More on Want of Fear

The idea of a spanking that could recreate that natural fear of spankings that I mentioned in the last post continues to bounce around in my warped brain.

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Naturally, as an adult spanko with an awareness of adult sexuality those childhood fears have been replaced by excitement.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.

There are enough variables to make it literally possible to be spanked a dozen times a day 365 days a year and never experience the same spanking twice.

Now there’s a concept that could generate fear.

 

Experience as an adult spanko makes one realize that there’s just as much anticipation and trepidation when seeing the love of your life holding a relatively small hairbrush as there is when she’s holding a nasty cane or large wooden paddle. Therein lies the issue of my imagination… Bringing that moment of fear far in advance of the actual spanking so that true ‘oh shit’ moment would be generated far in advance of the actual spanking.