Wish Mom had Spanked me
I was fascinated by spanking from the youngest age I can remember. It was long before I understood what sex or a fetish was.
I never got spanked growing up. I didn’t know that to be the case at the time. My mom would threaten to in rare occasions, so I believed it was a real possibility. I was very afraid of it as a real punishment. Yet also was curious about it to the extreme.
I guess I thought as a kid one day, sooner or later, I’d get in trouble enough push things too far, and get a spanking. But I never did.
Despite my very real fear of it, I would daydream all the time about what it would be like. These feelings intensified around age 11-13. It’s also at the time when the idea of just how utterly embarrassing it would be intensified.
My conflicted desires made me think I was crazy. One minute I would be thinking about hatching some “plan” to get my mom to spank me, then the next minute snap out of it and realize how humiliated I was at the thought.
I especially fixated on the baring. As much I was was sure it would hurt a lot too, what mostly ran through my head was the image of having to just be helpless while Mom pulled my pants and underwear down. Secondary were thoughts of how embarrassing it would also be to cry from the spanking and having to spend the rest of the day with a red bottom.
In a few of the most-tense times, I got sorta-kinda close to going through with one of my little “plans.” They were childish and simple, of course. They ranged from using reverse psychology, to intentionally misbehaving, to outright asking her.
I never worked up the nerve to go through with it, and deeply regret it. I can’t really imagine how she would have reacted.
But, I really really wish somehow that, at least once, Mom had given me a good, long, hard, bare-bottom spanking so I’d know what the experience was really like.
I feel like to amount of role play as an adult really lives up to real experience.