I enjoy checking the search terms that bring readers to my blog. I find it particularly pleasing when people get here by searching for my name. Sometimes, people search for things that are very appropriate indeed: “happy consensual spanking,” “girls who love to be spanked” and “writing about spanking” all make a lot of sense. Others make me a little scrunchy in the face, but may well be true: “people who cry a lot” and “the spanking model who cries the most” were high on that list. Some are just slightly creepy, or at the very least, too extreme for me: “dark blue ass after caning”and “spanking till scars” are in the DO NOT DO category. Some people get really ridiculous ones, but thus far, I haven’t really had that many of those.
Tonight, however, I saw a search term come up that was almost a request: someone searched for “Alex Reynolds Lexan Video.” Now, I can tell you straight up, dear searcher, sadly for you, but probably happily for me, such a video does not exist. It may well exist someday, though, and if it does, it’s going to be one pathetic film. I’ve talked before about having a “love/hate relationship” with certain implements. I wouldn’t say that’s the case with my lexan paddle. I’m pretty sure I just have a “hate/hate relationship” with it.
My original lexan paddle is a Lexan OTK Paddle from Cane-iac.com. It was purchased for me by my friend, IG, who is tremendously sadistic. There are a couple of things that I find noteworthy about this particular piece: first of all, it’s thickness is significant. It’s 1/2 inch lexan, where as almost all other lexan paddles are 1/4th inch. That means that it’s heavy and solid and packs an incredible amount of weight. The second feature is that it has a “blade” of only six inches in length. Having a small surface area means that all the force of a strike is concentrated in a small area of the bottom (or, in more terrible cases, the thighs) and makes it hurt a lot in one spot instead of spreading it out. It’s a recipe for serious agony.
That’s the physical side of things: there’s also a psychological component for me (as there always is). IG’s partner and submissive, my friend Peachy, had told me all kinds of stories about what a horrible implement it was before I received my own for my birthday. I brought it with me on a visit to Malignus’ and he discovered it the second morning that I was there. He brought it out and asked me if I’d ever felt Lexan before. I told him I had not, and he told me how truly terrible it was and said that it was too sadistic even for him: an idea which was kind of terrifying to me, considering our previous experiences together. He then said that he was going to give me four swats with it, so that I could understand what I was dealing with, but that he would probably never use it again. Because tops can’t count, I then got six swats with it on top of the mess of bruises that I’d already had from the night before. It was horrible: the pain was deep penetrating and sort of “buzzed.” It was a mixture of way too much sting and way too much thud. I was extremely grateful for the idea that it wasn’t going to be used again. Except for the fact that it totally was, a bunch of times, and it continues to be fairly regularly. It really, really hurts, but I know that my experience of it is greatly enhanced by the amount that it has been built up in my mind as something ridiculously horrible. Truth be told, the other night Malignus made me cry just by leading me into the bedroom with it in his hand.
Fast forward to this month: I had recently gotten back from my visit to my family’s house when another package from IG arrived. He had certainly one-upped himself: besides containing a few other choice nightmare-makers, he had sent me a new lexan paddle:
It is also 1/2 inch thick, but it’s quite a bit larger and it has holes in it. It’s heavy and thick and doesn’t create an air cushion. It does create screaming, though: it’s now tied for the thing which hurts the most in the entire world. I think that highest amount of strikes I’ve received from it at a time is four and that’s way more than enough for me.
Here it is pictured with my original paddle (which I still despise.)
Since I can’t provide you with a video to satisfy your curiosity, dear searcher, I hope this story will suffice. Here is a photo of my butt after a very hard spanking with the smaller lexan paddle (without a warmup and starting with the thighs, because I live with a horrible sadist.) There are also older cane bruises that still show a bit- I think they are from playing Zelda.
Oh, right. I went away to my family’s house for the holidays. Then I came back.
I’m kidding, I’m kidding. There’s more to the story than that!
Being with my family of origin is hard. My mother and I have had a difficult relationship for my entire life. Sometimes I just think I’ll never go visit them again, but since my mother is in poor health and my oldest brother just passed away, I knew it was the right thing to do.
The visit was really stressful, though. My mother and I quarreled a lot, she didn’t let me do anything, she said awkward things all the time (like asking me if I was saving it for marriage!) and I was reminded of all the reasons I left home at such a tender young age in the first place. Plus, I attended my brother’s memorial service, which was extremely bittersweet. I had already found closure for myself, but it hurt to see so many other people suffering and there were instances of prejudice against the HIV positive expressed *during the service* which really boiled my blood.
There were also awkward spanko moments- my family members mainly bought me practical gifts, and practical gifts for a woman tend to be kitchen things where I come from. I got ANOTHER rubber spatula (this one did go in the kitchen, but it was still awkward) and I got another wooden spoon. I have a lot of wooden spoons. Malignus doesn’t like me using them in the kitchen because he doesn’t want them to absorb germs or something like that. Basically, I am pretty sure he just wants to keep them all for spanking me. Besides, the spoon I got from the family is a really beauty from a spanking perspective: nice, long handle, perfectly flat back, smooth, strong beech wood.
|Yep: I’m aware that this is the most ridiculous photo of me I’ve ever posted to this blog!|
Then there was the gift exchange with my cousin, who bought me a set of FIVE hairbrushes. My mom said “Oh good! Alex can really use those! I’ve bought more hairbrushes for that girl than anyone needs in a life time and yet they always end up lost or broken.” Broken, yes, Mom. Into pieces. On my ass. But you don’t need to know that!
Then there was the awkward conversation in which my surviving brother attempted to convince me that I should use a bathbrush in the shower because they feel really nice and offered to buy me one. No. Bathbrushes DO NOT feel really nice. They feel like death. Like every swat is taking minutes off my lifespan. I don’t care how they feel in the shower: if it’s in my shower, it’s in my house and THAT’S BAD!
Finally, there were the little things: the fact that I notice awkward spanking related things EVERYWHERE and want to giggle or make an awkward face and can’t in vanilla company:
|I’m wearing these to get spanked sometime!|
Beside all this, I had trouble sleeping and I really missed Malignus. It certainly made me appreciate just how wonderful my life here is, though. I’m able to truly be myself at all times and I’m with someone who loves me for exactly that, not for who I pretend to be or who I change myself into. That in and of itself is more than I ever dreamed of. Add in the fact that we have a lot of fun together, I get to cook and clean, and I get a good spanking almost every day and I’m made aware that I’m pretty much the luckiest girl in Spankingland.
Coming home on Tuesday to this was just lovely. There really aren’t words for how nice it was. When I was a girl and I was obsessed with Roald Dahl’s book, Boy, there was a section that I enjoyed that didn’t have any beatings in it. This was where Dahl discussed the joy of going home from school for the summer holidays. I specifically remember him saying something along the lines of “The feeling is incredible and can’t be understood except by someone who has lived in an oppressive environment and then gone back to a place of freedom. It was almost worth going away to school just to experience the joy of being away from it.” I always liked imagining what that would be like: to leave my normal and unenjoyable childhood and go to a place of freedom. Leaving my family’s home to go back to my new adult life reminded me of that. It’s a very pleasant thing, getting to experience the stuff you’ve always wanted! 😀
On Tuesday, after Malignus picked me up from the airport, we got a pizza and went home to watch the first two Rocky movies (which I’d never seen before, despite being a film aficionado.) After the second movie, it was late and I was tired, plus I still had a lot of residual stress from the past week built up in my system. I asked Malignus is he was going to spank me that night, since I usually go across his lap before going to bed, and he said “a little bit.” I was kind of imagining a firm but not miserable hand-spanking based on that response. I was alright with that: I hadn’t been spanked for nine whole days! Better ease back into it, right?
Then I saw him coming into the bedroom with my new spoon. He had swatted me with it earlier and it had made me howl. My stomach dropped. This reflected in a very sad look on my face. Malignus asked me if I was scared about how much the spanking would hurt and I replied that I was. “You should be,” he said. He’s very encouraging. 😛
I bared my bottom and got in position over his lap and he asked me if I wanted a warm up. I gave the most heartfelt and earnest rendition of “Yes, please, Sir!” ever heard by man, I’m pretty sure. Warmups are kind of a luxury for me, and I hadn’t really been expecting one, but the idea sounded so nice.
Then Malignus said “Too bad!” and started laying into me. Then I started howling. It would probably not have been a very pretty thing to listen to. The stupid thing was agonizingly painful and it kept falling with an extremely fast pacing. It hurt so much that I very quickly began to sob. The spanking just kept going, though, without any sign that the pace was slowing. He spanked me very thoroughly: as is usual, he didn’t spare my thighs in the least, and this time he put considerable time and attention into beating my sit-spots. He eventually stopped with the spoon and spent a while spanking me firmly but much more slowly with his hand while my cries began to quiet. It took me a little bit after the spanking finished to stop crying, but my stress and tension had been replaced with a remarkable sense of calm and security. Laying over the lap of the man I love with a bruised, swollen bottom throbbing with pain, I felt like I had no reason to be anything but content and joyful. Very shortly thereafter, I lay in bed with my head resting on his chest and fell asleep.
Because I went directly to bed, I did not photograph my butt when it was properly marked, but I woke up looking like this:
I was looking through the front page of my blog and I discovered something extremely unsettling: there were no photos of my butt on it! Fortunately, I have the ability to fix that :P.
Please enjoy these sample frames from my shoot with Chelsea Pfeiffer. The videos and photosets appear on Good Spanking: you can find me right on the front page. You should all be able to recognize my butt by now, right? I really recommend that you go check it out: it was a lot of fun to shoot, and it’s one of the videos that has the strongest representation of me as myself, since it’s a reality shoot where I’m not playing a character. I love scenes (and videos) like that: you start with two spankos. I’m a bottom, he or she is a top, and therefore, there’s a spanking. Thinking about it makes me want to be over a lap right now (oh wait, that’s always the case, isn’t it?)
|Or over an ottoman. That works too. Bare bottomed and over SOMETHING, please!|