I was having a conversation on Twitter recently with a friend who mentioned the fun of a first spanking. Of course, many firsts are special – the first kiss, first love, first heart break…
The first girl I ever spanked was a vanilla who happened to like me enough and was adventurous enough to try it. I was junior in college and she was a few years younger. After a few dates and long phone conversations, I reached that point where I felt comfortable enough to tell her about my desires to spank women. She had feminist leanings and so was uncertain at first about whether she would try it, but I think she reached a point where she trusted my respect of women and she could be sure that it wasn’t about generally punishing women or being hateful towards them. In fact, back in those days I used to talk often about the superiority of women and how I was generally in love with the gender.
Leading up to the date in which she agreed to be spanked, I had a couple of spanko nightmares, where I had a girl lying face down over my lap and either couldn’t bring myself to strike her bottom, or my spanks were ultra light, as if my hand had to travel through water to reach her bottom. I would wake up from these dreams, shake my arms out, and spank pillows or seat cushions just to remind myself that the inability to spank wasn’t a physical reality.
Happily, it turned out that I had no such difficulty giving the actual spanking. With her jeans still on, I pulled her over my lap. She was giggly, but I didn’t hold that against her. I was just so happy she let me spank her. What surprised me most was just how hard I had to spank in order to make any significant impact. It was my first realization that my pre-conceived notions of how delicate or sensitive girls were, was clearly wrong. I was both disappointed and excited by this experiential information. On the one hand it took some of the erotic charge out of the simplistic idea that the threat of spanking a woman might cause her to be so frightened. But on the other hand, it opened up the exciting notion that some of my more severe fantasies could actually be played out in reality. I realized then that I might someday be able to give a punishment-level spanking and that most women can take that. She might cry, but she can take it.
I then convinced her to pull down her jeans and gave her a spanking over her underwear – thin, high-cut, cotton panties. Having imagined many times the feel of the impact of my palm against a girl’s bottom, the actual experience was even more erotic and heady. The power of it was heady. The sound of the impact of the spanks was like the call of a home that I had never known, but could now return to. The feel of her flesh as my hand struck made me feel that this was what a woman’s butt was made for. Each time I struck her bottom and she jerked her head up, made a sound, and wiggled against my thighs, it just made me want to spank her all the more. On a primal level, there was this magnificent communication between my body and hers and I was directing it.
I knew she was a vanilla so I stopped after about 50 moderate strokes. I didn’t want to scare her off. I wanted her to crave more, so I included plenty of erotic caressing as well.
I didn’t successfully turn her into a spankophile, but the fact that she was vanilla and that I had been able to spank her, was a tremendous confidence boost, which only left the small detail of finding an actual spanko girl to spank. Of course this was not a small detail at all back in the 1980’s for a black guy in a small southern town, but that’s a story for another time…