Punishment is not a pleasure because it comes from my own failure. It is the consequence of my own obstinacy, self-centeredness, thoughtlessness, or lack of strength. Thus, when Jason punishes me, it is much more painful in my mind than any play or pain that we engage in for his pleasure. It is humiliating to me to be punished and that pain is worse than anything.
Jason had instructed that dinner was to be ready at 6:30 each evening. That day was difficult at work. Corporate headquarters was really getting on our case about security issues, and we had a meeting with a vendor to discuss wireless intrusion prevention systems that ran over its allotted time. Traffic was bad. I got home late, and when I got home I simply didn't follow through and get dinner prepared.
It is such a simple thing. Dinner. I could have whipped together Mac and Cheese with a side of vegies, but I let it slide. Jason came home at 7:00, and asked where dinner was. I panicked, and quickly made sandwiches, though we were out of good bread so I had to make them on hamburger buns. Some canned soup rounded out the meal, but all in all it was inadequate and late, and I knew it.
That evening, around 9:00, Jason turned to me and said quietly, "Siobhan, what happened with dinner tonight?"
The pang of panic ran through me again, and I said simply and truthfully, "I was tired, and late, and just didn't get it done. I am sorry. I will be better from now on."
Jason nodded thoughtfully. "All right. I understand. We all have slip ups from time to time. Present yourself for a spanking."
Tears came to my eyes, not because of the anticipated pain of a simple spanking, but because I was to be punished for failure, and that stung. I knew better than to protest, though. It could have been much worse, and at times it was.
I stood before Jason where he sat on the couch. I undid my jeans (Jason has allowed me to wear clothes in the house recently, which is a source of pride for me). Slipping them down around my ankles, I stepped out of them, picked them up and folded them neatly, putting them aside. I wore no panties underneath, as I did not yet have permission to wear underwear in Jason's presence. I had my top on, and socks, but was naked from the waist to my ankles.
Jason reached over to the side table where he keeps a few items and took out some handcuffs. I presented my wrists, and the cuffs snapped in place. The feeling of restraint was familiar, almost comfortable. I felt safe when I was restrained with Jason.
"Do you need your ankles restrained?" Jason asked.
I thought for a moment. The wrist restraints were to help me, as were ankle restraints. It is a natural reaction to try and cover and protect a part of your body when it is subjected to pain, and to struggle. Struggling during punishment inevitably prolongs the punishment and makes things worse. Thus, I welcome the restraints. However, I had been getting better at not fighting and submitting, and so I responded, "I want to try without ankle restraints, if that is OK with you, Jason. I think I can behave. I will do my best."
"Very well," Jason said. He took my hands and pulled me too him, and I followed his lead as he guided me to the couch where I first knelt and then slid over his lap. I am tall (not as tall as Jason, of course), and my body stretches the entire length of the sofa. My ankles stuck over one end, and cuffed wrists rested over the other end. My bare ass stuck up in the middle, where Jason's legs supported my waist and raised my buttocks higher.
I braced myself for the first stinging impact, but instead felt Jason caressing my ass cheeks. He was placing oil on them, liberally spreading the baby oil all around my ass and then down my thighs, and between my legs. I spread my legs slightly to allow him access (this was automatic for me, when Jason reaches to touch a part of my body I immediately make it accessible without thinking).
The oil made my flesh more pleasurable for Jason. He liked to see my skin glisten. I was glad he was taking pleasure in me and it made me feel a little better. At the same time, I knew the oil increased the sting of a spanking and clenched my teeth, waiting for the first impact that would come at any time without warning. I buried my face in the soft pillows of the couch.
Jason continued rubbing oil into my flesh, raising my top to expose my back and sides. My skin was slippery with the stuff, so when Jason's finger probed between my legs he slipped quickly and easily into my pussy and deep inside. I gasped at the unexpected intrusion and almost closed my legs, stopping myself just in time. I let him explore, probing deep inside me with first one and then two oiled fingers. He pressed up hard against the wall of my vagina, making me feel as if he were in my rectum as well; then he pressed down hard into my G spot, and I gasped again, feeling pleasure at his stimulation of my insides.
My ass rose almost involuntarily in response to his probing, my legs spreading slightly wider. It was at this point that he withdrew his hand and the palm raised high, and then descended onto my ass with an unexpected, stinging slap. I yelped, and my body shook at the pain. My feet went up instinctively but I caught myself and put them back down before Jason had to force them back in place.
Slaaappp... A second strike. The heat was already gathering on my skin as blood rushed to the surface. Slaapp! A third spank landed. The oil made each spank sting slightly more, but I was trained and didn't wriggle or kick. Instead I raised my ass slightly for Jason's easy access. I was proud of how I was good in submitting to him, even in punishment.
Slaaaaaap!! Another strike, this one harder. I jerked slightly, and bit the cloth of the sofa rather than squeal. Strangely, I felt Jason's penis under my stomach. He had an erection and it was pressing into my hips. It made me want him to take me, but I knew I had to take my punishment first. I was glad he was deriving pleasure from it, which helped diminish the pain I felt in my ass and in my mind from experiencing punishment for my own failure.
Slaaaaaaaaaapppp!!!! Each strike seemed to be worse. I know from experience - each strike builds on the last because the skin becomes more sensitive, inflamed and raw from previous impacts. My hands clutched the sofa as he continued alternating spanks with probes. The last few he pressed two fingers inside my pussy, his thumb well inside my ass, and his little finger extended out and rubbed my clit.
I didn't want the spanking to end. The pain had become pleasure, the pleasure merged with the pain, and I was groaning and grunting like an animal on his lap as he administered the punishment. It was the weirdest feeling to have the pain and pleasure merge so completely. It was getting to the point where I thought I might orgasm just from the stinging pain on my ass.
The spanking did end, but only when he lifted me up and turned me around so that I was sitting on his lap, facing away from him. He unzipped, produced his member, and slipped it with ease inside me. I leaned forward slightly to assure complete penetration and Jason proceeded to thrust deeply, his hands reaching up to my breasts. I rode him until I felt him explode inside of me, which didn't take long.
When he was finished, he took me in his arms, and cradled me. I felt complete, grateful for the spanking, grateful for the chance to submit and service my master and husband.