First Spanking Story

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First Spanking Story
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The spanking, that first one, was such a surprise. Her reason for giving me the spanking was because i hadn’t emptied the trash, but She had not asked me to empty it previously. In fact, She had cautioned me not to act too pussy whipped in front of Her Mom, who was staying with U/us. i always was told Her dominance was private and i needed to keep it that way. A s I indicated earlier, She was raised by parents that felt that marriage should be male led, so letting Her Mom see me doing chores would cause problems. Well, at least that’s what i thought.
The day of the GREAT BIG SPANKING, She came home from work an hour after me, since i started 5 hours earlier, and She seemed unhappy. Then Her Mom complained about the trash being full, even though i had asked her if she needed anything an hour earlier. Wife confronted me as soon as Mom walked away, and I tried to explain to Her how i wasn’t at fault. When She marched me upstairs for a spanking, i kept thinking that i could explain myself, that She wouldn’t really hit me, because i still believed i had a right to an opinion.
During the spanking, i couldn’t think of anything because it was hurting so much. She is smaller than me physically, but i was incapable of running away or resisting because i just didn’t have it in me to risk losing Her as my dominant. After it began hurting so much, even that didn’t matter. It was overpowering. i wanted it to stop really badly and was crying long before it was over, but it wasn’t over until She decided i had been properly punished.
Afterwards, i was made to hold a penny up against the wall with my nose. She still seemed mad and i was so afraid She was going to beat me again. While i held that penny up, my butt was screaming, She had used a long leather handled shoehorn and it seemed each hit had been on either my left or right upper thigh, in that crease right by my butt.
After it was over it felt a little like returning to consciousness, or waking up. The first thought i had was that this was what i had begged for, what i knew i wanted deep deep down, to have Wife take control over me. She had done it, and the consequences were that i now knew that my opinion was forever irrelevant. She knew that She could beat me and i was afraid of Her. That changed everything, the game was over, my masculinity was shattered. W/we both knew it and i felt profoundly different, deeply ashamed for my words earlier in the day that appeared as if i had a right to an opinion. At that point i realized that i didn’t ever want another punishment, that i had better never allow myself to think i knew what was correct for me until Wife confirmed it, that from now on my focus was to be as obedient and humble as i could be. Though my butt hurt, i was intoxicated by subspace, enthralled and terrified at the same time.
When She had rested about 30 minutes, i was told to crawl over to Her and kiss Her feet. Though my face was still wet with tears, i no longer tried to protest my innocence, instead i apologized for not knowing how wrong i had been and begged on my hands and knees for Her forgiveness. She did grudgingly tell me i was forgiven, then instructed me in what chore She wanted me to attend to while She relaxed with a glass of wine, which i gratefully went to go get for Her. Besides losing my manhood, i received Her approval for eagerly doing menial domestic tasks, and this gave me the insight into my proper role, a domesticated sissy.
Already i had taken on a majority of the chores. She still cooked and did meal planning and prep until W/we retired. Then those chores were handed over to me. Sometimes She would cook if She wanted to, but She expected me to have the ingredients and a plan for dinner, and when i made the mistake of thinking i could wing it and She didn’t find my preparation sufficient, I got a beating that trained me to understand such willful pride was not to be tolerated.
Eventually, She has come to accept that i am a sissy, and has been a wonderful guide and teacher for me as i learn to improve, putting me into a chastity device, setting strict standards for me, helping me learn to sew and improve my domesticity. She knows that i am trying my hardest to be of value to Her. i know She would be better served sexually if She would take a real man as a bull and W/we have discussed this, but for now She is uninterested. Still, She isn’t above teasing me about what will happen when She does take a bull, the demeaning things that will be required of me.
In November of 2013, Wife had lost all desire for intimacy. Her libido crashed, and returning to a more vanilla dynamic was the only path to return to health. No longer am i subjected to physical punishments, I can spend my allowance and make social commitments without getting prior approval, masturbate, and ask for intimacy now (though She has always had control of that and still does decide if W/we have sex).
Still, i do the majority of domestic chores, She still decides how i look, from facial hair to what i wear. If She gives me permission, I can wear panties out, at home She will let me cross dress but i feel ridiculous when i do. She lets me have an apron collection but won’t let me tell most of O/our visitors that it’s mine, She pretends it’s Hers, even though She thinks it’s embarrassing to have one. It would just be more embarrassing to Her if O/our friends and family knew it was mine. That is sad to me, i feel like i have to live in the closet, but She knows best.
it served you right. you really needed the spanking.had i been in your place i would have received more than just a spanking. SHE would have whipped me mercilessly and kept me naked out of the house for a full day. SHE has done it on many occasions for the slightest disobedience from me towards HER. i think you have been lucky to have been let of with just a spanking. now you know better.
The reason her libido has crashed is because you are no longer a man to her.
Turn on her, refuse her humiliations, give her a spanking, and watch her libido return in an instant.
Women crave male domination. No matter what they think otherwise.
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I’d like to tell you about the first two times I gave a spanking. The first time was when I was only 10 years old – it was definitely not allowed and I suspect that had I been found out, I would have ended up getting rather than giving the punishment.
I was at a sleepover birthday party with my two best friends, and we were playing truth or dare. I chose ‘truth’ and was asked what was the most trouble I had ever been in, and what was the punishment. I told the story, recounted in another of my contributions to this site , of how my brother and I went way out of our established bounds and had received a hard paddling for our misdeeds. Since I was ‘under oath’ in a truth or dare game, I even recounted how the paddling had made me so nervous that I’d wet myself, which sent my girlfriends into a fit of giggles. 
My friend Amanda then volunteered that her worst misdeed was taking some money from her mom’s purse. Her dad had ‘whipped my butt until it was redder than a tomato’, which expression set off another fit of giggling.
We both looked at Katie, the birthday girl, for her story. She confessed to getting caught at school cheating on a multiplication test, which resulted in her getting grounded for two nights. I thought this was a pretty lenient punishment. So did Amanda, who wasn’t shy about voicing that opinion. “I can’t believe your mom didn’t spank you for getting in trouble at school. The one time I got in trouble at school, my mom wore me out,” she said.
Katie disclosed that her parents had never spanked her ever, which came as a shock to both myself and Amanda. We let Katie know how lucky she was, and made it clear we didn’t think the situation was fair at all.
We returned to our game, and on Katie’s next turn she chose ‘dare’. Amanda said that since Katie had never been spanked before, she had to take a birthday spanking from both of us. She looked a little nervous but we reminded her what a serious transgression it was to break the rules of truth or dare – so she agreed.
I won ‘rock, paper, scissors’ to spank first. I told Katie to pull down her pants and underwear. She balked at this, but because the rules of sleepover truth or dare are sacrosanct, I soon had a bare bottom over my lap. 
Katie was bigger than me so it was a little awkward, but we made it work. I spanked her five times with no reaction from her, so I decided to crank it up a notch. From the sixth spank on, I hit her harder and she began to cry out. I gave her an extra hard one to ‘grow on’ and then a ‘pinch to grow an inch’ on her tush for good measure. She was the tiniest bit pink afterwards.
Then it was Amanda’s turn, and she got much more into it than I did. She gave Katie a lecture about behaving in school and not embarrassing the family – I presume she copied this lecture from her own parents. Amanda then pulled Katie over her lap and gave her ten rapid, hard spanks, with an extra hard one to grow on. 
Katie came off of her lap bouncing around and rubbing her bottom, which was now thoroughly pink. She commented on how much it hurt – Amanda and I assured her that she had gotten off easy, and that was nothing compared to what our parents dished out. Katie admitted that she was pretty lucky.
By the second time I gave a spanking, I was a bit older and it was more in an official capacity rather than just kids playing games. I was 16 and had been tasked with babysitting my cousins, six-year-old Emma and eight-year-old Randy.
It was the first time that I had babysat them and they were pushing the limits from the beginning, especially Randy. I had done a couple of time-outs and some threats, but nothing was working. As the night wore on, their behaviour got worse and worse, and they were jumping on the couches and running through the house. 
I had had enough. I grabbed Randy by the wrist as he ran past and began to drag him to the couch. “Hey, what are you doing?” “I’ve had enough of your naughty behaviour, young man – you’re getting a spanking.” “You can’t spank me. You’re not my mom.” “I can and I will,” I said as I sat down on the couch. 
The childrens’ mom hadn’t said that I could spank them, but she had also not said that I couldn’t. I knew that they were a spanking family and at this point, we had reached the point of no return. I grabbed the waistband of Randy’s shorts and underwear and jerked them down. He clamped his hands down over his privates just as fast as he could. 
“You can’t! You can’t!” I tipped him over my lap and began to spank him. I gave him two smacks for each year of his age, so a total of 16. He was kicking and screaming by the tenth swat. I had to hold his legs in place to finish the punishment. 
When it was over, I marched Randy to the corner, with him waddling along because his pants were still around his ankles. I told him he had 10 minutes of corner time, with no rubbing. I swatted his bottom one more time and then went for Emma.
While her brother was getting spanked, Emma had had an amused look on her face – but now she looked nervous. “Please don’t,” she pleaded. “I’ll be good.” “It’s too late for that now. You’ve been very naughty young lady.” 
Emma’s shorts and undies came down and she went over my lap as well. Like her brother, she got two smacks for each year of her age, for a solid round dozen. Unlike her brother, Emma didn’t kick or scream – she just cried and cried, with big fat tears rolling down her face, leaving a wet spot on the couch.
As soon as we were done, she hugged me and wanted to cuddle. I held her for a minute and then deposited her in the corner like her brother. 
After their corner time was over, both children were much better behaved. I did tell their mom that I had spanked them when she got home. She assured me that I had done the right thing and gave me permission to spank the children again in the future. However, the need never arose again, because they always behaved for me after that.
I should add that when Emma was in college, she babysat my own kids a couple of times, and did give my eldest son a few swats on his bare bottom when he wouldn’t settle down.
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By day, I was a women’s studies minor, wrote a weekly feminist column for the student newspaper, and was president of the National Organization of Women on campus. By night, I really, really, really just wanted to be spanked.
By day, I was a women’s studies minor, wrote a weekly feminist column for the student newspaper, and was president of the National Organization of Women on campus. By night, I really, really, really just wanted to be spanked.

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My first spanking was at my 16th birthday party. My guy friends tackled me on the kitchen floor and took turns giving me 16 spanks. And maybe one for good luck. I don’t remember. Once freed, I was livid. I was mortified.
In the years to come, I got some playful spankings, during which I was always twisting, giggling, and trying to get out of it. My first serious boyfriend loved to smack me on the ass as a joke, as did my second serious boyfriend. The more I protested, laughingly telling them to stop, the more they did it. And getting playful spanks always, always led to making out. I look back now and see that both guys realized I loved getting spanked long before I did.
You could say I was in denial about my spanking fetish. It wasn’t that I thought slapping booty was abuse, nor was my starched WASP upbringing to blame. No, the problem was my feminist sensibilities. I realize now that the term “feminism” is vague and means different things for different people, but when I was younger, I assumed there was a way a feminist should think and act. So, even though I liked the feeling of getting spanked, I felt conflicted about giving up my physical power, thinking spanking wasn’t something an independent and opinionated woman should enjoy . Just how, I fretted, could a partner take me seriously as a thinker, a doer, and a creator when I wanted to be submissive to him? What if people think I’m weird or screwed up?
But my sex drive proved mightier than my hang-ups and spanking became a main course of my sex life—albeit a shameful one—in college.
And I was, by a few different guys who, to varying degrees, were down with giving me spankings. But I still felt kind of ashamed because they themselves didn’t enjoy it, but they spanked me anyway because they knew it made me happy.
When I was 21, right after I graduated from college, I began dating Brandon, a brilliant, charismatic, confident 22-year-old. I loved how his dominant, even arrogant, personality manifested itself between the sheets. (Really, the only place I could put up with such a personality.) I didn’t have to ask for him to spank or dominate me because he did it naturally, and I didn’t feel like I was “choosing” to be submissive. But when we broke up after nine months, I knew I wanted the next guy I dated to be dominant in bed, like Brandon had been. I did a little Googling about submission and spanking fetishes and discovered it was a lot of other people’s fetishes, as well.
Fast forward a few years, and a few sexually un-fulfilling relationships, to Charles, the first guy who made me feel like there wasn’t anything wrong or un-feminist about wanting to be spanked. I’d known Charles for years, so he knew about my feminist activism and the writing I do about women’s issues. Once Charles learned about my dom/sub fetish, he knew—and respected—how conflicted I felt. Charles wanted to spank a woman as badly as I wanted to be spanked, and that was what mattered to him. Plus, he’d struggled with apathetic partners, as I had, and he owned a paddle! Alas, Charles also had a girlfriend.
Not that that stopped us. No, we were selfish: Charles cheated on his girlfriend with me. But those few weeks were sexually charged, passionate and wonderful. And other than feeling guilt about the cheating, I d
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