FLR, CFNM, SPH, ABDL, Sissy, MF, OTK, IRL, LTR, Cuck, ANR/ABF
CHAS ( -tity ) HUM ( -iliation )
I decided I’m going to use my journal to explain why I found interest in each of the acronyms that have made me an acronymboy.
One at a time … and in no particular order.
OTK (Over The Knee)
There is only one woman in this entire world who has ever spanked me. And I deserved it, every single time I got it when I was young until I started behaving the way she wanted me to. LOL She used a pot stick, if not just her hand - the same pot stick she stirred spaghetti sauce with.
Ironically, I love spaghetti and always have. Haha
But my OTK viewpoint is the polar opposite of what you might expect. I don’t actually have an affinity for the smack of a pot stick or of a hand. And I’m not a fan of spanking… per se.
I don’t like pain. Pain hurts. There’s nothing pleasurable for me about it. So, the swift crack of a hand on my backside isn’t something that arouses me or makes me long for and hope for another swift crack.
Yet OTK is a craving I have that I can’t explain. It’s not just some random thing that sounds great in fantasy but falters in reality. I think of the destination it would take me to every time … and the journey along the way to get there. And despite how I feel about pain, it is a part of that journey. Pain will always be there and I will feel it.
Luckily, there are other aspects to OTK that make the pain worth putting up with, worth feeling. When I think of it, I mentally salivate about the use of it for maintenance control purposes - to keep me in line and to routinely remind me of the fundamental need to be a good listener. I can see it as being a powerful source of behavior modification, when such a modification is required. And in that sense, it is real punishment - fantasies need not apply.
In the mind’s eye, I can see her sitting on a chair on the other side of a room. Her grace and poise are evident in the ever-present wiles of her appearance, disposition and posture. But nothing is more polarizing than the summoning finger she uses to make me walk over to her, a red fingernail being my guide. With lowered eyes and shrunken shoulders, I abide and I walk over to her - knowing well what is about to happen and knowing that she has me wrapped around that summoning finger. I won’t defy her, ever. I can’t. I no longer know how to and I never wanted to defy her anyway.
“Take your pants down,” she says with a slightly-lowered and steady tone.
My equilibrium is already out of whack as I unzip my pants and lower them to my ankles. There I stand, as exposed and as vulnerable as can be. My head is spinning and causing me to lock my knees to stay on my feet, but I won’t be on my feet much longer. I look down at her nylon-covered thighs, knowing what she’s gonna do.
“Do you need to be spanked?” she asks with that same lowered steadiness in her voice, her words cutting through me as easily as a warm knife goes through butter.
“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes and having trouble believing I just answered that way.
But she has me trained already. There is no other answer.
Directing me down over her lap, she clamps her thighs together - pinching my endowments between them. This is the easiest way to keep me from trying to get away. Even if I were able to wiggle free, I would be in considerable pain down there from the exodus.
She places her left hand on my lower back and raises her right hand. I reach down and take hold of the two left side legs of the chair, a direction she gave me the very first time I experienced OTK from her.
Her first swing is quick. Then her second and her third. And the mental games begin, the journey I’m craving. Smoothing out the pain, she rubs the surfaces of my cheeks. She is in no particular hurry to get through this. Then she lifts her right hand again, but holds it in the air as the game of Chinese water torture commences - that span of time that I wait for the next strike … a span of time for which I don’t know the length. And I know not to look back over my shoulder to find out.
After what feels like an eternity, I get the 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th strikes, another bit of rubbing the surfaces to follow and more Chinese water torture. I begin to lose track of the count and as the sting travels into the meat of my cheeks, I begin to squirm. The pain is excruciating.
That’s when she shifts her seated position, forcing me to the left slightly and wrapping her right leg around the back of my thighs. She will work on me slowly but steadily and she will break me.
Now comes the destination. That moment when I give up.
I have only every cried when people die. I don’t know what other tears are about. But at that moment, I will learn and then I will know.
In the afterwards, I find myself embracing the very person who put me over her knees - a mutual bond that is suddenly stronger. My sit spots will be sore for the rest of that night and all of tomorrow, at least. And it will be those sit spots that will serve as the most effective non-verbal reminders of why I was OTK … because she is in charge.
Quite to the contrary of what might be expected, my will power is now actually stronger. But it’s more focused and directed … my will is her will.
And at an unknown point in the future - near or far, she will remind me of this again … with another OTK.
CHAS ( -tity ) HUM ( -iliation )
I decided I’m going to use my journal to explain why I found interest in each of the acronyms that have made me an acronymboy.
One at a time … and in no particular order.
OTK (Over The Knee)
There is only one woman in this entire world who has ever spanked me. And I deserved it, every single time I got it when I was young until I started behaving the way she wanted me to. LOL She used a pot stick, if not just her hand - the same pot stick she stirred spaghetti sauce with.
Ironically, I love spaghetti and always have. Haha
But my OTK viewpoint is the polar opposite of what you might expect. I don’t actually have an affinity for the smack of a pot stick or of a hand. And I’m not a fan of spanking… per se.
I don’t like pain. Pain hurts. There’s nothing pleasurable for me about it. So, the swift crack of a hand on my backside isn’t something that arouses me or makes me long for and hope for another swift crack.
Yet OTK is a craving I have that I can’t explain. It’s not just some random thing that sounds great in fantasy but falters in reality. I think of the destination it would take me to every time … and the journey along the way to get there. And despite how I feel about pain, it is a part of that journey. Pain will always be there and I will feel it.
Luckily, there are other aspects to OTK that make the pain worth putting up with, worth feeling. When I think of it, I mentally salivate about the use of it for maintenance control purposes - to keep me in line and to routinely remind me of the fundamental need to be a good listener. I can see it as being a powerful source of behavior modification, when such a modification is required. And in that sense, it is real punishment - fantasies need not apply.
In the mind’s eye, I can see her sitting on a chair on the other side of a room. Her grace and poise are evident in the ever-present wiles of her appearance, disposition and posture. But nothing is more polarizing than the summoning finger she uses to make me walk over to her, a red fingernail being my guide. With lowered eyes and shrunken shoulders, I abide and I walk over to her - knowing well what is about to happen and knowing that she has me wrapped around that summoning finger. I won’t defy her, ever. I can’t. I no longer know how to and I never wanted to defy her anyway.
“Take your pants down,” she says with a slightly-lowered and steady tone.
My equilibrium is already out of whack as I unzip my pants and lower them to my ankles. There I stand, as exposed and as vulnerable as can be. My head is spinning and causing me to lock my knees to stay on my feet, but I won’t be on my feet much longer. I look down at her nylon-covered thighs, knowing what she’s gonna do.
“Do you need to be spanked?” she asks with that same lowered steadiness in her voice, her words cutting through me as easily as a warm knife goes through butter.
“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes and having trouble believing I just answered that way.
But she has me trained already. There is no other answer.
Directing me down over her lap, she clamps her thighs together - pinching my endowments between them. This is the easiest way to keep me from trying to get away. Even if I were able to wiggle free, I would be in considerable pain down there from the exodus.
She places her left hand on my lower back and raises her right hand. I reach down and take hold of the two left side legs of the chair, a direction she gave me the very first time I experienced OTK from her.
Her first swing is quick. Then her second and her third. And the mental games begin, the journey I’m craving. Smoothing out the pain, she rubs the surfaces of my cheeks. She is in no particular hurry to get through this. Then she lifts her right hand again, but holds it in the air as the game of Chinese water torture commences - that span of time that I wait for the next strike … a span of time for which I don’t know the length. And I know not to look back over my shoulder to find out.
After what feels like an eternity, I get the 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th strikes, another bit of rubbing the surfaces to follow and more Chinese water torture. I begin to lose track of the count and as the sting travels into the meat of my cheeks, I begin to squirm. The pain is excruciating.
That’s when she shifts her seated position, forcing me to the left slightly and wrapping her right leg around the back of my thighs. She will work on me slowly but steadily and she will break me.
Now comes the destination. That moment when I give up.
I have only every cried when people die. I don’t know what other tears are about. But at that moment, I will learn and then I will know.
In the afterwards, I find myself embracing the very person who put me over her knees - a mutual bond that is suddenly stronger. My sit spots will be sore for the rest of that night and all of tomorrow, at least. And it will be those sit spots that will serve as the most effective non-verbal reminders of why I was OTK … because she is in charge.
Quite to the contrary of what might be expected, my will power is now actually stronger. But it’s more focused and directed … my will is her will.
And at an unknown point in the future - near or far, she will remind me of this again … with another OTK.
