In position

"Arms straight out. Keep them there!" he reminds me, punctuating his last words with a heavy thwap of the paddle.

I reach my arms out and wind my hands in the comforter, improvising a restraint since I can't seem to manage the position on my own.

Once upon a time I could lie still and give only the faintest indication that the spanking was having an impact. That time has passed. For some reason, whether he has become more forceful in his administration or my tolerance has decreased or I am more comfortable with showing my reactions, I now have a hard time staying in place.

This is, of course, met with disdain as all good girls know that holding the position is of the utmost importance.



I want to be a good girl. I really do. But I just can't seem to manage it. Before I'm even aware, my hands are sneaking back, my legs are straightening of their own volition. My body is saying, "no more!", while my mind screams, "behave!"

I tell my hands to obey but they are stubborn. I tell my hips to press against the pillow but they'd prefer to rise and revolt. It would seem I have no control over my own body parts.



I don't think he expects my legs to stay firmly on the floor; he can't expect that I will stay entirely still. But when my body twists away from his hand or paddle or strap, when my hands sneak back to offer protection, that is when I get the verbal, and then physical, reminder to stay in position.

And even though his voice, dressed in stern disdain, denies it, I know that he secretly enjoys this dance I perform for him. It does, after all, give him even more reason to spank me longer, harder, more thoroughly.

As if he needs an excuse.