Coming Out About Spanking

There’s a nice column in Salon by a serious spanko who learned, pretty much the hard way, that he had to come out to his new girlfriend about spanking. Here’s how it went for him:

Six weeks after we started dating, I told Emily my secret.

We were in bed, still in those heady, lust-filled days of a new relationship. I really liked her, suspected that I might even love her, which meant I had to tell her the truth about myself. She sat up to listen, and I trailed my fingers over her thigh, eyes down, nervous as a teenager. I was 30 years old and for the first time in my life I was going to tell a girlfriend that I wanted to spank her. No, not wanted to, needed to. And I knew that telling her might mean the immediate death of our relationship, but I also knew we’d never be perfect together unless I looked into her pretty blue eyes and told this sweet, innocent, beautiful woman that I had a spanking fetish.

Let me clarify something: I’m not “into” spanking the way you might be “into” Celine Dion or “The Bourne Identity.” Spanking is a part of my psyche, an essential element of my sexuality. It’s not like slavering over cheerleaders, or fantasizing about sex on the beach at sunset. When I was a kid I used to look up the word “spanking” in the dictionary, and I got a visceral thrill when I saw a spanking scene on “Little House on the Prairie” or “I Love Lucy.”

I [had] never told any of my girlfriends about my fetish, although I often made clumsy attempts to engage in spanking play. If they let me, I landed a few gentle slaps to the bottom until I got a curled lip and, “That’s just weird. You don’t really want to hurt me, do you?”

I didn’t, no. Not really, not unless she wanted it, too, and none of them did. The closest I came to telling anyone was Jennifer, the girl I dated right before Emily. She told me it was sick and made me see a psychotherapist who, I found out later, labeled me in her notes as a sexual sadist. Another heaping of shame from my girlfriend, and a horrifying diagnosis from a professional. You can see why I kept this to myself.

As time went by, I did find comfort in knowing there were others like me, but as I sat on Emily’s bed, they all seemed irrelevant because she wasn’t a spanko. I knew that for sure. As with every girl I met, I’d dropped hints, used the word “spanking” to get a reaction. I’d gotten none from her. The only question now was whether she’d call me a freak and kick me out.

I took a deep breath and told her.

I spoke for a while, explaining that I didn’t understand why, that the why didn’t even matter anymore. Spanking was a massive part of my sexuality, and that was something she needed to know. When I finished, she furrowed her brow.

“Spanking is a thing? A sexy thing?” she asked. When I nodded, she paused for a moment. “OK, I’ll give it a try.”

That was 14 years ago. We married a year later, and our sex life today would shock the neighbors. Once or twice, when we’ve forgotten to close the bedroom window, I suspect it has. It’s not been plain sailing, though, and this isn’t the end of the story because a kink is a powerful beast. The hardest thing has not been the play; when turned on, Emily can take an almighty spanking, and a caning that would make an English schoolboy squeal. She likes it so much that we now call her “vanilla, with sprinkles.”

Nice to see one of these accounts that has a happy ending!

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  1. Eric Carwardine commented on September 10th, 2013:

    ” … because a kink is a powerful beast.”

    Oh, the wisdom in that! Once the connection is made you’re hard-wired for life, I believe.

    But there can be a downside. I see it particularly amongst the ‘baby-boomers’ (people born between 1946 and 1964). Many of them now have such significant profiles in sensitive areas of society that even attending a munch is out of the question. Unless they have a compliant partner domiciled with them their deprivation can be agonisingly acute. Pre-paid mobile (cell) phones are the only medium they have that doesn’t leave a paper-trail. But who can they phone? How do they become part of a network without making that one incautious action that will have a voracious world slavering all over them.

    Next time you drive down a street of a leafy, tree-lined suburb, with stately homes set well back from the roadway, your gaze might settle on the closed curtains, behind the closed windows. For there, emerging from its lair into the only privacy it is ever likely to know, might be the beast that is immortal.

  2. Spankings of the Week - commented on September 13th, 2013:

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  3. Renee Rose commented on September 13th, 2013:

    Aw, thanks for posting this– I just love reading about spankos coming out happily, especially in mainstream pubs. :)

  4. W commented on September 29th, 2013:

    I wish the Salon article was as concise as you’ve made it here. I get that their relationship works for them perfectly, but if it was more monogamous, it would be the perfect thing to send to a significant other.

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