An apology

I'm sorry that you must spank me.

I know what an imposition this is. I know you hate it when I unbutton my pants and stand before you, my anxiety at the impending events weighing on your conscience so much that you later lose sleep -- recounting those moments when my eyes plead, "no, please"; your memory looping to the moment when I finally concede and push my pants down.

I hate to be the cause of a guilty conscience.

So let me appease some of your guilt.

When I pause, mid-reveal, and bite my lip, my real concern isn't that you are about to spank me. No, I understand at that point why you must.



My concern is, while you are feeling guilty and your gut is twisting with disappointment from my misbehavior, that you will notice how wet I am. You see, I know I should feel sorry for what I've done -- and I do! But that remorse battles with my desire for this to happen -- and my body wins every time.

And when I beg you to allow my panties to remain up, it's not that I truly detest you spanking my bare bottom, it is that I fear I might leave a tell-tale spot on your thigh during the administration of your discipline. How naughty would that be?

I am incorrigible.



Will it help if I look at you and then down at my feet and give you the most sincere apology that I can?

I'm sorry I enjoy what you do to me. I am sorry that my actions put us here, in this position -- you lecturing me and me honestly feeling guilty, but still aroused. Undoubtedly aroused.

Can you ever forgive me for that?

I know I'm not in any position to ask for a favor. But next time, before you start disciplining me, can you please see for yourself how naughty I really am? If you spanked me for that, I would know true forgiveness, Sir.