Phillip and I had been spanking regularly for many months. This was before the Internet. I had no knowledge of spanking organizations or safe words or any of the other things that are pretty much common knowledge now. We had a simple spanking relationship. He was in charge. But I asked early on, and he agreed, that he would never use a hairbrush or a wooden paddle. He always started with a hand spanking then normally switched to a leather paddle, strap or his belt. But he also caned me sometimes. We both wound up turned on and we always had sex afterward.
He used to tell me that the strap he used and the cane were as painful as the paddle or hairbrush would be, so why wouldn't I let him use them? I finally told him that I just hated the idea for some reason and shared the story of Dan's spanking all those years before. I told him how Dan had screamed and sobbed and begged and how humiliating it would be. At this point he said I was being ridiculous. I countered that the implements he used were sufficient and we didn't need any others.
Impasse.
Phillip had a weekend retreat. It was isolated and offered us complete privacy. We spent many weekends relaxing in front of the fireplace there, and both of us enjoyed it. Those weekends always included spanking. I felt completely relaxed and safe when I was there. He had always respected my wishes concerning the implements. I had no reason to suspect that he wouldn't continue to do so.
Phillip drank more than usual one Saturday evening. Perhaps I should have suspected something, but I didn't. His drinking was somewhat of an issue with us, but I thought he had probably just had a more stressful day than normal. That evening's spanking started with his normal hand spanking, then he said he wanted to tie my hands. He did that sometimes, so I wasn't alarmed. But instead of bringing out the leather paddle he used so often, he got a wooden one that he had brought in without my knowledge. At first I was angry, but not panicky. I remember that the paddle seemed to hurt more than the leather one, but I was handling it. Then he picked up a hairbrush. I don't know why, but at this point the unconscious took over. I got really scared and told him to stop and untie me.
Stopping was the last thing on his mind. He used that hairbrush steadily and quickly for five minutes. I know how long it lasted because he told me he was going to spank me for five minutes and he timed it. I don't know how many blows he delivered. Four hundred. Five hundred, maybe. I was absolutely hysterical. The pain was incredible. But it wasn't just the pain, which was much worse than our normal spankings. I was literally terrified. When he finally stopped and untied me, he thought I would go immediately into his arms, like always. Instead I curled up into a ball in the corner and just sobbed. I screamed every time he tried to touch me. When he finally left the room, I managed to get onto my hands and knees and crawled to the door, which I locked. I think by this time he was regretting the incident. I managed to put on my nightgown and finally cried myself to sleep.
In the morning I had to unlock the door to get to the bathroom. I was so bruised that I had difficulty walking and barely made the trip. When he saw the result of his little experiment, the awful condition of my bottom and tops of my thighs, and that I was still afraid of him, he took the paddle and brush and threw them into the fireplace. I told him I hoped he enjoyed the spanking because that was the last time he was ever going to touch me. And it was.
Doc, in my mind Phillip betrayed my trust. I believe he wanted to use both a wooden paddle and hairbrush just to prove that he was in charge and could do what he pleased. I also think he deliberately set out to break through my reserve and make me cry. I used to get a bit teary-eyed at times when he spanked me, but he had never caused me to lose my composure and cry out loud or sob. I think the idea of that excited him.
I could barely walk for days and missed over a week of work. Besides abusing me physically, I felt completely humiliated. For someone with my mind set, that total loss of control was as traumatic as the spanking, especially since I knew it had been done deliberately for no other reason than to humiliate me. I could barely stand to look at him. He drove me home, trying to talk to me, trying to apologize. I made no reply, but made the hour-long trip in silence. Afterward, he kept calling and knocking on my apartment door, but I refused to speak to him.