I found this draft of a post and thought it would be fun to share. I wrote it three years ago.

“The last few nights, I’ve laid awake for hours before sleep finally showed up. It’s my own fault, I was taking NyQuil for this killer summer cold I’ve had (not covid) and after a few nights of that, I realized I needed to stop. But my body would prefer to be knocked out with a dose of the green meds.

So I’m lying there last night, having tried the meditation app, having tried all the relaxation stuff, having finished my fantasy about what I’ll do if I win the lottery, and still wide awake.

I wanted a spanking fantasy that would put me to sleep instead of getting me all turned on.

I sighed…

What if…

I am lying on my bed, near the edge, on my belly, pillows up under me so my ass is raised high. I am wearing a blindfold, a sleep mask, really, silky, padded, but firmly wrapped around my head. The chair is already arranged next to the bed.

I hear the door open. Footsteps cross the room, stopping by the bed.

I wait. I hear the person – I do not know their gender, or if it is the same person as last night or the night before – but I hear them settle in the chair.

A hand touches my back and something is laid on my back, right where it curves to meet my ass. I’m not sure what it is. The paint stick maybe.

A second object is placed beside it, the one heavier, the small leather strap I think. I smile to myself, I like the strap. The third item – there are always three – is lighter. I’m not sure what it is. The flip-flop maybe. I have seen all the objects before, but I never know which ones they’ll chose on a given night.

Something touches my lip and I immediately open my mouth. A thumb, it is a thumb, slid into my mouth so delicately, I begin sucking immediately, humming with pleasure.

The thumb is withdrawn, a hand strokes my ass, the third object is lifted and I feel it touching my skin, caressing each cheek and tracing the gap between the cheeks. I moan softly, anticipating.

“Tell me, girl, is the yard work perfectly done tonight?” The voice always seems disembodied and I can never tell if I recognize it or not, maybe because I am overwhelmed by the sensations in my body. The cool air on my skin, the heat between my legs…

“No, Sir,” I say, “Not perfectly done.”

“As I thought,” the voice says. “Ten for yard work.”

It is definitely the flip flop, I can tell by the slapping sound, the particular sting when it lands. They do not do it hard, they don’t need to. The point is not to hurt to me. Or not exactly.

They use the shoe so it lands across both cheeks at the same time. The first five layer over each other up my cheeks, the next five move back down. I realize I am raising my ass a bit, longing for more. It is sensation, I think, not pain.

When they stop, I say quickly, “Thank you, Sir. ” A hand rubs my ass soothingly.

The next question. “Is the housework done perfectly?”

“No, Sir. Not perfectly done.”

“Ten more,” they say.

This time it is the leather strap. I love the sound as it lands, so much firmer than the shoe, the feel of it on my skin…

“Thank you, Sir.”

This question, response and ten more, the rhythm of the pattern never changes. Was my appearance perfect? My attitude? Had I served perfectly?

No and no and no, til my ass was burning and yet, it didn’t feel bad, I didn’t want them to stop.

And then

“Turn over,” they said.

I raised up and they pulled the pillows away. I lay on my back, still blindfolded, my ass stinging delightfully so that it felt like my skin was alive.

I raised up so they could slide a pillow under me, I knew the drill so well. Bent my knees and opened my legs so my feet were pressed against each other. Wide open, fully aware of what would come next.

“Are you perfect, girl?” they asked.

“No, Sir. I’m not perfect.”

It was the leather strap and it hurt, landing, not full force, but firmly, on my inner thigh. Moving up my left thigh steadily, five licks, each a bit harder, overlapping the one before.

I was whimpering, squirming, but with my feet pressed against each other, that only opened me, offered me more completely…”

And that’s where it stopped. Ahhhh. I longed for more.