Faceless

I actually hope that T will never find and read this blog.

I was talking to another Dom/spanker online, and he told me that yes, he has lots of experience. Years, in fact. But there have been many times that he felt used as a person, as a spanker, because of the way that spankees treat him. I didn't understand.
"Spanking isn't a one-sided street. There should be gratification for both the spanker and the spankee. And I don't mean sexually. But as you know, the spankee does top from the bottom. So if she sits there and dictates everything, and then you never see her again, talk to her again, except when she wants another spanking, what does that make me? I've had years of experience, but I'm no paid professional. If I was being paid for this, feeling used wouldn't be an issue."

In some ways, I do understand what he's saying because I know for a fact that I am one of those girls.

Of course, I do talk with T online and we chat about a variety of things, not just spanking-related. But the truth is that I don't even remember his face. I don't think that I care to know what he looks like. In the simplest terms, I AM using him. He's a married man, and I know that there is no long-term relationship to be had between us. It's not that I don't want a long-term relationship, but it's not realistic to expect it.

Spanking has been so much of a fantasy thing for me that I'm having trouble understanding it as a reality right now. I want to be well-spanked, but I don't care to be emotionally involved with anyone.

I told T I don't really like to be touched, and he said he did notice that. And besides the fact that I don't like being touched by anyone, I especially don't want to be hugged and cuddled by someone who just spanked me. Because it is a truly intimate thing, yes, but I don't feel intimate with that person.

Implement shopping

During my lunch break, I went shopping to see what selection of bathbrushes they had... I ended up buying a small rounded bamboo hairbrush, and a heavy wooden bathbrush. I was blushing the whole time. Why? No one (who isn't a spanko) would see anything strange about this! I was about to buy a wooden spoon also, and was starting to venture into the men's belt section, but thought that might be pushing it lol.

Since T broke my other one, I thought this purchase was necessary! I'm noticing that hairbrushes with a square, paddle shape have a thudding quality to it, I guess because of the cushioned part of the bristles on the other side. The slightly smaller, but rounded hairbrush might be more stingy.

The bathbrush I bought on a whim. It's flat and heavy on the end, and circular in shape. It'll probably bruise me. Oh well.

But this isn't for real

So he cracked the side of my wooden hairbrush (which he said he knew would happen)... my ass is completely bruised. Swollen, I guess you can say. I can't really sit down. That's the point. I know.

T is a nice guy. Besides being a good spanker, I can also imagine being friends with him normal, vanilla situations as well. I like that he is not going to hit on me, not going to make any moves on me... I like that he has a sense of humor.

The spanking was also good. I mean, for a first spanking ever, I think that's about as good as it's going to get. Not too brutal, but definitely not soft.

But now it's the day after, and I'm wondering... is this really what I want?

I don't have any qualms about the fact that I met him from online. That was a really good thing, actually, since we were able to treat each other like friends first, not like a discipline service. (Which happens more often than not, I'm noticing.)

But I don't really feel punished. It wasn't supposed to be a punishment, anyway, but in my mind, a spanking is a punishment. I want to feel this stinging, swollen ass of mine and think to myself, "Ouch, well, I deserved that. That's what I get." But I don't really think that at all.

Maybe because the reasons he spanked me weren't really legitimate reasons to me? I get that he wants me to say yes, sir and things like that, and I should be doing what he tells me to do. But I don't feel a horrible sense of regret for not saying yes, sir, or even for telling him to "move your fucking leg!" somewhere in the middle of that spanking. I don't feel like I've learned a lesson about something important.

We were joking with each other during all the breaks we took. T was very good in that way, trying to make me relax and feel more comfortable with him... but that makes it less serious.

This is real life. No one is going to say to you, "Hey, you need to watch your mouth or I swear I'll put you over my knee," and then actually do it. The spanking itself will always be (or should always be) consensual on some level. But I have a desire for it to be non-consensual, totally serious, totally harsh, and make me totally remorseful. Maybe I have to turn to the discipline service type people for that.

I want him to have a legitimate reason to be spanking me, and then spank me hard, make me really cry, and then say, "okay, get up. I hope you've learned your lesson, and every time you sit down, I hope you remember it," and then be gone. No jokes, no laughing, no "are you okay?"

It will never be really REAL for me, I feel like, because spanking is something I enjoy. I mean, not in the moment, but it's not something I fear completely, like a non-spanko would. That annoys the hell out of me.

The First Spanking

So yesterday was the big day. And it was pretty good. This is what my ass looks like, approximately:

Recap of the spanking:

I'm sitting next to him and he knows I have a problem saying "sir."

"Are you ready for this now?"
"Yeah," I say.
"What did you say?"
"I said, I'm ready."
"I told you how you are to respond to me, didn't I?"
"Yeah."

And then somehow I'm over his legs. And I'm nervous. I try to control his every move.
"Wait."
"Remember this is my first spanking ever."
"Slow down!"
"Don't do that!"
"That hurts!"
"Take a break!"
"Is that your hand or the hairbrush??"
"Take a FUCKING BREAK!"

He starts off slow, but with firm swats over think yoga pants. He makes me say, "yes, sir," but I'm still not comfortable about it. It's only been a few minutes and I'm already kicking and squirming.
Eventually he does take a break and lets me up.

"How was that? Was that too hard?" he asks me.
We have been laughing and joking since the moment we first met, and I say, "That's what she said."

Again, we play the game of his "Respond to me appropriately" and my "Fine." He takes me over his lap again and swings the hairbrush.
"THAT is the hairbrush."
It stings so much more than his hand... his hand has a sort of sting plus a dull thud. The hairbrush is pure sting. And he keeps swinging and swatting my ass. He likes to concentrate most of his energy right at the center of my sit spot, and by the middle of it, I am really  kicking and making noises I have never made in my life.

After about what seemed about 10 minutes of that, he lets me up again and I sit next to him. Except I can't really sit so I put my legs up, my ass off the chair, arms under my knees.
"You doing okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It just hurts to sit."
"Then I'm doing something right."

I'm hurting, but it's that bruising hurt that I don't particularly like... I tell him that I think I can handle pants down, but he better keep my panties up.
"You are such a spanko," he says, and forces me over his lap again.
"Wait-- already??"

I don't remember what happened then... what exactly I said or did to make him want to go as hard as he did, but I said or did something pretty bad. He starts spanking with the hairbrush over my pants and then suddenly, without warning, they're down and I feel bared. Even though my panties are still on, they are the type that only cover half the ass anyway.

T starts raining swats on my sit spot too quickly for me to count. I am kicking too much and he pins me under his thigh. I am begging him to slow down, please, please slow down. But he won't. He keeps swinging a huge amount of force into each stroke of the hairbrush, right at the same places. My damn sit spot.
I told him I wouldn't cry, and it's true that I didn't outright cry and bawl and breakdown, but tears had formed in the corner of my eyes from the pain of that particular spanking. I wanted him to stop so badly but he wouldn't... I keep saying, "stop, please stop, I don't think I can... this is too much... please slow down...stop!"

"You are such a control freak," he says to me. "Don't try to tell me what to do, because it's only going to make it worse. Do you understand me?"
I hate when he asks that and I mumble something.
He spanks me again, way too hard, and this time I scream, "YES SIR!"

We take another quick break.
"Do you know how many that was?"
"No, how many?"
"That was 100 strokes!"
"No fucking way..."
"You're doing very well. You're taking it a lot better than you said you thought you would."
"Well... I guess so."
"And saying sir isn't so bad now, is it?"
"I don't like saying it."
"I know that. That's why I'm going to make you say it. Do you understand?"
Ughhhhhh. I make a face.
T grabs me hard and says, "Look at me right in the face and say it."
"I don't want to. Please don't make me!"
But of course he does.

And one last time, I'm over his knee... and I'm pretty scared now. The sting level is high, and I'm not sure if I can take it. I am flipped over his lap and I keep my hand over my ass.
"Hold on. Give me a second, okay?"
"No," T says. "For these last 10, you're going to count them, okay? And say 'thank you, sir' after each one. Do you understand?"
"Fine," I say, and he lands a huge one right in the center of my ass.
"Yes, sir," I acquiesce.

We probably end up doing 20 or 25 instead of 10 because I don't say "thank you, sir" loudly or clearly enough for him to hear. I am completely exhausted and squirming at this point, completely sorry. It just hurts so much and I want it to end. The stinging penetrates me through the skin, and my ass feels totally blistered, as they say. He rubs me a little bit.

"I know you said rubbing seems sexual, but I really think you need it right now," he says.
"I agree. Thank you."

Finally, he lets me up and we talk for a little bit. He compliments me on my ass, makes me laugh, and tells me I'm doing very well.
It's turning dark outside and suddenly I feel really sleepy, like I could just fall right asleep, right there. He says that's normal, and I'll sleep like a baby tonight.

We hug and part ways.

Restless

I'm feeling restless. Being at home all day... all I do is think, think, think.

Is it just me? I feel like being part of the "spanko world," being "into" spanking, being a spanko, being a top or bottom, knowing what "otk" means, knowing what cornertime is, all of that... it just seems like being part of a special secret club or something. Spanking relationships seem so much more passionate and alive and real... maybe that's just snobbery on my part.

But at least for now, being "into spanking" will always be considered kinky and the type of punishment spankings that we (sometimes) crave will always be held a secret between the 2 partners. This enthralls me like no one (but other spankos) could ever know.