Tuesday, February 17, 2015

RIP Bath Brush

EDIT- I am reposting this after almost 4 years. This is a really lovely post for two reasons. #1. I forgot all the details of this weekend. #2. I am now an old, married woman to the man in this story.

What a weekend. I never wanted it to end. But it did. And now I'm back to the real work of teaching snot nosed children their ABC's.

So here is a story. This story is fiction. This is not what happened during my weekend. I would never be able to write about my weekend in such great detail without being extremely embarrassed, so here is the story of a different girl who also had a fabulous weekend.

The weekend didn't start off the way she was expecting it to. He was running late. Work took longer than he thought. The weather was crappy. He cancelled dinner plans. She was not happy about that. So she pouted. She got in the shower and pouted. Got dressed and pouted. She pouted until he told her to knock it off. Then she was happy because he told her what to do. They timed it perfectly so they would both arrive at the hotel at the same time. It was her job to get drinks for the evening, so with her cute dress and cute hair she went off into the city in hopes of finding a carry out.

With an overnight bag and two six packs of beer she made her way back to the hotel. The wind was outrageous. Thankfully she hadn't been spanked yet, because the dress was blowing up very high. Then it started to rain. And her cute hair was no longer cute. She finally made it back to the hotel. She went to the lobby. He wasn't there. So she sent him a text. No answer. She waited. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. She texted again. No answer. She became frustrated and mad. "What am I going to do with all this damn beer. I can't take it on the train." She said as she stood up and got ready to leave. She sat back down. "10 more minutes and then I'm leaving." Luckily for him, he finally got her texts and she finally got his. The cell phone service in the hotel was useless. So they found each other and they made it to the room and they sat and drank a beer.

He looked at the clock and realized they had been talking non-stop for two hours. "If you feel comfortable and would like to stay, it's time to get started." She felt comfortable. She was ready. He asked her if she brought what he asked her to bring. She did. So with her bath brush in one hand and her hairbrush in the other, she stood in front of him like a naughty little girl. This hotel was a very special hotel. It had the perfect spanking chair. He sat down and took the brush.

 "Do you know why you're getting this spanking?"
 "Yes. Because I lied."
 "I will not put up with lying. I'm going to make that clear right now."

 He made her stand next to him while he was talking to her. She had no where else to look but at him. She wanted to be over his knee staring at the carpet, but she wasn't. He looked at her and didn't say anything. She felt small and nervous.

 "Pull your panties down and get over my knee."
She didn't want to pull her panties down, but he had a bath brush and he didn't look like he was kidding around. So she pulled them down the tiniest bit and looked at him and grinned. He still wasn't amused, so she laid over his lap.

Earlier conversation- 
 "Why don't you use warm up spankings with discipline spankings?" 
 "Do you like being spanked?" 
 "Well a discipline spanking isn't a spanking I want you to like. I want it to hurt from start to finish, so no warm ups." 

True to his word, there was no warm up. There was lecturing. She doesn't remember it. She was too busy squirming and wiggling and begging for him to stop. There was also a lot of giggling from her. "Obviously this isn't hard enough if you are still giggling." He said. That made her giggle more. "No, it hurts. I don't know why I'm laughing." So she wiggled and begged and tried to block and got her hand pinned to her back and whined and wiggled some more. And then it was over. She pulled her panties up and jumped on the bed without any wincing or oww-ing. "I don't think that was hard enough." He said. She just giggled. "I don't know your tolerance. Do you think that was enough to show you that I don't want you to lie to me any more. I don't care how little or stupid you think the lie is, I don't want you doing it. Was that enough?" she hesitated. "I don't know." "I don't think it was. So if I don't spank you more you're going to think I will let you get off easily." "No, I won't. I just think you're too nice. I mean it hurt while you were spanking me, it just doesn't hurt any more." (Author's note- NEVER say, "You're too nice." Never.)

So then he wanted to show her that he wasn't too nice. He pulled her back over his lap and held her hand down and spanked her with that bath brush until it was too cracked to use any more. So then he used the hair brush and that was a joke. It was too light. So he told her to stand up and he went to his bag and got his implements out. He set everything on the edge of the bed, so he could reach them. He grabbed his ping pong paddle. It was just too loud. The walls were paper thin and everything could be heard from the hall way. Then he went to grab something from off the bed and he accidentally dumped her off his lap. She giggled. But not for long. He began using the tawse. She didn't think it was funny any more and she really didn't think he was too nice. He lectured and he spanked and he held her hand in the small of her back. And when she struggled enough it slipped out and she covered her butt, he smacked her hand.

Now this girl had never been spanked by anyone who didn't stop when she said stop. And when she said wait they always waited. But not him. He made it clear he wasn't going to stop until she used her safe word. He was in control until she felt like she couldn't take it any more or if she felt uncomfortable. So she yelled stop and she yelled wait, but he didn't do either of those. All she could do was cry. She cried and cried and cried. And she felt so much better while she was crying.

She said things like, "That's enough." And "Not so hard." And he said things like, "I'll decide when it's enough." And "I think this is just hard enough."  And after what he later thought was about 60 strokes, he stopped. She cried. He hugged her. And then the fun began.

There were canes and straps and belts and paddles in his bag, so they were set for the entire weekend. She finally got to see what a cane feels like, but after two days of spanking, she wasn't marking from the cane. Not on her thighs or her butt, so he suggested the front of her thighs. He said she would be able to see it and it would definitely mark, so they tried it because she really, really likes bruises and marks. It worked. It felt like she got 3rd degree burns, but the marks were amazing.

On the second night she must have been behaving because she got a good girl spanking. Fingers were exploring and hands were spanking and she was truly in heaven.

And then it was Sunday. Time to leave the hotel. Time to go home. Sunday would be horrible or so she thought. She couldn't get out of bed. That would mean they were that much closer to leaving. It took some motivation from the cane and tawse. She finally got up and got ready and they had a fabulous (mostly) vanilla afternoon of walks and parks and people watching and ice cream and little spanks here and there. And then it was Monday and she was counting down to the next time she would see him.

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