Hello everyone, I’m going to start the new year by making good on at least one promise. I’m going to share the story of my first spanking of 2013. It is the story of what will hopefully bring a chance to my blog and improve my erratic blogging behaviour.
I promised to write this story to Mike, my new blogging mentor and old friend, it is also this months assignment, so I’m getting of on a good start this month. At the same time it is meant as an apology to all of you, for all the missed deadlines and broken promises of 2012. I hope I can be a better bloggess for you all in the coming year.
Never before have I shared a story about myself on this blog as open as this one, not with this many details and admitting this many feelings. I’m very nervous about your responses, but please comment if you want to, I’d rather have your remarks and critiques than your silence.
Some of it might come as a surprise to you, the amount I care about this blog, the severity of the spanking. But I hope that in the end that all helps in you getting to know me a little better.
It all started at new years’ eve at my friends house. We had come together to celebrate the new year as is our tradition. As most of you know, my small circle of friends are all into spanking; each year some old new year resolutions are remembered and naughty bottoms dealt with when they were not kept and new resolutions are made for the coming year. After this traditional round Mike and I were chatting, “I didn’t hear any resolutions for your blog.” He told me with a questioning tone.
I blushed a bit, knowing I had evaded the subject for a while, I hadn’t posted in my blog for over a month. “I know, I was kind of thinking of giving it up.” I replied, Mike was one of two friends who had – with permission – spanked me before, for not keeping my blog up to date. I was not in the mood for anything like that at the moment.
Mike was surprised. “Really?” He asked me. “But it’s such a good blog, you have so many readers, why would you give it up?”
I didn’t know what to say, we were supposed to have fun that night and the blog was not something that made me happy at the time. “I’m just not sure I can keep it up.” I replied in the end, hoping that was enough of an explanation.
It wasn’t. “You know what your problem is?” Mike said. “You think you have to do everything by yourself. And if that doesn’t work, you just give up, rather than asking anyone for help.”
I blushed again, it was true, I hadn’t considered asking anyone for help. “But how would anyone help?” I voiced my concerns. “I don’t really want other people to post on my blog.”
“I will help you.” Mike said. “Don’t give up yet, I will come up with an idea. We can talk about it some other time.”
He wanted to join the rest of the group again. We had been talking alone for a while now and he seemed to think that this was an appropriate ending to our conversation. I wasn’t allowed to give up until I heard his proposal. Of course I thought about the last time he ‘helped’ me. The spanking had been a short wake-up call, but in the end only a temporary solution. He had to come up with something better this time I decided. I wasn’t just going to let him spank me again and pretend that solved everything. For now however, I could forget about it and enjoy the party.
Just five days later, the first weekend of the new year, a Saturday, Mike called me and invited me over. It wasn’t uncommon for us to visit each other, I was expecting others to be there as well. But when I arrived, it turned out I was the only one invited and Mike wanted to talk about my blog. He had played it smart by inviting me thus, knowing I was probably not in the mood to talk about it, but now I had no real reason to leave again. “I have an offer.” Mike said, he was sitting in a small armchair and waved me to come closer.
“If it’s another spanking, I’m not interested.” I warned him while I made my way around the coffee table.
Mike shook his head. “No, no, well not yet at least, lets just talk first.” He patted his knee, inviting me to sit in his lap. I looked around, not sure I wanted to sit this close. I was curious to what he was going to say: ‘not yet’, well ‘not today’ I thought. He took my arm and pulled me onto his lap before I had decided on another place to sit. Well I had sat on his lap before, it shouldn’t bother me. “First I want to know why you want to quit the blog.” He said. “Really why, no silly excuses.”
His arms were around me, holding me against him. I was trying to come up with a good reason, but none of them sounded quite right. “I just think, I can’t do it, half the time something goes wrong.”
Mike’s hand stroked my leg comfortingly, though I didn’t think I needed comforting. “You mean, you post later than you planned, or not at all. Or you promise to post something, but then something comes up and you have to break that promise?”
“Ok, and how do you feel about that.” Mike took hold of my hand. “Let’s just ignore what everyone else thinks and feels, I just want to know how you feel, right now.”
I don’t know if it was his comforting touch, sitting in his lap or talking about my feelings, but suddenly I feel lost for words, my throat feels dry. “It’s like, I’m a failure, I keep disappointing everyone.” Suddenly tears are forming in my eyes.
“Easy.” Mike says, noticing my voice is on the edge of breaking. “I don’t care if the others are disappointed, I want to know how you feel about it, not them.”
Mike’s arms are around me and I don’t know how I went from confident to on the verge of tears so suddenly, but I gasp before I speak. “I’m disappointed too, disappointed in myself.”
“And when you get back, when you start posting again. Does that make you feel happy?” Mike asks, his hand grazing my upper thigh giving it comforting strokes, holding me tight on his lap.
“Not really.” I reply, realising it’s true. “I thought I was, everyone always comments that they’re happy I’m back, but I don’t feel it.”
Mike is silent for a while thinking, my breathing relaxes for a bit. “Perhaps you would feel better if they were angry.” He said.
“I don’t want them to be angry.” I replied, slightly confused.
“When they are so happy, while you’re disappointed, you start to worry, worry that they don’t really care. They’re not even angry when you break a promise.” I nod so he continues. “On the internet, people don’t hold high expectations, they know getting angry doesn’t help, they don’t have high expectations, because they would get disappointed too often. But I’m sure many of them are disappointed and angry, they just don’t bother telling you, they’d rather be happy you’re back than chastise you. Because then they fear you might never come back.” I can’t talk, anything I say now can break the dam that’s holding my tears inside. Everything he says makes sense, I feel that it’s true. “Are you afraid that they don’t care Emma?” He asks, “are you afraid they won’t miss you?” I nod and he holds both my hands, “say it out loud.”
“Yes.” I say, and I burst out, tears rolling down my cheeks, gasping for breath as Mike pulls me close against my shoulder. I had tried to push it away, pretend I didn’t care, but instead kept it bottled up and now it was flowing free.
“Is that why you want to quit?” Mike asks when I’ve gained a bit of control, snivelling against his chest.
I suddenly feel embarrassed, I’ve never cried in front of Mike, not even when he spanked me, but now we’re just sitting, talking, and I’m a wreck. “Yes, maybe.”
Mike gently takes my head and pulls me back, so he looked into my face. “Well I am one hundred percent sure you’re wrong.” He says. “They do care, they would miss you, and every time you fail them, they are disappointed.” He lets that sink in, I don’t know if it was supposed to make me feel better or worse. “If you quit now, that would only be the final and worst disappointment. “He says. “You only want to quit because then you would no longer be able to fail.” His tone is harsh and this time I know it makes me feel worse, new tears stream down my cheeks. “Stand up.” He says. Reluctantly I leave his comforting embrace and stand in front of him.
“Quitting is not an appropriate response to failure.” He says. “It is true, you can no longer disappoint anyone when you quit, but you can also no longer make them happy.” He looks me up and down, making sure the message got through. I can no longer respond to anything he says, I am just crying silently as he scolds me. “What you have to do now, is continue and try harder, find out what the problem is and fix it, so you can keep making people happy, but stop disappointing them and yourself.” I nod, I know he is right, I don’t really want to quit the blog, I just wanted to stop being a disappointment to myself and others. “You told me you were disappointed in yourself. You broke promises and behaved in a way that you know is wrong. You also told me that you did not want a spanking. But in my opinion a good spanking is the proper response to such behaviour. Not just one spanking, but constant vigilance on my part, keeping an eye on you, making sure you do not disappoint anyone again. So this is my offer, from this day on I will be your mentor. I will keep track of you blogging and reward you accordingly: punishment for disappointments, rewards for good blogging behaviour.” He keeps silent for a while, I feel that he had rehearsed that speech for a while. Could it work, I think. I had read about mentors before, fantasised even, but never thought about getting one myself, not for anything. “I want you to pull down your pants and panties right now.” Mike suddenly says, while I am still thinking. “Take them right off and position yourself over my knee.” I look at him, hesitant. “Right now, you are confused, you are disappointed in yourself, crying, contemplating. I want to give you a spanking, so that afterwards, when you have dealt with those feelings, you will have a clear head and will easier decide whether to take my offer or not.” Still I hesitate and he looks at me strictly. “We both know you deserve a well smacked bottom young lady.” Those words do it, no longer a friend giving advice or scolding, but a man, telling me what I know is true, I deserve to get my bottom smacked, badly.
I pull my pants and panties down, to my ankles in one go and step out. I blush, standing there semi-naked in front of Mike. He has seen my bottom – and probably more – naked before as he spanked me, but only after I was already across his lap, not right in front of him, letting his eyes inspect me before I got over his knee. The armrests on the chair are high, I lean on them with my upper body, my hips resting on Mike’s lap and my feet dangling in the air. Curiously I am no longer crying. It almost makes me laugh, crying before the spanking instead of after. Maybe this was what I needed after all. A good spanking to show me that someone did care, that it did make a difference when I did something wrong.
Mike doesn’t say another word, but smacks my bottom hard. It hurts, but at the same time it is welcome. I want those smacks, want it to hurt, because that’s what I deserve. He isn’t gentle, the smacks land one after the other, no pause, no respite, hard ringing smacks, left then right. I squirm, it hurts, I try to stay brave, I tell myself it is for my own good, but it hurts. This is what I get, I tell myself as I struggle in Mike’s lap, his hand holding me down. This is what I get for procrastinating, for being lazy, for breaking my promises. My bottom is on fire and Mike doesn’t slow down. “Please stop.” I start begging. “I’ve had enough, please.” Mike’s hand smacks me mercilessly. “You were right, I deserved it, but please stop. I’ll try better I promise.” I kick my legs and moan, Mike isn’t done with me yet. Slowly I lose the urge to fight, I can no longer struggle and the tears that had been gone when the spanking started are back, sobbing I lay across his lap as he keeps hitting me. “Please, I just want to talk.” And then he stops, rubbing my bottom slowly, gently.
He helps me up and hugs me. “How do you feel?” He asks.
“Really? You’re still crying.”
“Because it hurts, not because I still feel bad.”
“Good.” He sits down again and pulls me on his lap, letting me sit, my bottom smarted.
I am embarrassed, like always after a spanking. It was always a wonder that I felt better afterwards, but I did. I also feel exposed, there is no longer a layer of pants while his hand strokes my leg, comforting me. He is excited, I can feel it while sitting in his lap, pressing against me. It makes me blush, but what should I expect, letting him spank me, sitting in his lap with barely any clothes on, I don’t comment on it. “So what do you think about my idea?” He asks.
“Will you spank me a lot?” I ask nervously, my bottom did hurt.
“Only when you deserve it.” He says “Not more than once per month.”
That sounds fair, his hand stroking my bare leg was distracting, I am getting warm, even a disciplinary spanking would turn me on. “That sounds quite arbitrary.”
“There will be rules, you will only be spanked when those are broken.”
“Only about the blog, I don’t need a mentor for anything else.”
“What are the rules?”
“I have thought about these for a while.” He says. His hand disappears from my leg as he prepares to explain them, I already miss it. “You should no longer keep a schedule, that is too difficult. I think you will do better if you can just post what you want at any time.” I nod, that does sound easier. “But I will keep a quota you have to reach. Twenty five points per month, five points for each post, ten for a story. How does that sound?”
I hesitate, quickly counting how many posts I need to make. “I can do that.”
“Good, but to make sure you don’t just post them all the last week, you only get one point for a post in the same week you already posted and no points for a post on the same day you already posted.”
I swallow, there goes my backup plan. “Sounds fair.”
“When you reach twenty five points you will be rewarded, if you fail, you will be punished of course. And then there is the assignment.”
I blink. “Assignment?”
“Yes, each month you will get one assignment from me for your blog. I will ask ideas from your readers, failing to finish the assignment will also result in a spanking.”
“What kind of assignments?” I ask, I’m getting unsure now.
“It could be anything, a story, a drawing, a challenge. Your first assignment will be writing a story about today, fully detailed, as a way of apology for your readers for last years disappointments. See it as something new, a challenge to meet, each month again, to keep things fresh.”
Despite my doubts I start to like the idea so I agree, “ok, one challenge. Anything more?”
“That’s it.” He says, urging me to stand up. I stand and he looks me up and down, I’m still naked from the waist down, my bottom has cooled down a bit. “When I punish you, it will not just be about how much your bottom hurts, it will also be embarrassing. If you agree with everything I said and want me to be your mentor in this, I want you to take off the rest of your clothing, so that you’re wearing nothing at all for the rest of your spanking.” I blush deeply and then grimace. ‘The rest of my spanking?’ I thought I had been spanked sufficiently. Mike sees my hesitation. “Last month you didn’t post anything, that’s zero points on twenty five. We didn’t have this agreement back then, but it will be a good reference, it will never be worse than today, because you can’t go below zero points.” I pout, reaching back to protect my bottom, most of the pain is gone now. I had started to look forward to our agreement, but now I learn that if I want to go trough with it, I have to let him spank me again, worse than before. Mike doesn’t say anything, but waits patiently for my response. Part of me wants the rest of the spanking, realising that what I had gotten so far wasn’t really that bad, I have actually had worse, just never so emotional; that part still believing that I deserve more. But what if it’s more than I can take, I debate with myself, if it is more than I can take, it will be better that I find out now, rather than finding out when we’ve gone through with the agreement. Mike is right, it would be a good reference. I just don’t want another spanking, they hurt … and … I don’t want to undress, it’s too embarrassing, Mike is my friend and a spanking is embarrassing and arousing enough without being naked. I realise that I’m looking for excuses now, isn’t nudity and embarrassment always what I loved most about spanking, I’m suddenly turned on by the idea of being naked in Mike’s apartment. I look at him and he smiles encouraging, so I grab the hem of my top, pulling it over my head. My bra follows falling on top of the little pile of clothing. I’m completely nude except for my shoes. I bend over to untie them, bending at the hip to show off my pink bottom, I feel sexy, it’s strengthening. I know I will be embarrassed and humiliated soon, crying over his lap, but for these few moments I have the power and that’s what helps me make the decision. I’m ready for it.
Mike looks me up and down and stands up. “Follow me.” I follow him, full submissive mode. He pulls the chair from behind his desk. “Sit.” He says. He is so curt, I don’t dare to question or argue, so I sit down on his chair. “I want you to login on your blog and make a post. Explain to everyone that you have been gone, but are now back, you might want to add an apology. Tell them about our agreement and that you will write a story about it for your assignment. When you are done, add that picture I have on my desktop, so they know your punishment is currently in progress.”
I sit down and write the short story, adding the picture in the end. Mike’s chair is soft against my pink bottom. It is strange writing on my blog in a different place, with no clothes on even and someone watching. I usually only open it in the privacy of my bedroom. I type slowly, knowing that when I’m done my punishment will continue, the second part of my spanking, I’m scared.
But I can’t postpone it forever, the piece is finished and I publish it. Mike shuts down the computer and leads me back to the armchair. He makes me kneel on it and disappears shortly into the hallway, he returns with a small hairbrush, I cringe. He takes me by my elbow and stands me up so he can sit down before pulling me over his lap again in the same position as before. Now without my top my breasts are resting on the soft armrest, my pink bottom is up over his lap and he’s stroking it with the cool wooden surface of the hairbrush. He slides it up and onto my back, letting it lie there. “I think a few warm up smacks with my hand, you’ve had too much time to cool down.” And his hand lands across my bottom. I moan softly, but welcome the pain. My poor bottom quickly remembers the pain it was in before and just a few more smacks have it hot and stinging. My bottom now glows and Mike quickly grabs the hairbrush from my back, I yelp as the first smack lands hard on my waiting bottom. Mike takes his time, not raining down the smacks like he did before, but letting each smack sink in good. My bottom is on fire and I yelp at each smack, wriggling my bottom out of the way after it lands, trying to squirm away from the pain. But Mike patiently waits for my bottom to be in perfect position again before landing the next. “The longer I have to wait, the longer this will take.” He says. So I try to keep still, only kicking my legs but keeping my bottom up where he wants it. The smacks come faster now, the pain from one smack not yet dissipated when the next one lands and I yelp and squeal every time. My bottom feels on fire and yet I keep it up there. Mike isn’t even holding me down, he is spanking me, but I am helping just as much by letting him. It’s as if I’m punishing myself, just as I was disappointed in myself, Mike is only helping. But then we come to the point that it hurts too much, I don’t want any more. I know I deserve more, but I just can’t do it by myself, so I struggle out of the way, trying to avoid the smacks. “Please no more.” I beg.
But Mike holds me down now, his elbow pressing against my lower back. “Just a little more.” He says. “You did very good so far, but this is the hard part.” And the hairbrush lands hard on my bottom. I’m crying again, I usually don’t cry, but today there seems no end to my tears. This is the hard part indeed, he is in full control now, he is punishing me, it’s no longer what I have chosen to do myself. I beg and plead and finally it seems my torment is at an end. Mike lets me go and stand up. I’m barely aware that I’m naked in front of him, rubbing my bottom vigorously. I almost didn’t hear him say it: “bend over the chair.”
He is taking off his belt. “No, please no, not the belt, please.”
He folds it and holds it in his right hand. “Twenty five smacks, for each point you are short. Or do you want to quit now, when it’s almost over?”
I cringe, my bottom is on fire, I’m crying and it would all be for nothing if I can’t take twenty five more smacks. But twenty five with the belt, that’s a harsh punishment by itself, without what I’ve had before. “It will never be as bad as this, will it?”
He shakes his head. “One post is all it takes to shave off five strokes and lessen the time over my knee as well. But I am sure you can manage to end the month with enough points to save your bottom completely.”
He smiles encouraging again. Of course he can smile I think, despite it all I am suddenly embarrassed again, of course he can smile, with his female friend naked in front of him. I bend over the chair for him. I close my eyes and hear him take up position behind me. The belt swishes through the air landing straight across my bottom and I squeal. “Count please.”
I turn red from embarrassment, but count it out: “one”. Again he waits patiently until I’m in position again for the second. He doesn’t urge me to keep my position this time, letting me fully recover from each smack before applying the next, and slowly oh so slowly the count reaches higher, while he makes me scream. I don’t beg, I don’t even cry any more, I know now when it will end, I have to reach that twenty five, no amount of begging will help, I’m fully concentrated on the sharp sting and the counting. When we reach twenty I can barely stand. My bottom doesn’t want to go up any more, it knows what’s coming and it’s as if my body has a will of it’s own. I force it up anyway, I have to take this, I deserve to. Finally we reach twenty five and I collapse onto the chair, face forward, I’m afraid to sit down. Mike picks me up and hugs me. I hang in his arms, sobbing but proud of myself. “Very good, I’m so proud of you.” Mike says. “At first I didn’t think you would go this far, but now I know you’re really dedicated to this, we can do it.”
I am infected by his enthusiasm, he is right, I did it. I suddenly remember I’m naked, naked spanked and hugging my friend; I remember feeling his arousal when I lay over his lap, I feel it again now, quickly I let go. My face flushes crimson, he smiles broadly, enjoying my embarrassment.
“You can put your clothes back on now.” He said.
I pick them up quickly. “Thank you.”
“Glad I could help, now excuse me for a moment.” He leaves again, taking the hairbrush with him. I suspect he is headed to the bathroom.
I pull on my bra, my top, but with Mike gone I have nothing to distract me from my stinging bottom. The soft silk panties look menacing, I decide to wait a while longer before trying them on.
Mike returns. “No pants?” He is smiling, recognizing my problem immediately, I blush again. He sits down in the same chair he used to spank me in. I feel the sudden need for closeness and ignoring the fact that I’m still not wearing any pants crawl back on his lap. I can feel his arousal against my hip, arousing me in turn. His hand rests on the bare skin of my leg, I moan softly “Emma, are you turned on?” He asks me bluntly.
I blush deeply, but I can’t lie, not with my bottom on fire, sitting in the same chair where he just recently spanked me, so I admit to him: “yes.”
He inhales deeply and then pushes me off his lap. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” He says. “No matter how much I wish it was. If I were your boyfriend things would be different, but I am your mentor now. With your boyfriend you could make things up in the bedroom, when you want to make things up with me it has to be by doing as you promised.”
That intimate part between my legs is suddenly on fire, almost rivalling my poor bottom. Here I am, as good as naked, throwing myself on his lap, admitting what I want, but he rejects me. And worst of all, I know he is right. I close my eyes and breath slowly before nodding. “You’re right, again.”
He smiles. “Maybe it’s better if you go home now then.”
He is right, I grab my panties and pants, pulling on both as slow as I can, promising myself next time not to wear skinny jeans when I visit Mike. They feel so tight against my sore stinging bottom. I can almost imagine the glow being visible through the thin elastic fabric. We say our goodbyes and suddenly I’m outside in the cold. All eyes or on me, or at least in my imagination they are. I make my way to the bus. There is plenty of room to sit, but I prefer to stand. It’s not long before I’m home, before I can take my pants back off giving my poor bottom fresh cool air and relieving the tension between my legs with a small massaging toy…
Hope you all enjoyed reading, I want to end this story by thanking Mike, we should all be thankful to him, because without him chances are the blog would still be dead. And lastly I hope I don”t have to write such embarrassing personal stories again; to those 25 points, and beyond!
Oh… and don’t forget to post your ideas for next month’s assignment.