When I long to be punished...

I am deeply in need of a really good, really thorough, really hard spanking.

 

I haven’t done anything wrong deserving of punishment. But the very thought of Jason taking his belt to me, or hauling me over his lap for a spanking that leaves me kicking my legs and begging for mercy has me so emotionally tangled, I’m choked up at the thought. 

 

I really can’t explain why I get this way sometimes. I think it’s occasionally due to stress, since I find spanking – all of it, reading about it, fantasizing about it, and even the threat of it – relaxing. But it isn’t that today.

 

I woke up and do what I always do on a Sunday. Reflected on my week, regrouped with my goals, and planned the week ahead in detail. I’m super Type-A, so I planned everything from how we’d spend our Sunday family day, to my work tasks, to my meal plan, to my daily workout routine. 

 

I saw the little checkmarks next to my daily habit tracker for check-in. We haven’t missed a day in weeks. We’ve been super consistent making sure that we go over my rules and he gives me some maintenance. But… well… eventually, I get to a point where a few sips no longer satisfies my thirst. With all the kids home again, especially those incredibly perceptive teens… we’re right back to where we were before. 

 

So this morning, I made Jason his coffee, and brought it up to him. I don’t always do this anymore, because of our shifting schedules, but he loves when I do, so I try to do it a few days a week.

 

I snuggled up to him in bed, and we talked about alllll the things. What we were going to do today, what we were looking forward to, and I finally said in a bit of a breathless whisper, “I’m craving a real spanking, daddy. One that hurts. A long one I keep feeling later. One of those hard ones that puts me in a deeply submissive headspace.” 

 

He nodded, holding me, and he said, “Alright, baby. I’ve got three things I’m going to get done today no matter what, and I promise, that will be at the very top of my list for you.” 

 

I actually got all choked up and nodded and said in a shaky voice, “I think I really need it.” 

 

He could tell then how desperate I was, and at seeing my emotional plea, he knew. He just knew. “Aw, baby,” he said. “I can tell you need this.” 

 

I don’t know how or why I need this and likely never will. I’m desperate for a good cry, I think. Desperate for that deep well of mind-clearing peace that comes in the aftermath of a good, hard, spanking. Desperate to feel his strength, to know that my husband is my devoted dominant, and capable of making me feel the hurt that makes everything else easier to bear. 

 

I don’t really want it, though. I’ll probably fight it. No, I definitely will. I’ll probably ask him to stop before he’s hardly even begun. And I have to trust that he pushes me well past that threshold of “consensual non-consent,” that when I beg him to stop or try to squirm away, that he doesn’t let me.

 

I need to relinquish some control, I think. It will hurt, I know, and I won’t enjoy it in the moment, but I have to admit, I long to be well and truly punished. Why? I don’t know. But I also don’t know if the why matters anymore. It’s good enough for me to know what I need and trust that he meets that need.