This Need

I left for HH's offices shortly after five o'clock, and the nervousness that has had me close to insanity today escalated to pure panic mode. I felt as if I was not ready for a spanking and thinking about it, I was sure I did not even want this spanking. I was already such a tightly coiled bundle of aggression, nerves, tiredness and frustration, and here I was about to bare my bottom for him, his "blank canvas" that he so loves to turn into shades of red. Every fibre of my being wanted NOT to do this, not today, not even tomorrow.

On arrival at his office, I parked my car, but instead of my normal routine of getting out immediately I sat quietly for about two or three minutes. In my mind the words of an interaction that I had read about in Arianna's blog, were being replayed, repeatedly.

“Ari, do you need a spanking?

“I don’t want a spanking.”

“That is not what I asked you, little girl.”

Why is "I do not want" unacceptable? Why must I dig deeper and am forced to embark on a journey into the dark recesses of my soul, for an answer that I do not feel I should be giving? Can it not be seen that with every step I take, I am reminded that every bit of protective coating had been scrubbed away, and am left feeling only vulnerable and exposed?

As I sat staring at the evening traffic going past, I took a deep breath before getting out of the car. I maybe did not want the spanking, but I did know the answer to the question that was put to Arianna, and as much as I would have wanted to argue and deny that was not so, I knew that I needed a spanking.

We had another long pre-spanking conversation, and even though my language could not be even remotely being classified as well mannered, he permitted me all the time in the world to talk. As my frustrations and irritation spilt outwards, I could feel some of the tension draining away. He patiently sat listening, not saying too much, allowing me to express my rage, my grief and my guilt.

He told me to get ready, to assume the position and for once, I had no desire for smart remarks. He offered a choice – paddle or cane, knowing that I will not choose the paddle willingly. It was to be twelve with the cane, and as I waited with my bottom bared, bent over the chair, I sighed deeply. With only a couple of seconds to spare, I realised how urgent the need actually had become, that I needed to relieved of a burden, wanting the lightness back into my soul.

As the first stroke streaked across my bottom, the pain was so intense that it felt as if my body was shuddering within. As I felt him tapping the cane against my bottom for the second stroke, I wanted to tell him to wait, I am not ready, but before I could utter a word, I heard the swish, followed by the sharp burning pain that was cutting into my very being. He was not in a hurry, taking his time to ensure that every stroke was well placed, and as the cane found my bottom again and again, I was struggling not to move away.

I felt as if my body became wrapped in a cloud of moist heat, feeling the perspiration in my face and on my back, but simultaneously, goose bumps were rising all over my skin. When the last stroke fell, and the burn died slowly away, I could not move. I could feel him rubbing my bottom, but it was as if my brain had lost control over the rest of my body. When I finally straightened up, I could remember the absolute silence. The turmoil within me had died down, and I could feel a peaceful tiredness settle over me, the battle for now over and done with.