My Spanking Life

Yesterday's post really got me thinking about my past. I look at pictures of myself as a teenager and as a young woman and I just have to shake my head. That girl just doesn't exist anymore. But, if we're being honest, how many of us can say we're the same people we were thirty or more years ago? I'm sure not. I've changed in ways that are incalculable and mostly for the better. I owe most of it to my upbringing. I think I pretty much hit the jackpot when it came to the kind of parents I got. I didn't see this at the time, though. At the time, I was envious of many of my friends, whose parents were better off than mine. I was envious that they got to do things my strict mom and dad just wouldn't allow. My girlfriends got to dress way more provocatively than I did. My dad often made sure we "passed inspection" before we left for school--dresses not too short, shirts not cut too low, no make up, etc. Once, when I protested these inspections because my brother was never subjected to them, my dad's answer was a curt "Boys don't end up with a fat belly." My dad had three daughters and he knew he faced a tough battle. The 70's were a time when a lot of kids, mostly ones from good homes like mine, were throwing off the conventions of their parents. My dad knew that even a good kid like me could end up in trouble. My mother and father both were determined that we were going to grow up to be good, solid citizens. This photo of me, with some of my mother's irises, was taken on May 25, 1979 according to the note on the back. It was taken the day before I graduated from high school. The road was wide open back then. I had my whole life ahead of me, which my mother often told me. The funny thing is, at about this time, I had a boyfriend who loved to photograph me. I think he took this photo. I had been trying for almost a year to get him to spank me. I'd tried everything, including come right out and telling him that was what I wanted. He was 20 at the time and a college boy. "Your dad did that to you" he told me. "I didn't know you were a psychology major," I quipped. "I thought you were majoring in business?" "I am," he said as we stood in my mother's pantry (for privacy). "Well then why don't you mind your own?" I asked. Now think about that ridiculous situation. I was trying to get him to spank me and at the same time, I didn't want him to analyze the reasons why I wanted one. To my shock, and with strength I didn't know he had, he grabbed me and bent me over at the waste. At the last minute, he lost his nerve and stood me back up. I was breathing hard, but not because of my asthma. I was about as turned on as I had ever been in my life. Then the prize was snatched away. He turned on his heel without even saying goodbye and left. The following week, he broke up with me. I couldn't understand why I wanted him to spank me. I had hated my dad's spankings as a child. But I did commit some thoughts to my diary that night, making my first attempt to confront my kinky side. I wondered what was the matter with me. Why couldn't I just be a normal girl? Of course, outwardly, I was. I could never be sure if this ex-boyfriend ever told anyone about my need to get spanked. I had no problem replacing him though. I wasn't promiscuous, mind you. I was just a normal, hot blooded girl.

This photo was taken in June, 1977 at my grandparents' place in Missouri. They had retired there in the early 70's. My grandfather built their beautiful home on Table Rock Lake. In the photo, I'm sitting on my grandfather's woodpile, giving the thumbs up. A few days earlier, I was caught by my grandmother necking with a boy on this very woodpile. He was a boy that my grandparents had approved of; a good, clean Christian boy. She was forced to change her mind about him when she caught him with his hand in my shirt and his tongue working my mouth. She was shocked to put it mildly. I think she came pretty close to having her second coronary. I was 16 and he was 17. I was jail bait. My grandfather was told and he reacted predictably. He pulled the kid off of me, took him by the collar and literally booted him off te property with a warning not to come back unless it was to apologize. My parents had gone to Berryville for the day to shop for walnut bowls. But they would have to be told. My grandmother lectured me about the dangers of not valuing my reputation. My grandfather threatened to make my bottom as red as the shirt I was wearing. I couldn't remember him ever laying a hand on me. "I'm not a child," I said. "Well, you're not a grown up either" my grandfather replied. These were my mother's parents. She had been their cherished only child. She'd been slightly spoiled and pampered growing up, but she had never for a moment deviated from the way she was raised. My grandmother was scandalized by the incident. I sat dejectedly on the front porch, waiting for my parents to come back. When their car pulled up, I felt sick to my stomach. I knew my dad would be furious with me. This was the beginning of my rebellious period. When my dad was told about my escapades on the woodpile, he was confused. This was so unlike me (actually, it WAS like me...it was just unlike me to get caught). As I said, I was 16 when this happened and well used to my dad's belt. But he surprised me this time. He made me get over his knee and he used his hard right hand to drive home his point. It was a childish punishment that I highly resented. When I told the boy about it, he was amused. His blue eyes danced with mischief. Good God, I was in love with him. Too bad we were going back to Illinois in five days. He was a country boy and took delight in referring to me as a "spoiled city girl". What? I was a spoiled city girl because I preferred indoor plumbing? Anyway, he actually did come over and apologize to my grandparents for disrespecting their property. My grandfather knew his dad well. I did see him one more time before we left but there was no hanky panky (unfortunately). He was a sweet kid and a great kisser. Those country boys usually are.

It's amazing to me how much spanking has been a part of my life. From the time I could remember, it was present. Either someone was getting it, or it was on TV or I was reading about it in my brother's comic books. I had gotten into the habit by the time I reached my late teens of trying to get my boyfriends to spank me. I just had the feeling it would be fun coming from anyone but my dad.

By the time I was 21 (when this photo was taken) I was quite a bit more experienced where men was concerned. I had learned that most men didn't appreciate subtlety. They needed to be hit over the head with a 2X4. At the time this picture was taken, in March, 1982, I was dating a guy who worked at his dad's auto glass business. I had no idea how much pressure he was under working for his dad, who was very demanding. I had wanted him to spank me for as long as we'd been dating. At that time, Bradley was playing in the NIT (a tournament they would win with a great game at Madison Square Garden) and since the boyfriend was an alum, we got tickets to the games that were played at home. You can just see the little apple sticker on my shirt. Those were sort of like a rallying thing with fans. We'd had a heated argument the day before this photo was taken and, I'm ashamed to say, that he'd blacked my eye with a hard slap. I'm using make up to cover it in the photo. I felt very confused by him. I couldn't get him spank me, but he had no problem hauling off and slapping me in the face hard enough to give me a shiner. I found out later from a mutual friend who also dated him that his father had beaten his mother on a few occasions. I knew I wanted no part of a relationship with a man like that. So I began to think of ways to extricate myself from this situation. I wasn't sure how I felt about him at that point. It's been so many years that I'm not even sure I can remember what I was feeling. I remember a few days later he actually did spank me. But it wasn't the kind I wanted. We'd been invited to a couple of friends' place for a little party to celebrate Bradley's NIT win and we had been to the grocery store to pick up some cold cuts and beer for the party. We actually got into an argument because I wanted to keep the stuff at my house until the party and he asked what was wrong with his place. "Nothing" I said. "Here, take the stuff to your place. Jeese, like I give a shit! You make a production out of everything." He stood there, shocked to inaction, I thought. The look on his face was familiar. I'd seen it right before he'd hauled off a slapped me. I wouldn't say I was afraid. I told him if he ever hit me again, I would knock him on his ass. I was strong from playing sports and I had no doubt I could do it. I had broken the nose of a boy I was dating when I was 19 when he did nothing more than grab my wrist. Anyway, he stood there steaming and said "Are you finished?" I shrugged. I didn't know what he meant by finished. "Just get outta here" I said. "Go and leave me alone. Take that crap with you it means so much to you." Now at this time, I wasn't as big as I am now. But I was still a pretty big girl. I was 5'9" and weighed about 150 at the time. This guy was not small. He was about five inches taller than I was and outweighed me by about 60 pounds. Maybe I wouldn't be able to drop him after all. But I let him know that he was never going to hit me again without me doing something about it. My father had a chair he liked to sit in and it had otoman that matched it. My boyfriend took my arm and marched me over to the ottoman and sat down on it. Then he jerked me over his knee so hard he almost pulled my arm out of the socket. Then he spanked me. "You wanted this, remember" he said as he pummeled me. "Not this way" I said. "Oh I doubt that," he said. "I think this is exactly how you wanted it." So now I was even more confused. The spanking had hurt and I guess I didn't know what to expect. All I had to go on was fantasy. Had I been pushing his buttons? Anyway, he left taking the cold cuts and beer with him. The funny thing is that I still ended up going to the party with him. I made sure no one saw my shiner or found out about the spanking. One of our friends commented on how quiet I was and I was about to say something when he volunteered "Oh, I had to straighten her out a little yesterday. She's still pouting." That NIT party was the last time I saw him. I made up my mind after that to put my spanking needs out of my mind. I figured it wasn't healthy and I didn't enjoy the spanking I'd actually gotten from him. Best just to leave it as a fantasy than to risk that again. Of course, this was long before there was even a spanking scene. I'm sure people spanked each other, but there was no organized scene. It wasn't until I'd given up looking that I actually did receive a spanking that was more in line with what I wanted. In December, 1985, I turned 25 years old. I went to a New Year's Eve party given by some friends I bowled with. When we were bowling that Satruday, we were bowling against a pretty good team. On the team was a married couple named Ben and Norma. Ben was a big left hander who had the nickname Captain Hook because of the way his ball broke when he threw it. He had the biggest hook I'd ever seen. Anyway, they mentioned to me that another couple we bowled with, Jeanette and Dennis, were having a party on New Year's Eve. "Oh, it's my birthday. Sure, I'll go." As soon as Ben heard it was my birthday, he began to taunt me. He said, when I came back from bowling a strike (my forth in a row) he said "I'm going to put you over my knee and spank you in front of everyone." "Sure you are, Ben," I laughed. I noticed that Norma, his wife, didn't like this talk. "He'll get drunk and forget," she assured me. Oh, I hoped not. Anyway, the night of the party came and I got dressed with care, deciding to wear a pair of gray snakeskin pumps I'd been saving for a special occasion.
That's my friend, Jeanette, next to me and the lap belongs to Ben, the man who actually did spank me that night. We'd been eating a lot and drinking a fair amount when someone suggested a game of Trivial Pursuit, still all the rage then. I belonged to a group that played regularly so I was all for it. We played guys against the girls. It was a spirited game and we took it very seriously. However, no one wanted to see the evening disintegrated because of a silly game so we decided there would be no bragging or rubbing it in from the winning team. So a compromise was reached. Dennis, Jeanette's husband, suggested that if the ladies' team lost, the captain of the team (me) would get a spanking by the captain of the other team (Ben). "I already promised her one coz it's her birthday," Ben said. "She'll get spanked either way." The other ladies--Jeanette, Norma and my friend Rhonda--protested. What if the guys lost? "Yeah, think you can handle getting a spanking, Ben?" I asked. No way. The spanking was only for the ladies. If the guys lost? "We'll do the dishes," Dennis volunteered. There was a mountain of them in the kitchen, so of course, the bet was on. Well, it went down to the last question and we lost. It's been 25 years and I still think that Rhonda missed that question on purpose. Who doesn't know that Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin? But I was a good sport. I settled myself over Ben's ample lap and he counted out 25 pretty good spanks, plus one for good luck. I had on gray pantie hose under the winter white slacks I was wearing but I still felt it. So did Ben. "You have the hardest ass I've ever felt," he said. "Yeah, my dad said the same thing," I shrugged. "Must be all that horseback riding."
Anyway, that was the last spanking I got for a long time. I remember Norma was sort of looking on with a jealous expression the whole time her husband was spanking me. He was obviously enjoying it. I was 25, young and firm. I so wish I had been getting spanked for fun back then. Oh well...I've made up for lost time. And then some.