“What Is it That Makes Spanking an Interest to You?”
I’m quite deep in the closet about this, as it’s literally my only... well, it’s not even a fetish, because I’m not interested in sex. I’m very shy about my fascination. If anyone in my life ever found out, I’d deny it to my last breath. I’m secretive and shy about it. But if you were to take a sledgehammer to my secret inner mind fortress and open the diary buried inside of it, this is what it would say:
*Deep breath in*... God, I just love spanking so much. I adore being put OTK, having my bottom bared, and just... rrrgh. But it's more than that, way more.
I love the language of spanking. Nearly every word and phrase associated with it. "Bare bottom", put you over my knee, across my lap, you're going to be punished, paddled, a good paddling, naughty girl, all those words. I love when a spanker talks to me. God, I love that so much. The anticipation it builds. “When we get home, you’re getting a spanking.” Say it to me directly or indirectly. I’ll make a smartmouthed comment (it’s what I’m known for), someone else chuckles. “That’s very sassy” they say, laughing. “Oh, don’t worry,” you say, calmly, smiling, “when we get home, she’ll be getting a good spanking.” Or perhaps a bit more playful? “Aren’t you going to reprimand her for that?”
“No, that’s alright. When we get home, she’ll be spending some quality time over my lap.”
“No, but later on, I think my hand will be spending some time getting acquainted with her bottom.”
I'm an absolute compliment-slut when it comes to spanking, you have no idea. "You have such a cute little bottom, so round and plump, I'm going to enjoy spanking those cheeks of yours. Oh, you had better get comfortable, young lady, because this little bottom is going to be on fire by the time I'm through, probably long before I'm through." My heart catches in my throat just to type it.
I love the costumes that come with spanking. Me in my school uniform and the spanker in a button-down dress shirt and tie. A button-down sweater is fine, too, as is a regular sweater, but only if it's over a dress shirt. Bonus points if he's wearing a suit jacket. Oh and if he's in a sweater-vest? Knockout, game over, you win. Please lecture me, Mr. Suit, make you address you as Mr. so-and-so. You are my professor, or my strict legal guardian (I'm not into family relations; there's a history of abuse there). And how could I forget pajamas? A bedtime spanking? Yes please! “Alright, it’s 7 PM. Go upstairs and change into your PJ’s. I’ll be up shortly to warm your bottom.”
I love the implements of spanking. The hand will always be my favorite, but a paddle is beautiful, a hairbrush is wonderful. I've only been caned once, and it was divine. Straps and tawses frighten me, but you know what? I think with the right person, I could take it. He'd have to really talk me through it, tell me how much he cared for me beforehand, and during, he would have to tell me every few strokes how much he loved doing this to me and how proud he was that I was taking it like a good girl. But even then, I really, really think I would need to be tied down in some way. Wrists tied to the bedpost at the very least. ... Jesus, I would love to be OTK while my wrists were bound to the bed. "You can't keep your hands away, so I'm going to have to tie them up. Now we're going to start over again." Thermometering? Yes, please! I’ve never tried it and it frightens me, but... I think I need it.
I love the intimate positioning of spanking. OTK is my very favorite, but I'd really love to be on a bed, hips propped up high by a pillow or two, having a riding crop taken to me. I love that light tapping they sometimes do right before giving a sudden, sharp swat with it.
But my biggest, most shameful, yet most desired aspect of the spanking world is... rubbing.
I. Effing. Love. Rubbing.
What I specifically mean is I adore having my bottom rubbed. I'd walk ten miles for ten minutes of it. It's just... ohh, I can't even. Slow, gentle caresses, as though appraising my bottom, admiring its softness, it's roundness, and he's very much approving of what he sees. Speaking to me now and then, or just murmuring to himself "oh yes... yes, this is a beautiful bottom... I could spank these cheeks all day..." or, maybe, if the time is right, something far more shameful- "you've been very, very naughty... say it. ... Yes, very good, and what happens to naughty girls? ... That's right, they get spanked. And how are they spanked? ... Say it. Say it. ... that's right, on their bare bottoms. ... Tell me what you deserve. ... Yes, yes, you do. Now say 'please sir, please spank my bottom. ... say it."
I long to hear "now this is going to be a very long spanking, so I'm going to lotion your bottom before we start. No, no, you're not going to do it- I am. Come over here.". I think I might just drop dead on the spot if I heard that.
I have a deep need for an aftercare routine which involves being OTK as he gently rubs cooling cream over my sore pink cheeks. It would be a dream come true if part of my punishment was "a good spanking on a well oiled bottom. Have you ever had one? Well you're about to get one. Bring me that bottle, young lady." I remember once during a spanking, the guy stopped to lecture me and he rested his hand gently on my bottom while he spoke. I absolutely go wild for that. Need it. Got to have it. And rubbing in between spanks... well that goes without saying. Yes, yes, one million times yes.
That’s... everything. The honest truth, all laid out in black and white. My secret shame, right there. I love it and I hate that I love it, but I know that I couldn’t stop wanting it even if I tried (and believe me, I have tried).
Please think kindly of me. This was very difficult to admit.
(If you reblog, won't you please add a comment with a few thoughts? Thank you.)
