And here I am to talk about Spanking again! But this time it is Drum Roll Please
the Please No More Sir!
One of the (dreaded?) aspects of our brilliant, exciting, sexy, passionate D/s lives, is being the recipient of a very hot hairbrush hitting our backsides, while our Dominant scolds us for something we have said, done, or didn’t do. Could just as easily be a crop, or paddle, or – well there is a myriad of varied and sundry instruments at his disposal
Why do we accept such draconian methods of – what? Control? Authority? Punishment?
BECAUSE WE LOVE IT!
This is why vanilla folks think we’re crazy. And they’re entitled! I would only say, don’t knock it until ….
How does one explain the unexplainable? Perhaps – consider the following:
Once again I have put it off. Every January I set up my spread sheet. Every January I promise myself that I will calculate and record all my expenses for that month so I won’t have to wade through all the crap in December. Twelve months of stuff – such a nightmare. If I do it monthly, it’s so much easier. February – I complete the task. March – I complete the task, but not until the second week of April. End of April – I have better things to do. End of May – Oh Dear, it’s suddenly the end of June. And here it is, the end of July. Four months I have to catch up on now.
“Maggie – if you don’t finish those accounts by the end of the day…!”
The threat is real.
The chore is over my head. Every time I decide to get the job done, something much more important pops up, like – for example – vacuuming. The dog’s hair is all over the place. Or – that phone call I keep putting off. Must do it or I’ll forget.
Did I just not believe him?
“Are you finished?”
“Very well then…”
My heart is racing as the familiar darkness engulfs me. The blindfold is tight, secure.
“I promise I’ll do it now. Right now,” I whimper.
“Shush. You had your chance. You’ve had four chances. Now over my knee, please”
Does he have to be so damn polite? Why does it make it even worse? This is really embarrassing. Oh God! Why didn’t I just finish the damn spreadsheet?
“Are you ready?”
I hold my breath, waiting, knowing this is not pleasure. Knowing that this is the kept promise. I have only myself to blame. He pulls up my skirt, then slides my panties down to my knees. Oh My God – it’s just so —!!
The first smack hurts. Really hurts.
“I told you if you didn’t do the work,” he says sternly, landing the second, scorching my skin,
“you’d get the hairbrush. Didn’t you believe me?”
“Yes, sir. I just — oooh please,” I cry, wishing to GOD I’d finished the flaming, annoying…
He lands the fourth.
And so it continues. My butt is stinging, and I know I will never, ever, let another month slip by without finishing that spreadsheet.
I’m panting, gasping, wriggling, so uncomfortable. He smooths the wood across the pain. Soothing, sweet.
“If you don’t do August, you know…!”
“Yes. Yes. I know,” I whimper. “It will be done. I swear!” And I mean it. Every single word.
He touches me. My sex is wet – warm as toast – as if my burnt waffled bottom has sent its heat into my body. He slides his fingers around my clit, now swollen and sensitive. I shiver. Will he take me into pleasure now? Or leave me wanting as further punishment. Perhaps he’ll make me lay here and bring me right to he edge, his expert fingers dancing across my hungry recess, until I’m begging – then pull me off his lap to kneel in front of him, panties still around my knees, to do what?
I never know. The mystery of every moment is his, and his alone to reveal.
What actually did happen?
I did my taxes. I completed the assignment. The threat was real. I’m not stupid. Yes I LOVE LOVE LOVE to be spanked. The kind of spanking described in my last blog. But the hairbrush? The crop? The paddle? Seriously applied as punishment? Not So Much.
It works. Do I lack self discipline in certain areas? Absolutely. Do I love having someone to whom I must answer? Absolutely. Does he sometimes spank me hard just to remind me that he will? Absolutely.
Do I Love This?