My fourth TASSP is done, and it was a wonderful time. On the plane, as I was headed to England, I started to think about the past three years of my life in the National spanking scene, and all that has happened since I first arrived at TASSP in 2012.
I remember the overwhelming, full body anxiety I felt as I first showed up at the old TASSP hotel. What if no one liked me? What if I didn’t make friends? Could I really handle a whole weekend full of getting spanked? And play with people I didn’t know yet? Would it be weird to watch others playing? What would the activities be like?
I imagined that, realistically, I was probably going to have a pretty good time. I didn’t imagine that on that day, I was going to meet people who, upon seeing them three years later, I’d run down the hallway to tackle hug, or who would get tears in their eyes when it was time to go at the end of the weekend.
I guess what I mean to say is that I didn’t know when I first arrived at a National party that I was actually arriving at my home for the first time, that I had found a kind of acceptance and a feeling of belonging which had been lacking throughout my entire life.
I didn’t really feel it at that first party. I met people who I really liked, but in the couple of days that I was there and my shy nature back then, I didn’t get to know them that well. I think back on some of the people who I met for the first time there, and I can’t even imagine my life without knowing them. Some of them were people I spent a lot of time with at that party and never stopped wanting to spend a lot of time with. Others were people I only met in passing, but would spend more time with at other parties in the future and become fast friends.
I met someone at my first TASSP with whom it would take years, literally up until last month, for our friendship to properly blossom due to miscommunications and someone negatively influencing our ability to get along. Now, we’re finally having the friendship we should have always had, and that’s an amazing feeling. Telling her that I’ll miss her and that I was so glad we got to spend time together this weekend as I left and both of us knowing that we really meant it, finally, was one of the most refreshing feelings.
I made a friend at that party who ended up doing a lot of really hurtful and destructive stuff to me, but the spanking world can’t always be perfect. I have met people who were just incredibly toxic through the scene, yes, but it’s important to remember that for everyone who has hurt me, I’ve met countless more who have enriched my life and made it wonderful, and those are the ones I want to focus on.
I was a very different person than I am now when I first showed up. I had no idea how much I would grow over the next few years. I was very new to modeling, and almost no one knew who I was. I didn’t really even participate in most of the events for models, although I did do several shoots at that party. I worried that I didn’t fit in with the other, more established models, including some of the people who I now think of as very good friends! In general, I was pretty awkward. I was kind of still in my post-grad years where I wasn’t sure of my identity yet, and I think that the way that I dressed and presented myself suggested that to whoever was looking. I had pretty bad skin still, and didn’t know what I was doing with my hair or makeup in the least. It took me a few more years to figure this stuff out: I’m feeling pretty good about it these days, finally.
I had never switched before, and still didn’t really understand the social parts of bottoming, either. Roleplay and play punishment were still brand new things to me, and I was straight up uncomfortable with the idea of bratting. Asking people to play? That was a little much for me! Saying no to someone who asked me? That also wasn’t happening. I didn’t go to The Dark Party my first year because the idea of possibly witnessing sexual play made me nervous. I don’t remember if there was a little’s party or not at my first TASSP, because if there was, I definitely avoided it. I had not yet embraced that side of myself in the least, and was working hard to repress it.
And now? Look at how I’ve grown! I felt so in my element this weekend, whether I was bottoming, Topping, roleplaying, age-playing, giving a presentation or running an event. Like many people, I had my moments where I got overwhelmed and emotional, but I had my friends there for me, and these problems were quickly straightened out so we could all get back to enjoying the weekend. It’s hard for me to believe that three years ago, I was as meek as I was.
I see these changes in many of the friends that I first met at my first party, too. Years in the scene have helped us to find ourselves, and the friendship and support we’ve found there have helped us to grow confident. We’ve slowly been shaking off the years of shame and repression that we felt when hiding our kinks, and when we could feel safe being ourselves, we’ve truly flourished. It’s a beautiful thing to see.
The scene itself has grown and developed, too. It’s a slow process, but things are growing more diverse and accepting. This party was probably the most diverse one I’ve ever attended. There was a lot of racial diversity, people of a good mix of (18+) ages, lots of both seasoned party goers and newbies, those who were local and those who came from far away, people who are spanko purists and those from the greater BDSM scene who share our love of smacking ass, lots of LGBTQ people. I hope this trend continues to grow. It makes me so sad to think that there are people who worry they won’t be accepted in the spanking scene because of another aspect of who they are.
Dates tend to mean a lot to me, so celebrating my third years of parties by partying hard with lots of amazing people was definitely great. I can’t wait to see what the next three years bring me. I’m so ready.
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.
So, there’s a meme going around where one lists 54 things which make them happy. I can honestly say I have NO IDEA why it’s 54 things, but I’m going to give this list a go. I think of myself as a very happy person, and I take pleasure in a lot of small things, so I can’t imagine this list being all that hard for me.
1) Paul obviously starts this list, since he’s the greatest source of joy in my life. ^_^
2) My cats, especially when they’re being snuggly, but even when they’re naughty.
3) Yellow flowers, especially roses.
4) Singing along to music while driving.
5) Huffing old books to get a good whiff of that smell.
6) Snuggly pajamas, especially with cute prints.
7) Excessive keychains and phone charms.
8) Clean white bed sheets.
9) Cuddly stuffed animals.
11) Skype dates with my friends who I can’t see often.
12) Lunch dates with those I’m lucky enough to be able to get together with!
13) This flowering vine which grows in the shape of a giant pink heart which I pass on the 101 on my way to Rafa’s house. Instant smile.
14) Good zoos (like the San Diego Zoo!)
15) Wearing short, flouncy dresses.
17) Hot chocolate with a giant pile of whipped cream on top (especially served to me after a spanking and before bed!)
18) Coloring, both in coloring books and freehand.
19) The soft feeling of a really well worn, favorite t-shirt.
20) Rubbing my face on just about anything soft. Weird? Kinda. Pleasurable? Extremely.
21) Wearing heels. I used to feel embarrassed about my height and now that I don’t, it’s a source of serious happiness.
22) Flowering trees.
23) Spotting an unexpected little chumbly animal.
24) Reading about bears. Because bears. ^_^
25) Really well executed Long Takes in film.
26) Discovering a new band and realizing how much I like it. (This literally just happened with “The Lightning Seeds.” So in love with this.)
27) That feeling deep inside you get when you hear a song you love but haven’t listened to in years.
29) Jumping on trampolines.
30) The ocean. The sound, the sight, the smell.
31) Collecting shells.
32) Academic discourse.
33) Learning about subjects I previously hadn’t studied and feeling my mind open.
34) New York style pizza.
35) Revolving sushi bars.
36) Lolita dresses.
37) Crystal doorknobs.
38) The very first time I put on a new lipstick.
39) Places that never change and take you back to another time in your life.
40) The handwriting of the people I love.
42) Sending care packages to people who I miss. I love selecting just the right things.
43) Playing out in the rain.
44) Daiso. Oh god, I like Daiso too much. It’s a Japanese dollar store with shops in America. I may have spent $80 there once. 0_0
45) White cotton panties.
46) Baths, especially with delightfully scented bathbombs or salts.
47) Hot tubs, especially with Christy Cutie!
48) Stealing away for a moment of privacy in a busy place.
49) Exploring a new airport during a layover. I don’t particularly like air travel, but I do find this extremely fun. Airports in other countries are doubly exciting.
50) Objects that hold lots of memories and meaning, like my shell necklace (which currently needs a new chain), my brother’s old flannel shirts and the pink sock that my neighbor found on the block where my childhood house used to be. Some of these things seem bittersweet, but they make me happy. They’re precious objects.
51) Baking and sharing the fruits of my labor.
52) Sweet, alcoholic party punch.
53) Watching panda videos online.
54) Curryhouse, my favorite restaurant!
57) Sudden and unexpected slow dancing.
58) Unusual, fruit flavored sodas.
59) Going to Cold Stone and getting all the fruits possible in the ice cream!
60) Economy of language in poetry that shakes me to the core.
62) Welsh Corgis
64) The smell of pine forests.
Oh. I was supposed to stop about ten happy things ago. Oops. Too much happy.
Have a great weekend, everyone! Be happy!
It’s been one of the longest gaps between posts that I’ve ever had on this blog.
I’m still here, I promise. I’ve just been in a transition period in my life.
About five weeks ago, I left South Dakota with everything I owned there packed into my sedan. From there, I drove to Denver, where I visited with Amoni and shot some absolutely amazing scenes (including two outdoor scenes) for Real Spankings. From Denver, I drove straight through to Dallas, which is the longest stretch of driving I’ve ever done alone and in one go. After a few days of recovery from that, I spent some time visiting with a variety of awesome friends, doing some shopping and eating the greatest BBQ in all the land. I love the time that I spend in Texas. I got to do some filming, too, including stuff for Firm Discipline (still awaiting it’s return to the internet), Amateur Spankings and a few others! Mila and I hung out a bit, too, then I picked her up and we drove to Vegas for Shadowlane. Driving to Vegas was a long and kind of ridiculous process, but it was amazingly fun, too. The whole backseat of my car was packed solid:
We had misadventures, sisterly arguments, played car games, sang along to a lot of music, ate snacks and did other roadtriply things. We also spent a night with Heather Green and her fiance, who happened to be in the area, which was lovely! Of course, I had to get naked in nature at some point during the trip:
After that, we did eventually arrive in Vegas, where good times were had by all. I’m horrible at writing about parties, and I feel like everyone already has a good idea what Shadowlane was like from all the awesome reports that have been posted, so I’m not going to try to add to it. I will point out that I had a wonderfully fun shoot for Triple A while I was there! It had been a long time since I saw John (“The Chief”) and I was very pleased to get to spend time with him again. I really enjoy filming with him for his site because he has a high tolerance for my ridiculous ideas and we often end up making things that are a bit wacky, but very hot as well. To add to the awesomeness, we filmed with Maddy Marks and Christy Cutie as well. These girls are two of my best friends, and it’s very exciting that now we’re all living in the same city. There will certainly be NO TROUBLE coming from that whatsoever! Anyway, during filming we were all in high spirits and I got into one of my brattiest moods ever captured on film, answering back to everything and showing minimal contrition. I shamelessly stole these photos from John’s blog. Thanks, Mr. Osborne!
|Maddy and I wrestling and play-fighting, as sisterly girls are known to do!|
|I finally got to kiss Christy on film! We’ve giggled about doing this for a long time now. We’re dressed this way because we were trying to get ready for a Halloween party, so you’ll probably see this film sometime next month!|
|Naughtiest cheerleaders ever? Check!|
|Question: What do girls do in their school common rooms? Answer: look at each other’s panties, of course! Knowing all three of us, this isn’t even far removed from the truth. ^_^|
The shoot was crazy fun, and we got really lovely content. I’m quite excited to see it released!
After the party was over, we took one extra day in Vegas to walk around on the strip. Mila, Maddy, Christy and I were chaperoned around by Maddy’s boyfriend, Siq. There’s a lot of alcohol available in Vegas, it turns out, and I got..errr…day drunk. Kind of immediately. Before lunch. I’m SUCH A WINNER. Lunch did me a lot of good, though, and we had fun exploring for the rest of the day. The four of us girls were impeccably behaved, of course, and there was no whining, fighting, biting or public spanking of one and other, and I CERTAINLY didn’t make us walk approximately two miles in search of lions that no longer exist. Honestly. I promise.
The next day, Mila and I drove on to Los Angeles, where Mila visited with Raffos and Zeki for a couple of days, including an adventure to Little Tokyo in Lolita attire:
After I said goodbye to my dear and beloved sister and she was returned to Texas, I slowly but surely began the process of getting settled and creating stability. Paul arrived a couple days after Mila left, as we’ve moved in together. I know this is kind of a big thing for me to throw in as a side note, but we’ve both had a lot of changes in our lives recently, and we’ve been building a wonderful life together. Originally, we intended to live Downtown, in the same building as Raffos and Zeki, but we ultimately decided that it was not quite enough space, and a bit too urban for what we wanted and we found an adorable house in the valley. It’s been quite a process getting set up: moving everything from storage lockers, figuring out what we needed to buy and doing so, getting back my dear and beloved cats and getting them settled, cleaning, unboxing, organizing, tracking down and buying new appliances and, perhaps the most daunting task: learning to drive in Los Angeles. So far, we’re both doing quite well with it! There’s been plenty of spanking happening, too, and I’ll tell some more stories about that soon, but I can’t rightfully make a post here without including at least one picture of my reddened bottom, so here’s a teaser for the next post:
|Making a long story short, Bad Alex got me in trouble because she’s a whore.|
Speaking of the next post, I’m not positive when I’ll be able to return to my usual schedule: I don’t have internet at my new house yet. The ISP can’t set it up until October 2nd 0_0. Awful! How will I live?! I’ve written this post while visiting over at R and Z’s place. So, I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises!
I’m now going to write a series of posts about the time that Paul and I spent together at the Cabin, and at Florida Moonshine. Be warned that a lot of this is gushy and “OH MY GOD I’M SO HAPPY.” These posts, however, are not any more explicit than the other stuff that I post is.
Finally, the morning arrived on which I was going to pick Paul up. His flight schedule was super confusing to me, so I ended up getting Amoni up way earlier than was necessary. It was insanely early in the morning and I hadn’t slept much, but I was full to the brim with energy. I’m not a morning person. Paul is one of the only people for whom I can be cheerful in the morning. Usually, I’m a grumpy ball of “Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t anything. Stop existing, Universe.”
I spent a very long time getting put together that morning, making sure that everything was perfect. I knew that I could have just showed up looking like I do on an average day and he’d have thought I was beautiful, but this was the first time he was going to see me without the aid of a camera since I became his girlfriend, and I wanted it to be ideal. Because I didn’t feel like I “had to” look any particular way for him, and my girliness came from me, it felt like a sign of love.
|I bought this birds dress with Heather W. The girly feeling went well with my emotions for the day. I also had on ruffly knee socks and a slip, because that’s how to be fancy, right?|
Amoni and I got to the airport around the time that he was leaving his layover, since I was bad at the schedule (although the fact that I was early was much better than the other way!) so we went out to breakfast and did some shopping. I bounced everywhere. I was tremendously high strung and I had an insanely quick heart rate all day long. Just getting a text from Paul makes me smile uncontrollably Any form of communication makes my heart jump. Seeing him? After months? After so much had changed, grown and developed? My heart beat like a kitten’s.
Finally, we went back to the airport and watched the screens, as his flight was delayed. Amoni sat with me as I jittered, trying to sip at a cup of tea, bouncing in place. The last time Paul and I saw each other before this was at the airport in London, as I was getting ready to leave to go back to Sioux Falls. We were sitting in a cafe eating breakfast and I said “I can’t believe we’ve spent less than a month together. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
“Now you will,” he said. We were tactile then, sometimes holding hands, very often cuddling on the sofa, but still guarded in many ways. I knew that I had feelings for him then, but I didn’t know what they were exactly. It was mostly just nice. Saying goodbye had been difficult, and at the moment that it hurt so badly to pry myself away, to detach, I had started to understand.
At the airport in Denver now, I waited and waited, feeling tortured by the slow progression of time. Eventually I looked down at my phone for something and Amoni said “Oh hey, is that him?” At first I didn’t see him and thought she was teasing me. Then I did. I sort of threw my stuff at Amoni and ran, more wildly than I usually would ever run in a public place. I was careful not to knock him over when I started hugging, but I basically threw myself into it. It was the best feeling. I thought that my heart was going to pop with joy. Then we kissed. It was the first time we ever had, and we did it for ages right in the middle of the crowded airport. It was perfect, perfect, perfect. We eventually went back to regular hugging, and exchanged our first “I love you” that wasn’t through a microphone or typing.
“We should probably go find Amoni. I kinda threw all my stuff at her and ran over here,” I finally told him, and we did. Amoni was the first of my friends at home to be introduced to him, and that was exciting, too.
|First picture of us together as a couple!|
We went to baggage claim to get Paul’s stuff, and then to the shuttle to pick up our rental car and I was super hyped up, talking way too fast, unable to be calm, unable to be still, ridiculously energetic and nervous and excited. I was probably pretty annoying to be around after an insanely long period of traveling, honestly. Butitwasthemostexcitingthingeverandicouldntevenstoptobreathe
Eventually we got the car and said goodbye to Amoni, who I hugged super tightly. She’d taken really good care of me and been incredibly patient in the past few days as I talked about things non stop. Then we were alone together. We stopped somewhere to get food, since Paul was starving, and the pace of things slowed down a little. We were just sitting there talking. We held hands across the table, and he gently rubbed mine. I sometimes fell into nervousness. I’ve mentioned this before, but Paul is the only person with whom I’ve gotten together romantically and not stopped having a crush on. I start acting like someone much younger and less romantically experienced than I actually am. I get nervous and blush. It’s kind of cute, I guess. I felt this very, very much this first day.
There’s another thing. I was aware of Paul and liked him for longer than I actually knew him, just the way that anyone who is a consumer of spanking content has people that they particularly favor watching. It just happened to work out that we got along amazingly and work quite ideally as a couple in the real world. Sometimes, though, I experience derealization about this. It was like my brain was not sure how to process so much happiness, and it wondered if it was just some kind of dream. A few times, I hugged Paul and said “I’m so happy that you’re real.” Because it was real. All of this was real.
After we ate, I drove us to the cabin. The landscape got increasingly prettier as we got further away, and I didn’t really struggle with the driving at all, although I’d been afraid that I would. I’m not a very experienced driver yet– I got my license a year and a half ago. But it was fine.
The cabin was not particularly difficult to find, and it was nicely secluded, which would do well for the activities that we had planned. The area was beautiful, full of conifers and a few aspens, with a thick layer of pine needles covering the forest floor. I grew up in Southern New Jersey and while I lived at the shore, my grandparents lived in a small house in the Pine Barrens. The forest was like a giant version of that where I played as a child, and the much larger height of the trees here made me feel particularly physically small: a feeling that I cherish and enjoy. The cabin was the only building on a street called “Owl Drive.” This was perfect: my mascot animal is a stuffed owl. They’re a favorite.
The cabin was built and furnished in the late 60’s, I think. It had a big screen porch, a living room with a stone fireplace, comfortable sofas, a kind of crazy orange shag carpet and a deer head mounted over the mantle, staring at us slightly eerily. The kitchen was small and full of old appliances and cook wear, but functional. There was a small diningroom table on which we found a basket of basic supplies. To the right was a study. I’m quite sure that the presence of this room was probably key in Paul selecting this particular cabin. Studies are the perfect place for serious spankings, in my mind, and I got to fantasizing just looking at the desk.
To the left was a very small restroom with the world’s littlest shower and two bedrooms. One had two twins and would be used for very little. We set our stuff down in the master bedroom. I excitedly looked in all the drawers and cabinets, as I often do in a new place. Then Paul pulled me into another kiss, which filled me with happiness and excitement. Real. Real. Real.
Slowly he undressed me down to my carefully selected panties (white ones printed with “I love you” that I had once sent him photos of to cheer him up) and then turned me over his lap on the edge of the bed. Then he spanked me. It started tender and lovingly, then built up in intensity, making me gasp and wriggle. Nothing in that moment could have been better. I almost cried from being so happy. The spanking seems infinitely long in my mind, but I’m sure it wasn’t, since we were both fairly physically worn out from the day. I just floated there in a safe, loved, warm, glowing, submissive headspace, feeling totally at home over his lap, like I belonged nowhere else in the world.
Eventually, this devolved into cuddling. I’m a very physical person. My body is always hungry for touch, and I love to be held. Our cuddling was always perfect, and I never wanted it to end. There was so much safety and love and happiness to be found wrapped up in Paul’s arms with my head on his chest. Eventually, though, there was a knock on the door, which Paul went to answer as I had not yet gotten dressed again. It was the owner of the cabin, checking to make sure we’d arrived safely and were all set. As Paul talked to him, I got back into my dress and snuck out, hoping I didn’t look too disheveled. After the cabin owner was satisfied that we were fine and took off, we decided that we should probably head into town and find something to eat for dinner. The nearest town was Nederland, which is a small kind of hippy-filled mountain tourist town. The first place that appeared open was a giant German-American restaurant called “The Black Forest Inn.” We decided to eat there.
This was one of the top ten strangest places I’d ever eaten. It was ENORMOUS. It clearly sat 300 people or something, but there was no one there but us and our awkward, faux-German waiter. Our food was strange and not particularly good, and we kind of laughed at the absurdity of the giant, Hansel and Gretel looking restaurant that was only open to service us. We decided that we would not be going back there to eat again. 😛
After eating, we went back to the cabin where we spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other, sharing time that was intimate and magical.
Everything in my life was shiny and wonderful. ♥
This is an interruption to my recent narrative, because this post is important. It’s been stewing in my mind for a couple of weeks, and I’ve decided that I’m going to post it.
I get lots of questions in the inbox on my tumblr page, and I try to answer all of them. I like to have an open line of communication. I try to respond to Fetlife messages and emails, as well, but contacting me with something small over tumblr is pretty effective. A couple of weeks ago, I got the following question in my tumblr inbox:
“You have a large, chubby, big bottom. Do you think you
can take a hard spanking because it has so much padding?
Do you like your bottom?”
My natural reaction to a message like this is to feel badly about myself. Oh. I’m big. Thanks for reminding me. In fact, there have been times when these sorts of messages or photo comments or emails really tore me up. They pushed me over an edge of self doubt and lack of confidence. They reminded me of the thing that I feared: that I was fat. That I was the biggest girl making spanking videos. That I was really not all that pretty. That I largely got by as a model on my personality and, as the note mentioned, my ability to take a beating. That I’m not a tiny little thing, that I don’t fit over a lap as easily as the more petite girls and all my other fears and doubts relating to my height.
The truth is, I’ve spent a lot of my life feeling extremely insecure. I wrote a long post about my feelings towards my vertical size just about a year ago and it was one of the most vulnerable and personal things that I’ve ever written on this blog. I’ve never really mentioned my insecurities about my figure too openly, but I think a lot of people know that they’re there. I’m in a very body centric profession with a shape that’s different than many people in said profession, or even in the visible media. I put myself in a position where people discuss me in a public forum and where other bloggers think it’s a compliment to describe a girl as “pretty despite her size” when in reality, she’s about a size 8 and tremendously beautiful. It’s not hard to figure out how all that might make me feel.
A few months ago, my insecurities were peaking. I just flat out didn’t like myself physically. I was losing weight, but I was never satisfied. I didn’t like my shape. I didn’t like my height. I didn’t like my curves. I didn’t like bottom. Because modeling is my job, I pressed through working, but I didn’t expect to like any of the things that I saw. I was negatively comparing myself against some of my friends who are just built differently than me, and I was making myself feel awful about it.
|There’s nothing wrong with me.|
Eventually, I got to the point where I was honest with my friends about these feelings, and basically everyone I talked to was tremendously supportive. I was struggling with a general sense of depression to some degree for a while, especially over the winter, and that was adding to the way that I was seeing myself. I’m not going to name the people who talked to me about my body and my self image, because our conversations were extremely personal and intimate, but I’m eternally grateful for them. Their combined efforts helped me to realize that I was viewing myself through a dysmorphic lens and that I’m really actually quite pretty.
This is a feeling that’s been blooming and growing recently. I’ve gone into whatever the opposite of a depression is. Happiness. I like my life. I like the way that things are for me. I like what I do. I like the people I do those things with. I like myself.
And I mean that.
I feel drastically differently about myself than I used to.
I don’t feel ashamed about myself. About anything. I don’t feel ashamed of my sexuality, or of the things that I want, or of my history, or of the things I don’t know and can’t do well, or the times when I’m just not a real adult, or of my emotions. I don’t feel too tall. I don’t feel too fat. I like my shape. I like the way I look and feel draped over a lap. I like my long, curvy legs.
|I feel like I look tall in this photo, and that’s okay with me.|
I want to stress that no one ever made me feel the way I did before. In fact, I had tremendous emotional support to try and help me be my best. I just… did.
Now, I don’t.
So, I’m going to answer my Tumblr question.
I don’t really have that big of a bottom. It certainly doesn’t need three adjectives to describe it that way. I have a round, perky, spankable bottom. I like it. A lot of people like it. It’s my favorite part of my body. I like the way it looks. I like the way it bounces when I’m spanked. I like how it looks when I’m bent over, or over a lap. I like the way it fills out panties.
|Chubby isn’t the word I think about myself when I see this.|
I like the way it looks when I walk around. I like how it looks in a short skirt. I like how it looks in jeans. I wouldn’t change it. I mean that. It’s mine (well, and someone else’s, too, and that just makes it even better!) and I’m proud of it.
I don’t think that I can take a harder spanking because of the way that I’m built, but I wouldn’t entirely discount the idea. Honestly, I think that I can take a hard spanking because that’s what I’ve always wanted, and because Malignus taught me a lot of wonderful things about both active and passive submission over the years. I know that I’m less at risk at having my bones struck because of the way that I’m built, and I’m grateful for that because I do like being hit hard (in the right situation).
I’m not less spankable because of my shape. I can still feel comfortably emotionally small, vulnerable, physically supported… everything that I want to feel. I’m not just saying this. It’s a real change.
I hope that this answers the OP’s question. ♥
I’m finally getting around to posting about one of the most exciting parts of my vacation to Los Angeles for me. I got to meet Erica Scott.
I’m sure that my readers are familiar with who she is: she’s pretty much the best spanking blogger (in my opinion) and she has a wonderful mix of wit, insite and honesty in her writing. She’s also a fellow spanking model and has made some pretty awesome videos.
Erica was also, without her knowledge, fairly influential to my choice to get actively involved in the spanking scene instead of keeping my spanking life a secret, hidden activity that I did not share with anyone but the few who were involved. It went like this: I got drunk one night and made a fetlife account and started trolling through spanking related groups and observing how people interacted with each other in them, trying to see if it was a place where I felt I could ever “fit in.” I noticed various people who seemed pretty awesome, and others who made me decidedly uncomfortable. I’ve always been a “no nonsense” kind of girl. I don’t take bullshit from people. If someone who hasn’t earned the right to tries to boss me around, they’re in for it. If someone makes a creepy sexual advance at me, I will make fun of them to all my friends. I had trouble figuring out how someone who enjoys taking a passive role and likes to be spanked (this was before the idea that I might have *gasp* submission in me had even been allowed to enter my mind) could present herself as both these things. The kind of woman that I ideally wanted to be was one who was outspoken, confident, even boisterous, who had no shame about what she wanted and knew that her choices, be they to be spanked, to be passive, to choose to submit, what have you, did not make her any less fierce and respectable. But I didn’t know if that was possible, or if the community could find that to be “okay.”
Then I discovered Erica and I knew not only was it possible to be the kind of woman that I wanted to be, but that there was someone setting a positive example for me in the community. Having Erica around, just on the internet, made me feel somehow safer and it made me like the Spanking World, hell, the world in general, more because she existed.
Then a sock puppet claiming to be a Mormon spanko started to freak out when “she” got called out on her socketry and attacked a whole group of people, including me, and I discovered that the spanking community was FULL of smart, strong, hilarious women like Munchkin, Lily Starr, The Famous Kat (who doesn’t seem to have a blog anymore), and Iggy, and that the male Tops were often awesomely fun individuals that I could truly respect anywhere, like Richard Windsor. And then suddenly, BAM, I felt like I was part of something. I grabbed that and ran and my life has been pretty fricken amazing ever since.
Anyway, needless to say, I like Erica a lot and was looking forward to meeting her. We met up at a Starbucks and she got us some comfy chairs (since I was taking the bus due to transportation failures, she got there first). And then we started talking: we talked about our favorite people to film with, what my shoots had been like recently, what her best and worst experiences shooting had been, what she enjoyed about parties she’d attended, what I get out of playing with sadists and why that’s awesome for me and a bunch of other stuff. She explained the way that some groups and organizations within the scene came to be and she laughed out loud when I told her a clever brattism that I’d said in a recent shoot. Hanging out with her made me feel great: she’s warm and welcoming in person and just as well spoken as she is online. She’s fun and sweet and awesome. And she’s beautiful. There’s something about her that’s undeniably stunning.
We sat and talked for two and a half hours. It was an awesome day.
The rest of my trip to LA was largely filled with vanilla adventures. I went to the Sanrio Store
and I sang Japanese Karaoke with Zeki. MaskofNormality took me out to Indian food and we talked about all sorts of stuff. Then, in the end, I packed up all my stuff and headed back to South Dakota. Malignus and Heather picked me up from the airport and I came home, got a lovely spanking and then started to catch up on all the sleep I missed. The trip was excellent, and I can’t wait until I have a chance to go back!
NOTE NUMBER THE FIRST: This entry has a lot of non spanking related photos in it. Know why? Because I’m on vacation. Kthnx.
NOTE NUMBER THE SECOND: Go ahead and play this in the background while reading this blog post. I’ve been kind of humming it to myself for the past few days. 🙂
NOTE NUMBER THE THIRD: The end of this gets mushy. You were warned!
I arrived in Los Angeles on Wednesday. R. picked me up from the airport and drove me back to my old apartment. It was lovely to be back in a place that was so familiar to me for a long time. I had an immediate sense of belonging as we took the Chinatown exit and R. slapped my thigh with gentle excitement. I was overjoyed to get to cuddle my kitties again, too. It’s hard to have a long distance relationship with a pet. 🙁
|Gizmo DID miss me! He snuggled me from the first minute I walked in the door!|
We spent some awesome time “catching up” and visiting and then went to a favorite Japanese restaurant in my old Little Tokyo stomping ground. Before the meal, R., Zeki, and I played a game of hangman. Those two know me pretty well: they got mine without missing a single letter and it wasn’t even in real English.
I went into the market there and checked out things that were once common parts of my life, but because I’d been away from them and living in a culture where they are not normal, had become novelties. I took photos like a tourist in the place where I once did my grocery shopping. I was jumping around with joy as I remembered just how common place adorable things are in Los Angeles.
|The amount of cuteness just overwhelmed me!|
|I DIDN’T buy a Hello Kitty Bunny Ice Cream Cone keychain because I’m trying to spend money like an adult!|
|I did, however, decide that I’m going to go back for eye makeup that’s specially formulated to run when you cry. It seems like a worthy investment in my line of work. This package advertises that it produces “120% More Tears!”|
|Engrish is even MORE AMUSING than it was before!|
I spent Thursday with Maddycake and had a wonderful time. Los Angeles is having beautiful weather and the plants know that it’s spring:
We went to the zoo where we ate kettle corn and saw the only bear in Los Angeles.
|I mostly took this photo for Heather, because she loves elephants!|
We had a lot of awesome conversations and shared feelings about spanking, modeling and submission. I love being with people who can relate to me on those levels and getting a variety of viewpoints. I also just love Maddy because she’s the greatest.
I know it probably makes me sound a bit whiny, and it’s surely a First World Spanko Problem, but I really miss Malignus. I feel a lot of nostalgia for the time when I first met him and we lived halfway across the country from each other. I don’t mean that I preferred the way that things were back then, or that I even miss it, but I feel a warm happiness at the memory of a time which was very different but also very good and extremely influential to my life. I did, however, have a “you can’t go back” kind of moment: the particular corner in my old bedroom (since R and Zeki still live in the apartment that we shared, but with different roommates) which I spent a considerable amount of time in under Malignus’ will now has an L shaped desk in it. I wanted to go back into the space where I did a lot of thinking, learning and developing. Since I was unable to do so, I ran over many greatly influential moments in my mind. I learned long ago that a thing or a place does not hold memories: one does in oneself.
Being here, though, makes me very aware of the path that our relationship took and makes me both proud and happy that things came to the place where they are now. Sometimes, I get bogged down in our work schedules and the dirty dishes and things that need to get done and the small conflicts that inevitably take place when one lives with another person.I don’t lose sight of how important my relationship with Malignus is, nor how much we love and mean to one and other, but I occasionally need to take a step back to be reminded that I’m living my dream life when it comes to the really important stuff. Being given, essentially, a tour of my previous life reminds me of the growth and changes that have occurred in the past year and a half.
Honestly, in nearly every way, Los Angeles is superior to Sioux Falls. The ways in which it is not are pretty simple: the price of things and the traffic. Being in LA has made me aware of all the things that I miss from here: In-N-Out Burger, a variety of Dungeons, kink groups and BDSM stores, cheap and delicious ethnic food, the Pacific Ocean, the fog making Malibu Canyon into another world, Amoeba Records, a wide variety of people who have read the books I’ve read and wish to discuss them, Archlight Theaters, Little Tokyo, hot girls in bohemian dresses, beautifully crafted tattoo work, creperies, cup cake shops, gourmet food trucks, four Sanrio Smiles stores in one city, pretty much every store ever, the Santa Monica Promenade, gay bars, rock clubs, organic burger places, the Gold Line train and the Chinatown flea market. The list goes on and on. Los Angeles is pretty freaking amazing (if hella expensive!). When I’m catching up with friends and meeting those who joined my cliques while I was away, I’m always getting asked why I moved to South Dakota and whether or not it was worth it.
I look around at all this stuff, all this glittery and gloriously entertainment, the libraries full of books, the museums full of paintings and photographs, the parks and the theme parks.
Am I happy without all this? Yes.
I’m amazingly happy to visit Los Angeles and would love to do so frequently. But at the end of the day, I’m looking forward to getting back to a place where I can drive without worrying about causing an accident that kills 80 people, where I can afford to go to dinner and a movie without feeling guilty about spending so much money, and far more importantly, where I’m with Malignus nearly every day. Spending my days with him and Heather is a greater joy than I ever expected to know.
I realized that I left a very important announcement off my blog: Heather came back!
In case you haven’t been following along, Heather is one of my best friends and a fellow spanko bottom. I met her through Malignus over fetlife, and she was actually the first person outside of LA that I met from the internet when we visited her in Northern California on my way back from visiting a girlfriend up there. The two of us got along swimmingly, and a friendship that I hope I’ll have for the rest of my life was born. She came to LA to help me move to South Dakota, and because of changing situations in her life, she ended up staying out here with Malignus and I for two months. Now she’s back, and she’ll be with us for a few more months. It’s VERY nice having her here. We have a lot of fun together, she helps me with girl stuff, we get spanked together and we decided to start making videos together.
Long before I ever thought I’d be a spanking model, Heather and I made a video in which she spanked me with celery stalks. It was the first video of a spanking I was ever involved in. We did this because it was a weird train of connections and inside jokes and we’re just strange girls like that. We’ve since then talked quite a bit about other videos that we could make that included strange implements. You have to remember that the two of us go through pretty much any store and find things that we think could be used to spank someone. It’s like a hobby for us.
From these ideas, we created the idea for “Does This Hurt?!” It’s a mini-series of free spanking videos in which Heather and I will spank each other with strange pervertables to see which ones hurt and which ones don’t. We’ve only filmed the first episode thus far, but you can expect things ranging from the “almost normal” to the “0_0” (but nothing gross. Don’t worry!)
Our first video is entitled “Trout” and features a cutting board which was purchased at a Sioux Falls area thrift store. I can’t tell you why, but I think that it is the most freaking hilarious thing ever. I can’t stop saying the word “trout.”
Please enjoy the first video. We’re aiming to release one per week.
A couple more stories from the party, then tomorrow, we move on to other topics in Spankingland. Besides the sjambok, another one of the “scary” implements that was brought to the cabin was TNSpanker’s cricket bat. I was offered a go at being hit with it on the first night, but, as previously mentioned, I was liquored up and I’m not permitted to play with people I don’t know when I’ve been drinking . This rule is especially important when the fact that I’m a lightweight (in terms of alcohol) is considered. Because of this, I only drank on the first night, and on the second night, I was ready to experience the cricket bat. It had to be located first, because apparently my request to be hit with horrible things interfered with some of the other girls’ plan to hide horrible things. I wasn’t given that memo and ended up getting them (mainly Megan) in a boatload of trouble later on. Anyway, TNS hit me with the cricket bat a few times and it was kind of awesome. It was just thud, and the thrill of being hit with a large, blunt object hadn’t gone away just because I’d been beaten with a tree earlier in the day. I actually really enjoyed it. Then Malignus hit me with it three times and I screamed a lot. Then he hit my thigh with it and I think I stopped having bones for a minute and collapsed into a pile of mush on the back of the couch until he hugged me back to life. Don’t worry: the whole thing happened under a doctor’s supervision. The risk of SBD was managed!
Yep: I uploaded the same photo twice. You guys can deal. Anyway, the cricket bat was like a paddle that had been taking the same drugs that the cane that grew into the sjambok took. When I told Serious_Face that I’d been spanked with one, he was a combination of excited and pissed. Apparently it was something he’d always fantasized about doing to a girl but had never actually done because he thought it was “too extreme.” It’s not, by the way. It’s extremely scary and extremely awesome, but not “too” anything.
Later that night, I went downstairs with Drlectr to have a quiet conversation (because there was a lot of spanking going on in the main room and spanking distracts me quite a bit when I’m trying to talk) and it ended with me asking him to spank me. It was an incredibly nice scene. I think about it and my eyes get kind of glossy for a second before I say “it was niiiiiiiice.” It was fairly long (I think: I lose track of time pretty quickly under these circumstances) and it was all hand-spanking on my bare bottom, which is my favorite of all possible things. He was really good at what he did: he varied speed and tempo and intensity in a way that made me simultaneously relaxed, happy and chock full of endorphins.
Most spanko girls who hang out with me have probably heard me bitch about the fact that I don’t usually experience the endorphin side of things unless I’m getting positively murdered, and even then, I don’t have a traditional subspace experience. I did once after Malignus gave me an extended hand-spanking after I’d had a very thorough spanking indeed a few hours earlier, and another time, I got kind of “high” from a fairly gentle spanking and walked around with a pillow in my mouth after like that was normal. But my normal experience involves me crying and wailing a lot during a spanking and only feeling typical “good” feelings while basking in it afterwards. This time, things lined up right so that I got a lot of endorphines. A lot. I made a lot of noise during the spanking, but it was pretty much just moaning. I’d imagine that it sounded pretty sexual to anyone listening. It wasn’t sexual for me, but I don’t really have a word for what it was. It was really, really enjoyable. It hurt in a way that didn’t feel like pain, even though I was aware that I was in pain. I drifted and had a very loose connection with my body and with reality. It was very lovely indeed.
At the end of the day, I was very sore and very warm and happy.
Malignus gave me a bedtime spanking shortly thereafter which only heightened my snuggly spaciness. There was only one thing not right with the world as I fell asleep with my head against his chest: the next day, ellee and YS were leaving. We were all technically supposed to be leaving, but Drlectr and Megan had arranged for us to have the cabin for an extra night and quite a number of us were staying.
The next morning, I slept in pretty late. It was glorious: I’d been a little sick this entire time and I’d had trouble sleeping. I even slept through Malignus giving ellee a fairly hardcore caning not that far outside my door. I’ve clearly made some progress with being freaked out by hearing other people being spanked. 😛 Soon, the reality that ellee and YS were going home soon was being drilled into me by YS scolding ellee to get her stuff ready and into the car. SAD! There was something that I wanted to do before ellee was tragically pulled from me by circumstance.
ellee is really good at comforting. One of the nights I had a temporary episode of “teh sad” and I ended up crying to her about something (once in a while, I can be a woman. Sue me.) and I was kind of amazed by how awesome she was at making me feel better. When she was hugging my head and being a warm and affectionate presence, I was able to quickly cope with the stuff that was making me have said sad and get back to being all happy-faced. So, once I was awake, I asked Malignus to quickly do a science experiment and see if I was well enough to be spanked (between the soreness and the sickness). This science was conducted with that big-ass spoon in the above photo, which is named Fluffy!® I was really, really sore: about halfway through, Malignus asked me if I wanted him to spank my thighs and I gave a very genuine “YES” that wasn’t driven by submission in the least. It was because they had gotten much less abuse than my bottom had during that particular weekend. The thigh swats actually hurt A LOT less than the ones on my bottom had, and that’s impressive, because my thighs are very pain sensitive (all that constant hitting hasn’t made them any less) and I still have more self preservation about them than most other parts of my body. The science proved that I was still spankable.
Once that was established, I asked Malignus to give me a spanking like he would at home. As a general rule, he doesn’t give out “real” or “full” beatings at parties: it’s not the right environment for it. Besides, a girl is going to want to play more and doesn’t want to be so sore she can’t move (except maybe me. Because I’m insane like that.) The thing I wanted, however, was for ellee to give me moral support during the spanking. It sounded like it would be awesome. Both Malignus and ellee agreed to this.
|This was hanging in our room in the cabin! So appropriate!|
So, Malignus spanked me crazy hard with a feared and detested wooden spoon named Jenny and ellee snuggled my face and told me what a good girl I was, and how submissively I was taking my beating and how much everyone loved me. It might sound kind of dumb, but it was totally awesome. Her praise and comfort lifted me up and made me want to take more and take it well. I’m not going to lie: earlier today, when I was getting a spanking for saying that we could use magic to turn HeatherFeather’s dog into a cat, I started thinking about that earlier scene and the way ellee made me feel and it helped me to not focus on processing the spanking as it was happening and therefore allowed me to take it with less resistance. Basically: I love ellee and everything to do with her.
Eventually, though, she and YS had to leave. I started suffering from ellee drop right away. Fortunately, there were other awesome people still at the party. It was during this time that I got spanked by Latte. That was very enjoyable and had several particularly cool things about it. For one, she’s left handed. I’ve always wanted to be spanked by a left handed top. Besides the fun and excitement in something being different and in facing the other way while over her lap, there’s the fact that she favored the opposite side than everyone else had, which helped to even out the symmetry of things. She was also a very good spanker: she spanked me with “good girl” implements at a nice pace for quite a long time and it was really relaxing and enjoyable. I sometimes mock lighter implements because I’ve always kind of assumed that if someone was going to give a “kind” spanking, they would use their hand. I kind of neglected the fact that most Tops hands eventually become tired and sore. I also sometimes forget that Tops can feel pain. 😛
A little while after Latte had finished spanking me, Megan decided that she wanted to do so as well, and let me know by pulling me over her lap.
|I didn’t know if Megan wanted her face shown or not, and it was late at night so I erred on the side of caution.|
Megan’s spanking alternated between being nice and relaxing and hard and very stingy. You can see in the photo that I’m all kinds of marked up- you can even make out the sjambok bruising on my thighs. She actually made me tear up a little at one point, while making me coo and relax at other points in the same scene. It was all kinds of fun.
That night, we watched the Oscars and The Tree of Life didn’t win anything, so I became sort of irate and yelled quite a bit about how Terrance Malick is a god among men and the politics of the Academy are corrupt and dumb. Also, somehow, this happened:
Poor, mistreated Alex! The night then went on to include a lot of chilling and some unforgettable ridiculosity, sponsored by Malibu.
The next morning, we got up, cleaned out the cabin and then went to take a walk through the surrounding town and get some breakfast. The meal was enjoyable, and the town was adorable! Megan bought me some candy in a chocolate store, we had a really tasty meal, I got to hug this stuffed dog:
TNSpanker finagled things so that I got to see this bear:
Ten and I learned about what makes a good belt when we visited a leatherworker’s shop (I am still pretty sure the answer to that is that you season it with the screams and tears of many girls):
|I look kinda awful here. I was pretty sleep deprived and sad that the weekend was ending.|
and I thought this sign was funny:
After sad farewells in the parking lot, Malignus and I hit the road for what turned out to be an 18 hour trip home. Just in case anyone was wondering, an 18 hour car ride isn’t exactly what one wants to do when one has a really freaking sore bottom. Ugggggh. It felt like it lasted forever.
So, I’ve finally finished telling the tale of my adventures. It only took me a really long time! I’m sorry a few days passed between posts because my life got a bit busy, and I’m sorry that this post is so hella long: I wanted to get the rest of the story told in one post like I said I could!
Regular programming begins again tomorrow. Stay tuned!