I had been caned 6 times and hair brushed over College guy's knee. But the more he spanked, the more horrible I felt. It's like I had been expecting that the spanking would make up for my actions, would somehow equal them.
"Do you want more, Bonnie-jo?" He asked.
I sat up on our bed and scootched away from him.
"No, I don't. But, if you're still mad at me, I want you to let your anger out. So do what you want to do."
"I don't need to do that."
And I'm not sure if I was just trying to put it on him, as I always do. Really, I was angry at myself. I was angry that I once again was dealing with a problem that would not go away, no matter how much time I spent trying to fix it.
I said something bratty and difficult and he pulled me over his lap again. He spanked the way I knew he would--so fast I could barely catch my breath and stifle my yelps into the bedspread. It was close to what I wanted. Really, I just wanted to stop feeling bad, my usual self-serving plight. But then he suddenly stopped the hairbrush and lay down on the bed with me, pulling me to him.
It's kindness that brings me to real tears. It almost always is. So I made his shirt wet and sniffled as he held me tight to him, telling me that it was alright, it was alright.
And even though I attempted to pull away angrily at least 5 times, I know now that it probably is going to be alright. Probably.
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