The first time my husband spanked me waas over a stupid little thing. Little things add up, I guess. I stared at him like he was nuts when he told me he intended to spank me --- my parents hadn't even spanked me. I realized he was serious when he actually went to the kitchen for a spatula and told me to take down my pants. Quite frankly I cussed him out and stormed off, going to the mall to spend more money. (The thing that had angered him in the first place was a money issue).

I was furious, but felt guilty. I was horrified over the things I'd said to him as I normally don't use bad words. As I walked through the mall I reflected and realized we'd been growing apart for a while. And I considered that I wasn't always the easiest woman to get along with.

To my own shock, I went back home and strode through the house without stopping to say anything to my husband who was grouchily channel surfing. I retrieved the spatula, and heart hammering, cheeks inflamed with humiliation, I handed it to him. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. But maybe this is something you need. Or maybe we both do."

Eyes watering with embarassment, I pulled my pants and panties down to my ankles, and bent over with my hands planted on the coffee table.

Okay let me just say that he wasn't playing and didn't go easy on me. My first spanking was a doozy. I was sobbing before he even began, more from humiliation than anything, but I stood still for it while he painted my ass cheeks red. I saw him in a different way then. I saw me in a different way. And let me say that when he was done, I got on my knees and sucked his dick until he came down my throat. And then I thanked him for it.

Ever since then our relationship has gotten better. A man needs to be a man, and a woman needs to be a woman. Sometimes a good spanking reinforces that.