Monday, September 27, 2010

R _ d / _ o t t _ m

Can any of you wonderfully clever people guess what naughty two-word combo I happened to type into Google image search recently, which yielded results like these...??

Certainly not "catty shoes"... or "filigree boxes"... or "naughty nurses"...

:D I'll give you a hint...

This one, a gem of a find, very nearly hit the spot... :D

Sunday, September 19, 2010


So as any doting parent would, my loving mother wanted so very much to help me pack up for my recent move. It was a big one, after-all, moving across country for the longest projected stretch that I'd ever been outside of my home state -- naturally I would be bringing along quite a load of cargo, and would of course, in her mind, appreciate any and all help she could offer.

Of course, this posed a certain dilemma to my kinky self -- sure, it would be nice to have her help, and appease some of her 'eldest child leaving the nest' syndrome, but how would I be sure that something terrifyingly kinky wouldn't pop up unexpectedly while we scoured through my belongings together?

I resolved to simply do an initial scouring myself, purging my room of anything remotely kinky (thongs, skirts, implements, vibrators, shoes far more fetish-y than would have been considered normal, fetish-related books, etc...) BEFORE she arrived to help me pack up the rest. I put everything I didn't want her to see into an opaque tub, with a snap-shut lid, placed it outside my bedroom door, and piled a bunch of other miscellaneous unimportant heavy things on top of and around it. The safest way I could think of to shield my particularly deviant interests from the one person in my life I would be most unwilling to share them with... :)

So, my mother came to town, and we set to work, going inch-by-inch through my room-full of belongings, deciding what I would take with me, what I could discard, and what she would take back with her to put in storage in my old room at her house, etc...

I knew that I'd put a lot of things I wouldn't need, and hadn't used all year, in the bottom of my closet, so I encouraged her to start going through that while I was looking through some old papers, deciding what was important enough to file away. She pulled out old books, a stuffed animal or two, stored materials for miscellaneous projects long since abandoned, and then, a plastic bag.

I didn't think twice about the bag, absorbed as I was in my stack of papers on the other side of my room, until my mother began unraveling it. Slowly, very slowly, as she quickly peeled away layers of plastic bag, I began to see more clearly what had been packed away inside. It was black, thin, and maybe a little over a foot long.

...[[insert an ineffable moment of intense panic here]]...

She finished unraveling, and out of the bag, into her hand, landed a black leather strap.

This black leather strap, to be precise...

Which is actually one of the meanest-looking implements I own, if in fact one of the least menacing in actuality...

How did I handle this inopportune situation? My fellow spankos -- I was so proud of myself!

Without missing a beat, as she turned to look up at me with the strap in her hand, I assumed a completely non-plussed, nonchalant expression and turned back to my papers as if nothing out of ordinary had happened, and intoned quite emotionless-ly, "Well, you can see why that was packed away under everything and completely forgotten..."

It had, in fact, been forgotten, although not for the reasons that I was implying.

She shrugged, quite innocently believing me, rolled it back up in the plastic bag, set it down, and went back to removing old belongings from the mysterious depths of my closet. I breathed, praying that nothing else of the kind would show up, and neither of us has mentioned the brief incident since! (*touch wood*)

By goodness, though, was that a scare. :D You can imagine where my heart jumped to in that instant -- I still get shivers just thinking about how much worse that could have been... *Phew!!*

At least I know that I will have the ability to handle it grandly, should there ever come another situation where I may feel just as unequivocally "busted" in the future... :D

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Kinky Gaga

If anyone has ever seen the fabulous show America's Best Dance Crew (ABDC), you may recognize this clip:

ABDC's Bluprint Cru: Lady Gaga Challenge

It's a Canadian group (I know... "America's?"), called Blueprint Cru, performing their Lady Gaga challenge to "Bad Romance" : )

They surprised me, too, when I watched the debut performance in the living room with my housemates! :P

I've always thought that Lady Gaga seemed to exhibit rather dark and dangerous motifs... And she's definitely not the only popstar to do so, either :D This rendition of Bad Romance taps very deeply and I think accurately into the turbulent, morbid decadence under-pinning not only this song, but a lot of miss Gaga's work.

While this clip is quite devoid of spanking, the overall BDSM and kink-tastic themes are quite fascinating :D

Saturday, September 11, 2010

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

As a young and budding spanko, I found myself -- much in the same vein as with the aforementioned childhood tale of Peter Rabbit -- quite thoroughly fascinated with another classic tale, this one of American origin, quite a bit longer, and absolutely rampant with the myriad adventures of rather naughty young heros and heroines.

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,
by the ever-entertaining and thought-provoking Mark Twain, details quite a few instances, actually, of Tom's encounters with implement-wielding adults. In the very First Chapter, Tom finds himself at the mercy of his Aunt, after having been caught sneaking jam in the closet...

Then later (Chapter 6) Tom runs amok with the schoolmaster, having decided on a whim of folly to tell the truth about why he'd been late for class...

But my absolute favorite part (all of Chapter 20), which I must detail for you here, is when it is actually our heroine, the young Becky Thatcher, who commits the major offense, and Tom who becomes her true hero : ) The build-up is intense, the emotions within our poor young girl ever so true to my heart, and the writing superb -- please enjoy, and if you get the chance to pick up the book, it really is a very entertaining read! :D

Excerpt from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, by Mark Twain:

Chapter XX:

There was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him light-hearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said:

"I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live -- please make up, won't you?"

The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face:

"I'll thank you to keep yourself to yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again."

She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away.

Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page -- Professor Somebody's Anatomy -- carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece -- a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation.

"Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at."

"How could I know you was looking at anything?"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school."

Then she stamped her little foot and said:

"Be so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!" -- and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying.

Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself:

"What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl -- they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does -- ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix -- let her sweat it out!"

Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still -- because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!"

Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout -- he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle.

A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick -- something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good! -- he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost -- the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten -- the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?"

There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt.

"Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?"

A denial. Another pause.

"Joseph Harper, did you?"

Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys -- considered a while, then turned to the girls:

"Amy Lawrence?"

A shake of the head.

"Gracie Miller?"

The same sign.

"Susan Harper, did you do this?"

Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation.

"Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face -- it was white with terror] -- "did you tear -- no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] -- "did you tear this book?"

A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted -- "I done it!"

The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed -- for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either.

Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear --

"Tom, how could you be so noble!"...

:D Thank you for reading!

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Kinky Wear: Restraint Edition

'Tis almost morning,
I would have thee gone—
And yet no farther than a wan-ton's bird,
That lets it hop a little from his hand,

Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silken thread
plucks it b
ack again,
So loving-jealous
of his liberty.

I would I were thy bird.

Sweet, so would I,
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night!
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

When I moved across the country to graduate school, I left behind a wonderful community of friends and family, both kinky and vanilla. In particular, as a part of a polyamorous BDSM family (a household, actually, of which I was a non-house member), I learned a great deal about myself, about the kinky lifestyle, about relationships, and about BDSM in general (and not to mention fit in quite a bit of spanking :D). I forged incredible relationships with people who will remain with me forever -- souls intertwined in our lives' journeys, whom I shall never forget, and with whom I will always remain closely tied.

But for now, I am away, on toward new adventures, and the experience of parting has never been easy for me to quantify. Both good and bad, happy and sad, but overall a beautiful new feeling of change and growth and forward-thinking along with lovely memories and experiences from a wonderful past.

Before I left, I did receive, quite to my surprise, a particularly luxurious and humbling parting gift:

This is a custom-made set of restraints, complete with my favorite color (purple), my favorite animal/mythical creature (dragon), and my name (Rayne). They are black leather, made with a soft lining and adjustable in size, along with the capability to fit into T-bar attachments for ease and versatility of bondage use.

I was blown away when I saw them : )

These would be much more than I would be able to afford from any maker for at least several years -- they are beautifully constructed by a master craftsman and will be with me through my lifestyle journeys forever : )

Thank you, my dear Professor, and while parting may be such sweet sorrow, I will always have you in my heart :D

(Statue photography by Tony Northrup; if anyone happens to know the artist of the lovely painting please enlighten me!)

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Happy Birthday :D

Today is a wondrous day -- my birthday! :D

No spankings as of yet, but I shall keep you posted... =) Meanwhile, please enjoy the delightful little postcard I found above, as published by David C. Cook in 1909. My we spankos go back quite a ways, don't we? :D