Spankaholic woes

I’m on to my seventh year of getting spankings. Lucky number seven. 
The first time I was ever spanked, I was left wanting more, however my bottom didn’t agree, I was new to spanking and my butt bruised severely. The guy spanking me didn’t want to harm me and stopped despite my pleas of wanting more. I was hooked on spanking, I wanted to be spanked weekly, daily! I found myself draped across nearly anyone who had lap and a swinging arm. I bruised as many hands as they bruised me. I stopped using my safe call as to not be judged by the number of times I was meeting new people. I was spanked in parks, in the back of cars, in parking lots, in hotels, in the back of the library, in restaurants, across tomb stones, over fallen trees, in dorms, I walked into people’s houses not knowing anything besides their screen name; yet I’ve been left wanting more and more, a never ending satisfaction, insatiable, unquenchable.