My last post in the series of entries outlining my history as a spanko ended with me being about twelve years old and entering into my first dating relationship. While my thoughts about myself as a spanko were still dark and bleak, I was feeling slightly better about the world in general due to my new found emotional closeness with my first girlfriend. The rest of my twelfth year was fairly positive in other areas: I came to know myself in ways I had never before, and I began to see how it would be possible for me to have a place in the world.
Unfortunately, that is where the positivity stops for some time. I am not going to write much about the years when I was thirteen through sixteen. Suffice to say, I had some serious life issues that took my mind off my desire to be spanked. My focus was on simply getting through the day alive. That’s not to say that my spanking desires entirely disappeared: only at the very lowest point of my life, when I was about sixteen, did I reach a point where I simply did not care about anything superfluous to my survival, and spanking fell into that category. Still, when my situation improved a few months later, the daydreams and fantasies returned as if they had never left.
When I was seventeen, I first saw Serious_Face in the public library. He was, it turns out, twenty eight at the time, but he just seemed “kinda old” to me. He was working on some sort of research and had a lot of his personal books and papers spread out all over a table in the History section. I was originally fascinated by his stuff: his books were mainly older and leather bound. He had fancy pens and elegant folders for his papers. He had an air of class surrounding him that I’d never before observed. I did what any person would do when such an interesting person entered his or her world: I started stalking him mercilessly.
I realized fairly quickly that he was of English origin, which made him even more interesting to me, especially because of my long time obsession with Boy. I went to the library far more often and found myself sitting at a table adjacent to his, but getting very little reading done. He generally wore a long sleeved, button up shirt with a tie, and before he began to write, he would unbutton the cuff on his right hand and neatly roll the sleeve up, presumably to prevent ink from getting on his shirt. It sent serious shivers through my body and left me more interested in daydreaming than reading.
After two or three months of this (seriously!) I got up the courage to start talking to him. I asked him some mundane, academic questions and he answered them, then went off on long-winded historical lectures. He liked to talk and I liked to listen to him: we became fast friends. By the end of the next month, I was hanging out with him and his wife outside of the library. Eventually, I started to go over to their house pretty regularly.
Serious_Face’s house fascinated me. I lacked a lot of social skills when I was young, and I spent a lot of time just standing around staring at his stuff. I stood in front of his shelves reading book titles, and I smelled all the spices in his pantry. One day, when he was downstairs and I was looking at books in his study, I took my exploration a little too far and began to open the drawers in his desk. Tucked away behind a bunch of mundane papers and things was a heavy, leather strap. I turned beet red and slammed the drawer shut, feeling for a moment like I might pass out. Clearly, it had to be for something else. There was no way that it was for… that thing. I found myself too nervous to even think the word “spanking.”
Originally, I intended to never mention it again. I was clearly reading something into it that wasn’t there. That was all there was to it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, though: it was like suddenly discovering an artifact in someone’s home that suggested that magic might be real. Over time, I noticed little thing: the way that he looked at his wife when she was annoying him and the way that she shied under his gaze, the way that she occasionally sat down very carefully, the thick, ebony hairbrush on her dresser, even a small blister on the palm of his right hand. It took me months of quiet observation, but I finally decided to bring it up.
It was, hands down, the most awkward conversation of my life. I was sweating and shaking with fear and embarrassment. In order to do this, I not only had to approach something extremely personal head-on, but I had to say the word “spanking” aloud: something I had only done a handful of times in my entire life. Still, my desire to know if maybe there was a way for me to have that which I had always wanted was stronger than my fear and lack of self confidence. I was able to get through the conversation, and I found out that yes, he and his wife were into spanking. We talked about DD and accountability, about the physical side of how things were done, in his experience, and about the fact that there were other people in the world into spanking besides me, him and his wife. Then, making myself more emotionally vulnerable than I’d ever been in my life, I asked him to spank me.
He said no. At the time, it was the worst possible thing I could have heard. Now, I greatly appreciate it: I was only seventeen. He told me he would not engage with a minor that way. Thus began the waiting game. During this time, I started to use the internet to look at spanking sites a little bit, although I didn’t ever delve too deeply into that. I was so overwhelmed with excitement that one chapter of a spanking story could hold my attention for a week. The world of my fantasies was real. I was simultaneously overjoyed and petrified. I never made an account on any website. I never went on a message board. I never posted a story that I wrote. I lurked, feeling certain that even if S_F eventually did spank me, I’d never want to take my “kink” (as I had just started to think of it) any further than that. As I waited, my life changed more: I went away to college that January, where I grew and learned and matured even more. With the idea of DD in my mind, I found myself craving structure and discipline, but I tried my best to give it to myself. I set my standards high and put all my effort into their achievement.
On the day of my eighteenth birthday, I saw S_F and asked him if now that I was of age, he’d be willing to spank me. Being a cruel and awful man, he told me that he wanted to wait until he had more free time and we were both in the right “headspace” for it. So I kept waiting. It took another month and two days.
|I looked a bit different when I was 18, huh?|
[To be continued]