We are jazzed to feature special guest blogger, Korey Johnson, of Blushing Books, who provides an informative and cherryredtastic account of the annual Texas All-State Spanking Party, which was held recently over four days in June — and record levels of heat were recorded that weekend in an already scorching hot Dallas, Texas.
“Honey, you’re going. We’ve already spent a fortune on new underwear.”
My husband, James, wanted to go to the Texas All-State Spanking Party. He wanted to go last year, too, but I really, really wasn’t comfortable with the idea of putting my ass over a stranger’s knee.
I don’t care what past boyfriends have said about my ass; never in my life have I ever looked at my ass with anything less than absolute and utter loathing.
The new, fancy underwear was bought as a shameful ruse to make me feel better about showing my butt to strangers.
I knew nothing about spanking parties… nothing except that there is a lot of show-and-tell. I knew that partners spanked one or each other in front of others at the parties, and I knew that strangers spanked each other.
I’d spent five years talking myself into going to one. But as the minutes rolled closer and closer to this gathering of spankos where I was certain my butt would come out and make its first public appearance, I found myself chickening out.
I was not beyond squeezing every excuse I could. Besides, we were moving that week out-of-state… We didn’t have time to go, and I told him so.
James was having none of it. He put his hand on both sides of my arms. “We’re making the time. This is good for us. We’ll make friends, make connections, and trust me — everyone will think you’re beautiful. If you hate it, we can just hang out in Dallas. Okay?”
I nodded, pouting. I knew that it wasn’t over, though. I was certain that I was going to freak out later on, too.
But for that moment, I chewed down my fears and watched James as he collected every implement we ever owned, strops and paddles, even the one James carved himself when he got his first miter saw and belt sander two years ago…
And then he went and found all the wooden spoons in the house, overly optimistic that he was going to find any girl that actually liked being spanked with that most simplistic yet most horrible of implements.
We meant to get to the hotel by five… so we pulled in at one o’clock in the morning, and then walked into the hotel, looking at people around us and wondering, “Are they part of this? Are they spankos?” and smiling coyly at the poor bastard checking us in.
He had to have known a spanking party was being arranged upstairs, but he didn’t let on. He even made eye contact, bless his heart — although we avoided it, but we were feeling pretty naughty just grabbing the keys to our room.
But then we got to the second floor. At first, there was nothing special — it was just a Crown Plaza hotel — clean, normal… But even from the elevator, we could hear a distant, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK…
This would be the sound that we’d hear in the morning, noon, and night for the next three days. I was too nervous to look down the hallway and rushed through the hotel and into my room. James went to try to register us for the party and to report back what he saw.
He saw Kyle Johnson (no relation) spanking his girlfriend, Stevie, in the first room that he looked in. Stevie is the cutest little thing in the world and Kyle, reputed to be quite a firm spanker, loves his job. I expect it was quite a sight. Either way, James came back grinning like a naughty kid. “This is gonna be awesome!”
I had long decided that I was going to approach this like a professional. I had looked forward to merely attending the demonstrations and presentations that were scheduled throughout the day, figuring I’d come home after the end of the day and work on my week’s update at Blushing Books and that would be that.
The next day, I would go to the vendors fair and play at being far more cool and confident than I am.
We were late for the first demonstration, but it was better that way because we came in and Pandora Blake, already completely nude and soon to register in my mind as one of the sexiest, most confidently powerful women I’ve ever seen, was teaching how to properly cane Princess Kelley, the party hostess.
She was laying bottoms-up beneath her, sacrificing her skin to welts, looking like she was laying there in absolute bliss as Pandora was telling us how to touch, what to do and what not to do, what she likes, what others like — Pandora was a walking BDSM Wikipedia.
I’d never been in a room with a sexual display between two women before, that was for sure, so I just watched, trying to look cool and calm even though I nearly had to scoop up my eyeballs.
And it was a great lecture, great enough that I bought a cane and was thinking about Pandora’s technique, the tapping, how to make it sensual. I’d also never seen a tawse used, well, outside of vintage photographs from the 1920s.
But that day the tawse made an appearance in the lecture as well, and I was educated as to how this whipping wasn’t all about pain, it was also a soothing act and a type of sensation play.
And then I heard the word “subspace” for the first time.
The whole weekend-long party, spanning from Thursday night to Sunday night, was filled with words like “the scene,” “subspace,” “tops,” “bottoms,” “switches,” “dungeon,” “sensation play,” and “vanilla.”
Some I had heard of, some not. I didn’t know that at parties like this — just being there, you could feel a bit of a giggly, excitable high that wouldn’t go away as long as you were attending.
The feeling wasn’t as specific as “subspace,” which, I was told, is a different sort of high that lets people enjoy being dominated and can allow them to become disconnected from the pain in a way that makes them able to take A LOT of spanking. I experienced an endorphin high.
But I was watching Pandora’s lecture like a college student might, with eyes wide and my brain stumbling along to make notes and to learn.
And then Dana Specht presented her lecture on “scolding.” She had us laughing in stitches. She was dressed with high-heels, looking so stylish and sophisticated…so very “Top.” And she was wonderful.
James and I sat on the floor in the very front of the room, like kids watching their favorite TV show and constantly looking at each other to exchange winks and wide-eyed expressions of shock as Dana gave THE best lead-ups to her spanking roleplays with a variety of people.
The talented Sarah Gregory, the beautiful Amelia Jane Rutherford (who was hellishly funny with her cute coy smile as she admitted to Dana she wasn’t wearing panties, and then was spanked until she promised to buy some).
The presentation wasn’t just for the models, either. Dana turned around and asked for volunteers from the audience, and one by one they each fell into the little roleplay that Dana made up on the spot, each one as entertaining as the next.
It was the most fast-moving hour of my life. James and I laughed until our sides hurt, but the hotness of what we were seeing didn’t escape us.
We next witnessed an informational presentation by Miss Chris and Jenny Mack about ageplay, their relationship, and what it meant and things that they do.
We left before the “Taipan” and bondage presentations and are hitting ourselves for not sitting in on it because supposedly they were fantastic. Everybody was talking about how fascinating it was, but we were starved and had to go forage.
After the presentations we saw, James turned to me and said, “I don’t care what happens the rest of the weekend. That was worth the cost of the whole damn thing.”
I nodded, still with an excited blush. “Agreed… Wow. Well… It’s not like that could be topped!”
I was wrong. So, so wrong. The party COULD top the demonstrations, and it did.
The party wasn’t expensive. It was $120 for both of us to attend on a couple’s pass, which was mind-bogglingly reasonable. This paid for everything: a goodie bag, badges, and two dinners and a brunch. It was an amazingly great value. I don’t know how they did it, especially considering that the catering staff had to have been well-paid.
Really, the vanillas that were catering the whole thing were entertainment in themselves.
James and I watched with entertainment as “Tubaman” (our gracious, very patient host) would haul Sarah Gregory or Princess Kelley (our beautiful hostesses) over his knee while the hotel staff would try their darndest to ignore what was happening, and their darndest wasn’t very successful.
Some would just watch from the doorways of the kitchens, unblinking and wondering how they were going to tell their friends about this after work.
Their boss must have put the fear of death in them to keep all those workers’ smartphones in their pockets, even though they were surely itching to take pictures of the madness all around them.
James and I wandered in to watch the Naughty Schoolgirls’ party, which had of course already started. It was delicious chaos. We watched as a room full of girls bratted firm-looking Catholic-schoolmaster tops into giving them tons and tons of spankings.
I quickly realized that everyone in the world owned a schoolgirl uniform but myself — I must have thrown mine out when I stopped being a schoolgirl (apparently, I was very short-sighted).
So, I just sat in the “observers seating,” chewing my bottom lip off as I was trying to find one place to watch. I couldn’t do it. There was spanking going on everywhere.
Uncle Bob the DJ, Dana Spect, Tubaman, and Kyle Johnson, just to name a few (there were also mistresses and maitresses), were spanking girls left and right. Girls were spanking each other, even.
My new friend Joe, who I’d met earlier in the day, found himself bent over the table as the only naughty ‘schoolboy,’ and quite a few of the women were more than willing to stand in line to spank him… And then when their turn was up, some would sneak right back to the end of the line.
In short, it was fun for all. James brought me back so I could quickly get some work done, and somehow we got to the ‘meet and greet’ a couple of hours later on time… Well, close to on-time, anyway.
Then the party organizers passed James and me different scavenger-hunt lists. We were supposed to go around, chatting to people, trying to get signatures on a sheet of paper answering questions like, “Find a Top who never went to a spanking party before,” “Find a Top who wrote a blog post about spanking,” etc. Once we found someone to sign their name off on our scavenger-hunt list, a ‘bottom’ like me was supposed to let the signee get at least five swats on my bottom.
I stopped feeling smooth. I remembered that I’d never let a stranger spank me before, and I was looking at a list with about fifteen empty spaces for signatures. James seemed to notice. “Are you okay? We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want.”
“No, no… no… Unless YOU don’t want to do this?” I said, trying to be the allowing wife. My tone was hopeful.
Well, James did want to. He took my hand and led me into the middle of the room. “Let me fill out a few lines, okay? You don’t have to…”
I was approached immediately. James was, too. All at once I’m chatting, filling out my name next to slots like, “Find a bottom that wrote a spanking book” — no problem, I’ve written six of them. He signed my paper as well.
Afterwards, I looked at him awkward and expectantly. I finally remembered that I had promised myself not to be a complete chicken, so I wiggled my bottom and said, “A couple of smacks, then?” with all the courage I could muster.
His eyes lit up and he nodded, “Yes, indeed,” and I turned around. Smack, smack, smack!
I turned around and we hugged. I was blushing to the bone, but I realized it wasn’t so bad… In fact, it wasn’t bad at all.
It was exhilarating.
I’d just been spanked… by a man I’d just met, and I still had so many slots to fill out! Sure, there was a shortage of pens, and I’m enough of a spaz to sometimes sign the wrong spot or to accidentally steal my partner’s paper. I had to bat eyelashes and plead and even steal pens out from under folk who weren’t paying attention. But the conversations were so fun, and so exciting, and no big deal.
I was in the biz, after all, and lots of people seemed interested. And then I realized I could brag about what I do — publish spanking novels — and I felt cool about it.
Sure, I have to hide what I do on family reunions. My parents aren’t people who can hold up their heads high and say, “My daughter’s the COO of a publication company… which sells spanking novels…” But here, I could hold my head up high.
I lost track of James for a while, but eventually I walked up to a new friend to whom James was bragging about how we met on SpankingInternet, and we were happily married.
“So it’s actually possible!” our new friend exclaimed, clapping his hands together, his eyes bright with excitement.
Little did I know, but two spankos meeting through the “scene” and living happily ever after was exciting stuff! And it was great to tell the truth about how we met for once.
We had a fun dinner together and then walked off to prepare for going around to different suite parties to spank and to get spanked. I’m a bit of a voyeur, you see.
I like watching my husband spank other women — I like it way, way too much, probably. But my husband’s so sexy when he spanks that I can’t help myself. He’s so good at it, and I never get to appreciate how hot he is when he’s spanking someone, because normally he’s spanking me, and I’m too busy being in pain to appreciate it.
In the very first room we entered, a spanko pulled me over his knee (after asking politely first, I admit) for a very long ‘warming’ spanking which left me quite red, although not terribly sore. He left my skirt and panties in place, at James’ request, since I had promised James (or, rather, he had informed me) that he would be the first to spank my bare bottom in public.
Afterwards, now quite in the mood, James marched me into another party room, took me over his knee, and gave me some stern spanks, working in some lecturing about my horrible packing abilities that everyone who has read “Attitudes” knows about.
He then made me take off my panties, and exposed my bright red bare bottom to the room. After some additional spanking, he stood me up and smoothed my skirt back into place… and then marched me down the hallway to another party, without my panties on.
In that room, he finished my first public, bare bottom spanking with a long, firm set of swats with his hand, before taking his time to thoroughly rub my bottom.
One moment I’m Korey Mae Johnson: prude extraordinaire.
The next second I’ve been spanked and marched around half-clothed and been told I was a naughty girl in front of half the party. Nobody seemed to mind, either. They seemed to actually enjoy my husband parading my red ass all around the place.
But I was hooked. I talked for a while with a couple of other spankos I’d just met. My own buns were extremely sore already, but I agreed to another spanking from one of them as long as it could wait until the next day. But I still feel bad that I never found again the spanko to get that spanking from him — there were just so many people at the party in so many different rooms!
Still, I had to go back to work so I treaded down the hallway, side-sweeping around a man marching down the hallway with a paddle the size of China, led by James, who decided I was going to get to the bedroom with my ass intact.
I was so happy when I woke up the next morning, work done. Now I could just focus on the party. By the time we rolled out of bed in the morning, we were able to stumble right into the vendors fair.
The vendor fair wasn’t a vendor fair like you’re probably thinking of — it was a spanko carnival. There was even a charity for cancer research going on at one of the tables, auctioning off a plethora of spanking implements or books.
The ability to try out all the implements on the market was too big of a temptation to miss. We were there for hours, pausing for spanking bingo. James and I were also talking up Blushing Books to everyone who would listen.
Eventually, James went one direction to talk with one of the vendors, and I got ushered to a table with a bunch of ducks sitting on it. “Choose two ducks!” a man said with a devilish grin.
I looked at the table, tapping my lip apprehensively with my fingernail. The ducks he was referring to were so damn cute. They were little bathtub toys! I chose one and looked at the bottom. “3” I cocked my head to the side.
And I then realized that there were implements on the table that I didn’t see because of the cuteness of the ducks. And these implements were all numbered. Three was the cane.
“Hahaha… The cane.” My cheeks flushed. I had never been caned before. I was bragging about it five minutes before, when I bought one because they were so damn satisfying to carry around and threaten my husband with while he sternly gazed at me and ordered me to stop swinging it around before I poked someone’s eye out. “How awesome…”
“Pick one of those ducks! See how many strokes you get!”
I looked over at the cute yet very evil little ducklings, praying for a low number. I picked 14 and gasped, my eyes wide. I showed it to the other doms/tops that were gathered around, hoping to get sympathy so I’d get to choose again. “Oh, that’s not so bad at all!” they assured me, waving their hands without care through the air.
They were right. Later on, I’d learn that there was an especially wicked duck with a ‘100’ on the bottom of it. “Okay…” I gulped.
I was told to bend over and present my bottom. The firm, dominant looking man who had brought me to the table set the cane on my skirted bottom (the skirt was very short and was not doing a great job at preserving my modesty). As he played with the lousy skirt hem and then raised it out of the way, he told me that he’d give me the first seven before he pulled my panties down. “Do you want sting or thud?”
Sting or thud? Never been asked that question before. “Um… What’s the difference?” I asked, feeling stupid. I’m supposed to be a professional, and I knew none of the lingo.
“One’s more of a surface pain. The other is more of a deep ache.”
“Ah.” All I heard was “pain”, and remembered how much I didn’t like pain — or so I thought. I choose at random: “Sting, then… I guess.” I wanted to be a good sport, and I had a small audience. So, flinching and laughing nervously, I waited as the cane tapped against my bottom, and I held my breath. He seemed to wait until I wasn’t clenching, and then I gasped with the sharp sting of the first stroke.
But then it wasn’t so bad. It was even pleasant in its own way. I just didn’t know that it was pleasant until around stroke four, when I realized that even though I was nervous, flinching, clenching, and gasping, and being a total lightweight, I was enjoying myself before the panties even came down.
James later told me that there was nothing hotter than when a husband looks around the room for a wife and sees a small crowd watching her bare ass up in the air, taking her first caning. Afterwards, James was excited enough to ask the man for a lesson on how to give a caning properly.
I do blame the cane a little for the bruises I still had on my ass until the next Thursday, but I was still enjoying the attention. I hadn’t gotten much of that in my life, so this was a first for me.
James brought me back to the room afterwards and we had some pretty impressive sex before we got ready for another night of partying and me getting spanked by others, preceded by a dinner with entertainment by Princess Kelley and Sarah Gregory (they don’t get to sing in spanking videos, but trust me — they are both very good!), Black Velvet, and Art-a-Miss (who did a stand-up comedy routine that had us in stitches).
Afterwards, we quickly dispersed to suite parties again, where during the course of the night I was tied up half-naked in what could only be described as the “diaper position” while my husband spanked me in front of several people I’d only just met. He assures me that I enjoyed that part especially…
All told, the party was a blast. I met so many friends, had so many good conversations, and I could barely sit down the next day. That day I had brunch with our friend Joe, who filled me in on what I’d heard through the grapevine, which was that Pandora Blake gave him quite a strapping — making his entire weekend.
The pictures of his bruised ass he took with his phone were impressive, too, and he was more than happy to show them around.
Pandora eventually sat across the table, and we finally got to talk about websites and producing historical settings in spanking movies. Every now and then I’d look over to another table to watch Amelia Jane Rutherford, who might actually be made out of sugar and spice and everything nice, show off her Texas souvenir of some ridiculously cute cowboy boots that I immediately wanted to steal right off her feet.
James had been drawn to her table, and was trying to play it cool while at the same time feeling like a basketball fan sitting at the table with Michael Jordan.
I was already sad, though, knowing everything was coming to an end. It was probably better really, since I couldn’t eat my bagel without squirming uncomfortably in my seat, even though I was laughing and loving all my new friends.
We were talking so excitedly on the way home about everything that happened that we drove an hour and a half in the wrong direction (which made a three-hour trip a six-hour trip). We were halfway to Oklahoma City before we noticed, despite how many dozens of times we’d driven from Dallas to Austin.
It was like an adult summer-camp, and James and I can’t wait for the next party. Supposedly, this was the largest Texas spanking party yet, and we hope that every party will get bigger and bigger with spankos like you.
If you’ve never been to a spanking party before, I suggest you try it.
I came home walking on clouds with the self-confidence normally reserved for fictional superheroes. James and I couldn’t get enough of talking to other spankos — people that grew up knowing that they were a little different, that reading every book with spanking in it wasn’t usual childhood behavior.
It was a fraternity, a group, a time to be proud of who we were together.
I can definitely say my eyes were opened, and I look forward to meeting more spankos in the future — until then, I’m experimenting with caning and finding this thing called “subspace.”
I have my work cut out for me until the next time where spankos can unite!
Where do you go to be part of the party? Fetlife. To be a part of the next Texas All-State Spanking Party, join Fetlife and join the group! And don’t forget about your local spanking parties or look up groups like Crimson Moon and Shadow Lane, who throw spanking parties every year.
There’s lots out there, so I hope every spanko finds one to go to. It will be an eye-opening, heart-stopping experience.
Just don’t let your hand (or bottom) get too worn out.