all materials are copyright serijules unless otherwise noted.

please do not copy or reprint without consent of the owner.

I wrote this as a reply to a post on alt.spanking.reality about what is an ideal scene for us. It turned into something of a mini story that I wanted to keep, so I edited it a bit more, elaborated a pinch, and posted it here. Perhaps the right person will read it someday.

What I Want, What I Need

Everyone has things they want, and everyone has things they need. Sometimes, you want things you don't need. With me, there is something I need, but do not want. Discipline.

The scene I need, and yes, even crave, has a few very important aspects of it. First being, it is a true discipline scene. This won't be a scene that I particulary enjoy...and this is important to me because I NEED that. I do love play, but the core of my desires is discipline...always has been. Secondly, it would be a real scene...no roleplay. I need to be disciplined for something that I really did, to help me truly change my ways. Recently I fibbed to a Top friend about having all my laundry done when he asked...that is the sort of misbehavior that warrents a discipline scene. Part of me doesn't wonder if I didn't purposly not do as I was told to try and weed that reaction of of him. I DO love pushing buttons.

I want to be sent to the corner...made to stand there knowing he is behind me, knowing he is preparing for my punishment. Letting me squirm a little, suddenly wishing that I had done as I was told, that I hadn't fibbed to him, hadn't used the f-word when I was warned not to, hadn't been sassy to him all week. Knowing he is smiling with a little amusement as he watches me squirm and try oh so hard NOT to squirm, in that corner...waiting. Then when he feels I have thought about it enough, he will come and tap me on the shoulder....and I'll turn to look at him with a pout already planted on my lips, trying to sulk my way out of the punishment. Afterall, it's worked in the past.

This time however, it won't. He'll simply take my chin in his hands and make me look into his eyes and tell me that no amount of pouting will change the fact that I disobeyed him and I will be punished for it. He will lead me to the bed and sit down, pulling me next to him and lecturing in that firm, soft voice, asking me why I need to be punished. When I shrug and look away with a grin, he will pull my face back into his gaze and once again demand, not ask, to know why I deserve to be punished. His gaze...his stance...will leave no doubt that he means business, and for once, my shrug and grin routine won't work. He asked a question, and expects an answer.

This time, I'll give it. Maybe.

He will finish his lecture, leaving my cheeks flushed with embarresment. My famous grin will no longer be tickling the corners of my mouth. He will pull down my pants and panties and guide me over his lap, his hands raining down on my bare bottom with no warmup, no slow start, just hard, business-like spanks focused on the very spots that will make it oh-so-hard to sit the next few days. I will plead and wince and squirm, but he won't stop, even when I beg and promise to be a good girl, even when I start squirming so much that he knows I am really hurting now. He will just keep on spanking. Perhaps picking up the hated bathbrush for awhile until I am sure that I can't take another stroke.

After my bottom is hot and tender, he will tell me to get up, and I will not sigh with relief because I know this isn't over yet, I know he has only started. He will ask me, again, why I am being punished. Knowing me, and my sassy little 'tude...I will make some smart-ass comment, my eyes narrowed and the pout playing my lips again, rubbing my already sore bottom. He will look at me, now...with that stern look that can send me fidgetting faster than the worst of implements. I will bite my lip and look at my feet, knowing I shouldn't have said what I did.

His hands will re-focus my attentions by going to his belt....slowly unbuckling the leather and pulling it out of his pants, doubleing it up and snapping the middle sharply. I'll look up at him with a whimper, hands still protecting my throbbing bottom. He will simply motion to the bed and tell me, softly, with no nonscence...

"Get in the position, Seri."

And I will. Kneeling on the bed with my ass high in the air, trembling and waiting, feeling him get in position behind me and slowly rub his hands over my reddened globes. I love the feeling of his warm hands on my flesh, I feel safe, assured that no matter how much this hurts, I am safe with him. That he is hurting me because he wants to, because I deserve it and because I need it. Even if I don't want it.

Suddenly the belt will come crashing down on my behind, causing me to yelp and bite my lip, hard. He knows I love leather, I love the belt, but my ass is sore and he is holding nothing back...no carressing licks of the leather, but hard, swift strokes that sting and burn well into the next stroke. Leaving a reminder on my backside that fibbing is not a good idea, and that even something I love can be used as a punishment.

Who knows where my attitude will be after this, how much more he will have to do. Probably the bathbrush again, maybe the lexan paddle. Or simply his hand, over and over and over. I might cry...I've never cried from a spanking yet. When it is all over, he will pull me into his arms and cuddle me for a long time, not saying anything, just holding me, tight, stroking my hair and letting me bury my face into his chest and cry. Making me look at him again and promise to be a good girl, and when I say that I will, I will mean it. I will have no desire to repeat that session again. He will hold me and tell me it is ok, that everything is alright, and that I did well.

No one has yet to seriously mean business when punishing me, and it is what I crave, what I need, and someday, will meet someone that can give it to me. I will hate every second of it, but I will cherish it.

Because I need it.