I have loved all the books I’ve written; each of them is special to me in different ways and “Answering to Him” is no exception. This book holds something very dear and personal to me, as might be the case with some of you readers: the plight of being a closet spanko. Like Alicia in the book, I also read and reread stories that “just happened” to have spanking scenes. Like her, I also waited until several years into my marriage to confess these secret desires. I think often of how blessed I am to be in a community of wonderful authors who encourage and indulge my Spanko tendency. Hopefully I am helping other readers out there indulge in theirs!
Ever since I could remember, I had been trapped by a single word: spanking. For some reason that I couldn’t begin to explain those two syllables had a knee-weakening power over me. Every time I heard them, my stomach flipped in a way that was as exciting as it was puzzling. I could still remember, with vivid recall, a moment in the supermarket when, out of the corner of my eye, I’d seen a man yank his wife’s arm, drawing her close to him. I’d turned toward the scene, wondering what was going on. The husband had bent his head, hissing in her ear, just loud enough for me, standing two feet away to hear: “You’re getting a spanking when we get home, young lady! Yes, I’m going to make sure you won’t sit comfortably for a while!”
Although never one to enjoy my own parental punishments, I’d still felt my tummy launch into a series of startling flips that made my pulse speed up. I didn’t understand it, but I felt my cheeks heat up with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Almost three decades later I could still remember the flush of anger on that man’s face and the remorseful tears that had filled his wife’s eyes. The memory still filled me with a sense of eager anticipation and unexplainable shame.
If ever I happened to be reading a book and happened to come across a spanking taking place, my body would jolt at the unexpected treasure, and I would read and reread the scene over and over again, memorizing the page numbers and savoring every word. I’d looked up the word spanking in the dictionary more times than I could count, and knew the definition by heart: to strike especially on the buttocks with the open hand. See also thrash and whip. Such simple words, and yet the emotion they inspired in me was profound.