Yesterday, I posted about how I relate to the origin and history of the BDSM community. Today, I want to start a series of posts that will explore my personal origins and history as a spanko. To begin this adventure, we have to go all the way back to the beginning of my existence: my oldest brother recently told me that when I was just two years old, he saw me spanking my stuffed animals while playing with them. I don’t think I even remember being two, but I remember thinking about spanking and playing pretends that involved spanking from as early as I can remember: probably around the time that I was three.
Having two older brothers, until I went to school and made a couple of female friends I generally engaged in two kinds of play: I either rough-housed with the boys as much as I was welcome or I played alone in my bedroom with my toys. It was during this time when I was alone and isolated (since my bedroom was the only one on that floor of the house) that I engaged in acting out my spanking fantasies. I always looked around to make sure that no one had snuck into the room to observe me before I flipped a doll or stuffed animal across my lap and smacked its bottom. Stuffed animals were more fun for me to spank because I didn’t have to worry about breaking them or making a strange noise, but dolls came with the added excitement of flipping up skirts and pulling down panties.
|This particular bear spent a lot of time over my lap when I was a girl.|
When I first started toy-spanking, there was no pretend, no roleplay and no details. I simply grabbed a toy and began to spank. As I grew older and I acquired a few Barbies, I began to create story lines and situations involving reoccurring characters. The spankings that my Barbies gave each other (and sometimes my other toys) were punitive: they occurred because of some silly doll offensive and included scolding, which I only expressed in my mind for fear of being overheard, and on occasion, corner time.There’s something about remembering this which fascinates me: I grew up in a household where no corporal punishment was used. I don’t even know how I became aware of spanking. I’ve almost felt as if I was born with basic spanking knowledge. When I first spanked my toys as a three year old, I held them across my lap and bared their bottoms. Within a year or so, I was putting Barbies in corners. I’d never been sent to a corner before. I interacted extremely little with the media and I have no memory of ever seeing a spanking scene in a movie. The only book I remember including spanking was “Bedtime for Francis,” in which the spanking was only threatened and therefore it did not include an illustration. Yet I knew all these things, quite a few of the details that would remain important and near to my heart for the rest of my spanking life, before I began to interact with children outside my family.
The most logical answer to this question is that I somehow learned these things, through a story told by a family friend maybe, or some book that I do not remember, earlier than I can remember. Whatever it was, I don’t believe that it created this fascination and desire in me. The potency with which spanking began to occupy my mind, even when I was so young, suggests to me that it awakened something that was laying dormant in me (but only lay for a very short time). This is a large part of the reason why I find my identity as a spanko so core to my general sense of self: I remember a time before I knew most of the things about myself. I can even vaguely remember not being able to read (I learned to read at a basic level when I was three), yet I can’t remember a time before spanking mattered to me.
Another aspect of my relationship to spanking which was, unfortunately, part of my life from the very beginning was embarrassment and shame. I knew that I toy-spanking was something that was only to be engaged in when I was alone, and I felt a sense of guilt and an idea that I was in someway strange or wrong for indulging in my thoughts. There was no time when I was without the heavy burden that my spanking desires were in some way immoral, harmful, dark or just plain wrong. The struggle to combat these feelings and accept myself began in my early childhood, and would come to be a defining feature of my experience as a spanko for many years.