Enjoying The View

Being spanked is a thoroughly unpleasant experience and it is supposed to be this way. I know some might argue about romantic spankings and willing recipients and probably a few more things I can't think of right now, but I'm not really speaking about sexualized spanking which I believe I can safely say encompasses any kind of spanking which might be interpreted as an enjoyable experience. What I am speaking of is punishment, pure and simple and it is not something which can readily be confused with a fun experience, at least for the person receiving.

No, for the person getting their backside reddened and smacked, it is a somber experience only made more traumatic by witnesses. We know this, each and everyone of us, and yet we do not often sympathize with the unfortunate one or even look away. In truth our reaction to seeing a spanking is quite the opposite. We are intrigued. Who isn't captivated by the sight of a naked bottom bouncing around under the loud spanks of her disciplinarian? Who doesn't smile as that same bottom turns pink and then red, all the while wriggling to escape those same inevitable spanks?

Should we feel guilty for enjoying the sight? Should we avert our eyes because we know the shame of being on the other side?

Maybe.

But, we don't.

Instead, we stare and smile and sometimes we even laugh and all at the expense of another. It sounds so cruel, but I've been on both sides and I think it is all just part of the experience, part of the punishment.

So you don't want people to see your bare bottom?

Behave.

You don't want people to laugh at your desperate antics to ease the burning pain?

Behave.

It's that simple. Behave or be spanked embarrassingly and humiliatingly, like the bad girl you were.

If you choose to break rules, you choose to be spanked and you choose to be entertainment for anyone lucky enough to watch. I accept this for myself and therefore I get to enjoy the experience when I am fortunate enough to be an observer instead of a recipient. I don't feel guilty about it because I've been on both sides and I know when I'm an observer I'm helping someone learn a lesson. Enjoying the experience does not diminish the role played by the observer, if anything it enhances it.

The real question I want to explore here isn't the ethics or morality of enjoying someone else's discomfort, but rather the reason why I can enjoy viewing an experience which I would otherwise loathe. If you can answer that question, I'd love to hear what you have to say. For myself, I don't really know the answer but I have some ideas.

I think maybe part of why I enjoy it is because it is not me getting my bottom spanked. There is a sense of satisfaction in knowing that someone else can screw up and get their panties taken down as a result of it. The fact that it hurts and is embarrassing to them only accentuates the comforting knowledge that I am not alone in my reactions to being spanked. There is a "duh" quality to this answer I realize but being obvious doesn't make it wrong.

Of course there is also the possibility I am vindictive. I could enjoy watching because I think or know they have or will enjoy seeing the same happen to me. It is true that when I observe someone else's spanking there is always a whisper in the back of my mind reminding me that it could just as easily be my butt turning red and that in fact it has been mine on many occasions. I think that is why I often blush at that moment when clothing is lowered or removed and again when she returns to her feet and dances shamelessly about, trying to ease the all consuming burning in her bottom without breaking the cardinal rule of rubbing. I know that I could as easily be watching myself and while it is amusing to watch, it is embarrassing to remember myself doing the same. It might well be that very embarrassment and knowledge that the one being spanked has seen my own which allows me the freedom to enjoy their embarrassment.

Then there is the chance I simply enjoy it because it is enjoyable. Enjoying the embarrassment of other people might well be a basic part of the human persona. If one exams the earliest form of entertainment in human history it often involved the humiliation of others. I know there are plenty of scholars who would disagree but if you follow my logic here I think my point is worth considering. From dancing to theater these forms of entertainment have a basis in doing things which attract attention to an individual or individuals. Whenever one draws attention to themselves in a flagrant manner in public it can be thought of as embarrassing or humiliating. You might argue that some people enjoy this attention but I don't think it negates the idea we might be naturally inclined to enjoy the embarrassment or humiliation of another.

Any other ideas or thoughts on mine?

Parents Suck

I know I was supposed to talk about what a curfew spanking is like, but seeing as the weekend went as it did I thought I would write about it. Somehow I don’t think anyone will mind.

Have I mentioned parents suck? No? Well they do…

Never more so than when they figure out that the perfect world they’ve constructed around me is anything but perfect. When I left Saturday morning they were at each other’s throats over something or other that wasn’t any of my business and I did my best to make sure it stayed that way. I came back late but not so late as to get in trouble, I didn’t think I needed that, but not early enough that I would likely be subjected to any more of their feud. Normally this is the best I can hope for when those days come around where mom and dad are sounding anything but parental.

It was therefore surprising to me to find them both sitting in the living room waiting for me. The absence of TV noise and the serious expressions on both their faces left me with a gnawing hole in place of my stomach and I gulped barely managing to keep my UH OH thought to myself. I didn’t have much a chance to say anything really, dad just told me to sit down with this utterly calm and yet entirely un-calm tone in his voice. If you imagine my knees were shaking and my head was spinning and I sat down only too gladly, you’d be mostly right.

What followed was an inquisition into my whereabouts for the day and the company I'd kept. It was light almost unobtrusive but in the back of my head my own voice was screaming for me to beware of strangers bearing gifts. Make no mistake, calm parents interested in my day without judging it are definitely strangers, not quite Invasion of the Body Snatchers strangers but close enough to raise hackles in any case. Then came the first accusation disguised as a polite question.

Why didn’t you say anything when you left this morning?

How does one tactfully answer such a question? Seriously. I have no idea how I was supposed to answer that. I decided it was better to shrug. Maybe that was wrong, but WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO SAY? Would it have gone any better had I said well I wasn’t sure I wanted to interrupt your fight with my unimportant plans for the day? Truth be told, I had no clue where I was going or what I was going to do when I left, I just knew I didn’t want to be home. The truth wasn’t exactly going to set me free or am I wrong?

I wasn’t wrong because as I suspected from the moment I walked in the door, it wasn’t Saturday’s activities which were at issue. Mom “found” a letter from school which I was keeping private. I do have a right to privacy and I would think my communications with my college should fall under that purview but my parents don’t agree on the mere premise that their financial involvement entitles them to full disclosure on all matters related to my education. Scholarships don’t care about all the stuff that goes on, they just want to know the final results. Seems equitable to me but yeah I know, parents aren’t a scholarship.

[Imagine my eyes rolling at the news and you’ve probably got my reaction down pat.]

Rather than bore you with all the petty details of conversation let me summarize. The school sent me a letter warning me that if I continued to not show up for my trig class I would be dropped from the class with a failing grade and that action could result in an academic probation status which could effect my ability to enroll in classes. Prior to receiving the letter I had no clue my attendance or lack thereof was in anyway an issue with classes at college. Call me stupid (just not to my face) but I thought in college all that mattered was passing the exams. I took the letter seriously and changed my behavior without needing anything from my parents to motivate me. They see it a little differently.

Complaints over the invasion of my privacy and their lack of respect for me as an adult were met with handbook parental responses, I have no privacy so long as I live under their roof, and I’ll be treated like an adult when and if I act like one. 

[See above note regarding rolling eyes.]

With views like that is it any surprise they resort to spanking me? I didn’t think so. It’s not that I don’t think I deserved a spanking over it, it’s that I think I’m old enough that it should have been my choice and not theirs. The distinction matters to me even if it does seem like a silly one.

After everything was said I was sent to bed for the night with the knowledge that nothing was over or settled. I knew I could anticipate a Sunday morning spanking and so I spent a mostly sleepless night thinking about it. I really wish I was better able to rest with stuff hanging over my head. It would make life easier.

Sunday morning came along and with it I quickly ended up upended over mom’s lap in the living room. I came downstairs after a quick stop in the bathroom and found mom and dad waiting in the living room. They didn’t waste time and for that I am glad. It is better to get over with it and early as it was my nephew was still in bed asleep. It’s a small comfort but it is less embarrassing when he’s not in the room while I’m being spanked.

I wear light weight pajamas to bed most nights, some times I don’t wear much of anything but when I know a spanking is coming in the morning, I always wear my pajamas. They’re pink and they have separate top and bottoms making them somewhat ideal for getting spanked as I’m sure you can imagine. So it wasn’t really necessary for me to do more than lower the bottoms and my panties, but mom was in a really foul mood for some reason and made me remove everything before going over her knee. I did protest some but as usual, it did me no good and instead of getting a hand spanking from her I had to walk back up the stairs, stark naked, to retrieve my hairbrush for her to use.

She started out slow and built up the speed faster and faster until I was kicking and squirming and squealing. It burned and stung and just kept getting hotter and hotter until finally I just laid still and sobbed. She waited a moment then for me to get back in control and then made me count out a final 18 smacks. After that I was stood in the corner while everyone else ate breakfast. Yes, my nephew was up then, probably awoken by the sounds of my spanking.

At first I really didn’t care about anything more than the burning in my butt. Rubbing doesn’t really help much but because I’m not allowed to do it, it seems all the more appealing while standing in that corner. A few minutes go by and the pain fades a little into the background and then I realize how humiliating my position is; stood naked in the corner with my hands on top of my head and my red spanked butt clearly visible to everyone in the house. While everyone is eating, talking and laughing like it’s just a normal Sunday morning, I am staring at a white wall exposing my shame. Call it an earth shattering moment when the realization hits like a ton of bricks falling out of the sky.

I should have known the end of breakfast would not be the end of it but I allowed myself to hope anyway. When mom spun me around from the corner and made it clear I was in for a miserable day I nearly started crying again feeling my hopes come crashing down. I sniffled and kept it inside though. I put my pajamas away like I was told and got my trig book, two pencils and a notebook. I brought them downstairs to the living room where I sat behind a small desk on a hard wood chair with my back to the wall. There I stayed working trig problems chapter by chapter for the rest of the day with only a few essential breaks.

As if all that were not enough, I'm confined to the house and only allowed to leave to go to school for the next month. Mom and dad expect me to do my homework at that desk in the living room just like on Sunday and then show it to them as well for the entire month. It's like they don't trust me at all.

Parents suck and so will the next month.

Curfew

If there was ever a more contrived rule to give spankings, I have been"fortunate" to avoid its existence. I mean really, be home by 11PM or your in trouble?!? For fuck's sake, on a Friday or Saturday night nothing worth going out for even starts before 11PM. I can honestly say I have never once missed my curfew time and felt like it wasn't worth every minute of it.  Maybe not at the exact moment of returning home to find Dad sitting in the dark waiting for my key to hit the lock, so he could send me to bed with the full knowledge I was in for a spanking come morning light, but later in retrospective, yes, it is always worth it. 

No, it's not because I like getting spanked. I should clarify that point right now before I forget about it. The actual act of getting a spanking, I have never found pleasant, but in contrast, the concept, the idea, the thought, the anticipation of being spanked is like chocolate covered strawberries served on a silver platter. You get the idea and if you don't, I don't draw it any better. 

With that in mind you can probably imagine the way I would spend those hours in bed waiting for the inevitable reality of morning to intrude.  Sleep was often the farthest thing from my mind, which begs the question, why? Not why was it the farthest thing from my mind, but why do parents do that? You know, tell you something "bad" is going to happen and then expect you to go to bed and sleep until it does.  Like anyone in their right mind could sleep knowing it would only bring them to disaster that much faster. Yes, I know time progresses at the same rate whether you are awake or sleeping, but that's just science, not reality. Reality is relativity and time, relatively speaking, slows to a crawl in the early morning hours when you are lying awake in bed. 

But the sun comes up and the birds chirp like it's going to be a good day and the cold air of night begins to warm to the new day and I sit and wait in bed like a good girl on Christmas morning only there are no presents waiting to reward me for my goodness. Yeah, I know if I was such a good girl why was I out passed curfew in the first place? I've got a better one for you, why is it I never had a curfew until I turned 15 and why do I still have one at 18? My parents have plenty of answers.  When I turned 15 and started dating they couldn't control where I was and who I would be with so they at least wanted to make sure I wasn't gone very long. 

How sweet! They worry about me hanging out with bad people and going to bad places.  Wait a second! Did they or did they not raise me to have good values? I think I know well enough who to stay away from and where I don't want to go, not to mention I always tell them where I am going because they won't let me leave the house if I don't. Does that mean they just assume I'm lying to them? Isn't that wrong, I mean after this many years shouldn't they have some trust and faith in me? Never mind I rarely tell them everything, where or place that I'm going cause that's just TMI and what they don't know, they can't rant about later.

Then of course there is my favorite excuse which dad uses.  I can get pregnant! Like that's news. Sure I can get pregnant, I think anyway,  I mean some people can't but I've got no reason to think I'm one of them. All that aside, I'm pretty sure I can pregnant at 1PM just as easily as at 1AM or is there a part of that discussion someone forgot to tell me?!? Whatever! Like I said, curfew is just the greatest excuse for parents to work in an extra spanking here and there.

That's it for today, maybe next time I'll walk you through a curfew spanking scene. That is if it would interest anyone, maybe this all boring though and nobody wants to hear about it. I guess we'll see. 

More About Me

Continuing the Q&A here to hopefully cover the basics.

Do I have any brothers or sisters?

• The short answer is yes, 2 older brothers. The long answer is of course more complicated because what in life is actually simple? That's rhetorical in case you were wondering.  My 2 brothers are 34 and 30 years old, meaning I have about as much of a sibling relationship with them as I do with my parents. In plain English I'm saying they are more like parents or uncles than brothers to me because there is a rather large age gap. However, the do have kids who are closer in age to me than they are. The older one has two daughters, age 15 and 13 and the other has a son, 10. Technically I am their aunt but I've grown up more as a sibling to them because they are always around.

• My 30 year old brother and his son live with me and my parents and have for nearly as long as I can remember.  He is pretty much always on the same page as our parents and it's mostly like having two fathers in the house. 

• When I was little my 34 year old brother lived with us too along with his wife and two daughters. They moved out around the time I was 10 or 11 but they didn't go far.  It's about a half mile to from my house to theirs.  So yeah, we see each other all the time and the girls still have bedrooms in the house here which they use a lot in the summer. 

So what's the deal with spanking?

• You might say my parents are a bit old fashioned. I'd say they are bit old. Maybe that's the same thing. Then again, maybe it isn't. What I do know is they are of the opinion a spanking can be a good thing when I've gone and done a bad thing. Imagine that!

• Now before someone goes off on a rant, spanking is far from the only possible consequence, but let's agree it is the most interesting. I mean really, getting grounded for two weeks is just plain boring and taking away my car keys just means someone else has to take me everywhere. I'd like to say a good talking to turns me right around but I'll be honest, when Mom or Dad talk I just don't listen.  Oh I nod and agree and say everything they want to hear but deep down I just know they are wrong and I am right. Hey, it could happen!

• So yeah, when they've gotten frustrated enough, they decide on spanking. I've got mixed feelings about that. On the one it's quick and effective in getting their point across, on the other it's quite embarrassing and oh yeah, it happens to hurt.  I'm sure you didn't see that coming.  You see the really complicated part is while I dread it and try to avoid it as much as possible I also find that a part of me wants and needs it.  Go figure. I'd say I was deranged but a few quick web searches tells me I'm far from alone here.

Who does the spanking?

• Mom and Dad both do it in about equal proportions.  Both of my brothers have also given me some spankings, but most of the time it's either Mom or Dad. 

What do they use?

• Anything! Not really, there is of course their hand, but it's pretty rare for that to be the extent of it anymore. We have a few dedicated implements, a small variety of paddles ranging from the small to the very large. Most of the paddles are wood, oak I think, I'm not a wood expert so I could be wrong. We also have a lexan paddle and one that is leather.  My Dad has also been known to use his belt, especially if we are not at home and Mom has this over sized cooking spoon she'll use sometimes.  I believe "OUCH!" is the word you are looking for.

Where do I get spanked?

• Wherever they decide to spank me, duh! For the most part it is either in the living room or my bedroom, but there are exceptions.  The circumstances matter because sometimes they feel it's appropriate for someone else to witness the spanking and sometimes they feel it's better being private. Obviously, given any say I would pick my bedroom, as if that would ever happen.

Is it always on the bare?

• Amazingly no. Truthfully, it is on the bare more than it's not, but as I explained above, circumstances matter and I'll explain that better when I get around to talking about actual spankings I've had. A lot of it just comes down to the judgment of my parents and they aren't exactly unreasonable about most things, just some things. Like all parents, they think they know everything. When will they grow up?

It's All About Me!

That's right. It's all about me and only me. If you want to read about you, go do it some place else. Oh and let me warn you now, you might not like everything you read here, you probably won't agree with everything you read here and that's all fine and good. This is for me and people who will appreciate it for what it is, so if you can't accept that or if you are prone to diatribes about other people's  lives and what's right and wrong, then maybe this isn't the best place for you. On the other hand if you like things a little off center, enjoy a good spanking, or just like to peer into someone else's life, then maybe you'll be right at home. Sit back, get your mocha cappuccino ready, and read on!

First the Q&A session:

Who am I? 

• The name is Andrea. It is a nice name, thank you, but it's mine and you can't have it. I don't shorten it, I don't abbreviate it and I don't have a nickname that I like, so deal with it or don't just don't expect me to respond to any other name because a rose might smell as sweet by any other name but if you call it crap don't expect me to sniff it.

• I'm a college student. That means I live at home, eat, drink, party, pretend to study, and generally keep my parents guessing as to what I'm doing and where I'm doing it. Naturally, that doesn't always go over so well, but more on that later. Oh, I don't know what my major is, so please don't harrass me about it.  Be creative, offer advice I can ignore.

What is this about? / Why am I blogging?

• Read the title of this post. Yeah, that's right, it's all about me! That's what it's about. All the seedy little details of my life shall be revealed, not! I have an interst in something I've noticed a lot of people have an interest in. It's called spanking and it's confusing and complicating and strangely compelling. I think blogging about it will help me sort it all out and come to sort of an epiphany. Not really, but it sounds good.  Ask me later, I might have a better answer but for now, it's just something I want to do for fun.