Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky?
The following is a (slightly edited) transcript of an MSN chat I had with Sammi in late 2007. It contains discussion of the corporal punishment of children (namely, an incident that occurred to me in childhood) so should such content offend or upset you, you have been warned!
SAMMI: Ok. When did you know?
ME: When did I know what?
SAMMI: When did you know you were a freak?
ME: I don’t know. When did you know?
SAMMI: When my mum beat my ass with a hairbrush and I was like ok-owwwww but kinda-yummy :p
SAMMI: When did you know?
ME: I don’t know.
SAMMI: For Mr Self-Aware not to have asked himself this question a thousand times? Don’t buy it.
ME: I guess I’ve kinda always known. The way I got excited at Tom and Jerry.
ME: Yeah. Hold on.
ME: [sending attachment]
ME: When I saw stuff like that my mind was just…mmmmm, yes please.
SAMMI: And when your mum first spanked you.
ME: Bit overwhelmed maybe. But…
ME: Hang on. I just thought of something.
SAMMI: Not nice to keep a girl waiting.
SAMMI: and waiting…
SAMMI: and waiting…
ME: Did you get the attachment?
SAMMI: Yep. What is it?
ME: Something I wrote ages ago about a near-spanking.
SAMMI: A near-spanking?
ME: Yeah. When my ass nearly got beat but didn’t.
SAMMI: Ooo, mind if I read?
ME: That’s why I sent it, silly :p
My grandfather’s sofa reeked of tobacco smoke. Whenever I walked into his lounge room this odor was the only thing I could smell. I hated it. Every time we went to his house during the holidays I would do whatever I could to avoid this room and that nasty, gag-inducing stench.
But whenever I think of that day, that rancid smell is one of the three overriding memories that come back to me; a primal fear and total desperation being the two others.
My head was pressed against the cushion of the sofa, forced to breath in a lungful of that hideous odor, with my bottom pushed high into the air over the wooden arm of the furniture. My feet could barely touch the ground, dangling precariously in open space as he wrestled the navy blue track suit bottoms from my petrified, near ten-year old bottom.
Everything I did to stop him failed. Grabbing the waistband of my pants to pull against his tugs was met only with my hand being swiped away. Begging him that I was sorry and would never do it again resulted only in a gruff bark of indignation. Before I could come up with anything else I felt the cool breeze from the open window on my bare buttocks and I knew this was it.
This was the day I finally got the spanking I’d had coming for years!
Peering over my shoulder I saw the belt being pulled from my Grandfather’s trousers. It was brown leather, about an inch thick, and decorated with faint Celtic knot work; it was a belt my Grandfather was promising me would deliver the punishment he wished my mother had given years ago.
I’d been spanked only once in the past, a quick few whacks of my mother’s slipper but threatened with a hiding more times than I could count. On all those near miss and should-have-been occasions I had never felt anything like this; a primal terror beginning in my belly and reaching out to infect every molecule of my body. My toes curled in my shoes, my knees shook uncontrollably, my buttocks clenched in dread, my fingers gripped the edge of the sofa, my mouth gasped to be rehydrated by the shocked tears I was shedding.
The noise kicked my heart into overdrive. It was only the two sides of leather snapping together as he doubled the belt in two and let it hang menacingly from his hand. The next time I would hear that noise it would be made against flesh; my flesh! He looked me straight in the eyes and without an ounce of compassion informed me ‘that soon I would have something to really cry about!’
As he took a couple of steps to his right I buried my head in the sofa. I didn’t care about the smell. All I cared about was finding a way out of this predicament. Why had I wanted to be spanked? Why had I dreamt of being in such a position? Why had my head raced and stomach fluttered whenever I’d seen the comic panels of bottoms being whacked? Please. Someone? Anyone? What had I been thinking? Why had I wanted this? This proper, full on, reduced to bawling, thrashing? Why hadn’t I listened to him? He’d told me a dozen times not to play football in the house. Why had I kept pushing him? Why had I kept playing? Kept testing the boundaries until I’d broken something valuable and…faster than I’d ever thought possible…ended up bare assed over this rancid sofa waiting for that brown leather belt to tear across my terrified cheeks. Oh god. Oh lord. Oh Jesus. Oh someone. Anyone? Don’t let him spank me.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
My mother’s voice cut through the tension and caused us both to turn our heads. I remained silent, not knowing what to say. She’d been shopping. She hadn’t been due back for another hour, at least. Was this divine intervention? Or a cruel twist of fate where she’d get to watch? My tear soaked eyes gazed at my mother wondering whether she was going to save or condemn me. “Addy, go to your room, now!”
“Addy, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay right where you are!” My grandfather commanded.
Without saying another word my mother moved swiftly across the room and stood between me and my grandfather. She brushed her hand over my un-spanked bottom to check no-one had struck her son before lifting me from the couch and guarding me behind her as I fumbled with my trousers. As soon as I was dressed she shooed me out the room and I tore down the corridor toward my room.
SAMMI: If that had been my mother. She would have just stood there and watched.
ME: Really? She wouldn’t have stopped it?
SAMMI: Hell no. Fuck. If that had been me I would have been sleeping on my stomach that night! Lucky you.
ME: That’s the thing. I don’t think that.
SAMMI: Freak ;)
ME: I was piss fucking scared but I felt almost let down.
SAMMI: You wanted him to belt you?
ME: Yeah. Like you said. Freak.
SAMMI: Yeah, but a cute freak :p
SAMMI: Don’t beat yourself up about it. We all have fucked up shit going on inside us.
SAMMI: So is that when you knew?
ME: I guess so. I don’t know. Like I said. It’s been with me all my life. Like when Annie threatened me that time I told you about. Or when Louise went to spank me but couldn’t go through with it.
SAMMI: I seriously don’t get that.
ME: She tried. Long story.
ME: Maybe when I started going online. I guess. Before that it was just confused fantasies. But when I discovered I wasn’t on my own. When I realized there were other people out there who liked getting their ass spanked.
SAMMI: Like me :D
ME: Exactly :D
ME: Sorry I don’t have a better answer. Honestly don’t really know.
SAMMI: Yeah ya do :) You’ve known since you were born, started recognizing it when you were little, after that you just didn’t know how to process it until you started talking to other people about it. Twas a good answer.
ME: Boring answer.
SAMMI: ‘Cause there’s no neat solution like in a movie script? No light bulb moment? No flag pin-pointing the precise location of discovery. It’s your freaky mind, Addy. Who the fuck knows when shit happens. It just does. I kinda like your answer. Does that mean whenever you smell tobacco you think of that moment?
ME: Only pipe tobacco.
SAMMI: Not many pipe smokers these days.
SAMMI: You should buy some. Send yourself back to that day.
ME: I remember it well enough as it is!
These days I am prone to agree with Sammi. There was no light bulb moment, no incident in my life that made me suddenly realise I was a kinky assed bastard.
Perhaps it was that moment over my grandfather’s couch, where despite all the fear, I was secretly hoping he would go through with it. Or when I watched my friend’s ass turn bright red during a spanking from his mum and hoped for the same. Perhaps it was when I read Boy for the first time. Or when I secretly relished the heat of my bottom after my mum slippered me not long after. Maybe it was those early conversations with Miss Beatrix where I allowed myself to accept my fantasies for the first time. Or the moment I first spanked Louise. Or ended up over her lap for that frustrating non-spanking. I honestly don’t know. There are countless occasions through my life that could be written as the moment of discovery, but the simple fact is, none of them are really true.
I wrote recently “I genuinely believe I was born with a spanking fetish” and this is something I’ll stand by until the day I die. Knowing me, I probably giggled when the Nurse slapped my butt moments after popping out of the womb!
Perhaps that was the moment of discovery :p