Sunday, December 6


We'd had a long and relatively harsh day of play. By the time evening fell bottoms were sore and tender, welts still clearly visible, early bruises beginning to rise. Tops were tired from their exertions and a lovely peace prevailed.

As the time to retire neared, bedtime spankings were decreed. Not a concern usually, I like such spankings, love to go to bed with a hot and sore bottom, especially when cuddles are on offer.

But this wasn't just to be a nice OTK spanking. No we had to face our own individual nemeses. For me that's HH's heavy size 10 plimsoll slipper. An implement that terrifies me. I cannot be brave for it, cannot be stoic and always reduced to tears after only a few strokes.

Jeans and knickers down I bent over the arm of the sofa and presented my already sore bottom to HH. Dread building I tried to brace myself. He fussed over my positioning until he felt his target was properly placed. Abel sat on the sofa and took my hands, holding me tight. The first stroke slammed down, HH's full weight behind it. A scream from me as the force of it pushed me up and over the sofa arm.

The familiar sickness descended as I thought in terror of 5 more to go from him and then 6 from Abel and as number 2 hit home I burst into tears. Pain exploding again. Struggled to get back into position for each of the remaining 4.

The slipper is truly my nemesis. It makes me wish I wasn't kinky, so terrified waiting for each stroke to land and feeling such relief when it's over.

As I sagged from HH's 6 my respite was short lived, Abel took up the slipper, this time HH holding me down. 6 more in quick succession, all horrendously painful. Sobbing throughout and cathartic relief when it was done.

All the time Catherine had been silently watching. Her turn now, and her own nemesis, the dressage whip. Over the sofa she went as I held her hands and tried to provided comfort as the whip was sliced into her bottom and thighs. First Abel then HH. Her cries were both distressing and captivating. Not for the first time I felt huge admiration for her bravery and strength.

We had face our nemeses and survived. Time for bed right?

Except Cath popped upstairs and returned with the Malacca style walking stick, curiosity permeating from her. My face dropped when I saw her with it. Silly, silly girl!

Over she went again, and the Malacca walking stick was viciously applied to her bottom, Abel and HH alternating in batteries of 12. I held her tight, for the first time observing an obvious struggle to take a punishment, but she held on taking at least 24.

Then my turn, just 12 but how painful. The knobbly bits of the stick cut into my flesh, tender as it was already. Tears came again easily as I tried to be brave.

Then Cath's turn again, 4 sets of 12 strokes in quick succession from each top. Watched in fascination as she struggled to take each set, cried out loud, moved out of position but still took them again and again until she was pleading and promising to behave. Empathised as she collapsed on the chair afterwards composing herself, her breathing ragged, and then grinned back at her as she raised her head her eyes glinting merrily at me. Laughed aloud as asked for another 2 strokes to make the round 50.

Was I done? Was she done? We had faced our nemesis and discovered another one to think about. Surely we were done. But the adrenalin was coursing and the tops took their cue from us.

One more time for me, the walking stick and the slipper until I caved and promised to behave. Held out for the first 12, stubbornly refusing to say it, even as I sobbed through each stroke, comforted and reassured by Cath holding me. As the last 6 started my resolve broke, time to give in, to promise to behave. Enough.

And the last time for Cath, slipper this time, slammed into her full force first by Abel and then HH. Until they called time, as sensible tops do, even though we may have felt we could have take a more our bottoms were welted and bruised enough.

And slept all night on my tummy, subdued and sated. Beaten, but not beaten, ready to fight another day with my nemesis.


Paul said...

EmmaJane, you are something else, they are making bottoms of sterner stuff then they used to.
This is such a revealing post.
Warm hugs,

Graham said...

Sweet christ. I think this post just cured my somebody-please-beat-me-now sickness. I'm gonna hide out here safe with my cabbage and tea and leave the plimsolls and walking sticks to you guys!

catherine said...

LOL that was a fun night. Sore, but such fun. I still have the marks a week later, which is really rare - and well done Emma Jane, you were so brave :)