You've Been a Bad Girl: How My Wife Introduced BDSM & Spanking Into Our Sex Life

He knew she had fond memories of childhood spankings, but didn't know she got off by playing a submissive schoolgirl--or that he would love dominating and punishing her so much

LInda is one woman who doesn't hold back—that's why I married her. She's not only uninhibited, free and daring, but whatever she does, she goes all the way, no holds barred. Discovery comes naturally to her, like an inner drive. 

We met in college, where she was majoring in archeology, and spending a lot of weekends digging in faraway fields. Pennsylvania, however, is not fertile ground for an archeologist, so Linda gave up her local searches soon after graduation, saving her discovering instincts for one or two trips per year. Linda has continued to uncover new earth, though—much to my pleasure.

She does so on the sexual frontier, constantly scouring Google, Pinterest, Reddit and other websites all over the internet  for new ideas and techniques. 

Being a bit of a dramatist, she introduces me to her newfound delights in surprising ways, often giving me no clue as to what's on her mind until the act itself is beginning.

This was how she baited me into her latest delight: spanking. I vaguely recall her having told brief stories from her childhood, framing her brother, making it seem as though he were the guilty party to an act she'd done, and then taking great pleasure in watching him get spanked. Her brother would know full well who'd set him up and come after Linda for his revenge. When I told Linda that her plan seemed to backfire, she'd responded by saying, “Why, that's nonsense, my brother spanked better than my father did.” 

It seems that when her brother did the spanking, he unknowingly would press his knee into Linda's clit as he forced her over his knee, a circumstance that has left Linda with fond memories of spanking.

None of this ever clued me in to the fact that Linda might still be interested in being spanked. After all, she's a grown woman now. Spanking, I now know, is something that is not necessarily outgrown—some people even grow into spanking; people like me.

My introduction to the pleasure of spanking came in typical Linda-style. 

I came home one afternoon from work, my mind bogged down from the daily pressures, to find Linda sitting shyly in the kitchen on a cane chair. 

On the tile floor by her feet was a broken glass sitting jaggedly in a thin puddle of water with the remains of some melting ice cubes floating here and there.

Linda's long brown hair hung to her knees as her face looked down. “I've been bad,” she whimpered.

The setting initially perplexed me until I began putting the pieces together. Linda was not dressed as she normally would be around the house. She wore a white blouse unbuttoned halfway down her chest along with a very short skirt. She'd also tied frilly, little-girl bows in her hair, giving her the look of an overly developed doll.

Suddenly I realized the setting was giving me a cue, so I slammed down my briefcase and took on a stern tone of voice. “Do you know how much that glass cost?”' I hollered, gesturing towards the shattered Dollar Tree water glass.

“Do you!?” I grabbed Linda roughly by the arm. “How many times have I told you to be careful around the kitchen? Huh!? How many times?''

“I don't know,” she sobbed.

FURTHER READING

“Well apparently it wasn't enough. Now, get out in the living room,” I shouted, pushing her.

The momentum of her advance lifted the short hem of her skirt, revealing that she was not wearing anything underneath. “Bend over,” I demanded, moving her toward the wide, padded arm of the sofa. 

“I'm really sorry!” 

“Bend over! And spread your legs.” She cried in weak protest as I made her straddle the armrest, with one knee pressed into the cushion, her other leg standing firm on the floor.

“I said bend over!”

Coolly, I smacked her ass with my open palm, letting the thickness of her light-colored skirt absorb some of the blow. Still, it was enough to jolt her and, obediently, she bent down, adjusting her crotch so that the sofa would press against just the right spot.

Her shoulder cringed, awaiting the next strike. This time, though, her skirt wouldn't help her. I grabbed the hem and whipped it up over her waist.

“No!” she begged. “No, no, no!"

The slap of my hand echoed through the room.

“Nuh-ooo!” she cried, jerking her ass, pressing her cunt more tightly against the armrest.

“I've told you to be more careful. Now maybe you'll remember." I slapped her ass rhythmically, reddening it brightly. I paused, letting her wonder if I'd stopped, and then hit her twice more in rapid succession.

“Stop! Stop! I'll be more careful. I promise.” She winced, moving her right hand between her legs. “I promise to” her face flushed with the pleasure of touching herself—” to be good," she sighed.

Linda opened her legs, raising her ass, so that I could see the wetness that her fingers were playing with. She was literally drenched with excitement-hotly primed from our little session of play-acting

“Just like this,” she urged. “Take me just like this."

Watching her fingers toy with her pussy, I unzipped my pants. My erection jumped hungrily from my loins, aiming precisely in the right direction.

When its head probed Linda's vaginal opening, she moaned, reaching back for me with her slickened fingers and helping me into her wet taut hole.

“Harder,” she said as I started plunging into her with escalating desire.

I obliged, keeping my eyes glued to the red marks that continued to glow across her ass as I thrust my hips against her. Her fingertips continued to work her clit, occasionally sliding across the length of my cock as it pulled in and out of her.

Her crying renewed, this time marking the approach of her climax. Her fingers pressed harder and I responded in kind, forcing my cock even farther up into her hole, concentrating on its heat and tension as I prepared to explode.

Our orgasms burst simultaneously, knocking us over into the softness of the sofa as our knees collapsed. I seem to recall Linda saying something like “Welcome home,” but the pleasure destroyed my ability to think clearly. This sort of drama beats out a homecoming martini any day.

The next time we engaged in spanking was a rainy Sunday afternoon. 

It was just after four and both of us were bored and restless. Linda, as usual, gave me my cue without warning when she knocked a dried flower arrangement from the living room coffee table with a careless swish of her foot. 

“What’re you gonna do about it?” she demanded in the voice of a very spoiled teenager.

“Go to your room!” I ordered.

“No,” she answered brazenly, arms folded around her knees, which were drawn up to her chest.

“That does it. I've had enough of your tricks this week. Stand up.”

"No."

“I said stand up!” This time I pulled her by a handful of hair.

“What are you gonna do to me? I don't care.” 

She remained defiant as I pulled her to a standing position. She was even playing the bitch when I had her pull down her pants and panties, but it all changed when she heard my belt snap free of my trousers.

“No!” she screamed, jerking around in place, her bare-assed figure darting to avoid me. Reminding her that she was only making it worse, I told her to stand still.

She wouldn't, though, and when she turned to run away, I lashed the length of my belt toward her ass and caught it sharply with a loud, stinging snap.

She yelped, lunging for the bedroom, but was unable to shut the door before I forced my way in. I grabbed her hair again and forced her down onto the bed.

Her hands reached frantically to cover her ass when my belt started pounding her.

“Be good,” I shouted, pelting her again.

The breath was drawn from her lungs so that her only reply was a faint moan of protest at the strappings of leather that were etching thick red lines across her ass. 

I kept my strikes stiff yet not too sharp; I didn't want to cross that line where pain grows unpleasant and takes away from the sexual heat of the moment. Linda's moaning continued as her hands abandoned the protection of her ass, reaching anxiously around her thighs to feel the growing heat between her legs and to kindle it there passionately.

“No!” she cried weakly, raising her ass closer to the belt. “I'll be good. Good,” she promised, fingering herself as her hips began rotating to the pulse of her massaging touches.

Fascination in watching my wife's submissive response became more important than inflicting the loving, dominating pain that had turned her on to begin with. 

Seeing her submissive to my punishment, sparkling from being spanked like a bad kid, fired me with a special kind of desire—a sexual hunger that can only grow from creative play.

This new dimension is like preparation for orgasm, because when the climax finally hits, it's tremendously overpowering.

She urged me into her, spreading her cunt with her long fingers, showing me exactly what she had in mind for my cock when she thrust two fingers up into her pussy. She crawled up onto her knees, always wanting it from behind after a good spanking, and dropped her head onto the mattress as her hands took hold of the swollen cheeks of her ass and spread them apart.

My cock was already throbbing when I dropped my pants to the floor and settled my knees between her spread legs.

She hoisted her ass even higher to slip me inside, and my push into her was the spare bedroom of our apartment.

Bedroom is a misnomer, for there is no bed. It's really a combination work/storage room. That night, it was also a playroom, as Linda instructed me to give her five minutes before joining her.

She'd been in a quiet mood, so, as usual, I had no hint as to what was coming. Even in my wildest dreams, I would not have imagined the pleasure I got.

Opening the door, I found Linda's naked body spread out across the far wall, her feet strapped down securely to the floor by leather anklets, her left wrist secured likewise to a bolt in the wall, and her entire image flickering amidst a dozen flaming candles. 

She was already begging me to stop what I hadn't even begun, panting and moaning breathlessly as she threw her long locks of hair over her naked shoulders. The fingers of her right hand were between her legs, working her clit. She was get- ting off on the mere thought of what was to come.

A clue to my role was on the floor. It was another bit of leatherwork, a sort of derivation on the riding crop yet shorter, made of softer leather, and sporting five or six wide pieces of leather to use for striking instead of a crop's one long, hard piece.

My cock sprang excitedly to life and I began to picture my own changes in the script.

I lightly crossed her flickering ass with my new toy, which felt very powerful in my grip. 

She jerked from the contact, cooing hotly, seemingly thankful at the passiveness of my initial touch.

Just as she braced for the next spanking, I grabbed her right hand out of her pussy and slapped it against the wall with her secured left wrist. Placing the strap in my mouth, I tied her right hand along with her left; now there was no way for her to stimulate herself directly.,

A cane chair, like the ones in our kitchen, sat against the wall, waiting to have its seat repaired. I put it between Linda's spread legs and belted-down ankles and let her get the idea that if she bent over slightly, her clit would be right up against the firm, smooth ridge of the chair's back. But it would mean exposing more of her ass to my peltings. To keep it all in perspective for her, my second blow to her ass was very hot.

It stung her more than any of our other spankings, I knew, because she fell against the wall, withdrawing her ass as she thrust her loins forward, breathing rapidly from the hard snap of leather.

Gradually, her ass worked its way back toward me until it was extended even more than it had been originally.

The fact that Linda was totally powerless to avoid the oncoming blows increased all of spanking's usual fascination. That's what Linda must have been thinking as her ass waved at me, inviting more of the strap.

The smooth, hard surface of the chair wasn't forgotten either, and as she settled her pussy over it, memories of her brother's vengeful knee must have been sparked in her mind. I let her find a groove, pressing against the wood, before striking her buttocks  a third time.

The rapid sequence of the leather straps touching down pulled another breathless cry

from Linda's lungs as she lurched forward again. Her ass came back for more, however, as her pussy again found its place to rub on the chair back.

Letting her get well into it, I could see the smoothness of the chair glistening with the moisture that her pussy left behind as it passed back and forth over the ridge of wood. 

Then, as her moans increased significantly, I spanked her.

She jerked reflexively, but kept her glistening sex pressed firmly against the chair. She stroked determinedly now, her ass thrust toward me, her back arching as her wrists and arms strained in their binds. Her leg muscles tensed powerfully, weighing down her rubbing cunt.

Another spank bit her ass and then another, but she wouldn't come off the chair. She alternately gasped and moaned as the contrasting sensations of the spankings and the pleasant push of the chair against her pussy fired through her.

She humped over the chair, shifting its position as she responded to my blows, her body jerking and her hair thrashing around her flushed face.

“Faster, faster!” she cried, starting to come. Her pussy sat down hard on the chair's edge, letting it split her lips apart as it threw life into her clit. Her ass was glowing and wanting more—as much and as quickly as I could deliver.

The air came alive with the sound of the strap whistling through empty space and then crackling down onto bare flesh.  Linda's moans and groans of pleasure and pain were there too, and as long as they were, I kept spanking. 

The candlelight flickered and the lightning outside cracked in unison with my whip. Linda's pussy couldn't get enough of the hard wood that took her close to the edge of an orgasm and hung her there, on that very tip, the needle's edge between coming and not, and toyed with her. We were both becoming exhausted, but we continued.

Finally Linda came. Her urgent cries of pleasure/pain flooded out, replaced by a pervasive fulfillment never before felt. 

As she slowly quieted, I leaned over her outstretched form and rested my palms against her ass, so hot now to the touch.

She asked me if I wanted to come as soon as she had the wind to help me. I was too tired, too burned-out even to want an orgasm, which surprised me until I became more aware of my own body and the warm stickiness that ran down my left leg. I'd actually come in my pants! How long had it been since I'd been that turned on? I couldn't remember.

Linda and I have continued to use spanking as a regular supplement to our sexual menu. It makes for something very tantalizing, like adding a hot sauce to an everyday meal.

Spanking is only one way to flavor sex and, like all the others, it came from Linda's uninhibited urges to explore. The ability to let out all the stops and go where your mind loves to in those hornier moments is a real asset to being sexually alive.

With anyone else, I might have been embarrassed to admit that the thought of spanking someone turned me on, which is ridiculous when I realize how much pleasure I get from spanking and how much Linda enjoys being spanked. I like to think that my sense of adventure helps Linda's discoveries, because without a helping partner the newfound joys can be only good fantasy, not thrilling reality. Besides, the sexual hunting season is always open. And you don't even need a license to hunt and capture the ultimate sexual pleasure, be it spanking or anything else in the world of sexual thrills. 

All you need is desire.


Harry D Somers

Harry D. Somers

Harry D. Somers is the editor and founder of Fresh Materials. Based in Miami Florida, he's the kinky, bisexual, horny, sex-positive blogger behind FM's articles, tutorials, and toy reviews.

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