Doc’s comments
When I spank women it is almost always for their satisfaction more than for mine. Even when I’m administering a hard punishment, it’s usually because the woman wants it, needs it, craves it.
This punishment – the paddling I gave Steph – was out of the ordinary. I knew she would be glad for me to do exactly what I wanted to her. And I decided to go ahead and paddle her purely for my pleasure, with no regard to whether it was right for her or not. I knew that she might be glad (in hindsight only!) to be punished like this, and I was hoping that would be true, but it was not a sure bet. I didn’t check in with her during the scene, I didn’t give her a safeword and when she demanded one I rejected her request, I made no effort to be reasonable.
Instead I focused on paddling her as long and as hard as I knew how. It was wonderful for me.
Thank you, Steph, for your courage, and for giving me so much pleasure.
--Doc
Steph’s comments
Thank you Doc! I had such an amazing weekend with you.
The paddling was beyond anything I expected, in terms of pain. I am very happy about it.
I have been spanked by you Doc, time and again. It has all encompassed the most transforming period of my life. We have gone through the spectrum of intensity of spankings. This prism has reflected light in so many different directions and so many different corners of myself, lighting things that had been shrouded by darkness for far too long.
We had some conversation, weeks ago, about nonconsensuality, about what that meant, about how dangerous the fringes of that idea could potentially be. "......this can become fuzzy, when you are forcing me, and I am literally, seemingly, or really seriously objecting. Screaming, begging, demanding, getting angry about what you are doing."
I was expecting a real punishment. You have hinted for some time that you were going to hurt me. Given our history with my agony, I knew what that meant.
You have held me up before, and dangled me over this pool of pain. You have never dropped me in, and let me swim in this water that is infested with my despair, beyond what I could tolerate.
You did that this time. I couldn't swim. I struggled.
I have always believed, as many people do, that real punishments come when you either don't really expect them or don't want them. That is the only way they can be true punishments, true agonizing, punishments that your body actually rejects and that, in the moment, you genuinely do not want.
I didn't want this punishment, Doc. I had to be dragged there, down the dark steps of the castle to the dark dungeon, where unspeakable things happen. Where you find out the real difference between spanking and punishment and that they are separated by a broad land.
You put a pile of paddles on the floor, there were probably 7 or 8 of them, and told me that I could put 3 back into the suitcase. The bathbrush went back immediately. I also tossed the small paddle with the holes.
Then I agonized over whether to put back the Melissa paddle. For as much distress as that paddle has inflicted on my hide, that should have been an easy decision. After careful thought, I left that piece of wood and returned the small, black paddle. My push-pull relationship with the Melissa paddle continued.
You didn't even use the Melissa. My undoing would be the sorority paddle and the viper tawse.
When I was over your lap - the nice, easy part of the spanking was lovely, as always, and short-lived, not as always. Even that plastic, pink paddle was too much. I was feeling sensitive, because my fear drew my blood to the surface. During that spanking over your knee, I decided it was over. I was serious. I was done. I objected to the whole thing! You would have none of it.
I felt your cool presence as you tied me over the wedge. There is a warm Doc, and there is a cool Doc, one who presents himself when the sadism sets in and takes control. I could sense my impending doom.
You showed me what a nice guy you can be by giving me a 30 second warm up with your hand. Thank you, that brought the blood back to the surface, saving the potential shock of the blows. I am giggling right before this starts, because the nervousness has built to a crescendo that I can't contain.
When you started spanking me with the sorority paddle, the first 7 or 8 swats didn't hurt all that much. I was hoping that this was the way it was to be.... a nice, fun spanking after all!!
My fear subsided somewhat - oh, so prematurely.
When it started to hurt, I wanted it to stop. I was demanding, because I didn't want to be hurt, and I really didn't want a punishment and couldn't think of a way to make you understand this.
Then, in the process of demanding. You said some words that you have never before spoken to me. Ever.
You said, "I am going to hurt you more than I have ever hurt you before."
Those words would have been enough – but more than the words was the tone that you used to speak them. A chill went from the top of my spine to my tailbone.
Then you began paddling me with the fervor of a man who is possessed with a focus of suffering. A man who was not going to stop at "it hurts too much". A man who was going to drop me into the wavy waters of masochism and not lightly pluck me back out.
I was being punished as I had never been punished before, and there were no giggles left in me. I was terrified that you meant this and it was real.
At this point, when you checked my bottom, I was still in familiar territory. I was still within the historical bounds of what we had experienced.
The bounds were this. You had spanked me before, until I was angry, but never beyond that. Those bounds started to melt, and I asked you for a safeword.
I couldn't take anymore. At least I knew that at this point you would be stopping soon. I took some comfort in that. When you didn't stop, I held onto the bar in the roller coaster cart and looked at the big drop I ahead. I was filled with terror, but also with a strange, consuming sense of excitement that it was going to continue. I cried the whole way down.
Later that evening, I told you that I was through being paddled and I didn't even know if I ever wanted it again. That began to fade the very next day. Now, three days later, the memory is still harrowing to me and hearing the sound file makes me feel emotional. And.... most importantly, I do want it again, sometime.....
You are a brave man to be
able to weather that kind of sobbing and not feel compelled to stop. When you
listen with sadistic ears, it sounds differently. Thank you for not stopping,
thank you for denying my begging, and thank you for dragging me to a place that
I have wanted to go for far too long, but have lacked the courage.
I will never again say that I am not a masochist, because, this was clearly a
nirvana for me. This may sound like a contradiction of my feelings during the
spanking, but let me explain.....
The reason it was a nirvana for me is that it was so unbearable at the time. A
masochist's ultimate dream is to be punished with no control, no mercy, no way
out, pure agony..... well, for me anyway, that is a dream. Was a dream.... now
it is a reality. Thank you!!
Kisses.
steph