i wrote the first part of this yesterday evening, while Sir was out and about:
Sir says that i have a spanking fetish.
i think He’s right.
i’ve always been turned on by spanking – at least by thinking about it. Reading about people getting spanked turns me on.
And well, yes, the real thing does too.
Some of my favorite fantasies are punishment fantasies. Details may vary ~ where i am, what i’ve done, what i get spanked with. i may have to get naked, i may just have to pull up my skirt. Other people may be watching, or not. i may have to count or say Thank You.
There may be a complex story line, or not much of one.
There are bits of fantasies that float in my head.
i am getting punished, turned over the arm of the couch, naked. The door bell rings. Much to my horror, my husband answers the door, .
It’s the neighbors – her husband has been talking to mine, and he – the neighbor – wants to learn about spanking as a tool of discipline. He’s brought his wife to see how it works.
They come in and he and my husband talk about it some more, while i wait, bent over the arm of the couch. When they’re through talking, my husband demonstrates on me.
Then he sends me to the corner while he and the neighbor demonstrate how it works on the neighbor’s wife.
That’s just the outline of course. There are details. What they say to each other. What he uses to spank me. What the wife says. Whether he lets the other husband spank me. Lots of things.
i don’t want it to really happen. Trust me, i really don’t. The spanking, yes, but not the neighbors part.
Eve though Sir says i have an exhibitionist streak, and i guess he’s right, but it’s mostly in my imagination.
i like spanking scenarios better when it’s punishment of some sort rather than if it’s for my pleasure.
i got that far, and then Sir came home and i got sidetracked. When i was ready to go to bed, Sir told me to go ahead and get ready and He’d come tuck me in. But before i even started brushing my teeth, He came in the bedroom and was rooting through the toy drawer.
“Whatcha doing?” i say.
“Getting this,” He says, wielding our big wooden paddle.
“O,” i say, toothbrush frozen half-way to my mouth.
“Go ahead and get ready for bed,” He says, a bit impatiently.
“Yes, Sir,” i say, but then i can’t resist. “How come we never use our flogger anymore?”
“The flogger? I don’t know where it is,” but i can hear Him rooting around for it while i brush my teeth. When i come out, He’s got a fine assortment of instruments laid out on the bed.
He has me lie, face down, on the bed and starts with the flogger. Ahhh, i love the flogger. Particularly this one, it’s one He made a long time ago, and it’s just lovely.
Then the belt, the one He gave me, which is a wide leather belt, and hurts more than the flogger, but in such a lovely way. And i’m all warmed up from the flogger, so i can take it.
Then there’s a thin wooden stick, that stings like a you-know-what, but by then, i don’t care. When He ends with the big, huge paddle, i’ve drifted off into subspace ~ fully aware of what’s happening and what i’m feeling, but in a happy place about it all.
So maybe i was wrong when i said i like punishment scenarios better, maybe that’s just in fantasy. Cause last night was just lovely.
Thank you, Sir.