Scary Spanking Mojo

I scared myself yesterday...because my spanking mojo came back with a vengeance. I have struggled a bit for the past semester with the thought that I  might not really be a spanko. It seemed as if whenever College Guy and I were able to meet up at a hotel for the night (only twice in the whole semester..way too little time!), I would go through initial excitement over him spanking me and then quickly spiral down down down into a freak-out because the spankings hurt and I didn't like the pain part of it. He would always lighten them up (only a bit if it were a punishment one) and we'd proceed as though things were normal.

It's interesting to try to figure it all out. The best explanation we have come up with is that my spanking pain level changes based on a lot of things, but particularly on how tired I am and the mood I'm in.

Usually, College Guy has spanked an exhausted Bonnie-jo. This last semester has been slightly horrendous in how busy it has constantly made me.

Yesterday, however, I was not tired. Not mentally and not physically. College Guy had been visiting me for the weekend, and we'd done a ton of fun, relaxing things. It was our last day together. I'd made us noodles with chicken and alfredo sauce .We drank a bottle of wine and snuggled on the couch.

We had been doing spanko and sexual things all weekend. I felt like I should be giving him a break, and I knew I had tired him out a bit as we lay on the couch together. But wine does funny things to me, and the more I tried to concentrate on the movie we were watching on Comedy Central (good channel, btw), the more I wanted to....hmm...do something...

I wanted a spanking, I wanted to have sex. I wanted something. But for some reason, my request came out oddly, "So when do I get to give you your birthday spanking you promised me I could give you?" I purred into his ear. I know, I know, folks...you're shocked. The truth is, College Guy told me that even though he is the top and I'm the bottom, I can give him the number of birthday swats around his birthday if I want to. I had not done so, because honestly, I never wanted to. But in the heat of the moment, I felt like if I couldn't have my naked bottom over his knee, at least maybe he'd let me have his. Weird logic, I know...and it was only 2 glasses of wine....

He crawled over my lap good-naturedly, and I took my time. It was kind of fun..and at one point, when my hand came away, I actually saw a pink mark underneath it. I can see the draw just a little bit. Still, as I neared the end, I began to worry a bit. Number one, how can he claim that he's "neutral" about me giving him a playful birthday spanking? And two, what was he going to do to me afterwards? Or would he do anything?

I finished and he promptly got up and told me that I knew he would have to pay the favor back. I was glad. But my mood was worse. Part of me was freaked that I had just spanked him and almost enjoyed it. And part of me was more freaked at how far I would go to get any kind of reaction out of him--to do anything kinky--I was hungry for it. So hungry. Like a vegetarian ready to eat a steak.

He told me to get over his lap and I did something I do when I decide to be entirely selfish and try to get what I want exactly how I want it. I fought him; I stiffened up. He tried to flip me over and I tried hard to stay on my back.

The rest is hard to remember. He started "Bonnie-jo-ing" me, sternly, warningly. I didn't answer. He counted, telling me it would be Gepetto and not just his hand if he got to count number 3. I missed the number. And the whole time I was watching his reactions hungrily, loving them, telling myself inside, "See he really can take control. Just because it's not always this way doesn't mean it's not there, ready to come out for later. It's going to be okay. He can do it."

He motioned me over his lap as he sat on the couch we'd just been watching tv on. I gave him my most seductive look and sat on his lap, "Please don't spank me" I said, making my eyes wide, kissing him. Yes, playing dirty and lying--that's what I was doing. But I was over his knee in no time and being bath brushed, and I wiggled and whimpered my way through it. But really I just wanted more. And I hated myself for it. Not because it's wrong to want more spankings!!! Please don't get me wrong folks. I just felt so guilty for the way I felt I'd dragged this spanking out of him. I'd played dirty. I hadn't asked him for it. I hadn't waited for it, for a time when he actually wanted to spank me too. He'd already spanked me just that morning. I'd forced him to punish me. I'd given him little choice.

He realized the spanking wasn't getting through. "Get up for a second."  He stalked off to my bedroom. Then I heard. "Bonnie-jo, where's your cane?"

"Nooo, don't cane me. " I tossed back.

He came around the corner of my bedroom door and shot me a look, hands on hips. "You will tell me where it is, or I will paddle you with the huge paddle. Choose which one you want."

It was a hard choice. But I found the cane (it took a bit of searching).

I handed it to him and he walked over to the couch. "Kneel on the couch." I winced through the caning, but I wasn't even feeling that. Not really.

It was his words that hurt more. His kind, loving words. "Why are you doing this? What's going on? Talk to me. We don't have to be doing this. If you can tell me what's going one we can talk this out."

I refused to talk though. And shot him dirty looks whenever he mentioned talking. He said something about needing to "break me a little bit", that he felt that was what I was asking for. I responded with some kind of throaty moan.....yes, it was true. That's what I wanted.

At one point he asked me a question. I didn't respond. "You can't even say 'Yes, Sir' right now, can you?" I just stared ahead, out the window in front of the couch I was kneeling on. Shook my head the tiniest bit. Glared out the window.

And then he stopped caning me like in a normal caning. You know, the kind-top, Swish!!!  then 8 seconds of a break, then Swish!! then 8 seconds of a break. This was consecutive cane strokes, one after the other after the other. Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish! That got through to me fairly fast, but in a way, I still didn't want him to stop.

But he did. And I knew why. I had been struggling because of how fast the strokes had become and he had pulled me over the arm of the sofa, my head angled toward the ground. "Watch your head near the end table, dear. " He threw out in the middle of the flurry of cane strokes. "I will!" I assured between sobs. (Yes, a nice sign we are true spankos. It's kind of like having two totally different conversations at the same time.)But then he broke off mid-stroke, paused, and touched my bottom gingerly. I started sobbing...not because I was hurt or in pain, but because I knew he was going to stop now. Of course, just  my luck, I was bleeding a tiny bit. I felt guilty. I knew he doesn't like it when that happens and that it has to be a very important punishment for him to think of continuing and working around the spot. I felt wrong enough making him spank me--no way would I try to act out and make him continue now.

My weeping picked up in intensity. I just didn't want it to be over.  "Are you okay, dear?" He asked, and I gasped and caught my breath, trying to stop crying. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"Keep both hands on that floor, do you understand? I'll be right back."

"Yes, Sir." I breathed.

He stepped into the bathroom and brought back a tissue to apply to the tiny spot on my bottom.

I got back up into the kneeling position I'd started out in. "Look at me, Bonnie-jo." He said in a compassionate, kind voice. I was so upset and I felt so ugly. I couldn't' look at him when I felt so despicable...I was afraid he'd see how I felt all over my face and think I really was horribly ugly. "No..." I sobbed into the couch corner, hiding. I knew I had to get it together though. Sooner or later, he'd move my hair back and pull my face to look at his. So I breathed slowly, deeply, cleared my throat, sniffled. Moved my hair from my face. And looked at him.

"I'm sorry." I said.

"It's okay. But what just happened?"

"I don't know..I ...I got scared. I was afraid I was too much for you...."

"Alright. I want you to go stand in that corner for 5 minutes. I think it's important you have some time to think and calm down. Leave your jeans and panties down."

I waddled over and stood in the corner. "It's okay, girl, you're okay. You're going to be fine. You can do this. You're not crazy to have wanted that. " I whispered this to myself, quietly. "Get it together for him. Stop. Stop, now. Breathe. It's over now. It's okay. It's okay."

It helped a bit. And when I came back to him, we talked it all out. Many times during that talking-it-out conversation, I almost reverted back to where I'd been, ("Watch your step, missy, I will cane you again, you're not out of the woods yet"--was his threat) but no matter how much I still wanted him to cane me, I knew it was an emotional  slippery slope at the moment. I needed to get out of the funk. The only way to do that was to talk and to stop freaking out.

I'm still kind of scared though. I'm still not quite sure what happened. It was like nothing that he did would be enough. Nothing. I scared myself into believing it.

It's going to be an interesting ride. In very little time, I will no longer be a college student. I"ll walk down the aisle, receive my diploma, and move to College Guy's state.

He'll still be College Guy, but I'll no longer be a "College Spanko". Exciting times, scary times. I want to do justice to these moments. I hope I will.

It's going to be an interesting ride.