This weekend, my vanilla best friend from college came to visit me. I hadn’t seen her in three years, mostly because she moved to England for Graduate School, then I moved to South Dakota, then she got a job on the East Coast after school and we haven’t been in the same general area at all. We’d drifted apart in terms of talking, too, although she was once the person I was closest to. Part of that was having different life experiences. Part of it, on my part, was my involvement in the kink world. “Britney” (name changed) is a vanilla, and I’ve never told her about my involvement in spanking, fetishism, BDSM et cetera.

Recently, I’ve been pretty into telling my vanilla friends what I’m into and what I do. I’ve told four of them this summer, with no negative consequences. It’s become my policy that when I meet new friends, unless there’s an important reason not to tell them, I let them know what I do and, judging by how open I think we’re going to be with each other, what I’m into. With my old friends, I’ve been sharing this when the opportunity arrises. I decided, however, that I was not going to tell Britney, at least not now. Part of it was not wanting to make her uncomfortable, especially not when we were finally reconnecting. The other reason is a little strange and complicated, and it involves a story I haven’t told here before. It’s a little weird. I feel strange even putting it up.

This story takes place when I was nineteen, about a year after I got spanked by SF for the first time (which was kept entirely secret from everyone else in my life at that point). Britney and I had known each other for a full year at this point, and had become the best of friends, moving into the category of being chosen family. We’re both really ridiculous people. We like to do silly things and laugh a lot. We were attending a small, close-knit, liberal arts college where there was definitely no “Greek” scene. At the start of our Sophomore year, we moved into an apartment on campus together, and we talked about how awesome it would be if we founded our own Greek House (we used this non-gendered language because the whole experience was loosely based on the Greek Houses in The Sims 2: University). We talked about what this would entail and the whole thing seemed pretty ridiculous. When we had parties, it involved about six people sitting around drinking vodka and coke and eating popcorn while playing Katamari Damacy or watching anime DVDs that we got in the mail via Netflix. We certainly weren’t hosting wild house parties or anything like that, and we weren’t “popular” at our school. I pointed all this out to Britney.

“If we had a Greek House, what would we do in it? Wear togas around the living room?”

Then, she came up with the following suggestion. I want to point out that this was her idea, not mine: “We should get a paddle and hit each other with it to see who is the toughest!”

I obviously agreed to this plan.

I ended up being the one to order the paddle off of the internet. It was massive and thick, and kind of cheap. It was unfinished, and not something I’d ever use for spanking these days. I felt a mixture of excitement and embarrassment to own this. It felt incredibly unreal to me that Britney had suggested that we buy it.

Because Britney felt no embarrassment about the paddling, she invited about three other people to come over one night. We ordered a pizza and drank a little. Then, Britney decided that the paddling needed to be as ritualized as possible, so she got out a bunch of candles and turned on the “scary” music that plays in Firefly when they first encounter the Reavers. She then decided that whoever was giving the paddling needed to be held blameless if anyone got mad about it, so they would have their identity protected by wearing an executioner’s hood (this was all ridiculous since we were obviously all going to be aware of who it was, but she said it was “symbolic”). She made this hood by taking an extra pillow case from her old sheet set and cutting two eye holes in it. The pillow case was lavender with green and white stripes. We all thought this the best thing ever and laughed uncontrollably.

Then it was time for the actual paddling to happen. Britney wasn’t sure of the logistics, so I causally suggested that the best way to do it would be to have whoever was going to be paddled bend over the back of a dining chair. We agreed to do all the paddling over jeans for “safety” (and because I was too embarrassed to suggest otherwise!)
As was always the way when I was engaging in spanking play with friends (like when childhood friends wanted to play house, for example) I ended up doing the Topping first, because I knew the most about spanking and I wanted it to be “right.” Britney bent over and I took a swing. It collided with her admittedly very attractive, jeans covered bottom with a crack.

Realistically, a bunch of kids in their late teens engaging in underage drinking who have no supervision or training of any kind should not have been swinging such a big and heavy implement. Fortunately, I hit her in the right place: I’d watched Michael Masterson do this on the internet enough times to kind of know what I was doing. Britney gasped audibly, but didn’t tap out. So I gave her another swat, a little harder.
“Holy crap,” she said. “This actually really hurts!”
“Do you want more?” I asked, glad that being female meant that there was no directly visible evidence of my arousal.
“Yeah,” she said, “give it to me.”
So I did. She took five swats before calling mercy.

Then it was my turn. At this point in my life, I’d never been spanked in any position but OTK, and never by anyone but SF. I was still in state of derealization that my roommate was into this idea. But she was! She was standing behind me wearing a pillow case on her head and holding a great big paddle. Part of me wanted to crack up, but another part of me was very into it. A smaller part was intimidated by what it was going to feel like. Still, I figured she wouldn’t hit as hard as SF. I was the only person there who actually knew that she could take it. I braced myself, just in case.

The first swat was incredibly disappointing.
“Is that it?” escaped my lips. It was a test of strength, so it wasn’t entirely inappropriate that I’d be complaining about the lack of force behind her blow. She tried again. “Ok, I felt that one!” I admitted, although it still mostly just felt like an impact and didn’t carry any pain along with it. The third and forth ones continued to step it up, but still didn’t really do anything. Then, when she got the fifth swat, she figured out how to actually swing.

“Oh!” I squeaked out, pushed up to my toes by the heavy thud and the burning sting that followed.

“Are you done?” she asked. I shook my head. She gave me another similarly strong swat. Then another. Then another. I knew that I couldn’t physically resist, since that was against the rules of the game, and my focus on quiet submission and projecting an air of nonchalance had put me into a headspace where I was flooded with endorphins. I could have let her paddle me all day, but after the tenth swat I “admitted defeat:” it wasn’t going to be okay for me to like this TOO much!

We went on to each paddle another of our friends. The third friend decided after watching that she didn’t really want to participate. The friend who I spanked took about 3 swats. The friend Brit spanked took 4, I think. I won this contest by a landslide, and everyone was impressed with how tough I was. The swats were hard enough that the next day, I had bruises. I did not take a photo: it was years before I first took a photo of my post-spanking bottom.

We went on to “play this game” a couple of times throughout the school year, but I would never bring it up out of a fear of sounding too excited about the spanking, and eventually Brit stopped mentioning it, either. Brit went to study abroad the next year, and my social group drastically changed as this was when I met Rafa and Zeki. I did not introduce the ritual of testing our friends’ toughness by paddling to my new group of friends, and instead left the paddle hidden at my mom’s house. My mom eventually found it and donated it to Salvation Army for reasons that never made sense to me.

The fact that this interaction took place left me in a weird place when I thought about whether or not I should tell Britney about my spanking fetish the other day. On the one hand, she had singlehandedly come up with this complicated plan for us to spank each other when we were teenagers. It seemed plausible to me that she was also a spanko, although realistically, I don’t know if anyone who was actually into spanking would be brave enough to suggest this to a group of friends. I know I would have never been the one to bring this idea up: I was just happy to run with it once she did!

On the other hand, Britney didn’t know that when we were “playing this game” she was actually indulging my fetish. Telling her that I’m into spanking would be, essentially, admitting that she had, unknowingly, interacted with me in a way that was much more significant and intimate to me than she had known it to be. Nowadays, I would never let anyone spank me without them knowing full well what it meant to me. It feels in a certain way that I violated her consent by not telling her, even though she was the one who initiated the whole thing. I feel some level of guilt about the whole experience, like I shouldn’t have let it happen. If I had all my current self understanding and knowledge of how consent works, I definitely would have felt the need to disclose my interest before participating. But I didn’t back then.  At the same time, I was just a kid, too, and no one actually got hurt by it. It was far less of a bad idea than some of the other stuff that we got up to back then, like climbing across the roof of the dorms or sneaking into construction sites at night to screw around. Still, this experience left me thinking that it wasn’t going to be right to tell Britney about this stuff.

The fact that I had decided that I wasn’t going to tell her meant that I had to vanilla-ify my house. My house had never needed to pass for a place that wasn’t kinky before, and it took a lot of work to make it so. There were implements tucked away in weird places, sex toys that I think are okay to keep in public view, lotion in the bathroom with “spanked!” on the label, “The Cupboard of Awful” where most of the meanest implements are stored in the kitchen, stacks of Kitchen Sink Spanking DVDs on my dresser, vintage spanking magazines on the coffee table and more. I had to take down my “Good Girl List” which describes all the things I need to do to behave myself properly and stay out of trouble, and I had to take down my calendar, since it was chock full of references to shoots, sessions and spanking parties. Some of my birthday cards had direct references to age play: they had to be taken down. All my school uniforms, cheerleading uniforms, girl scout uniforms and nurses uniforms are supposed to be kept in the “wardrobe closet” in the study, but I found pieces of them in easily visible spots and had to move them. Then I realized that I had to take down anything which made reference to the scene name of someone whose real name she knew: specifically me (since although Alex is my real first name, I have a very different surname legally). I had to change the backgrounds of my computer and phone, take anything spanking related off my desktop and clear my browser history.

Eventually, Brit showed up and the coast was clear. It was strange to see her again after three years, but like we always do, we got talking and things quickly began to flow naturally. Brit is very into not talking about work, mostly because she thinks her own job is boring, so I didn’t have to give too many details to my cover story. This worked out well for me.

We went to the beach and took a long walk, wading in the ocean the whole time. During this, the subject turned to porn. Britney mentioned being interested in the idea of porn made by and for women, as well as porn which emphasizes “real sex” and mentioned Make Love not Porn and Bright Desire as sites that she enjoyed. I told her that I was familiar with these site and thought they were great. She then said “I don’t like any porn where people are rough with each other or where someone gets hurt, even if they give their enthusiastic consent. I just find it gross. It makes me sick.”
I came as close as I would come to telling her: I said “I find some of that stuff hot.” She shrugged.
“Let’s not talk too much about it, or else I’ll get too impassioned,” she said.

We stayed up late that night, talking until once again, my voice started to die (I lost my voice at TASSP in June and it still is a little weak: if I talk too much it starts to fade and I’m not good at not talking!) We bought a cake and made some cocktails. Despite her not knowing a big part of my life, I felt very close to her again by the end of the night. When it got late, we both slept in my bed, and as I fantasized before going to sleep like I always do, it felt exhilaratingly naughty to be thinking these thoughts in vanilla company.  The next day, we went to brunch before she had to go home, and then had to say goodbye.

All day, I’ve been thinking about whether or not there’s anything wrong with keeping something like from someone you’re close to. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay, at least for now. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I don’t think I’d lose her as a friend over it at this point, but I do think it would make things weird and awkward for a while, which I don’t want. But if she ever asks to play spanking games again… she’s gonna have to know!

Whew! The past week or so has been a whirlwind!
I just got back from my second spanking party, Chicago Crimson Moon, a few days ago, and I’m currently in Los Angeles.

I left Sioux Falls for Chicago on Thursday of last week. I hadn’t been feeling great for a few days leading up to it, and I felt so lousy in the morning that I almost didn’t want to go to the party, but I rallied and thought about all the fun and excitement waiting for me and I made it to the airport. The flight from Sioux Falls to Chicago was incredibly easy, and before I knew it, I was at the hotel. The excitement picked up for me when I got to meet Betty Crocker, with whom I’ve talked online quite a bit. We then ran into Morgan, and he let us hang out in his suite while he went on airport runs. From the pre-party time, Morgan’s suite was full of epic win, since Betty and I were hungry and he already had it stocked with snacks. I then got cleaned up and got into hanging out with people as they showed up.

Soon, a group of friends had assembled. My good friend, Missbehavin Megan was kind enough to put my hair into french braids for me. I’m not able to do anything even remotely fancy with my hair, and it was very cute indeed, so I was quite pleased with this. I also really enjoy having my hair played with, and having it styled gives me the same kind of “nice” feeling.

Yay, braids!

Later, I watched TNSpanker unpack his implement bag. He’s found some amazing pieces at antique stores, which kind of blows my mind. I’ve never found anything spanking related at an antique store, although I did get the famous Trout Paddle and a very vicious spagetti measuring device (I’d take a photo, but I’m not at home as I write this, and I have very few implements in my traveling bag with me and that’s not one of them) from the thrift store. Still, there’s nothing impressive about Trout compared to a vintage cat-‘o-nine! I guess Tennessee is just a great place to buy spanking stuff, or something! Then, having that wonderful sense of self preservation which I am so known for, I made it known to TNS that I’d never been spanked with a Jokari paddle, and he was ever so kind as to do that for me. I don’t know why a Jokari would be worse than other sorts of wooden paddles, but it seemed that way to me. It could be partially a mind-game: the whole collective entity of spanko bottoms are being subjected to mind-games about various implements all the time, because there’s this general idea that certain things suck, so we psyche ourselves up for them to deliver on their expected hurt and so they do.

None the less, the Jokari was rated as “I’m glad that we don’t own one of these” and my spanking with it was mercifully short compared to what it could have been, although certainly long enough that I really felt it.

A little later, my group of friends headed to dinner at a restaurant right near the hotel where the party was held. We had a very good meal, although the waitress declined to sing to Megan, despite the fact that I told her that it was her birthday, which is just bad form, in my opinion. It was her birthday(ish)! They should have brought her a cupcake and sang loudly to her. But the food was quite good, and the margarita which I was talked into getting was most enjoyable. When the waitress was taking care of us near the end of the meal, one of the members of the party commented that some noise sounded like “whipping.”

“Oh!” the waitress exclaimed, “it’s probably coming from the hotel over there. They’re having a whipping party this weekend!”

“Oh, really?” we all asked, without anyone giving it away that we WERE the “whipping party.”

“Yeah, I had another table earlier where they were TOTALLY OBSESSED with spanking!” she told us. We just laughed and joked about how unusual that was, although many significant glances were exchanged. As I got up to leave, she noticed that I had on a plaid skirt and added “You’d fit right in with that school girl skirt!” as I headed for the door. This made me blush quite furiously indeed.

I’m pretty sure that it was after dinner that I met up with James and Korey, an awesome couple who I had met very briefly at TASSP and who were amazing enough to let me and Zoey share their room. I really got to know them over the course of the weekend and had some fun conversations with them. They’re pretty much winners. They gave me my room key and let me get my stuff moved from Megan’s room to the place where I was going to be staying.

After that, it was time for the new member orientation, which I attended, since this was my first Crimson Moon party. At this event, I got to meet a lovely girl whose screen name is Whenshewasgood, who I spent lots of the party hanging out with, and her equally lovely boyfriend. Just like I found a group of younger people at TASSP, I was excited by the amount of young, freshfaced spankos were in attendance at CCM. There were actually people who were just eighteen years old exactly. The fact that there were also people in their late 60’s (or perhaps even 70’s, I’m not sure) in attendance at this party made the whole thing seem very special to me: there were literally people from all walks of life, all ages, backgrounds and levels of experience coming together because we are, as the vanilla waitress so perfectly put it, totally obsessed with spanking. I loved the feeling of being a part of something.

Pretty much immediately after the orientation, Mike, one of the organizers of Crimson Moon, took me into one of the little booths that were set up for semi-public play and gave me a spanking. It was one of those nice, long lasting hand-spankings, and although I whimpered and squirmed quite a bit, I really enjoyed it. We planned to get together for a longer scene later, but because we were both quite busy people, that never came to fruition. There’s always October for that, and I have no complaints regarding the scene that we did have! There really is nothing in the world like an OTK hand-spanking. It left me feeling warm and snuggly.

Even later that evening, there was a Naughty School Girl Party, which was similar to the event from TASSP. I participated in this one quite a bit more than last time, since I knew more people in the event and it was less enormous. I hadn’t really planned ahead for ways to be bratty in order to gain the teachers’ attentions, and I didn’t have any “bratting equipment” so to speak, but I made do: my primary method of doing this involved selling out other girls for their bratting, which resulted in them receiving spankings as well as me getting corrected for being a tattletale. This was most fun, especially because it was so far removed from my day-to-day character. I later adopted a second technique, which involved making fun of Angel (littleanglewings). She was one of the “prefects,” and I told her that she only got her position because her (scene) father, Yoni, was one of the teachers. She spanked me for questioning the authenticity of her post and its deservedness, which was a lot of fun. She’s a great spanker, which sort of surprised me, seeing as she’s kind of a small and diminutive girl. I didn’t learn my lesson, though, because I then made fun of her for being adopted (something which one really only can get away with in a situation such as this one: in the real world, that would be tremendously mean and I wouldn’t do such a thing).


I also ended up accusing Sarah Gregory of being inappropriate as a prefect, as well: something to do with her being too sexy for school, I think, and I got spanked by her for the first time. That was also a lot of fun: it’s always exciting to finally be spanked by someone after having been aware of them for a long time. Finally, at the end of the party, we all lined up to get spanked by each of the teachers. I stole Ten’s idea from TASSP and positioned myself at the very end of the line, so that the Tops would all be tired out by the time they got there. This didn’t really work: Miss Chris and Yoni, especially, really gave me smacks that I felt! We took lots of photos during and after this event, but I haven’t gotten any of them from Sarah yet, so I’ll be posting those at a later. In the meanwhile, here are the pictures that I took of myself whilst getting ready, because I’m like that:

White panties are the best for spanking!

After this event, I hung out in the various party suites until the end of the night, doing the usual spanking party things: getting spanked, talking to friends and being kinda ridiculous. I started to bond with some people, and had a wonderful sense of being cared about and looked after when at one point I started to feel overwhelmed by being at a party all by myself, but a friend took me aside and made sure that I was alright. I honestly don’t remember anything else which happened on the first night. I know that Mila and Zoey all showed up eventually, and that Ten and Drlectr did not: they were delayed a day, much to my dismay because I had been waiting to pounce them. All in all, the first night was just great, and this was mostly driven by how wonderful all the people who were in attendance were. Sure, there were people that I missed: first and foremost, I would have loved it if Malignus could have been there with me, and I missed Heather a lot, and I consistently tried to figure out where Pandora’s room was, which didn’t work because the answer to that question was “in England.” Still, I was able to just focus on how freaking great it was to be there with the people who were there, to make new friendships with new people and strengthen the older ones, and to enjoy being myself among people who appreciate me for what I am.

More soon: I’m not going to promise that I’ll update tomorrow, as I’m presently in Los Angeles and I’m a very busy girl while I’m here. I’ll do it ASAP!
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Before I get into this post, there are a few things I need to address.

First of all, I’ve been a very bad girl when it comes to blogging the past few months. There’s nothing less attractive than a half effort. I’ve had an awful lot going on: a series of unfortunate events, some health struggles, different hours at work than I was used to, and the fact that Malignus and I have begun to launch a new business. I’ve been dedicating a lot of time to other things. That said, my blog is very important to me, and I intend to return to updating regularly.

Secondly, I know that you all want to hear about TASSP. I want to tell you about it, too! Unfortunately, I’m saving that post until I receive a few photos, and I have something else that I want to address briefly before that.

I left TASSP on Sunday. I arrived in Omaha, and then Malignus and I drove back to Sioux Falls and went to bed around 4 the next morning. That afternoon, I got up and went to the airport to fly to NYC to visit my family of origin in New Jersey and then go into the city for some shooting and visiting friends. During the time that I was in Sioux Falls, I basically dumped all my crap from Texas out and onto the floor of the spare room and then repacked it with appropriate family attire.

I don’t enjoy visiting with my family, especially after my oldest brother died last winter. That brother was the part of the family that I connected with. I value my other brother, but we don’t share the same kind of closeness. My mother herself has never been emotionally well in my lifetime, and she’s caused me a great many difficulties in my lifetime. I don’t believe that going into those details here would be appropriate, but know you this: things have been more often bad than good between us.

Yesterday, I had a rough day. Last time that I was here, my brother’s death was still a present topic. We were at his funeral. This time, it was as if he really never existed to everyone else, while I was hyper aware of all the things that reminded me of him. Despite my acceptance of his death, I caught myself longing for him; the feeling of my body cut up by want inside. My mother ragged on me for small things over and over again, she invaded my privacy, she was critical of my body (this is her favorite hobby. She was a professional dancer and I did not inherit that build, and she takes every chance she gets to remind me of this). It kinda sucked. Then, things got serious.

While I was in the bath, my mother went through my suitcase to find any laundry that might be there (so she said) and, while at it, happened upon a stray cane that had been left in the bag. It’s half length and not very noticeable. She wasn’t entirely sure what it could be for, however, so she looked up the brand, found photos of me on the brand’s site and panicked. She was in hysterics, telling me that she wanted to have me committed to a mental hospital because I’m a danger to myself.

I felt very similarly to the way I did when I first found out that my brother was near death: I’d always known on some level that this moment was going to come, but I sure as hell didn’t expect it when I woke up that morning. On many levels, I was prepared for this. I’ve always been detached and I don’t actually NEED anything from her. My familiar connection is more based on filial piety and social constructs at this point. These things didn’t stop me from calling Malignus in tears as soon as I ran out of the house.

I ended up going to New York that night, to stay with PeachyKeane and Scotchgrove. They’ve been extremely welcoming and gracious to me. I explained to the doctor that I am in sound health and that my mother is simply not accepting the choices made by an adult and that was the end of that. I posted about what happened to fetlife tonight, and I got a wonderful outpouring of kind words. That’s really the reason for this post more than anything else: I want to thank everyone who posted or messaged me with their support. It reinforced the lesson that I needed the most at this moment:

The scene is my family. When I grow, it loves me for it. When I fail at things, it pushes me back up to try again. When I’m strange, it’s stranger. When I’m afraid, it’s safe. When I need love, there’s love for me. When I need understanding, there are many who have gone through what I have.

As an entity, you’re all I could ever ask for, and I love you.

I’m also forever grateful for the people who make up my D/s list. The people I’ve grown close to are truly beautiful people. I realized when my mother was in hysterics that there is nothing in the world that matters more to me than the people I know from the scene (especially now that my brother, my closest family member is gone). I’m a very lucky girl to have such wonderful people in my life.

I’m not happy with the way things have gone with this incident (between my mom and I) and I don’t think that it’s over yet. But I’m okay despite it. When I was a girl, I was terrified that I’d be found out and put away for what I do (or, at the time, what I wanted to do). Now, those threats don’t really scare me because I’m an adult, and I know that I can and do take care of myself. If anything, this is rather freeing. I have confidence in myself and even less to fear.
And I have you guys. And that rocks.

TASSP post will happen as soon as I get some pictures from a few people! Keep your eyes open! It’ll include lots of amazing adventures including me, Malignus, Pandora Blake, Ten Amorette, Amelia Jane Rutherford, Heather Michaels, Christy Cutie, Shay Elizabeth and lots more awesome people! There’s even a puppy! Spankings and a puppy! What could be better?!

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Sex is pretty much the one topic that I don’t post about. Why not? Because I don’t mix spanking and sex, and I feel like a lame-o posting about something that doesn’t have anything to do with the purpose of this blog. I know a few people who successfully write off-topic posts that are very enjoyable, but I don’t know that I’ve reached the point where I’m good enough to pull that off.

Still, sex has made itself relevant to the conversation recently. I’ll explain how in a moment. First, some background.

*I’m polyamorous. All my relationships are open.
*I’m a pansexual. A person’s genital configuration and gender identity aren’t a factor in whether or not I am attracted to them. Somehow, this does not make it easier for me to get laid in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
*My boyfriend/Dominant/primary Top/HoH/favorite person, Malignus, is an asexual. This means that he is not sexually attracted to anyone. We’re romantically involved. We don’t have sex with each other. We don’t talk about sex. I’m pretty sure he’s never seen me entirely naked (except in photos on the internetz). Because of my strict wiring against mixing sex and spanking, this makes for the ideal relationship of the sort that we have.
*I don’t want to have sex with Malignus. At all. Ever. The fact that we have no sexual interest in one and other is a point of huge comfort for both of us. I get really grossed out when people imply that we’re doing it.
*I am in two other romantic relationships, both with sexual components. My boyfriend is on the West Coast and my girlfriend is on the East Coast. I have not seen either since I left California.
*Compared to other people interested in sex, I have a pretty low sex drive. Compared to my spank drive, I have like, no sex drive. I’d be pretty happy with having sex once every week or two.
*I have not had sex with another person in four months.

Four months got to be a bit much for me, and sex got to be on my brain again. I decided to start looking into finding a sexual partner. This has proved extremely challenging.

Here’s the thing: I want to date outside of the BDSM community here, for two reasons. First of all, I’m really lame and vanilla in bed. I do not like to have sex that hurts, even a little bit. If someone smacks my ass during sex, well, they’ve ruined it. Any accouterments of “the scene” (even dumb, sex store versions of them) just don’t belong with sex for me. Sorrryyyyyy! The second reason is drama. The scene here is my primary social circle. Sex between friends can lead to drama. It is my goal to avoid that at all costs.

Due to the second reason that I’ve listed, I don’t want to date people that I work with. Unfortunately, that leaves me with no other people that I know. So, I did what I did every time I’ve moved to a new city: I started a page on okcupid. In New York and Los Angeles, that quickly produced matches in the 90 percent range with interesting, educated people. I uploaded a quick couple of cell phone photos and started to fill out my page.

See the watermark? I left that there to prove I’m really on a dating site!

My page here was kind of like my fetlife profile, only without mention of spanking and way more pretentious/geeky. I’m sure you’re wondering how both those things are possible. I’m not linking to my vanilla identity (even if it doesn’t include my real name at all) here, so you’ll have to use your imaginations. I then answered 75 of the “match questions” in hopes of making the things that are important to me clear.

The site didn’t fail to disappoint me: within 20 minutes of completing this, I got a message from a guy who seemed to be on the opposite side of the fence from me on every issue possible, including things like religion, politics, evolution and birth control. The message simply read “your sexy.” I’ve yet to find any person on there who seems to share any of my actual interests, besides an interest in wanting to have genital contact with another person. How hard is it to find someone who likes Foucault, Terrance Malick, The Mountain Goats, homemade bread or pandas?! I’m not saying I want them all, just one!

The extreme lack of eligible mates in the vanilla dating pool leads me to the main problem, and the reason that I brought the s-word up in the first place. How the hell am I going to find a person outside of the scene who is going to be comfortable with my lifestyle? There’s no way that I can hide it from them. On any given day, I’ve got bruises on my bottom. Furthermore, why would I want to be involved with someone with whom I cannot share this very base part of me? The problem is with finding someone who is willing to accept what I do without wanting to do it with me.

I guess, at the end of the day, I can’t look too hard. My current plan is to consider all my options and not limit myself so much, and be less afraid and more open about who I am with people that I meet. The idea of being more “out” has been pretty appealing to me once I got past the point where I was ashamed of myself as a spanko.

I know that a lot of people don’t have the same sort of arrangement as I do in terms of separating sexual partners and spanking partners, but still: how has dating worked for you, as a spanko? Did your current partner know about your spanko-nature when they got involved with you? How did you bring it up?

Well, talking about sex was awkward. I blushed. The best thing to do when things are awkward is to show the internet your boobs, right?

Oh. That’s not it? Well, it made sense to me!

Today’s Valentine’s day. Both Malignus and I have to work, but we’ll be doing something special earlier in the day. It will probably involve A) romance and B) spanking. Win-win. Expect a more spanking-heavy post tomorrow. 😀

Among all my other endeavors, I recently began working in retail. One would imagine that working in retail would have nothing to do with the subject of this blog, aside from the fact that the store in which I’m employed sells wooden spoons, rubber spatulas, hairbrushes, bath brushes and decorative bundles of bamboo rods. Originally, I felt slightly embarrassed whenever someone purchased one of these items, and I was much more uncomfortable if they came through the line to buy one of those things and nothing else, but it wasn’t noteworthy. Let’s face it: I’ve got spanking on the brain all the time, and any indicator that a stranger knows what I’m thinking about makes me feel paranoid and terrified, so these little discomforts were no different than my daily life has been for as long as I can remember. There was one awkward incident where a woman came into the line with two spoons and asked me which one I thought was “sturdier,” and that was particularly awkward for me because I could give a very thorough answer indeed if I had wanted to, but I figured that was as bad as things would ever become there.

One day in the middle of December we selected names for our Secret Santas and I thought nothing of it, besides the fact that I am generally not particularly good at gift giving, especially when it comes to strangers. The first Friday arrived and I dropped off my gift in the break room. During my lunch, later, I found a package marked “ALEX” sitting on the table there and, while several of my coworkers watched, I opened it up.

It was a rubber spatula. 

Now, several people to whom I’ve recounted this story have responded that there’s nothing abnormal about giving someone a spatula, but you have to admit that it’s a very weird gift, especially when there was nothing else with it. If it was part of a baking related set, or if any of my coworkers at the time were aware of the fact that I was fond of domesticity then it might have been acceptable. It could conceivably have just been a totally random gift. I guess it does have a nice green color.

It didn’t matter what the giver’s intention was. I turned bright red, despite my best efforts to play it off. For my entire life, I’ve been paranoid that people look at me and can tell that I’m a spanko, and this seemed like some kind of terribly cruel evidence that this is the case. I hid the spatula in my locker for about a week before I felt brave enough to bring it home, and when I did, I threw it in the pile of implements in the bedroom because I couldn’t imagine myself using it for cooking. It has yet to see any kind of use. 

I would have greatly enjoyed if this was the end of my work related spanking stories, but alas, this is not the case. About a week before I went away for the holidays, I received a particularly hard spanking. I had a large and extremely tender bruise on the lower part of my bottom on the right side and on the top of my right thigh. Perhaps my least favorite thing about this particular job is the fact that I have to wear pants while working (which is the subject of a whole other post entirely) and said pants are extremely uncomfortable against a sore bottom. The day after this spanking, I was walking through work and trying to pretend that every step I took didn’t feel like someone was tightly grabbing my bruises and rubbing them with sandpaper. While doing this, I ran into my favorite coworker. He’s a bit older than I am, physically attractive, educated, witty, clever and amusingly bossy towards me. I’ve harbored fantasies that the rubber spatula came from him because he’s secretly a spanko, too, but I also know that my amazing luck for meeting awesome spankos in vanilla life isn’t going to last forever and that’s probably not the case.

This particular day, my coworker asked me to do him a favor which, being the polite and helpful girl I am at all times, I sarcastically refused and instead stuck my tongue out at him. I was, however, not expecting what happened next. My coworker gripped me by the shoulders, spun me around and gave me a playful but firm swat on the backside. By sadistic luck, he hit me directly on my bruise and I let out a yelp.

I knew that I had technically been sexually harassed, and I was hugely embarrassed by the fact that it happened, but on some level, I was rather pleased about it. As long as no one had seen, I saw no reason why it should ever be brought up again, since it clearly did me no harm and was meant in good fun.

Unfortunately again, someone did see. A coworker reported it, and the two of us got called into the main office and scolded about sexual harassment and how I should have reported it straight away and how “spanking is not appropriate for the work place.” I nearly died.

Because this story involves me, however, it gets worse. The whole thing was not a particularly private ordeal. Several people knew about what happened, it turns out, and they all talked to their friends and soon I overheard someone saying “Alex? You know? The girl who got spanked?” when referring to me.

That’s a very accurate nickname for me. Alex-the-girl-who-got-spanked. Except it isn’t so much in the past tense most of the time.

So now, when I’m working there, my coworkers make spanking related jokes to me whenever they can.
“Get spanked recently, Alex?”
“Having trouble sitting today?”
“Better do what you’re told so you don’t get spanked again!”

They have no idea how true these statements are. Unless they’re reading right now, that is. 0_0

For my entire Spanko Life, I’ve kept my vanilla friends entirely in the dark with regard to my activities. Every once in a while, I mentioned to someone that I was slightly kinky, or sometimes I knew way more information about a subject than people felt I should, but unless someone else spoke first about their involvement in the kink community (or I found out some other way), I kept it to myself. I met a number of spankos in the vanilla world, but only because they dropped the first hint.
One night, shortly before I left to go visit my Dominant, Malignus, for the second time, I had a number of my friends over for a few drinks. I went to bed fairly early, and after I had, one of my female, vanilla friends opened up my computer to check something. In the past, I’d let my friends do this, but I generally checked and made sure that things were closed first. 
Unfortunately, in this case, things were not closed. It was open to my fetlife profile. She’s generally a pretty shy girl, and I would have expected her to feel embarrassed and then close out of the page, but since she’d had a few drinks, she read everything. Then she looked at my photos. Then she looked at Malignus’ page. Then she read some group posts that I’d contributed to. I guess she found it very, very interesting. 
The next day, she woke up feeling extremely guilty for having violated my privacy that way. Her reaction was adorable: she knew, due to her snooping, that I was leaving for a visit that would involve a considerable amount of spanking. So she went to the drug store and bought me some supplies that she thought I might need, as a way of showing me that she supported me and didn’t judge me for my deviant activities. It was maybe the cutest thing that ever happened. I didn’t begrudge her too much for snooping: after all, I only ever entered Spankingland in the first place because of engaging in a similar behavior (but that’s a story for another day). 

This was her “I accept you” gift bag’s contents 🙂 

The things she got me came in handy, by the way. I used up pretty much all of the First Aid Kit in the first couple of weeks I had it, and the hairbrush, while plastic, is ridiculously stingy and tear-inducing. The tears were then dried up with tissues. Finally, no spanko can ever have too many little things of lotion to carry around.

While I was pleasantly surprised by my friend’s adorable reaction to knowing about my private life, it didn’t make me expect that others would react the same way. I’ve heard horrible stories about what happened when people were outed to their families, and I do, from time to time, worry that such a thing might happen. At the same time, I’ve grown more comfortable with the idea of sharing the fact that this part of my life exists with a few of my vanilla friends. 
The night before my first spanking modeling shoot, I was very, very excited. I was signed into Facebook and talking to a few of my guy friends. All three were people I met in my teens and had known for a number of years. None of them, like most of the people in my vanilla life, knew that I was a spanko. I believe that all three of them suspected that I was involved in kink in some way or another, but I had never actually told them anything. I was jittery with excitement and wanted to talk about my shoot, so I decided to let them know. They were good, open minded friends. I felt safe with it. 
All three responded with a total lack of surprise. One confessed that he had seen my skirt flip up to show bruises once when we were at the mall during college. Another told me that he was fond of some light BDSM play himself, and a few days later, he made a fetlife account and friended me. The third told me that he’d been long curious about play with D/s themes and if he ever had the chance, he’d love to explore that side of things with me. I was pretty shocked by my 100 % success rate. Everyone I had “come out” to had basically responded with “Awesome!” 
The other night, I started a conversation about my kink life with one of my long-distance partners. I met her in college and I love her very, very much. I’d never spoken with her about my spanking life very much, though. I was a little scared to: it’s scarier for me when I have a closer relationship with the person I’m confiding in, because if she *did* recoil in horror (which was extremely improbable, but still possible) I had much more to lose. She was very supportive of me, and told me that she had been going to munches and wanted to learn about being a domme. 
I don’t expect this will always be the way, but it does make me feel more comfortable for the future. It also begs the question: is everyone I know secretly at least a little kinky? Am I just attracted to becoming friends with people with a taste for a less than vanilla existence? Do I just have damn good luck? 
My experience with sharing this part of myself with vanilla friends has been really positive. It reinforces to me just how wonderful the people in my life are: the spankos, the kinksters and the vanillas alike. I’m very happy to know the people I do. 
Have any of you shared your kinky side with vanillas in your life? How did they respond? Do you prefer to tell as many people as possible, or to keep it entirely private? 

Oh, Hai!


Los Angeles, California, United States

First and foremost, I’m a girl who loves being spanked. It’s at the very center of my being. I’m also a professional spanking model, which means I get to do what I love for my job. I’m twenty six years old, and currently located in Los Angeles when I’m not traveling around on my adventures. My vanilla interests include poetry, film history, academia, Pokemon, indie music, baby animals, baking and cooking, collecting vintage clothes and lots of cuddling.

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