Spanky spank spank

I hate to say it, but sometimes Madonna just nails it; "nothing like a good spanky!".

Spankings are something that I enjoy giving a great deal as a Domme. When I have a brand new patron visit, I like to begin with an over the knee spanking. Ever since My toad gave Me my boots, I always wear them during a spanking. I position Myself in my oak dining room chair that sits alongside My bed. I put them across My knees so I can spank with My right hand (it's stronger). After a good working over with My hand, I like to switch to a paddle so I can spank harder. You see, I bruise quite easily, and if I hit as hard as I like to with My bare hand, I wind up black and blue across My palms and fingers. Not only is it painful, and hard to explain, but it impairs My ability to really set Myself free on the next victim...errr, patron.
I enjoy building the 'layers' of redness, and of discomfort, and when I can hear your soft whimpers, and I know you are giving up your tears, that gives Me pleasure.

Of course, I understand first hand (ha!) the joys of a really good thunderous ass-warming spanking though. Not long before I began this journey into the oldest profession, I made a serious error in judgement in My personal life and I had to confess it to My partner. Part of My repentance was to submit to Him, and I did so gladly. I was told I would need to undress and present myself across His knee. He sat in His leather armchair, and I draped myself across his lap. This was uncharted territory for both of us. He had never spanked me before: I had learned that I craved the sensation of a hard hand on my soft ass from someone else. He spanked me, HARD: He held me braced so I could not move away, and so I was able to relax and enjoy the incredibly intense spanking he administered. When He told me to get upstairs on the bed, I ran! He took the riding crop to My ass, and when I squealed for a safeword, He told me I did not deserve one for my foolishness. I knew then that it had been foolish of me not to trust HIM, and that He knew my limits at least as well as I did. Though it felt as though my ass was being peeled at the time, and I cried and I moaned and I begged him to fuck me and forgive me, He left not a single welt or weal or bruise. As we lay together after, and I felt the delicious langour in my arms and legs, my mind was clear and my thoughts were bright and brilliant. I felt reborn and forgiven. It was glorious.

How do you feel, gentle perverts, after giving or receiving a really good spanking?