Spanking Is a Myth
Pffft! Y’all are cracking me up, sending me messages saying naughty ladies and gents get spankings.
That we need to be on our Ps and Qs.
That bad behavior will not go unpunished.
That there are consequences for our actions.
That our mouths shouldn’t write checks our asses can’t cash.
That y’all are going to spank MY “bare bottom” until I’m a very sorry girl.
That it will hurt a lot and not be over quickly.
That the moment I really want it to stop, the true lesson will only just be beginning.
No one’s ever actually spanked anyone. Especially not in an intimate or sexual context. That would be so fucking scandalous, I can hardly imagine it. Honestly, can you?
Picture someone legit shucking down the pants and/or panties of another grown-ass adult, yanking them over their knee, and smacking their butt raw until those jiggling, pillowy globes glowed pink and hot. Until they couldn’t sit down on their swollen behind without the reminder of their justified comeuppance. Until they were exclaiming, “Please! No more! It hurts so much! I won’t do it again, I promise!!!”
This has never occurred. Not once in the history of anything. It only LOOKS LIKE it happens in porny photo shoots and old-timey films with white picket fences and Elvis on the radio.
It’s all a spectacle to boost ticket sales for the Hollywood motion pictures. Movie magic and nothing more. That's the nature of this whole illusion.
Imagine the under-the-breath gossip if anyone did actually spank. My goodness. The whole town would raise a fuss and WHAT an uproar it would be! They’d hear the sharp crack of the smacks. The gasps and whimpers and cries. They’d know that the recipients were walking around in polite society with sore buns aching under their britches after a good walloping.
How could anyone make sense of it? And how could they possibly go on without getting insanely curious about the hows and whys?
Part of me wonders why the “spanking” myth persists. It’s probably like dragons and unicorns, right? Perhaps something similar existed before. Maybe back in the day when people slapped each other’s faces with gloves while proclaiming, “I challenge you to a duel!” some unhinged pervert extended the matter to a fantasy of smacking bountiful booties.
Or perhaps a peach farmer beheld the plump, round, ripe splendor of his succulent harvest, swatted one off a tree in a divine daze, hypnotized by its benevolent pinkish hue, and went on to write a book of poems dedicated to metaphors linking peaches to the imaginary concept of punished, blushing bottoms. Surely, it must have been so. Mayhap.
Regardless, all this ongoing talk of “spankings” is some silliness. Laugh right in the face of anyone who claims otherwise. Don’t give credence to their clap-trap. Don’t waste your waking moments on sleepless nights, staring into the darkness, dreaming desperately of such fanciful fables...
‘Tis fake news and nothing more. Like flat-earth theories and the alien-abduction shows on the History Channel. And we responsible citizens are saddled with the duty of honoring that which is tried-and-true in the name of respectable democracy. Woke we are, always, never to be duped like some uneducated class of cretin.
May we carry on into the great unknown with sensible minds and unshakable resolve. Reality has never mattered more than it does at this very moment in history. You know this. I know this. There is no room for talk of “spanking” in our three-dimensional reality.
Only in stories.
Only in dreams…