After several weeks of stretching myself across my dominant Daddy’s lap for nightly “discipline,” I now have a solid idea of what makes a good spanking. The kind of spanking that works strange magic and turns pain into pleasure. The kind of spanking that releases the right amount of endorphins or dopamine or whatever natural chemicals send me into a sweet trance and make me lose track of time. The kind of spanking that makes me rise up from Daddy’s lap with a red, burning bottom to look at him with adoring eyes.
The first key thing is to lie across his lap fully dressed. That way he can pull my panties down, and leave them down around my thighs so I can’t move. Feeling exposed like that always gives me a little flash of embarrassment, and I often feel ridiculous at this point. I can’t believe I am doing this absurd thing. But that is a vital part of the ritual—risking embarrassment, making myself vulnerable, learning to trust.
I like a few moments of suspense, lying there bare-assed over his lap, waiting for that first smack. I also like it when he runs his hand over the globe of my bottom first, in anticipation of what he’s about to do. (However, running his hand over my skin after he’s already started the spanking is maddeningly annoying on already irritated skin and counterproductive.) Daddy often adds a lovely compliment like, “You have a gorgeous ass. Made for spanking.” I adore his firm hand across the back of my neck the back of my head, to hold me still. That makes a huge difference, the feel of no escape. My body automatically surrenders.
The first few smacks need to be light, not too hard. It takes time to build up a pain tolerance. I used to think it was just about the mind adjusting, but I have also read that the flow of blood to the area helps “cushion” more blows, so that tolerance grows. Starting too hard makes my whole body clench up in resistance against the blows, and it is difficult to get to surrender through resistance. If the smacks start light, then soon I will be craving them harder, then harder ... Once I am really warmed up, it takes a good wallop to cause the just-right amount of pain, and I like it pretty hard. We figured out the right amount of force for him to use by conducting a few spanking sessions with him asking me to “rate” the pain level I was feeling on a scale of one through ten, and shooting for a target of about 6 or 7. At that level, the force of the smack feels like energy crashing into me, and I take all that energy in and feel a heated, peaceful glow inside me.
Rhythm and pacing is all-important. I don’t like it too fast, it’s too hard to keep up mentally, I can’t absorb the smacks, can’t sink into the spanking. I read somewhere that spanks should come no faster than a person’s heartbeat, and that seems right. A series of fast smacks is jarring, mildly unpleasant, which might be okay for a quick spanking on the fly, just to remind me who’s boss. But when lying across Daddy’s lap, the purpose is surrender, and a slower hand works better. I like a moment to take in the smack, feel the pain flare and then subside a bit before the next smack lands.
The steadiness of the rhythm also matters. When the smacks come in a steady rhythm, like a meditation drumbeat, it is an easier slide into a peaceful trance. Varying the rhythm prevents that slide. Although, once in deep subspace, just about anything is a lot more acceptable. Breaks during longer spankings are important as well so the skin doesn’t get too irritated.
Placement is the most vital of all. Daddy’s hand feels absolutely wonderful on the fleshy part of my lower buttocks. Nice and stingy. If the impact is gradually increased, I can take a LOT of spanking on the lower half of my butt. Even if the spanking gets what I consider too hard, taking my breath away from the pain, I do not suffer any harm. Smacks that accidently land a bit on my bare pussy lips peeking out and give me a hot jolt there are perfect.
The higher up the butt his hand goes, the more it hurts and the less tolerance I have. I cannot relax into smacks more than midway up my butt. I can take it, but I can’t relax into it. If Daddy’s hand moves too high, gets too close to my lower back, then the pain turns bad. Very bad. The spanking is then over, no more happy submissive. And the risk of serious injury, to spine or kidneys, is unacceptable.
I’ve read some advice online that it is important to be vocal about how one is feeling during spanking for the benefit of the Dominant — moans of pleasure or yelps of pain. It helps a Dom to know how the sub is taking the spanking. I get that. But I don’t like to force myself to be vocal. I can’t be vocal and sink into subspace at the same time. Many times a moan or whimper will escape me on its own, and in the beginning I may flinch and squirm a bit. But mostly, the more quiet and still I am, the more I am enjoying it, and my Daddy knows this. His goal is often to get me to the point where I no longer display any reaction at all.
I’ve also run across advice to make a sub count his or her spankings. It is seen as some kind of dominant control. But I hugely dislike counting my smacks. It makes my conscious mind have to stay alert and think and stay in control rather than slipping off into the silent surrendered trance we both want. (Sometimes I think whoever comes up with these rules think they make logical sense, but they don’t know how a submissive mind really works.)
For me, spanking is the most powerful of any and all the BDSM flavors we have sampled, at least as far as putting me in a submissive mindset. And eventually, we will discover the joys of many other kind of spankings: Nature spankings in the outdoors. Quick and dirty spankings in public, such as in elevators or parking lots, where the risk of getting caught makes it even more exciting. I will even learn that a very rough and too-hard spanking which I hate as it is happening — a spanking that is all pain and no pleasure — confers its own kind of submissive reward. It induces no sweet trance, but it does give me a huge jolt of adrenaline, followed by delicious fear and trembling. A too-hard beating is a visceral reminder of his power over me, and once the worst of the pain subsides, I become enveloped in awe of him.
But in our early days, all spankings are delivered with care over Daddy’s lap on the couch. It is how we began our D/s journey, and it is the core ritual on which everything else is built. Daddy tries to make sure we always end the day with a spanking after dinner, and I am to the point where I feel disgruntled and will complain if I don’t get it. I do feel like a “bad sub” when I do this, trying to get my own way instead of submitting to what Daddy wants. But he says he likes knowing that I want it so badly, says it turns him on to know I want it so badly. If I had my way, I would get numerous spankings a day, and I suppose it’s time I wrap my mind around the fact that I have a real spanking fetish.
I have heard that some women can orgasm through spanking alone, and while I have not experienced that yet, I have come close. Oh yes, very close indeed.
Terra Bloom is a happy submissive and a former journalist turned screenwriter who is now focused on positive sexuality through bdsm advocacy. (And yes, Terra Bloom is a pseudonym).