Sunday, May 21, 2006
My Inauguration As A Spanker
My choice to discuss my catagorization as a "switch" in the last journal entry was not random. As I have already discussed the first time that I had my backside properly blistered, if I am indeed a "switch," then there must have been an initial time for me to me to be wielding the implement of punishment. Indeed, allow me to relate such an event.
It was late in my sophomore year in college. I had discovered that, if I actually addressed a women (as opposed to a typical college male mating call such as "Hey BAY-BEEEEE!"), they would speak to me. If I was nice enough to them, I could actually find someone who would wanted to spend time with me. One young lady whom I was spending plenty of quality time with (some of it with our clothes on) was named Suzy.
The story is really not an unusual one, except for the spanking part. We'd been dating for about half of the semester. We were hanging around in her dorm room. We were alone, since her roommates had all chosen this weekend to visit their respective home towns. It was Saturday night and we were bored. There was nothing good on TV (this was before the age where there was cable in every room, so we only had a few crappy channels to choose from, rather than 100 crappy channels), all of the movies in town were far from masterpieces, and, since neither of us had surpassed the drinking age, we didn't have any potent potables. We were sitting on her bed, fully clothes, wrestling and tickling, basically just being silly.
All of a sudden, she wiggled over my lap. "Spank me," she said.
I responded just like any other intelligent, sophisticated college student would. "Huh?" I said.
"Spank me," she said with a giggle. Well, I did like this girl and I did want to respond to her every whim. So without further ado, I firmly patted her cute little posterior several times.
"No, you goof," she responded. "I mean really spank me!"
Now my brain and my other behavior-controlling organ about three feet lower were both wrestling with what to do. I figured it wouldn't hurt to get some clarification. Wouldn't hurt me, anyway.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "I mean, it might hurt and...."
"Just spank me, you idiot!" she half-ordered, half-squealed.
"Well, if you insist," I answered. I proceeded to swat her backside several times with considerable force. She squealed and wiggled that fine fanny. "Is that better?"
"That's a good start." That's all I needed to hear. I let loose with my best spanking effort.
She wiggled and giggled and squealed and did other cute stuff. I sent swat after swat onto the seat of her jeans until my hand started to hurt. When I stopped, she giggled some more and let out a soft moan., but she didn't seem at all uncomfortable.
This will never do, I thought. My hand hurts too much. It's time to see if she's really into this, or just being silly.
"Stand up," I ordered, although not too firmly. With a smile on her face, she did so. "Take down your pants, young lady," I said.
She giggled yet some more, and thought for a second. But since we'd removed our trousers (and the rest of our clothes) for each other several times previously, she undid the front, wiggled them down over her buns, and let then fall to the floor. She even went a step further and kicked them off.
Without asking, she resumed her position over my lap. At this point, the racing hormones and blood pounding in my head seemed to make time move at a different speed. I'm not sure how long I stared at her near-perfect posterior. It might have been two seconds, it might have been two hours. She said to me, "Well, what's taking so long?" That was enough o clear my head to a point where I could at least concentrate on the task at hand.
This was the early eighties, so thong panties weren't yet in vogue, but she was wearing cute little pink satin undies. I took it upon myself to rain a considerable number blows upon those panties. The squealing and wiggling resumed but she made no effort to get away.
Now, I'm sure that many of you are think that we weren't very responsible. We didn't discuss what we were doing beforehand. I didn't ask her what she wanted or what her limits were. We didn't even agree on a safe word. I just smacked her butt repeatedly. While it is always a good idea to make sure everyone's expectations are the same, college-age hormonal overload can often blow logical thinking right the fuck out the door. And besides, this is my story!
After a goodly nunber of whacks, I stopped to allow both of us to catch our breath. Then I adjusted her panties so that they were gathered between her two lovely butt cheeks, leaving them unprotected, and continued my work. Shortly thereafter, the panties came down, then off altogether. I can safely say that, up to this point in my life, this was the happiest and most excited I had ever been.
So there we are, a wonderfully cute young lady, half-naked, laying across my lap, her bare booty turning the perfect shade of red under my hand, while she giggled, moaned, and cooed. And then we heard someone knocking on the goddamn door!
"Fuck!" we both said in unison. Quickly she rolled off of my lap, stood up, and grabbed a sweatshirt to tie around her waist. She scurried to the door (she scurried very well, thank-you). "Who is it?" she shouted at the door.
"It's Beth," the voice on the other side of the door responded. Beth was the ubiquitous Resident Assistant for the dorm floor that Suzy lived on. "I heard some loud noises coming from your room and I wanted to make sure that you were okay."
"Everything is fine," Suzy said. "Sorry for the noise. We were just making popcorn." Suzy was a lousy liar. "We're done now, so there won't be any more noise."
"Well ... okay," said Beth, skeptically. "Just try to keep it down."
"We will." We heard Beth walking away. We both laughed in relief, the kind of conspiratorial chortle where you try not to make any actual sound. The spanking had ended, however.
I won't go into any details as to how we spent the remainder of the evening. Suffice to say that it was quite a while before her pants went back on. I'll leave the rest so that you can use your own imagination and save mine for another story.
That was the only spanking that Suzy and I took part in. At semester's end, we said our farewells and moved on. I'm not sure if she returned to school in the fall or not, as I didn't see her after back at school the following August. It was one of those relationships where we both knew what we wanted, got it, and cordially parted to find new adventures for ourselves. It was best that way. But I occasionally remember Suzy fondly, sort of like the girl with whom you exchanged your first kiss. It is a memory that I will always find, well, Fantastic!
It was late in my sophomore year in college. I had discovered that, if I actually addressed a women (as opposed to a typical college male mating call such as "Hey BAY-BEEEEE!"), they would speak to me. If I was nice enough to them, I could actually find someone who would wanted to spend time with me. One young lady whom I was spending plenty of quality time with (some of it with our clothes on) was named Suzy.
The story is really not an unusual one, except for the spanking part. We'd been dating for about half of the semester. We were hanging around in her dorm room. We were alone, since her roommates had all chosen this weekend to visit their respective home towns. It was Saturday night and we were bored. There was nothing good on TV (this was before the age where there was cable in every room, so we only had a few crappy channels to choose from, rather than 100 crappy channels), all of the movies in town were far from masterpieces, and, since neither of us had surpassed the drinking age, we didn't have any potent potables. We were sitting on her bed, fully clothes, wrestling and tickling, basically just being silly.
All of a sudden, she wiggled over my lap. "Spank me," she said.
I responded just like any other intelligent, sophisticated college student would. "Huh?" I said.
"Spank me," she said with a giggle. Well, I did like this girl and I did want to respond to her every whim. So without further ado, I firmly patted her cute little posterior several times.
"No, you goof," she responded. "I mean really spank me!"
Now my brain and my other behavior-controlling organ about three feet lower were both wrestling with what to do. I figured it wouldn't hurt to get some clarification. Wouldn't hurt me, anyway.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "I mean, it might hurt and...."
"Just spank me, you idiot!" she half-ordered, half-squealed.
"Well, if you insist," I answered. I proceeded to swat her backside several times with considerable force. She squealed and wiggled that fine fanny. "Is that better?"
"That's a good start." That's all I needed to hear. I let loose with my best spanking effort.
She wiggled and giggled and squealed and did other cute stuff. I sent swat after swat onto the seat of her jeans until my hand started to hurt. When I stopped, she giggled some more and let out a soft moan., but she didn't seem at all uncomfortable.
This will never do, I thought. My hand hurts too much. It's time to see if she's really into this, or just being silly.
"Stand up," I ordered, although not too firmly. With a smile on her face, she did so. "Take down your pants, young lady," I said.
She giggled yet some more, and thought for a second. But since we'd removed our trousers (and the rest of our clothes) for each other several times previously, she undid the front, wiggled them down over her buns, and let then fall to the floor. She even went a step further and kicked them off.
Without asking, she resumed her position over my lap. At this point, the racing hormones and blood pounding in my head seemed to make time move at a different speed. I'm not sure how long I stared at her near-perfect posterior. It might have been two seconds, it might have been two hours. She said to me, "Well, what's taking so long?" That was enough o clear my head to a point where I could at least concentrate on the task at hand.
This was the early eighties, so thong panties weren't yet in vogue, but she was wearing cute little pink satin undies. I took it upon myself to rain a considerable number blows upon those panties. The squealing and wiggling resumed but she made no effort to get away.
Now, I'm sure that many of you are think that we weren't very responsible. We didn't discuss what we were doing beforehand. I didn't ask her what she wanted or what her limits were. We didn't even agree on a safe word. I just smacked her butt repeatedly. While it is always a good idea to make sure everyone's expectations are the same, college-age hormonal overload can often blow logical thinking right the fuck out the door. And besides, this is my story!
After a goodly nunber of whacks, I stopped to allow both of us to catch our breath. Then I adjusted her panties so that they were gathered between her two lovely butt cheeks, leaving them unprotected, and continued my work. Shortly thereafter, the panties came down, then off altogether. I can safely say that, up to this point in my life, this was the happiest and most excited I had ever been.
So there we are, a wonderfully cute young lady, half-naked, laying across my lap, her bare booty turning the perfect shade of red under my hand, while she giggled, moaned, and cooed. And then we heard someone knocking on the goddamn door!
"Fuck!" we both said in unison. Quickly she rolled off of my lap, stood up, and grabbed a sweatshirt to tie around her waist. She scurried to the door (she scurried very well, thank-you). "Who is it?" she shouted at the door.
"It's Beth," the voice on the other side of the door responded. Beth was the ubiquitous Resident Assistant for the dorm floor that Suzy lived on. "I heard some loud noises coming from your room and I wanted to make sure that you were okay."
"Everything is fine," Suzy said. "Sorry for the noise. We were just making popcorn." Suzy was a lousy liar. "We're done now, so there won't be any more noise."
"Well ... okay," said Beth, skeptically. "Just try to keep it down."
"We will." We heard Beth walking away. We both laughed in relief, the kind of conspiratorial chortle where you try not to make any actual sound. The spanking had ended, however.
I won't go into any details as to how we spent the remainder of the evening. Suffice to say that it was quite a while before her pants went back on. I'll leave the rest so that you can use your own imagination and save mine for another story.
That was the only spanking that Suzy and I took part in. At semester's end, we said our farewells and moved on. I'm not sure if she returned to school in the fall or not, as I didn't see her after back at school the following August. It was one of those relationships where we both knew what we wanted, got it, and cordially parted to find new adventures for ourselves. It was best that way. But I occasionally remember Suzy fondly, sort of like the girl with whom you exchanged your first kiss. It is a memory that I will always find, well, Fantastic!
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I have used a belt on my girl for sometime and, occasionally, she has taken a belt to me. When I am spanking her, she wants a warm up. When I am spanked, I want a real strapping that leaves serious marks. She often sends me to the bed, but once she did me over the sofa. The sofa is good because it's hard to escape. Au lit I may roll over so she losses control.
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# posted by 
: October 26, 2006 6:02 PM
: October 26, 2006 6:02 PM << Home
