Showing posts with label On the Scene. Show all posts
Showing posts with label On the Scene. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Spanking Collection - Released!

Dear Readers!!

I am very happy and proud to be one of many today announcing the launch of a new book, The Spanking Collection, edited and produced by the lovely Abel and Haron of The Spanking Writers.

All proceeds go straight to charity! (Cancer research, UK)

Do you remember the Arlington Girls Reformatory? You can read all about it in the full-length fictional short story that I was thrilled to write for this collection. Not only that, but you can read the wonderful stories of no less than TWENTY unique and intriguing authors, all of whom wrote exclusively for this book -- these stories will not be available anywhere else!


CLICK HERE to find out where to buy the book, and for a full list of authors and their short-story titles -- it's out in both paperback and eReader versions, and remember, you are supporting a very good cause, and some very fantastic writers!

XOXO Happy Spanks, and Happy Reading!!!

Monday, August 8, 2011

Consensual Spanking Day!

Happy World Consensual Spanking Day!


Today, August 8th, according to many both deliciously dubious and highly credible sources, has been designated Consensual Spanking Day, by whichever powers that may be...

Despite the gaping lack of any CNN or ABC (or FOX or NPR or Al Jazeera or BBC, if we are being multi-partial and inter-national) news declaring the holiday, I'm sure we all need very little prompting to put on a great celebration! :D

What is it that you like most about spanking?

How has consensual spanking contributed to your life, whether through ideas or actions or words or lifestyles or anything that comes first to mind?

I knew spanking was a part of me from the very beginning. Now I can truly say that it always will be, and the fact that I am able to share that with my partner in a consensual spanking relationship is more than I ever could have imagined.

Thank you, Mr A, for helping to make my dreams come true! :D

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Chapter Three - Salvaged!!

Miracle of miracles! Thanks to numerous very diligent and crafty readers, the Third Chapter of my Spanking Weekend Saga has been restored to life!

Thank you so much to all of those who contacted me with full replications of the post that I thought had been lost forever! You are all amazingly clever and kind! I am still dancing with glee at the fortune of having such a dedicated readership! :D:D

And so, without any further ado, restored to you by your fellow readers, here below is a full replication of the long-lost-but-found-again Chapter Three of the Spanking Weekend!

Chapter Three - All for One, and One for All!


Dear readers! How rude of me to go and leave you hanging like that -- waiting patiently for the next installment of my weekend adventure!


Remember that thing I mentioned some while back about finals? And grad school? Welcome to that TIME. :) My books and papers have now taken over my apartment and are slowly eating me alive!!

Thankfully, I have found a single shining moment to share and I will do nothing less -- we do happily have at least a few more chapters of spanking weekend fun to go!


If you have been following along (hard to do with these long intervals, I know!), you will know that, some weekends ago now, I had the pleasure of attending a spanking weekend event -- my first multi-day spanking experience, in a structured, spanko-centered environment. :D:D

While there, rest assured, plenty of mischief found itself managed. Or should I say, plenty of mischievous spankees found themselves managed...!


One such lucky group, as many of you may have read about in my last post, found itself managed on multiple occasions!

After our escapade in the woodshed, the five of us who had conspired together (some of us much more last-minute than others!) to try to earn a group spanking found ourselves in another sticky situation, this time involving not one, but
two Tops.

The two Tops, no less -- the two organizers of the event -- the top of the very top!

How had we gotten ourse
lves into this mess?!?


Our numbers had swelled by the time they got to us -- our illustrious ranks joined by a well-deserving, mischief-making young man in attendance at the weekend.


It was thanks to him -- and the therefore co-ed nature of our punishment -- that we were all allowed the grace and fortune of retaining the protection of our pants staying up or skirts staying down throughout! (A great big thank you to him for that!!! :D)

We were led, in a line, to the scene of our reckoning: a pool table conveniently big enough for six people to bend over, three on each side. Two huge, bright, imposing lights hung over the center of the table, spotlighting our plight, throwing our faces into clear distinction as we leaned in close to one-another. I wondered, in that moment, if I looked as nervous as some of my compatriots -- their eyes wide and lips tense.

Our punishers circled around us like vultures, eying their catch, straps readily in hand.


The first "Ow!"s reached my ears before any physical confirmation of their source. I saw my compatriot to my immediate left jump, heard her hiss, felt the swish of air from the strap landing on her backside a second time -- not even a foot from me! I knew I was next, then -- when my companion quieted and I felt a steadying hand on my lower back.

Swish--CRACK!


This was my first experience of a strap in the hands of either of these two upstanding Tops -- both were equally worthy of the chorus they produced in us as they rounded the table!


Again and again, a swish and a crack, swish, crack!, the immediate OWs and hisses, one of us would jump and then another at the other end of the table would echo -- our faces flinging up in the light -- marking each punisher's place in the

room at that moment.


I have never been punished with so many others all at once -- the experience of being bent over a pool table as a group of six, and successively strapped by two diligent spankers, was, indeed, truly unique and one that I will remember dearly far into the future.


Did we get more than we'd bargained for? Absolutely! Was it worth every last minute and better than we could have imagined? Most certainly and undeniably so, thanks to everyone involved :D


Thank you all for including me!! :D


Thursday, April 21, 2011

Chapter One - Spanking Weekend

This past weekend, I was one of many elated attendees at a spanking event in the mountains -- in a lovely resort staffed by equally lovely spank-friendly people, and well-equipped with many a spanko's needs...



Including a jacuzzi...

(perfect place for making mischief and getting away with it, right?? :D)







A woodshed...


(stocked with bales of hay and even a door lock with a five-letter combination... can you guess what it was??? :D)









A classroom...

(hall passes and class bell included!)









An upstairs office...

(complete with an authoritative desk, an armless chair, and a school desk)




And, of course, plenty of private rooms and play spaces for more behind-the-scenes fun :D

I have an adventure to share with you, dear readers, from each and every one of these places, and more! My next few blog entries will be chronicling some of the most memorable events from my weekend in the mountains with a whole troupe of spanko friends, so stay tuned!

For now, let me say that it was truly a once-in-a-life-time experience, made possible by the SCONY group which I have had the pleasure of coming to know better and better in recent months. :D

Coming up next: Chapter Two - A Trip (or Two) to the Woodshed!

----
School girl art by Kamitora

Thursday, March 17, 2011

St. Patty's Spanking Party

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

What better way to celebrate than a St. Patty's-themed spanking party!?



Alright, perhaps March weather necessitates a bit more shelter than the lovely beach scene depicted above (from Februs) -- but don't you just love the look on that girl's face? :D

This past weekend I attended my second SCONY party! You can read, here, about my first encounter with the Spanking Club of New York -- it was truly a pleasure to return! =)

Equipped as I was with an adequate supply of green-tinted attire (not wearing green to a St. Patty's spanking party is like walking right into a spanking!), I still could not manage to get away with anything less than five spankings that night, at the hands of five separate spankers!


One of these fine gentlemen, you'll remember, had detailed to me a 500-word essay only weeks before -- an assignment which I completed in record time and even then, at 3-times the word requirement! (Or so I thought!) If you are curious as to this essay's contents and origins, you can read it here. :D

I had thought, upon submission of my essay, that, if anything, he may be slightly peeved at having to read so many words... Not the case, ladies and gentleman. In fact, allow me to quote for you from his particularly foreboding email response:

"In all, the essay was delightful and I thank you for your clearly detailed efforts that resulted in such a completely and utterly enjoyable piece of reading material.

However, and all that said,... In your essay, only 217 words addressed the assigned issue.

Alas, for you, this well short of the prescribed 500.

We will 'talk'."

What?? You can imagine, dear readers, my utter surprise! I should have known something like this would happen!!

And "talk" we did -- He allowed me plenty of time to acclimate (both mentally AND physically :D...) to the party atmosphere, and then, near the close of the evening, finally approached.



"We have something to discuss."

*gulp*



As I put down my water, he took the lead and steered me to the nearest open cubicle -- made up of tarp and plastic frames, these make-shift privacy cubes lined the walls of the room, each equipped with two chairs inside.

He had me sit first, and stood over me, arms folded, reminding me why this "discussion" was necessary. With particulars out of the way, he ordered me up, sat down himself, and got right down to business.

"Why are your pants still up?"

I must have turned five-thousand shades of red :)

A year ago, dear readers, I would have been positively paralyzed -- I still remember the first time someone (a lovely gentleman whom I met across the water, no less) told me to take my pants down myself... I got as far as putting my fingers on the button, but then he had to get up and do the rest for me, all the while sparing no words about what happens to naughty girls who don't follow directions...

This time, with a little more practice in me, I was able to manage it with only a small hesitation, and almost immediately found myself over his lap, jeans around my knees.

My panties came down, and he started spanking -- by then I was already sufficiently "warmed up," from several other similar encounters through the night, so it pretty much started hurting right from the very beginning!

"How many words was your essay supposed to be?"

I am already squirming. "500, Sir..." It is still so hard to make words come out of my mouth when I am bottom-up, bare, over someone's lap...!

He immediately stops and leans over me, his voice direct and commanding, "Speak up so I can hear you."

"500!" The spanking continues, harder.

"And how many were actually on topic?"

"217, Sir!"

His hand doesn't stop as he goes on to tell me that, while I write very well and he enjoyed reading, I would do better in future to mind his instructions more carefully...


"So, we already know you are good with words. But how are you with numbers?"

Oh nooo!! Math! Spanking and math do not mix!!

"How many words short were you?"

Luckily, dear readers, I had pre-calculated this sum, in the off-chance that he should happen to ask at this very moment, when the last thing my mind is capable of doing is any kind of mathematical acrobatics -- It still took me a moment to recall, however, with my bottom on fire, and knowing full well that a wrong answer would be even further detrimental to my current predicament...

"Two hundred.... eighty-three, Sir?"

"Correct. Just be glad I'm not giving you 283 whacks."

Eeeep! Yes -- yes Sir, I am very, very glad!! Thank you! I promise, next time, you will find the minimum word requirement, and beyond -- even if it takes me a whole novel!

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Learning to Dance in the Rain

"It took so long just to feel alright,
Remember how to put, back the light, in my eyes...
But I have grown too strong,
To ever fall back in your arms...
Who do you think you are?
Running 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
Tearing love apart...
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul.
So don't come back for me,
Don't come back at all..."

~Christina Perri, from "Jar of Hearts"

I'm afraid this will be a rather different kind of post, dear readers.


It will uplifting and empowering, because it is about learning enough truth about a damaging past experience to be able to move on, completely and fully, once and for all. But it will also be painful, challenging, and rife with conflicting emotions -- as any journey through the dark places of one's life will be, until finally emerging in the bright light of knowledge and forgiveness at the other end.


I am no longer angry -- neither with myself, for falling so blindly into his trap, nor with him, for deliberately setting it and, knowingly, watching me fall.

I am no longer an empty shell, stripped of my right to an identity of my own -- I have had years to fill up again, with laughter, love, and purpose. With the happiness and strength of friends, family, and lovers... With my own light and exceedingly fulfilling life.


I am no longer confused or disillusioned -- I know now, more than ever, what truth lurked behind his mask, what may have driven him to do what he did, what made me an ideal target.

I accept, wholeheartedly, that I do not need to know why -- it does not matter -- I no longer have to try to rationalize what he did to me, nor how I let it happen. What matters is that I learn, and that I let go.


I am no longer frightened -- I know now, from years of highly positive experiences, that I can be safe and happy in the arms of a dominating man who will not overstep his boundaries in wielding his power over me, who will always respect me as a fellow, equal human being, even as we venture deep into the recesses of domination and submission.


I am no longer weak -- I can see now, the warning signs. I can trust my own finer-tuned instincts and judgments with confidence. I am strong enough, now, to let go -- to trust, to open up, to allow myself the vulnerability that part of me so dearly craves, knowing that I have the tools now to pick myself up and still be me, should I happen to fall again. Knowing that I am my own person, completely and without question, independent of my experiences, positive or negative.


I am no longer trapped -- I am free. My strings are cut, the dark cloud of doubt and derision has flown. I may not be flying high among the stars all the time, but the horizon stretches before me and I am free to create my own journey, no longer slave to the past, no longer slave to him, no longer slave to the guilt and shame I once owned, in a memory.


"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."

Demon --

I am
no longer
yours.


Not in body, not in mind, not in spirit.


I am letting you go -- your grip over me no longer holds, because I have forgiven you, and I have moved on.

"I am the Master of my Fate,
I am the Captain of my Soul."*


I am happy, I am loved, I am strong, I am free.

Thank you, for all you have taught me, and peace be with you, always.


----
*From "Invictus," by William Ernest Henley.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Assigned an Essay

Fair warning sent out to all potential Tops/Doms/Dommes/Spankers:

If you, for whatever surely valid reason, decide to take it upon yourself to assign to Miss Rayne Bailey (Yours Truly) a task, big or small, that has anything at all to do with writing, be prepared for a novel! Break out your bifocals! Get your reading lamps! Fix your hot mug of tea, kick back, and settle in for an evening of literary adventure!

Dear readers, the above notice is here-to-for displayed to any and all future writing-assigners, as a result of one such writing assignment, recently detailed to me, by a gentleman I met at the spanking party described in my last post.

During an online group chat, with other party attendees, this fine gentlemen decided to make a comment indicating the interchangeability of two slang terms, and I, rather presumptuously and before I could stop myself, made the mistake of offering to provide him with the etymology of the two terms, so as to illustrate their uniqueness from each other. To my great surprise, he took the bait, and assigned me an essay, minimum 500 words, to be in his inbox by the end of the week!

In my eagerness to please, and my voracity for linguistic studies, (and spurred into creative fecundity by the astute suggestion of another gentleman to add in spanking references wherever possible), I ended up completely overshooting the word requirement (not on purpose!) and concocting, if I do say so myself, quite a titillating bit of literature.

Reproduced for you here below, dear readers, is the very essay, detailing the etymological history, as I found it, of the two slang terms "gangsta" and "ghetto," written for a truly upstanding, dignified, and inexorably kinky gentleman.

Rayne Bailey

Etymology Essay: Ghetto and Gangsta


As per the Urban Dictionary (1), the slang term “gangsta” refers to: “a member of the inner-city underclass, known primarily for being antisocial and uneducated. Also known for ready access to illegal drugs and weapons, and staggeringly poor marksmanship.” One would hope, for many a young lady’s sake, that such “staggeringly poor marksmanship” would not extend to less illegal, more intimate activities for which accurate marksmanship is also a necessary skill… Another definition from the same source claims that a “gangsta” is: “One who willfully promotes and participates in self-serving culture in an effort to project a particular image of 'toughness' or to make oneself intimidating. Willingness to blatantly and horrifically misuse the English language is a necessity.” In no way is the writer reminded, at all, of any toppish gentlemen recently to have appeared within her experience—not, at, all, in any way, shape, or form.

For a slightly more run-of-the-mill definition of the term, one can turn to the more mainstream Webster’s online dictionary (2), which identifies it as simply a shortened version of the word “gangster.” As the title “gangster,” however, has also historically been applied to esteemed members of the Russian and Italian mafia (and also the Japanese, although translated into a different language and therefore less relevant to this discussion), it must be stated that “gangster” and “gangsta” hold two very different cultural histories. Indeed, “mobsters” or “gangsters,” especially those of pop-culture, have tended to be quite well-dressed, well-mannered, and well-versed individuals (the term “well” here being relative)—albeit prone to certain behaviors which could be seen by mainstream society as rather violent. (Here the writer is attempting to refrain from drawing a connection between a “gangster” and the reader himself, who would seem to exhibit many of the aforementioned characteristics of said “gangsters,” including a commendable taste in attire and a certain propensity for rather patriarchal, dominating attitudes toward his female counterparts, not to mention a slightly skewed perception of socially appropriate levels of “violence,” especially in matters relating to and of domestic discipline.)


Now, due to the fact that most documented materials in the world are in fact subject to the wills and wonts of those currently in possession of societal power at the time of their creation (hence the disproportionately bloated records of many a young lady’s supposed “misdeeds” at the hands of her punisher, who holds not only the implement of her discipline but also the pen making official note of her behavior), the above definitions of the underground term “gangsta” must be taken with a grain of salt. They are, in fact, definitions from the point of view of “outsiders” to the particular culture from whence the term itself came into existence. A closer look, then, at the true origins and meanings behind the term, as it is employed by those who created it, would be in order, which would require first-hand interviews with “insiders,” or, “gangstas” themselves. As the writer’s primary concern is for her own physical safety (hence the writing and turning in of this essay with the utmost attention to detail and deadline!), this area of study will be proposed here as a possibility for further research to be done by other scholars in the field who may be more willing to engage in such grassroots inquisition.

As for our second term of concern, “ghetto,” a much more easily accessible body of etymological history is available for study. (Here the writer hopes that the reader does truly appreciate the depths of research which had to be surmounted in order to accurately complete this essay.) The term had its origination during the bygone years of 1605-1615 (when many a disciplinarian still openly spanked his or her partner without fear of social ostracization (3)), in reference to the name of a Venetian island where nation-less Italian Jews were forced to reside, and derived from the Italian verb ghettare, or “to throw.” It is presumed that this act of “throwing” in fact alluded to the throwing of the Jews out of Italy, and not, indeed, to the throwing of a naughty young lady over a dignified Italian gentleman’s lap, be she Jewish or Gentile. (Here the writer wishes to inform the reader that she is in fact Jewish, and therefore not averse to making light of such situations.)

With these origins, one can easily see how the term then came to be applied throughout the centuries to other cramped and deplorable urban areas where dislocated peoples, usually Jews though not always, were forced to live in close quarters, with limited economic opportunities, aka: “an impoverished, neglected, or otherwise disadvantaged residential area of a city, usually troubled by a disproportionately large amount of crime." (4) Considering the close relation, so far, between the two terms “gangsta” (subject and/or object of crime, product of “inner-city” life) and “ghetto” (locus operandi of crime, synonym of “inner-city”), one can easily see how the reader may have become confused and come to view the two separate concepts as interchangeable. The pointing out of this syntactical blunder is in no way meant to reflect upon the intellectual strength of the reader, as such a mistake is quite understandable, and should therefore not be taken as a slight of any shape or form upon the reader from the writer, please and thank you, Sir.

One further area of study begs our attention—no, not that kind of begging, nor that kind of attention, Sir—that of the colloquial use of both terms as adjectives, rather than merely as nouns (such as “spankable,” rather than “spankee”). When one refers to a person or an object or a situation or really any feasible subject of conversation as “gangsta” or “ghetto,” as in: “that shirt is so gangsta, Mr. R*,” or “that carpet beater is so ghetto, Mr. L*,” what does one actually mean? (Here the writer wishes to reiterate that the above examples were merely that: examples, and in no way meant to reflect the true thoughts, feelings, opinions, and/or views of the writer.)

Again, Urban Dictionary comes to our rescue: according to this valuable resource, when someone refers to something as “gangsta,” they are in fact meaning something along the lines of “stupid,” “fake,” or even “moronic,” and therefore in fact would probably never be referring to the reader’s shirt, unless of course they were looking for a “helluva lotta trubble.”

Conversely, though related, the term “ghetto,” when employed as an adjective, is defined as, “jury-rigged, improvised, or home-made (usually with extremely cheap or sub-standard components), yet still deserving of an odd sense of respect from ghetto dwellers and non-ghetto dwellers alike.” (Thus, for example, the “odd sense of respect” for Mr. L’s aforementioned implement of choice, by both givers and receivers alike.) It stands to reason that anything made in a “ghetto”—a place of little resources and therefore ubiquitous resourcefulness—would by necessity be “ghetto”: “improvised” or “home-made.” Rather like some of the lovely homemade spanking implements that the writer has had the pleasure of seeing and experiencing (granted, these generally have in fact been “jury-rigged” with copious amounts of masterful skill and craftsmanship).

Our friend UD (5) also provides us with some illuminating example sentences of the adjective “ghetto” in common use, such as, “Why you always be talkin' ghetto? Get yo'self a propa' e-ju-ma-kay-shun, kid!” (Such “propa’ e-ju-ma-kay-shun” of course referring to one involving the uninhibited use of the cane, tawse, and/or paddle for maintaining proper classroom order.) And, “A TV Guide duct-taped to a 4 foot stick?! That's one hella ghetto 'mote control!” Notice, the 4-foot stick is here referred to as a “hella ghetto ‘mote control,” not a “hella ghetto ‘mplement ferspanking,” such as a carpet beater, or a FES.**


After some in-depth research and reporting, it is the writer’s hope that it has now become clearer to the reader that the two slang labels of “ghetto” and “gangsta,” even when used loosely as colloquial terms of description, are in fact entirely separate and autonomous entities, with separate, albeit related, etymological histories and usages. The writer thanks the reader very much for his time, energy, and patience, and begs—yes, that kind of begging, Sir—his forgiveness should any part of this essay have caused any undue and/or unintended offense and/or related unpleasantness (and also humbly requests a very reasonable exemption from chastisement in response to any form of typo or other grammatical inaccuracy, as a simple red pen would rectify the matter). The writer wishes to assure the reader of her unfailingly good intentions, and her ever-present wishes merely to please, rather than to incite—also two very separate modi operandi for accomplishing, hopefully, similar ends (6)… =)



(1) http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=gangsta -- a truly enlightening source for English colloquialisms.

(2) http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/gangsta -- another useful literary reference, for most commonly-used terms, though not all (indeed, the writer was surprised to find an entry for “gangsta” here at all…)

(3) A term here made-up by the writer, due to its dire need for, and unfortunate current lack of, legitimate existence as a viable word in the English language. Much like the term “spanko.”

(4) Also as per the ever-faithful online Urban Dictionary.

(5) UD – Urban Dictionary, for those in need of acronym translation.

(6) A spanking, for those in need of overly subtle girl-talk translation.


---

And that, ladies and gentleman, was my 500-word minimum etymology essay! *Mr. R - the reader/assigner of the essay, and *Mr. L (incidentally the same gentleman who made the spanking-references suggestion :D) have both generously consented to be mentioned here in conjunction with the essay.

Do hope you have enjoyed reading! It is rare that such literary opportunities come my way -- and it has been a pleasure to share this one with all of you :D

**FES here refers to an implement of choice for the reader himself -- a particularly intimidating leather strap which he tends to save, so I am told, for special occasions...

Monday, February 21, 2011

Shall We...? :D

One ballroom, complete with grand piano, tables, chairs, and a smorgasbord of delicious potluck-ed sustenance...



Six hand-constructed tarp privacy cubicles, lining the walls, each equipped with at least two armless chairs...





40-some-odd Spankos from all manner of persuasions milling about to the tune of -- no, guess again, that's not applause.

It's a little sparser, a little more rhythmic, and accompanied by the occasional -- what was that? A muted squeal? A stamping foot?

Yes, my dear friends, it's a spanking party!



While the more social (or just the more peckish) congregate in the center of the room to chat and snack, the more industrious of the evening are either hauling or being hauled off to a "private" cubicle to either administer or reluctantly? eagerly? receive a spanking. Their privacy only extends to the visual realm, however -- the tarp does very little to conceal the tell-tale sounds of what is really happening behind those curtains... Thus the music kept at mid-volume throughout the room, to help deter outside ears from becoming too curious...!

This particular party is a monthly occurrence, and as such, draws some regulars in along with the new comers like myself. At first I'm not sure how it will go... I am eager to play, yet hesitant to initiate, unsure of how to handle invites, shy in conversation...

One of the kind souls with whom I'd made acquaintance before the party (a highly recommended pre-party course of action, by the way, to meet with one or a few party-goers in a public space beforehand) described it to me as a dance -- "It's your dance card, you fill it how you see fit."

And what a dance it was!


Spot a kind face, a strong hand, a smart look... Make eye contact... Smile.

Slowly approach, as he mirrors you... Reach out... Shake hands -- right now, you're equals. Exchange your names, scene or otherwise... Your greetings, polite, well-mannered.

Wonder if he has caught the glimmer in your eye. Dance around the subject as much as you like... by now, you both know where you're headed.

He offers his hand, with a grin, and an inviting, "Shall we?"

And when you place your hand in his, you give him permission to lead.

But he is not leading you to the dance floor. No, he is leading you away from the rest of the room, into a small space, where a chair awaits him, and his lap awaits you.

He leads and you follow, giving way to the steps of the dance, a rhythm you both know by heart, body, and mind.


"I could have danced all night."

You perform this dance again and again, with variations, different partners, but always the same tune. Time flies -- before you know it, the midnight chime has struck, and you must return to your carriage, back to every-day life, memories of the night still alight in your eyes.

Now that, dear readers, is a spanking good time!

I needn't have worried. :) As one of several new spankees in a sea of spanking fun, I could hardly stay out of the cubicles for longer than to steal a quick glass of water!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I ended up over a different gentleman's knee...
4 times that evening.

Do you remember the last time you were spanked 4 times in one night?? :D I do! And by the end of the evening I was sure I would be remembering it for at least a few weeks! : )


Chair Art by Lidia Shaddow
Cocktail Party Art by Eric (1944)

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Do you wear Pants, or a Skirt?

You've connected through some form of internet, be it a blog, spanko-site, forum, or chat...

You've exchanged communiques, be they short, long, detailed, or fanciful...

You're planning to meet, be it for drinks, lunch, ...or spanking...

So... What do you do when you meet a new potential play partner for the first time?

Do you brat,










...or do you play nice?







Do you dress up,









or dress
down?
















Do you offer... dr
inks?


Do you drum up enough courage to wear things that you know are
sure to provoke?




















Do
you spend forever
getting
ready?









Or do you run out the door in your best effort
not to be late?
























Do you w
ear pants...


















...or a skirt?












And what about underneath...?













Are you more forward,


or do you let him
make the
first move?








So many things to consider for the first spanking with a new partner in this fantastically unique little spanko-world of ours! :D


Wishing you great luck and enjoyment choosing your own way, and hoping to make many of these choices myself, too...!