Pain or Pleasure?

What is it about pain that appeals to us spankos when we experience it on our nether regions? Why is it so pleasurable on our bottoms, yet quite unwelcome when we feel it on other parts of our body?

I had reason to ponder this anomaly last weekend when I was preparing dinner for some guests. I had filled some flattened chicken breasts with asparagus and cheese, rolled them up, secured them with toothpicks, and browned them in a skillet on the stove. Then I placed the skillet in the oven to finish cooking the chicken rolls. When they were done I removed the skillet from the oven, then decided it would be a good idea to remove the wooden toothpicks, so my guests would not injure themselves or accidentally eat them.

This proved more difficult than I thought. They refused to budge. I struggled to restrain a piece of chicken with tongs while I pulled at the hot toothpicks with my fingers. The pan started to spin, and in an effort to control it I grabbed the handle, forgetting that it had just come out of the oven. Yeowch! I let go immediately and rushed to the sink to put out the fire in my hand with cold water. But I couldn't linger; the food was cooling off.

"Ron," I called. "Can you get me the pliers?" I was determined to get those toothpicks out one way or another and put the meal on the table, in spite of the pain.

Ron came into the kitchen, took one look at my face and asked what was wrong. I showed him my hand and explained what had happened. After examining my burn, he obligingly fetched the pliers, but he was no more successful than I had been in removing the wooden objects. He declared that we would simply warn our guests about the embedded hazards, and together we plated the food. (I hope Gordon Ramsey doesn't find out about this. He would spank us both.)

While Ron carried the plates to the table, I ran upstairs, broke a stalk off my aloe vera plant, and pressed the jellylike interior against my blistered hand. It felt better immediately.

My hand throbbed all through dinner and for the rest of the evening. I endured it, but couldn't help wondering about the paradox. When I am spanked, the pain is much worse than what I was feeling in my hand, but pain from a spanking is also pleasurable. Why wasn't I enjoying my burning hand in the same way? Why was it just painful, but not in a good way?

I am always stoic about pain from injuries, and rarely make a fuss. I didn't tell our guests about my accident and did my best to conceal my discomfort. Spanking, on the other hand, makes me shout, squeal, and protest loudly. It's my way of showing my appreciation, I suppose. If I were to endure a spanking silently, Ron would probably think I wasn't enjoying it, and might even stop.

What about you? What are your thoughts on pain and how you handle it?