Thoughts on My First Spanking

I waited almost 15 years for my first grown-up spanking.

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I’ve been swatted at before. I once even worked up the nerve to request a spanking, but because I have only dated vanilla men, it never went further than a light-hearted smack or two. Still, I imagined I might like it.

Why ever would I want to be spanked?

I don’t know when I stopped associating spankings with my mother, but I guess it was in adulthood. I never liked those spankings. The truth is, those spankings were my first foray into power exchange, even if unpleasant. Around the age of 9, I convinced myself that my mother must spank us so much because she enjoyed it. Whether this had any truth to it or not, I understood that saying so was my best chance at hurting her back when she hurt me. This became a demonstration of sorts. Anytime she spanked us, I would  refuse to cry out or show that I was in pain. Instead, I would say to my sister when it was her turn, “Don’t let her see you cry. She enjoys it too much!” (Is that messed up?)

As a teenager, I heard jokes make about spankings, but it wasn’t until I saw Secretary (2002), that I imagined the potential. The film showed a D/s dynamic between a boss and his secretary, and although I have some issues with the film and its assumption that both characters must be unstable to have this kink, it’s still a great story.

Plus, it’s full of D/s tension and relatable kink-isolation angst. And scenes like this:

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Sweet sixteen (or something) and never been spanked

I waited almost 15 years for my first grown-up spanking. And then, at my local munch just the other week, I met someone.

I did not know then that a week later, this man would be spanking me. I did know right away that he was my “type.” Unfortunately, when a man looks like my type (clean cut, professional, conservative-ish), this does not usually bode well (meaning these guys are always vanilla!). But you see, that is the benefit of meeting someone at a munch: at least you know that you have that shared interest!

We kept chatting after the munch. Nothing crazy; we had some sodas and appetizers and then walked around the city for hours, just talking. A few days later, he asked me to have dinner with him (which I did). We’ve been chatting and emailing and seeing a lot of each other since… which is how we found ourselves, predictably, in bed.

 Thoughts on My First Spanking

To be clear, this was not a Secretary-esque spanking, but a fully-consensual sexual spanking. He’s a gentleman, so he was mindful about the level of intensity… but I’ll tell you, there was no point at which it was too intense or painful. In fact, I wouldn’t use the word painful at all, or even uncomfortable.

I LOVED it.

It made me feel present, but more deeply present than I am usually able to be during sex. Every smack was electric and brought me right into my body. I felt my entire body humming at a higher frequency and every strike sent these waves coursing through me. I didn’t want him to stop and I was almost in a trance. It was wild. When he did stop, I collapsed for a couple minutes because my thighs were twitching and I felt overwhelmed… but in a really good way!

The verdict:

More spankings, please!

Also, this guy is great. It might be the oxytocin talking, but I’m smitten.

 

Kink and Self-Acceptance

I’ve been a sub in the making for as long as I can remember.

I started searching for some blogs on the topic of kink and submission. I found a post from a blog called The Story of A called Submission isn’t Just a Sex Thing. It’s a Part of Me.

The author writes about her childhood fantasies:

“I remember spending large amounts of time in the evenings, especially during and after baths, imagining kidnapping scenes, pretending that my ravishers were watching me, taunting me. I offered deals, I pleaded, I cajoled… but nothing would make them waver from their goal—which was usually unimportant anyway. The only thing that mattered was that they held me, and wanted to keep me.”  -Ani

Can I just tell you how much I identified with this post?

It was a huge relief, actually.

I have similar memories from being a child. I also started writing stories around age 10, stories that always featured an innocent girl and a far more experienced and not always benign man. I swear the first sexy short scene I ever wrote was about a girl basically being molested or at least assaulted. There was definitely a consent issue! Did I mention I was 1o years old when I wrote it and then tore the paper to shreds over the trash can in shame?

I’ve been a sub in the making for as long as I can remember.

I always knew I was a weirdo. While all my girlfriends were crushing on JTT, I had built an altar in my bedroom to Jeff Goldblum.

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I had photos of him that I tore out of magazines; I even had his action figure from Independence Day. I fantasized about this tall, brilliant, Jewish man taking advantage of me in the lab while I protested…maybe he’s be angry with me because I inoculated the wrong petri dish, it doesn’t really matter. The fact is, to my 15 year old mind, he represented intelligence, influence, and power; he was 30 years my senior, and he made me hotter than any boy my age.

I have attempted to maintain a sense of humor about my peculiar turn-ons.

I’ve resorted to making jokes to friends about silly ol’ me and my fetish for educated, ornery, Jewish men, for example. When I had to call a friend one night to ask her to pick me up because my drunk boyfriend was texting that he was on his way to my house to kill me, I joked about it. Typical, eh? The nice ones bore me and the hot ones kill me! har-har! But the humor concealed a deep sense of shame.

What is wrong with me?

Why am I only attracted to men who abuse me? I have wondered if I was codependent, just plain dependent, neurotic, or just plain fucked up.

“I can’t not be kinky. I have the ability to have vanilla sex, sure, but I’d really rather not.”  -Ani

I have dated some very nice men. A musician, an attorney, a surgeon, even a state senator, and each of them super sweet and smart! Typically, I dated these men immediately after the less-nice ones, when I was feeling very ashamed of myself and determined to make ‘better life-choices.’ The fact that these men were so nice made it that much worse when I subsequently ended (or sabotaged) each of those relationships because I got bored.

The less-nice guys? At least they didn’t bore me…

The first wasn’t anything special, really. He was just 10 years older than me and he bossed me around a lot. And I liked it. He told me when to blow him and how to blow him, he’d grab me and push me over the bathroom counter to make me watch him fuck me from behind, he’d make me say I liked it… I loved it.

The one who wanted to kill me? He was not that special, either. He was just a mean drunk who got rough when he drank, which was often. It worked for me until it didn’t.

I settled for abusive men instead of looking for a Dominant man.

Because of my shame, I wasn’t willing to admit what I wanted or to look for it. Instead, I subconsciously sought out the traits that I associated with my fantasies. I saw sex appeal where there should have been red flags.

Because of my shame, I didn’t even Google my kink or seek out the community that was waiting there the whole time.

Because of my shame, I didn’t have any guidance about how to look for and recognize a safe or sane Dominant. Instead, I subjected myself to real verbal and emotional abuse and threats of harm from a man who had no interest in my safety.

I love the post from The Story of A.  Each time I read a story like this, I feel less alone and less ashamed. And it is so important to throw off that shame, because it only hurts me.

“When someone asks me how I got into kink, I simply say that I’m wired that way. I have known no other way to live.”  -Ani

 

Acceptance: A Gift from My Local Munch

I went to my first munch last year, after a brief fling with a vanilla guy who tried his best not to look scared when I told him about the things I fantasized about.

I went to a munch last night.

It was my second such event, the last being about nine months ago. A year ago, I had never heard of such a thing. In case you, too, do not know what a munch is, let me tell you.

A ‘munch’ is a gathering of kinky folks just like you.

A munch is a get-together in a public place (usually, though some can be more private) to mingle and chat just like regular people… because they are regular people.

If you have never gone to a munch, I recommend at least trying a couple different ones. I hear they can be quite different, and the experiences vary quite a bit. Some men report that they don’t have quite the same welcoming experiences as women (and I can imagine that). But speaking as a woman, going to a munch is a great way to meet kinky people in a non-threatening setting in a safe, public gathering.

Last year, after a brief fling with a vanilla guy who tried his best not to look scared when I told him about the things I fantasized about, I sought out some kinky support. At the bidding of fellow Redditors, I joined Fetlife with a barely-there profile to evade the creepers, and I scouted out the local events. There were at least three local groups within a 30-minute drive of my home, and one was scheduled for the following afternoon at a popular bar.

I walked into my first munch with my hands literally shaking. I had emailed the group leader before I arrived, to ask her to say hello, and she approached me immediately. My nerves were put to rest almost immediately because everyone looked so normal (what was I expecting?!) and no one creeped on me. In fact, after mentioning that I am a nurse, I was introduced to at least two other RNs in attendance, and I spend the evening chatting away to these like-minded women who were able to make me feel understood and accepted!

I walked into my second munch last night with excitement.

I have yet another failed vanilla relationship under my belt, but I have also gained something in this time; I understand more about my desires. After years of stifling my thoughts, of wondering what is wrong with me, I have come to believe that the sensory experiences I desire serve some purpose for me and in that way, they are not ‘dirty’ or ‘bad.’

With this sense of acceptance for my desires came isolation: What are the chances I will ever find someone to accept me and meet my needs? I have been depressed; I have spent a lot of time alone… So I walked into the munch last night looking for a lifeline. I needed a sense of hope.

Acceptance: a gift from my local munch

Yesterday, my kinky community welcomed me back. My nurse friend gave me hugs. I updated them and we chuckled about the difficulties of vanilla relationships. I told my friend there how confused and frustrated I felt when I tried to tell a guy I recently started seeing how to dominate me (‘Can you choke me a little?’  ‘Would you please just pin me down and fuck me?’  ‘Could you do it harder?’). I learned the term ‘topping from the bottom’ last night.  Talking to my munch friends was exactly what I needed.

Everybody is weird.

The problem is that the vanilla guys I date think I am weird for the wrong reasons.  Or they think my kink is hot, but only in a porno way.

They don’t have the same desires. In the rare instances the men I have dated have been willing to explore kink, they are either a. trying to please me and thus not Dominating, or b. they just want to act out porn scenes. In neither case do they have an understanding of Domination/submission or a similar fantasy.

I suppose I need to stop meeting men on eHarmony. ha ha ha *cough*