I’ve just had way too much stuff going on recently, and I have about six blog posts in progress, but I wanted to take a second to point out a couple of things.
First of all, I want to remind you guys that the voting for the 2014 Spanking Awards has officially started. This year, the Awards are being hosted on Spanking Blogg instead of on the now pretty much defunct Spanking Spot.
This year, Alex in Spankingland was once again nominated for Creative Spanking Blog of the Year. During the last awards (in 2012, as no prizes were given in 2013) I was proud to have received this award.
I absolutely LOVE a lot of the other blogs who were nominated this time, though. Included among them is the blog that encouraged me to start blogging in the first place: Erica Scott’s Life, Love and Spanking. Erica is one of my best friends, and if a week goes by where I don’t get to see her, it seems like it’s been too long. Her blog is heartfelt, honest and hilarious, and she’s been a role model for me in my process of opening up and talking about my real life on my blog more and more.
Another one of my favorite blogs was nominated: Pandora Blake’s Spanked Not Silenced. Pandora’s blog is an amazing mix of important intellectual discussion of spanking, D/s and pornography topics as well as very personal, introspective writing. She’s also been a big influence on me as a blogger, and I followed her writing closely back before it ever occurred to me that I would meet her!
A third blog that I really enjoy which has been nominated is Snowflake Roasting Service. I don’t actually *know* S and Snow, the couple who runs what is probably the best original content tumblr spanking blog of all time. It feels like I do, though, because their exhibition isn’t just for spanking and sexual play: they share a lot of their lives with the internet. I’ve talked to S a few times over the past couple of years, too, and he’s always been super friendly and nice. Definitely A+ people doing top quality amateur content.
I don’t really know Hermione, who writes Hermione’s Heart, either, but she’s very dedicated to keeping the conversations in the spanking blogs world going, and she blogs with consistency that makes me jealous. She writes in a way that makes her feel like an old friend, and I really enjoy following her.
I had never visited the other nominated blogs, but I’m definitely going to check them out now!
There are several other categories up for voting now, which I will certainly talk about in the next couple of days. Getting writing done has been hard recently because there are a lot of distractions when I’m away from home.
Speaking of writing: over the past several months, I’ve mentioned that I’ve been working on two big projects. One of them is ready to reveal: I’ve just finished writing my first ever spanking romance novel, which will be released by Stormy Night Publications in the next couple of days. I’ll be posting more information about it soon, but it’s been a big undertaking for me. I’ve never written anything longer than a 30 page academic paper before, so writing an entire book was a challenging and exciting process for me. I loved writing it, though. It was an interesting experience, too, because as much as I write about my personal life and as many spanking stories as I’ve shared, I almost never write about sex. I had a ton of fun creating all the sex scenes in my book, borrowing bits and pieces from long term fantasies of mine and from actual experiences (but you’ll have to read it and try to guess which ones are which). The book explores a lot of themes that I find super hot, although not necessarily the ones I do on film: specifically, it’s chock full of medical play and age play scenes, but of course there’s a very high dose of spanking, too. I personally think it’s super hot, and I hope that you’ll give it a read when it comes out. So, stayed tuned for more information on The Doctor’s Little Girl in the next couple of days.
Anyway, it’s the middle of then night in the timezone where I currently am, so I need to head to bed.
I’m kind of a season behind on my blogging, so this story isn’t recent, but I enjoy it. I hope you will, too!
In July, after my visit to Denver, my friend Tasha and I drove to Chicago for Crimson Moon. Crimson Moon is a party that I truly love (not like there are any spanking parties that I *don’t* like). It has a very different feel than a lot of other parties. Part of this is the relaxed, casual atmosphere that the organizers’ attitudes lend to the general festivities. Another thing is the fact that Crimson Moon is held in a hotel that doesn’t have large suites, so people tend to play and hang out in a handful of smaller, more intimate bunches. This gives you lots of different rooms to chose from with lots of different energies, which is a big win. It also means that you have the unfortunate situation of not running into people as often as you might want to, or missing someone entirely because you were always in different rooms.
On the first night that I was at the party, I came into a room to find that my friends JC and Piper, as well as a handful of others, were playing in there (in fact, I’m pretty sure it was their room, but I wouldn’t guarantee that). I’m just getting to know Piper, although she seems incredibly sweet, but JC is one of my long time friends, and he’s become one of my favorite Tops. I hadn’t played for recreation yet at the party (I’d done a couple of sessions earlier that day) and I wanted to get going at that: what’s the point of being at a spanking party if not to get (or give!) lots of spankings?! Besides, because of the variety of small groups that I knew I’d be hanging out in all weekend, I wanted to catch JC for some play in case we didn’t get a chance later.
After some hanging out and cuddling, JC bent me over the edge of the bed and started to spank me with his hand. He started out fairly gently, but moved on to start using his hand like he normally does: hard. He gives one of the hardest hand spankings of anyone that I’ve ever played with, which is really saying something! I was really wanting to be spanked, though, and I was particularly happy to be reconnecting with my friend this way after almost six months, so instead of resisting, I felt blissed out. I think I probably cooed as he spanked me. The room we were playing in was busy and bustling, and my friends were probably watching, but I was in the right headspace to not care. Everything in the background melted away, and my only thought was the brightness that I felt with each smack. After a little while, JC decided it was time to move on to another implement (I say this because his hand pretty much counts as an implement in my mind!) and he brought out a pair of new hairbrushes. They still had the tags on and everything! I think Piper had purchased them for him, so I asked her if it was alright if I got spanked with them (as this is something I would have been sensitive about were the tables turned) and she gave an enthusiastic “Better you than me!” JC told me to pick which one I wanted to feel across my bottom.
When someone asks me to pick out a strap or select a cane, I always feel nervous and a little lost: despite the amount of time I’ve spent on the receiving end of these implements, I still have trouble identifying which ones will be meanest based on site. Hairbrushes, though, are a different story. I consider myself a good judge of character when it comes to hairbrushes. I can tell which ones are going to have a deep, burning bite, and which ones will have a lighter, more superficial sting, which ones have a cushioned core that give them a gentler thud and which ones will blind me in a frenzy of smacks that I can never seem to get used to. I could immediately tell that one of the two hairbrushes was decidedly friendlier, so I picked that one. It was a a rectangular “paddle brush” in a reddish colored wood.
JC began to spank me with it, and I began to squirm a bit, wriggling around under the smacks, although they felt quite like I had expected. Smack, smack, smack went the hairbrush. Things grew sorer and sorer with each smack, until one felt vaguely dull and strange.”Are you serious?!” I heard JC ask. I turned around to look. “You broke my hairbrush! This is the first time I ever used it!”
I find it annoying when people brag about breaking canes, since that’s usually a sign of poor technique combined with more force than a person with that level of skill should be using, but with little implements like this, it makes me excited. Ha! Take that, hairbrush! I got you back!Piper seemed to share my attitude, cheering me on and talking about how I’d saved her.
Of course, at this point, that meant that I was in for a dose of the other hairbrush: the one I hadn’t selected because it seemed heavier and more bitey. It was, indeed, heavier and more bitey. I squealed and kicked a bit as he gave me a hard flurry of swats to “reward” for my “accomplishment.”
Breaking things during your first spanking of a party weekend? It’s a sign that things are off to a good start! ❤︎
Note: This post contains explicit references to F/F sexuality. In fact, it’s the most blatantly sexual post I’ve ever written. If you’re uncomfortable with this, please skip it!
A couple weeks ago, I visited friends in Denver before heading to Chicago for Crimson Moon. I had a great time while I was there. One of the many highlights of the trip was getting to spend time with Amoni. Amoni is, hands down, one of my best friends ever. I feel like a lucky girl to know her, and even more so that I get to hang out and goof off with her a few times a year. One day when we were hanging out, we decided that we needed to go to the store to pick up a few things. Amoni needed to get face wash, so we ended up in that section of the store, where I was distracted by hairbows. Just down the row from there, I saw something else related to hair: brushes.
Now, it’s debatable as to whether or not I actually needed a new hairbrush. I had recently broken one of mine while giving a particularly hard spanking in a session. Despite this causality, I still had three good ones left. So, I was looking kind of casually. Amoni pointed out one with a slotted back, which I rejected. Then this one caught my eye:
It was called the “Goody Heritage Collection” and had a very vintage look to it. It looks very similar to my Mason Pearson brush, except it’s much larger. Quickly opening the box proved that it was indeed made of wood, and although not murderously heavy, delivered a sharp sting when I gave my hand a test swat. It was about $16.00: clearly I needed it.
We finished our other shopping and checked out, then headed back to Tasha and Steven’s house, where I was staying. After a short period of chatting, I got out my hairbrush.
“You should probably spank me with this, to test it out,” I suggested to Amoni, handing it to her. Amoni has spanked me several times before. The first time was under the instructions of an ex-Dom of mine, and most of the ones after that had been in order to make my bottom look red for pictures, an act which we had started to call “pinking” me. One of our first “full formed” scenes had taken place at the local spanking party in Denver the last time I had visited. While we were both dressed as school girls, she had taken me across her lap as she sat on the floor. I was significantly welted from the Real Spankings shoot that I had done earlier in the week, so she started off fairly slowly. When she gave me harder smacks over my welts, I was squirming and struggling:
And so, with the memory of this in mind, I handed Amoni the hairbrush and crawled over her lap as she sat on the bed. Leaving my soft, pink panties on, she started by massaging and rubbing my bottom for a while, before giving me a warmup. The warmup was nice: similarly nice to the spanking she had given me at Scarlet Moons. I felt myself growing very warm indeed: both in the sense that stinging was starting to collect on my bottom and that warmth and wetness were gathering between my legs. In the hopes of being a polite and non disruptive house guest, I’d been refraining from my usual bedtime rituals which, when at home, include a lot of fairly boisterous masturbation. As such, I was particularly horny.
“Amoni,” I suggested, “we should just forget about the hairbrush and do what we did last time, instead. I changed my mind.”
I was blindingly aroused, and her smacks to my tender areas between my legs were making me whine and writhe. Still, I didn’t explode with orgasm the way that I had last time. Finally, she stopped spanking me for a moment. For a half second, I thought that she was reaching for the hairbrush, which seemed like a very mean thought at the moment. Instead, she gently stroked her fingers across the gusset of my panties, commenting that they were particularly wet and making me blush. She began to stroke my clit through the soft, wet material, as I remained lying over her lap, my bottom high and sore from having been spanked. Thinking about the fact that I was already quite sore, I suddenly focused on a single thought:
After I come, I’m going to get the hairbrush.
As it was a new implement, I had no idea how much it was going to hurt, but getting a hairbrush spanking is never entirely friendly. My sudden focus on my fear of the impending hairbrush spanking only shortened the amount of time before it arrived: I grew more and more aroused, panting and shaking until her simple ministrations made me tip over the edge, yelping, wriggling and calling out in ecstasy.
After a few moments of catching my breath and cuddling over her lap, Amoni announced that it was time for the hairbrush. She started fairly lightly, but even the gentle smacks stung. Because that’s what hairbrushes do: they sting. They concentrate a lot of sting into one relatively small area and push it in so that you can’t ignore it. This particular brush had a less shiny surface than a lot of the hairbrushes that I’ve been getting spanked with recently, and I could feel the difference. It had a less sharp sting than its shiny counterparts. Although not extremely weight bearing (I would still put it in the “light weight” category) it didn’t have much cushioning, so it gave a little thud on each of the harder smacks. I soon was crying out in pain, my bottom feeling swollen and hot. Not wanting to give me TOO hard of a spanking, not too long after I began to struggle, Amoni stopped and gave me some after care.
It’s a very good hairbrush. I’m certainly glad that I bought it. 😛
I’m getting ready to leave for Dallas for the Texas All State Spanking Party on Thursday. Because I skipped Boardwalk Badness Weekend, this will be my first big spanking party of the year. I’m excited as can be. Preparing for any party takes a lot of work, but this one has been keeping me especially busy, since it’s Prom themed! This is super exciting, since I didn’t actually get to attend either of my proms in high school. Like every girl, I dreamed of finding the perfect dress, doing my hair and makeup and dancing the night away. Fortunately, the spanking world is a place where all my long buried wishes and desires can come true. My date to the dance will be my awesome friend, Christy Cutie. Since Christy and I will both be there unchaperoned, this clearly means that we won’t be getting up to any mischief at all! I’m sure that I’ll be able to convince a couple other people to dance with me, too, right?
This brings me to a secret: I can’t dance. At all. It’s laughable when I try. I think people probably learn how to dance when they’re pre-teens, a time when at all the school events I stood awkwardly at the back of the room, unnoticed by pretty much everyone. Even if that’s not when you’re supposed to learn, attempting to dance always reminds me of that time in my life since it’s so obvious that I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m hoping to just cut loose and leave my insecurities about this at the door. At least at this dance, no one will be passing through with a beach ball and asking us to “leave room for Jesus.” (That’s not happening, right? Someone please confirm!)
About a week ago, Sarah Gregory was visiting Los Angeles. She was staying with Christy, and the three of us got together to go dress shopping. Before we started in earnest, we went to a couple of vintage stores where I snatched up a few awesome pieces which, once I finish assembling things, will make for some great costumes for upcoming videos/et cetera. We then headed to a couple of dress stores in my neighborhood which Christy and I had often eyed when driving by, looking at the cute, cupcake style prom dresses in the window. Trying on dresses was quite the process: prom dresses fit differently than regular clothes and since it wasn’t prom season, they only had a few of each dress: not every size in every color. Still, we all found dresses that are totally adorable. Mine makes me feel like a princess, which isn’t something that I feel like everyday! I can’t wait to get spanked in it. In the next couple of days I still need to secure a couple of accessories, but I’m thrilled with my dress. You can expect to see me doing lots of twirls.
Another preparation besides packing (which is tedious, and involves sorting through literally hundreds of pairs of panties to find the ones that I want to bring and trying to come up with creative ways to store my multitude of bows) happened over the weekend: Christy and I took a couple of school uniforms to the tailor to have the skirts shortened. That’s kind of an awkward and vaguely embarrassing thing to do, in case you’ve never done it before. “Hi! We’re a couple of girls in our twenties and we have these matching school girl outfits that we’d like to have made sluttier, please.” Well, we didn’t use those exact words, but that was the idea. 😉 Fortunately, the girl who waited on us believed our story about going to a costume party. That’s technically not lying, right?
If you’re local to Dallas or going to be at the event, I’m still booking private sessions for the party. I’m available as a bottom, for those of you who’d like to have me over your lap, and, for the first time at a spanking party, as a switch or Top. I’ve been switching for a little while now and I’ve discovered that I really like it. I particularly like to play characters which emphasize my younger age: baby sitters, school bullies, sisters blackmailing employees et cetera. While getting spanked is still where my heart is, I’m happy that I’ve expanded to connect with people in this way. I’ve learned so much about the mental side of spanking as a spankee, and I love applying this knowledge from the other side. I find it immensely satisfying to give someone exactly what they need! Anyway, if you’d like to get together with me between the dates of 6/19 and 6/22 in Dallas, please email me at email@example.com so we can set something up!
They’ll be an update on how my life is going coming up sometime soon, but I wanted to get this out there! Those of you going to TASSP, I can’t wait to see you there!
I just finished a busy week. I shall now tell you about it, bit by bit.
On Monday, Paul and I drove out to Topenga (a more “rural” area on the edge of Los Angeles where one can experience some much needed fresh air!) in the early afternoon. I was meeting up with Pandora Jones, Samantha Grace and Odette Delacroix later that day in order to shoot a custom video, but Paul and I had wanted to try and find some places to shoot outdoor spanking content for Kitchen Sink Spanking, so we decided to do that first while we were already out of the city. It may have been the end of April, but the weather in Los Angeles was already feeling more like summer time: it was warm, sunny and bright out. We found a little park and took a walk until we were under a big oak tree. I was pretty obscured from the street, but it was still close by: if I turned my back, I could see the cars rushing by. I didn’t feel comfortable getting spanked so close to the road, but we did film a panty fetish video there, since it’s a lot harder to notice that someone is flashing her panties than it is to miss the very distinctive sound of a spanking. As it was, that level of exhibitionism was fun and exciting without making me too nervous, but I did run into one small “filming in the countryside” snafu. While Paul had been setting up the camera, I had leisurely leaned my back against the tree. After a few minutes, I felt something tickling my arms and looked down to see red ants crawling all over me! I’m sure it was comical to watch me flailing around and trying to shake the ants off. It’s a pity we weren’t already filming :P. For a while after this, I kept noticing one or two ants crawling on my body, and had to pick them off. Paul seemed to think that this was a bit prissy of me, but these were red ants, and I was convinced that they were going to bite me. Red ants are not common in the area where I grew up, and they’re the enemy in Sim Ant, so I tend to be distrustful of them.After abandoning antville, we planned to walk back to the car by way of a path which looped around and drive on to find another park. Instead, I found a path that lead off in another direction which I wanted to explore. This was a good call: it lead down into a little gulch which held a much bigger, older tree. The branches formed a canopy around it, and we had to push them aside to go into the little “room” formed there. Inside, we found a rope and board swing hanging from one of the branches. This is exactly the kind of secret hideaway that I love. It was a private little space away from the rest of the world, and I happily climbed onto the swing (after testing it for safety, of course). Paul filmed me swinging while giving peeks at my panties for a bit, but then announced that it was time for me stop playing, as I was in need of a spanking. Why? Because the space was perfect for one. It was definitely true. No one could see us and the branches made me feel cut off from the rest of the world. It felt like we were in a private universe there.
Setting the camera up on some rocks or something, Paul directed me to bend over the swing. I did this by laying over it like it was a lap, so that my stomach was against the wood and all my limbs were sort of hanging. Paul explained that this wasn’t actually a very effective way to spank me, and suggested that I stand up, bend over and grab the seat of the swing. This *did* make more sense. The other pose probably looked a bit silly. It was one I had done many times before, though: when I was younger and first fantasizing about spanking I liked to drape myself across things to imagine that I was in the OTK position, and I used the swings on the playground to do this pretty regularly. Fortunately, no one had ever asked me what I was doing.
Under the tree, Paul lifted my skirt and began to spank me. Even though it wasn’t cold out at all, the fresh air made the smacks seem to sting more. Maybe it was psychosomatic, but I yelped pitifully from a simple hand spanking.
When he pulled my panties down, I felt particularly exposed. I protested that a squirrel might see me, since that was pretty much the only way that I would be observed. I knew it was silly, especially since I do plenty of fully nude tromping around outdoors when modeling, but I felt tremendously vulnerable. “Squirrels have seen everything,” Paul responded, which is a strangely sage sentence, when you think about it. I wiggled and whined throughout the rest of the spanking. Once he had finished reddening my bottom, Paul asked me how I was enjoying my day out and all I could do was scrunch my face. I was enjoying it very much, but I felt strangely camera shy when asked to comment directly, especially since I’ve put a lot of effort into training myself not to look at the camera during spanking videos (a concept I had difficulty grasping until more recently than I’d like to admit). I think I ended up blushing and bashfully looking at the ground and saying “I guess.” That’s me. The queen of articulation right there! You can watch this spanking sometime soon on Kitchen Sink Spanking. It’s not available yet, but will be before too long.)
I spent a while working on another project under the tree, and then spent a little bit more time swinging just for fun before we climbed out of the branches and back into the real world. We got back into the car and drove to a piece of civilization where we found a cafe to eat a late lunch, which was extremely delicious. Soon, it was time for me to go shoot my custom video, so Paul stayed in the town to hang out while I drove off up a big hill. The place which Pandora (Jones, not Blake) had found for us to shoot was a strange but magical little hippy commune nestled in the hills. She’d rented two little houses there. Odette and I arrived around the same time and went off to find Pandora and Samantha, but we got distracted by a treehouse on the way. Odette climbed up and I snapped a picture:
I like being around Odette because she’s one of the only people I know who is more eager to do fun (ridiculous) things than I am, even if hanging out with her does make me feel like a giant.
We met up with the other two girls, and I gave Pandora such a giant hug. She’s the lady who helped me do my first ever kinky shoot, the first person who ever tied me up and has been a beloved friend for years, but I haven’t seen her since before I left for South Dakota. She’s living on the East Coast now, but was visiting LA for a little bit. It was so good to be back around her, even if we only got to see each other for a couple of hours. It was awesome to meet Samantha. I’d seen her work for a long time, and was glad to get to work alongside her! She’s even prettier in person and relaxed, friendly and down-to-earth.
Before we filmed, Odette showed us her Google Glass, which she’s using to make the ultimate POV experience these days. I knew very little about them, so she explained a lot of what they can do and I was very impressed. We then filmed the custom pretty directly, then spent a little while hanging out. I couldn’t stay and talk for as long as I would have liked to, but it was great to have the time that we did.
I had parked on a dirt road which was also a hill, which made getting out of the commune tricky. My car slid down the hill and ended up in a pile of leaves and debris off the edge of the road. Somehow, I didn’t panic, and instead put the car in neutral, got out, cleared the brush away from the back wheels and then pushed the car back onto solid terrain. Ha! Such a grown up!
I then went and picked Paul up and we headed home, where I made us a pot roast with roasted carrots and potatoes for dinner and we spent the rest of the night catching up on work before it was time for snuggles and bed.
PS- Yes! I’m back! Except more posts soon! ♥
Last Thursday, I got up in the morning after having hardly slept at all. I’d gone to sleep at my bedtime like a good girl, but I found myself just lying there, unable to relax into the sleep I knew that I needed. When I got up, it was going to be a busy day, and I needed the energy, but I was pulsating with excitement and could hardly lay in one position very long. The next time I went to bed, it would be with Paul. How could I possibly sleep when I knew that it was down to the HOURS before I’d see him? It’s annoying, the way that my body responds to excitement. If I could have just slept, the ten hours I ended up staying in my bed for would have flown by. My boyfriend from High School used to describe sleep as “Time Travel.” He’d intentionally sleep as much as he could leading up to things he was looking forward to. Me? I tied my covers in knots with my tossing and turning and looked at my phone to see what time it was every five minutes. Finally, around 7 AM, I fell asleep.
When I woke up at 10:30, I had the worst sleep-eyes I’d ever experienced, and hardly even looked like a human. This called for some teabags soaked in ice water resting on my closed eyes for fifteen minutes. Now, I’m someone who has stood in corners for long periods of time rather habitually, and I’ve waited in other boring, unpleasant ways, too. This time passed impossibly slowly, though. I thought that my timer was broken about eight times. In about the twelfth minute, there was a knock on the door. I was expecting mail, so I answered it. It turns out that it was a couple of people wanting to talk religion. They asked if my parents were home, and I told them they were not (in fact, they’re very far away!) so they left. I suppose the teabags must have worked, if I was being back to being mistaken as a child.
After this, I got to work doing housecleaning. I’d been preparing for Paul to come back in various ways ever since he left. I had set up a garden area in the back yard, complete with plants, yard chairs, a small table and a little outdoor fireplace (inspired by the fact that Paul had mentioned several times that he missed sitting by a fire in the evening, since few homes in Los Angeles have fireplaces, it seems). I had done lots of cleaning and organizing in the house, adding little touches here and there to make it feel more put together. And for the past month, I’d been coloring a “Welcome Home” sign for him, working on it a little bit each day. I’m not really “good” at arts and crafts (the thing I’m best at making is a mess!) but it came out very cute. It’s quite obvious that I drew it, and I think that’s what counts. Anyway, I wanted the house to be as spotless as possible, so there was tidying done, laundry and dishes washed and put away, floors scrubbed, the bathroom cleaned and so on. When it was finally done, I cut some flowers that were growing in an area that I consider to be part of my yard (there has since been some debate as to whether these were technically not mine) and filled vases with them. I set the sign on the bed. Things looked perfect, and I was very pleased.
Next, it was time to make myself presentable, since I pretty much looked like some kind of cleaning wench at this point. I ran myself a bath, where I quickly washed my hair and face, then put a hair mask on my hair, wrapped it up in a towel to sit, coated my face with a delicious smelling treatment from Skinfood (mmmm, strawberries!) and added a fancy bathbomb to the water. To make thing more interesting, I added a Crayola tablet which turns the bath water colors, so I was soaking in floral scented, pink water. This, my friends, is the life.
Now, months and months ago, Paul and I had been in the drugstore looking for something else when I had come across these water coloring tablets. We had the following conversation:
Me: Paul, may I have this?
Paul: No, you can’t have that. It’s likely to stain the bathtub.
I’m sure I then whined quite a bit about how unfair this was, but Paul held his ground. A couple of weeks ago, I had been in the grocery store looking at bath products (they’re one of my obsessions, as bath-taking is borderline fetishistic for me) when I rediscovered these colored tablets. I was already buying more bath stuff than I needed (milk-bath mixture, chamomile bubble bath AND scented sea salts) but they looked just as appealing as they had the first time I had seen them. Who doesn’t want to take a bath in brightly colored water? How fun! (Un)fortunately, this time, I was all alone and unsupervised in the store. Somehow, I managed to convince myself that Paul had meant that I couldn’t have any bath colors THEN, not that I couldn’t have them EVER. Clearly, that’s what he meant. In fact, I was sure that he said “Not today” somewhere in that conversation, which meant that since it wasn’t that day anymore, it would be just fine for me to buy them. Besides, I had been very good recently. There would be no consequences to this action. Of course not. Just fun, colored water.
So, yesterday, I soaked in the pink water happily until it was time to get out. I spent a while getting ready and making myself look as cute as I could:
Then, I went out to my car. It was only 5:45, and Paul’s flight wasn’t scheduled to land until 7:15 and then he had to go through immigration, but I wanted to be there early. I wanted to find the door that he would have to come through to get to baggage claim and pounce him with the biggest hug ever. I didn’t want to waste one possible minute that we could be being together upon his arrival. In fact, thinking about seeing him again in the airport had temporarily replaced spanking scenarios as my night time, pre-sleep fantasy. So, I would get there very early and have time to prepare for this.When I got out to my car, it had a mostly flat tire, probably caused by the fact that I had recently sort of scraped against a wall while reversing through a tight space.
Fortunately, I had time to go to the gas station and put air in, which I did very carefully as I was wearing a short skirt and had just spent about an hour in the bath, but I then had to return home to wash my hands and knees off from kneeling on the ground and touching the wheel. Soon, I was back in the car and I entered the airport into my GPS. I was reminded that portions of the 405 are currently closed or seriously delayed. The 405 would have been my best route to the airport, but I chose to take a more complicated route instead to avoid the 405.
Unfortunately, it seems, so did everyone else. It took me an hour and a half to travel a distance which usually takes me about 40 minutes, and the whole time I was worrying that I’d done the tire pressure wrong and my car was going to exploded, or that Paul would get through customs and not have anyone to greet him.
Finally, around 7:40, I pulled into the parking lot at the International Terminal. I raced down, but went in the wrong door and ended up in a part of the airport which primarily had its signage in Japanese. As I was semi-frantically running around, I got a text from Paul saying that he was outside. I had no idea where that was.For a second, “MISSION FAILED” appeared across my vision, but I managed to keep from falling apart. I felt really, really sad that he had gone all the way through baggage claim without being intercepted by my giant hug. I found a doorway to the outside world, and was attempting to text and walk at the same time when a familiar voice said “Boo!”Then Paul was standing in front of me, and I fell into some kind of confused trance, overwhelmed with feelings. I fell into aforementioned giant hug, which turned into a long, passionate kiss.
After this, I sort of bounced around, talking about many things that didn’t really relate to each other. I was in a state of giddy, hyperactive derealization. This has always been sort of a “problem” for me in my relationship with Paul (I say “problem” in quotation marks because there’s nothing actually bad about it, but I don’t know what else to call it). I sometimes interact with him in a daze because it’s difficult for me to believe that he’s really here, that a person as wonderful as him is real and that I’m actually loved the way that I am. It leaves me in a perpetual state of wonder and gleeful amazement, but then, the world felt almost unreal.But it was real. This is my life.
I apologized for not having been at the very first door I could have been, and explained what had happened and Paul didn’t seem too disappointed. In between my talking a mile a minute about whatever was popping into my head at that moment, I asked if it was alright for us to grab some groceries before going home. When I had cleaned the kitchen, I realized that the cupboards were primarily bare except for candy. File that under “the dangers of leaving me unsupervised.”As we drove to the grocery store, I chatted about all the things I had done that day to get ready for his arrival. When I got to the part of the story about my bath, there was an awkward little pause. We were stopped at a red light, which seemed as good a time as any to bring this up.
“Paul?” I asked, my voice sounding quiet and vulnerable.
“Yes?” he responded, obviously aware of what usually came out of my mouth when my voice sounded this way (either a request for something I feel shy to ask for or a confession of some sort of bad behavior).
“Do you remember the day that we were in the store and we saw those bath tablets which change color?” Paul confirmed that he remembered. “You told me that I couldn’t have any, but you didn’t actually mean that, right?”
Paul’s face was a mixture of annoyance and confusion, with traces of amusement showing through under the stern. “Why would I have not meant it?”
“Maybe you meant that I couldn’t have any just then, but I could have it another day?” I explained.
“No. I told you you could never have any, because they’ll stain the tub,” he told me, shaking his head.
“But they didn’t stain the tub! It’s fine now!” I rebutted. I reeled back for a moment, realizing that I had admitted my disobedience. Paul gave me a serious look. “Am I in trouble?” I asked very meekly.
“Yes,” Paul said, leaning in close to me. “I’m going to have to spank you for this when we get home.”
Being spoken to this way, by him, in person, for the first time in ages sent my mind spinning off into a happy place and I had to focus on driving very intentionally when the light changed again.We got groceries and then went to an all-night diner for some food, where we both ate breakfast. We sat together on the same side of the booth and cuddled. By then, I was getting sleepy from my lack of sleep the night before, and I can’t imagine how tired Paul was after his long day of international travel. We returned home, where I showed him my series of surprises: the garden area, the little touches I’d added to the kitchen and living room, the way that I’d finally gotten the study set up (as it had previously doubled as a storage room until I had tackled it recently) and then my sign. He was thrilled by everything, but especially pleased with the sign. After looking at all of this, he carefully unbuttoned my dress and pulled it off.
“You did something that I told you not to while I was away, didn’t you?” he asked me, his voice a mixture of sternness and affection. I played with my hair and looked down.
“Yes, Paul,” I whispered. He scolded me about the bath tablets (although he ultimately agreed that I could keep them, since they don’t actually stain anything) for a moment before turning me over his lap.
I know that there have been many times in my life when I needed to be spanked very badly. There have been long spells where I was strongly desiring play and just not getting it. There were also the first eighteen years of my life before spanking became a reality and when it had only been a fantasy. Still, it was hard for me to think of a time when I wanted to be spanked more. There was none of the anxious apprehension which had surrounded my first spanking adventures, and none of the guilty hangups that had come into play when I was not getting spanked due to relationship problems in the past. Everything about this was right, and I lingered in each moment.
I was shocked by how hard the first smack was. It echoed in the room and made me gasp. I was aware that my bottom was probably extremely sensitive, considering that I had been playing much less frequently while he had been away, yet all I felt were endorphins. Within a few smacks, I dived directly into a place which has often been illusive to me in my years as a spankee: the floaty, subspacey place where spanking just feels good. Everything felt amazing, and my response was to gasp and push my bottom up to meet Paul’s hand as it descended again and again and again.
I didn’t wiggle: I writhed happily. After some amount of time had passed (I have no idea how long it actually was, since it felt like both an age and a moment) he pulled me up onto his lap for another kiss, an we spent a while kissing, cuddling and enjoying each other. After a bit of this, he turned to me and said “I’m not done spanking you yet” and directed me back over his lap, where he continued to spank me very hard and I continued to offer absolutely no resistance: I had nothing to resist. It was the greatest feeling ever. I cooed and purred.
Eventually, he paused and talked to me, rubbing my bottom gently.”You belong to me, Alex,” he affirmed me, “and I’ll smack your bottom until it’s red and sore whenever it pleases me.”
I shivered with delight. There was no part of me that was focused on anything but the fact that I belong to him and love him. By the time the spanking was finished, my bottom felt hot and swollen, and as I calmed down and caught my breath I became aware of how stingy it was. I changed into pajamas (new ones that I’d been saving for his homecoming) and became suddenly very aware of how tired I was. Soon, we were curled up in our bed together, and the world was a place where everything was right and good.
It’s time for me to wrap up my Year in Review with the final few months! Hooray!
September was a funny month. Paul arrived in Los Angeles, and I was overwhelmed with joy at this. Although we were together and I was extremely happy about this fact, our lives were still very much in a transition period. We were staying at Rafa and Zeki’s place and sleeping on a sofa-bed which was not really meant for long-term use as a bed. All of my things remained packed in my car and we were living out of suitcases. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but I was still happy. We were originally going to move into the same building as them, but decided to look into renting houses instead for a bit more privacy and a heightened feeling of domesticity. We found a place and went through all the infinite hassles associated with moving, and spent the rest of the month doing things like finding appliances and furniture and doing approximately a million and ninety eight loads of laundry (since everything smelled like a stuffy car). Finally, by the end of the month, we were basically moved in.
When we first arrived in Los Angeles, our playing was at the minimum, since we were not only staying in someone else’s space, but in a vanilla home. We still did sneak in a couple of scenes, though, including this one, which has been previously unshared:
One day, I was missing Bad Alex quite a bit so I decided to say hi to her. I did this by texting her the message “Suck a dick” because this is the way that Bad Alex and I treat each other.
Bad Alex and I then had some enjoyable banter and chatted a bit. Unbeknownst to me, however, she had sent Paul a carefully worded and very formal Fetlife message letting him know that I had “suggested that she do something very unsanitary” and that she was “concerned” about my status as a good girl if I continued using this sort of language. Anyone who had ever met Bad Alex would roll their eyes and groan at her attempt to make herself sound like the good one in this friendship. Unfortunately, at this point, Paul had never met Bad Alex.
I don’t mean to say that he actually believed that I was being bad, but he certainly wasn’t going to let a perfectly concocted scenario for me to be in (not for serious) trouble pass him by. Here began a very unfair development in my life in which Paul started “believing” whatever Bad Alex told him and conveniently looking in the other direction when she was antagonizing me. Most unfair thing ever. Harrumph!
On this particular afternoon, it just so happened that no one was in the place where we were staying except for the two of us. Admittedly, Bad Alex must have cared very much about me getting punished, since she put careful work into her tattling letter of lies and misrepresentation. Paul kept a straight face while he scolded me about not using such harsh language and treating my friends with more respect than that, then he marched me into the room in which we were staying and retrieved his cane from one of the suitcases. I hadn’t been caned by Paul since June, and my heart was aflutter with anticipation. Even when it’s a play punishment as opposed to real discipline, Paul takes a very serious attitude towards my correction and I felt sheepish and somehow, a bit shy when he instructed me to strip down to my panties and lie over the bed. Being undressed made me feel vulnerable, but it also made me feel more pacified, and I slipped into a comfortably submissive headspace. Where a moment ago, I had just been inches away from a tantrum at how unfair it was to listen to anything that Bad Alex said about me (or really, anything ever), I had given up on my protests and accepted the fact that, “fair” or not, I was going to be caned. First, I got a short but firm spanking to serve as a warmup, and I was shocked by how sensitive my thighs had become. Just a few sharp smacks to them made tears start to roll down my face. This was a good thing. I needed this, and I knew it.
This isn’t to say that I didn’t resist the caning which followed, because I certainly wiggled and cried out and came questionably close to breaking position.The strokes were fairly hard, and I felt the impact deep in my muscles. As I lay still and cried, I felt an enormous sense of relief, though. A lot of stress had accumulated in my life, and there’s nothing which reassures me more than being lovingly beaten. I felt tremendously secure, as painful, fiery reminders of how loved I am lit up my bottom and the backs of my thighs. I had entirely forgotten that I was being “punished” for my rude behavior towards my bad counterpart until all the strokes had been delivered and I was getting my requisite cuddles, when Paul reminded me that I was to take a picture of my welts and send it to her. On a certain level, I probably should have thanked her for facilitating a scene which had left me in such a good place, but I had too much pride for that, and I included many scrunchy faces in my message containing the above photo. But, I suppose I’ll say it here, what the hell. Bad Alex is a very good friend, and just like sometime I need to fall under her bad influence, I also sometimes appreciate all the effort that she puts into seeing me getting properly punished, even if it’s for things I didn’t do. ^_^
October was a very happy month, as it was the first one that we spent fully in our new home. Moving in was mostly done, and I had a chance to explore the neighborhood a bit more. Unfortunately, one day I tried to walk to Target and instead, ended up walking two plus miles in the wrong the direction without any water, on a hot day, and while I was wearing inappropriate footwear for doing miles of walking. I had to call Paul to come rescue me when I realized that my feet were about to bleed, although I knew that I would be in big trouble for my impromptu misadventure. This is what happened after he did:
“Are you mad?” I asked, my voice small and meek.”You’re going to be punished when we get home” was his only response. We drove back in silence. I could do nothing but think about how thoughtless this had been. I’d interrupted Paul’s working. I had entirely failed at taking care of myself. Tears ran down my face, and I sniffled a bit.
As soon as we got in the door, Paul turned to me and said “Go to your room.” I went into our bedroom and flopped on the bed. I didn’t want to stand up. My feet hurt too much. I was hot. I was tired. I was in big, big trouble. I lay there like a lump, doing an activity which really can’t be described as anything but “sulking.” In the seeming eternity (but actually one or two minutes) before Paul came in I could hear him moving around in the kitchen. Then I heard the sound of a cabinet being opened and shut again, and my heart began to pound.
There’s a shallow, white cabinet in the kitchen. It’s separated from the other kitchen cupboards and obviously original to the house, but it’s only about three inches deep. I’m not sure what it was used for, but it’s become the official storage place for some of our meanest implements.
I wanted to mope about the fact that I was about to be seriously corrected, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I knew that I deserved it. Still, my tummy hurt.
Paul finally came into the room holding a cane. I had sort of known that was going to be the end of this story from the moment that I realized that I had messed up so badly, but the reality of the situation was sinking in very quickly.
In addition to feeling upset about how thoughtless my actions were, I had been really focused on worrying that Paul was mad at me for inconveniencing him. Having to stop your work to go rescue a silly girl who got herself into a mess is bound to annoy anyone. But once he began to scold me, I realized that he was much more upset about the fact that something bad could have happened to me. I felt very loved as he lectured me about thinking before I did things and taking care of myself. I could feel how precious I am to him, and how he won’t let any harm come to me, even through my own poor judgement.
Then he ordered me over the bed and began to spank me. While technically a warmup, he started hard and furiously. In my tired, vulnerable state, I pretty instantly started to sob hard, offering absolutely no emotional resistance to the spanking. I needed it. I knew that.
I felt impossibly sore after the warm up, but this was probably mostly because of my mental state at the time. Then Paul ordered me to kneel up on the bed, which I did quickly. I kept my feet off the edge of the bed because they had gotten filthy as I was walking around on the dusty sidewalks in flip flops. Paul noticed this, too, and said “You’ll clean your feet after this,” which I quietly affirmed through my tears. “Get down on your elbows,” he told me, and this made me cry harder, but I did as I was told. This position means only one thing: strokes to the tender area where my thighs and bottom meet. Paul then tapped my bottom with the cane before simply saying “Ten.”
The first stroke startled me into some sort of clarity for a second, although after the initial crack, during that long moment when the pain begins to built and develop, I felt overtaken by hurting and began to cry again. The next two or three were quickly paced– no time for one to finish building before the next and I could make no attempt at processing them. I wailed. After five strokes, he gave me a little break, pressing his hand against the welts in the same motion that I do when a beating is over. The pressure seems to hold the pain in for a moment. I caught my breath, but didn’t slow my sobbing.
The next two strokes were to that aforementioned tender area. I did my best not to yell, but I felt an overpowering warmth: burning, biting, pinching, gnawing heat. The rest of the strokes came in quick succession, and after each one, my cries became louder and more desperate.
It’s a very good thing that we live in a house instead of an apartment. I’m….noisy.
When the whole thing was over, Paul immediately sat down on the bed and pulled me onto his lap, holding me close to him. I wiped tears all over my face in some attempt of cleaning myself up and apologized over and over. He stroked my hair and told me he forgave me.
October also brought Crimson Moon’s Halloween party, which was amazingly fun. There were a lot of extremely fun events, and the party had such a relaxed, drama-free environment. Drlectr and Mama Blue ran a “Detention Room” roleplay, and I loved waiting outside the “office” to be called in to be punished, being scolded and paddled by a very stern Principal Lectr and having Mama Blue witness the entire proceeding! There was also Trick-or-Treating, and Thursday Night, Bad Alex and I had a ton of fun hiding alcoholic drinks in our treat bags as we ran from door to door. The majority of the treats bore stickers, though, and every time you grabbed a stickered treat from the bag that your “friendly” neighborhood Top was offering you got spanked! In the end, we ended up taking Naughty Freckles to CP Court for putting so many damn stickers on the candy. Speaking of Court, Strict Dave gave his usual awesome performance, although the majority of the cases were against Bad Alex. At one point, she flipped someone off while on the stand and Strict Dave gave her “the seven foot strap” for contempt of court. That was quite impressive to watch!
At this party I also got to witness Robert Wolf proposing to Lily Starr, and their “scene marriage” which followed. At the time, Robert and I hadn’t been able to play together in about a year because our party schedules never seemed to line up, but afterwards, I assured him that he had made me cry plenty that weekend! They’re one of my all time favorite couples. It’s so obvious that they have boundless love and respect for one and other, and being around the two of them makes my heart so happy. My face was wet with happy, heartfelt tears by the time Yoni, who officiated the scene marriage, announced that Robert could “now spank the bride”!
I got an ear infection as the party drew to a close, and flying home with it was definitely not fun. I was pretty insistent that it was going to go away on its own and that I did not need medical attention, but eventually, I had to admit that it was one of the more painful things which had ever happened to me and I needed a doctor. Once I had antibiotics and eardrops, I was on the mend, but I was home sick on Halloween night. I was very glad I had gotten my Trick or Treating in beforehand!
November introduced a concept which was obviously fairly new to me: staying home. I spent the entire month in Los Angeles, and the next two weeks, too! This six week “at home” spell made for the longest time that I had been in one place all year, and it was a wonderful feeling. I did lots of sessions, a handful of shoots and Paul and I spent a lot of time working on our new project: Kitchen Sink Spanking. We did a lot of playing off-camera, too, including a very fun roleplay scene one evening which I hadn’t written about before:
One night, Paul and I were hanging out on the sofa hanging out, without any real plans for what we’d be doing with the rest of our evening. I had my planner out, probably because we’d been discussing when I had what going on. I use the same kind of day-planner that I did when I was actually in high school. I learned to organize my life with it very effectively then and I just never bothered to change. If it works, why mess with it? I pointed out to Paul that it had all sorts of handy information in the back: state capitols, frequently misspelled words and more. This turned into some impromptu quizzing, which I inedibly failed at (geography is my weakest subject, and despite being very good at writing, I sometimes kind of fail at spelling). This, of course, lead to me getting spanked. This was very fun, and there was no reason for it to stop there, so Paul started looking for other things to quiz me on.
“Well, if you’re going to ask me more questions, I’m putting on a uniform so we can do this properly,” I announced, and I went off to find one. Paul also changed, going for a serious look in a shirt and tie. We then began a roleplay which evolved totally organically, without us having to discuss what we’d be doing at all. It turned out that I had gotten thrown out of school for biting another student (guilty as charged, by the way, if the other student was Mila or Bad Alex, who I may or may not have bitten again just the other day) and I was being given in-home instruction during my suspension. I now had to take a test to see if I’d be permitted back to school based on my efforts while homebound. I’m pretty sure that Paul thought that I’d be able to answer most of the questions that he asked during the test, but I actually couldn’t. I think that English and American educations are pretty vastly different. Or maybe it’s just a result of the fact that I took my post-secondary education at a Liberal Arts school. I can tell you the social and political concepts behind most (well, that seems arrogant. Many?) historical events, but when Paul asked me for the dates of things, the best answer I could give was “fuck if I know!” International Capitols? I don’t think I *ever* studied those in school. I was in pretty big trouble when I realized that the section I was doing best on was math. Oh dear.
Suffice to say, I didn’t get enough points to allow me back into school, and I engaged in some serious misbehavior in the process. Mr. Kennedy went off to find something with which to address these issues and he returned with a heavy leather paddle, which I insisted was not for use on me and had been left in the house after having been used to punish some other young lady who lived there before me. This didn’t fly, and I found myself getting soundly spanked. I was soon repentant, and I promised that I’d do better, bite no one and show respect for my school if allowed back. Satisfied with this, Paul sat me down to write lines while he stepped out for a moment. I *tried* to sit quietly and write “I am not a bear” (being a bear had been an excuse for biting) over and over again, but eventually, boredom took its toll and I finished off with “I am not writing this anymore” instead. Unsure of what I would do next, since being caught with this assignment unfinished would surely lead to more correction, I went and hid in on the floor of the study’s closet with the door shut. This would have worked out for at least a little while, except that when Paul returned he found our cat, The Punk, sitting in front of the closet door, meowing and scratching at it. My own cat sold me out, giving away my exact location. This was too funny to let pass, and when the door opened, the game was over, and we both had a laugh about my traitorous feline.
Paul and I had a sweet (and delicious!) Thanksgiving at home together: his first Thanksgiving ever! The next day he had to leave to go back to England for the next several months (he’s still there), so it was a bittersweet time.
I kept myself as busy as possible during the month of December, so I wouldn’t feel too lonely without Paul around. This involved seeing Maddy Marks and Christy Cutie as often as was possible, and doing lots of vanilla outings with Rafa and Zeki. After the first half of the month had passed, I flew to New York where I visited my family and had some spanking adventures, which I will spend less time dwelling on here since they are in far more recent memory. I spent a few days staying with Sarah Gregory, and we had lots of girly fun, plus I got to be spanked under the Christmas tree for her site’s Christmas special. I also got to meet up with, and get spanked by Kelly Payne for Tantrum Trainers, as described here:
That shoot was very laid back and a lot of fun. I get along really well with Kelly, and I certainly consider her one of my friends. We chatted a bit and caught up before we did our scene. It was very long and quite hard, plus it was all done over the knee. I’m wearing some shimmery stockings. This made me very happy. Kelly spanked me so hard for so long with her hand that she actually got a blood blister during the shoot. Fortunately, she had a paddle nearby to switch to nearby. That paddle stung crazily. The hand-spanking had been long and thorough, and it had sort of mesmerized me. My whole existence was hot and swollen as smack after smack fell on my bottom. The paddling cut through that, making each swat a strong peak of sensation. I was actually thinking about this while I was being spanked, at first, before it overwhelmed me: I was imagining making meringue, and watching as “stiff peaks form” as the recipe describes it. I felt like such peaks of sensation and pain were forming for me. Eventually, though, everything blurred together as I reached the point of being overwhelmed (in a good way, of course). I started to cry and to apologize and, near the end, started to have trouble talking. You know a video has actually pushed me when I start insisting that I can’t talk anymore near the end of it (or, in the case of this more severe video, quite early on in the spanking!).
Erica made a post a little while ago about not being able to articulate what happens in her mind during a spanking. I have the same experience. Once it reaches a certain point, it overwhelms my brain’s ability to break sensation down and put it into language. One minute I’m interpreting my spanking through a visual metaphor relating to pie-making, the next, there are no words. It’s just… there. Everything in my mind is the spanking and it exists in a place which, despite my efforts, I can’t reach to describe with language. This is something which commonly happens to me in my “real life” play (it’s pretty normal for Paul to try to talk to me while cuddling me after a scene and for me to insist that I “can’t brain”) but only happens on film every now and again, so it was kind of exciting.
I had actual Christmas with my family: a lowkey event without decorations or a tree or anything like that, since my mom was just moving into her new home post Hurricane Katrina AND was wheelchair bound following a broken hip. New Year’s eve was spent playing Katamari Damacy with my brother. In a certain way, it seemed fitting to end my year of transition without really fully diving into the holidays. The year had been that way. It was chock full of special moments that I’m going to treasure forever, but they weren’t on the days that the calendar tells us to make memories.
My 2014 has been going well so far. I’ve been living up to my resolutions to finish getting as set up in my new home as possible and to read more books. I haven’t, however, been keeping up with my blogging the way I wanted to. It’s been a long time since I posted as regularly as I’d like to. Before, this was because I was constantly traveling, then it was because I was focusing on getting settled in my new place. Recently? It’s been because I’ve been intentionally keeping myself as busy as possible to keep myself from being lonely while Paul is away. This means that I’m rarely ever at home and not doing anything, which has done wonders for my mood but horrors for my blogging! Fingers crossed I can keep posting on a regular basis! ♥
It is now time for me to share my adventures in the next four months of 2013, continuing on from my last post.
Oh, May. May is my favorite month of the year, and always has been. I have seasonal depression (SAD) and, unfortunately, I spent the bigger portion of my life living in places where April was still quite solidly a winter month. Sure, there were spring days in April, but they were teases. April came into my room and took her top off, got me really excited, then “got tired” and left for the night, never to return. May, however, has always consistently delivered. I meet Springtime with a passionate euphoria. I love everything about it. I love the smell of grass, the greenness of the world, watching buds grow and swell and then finally bloom. I love spring rain, flowering trees, the return of song birds and the off chance of meeting a baby animal in the wild. This May, my entire life went to bud as I emotionally began to recede from a long and cold period of winter. By May, there was no denying that I was deeply and passionately in love with Paul. At the start of the month, I went down to Texas to see Mila, WYO and LLB. They all constantly commented on the fact that they had never seen me so happy. I couldn’t remember ever having been so happy, either. To quote James Wright, “Suddenly, I realize that if I stepped out of my body I would break into blossom.”
During my visit to Texas, Mila and I had lots of wacky hijinxes, I got soundly spanked by WYO, I had more root beer floats than a girl is probably supposed to in a week, I ate the world’s most delicious barbecue and I spent a long time lying by the pool or soaking in the hot tub with LLB. After that, I took a week or so back in South Dakota before heading to Denver, where I hung out with Amoni some more, visited with my friends DarkSteven and DarkStevensGirl, hung out with Sophie and Danny and filmed for Real Spankings again. Then, after I’d been there for about a week, Paul came to visit me. It was our first time being together as a couple, as our relationship had grown and developed in the time since I had left England. I was a jittery mess as Amoni took me to meet him at the airport; entirely unable to contain my excitement. Finally, I saw him from across the room and ran into his arms. Time seemed to stop for a while as we kissed passionately.
I wrote about the first night that we arrived at the cabin where we spent nearly two weeks, but I didn’t ever tell any other stories. So, instead of picking a clip from my writing about that month, here are a few scenes which I’ve never (publicly!) written about before:
On one of our first days there, I packed us a lunch of sandwiches, pretzels and lemonade, plus a whole container full of gummy bears for me and we went on a picnic for lunch. I had a lot of fun frolicking around, and on the way, we saw a whole troop of adorable young Elk. Afterwards, we went to a lake which was actually a dam of some sort, with something to do with a very big tube transporting water in a way which was somehow impressive (this is really showing how much attention I was paying during this field trip! I was mostly looking for more animals to befriend! -_-) and which Paul was very interested in. We followed a path up a hill so that he could see some sort of building relating to this, and I played around, climbing on things and doing whatever it is that I do when left to my own devices for a few minutes.
“You know what else places like this are good for?” Paul asked me, once he had finished what he was doing.
“Climbing on rocks?” I asked, as I hopped down. I gently caressed my face.
“Smacking my naughty girl’s bottom outdoors,” he told me, sitting down on the rock I had just been chumbling over. There was no one around and no sign that anyone would be approaching anytime soon. There weren’t even any woodland creatures to witness my spanking, as my search for them earlier had been a total bust. Yet I still felt shy and coy as I slunk over to his side and carefully positioned myself over his lap. The air was cool on my bottom as he lifted my skirt, and the first SMACK seemed impossibly loud. Besides being noisy, and delightfully embarrassing, the crisp mountain air made my bottom feel more sensitive, and I soon found myself wiggling as the smacks continued to fall. This scene didn’t last long, but it was incredibly exciting. I was wearing a particularly short dress that day, and I kept holding it down in the back as we walked back to the car, which made Paul laugh.
A few days before this scene took place, I had been sitting on Paul’s lap getting snuggled while he was seated at the desk in the cabin’s study (presumably he’d been trying to do work, but I had required attention and had climbed on him, a behavior which has become a staple of our daily life). Eventually, though, mischief took over, and I had opened the drawer of the desk to discover that there was a piece of chalk there. Paul was wearing a black shirt. It seemed that the only reasonable thing to do under these circumstances was to doodle on his back while we were cuddling. He didn’t notice what I was doing, and only ever did because I couldn’t help my giggling about ten minutes later. I had been put over his lap and spanked, and I had promised never to do it again. This day, however, I didn’t feel like keeping that promise, and as I snuggled in the same position, I once again opened the desk drawer to look for the chalk. Unfortunately, Paul had been clever and had confiscated the chalk. I was disappointed, so I started to investigate what other options I had. I discovered a few colored paperclips, and I started to clip those to the back of his shirt collar.
“What are you doing, Alex?” he asked sternly.
“Nothing!” I said, as innocently as I could muster.
He reached back and pulled the paperclips off. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.
“A paperclip,” I replied, since this was the only reasonable answer to the question “What is this?” when one is holding a paperclip.
“This,” Paul corrected, “is abuse of stationary.” I snorted. “You’re going to be punished for this,” he told me. “Go sit on the sofa and wait for me.”
I galavanted off to the sofa, clearly getting what I wanted. In a minute or so, Paul returned with my hairbrush, which had been sitting on top of the dresser in the bedroom. He set it down and then pulled me over his lap. He began to spank me with his hand, quite hard and at a quicker pace than usual, and I soon began to whimper and struggle slightly, as my bottom had gotten quite sore since I was getting spanked, strapped, and caned quite regularly for the past week or so. After a few minutes of this, he began to smack the backs of my thighs. Over the course of the past six months or so, I’d been doing a lot less play which involved being spanked on my thighs, and not only had the psychological effect of it returned to a state of great potency, my skin had become less conditioned for spanking and was particularly tender. I soon started to cry out and wail, doing my best to be still but needing to be somewhat restrained with my hand held behind my back. Before I knew it, I had passed that threshold and burst into tears, but this didn’t signify any slowing in pace for the spanking (nor would I have wanted it to). It was a long scene, and by the time he finally released my hand and started gently rubbing my sore and swollen thighs and bottom, I had forgotten that he had come into the room carrying a hairbrush. No, that’s a huge lie. I was very well aware of what was lying on the ground not far from my face. I just hoped that Paul had forgotten it. In very short order, I was reminded that he had not, and he instructed me to hand it to him.
The hairbrush portion of the spanking was much shorter than the hand spanking had been, but I was sore and already crying, so it felt like it lasted forever. The particular hairbrush which he was using is primarily stingy, with a sharp bite. It has a shiny surface, and the pain of it *feels* shiny, as silly as that may sound. I was quite sure that I had a shiny surface, too, by the time that I gotten quite a few whacks with it. I did my best to take it like a good girl, though, and when it was over Paul pulled me up into a cuddle. My bottom and thighs felt like they were twice their usual size and my mind buzzed with endorphins.
“Sometimes,” he said, “I might choose to punish you particularly severely for something minor if I feel that you need it or if it pleases me to,” he told me. I felt a rush of submissive excitement at these words and basked in the feeling of unfairness, the world being entirely out of my control.
“Yes, Paul,” I whispered, clinging to him as I caught my breath. “Thank you for spanking me.”
“Good girl,” he praised.
I have approximately eleventy trillion scenes from this time that I want to eventually share, but I figure that I can always go back to favorite memories in later posts. There’s no statute of limitations surrounding writing about spankings, after all!
Our cabin adventure lapsed into June, and once we eventually had to leave (I could have happily lived in that world forever) we headed for Daytona Beach, where we attended Florida Moonshine’s Tropical Beach Party. This was the only time I had ever visited Florida, or really anywhere on the Southern Eastern Seaboard, and I had a wonderful time. The party was different than any of the other national parties. It felt more laid back and relaxed, and it had fun and exciting things about it like games run by Strict Dave and a raffle in which you could earn tickets by participating in events. That said, for the first time ever, I fell into the habit of spending a lot of private time in my room with Paul, away from the rest of the party. I wanted to spend as much time focused on “us” as possible, since once the party was over he’d be flying back to England. Again, this month I’ll share a story I haven’t done before.
One night, my friend Zoey Wicks got the insides of her thighs cropped in the middle of the party suite, and being a (horrible/lovable) instigator, my friend _Morgan suggested that I should be next for this “fun” proceeding. Previously, I had always turned down invitations to play with riding crops, unless it was for film. They seemed too “BDSM-y” for me, and the word conjured up an image of a cheap toy that couples might buy at a trashy sex store to try and “spice up” their sex life. Zoey’s scene had looked exciting, though, and the crops in question were admittedly gorgeous (London Tanner creations). I was considering taking _Morgan up on his offer, but Paul decided for me that I would, indeed, be next. He then talked to _Morgan and Rainyspanker, who had just done Zoey’s cropping, and determined that each of them would give me five strokes, each taking care of one of my legs. I’d never had a scene negotiated for me by someone else. It seemed almost objectifying in a way which was extremely exciting to me. I’m sure that I was terribly loud as I squealed and shrieked with every stroke, and Paul watched with great delight. Rainyspanker’s strokes were harder than _Morgan’s though (this might have been the first time that _Morgan and I actually played together, and he didn’t know my reactions yet, so he was dialing it back, I think). Later that evening, the marks on my left leg had bloomed into what looked like purple “tags” due to the shape of the crop, but my right leg, although still a little sore, looked fine. This asymmetry wouldn’t do, so Paul borrowed one of the crops again and took me into a back room of the suite and sat me on the bed there. Seeing him holding the crop with his shirt sleeves rolled up and a frightfully determined look on his face instantly changed my opinion of riding crops from “pretty lame” to “one of the hottest things ever.” Having no reason to hold back, his five strokes made me wail, cry and sob, but I kept my legs open and took them as well as I could. Afterwards, he ran his fingers over the fresh welts, making me whimper and moan, and we went back to our room for some aftercare.
Eventually, the day came that Paul had to leave, and I felt pretty much sick with sadness. I knew I’d be seeing him in a couple of months, but I couldn’t bear the idea of being apart. Fortunately, that day _Morgan, our friend, S. and I were leaving to take a road trip from Florida to Dallas, where I’d once again be visiting WYO and LLB before heading to TASSP. This kept me quite well distracted! After lots of awesome visiting (we were also joined by Ten and Bettycrocker) it was the time for the party, where I shared a room with Christy Cutie in Sarah Gregory’s suite, and got to know both girls much better. Christy and I became a bit inseparable, and got up to lots of naughty business, including a very hot spanking and sensation play scene with Oak during “The Dark Party” and getting spanked by a friend who we nicknamed “The Arms” due to his muscley business.
I celebrated my 26th birthday in July, including a visit to the Sioux Falls Zoo, a trip to the trampoline park, two cakes, a new Hitachi (since my old one had met an untimely end when I tried to use it overseas) and a stuffed cuddly panda named Glenn, who remains one of my best friends. I was staying with my friend VNG01 at this point, and we had adventures pretty regularly, including late night trips to IHOP complete with lots of silly banter. My life was in full-force “transition mode” at this point, as I had officially decided to leave Sioux Falls and go live in Los Angeles again, and I was living full time at VNG01’s house in the meantime. Although Malignus had broken up with me in April, it was a difficult time as I began to fully remove myself from that relationship and focus on moving on with my life. It was during this time that Paul determined that he would be coming to live with me in Los Angeles, though, so I had a glowing light of stability at the end of the tunnel of transition.
One of the most fun parts of July was my semiannual trip to Chicago for the Crimson Moon party, where I spent lots of time with Drlectr and Ten, my beloved bad counterpart (theBadAlex) and Christy Cutie, among other wonderful people. We had an epic school roleplay complete with a gaggle of naughty school girls in uniform, desks, teachers, classes and report cards. We were supposed to get our report cards signed and turn them in, but in petulant protest, I refused to have my card signed by anyone but Paul and hid it in my planner until he arrived in Los Angeles, at which point he spanked and paddled me not only for my poor grades but for getting my report card signed two months late! Bad Alex and I also engaged in an awesome roleplay with Jon83 (one of my all time favorite tops!) which I later described like this:
…We played a scene with our friend Jon83 in which we were sisters who had been caught cutting school to go to the mall by our father. I really like roleplaying with Alex when we’re not even caught yet: we just banter back and forth as misbehaving girls and giggle an awful lot. When we came back to our hotel room (in the pretend, our home) after having snuck out of school, we were greeted by Jon, who was none to pleased with us. We then started to try to lie our way out of things. My lies were things like “We just ran home to get our books!” but Alex’s were things like “It’s National Alex Day! No one with our name is allowed at school! We have the day off!” This threw me into a fit of hysterics, and it reminded me of a detail that had never been discussed: we were supposed to be sisters of the same age with the same name. We made a series of jokes back and forth to each other as we tried to figure out why this was until Jon sent Bad Alex to the corner to separate us, pointing to her and saying “That one! Go to the corner!”
This was the only time in my life that I laughed while getting a hard paddling.
Following the party, I lingered at Joe and Ten’s for a while, where Prux and I got to spend some awesome time connecting, my favorite brother, Whooperine gave me lots of cuddles, Bad Alex was a total bitch and got me in trouble by JC, who proceeded to paddle me with a Jokari and there were lots of hilarious moments in general, especially those involving Korey and James Johnson. I think that Korey may be one of the people with whom I have the most compatible sense of humor ever, and we had each other in hysterics for most of the after-party, be it about Whooperine’s “God like” teeth or a particular clicking noise that James makes under certain circumstances.
In August, I had the craziest schedule of my entire life. I headed to NYC for a week near the start of the month and everything that could have been rescheduled, cancelled or changed was, including my flight back home. I finally got back to Sioux Falls the day before Epipelagic arrived to visit me. She had planned this visit in advance, and it was meant to give me some company and a connection back to the life that I had left in Los Angeles, but with the way things were going, it turned into more of a packing frenzy, since I would be leaving Sioux Falls for good the day after she went back to LA. She was such a sweet and supportive friend, and together we managed to get everything I own compressed via spacebag and then creatively packed into my sedan for my long road trip. It was difficult (but ultimately very healthy) to say goodbye to a place that I had lived for two years, even if my experience there had been less than ideal. I had made friends who I was certainly going to miss, VNG01 in particular. Once Epipelagic was back in LA, I started my own very indirect journey to the same place. My first stop was Denver, where I had more visiting with Amoni, DS and DSG, and did one of my favorite shoots for Real Spankings, including two scenes where I got spanked outdoors! From there, I drove down to Texas again, where I had a little R+R at WYO and LLB’s place, had a girl’s day out with Princess Kelley and spent some time visiting with my good friend Finneous. On my last day there, I picked up Mila and we started our road trip to Vegas for Shadowlane. Road tripping with a very anxious Alex in a car packed to the gills with everything she owned couldn’t have been the world’s greatest time, but we had lots of fun and plenty of laughs as Mila kept me upbeat, including my mistaking a cotton gin for “a motherfucking church” or a ziggurat, an ill-fated attempt to visit “Indian Ruins” for tourism fun which turned out just to be a lame ass gift store which was NAMED Indian Ruins and Mila spilling peach juice all over herself when I braked too quickly.
Shadowlane itself was quite a whirlwind. I got to see Maddy Marks, her boyfriend, Siq, Christy Cutie and handfuls of other friends, did an epically fun shoot for Triple A Spanking with Maddy and Christy and, having absolutely no sense of self preservation, got my hands tawsed by Mr. Allen again. This time, I didn’t end up on the floor gasping for breath, but I did make a screech of pain so pitiful that it made friends on the other side of the suite concerned about me. I also had some memorable scenes during the “Spankee Hawkins” uniformed event, where girls were meant to ask the Tops to play (something I’m not good at) and I was dressed in a Girl Scout uniform.
Finally, though, the party came to an end and it was time for Mila and I to drive the rest of the way to LA. We listened to California and Los Angeles themed songs as we drove, and I nearly cried with happiness. I knew that a wonderful chapter of my life was about to begin. ♥
I can’t guarantee when the final segment of this post will go up. I’m going to be spending the night at Lily Starr’s house tomorrow, and on Thursday I’m heading to visit Joe and Ten in Indiana for the weekend. I’ll do it as soon as I can, though: my goal for 2014 is NOT to lag months behind on my posting like I did in 2013!
I’m posting this eleven days late. This potential “didn’t post to my blog as I should” punishment is probably growing. I’m going to take a moment to talk about the phenomenon of me not posting very often. In 2013, I rarely blogged as often as I wanted to, and my posts often had more than a month of lag between the event and the write-up. This has been a constant source of frustration for me, as I would like to be able to sit down and write and then post things. There are a couple of reasons why this became a trend. The first is that in 2013, I was away from home 66 percent of the year, and it wasn’t until I moved into my new house here in Los Angeles that I was ever home for more than two weeks straight without traveling. I have a hard time blogging when I’m on the road, as I often am either very busy with shoots or trying to squeeze in as much socializing as is possible. Because I was never home for very long, though, this meant that it became impossible for me to get caught up on things, which lead to me feeling frustrated and disappointed in myself, which actually isn’t a useful emotional place for me to be in and accomplish things.
The second reason is because there were parts of this year which were very difficult for me. It was the epitome of a transition period. I firmly believe that when it comes to putting things out there on the internet, if you don’t have anything nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all. During these times of stress and instability (or the depression that I fell into when Malignus first broke up with me, for example) it was hard for me to have anything worth putting on the internet to say.
The final reason why blogging hasn’t happened as much is because I’m sometimes very naughty and play too much Pokemon instead of doing my writing like a good girl. This is the reason why I need beatings. ^_^!
The other circumstances will hopefully be mitigated in the coming year (and obviously my naughtiness will be totally and entirely corrected and never be a problem again, right? That’s how spanking works? :P). I intend to spend much more time close to home. I love everything about where I live: my house, my cats, my local friends, the people I get to work with, the places I get to go, the proximity to Disneyland and, of course, being at home (most of the time) with someone I love. I’ll still travel quite a bit, especially to national parties, and I’ll likely continue to visit Denver and Dallas as regularly as I can manage (they’re filled with some favorite friends, producers and clients!) but in general, the travel craziness will be toned down.
So, with this out of the way, it’s time to remember some fun things which happened in 2013! Onward! [Please note that some of these stories contain ellipses. These are real ellipses, showing that text has been omitted in between those words to keep each story brief and readable, not punk ass “I dunno how to finish a thought” type ellipses. Kthnx.
One of my fonder memories from January was visiting Amoni in Denver, where I did my second shoot for Real Spankings. I described the final scene I filmed that day like this:
When we were discussing these last two sets, it was up to me whether I wanted to do them with my jeans on or not. For the first one, I decided to do it on the bare because cane lines always look great, and because at this point in my life, it feels kind of unnatural to get spanked over clothing since baring is nearly always a part of my spanking ritual, unless it’s something extremely impromptu or it’s part of a mind-game. Shortly after we finished filming the caning sequence, I went to get changed to do the paddling one. I had originally said that I would take the paddle swats over my jeans, but I changed my mind at the last minute. My butt was sore, sure, but I wasn’t dying. I was really enjoying getting spanked, and I really wanted to feel the spanking I’d be getting that day.
After the interview, when it came time to actually take my jeans down, I felt a little apprehensive about my decision. It’s funny how the closer a spanking gets, the scarier it becomes. But I reminded myself that this was all my choice and I wanted it to be hard and got them down.
It was hard.
I got ten swats with the paddle, and each of them made me rise up on my toes, cry out, and contort my face in pain. After the seventh, I asked for a moment to catch my breath. I took a second to just breathe as Danny gently rubbed my bottom. I felt safe and secure, and relaxed myself again, stuck my bottom back out and took the final three swats.
When it was done, I had quite a mix of adrenaline and endorphins and a very sore bottom. That, my friends, is the ideal way to end a work day. 🙂
In January I also spent a lot of time with a girl who I was involved with at the time (and still care greatly about) called Panda, I was in Sioux Falls, and it snowed. I hate the snow if I have to deal with it for more than about fifteen minutes. In retrospect, January was very much like the year before it, although the rest of 2013 was really not.
In February, I was a busy girl. I spent the first couple of weeks in Sioux Falls, but then took off for the start of a whirlwind adventure which changed my life forever! I left to go to Los Angeles, where I visited Rafa, Zeki, Christy Cutie and Maddy Marks, went to parties, did shoots, worked on projects and ate delicious food. From LA, I flew to Las Vegas for the private party now called “50 Freaks,” where I had a remarkable time and got spanked quite a bit! On the last day of the party, Robert Wolf and Lily Starr took me to the airport, where I departed for my month long adventure in England. I had one of my favorite scenes of all time while I was in Las Vegas, with Richard Windsor. We built the energy for the scene up over the course of months, with internet bratting and scolding voice recordings which left me a (happily!) quivering mess. Here’s the meat of that story:
Richard had positioned me over a barstool … I was given a piece of paper which read “MR. WINDSOR IS NOT A LITTLE BITCH” which I was to recite after each stroke. … The first stroke made me gasp and whimper. I had trouble getting my voice in order to speak to read the sentence. I think I may have actually moved my mouth without any sound coming out, like trying to bring myself to wake someone sleeping in a dark room when my mind believes that it is necessary to be entirely quiet.
“Mr. Windsor is not a little bitch,” I managed. The cane landed again, in a hot, stinging stroke. Again, I repeated the sentence. On the third stroke, I had a moment of fear when I realized that I was only a quarter of the way done with the caning. Just like the hallway had before, twelve strokes seemed impossibly long. The scene had gotten into some deep part of my brain and had twisted my senses of time and distance. It felt like a very long time before the next stroke.Sometimes, I would rush the sentence out quickly. Others, I would whimper and wail a bit, catch my breath, move my feet and then whisper. At one point, I apologized, but I was firmly reminded that it was not the time for that. When I finally read the sentence for the last time and received my final stroke, I felt like I had been in the scene for ages, when in reality, I can’t imagine that it took more than ten minutes between the first and last stroke. Each one had been memorable, though: they cut, they bit, they slashed, they buzzed and itched and chewed at me.
March was one of the most adventure filled months of my whole little life. I arrived in England on the first and returned the the US on the 30th. I had a disastrous start to my trip, but things quickly picked up and became delightful. After spending less than a day in country, I flew to Holland, where I did two days of shooting for Spanked in Uniform and Real Life Spanking. From there, I flew back to England where I was collected by Paul to go to location where we were joined by John Osborne (“The Chief”) for another two days of shooting: one for Northern Spanking and one for Triple A Spanking. This was the second time I ever met Paul, having shot for him briefly at Shadowlane the year before. I was stressed out beyond belief during my first few days of travel, and I was deeply afraid to be in places where I knew no one, and where I felt fundamentally alone. I don’t have an explanation for this, and it this isn’t something that I retroactively wrote onto my memory because I remember thinking it to be very strange at the time, but as soon as I saw Paul waiting for me from across the baggage claim, I felt secure. It turns out that wasn’t just a fleeting feeling and wasn’t just my relief at seeing a face that I recognized. It’s a feeling of security which, very soon after this, became a permanent part of my life.
We spent two days doing our shoots. I got spanked by Paul for the first time, and several times after that: despite my somewhat frazzled state at the time, I was very aware of just how well we connected, even when our scenes were for films. When shooting was done, due to difficulties (I was originally meant to stay with SF while in England, but his infant daughter passed away during my first week in the country which changed things a great deal) I ended up staying with Paul for two days, during which time we played as much as possible and pretty much spent the rest of the time cuddling. It was magical.
From there, I went to stay with Pandora Blake for over a week, where we had lots of fun spanking adventures, deep conversations and much more cuddling. I also spent about half the visit following around and harassing her cat, Fatface. Observe this passage describing my feelings:
Fatface is a big, beautiful cat. She’s fluffy and mostly white, and most of the time, she gives zero fucks about what those weird humans are doing around her. The characteristics that make me like her more than the average cat (which I already like a lot) are as follows:
1) Fluffiness. 2) Passivity. 3) Facial expressions suggesting dissatisfaction with human company. 4) Adorable cat food (or “biscuits” as they are referred to in England) seeking behavior. 5) Fat. 6) Everything.
Yep, I’m still obsessed with Fatface: enough that I considered her enough of a highlight of my year to include in this post. Anyway, In addition to doing two more days of shooting during this portion of my visit (one for Dreams of Spanking and one for Nimue’s World) I spent a lot of time playing off-camera with Pandora:
That evening, Pandora and I somehow ended up in a competition to see who could finish posting to their blog first, which aided me quite a bit in actually getting this stuff done. Pandora, however, finished her post just slightly before I did. “I beat you to posting!” she said, “Now, I’m going to beat you in real life!”
The setting of additional rules to a competition after it’s already been completed like that is tremendously unfair. When I have a certain kind of energy with someone, though, I find unfairness delightful…
Pandora offered me a warmup, which I gladly accepted, and then put me over her lap and spanked me with her hand. It had been a long time since I was spanked by Pandora, and I was glad it was happening again. I don’t feel entirely submissive towards her, so to speak, but I do feel passive towards her in play, and I enjoy her receiving her Toppiness, and I was very comfortable with her occupying Boss-space for the moment … It felt sort of invigorating and exciting to be getting spanked by her. Once I was thoroughly warm, she directed me up onto her sofa for a whacking with a fairly big, leather paddle. I cuddled up to her stuffed dog, Fred, who is known as “Drop Dog” due to his ability to drop onto your head. “Comfort her well, Drop Dog!” Pandora instructed, “she’s going to need it!” (I liked that quite a bit, too). She gave me a spanking that was neither severe nor serious, but still hurt enough, and put me in a giggly, happy, nicely spanked mood.
Our visit was wonderful, I loved both of the shoots that we did, and I was happy to get to meet some additional awesome people like Nimue Allen, Thomas Cameron and D. When visiting time was over, Paul came to get me and I went and stayed with him for the rest of my visit. This time was laid back and extremely enjoyable. I did another day’s shooting for Northern Spanking and, just before I had to leave to go back, a day for Bars and Stripes.
Leaving to go back to America was incredibly hard for me. I had, sort of unbeknownst to me, fallen into a depression in Sioux Falls over the months leading up to my trip, and while I had been in England I realized this, because I felt like myself for the first time in a long time. I felt excitable and happy and vibrant. I didn’t want that feeling to be over. I had also grown very attached to Paul, and the thought of leaving him made my heart hurt. But all things end, and my trip ended just as the month did.
April was primarily spent trying to adapt back to my life at home in Sioux Falls, although I did steal away to NYC to visit friends and do a few shoots, and to Atlantic City for Boardwalk Badness Weekend. Boardwalk was an action-packed tour-de-force of spanking, including my first time getting spanked on a boat. Another significant “first” happened at that party: my first hand tawsing experience:
Mr. Allen instructed me regarding how to position my hands, then he said:
“This is going to hurt very, very much. Don’t move your hand.”
There’s nothing like telling me that something is going to hurt to get into my head. Such a simple thing, usually the honest truth, but I have almost no defense against it. It melts my toughness. My heart pounded and pounded. Then Mr. Allen raised the tawse and brought it down on my palm.
Then I exploded.
Or so I felt. I at least screamed a little. I had never, ever, ever felt something that hurt so much. Not the longest, hardest caning in my history. Not a heavy ebony hairbrush on my thighs. Not being smacked on the tender areas near the backs of my knees. Nothing hurt like this. It was nauseating. It was disorienting. I don’t remember moving, but I discovered that I had my hand clutched between my thighs, because it was the sort of pain that I simply had to apply pressure to. There was no other choice. Holy. Fuck. I trembled.
“Other hand,” Mr. Allen instructed. I looked up at him pleadingly, but he had a stern and serious face. That confidence and his unbending nature comforted me, pacifying me enough to stand up straight again and put my other hand out. I forced it as far away from my body as I could, looking away to avert my eyes from what was going to happen.
That’s what happened. I crumbled, sort of bent in half, rocking and rubbing my aching, burning, terribly sore hands together. I knew that there was a crowd of people around, that we were playing in a suite, but I wasn’t aware of anything around me. Just the hurting. It was all that my mind could process. I didn’t even feel entirely control of the parts of my body that I normally am, unsure of how to breathe or move my muscles.
“I can’t take two more,” I told Mr. Allen. This was huge. I’m horribly proud. It’s rare for me to beg, to protest, or try to get out of something. I am, after all, the kind of girl who intentionally gets herself into situations like this. But here, I felt that I had met my match. This hurt too much. I wasn’t tough enough for two more. I just couldn’t. There was no way. I shook my head, tears soaking down my face and gathering on my sweater.
“You can and you will,” Mr. Allen told me. “You’re going to. Put your hand out.”
I wanted to protest more. I couldn’t. I might die. I might *actually* explode. My hands might come off. I was entirely beyond rationality. Instead, I felt comforted by his statement, and my panic started to fade. I felt the tranquility of being out of control, feelings of comfort in the inevitable that Malignus had taught me to embrace long ago. I could do this. I could.
I put my first hand out again. It already felt about twice it’s usual size. I closed my eyes and tried to relax into what was going to happen. I shrieked anyway, quickly devolving into sobs again.
Somehow, I got my other hand up without having to be coaxed, with Mr. Allen praised me for before bringing the tawse down the last time. This one felt like the worst one, both my hands swollen and red and sore, my world illuminated with a white strike of agony. I fell to my knees with both hands clutched between my thighs, trying to press the hurt out of them, trying to squeeze them back to feeling their normal size. I was concerned for a moment that I might throw up, but I recovered remarkably quickly as a powerful, almighty rush of endorphins came and took me over. Mr. Allen went away for a moment and returned with a bowl of ice. I buried my hands in it, and I felt infinitely better.
“You took that well,” he said as he comforted me. I laughed.
“No, I really didn’t.” I think it was the least well I had ever taken anything.
“Well, you took it. That’s something,” he said with a supportive smile.
This post is too long to begin with, so I shall break it into thirds. Next third coming tomorrow. ♥
Hi hi hi!
So, today I was made aware that apparently I wasn’t just getting the aforementioned spanking for not having been keeping up with blogging, but instead, a “severe beating.” Um… *nervous lip biting* back to our regularly scheduled posting and let’s all forget about this incident? Does that sound good to you? Sounds good to me. ^_^
Anyway, I have exciting news to share 😀
Over the past couple of months, Paul and I have been working on a project together. I really like filming videos with him: this was, after all, our original interaction, and there’s nothing better than watching the dynamics between real partners on film. We obviously sometimes film together for Northern Spanking and we’ve done scenes for other sites but, once we moved in together, we wanted to start doing more scenes with just the two of us, and doing them in a more low-key, natural, domestic setting. We wanted to capture the energy of our household and our relationship and to explore many of the various facets there in. I wanted to be able to say “Haha, that would be a funny video, grab the camera and let’s do it RIGHT NOW!” We wanted things that were naturally occurring instead of being pre-designed. We wanted to be able to sometimes do scenes that weren’t necessarily spanking scenes. It was obvious that this content needed its own home on the internet.
We spent a while trying to come up with the name of our future site. Most of this time was spent with Paul asking me what I thought would be a good idea and me saying “I don’t know, I can’t think of anything.” I’m horrible at naming things. I felt impossibly clever when I came up with “Alex in Spankingland” (although it required encouragement from my friend Sophie to convince me that it seemed good to others instead of just me). If I hadn’t happened upon it, this blog would probably just be called “Spanking Alex.” Not very creative.
Paul was the one who came up with the name for new project: Kitchen Sink Spanking. The name derives from a genre of film, television and theater which was popular in the 1950’s and 60’s in England known as “kitchen sink realism.” This genre attempted to create stories which were depictions of the dramas, interpersonal relationships, highs and lows of the daily life of regular people, and were set in apartments or houses, often centering around the kitchen instead of requiring the creation of fancy sets. I think that this fits perfectly with the essence that we were trying to capture.
Everything that we’ve filmed thus far has been in our own home, and we do it with just the two of us there. As such, the camera sits on a tripod and we don’t use a lot of equipment. As such, the films have a very different feel than the formal shoots that we do, but it’s actually very enjoyable. I find them to be delightfully voyeuristic.
Are the films simply snippets from our every day life? Not exactly. I make no claims that these videos occurred naturally, or that they’re “reality porn.” We certainly don’t just set a camera up and go about our daily lives and then edit it down to the parts that include spanking. The clips vary in verisimilitude: some are more fun and allow me to engage in fun-for-everyone whining, foot stamping and petulance (this is fun for everyone… right?!). A couple are quite serious. I like this variety. The first film is a cute story about me being first introduced to a new DD relationship, complete with a lot of the aforementioned protestation and a hairbrush spanking. It’s the first one we filmed, and we had a lot of fun doing it. The second film follows the same story, but in addition to my getting spanked it includes me getting smacked with a kitchen implement on both the fronts and backs of my thighs. This was entirely unscripted. I was surprised by how the scene had become spontaneously worse. 😛 The third, still following the same tale, gives rise to this adorable sadface:
There’s one which is goddamn adorable and simply a replay of a scene which actually happened, in which I went to Zeki’s house, made cookies with her and returned with only the tale of how good they were for Paul, who was clearly in need of biscuits. Justice was served instead:
As we went on making the videos, we started making upskirt films, which I find delightfully naughty and which excite my exhibitionist streak. There are a couple of harder scenes, and then there’s something… different. Over the course of the past eighteen months, my relationship between sexuality and kink has been developing quite a bit. While I previously described these drives as being separate and parallel, as I grew more comfortable with myself and began to have partners who were both involved in my kink life and my sex life, this division slowly began to breakdown. There’s a LOT of writing to be done about this, but 2:00 AM while seated on Sarah Gregory’s couch is neither the time nor place to attempt to tackle this topic. Suffice to say, I’ve begun to enjoy certain combinations of these activities. As such, I decided that I wanted to make my first blatantly sexually charged video. The video is actually quite intense: it’s a disciplinary caning which has a lot of energy, and which stirs up a lot of emotion in me. My bottom was already sore when we filmed this, and the strokes are hard. I cry and wail and get rather pathetic. Throughout the entire scene, though, I was very… er… aroused (and I’m very embarrassed to admit this!) and once my punishment was complete, I went to my room to fix this condition in myself. I must admit, I haven’t watched it (it makes me feel very awkward to think about doing so!), but it’s my only masturbation film out there, and it’s entirely genuine. Curious? Feel free to check it out, and I’ll have more writing about sexy-kink times later.
I do have this deep fear that people will be upset about this change in me, but it was no longer genuine to perpetuate the idea that there are no longer situations where spanking is sexual for me. I hope you all still like me, even though I no longer have a hardline stance on this issue. 🙂
I hope you consider checking out the site, as I’m quite pleased with the results myself!
Now, it’s off to the bath, and then some glorious sleep! ♥