When I married Gil nine years ago, my friends and relatives were not too pleased. While they liked Gil, they thought I was marrying beneath myself. After all, they reasoned, a college graduate with such a good head on her shoulders should be able to do better than a high school graduate with a blue collar job. Sooner or later, and probably sooner, they all agreed, the differences in our schooling and interests would drive us apart. It was inevitable.
Well, today those same friends and relatives a few of whom are in less than perfect relationships are shaking their heads in amazement that Gil and I are still together. But it’s not all that hard to understand, really. While my husband has little interest in so called intellectual pursuits, he is chock full of common sense, considerate of my needs, helpful around the house, sweet, thoughtful and altogether masterful in the bedroom. He’s also attractive in a rugged, unkempt sort of way. He likes to hunt and fish and, well, I guess he’s what you’d call a man’s man. But there’s more.
Early on in our relationship, Gil and I realized we enjoyed a sexual compatibility that was special. He, quite naturally, is very comfortable in the dominant role, whereas I am very happy being submissive. Truth be told, I knew I was in love with Gil the first time he took me over his knee for a vigorous, old fashioned spanking. And I knew it would be foolish to let him get away. What did I care if he didn’t know from Swan Lake, if he thought Shakespeare might have played for the 1946 Cubs? He knew exactly how to press all my erotic buttons, and that, for me, was everything.
Adding to my husband’s magic is his gift for woodworking. He is a skilled craftsman, capable of turning a nondescript chunk of wood into something not only functional but beautiful. He’s made most of the furniture in our finished basement and my dad is still talking about the gorgeous desk Gil gave him for his birthday last year. But for me, Gil does his best work when he’s making something that has to do with reddening my rear, like the beautifully finished, leather covered paddle he gave me just yesterday for our anniversary. Or the ultra comfortable “spanking bench” he surprised me with on my last birthday.
Ah, the spanking bench. Simple in design, it stands about two and a half feet high and is rectangular in shape. The bench is padded on top and has two cutouts for my breasts. At one end, at either corner, are two large eyescrews, which together with red velvet ropes are used to secure my wrists and hold my arms outstretched and immobile. It’s just beautiful.
Tears of happiness welled in my eyes when I unwrapped my birthday gift and saw my husband’s latest work of art, designed with my pleasure and comfort in mind. I gave him a big hug and then, with my pussy all atingle, insisted we try out the bench immediately. Gil, of course, thought that was an outstanding idea. Within minutes, I was stark naked and kneeling in front of the bench, then moving forward and guiding my breasts through the cutouts, wriggling a bit as I got comfortable. Then I stretched out my arms so Gil could fasten a velvet rope around each wrist. Now, kneeling on the carpeted floor with my top half resting on the padded bench top, my bottom thrust out lewdly, I was all set to receive my spanking. The anticipation alone was enough to start my pussy leaking like a faucet.
And I was not alone in my arousal my husband, as evidenced by his world class erection, was as excited by all this as I was. Teasingly, he walked around the bench a few times, turning the solid oak ping pong paddle (another of his creations) over in his hand as he enjoyed the sight of his submissive wife awaiting her spanking.
“Are you ready, Joanne?” he asked in his most devilish tone of voice.
“Oh, yes,” I answered immediately. “Do it to me, darling. Give me what I need so badly.”
“You want me to whack your ass good? Turn those luscious cheeks scarlet?”
“Please, don’t tease me,” I whined. “Make me feel it. I want it hard.”
With the right side of my face resting against the bench top, I could just about see my husband take up a position behind me and bring the paddle back. And then . . . smack! I cried out as the paddle cracked against my left buttock, stinging the taut flesh. Smack! This time it was the right buttock. I yelled again, instinctively pulling at the soft ropes that held my wrists to the eyescrews on the bench. But, of course, escape was the furthest thing from my mind.
With practiced skill, my husband quickly established a delightfully wicked rhythm as he paddled my bottom, turning the half moons of flesh beet red. I was awash in pleasure/pain, both loving and hating the feel of the hard paddle as it smashed again and again on my defenseless behind. Tears were trickling from my eyes when Gil, pausing momentarily, knelt at the side of the bench and reached under it to roughly knead my hanging breasts.
“Your nipples are as hard as pebbles,” he observed, pinching each one in turn. “You must like getting your ass burned.”
“I do, I do,” I said breathlessly. “Give me more, baby. Please.”
When my husband got up to resume spanking me, I saw that his beautiful cock was protruding proudly from its nest of reddish pubic hair. All this did was make me that much hotter and wetter. A hard fucking following a wicked thrashing of my butt has always been my idea of heaven. I knew that Gil wouldn’t disappoint me.
After giving me another six blows with the ping pong paddle, my husband went and got the sorority style paddle he’d made for me soon after we married. It was a favorite of mine, not so much because of its design but because it was the very first spanking implement to come from his workbench in the basement. And that was where we tried it out, in the basement, with me bent over his workbench, my jeans and panties bunched around my ankles as my husband “initiated” me.
And now, just as then, I howled in pleasure/pain as Gil laid into my butt with the sorority style paddle on which, by the way, as a finishing touch he had put decals showing a couple fucking in various positions. My ass was throbbing by the time he stopped and loosened the ropes holding me to the bench. I couldn’t wait to feel his cock plunging deep inside me.
As expected, Gil put the icing on the cake by fucking me with even more gusto than usual, his effort no doubt inspired by the way I had responded to his sensational birthday gift. We did it fast and hard right there on the floor next to the spanking bench, finishing up doggy style with both of us gasping and groaning and finally coming in an explosion of ecstasy.
But that was then. Now what about the beautiful leather covered paddle Gil gave me yesterday? Well, he’s taking me out to dinner this Saturday and then, when we return home, we’ll try it out. Then I guess I’ll accompany him downstairs and watch him work on his latest masterpiece. It’s a heavy wooden frame with holes for confining my ankles and wrists. Like the stocks of old, you know? Every time I picture myself in that thing while my husband has at my poor, vulnerable ass I get soaking wet. He says it should be finished in a few weeks. I certainly hope so.
Ms. Joanne P., Mahwah, New Jersey