Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking
From: an191970@anon.penet.fi (alias HAL)
Date: Sat, 29 Apr 1995 18:44:48 UTC
Subject: My First Non-Spanking  

Reality and Fantasy: A Childhood Memory of Both

This is a true story, but much of it is fantasy.  In other words, it is, as
far as I can make it, a true recounting of what happened and what I
fantasized about happening when I was a child.  My recollections of how and
what I felt may have been distorted over time, but reading this newsgroup and
writing for it have solidified some memories I was not entirely aware of, and
since I have no RL childhood spankings to recount (because I was never really
spanked), perhaps this will serve just as well, and just as honestly. 

I must have been about six, maybe almost seven.  I am surprised to realize
that I was so young, but I am certain my father was not present in the
household at the time (he was serving his duty in World War II), so it must
have been, at latest, spring of 1944.

What I remember is the spiky texture of the carpet on our upstairs landing,
the carpet I was lying on, and the way the little points of the carpet fabric
penetrated through my trousers and, as I slid back and forth, both stung and
excited my little erection.  I am sure I had done this before in my own room
many times, those times I looked at comic books depicting spankings and
masturbated (not knowing that's what I was doing).  For some reason, on this
day, I was lying right out on the landing of our front stairway; I must have
crawled across the floor to retrieve something and found how that particular
carpet's texture aroused me without needing any pictures before my eyes
except those in my mind.  I could think about spanking (and I  am sure that
is what I was thinking about) and rub against this particular floor and feel
the now-familiar excitement rise once again from those secret areas one never
spoke of.  I am sure I never before (and certainly never after) was so bold,
or foolish, as to do this anywhere but in my room, behind a closed door, and
I am not sure why I chose to do it now.  I think I only intended to arouse
myself for a few seconds and then scamper off before there was any likelihood
of discovery, but it felt so good, and instincts took over, and time passed.

Then, suddenly, there was my mother standing above me.  I could not see her
face, but in my imagination she had some kind of astounded or horrified look.
 She MUST have known what I was doing, but could she really have believed
that her darling little boy was doing that, right there, and what could she
say?

As well as I can recall, she said, "Hal, what are you doing?"

I think I said, "Uhhhh ... nothing ... well ... uhh, I was just .... uh...
you know, I ... uhhh."

This I DO remember, clearly.  "Well," she said, "get up off the floor.
 You're getting dirt and dust all over your pants."

Possible translations I made at the time: 1. My mother does not know what I
was doing and thinks I was squirming around like an idiot.  2. My mother
suspects what I was doing but doesn't have the nerve to say so.  3. My mother
knows exactly what I was doing (which is more than I do), and for some reason
it cannot be talked about.

So I got up and brushed the lint off my clothes and went to my room, and the
real incident was over. 

The aftermath as it might have played out has been a subject of fantasies
ever since. The fantasies always approximate the following:

"Hal, you are a disgusting dirty little boy.  I cannot imagine where you
learned such things or how you can even think of doing that right here in the
hallway, but I am going to teach you a lesson you will not soon forget.  Come
over here."

My mother seats herself on a nearby chair and draws me to her; her fingers
undo my belt, slide down the zipper, and draw the rough fabric of my trousers
to my ankles.  Then my underpants are lowered to the same position, and I am
bent across her knee, for my first spanking, the one I have been dreaming
about throughout my brief childhood.  Her hand slaps across my bottom as she
says, "There!  Hal, (SMACK) I don't like (SMACK) to have to spank you like
this (SMACK) but you just can't (SMACK) do things like (SMACK) er, like
(SMACK) well, I am sure you know what I mean (SMACK!) (SMACK!)(SMACK!).  So I
am going to spank you (SMACK)(SMACK), and it is going to be (SMACK)(SMACK) a
very hard spanking (SMACK)(SMACK), until you understand why you can't do
(SMACK) uh, do (SMACK) uh, what you did.(SMACK!) (SMACK!) (SMACK!) (SMACK!)"

Of course, since this spanking never occurred except in my mind, it did not
really hurt at all.  Like all my fantasy spankings, I felt aroused by
thinking  of lying, bare-bottom, across a lap, and by the idea of my bottom
being spanked, really hard, and by hearing myself protest and cry.  These
fantasies always provoked an erection (as they do at this moment) and
ordinarily a masturbatory episode (well, we shall see).  I always felt that I
deserved to be spanked at that moment, soundly spanked, and so, in my mind, I
was.  Many times.  It may be that the spankings I eventually experienced,
beginning about 40 years later, were still some kind of punishment which my
unconscious felt I deserved. 

What I do know with certainty is that I believed I had done something wrong,
and I believed that boys who did bad things were spanked, and should be, and
that every time I masturbated (at least until I knew better, in my teens) I
should have been spanked, even though I also knew that it was the spanking
fantasies which fueled my masturbation. I knew that a moment which might have
clarified what the hell I was doing, and why, and what my mother knew about
it, and what she should do about it, had passed.  An opportunity to open a
window on my secret life had just slipped through my fingers, and instead of
knowing why I had this strange, secret, wicked little life, my wickedness
would go on unchecked. I would continue forever to think of spankings and
accompany those thoughts with erotic ecstasy. As I in fact still do. 

So I never got spanked.  And I knew I should have been.  Are the spankings I
seek today some kind of punishment I feel is due? Or are they punishment for
all the fantasies which I generated from that incident?  Sometimes it gets so
complicated!