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.