Copyright 1999 to <pablo@thetreehouse.net> Please respect this copyright. Don't distribute or archive this story in any way except for personal use without explicit permission. No, it's not in the public domain. Ask first, okay? Thanks.

[horizontal rule]

[Posted to soc.sexuality.spanking, 30 January 1999]

[horizontal rule]

[Image of Mr Impossible]Pablo gets spanked
by Pablo

Folks,

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, serenity.

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 later.

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 switch

[horizontal rule]

Back to real-life accounts

Back to the treehouse