A Conversation With George

"Hello, my name is … Oh well, never mind, you wouldn't be able to pronounce it anyway. Why don't you just call me George." He … she … whatever, extended a tentacle to me. I took it tentatively. It felt kind of rough … a lot like sharkskin.

"So, err George," what is it you want to know?" I asked.

"Sexual mating rituals," George replied.

I blushed.

"Oh, I am sorry." my tentacled friend replied, "We know much of your language, but little of your culture. That is why we are here. I didn't mean to offer offense.

"It's OK." I shrugged. "It's just that sex is a very private thing on this planet."

George nodded the appendage I took for its head. I took that as a sign of understanding. "On our planet, we have no sex. People are born pregnant, if you will. There is no need for insemination - only incubation and birth. We find your method of reproduction most interesting. The physical aspects of reproduction are well understood. What we don't understand is the social interaction between the sexes of your species that accompany the physical act of copulation. I have been sent to investigate the ritual called spanking. Others have assignments in oral sex, bondage, and many other aspects of the sexual experience that we have read about in your documentation on the topic; which I must say is impressively extensive."

In defense of homo sapiens everywhere I said, "Well, it is important to the continuation of our race."

George cleared his throat and continued. "You were identified as an expert in spanking.

"Me? How can that be? I mean I have an interest …"

"Your name is prominent in those archives called soc.sexuality.spanking."

"Oh," I said with sudden comprehension.

"What we don't understand is how a disciplinary action - something that is intended to deter children from behaving in certain ways - can be used as an erotic stimulus."

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain," I fumbled. "Let me ask you a question - do you people even have asses?"

"Well, we have a means of waste elimination, but it is not at all comparable to the primitive system we've observed in the mammalian order on this planet."

"It's a shame. Tushies are very nice things to have. You can sit on them, you can kiss them, you can kick them, or you can spank them. Some are just so … so … spankable. Don't you have anything like it at all in your culture?"

"We don't … ahem … sense things the way you do. What you would call our skin senses much in the same way your ears hear. I understand that there is a similar phenomenon among you humans. Some of you claim to be able to 'feel' sounds. Both senses work on similar principles. Impressions are made and our brains interpret them, but we don't feel pain or warmth or any other of the sensations you do."

"Interesting," I replied, "when I'm spanked, I sometimes 'see stars.' Some of my partners say the same thing when I spank them. One thing all of us feel when being spanked is warmth. Sometimes it feels too hot."

"We've done measurements on that." George responded. "There is a physiological explanation for it as blood tends to rush to the irritated area to heal the wound. There is also some minimal energy transfer as the spanking implement makes contact with the skin. However, there is no way that this blood could exceed normal body temperature, and the energy generated in a typical spanking in an hour would almost be enough to raise a liter of water one degree Celsius, so your assessment of 'too hot' does not make sense."

"Well, I said it feels like it is too hot. There may be more than just physiology at work here."

Again there was a waving of the head appendage.

"We noticed that too. According to your literature, there is a thing called 'the lecture' that very often goes along with a spanking. We can understand its purpose with a recalcitrant child, but it's role in spanking among adults remains obscure."

I laughed, "I guess you have to be there."

"Hooom," George boomed, "Would it be considered too 'kinky' if we conducted an experiment with you as a spanker, and me as a spankee?"

"How are we going to do that, George? You just told me you guys don't have tushes. Besides, I don't 'do' other men."

"Homophobic?" George asked.

"Just not my style," I responded.

"I'll have to tell my associates about this. Apparently there is a lot of cross interests working on several levels in these mating rituals. Anyway, I am hardly 'other men.' As I mentioned before, sex among us doesn't really exist. If you insist on putting a gender on me, then since I am capable of producing offspring from my body, I could be considered female."

"Well, don't expect to be in a centerfold spread of Playboy," I chuckled.

George didn't bat an eye … assuming George had eyes. Nonetheless, I decided to make an attempt to think of George as "Georgie Girl."

After some moments hesitation, George responded with, "We have a whole army of analysis working on this thing you call humor. I make the assumption that your last statement was intended to be humorous. I noticed the difference between the purpose of Playboy magazine which is to portray what is considered by your experts to be physically attractive females, and my physical appearance which can be considered either comical or ugly. I realize now that I was not intended to take your comments as serious advice."

George took a breath and went on, "We have something similar in our culture, but I don't think we would 'get' each other's 'jokes" - as I believe you call them."

"It's a shame," I replied, "Laughter is a great way to release emotions. Just like crying is."

"Don't mistake me," George answered, "We can laugh …" She let out a cackling sound.

"Don't bother, George, it doesn't do anything for you."

"I am glad you bring out the point of laughing and crying. You say that both are good for the emotions. Spanking induces crying sometimes. Can we say that spanking is some sort of therapy?"

"I've never thought of it that way." I responded. "I could get my PHD - Please Hit Derriere - in Spankology."

George let out with a noise that sounded like a low rumbling fart. The tone told me it was the equivalent of a groan.

"Please," she exclaimed, "refrain from any further attempts at humor. It only gets in the way of the investigation."

"I can't help it," I explained. "It's just part of who I am."

"Let's do get back to the topic at hand. Spanking and the release of emotion, and the whole matter of 'lecturing' while spanking."

I guess it was time for me to get serious. "The whole thing about spanking is very complex. I don't know why it is, but women seem to like to get spanked more than men. Or perhaps they like to get spanked for different reasons."

"Some women, in our culture, tend to hang onto a fantasy of being 'daddy's little girl.' It was a time in their lives when they were innocent, and protected, and loved unconditionally by their fathers. Also it was a time when 'daddy' traditionally meted out corporal punishment when it was needed."

"Spanking is one way that parents give attention to their children. It may be negative attention, but it is attention. To a child that gets no attention at all, it may be considered a positive thing. To a child this is brought up in a loving and secure environment, it may be considered just a part of that environment. I really don't know, George, I'm an engineer, not a psychiatrist."

George cackled.

"Did I say something funny?" I asked.

"I'm an engineer, not a psychiatrist," George responded, "Don't you get it?"

"I'm afraid not."

George did a strikingly accurate imitation of DeForest Kelly's voice, "Goddamit, Jim, I'm a doctor not a …"

It was my turn to groan. "You're right, we're not going to get each other's jokes."

I cleared my throat, "Anyway, I think people are conditioned to think of spanking as attention. It's attention that they get for doing something wrong. Doing something wrong is something to be ashamed of. Also spanking is associated with childhood. Being treated like a child, being 'demoted' out of adulthood is also a very shameful experience. Shame is a very powerful emotion."

"People like to release their emotions. It makes them feel good. People laugh, yell, scream, throw objects, and do all kinds of things just to get out their emotions. Some people take a more subtle route: they work out, dance, write or paint. But emotions have to come out or they will burn you up."

George waved that appendage again and said, "Interesting. Tell me more." He put two tentacles together in a tent-like pose. I could almost picture him with a mustache and goatee as a psychiatrist sitting in a chair across from his patient. The only thing missing was the notebook.

"Well, I think that explains it. The lecture is an important part of the spanking. It builds up the shameful emotion. She is a bad girl. She did a silly thing. She disobeyed her daddy's orders. She deserves to be spanked … and so on."

"Spanking her gives her a release. It allows her to 'make up" for being a bad girl. She has a way to let her emotions out, and this allows her to accept my emotions in return. I offer her love and acceptance. I accept her after I spank her. There is a kind of reconciliation between us. This sets up another whole set of emotions in her which she can release through lovemaking."

After a moment of silence, I reflected, "Spanking intensifies the lovemaking experience."

George waved her head appendage negatively.

"I'm afraid I'll never completely understand this concept," she sighed.

"That's because you can't experience it." I added.

George contemplated this for a while. "I was wondering if I could ask you a favor," George asked. "I can make myself appear in any form I choose to you. Should I appear to you as a young woman, for example, would you spank me on what I will make appear to you as a very 'spankable tushie' to use your terminology?"

"Well …" As I hesitated, "George" transformed itself into a much more pleasant vision: a young woman, early 30's, I'd judge. Then I recognized her. I saw her earlier in the day. She wasn't what you would call a centerfold model, but she was pleasant looking with a face that was engaging rather than pretty. She wasn't voluptuous by any means, but what she had seemed to look just right on her body. Her rear end was just slightly plump … the way I like them.

The problem was that she was totally naked.

She smiled at me, "Hi, I couldn't help noticing that you were looking at me." George's voice suddenly became feminine. I never spoke to this woman, but this is exactly how I imagined how her voice would sound.

"Err, George," I hemmed, "You have no clothes on."

"We don't use clothes where I come from unless we have to. The environment here is benign enough. Besides, I thought it would be quicker this way."

"Well, it would be quicker, but part of the fun is pulling up a girl's skirt and pulling down her panties."

The girl looked back at me, and for whatever studies they did on us, was able to portray a genuine confused look."

I went on to explain, "Being naked is embarrassing enough. Getting naked is more embarrassing. It is not logical, but it is often true."

George (Georgette? - yes, she was most definitely feminine enough to be called "Georgette") giggled. "Why Mr. Spock, you intrigue me. I find that concept, 'fascinating.'"

Apparently these creatures must have watched way too many Star Trek reruns on their way in from wherever it is they came. However what "fascinated" me was the way Georgette was flirting with me. There was a slight cock of her head that denoted coyness, but a twinkle in her eye that said, "imp."

"Oh well, I guess we'll have to skip the preliminaries then and get onto the spanking. The problem is, we don't have a scenario."

"A scenario?" she said standing before me, single finger pushing down her lower lip.

"Yes, a 'causis belli' - a reason to be spanked. Just what did you do, you naughty girl, and where are your clothes?" I suggested.

"Oh," she said, lighting up her eyes with sudden comprehension. "I don't know what it is about me. I just have this silly habit of wanting to show my body to men. Whenever I see a good-looking guy, I just have to take my clothes off for him. I know I'm such a dirty girl, but I just can't help myself."

I stoked my goatee pensively as I surveyed that nice body. "That's a very bad habit you have young lady." (Why do all women become 'young ladies' when they are being lectured?). "I'll have to take matters in my own hands to teach you how to behave yourself."

Georgette wiggled, "Ohh, yes, I am a bad girl. Do you think you can teach me how to behave?"

Taking her by the wrist, I pulled her over my lap. I noticed that the skin was silky and not at all like what I had grasped before. She followed my lead and offered no resistance. I felt compelled to point this out. "Very good, you're catching on fast. Sometimes as a variation, though you might want to put up some token resistance. Let the man win and get you over his lap, but you might experience a certain thrill by being overpowered."

"Mmmm," she let out with cat-like contentness. "You're lap is so comfortable."

"Well, it won't be for long!" I said, landing my first slap on her luscious left cheek. I was taken back a little as I felt like I was hitting skin stretched over concrete. "Stop clenching, I told her." My next spank met flesh with some resilience.

I explained things to her, "This is just a warm-up. It's too bad I don't have my paddle or my flogger with me."

"Oh," she exclaimed, "We've anticipated that. In that box next to you is probably any kind of 'toy' - I think you call them - you could want."

I opened the box to find an assortment of paddles, floggers, straps and canes. I picked out a nice, lightweight paddle with a lot of surface area. "Yes, this will do nicely," I thought to myself.

WHHHAP. The swish of the paddle sounded so nice in my ears.

The reaction from Georgette was different. "Oooh, do that again. This time at a higher pitch."

"Wha-at?" I had to ask.

"I don't know how to describe it. When you were hitting me with your hand, it 'felt' like what beating on a drum would 'sound' like. The paddle 'feels' like a cymbal."

I searched around the box for other implements and experimented on her rear end with just about everything. The cane 'felt' like a piccolo to her, the sand-filled rubber hose was like a blast from a tuba.

It seemed that if I knew what I was doing, or if she could write down what she felt in terms of musical notes; that we could compose a spanking symphony. The 'stingers' were high pitched instruments, and the 'thudders' provide bass. Loudness, naturally, was a function of how hard I hit. Where I hit produced different harmonics, so a switch to the bottom of the buttocks was more like a piano at high-C while the same switch aimed higher sounded more like a violin.

I am sure that to Georgette, it felt like cacophony. I have no musical talent, and I think that even the most experienced musician would need some time to learn this new instrument.

Somewhere along the way, Georgette started wiggling. "Good," I thought, "She must have learned somewhere that wiggling and leg kicking are expected behavior for a spanked girl." I had quick flashes of what Georgette looked like while she was George, but they were on the twilight edge of my consciousness.

I was at her spanking for at least a half hour, trying the various implements, and asking her to describe how she heard them. I looked down at Georgette's ass. It was still lilly-white. "George … ette, you're going to have to learn how to show some marks. A guy likes to look at his 'handy work' sometimes."

"Maybe next time," she cooed.

Georgette got up. "Thank you for that experience. I know I couldn't react like a real woman, but you made the whole subject sound so fascinating, I just had to try it. You even triggered off the reflex that sometimes accompanies the onset of pregnancy in us. At least that's what it felt like, only without the … well, I can't explain it, but take my word for it, it was a pleasurable experience. I had a tough time keeping up with your illusion."

"Glad to be of service," I responded.

Georgette bowed her head a little and frowned, "I thank you for an experience I will never forget. I know why your women like this activity. Now, I think it's best if you leave now. I don't think you want to be around when I change back."

She was right. I grabbed my jacket and opened the door. Looking back through the closing door, I could see Georgette standing there, back to me with pink cheeks.