[Once upon a time in the summer of 2000, for a very brief couple of months, the usenet provider Newsguy paid me to write some articles on spanking. It was great fun being paid for writing about something I write about for free and I really enjoyed it. Sadly, they never found a way to do the age protection they felt the "adult" writing needed so my gig ended after only four articles. Still, I did love doing it. This is one of the pieces I produced.]
First, to understand this piece you have to know how much I love shopping. I really do. I can have fun doing shopping of any sort in any place – even the grocery store. My significant (as opposed to the insignificant ones?) other, Pablo Stubbs would tell you this was because I like to spend money, and while I can’t really argue with that, I think it’s also because of my own personal spanking-shopping game which I’ve happily played by myself in almost every store I’ve been in since childhood.
The game isn’t hard In fact, I imagine you’ve already figured it out. Basically in addition to anything else I’m shopping for, I look for something that could be used to spank me. Sometimes I overlay this game with a fantasy of needing to find the most severe implement possible in order to satisfy the whim of some cruel, dominant type. I’m, of course, their naughty, naughty girl. It’s sort of an urban girl variation on the ‘go out and cut your own switch’ theme. So I look at pervertables* [see note below]: ping-pong paddles, leather belts, wooden spoons, rulers, cheese boards, hairbrushes – I could go on here, but you probably have the picture. I don’t generally buy anything, but I always look.
As I said, I can do this anywhere in any sort of store. But my favorite is an antique store, or better yet, a flea market. Flea markets are the perfect places to look for pervertables. After all, there’s a huge variety of stuff and it’s all randomly spread out and mixed up so I need to search. There’s the thrill of the chase and all. In addition to variety, there are, of course, other reasons for looking at flea markets. As your grandparents surely mentioned in other contexts, they made things differently way back when. So when I go to search at antique stores and flea markets, I generally am looking to buy.
Now something I’ve discovered is that when I go to antique stores alone or with spanking friends I rarely find as good stuff as I do when I go with non-spanking friends to whom explaining the reason why I need a heavy leather razor strop with lovely brass fittings involves complex and creative invention (you know, lying). I consider this fact (and trust me, it is one) a lesser known of Murphy’s Laws. This being true, I of course find the very best pervertables when I go flea market shopping with my father.
Like me, my father loves flea markets and always has his own little quest for the day. Last month when we went he was looking for a fishing tackle box. I was helping him, and meanwhile playing my own little game and also looking for just the right wedding present for some spanko friends.
In keeping with the law cited above, that Sunday was apparently kinky fetish day at the flea market. Despite rumors on soc.sexuality.spanking that they are relatively rare, I saw about six different heavy razor strops at four different stalls, though three smelt of some funky mold or mildew so they wouldn’t have been as good to purchase. Another few vendors had different variations on the souvenir "board of education" fanny/spanking paddles. They were less than $10.00. Fortunately I didn’t see the ‘cute little deer’ paddle I paid way too much for on eBay last year or my frugal heart would have broken. Plaid school uniforms abounded and, further proving that it really was kinky day, there on a table with some old farm tools were a pair of nineteenth century iron or steel manacles (as opposed to handcuffs) which the vendor confided really should be in a museum, but that he would let me have for a mere $40.00. I demurred, despite knowing that several friends would weep for them.
The irresistible find came at a stall filled with depression glass. There, on a cracked bit of mirror was an oval wood hairbrush, its bristles still intact. Now, I don’t need an oval wooden hairbrush. They are evil and painful, plus the significant other I mentioned above gave me the most painful one on earth. But still. Here was a lovely one, for $6.00. Its only flaw was some chips in the finish on the back. The vendor came over; it was late in the morning and she was starting to pack up.
Now logically I knew that no one had any reason to be suspicious of me for looking at an old brush. And I’ve come a long way in the past three years. But still, my heart thudded and I’m sure I blushed as I talked with her. I bought it (after haggling the price down to $4.00 of course). I told my dad it was for a friend who collected vanity items.
Oh, my dad didn’t find the right tackle box. We’ll have to go back again next month.
*’pervertable’ refers to an everyday item (such as a wooden spoon) which is perverted from its original purpose to new and improved use by kinky types (you know dear reader, people like you). Advantages of pervertables is that they’re generally cheaper and easier to explain than say, a leather paddle. Though my feeling is you probably need the leather paddle too, of course.