Mitch and I had been dating several months when we started getting tension between us. We had both been working a lot, and I was starting to get edgy and rude with him. Mitch was, by nature, a beta male, whereas I had gotten quite used to being in charge over the years. So whenever I would snap at him, he just took it in stride and always forgave me instantly.
One particular night though, I ended up blowing up on him for an insignificant matter. I ended up saying quite a bit of things, including something about him not being man enough for me. But as soon as I said that, something instantly changed in him. He stood up to me and got quite irate. He told me he wanted order in our relationship and that we’d deal with it the next day.
I texted him in the morning asking him what he meant by “deal with it.” He avoided answering the question. He came over after and sat down with me to talk. We had discussed bringing domestic discipline into our relationship before, so I had a feeling he was going to spank me.
Mitch bluntly said “Courtney, I can’t keep going on the way we’ve been going. Something has to be done about your attitude. I’ve decided that if we want this to work, we have to start using dd. You have 2 choices. You can accept discipline, or we will have to stop seeing each other.”
My heart pounded at his words. Even though dd was my idea, now that it was staring me in the face, I was terrified. I knew exactly what was coming.
“You’re saying you want to spank me?” I questioned.
“Yes. That’s the only way this is going to work. Otherwise we’ll have to stop seeing each other. You clearly need discipline.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just nodded in agreement. My parents had always been easy on me growing up and I lacked proper discipline. I knew I needed discipline, otherwise I just got out of control.
“Okay, I’m going to spank you then. I want you to bend over.” Mitch motioned me towards his lap. I hesitated and then bent over, suddenly embarrassed.
Mitch adjusted me on his lap and began to scold me for the way I treated him the night before. “You know this is for your own good, right?” I nodded in reply.
Mitch hooked his thumbs in my waistband and pulled my pants all the way down to my ankles, and started spanking me. He paused for a moment before asking me if I knew why I was about to get spanked. I nodded again, looking down at the floor.
Mitch gave a few hard slaps to my bum and continued lecturing me as he spanked me. I tried to get out of it but he just held me down and continued spanking me. Harder and harder. I whined in protest and squirmed in embarrassment.
He held onto my waist as he spread my legs apart. He gave a few hard slaps to my inner thighs. I squealed and brought my legs together. Grunting, Mitch pulled my legs apart again and slapped my thighs even harder, saying “keep your legs apart.”
Whimpering, I squeezed my eyes shut and did my best to obey him. As the spanking went on, my embarrassment and shame escalated. Here I was, 21 years old and bent over my boyfriend’s knees with my pants dangling around my ankles. I started to plead with him to stop.
Finally he stopped after my bum was on fire, and I lay limply in his lap, sniffling and shaking. He gently pulled me into his arms and held me tightly, telling me how much he loved me.
As embarrassed as I was, I felt a sense of relief and security. Somehow I felt closer to him than ever, and something about submitting to the spanking made me feel like a load had been lifted off my shoulders. We spent the rest of the evening cuddling and talking. We both knew that this was something that was going to continue.