Sitting here with a cup of coffee trying to make myself feel normal when there's nothing remotely normal about it. I'm naked and in my bedroom waiting for him to come and spank me. I know I deserve it, but that doesn't make any difference. The word he used was 'soundly'. He said he would put me across his knee and soundly spank me for misbehaving. I know what that means, the bedroom echoing with my punishment, each stinging spank of his leathery hand on my flesh sounding like a gunshot, except that they'll be too close together. Once he gets into a rhythm it's like a downpour of pain, a torrent of punishment making me squeal and squirm.
But if he didn't, didn't give me what I deserve when I deserve it, I wouldn't feel the same way about him. That's what makes him so special, and why I always show my appreciation afterwards in the way that he likes and which he tells me I’m so good at. He makes it good for me too so that by the end it’s better even than had it never happened.
I’m getting moist just thinking about it. Suddenly I'm looking forward to it and I hope he’ll comes soon. I've finished my coffee now and I want to be spanked!
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