Being A Spanko - Denial & Acceptance

I had planned on writing on another topic, but after participating in A.S.S.’s roundtable question from last week, I was inspired to share a bit about my vain attempt to not be a spanko.

I’m pretty much convinced that I was simply born with an interest in spanking. I have many early childhood memories that are spanking related – the embarrassing thrill I’d get when reading (and then re-reading again and again) a passage in a book about someone getting spanked, an even bigger thrill when I’d see a character on TV (most often cartoons) actually receiving a spanking, looking up the definition of the word spank in the dictionary, using a folding chair as a makeshift spanking machine to use on my poor Mickey Mouse doll (when caught and asked what I was doing, I lamely replied I was pretending it was a see-saw), and imagining myself in one of those conveyor belt style spanking machines with the mechanical hands they had on Bugs Bunny while waiting to drift off to sleep at night. I’d occasionally try to spank myself, once even attempting to use my dad’s old fraternity paddle! Let’s just say that didn’t work out too well.

As I got a little older, sometimes I’d write or make audio recordings of little spanking stories. I often set the stories in the UK during the Victorian era and made a terrible attempt at a British accent in my recordings. I’m not entirely sure why, but I must have been inspired by some sort of literary work and preferred the remorseful resignation to one's fate and all of the formality involved in the spanking ritual in those times as opposed to a quick grab and smack. Or I might just have been an odd kid. Who knows.

I don’t recall ever purposely pushing away my interest in spanking as an older child or a teen, but somewhere along the way, it subsided for a while. But looking back at that time there were a lot of negative things going on in my little world – family discord, loss of a sibling, serious personal illness – and I lost interest in many things I had once held dear.

Then one day I was on the internet (procrastinating from doing the actual schoolwork I should have been doing) reading random online journals when I stumbled across an entry by a woman who was spanked as an adult. She had several entries about what she’d done to earn her spankings, what sort of discipline she’d received, her nervous anticipation of the punishment she was going to receive for her current infractions, and more. My jaw dropped and all of the memories of being infatuated with spanking washed over me.

I was stunned. There were people, grown adults, that were spanked and liked it? You mean there were others that got the same little charge out of it that I did? And that’s ok???

I immediately typed “Spank” into Google and the results were far better than the ones my old dictionary ever produced. I sat there clicking on site after site simply overwhelmed by all the internet had to offer. I quickly joined a couple of groups and discussion boards and began to shyly post under my sorority nickname. I was welcomed warmly, posted more often, played in chat rooms a few times, even dared to meet a couple of people in real life (some meetings turned out well, others did not) and my interest in spanking simply blossomed. I enjoyed the little secret society that my fellow dorm-mates would never guess I belonged to.

But one day, without reason that I can pinpoint, I grew uncomfortable with it all. Despite clearly knowing I was far from alone in my interest, I felt like it was no longer ok. I didn’t want to be a spanko. I didn’t want to have this passion, this kink. I wanted to be vanilla.

So I stopped visiting the boards and changed my online messenger screen name. I deleted all of the spanking photos I had stored on my computer. I actively threw myself into other interests (some healthy, some not so much) in a massive effort to block out every thought or temptation involving spanking.

And for a while, it worked.

After a bit, I didn’t miss the boards. I filled my time with other sites and activities. I didn’t even think about spanking.

But one day, I did something I shouldn’t have. For privacy reasons, I don’t wish to go into detail, but basically I broke a major promise that could have had lots of unfortunate consequences. I remember sitting on my futon and crying so hard I was hiccupping and feeling crushed by the weight of the guilt and remorse I was carrying. And seemingly out of nowhere, the desire to be spanked (this time for discipline for my recent actions) came flooding back.

Since that dark day, I returned to the spanking world and have not had any desire to try to make myself into a vanilla again. I came back to the boards, reconnected with old friends, and eventually received that disciplinary spanking I felt I earned for my actions. I stopped questioning my interest so much and simply started enjoying it in moderation rather than feeling like it’s some dirty secret or terrible obsession.

I’m not sure that I could ever completely change myself to the point that I no longer had a passion for spanking. As I said at the beginning of this rather long post, I believe I was simply born this way and clearly my previous attempts weren’t very successful. For this reason, I was very open and honest when I first met my current boyfriend. I explained to him how important spanking was to me and the fact that I work as a spanking model (even though I was only doing so part-time back then). I wanted to give him the opportunity to walk away if need be because I knew I couldn’t possibly keep such a secret from him nor could I promise to change. Fortunately, he didn’t walk away, and instead not only was he ok with me having an interest in spanking, but soon he grew to enjoy spanking me himself! I am so thankful that he accepts me for the spanko I am and am also greatly relieved to finally accept myself as well.