The Wall Punishment

 I ran across this photo recently and it brought back strong memories. You'd think this position is not a big deal just looking at it, but nope-- it is a miserable stress position.

The poor girl pictured here is undergoing a disciplinary punishment position that I'm familiar with. It's more diabolical than it looks.  I've been placed in this position a number of times by my ex-husband, some years back, as a form of discipline.

So let's go over this position, starting at the bottom and the legs.

Put the victim (me, is the way I look at it because I am remembering the time when this happened to me) on her (my) knees facing the wall. The position of the knees is important, because the closer to the wall, the easier it is. Conversely, the further from the wall, the more difficult and stressful the position. My ex would usually put my knees a couple of feet from the wall, which was difficult.

Believe it or not this poor girl's knees are far enough from the wall it's going to be an uncomfortable strain, quickly.

Second and quite important-- notice her feet and toes are off the floor. This is the key part of the position, making it truly torturous.  My ex would require my feet and toes to be off the floor, and every time I would touch the floor I'd earn a cane stroker on my buttocks, later.

A major part of the victim's weight is on the knees, as you might imagine. This isn't too bad initially, but as is the case with any stress position, it becomes painful quickly. When I'd be in this wall position my knees would start hurting within 30 seconds. Enough to make me whimper, if I let myself.

Keeping the feet off the floor is not natural, and you have to strain to keep them up, causing muscle tiredness rather quickly. I remember it was almost impossible for me to keep my feet off the floor from the moment I got in the position, and had to constantly work at it.

With the knees away from the wall and the feet up off the floor, a big part of my weight would end up pressing on my forehead. It doesn't look like it from the photo, but it feels like a huge amount of weight is pressing on the forehead.

The weight and pressure on the forehead isn't horrible, but something that isn't obvious at all is the strain on the neck. If a big chunk of weight is on the forehead, that weight is also being supported by the neck.

Believe it or not, this was the worst part of the punishment. My neck would be straining, tense, supporting pressure, and I'd be concentrating on keeping my feet up, and the strain of these two locations would be miserable, rapidly building and causing cramping and pain as the muscles in my legs and neck began getting weak from constant exertion. 

The rules of the position state that I have to keep my hands (arms) behind my back, which makes sense because I shouldn't be able to use them to support me. The whole point behind this torture position is to cause increasing strain and cramping in the neck and legs-- supporting with the hands and arms would contradict that.

When my ex would put me in this position, I'd usually ask that he handcuff me, which just guaranteed I wouldn't accidentally bring my hands forward to push against the wall or floor. Which I would get some more cane strokes for, so I tried not to do that too.

I couldn't maintain this position for long. You'd think it would be easy-- nope. It was a fucking miserable, painful position, and any deviation from the proper posture would earn me cane strokes later. I remember actually crying, tears running down my cheeks, when in this position. I begged him to let me go.

I usually spent about five minutes in this position, though I know I've spent as much as fifteen or twenty.

Part of the discipline and punishment was having my buttocks exposed while in this position. Notice the girl in the photo has her panties pulled down. That was true of me, as well. If I was wearing pants, they'd be pulled down my thighs. If wearing a dress, my skirt would be pulled up and panties pulled to my knees. And yes, my ex would take advantage by fondling my ass, spreading the cheeks and fingering my asshole and perhaps reaching to my vagina. This made the whole thing humiliating, too.

When in this position, I'd always have failures, usually my toes touching the floor. Each touch earned a stroke. My ex never gave me the strokes when I was in the position because he'd want me to concentrate on doing the disciplinary position properly for as long as possible. 

After my time in the position was up, I'd always have at least one or two cane strokes coming, sometimes as many as ten or fifteen. Cane strokes hurt like hell, my the way. 

When he would finally release me from the position I'd collapse on the floor and recover for a minute or two, beg his forgiveness for whatever transgression I'd committed that had earned me time against the wall, and then move over to the bed or table (my panties still around my knees) and bend over for my strokes.

Yeah, cane strokes hurt like hell, and leave nasty welts. On a good day I'd get two or three. On a bad day, like I said... fifteen. More tears.

I always thought he rather liked it when I cried.

I will clarify something-- the wall punishment is a disciplinary technique, it doesn't actually fit well with my bondage kink. It was my ex's kink. As a result, I haven't been in this position in years.

New Years Day

I woke slowly. My body was so relaxed, so comfortable. The covers were warm, toasty in an idyllic way.

No work today. Just a holiday.

My girlfriend was in the bed next to me, sleeping. It was about 8:00 in the morning, we were being lazy. The night before had been a very quiet New Year's Eve and we'd gone to bed after drinking some champagne.

My girlfriend rolled over, scooting closer. She was awake too and she spooned me. I am the taller one, but it feels so good to have her spoon me, to feel her naked body next to mine. She was warm and soft and the feeling of comfort and love was perfect.

Her hand rested on my hip. Her face was in my hair, breathing warmth onto my neck. I had been thinking about getting up, but now? No. No way. I wanted this.

Her hand moved. Stroked my hip, my waist. I sighed.

Her hand slipped further over my hip, to the front.

Oh. 

Oh, my. Is she...

Yes. Yes she is.

Her fingers crawled down between my legs, pulling the hand along, reaching further, trying to find my soft and sensitive spots. I sighed again, a little harder this time.

When she found my clit I let out a little moan. Or was it a grunt. A grunting-moan. 

Her hand needed a bit more room. I shifted slighting, moving my top leg (the right one) out just a bit, making access a little easier.

Her fingers stroked me slowly. Once she found my clit she avoided it; instead she stroked, gently touching, all around it. Sliding down, playing with my lips, spreading them, stroking the outer folds with her finger tips.

She knows exactly how to get me going. I was getting wet very quickly.

Another moan, and I gave up pretending, I lifted my leg up and put it back slightly so it rested on her leg. This gave her complete access to me. 

She took it, moving her body in tighter to mine, her breasts pressing up against my shoulder blades, her arm stretched around my waist and down between my legs, her fingers spreading my pussy lips, and a finger went inside.

Oh, Oh my god. The finger slipped up inside me and I couldn't help it, my hips moved a little, encouraging it, trying to get my clit to rub on her hand.

She had mercy on me, and began to rub the sides of my clit, one finger on each side, sliding up and down. On the deep slides, two fingers would go over and then slide inside. 

I reached back, I wanted to kiss her, to engage, but she wouldn't have it. She was fingering me, masturbating me, I was to remain passive, accept it. That was clear. I relaxed and let her do her work. sliding over my now throbbing clit, at times plunging into my pussy, fulfilling my need to be penetrated.

Her fingers were expert and played me like an instrument. Before long my hips were moving in perfect rhythm with her movements, the stimulation was building the feelings inside me, and my breathing was coming hard and faster.

The orgasm surged and flooded my body. She was kissing my ear, my neck, fingering me, and I was at her mercy. The pleasure spiked, peaked and I made a little mewling noise as the warmth flooded my body.

She could tell, it was pretty obvious when I came, and she kept up the stimulation, the stroking, until the orgasm began to fade. Then she slowed, backing away from my clit, moving to caressing, fondling, bringing me down easily. 

I lay exhausted, and she brough her fingers up to my lips.

I sucked them, tasting myself on them. 

We lay there like that for a while, and eventually I dozed.

It was the best start to the New Year I could have imagined.