Sunday, March 30, 2008

The way back on top

I was reading an old post at Femdom Romance this afternoon (yes, I know I said I was feeling subby yesterday but I felt toppy when I woke up today though ended up subby and spanked by tonight when I was on the phone with A. -- it's dizzying the way I switch anymore...) about how to introduce the reticent wife or girlfriend to dominating her partner. Note the quote is originally from Ms. Rika, but the link was no longer working.

You may dislike the imagery of the words ‘dominance’ and ‘submission’, ‘Mistress’ and ‘slave’. However, you might like the idea of your partner doting on you, alert to your needs, totally turned on by you, giving you massages, pulling his weight around the house (and then some), focusing on your thoughts and ideas, in short, treating you like a Queen.

This really was the way I was able to embrace the idea of topping A. I mean, I'm five feet tall. I couldn't wear stiletto heels if my life depended on it. And leather is something I may use to whip A. with (or he may use to whip me), but I certainly don't wear it.

However the idea of being doted on, being treated like a queen (or princess as we usually construct it) was indeed very appealing. I can get a clean house and not have to hold back any criticism if it's not up to my standards. I can get a lovely foot massage. My body is worshiped (a nice antidote to always hearing what's wrong with it). Not to mention I can get a damn fine orgasm without any effort. How could anyone not like this?

It occurred to me recently that what made topping hard at first was the fear I would lose A. as a top. Would I still be able to look at him as that authoritative, stern disciplinarian I fell in love with? At its core, spanking has always been about connecting with my inner little girl. Would he still be her strict, loving daddy?

The answer was a definitive yes. I found out quickly that A. becomes more dominant than ever after being submissive. It doesn't matter how much I may have just been abasing him, the minute he gets that no-nonsense tone of voice, I'm back into sheepish little girl mode.

I suppose tonight was a good example. When he called I had just finished reading the above post and was in a domme-y disposition. As it turned out, he was in a subby mood and I took the opportunity to taunt him about his upcoming birthday spanking, as well as a domestic-sort of task I was going to make him do during his next subby session. Now the day before we had actually talked about doing some phone spanking -- on my backside, that is. But I was exhausted from acupuncture yesterday and had a throbbing headache and so we decided to put it off until tomorrow.

Something happened as we went about our conversation. Like a switch flipping (that term works on so many levels). Before I knew it, I was taunting him, but as a true brat. "You just watch your step," he told me solemnly. And I watched my step alright -- right into trouble. When the conversation shifted from Top Gear to polar bears and then to the burgeoning black bear population here in Oregon -- a problem A. believes doesn't receive nearly the attention it merits -- I couldn't keep quiet.

"You're just a 'fraidy girly bear boy,"I sneered.

"You are sorely overdue." There was that no-nonsense tone.

"Well you are!"

"But what implement to use?" A. asked himself. "The rubber paddle? The ping pong bat?"

"Bat?" I laughed heartily.

"Yes. The ping pong bat will do," he decided.

"It's not a bat, it's a ping pong paddle. You Brits use the silliest words."

"Right. You're getting five more for general defiance."

"But it's true!"

"Go ahead and keep talking..."

I stopped.

"I'm done talking now," I said softly.

"I'm going to go out for a smoke and before I call back, I want you to get the ping pong bat out and take your pants down."

"Yes, Sir."

It was a long spanking, partly because my pain threshold was at an astronomical level today. (It varies wildly. Some days you can barely tap me with a hairbrush and it's unbearable and other days you can't hit me hard enough with a riding crop.) After several rounds of eight on each cheek and one of twenty-four fast, hard strokes, he was going to have me switch to the wooden spoon. But being the very very good girl that I am, I offered (timidly) that the heavy wooden paddle is probably more severe for self-spanking (and, oddly enough, bruises less). So the wooden paddle it was. One round of eight on each cheek and a round of four on each cheek. By the end he definitely got me whimpering.

"Good. Had to get at least a wince out of you."

I smiled and suspect he was too on the other end of the line.

We lingered on the phone, aching to cuddle. Reminding ourselves that there is now less than a month until he will be here again.

"Next week we'll sit down and discuss the areas where you need some discipline," he said. Before I knew it, I was confessing that I had been neglecting my physical therapy for my finger and how I kept meaning to tell him but also kept thinking that somehow I would do better without needing his help.

We also talked about having a regular day for my discipline.

"Well, Sunday is traditional," I said.

"Yeah, Sunday..."

Before heading off to bed, he reminded me that I was to finish some restraints I've been meaning to make.

"I'm setting Friday as your deadline."

"Yes, Sir."

I lay there on the bed for a long time after we hung up. I hadn't realized how much discipline had been missing from our relationship for a good month or so. And being reminded, I realized how desperately I missed it. How much I've missed being his little girl.

And oh how much I love him.

No matter what we do and where our relationship takes us, he always finds his way back on top.

Friday, March 28, 2008

It was me!

Whew! That last post kicked the crap out of me. And then the stomach flu kicked a whole lot more crap outta me. Literally. But I'm back to solid foods now. And I think I'm just about caught up on comments, though I still owe lots of email to both kinky and non-kinky alike. So much email...

At any rate, I thought I'd share a quicky with you about my appointment with Nurse K. on Tuesday. Awhile back A. asked regarding my relationship with Nurse K. "who will be the first one to use the S word?" Well, it turned out to be me. At one point, I was mentioning how I had been trying to get an appointment with her the week of the 17th.

"If I saw you that day I could have pinched you -- if you weren't wearing green, that is," she said with a grin.

"Apparently that's an American thing as A. had never heard of that custom until I mentioned it," I said, being the cultural anthropologist-wannabe nerd that I am. Then without really thinking too much and with a bit of a grin myself I followed up with, "And apparently they don't have birthday spankings in England either." Suddenly I realized I'd said the "S" word and quickly mumbled something about perhaps it shows that Americans are more violent.

Nurse K. smiled and then turned back to the computer to type in my Coumadin dose as she verbally went over it with me.

Needless to say, it was not one of my more articulate moments.

Speaking of birthday spankings, A.'s birthday will occur a little over a week after he gets here (a month from tomorrow!). It will be the first time we will have ever been together on his birthday and at that time I plan to painfully introduce him to the venerable American tradition of the birthday spanking.

I'm hoping his ass will be more sore than my arm.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Take it all, Bitch


As you might imagine, What It Is We Do can be a bewildering concept for both kinky and vanilla feminists alike. Hell, it's a bewildering concept for us feminists who engage in it, as the epic thread that followed my post from a little over a year ago at the Punishment Book can attest. In her article, "Slap Happy," in this month's issue of Bitch Magazine (Spring, No. 39) author Jessica Wakeman doesn't necessarily provide any answers to make it less bewildering, but she does give the reader plenty to think about.

I think it's important to remember that she walks several fine lines among word limit and the need to contextualize, describing who we are and what we do -- and what we think about what we do, and how the whole thing relates to the issues of female choice and empowerment to an audience of women who may or may not be sex-positive and know absolutely nothing about domestic discipline. In dealing with all this, she makes points and asks questions that were very thoughtful, if somewhat provocative at times. And, yes, despite walking all these fine lines, there are elements she gets wrong too.

Wakeman's thesis is that domestic discipline is a method that some couples use to make their relationships work. A lifestyle that can provide a certain yin and yang that is missing in the contemporary male-female relationship. She quotes at length family historian Stephanie Coontz, who talks about how marriage has changed more in the last 35 years than in the last several thousand and how couples are finding new ways of "doing" a relationship. And couples have more choice about how to do that relationship than ever before, including consciously utilizing domestic discipline.

In the process of explaining this novel-but-not-novel way to do a relationship, Wakeman tries to contextualize DD within the recent history of feminism and the much longer history of male dominance and female submission.
"If an imbalance of power, based on centuries of socialization, is bubbling just below the surface of a relationship, some couples deal with the conflict by establishing some boundaries and choosing to accept then."
This was sort of an inversion of how the writer of the blog Whatever she says describes their relationship: "Most women are the 'boss' of their marriage. The only difference is that I've admitted it and she has acknowledged it." It seems fair to say that DD is a way of acknowledging that we're not all the same. Some have different strengths and weaknesses and we've simply negotiated those differences in power in ways that work for us rather than let them fester below the surface and cause problems with the relationship -- a marked departure from the past where gender roles were fixed and there was no negotiation.

In looking at the rhetoric of blogs like Loving Domestic Discipline, Wakeman rightly acknowledges that "taken at face value, domestic discipline reeks of feminist backlash." Female dominance -- even equality -- is a scary prospect for a lot of men (and women) and there are indeed those who utilize DD in an effort to get women back into a traditional, feminine submissive role. Let's face it, to newcomers looking at the endless blogs and Yahoo groups on domestic discipline, most seem to revolve around women who are bitchy, get into fights with their husbands, get super-bitchy, get spanked by their husbands, then everything is better without ever looking at why she's bitchy or that she may well have some damn good reasons to be bitchy. Not to mention all those spanking stories where the woman is strong-willed, irrational, stubborn, and irresponsible. They reinforce the notion that the emotions of women require the management of stable, reasonable men.

On the other hand, while second wave feminism made great strides in demonizing domestic abuse, "the resulting taboo," says Wakeman, "pushes couples in DD relationships into the closet." Along with a brilliant quote from Mija about how "there's nothing feminist about sublimating your desires because society says you shouldn't have them," Wakeman subtly reproves her audience for creating an environment that is hostile to the choices some women make about what to do with their bodies.

While trying to address the question that many non-kinksters have regarding the relationship between childhood abuse and spanking, Wakeman makes it clear that "for DD women, there's no readily apparent thread connecting actual childhood discipline with their current lifestyle." And she does a good job of placing DD squarely within the spanking fetish by noting that, while not all spankos practice DD, all those who practice domestic discipline are confirmed spankos.. "...[T]he line between spanking intended for a boudoir thrill and spanking as an outside-the-bedroom consequence can be blurry..." Indeed, as I have argued in the past, punishment and DD are really just sub-fetishes within the larger fetish of erotic spanking.

Wakeman's most interesting and challenging question in this article was asking how much of our yearning for discipline is about a strong societal norm for female perfection.

"Their fallibility frustrates and overwhelms them...Many American women strongly feel the drive to be perfect: to be educated, to be a breadwinner, to be a good mother, to be a good wife, and to be beautiful to boot. Is it possible some women -- whether kinkily inclined, formerly abused, neither, or both -- turn to domestic discipline the same way others find solace in punishing behaviors like eating disorders, cutting, or obsessively working out?"

Ouch. I can't answer "no" right away. I found the timing eerie, reading this a week after writing my own post on my obsession with perfection (though I failed to include a gender element in my discussion). And it's certainly been a topic of mine at the Punishment Book. Indeed, when I first started acknowledging I had this preoccupation with spanking and punishment, I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps it was a variation on cutting. While most of me says it's not -- as I say in the article, my sexuality expresses itself as a child who gets off on shame and punishment -- if I'm being brutally honest, there's a part of me that can't say definitively no, it's not at all about my inability to deal with my own fallibility. I have a hard time accepting the fact that I'm finite, and I have most certainly been guilty of using spanking as a means of trying to attain that ever impossible perfection.

Now, like many of you, my first reaction to this article was heavily influenced by my disagreements with it, as well as being rather chagrined that I was introduced in the article as the one who self-spanks over the phone with her boyfriend. It's embarrassing enough having to admit that to fellow spankos, but to be introduced to the feminist world like that was a bit...er, uncomfortable.

The first issue involves a little linguistic nitpicking.

"Mija and Natty control the nature of their DD relationships with a power referred to in the BDSM community as 'topping from the bottom'. In such situations it's the submissive partner who's actually in control; the 'top' is required to have permission from the bottom before inflicting any BDSM action."

I would not consider what I do as topping from the bottom. That is really a form of manipulating the top to do what you want her/him to do -- not that I haven't had my moments. Oh, I hope you don't spank me with the belt! That, my friends, is topping from the bottom, though it's brazen enough that A. generally knows I'm trying to get him to do something very specific. However, because he's the top, he controls whether or not he's going to go on to spank me with the belt. Thus, I maintain my status as bottom and he as top.

Negotiating the framework of our disciplinary relationship, with me having a say in how it will proceed doesn't strike me as topping from the bottom; it's simply negotiation. Once we have negotiated what we want to do, A. then decides how to execute the framework we've both decided upon and I submit to those decisions, save for a safeword or phrase that might stop everything until we can decide what's wrong and where to proceed from there. Basically, the same as in any sort of BDSM safe-sane-consensual scene.

But, of course, the main point of disagreement was on the issue of gender and DD. About half way into the article, in parentheses, Wakeman states:

"Theoretically, a man can be the submissive in a heterosexual domestic discipline relationship, and a DD relationship can be same-sex, but based on both Internet presence and the couples that I interviewed, it's far more common to find heterosexual, female-submissive practitioners."

In the year since I was interviewed for this article, A. and I have started switching more regularly.  It is true that we don't switch in terms of discipline but it has little to do with gender; I'm the one who gets off on it and finds it more effective (my musings as to why are here). However, as I've started topping more, I've started seeking out more F/M blogs and am realizing there are a lot more than I realized when I was primarily a bottom.

As A. and I talked about this article, we both agreed this was the one point where we thought Wakeman got it wrong. He suggested that there are a lot more men in DD relationships than are reflected online because men are less inclined to blog about their activities (as, apparently are female tops). It's true too that F/M couples don't use Yahoo groups to quite the extent that M/F do, though to be sure, there are quite a number of disciplinary F/M Yahoo groups. It does have me wondering what is different about F/M domestic discipline that it doesn't express itself online in the same way that M/F does (pictures -- it's more visually oriented is my first thought). Men do not seem to be articulating submissiveness, nor are women articulating dominance in the same ways and in the same amounts as submissive women. Is there still a strong societal standard against men expressing submissiveness and women domestic dominance?

A. also believes that a lot of men are simply going to dominatrices when they can't get what they want from their partners. A frequent commenter here, Indiana, asked in an email, "Is it true that societal forces make it more likely that a woman will consent to spanking than a man?" I would argue that I think the societal force is more along the lines of making woman feel less comfortable dominating (or rather, our form of domination has traditionally been in manipulation rather than in blunt force) so that it is very difficult for submissive men to find a partner willing to provide the strong female hand they need and desire. It's a lot easier to slip back into traditional roles than chip away at new, less comfortable ones.

While, yes, it's true there isn't as much of a same-sex presence online (though it is there), that reflects the fact that heterosexuality is the norm. Out of any given population group, same-sex couples are always going to be in the minority (well, you know, except maybe the Castro district in San Francisco) but it was unfortunate that same-sex couples were excluded, as Jigsaw Analogy noted in the comments for the previous post, as it would have demonstrated the problem genderizing this lifestyle entails.

So, yes, I cringed when Ms. Wakeman stated that "The crux of domestic discipline is that women's behavior is inherently rife with transgressions, and the discipline provided by their intimate partner will be a leveling force." The context of this comment is unclear to me. I'm not sure if this was meant to represent the views of Mr. Loving DD and his ilk rather than my or Mija's view. And if it was, I wished that there was more contrast between what Mija and I do, and what MrLovingDD does (that is, if he does it at all or just writes very good "wank material" as one friend has called it). He genders behavior, we do not and I don't think that point is very clear.

If it was meant to truly describe the essence of domestic discipline as practiced by the majority, then I think she (or her editor) missed a very important point. F/M domestic discipline is not a fringe group within DD and making it so within this article marginalizes their sexuality (though there is the point that it is "feminizing" men, which is still a form of female submission in its own way). By insisting on maintaining a gendered perspective on dominance and submission, it keeps women boxed into rigid definitions that ultimately dis-empower women.

However, again I think it's important to keep in mind the audience for whom this article was written: feminist women who may know a little something about erotic spanking but know absolutely nothing about domestic discipline. And it's damn hard to explain it to an outsider. It is impossible for the target audience to look at this completely outside the construct of gender, as much as I think they should. I mean, the relationship that A. and I have -- that all nine of us at the Punishment Book have with our partners -- is not necessarily the norm when you take into consideration DD blogs and groups in their entirety. Would I have liked an article that looked at how some women are practicing DD without the stereotypes? Sure, but first people have to actually know what the hell it is.

I should also note that Ms. Wakeman was under a great deal of pressure to sensationalize this story, (i.e. make this a story that poked fun at us freaks) or simply couldn't sell the story because it was too edgy (and the magazines she pitched it to were hardly the Ladies Home Journal). While we're used to What It Is We Do, most people are not, and I think the compromise she found at Bitch in describing this as a way that women are seeking to "do" a relationship is a reasonable one even if I disagree with the gendered approach.

On Monday when my county-appointed housekeeper arrived to do my laundry, she told me the harrowing tale of how her daughter was beaten by her husband the weekend before. He started to choke her when she refused to give him the car keys because he was drunk, all the while shoving his knee into her three month pregnant belly. For hours after the cops came and dragged him off to jail, they could not get a heartbeat on the fetus. Eventually a heartbeat was heard, though they will not know the extent of any damage until birth. It was a poignant reminder to me that while we have come to a point where I can exercise my right to play with dominance and submission, we have not reached a point where the raw, non-consensual execution of it has ceased. And for a lot of people, it is impossible to divorce one from the other, even if I can.

But it's hard when you're a woman who has done all the things you're supposed to do to be a good feminist to hear someone suggest that you're doing something that puts the whole thing back to the days when the police wouldn't be showing up to take a wife-beater to jail. That you're embracing a construct with thousands of years of misogyny backing it up. I think that's why places like the Punishment Book, This Thing We Do, as well as the increasing number of feminist voices -- female and male -- among the domestic discipline community are so valuable. And why consciously grasping the choice we have to practice What It Is We Do in a non-gendered, mindful way is a profoundly feminist act.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Some homework on feminism and spanking

Alrighty, dear readers, my brain fog is still palpably thick. Or as A. might say, "it's a right pea-souper." So I'm going to assign you some homework as I slowly chip away at my post whilst groping around in the haze (it also means I'm going to be a bit slow in getting to email -- I'm so sorry!).

The new spring issue of Bitch magazine is now online and gracing discriminating newstands everywhere. Why, you ask, am I suggesting you read Bitch on a blog about spanking? Well aside from the fact that it's a great magazine about pop culture and feminism, and, as the great bell hooks said, feminism is for everyone (including -- maybe even especially -- spankos), I also recommend you go out and find yourself a copy because this issue contains an article featuring yours truly (as well as others) and domestic discipline (it is, alas, not one of the articles available online -- yet).

I found a great deal in the article that was thoughtful and valuable. And, of course, there are a few areas where I very respectfully disagree. But I figure it might be nice to have a discussion about it if at least some of you have read the article. (Lordy it's been awhile since I said that -- albeit in a college classroom). Or, more importantly, I'm totally stalling while I wait for the fog to lift.

In the meantime, while I go back to watching television and trying not to drool on myself when I doze off, I leave you with a quote from a beautifully written post that was included in a recent feminist carnival. Go on. Go, read the entire post. You'll be glad you did. (My, aren't I in a toppy mood tonight?)

So, we took school seriously, we dated boys who were enlightened and honoured our stellar futures, we went on to postsecondary education, we delayed marriage, we started our careers and bought our houses before beginning our families, we nurtured our careers, earned our promotions, followed the social issues, donated to the progressive charities, hired the childcare, earned as much as or more than our husbands, pushed against the glass ceiling, talked the talk, walked the walk. We had everything, did everything, exhausted ourselves fighting the good fight, achieving the good life. One thing we / they forgot though … we somehow missed out on some of the original intention — choice.

I followed the rules, lockstep. I didn’t follow the only possible path — I get that. There were variations I could have chosen...Basically, though, I followed the rules. That’s how it felt — what we were really good at was the same thing our mothers were good at — following rules. This particular set of rules was about emancipation not subservience, but they were set expectations, nevertheless. It took me a long time to figure that out. Don’t get me wrong; I was grateful for the opportunities provided by those expectations and by the women who trailblazed to create them — I still am. But here I am, 42, and living in a box that is roomier and has better views than the one that contained my mother… but a box even so.

So… one night this week, I will meet Him. For four or five hours, I will accept a new set of rules, where I call him Sir, and he calls me pet, and I kneel, and he ties me up, and I shiver, and he spanks. The difference is that they will be rules that he and I negotiated together...

Sunday, March 16, 2008

I'm quality


While I'm pretty sure I would have been voted least likely to be a sex blogger in high school, I think now that I've been reviewed by Jane's Guide, I'm officially a sex blogger. So, you know, that'll be something to spice things up at the 20th reunion (a mere and unbelievable three years away).

Wolfe gave me a very kind review that you can read here.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

My naughty little girl imagination

Sorry to be so quiet this last week and a half. I'm going through a phase of sleeping a lot. It's a recuperative-sort of sleeping rather than a depressive-sort of sleeping, and frankly I find myself impatient with the whole thing. But at the end of this sleeping phase I know I'll feel better, so I've learned to just go with it. Unfortunately yesterday I had to make a trip to Walmart after massage therapy/acupuncture, and that's knocked me back for what will probably be a few days. I'm working on a post that requires my brain to be a little less foggy than it has been lately, and hopefully I'll get that posted in a few days.

In the meantime, as I wrote on my non-kink blog, I've been trying to practice being in the present more and finding it difficult when stuck in bed a lot of the time. Not only that, but I end up having to deal with my current feelings about past events (see this post or this one). After wrestling with the demons of unanswerable whys the other night, I've found myself in a very little girl sort of mood.

I keep imagining A. taking me over his lap and scrunching my cotton panties down to my knees. As he begins to spank my fat, creamy white cheeks with his large, hard hands, he will tell me that this spanking is to remind me that I'm a little girl. His little girl. No amount of pouting and whimpering will keep him from spanking me until my cheeks are scarlet and I'm kicking and crying like a small child. And I'll feel particularly small when he stands me up and orders me to the corner, where I'll waddle to with my panties down around my ankles. After a few minutes of feeling very small indeed, he'll bring me to himself and cuddle his special girl. He'll stroke my hair and tell me what a good girl I am. A little girl who is wanted. Always wanted. And those horrible demon whys will go away.

As you can see, my imagination has a penchant for intruding on my being present.

Right. Back to bed. Hopefully I'll have dreams about the paragraph above instead of the emotionally draining sort I had earlier this week...

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Send your Facebook friend a spank

Somebody else may have already blogged about this. And lord knows I'm probably the last person on earth to get a page on Facebook (not linked here but I suppose if you dug around enough on my non-kink blog you might find the link). But, on Facebook there is this one application called "SuperPoke" in which you can send a certain action to your Facebook friends and among all the choices of actions you can send him or her is a spank.


But, alas, there is no little emoticon/icon/whatever the hell you call it for the spank! I mean, how hard would it be to have a little bottom next to "spank" that's a bit rosy? Plus, it's also listed under the "mean" Superpokes, but not the "nice" Superpokes. What's up with that?

Saturday, March 01, 2008

Permission not to be perfect

Last night while roaming around the spanking blogosphere, I happened upon the new Eric's Spanking Blagh, where Eric has introduced himself to readers with a lengthy story about a naughty coed whose drinking and inattention to her studies gets her a bad grade on a test and a sore bottom. It reminded me of the spanking fantasies I had when I was in college about having my own strict daddy or uncle. Indeed on the Southern California Evangelical campus I wandered, there was a grad student who looked to be in his forties who stood out amongst all the teens and earlier twenty year olds. I never actually talked to him, but I imagined on several occasions him giving me a few over the knee chats in his apartment in the graduate housing next to my dorm.

By the end of my freshman year of college, having both a strict daddy and mommy was a dominant fantasy. I knew I wanted to study Arabic, and I imagined being adopted by a childless Arab couple who would use, er, traditional methods in teaching me their native tongue. If I tried to speak in English at all, I'd be spanked. You know, sorta like the Language Pledge at Middlebury College. And they would certainly see to it that I did my homework every night (no doing it in the middle of class like I sometimes did). They would probably even have very traditional views about boys and dating (i.e. mamnoo'a -- forbidden).

That fantasy remained with me throughout college and into graduate school, though I think I had a few fantasies about being spanked by my Arabic instructor in grad school, especially as he actually did rule our class with an iron fist. If the university would have let him get away with it, I don't doubt he probably would have included corporeal punishment along with the dictations he used to punish us with when he thought we weren't studying hard enough.

The thing is, though, that when I look back at what I was like in college, I had no real need for a strong disciplinarian, as much as I may have dreamed of having one. I never drank. To be sure, it wasn't readily available my freshman year at that Evangelical university where alcohol was prohibited. But then, so was pre-marital sex, yet that didn't stop a lot of my classmates from giving it up in their boyfriends' backseats. When I transferred to a state school where I could study Arabic, alcohol was readily available from my friends who at times pleaded with me to have a drink with them. But I didn't drink because I was a Baptist. And the family I lived with from my church maintained a most assuredly dry home.

Not only did I not party, but I also kept my nose in the books. Sure, I procrastinated at times, slacked off here and there. But I had to have some sort of a social life, even if I insisted on being home by 9pm so I could get to bed by 9:30-10 at the latest. Yes. You read that right. I went to bed most nights well before 10pm throughout college. It boggles my mind now. Even I want to tease my undergraduate self for acting like such an old maid, as my friends often did. The only thing that saved me from being the class goody-goody (at least in Arabic, in my Honors class I had the good girl position totally locked up) was a guy I'll call Clark, who transferred into our Arabic class after spending a year in Egypt. He did nothing but study Arabic when he wasn't in class. Well, that and go to church. By my senior year, he'd overtaken me in grammar as well as in being the teacher's pet. I hated him, even though he was a very nice guy -- a fact that made me hate him even more. Next to Clark I felt like the naughty girl, which a small part of me enjoyed a great deal.

Obviously at some point I moved into the real world. I mean, now I not only drink but fornicate -- and celebrate my deviant sexual behavior in a blog! It was a gradual change that started the second year of grad school when I finally had my first beer. But I didn't actually start exploring sex until after the surgery that triggered my ME/CFS and after converting to Catholicism. Perhaps my willingness to forsake the faith of my youth gave me the courage to forsake its mores as well. And as my body moved beyond my ability to rigidly control because of illness, I desperately needed an escape. As I explained in my earliest post, I needed to play. Badly. So I retreated into that world that before I had only allowed myself to escape to at night while drifting off to sleep.

It makes me smile a bit to look back and think of my longings for a disciplinarian as a college student. I still had a healthy sexual fantasy life despite how repressed I was. And even if the fantasies themselves were rather unconventional -- so much so that I didn't even connect them to sex at the time.

That hunger for more discipline is also perhaps a bit disturbing. I clearly had no need of a disciplinarian. But all I could see then was the failings one would have kept me from making, even as everyone around me was constantly in awe of how good I was. I wanted to be perfect and surely a disciplinarian would have taken me to the Promised Land.

Or maybe I did need one, but only as a way of telling me it was okay to be bad. You can't live the fantasy of being naughty and getting spanked unless, well, unless you're actually naughty, or at least pretend to be so. If I was still the good girl who went to bed at 9:30 every night and whose only fault was that she procrastinated a bit, there wouldn't be much fun.

Yes, in many ways I think there is a lot about this kink that, for me at least, is about having the permission to be naughty, even if -- or perhaps, so that -- I get spanked for it. I think in many ways what I longed for in college was the freedom to be a naughty coed without the world falling apart. I had worked too hard to get there, and had too many great plans (even if illness quickly whisked them away) to risk pregnancy or the zillion other things that could have gone wrong. The only way I could make sure (or so I thought) that everything went as they were supposed to was to be perfect.

I'm really glad I'm not perfect anymore. So very glad.