I killed the mood but he brought it back

Image by the brilliant Stuart F Taylor

Partway through a fuck, I realise something’s not quite right, and I mention it. BAM! I have killed the mood. I’m annoyed with myself and a little disappointed so I tell him. We stop shagging. We hug. We sweat. I say “sorry” a few more times, because “sorry” is the word I instinctively reach for when I have nothing else to say. “Stop saying sorry,” he tells me. “Stop saying you killed the mood.” But I can’t stop saying it, I’m stuck in a loop of it, and I don’t know how to escape. There are two paths open to him here…

Path 1: Stop everything and pour wine into me

I should make it clear that this guy knows me. Not a lot, but enough. We’ve had quite a few hot conversations about the kind of things we like, and other stuff we’d like to try, and how best he can fuck me up in bed without stepping over my limits. I’ve told him in as many words that I trust his judgment, understand he’s good at consent, and would genuinely really love for him to do painful, kinky things to me. We have also drunk a lot – and I mean a lot – of delicious wine. So at least one of the paths open to him is to get up, head to where the bottle is, and pour each of us a large glass while we decide what to do next.

If you’re fucking and something goes wrong, the most obvious path to pursue is one of comfort and ‘try again later.’ It’s the one I’d instinctively go for, especially if I were in the slightly more dominant role, because it’s a fairly safe bet. When something goes wrong and the mood dies, the easiest thing in my opinion is to show the mood who’s boss: walk immediately away from it like it’s throwing an irrational tantrum, go do something else, and see if it comes crawling back a little later in the evening.

So the first path open to us is obvious: stop, hug, sweat, then go drink wine and see if the mood returns.


Path 2: Flip me over and spank me until I shut up

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling it. I killed the mood, sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“But I…”

At which point he grabbed me, flipped me over, and smacked me – really incredibly hard – on the bum. I buried my face in the bed and squealed, whereupon he smacked me again. Ordered me to put my ass in the air and then rained down smacks until I was breathless with giggles and squeals.

I do not recommend you adopt this approach with anyone, of course. This is not the path for you unless you can be confident the person you’re traveling down it with will appreciate a thorough spanking. But if you’re the guy who I’ve been chatting to about limits and desires and how disgracefully subby most of my fantasies are? The guy who knows I really like getting spanked, and has been looking for an opportunity to do exactly that? The person I have confidence in who I’ve been urging to ‘just do stuff and trust that I’ll tell you if you’re stepping close to a line’?

This is the path.

This one. With a big neon arrow pointing down it, and spotlights to guide the way. The path labelled ‘spank me until I shut up, then when my arse is good and red, fuck me like I’m in trouble.’ A spanking so swift and intense and vicious that it knocks the wind out of me, and it’ll take me at least ten smacks and a lot of pillow-biting and panting and squirming under your hand before I can summon the breath to call you a bastard. The kind of pain that focuses my mind on absolutely nothing but the sting and the heat and wondering when the next whack will fall.

That way leads directly back to the mood, and I promise I won’t say a single extra thing about how I killed it.

I’ll be far too busy enjoying myself.



You will (I hope) note that I’ve written some consent/communication backstory into this post, so you might think including an addendum to highlight consent even further is redundant. However, this guy is fairly new, and so just as he will work harder to discuss limits and boundaries with me before spanking me, I reckon I should work harder to explain to you lot that this stuff does not come out of the blue. You should never try to spank the ‘sorry’ out of someone unless you’ve discussed that kind of thing before. You need to a) have had explicit conversations about whether this will be welcomed and b) understand how someone will say ‘no’ and listen out for it on the off chance it is unwelcome in that instance.

Final point, I am a big fan of the phrase ‘spank the sorry out of me’ and I hope to have many opportunities to use it in future. 


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