Morning all, here’s yesterday’s column, hope you enjoy. xxx
A MILLION MILES FROM NORMAL – By Paige Nick HERE’S TO A SPANKING GOOD TIME.
I recently got invited to a spanking party in Tokai. Unfortunately I had to stay home that night to set my hair on fire, otherwise I totally would have gone.
No seriously, it was late notice and I already had other arrangements, so I couldn’t make it. If I’d been available I really would have gone. Don’t look at me like that, aren’t you even vaguely curious about what goes on at something called a spanking party in Tokai?
I would have gone purely out of curiosity. I just have so many questions. Like what happens at these things? Is there sex involved, or is it purely the act of spanking? Is everybody naked and is it debauched? Or is it all reserved and polite pinkie-raised cocktail drinking downstairs, and upstairs folks are squirreled away in the bedrooms going crazy? And what kind of person is going to these things? Couples or singles, oldies or youngies, hippies or yuppies? And will there be snacks or should I eat before I go? And most importantly, why, why and again I ask you, why?
Thinking about all of this has brought me to a number of conclusions. The first being that while I think I’m quite open-minded, and pretty much always up for a bit of rompy pompy, I’m not all that kinky. Role-play doesn’t do it for me, and neither does S&M. So I don’t think I’d be into a whole party with a bunch of strangers to celebrate the art of spankage.
I’m sorry if I’m not portraying your hobby in a positive light. And since I didn’t actually go to the party and therefore have no first-hand experience of it, I realise that I shouldn’t pass judgment. From what I can gather lots of people derive an awful lot of pleasure from this kind of thing, and I’m all for that. Hey, I know a ton of couples who after a particularly tough week would love to beat the crap out of each other and call it love making. So I’m not judging, all I’m saying is that it’s not my bag, baby.
I think I’m just more of a reward-oriented person. Say for example you were moving, and you needed someone to help you lug your stuff, I would probably help you out if you offered me a cookie or a whisky at the end of it. But I don’t think I’d do it for a slap in the face. I’m just not that kind of girl.
Maybe my problem is that I don’t have particularly pleasant memories of spankings, so I’m not all that positively predisposed to it. Seven words we heard often as children that struck the fear of Dracula in us were, ‘Just wait until your father gets home.’ But hey, if it works for you, go at it. Better yet, buy a paddle and a studded necklace and go at it. Just don’t put the necklace on the wrong way round, I did that once, and I’ve still got the dents in my neck.
But let’s get back to the party. I think my biggest fear in going to one of these smacking soirees is that I might bump into someone I know. Which is bound to happen in a world as small as this one. Of course it’s always the person you least expect doing these things, isn’t it? I’d never be able to look that client/dentist/financial advisor/optometrist in the eye again.
This invitation also makes me wonder what other kinds of parties are going on out there in quiet, bird-tweety suburbs around the country? Maybe Naughty Corner parties, where you arrive, say a swear word and then get put in the naughty corner for one minute for every year of your life while everyone parties around you. Or, are there Consequences of Your Actions Parties, where if you arrive late they take away your cell phone and TV privileges for a week.
I think I’d better stick to the Karaoke Party. It’s just as embarrassing as going to a spanking party, but you don’t go home with some stranger’s handprint on your bum.