Punishment, humiliation and bondage

Photo of Ariel Anderssen courtesy of Restrained Elegance

Actually, when D suggested we get the spankings over and done with at the end of my last entry, there were two in the offing. My punishment for not checking in as per our agreement a couple of days earlier; and a fun spanking he owed me to make up for being mean.

Put like that, it sounds kind of contradictory. But I suspect you'll understand.

I was waking up with my laptop and a cup of tea, and thinking about making breakfast. I asked what he had in the kitchen, we made a plan. I settled in to read twitter while I finished my tea. D and I exchanged some sort of internet-related banter I can't remember, but which probably involved my teasing him. His retort: "Get into the kitchen and start cooking, woman!"

Now, we've talked about him making sexist jokes, even in jest. I want to call him on it but I'm in too good a mood enough to properly have a go. Instead I say: "Well, I was just about to start making you breakfast, but now you've said that I'll only do it if I get a spanking later."

He thinks for barely a moment. "Yeah, that's fair." And all is forgiven.

--

After dinner, slightly tipsy, I walk past the open bedroom door and catch sight of what's waiting on the bed. The punishment bath brush. And his belt, coiled neatly and waiting on the pillow. My tummy flips with nerves.

The next thing I remember is me, naked, standing in front of him as he sits on the corner of the bed, bath brush in hand. I'm grateful that he's on the corner rather than the edge of the bed - it allows me to go diagonally over his knee with hands and feet on the floor. I always feel awkward and huge, a giantess, when I'm lying over someone's knee with my arms and legs up on the bed. Hands and feet on the floor ironically makes me feel less self-conscious.

I got some warm-up smacks with his hand and the brush as he tested its weight. It doesn't look like it's having any effect at all, but it stings like blazes - as my squeaks testified. My head was right next to his big wall-mirror, but I stared at the carpet, unwilling to look myself in the eyes. Once he'd satisfied himself that he had the measure of the brush, he asked me if I was ready.

"Yes, sir." I was feeling very sorry and submissive and just hoping I could stand it. How many minutes was I going to get?

Then - "I'm going to give you twelve," he said, and I realised all in a rush that he didn't mean twelve minutes, he meant twelve whacks, and that this was going to be bearable. Not pleasant, but bearable.

I winced and squirmed my way through them, continually amazed at how so small and innocuous an item as that wooden brush could have so much effect - but then it was over. Ironically, the 'fun' play that followed was far more humiliating than the 'real' punishment.

--

"Put on your pretty things," said D, his smile telling me that the punishment was over. Most tops just give you a hug afterwards. He ... well.

I put on the sheer black hold-ups with ridiculous hot pink lacy tops which I'd bought for amusement's sake a couple of days earlier. Plus black patent stilettos that do up with ribbon. Standing in the heels I teetered over him, feeling shy and unbalanced, like a little girl playing grown-up dress up.

His erection told me how much he'd enjoyed spanking me (or perhaps just how much he enjoyed seeing me in stockings and heels). I was grateful for the punishment, both its inevitability and its relative lenience, and more than happy to show him how grateful I was with my mouth. In return he lay me on the bed with the heels in the air, and rewarded me for shaving my pussy that afternoon with teasing, loving licks, working inwards from my mound and upper thighs in a slow, slow circle that had me panting.

Just when I thought he was going to let me come, he stopped. I was guided to my feet again, and he tied my wrists behind my back with soft black rope. My breath was coming in tiny, nervous flutters. My whole body felt sensitised.

Suddenly he slammed me backwards against the wall. I fell against it, unsteady in the heels. His hand wrapped around my throat and forced my head up. My face was higher than his but he was looking straight into my eyes. I felt too tall, too vulnerable, my hands pressed together behind me against the cold wall. His other hand carved tendrils of sensation on my skin, making my breath catch, and then he lifted it and slapped my left breast with such force that panic, like white noise, fizzed in my brain for long seconds. I yelped loudly, shocked, and then gasped for breath, face feeling very pink, unable to move my head, his hand a steady pressure around my throat.

Our eyes met with the electric shock of hunter and hunted. I was overwhelmed by the terror of being trapped, knowing I couldn't escape his unwavering gaze, or the next slap - which made me cry out again, even though I knew it was coming. I squirmed, not sure if I was more humilated by the smacks or by his continuing to look into my face as he hit me. More slaps, making my breasts bounce. My nipples felt hard and tight and too sensitive, a situation not helped by his insistence on pulling them, pinching them before slapping them again.

I felt horrible, humiliated, scared and so aroused I was dizzy.

After taking his time punishing my breasts, he threw me onto the bed. I landed awkwardly, hands still bound behind me. Normally I'd scramble to regain my balance, try to find out where he wanted me, but all autonomy had been shocked out of me. I just lay there facedown, breathing fast and waiting for him to act. He tied my ankles together with more of the rope. Then, with another length, he bound my thighs, just above the knee.

So I'm trussed hands, thighs and feet, unable even to steady myself for balance, high heels sticking out off the edge of the bed and aching breasts smooshed into the duvet. He climbs on top of me and busies himself spanking me for a while, which is actually kind of a relief. Hand spanking, that I can cope with, and I ground myself in the familiar, pleasant sensations. But then he stops, and I can feel his cock nudging against my bottom.

He slides the velvety tip up and down my crease, teasing me with its hardness; pushing, gently, insistently, pushing, just long enough for me to start to groan, to resign myself to the pain, to whimper, "if you're going to do that, you're going to need some lube" - when he stops toying with me and plunges himself into my cunt instead. In that position I can barely move, can't do more than rock my hips back against him an inch or so, and the angle isn't one that will get me off. But that's not the point. He takes me ferociously, one hand pinning my shoulders, my head, to the bed, and I surrender.

When he stops, it's only to flip me over and shove his cock in my mouth instead. I'm so deep in subspace that I take the length of him easily, and don't resist as he violently fucks my mouth and throat. He moves me wordlessly between positions as he uses my body to his satisfaction, and I do everything he wants. Passivity isn't normally my style, but I'm so brimming over with joy and intimacy that every motion, each acquiescence feels like the most significant act in the world.

I'm back on my face, being taken roughly once more from behind when I can't bear it: I need to come. I beg him to untie me so I can kneel up. To my astonishment he indulges me. Once free I offer myself to him, arse in the air, as wanton as a bitch in heat. He seizes my hips in both hands and gives me what I'm after. I come shaking, violently, screaming, my head pulled back by the fist grabbing my hair and my arse lifted again and again against his hips.

Afterwards, I'm drowsing on the bed in a blissful haze when he jumps up and starts digging through a drawer. He gives me a kinky merit badge and I don't guess until I'm holding it in my hands which one it's going to be.



I smile. Yeah, that makes sense. I had wondered if it was going to be the Deep Throat one, but I guess that adventure is still to come.

Kinky Merit Badge I: Spanking

D has a thing for high heels. It's very specific: he doesn't like worshipping or licking them or anything (so the merit badge, sadly, is not one for us), he just thinks most sexual encounters or scenes are improved by his partner wearing unfeasibly high heels. The smoother, shinier and slinkier the better. Always spike-heeled stilettos, not wedges or sturdy heels, and preferably round rather than pointy toes. I refuse to wear the things in the usual vanilla contexts, but I've developed quite a collection of shoes I can barely walk in which I only wear in bed. And I've caught the fetish - I now associate wearing ridiculously high heels with having fantastic sex, and I've developed a taste for the way they look on other people. So when I'm gearing up to visit him and he tells me to bring some shoes with me, I know we're going to have some fun.

I've been waiting all night for the instruction, and am ready when it comes. We agreed that it would be appropriate to start the collection with the Spanking badge, so I think I can guess what's coming. He busies himself in the bathroom while I undress in the bedroom. I'm still wiggling into the latest favourite pair of strappy heels when he comes back in, which always make me feel self-conscious, but then I've grown to like the imbalanced self-consciousness D's topping style tends to make me feel. It's a sort of humiliation-lite.

We're already feeling connected. When I look into his eyes the love shining from them makes my throat ache. He asks me to kneel, and I notice he's holding my collar. I haven't worn it in a long time - not because we haven't been playing, but just because that sort of formality has never really been D's thing, and it kind of fell off our radar. (Plus, it's kind of hard to give head in it, which has always been a big part of our play.)

"I'm not going to give you your Collared badge tonight," he murmurs, his lips almost brushing my ear as he fastens the collar around my neck. "But I thought you should get used to wearing it again." I can feel love and lust and affection filling me up as if it's being poured into me. I'm still kneeling; he moves to face me, takes my hand and kisses it, and I return the favour, never breaking eye contact.

Then I'm lying facedown on the bed - facing away from the big mirrors that line one wall of his room. He moves behind me and I peek over my shoulder. He's holding his black leather gloves, the soft Italian leather driving gloves I bought him years ago because in my opinion all dominants should own some. He puts them on, slowly. I can't help it - at this sight of those gloves I'm already wet. The incongruity of the dark leather against his bare arms just heightens the effect. I imagine his leather-clad hands on my skin, my nipples, my lips, enclosing my neck; the contrast between the satin-soft leather and his strong grip. I'm so aroused I give an involuntary whimper.

He obliges me with caresses, his hand wrapped around my throat like a warning, brushing against my cheek, my breasts. Then he starts to spank me.

We tried this once before, so I know that the gloves diffuse the sting rather than enhancing it. He's spanking me as hard as he can, though, using all his strength, and each spank thumps against my arse, jolting me forward. The sting is dispersed but the thud is lovely. After a little while I wonder if he realises he's partly wasting his strength, and (respectfully) comment that the leather always hurts less than you might hope. The next thing I feel is the snap of an empty glove against one cheek. Such a mocking little sting, almost no weight behind it; the opposite sensation. A few more smacks like insect bites, and then he starts using his hand. After the extremes of sensation caused by the leather the familar warm sting of his palm is welcome, and I buck to meet each spank.

He turns me round, and onto my back. My arms are tucked above my head. He moves my legs apart, and then further apart. I don't even notice my reflection - I'm completely absorbed in the sensation trip he's sending me on, his wordless power over me. He holds down one leg at a time and slowly, carefully, smacks up the inside of each thigh, hard, from my knee to the damp crease at the top. I bite my lip and yelp at each high-pitched flare of sting.

When he gets to the top my breathing quickens. I know he knows that cunt punishment is off-limits, and I know that he knows that I know, and I trust him not to cross that boundary but I'm still scared. He takes his time. I swallow my panic, try to breathe deeply. He pauses, and then swaps to the other leg. The next painful series of inner-thigh smacks come as a relief. No, of course he won't. He wouldn't. I knew that.

He flips me back over. We're communicating by touch rather than language, and I'm no longer thinking in words. I hang onto the headboard as he spanks my arse with his bare hands, hard and fast. He's really going for it. He straddles my thighs, pinning me down, and spanks harder. The cumulative sting is overwhelming but I'm turned on and warmed up and I'm not scared; the pain is all mixed up with pleasure.

After a while he suddenly stops. He trails his fingers lightly along my heated cheeks. I respond with a wordless sound. His caress dawdles along my bottom crease and I can feel my breath catch and I'm suddenly dizzy. Anal play has been off-limits for annoying health reasons for far too long; I've been desperate for it at the same time as knowing it would be too painful and damaging to contemplate. I still don't feel quite ready, but maybe it would be okay, and then I feel the slick, cool smoothness of a slender buttplug nuzzling between my cheeks, and oh my god, it's slipping in. I'm going mad with lust. I can't think. He leaves it in place, all my senses shrilling my awareness of it, and reaches underneath me to pleasure me with one hand while continuing to spank me with the other. With every slap I can feel the plug jolting in my arse and I think I might scream.

I want/don't want him to take the plug out and fuck me in the arse, but he doesn't. He leaves it in while he goes down on me, which is maddening - I can't concentrate on either sensation and although the pleasure is overwhelming it's hard for me to climax. But I do, eventually, with his cock deep inside me and the high heels crossed around his back, the plug slipped out and forgotten a while ago.

--

Hot scene, but later I wonder, was it enough to earn my badge? He hasn't given me one yet (apart from in the obvious sense) and we're spending the next day together as well. Do I have more to come? That hand spanking was one of the most furious he's ever given me, if not necessarily the hardest I've ever taken. Or maybe it was that hard, and I was so turned on I didn't notice? In the end I ask him the question while we're making breakfast the next day. He says yes, he intends to give me the badge. I joke that he's earned one, too. He smiles.

Later that day, he's at his desk and I'm on the sofa with my laptop. I'm watching Pixie's Cause for Paws video. First I'm giggling at it, and then as the over the knee paddling and hairbrushing from her husband goes on and on at that intensity and speed, I'm hopelessly turned on.

I consider. We're both usually horny in the afternoons and tired by the evenings; it's an inconvenience we've lamented before. Well, here we both are. Why not seize the opportunity?

So I tell him about the video. "It's simultaneously sweet, funny and strangely intense, especially the OTK paddling scene. Mm. I'm all a-flutter now." I can feel my blush rising. "So. Um." I bite my lip and plunge in: "If you decided that you wanted to add a few more strokes to make me earn this spanking badge, I wouldn't mind." I'm bright pink.

He grins, and stands up. "Ha. Come on then."

I feel suddenly guilty for being so demanding. "It - er, it doesn't have to be now if you're busy..."

"No, no," he replies facetiously, "the bottom has spoken, I couldn't possibly delay," and his hand is out and his eyes are smiling. I make an on-the-spot decision to shut up and let him make my fantasy come true. I take his hand.

Standing in the bedroom, I'm shy and uncertain. He whistles to himself as he rummages in the toybox, taking things out, considering them and tossing some of them onto the bed. Wooden oval paddle. Belt. "Just in case I get bored." Length of rope. Meanwhile I take my skirt off. He tells me to leave my top and knickers on.

Over his knee I go. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the mirrors: I'm lying across his lap with the rest of my weight on the bed. He asks me to put my hands behind my back, checks I'm comfortable, and ties my wrists together with the rope. He reaches up and tucks my hair out of my face, treating me to one of his most charming smiles in the mirror. My heart flutters.

Hand spanks first. Solid, stinging, satisfying. Every time we make eye contact in the mirror, sparks fly. When he reaches for the paddle and rests it against my bottom, it feels so cool against my hot cheeks, and I'm conscious that my face, pressed into the pillows, is hot to match.

He starts to use the paddle, proper hard stinging spanks, exactly what I was craving, making me jump and wriggle over his lap. I'm owwing and laughing and loving him, but it hurts. I'm watching my face and bottom turn pinker in the mirror; the former is pleasing and the latter embarrassing. He finds his rhythm and for a while I'm in my happy place. The paddle hurts a lot, but this is my fantasy and every whack makes me more turned on.

After a while he puts the paddle down and uses his hand, the difference in sensation enlivening the sting in my bottom. Does that mean he's bored? Well, maybe not, but he does have the belt in his hand, and he's doubling it up twice to make it easier to aim. The twice-doubled belt is only a few inches long and each stroke is a tiny heavy punch of sensation, none of that licking warmth I usually associate with the belt. I submit to it willingly. Any impact is good with me right now.

I'm red and sore and wriggling when he stops. He helps me up, and there's an ungainly struggle until I'm kneeling next to him on the bed, still bound, tousled and pink-faced and horny. He arranges me facedown on the bed. More spanking! ... But no, he's unzipping, for a quick, rough and dirty fuck which I really, at that point, am not at all minded to complain about.





It was one of the most indulgently instant-gratification scenes I'd ever enjoyed, and it was supremely satisfying. Afterwards I felt very loved, very happy, and very much as if I'd earned my badge.

Kinky Merit Badges

Some friends of mine have recently launched an awesome new concept: kinky merit badges. I'm sure they're not the first to think of the idea, but as far as I know they're the first to actually implement it. Their initial range features 20 beautifully designed, embroidered cloth badges with gold trim to be earned or bestowed for excellence in the field.



Simple concept, but I'm really proud of where they've taken it. The badges are of as high a quality as any official scouting or guiding badge - gorgeous colours, pleasing to hold. The designs are brilliant - all designed to be as flexible and egalitarian as possible, with a range of skin tones, and without any gender prejudice. The Cross-dressing badge in particular is a work of genius, and could just as easily depict a man dressed as a woman or vice versa. Not an easy feat - I'm impressed. The only gender-specific badges are Deep Throat (in which the deep-throater could be male or female, but the recipient definitely has a cock), Shibari (in which the bondage bunny is obviously female-bodied) and Voyeurism (in which the voyeur is unspecified, but they're watching a heterosexual couple).

Not all of the initial range are ones I would be interested in owning, but well over half of them are. I was in the middle of trying to decide whether I should buy any of them to award to my Dom/mes, when my friends at Pernicious Deeds pre-empted me. They gave a full set of badges to D gratis, as a thankyou for his involvement in helping them set up the business, and suggested he award them to me one by one, and they thought I might like to blog each badge as I earned it. This way I get all the badges I'm interested in, some hot scenes and some material for the blog, and they get some publicity - which I would have given them anyway, but I'm not going to turn down an offer like that. :)

Because we're poly, of course, it immediately got much more complicated as D and I tried to work out which badges we were interested in earning together, which ones I might want to earn with Penny, and he and Tom colluded on which ones Tom was going to give me, bearing in mind factors like health and time constraints as well as which kinks I indulge with which partners. I still haven't negotiated any scenes with Tom or Penny, although I have ideas, and while I can guess which badges D and Tom have each claimed for themselves, I have no idea when or how I'll be asked to earn them. And none of us get the chance to play as often as we'd like, so it might take a while to work through them all. But that's no bad thing.

D has just awarded me the first Kinky Merit Badge of my collection. You can probably guess which one. But you'll have to wait until the next post to hear about how I earned it...