Wednesday, 8 February 2012

Bottoms and Spanking - from a follower

I truly do love my followers. You have provided me with such joy and at present you are doing Aunty's job for her and providing me with lovely posts. Today's post comes from Rennie, it's an intensely personal and thought provoking piece and two subjects near and dear to all of us: bottoms and spanking.


    The Story Of A Boy And His Bottom



Let’s not mince words. I love my bottom with a religious fervor, and have done ever since I first caught sight of it in the mirror as a boy. If I hadn’t already known it, at least by the time I was six, I understood that bottoms (children’s especially) were susceptible to something called a spanking: the determined application of smacks on the bottom, buttocks, backside, behind, bum, you name it, as a punishment for being naughty, rude, disobedient, disrespectful, what have you.
The intrigue was inescapable. After all, bottoms were the star attraction in private child’s play. “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.” They were simultaneously naughty and nice. Practical and provocative. And so sublimely smackable, it beggared the imagination.
Spanking was a world of wonders all to itself. The ingeniousness of being turned over someone’s knee surely deserved a place in the listing of human inventions. And no small credit was due Adam and Eve for being made ashamed of their nakedness. Spanking a bottom was one thing, but spanking a bottom laid bare was nothing short of a universal truth.
And truly, there were times when spanking was all I wanted out of life. All I ever wanted to read, to hear, to know about. If the word came down that some other kid had been spanked, how red was their bum? I’ve long since forgotten what library book it was that rewarded my browsing with the delightful description of someone having ‘ the complexion of a well-spanked bottom.’ On top of all the mental images of a saucy bare backside turned rosy red from paddling, I had to wonder just how the writer knew what a well-spanked bottom looked like. I guess I thought of it as privileged information.
The times when I unquestionably should’ve been spanked and wasn’t are permanent fixtures of my memory. Which was worse; being rude to my mum on the phone or stealing money from my sisters’ coat pockets? You let a boy think he can get away with such brazen naughtiness and the next thing you know, he’ll be ordering spanking erotica through the mail.
My attitude towards the only spanking paperback I ever shoplifted as a shy, self-conscious teenager addicted to bottom warming was that I was obviously its intended reader. The writing was tailor-made for my fantasy world where naughty bare bumcheeks quivered and quaked across the knee of adult authority as palm, paddle, strap, hairbrush or slipper transformed them into twin mounds of strawberry ice cream, more or less.
No alarm sounded as I left the shop with my prize tucked underneath my schoolbooks, and no one else ever knew about it. It was another book my mother found and held up to me, asking if I wanted a bare bottom spanking. Seems to me we did too much talking in my family and not enough acting on impulse. My pants couldn’t have been that much trouble to take down, and I was just the right size to fit nicely over Mother’s lap.
Instead, all my spankings through my teens and twenties were self-administered. Frankly, it’s nowhere near as awkward as people make it out to be. As long as I had the right tool for the job, I was a veritable
pyromaniac forever setting fire to my helpless backside. Any self-spanking is grievously hampered by the lack of that interpersonal dimension. But there wasn’t much more I could’ve done to persuade either my mum or my oldest sister to confirm my need for punishment and paddle me pink. I wasn’t so much of a shrinking violet that I was prepared to do without the corporal comeuppance I knew I deserved.
Even though I privately modeled my high-school boy’s jockstrap for my younger sister (and we know full well it wasn’t the jockstrap I was showing off), I never admitted to sometimes wearing her half-slip and panties for the sake of a different look when I spanked myself. And I never spared the horses where warming my bare bum was concerned.
You’re either in love with something or you’re not. My well-spanked bottom not only titillated me, it settled me down. It soothed my jangled nerves. Like I said, I should’ve been properly spanked more than once and I wasn’t. Reclusive but resourceful, the word never came down from on high that I couldn’t fend for myself.
“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”       PROVERBS 22:6


  



15 comments:

  1. Very well done and yes ma'am a nice look into the mind of a spanko. Interesting and very thought provoking, Ronnie wrote about a lot of what many of us are thinking. Nice post and thanks.

    Ron

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  2. Self-spanking is a deeply embarassing thing, but... I so relate to this post. I know where Ronnie is coming from when he says "there wasn’t much more I could’ve done to persuade either my mum or my oldest sister to confirm my need for punishment and paddle me pink". In those circumstances DIY is the only answer.

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  3. This was a delightful read, words put together to provoke a smile and so purely candid.

    I never had to do it myself growing up, as my parents were deeply committed to providing spankings on bare bottoms for naughty boys and girls. I shared this intense fascination for spankings and vivid red behinds, but the reality was just too close to home to wish for its materialization. It was only years later that I was able to understand spanking as a desire.

    franz

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  4. I sincerely appreciate all the comments, I really do. I was hesitant to respond because I'm still hoping Aunty can include the 'visual enhancements' that were meant to go with the text. The visual element of my spanking passion has always been critically important to me, either in terms of what I'm seeing in the mirror, in my camera, or what I imagine the woman holding me across her knee (unfortunately, it's been a while) is looking at.

    Rennie

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  5. Ron, Veronica and Franz, my own parents kept my bottom warm and red on a regular basis, so I never felt the need to self spank until I moved out on my own and realised that I missed the feeling, even then it wasn't all that long before I found a bottom to spank and another one to spank mine. It is a very intense need and a special feeling and I thank Rennie for being both brave and candid in sharing his feelings with us.
    Rennie, I apologise again about the issue with the pictures. I will be talking to young Kimberley about it, a conversation that I imagine will feature her bottom and my hairbrush, the girl is my techspert after all! I've managed to get the images in there now, I am sorry about that.

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    1. Aunty Andrea,
      I too had parents who kept my bottom warm and red on a regular basis. I think you and I were very fortunate to have had such parents, so many today have no clue about behavior maintenance the old fashioned way. Thankfully I have also found someone's bottom to warm and to warm my bottom when she feels I am in need.
      Dave

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    2. Thank you for your comment, Dave. My spankings hurt at the time, but when I reflected on them later I knew that I had deserved them and was fortunate that my parents cared enough to correct my misbehaviour.

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  6. I have to say I too had no issues until adult time. Self spanking is just a necessary evil if you will. None of us like doing it but sometimes...........

    Great pics
    Always
    Ron

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  7. That's exactly what I missed out on, Aunty: "my own parents kept my bottom warm and red on a regular basis." The times when I knew I deserved punishment and didn't get it (except for the withdrawal of affection) left me unsettled and frustrated. Especially when the prospect of a spanking (with all of its vaunted shame and pain) was held out to me as something I could ask for. What boy of 14 would ever admit to his mother he longed for her to spank his bare bottom?

    I love the picture your words paint for me; a child's naughtiness faithfully met with a good, sound spanking. It was a special kind of nurturing I was teased with rather than responsibly given; like when my schoolteacher mum was told a bad boy in her class had been spanked on the bare bum at home, and she then wondered aloud (in my oldest sister's company) if I might not benefit from similar treatment.

    Thanks for being so obliging!

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  8. Thanks, Rennie, for such an honest article and one that I can empathize with. Spanking was not a common occurrence in my home growing up, so I had to find alternatives too, like asking a babysitter to turn me over her knee when I was eight. (that's a whole 'nuther story), or drawing my fantasies, a practice which I still find cathartic. Of course, at the time I used to think I was abnormal, but that did nothing to still my desires. What a liberation when I discovered they were not all that uncommon.

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  9. Thank you, RR. Did your mother ever find your drawings? Mine knew early on that spanking had me fixated. To be fair, it was a little bit complicated for her when it came to disciplining me. I learned later on in life that she'd had her own (dominant) spanking fantasies as a girl. She said they troubled her enough that she ultimately suppressed them.

    As the mother of a shy and impressionable boy with a spanking fascination, there no doubt were instances when she genuinely felt like warming my bottom. She could verbally make me aware at the time ("For two cents, I'd spank you!"), but she couldn't ever just forget about her qualms and go ahead and do it.

    I'd love to hear the babysitter story. ;-)

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  10. Rennie's posts always generate such comment, and I think that's a wonderful thing. I like him would also love to hear Red Rump's babysitter story, and I'm sure others would too, how about that, RR? Maybe it could be accompanied by one of your excellent images?
    As Ron said, self spanking is probably a last resort for most of us, but just has to be done sometimes. It's rather like that itch you can't quite reach, but really have to scratch.

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  11. Rennie- to answer your question - no, I don't think she ever did. I was an avid sketcher and kept a box full of drawings of many kinds, and I always kept the spanking ones at the bottom (no pun intended).
    btw - how did you find out about her own dominant spanking fantasies?

    Andrea - Rennie's story has got me inspired to do just that, though I am not comfortable with posting images which in any way involve children. Most spankos know that our tastes often developed in childhood, and would probably understand it from that perspective, and that perspective alone, but nevertheless - just the notion that an illo of mine could even potentially find its way into the collection of some pedophile is enough to reaffirm my commitment to keeping my blog kid-free.
    However, I could just illustrate the sitter, sans me...
    Have to think on the best way to do this. When I do, though, I will link back to this article.

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    1. Without getting too deep into all the family details, RR (which involved letters equating me with child abusers and demanding I keep my depravity to myself if I weren't prepared to get help...the most virulent of these from my younger sister), my mother wrote me candidly in 1990 after I'd told her my then wife's and my forthcoming tour of Britain would include some personal contact with people in the spanking trade.

      She knew bare bottom spanking was a not uncommon indulgence, and then she told me how she'd put herself to sleep as a young girl, imagining that she was running an orphanage with complete freedom to spank all the waifs and strays on their bare bums. She herself was sometimes spanked, but never on the bare.

      Growing up in very much a church-going environment, she apparently felt guilty enough about her fantasies that she actively suppressed them. Her final remark to me was her wish that I not let spanking become too important in my life. Born of a mother's love, but closing the barn door long after the horse had bolted.

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  12. Sounds like you have an understanding mother. I don't think my folks would have been so liberally minded if they had found my drawings.
    However, your story makes me wonder if something like a fondness for spanking can actually be passed on genetically...?

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