First Spankings: True spanking initiations

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asking for a spanking Bedroom Submission Callipygous Commentary Dressed For Spanking erotic spanking F/M paddling Flashing foolishness Highly Spankable lingerie Love Our Lurkers Day Memories Men in Panties Paddles paddling panties Political Commentary Potpourri Schoolgirl paddlings school paddlings spanked in panties spanking spanking bench Spanking Parties Stories switching Uncategorized White Panties wtf Archives Let me clarify something: I'm not "into" spanking the way you might be "into" Celine Dion or “The Bourne Identity.” Spanking is a part of my psyche, an essential element of my sexuality. It's not like slavering over cheerleaders, or fantasizing about sex on the beach at sunset. When I was a kid I used to look up the word "spanking" in the dictionary, and I got a visceral thrill when I saw a spanking scene on “Little House on the Prairie” or “I Love Lucy.”

You showed me Miss Roberts' business card. The card you waved at me, she ceased using over a year ago, when you were seventeen." The most common comment these men make on a picture of a woman being spanked, it that they would make her bottom much redder. The second place comment is that her panties need to come down for the spanking to be effective. Both comments stem from viewing spankings as a punishment. OBB readers well know that we don’t spank for any reason other than it turns us on. So when any element of punishment is introduced we may not be interested. Miss Roberts reported newfound respect for Carly. Her attitude had been admirable. "You're incredible, Anya," she said. "You must send me your bill." That night, as I was lying down and getting ready to sleep, Kate walked into my room and sat on my bed. She said to me: “You’ve heard me tell Denise and Kristie that I spank them because I love them, haven’t you?” I nodded. “Well, now you know that I love you too.” She kissed me on the cheek.Mrs.Weltwaay put the detention slips into envelopes at the end of the school day. Then with a stern face told them to go home.

Fast forward a few years, and a few sexually un-fulfilling relationships, to Charles, the first guy who made me feel like there wasn’t anything wrong or un-feminist about wanting to be spanked. I’d known Charles for years, so he knew about my feminist activism and the writing I do about women’s issues. Once Charles learned about my dom/sub fetish, he knew—and respected—how conflicted I felt. Charles wanted to spank a woman as badly as I wanted to be spanked, and that was what mattered to him. Plus, he’d struggled with apathetic partners, as I had, and he owned a paddle! Alas, Charles also had a girlfriend. There was more patting and squeezing of my bottom cheeks, like they were kneading bread, and lots of cat-calls, mostly from the women. Charlotte, by contrast, had got a lot of male attention. Perhaps because she was much older, perhaps because of her ‘donation’ (I realised later that Leanne had basically ‘bought’ me), I allowed myself to be undressed and soon I was playfully put across her knee, my bare bottom in the air. Almost a minute passed, but it felt longer. Karen looked at her beautiful Mummy, the rounded body looked so cosy and even at this moment strangely comforting, her Mummy bear almost. She saw her Mummy looking at her bush, her hips, she could almost read the thoughts in her head…”My my, my little girl is a girl no more.” Mummy was a perfect product of the 1950’s. A dutiful housewife who had kept an excellent house since the day she married. Sadly her husband was no longer around, but stoically, with a stiff upper lip and a gallon of fortitude, she had carried on running the house, her home, with pride.Peggy and Donald told me that they’d spanked all their kids growing up, and that they’d all turned out fine. They were amazed that my parents didn’t spank me, and surprised that we didn’t have to take our trousers down for the cane at school. In the Grand Rapids Bible Belt, it was pants down for a spanking, whether at home or at school. Karen got out and some involuntary action told her to stand to attention. Anything good right now, might stop the severity of what was to come. Kirsten and I gelled, because I was also adopted. However, we both were given the ‘rod of correction’ for our trouble. More of that another time.

In my days of spanking women, other than Bacall, I tried to figure which would best work on her mind. My custom was to have her stand in front of me while I decided if I would take her panties down or I would have her do it. It’s all part of the delicious anticipation and excitement of a spanking.

When I got within arm’s reach of Kate, she pulled me across her lap and began spanking me with her hand, even harder and faster than she had spanked the girls. I am sure that I got the most spanks of any of us that day. Karen liked the strange feeling she felt (in a certain in a certain intimate area) at being exposed. Swift rattan sliced into her tender thighs, eviscerating her confident preparation. She cried out as white hot pain agonized her skin, wriggling her hips. You could say I was in denial about my spanking fetish. It wasn’t that I thought slapping booty was abuse, nor was my starched WASP upbringing to blame. No, the problem was my feminist sensibilities. I realize now that the term “feminism” is vague and means different things for different people, but when I was younger, I assumed there was a way a feminist should think and act. So, even though I liked the feeling of getting spanked, I felt conflicted about giving up my physical power, thinking spanking wasn’t something an independent and opinionated woman should enjoy. Just how, I fretted, could a partner take me seriously as a thinker, a doer, and a creator when I wanted to be submissive to him? What if people think I’m weird or screwed up? Mummy looked into the mirror, at this distance it was like a well framed photo, her on the bed, her shapely daughter with her upturned rump fine and round, catching the light. She looked at herself, doing what a good loving Mummy should do…her duty.