. . . even when she's not thinking about them herself.
In a wonderful post this morning, Renee gives a brief, hot analysis, with an even hotter anecdote, about what makes quickies hot. Because Renee is so incredibly forthcoming about her relationship with her husband, I think it was extra hot for me (and for any of the rest of her audience who follows her writing), since I know how important spanking is in their relationship, and it instantly got me thinking about quickie spankings (quickings?).
I think quickings have something special about them that's analogous to the naughtiness Renee so correctly identifies in the more standard form of quickie. If for example fantasy-Charles (as he does sometimes) summoned fantasy-me to his office, it might go something like this:
The phone rang. "Emily," came Charles' voice at the other end of the phone. I could tell from the single word what was coming--it was the tone-of-voice equivalent of the look that makes me reflexively put my hand down, behind me, to shield my bottom.
It's naughtiness, right? But in the quicking, maybe the naughtiness can be ratcheted up higher, because it begins from the naughtiness that earns the spanking.
I should add that in real-Charles' and my relationship, quickings tend to happen as a result of me intentionally doing something to make Charles take me over his knee. Very rarely (but also very wonderfully), I'll also earn one unintentionally by pouting or swearing or something of the sort. In those cases, there's a very swift negotiation (compare Renee's post, on the matter of negotiation) in which Charles says something like "Do I need to spank you?" and I'll either say "No" (what we call a "cold No") or "NO!!!" (what we call a "hot No"). In the former case, I'll generally modify whatever in my behavior I myself see as silly or negative (or, if the case is more serious, the fight will start in earnest). In the latter case, the good part happens (if I have the presence of mind, and I'm giving a hot No, I'll add "Sir, please" to my "NO!!!"--which Charles knows to read as "Yes.")
"Get your naughty bottom to my office right now."
"Sir, can't it wait?" It didn't really matter what I was going to be punished for, since trying to negotiate on the cause would only earn me worse. But saving myself a trip into the city was worth a few extra welts. I swallowed. "Wouldn't you rather take your time?"
"No, sweetheart. I just heard what you told Noreen Michaels about the CompuTime account."
My stomach flipped. "Yes, Sir. I'll take the next train."
So there's the basic naughtiness. Am I right that when it really gets going, the naughtiness of the quicking itself builds on that?
He closed his office door behind us. "Pull your skirt up and your panties down, Emily. We only have five minutes for this."
"But, Charles--Tracy will hear!"
"I don't care, sweetheart. What you did was inexcusable, and I need to make sure you understand that. Kneeling over that chair, please." He was already taking off his belt.
Trembling and close to tears, I obeyed my husband, grasping the legs of the old windsor chair as I raised my backside for punishment.
Not only, I was sure, would Tracy hear the slaps of the belt, but she would almost certainly hear me crying out as I was beaten. I bit the inside of my mouth, hoping at least to spare myself that indignity.
In the end, I didn't manage it, and as I left with my bottom in a state that wouldn't permit me to sit on the train home, Tracy's sympathetic look into my too-bright eyes was all the more humiliating.
I know some of my readers prefer the more realistic stuff, but there are things you can do with a housewife and an investment-banker that you just can't do with a lawyer and a Latin teacher. Every time I try to fantasize about being summoned to Charles' school for a spanking in his classroom, I think "Good lord, that job was hard to get! We'd have to be stupid to try that, wouldn't we?"