We were on my bed in my room when she gently pulled me over her lap. The lights were off, but there was a candle burning on my dresser. I don’t remember what the offense was. But I remember going across her lap wearing only my boxers. My girlfriend Reneta was not a spanking fetishist, and so this was all new to her. But as soon as I was in position I felt her fingers inside the waistband of my underwear as she slid them down just below my bottom.
There was something wonderful about that moment. It was the surprise. It was her complete lack of hesitation. It was the fact that I never asked her pull them down, nor did we negotiate for a bare-bottom spanking. She just did it because that was how she had decided to punish me. I felt owned by her. I felt an incredible sense of intimacy and tenderness between us. In that moment I was reduced to a bad boy who was being disciplined, and humbled by someone who loved me.
Then she spanked me…for real.
It wasn’t particularly hard but Reneta’s spankings were never very pleasant or sexual. She didn’t understand how to make a spanking feel good. She didn’t know to lecture me, or say the right phrases. She did it reluctantly, dutifully. But looking back on it years later, remembering that only makes the memory hotter. Her hand stung in the worst way, and as much as I wanted to tell her to stop and teach her how to do it right, I couldn’t. I had asked her for this, and didn’t want to discourage her. I also was too proud to admit that I wasn’t able to take a simple hand spanking as a grown man. So I lay there, and I took my punishment.
The spanking ended after a few minutes. She pulled my underwear back up, and I knelt beside her. She looked at me directly, and spoke softly in a way that combined the gentleness of a lover, with the authority of a strict disciplinarian.
“Are you gonna do it again?”
I shook my head to say “no.”
My first real spanking as an adult was complete. I think about it almost every day.