Hello, Voyeur

I claimed the title of Exhibitionist/Voyeur for my own last week. After a lifetime of writing and talking about spanking and sex, after more than a decade of posting pics to show off my ass, whether a blank canvas or a masterpiece of markings and a glimpse of drippy wet naughty bits, I announced bravely from the privacy of the bathtub to Mr. W, “I’m finally saying it. I’m an exhibitonist, and obviously a voyeur too. I’m owning it. This is me.” Duh. It was a little anticlimactic. I’ve always know that I wanted to stand out, and I’ve always wanted to connect with others over kink. Most of my life, I haven’t allowed myself to do so, but it’s been engrained from the start. I have new readers, so many of you haven’t heard my stories of sitting around with friends and neighborhood kids at my yellow and orange Playskool plastic picnic table, asking them to tell me about their spankings. Most would, eager to share their experiences. We were kids, so it was hand spankings, mom’s wooden spoons, and the very rare and shocking daddy’s belt. Boy did I wonder about that last one, it sounded so mean and intense. Sometimes we moved on before it was my turn and I was relieved, or if we got to me I’d make something up. I’d never been spanked. All I had were their real life experiences and my fantasies about them. All these kids really knew about me regarding spanking was that I was fascinated, perhaps obsessed. As just an innocent seven year old, I was given a lead role in the annual second grade Thanksgiving play, which was always a big deal in my school. I was cast as Mother in “Back to the Future at the Garrison House.” It was 1985 and “Back to the Future” had been the hit movie that summer, so naturally, our play was about time-traveling to the 17th century. Wild West my butt, Back to the Future III. We did it first and we took it farther back. In my colonial New England town, we had two historical buildings that were named for what they were - The Little Red Schoolhouse and The Garrison House. Later in town history, we built a ginger ale factory and named it after the town - Chelmsford Ginger Ale. Pilgrims - not great with making ginger ale or at naming things, considering the town name itself is a town in England, as are pretty much all the other townnames in Massachusetts, except for those with Native American origins. One thing about growing up in a colonial town with colonial events and “growing up colonial” history lessons is that you can’t avoid corporal punishment, especially when talking about school or how children should behave at home. I already knew from children’s literature that spanking was to be expected as a part of life - who didn’t want to be whipped by Pa’s strap in “Little House in the Big Woods,” or take a turn as “The Whipping Boy?” Then I had my friends and neighbors confirming my suspicions. Spanking was already everywhere for this little bookworm and schoolgirl voyeur. So what’s a girl to do when she finds out she’s playing a Pilgrim Mama and this is her big line in the school play? “GET TO BED CHILDREN, OR IT WILL BE THE SWITCH FOR YOU!!!” I had to say this to my friends, my classmates! In my black and white pilgrim dress and bonnett, clapping my hands after the line to indicate the sound of impending smacking. I knew what a switch was, knew it was birch, knew my children would have had to go outside and cut the branch themselves. I get shivers remembering, and I get shivers telling you about it now. As I begin to explore switching and femdom, I feel like that little girl all over again, wanting so desperately to be spanked, standing up in front of the world and saying the opposite, knowing deep down it’s just as true. Ever since that play, when I felt exposed to but not actually seen by my school, my teachers, and my family, I have wanted nothing more than to be exposed and seen daily. I think I’ve been screaming since I was seven, “Will someone please see me for who I truly am?” I grew up smart and weird, polite and awkward, fitting in everywhere and nowhere. I found boyfriends to play at play spanking by the time I was an older teen, but until Mr. W, I never did feel fully seen. Once we’d played, I also knew I’d never been fully spanked until he came along. My life since then has been figuring out just how much a person needs to be seen. How much I need to be seen. Is one person knowing who you truly are enough? Can you live a life doing your best impersonation of yourself, and every now and again you get to be the complete you, only to tuck her away again, polite and tidy? Your friends might have a little piece, the internet might have a little anonymous piece, your family probably doesn’t know a damn thing about you. Do you even know yourself, if you spend so little time with the real you? Over the course of adulthood, I stopped knowing myself, and eventually lost myself completely. No, I didn’t just stop knowing myself - I hated the me I thought I was. Every now and again I’d pop out and how up here on the blog, but it got to the point where even Mr. W wasn’t getting to see the me that any of us know and love. Fortunately, when I feel good, I really love myself and I think I have an absolute treasure trove of knowledge, passion, compassion, and enthusiasm to share here, in the world of kink, and in the world at large. That is why it still feels powerful to say that three years ago, I started myself on a path to get myself back, which began with five days in a behavioral health facility (a mental hospital) in January 2016. It has been an absolute fight to be the me who writes this today, but here I am, about to turn forty-one, and for the first time, more than ever in my life, I feel seen on a daily basis. Most importantly, I see and love myself. Every. Single. Day. Mr. W has loved every version of me because he knows that it’s always been me on the inside. I can finally look back on my life and love every version of me too, because whether I’ve been in hibernation, incubation, or secret old spanking videos, it’s all led to now, Abby standing on her little red soapbox, announcing this, that, and the other thing. I’m publishing this! I’m selling that! I’m getting spanked! I’m writing smut! And here’s my butt! Hello, Voyeur. I’m Abby, Exhibitionist. Voyeur. Spanko. Monogamous kink player. Erotica writer. Vintage smut librarian and purveyor of filth. Ass worshipper and worshippee. Goddess. Seven year old Abby was ashamed and embarrassed of listening to her school friends’ spanking stories and threatening to thrash them on stage. Forty-one year old Abby is proud and literally aroused to say the world is her stage and she is ready to be its star. That’s how good it feels to say this to anyone willing to listen/read/watch/experience. I am so happy you’re here. I couldn’t do any of this without you. I definitely couldn’t have made it here without Mr. W. I love you more than anything, Mister. Thank you for walking beside me when we are balanced, carrying me when I fall, and celebrating me when I rise. I wouldn’t have anywhere near as sexy a story to tell without you.