Ode to our stress relievers (AKA spankers)

OK, without going into an abundance of detail, let's just say this past weekend sucked eggs. Saturday was a whole lot of stress and aggravation and heat and traffic, culminating in a horrible fight between John and me. In the car, on the freeway. Fortunately, I'm sane enough to keep my head while behind the wheel and I didn't crash us into a divider (or another car). But it was highly unpleasant. Many apologies (both of ours) and a million tears (mine) later, we are OK. But it left me feeling shell-shocked, fatigued and tense. I hate fighting. I hate confrontation. And I go into emotional overload.

So I was more than ready for ST today, and guess what? He was more than willing to help me with my stress problem. Whatta guy, huh? So, to the tune of the Rolling Stones' "Mother's Little Helper" (embedded below), I have penned "Stress Releasing Helper."





What a drag it is, being stressed

Life is oh-so-hard today,
I hear every bottom say,
Baby needs something today to calm her down
And though she’s not really ill
When she’s acting like a pill
She goes running for the shelter
Of her Stress Releasing Helper
And he puts her OTK
Spanks her till she feels okay

Feeling like a shrew today
I hear every bottom say,
She just can’t stop acting out, it’s such a drag
So she eats a frozen cake
Till she gets a stomach ache
And goes running for the shelter
Of her Stress Releasing Helper
And he knows just what to do
Spanks her bottom black and blue

Spanker please, lots more of these,
I’m still not sane, I need more pain!
What a drag it is, being stressed

Jobs are such a bitch today,
I hear every bottom say,
Bosses think you’re there to work, how fucked is that?
Now they want her to stay late,
She says “NO, I’ve got a date!”
And goes running for the shelter
Of her Stress Releasing Helper
She forgets about the rut
While he’s whaling on her butt

Spanker please, I’m o’er your knees
I’m full of steam, please make me scream!
What a drag it is, being stressed

Life will piss you off today
I hear every bottom say
Plain vanilla every day is just a bore
It’s a spanking that she’ll need
Not the pills and not the weed
She goes running for the shelter
Of her Stress Releasing Helper
He will spank her backside bright
And she’ll sleep in peace tonight

Feeling so much better. Thank you, darlin'. You're so much better than any drug (cuter, too). :-)

My "sweet 16" celebration

Yeah, yeah. Chronologically, I'm a whole lot older than 16. But today, in spanko years, I am 16. On Memorial Day 1996, a handsome, dominant man came into my apartment and introduced me to spanking, and my world was never the same again.

I wanted to forget about all the stress and heartache and just have fun. I fleetingly thought about buying some champagne, but ran out of time. On Friday, we'd had a brief power outage, not much longer than an hour. When it came back on, one of my cable boxes had blown out. So today, the cable guy was coming over between 3 and 5. Fortunately, he was here by 3:40 and out of here by 4:05. So I had plenty enough time to get ready for ST, but not enough to nip back out to get champagne. Oh well.

When he showed up bearing his toy bag as usual, I thought nothing of it. Until he sat on my couch, unzipped it and pulled out a greeting card. I was so tickled! It was a "blank inside" card with SWEET! written on the front, and he'd filled in a "Happy Sweet 16" message inside. That alone would have delighted me, but then he reached into his bag again, and pulled out... you guessed it. A bottle of ice-cold champagne. :-D  How wonderful is this man!!

I practically danced into the kitchen, getting the glasses while he opened it. We decided that we'd have one glass now, and then another after playing. And then HE decided we were going to combine some of my implements with his to total 16, and he'd give me 16 swats with each one. Of course, his hand wouldn't count.

I had barely eaten anything all day -- I don't usually like to eat before scenes, so my stomach was empty. And that first glass of champagne slammed into me, full force. Delightfully so. It wasn't more than a few minutes before I was giggling and talking funny and acting like a, well, a 16-year-old.

I know the spanking with 16 implements + hand must have hurt. But damned if I remember any of it.

I do recall that I obliterated another cane...

OK, so maybe it did hurt a little.

But hey! It was time for more champagne!

Uh oh! My glass foameth over!

We got a bit rambunctious in the kitchen, with ST determined to find every single pervertable I had in my kitchen drawers. I took smacks from wooden spoons, spatulas, a frosting spreader, a frying pan he plucked out of the dish drainer, a pair of chopsticks, a cake slicer (NOT serrated, no worries). And of course, one of my spoons bit the dust.

That second glass took me from tipsy to slightly woozy (yes, really -- that's all it takes with me), so I drank about 2/3 of it and then lay on the couch with my head in ST's lap. I felt blissfully content, singing along with the iTunes radio playing on my computer, and we stayed there for a long time, chatting and relaxing. My head cleared, and when I told him the effects had worn off, he took that as a green light for us to play again. No complaints here! ST seemed unaffected by the champagne; I guess it's a guy thing (they're bigger and they can absorb more??). I've never seen John so much as tipsy either.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, after Round #3, I finished that second glass of champagne.

So... 16 years of spanking. Millions of swats, maybe? Well, thousands, anyway. What was the difference between Memorial Day 1996 and Memorial Day 2012?

Hmmm... well, in 1996, I marked like crazy. In 1996, it was just his hand, not 16 implements plus a drawerful of kitchen utensils. In 1996, I was a clean canvas, feeling myriad new emotions and sensations, and certain that I'd fallen in love with my spanker.

But in truth, I barely knew him. I never even found out his last name. I didn't know where he lived. He did incredible things to me and I'll always be grateful to him, but he was a stranger nonetheless. And what I fell in love with was what he gave me.

So I suppose that's the biggest difference, between 1996 and 2012. Today, it wasn't a stranger. Today, it was the bestest top ever, and -- even better -- a great friend. And this man, I love to bits. ♥

My chronological 16th birthday sucked, as I recall. But this 16th was indeed sweet. I'm going to treat myself to some chocolate and a few episodes of Dark Shadows, and then slip off to sleep.

Hope everyone had a good three-day weekend.

Deja Vu all over again

The Valentine's Day corset, revisited! ST was able to exchange the small for a medium, no problem. Oh, and he found something out while he was back at Frederick's. Turns out the corset unhooks after all.

No, not in the front, which was where I searched for hooks. But all down one side, hidden in the seam, are hook-and-eyes. Last week's epic struggles to get me into that thing weren't necessary. Oops.

(blushing) See, told you I'm unsophisticated about corsets.

So this one I was able to get into myself, although I did enlist ST's help in hooking it and then tying up the back. And it fit perfectly!

He watched while I pulled on the stockings and buckled my shoes, snapping candid photos. He likes to do that. And I end up deleting most of them, because I don't like how I look. However, every now and then, one comes out pretty well, I think:

A little something for the legs and feet folks. :-D

Of course we had to take one from the back, just so you could see how much better this one fit:

Enough of that. We had to get down to business.

I've been in a different place the last few sessions; a quieter version of myself. Hard to believe, I know. But I haven't really felt like bantering or sassing as much, not once we get past warmup. Not sure why; I just want to feel. To get lost in sensation; hear nothing but my own breathing, my own moans, the cracks of his hand and the implements.

I don't remember what he did, or in what order. I don't care. I just know I went someplace with him and I didn't want to come back. It took me a very long time to open my eyes and lift my head.

He was patient. He was in no hurry either.

Eventually I returned, and he hunkered down next to me on the chair. We listened to the music playing. My favorite local radio station has been airing a special program for the past week or so: a selection of 2000 songs from their library, played in alphabetical order, no repeats. Tonight, they were well into the S's and "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" by Pink Floyd was playing.

I like to try guessing what comes next. Sometimes I'm spot on, but I couldn't come up with the next song to save my life. Or my ass, as it happened. Because ST said if I couldn't guess the next song, he'd spank me all through it. Aggggghhhh!

Shine? Shining? Shirt? Shiver? Perhaps no more songs with Shi, but one with Sho? I was blanking. As the song wound to a close, he kept prompting me, "You'd better come up with something! It's almost over!" But it was no use.

Then the opening chords of the next song began, and I cussed mightily. DAMMIT! "Shiny Happy People" by REM. I hate that stupid song. No wonder I couldn't think of it.

I hate it even more, now. :-(  Never realized how @#$%ing long it is.

However, I was able to come up with the song after that. Yay me!

It was "Ship of Fools" by the Doors, by the way. Yes, I'm easily entertained.

When ST was leaving, I thanked him once again for the beautiful corset, saying it was very generous of him. He leered at me, his eyes leisurely wandering from shoulder to hip. "I didn't buy it for you," he smirked.

Oh, yes you did, darlin'. You bought it for both of us. :-)

Hope everyone had Presidents' Day off!

Tonight's scene...

... was very personal. ST did not stop to take pictures during it. His focus was singular -- taking care of me.

We talked beforehand. I thought I was all cried out, but dammit, I wasn't. I guess I never am.

He was concerned, very caring, and asked me what I wanted. I said, "I'll tell you what I don't want. I don't want you to handle me with kid gloves."

"No?"

"No. I won't shatter."

I just wanted to go someplace else for a while. He knew. He took me there.

We did not banter tonight. He did not scold. It wasn't necessary.

Afterward, I couldn't move for a long time. He lay on the carpet next to my chair, let me recover. Eventually, I scooted off the chair onto the carpet next to him and put my head on his chest. And there we stayed. I didn't fix my clothes, I did nothing. Just felt the burn and sting and let my breathing settle back down.

Quite a while later, he got up. I stayed prone on the carpet, and he took a picture then. Of course, I was mostly faded. But I don't get much more relaxed than this.




I'm not sure how I feel about last night's blog. Part of me is rather embarrassed by it. Still, I don't wish to delete it. It was honest.

Thank you for all the supportive comments. Funny how they ran the gamut, with the two polarities ranging from, "Don't do it, you don't need it" to "Go for it." I know cosmetic surgery is a hot button topic, and some people are fiercely against it. Here's my take: I don't like it when it's used as a panacea; when people think it will fix their lives. It won't. I don't like it when it's done to extreme and people are left with freakish frozen masks. I hate the idea of Botox; I just can't wrap my head around shooting poison into my face.

HOWEVER. Life is not easy, and like it or not, looks do matter. If someone has something or another that is fixable, that would make them feel better, more confident, whatever, if it were addressed, then I'm all for fixing it. If they can afford it, if they are safe about it and do their research, if they had their heads screwed on straight beforehand... more power to them, I say.

But I'm cannot condone paying for things I can't afford to pay for. No matter how much I want them. I just can't. So I have to work this out some way, or let it go.

John sent me flowers today. I came home from the gym and found them on my doorstep.

It's now 24 hours since I wrote my last blog. Nothing has changed in those 24 hours; my situation and my feelings are the same. But thanks to the love of two wonderful men and some supportive friends, I'm at peace with unresolved problems. Those damned nattering negative voices have been stifled.

No matter how sad, scared or crazed I get, I don't lose sight of what I have. Even through my tears, I'm aware that I'm lucky in so many ways.

So drowsy. I believe I will sleep well tonight.

No post-shoot drop for me...

New Guy saw to that. :-)

Saturday was so full of excitement and sensory overload, and yesterday, I was pretty much wiped out all day. Today my energy had returned, but I was feeling the inevitable letdown after all that stimulation. Didn't last, though. It was Monday, after all. New Guy night.

We talked for a while about my shoot; what, no OTK? No hand spanking? We can't have that! Whatta guy. Started me out with the longest hand spanking I think he's ever given me. After that, I was a primed canvas for every damn toy in his bag, and I welcomed them all, even that horrid wooden paddle.

Not sure why I was so insatiable tonight, but luckily, so was he.

This was fairly early in the scene. I got a lot redder. But try as he might, he couldn't get the left side to match the right one. I am convinced now -- if I don't get a warmup, I mark. If I do, then it's almost impossible to mark me. But hey, he's welcome to try all he wants. :-)

When he took a brief break in the proceedings to use the restroom, I yanked my panties back up. "Who told you that you could pull those back up?" he asked, coming back in. "I wasn't aware I needed permission; I didn't get the memo," I answered.

"Well, I think somebody should pull them back down," he said. I looked up at him over my shoulder. "What, is your arm broken?"

WHAMMMMMO! "Does it feel broken to you?"

Uh... no.

"You gonna take 'em back down?" he asked. "I was just doing you a favor!" I protested. "I know how much you love pulling them down, so I just wanted you to enjoy the experience one more time!" Well, it was worth a try.

I wish I could remember more of our dialogue, because we were both in fine form tonight, but everything is blurred. Ah... I do recall one time when he swung his quirt at me and completely missed; I heard it hit the bedspread. "I'm over here," I smirked, pointing to myself. WHACK! He found me. How about that.

When he broke out the wooden paddle, he commented, "I don't think you got enough wood this past weekend." Oh, brother. I resisted to urge to quip that I never get enough wood (that would certainly backfire on me) and just yelped, "I did too! And your wood is harder than his wood, if you'll pardon the expression." Well, it is, dammit! I have no idea what V was using, but it was more snappy and stinging, whereas NG's paddle is a little thicker. All wood sucks, but there are degrees of suckiness. NG's paddle is sucktastic.

But finally, after about two Mondays' worth of spanking, it was time for lotion and cuddles. All was right with my world. Can you tell?

He is going on a trip late May/early June, visiting his family. I probably won't see him for two weeks. So... when I get moody again, when life has its usual ups and downs, when I am missing him, please remind me... tonight, I was deliriously happy.

Sweet dreams, New Guy.

So, so glad to see him...

I really missed New Guy last week. I know, it was just one skipped week. But it felt like longer than that, for some reason.

It took a while for us to get started; I was busy yakking at him, bubbling away about my book, the photo shoot I had last Friday, the upcoming Spanking Court shoot, blah blah blah. You know, I could have sworn he put an anonymous comment on my blog last week; whoever it was sounded exactly like him. He insisted he did not. Then I said, "I don't believe you!"

I'm not really sure what possessed me to say that.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

No, I protested, I didn't say that. "Yes, but it's implied," he said. Aaaaaand... we were off and running. Actually, no running was involved, but you know what I mean.

He was of the opinion that I should apologize. I had a difference of opinion. Amazing how convincing he can be, though... I came around to see it his way. I finally gasped out that I was sorry. "Thank you!" he beamed, then added, "that doesn't mean your spanking is over, though."

@#$%&*!!!!!!!!!!!

After Round One, I showed him some of the photos and then we got to talking about dungeon/BDSM parties and some of our experiences there. I told him a couple of my more risqué tales (including that infamous one in which John and I ventured into a swing club for the evening), and he shook his head. "You know, you're a very naughty girl."

Tell me something I don't know, Mr. Obvious. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, and you should get a spanking for it."

Right. He had just finished telling me his own risqué stories. Hypocrite! Hypocrite! Still, hypocrisy or no, I wound up OTK again.

"Are you learning the error of your ways?" he smirked at me after a few minutes.

"No," I retorted, "but at least this time you have a real reason, instead of making shit up like you usually do."

"There you go, calling me a liar again." Uh oh. He did a rather deft maneuver: lifted me off his lap, flipped me over into his arms and stood up, flipped me face down again in midair and plunked me back down over the ottoman.

Such a Neanderthal. I loved it, of course. With one hand fisted in my hair, holding me fast, his other arm went fiercely to work.

And once again... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmpppppphhhhh.

We were so busy this time, we didn't take pictures. Ah well.

It's been a good few days. I think this latest photo shoot is going to yield a cover picture. John and I had a lovely weekend; he was so sweet to me, taking me out for a special dinner Saturday night. I now have two people reading my book: my anonymous new friend, and Danny, who volunteered to do so last night (thank you, sweetie!). So I have the best of both -- one completely objective person who doesn't know me, and one dear friend who knows me well, and both of them excellent writers. And this weekend, yet another video shoot.

Post-shoot drop? Nahhhh. New Guy will be over next Monday to give me a little hair of the dog. :-D

Here is a picture from last Friday. This particular one is not a good fit for the cover, but I like it a lot. It represents how I feel right now... blissfully relaxed, boneless, warm and tingly in my skin. Thank you, NG. ♥

Mmmmmmmmmpppphhhhh...

Sorry. I am not capable of articulating any better at the moment.

Boardwalk what? :-)

The Villain was due to arrive at 11:00 a.m. This morning, I checked email and saw I had a message from him on FetLife. Oh, crap, I thought. He has to cancel. But no... he just said he was running late, but he would try to get here by 11:30. Whew.

Since I am compulsively punctual, I was ready anyway. Good thing, too, because he showed up at 11:05.

He'd been reading my blog and knew my state of mind. He asked me how I was feeling. I answered honestly, saying I felt fine. I was in the moment, and the moment was what I wanted. He noticed my trembling, my tension. Observant.

The spanking was a blur of sensation. It wasn't especially hard, except for some flurries thrown in. But it was thorough, and he kept me guessing. I did not know what he would do next. My legs jerked involuntarily and I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to not think, just feel. He'd brought a small leather slapper and alternated that with his hand.

He brought up the party, commenting how people were on their way to Atlantic City now. I sighed and whined, "Yeah, yeah... everyone is in Atlantic City." To which he leaned down and whispered, "I'm not."

That shut me up. Temporarily.

We talked, on and off, during the scene. He used his voice as a tool, drawing things out, making me wait for the next sentence. He had an answer at the ready, no matter what I threw at him. "So tell me," I said at one point, thinking I was challenging him. "How does it feel to have so much power? How does it feel, knowing that people just have to look at your pictures and think 'I want that'?"

I couldn't see his face, but I could feel the smile. "You tell me," he replied. I didn't see that coming. Nice answer.

Of course, there had to be some sass... I am Miss 7-11 Mouth, after all (open 24 hours). "Just think," he teased, "you could be sitting on a plane going to New Jersey right now, and instead, you're getting a spanking. Would you rather be on a plane to New Jersey?" "No, I wouldn't, and shut up," I snapped. I heard him laugh... oh, gawd. I really need to say these things in my thinking voice, not my speaking voice.

About an hour into it, he commented that I'd stopped shaking, that I seemed to be in a more relaxed place. "Good," I murmured. "Does that mean the warmup is over?"

Oh yeah. The warmup was over.

The last half-hour was silent, save for my moans into the bedspread and the cracking of hand and implement upon flesh. I was out of my head at last.

And then he had to go. I tried to get up and my legs didn't want to hold me; the bones and muscles had dissolved into butter. I had to remove my shoes, because I feared I'd fall on my face.

He asked me if I take naps; I said yes. "This might be a good time to take one," he suggested.

Perhaps. But there was another matter that needed urgent attention, first. (blushing)

Bizarre things, emotions. I've been so tightly wound all week. As I released, I laughed and hollered and then, quite unexpectedly, I started bawling. The good kind, though. I felt the tension shoot from me, riding the waves of pleasure. Crazy. How does one laugh and cry at the same time? The juxtaposition of pain and joy never ceases to amaze me.

I will see him again a week from Saturday, when I shoot for Spanking Court. I still don't know what my crime is. It seems that Cali has something diabolical up her sleeve and won't tell me until it's all in place. I have no clue what it is, but I know that The Villain will be the disciplinarian.

He said it won't matter what the crime is or what the court says. Because once he has me strapped to that bench, it's between him and me. And he is keeping a scorecard on me, all the way until next Saturday. He would not tell me what's on it.

(gulp)

Villain -- your lovely Dana referred to you as a "boy scout" in her recent comment here. I think you just earned another merit badge, darlin'.

Oh... and if you're not sick to death of me yet, Todd and Suzy of American Spanking Society have posted an interview with yours truly. It was a lot of fun to fill out my answers to their questions, as many of them were quite original and individually tailored to me. Thanks for asking me, guys!

All right. I think I'm ready for that nap now...

Thou shalt not laugh at thy top

Or else thine ass is grass.

On FetLife, one of New Guy's friends was teasing him on his wall, scolding him for not saying "thank you" to a compliment, calling him "young man," etc. And he was all "Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am." So of course, I had to give him a bunch of noise about that, didn't I?

Seems he took umbrage at that, saying I was spying on his page and making fun of him. I protested that he follows MY activity, and he said, "It's OK when I do it." Top logic at its finest, folks. Anyway, he deemed that I was lacking in manners, laughing at him. But I couldn't seem to help myself. Even after a very long OTK session.

He did take a break in the middle of it -- but only to send me to the kitchen to fetch the wooden spoon. After I got up, he said, "Those panties stay down and that dress stays up." I yanked the dress back down anyway. "Pull that dress back up or it comes off," he threatened. I pulled it back up.

I'd forgotten how much that @#$%ing spoon hurts. Makes those lovely ovals, too. But that was just the beginning.

Down on all fours on the carpet I went, for his belt and the strap. Had to switch things up, he said. Couldn't have my readers getting bored, could we? Nahhhhh...

I still couldn't stop giggling though. So he moved me to the ottoman, where he could really lay into me. I thought for a brief moment I was finally settling down... then "We Are The Champions" came on. When Freddie Mercury sang, "No time for losers..." I started cracking up again. But I didn't want to tell NG what I was laughing at.

He managed to coax it out of me, however. So I told him that when I heard that "no time for losers" line, I'd wanted to say, "Yeah! So go home!"

"Oh, I'm a loser now, huh?" The strap suddenly got much faster and much heavier. OK, I asked for that.

"I think you need 15 more good ones with this -- you're going to count them and say after each one: 'You are a winner!' " (groan)

We managed to get up to eight when he started critiquing the enthusiasm of my delivery. Wanted more sincerity, he said. Arrggh. He liked my tone after the count of nine, but after ten, he started up with that "Nope, I'm not hearing the enthusiasm" sh*t again.

So after stroke eleven, I hollered with all the energy I could muster: "Eleven -- you are a wiener!!"

He started over at number one. OK, I guess I asked for that too.

But finally, he prevailed, I stopped my giggling and mouthing off. "It really isn't wise to say stuff like that when someone is spanking you," he reminded me.

Guess I'm not all that wise. A wise-ass, maybe.

Hey! Aren't my VS Cheekies cute?

Of course, they didn't stay up long.

Geeeez... why do I bother wearing nice panties for this guy...

Think I was done laughing? Think again. Just before he left, he accidentally knocked a glass of water over, and I went to get some paper towels. I mopped up until a wad of them was saturated... and as he bent over his toy bag putting things away, I stuffed the wet towels down the back of his shirt. :-D

It was cute to watch him dance. He made me dance after that, but it was so worth it.

He won't be able to make it next Monday, unfortunately. Already I feel a little melancholy, thinking how I'll miss him next week. Damn, am I spoiled, or what?

Thanks for another great night, sweetie... and for being such a good sport. You know I think you're the bestest. ♥

Be careful what you wish for

Some of you may recall a blog I wrote early February; you can refresh your memory here. Scroll down past the initial text and look at the pictures. Remember him?

He was in my apartment spanking me this afternoon.

After I wrote that blog, I got the occasional teasing message from him on FetLife, hinting around about playing, but never coming right out and suggesting we do so. As you know, I don't have an abundance of patience. So I messaged him back, saying, "So, are you going to tease me indefinitely? Yes, I know I'm a pushy vixen."

Pushy, yes. But it worked.

Not right away. He's a busy man, he was traveling, he was shooting. For a while, I thought perhaps I'd been blown off, but I waited. I was rewarded by his writing and saying he appreciated my patience. (Patience? what patience??) And suggested a date and time.

OK, here's where I know I'm going to get scolded by some of you. And I suppose I deserve it. But I observed absolutely NO protocols this time. I did not meet him for coffee beforehand. I got a first name only, no phone, no email (we kept our messaging to FetLife). I gave him my home address. Why? Because on a gut level, I felt safe. My instincts told me that, despite his menacing image (he does call himself The Villain on Fet, after all), he was safe and sane. He is in the public eye, he does videos, he has a beautiful girlfriend. He's certainly not going to mess with that.

Today, I found a message from him in my Fet inbox when I got up and logged on. My first thought was, "Oh noooo, he's cancelling." I opened the message and read:

"I will have my hands on you in roughly five hours."

I thought I was having a heart attack. I swear, if you'd looked at my chest just then, you probably could have seen my heart banging away, like in the cartoons.

He showed up right on time; always a good thing. I brought him inside from the lobby, and once the door was closed behind us, he took off his jacket. But instead of throwing it over a chair, he handed it to me. "Would you mind?"

I walked to my hall closet and reached for a hanger. Mr. Villain came up behind me and gently but firmly grabbed the back of my neck. "I do believe this is a case of 'be careful what you wish for,'" he whispered.

Hmmm... where had I heard that before? Oh yeah. Here.

"I get the feeling you're not going to run away," he said. I shook my head. My two hands were frozen in mid-air, holding his jacket and the hanger.

"Go on... hang it up." I did. He turned me around, headed me toward my bedroom. "You're not going to scream, are you?"

"No."

"Good girl. Come here." He sat on my bed and laid me across his lap.

"So, I've been reading all about you."

"Really?"

"Well, there's just so much to see. You're everywhere."

I grinned into my bedspread. "So what have you learned?"

"For one thing, you're a very good writer. And for another, you're quite the impertinent little brat."

OK, so he's observant.

His hands were strong, wonderfully smacky and non-thuddy. There was no initial awkwardness; it was like he knew exactly what to do, just like in the stories. Then again, if he'd been reading what I write, I suppose he had some idea of what goes on inside my head.

He was verbal. He did not scold; rather, he crooned. That's the best word I can think of. He switched up his spanking techniques a great deal, did some things I found unique, like vigorously slapping with both hands, alternating. Now, you guys know I HATE the wrong-hand crossover thing. But this wasn't it -- it was like he was playing bongos on my butt, very rapidly. He'd start softly and build and build and build steadily in intensity. And just I was reaching a point where my brain screamed and my body thrashed, he'd stop. Soothe a bit. Start again.

I had to get him a paddle. I chose a plain hairbrush-style one I have; I did not give him the paddle New Guy made for me. That is his and his alone. I was a little apprehensive -- putting wood in the hands of a stranger can be a disaster. But I somehow knew it wouldn't be.

He didn't use it super hard. Just hard enough to make me squirm, to make me feel tender. And then he tossed it on the carpet and went back to his hand.

Oh good, I thought. So much for that. But a few minutes later...

"Hand me the paddle."

Mischievously, I looked at him over my shoulder. "You didn't say please."

As I thought he might, he smiled. "Please."

I picked it up and handed it to him, and then he gave me a staccato flurry of swats with it, chanting, "Please, please, please, please, please..." with each one.

Freaking overachiever. Once would have been fine!

"I think the pushy vixen should get exactly what she wants and needs." Damn. He remembered I'd said that. I really need to watch what I say. (Yeah, that'll happen.)

Our scene lasted about an hour and ten minutes. When we'd begun, my apartment was on the chilly side, as I hadn't run any heat and it's a cold rainy day. By the time we were done, both my A/C and bedroom fan were on and he was shirtless.

But a perfect gentleman. He didn't even take down my panties.

I mentioned how I'd love to do a Spanking Court video, since he's done those. He said he thought I'd be perfect for one and that he'd put in a good word for me with the woman who runs the production.

"But," he added, "you'll have to take one heck of a spanking."

"As opposed to what I just took now??"

"That," he murmured, leaning down to me, "was an introduction."

Holy crap.

I've mentioned before how spacy I am post-scene. Never has that been more evident than today. When I went to retrieve his jacket, I stood at the closet door and stared stupidly at the line of coats. I could not find his. Seriously. It was black, and I have several black jackets myself. All I saw was a sea of black. I had to call him over and tell him to find it himself. He found that very amusing.

Sorry, I have no pictures of today's activities. But here's another photo of The Villain, at his dangerous best:

(Not sure why it's blurry, but you get the idea.)

I really am insatiable, it seems. It took me two full days to recover from NG's spanking this time, and now I'm all tenderized anew. Oh, gawd... I am going to get such a hard time from John over this... :-)

Oblivion

They are replacing the carpet in the apartment above me.

For the past 2 1/2 hours, there has been loud hammering, thudding and banging, so hard that it rattles my windows and echoes throughout my rooms. It sounds at times like the ceiling is going to cave in on me.

Any other day, I would be climbing the walls. I hate loud noises. I detest intrusions from the outside world into my peaceful abode. I'd be edgy, nervous, and angry.

But today is Tuesday. Today, I passively listen to it, let it roll off me, think "This too shall pass." The pleasant sting and burn in my hindquarters and the slow, syrupy flow of my blood keeps me in a calmer, accepting place.

Shortly, I will go out and run errands. When I come back, it will be blissfully quiet once again.

Forgot to mention this from last night: Throughout our session, NG kept asking me if this was doing me any good. Stubbornly, I refused to give him the answer he wanted.

But when it was over, when I could finally speak again, I looked into his face and said, "Yes." To his puzzled look, I added, "Yes, you do me lots and LOTS of good."

And see, it's lasting, too. :-)

The Stranger

When my doorbell rang at 6:30, I opened it eagerly, expecting to see New Guy standing there smiling back, ready to give me a warm hug after three weeks of not seeing each other.

But the man at my door didn't smile, only stepped in silently, Feeling a bit thrown, I started to wrap my arms around his neck, and he shrugged them off. Then I felt his fist tightening in my hair.

He spun me around, pushing me toward my bedroom. I nearly stumbled on my high heels. Wordlessly, he threw me onto my bed, then flipped me over, pinning both arms behind my back. He rummaged in his bag and next thing I knew, he was tying my hands together. Once that was done, he leaned down and spoke. "Did you really think you could write something like that in your blog and no one would get ideas?"

"Ah... um... I...." I stuttered, and he yanked my hair. "Did you?"

"No..." I murmured. I thought perhaps I could reason with him. "I couldn't help it," I cried. "Those pictures... I don't know, they just did something to me."

"Yeah, well," he said, "now I'M going to do something to you." My legs were bent, my feet tightly curled up under my bottom; he pulled my legs straight, and unceremoniously yanked my leggings and panties down my thighs and off. Then he tied my ankles together.

"Now," he growled, "you are going to get exactly what you deserve."

The spanking was hard and fast and ferocious -- no warmup here. I squirmed around, but I could barely move, and the ropes bit into my wrists if I pulled too hard.

"Are you scared?"

"Ye-e-e-s...."

"You should be. Maybe you'll be more careful about what you put on your blog, won't you? Be careful what you wish for." Then he jerked the rope off my wrists. But before I could sigh in relief, he pulled my hands forward, wrapped the rope securely around my wrists once again and tied the ends to the bedframe just above the caster. He then did the same thing with my ankles, tying them down at the other end.

And then the implements came out of the bag. He brushed them against me, teasing me, tormenting me. I was on sensory overload... yes, it was scary. It was also wildly, almost unbearably arousing.

"Please," I whimpered, "please..."

"Please what?" he asked. When I didn't answer, he snapped the strap down hard once, twice, three times quickly. "Please what? he repeated.

"Please.... don't hurt me," I whispered. My usual bravado and brattiness had completely disappeared. He was someone I didn't know, and yet I did. And I was someone I didn't know, as well.

He leaned down to me once again, his mouth to my ear. "But I want to hurt you," he hissed. I moaned and steeled myself.

Strap, belt, paddle, another strap... it went on and on. He said little, and I buried my face in the comforter, trying to stifle my yelps. I started crying early on, not necessarily from the pain, but from the surges of emotion. But I couldn't wipe my nose or push my hair out of my face. I was helpless, at his mercy.

After a while, he paused and spoke again. "I like hurting you," he drawled, his voice silky. "And you like it too. Don't you!"

God help me, I did. I loved it. I nodded vigorously, even as I cried. And then he finished me off with ten rapid, heavy paddle strokes. I had to count them.

It was over. He untied me, then sat on the bed next to me, gathering me close. Suddenly, he was New Guy again... sweet, gentle and soothing. He smiled into my face, the menacing look gone. I wept and trembled and clung to him. And through it all, I kept mumbling, "Oh God. Oh my God. Wow... Wow... That was... oh my god, that was sooooo @#$%ing hot..." He laughed. Said he was glad I'd liked it, because he sure did too.

I have been tied up before. But I'd never experienced it like this, as part of a roleplay scene, sprung on me so unexpectedly. It was different. It was rougher than I usually play. But I could do it with him. I could go there. I trusted him. I knew I was safe, so I could fully immerse myself in the fantasy.

And don't anyone worry about me. Don't anyone think any of this was too harsh, because I wanted it. Does this look like an abused woman to you?

Didn't think so. :-)  I even recovered enough to sass him. Paid for it, of course.

Thank you, my friend, my evil stranger.

Will it last?

Next Monday, I will be in Connecticut. Therefore, I won't be able to see New Guy. He was very concerned about this; wanted to make sure I would be well-behaved for the next two weeks, especially on my trip. So tonight, he came over at 5:00 instead of 6:30, since he'd had the day off. Had to get an early start on two weeks' worth of discipline, you see.

First, he was annoyed with me when I said I wouldn't have room in my suitcases for warm, bulky clothes, what with all the outfits I have to pack. "I'm going to be indoors, for heaven's sake," I argued.

"You don't know that," he countered. "Maybe there will be outdoor shoots. Maybe he'll have you out in the snow, making snow angels. Only in your case, they'll be snow devils." Oh, har har har. He said he'd been out naked in the snow before, after a sauna. I told him he was insane. Not the best thing to say to him, apparently. I had to apologize. Repeatedly.

"I care about you and I don't want you to be cold!" (sigh) All right, all right. I'll bring warm socks, PJs, gloves and a cap, and I'll wear my heaviest coat on the plane. OK? OK.

That was one spanking.

Since neither of us had eaten, we decided to go to a nearby deli for dinner. But not before he spanked me again to ensure I'd behave myself in the restaurant. I had to repeat several times, to strap strokes: "I will behave myself at Jerry's Deli." Well, actually, we compromised. I said that I would TRY to behave.

Of course, I didn't. He took so freaking long deciding what he was going to order, I stretched out on the booth, put my legs up, leaned against him and said I was taking a nap.

I know he was dying to let me have on the way back to the car, in the parking lot. But there were too many people around, unfortunately, so he settled for quickly bending me over the trunk and giving me three swats over my dress. I drove us back to my place, and I'd barely gotten inside and put my purse down when I was looking at the carpet again. The umbrage -- after I treated him to dinner!!

We watched a clip on my computer, the one I did for Spanking Epics a few years ago with Keith Jones and Sierra Salem, where he plays my husband and spanks Sierra and me for gossiping. When it ended...guess what? Yeah, that's right.

"That was wrong of you to gossip!" he said, putting me back over the ottoman.

"Excuse me??" I howled. "That was shot five years ago. And it was fiction! You're spanking me for fiction!"

"Maybe, but this spanking isn't fiction!" Arrrggh. No, it certainly wasn't.

How many are we up to now?

He just wouldn't put that @#$%ing paddle away. I asked him how he expected to keep his hand strong if he kept relying on the paddle.

"I don't need to keep my hand strong if I have the paddle," he smirked. "I can let the paddle do all the talking."

"Yeah, it's probably more articulate than you are," I muttered.

And that was another one. Yeah, yeah, I know. I asked for it. I still laughed through all my screeching and protesting.

But all Monday evenings must end, and reluctantly, I sent him on his way at 9:00 so he could go home and walk his dog.

Will it tide me over for two weeks? Nahhhhhh. But it certainly was a valiant effort. :-)

(smooch) See you in two weeks, sweetie.

First spanking of the year!

Actually, he called and said he couldn't make it; he had to work late.



KIDDING!!! 


Sorry, couldn't resist. My bad. :-D

I was in the mood to be pushed. Not sure why, because I wasn't stressed out or anything. I didn't feel the need for an emotional release, for tears. But I wanted intensity. I wanted a challenge. I wanted... strict.

We started out OTK, as we usually do. He seemed to pick up on my need and his hand was fairly heavy from the start. But of course, I had to push. So when he said, "I don't want any of your smart remarks," I snapped back, "OK, I'll take a page from your book and make stupid remarks instead."

Hair grab. "What did you say?" A little nervous but still nervy, I squeaked, "Was I not speaking English?"

Not quite sure how I went from OTK in the dining room to on my feet and bent over the recliner in the living room; it happened in a split second. I didn't even have time to move the damn gym bag.

To quote my blogging buddy, I'm barely pink here. Not to worry. Once he got me situated over the ottoman, he hunkered down and really let me have it. But not with the wooden paddle! How about that? Nope, it was an all-leather night. Plenty hard, though.

Midway through, he commented about how Zelle had said he should use lotion on me. Of course, she meant to soothe me during aftercare! But he chose to take something lovely and comforting and create evil from it. "I'll bet if I used some now and then started again, it would hurt more, huh?" "How the hell should I know?" "Let's find out. Go get some."

I was already screwed, so I wisely resisted the urge to say, "Get it yourself." I fetched the bottle of lotion from my bathroom and gave it to him, and he rubbed in a generous amount. That felt wonderful... for about two minutes. And then it was back to the heavy straps and his belt. And yes, it hurt more. Aggggggghhhhhh.

Oh, he was so proud of himself and his little discovery. He couldn't stop crowing about it. When he gleefully said, "And my hands are going to be so nice and soft!", I'd had it. "It'll match your head," I muttered.

Everything after that is a blur....

Well, I'd asked for it.

But he did use the lotion for goodness instead of rottenness afterward. :-) Aftercare was very soothing and sweet. For a while. Then I shot my mouth off again as soon as I'd come back down a bit.

(sigh)  I never learn.

He pinned me to the carpet with my hands behind my back and his legs trapping my own. I could not move... and he let me know quite persuasively that it's not a good idea to recover and revert to smart-assed-ism right away. No, not a good idea at all.

But damn, was it ever hot.

Thus begins a sizzling new year. Oww. And yummmmmmmmm. ;-)


Big ol' meanie....



Monday by the hours



Every Monday afternoon, just about this time, it hits me... I'm getting spanked in 3 1/2 hours. The home-stretch anticipation kicks in, along with the butterflies, the rapid heartbeat, the heightened color in my face.

I need to start getting ready. I shower, blow out my hair, dress. I choose something different each week, so he'll have no idea what I'm going to wear. What color will it be? What style panties? Dress up or dress down?

Time plays tricks on these afternoons. Sometimes it flies at warp speed, and other times it drags on and on until I feel like I might jump out of my skin. But before I know it...

Ack! Getting closer!

I put on my makeup, trying to control the slight tremor in my hands so I won't put out an eye with my mascara wand or swipe lipstick across my chin. Is my place tidy? Gather up the newspapers, throw the clothes in the hamper, straighten up the bathroom. Oh. Yeah. It's nearly 5:30 and I haven't eaten anything since 10 A.M. Make a light snack.

Fool around online for a while to distract myself. Brush my teeth. Make the bed. Kill a few minutes, then another few, and then I look up...



... and the butterflies multiply until they threaten to burst out of my chest. In five minutes, my phone will ring. I won't have to check caller ID; I'll know it's him, waiting for me at the outdoor intercom to buzz him in. He's never late. I let him in, and seconds later, my doorbell rings.

I don't know exactly how the evening will play out, as he keeps me guessing, changes it up a little each week. I will challenge him, and he will meet my challenge vigorously. Perhaps I'll cry, or perhaps I will giggle with sheer delight through the entire session. I'll be OTK for sure, but who knows...

...I might end up in the damndest positions as well.

I know this for sure, however. After the spanking is over, I will snuggle up against him and he will be gentle and soothing with me. We'll talk, after a while of companionable silence. Maybe (OK, probably) I'll get spanked again, since I can't seem to stop sassing for more than about a half-hour. And then...

By now, he's gone. Another Monday has passed. I'm sore, stinging and sitting gingerly. And I am serene, happy, all my rough edges gone buttery soft. The butterflies are sleeping peacefully, dormant until it's time for them to come alive again...

Next Monday.

New Guy's Theme

(Sung to the tune of Eric Clapton's "Layla")

In case anyone doesn't know this classic, here ya go:



What'll you do when I've been naughty,
And I'm waiting by your side
I've been sassing, and bratting much too long,
Now you're gonna tan my hide!

Newww Guy
You got me o'er your knees
New Guy
Your hand, it stings like bees
New Guyyyyyy
Darlin' won't you ease up on me pleeeeeeaase?

"Won't be givin' you consolation,"
You tried to warn me, with a frown
Like a fool, I made a fool of you,
Now you've turned me upside down!

Newww Guy
That hairbrush makes me burn,
New Guy
Will I ever learn?
New Guyyyyyyy,
Do you really have to be so stern?

You got control of the situation,
As I writhe around in pain,
Then your belt, imparts another welt,
My tears are fallin' just like rain!

Newwwww Guy
I'm lyin' on the bed
New Guy
My bottom's crimson red
New Guyyyyyyy
Oh my god, the paddle's still ahead...!

Newwwwwww Guy
Now the spanking's done
New Guy
I have to say "you won"
New Guyyyyyyyy
Finally sent the bad girl on the run!*

*well, until next week, anyway. ;-)

Despite those daggers I'm glaring, I had another spectacular Monday night. But you guys already knew that. :-)

I know this will sound sick, but...

... I love Mondays. :-)

Mind you, I haven't always. Used to groan at the thought of them, like everyone else, until just recently. Ever since I met New Guy and Monday became SpankDay. Now I feel like I have a three-day weekend every week.

We don't even bother with the small talk upon his arrival anymore. He's not in the door five minutes and I'm over his knee. Not that I'm complaining. I never was much for small talk anyway. How was your weekend? Fine. Nice haircut. Thanks. OK, that's enough of that. Spank now, talk later.

And spank he did.

On the couch.

Over the ottoman.

And then later, long after we'd wound down, he got some bug up his butt about something or another and we had an impromptu Round #2 over the dining room table with his belt. Pardon the clutter...

Enough locations, don't you think? Nah. He had to put me in the @#$%ing corner, too!

OK, so maybe, just maybe, I deserved a little of this. Some things have the damndest ways of slipping out at times. He was going on and on and ON with that belt of his, with a very long CCR song playing in the background. (One doesn't usually hear the extended version of "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" on the radio. It goes on about seven or eight minutes, I think.) Anyway, I complained, "Aren't you done yet?" and he replied, "Nope, this is the long version." Har har. I shrugged and said, "Well, at least there's something about you that's long."

That might not have been the most intelligent utterance on my part. Who knew. I think I screeched "I'm sorry" about six times in about as many seconds.

But I still giggled. I can't help it. I'm insatiable.

He said I never learn. I pointed out that if one doesn't learn, it's usually the teacher's fault. Funny, he took exception to that. But I do believe he'll keep trying to impart some sort of lessons to me. And trying. And trying.

I sure hope so. :-)

Ow...

Who named it the "sweet spot," anyway? There's nothing @#$%ing sweet about it. Not feeling very sweet at this moment, lemme tell you.

I don't know what he was so tweaked about. OK, so I didn't get all dressed up for him this time. It was cold and I wanted to dress a little more warmly. But I thought what I had on was rather cute and cheery. It was a sweatshirt, but such a pretty color! And don't you think the design on the front is darling?

Check out that post-spanking hair; what a mess! LOL

See, he's saying "Don't Wanna" -- isn't that precious? I thought it was most inappropriate that I had to remove it. (sulk) I swear, there's no pleasing that man. And to have to assume this undignified pose, to boot. Most unflattering too. Look at it now, 'cause you'll never see it again!


Why does it feel like he ramps it up every single week? I don't know how he does it. When he commented on my sassiness for perhaps the umpteenth time, I said in what I thought was a beseeching tone: "But that's what you like about me!" He laughed. Briefly. Then replied, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean I'm not going to give you a good spanking for it. Because that's what you like about me. Isn't it!"

Yes, dammit...

I wanted it to burn and sting. I wanted that sweet release. And finally, I got it.

Guess what? Remember that three-pack of spoons he brought a few weeks ago -- I'd broken two of them, but the third one held up? Well, now that sucker is toast too, three for three.


He hung out for about an hour and a half afterward, and of course, couldn't leave without Round Two on the couch. After that, I was so blissed out, I just wanted to stay across his lap, snuggle into him and go to sleep. But alas, I had to let him up; his dog was waiting for him at home, after all.

Mmmmmm... of course, since it's the freaking holidays, I'm going to need this therapy on a regular basis. Yeah, yeah, shut up, Erica... you need it on a regular basis year-round, you insatiable wench. :-)

Fortunately, it seems he's rather insatiable himself...