I swore I’d never write about writing- it’s against my rules- but there’s a point to this. Bear with me. (Or leave quietly and check back in a couple days when I’ll hopefully post something more to your liking.)

A friend recently described my writing as “short.” There were other kind words as well, but this one in particular I took as a compliment. I strive for brevity. In general, the time and effort put into posts tends to be inversely proportional to the word count. My scrap folder is filled with stories that ramble on for thousands of words with plenty of hints of spanking but never actually getting down to it.

I like to describe the scene- to firmly establish the angelic innocence (or demonic guilt if I’m feeling particularly evil) of the girl to be punished, and explore the relationship between her and the man to take her to task.

But even if I do manage to get to the goddam spanking in a reasonable number of words, I stall. Sometimes for a few hours, most likely for a few days or weeks. Almost always until I’ve had sufficient alcohol to work up the nerve to get down to it. And then I rush through it and hope it’s ok and turn away from it before I change my mind.

And then afterward, once I’ve been able to calm down a bit, I’m kind of happy about it. Yes, going through it sucked, but it had to happen- I’m glad it happened. I can learn from it and move on. All is right with the world.

I wonder if actual spanking will be the same way?

I know the spanking has to happen- that’s why we’re here isn’t it? But I’d like to put it off as long as possible. Maybe he’ll forget, and we can go get ice cream or something instead. . . .

But neither of us would be happy with that would we?

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