Whilst it's not my *favourite* thing, I do enjoy the humiliation... the submission (I mean, it's basically like bondage without the ropes, right?)... the almost literal sense of belittling.
In fact, I like it so much that corner time has actually made it into two of my spanking novels: Troublemaker and The Soldier's Girl.
Here are two of those lovely, humiliating moments...
Jo obeyed, gripping the bed’s left post for balance, and Chris got a clear view of her backside which was striped with six overlapping welts, each red and raised.
Mr Anderson gripped her by the shoulders and steered her over to the wall by the door.
“Stand here and face the wall. I want you to think about what you have done and how you will behave differently tomorrow. Stay where you are until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”
“You’re going to go and stand in that corner,” he used the brush to point to the one he meant, “face the wall and think about why you’re being punished. Off you go. Hands behind your back.”
This time, Kathy did as she was told right away, albeit in something of a dreamlike state. None of this felt real just yet… but then each time the glossy shine of that clothes brush caught her eye Kathy was reminded of just how real it was about to feel and another shiver would shoot through her belly. As she positioned herself in the shadowy corner, her face up close to the fading wallpaper, a shred of resistance whispered that this was undignified and that she should refuse to be treated like a misbehaving child. Who did this yank think he was? But the desire to submit – to experience a true punishment at the hands of the man she could now admit (even if only to herself) that she loved – was stronger. She pushed that resistance away at the same moment as she obediently clasped her hands behind her back.
It is a curious thing, to stand naked in the corner of your bedroom while a man sits on your bed, watching you. Kathy’s body responded by somehow moving the location of her heart beat to that place between her legs. Each pulse and throb made her hotter and hotter there until she feared she might whimper, and not out of fear or contrition.
- The Soldier's Girl