Our dear friend Bonnie's blog is closed, but she and Randy are still very enthusiastic about spanking. She recently wrote about her latest trip over his knee, and has kindly given me permission to post it here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I read it.
Why I'm a Bad Girl
My dear husband Randy tells me I'm a bad girl. Bad girls get spanked. I knew that.
I was out shopping recently for most of a Saturday afternoon. I got carried away, but I found a lot of good stuff for both of us. When I returned home, Randy was concerned because I had not informed him of my plans. I should have texted.
The situation was quickly resolved through the vigorous application of a small wooden paddle to my bare seat. I squirmed and squealed, but the experience was not altogether unpleasant. I told him that I appreciated his well-practised technique. He grumbled, but I replied that I wasn't being sarcastic. He is a genuine expert at delivering this sort of corporal punishment. He spanks hard and it always hurts, but there's no lasting damage back there and my mood is brightened.
That was when he informed me I was a bad girl. I'm not supposed to enjoy my punishments. But I love them and I do a poor job of hiding it. He pulled me over his lap and spanked me again. This time he employed the smooth side of a serious long-handled brush. This felt like a longer, harder spanking that hurt way more coming so soon after he paddled me. By the time he lost interest in tenderizing my bottom, it was throbbing.
A quick trip to the bathroom confirmed my suspicions. He left deep red marks on me! Rubbing provided no relief.
When I returned to the living room, Randy asked to see my bottom again. So I hiked my skirt and bent forward for inspection. His fingers lightly traced the crimson memories he painted on my skin. Even this was painful. I flinched at one point and he chuckled as if with pride in his work.
"Do you feel punished now?" "Yes," I meekly replied. Definitely.
"Did you deserve your spankings?" "Yes, sir."
"Do you still like your punishments?" A lie here would have been easily detected. When freshly spanked, I read like an open book. The truth was that this was a delicious punishment. I knew that I would almost certainly feel the after-effects the following day. I don't desire one of those soul-shaking spankings every time, but when they happen, I drink up the endorphins.
"Um, yeah?" My voice emerged as a mere squeak.
"Of course you do. You're a very bad girl and that's one big reason I love you!"
For a brief instant, I thought a third spanking might be headed my way. Instead, he took me out for dinner. It was pleasant on the patio and our Mexican salads were fresh and tasty, though sitting on an unpadded metal chair constantly reminded me of my bad girl status.
Sometimes being the bad girl can be good.
Thank you, Bonnie, for sharing that spanking with us!
Slava Ukraini
Glory to Ukraine
