The Day That Rocked My World

I can't remember a time when I wasn't fascinated with spanking. I'm pretty sure I was wired that way from birth. In my early teens I made up a fantasy about a jeans-clad girl I called Jennie-Lee Sheridan. She got into heaps of trouble, for which she was spanked by her big brother, who looked a lot like Adam Cartwright in Bonanza.

When I started dating, in the early sixties, I was spanked playfully by a couple of boyfriends and liked how it made me feel. How ironic then, that the love of my life should turn out to be a dedicated spank-no. He was appalled when I asked him to spank me and, eventually, tired of my persistence, forbade me from raising the subject ever again. I understood his reluctance, it was against his nature and upbringing, but I wanted it so!

Over the years, I still made up fantasies, like mini-series in my head. They were mostly along the lines of loving husband spanking wayward wife. There were a couple of times when I toyed with the idea of telling Harry just how much I wanted to be spanked, despite his ban on the subject. I had some good material. A man wrote to an agony aunt in a Sunday supplement for advice, after his wife had asked him to spank her.  He was shocked and horrified that, in his words, she wanted to turn him into a wife beater. The agony aunt put him straight. There it was, a positive slant on spanking in a mainstream publication! I didn't show it to Harry though, I still remembered the revulsion in his face that first time I asked him to take me over his knee.

Another time, I was leafing through a lads' mag whilst waiting in the barber shop for Harry. There was an article in which a man told how much he loved spanking his wife and, in turn, the wife told how much she enjoyed a spanking, applied by the firm hand of her loving husband. I contemplated putting the magazine in my handbag but, again, I chickened out.

The years rolled by and, sometime in my fifties, I accepted it was never going to happen so there was really no point in fantasising about it any longer. You can imagine my shock when, one morning after some MFL, Harry told me the Fifty Shades of Grey hoo-ha had made him think that spanking might not be such a terrible thing after all and he was willing to try it. If you've ever wondered what caused the Earth to tilt on its axis one Sunday in January 2013, now you know that Harry caused it! I was sixty-one at that point and wasn't sure I wanted to go there after so long. I took some time to think about it so it was another four days until Harry steeled himself to spank me for the very first time.

Sometime back in January was the fifth anniversary of that first, tentative, spanking.
You would think that the date of such a monumental event would be forever etched in my memory. I remember the date when Harry first kissed me and the date he first told me he loved me. I'll never forget the day when we told the world we were an item (it was complicated!) or the first time we lay together. I also remember not only the date of our wedding but also the date we got engaged, 49 years ago.

But I don't remember the date that changed my life. I know it was a Thursday but which particular one in that month eludes me. We've come such a long way since then, I'd really love to celebrate the anniversary of the day when the last piece of the puzzle fell into place and Harry finally had the whole of me. Maybe next year we'll celebrate on each Thursday in January, one of them will be the right one!


Rosie