Resistance is futile...but fun

After doing nothing but thinking about spanking for the last two weeks, I finally felt up to getting a half-decent thrashing this afternoon.

It started innocently enough. I was laying on the bed taking a rest. Sleepy but not really sleeping. A. was out on the balcony smoking and also sleepy but not really sleeping. I tend to sleep diagonally but the more I snuggled on the bed, the more my backside came into better and better view of the balcony. Which, um, may have been somewhat on purpose.

Not that it worked immediately. I expected A. to smack my ass as is his Pavlovian response when greeted with a unhindered view of my backside. Instead when he came in from the balcony, he came around to the other side of the bed and sat down next to me. Ah, but then the Pavlovian reflex kicked in: he patted my ass. But before I knew it, he grabbed my shorts and gave me a wedgie.

I was a bit surprised. However, I've been toying lately with the idea of resisting a spanking and indeed tried it out a few days ago when we were both feeling frisky. It turned out to be fun and so I decided I'd take it to the next level today.

"You're mean!" I exclaimed with a scowl after my mock gasp. He responded by giving me an even stronger wedgie and several hard smacks. "Owww -- now you're even meaner!" Immediately my shorts were digging even further into the depths of my crack. This time I reached back and started pulling my shorts out and over my cheeks. It was A.'s turn to let out the mock gasp before pinning my arm down in the small of my back and letting loose a torrid of sharp smacks.

I was not deterred as I continued with my other hand to try and cover my bum. However, he had me pinned down at an awkward angle and the best resistance I could mount was in the form of trying to move my bottom out of the line of fire -- without much success I might add.

"Right, over my knee."

I glared at him and did nothing. Which, of course, resulted in another torrid of sharp smacks followed by a repeat of the earlier command. I glared again and tried to move my bottom but, alas, no luck. He repeated the command a third time and after glaring briefly, as well as assuming he was expecting me to simply lay over his lap from where I was positioned on the left side (meaning he'd be spanking with his left hand rather than his dominant right hand), I decided to take my chances with the left-handed spanking.

It wasn't too bad except that was just the warm up.

"Lay down on the bed," he said as he reached for the strap.

Again, we played the glaring game. I even pulled up my shorts. I considered telling him to "make me," but wasn't sure I was quite strong enough for a wrestling match. With a scowl and a huff I obeyed.

"This first part will be for hesitating when I told you to lay down." He pulled down my shorts. "Then we'll get to the real spanking."

Ugh. I suspect rolling my eyes and groaning didn't help matters at that point. And my oh my is he getting proficient with that strap. Especially right along my crack. Ow.

In fact, I was approaching the tears horizon when he suddenly stopped. Apparently there was a pimple on my bottom that started bleeding. God bless -- I mean, damn those blood thinners!

Not to worry, there are other implements available. He picked up the little cane, aimed it carefully and whipped me along the same spot over and over. At first it wasn't too bad, but the strokes -- and the pain -- accumulated quickly. I tried kicking and wriggling out of the line of fire, but that just seemed to make him annoyed as he went into the kitchen and fetched a wooden spoon.

"Fifteen on each cheek. Count them please."

Now, there are wooden spoons for the kitchen and there are wooden spoons for spanking and the first kind are not necessarily recommended for the latter. Three strokes into the spanking the spoon broke. I cracked up laughing, then whined about how that was my best mixing spoon. A. returned to the kitchen and fetched another, slotted one.

"We'll start from the beginning --"

"Hey! That's not fair!" I turned around to see A. shrug.

"As Newton pointed out, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Therefore your ass clearly broke the spoon. And whenever you break a spoon, the spanking starts over."

"Nuh uh! My ass didn't do anything, it --"

"Newton was a genius. No arguing with geniuses."

"Newton was also a fucking alchemist." I turned around to find A. shaking his head and putting his finger up to his lips motioning that I should be quiet. Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my pillow.

Five strokes in, the second spoon broke.

"Would you just use the damn spoon under the bed instead of ruining all my kitchen spoons?"

What the hell was I saying? That spoon is heavy and hurts like hell!

A. dug through my under-the-bed craft box that has also become our de facto toy box and took out the big heavy spoon.

"Okay, we'll start at five."

That was fair. And then it occurred to me that frequently during a spanking A. will comment on the appropriateness of an apology. Well, why not do it before he asks? And who knows? Maybe I'd get some mercy points...

"I'm sorry."

"Well, I should think so. "

He was at about ten or so when he stopped again because of that bleeding papule -- this time, blood was splattering slightly.

"I'm not sure about this," he said.

"Oh I so cannot be asked to make the decision about whether or not to continue during a spanking," I half joked.

"Oh you're still getting spanked, I just have to figure out the best way to go about this." He paused. "Maybe I'll give you a one-cheek spanking."

"Nooo!" That would just suck way too much. "Can't you just spank lower, or..." I stopped myself before saying on my thighs. Oh my gawd, shut up now!

He figured out how to spank around the bleeding spot and finished off the thirty strokes. Then it was cuddling time.

"You were so overdue there lady."

I was indeed. In fact, it's been a long time since I had that post-spanking glow that has now melted into bruises that I feel every time I sit down. Even that last one I got a month ago didn't mark me much.

A. also suggested during our cuddle that the thrashing I got would teach me not to be so bratty. Actually, I think it's just whetted my appetite. ;-)

No spanking? Isn't this the nineteenth century?

I've been curled up in bed watching Anne of Green Gables tonight. A.'s been paying attention off and on, despite finding out that there isn't any spanking in it. Though it's not for lack of Anne getting into trouble. At one point, Anne is caught reading Ben-Hur during class and told to stay after. She apologizes profusely to Miss Stacey and after saying "I won't touch Ben-Hur for a week as penance," A. laughed.

"It's like, what do I have to do to get a spanking? Isn't this the nineteenth century?"

We both agree Marilla would make a great strict aunt or nanny, though in the book she was rather uncomfortable with spanking. If only she could be converted to the spanko side...

I never read the book until after I watched the Kevin Sullivan movie on the Disney Channel when I was 18 or so. And I remember sort of gasping when I heard Anne say to the train station attendant that she preferred to sit outside because there was "more view for the imagination."

Oh my gosh, somebody else thinks like that? Followed a moment later with, Oh but you're not supposed to say stuff about views for the imagination and sleeping in cherry trees out loud!

What I've always loved about Anne was knowing that I wasn't the only one who lived in my imagination. Who catches the bus a few stops down where there's "more view for the imagination." Or is so often filled with awe at beauty. Or conjures up scenarios of great pathos and romance. Even created my own alter ego with her own wonderful, happier life. Anne was such a kindred spirit.

And yet, just like Anne, the older I got, the more I favored pragmatism over romance. I mean, the world so rarely measures up to my imagination. It's simply easier to be practical rather than be disappointed all the time.

In fact, at times I've even felt frustrated with Anne of Green Gables. How can this girl who was so abused for the first thirteen years of her life end up so unscathed once she moves to Prince Edward Island? Real life is not that tidy. Indeed, it certainly wasn't that tidy for L.M. Montgomery, the woman who wrote the Anne of Green Gables books and herself suffered through depression and an unhappy marriage.

But sometimes it's just nice to escape real life for a few hours on a Saturday night in bed. To live vicariously through Anne and imagine a life of bosom friends and kindred spirits and various predicaments while adorned in dresses with puffed sleeves on an island of stunning physical beauty.

Even if there isn't any spanking.

Brains and bottoms

My brain so wants my bottom to be spanked.

My brain wants to be bratty. Wants me to dress up in my pink dress and pigtails and throw a temper tantrum and be pulled over A.'s lap kicking and screaming and spanked until I'm sobbing.

Or maybe outfit myself in my school uniform, which now includes A.'s old school tie and patch (for real!). And show up late for class and without my lessons prepared so that A. bends me over the desk and canes me severely.

I just wish my bottom -- or rather my body -- would cooperate.

Do any of you ever get like that? Where the spirit is willing, but the flesh is, well, so very weak? Or maybe the other way around?

Back in business

As you can see, the center-aligned problem when viewing this blog through Internet Explorer has been fixed. Thanks to sparkle for steering me in the right direction as to its cause.

No spankings to report as I've been down with another round of infection that acted like a urinary tract infection but this time wasn't. Something appears to be infected down there, but God only knows what. And my GP and I sure wish He'd let us in on the secret.

I have been thinking about spanking, though. Well, at least starting a couple of days ago. Hopefully I'll start blogging about those thoughts soon.

Oh, and a big welcome to all of you visiting from Spanking Blog, where Dan was recently bemused by my being transfixed (briefly!) by lint during a caning. Yes, I admit it. I'm hopelessly neurotic when it comes to a tidy home (well, when I have the energy to be). To the point of getting in trouble.

Technical difficulties

I generally use Mozilla Firefox but today I've been using Internet Explorer only to find to my horror that this blog is center-aligned. Ugh! I'm afraid I'm too drugged up at the moment to figure out what's up (more UTI fun), but I apologize to all of you on IE.

Btw, how long has it been this way?

My inner pain slut is back

Yup.

The day before last A. was waving a moxa stick over some acupuncture points on my low back as instructed by my acupuncturist. Since it was hot, I was only wearing a white tank top and my red cotton panties with the white flowers on them. It's funny because while I own all kinds of thongs, velvet, satin, sheer and crotchless panties, this red cotton pair always makes me feel sexiest.

At any rate, after we finished with the moxa, A. flipped through the channels and settled in to watching First Blood on AMC. I was still laying on the bed in my tank top and red flowery knickers. As we watched John Rambo jump off a cliff and booby trap his way out of the woods past the sheriffs, A. began smacking my ass. At one point I started to move.

"I wouldn't get up if I were you." So ominous. So sexy.

I giggled a little and lay back down. A. tucked my panties in between my cheeks and continued smacking. The big knife and glistening pectorals got the testosterone pumping because during one of the commercials A. stated as he went out to smoke, "when I come back in, you're getting a Rambo spanking."

I thought he was kidding until he started piling up the pillows on the bed upon his return.

He started out with some good hand spanks to warm up. Then moved to the strap. After one cheek got a disproportionate number of smacks, he'd move to the other side of the bed and make sure the other cheek got its fair share. The whacks hurt, but didn't quite feel as overwhelming as before.

But it was during the caning that I realized my pain threshold had come back up. He was slicing away and at one point I realized there was something black on my clean, white sheet. For a moment I became totally transfixed by what turned out to be some sort of lint, oblivious to the fact that a stingy, whippy rattan cane was searing my ass.

Later I even asked him to try out the riding crop.

My blood vessels must be robust indeed as I barely have any bruising at all. Just a little on my right breast from the riding crop.

I kinda want to try out the hairbrush or the paddle next. But then again, not sure if I want those to be allowable again. ;)

Inspiring saints

I get daily readings from the Greek Orthodox archdiocese each day in my email inbox. It includes the epistle and gospel reading of the day, as well as the apolytikion and kontakion (types of hymns) for the saint whose feast day it is.

And -- lordy I'm going to hell -- frequently the biography of the saint so sets off the spanking fantasies for me.

Consider yesterday's - St. Marina:

This Martyr lived during the reign of Claudius II (268-270). She was from Pisidia of Cilicia and was the only daughter of a certain priest of the idols.

On being orphaned by her mother, she was handed over to a certain woman who instructed her in the Faith of Christ. When she was fifteen years old, she was apprehended by the ruler of Olmbrius, and when asked her name, homeland, and faith, she answered: "My name is Marina; I am the offspring of the Pisidia; I call upon the Name of my Lord Jesus Christ." Because of this she endured bonds, imprisonment, and many whippings, and was finally beheaded in the year 270.

You do kinda wonder if whoever put together the lives of the saints had a bit of a BDSM thing going.

Le vice Anglais

T. on the soc.sexuality.spanking newsgroup was playing around with the Google trends function, in which you can see who (i.e. what city) is doing the most searches for a certain topic -- in this case, it was "spanking."

Eight of the top ten were from the UK. Number eight was from Ireland and Number ten was Philadelphia.

They don't call it "Le vice Anglais" for nothing.

And when I typed that phrase into Google, this interesting social history of our kink was at the top of the list.

Though I really wish they would have referenced the bold printed terms. Or just avoided the whole bolding of terms altogether.

Natty's guide to spanking and blood thinners

So you've just found out you or your partner are going to be on blood thinners for awhile. Or even worse, if you're like me you're on them for life. Is it okay to be spanked when you're on blood thinners?

Anticoagulants are not a death sentence to your spanking life, but they do sorta put you on parole.

1. Take your INR into account. Obviously if it's high -- as in 3 or above -- spanking is probably not a good idea.
2. Age is a factor. The hematologist explained to me that the older one gets, the weaker one's blood vessels and the greater the chance for uncontrolled bleeding. As I'm in my early 30s, I'm a bit better off than someone in, say, their 60s.
3. Make sure you're getting plenty of Vitamin C as a lack of it will make your blood vessels more fragile (though be careful not to take too much as that can affect your INR).
4. What works for me may not work for you and what works for you may not work for me. I've been playing for several years before starting anticoagulants again so my backside has had some time to toughen up. On the other hand, seven years ago when I was on anticoagulants, I was bleeding and clotting in ways medical literature says I shouldn't have been. Bodies react differently at different times. If you've never been spanked before and are taking Coumadin, don't start out with a caning or a paddling because you saw that someone else managed it alright. Even if you have been getting spanked for years, it doesn't necessarily mean that a cane or a paddle will be okay. Every body is different. Don't expect yours to be the same as someone else's.
   
5. Remember that Warfarin interacts with at least 186 different foods, drugs, and herbs. Arnica, for instance, is a common herb spankos use that interacts with Warfarin. I don't know how much would be absorbed through the skin in a cream, but again, everybody reacts differently, and it can affect your spanking play. My INR, for instance, shoots through the roof just from drinking a cup of Tension Tamer Celestial Seasoning tea that has some herbs that are theoretically associated with anticoagulation -- licorice, cinnamon, chamomile, ginger. My anticoag nurse thought that there couldn't possibly be enough in a tea bag to make a difference, and unlike their Ginko Biloba tea, there is no warning on the box about drinking it while on anticoagulants, but apparently I'm that sensitive while others are not. A list of drugs and herbs that interact with Warfarin can be found here (another handy site can be found here). My point is that if you've had several glasses of wine, eaten a lot of garlic, red chili peppers, and pineapple, then took some Tylenol for your headache, a heavy spanking session could land you in the emergency room.
6. There is always some risk of uncontrolled bleeding. While it didn't happen because I was spanked, I have hemorrhaged in the past and it was NOT fun (it was in my knee joint and involved IV morphine every twenty minutes and three days in the hospital). The risk of uncontrolled bleeding in the buttocks is substantially less but still there on some level, though you're more likely to develop hematoma nodules (I have some on my belly right now from a month and half ago and while they're not dangerous, I can't imagine wanting to sit on them for a couple of months). Depending on how hard the spanking, and how much (I know a lot of spankos in long distance relationships have a tendency to play a LOT in a short period), you are traumatizing the body to some degree. The more trauma, the more chance of bleeding. Tops have a lot of responsibility in watching what's happening to the bottom they are spanking. Likewise spankees will have to alert their spanker if something out of the ordinary starts happening.

The "cover my ass" note: I'm not a medical doctor and this post should not be construed as medical advice. It's a fricking spanking blog for gawd's sake!

At any rate, here's to many safe and happy spanking!

(This post was inspired and reviewed by Doc Tsai, who has a great spanking site of his own.)

And the window slams shut again

Spending the last three days in bed has reminded me of the following equation:

"Great, rough fucking" + CFIDS/ME = Days of feeling like icky, icky shit

Don't even want to think about sex right now. Not even all that keen about getting spanked either. Though cuddles kick ass.

Guess maybe I need to listen to my nurse more when she talks about me being fragile.

Actually, her comment hit a particularly raw nerve for me. While I'm glad that being on anticoagulants is not affecting my spanking life as much as I had feared, it's still been hard for me to accept that I'm going to have to take this medication for the rest of my life. It is literally rat poison. While the potential for bleeding isn't necessarily as bad as everyone makes out, it's still there and potentially dangerous. Warfarin interacts with 186 different medicines/foods/herbs so that I'm always having to think about what I'm eating, or be very careful about any new medications, herbal supplements, Celestial Seasonings teas, etc. I have to get my blood checked frequently (once a week right now, and then once a month once I'm stabilized -- which, at the rate I'm going, God only knows how long that will take) so that they can titrate the drug appropriately. I'm supposed to wear an ID bracelet stating that I take this medicine so that if I ever, say, got hit by a truck, the paramedics won't start cutting into me. And it makes my complicated health situation REALLY complicated now, especially in regards to treatment. Knowing that it's going to be like this for the rest of my life (and I'm only 33!) is still a bit hard to swallow.

Being so sick over the last several years has meant that I've been made to be painfully aware of how fragile I am. Spanking has been that one thing where, at least when I'm not too sick, I can forget about it for awhile. Indeed, sometimes I look at spanking as an act of defiance, a sort of "fuck you!" to pain and illness. And, of course, there has always been the hope that one day I will be better and not be fragile anymore. Yet now I'm going to be fragile (at least on some level) always.

Ultimately, though, I have to honor that part of me that is fragile. Too often I'm too focused on trying to forget about it rather than integrating it into who I am. It made me wonder about my post last year about spanking and being whole. In a way it's like I've brought spanking to the painful parts of my life, but I haven't really brought the painful parts of my life to spanking. I suppose this is simply a variation on my "letting Natty get spanked" thoughts. It's hard to bring my vulnerable, fragile side to spanking. Frankly, when I'm not ignoring that part of me, I just want to lavish it with lots of cuddles. But is there a place for that fragile part of me within my spanking life?

Hmm...think I'm just sort of rambling tonight.

At any rate, I will say that I love my anticoagulation nurse. She's that perfect mixture of sweet but bossy. On the one hand, she'll teasingly scold me when my hands are too cold or feign sternness when she asks if I'm going to be good today and give her a therapeutic INR. And she always gives me a hug when I leave. Not sure that I really have any spanking fantasies about her, but she does have a lot of those qualities I imagine in a good nanny.

That window opened quickly

So, after posting my post last night, I closed down my laptop, brushed my teeth -- you know, all that stuff you do before going to bed. A. was out on the balcony -- aka his office during the summer -- where he was busy doing football research on his laptop

"I'm going to bed," I said through the screen door. I sorta hung there for a minute watching him.

"You want me to tuck you in?"

"Okay," with unusual meekness. I turned out the light and laid down on the bed. It was warm, so I didn't get under the covers.

"Look at you there." He slapped my bottom as he came over to the bed. "You so want a spanking."

"Nuh uh." Which is, of course, code for "damn right."

Now, I hadn't laid down in bed expecting to get spanked, though as I laid there I was thinking that it might be nice. I was feeling a little bit better than I had earlier in the day. Yet I wasn't sure if physically I was up to it. As soon as A. smacked my ass, I knew I was.

"Let's get these down." He tugged at my lavender jammie bottoms with the sheep, then at my white cotton panties. After giving me a few light smacks, he sat down in the middle of the bed. "I think you need to get over my lap."

And I did.

And I got a good hard spanking. With lots of cuddles and kisses. He'd stroke my hair and then rain down stinging smacks on my sit spot, even going so far as lifting each cheek (yeah my buns are hardly made of steel) and spanking my sensitive skin. It hurt. A lot. And believe it or not, my bedtime pain meds (hydrocodone and oxycodone, among them) had already kicked in. Yikes!

But it was the perfect bedtime spanking. Made me sleep well and wake up feeling good the next day (well, that and some Chinese medicine).

One of the things I got spanked for last week was forgetting to get some condoms at my clinic when I went to get my blood checked. So you can bet I remembered to get some today. Hey, they're free and plentiful. Very plentiful. My nurse got a whole bag of them for me while she was waiting for the doctor to decide what my Coumadin dose should be since my INR was low yet again.

And, you know, they came in handy after my spanking tonight. A. made me dress in my red satin bra and panties covered with a white slip, which he lifted to deliver several solid smacks with the strap between my legs. Then turned me over and landed the strap on my backside. After that it was time for, well, using those condoms.

It was great, rough fucking. Which is just what I needed after getting my blood checked today. My nurse was asking if I'd had any new symptoms and I mentioned that my heart had been doing some weird, fluttering stuff along with an increase in the palpitations I frequently have. There had also been a couple of episodes of mild pain/pressure that went away after a few minutes.

"And you didn't go to the emergency room because...?" K. looked at me sternly.

"Cause it went away after a few minutes," I shrugged.

"Right." She felt my hand and sent me to run it under warm water again to heat it up so she could get plenty of blood from my finger. Later after making my appointment for next week she made me promise if that I had those heart symptoms again I would go to the emergency room. "You're just...I know you're not going to like this word, but, well you're fragile."

Sigh.

Among the many things I love about A. is that he doesn't treat me like I'm going to break. Well, not usually. Granted this last month has been a bit tricky. And tonight he was concerned about having sex since the last time we tried it I had a weird blood pressure fluctuation. But it turned out great. Sure, our buggery plan didn't quite work out. Yet when all else fails, the missionary position gets the job done.

And after the lovemaking, I had to be punished for my sluttiness.

"Go fetch the cane." It was hanging in the bathroom to keep it supple. He whacked my breasts then nodded toward the quilt. "On the bed." I climbed up on all fours, my left arm quivering a bit from the previous workout a few minutes earlier on my back. And my evil lover landed several wicked slices with that cane, particularly on my right cheek. When I looked in the mirror, I had four bright red weals on that right cheek.

Yep. Love it when those windows open back up again.

Waiting for the next window

In the last post I said that A. had decided to spank me every day at 6pm. And he did put that strap and cane to good use for a few days -- especially the strap. Every day I would stop whatever I was doing, take down my trousers and panties, lay on the bed and take my strapping like a good girl. One day he'd even forgotten until I laid down on the bed knicker-less.

I really am such a good girl.

On the fourth of July he let me off as it was a holiday (and he was feeling lazy). Since then I've been sick (which is actually quite normal for me), so not much spanking. Though there have been threats.

When I said something about cutting up a slippery mango in my hand a few days earlier, I was promptly told that if he saw me doing that he'd spank my ass (i.e. knives and anticoagulants don't go well together).

And Friday when I got back from acupuncture and sat half drooling on myself from exhaustion he told me to go to bed. I said something about needing to go talk to the neighbor, to which he reiterated that I needed a rest. "Don't make me get out me strap," he said with a grin.

I was feeling better yesterday and was going to get spanked at bedtime since I was napping at six, but for some reason we didn't quite get around to it at bedtime before I fell asleep (though I'd already taken my pain meds so that would probably have been cheating anyway).

And today we were gonna try the 6pm thing, but after I woke up from my afternoon nap I was feeling really icky again. I warned A. to spank me before my nap. You know, take advantage of those windows of opportunity, which have been few and far between this last week, but don't think he was quite in the mood at that moment. Not that another window won't be around soon.

When that window does come, I'll let you know.

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?