Well, I’m back.
I’m just going to keep talking about what I’ve been talking about here, and pretend like the entire summer hasn’t passed us by. I’ve been very busy recently, but I’ve missed blogging and missed you guys.
So, we were on the second day of TASSP, right?
The second day of TASSP started off with me getting ready to go be a demo bottom for Princess Kelley’s presentation on the different types of spanking. Due to the fact that we both enjoy nudity, I was going to do the sensual spanking part of the demo.
To be honest, I still feel a little zing of excitement when it’s time to disrobe in a room full of people. And there were quite a few people there, all sitting in rows of chairs, waiting to see me get spanked. Some of them were my friends, but others were people I didn’t know or recognize. I really thought about what I was about to do, and how lucky I was that I had the confidence and body positivity to just do this. Like I often do, I imagined telling my younger self about what my day had been like, and thought about how shocked I would have been. I smiled to myself as I slipped my dress off, standing in front of the crowd in just my panties.
Before long, I found myself over Kelley’s lap as she slid those panties down:
And she began to demonstrate a variety of types of spanking. All of them were sensual, and therefore very enjoyable. She spanked me, flogged me, used a riding crop, and did sensual caning:
It was a fun time, and I was reminded of how much I enjoy being spanked by Kelley. Yum.
That day also included one of my favorite events that I’ve ever been to at a spanking party: a giant and well organized school roleplay. I love school roleplays, and those that have a real class sized amount of girls involved are some of my all time favorites. So, I was excited as can be about this. We’d be getting schedules, breaking up into classes and then heading to different rooms to learn different subjects.
I was happy that all the girls from my “girl chat” which had originated after the last party were at TASSP, and I had been pretty forceful about making sure that they were signed up for the school girl event. One of the perks of being a spanking site producer is that I have access to an awful lot of spanking specific wardrobe, so I decided that it would be great to get our group together in matching school uniform. In order to outfit five girls, it made sense to go with a basic color scheme, so that I’d have enough of everything. I decided on white shirts, blue skirts or jumpers (pinafores, for those of you across the pond), blue cross ties and white socks.
So, on the morning of the school roleplay, I met up with Piper, OTKDesire, Elizabella and Zoey so that we could get changed into our outfits. It took a few minutes to try on various clothing options and see what fit everyone best, but we wound up looking super cute, and totally on point as a group of school girls.
We ran into our friends Tattoo Fairy, Princess Flyer and Candy before we headed down to class:
First, we had assembly, where we were scolded about the rules of the school and informed that we would need to listen to all the teachers and hall monitors by Principal Lectr, who is very high on the list of principals with whom I have an inappropriate relationship. 😉 We got in trouble for having snuck in candy.
Then, it was off to our first class, which was drama. I was very much in character as a school girl. I’m not *always* the same when I roleplay, obviously, but my go-to school girl character plays up a few of the personality traits that I normally try to subdue. I’m a know it all, a huge suck up and a tattle tail. I’m also very focused on the academic side of school, and a huge failure at most extra curricular activities (I mean, that one is kinda just true).
So, when we had to get into characters and act things out in class, I really should have been good at that. In the real world, doing improv is literally my job. That’s what I do when I’m in videos and sessions. That’s what good roleplaying is.
But, because this required an Inception like roleplay within a roleplay, I found myself stuttering and unable to come up with anything. I was too deeply into my headspace. Fortunately, I was with Zoey, who is equally a good girl to me (alright, fine, possible more so). The two of us were just shy and quiet together for the rest of class.
The next class was art, during which we were asked to start drawing a picture of “the male figure.” Now, I’m really bad at drawing anything except for cats. So, I decided to draw a male cat. The teacher had been non specific as to what species the male figure had to be, after all!
It got a little bit more complicated when our teacher’s aid, Mr. Whooperine, was called upon to give us a little bit more of a demonstration of the male figure… in real life. Gosh, he has a nice body. ^_^
My enjoyment of this was cut short, though, because the hall monitor appeared and called out my name: I was being sent to the principal’s office. I let it feel real. I let myself feel my heart pounding in my chest. I let myself get worried about what was going to happen and wondering why I could be in trouble.
There were four (I think) different administrators that girls could be sent to, but I found myself in Principal Lectr’s office.
“Young lady, you were registered for class twice, according to my attendance sheet,” he scolded me.
I bit my lip a little. That didn’t sound like too serious of an offense. I was almost disappointed.
It was true, though, that I had my name on the official attendance list twice. It had been Joe’s mistake (that is to say, Principal Lectr’s) and I had pointed it out to him, but he hadn’t fixed it. When I remembered that, I started to like where this was going.
“But sir,” I began, “it isn’t my fault that my name appeared on the list twice! You put it there by mistake, and I was trying to correct you.”
“Are you saying that it’s my fault? Are you failing to take responsibility for your actions?” he asked. The unfairness was making me squirm in the most delightful way.
“Sir, I really didn’t do anything wrong. You’re the one who made a mistake,” I insisted.
“That’s it,” he said sternly, rising from his seat and picking up a mean wooden paddle with which I am well acquainted.
I felt my heart beating fast as he walked towards me with it. It was so unfair. I’m always so good at school, and now I was going to get punished.
“Over the desk,” he told me, tapping the paddle against his hand.
I gritted my teeth and did as I was told, bending over in a way which caused my blue jumper to lift up and expose my white cotton panties.
“Six swats,” he told me.
I held still as well as I could and waited.
Truth be told, it wasn’t a very hard swat. But my bottom was sore and I was in my headspace, so it felt like I was on fire. I let out a cry and wiggled.
The next swat was probably a little softer than the first, but it felt even worse. I struggled to keep my position, letting my back rise a little bit.
At the third stroke, I found myself thinking “Halfway done! I’m halfway finished!” As if it had at some point become a challenge for me to take six medium (at best) strength swats.
But the next three were a challenge. They made me whine and wriggle across the principal’s desk.
When he had finished, he stood me up and sent me directly back to class. I couldn’t help but rub my bottom a little as I was escorted to the room again to finish my lesson.
My teacher made me turn my drawing in to be graded, and I figured that I wasn’t going to get the best marks on my cat picture. We got the drawings back later, and I was pretty pleased with myself, though:
The final class of the day was Geography, which was taught by my friend, Pooka (who is the owner of one of my all time favorite dogs). We were practicing for a quiz by playing a game where we had two teams and had to answer questions from Trivial Pursuit’s geography section.
Our team did pretty well, although we got hung up on the question “What is the only US City to contain a royal palace?” I was thinking inside the box, and couldn’t think of anything that would fit that description. And I got frustrated when we got it wrong.
Shortly after everyone had put in their wrong answers, it dawned on me. Hawaii. There was probably a palace in Hawaii.
And I was right, too, except it didn’t count because it wasn’t my turn anymore. It counted for something less good that I phrased my outburst as “It’s in fuckin’ Honolulu, isn’t it?”
And so, for the second time that school day, I found myself having my uniform skirt lifted for punishment, this time, a brisk hand spanking on my panties. It was, of course, much worse since it was delivered in front of the class, and all my friends.
Fortunately, we won anyway, and got candy to boot.
I was honestly disappointed when the school day came to end. I could have done a full 8:00 AM – 3:00 PM school day with no problem… or even a week of that. But I know that’s not what everyone wants from a spanking party.
I remain forever behind on posting, but hey, at least I’m doing it. Look for more from me coming soon!
Everyone remember last winter when England passed new regulations making the production of spanking, bondage, BDSM and several other kinds of positive, consensual adult videos illegal? It got talked about a lot at the time, and then it stopped being talked about so much. The law remained exactly the same, though, and it continued to effect UK based producers, having huge impacts on their lives.
Those who had to move their sites (or themselves) out of the country because of it have had big, bureaucratic messes and a lot of expenses to deal with. Those who didn’t have that option or who decided that their best choice was to remain in the UK have had even more stress to deal with: the fear of what’s going to happen next. I can’t imagine how much strain it puts on someone to know that the thing they’ve dedicated themselves to, invested all their time, creative energy and money in, has been made illegal and could possibly be taken away from them. It breaks my heart to think about, really.
So, when Pandora Blake and Nimue Allen started a fundraiser to support Backlash-UK, an organization that can offer legal aid to producers who find themselves in court because of these ridiculous regulations, I was glad to help out. I encouraged everyone who enjoys this blog to donate to the campaign, promising to give something back to the community in exchange for your help.
The deal was this: for every £10 donated, one cane stroke would be given. It started out with Pandora and Nimue each taking up to 50 cane strokes each. When those goals were reached, popular spanking and bondage model Amelia Jane Rutherford/Ariel Anderssen (same person, two names) volunteered to take 25 strokes, and Rosie Bottomley signed up for another 50. I was next to volunteer. If another £500 were donated, I’d be taking 50 strokes.
The fundraiser ended up collecting a total of £3,836. For those who don’t know, that’s about $5,700 that was donated in about a month’s time, or 767% of the original £500 goal. I was proud that I’d be getting all the strokes I had signed up for.
I had to wait until Paul got back from the UK to get caned, though, and once he got back, it didn’t happen right away. We we had houseguests, then we went out of town, then I had to shoot a lot of things, both for myself and other sites. Besides, you have to be in a good headspace to take such a severe caning.
Fifty cane strokes is A LOT to me these days. I was excited about what I had agreed to do, but very apprehensive. I could have signed up for a lower maximum, but I wanted to push myself. I do like playing hard, and I actually really like longer scenes, especially once I get into that headspace, but I don’t play that way very often anymore. I often get hung up on worries about marking or leaving myself too sore, or I get caught up in memories of times that weren’t enjoyable when I played hard. Over the past few years, it’s become increasingly harder for me to let go during longer, harder scenes.
So, I was nervous and apprehensive before my caning. Every one of the models who took sponsored canings reacted to the event differently. Most of the others I’ve watched seemed to enjoy it, some made sounds of pleasure, others giggled. I cried, but this wasn’t a bad thing.
Crying has always been a natural reaction to spanking and other corporal punishment for me, and for a long time, a crying headspace replaced a more traditional subspace for me when I was most relaxed during a scene. When the caning started, I was feeling a little nervous and a little shy about it. It hurt. The word that comes to my mind to describe the way that the cane feels is “spongy” which I know is very bizarre sounding. But the pain flexes and bends, swells and grows, like it’s absorbing into the other tissues in my body, welts raising up in a way that makes all of my body awareness focus on them.
I soon discovered that I needed the harsh, pulsing pain that was biting into my bottom. My crying was fueled by pain, but it was also relieving. It was almost therapeutic, like all my frustrations about ATVOD were manifested into something tangible, something that I knew that I could cope with.
Fifty strokes went by much more quickly than I expected it to. While at the beginning I was worried that I would never be able to take that many, I found that by the end I was in a space where I was almost surprised by the ending. Adrenaline and endorphins had kicked in, and despite my tears, I felt very still inside. Paul wrapped me up to cuddle on his lap and all was right with the world.
Doing something that I had, if just temporarily, worried I couldn’t do made me feel more confident about my ability to accomplish other things in my life, too, and gave me a little confidence boost.
So, now you get to watch the video! Click on this link to watch it streaming, or right click to save it to your computer. You’re welcome to reupload it and share it, but please provide credit and don’t re-edit it.
I hope you enjoy it! If you feel inclined to do something to help out, you can donate directly to Backlash-UK by clicking on the link on their page (no one will get caned though, sorry).
You can also support the producers who have been affected by these laws by joining their sites. Some examples include:
I had a lot of downtime from blogging here, and I missed a lot of things that happened in my life. For now, though, I’m just going to pick back up with writing about what most recently happened. And that was today.
I’ve talked before about the difference between play punishment and real punishment. Play punishment is a big part of my daily life with Paul, where real punishment happens fairly rarely. Although I enjoy being naughty when it’s just-for-fun, being good and obedient in “real life” is important to me.
I don’t wear shoes in the house most of the time. This is primarily because I have a lot of pain in one of my knees and so I have to keep it straight if I’m sitting for long periods of time, such as when I’m working or writing, or watching TV, or playing video games… so a lot of the time. This leads to me usually sitting with my feet up on the couch or working from my bed with my laptop on my lap, like I’m doing right now. So, no shoes.
The first time that Paul went back to England after he had been here, I set up an outdoor sitting area for him as a surprise. We don’t have much of a yard, since our house is still in a semi-urban area, but underneath the camphor tree in our yard, I put a couple of chairs, a chiminea and a small table. Paul spends a lot of time sitting out here when he’s taking breaks from work. He sits in one of the chairs there and reads: Paul reads more than anyone else that I know, which is something that I really like about him.
So, when I want to find Paul to ask him something, or just to climb onto his lap for cuddling, I first check in his office. If he’s not there, he’s almost always in the yard. The problem is that when I want to go out into the yard to talk to him, I often don’t bother to put shoes on before I do this.
At first, I thought that the reason that Paul kept scolding me about this was because I then tracked a lot of leaves and things into the house on my feet, but this didn’t really matter that much, I didn’t think, seeing as Paul wears shoes in the house and we have really fuzzy cats, so the floors are almost always in need of sweeping up anyway. Admittedly, I really didn’t take being scolded when I didn’t wear shoes in the yard very seriously at first.
One day, though, I went out to talk to him and noticed that there were a lot of bees in the yard. In fact, I very nearly stepped on one while barefoot. This is a big problem, since I’m seriously allergic to bees. After that happened, Paul started being very serious about the “wear shoes when going outside” rule.
The problem is, I keep forgetting about it. I had made such a habit of just running out without bothering with shoes. Because I get to the backyard through the back door, which is located in the kitchen, there isn’t any room for me to just leave shoes by the door. I have to actually go find my shoes and put them on. Ugh. My life is so hard. 😛
Despite getting (not so severely) spanked for not wearing shoes in the yard several times in the past, I forgot about it again today. Paul was in the yard reading, and I had just finished watching the most recent video for Northern Spanking. At least half the time now, I make up the names for videos. I watch them once the editing is done, then I make a list of ideas and ask Paul which ones he thinks are the best. This time, I had pretty much decided which one was the best one, and I felt enthusiastic about zipping out the yard to let him know.
Of course, I did this without shoes on.
After I told Paul what I had decided on, and he agreed with me that it was good, I curled up in his lap to snuggle for a little bit. It was sunny and bright out, and I felt very content.
“How’s your tummy feeling?” he asked me, stroking my hair.
I had eaten a sandwich which was questionably not good earlier in the day and had been feeling a bit queasy. I told him that I still didn’t feel 100% right.
“Tell me when you do,” he told me, his voice sounding stern and serious. “I’m going to punish you for not wearing shoes in the yard.”
“Well, I’m never going to feel better,” I moped, trying to curl my toes up as if that would somehow make it less noticeable that I was barefoot. We both knew that wasn’t true, of course.
Soon, I was feeling pretty okay, and I went to the gym. This is a new thing: while I had previously only worked out at home, I’ve been actually going to the gym and following a routine there now. It’s kind of intimidating to me, because I don’t know what I’m doing with half the stuff there, but it’s really rewarding to see myself getting stronger and fitter.
I came home and took a shower, then got dressed again and found Paul in his office. It was time for more cuddling, of course. I seriously spend a pretty decent percentage of my days snuggled up to him when I can. I have to save up for later. 😉
“Are you feeling better now?” he asked. I nodded hesitantly: I couldn’t lie. “Go to your room,” he told me. Paul has a specific tone of voice that he only uses when I’m in real, actual trouble. It’s very tender and gentle, but extremely authoritative. The sound of that tone touches at the core of what D/s is about to me, and I would never disobey him when he talked to me that way.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments, waiting for him. It seemed like a very long time to me, but I knew that realistically, it wasn’t long at all.
Then he came into the room. He wasn’t carrying anything with him, which didn’t necessarily mean that I wasn’t going to get punished with an implement: there were several in the room already.
“Stand up, Alex,” he instructed.
I stood up next to him, looking up at his face.
“I’ve punished you for this before, haven’t I?” he asked.
I nodded sadly, not wanting to admit that I hadn’t really taken those minor punishments to heart before.
“Like almost all your rules, this is to preserve your safety and well being,” he lectured, reminding me about the fact that I could get stung by a bee or step on something sharp outside.
I felt guilty and I felt a little embarrassed. In my previous D/s relationship, I used to get punished for things that, primarily, annoyed or caused inconvenience to my ex. These things didn’t make me feel the same way. I felt like I was in trouble, then, and it felt real, but it lacked the feeling of being nurtured and taken care of. The fact that my rules exist because Paul cares about me and wants to protect me makes me feel particularly bad when I break them.
Paul sat down and pulled me over his lap, lifting the skirt of my dress to expose my bottom. Then he began to spank me with his hand. Each swat was particularly hard and forceful, much more than it would be if we were just playing. They stung and bit, and I found myself struggling over his lap a little bit: I was still slightly sore from the spankings I had received the two previous days.
Paul grabbed my hand and held it behind my back. He wasn’t pinning my wrist in place, just holding my hand there. It made me feel like I was very much under his control, but it was still an affectionate gesture. It calmed me, and I lay still, taking the spanking fairly quietly. It got to a point where I was sufficiently warmed that each hard swat didn’t hurt so much anymore, and things were almost becoming nice.
It was then that Paul stopped and instructed me to get up and to take off my dress. I did as I was told, folding my dress and setting it on the dresser behind me as Paul grabbed four pillows and put them in a tall stack on the middle of the bed.
“Over the pillows, bottom uppermost,” he instructed.
This is a very normal instruction for us. I like being in this position, with my bottom higher than the rest of my body. It makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel like I am on display. It makes me feel like my bottom is a very obvious target. All of these things make the submissive part of my brain hum happily.
Paul stood to one side of me, so he was in my field of vision, and then he removed his belt. He did it fairly quickly, with strong, sharp movements that foreshadowed how, exactly, it would be moving in just a moment.
He took his position and lay the belt on me, finding his mark. He did this motion a few times before the first stroke, and with each one, I whimpered as I awaited the biting sting that would soon be following.
After what seemed like ages, he snapped the belt down against my bottom. It hurt, but I was ready for it. The second and third strokes made me grunt and gasp a little. The fourth was particularly sharp, and it landed with a pinching feeling on my bottom, reminiscent of the tawse. I let out a wail. The strokes began to fall harder now, and each one solicited small cries from me.
After five strokes, he changed sides. This is something that Paul almost always does, and which very few people who I play with do. Because most people I play with tend to only swing from one direction, and it’s been this way for the past nine and a half years that I’ve been getting spanked, the opposite side is still somewhat less conditioned, so these strokes always hurt more. I gripped at my Rilakkuma cuddly toy (who I call “Fat Head”) and pressed my face into the plush material, as if this would bring me some kind of relief.
Once ten strokes had been delivered, I expected Paul to change sides again. Paul and I tend to play so that far fewer, but very hard strokes are delivered, usually of a set number. This is different from the way that I’ve played with a lot of other people, but it’s a headspace that has a strong effect on me. It feels formal, more like a school punishment. It feels very controlled, which is something that gives me great comfort and allows me to let go more during the scene.
Instead, Paul started to scold me again:
“You’ve been punished for this before, haven’t you?” he asked.
I nodded, my voice not coming through for me.
Paul’s only response to this was to tap the belt against my thighs.
I whimpered and lowered my head, knowing that this was really going to hurt. And, in a second, it did: a bright, blazing light of pain across the middle of my thighs. I let out a cry that probably sounded fairly desperate. The next several strokes landed this way, seeming to illuminate my entire body, each stroke feeling like it covered much more flesh than it actually did. I struggled to keep from reaching back, and sometimes raised my feet after the belt landed and had to force myself to move them back down before I was asked to.
Having my thighs spanked and otherwise punished has always been psychologically important to me. It’s the ultimate love/hate relationship, and I was fascinated with it even before I actually started to play. It always seemed like a punishment within a punishment: the harshest of sanctions.
When the belting was finished and my legs were striped by the strokes I had received, I felt very passive and chastised. I curled up in Paul’s lap, thanking him for punishing me, as is our protocol. I felt very young and very taken care of, and these are two of the feelings that I cherish the most that can come from this thing we do.
I’ll be careful with my shoes in the future, not because I’m afraid of being punished again, but because I know that it’s important and that Paul cares about me enough to make sure I know, and that’s the best feeling.