by David McKnight
When I woke up this morning, my twenty-year-old bottom was so sore it was hard to get out of bed. Just walking to the bathroom was an exercise in agony. After showering, I returned to the bedroom I share with John McKnight. I examined my hiney in the full-length mirror and couldn't believe how red and purple my ass was. John, my lover and the owner of the West Texas ranch where I work, gave me one of the harshest spankings of my young life last night. And all because of a little money, weed, and X.
John has spanked me many times in the two years we've been together, both punishment spankings and sexually charged erotic spankings. A punishment spanking from him usually starts with me being stripped of my clothes and thrown over his lap. All spankings are on the bare and they usually begin and end with a hand spanking with one or more implements between. A hand spanking from John hurts as much as a paddle spanking from someone else because his hand is as hard as wood. I always try to count the swats but invariably lose track around forty or fifty because the growing pain fills my mind and erases all thoughts. The spanking goes on as I beg, "Ouch, isn't that enough, John? I'm so sorry for what I did. Please stop. I'll try to do better. Ouch, ouch, my butt is on fire."
I should know by now that nothing I say will have any effect on the spanking, but I can't stop myself from trying every time. I'm helpless and defenseless so my voice is the only way I can express myself. I'm always crying after the first minute of the spanking no matter how hard I try to hold back my tears. After pleading during the next few minutes, I eventually lose my breath from sobbing and become almost unable to speak.
Yesterday afternoon was no different. He gave me a hard hand spanking in his office while nude and over his knees until I could hardly breathe and went limp in his lap. There was no more begging or struggling as I gave up control of my body to him and just suffered his discipline. Finally, he stopped and began to rub my sore bottom. I realized the first part of my spanking was over and wondered what he had in store for me next.
"That's the beginning of your punishment spanking, Anne. Are you sure you want me to continue?" John asked.
"Yes, sir," I sobbed.
He continued to rub my behind until I was able to stop crying and compose myself. He then gave me fifteen minutes corner time while he talked on the phone. I was sure glad no one came to his office while I was showing by bare butt. When he hung up the phone, he commanded me to bend over the armrest of the couch. This allowed me to rest my upper body on the seat of the sofa while projecting my butt into the air at a perfect angle for spanking. I saw out of the corner of my eye that he picked up a long, thick leather strap. I grimaced inwardly and outwardly at the sight of this dreaded implement, which was one of his favorites but one of my least favorites.
He began to strap me with no delay using hard full-strength swats from the very beginning. Even after a nice break, my ass was already so sore from the hand spanking that even the first stroke of the strap quickly got my attention. The pain was horrible as it left a wide stripe of fire across the cheeks of my bottom. He waited about ten seconds between swats to allow me to feel the full extent of the pain before the next one descended. He started near the top of my crack and slowly worked his way down. When he reached my sit spot, I screamed and begged him to stop. He gave me five or six in that exact same spot before continuing down my thighs.
The pain of the strokes on the back of my legs is hard to imagine. On those tender areas of my body, the strap immediately caused welts to form. I knew that kicking and putting my hands back would just cause extra swats so I crossed my ankles and put my hands under my stomach. I think he strapped me about two dozen times altogether but I lost count near the end. I know from experience that my legs will be sore for hours and that sitting will be painful for even longer.
After putting away the strap, he helped me to stand and then hugged me tightly to his chest. "I love you little girl and am sorry I have to do this. I've spanked you this hard a couple of times for serious offenses but I have to continue because of what you did this time. Do you want me to keep going or do you want to suffer the other consequence?"
I didn't want to leave the ranch so I softly replied, "Keep going."
"Your choice," he reminded me. "Go stand in the corner while I get us something to drink."
I went to the corner again but wasn't as lucky this time. After John left, I heard the office door open. I was too embarrassed to turn around and see whom it was and after a short while, they left without saying anything. I was feeling better by the time John returned with a cold Dr. Pepper. He let me leave the corner and rub my bottom as much as I wanted to while we drank the sodas.
By the time I finished the drink, my butt started feeling halfway normal and I began praying that he wouldn't paddle me next. My prayers went unanswered as he picked up a small wooden paddle and told me to stand against the wall. I contemplated standing the wrong way and making him correct me in order to give me more time to prepare. However, I knew this would probably add to the paddling so I assumed the position that I knew he wanted. I stood about two feet away from the wall with my legs apart, placed my hands on the wall at about waist height, bent over with my head below the level of my hands, and arched my back. It's a most humiliating and vulnerable position.
"Well done, Anne," he said, "I'm going to reduce the count from twelve to ten since you got into position so perfectly."
"Thank you sir," I replied. I actually thanked him!
John always paddles me in the same way. He strikes the center of each ass cheek alternately. The paddle is so hard and his swings so strong that the swats soon leave red marks in a bull's eye pattern on each side. For some reason he always starts on the right and makes me count them out loud. I tried to prepare myself because I knew if I flinched, the swat wouldn't count. Holding still for the paddle after another spanking is one of the most difficult tasks I know. After remaining motionless in this position for a few moments, an explosion went off on the right side of my behind. "One!" I shouted.
A few seconds later, the explosion was on the left side. "Two," I cried out as the tears started flowing again. This continued until I screamed, "Ten."
My behind felt like it was swollen up to twice its normal size. The pain just kept coming in waves as I was forced to remain in this position for at least ten minutes. My arms and legs started trembling by the time John sat down and patted his knee. I glanced back at my butt cheeks and saw purple bruises in the center. "Please, John, you've spanked me much harder than normal. Please don't spank me anymore."
"There's just another hand spanking to finish you off. You don't want to stop now, do you?" he answered.
"No, sir. Let's get this over."
He patted his knee again so I slowly and painfully walked over to him and bent across his lap. He rubbed my ass and lectured me for several minutes on what behaviors of mine caused such a severe spanking. I understood why he was spanking me but still thought he was being too harsh this time.
The second hand spanking didn't last as long as the first one and wasn't as hard. He concentrated on my thighs, the top of my ass, and the outside of my hips instead of the area he had paddled. Before he was done, I felt like I had cried all the tears I had in me. We cuddled for a long time when the spanking was over. Afterwards, he made me remain in the nude the rest of the day as I did my chores and so almost everyone that worked in the ranch house got a good look at my battered behind before the day was over. When we made love that night, I insisted on staying on top and then slept on my stomach very fitfully.
That all happened yesterday. Today is Wednesday, the day four of us drive into town to buy food and supplies. I took a pillow with me but the ten-minute ride over rough roads was still excruciating. During the ride, a brainstorm came to me. Yesterday's spanking was so severe that I decided to report John to the sheriff.
I went into the large Wal-Mart with the other employees but after just a few minutes, I slipped out and headed for the sheriff's office. I didn't grow up in West Texas but I figured that any law enforcement officer would agree that I had been physically assaulted. I didn't want them to arrest or even fine John but just warn him that he couldn't be that harsh with me in the future.
When I entered the office, there was a bored looking officer sitting behind a high counter. I thought his name was Jimmy King but I wasn't sure. He perked right up when I walked in and gave me a huge smile as he said, "Good morning, Miss Anne. What can I do for you?"
I asked, "If someone wants to report a crime, do they tell you or the sheriff?"
"Well now, they need to tell me first so I can open a case file and write up the report on this here brand new computer. Then we call out Sheriff Williams and explain to him what happened. Do you need to report a crime?"
"Yes, I do." I took a deep breath and then blurted out, "John McKnight assaulted me yesterday."
Deputy King sat there with his mouth open for what seemed like a full minute before he finally closed it and started typing. He kept looking back at me as if he couldn't believe what I had said.
"Don't you work out at the McKnight ranch?" he asked after a while.
"Yes, I do. John is my boss." I didn't tell him that John was also my lover since that was none of his business.
"That's what I thought. Ok, tell me what happened and talk slowly so I can type it on this initial statement form."
I thought for a moment and then answered, "Yesterday afternoon, John called me into his office and hit me so hard he left bruises."
"So this was physical assault not sexual assault?"
"Oh, yes," I hurriedly answered. "There was nothing sexual about it this time."
"I see. And what did he hit you with?"
"He used his hand at first, then a thick strip of leather, then a piece of wood, and then his hand some more."
"Did he use his fist?"
"No, he just used his open hand like you do when you slap someone."
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