I had a lot of downtime from blogging here, and I missed a lot of things that happened in my life. For now, though, I’m just going to pick back up with writing about what most recently happened. And that was today.
I’ve talked before about the difference between play punishment and real punishment. Play punishment is a big part of my daily life with Paul, where real punishment happens fairly rarely. Although I enjoy being naughty when it’s just-for-fun, being good and obedient in “real life” is important to me.
I don’t wear shoes in the house most of the time. This is primarily because I have a lot of pain in one of my knees and so I have to keep it straight if I’m sitting for long periods of time, such as when I’m working or writing, or watching TV, or playing video games… so a lot of the time. This leads to me usually sitting with my feet up on the couch or working from my bed with my laptop on my lap, like I’m doing right now. So, no shoes.
The first time that Paul went back to England after he had been here, I set up an outdoor sitting area for him as a surprise. We don’t have much of a yard, since our house is still in a semi-urban area, but underneath the camphor tree in our yard, I put a couple of chairs, a chiminea and a small table. Paul spends a lot of time sitting out here when he’s taking breaks from work. He sits in one of the chairs there and reads: Paul reads more than anyone else that I know, which is something that I really like about him.
So, when I want to find Paul to ask him something, or just to climb onto his lap for cuddling, I first check in his office. If he’s not there, he’s almost always in the yard. The problem is that when I want to go out into the yard to talk to him, I often don’t bother to put shoes on before I do this.
At first, I thought that the reason that Paul kept scolding me about this was because I then tracked a lot of leaves and things into the house on my feet, but this didn’t really matter that much, I didn’t think, seeing as Paul wears shoes in the house and we have really fuzzy cats, so the floors are almost always in need of sweeping up anyway. Admittedly, I really didn’t take being scolded when I didn’t wear shoes in the yard very seriously at first.
One day, though, I went out to talk to him and noticed that there were a lot of bees in the yard. In fact, I very nearly stepped on one while barefoot. This is a big problem, since I’m seriously allergic to bees. After that happened, Paul started being very serious about the “wear shoes when going outside” rule.
The problem is, I keep forgetting about it. I had made such a habit of just running out without bothering with shoes. Because I get to the backyard through the back door, which is located in the kitchen, there isn’t any room for me to just leave shoes by the door. I have to actually go find my shoes and put them on. Ugh. My life is so hard. 😛
Despite getting (not so severely) spanked for not wearing shoes in the yard several times in the past, I forgot about it again today. Paul was in the yard reading, and I had just finished watching the most recent video for Northern Spanking. At least half the time now, I make up the names for videos. I watch them once the editing is done, then I make a list of ideas and ask Paul which ones he thinks are the best. This time, I had pretty much decided which one was the best one, and I felt enthusiastic about zipping out the yard to let him know.
Of course, I did this without shoes on.
After I told Paul what I had decided on, and he agreed with me that it was good, I curled up in his lap to snuggle for a little bit. It was sunny and bright out, and I felt very content.
“How’s your tummy feeling?” he asked me, stroking my hair.
I had eaten a sandwich which was questionably not good earlier in the day and had been feeling a bit queasy. I told him that I still didn’t feel 100% right.
“Tell me when you do,” he told me, his voice sounding stern and serious. “I’m going to punish you for not wearing shoes in the yard.”
“Well, I’m never going to feel better,” I moped, trying to curl my toes up as if that would somehow make it less noticeable that I was barefoot. We both knew that wasn’t true, of course.
Soon, I was feeling pretty okay, and I went to the gym. This is a new thing: while I had previously only worked out at home, I’ve been actually going to the gym and following a routine there now. It’s kind of intimidating to me, because I don’t know what I’m doing with half the stuff there, but it’s really rewarding to see myself getting stronger and fitter.
I came home and took a shower, then got dressed again and found Paul in his office. It was time for more cuddling, of course. I seriously spend a pretty decent percentage of my days snuggled up to him when I can. I have to save up for later. 😉
“Are you feeling better now?” he asked. I nodded hesitantly: I couldn’t lie. “Go to your room,” he told me. Paul has a specific tone of voice that he only uses when I’m in real, actual trouble. It’s very tender and gentle, but extremely authoritative. The sound of that tone touches at the core of what D/s is about to me, and I would never disobey him when he talked to me that way.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments, waiting for him. It seemed like a very long time to me, but I knew that realistically, it wasn’t long at all.
Then he came into the room. He wasn’t carrying anything with him, which didn’t necessarily mean that I wasn’t going to get punished with an implement: there were several in the room already.
“Stand up, Alex,” he instructed.
I stood up next to him, looking up at his face.
“I’ve punished you for this before, haven’t I?” he asked.
I nodded sadly, not wanting to admit that I hadn’t really taken those minor punishments to heart before.
“Like almost all your rules, this is to preserve your safety and well being,” he lectured, reminding me about the fact that I could get stung by a bee or step on something sharp outside.
I felt guilty and I felt a little embarrassed. In my previous D/s relationship, I used to get punished for things that, primarily, annoyed or caused inconvenience to my ex. These things didn’t make me feel the same way. I felt like I was in trouble, then, and it felt real, but it lacked the feeling of being nurtured and taken care of. The fact that my rules exist because Paul cares about me and wants to protect me makes me feel particularly bad when I break them.
Paul sat down and pulled me over his lap, lifting the skirt of my dress to expose my bottom. Then he began to spank me with his hand. Each swat was particularly hard and forceful, much more than it would be if we were just playing. They stung and bit, and I found myself struggling over his lap a little bit: I was still slightly sore from the spankings I had received the two previous days.
Paul grabbed my hand and held it behind my back. He wasn’t pinning my wrist in place, just holding my hand there. It made me feel like I was very much under his control, but it was still an affectionate gesture. It calmed me, and I lay still, taking the spanking fairly quietly. It got to a point where I was sufficiently warmed that each hard swat didn’t hurt so much anymore, and things were almost becoming nice.
It was then that Paul stopped and instructed me to get up and to take off my dress. I did as I was told, folding my dress and setting it on the dresser behind me as Paul grabbed four pillows and put them in a tall stack on the middle of the bed.
“Over the pillows, bottom uppermost,” he instructed.
This is a very normal instruction for us. I like being in this position, with my bottom higher than the rest of my body. It makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel like I am on display. It makes me feel like my bottom is a very obvious target. All of these things make the submissive part of my brain hum happily.
Paul stood to one side of me, so he was in my field of vision, and then he removed his belt. He did it fairly quickly, with strong, sharp movements that foreshadowed how, exactly, it would be moving in just a moment.
He took his position and lay the belt on me, finding his mark. He did this motion a few times before the first stroke, and with each one, I whimpered as I awaited the biting sting that would soon be following.
After what seemed like ages, he snapped the belt down against my bottom. It hurt, but I was ready for it. The second and third strokes made me grunt and gasp a little. The fourth was particularly sharp, and it landed with a pinching feeling on my bottom, reminiscent of the tawse. I let out a wail. The strokes began to fall harder now, and each one solicited small cries from me.
After five strokes, he changed sides. This is something that Paul almost always does, and which very few people who I play with do. Because most people I play with tend to only swing from one direction, and it’s been this way for the past nine and a half years that I’ve been getting spanked, the opposite side is still somewhat less conditioned, so these strokes always hurt more. I gripped at my Rilakkuma cuddly toy (who I call “Fat Head”) and pressed my face into the plush material, as if this would bring me some kind of relief.
Once ten strokes had been delivered, I expected Paul to change sides again. Paul and I tend to play so that far fewer, but very hard strokes are delivered, usually of a set number. This is different from the way that I’ve played with a lot of other people, but it’s a headspace that has a strong effect on me. It feels formal, more like a school punishment. It feels very controlled, which is something that gives me great comfort and allows me to let go more during the scene.
Instead, Paul started to scold me again:
“You’ve been punished for this before, haven’t you?” he asked.
I nodded, my voice not coming through for me.
Paul’s only response to this was to tap the belt against my thighs.
I whimpered and lowered my head, knowing that this was really going to hurt. And, in a second, it did: a bright, blazing light of pain across the middle of my thighs. I let out a cry that probably sounded fairly desperate. The next several strokes landed this way, seeming to illuminate my entire body, each stroke feeling like it covered much more flesh than it actually did. I struggled to keep from reaching back, and sometimes raised my feet after the belt landed and had to force myself to move them back down before I was asked to.
Having my thighs spanked and otherwise punished has always been psychologically important to me. It’s the ultimate love/hate relationship, and I was fascinated with it even before I actually started to play. It always seemed like a punishment within a punishment: the harshest of sanctions.
When the belting was finished and my legs were striped by the strokes I had received, I felt very passive and chastised. I curled up in Paul’s lap, thanking him for punishing me, as is our protocol. I felt very young and very taken care of, and these are two of the feelings that I cherish the most that can come from this thing we do.
I’ll be careful with my shoes in the future, not because I’m afraid of being punished again, but because I know that it’s important and that Paul cares about me enough to make sure I know, and that’s the best feeling.
I haven’t done a Kink of the Week topic in a while. I looked at the list, and discovered that I’ve missed two full two week cycles, but that Jade left them open (possibly by accident, but I’m willing to take advantage of that). Both the topics that I missed are ones that I have a lot to say about. So, like the horribly naughty girl I am, I’m just going to slide this homework into the bottom of the pile and hope that my teacher believes it was there the entire time.
The kink of the week topic (from a while ago) was Dacryphilia, or the fetish surrounding crying. Without further ado, I shall now address this!
My most read post on this blog is one from 2012 entitled “On Being Spanked to Tears.” In it, I outlined the different ways in which a spanking could lead me to cry. Three years later, I’ve grown and learned and experienced many more things, and I’d like to add some new thoughts on the topic.
Crying is something which carries a great deal of importance for many spankos. I get the impression that spanking is one of the fetishes which most embraces, or even focuses on, dacryphilia. When I started crying on one of my first spanking video shoots, I felt almost embarrassed by it, but the producer called my tears “liquid gold” and told me that a tear covered face was “the moneyshot” of spanking videos. So what is it about crying that is so central to a large number of people’s spanking kinks?
The first is the idea that tears are tied into the “realness” of a spanking. I hear this often in comments various places where I post spanking photos on the internet: “It’s not a real spanking unless you make her cry.” I haven’t spent enough time immersed in other kink communities to know whether or not they have a similar obsession with verisimilitude as the spanking community presents, but I know that for spankos, we talk about what makes a spanking real all the time. Tears are very tied into this.
Part of this obsession with making spankings real comes from the fact that a lot of our fantasies are based on things that actually happened in the past. I don’t knock this at all, and totally embrace that many of my core fantasies are based around the recreation of school, institutional or domestic punishments that used to actually take place. So, sometimes the word “real” is meant to mean “similar to a historic/real life spanking situation.” And in our conceptions of those scenes, tears are a key part. The first hand accounts of these punishments that we read or hear almost always end with the spankee bawling, sobbing and crying uncontrollably. Of course they would: these punishments were painful, embarrassing and, whether we want to focus on this or not, non consensual.
Before I was ever spanked, I read as much writing about spanking as I could, and I remember being deeply engulfed in the fantasy of being helpless, overpowered, intimidated by authority, stripped, held down and thoroughly chastised. These fantasies always ended with me in tears. Now that I spend my life actually enjoying spanking play, I like to recreate these fantasies. I like to make them as realistic to what I imagined as possible. I buy uniforms from school uniform suppliers, or even better, find vintage ones that were being worn at a time when corporal punishment was actually practiced. I get implements that are also vintage, and which were actually used in the original situations. When I can, I like to dress up the setting, finding places to play that look like I’ve stepped into my fantasy world. And I like to be spanked hard and, if it’s possible, pushed to cry. My tears are part of what makes it feel like I’ve truly created the scene from my fantasy. In this situation, “realness” can be better defined as “authenticity” and tears add to that. [Author’s note: I do not actually support non consensual corporal punishment of any kind, and fantasizing about recreating something in a way which is positive and consensual is not the same as supporting the original institution from which my fantasies stem.]
Another thing which I believe has influenced the spanking community’s interest in tears is the way which spanking pornography evolved. In the pre-internet days, before the first spanking videos were even available, spanking porn was delivered via magazine. It was much harder to find a like minded partner at this time, so spanking porn carried even more importance: for many people with spanking fetishes, those magazines would be the only way they’d ever get to interact with their kink. When you look at spanking in still photographs, it is very hard to tell whether someone is actually being spanked or if it’s just a picture. It’s even harder to tell if the spanking has been severe or “transient and trifling.” One can easily use acting to make a facial expression that depicts being in pain. There are only two things that can make a still image show that a hard spanking is actually taking place: the presence of marks and the presence of tears. Admittedly, neither of these things is actually a good litmus test for the severity of a scene, since some people simply never cry, others can cry from a light hand spanking, some people will be bruised purple by the same hand spanking but others can take a good, hard caning and have only a pink bottom to show for it after. But these visual queues at least suggest to us that a spanking is actually happening and that it actually hurts. Even now that our spanking pornography is primarily videographic, we often continue to identify the severity of a scene based on these two visual queues, hence the fact that my tears were liquid gold to the producer in my earlier story. Both tears and marks send us a strong visual message: that a spanking is happening here and it’s real: here, realness can be defined as a spanking carrying any level of severity.
Leaving aside realness, there’s another thing that makes tears very appealing to many spankos: vulnerability. No matter who a person is, they’re vulnerable when they cry. They’ve let their guard down and they’re showing you their inner emotion. They aren’t fighting against you or resisting you as you spank them. They are, in a way, letting you in. This is the draw of tears for many spankos. Tears are a sign of intimacy. Tears are a sign that your feelings are genuine. Tears are a sign that lessons are being taken to heart. Of course, a person can be vulnerable without crying, but tears give you a tangible sign of this vulnerability. For the person crying, tears can be refreshing. They can give an emotional release. They can get something out that words can’t articulate. Communicating this way can be very emotionally intimate and draw people together.
Of course, no matter the reason, not everyone likes tears. For some, the presence of tears makes them worry that they’ve really upset or truly hurt their partner. Others find tears or being made to cry triggering, as a reminder of a time when something non consensual brought about that sort of emotional state. Others don’t like to be that vulnerable, and that’s entirely okay, too. Despite all the reasons why tears may make something feel more authentic or more real, a scene can be perfectly wonderful and very real without them,
What makes a spanko cry?
Personally, I cry all the time. Outside of the spanking world, I cry when I’m sad, lonely, scared, hurt, even angry. I’ve always cried a lot. I was made fun of for it throughout most of my life, often being called a crybaby or other similar taunts. As an adult, I was made to feel that crying was something I should find embarrassing, that it was a mark of lack of self control or that I wasn’t a “real adult” (another concept that has caused me a lot of struggle).
The first time I was ever spanked, I didn’t just cry, I sobbed. I cried until I shook, in a way which was extremely disproportionate to the severity of the spanking I was receiving. It took me a long time to unwind the tight ball of emotions that I felt there, but the primary one was relief. I was relieved that after eighteen long years of carrying around this seemingly dark secret, my most precious fantasy was coming to life. And, once I started crying, I was relieved to discover that it was perfectly acceptable in this situation to cry when I felt the impulse to.
Crying from a spanking isn’t something rare for me. I’d say that it happens about 40% of the time that I have a serious scene. It’s not uncommon for someone to specifically ask to make me cry, either in my personal play or during a video or session. Other people have asked me to make them cry when I was Topping them, or to teach them how to make someone cry. It isn’t this simple. Everyone is different and every spanking presents a different set of emotional and physical stimuli. Like during that first spanking I received, the cause of what brings one to tears can be hard to unravel. It can be caused or hindered by a variety of things. Here are some of those that I’ve discovered.
Crying fueled by regret for bad behavior:
This was one of the causes of crying which I identified in my post three years ago. This is one of the causes of tears that people most often think about when imagining a punishment spanking. You feel bad about what you did, so, aided by the scolding words and pain associated with your punishment, you cry. It’s important to point out that just because someone isn’t crying during a disciplinary spanking, that doesn’t mean that they don’t regret whatever they did to earn the punishment. Everyone expresses their emotions in a different way. This reason for crying is something which the Top can influence to a degree, especially with the words they choose when scolding, and by creating an environment in which the bottom feels safe to be vulnerable. For me, sternness, seriousness and calm are important in creating this sort of atmosphere.
One thing I noted in my original post which I highly agree with is that if someone is crying due to regret for bad behavior during a scene which isn’t meant to be disciplinary, then something isn’t right. Sometimes, the differences between funishment or play punishment and real discipline can get blurred, and it’s important to make it clear to the person that you’re playing with what kind of spanking you’re really giving them.
Crying fueled by letting someone down
I realized recently that, to me, there’s a difference between the feeling of regretting having misbehaved and feeling bad that I’ve disappointed someone that I respect. In detangling the feelings that I have when I get a real punishment spanking, I’ve realized that a large part of what makes it emotional for me isn’t just the fact that what I did was wrong and needs to be corrected, it’s also the fact that I’ve let down a person who I love and respect. This is part of the reason that I only have an interest in doing these kinds of scenes with someone who I know well and feel these feelings towards. Because, really, we all know which stings more: a hairbrush or the words “I’m disappointed in you.” Just knowing that I’ve let my partner down will almost always bring tears to my eyes, without even the need for anything else.
Crying fueled by stress relief or emotional release
Sometimes, a person who gets spanked just needs to be spanked. They have too much bottled up emotionally. They are having trouble focusing because their mind is full of distractions and they need something to center them. Life is just wearing them down, and they need to not have the responsibility of being in control all the time. This kind of crying can come from any kind of spanking, and I think that’s it’s actually fairly common, although you can intentionally try to create this atmosphere for a person who needs it by providing a safe and secure emotional environment surrounding the scene. For me, this works best when it’s a mixture of caring and sternness, and when the spanking slowly builds up to a place where I can’t resist it anymore and I *have* to let my vulnerability physically manifest.
Crying fueled by submission or surrender
This is another one of the types of crying that I identified in my much earlier post. I wrote that post when I was a fairly new submissive, and when subspace was something which remained very alien to me. Here’s what I had to say:
Some bottoms talk about subspace- going off into some floaty, magical, trance-like, trippy state from getting a very hard beating which pushes them towards submission. They sink into the bed, they stop feeling pain, they float on endorphins, they get high, they can’t talk properly…
This doesn’t happen for me (although it did once). I’m a very cerebral person, and I’m uncomfortable letting go of my awareness. Instead, when I’ve been pushed to a place where I cease my fighting, I get to a point of submissive crying. It’s a calm sort of sobbing where there’s no urgency in the sound. I’ve given myself over to the spanking that I’m receiving and I have no will regarding when it will end. It’s certainly not as exciting to talk about, or as filled with mystery and intrigue as traditionally described subspace is, but the land of my submission is just a place where I lie still and take a lot of hurt and cry about it. It probably sounds pretty pathetic to a listener, and it doesn’t feel “good” in a traditional sense, but it’s a very peaceful place where I feel incredibly safe and loved.
Nowadays, the more traditional subspace is no longer illusive to me the way it used to be, but I still find myself getting into this kind of “submissive cry space” (that’s a technical term :P) on a pretty regular basis. “Traditional” subspace doesn’t actually feel so submissive to me: it feels passive, and I identify those two things as being related but different. When I’m in a deep subspace, I don’t really feel things the same way. I’ve let myself be taken to a place where spankings don’t actually really hurt. When I’m in this space, I still feel everything, but I’ve given up my resistance to those feelings and I’m willing to let them happen. This is a place that one should only go to with someone they truly trust, since it basically means that you’re just going to let someone do whatever they want to you and not resist, but it can be a very beautiful thing in the right situation.
Crying fueled by physical pain
When I wrote my original post, I said that I felt like it was taboo to admit that I sometimes cry because spankings hurt that much. I don’t know if I think that anymore. I think that’s dangerous for a Top to believe that crying is the *only* sign of physical pain, or that by increasing the amount of pain that you’re causing someone you can *make* them cry, but I do think that it’s very common for people to simply cry because something hurts. I have to feel safe in order to do this, and I have to feel some sort of connection to the Top that I’m playing with, but this is honestly a very common reason for me to start crying. This hurts: that’s what this is all about. And sometimes, this hurts enough to make me cry. Nothing more complicated than that. That’s okay. There doesn’t have to be some grand and difficult to explain background behind everything. Sometimes, it’s just that someone is hitting you with a piece of wood and that hurts enough to make you cry.
The spanking community puts so many positive associations on crying that it can sometimes be easy to forget that crying isn’t always a good thing. For some people, crying is a sign that they are upset and that the scene needs to stop. If someone starts crying in a way that you don’t expect from them, or from a scene that wasn’t meant to be that intense, it’s a good idea to check in. Sometimes, when a person starts crying, it’s because the spanking isn’t fun anymore. The scene isn’t working for them. But if they’re already in an emotional place where they feel particularly passive, it can be hard to use their safeword. While it might break up the scene in a way that isn’t ideal to check in with your partner, it’s better to be safe than sorry in this case.
Other times, a person cries during a scene because, to put it in the vernacular, the Top is being a dick. Using people’s fears, playing to their insecurities, saying insulting or hurtful things and other forms of emotional sadism certainly get inside someone’s head and make them cry, but it isn’t creating the kind of safe vulnerability that I talked about before: it’s just being abusive. The bottom is crying because they’re hurt in a bad way. It’s entirely possible to do consensual emotional sadism/masochism scenes: there are people who are into that. But this is something that has to be very explicitly negotiated before playing. Additionally, it’s important that if you are going to play this way, that the people who are around you (if you’re playing in a public space) know what you’re about to do and that what you’re doing is consensual: probably not the best scene for a suite party.
So, bottoms, do you cry when you get spanked? Tops, do you like it when the person you are playing with cries from a spanking? Do tears carry a certain emotional weight to you? What do they bring to the spanking? Let me know in the comments section!
[Final author’s note: I used the term “we” a lot in this post. I do not mean to speak for everyone in the spanking community: this is just shorter to say than “many people in the spanking community.” I hope this was not offensive to anyone.]
For those of you who don’t know, Kink of the Week is a biweekly prompt which opens up a conversation between bloggers across the kink and sex writing spectrum, each focusing on how they feel about a particular kinky topic. ❤︎
In all my years (ok, all three years) of my spanking modeling career, there was one thing which I had never done: a video depicting a real life domestic discipline punishment from someone with whom I had that relationship.
That wording sounds a little specific, and it’s meant to be. Nearly all the videos that I do are discipline or punishment themed, but most are obviously roleplayed, creative scenarios. I’ve done a number of videos in which the thing that I’m being spanked for is something which I really did, but this mentally different than actually being punished for something. In order for a punishment to work, there must be two things in place. First of all, the person being punished must recognize the authority (even if temporary) of the person punishing them, and secondly, the person being punished must be sufficiently vulnerable to allow themselves to feel chastised. Most of the time, if a scenario is punitive, these two things aren’t in place.
Now, I specified that I had never done this with someone with whom I was in a real life relationship. I have done one video which was undeniably a real discipline video. It was between Robert Wolf (of Lily Starr Spanking) and myself years ago. Even though Robert and I don’t have a normal disciplinary relationship, I consider him to be an “off chart boss of me”: he’s one of the people whose authority I respect in general, and I’m quite likely to listen to what he says. We’re very close friends and we have a relationship based on mutual respect, so I have a lot of trust for him. In this particular situation, I was frustrated with myself, incredibly vulnerable and feeling the need to be punished, so all the key pieces were there. It was a super intense experience, but I only ever felt like it was the right situation to do this the one time. If you’re interested, you can get that clip here.
On the subject of Lily Starr and Robert Wolf, they got married the other day. They had a small but wonderful ceremony of mostly vanilla people, but Paul, Amoni and I attended, too, Amoni taking (let me just say gorgeous) photos for them. We had an awesome time, and it was a really special occasion. At one point during the reception, though, I got flustered by all the excitement and ended up saying something really rude to Paul. Since we were in vanilla company, he just gave me a look, but I knew entirely what it meant. I may be frequently naughty: making little bits of mischief, whining, stamping my foot and putting trash in Paul’s pocket when we’re out and I don’t have pockets of my own, but ultimately, I’m still very good. There’s a distinct difference between “fun trouble” and “real trouble.” I actually had never gotten in trouble for being disrespectful to Paul before. I DO respect him, and I want him to know that. I want to be polite and show him that I appreciate all the love and care that he gives me. I felt immediately distressed by my own behavior, but I put it away and got back to having fun (and soon, cake!) with my friends.
We got home fairly late that night and were all tired from a long day, so Paul told me that he would punish me the next day. We were also planning on filming clips for Kitchen Sink Spanking the next day, and as I went to bed I thought about what we were going to do for it. Kitchen Sink has always meant to be a representation of (if not our real lives) then our real personalities and styles of play. Sometimes the scenarios are goofy and cute and other times the scenes are severe enough to make me really cry and still others are sexy, but none of them had ever brushed on our actual punishment scenes. I came to the conclusion that this was something that I wanted to try doing. I’ve always felt like discipline was something very private. Sometimes, I don’t want to talk about my punishments explicitly online because I don’t want to share what I did wrong with everyone. In the past, when I was dating my ex, I felt like I couldn’t share my disciplinary scenes because “others wouldn’t understand” or they would be judgmental about the harshness involved (I partially felt that because my ex directly told me this, and partially because they actually were overly harsh and lacking in a certain kind of affection). But now that I’m with Paul, my feelings about this are very different. It’s “hard enough” and certainly very stern, but the whole proceeding is very loving. There’s something special about it. I decided that I felt ready to share this with the internet.
Interestingly enough, I didn’t get a chance to bring this up to Paul because he brought it up to me, and we talked about it briefly. One thing that I’ve always been afraid of when it comes to filming real punishments is that having a camera on would change the way that the actual punishment and aftercare would go, and after talking about it, I felt sure that it wouldn’t. We agreed that we would simply do things the way that we would if there wasn’t a camera. Since Amoni was here, we asked her if she would want to watch and be in the video and she agreed.
Paul set up the camera and left the room and Amoni and I sat on the bed, talking. This is the only part of the clip that seems a little bit contrived, because I knew that Paul was about to come in and punish me, and I think I probably look nervous, because I was. Soon, he came in and scolded me, inviting Amoni (or “Ami” because “Amoni” doesn’t really sound like a name) to watch: since I was rude in front of her, I could be punished in front of her. He was carrying the tawse. I’m sure I’ve talked about this before, but of all the reasonable implements in the world, this is the one that “gets to me” the most. I have long regarded it as being particularly scary, and because it’s an implement that I’ve primarily only had applied to me by Paul, it also carries a lot of emotional weight. And it really, really hurts. It’s heavy and horrible and biting. The design is so simple yet so effective and so unforgiving. I can hardly say the word “tawse” and I feel a little shiver just to type it now.
He directed me over pillows at the edge of the bed and lifted the skirt of my dress. I grabbed Amoni’s hand. Then he gave me the first stroke. I felt particularly vulnerable because I was being watched. However, I was more focused on the fact that Amoni was watching me than the camera, so it was probably a good idea that we had her there (I also really appreciated her hand holding). It only took three strokes to make me burst into real, genuine tears. Why? Because it hurt, for one thing, and the strokes were being applied without any warmup. More importantly, though, I felt horrible for my behavior and I knew just how badly I needed to be punished. I was very, very vulnerable. I felt small and young. I also felt a serious sense of security. There’s security that comes from knowing that if I mess something up, Paul isn’t going to get mad at me or ignore me or push me away. He’s going to punish me, hard, because he loves me, and he knows that I can and will do better than this. The whole thing makes me feel very cared for and safe. I can easily let go of my inhibitions and cry myself out, which is exactly what I did. If you watch the video, it might seem like my reactions are a little over the top. That’s just the way I am when I’m in this headspace. I feel everything strongly and I react the same. Besides, if I haven’t said so before, that horrible thing hurts like nothing else.
By the time we were finished, I was a sobbing mess. Paul sat down on the bed and scooped me up into his lap for cuddling and forgiveness. I continued to cry on his shoulder for quite a while as he assured me that everything was alright and that I was very loved. Honestly, this is the part that I’m happiest to be sharing. I think that the world needs more tenderness in it, especially the spanking world. While I might not feel entirely proud of the way I took the punishment (there’s a lot of wailing) I feel very proud to share this special moment created by my vulnerability and his love for me. Really, this is what Domestic Discipline is all about.
I feel very pleased with the final product of the film. It’s pretty much the most intimate thing that I’ve ever done on the internet, and I love how it shows the whole range of emotion that we go through when doing this.
Will I do more videos like this in the future? Probably. It honestly felt good to be able to share this. It didn’t change the way things went in the least. There’s something wonderfully exhibitionistic about it.
I hope that you’ll consider checking it out if you’re interested. It’s now my favorite spanking video that I’ve ever made. You can see the clip here.
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! ♥
Last time that I posted, it was about my real-life punishment dynamics. This week’s KOTW (kink of the week) topic is Funishment, or play punishment. This a wonderfully related topic which allows me to continue on my previous train-of-thought. (Thanks, Jade!)
As I stated last post, I didn’t start out in the scene with any kind of dynamic that included play-punishment, or really, play spankings of any kind. Spankings were srs business only. When I started to play with my previous play partner, J, we never had any sort of disciplinary relationship, or any kind of power-exchange at all. It took a while for me to get used to this, at first. The spankings kind of just “happened.” I came over and we talked and cuddled, then he spanked me because he liked spanking girls and I wanted to be spanked. Afterwards, I would usually make him some kind of baked good, often without returning to my proper state of dress so he could watch me bob around his kitchen in an apron with my red, swollen bottom on display. It was a great tradition, and I loved those scenes, but it often left me feeling unfulfilled, like something was missing from the interaction that we had just had.
One day, I came over and J. suggested that we do a roleplay scene instead of our “usual.” I felt really hesitant about this. “I don’t even know how to do that,” I remember saying nervously. I had never done anything even vaguely like this before, and I was afraid that I’d somehow fail miserably at it and “ruin” the scene. J. coaxed me into it, suggesting that we play a scene in which my character had similar traits to the ones that I was expressing: nervousness and apprehension are by no means uncommon parts of a lot of spanking scenarios. So we decided to do a scene in which a girl who had never been spanked before was being punished afterschool by a teacher for consistently being late to class. Now, this scene seems so typical and almost unexciting, but at the time, my heart raced. I went into the other room, and we agreed that when I came back in, we’d begin playing.
I stood at the door with my hand on the knob, trying to channel my personal jitteriness into that which I felt belonged to my character. The scene was actually very similar to the things that I had fantasized about for a long time, so I knew how I expected it to go, but I couldn’t quite relax. I stood there waiting for a good five minutes before I came out. J. was sitting on the sofa wearing dress pants, a button-up shirt and a tie. I felt my stomach twitch when I saw his serious, annoyed looking facial expression.
“This meeting started five minutes ago, Alex,” he chided. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to be late to a discussion about your tardiness?”
I felt my face grow hot and I looked down at the ground, nervously twirling my hair and fiddling with a stray string on my dress. “Sorry,” was all I managed. I felt unsure about “how I was doing” as a roleplayer, but I felt very immersed in the scene, transfixed by J.’s tone.
J. continued to lecture me, being stern and giving plenty of details about the things that I had done. He was amazing at thinking things up on the fly, and I found myself responding easily and naturally. When it was time for the actual spanking, he pulled me over his lap forcefully and lifted my dress as I gasped and protested. I had never really protested against a spanking before. My attitude towards them had always been passivity, but here, it didn’t only feel acceptable to protest, it felt right. J. smacked the back of my leg, hard and corrected me for that sort of behavior and began to give me a flurry of hard spanks, scolding me about how I needed to get myself together and take things seriously instead of flitting around the school in a disorganized mess. It was actually during this spanking, as I was kicking and writhing and J. was pinning me down and punctuating his stern words with firm smacks that I realized what had been missing from my previous scenes with him: energy.
There’s a certain energy and drama and that comes from the dance of scolding and protesting that simply isn’t there in other kinds of spankings. Some atmospheres create a strong but different energy, like the reaffirmative spankings that I mentioned before, which focus on giving an intense reminder of each partner’s role in the dynamic, or spankings that are done for emotional release (“just because you need to be beaten”) or as a love act. I love these sorts of scenes, and I do enjoy having entirely arbitrary “just for the love of spanking” scenes now and again, too, but my mind draws itself back to punishment scenarios again and again and again.
J. and I had a successful first roleplay, and we began doing more and more scenes like that, sometimes following up on others which we had done earlier. Still, we played infrequently and mixed our previous “standard” play with the roleplay punishments, so I probably only did a total of ten roleplays before I moved.
Malignus and I never roleplayed together. In fact, we very rarely engaged in play-punishment of any kind, as I felt like I wasn’t being sufficiently submissive if I intentionally misbehaved, and he tended to respond to things like that with removal of attention instead of “feeding into it” by punishing the perpetrator. During this time I became very focused on the idea of being a good girl and being as submissive as possible, so when I went to my first spanking get together, I felt at a loss as the other girls ran around doing complex pranks. A friend who was similarly into being good and I made an attempt at hiding an implement at one point, but we ended up wussing out and returned it to it’s rightful place. I received no play punishment spankings at that party.
When I went to my first national spanking party later that year (TASSP), I was very nervous about how I was supposed to act. The first night, I found myself sitting with Pandora Blake on the floor of Joe and Ten’s suite, having a conversation about this. I expressed my concerns about not knowing how to “brat” and Pandora gave me suggestions based on her experience. We came to the conclusion that intentional misbehavior can’t be too annoying, can’t be actually malicious or damaging to people or things and should be clever and/or funny. With this in mind, we got a magic marker from somewhere and crawled over to where IMLX was seated and began drawing cats on the bottom of his bare foot. IMLX and I knew each other from the internet and I knew that he was good natured, so he seemed like a good candidate for our naughtiness. It took him a surprisingly long time to realize that cats were being drawn on his foot. I don’t know what that says about him as a person. 😛 When he did figure it out, he playfully spanked both of us, scolding us (including in Russian!) for being naughty, cat-on-foot-drawing girls. It was seriously playfully, and I was seriously pleased.
Overtime, I sort of grew into myself in this regard, and began to figure out ways to initiate playfully punitive scenes. Sometimes I planned roleplay scenarios with people that I liked. Other times, I just whined a little. This seemed to work wonders. 😛
My play punishment life took a turn for the “more frequent” when I became friends with Bad Alex. Why? Because Bad Alex is fucking Bad, and she’s amazingly good at it. Her mind is a machine that takes a simple idea and turns it into the most trouble possible. Besides being good at raising hell and getting herself spanked, she’s also magically able to get me into play-trouble to degrees that I’ve never known were possible. For example, at BBW she set things up so I got 16 strokes of the cane because she punched me in the knee. That’s talent right there. I’m still kinda reeling from that almost a year later.
Bad Alex and I like to roleplay together. While some of the roleplays that I do are dark and serious, the ones that include both the Alexes are always kind of off the wall. For example, at July’s Crimson Moon party, 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.
We’ve done other, really fun scenes since then, and we currently have a ridiculously fun roleplay in the planning stages. It involves us pretending to get kicked out of someplace and needing to be picked up by our angry authority figures, who will then scold us all the way home before punishing us quite severely. In a Fetlife conversation on the subject, Bad Alex stated that she had been DOING RESEARCH into ways that we could get into trouble there.When I first started playing with Paul, I had very conflicting feelings about play punishment. At that point in my life, I had never had a D/s relationship which included funishment: these had always been two separate things. Serious disciplinary and D/s relationships vs. fun play partners and Tops with whom I could do roleplays and non-serious, play punishment scenes. Because I felt a strong and very real sense of submission towards Paul (which I had been aware of from the very first time that we played) I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to try to engage in intentional naughtiness to earn fun spankings. It took a while before I realized that this was totally acceptable, helped along the way by the fact that Mila and I really started harassing each other in sisterly antics at that time and Paul happily took to scolding me for things like “internet hair pulling.”
By the time that we had our cabin visit my desire to play in this way exploded. Still keeping in mind the principles which Pandora and I had identified, I spent the whole time messing around. Sometimes when I wanted to be spanked (which was most of the time) I would just directly (although very coyly) ask for it. Usually, though, I expressed this want by doing slightly naughty things: climbing on the furniture when there was a sign that said I couldn’t, replacing the sign with another one which said I could, naming a chair after Mila and kicking it, opening a desk drawer while I was sitting on his lap at the desk, finding a piece of chalk and using it to draw on the back of his black shirt et cetera. Usually, these things were met with playful, often affectionate spankings that had the “you’re a naughty girl” type of attitude but were ultimately just-for-fun. They were hard enough, mind you, but I only ever felt enough like I was in trouble for it to be exciting, not to tap into that set of emotions discussed before.
Occasionally, these scenes were more physically severe. One day, after the chalk had been taken away, I opened the same drawer during the same sort of cuddle to find a few paperclips, which I clipped to Paul’s shirt collar. Seeming unamused (in a way that I could tell was not genuine displeasure) he called it “abuse of stationary”. I called this “bogus.” He produced a hairbrush. First, though, he pulled me over his lap on the sofa and spanked my bottom quite hard with his hand, then he moved on to smack the backs of my thighs. It was hard and thorough, and he was stern and strict with me. I was crying quite earnestly by the time that he had finished with my thighs, but he still continued to get the hairbrush and apply it quite effectively as well. I was a mess of tears when it was done, and in a certain way, I felt legitimately contrite, even though I hadn’t done anything. It was like I had the relief and security of having been punished without any of the most unenjoyable parts of it, as I knew Paul wasn’t actually disappointed in me for wasting paperclips. The spanking was followed with the same snuggles that would come after a real punishment spanking, and I was left feeling blissful and loved.
Now that we’re living together, play punishment is a rather big part of the daily routine that Paul and I have developed. Sometimes it’s a quick and lighthearted spanking for something like walking outside barefoot and getting leaves all over my feet (which was delivered in the backyard, by the way. Oh the embarrassment!) and other times it’s more emotionally intense and physically severe, like the paperclip scene. Still other times, we engage in roleplaying just-for-fun, but with a punishment scenario (such as a scene where when Paul went away to find something to spank me with, I hid in the other room’s closet and might have at least gotten away with it for a few minutes if my cat hadn’t sat himself down in front of the door and meowed loudly until Paul came and dragged me out).
Ultimately, play punishment is now up there with “reaffirmative” for my favorite day-to-day style of spanking. Besides just being fun, it also opens up the door to a lot of possibilities. For example, I feel horrible about myself if I don’t take a real punishment spanking well. If I protest, or move out of position, or make too big of a fuss I just feel terrible inside afterwards, like I didn’t properly atone for the original misdeed and I’m still being a disappointment (note: I’m not made to feel this way. It’s just residual insecurity). During a play punishment, though, I can happily enjoy thrashing around, resisting, protesting, shouting “No! No! No! No!” and otherwise doing everything in my power not to take my spanking well. It’s delightful to be overpowered, to have my protests fall on deaf ears and to be MADE to take the rest of it. It’s also wonderfully exciting to play with non-consensual themes during roleplay which I obviously wouldn’t be exploring in any other way. There’s something invigorating and yes, sexy (gasp!) about that. ♥
So, this Kink of the Week post is blatantly late. I don’t know if it will even get posted up on the KOTW page, as it’s technically Tuesday of the new week now, but I wanted to write about this topic anyway, so I think it’ll be a worthwhile post even if it “doesn’t count” in the end.
This week’s topic is “real” (as opposed to “play”) punishment. Discipline and punishment are things which I’ve always been open about as existing in my life. They’re a huge portion of what I get out of TTWD, yet I’ve only written about disciplinary scenes a handful of times over the course of the past two years. Usually, I’ve included the story when what I did wrong can be retold in a way which is comical, like this post from a long time ago or my recent “Target Incident.” This is because I find actual punishment to be very private, personal and intimate. I used to feel very uncomfortable sharing this aspect of my life with the general public. Now, I feel a lot more comfortable with it, although I sometimes don’t want to talk about the things that I’ve done to require the punishment. So this shall be my first post ever which is explicitly about this.
Spanking first entered my consciousness at an incredibly early age. I remember no inciting incident, simply a burning obsession to know more about it and a feeling of secrecy and shame about my ever developing “interest.” All of the thoughts I had and the fantasies that I made up were about disciplinary spankings, as was the entirety of the media that I encountered that had spanking in it, although that was extremely sparse. In my mind, spanking was a very, very serious thing. It was a severe punishment, the ultimate sanction, the consequence of the worst behavior. As I became a teenager, I craved guidance, structure and discipline in my life, longing for the feeling of being loved and taken care of that I imagined would accompany those things. Spanking as part of sexual activity didn’t occur to me at that time. Spanking as something fun and enjoyable seemed like a weird and alien idea. This contributed to my early confusion about my desires. I characterized this activity as something entirely unenjoyable, but desired nothing more than to experience it for myself.
When I turned eighteen and I *did* get my first spanking, it was for demonstrative and introductory purposes. After that, my relationship with SF (my first Top) was entirely disciplinary. It allowed for a lot of space, which is to say that he never policed me. I simply came to him and self-reported about the things which I had done which were against the standards which we had mutually agreed upon and he punished me for them. The relationship was very sterile and austere, with an understanding of affection and caring between us which was rarely expressed. We were kind of an odd pair, me and SF because he’s Forever The Most Serious Man Ever (SF stands for ‘Serious Face”) and I’m patently ridiculous, but he had a pretty decent amount of patience for my antics and I enjoyed his stern nature. It was really, at the time, everything that I wanted because it was everything that I had ever imagined that a spanking relationship could be. I did my best to be good. I sometimes was not, and when that happened, I was soundly corrected.
For the first five years (I think) that I was getting spanked, it was only by SF. After he went back to England and, a little later, I moved to Los Angeles for the first time, I started to venture into the scene there. When I did, I had trouble with my identity and I struggled to identify what I actually wanted. At first, I attempted to find someone to replace SF, which I found tremendously disappointing. Everyone wanted something different from spanking. Some people wanted dominance. Some people wanted sexuality. Some people wanted to embrace and explore the younger, more vulnerable side of me. Some people wanted to do complicated roleplay. Some people just liked smacking a girl’s bottom without any reason for it. It was during this time that I realized that needing to be punished and needing to be spanked weren’t the same thing. Both were real and valid needs, but spanking could be a variety of other things. With my play-partner, J, I explored playing “just for fun” and did my first forays into roleplay. I explored arbitrary and enjoyable spankings with a variety of friends that I met in the local scene, many of whom weren’t spankos, and therefore had a vastly different attitude towards playing than that which I was used to. Eventually, I met Malignus and began to question whether or not I was actually interested in submission. I determined that I was and began the process of exploring that with him.
While punishment was a fairly significant part of my first D/s dynamic, I’m not going to go into the details of how it worked between Malignus and I. At the time that I started blogging, Malignus and I discussed what parts of our relationship he was comfortable with me posting about and we decided that the details of my punishments were too personal to be written about, although I sometimes asked if it was alright for me to post about a particular scene (like the post I linked to earlier) and he always agreed. Although our relationship has ended, I am going to continue to honor this agreement because I feel that it would be disrespectful and “the wrong thing to do” not to. It’s not like there was anything secretive or mysterious about this aspect of our relationship that others shouldn’t know about. That’s just what we decided at the time, so I’m sticking to it. Punishment certainly wasn’t the center of our relationship, though, and I’d say that it was probably the least common reason for me to be spanked, as the most frequent spankings were arbitrary, goal-based or D/s centric, reaffirmative scenes. This was a huge change from where I’d started out, but it was a positive difference, as I had expanded my options for what a spanking could mean.
Fast forward to the present time: I’m extremely comfortable with my role as a submissive, and as I continue to grow in the my spanko identity, I’ve branched out to embrace forms of play, atmospheres and additional kinks that I would have never thought I’d love so much when I was first starting out in my exploration. In my relationship with Paul, punishment is both something that we play with for mutual enjoyment and something that can be as serious as can be. Playing with lighthearted punishments for silly things by no means dilutes the actual act, and it’s just as important to me now as it was when it was just a daydream.
Sometimes, punishments happen immediately after the punishable behavior takes place (like in the “Target” story). Other times this isn’t possible, and I’m punished later that evening (usually right before bed) if that’s an option. If not, the offense and the requisite discipline are entered into a notebook entitled “Alex’s Behavioral Record” and the punishment is meted out at a later date. The “book method” of dealing with things was the only way that punishment was delivered when we were in a long distance relationship: things got recorded and then, when we saw each other, those things were addressed. I really, really like the fact that things don’t get forgotten just because “too much” time has passed since the original behavior. It’s obviously more effective for me to be punished as quickly thereafter as possible, but the inevitability of knowing that at some point, no matter what, I’m going to get corrected for the things that I do that I shouldn’t gives me a marvelous sense of security.
Basically all of my punishments are corporal, ranging from OTK spankings to a series of hard smacks on the insides of my thighs to strappings and canings. Since all these activities are also part of our “for fun” play, the only differences are atmosphere, tone and mood. Being punished makes me feel very vulnerable, and Paul takes a very stern approach towards punishing me (which I like very much). Often times just the scolding brings me to tears, and when I’m in that headspace, there’s very little pleasant about the spanking that follows. I say “very little” instead of “nothing” because being punished makes me feel particularly loved and taken care of, and I do enjoy that feeling, even as it’s happening. Being disciplined almost always makes me cry, and afterwards the seriousness of the actual punishment quickly melts away and I climb onto Paul’s lap, sometimes continuing to cry for a bit as he tenderly comforts me and assures me that I’m a good girl again. Everything is right in the world during those moments, and I couldn’t feel safer.
As much as I enjoy “for fun” “play” punishment, and as ultimately positive and edifying as the experience of being discipline is for me, at the end of the day, I want to be a good girl. I want Paul to be proud of me, and I do my best to avoid getting into real trouble. It’s intricate, the way that something which is so enjoyable in a different setting can be made truly punitive, but it’s not a novel idea, nor is it a particularly rare phenomenon.
I hope that this is at least somewhat articulate: I’ve just recovered from having been ill, and I’m struggling to get caught up, so I wasn’t able to really draft this the way I usually do for posts that are this wordy, and I was getting really tired by the time I was finishing it. I’ll be posting more about other aspects of this topic in the future, so stay tuned. ♥
I first met my friend Prux over fetlife nearly a year ago. We got to see each other in person for the first time at BBW. I was practically shocked by what a sweet girl she is: caring, gentle, kind, polite and loving. We got to spend much more time together at July’s Crimson Moon party, and it was then that I knew that we were going to be really good friends. My favorite memory from our interactions during the summer was when we both stayed the night at Joe and Ten’s house following the July party. The Brat Brigade was in full force and ridiculous hijinx were happening all around us. At one point, Bad Alex had gotten me into trouble and I was waiting nervously for the consequences of my actions. Prux came and stood next to me sweetly, holding my hand.
“Do you want to go hide?” she asked. The other girls had been running around the house all evening, hiding in closets and attempting to escape spankings. At this point, I’d never hidden to avoid punishment before in my life (and I’m quite sure Prux hadn’t either), so it seemed like a possibly fun experiment. First, we hid in the closet but it was dark and a bit scary in there, so when no one was looking, we crept up the stairs and out into the front yard. We considered hiding under someone’s car like cats, but decided that was not a wise idea and simply crouched behind it. We stayed there giggling and holding hands for quite a while before we realized that no one was looking for us, so we gave up and wandered back to the basement where everyone was hanging out and confessed what we had done. I took my spanking and then Prux and I cuddled. It would have been fairly anti-climactic if she hadn’t been so damn adorable. That night, we both slept on the same L-shaped sofa, having arranged ourselves so that we wouldn’t poke one and other with our feet.
I got to see Prux a little more at Shadowlane, but that was a particularly busy party for me so I didn’t get to spend as much time with friends as I would have liked. We chatted lots after it, though, and I was really excited to see her during this party. We planned to spend the Wednesday before the party fully started together, and Prux obviously gave careful thought to what we should do together for the most adorable, girly fun possible. Unfortunately, Paul and I didn’t end up getting into Chicago until about 4:30 or something, so we weren’t able to do as much adventuring as we would have liked. I was still one of the most excited girls in the whole world when I saw Prux pull up to meet us at the airport! I couldn’t stop hopping up and down. It was exciting to introduce her and Paul: I love it when the people that I adore finally get to meet each other.
We had to do a couple of errands before going to the hotel, and Prux and I chatted happily while we did them. I had forgotten several important things when packing (as is always the way with me). One of these was a coat– it had been in the 70’s when I left Los Angeles on Wednesday morning, so I left my coat sitting on the chair in my study. I was sorely missing that in Chicago as the wind whipped around. Prux kept giving me cuddles whenever we were outside to keep me warm. 😀 Another thing I had forgotten was a stuffed animal. When we stopped at the grocery store for other supplies, we noticed a shelf full of stuffed toys. I asked Paul if I could get one.
“Of course,” he responded. “You’ll need something to clutch desperately while I’m beating you.” My tummy felt funny when he said this, but Prux helped me pick out an adorable pink panda to be my newest companion. I named her Penelope.
After errands were done, we went to dinner, where Prux and I had nearly excessive cuddles and I managed to get ketchup in my hair. Then we went to the hotel and got checked in. Here, Prux gave me a present: one of the sweetest ones I’ve ever gotten!
It was a “bag of sunshine”: she had assembled a yellow bag full of fun, adorable yellow presents to represent what she said was the “sunshine that I bring into her life.” I couldn’t stop grinning as I unpacked it. Everything was carefully selected, and the whole thing was made more excellent by the fact that yellow is my favorite color!
The bag included a puzzle with cute ducks, and Prux and assembled it together (this was the second time that Prux had done it, because she checked to make sure all the pieces were there before giving it to me, which I think is over-the-top sweet!)
After that, I had to take a bath because I was super gross from traveling and had ketchup in my hair. We chatted while I was bathing, and SheldonFT texted to see if he could come say hi to Prux. Soon a small group of spankos had assembled in the living room area of our room while I sat naked in the bath. Paul had gone down to the lobby and got to meet the handful of friends who were in the room when he came back, then he came to talk to me where I was sitting in the bathtub. He instructed me to turn over in the bath so my bottom was up and he gave me my first few swats of the party, scolding me for making such a mess in the restaurant. It started out playful and tender, but then I decided to suddenly drop down so that my bottom was submerged. He wasn’t expecting it, and the next spank made an enormous splash, getting water all over him. The rest of the spanking was much more brisk after that!
Once I had finished in the bath, I came out and got into pajamas and saw Sheldon, Naughty Freckles and LilAngelWings. The group of us chatted until it got a bit late, and then everyone returned to their rooms. I had to say goodnight to Prux, since she wasn’t staying in the hotel that night. I gave her the biggest hug ever and a million thank-you’s for her sweetness. I’m so grateful to have such a wonderful, loving friend. After our hugs time was finished, she shyly and adorably asked Paul if she could hug him, too, which was of course very acceptable indeed!
Once she was gone, though, the evening got slightly more serious. I had done something (personal) I shouldn’t have earlier in the day, and I knew that I was going to be punished for it before going to bed. Paul instructed me to sit on the bed and wait for him while he went downstairs to smoke. I sat on the bed cuddling Penelope and being very still and quiet, my heart racing. I wasn’t sure what exactly was going to happen, but I knew that I needed to be punished for what I had done, and I felt a sense of serenity in the knowledge that my correction was inevitable. After what felt like approximately eight years of waiting, Paul came back and sat down next to me on the bed. He scolded me for my behavior earlier in the day and reminded me why I needed to be punished for it. His voice was gentle the entire time, and his touch sweet. “I thought about it and I’ve decided that I’m not going to cane you for this,” he told me. “It’s the start of a party weekend and I’m partly responsible for what happened this morning. That wouldn’t be fair.” I let out a little sigh, as I had been fairly confident that was what was coming. “Instead I’m going to strap you.” Oh. Well, fuck. “I know you think that’s worse,” he acknowledged.
When other people say “strapping” they could be referring to a spanking given with any of a number of leather implements, some wide, some narrow, some light and delicious and others bitey and cruel. In my household it only means one thing, though: the tawse. I’m sitting alone in my bedroom writing this, and I still blushed and shuddered to type that word. Mila and I have taken to calling it “the other thing” (with “the first thing” meaning the cane). No other implement has ever focused my mind so much. I’m not entirely sure where my extreme, obsessive love/(but mostly)hate relationship with this implement came from. Part of it comes from the fact that it appeared in stories and historical things that I read and in films which I saw during my pre-spanking fantasy period. Part of it comes from the fact that early on in our dynamic, Paul sent me a very detailed email about how intended to use this particular implement on me and how it was going to feel. I received this message at a time when I wasn’t really playing, and certainly not in the way I wanted to be, and it became a seed that grew into a fantastic tree of delightful and terrifying fantasies. Then there’s a film from Nimue’s World entitled “I’ve Seen You” that I’ve been a bit obsessed with in which Paul plays a wonderfully creepy character who beats Nimue rather mercilessly with said implement. This film is dark, but in reality, totally consensual and I find it very, very hot. Then, of course, there’s the reality of the thing. “The other thing” hurts, to me, in a way nothing else does. Hot, pinching, biting, swelling, firey hurt. I think it has a 100% “made Alex cry” rating still. Owwwwww.
To return from my tangent, I sat on the bed wringing my hands at this announcement. I seriously considered begging for a caning instead, but I maintained my composure, as I knew I had messed up and I knew I needed to be punished. If I had asked for something else and received it, even if it had been severe I would have felt like I got away with something. It wouldn’t have put me in the headspace that I needed to be in. So I just looked down at the ground and was quiet and obedient. Besides, he had approached this as an alternative to a caning and mentioned that I “think” it’s worse, which could have seemed patronizing but wasn’t. To me, it suggested that it wasn’t intended to be (this time).
First there was a warmup, which happened OTK and was very short and made me pretty sore itself. I had tears forming behind my eyes before the proper punishment even started. The proper punishment arrived soon, though, and I was ordered over the end of the bed and it was announced that I’d be getting eight: the rounded-up version of half my usual punishment. The first stroke landed and I wailed and started to cry, although I recognized that he wasn’t doing it quite as hard as he usually did. On the second stroke I dared to look over my shoulder and saw that, indeed, he wasn’t swinging with the ferocity that he usually had. This didn’t stop it from hurting terribly, but it was more manageable. I couldn’t help but cry at each stroke, though, especially when I focused on the careless thing which I had done earlier in the day. I let the pain focus me on my desire to be a good girl, and I cried out my frustration with myself and my guilt at my earlier behavior. My cries got louder as the number got higher, but soon, it was finished. It wasn’t a severe punishment: a lot of it had been in my head, but I felt much better for it.
It took me several minutes of lying on the bed gasping and clutching Penelope before I managed out my thanks for the punishment, but once I did I was reminded that I’m a good girl and wrapped up in a delightful snuggle. Then it was time for photos and to get ready to actually go to sleep!
Unfortunately for me, I had a hell of a time sleeping throughout the entire party, so at six AM, after having no sleep the night before, I accidentally woke Paul up because I was literally in tears from insomnia. Awww, that’s pathetic. He gave me a sleep aid and cuddled me and stroked my hair and eventually I did fall asleep. I had a big day ahead of me… ♥