Sunday, October 01, 2006
Spankus Interuptus, The Dramatic Conclusion
After a night of excessive carousing, I was discovered passed out in my car by my wife's best friend, Bernie, who was also an officer of the law. Bernie took me home to Angela who, a few days later, decided on an appropriate punishment for me. The last chapter found me well secured on our guest house, and having just received one tremendous blow from a prison strap. In this final episode, I describe the rest of the punishment.
Since I was securely tied, and I was not wearing a watch, I had no idea of the passing of time. So I waited patiently until Angela and Bernie returned, which, true to their word, they eventually did. I began to get excited (if you know what I mean) with the prospect of a good whipping by the love of my life. I had reflected upon Bernie’s presence, and had decided that, since she had brought me home rather than arresting me, and since she did so despite the fact that I was covered in puke, if she wished to observe and even participate in my spanking, I could in no way object.
Angela retrieved the mighty strap. “Are you ready for a good beating now?” she asked, smiling. I anxiously indicated my ascent. Angela, and expert spanker if ever there was one, drew back the strap and let it fly. While not as wicked as Bernie’s stroke, it still hurt a great deal.
Angela proceeded to set the strap aside, and she and Bernie once again headed for the door. “Excuse me, ladies,” I called after them, “aren’t you forgetting something?”
Angela turned her head and smiling, simply said, “No.” Then the two of then disappeared again.
I began to get frustrated. Did Angela really seem intent on giving me the spanko’s version of the infliction known in the medical community as “Testicallus Azurus,” more commonly known as Blue Balls? I decided that I would simply have to wait and see. Besides, I really didn’t have many other options. Eventually I dozed off.
I was startled awake when the two ladies returned. Angela was carrying one of my favorite wooden paddles. She offered me a brief greeting and then, without further delay, she walked up and gave my ass a nice swat. It wasn’t especially hard, and not nearly as painful as the strap had been. I assumed that Angela felt that the strap was perhaps a bit too severe to be used repeatedly, and that the swat was a warm-up to a good, long, paddling. Not surprisingly, I was wrong. Angela laid the paddle on a chair well out of my reach, bid me farewell, and she and Bernie again left me alone.
This went on three or four more times. Even though both Bernie and Angela took turns, and even though they alternated between the paddle and the strap, each lick seemed to be somewhat less intense than the last, and then I was left alone for another hour. I began to get very tense. As the ordeal went on, my language began to get a trifle more abusive and I begged, pleaded, demanded, and insisted on either a proper spanking or to be released from my bonds. Still, I received neither. At one point, Bernie asked me if I was ready for “a good whuppin’.” I readily agreed, but was rewarded with one little whack that was only slightly more than a tap. Then the two ladies laughed and left again. I was beginning to believe that I now understood the deviousness of a Chinese water torture.
As darkness was falling, I was getting desperate. I decided that reasoning with Angela would be appropriate. In my head, I prepared my arguments, beginning with a sincere apology. Therefore, when the door opened again, I opened my mouth to begin do deliver my appeal. For those of you who have followed my other adventures, I’m sure it will come as no surprise that the utterance that came forth from my lips was something like:
“YOU FUCKING BITCH! EITHER BEAT MY ASS OR LET ME GO, GODDAMMIT!!”
I immediately regretted my words, and prepared to apologize when I heard a single voice begin to laugh heartily. Angela was alone this time, and she had a look of pure satisfaction on her face.
“All right, you drunkard,” she said, “I’ll spank you properly. But first we have to talk.”
We discussed my drunken behavior of the night in question. She said that I had scared her tremendously when she saw me because she could picture me either broken and dead on a car wreck, or, perhaps worse, me getting into an altercation with another car and doing great or fatal harm to its occupants. She also said that it would be horrible for her to have to explain to a six-year-old Maribel why her daddy was in jail. I told her that my drinking binge was completely irresponsible, and that, even though living with her when she was pregnant was extremely stressful, drinking until I could not stand was not a proper release for the stress.
When we finished our discussion, we both felt emotional to the point of tears. We both expressed our undying love and respect for each other, and promised to be more mindful of the other person before doing anything so compulsive. Angela came over and gave me a great, big hug. I would have returned the embrace, except that I was still tied down.
Angela then proceeded to roast my ass with the paddle and the strap most deliciously. My relief was most, well, most relieving. She then untied one arm and one leg, allowed me to roll over, and performed upon me the most exquisite fellatio that I had ever experienced.
I don’t know which made the biggest impression on me, the tremendous sickness that I suffered through the next day or the terror in Angela’s voice when she explained her fear of losing me. They were both significant feelings that I shall never forget. I have never since engaged in such an alcoholic orgy, nor do I see a situation where I might wish to. I have an incredible wife and a fine family, and I wish to be able to enjoy them well into my dotage. I guess that, on that day, I realized how fantastic my family truly was.
Since I was securely tied, and I was not wearing a watch, I had no idea of the passing of time. So I waited patiently until Angela and Bernie returned, which, true to their word, they eventually did. I began to get excited (if you know what I mean) with the prospect of a good whipping by the love of my life. I had reflected upon Bernie’s presence, and had decided that, since she had brought me home rather than arresting me, and since she did so despite the fact that I was covered in puke, if she wished to observe and even participate in my spanking, I could in no way object.
Angela retrieved the mighty strap. “Are you ready for a good beating now?” she asked, smiling. I anxiously indicated my ascent. Angela, and expert spanker if ever there was one, drew back the strap and let it fly. While not as wicked as Bernie’s stroke, it still hurt a great deal.
Angela proceeded to set the strap aside, and she and Bernie once again headed for the door. “Excuse me, ladies,” I called after them, “aren’t you forgetting something?”
Angela turned her head and smiling, simply said, “No.” Then the two of then disappeared again.
I began to get frustrated. Did Angela really seem intent on giving me the spanko’s version of the infliction known in the medical community as “Testicallus Azurus,” more commonly known as Blue Balls? I decided that I would simply have to wait and see. Besides, I really didn’t have many other options. Eventually I dozed off.
I was startled awake when the two ladies returned. Angela was carrying one of my favorite wooden paddles. She offered me a brief greeting and then, without further delay, she walked up and gave my ass a nice swat. It wasn’t especially hard, and not nearly as painful as the strap had been. I assumed that Angela felt that the strap was perhaps a bit too severe to be used repeatedly, and that the swat was a warm-up to a good, long, paddling. Not surprisingly, I was wrong. Angela laid the paddle on a chair well out of my reach, bid me farewell, and she and Bernie again left me alone.
This went on three or four more times. Even though both Bernie and Angela took turns, and even though they alternated between the paddle and the strap, each lick seemed to be somewhat less intense than the last, and then I was left alone for another hour. I began to get very tense. As the ordeal went on, my language began to get a trifle more abusive and I begged, pleaded, demanded, and insisted on either a proper spanking or to be released from my bonds. Still, I received neither. At one point, Bernie asked me if I was ready for “a good whuppin’.” I readily agreed, but was rewarded with one little whack that was only slightly more than a tap. Then the two ladies laughed and left again. I was beginning to believe that I now understood the deviousness of a Chinese water torture.
As darkness was falling, I was getting desperate. I decided that reasoning with Angela would be appropriate. In my head, I prepared my arguments, beginning with a sincere apology. Therefore, when the door opened again, I opened my mouth to begin do deliver my appeal. For those of you who have followed my other adventures, I’m sure it will come as no surprise that the utterance that came forth from my lips was something like:
“YOU FUCKING BITCH! EITHER BEAT MY ASS OR LET ME GO, GODDAMMIT!!”
I immediately regretted my words, and prepared to apologize when I heard a single voice begin to laugh heartily. Angela was alone this time, and she had a look of pure satisfaction on her face.
“All right, you drunkard,” she said, “I’ll spank you properly. But first we have to talk.”
We discussed my drunken behavior of the night in question. She said that I had scared her tremendously when she saw me because she could picture me either broken and dead on a car wreck, or, perhaps worse, me getting into an altercation with another car and doing great or fatal harm to its occupants. She also said that it would be horrible for her to have to explain to a six-year-old Maribel why her daddy was in jail. I told her that my drinking binge was completely irresponsible, and that, even though living with her when she was pregnant was extremely stressful, drinking until I could not stand was not a proper release for the stress.
When we finished our discussion, we both felt emotional to the point of tears. We both expressed our undying love and respect for each other, and promised to be more mindful of the other person before doing anything so compulsive. Angela came over and gave me a great, big hug. I would have returned the embrace, except that I was still tied down.
Angela then proceeded to roast my ass with the paddle and the strap most deliciously. My relief was most, well, most relieving. She then untied one arm and one leg, allowed me to roll over, and performed upon me the most exquisite fellatio that I had ever experienced.
I don’t know which made the biggest impression on me, the tremendous sickness that I suffered through the next day or the terror in Angela’s voice when she explained her fear of losing me. They were both significant feelings that I shall never forget. I have never since engaged in such an alcoholic orgy, nor do I see a situation where I might wish to. I have an incredible wife and a fine family, and I wish to be able to enjoy them well into my dotage. I guess that, on that day, I realized how fantastic my family truly was.
