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Laurence
New member
Username: Laurence
Post Number: 3
Registered: 02-2006
| | Posted on Saturday, February 25, 2006 - 12:53 am: | 
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I Want To Make It Good For You
I would do anything for you. I would do anything to help our marriage, but I don’t know what to do now. You have never asked me anything like this in 20 years.
It was just a momentary flash of temper; I still don’t think you violated our discipline agreement. But you’re waiting for my answer, looking everywhere except into my eyes, because you feel you crossed the line. I can tell, from the look on your face, you’ve made up your mind that you need this. But I am hesitant, because the thought of punishing you is making my heart pound.
Yours too. I can hear your heart from here, and I know why: you’re halfway afraid I will consent, and halfway afraid I won’t. The real question is: can I be strict enough to help you change your behaviour. The truth is: I don’t know. I want to give you what you’re asking for, my love; I want this to be good for you.
I just wish I didn’t have to hurt you so much.
And it’s partially my fault. I don’t mean losing your temper; you did that all on your own. But I’m the one who brought the idea of corporal punishment into our marriage, ever since I found that Spencer Plan on the Internet. Since then, you have spanked me several times, when I needed it, I have spanked you every time you needed it, and it has worked very well. Why am I so reluctant now?
I see fear in your eyes. Are you afraid I will reject you? I never would. Are you already dreading your punishment? Last time, I did what was necessary. It hurt you. I don’t want you to be afraid, dear, because I love you, and I’d rather be a comfort to you. But your face reflects your belief that only punishment will absolve your guilt. Which means I have to give you what you need, instead of what I want.
Reaching out, I take both your hands in mine. “I’ll do this for you, if it’s really what you want.” Finally you meet my eyes, which gives me the confirmation that I desperately need. I want you to be calm; I am determined to be very kind to you until the actual moment your punishment begins. If I could figure out a way to be kind and still help you control your temper, I would do it. Ironically, in this tender moment, my love for you helps steel me for the awful pain I must soon inflict.
Somehow I sense that you are doing this for me; you haven’t explained it yet, but I can feel that somehow I will benefit, that you know what you are doing, and in some way this will lead to a better marriage for both of us. But I want to understand; I’m going to keep asking you to explain why you feel the need to be punished. I want to make sure you know what you’re asking for, and that you really want me to do this.
Your answers are unequivocal, and unchanging: you want me to punish you for losing your temper.
So then I ask: “What does the word ‘punish’ mean to you?” Your answer leaves me little room for mercy: you want me to make you feel sorry for what you did, and make you afraid to do it again.
I hold you closely in my arms, and whisper in your ear: “darling, you’re already sorry for your actions. I don’t want you to be afraid. I’m going to punish you so that you can forgive yourself. Then I’m going to give you some excellent reasons to think before you act next time.” I take your face in my hands: “look at me, hon. When this is over, I do not want you afraid, I want you aware. Now, tell me exactly what you need from me? I want to make it good for you.”
Shyly looking away, you tell me of your life before we met: how your temper would suddenly become a raging storm, breaking things and scaring people in your fury. At least you never hurt anyone. I am astounded; I knew nothing of this; for twenty years I have never seen this side of your personality. Right now, you’re determined that I will never see it again, so you take a very deep breath and return your eyes to mine, asking me to punish you, and keep punishing you, until your temper is suppressed. Breathing fast, you continue, saying at last the dreadful words: no matter how much you ask me to stop, you want me to keep going at least until you cry, more if I feel it’s necessary.
I try to keep my thoughts from my countenance: I don’t know if I can do that, love. I try to find the words, but you’re ahead of me: holding my head to your chest, so I don’t have to meet your eyes, telling me you know how hard this will be on both of us, since you don’t cry very easily. That you know I’m going to feel the hurt as much as you do, for which you apologize profusely and sincerely. I hear your heart racing, as you promise to co-operate with anything and everything I tell you to do, because you trust me implicitly, and you will love me more than ever when this is finished.
I have to ask: “How can you be so sure, when you know I have to hurt you so much?”
Your gentle words convince me: you know the only way you can get through this is, to hold on to the thought of my love for you: no matter how much I hurt you, I am doing it for you, doing it for us, that I am doing this because I love you. You are surrendering yourself fully to me, formally granting me complete control over you, accepting my every decision regarding when, how, with what, how much, and how long, until I say we’re done. I look carefully into your eyes; I see the stark honest truth in your face, I see the purity of your trust for me, I see your belief that I am the only one who can help you with your temper.
I can hardly believe my ears. You’re willing to sacrifice your tears, your skin, and your ability to sit, all to enhance our marriage. The least I can do is give up a little of my emotional comfort for the time it takes to punish you. Thank you for reassuring me, honey. I needed that.
I guess you knew.
I’m not ready yet. I do not want to make you wait, but I need some time. I don’t know why, but I do. So I send you inside to take a shower.
When I’m alone, I concentrate on my need for strength. You are trusting me with your innermost need for discipline. You are trusting me not to damage you, and you are trusting me not to give up until you feel truly repentant. I remember reading somewhere that punishment should be a cleansing, uplifting experience, which, when you’re doing it right, everyone involved will feel better when it is over. I remember now, I felt a sense of deep inner peace and forgiveness after my last spanking. I still wish I didn’t have to hurt you so much. But I know I do, I know I have to, but it makes me tremble inside.
Will you forgive yourself, later, when this is all over? Will forgiveness come easier for you, if I make you cry and take you in my arms, the way you held me last time, when I was the one punished?
Did I hesitate like this, last time I punished you? The rules you broke then were very clear, and I punished you willingly. It was easier on me until the very end: I had no idea what I was letting myself in for, no idea how it would affect me, seeing you in such pain.
After your shower, I take you in my arms. I tell you how much I love you, how proud of you I am that you’re willing to control your temper, and how worthy and special and needed you make me feel when you trust me with your discipline. I spend some time rubbing lotion on your bottom, which will soon pay the price for your outbreak of temper. I make it a long intimate moment, but I can still see some fear in your eyes, so I stand up and remove every stitch of my clothing. I can see that this is not what you expected from me right now. I know you like me like this; I know my nakedness will lessen your fear and assure you of my love, so I will remain this way. Before I am your punisher, or your confessor, or anyone else, I am your wife. I will not have you afraid of me, my darling; not now, not while I punish you, and especially not when we’re done.
I remember once when you spanked me, you demonstrated, in your firm but kindly way, that waiting for punishment is an agony all its own. My delay today is only adding to your torment, without helping me at all. It’s time.
I ask if you have anything to say before we begin. You do: you tell me again how much you love me and how much you trust me. Then you ask me again to do everything I can to bring you fully to tears, because you know in your heart that this is the only way to control your temper.
You mean it; you really mean it.
I look into your eyes for a long, long time, trying to read your emotions: I see regret for your actions, and acceptance of your punishment. You take a deep breath; I tenderly guide you face down, over my lap on our marriage bed, lifting your bottom just enough to make it the centre of your attention. You offer me your arms for me to control you.
My heart skips a beat; I am completely reassured now, by the depth of your trust. You are telling me, clearer than any words you could ever speak: that you will accept from me your punishment, all of it, no matter how much it hurts you. I want you comfortable:
I move your arms move this way and that, until they find a place where they don’t strain, and you relax.
“Take deep breaths, sweetheart. All the way in; all the way out. Now listen to me. I want you to concentrate. Focus on your bottom,” I begin to rub you there, “think about everything you’ve said, everything you’ve done, everything you’ve broken, all your regrets, all your guilt, bring it all right here into your bottom now, and feel it.”
Looking at you, lying here before me, the paddle on your bottom and my hand on your back, I once again pause to gather my strength, and I remember vividly my last punishment: lying completely naked over your lap, waiting for you to begin. Are you quivering inside now, afraid of the awful pain, the way I was, then? I have always wondered if you knew how vulnerable I feel at that moment, or what an effort it is to lie completely unmoving when every instinct is shouting, ‘run!’ I need wonder no longer; I can feel your heart racing inside your body, the same way mine did not too long ago.
I remember, then, you touching me, softly patting my bottom while your breathing slowed; now I realize why you always hesitate here; I thought you were trying to calm me down; now I understand how hard it was for you to spank me to tears, even though I needed it. My husband, do you know how much I love you in this moment?
My hands will show you. One gently caresses your back, the other rises above you and drives the paddle across your bottom, slowly at first, then faster and faster as I warm to my task.
I can’t help thinking that in a way we are making love right now. I am touching you, in a special place, in a very special way; you have surrendered to me your body and your will, and I too have surrendered, to our marriage and to your special need. There is complete trust between us, and mutual desire: you have asked me for this, and now I want it as much as you do.
Your spanking continues, alternating sides in an unbroken rhythm, faster and faster, so that neither side has a chance to cool off. That’s what almost made you cry last time, making those two spots hotter and hotter without any break at all. I can’t help but wonder: If I had kept going, then, would I still need to do this today?
I cannot believe how much I love you at this moment. I am in awe of your willingness to submit to the greater good of our marriage, and the trust you show me: placing yourself in my hands, sharing with me your innermost fears and needs.
Do you feel this way, when I am across your lap?
You have been so still, accepting your punishment; now your bottom takes on a life all its own, clenching, squirming with pain, your breathing becomes rapid: short intakes of breath each time the paddle hits you. I remember this part also, when I get to this point, each time you spank me, I start to wonder if I was nuts, bringing up this spanking idea. You’re still saying “sorry,” but your words are getting shorter, and your moans are getting longer. You’re not there yet.
“Breathe, honey” I don’t want you passing out from lack of oxygen. “Deep breaths; all the way in; all the way out.” I keep spanking; I don’t want that burning sensation to go away; we’re going to need it, very soon now.
My other hand, touching the small of your back, feels you lifting up from my lap as the pain mounts inside you; I can hear, from your rapid ragged breaths, how close you are coming, nearer and nearer the point where you cannot take any more, and I can see the muscles of your poor bottom quiver involuntarily as your skin gets red. You still occasionally manage to gasp out how sorry you are, but mostly you’re asking me to please stop, because it hurts so much. I can’t; I know it hurts, darling. It hurts me too, you’d never believe it right now, but I feel every one of these spanks, not on my bottom, but in my heart. Your pain will be over soon, the redness of your bottom will fade, but will my heart ever be the same?
You’re close, so close. Is this what you meant by punishment, honey? Will this help you control that temper of yours?
Just a whisper, that you love me, so soft amid your cries and moans; you’re breaking, I can feel it.
Louder this time, I hear you say you love me, and I say it back to you, trying to ease my troubled soul: “I love you, I love you.” Now I am pleading too, silently, but just as vehemently: please my love, give me your tears, I can’t take much more, please, please, I love you.
My paddle goes, almost of its own volition, to one spot, one small paddle sized place on your poor purple bottom, Crack, Crack, Crack, almost 20 times right where you sit, on that sensitive skin that you have chosen to sacrifice: for your temper, for our marriage, for me. At last, you begin to cry, sobbing first, moaning, then come the tears, those precious precious tears of your true remorse, this is the moment you promised me, when if ever you could change your behaviour, it is now.
I want this moment to last. On the other side, in the same spot, I spank you the same way, over and over again in the same spot, telling you just two things: “I love you,” and “your temper.” I would dearly love to lecture you, but right now you’re beyond understanding, so I keep it very simple: my love, and your temper.
I have done what I had to do, but I just cannot take anymore. Somehow I remember that I really am in charge, and the decision when to stop is mine. I just hold you, my face above your bottom, and my tears fall freely on your hot reddened skin. I want my tears to ease your pain; I gently very gently rub them into you, maybe it hurts but I don’t care, I want to touch you, I want to touch you there, right there, where I hurt you so badly, I want to touch you and make you feel better now, you’ve paid your price; we’re done, and now I want you better, please tell me you’ll be better, tell me you’ll be all right, I can’t stand it when you cry. Tears fall uncontrollably, from both of our eyes now, our bodies heaving in unison, our hearts beating in time as one; we are one, now; nothing will ever separate us, nothing could ever bring us closer than we are right now; then, from the depths of your tears, it is so softly said, but so clearly heard: “thank you, darling. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for being my wife.”
© Laurence 2006 |
Redhinney
Spanko
Username: Redhinney
Post Number: 272
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, February 25, 2006 - 09:18 am: |
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Laurence,
I seethat you been taing lessons from my husband. spanking without love is a no no in tis house
great story
Love can't always be seen or heard but will always be felt with your heart
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Ziggy
Advanced Spanko
Username: Ziggy
Post Number: 2602
Registered: 08-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, February 25, 2006 - 09:18 am: |
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oh that made me warm and fuzzy inside, great story Laurence, thank you so much for it.
when caught run faster then him !!
I am a TA junkie !!
Hubbie is due back home in march.................pout stomp !!!
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Laurence
New member
Username: Laurence
Post Number: 5
Registered: 02-2006
| | Posted on Friday, March 10, 2006 - 04:36 pm: |
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Thank you for your compliments; I really enjoyed writing this one. |
Apatheticdream
New member
Username: Apatheticdream
Post Number: 12
Registered: 03-2006
| | Posted on Friday, March 10, 2006 - 05:15 pm: |
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WOW. Absolutely Stunning.
N.
...I catch a brief reflection of what (I) could and might have been...
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Naughtybynature
Spanko
Username: Naughtybynature
Post Number: 120
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Monday, March 13, 2006 - 02:19 am: |
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Such a completely deep emotional story. I could feel both of there love and pain in your words.
Exceptionally written, Laurence! 
Did is a word of achievement, Won't is a word of retreat, Might is a word of bereavement, Can't is a word of defeat, Ought is a word of duty, Try is a word of each hour, Will is a word of beauty, Can is a word of power.
*(Unknown Author)
Don't take life so seriously.....it isn't permanent
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Pinkcheeks
Junior Spanko
Username: Pinkcheeks
Post Number: 170
Registered: 12-2005
| | Posted on Monday, March 13, 2006 - 11:14 am: |
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 ...incredible...the emotion is, simply,...stunning (to steal N's adjective)
A great story!!!
"Thought I WAS being a good girl...really I did!"
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