Starting the Year Right

 Starting the Year Right

New Year’s Day evening has a different kind of quiet when the kids are gone. The house feels bigger somehow—less noise, fewer demands, more space just for us. By the time dinner was cleaned up and the lights were dim, I was already in my cozy pajamas, feeling relaxed… and just mischievous enough to get myself into trouble.

It started innocently enough. A teasing comment here, a smirk there. Then I escalated—grabbing a pillow and tossing it straight at him before he could react. I laughed and took off down the hallway, fully aware that I’d crossed the line and absolutely delighted that I had.

He was on me in seconds.

He caught me easily, I squealed and he lifted me like I was a bag of feed. He threw me over his shoulder and swatted me playfully, and reminded me that pajamas do not grant immunity. With mock seriousness, he turned me back toward the living room, as I pounded his back protesting dramatically. Somewhere between laughing and pretending to resist, my comfy PJs—and the layers underneath—were dealt with in one efficient motion before he settled me where I belonged.

Over his knee and my pjs and panties were tossed on the ground as his hand found my bottom over and over again. At first it felt playful but the spanks just kept coming and as my bottom heated up so did my audible cues. 

Then as we went into the 4 or 5 min mark of his hand raining down on my burning bottom my desperation started to increase and so did my twisting and howling. I tried to reach back as his hand snatched my wrist and held me tightly. I pleaded and then the tears started flowing like crazy. Then he slowed to a stop and rested his hand on my red hot bottom. 

My maintenance spanking was exactly that: familiar, grounding, and oddly comforting. It wasn’t about punishment so much as reset—his way of starting the year with clarity, structure, and connection. He told me I needed it, that I’d been asking for it, and that he was more than happy to oblige. Honestly, I think he needed it too. 

When it was over, I slid off the chair and immediately put on my best fake pout, arms crossed, lip pushed out just enough to make him laugh. He pulled me close anyway, kissed the top of my head, and reminded me that he loves me—even when I’m sassy… especially when I’m sassy.

I slid my panties over my very sore bottom and then pulled my pj bottoms up. We curled up on the couch afterward, blankets, Netflix, and not a single interruption in sight. No kids calling our names. No schedules to follow. Just us, unwinding together, starting the year the way we always do—connected, grounded, and very much in sync.

Honestly? If this is how the year begins, I’m feeling pretty optimistic about what’s ahead.