Sunday, December 30, 2007

I Like to Be Told

Amelia Jane Rutherford, asking if it's going to hurt as much as last time.

We bought our first tawse for Christmas, a beautiful Lochgelly-style piece from MC Customs, but we've only had opportunity to play with it once. Since then, it's made a daily appearance in my repertoire of daydreams. At first, I simply replayed our experience with it, but as will happen, unexpected alterations began to occur. I found myself in different positions, or the speed at which the tawse landed on my bare flesh increased. Then, one afternoon as I gazed longingly at the heavy 2-tailed leather strap already hanging on a hook by my side of the bed, I closed my eyes and found myself in a wide stance, already naked and bent over with my forearms supporting me, my husband standing behind me with one hand holding the tawse and the other pressed against the small of my back.

I like when he talks to me, when he asks me if I'm ready. When he tells me how many strokes I am to receive if we're counting that day, and if I am to count out loud. I like to be told why I'm being spanked if there's a reason, or that he's spanking me just because he wants to if there's not. As he talks, I arch under the gentle pressure of whichever implement is in his hand. A leather strap might be rubbed in circles over my bottom. A cane might slide back and forth or tap across the path it will soon take.

In this scenario, the tawse tickles the insides of my thighs, the furrow of my backside. I imagine the tips of the tails glistening slightly from licking me lightly between the legs. Then he says something new, something I've been craving to hear in real play since this fantasy occurred:

"This is going to hurt."

I'm not given a chance to protest or acquiesce before he begins laying into me, whipping me steadily, the heavy tawse feeling strangely less like a strap and more like how a cane might feel if it were made of stiff leather. There's the tiniest moment of breathing room between the sting and the next stroke, something I've also come to look forward to during a caning, that moment when I can announce a number if I'm counting, or reposition myself if I've squirmed out of place. His words echo along with my own squeals. Perhaps it hurts more only because he said it would.

It's not the pain I want. I've written about that before. For me, a spanking (or caning, or tawsing, or strapping, etc.) is about giving up control, or at least pretending that I have. I think that phrase strikes a nerve specifically because I don't want the pain. It's a reminder that I'm no longer making the decisions, that it's going to hurt as much as he chooses to make it hurt. It's also a promise that he's going to take me as far as I need to go, that it's not just foreplay but the real thing.

A few days after this phrase became my newest spanking-related obsession, I encountered a few clips of Amelia Jane Rutherford asking, "Is this going to hurt?" or "Is it going to hurt as much as the last time?" I guess I'm not the only one who likes to be told. Of course it's going to hurt. We all know that. If we're lucky, yes, it will hurt as much as the last time. Isn't that what gets us into these situations in the first place? But being told it's going to hurt--that gets the blood going, doesn't it? Just writing about it creates a heady mix of fear and anticipation and arousal. Tell me it's going to hurt. I promise to tell you when it does.

I like to be told
If it's going to hurt.
If it's going to be hard,
If it's not going to hurt.
I like to be told.
I like to be told.
("I Like to Be Told," music & lyrics,
amusingly, by Mister Fred Rogers)


  1. This is a very hot post, Abby-- thanks! You're really an excellent writer, and I enjoy your blog!

  2. Indiana--Thank you so much! I'm just getting back into posting consistently, but I've missed it. I really could not be happier that people are enjoying it. My husband must be tired of hearing about it at this point, I've talked about it so much these past few days. But really, I love this. Thanks again!


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