Asking For It

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Asking For It

(*****, M/F, Intense, semi-cons spanking)

The tender story of a wife learning to accept a spanking. (Approximately 500 words. Originally published 2006-01.)

I once heard a man describe spanking as "beautiful."

I was astonished, horrified. Spankings are awful. Spankings are screaming chaos, miserable agony, humiliation and shame.

"Were you ever spanked?"

"Most certainly."

"Didn't it hurt? Didn't you cry? Didn't you kick and fight?"

"Yes, yes, and no."

"You didn't fight it?"

"No," he said softly. "In my family, a spanking did not happen until I asked for it."


"When I was due a spanking, it was up to me to decide on the where and when. I had to ask."

"So you could postpone it?" That's a great idea, I thought.



He hesitated. "If I wanted. But I never did."

"You mean you _wanted_ to get spanked?"

"Of course not. Spankings hurt."

"Then why--"

He smiled enigmatically. "Someday you'll understand."

We married seventeen months later. Our marriage was wonderful. Two years later I was still pinching myself, wondering how I could be so lucky.

Of course it wasn't perfect. We're human and made mistakes. But when Jim screwed up, no matter how trivial or major, he owned up immediately. I was the opposite. I tried to hide it, pretend it hadn't happened.

I wrecked our new BMW, our first major purchase together. Coming out of a parking lot I missed looking left and got sideswiped. Seven grand in damage. For weeks I pretended I'd taken the car in for detailing. Stupid. He was going to find out when the bills came.

Of course he did. But he was more upset about my lame cover-up than the accident. "That was childish! You deserve a spanking."


"You choose. Come to me when you're ready to be responsible."

I pretended to agree and thought, "Ha! I'll never do it!"

Weeks passed. He never spoke of it, but it was in his eyes. Sad eyes. Disappointed eyes. The life went out of our marriage. I couldn't look at him. He was waiting.

I was wrong and he was right: I had been foolish and deserved spanking. But I was afraid. It would hurt. It would be embarrassing.

Weeks drifted into months. Still I resisted. I was fighting with myself. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat.

Finally I broke.

Like a naughty girl, I was standing naked in a corner when he came home. Mom's hairbrush was on an armless chair nearby with a note that read, "Spank me. Please."

"Are you sure?" he asked, and I could hear the catch in his voice. This was our marriage, all our love in one response.

My brain swirled. I couldn't believe I was saying it: "Yes."

The spanking hurt. It hurt awfully. I cried. But I didn't kick and fight. I accepted it.

You know what? Every stinging spank was healing. I sobbed like my heart was broken, but when it was over, my heart was whole. WE were whole. We kissed and made love like wild animals.

Later I whispered, "You were right. Spankings ARE beautiful!"

The End