It was a hard spanking. Hard because there was spanking and the backs of my thighs. Hard because the ebony hairbrush and my bottom were intimately involved. But mostly hard because I didn’t want to be spanked.
I made that quite clear. When Paul’s desire to spank me was mooted by him on our walk home from breakfast, I told him I didn’t want to be spanked. When we got home and he said he wanted me in my uniform by the time he got home from Staples (we needed CDs for the Christmas album) I repeated that I didn’t want to be spanked. When he pointed out there were lots of good reasons to spank me, I narrowed my eyes. Because I really didn’t feel like it. I had been too stressed out from applying for academic jobs, from losing my purse, from dealing with the after effects of losing my purse (I could go on about that but you’ve probably read way more about my absent purse then you ever wanted to hear).
Paul’s response? That’s too bad.
I understood. He wasn’t saying “That’s too bad — I wish we could play.” He was saying “I’m going to spank you anyway. I’ll be in control of the scene. You have no responsibility except for being there.”
And because of that, it worked. Because I didn’t have to consent (beyond the consenting to non-consent that I did years ago and have never wanted to revoke), the spanking was just what I needed and made me feel a peace I haven’t felt in a long time.
After care conversation (held snuggling in bed):
Me: Why do I always feel so loving and close to you after you beat me?
Paul: Because you’re a weird freak.
Me: Oh yeah.
Advent bloggers so far (go see them!):
padme & Anakin – Journey to the Darkside
Marie – Life, Lemons & Spanking
EmmaEnchanted – This Kinky Life
Quai – Spanking Discussion
Poppy St. Vincent – Poppy’s Submissions
Sharon – The Evolution of a Pin-Up Model
Tiger – Innermost Me
Indy – Not So Submissive