I’m posting this eleven days late. This potential “didn’t post to my blog as I should” punishment is probably growing. I’m going to take a moment to talk about the phenomenon of me not posting very often. In 2013, I rarely blogged as often as I wanted to, and my posts often had more than a month of lag between the event and the write-up. This has been a constant source of frustration for me, as I would like to be able to sit down and write and then post things. There are a couple of reasons why this became a trend. The first is that in 2013, I was away from home 66 percent of the year, and it wasn’t until I moved into my new house here in Los Angeles that I was ever home for more than two weeks straight without traveling. I have a hard time blogging when I’m on the road, as I often am either very busy with shoots or trying to squeeze in as much socializing as is possible. Because I was never home for very long, though, this meant that it became impossible for me to get caught up on things, which lead to me feeling frustrated and disappointed in myself, which actually isn’t a useful emotional place for me to be in and accomplish things.
The second reason is because there were parts of this year which were very difficult for me. It was the epitome of a transition period. I firmly believe that when it comes to putting things out there on the internet, if you don’t have anything nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all. During these times of stress and instability (or the depression that I fell into when Malignus first broke up with me, for example) it was hard for me to have anything worth putting on the internet to say.
The final reason why blogging hasn’t happened as much is because I’m sometimes very naughty and play too much Pokemon instead of doing my writing like a good girl. This is the reason why I need beatings. ^_^!
The other circumstances will hopefully be mitigated in the coming year (and obviously my naughtiness will be totally and entirely corrected and never be a problem again, right? That’s how spanking works? :P). I intend to spend much more time close to home. I love everything about where I live: my house, my cats, my local friends, the people I get to work with, the places I get to go, the proximity to Disneyland and, of course, being at home (most of the time) with someone I love. I’ll still travel quite a bit, especially to national parties, and I’ll likely continue to visit Denver and Dallas as regularly as I can manage (they’re filled with some favorite friends, producers and clients!) but in general, the travel craziness will be toned down.
So, with this out of the way, it’s time to remember some fun things which happened in 2013! Onward! [Please note that some of these stories contain ellipses. These are real ellipses, showing that text has been omitted in between those words to keep each story brief and readable, not punk ass “I dunno how to finish a thought” type ellipses. Kthnx.
One of my fonder memories from January was visiting Amoni in Denver, where I did my second shoot for Real Spankings. I described the final scene I filmed that day like this:
When we were discussing these last two sets, it was up to me whether I wanted to do them with my jeans on or not. For the first one, I decided to do it on the bare because cane lines always look great, and because at this point in my life, it feels kind of unnatural to get spanked over clothing since baring is nearly always a part of my spanking ritual, unless it’s something extremely impromptu or it’s part of a mind-game. Shortly after we finished filming the caning sequence, I went to get changed to do the paddling one. I had originally said that I would take the paddle swats over my jeans, but I changed my mind at the last minute. My butt was sore, sure, but I wasn’t dying. I was really enjoying getting spanked, and I really wanted to feel the spanking I’d be getting that day.
After the interview, when it came time to actually take my jeans down, I felt a little apprehensive about my decision. It’s funny how the closer a spanking gets, the scarier it becomes. But I reminded myself that this was all my choice and I wanted it to be hard and got them down.
It was hard.
I got ten swats with the paddle, and each of them made me rise up on my toes, cry out, and contort my face in pain. After the seventh, I asked for a moment to catch my breath. I took a second to just breathe as Danny gently rubbed my bottom. I felt safe and secure, and relaxed myself again, stuck my bottom back out and took the final three swats.
When it was done, I had quite a mix of adrenaline and endorphins and a very sore bottom. That, my friends, is the ideal way to end a work day. 🙂
In January I also spent a lot of time with a girl who I was involved with at the time (and still care greatly about) called Panda, I was in Sioux Falls, and it snowed. I hate the snow if I have to deal with it for more than about fifteen minutes. In retrospect, January was very much like the year before it, although the rest of 2013 was really not.
In February, I was a busy girl. I spent the first couple of weeks in Sioux Falls, but then took off for the start of a whirlwind adventure which changed my life forever! I left to go to Los Angeles, where I visited Rafa, Zeki, Christy Cutie and Maddy Marks, went to parties, did shoots, worked on projects and ate delicious food. From LA, I flew to Las Vegas for the private party now called “50 Freaks,” where I had a remarkable time and got spanked quite a bit! On the last day of the party, Robert Wolf and Lily Starr took me to the airport, where I departed for my month long adventure in England. I had one of my favorite scenes of all time while I was in Las Vegas, with Richard Windsor. We built the energy for the scene up over the course of months, with internet bratting and scolding voice recordings which left me a (happily!) quivering mess. Here’s the meat of that story:
Richard had positioned me over a barstool … I was given a piece of paper which read “MR. WINDSOR IS NOT A LITTLE BITCH” which I was to recite after each stroke. … The first stroke made me gasp and whimper. I had trouble getting my voice in order to speak to read the sentence. I think I may have actually moved my mouth without any sound coming out, like trying to bring myself to wake someone sleeping in a dark room when my mind believes that it is necessary to be entirely quiet.
“Mr. Windsor is not a little bitch,” I managed. The cane landed again, in a hot, stinging stroke. Again, I repeated the sentence. On the third stroke, I had a moment of fear when I realized that I was only a quarter of the way done with the caning. Just like the hallway had before, twelve strokes seemed impossibly long. The scene had gotten into some deep part of my brain and had twisted my senses of time and distance. It felt like a very long time before the next stroke.Sometimes, I would rush the sentence out quickly. Others, I would whimper and wail a bit, catch my breath, move my feet and then whisper. At one point, I apologized, but I was firmly reminded that it was not the time for that. When I finally read the sentence for the last time and received my final stroke, I felt like I had been in the scene for ages, when in reality, I can’t imagine that it took more than ten minutes between the first and last stroke. Each one had been memorable, though: they cut, they bit, they slashed, they buzzed and itched and chewed at me.
March was one of the most adventure filled months of my whole little life. I arrived in England on the first and returned the the US on the 30th. I had a disastrous start to my trip, but things quickly picked up and became delightful. After spending less than a day in country, I flew to Holland, where I did two days of shooting for Spanked in Uniform and Real Life Spanking. From there, I flew back to England where I was collected by Paul to go to location where we were joined by John Osborne (“The Chief”) for another two days of shooting: one for Northern Spanking and one for Triple A Spanking. This was the second time I ever met Paul, having shot for him briefly at Shadowlane the year before. I was stressed out beyond belief during my first few days of travel, and I was deeply afraid to be in places where I knew no one, and where I felt fundamentally alone. I don’t have an explanation for this, and it this isn’t something that I retroactively wrote onto my memory because I remember thinking it to be very strange at the time, but as soon as I saw Paul waiting for me from across the baggage claim, I felt secure. It turns out that wasn’t just a fleeting feeling and wasn’t just my relief at seeing a face that I recognized. It’s a feeling of security which, very soon after this, became a permanent part of my life.
We spent two days doing our shoots. I got spanked by Paul for the first time, and several times after that: despite my somewhat frazzled state at the time, I was very aware of just how well we connected, even when our scenes were for films. When shooting was done, due to difficulties (I was originally meant to stay with SF while in England, but his infant daughter passed away during my first week in the country which changed things a great deal) I ended up staying with Paul for two days, during which time we played as much as possible and pretty much spent the rest of the time cuddling. It was magical.
From there, I went to stay with Pandora Blake for over a week, where we had lots of fun spanking adventures, deep conversations and much more cuddling. I also spent about half the visit following around and harassing her cat, Fatface. Observe this passage describing my feelings:
Fatface is a big, beautiful cat. She’s fluffy and mostly white, and most of the time, she gives zero fucks about what those weird humans are doing around her. The characteristics that make me like her more than the average cat (which I already like a lot) are as follows:
1) Fluffiness. 2) Passivity. 3) Facial expressions suggesting dissatisfaction with human company. 4) Adorable cat food (or “biscuits” as they are referred to in England) seeking behavior. 5) Fat. 6) Everything.
Yep, I’m still obsessed with Fatface: enough that I considered her enough of a highlight of my year to include in this post. Anyway, In addition to doing two more days of shooting during this portion of my visit (one for Dreams of Spanking and one for Nimue’s World) I spent a lot of time playing off-camera with Pandora:
That evening, Pandora and I somehow ended up in a competition to see who could finish posting to their blog first, which aided me quite a bit in actually getting this stuff done. Pandora, however, finished her post just slightly before I did. “I beat you to posting!” she said, “Now, I’m going to beat you in real life!”
The setting of additional rules to a competition after it’s already been completed like that is tremendously unfair. When I have a certain kind of energy with someone, though, I find unfairness delightful…
Pandora offered me a warmup, which I gladly accepted, and then put me over her lap and spanked me with her hand. It had been a long time since I was spanked by Pandora, and I was glad it was happening again. I don’t feel entirely submissive towards her, so to speak, but I do feel passive towards her in play, and I enjoy her receiving her Toppiness, and I was very comfortable with her occupying Boss-space for the moment … It felt sort of invigorating and exciting to be getting spanked by her. Once I was thoroughly warm, she directed me up onto her sofa for a whacking with a fairly big, leather paddle. I cuddled up to her stuffed dog, Fred, who is known as “Drop Dog” due to his ability to drop onto your head. “Comfort her well, Drop Dog!” Pandora instructed, “she’s going to need it!” (I liked that quite a bit, too). She gave me a spanking that was neither severe nor serious, but still hurt enough, and put me in a giggly, happy, nicely spanked mood.
Our visit was wonderful, I loved both of the shoots that we did, and I was happy to get to meet some additional awesome people like Nimue Allen, Thomas Cameron and D. When visiting time was over, Paul came to get me and I went and stayed with him for the rest of my visit. This time was laid back and extremely enjoyable. I did another day’s shooting for Northern Spanking and, just before I had to leave to go back, a day for Bars and Stripes.
Leaving to go back to America was incredibly hard for me. I had, sort of unbeknownst to me, fallen into a depression in Sioux Falls over the months leading up to my trip, and while I had been in England I realized this, because I felt like myself for the first time in a long time. I felt excitable and happy and vibrant. I didn’t want that feeling to be over. I had also grown very attached to Paul, and the thought of leaving him made my heart hurt. But all things end, and my trip ended just as the month did.
April was primarily spent trying to adapt back to my life at home in Sioux Falls, although I did steal away to NYC to visit friends and do a few shoots, and to Atlantic City for Boardwalk Badness Weekend. Boardwalk was an action-packed tour-de-force of spanking, including my first time getting spanked on a boat. Another significant “first” happened at that party: my first hand tawsing experience:
Mr. Allen instructed me regarding how to position my hands, then he said:
“This is going to hurt very, very much. Don’t move your hand.”
There’s nothing like telling me that something is going to hurt to get into my head. Such a simple thing, usually the honest truth, but I have almost no defense against it. It melts my toughness. My heart pounded and pounded. Then Mr. Allen raised the tawse and brought it down on my palm.
Then I exploded.
Or so I felt. I at least screamed a little. I had never, ever, ever felt something that hurt so much. Not the longest, hardest caning in my history. Not a heavy ebony hairbrush on my thighs. Not being smacked on the tender areas near the backs of my knees. Nothing hurt like this. It was nauseating. It was disorienting. I don’t remember moving, but I discovered that I had my hand clutched between my thighs, because it was the sort of pain that I simply had to apply pressure to. There was no other choice. Holy. Fuck. I trembled.
“Other hand,” Mr. Allen instructed. I looked up at him pleadingly, but he had a stern and serious face. That confidence and his unbending nature comforted me, pacifying me enough to stand up straight again and put my other hand out. I forced it as far away from my body as I could, looking away to avert my eyes from what was going to happen.
That’s what happened. I crumbled, sort of bent in half, rocking and rubbing my aching, burning, terribly sore hands together. I knew that there was a crowd of people around, that we were playing in a suite, but I wasn’t aware of anything around me. Just the hurting. It was all that my mind could process. I didn’t even feel entirely control of the parts of my body that I normally am, unsure of how to breathe or move my muscles.
“I can’t take two more,” I told Mr. Allen. This was huge. I’m horribly proud. It’s rare for me to beg, to protest, or try to get out of something. I am, after all, the kind of girl who intentionally gets herself into situations like this. But here, I felt that I had met my match. This hurt too much. I wasn’t tough enough for two more. I just couldn’t. There was no way. I shook my head, tears soaking down my face and gathering on my sweater.
“You can and you will,” Mr. Allen told me. “You’re going to. Put your hand out.”
I wanted to protest more. I couldn’t. I might die. I might *actually* explode. My hands might come off. I was entirely beyond rationality. Instead, I felt comforted by his statement, and my panic started to fade. I felt the tranquility of being out of control, feelings of comfort in the inevitable that Malignus had taught me to embrace long ago. I could do this. I could.
I put my first hand out again. It already felt about twice it’s usual size. I closed my eyes and tried to relax into what was going to happen. I shrieked anyway, quickly devolving into sobs again.
Somehow, I got my other hand up without having to be coaxed, with Mr. Allen praised me for before bringing the tawse down the last time. This one felt like the worst one, both my hands swollen and red and sore, my world illuminated with a white strike of agony. I fell to my knees with both hands clutched between my thighs, trying to press the hurt out of them, trying to squeeze them back to feeling their normal size. I was concerned for a moment that I might throw up, but I recovered remarkably quickly as a powerful, almighty rush of endorphins came and took me over. Mr. Allen went away for a moment and returned with a bowl of ice. I buried my hands in it, and I felt infinitely better.
“You took that well,” he said as he comforted me. I laughed.
“No, I really didn’t.” I think it was the least well I had ever taken anything.
“Well, you took it. That’s something,” he said with a supportive smile.
This post is too long to begin with, so I shall break it into thirds. Next third coming tomorrow. ♥
While the action of this story takes place in Vegas, it begins in a very different time and place.
It was one of those evenings where I was alone in my apartment in South Dakota and Malignus was working. Both my professional work and my chores were completed for the evening, so I was sitting on the computer chatting to people and using Fetlife.
Recently, my darling twinsie, ellee, had been to a party in New York where she had met and played with Richard Windsor. From the very onset of my experience on Fetlife, Richard had been one of my favorite people. I liked his sense of humor, his ability to start a good discussion and his attitude towards play. I had been aware of him and his blog for longer than I’d been active in the virtual community, and I was delighted by how lovely he seemed online. We had met for the first time during Shadowlane, but unfortunately I was super overbooked at that party and didn’t get to see half of the people that I wanted to. It also seemed to me that Rich was the kind of person who preferred pre-negotiated play over the “Hey, I’m here! Wanna spank me for the next ten minutes before I leave again?” sort of thing, which is really what most of my play at Shadowlane ended up being. After having our rather short meeting, though, my desire to actually get to scene with him had intensified, and listening to ellee talk about how amazing her experience had been brought this back to the front of my mind.
I wanted to engage, but more specifically, I wanted to show my interest in a bantery, fun, spank-flirty way. This is something that I’m not good at. My preference is to be a good girl, sometimes even doing so excessively to the point of being annoying to others around me. I know that in my regular home life, I’m never going to be intentionally bratty, but I also know that there’s a time and an audience for it and that it can be incredibly entertaining. The idea of having fun first and then getting spanked later sounded rather perfect for me. So I decided to wait for a window of opportunity and then try my hand at it.
It just so happened that the night in question, The Spanking World: Good vs. Bad was having a field day, and I happily joined in, joking and bantering. A few days/weeks before that, Rich had started a topic in the group, but when no one replied for a while, he took it down. He explained this in a post elsewhere in the group: “No one responded for 43 minutes, so I figured no one was going to and deleted it.” (this is paraphrased. I cannot find the actual post anymore). This lead to lots of teasing and hilarity Later that evening, I posted a new set of self-taken photos:
I was pretty pleased with the photo set, but despite the fact that lots of people were active on Fetlife, I wasn’t getting any comments. I then made the following post to the famous “Pet Peeves” thread:
To which I responded:
Rich then commented on my photo, and I waited for exactly 43 minutes before replying to his comment. I literally sat next to my computer with a timer and waited. I was on a roll, and I was quite sure that everyone thought I was hilarious.
Really, it should have stopped there, but I was drunk with the glory of my new-found ability to draw spankings to myself in a hilarious manner, so I kept referring to the 43 minute rule and calling Richard a little bitch whenever I got the chance, and it probably got legitimately annoying. This was something that I originally really didn’t want: I just wanted it to be funny and then for me to get beaten over it, and there were signs that I was actually becoming irritating (maybe even offensive?) later on, so I decided to lay low until the Vegas party, which I successfully did. My biggest fear in this whole out of character, behavior experiment was that I would actually hurt someone’s feelings, create a nuisance or make someone think less of me, and I did worry that I had pushed things too far at the end.
Still, whenever anyone asked me about the story, I was happy to tell the entire thing, and I was quite pleased with myself. Rich had made it quite clear to me what the consequences for my actions were to be by sending me a series of voice recordings that were specifically designed to make my heart pound and my stomach flutter, I think. I was going to get 12 strokes of the cane, and after each stroke, I would need to repeat my most inappropriate phrase before the next. I let myself get enjoyably worked up over this. The anticipation built and built, and when we arrived at the party, Richard told me that I would be getting my caning on Sunday so that I got the maximum time to wait and think about things.
I ended up having to discuss practical concerns, which are my least favorite things when dealing with spanking play. I want to be able to just do whatever the fuck that I want, whenever I want. That’s the way the world works, right? Unfortunately, this is not always the case. I was leaving from Vegas to go to England and would be filming in just a few days after arriving, so I couldn’t leave the party all beaten and battered looking. This was also a concern in my play with YS: I had to ask him not to mark me during our last scene together, even though I really wanted him to. I wanted YS to spank me super hard and long and to leave me feeling sore and looking bruised so that I would continue to be enveloped in the safety and love of the time that we’d spent together. As it was, I wasn’t able to get that, exactly, although all of our play together over the weekend left me with very positive memories, and the combination of everyone’s efforts meant that I was very sore while flying to England. Anyway, I was worried that I would be in bad condition by Sunday and would not be able to be caned, and on Saturday night I was feeling a bit tired and emotionally stretched thin and I wasn’t going to be able to put my heart into the scene if we did it then. Richard and I talked about all this, and we decided that I would be fine to get caned on Sunday before I had to leave. I set aside more time than we would probably actually need for it, just in case, and to avoid rushing. I think because of my temporary anti-marking agenda I may not have been caned as hard as I possibly could have, but because this was our first real scene together, I was somewhat alright with that.
On Sunday morning I took my time getting up and getting dressed and then spent some final private time focusing on my D/s dynamic with YS. Then it was time to go to “Strick”Dave’s spanking court. When we left our room to talk down to the main suite, YS held his hand out for me to take and ended up feeling like I was in middle school or something. It was the sweetest gesture, and it made me feel a giddy, girly feeling inside. When we got to court, it had already started so we sort of snuck into the back. Court is always hilarious, and I have huge respect for (and probably a bit of a spanko-crush on) Dave: he seems to be knowledgable about everything, always quick to respond, makes me laugh lots and has just flat out impressive spanking skills. I was involved in one court case: in which Whooperine charged me with making fun of him for eating chicken wings with a fork. I did not even bother trying to defend myself against this, because several people had seen me say this, so I just argued that what I said wasn’t so much mockery as it was fact. I may have been found guilty and gotten ten strokes, but I think that I sufficiently was able to make court a venue for further Whooperine-teasing, which meant that everything was right with the world. Throughout all these proceedings, though, I had a funny feeling in my tummy. Richard had handed me a note when I first came in that instructed me to go to my room after court and stand in the corner and wait for him. He was dressed sharply and had a very serious look on his face all the way through the court proceedings. His unbudging nature made me get even more worked up over what was about to happen. I had the classic mixture of terror and excitement. It was an excellent state of being.
As soon as I finished my case, I told Richard that I was going to my room then, in the interest of time (or maybe he told me to? I don’t remember this part too well). What I do remember well is the walk down the hallway towards my suite. I had just walked this path with YS less than hour ago, practically skipping gleefully and then, it had seemed extremely short. Now, it stretched on and on in front of me. It was dizzyingly long! I found myself pausing to wipe my hands off on my skirt, because they were sweating. “How big is this hotel?” I wondered to myself. “I feel like I’ve been walking for an hour.”
I finally arrived in the room and I propped the door open so that Richard would be able to enter when he came in. I then went pretty directly into the corner and began to wait. I could hear my blood rushing around inside my ears and hear my heart beating. I was very detached from my regular self and simply existing in this moment. My world was a world where I’d been a badly behaved girl and I was going to be soundly, severely punished for it. Thump, Thump, Thump went my heart.
Finally, Richard appeared and called me out of the corner. I’m sure my face must have been pretty pathetic: I was literally quivering. His manner in addressing me was stern and unbending and it made all my other feelings even more intense. I didn’t protest against anything, just quietly submitted to getting into position for the cane. When he tested it in the air, I gasped at just the sound. From the time that the caning began until maybe ten minutes afterwards, I was in a liminal space on the verge of crying. Richard had said that he expected that I may cry, so I knew that was acceptable. For whatever reason, though, I never actually did: I think that I had too much nervous energy, too much anticipation and adrenaline to actually get to tears. Besides, I don’t think that I’ve ever cried the first time that someone gave me a serious spanking (with the exception of my very first spanking). I think it’s sort of an usual space for me, and my brain doesn’t know which part of the mixed set of emotions to respond to.
Richard had positioned me over a barstool, in basically the same position that YS had used, but while yesterday’s spanking had felt warm and close, this one felt austere and formal. It pushed a whole different (and much rarer to be pushed) set of buttons for. I was given a piece of paper which read “MR. WINDSOR IS NOT A LITTLE BITCH” which I was to recite after each stroke (this paper is currently tucked in my wallet behind my credit cards, which I suppose could prove awkward at some point, but I don’t want to lose it). The first stroke made me gasp and whimper. I had trouble getting my voice in order to speak to read the sentence. I think I may have actually moved my mouth without any sound coming out, like trying to bring myself to wake someone sleeping in a dark room when my mind believes that it is necessary to be entirely quiet.
“Mr. Windsor is not a little bitch,” I managed. The cane landed again, in a hot, stinging stroke. Again, I repeated the sentence. On the third stroke, I had a moment of fear when I realized that I was only a quarter of the way done with the caning. Just like the hallway had before, twelve strokes seemed impossibly long. The scene had gotten into some deep part of my brain and had twisted my senses of time and distance. It felt like a very long time before the next stroke.
Sometimes, I would rush the sentence out quickly. Others, I would whimper and wail a bit, catch my breath, move my feet and then whisper. At one point, I apologized, but I was firmly reminded that it was not the time for that. When I finally read the sentence for the last time and received my final stroke, I felt like I had been in the scene for ages, when in reality, I can’t imagine that it took more than ten minutes between the first and last stroke. Each one had been memorable, though: they cut, they bit, they slashed, they buzzed and itched and chewed at me. When it was done, I was suffering from “No bones syndrome” and sort of poured myself onto the couch in a snuggling position with Richard.
We talked a bit and I felt very relieved and relaxed. The whole thing had been such an intense and powerful situation that it took me a little bit to sort of “come to” from it, but when I did, I was very happy with the whole experience. We hugged and everything was forgiven.
I feel very certain that I will never call Richard a little bitch ever, ever again. ♥
edited for gramatical improvement.
Friday night was a very good night. Everyone enjoyed each other’s company, and for the first time ever, I got to go to sleep next to ellee and YS. He slept in the middle, and a few times in the night I woke up and turned over to see him sleeping next to me, only to become so excited about this fact that I found it hard to get back to sleep. While this sounds kind of cute when I retell it, it wasn’t very practical.
As is usual for me, I woke up feeling slow moving and like it would have been very easy to become cranky. It was like, 9:30 in the morning when ellee and YS got out of bed, and I considered trying to just resist the entire morning thing and just keep lying there. I’m not sure if ellee did what she did next intentionally, having assumed that this would be the case based on her twinly abilities, or just because she wanted to, but she turned to YS and said “I know a certain Alex and ellee who did not get bedtime spankings last night.” This was my fault: I had gone to bed earlier than the rest of them which had put a kink in the bedtime spanking routine. YS responded to this the way that any reasonable spanking man would: by giving us wake up spankings instead.
Wake up spankings used to seem like an inhumanly cruel idea to me. When Malignus first suggested them to me as a possibility when I was planning my first visit to his place in South Dakota ages and ages ago, I was originally pretty resistant. If I hate being awake in the morning in the first place, why in the name of Science would I want to find myself getting whacked repeatedly before I had even come to my senses? I agreed to give it a try, though, and found it to be very different than I imagined. See, spankings create adrenaline Adrenaline is the opposite of sleepiness. Spankings also create endorphins. Endorphins are the opposite of grumpiness. I soon discovered that a wake-up spanking was the easiest way for me to transition from sleepytime to the land of the living, and I’m always appreciative when I get them.
YS set ellee and I up side by side and on the bed and spanked us with his hand, giving each of us a few spanks and then moving on to the next adorable, semi-undressed girl that he happened to have in his bed (YS is sometimes referred to as “The Lucky Bastard”). My mood and perkiness improved greatly as the spanking went on, and ellee and I held hands and sort of snuggled while getting spanked as we are known to do. After a bit, YS stopped and went over to some of his luggage.
“What are you doing?” ellee asked.
“I’m looking for some lotion,” YS told her.
“Oh, I have that right here!” she volunteered helpfully. YS turned around and approached us with a London Tanner’s spanking strop.
“I lied. I wasn’t looking for lotion. Lay back down.”
(♥ I love that kind of stuff)
We both got back into position and he continued to spank us with the strap, making us both produce our own distinctive vocalizations. ellee sounds much happier than I do when she gets spanked: she sort of chirps and purrs and makes all sorts of adorable and energetic sounds. I just produce a varying level of gasps, whines, wails and, eventually, sobbing sounds. Just as I don’t fake orgasms, though, I never manufacture these reactions in my personal play. If a spanking doesn’t hurt, I don’t respond vocally. If it does, I generally don’t hold back (although there are situations where some amount of holding back is appropriate). This morning, I was a bit whimpery, and crying out a bit, but still obviously very happy with the strapping I was receiving.
|Post spanking coziness|
Once we’d both been thoroughly spanked, we somehow ended up getting even further undressed for a bit. Then we finally got dressed and went out to get ellee some makeup products which she had forgotten. After that expedition where YS also bought us candy and gave us each the occasional stray swat right in the middle of the mall, which I’m not used to at all and which made me blush ferociously, we ate a delicious breakfast then went to finish getting ready for the day. After I got out of the shower, YS directed me to the ironing board which was set up in the corner of the room. He showed me which shirt he wanted to wear that day and asked me to iron it, and to use the lint roller on it and also the pants that he was going to be wearing. This filled me with submissive bliss, as it was the first time I had ever had a chance to do a service-type task for YS (although I had made him sandwiches and things like that before our D/s dynamic started). I decided that for full effect, I had better do my ironing naked. (Dear Prestigious Women’s College from which I graduated: there, there. It’ll be alright.)
YS was pleased with my work and we both got dressed for the day. I asked YS if he wanted to pick out my panties for the day, which was something that would never have happened in any of my other D/s dynamics, but which felt VERY right in this case. He selected a gray, cotton pair that were cute and matched my outfit well (I actually happen to be wearing them RIGHT NOW). As soon as we finished this, he decided that he was going to spank me with my new hairbrush. He had purchased me a Mason Pearson hairbrush off of my amazon wishlist a little while ago as a thank you gift for being such a good girl (awwwww).
|Some hairbrush related photos which I took for YS when it first arrived.|
I had wanted a Mason-Pearson hairbrush because I had read about them in spanking stories for a long time, and they seemed both classy and mean. They’re plastic, in case anyone doesn’t already know, so I was not entirely sure how much it would actually hurt. I went over YS’s lap again to find out.
It hurt. Specifically, it stung. I could have probably deduced this, since it was a firm but lightweight material. YS was able to get a good rhythm and motion going with it, and my bottom began to be overwhelmed with buzzing, burning, inescapable sting. I put my effort into not resisting, but I made quite a bit of noise. YS wrapped his other arm around my waist while he spanked me, going on and on with no end in sight. It built and built, but because of the nature of the implement, never descended into the gratification of thud, even when he started to give me harder swats. It just stung more. I had wanted to cry during the first spanking that YS had given me the day before, but I was too busy being happy and floaty. This implement was very good for that: it kept me very present and aware, but because of the emotional connection created by having had the implement purchased for me by my Dom, I felt very, very submissive. As both the pain and the submission increased, I started to make sobbing sounds. I didn’t have a full out, proper cry, but I wailed and let go and a few tears came out. YS continued spanking me for however much longer he felt like, and then pulled me up for hugs tiem. It was perfect.
The rest of the day was very nice and it involved lots of fun times with various friends, as well as a few other scenes here and there and a complex and unusual prank involving a burrito which was maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I laughed so hard that tears literally rolled down my face. The most significant thing which occurred during the rest of that day, in my mind, was what I have been referring to when chatting to friends as “The Bear Story.”
Right before we went to pick up YS and ellee, Lily Starr brought me into her room and gave me a present. It was an adorable brown teddy bear with a big, teal bow. As soon as I picked it up, though, I discovered that it was different than other bears. It’s full of lavender and some kind of beans, and it can be put in the microwave to heat it up before cuddling. It’s amazing! It’s also really fun to play with because it’s weighted and kind of heavy. I had a lot of fun swinging it around by it’s various limbs. Lily then gave ellee a matching bear, which made things EVEN MORE PERFECT. Do you know why they make more than one of cute things? It’s EXCLUSIVELY so that ellee and I can have matching ones. Aren’t you glad I’ve explained that? I knew people were probably wondering. 😛
Unfortunately, this bear caused me a little problem. In addition to enjoying swinging it around, I really, really enjoyed whacking my friends with the bear. I know, I know, this is the most childish thing ever, but it was REALLY satisfying and I REALLY couldn’t stop myself. Now, sometime before the party, I had called ellee to talk about a few things and the topic of people who I sometimes want to punch came up. The conversation had gone something like this:
Me: There are people in the world who I really want to punch, but I probably can’t. 🙁
ellee: Oh! YS is here! Let me ask him!
ellee (to her husband): YS? Can Alex punch someone if they’re really horrible?
YS (super stern): No.
YS (loudly, so that I can hear through the phone) Alex, you can’t punch people unless they punch you first or they’re trying to rape you.
Me: Harumph, yes, Sir.
That’s the problem with Doms. They’re always making all these rules that prevent me from punching people in the face, or getting hit by cars, or dying in a fire and they go around making sure that I get proper sleep and take care of myself and don’t get arrested. (Thank you, Malignus and YS! I love you!)
Anyway, it had been clearly established before the party that I was not to non-consensually assault people. Really, this is also basically just common sense, and also part of my rules from Malignus, so there’s no excuse for any of this.
But this bear. It was SO GOOD for whacking your friends with. I had done it a little bit without anyone saying anything, but on Saturday afternoon in Beth/Heather/Missy/Stacey/Jules/possibly more people(?)’s suite, I got to swinging the bear around and hit both ellee and Heather. Heather, being a boss of me, wasn’t going to take any bear-smacking, so she grabbed me by the arm and marched me into a corner. My reaction was instinctual, if not entirely logical.
“YS!” I yelled. “Help! Heather’s being mean to me!” YS gave a response about how he was not going to interfere with other people’s dynamics while I stood there with my face in a kind of oddly smelling curtain. Then, I guess either ellee or Heather explained to him why, exactly, I was standing with my face in a kind of oddly smelling curtain.
“Alex!” he scolded. “Did you hit her with your bear?”
“No,” I said, without any understanding of why that word was coming out of my mouth.
“Are you really going to lie to me about this?” he asked.
“…I meant no, I did do it.”
Even though that made absolutely no sense, YS seemed to accept that answer.
Still, he added, “We’re going to have to have a discussion about this later, I think.” I gave a resigned “Yes, Sir,” and returned my face to the corner.
“Oh no, are you mad?” ellee asked, concerned about me, because ellee is the sweetest friend ever.
“No,” YS, consoled her, “I’m not mad. All this means is that Alex is going to get spanked later, which is the whole reason that we’re at this party.”
The promise of being spanked for it later sent a little shiver down my spine, even though I was in an environment where there was zero risk of not getting spanked, and I remained in the corner until Heather decided to let me out.
I rejoined the party and continued to have a nice time. Then, less than an hour later, I was sitting on the couch with ellee, YS and the same bear. ellee said something silly or teasing, and I responded by sort of tossing the bear at her head.
“She just hit me with her bear!” ellee said with shock.
“Okay,” was all the YS had to say about this. What he had to say wasn’t the important part, though. What he did was stand up, grab me by the wrist and lead me to a bar stool at the front of the room. I felt a surge of nervousness. While I was fully aware as soon as the bear-tossing had occurred that I’d probably be spanked for it, it hadn’t occurred to me that it would be done right there, right then in front of everyone. The offense of throwing around bears wasn’t particularly serious, but this was also the first time that I was getting a chastisement style spanking from YS since our dynamic began. He had given me an #offchartbossing “punishment” spanking during the second cabin party, which I described as this:
When ellee and YS arrived, we exchanged some presents that we had collected for each other, because we’re the kind of besties who get each other cute things. ellee is really good at buying presents. I was overjoyed. In the middle of mini-Christmas, though, YS came into the room with an implement and a semi-serious look on his face. Heather, ellee, YS and -lostkitten had carpooled from the airport together, and they had taken longer than I determined acceptable, so I got a little beyond my bounds and sent a text to Heather scolding YS for getting everyone lost and taking too long. This was about to catch up to me in the form of my first spanking of the party. My sense of self preservation must not have been unpacked yet, though, because when he said “You got a little mouthy there, Alex” I responded with “My mouth was not involved! I was texting!”
Surprisingly, this did not save me, and I got ten firm swats, followed by a very nice hug and more presents. Have I mentioned that YS and ellee are pretty much my favorite people ever to live? Yes. That.
What happened this time was not ten firm swats, followed by a very nice hug and more presents.
YS instructed me to bend over the barstool and he lifted my skirt. Then he asked whose toy bag was on the table. It belonged to StrictDave, and he happily offered the use of his implements. I could hear the distinctive sound of wooden things clattering against each other, to which I have a Pavlovian fear response. I instinctively looked back to see what had been selected.
“Don’t look back,” YS chided. “Just keep your face forward, hold still and be a good girl.”
I did my best to do that. YS wrapped his free arm around my waist and began to spank me harder than he had ever before. The spanking was at a rapid pace and, from what I could gather, was with a wooden implement with a short range and a spanking surface about the size of my fist. It was the kind of hurt that burns and buzzes and very quickly overwhelms me, and I am pretty sure that I made pathetic vocalization for basically the entire thing. I don’t remember YS saying anything to me throughout: no scolding or coaxing, just the constant presence of his other arm. That made me feel very Dominated: it was stable, secure, strong and unyielding. These are all important aspects of Dominance to me, and this non-verbal communication had a potent effect. I soon began to cry and apologize, entirely unaware of the fact that there were people around me. My entire world consisted of me, YS, the barstool I was leaning on, whatever implement he was using and an inescapable, undeniable, constant pain.
The last time that someone attempted to correct me in a public party setting I felt extremely insecure about being observed in such an intimate act, even though it was much less serious and less intimate than this, and I fell into a panicked and upset state and prematurely ended the scene. This time, I was entirely comfortable and entirely unaware of anyone else. It helped that no one interacted with us in a disruptive manner: no suggestions were made, no one announced when I began to cry et cetera. It just happened, and it was perfectly natural. Finally, he finished and wrapped me in a hug. After I regained my calm, I got some ellee hugs as well (apparently her spanking empathy is so strong that she was almost crying watching me, and I assured her that I was not only fine, but I felt very loved and well taken care of).
|Quite soundly spanked.|
YS sat back down on the couch and I climbed onto his lap and put my head on his shoulder. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead.
“You’re a very good girl still,” he assured me, “but no more assault, even in jest.” I melted into him a bit more.
“Yes, Sir,” I answered, my voice hardly above whispering, “thank you for correcting me.” ♥
I later discovered that the implement I was spanked with is an incredibly evil hairbrush which should probably not exist. It’s that big type of hairbrush which is somewhere between a hairbrush and a bath brush and could only possibly make itself useful by making girls cry lots and lots.
Also, this is one of the only times that I’ve told a chastisement story on this blog. I usually consider this to be personal, and often sullied by public sharing but because this one was delivered in a semi-public setting, not over something deeply personal and very important to the narrative of my developing relationship with YS, I’ve decided that I have positive feelings about sharing this. I’ll eventually write a longer post about my feelings towards punishment and the public eye (by which I mean it’s been a draft for approximately 3 months).
So, I realize that everyone has read about a dozen accounts of the party I’m describing in this series of posts already. For the rest of the narrative I’m going to do my best to focus on the things that were of personal significance to me, not just give a running list of what exciting things happened, which is sort of my impulse in this situation. The stories to be contained are things that I would have written about if they happened in another context, and many of them took place behind closed doors so even others who attended the party will be getting the details for the first time, so I hope I don’t bore you too much!
When I left off in my last post, YS and ellee had just arrived and we were about to go pick them up from the airport.
We did just that. Lily, Robert and I got there a little bit earlier than YS and ellee did, though, so we did several “victory laps” around the airport while we waited. We had a nice time of it and just chatted about various things. We all enjoy one and others’ company, so it wasn’t that bad to wait. Finally, I saw them appear on the curb and I hardly even waited for Robert to stop the car before racing out and hugging them. They were obviously a bit tired from their trip, so I *tried* to tone down my excitement a bit, at least until we got to the hotel. Once we got to Joe and Ten’s suite, everyone wanted to see ellee (as they should, for she is brilliant, sweet, clever, a very good girl, funny, loving, adorable and a knock out to look at, and I feel lucky to have such a wonderful girl as a friend) so I tried to sort of hang back and give them a little space. YS was called up to the suite where Beth Eisley and PTL were staying in order to discuss one of Beth’s pieces of mischief (and to say hi, of course) so I kind of paired with Sophie again for a bit.
I was having a lot of feels. I’m a bit embarrassed about them, but they were there and they were relevant. I was simultaneously worked up into a sort of manic state from all the excitement, and worrying that I was being too invasive, and above all else, I was feeling insecure. Parties do that to me sometimes. I worry that people don’t like me as much as I like them, or that I’m shockingly socially awkward despite my best efforts, or I start comparing myself to my friends and peers negatively. I know that all those feelings are pretty stupid and I’ve been very well educated in how to choose to feel secure, to acknowledge the bad stuff and focus on the good and get on with enjoying my life (which I did shortly thereafter). At that moment, I was having a moment. Sophie got me back to an even keel, though. She’s a very good friend.
I felt a little bit sheepish when YS did come back into the main party room, but his response was exactly what I needed. He found me pretty directly and then told ellee: “I want to spank Alex.” I was pretty immediately pacified by this. He lead me off into one of the bedrooms. I think someone else might have been playing on the other bed, but I had mental blinders on and I was aware of no distractions. He sat on the bed and put me over his knee as my heart pounded. Then he gently rubbed my bottom for a little bit as we talked. “This feels so right,” he said, and I agreed enthusiastically. We talked about how much time had passed, and how close we’d been able to grow without actually seeing each other. Then he began to spank me.
Sometimes, when I’m emotional, a spanking has to go on for a bit before it brings me to my baseline and from there it can go upwards. Sometimes, when I’m in a really bad way, all it can do is return me to my center. This wasn’t like that. I felt immediately relieved of my anxiety, and my worries and my awkwardness and I felt my mood begin to elevate, bringing me into a notably good place.
I knew that this was right. That I belonged there. That, in that moment, in that time and place I belonged to him.
I knew that this was real.
I don’t mean that our D/s relationship hadn’t been real before he spanked me, but this additional component brought it to a place that felt significantly different (and yes, better) to me. A lot of my most significant D/s interactions with all of my Bosses Of Me have taken place in a long distance setting. Still, there was something wonderfully right about being there with him, being in position over his knee and receiving a spanking from him. I felt safe and secure. My memories of this have a sort of shiny feeling about them, as if my mind has tagged them as positive and warm.
Eventually, he moved me so that I was just lying on the bed and got up. He started to take his belt off. “This is a new belt,” he told me. “No one has ever been spanked with it before. I just took the label off upstairs.” I felt very special at this news, and I felt a lot of positive apprehension.
While I’ve previously had mixed feelings about leather implements and I’ve gone through periods of time where that was an emotional struggle for me (more on that in another post), I’ve always loved it when YS hit me with a belt. When I first met him, his Fetlife profile image was this:
|It is totally normal for me to have saved this photo to my computer. Hush.|
When I first started in the scene, I used to think that belt-spanking felt a little bit abusive, and I wasn’t at a point where I could kind of delight in that darkness or “own” negative memories. This picture was the first thing that made me question that. It’s just… hot. Domly and manly and perfect. He’s just got the ideal belting energy for whatever reason. To this day, that photo makes my stomach feel a bit fluttery.
From the first time that we met at the first cabin party, I’ve wanted YS to spank me with his belt, and he’s always been happy to oblige me. This moment was no exception. I hugged a pillow and pushed my bottom up to prepare to receive it. My memory does not perceive the spanking as having been particularly hard, but more as being endorphine-y and enjoyable. At one point, he caught me rather firmly across my sit spot and I opened my mouth to whimper or protest, but the sound which came out instead was “Thank you, Sir.”
This is something that Malignus taught me to intentionally say to keep myself focused on submission instead of starting to resist. If I tell myself that I want it, it becomes much easier to take and to take well. In this case, I hadn’t even intended to do it. It just came out because it was the right thing to say.
“Spontaneous thanking. I like that,” YS said with a smile in his voice. It added to the warm and safe feeling that was dominating my brain at the moment.
I don’t remember the scene actually ending. I know that somehow I found myself being cuddled and comforted, and being very pleased with the soreness in my bottom and the fact that YS had put it there.
He told me that I was a sweet girl and stroked my hair a bit, and I responded with a much shyer “Thank you, Sir.”
When we came out, ellee was happy and excited on my behalf, bouncing around with compersion. It made me grin. I knew that the rest of the party was going to be wonderful.
I’m still alive! Safe and sound at Pandora Blake‘s flat in London. I’ve had lots and lots of adventures recently, and little time to sit down and write about them. Fortunately for me, Pandora has kind of Topped me into stopping being distracted and getting some writing done. Huzzah!
I left off on my story about the Vegas trip with the end of Thursday night, and I shall continue from there.
On Friday, I woke up in bed with Joe and Ten, which was a really nice feeling. There was a little more morning snuggling and chatting and then we got to work packing up all the things, because we were switching to a different room that day. A hotel bell hop came to help us move stuff, and we had the following conversation.
Him: Are you guys getting married (referring to me and Joe).
Me: (blushing) No!
Him: Haha! She doesn’t want to marry you!
Obviously, that was too complex of a situation to explain to a stranger at that moment.
Him: So, what ARE you doing?
Joe: We’re just fifty freaky people having a party.
Apparently, later in the day, when others were moving in this same hotel employee asked them if they were some of the “fifty freaks,” which gave rise to a new name for our little gathering.
After helping with move in, I had my only working engagement for the weekend, which went swimmingly. When I finished, I started trying to figure out who was where. This was a little difficult because I didn’t know where anyone’s room was besides Joe and Ten and there was no other central gathering place. It turned out that a lot of my friends were hanging out elsewhere, so I spent a bit of time with Whooperine, and then a bit more with Sophie Grey. Despite the fact that I was having fun, most of my thought process for the day can be summed up this way:
YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight! YS and ellee will be here tonight!
My excitement over seeing them was a little excessive, but I think it was justified. I basically believe that ellee and I have to see each other regularly or else we’ll both die. Twin-drop can be terminal if not treated quickly enough. The time that we spend together is always beyond pleasant and I love having adventures, appreciating cute things, cuddling and getting spanked with her. We have our serious conversations, too, of course, and since we’ve known each other she has remained one of my most trusted confidents and a source of very useful advice.
As I mentioned before, YS and I hadn’t gotten to see each other at all since we began our D/s dynamic in October. We’ve had lots of important conversations and found ways to engage that are really fulfilling and gratifying, but I was really looking forward to having propinquity with him. I was also really looking forward to being spanked by him again, especially now that we have our power dynamic. In fact, I hadn’t been as excited about being spanked by someone since I was en route for my first ever visit with Malignus all that time ago. I spent a lot of the day alternating between bouncing and looking at the time on my phone.
That evening, everyone gathered in Joe and Ten’s new suite, which was just lovely. The facilities were perfect for a group of our size and there were plenty of places available for playing. I got to spend some time chatting with various people who I like, including Lily Starr, Richard Windsor and Erica Scott.
|Lily Starr and I in our adorable dresses 🙂|
Now, as I previously mentioned, I had gotten myself into massive amounts of trouble with Richard and I was feeling very nervous about that (in a positive way). I really wanted to be spanked by him before said trouble, though. This was partially to sort of mentally warm up for the caning I’d be getting later that weekend and partially just because I’ve really liked and admired him for a long time, and that’s what I want from Tops who I like and admire. 😛
I’m still working on making my interest in being spanked by someone known, especially at a party. In general, I don’t like being too bratty. I don’t like to be a bad girl. I do know that the whole “I’m constantly good! Look how good I am!” routine gets old pretty quickly. So, I’ve been trying to find a balance between being humorously bratty with people who I know are comfortable with that without being actually “bad.” Some of my early attempts with this didn’t actually go the way that I would have liked them to, but that simply meant that more work was needed at finding the balance, not that it was time to give up. I decided to try again.
One piece of banter which has been enjoyable on Fetlife was the idea of “The 43 Minute Rule.” This is basically just a bunch of girls teasing Rich because once he posted a new topic to “The Spanking World: Good vs. Bad” but then complained that 43 minutes later, it didn’t have any comments on it, so he took it down. This lead to the idea that 43 minutes was the requisite time frame in which one must respond to anything. I’d been kind of abusing this particular banter, but it was funny, and there was something kind of daring about bringing it up again, because this whole situation is what lead to me getting myself into the trouble that I was waiting to be caned for in the first place.
While talking to Rich, I casually said: “You know, we’ve been at this party for a lot longer than 43 minutes.”
“Are you saying that you want a spanking?” he asked. I smiled a little bit shyly.
“Yes,” I acknowledged. He then took me over to the couch and put me over his lap. He started spanking me first through my dress, which didn’t have too strong of an affect on me, and then through my slip. I was really glad that he noticed that. I like to wear dresses with slips and most people kind of just shove them out of the way along with the dress, but I think that the lifting of the dress and then the slip and then the lowering of the panties can be a really lovely anticipation building mechanism besides giving a kind of nice, retro feeling to a scene. Anyway, the spanking wasn’t too hard, but it was really perfect for what it was. He scolded me while spanking me about how much trouble I was going to be in later, and it made my stomach flutter even more. He also let me wear his hat while he spanked me:
|Thank you, Richard!|
Later that evening, I spent some time talking to both Heather (all references to Heather in this post refer to PTL, Heather Green is not involved in this story) and Mike (spank33) about a roleplaying scene that I was interested in doing. It was mostly between me and Mike, but because he and Heather have a complex and wonderful roleplaying situation already, we decided that ours would sort of set in the same universe as theirs. We talked about what I wanted from it, and what our characters would be. The whole thing was a little bit divergent from my usual spanking scenes in a way that was really refreshing to me. We decided that I would do something to act out and break one of our pre-established rules and that he would then catch me and correct me for it. I discussed with Heather, and she agreed to help me out a bit. I waited a while so it would catch Mike off guard and then I left and went down to the Casino. After a bit, Heather went up to Mike.
“I’m really worried about Alex!” she told him (obviously roleplaying). “She just took off and didn’t say where she was going. She’s not answering my texts. I think she’s gambling!”
Mike and Heather then took off to look for me. I had texted Heather and told her where I was “hiding” so that they could easily find me. Once they had, Heather began to rant about how worried she had been and how irresponsible I was, with Mike directing me upstairs with some quiet but serious sounding scolding (the whole thing was done in a way that was not noticeable or disturbing to vanilla people). Once we got into the elevator, things got a bit more heated and I was basically petulant and entirely non-repentant. When we got back upstairs, he sent Heather to go back to the party but took me to his room for a “serious discussion.” My heart was pounding a bit, but I kept trying to play my character as nonchalant and whining. I even did a little foot stomp when he told me to get over his lap, and I insisted that I hadn’t done anything wrong and that the rules were unfair and stupid. It wasn’t until about halfway through the spanking that I finally let that be broken down and I became repentant and contrite. The scene went really, really well, and we were both happy with it. After we finished, he walked me back to Joe and Ten’s room and once we ended roleplay mode, I happily shared the story with Heather.
Although my usual preferences for spanking remain the same, I’m very glad to have added the ability to enjoy roleplaying to my repertoire of enjoyable spanking atmospheres. I like it because it allows for me to connect with someone on an intense level at that particular moment without having to have a deep relationship. It allows me to get things out of my system which wouldn’t be appropriate in other scenarios (a great use for all those lines that pop into my head but which I swallow down because the situation is serious). It involves lots of creativity and humor, which are always great. And it’s fun. I always enjoy fun.
The evening continued to move on, although at a pace which felt very slow to me due to my excitement. Finally, it was time for us to go pick up ellee and YS from the airport, where the story will continue in my next post. 🙂
I’ve had so many adventures now that I have to push myself to get the posts out before the memories begin to fade. I’ll be doing two kinds of posts while working on this: the “party report” type posts that tell you what happened when and where and at least three “scene stories” that do a more intimate look at a particular spanking and what it meant to me. Stay. Tuned.
That said, I’m currently in Europe, so my posting schedule might be a bit erratic. I’m obviously going to do my best. 🙂
After many exciting adventures in Los Angeles, including spending a great deal of time with Mila Kohl, I got on my plane and headed for Las Vegas. I’ve been there twice before: once with Malignus and Heather Green for tourism purposes and once for Shadowlane. When I arrived, Lily Starr and Robert Wolf were kind enough to pick me up and bring me back to the hotel. I was energetic and apprehensive in a positive way. I had a lot of people that I was looking forward to seeing and I had built anticipation for several scenes. There were people I’d be finally getting to play with, friends I hadn’t seen in a long time and, of course, YS. You may remember that back in October I reported that I had begun a D/s relationship with him. There have been several times since then when I’ve talked a little bit here and there about certain aspects of that dynamic. Still, I hadn’t actually seen him since we began that, and I was really, really looking forward to that. I kept bouncing around the backseat of the car and talking way too quickly. I also felt physically a bit gross, though. Even though my flight was very short, it had a broken air conditioning system and I was seated next to two middle school age boys: not people known for their excellent personal hygiene. I was looking forward to freshening up.
While we were en route to the hotel, we got a call and were asked to go to Dana Kane‘s place to pick up Princess Kelley. We did that, and I was happy to get to see Dana, her wonderful husband and their sweet cat, Noodle for a minute. Hugs all around! I am really hoping that I’ll get to see Dana at some point next month. She’s just one of my favorite people. 🙂
When we arrived at the hotel, we took all my luggage (as seen in the last post) up to Joe and Ten’s suite. I was spending Thursday night with them, and planning on moving in with YS and ellee when they arrived on Friday. Because the room where I was staying was also the party room, I was going to have to see everyone for a moment before I could get showered and changed. We knocked on the door and it was opened… by Richard Windsor.
Now, for those of you who don’t know, I’d basically spent the past month or so being a very badly behaved girl towards him over the internet for the purpose of funsies. The whole thing will require at least one post of it’s own, but it’s the stuff of legend, in my humble opinion. There will be poems and songs for generations. 😛
|Anticipation building via twitter earlier that day|
Over the last couple of days leading up to the party my “being bad is fun!” bubble had popped and I was very contrite and apprehensive towards the chastisement that I knew I’d be receiving, and I felt rather shy around Mr. Windsor when I first arrived. We had about five seconds of friendly, positive interaction, yet it gave me a whole new case of butterflies. I then ran around the room saying hi to everyone. I was pleasantly surprised to see Whooperine there. I had no idea that he was coming, and it was the best news ever. I basically catapulted into his arms and gave him a kiss. At this point, though I had reached a state of sweaty mania and I was running from person to person, hugging and bouncing and being overly energetic and entirely unpresentable looking. My hair was a mess and I had on JEANS (curse the day!) so I gathered up my bathroom stuff and snuck off to get presentable. I intentionally calmed myself down in the shower (doing all the “be here, now” stuff that Malignus has lovingly instilled in me over the years) and felt much better after getting myself cleaned up and put together. I got into a skirt and top and went back to the party. At this point Richard had vacated the room, which I found slightly disappointing as I’d had liked to make sure he didn’t think I was running away from him out of fear or something, but basically everyone else was still there. After a little more talking, I had a new goal: I needed to pop the lid off this spanking thing.
I ended up starting my party play for the weekend with Robert. This was a somewhat unusual choice on my part. There are two factors that go into how hard a person spanks me. The first is a combination of that person’s preference and ability. This is the Top’s side of consent: we can only play as hard as (s)he is able to play and desires to. The second factor is my comfort with that person. The more I know someone, the more comfortable I am with being spanked severely by them. Malignus obviously gets the highest possible score in this system, being both a very mean sadist and one of the loves of my life. Robert is pretty close to the top, though. We’ve developed a great bond over the years and, to put it bluntly, he’s mean as fuck (in a good way). He’s one of the people I’ve played with the hardest, period. So he’s not someone that I usually would consider asking to be nice to me. It’s almost mean to him! “Here, Robert! I’m going to get over your lap and whimper and squirm as you spank me and I DON’T want you to make it all that hard!” is like telling me “Here, Alex! I’m going to give you this cute bunny and I DON’T want you to cuddle it.” The spanking was really nice, though. He clearly restrained himself out of the heart-age. (Note: I am not implying that Robert murderizes every girl he plays with. That’s just our relationship). After that, I sat on his lap and snuggled for a while as I talked to him and Lily. I felt really good: happy, content and surrounded by people I love.
Just a few minutes later, I was over Drlectr’s lap for another spanking. Drlectr is really special to me, and I love being spanked by him. I adore knowing that he’s probably got a grin on his face that he can’t stop while he lays into me, and his lap is one of those where I feel the safest and snuggliest. I think that I also abused my snuggling-on-someone’s-lap-after-a-spanking privileges after that scene, too.
My last play for the night took place when H, Cali Katerina’s husband, decided to catch up with me over this photo:
I stuck this little gem of Christy Cutie, myself and Maddy Marks on Twitter a little while ago with the caption “Sterwood Girls gone wild!” The three of us all shoot for Sternwood Academy, so it seemed like a funny idea since we were all half naked and partying.
“You’re a Sternwood Girl!” H reprimanded me, clearly in roleplay mode. “You should know better than to be running off to wild parties! You’ll disgrace the institution!”
I was then bent over for a good, firm but not too firm paddling until I confessed the errors of my ways.
Everyone knows that I am a very good girl who does not do ridiculous things at parties, anyway.
Yes, I’m sure that’s what the next few posts will prove.