I have mostly relied on spanking illustrations that fed my imaginations. The depiction of a fully clothed older woman, Stern faced, Smirking, even a Nun, aka, the industrial matron, dowager, Governess, and not a sexual fantasy, but a power to face. Her dressed form, controlling the naked form of a young man, and his submission framed as he is pinioned, "ass up" over her knee, feet flying, palms flat on the floor. She looks down her nose; arrogant, pleased, yet so full of a contained, directed, sanctimonious outrage who's remedy, who's direction is served, with the flat of her hand snapping flatly, briskly across his upturned posterior. Nothing brutal. No cuts of the cane, no weal's of the strap, just the meaty flat of the hand slapping the same spot over and over. The unknown. Enough sting to be "stinging" and yet no idea of when this lesson of such high calling will end.
She lectures, she scolds, she questions, while that forearm and hand stay busy indifferent to the cadence of her speech and the reactions of a young man who is being undone, slap after slap, minute by minute. From initial kicking, to other muted struggles, and then towards being conquered, despite the redness of his masculine posterior it is still slapped. Crisply, sharply, with the same purpose as the first slap. Now, thighs spread in surrender, emphasizing, his diminutive presentation as his posterior rolled up and out for this rodeo looks even more helpless more proffered. She smirks and smiles in the lush feeling of her control, feeling a full fledged throbbing erection wedged against her thigh.
Now it's only a matter of minutes.
Ok I guess that does it for me.