It was a lot of fun getting J. for a play date on Friday night, vs. the quick scenes we’ve had up till now at parties. We met at La Nacional Tapas Bar on 14th St. beforehand (very good food, and not crowded — I’d go back), split four different tapas and spent some time talking about life, work, relationships and such, before wandering over to Paddles. We wanted to do a little shopping at Purple Passion, but discovered this store (on 20th between 7th and 8th) is now closing earlier. People aren’t shopping as much in this economy; everyone’s hurting (it’s a great fetish store, though, and it’s run by people in the community — check it out next time you need a new toy.).
It was getting close to 9 at that point and Paddles opened at 9, so J and I moved on.
Upstairs in the loft, there’s a long padded bench that’s perfect for making a sub bend over, stretch his arms to the other side and hang on. We commandeered that area, but I had promised him a good OTK session first, so I pulled out a straight-backed chair, had him lower his pants and get over my lap.
I was in the mood for giving him an extra long hand spanking. I’d played some handball at lunch and felt energetic and strong. I gave him a VERY short warm-up over his briefs, then the underwear came down. I spanked him for a while, not paying attention to the time, just watching his reactions.
I thought to myself, I want to give him 500 good smacks to finish off the hand session.
He took it, of course, but started to squirm near the end. For the last 100, I spanked him as hard as I could for each smack. Mmmm. Nice moans and wriggles and gasps.
Then it was time for J. to get over the bench for a strapping. I strapped him for a while with a medium intensity strap from my bag. But J. had a few toys of his own, and he asked me to switch it up to this very thick, leather strap-like item that he’d purchased at a tack shop. I have a similar doohickey in my toy bag, but it’s not quite as heavy.
“All right, J. You must have really earned this, if you’re asking for it,” I said.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he murmured. Oh, he was getting into subspace…
“Well, then — let’s begin.”
I gave him 100 with the tack shop strap. Oh, no, he still needed more. I started with another of my own straps, but could see that wasn’t effective enough, so I pulled out my London Tanner‘s tawse.
I think I gave him 100 with that. I know from personal experience how nasty that tawse is. But he seemed to just be soaring from the pain… floating… and I was feeding off his energy..
We took a break. I was very thirsty. DomSubFriends was hosting a party Friday night and there was a spread of food in the back room. SOMEONE was looking out for those of us watching our diets — instead of the usual pastries and heavy fatty foods, there was a ton of fresh fruit, grapes and cut-up watermelon, plus individual cups of Greek yogurt, so we indulged in a guilt-free dessert, had some water, caught our breath a bit.
And then we found another play area to continue our session. Unquestionably, he still needed more. At this point I was interspersing hard hand spanks with various toys.
J. KNEW he was going to be paddled before we were finished, so at last I pulled out my hardwood “frat paddle” (Kitty’s Exotic Paddles), and began that phase of his discipline.
He amazes me with his pain tolerance. (It makes me want to give him more and more, a vicious cycle…) He took FIFTY with that freaking paddle. There were moments where he jerked his head up off the bench and gasped in pain. But he did not break his position otherwise.
At 50, I paused and said, “Get up, J.” He did as told, and I pointed at his bag. “Go hand me one of YOUR paddles.”
He selected two and held them out to me. One looked like a very hard wood and was longer; the other looked painful but not quite as punishing. “Well, which will it be, J?” I said.
He handed me the harder, longer one. I was impressed. “All right. Let’s go. Back over.”
I stepped in close to him, placed a hand on his back, and began the last phase of his punishment. While I kept my left hand on his back, or occasionally on his neck, shoulders, or the back of his head, my right hand continued his paddling. He grabbed my leg, which is something he does when he starts to feel the pain. And I swung the paddle another 50 times against his bare bottom. I loved hearing him moan.
At the end, I leaned over toward his ear and whispered, “Have you been punished, J?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” he said. I looked at him and I thought, yes, he’d had enough. … for one night.
During our cool-down/aftercare period, I told him that I’d be screaming bloody murder if someone were paddling me that long and that hard. He smiled blissfully. I think he was high. I had my own sort of high going.