The truth about spankings

They hurt. The ones that I fantasize about, especially. I mean, really really hurt. As soon as they start I can't imagine WHAT I was thinking, craving this. When I haven't played with someone in a while, I tend to think, "He never went this hard before!" -- but that's probably just my imagination. He HAS spanked me that hard before; it's just that my mind has processed the memory in a very pleasant, neat little "romantic" package. And part of that romantic flight of fancy is that I assume the position and take what I've earned like a docile little submissive.

The grunting, sweating, fear-filled reality is that when I get the spanking I deserve (and need) I'm going to be struggling through it. I MAY stay in position but it will be VERY difficult once the big girl implements come out. I may have to be tied down. I may have to be gagged if I'm in a place where my yelps may be too loud. I may have to be threatened with even more severe punishments if I don't take THIS one. And that DOES scare me and I try to stay still. But sometimes my body simply betrays me.

My top will keep going when I start to cry or scream. He knows I deserve more. He may hold me down. As the pain gets harder to take, he may bring out another implement, perhaps something made of wood. And that's when I may lose it. At the first one or two strokes I will cry out, "No! Stop! I can't take it!" He will continue to spank me, telling me that I WILL take it. If I rebel, if I throw myself off his lap and onto the floor, begging for mercy, that's when he may spring into action. He'll haul me back up, force me back over his lap, lock my legs into place (a predicament that always scares me), and calmly state: "We aren't finished, young lady."