The bad, the better and the experimental

So I had the big appointment with the hematologist on Thursday.

The bad news is that because my pulmonary embolism(emboli) was unprovoked (i.e. there's no obvious reason for it) and was a fairly serious one (I had clots in both lungs and fluid around the lung) I'm at high risk for a fatal pulmonary embolism. Therefore I will need to be on anticoagulants for the rest of my life.

The better news is that the bleeding risk may not be as bad as everybody makes out. I asked the hematologist what the risk really is.

"Well, because you're young, the risk for cerebral hemorrhage is about 0.5%."

Which, you know, is comforting. My brain suddenly bleeding would suck.

But that's not quite what I was interested in.

"So, what about, um, well, like...uh...hard impact like stuff."

"Oh, well, you're going to bruise more. But people who work in jobs where they bruise a lot do okay."

This still wasn't answering my real question very well. I was going to have to be specific.

"I..."

I took a deep breath.

"I..."

How to phrase it so I didn't sound like a total freak?

"I..."

I looked at him. Looked at the wall behind him. Looked at the floor. Looked back at him. Looked at the sink. Looked back at him. He had been smiling politely, waiting for me to ask whatever it was I was trying to ask. But the smile was fading as the seconds ticked by. I was just going to have spill it.

"I have a spanking fetish..." I looked at the wall. Then back at the doctor, who for a split second had that "what kind of freak are you?" look. But only for a split second.

"Well..." Now it was his turn to look away and think of an answer. "This is going to sound weird but --"

"-- That's okay," I chuckled. "I've just asked you a weird question."

"You're basically going to have to experiment and figure out what works."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I mean, I knew you weren't going to be able to say specifically what would work."

"Yes," he said. "Unfortunately I can't say 'yes, based on extensive research and clinical trials...'"

We laughed.

"I'm just worried about bleeding like I did in my knee seven years ago when I was on anticoagulants," I said. "I just never want to go through that again." And I don't. That hurt like fucking hell. Like beyond morphine hurt.

"Well, at that time you were post-operative so you were at very high risk of bleeding. And knee bleeds particularly are exquisitely painful. But, you know, you'll bruise more but other than that I don't know. You're young so your veins are strong."

Well, okay. Maybe this life sentence won't be the end of the world.

Upon hearing the news that we were going to need to experiment, A. got out the toys. Lined up the strap, the cane, and the riding crop on the bed. Made me strip down to my panties and bra and bend over the pillows he placed to the left of the implements, where he then left me while he went outside to smoke.

When he returned, it was knickers down. And just to be sadistic -- as well as maybe keep the bruising down -- he rubbed ice over my bottom before laying into me with the strap.

Normally I like the strap, as well as the belt. It will hurt when it first hits but a split second later turn into a very pleasurable sensation.

Not then. It just hurt. A lot!

Damn I'm so out of practice.

When I think about it, this was my first real spanking since the end of December. And that was the only significant one I'd had since August before that.

At any rate, he whacked me for what seemed like a long time. Hard (though he said later they weren't really that hard). And the business end kept nailing me right on the inside of my crack.

Yes, I kicked some. And squirmed to move my bottom out of the way (though not enough to really get it out of the way). And cried out into my pillows.

Then he did a "six of the best" with the strap. Those, he said, were fairly hard. And they sure felt like it.

By this point I was starting to get some anxious-looking red blotches along my crack. A. decided that was enough of the strap.

But that just meant it was time for the cane.

I have to admit, I've been kind of curious about how well I would handle the cane. I can report that while my blood vessels seem to handle it swimmingly, my endorphines were not kicking in like they should have. This time I knew he wasn't hitting me very hard. But it still hurt. To the point where I almost started crying.

I think my spanking virginity grew back like Mija's did.

A. didn't bother with the riding crop. Apparently there are limits to his sadism. Though he did utilize the strap and the cane later on my, um, womanhood. But that was after he cuddled me. And let his fingers wander.

Now that we know he can spank me without fear of me definitely bleeding internally or anything (I mean, there'll always be some risk), he's making use of all his pent up need to spank. He calls it "getting me back into practice." Indeed he's now decided that I'm to be spanked daily. Every night I'm to be on the bed at 6pm with my trousers and knickers down.

::gulp::

I think this is one of those "be careful what you wish for" situations.

So, the good news in all this is that he doesn't even have to spank very hard for it to really hurt. The bad news is that...well, he doesn't even have to spank me very hard for it to really hurt!

But, you know, the important thing is that my spanking life seems safe. :)

Pushing the envelope just a little

I just got a little spanking -- and it actually hurt!

::grin::

I had just taken a bath and was letting A. do a little inspecting of my shaving job (which is probably not the best thing to do on anti-coagulants but, hey, my INR was low Wednesday and I was careful). The inspection went well ("perfect") and I was laying next to him while he watched his favorite James Bond movie of all time, Goldfinger (they show Bond movies frequently on AMC, which technically I shouldn't be getting with my limited cable package, so we call it the Secret Bond Channel). He was playing with my nipples, hard amongst the soft, clean skin of my breasts. And, well, it was getting me rather aroused.

But pleasuring myself without permission is very naughty, of course.

Not that I cared.

Even after he delivered several sharp smacks to my breasts.

"You bad bad girl."

I bit my lip.

"Oh, please don't spank me. Please don't spank me with the ruler."

He stood up and grabbed the ruler. Rapped my nipples.

"Legs up."

I promptly obeyed, even while my left hand was rubbing my clitoris.

That wooden ruler is deceptively light. Twenty-four inches of sprightly sting. And on my cold bottom, it stung even more.

"Right. You better come. I'm going to keep spanking you until you come."

And he did. As well as squeezed my nipples.

With that sort of incentive, I didn't mess around.

So, A. has at least one weapon now. A cold, wet bottom and an airy wooden ruler.

A big kink in my kink

Thanks for all the well-wishes and good thoughts. They were very sweet and I appreciate them a lot.

Physically I'm doing okay. Worn out, but okay. My oxygen level never went below a hundred percent and once they figured out what was wrong (and it took them awhile), they were able to start anti-coagulation therapy in addition to the narcotics and release me from the hospital the very next day. In that respect, I did very well. Most people with pulmonary emboli in both lungs stay in the hospital for awhile.

A. arrived last week and he's been taking good care of me. Giving me lots of big cuddles. Doing laundry (the county cut funding for my caregiver just a couple of weeks before all this happened so there's a backlog of housework). Cooking meals with a bit more flavor and nutritional variety than my normal Meals on Wheels. Feeling uncomfortable as I keep trying to initiate sex or spanking.

Technically there's no problem with having sex while on anti-coagulation therapy. I even explicitly asked my GP to reassure A. Then, of course, when we did try to have sex the other day, I had some weird blood pressure fluctuation which made me have to stop before either of us got very far. But that should change with time.

Spanking, however, is an entirely different matter.

Anti-coagulation therapy means that I'm taking medication to lengthen the amount of time my blood takes to clot. That time is measured by something called an INR and the goal is to have my INR between 2 and 3. The higher the INR, the longer it takes for me to clot, hence the higher the risk of uncontrolled bleeding. The lower the INR, of course, the less time it takes to clot and the more likely I am to have a clot that doesn't dissolve like it should.

Being on a medication which could potentially cause uncontrolled bleeding means that I have to be very careful about a number of issues including obvious things like shaving or bruising, but also what I eat (warfarin interacts with 186 different drugs and foods -- though that works both ways). And scarier still, I have a history of bleeding on this stuff. Seven years ago I had surgery on my right ankle and knee and developed clots in my leg and lungs. When they put me on anti-coagulants at that time, my knee joint hemorrhaged when my INR was 3.5 to the point where the paramedic said it looked like I had a soccer ball on top of my knee. I was post-operative then and therefore was at higher risk for bleeding. This time I seem to be managing the warfarin better. I survived an INR of 4.8 last week without any major incident.

As you can imagine, all this presents a major kink in my spanking kink. Light spanking is okay. But I have to be very careful about bruising. Not only will I bruise easier than normal, but those bruises could turn into hematomas or worse, not stop bleeding. At the moment I've got little hematomas on my belly from the heparin (Lovenox) shots I had to give myself when I first got out of the hospital. It, uh, took me a few jabs to remember how to do it. And I have to say, having them on my ass would suck suck suck.

So, you know, hairbrushes and paddles are out. Canes and riding crops are too. And obviously anything that would draw blood is out. I'm thinking that once my INR stabilizes, we can try a belt and the scrap strap. I also have a light 24-inch ruler that would probably be okay.

How long will I have to do this you ask? That's a good question. The absolute minimum is six months. However, the doctor in the hospital, my nurse doing my anti-coagulation therapy, my GP, the nurse-practioner at the anti-coagulation clinic where I had a brief consult -- they've all been preparing me that the rule is generally two PEs and it's lifetime anti-coagulation.

Yeah.

It's not a definite life-time sentence yet because we don't know why I got the PEs this time. The uro-gynecologist is going to do a second cystoscopy to rule out again that there isn't anything in my bladder that could have caused it. I'm also being sent to a hematologist to see if I have some sort of blood disorder that caused it.

But I'll be honest with you all; I'm really scared. My spanking kink as I know it is in serious danger. It seems so trivial compared to, you know, blood clots in my lungs. And trust me, I'm so very grateful for life and for whoever that radiologist was who took a second look at my CT scan and found the PE. I know that had he or she missed it, I might very well not be here blogging about losing spanking. And, well, it's not like all spanking is out.

Yet I know now that I was wrong last December when I said that I've never really felt that loss of control during spanking. I know now that's a huge part of it. Him deciding when to spank me. What to use. How long it will be. How hard it will be. That feeling that I can't take anymore spanks but having no choice. Now I have to be completely in charge. I have say if it's okay to spank me. I have to tell him if it's too hard. What implement is appropriate or not. And it will never be hard enough to really hurt, even if it might scratch that itch a bit.

It's like telling a vanilla person they might never be able to have sex again. Just a bit of masturbation and fingering.

Yes, there are other things. Bondage. Figging. Enemas. Writing lines. Standing in the corner. The herbs that flavor the soup (either in fantasy or in reality). A soup of just herbs, however, doesn't really taste all that good, nor does it really fill you up.

I dunno. It's just...it's hard.

Yesterday my INR was 1.2. Not very good for preventing clots, but made for safer spanking. So I poked A. a few times as we cuddled in bed. Intentionally bumped him while he played pinball on the laptop in bed. The poor dear. I keep trying to brat him when all he wants to do is cuddle and caress me. He finally gave me a few swats as he groped my ass. After I suggested a couple of times that it might work better if I were over his lap, he relented and pulled me over. Swatted me over my jammies. Then pulled those down and swatted my white cotton panties. Then pulled those down and swatted my bare bottom. Firm but restrained smacks that gave me a bit of a tingle. He ended with "six of the best" just because. The hypervigilant patient in me worried that maybe they were too hard. The rest of me wished so much that they could be so much harder.

If only it were a UTI...

I need to start wishing my worst case scenarios would happen.

Seven years ago when I had to have surgery on my knee and ankle, my worst case scenario was that I'd be on crutches for three weeks. Instead I ended up with blood clots in my leg and lungs and hemorrhaging on the anti-coagulants, etc.

A. is arriving on Wednesday and my worse case scenario for his arrival was that I'd get another UTI about the time he got here. Instead my trip to the ER on Wednesday for stomach pain since Monday ended up with a diagnosis of blood clots in both lungs and fluid in my left lung that was pressing down on my diaphragm.

Needless to say, blood thinners don't make for good spanking fun.

Dominant Masters for Newbies

paulsez » This week’s best seller

OMG...so so so funny. I mean, my-ribs-are-sore funny.

It's a context thing

A few days back Adele Haze offered a bit more insight regarding my annoyance when total strangers tell me I need to be spanked. She pointed out that just because a women writes about sex doesn't mean she's asking to be treated crudely. And basically, if you're an ass to a woman, you're less likely to spank her ass.

However she also made a point that I've been pondering too, namely, that men say a lot of bizarre and obnoxious stuff, with statements regarding my need for a spanking being fairly tame. And it's true. I had a guy a few weeks back who sent me an email saying that he likes to read my blog and jack off. My reaction was sorta okay...eww...

I think most people would agree he was being crude and generally most guys are not only not that openly vulgar to women but have a certain level of disdain for men who are. Yet my experience among spanko males is that many don't have the same level of discomfort in being so forward regarding telling a woman with whom they have no relationship that she needs to be spanked. And it's a lack of general disapproval of such indiscretion that bothers me.

But that's still not quite it exactly. There's something else I just couldn't put my finger on.

So I kept thinking.

Then I realized that there's a part of me that really hates that I like this whole spanking thing. She sort of puts up with it because she's convinced herself -- and not without merit -- that this is an act of radical sexual expression and liberation. Which, of course, it is. But something happens at that moment a guy I don't know (and some who I do know) says to me "you need to be spanked" in which the Appalled Feminist and the Cheeky Brat come together in perfect harmony, with the Cheeky Brat thinking nuh uh and the Appalled Feminist thinking fuck off, dickhead.

And it all comes down to context.

When A. tells me I need to be spanked, it's totally erotic. But that's because there's already established chemistry there.

When spanko friends say it to me, there's generally already an established relationship of mutual respect in which I know they have regard for me in my totality -- beyond being just some brat who needs to be taken in hand. It's playful. It's safe.

When someone who doesn't have regard for me in my totality says it, my Appalled Feminist and Cheeky Brat come together to protect me. And they are all the more vigilant because that boundary gets crossed far more often by Mr. Dimwit Spanko than by Mr. Wanker.

The List

A long time ago I promised to post a list of all the things I've been spanked with. Here they are in the order I remembered them in (i.e. mostly random). There are links to some moments in which these implements have been used, or in one case to what it looks like as it was used on me before I was blogging. The ones with no link are also ante-blogging.

Hand

Belt

Paddle

• Wooden


• Rubber

Electrical Cord

Wooden Spoon

Spatula

• Plastic

• Rubber

• Metal

• Wooden

Frying Pan

Cutting Board

Leek

Scrap Strap

Razor Strop

Sjambok

Dog lead/leash

Riding Crop

Cane

• Rattan

• Bamboo

Tawse

Punishment Stick

Switch

Fly Swatter (both ends -- the wire end gave me welts!)

Remote Control

Complete Works of Shakespeare Vol. 2: Histories (quite thudy)

Hairbrush

Clothesbrush (I think that's actually what we've been using whenever
bathbrush is mentioned)

Bathbrush (way before I was blogging)

Ruler

Slipper (Men's from Marks and Spencer -- can't find a pic at their site. )

Shoe (what the Brits refer to as a "slipper" and something A. got five times when he was a cheeky lad in primary school)

Sandal

Coat Hanger


Yeah, I think that's about it...

If you ever have to write lines...

Check this out.

Scroll down and you can have it generate your lines too.

Appropriately enough, I learned about this from a bloggy-friend who is a nun (and who probably wouldn't appreciate a link from here lol). Though she was writing lines cause she was naughty (hadn't graded papers).

Garden cane memories

This post of Abel's over at The Spanking Writers brought back a happy, painful memory.

Abel writes about clearing out a window-sill garden and before throwing out a deceased orchid, noticing it had been propped up by "a rather nice cane." And as you might imagine, the business end of that cane finds its way to Haron's backside.

I got a bamboo garden cane "just because I was there" too. We were housesitting for A.'s brother and he found it in the back garden. And like he does whenever he finds something he can pervert, he immediately had to try it on me. Though since the back garden is rather public to the adjoining terraces, it was with my trousers up. (At least I think they were. I have a vague memory of complaining that "people will see" but I don't remember if it was one of those moments where I was feeling particularly brave.)

Later that night when I had been really bratty (you're shocked now, I'm sure) he used it on my bare backside. Ouch indeed.

Though I still think rattan is more ouchie. It's definitely more stingy. A local friend of mine used a thicker bamboo cane on me later and broke the thing on me after a good 70 strokes. I mean, it did hurt, just not with the intensity that I've now come to associate with a whippy rattan cane.

"You need a spanking"

Optimism is such a wonderful thing.

I mean, consider the cool confidence of the fellow who left me an offline message on Yahoo messenger the other day that went something like, "Hi/ I saw your blog/ You do need a spanking."

Blind to the fact that as a total stranger, that's not really his call. Completely oblivious that he's flirting with someone else's girlfriend. He just leaves his witty, remarkably original message believing that I'll be so overwhelmed by his charm I'll reply back.

Okay, yes, I did mention in the last post that I'm in my insatiable pain slut mood, so I'll grant him that physiologically I'm desperate for a good caning.

He's not the first total stranger in my spanko life who's told me I need a spanking. But I gotta say, it's such a total turn off for me. I don't think A. ever said that to me until three or four months into our online relationship. And then it was in a specific context. And even then there was still a teeny tiny part of me that resented it.

Needless to say, when a total stranger says that to me, I really resent it.

I know that for some women it's really hot. And that's totally cool.

But for me, it's like I have to be able to consider you some sort of equal before you can comfortably utter those words to me. And if the first words out of your mouth are those words, then you have clearly demonstrated that you're not.

Deja-vu

Twenty seven days until A. gets here, and I'm in my insatiable pain slut mood. Sorta like last November. Except then, of course, this happened.

My health is still precarious enough that it could happen again. In fact, I'm actually far more tired than I was last November (still spending most days in bed). So I'm trying not to get my hopes up like last time.

One thing is hopeful though. My pelvic pain is at its lowest level in a long, long time -- which is probably why my insatiable pain slut mood has kicked in. And what has been an instrumental part of that reduction of pain? Why, my vibrator of course.

Seriously. The gynecologist recommended it years ago when I was still a good Catholic girl. I was embarrassed to even think about a vibrator then. Now, of course, I own one. And when the uro-gynecologist suggested intravaginal stimulation to help relax the muscles that have been tensed up from two years of persistent urinary tract infections, it occurred to me that my vibrator might just do the trick. When I told my massage therapist about it, she got very serious and said that was a very good idea.

So, you know, just following doctor's orders.

My ass, however, is slightly sore. Before using my vibrator last night, I decided to test out our oak paddle on myself (self-spanking is a little secret of all long-distance relationships). By gawd if I didn't manage to bruise myself.

Cool.

Spanking Art Wiki

There's a Spanking Art Wiki. I've only explored a little bit but...wow.

No misspelled good deed will go unpunished

Well, it will be a month yet before I get punished for it but -- oh the horror! -- I misspelled "birthday" on the naughty birthday card I sent A. today. And he used to edit newspaper copy!

Eeek!

This is going to be bad.

Especially now that he's 40. And old and crochety.

Well, actually, he's always been crochety.

And he's a very crochety editor.

Which leaves me a bit weak in the knees, really -- in more ways than one. :)

A little tidying up

You'll notice a few changes to the left. An updated profile. A couple of new links. Re-arranged headings. And a list of the stories I've posted over the year and half or so of this blog (most of which I first posted to the soc.sexuality.spanking newsgroup a few years earlier).

Hope that adds to your viewing pleasure. :)

"Someone is hitting my butt with something!"

A little quote from the Simpsons:

"Help! Someone is hitting my butt with something! It's a frying pan!"

Ah...so been there, done that.

Sexual submission

We've been having a thread over at soc.sexuality.spanking newsgroup about sexual submission and innate personality traits and someone asked me what I thought makes someone sexually submissive. So here's what I said.

What makes you submissive, or even into spanking (if you prefer it on that basis)?

What makes somebody gay? What makes someone a switch?

Sexuality is an enormously complex phenomena involving neurophysiological aspects, environmental factors, spirtuality -- you name it. Therefore I think it's impossible to state what one thing does it.

Environmentally I grew up in a family and went to schools where spanking was present. But I like spanking and my sister doesn't. What made me go one way and her the other?

My boyfriend claims his desire to dominate sexually has come from growing up with five older sisters. However, because he grew up having to be submissive to women he could have just as easily grown up to express his sexuality in a submissive way. What made him go one way instead of the other?

Now, I do think the way I grew up has flavored the way I express my sexuality. And as I've been reexamining a life that has been very influenced by the Church and the medical profession (due to chronic illness) I am also appreciating there are aspects I don't want to be apart of my sexuality.

For instance, my illness has involved a number of dietary restrictions (at the moment, sugar because of antibiotic-induced yeast infections). While a couple of my fellow bloggers at the Punishment Book have utilized their kink as a means of enforcing dietary restrictions, I know because I grew up as a fat girl who had food frequently withheld as punishment for being something I couldn't help, using the threat of spanking would be an extremely unhealthy thing to add to my relationship with my boyfriend. Food and my relationship to it and my body are something I have to work out on my own and any sort of spanking would just muck up the whole thing for me.

I would also go further and say that I am concerned about the way others who express their sexuality submissively utilize D/s. Like those who say they want a DD relationship with their husband so they'll stop fighting all the time or have stopped fighting after starting one. I feel like this is an unhealthy substitute for developing good interpersonal skills.

I can say that I, and some sexual submissives, can at times lack a certain connection to who they are and therefore exhibit a certain inability to set boundaries or make healthy choices (and I know some sexual dominants who have the EXACT same problem) and being submissive can seem easier because it lets someone else do the thinking for us. I DON'T believe D/s is a good way to deal with this problem. Only I can decide who I am. Only I can develop that sense of self that can provide the foundation for making healthy decisions about boundaries and behavior. Attempting to use D/s to provide that is an ineffective way to learn healthy coping and behavioral skills and can even get in the way of ever doing so.

Ultimately I'm sexually submissive because, well, it's a hell of a lot of fun. :)

Mojo?

Bolten: White House Must Regain Its 'Mojo' - Yahoo! News

Dude, is Josh Bolten reading my blog?

sparkle does and she's picked up my use of "mojo" too.

I'd feel trendy if it wasn't for the fact that I'm shamelessly plagerizing Mike Meyers.

Good spanking bloggers

I haven't been a very good spanking blogger lately. And I can't say that over the last couple of days I've even been in the mood to be spanked for it either.

CFIDS/ME along with an acute infection sucketh mightly.

I am happy to report, however, that some good spanko friends have started their own blog. Yup, Haron and Abel have started the Spanking Writers blog. And they are very good spanking bloggers. Update just about every day. Write witty, thoughtful posts. Lord knows they have had plenty of spanking writing practice as both are well-know spanking story writers. Haron is also, of course, a fellow blogger over at the Punishment Book.

I've also been remiss in failing to mention a blog I found a month or so ago and LOVED: Spanking Model Speaks. Adele Haze is, appropriately enough, a spanking model who talks about life on the other side of the camera -- among other things. She makes me laugh a lot and think a lot too. The best sort of mixture if you ask me.

Right, so there's a bit of reading for you as I return to communing with my pillows.

Oh, and A. bought his plane ticket today and will be here June 7th. Time for my little "my boyfriend's coming" countdown song.

::grin::

Been meaning to post...honest

Sorry to be so quiet of late. Most of my energy has been going toward my non-kink blog, but there have been things I've been meaning to post about here. Like the funny episode of "Everybody Hates Chris" in which he gets suspended from school and is sent to his room when he gets home to wait for his father. Chris Rock explains that meant he was getting a whipping and then describes in a tongue-in-cheek fashion that his father had a glass case in which he kept all the different belts he used for different offences like lying, stealing, getting a girl pregnant and doing drugs (that one was complete with mini gun holster). It totally made me laugh.

A. never uses the belt as punishment for me anymore because he knows I actually like it. And I do. When it first hits my skin, it hurts. But then in a half a second it turns into a very pleasurable sensation. Don't even get me started on the scrap strap (you have to scroll down) from Adam and Gillian's. Mmm...so nice. Well, except after I've been caned. Then...ooof! Boy does it stings!

And speaking of punishment, I've been meaning to post some thoughts on that too. While my spanking mojo is back (well, more or less) my punishment kink is not so much. I'm still working on my thoughts about that though, and I'll probably post that over at the Punishment Book when I do. Don't worry, I link to it from here.

As far as my health is concerned, bad news on that front. The clinic called last Thursday and -- aaarrgghh! -- I have another UTI. Despite all the cranberry juice, cranberry concentrate, and antibiotics, I still got one (and yes, I do know about mannose-d and have used it, but it's only effective for e.coli bacteria and my infections are usually caused by other bacteria). Well, at least they caught it before it got very painful so my mojo hasn't been as affected as before.

Which will hopefully mean A. and I will get to play a bit when he comes in five weeks or so. He's buying the plane ticket this week.

::smile::

"Spank his ass raw"

Every now and then you're going about your normal life when some spanking reference practically grabs you and smacks you in the face.

Such was the case Friday as I was sitting in the waiting area of the acupuncture clinic next door reading the woeful tale of our police chief caught in a Bill O'Reiley-esque sexual harassment scandal (with a little bit of big hair and long-standing black-on-white racial undertones thrown in) in the Portland Tribune.

A mentor of [police chief] Foxworth's and a longtime community activist in Northeast Portland...read the tort claim Wednesday afternoon. He said he felt sick...

"...If it is true, if Derrick was so stupid as to write all this nasty stuff down in an e-mail, I want to bring him over here right this second so I can spank his ass raw."

Now I haven't read the sordid emails, but perhaps that might not be the best disciplinary procedure in this case.

My mojo is back

Yep, I'm still tired as hell and spend most of the day in bed, but laying there gives me plenty of time to fantasize about getting my ass spanked. The current fantasy is actually a fairly severe one and involves me tied the bed and getting it with a riding crop, like in this oldie but goodie. Or maybe even birched.

::Sigh::

I think I need to go back to bed now.

::Grin::

My blog is not a personal ad

Lately I've been getting emails from guys wanting to "correspond" with me. Sometimes they manage to realize my real name is Michelle (listed right under "name" at the left). Sometimes they don't.

First, I have a boyfriend. We're very happy together. Indeed, if you read this blog at all, you would know that.

Second, if you read this blog you would also know that I've been really sick for the last few months. I can barely keep up with email from friends and family. Starting up longstanding correspondences with total strangers is just not going to make it onto my priority list.

Don't get me wrong. I'm really happy that my writing resonates with people, and I'm very happy to discuss specific topics (though I can't always promise I'll be prompt in my reply). If you're a woman, you apparently already know this because when women email me they usually have something specific in mind.

However, if you email me hoping to find a girlfriend, your email is going to be ignored -- at best. If I'm really cranky that day I'll probably tell you to fuck off.

A few things

Okay, gonna try and post this again. Tried to last night but my laptop shut down abruptly when it got too hot (one of the downsides of the Averatec) and I lost the post. Though I had already been online for about four hours, so it was probably some divine way of making me go back to resting (A. will be so pleased).

At any rate, one -- I'm out to my godfather, aka...er, what do you call your gay best friend when you're the hag? He's my godfather because he was my sponsor when I became Catholic six years ago and in the Byzantine rite that makes him very distinctly my godfather (indeed my priest quizzed me about whether or not there was a chance we might get married because that would be "awkward" and involve some sort of dispensation from the bishop). When he came out of the closet a couple of years later, it took our godfather/goddaughter relationship to new levels -- for the best, I believe.

Like many hag/gay guy relationships before the guy realizes he's gay, we tried going out for a bit but, of course, had no sexual chemistry. So we were talking the other night about how neither of us really understood what sexual chemistry was like until we started to explore our sexuality as it was meant to be. And I had to explain that happened for me when I typed "spanking" into Google.

"That's a huge one [fetish]."

Yup, it is indeed.

Second, I just watched All About Eve a few nights back and -- omg -- is the relationship between Margo and Bill not just gushing with spanking tension? You could cut it with the proverbial, cliched old knife. Oh, and brilliant movie by the way. Great writing.

Third, being out a bit more now has bumped up my spanking mojo a bit. The liberation of it all, perhaps? Chatting with him helped me clarify in my mind a bit more how to explain my attraction to the sub-fetish within spanking that is the punishment kink.

However, I've been on the laptop another four hours now after reading email and chatting with A. so I'll have to write more about those thoughts another time.

Race, privilege and spanking

I have so many spanko musings I want to write about as I've been spending a lot of time in bed with nothing to do but think. But I'm still too tired to write much or even talk much so it's going to have just ferment for a bit.

But, I do have a bit of reading for you all. No tests will be forthcoming but comments will get you extra credit. ;)

First off is this article from Alternet about a course on African-American sexuality. Let's face it: most of us blogging or posting to newsgroups about spanking are white. Not all certainly, but...well, the vast majority. And it's something I've found rather curious.

Among his students, he finds that "certain things are considered taboo because they're considered things that white people do. For example, gay and lesbian identity is considered white, introduced to blacks during slavery and not organic to Africa. Religiosity also comes up; sexual practice is conflated with religious prerogatives."

And it's not just us bloggers, most academics studying sexuality are white too.

...a notion prevails that sexuality studies is something that white people do and something that people of color have done to them. This paradigm sets up a power dynamic that can leave people of color dissociated from the sexuality research field.

And we're not just talking about homosexuality or interracial dating. The topic of BDSM is also part of this course on African-American sexuality.

"We've had this motif that runs through the course: It's called power," Baham says. "I ask the students: How about if we play with power? How about if we play with violence? How about if we play with slavery? I talk about BDSM as a political act. [In BDSM], all the issues with gender roles, slavery, violence and power, all of these come to a head...Baham starts by talking about spanking or being spanked as an example of what BDSM can entail. He'll often bring in a guest speaker from the BDSM community. Through these discussions, the students are able to see the potential for BDSM to be, as he puts it, "a redemptive and spiritual act." His students often mention having a slight interest in the topic, but that they don't know what it is and think that it's a "white thing." Despite this, students report that the idea of "doing things that are aggressive or submissive is exciting. There's a tremendous amount of interest, but real lack of information on it," Baham says.

A lot of it reflects white privilege, something most white people don't think about much but something Peggy McIntosh wrote a very famous essay about many years ago in which she listed the various daily effects of white privilege. Now, DarkDaughta has used McIntosh's essay as a template to list the effects of sexual conservatism privilege. As a spanko I found myself nodding frequently as I read through the list. I need to read it a few more times to give a serious review of the post, but I certainly encourage you all to read it as well. Granted, as a spanko I'm often able to blend in with "vanillas" far better than those with more visible sexuality, and I certainly wouldn't consider any oppression I've suffered from because of my sexuality to be near the level that those who are black or gay have suffered (though the "who's suffered more" game is frequently pretty pointless).

And of course, when you mix gender, race and class all up together, it gets really, really interesting.

But at any rate, some stuff I've read recently that pertains to issues surrounding our kink that I thought some of you might find interesting too. If nothing else, it's something to keep you busy until I have the energy to write something of my own.

Maybe?

I think my spanking mojo is coming back. I got that familiar tingle when A. called me a bad girl this afternoon.

Yup. Just maybe it's finally coming back...



P.S. A belated Happy International Women's Day to you all. I should have Blogged Against Sexism here too (I did over at BTS) but as my spanking mojo didn't wake up until this afternoon, I didn't think to do it here. Hope you celebrated the dignity and power of women in many wonderful ways. :)

Still no spanking mojo

Well, I didn't want the month to go by without posting something.

My health is a little bit better. Under the care of the urogynecologists up at Oregon Health Science University, I'm sans UTI for the moment, most likely because they are keeping me on antibiotics indefinitely. Aside from the persistent yeast infections that aggravate my pelvic pain (which all the yogurt, probiotics, garlic supplements, aloe vera juice, caprylic acid, Shen Bai wash, elimination of sugar and yeast, and just about any other home remedy you can think of have not eliminated), my pain level has dropped back down to the point where my narcotic use this month has been about half of what it was last month.

But there hasn't been much sign of my spanking mojo.

Even now that A. has gone back to the U.K. (we kept joking that it'd come back the minute he left).

Yeah, a lot of it is just pain phobia and lack of any sort of a libido. While the bladder pain is mostly gone, my skin is now having problems with heat (I itch like crazy after a hot bath or doing the dishes or now even turning the heat on). I normally have minor problems with eczema but this seems to be different and any friction aggravates it to no end. I see the doctor on Friday to see what fresh hell this is.

However, the issue has been more emotional. I guess it's just that the idea of being controlled, even just for play, isn't at all appealing. Some of that probably does have to do with the lack of control over my body I've had these last several months, though I haven't had a lot of control over my body for years now. And maybe that's just it. I think that lack of control has accumulated to the point where I just feel like rebelling. Of telling those wanting to control me -- doctors, the Church, society -- to fuck off.

And, well, needless to say, it's seeped into my sexuality for the moment.

Now, I've been fantasizing about being spanked just about every day of my life since I was six or so. And not having those familiar fantasies to lull me to sleep at night has been rather disorienting. But, I know that once the dust settles, I'll be back to my naughty little girl self.

In the meantime, I'm sorta coming in touch with my feminist self. Which doesn't bother A. too much. His only request was, "please don't stop shaving your pussy."

Oh what I do for the Patriarchy... ;)

Losing my spanking-mojo

Something I ponder over at the Punishment Book.

For the discreet exhibitionist

eBay: OTK Bumper Stickers - Spanking Over the Knee

A member of our Oregon Spanking yahoo group posted a plug for his International circle-style OTK bumper stickers.

These black & white oval bumper stickers measure 4 inches x 6 inches and are made of top quality vinyl that is resistant to weather, car washes, etc. --- they're not cheap paper decals.

So, you know, if you're having problems finding a partner via chatrooms or just want to flaunt your spanko-ness in a more tasteful way (and hey, what's more tasteful than a bumper sticker, I say), for a mere $2.35 this little label could be gracing your bumper. Er...auto or otherwise.

Taking the plunge

I've been thinking of linking to my non-kink blog for awhile, and since my career is shot at this point (or seriously on hold for awhile), as well as my spanking life rather ephemeral for the time being (yeah, all those spanko cravings are soooo gone and nowhere to be found at the moment), I figured it would give you all something to read (I update that blog several times a week). Granted there aren't a lot of scintillating details. Mostly just the odd musings/rants of a housebound former academic who would say all this stuff to real people if I actually had more contact with them (okay, it's probably a tad more interesting than that though I can't promise just how much more).

In the future I'm going to be writing about my body and how we construct the concept of the body in popular, religious, and medical culture, and at some point my spanking kink is going to come into that. So, rather than spend a lot of time cross-posting and trying to remember what I said where, it felt like a better use of my energy to just direct you all there.

Besides, you clever stalkers out there have probably already figured out how to follow the links from this blog to that blog anyway (here to Mija then to Michelle). And I already outed myself in the comments section of the "Best birthday present of all" post (stupid Blogger won't let me delete the name, though I could delete the comment). So, you know, might as well just take the plunge and do it properly.

Though, not quite brave enough to link from there to here yet.
Oh, and in adding it to the links at the side, I also cleaned up those links and added some that I've been meaning to add for awhile. Enjoy.

Respite

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.

Swell.

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.

To all those morons in IRC chat rooms

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

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.

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.

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.

Sulking

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.

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.

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.

In case you missed it...

...there's a link to that SNL skit with Catherine Zeta Jones getting spanked as well as spanking her groom. You'll need to scroll down to "television" and click on "Spanker's Wedding."

Hat tip to a couple of people on the soc.sexuality.spanking newsgroup who posted this.

For you Colin Firth fans

After watching this movie twice, I have to say that My Life So Far is the perfect movie for you spankos who drool at the thought of being spanked by Colin Firth.

Oh yes.

He plays the eccentric-inventor father of a gazillion kids in a huge house in Scotland ca. late 1920s. While he's definitely NOT Mr. Darcy here -- his character has some definite flaws and, indeed, is a total dick in certain parts of the movie -- he's also the lovable but stern father-figure.

And yep, there's even a spanking scene.

Granted, you only see the shadows as he's using the strap. But ya can't help but get goose-bumps when he lets the smarting lads go with "be lucky I don't use my cane to thrash the both of you!"

OMG

Ya got goose-bumps too, didn't ya?

My pervy family

Like most other families, mine had turkey and pumpkin pie today. But along with these Thanksgiving staples, there was an underlying spanking theme throughout the afternoon.

-- A friend of my mom and my grandma's husband sat trading stories of how they were spanked as kids. The former told the "go cut a switch" story, but with the twist that when he'd come back with a small one, his dad would simply say, "no problem, I've got a back-up" and haul out a huge switch from the closet. Or when he and his siblings got into trouble once, his father lined them up oldest to youngest to spank each of them. "You'd think he'd have gotten tired by the time he got to me and my brother, but instead he was just more pissed off."

-- My six-year old nephew, brother of the spanko nieces I've referred to a few times, pleaded with the above mentioned friend of my mom to be spanked after being tickled. His mother, my sister, sat next to me blushing. "I don't know what it is with my kids always wanting to be spanked."

-- As that sister and I sat perusing the sales papers, I commented that this one piece of exercise equipment looked like some sort of S & M furniture. She laughed and then goes, "how would you know?" I grinned, as she's the one in my family familiar with my proclivities. "Oh, and like you don't know!" her boyfriend exclaimed.

-- Then there's my brother. He's a twenty-year old cutie with Down's Syndrome who seems to have also inherited the BDSM gene. My other sister once caught him tying up all of his stuffed animals when he was younger. Today he found himself bent over the couch at one point, which invited my mother to playfully kick him in the behind. He feigned distress, but when my mom stopped, he went, "again! again!" Later he comes over to me while I'm watching television, bends right over, and in case I haven't figured out what he wants me to do, says "spank me 'Chell."

Yep. Never know whether to be horrified or amused by my pervy family. But certainly there's no doubt where I get my spanko-ness from.

Grandmas can be dangerous

Lordy my grandma is trying to get me in trouble.

I've been slowly feeling better the last few weeks. Last week I was feeling really good after I paid a visit to my acupuncturist/massage therapist/Magic Lady (as A. calls her). I walked five blocks home from the bus stop. Did a load of laundry all by myself (haven't done that since April!). Even made a pumpkin pie. My grandma called me up thrilled to hear I was feeling better and has decided to help pay for me to see the Magic Lady every week.

Of course, she also expressed concern that I not over do it too much. I told her not to worry. I was being careful to do a little bit, then sit and rest for a bit, then do a little bit more, then rest a bit more. "Besides," I explain. "A. has already warned me about over doing it and accompanied that with a look so stern it made it all the way across the Atlantic and the continent to Oregon."

She giggled at that.

So, an hour or so ago she calls me up to discuss arrangments for her to pay for the Magic Lady and when she asks me how I'm feeling, I yawn and say something about being a bit tired as I didn't get enough sleep last week.

"Now, didn't you get a very stern look warning you not to over do it? Hmm?"

I hastily explained that it wasn't because I willfully over did it, just that my brain finally turned on, and I couldn't get it to turn off when I would try and go to sleep.

But in my mind I'm thinking, "geesh, woman, you're going to get me thrashed within an inch of my life!"

Nailed to the ground

I'm not the only one feeling frustrated at the lack of spanking action.

A. had a dream last night that he was spanking me in front of someone with his hand (he doesn't know who or why), but couldn't get any force into the spanks. You know, like those dreams where you're trying to run but your feet seem to be nailed to the ground. At any rate, when he went to get an implement, he woke up.

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.

Un-American naughtiness

My godfather has no idea I have a spanking kink. But he just told me during our phone conversation that I was being very naughty for a sarcastic post I made about the president on my regular blog.

So, of course, I said I would be sure to tell A. so he could make a note of my naughtiness. Which caused my godfather to improvise a version of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town." He's making a list, checking it twice.

::giggle:: He has no idea.

Perhaps A. will make me wear my stars and stripes knickers when he spanks me for this entry...

Starving

O

M

G

My spanko cravings have suddenly turned on like you wouldn't believe.

They wake me up and keep me awake. Distract me from writing or unpacking. Make my daily meditation routine nearly impossible. Indeed, suppressing them is draining away my precious, fledgling energy.

And I've got a whole month to wait until A. is back.

:: sigh::

Gawd is it going to be a looooooong month.

Naughty priest

Nah, not THAT kind.

A chat pal was telling me tonight about a conversation she had with the priest at a wedding she attended this weekend. They sat across from each other at the rehearsal dinner and talked about how they both had problems getting to places on time. "I need a spanking," the priest told her.

Hmm...maybe he should consider joining Opus Dei.

A. tends to think spanking is a good remedy for tardiness too. ::sigh:: Six strokes with the brush for every minute I'm late. And, well, I have to admit, it's pretty damn effective. I haven't been late to a medical appointment in months and months. Granted, Medical Transportation has been taking me to my appointments over the last several months. But even when I've been able to go on my own, I've actually arrived a few minutes early. You know, just to make extra sure I don't get that damn brush. ::shiver::

An afternoon reverie

That child-like part of me has been asserting herself more and more the last few days. Don't know how long it will last as she's been rather ephemeral of late. But right now she feels very palpable.

I want to be mischievous and insolent. Pouty and petulant. Told firmly, though calmly, to behave myself, please. And then when I continue with my impishness, taken firmly, though calmly, by the ear to the bed. Laid over the lap and my trousers and panties taken down. Spanked with crisp, sharp smacks until my bottom is good and red and scalding. Told to stand in the corner and ponder my naughtiness. After a few minutes when I whine, "can I come out yet?" I will be told, "yes, and please bring me the hairbrush." To which I will stamp my foot and cry, "but I already got spanked!" I will then hear, "yes, you did, but clearly it was not enough to change your disposition. Now please bring me the hairbrush or I shall use it on your thighs." I will then scowl so violently at the injustice of it all but do as I am told and present it for use on my already tender behind. And it will come down hard and fast with no pause so that I begin to cry and plead that I will be good. "An apology would be nice," I'll hear, to which I will feel badly that I haven't done so already and quickly say how sorry I am that I was bad. I will be told to return to the corner, where I consider for several moments what a naughty girl I have been and how truly repentant I am. Still sniffling, I will be told I can leave the corner now. "Alright, big cuddle," I will hear and smile with as much energy as I scowled earlier. And cuddle with a contentment to which most people on this planet only aspire .

::happy sigh::

Only 38 more days until A. is back -- the day before my birthday.

Unpacking

Well, all moved in to my new apartment. It's like living in a fort at the moment. Though, my dad unpacked most of my kitchen tonight, so now it's a fort I can walk around in.

Also did a little unpacking tonight of the cyber sort. Turned on my Yahoo Messenger for the first time in a few months to find a number of you, dear readers, have IMed me. I apologize that it took me so long to open it up, but now that I've got my laptop back, I promise to be on Messenger a bit more frequently if any of you want to chat.

Spanking on SNL

My my, now that I've got my laptop back it's like the spanko thoughts are pouring out of me.

Right. So I was watching Saturday Night Live last night. I was getting pretty sleepy and ready to turn it off because most of the sketches hadn't been all that funny, save the first one spoofing Brit Hume and President Bush. When the last skit started with guest host Catherine Zeta Jones and Will Forte playing a bride and groom singing their wedding vows to each other, I wasn't expecting much. But lo and behold, she starts singing about him spanking her ass. He then sings about her spanking him. Then they sing more about spanking and he sings about how she reminds him of his mother (who, along with most of the audience, is absolutely horrified). The bride turns around and bends over slightly so her loving groom can wallop her good (though, it actually looked rather fake). After several swats, he turns and she gives him several good whacks.

My eyes about popped out of my sockets.

Though, it's not the first time I've seen spanking on SNL. I watched the Best of Mike Meyers a few weeks ago (God bless the good folks at Netflix) and in the opening monologue, it shows Norm McDonald with his trousers down being caned while Lorne Michaels watches. Mike Meyers pushes him aside to get his own caning, only to be told by Lorne that when you're a host, you don't have to be caned when you mess up your lines.

My eyes about popped out of my sockets then too.

Though, I've long suspected that Mike Meyers is a total spanko.

Visions of grandeur

Forgot to mention that during our weekly read together of the Observer this morning, I noticed in the story about David Cameron, the wanna be Tory leader, this little gem.

According to interviews yesterday, Cameron is a man who wouldn't smack his children - two-year-old Nancy is sent to stand in the corner instead...

Granted, I don't know too many two-year olds who would actually stay in the corner if made to stand there.

And while I'm not a big fan of smacking kids myself, the image of, say, being the PM's daughter and standing in the corner at 10 Downing Street is rather hot...

Yup

What to do on yet another Sunday afternoon in bed while my dad is busy packing my stuff and doing my laundry? Why, take spanking quizzes of course. And Patty's here pretty much nailed it.


Spanking's on your mind but right now you're
content to wistfully imagine it.


What kind of spanking do you deserve?
brought to you by Quizilla

A little good news

My laptop is fixed! Yay! So now I can snuggle up with it and write about all the spanko thoughts I've had while laying bed.

And I've missed so many. Particularly those related to current events. Like George Bush's note to Condoleeza Rice at the UN asking for permission to pee. A. and I have been wondering whether Condi was a sub or domme. But that note clinched it.

A. is also happy that Angela Merkel became chancellor in Germany. As a former tabloid journalist, he sees great potential with the name Merkel. "Plus," he says, "she is someone else I can fantasise about spanking when her country lurches to the right."

Faith

I so wanna be naughty.

I was reading one of Patty's punishments over at her blog last night and felt intensely jealous. Of course, if I was in the middle of said punishment I wouldn't be jealous at all. Indeed, I'd be thinking something like "what the FUCK was it again that possessed me to WANT this?!"

Yep, the Natty part of me is back. Trouble is, she's living in a body that doesn't want to be mischievous. Or even really has the energy to be. Putting a DVD into the player or my dinner in the microwave -- that I can manage. Throwing the temper tantrums that are building up inside? Well, not really.

Hell, I started writing this post last Friday. It's taken me four days of typing away at it little by little to get it publishable.

My laptop screen was broken a few months ago, so I've got my laptop hooked up to a huge-ass ancient monitor at my desk. Since I can't take it to bed with me, I don't spend as much time on the computer. However, my grandma is paying to get it fixed so hopefully in the next few weeks there'll be more regular posts.

Then again, I am moving next week. Since I can't go to school anymore I can't stay in student housing so I'm moving about 8 blocks away to a nice little studio in a HUD building (Housing and Urban Development). A nice local social service agency is helping me with the move. Hopefully it won't be too bad. (Though if anyone reading this in the Portland area has extra boxes they need to get rid of, drop me an email! I've got 1100 books or so to move and can't have too many boxes at this point.)

But...I HATE BEING SICK!

I HATE BEING IN BED ALL THE TIME!

I HATE THAT I NEVER GET TO GO OUTSIDE EXCEPT TO GO TO DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENTS!

I HATE THAT I DON'T EVEN HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO STAMP MY FOOT, DAMNIT!


Of course, a lot of what I think about in terms of spanking right now makes me miss my boyfriend. The trans-continental thing really really sucks, I have to say. But the other day we were reminiscing about a particularly romantic moment that only other spankos would appreciate. It was a conversation we had not quite three years ago on Yahoo Messenger. At the time, we knew we liked each other, but we had no idea when we were ever going to meet in person. Both of us were living in dire poverty and visiting the other's country wasn't in the plans any time soon. But we did have faith. And in this instance, an exercise book to represent that faith.

Here is the following excerpt from that conversation, a bit cleaned up, though with a "who's on first" sort of feel at times.

A.: Right. I'm just looking at Nick Cohen's traditional end of year quiz
Natty: yeah?
Natty: in the Observer?
A.: yeah
A.: it's always good fun
Natty: I'm on my way...
A.: okay, I imagine the answers are at the bottom
A.: so no peeking
Natty: oh okay
A.: that's an order lady!
Natty: :P
A.: I mean it now
A.: I can tell if you have been cheating
Natty: you think so huh?
A.: well maybe
Natty: he he he
A.: uh don't let that be an incentive to cheat
Natty: lol
A.: you will only be cheating yourself
A.: ;)
Natty: so?
A.: okay, we will do it together
Natty: cool :)
A.: I'll write down our answers
A.: Q1
Natty: Ken Lay...
A.: that must be Enron
A.: and he was the chairman?
Natty: yep
A.: ok
A.: q2
Natty: strawberry
A.: I imagine he did add that
Natty: oh wait that's q#3
Natty: yes to q2
A.: stop jumping and answer q2
Natty: yes
A.: are you looking at the answers?
A.: huh?
Natty: [-(
Natty: lol
A.: so the answer to did he really add...
A.: is strawberry?
A.: lol
Natty: no - it's yes
A.: huh?
A.: huh?
Natty: that's the answer to question 3
Natty: strawberry that is
A.: yep
A.: okay 4
A.: I think that was coconut oil
Natty: papaya, melon and mud...
A.: ah right
A.: q5
Natty: Dick Armey
A.: q6
Natty: the Senate assistant majority leader
A.: right
Natty: 6 -- a paragraph...
A.: q6?
Natty: yep
A.: did it get any coverage?
Natty: not with only a paragraph
A.: how do you know it was a paragraph?
Natty: uh...
A.: okay.. q7
A.: any idea?
Natty: that one is Egypt -- saw that on the news a couple of weeks ago
A.: ah okay
Natty: and actually, that's only one episode of the show
A.: q8
A.: hrm?
A.: around 20-30%?
Natty: no - -I'd say less
A.: yeah?
Natty: less than 10%
A.: okay, pick a number and we will go with that
Natty: uh...8%
A.: LOL
A.: I knew you were going to say 8
Natty: LOL
Natty: and how did you know that??
A.: you
A.: flipping
A.: cheater
Natty: LOL
A.: you were thinking..
A.: now if I say 9, he will guess I'm cheating
A.: yeah?
A.: oh, sorry
A.: It was 8
Natty: no -- because it is 8 percent LOL
Natty: if I said 9 then I'd be wrong... and wouldn't have looked LOL
A.: I scrolled down after q6 and thought it said 9
A.: right, quiz time over lady
Natty: aaawww
A.: well, I did tell you not to peek
A.: and if you're gonna cheat, cheat better
Natty: well... I wouldn't have even thought to if you hadn't said anything...
A.: oh, so it is my fault you cheated?
A.: is it?
Natty: it is indeed
Natty: lol
A.: oooo
A.: you really need your backside tanned, young lady
Natty: nuh uh...
Natty: [-(
A.: nuh uh indeed
A.: you could at lest try to form a coherent sentence
Natty: lol
A.: or even a complete word would be nice
A.: maybe I will teach you one
A.: called 'ouch'
Natty: oh, but words...sentences...they are so overrated...
A.: lol
Natty: ouch?
A.: yes, and maybe get you to say it sixty or seventy times for good measure
Natty: :O
Natty: [gulp]
A.: hrm.. well luckily for you, and your bottom, I am a few thousand miles away
Natty: :D

[momentary pause]

Natty: well, actually, that you are so far away is rather sad...
A.: yes it is
A.: :(
Natty: :(

[another momentary pause]

A.: however, I do have an exercise book by my pc
Natty: okay...
Natty: what does that mean?
A.: and it is turned to a fresh page
A.: oh it is a lined book for writing in
Natty: oh oh -- you mean like a punishment book?
A.: it could act as such, yes
Natty: ohhh
Natty:[gulp]
A.: what is the date today?
Natty: December 29
A.: thank-you
A.: give me a moment and I will scroll up and read your earlier comments
Natty: okay...
Natty: and why do you have to read those?
A.: I want to see how many answers you cheated on
Natty: oh dear...
Natty: well, how do you know?
A.: I will take off the ones I believe you would have known
A.: shhh
A.: give me a moment
Natty: sigh...fine...
A.: okay, I believe you would have know the first three questions anyway
Natty: sure
A.: Q4 was a cheat
A.: as was Q6 and Q8
A.: was Q5 a cheat or did you know the answer to it?
Natty: well...sort of...
Natty: I mean, I wasn't sure specifically but once I saw the answer then I kinda figured
A.: so you would probably have not come up with the name without prompting?
Natty: well...no...
A.: okay, and I suspect Q7 was a cheat as well
Natty: that one actually wasn't at all -- I knew that before I ever looked down
A.: okay, then that is good
A.: otherwise that would have been a cheat and a lie to cover the cheating
A.: okay..your misdemeanor has been entered
Natty: and uh...well...er...uh...Q3 was a cheat too...
A.: and there are 22 lines on this page
A.: well, thank-you for owning up
Natty: :">
A.: I thought you might have remembered that from the article
Natty: nah
Natty: but I figured that's what you were thinking
A.: well, that doesn't affect what I wrote in my entry
Natty: so how many lines did it take up?
A.: I will tell you this time, but this is the only time I will
A.: two
Natty: okay
Natty: :)
A.: and I almost had to start a third line
Natty: you did?
A.: yes
Natty: because of Q3?
A.: no, I had written it up before you told me about Q3
A.: okay, just this once I will tell you what I have written
Natty: okay
Natty: :)
A.: Dec 29: Cheating at a quiz after promising not to. Attempting to justify cheating.
Natty: okay
A.: that is fair, is it not?
Natty: sigh...yeah it is...
A.: yup
Natty: though of course I'm going to try and justify it LOL
A.: trust is very important after all
Natty: true
A.: so you should know that attempting to justify cheating is a punishable offence
Natty: yes Sir...
A.: thank-you
A.: and it will be interesting to see what words keep cropping up in your punishment book
Natty: true
A.: when it is all read out it may sound very bad indeed
Natty: yeah
Natty: I suspect that justifying thing will come up a lot
A.: yes, I do too

Do note that by the time I managed to get to England nine months later, he had lost the punishment book. However, he assured me the other day that he's far more organized now and has a new punishment book should I commit the mortal sin at the moment -- overdoing it. Indeed, I got a look so stern it made it all the way over the Atlantic and across the continent to Oregon when it accompanied his reminder not to over do it upon my feeling a bit better for a few days.

Sigh. So I'm not. I'm being good. Which means it's probably time I got off the computer.

[rolling my eyes]

I can at least manage that act of brattiness still. ;)

"Why is everyone so anti-enema all of a sudden?"

I couldn't help but giggle last Wednesday morning when the medical assistant in the urologist's office asked this question out loud in response to two patients in a row whining about having to have an enema before their medical procedures.

Well, indeed. Why would anyone not want an enema?

(Hit "Keep reading" to continue.)

As you might imagine, the fact that I'm in a urologists office to hear such questions means my health is still pretty shitty. The doctor's assessment last Tuesday was that I have interstitial cystitis and so he proceeded to do something called a DMSO wash. "It'll sting for 15 minutes but then it will numb everything," promised the medical assistant.

Sting was an understatement and it lasted a hell of a lot longer than 15 minutes. After two hours I couldn't even pee and had to head into the emergency room for a catheter and a morphine shot.

"You want the shot in your butt or the front of your thigh?" asked the nurse.

Normally my butt would have won hands down, but that would have meant moving. And pressure on my bladder. So my thigh it was. Ouch.

They sent me home with a catheter and the doctor decided the next morning to leave it in until Friday. Lemme tell ya, life just doesn't get much better than have a bag of piss strapped to your leg. I will never again take for granted that blissful feeling of relief you get after you pee when you've had to go for a really long time.

As it turned out, I still had a UTI, which came as no surprise to me because I managed to get an entirely different UTI a couple of weeks ago while still on antibiotics for the first UTI the week before that. But the urologist usually has about 6 patients waiting for him at any given moment so doesn't really sit down and listen to what's going on. Just assumes a lot because, hey, he's been doing this for 30 years or whatever and doesn't really need you to tell him what's going on because he already knows. That is, until he gets a patient like me whose body doesn't quite cooperate with his assumptions.

So, now I'm on heavy duty antibiotics that make me both very sleepy and very nauseous. The medication they gave me to counter the nausea also makes me very sleepy so I'm sleeping about 15 hours a day or so and during the time that I'm not sleeping I'm barely lucid. Right now is about the time the antibiotic starts to wear off, but I just took my second dose a half an hour ago so I'll probably be in a coma in about 15 minutes. However, I've been trying to type up this post for almost a week now and thought I'd take my few minutes of lucidity to clean it up enough to post already.

Right, so all of this difficulty with...um...elimination along with the fatigue that has been more profound than my normal relapses have reminded me of not quite seven years ago when I had a pulmonary embolism (blood clot in the lung) after having knee and ankle surgery. When I was admitted the hospital, my nurse introduced herself and sternly forbade me to get up to use the bathroom.

"I've had patients say to me that they'd rather die than use a bedpan and sure enough, they get up to go and that clot hits their brain or their heart and they do die before using a bed pan."

Fair enough. I was scared good and proper and used the bed pan without complaint. And was quite happy to graduate to the bedside commode the next day. A friend who was caring for me at the time joked that it was "a big potty chair." I certainly felt a bit like a toddler when the nurse stood me up after doing my business and wiped my backside. I also felt an odd sort of tingle that I now understand was arousal buried beneath a lot of embarrassment and just plain being grossed out by the close proximity to bodily fluid and waste than I was normally accustomed to or wished for.

For the last month or so I've had this odd, empty feeling when it came to my spanko-ness. Certainly pain has been a part of that, as it was last year at this time. While I am normally an insatiable spanko slut, I've had no desire at all to be spanked or to even think about it. However, it's been different than last year in that the child-like part of me -- the "Natty" me -- has barely been around. Usually when I go through a patch of bad health, the child part of me gets very cranky and constantly wants attention. And I try to give that part of me as much attention as I can by reading fun books like Harry Potter, or watching movies like Anne of Green Gables, and eating naughty stuff like ice cream or candy (though I try to get the organic stuff to give myself the illusion that it's not quite as naughty).

Now she sorta comes and goes. I know she'll be back. She came back after the P.E. eventually. And when I do feel little, I find myself thinking a lot about that nurse I had. How wonderful it was to be cared for by someone who wasn't grossed out by the help that I needed. Then I think about A. and how wonderful he's been. How instead of getting tired of me being sick all the time, he just gets sweeter.

Okay, I also took my pain meds along with the antibiotic and nausea medicine so I really am about to crash. Hopefully I'll be able to write a more well-constructed post at the end of the week.