Canes of Antiquity

During a most welcome and lovely visit to my home town, MrA and I stumbled upon a quaint little antique store, where, quite unexpectedly, we were able to acquire some particularly intriguing items.

These treasures of antiquity were my ever-incorrigible partner's discovery. At the time, we were shopping with family members, so a certain (aka HIGH) level of discretion was required. I was innocently gazing at some lovely brass figurines near the front of the store when he came up and whispered in my ear, "Go to the back, turn left, walk down to the end of the hall, and see what you find hanging from the B--- sign."

Immediately I knew it couldn't be anything good.

Hanging? My first dreaded guess as I picked my way through the shop was some sort of evil strap... Maybe even a tawse... Some form of heavy old cracked well-worn perfectly authentic leather just resting serenely upon the wall of this ancient place.

Alas, perhaps another shop, another day :D

When I arrived at the end of MrA's cryptic verbal treasure map, what I found instead was even worse: four long, slim, whippy, crook-handled canes, hooked over the side of an old sign. They had been deliberately plucked from a basket of all sorts of other long, whippy-looking evil things -- the only four crook-handled canes in the whole bundle.


I handled them carefully, discovering that, while appearing spindly and quite thin, they retained quite an astonishing amount of strength and suppleness.

Needless to say, before we left town, MrA and I took the opportunity to make one pit-stop and purchase four new additions to our growing collection of implements. After a good hardy bath in rubbing alcohol, each one will undergo a thorough treatment regimen with mineral oil, to re-hydrate what is obviously some very old wood (or rattan? we are not quite sure what they are made of...), and smooth out any rough edges.

Playing with them will require some careful measures, but really, I think MrA liked them more for show. They have a very appealing visual aesthetic :D I am sure they will get more looks than uses... :D:D But in any case, I will be sure to keep you informed as to their progress in our hands!

Spanking at your Fingertips

Ah the joys of technology!

As you may imagine, I am a hugely enthusiastic fan of any technological application that allows me to make pretty things of my own design -- a blog, for instance, full of content of my choosing and crafting :D

Thus, any time I happen to get my hands on my partner's iPad (shameless plug, highly attractive and addictive little slice of technology), the first application I always seem to go to is the "Drawing Pad," where all manner of pretty colors and shapes and ideas are literally
at my fingertip.

I have an entire blank canvas to fill with

whatever I want.

One evening, waiting for him to come to bed, I had a moment of inspiration and finger-drew this very rough, first-attempt sketch.

When I say rough, I mean rough -- this was pure thought in my mind translated straight to purple lines on the smooth glass surface of the iPad, no pre-planning, no pre-sketching, no erasing -- just creation.

Despite its crudeness (and I don't mean the content ;D), I decided to post it here for you to enjoy, and perhaps to inspire you to explore some of your own illustrative leanings.

Your canvas awaits!

(Even if you don't have an iPad, get out some finger paints, for goodness sake! Just be sure to wash the paint off your hands before spanking anybody... That could get a tad messy...) :):)

Spanked on a Park Bench

I have let nearly the entire month of October slip by without a single blog post! Shame on me!

It's not for lack of material -- living with a spanko, I have more material from the past few months than I have ever been able to amass in my entire life before moving in :D

What is it then? Perhaps it could do with the fact that I am not online nearly as much as I used to be... Besides spending more time furthering my career, I am also no longer constantly looking for ways to fill other needs... I have everything I could ever dream of asking for right here :D

It is truly a pleasure, whenever I can, to share this journey with people who enjoy hearing about it.

Thank you for being such a patient, gracious audience, as I find a new rhythm for living and posting about a spanking journey that has taken a very positive turn :D

~~~~

Walking around outside in the twilight hours with a Top can be a very dangerous thing. Especially if you yourself happen to be a Bottom or Spankee. And you happen to be walking around a rather deserted park. With benches. And plenty of tree cover.

Let me show you what happens:

Ladies and Gentlemen, I can assure you, I speak from experience. :D

This very thing happened to me not more than a few weeks ago, when the weather was still mostly hospitable but brisk enough to keep most people indoors as the sun left the sky.

There we were, strolling through the neighborhood park, quite aware of being all alone.

Passing by one bench -- quite close to the entrance.

Passing by another -- still in plain view of the cars zipping by on the street.

Approaching a third bench -- tucked away in the quiet trees of the park, facing away from the street, away from the empty playground on the other side of the green, protected from the view of backyards by rows of tall bushes and branches of leaves.

A pause.

A look -- exchanged.

We are both thinking one thing. Although I am feeling nervous and anxious and giddy all at once.

He is just giddy. :D


Before I can think too much, I am already being pulled toward the bench. In one fluid motion he sits down and guides me over his lap, ignoring my verbal protestations and frantic glancing around to make absolutely positively undeniably sure that we are without a doubt inescapably and totally alone.

SMACK!

Already his hand is coming down on the seat of my jeans -- hard and fast and without any regard for the sound that must be echoing all through the park right now.

SMACK! SMACK!

Suddenly my jeans are coming down and it's all I can do to keep from crying out, not wanting to draw any attention whatsoever from the surrounding brush. Even the flowers blooming so brightly nearby should turn away and hide their colors, in my opinion. No eye should be drawn in this direction!

SMACK SMACK SMACK!

Now he is spanking me over my panties, my face beet red, the sound of his hand on my skin amplified by the lack of thick cloth to muffle each smack.

As quick as it began, it is over. My pants come back up, and I scurry to sit up next to him and hide my face in his chest. Terrified to look around to see if even a single living soul has ventured within the park in the last 45 seconds.

He is chuckling, stroking my hair and holding me, safe in his knowledge that I will soon look up at him with my face shining, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Once I calmed down, and was assured that we were in fact alone the whole time, we decided to take some pictures in order to solidify a shared memory of the event. It was, in effect, the first time he had truly spanked me outdoors, and as we planned to add to that a great many more times, remembering the first was special for us.

He took off his hat, and we set it on the bench right where he had been sitting. We snapped the photo above, and now every time we walk by that bench, day or night, alone or in public, we will both smile and remember :D

Good Morning Spanking

There I am, half asleep, covered in sheets, glad for a morning of sleeping in without worry of needing to rush off to work.

There he is, dressed and showered and ready to go, shirt buttoned, belt buckled, tie knotted and three minutes left before he has to walk out the door to catch the train.

He taps me awake, just enough for a goodbye kiss.

"Are you going?" I can't keep the drowsiness out of my voice... My eyes are half-open.

"Yes, Beautiful."

But his hand is reaching for my arm, turning me over under the sheets.

Before I can fully realize what is happening, he is spanking me, his movements effortless, the sounds of his hand muffled by the thin, cool layer of soft cloth, but the sting real, and hard.

He is spanking me to make sure that I will feel him today, still with me, even while his physical presence is elsewhere.

And, rest-assured, I did feel him.
All day long. :D:D:D

Happy Day :D

For the past few birthdays, I have been transitioning into that state of being where suddenly -- even though it really happens slowly and surely , bu you know how years can seem sudden once you actually stop and take a look - where suddenly, one's birthday becomes less about "growing up, " and more about growing forward. Less about monumental changes and milestones like becoming a "teenager," getting braces, or graduating high school, and more about recognizing both the big and the little things that have come to pass in the last year which led you to where you are now.

It used to be that growing a year older meant that I was losing baby teeth, or entering a new grade in school, or legally permitted to consume alcohol, or going off to college. Even turning 23, it meant that I had graduated college, and was moving across the country to enter graduate school.

This year, as I ebb ever nearer and nearer to accomplishing a full quarter of my life, I have weathered and grown from many changes. The difference is, these are changes presented to be by life, rather than guided my way by our cultural age-appropriate milestones. I have fallen in love, and begun a partnered journey that feels so new to me, and yet so familiar. I have stumbled upon a spanking community that is more perfect than anything I could ever have imagined, and I have opened the door to "the real world" after 20 years of being in classes year-round, finding challegens and opportunities that I never even knew existed. Oh, and I got a smart-phone. About time, right? :D

I know there will still be many age-related changes coming my way -- next year I will be able to rent a car without the additional "you are still in the: Statistically-proven-to-drive-like-you-just-got-your-license-yesterday age-bracket" insurance-related fee. In many more years I may find myself smack in the middle of a mid-life crisis.

But this year, it is nice to realize that I am in charge of making my own changes now.


So far, I think I've been doing pretty darn good :D

------
Any grammatical errors in the above text are the responsibility of my iPhone -- even though I didn't use it to write this post... hehe :-)

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!!!

Countdown Caning

So all of you (you know who you are!) who have been dropping hints either subtly or unsubtly, directly or indirectly, that MrA should have so much fun caning me over the next few weeks before the swiftly approaching Spanking Weekend in the Mountains, so that by the time we get there to see all of you, his ability to cane anyone will be all worn out -- (xoxo love you guys :D, but) I will have you know, MrA is taking you quite seriously!

I've never been caned so often in my life!

(Not a very big jump, there, as I've never been spanked so often in my life either, before moving in with a spanko...) :D

Just recently, in fact, we both discovered a new "game" to have fun with the cane -- really, one could use any implement, I suppose, but somehow the alliteration of "Countdown Caning" just sounds so perfect :D

We have tried out this novel new idea more than once now, and loved it every time!

Here's how it goes:

After each stroke of the cane, you do a countdown. The trick is, with each successive stroke, the countdown gets shorter. So say, for example, you want to start the countdown at 10 -- it would look (sound) something like this:

WHACK

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one--"

WHACK

"Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one--"

WHACK

"Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one--"

ETC...

Do you see how it could become terribly exciting very quickly? :D:D The countdown continues to shorten, so that by the time you get down to:

WHACK
"Three, two, one--"
WHACK
"Two, one--"
WHACK
"One--"
WHACK!

Each stroke is coming so much faster each time!

But you've already been "warmed up" with the slower ones in the beginning, so mostly what it does is get your adrenaline going, rather than hurt more (although it does hurt just a little bit more :D:D).

Fun fun fun :D I'm sure that MrA will be happy and willing to teach the countdown caning game to anyone interested in playing :):) Just as long as you don't ask for a demonstration first!!

:D:D Happy spanks!!

Arlington Girls Reformatory

Remember when I set out to write a spanking story for a collection of such stories that Abel and Haron planned to turn into a book with proceeds going to charity? Well, it's been written! And the book will be coming out soon -- be sure to check back here often, and Abel and Haron's blog, for the release date and more information!

Meanwhile, please enjoy this small taste of the events surrounding and immediately succeeding my own literary contribution to the book: a story entitled, Arlington Girls' Reformatory. :D

~~~

He was seated when I entered, his legs crossed, his iPad in hand, his brow furrowed. He looked up at me from his desk chair after a moment -- I averted my eyes, unable to meet his gaze.


"Miss Bailey. Sit down..." His gesture offered a chair, straight-backed, armless -- it had been deliberately placed there, waiting for me. As I sat, my skirt barely reaching my mid-thighs as the material tightened, he transferred the device he'd been holding into my hands. I saw at once what he had uploaded onto its screen: a PDF of the referral I had received, which had landed me here in the first place. "Read. I will be with you in a moment."

My eyes rolled over the accusatory document, reading carefully but with familiarity -- I had perused this very document in great detail only days before.

"Arlington Reform School
Discipline Referral Form"

It read across the top. I'd had to fill in the word, "Arlington," as the reform school hadn't even been named yet at the time this form had been created.

"Student's Name: Rayne Bailey
Status: Emeritus"

Well, I had founded the school after-all! Seeing as how I'd created the whole concept for the purposes of my "creative writing" assignment. Although, it seemed quite extraordinary to be in this predicament, sitting here in this chair, reading this referral with my name on it, awaiting my fate, as an "emeritus" member of the Arlington Girls' Reformatory. The situation must have been quite serious!

"Reason for Referral: Lack of motivation, Scheduling problems, and Other: Missed multiple deadlines"

All of these offenses were checked. A spacious lined area also offered the writer of the referral plenty of room to expound upon the offenses of the referred, and here my punisher had written quite a few words of explanation. I had not only missed the first deadline for turning in my story, and received an extension... I had then proceeded to miss the second, extended deadline. Luckily, I still finished my story in time for it to make the book, and all turned out well. But in the process, I had put quite a lot of stress on myself, and not to mention on my partner, who weathered the storm with me through two long weekends of writing and revising.

And there he was again, returning to his seat at his desk, considering me.

"Finished?" I nod, and hand the tablet back to him. He receives it coolly. "Is everything written here correct, Miss Bailey?"

"Yes, Sir."

"All of the names and dates?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And the offenses, you admit to committing them? You had no less than three months to complete your assignment, and yet you procrastinated enough to miss not only one, but two deadlines?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Is there anything more I should know about this situation, Miss Bailey?"

This question is slightly unexpected. Anything more he should know? Any extenuating circumstances that may have accounted for her tardiness, her inability to finish on time, even though she did finish in enough time...? The fact that she had just recently finished graduate school and moved three states away, the fact that she had recently fallen in love and invited the life of a-whole-nother person into her own, which accounted for much of her time spent doing many things other than writing?

Of course he should know these things! But glancing up into his eyes, it was clear that should she choose to utter any of them, it would only make things worse for her. Excuses, they would be, and excuses alone -- not nearly excusing the fact that it had taken her three months to start working on a work that was to be published as part of a multi-author volume.

"No, Sir."

"Very well. Stand up, Miss Bailey, and face the corner. I want you to think about what is going to happen to you, and why."

Obeying, I can feel my senses enter hyper-mode as I try to track his movements behind me. His hands are on the straight-backed chair, moving it, adjusting its positioning. He is off to another corner of the room, retrieving something -- something light enough that it makes not a sound as he lifts it and carries it nearer.

"Come here, Miss Bailey."

I turn. My eyes are lowered, not searching for his face -- but instead for his hand. For what is in his hand. It is long, thin, crook-handled. One of the canes we had recently purchased for just this purpose.

"Bend forward over the back of the chair, place your hands on the seat."

It is all I can do not to whimper as I take my position. This will be the first time that MrA has ever caned me.

"You'll receive three with the smallest cane, for the first deadline you missed."

His distinction of exactly which cane he was using puts me on guard. We have three, you see. A small one, a Junior cane, and a Senior cane. How many of them is he going to use tonight? Not all three??

As he raises my skirt, his instructions issue forth: "Count each one, and make sure I can hear you."

The first stroke comes as a total shock -- hard and fast, the first time we have played a scene together without any form of warm-up.

"Ahh! One, Sir!"

The next two with the small cane are easier to take, but no less painful. Despite its small size, that little cane still lands quite a sting.

After a hissed, "Threeee, Sir," he pauses, and instructs me to stand.

"Back to the corner, Miss Bailey. No rubbing." Behind me, he moves to place the small cane back where it came from, retrieving another. My bottom is already burning -- and yet I know we're only half way done now, if that.

Only about 45 seconds pass before he is calling me back over the chair. "Same position, but this time," and before I can do anything, his hands have not only raised my skirt, but lowered my white panties, leaving them stretched across my thighs, framing his target perfectly. "For missing the second deadline, Miss Bailey, you will receive three with the Junior cane. Start the count back at one."

He is lining up this first stroke with the next-size-up cane, I am biting my lip, grateful at least for the brief warm-up afforded to me by his initial use of the smaller cane.

Swish--CRACK!

"Aii! One, Sir!"

The next comes swiftly, and I hardly have time to catch my breath -- Whap! "Two, Sir,"

The third and final stroke is the hardest of all, leaving me breathless and whispering my final count.

"Stay where you are."

No, please, that's it, isn't it? We're done, right? Why are you going back and picking up another cane??

"For all the stress you put yourself through, not to mention your professor, and your partner, you will be receiving one stroke with the Senior cane. As it is just the one, there will be no need to count."

My mind is spinning -- I have never felt a Senior cane before -- not in my life -- even just one stroke with that thick piece of rounded rattan seems unthinkable!

There it is on my skin, tapping lightly, taking aim. Suddenly it is gone and I know it is coming --

Whoosh--CRACK!

It is all I can do to keep from yowling at the pain -- the sudden fiery line of white that flashes across my skin, just like any other cane but somehow much, much worse. "I'm sorry -- I'm sorry, Love--"

"I know. It's all over now. Come here."

And I am up in his arms, myself again, and we are both grinning from ear to ear at the success of our first role-played scene together, let alone our first real caning!

We got the canes (which we love) from Cane-iac.com, and they actually included another cane for us as a special surprise -- a straight-handle about the size of the Junior! All are lovely!

Here's to many more role-plays, much more use of the canes, and many more posts thereof! :D