Starting Over

Hi there, spanking fiction enthusiasts. I'm here to tell you that Something Really Bad happened to me recently, and I have changed a great deal. I'm taking to my blog because I need an outlet, and this is both intensely personal and at the same time more or less anonymous... or at least anonymous for my needs.

The Something Bad has made me rethink life in general and my own life in particular. It dawned on me (like a brick falling out of the sky and landing directly on my head) that being vulnerable can be rewarding.

Up until now I have kept my online presense more or less hiding behind my fiction. That's not really fair, actually, because my fiction is a very personal expression of my authentic self. My sexuality is central to who I am, and I write what turns me on, almost without exception. I don't necessarily write about things I would want to experience in reality, but some things are very pleasurable to enjoy in your head through fictional characters who suffer no repercussions (unless I hand them out!).

I have to wonder sometimes if everyone's sexuality is as closely tied to their person as mine is. It must be why I don't feel exceptionally close to very many people. I don't know if I have shared my entire self with anyone in my life. I'm not what you'd call a trusting person.

You can't even really expose yourself online. I mean, here I am and here are my thoughts and fantasies. But if I met you on a newsgroup, I couldn't just tackle you with my full on personality.

What do you do? I write spanking fiction. You might have seen my work floating around. My name is Jennie May.

Oh... Jennie May. Yikes. You write ageplay. That's scary. You write Christian Domestic Discipline stories. That makes me think you are in favor of nutjob EEE-vangelicals being beaten because they think God wants it that way. By the way, do you know the Duggars?

I also write ageplay with intense sexuality. Many people are quickly squicked by that type of thing and may even be rather judgemental toward my precious "little" characters regarding their wants and needs. I sometimes write what the Real World would certain consider rape or spousal abuse.

I can't just spill that to someone, even a fellow spanko.

I'm lonely.

Me, me, me. I know. Well, it's my blog.

Spanking. Is that better?

My spanking fetish is mixed up in just about everything in my inner world, soul, spirit. My physical world gets by okay without it (although due to circumstances beyond my control I've been living without the physical act, and I can tell you with all authority that it sucks), but it's all wrapped up in my emotional life, my heart, my sense of safety... everything.

That's so crazy. Am I crazy? I mean, maybe the answer is yes, but it's okay. I'm back to me again.

I am rarely attracted to a man by the way he looks. I am attracted to his demeanor, to the way he takes control of a conversation or situation. I am attracted to the way someone scolds or teases me. The guy at the convenience store counter can tell me in an authoritative tone to drive carefully, and I get all tingly.

One time. One time I was in a really bad mood and I happened to throw some trash out my car window. (In my defense this is something I NEVER do... really. I am very environmentally friendly and pro clean neighboorheads. It's just that this one day I was feeling all rebellious and out of sorts). So I tossed the trash, and then I happened to look in my rearview mirror. There was a man at the wheel of a black SUV, and he was giving a look that sent shivers up and down my spine. I'm not sure how I managed to keep control of the car. We stopped for a red light, and I glanced at him in the mirror again. He looked straight into (the reflection of) my eyes and pulled out a police badge which he placed against his windshield.

I'm sure that police officer was not trying to turn me on. He was probably thinking that he would scare that awful litterbug and make her never toss a piece of trash out the window again. He was certainly not thinking that the young lady in front of him needed to be spanked by a protective but caring authority figure so she would learn to make better choices... But it's been almost 10 years since that happened, and I'm still tingling at the memory.

I love the way men move. I recently read an old blog post about the power of a rolled up sleeve. Yes. Look me in the eye, and roll up your sleeves. Oh my goodness.

If you're going to kiss me, back me up to a wall. If we're out together, posessively take my hand and lead me.

I like the way that men take up space with their bodies. Women tend to draw themselves up, pull themselves in. But men separate their knees and let their arms spread naturally. (I know it's awful but I am completely turned off when a man crosses his legs with one knee over the other. For heaven's sake, don't do that. Make the little square with your legs if you need to cross them, but keep your knees away from each other.)

I knew this would feel good.