So how did the first time happen? How on Earth did my wife start spanking me? It was a while ago, but crystal clear in my memory. I only talked with Pam the other night about it and suggested maybe she was programmed for it too, but she claimed she should could just read my mind. I'm sceptical. She's too good, too natural. Maybe a little of both is the truth?
It started when my girlfriend Pam and I and been going out for about six months. We were living together in a small unit. I'm a couple of years older than my girlfriend, who had just started University and was just nineteen. Pam is tall, blond, and extremely attractive, and though physically quite strong, you'd never have called her domineering. She was normal girl, way smarter than most, but a normal teen who liked to party.
The night started with the two of us at a local nightclub, waiting for our friends M and his girlfriend C to turn up. This was near the end of our nightclubbing phase. I'd met Pam through clubbing, but once you have a girlfriend, what's the point of going to clubs? You can't exactly dance with the pretty girls, and for a young guy, the drinks were damn expensive compared to a bottle of Vodka from the local bottle shop.
We'd barely been at the club for five minutes and I was in a filthy mood. M's girlfriend C wasn't exactly my cup of tea and I really just didn't want to be there. Pam said something to me; I don't recall exactly what, but I replied in a particularly insensitive way.
She looked at me, clearly hurt. But I just compounded it by shrugging it off, "like whatever!". Pam is not one to yell or make a scene. She simply turned on her heel and stormed out.
I stewed, justifying my behaviour in my head, shaking my head at her "over reaction".
Soon M and C turned up. "Hey, what's wrong with Pam?" C asked. "We passed her on our way and she looked majorly pissed off."
I shrugged it off. "Nothing much. She'll come round."
"Not too sure about that. She said she was going home."
Uh oh. Not good. Immediately I knew she wouldn't be back. While trying to work out what to do, I downed a few vodka and cokes. I tried to act like nothing had happened, but it just wasn't the same without Pam there. The opportunity appeared when a couple of other people we knew turned up.
"Hey, just going to duck off to see if Pam is OK?" I whispered over the thump-thump of the bass into C's ear. She smiled and nodded knowingly.
***
On the way home I knew I was in the shit. It wasn't like me to act like that and I really didn't know why I had. For some reason a fantasy I'd had since I was about ten years old popped into my head: what if she punished me? What if she spanked me? Since before I hit puberty I had fantasised there was a conveyor belt under all the houses in our street. If you were naughty, you'd be put on the conveyor belt and random women who lived in the street could take you over their knee and spank you. You might get spanked only once, or many times. My parents didn't spank, so this was all my fantasy, and it began before I knew anything about sex.
When I arrived back at our unit, my heart was racing. I couldn't really ask her to spank me, could I? She might think it was weird? Or she might do it? Which was worse? And would she even talk to me?
The unit was dark and quiet. I went upstairs to our bedroom and found Pam was lying face up in bed, still as a statue. I changed into bed clothes and laid down beside her.
"Are you mad?" I whispered.
"Yes." Stone cold.
Perhaps it was the three vodkas peaking in my bloodstream, perhaps it was my deep need for atonement, perhaps it was just time?
I rolled over, lying on top of her, just looking down at her. She kept staring at the windows and did not make eye contact. Even in the dark I could see she had been crying.
"You're really mad, aren't you?"
"Yes."
I paused. This was it - now or never. "Have I been naughty?"
"Yes." Still stone cold, monosyllabic.
"What happens to naughty boys?"
Instantly she met my gaze. "They get spanked."
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. "How do they get spanked?"
"Hard."
She was staring intently at me now, curious, but with purpose.
"Would you like to spank me?
"Yes."
I was in a daze. I couldn't believe it. She had answered just like in some of those spanking stories I'd read on the early Internet. I was shaking.
What next? I'd never actually been spanked. "Should I lie over your lap?"
"Do it now," she replied, the first hint of assertiveness.
Pam sat up and I shuffled over to her side.
"Take your pants down."
I slid my boxers down and lay bare bottomed over her lap.
Her hand came down at once, and again. That first spanking, though not as long as I am spanked today, was firm and thorough. She did not talk, she spanked. I squirmed, but there was no avoiding her discipline. Scolding and firmer measures would come later, but Pam was a natural.
Finally, she was done. "Get up."
I crawled off her lap, rubbing my stinging bottom. We laid down together; she looked me in the eyes, seeing if I was OK. I hugged her.
"Sorry," I said. "Really sorry." And I was, more genuinely sorry than ever before in my life. Gratitude swept over me. I'd craved this feeling for so long. Atonement via a sore bottom. I hugged her tight, then kissed her. We made love.
***
Next morning we woke late. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains. We slowly roused, Pam spooned behind me. I rolled over on my back. We made small talk, what we were going to do today.
Then Pam met my gaze. "Do you remember what happened last night?"
"Yes," I replied, feeling colour rise in my face. "Did it make you feel better?"
"Yes it did."
"So you're not upset anymore?"
"Still a little, to be honest."
"Then you should do it again."
"Nah, it's OK. I'll be fine."
"I'm serious."
"My hand got sore. I couldn't give you as much as you deserved."
"Really? I could get my hairbrush if you want? I don't want you still to be mad."
She looked at me curiously. "Go get it now."
I scampered off to the bathroom. My brush was fairly small, but made of a strange blue plastic - hard and unforgiving. I would soon learn it was a nasty thing to be spanked with, worse than a wooden hairbrush. But I deserved this spanking and in hindsight I'm glad Pam got such an effective little brush as her first implement. It set the tone for the lessons to come.
When I returned to the bedroom, Pam was sitting up, legs out. She patted her thigh then held out her hand. After handing over the brush and slipping my boxers off, I climbed over her waiting lap.
This was a second spanking to remember. Firstly, I received a hand spanking like the night before, followed by a lengthy hairbrushing. The hard plastic struck a small area and felt like a thousand bee stings on one spot. Soon I was begging and pleading, but Pam kept spanking. Her anger of the night before flowed, turning my bottom a deep red. I would feel this lesson for days to come.
When it was over we hugged. I felt the same closeness as the night before.
"Are you still angry?" I asked - this time hopeful she would say no. Though I would have gone back over her lap if she demanded, my bottom burned.
"Is your bottom sore?"
"Very sore."
She smiled. "I'm good now. You really deserved that."
"I know. Thank you."
We laid down, her head on my chest again, stroking me lightly with her hand. After a while, she asked, "You like it, don't you?"
How did I answer that? How did I express that it burned beyond anything I had felt before, that it made me feel genuinely sorry and close to her, but that at some deep level, I did like it. I had been almost in tears, but my erection whilst over her lap showed that on some level it was erotic too.
"It hurt a lot... but yeah; I guess."
There was silence while that sank in, for both us.
"You should do it whenever I deserve it," I offered.
She smiled. "I will," she said, then laughed. "You're going to have a sore bum."
