The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Saturday, January 24, 2015

F/M Spanking Sunday -- Red Saturday

It's not always about punishment, although the drama of crime and punishment usually makes for a better story. No, sometimes it's just about couples having fun. Here's a domestic scene that illustrates this point. The author is anonymous. I have absolutely no data on this one, so if it's you, write me and tell me.
Art by Redrump

RED SATURDAY



Jim looked at his watch, but not for the reason most men out with their buddies
at the local bar would be carefully tracking the time.  His curfew was open,
and accepted by his adoring wife.  On the other hand, his punishment was also
guaranteed.  Overall a delightful little game he and Holly played routinely.
However these once a month "boy's night out" adventures were followed by
special "red bottom" Saturdays.  

He felt his pulse quicken a bit at the mere thought.  While he did enjoy the
freedom to spend the time with his friends, some going back to high school, it
was really all a prelude to the main event.  The others were happy to escape
the "old ball and chain" while he looked forward to the events that would start
early tomorrow.  Thus, his curfew was self inflicted.  He didn't want to be too
tired, or too hung over to enjoy "the game".  He cherished the love they
shared.  She knew he would never stray, and was comfortable allowing him
freedom the others didn't have.  Their shared "dirty little secret" provided a
bond that other couples could only envy.

Obviously, it went beyond their mutual spanking interest.  Still, the interest
was such a integral part of each, that such a deep commitment would have been
impossible without that important link.  

It was almost midnight, and Jim ordered his last drink of the evening.  He'd
catch a cab home, wake his lovely wife (pretending to be impatiently waiting
while really dozing contentedly on the couch) and absorb her playful scolding.
She would smack his fully clothed bottom a few times, still playful but firm,
and promise him a full day of punishment.  All punctuated by a mischievous
sparkle from her deep blue eyes.  Even in his semi-drunken state, the
fluttering anticipation churned within him.  He smiled at the thought of the
following morning, and the afternoon . . .  and certainly the evening.

The night had been great fun.  They had started at the bowling alley, rolled
three games, then ended up at the sports bar that always housed the final hours
of these evenings.  They told raunchy jokes, shot pool, watched the end of the
football game, and drank heavily.  As expected, Alex, the youngest of the merry
gang, dashed out early.  He always said he had to work in the morning, and that
the boss would have his ass if he were out too late.  Jim knew the boss was
quite the looker, and even if she was probably ten years older than Alex, he
suspected there was more than mere work involved.  As for the "have his ass"
comment, well Jim wondered about that too (but that is another story).

Fred, the senior of the bunch, always left around midnight.  It was amazing how
even this supposed unplanned, impromptu, albeit regularly scheduled, adventure,
had developed its own expected sequence of events.  Jim would be the next to
leave.  The remaining crew would stay till closing.  They chided the
"pussy-whipped" others, always asking who ran their respective households, and
who wore the pants.  However, it never bothered or deterred the three "early
outs".  So as Jim finished his drink, called a cab, and announced his
departure, he knew the jabs to expect.  If only they knew the thrills waiting
at home . . . if only they knew . . .

He waited outside in the crisp autumn air.  It was sobering, and refreshing.
The noise from the bar seeped into the night, but it was still fairly tranquil.
 The cacophony still echoed in his head, and it was a relief to escape it.  He
finished the last of the awful cigar (another part of the ritual these night's
embraced) and thankfully tossed it toward the curb.  Jim always made one cigar
last the whole night, not remotely enjoying it, but enduring it as part of the
whole evening.  Although relighting it throughout the night seemed to make it
progressively worse, smoking more than one would surely have him green around
the gills.  And, he had important things to do in the morning.

The taxi pulled up, and dashed him home to the expected events that would close
the night, and yet signal the opening of the following day's activities.  His
excitement grew, in every way, during the brief ride home.  Fortunately his
long coat would do double duty, insulation from both the crisp temperature, as
well as any potential embarrassment as he got out of the cab.

He woke Holly with the stale, hackneyed line that had, through repetition,
developed a bit of humor.

        "The taxi stopped with a jerk, and here I am."

        She awoke, scolded as predicted, smacked his bottom, flashed a roguish smile,
then both headed to bed, knowing, and soon dreaming of the gifts "red bottom"
Saturday would surely bestow.

Jim woke first, feeling no ill effects from the previous inebriated evening.
He sleepily went to the kitchen, and made the morning's coffee.  Although both
he and Holly would be chomping at the bit, anxious to get started, they would
savor a cup or two of coffee, and some playful banter before unleashing their
desires.  He retrieved the morning paper from the front step, and glanced at
the front page before diving into the sports section.  Even that held little
interest for him this morning.  He liked the dread and desire of the morning,
and the distraction it caused.  His thoughts unable to settle on anything else,
as the forthcoming activities continued to pick at the edges of his mind.

Certainly the day would be filled with many spankings.  Firm, sound spankings.
However, never pressed to the point of severe or brutal.  They would all be
erotic in nature, even if intense, with perhaps a slight overtone of
discipline.  But even that would just be part of the fun.  His buddies would
never understand this aspect of his life, if, heaven forbid, they ever knew
about it.  Hell, they questioned his "manliness", and who ran his household, by
the mere fact that he left the bar a few hours before closing time.  They'd
never understand that, outside these games he and his loving wife enjoyed, he
was the leader of the house.  Overall, a true democracy, a fifty-fifty
relationship.  Yet on a day to day level, Holly expected him to "be the man"
and lead.

So, while these days were joyous, and allowed Holly the opportunity to be fully
in charge,  they were not a microcosm of everyday life at the household.
Simply put, this was about sex.  Wonderful, glorious, earth moving sex.  Neither
wanted a dominant/submissive relationship.  It was just a fun walk in fantasy.
The coffee finally finished brewing.  The coffee maker seemed intent on proving
that watched pots never boil, always seeming to require twice as long when one
waited.  Jim filled two cups, supplying the desired respective additives to
both.  He took a sip of his own, before trudging back up the steps to the
bedroom.  He was awake, and felt fine, but until he finished the first cup of
coffee, he would not be completely alive.

Holly was stirring, still snug under the covers, as he re-entered the room.
"Good morning, Beautiful."
She sat up and smiled, already a wicked sparkle in her eyes.  She looked at the
clock, and with a sly wink remarked that it was strange she would sleep this
late on THIS day.
"Mmmm, you brought me some coffee. Thanks.  If I didn't know you better, I may
think you were trying to get out of your spankings."
"Well, my dear, if I didn't know YOU better, I may believe a mere cup of
coffee, even though dutifully brought to your bedside, would actually influence
your sense of mercy."
"You do know me so well.  But, Mister, let me assure you that I know more than
a little about you.  I know you would be soooooo disappointed if my sense of
justice was so easily swayed.  Your kindness, much appreciated kindness, as I
do so love my first cup of coffee served in bed, is graciously accepted.
However, before too long, your spankable behind is mine."

And so the playful banter went.  Verbal foreplay that moved the game to the
next level.  Each expressing their love for the other, in the gentlest of
terms, even as the familiar buzz words peppered the conversation.  Jim got them a
second cup of coffee from the kitchen, knowing the final countdown was at hand.
 
The apprehension was at its peak.  His insides quivered with a sense of fear,
combined with desire, anxiety, and pure unashamed lust.
His hike back up the steps was far more buoyant, though less from the coffee
than the lively conversation.  When he stepped through the door, Holly made a
simple request that elevated the play to the next level.

"Could you be a Dear, and bring the hairbrush from my dresser?  I mean since
you are up, and may not be so again for a while."
Jim felt his pulse race as he picked up the wicked wooden brush.  He and this
item had a love/hate relationship.  He handed Holly both her coffee and the
brush, unable to look her in the eye.  She smacked the brush firmly into her
palm a few times.

"James, you seem nervous.  It is an innocent brush.  Or have you been a naughty
boy?  Been neglecting your chores?  Staying out too late?"
He never really knew what to say at this moment.  Of course he had been
neglecting his chores.  THEY had been neglecting their chores.  Somehow "red
bottom" Saturday had also become the day they caught up on the items that were
lost in the everyday rat race.  Most weekends they enjoyed leisure time
together. Dinners out, shopping, hiking, perhaps a concert.  Weekdays were a
blur as they pursued their careers, the necessary life maintenance details, and
still made a point to allow a bit of time for romance.

Holly interrupted his silent thoughts.
"James, your silence speaks volumes, so you might as well get out of those
undies before sitting and finishing your coffee.  You won't be needing them for
a while, and I dare say, after your coffee, you won't be sitting down for a
while, either."

Her tone was playfully stern.  In these moments it always hit the right nerve,
and even as Jim stripped from his underwear, the only clothing he had on, his
erection was beginning to grow and twitch.  He blushed, which he found odd
given their years together.

"Come sit beside me and enjoy your coffee."  She tapped the brush repeatedly in
the assigned spot on the bed, knowing it contrasted with her word "enjoy".  Jim
sat where instructed, every bit of his body tingling with the moment.  Part
wanting to flee, part needing this to continue and savoring it.

Soon the cups were empty, and Jim found himself draped across Holly's lap, as
she sat in the middle of the bed.  Her hand massaged his upturned bottom,
sending jolts of excitement into his stiff arousal.  Her hand raised, and he
clenched in anticipation.  She always started with hard, slow, steady spanks.
Each one fully absorbed before the next one landed, as she alternated from side
to side.  His bottom clenched, and his legs kicked a bit.  Her stinging hand
always caused his erection to wilt during these harsh segments.

After a couple dozen well paced intense spanks, when she was certain she had
his undivided attention, the force of the blows was diminished.  Jim's bottom
had acclimated itself to the sensation of her hand and he began arching in
anticipation of the next delicious swat.  She always found the precise level.
The one perfectly described by the expression "warming".  An element of pain,
but the pleasure eclipsed it.  In fact it really became a delicious feeling,
which was made more so by the pain that seasoned it.

Though lighter, the spanks were faster, and scattered.  Soon every inch of his
bottom had gone beyond pink, to a deep red.  His arousal was at full glory,
massaging itself between her thighs in perfect rhythm with the steady slaps.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the intensity built.  Her hand was soon landing
with far greater force than used at the very beginning of the spanking.  His
tempered cheeks, and his growing lust, allowed him to accept the harsh slaps
with only the slightest discomfort, and the greatest of delight and
satisfaction.

He ached for release, but knew she would never allow it. Not yet.  Her hand
stopped, and he knew she was reloading, and grabbing the punishing hair brush.
She repeated the process used earlier.  Paddling his bottom with a slow series
of intense swats.  Again his erection withered.  He bucked, and writhed from
the sharp, crisp brush.  His cheeks clenched in sincere apprehension, but it
offered no protection or comfort.  Soon the brush began landing lighter,
offering a delicious kiss to his thoroughly scorched behind.  As quickly as it
had faded, his arousal returned.

"James, you are really being quite naughty.  This is not supposed to be for
your pleasure.  I believe you had your fun last night, drinking and staying out
all hours."  Her tone was teasing and pleasant.

"Now I want you to get up, and pleasure me with your sweet probing tongue.  I
do so enjoy admiring your lovely red bottom as you slowly drive me to ecstacy."
He climbed from her lap, as she positioned herself on the bed to allow full
view of the site she savored.  She was hot and wet, already at the brink.
Spanking him was always the ultimate turn on for her.  As such, the drive to
  ecstasy was not slow, and soon she moaned as the waves of orgasm swept over
her.  Always loving to push her to complete frenzy, Jim continued licking,
exploring, and savoring her until she begged him to stop.

She was limp, basking in the moment.  Jim was always pleased with his ability
to satiate her erotic desires.  Even as his own twitching, stiffness screamed
for its own relief, he felt only complete satisfaction with his handiwork.
Besides, he knew she would soon drive him into his own frenzy of pulsing
pleasure.

"James, are you still hard?  Tsk tsk.  Such a naughty boy, you leave me no
choice but to spank you again.  Get back over my lap."
He scurried across her lap, his rigidness nestling between her soft thighs.
His red, warm bottom arched up and begging for the "punishment" she had
promised.  She always amazed him with her ability to find the perfect tempo,
and intensity when she wanted to spank him to blissful orgasm.  Of course, he
was in such a state by the time she allowed him relief, that probably anything
short of brutal would have accomplished her goal.  The fire in his behind grew
as rapidly as his impending explosive climax.  In minutes he was convulsing,
and spurting, then collapsing.

"I hope you learned your lesson, Mister."  She laughed merrily.
Satiated and replete, they showered and went to the local diner for an early
lunch.  The morning's activities had carried beyond a reasonable breakfast
hour.  Holly enjoyed his discomfort as he sat in the hard wooden booth, and
teased him playfully.  Soon her hand reached under the table cloth, and gently
rubbed him.  Massaging him to full life, then, in a whisper, scolding him for
such naughtiness in public.

"You obviously have not learned your lesson yet.  When we get home, I'll have
to paddle you again.  Then, young man, you have chores to do.  The lawn needs
to be raked, before it is one big leaf pile, and that garage needs cleaned.  Do
you understand?"

He gasped an excited "Yes" as she continued fondling him.  Even with a freshly
spanked bottom, the thought of her seated in the official straight back
punishment chair, paddling his bare behind, was heavenly.
Fortunately the food came before he did, so her hands busied themselves with
that.  He felt flush and warm, certain everyone in the place, although they all
seemed oblivious, was aware of the sexual sparks flying between him and his
precious wife.  The conversation turned to light silly things as they enjoyed
their meal.  Both of them lost in their own lustful, arousing thoughts.

The moment they walked into the door, she was leading him to the waiting
special chair in the living room.  The large, thin paddle was placed on the
seat.  She had obviously planned this last night, and made all of the necessary
preparations.  It had a delightful sting, though Jim suspected his still
burning bottom may object a bit today, and was large enough to cover both
cheeks with each spank.  He greatly preferred it to the biting, thick, small
brush.  She stripped him from the waist down, while scolding him for his
terrible, nasty behavior at the restaurant.  Ironic humor, and fun, but
scolding nonetheless.

Soon the paddle echoed off the walls of the room in a steady percussion.
Holly
pushed him to his limit, as his bottom jumped and squirmed, but never escaped.
It was fast, but not furious, as she rapidly lit up her still red target.  Her
grip tightened as she finished with a more intense volley that had him kicking
and flailing.  She did have a wicked streak in her that loved that view, that
moment, and that feeling of power.  Nothing else could fan the flames of her
sexual desires like pressing him slightly beyond the real pleasure zone.

She released him, and savored his efforts to rub the fire out of his well
paddled, sore bottom.  She all but ripped off her own clothes before
unbuttoning his shirt, and pushing him down to the floor.  The carpet nipped at
his hot backside, a feeling oddly pleasant, especially coupled with her gentle
stokes, as she quickly worked him back to stiff excitement.

She straddled him, and slid him deep within her.  He watched as she rocked,
swayed, and undulated.  Her eyes slightly closed, feasting on, and cherishing,
the splendid feelings.  Her pert breasts heaved with the deep breaths of her
excitement.  The scratching carpet, her sweet warmth, the glow in his bottom .
. . it took all his concentration to hold back.  Then she got that look, that
telltale look, followed by a sharp gasp, and he allowed himself to release his
own rapture deep within her.  They moaned in near unison as she draped over
him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him tightly.

They shared soft kisses and sweet words, enveloped, and feeling as one.
The chores filled the afternoon, accompanied by their continued flirting
and teasing.  During the process they had decided to prepare a lovely dinner at
home, complete with candlelight and wine.

As expected, the shared dinner preparation allowed Holly to playfully swat his
still tender rear with a myriad of kitchen implements.  She was sorry the day
had passed so quickly, while Jim was feeling a certain sense of relief that it
was ending.  It had been fun, but his bottom was almost worn out.  He would
need a few days of recovery before they returned to their ongoing sporadic
spanking play that ever so delightfully sprinkled into their steamy sex
adventures.  Even still he enjoyed the horse play in the kitchen, keeping a
watchful eye on his mischievous wife, knowing she would take full advantage of
every opportunity.

Darkness had almost completely overtaken the day, with only a few shreds of
light still filtering through the windows.  The candles provided the perfect
ambiance for an ideal romantic dinner.  They ate in relative silence, sharing
only a few tender words, and adoring glances.  They both knew the day would
finish with an early flight up the stairs to the bedroom.  Soon she would be
massaging his tender bottom, eventually spanking it tenderly.

They would end the day with ecstatic love-making, followed by Holly snuggling
into his arms, musing that "red bottom" Saturdays should be ongoing, not just
once a month.  Jim would simply reply, "Don't push it, Sweets.  The old gray
man, he ain't what he used to be."  Then, in delightful exhaustion they would
turn out the lights, and in unison complete the game . . .

"I do so love you."

2 comments:

Gary said...

I like the romance in this one, Rollin. The wife and I used to have Saturdays like this, and that's why I laughed so hard at the end. This gray one isn't what he used to be either! She has a fondness for using lots of different toys, with a lot of playing in between. Good old days.

Rollin said...

Gary, you're a lucky guy. I'm sure a few of my readers would like to trade places for a day.