I’ve been living with some persistent urinary tract infections for several months now. It’s baffling the doctors who have both run a CT scan and done a cystoscopy but find nothing to explain the relentless number of bacterial visitors for which I’m now taking antibiotics for the foreseeable future. What really sucks is that it really hurts. Like someone driving a nail through the base of my spine. You know, just above where normally I’d get spanked.
As sparkle mentioned in the last post, we had someone email us recently asking if we all really get spanked. Of course, the answer is yes, for whatever reasons of emotional and sexual expression we might have. But for the first time in my life, I can totally see the world from that emailer’s perspective.
Why on earth would I want someone to hit me with a belt or a cane or a hairbrush? Why, why, why would somebody do that? Why would I let them — nay, seek them out?!
Now, ordinarily when I’m getting spanked, I rarely like it (though, yeah, there are a few exceptions). The appeal is usually the concept. One of the most core, intimate pieces of me is part child mixed in with the intelligent, mature woman. Punishment for real life things is a way of connecting to both of those at the very same time in which a type of fusion is created that is about as close to nuclear fusion we can get on a human level.
Or at least, normally it works like that. Except for the last few weeks, the concept has had no appeal to me.
Not. At. All.
As my boyfriend, A., and I cuddled last night, I said it was like someone has stolen my spanko-mojo.
We both chuckled awkwardly. And sighed. He rubbed my back and cuddled me some more.
But as the night went on, a little tiny bit of that child-part thought again.
"Well, maybe you could make me write lines or something," I said later as we drifted off to sleep.
"Yeah. I could make you wear your school uniform (which I don’t really have yet) and write lines…" A. began.
And the appeal of the concept came back a bit.
So, maybe I still have my punishment-mojo…