From the Sarah Saga
Sarah came home to find Brian seated on the sofa, already in spanking position.
“You think you’re clever do you?” he asked, hefting the copy book she had left for him. His half-smirk told her that, despite his words, he appreciated the humour in her essay. After all the messages he’d sent scolding her about putting glitter in his bag, she’d used her “punishment” assignment as an opportunity to educate him on just how much worse it could have been if she really had used glitter instead of confetti. The writing had been quite fun, detailing examples of how both substances might be used to “bring light and joy to the otherwise humourless lives of uber-serious tops.”
“Not clever, exactly, but I can look up definitions,” Sarah retorted playfully.
“Oooh missy, you will pay, and pay dearly for this,” Brian scolded playfully as he reached for her hand, toppling her over his knee.
“Already?” Sarah asked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea or something first? Help you settle in?” Brian interrupted her with a firm smack. “Or how about a nice chat about the weather? Sure was rainy today,” Sarah continued gamely.
“Keep stirring,” Brian scolded with a barely concealed giggle. “I have a spoon somewhere here which might help.” Sarah grunted in reply as he treated her to a harder swat. She decided to remain quiet for a bit- perhaps she had bitten off enough for one visit.
She had given him plenty of ammunition, she reflected as he warmed her bottom thoroughly. She’d already given him enough to go on by hiding his implements and scattering confetti in his bag as he left the last time. Both had been great fun, and well-received, but would have given him all the excuse he needed to give her the “funishment” they had agreed on.
But that was nearly a month ago, and the intervening period had given her plenty of time for playful texting, not to mention a bit of in-person bratting- aided and abetted by her new sub sisters- at a handful of munches. All things considered, she was more than in for it.
She was thrilled, and, judging by the vigour with which he spanked and tsked, so was Brian.
“Up,” he ordered when he decided she had been suitably prepared for the next phase.
Sarah stood, and watched as he retrieved a flexible black strap from his bag.
“Hands that touch implements without permission get punished,” he scolded, his expression fully stern.
Sarah meekly held out her hand, his demeanour helping her accept the punishment as a punishment, to achieve the frame of mind needed to bear the pain, to use it well.
The strap bit into her palm and she winced. It returned twice more before he ordered the other hand up. She gave him a brief pleading look, rubbing the punished hand before offering the other for the same treatment.
It had been ages since she had been punished in this way, but it still held the fascination that it did the first time. There was something very special about being able to face one’s spanker as the punishment was meted out.
“Let that be a lesson to you,” Brian scolded when the sixth stroke was delivered. “Into the corner, then we’ll address your cheekiness.”
Sarah stood, facing the wall as directed, and gently rubbing her throbbing palms against her hair. The sting helped keep her focus, helped her pretend that she had earned this, pretend that she was being punished.
“Come back over here,” Brian ordered. As she turned, she saw that he had the new paddle in his hand, the small, thick one from the pictures. She balked for a moment; this would hurt, hurt more than a playful punishment would call for, perhaps. Then again, she reassured herself, this was Brian. He knew what he was doing, he would make sure it wasn’t harsher than she could handle.
She draped herself over his knee again, trembling ever so slightly.
“You missy,” he scolded as he gave her a solid swat, “need to learn not to make cheeky remarks. Cheeky remarks will mark your cheeks,” he continued. Sarah winced at the pun, the silliness drawing her away from the punishment headspace, the pain pushing her towards it. The conflict was difficult to handle, but the pain ultimately won.
“Six more,” he announced, and Sarah had never heard words more welcome. The last six swats were hellish, and Sarah hoped they would at least leave bruises- something mildly painful to remind her of the experience. She missed bruises- they were hard-earned these days, but this felt like it might have been sufficient.
“Stand up,” Brian ordered. Sarah went to pull up her panties but was rebuked. “I’m not finished with you just yet. Kneel on the sofa.”
Sarah complied, wondering how much more she could take. Brian turned to his bag again, and she felt her heart sink. She’d been hoping for the belt, the sting that never seemed to be too much, the pain that was always welcome. The implement that came with the built-in anticipation as he removed it from his trousers, doubled it and snapped it tight.
Instead, when he turned back to her, he had a stout ruler in his hands.
“You need to learn that your actions have consequences.”
Sarah tried to formulate a smart reply, this was play after all, but couldn’t entertain the two ideas at once. Her mind was not in the place from which playful banter came. Instead, she lowered herself mutely onto the sofa and braced for the coming punishment.
The ruler hit, harshly, and Sarah bit back a cry. She wanted to tell him to stop, that this was too much, that she couldn’t take this. But she didn’t. The ruler struck again, and pushed her over the edge. Her squeals became sobs, though she kept her bottom up, ready to receive the next stroke, accepting the pain that she was being given. The punishment was for play, for nothing, yet that didn’t decrease its potency, didn’t make it any less effective.
Sarah sobbed harder as the punishment continued, allowing herself to slip into a deeper submission than she had yet experienced. As she came back to herself, she felt a bit of panic. This wasn’t what they had discussed, she’d given Brian no warning that she might react this way, might fall this deeply.
But he was right there with her, stroking her back, murmuring comforts as she became still. He didn’t rush her, didn’t make any cheery or playful remarks. For once he was quiet, allowing her this blissful time to savour her submission before returning to her playful self.
When she sat up, he folded her into a hug, a more welcome gesture than any she’d yet experienced.
“Thank you,” she told him, meaning the words deeply, sincerely.
“You are most welcome,” he replied. “Though I hope that didn’t teach you too much, I do so enjoy our banter.”
Sarah allowed herself to laugh along with him as she wiped away the last of her tears.