Spanking Each Other

Spanking Each Other
Well, I must admit I am pleased that it’s almost been two weeks and until today, I haven’t witnessed my wife break a rule. She has been on her best behaviour.
Tonight, there was a mishap that I still felt had to be addressed if my word is to mean anything. While I was watching the inauguration, my wife was preparing dinner, and I heard a loud bang followed a very loud, FUCK! Not once, not twice but I think five times.
I went into the kitchen to see a huge salad spilt all over the floor.
Not to toot my own horn, but I was very calm and asked her if she said what I thought she said, and she looked like she saw a ghost. I calmly told her to stand in the corner, the corner I showed which is the designated punishment corner.
She apologized and said she should never speak that way. I told her I appreciated her apology, but she needed to stand in the corner immediately. I lightly took her by the arm, and brought her to the corner, positioned her and told her to think about the language she used and not to turn around.
Whew! The first step accomplished, and I had some time to prepare for the spanking. I decided to have her spend 20 minutes in the corner. I decided since it was her first spanking that I would use mostly my hand and then maybe 10 with the paddle.
After 20 minutes, I insisted she strip and stand in front of me.
I told her I was going to give her a spanking and I asked her why. She answered because I swore.
I put her over my knee and spanked her for about five minutes with my hand. She was quiet, but her behind turned pink.
I then grabbed my paddle, which I had next to the chair and gave her 10 fairly hard spanks. She was no longer quiet and begged me to stop. It was very hard for me, but I carried on and told her this would happen every time she swears. She started crying, and finally, I could tell by her sobbing, and the very red colour of her behind I had spanked her sufficiently. I sent her back to the corner and told her to think about her behaviour. She was crying still.
I made her stand in the corner for another 20 minutes. At the 15 minute mark, I made her turn to me, and I put a bar of soap in her mouth and told her to spend 5 minutes with it in her mouth.
She gagged a little and then I turned her back to face the corner.
I spent these five minutes lecturing her on how inappropriate it is for a lady of her beauty and intelligence to use such words. It will not be tolerated, and I hope that your behind will remind you not to. I could tell she wanted to speak but couldn’t because of the soap. When her corner time was finished, I let her spit out the soap and had her watch me put in a sealable bag reminding her that it’s her for future use.
I had her hang my paddle back up and put the soap in the medicine cabinet.
I then hugged her and told her she handled her punishment well. I told her to continue cleaning up and make dinner but to remain nude. And that is what she is doing now. I think I will let her put her clothes on after dinner and cleanup.
Well, for the first spanking, I think it went well. I remained calm, was very firm and gave her a good spanking. She was pretty submissive and very embarrassed. I think nude corner time with soap made her feel humiliated, which I feel was deserved.
I can’t deny that it was challenging to really spank her, but I am determined to steer her right and improve my marriage.
Domestic Discipline Lifestyle For Consenting Adults

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Tender skin. An open palm or leather flogger. The anticipation before the hand or instrument meets flesh. The thrill as the sound reaches your ears at precisely the same moment the sensation reaches every inch of your body. And you only get another if you ask very, very nicely.
Oh, the joys of spanking. It may have been a dreaded punishment as a kid. But as part of consensual adult play, it can be delicious fun. Much of the thrill comes from the expectation and build-up. When will it happen? How will it feel? Will it happen again? And no matter how many times you may indulge, those same questions always seem to arrive since each spanking encounter is different.
People enjoy spanking, because in a safe environment, it can be exhilarating to command and to relinquish all power. The spanker is in control of how many spanks and how hard (within the agreed upon scenario, of course.) The “spankee” is left to wait and wonder. Many people find themselves aroused before the paddle ever meets skin, in fact. Just the setup and the imagery in their mind is enough to drive them wild.
Spanking is also a thrill for the senses. The smell of the leather. The sight of the instruments of pleasure or your partner’s backside. The sound of the spank. The feel of open hand or flogger or paddle. The taste of your partner’s kiss as reward after you’ve been “punished.” In fact, each of those sensations alone can send some spanking aficionados over the edge.
The mere sight of the instruments of play can make some people salivate. Although you can use your bare hand, some prefer to use a leather flogger, spanker, slapper, or riding crop for spanking play . And sometimes just leaving it out for your partner to see will delight him or her as much as the action to follow. There is something naughty about these tools, especially when “innocently” left out on crisp white sheets, hinting to the evening’s activities to come.
If you want to get a taste of how it’s done and how it may feel, you might first want to try reading some erotica on the subject, like “Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories" by Rachel Kramer Bussel. Warning: These tales are not for the faint of heart, and they may likely make you long for the barest of bottoms. Sorry, couldn’t resist. And if you choose to indulge in spanking erotica, believe me, you won’t be able to resist either.
The how-to of spanking is simple because you can play however you like. The only real rule is that those who are in the game want to be. Talk beforehand about what you’d like to do, and what doesn’t interest you one bit. And have a safe word, something simple and easy to remember. If that word is ever uttered, it’s hands off. Literally. No questions asked.
You may want your partner to lower his or her pants just enough for you to get to the goods. That mid-state of undress might actually be more exciting for you both than going the full monty.
The “spankee” can lie across the spanker’s lap, legs spread (if clothing allows.) Or he or she can bend over or lie across a bed, chair, or table. It’s your scene, set it however you like.
You may want to take your hand or instrument of choice and rub the waiting target gently, teasing with the very thing that is about to bring a sting or slap or whisper of pain.
A little dirty talk can also be fun when you indulge in spanking play.
“That’s better. Now lift up that beautiful bum. I’m about to start a little fire.”
You get the idea. And it may sound cheesy now. But in the moment, you just might find your heart racing and your breath shortening without warning.
Take your time. Going too quickly will spoil half the fun. And be sure to check in with your partner. Reminding the spankee to breathe is also a good idea as you go. It makes the pleasure deeper and keeps the spankee in touch with how the sensations really feel.
Step Six: Basking in the Afterglow.
Yum. The aftermath. Almost the best part. The red marks left behind. The heat rising from the spanked skin. Caressing the skin with cool hands after the spanking can be stellar. Or, try a massage tool like ceramic stones that you can chill with ice-cold water and soothe your savage beast with by doing a bottoms-up massage. The smooth texture combined with the chill feels amazing on fiery skin.
The attraction to spanking play is manifold. And although it may take a little courage to ask your partner if he or she wants to play, I’m betting you won’t be disappointed by the reply. Then all you have to do is shut the door and utter the magic word.
Jenny Block is a freelance writer based in Dallas. She is the author of "Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage." Her work appears in "One Big Happy Family," edited by Rebecca Walker and "It’s a Girl: Women Writers on Raising Daughters," edited by Andrea Buchanan. Visit her Web site at www.jennyonthepage.com.

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I grew up in the 1980s and 1990s, and while spanking was, I think, still in common practice in my neighborhood, it had already gotten a certain stigma attached to it, mainly from well-intentioned liberals who could not differentiate between abuse and discipline that came from a loving place. My folks were, and are, progressive liberals with strong social consciences, but they also are very old-fashioned in their beliefs on raising kids.
All of us, I am the oldest of four, with a younger sister and two younger brothers, were spanked into our mid-teens. To be clear, our parents were heavily involved in our lives and provided, sometimes at great sacrifice from them, all that we could ask, both materially and emotionally. We were always cared for and knew that we were loved. Equally, they were clear on expectations and consequences, and there was no ambiguity or inconsistency in either.
As I said, the stigma attached to parental spanking meant that it was not discussed in the open and never outside the family. I often felt like I was the only teen in the world who was still getting her bare bottom spanked, and that often felt very lonely and isolating. It was comforting, at least, that I had a set of cousins, the children of my mom’s sister, who also grew up in a spanking household and whose parents shared the same views on it as my parents did.

There were six kids in that house: My cousin, Judith, known as Judi, was a couple months older than me. We were, and are, extremely close and often shared our experiences and feelings on being spanked and were frequent consolers, each of the other. I got my last spanking at 16 1/2, but Judi was still getting them as a high school senior. Judi is actually my uncle’s niece. My aunt and uncle took her in when she was 8 or 9 and formally adopted her when she was 10 (long story). She grew up in that house and thinks of my aunt and uncle as her parents. The oldest of my aunt and uncle’s biological kids are twins, Jackson and Jordan, two years younger than Judi, followed closely by Julia, a year younger, and Jason, a year younger than Julia. My aunt and uncle later added another boy, Jeremiah, who is about 5 years younger than Jason.
Like my mom, my aunt was a first-response spanker. Though she tended to let more things slide than my mom did, probably because of the sheer number of kids there, spankings were not rare there, and, unlike my house, were always done in the open in front of whatever family happened to be there. With the exception of the youngest boy, I’d seen each of my cousins on the receiving end at least once, bent over getting the paddle applied to their bare bottoms. My aunt also believed in ‘while you are a guest here, I expect you to follow the rules’ and I had found myself in that bent-over position a handful of times when I stayed there over the years.
When this recollection took place, I was 18, already married, and living with my husband in a studio apartment over my in-laws’ garage. My mom called me on a Friday and asked if I wanted to spend the weekend at her house. My husband was in the Reserves and was away on some training exercise. At first, I thought she wanted to offer me some company so I wouldn’t be all by myself, and while that may have been in true in part, I came to find out she was watching three of my cousins that weekend, in addition to my youngest brother, so perhaps she may also have been looking for reinforcements.
The twins, who were around 15, were on a travel hockey team and my aunt and uncle were chaperones at some tournament taking place over the border in Canada. My dad was there too, because the older of my younger brothers was on a team in a different age division. My sister was on a sleepover, so that left my brother Patrick, who was 10, Julia, who was 14, Jason, who was 13, and Jeremiah, who was 8, for my mother to corral.
The evening started out well. Though I was not of legal age, mom let me drink while I was there, and I was enjoying some sparkling wine. Mom was making pasta with meatballs, a favourite of the kids. My little brother seemed to be enjoying having Jeremiah around, maybe because it meant he was not the youngest for a change.
That left Julia and Jason. Julia was in the midst of her young teen girl ennui and everything in her body language, tone and expression said she wanted to be anywhere else but where she was. I tried to engage her, but the monosyllabic responses I was getting caused me to throw in the towel. Jason was always moody and sullen, even on a good day, and his mood that night was apparently compounded because he was missing out on some outing with his school buddies. His face was planted into the screen of the Gameboy he brought with him and he barely acknowledged anyone else’s existence.
My mom called everyone down for dinner around 5. And while Patrick and Jeremiah were eager eaters and answered the bell the first time, it took some additional cajoling to get Julia and Jason to the kitchen table. Julia was playing the ‘I’m not hungry’ card and asked to be excused. Mom was being unusually patient, but shot down the request with a terse: “No. If you don’t want to eat, fine, but you can stay here until we have.” That engendered a huff and some mumbles that, again, mom let pass, although I could sense her growing agitation.
Perhaps as a passive aggressive way to get herself away from the table, Julia started fussing with Jason, whom she was seated next to. First, she said she wanted the Gameboy after dinner. That started an argument over what their mom had said about sharing it. My mom refereed that one, and the table fell silent for a few moments.
Then Julia piped up that Jason was kicking her under the table. Jason said he wasn’t. Then Julia told Jason to move over and stop crowding her, punctuating the request with an elbow to Jason’s ribs. Mom intervened again, telling them both to knock it off and settle down.
The snipping and sniping kept up in muted tones for a few more minutes before erupting again when Julia shrieked: “STOP KICKING ME!” and thrust another elbow into Jason. He, in turn, slapped her forearm and she made the move to slap him back. Their voices were raised and there were several words used by both that definitely were not table appropriate.
I can’t say for sure exactly what happened next, but in the scrum that ensued, someone’s hand made contact with the glass milk pitcher on the table, tipping it over onto a porcelain salad bowl. The collision broke the handle of the pitcher, put a significant chip in the bowl, sent salad flying and sent a gusher of milk spilling across the table. Mom jumped up and shooed everyone away from the table in case there was any broken glass. Then, very calmly, she took command of the clean-up, dispatching me for paper towels, clearing away broken dishes and inspecting floor and table for any stray shards. Satisfied, she turned her attention to Julia and Jason, who were standing a few feet away against a wall.
To say their demeanors had changed would be mass understatement. The petulance and sullenness had been replaced by shock and fear. Julia, especially, was trembling and there were tears in her eyes. Mom pointed at her.
“I want you to
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