On Writing Spanking and Other Musings

I have tried to write this four times. Each time I've made the mistake of trying to write it at the end of my day and I've been more tired than usual for no conceivable reason. I am now writing this at 10 am in the morning so it will actually get written.

I went on a walk-run this morning. It's springtime where I live and it was fragrant. I couldn't name for you all the kinds of flowers we have blooming here but it's "cherry blossom tree prevalent." Can that be a scent name? We have cherry blossom trees lining the streets in my neighbourhood. The lilacs have not come yet, but they are next. Lilacs are a favourite of mine. I have several lilac bushes in my front yard, and a Korean Lilac tree Mr. Mock bought for me when moved into our first place together. It's a small tree, about my height (5 foot three inches) and so we brought it with us to the house we live in now, where he planted it in the ground.

That's a funny story, actually. Or maybe just to me. But let's just say the planting of the tree did not go smoothly because the roots were strong and had attached themselves to the clay pot it was living in. Poor thing, tryna spread its roots, confined only to the dominion of the pot. If you're like me, you believe that plants can feel all that you do to them and I was concerned about tearing at the roots for torture reasons. Mr. Mock was concerned for more functional reasons, like it might kill the plant if its roots were too massacred (which he was not wrong about). In any case the only solution was to smash the pot much to Mr. Mock's regret. I did not care about the pot so much. So there we were, smashing a clay pot in the front yard with a little hammer, me laughing hysterically as the neighbours (who didn't know us yet since we were new to the neighbourhood) walked by, probably wondering what the hell we were doing and what kind of crazy people had just moved in. In the end, the tree made it safely into the ground and blooms happily every year. No lilac trees were harmed or tortured but the clay pot did not survive.

Okay, but you're not here to hear about my lilac tree! I wanted to talk about spanking.

If you've been around my works awhile, you know that I am a spanking fanatic. Like, to the nth degree, over the top crazy. If you're new here, "Hi, I'm Mock and I write all the spanking." It's common knowledge that no one is safe from being spanked in my stories. I specifically write male/male spanking as that's where my interest lies.

The really cool thing I've found after writing this topic for seven years, is that there are others like me out there who enjoy this sort of thing. The particular kind I like is a non-sexual version. This is not to say I dislike the sexual kind. I do write it from time to time and even enjoy it some in other fics, but it's not what I'm most attracted to.

I like non-sexual spanking most. This is why I tend to write in the domestic discipline arena. I love writing about all the rules and all of the tiny intricacies that go along with having rules---like thinking about the rules, complaining about them, deciding "fuck the rules" and breaking them! Oh and the warnings to, "Follow the rules, or else!"

I know I go overboard at times and probably one of the biggest critiques I get, is that I spend too much time talking about them in the stories I write. I don't disagree with this critique, but trouble is that's what I'm here to write. The story becomes lifeless to me and my interest wanes when I don't at least have a little of these musings within.

However, I have been working for years to strike a balance so that my muse is appeased and readers are not (too) annoyed. Like with everything though, some will still think it too much and some not enough. All in all, I think the story can still be enjoyed if bits must be skipped. Thing is, it's taken me a long time to reconcile all of these things within me. The stuff I've "figured out" about myself and am now able to articulate, I like to put into the books just in case someone else is out there having the same struggle I did. I don't presume to know all, there's a lot about this "thing" inside me I'm still figuring out and everyone's experience is different. But I can't help thinking that if I've finally found a way to explain an aspect to myself in a way that's helped me, that maybe there will be someone else out there that could benefit as well. I've had many readers write to me and tell me they've found what I've wrote helpful to their personal journeys. I'm definitely not here to tell anyone "how-to" anything, but if I can be a sounding board or provide some helpful musings, I want to do that.

In particular, I enjoy the family feels. This is why usually, my spanking stories will have a family theme to them whether that's "Found Family" or "Blood Family."

I also enjoy the ranges of dynamics. People have a need to want to label themselves. I understand this. Giving yourself a label means you belong somewhere. Nothing wrong with this. If people need the label to feel they belong, I think they should have it. The trouble is, with labels, usually come a list of qualities and characteristics that "you are now," and you may not resonate with said characteristics. This makes it more confusing.

For instance, there's an idea that if you're a "Top," you only ever do 'Top-like' things and if you're a brat, you only ever do 'brat-like' things.

While I do write some generalizations of this kind (because on some level it's super fun and hey, I enjoy the feeling of belonging as much as the next person) I usually have characters push the "norms" of their "box." I also write how much each can vary even if they "mostly resonate" with any one group.

This is not to confuse people. This is to say, "It's okay to be your authentic self even within your so-called grouping." It's also okay to just be and find that other person who matches your particular kind of whatever.

Which leads me into another theme I write over an over: Acceptance. To me, the world could do with a little more acceptance. We want people to be like us. When we disagree on topics, especially big and triggering topics, we want to, 'change that out of the person.' In my stories, people may not like particular qualities about another character but they still love them. Often because of the thing they don't like. They come to appreciate their differences about each other... even if sometimes these differences drive each other crazy!

And somehow, all of these ideas tie together with spanking. It's the language they speak.

Spanking as a language came to me because of some of my own personal experiences with spanking. When two people are wired this way, one as a spanker and one as a spankee, the spanking does most of the talking. I keep trying to show this in my stories in a myriad of ways, but I don't know that I'll ever quite be able to translate this feeling into words.

Xavier's School of Discipline, the series, is kinda my attempt at it. Years ago, I wrote a story (some of you know it, my fan fiction work Big Daddy Dean) that was my original attempt at this. It was my Spanking 101 story. It was okay (and people enjoyed it) but I've grown since then and have had more experiences and can better articulate it. I can do better than this.

As Finn learns more about himself, we learn about this idea of spanking as a language. Plus, some cool thoughts about dynamics. There's also a spanking love story!

All right, this is longer than I'd planned but I'll come back to write more on spanking if there is interest. I'm also open to hearing your experiences, feels and stories. This is a personal journey and we're all bound to take something different with us along the way. I find all of it fascinating. I'm even willing to open up a group for it if anyone would be into this? Let me know.

Just a few more days (APRIL 21ST!) guys and you'll get to read it. I'm so excited to share it with you! It's been called heartwarming, and I think that's a good descriptor for what you're in for. It's a light book but I wrote it for comfort. You can get your dose of excitement, angst, pain, and wildness in Tristan II! Ha!

For now, I'll leave you with this excerpt. Wouldn't it match and be perfectly fitting for me to insert a spanking excerpt here? It would but I didn't, lol! Sorry. The trouble is most of the spankings in this book connect to something and they don't quite have the same feel without all the pieces. Plus, I need to save something for the book. Instead, a sweet moment between Will and Finn to warm you on this fine spring day.

Xavier's School ~ Chapter 13

A week later, I’m in bed alone—it’s a rare occurrence these days, but it does happen—my mind loud and whirring. I choke sobs into my pillow until my throat is raw, while pathetic thoughts war for territory. Trying to shut them up is exhausting.

I do this for too long. The night ages.

Go, to him Finn.

My bare feet hit cool, laminate wood and carry me over a familiar path down the hall and to the right, without conscious thought. I stand in front of his door, at war with myself: I’ll be fine, it will pass. Don’t wake him for something so trivial. He needs sleep.

You said that last night, Finnegan.

I remember what I promised Xavier. I also remember I’ll be yawning all morning like I did this morning, and no one’s going to buy my excuse about drinking too much water before bed a second day in a row. I wish I could do this only because I promised Xavier I would, but that’s not how I work and it’s the latter that gives me the extra push I need.

Ani’s hairbrush on your bare ass at the breakfast table is not a fun wake up. That clicks for me. It reminds me: I’m supposed to do this. They want me to bother them.

I draw a frayed breath that chafes my raw throat and open the door.

“Um, Will?” I say, trying to hide that I’m crying.

We’ve formed a special relationship over the two years I’ve been with the House. Yeah, he’s the teddy bear Grayson and I share, but he’s more than that. He’s a wall, a net, a best friend, a lover, a disciplinarian.

He’s Will.

Will.

The gentle, but firm cowboy is the only person I can imagine going to when the emotions driving me to distraction are still ill-formed impressions. Ones I don’t know how to talk about.

He rubs his eyes and opens his comforter for me. “C’mere, darlin’. You okay?”

I bound onto the bed. “No Grayson tonight?” Grayson rarely sleeps alone.

“He’s with Ani.”

I nod into his chest and now that I’m here, I let go and cry some more. He encourages me to cry until I’m done. “You ready to talk about it?”

“No, but I’m under orders.”

“Xavier didn’t mean you don’t get privacy.”

“No, but he was pretty clear he didn’t want me chewing on stuff and that I should come to one of you if I was doing that. I am.”

“I appreciate that, and I know he will too.” He kisses the top of my head. “Jus’ get it out best you can. Even if it’s messy, we’ll clean it up like always, okay?”