I thought my spanking fetish started at 21, when I accidentally stumbled across a spanking scene in some m/f erotica that I was reading. I was never into porn, but I loved a juicy romantic love story; I liked the thrill of turning the page (or scrolling down the screen), wondering what was next and crafting my own image. Either way, I was completely entranced by the spanking scene. It was so odd. Was it erotic? Was it punishment? It seemed like a mix of both in the story, and my mind was blown. It was sexually alluring, but it was also something else.

The reason that I couldn’t stop thinking about spanking wasn’t just that it could sometimes be arousing. I was actually more drawn to the punishment and domination aspects. I had always been a little neurotic. Driven, hard on myself, constantly in control. The idea of giving up control to someone else- letting them take care of me, and discipline me, made my head spin with excitement. After months of reading spanking-focused stories, I started to realize that I almost exclusively preferred tales that involved two women, whether they were sexually involved or platonic.

LIGHTBULB. I’m no psychologist, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that my spanking fetish didn’t come out of no where. I had always been drawn to strong female figures in my life (coaches, mentors, etc.). I had always found some weird sort of joy in being punished, even if it was annoying or felt unjust to my young mind. There was something about someone else exerting authority that my brain seemed to code as “enjoyable.” I wanted someone else to be in control. I didn’t want a sadist, though. I wanted someone who could punish and protect. Someone who could make me feel safe, but also give me a healthy dose of fear. Smart, intimidating women with a kind and playful side. That would be my Mrs. Right.

After a brief encounter with a woman involved in bdsm, I realized that I was probably bisexual. This nearly shocked my insulated Catholic heart, but I took right to getting involved with the LGBT community and found a home there. Although bdsm wasn’t for me, I stayed involved on the outskirts of the community, mostly looking for other spankos or women into power exchange with “light” bdsm. I had some spankings. They HURT. Gosh, they hurt more than I thought they would… truly. But they made me feel out of control. I loved the feeling of light, healthy embarrassment when I was told to stand in the corner or pull my panties down. It was humbling. I like the feeling of someone’s arm around my waist, or a leg over my leg, physically subduing and overpowering me. I like being restrained while I wiggle and cry, being lectured, and spanked until the sting in my ass and the guilt in my heart evaporate into a feeling of calmness and acceptance. I like sinking over someone’s lap at the end of a session, fully submissive and ready for them to snuggle and comfort me. And I like the other things that come with it. Witty banter, those sexy threatening stares when I misbehave, whispered warnings, a light pat on the behind, and subtle acts of domination in public that remind me that I belong to her. I like being reminded that though we are equals, I have chosen to submit to her and she will hold me to that agreement.

So, here we are. Even though I hadn’t ever really considered myself particularly creative, nor a good writer, I decided starting to put words on the page. I’m writing because it makes me feel normal, and I want other people- whether they’re struggling with coming to terms with their sexuality, desires, or kinks- to feel normal, too.

My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.