I’ve indulged in some bad girl thoughts today. I daydreamed an encounter. You were at the computer and I dared interrupt your surfing. At first you were a bit peeved, but I turned and lifted my t shirt so you could see that my bottom was bare. You got the message right away.
“You need a good spanking?” you asked.
“Please?” I answered. “On the bed though so you can make it long and I don’t have to think about falling off?”
“Very good idea for a lazy Saturday, maybe you’ll get a few spankings between now and bedtime, if you play your cards right. How does that sound?” you said getting up from your chair. “After all you interrupted my surfing and image collection time.”
“Yes please,” I winked and then playfully scooted out of reach.
“Oh! You’ll pay for that,” and then you gave chase.
I giggled and ran, but once we reached the bedroom, I let you catch me. Your expression changed ever so subtly. The pleasure you felt was still there, but it took on that edge that it does when a sound spanking is going to be applied to address our shared needs. You know that I like it to hurt when I am in the mood to ask for it and you know that I like it to be long at these times too. You have to steal yourself for this. You like to spank me, but harder isn’t your preference unless I’ve done something to deserve it. You know how I need this though. You know how a sturdy session over your lap will aneal my brittle moods and you like to reward me for asking rather than letting moods press me to behave in ways that cause stress for us.
“So you need a spanking do you?”
“Yes please.”
“Hard?”
“Not really hard, but set some fire please, maybe make me cry if I can?”
“Pink or crimson?”
“Crimson…” I quivered, knowing that that was beyond our usual and most enjoyed spankings. Sometimes I just need a spanking that hurts more than I really like it too. I need the physical and emotional catharsis that comes with it.
“Bruises?”
“Just finger marks and burn, is that’s OK?”
“Finger marks and burn it is then. Are you ready to tell me why young lady?”
“No, not yet,” I waffle.
“Why not?” you are stern.
“When I feel safe and well spanked can I tell you?” I avert my eyes, embarrassed by the thing I have asked for and the position I have asked you to put me in. Even though I know it’s a submissive position you like to have me in and it affords you a power place that you desire to be placed in, there’s always a flutter of anticipatory ambivalence when I get it in my head to ask to be spanked soundly.
I don’t need it often, but when I do, you’ve always come through.
“Let’s be clear then,” you warn, “until you tell me, this spanking will not end, and once you do tell me you’ll get what I think you need to make it real. Clear?”
“Yes, thank you,” I whisper.
You climb on the bed and situate yourself with your back supported by pillows and the headboard. You place a feather pillow a adjacent to your lap, and you motion for me to assume the position across your lap so that my bottom is optimally accessible and I can clutch the pillow if I need to to keep my hands out of the way.
I feel a thrill and a wave of nervous pins and needles course through me as I climb up onto the bed. I kneel next to you and with my hands on the mattress accross your lap, I walk my way down until I am prone, my bottom where it needs to be, raised by your lap ready for your hand. You don’t immediately lift my t-shirt, instead you apply a few moderate swats and then grip and massage both cheeks.
“This is going to hurt, you know that right?” you remind me.
I don’t need you to say that since it is what we both understand is what I/we need. But I like you to say it because it intensifies the edge that so adds to the benefits of asking for it. It makes asking for it a much healthier alternative than acting out to deserve it is. Neither of us has to deal with the negativity of discord and we both get to indulge in the punishment desires we share.
“Yes I do,” I nod and look back into your eyes. You lean down and kiss me.
“You’ll take your spanking then?” your smile is soft.
“Yes please,” I drop my face into the pillow you so thoughtfully provided for me. It begins.
You lift my t-shirt and bring your hand down hard. The protection of cover and the luxury of massage is suspended by the earnest application of a much needed spanking. I gasp and soon can’t help wriggling.
“For a girl who needs spankings like you do, you don’t take them very well,” you tell me, but it doesn’t stop you. You’ve gotten used to my body’s paradoxical reactions. I giggle as the pain becomes intense and I struggle and whine when it kisses too much. You no longer let that deter you. You stop when I get out of position or twist too much, but you never let me end the spanking with complaints or girations. You know that I will safe word if I need too, and you know that I never have during an asked for spanking. The noise of mixed signals are no longer concerns for you, and you continue with purpose.
You set the pace, and I join you with it. You start out with sturdy smacks that sting like the dickens and up the tempo to burn, and then stop to lecture and ask me again what this is about. For the first fifteen minutes and multiple stops and starts each progressively more determined, I can’t answer. Then the goal is realized and I give in to my pride and tell you. Initially you’re loving and understanding. How could I hold on to something so normal ( if moody ) and let it intrude in my life?
“I don’t know,” I respond. I know it is silly and counter productive, and you know that I know it. We both understand that this is part of me. I beat myself up over all kinds of things (real and imagined). We also know that a good spanking pays that piper and exhausts the negative energies that could really get between us.
“So now you get the real spanking,” you remind me, and you give it to me. It’s hard and challenging. Sometimes I cry right away, somethimes I can’t. When my heart can’t let go of whatever is bothering me right away, I may not cry, and we might have to do this over again. This time though the tears came quickly. You don’t let them stop you. You know the goal. When I finally relaxed completely accross your lap even when you peppered my backside with flaming smacks, you know that our goal is accomplished.
“That’s enough for now,” you tell me. “We’ll repeat this before supper though so it sticks. understand?”
“Yes, thank you.”
You don’t let me up, instead you press your hand between my thighs. “Open for me,” you command. I do, and your spanking hand takes on a very complimentary purpose. I am so wet and aroused. “You don’t just need spankings do you?” you embarrass and thrill me with that observation.
“I need them yes,” I squirm as you spread my wetness between my sex lips and massage my secret parts with it.
“You need spankings like a very bad girl don’t you?” you croon, and I agree.
For several minutes you play with my sex and its appreciative dew. Then your own need peaks and you push me off your lap and onto my back. Before I can ask to pleasure you with my mouth, you have your trousers down and are pressing into me. Your need is complimentary to mine, urgent and primal. I reach climax twice before you do.
Both of us relax into light slumber.
Later, before supper, you spank me again. It’s a serious spanking and It hurts. I have no say about its intensity or duration, and I like that edge. After it I give you oral thanks. We watch TV until 10 pm and in bed you spank me again. This time it’s more for stimulation and I am already so tender that that doesn’t take much. We end our evening with you inside me, both of us sated and asleep before you soften and we can disengage.
A lovely Saturday, don’t you think?