About Switching

Well, I had an idea my honest blogging meme might stir up some interest. I don't know why I was surprised that what caught the most interest was the mention of my switching days. I shouldn't have been but I was.

So, as Hermione (and many others) requested I'll share a bit about it.

First, let me set the scene. Pictures do sometimes say it better than words can and I think our friend Homer here sums it up pretty well:




So how did I get myself into this mess? The internet, of course. I had been spanking on my own for years, but like many others when I found the internet I was delighted to find whole groups of people out there who shared the interest. I threw myself into the online communities with abandon, trading stories and ideas and soaking up all the things I never knew.

One idea I came across over and over again was that every Top ought to bottom a few times just to know what it's like. Supposedly it made you a better more empathic spanker, more able to get into the head of your spankee. I had my doubts. Well more like screaming objections, but I could see some logic to it.

Then Gerald Gardner bit me. Like many Pagans my first introduction to formal ritual came through Gardinian Wicca. As I contemplated the idea of trying the other end of things a line from one of the initiation rituals came back to me...even the High Priestess must suffer the lash. (Or something like that, Gardinian turned out to not be a good fit so I only read it the once.) Anyway with Gardner whispering in one ear and several smooth, charming men claiming that "of course" they'd taken their turn whispering in the other I finally gave in and made a few dates to try bottoming.

I'm afraid I can't share too many details. I'm not trying to hold out on anyone, it's just that I found the whole thing so unmoving and unremarkable that I don't really remember any of them.

Some things stand out: the guy who sent me snuff films, the jerk who after 2 im conversations decided I was to call him "Master" and ask his permission before making love to my husband, (yeah, right!) and the sweet, shy, European gentleman who took one look at me and just couldn't bring himself to lay a hand on me.

But most of the time I just found myself annoyed, frustrated and bored. I didn't understand it. I opened myself up as much as I could, tried several kinds of spanking, different implements and different partners (most of whom were decent and sincere), but aside from a little physical discomfort I never felt a thing. None of them seemed to truly understand me. Not one got into my head or touched me in any meaningful way. No matter what we tried we could not create the glowing bliss I'd so often read of or saw in those I put over my own knee.

There was one fairly nice session. I played a school girl complete with little denim jumper, white blouse, pigtails and black shoes with bows. The hand spanking didn't do much for me, but he was good company and I enjoyed playing the part. After the spanking he tucked me in for a nap. When I woke up he served me milk and chocolate chip cookies.

It was all very lovely...except for the bruises.

Pushed by my lack of response, I think he spanked harder than he meant to. Sitting in his kitchen I could feel the soreness was different from usual. I asked if he had a mirror so I could take a look at my bottom. He didn't have one, but he looked for me and said I seemed fine.

Less than a quarter hour later I was back home and changing when my husband walked into the bedroom and hit the roof. He let out a string of expletives, grabbed my arm and pulled me into the bathroom. There in the mirror I could see the large deep black and blue marks spreading across my pale cheeks.

I was thoroughly annoyed, with both the bruises and the deceit. (Really, I was home 10 minutes after he checked my bottom. I was deeply skeptical I went from "no sign" to full blooming bruises in that short a time. I know my body, my bruises don't get that bad that fast) but my husband was apoplectic. He was having a hard enough time letting someone hit me. Leaving marks was a capitol offense.

Eventually he calmed down but we didn't talk much the rest of the evening. The next day we had a long conversation about it. He told me he was starting to become concerned for my safety. Then he did something he'd promised he wouldn't do. He asked me to stop. He did tell me or demand or make ultimatums. He didn't even ask me to give up the spanking life all together. He just asked me not to bottom anymore.

It's hard to explain just what a huge thing that was. From the beginning we've had a very clear understanding about each others' "hobbies". It's not quite don't ask, don't tell (we often share details and sometimes partners) but it is an agreement not to interfere in each others choices. Yet here he was asking me to change a choice I'd made. And I agreed. It was becoming clear that bottoming wasn't a good fit and I was sick of wasting time and effort spinning my wheels.

So I put a end to my bottoming days and went back to the other side of the hairbrush where I belonged.

Ms. Betty