Please Spank Me, Daddy….

This post is #22 in my 30 Days of D/s series. If you’d like to read more, please visit my 30 Days of D/s page for the complete inventory of posts.

 Mr. D and I have slowly been sliding our feet back into our D/s dynamic over the past month or so, redefining what we want and how we want it, and I’ll admit, it feels different than it ever has before. More than anything, I feel different, and He has been a lot less quick to move things along, which means I’ve felt more comfortable. It’s given me the opportunity to begin wanting things before He has a chance to introduce them, and I’ve even (very unlike me) asked for things that I’ve never asked for in the past. Rather than being convinced or pulled into things, I’m feeling more inclined to trust and request, without feeling fear or embarrassment in doing so.

Yesterday, I texted Him: Please, may I be impaled on your cock and maybe even spanked a bit…gently…Daddy? I need an attitude adjustment.

He responded: I will consider it.

And all the way home, panty-free (as if my Friday requirement), I felt myself begin to soften with hope, expectation causing wetness and heat between my thighs.

When I opened the front door and said hello, rather than engaging in our normal after work banter, his tone was business-like as He told me to remove His boots…His socks…then unbutton His shirt, undo His pants, pull out His cock, and begin sucking it.

Immediately, the simple directives (firm with expectation) switched my thoughts from the outside world to the inner. Shutting down other concerns, worries, and upsets, my focus became narrowed. On my knees, his cock in my mouth, I became a different and much simpler version of myself, eager to please and full of anticipation for what He might tell me to do next.

Go into the bedroom and take off your clothes.

Put a towel on the bed, and put on the blindfold waiting there.

I did it all, quickly, my interest piqued, giddy as a child on Christmas morning. And when I heard His footsteps, I held my breath.

I had asked for a spanking. Not a thing I think I have ever actually asked for (even though I’ve received quite a few, anyway). Pain has never been an interest of mine, but recently, I have been craving the feel of His hand against my skin, the heat that rises after His open palm smacks my flesh, leaving a pink flush.

I have been stressed and tired and mentally overtaxed, and deep in my psyche, there has been a call for something to reset me, to take me out of myself.

So I asked. Granted, I did so in a text, rather than having the confidence to do so face-to-face. And I wasn’t sure it would really work. I was also a little afraid that I would hate it, and that I would disappoint Him by having asked and not liked what He provided. Because, I know…He loves to give a spanking. And I so wanted to love what He gave me.

I laid out the towel in the middle of the bed and climbed up onto it. Putting the blindfold on, I leaned forward on the bed, head lowered, and took the presentation position, offering myself up to Him completely.

I don’t remember what He said, but I do remember the first swat. It was a light tap, as were the next several that followed, almost aggravatingly slight. I wanted more, harder. I needed the impact. I needed to know how my body would react.

He swatted me a bit harder, enough to make my breath hitch and my body flinch. But it still didn’t hurt. It felt…good. And I wondered at that momentarily. Why did it feel good, when it never really had before? Why was I suddenly craving this thing I’d always thought I’d wanted to avoid?

But the thoughts ceased as he continued to swat my behind.

Not once was the pain more than I could handle, in fact it hardly hurt, and I continued to crave it, with each impact.

He filled me with a butt plug, made me count the swats, used a vibrator against my clit, and then thrust Himself inside of me after making me squirm for just long enough.

And afterward, I reveled in the reset, wondering at the warm, red welts on my backside.

Is that what you needed?

Yes.