The urge

Have any of you bottoms or subs ever felt this way? I'm not sure if it's a sadistic streak, merely childish, crazy, or something else. But it is  alive and well and it is there.
I don't really want to physically hit him. But I have the urge to be "bad". Because I want him to hit back. I think I'm addicted to it. At least, that's my excuse, and I shall stand by it.
I try it sometimes, when I'm feeling extra stressed or tired or sad.
It will go something like this:

"Bonnie-jo, I don't like your tone"--College Guy
"Well, random fact, I don't like your tone"--Me
A small laugh. "Fair enough."--College Guy
"What????"---Me

So I try something else minutes later:
"This is an idea that we need to think through together."--College Guy
"Nah, lets not think. Lets just see how it goes."--Me
"I'm serious, Bonnie-jo. This is important."--College Guy
"Soooo important...." ---Me
"So we are going to talk about it some more."--College Guy
"Whatever..."--Me

It's hard when you live so far apart. I get to brat a lot more, but other than an occasional yahoo video punishment (and I abhore those), he doesn't get to do much about it. And that's hard.

One day, about a month ago, we were chatting online, typing away.  And I was stressing over something.
"Is it warm in your room? Do you have your heater on?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Take of all your clothes. Do it now."
"Why?"
"Do it."
So I do. I've never typed to him naked. Of course, he can't see me. But the feel of the laptop on my bare skin, the radiation of its heat, the vulnerable and small way I feel---I love it.
"Do you know why you are naked right now?" He asks. "It is because, number 1, I like you that way and there needs to be no reason. Number 2, you needed to be put in your place."
I quake a bit at how arrongant that sounds, but I warm as the domminess of it surrounds me. "My place?" I ask.
"Yeah, I have some stuff I want to tell you. I've told you before. You still don't get it. Maybe you'll listen better this way."
And he talks.
But I still have the urge to push, to brat, to be 'bad". So I do. He asks questions. I say, "Yeah."
"I need a 'Yes, Sir' or 'Yes, College Guy' whenever you answer me, and that is all." He states.
"Yes, Sir."
At one point, he asks a question. I don't like the question. I don't like the topic. It's a sore issue, something we've been arguing about for quite some time. I wait a couple seconds to answer. "Yes or no, Bonnie-jo??" He prods.
"Yes." I answer. Then I type a face with the tongue pointing out. One of these dealios: :p
There is a pause. Then I see the words: "Get on yahoo chat."
"No, no no no!!!!" I type back. Yahoo chat is video. I am naked. I don't want that. How embarrassing.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I continue, "But I was joking. You said to me, ' Yes or no'. The joke was that I was picking one. You didn't say,  'Yes, Sir' or 'No, Sir', Bonnie-jo....because that would have sounded silly. But the joke was that was what I saw..."
He types back as I'm typing. "You pick this time to make silly jokes? When you know I'm serious. Get on yahoo."
"Nooooooooooooooo," I type back. "Please, pick something different. I hate yahoo. You know I do. And I'm all naked. And I'm tired looking."
We went back and forth and he gave in. In a way. He traded the "punishment" of yahoo chat for a 3-fold punishment that involved writing lines, a very hard spanking when I see him next, and something else that I'm not talking about. Not because it's sexual at all, just annoying. So....I suppose I got the better deal we shall see.
But seriously, all over me not calling him "Sir" and me typing a face with the tongue sticking out. Seriously folks?

My urge to brat had been kindly met with a hard hand. It was a good feeling. But you can't always meet it in the same way every time. Life has to go on. And it does.

Presently, I was supposed to get some homework done this morning. I did not. Instead, I wrote this post and did other things. He just got on chat and is attempting to talk. I'll let ya'll know how this goes. I still refuse yahoo chatting naked...ewww....

The Bet--Final Episode

   She lay perfectly still in the snow, even though the snow was biting into her bare thighs. But she wasn't done fighting, only regrouping. She felt his hands on her upper arms, pulling her up.
   "Get inside, now."
   She reached down to pull her jeans up, but was distracted by a stinging CRACK of his belt.
   "Keep your jeans where they are. Inside."
   In seconds the hot air of the living room met their faces in a rough and dry  kiss. He went to work right away---kicked off his snowy shoes, scooped her cooperating figure up, deposited her on the couch, and began to systematically strip her.
   "Are you going to check me for ticks or frostbite?" She quipped.
   He did not reply.
   When he was done, he  man-handled her into the kitchen and the straight backed chair near the window. He pulled her shivering body over his lap. Each expletive that flew from her lips gave life to his resolve.
       The palm of his hand landed hard and fast, peppering her squirming rump.
   "Stop it, let me up!" She whined. "I'm cold still."
   His left arm snaked tighter around her lower waist, and he sat taller in the chair, pulling her lower torso closer to his chest, and angling her head closer to the linoleum. It was the securing before the onslaught. Through her breasts and stomach, she felt the muscles in his thighs tighten. It was her cue to completely lose it, to cry, wail, plead. Maybe it would soften his resolve, if ever so slightly.
   "I'm sorry!" She started. "Please, please, please---Owwww!"
   His open palm connected with her thighs. Hard, and then again. And then again. Three times on the same sweet spot. Then three fast and powerful times on her other thigh. It was rhythmic, composed, created to bring about a certain reaction, a certain penance.
   But to her there was not yet a meaning, only pure pain and the resulting anger. Anger at herself for bringing this upon herself. Anger at herself for letting him spank her, for wanting him to spank her.
   He knew how she fought. With showy composure and a steely self-control at first. Then came the word- fighting. Then the real- fighting. It was only after these things were forced into submission could he reach the delicate part he loved most of all. The part that was more her than she would ever admit or want him to know.
   "Owww, why do I have to be naked?" She complained between spanks in an loud whine. "Is this really what it takes to get you off?"
   He moved his blows half an inch lower, increased the number of smacks to four in each spot.
   "Because--Oww! Because we could easily find you something online, and I'm sure--OWW! Damn it!" She whimpered, kicking her legs a tiny bit and gasping out in a rushed string of words, "I'm sure there's some exceptionally violent stuff online. Just perfect for you. It'd-get-you-hot-really-fast! Ow!!" She wailed. "Ow, please, I'm sorry...." Her words digressed into a kind of whimpering mumble.
   He continued smacking her thighs hard. Once in awhile he moved a whack or two upwards, to where the two rounds of her cheeks jiggled in response to his attentions. He did it for two reasons: because he liked to watch it jiggle and because the contrast of the pleasure-ful bottom-smacks only added to the sheer pain he was inflicting on her upper thighs.
   He felt her body stiffen and attempt to roll away. With his free arm, he pressed her against him, hard, clasping her slim waist and hip-bone.He shifted her to his right so that her toes touched the ground. Then he slipped his right leg over her calves, pinning her between his legs. This was undeniably the most effective way to keep her where she needed to be.
 Her body bucked, but he held on as he increased the hardness of the spanks. She was making no noise now, except for the occasional grunt as she attempted to break his hold on her wriggling body. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. His hand came down like a mechanical apparatus, something not attached to him. In fact, it did feel more like an implement than a part of him at this point.
He knew by her closed mouth that she was close, ever so close to that lovely place he wanted her.She had passed the outer stage--the you-can't-spank-me-hard-because-I'm-too-cute-funny-sexy-angry stage. She was in no-man's land right now, and she was trying to find her way out. He was intent on helping her.  It could be  seconds or minutes away. Still, there was the possibility that it could also take hours.
It was sooner this time then he had planned on.
She stopped fighting. Her body went almost limp in his arms. He spanked her several times more, then stopped. Her breathing was deep, slow, steady. It was time.
He breathed deeper too, rested his hand on the curve of her cheeks, then moved up and around in a soothing caress.
Then her brought his hand down lightly on both cheeks. "Get up please." She moved to obey and he steadied her. Yes, the look on her face was right. It was time.
He scooped up his abandoned belt. "Follow me, my love."
In their bedroom he positioned her over the foot of the bed. "Try your hardest to keep this position. Do it for me. Feet stay on the floor."
"Yes, Sir." She breathed.
"Good Girl."
After about 5 hard belt strokes, he asked, "Why did you lie?"
 "I don't know, Sir." Her voice was small, muffled.
He gave her 5 more, harder this time. She bit back a scream. "I'm going to ask you again, love, and I'm not going to stop until you give me an answer besides that one. You have to know of some reason, even if it's only a partial one."
She began to sob into the bed. "Because..." but the rest of her words were muffled and broken by the tears. He dropped down onto the bed and tangled his hand into her hair. "Shhhh...shhhhh... I need you to talk to me. Here, sit up."
She wiped at her nose, and searched his face with bleary eyes. "It was because I was afraid you wouldn't like the truth."
"I always like the truth."
"Only because I lie."
He brought her mouth to his and kissed it hungrily. "That makes no sense."
She kissed him back and then let out a long shuddering sigh. "Can I have a nap, please?"
He looked at her a bit apologetically. "No. No, I'm afraid not. You may, however, stand in that corner over there and think about what you've just said to me. Then we're going to talk more about this."
She slowly stretched and got to her feet. "You just want to cash in on your bet," She grumbled. "You still don't get that I like this."
"Oh I get that." He smiled. "I get that. Hands on your head."
The moment was passed. The process would have to be repeated. But it was alright. He had all night.

100 Things about Me

Yes, I'm treating this blog sort of like a kinky facebook by posting this. Yes, I got this idea from someone else's blog. And no, you probably don't want to spend lots of time reading 100 thing about me. I thought it would be fun to see if I could come up with 100 things anyway.

1. I am a girl. :)
2. When I was 13, I was afraid there would never be a boy taller than me. Then I stopped growing.
3. I used to steal a certain boy's lunch box in 5th grade, just so that he would chase me.
4. I love chocolate, apples, wine, and anything Tai.
5. Books were my best  friends growing up. And they are real.
6. Some books I'm really mean to and just skim for the "good parts". "Good parts" is dialogue and sexy action.
7. Up until age 15, I would never sleep away from home if I could help it.
8. I can play the violin.
9. I can tap dance.
10. I can swing dance (including a bit of lindy), waltz, and fox trot.
11. I am in my early 20's.
12. I love baking and cookies are probably my favorite baking genre.
13. My first day of school, some boy threw a kickball at me whilst I was running the bases, so I came home nursing bloodied knees. And was sure that school was a dangerous place.
14. I have never broken any bones. But I've had one concussion and split my chin open. It's too bad about the bones.
15. The only good thing about winter is Christmas and sledding.
16. I was a bit of a cry baby as a kid.
17. I still cry when I watch a sad movie.
18. I freakin' love sad movies.
19. I have changed my major at least 5 times.
20. When I was 7 or 8 I had many dolls and always a favorite one. I wouldnt' let them know though, and was extremely careful not to let my actions show the truth. I was afraid of hurt feelings and all.
21. I have been on a girl's soccer team.
22. I had asthma which caused me to leave the soccer team.
23. I have acted in one high school play and helped direct another.
24. I dream about plays at least once a week. Usually I'm forgetting lines.
25. I love the BBC.
26. Some of the best songs ever are those by Madonna.
27. Any kind of make-out that involves a car and shoving someone or being shoved up against it is totally hot.
28. Firm beds are the best beds. Soft beds need to be burnt.
29. I have been to Arizona, California, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Maryland, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, New York, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Tennessee, Texas, Washington, and Wisconsin.
30. John Wayne used to be a crush of mine, and I don't really know why. Guess it was all that arrogant forcefulness.  He's fairly annoying now.
31. I resolved to always wear dresses at the age of 8 and upon viewing "How the West Was Fun" with the Olsen Twins. Jeans are my favorite clothing item now.
32. I like holey jeans.
33. I have ridden for about 5 minutes in the trunk of a car, because there were too many people to fit in the car.
34. I used to blush ferociously. Now I just do so on occasion.
35. My parents were my best friends until I went away to college.
36. I used to read every single thing assigned in college, even the footnotes. I was afraid if I didn't, I would be lying when I said I'd read the material.
37. I have naturally light brown/dirty blond hair, but I continually dye it either black or dark dark brown.
38. I used to wish I was African American so I'd look cooler. Now I'm glad I have light skin because spankings show up better.
39. I hate sewing and am not crafty at all.
40. I would call myself a girly-girl leaning on the side of not being girly.
41. I'm afraid of deep water, needles, fire,  and the dark.
42. After being rushed to the emergency room because of an asthma attack and being given an injection of something in the backside, I almost fainted. As the room started spinning and getting dark, and my stomach started fluttering all over, I thought, "See, girl, this is what you get for liking spankings and your own bottom...."
43. I drove for over 8 hours to receive my first real spanking.
44. I fantasized about the puma from "The Jungle Book" Disney cartoon when I was 7 years old. He made an awesome dom.
43. I once thought that belt-whippings were only for weak men with no arm muscles.
44. I once broke a wooden plaque in my parents' living room by paddling myself with it.
45. The only steak I met that I ever liked was a one-time occurrence.
46. Scrubs is the best tv show ever.
47. I can't sleep while wearing a thong.
48. I hate fat pillows. Only thin pillows will do.
49. I hate sleeping in cold air with piles of blankets. Too many blankets make me claustrophobic.
50. I love jogging-running, especially when doing it often.
51. I have been held at gun-point by a drunken man.
52. If I could morph myself into any actress, I think I would choose Audrey Hepburn. But it would be a hard choice.
53. I've probably seen more old black and white movies than any of you old fogies out there.
54. My favorite author is either Madeline L'Engle or Toni Morrison.
54. I don't like mystery, fantasy, or action books.
55. I once cheated on a test in Junior High. It wasn't exactly intentional, and I felt so guilty I confessed after class.
56. I have kept some sort of diary ever since I was 12.
57. If someone has an accent, it automatically makes them much cooler.
58. I love Euro-90's dance music.
59. Guys should always shave their facial hair.
60. Men and dress clothes are the two hottest combinations pretty much ever.
61. Leather smells amazing. Leather saddles, leather belts, leather shoes. Leather coats. Leather wallets. Did I say leather belts?
62. Short skirts may be more exciting to me than panties.
63. One day I would like to write a full length movie about someone who is kinky.
64. I love sandwiches---hummus, tuna, and tomato and mayonnaise being 3 of my favorite kinds.
65. Ice cream will make everything okay.
66. I can't stay still for long. Especially when sitting in classrooms at college. I'm continually switching sitting positions, sliding down in my chair, sitting back up straight, etc.
67. If I could be friends with myself, I think I'd only want to hang out like twice a month.
68. I love mountain climbing/hiking with no ropes.
69. Summer is the best season ever. Winter is the season of death.
70. One day I want to live on a coast, somewhere, somehow.
71. I used to want to join the army just because I liked the uniform.
72. Tables and desks are the furniture items that cause me to fantasize about spanking the most. Especially in classrooms.
73. I don't like gray cloudy days or rain or snow.
74. I love coffee, tea, hot chocolate, chai.
75. I could people watch for at least an hour every day.
76. My favorite car is a Porsche.
77. When I wake up in the morning, my first thought is usually about spanking.
78. I have worked in 3 libraries, 4 retail or grocery stores, and 1 restaurant.
79. My favorite color for panties and bras is stark white.
80. One day I will write a book about my life, and it will spark controversy about sex, religion, and such.
81. Some day I want to be tied up and spanked all day long---like a in a torture chamber.
82. I love it when people get mad. But if it lasts too long, then I feel bad. And then I usually apologize.
83. I love being told "no" by a top.
84. When I was 12,  I would draw pictures of paddles and then scribble them out so no one could find the evidence.
85. Shirley Temple was my child crush and role-model for a long time. I still think she's adorable.
86. I think one of the best things about me is how hard I try if I decide I really want something. Deciding I really want it is the issue though.
87. My favorite color is blue.
88. My favorite pizza is every vegetable there is out there plus Italian sausage.
89. I was a vegan for a year.
90. I was spanked as a child and have actually seen (and heard) my siblings be spanked. Most times, it usually made me terribly angry.
91. I have been to a psychologist because I wanted to deal with my spanking kink. It didn't work. It merely disappeared for a time.
92. I have been spanked by at least 2 vanilla boys. Butt- slapped by at least 4 vanilla boys. Hmmm...nothing compares to the real thing by a real guy.
93. I love card games, hate monopoly, and love/hate games like cranium and any kind of acting/make-a-fool-of-yourself games.
94. My favorite implement is the dude's hand.
94. My favorite position is OTK. Next comes lying on a bed or arm of a sofa.
95. I am an early bird, but my awesome, top/dom-boyfriend is trying to reform me.
96. My life became 50% better when I found out that liking to be spanked hard was okay.
97. One of the primary reasons I dated my first boyfriend (vanilla) was that I told him about my spanking kink and he didn't run away screaming. I thought there might be no one else as accepting as he.
98. I will always be my daddy's little girl (real father of course).
99. I think it'd be fun to study some form of combat--martial arts, boxing, or wrestling. Maybe wrestling.
100. I love rooftops, towers, airplanes, mountains, and all high places. I would put sub-space in this category as well.

A School Girl Again

School has started up once again. I am not in the mood for it.I hate every overwhelming moment of the beginning of the semester. But I am good at replacing my fear with other stuff.  I know this precisely because my mind twists, tangles, and grabs at different professor's words and situates them in my own spanko world. And I then become highly entertained.

For example:

"You will submit each paper by...." says one prof...Submitting? Ooooo...that sounds cool. It's true, turning in papers is kind of like submitting. Submitting to the work. Submitting to the grade they give you. Oooooo.

"You will present on one reading..." says another prof. I like how he said "will" like that. Like we have no other choice. All authoritatively. It takes a certain kind of sternness to talk shy students into getting up in front. And it helps me cope with the idea that I must do so too when I can focus on the sexiness of the words...and not what they actually mean.

"You can't just have the beat in this kind of song; you must have a the lyric..." spouts a prof. And I think, no, it's the other way around. No music without a good beating.

"Your presentation is going to be a fairly intense process, " says another prof. "We're going to need to develop a good trust relationship in order for you to understand how you're doing in the process of creating it." And I think, hmmm....an intense experience involving lots of trust...this is going to be interesting. When do I get to visit your office?

Then the ultimate crowd pleaser: "We won't have quizzes unless you force me to give you them," says a very dommy and beautiful lady professor. "I will beat you with the stick if I have to, but preferably you are going to run after the carrot yourself."
Nothing needs be said about that one.

Punishment in the Morning

It was my Punishment Spanking morning. College Guy and I had planned it to fall towards the middle of his visit. It was to be on a day when the roommates would be away. And if they came home for some reason, we could postpone to the next day. I was ready for this ,sort of. When I have a real punishment coming my way, I feel a kind of peace that's hard to explain. This can scare me sometimes....it seems unhealthy--that I would need the promise of punishment, lurking in the distance, in order to feel my best.

So maybe I didn't actually feel my best beforehand. There were all the signs of me not feeling my best.

The day before I had been a complete brat, over and over and over again. And it wasn't even on purpose. We were trying out a new idea--I would be his submissive for the hours before my roommates came home. But it wasn't working out perfectly. Some stuff went well. But then there was the problem of my mouth. College Guy would say something, and I'd say something directly opposing whatever he said. Then I'd stare at him, my lips pushed out slightly, eyes squinting, daring him to do something. Maybe it was because I already knew I was getting spanked hard in the morning. This is what My Magician calls the Erica- Syndrome...But College Guy did do something about it. There was the time when he hauled me over his lap in the living room and delivered numerous swats to my bottom because I'd asked him "Why?" in a pouty tone. As he spanked and I yelped softly, trying not to giggle, he asked, "Do I need to grap the strap from my bag?" I don't remember what I said. Something like "No. " Then a few seconds later, I asked "Is your hand hurting yet, and maybe you should stop?" He got the strap. And I began to worry about the punishment spanking at that point. Cause that strap wasn't pretty. There were other spankings that day. I began to feel guilty about how often I was making him stop what we were doing to spank me. But only a little guilty. The rest of me couldn't get enough of it.

That next day, I got enough of it.

The Punishment was very much deserved, I thought. The night before, about an hour before we fell asleep, I curled up next to him on his bed, and just talked. I talked about what I felt about what had happened that was resulting in the punishment. That I didn't think anything could make up for it. For what I'd done. That I didn't know if I was going to cry. That he needed to be prepared for me not to cry. That I didn't want him to see me cry. That I didn't want to hurt him more, and I felt like him spanking me was just hurting him more.

He let me say everything I wanted to. And we snuggled next to each other, and he told me how he felt about it.
That he was so glad I could come to him and tell him exactly what I was feeling.
 That I could cry or not cry.
That he wanted me to just be who I was in the moment.
 That he wanted this too.
That this would help him deal with what happened. It takes a strong man to admit to such a thing.

The next morning I slept past my alarm. I rushed into the bathroom and heard his door open. What in the world? He is not about to say I missed my shower.... I'm getting a shower before my spanking.... I will make it happen...  So  I jump  into the shower, with something like 8 min. before I am supposed to be out and eating breakfast with College Guy. Within a minute or two, he knocks on the door. "Yes?" I say nonchalantly. But I can't hear what he's saying throught he door,  so I turn the water off.

"Hurry up, Bonnie-jo. You need to be done soon."

I fight back the urge to say, "We have hours and hours. Stop being so strict." But I know I am supposed to be giving this to him. I know I want to give this to him. It's the least I can do. I bite back my tongue and say sweetly, "Okay, I'm almost done."

I step out of the shower and hear him knock again.

"Yes?"

"Open the door."

"I'm not done yet."

"Open the door now."

I grimace, pull the towel to my chest, and unlock the door. It swings open. "Good morning." I say, grinning. He smiles back. "You want me to make you some cereal; I'm making me some."

"Sure. You got up earlier than I expected. I...uh..I kinda slept in."

"I noticed." He turns my shoulder with one hand and slaps my glistening bottom hard. It would normally be a romantic moment, but I bite my lip, catch my expression in the mirror,  and look down. Embarrassed.

He slaps twice more. "You will hurry up, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" Slap.

"Yes, Sir."

I hardly taste my breakfast, and then he asks if I'm ready. He leads me to the corner and tells me to take down my jeans, my panties. Not off, just down. I put my hands on my head. He gives me 15 minutes. He says that if I need 15 more afterwards to wrap my head around what's about to happen, I can let him know. One minute goes by, and I know that I won't need 15 minutes more. I want this spanking over with.

I am out of the corner, holding out my wrists for the bongage rope. It's soft and black. He ties an expert knot, and I break my silence. "Did you google that?"
"Yup."

The knot is involved, and then it's done. My hands are clasped in front of me. For good. And all I can think is, I'm sorry....Why did I do what I did.... I lie over the love-seat's arm, and Gepetto, the bathbrush, is in his hands. The first stroke is like nothing I've felt before, or at least, so I thought at the time. I jump up, and simultaneously crumple in a heap at the foot of the love-seat.

I realize now that I hardly looked at him this entire time. I don't know why. Tops should have good voices, I have decided. Because sometimes, through the pain and emotional turmoil, it's all that will get in.

"Bonnie-jo, get up. Get back over the sofa."

I'm still gasping from the blow. " I can't!" I whimper. "Owwwwww. "

But somehow I'm back over the arm of the sofa, and he begins using the bathbrush somewhat more kindly, but not by much.  "Did you think it wouldn't hurt?" He asks.

I remain quiet, except for more whimpering.

"Well, did you?" He smacks extra hard.
"I don't know!" I wail.

He lectures a lot. About who I let down. About all the reasons what I did was wrong.

Then I am over his knee. I dangle there for at least a minute, because he says he wants me to understand where I am, what's about to happen, that I am with him. Despite the pain and the anguish of the earlier bathbrushing, I am glad I am where I am. My breathing deepens, and I relax slightly.

After the handspanking, I am positioned back over the arm of the sofa. And he picks up the cane.

The strokes are well spaced out. I have time to writhe and sob after each one, then compose myself and wait. Until he comes to a certain part in his lecture.

"One of the hardest parts for me, Bonnie-jo, was that you yourself admit that you could have been in real phsyical danger. You have told me that you think there was a high chance of that. That you knew the situation was dangerous and you didn't get yourself out of it." The cane falls and I bite back a scream.

"You have joked around with this in the past. You have no idea what you're joking about. You need to be more careful. For yourself. I don't think you understand even the slightest what it would be like. So my job is to give you a taste of that, so you never play around with that idea again." And the cane falls faster. And I find myself biting back the word "No".

And this is where I stop thinking about what I've done. There does come a point where you have to. I hate what happened. I hate how stupid I was. But this spanking is hurting too much to focus on the pain I had caused our relationship and him. So I let it go, I stop thinking about it. All I can focus on is getting through this spanking.

"What did you get out of your experience, Bonnie-j?" His voice drifts down to me through the muddle of my brain. The cane stops. And I look up at him.

There is some kind of retort at the back of my brain. Something like, "It made me feel beautiful and powerful." But I say nothing.

"It's not a rhetorical question."

"Uhmmm...." I try to think what the right answer is. He is way too young to be playing the what- color- am- I -thinking- of- professor- game.

The cane falls fast. Then again. And I'm trying to wriggle away, but he has one hand on my upper back, holding me in place.

"I want an answer. Maybe if I cane you enough you'll think of an answer--"

And I blurt, "Wait! Well...well...nothing really." It's the best answer I can come up with.

He takes it.

We switch to the 3-holed paddle, but by this time, I see an end in sight. I know I will live past this spanking.

I don't remember much else that follows. The spanking continues, but most of the details are gone in that buzzy, dark place called sub-space.

At the very end he puts me in the corner. He doesn't know it, but now the tears trickle down my face. It is usually this way. The full impact of what happens in a spanking comes at the very end.

I sniff a bit and surreptitiously wipe my nose on my shoulder, my hands clasped on top of my head. I still feel pathetic for my offense and for the reason this spanking happened.

He comes up behind me, "I"m getting some water from the kitchen; would you like a glass?"

"No, thank you." I say coldly, not meeting his eyes. I don't deserve water. I don't deserve anything. But what I want now more than anything is a hug that doesn't end, because I'm about to fall apart.

He comes back from the kitchen with his water and leads me to the couch. I  cuddle next to him and bury my face in his shoulder, and just breathe. It's going to be okay.

"There Is No Great Dark Man"

I saw a movie a couple weeks ago on hulu. I love hulu because it's free. The movie was entitled "The Naked Civil Servant", and it's based on the autobiography of a blatant homosexual man living in England during the time when practicing homosexuality was against the law. The main character, Quentin Crisp,  is always waiting for the man of his dreams to come along, the man he terms " a great dark man". In the end of the movie, he admits that there is no great dark man. It isn't the end of the world or hugely depressing; it's just a fact. It's a beautiful movie in my opinion. Quentin's dialogue and narration are spectacular, and it adds large ammounts of support to the fact that if I were ever to become a man, I would want to be a homosexual. And if I could ever change my sex, I might do so in order to be a man in love with a man. I'm sorry that such a thought makes many of my readers uncomfortable, but it's just my personal feeling. Guess I like men a lot.
But this post is not about homosexuality but instead about the wish for a great dark man, as Quentin wished for. I understand his thought, at least partially. I googled the phrase and found his autobiography on google books. Here he explains how women tend to wish for the same thing--a rough, violent, potentially dangerous man. However, women have to temper this attraction with an opposite attraction towards a kind, gentle, thoughtful nature--a man who would make a good husband and a good father for her children.
In a D/S, Top/Bottom  kind of relationship, I find the same dualism. In my search for a man who can control and dominate me in certain ways, I know there will be a conflicting wish for a man who will also release me when I want to be released. You cannot always have what you want.
As a child I dreamed of this great dark man--except he was only half great and dark. The other part was light and not dark, kind and not cruel.This is always the case. One does not wish for a man that would like to confine, stagnate, bind, and kill. These are miniscule spices thrown into the mix, there only for aroma and flavor, and not for consistency.  The consistency of a relastionship such as the one I want to have would contain things like respect for one another, mutual trust, forgiveness, joy, humor, sacrifice, thoughtfulness, ingenuity, and growth. I don't really know what I'm talking about. But I know that the elements of D/S can only be part of a relationship.
Still, that does not keep me from yearning for them. That doesn't keep me from fantasizing about a great dark man who would control in all aspects.
College Guy has grown into domness by leaps and bounds and at times by stealthy centimeters apparent only when something important needs to be dealt with in our relationship. And each time I see the changes, I thrill in the fact that I get to be his girlfriend and submissive.
But this is not always so. Sometimes I fight the very thing I supposedly want. When he wants to know my deepest, darkest secrets or desires or anxieties, I shy away from opening up. I'm afraid. Why should I give him more control if he is not the great dark man. Maybe there is no great dark man. Maybe there is no great dark man, as Quentin said.