When I was 12 I had developed an obsessive interest in spankings. My parents never spanked me, but had occasionally threatened to over the years for the biggest of misbehavior.
This is not say I wanted to be spanked, exactly, but I was intensely curious what it was like. Nonetheless, I was very scared of spankings and viewed them as a real punishment to be avoided at all costs. It was all very conflicting and confusing.
One day when I was 12 I was at the mall with my mom. I was very bored, didn’t want to be there, and was complaining non-stop and just generally having a terrible attitude.
Finally, mom snapped and said if I didn’t straighten up I’d get a spanking as soon as we got home.
The threat worked and I didn’t say another word. But once we got home, I couldn’t stop thinking about that threat and how I probably did deserve to be spanked. And then all those thoughts of naughty curiosity came floooding back.
I was so close to just asking mom for a spanking. I even wrote a draft of a note I was going to leave in the kitchen for her to find. I was too embarrassed to ask face to face but I thought maybe I could manage writing that note stating I thought I deserved to get a spanking and would wait in my room for her.
Ultimately though, I chickened out and tore up the note. I never found out what a spanking is like.