the implements left behind

I have a confession to make: I still haven't unpacked my suitcase from the shoot with Jimmy and Zoe. Since then there has been New Year with D, work, and several days spent hibernating in bed and cuddling a heat-seeking kitten, rather than venturing out into the cold of my flat to do housework. The suitcase is still, in fact, behind me as I write this, bulging with unfolded school uniform, stockings, shoes and implements.

The implements are all my nicest ones, because I wanted Jimmy's introduction to video to be reasonably gentle. My Mason & Pearson hairbrush, my soft two-tailed tawse, my black leather paddle, my ruler and my two canes - all of these are still packed.

I realised the downside of this when Tom started spanking me last night, and the only implements left in my toybox were the nasty ones. The ones I thought would be too harsh to use on Jimmy's first shoot. The wooden clothes brush, the little round bath brush, and the heavy brown leather tawse.

It had started gently enough. I leaned in for a kiss; the kiss turned into a longer kiss, and then his hands were slipping underneath my warm winter pyjamas and tugging the bottoms down. I was entirely willing to roll onto my front, bare cheeks exposed and the rest of me still snuggled in duvet and bedclothes. I hugged the pillows with both arms and made appreciative sounds as he started to spank me.

One slow, loving, teasing spanking later, I was pushing my hips back for more. He helped me kneel up properly, back arched and bottom offered submissively, and started to step up the pace. Tom's hands can really pack a wallop, and at each harder smack I would yelp and twisting away before quickly returning to position. I didn't want him to stop, but I couldn't manage to stay still, either. I found myself being held tight against his hip, one arm around my waist. I loved the feeling of being kept in position, helpless as he dealt me a slow series of hard, stinging, fleshy smacks.

Then I was on my hands and knees in the middle of the bed, breathless and turned on, but knowing that I wouldn't be able to keep my bottom nicely arched for him if he continued at that force. Tom reached behind him and brought the bath brush out of the toybox. It looks small, but it's fiercely stingy and quickly becomes unbearable if used fast. I may have whimpered involuntarily.

"Get in position, love," he said kindly.

"May I have some pillows?" I asked nervously.

"You may."

Being able to rest my tummy on pillows made it easier to stay put, and the first few strokes weren't too bad. By the end of the spanking, though, the stinging brush was getting really difficult to take. I was crying out and grabbing at the sheets, and Tom's target was moving around more than it should have been. But he wasn't finished yet.

"Stay there," he told me. "I'm going to give you six with this." I sneaked a peek and was horrified to see that he was holding the heavy brown tawse. It's made of a stiff, thick leather, and leaves wide stripes that burn and throb, all along their length, for many breaths after the first unbearable blaze of sting.

Serves me right, I suppose, for not having more palatable implements to hand in the bedroom.

His voice and hands were soothing, though, as he reassured me that I was only getting six, and I wouldn't have to count them or thank him, just make sure I returned to position after each stroke. I nodded. I didn't think of disobeying. I didn't want to disobey. I felt safely cradled by his firm authority; comforted by the love in our power exchange. But I knew this was going to hurt.

It did. It really, really hurt. I tried to stay quiet and still for the first few, absorbing the pain with my breath, feeling the energy shudder through my body. But the last three made me yell and jump up. I didn't need reminding to get back into position each time, but my whole body was shaking as I lifted my bottom for the next explosion of pain. Each time my obedience was rewarded with a rough, tingling rub almost as painful as another smack, but which I welcomed nonetheless.

There was an even better reward waiting for me when it was over, though. A counterpoint to the heavy, thuddy tawse in the form of a certain cat toy. This hadn't made it into the shoot suitcase as it doesn't really have the right look for domestic or school discipline - a happy accident. He proceeded to set my tenderised bottom alight with tiny, stinging strokes that quickly had me moaning in pleasure. Afterwards he said he hadn't been sure how I was reacting to it, so let me state for the record that it was pure, erotic deliciousness.

I would never have chosen that bath brush or that tawse for a consensual, loving spanking scene - but D/s isn't always about my choices, and he was gentle where it counted. When I'm able to let go and submit to it, I love to be pushed, to submit to his choices even through my fear. It makes the fun stuff that happens next so much more satisfying.