Red Bottomed Harlot Part Duex

Recently I had a conversation with my boyfriend where I admitted what must be my most ridiculous spanko related thought. I recalled a time when I was sitting in a bookstore and someone asked me about the area – directions, fun things to do, etc. I helped him, but then he asked me if I wanted to join him. I declined, and to this day I remember a specific regret. What if I could’ve gotten him to spank me?

I had a similar thought process when I was in college – before classes even started. I was at a party for orientation week, discussing my classes. A classmate offered to lend me books from his room, and again, I declined. I have at least a dozen more experiences like these – I could write a book called The Spankings That Never Were. Honestly, I think my brain just assigned spankings with potential casual sex?

This should go without saying, but all this was before I entered the spanking scene. At the time of the first ‘would be’ incident, I’d yet to have sex. Or a general grip on reality. And I realize how crazy it sounds when I say it out loud, I do. My boyfriend went on to say that he was glad that this did not actually happen, because it’s not safe to go off with strangers* etc.

There is no reason why a complete stranger I met in a bookstore would spank me. But when you’re young and you have all these “weird” desires and fantasies that won’t go away, you start to get desperate.

When I first started attending parties, I had a ‘never say no’ attitude. I think this was in part, due to socialization (women tend to struggle more with saying no) but more because I was afraid I wouldn’t have the chance again. After all, I’d wanted it so badly, so who was I to turn that down?

In my early scene days, I expressed to a friend that I wish I got spanked everyday. She said that it wouldn’t be as special if it happened daily, and I conceded to her point.

After all, I was familiar with the feelings of waiting for a party to come up: flirting in the way that only spankos can, the anticipation of getting what you want and simultaneously fearing it. These sensations were so new to me. All your life, you will learn/hear/read about love and heartbreak and jitters. But you don’t learn about platonic romance and dates that are kinda hookups but often don’t involve sex.

That’s something the scene has granted me that I couldn’t get anywhere else. This past weekend, I explained to my boyfriend how I didn’t have a crush on a popular top friend of mine, but that I was attracted to them, and how I differentiate from the two. I can have a play crush on someone but no romantic interest in them (I’ve had a few of these).**

It’s exciting that seven years later, I’m still figuring out the best way to verbalize these situations. Not just relationships, but other interactions – I’m still looking for the best words to turn people down. To say what I need, what I don’t want.

{Today if a stranger approached me in a bookstore asking to hang out, I would still say no. A) Being curled up in a bookstore is underrated and B) I’m not into wandering off with strangers outside of spanking parties.}

And the novelty hasn’t worn off. I don’t have debilitating anxiety before parties anymore, but that’s a plus. I spend more time socializing sitting or standing than across someone’s knee. The platonic connections that I build are just as important to me, because I learned how impactful community can be.

Even when I was lucky enough to get my otherwise vanilla partners to spank me, I hadn’t really told anyone about my fetish. It’s one thing to like a few swats during or before sex and it’s a completely other to enjoy the ritual of spanking, to find yourself thinking about it nonstop. So when I finally met up with someone, I thought it was going to be this private, occasional thing. That I would be someone else here.

But when you find a group of people that share your secret, it’s incredibly difficult to assume a new identity. The weird thing you’ve been trying to hide is the same as everyone else there. And once you’re in, it’s harder to stay away.

These days, if a new person asked me for advice, I would tell them to not to be afraid to say no. I don’t have scene regret – every experience has been meaningful in that I’ve had the opportunity to share a part of myself that once terrified me. However, it’s much better when it’s what you really want – this one person will not be your last chance, so if they aren’t working for you, you don’t have to force it. This thing we do comes with growing pains, but with the right people, nothing feels forced. You realize this is where you needed to be all along.

*I didn’t point out that this is technically what I did with him

**i will 100 percent expand on this on a later date because I’ve put THOUGHT into this, more than what is probably even necessary.

Six years ago, if you’d ask me what the most important of my fetish was, Id probably say “spanking. Duh.” Nowadays I’m thinking about autonomy.

When I did that thing that so many of us do where I looked up words in the dictionary, I would look up “punishment”. I associated punishment with spanking, obviously, but I’ve come to understand that punishment is as much of a fetish for me as spanking is. There’s a great deal of crossover between the two. I think the distinction is important because there’s spankos that don’t enjoy the punishment element of it, but also aren’t interested in the disciplinary aspect of spanking.

I enjoy both the emotions I get from being spanked just because as well as scolded/corrected. There’s a different energy behind each – I think spanking just for the sake of it is definitely more social – so something you’d do at a party, for instance. I think this also leaves room for more explicitly erotic situations.

Both satisfy different elements of my fetish, but punishment spankings are special because they’re more all encompassing. There’s an inevitable push/pull that comes with punishment, because I never want to really be in trouble, to actually disappoint someone – and it feels terrible in the moment, but accountability tastes so good when you don’t have a choice.

Thankfully, I’ve never been one of those people that are “too good” to get punished* but still have a fetish. But I understand the craving the headspace of a punishment when you haven’t done anything warranting one. That’s where discipline comes in.

I realize there’s some indulgence in separating discipline and punishment, but I also see punishment as something you receive, whereas discipline is something you have. This is where gentle reminders come in. “Make sure you’re behaved with your friends today. Or else.” Or the “just because” spankings that feel intense. And maintenance spankings, my personal favorite.

There’s also what people call a ‘reset’ which is basically a maintenance spanking, but more intense. Resets are more of a response to consistent subpar behavior. (i.e., frequently breaking rules, falling off track with goals, general carelessness). I’d say they’re pretty effective – any reset I ever had made me want to be much better behaved. Like, ‘just start a new identity altogether, perhaps get a new fetish’, behaved.

Intensity plays a big part in it, and I think this stems from the belief that things must get worse before they can get better. In any other context, a lot of people might disagree – but if I told you that you could press a button and give yourself a recharge, wouldn’t you do it?

Over the holidays my daddy introduced a concept where every morning, while we were together, I got paddled. Nothing too crazy. Five swats with a thin, wooden paddle. But I struggled. There wasn’t any warm up, and he wasn’t gentle. I cried at least twice. But I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it didn’t feel that way in the moment. I find great comfort in the concept that I am exact where I should be, as I should be. And if I am not, then someone with the authority to do so ( my daddy, in this case) will rectify the situation by maintaining my behavior.

Even when I didn’t want the spankings, I took them because I needed to curl up in him and feel taken care of, and small, and peaceful.

The above picture is from a few weeks ago. One of my very good friends, G, was kind enough to give me a bedtime spanking. I asked for a nice one – I occasionally find joy in asking for a spanking. A lot of times it isn’t of my own fruition but even even you decide on your own there’s something humbling. Please hurt me. Please give me this thing I need that I have trouble expressing verbally. Take care of me.

I felt very casual, as my friend was a few feet away from me, being spanked much harder. She’d been naughty throughout the day; more in overall behavior rather than attitude. It was consistent enough to make me nervous for her, but I suspected she was on track to getting what she desired and deserved – so who was I to judge?

I was squirming at the hand, but then she picked up the hairbrush. Domestic implements feel so matter of fact – the accessibility, the idea that anyone can have one – it’s a reminder that no matter what, you will be spanked if needed. It’s a remarkable juxtaposition between familiar and terrifying.

As I write this, I still have some faint bruises from this weekend. I was visiting daddy, and he paddled me each morning. Even the day I got in trouble, he suggested skipping the maintenance and I didn’t want to. Despite his jokes to the contrary, the world would function all the same if he didn’t paddle me in the morning. But I needed it. Even if he didn’t make it easier for me, I needed the feeling of being put in my place. And I don’t mean that as being less than, I mean I needed this to help me be the best version of myself – resilient, grounded, confident, blissful – everything I feel when I allow myself to submit.

*yes, these people do exist. I’m just as appalled as you are.

I’ve had this fetish for as long as I can remember. There was a time period when I tried to pretend it was just a phase – I gave myself a period during which I was “allowed” to obsess over it, and that was it. I tried to tame it – like I would have two days where I read as many stories as I could, and I would self spank, and find videos – but after that I was cut off. Never again, and no one would ever know.

If you’ve experienced these moments, you know they don’t go away after that “one last time”. (Or maybe you have more willpower than I do). Maybe you can distance yourself for a while, but the urge comes back. I decided to let myself explore.

I remember finding tumblr pages and other blogs centered around spanking. Most of my earliest discoveries were stories (including fan fiction). But I’d been craving the firsthand experience, and I wanted an opportunity to share mine.

If I had a motto, it’d be something like “hesitate, reconsider, then do it anyway”…Or maybe “let life be an adventure”. (I’m not sure which one rolls of the tongue better.) Either way, I realized I couldn’t do anything halfway so when I joined the scene, I kinda went in headfirst. I played with the first person I met, went to a national party within four months, and made friendships that are still important to me now.

When I got more involved with Cheeky and when Tumblr banned adult content, I found myself writing less. And it wasn’t that I didn’t have stories to tell, or things to say. If anything, there was more on my mind. Some people might say that tumblr wasn’t an ideal blogging platform but there aren’t many places where you can connect with people, share, and interact with content as seamlessly.

But I didn’t come here to mourn, I came here to share stories and experiences, to vent. I miss talking about kink, about romance, about adventures. I think a lot about that line about being exactly where you should be. I wonder if I would be where I am, if I’d taken a different turn. Would I still be deleting my browsing history, promising myself ‘never again’? Would every orgasm be followed up with shame*?

I have no idea, and in some ways I think I’m better off not knowing. I fell down the rabbit hole seven years ago and I have no intention of getting back out.

*the not fun kind