Maintenance Night

     My eyes are open, but I can't see anything but black behind the blindfold you've secured tightly around my head. My other senses are heightened, and I use them to try to piece together what is going on around me. Carpet that usually feels nice on my toes doesn't feel so nice on my knees, where I wait for further instruction. I know that you're rummaging through the toy drawer, and that makes me nervous. I know that it's maintenance night, but I have no idea if the spanking will be serious or not. My heart pounds, my brain running wild with the possibilities of what you may be planning.

     Your voice breaks through the darkness, "Have you been a good girl this week?"

     I quickly replay the week in my head. I don't think I've done anything wrong, and I say so.

     "You don't think you've done anything wrong?" you ask, sternly.

     My stomach sinks. What did I do? I asked myself, wracking my brain. I know this is what you want, to make me second guess myself, unsure .. maybe confess to something you don't know about. "No?"

     "No. Hmm. I seem to recall hearing that word a lot this past week." you say. Your voice is getting closer to me as you speak and soon your hand closes around my arm, helping me roughly to my feet. "Way too much, if you ask me." You move me to the end of the bed and fold me over the liberator you've placed there.

     I didn't, I think, not daring to speak the words aloud. I feel uneasy as you bend me over, wishing I could put my hands out to guide myself, but they are tied tightly together behind my back. A little whimper escapes my lips as I feel your huge, warm hand rest against my bare bottom.

     "What is the purpose of maintenance?" You ask.

     "Um, to remind me...well, both of us....of our roles." I whisper, almost embarassed to say the words.

     "Which are?"

     "You're the dominant one, and I'm the submissive."

     "Exactly." You start spanking me, slowly and deliberately. Your hand is so big and it covers almost my whole bum cheek each time it lands. "That means that when I tell you to do something, you are supposd to do it. Isn't that right?"

     "Yes sir," I reply, shifting my weight a little. It doesnt hurt all that much yet, but the sting is quickly building. Each time your hand falls on my unprotected flesh, it burns a little more, makes the skin a little warmer. In no time, my whole backside is ablaze, and as you start ramping up the speed, I begin squirming to avoid the swats. "Ouch!" I cry out, whimpering.

     You pause, now, grabbing handfuls of my ass and squeezing hard. My groan of protest does not deter you from repeating this a second time. "Yeah, I think that you're warmed up enough now," you tell me quietly.

     I hear you move, can feel you lean over and then right yourself again. I imagine you've picked up an implement and I clench my bottom in anticipation. God, I wish I could see! Despite my dread of what is to come, I am so damn turned on by how in control you are. Suddenly I realize that I don't know where you are. I can't hear you moving, I don't feel you anywhere near me. "Sir?" I murmur quietly, hoping you will answer .. but knowing you might not. I listen hard. Nothing. "Sir please,"

     You answer me in the form of leather being sternly applied to my hot skin. After about 10 or so strokes you finally speak. "Do you think I enjoy being told no?"
     "NO sir! I'm sorryyy," I want to protect my bottom, wish I could put my hand back and buy myself a repreive but I can't. I have no choice but to lie here and take whatever you decide to give me. I clench my teeth and attempt to maintain some sort of dignity.
     "I imagine you are. Does this strap feel good?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice.
     "No sir," I whimper. "It hurts!" The tears start to roll down my cheeks.
     You are keeping a steady pace, covering my whole bottom and occasionally the tops of my thighs with firm swats. "Well good, it's supposed to. Are you learning anything?"
     "Yes!" I cry out, frustrated. I just want to block everything out...disappear into my mind. Then, it won't hurt so much. I don't want to have to answer questions, focus on the present, on my burning bottom.
     "Yes what?" you ask, giving me a particularly hard swat across my sit spot.
     "Yes sir!"
     "I hope so. Because for each time you tell me no this week, you will get 10 hard swats with the paddle. Do you understand, little girl?" you ask sternly.

     I am overcome with sobs. "Yes sir! Please, please..." I am becoming frantic, starting to wonder if this spanking will ever end. I start squirming wildly now, overwhemled with the pain. "I won't tell you no anymore! I wooooonnntttt."

     You give me three fast whacks, then stop. Your hands are rubbing my sore, throbbing bottom gently, but it still makes me jump. "I hope you won't. This is just a reminder, so you'll think of this each time you want to tell me no. I don't want to have to punish you for disobedience." Your voice is warm, but I know that you're not bluffing.
     "Me either, sir. I'll be good!"
     Rubbing the small of my back you whisper, "That's my good girl. You've got ten more on each and we'll be all done."
     I almost wail 'No,' and stop myself. What are you, stupid? After a deep breath, I say, "Yes sir," and try to relax my body.

     You deliver the last twenty strokes right-left, right-left and once they are finished, you reach forward and tenderly remove my blindfold and the tape around my wrists. "Good girl, shhh it's okay," You smooth your hand over my hair and tell me to stay put. You bring the strap and blindfold back to the drawer and return with cooling lotion for my bum. Kindly, you rub it in for me, whispering comforting words in my ear.

     I melt into the liberator as you do, completely rid of all the stress from the week, totally relaxed and at peace.

     Once you finish rubbing my bottom, you gather me into your arms and hold me for a long time. 

     This is my favorite moment. I love being held in your strong arms, against your warm, safe body after a thorough spanking. Your tenderness is so powerful in the moments after you've disciplined me. I press myself harder against you, as if I could become a part of you, the skin between us practically non-existent.

     "Thank you," I whisper, totally awash in joy. "Thank you for loving me so much."








ps. this story is not true .. I just wanted to write it in first person :)