I’m a big ole spanko. Floggers, crops, a dragon tail, paddles – all are a part of our arsenal. Ass up, head down; on all fours; bent over the bed; and especially over-the-knee are all welcome. Lordy, is it gettin’ hot in here??
Birthday spankings aren’t limited to just my own birthday. The best birthday present I give John Brownstone every year is the opportunity for him to give (and me to receive) his birthday spankings – 53 as of his last birthday.
All but one birthday spanking in the past two years have been over his knee and bare-handed – my personal favorite.
“Assume the position, girl.”
A warm flush spreads over my entire body. My very naked body. I position myself – knees on the mattress, thighs pressed against his legs. My torso covers his lap. My hands brace against the bed on the other side, my nipples tightening against the comforter.
Moisture pools between my thighs. I can feel my body become warmer. There’s a moment of doubt, of hesitation. Will I be able to take whatever he gives?
The first few smacks warm up my bottom. Each one becomes a bit harder and is punctuated with gentle, soothing strokes. The next moments are often fast and furious, but I don’t notice because my mind is flying free.
For birthdays, I must keep count and the counting alone is slightly hypnotic. My voice becomes softer over time.
Until the end. The last four or six strikes count – and they hurt. They also make me wet and hot. He has this innate ability to land in the exact same spot each time until I’m writhing on his lap, crying out the count, desperate for it to stop, but dreading the moment it does.
At the end, there are hugs, kisses, cuddles, and a giggly “Happy birthday” from me as I wish that birthdays came around more often.