My ass has been spanked by so many hands— some thick and calloused others smooth and tender masculine and feminine in ways that don’t always conform to their owner’s gender. Blindfold me, and I’d like to say I could identify each touch— Like to think I would flinch at a slap from a hand that had grabbed my pussy, uninvited, and pinched. Like to think I would soften at a spanking from a palm that had rubbed my back, soothed my fears. Fingers that brushed a stray hair from my face, dried a tear. But the truth is: Despite all I’ve experienced in this strange profession of mine—despite all the kind and cruel clients, all the women I’ve worked beside and loved in different ways, different times— Despite all this, one certainty I’ve learned: A slap is a slap. The impact of hard hand against malleable skin will have its desired effect upon one who was born to give in. Rip the blindfold off; I will keep my eyes closed, gaze down, head hung. That old song—hurt- me-love-me-hurt-me-love-me— sounds the same no matter in what key it’s sung. ____
Stephanie Parent is a writer and editor whose poems have been nominated for a Rhysling Award and Best of the Net. She also worked for six years as a professional submissive and switch at a commercial dungeon in Los Angeles.