Back on Track

Okay, so perhaps re-writing an entire post from scratch -- one that had already been slaved over and completed and published and even commented on before it was so unfairly lost -- was a little too daunting for me.

I can't stand it when that happens -- when a completed work is suddenly gone. When I complete something, it is because I have put literally hours of time and more than hours of energy and thought into it.

With my blog, each post is like a work of art to me -- so to be faced with having to completely redo one that had already been done was just not working.

Instead, I will switch gears, and share with you some of the major changes that have taken place in my life in the last three weeks, before launching back into the saga of the oh-so-long-ago-now spanking weekend. :D

Firstly, dear readers, after a conglomeration of serendipitous and otherwise highly fortunate events, I have found myself in the loving arms of a partner, every bit a spanko as I am, and we are in the process of taking our first steps in making a journey through life together.

It is an enormous change for me -- many enormous changes -- but it is what I have been looking for, waiting for... He is what I have been hoping to find in a partner -- in someone to share life with. What we have feels like the natural next step in both of our lives -- something to be mutually beneficial and grow as we grow together.


I hope to be writing many more entries detailing the adventures we have -- to start, I will detail for you our very first spanking game, as engineered by our own (mostly his) ingenuity right on the spot! :D

It was evening, some hours before we would both collapse into bed...

In order to be successful the following morning, I needed to find the clothes that I would wear and lay them out so that I wouldn't have to spend half an hour trying to find them when we would already be rushed.

Having already flopped down into bed, I was less than enthusiastic about having to get up and rummage around for clothes.

"What kind of motivation do you need?" By the glint in his eyes, we both knew exactly what was on his mind. To my look of intrigued surprise, he nearly grinned. "Two with the hairbrush for every minute that it takes you?"

My mind reeled -- hairbrushes are by far not my favorite implement...
"I get to keep my jeans on?"

"Yes. Time starts now."


I fling off the bed, and go scuffling around through my things to find what I need for the morning. He makes a good show of not watching, either me or the clock, and nonchalantly minding his own business as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening...

It only took me 2 minutes to find what I needed and lay it out. TWO minutes, dear readers. Who was motivated??

I was so proud of myself for having only earned four strokes with an implement I disliked, and over my jeans! Easy! I had thought it would have taken me closer to ten minutes! Flashes of 20 strokes with the hairbrush cross my mind as he bends me over the side of the bed, and an involuntary I cringe sweeps over my face.

Twenty would be particularly horrible with one of the hairbrushes we have, a heavier one that packs a hard thud -- the one that I am sure he must have gone to get... The one I'm sure he has in his hand behind his back as he approaches me from behind...

Seeing me craning around trying to catch a glimpse of which hairbrush he has chosen, his grin widens and he engages with my curiosity, "How many hairbrushes do we have?"

"Five..."

"Can you describe them?"

"The purple one, the pink one, the little wooden one with ridges in the back, the dark wooden one with a black rubber handle, and the heavier fake-wooden one..."

"Very good."

But he doesn't tell me or show me which he has picked! Little did I know, a dark twist had entered his mind when he realized it had only taken me two minutes, and he presents me with a choice:

"How about double or half?"

Before I can think too much about the math, he continues, easing his new idea into my good graces, "You guess which hairbrush I have, and if you guess wrong, that doubles your number of strokes to 8 -- but then when you guess right, it's back down to 4 again, and so on."

Hmmm...

Remind me, dear readers, never to play math games with this tricksy brainy gentleman. Very treacherous waters!

As I myself had been surprised at the small number of strokes I'd earned, I didn't see the harm in adding in a little risk -- so I agreed. Do you remember which hairbrush I was so sure he had picked?

That wasn't it! I guessed wrong! Suddenly my little four-strokes were, in fact, eight, and I was at a loss -- how could that not have been the one he picked? He knew it was going to be over my jeans, so he wouldn't have picked one of the lighter ones!

My next guess proved wrong, too. Not the purple one we both love -- 16 strokes!

Sixteen strokes! What just happened??

Suddenly I didn't want to play the game anymore, but he held me to my commitment and bid me keep guessing -- apparently the limit to my guesses was five, the number of hairbrushes it could possibly be.

My next guess proved wrong a THIRD time (not the pink one!), and now I was looking at a whopping 32 strokes with the hairbrush over my jeans, from what started as only 4! If I got it wrong again, my total would double to be 64, and my only saving grace would be the last and final guess, the only hairbrush left, that would take me back down to 32.

Here it was, the difference between knocking my total down from 32 to 16 by getting this guess right, or bouncing all the way up to 64 if I got it wrong. Thankfully, my intuitive sense kicked in (finally!) and I got it right -- the wooden one with the rubber handle.


Phew!

16 strokes, and not 32. Still, 16 is four times what I was going to get originally! Serves me right for playing such a dangerous game!

Here's to many more games to come, in our spanking future :D