Spanking Story: Bound, Spanked, Begging

Bound First, Then The Countdown

I am Daisy, twenty-seven, and Spencer, thirty-one, tied my wrists together with soft rope in our bedroom one Friday night, not tight enough to hurt, just tight enough that I could not move my hands, and that helplessness went straight through me. He laid me face down across his lap, my dress pushed up, my panties pulled down, my bare skin exposed and already warm with anticipation, and he told me how this would work. Twenty spanks, counted out loud by me, and if I lost count, we started over. I nodded, I took a breath, and I waited for the first one, wet and nervous and completely ready.

The first spank landed with a sharp crack that made me gasp, and I counted, one, my voice shaky, my skin already stinging. The second, the third, the fourth, each one a little harder, each one making me squirm across his lap, each one making me wetter, until by ten I was counting through moans, by fifteen I was begging him not to stop, and by twenty my skin was red and hot and I was aching in a way that had nothing to do with pain. Spencer rubbed my sore skin gently, praised me for counting perfectly, and told me the spanking was only the beginning, and my heart hammered at what that meant.

Edged, Once, Twice, Three Times

He untied my wrists just long enough to move me to the bed, then tied them again, this time above my head to the headboard, so I was spread out, exposed, and completely his. Then he started edging me, with his mouth first, licking me slowly, building me up until I was right on the edge, then stopping, pulling back, telling me to breathe, to wait, to be good. I begged, I writhed against the ropes, I cursed him lovingly, and he laughed, kissed my thigh, and started again, bringing me to the edge a second time, then a third, each time stopping just before I fell over.

By the third edge, I was a mess, sweating, shaking, my voice hoarse from begging, my body straining against the ropes, and Spencer finally took pity on me, or maybe he just wanted to hear me scream. He pushed inside me, hard and deep, while my wrists were still tied above my head, and the feeling of being bound, spanked, edged, and then finally, finally filled, was so overwhelming I came almost instantly, crying out, my whole body convulsing around him. He did not stop, he kept thrusting, kept talking to me, telling me how good I looked bound and begging, until I came again, even harder.

Begging, And Getting Exactly That

After that, he untied me, rubbed my wrists where the rope had been, and kissed the red marks on my skin like they were something to be proud of. I was still shaking, still sensitive, still wanting him, and I told him so, plainly, without shame, because begging Spencer is not embarrassing, it is the whole point. He laid me on my back, spread my legs again, and spanked me lightly, playfully, between kisses, just enough to make me gasp, just enough to remind me who was in charge, before he took me again, slower this time, deeper, looking into my eyes.

Bound, Spanked, Begging, His

That night, Spencer spanked me, bound me, edged me, and took me until I could not beg anymore, until my voice was gone and my body was spent and I was lying in his arms, rope coiled on the nightstand, skin still warm, heart still racing. The next morning, I woke up with faint pink marks on my skin and a smile I could not hide, because being bound and spanked and edged by Spencer is not punishment, it is pleasure, it is trust, it is the way I like to be loved. He kissed each mark, one by one, and asked if I wanted to count again tonight, and I said yes before he had finished asking.

I still think about that countdown, twenty spanks, counted perfectly, and those three edges, stopped just in time, and the way it felt to finally be allowed to come after all that waiting. Spencer knows how to push me to the edge and hold me there, how to make me beg for something I already know he will give me, and that waiting, that begging, that bound helplessness, is what makes the release so intense. I would count to twenty again tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that, as long as he is the one holding the paddle and the rope.