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My honest thoughts and feelings during a common scenario

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This is a scenario which has happened many times, even before we were in a relationship. My boyfriend does not need a reason to spank me; in fact I have communicated to him that I have a need to be spanked fairly regularly in addition to any discipline I might earn.

When I go over his lap, he usually has me lie down over one leg and places his other leg over my legs, which will likely soon be kicking, trapping them in place, and firmly presses down on my lower back.

In all honesty, I like to be over his lap. I like that in our relationship, he is dominant and I am submissive, and that he exercises his dominance over me in this way. I can’t help but feel self-conscious and embarrassed with my skirt or pants off and my bottom lifted up, reminiscent of a child-like punishment. But, in this strange paradox, I like to feel those things, with my boyfriend whom I love and trust. I can’t help that as long as I have been alive I have known that I wanted and needed this without knowing why.


He will start to spank my bottom with his hand and for a few seconds, I enjoy it. The stinging tingles on my butt send mixed messages of pleasure and pain, and I breathe deep and start to sink into the mindset of being a submissive girl getting a spanking.


Usually fairly quickly, I am in disbelief at how much his strong hand can hurt. I will whimper and squirm involuntarily and he might calmly inform me that we are just getting started. I understand that. However, I am no longer in my head; all I know is the unrelenting painful smacks he is delivering, and a desire to twist or crawl off of his lap. Here, being trapped and restrained come in to play. I keenly feel my helplessness and his strength. I can’t go anywhere and this spanking will not stop until he chooses.


As I gasp for breath he might pause, bringing me a few seconds of relief, to ask me a question or two. It might be “Do you need your bottom spanked?” or to question if I understand that I am not in charge.


I know that as soon as I answer, the stinging barrage of spanks will continue, but I must answer the truthful “Yes.” I feel small, humble, and properly tended to, having to say out loud that I understand this is necessary even while my upturned bottom is being smacked hard. 


Usually I am eventually able to relax onto his lap as he finishes the hand spanking, the frantic-ness and self-preservation subsiding, leaving acceptance and deep submission to his decision. My bottom hurts, but I just want to stay here forever. I want to do anything he asks of me. I want to serve him.


He stops, and gently rubs my bottom, and I hope he is pleased with how it looks.


He will say my name, or some other endearment.


“Yes?” I respond sweetly.


“It’s time for the paddle.”


“Oh.” Nervous anticipation rises up in me.


At first, by brain screams inwardly. More painful swats on my butt? But as I get up on my knees and off his lap to bend over for the paddle, I realize he is right to paddle me and knows full well I can take more. Earlier, while his hand was in the process of delivering those sharp smacks, I was squirming in pain, but now the burn has subsided. If anything, my butt is merely pleasantly warm. Perhaps I need something more, a little lasting soreness.


If we are not already in the bedroom, he will firmly take my hand and lead me there. Sometimes he will have me get on all fours on the bed, perhaps even leaning forward on my elbows with my head down. Or he might tell me to stand at the end of the bed and bend over at the waist, or lie face down with a pillow under my hips, which puts less strain on my arms and legs. 


Whatever the position, I reach a higher level of vulnerability and embarrassment than when I was over his lap. Knowing how prominently my butt is presented to him and my back arched, I might not be able to help being turned on at this point.


He will usually lecture me a little at this point as well and perhaps ask me more questions which I am to answer respectfully and submissively.


In the traditional way he will likely caress my bottom with the paddle, lining it up on my sit spots that he is about to target. The hard, heavy wood of the paddle speaks to me and perhaps even satisfies something inside me like nothing else. 


I don’t know why I need a wooden implement on my butt. Psychology may or may not have come up with a reason, but it is a true, deep-seated need that I have and I am grateful to him for helping me with this.


He lifts the paddle and brings it down with a hard whack. Oh! I always forget how much it hurts. But that is one of the reasons why he needs to do this, as he might remind me while he continues to paddle me. Remembering how much the paddle hurts helps me to be good, because if I earn a punishment paddling it will be even harder than this.


His paddle is small, and he can spank one cheek at a time with it, or both cheeks at once. I think he enjoys both of these methods and will try each of them in one paddling. The pain not only sets my skin on fire but spreads deeper into my bottom cheeks as well, on occasion forming a bruise which I rather like to inspect after the fact.


I don’t count in my mind how many swats he gives because it is hard to concentrate on that, and he doesn’t ask me to. However, he might make me repeat something as he gives me the last several swats, like “I will obey”.


Depending on how hard he paddles me, or possibly how emotional I happen to be, I might cry. Being paddled to tears is very difficult to get through. While it is happening, I might squeal, beg, or curl up and he will have to order me to arch my back and get my bottom out again.


But when it is over I feel more like myself. I feel that all is as it should be. I feel that something bundled up inside me has released into an explosion of warmth all through my mind and body. He cuddles me and I melt into him with a euphoria like no other. Perhaps this is what is known as subspace; I certainly feel very submissive to him as he comforts me.


Again, I am very grateful to have someone like him and I don’t ever want to take him for granted.

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