Anniversary spanking, anyone?
"When we get there, I'm going to spank you in our suite. Just because I can."
It made me shudder. In a good way. Sort of.
Daddy rarely spanks me just because. I'm not a brat (although there are some that would definitely disagree with that statement . . . :) ) and I don't do bratty things to get attention, because I get more than enough of it as it is - almost all positive. I'm counting the spankings as negative because they friggin' hurt, although they should really be counted in both categories.
But beyond being his grown up little girl, I'm also his sub (and his domestically disciplined wife), and if that's what he wants to do, then I will submit.
It's the submitting that makes me shudder. Not the spanking. Just like it's the remembering that makes me wet, not the spanking.
Punishment spankings - which are the only type I get - hurt. There's no way around it.
But the memories . . . of being tugged over his lap. Of having to lie there while he hitches his fingers under my panties, having already given me several rounds of "warm up" swats that feel a helluva lot more like good old fashioned hard smacks than any kind of toned down precursor . . . until he begins the "real" spanking . . .
Those are the lusty gold of this type of relationship, for us. It's in the intent, and consistency, and the history of all of the time we've spent together in such intimate situations, sharing that butterflies-in-my-tummy knowledge that he can - and will - spank me any time he wants to.
I hope the rooms are well-insulated . . .