It Was Her 44th Birthday But He Got the Spankings
Her 44th birthday was coming up, and it fell on one of my off days, and I was prepared to do anything she wanted, but every time I asked her, she remained coy about her desires or plans.
So, the morning of, after some fine lovemaking, we got out of bed, and were seated in the living room, sipping coffee, and again I asked, “So, are you ready yet to tell me what you want to do today?”
She smiled, and said, “I want to give YOU a spanking, that we’ll both remember until my next birthday.
I gulped, thinking about some spankings I’ve gotten from her that I still remember quite well and whispered, “If that is your wish….”
So, we got ready. Which meant, I got myself naked, while she got herself situated in the spanking chair, and I knelt over her lap. She set a timer for four minutes and 4 seconds, and proceeded to smack my buttocks with the foot-long hard wood Spencer-style paddle, as I moaned, and grunted, until the timer sounded.
She stopped and said, “Get up, and mount the spanking bench.”
I did, and she came up behind me with the solid bamboo two foot long “zombie killer” paddle, and said, “Guess how many? Count ’em.”
I counted 44 swats while gasping and groaning.
She said, “To the bed… FDAU, thighs closed.”
I went to the bed, got up on it, face down, ass up, with my legs closed and feet just dangling over the edge.
She came in, carrying the long bamboo cane, and landed 44 strokes, from the back of my knees to the top of my buttocks, then back down again, as I shrieked and counted.
“Diaper position, legs spread,” she ordered.
I rolled over onto my back, lifted my spread legs, holding my knees in my hands, and she pushed a pillow under my lower back to prop up my buttocks even more, and picked up the heavy wooden spoon and landed 44 smacks to my buttocks, inner cheeks, my taint, and the backs of my thighs, and I counted and gasped.
“So, that’s four sets … I’m not going to administer forty four sets, that would take too long, and you wouldn’t have any skin left… so, just four more, after a break of, say, 44 minutes.”
She sat at her computer during the break, and I … kinda stood around.
Her alarm sounded, and she said, “On the table, face down, prone, legs together, arms extended straight above your head.” I mounted the table, and she brought out the leather tawse, and said, “Begin.”
I counted 44 strokes of two-fingered leather across my buttocks and backs of my thighs, and I moaned loudly while counting.
“Scoot down the table, get your feet on the floor, bend over the table, fold your arms, put your head in your arms.”
Once I was ready, she produced the dark wood paddle, and said, “Begin.”
44 swats landed across my buttocks, and I groaned and counted.
“Bend over the back of the spanking chair, put your hands on the seat.”
I bent, and she produced the short Delrin cane, and applied 44 swats to my sit spot, as I wiggled and howled and counted.
“So … how to finish … hmmm… well, just as we started,” and she sat down in the chair.
I saw the red hard plastic “waffle maker” paddle in her hand, so called by her because of the design it leaves on pale flesh, and I sighed and bent over her lap. She applied 44 smacks to my thighs, sit spot, lower buttocks, and … by the 20th, I was sobbing … and sobbed all the way through 44.
She stopped and said, “Off me, on your knees in front of me.”
I knelt, and she put her arms around me and held me in close, and murmured, “Happy birthday to ME …. and I already have plans for YOUR birthday, in a few months.”
“Ohhhhhhhh…” was all I could reply.
“So, while you’re down there, ” she started, and she lifted her bottom, and pulled down her panties, all she had been wearing along with a t-shirt, and she sat down and spread her legs, while shifting her bottom to the edge of the chair, “I’m not sure if I want forty-four seconds or forty-four minutes. Get started, and I’ll let you know.”
I scooted in, between her legs, and my head and mouth moved in to her open crotch, my tongue began moving up and down her labia, and up to the top of the slit, and darted in and out there, as she moaned and sighed, and her hand went to the top of my head, pulled me in tight, almost so that I couldn’t breathe.
After, oh, less than a minutes, she released me, while gasping, barely able to say, “That will do….for now. Ohhh… So, I’m going to relax a bit. Go, sit in the corner over there, on your knees, hands on your head, for, let’s say, 44 minutes, but don’t hold me to that, if I fall asleep, you still have to wait until I call you to come out.”
I went to corner, knelt, and … waited.
After forty-four minutes, she said, “Get up, and get on the bench.”
I got my complaining bones and muscles to move, and stood up, and saw in her hand the red enema bag.
It was a two-quart bag, but it didn’t look bulging full.
“You look like you’re wondering; this is 44 ounces.”
I got on the bench.
She inserted the double Bardex nozzle into my anus, and inflated both balloons, and said, “I’m starting the timer now,” then she opened the valve to start the flow.
I moaned as the water filled my belly, and groaned very loud as I realized that I was meant to hold this for 44 minutes.
After 42 minutes, she said, “Get up, and I’ll carry the bag to the bathroom, while you retain the nozzle. But, don’t open the valves on the balloons til I say.”
Gasping in pain from the cramps, I got off the bench, and went to the bathroom, with her behind me.
I stood perched over the toilet, and waited, with fingers on the valves.
She said, “And … now.”
I open the valves on the balloons, and the nozzle slid out quickly into the toilet, under pressure from the what was coming out behind it.
Smirking, she walked away, leaving me alone to clean up.
I came out of the bathroom, and saw her standing next to the bench with her strap-on around her waist.
She smiled, and motioned to the bench.
I mounted it, and she said, “So, four minutes and four seconds or forty four minutes, what shall it be? I’m going to … flip a coin.”