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Who Actually Likes Being Spanked?

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Who Actually Likes Being Spanked?


My one experience with spanking was in a New Orleans "strip club". When I say "strip club", I'm giving this place way too much credit. The little place where my friend and I ended up was basically an outhouse with really scary red lighting. It was like a haunted darkroom.

During our cross country trip, we figured in New Orleans, we must visit a strip club in the French Quarter. You know you're in trouble when you're a tourist trying out strip clubs. Strip clubs are not to be "sampled" casually.

French Quarter
It really felt like there were only four of us in this little building that we entered: Me, my friend, and two of the most unattractive strippers I've ever seen, giving us what they referred to as "lap dances".

I don't really understand lap dances. When I'm with a stripper there is an invisible wall. So, while a stripper is gyrating over me, I lean back and pray that I don't inadvertently touch her. I'm totally on the defensive.

Often I find a pair of boobs shoved in my face. This is one of those things that you always think you want to happen and then when it happens, you realize you just don't want it to be happening.

My stripper shoved her boobs into my face and everything went dark.

It was like when I visited the beach when I was little and wiped out in the surf. I'd be picked up in a terrible whirlpool of sea foam, aqua hiss, and jumbled tides. There would be temporary darkness and total disorientation until I was mercifully deposited back on the shore. Afterward, I'd sit in a daze, trying to get my bearings.

As the stripper unpeeled her boobs from my face, I felt this same dazed feeling of being deposited on shore. After I got my bearings, I realized I wanted to be anywhere on earth but in this little strip club. I looked over at my friend who was being mounted by his stripper and he looked equally miserable.


"Please, we just want to leave. We want to go home," I begged.

"Yeah, this is just awful," said my friend.

Our strippers took umbrage.

"Sounds like yours is misbehaving," said my friend's stripper (being referred to as an object is always fun).

"Yes. He is," she replied.

She turned to me: "You've been a bad boy. You need to be punished."

My heart sank.

"Take your pants down," she demanded.

We all have crossroads moments in our lives. What college major should I pick? Should I take that job? Paper or plastic? I realized that I could decline her request, and lose the story. Or I could go with it and have something to tell my kids (well maybe not my kids, but someone).

So, I dropped my pants.

My stripper cocked her arm back, took aim, put all of her weight (there was a lot to draw from) behind it and...WHAM...she slap-spanked my ass so hard that the collision of hand to cheek seemed to shake the decaying rafters of the shack. She repeated this a few more times.

I heard my friend's muffled voice from under his stripper's boobs:

"Please! Stop. You're going to hurt him!"

After a few minutes of this, we were able to get away. We even ended up paying. I think the girls really thought that they had given us what we wanted! Honestly, all we wanted was to like look at some pretty girls from afar...I guess? I would have felt more fulfilled if I had spent all of that money on that claw thing that grips the stuffed animal for three seconds before dropping it.

The next day added insult to injury when my friend realized his glasses were nowhere to be found. They must have fallen off-knocked off by his stripper's boobs and probably crushed by one of her stilettos. It was such a symbolic plight-his glasses, civilized and sophisticated, smashed under the dominance and power of our strippers.

Broken Glasses

Needless to say, we did not go back to that shack the next day (if it was still standing) to investigate. My friend would continue across the country half blind.

How does anyone enjoy getting spanked? Was I supposed to enjoy it? It really sucked. For those of you who enjoy it, or have friends who enjoy it, can you explain what is so good about it? Is there some kind of psychological reason it's supposed to be good? I thought that physical contact between two people was supposed to be gentle, but maybe I'm supposed to be mixing it up more?

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