The Understanding - A Spanking Study

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The Understanding

A spanking story

He felt that she understood that this was something he had always needed; but he hadn't known how to get his needs met.

As a boy, right through his teens, he never had experienced the special kind of physical intimacy that he had required. From his toddler years when his mother had so completely vanquished him in the 'battle of the potty," he had always felt ashamed and embarrassed when thinking about his bottom. And it was his bottom too that had been the focus of his irrational fear of chastisement --something he actually never had experienced. The specter of being punished there --on his bottom; to be spanked on his bare behind-- had frightened him so as a boy; it came to represent not only harshness but the loss of love as well.

Yet, paradoxically, there remained embedded deep within his psyche a hidden kernel of repressed desire --a desire to experience physical intimacy in a unique and special way; he wanted to feel accepted, to feel loved, to be taught, guided, trained, and yes, lovingly corrected. And what was more astonishing, he instinctively knew that there was a right way to achieve this. It turned out that, as he matured, these real but repressed desires slowly became more unconstrained and he began to gain a clear understanding that all of these almost indefinable needs were connected to his bottom; he craved some "attention" there.

It would have been comical but it was a real, unmistakable need that was beginning to take shape. Finally, after years of searching, he found himself where he knew he was meant to be; he was exposing his bottom to a loving woman's gaze.

He is submitting his bare bottom to her control and his long neglected behind is about to be taken in hand. Initially, he experiences the invasive but gentle purging irrigation of his bottom. He offers, and she accepts control over, that most private and intimate part of his being. His rear globes blossom open for her inspection; his bottom is more vulnerable than ever. She knows that filling and purging his behind will trigger the most fundamental and basic of his emotions.

The brown-crinkle pucker of his rear opening gives way to the slow careful insertion of the all-conquering nozzle. There is instantaneous age regression.
For him, hers is a maternal act. Lovingly and thoughtfully she stimulates his bottom, helping him to experience this naturalness and wholesomeness of submitting his behind to her.

Now, she supervises this usually private aspect of his being. She knows that it is there, deep within his sweet, naughty, and redolent behind that he is forever a boy. And, like a young colt, lifting his tail, he presents his spread buttocks to her ministrations. She "takes" him there -- in this secret place. The satisfying, sodomizing enema fills him and thrills him. She assists him on the toilet, and afterwards, she inspects him to insure that he has been "tidy." He is grateful for her warmth and encouragement.

But this is only one aspect of his "purging." To perfect it, he needs to experience a ritual, but real, chastisement on his bare behind. He is upended, presenting to her his now cleansed behind. He feels the secure, warm, instructive sensations of her sturdy open palm and the leather paddle-strap walloping down across his bottom's divide. For him, the power to act freely temporarily is suspended; he feels ready to receive the love and care --the bare-bottomed discipline--which he craves.
It is important that he receive it THERE--on his naked, naughty behind--on what as a boy he had called his heinie--he needs those feelings to be imparted to that most intimate part of his being.

He feels the spanking increase in tempo and intensity. It hurts, but it is a good, wholesome hurt --a kind of healthy, natural bottom-pain. The spanking begins to do its work.

Oh, yes, the tears come, representing a variety of emotions --relief at finally experiencing what his body (and soul) had obviously need, relief (and joy) that someone cares enough to bestow this intimate disciplinary gift upon his needy behind. Hard fast spanks clap and smack loudly throughout the room; her hand brusquely wallops his rump in a flurry of furious spanks. Then, she (and he) finds the leather paddle-strap.

As a child, the idea of getting such a "licking" had been most frightening. But now he actually feels that his rump is ready --he wants to be tanned. His red-spanked bottom soars up, lewdly, seeking the searing comfort of the supple leather. She does not disappoint, lathering and humbling his proud, sensual rump until he actually hears himself begin to bawl. Hot tears flow as he sobs. His licking serves to poignantly cleanse his spirit. His behind is all matters now. And that seems right and proper. His cheeks burn with sincere, unaffected, natural fulfillment as they absorb this "licking of love."

He feels at-one with himself. At once, he is one and many. He is the sweetly naughty, mischievous boy who needs to have his heinie warmed; he is the, virginal young-man who obediently offers up his bare bottom for condign correction; and he is the sensual adult-man whose lusty rump hungers for attention. It is his behind, which embodied all of these personas.

This loving discipline continues and he feels his rump cheeks spread wide, opening involuntarily in a lusty invitation to the flailing leather. The paddle-strap finds the sensitive stained inner slopes of his bottom-crack and even his pouting anal bud is stung. He feels as if all of his old taboos are broken and that he is released. The mystery of his behind unfolds and his repression melts away. At this moment, his bottom is an accepted part of his sexuality--of his manhood.

Nevertheless, all of these emotions and realizations emerge in the context of his being given an authentic, old-fashioned, bottom-burning, naughty-boy licking. His red-crimson bottom wiggles and danced, weave to-and-fro as the all-punishing leather lands again and again, always smacking its brand of searing love across the plump base of his soulful male seat.

In all his punished glory, he howls out his bottom's pain-filled ecstasy. This is the licking he had feared, the licking he had needed, and the licking he had wanted. All of his repressed anger and frustration, his remorse, his loneliness, his petulance and his uncertainty--all this and much, much more are being resolved. And too, he is aroused, feeling lustier than he has in years, even as he wails out his bare-bottomed spanking song.

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Comments

Spanking

The Anal penetration is too far round the bend for me, however I understand the need for a spanking very well. Those I experienced as a child were done in full harshness and anger by a stepfather who was himself extremely troubled and later led to a diagnosis of PTSD.

He vented his own pain and frustration on me several times a week until I was about 14, when I tried to kill him with a hatchet. Thankfully I did not harm him and he took the weapon from me. He never tried to beat me again.

The reasons for his beatings I think were often due to his own frustration with life, but he would also say things like I acted like a girl, or I did not act like a man. He never said I did a good job on any thing, and my mother was mostly absent while working to support the family. There was no affection in our family but now nearing the end of my own life, I know that mom did her best.

Later in life, searching for "my people", I happened upon a man at a Kink event North of Vancouver, Washington who was totally naked and offering spankings. The price of admission to that event was to remove all my clothes, which I did save for my panties. I must have been post op at the time and was still very shy. My breasts were budding nicely.

He asked me to lay on my face to start, and I did. Key here is that he started off with a cane and was very gentle. About every 10th strike, he would hit just hard enough to sting a little. After a while he shifted to various instruments and various tempos and I eventually fell asleep except when he asked me to move or something.

It was never sexual, but only about being spanked which somehow became affection in the deepest part of my soul. His ministrations lasted for an hour or more.

When he finished, he coached me about what would happen in the next couple of weeks. He said that when I sat down it would hurt a little and I would giggle. He told me that I would waken in the morning or in the middle of the night, think of it and giggle and that during the day I would think of it and smile. He said this would last only about two weeks, and sadly it diminished after that to the point that I rarely think of it. Even today, I think of that experience with fondness. My subsequent efforts to find another "spanking" have proven fruitless.

I will always be thankful for that experience.

Gwen

Needing So Badly To Be Spanked, But Too Afraid To Say So

By my mother and my oldest sister, I was only ever threatened with spankings growing up. Even at age 14, when I'd been recklessly playing with matches (setting paper airplanes on fire in the basement), and the house subsequently caught fire (though not officially blamed on me, but still, my naughtiness was known), by rights I should've been soundly spanked across my mother's knee, but I never got so much as a smack.

In the previous year, I'd begun secretly paddling and strapping my bare bottom, most often in my parents' bedroom where the mirrors could be arranged to give me a perfect view of my reddening backside. The sting from a hard spanking soon had the addictive effect of a narcotic on my system. Many times, I'd stand and pull up my pants after having lain over a hassock for a paddling, only to realize I wanted more. As ashamed as I routinely felt after spanking and masturbating, I also knew I was thoroughly hooked.

It was as a 14-year-old that my mother privately confronted me one day with a certain paperback (I believe it was "Spanking and the Single Girl") I'd forgotten in the bathroom. To my face, she asked me if I felt I'd "missed out by never getting a bare bottom spanking." She had to have known the only honest answer was yes, but she had enough qualms about spanking me (she'd had her own spanking fantasies as a girl...dominant ones) that she just couldn't take the bull by the horns and get it done. And I didn't have nearly enough of the necessary nerve to invite the very spanking I constantly dreamed of getting - pants-down across my mother's lap as she spanked my bare bottom to a stinging rosy red, shaming me to tears. Instead, I was simply told to "stop being silly."

I did eventually become submissively acquainted with female laps, starting at age 28 with the girl I married. After 13 years together, she divorced me, but I still had plenty of bare bottom spankings awaiting me from obliging women in the business of punishing naughty boys. As I've so often said, I'm sure I would've had to invent spanking if it hadn't already existed.