Genevieve

Hey could you do one where Anne gets in trouble at school

Please update Anne’s story 
          

Heyyyyy. Hope you are doing well❤️ I was just curious if you would be updating either of your stories??? If not that’s alllll good. 

In less than one month, I will celebrate my 1 year anniversary of marriage. That's right...marriage! Even though it's become so commonplace to me to say "my husband" (and boy, did I wear out that phrase in the last many months) it is still strange to think that I've passed this milestone.
          
          We're very happy. In just one year we've already built an incredible life together and we are working on building it up further. We have a shared investment account, a comfortable apartment, nice furniture, and an impressive stash of frozen meat, baking supplies, and spices. We have our own routines and rituals together and loads of inside jokes. 
          
          I look back on my old posts here and wish I could speak to my past self. Not just to tell her the joy that is eminent, but to tap in to her carefree spirit and poetic self-destruction, despite the irony of her self-awareness. I wish I could hug her and tell her that everything will be okay. But it will also be different.
          
          I fantasized about love for years, over a decade even. I imagined a million ways someone could hold me on their lap, brush my hair from my face, kiss my temples, talk to me sweetly. I became an addict to these desires. I thought that one day, if they became true, I would cured of my perpetual unhappiness.
          
          And in general, I am happier. I sleep better, eat better, shower more. But there's still a restless, lingering dissatisfaction that I can't shake, no matter how much love I absorb.
          
          All of the resources online come back to the same cryptic piece of advice: love yourself! They say that because your parent didn't love you the right way, and even though you're all messed up inside, you should still find a way to love yourself because no one else is going to love you the way you should have been loved twenty years ago! How the hell is this possible?
          
          I thought all that time ago and that someone would eventually scoop me up and save me at the edge of adulthood. Well, now I'm a 21 year old wife and I have to love myself

Hi, can u please update good behaviors soon! It’s a really good story 

Hi!  Will you be updating your story?

Heyyy I am a big fan! and yeah I just heard your podcast n it's amazing!!!

I always fall in love with my boss.
          
          Well, not all the time. But it's happened often enough that I've noticed a trend. So when I sat down to interview with young, handsome, and charismatic W, I knew he would be my next big crush.
          
          I got the job, of course. I'm an experienced waitress with open availability during a labor shortage. His face lit up, saying "So, what do you think? Let's do it? Yeah?" as I grinned and shook his hand.
          
          I spent the first month at my new job staring him up and down, from his smart non-slip shoes to the collar of his button-up. I couldn't get the idea of him scolding and/or spanking me out of my mind. Even on his LinkedIn, he describes his philosophy as, "Setting strong expectations, followed by firm and fair accountability." You can't make this sh-t up. 
          
          With the restaurant being so much larger than my last several jobs, I even had a setting for my daydreams. The main plot starting with us somehow discovering each other's fetish either though a slip of the tongue or some other lucky coincidence. Then, as the last two people in the restaurant, he spanks me over his knee in the private dining room, the music still playing and the lights still dimmed for dinner service.
          
          This bring us to now. I've learned he is happily married with kids. We've maintained a professional relationship but developed a sort of friendship.
          
          The other day, one of the line cooks made a crude comment about a hostess's body. As management investigated, it revealed a pattern of behavior. I had had some issues with him in the past, so W sat down to talk with me.
          
          "In about seven years, my daughter could be working at a place like this. I wouldn't want that to happen to her. You're much older than her, but you're young enough that you could be my daughter. And I see you as such, in a way."
          
          Perhaps an overstep on his part, but my attraction for him grew tenfold after that conversation. I am so much more confused about my feelings for him than when this all first began.

Hey there! I've read your poetry and spanking story! I love them! You write really really well! I can't wait to read more! I hope you think the same of my work if you want to read and follow. 

I met someone. And true to myself, it's not at all what I want but good enough for right now.
          
          Our first "date" was a hookup, but somehow magical in a way I could never replicate. We drank shots of chilled russian vodka from crystal shotglasses. He showed me the difference between glass and crystal. "This one will sound musical." He clinked the two together and we listened as the chime faded to silence.
          
          It's been weeks of sleeping together almost every night and we have never been out to dinner. We've found ourselves in comfortable routine: He texts me to come over at about 10pm every night. I arrive with my hair still wet from the shower and we drink, talk about our day, then make love until I fall asleep in his arms.
          
          He's so attractive—much taller than me, handsome, a resident physician so he's intelligent. He is the russian standard for masculinity. He won't let me open the door. He takes my glass right out of my hand without asking for a sip. He handles me like a doll, positioning me as he pleases.
          
          There's things I'm afraid of. We have little in common and I honestly can't imagine what he sees in me besides my body. Do I listen well? Am I funny? Am I charming? I have no f-ing idea.
          
          I asked him last night, before I passed out from my buzz, and after asking all kinds of silly, bold questions, "Do you believe that men should be in charge of women?" Without hesitation, "Yes." As a submissive, I melted. As a feminist, I cringed. He wasn't kidding.
          
          There are so many things I want to ask, so many things I'd like to make clear between us. "Am I here only for sex?" "What's your view on abortion rights?" And, of course, "Will you PLEASE spank me?" 
          
          I don't want to disrupt this new familiarity in my life. The very least he can do, the chauvinist, is throw me over his knee.