Thursday, March 15, 2007
Today is Sexual Evolution’s first birthday! Unfortunately, you can’t really spank a blog. I’d offer to let you spank me instead, but I’m not sure my beau would approve.
I wasn’t always a spanking kind of girl. There was a time, long after I’d begun to explore my kinky side, when I found spanking fantasies laugh-out-loud funny. Erotica with spanking in it was an immediate turn off. When Virginia, who was older than me and had already gotten in touch with her spanko-self, asked me to spank her one night, I tried, and wavered the entire time between laughing (because it felt so ridiculous) and crying (because I was utterly mortified by the whole thing). Needless to say, it was not a satisfying experience for either of us.
But then I found myself in a relationship that was outright kinky.
I knew he liked to top, he knew I liked to bottom, and even our most vanilla sex usually had some element of power-play. When we had our initial series of “what would you flag?” conversations, we agreed that neither of us was turned on by spanking play and it wouldn’t be a part of our bedroom repertoire.
Then something changed. I got into the habit of making a certain kind of silly joke which happened to drive him crazy. He warned me one day that if I kept making those jokes he was going to have to spank me – so of course I had to test my limits. He grabbed me and spanked me and I squealed and we both laughed. It was funny, not sexy, and it became a game for me – I’d see if I could slip in a joke without him noticing. Inevitably, he’d notice. He spanked me in front of friends once, and I was horrified (although probably not as horrified as them. Then one night, as we were leaving my house for his apartment, I made the forbidden joke as we walked past the living room full of people. I said goodbye for the evening to my friends, thinking nothing of it, and as we stepped onto the porch and the door closed behind he pushed me up against the rough brick wall.
“No!” I whispered, “someone might see!”
“Guess you shouldn’t have made that joke then,” he said, and brought his hand down hard against my backside. I stifled my yelp and swallowed the safeword that had been on the tip of my tongue. This felt different. He meant business, and it completely changed the way I felt about the spanking. We stepped off the porch, my backside stinging. I hoped that no one had seen, but the whole walk to his apartment I struggled to get a grip on the intense and new experience of being so incredibly turned on by my own sense of shame. By the time we made it to his bedroom I was pretty much ready to tear his clothes off.
But I digress. Happy Birthday, blog-o-mine! Here’s to another year of smart sex.