You can see it in almost every porn movie. Sooner or later, she kneels in front of him and is taken from behind with powerful thrusts. And because she turns her bottom towards him in an almost inviting manner, it is almost inevitable that he will lunge at some point and give her a few loud, clapping strokes. She feels cheered on like a horse that feels its rider’s whip. And somehow it also reveals that sex is not just lust and love, but also conquest and submission, dominance and devotion, the strength of the man and the weakness of the woman.
Every man feels the need to hit a woman at some point. She’s so stupid, you could hit her, is a common comment when it comes to a young woman who looks hot but has nothing on her mind. She needs a good spanking, many an observer thinks when they see a rebellious teenager making life difficult for her parents. In the past, she would have had the spanking of her life, especially the older ones like to say when they hear that today even twelve-year-olds take the pill to get fucked by their changing boyfriends.
Even in our oh-so-civilized world, many a domestic dispute ends in a rough beating, which usually leaves her with bruises and a black eye. The judgment of others is clear: she is the poor victim and he is a brutal thug who should be behind bars. But she was usually the reason why he snapped. And she had the misfortune of growing up in a world in which men have forgotten how to hit a woman in the way that was once taken for granted. Whenever she asks for it and whenever it’s necessary.
At the beginning of the last century, men still had the right to chastise their wives as a matter of course. But in those days, this was not simply done impulsively and with a clenched fist. No, chastisement was an almost ritual act that was celebrated differently in every home. There were no blue eyes for everyone to see. But there were welts in all colors, especially on the buttocks and thighs. Apart from the man of the house, no one saw them, but they were an effective reminder to the woman in question to behave as expected in future.
Perhaps this practice is deeply rooted in the male psyche, as there are certainly specific reasons why it still dominates thinking today. Unfortunately, the rituals that used to be an integral part of family life have been lost. And with it a form of rebuke that was carried out discreetly behind closed doors and had an immediate effect without outsiders having to take notice. It can be assumed, however, that the chastisement of a woman also triggered clear sexual reactions in every man. Back then, nobody got upset when their daughter, wife or maid was made naked to feel the strap, the rod or the cane.
There are situations where almost everyone thinks that a spanking or at least a slap in the face would work wonders. Situations in which many a mother’s hand slips. Incidents in which the father considers it regrettable that he can’t simply send his spoiled brat to her room to give her a good spanking. Fierce arguments in which he feels the urgent need to tie her naked to the bed and work her over with his leather belt until she comes to her senses.
But hardly any man today would admit to himself that making a woman scream while she writhes under his blows would also trigger feelings of pleasure. Although such thoughts do exist, they are rarely thought through to the end and even less often acted out.
When I meet a young woman who is decidedly arrogant and obviously aware of her effect on men, my gaze almost automatically wanders downwards to examine her bottom. If this has an attractive effect on me, in my imagination she is already lying over the edge of the bed while I reach out with my belt to give her pale backside red welts. This happens completely unconsciously and I would put it into practice without inhibitions if the opportunity presented itself.
I have similar thoughts when I come across a swarm of teenagers in front of the disco who obviously have nothing else on their minds but to turn the boys on. Some are dressed like hookers and usually wear nothing more than a black dress that clings to their body like a rubber tube so that everyone knows what it looks like underneath. At the top, pointed nipples poke through the thin fabric. At best, she wears a tiny thong underneath, so that a male prospect can never be quite sure whether she is actually as naked as she looks. If that were my daughter, I think she would quickly regret the fact that a dress like this can be pushed up in a single movement to get her ready for a spanking.
What has slipped somewhere into the subconscious of other men definitely plays a present role in my sexual fantasies. I don’t know where that comes from. I only know when I realized that I was somehow „different“ from the other boys in my class.
I was about twelve at the time and was one of those children who dutifully accompanied their parents on Sundays when they decided to go for a long walk. It was on the outskirts of some village near Pforzheim. Up there on the edge of the forest, there was an area with allotments where families from the area would retreat on Sundays to relax, put their feet up and eat coffee and cake in the afternoon.
We were coming from the forest and there was a small meadow between the allotments and the edge of the forest. It was fall and most of the garden sheds were already locked up and prepared for the winter. Only in one of the gardens sat an elderly couple. He was reading the newspaper and she seemed to be knitting a sweater. None of this would be part of my memory if there hadn’t been a loud shout at some point. The forest path led quite close to the allotment gardens, so I was able to observe what was going on over there from a relatively short distance as I walked past.
A young girl had entered the scene. She was probably my age and was wearing a long dress made of colorful patterned fabric – back then, almost all girls wore skirts or dresses, because jeans were just coming into fashion at the time and it was simply forbidden for most teenagers to wear such things. I assumed the older man was her grandfather and the woman was therefore her grandmother. He scolded her loudly while she supported him with an angry voice. The girl had obviously done something wrong and was now eloquently trying to defend herself and justify her actions. But she didn’t seem to be able to calm the two old men down, so the argument went on for quite a while.
Finally, he stood up and walked with energetic steps towards the garden shed. In the meantime, the little girl had changed her tone of voice and had started crying and wailing. She was obviously in for a bad time and knew that there was no way out for her. In the meantime, my little friend had made his presence felt and my pants tightened treacherously, which embarrassed me in front of my parents. I still didn’t know why this scene aroused me, but I would have the same wet dreams again and again for days to come.
Meanwhile, the man had returned from the garden shed. In his hand he held a pair of hedge shears, the kind you would probably find in any allotment garden in the country. He walked purposefully towards a bush, snipped off a branch that had grown quite straight, freed it from its already brownish, dried leaves and then turned to the girl.
Grandma had also got up in the meantime. She energetically grabbed the little girl by the shoulder and forced her to lie face down across the table. Then she flipped up her skirt and – my heart was threatening to stop and I was on the verge of ejaculation – pulled her white panties down with a powerful tug.
You can imagine what followed. Grandpa took a swing and the little one got a thrashing like I had never experienced before. Grandma pressed her down firmly on the tabletop and she wriggled her legs wildly while shrieking uninhibitedly. I don’t remember how many lashes she received and I probably lost count in my excitement. But I’m sure that her little bottom was marked with countless criss-crossing welts afterwards. They would probably change into all the colors of the rainbow over the next few days and make it very difficult for her to sit.
When he had finished with her, she slid unsteadily off the table and became a twitching heap of misery that eventually rose up and disappeared into the darkness of the garden shed, while she clutched her battered buttocks tightly with both hands.
As I said, for me it was the beginning of a new realization about the peculiarities of my sexuality and it’s kind of a shame that I never had the opportunity to meet the young girl who had given me a powerful orgasm that Sunday afternoon.