"Why do you enjoy spanking so much?"
As I turned the car onto Queen Street, my beautiful and delicious friend
Morgan asked me a question that immediately had my penis, pressed against my thigh in my tight Lee's, swelling.
Spanking. Oh baby.
"God," I said, smiling, palming the wheel. "Just hearing you ask me that is getting me hard."
She blinked, surprised, and smirked. "Really?" I looked at her and nodded mischievously.
Every time we get together for one of our lunch dates, the thought of having Morgan draped over my lap again, on my bed or on the futon in the den, comes to mind. At this point, we've been together socially more often than sexually, and while she's somewhat off-limits at the moment, I still enjoy tawdry memories. Gently tugging her panties down her thighs, revealing her delicious backside. I want to spank her again. Often.
Mmm.
While there is debate about whether or not
power-exchange fantasies in themselves consist of a
paraphiliac mental disorder, researchers often agree that many sexual fantasies begin during childhood. I find it curious that often these early childhood-based fantasies frequently seem to have more to do with power structures than genitalia. Could it be that, in not necessarily comprehending the details about penises and vulvae, but in comprehending the differences between submissive and dominant social roles, do very young humans thereby sexualize the environments they are most familiar with? Do heinies stimulate even before wee-wees and woo-woos?
They certainly did with me. Speaking from my own sexual development as a child, I remember finding behinds fascinating even before I completely comprehended what dicks and pussies were all about. I remember innocent kiddie games of "House" that somehow included "Nap Time," which somehow included some amount of sensual cuddling with Elizabeth the babysitter. Over time, this would become kiddie games of "Doctor," especially with a childhood friend (whose nickname really was), Binky. I remember one session of "Doctor" where, in our purely childhood-consensual, positive-and-healthy body-discovering explorations, she bared her behind to me for an "examination." It was the first time I had seen a girl's underwear, a girl's bum, more, and it struck me like a thunderbolt. Sure, there were genitals to be viewed by my plate-sized, healthfully curious eyes... but it was
her heinie that
so enraptured me. The curves,
the curves.
Was it because my kiddie brain wasn't quite comprehending "labial mound" yet, but oh how I comprehended "behind"?
Not long after those experiences is probably when my childlike sexual imagination went into gear, and I remember having the most bizarre and imaginative fantasies that usually involved observing girls in their panties. Panties started to excite the hell out of me, and long before I had ever heard of
Playboy my barely pubescent self was having heart palpatations over the women's underwear pages of the
J.C. Penney's catalog. Ah, innocence.
What I would have given in those days if the
Super X-Ray Specs advertised in the back of
Spiderman and
Thor comics were really true. I bet almost every boy who could read has had the same damned thought.
You can
see them in their panties...
Not entirely unlike
Jade Chan hentai (which I only recently discovered), among my more intense proto-spanking childhood fantasies involved conveyor belt devices. Big, ornate conveyor belt devices. Conveyor belt devices where sniffling, submitting girls would be "forced" to endure having their pants lowered, followed by the panties, and then yielding to swats and "Doctor"-like "examinations." Pinches. Measurements. Thermometers. Baby powdering.
Looking back on this as an adult, I think it shows a lot of sexual imagination, but I also think these were the foundations for some of my Topspace. These fantasies were all about power, and all about a boyish passion for the feminine derriere. To this day, while I'm adept at the use of crops and chains and floggers and whips and clamps and other delicious toys of torment... my favourite kinky niche remains good ol' fashioned
OTK play. I needs to see the butt.
When I bounced the clubs, when I attended the playparties, sometimes I felt just slightly apart from my leather colleagues. Most of my friends were interested in glorious bondage techniques or developments in electro-stimulation play, or something else that was very esoteric. I enjoyed these things also, but sometimes it seemed like the simple pleasures of hoisting a willing, skirt-clad tart over my knee seemed, well, vanilla by comparison.
...That is, until the night Diva and me attended a private party where our play was the centre of attention, with her on all fours on an ornate Oriental rug, our hosts and their guests seated on chairs surrounding us, as I spanked and cropped her bare bottom hot and red and angry.
I have daydreams of organizing a private spanking club, hosting private playparties for OTK enthusiasts. I've wanted to do this with a kinky partner at my side (and over my knee), but I may even try on my own.
Discovering my sexuality, I found asses and anuses captivating long before other elements of a woman's sexybits ever sparked in my libido. Saying I'm an "ass man" is too general... it's virtually the root of my lust, and I think it's because it grips me somewhere deep in my medulla where only the oldest, most primal of my sexual awarenesses remain.
So part of the reason why I love to spank is the sheer devotion my sex has for a beautiful woman's behind. I've
written before about how I see learning a woman's anus is to learn the most intimate part of her, and God knows I adore sexual intimacy. I could devote hours to sensually snaking myself around, upon, with my partner's bum, raining it with nibbly kisses and bites and explorations with warm, relaxed, friendly hands. To begin gently spanking my partner's bottom is for me to become entranced with the movement of her muscles and skin, the way her flesh yields and ripples and returns, to enjoy the gradual glow on her dermis, to hold her as she sighs and breathes and gasps. The curves,
the curves.
When she's across my lap, I love the feel of her ribcage trapped between my bicep and my chest as I bend forward, my face even closer to her derriere, clutching her firmly as my free hand rains delicious torment to her. I love the feel of her imbalance as her toes strain for the floor, her hands grip the legs of the wooden chair we're upon. I love the yelps and the bleats and the sharp intakes of breath. I love feeling her slick wetness between her thighs after she's been given a good reddening, and then the blushing on her face and in her eyes as I bring moist webs of her excitement across her ashamed cheeks, ashamed for being so excited from being so punished. And so another part of it is the naked domination, the act of controlling, the administering of consensual wrath, escorting her through her own sensual shadows.
And then there's the element that's simply playful fun, in that grown-up version of cowboys-and-indians kind of way. The dress-up that comes with games like Student And University Professor, or Rush Pledge And Frathouse, or Ale Wench And Highwayman (an especially fun game for larger and buxom partners), Inefficient Secretary, and more. The role-play. The power of masks. Cosplay.
I love it when my partner feels so safe that she completely lets go and drifts into her own sexually submissive bliss, her body becoming relaxed and accepting of her fate as my toy, my pet, my tenderest source of care and admonition. I smile deep into my sexual spirit when her own lust sifts free, when her hips begin raising her lovely ass in higher poise, wanting to be spanked, needing to be spanked, deserving to be spanked. When her need to satisfy my desire becomes such a hunger, when her ass has reached its limit for punishment to the point where it's dropping to her knees to passionately, wetly suck my thick cock that becomes a craving.
How I love to catch my breath as I tower over her, her as she kneels crumpled and soaked on the floor, her fiery-red ass shaking as her beautiful mouth thanks me for delivering the attention that she's been longing for. I like to have her hold her own ass at such moments, to feel the burning heat that sheds itself from her tender body, as my cock gently taps moist hardness on her beautiful, sexy, worshipful, slutty face.
Or turning her over on her belly, raising that raging behind into the air and taking her. Fucking her hard, feeling that fire against my own thighs as my cock searches and swells deeply inside her. To give her another reason to scream my name into a pillow, or against a wall, or across a kitchen table, or upon the dripping tile in the shower, or into the blackness of the starlit woods
with the dry leaves between our toes and not another living human soul for miles in every direction.
Yes.
Spanking Shayne was always fun, and I didn't get to do it nearly enough, or often enough with her
in her schoolgirl uniform, or simply nearly as vigorously as I wanted to. The Grrl realy liked a solid spanking, especially when she
felt my hard cock against her as she lay splayed across my lap. And then, long before any of these excellent ladies, my first love, Diva, of whom I have yet to write
anything of substance, enjoyed spanking to the full.
I may not have been Diva's first spanker, but I'm confident that in what was our seven-year relationship, I was among her most memorable. I escorted Diva into a dimension of spanking so intimate that she wouldn't be fully, wholly complete with the end of a session until she was shaking and in tears, her ass devilishly red, her labia puffy and glowing with excitement. I spanked Diva in private, before audiences of masturbating men and women in BDSM clubs and in private parties. When our relationship ended, she was posting fetish networking sites for a new partner that could fulfill her need for "an attitude adjustment." Without spitefulness, sometimes like to think she never quite found again what she lost.
Given the opportunity, there are some sexblogging friends whom
I would love to introduce to a view of the floor as they dangled across my lap. The deliciously alluring
Coy Pink. The vivacious
Swingerwife. The extraordinary and breathtaking
Ms. Inconspicuous. The electric, sensual sexblog matriarch
Catalina Loves. Would you ladies care to come into my parlour? I have something special for you.
The sensuality. The beauty of her lower body. The grace of her form. The intimate and raw discovery. The curves. The taking. The imaginative games. The childhood excitement. The power. These are reasons why I like to spank.
"It's like fucking," I said to Morgan, my hands leaving the wheel long enough to grip the air, full-palmed and open-fingered, as if I would grip her lovely hips. "It's a taking, something passionate." The act of fucking, to fuck a woman, to take a woman, to hold her firmly and tug her toward you as your swelling, twitching, living hardness is slipping past and through her tender, wet flesh and into her tight, yearning core of femininity. To fuck, to be fucking, to fuck her good.
After responding to her question, there was the briefest pause as I turned the car onto Bloor Street. It was snowing. Morgan smiled and nodded as she digested my answer.
"Mmm. Yeah," she finally said. "And getting fucked is pretty awesome too."
Rogue looks up, sees you strolling in, and sets down the tea he's been sipping from his nifty pottery mug.
