05 March, 2011
More on Want of Fear
It wasn’t very often that I was spanked as a child and those few times when I was spanked, it certainly wasn’t much more than one or two swats. But there were two distinct differences at that young age. One was that even those one or two swat were sure to generate tears but more along the theme of this post, the thought that I was going to be spanked, created an incredible amount of fear. That fear would just manifest itself at the mere thought of my poor ass getting spanked.
Those were the days before central air conditioning so naturally as we were out playing it was easy to hear when any of our friends were getting a butt warming. Those sounds naturally sent the ‘oh shit’ sensation through our entire crowd. As mentioned in my previous post, that fear has been replaced these days by excitement when I happen to realize that a spanking is inevitable these days.
Mom kept one of those paddle ball paddles that had at one time been my toy. Previously, there had been an elastic band and ball attached to that evil device. Band and ball long gone as they were, the paddle stayed and was kept in the corner of the kitchen counter behind the cocktail shaker.
When she reached for it, I ran like hell. She always managed to catch me on the stairs racing for my room. I had no idea what I would have done if I actually made it to my room, but still, I took off as fast as my short little legs could carry me.
Naturally, as an adult spanko with an awareness of adult sexuality those childhood fears have been replaced by excitement. Not to mention a much greater awareness as to the incredibly powerful implements of pain generation that can be unleashed upon an anxious bare ass.
Of course it’s not just the implement. Just like a fine painting, the talent and beauty isn’t in the brush or the paint, but the true artistry is in the hands of the artist. So, the complexity of the recipe for our imagined fear generating spanking, grows geometrically.