My life is going through another phase of change at the moment – forthcoming house move, attendant financial stresses, trying to get ahead with work to create time for all the practicalities. I’m simultaneously in great need of stress relief spankings, but obviously far too busy and important to have time for them.

Well. Not quite: if my spanker were, say, to stride into my office mid-work, tell me to take off my headphones, flip me over despite my protests that I couldn’t possibly take a break right this second, and whack me for a few minutes before disappearing again, that would probably help my state of mind no end. Once I’d recovered from my initial indignance, that is.

But alas, I do not live with a fantasy sex object top who is psychic and exists merely to serve my needs. I live with a real human who has his own stuff going on, and if I want spankings I need to do things like, you know, be nice to him and spend some time with him occasionally.

It might also help if I took him up on offers of bedroom time when he made them, rather than instantly feeling panicky and turning him down because I have NO TIME and must get back to work THIS INSTANT. I really am stupid sometimes.

Twice this week I have had enough sense to ask for what I needed. Tuesday was particularly overwhelming for some reason, and while crying on D’s shoulder for the third or fourth time that day, I whispered that I thought I might need some stress relief, and might there be time to beat me after dinner?

My lover is ever so obliging. He stretched me out facedown on the bed and spanked me, not hard, warming my bottom slowly. Then he took me by surprise: flipped me over and attended to other parts of me, equally slowly, with his tongue. Just as I was getting into that, he stopped, rolled me back over, and gave me a dozen strokes with the wide leather strap, six on one side and six on the other. Then he flipped me back over again. I quickly stopped trying to predict where he was taking me and relaxed into the sensations, enjoying the rollercoaster ride of pleasure and pain. After a few rounds of this I was sensitised all over and eager to give him some pleasure in return. I slept very well that night.

As the week wore on I managed to fight my stress levels back under control, and, thankfully, stopped bursting into tears at random. The more functional I felt, however, the more I yearned for an extended play session. Last night, after a conversation with other unspanked ladies on twitter, and feeling that increasing tingly sense of aching anticipation that a bottom gets when it knows it has been spending too long sitting at a desk and not enough time being spanked, I decided to act.

I reached a point in the evening – not quite a natural break, but a moment when I accepted the fact that my work for the day was going to take another few hours, so if I waited until I was done before taking a rest, D would already be asleep. I hadn’t sought out his company earlier because I needed to wash my hair and was still in my gym clothes, and I don’t like initiating sex when I’m not feeling fresh. But now I thought sod it, if my current state would be good enough for an on-the-spot whacking from Fantasy Spanker, it was good enough for one in real life.

I knocked on his door and approached him at the computer. I greeted him in our usual way and took his hands. I asked nicely for what I wanted. And, despite limping on the ankle injury he’d gained since we last played, D joined me in the bedroom and did right by me. He knelt me on the floor, kneeling on a box to raise my hips with the level of the bed, perched next to me and spanked me with hand and ruler.

When he first got the ruler out I made wide eyes and informed him that I’d requested a spanking, not anything involving wood.

Here’s where it gets complicated: I kind of wanted him to beat me with the ruler anyway. I wanted to – as it were – be overruled. I wanted to protest and struggle a bit, be worn down by the force of his assertion. I wanted him to initiate and lead. But that wasn’t what was happening here. He was tired and in pain, and was doing this because I’d asked for it – so when I argued, he backed down and used his hand.

Not that his hand isn’t effective. But I soaked up the smacks like a dry sponge. Each impact ignited a deeper tingle in my hungry cheeks and made me want more, more, more. I gasped and made happy noises as the ache in my bottom was replaced by a growing warmth. A particularly stinging series of spanks knocked all thought out of my mind for a blessed few moments, and when I was able to speak again I said gratefully, “Mmm, that was nice.” A few smacks later I corrected myself: “Not nice. But good.” And it was.

Still, it was over all too soon for my greedy self. I rubbed my bottom, inspecting the pink colour in the mirror, and considered flinging myself back over his lap. But he told me that he thought that would have to do for now.

Later, of course, back at my desk, I felt guilty for imposing myself on him despite his injury, his low energy. Had I inconvenienced him? Can a spanking really satisfy if it’s being given as a favour? I didn’t just crave the sensations, I craved his dominance.

This morning, I woke up bright and early, full of plans for my work and errands for the day. I came back into the bedroom to dress, and lay down beside D to give him a good morning cuddle. It was a good cuddle. I found myself wishing I wasn’t terribly busy and important, and could spend the morning in bed with him instead. He was apparently thinking along similar lines. “Say good morning, then,” he whispered, guiding me towards his thickening cock. I bent my head willingly, thinking that this would be a stimulating appetiser ahead of the main course later in the day. But apparently the sight of my upturned bottom wagging in the mirror as I suckled him was too much of a temptation: the next thing I knew, I was told to lie over his lap.

My first thought was, but I have so much to do! I had a plan, which was to do the urgent work first and then spend some time in bed this afternoon. Why couldn’t he understand that this wasn’t convenient for me?

Then he started spanking me. Hard.

I had time to think: wasn’t this what I wanted yesterday, to be spanked on his terms, not my own? Maybe I could start work a little later after all.

Then again, by that point, I didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

It was very painful, more painful than I would have asked for. It was early – I hadn’t even had my morning cup of tea yet. It wasn’t a nice spanking.

But it was definitely good.