A Perfect Bedtime Spanking

This is a deep peak inside my head so it feels a bit vulnerable, what I often think about while falling asleep or when thinking about a cozy bedtime spanking. It feels very personal, this look inside an ideal fantasy. I enjoy the thought of being the last thing someone needs to take care of or deal with, before they themselves go to bed. The last item on a do-do list – do the dishes, check; tidy the living room, check; put Marie to bed, check. It’s not usually practical with the realities of day-to-day life and parenthood, but it’s in there.

This is one version of what a perfect bedtime spanking could look like for me. Other versions would feel just as complete but this is one that occupies a happy little nook that I feel comfortable sharing and think of often. Accidentally posted a PW protected version of this a few days ago before it was ready for the world.

When I think of a bedtime spanking, I don’t just think of a spanking that takes place before bedtime or at night. It’s not just about the timing. In fact, the timing is important but just happens to be the perfect context for this type of spanking – end of the day, nothing else to do or think about or take care of. Teeth are brushed, face is washed, fresh pajamas (and panties) are on. The house is quiet, the only light a bedside lamp.

On the night stand are all the necessary things. Lotion, of course, because how else would it end? Maybe my hairbrush or ruler are nearby, out of habit – unlikely to be used in this context, but available if the situation calls for it. A suitable book – Paddington, or Pooh Bear, or Can’t you Sleep, Little Bear? (I have it in both English and German, Kannst du nicht Schlafen Kleiner Bär?). Maybe a thermometer and the requisite Vaseline – the sight of which will make me blush before my panties are even taken down. Would it be used?

Everything is just so. It’s warm, it’s cosy, it’s gentle – but there will still be a firm spanking. Over the knee, physically close, plenty of rubbing, back pats, affection. I’m stood up, hands on my head or behind my back and my pajamas and panties are matter-of-factly lowered right down to my knees. I blush and am guided over the waiting knee, where I squirm, trying to get comfortable. I am held tightly around the waist, my bottom protruding a bit, as it always does when arranged just so over a knee. Rubbing. A few firm pats.

A wordless spanking, talking isn’t necessary – not hard, but not light, a steady pace. Nothing to fight, but it can’t be ignored. My bottom quickly warms, eventually the smacks start to sting and my legs start to shift. I’m not trying to get away, but maybe making sure I can’t? Maybe the other leg comes over mine at this point. The smacks falling now are firmer, with a bit of a bite. They’re catching the underside of my bottom and begin to fall on my upper thighs, too, before returning to the fullest part. I know I am going to be red and sore all over when I fall asleep on my tummy. The smacks on my thighs catch my attention – and my breath. My hand is at my hip. I am not reaching back! It doesn’t matter. My hand is in the perfect spot to be plucked from my side and pinned into the small of my back. I can barely squirm now, my breathing picks up. I whimper. The smacks falling now are hard. No nonsense. Not the hardest they could be, but leaving no question that they’re meant to be felt.

I can’t get away and I don’t want to, I whimper into the bed covers and ball them into my left fist, nothing left to do but submit, because I have no control over when it’ll stop, if it’ll stop. I let out a breath and relax, my whimpering growing softer. The smacks slow for a moment but are just as hard. Suddenly there’s a hand cupping my cheek, the heat throbbing into it a bit. A firm squeeze. I squeak. More patting and rubbing. Gratuitous (hopefully) – my spanker is enjoying my bottom and I want him to, the rubbing is more for him than my comforting. I smile into the blanket, my breathing evens out. He is inspecting the redness, lifting my cheeks to see the underside, his fingers pulling them apart, exposing me and making me hold my breath for a beat. I remember the thermometer.

The warm hand is gone, my hand is released from my back, but the leg still pins me down. I’m still not going anywhere for a while. I sigh and settle into my position as I hear the lotion open – no thermometer tonight. I would claim this is my favorite part, but the whole thing is my favorite part. I could fall asleep as the cool lotion is massaged into every inch of my sore bottom and upper thighs with absolutely no urgency. This is for me but also clearly for him, as well and that’s a good feeling. I want a bedtime spanking to feel like it’s for both of us. A quiet, controlled, gentle, end to any type of day.

A quiet cuddle and story to follow, a sleepy girl drifting off before the book is even put down – occasionally, before it’s even picked up.

That’s the thing about a bedtime spanking, it’s just so lovely to quietly enjoy and be quietly enjoyed by someone.

-M

PS: I don’t know where my husband bought it, but this is the thermometer we have at my house (well, and various digital ones, since they’re easier to find on the fly) but I think you can occasionally fine this brand at Rite Aid, as well. The glass is very vibey.