I remember being terrified of getting into any sort of trouble. At school, there were the good girls and the bad girls. The good girls with all the extra freedom and responsibilities and the bad girls who were kept under a close watch. The good girls who spent their afternoons at practice for this thing or the other and the bad girls who that spent their afternoons in detention. The good girls who were quiet and reserved and the bad girls who had all the fun.
I was one of the (annoyingly) good girls, and desperately wanted to keep it that way. If I were to put one toe out of line, I feared that I would be shunned into that other group. Nothing could possibly be any worse.
In ways, this was beneficial. My grades were excellent, I kept out of any sort of legal trouble, and was an asset to any school team that didn’t involve physical coordination. However, in some ways, this also made me a rather boring kid (as my mother and I agreed later in a frank discussion after a few drinks).
One of the things I like about spanking is the license to be a little bit bad. One can have a bit of fun, maybe screw up a little, and it will be ok. Painful, but ok. Sure, I will still try to be good, but without the paralyzing fear that would otherwise keep me from being spontaneous.
In the spanking community, one isn’t seen as defective because one earns a spanking, nor is there any special status for infrequent spankees. We’re all just people doing our best, taking risks, and paying the price. If Karen gets spanked about once a month while Katie earns herself a spanking nearly every day, I wouldn’t think one is a better person (or a better submissive) than the other.
If everyone is happy and getting the amount of spanking they need, then that’s all that matters.