Tuesday, 22 December 2009

Spanking Considered

Few things are as stimulating to me as being unceremoniously upended, clothes pulled roughly out of the way, skirt up or trousers and knickers down, across someone’s knee, there to be toyed with, chastised and spanked. A questioning finger, should it probe my pussy while I protest and squirm, will almost always confirm my excitement.

I like the itchy feeling of wool trousers against my bare thighs, the feeling of an arm clamped around my waist or pressing in the small of my back to keep me still. It makes me wet to know how undignified my position is, to know that the pale globes of my buttocks are under the hands and quite inescapably in the sights of the one who is going to mete out a beating on me.

A close second to this scenario involves ceremony and decorum. I might be ordered to strip or assume a certain position. I like my knickers to be taken down slowly. I might have to keep still and be good, or (excitingly) be tied in place so that I can take a harder spanking or beating than I would otherwise be able to keep still for.

I may obey instructions with docility or grudgingly and with argument. Again, the knowledge of my exposure is a powerful intoxicant. The anticipation of blows and pain to come heightens all of the senses. I may have to account for evidence of previous beatings and I enjoy doing so for it all adds to the experience of subjugation.

Spankings, as well as being erotic and shaming, should hurt. At at least some point, they should actually hurt too much, and this pain is cathartic, bringing a sense of relaxation and release.

I have mixed feelings about bruises and whelts. If a loved one has inflicted them, I like them more. If they are very impressive, I am impressed. If they are absent I probably haven’t been spanked hard enough. However, I don’t wear bruises as badges of glory and they are quite inconvenient with respect to my job and my hobbies. But I do so like the feeling of being tender the next day and to notice it as I lean back in my chair.

I was not beaten as a child - just the occasional back-hand of fury when I had goaded a tired parent into losing their temper. In everyday life I don’t submit easily to authority. Spanking is probably a situation in which I symbolically balance this out. I absolutely need to respect the person spanking me.

It helps, therefore, if I believe that they are wiser or cleverer than me, and I am drawn to people who have some kind of self-assurance or power (not bullies, though, and the idea that I am bolstering someone’s sense of self by allowing them to beat me is a huge turn off). I like the idea of a chastiser who is rather a lot older, although age is less important than brains.

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