What a difference a week makes. Last sunday, we were at a BDSM munch and having a hard time getting anyone to notice us. My wife and I really put ourselves forward and we didn’t seem to break into any cliques. A friend of ours told us that this was expected because groups tend to fear new doms. He suggested that if we had anyone willing to play with us in public, we should do so, thereby letting the group know that we can play without killing someone.
Bleh. To get the approval of a group that snubs us, we have to put on a show? That seems like the premise of a very special lesson on Punky Brewster.
I told Sara about this and she laughed. “Okay, you and the Wife need to spank me. I know the best room.”
“Whoa!” I said. “We’re not spanking anyone in public. I have a hard enough time being in public much less playing.”
“It’s not so bad,” Sara said. “You get the right room in the dungeon, have me face the door and I’ll tilt my head down so my hair covers my face. Then you can turn your back to the door and spank my ass without ever seeing the people watching you.”
“I . . .will have to think about it,” I said.
Later that week was dungeon night with the same group. A demonstration was held called ‘Spanking 201’. The speaker said he was sick to death of attending spanking seminars that covered the same six basic things. He wanted to talk about the fun stuff and for one awesome hour he did. New positions, new terms and just a few simple improved techniques made for the most informative hour I’ve had in a long time. Some of the things were things I had been doing, but having them codified with the spanking seal of approval made me want to refresh my skills. I hadn’t spanked anyone since Wordslut came down to visit and that was a fucking shame.
After the demonstration, the crowd broke off and commandeered benches to play. Spanking was happening in a 360 view all around us. Men kept offering to spank Sara but she kept demurring. It took me an hour of spanking watching to realize that maybe she was saving her ass for me and my wife.
“I am not going to spank anyone tonight,” my wife said. “That’s just too public for such an intimate moment.”
I nodded wisely, wondering if she would think I was a dog for wanting to dive in.
“You should spank Sara though,” she added out of the blue. “She’ll think you’re dissing her.”
My wife, the compassionate heart.
“Oh, really?” I feigned surprise. “Hmmm.” I don’t suspect for a minute that my wife bought my disinterested act, but the key to a happy marriage is to know when you shouldn’t jump up and high five people.
The night went on. Spankings continued. I chatted for a bit with one of the spanking models for the demonstration. Actually I chatted with a lot more people than usual. I’m not sure if being around the group had made me more comfortable, or if just the topic of spanking had made me feel like I was in my element. I never considered myself a spanking expert or anything, but its something I love. As the night went on, it became inherently silly to me that I, Shon Richards, didn’t join the Spanking Nirvana that was going on.
Dungeons have a snack room where you can grab a drink and some sugar. It’s also the place the dungeon master politely suggested when we started laughing too hard in the main playroom. Me, my wife and some new friends were sitting around discussing Mormon underwear when Sara came in.
“Has the crowd died down?” I asked. I may be a spanking freak but I am still a guy with high social anxiety.
She smirked at me. “Why do you ask?”
“I was thinking . . .” I flirted.
One of our new friends got excited. “Oh great! This is a negotiation! We should all watch and learn.”
Of course at that point me and Sara couldn’t do anything but ham it up.
“I have an expired pizza gift card. Can I spank your ass?”
“Oh baby, you know what I like to hear.”
We wondered off to find a room, my wife explaining to the group that both me and Sara are shits.
We found an empty room but it didn’t have the bench we wanted. I picked one up in the main room and brought it in. It was strange moving furniture in a dungeon. Any other place you would worry about rearranging their room but this dungeon was cool with that. I did suffer a brief anxiety before I picked up the bench that maybe it would be too heavy but no, it was pretty light. I had been working out after all.
Sara and I had played in the past but we stopped playing as we became better friends and realized we wanted different things. As we became more platonic, we flirted more in some weird inverse proportion. I think its our way of saying, sure, you’re not what I want but that doesn’t mean you’re still very fuckable. That’s what friends do for one another.
She bent over the bench. She wore a long tight black dress. I didn’t pull it up. I didn’t need to; her ass was framed in tight black cloth. She swept her hair forward, hooding her face. it meant I couldn’t grab her hair like I wanted but hey, you improvise. I hooked two fingers in her dress straps, the threat of snapping her dress gave me the pseudo leash I needed.
It was up to me now. People gathered at the door and I turned my back to them. In computer gaming, there is a term calling ‘lowering your clip plane’. It’s where your weak computer has trouble processing graphics, so you reduce them. You can’t see as far, but the game runs more smoothly. That’s what I did. I reduced the room to just me, Sara and her sweet sweet ass.
I spanked the shit out of her. I tried a few of the things I had learned at the demonstration and did a lot of things I just missed doing. I grabbed her ass in between smacks. I made a few jokes to get her to laugh and unclench from the pain before I would wail on her again. I slapped her ass to the mental tune of one of Buddy Holly’s melodies. Sara was my friend but for a short beautiful time, she was my spanking toy.
I spanked her till my back got sore, till the palm of my hand was stinging and until sweat was pouring off my head. I spanked until I noticed my aim was getting worse. It was over too soon for me. I could tell I was getting too worn out and I was swearing to myself to do whatever exercise I needed that would let me bend over and whoop an ass for longer than an hour.
Throughout the spanking, I would lean down and ask Sara how she was doing. At first she would answer with ‘Okay,’ and sometimes with a butt wiggle. Halfway through i asked for a number and she gave me seven out of ten; which meant she felt good but could take more. At the end when I asked how she doing, she could only groan that sweet low moan that made the cramp in my back worth it. That was when I knew it was time to quit.
Afterwards we pulled her dress up and took a look. Pure scarlet. Man I miss the look of a well spanked ass.
My wife was standing at the door. I realized that she could have been there the whole time and I didn’t notice. She was smiling and I could see the nod of approval on her face. That was a good spanking. I felt prouder than I already did. Spousal approval is always a bonus.
We mingled back into the group of friends we had made and I was chugging water like I had just done a marathon. Sara sat down very slowly onto a chair and I took a gleeful pleasure in the wince on her face. The group was talking about nightcrawlers and I realized that I had just played in a public space for the first time in two years. I thought about my anxiety and how odd it was that I just did something a vast majority of my readers could never imagine doing. I felt really good about myself for the first time in a long time.
My hand hurt like a bitch though.