A Spanko Goes To Folsom
Zille Defeu writes about going to this year’s Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco. I’m quoting this bit because I strongly agree with her perspective on spanking’s place in the broader BDSM community:
You might say to yourself, “If Zille is as much out-of-the-dungeon-and-into-the-schoolroom as she claims, why does she keep going to these BDSM events?” It’s a fair question.
To me, BDSM includes spanking. I know some spankos don’t much like that idea, but the whole point of BDSM is to be an overarching umbrella of all things non-vanilla. And you really do have to admit that spanking is simply not “vanilla sex” – although more power to the people who are vanilla, but like the occasional slap on the bottom to spice things up.
Some spankos would like to say that their world is totally different from the BDSM one. And it’s true, that many spankos would not feel comfy in a dungeon. But “BDSM” is not just a bunch of people chaining each other up in a dungeon – it’s a community, and it’s a community that welcomes spankos as part of the kinky rainbow of tastes and preferences. (Before someone brings it up: any snotty BDSMer who sneers that spankos are not serious about their kink should get a dozen “of the best” from the cane before they are allowed to finish their sentence. Or just six, if they can’t take it!)
Anyway, the place to really prove that BDSM is inclusive beyond all doubt is the Folsom Street Fair. You get bear-like leathermen wearing nothing but harnesses and boots, finding a corner to make their “boys” kneel down and get pissed upon. You find human “ponies” with butt-plug tails, pulling their latex-clad Mistresses in carts down the street. (This year there was a full human dog-sled team. It was awesome!) You find gorgeous drag-queens of any sexuality and preference. You find leather-dykes with their tattooed breasts proudly bared, strutting dangerously down the street. You find adorable little twinks in glittery jock-straps. You even find naked vanilla people who might be nudists or swingers or some combination thereof, just running around enjoying the freedom and energy.
And you find spankos. You might have to look a bit harder to see them: with all the dark sheen of leather, high-gloss of latex, and shimmer of glitter getting in your eyes (often literally), it’s harder to see the classic schoolgirl and schoolboy uniforms. With all that flesh jingling around, the ones who are demurely covered up don’t catch the eye as easily – unless you are really into that sort of thing, in which case you might not notice the naked frolickers at all, but not miss the slightest glimpse of tartan or grey pleat.
However, as my grandma once quavered at me (this is totally a lie): “Sonny Boy, they may come to your blog for the BDSM identity politics, but they stay for the caning and the kinky anal sex.” Here’s Zille on what she did after the fair:
I was told I could try and get out of it with a blowjob, but of course the blowjob wasn’t good enough to suit him, and I had to try and breathe my way through 18 strokes of the cane. (I had thought he was just going to do 12. When he started in on the 13th one, my thoughts when like this: “Oh SHIT, another six?! Oh noooo–!”)
Then, the anal sex. (I love typing that!) Because, you know, girls who dress in that much blinding pink really do deserve anything they get! It had been a long time, and it really hurt. There was a point when he was first pushing inside me when I thought I might have to beg him to stop, tell him I just couldn’t take it. I made it though, and my reward came later, as he was pounding hard into me and I lost control and screamed out, “Oh my god, it hurts so much and I’m coming so hard!” (And, of course, being me, it’s that first bit, the part that hurt more than anything, which I will be masturbating about for a long time to come!)
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