I went to see my friend Vincent a couple of days after Valentine's Day... about two weeks ago. This was the spanking for forgetting to blow out the candle that ended up starting the fire in my house. Vincent got some new furniture since the last time I was there, and the arms of the new couch and love seat are just perfect for bending over.
We relaxed and chatted a little before he gave me my spanking. Then he asked me if I needed to go to the bathroom. That always means I'm about to get spanked. I didn't feel like I had to go, but I always try, even if just to give myself a minute to prepare myself for the spanking that's about to come. Vincent doesn't mess around when he spanks me. It's for real, and it hurts. I know all I have to do is say his name if I truly need to stop or take a break, but I'm not likely to do this during a discipline spanking unless something is really wrong.
When I came out of the bathroom, he told me to bend over the arm of the love seat and see if it was comfortable. I love that about him... he is always careful to make sure that the only part of me that is uncomfortable during my spankings is my bottom. I bent over the arm and adjusted myself a little. I stood back up and told him that I could use a pillow between me and the arm of the love seat. He got one for me, and told me to bend back over. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should pull down my jeans. But he hadn't told me to, so I went over the arm of the love seat with them still up.
I adjusted myself over the arm of the love seat... my bottom at a perfect spanking angle, my toes off the floor, and my upper body resting on the love seat with a pillow to cry into if it came to that.
He knelt on the floor close to my head and leaned in close to my face. He does this when he is very serious. He gets very close and talks very quietly... sometimes he even whispers. It's far more unnerving than a loud lecture. My eyes were locked on his. He told me that I've learned a lot of good lessons in the time we have known each other, and that I was being much more of a good girl than I have in the past. He said he knew that I hadn't intentionally left the candle burning, but that I had to pay more attention to things like that. He blew on my forehead. "That's all it would have taken," he said. He blew on my forehead again. "That's it. And you would have saved yourself a whole lot of trouble."
"Yes, Sir," I said.
He got up and I heard him get his belt. God, I hate that belt. I squeezed the pillow against my chest and took some deep breaths. This was going to hurt. The belt came down on my bottom. The jeans I was wearing were kind of loose, and absorbed a lot of the sting from the belt. (I didn't tell him that... but if he still keeps up with my blog, I guess he's going to find out now). But even so, it still hurt, and after several strokes, the jeans just didn't seem to matter much. The cane was next.
Now there aren't a lot of people that I would let at my bottom with a cane. In the hands of someone who doesn't know how to use it, it can be dangerous. But Vincent is damn good with a cane. Besides that, he reads me, the noises I make, and my body language extremely well. He had me squirming and burying my face in that pillow. At one point, my right hand came out from under my chest and started to go back towards my bottom, but he said, "Don't you dare," and I immediately shoved it back under the pillow again.
After several strokes of the cane, he told me to stand up. I did, and reached to rub my bottom, but he stopped me and reminded me that he hadn't told me that I could rub it. He pointed to his left and told me to turn in that direction. I did. He told me to undo my jeans. I unbuttoned and unzipped them. He stepped behind me and pulled my jeans down and then my panties.
"Touch your toes," he said. I bent over and touched my toes. That's when I really felt the cane! Wow... I've never felt anything like that before. It was a 3/8" line of unbelievable sting right across both cheeks. I sucked in my breath and felt myself start to stand up. But somehow I managed to only move a few inches before I got myself back down in position. I don't know how many strokes of the cane I got. It could have been a dozen, or it could have been 50. I was just focused on staying in position and listening for instructions. These weren't wimpy strokes like you see in some videos. Nor were they brutally hard strokes. They were perfectly done for me and my spanking experience and caning experience.
He told me to step out of my jeans and panties and stand in the corner with my hands on my head. The corner has doorways to either side of it, so there is just about enough room for my nose in the corner between the two door frames, and room for my elbows to not touch a wall with my hands on my head.
After a few minutes in the corner, he told me to stick my bottom out. I arched my back to stick it out. "More," he said. I arched my back as far as I could, but my lower back cramped, and I didn't move very far. "More," he said. "Don't make me tell you three times." I took a step back from the corner and bent over. He got his cherry wood paddle and gave me several swats with it. Wow that thing stung more than I remembered it!
Then he told me he was going to give me ten more with his belt, and he told me to count them. I took another step back from the corner so I could bend over more. I had one hand on each door frame, my upper body parallel to the floor, my back arched so that my bottom was sticking out for him.
He swung the belt ten times, and I counted each one. Did I mention that I hate that belt? He told me to get my nose back in the corner. I did so quickly, before he decided to swing the belt some more. He asked me if he'd spanked me enough. "Yes, Sir," I answered.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir," I answered.
"Can I put the belt away now?" he asked. Obviously, he wasn't asking my permission. He was asking me if he needed to use it some more.
"Yes, Sir," I answered.
"Am I going to have to get it back out again?" he asked.
"No, Sir." I answered.
"I better not have to," he said.
"Yes, Sir," I said.
He put away his belt and paddle, and slid my cane back into my bag. He sat on the couch, leaving me in the corner for another few minutes. Then he called me over and pointed to the floor in front of him. I dropped to my knees and knelt in front of him. This isn't your typical D/s "kneel." Vincent isn't my Master. He is my friend, my mentor, and my disciplinarian. The kneeling is part of every punishment at some point, either before or after, and it's sometimes part of a serious talk or lecture that may not even involve a spanking. There are very few men that I would kneel for, but all Vincent has to do is point, and I am immediately on my knees in front of him.
He asked me if I'd learned my lesson and I tell him that I have. He motions me closer and I lean into his chest and put my arms around him. He puts one arm around my shoulders and strokes my hair with the other hand. This is the best part.