When I was younger the thought of spankings and punishment in general was always connected to a sense of guilt, something that had to be put right. This idea has lost much of its power over me of lately and now I can see that spankings stand for a lot of other things as well. Still I wrote this story. It was something that just happened and it is about that dreaded thing of older times, guilt.
My mind was in darkness. I had let the sun go down on my anger and I felt horrible. I had left my lover while I was angry and I had hurt him. I had been right, I think we both knew that and I had stood my ground. I had all the rights in the world to do that. No one could deny me that.
The thing I had seen on his face was hurt. I had hurt the love of my life deeply because I had stood my ground. He had been angry with me and we had argued. I was right and he was angry, angry and hurt.
The following day I lived in a kind of haze, thinking about what had passed and what to do about it. I could not say I was wrong because I wasn't and that was the problem. At least I thought it was the problem. But as the day went on I saw the face of my lover clearly in my mind and I saw his hurt.
I realised that it was not important if I had been right or not. The important thing was that I had hurt him and I had not hurt him by being right. I had all the right in the world to my opinion. That was not the point. I had hurt him by wanting to hurt him by being right and I realised that that was the cause of my misery.
I walked through town trying to delay going back to my empty flat. I went in and out of shops looking for nothing or everything. I wanted time to pass quickly so that I could go to bed and sleep my time away.
It was then my eyes fell upon an innocent item on a shelf. A flash of insight sparkled through me and with embarrassment I saw clearly what should be done. I had struggled for a long time with a sense of guilt, feeling that I had no reason for guilt. I had the right to be right and that was it. Against my will I came to realise that my guilt was at the centre of my misery and I wanted to rid me of that and that need made me embarrassed.
As I laid my eyes upon the sturdy shape of a wooden brush I realised that I needed to be punished. I blushed as I saw that. My heart started beating and I felt ashamed. That was completely against my beliefs and against anything that my reasoning could come up with. Still I knew that I wanted to be punished.
My heart was still pounding in my breast as I knocked on his door. I knew he was still miserable, still angry and hurt. It didn't leave him that easily. I waited in fear for him to answer the door.
My heart stood still as he opened the door. He looked sad and miserable. He looked at me and I stared at him.
'Can I come in?' I asked.
'Sure,' he said and stepped aside. I saw that he was still angry.
I stood in his hallway for a while before I could say anything.
'Look,' I said, 'about yesterday.'
'I am sorry,' he replied quickly, 'you were right, I shouldn't have...'
'Wait,' I said with a strange new confidence, 'I have come about yesterday, but, please hear me out!'
He looked at me slightly puzzled.
'Do you want to sit down?'
I was sitting on the edge of his armchair, like a nervous school girl. He sat in the sofa regarding me. He looked strangely worried and sad, not at all the confident self he used to be.
'Now,' he said, all of a sudden, breaking the silence, 'you were right yesterday and I know that.'
'I was right,' I answered, 'that is true but that is not the point.'
'What is the point?' he said looking even more puzzled.
'The point is that I hurt you and I don't want to hurt you.'
'But you were right.'
'Don't you see? I don't care if I was right- I hurt you with it and I did it because I wanted to and that is why I feel guilty about it.'
'You have nothing to be guilty about,' he said sternly.
'Yes I have and I don't want to feel guilty.'
'Sorry, but what can I do about that?' he said a bit defensively.
I had heard that I had been pleading with him and maybe had I even sounded a bit demanding.
'I am sorry, it is not your fault and we both know that.'
I stared at him and I felt anger well up in me. I had tears in my eyes. I couldn't explain and suddenly my bright idea was just silly.
I couldn't answer him so I opened my bag and produced the menacing looking wooden brush.
'What?' he looked at me in disbelief.
'Here,' I said holding out the brush for him.
Anger overtook me as I spoke.
'Take i!' I said, 'take it! I have hurt you and I can't make that hurt go away but I feel guilty and I want to be punished.'
'Punished?' he said, 'I don't understand.'
'I know I am completely mad, but I want to be punished and I think you should use this on me.'
'Yes, this brush.'
'Like I should spank you or something?'
'Yes, just like that.'
'I can't do that,' he said almost as if he was pleading with me. He looked terrified.
'Please, spank me!' I said, 'please, punish me!'
I felt my cheeks blushing, I had never in a long time been that embarrassed.
We stared at each other. His eyes were wild. I could see that many thoughts and emotions passed through him as he stared at me.
'Give me the brush!' he said suddenly and held out his hand.
I presented the thing and I felt strange. I felt detached and removed from the whole situation and my head was buzzing.
He sat up in the sofa and I realised I had to come to him. I rose from my chair and suddenly I was standing in front of him. He looked at me but he seemed lost. He had accepted the implement but he didn't know how to proceed. I blushed as I realised I had to take command.
My fingers felt numb as I pulled up my dress. I wore a black, quite short and tight fitting outfit and it stuck to my waist as I had pulled it up. I took a deep breath as I took hold of my knickers and pulled them down to my knees.
I felt a strange tingling in my body but I could not possibly admit that it reminded me of another kind of tingling that I used to get with him. I approached him as he was sitting and I was about to place my body in his lap when he interrupted me.
'You like this, don't you?' he said with a tint of anger in his voice.
I stopped short, embarrassed.
'You get off on this and you are using me,' he continued.
There was a moment of silence.
I don't know if I like it or not,' I said trying to be as composed as was possible with my dress pulled up and my knickers around my knees.
'I only know that I am terrified and that I think you should do it,' I said.
He stared at me for a second, then he tapped his knee and I positioned myself in his lap. This was it. I was going to be spanked. I had asked for it and it was happening. I was scared.
I felt a strange sensation as he placed the cold wood on my bottom. It was a kind of excitement and at the same time determination and horror. The closest thing to this was sitting in a dentist chair. You are determined even if you know it will hurt and you feel a kind of excitement that may very well be fear.
Then he smacked me. He hit me on my right cheek and it hurt. I felt the pain and at the same time I realised that he had not used his full force. It was a meek tap compared to what a man like him was capable of. I knew that but still it hurt.
Then he hit my left cheek and I was surprised by the pain. He hesitated for a while and then he smacked me again and again. He took his time but he smacked me one cheek after the other but not very hard. It still hurt.
I felt I could cope although it was unpleasant. My bottom started to feel warm and tender but he continued smacking me. I felt my body move, instinctively trying to get away.
Then he stopped. I took a deep breath overcome with emotions.
'You asked me to spank you,' he said, 'do you regret that now?'
'No,' I said, hearing how weak my voice was.
'Do you want me to stop?'
There was something strange in his voice, a hint of triumph, maybe anger, I couldn't tell.
'It is not for me to decide that,' I said meekly.
'Right you are,' he said and now it was definitely something in his voice that seemed like triumph.
He started to smack me again and this time harder. I wasn't prepared and cried out. He smacked me harder and faster and I was not sure I could cope any more. It hurt too much and it was too horrible and I was too overcome by it all.
He didn't care and relentlessly he let the wood hit my tender bottom. I cried out and felt a bit of panic overtaking me. I didn't want this. It hurt too much.
He stopped for a while. I lay panting in his lap fearing he would continue. I almost started pleading with him.
Just as I was about to tell him that it was enough, that it hurt too much and I felt silly and embarrassed and in pain, a thought struck me. This is what it was like being punished. He spanked me and it hurt and that was right. It was supposed to hurt. I wanted to be punished and I was being punished and if it hurt that was my punishment. I had to go through with this.
Then he started spanking me again. He knew how to do it now. He used a lot of his strength now and he smacked me with vigour. It was far more painful than before and I started crying. I didn't plead but I moved around and squealed and cried. Still there was something that held me in place, a deep conviction that I had to do this. I couldn't go back now. I had to do it.
In my agony I heard him as he smacked me. He laughed. He enjoyed this. He was happy spanking me. I screamed now and was in pain. He spanked me relentlessly and it hurt.
Then it was over. He had spanked me enough. He was satisfied. He told me to rise and I complied. My knees were weak as I rose to my feet. He stood up too, facing me.
Suddenly we were there, facing each other, close. I saw that he was no longer angry. He looked content. I saw that through the tears in my eyes.
I was subdued, overcome with the whole matter but I felt that something had changed within me. I had subjected myself to this painful ordeal and something had changed.
He held out his arms and I pressed my body against him. He held me close not because he wanted to comfort me but because he loved me. I loved him too and felt safe in his arms.
His touch did not only made me feel safe. His body was close to mine and that made the tingle grew stronger. I remembered that I had not pulled up my knickers and that I was naked below my waist. I felt the fabric of his trousers against my belly and I was suddenly aware of a strange sense of vulnerability. That made me feel even more aroused.
Later he looked me in the eyes and I looked back. He was not angry and I was not angry and I felt no guilt any more. He smiled at me and I felt that things had changed.
'When you spank me next time,' I said.
'Will there be a next time?' he asked.
'When you spank me next time, will you grant me a wish?'
'What is that?'
'Don't make me have to ask for it!'
'How will I know, then?'
'You will know,' I said, 'it is for you to decide.'