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[Posted to soc.sexuality.spanking, 30 January
Because of being a moderator of this group,
and for various other reasons, I tend to post a hell of a lot
of technical and meta stuff to SSS, and not - at least lately
- all that much that's squarely on-topic.
Well, this one's about as on-topic as it gets.
:-) It may be a little self-indulgent, though. It's my attempt
to think through a very significant recent experience I had,
by setting it down in words.
Many of you know that over the holidays I
spent some time in the US with Mija. :-) It was a very wonderful
trip, and I had the chance to meet some old friends and a few
new ones. <Waving to them all.> In the middle of everything,
I was spanked for the first time. I've played before,
with Mija and others - experimenting with sensation and having
lots of fun. You might call them 'Spanky
Spanky' spankings. :-)
But this was very different - and deliberately
so. It was the first time there'd been any attempt to create
an environment that felt right for me, and the first time there'd
been any attempt to explore my limits. The first time I'd
been right there at the centre of things. That it turned out
to be such a success is mostly due to the skill and experience
of the person I 'played' with. <Smiling at her.>
Before talking about what we did, and what
it felt like, I ought to say a little about what spanking means
to me as a bottom.
I switch, and I'm still not at all sure how
much of my kink is top/bottom. Mostly that's because my bottoming
urges are still very much unexplored, so I don't know yet what's
there, though I have some idea. I feel bottomish less often
than toppish, but that doesn't mean it's any less powerful when
that's where my mind is.
Maybe the most significant thing about my
kink (this goes for my top side also) is that it isn't remotely
sexual. I don't really have any interest in sex, nor desire
for it. Masturbation fantasies for me are wholly spanking-related,
but that physical eroticisation vanishes in the presence of
the real thing. The parts of my brain that are stimulated by
masturbation driven by spanking fantasies are stimulated in
a very much more powerful and direct way by spanking itself,
without any erotic component. 'Sex', in the sense of genital
contact or stimulation, is for me a poor substitute for spanking.
And spanking - as I've tried to explain it to others - is the
whole symphony, not just the overture.
So what do I get from being spanked? A sense
of love, protection, of letting go, by having control taken
from me by someone I trust to use it wisely, 'for my own good'.
And, as it turns out, an overwhelming sense of calmness, peace,
I'm still exploring, but it seems pretty clear
to me that there's no place in my bottoming side for guilt,
anger, or even teasing. That's not what it's about. It's about
spanking as a physical expression of caring, concern, and yes,
love. What works for me, what that part of me reaches out for,
is a simple, maternal affection and care. I think that could
take the form of a very loving punishment - in the manner of
the punishment of a small child - but punishment doesn't need
to be there. The act seems to work purely as a reinforcement
of the changed balance of control.
That this letting go is so powerful (and difficult!)
for me derives from the fact that at other times control is
so very important. Not control of others; control of my own
body and life. Control of my emotions, too, but more of that
So it's like letting down a heavy weight for
a while. There's a sense of freedom and relief. I don't doubt
that this feeling is very much related to that experienced by
someone who primarily bottoms, especially 24/7, or at least
in a more consistent and regular way. I think I'm becoming more
aware that I've neglected my bottom side somewhat - mostly because
exploring those desires has a scariness that isn't easy for
me to overcome. That's the paradox: it's both hugely attractive
and hugely scary at the same time.
In order to balance out my kink, sooner or
later I do hope to find a way in which the little bottom
Pablo's needs can be met, at the very least understood more
clearly by me. :-)
So what was my first time like? <Smile.>
It was as good as it could possibly have been, I think. And
I'm hugely grateful to the person I played with for that. She
made it very very easy for me, much easier than I had expected
it could be.
We had met before once, and had 'played' [meaning#251]
before, but other than that we know each other from on-line
contact only - though there has been a good deal of that.
I trust her completely, and found it very
easy and natural to let her take command. This is a person for
whom topping seems to come very naturally. :-) We talked for
a while first, and discussed all sorts of issues - much of which
discussion consisted of deciding what wasn't appropriate.
So we gravitated towards a very simple 'scenario' which in retrospect
was ideal for me.
It was pretty late, after quite a long day
for both of us, so the whole thing had the feel of a bedtime
spanking. I changed for bed, washed, already feeling the tenseness
that had come from knowing this was going to happen evaporate
away, just letting myself submit calmly and easily.
Everything was very still and focused. The
day was really over, nothing left to be done, nothing more to
worry about. It was quiet, warm, cosy. She took me into the
bedroom and she sat up on the bed, with the implements nearby.
I saw them, but tried not to think about what they were, what
they were for, just follow.
She asked me to lie across her lap, which
I did. There was no sense of physical discomfort at all, nothing
to draw my attention away from what was about to happen.
I think she spanked me for a short while over
my shorts, but in any event it wasn't long at all before they
came down and she set to work properly, with her hand first,
then I think two other implements: a heavy and thick leather
paddle with holes, and a long narrow rubber paddle.
I have no idea how long it lasted - 20 minutes
perhaps. She said almost nothing. The spanks were very regular
and predicable, coming in waves of increasing intensity, between
which she rubbed and patted very calmingly, reassuringly. So
there was no surprise, nothing jolting or in itself shocking.
Which allowed me to stay with it, to follow the sensations,
to fall deeper and deeper into, well, into something I'm not
sure how to describe.
From the start, my eyes were closed almost
all of the time, and my breathing was slow and deep and calm,
following the spanks like an accompaniment. The more intense
the spanks became, the harder it was to keep that physical control
of myself. But I couldn't help but try. That control, the stoicism,
the wanting to take as much as I can - even when the whole point
of the damn exercise is release :-S - is pretty much
hardwired. The release has got to be earned, because I'm not
going to give it away cheaply. When it comes, it won't be submission
- it'll be breaking.
I honestly hadn't expected to get far at all
into any sort of new or different head-space, but gradually
I did. She spanked me harder and harder, speaking for pretty
much the first time to tease me in what sounded like amusement
and pleasure when I kicked my legs, tensing against the whacks
of the paddle low down on my bottom and thighs. My breathing
became shallower, much more urgent, and I grunted and owwwww-ed
with pretty much every spank, not really being able to help
myself, feeling the control slip away, feeling a much
less stoic me come up to the surface.
She paused, rubbing my back, bottom and legs
one more time, letting me regain a little control, and then
pushed on, harder still. We'd talked beforehand about my desire
for release, but agreed that it was very unlikely to happen
this time - I was sure it wouldn't be possible.
But damn if we didn't get very close. Which
isn't a statement of any sort of regret. The final
wave got harder and harder, I tensed and gasped and struggled
a little, making noises much more childish than I could have
done unless the stoicism had been broken down. My chest shook
with each of the heavy breaths I was still taking.
When she stopped for the last time, leant
over to see my face through a curtain of hair damp with sweat,
she said she thought that I was probably done. I nodded agreement,
feeling both relief and a small twinge of shame with myself
for pulling out before...
Before what? Before I broke? Before I cried,
maybe. She said later that she'd felt I was close to that and
pulled back at the last. And I think she was right about that.
That last push we can save until next time, because we achieved
so much more than I'd expected. I didn't realise right
away how far we'd gone.
She helped me up, and we sat there on the
bed together. I was shakier than I'd convinced myself. My chest
still shook with each breath, and I absolutely, positively could
not stop taking the huge breaths that I'd maintained throughout
the spanking. I just couldn't. I just sat there, dazed, giggling
occasionally to myself, shaking my head in wonderment at this
amazing new feeling.
She gave me a drink: apple juice. I sipped
it slowly from the bottle, my brain processing everything that
had happened, my body humming like a tuning fork. She sat, watching
me, just being there for me. After a short while she held me
a little, and a new wave of emotion washed over me. Just don't
ask me what emotion: it was all of them; all
of the good ones, anyway. Just pure emotion.
I felt no desire to come down from this, and
I couldn't have if I'd wanted to. I just wanted to savour the
moment, to taste each last drop of it. I felt so calm, peaceful,
happy. So mellow and serene. It lasted and lasted.
And then, for some reason, sitting there,
maybe 10 minutes after the spanking had finished, I felt tears
welling up. And then, the control instinct reasserted
itself, and I pushed them down. Next time I hope I won't. I
want to be able to cry like that: just because. I don't believe
I've cried properly - without restraint, without the ability
to restrain myself - since I was about 8 or 9. (Though my angel
Mija may be having a positive effect on me in this respect.
I've cried on leaving her at the airport, and seeing Titanic
in a crowded cinema the night it opened in Britain made me cry
more than I'm comfortable admitting :-). Is crying the spankee's
orgasm? Maybe. The idea has a nice aptness.
I didn't look at the marks until quite a while
later, and they were very vivid. I very much like being
marked - which is a good thing because I mark very easily. There
were large deep red patches across most of the surface of each
cheek, with vivid purple bruises across the centre and underside.
It didn't hurt; just felt numb and warm. I do regret
that I don't feel spankings afterwards as much as I might; almost
immediately after this pretty hard spanking there was no real
discomfort. It did feel awfully good, though :-). And I was
sorry to see the marks fade when they eventually did.
So. I didn't get there, but for the
first time in my life I really do know that there is a there
to get to. And I know I will get there, sooner or later.
That's a wonderful thing. For that day, for that gift, A. has
my gratitude and love.
Pablo - who now knows for sure that he's a
to real-life accounts
to the treehouse