Wednesday, December 28, 2005


The last couple of days my pain level has dropped to more manageable levels. So, I've been poking A. to spank me. Literally. It's my subtle way of bratting for it.

Last night he half joked as we waited for an old friend of mine to stop by for a visit that he was going to spank me before she came so I'd have a sore bottom while we visited. I think both of us got a little busy in the meantime before that phone call from her requesting that I buzz her in. After visiting for a couple of hours, she left and A. and I decided we could go for a bit of tuna fish. As it was midnight or so, I went to the bathroom afterwards to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. And came out with my hair in pigtails.

You know, just to remind him that he forgot something earlier.

"Oh oh oh! Pigtails," A. exclaimed as he sprawled out on the bed flipping among late night shows. I grinned and climbed up to join him. As we cuddled and wandered from Leno to Letterman to Kimmel, he caressed my flannel-clad bottom.

Gawd I love it when he does that.

Though I admit I was getting a bit impatient. So, I started poking. Which he ignored. But the caressing was nice. Smooth circular motions outlining my ample backside and crack. The other hand sometimes caressing my hair. Playing with my pigtails.

As he watched the opening monologue of Craig Ferguson, it was all I could do to keep from screaming "would you just fucking spank me already!" while he chuckled and made comments about Ferguson not being quite as bad as he originally reckoned. Finally, the monologue was over, and A. flipped off the telly.

"Alright. Over my knee."

That wonderful place I've missed for almost four months -- including twenty days of him being here.

We scooted around and I assumed my position and he tugged down my jimjam bottoms as I lifted my hips slightly. There were some soft smacks and then the harder ones.

Good gawd is my pain threshold shit.

I mean, I'd already taken my bedtime narcotics and those smacks still stung like crazy. Had me kicking and squirming and whimpering and clenching my teeth. And it was only his hand.

Of course, there was lots of rubbing in between. And alternating of hard and soft smacks. There was a little bladder pain, and it probably would have been more comfortable had I put a pillow on his lap, but I couldn't be bothered to interrupt play with anything illness-related. Eventually he motioned for me to get up.

"I'm going out to smoke, and I want you to lay on the bed and wait for me to give you the cane."

The endorphines had finally kicked in so I wasn't nearly as afraid as I might have been otherwise. It was even hard to put myself in that naughty, scary frame of mind as I lay there with my flannel pj bottoms at mid thigh while my bare, pink ass awaited further punishment.

"Right. I'm going to give you eight strokes," A. said as he picked up the cane upon his return. "Count them please."

"Yes, Sir." I scrunched my eyes shut waiting for hot, horrible pain. It was hot, but not necessarily horrible. Indeed, the eighth stroke came rather quickly. We cuddled for a bit after that until he told me it was bedtime. "But, I don't wanna go to bed."

"Excuse me?" With feigned, stern shock. "I haven't put the cane away yet."

Normally this would solicit instant compliance. But, you know, those eight strokes were so quick. And not as hard as I expected.

"I don't want to go to bed." With my mischievous grin. He calmly stood up and picked the cane up off the chair.

"Well, that'll teach me for being too light on you," A. said with a smile. "Right. Eight more. Count them please."

And that time they sure did hurt alright.

Though, I think if it hadn't been 1:30 am and might have waken the neighbors, I probably would have begged for the strap.

But, I obeyed this time. Got up and turned out the lights, though not before admiring my marks in the mirror. Then snuggled under the covers on a stingy bottom, still hungry for more but grateful for this little window of opportunity.

Yep, the urologist's office called about an hour or so ago and said my cystoscopy will be next Tuesday. Then the UTI pain starts all over again.


Upadate: A. could read my mind even if he hadn't yet read this post. The next afternoon, as the cane was still resting on the chair, A. couldn't resist the urge to pick it up as I walked through the room. He gave me a few on my breasts and a few more over my pj bottoms. Then got out the strap. ::big grin:: Except I wasn't grinning once he started whacking me. Damn that thing hurts over a sorely caned bottom! Then he took me over his knee again and almost had me crying with a really hard handspanking. Almost.

It was very cool. ;)

"Gotta take advantage of my windows," he said as we cuddled afterwards. Must have read this post, I thought. Nope. Hadn't had a chance yet. "But now I'm really curious."

Alas, the window closed by that night as a new medicine took affect and my back and pelvis started hurting from a yeast infection. Fingers-crossed my UA will still be UTI free today. Not sure how it will affect the schedule for the cystoscopy on Tuesday if I do have one.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

To all those morons in IRC chat rooms

Okay, if you can't spell or use apostrophes correctly, you can't spank me.

Monday, December 26, 2005

A little Boxing Day spanko reading

Hope you have all had a nice Christmas/Kwaanza/Hanukkah. Mine was busy with baking and making presents, so Boxing Day has been a day to sleep. Seriously. Didn't get up until 4pm.

My last post reminded me of a story by one of my all-time favorite spanko writers, John Benson. He writes wonderfully complex stories about the variety of emotions that intersect in those attracted to spanking or being spanked. He even makes me enjoy fantasy and science fiction. "The Wicked Witch" is about Carla, an Empath who helps a naughty boy, Jimmy, appreciate that he has a choice about who he lets spank him. Once he gets rid of the Wicked Witch who has been spanking him, he pleads with Carla to spank him. She hesitates because as an Empath, she can feel every stroke.
She struck him and a white hot line of pain was on her buttocks as well as his. She felt the way this was true punishment for him, true acceptance of his guilt. And she felt the way in which it was not punishment at all, but scratching of a psychic itch as primal and compelling as the urge to fuck could ever be. And so she was able to strike again. And again. And cry out with him in a shared symphony of pain and strike again, until they both could take no more.

I've always loved that description of spanking being a "psychic itch." And, well, that's what makes John Benson such a great writer.

Another article I might point your attention to is one mentioned on the soc.sexuality.spanking newsgroup in the New Yorker about C.S. Lewis. It's actually a fascinating, exquisite article about him on a number of levels, but there was also a paragraph about his spankophila.

This loving and mother-deprived boy was sent to a series of nightmarish English boarding schools, where he was beaten and bullied and traumatized beyond even the normal expectations of English adolescence. Lewis’s own words about the places are practically Leninist. (One headmaster raced down the length of a room with his cane to beat a lower-middle-class boy, enraged by his social pretensions.) Lewis writes about his last school, Malvern, at such length, and with such horror—with far more intensity than he writes even about serving on the Western Front—that it’s clear that the trauma, coming at a time of sexual awakening, was deep and lasting. It seems to have had the usual result: Lewis developed and craved what even his Christian biographer, Jacobs, calls “mildly sadomasochistic fantasies”; in letters to a (homosexual) friend, he named the women he’d like to spank, and for a time signed his private letters “Philomastix”—“whip-lover.”

A bright and sensitive British boy turned by public-school sadism into a warped, morbid, stammering sexual pervert. It sounds like the usual story...

I never knew Lewis was a spanko. I think what was so fascinating in this article was understanding Lewis' internal life and seeing the tension that existed between that and his rigid Christianity. Not that such a tension is necessary. But it was interesting to see how it played out for him. I live so much of my life, particularly that in relation to spanking, within my inner world and have struggled with that tension between what I've thought God demanded and that which makes me feel real joy. Seeing the tragedy of how Lewis was unable to truly reconcile the two has made me think about the importance of averting such a tragedy in my own life.

At any rate, hope your holidays have been a blessing in whatever way you celebrate them.

Monday, December 19, 2005

That unscratched itch

What type of spanking do you crave?

brought to you by Quizilla

(via Poiesia)

Honestly? I have no idea what kind of spanking I crave. Yeah, role play might be fun. A "just because" spanking might be nice too. Emotionally, I could probably go for a punishment spanking. But, everything between my waist and the middle of my ass still aches so when I think about the logistics of getting spanked, it leaves me feeling very, very ambilivilent.

I hate it.

Gosh, I started tearing up when I typed that last sentence. It's like I'm having to supress this whole part of me. A really important part of me. And it just aches.

I suggested to A. the other night as we drifted off to sleep that perhaps implements that are stingy and don't push my butt into my bladder might work. Or maybe we could try my hands or my breasts or (gulp) my thighs. Or try non-physical punishments.

A.'s missed using his cane. So, last night as it was Sunday night, he decided we should chat a bit about the upcoming week. And since canes are more stingy and don't necessarily push the buttocks in so much, we decided to try it.

I told him to make sure and aim low. He agreed. We tried piling the pillows up like we usually do, but that was really uncomfortable so I got rid of them and just put a flat pillow down under my chest like I do at night to sleep or at acupuncture. He took down my pajama bottoms and gave me a few light strokes, though I felt so incapable of processing them. He sat down next to me and talked about me getting back into routine and I agreed. He gave me a few more strokes that were still fairly light but felt dreadful. Particularly the one that hit my thigh. When I whined about it, he reminded me that I told him to aim low.

Sigh. I had.

We cuddled after that, which was nice. But, you know, the spanking hadn't really been enough to have that sort of catharsis. Not that all spankings do that. Some are just short and sweet and perfectly fine that way. But I need the long spanking. My inner brat needs it. My sulky, pouty inner bitch needs it.

It's like needing an itch scratched and not being able to scratch it.

Sunday, December 18, 2005

Have you Wikied spanking before?

My boyfriend did the other night and you might be interested to know that Wikipedia has a fairly lengthy entry on spanking including a discussion of procedures and positions. There is also a separate entry on erotic spanking to specifically explain us perverts.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005


Remember when I said this a little over a month ago?

All I have to say is that if I start feeling too sick again to play when he gets here in 28 days, I'm going to be super pissed.

And of course, as Murphy's/sod's law would have it, I am too sick now that A. is here. The doctor called me on Monday to say that my urine culture showed that I'm actually infected with TWO bacteria requiring two separate antibiotics because each is resistant to the other's antibiotic.

So, I'm hurting and groggy and really, really annoyed at the moment. My brain totally wants to play but my body sooooo does not.

Stupid urinary tract infections and accompanying back and pelvic pain.

That urologist so better figure out what's wrong and take care of it very, very soon. No more Miss Compliant Patient here. Next Friday when I'm in his office it's going to be "quit dicking around and get that damn cystoscope in my bladder so we can see what the hell is happening in there!"

Hmm...not sure if that came out quite the way I intended. But, I'm on a lot of drugs right now (A. is trying to be the medicine nazi so that I remember to take it all) so I figure I've got a good excuse if stuff doesn't come out right.

Friday, December 09, 2005

The best birthday present of all

Yep. A. got in Wednesday night -- just in time to give me my birthday spanking yesterday. At the end of a quiet day with a lovely dinner and lovely, er...loving (let's just say it involved a spreader bar and ginger root), there were 33 solid handspanks before I drifted off to sleep.

::happy sigh::

Alas, there probably won't be too many spankings for a bit though. My UA today showed that I've got another UTI, which explains the back pain and extra fatigue this week. So, two weeks more on antibiotics, and then it'll be time for a cystoscopy and a biopsy.

::apprehensive sigh::

At least A. will be here to go to the hospital with me and look after me once I'm home.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Curious about control

I've been thinking a lot lately about the idea of control and spanking. People often talk about the loss of control they feel when they are spanked and the appeal of that loss of control. However, I've never really had that loss of control. I always know the spanking is something I agreed to. Maybe not that specific one, but in general I agreed to do or not do whatever and the consequences for doing or not doing whatever. That I can stop it at any moment, but chose not to even though it hurts a ton.

I suppose it's something I'm more curious about than anything. The only times I've ever felt a real loss of control, it's been the few times A. and I have played "Master and slave" and then it's been a horrible feeling, despite being very aroused when we talk about it doing it. Like what I used to feel with my stepfather. So, we're going to change some of the ways we play so I don't end up in that headspace.

But I guess I wonder about it in terms of that feeling of being little -- that Natty part of me -- that I really do like. Do I reach that little feeling better when I'm not in control like an adult? If so, then I how do I do that?

I suppose I always approach spanking as an adult, even though the appeal of it has to do with feeling like a child. Of being able to be this childlike part of me that rarely gets to come out. Yet, I need to approach it as an adult in order to protect that childlike part of me.

Plus, well, there's a lot about being an adult that I like. I remember a few years ago I was standing on a curb next to a mother and her child waiting to cross the street. The mother told her child that they couldn't cross the street because the big orange hand was up. I looked to my right and left and noticing that there wasn't a car coming, went ahead and crossed the street. "Mommy, why is she crossing the street?" the kid asked. I chuckled to myself and thought, because I'm a grown-up and I can.

Or the other night when I was in a chat room with a friend while I was watching "South Park." She happens to think it's um...well, not the most edifying show and as she switches, suggested maybe "mother" should come in and make me stop or else. I laughed and said "oh, I'd just leave then."

Yeah, I don't really like someone controlling my viewing habits either.

I dunno. I suppose having been a parent of sorts, I don't believe parenting is about controlling children, but about providing a safe environment that allows them grow as human beings. For my stepfather, it was all about control. And I suppose when it comes to being that child-like part of me, the adult part of me doesn't really want her to be controlled but to grow as a human being.

Though, I suppose there is also the appeal of an all-wise parental figure, sorta like the tradition of the spiritual father/mother we have in the Eastern Orthodox/Byzantine Church telling me what to do and following him or her regardless. But then, they don't really make good partners for, um, other things...

I do think there's still an element of the adult-me taking over during a spanking when I really need to let that Natty part of me be the one getting spanked. I guess you could say that in subtle ways I can be a real control freak.

Hence my utter wonder at the whole "losing control" thing.