Spanked Girlfriend Stories

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I didn’t know where else to turn for this but I need to share because it totally surprised me, it’s not like him (or maybe it is?) and I just need to know if any of y’alls SO’s are like that and idk, I’m just torn because part of me really liked it and another part of me thinks it’s really weird. When I say he spanked me, I don’t mean he smacked my ass while having sex a few times, I mean he spanked me, like a punishment spanked. Hard.
We have been together just shy of a year but have known each other for 10 years. We have a crazy comfort level lol which is nice, but lately, there has been a side to him that I have never seen. He is more dominant and aggressive. Not in a mean way, idk how to really explain it. Anyway, we were in our room and I was putting away clothes and he came in and we were playing around and I got a slight attitude because I am just moody today and he told me to “drop my attitude” and me being me I was like “Or f*****g what?” And he said “If you don’t adjust it, I will do it for you, it’s unnecessary” now, mind you, he always says things like that and I always reply the same way which is I laugh and made a smart ass comment like “Yeah, okay, whatever you say” and he laughs and says “Yeah, I got nothing” and we move on, HOWEVER, this time he informed me that he was warning me and I just rolled my eyes and said “Yeah, I hear you, you should really work on your intimidation skills” and he was like “Oh yeah? You are about to regret that comment” and before I could get through another eye roll, he walked over to me, grabbed my arm, walked/pulled me over to our bed, with his other hand he yanked my pajama pants down, he sat down and told me to step closer to him, I didn’t, not even thinking his hand was still on my arm, and after 2 seconds he was like “Okay, we’ll do it my way then” and he yanked me towards him and then you guys, he yanked me down and bent me over his lap and he proceeded to spank me. Hard. And the whole time he asked me if I was going to lose my attitude. Did I like him having to spank me. Do I understand why he is. Blah blah blah.
My ass hurt so bad after and when he was done, he held me and laid me down and told me he loved me and rubbed my ass for a while after.
The whole experience was confusing and weird and embarrassing but it also turned me on in a way and a small part of me is hoping that he maintains this attitude and dominance because I kind of really liked him putting me over his knee and punishing me.
Im so confused, should I be seriously weirded out by it and even more so because i liked it? Do I say something to him?
So many feelings that I don’t know how to sort.

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By day, I was a women’s studies minor, wrote a weekly feminist column for the student newspaper, and was president of the National Organization of Women on campus. By night, I really, really, really just wanted to be spanked.
By day, I was a women’s studies minor, wrote a weekly feminist column for the student newspaper, and was president of the National Organization of Women on campus. By night, I really, really, really just wanted to be spanked.

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My first spanking was at my 16th birthday party. My guy friends tackled me on the kitchen floor and took turns giving me 16 spanks. And maybe one for good luck. I don’t remember. Once freed, I was livid. I was mortified.
In the years to come, I got some playful spankings, during which I was always twisting, giggling, and trying to get out of it. My first serious boyfriend loved to smack me on the ass as a joke, as did my second serious boyfriend. The more I protested, laughingly telling them to stop, the more they did it. And getting playful spanks always, always led to making out. I look back now and see that both guys realized I loved getting spanked long before I did.
You could say I was in denial about my spanking fetish. It wasn’t that I thought slapping booty was abuse, nor was my starched WASP upbringing to blame. No, the problem was my feminist sensibilities. I realize now that the term “feminism” is vague and means different things for different people, but when I was younger, I assumed there was a way a feminist should think and act. So, even though I liked the feeling of getting spanked, I felt conflicted about giving up my physical power, thinking spanking wasn’t something an independent and opinionated woman should enjoy . Just how, I fretted, could a partner take me seriously as a thinker, a doer, and a creator when I wanted to be submissive to him? What if people think I’m weird or screwed up?
But my sex drive proved mightier than my hang-ups and spanking became a main course of my sex life—albeit a shameful one—in college.
And I was, by a few different guys who, to varying degrees, were down with giving me spankings. But I still felt kind of ashamed because they themselves didn’t enjoy it, but they spanked me anyway because they knew it made me happy.
When I was 21, right after I graduated from college, I began dating Brandon, a brilliant, charismatic, confident 22-year-old. I loved how his dominant, even arrogant, personality manifested itself between the sheets. (Really, the only place I could put up with such a personality.) I didn’t have to ask for him to spank or dominate me because he did it naturally, and I didn’t feel like I was “choosing” to be submissive. But when we broke up after nine months, I knew I wanted the next guy I dated to be dominant in bed, like Brandon had been. I did a little Googling about submission and spanking fetishes and discovered it was a lot of other people’s fetishes, as well.
Fast forward a few years, and a few sexually un-fulfilling relationships, to Charles, the first guy who made me feel like there wasn’t anything wrong or un-feminist about wanting to be spanked. I’d known Charles for years, so he knew about my feminist activism and the writing I do about women’s issues. Once Charles learned about my dom/sub fetish, he knew—and respected—how conflicted I felt. Charles wanted to spank a woman as badly as I wanted to be spanked, and that was what mattered to him. Plus, he’d struggled with apathetic partners, as I had, and he owned a paddle! Alas, Charles also had a girlfriend.
Not that that stopped us. No, we were selfish: Charles cheated on his girlfriend with me. But those few weeks were sexually charged, passionate and wonderful. And other than feeling guilt about the cheating, I didn’t feel ashamed about what we were doing. Getting spanked and dominated in bed by an enthusiastic partner was the most sexually liberating feeling of my entire life.
Eventually, Charles and I ended our relationship when he wouldn’t end it with his girlfriend. I talked with my therapist, Dr. B, about how the emotional part of the relationship hadn’t been right, but my sexual chemistry with Charles had been spot-on.
However, instead of addressing how disappointed I felt that my intimate relationship had ended, or why I was in yet another relationship with an emotionally unavailable man, Dr. B focused on why I liked to be spanked. She kept steering the discussion back to what being submissive must mean in the grand scheme of things. Did I think I was bad? Did I think sex was bad? Did I think I deserved to be punished? Was I working out my relationship with my parents? Was it oedipal?
No, I kept telling her: I wasn’t hit as a kid, I was never abused by my parents, I’ve never dated an abusive man, and I’d never hit my own kids. But week after week, she’d ask me these same questions, and I’d have to tell her, nope, I still don’t hate myself, and I still wasn’t abused as a kid.
Eventually, our therapist-patient relationship ended, too, when I realized Dr. B didn’t get it and likely never would. I’d gotten over my conflict, and there she was bringing it up again. I may be a submissive, but I wasn’t going to put up with my shrink’s judgment!
I’m still coming to terms with my feminist beliefs, and how they interact with my desire for submissive sex, especially my spanking fetish. At this point in my life, at 25, I finally feel comfortable choosing to be submissive in a relationship with a man in the bedroom, as long as he is choosing to behave in a dominant way and he respects me outside of the bedroom. My love of a good spanking is not a conflict for me anymore. In fact, I respect myself more than I ever did for knowing exactly what pleases me and not being afraid to ask for it.
It took me far too many years to realize that it wasn’t very feminist of me to police my own sexuality, to label it “good for feminism” or “bad for feminism.” It is what it is! After I saw “Milk,” the movie about gay rights activist Harvey Milk, I decided I wanted to be someone who completely owns her sexuality, even if it’s not mainstream. I’m not ashamed anymore, and I don’t have to pussyfoot around asking for what I really want: I absolutely have to be submissive and spanked often, if not all the time, in order to enjoy sex.
Even though my sex life is the best it has ever been, it’s more important to me that I’ve figured out how I define my feminism for myself. The thrills of a dom/sub relationship might not work for other women and men who use the same “feminist” label that I do, but I’m not worrying about them anymore. I know I can enjoy a bedroom dynamic which, outside the bedroom, wouldn’t be acceptable. And I can still call myself a feminist.
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Published March 31, 2015 12:17PM (EDT)

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Life Stories
Love And Sex
Spanking

Six weeks after we started dating, I told Emily my secret.
We were in bed, still in those heady, lust-filled days of a new relationship. I really liked her, suspected that I might even love her, which meant I had to tell her the truth about myself. She sat up to listen, and I trailed my fingers over her thigh, eyes down, nervous as a teenager. I was 30 years old and for the first time in my life I was going to tell a girlfriend that I wanted to spank her. No, not wanted to, needed to. And I knew that telling her might mean the immediate death of our relationship, but I also knew we'd never be perfect together unless I looked into her pretty blue eyes and told this sweet, innocent, beautiful woman that I had a spanking fetish.
Let me clarify something: I'm not "into" spanking the way you might be "into" Celine Dion or “The Bourne Identity.” Spanking is a part of my psyche, an essential element of my sexuality. It's not like slavering over cheerleaders, or fantasizing about sex on the beach at sunset. When I was a kid I used to look up the word "spanking" in the dictionary, and I got a visceral thrill when I saw a spanking scene on “Little House on the Prairie” or “I Love Lucy.”
At times, spanking was an obsession, and one made all the more torturous for the shame I felt harboring it. For more than 20 years I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought that if, by chance, someone else felt the same way, then they'd be a dirty old man with a grubby overcoat and bulging eyes. But I couldn't help it. I didn't choose to be kinky in this way, any more than a man or woman chooses to be straight or gay. The way I saw it, homosexuals had their closet and I had mine. Only mine was a lot smaller, and I was the only one in it.
I never told any of my girlfriends about my fetish, although I often made clumsy attempts to engage in spanking play. If they let me, I landed a few gentle slaps to the bottom until I got a curled lip and, "That's just weird. You don't really want to hurt me, do you?"
I didn't, no. Not really, not unless she wanted it, too, and none of them did. The closest I came to telling anyone was Jennifer, the girl I dated right before Emily. She told me it was sick and made me see a psychotherapist who, I found out later, labeled me in her notes as a sexual sadist. Another heaping of shame from my girlfriend, and a horrifying diagnosis from a professional. You can see why I kept this to myself.
The thing is, I was beginning to suspect I wasn't sick. Or, if nothing else, that there were a lot more sick people like me out there. I dated Jennifer during the advent of the Internet, and when she was out of the apartment I'd spend hours in spanking chat rooms or looking at spanking photos. A couple of times I met people, real live girls, who liked to be spanked. I didn't have much else in common with them, but the spanking was amazing. As much as anything, it was the relief of finally exercising my kink with someone other than my right hand and a box of tissues. I wasn't alone!
Jennifer caught me, of course. I'd driven 300 miles to go to a small spanking party in Washington, DC. It was at someone's house, and it was two days of awesome. At one point, I was in a hot tub with a woman who acted in spanking films and the female host, a retired police lieutenant. But as exciting as that was, I wanted to experience spanking with someone I loved. I didn't want to have spanking on the side; I wanted it front and center.
Last November, the New York Times' Modern Love column ran an essay by lifelong spanko (official term) Jillian Keenan, called "Finding the Courage to Reveal a Fetish." As she put it, "For as long as I remember, I’ve been fairly obsessed with spanking. This obsession felt impossible to share, so I was always hungry for cues that someone could relate."
I relate. As a man, though, it's a little different -- we're not supposed to hurt women, we're supposed to protect them. I've never hit a woman in my life, and abhor those who do, including those who emotionally abuse their partners. That's the essence of my shame, deepened by the impossibility of trying to explain it to someone who is not a spanko, someone who isn't wired to understand. As Keenan said:
It’s hard to admit this. A few playful swats during sex seem fun, while serious spankings seem damaged and perverse. After years of pretending I was interested only in the occasional erotic swat, I finally had to admit it to myself: Although spankings do satisfy a strong sexual need, they satisfy an equally strong psychological one.
For me, too. How many of us are there? Impossible to say. In a 2011 article in Salon , Debby Herbenick, a research scientist and sexual health educator at the Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender and Reproduction, was quoted as saying that no study has ever been done that would give a solid figure on how common spanking is. I can tell you that just one of the many spanking subgroups on the adult website Fetlife contains more than 17,000 members. As for the male-to-female split, I asked Eve Howard. She co-founded of one of the best-known spanking erotica companies in America, Shadow Lane, and has run spanking parties in California and Las Vegas for 20 years. She said: "There are as many women into spanking as there are men, no doubt whatsoever about that."
As time went by, I did find comfort in knowing there were others like me, but as I sat on Emily's bed, they all seemed irrelevant because she wasn't a spanko. I knew that for sure. As with every girl I met, I'd dropped hints, used the word "spanking" to get a reaction. I'd gotten none from her. The only question now was whether she'd call me a freak and kick me out.
I spoke for a while, explaining that I didn't understand why, that the why didn't even matter anymore. Spanking was a massive part of my sexuality, and that was something she needed to know. When I finished, she furrowed her brow.
"Spanking is a thing? A sexy thing?" she asked. When I nodded, she paused for a moment. “OK, I'll give it a try."
That was 14 years ago. We married a year later, and our sex life today would shock the neighbors. Once or twice, when we've forgotten to close the bedroom window, I suspect it has. It's not been plain sailing, though, and this isn't the end of the story because a kink is a powerful beast. The hardest thing has not been the play; when turned on, Emily can take an almighty spanking, and a caning that would make an English schoolboy squeal. She likes it so much that we now call her "vanilla, with sprinkles."
No, for her the problem has always been understanding my need to connect with other hard-wired spankos. I'v
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