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When I wrote "What I Want, What I Need" I knew that someday, some scene, would satisfy the desires I wrote of in there. I was not disappointed, if anything, my tears only brought closure to the confusion those desires left. This, is what spanking in discipline is all about for me. (*names changed to respect privacy)

Be Careful What You Wish For

"She looks like she came right out of the movie Dracula" I giggled, watching the ice dancing competition on TV. The skater in question had brilliant red hair and dramatic makeup, making her look like something out of an Anne Rice novel.

I was snuggled on the couch with William*, wincing every time my sore bottom bumped anything remotely solid. It was Sunday, it had only been two days since he had last blistered my bottom for the long list of misbehaviors I had earned, and had spent the last two nights sleeping on my tummy after a very thorough spanking. He had reddened my bottom with all of the new toys I had frivolously purchased on ebay recently, making me rate each one for their severeness after a dozen strokes or so with each. The worst one of the bunch being a lexan paddle with holes, full of pure pain and pure sting. It was a fun spanking night overall, but left me sore and tender.

Growing bored with the Ice Dancing, I started aggravating him by poking and pinching, giggling like a naughty little girl every time he gave me a warning look to stop. I couldn't help it, I was bored and it was so much fun pushing that little button. Twice he slapped my hand hard, warning me to behave. I rubbed my hand with a sulk, settling down for a bit, eventually sneaking first a gentle pinch, then an all out skin-between-the-fingers pinch.

Part of me felt guilty for annoying him like that and pushing buttons I had been warned not to push, but the brat in me just couldn't keep myself from doing something I had been told not to do. Which is usually the number one reason my butt is reddened. One would think a brat would learn.

While buttons are made to be pressed, sooner or later you press them too much and get reactions. That pinch had crossed the line, and he had had enough, abruptly getting up from the couch and grabbing my arm, trying to turn me over to get to my wiggling behind. I squealed and giggled, nearly falling off the couch in my attempts to protect my posterior, but he managed to land a few hard solid smacks.

"I am not your personal toy to poke and pinch and annoy as you please! You either start behaving or you will spend the rest of the evening in the corner young lady!" William pointed a menacing finger in my face, his voice deadly serious, replacing my triumphant grin with a sulk of chastisement. I mumbled out a reply, my face flushing slightly his harsh words, my bottom still smarting from the smacks.

He gave me another stern glare, and I snuggled back under my blanket to escape the look, nested on the couch and staring at the TV with a pout. Behaving was no fun!

* * *

"Get the bag and pick two implements." A commercial interrupted our program, and William tapped me on the head lightly, indicating to our toybag.

"Aww but my butt hurts." I complained with a scowl, turning the pout on full force. He ignored me, flipping channels on the TV as I grumpily got off the couch, finding the bag and digging through it. Even my usual favorites did not seem appealing when partnered with my sore bottom. I choose a wooden spatula and a thin wooden hairbrush paddle, throwing them on top of the bag and excusing myself to go to the bathroom. "Stalling was a good tactic." I thought to myself as I fussed with my hair in the mirror, wandering around the tiny bathroom for a moment until I figured the commercial was over, flushing the toilet for good measure.

I dragged the bag back over to the couch with me, digging through it again, wondering how long my stalling tactics would work before he simply grabbed something and pulled me over his lap.

"Well, hurry up and pick something." he grinned. I mumbled my "but my butt hurts!" protest again, to no avail.

"Great...now I just need a butt." He smiled.

"I don't have a butt." I giggled, crawling in front of him and sticking my tongue out brattily.

"Get those pants off and over my lap." he growled. I slowly obeyed, peppering my slow movements with protests and whines the whole time.

William readjusted himself on the couch, laying a pillow across his lap and patting it expectantly as I handed him the hairbrush paddle. "Here," I grumbled sullenly. I really wanted a spanking, but was dreading it on my already tender butt. I am insatiable when it comes to spanking play though.

Finally I was over his lap, squirming and clenching my cheeks together before he even touched me. The hairbrush paddle was in his hand, ready and waiting, and soon connecting to my pro-offered bottom. I had left my panties on hoping for the extra protection, and much to my surprise, he didn't order me to remove them too, instead opting to pull the material between my asscheeks. "So much for THAT plan." I thought to myself with a sigh.

It didn't take him long to have me squealing and begging him to stop as first his hand, and then the hairbrush paddle, connected with my backside. Smacks and squeals and legkicks that would have made a Broadway dancer proud took place of the entertainment that commercials failed to provide. Finally Star Trek came on again, giving me a break. I settled back on the couch with a sniffle, rubbing my freshly tenderized bottom as I watched Picard be assimilated by the borg and refrained from poking William in sulky revenge.

Funny how soon commercials come when you are dreading them. "Pick another implement." he demanded.

"I want your HAND!" I whined. Not that his hand was any less severe than anything my toy bag held, but it had to be better than wood.

"My hand isn't in the bag, now PICK before I pick something for you."

I bit my tongue on some smart-ass reply, rummaging through the bag slowly, feeling out each implement and rejecting it.

"Give me whatever your hand is on now." he said in exasperation, tired of my stalling tactics. I pulled out the heavy leather paddle with a sigh of relief, glad I had quickly shoved the lexan to the bottom of the bag. Leather was good. Sorta.

Over his lap I went, again squealing and whimpering about how much it hurt, wincing louder and sitting slowly after each commercial. Three implements later, the show ended and I sighed as I rubbed my bottom furiously. Surely my butt was safe now.

William tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to look at him quizzically. He looked at me seriously, the distracted, playful aura of his earlier mood vanished. The change in his demeanor was obvious and I felt a little flutter in my tummy. Maybe my butt wasn't as safe as I had thought.

"Find me the razor strop."

"No way, what for??" I demanded incredulously. He wasn't going to strop me after all he the damage he had done on my bottom previously, was he? So many times I had shared my feelings about wanting a true discipline scene that left me in tears, but my throbbing bottom told me I ought to be more careful what I wished for, it just might come true when I least expected it.

"Some little girl is going to learn a lesson on how to behave online and why not to warn others on AOL after I've told her not to." he informed me sternly.

I flushed, biting my lip and staring at the floor. I should have known he wouldn't let me get away with it. Joyce* and I had been playing warning games on AOL instant messenger for weeks, ignoring numerous warnings from William to knock it off. Even a humiliating online spanking and being sent to bed early with toothpaste burning in my bottom hole hadn't squashed the urge to get Joyce back every time she raised my warning level. Besides, it wasn't fair that she got to mock me and warn me and she got away with it, while *I* was expected to behave!

"She started it!" I mumbled as I handed him the dreaded razor strop, knowing the excuse wouldn't do a bit of good.

He pointed to the arm of the couch, indicating for me to get in position. "I want your head down in the cushions and that butt high in the air for me." he informed me. I sniffled softly, positioning myself as he asked, quivering slightly and wishing I hadn't pushed him quite so far.

William tapped me on the shoulder and I unburied my head from my arms, looking at him with big pouty eyes. His own stern brown eyes bore into mine, his voice taking on that stern, no-nonsense tone that always left me flushed and feeling like a naughty little girl.

"How many times did you warn Joyce little girl?"

I chewed my lip and gulped. "Twenty..."

He nodded and indicated to the strop. "And how many licks of this do you think that is going to earn you?!"

I closed my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath and murmuring "Twenty."

"That's right." he agreed, standing up and positioning himself behind me, adjusting the strop in his grip. "We'll see how much fun you have at your warning games after we are through here."

I closed my eyes, waiting for the leather to tan my hide, waiting for the discipline I had craved for so long to become the discipline I sorely needed.

The first stroke landed squarely across my butt full force, causing me to jump up half way and cry out. I resisted the urge to put my hand back, having learnt my lesson about that on Friday. I choked back a curse and folded my hands into fists, my bottom perched high for stroke number two. The second stroke was no less severe, and I cried out again, wondering in a panic how I would handle 18 more. The strap bit into my sore flesh harshly, leaving even redder squares upon red flesh. Stroke number three earned a choked sob, and by the forth I was crying freely, tears spilling down my cheeks and my whimpers turning to gasps and wails.

I had never cried from a spanking, ever. I had survived long sessions with the bathbrush, squealing moments with the belt that left me dancing, and hard paddlings that left my bottom puffy and tender for days, but never once had a tear been shed. William's spankings and lectures would often leave me sniffling and red-faced, but I had never actually cried, no matter how sore or chastened he left me. I felt so little, so naughty, and so very very sorry for myself.

My tears didn't stop him, only encouraging him to continue teaching me the lesson he had set out to teach. I heard his voice sharply lecturing me with each stroke, and although I couldn't understand the words, I had no doubt what he was saying. I forced myself to stay in position, not willing to show him my tear-streaked face only to be ordered to get back into position as I knew he would do. I lost count of the strokes, steeling myself for each and hoping, pleading silently that it was the last one. Finally he set the strap aside, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me towards him, finishing off the punishment with a half a dozen hard smacks with his hand. I lay draped over the arm of the couch, rubbing my eyes and crying softly into the couch cushions, sniffling as he motioned for me to lay down on the couch.

I spread out gingerly, burying my wet face back into the covers, tears still pouring down my cheeks. I felt William's hand gently rubbing my blazing bottom, adding a sweet-smelling lotion to my buttocks and rubbing it in soothingly. I winced, keeping my face buried in the fleece blanket. He let me have my moment to collect myself before he softly patted my hair, smiling as I peeked out at him.

"Are those real tears I see there?" He kidded me softly. I had often talked about my desire to be spanked to tears, so he knew the effect the scene had on me. I sniffled and nodded, rewarding him with a small smile before burying my face back into the covers. I finally got up with a hiss as my bottom dragged across the fabric, grabbing my own quilt and snuggling into his arms for a hug, burying my face into his chest as I got my breathing and emotions under control. He stroked my hair softly, murmuring reassurances as I calmed down, lured into a dreamy state of security by the soothing sound of his voice. I stayed snuggled against him for a long while, unwilling to let go of the safeness and security I felt in those arms that had moments ago had me bawling in pain.

There are times when I wonder WHY I liked being spanked so much, wonder why the need is so pressing, knowing I didn't just want this, but actually needed it. Wonder if it is worth the confusion that often goes with the desires, and thinking I should just give it up. Then I'll be draped over a lap with a hand raining down on my sorry bottom or cuddled, crying and sniffling safely in the arms of my disciplinarian, and I know it is simply who I am, what I want, and what I need. I feel safe, assured that no matter how much it hurt, I am safe with him. That he is hurting me because he wants to, because I deserve it and because I need it.

I think it will be awhile before I push his buttons again. Maybe. >:)