I use formspring to answer questions that are posed by friends, readers, fans, whoever. Today, I checked my inbox and among some sexual questions that I didn’t feel like answering was the following query:
Who are you really?
At first glance, it’s the simplest question possible. I’m Alex, duh. But it came at a poignant moment for me, and it had a positive influence on my thought processes for a while. It’s one of the most important questions one can be asked or ask one’s self and it’s something that has been on my mind quite a bit recently. I’ve gone through a phase where I’ve been less than focused on being my best self. This isn’t to say that I’ve been something other than myself, or that I’ve been bad or awful or something. But when I read my older writing, there’s a difference. It isn’t that I lost something; more that I misplaced it. At worst, I’ve lost a sense of focus. I’ve been withdrawn and going through some things recently, and I’ve started to come out the other side. I know that this is vague, but I’m alright with that.
To answer this question, I could point to my fetlife profile, or post a photo, or do a bunch of other things, but I think what I’ll do is make a list of what I know to be true.
I’ve been kind of a busy bee this past week, and I haven’t had a lot of chances to get blogging done. SAD FACE! Right now, I’m sitting in my car on a break from work, writing this while eating blackberries and almonds for lunch.
Heather and I got A LOT of positive response to our first few publicly available videos. It’s been really lovely to here that people now consider themselves our fans and that people are looking forward to more videos from us. We’ll certainly be working on that over the next few days: we have A LOT of great ideas for videos of all sorts. I was really excited to have this piece about me include on The Spanking Resource and to be listed on Barely Pink’s Tuesday Tingles.
I also received an awesome “Thank you” package from Cane-iac, thanking me for sharing some of my writing on their site. They sent me a Twisted Delrin Loop and three new items that aren’t available on their site yet. They’re all serious business implements, and two of the new ones are colorful and beautiful. All of them are excellently made. I haven’t done any hard play recently because I’m trying to remain unmarked for my trip to LA (I’m heading there primarily to do modeling and I thus far have seven shoots booked. Gotta keep that skin pristine!) but I’m looking forward to getting murdered with them when I get back. I’ll be doing a full post about these awesome new things next week.
Speaking of packages, I sent one to my bestie, ellee, because I found pretty much the best spoons ever in a kitchen store in Sioux Falls:
|Like this post, this photo comes from my car!|
They only had one puppy one, so I got it for myself because I am greedy, but I got ellee the kitty spoon! It’s kinda too bad they didn’t have a bunny one. 😛 The kitty spoon quickly spiraled into a full out care package because buying cute gifts for cute friends is just fun. I then decorated the box and sent it to her husband’s work address. I’m very proud of my coloring skillz so I am uploading some box photos:
I know this isn’t “Alex in Coloringland” so you probably don’t care that much, but I think that I’m awesome.
Finally, I recently purchased a whole pile of different types of bathbrushes to start a “battle of the bathbrushes” series of posts where I find out which ones are the best/worst. I haven’t started this yet because I haven’t had the right combination of bravery and free time. Malignus did, however, hit me on the inner thigh with one of them. He then used a wooden spoon to make “ears” because he was trying to make a Mickey Mouse shape (since the bathbrush mark was perfectly round). It then looked “too much like a kitty or other cute animal” so he “erased it” by hitting me a bunch more times with the bathbrush:
I haven’t been online for a few days. I’ve let messages sit in my email and fetlife inboxes. In fact, until last night, I hadn’t so much as touched my laptop for 72 hours. Now, that’s unusual. Why? Because, first of all, I’m addicted to the internet. Secondly, I love my laptop. It’s the first computer of my very own that has actually worked well. My first two computers (“Lappy” and “The Craptop” respectively) could never do anything right pretty much ever and were in and out of repairs all the time. I bought this machine in 2007 and have never regretted it. With the exception of the power cable that died while I was at my mother’s house over Easter last year and had to be fixed with tape and later replaced and the keys that are missing from my keyboard from over use, nothing has gone wrong with it in the past five years.
|I had trouble color correcting this photo. My computer is actually white and not gross looking.|
This means that my dear Shenandoah Puff Octopus Prime (who still has a shorter name than my legal name!) has never spent the night in the shop, and therefore, the only time I’ve gone this long without using the computer since 2007 was either when I was in the hospital or when Serious_Face grounded me from my computer for four days because I said that I was more interested in looking at this than listen to him talk more about the differences between Greek and Roman coinage. (Men in my life are always over reacting!)
Also, while we’re on the subject of SPOP, this is what the front looks like:
What has been keeping me away from my beloved? I’ve been working (at my job) quite a bit recently, but I’ve been sleeping poorly and constantly feeling run down. I’d come home from work or wake up in the morning and want to do nothing. I spent my free time this weekend entirely lying around and watching TV with Malignus. He even surprised me and came to pick me up from work and take me to go watch a movie and I was like “Just take me home for bed! I am going to die! My legs are going to break off at the knee and that would be sad!” (which made me feel like a total cuntmuffin but was absolutely the truth.)
I felt icky and gross, but I had not yet reached the point of True, Undeniable Sickness®: I still wanted to be spanked. So yesterday, I asked Malignus to spank me before I headed to work and then eagerly climbed over his lap. He spanked me with his hand, which does not mean that he went easy on me. I love hand-spankings because they’re at the very core of my kink and they feel so close and connecting, but in a lot of situations, one sacrifices the amount of hurt for that comfort. Except with Malignus. When he wants to, he makes a hand spanking hurt more than many other people’s best efforts with a hairbrush. This was what happened yesterday: he spanked me crazy hard and fast and left me crying out and gasping. When he stopped, he told me that was my warmup. I had a very scrunchy face. He then did the same thing to my thighs, and told me that was the warmup for my thighs. I was already on the verge of tears (which is really not surprising considering that he’s made me cry with a single swat from a dishtowel) when he directed me to get up and get over the bed. He then proceeded to give me a very quickly paced caning, covering both my bottom and my thighs, which left me crying very hard indeed.
When I sat up next to him to hug him, though, he started hitting the front of my thighs with it, which is a very mean thing to do. I think that the main reason he’s so crazy about hitting the front of my thighs is because he gets to look at my sad and pathetic face while he’s doing it, and because it hurts so much, it’s EXTREMELY sad. He started hitting me a bunch and I sat there crying and sobbing and doing what Ami calls “screaming like a dying monster.” He then stopped and I finished my crying and he would start again to make me cry a bit more. He then gave me the most difficult of instructions ever: “Don’t cry.” He returned to caning my thighs (they weren’t full strokes, mind you, but the amount of sting was ridiculous) and I tried my best not to cry. It didn’t last long, though, because Malignus collapsed on the bed and literally rolled around laughing. Apparently my sad face while trying not to cry was the saddest he’s ever seen me, and it filled his sadistic, little heart with such glee that he was “happier than he’d been in a long time.” We will eventually be recreating this on film for your viewing pleasure. I know it’s been a good scene when it ends with me crying and him grinning uncontrollably. It just makes the world feel right.
I don’t like going to work on the weekends, but the day went by very quickly when I was covered with welts and bruises. I felt warm and safe and loved. That said, impact play actually CAN’T cure all problems (WHO KNEW?!) and about halfway through my shift I started coughing and sniffling. By the time I got home, I felt about half dead. The mystery of why I’ve been so run down was finally solved: I was slowly but surely getting sick.
It’s actually good timing: I’m going away this weekend, so this means that I’ll be better by the time I leave and I won’t be likely to get sick again while I’m there. More details on where I’m going coming soon.
For now, though, I’ve been spending my time coughing and snuggling in bed with my Pikachu. I basically feel like this:
Hopefully, I can get back to my usual posting schedule. If I can stay awake long enough to write.
Sex is pretty much the one topic that I don’t post about. Why not? Because I don’t mix spanking and sex, and I feel like a lame-o posting about something that doesn’t have anything to do with the purpose of this blog. I know a few people who successfully write off-topic posts that are very enjoyable, but I don’t know that I’ve reached the point where I’m good enough to pull that off.
Still, sex has made itself relevant to the conversation recently. I’ll explain how in a moment. First, some background.
*I’m polyamorous. All my relationships are open.
*I’m a pansexual. A person’s genital configuration and gender identity aren’t a factor in whether or not I am attracted to them. Somehow, this does not make it easier for me to get laid in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
*My boyfriend/Dominant/primary Top/HoH/favorite person, Malignus, is an asexual. This means that he is not sexually attracted to anyone. We’re romantically involved. We don’t have sex with each other. We don’t talk about sex. I’m pretty sure he’s never seen me entirely naked (except in photos on the internetz). Because of my strict wiring against mixing sex and spanking, this makes for the ideal relationship of the sort that we have.
*I don’t want to have sex with Malignus. At all. Ever. The fact that we have no sexual interest in one and other is a point of huge comfort for both of us. I get really grossed out when people imply that we’re doing it.
*I am in two other romantic relationships, both with sexual components. My boyfriend is on the West Coast and my girlfriend is on the East Coast. I have not seen either since I left California.
*Compared to other people interested in sex, I have a pretty low sex drive. Compared to my spank drive, I have like, no sex drive. I’d be pretty happy with having sex once every week or two.
*I have not had sex with another person in four months.
Four months got to be a bit much for me, and sex got to be on my brain again. I decided to start looking into finding a sexual partner. This has proved extremely challenging.
Here’s the thing: I want to date outside of the BDSM community here, for two reasons. First of all, I’m really lame and vanilla in bed. I do not like to have sex that hurts, even a little bit. If someone smacks my ass during sex, well, they’ve ruined it. Any accouterments of “the scene” (even dumb, sex store versions of them) just don’t belong with sex for me. Sorrryyyyyy! The second reason is drama. The scene here is my primary social circle. Sex between friends can lead to drama. It is my goal to avoid that at all costs.
Due to the second reason that I’ve listed, I don’t want to date people that I work with. Unfortunately, that leaves me with no other people that I know. So, I did what I did every time I’ve moved to a new city: I started a page on okcupid. In New York and Los Angeles, that quickly produced matches in the 90 percent range with interesting, educated people. I uploaded a quick couple of cell phone photos and started to fill out my page.
|See the watermark? I left that there to prove I’m really on a dating site!|
My page here was kind of like my fetlife profile, only without mention of spanking and way more pretentious/geeky. I’m sure you’re wondering how both those things are possible. I’m not linking to my vanilla identity (even if it doesn’t include my real name at all) here, so you’ll have to use your imaginations. I then answered 75 of the “match questions” in hopes of making the things that are important to me clear.
The site didn’t fail to disappoint me: within 20 minutes of completing this, I got a message from a guy who seemed to be on the opposite side of the fence from me on every issue possible, including things like religion, politics, evolution and birth control. The message simply read “your sexy.” I’ve yet to find any person on there who seems to share any of my actual interests, besides an interest in wanting to have genital contact with another person. How hard is it to find someone who likes Foucault, Terrance Malick, The Mountain Goats, homemade bread or pandas?! I’m not saying I want them all, just one!
The extreme lack of eligible mates in the vanilla dating pool leads me to the main problem, and the reason that I brought the s-word up in the first place. How the hell am I going to find a person outside of the scene who is going to be comfortable with my lifestyle? There’s no way that I can hide it from them. On any given day, I’ve got bruises on my bottom. Furthermore, why would I want to be involved with someone with whom I cannot share this very base part of me? The problem is with finding someone who is willing to accept what I do without wanting to do it with me.
I guess, at the end of the day, I can’t look too hard. My current plan is to consider all my options and not limit myself so much, and be less afraid and more open about who I am with people that I meet. The idea of being more “out” has been pretty appealing to me once I got past the point where I was ashamed of myself as a spanko.
I know that a lot of people don’t have the same sort of arrangement as I do in terms of separating sexual partners and spanking partners, but still: how has dating worked for you, as a spanko? Did your current partner know about your spanko-nature when they got involved with you? How did you bring it up?
Well, talking about sex was awkward. I blushed. The best thing to do when things are awkward is to show the internet your boobs, right?
Today’s Valentine’s day. Both Malignus and I have to work, but we’ll be doing something special earlier in the day. It will probably involve A) romance and B) spanking. Win-win. Expect a more spanking-heavy post tomorrow. 😀
Yesterday was a pretty big day in the house of Malex. (Malex? Malignus + Alex. We made this up during my first visit here when we wanted to name a spreadsheet of our expenses and it kinda stuck. You’re welcome.) Several important things happened. First of all, my (somewhat controversial) post on Tuesday generated a lot of traffic: I reached 592 hits, my highest number in a day ever. Talking about traffic is always a little awkward, because, like talking about how long of a spanking one took, it’s entirely relative to the number of hits one was used to getting previously (HA!). As a frame of reference, I usually get between 200 and 300 page views per day, so this was nearly double that. It pleased me quite a bit.
Secondly, and perhaps more excitingly,
On Monday, Malignus spent the night out of town and I played through part of the second to last dungeon out of my own free will (after I finished eating nachos, Sour Patch Kids and strawberry ice cream for dinner).
On Tuesday, I beat the second to last boss without ever dying, then started the final dungeon. I was clearly getting better .Yesterday, I sat down and finished the ENTIRE REST OF THE GAME. I only died one time when beating the final boss, too. I was super proud of myself for this. In fact, I was almost pissed off that the game had gotten so easy for me right when it was over. Why wasn’t I always this good at it? Lame.
Malignus was clearly proud of me, too. When he got home yesterday, I asked for a spanking to reward me for my hard work. He decided that the most appropriate thing to do would be to beat me with the cable to the Nintendo 64 controller. As hilarious and awesome as that sounded, I was a bit concerned about this idea, for I have heard stories of people being hit with cords and cables that never seem to end with “AND IT WAS AWESOME.”
I know it doesn’t look like much, but holy crap, the cable hurt! I was rolling around on the bed and shouting “I DON’T LIKE THIS! JUST SO YOU KNOW, I DON’T LIKE THIS!”It was not just stingy, it was bitey. Every swat nipped at me. I was totally laughing while crying out though. Too ridiculous.
|My signature scrunchy face|
But, with Ganondorf defeated, peace returned to Hyrule AND my bottom made properly sore, one might think that this story was over. That said, have you ever heard a story from me which just ended when it was supposed to? Of course not! That would be far too convenient and against my luck’s better judgement.
Malignus decided that the only appropriate thing for me to do after having beaten the hardest and most frustrating video game that I’ve ever played in my life was to START PLAYING IT AGAIN FROM THE BEGINNING. I can’t make this stuff up. I seriously considered throwing a giant fit, but A) I’m an adult, B) Malignus is scary and C) I *did* just complain about how it had gotten easy, so I suppose I could live with running through it quickly. So after dinner and with my bottom still sore from the congratulatory beating, I was back in my place in front of the TV, controller in hand.
The problem was, this time I was playing with stricter standards. These do make considerable sense: I’m not learning how to play anymore, so it kind of follows that if I’m dying, I’m just not putting any effort into things. I get it. It’s for my own good and stuff: I just didn’t particularly enjoy it when Malignus made it a rule that every time I let a particular (easy to beat) enemy hit me in the game, he smacked me on my thigh. My bare, inner thigh. In the same place. When I finished the first section of the game, my leg looked like this:
So that’s the end of the story, right? Wrong!
Malignus went into the other room to talk to some other girl on the phone, and I thoroughly iced my poor pathetic thigh while complaining to Ami and anyone else who would listen to me about how much it hurt. When Malignus returned, I made sure to let him know how sore I still was. He responded with “That makes me want to hit you again” and a wicked, sadistic smile.
I shook my head vigorously. “But I’ve just iced it! You can’t hit me when my leg is all iced and cold! Doooooooon’t!” (I’m know, I know. I sometimes toss my dignity to the wind.)
He told me to stand up. I’d changed into my pajama pants while he was on the phone and he told me to come stand in front of him (he was sitting in a chair) and pull my pants down, which I did. He then told me to sit down on the floor facing him, which I also did. “Is it appropriate for you to tell me what to do?” he asked in a dangerously serious voice. When spoken to with that tone, it’s a struggle for me to maintain a full voice. I managed to get out a “No, Sir” without sounding ALL THAT pathetic. Then he smacked my leg again, MUCH harder than he had been doing before. I started to cry, because it hurt like crazy and I’m a total weakling when it comes to the thighs, and I scooted over to where he was sitting and put my head on his lap. He stroked my hair for a moment as I quieted.
He then decided that the best thing to do was to put capsaicin cream on it. I had promised on his birthday not to protest against capsaicin anymore, so I got up and brought it to him. I then spent the entire rest of the night being sad about how much it hurt. Christ, it’s really the worst thing. At best, it makes you unable to avoid feeling the fact that you’ve been spanked. At worst, it feels like you’re going to die by being immolated. It kind of went back and forth between those extremes for the rest of the evening.
Story is still not over.
Now, the other day, Malignus discovered an implement which I had brought back with me from New Jersey which had been previously ignored in favor of heavier artillery. It’s a small, lightweight bamboo spoon. It really doesn’t weigh anything, but it has a good sized spanking surface. I call it “Panda Food” because of the bamboo handle.
On Tuesday night, Malignus gave me my nightly spanking with it and I was extremely surprised by just how awful it was. The thing just. stings. There’s no other way of putting it: there’s no weight to it, and therefore it’s the least thuddy thing I’ve ever been spanked with (even less than a plastic hairbrush). I shudder just thinking about it. I think that many spankees prefer thud because it’s very gratifying– you really can tell that you’ve sustained a heavy impact and it makes you kinda feel like a BAMF. Sting is just surface pain, there’s none of that long, sustained throbbing that comes from the body recognizing injury afterwards. It’s superficial. But it hurts like a total bitch. Malignus has been sure to point out to me that because it causes no real damage, I could be spanked with this spoon all day without any detrimental effects. Except, you know, insanity.
After I spent a while trying to enjoy Star Trek TNG despite the fact that I was in various states of agony, Malignus decided that he wanted to hit me on the thigh AGAIN and that this time, he wanted me to bring him the aforementioned spoon. I was hesitant to do so, but did not protest. Again, I bared my thigh, and this time I buried my face in a pillow. The pain of it made my head explode, pretty much. He hit me more than once, and I found myself rolling around and freaking out. I became so not concerned with my surroundings that I hit my head into the wall a bit, but I didn’t even care. Somehow, I found myself curled up in Malignus’ lap sobbing while he comforted me and reminded me that he loved me and that I’m a very good girl. I know it sounds horrible, and it was, but at the same time, I loved it. I loved how happy indulging his sadism made him. I love being pushed that far. I loved that I had (mostly) accepted something that I hate. Lying there while I regained my calm, I found myself in this sort of otherworldly state of comfort– entirely spent, but the vacant space where all the fight in me had been was filled with a warm and enjoyable sense of comfort.
I really hope you aren’t bored yet. Because there’s more.
Eventually, it became bedtime and therefore, time for me to receive my spanking. Malignus asked me if I still wanted one, but that’s kind of a dumb question. I always want a spanking. Unfortunately, he decided to use that stupid spoon again. I cried from pretty much the start of it because, as previously mentioned, the fight in me was all used up. It hurt like hell and it was a very satisfying and relieving cry. When he’d finished and I’d pulled up my underwear (I’d given up on pajama pants at some point) he decided to give me a good smack on either hand. When those were both done, he grabbed my left hand again and tapped the spoon against my palm. I prepared myself for it, but instead, he hit me on the inside of the elbow. UGGGGGGGGGH! Finally, the night finished up by him grabbing my welted and bruised thigh as hard as he could. Just the grabbing made me burst into tears a final time. This pleased him a great deal, and he laughed and hugged me, obviously very satisfied with himself.
So that was my day yesterday! I kind of want a t-shirt that says “I beat Zelda and all I got were these lousy bruises.”
Note- this entry has very little spanking in it and mostly deals with submission, sadism and video games. Kthnx.
I don’t really remember how the whole thing got started. It had to do with the fact that I made the mistake of bringing my N64 and the combined collection of me and my elder brother’s game cartridges with me when I moved. I had figured that Malignus and I would have fun playing classic games together, that I could play Pokemon Snap, and that there would probably be something in my selection that Malignus would enjoy playing himself.
Little did I know that in that cardboard box, I had packed my new worst enemy in the form of a shiny, gold game cartridge that was once my brother’s.
It turns out that Malignus loves The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time. I had watched my brothers play parts of it when I was a girl, but had found it too frustrating for me and never even maintained a save file. At some point, Malignus got the idea that he was going to make me play it. What started out as a simple assignment quickly turned into a nightmare: I’ve never been worse at anything in my life. I’m not kidding when I say that. Every frustrating thing I’ve ever attempted- learning to drive, doing ballet, jumping hurdles when I ran track and field, learning about Quantum Physics, writing characters in traditional Chinese with a brush and ink- they all pale in comparison to the difficulty that I have with playing Zelda. It’s worse because I’m traditionally a fast study at video games, even those that I don’t like. Yet here are a few scenarios that I’ve run into when playing this one:
* I attempted to get past one hallway which is littered with traps a total of 37 times before I got through.* I prepared for a boss battle by collecting two red fairies (items that let you regain all your life when you die) and having full health and then died entirely before I entered the room. That means that I lost 30 hearts in a single hallway which was supposedly so simple that the people who make walkthroughs for Zelda didn’t even bother to say anything besides “avoid these guys and go in the door.”*I spent a total of two and a half hours attempting to beat a boss that is described in the walkthrough as being able to be beaten in literally less than a minute.*I dedicated three hours to completing one dungeon. At the end of the first half of that time, I had not yet made it past the first of five steps it takes to ENTER said dungeon.
|The Trinity of Terror +1|
The first couple of times that Malignus told me I was going to play Zelda after it was shown just how horrid I am at it, I responded by whining and protesting in a way most out of character for me. This attitude was quickly abandoned when I was asked if I needed a caning to motivate me. Still, there were times when I simply didn’t listen to what he was instructing me to do in the game, or I didn’t try, or I just kept royally failing at things and he decided that I needed that “motivation.” You know what words are always scary?
“I’m getting the cane.”
That can never not be scary. Some very stupid part of me didn’t except Malignus to actually come back with a cane the first time he said that regarding Zelda. I mean, who gets caned over video games? Answer: me. Not only did he come back with one, but he came back with the scariest one I own (pictured above) and gave me a pretty hard stroke with it. He then continued to sit near me waving it back and forth (it’s extremely flexible) and hitting the furniture to “keep me focused.” I guess it kinda worked. I certainly started putting forth full effort. Slowly but surely, putting in an hour or two at a time, I made it through quite a bit of the game. In some ways, I improved, but I remained horribly bad at platforming, dodging traps and fighting bosses.
Yesterday afternoon, Malignus told me to start playing Zelda again and I responded by asking if I could finish something first. I didn’t stop right away when he said “No,” even though we’ve “talked” (I’m sure you understand what that means, right?) about that sort of thing fairly often recently. As a result, I ended up getting sentenced to play through two dungeons of Zelda before bedtime instead of one. Because I’m a highly responsible person, I played until he left for work and then went to the store to get waffles, then played a little more, then talked to a partner, then took a nap, then text messaged Peachy for a while, then talked to Heather online and only started playing with true focus and dedication at 8:30 PM.
I kept playing for the next five hours and I still didn’t finish the amount of game that I’d been told to do. While I played, I felt a flurry of emotions. The primary one was frustration. I was frustrated at the stupid game for being so damn difficult, at Malignus for making me do such a stupid thing, and, more than anything else, at myself for sucking so hard. I nearly broke my controller at least once. I got so pissed off that I started intentionally abusing my horse, Epona, who I had originally promised never to hurt, just to have a vessel for my rage.
At one point, I got so angry about it that I got tears in my eyes. It was then that I had to remember why, exactly, Malignus was having me play Zelda. It wasn’t purely sadism (although I can’t help but believe that it was at least part of it). It was to teach me to persevere without getting angry, to apply the things I already knew about the world to new situations, to use my brain and to be patient. It probably also had to do with time management: something I’d failed at yet again. With this in mind, and with the knowledge that my D/s dynamic is founded around the idea that I may not fail myself, I continued to trudge forward.
When I finally fell asleep at 3:30 this morning, I hadn’t finished the amount of Zelda that I’d been assigned, but I was damn proud of myself for my endurance in making it as far as I did. There’s something very satisfying in giving something, even something that seems dumb, your all. I know that next time won’t be as bad. It’s kind of amazing how horrible/educational everything can be.
Oh, right. I went away to my family’s house for the holidays. Then I came back.
I’m kidding, I’m kidding. There’s more to the story than that!
Being with my family of origin is hard. My mother and I have had a difficult relationship for my entire life. Sometimes I just think I’ll never go visit them again, but since my mother is in poor health and my oldest brother just passed away, I knew it was the right thing to do.
The visit was really stressful, though. My mother and I quarreled a lot, she didn’t let me do anything, she said awkward things all the time (like asking me if I was saving it for marriage!) and I was reminded of all the reasons I left home at such a tender young age in the first place. Plus, I attended my brother’s memorial service, which was extremely bittersweet. I had already found closure for myself, but it hurt to see so many other people suffering and there were instances of prejudice against the HIV positive expressed *during the service* which really boiled my blood.
There were also awkward spanko moments- my family members mainly bought me practical gifts, and practical gifts for a woman tend to be kitchen things where I come from. I got ANOTHER rubber spatula (this one did go in the kitchen, but it was still awkward) and I got another wooden spoon. I have a lot of wooden spoons. Malignus doesn’t like me using them in the kitchen because he doesn’t want them to absorb germs or something like that. Basically, I am pretty sure he just wants to keep them all for spanking me. Besides, the spoon I got from the family is a really beauty from a spanking perspective: nice, long handle, perfectly flat back, smooth, strong beech wood.
|Yep: I’m aware that this is the most ridiculous photo of me I’ve ever posted to this blog!|
Then there was the gift exchange with my cousin, who bought me a set of FIVE hairbrushes. My mom said “Oh good! Alex can really use those! I’ve bought more hairbrushes for that girl than anyone needs in a life time and yet they always end up lost or broken.” Broken, yes, Mom. Into pieces. On my ass. But you don’t need to know that!
Then there was the awkward conversation in which my surviving brother attempted to convince me that I should use a bathbrush in the shower because they feel really nice and offered to buy me one. No. Bathbrushes DO NOT feel really nice. They feel like death. Like every swat is taking minutes off my lifespan. I don’t care how they feel in the shower: if it’s in my shower, it’s in my house and THAT’S BAD!
Finally, there were the little things: the fact that I notice awkward spanking related things EVERYWHERE and want to giggle or make an awkward face and can’t in vanilla company:
|I’m wearing these to get spanked sometime!|
Beside all this, I had trouble sleeping and I really missed Malignus. It certainly made me appreciate just how wonderful my life here is, though. I’m able to truly be myself at all times and I’m with someone who loves me for exactly that, not for who I pretend to be or who I change myself into. That in and of itself is more than I ever dreamed of. Add in the fact that we have a lot of fun together, I get to cook and clean, and I get a good spanking almost every day and I’m made aware that I’m pretty much the luckiest girl in Spankingland.
Coming home on Tuesday to this was just lovely. There really aren’t words for how nice it was. When I was a girl and I was obsessed with Roald Dahl’s book, Boy, there was a section that I enjoyed that didn’t have any beatings in it. This was where Dahl discussed the joy of going home from school for the summer holidays. I specifically remember him saying something along the lines of “The feeling is incredible and can’t be understood except by someone who has lived in an oppressive environment and then gone back to a place of freedom. It was almost worth going away to school just to experience the joy of being away from it.” I always liked imagining what that would be like: to leave my normal and unenjoyable childhood and go to a place of freedom. Leaving my family’s home to go back to my new adult life reminded me of that. It’s a very pleasant thing, getting to experience the stuff you’ve always wanted! 😀
On Tuesday, after Malignus picked me up from the airport, we got a pizza and went home to watch the first two Rocky movies (which I’d never seen before, despite being a film aficionado.) After the second movie, it was late and I was tired, plus I still had a lot of residual stress from the past week built up in my system. I asked Malignus is he was going to spank me that night, since I usually go across his lap before going to bed, and he said “a little bit.” I was kind of imagining a firm but not miserable hand-spanking based on that response. I was alright with that: I hadn’t been spanked for nine whole days! Better ease back into it, right?
Then I saw him coming into the bedroom with my new spoon. He had swatted me with it earlier and it had made me howl. My stomach dropped. This reflected in a very sad look on my face. Malignus asked me if I was scared about how much the spanking would hurt and I replied that I was. “You should be,” he said. He’s very encouraging. 😛
I bared my bottom and got in position over his lap and he asked me if I wanted a warm up. I gave the most heartfelt and earnest rendition of “Yes, please, Sir!” ever heard by man, I’m pretty sure. Warmups are kind of a luxury for me, and I hadn’t really been expecting one, but the idea sounded so nice.
Then Malignus said “Too bad!” and started laying into me. Then I started howling. It would probably not have been a very pretty thing to listen to. The stupid thing was agonizingly painful and it kept falling with an extremely fast pacing. It hurt so much that I very quickly began to sob. The spanking just kept going, though, without any sign that the pace was slowing. He spanked me very thoroughly: as is usual, he didn’t spare my thighs in the least, and this time he put considerable time and attention into beating my sit-spots. He eventually stopped with the spoon and spent a while spanking me firmly but much more slowly with his hand while my cries began to quiet. It took me a little bit after the spanking finished to stop crying, but my stress and tension had been replaced with a remarkable sense of calm and security. Laying over the lap of the man I love with a bruised, swollen bottom throbbing with pain, I felt like I had no reason to be anything but content and joyful. Very shortly thereafter, I lay in bed with my head resting on his chest and fell asleep.
Because I went directly to bed, I did not photograph my butt when it was properly marked, but I woke up looking like this:
Among all my other endeavors, I recently began working in retail. One would imagine that working in retail would have nothing to do with the subject of this blog, aside from the fact that the store in which I’m employed sells wooden spoons, rubber spatulas, hairbrushes, bath brushes and decorative bundles of bamboo rods. Originally, I felt slightly embarrassed whenever someone purchased one of these items, and I was much more uncomfortable if they came through the line to buy one of those things and nothing else, but it wasn’t noteworthy. Let’s face it: I’ve got spanking on the brain all the time, and any indicator that a stranger knows what I’m thinking about makes me feel paranoid and terrified, so these little discomforts were no different than my daily life has been for as long as I can remember. There was one awkward incident where a woman came into the line with two spoons and asked me which one I thought was “sturdier,” and that was particularly awkward for me because I could give a very thorough answer indeed if I had wanted to, but I figured that was as bad as things would ever become there.
One day in the middle of December we selected names for our Secret Santas and I thought nothing of it, besides the fact that I am generally not particularly good at gift giving, especially when it comes to strangers. The first Friday arrived and I dropped off my gift in the break room. During my lunch, later, I found a package marked “ALEX” sitting on the table there and, while several of my coworkers watched, I opened it up.
It was a rubber spatula.
Now, several people to whom I’ve recounted this story have responded that there’s nothing abnormal about giving someone a spatula, but you have to admit that it’s a very weird gift, especially when there was nothing else with it. If it was part of a baking related set, or if any of my coworkers at the time were aware of the fact that I was fond of domesticity then it might have been acceptable. It could conceivably have just been a totally random gift. I guess it does have a nice green color.
It didn’t matter what the giver’s intention was. I turned bright red, despite my best efforts to play it off. For my entire life, I’ve been paranoid that people look at me and can tell that I’m a spanko, and this seemed like some kind of terribly cruel evidence that this is the case. I hid the spatula in my locker for about a week before I felt brave enough to bring it home, and when I did, I threw it in the pile of implements in the bedroom because I couldn’t imagine myself using it for cooking. It has yet to see any kind of use.
I would have greatly enjoyed if this was the end of my work related spanking stories, but alas, this is not the case. About a week before I went away for the holidays, I received a particularly hard spanking. I had a large and extremely tender bruise on the lower part of my bottom on the right side and on the top of my right thigh. Perhaps my least favorite thing about this particular job is the fact that I have to wear pants while working (which is the subject of a whole other post entirely) and said pants are extremely uncomfortable against a sore bottom. The day after this spanking, I was walking through work and trying to pretend that every step I took didn’t feel like someone was tightly grabbing my bruises and rubbing them with sandpaper. While doing this, I ran into my favorite coworker. He’s a bit older than I am, physically attractive, educated, witty, clever and amusingly bossy towards me. I’ve harbored fantasies that the rubber spatula came from him because he’s secretly a spanko, too, but I also know that my amazing luck for meeting awesome spankos in vanilla life isn’t going to last forever and that’s probably not the case.
This particular day, my coworker asked me to do him a favor which, being the polite and helpful girl I am at all times, I sarcastically refused and instead stuck my tongue out at him. I was, however, not expecting what happened next. My coworker gripped me by the shoulders, spun me around and gave me a playful but firm swat on the backside. By sadistic luck, he hit me directly on my bruise and I let out a yelp.
I knew that I had technically been sexually harassed, and I was hugely embarrassed by the fact that it happened, but on some level, I was rather pleased about it. As long as no one had seen, I saw no reason why it should ever be brought up again, since it clearly did me no harm and was meant in good fun.
Unfortunately again, someone did see. A coworker reported it, and the two of us got called into the main office and scolded about sexual harassment and how I should have reported it straight away and how “spanking is not appropriate for the work place.” I nearly died.
Because this story involves me, however, it gets worse. The whole thing was not a particularly private ordeal. Several people knew about what happened, it turns out, and they all talked to their friends and soon I overheard someone saying “Alex? You know? The girl who got spanked?” when referring to me.
That’s a very accurate nickname for me. Alex-the-girl-who-got-spanked. Except it isn’t so much in the past tense most of the time.
So now, when I’m working there, my coworkers make spanking related jokes to me whenever they can.
“Get spanked recently, Alex?”
“Having trouble sitting today?”
“Better do what you’re told so you don’t get spanked again!”
They have no idea how true these statements are. Unless they’re reading right now, that is. 0_0
Merry Christmas, everyone! I’m on holiday until the 3rd, which means that I’ll hopefully get a lot written and stored for your enjoyment in the coming weeks. I hope everyone has been enjoying whatever they celebrated.
For my, celebrations began with Malignus’ birthday on the 22nd. HeatherFeather and I had a bunch of fun preparing things: we blew up a billion black and red balloons and filled the house with them, got him some gifts and a cake and made a most delicious dinner. The cake was pretty much the best part, though: it’s so him:
You can see from this photo that another spoon was obtained. That was from HeatherFeather, with the condition that only I get hit with it. Because, you know, THAT’S fair. The spoon is from the same series as Warren, and the couple of whacks I got with it make it obvious that it isn’t going to be my best friend.
On the right side of the table, you’ll see a tube of Capzasin that I bought out of my own free will. Don’t freak out. I’m not insane, I promise.
Well, maybe a little. Or it’s just that whole thing with the lack of self preservation.
Doing that meant a lot for me in terms of submission, because I hate it pretty much more than any other thing. Just say the word and my face gets sad (the other night, I got scrunchy faced over the word “capsized” in a video game :P). That said, I’ve been trying to strike a balance between enjoying the fear that comes with partnering with a sadist and knowing that what happens to me is largely outside of my control and not getting irrationally terrified of anything and creating undue anxiety for myself. My feelings towards Capzasin were way too far over onto the side of irrational fear, and it seemed like an appropriate and beautiful thing to do to give up my protesting and indulgence of fear and take solace in not having control. I even ASKED FOR IT the other night, although I did a horribly pathetic job of it. I was snuggling after a spanking and I wanted to ask, even though I really, really did not want to receive it, just because I wanted to be able to accept it and be relaxed about it. I kept sighing as I tried to and failed, and after prompting I finally got the question out in that dumb, quiet, monotone voice. He said no, which made me incredibly happy. Usually getting myself psyched up over something and having it not happen is displeasing, but this worked out well. I’m hoping that next time it comes up, I’ll be able to remember my active part in things and that doing so will allow me to move more easily into submission. Hopefully someday soon, I’ll be able to ask for unpleasant things in a voice that gives the seriousness due to the situation (that is, not being excessively nonchalant) but which isn’t “um uh excuse me could I please… have that thing?”
I know that some people think that’s torture-horrible and should never be done, but it’s important to remember that, like a lot of things that are truly unpleasant, (like my nylon cane, or my lexan paddle, or thigh spanking at all) it serves a purpose within my relationship and I have, despite my dislike of it, I get something quite noteworthy from it in terms of submission.
Anyway, on Malignus’ birthday he gave us his birthday spankings. I was always pretty sure that those were supposed to be kind of light and fun, but Malignus gave HeatherFeather and I his with an acrylic cane. >_< It was fun, however, because it was the first time that HeatherFeather and I got spanked side by side, and that made the experience far more enjoyable. He did, however, hit me really, really hard 30 times (29 for his birthday, and 1 on my thighs because I said I was “fine” at the end when Heather asked instead of talking about how sore I was :P).
A few minutes later, I somehow got myself into a situation where I had the front of my thighs caned. He’d done it to another one of my friends one time, but never to me (although he’d hit me there with Jenny and lots of times with his hand) and the other day he hit HeatherFeather there twice. Heather had told me to ask him to do it to me, and because I have NO SENSE OF SELF PRESERVATION WHATSOEVER and will always say “Okay!” to something horrible that Malignus wants to do to me for “fun” I agreed and asked him to.
Holy cow, that hurts. The first two were pretty bad, and then I was matched with Heather. Then he asked me if I wanted as many as he’d given my other friend, and I said yes. The next two made me sob. It was incredibly hard to have what was happening be right in front of me: the psychological factor is 99 percent of things for me, and the sight and sound of an implement in motion have been known to make me gasp or cry out even if they never hit me. Knowing that those strokes were destined for a very sensitive part of my body was incrediscary. When those two were done, he asked me if I wanted one more, so I’d have done more than everyone else, which is just mean, because he knew that there’s no way I could say no to that. I had a hard time submitting to that last one, though, especially when he tapped it between two existing welts. I had to hide my face in a pillow. I was disappointed in myself for not being particularly submissive for the last stroke, but I know I’ll have other chances and I can just use that as a push to be awesome in the future.
The marks looked like this when it was over:
The side where the cane ended was incredibly more sore than the “near” side, which healed up quite nicely. The feeling of unevenness was really weird and awkward. It bothered me so much that I asked Malignus to even things out, but he refused because it amused him on a sadistic level.
I really, really enjoy being a vessel for sadism. I can enjoy playing with tops who are not sadistic as long as they truly love spanking, but there is really nothing that warms my heart more than knowing that something is horrible simply for the purpose of his enjoyment. I know that I sometimes whine and pout about the agony, but it makes me feel loved and it makes me feel like I’m being unabashedly myself. On Christmas Eve, Malignus hit me with a dishtowel (seriously!) in such a way that it made me cry. The absurdity of it was funny, and he was very, very pleased with himself and as I was crying, I felt very loved and like something was extremely right. It’s a very hard thing for me to articulate, so I’ll work on it for another time.
By the end of the week, HeatherFeather had left our apartment, not to return for some time, we celebrated Christmas together and then, on Christmas Day, I flew out to visit my remaining family of origin. I’ll be here until next Tuesday. I had a hard time leaving, because I find my family of origin stressful, it’s a difficult time for them right now to begin with and because, quite frankly, I don’t like leaving Malignus. I am taking a lot of comfort in the fact that when the week is over, I’m going home to him instead of it being that I visit him for a week and then leave. I imagine that coming back after the trip is going to make it feel even more home-like to me, and that’s a very nice idea.
My cousin was recently engaged, but she’s spending the holidays apart from her fiance, as they’re both with their families of origin in different states. She showed off her ring at the dinner table and talked about how she liked having something that came from him and showed his love for her on her body and how it made her never feel without him. While everyone was saying “awww,” I silently lifted the hem of my skirt and gently poked at the welts and bruises on the front of my thigh ;).