Power to Pleasure: Cheeky Spanking Stories

 

It’s getting chilly outside, and I can think of no better way to warm yourself than by cuddling up with a copy of CheekySpanking Stories, edited by spanking diva, Rachel Kramer Bussel.  I’m the proud contributor of the story “The Assignment,” and I wanted to give you a behind-the-scenes look at my inspiration for this particular spanking scenario.

While I appreciate the physical rush of a nice slap on the butt cheeks, the psychological aspects of spanking especially fascinate me as a writer.  I can get plenty excited just talking about spanking, and indeed, I realize now that all of the stories I’ve written on this theme focus on a loving, lingering verbal seduction.  I believe the power play of spanking reaches deep into our pasts, when the world was populated by so many authority figures.  We knew we had to please them, but were never quite sure of the rules or reasons behind their commands.  Their ghosts linger, but as adults, our clever minds find ways to translate frustration, subordination and surrender into sensual pleasure.  That transformation is certainly part of the magic of spanking for me.

“The Assignment,” is very much about a transformation from power games to pleasure.  A young journalist, Tamara Patterson, is assigned to write an article about spank daddies and gradually finds herself pulled into her own story when she encounters the sexy Dr. Richard Armstrong.  The story is very much about the power of words, from personal ad that sparks her curiosity, to the spanking questionnaire Dr. Armstrong requires of his clients, to the means by which the protagonist balances the exchange of power to achieve her own happy ending.

This particular story has been brewing for quite a while in my imagination.  Some twenty years ago, I was lying in a hotel bed in Knightsbridge, London, trying to get over jet lag by reading the personal ads in a free newspaper.  A relative innocent, I was rather shocked when I came across an ad by a fifty-year old man who was seeking young women who liked to have their bottoms spanked.  What kind of woman would actually answer this ad, I wondered.  I would never, ever go off to meet such a man in real life, but what if... this older man were very attractive and intelligent?  What if he looked into my eyes and knew my deepest desires?   What if he desired something only I could give him in return?

“The Assignment” is my answer to these questions.  In closing, I’d like to offer a brief excerpt from the story.  In this scene, Tamara has come to Dr. Armstrong’s office expecting to interview him, but he first insists she complete a survey about her own background and sexual fantasies.  Reluctantly, for the sake of her profession, she agrees.

From “The Assignment”:

The assignment completed, I passed the clipboard back to Dr. Armstrong with a shrug.

He glanced over my responses, then flashed me a very warm smile.  “Thank you for your cooperation.  I’ve had some unfortunate dealings with interviewers, and this was my way of testing your sincerity.  I’m at your service now, but I do hope it was valuable for you to get a sense of what it’s like to be a new client.”

I had to laugh.  “Actually I did learn a lot.  How do your real clients deal with such intimate questions?”

“The women who come to me are confident in their desires.  They enjoy being dominated and appreciate my professional approach to establishing the parameters of my services.”

“Indeed, while we’re on that topic, Doctor, exactly what type of services do you provide?”

He leaned back in his chair, clearly relishing the chance to elaborate on his area of expertise.  “That varies with the client and her level of experience.  Many novices are satisfied with verbal chastisement culminating in a mild administration of the hand or paddle, just enough to keep them remembering the session for the rest of the day.  The more seasoned veterans have built up a tolerance and seek variety in the implements—crops, canes, belts, hairbrushes.  They appreciate my specialty--maximum sensation with minimal marking—especially if their partners are unaware of their sessions with me, although I’m confident my therapy has a positive effect beyond this office.  A select group of special clients are permitted to request additional services.  For example, I’ll allow them to masturbate in my presence after their spanking or let them perform fellatio on me, if the request falls within the proper guidelines.”

I immediately pictured a naked woman with a rosy bottom kneeling before the doctor to take his stiff cock in her mouth.  Flustered by the obscene image, I spoke without thinking.  “I see.  Do you also have intercourse with these ‘special clients,’ Doctor?” 

Armstrong’s serene expression immediately darkened.  “Ms. Patterson, you are showing your appalling ignorance of the type of eroticism I offer here.  Spanking is an art, not a cover for male prostitution.”

My face flamed with embarrassment at my faux pas, exactly the kind of cheap journalism he wanted to avoid.  “I’m so sorry, Dr. Armstrong.  That was terribly insensitive of me.”

My hasty apology seemed to placate him.  “Perhaps we can avoid such misunderstandings in the future if you look over some of the introductory materials I give to my first-time clients?”

I nodded vigorously.  “I look forward to learning more.” 

“Then this is a good time to take a break.  Can we follow up tomorrow afternoon at this same hour?”

“I appreciate the second chance, Doctor.”

Escorting me to the reception area, the doctor told his assistant to “give Ms. Patterson the introductory reading and An Education.”  With a final nod to me, he disappeared into his office. 

Smirking, the woman walked over to a well-stocked bookshelf in the corner of the room.  The first book she handed over was a slim paperback with a plain blue cover entitled Dr. Armstrong’s Joy of Spanking.  It was the second, however, that made my eyes practically pop out of my head.  The glossy cover was a photograph of a woman’s bare buttocks, a plaid skirt hiked to her waist and white cotton panties pushed down her thighs.  The voluptuous ass cheeks were marked by a red handprint, but most shocking of all were the exposed labia, pink and pouting and glistening with arousal. The title was written in neon pink:  An Education for Samantha by Anonymous.

Blushing fiercely, I shoved the books into my briefcase and rushed out the door.