Corporal Punishment & Tears
Tears have always intrigued me.
Those who know me know that I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, and learned as a child how *not* to cry.
As an adult, since I’ve begun to develop my interest in spanking and other activities, I have tried to un-learn that. To learn how to cry again. To learn how to break someone down, and to make a grown man cry.
To me, when a man submits to a woman, it’s a completely different experience than when the man is the dominant.
There is something so beautiful about a man giving up control to a woman. I
learned Sunday what it’s like to break a grown man, and to make him cry.
My head is still spinning.
I’ve known this person for about four months.
We met at a spanking party. He’s a top, and comes to the parties with his wife. We’d played a couple of times at parties, always playfully. At parties, my dance card is always full, and by the time he would get around to me, I was already well-toasted. One weekend, he found an excuse to pass through my town, and so he asked if we could do a longer session. I agreed.
It went well. Very well. We chatted for awhile beforehand, and even some during. I asked him to pin my legs down and paddle me *hard.* He delivered. I was pretty sore.
Then afterwards, we went downstairs and sat and talked some more. He told me ‘then’ that he had needed a punishment spanking. Just one. He doesn’t consider himself a switch, and never will. He felt that he deserved this one.
He told me *why* he felt that he deserved this spanking, and I agreed with him that he had it coming.
But we didn’t have time that day.
We agreed that we wouldn’t do it in a party setting, but the next time he had a chance to pass through town.
Well, as it turned out, an opportunity arose for me to visit *him,* and to stay at his house.
Suddenly, he became very nervous.
But I was nervous, too.
I first wanted to talk to his wife, to see what she thought about it, and to find out more about the *why* he felt he deserved this spanking. She and I e-mailed one another for a week, and taunted him a bit. He was going to be gone Friday and Saturday while I was in town, and his spanking would come on Sunday morning.
I have given punishment spankings before. Mostly because someone was mouthy, or decided not to cooperate during a scene. While I still owe a few punishment spankings to some who may read this, I’ve never had such a *real* reason to punish. A friend’s feelings were hurt, the offense was pretty serious. He had some unresolved guilt, I had no idea beforehand just how much.
The night before his spanking, I took him to a party at a pro-domme’s dungeon.
If you’re ever looking for the perfect torment the night before a spanking, this is it.
He had never seen some of the things he was forced to watch that night, and it was great fun to watch the expressions on his face, and to watch him worry.
Sunday morning finally came.
I woke up early, and then went back to bed. I was tired.
Finally, I decided it was time to get up and get this over with. I had never talked quite so much about a punishment spanking before. I like to talk through long scenes, but not punishments. The way I feel about punishments is that you will take what I want to give, I don’t really care what you want or expect, you’re not supposed to like this.
But, he had never, *ever,* bottomed before, so I had my concerns about spanking him as hard as he admitted he wanted me to spank him. If someone admits that they need a real spanking, one that might make them cry, well, to me that’s a sign that it’s well-deserved and that that’s exactly what they should get.
Of course, I’ve felt this way for a long time.
I’ve *always* thought about punishment spankings. They’re sort of an obsession of mine. Along with tears.
Real men don’t cry, or so I’ve been told before. Well, when you submit to me, I guess you’re no longer a real man, but *my* man for awhile. And you’ll do what I want. Even if what I want is to see you cry.
I wanted him to cry.
I wanted this top to realize that what he had done was wrong, and to never, ever want to find himself in this position again. I wanted to warm him up, to let him adjust, and then to teach him a lesson.
While I was waking up, he brought in my toybag from my car.
I was accused later of packing a 70lb toybag for the occasion, and I had left half of my stuff at home.
He also brought ice upstairs. Whether he intended for me to use it to make the spanking worse, or for me to soothe him with afterward, I don’t know. He brought me something to drink, and I got up.
I took a few toys out of my bag: hairbrush, bathbrush, a horrible little toy I call a boat oar, a loopy johnny, and I went through his toys in the closet to get his prison strap.
After laying out the spanking implements, I dug through my bag (okay, my bag isn’t always organized) and took out my restraints. And my gag.
He had asked me to tie him and I had said I might gag him, as he thought that he wouldn’t be able to take the kind of spanking that I had told him he would get.
I told him before I started, that the restraints are here. I will use them if I need to, but I want you to take this on your own. If I have to tie you, I will, but it will be far worse for you. I didn’t have to pick up the restraints.
He told me beforehand, besides worried about his low pain tolerance, that he was worried about his erection, and being embarrassed. I told him not to worry, it won’t last long. He didn’t believe me.
He does now.
I sat against the headboard at first, with him over my lap.
I was kind, and gave him a warm-up, which he liked. I didn’t strip him, I even started over his shorts, then his underwear, then bare. When I started with the hairbrush, then the boat oar, he started squirming, and a lot. I threatened to restrain him. I told him he had to lay still.
I enjoyed watching him try so hard to lay still.
I knew it was hurting him already, and we had so long to go.
A couple of times, he went backwards, onto his knees beside the bed, and he was hit too high. I told him he really needed to lay still if he wanted to be over my lap. When he started to go forward too, I made him change positions.
I had him lay face down on the bed, and head at the foot of the bed, and gave him a pillow to bury his head in.
I picked up the loopy johnny. (if you don’t know what this is, it’s a small, lightweight toy’ 3 loops of thin rubber, each about 8″ long. Wicked)
His bottom was starting to turn really red, and purple in spots, so I threw my bathbrush back into my bag. I didn’t need to use it. It bruises a lot more than some of my other toys. The loopy stings, stripes, but doesn’t bruise.
Rubber produces a different kind of sting. A less manageable one, I think, even for experienced bottoms. He started to move, and to cry out. I pinned his legs down, by sitting on them. I began to hit him vertically, instead of horizontally. He was bucking, and at one point, he raised up so much that I thought for a moment he might turn the tables on me right there. He looked angry.
I pushed him down, and didn’t let up.
I watched him. Carefully. I watched his reactions, and he started to fight a little bit less. He was on the verge of tears, and he was fighting them. I
knew at this point, that he had the opinion that real men don’t cry. I
certainly don’t agree. Real men need to cry. It’s okay to cry. I told him that. He had tears in his eyes already, but was really struggling.
I resumed the position again, pinning his legs down, using the loopy, and started again, *hard.*
His entire body started shaking.
He was crying.
He broke down and was sobbing.
I watched his back move with the sobs, and I wanted to stop.
I wanted to hold him, I wanted to cry.
I continued for a few more swats, all VERY hard, and then paused to comfort him, telling him it was okay, and listened to him tell me he was sorry.
I told him that I was too, but that I wasn’t done yet.
I went back to the loopy.
I brought him to tears a few times. I didn’t let up when he started sobbing. I don’t think it would have been nearly as effective.
I had to fight tears a few times.
It was hard for me to watch a grown man cry like that, from my words, my actions, pain inflicted by me.
When he started to whimper, a sound I have *longed* to hear, I just wanted to< stop, and comfort him. I felt like a horrible sadistic bitch. I didn't though.
And I’m glad that I didn’t.
Spanking through the tears, and the sobs, wasn’t easy.
I guess I thought that when I did take someone that far, that it would be a high for me’ that it would feed into my domme urges, and not bring me down too.
I was glad that for the worst parts of it, I had him pinned down from behind, and he couldn’t watch my face. If he had, he would have seen how much what I was doing was getting to *me.*
At one point, he said “STOP”, and even though we had no safeword, I saw the look on his face, and immediately stopped, got off of his legs, and held him.
He was in pain.
I put the loopy johnny down, and comforted him for awhile.
He was crying a lot.
More than I have ever cried from a spanking.
More than I had seen someone cry from my hands.
When he was calmed down, I picked up the prison strap.
After he had started crying, I didn’t have to pin his legs down. He hardly moved once the tears started. It was at that point that I considered him “broken.”
That point where he couldn’t fight me if he wanted to, and he wanted more punishment.
I had wanted to plug him, and put him in the corner, but I just *couldn’t.*
His tears kept coming, and I felt like I couldn’t put someone in tears in the corner. I just couldn’t. I was a bit disappointed with myself. I felt almost weak, for not going where *I* had wanted to go with the punishment.
We were interrupted. Someone came home.
His bottom was starting to look horribly striped from the loopy, and he had a few bruises, so I saw this as a good time to stop most of the play.
I had promised him I would cane him, so I put all the other implements away.
We talked for awhile, then I got out my rattan cane.
He was afraid of the cane. He saw it as the worst possible implement. I gave him about 10-15 not-so-hard strokes, as he was already so well-toasted. He looked at me and told me, “that wasn’t that bad.”
Well, this brought me back to my normal lil sadistic self.
Anyone who says that *deserves* a lot more.
I repeated the rattan strokes, and then gave him a taste of my acrylic cane.
While he’s no longer afraid of the cane, I don’t think he’d dare tell me “it wasn’t bad,” after feeling the acrylic one.
Afterwards, I felt okay about it all, and spanked him again after his wife came home, so that she could see him breakdown, because mostly, I spanked him for A few swats, and he was burying his head in her lap.
I think that I needed to do that. To see him look to her for comfort, and to realize that it was all okay.
It was an intense spanking.
The spanking, his reactions, and mine.
I didn’t expect it to get to me quite so much.
But I think I took him where he needed/wanted to go.
I am glad that it did. I wanted to see a man broken, crying, sobbing.
I wasn’t expecting to get all of that Sunday, but I did.