It is terribly unfair.
For years I've stood on the sidelines and watched my vanilla friends grab, smack and threaten to spank each others' bottoms. And all I could do was watch -- my cheeks flushing brightly, afraid of betraying my closely guarded secret.
They can joke about it. They can joke because to them it is all a joke.
In college, I pledged a sorority. No, not that kind. We were more of the hippie-chick, liberal-loving, free-spirits who saw purple clouds in the diamond sky, rather than the sorority that gave "snaps" to everyone with great highlights. Peace.
But still, there were paddles from every pledge class dating back to the 40's adorning the walls of our basement. Paddles that had a lot of weight and, presumably, thud. Paddles that were occasionally removed from the wall in a mock-threatening manner when someone committed a party foul.
I committed a lot of party fouls, especially when tequila was involved.
And when that paddle came down from the wall, I could not good-naturedly stick my bottom out and wait for the one-off smack. I could not play along. Instead I would stand there, frozen by the sight of that delicious wood paddle, and I'd tingle. I'd tingle until I thought everyone could feel the electric energy, until I was certain the stereo playing NIN's "Closer" would implode and scatter bits among my sorority sisters in a blast louder than any bare-bottomed smack this world has heard.
And then the moment would pass when another of the sisters would bump and grind her way to the inner circle and thrust out her butt, freeing me of my stunned mortification. Big cheers for the team player! Hoorah!
It was torture and I, the girl in the center of all the parties, kept thinking, "What is wrong with me? Why isn't this fun for me?" I could dance on pool tables. Give blow-jobs in the tennis courts. Fuck in the backseat of unlocked strangers' cars.* But I couldn't stick my ass out and whoop with joy?
They were not spankos. No spanko could, in those years of youth and ignorance, approach our trade with such nonchalance.
No, it's not fair, even now when people joke about getting "spanked" by a competing ad agency and my pulse quickens. It's not fair when bands call themselves "Spanking Machine" and nobody else at the bar gets the reference.
It's not fair. But I guess it wouldn't be fair if we had all the fun either, would it?
*Always lock your cars on college campuses. You never know when some horny party-goers will be in need of a vacant back seat.
For years I've stood on the sidelines and watched my vanilla friends grab, smack and threaten to spank each others' bottoms. And all I could do was watch -- my cheeks flushing brightly, afraid of betraying my closely guarded secret.
They can joke about it. They can joke because to them it is all a joke.
In college, I pledged a sorority. No, not that kind. We were more of the hippie-chick, liberal-loving, free-spirits who saw purple clouds in the diamond sky, rather than the sorority that gave "snaps" to everyone with great highlights. Peace.
But still, there were paddles from every pledge class dating back to the 40's adorning the walls of our basement. Paddles that had a lot of weight and, presumably, thud. Paddles that were occasionally removed from the wall in a mock-threatening manner when someone committed a party foul.
I committed a lot of party fouls, especially when tequila was involved.
And when that paddle came down from the wall, I could not good-naturedly stick my bottom out and wait for the one-off smack. I could not play along. Instead I would stand there, frozen by the sight of that delicious wood paddle, and I'd tingle. I'd tingle until I thought everyone could feel the electric energy, until I was certain the stereo playing NIN's "Closer" would implode and scatter bits among my sorority sisters in a blast louder than any bare-bottomed smack this world has heard.
And then the moment would pass when another of the sisters would bump and grind her way to the inner circle and thrust out her butt, freeing me of my stunned mortification. Big cheers for the team player! Hoorah!
It was torture and I, the girl in the center of all the parties, kept thinking, "What is wrong with me? Why isn't this fun for me?" I could dance on pool tables. Give blow-jobs in the tennis courts. Fuck in the backseat of unlocked strangers' cars.* But I couldn't stick my ass out and whoop with joy?
They were not spankos. No spanko could, in those years of youth and ignorance, approach our trade with such nonchalance.
No, it's not fair, even now when people joke about getting "spanked" by a competing ad agency and my pulse quickens. It's not fair when bands call themselves "Spanking Machine" and nobody else at the bar gets the reference.
It's not fair. But I guess it wouldn't be fair if we had all the fun either, would it?
*Always lock your cars on college campuses. You never know when some horny party-goers will be in need of a vacant back seat.
No, it's not fair in any way, shape or form. Story of my life.
ReplyDeleteButt, you've getting it now, so good for you.
Happy Spanking
What Roy and Dale really meant?
Burning tails to you
Until we meet again.
Pink,
ReplyDeleteI want to show you my sorority paddle....
Meet me at the tennis court!
BT: Yes. I really have no cause to complain. I suspect, though, that my inability to joke about spanking is a definite "tell" in my social circle.
ReplyDeleteD: What are YOU doing with a sorority paddle?
Oh how I can relate, spanking startles like that make it almost impossible for me to breathe and I always end up tingling and blushing and frozen without any idea how to respond. It isn't fair, I agree :) Love this post, you captured the feeling exactly.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I committed a lot of party fouls when tequila was involved too..;) Shhhhh...don't tell.
Celine
YES! SO Yes! I've done the rabbit caught in the headlights bit too! The whole world used to feel like it was imploding around me everyone just focusing on me and the horrid feeling that they could read my thoughts.
ReplyDeleteWow! This is the first time I've read about this aspect (no pun intended).
One of my bosses said "sometimes I wish I could just turn you over my knee and spank you" I almost died! That was before I had ever been spanked, I'm sure her (my bosse's) kinkdar was in overdrive!
Nice, thanks for sharing!
Celine: I'm so happy to hear that I'm not the only one guilty of party fouls...no worries, your secret is safe! (Take a shot on me.)
ReplyDeleteJulie: Wow. I once had a long-running fantasy about an old boss saying just that to me. Of course, in that fantasy I had a seductive comeback. In reality though, I'd have stood frozen to the carpet.
Thanks for commenting, you two!
:)
ReplyDeleteYour ability to put my thoughts into words is amazing! When people talk about any form of spanking or if I have here the threat being said I immediately try to look like I'm doing something else so that no one thinks I'm eavesdropping. Even when they are talking to me about it, I immediately start doing something else so they can't see my face!
ReplyDeleteHedone: I'm just going to keep calling you "sexy".
ReplyDeleteTy: Thank you! Don't you think when we react like that people might figure it out? I've been trying to master the art of nonchalance, but I am a poor actress.
I do think that and then I start to think maybe I should add something but what am I going to add? That tonight when I go home if I ask sweetly my man will spank me and I'll like it?? I realize this is a bad idea so I try desperately to change the subject!
ReplyDelete