
Professor/Student - Young lady, your
behavior has been well below our standards.
Corrective discipline will be necessary.
What is Your Secret Spanking Fantasy?
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This is definitely the best Halloween picture I've seen so far this year. Thanks to Journey to the Darkside for posting it!
Although...it seems that my husband is under the impression that I'm around sixty years old. I'm actually 28, but I don't suppose I'll complain about the extras - especially when they lead to
. WEG.




four- year-old tornado tearing a path through whatever room I've just straightened. I will at least flutter.
| Your Inner Child Is Naughty |
![]() Like a child, you tend to discount social rules. It's just too much fun to break the rules! You love trouble - and it seems that trouble loves you. And no matter what, you refuse to grow up! |

Well, I got my spanking night before last. It was planned for the weekend, Sunday night to be exact, but, as sometimes happens, things got away from us. Nick and I have both learned by experience that if there's not enough time to devote to the event, it can leave me feeling abandoned rather than loved, so he decided to postpone it until Monday.
Here's the problem: I know I need this. I know it helps me. I know I asked for things to be this way. But when it comes down to the moment, I want to run away. It was a welcome reprieve on Sunday when he announced the slight change in plans. And though I felt a niggling guilt about it, I couldn't help but feeling relieved. Yay! No sore butt tonight! That sort of thing.
And so Monday night came around. I studiously avoided him the later it got. Then finally, upstairs reading, I decided to stop being a baby about it and go face the music. I took my magazine out to the garage (hey - we gotta find privacy somewhere!), and waited on him. Sure enough, a few minutes later he came looking for me, dreaded trout paddle in hand. And that's when my bravery fled. All of a sudden I was full of excuses. I started naming off all the wonderful things I'd done all week. I started demanding to know just how many times he'd changed the cat's litter box. I listed all the dinners I cooked this week as if I'd personally grown and harvested the ingredients. I talked about how hard I'd been trying.
Until he stopped me and said, "Do you want my help with this or not?" Shamefaced, I shut up and told him yes. The thing is, this wasn't so much a punishment even, as it was a firm encouragement to continue to do well. Oh, there were a few small things to deal with, and one rather big one. The small things were things like that basket of clean socks I can't seem to bring myself to sort and the dirty laundry I really could've devoted more attention to. The big thing was the oven. I left it on, not just all night, but all day until Nick came home and found it the next evening. I was angrier at me than he was over that.
But all in all, this was not going to be a long, drawn out, impossible to hold still for punishment. And yet I couldn't help trying to "But, honey..." my way out of it. But...once called on it, I quit my bargaining and got into position. He told me he was going to give me 50, and that he wanted me to stay still for him. And I did. It was hard, but I didn't move at all throughout the whole thing.
And when it was over, he put down the paddle and kissed me. He slipped his hand beneath my shirt and rubbed my back, then slid it down to my toasted bottom. And oh wow! Just like that, I was soaked, ready to show him just how good I could be, or how bad, or how Irish, or whatever the heck was gonna float his boat. We went upstairs, and he ordered me to take off my panties. He laid me on the bed and resumed rubbing my bottom (have I mentioned how HOT that makes me) and began to do magic things to my body, occasionally stopped to stoke the fire on my bottom.
The night rocked hard, and when I finally fell into bed, I was both sated and exhausted, and I slept deeply. I've worn around a rather stupid grin for the last two days.