A Spicy Spanking Lifestyle Whets This Couple’s Sexual Appetite With Every Sultry Smack.

“Variety is the spice of life,” Cliff likes to say when we’re in mixed company.

Our friends always nod, as if they understand. Cliff is a chef, after all, and he knows his way around a spice rack. Basil. Oregano. Mint. All feature prominently in his heavenly dishes. But Cliff is more than a wizard in the kitchen. He’s a master in the bedroom. “Variety is the spice to our sex life,” he likes to say when we’re all by ourselves.

Recently, Cliff was inspired by something he’d watched on a reality cooking show. The chefs had been blindfolded and challenged to name ingredients from taste alone. Cliff got a wicked look in his eye. One I recognized, but I didn’t immediately understand. The look meant he’d come up with something kinky. But how had the cooking show triggered his dom streak? I was about to find out.

In bed that night, Cliff slid a satin blindfold over my eyes and then put me on my hands and knees in the center of our mattress. I was stripped naked and extremely excited. When Cliff comes up with new ways to play, I undoubtedly will win pleasure by the plateful.

“All right, Beatrice,” he said. “I’m going to spank you.”

My pussy responded automatically. A spanking always turns me on. But Cliff wasn’t finished. “And you’re going to guess what I’m spanking you with.”

I should have known! My mind did an inventory of our different kinky devices. We own paddles, crops, floggers, slappers, slippers . . . .

“Ow!” I gasped.

He had started already, before I was even properly prepared. I sucked in my breath at the sting, but then I smiled because he had begun with an easy one.

Cliff landed a flurry of smacks on both of my cheeks. Then he paused and said, “What did I use on your beautiful backside?”

“Your hand,” I said, feeling smug.

I have become well acquainted with Cliff’s firm palm over our five years as a couple. There was no doubt in my mind that’s what he had used to redden my ass. I heard the sound of our closet door opening. I turned my head toward the squeak, even though I couldn’t see a thing with the blindfold in place. I wondered what Cliff would choose to use next. My brain spun the wheel. Would he surprise me with one of his favorite paddles? Would he use a whippet-thin cane? Without my sense of sight, my hearing seemed more attuned than ever. First, there were Cliff’s footfalls as he closed the distance between closet and bed. Then the next item. I heard the swish in the air before I felt the sting of a dozen little leather fronds.

“Cat!” I shouted immediately.

“Correct,” Cliff said. “But which cat-o’-nine tails?”

“Cliff,” I wailed. “How am I going to guess?”

The only difference between our cats is color. We own black, purple and red. There was no way I was going to be able to figure out which one he’d chosen based on feel alone.

“You have three guesses,” Cliff said matter-of-factly.

He’s so levelheaded. But I guess he could afford to be. I wasn’t swinging tiny weapons at his ass, after all. He let the strands kiss my skin again.

“Black?” I asked hopefully.

“Nope.” He struck again.

“Purple?” I tried, my voice tentative.

He didn’t even answer. He let the fronds really fly the last time. There was no doubt now. I knew which one this had to be.

“Red!” I yelped.

Cliff let the tool fall to the mattress. Then he paused to run his hand over my smarting skin. I trembled all over. My whole body felt electrified. I love it when Cliff spanks me, and the added game he’d created had really ramped up my appreciation of the event. He hesitated in the spanking fun to stroke my pussy, and his hand came away wet with my juices. He let out a low moan when he realized how turned on he’d gotten me. We’re hardwired together in our desires. He gets off punishing me, and I delight in every tantalizing torturous second.

“What do you think I’ll use next?” Cliff taunted. I wondered if he was hoping for a hint from me. What did I want him to use next? That was simple. I have a love/hate affair with our slapper. The thing packs a mean sting, but the instant warmth that spreads through me is more than worth the pangs of pain. If I told Cliff what I desired, would he give me that toy or make me wait? I didn’t know how sadistic his mood was. I took a shot.

“The slapper,” I said, and my voice was soft enough that he leaned closer to me. I could feel the heat of him at my side.

“Repeat that,” he insisted.

“The slapper,” I said more forcefully.

We’d bought the toy online after watching one being used in a naughty BDSM video. I had seen the way the porn star reacted to the device, and I’d wanted to experience that same type of blistering bliss.

Cliff used that toy next, but I didn’t know if I’d influenced his plan or if our kinky minds were thinking alike. Living up to its name, the slapper made a delicious sound as it connected with my bare skin. Sometimes when Cliff spanks me, he has me tally the blows. Other times, he ticks off the strokes himself. This time, he didn’t seem to be striving for any type of numerical goal. Perhaps he had a different endgame in mind.

My bottom was growing warmer from the way he was paddling me. But my pussy was also responding. I could feel the wetness coating my shaved lips. If Cliff wasn’t careful, I would come before he entered me.

He seemed to sense my heightened state of arousal, because he dropped the slapper and returned to the closet. I had my eyes shut beneath the blindfold, and I did my best to use my senses as I heard him rummage in our toys once more.

“This one’s going to sting,” Cliff announced.

He sounded pleased at the prospect of inflicting pain. I could guess that he was hard. Then I didn’t have to guess. I felt him butting against my mouth. I opened my lips, and Cliff slid the head of his cock forward. From this position, he landed the next blow. I had to focus to keep my throat relaxed as he took a blowjob from me. All the while, I paid attention to the flare of pain spreading across my backside. Cliff was using a crop that had a little hand-shape on the end. As he fucked my mouth, he rained a steady stream of blows across my cheeks. Both of the actions were equally erotic.

I always get turned on by sucking Cliff’s cock. The added benefit of him whipping me simply ratcheted up the pleasure. I was panting when he pulled away from me. As before, he asked me what he was spanking me with, and I named the device. I wondered how long I would have to wait before he fucked me. My pussy was clenching around nothing. Thankfully, Cliff seemed to be reaching his own limits.

“Last one,” he said, “and then I’ll screw the sting away.”

Somehow, I knew what was coming. Cliff has one special paddle that he loves more than all others. Made of a dark red wood and cut with a handle that fits perfectly into his fist, the paddle is almost like a wooden extension of Cliff’s deviant desires.

For the final implement, Cliff made every blow count. He smacked me five burning times on the right cheek and then five matching times on the left. I identified it immediately. Then he dropped the paddle, pulled the blindfold from me, and flipped me onto my back on the mattress. The sheet was cool to my hot skin, and I pressed down on the mattress, relishing the sensation. As aroused as I’d grown during the spanking, Cliff seemed to have gotten equally worked up. His cock delved inside me, and he ground his hips against mine.

When I was right on the cusp, Cliff did the trickiest move yet. He arched back and then patted my clit in a spanking style until I climaxed in a wave. He came right after me, filing me up. But then while I reclined on the mattress in liquefied bliss, he was in motion once more.

“Let’s try that again,” he said.“Another spanking?”

I was in shock.

“Another test,” he said, and I saw him reaching for the dildos.

Variety definitely is the spice of life where Cliff is concerned. And spanking is the hottest spice in his repertoire!

— Ms. Beatrice, R., San Francisco, California