Spanking has been the
subject of my thoughts for as long as I can
remember. As a young child, I was
remarkably well behaved... I wanted to
please my parents, and they showered me with
love and affection. When I was bratty, it
was mild and very playful, and I never got
spanked.
I remember finding a
small thrill in testing boundaries, but when
I was scolded for misbehavior I would
immediately crumble and cry. If my Daddy
gave me a stern look my chin would quiver
and my eyes would well with tears. They
really had little reason to punish me.
However, I was
enthralled when in a cartoon or TV show a
spanking scene appeared. My eyes would be
glued to the screen and my heart would pound
in my chest. Even at a very young age, I
felt that my interest was inherently
shameful, so I tried not to show it.
Spankings were wonderful and compelling, and
on TV, they always seemed to happen to
children whose parents loved them. I loved
the idea of over-the-knee correction
administered by a loving but determined
father, experiencing controlled fear and
pain, and especially the affectionate
aftermath, which, in my mind, was attention
showered by a beautiful mother with a soft
bosom and lots of suckers.
I was a tiny child,
the accidental caboose after Mom and Dad
already produced the obligatory boy and
girl, and my siblings received wicked
beltings from my dad surprisingly
frequently. I remember hiding around the
corner, sobbing and scared, wishing it
weren't happening, horrified yet
enthralled. My dad would have my brother
and sister come into the living room, scold
them both so they knew why they were about
to get spanked, methodically call my sister
first, grab her around the waist so she was
standing, bent over, unable to move and
strap her hard with his leather weapon. She
would kick, scream and cry, and this would
continue for what felt like an eternity
while my brother stood there knowing he was
next. Then it was my brother, exactly the
same, but I think my dad was a little bit
harder on him despite his younger age.
After it was all over he would abruptly
tell them he hoped they'd learned their
lesson and stomp away, sometimes walking
right by me, but needing to cool off before
dealing with any of us. In real life,
witnessing the spankings was traumatic, but
I couldn't stop myself from eavesdropping.
And as the youngest and most docile of the
children, I was insulated from receiving
them.
When I was five or six
years old, my mother won a giant teddy bear
from a gift store. It was about four feet
tall sitting down, taller than me, and I
would prop myself over its lap and try to
make it spank me with its ungainly fur paw.
As I got older, I managed to get almost
every child in my neighborhood to play
spanking games with me. It was around this
time, at age 8 or 9, that I realized that it
was a lot easier to get them to play
spanking games if they were the ones who got
the spankings! At first, I begrudgingly
took the naughty little boy or girl over my
lap and smacked away, wishing I were the one
being spanked. But then I started to like
it. A lot. As time passed, I became
intoxicated with the power I felt as I
lovingly administered maternal spankings to
my "children." And so a switch was born.
All in all, though, my
childhood was mellow and uneventful. I see
my own happy childhood as a strong testament
to the idea that some people are just born
with the spanking bug. I wrote some stories
when I was 11 or 12 years old, all based
around a little girl getting kidnapped into
a family of giants and forced into domestic
servitude. You won't be surprised to hear
that she was frequently and soundly spanked.
It wasn't until fairly
recently that I had the Internet, so for
much of my early adulthood I didn't know
that I was not alone in my proclivities.
From the time I hit puberty, I kept my
curiosity and passion for spanking a secret,
and I treated myself to occasionally looking
up "SPANK" in the dictionary (that page was
worn, tattered and dog-eared!), gazing
lovingly at cheap pine paddles in novelty
stores, and fantasizing in depth about
giving and receiving spankings. I focused
on school and family (I lived with my ill
sister for a long time and mothered her
children in my mid-teens), and became
responsible, straight-laced and boring.
My first adult
spanking experience came from a short-lived
fling with an exciting, dangerous,
adventurous boy. Jesse and I were both on
the rebound from a more involved
relationship. His ex was a beautiful little
blond named Desiree. He showed me pictures
of her, long blond hair teasing the dimpled
tops of tiny, rounded buttocks, slender and
beautiful, and a crazy bitch to boot. He
reminisced that he did things to her that
he'd go to jail for doing to me, which
extracted a flushed smile from me.
Eventually the kid got smart enough to
realize that although I was fairly
inexperienced and wholesome, I was excited
about doing naughty things with him. One
night we were playing in bed, and he
blindfolded me. He told me to wait for him
while he left and got something from the
other room, and warned me that if I touched
the blindfold, he'd stick my bottom high up
in the air and spank it.
I nearly fainted at
his words! The blood was rushing through my
ears so forcefully I could feel it. My
heart racing, my palms sweating, I stood
frozen and breathless for a moment until I
realized this was finally my chance! I
ripped the blindfold from my face and flung
it across the room, nearly hitting him with
it as he walked back in with a cold beer.
Jesse's face
registered surprise and then instant
acknowledgment. A big grin slowly stretched
over his face and he looked at me with new
eyes. I had just inducted myself into a
secret, unnamed society, a class of people
identified by their predilections for the
darker side of sex and play. He didn't say
anything, and neither did I, but in that
moment we exchanged a thousand words. I saw
the glint in his eyes and realized that he
knew something about me, something deep and
secret and shameful, but before I could show
my embarrassment he closed the distance
between us in three long strides and,
clasping my wrists behind my back, stole a
long, passionate kiss from me. Still
holding my wrists, he spun me around and lifted
my arms so that I had no choice but to bend
over, and he delivered a long volley of
spanks to my virginal bottom.
What an experience! I
squealed and kicked, but he didn't stop
until he was ready, then let me stand. I
was amazed. It was perfect! I wanted to
marry him right then and there. I couldn't
believe that someone else in this world
would gain pleasure from the same things I
did.
When I finally emerged
from the dark ages and bought myself a
computer, I was overwhelmed by the plethora
of spanking information available. I
joined groups and forums and immersed myself
as much as I could into the world of
spanking. It was all so new and
wonderful. It amazed me every day. I've
had the typical experiences of hitting the
wall and leaving the scene for a while, but
the spanking bug never left me. I want to share my experiences and
stories with anyone who would like to know. My adventure in spanking has had
many ups and downs, but the end result is
that I am here, and I'm happy and in a place
of acceptance with who I am.
Thank you for reading
about me! I hope that you enjoy what Abi &
I intend to share, and please give us
feedback! We will listen to your comments
and suggestions.
~Audrey Knight
