Tween spanking fantasies

When I was just starting puberty I already had a spanking fetish. Even though I didn’t really know what a “fetish” was and also having never gotten a spanking, not even once. I fantasized about what it would be like to get spanked all the time.

I would use the family computer to browse spanking stories and pornographic photos all the time, but I was careful to clear the browsing history.

It became a feedback loop of guilt and fantasy. I felt naughty looking at all that spanking porn, and felt like I deserved to be punished all the more.

I fantasized that one time I’d forget to clear the browser history and my mom would discover my embarrassing secret. I’d drew that she would confront me about it and announce that if I was so fascinated by spankings, she’d give me a one-time-only opportunity to get a spanking.

The idea I liked best was that she wasn’t angry or upset, but rather concerned that I felt like I has missed out on something I needed to experience. I dreamed she’d tell me that it would be my choice, but if I did decide to go through with it, it would be a real and proper punishment, and I couldn’t change my mind once we started — she’d spank me thoroughly to her decision that I was properly punished.

She’d make a deal with me — she places a chair in the middle of the room and says she’ll give me 15 minutes alone to think it over. If I place the chair back at the table, then no worries — we’ll forget all about this and never mention it again. Or I the chair is still there when she returns, she will give me a good old-fashioned spanking.

Of course in my fantasy I leave the chair there signaling that yes I really do need a spanking, even though I’m so nervous and scared.

Finally, she returns, seeming proud that I had the courage to continue. She sits, motions me to her, and begins to pull my pants down. I imagine the utter humiliation next as she then takes the waistband of my white brief underwear and pulls them down all the way to my knees. Next she takes me across her lap.

I lay there feeling so exposed with my bare bottom in the air, and that’s when she tells me I’m a good boy, but sometimes I can be naughty and that this spanking is for every time I was naughty for the last many years and got away with it. Then it begins, she uses her hand to spank me hard, alternating cheeks over and over. It hurts much much more than I ever imagined it would. I quickly snap out of the fantasy and realize I’m really getting spanked, really getting the punishment I deserved. I’m crying and bawling, my rear end is on fire, stinging and burning, and mom keeps raining down spank after spank. I’m really and truly sorry for my behavior and desperately want it to end. But it’s not on my terms, Mom reminds me, as she lays on another round of the hardest and fastest spanks as the finale.

I lay there convulsing and heaving until subsiding to just ordinary crying. Even though it’s over, I feel only white-hot searing pain and throbbing of my bottom. It feels like it’ll never stop stinging.

When I’ve gained some composure, Mom nudges me to get up. I do and after calming a bit, realize I’m embarrassingly exposed and pull my underwear and pants back up.

Finally, Mom sits me down to recap that’s what a real spanking feels like. She promises she’ll never actually spank me for punishment but leaves an offer that if I ever feel like it, she has a “no questions asked” policy where I can always set the chair out myself and if she sees it, that will signal her to give me another spanking just like today.

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