You read that right- I am declaring 2015 the Year of the Spank. And I know what you're thinking I write books with spanking, I blog about spanking, and if we had an email hack you would see my emails where I mail about spanking. So isn't every year the Year of the Spank??
One would think, but it was a long road to get here.
I've talked about it before- how I have been into spanking and fantasized about it since about forever. And my husband, my sweet, lovable, unassuming husband had this thrust upon him one day.
I won't go into the whole evolution- but some of you may know when you have a relationship that is one part spanko and one part non-spanko (for lack of a better term) then things evolve. There is a give and take. There is talking. Sometimes there isn't enough talking. Things take time. Concessions are made. Points are explained. Experiences are shared.
The point is, the actual spankings have evolved. He used to smack me a few times and then get on with the sex. We had many, many, many talks where I had to assure him I would not break- he was not really hurting me- there would be no lasting damage. It felt like it took forever. There was a long period of time where I would endure any kind of spanking completely silent because it seemed if I made any noise, of pleasure or surprise or god forbid discomfort- it just ended. I didn't want to discourage anything, so I would just bite my lip and take whatever he gave.
Finally, we got to a point where a spanking might even go on longer than I wanted it. Or it hurt just a bit more than I thought it would. I started to wiggle, yell out "Ow" at especially hard smacks and make jokes with him that I would have never brought the whole thing up if I knew I was married to a man that could make his hand feel like a goddamned paddle if he wanted to. His response was a smile and an assurance, "Oh, I can hit much harder than that."
All of this built up over this past year. The spankings have become longer, more frequent, and harder. Much more of what I crave and as I have been explaining, more of what I need. I just need a spanking sometimes. It does help that I can be open and ask for it. It's a good place we have gotten to.
2014 was a good year and I feel like we made a lot of progress as a couple. Not that we needed any work relationship-wise but there you go- we progressed. Personally, professionally (we started a business!), sexually, and spankfully (it's a word, right?).
The year ended (and the New Year started) with less of a bang and more of a *crack*.
Our tradition from many moons ago is to stay in on NYE, watch silly movies, eat horrible (and delicious) snacks, and drink. We used to do it with friends, but now we are all old and married so we stay at our respective houses. Out NYE night has also turned into some kinky play as well as all the other things. So this year I slipped on the lingerie I had put in Mr. McKay's stocking for Christmas (which I love and declared I want to live in it and wear it every night to bed!)
We had some drinks and got a little frisky on the couch. He pulled me down across his lap (hooray! A spanking I don't have to ask for) and he starts spanking me. Hard. I mean really hard. I start to wiggle and he pauses, stroking his hand over my heated flesh. I relax and lay my head back down on the cushion, my eyes drifting close at his soft touch when he starts up again. Now I can't hold it in, I am emitting squeals and I kick my foot up a few times effectively getting in the way of his spanking hand. I wrap my arms around the couch cushion in an effort to keep my hands out of the way and smush my face into it as I try to get a handle on myself, I want this, I keep reminding myself. But oh my god, why??
He stops again, chuckling at my antics as I buck and writhe across his lap. "Just tell me when you want me to stop." I'm elated, the man listens, he really does (well, sometimes at least)- I may have mentioned once or a dozen times that he has a tendency to stop a spanking before I am really ready for it to end. But wait, now he is telling me I have to stop it?
I moan into the cushion and let out a pitiful whimper.
"What?" he asks, real concern lacing his voice.
I look back at him over my shoulder, "I'm never going to tell you to stop!" I drop my head back down as if this is the biggest dilemma ever.
Now he lets out a real laugh, "Oh, my crazy girl," he says as he strokes my pulsating backside before winding up and giving me four more hard smacks that have me calling out with each one.
I was in ecstasy. That is the only way I can explain it. There are many times I have fantasized about the perfect night with my husband and I have to say our New Year's Eve celebration was damn near perfect.
I'm not even getting to the part about the vibrating butt plug... OMG! That's a whole other post to get to. I will be writing a full review, so stay tuned for that.
At the actual stroke of midnight I was snuggled under a blanket on the couch wearing a washed out t-shirt and thread bare yoga pants, burning my mouth on the homemade pizza we popped in the oven (because apparently I can learn to ask for what I want but I can't learn to blow on hot foods before putting them in my gob), and thinking about what an absolutely awesome 2015 we are in store for.
Welcome, folks, to the Year of the Spank!