There are waves of emotion in the aftermath of being an adult woman spanked. There is a deep chagrin, the awareness of a regretted act that you cannot undo. There is a self-abasement: in the lowest role in life, you can’t even succeed in being a half-decent slave. There is the personal doubt: what in hell are you doing with your life, submitting to such things in all their impropriety? There is the inherent disgrace of, well, being an “adult woman spanked.”
In this moment, my cringey humiliation is no longer about my original sin, my careless inattention in a moment. I castigate myself for slipping in that, for not being a straight-A slave, but it was really just a moment, a lapse of focus not intention, and somewhat a trumped-up charge. Dominants look for chances to punish you, eagle-eyed for slight errors they can use to impress their power upon you, and Master Z certainly did here. I was wrong, but he jumped on the opportunity.
No, standing here in the aftermath, my ass cheeks deeply smacked, glowing like twin red planets, my humiliation is of a deeper kind, given that Brother Johnson witnessed it start to finish. If just between me and Master Z, it might have been a smaller experience, embarrassing in its way, but contained in the domain of my slavery to him. With Brother Johnson present, my event becomes public and judgmental, and I become a thirty-something woman of shame.
He has me clean up.
I shower and redo my makeup and hair, as if starting the morning all over. Putting myself together again has a way of easing me, like a reset of life.
I apply lotion to my ass cheeks.
He lays out a shirt for me, one of his — white, button-down — and he wants me to leave it open, unbuttoned. It’s a symbol, we both know, of his possessing me, containing me.
He instructs me not to wear anything else, nothing below. He wants to see the aftermath of my punishment in all its glory.
I return to the deck. Brother Johnson has left. I am glad.
I don’t really like him.
Master Z looks me over. He offers no words but a slight nod. I take it I have adequately redone myself to his approval.
He has me turn so he can see my wounds. To him, for the rest of today at least, I will be “the woman spanked.” To me, the awareness of that will last longer.
He orders me to fetch him a drink, this time tonic water with gin.
You’d think I’d be thoroughly tamed at this point, ready to jump to obey anything he says. It doesn’t always work that way. I pause — for too long, I know — but I’m searching for clever words, something to re-insinuate myself with him. It is a noticeable hesitation, and I know it annoys him. I finally say, “Need something refreshing after the workout?”
It’s meant to be clever, but it comes out sassy. It’s all wrong, I know, but I hope he waves it off.
He doesn’t. He stands, walks to me, and slaps me across the face.
You seek dignity in your world, even as a submissive from whom dignity is frequently stripped. In a way, being punished feels like you are demoted from an already demoted position, made lower than the lowest of places. So, between humiliations, you look for ways you might restore a measure of what you had, your former humble connection to your master-owner.
As a D/s slave, you accept your lower status with him, of course, yet you know you are special, by virtue of your very submissive nature. As a dominant, he needs a slave, and you are the one, one of relatively few willing to do this. You find an odd importance in that.
So when something like this happens — a punishment that strips you literally and figurative of dignity and submerges you in shame — your rebound from it is about re-finding some sliver of self-respect and restoring this “odd importance” to him.
Reclaiming your former position is about finding the space where you can be “you with him.” That may test some boundaries. Despite what you just went through, you say or do something that explores how far you can go to be yourself and yet not incur the wrath of the own who owns you.
Parents see this in children all the time. After being admonished or punished, the child quietly tests the boundaries again and again, careful not to go too far, but still finding the degrees she can get away with.
Fine and good, but I’m not a child. I’m a woman in her thirties who’s just been royally spanked. I return to him chastised, sure, but I desperately want to get back with him in the sort of repartee we had before. I want to reclaim some dignity amidst a trauma of shame. I want to recover my odd importance to him.
I know my words are all wrong.
He slaps me. It’s open-handed, stinging but not hurting.
I look at him through wet eyes. I nod. He has smacked through my shtick and made me now docile and ego-melted. I say, “Yes, sir,” and clack off in my high heels to make him his drink.
He has me where he wants me.
I am back in the kitchen to slice more lime. He keeps the house unusually cool, always a shock coming in from the summer sun. Wearing only his open shirt, I have goosebumps on my skin. I open the refrigerator and feel a slight chill.
He has followed me in.
He takes the paring knife from my hand, setting it and the lime aside. He steers me to the narrow end of the massive kitchen island, his hands on my waist forcefully turning me to face it.
From behind, he opens the shirt to expose my breasts completely. He presses me forward to bend at my waist, until my naked breasts touch the cold marble countertop.
He has me stretch my arms across and to the sides, where I grasp the edges of the island.
He has me spread my legs.
He has me where he wants me.
slave shae 
We dominant types will never fully understand submissives. And we will be forever grateful for them.
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…and vice-versa. dominance is a mystery to us submissives. I know of it maybe somewhat more than other subs because Amanda has been open about herself and how a dominant thinks. even so, I don’t really understand the “dom thing,” especially in men… but glad you’re grateful for us 😉 and the feeling’s mutual.
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A couple of things…..
“There is a self-abasement: in the lowest role in life, you can’t even succeed in being a half-decent slave.”
You make it sound as if being a slave is easy. I know better. I never made it easy for mine and the satisfaction, the RUSH, when they kept coming back for more is truly indescribable. If being a slave is the lowest role in life, then it should be a simple matter to find someone to fill that role. The exact opposite is the truth. It is not a matter of who is willing to fill that role, but rather of who is able to fill that role. To say that you are unable to succeed in being a half-decent slave is bullshit, and you know it. A true consensual slave is able to give of him/herself in a way that no other can, and is driven to do so. You must have meant “unable to be a perfect slave.” How boring would the perfect slavegirl be? You, shae, are more rare and precious than any suited CEO who will ever own you, else I wouldnt have had to search so long and hard. Mistress Amanda is just as exceptional. You both continue to amaze me.
“He stands, walks to me, and slaps me across the face.”
Uncalled for, at best. I never have, or would, slap a slavegirl’s face. I have found many extreme, some would say cruel, ways to punish a recalcitrant slavegirl. But they are human beings. I don’t look at them as being beneath me. I look at them as being my puzzle pieces. They zig where I zag. They are concave where I am convex. A good one is every bit as rare and valuable as a football coach whose team consistently wins the championship, except that the slavegirl can make someone much happier.
“As a dominant, he needs a slave, and you are the one, one of relatively few willing to do this.”
“Willing?” You crave it, need it, and would beg for it. You didn’t abandon your sucessful business because you wanted less. You did so because you wanted more.
Thank you again for this series, shae. I am enjoying it, immensely.
A a consummate slavegirl, you are sometimes required to behave as if you are the lowest station in life. But only fools and the vanilla world believe that is true.
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SIlkenlash, thank you for all of this. you know me so well, and we’ve had some of these conversations before. I don’t argue with your points, really, except that some of these things *are* in fact my state of mind in submissive situations. and so, while you are right about slavery not being easy and that objectively speaking I should better say “I cannot be a perfect slave,” in fact I *feel* the demotion to a lower level and feel that I “fail to be a half-decent slave.” I appreciate what you’re saying, but it’s where my submissive mind really goes in those situations.
I am honored that you are prepared to defend me in this life, sir. I have been blessed in slavery with responsible doms, as you are, and generally with doms who are not rashly physical with me. I have been slapped across the face on occasion, but never in a way that was injurious. I suppose that is right at the line between corporal punishment and physical abuse, can go either way. You and others think it crosses that line; others would say its as acceptable as a dom slapping my ass cheeks or whipping my breasts. But whichever, I thank you for your concern, Silkenlash, and your protectiveness of me. That means a lot.
I’ll add something more for those who read comments. This series, of course, is hypothetical based on real experiences, and part of my interest is in imagining myself with a dominant who is more aloof and objectifying and harsher than I’m used to. It’s for me a what-if scenario. And so, Master Z has a military bearing and is more physical with me and is less relational. It’s part of my effort to imagine a somewhat different experience for a slavery.
Again, Sir Silkenlash, thank you. as always…. 😉
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The disconnect goes to the difference between knowing something intellectually and knowing it emotionally. The feelings that you described go to the latter, but you are aware of the former.
I know exceptional heart, dedication, and inner beauty when I see it. I will point it out to those who matter to me, those who I feel should hear it.
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as always, dear silkenlash, you represent the best of dominant men, responsible and protective of the women you humiliate. you are charming in your utter dominance, such to make submissives want to do anything for you. you know this. and you know I do too… 😉
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Hi Shae. You don’t mess with a military. Especially not someone who has not understood your humor and replied with the same jargon. Has it actually happened that a Dom has hit you in the face 🤔. A few days to go, lovely descriptions to look forward to.
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thank you, nudo… yes, I have been slapped in my submissions, but on just a few rare occasions. I wouldn’t call it being “hit in the face.” it’s never been a punch. it’s always been open-handed, not heavy or hard, a slap.
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More like a reminder that your behavior was not acceptable, go with a pat on the cheek. Thank you and greetings to your loved ones.
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