#352) A Gift to Me

It was a typical Tuesday evening. I was setting the table, dinner was simmering on the stove. Jay came in through the garage door. I greeted him with a passionate kiss. His hands cupped my biggest curves through my tight jeans.
“How long’s it been since I disciplined this magnificent ass?” he smiles, rubbing it more.
“Too long,” I answer honestly.
“I think I need to give you a hard, maintenance strapping before bed tonight, Julie…”
I press the length of my body against his, press my mouth back on his lips, everything about me screaming the nonverbal message of YES! Yes, lover, yes! But then this doesn’t seem sufficient. I reach over and turn the burner on the stovetop down to its lowest setting, Jay sees this and knows that it will no longer be a typical Tuesday evening.
“First,” I breathe in his ear, “I don’t want to wait until bedtime! Don’t make me wait for it! Can you survive without dinner for a while? Because I don’t think I can survive until later for your stern attentions…”
He nods. My elation shows on my face as I unbuckle my jeans, pulling both pairs of pants down to my knees, turning my underwear inside-out in the process. I stay bent over, arching my bare ass out supplicantly.
“Second,” I continue, “you ought to know that you phrased that perfectly when you said you’d ‘give me a strapping tonight.’ It is a gift to me! I cherish every disciplining you bestow on me, lover. I don’t want one, I’m not a fool, strappings hurt, they’re hell to get through! But I need it, Jay! Your hard discipline gives meaning to my life! I mean that! I’m not a submissive without your Dominance of me, and I’m nothing if not a submissive…”
Jay takes me by the hand and walks me into the great-room, where our toychest is. That means he’s not going to use the belt that encircles his waist on my bottom. This is good news. His thin dress belt would sting; the straps inside the toychest are thick and consequential. I’m going to get a hard beating, just as he mentioned. I can only take small, mincing steps with my pants pulled down. This gait makes my butt wriggle more than usual, making me feel sexy as hell. I take inventory of the rest of me. My heart is racing, my pulse pounding in my ears, and my sex is getting wet in anticipation, as are my armpits. My mouth is cotton-dry. I close my eyes.
“I’m saying a prayer right now, Jay, a prayer of gratitude. Thank you for not making me wait until later for my lesson! I’m praying for calm because the strapping that awaits me scares the shit out of me! And I’m praying a prayer of thanksgiving because I’m so glad I was born a bottom and that I found you as my Top in this lifetime!”
I open my eyes to see that Jay has removed the Scottish tawse from our toychest. Of all the leather implements in there, this one hurts the most. This one brings me to my crucible the fastest, the most assuredly, boiling me down to my essence, forging the impurities out of my me. My butt is in for a blistering! I couldn’t be more elated, just want to get it over with, get to the depths of my sub space, get to my happy place.
“When I got out of the shower this morning, I looked at my pale ass in the bathroom mirror as I dried-off. I thought for the millionth time that my ass looked pretty good, especially for someone approaching middle age, but it didn’t look complete. My butt never looks right if it’s not marked with your bruises, Jay! Promise me one of the hardest strappings you’ve ever given me tonight, please, lover. I need it! I want to have to think about doing anything involving my bottom for the week ahead, whether it’s something as simple and utilitarian as sitting or shitting, or anything else. I want to feel the extra sexiness of a purple butt, the thrill of its stiffness, soreness, the constant hunger created in my sex when I have a beaten bottom…”
“Why don’t you take a position bent over the toychest, Julie? Let’s get started…”
Suddenly all my bravura and bold words evaporate, as I become a little girl with her pants down. Goose pimples rise all over my skin’s surface, my knees are nearly knocking.
“Please… give me a little warm-up with your hand first? I’m scared…”
Jay sits on the large wooden chest, pulls me across his lap, my body bisecting his with my bared bottom made uppermost, my vulnerability most pronounced, all my private places put on display. Jay gives me a sound spanking. I’m in a headspace where I start sobbing after the fifth swat lands. It’s been too long since I was given this precious gift. It’s a hard, fast-paced spanking that heats me quickly, melts me profoundly. The spanking lasts about three intense minutes, when I’m abruptly put on my feet, bent over and my strapping starts. Jay cracks the thick, supple leather across my beam with sharp, focused strokes. I feel each one of the edges cut length-wise in the long implement as each makes its presence felt across my tender tush. It feels like the edges cut into me, but I steal a glimpse over my shoulder in the full length mirror on the great-room’s opposite wall and see that the skin is not broken. I watch as my flesh jumps and ripples under the impact, my muscles flinch and relax, my color deepens from spanked pink to tomato red in a mere minute of thrashing. He tans my hide with his leather as I clench my teeth to keep them from rattling, to keep me from begging for mercy, to prevent me from screaming, so that just little yelps leap out of my throat. I know now that I’m high on endorphins, I feel the harsh hiding while I float above it all simultaneously. Jay senses this.
“Go stand in the corner and display your red bottom for five minutes, little girl. We’ll let feeling return, then give you another hard set…”
“Yes, sir,” I sob, and waddle my way across the room with pants now adorning my ankles. I feel Jay’s eyes on my radiant rump as I go, and wonder if he finds me sexy like this, my make-up ruined in tear-streaks, my nose running with clear snot, my voice broken and hoarse. How could he not? I’m in agony, but still feel voraciously hungry for sex, as my swollen and fragrant and steaming vajay-jay proclaims.
I hate corner-time, never serve it with the proper attitude. I try to sneak a rub in when he’s not looking, trying to quench the infernal burning in my bum. Jay rewards this with two sharp spanks. I slouch and don’t press my nose firmly to the wall, and get two more stingers for this, as well. I can tell that feeling has returned to my once-numb bottom-cheeks, and Jay leads me back to the chest, puts me back in position. I now lament my challenge asking for a memorable strapping, I wish it were over. I stick my butt out extra submissively, making sure my anus and vagina are visible to my lover, ready for him when he is for me. But he doesn’t show me leniency, rather he gives me more strap strokes than I’ve ever received in one set before. By the end, my tail-end is magenta red, and Jay had taken all the starch out of me. Perhaps most importantly for my poor partner, I am all out of words. My need for discipline is met. I feel like I have fulfilled my fate by taking the gift my Top wanted to give me. I am pure desire now. I stay bent over, assist Jay in getting his cock out and in guiding it into my core. Three punishing thrusts later and I’m climaxing. He pushes me through one orgasm and into the next, he does this over and over again. I just keep scaling higher from one lofty plateau to the next. So many orgasms one right after the other. We both know that there is only one way to end this. While still hammering my sex from behind, Jay opens the toychest, extracts a tube of lubricant and opens its cap. The cool gel feels heavenly as Jay fingers gobs of it up my bottom, making the orgasms all the more intense and frequent.
Normally, Jay takes a lot of time with this act we’re about to share, letting me control the progress and pace. But this time nothing is normal. One minute he’s fucking my pussy hard and fingering my butt hole deeply, and then his hands are parting my buttocks wide and his cock is pushing up my rectum. I’m doubled over with the sinful delight of this dirtiest of deeds. It’s the stark difference between an angel’s celebration of the splendors of the kingdom of God, and then suddenly a devil’s glee in all the debauched deliciousness of hell.
I mean it when I emphatically state that I have a love/hate relationship with anal intercourse. It brings me to the stark realization that I am a dirty whore at my essence. I like to fantasize that I’m a Park Avenue prostitute, a high-end call girl, worshiped for her beauty and her sexual skills, well-paid and sought-after. But butt sex brings me to the fact that I am the cheapest, most common slut in reality. How could I enjoy something so degrading? Why do I love to be debased in this way? Ass fucking is so primal, so intense, so borderline painful; I have to constantly tell myself to relax, to take it, to keep everything soft and receptive. And then to realize that I’m going to be brought to orgasm from this dirty deed, that my lover is going to climax as well, and do it in my butt! But I am made to face these facts, as Jay fucks my anus, fills my rectum, makes my foul exit a fantastic entrance, my eliminatory canal another sex organ…
“Oh, fuck my ass! Fuck my ass for me, lover! Oh fuck! Oh, oh, oh…”
There is nothing that makes me feel dirtier than enjoying an orgasm from a butt fucking, from feeling my man cum inside me there, from the feeling of my well-used anus afterward. I insisted that we shower together, and when I shared with Jay that no amount of scrubbing or soaping under the scalding hot water would make me feel clean, he turned me over yet again and spanked my wet bottom. This session was intimate, innocence-motivated, pure, poignant. It was like love-making, it was better than love-making; it was ours, how we show our caring, how we cement our bond. It was the best gift of all; I’d indulged in something that felt wrong and sinful, and this spanking on my very tender fanny made it all right and restored my morality. As is always the case, but as is so evident at this moment, Jay’s hard disciplining of my bottom makes me whole. His corporal punishment defines me.
Not for the first time, we ate dinner late at night by candlelight, with me sitting gingerly on Jay’s lap, with him feeding me, with both of us noticing the re-hardening of Jay’s cock under my moist and rosy cheeks. I get down on my knees, kneel before my lover and Top, and take his turgid tumescence into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his knob, I take his length down my throat, I gag, eyes watering and mouth salivating. It’s messy and none too skilled, but so sincere an act that I now bestow on Jay. I look up at him with longing eyes as I suck him hard. Use me in any way you wish, I’m saying to him with my eyes, my mouth, my being. Jay fucks my face as energetically as he just did my other holes. I give myself over to it, accept the demands he places on me, just keep sucking, keep my throat as open as I just did my butt hole. He comes. He climaxes with jets of spunk, spraying it down my gullet, then against the back of my throat, then filling my mouth, and out to visibly show that I brought him off in this special way, this submissive way, as he dribbles white blobs of cum on my pink boobies and pinker nipples.
“A pearl necklace! My first pearl necklace! I sucked you to climax!” I enthuse as I rub the stickiness into my skin, hoping it’ll fertilize my tiny tits and make them grow. I don’t need any more dinner. All my appetites, all my ravenous hungers have been sated. And I’ve satisfied my lover to boot. I wiggle my booty in his face. At other times, this might be seen as a taunt, or an invitation, but now it’s just a statement of our love. “Follow me to bed, lover. I want to cuddle with you close, sleep as if one being, share the same deep dream…” He gets up, follows me to the point of tailgating.
“You’re very red back here,” he comments as he caresses.
“It feels raw. I feel raw,” I murmur and kiss him with all my soul. “Thank you for my gift!”

I want to focus on Inspiration for a moment. I get so much inspiration from the pictures I find on Tumblr! Look at the photo above this piece, please. The faint elastic imprint on this bounteous beauty’s skin seized me, got my mind churning, got my juices flowing. That’s the “before” shot. Her buttocks have JUST been bared. Now the fun begins…

Then we have this photo on the left as the “after” one. I’m not alone as a submissive who rejoices in having bruises left behind on my behind, hoping that the aftereffects of a strict disciplining will linger longer than they do, keeping the vivid memory of it all alive.

Having both benefited and suffered under a religious upbringing, this painting of the devil plying his trade captured my mind, my thoughts, which fashioned my words (here in this piece and elsewhere). Especially during anal intercourse, I feel as if trapped in the devil’s grip, made to enjoy the sin of the act. Just being driven down into the depths of my sub space can bring me to a special, addictive Hell.

Conversely, I don’t usually feel uplifted by angels when divine thoughts or deeds fill me; they seem more like a plague teasing and titillating me with superlative pleasures. I love how in this artwork, three angels are whispering to her simultaneously, overloading her mind, while all the rest are focusing on her around back, devising butt stuff to engage her sexually.

There’s a little glimpse into the inner-workings of my dirty mind, dear reader.

10 responses to “#352) A Gift to Me”

  1. “…my swollen and fragrant and steaming vajay-jay…”

    God, you have great phrasing! Who doesn’t know what that means (and entails what’s to come)?

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I would have loved this post just ’cause of the pics!
    Butt I am soooo glad you weren’t limiting the post at that. You told a beautiful erotic story that gave me a glimpse into you. Then you added a description of your physical, emotional and even spiritual associations with your deep craving for and your need for intensely painful ministrations to your bottom.
    Thank You for sharing these deep revelations about yourself.
    A truly great post. Thanx again!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. That is lovely Jean Marie. You capture the need for a beating beautifully. You may have the perfect bottom for it, but the feelings and need that I have are exactly the same. A light stroke with a strap is just painful and annoying but a full out hard stroke is a whole body experience.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Well stated, merksmith! You capture a strapping in words very eloquently. I felt them zing up my spinal column, in my sex, at the roots of my hair, as well as across the bottom in my past. Truly a whole body experience.

      Liked by 2 people

  4. I am so happy that Nora directed me to your blog. It is like a very beautiful soul mate. You can put into words what I so often think but can’t put into words so beautifully.
    Glad that you exist, dear Jean-Marie.
    Thank you Nora.

    Liked by 2 people

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