When my friend, @AfterrDarkk, sent me an email, sharing her first spanking experience, I was blown away. You never really know someone, especially when all your interactions are online, but she had always come across as extremely efficient, eager, and helpful (she’s been all three for John Brownstone and myself). And she is definitely all of those things, but just as with anyone, she has entire world to live in and deal with – some great, some not so much.
She mentions in her piece that she asked me a bunch of questions about spanking, and truth be told, I felt a little defensive when she did (at first) – as if I had to justify my love of spankings. I quickly realized that her mind is constantly at work, the gears are always turning, and she was simply trying to understand something that seemed completely foreign to her. I love this peek into her life and am humbled that she was willing to share her first spanking experience with me and all of you. Take a look!
- I have the care and advocacy of my 80+ year old father in law
- I have the care and advocacy of my disabled husband
- My brother, who practically raised me, is on hospice
- My only daughter is getting married in six months
- My only son is on deployment – He is a crew chief for a BlackHawk Rescue Helicopter
- I have pelvic floor dysfunction and can’t orgasm
- I have permanent structural damage to my bladder and can’t pee so I use a catheter
- A relative was in a horrific car crash
- My husband takes so much medication for his condition, Viagra doesn’t help
- My paranoid schizophrenic mother decided not to take her medication
- I suffer from anxiety and panic attacks for the first time in my life
- My doctor said medicine won’t fix this; I’m referring you to a therapist
- My therapist said you need to be properly medicated; I’m referring you to a psychiatrist
- I got labeled chronically ill and my joy knows no bounds (sarcasm at its best)
Those are just the highlights. I have broad shoulders but I’m starting to crumble under the weight of these things that are out of my control and the familial responsibilities that I have. I’m just so angry, but who am I going to be angry with? My brother for dying? That’s not his fault. My husband because his diagnosis came out of the blue and was totally unexpected? That is totally not fair. That everything below my waist is broken in some form or another? That’s not a very fair outlook to have, but it’s as close to the truth as I see it.
Since my husband and I both suffer from a sexual dysfunction as outlined above, we both agreed we were going to have to try something different. Somehow Kayla Lords and John Brownstone came to my attention. (I was certain John Brownstone wasn’t even real and it was a brilliant wordsmith bantering with herself.) I’m pretty sure it was organically through Twitter. After all, she is the mastermind behind #MasturbationMonday. I tend to stay off Twitter on Mondays. I can’t participate and it makes me feel sorry for myself. I read her books and even blogged my book review.
I read John Brownstone’s blog. He scares me just a little bit, but not as bad as it used to be. He’s rather charming and persistent. I listened to almost all of Kayla’s podcasts. I paid particular attention to the podcasts on spankings. I even reached out and asked Kayla a bunch of shit that wasn’t any of my business. I just didn’t get it and I wanted to understand why it was a popular kink. I don’t mind a swat on my ass while engaged in sex acts, but spanking for spanking’s sake just ain’t my gig. I’m not into pain. I don’t even know if I have an identifiable kink.
My husband and I travel a lot for doctor’s appointments. Ninety minutes or more one way. That leaves a lot of time to solve the world’s problems but nobody wants our opinions. We talk about sex bloggers and people we follow on Twitter. On one of our most recent trips, we talked about Bex’s (@Bextalkssex) birthday spanking. We talked about an article we both read on the subject. We left the conversation open ended. He didn’t say it was something he wanted to do and I didn’t say it was something I was willing to try. I figured the discussion was just tabled for a later date because we moved on to other topics. I was wrong.
My First Spanking- Therapeutic Or Otherwise
A few days later, I couldn’t sleep. I take medication to help me sleep. My anxiety is through the roof because if I’m not a candidate for an implant I’m stuck with a catheter for the rest of my life. It sucks to be at the moment and I drown in “what if” scenarios that play through my mind like a bad horror movie. It was almost 4:30 a.m. before I finally fell asleep after hours of just laying in bed wondering and worrying when is the next shoe going to fall? The next one is going to bring me to my knees. I can’t take anymore.
When my husband came to wake me, we did our normal morning cuddle and talked. I ask for a news update and what spoiled little kitty antics I missed. He asks how I feel, inquires about my pain level and how I slept. After we’re done cuddling and giggling, I’m ready to start my day. This is how we start out day almost every day. This time our morning routine was different. He starts fluffing our pillows and arranging our blankets and tells me to lay across his lap. I thought I was going to get a butt massage. There is not a day that goes by that my left ass cheek doesn’t hurt. He had other ideas. I got petted and praised for my cute little heinie. He dug his fingers in to the achy parts and then he slapped both ass cheeks in rapid concession. He was even nice enough to rub out the sting.
Then he did it again. And again. And again. I won’t say it was painful (I didn’t quite last long enough to discover if it would have been) but I won’t say it felt good either. I honestly don’t know how many minutes or how many slaps I received. At some point my pain receptors and my sexual arousal sensors hit head on in an explosion of activity. Apparently his did as well because he was able to maintain an erection and orgasm. Spanking did for him what Viagra couldn’t. As for me, I sat up, gobbled his cock for a few minutes then hopped on for a ride. I wasn’t able to orgasm, but penetration wasn’t as painful for me as it normally is.
I cried when it was over. Not for very long and not very hard. But I did cry. I’m still not sure how I feel about either one of these things. Almost a week later, we had a discussion about the whole thing. What did we each take away from the event? How do we feel about delving further into this? I’m still at the “what the fuck is wrong with my body that a spanking will relax my pelvic floor enough for penetration” when narcotic vaginal suppositories will not. My husband says he’s going to find an instructional book geared to education in erotic and therapeutic spankings. I’m not sure how I feel about that either.
I’ll take any unsolicited advice. You can contact me through my blog (http://www.afterrdarkk.com) reach out to me on Twitter @AfterrDarkk or email me at broken at afterrdarkk dot com. Thanks for listening to me ramble. Heartfelt gratitude to Kayla for allowing me a safe place to write about my experience.
I’m a hot mess, in body and spirit. I’m spoiled rotten and then some. I love to cook and hate to clean. I’m an open minded, country girl from the south. Putting sugar on grits will cause me to unfriend you on Facebook. I enjoy our door life, hunting and fishing. I hold the title of “redneck wife” proudly. I hate bugs in any form and I don’t care that a butterfly is cute. Spending time with family is big on my list of priorities.
My thoughts? Sometimes you just need a spanking and a good cry to help things almost balance again. I hope she continues her exploration into spanking and other kinks that may help them out. I wish I could donate orgasms to her as well… holy crap… I couldn’t imagine not being able to reach climax.
Also, who the fuck puts sugar on grits!? I’m not from the South but I’m not that crazy either.
A spanking and a good cry certainly do release a lot of tension.
Don’t hate me, but when I was young and stupid, I tried sugar on grits (because I didn’t like grits at the time). It was not my finest moment, lol. Lesson learned – eat better grits, instead.