What Was I Thinking?

I'm going to take a bit of time and examine the thought process that comes along with a disciplinary spanking. The second I know I'm about to receive a spanking I've earned, my mind immediately starts heading in fifteen million directions. It explodes into a flurry of thought, including "What was I THINKING?", "How long is this going to be?", "How hard?", "Am I going to be able to handle this?", and "How I can make this easier?". . . . the next moment, my wrist is usually grabbed, and I'm taken to where ever the spanking is going to happen.

At this point, my focus is on calming my breathing down and the whirlwind process of thoughts. I had already done whatever had earned me the spanking, and no matter what, I wasn't going to get out of it. I just needed to calm down, and take what I had coming. The entire time I'm standing in front of him, I'm attempting to find a reason I could have POSSIBLY done whatever I had thought was a good idea, and attempting to take to heart whatever he's saying. It's not that I'm purposefully ignoring him. . . . simply that I'm a little distracted.

The longer I stand there, the more the tension builds. I will often shift from foot to foot, trying to relieve the internal tension. Around the time the tension is highest, I'll feel his hands on my belt, and my blood runs ice cold. I know better than to try to talk my way out of it, but I plead non-verbally in every way that I know how to. My mind has slowed to an almost sluggish proportion, and it's trying to track and process every minute movement. As my pants come down, and oftentimes my panties, I'll suddenly be yanked over his knee.

As I lose my balance, my first thought is often some form of "Whoa!" I KNOW I'm going to go over his knee, but I don't often expect the sudden, abrupt change of position. As I settle into position, I take in each of the smaller details. Where I'm positioned. What I can see, grab ahold of. Where my hands are. Where his hands are. Whether or not I'm in control of balance, or he is. I will minutely shift to ensure the best balance for me.

The biggest, overwhelming thought is often, "What the HECK was I thinking? This was SO TOTALLY NOT WORTH THIS." This is the point at which SERIOUS regret bubbles up. I will often regret something far before I'm pulled over his knee for it, but this is that absolute "bottom of the world falling out" feeling. I tense up, waiting. . . . .listening. . . . . feeling. . . . . and then, he'll lay his hand on my bottom. My entire world narrows to one focal point, and then, the tension is sharply broken with the first swat.

I often yelp with surprise with the first swat, both because. . . . . it's the first, and the exact moment is unexpected, and second, because I ALWAYS forget how much it hurts! No matter how many times I get spanked. . . . that first swat always catches me off guard. He usually starts his spankings with slow, hard swats, and that first set doesn't usually stop until I'm squirming, or yelping, or both. My mind frame splits into two parts, here, depending on whether or not I agree, or am in a good mindframe. Either I will give into the emotion, and being controlled, and will not repress my reaction, or I will fight to maintain silence. I never win that fight, but it's there nonetheless.

Let's go with the first, for now. As the sting builds, my thoughts go along the vein. . . . "This has barely started, and it hurts this badly with just his HAND!" There's also a fleeting hope that he won't pick up an implement. . . . . a hope that I'll be allowed to hang onto my last vestiges of control. . . . . fighting the need to throw my hands behind me, to hinder him in any way. . . . . . When the first break comes, I will slowly and steadily attempt to slow my breathing down. The yelps slow, my breathing slows, and then, all silence is shattered yet again. My mind rolls over the fresh wave of pain, trying to process it as it builds.

By this point, I'm not usually able to stop myself from trying to hinder him. I'm not fighting out of defiance. . . . simply fighting the pain. I am learning, though, that things often get worse instead of better when I do so, and so, that is a thought that is very, very present. When implements show up, my thoughts go from identifying the implement, to whether it hurt worse, or more, than the last, and when is this going to stop?!

As my heaving, keening cries begin, I often try to choke them back, as a flash of defiance rolls over me. I have lost all control except for my physical reactions. For the moment, I've still got a handle on them. Within the next 3 or 4 swats, though, I often give up and break down. I never make it through without having my hands pinned, and my blood runs cold with horror when both are pinned behind me. Without fail, I cry harder. I hate being pinned. . . .hate knowing I'm weaker. . . . hate knowing that no matter what, I'm stuck.

At the same time, it eliminates the fight to keep my hands out of the way. It also triggers, at times, a fight that is exceptionally strong. It's in internal fight expressed through external means. My undying need for control is often expressed directly through fighting HIM, even though I'm not really fighting him. . . . I'm fighting the wave of fear that rolls over me when I lose control. Eventually, the moment comes where I just. . . . . give up. Give into the emotion. . . . . give into the moment. . . . . and stop worrying about when it's going to end, what's going to happen next, and just allow him to do as he sees best. He's not going to hurt me, either physically or emotionally, and it is ok to give up. It's safe to do so. . . .

As the spanking ends, I find myself rolled off of his lap, and into his arms. I am consumed with the pain in my legs and bottom, and with the safety and security I find being wrapped in his arms. I lay there, trying to remember how to breathe, as the overwhelming thought occurs, yet again. . . . . . "What was I thinking?"