You just can’t find good help anymore.
spanking
Ivy’s First Trip to a Dungeon, Part Three
Craftsmate had purchased two new items to bring along to the dungeon earlier that week: a black spandex hood with holes for the eyes and another for the nose and mouth and a rubber gag with a cock-like protrusion that got shoved in my mouth. The former was because I had expressed that I was worried about people seeing my face while I did stuff and being ashamed about it, in addition to the fact that I may have a teensy tiny fascination with hoods. The latter was Craftsmate’s idea of a fun surprise which made me blush all kinds of red.
In a matter of moments, I was wearing both of them, in addition to my blindfold. Between the way my head was basically completely encased and the blaring music of the club, I was terribly disoriented. My head was indescribably swimmy and I could barely process what was going on when Craftsmate rolled my skirt up and tucked it into the waistband of my stockings.
He started to spank me. Through the confines of the hood and the bass of the music, I could hear people talking. My cheeks burned and I only blushed deeper when I realized the wetness on my chin was my own drool soaking into the material of the hood.
I moaned lowly around the rubber cock in my mouth when Craftsmate shoved my vibrator down the front of my stockings and turned it on. He alternated between spanking me and adjusting the vibrator from low to high to off, driving me near insane before he pushed me up against the wall.
“Do you like this?” He asked as he adjusted the restraints so my arms were linked together above my head. I nodded and moaned. “Do you feel out of control?” I nodded once more and felt him step away.
For a moment, I was concerned he had actually just left me there and swung my leg out behind me to locate him. He laughed when I tapped his shin.
“Aww, sweetheart,” I could hear him smirking. “Did you think I left you here for somebody to find?” He pulled my blouse out of my skirt and hiked it up. My bra followed and I was grateful to be facing the wall and unable to see if anyone was looking. At first, I wasn’t sure what the sting on my nipples was, but once he started yanking the chain I realized it was the clamps.
He turned the vibrator back on and started spanking me once more. With my arms tied together, I found I could now turn to face him – although I could not see him – and attempt to protect my stinging ass. He would simply grab me by the hips and turn me back around, but as the whole situation sunk in more and more, I found myself stumbling and pacing. I felt like I was floating above myself and the only thing keeping me anchored to the situation was the stinging pain in my ass and nipples and the buzz of the vibrator.
Eventually, Craftsmate turned me to face him, removed the gag and checked in with me. “Do you want to go find a couch for a bit? You did a very good job.”
“No, no,” I replied, panting, “no, I want to keep going. I don’t want this to end yet. Is…is that okay?”
Craftsmate popped the gag back in and turned me back around.
Punishing Ashley Katchadourian for not watching the bathroom door 😉
Oh my god, you are not a real person. This has gone too far.
You’re Cuba Gooding Jr., disappointing everybody.
Last night, Craftsmate spanked me two hundred times over his knee on my couch.
There’s something about getting spanked on your own couch.
I know it was two hundred swats because he had me count and thank him for each one. Which got difficult when he would deliver a few hard ones in a row and I would have to quickly account for the ones I had not had time to count right away. And sometimes it hurt so much that I could barely get myself to speak.
But, I’ve been trying to build my tolerance to this kind of stuff. Usually, I just throw out my safeword and then realize a few moments later that I could have taken much more. Because Craftsmate respects my safeword and my boundaries, he’s not going to push it. So, it was up to me to push myself this time and see if I could actually make it up that high.
Originally, he stopped at one hundred. I was already sore, but I asked him to keep going. And then the same at one hundred and fifty.
By the time he reached two hundred, I was clinging onto his leg and gritting my teeth. But I was proud of myself and caught myself smiling when he had me look at how red my ass was in the mirror.
This is the lesson I learned today.
Of all the things she could be left with…
a stinging rear, the cuffs still locked on, a gag still in place, the smear of makeup on her cheek
…her own lingering thoughts that were always the strangest companions.
“We’re either doing it now in the back or later in front of your friends.”
I pouted. I dragged my feet. I whined softly enough that people wouldn’t hear.
Away from my friends, Craftsmate sat down and patted his lap. I shook my head and tried not to grin when he pulled me over his knee and hiked my dress up.
“You’re going to count, all the way up to twenty-two,” he said and his hand collided with my ass.
I could hear my friends laughing a little ways away and hoped no one would hear the noise and wander inside. I grabbed onto the chair and gasped, attempting to keep my voice low.
“One.”
Twenty-two and in need of a spanking.
Which makes my birthday different from every other day in this past year solely on the basis that I’m now twenty-two.
That other part’s pretty constant.
A little red bum and some flushed cheeks would definitely match the ensemble.
Just saying.
I always think I am getting spanked hard enough for it to leave marks and have it hurt for days. So, I start to get excited about the idea of having to cover up the marks on my thighs when I go to the gym or having to try to hold in a wince when I sit down to dinner with my friends. And it sounds all blushy when the deliverer of the spanking says I’ll think of them whenever I feel the sting throughout the week.
But I’m honestly just a wuss and I never let it get that harsh. It’s all gone in an hour, usually. If not less.
Good lord, but this offends my sense of symmetry. Which, of course, as punishments go, makes it perfect.A Bad Girl, photographed by Me.