I was back on track once more with my self spanking regime, I had set my tasks, I had set my punishments in case of failure and I gave myself a week to complete the 5 tasks I had set. They weren’t difficult to achieve, they weren’t lofty goals and huge aspiration mountains I needed to climb. They were 5 simple tasks. I thought I should go easy on my bottom for a little while. It had taken a proper pounding in recent weeks and it wasn’t used to the continual action it was now getting on a regular basis.
I am always aware that I need to be kind to myself as well as strict and so I had set 5 easy to accomplish tasks because I wasn’t sure how much spanking I could take.
Apparently I must have been really hungry for a spanking because of the five tasks, I managed to complete just one. I managed to get the three sets of accounts I was working on, completed and ready for the tax man. The rest of my tasks were as follows.
- Complete summary statements for accounts, x 3 sets. Completed. (Give that woman a Gold star!)
- Empty workshop of ex’s stuff and dispose of or sell stuff. Not completed, not started, too overwhelming! (its a solid excuse if you claim trauma, unfortunately I can’t, I’m not traumatised!)
- Complete game stats for sports club for previous 3 months. (0 completed yeah I have to get this done, very bad form now but it is the middle of the season so no pressure really. The coach will thank me nicely for them in January)
- Cleaning house. (it’s not that untidy it can wait?)
- Weed garden. (the weeds like it here, I feel bad for killing them, they can stay a bit longer.)
So, what was I doing instead of the above simple tasks? I wrote some stuff about spanking experiences, I went to see friends, went to the Ballet, went to watch a Shakespeare play, I played online games for a few hours daily, and generally thought more and more about spanking, in particular my most recent one with the Wilsons, and the effects it had on me. I also explored in great detail the beneficial side effects of a bloody good spanking. I barely got dressed for the whole week! It’s how this blog came about. Generally, I had a lazy week and I consoled myself with the fact that I always work better with a deadline in place. My deadline is the end of Jan 2020, so no pressure yet.
I flipped the page and I viewed the list of punishments for not completing my tasks.
Shit! I have a crap memory so I never remember what I’ve written down until I go back and read it again and it always comes as a shock, the same thing applies to my writing. I can’t remember what I’ve written and I have to constantly re-read to make sure I’m still talking about the same subject all the way through. It’s a sign of a mithered mind.
The heaviest punishment was off the list anyway so I breathed a sigh of relief. I had managed to complete the accounts and they had carried 100 strokes per cheek with the brown strap for each individual set of accounts so 600 strokes of leather off the menu! WHOOP! Go me!
My jubilation was short lived. I read on.
The workshop is a huge shed my ex-husband used to virtually live in at the end of my garden and my ex has been gone a good few years now. I use the shed but I don’t use it properly and I needed the space freeing up so I could put it to better use. I want to clear it to put my recently acquired inflatable hot tub in it for the winter months so I could still use it. I didn’t clear the shed, the hot tub is now getting battered by the lousy weather and I may have to deflate it and put it away for the winter.
I need my hot tub, I need the therapeutic effects it has on my tension and stress build up over a day/week whatever. Glass of wine, a good book on the kindle and an hour in the hot tub in the evening is better than any tablet a doctor could prescribe! And, if it’s in the shed I get to go in it naked! Oh yes! No more flashing my breasts off to the neighbour who lives to the rear of my property.
Peeping Tom was out there again last night watching me as I climbed into the hot tub, the devil made me do it, I stood up and slid out of my swimsuit and flashed my bouncing beauties at him before I sank back down into the water and lifted my glass of wine to my smiling lips. I couldn’t hear anything because of the spa jets working but each time I glanced over I swear he was still stood there! It was dark so I couldn’t see that well. I did feel deliciously naughty though.
Hmm, perhaps I am something of an exhibitionist afterall. Anyway, I was in the privacy of my own garden which is well fenced and can only be viewed if you stand on something to see over the fence. He was standing on a large rock so it wasn’t me who started the whole peeping tom thing off! I have no remorse and the whole episode made my bottom and pussy tingle with excitement! He isn’t that bad looking either, the mature side of 45 I think but in relatively good shape from what I could see. He was new to the area and pretty much kept himself to himself. I hadn’t seen a wife or family in tow so I can only assume he’s single. No idea, I don’t really care to be honest, I’m happy flying solo and living inside my imagination and having a real relationship with my spanking implements. They never let me down or disappoint me.
Anyway, I digress…
Punishment for not completing the above task. 100 per cheek with the brown leather strap and 5 minutes corner time, followed by 12 with the cane and some tiger balm applied immediately after the spanking.
What the bloody hell was I thinking? I could take the strap, that was going to be okay, but the cane was a different matter. It hurt like hell over an already tenderised bottom.
For non-completion of the stats, 200 swats per cheek with the hairbrush followed by 5 minutes corner time and 6 strokes of the cane.
It’s official, I’ve taken leave of my senses!
Cleaning house or not in my case, 100 swats per cheek with the spatula, 5 minutes corner time and 6 strokes of the belt.
This was adding up to being a monstrous spanking again! It doesn’t pay to be lazy!
Not weeding the garden. In my defence the weather has been appallingly bad so I haven’t really been able to get out there and do it. Regardless, I had written down the punishment and I was going to have to see it through.
300 swats with the hairbrush. 150 to each cheek. No orgasms for 2 days, and write 100 lines saying, ‘I must not be lazy and I deserve a hard spanking.’ 20 minutes corner time.
Obviously weeding the garden had been important to me at the time I wrote this list out! Shame I didn’t remember that bit! And really? What on earth was I thinking there? 100 lines? I was gonna end up with RSI from all that writing!
So the total punishment looked like this:
10 minute warm up hand spanking.
200 swats with the spatula (100 per cheek) 5 minutes corner time
700 (I kid you not) swats with the evil hairbrush (350 per cheek) 5 minutes corner time followed by applying tiger balm to my bottom and thighs.
6 strokes of the belt & 5 minutes corner time.
18 strokes with the cane followed by 20 minutes corner time.
Jesus christ almighty what on earth had possessed me to write that lot down?
I sucked it up though. I was going through with this because even I could see I was just being completely lazy and undisciplined and it had to stop! All of these tasks could have been completed easily and without too much effort either.
I took a deep breath and went off to the bedroom to prepare for my spanking. I had developed a little ritual now, I would sit at the kitchen table and read my tasks and punishments and I would then go upstairs and change into my spanking outfit. I would lay out the implements in the order they were to be used along with my list of instructions and then I would DRAW the bloody curtains!
I was ready, I was dressed in my stockings, suspenders, white panties and bra and my stiletto heels. My bra was now a half cup lace bra in white and it was never designed to control or hold my puppies in place for longer than a nanosecond. I was fine with this, if they tumbled out it would remind me of Mr and Mrs Wilson and him tenting despite his best efforts to hide it.
I remembered I hadn’t locked the front door and I have friends and neighbours who will just randomly appear in my house. I’d had enough of audience participation for now so I ran down the stairs and turned the key in the door.
I ran back upstairs, panting slightly, I am not given to running, it’s unbecoming and it makes you sweat quite frankly! It struck me as funny too, I was running towards a spanking instead of away from one? I’m beginning to wonder about me, you know!
Finally, I positioned myself over the end of the bed, I brought my hand back and began to deliver little sharp slaps over my panties, I quickly got bored with this routine and progressed almost immediately to dropping my panties around my ankles and began the real contact warm up. I wanted to feel the heat and I spanked hard for a good 10 minutes. I inspected my bottom at the end of the ten and was really surprised to see my bottom hadn’t really changed much in colour at all. It did no good to cut corners apparently. I got cross with myself and started the ten minute warm up hand spank all over again.
I checked at the end and this time I had the rosy glow of a well spanked bottom. A little heat, no sting just that yummy warmth that begins to creep through and along to my pussy to make it tingle slightly. I could feel my excitement ratcheting up a notch and I prepared myself to take 200 swats with the spatula.
Over the weeks I have been doing this, I have developed a style of delivery for each implement. The spatula works best if I hold it almost at the end of the handle shaft and bring the spank in from the side of my body rather than from above. I achieve a more accurate smack and it lands heavier and therefore sharper than the thud if I bring it down from above. The other bonus with this position is that I can catch both cheeks with one swat, that doesn’t mean I cheat either, I still delivered 100 swats to each cheek but it felt like I was receiving double. My juices were beginning to flow and mid way through the spanking I was moaning and rolling my hips, almost in delight at the throbbing and blooming across my bottom from the twin spanks it was receiving. It felt amazing and I slowed down to concentrate on the sensations I was getting.
I was desperate to run my fingers over my pussy but I kept thinking about the no orgasms for 2 days punishment and I remained true to my own dictate.
I finished the spatula spanks with a hurried flurry of sharp hard spanks to both my cheeks and thighs and finally I placed the spatula on the bed and stood up. I looked in the mirror behind me to inspect my bottom and I was rewarded with twin bruises forming in the centre of both cheeks. I fingered the bruises lightly, I stroked my nails across the surface of my bottom, I squeezed my cheeks a little and then I lifted my left leg and placed my foot on the bed exposing my wet pussy to the mirror. I quickly glanced over my shoulder to make sure the curtains were properly drawn and then ran my finger down my pussy lips, I didn’t push past them though, I stuck to the letter of the punishment. No orgasm had to mean no play or stroking. I did run my finger to my little butt hole, it was almost a virgin area the only visitor ever having been Mrs Wilson the other week and that was a very brief visit. I had so enjoyed the sensations she had created by just inserting her finger into the rim of my butt and I tried it myself now. Ooh… That was definitely something that was going to require further investigation when the ban was lifted. Sighing a little I put my raised foot back down on the floor and I walked over to the corner for 5 minutes of corner time. My panties were around one ankle so my usual ungainly stagger was not present and I actually missed it. I bent down and popped my panties back over my other foot and stood with them stretched between my two ankles. I felt better and a little silly for making a fuss about it. I used the emotion to chastise myself a little and I did my corner time, safe in the knowledge I was unobserved this time.
All too soon it was time to shuffle back to the end of the bed and assume the position for the 700 swats with the hairbrush. My pussy tightened and my bottom throbbed heavily just at the thought. I bent over and raised the brush to the side again, and delivered the first of many stinging slaps and spanks, wallops and swats all over my twin red globes and thighs. Jesus this hurt. After 100 swats I was panting and moaning a little and I realised I still had 600 to go!
The enormity of my task was now impacting my pain fuelled brain. I started to pace myself for the second set of 100. My cheeks were rosy everywhere and bright red in the centre where my aim appeared to be most true. I was letting out little yelps now with each swat and I was beginning to feel less horny and more punished. I kept up the pace and spanked and spanked until I reached the end of the first set of 350. Oh my life this hurt like hell! I hate that fucking hairbrush and it’s going in the bin! I took a short pause for a breath and smoothed my palm over my heated twin globes, I didn’t dare touch my thighs, they were burning! My skin felt so hot and dry! I glanced over to the dressing table with all my lotions and potions on it and had the brilliant idea of massaging some much needed moisture into my poor skin. I chose a lovely body lotion, not too thick and so very cooling and applied it all over my very red and sore bottom and thighs. I felt like I might have cheated a little but I consoled myself with the thought that I had to be kind to myself too, and my spankings weren’t about damaging me they were about disciplining me to adjust my bad behaviour. I rubbed a little of the lotion between my thighs and my clit sprang to life with a heavy throbbing all of its own. I was desperate to rub but I stopped myself. I bent over and retrieved the horrid hairbrush, 350 to go and I was doing this. I began with a sharp flurry of rapid hard spanks to both cheeks and JESUS CHRIST ALL FUCKING MIGHTY!! OMG!!! OMG!! OMG!!! The stinging was beyond anything I had ever experienced before! What the actual fuck had I done to myself? I later realised that adding any moisture to the spanking area was guaranteed to intensify the pain because it brought about better contact especially if the implement was made of wood! FUCK!!! Well moisturised arse was now singing LOUDLY to the choir and I had no option but to continue because I needed to do this spanking for myself.
I am of the mind these days, that if I start something to help me I must see it through to the end, this is one of my new mantras to try and get myself better organised and more in control of the shambles that is my daily life. Besides, I also reason that, had the spanking been being delivered by A.N.Other they would not be stopping because I had just made a tactical error of judgement and made my spanking worse for myself. In my head I could hear Mrs Wilson laughing with glee at my misfortune!
With tears in my eyes and a well bitten lip I assumed the position once more. I raised the hairbrush and brought down with a volley of well aimed spanks and I leapt about wailing and cursing and then repositioned and did it again and again. I had forgotten to count the first three volleys and had no idea how many spanks I had applied already so I started at 50 and let myself off from starting from scratch. I wanted this over now, it was so bloody painful.
Finally and none too soon I can tell you, I reached the end of the second set of 350 spanks with the soon to be burnt to a cinder, wooden hairbrush and I threw it across the room by the door. I threw myself onto my bed and sobbed and called myself all the names under the sun for my own stupidity for a full 5 minutes. Eventually, I remembered I still had plenty of spankings left to come so I clambered off the bed and read my instructions. My corner time had been eaten up with the pity party I had just allowed myself and I gulped and cringed at the next set of instructions. If I thought my bottom was hurting right now, it was about to get ten times worse. Tiger balm. Oh shit!
I shook my head in denial of what was to come, I picked up the tiny little innocuous looking jar and I unscrewed the lid. I dipped my finger into the pungent ointment and scooped out a small amount. I bent over the bed and rubbed it into my throbbing bottom and thighs. It didn’t go very far, I had to apply 4 lots to cover the whole area. NEVER, EVER, EVER, AGAIN!!!!
Not ever doing that to myself again! Never!
I was so upset with myself I told myself off in the mirror and said I deserved what ever punishment I had left.
I shuffled over to the corner and did my 5 minute corner time, by the end of that, I was on fire, literally on fire, my thighs were glowing red and my bottom was just raw heat! I read the next set of instructions and I laughed a little hysterically as I picked up the leather belt and doubled it over. I assumed the position lifting my bottom up high and I brought that belt across both cheeks the same way Mr Wilson had, I squealed, loudly, I brought the belt back and delivered a second heavy stroke, this time across my thighs, I was sobbing now, everything hurt so damn much, I ploughed quickly through the remaining 4 strokes of the belt and it flew across my buttocks like a whip I went so fast. Welts were appearing before I had even stood upright. I sniffled, I blew my runny nose and I wiped my eyes, I went and shuffled across to the door and kicked the hairbrush across the floor in temper. I stood with my nose pressed into the corner of the wall and my arms behind my back resting on the top of my buttocks. I didn’t know where I didn’t hurt, my thighs were just a solid block of pain and when I gingerly stroked my bottom I had twin solid patches on each cheek that wouldn’t move at all. It felt like two hard blocks of leather. I did 5 minutes in the corner and then shuffled back to the bed with my head down and I was feeling very sorry for myself. I picked up the cane, I positioned my bottom high, I raised my head slightly so I could view the strokes in the mirror, I raised the cane and brought it down for the first stroke! I felt it bite deeply into my traumatised bottom and I howled loudly. I didn’t care anymore, I raised that cane and I swung it down and across both cheeks, then the thighs then the cheeks again, I didn’t stop until I screamed out 12!
I put the cane down and picked up my instructions, I was finally at the end of my punishment and I was going to take great pleasure in ticking them all off my list.
I got to the canings and I placed a large tick right through the instruction. It was about then that my poor pain beleagured brain processed the number of strokes I was supposed to receive. I had done 12, I had screamed 12 I still had 6 to do. I had given myself 18 strokes of the cane! For Fucks SAKE!
I shook my head in utter despair and I retrieved the cane from up the bed, I bent over and I striped my arse with those last 6 strokes! I literally had a row of 6 stripes that looked like a damned sideways barcode!
I threw the cane down, I blew my nose and I shuffled over to the corner for my final 20 minutes of corner time. Oh my goodness, my poor bottom and thighs, my god I hurt! The painful throbbing was doubled by the heat of the tiger balm and the moisture still in my skin from the lotion I had applied. Canes are wooden too. Bollocks!
I remained in the corner for the whole 20 minutes, I was not going to cheat at this late stage because I would only end up punishing myself for cheating if I did. I saw the punishment through to the very bitter painful end and I vowed once more to learn from my mistakes, to correct my silly behaviour, to stop being lazy and to start acting like the responsible professional adult I was supposed to be, I needed to step into the role I presented to the outside world and actually start living the life others thought I did. A well organised, self employed successful business woman who had the tiger by tail and a smile on my lips while doing so. I knew how to act it, but I was never really completely present in my heart for it. I could win an oscar for my performance in the boardrooms I frequented, but underneath it all I was still rebelling against the authority, I was still fighting with the formality of it all and I hated the fucking rules that came because of it!
I had to stop breaking the rules. Before I broke my bottom and thighs!