My typical Sunday usually involves a host of errands, a Netflix marathon, and the occasional brunch. My plans for last Sunday? Paying to get my ass smacked by a complete stranger.
SCONY (Spanking Club Of New York) has dedicated its time and efforts to hosting private, old-fashioned spanking parties for the past two decades. Run by a sweet-looking older woman who goes by “Ms. Margaret,” the club meets once every month in Manhattan’s East Village, where private rooms are set up for some good, clean, ass-smacking fun.
There are some rules to abide by: No floggers or cat-o-nine-tails (which are whips), and safe words (yellow for slow down, red for stop) are listed as absolute must-follows. Refreshments are served and you’re encouraged to bring a snack to share, as well as your alcoholic beverage of choice.
Upon discovering that spanking parties are actually a thing that happen in my hood, I decided that I absolutely needed to see this for myself. I asked my friend Andrea to come along (actually, she volunteered) and we signed up for a Sunday funday of ass-spanking.
After knocking back a few drinks at a nearby bar for some liquid confidence, we walked over to the address listed on the site and pushed open the nondescript door. We were immediately met with the resounding sound of asses being smacked.
There was a front table, which had three name tag selections: blue if you were a bottom (meaning you wanted to get your booty slapped), red if you were a top (meaning you wanted to smack some money makers), and white if you wanted to do both.
We were greeted by Tom, the husband of Ms. Margaret, and were asked to fill out name tags (we both chose white). We paid the $25 entry fee (a steep $50 if you’re a man).
After signing in, a group of older men approached us but their efforts were quickly thwarted by Ms. Margaret, who swooped in like a mama cat protecting her newborn kittens, and pulled us aside to give us a much-needed newbie schpiel.
“The two of you are going to get hounded,” she told us, “so I’m going to pair you up with someone who’s been here a while.”
Enter Kristi, a wholesome-looking 30-something who likes to get her caboose whacked on the regular.
Kristi and Ms. Margaret made it clear to us that we didn’t have to do anything we didn’t feel comfortable with during our first time out, and told us that if anyone here did or said something to us that was off-putting, we should flag one of them down right away.
She also noted that the women here “run this sh*t,” meaning we do the picking and choosing of who we’re going to “play” with (that’s what they called it), not the other way around.
After the much needed pre-spank pep talk, we walked out behind Ms. Margaret and Kristi, through a sea of potential spankers that ranged from normal looking 20-somethings to men and women who probably have grandkids. Wide-eyed, we took a seat at a table that was placed in between two private, curtained off “play” areas.
Andrea and I made small talk with Kristi and were then joined a by young, clean-cut guy named Nick. Nick told us about the spanking convention he’d just gone to down in Texas, and how he’d been at it this for a year now, having found this place after he got out of a particularly bad breakup.
As the conversation continued, I saw an old man and woman emerge from one of the private rooms, laughing.
“Why thank you, sir,” the old woman said, fixing her hair from the ordeal. “This is the most fun I’ve had in quite some time.”
“My pleasure, my darling,” he told her, and then kissed her hand.
As I was watching this all go down, I realized that Andrea was making a beeline for the table that had a small selection of alcohol, which seemed like a smart idea given what we were both about to go through with.
We discussed how the heck we were supposed to go from making casual chit-chat with these strangers to actually getting our badonkadonks beat. We decided to take the middle school approach and tell Kristi to tell Nick that we’d both really like for him to spank us.
Nick graciously obliged, and the three of us headed into one of the private spanking rooms, which were bare except for two wooden chairs.
“I’m going to spank you first,” Nick told Andrea. “Then you, and then both of you at the same time.”
We agreed. Nick instructed Andrea to turn around and hold onto the back of one of the chairs. Then he took his hand and smacked her left butt cheek really, really hard.
Nick continued to go at it while Andrea and I tried not to laugh at how bizarre this whole thing was. Andrea had an easier time keeping the giggles to a minimum since she was mostly saying, “Ow!”
Finally, she told Nick that she’d had enough and it was my turn.
After watching Andrea go first, I thought I knew what I was in for. But when I went to stand over the chair the way that she had, Nick shook his head. He sat down on one of the chairs, then took me over his lap like a child, and proceeded to spank my tail-feather.
It hurt. Really, really bad.
I tried to be tough and take it for as long as I could. But around spank eight or nine, I had to ask him to stop.
Then, it was Nick’s turn.
Nick was technically a top but he gave in and let us spank him. We each gave a solid effort to leave our mark on his butt cheeks, but he didn’t give us any indication that we were doing any damage.
We did a grand finale that involved both of us playing his butt like a set of bongos, which I’m pretty sure he wasn’t into. But he was a great sport.
After achieving our goal of experiencing all that the spanking club had to offer, we made a very prompt exit, stopping to kiss Ms. Margaret goodbye, thanking her for the hospitality.
What struck me the most about this whole experience was how normal everyone in attendance was. The seasoned regulars we came in counter with are the same people you’d expect to run into at your office water cooler, or feeding quarters into the dryer at the laundromat, or in line behind you at the grocery store.
This has made me think differently about all of my acquaintances, about how little you really know about a person when it comes to what makes them tick, what they’re into, and what gets them off.
Andrea and I probably won’t be attending another spanking party any time soon. But if you’re interested in dipping your toe into the world of NYC spanking parties, I’d definitely recommend paying Ms. Margaret a visit.