#167) Other-Worldly Bruises – mild content

If it were left up to me, I’d receive only hand spankings. Lots of spankings with my lover’s bare hand on my bared bum, some fuzzy-warm-wake-up spankings, some hard, punishing spankings for this naughty girl before early-bed, and everything in-between but just spankings.
My lover knows me better than I know myself. He knows that sometimes I need more. To keep me from “getting too big for my britches” he lovingly administers what I need. About once a month or so (amazingly often in-synch with my fertility cycle), after I’ve gotten a good, hard spanking, he’ll tell me that we’re not finished, that I need to feel the paddle.
“Not the paddle..” I’ll wheedle, trying to kiss my Top, get him to notice my hardened nipples and aroused sex.
“Yes, fetch the long paddle, please.”
“I HATE wooden implements, how about…”
“The paddle! Stop stalling! Now!” and he’ll send me on my way with a swat.
When I return with this dreaded implement of ass destruction, I’m instructed to bend over a convenient flat surface (desk, table, counter-top…) instead of the beloved over the knee position. This is so that my lover can have more room for a full swing. After that first swat, I literally see stars behind my tightly squeezed-shut eyes. I stand bolt upright, I dance about, I grip my wounded cheeks and futilely rub the fire that won’t be extinguished for a long time to come, I cry, I beg mercy… and I obediently re-assume the position. It takes all my considerable willpower to stick my butt out like my Top desires. My mantra is to repeat, “the sooner you bend over, the sooner it’ll all be over with” to myself.
Simultaneous with that ear-splitting wallop is the same-only-worse out-of-this-world sting, and I stand, dance, rub… Over and over, wicked whack after curse-inspiring, deluge of tears inspiring, wicked whack.
But the butt beating that wears me out inspires some other things. I always feel betrayed by my body, but it gets sexually aroused from discipline in proportion to the severity of said discipline. Hand spankings get me wet, hard paddlings get me REALLY wet.
Most inspirational, a day or two after the paddling, what had first been redness, then an ashy blistering, next angry sit-spot ovals, now has blossomed into full-blown bruises. The bruises from a thorough paddling are like nothing else. The entire expanse of my buttocks and backs of my thighs are covered in vivid colors. The bruises look like all those pictures we’ve seen of our universe. Galaxies of the stars I saw while taking the board-beating collecting into a beautiful array of splendor. They keep me from sitting comfortably for days afterward. Days I spend laying on my tummy on my bed in the nude because any clothing just aggravates the pain. I have to hover over the seat when attending to my toilette. They keep me in a perpetual state of bliss, marked by my lover as his, returned to his graces as a good girl.
Seeing these galaxies bloom across my backside, feeling the stiffness with the slightest movement, feeling the pain if I dare brush against anything back there, excites me greatly. I reach underneath a hip and diddle at my aroused sex. I always find my clitoris achingly erect and easy to bring to climax. And again I see stars as I kiss the face of God in his heaven.

One response to “#167) Other-Worldly Bruises – mild content”

  1. I vividly remember the first time I ended-up marked after a hard punishment on my bottom-end. Newbie-me thought it was terrible to have the beauty of my buttocks blemished. Over time, I, like many other subs, grew to appreciate the vivid splendor and appeal of being marked. I now think of bruises as my “red badge of courage” for having withstood the ordeal. I wanted to put that down on white paper (first draft) and share these thoughts with you; enjoy!

    Liked by 2 people

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