In my next post I will tell you more about myself.
Anyway, All the whipping I have ever received, shaped my thoughts and made me have a thing for spanking. In the household i Used to work in, corporal punishment was used but I never once saw myself as an adult being whipped. I tried to avoid anything that would lead to a punishment. But as fate would have it, I would be whipped sooner than later.
One of my worst humiliating whipping was when I was 25 and working at a local farm owned by some wealthy middle aged couple.
I was sent to go fetch the strap. And in my thinking I was like, "really, am I not too old to be beaten?" I had just lost my temper and called the woman a hoe.
She silently took the strap from me and ordered me to bend forward across the side of the settee. This was a slight distance from the others, for which I was grateful, but the position was still humiliating, my face and breasts pressed against cushions. Still silent, her expression stern, the Mistress lifted my skirt and bade me to hold it in place, awkward as this was, my arms reaching behind me to press it against my back.
Then the Mistress began to disrobe me, pulling down my bloomers and knickers until only my bare flesh was exposed. My face smarted with shame and tears as I heard the Master approach, quietly asking, "Is this really necessary, my dear?" I held my breath. Could he save me? Would he save me?
"It is absolutely necessary," responded my Mistress. "We cannot allow such recklessness to go unpunished, and she shall be all the better for it, you will see. Having it in front of our guests will only enhance the punishment," she added coyly, "and besides, they might find it amusing."
Her husband shrugged. "Well, you know I leave household affairs for you to run as you see fit," he said, and then returned to the others, conferring with them with soft tones. All three soon sat back down and waited, watching. I could feel their eyes on me, though I dared not turn my head. I could see the Husband most clearly, and he did not appear the least put out by my predicament; he appeared almost jovial, in fact, and rather pleased.
Meantime I lay sprawled in shame across the sofa arm, my naked buttocks and legs exposed for everyone, the Mistress standing tall and dark and fearsome beside me, the deadly leather strap in her hand as she smiled at me, caressing my butt cheeks with it softly.
With that, I knew I was doomed. There was no way I was going to get away with a few token strokes to appease her guests or her own evil desires. No, I would be taken the full distance, given a long, thorough whipping that I would not fail to remember for days.
My face was turned away from the fire, and so partially concealed in the gloomy room, and I licked my dry lips and waited. The first stroke took my breath away. It was so sharp, such a fine, thin pain, that I was surprised. The strap appeared to be quite wide and thick, and yet the pain was very focused, precise. Again came the strap, this time causing me to suck air into my mouth with a sharp hiss. I could feel the twin bands of heat across my buttocks, both cheeks vibrating slightly with the impact of the blows. The pain made me suddenly very conscious of my bottom: the delicate curves of plump flesh, the slender crack between my cheeks, and dark secrets buried beneath.
I quivered with the next few blows, amazed at the sting. Tears filled my eyes and I could not help crying. The strokes seemed to get harder now, and faster, and my whole bottom seemed to be burning with pain. I wiggled and writhed as the whipping continued, no longer caring much what the men saw between my legs. So they would watch me dance. Would they see anything they had not seen already?
I was horrified and ashamed, of course, but a naughty part of me felt rather evilly delighted. I could feel a dampness growing between my legs as I thought of them watching, and when the strap struck me I is gasped for air and lost chain of my thoughts
The Mistress had carefully laid parallel stripes full across both cheeks, so now she concentrated on unpunished areas, actually bringing the strap upward to strike at the base of my rump.
After a ten or so strokes of this she began working on my legs, striping my thighs all around.
The strap was furious now, lashing down again and again at lightning speed, my bottom churning in the air as I groveled with my face in the cushions and begged for mercy. I finally began to cry out loud, weeping and begging the Mistress to stop. This seemed to please her, and after a few more cruel lashes, she stopped. I collapsed on the couch for a moment, but then she ordered me to my feet. I was humiliated and in tears.
I pulled up my drawers and gingerly walked to the kitchen where Anna , my friend maid hugged me closely and told me it would be okay. I began having spanking fantasies so that i would forget such moments.
The Mistress also got whipped often, and from then I hated her and never had any mercy when her ass was walloped.