Monday, August 31, 2009

Why does Natty need a spanking?

The Wooden Anniversary contest ends tonight at 11:59 pm Pacific Savings Time (give or take a few minutes). I've been getting a trickle of entries, but suspect many of you are like me and procrastinate (Natty has definitely been spanked more than once for that, lemme tell ya!). So here's your friendly reminder. Put yer thinkin' caps on and submit a clever reason to convince A. that Natty needs a spanking (ha! like he needs a reason...). Multiple submissions are totally cool.

I might even throw in some of my famous chocolate chip cookies as a prize now that I've figured out how to ship them so they stay fresh...

Friday, August 28, 2009

The perfect body for three-minute porn

Last year A. requested I make a few sexy videos of myself for his birthday including both dominant and submissive themes. Eager to grant my beloved's birthday wish, I set about creating story lines and writing scripts for the three minutes of video my camera will shoot.

I did so with a muggy dread at seeing my body in all its fullness and folds on camera, peppered with carbuncles, cellulite and bruises in their multicolored stages of healing -- so very unsexy when they aren't on my backside. The video of me as a slave in which I was completely naked was -- and remains -- the most difficult for me to watch. However upon checking myself out in the mirror when I was dressed up in a black lace bra, black stockings, and black garter belt for my dominatrix character, I was surprised to find myself thinking that I looked, Neither was I adverse to watching myself in this costume on video.*

For one of only a few times in my life there was symmetry between my body and the construct. Between the ideal depicted in popular culture, in this case the full-figured dominatrix, and what I was trying to attain in my imagination. It was then I realized that one of the reasons it has been so hard for me to accept my body over the years has been that as someone who has lived much of my imaginary (and sexual) life as a little girl, seeing a fleshy woman with mountainous breasts and lavish hips in the mirror has always been a source of tremendous dissonance.

It's not that my body is devoid of "little" characteristics. I'm 5' tall. My feet can fit into shoes as small as size 5 1/2 if they're wide enough. The fingers on those miniature stretchy gloves are often still too long when fitted onto my tiny hands. And the hair stylist I used to go to referred to my hair as "baby hair" because it's so thin it slides right through "adult-sized" barrettes.

However I did not have the body of a child for much of my childhood. I can remember watching Annie as a nine-year-old, with Aileen Quinn dressed in dainty cream and navy sailor suits and perky royal blue rompers with puffed pants and wanting terribly to dress like that. To look like that. Except I would have looked laughable in them. Despite being the same age as Aileen/"Annie," I had finally resigned to wearing a bra that year as my C-cup-sized-breasts could not longer be allowed to hang about. A few months ago my grandma presented me with a picture of my 11th birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. I suddenly understood why strangers were so shocked when I told them how old I was. In a my black and white flowered dress with the collar dipping down to breasts bulging against the cotton fabric, I would have sworn I was in my mid-20s.

Being a woman who is sexually submissive is about being small. Easily overpowered and dominated. You do not see many tall, fat submissives in BDSM porn. Not only is there the cultural aesthetic favoring the thin, but large women also take up too much space with estrogen-rich fat that the male dominant should be filling with testosterone, muscle, and patriarchal authority.

Yes, I'd like to see porn with more fat -- and tall -- women playing submissive characters along with their traditional roles as dominatrices. Though if I'm honest, I know I'm being more than a little hypocritical as I personally would not feel comfortable putting my own body on film for more than my lover to see. It may be that there are spanking porn producers out there who are more open to various body shapes and sizes but simply do not have many larger women auditioning.

I suppose I could say I have the perfect body for a switch. I'm short enough that my feet dangle above the floor when I'm over his knee and I have enough weight to throw around as the demanding domme. The perfect body for my dearest to both pet and worship. The perfect body for three-minute porn just for A.

*Needless to say, neither was A. He was quite pleased with all three.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Your potty mouth has a point

The word fuck never crossed my lips until I got sick. Until I got vertigo, to be exact. I had just started my first grown-up (i.e. non academic) job in June 2000. I even had my own cubicle and business cards. Then I woke up the day after Independence Day with everything spinning. When the doctor diagnosed me with labyrinthitis, telling me there was nothing that he could do and I just had to wait up to 6 weeks for it to leave on its own, I walked to the bus stop across the street from my clinic and let out a torrent of Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Turns out, it may have been a good coping mechanism. Indeed, this study shows that swearing actually can help reduce the intensity of pain -- something else that increased a great deal once I got sick. And needless to say, I swear like a sailor now. Though, according to the psychologist who did the study, the more you swear, the less effective it may be.

So now you have a very good excuse the next time you yell out a fuck! or a shit! during a particularly painful beating. I mean, it's scientific evidence!

A new, more substantive post about body size and kink is forthcoming. Illness and other events have conspired to limit my blogging of late, but not my thinking. Hopefully I'll be sharing some of those thoughts I've been itching to blog about in the next day or so.

And there are only a few more days left in the Natty's Spanking Blog Fifth Anniversary contest. I'd so love it if you'd stop by and help me celebrate my half a decade of blogging!

Monday, August 17, 2009

Five fantasies I'd like to forget

There are some spanking fantasies that have been with me for decades and are still as powerful as the day they first emerged from my psyche.

Like a medieval monastery fantasy I dreamed up during my sophomore year in high school that is woefully inaccurate historically, but still makes an appearance some nights when the lights are out (and begs to be written down). Come to think of it, there were a number of medieval fantasies that I had during high school -- all of which I still enjoy to this day.

But there are some fantasies I had when I was younger and less politically aware that make me cringe now. Or were even embarrassing at the time but my spanko imagination couldn't help itself. Below are five fantasies I'd like to forget:

1. Binyamin Netanyahu

You have to appreciate my non-kink life to understand how embarrassing this one is. Prior to becoming ill, I was an academic who studied an aspect of the Israel/Palestine conflict and at one point in grad school protested in front of the Israeli Embassy in Washington chanting "Netanyahu hey hey hey, how many kids did you kill today?!." My politics have changed substantially from 8-9th grade when I was a good little Evangelical Republican who woke up at 6am during summer vacation to swoon over Ollie North at the Iran-Contra hearings (though, oddly enough, I don't remember having spanking fantasies about him).

The fantasy I had about Netanyahu went as follows: I'd be in Jerusalem studying...something (you must indulge me regarding specifics as this was a fantasy from over two decades ago). For reasons that are utterly lost on me now, I'd end up amnesiacal in front of the Netanyahu residence where they would take me in and I'd become their adopted daughter and he'd be the strict daddy. I have some vague memory of doing something naughty that merited a severe spanking, but I'm afraid I can't remember exactly what it was (being out late maybe?).

So there. That is my most bizarre and embarrassing fantasy ever. Ever.

2. Mu'ammar al-Qadhaafi

This one is a very close second as Qadhaafi is the kookiest damn "Leader and Guide of the Revolution" ever to grace the League of Arab States. But it was 1986 and we'd just bombed Libya and I'd heard about how his adopted daughter had been killed. The idea that he had adopted a daughter -- and was mourning her loss -- gave him a sort of "caring daddy" image. Yet I was also a devout Evangelical girl with martyr fantasies. Combine devoted patriarch with cruel Oriental sheikh and a fantasy emerged where I was captured and forced to renounce my faith. When I refused, I was beaten severely. However I was able to finally win him over with my sensitive attention to his grief. It filled many a night with warm, tingling feelings I didn't understand; I just knew I kind of liked them.

Though I wish it might have been a real Oriental sheikh rather than some loony, flamboyant, wannabe Maoist.

3. Ronald Reagan

Again this was during my Republican youth and is a bit convoluted. It starts with a story that involves a crusty, stern grandfather and generous big brother who goes off to war and dies. This story would then be bought by Hollywood and I would be cast as his errant granddaughter (who would be getting spanked, of course) and Ronald Reagan, deciding to do a bit more acting after leaving the Oval Office, as the grandfather.

Not only is this fantasy utterly ridiculous, but as a pinko commie liberal (actually I'm too left wing to even be a liberal) the idea of being spanked by a guy who beat protesters, was economically reckless, subverted the Constitution to fund death squads, and dissociated Americans from the very government they comprise (to name just a few of my problems with his presidency) makes me wince a bit now.

4. A College Group Pastor

I have fantasized about almost every single pastor I've ever had save for a few. However one of the college group pastors I had was a guy I had very little respect for as a person (he was arrogant, thick, and manipulative), and when I fantasized about him spanking me, I couldn't help but feel a bit dirty. He had small children and we were Baptists so the topic of spanking was sprinkled throughout conversation, which invariably led me to imagine him spanking me for various misdeeds. When he left his wife and kids to run off with a girl from our college group a few years later (actually both of the college pastors I had went on to do this), I felt even dirtier.

5. Professor and Skipper from "Gilligan's Island":

I couldn't have been older than six, but might have been as young as five. It's not so much that I'm terribly embarrassed about who I was fantasizing about. They aren't your typical strict daddy stereotypes, but they can certainly work in a spanking fantasy. It's that my enthusiasm for this fantasy to be realized led me to tell some kids at the playground I was actually going to be on "Gilligan's Island," which was especially difficult given that the show was no longer being filmed. It only took me another year or so before I was old enough to understand what an ass I'd made of myself with the neighbor kids.

Unusual fantasies that I'm not necessarily ashamed of but are, admittedly, weird:

Supreme Court Justice David Souter: He was a single man who spent his nights alone reading law texts when George H.W. Bush appointed him, giving him an Atticus Finch sort of aura. The fact that he moved to the left over the years with me made that aura even stronger.

Uncle Jesse from the "Dukes of Hazzard": I was seven. He threatened to give Bo and Luke a whipping. I think I even thought up a whole fantasy but can't remember it now.

John Sager: When I was in sixth grade I went through a phase where I was obsessed with all things related to Marcus and Narcissa Whitman. In reading about them, I also read a lot about the Sager orphans they adopted, the oldest of whom was John, who had to parent his younger siblings on the Oregon Trail until they reached the Whitman Mission. In one story I read, he gave one of his younger sisters a spanking when she got out of bed to play while she was sick -- not to mention was spanked himself in that book if I remember correctly (I should also note the book was so historically inaccurate it might as well have been fiction). Needless to say, I was in love, albeit with someone who had died 140 years earlier.

A father ant: In fourth grade I wrote a seven page story about a family of ants with a father who was so real in my mind that I imagined being his naughty little girl ant. I'm not even exactly sure how one ant would spank another ant.

So there you have it, dear reader. As if getting spanked isn't embarrassing enough, I've now outed my very active but remarkably strange imagination.


And don't forget the 5th blogiversary contest continues. Please come help me celebrate my half decade of blogging about spanking.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

The wooden anniversary

(A birthday bum)*

The traditional gift for the fifth anniversary is wood. Or something made of wood. Both of which seem entirely appropriate for the fifth anniversary of a blog about spanking.

For most of those five years A. and I have talked about having a contest on this blog but have never quite gotten around to it. However since someone should get a present being that it's a birthday -- not to mention a spanking -- we decided this would be the perfect occasion for a contest.

Why Should Natty Get A Spanking?

To enter this contest, you must complete the following sentence in 10 words or less (for a maximum total of 15 words):

"Natty needs a spanking because _______________ ."

I must warn you that A. is a curmudgeon of an editor (which I always find yummy hot) so make sure your entry is grammatically correct, spelled properly, apostrophes are in the right place, etc. Entries will be judge on creativity and general cleverness (i.e. it's totally subjective). You can submit entries either in the comments section of this post or you may email them to me at nattyspanked [at] yahoo [dot] com.

The deadline for entries is August 31st at 11:59pm, Pacific Standard Time (8 hours behind UK time; 3 hours behind the East Coast). A. arrives on September 28th so he'll be here to help me pick the winner sometime in early October and administer the prize.

And what is that prize? You get to direct A. in spanking me over Twitter with accompanying TwitPics. You get to pick the implement(s), the position(s), and the number of strokes. Note that my health issues (i.e. being on blood thinners) will present some constraints, which I will appraise the winner of before the spanking commences.


A handmade wankin' spankin' tool similar to the one pictured in this post but with a handle in your choice of cording or ribbon. It can, of course, also be used by a partner, but it will hurt more. ::grin::


I'm in the process of putting together a book compiling my best posts and all of my stories, including one or two that have not been previously posted. The winner of this contest will receive the first copy, which should be out around December.


You may have noticed that I finally got around to completing what I hadn't quite finished for last year's anniversary, namely, creating a banner of my very own. It's only taken me a year to get a working scanner (though I still can't get the printer part to print black text...but I digress). The header of this blog now sports a cute drawing by A. referencing a popular pin-up girl from his youth.

Now I just have to figure out how to make my banner available for others to use (i.e. toplists)...

*Yes, that really is my bottom with a lit candle between my cheeks. I took the picture for A.'s birthday a few years ago. It seemed more appropriate for this post than a cake

Saturday, August 01, 2009

VibeReview Fantasy: Anal Douche

"I know a little girl who's about to have her bottom washed out and spanked."

This was Nanny Bea's traditional remedy for crankiness. Though its initial effect was to further deepen the scowl clouding Natty's face.


"Then I suggest you eat your dinner, young lady."

"But...I had chicken soup last night. And we never have pizza."

"You're still getting over a cold and soup is better for you."

Natty glared at her soup. Folded her arms. Kicked her feet, one after the other, against the legs of the chair.

"That's it," snapped Nanny Bea. "Off to the corner, please."

"Okay, okay. I'll eat my soup!"

"Indeed you will after you've had some time in the corner and over my knee."

Natty gulped. Pursed her lips. Contorted her face into the most pathetic of pleas.

"I'm not going to ask you again, young lady," stated Nanny Bea, who was already halfway to the bathroom.

With a sigh and a whimper, a truly melancholy Natty stood slowly from her chair and shuffled over to the familiar meeting place of the north and west walls. Hearing the water running in the nearby bathroom sink made her tummy twitter and tighten, not to mention gave her bottom a rather foreboding tingle.

"Natalie Samantha, come here please." Nanny Bea was always polite, even when she was very stern.

Natty straggled over to the sofa where Nanny was sitting with a towel draped over her lap. Next to her on the end table was a hairbrush, an anal bulb syringe, two latex gloves, a slender red butt plug, and a tube of lubricant. At least it wasn't a full bag. – the bulb and its contents – were still going inside her and it gave Natty a shiver.

"Take off your pajama bottoms and panties and lay over my lap, please."

Natty pouted as she slid down her red flannel bottoms and pink knickers. Even though Nanny had seen her naked many, many times, Natty always felt self-conscious when her nakedness was combined with...The Thing.

"Please don't spank me know...I promise I'll eat my soup." It was a quiet plea accompanied by sad, imploring eyes and tight, drawn together lips.

"Over my lap, please."

With a huff and a snivel, Natty climbed onto the sofa, sat on her legs, and then lowered herself over Nanny's lap. Nanny Bea picked up the hairbrush. Smoothed and patted Natty's bottom. Delivered twenty sharp smacks to her white, fleshy cheeks leaving Natty kicking and squirming and crying.

Once Natty's crying had petered to a whimper, Nanny Bea grabbed the latex gloves next to her and put them on. Flipped open the top of the lube and squeezed a small dab onto her index finger. Spread Natty's cheeks and smeared the lubricant on and in her hole. Picked up the bulb and slid the nozzle tip inside Natty's hole.

"It's so poky," Natty whined.

"You'll survive."

It took a moment before Natty felt the water flowing inside her. And it just felt...wrong. On so many levels. It left her feeling vulnerable, helpless and little, especially being over Nanny's lap. But she did like it when Nanny stroked her hair and patted her bottom once all the water was inside and her bottom was plugged. Natty knew that the cleaning out was meant for her own good. Meant to make her feel better and cleaner and cared-for. And Nanny Bea did care for Natty a great deal.

Yet why did something that was supposed to be so good for a person feel so dreadful?


While all the other bloggers are reviewing the sexiest -- and priciest -- new vibrators out there, I have taken it upon myself to appraise the lowly but ever so utilitarian anal douche. Though I can't claim to be all that altruistic as I (and many others) find that the humble anal douche can be a lot more erotic than a fancy vibrator. For others, it is simply a way to make back door lovin' cleaner and more enjoyable. So how does VibeReview's Anal Douche measure up to these tasks?

This is as simple an anal bulb syringe as you will find. The one I received from VibeReview has a thick phthalate-free rubber bulb or reservoir, a thin white plastic tube or nozzle that goes on top (and glows in the dark!) and is held in place by a thin, white disc that acts as a washer of sorts. You put the water in the reservoir, attach the nozzle, stick the nozzle in your hole, squirt the water inside, hold it for a bit, and then visit the loo.

Aside from it's glow-in-the-dark nozzle, this douche has no frills, like, say a rounded edge on the nozzle that the Fleet enemas you buy at the grocery store have, making plenty of lube an absolute necessity as it is damn pokey (especially should one, say -- and I'm just speaking theoretically here -- suffer from the chief side effect of opiate, constipation, which leads to the chief side effect of And I found the rubber bulb tough as hell to squeeze multiple times (have I mentioned what a weakling I am?) and keep compressed so the water doesn't get sucked back into the reservoir.

But if you want something cheap that does the job, the anal douche from VibeReview will suffice.