My History: Part II

When I was five, I started Kindergarten at the local Public School. There, I made my first friend. We went over to each others houses as much as we could and confided all our secrets to one and other. My friend brought spanking up first: otherwise, I don’t think I’d have ever mentioned it, due to the deep sense of shame and secrecy surrounding my spanking thoughts and desires from the very start. My friend, however, was spanked at home, and she asked me if I was. I answered yes, because I believed that was the answer that would lead to the most conversation on the subject. We exchanged stories about the spankings that we had received, mine, of course, being entirely fabricated. They were easy to create, though: I had a thousand stories I’d made up floating around in my head. 
Up until very recently, I was afraid to even think about spanking in the presence of others. Although it concerned me in no other situation, when it came to spanking, I was afraid that there was a psychic nearby who would violate my mental privacy and know my deepest, darkest thoughts and desires. Once I began school my home life became more complicated and I no longer had long hours to pass alone in my room whacking teddy bears, but my spanking obsession was not satisfied by the conversations my friend and I shared: instead, it increased tenfold. I began a habit of lying in bed before I fell asleep and in the safety and privacy of my dark room, making up complex spanking fantasies. This practice never left me, but now I generally relive the events that took place during one of my favorite spanking memories instead of making up a new story. 
My original stories, like my pretends, included plenty of the elements that I still identify as my favorite aspects of a spanking, but they were otherwise rather bland. I knew that I had no desire to be spanked by my family members; the very idea of it made me uncomfortable. This left me with a large problem: I had no one to spank me in my fantasies. I solved this problem by creating the most boring characters ever. The Tops in my stories were faceless, they had very generic names and they existed exclusively to deliver spankings to girls like me. The spankings themselves were extremely formulaic: I actually knew very little about what a spanking was: I knew that they were generally delivered across a lap and to a bared bottom, that they hurt and produced redness, struggling and tears and that they were primarily a disciplinary act. Because the idea of spankings with an implement had not yet crossed my mind, the main variation that I could create in my stories was the “set up”: I indulged in creating complex situations why I (or my clone character) would receive a spanking. I focused on the “before” since the actual spanking scene was almost always the same and I didn’t really have much sense of an “after.” The spanking ended and the story stopped being interesting. 
While making up stories about ways in which a clever girl like myself could get into trouble and be spanked was quite fun, I eventually grew bored of the repetition. It was from this boredom that I first began to create interesting characters to provide the spankings.
It was at this point that I invented an interesting character to deliver spankings, and it was also around this time that the stuff I was making up became truly memorable.The first character I created was a male teacher. I don’t remember what his original name was, but it was something rather silly–– I was not good at making up names. At first, I focused on school and education as themes in my stories and fantasies very strongly when I was young because I had an unsatisfactory home life and I very much saw the world in terms of a home/school binary. Plus, I was heavily addicted to reading and loved, as I still do, almost all parts of academia. The Teacher was friendly and fun, but became instantly serious when the occasion arose. It was in the stories involving this character that I first associated caring or affection with spanking: The Teacher lead his class with a heavy hand, but it was out of a sense of some sort of love and a desire for what was best for a girl like me. He spanked me and the other girls firmly but fairly, and always with a somber attitude of regretting having to punish us at all. 
The second Top character that developed came from a rather old idea of mine: as a child, I wanted to grow up to be the assistant of an Evil Genius. I’m not *entirely* sure where this whole thing started, but I’m sure it has to do with the fact that I spent a considerable amount of time reading comic books as a girl. I’ve always enjoyed the dark, brooding characters, and I love the idea of finding a way to worm my way into the heart that they so long denied existed. I imagined going to work for some Evil Genius who was bitter and mean and hell-bent on taking over the world. Why? Because he’s Evil! (This fantasy clearly arose before I came to a full understanding of antagonist motivations in many of the works that I enjoyed.) The Evil Genius didn’t like me at first, and he was frequently mean to me on purpose because that’s what Evil people did for fun. Over time, after I worked hard and withstood his torments, he came to care about me, and maybe even admit it every once in a while. 
I don’t know why it took me as long as it did to incorporate spanking into The Evil Genius Fantasy, but once I did, it worked perfectly. While The Teacher was very serious and sad to have to punish a girl, The Evil Genius set me up to fail in order to have an excuse to punish me harshly and then delighted in it. He teased me and tempted me and when I gave in, he took great joy in spanking me until I cried and screamed. I didn’t realize it at the time, of course, but what I had found in this fantasy was Sadism, and my desire to be on the receiving end of it. 
During these years I had a nagging guilt and sense of shame when indulging in creating these spanking fantasies, but I was still young enough that I didn’t really worry about things too much. I did not, however, believe that I would ever actually receive a spanking. In the same way that I knew that Professor Xavier was never going to show up at my home, explain to my mother that I was a mutant and then whisk me away for training at his School for Gifted Youngsters, I was quite positive that men like The Teacher and The Evil Genius did not exist in the world and that the Spankingland of my fantasies was just as unreal as one filled with telekinetics, winged men and girls who shot fireworks from their fingertips. It didn’t stop me from wishing for spankings on every shooting star and birthday cake candle, though.