Chapter 2: The Club

We live in a larger city so it didn’t take long to find a spanking club. In fact, we found several, all having slightly different guidelines as to what was or not allowed. We made a choice to apply to two different clubs and wait to see if we were accepted. We sent pictures of me being spanked, although our faces were masked so the pics could never be used for wrong purposes. Art was identified as dominant, meaning that one would spank her. I was a submissive, with the condition of men only being allowed to smack my butt. There is the ability to change preferences; however that was not going to happen.

There were other rules we had to agree to in writing. Never take pictures or videos for example, or call members by anything except their club name. We’re allowed to use nick names, but we both wanted to use our real names. It’s not the same when being spanked if you’re called by another name. At least to me it isn’t anyway. Besides, if Art spanked me at the club, I would have a hard time addressing him as anyone beside his real name if and when I started to cry. We got accepted into a club where hard spankings were common, unlike other clubs which limited spankings to being on the light side. The first thing we agreed with the club was to meet with another male led relationship couple. It wasn’t so much an interview, as an introduction so we would know each other upon arriving at the club. Pre-meetings stop strangers from dropping in as one must be known by two club members before allowed in. The other connection with this couple would be at the first club meeting. Art would be spanking her, while the man would be charged with my butt getting whacked. Having a new couple introduce themselves by spanking or being spanked was a method used to determined if people were genuine in their desire to be involved in the scene.

Bob and Donna were a perfect couple to meet. All of us were nervous for the first five or ten minutes, but after sharing stories about spankings from both ends of the paddle, we seemed to bond together. Our first club experience would occur within a week at a local restaurant which had an upper room specifically reserved for ensuring the utmost privacy. We wouldn’t be invited to a member’s home where the occasional club meeting was held for a least a month to give everyone an opportunity to check us out. We were told the one paddled, whether male or female being brought to tears was a common occurrence and nothing to be ashamed of if it happened.

When we arrived at the club meeting Tuesday evening we were cordially greeted by the members. I would have guessed the number being around thirty, although the membership roll count is just over fifty. I was surprised at the variety of age groups. There were ones near our age, but also many in the age bracket of forty-five and up. The first half hour was taken up by conversation that let us relax as the group seemed like normal people, except everyone had a kink about spankings. When Bob clapped his hands the entire group turned to face them. Our first spanking club meeting was about to start.

Bob did the formal introductions, announcing us as prospective members. Prospective because we had to pass the final test which included getting my butt smacked. When Bob asked Art which of us would be first, my husband pointed at me. We had agreed to this previously, as it was me who would be over a knee. If I couldn’t or wouldn’t take it, there was no sense in continuing. Bob looked at me and I nodded my consent. Every spanking had to be openly consented to unless it was a spousal one. It was assumed spousal spankings had consent before joining the club.

Bob pointed at me and then to a spot on the floor. “Get your butt over here, Gwyn! I understand without a red bottom you’re not ready for the day according to your husband Art. You haven’t been shown you’re very ready for this evening at all, so I’m going to refresh your readiness right now. Bring that chair over by the wall with you.” We had agreed with Bob and Donna earlier that I would be over the knee spanked while Art would follow suit with Donna. Art and Bob had brought their favorite paddle along for the occasion.

I went over and picked up a chair, one of many against the wall and went up to Bob to place it beside him. She glared at me. “I didn’t say that chair, did I?” Now get the one I want, and you better not be slow about it.” I knew she hadn’t specified any particular chair, however sending me back for another chair further set the stage for my paddling. I ran to the wall and grabbed another chair, then running back to Bob I placed it beside him. “Sorry Master, I’m really sorry.” Throwing in the title of Master was my idea, nothing like adding to a situation. I found out it wasn’t a good idea. Bob reached over and grabbed my ear. “I am not your Master! You have a master, who I’m sure will remind you of that later tonight. You will address me as Mr. Bob. Now get that belt off and undo those pants. You won’t be needing them for a long while, I assure you of that.” I took off my belt while thinking why I just didn’t wear sweat pants that night instead. I knew I would be losing my pants and sweat pants would be a lot looser on my butt cheeks afterward, but it was too late now. With my belt off and pants undone I stumbled forward as Bob pulled me beside his thigh as he sat on the chair. He reached over and yanked my pants down to my knees. Thankfully my shorts still covered me, but I knew that wouldn’t last long.

“Now young lady, let’s get your bottom warmed up! Over my lap and don’t even think about standing up or protecting your butt with your hands. Anything besides obeying me instantly will only make you regret it.”

I went over her lap, glad my shorts were still in place as my front end was not exposed to everyone, at least not at this point anyway. I was made to adjust my position as Bob gave instructions on moving forward or getting my feet positioned, and keeping my head up to look at the people watching, each order accompanied by several hand slaps on my bum. Art had moved over so I was able to see his smile, making my position all the better knowing my husband was there and approved.

“Gwyn, it’s time you got your bottom paddled. If you cry or squirm that’s OK, but remember the rules about standing or covering your ass. This is going to sting. Are you ready?” Bob’s tone of voice didn’t sound at all like the one he had used at our first meeting.

I didn’t get to answer his question as the paddle smacked over my butt cheeks within seconds of him asking. Her one hand pulled me tight toward her hips as the paddle whacked the same spot on my left cheek four times before moving over to my right cheek and delivering another four to a spot on that cheek. The paddle was made of plastic, that had several holes drilled in the middle of it so the air went through the holes as Bob brought it down from above his shoulders. At first I heard the rushing sound of air before the paddle landed, but after awhile I quit listening due to the sting pulsing throughout my rear end. I had hope there was no more to come when he put the paddle down. Bob placed the paddle on the floor, leaning against one of the chair legs. “Now Gwyn you’re on the way to being well spanked. Let’s me give you a hand in that, can I?” It would clearly not be a helping hand as his palm now rested on my bottom. “However, before we do that, I’m going to remove these shorts. They’re a real nuisance in letting me see how you’re taking all of this.” Within seconds, my shorts were down by my ankles. My shoes, which I had not removed, prevented my shorts from flying off my feet despite all the kicking I did. When he had me raise up to assist in lowering my shorts, Bob crossed one of her legs over top of her other leg, making my now bare butt stick even further up in the air.

For a few seconds I felt the cool air of the room waft across my cheeks, too soon replaced by his hand slapping my butt. I realized Bob probably considered baring my backside in front of the group when first on her lap might be embarrassing for me. By doing the baring at this stage made no difference as I had submitted to him by then. His hand slaps although firmly delivered were softer than the paddle, however with the smacks I had got from that formidable plastic paddle, even his hand didn’t feel soft to me. By this time, I had forgotten about the club members watching me. I was in full motion, twisting and squirming while writhing on her lap. With tears rolling down my face I started to cry. Bob must have heard me crying because he spoke while keeping his hand constantly slapping my bottom cheeks.

“Gwyn, if you think a few tears will make me stop, forget it. You’re the type of woman who needs several strong men in addition to her husband in her life. Men who are willing to discipline you, keep you in line as they say. Keeping you in line means giving your butt a good whacking. In your case, I believe you need another taste of my paddle.” he gave me a few more hand slaps and then picked up his paddle. The first stroke of that piece of plastic made me respond immediately, crying a lot louder while bouncing and squirming on his knee even more. I guess that’s the type of response Bob was looking for all this time.

I’ve never been sure when Bob stopped paddling me after that, but after a time I felt his hand rubbing my lower back, while Art had knelt down beside my head and was stroking my hair while murmuring loving words to me. Bob spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Welcome to the club Gwyn. You’re now a full member of the Red Ass Spanking Club.” I realized how important it was to be accepted into the club. Art told me later Bob paddled me for exactly five minutes, although to me it seemed liked hours. I would have watched Art spank Donna more after I was released, however the sting in my backside prevented me from concentrating. I did see Donna bawling like a little child over her father’s knee before my husband allowed her to stand. I saw the wisdom in letting my husband spank Bob’s wife after my paddling. If Art had any ideas that I’d been treated too harshly it would give my husband a chance to show his displeasure by spanking the man’s wife. We’re one of the few couples were one was dominant and the other submissive, as most couples are switches. I was happy when they announced Art acceptance into the Club.

When we arrived home Art was eager to have me in bed. My being spanked by a man outside the family circle, and my husband spanking another man’s wife, proved good for us as a couple. The only bad thing about the club was Art finding out Bob’s plastic paddle was called a Lexan and he purchased two, one for home and a smaller one for when we travelled. Those suckers can deliver one mean whack.

The spanking club was a good experience for us, and we developed friendships with several other members of the club. We attended bi-weekly meetings on a regular basis, with me and Art usually participating in some manner at most meetings. In particular, our relationship with Bob and Donna was considerably closer than with the other members. That friendship grew into one where we spent as much time with each other as we did with Art’s family. Both Bob and Art travelled on business for different companies so it was really only a matter of time after a while that Bob had to be away over a weekend. It didn’t take long for our husbands to ensure arrangements were made so Donna and I would spend time together. Bob left Donna with firm instructions that Art would be in charge at our place, where her husband was to spend the weekend. These arrangements were announced after bar-b-que we had the previous Wednesday night. I have to give Donna credit for arguing with Bob that he would spend the weekend at their home. Art gave me a look that told me clearly to stay out of the couple’s argument and I wisely took the advice. She and I had planned a golf day for Saturday and watching football on Sunday afternoon, so it wasn’t like the two of us were not going to be together anyway. Our husbands had no objections to our plans, the only argument being where Donna would spend the weekend. I was aware Bob had arranged contractors to work on their house exterior that weekend and he didn’t want Donna around the house. She would complain about the constant noise of hammers and saws, slowing the work down, and no doubt she would never be satisfied with the work as she tended to be a bit of a perfectionist when it came to remodeling their home. The couple continued arguing for about fifteen minutes before Bob looked at my husband.

“Art, can we borrow your house for a while please? Donna and I will be settling this discussion in private if you and Gwyn don’t mind.” he moved to where his wife sat and took hold of her wrist, a sure sign of how the discussion would be conducted. I realized Donna didn’t make the slightest objection to what would happening. She hated her husband leaving even for a short time for his work. This wasn’t Donna saying he didn’t want to stay at my house. This was her wanting Bob’s attention because he was flying out Thursday afternoon and not coming back till Monday evening. She was on night shift at the plant where she worked. Bob would be at work when she got home the next morning so having time together was difficult for them.