Story: Natty Gets a Nanny [F/F ]

Okay, how's this for eroticization of illness? ;)

I've been chipping away at this story for about a year now. Partly because of all the being sick and stuff. But also partly because I'll go through phases where I'll fantasize about enemas but then the phase will be over and the whole idea will really squick me.

It's also been funny to observe Natty and Nanny Bea in the story with the nanny sort of representing my adult self and Natty representing my, well, child-like Natty self. Needless to say, I have a lot of interesting arguments between the two. Lordy, no wonder I'm so sick...

At any rate, enjoy.

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Natty Gets a Nanny [F/F, spanking, thermometer, enema]


Natty's daddy decided that she needed a nanny.

Daddy was often out of town and Natty had a penchant for getting into mischief when left on her own. She was also rather sickly and needed help remembering to take her medicine and eat healthy meals and take a nap and not stay on the computer for too long and go to bed at her appointed bed time. And sometimes she was just plain naughty and refused to stay in bed at all.

So, Daddy put an advertisement in the Nanny Times. Interviewed many, many nannies. Only a very special nanny would be right for his girl.

[....]



Some of the nannies seemed too severe. Natty wasn't a bad girl, just a bit willful and rambunctious at times. She didn't need a concentration camp guard. Indeed, because she was sickly, she needed lots of cuddles and care.

But some of the nannies seemed a bit too lenient. Natty was a smart girl and could argue her way out of just about anything. She needed a wise, firm hand -- preferably a hand with a hairbrush.

When Daddy interviewed Beatrice Seymour, he decided that she was the perfect nanny for Natty. A tall, thick, middle-aged woman with a warm smile, she was the perfect mixture of tender caregiver and traditional disciplinarian.

"I see here that you used to be a nurse," Daddy said as he held her resume.

"Yes, for twenty years. Though, I should warn you that some of my methods are a bit out-of-style these days. I think people rely far too much on pills alone, if you know what I mean."

"Indeed. Often the old tried and true remedies are the best."

"Well, I think so," said Nanny Bea.

So, it was settled. Nanny Bea began as Natty's nanny that night, which was good because Daddy had to leave that afternoon to go far far away.

At 9 pm she told Natty to take her medicine and brush her teeth and put on her jimjams. It was hours earlier than Natty normally went to bed, but she was tired that night anyway. Once she snuggled under the covers, Nanny Bea read to Natty until she fell asleep. Kissed her on the forehead and turned out the light.

The next morning Natty couldn't help but scowl when Nanny Bea made her porridge for breakfast -- a thin gruel of rice, oats, and barley. No cinnamon toast or eggs and sausage or pancakes with maple syrup. And certainly no ice cream.

"It's what the Chinese eat for breakfast," said Nanny Bea. "They call it 'congee' or 'jook' and believe that the longer it simmers the more powerful it gets. I started it in the crock pot last night. This particular one is good for building your qi."

"But I'm not Chinese," mumbled Natty.

"No, you're not, but you could stand for a little more qi," said Nanny Bea.

"But can't I get it from Cheerios? Even Raisin Bran is better than this."

Nanny Bea smiled.

"Eat your porridge, please."

So Natty did, but felt sulky. Though, she did admit to herself that it was sorta cool pretending to be Chinese.

Later that day, Nanny Bea made sure Natty did her physical therapy exercises. She also made Natty take a nap in the afternoon and every time Natty got on her laptop, Nanny Bea would set the timer for one hour, after which Natty had to close her laptop and lay down for at least fifteen minutes. There was lentil soup for lunch and a chicken dish for dinner with something called millet. And lots and lots of vegetables.

When nine o'clock came around again, Nanny Bea announced that it was time to get ready for bed.

"But it's three hours before my bedtime and Daddy always lets me watch South Park reruns at 11."

"Fair enough," said Nanny Bea. "But you can only watch it if you get ready for bed now."

"Okay," agreed Natty, who nodded and headed to the bathroom.

"Natty, dear," started Nanny Bea, who entered the bathroom right behind Natty, "before you take your bath tonight, I want to take your temperature and give your insides a good cleaning out."

Hmm...Natty understood the temperature part. She often had fevers at night. But the cleaning out of her insides had her rather confused. Isn't that what Raisin Bran is for?

"Take down your trousers and panties and lay over my lap, please." Nanny Bea sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

Natty gasped. That was how Daddy spanked her!

"But I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Of course not, dear. I just want to take your temperature."

"That way? But I'm not a baby! I can hold it in my mouth just fine."

"Rectal temperatures are more accurate," Nanny Bea said calmly. "Now please do as I asked."

"No! No! That...that's ridiculous!" Natty stamped her little foot.

"Very well, then." Nanny Bea stood up and grabbed Natty by the arm. "I'll let you think about it in the corner while I get the enema ready."

Enema?!

Natty was so shocked by what she heard that it took her several seconds to realize her nose was pointed at the intersection of two white walls. However, once she realized that Nanny Bea was busy in the bathroom, Natty marched right out of that corner and over to the telephone.

"Daddy, you've hired a mad woman," she said when she heard her daddy's voice on the other line.

"Oh no! What's wrong?"

"First she made me eat this icky porridge for breakfast and now she wants to take my temperature in my bum and give me an enema!"

"Ah, won't do you any harm. Might even do you some good."

"But she wants to stick some pokey glass thing and a rubber hose up my ass!"

"Yes, and you'll let her," he said.

How could he be so completely indifferent to her suffering?

"Well...when that thermometer breaks, and I get mercury poisoning, you'll be sorry!"

Daddy chuckled. Then his voice got very stern. "And if you don't do what Nanny Bea tells you, you'll be very sorry when she gives you a good tanning. And then you'll be even more sorry when I find out that you were a naughty girl and give you a good caning."

Gulp.

Daddy's cane hurt. A lot.

"Yes, Sir," Natty said with a whimper.

"Now, be a good girl and do what Nanny says."

"Yes, Sir."

Natty sighed heavily as she hung up the phone and turned to head back to the corner. Except when she turned around, Nanny Bea was standing there with a hairbrush.

Gulp.

"And what does Daddy have to say?"

Natty swallowed hard. Looked at the floor.

"To be a good girl and do what you say."

"Indeed," said Nanny Bea. "But you didn't do what I said when I told you to stand in the corner, did you?"

Natty shook her head as she stared at the carpet. Nanny Bea sighed.

"Well, I'm sorry it's come to this so quickly, but I suppose that perhaps it's for the best that we established this up front." She grabbed Natty's wrist and led her to the couch. "Take off your trousers and panties and lay over my lap, please."

This time, Natty did as she was told.

"I know it's hard getting used to someone new, with all of the new things they do." Nanny Bea stroked Natty's hair and back. "But I'm only doing all of these new things because I care very much about you and want to do what would be the very healthiest for you."

"Okay," Natty squeaked.

"And because I only do those things that are good for you, I expect your complete obedience, Miss Natty. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Nanny," Natty answered barely above a whisper.

"Good."

Natty Bea placed her left hand in the middle of Natty's back and began peppering her plump bottom with the ebony hairbrush. Rapid fire smacks that had Natty squirming and crying out.

"Now, every night I'm going to take your temperature in this very position," Nanny Bea explained as she smacked her charge. "And then I'm going to give you a spanking to remind you to be a good girl. If you've been a good girl that day, then it will be a very short one, and I will only use my hand." The hard spanks continued to splat against Natty's flesh. "But if you have been naughty, then I will use this hairbrush very hard and for a very long time. Understood?"

"Oh -- OW! OWEE!-- yes, Nanny. OWWW!" Natty curled her toes and shut her eyes very tight.

"And once a week, after I've taken your temperature but before your spanking, I will give you a nice warm enema to make sure you're good and clean inside."

Natty whimpered and covered her face with her hands as Nanny Bea's hairbrush continued it's assault.

"And you will let me take your temperature, as well as take your spanking and enema like a good girl, yes?"

After more whimpering and crying, Natty managed to nod her head and murmur a "yes, Nanny."

"Good. And just for good measure, I'm going to give you several good, hard spanks on your thighs. Your daddy told me this is very effective on you."

"Oh no -- please, no, Nanny!"

But it was a futile plea as Nanny Bea laid ten solid, slightly less forceful spanks on each fleshy thigh. Natty squealed and kicked her legs.

"None of that, please." Nanny Bea gave Natty a stingy tap on her right calf, then returned to give her thighs ten more smacks while Natty howled. "Alright, then. All done."

Natty cried into the sofa cushion as Nanny Bea put the hairbrush on the table, rubbed Natty's blotchy red-purple bottom and thighs and stroked her hair.

"Shhh...it's all over now, dear. I know you'll be a very good girl now."

Once Natty finished crying and was breathing softly again, Nanny Bea led Natty into the bedroom. After assembling a glass thermometer, a tin of salve, and an enema bag on the table next to the bed, she put on a latex glove, sat down on the edge of the bed and laid down a towel.

"Okay, Natty dear. Come lay down on your tummy for me please." Nanny Bea patted the towel. After Natty positioned herself on the bed, Nanny Bea spread Natty's cheeks and dabbed a bit of salve on her bummy hole. Then slid the cold, glass thermometer inside the goo.

It was so pokey. Natty couldn't help but whimper. But Nanny Bea patted her bottom and stroked her hair while waiting until it was time to take the thermometer out.

"Excellent. No fever tonight." Nanny Bea put the thermometer on the table. "Now, I'm going to put my finger inside to help you relax that sphincter muscle a bit. But this time I want you to help me by holding your cheeks open with your hands and pressing down inside as if you're going to poop."

Natty reached back and held her cheeks open as Nanny Bea slathered salve on her latex-covered finger, then circled her finger around Natty's bummy hole. After massaging it a bit, Nanny Bea gently, but firmly pushed her finger inside, causing Natty to let out a soft gasp. Once it was in, however, it didn't hurt like she thought it would.

But it did feel very very weird. And it made Natty whimper.

"Just relax, dear." Nanny Bea caressed Natty's hair.

How do you relax when you've got someone's finger up your butt?

"Take a deep breath and then slowly breath out."

That made her feel a little better.

"Hmm...as I suspected. You can definitely do with a cleaning out." Nanny Bea grabbed the nozzle of the enema bag and put some salve on the end of it. "Okay, now I'm going to put the nozzle in. You keep being a good girl and hold those cheeks for me. "

After a gentle poke, the nozzle rested inside Natty's bummy hole. Natty whimpered some more.

"Alright, you can let go of your cheeks." Nanny Bea tapped Natty's bottom as her cheeks relaxed. Sorta. "I'm going to start the enema now. Once I undo the clip, I'll count to six, then clip the tube, count to ten, then remove the clip again until all the water is inside. If it starts to hurt too much, let me know and I'll pause the flow."

The warm water coming in didn't really hurt, just felt rather peculiar. At first. And then --

"I have to go! I have to go right now!" Natty cried.

"It's alright. Hang on for a few more seconds and it will pass."

So Natty bit her lip and took a breath and waited like Nanny Bea said. But she couldn't help it that she started to cry a little.

"Are you feeling okay now?" Nanny Bea asked a moment later.

"Uh huh," Natty nodded.

"Good girl," said Nanny Bea as she patted Natty's bottom and unclipped the enema tube.

After Nanny Bea filled Natty all up, she removed the nozzle and replaced it with a lubricated plug.

"I want you to hold the water inside for five minutes so it has time to work," she said. "This plug will help you keep it all in there."

And while they waited, Nanny Bea rubbed Natty's back and stroked her hair and told her what a very good girl she had been during her very first enema and that she was very proud of her. It made Natty smile and sigh a happy sigh, even though she still felt very uncomfortable.

"Now after you go potty," Nanny Bea instructed as the five minutes came to an end, "you are not to wipe." Her voice had a certain firmness to it that, while authoritative, was not at all mean. "I will do that for you whenever I give you enema because one, I want to remind you, Miss Natty, that while I'm your nanny, I'm the one in charge of every part of you." Then her voice softened. "And two, because you've had to take care of yourself all by yourself a lot of the time and I know that's really hard. I want you to always remember that I'm here to take care of you no matter how unpleasant or embarrassing it might be. Okay?"

Natty felt her eyes start to water again as she smiled and nodded. It was true. It really is hard to be sick all by yourself.

Nanny Bea then let Natty up and helped her waddle to the bathroom where she removed the plug and -- finally! -- let Natty go potty. While Natty sat on the toilet, Nanny Bea drew her a bath with lots of lavender-smelling bubbles. And when Natty was done, just as she said she would, Nanny Bea wiped Natty's sore bottom with a warm wet washcloth before letting her charge settle into a nice, hot bath.

"Oh!" Natty gasped as the water burned her bottom. "It stings!"

"Well, I should think it will for a few days," Nanny Bea smirked.

And she was right. Natty's bottom was still smarting the next morning as she ate her congee. And in the bath the next night before she got into her jimjams and watched South Park re-runs until bedtime. But it was a good sort of smarting. Just like after Daddy spanked her. A reminder that her new nanny loved her and would always take care of her.

Copyright 2006 Natty

Spanko Calandar

Iris over at the Punishment Book wondered about what dates you could put on a personalized calendar for spankos. Fireman Chris, ever the resourceful fellow, had plenty of suggestions.

Hmm...maybe I should use this as some sort of fundraiser for A.'s plane ticket over for Christmas....

Thankful for my readers

Among a whole lot of reasons to be thankful this Thanksgiving is that I have some very wonderful readers! Thanks for reading and commenting and hanging in with me through illness and vanilla spells and lots and lots of me rambling.

Many blessings to you all!

Story: The Sub Strikes Back

Okay, I'm just reposting this story as I had to delete it when something about it messed up my whole blog last month when I first posted it along with its Short Story Contest second place certificate jpeg. So, here it is again sans jpeg, for you to read and be disturbed by it over and over and over again... ;)

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The Sub Strikes Back (Edge) 497 words [M/F; F/M]


Dennys smelled like cheap coffee, bacon and French fries. It made Dana hungry. Not that her stomach wasn't busy enough with all those damn butterflies.

Her eyes skimmed the booths and tables for a red polo shirt, finally stopping at a middled-aged man with a receding hairline in a far corner.

"James?"

[.....]

Her new disciplinarian bade her to sit down across from him. After a few moments of chit chat and menu-scanning, the waitress came to take their order. Dana ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries.

"Actually," James said to the waitress, "she'll be having the Ceasar's salad." He looked down at Dana. "You said you were having problems with your weight. And clearly you are."

Dana flushed. Sucked in her stomach.

"What are you having, hon?" The waitress looked at Dana.

"The salad," she murmured.

James pursed his lips after the waitress left.

"I'll deal with this later."

When he said stuff like that online or on the phone, it usually made her giddy. But now it gave her a sort of painful, clammy feeling.

Later the salad sloshed uncomfortably as the pillows piled on her bed pressed against Dana's stomach. James rubbed her bare buttocks after smacking them hard for several minutes.

"You're a very bad girl, aren't you?"

Someone else had said that once to Dana while rubbing her bare bottom. When it was not quite as fat and her violated cunt was still bald.

She thought she was going to throw up.

"Bad girls get punished." James took off his belt. "Don't they?"

Dana blinked away the tears that were surfacing.

"Answer me!" James whipped her with the belt. "Bad girls get punished, don't they?"

Dana nodded into the pillows.

"I can't hear you." He slapped the leather on her skin again. "Tell me what happens to bad girls."

A hot feeling started at the base of her spine...That look the waitress gave James, then her. It moved up into her sternum, throughout her chest, arms and finally her stomach.

"I'm not a bad girl." Hushed, yet firm.

"Are you talking back to me?" He lashed Dana's flesh.

"Stop...you have to stop right now..." She paused for a moment. "Red..Red!"

"I don't do safewords," James laughed. "You're being punished. And there are no safewords during a punishment spanking."

Dana turned over onto her back, the belt cutting into the arm she held up to protect herself.

"I said stop!"

"I give the orders. You do what I tell you to do, bitch."

She didn't think. Just kicked. Her foot hitting his testicles. James dropped the belt as he doubled over and Dana scurried to grab it.

"I told you to fucking stop!" she screamed.

She whipped his legs. His ass. His hip. His back. Sobbing, Dana shook her head.

"I'm not a bad girl. I'm not."

Still clutching the belt, she pointed at the door.

"Now get the fuck out of my house before I call the police!"

Copyright 2006 Natty

I'm in trouble

Yep. I so am.

Spank-a-thon

This is very last minute for you folks here in the Portland area but I'm afraid I just got the email telling me about it.

The Portland Leather Alliance is hosting a Vendor Fair and Play Party including a Spank-a-thon at the Ambridge Event Center on 300 NE Multnomah tomorrow, November 18th.

The Vendor Fair is a group of mostly local craftspeople and retailers who come together to sell kinky sexual stuff. They will have Awntie Perv, Kinky Medical, Blade Runner, Boss Bondage, WIAN Studios, Corset Connection, Kinky Celts, Julia, WT Unlimited, Motivational Tools, Loves Leathers, To The Wind Leather, Twisted Toys, Odd a Tees, WolfeBridge Woodwork and more. It begins at noon and goes until 5 pm. Admission is $1.

At the Vendor Fair you can buy tickets for the Play Party, which will be held in 4600 square feet of dungeon space filled with St Andrew's Crosses, Suspension beams, Caning Benches, Spanking horses, a Medical Play area and more. Admission to that is $10 and will be held between 8pm and 1am.

During the Vendor Fair and Play Party, the PLA will be raising money for the Sexual Minority Youth Resource Center with a Spank-a-thon. You'll need a partner, all spanks are with a hand, and you'll need to bring your sponsor sheet to the event. For further information, email rwblount {at} earthlink {dot} net or show up at the Vendors Fair tomorrow.

If A. was here and I wasn't so sick, I'd sooooo be going. I've been to other PLA events before and they are a really great group of people. And what a fun way to raise money!

Oh, and if you can't make it tomorrow but are available for their Holiday Social on December 10th, one of the charities for that event is very near and dear to my heart -- Outside In -- a medical clinic where I've been getting free/low-cost acupuncture for years. It's worth every bit of generosity you can give it.

"Who will be the first one to say the S word?"

That was A.'s question when I told him a little bit ago about my appointment with my anticoagulation nurse this afternoon -- you know, the one I mentioned in this post.

Sometime during the summer I noticed that I would often dress up when I had an appointment with Nurse K. A voice inside my head taunted me with you are so trying to woo her. To which I responded with a sound "am not." Then a few seconds later gasped and went omg, I am!

While I didn't really dress up today -- in fact, I didn't even bother getting out of my jammies, just pulled my sweats on over them -- I did decide that, well, fuck it. Let's just be really provocative and wear my hair in pigtails. So I did. My long, baby fine hair streaming out of two pink hair bands and tangling up with my multi-colored scarf.

The first part of the appointment was all serious with questions about whether or not my immune system can handle a tetanus shot and finding a suitable vein from which to draw blood. The little strips that they usually use to check my clotting time, which simply involves pricking my finger, have been recalled so the last couple of weeks they've had to do an actual blood draw. But, thanks to all my layers under my big black coat keeping me warm (which she said made me look like a penguin) and K.'s skill we managed to get a whole vial on the first stick.

"You're such a good patient," she told me. Which made me smile my good-girl smile.

After scheduling my next appointments (yep, it really is plural), I got ready to go. Gave K. the mandatory hug. Then she started buttoning up my coat.

"You need to stay warm when you go out." She put my hood up. "Do you need this too?"

"Uh, no, I don't think I quite need that," I giggled.

"I know, I know," she said. "'Stop smothering me,' right?"

"Oh, no you're -- "

"Did you want to take this home with you?" K. snapped the rubber tourniquet at me a few times.

"Nah, think I'll let you keep it," I giggled some more. K. got a bit sheepish.

"Don't tell anybody I was doing that! They'll tell me to quit beating the patients!" We both laughed.

Ah...if only... ::grin::

Startled at dictionary.com

So, I was writing an email to A. the other day as part of my recent punishment and started writing the word "gotten." Then wondered if "gotten" was actually a real word. So, I looked it up.

Not only is it a real word, but they even used it in a sentence with spanking. The screen shot is below with my having circled the sentence (which, lemme tell ya, is harder to do in Paint than you might think):

Spanko Blog Delurk Day

Admit it. You love to read spanking blogs. You wander long into the night around the various links on various pages. You read all about our spankings and thoughts on spanking and even read our stories. You come from Germany, Spain, Hungary, even Baghdad and Washington D.C. By the thousands (at least, that's what Stat Counter tells me). But you never comment.

You, my friend, are a lurker.

Which is totally cool. Especially today, as it's your very special day.

Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts had the brilliant idea (as she often does) to make a day just for you. It's your day to stand up -- or just timidly raise your hand -- and share as little or as much as you like about yourself and your kink. We promise we'll be very nice. In fact, you even might make some new friends.

So go ahead. Click the comments section and tell us a little bit about who you are in Rochester, Bayern, Barcelona, London, or Reston -- or where ever you are. :-)

Some naughty thoughts involving nurses

As you might imagine, I spend a lot of time with various medical professionals these days, including nurses.

There was a week last month when I was in and out of the ER twice because of shortness of breath (they finally decided it was bronchitis and the beginnings of asthma). Both times another pulmonary embolism had to be ruled out, which usually involves getting a CT scan with a contrast dye and requires a large needle IV. During the first visit the nurse was hunting for a suitable vein (a rather daunting task at times) and remarked at how fair my skin was. "Oh, you're so gonna need to be careful as you get older that you don't break your skin with tape and stuff." You don't even want to know what my boyfriend does to me, I thought. ::evil grin::

The nurse I see most consistently is K., the one who does my anticoagulation therapy. And while I said awhile back that I didn't have any spanking fantasies about her, that has now changed. I mean, how can it not when at my last appointment she says stuff like "you better behave this week" while hugging me and sending me on my way? If I hadn't been so lethargic that day, I probably would have had some mischievous come back. But, alas, I just mumbled a bland "I'll try."

Indeed, the day after the second trip to the emergency room I was rather hyper in that way little kids are right before they're about to crash (I blame the Albuterol - asthma medicine - they gave me in the ER). Okay, the Laffy Taffy I kept eating all day also probably contributed to my exhausted jitteriness. I imagined Nurse K. catching me with my hand in the bag of Laffy Taffy in the cupboard when I was supposed to be in bed. Telling me that she thought I'd had quite enough of that for one day. Asking me what my discharge instructions were (Rest and avoid stimulants). Asking me if I'd actually been resting (er...um, well, not really, but hey, I did finally put away the clothes my caregiver washed and folded the week before...). Finally sitting down and saying, "alright, over my lap." Then giving me a good, long spanking with a hairbrush.

In reality, I doubt she'd be doing any spanking. This is the same nurse who said I was fragile. In fact, I'm quite sure she'd be horrified to know my boyfriend has beaten me with a riding crop or a wooden spoon while I've been taking Coumadin.

Not that she couldn't wield a wicked wooden spoon herself I'd imagine...

Lordy I so need to finish that nanny story I've been working on since -- omg, it's been a whole year now! How pathetic is THAT?!

Unbearable fantasies?

Lately my fantasies have centered around being given a long, sound spanking with a hairbrush. Hard and rapid fire. And way, way past my breaking point so that I lose my ability to bear the pain and the spanking keeps going. And going. And going some more until I'm well and truly blubbering.

Generally when anybody spanks me, they stop too soon. I'm always what seems like a few more minutes away from the spanking being well beyond what I can endure when it suddenly stops -- well within my ability to process the pain, despite how much it truly does hurt. Once a spanko friend said he could have me crying and begging for the spanking to stop, and I replied honestly and matter-of-factly: your arm will get tired first. He thought I was being cheeky and spanked me some more. But still not any where near enough to make me cry.

Of course, there are some logistical reasons why my fantasy won't work at the moment. My beloved is 5000 miles away. I'm on anti-coagulants and should avoid excessive bruising.

There are also more ambivalent issues, like, I live with a chronic pain condition (Fibromyalgia) in which my brain is not processing pain properly in the first place, and I'm not sure that turning up the amplifier even more is a great idea. I mean, each day I take two separate narcotics, along with a muscle relaxant and an anti seizure medicine just to make life tolerable. The primary muscular-skeletal area (as in, one of several types of pain I live with) in which I'm in pain is my sacro-iliac region - i.e. the middle of my right buttock. Surely spanking can't possibly be a good thing for that -- especially one as awful as what I'm fantasizing about.

Are there just some fantasies that, while having great aesthetic appeal, should just stay fantasy?

Bloody Blogger

Those of you who read this blog via Internet Explorer (personally, I'm partial to Firefox) have not been able to much lately because of some unknown glitch that apparently has involved the post with the story "A Sub Strikes Back." I've deleted that post, as well as the graphics for the "Keep torture for consenting perverts only" post and the post about the movie Another Country. I'll repost the story another day.

Blogger is in the process of upgrading its software, and I have been reticent to switch to the new beta version -- mostly because beta versions are notorious for being buggy and I didn't want the stress. Apparently they've decided that those who fail to "upgrade" are the ones who will suffer the bugs.

Bastards. Never trust a company with the motto, "Don't be evil."

At any rate, a big, big, big thank you to sparkle for taking a look at the source code and finding the offensive post. Also thanks to poiesia who gave me a heads up that something was wrong (the blog always shows up fine in Firefox). I've decided I should probably check on how the blog looks once a week in IE. However, if you all ever notice an abrupt change in appearance and have a moment, feel free to email me heads-up!

Internet luvin

O.

M.

G.

It's internet enabled?

A. and I sooo have to get this. I mean, not that phone D/s isn't fun and all. And there's been an internet element to it as he either sends me emails with instructions for his call, or tells me what to do on the phone and then has me email him with the results.

But the thought of a Rabbit Vibrator that he can control? Oh WOW!

(Hat tip to Pink Bottomed Girls)

One of those sorts of mornings

Some mornings you just wake up and think, "damn I need to be spanked!"

Today is one of those mornings (okay, it's actually afternoon, but morning to me). I'm sitting here at my laptop trying to wake up by reading my emails and eating the chicken tetrazzini Meals on Wheels just delivered, and all I can think about is how nice it would be to get a jolly good thrashing. With a hairbrush preferably.

Sigh.

A. and I did some spanking over the phone the other day, but it's awkward not only for the obvious reasons of angle and difficulty really hitting myself hard enough but also because neither of us can see if and how much I'm bruising. Gawd I really hate Coumadin.

He was successful, however, in causing some delicious discomfort to my, um -- lol I can't hardly say it out loud much less type it! -- well, you know, between the cheeks. First I had to put a little bit of toothpaste there, then insert peeled ginger root. O. M. G! After five or so minutes, I could barely follow any of his other instructions as the sting had become impossible to ignore.

It was absolutely yummy.

What wasn't yummy, though, was that my failure to follow commands meant I ended up with a bar of soap in my mouth. But -- ::evil chuckle:: -- between the soap being right out of the package and my mouth being parched, I really didn't get much soapy taste. He he he...

Right. I need to stop having so many damn doctor's appointments and other medical shit to deal with so I can blog more about spanking.

Yup. Definitely.

Keep torture for consenting perverts only!

I really want to encourage all of you fellow perverts out there to participate in Amnesty International's "The America I Believe In" campaign. While I'll admit to being skeptical about just how much real political effect signing a pledge on a website has, I figure it can't hurt. And the recent Military Commissions Act of 2006 goes against every ideal America is supposed to stand for, as well as a whole host of basic, internationally-agreed upon human rights. It deserves as much condemnation as we can give it.

School canings and a Communist Colin Firth

Just finished watching a brilliant movie, Another Country, set in a British public school during the 1930s. I figured with that sort of setting, there's got to be at least one good caning in it, ya know? And there is, though the way in which it was done - a sort of peer imposed discipline - didn't quite work for me (though I had that most bizarre of spankee thoughts -- hmm...I wonder what it would be like to get caned that hard...wait, no, don't think that and for gawd's sake don't say that to A.!).

What did work for me was Colin Firth as a moralistic, self-righteous Communist spouting off about the bourgeoisie and the proletariat throughout the movie. OMG! Can there be a more dreamy toppish character? ::swoon:: I keep trying to put my finger on just what makes Colin Firth so hot. I mean, he's fairly plain when you compare him to other hot guys. I dunno. I really think it's that he emits some sort of spanko vibe that even non-spanko women find unwittingly appealing and makes those of us who are spankos simply drool.

Spanking and a Communist Colin Firth aside, Another Country really is a great movie in exploring class (again, set in a British public school so class is going to be a central issue) and sexuality (you know, boys having sex with boys but for heaven's sake don't ever get caught). Rupert Everett plays Guy Bennett, a gay schoolboy who later goes on to betray his country as a spy for the Russians (don't worry, I haven't spoiled the plot, you learn that in the first five minutes or so). The film, as the stage play before it, explores the psychology behind how Bennett, based on the real-life Guy Burgess, could come to a point where he would chose to be a traitor.

Interestingly enough, his affair is with a character played by Carey Elewes -- you know, Westley from The Princess Bride. Actually, Another Country is about four years before his "as you wish" days so he's just this cute, freckled-face lad. And being the bad Catholic that I am, I thought it quite apt that he's played both a gay schoolboy and the future Pope John Paul II.

It's funny because movies or books set in lavish school settings always bring out the Lisa Simpson in me. There's more than one scene of Everett and Firth reading or talking in a wood-paneled room with a bay window -- my idea of academic nirvana. Indeed, I remember when I read Catcher in the Rye, I had a hard time finding Holden Caulfield at all sympathetic because all I could think was, "oh boo hoo, you only have access to the best education money can buy and a family home next to Central Park! Gawd it must suck to be you!" (I think you can see where a Communist Colin Firth would be so appealing to me...)

Which reminds me of my last post. I think the reason my spanking life is so unlike spanking fiction is that I'm both "Natty" and Lisa Simpson stuck in the same body. LOL -- hell, that's probably why I'm so sick...

Anti-spanking fiction

Earlier today I was taking the Five Factor Personality quiz that Mija had posted on her blog from awhile back (I'm sooo behind on my blog-reading) and had to kind of laugh at my results on the second factor: conscientiousness.

You have high conscientiousness.
Intelligent and reliable, you tend to succeed in life.
Most things in your life are organized and planned well.
But you borderline on being a total perfectionist.

It's especially funny as just last night I was thinking about how A.'s and my spanking life is sorta anti-spanking fiction. He's the more disorganized, unstructured, "bend the rules" sort, while I'm generally the neat, obedient, anal retentive control freak. I mean, sometimes I'm late for appointments. I can procrastinate at times, which probably contributes to my being late. Well, that and trying to cram way too much into too little time. Every now and then I still get willful when it comes to respecting my physical limitations. But when it comes right down to it, I'm just not really that naughty. Granted, I'm bedridden most of the time so it's not like I really have the opportunity to do much that's naughty. But even when I'm healthy, I'm generally a very good girl.

It's hard to be a good spanko when you're just not really very naughty, ya know?

I dunno. Would I be more naughty if I wasn't sick? Would I have been more like my Allie/Natty alter-ego if my health and childhood environment had been different? There is something in me that innately longs for discipline and yet, in most respects, I am fairly self-disciplined. A part of me that longs to be rambunctious and willful and naughty, that wants candy and ice cream, but another part of me that likes watching PBS and making nice Chinese herbal soups and resting. Was I just my own parent for so long that both the child and the parent are now innate parts of me?

I do know there are naughty aspects of me that I suppress. My inner smart-ass, for instance. Or normal self-indulgence. I'm tactful and empathetic because those were vital survival skills growing up. Yet I do think that I suppress them far too much. Being a bit of an ego-centric bitch would probably be handy at the doctor's office on occasion. However, if I need to stop suppressing them, getting punished for expressing them probably wouldn't be the best course of action. Hmm...maybe I should get punished if don't express them. Maybe knowing that I'm going to be spanked if, say, I'm not assertive with my doctor would be a good thing.

Might have helped me last week when I should have insisted that Dr. H check me for a type of bacterial infection I strongly suspect I might have but instead remained silent because when I mentioned it before he looked at me like I was completely crazy. I was really annoyed with myself later. Even more annoyed with myself a few days after that when the acupuncturist asked why I just didn't insist that he do the blood test. I mumbled something about the test requiring a lot of precautions and stuff, to which she simply shrugged and said it's not that big of a deal for him to manage, which I knew was true.

Believe it or not, I'm actually a lot more assertive than I used to be and that's in large part because of all the health problems since my ill-fated surgery seven years ago. I mean, I actually ask questions now.

But, well, being spanked for not being enough of a smart ass would still make for odd spanking stories.

Primate spanking?

A. and I were just talking and he wondered if primates spank each other. A quick Google search didn't yield much beyond "spanking the monkey" references. Any biologists out there who could provide an answer?

A whole book

Ah, my poor spanking blog has been neglected of late. My DSL was out of service, my nieces came to spend the night and wore me out big time, and I've been distracted by a lengthy, decidedly non-kink discussion over at my vanilla blog regarding the Pope, Islam, and the nature of violence.

Yeah, it's soooo time to get back to spanking.

Since my phone doesn't work when my DSL is down, my mom had to come over last Saturday so that I could use her cell phone to call Qwest. When she did, she brought all five of my sister's kids over, along with her own husband and my 21-year-old brother with Down Syndrome. It made for a full house, or rather, studio apartment. Keeping twin five-year olds quiet was a bit of a job. At one point, my mom's husband was sitting on my bed and looked up at my bookshelf.

"You kids better be good. Your aunt has a whole book on disciplining and punishing."

The book in question was Michel Foucault's Discipline and Punish.

I laughed.

"Yep," he said. "I bet there's all kinds of punishments in there."

Yes. Yes there are. If drawing and quartering is your sort of thing. Well, okay, there is an illustration of a spanking machine.

However, for a history text with juicy spanking details, I prefer Phillippe Aries' Centuries of Childhood. There's a whole chapter on school discipline.

My nieces and nephew hardly needed any disciplining or punishing though as they were nearly perfect angels while I was on the phone.

Really. :)

Random

I swear this assortment of spanking implements on my kitchen counter ended up there in completely random, non-kinky ways.

Really.

The pancake turner I took out last week to lift an omelette off the gridle -- for which is was woefully ineffective. We bought it at the Dollar Store in June, despite A.'s suspicion that its bark was worse than it's bite. He was right. It's also woefully ineffective as a spanking implement. It is helpful, however, in killing cockroaches, which is what I've been using it for lately.

The flyswatter I've been using to kill cockroaches elsewhere in my apartment. Not sure how it made it into the kitchen. If you were able to zoom in on it, you'd see that the top of it is broken after I was spanked with it when A. first found it last summer.

The wooden spoon started out in the toybox/craft box under the bed, then made its appearance in this post when A. broke two of my kitchen wooden spoons on my back side. It was laying on my desk in the kitchen afterward as I tried to decide if I wanted to leave it in the kitchen to replace the broken spoons, or return it to the toybox. The other day I decided to clean off my desk and placed the spoon on the counter during the process.

And then last night I was printing up some photos and grabbed my twenty-four inch ruler, which is always next to my desk, to measure the various frames. It too made it to the counter when I was cleaning up the debris of cutting up pictures to fit into frames.

See. Totally random.