Sensitive to Hard Spankings

I think I'm growing into more and more of a wimp by the day. Is it the full time job? Maybe it's having drunk wayyyyy too much wine at some Christmas celebrations this past weekend? Or maybe it's the fact that although I still dream about spanking at night, and although thoughts of it still distract me at work sometimes, I don't enter a spanking in some kind of fantasized other world, one in which endorphins and heightened excitement numb me to what is happening and there is a slight disconnect between mind and body, or should I say, mind and bottom.

Today I was to be punished, and College Guy told me I could pick between 6 cane strokes or 50 bathbrush strokes. I've picked between these choices before, and last time, I picked the bathbrush. Silly me. I was thinking that bathbrushes could never hurt as much as a cane, and that's perfectly true. Still, he gave me no warm up and it felt like he was swinging nearly as hard as he could on a my not-warmed-up bottom.

That was last time. So this time, I deliberated. And deliberated. And then deliberated some more. College Guy got antsy watching me scrunch my face in concentration and saying "Wait, wait, I'm thinking" and wordlessly began holding up fingers in front of my face, like a referee at a soccer match. I tried to put his fingers back down, but he has strong fingers.

"If I get to 10 and you haven't picked yet, I'm picking the cane", he warned, and then "Come on, Bonnie-jo...nine......"

"Okay, " I rush. "The cane the cane the cane. But can't I have it lying on the bed."

"No. I want you over the arm of the couch."

I like the bed. It's comforting. I can concentrate on relaxing better. There are covers to cry into as well.

Anyway, so I got over the arm of the couch, with a pillow underneath me and looked over my shoulder at him. Just a small note to anyone out there: don't look at the person caning you. It cements in your mind what is  about to happen. It's horrible. Don't do it unless you're prepared to start wiggling in uncomfortable anticipation. And, if you're like me, you'll also start whimpering "I can't, I can't"  and simultaneously hoping he feels sorry for you while also hoping he doesn't give in.

Well, he didn't give in. That first cane stroke made me squeal. The second had me sobbing and sitting on the floor. I was angry. Why did it hurt so much? What was wrong with me? And what was wrong with him in being okay with treating me this way?

He told me to get up, but I stayed on the floor wiping at my eyes and glaring at him with my most reproachful face. Who did he think he was?

He sat down on the bed next to our couch and pulled me to him so that I was on my knees, clasped between his legs.  "Bonnie-jo, do you remember what you said before you told me what you had done?"

"Uhh...a bunch of lies?"

"After that. You said if I broke up with you over this, you would understand."

I just nodded. Although the confession of what had gone on seemed so far behind me, that I couldn't imagine him breaking up with me over it, I tried to latch onto that one thought, that him breaking up with me would be so much worse than a spanking. He wasn't threatening to break up with me if I didn't take this punishment. That is not him at all. He was just trying to help me see how important this spanking was, and more so, how weighty what I had done to deserve/need the spanking was.

So we agreed to let him use the bathbrush and switch from the cane. I went over his lap, and he immediately pinned my legs with his leg. It was foreboding, nah, it was downright frightening. Two slaps of that wicked brush on my cheeks and I was whimpering and slightly hyperventilating. It was weird for me. I felt out of control as I wiggled under his pinning leg. Swats number 3 and 4 were dealt, and I began sobbing.

It was weird. And thankfully College Guy saw that too. He stopped and rubbed my back, saying "You're okay, you're okay." He just sat quietly, stroking my back and then my stinging bottom.

Then, "Bonnie-jo, I've decided to give you a warm up. You're way more sensitive and you need it."

My sobs and breathing quieted as he began slowly and methodically slapping my bottom with his hand. It didn't even hurt at first, and then it began stinging, but only moderately. I didn't understand why he was being so kind, but oh, how it warmed my heart. And it made me feel guilty at the same time. I didn't deserve his mercy.

After the warm up had gone on for a minute or so, I put my hand back. "I'm good now. I think I'm warmed up. I don't want you to do it too much." I was trying to take at least part of the punishment I deserved and needed, but I think he saw it partially for what it was, me trying to be helpful, but also as something un-submissive.

"Move your hand", he said as he unnecessarily moved it away himself. "I will let you know when your warm up is over."

"I'm just trying to help." I explain.

And then he broke out the bathbrush, and I cried again, but not as much this time. And at one point, he told me, because I've been worried about making two much noise in our small apartment complex, and I've told him how scary it is not to be able to make as much noise as I want to, anyway, he told me at one point, "Just so you know, you're not being too loud. You might sound louder to yourself than you actually are. You're doing fine, okay."

He warms my heart. And even though I did doubt him in the middle of parts of the spanking, when all I could think was "am I crazy?" and "he must be!", I knew that he loves me. And I know it even more now than before he spanked me. Thank you, my College Guy.