Six years ago, if you’d ask me what the most important of my fetish was, Id probably say “spanking. Duh.” Nowadays I’m thinking about autonomy.
When I did that thing that so many of us do where I looked up words in the dictionary, I would look up “punishment”. I associated punishment with spanking, obviously, but I’ve come to understand that punishment is as much of a fetish for me as spanking is. There’s a great deal of crossover between the two. I think the distinction is important because there’s spankos that don’t enjoy the punishment element of it, but also aren’t interested in the disciplinary aspect of spanking.
I enjoy both the emotions I get from being spanked just because as well as scolded/corrected. There’s a different energy behind each – I think spanking just for the sake of it is definitely more social – so something you’d do at a party, for instance. I think this also leaves room for more explicitly erotic situations.
Both satisfy different elements of my fetish, but punishment spankings are special because they’re more all encompassing. There’s an inevitable push/pull that comes with punishment, because I never want to really be in trouble, to actually disappoint someone – and it feels terrible in the moment, but accountability tastes so good when you don’t have a choice.
Thankfully, I’ve never been one of those people that are “too good” to get punished* but still have a fetish. But I understand the craving the headspace of a punishment when you haven’t done anything warranting one. That’s where discipline comes in.
I realize there’s some indulgence in separating discipline and punishment, but I also see punishment as something you receive, whereas discipline is something you have. This is where gentle reminders come in. “Make sure you’re behaved with your friends today. Or else.” Or the “just because” spankings that feel intense. And maintenance spankings, my personal favorite.
There’s also what people call a ‘reset’ which is basically a maintenance spanking, but more intense. Resets are more of a response to consistent subpar behavior. (i.e., frequently breaking rules, falling off track with goals, general carelessness). I’d say they’re pretty effective – any reset I ever had made me want to be much better behaved. Like, ‘just start a new identity altogether, perhaps get a new fetish’, behaved.
Intensity plays a big part in it, and I think this stems from the belief that things must get worse before they can get better. In any other context, a lot of people might disagree – but if I told you that you could press a button and give yourself a recharge, wouldn’t you do it?
Over the holidays my daddy introduced a concept where every morning, while we were together, I got paddled. Nothing too crazy. Five swats with a thin, wooden paddle. But I struggled. There wasn’t any warm up, and he wasn’t gentle. I cried at least twice. But I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it didn’t feel that way in the moment. I find great comfort in the concept that I am exact where I should be, as I should be. And if I am not, then someone with the authority to do so ( my daddy, in this case) will rectify the situation by maintaining my behavior.
Even when I didn’t want the spankings, I took them because I needed to curl up in him and feel taken care of, and small, and peaceful.
The above picture is from a few weeks ago. One of my very good friends, G, was kind enough to give me a bedtime spanking. I asked for a nice one – I occasionally find joy in asking for a spanking. A lot of times it isn’t of my own fruition but even even you decide on your own there’s something humbling. Please hurt me. Please give me this thing I need that I have trouble expressing verbally. Take care of me.
I felt very casual, as my friend was a few feet away from me, being spanked much harder. She’d been naughty throughout the day; more in overall behavior rather than attitude. It was consistent enough to make me nervous for her, but I suspected she was on track to getting what she desired and deserved – so who was I to judge?
I was squirming at the hand, but then she picked up the hairbrush. Domestic implements feel so matter of fact – the accessibility, the idea that anyone can have one – it’s a reminder that no matter what, you will be spanked if needed. It’s a remarkable juxtaposition between familiar and terrifying.
As I write this, I still have some faint bruises from this weekend. I was visiting daddy, and he paddled me each morning. Even the day I got in trouble, he suggested skipping the maintenance and I didn’t want to. Despite his jokes to the contrary, the world would function all the same if he didn’t paddle me in the morning. But I needed it. Even if he didn’t make it easier for me, I needed the feeling of being put in my place. And I don’t mean that as being less than, I mean I needed this to help me be the best version of myself – resilient, grounded, confident, blissful – everything I feel when I allow myself to submit.
*yes, these people do exist. I’m just as appalled as you are.