One of the most common reasons for the development of a spanking fetish is, I believe, experiences from childhood. This seems especially true for childhood games. Kids get together and devise games recreating family scenes with a “mommy” or “daddy” in charge, or they play “school” with a “strict teacher” in charge. Penalties and forfeits are common, and spankings are among the most common of these. It’s powerful psychological imprinting and leaves lasting memories that often morph into full blown fantasies later in our adult sexual development.
Here is a story by an author known simply as “Robert.” I have no other information. It describes interaction with an older female friend who was obviously enamored of dispensing spankings to younger playmates. She appears to have enjoyed the dominant role, and young “Robert” seemed more than willing to be on the other end of the stick, as it were. This is how it happens and grows into a full blown sexual kink later in life. How many of you out there have had friends like Meg?
Illustrations by Sassy
Meg by Robert
Girls are dangerous. Really they are. They grow up faster than boys and are much more ‘advanced’. Much, much more advanced. Small boys learn over their mother’s knee that the female of the species was put on earth to control, organize, discipline and punish wayward males but small girls know it instinctively. Meg was no exception. She was a couple of years my senior but, there being no-one of her age around, she condescended to accept me as her friend. Her subordinate friend. Meg would play with me provided she decided what the games would be and what the rules were. It was not long before she demonstrated that other characteristic of girls, their innate right to spank small boys and their ability to convince the ‘culprit’ that he must submit to her spanking.
I admit to being totally under Meg’s thrall on that never to be forgotten occasion when she first told me that I deserved to have my bottom smacked. Yes, she used that intimidating and oh so personal phrase. I was in no position to resist, perhaps I didn’t want to resist, but before I knew it I was across her knee, staring at the floor and subject to confused emotions of fear and delight. If girls have, as they undoubtedly do, the inborn need to enforce discipline, so boys, or at least boys like me, have the need, perhaps even desire, to be disciplined. So I was spanked for the very first time. Fully clothed, the spanking did not hurt, perhaps it hurt her hand more than my bottom but, when it was over, I lay there flushed and strangely excited. “That will be our little secret,” she said.
So began a regime which I came to accept and even, with a frisson of emotions, to look forward to. I sensed that it was not within the rules for me to admit to her that I enjoyed her attentions and certainly I was not ever to initiate the business. Part of the thrill was not knowing when Meg might spank me, I enjoyed the knowledge that, at any time, she might decide to and when she did so decide I knew I had to submit. We never discussed my punishment as a ‘game’, although clearly it was, but rather Meg treated the whole process as the ‘real thing’. I was the naughty boy who needed to be taught a lesson in the only way naughty boys understood, and she was a girl with the power to inflict that most deliciously intimate of punishments.
It was not long before Meg decided I deserved something more severe. She told me, as she was wont to do, that she was going to smack my bottom and added, in a very strict tone of voice, that she was going to take my trousers down for it. I trembled with anticipation and stood meekly by her side as she undid my belt and unbuttoned my fly. The thrill of feeling Meg give my trousers a little tug was so intense. They fell away and settled in a crumpled heap around my ankles. “Now,” said Meg “across my knee with you,” and over I went. She allowed me a few moments to experience, relish even, the feeling of vulnerability as I lay over her knee protected only by my underpants. “Let this be a lesson to you,” she said and began to spank. Oh, it felt wonderful, I could feel her hand through the thin fabric of my pants, the sound of her smacks was so much crisper without the muffling effect of my flannel shorts and my bottom soon began to sting. It was a long, hard smacking and I began to squirm and gasp with the smarting of my bottom. “Keep still or it will be worse for you” she snapped and I made myself submit and lie still. Meg spanked me soundly and when, at last, it was over and I rose stiffly from her lap I was more than somewhat chastened. I rubbed my bottom ruefully and said “That hurt.”. “Of course it did” she said “And if I ever have to do that again it will hurt even more. Now pull up your trousers and behave yourself”.
As I lay in bed that night, stroking my bottom and relishing the thrilling memory of my spanking I knew there was at least one more refinement I longed for. I had to wait. For the time being Meg was satisfied with the knowledge that she could, when she felt like it, smack me with my trousers down. Sometimes, when my misdemeanor did not warrant ‘trousers down’ she would smack me fully clothed and I freely admit to disappointment on such occasions. But usually, now, they came down. She would make me stand submissively while she undressed me or, equally intimidating, she would order “Take your trousers down.”. I say ‘equally intimidating’, well perhaps it was more so to have to take them down myself under her baleful gaze. If I was not quick enough she would nag me, “Come on, boy, get those trousers down this minute or do I have to do it for you?” I was, and I thrilled at the knowledge, totally hers to do with as she wished.
One day Meg introduced a new dimension to our ‘play’ and it was a dimension I had not envisaged. She produced her wooden hairbrush. “We’ll see whether this will make you behave, shall we?” she said “Get across my knee.” It was more than a little trepidation that I settled into that oh so familiar position and tensed my bottom in anticipation. She had not made me take my trousers down and I suppose I thought, in my innocence, that it would not hurt all that much. I was so wrong. The sound of the smacks was muffled by my trousers but Meg laid that brush on with a will and it was no time before I was squealing and struggling. I reached round and tried to cover my blazing bottom with my hand but Meg was not putting up with that. “Take your hand away, I haven’t finished with you” “0h, please, Meg” I, for the very first time begged her to stop. She did not. Meg lifted my hand from my bottom and placed it on the small of my back. “I will not tolerate such cowardly behavior” she said “You must learn to behave or take your punishment. Now lie still.” That was quite the hardest smacking I had ever received and somehow I knew there was more to come.
There was one further dimension. Yes, you’ve guessed. The ultimate sanction to which the dominant female can make her subservient male submit is, of course, the bare bottom. Meg had been working up to this and I know I had given the prospect more than a passing thought during our relationship. It came out of the blue as it were and took me by surprise. She had the hairbrush in her hand as she led me to my spanking so I knew it was to be severe. I had not guessed just how severe. As I stood by her side awaiting the instruction to get ready for spanking I looked balefully at that hairbrush. I felt her undoing my trousers and pulling them down. I felt the familiar tremble as the cool air told me my trousers were down and I began to get into place. “Just a minute” said Meg “Don’t be so keen.” Puzzled, I stood up again and gasped with genuine alarm as I felt her hands on the waistband of my underpants. “We’ll have these down” she said. “Oh, no.” I yelped but I knew it was to no avail. Slowly, tantalizingly slowly, as if she was relishing every moment, Meg slipped her hands round my waist and into the top of my pants. She eased them down, her hands sliding over the tensed curves of my buttocks, and bared my bottom. I clasped my hands before me in an attempt to preserve my modesty but Meg, who had two brothers, snapped “Don’t be silly. You’ve got nothing there I’ve not seen before and it’s your behind I’m interested in.” I gave in as usual. She completed my preparations by pulling my pants to my knees and told me to get into place. I obeyed.
So the ultimate spanking. The hairbrush and a bare bottom. I lay quietly across my playmate’s lap. My heart was thumping with anticipation of the unknown and I relished the feeling of total vulnerability, total submission, as the cool air wafted over my bare buttocks. Meg made me wait. She tormented me by running the cool, hard back of her hairbrush over my bottom and, no doubt, enjoyed seeing it flinch. “Now then. said Meg in her best grown up voice. I heard it before I felt it. A crisp whack then the most remarkable sensation across both cheeks. That hurt and I yelled with the shock of it. “Be quiet, you silly boy” said my friend and proceeded, as I lay still, to deliver a good two dozen stingingly hard strokes which left me tearful, panting and thoroughly satisfied. My bottom throbbed and my head spun. As I lay there I was delighted to feel Meg’s cool hand caress my blazing cheeks as she murmured “There, there now. All over and you won’t be a naughty boy again, will you?” “No, Meg” I croaked.
We were, of course, skating on very thin ice. I doubt whether it occurred to either of us what our parents would think were they to find out about our game. We did not think we were doing anything wrong and yet I at least admit to a certain feeling of guilt. Well, we were soon to find out what our parents, or Meg’s mum anyway, thought about it.
I was having my very favorite spanking from Meg. Bare bottom, of course, and her hand. Very sweet and intimate. It didn’t sting as much as the hair brush, of course, but the feel of my friend’s hand on my bare bottom was quite, quite delicious. We were in our own little world of discipline, smack, smack, smack, my bottom was warming nicely when we heard the click of Mrs. Wendover’s heels down the passage and the door opening. We froze. “What on earth do you think you are up to?” and we were in it up to our necks. I will not dwell on the scolding Meg received other than to tell you it included the phrase ” …. smack your bare bottom here and now.” For me? “Get yourself dressed at once. I shall telephone your mother and tell her and I’m sure she’ll have a word or two to say when you get home. But first, Meg, take down your knickers.”
Meg’s spanking excited me more than I can say. Seeing girls having their bottoms smacked was endlessly fascinating to a boy of my interests, and Meg’s spanking not only excited me, it terrified me. She did not argue or plead. She did not even object to my presence. Meg was a broken reed, she hoisted her skirts and, quite unashamedly, allowed me a view of her pink flowered knickers with the lacy trim round the legs. As she pulled then down I gazed at her oh, so pretty little bottom. All round and firm and creamy white. She went over the knee smoothly and lay there, her hands clutching her mother’s left thigh and her legs down the other side. When her mum lifted her skirts Meg uttered a little moan or sigh of regret and anticipation. Her bottom, now all ready for smacking, flinched endearingly. She turned her head and her pretty face, framed with long blonde curls, was flushed but calm. She looked at me and mouthed “I’m sorry”. Meg turned away as she received her first smack. Her bottom wobbled and bounced under the stroke and a gasp of pain escaped her lips. A little red flush spread over both cheeks. I felt somewhat sick as I was obliged to watch smack after smack after stinging smack. Meg squirmed and kicked and howled, tears pouring down her face and, as her bottom reddened she shrieked “I’m sorry, mummy, I didn’t know”. I stood transfixed and watched with an icy lump in my stomach. When eventually, it was over Meg hung across the knee and wept. Her pretty bottom was now red and enflamed with angry purple marks some of which had spilled over onto her thighs as she kicked and struggled. Although excited I also began to weep at the sight of such abject humiliation.
“You may go home now and I shall telephone your mother” said Meg’s mum “I shall tell her of your little games and I’m sure she’ll want to teach you that a smacked bottom is no fun at all. You will not be welcome in my house, you bad, bad boy. Now, off with you ”
Full of dread and shame I went home. Yes, of course I was punished, soundly punished, but, you know, even after all these years, I am a grown man now, my memories of Meg’s regime are close to my heart and can still cause my bottom to twitch. I never met her like again.