The other side

There was no denying as I watched, naked, from the doorway who those restraints you were attaching to the bed were for. That soon I would willingly place my hands in the velcroed enclosures and offer you my bottom as penance. I wanted to look away, to pretend that this was not happening. But you were still there, head bent as you prepared the area for my punishment.

I'd already been forgiven before you started scolding me. My tears had already fallen before you warmed me over your knees.

Now you were giving me something to remember: I am yours. I gave you the right to protect me and, in doing so, you bear a great responsibility toward me, toward us. I can't just say the words -- I must let you protect me. But I didn't. I am so accustomed to protecting myself that I disregarded your warnings and your direct order. I was wrong.

This is the other side of spanking. This is the side I do not enjoy. I do not like being held accountable, but I expect you to. I do not enjoy crying because I disappointed you and undermined what we'd built together.

I do not like what you are about to do, but I know that it is necessary.

You were not angry; your words were soft. You placed a pillow on the end of the bed to raise and protect my hips and motioned to me. Fidgeting and ashamed at my complete nakedness, I crossed the room and took the expected position: my hands near the restraints, waiting; my hips pressed against the cushioned foot board, lifting my warmed bottom.

And you gave me a choice. Which implement would you use first -- the thick wooden paddle or the stiff pink crop? Knowing this, knowing that both would be used, cemented the gravity of my actions.

It began and ended as a blur I'd rather forget. I don't want to remember my tearful pleas, or the way I pulled against the restraints trying to escape the paddle, and, later, the crop. I don't want to remember my howls and repeated apologies, my tears falling on the bedsheets.

But I remember. And I remember the moments of us together afterward, your tenderness, the way you held me and kissed away my lingering guilt.

I remember. I remember that I am yours.


(First photo of Caroline Lannon courtesy of Firm hand spanking.)