Spanking Is Essential To My Mental Health

“Do you want me to hit you?”

For many, this question would be a threat, a violent incitement, barroom brawl bait. But that’s not how I interpret it at all. My friend Georgia’s just asked me this in the sweetest tone of voice, her face filled with concern, as if she had asked if I wanted her to make me some chicken soup for my sniffles.

Tearfully, I nod, stand up, and bend over the end of Georgia’s sofa. This isn’t the first time she’s made this offer, nor the last time I’ll accept it. She retrieves her paddle, and the first blow lands on my ass with a dull, thunderous thwack.

I’ve been crying all evening, unable to stop. What was supposed to be a fun get-together has turned into a pity party for me and the bad depression day I’m having. I’ve talked my friends’ ears off about romances gone awry, career setbacks, familial disagreements — but the dire truth is, I’m sad because my brain is wired to be sad. My type-2 bipolar disorder is acting up, as it often does, and tonight that manifests as endless tears — and a desire to get my ass beaten until it’s bruised.

Spanking has been a kink of mine for a couple years, my favorite form of foreplay or a titillating treat all on its own. But in the past few months, I’ve started to use it as a mood-lifter when I’m depressed or anxious, too. It’s versatile…