On my way home I rode my bike down hill with a smile on my face

He spanked me, HARD. I mean, it's been over six hours since he paddled me and I am being forced to sleep on my tummy. He had punished me already. I should have expected a harsher punishment for the repeat offense. Or I could have simply kept it my secret, hold on to it with shame and embarrassment. However, there was a thrill, almost eagerness awaiting to see what he'd do if I confessed a repeat offense. He spanked me with his hand, and after the pause I was convinced he had reached back for the wooden bath brush, later I learned he had continued to spank with just his hand. He had said I would be paddled, the paddling for the first confession was intense, but nothing compared to the one I got today. I was bent over, grasping that chair with dear life. I wanted to scream. Get up and rub the pain being ignited on my bare, unprotected cheeks. But I held on with determination, sweat formulating on my face, screaming inaudible OWS. He's never discussed or mentioned any consequences about getting out of position during a punishment, but the least I can do is force my self to at least accept it without reluctance.