Thursday, March 31, 2011

Weighing Options

Remember my last new hairbrush? The red, velvety paddle brush??

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have recently acquired aNOTHER new hairbrush! What was I thinking????

I walked innocently into a local pharmacy, looking for something else entirely, stumbled (quite accidentally! They just pop up out of nowhere in those stores!) on the hair accessories section, and was quite amazed to find, not one, but TWO lovely, weighty, broad, straight-backed prospects.

One wooden, with a very nice grip, and one fo-wooden (looks like wood but is something else), and heavier than most other hairbrushes I have ever encountered.

What was a poor spanko to do?

After carefully weighing my options (for about 2.8 seconds), I finally strode right up to the check-out counter with both in hand. The strapping young lad behind the counter must have wondered what on earth any girl in her right mind would be doing that would require TWO hairbrushes...

"Gifts..." I muttered, briefly catching his inquisitive glance and then looking down. Lame excuse, of course -- again, who in their right mind would want a hairbrush as a gift?? :D

But it seemed to satisfy him, at least superficially, because next minute I was walking to my car, two new hairbrushes dangling in a plastic bag at my side.

"Two??" you may be asking... Yes, I did say that I have one new hairbrush, not two. So what happened to the other...??

Well, dear readers, let me tell you: I thought it would be fun (what fun!) to turn my good fortune into a game with a friend I knew I would be visiting soon. It is true, I enjoy finding such perfect implements in every-day innocuous stores, but really, what on earth was I going to do with two hairbrushes? I'm not that crazy!

I immediately texted him to let him know what I had found, and that he would be receiving one, quite truthfully, as a gift -- but that it would be up to him to use whatever means necessary in order to decide which one he wanted!!

Yes, I am sure you all can tell exactly where this is going...! :D

(Lovely drawing found on All Things Spanking)

So, not more than a few days later, there I was, over his lap, while he labored over his decision, weighing his options quite judiciously!

"Hmmm..." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "I like this one, because it is wood, and that definitely carries a certain traditional appeal..."

SMACK! SMACK! "But this one is nice because of the weight... how does that feel?" SMACK! SMACK! "More thuddy, or stingy?"

The evil grin in his voice needs no visual confirmation. He is enjoying himself quite immensely!

"Owwww...oooh both, Sir..."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "Do you need a bit more comparison? Which one stings more?"

"Oooh-ahh! That one, Sir!"

"Mmhm I thought it might..." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Whatever possessed me to think that this would be a fun game??

By the end of it, dear readers, my bottom was quite red -- and I was one hairbrush less, but no less acquainted with either one!

He ended up choosing the stingier wooden one (of which I neglected to get a picture before passing it along!), which means I now claim ownership of the thuddier, heavier one that looks quite deceptively like wood, but isn't (pictured at left) :D

In all honesty, this one hurts quite a bit more (deeper impact) -- and therefore I am very happy to be more in control of its use!

Well... at least, to be under the illusion of such control, anyway... :D (Much easier to hide it if I know where it is!!)

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Corner Time

I have been ordered to stand in a corner (in real life) twice in my twenty-some years. Both times as an adult, and both times in conjunction with spanking exploits. Both while bare *blush* : )

The first time was for a solid fifteen minutes.

In the living room.

With big bay windows facing the street (thankfully, a large, full-foliage tree covered most of the view...), and a glass sliding door leading out to the patio in the back yard.

I could see right out into the yard -- it was lined with high hedges, not a soul in sight... (thank god). :)

He was sitting at the table right behind me, shuffling papers and doing work, while I stood there, nose in the corner, red bottom on display -- as if my being there like that was completely normal and matter-of-fact. Something that just happens to naughty girls, no questions asked. *blush*

(The above two photos are both gems that I found on Through Arianna's Looking Glass)

He had just finished spanking me in the room down the hall, after which he had immediately proceeded to haul me through the house, jeans and panties around my ankles, out into the living room, and place me firmly where I stood, informing me that should I move before he told me I could come out, we'd be pulling a chair out onto the backyard patio and he would spank me out there!

In broad daylight!

(As a side-note, we did have a safe-word, and I recognized this as more of an exhilarating threat than an actual possibility -- as he knew very well of the fine line I walk between exhibitionism and concern for my own safety.)

I did not move an inch, dear readers -- I dared not move a muscle!

Every once in a while, I would hear him stop working, sense him turn in his seat, and feel his gaze on me -- nonchalant, as if surveying the clock for the time -- but each time I knew he was looking, by face flushed and I tried that much harder not to move, as the urge to squirm intensified...

(Artwork by Sassy Bottoms)

The second time that I have ever been ordered to a corner, which just happened very recently, was for (thankfully!) a substantially shorter period of time -- but equally as significant :)

Again, he had just finished spanking me. When he ordered me up off his lap, I had immediately pulled my panties up. He pointed across the room and said, "In the corner, pull your panties back down to your knees, hands together behind your back."

With my bottom burning, and still gaining my balance back after being tipped over his lap, it must have been taking me too long to get situated in the corner -- he came over and peremptorily helped position my hands where he wanted them, intensifying my sense of his authority over me.

To keep my panties at my knees, I had to bend one calf out a little -- really not wanting them to drop to my ankles... There's something terribly exposing about feeling them there, so close, and yet not close enough!

I stood there, panties around my knees, my face as red as my bottom, knowing that he was right behind me but not sure whether he was watching or not... Breathing heavily from the very recent spanking, and from pure embarrassment... My mind reeling and heart racing...

(Artwork by Escobar)

It was a least a few minutes. Long enough for my breathing to slow and my mind to quiet ever so slightly. Only then, when he heard me starting to calm down after several long minutes, did he tell me to come out of the corner and lay over the pile of pillows on the bed -- he was taking off his belt...!

Whatever could have possessed me to think that we were done?! Apparently, corner time can serve just as well as "intermission" as it can signal the end of a spanking -- something I will have to remember in future! :D

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Charity Spanking Anthology!

I am super excited!!

The illustrious and wonderfully generous Abel and Haron of The Spanking Writers have decided to organize the publication of a collection of original spanking stories from various writers, the proceeds of which will be donated to charity. They have invited many kinky authors, from many walks of life, to participate -- and I am very happy and honored to be among them!

This will be my first venture into kinky publication (outside of this blog, which is a certain kind of publication in itself...). All of the stories will be original -- written exclusively for this book.

How exciting!!!!

More updates will be coming about this project soon, and you can read more about it on this entry of The Spanking Writers.

The plan is to publish before the end of the year! :D I hope all of you lovely readers will enjoy the final product when it is finished!

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."


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!

Friday, March 11, 2011

His Hands

What is the first thing you look at when you see a promising prospect for the first time? When you're walking down the street, people-watching? Male or female, opposite or same gender -- what is the very first thing you tend to notice about a person?

Where do your eyes go first, on a purely superficial level?

Yes, lovely people, we are talking purely, unabashedly, blatantly, and beautifully superfluous -- usually I am much more a proponent of emotional/spiritual/mental connection and all of that -- but that, of course, would come later. Right now, I'm just talking down and dirty gut-reaction physical attention -- what grabs yours in those first few moments?


For my part, my eager eyes go right to his hands. (Or hers, depending on the day... But we'll leave that for another story =D)

It's only logical, right?

I mean... Well. You know what I mean :D

Not only do I notice, firstly, his hands in themselves, but, quite often, I find myself also making mental note of where they are, how he holds them, what they are doing when he is not necessarily thinking about them...

The way a person chooses to carry his hands can say quite a lot about him: his confidence, his comfort level, his personality... Even acting as an indicator for mood -- is he feeling thoughtful, pensive? Is he agitated? Is he feeling easy-going, or tightly-wound and tense?

Recently, I stumbled upon a lovely little compendium of body-language information, all about the placement of one's hands. It's easy enough to find, if you care to look for such things. Now, don't quote me on this -- I cannot verify the sources or the truthfulness of this information, but, all the same, it is certainly quite fun to read...! :D

I will share with you two of my personal favorites:

1) Steepled Hands

"People who are confident, superior types or who use minimal or restricted body gestures often use this gesture, and, by doing so, they signal their confident attitude. It is frequently used in superior/subordinate interaction and it can be an isolated gesture which indicates a confident or 'know-it-all' attitude. Managers often use this gesture position when giving instructions or advice to subordinates and it is particularly common among accountants, lawyers, managers and the like."

It would also be "particularly common," I daresay, among Headmasters lecturing wayward students before administering a caning...

2) "Superiority confidence gesture" (honestly, just who comes up with these names??)

"Superiority/Confidence Gesture - Several prominent male members of the British Royal Family are noted for their habit of walking with their head up, chin out and one palm gripping the other hand behind the back. Not only does British Royalty use this gesture; it is common among Royalty of many countries. On the local scene, the gesture is used by the policeman patrolling his beat, the headmaster of the local school when he is walking through the school yard, senior military personnel and others in a position of authority."

Oh, :)

So let's hear it, lads and lasses -- what's your guilty pleasure in those first few moments of visual contact...?

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Kinky Wear: Over-the-Knee Socks Edition

I looooove over-the-knee socks. Yes, I said "socks..."

...Not "spanking." Although, if you mistook, no worries: I could very probably say the same thing about that... :D

Besides their obviously thought-provoking name, this item of kinky wear appeals to me on a number of levels.

One could compare them to thigh-high stockings (worth a-whole-nother post, on their own!) -- and yet, they are different.

There is something... I don't know... perhaps a little more innocent? Perhaps more along the lines of "cute" rather than "sexy," in over-the-knee socks? (Although, they can be quite sexy, too!) And while sexy is a good very thing, sometimes, "cute" is more what I am looking for...

Over-the-knee socks are quite versatile...!

Good for both the wintry cold of snowy months...

...and the summery heat of mid-July.

They are fantastically fashionable -- perfect for pairing with skirts, dresses, tunics...

...but can also stand quite well on their own...

They are lovely for a comfy, lazy day, perfect for lounging around the house...

... And yet equally as fitting for a night out on the town!

Depending on one's mood (or company), they can be quite demure...

...or eye-brow-raisingly bold and ostentatious!

They are perfect for outdoor sports!

They can be quite elegant... Simple, classic...

... or spice things up with a little flair!

All-in-all, Ladies and Gentlemen, over-the-knee socks have more to them than a suspiciously kinky name: they are a delightful addition to any kinky wardrobe in need of some definite spank-factor. =D

Saturday, March 5, 2011

New Blog! Lea's Corner

A lovely new blog has joined us in spank-o-sphere!

Hop on over to Lea's Corner at Musings of a Bottom -- she is delightful and has quite lovely taste! Let her know what you think of:

Her most recent post, in which she details an action-packed review of two brand new implements for her growing collection, beautiful paddles from Kitty's Exotic Paddles.

One is shaped like a little guitar!! The musician in me is swooning! :D

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

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.