It’s time for me to wrap up my Year in Review with the final few months! Hooray!
September was a funny month. Paul arrived in Los Angeles, and I was overwhelmed with joy at this. Although we were together and I was extremely happy about this fact, our lives were still very much in a transition period. We were staying at Rafa and Zeki’s place and sleeping on a sofa-bed which was not really meant for long-term use as a bed. All of my things remained packed in my car and we were living out of suitcases. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but I was still happy. We were originally going to move into the same building as them, but decided to look into renting houses instead for a bit more privacy and a heightened feeling of domesticity. We found a place and went through all the infinite hassles associated with moving, and spent the rest of the month doing things like finding appliances and furniture and doing approximately a million and ninety eight loads of laundry (since everything smelled like a stuffy car). Finally, by the end of the month, we were basically moved in.
When we first arrived in Los Angeles, our playing was at the minimum, since we were not only staying in someone else’s space, but in a vanilla home. We still did sneak in a couple of scenes, though, including this one, which has been previously unshared:
One day, I was missing Bad Alex quite a bit so I decided to say hi to her. I did this by texting her the message “Suck a dick” because this is the way that Bad Alex and I treat each other.
Bad Alex and I then had some enjoyable banter and chatted a bit. Unbeknownst to me, however, she had sent Paul a carefully worded and very formal Fetlife message letting him know that I had “suggested that she do something very unsanitary” and that she was “concerned” about my status as a good girl if I continued using this sort of language. Anyone who had ever met Bad Alex would roll their eyes and groan at her attempt to make herself sound like the good one in this friendship. Unfortunately, at this point, Paul had never met Bad Alex.
I don’t mean to say that he actually believed that I was being bad, but he certainly wasn’t going to let a perfectly concocted scenario for me to be in (not for serious) trouble pass him by. Here began a very unfair development in my life in which Paul started “believing” whatever Bad Alex told him and conveniently looking in the other direction when she was antagonizing me. Most unfair thing ever. Harrumph!
On this particular afternoon, it just so happened that no one was in the place where we were staying except for the two of us. Admittedly, Bad Alex must have cared very much about me getting punished, since she put careful work into her tattling letter of lies and misrepresentation. Paul kept a straight face while he scolded me about not using such harsh language and treating my friends with more respect than that, then he marched me into the room in which we were staying and retrieved his cane from one of the suitcases. I hadn’t been caned by Paul since June, and my heart was aflutter with anticipation. Even when it’s a play punishment as opposed to real discipline, Paul takes a very serious attitude towards my correction and I felt sheepish and somehow, a bit shy when he instructed me to strip down to my panties and lie over the bed. Being undressed made me feel vulnerable, but it also made me feel more pacified, and I slipped into a comfortably submissive headspace. Where a moment ago, I had just been inches away from a tantrum at how unfair it was to listen to anything that Bad Alex said about me (or really, anything ever), I had given up on my protests and accepted the fact that, “fair” or not, I was going to be caned. First, I got a short but firm spanking to serve as a warmup, and I was shocked by how sensitive my thighs had become. Just a few sharp smacks to them made tears start to roll down my face. This was a good thing. I needed this, and I knew it.
This isn’t to say that I didn’t resist the caning which followed, because I certainly wiggled and cried out and came questionably close to breaking position.The strokes were fairly hard, and I felt the impact deep in my muscles. As I lay still and cried, I felt an enormous sense of relief, though. A lot of stress had accumulated in my life, and there’s nothing which reassures me more than being lovingly beaten. I felt tremendously secure, as painful, fiery reminders of how loved I am lit up my bottom and the backs of my thighs. I had entirely forgotten that I was being “punished” for my rude behavior towards my bad counterpart until all the strokes had been delivered and I was getting my requisite cuddles, when Paul reminded me that I was to take a picture of my welts and send it to her. On a certain level, I probably should have thanked her for facilitating a scene which had left me in such a good place, but I had too much pride for that, and I included many scrunchy faces in my message containing the above photo. But, I suppose I’ll say it here, what the hell. Bad Alex is a very good friend, and just like sometime I need to fall under her bad influence, I also sometimes appreciate all the effort that she puts into seeing me getting properly punished, even if it’s for things I didn’t do. ^_^
October was a very happy month, as it was the first one that we spent fully in our new home. Moving in was mostly done, and I had a chance to explore the neighborhood a bit more. Unfortunately, one day I tried to walk to Target and instead, ended up walking two plus miles in the wrong the direction without any water, on a hot day, and while I was wearing inappropriate footwear for doing miles of walking. I had to call Paul to come rescue me when I realized that my feet were about to bleed, although I knew that I would be in big trouble for my impromptu misadventure. This is what happened after he did:
“Are you mad?” I asked, my voice small and meek.”You’re going to be punished when we get home” was his only response. We drove back in silence. I could do nothing but think about how thoughtless this had been. I’d interrupted Paul’s working. I had entirely failed at taking care of myself. Tears ran down my face, and I sniffled a bit.
As soon as we got in the door, Paul turned to me and said “Go to your room.” I went into our bedroom and flopped on the bed. I didn’t want to stand up. My feet hurt too much. I was hot. I was tired. I was in big, big trouble. I lay there like a lump, doing an activity which really can’t be described as anything but “sulking.” In the seeming eternity (but actually one or two minutes) before Paul came in I could hear him moving around in the kitchen. Then I heard the sound of a cabinet being opened and shut again, and my heart began to pound.
There’s a shallow, white cabinet in the kitchen. It’s separated from the other kitchen cupboards and obviously original to the house, but it’s only about three inches deep. I’m not sure what it was used for, but it’s become the official storage place for some of our meanest implements.
I wanted to mope about the fact that I was about to be seriously corrected, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I knew that I deserved it. Still, my tummy hurt.
Paul finally came into the room holding a cane. I had sort of known that was going to be the end of this story from the moment that I realized that I had messed up so badly, but the reality of the situation was sinking in very quickly.
In addition to feeling upset about how thoughtless my actions were, I had been really focused on worrying that Paul was mad at me for inconveniencing him. Having to stop your work to go rescue a silly girl who got herself into a mess is bound to annoy anyone. But once he began to scold me, I realized that he was much more upset about the fact that something bad could have happened to me. I felt very loved as he lectured me about thinking before I did things and taking care of myself. I could feel how precious I am to him, and how he won’t let any harm come to me, even through my own poor judgement.
Then he ordered me over the bed and began to spank me. While technically a warmup, he started hard and furiously. In my tired, vulnerable state, I pretty instantly started to sob hard, offering absolutely no emotional resistance to the spanking. I needed it. I knew that.
I felt impossibly sore after the warm up, but this was probably mostly because of my mental state at the time. Then Paul ordered me to kneel up on the bed, which I did quickly. I kept my feet off the edge of the bed because they had gotten filthy as I was walking around on the dusty sidewalks in flip flops. Paul noticed this, too, and said “You’ll clean your feet after this,” which I quietly affirmed through my tears. “Get down on your elbows,” he told me, and this made me cry harder, but I did as I was told. This position means only one thing: strokes to the tender area where my thighs and bottom meet. Paul then tapped my bottom with the cane before simply saying “Ten.”
The first stroke startled me into some sort of clarity for a second, although after the initial crack, during that long moment when the pain begins to built and develop, I felt overtaken by hurting and began to cry again. The next two or three were quickly paced– no time for one to finish building before the next and I could make no attempt at processing them. I wailed. After five strokes, he gave me a little break, pressing his hand against the welts in the same motion that I do when a beating is over. The pressure seems to hold the pain in for a moment. I caught my breath, but didn’t slow my sobbing.
The next two strokes were to that aforementioned tender area. I did my best not to yell, but I felt an overpowering warmth: burning, biting, pinching, gnawing heat. The rest of the strokes came in quick succession, and after each one, my cries became louder and more desperate.
It’s a very good thing that we live in a house instead of an apartment. I’m….noisy.
When the whole thing was over, Paul immediately sat down on the bed and pulled me onto his lap, holding me close to him. I wiped tears all over my face in some attempt of cleaning myself up and apologized over and over. He stroked my hair and told me he forgave me.
October also brought Crimson Moon’s Halloween party, which was amazingly fun. There were a lot of extremely fun events, and the party had such a relaxed, drama-free environment. Drlectr and Mama Blue ran a “Detention Room” roleplay, and I loved waiting outside the “office” to be called in to be punished, being scolded and paddled by a very stern Principal Lectr and having Mama Blue witness the entire proceeding! There was also Trick-or-Treating, and Thursday Night, Bad Alex and I had a ton of fun hiding alcoholic drinks in our treat bags as we ran from door to door. The majority of the treats bore stickers, though, and every time you grabbed a stickered treat from the bag that your “friendly” neighborhood Top was offering you got spanked! In the end, we ended up taking Naughty Freckles to CP Court for putting so many damn stickers on the candy. Speaking of Court, Strict Dave gave his usual awesome performance, although the majority of the cases were against Bad Alex. At one point, she flipped someone off while on the stand and Strict Dave gave her “the seven foot strap” for contempt of court. That was quite impressive to watch!
At this party I also got to witness Robert Wolf proposing to Lily Starr, and their “scene marriage” which followed. At the time, Robert and I hadn’t been able to play together in about a year because our party schedules never seemed to line up, but afterwards, I assured him that he had made me cry plenty that weekend! They’re one of my all time favorite couples. It’s so obvious that they have boundless love and respect for one and other, and being around the two of them makes my heart so happy. My face was wet with happy, heartfelt tears by the time Yoni, who officiated the scene marriage, announced that Robert could “now spank the bride”!
I got an ear infection as the party drew to a close, and flying home with it was definitely not fun. I was pretty insistent that it was going to go away on its own and that I did not need medical attention, but eventually, I had to admit that it was one of the more painful things which had ever happened to me and I needed a doctor. Once I had antibiotics and eardrops, I was on the mend, but I was home sick on Halloween night. I was very glad I had gotten my Trick or Treating in beforehand!
November introduced a concept which was obviously fairly new to me: staying home. I spent the entire month in Los Angeles, and the next two weeks, too! This six week “at home” spell made for the longest time that I had been in one place all year, and it was a wonderful feeling. I did lots of sessions, a handful of shoots and Paul and I spent a lot of time working on our new project: Kitchen Sink Spanking. We did a lot of playing off-camera, too, including a very fun roleplay scene one evening which I hadn’t written about before:
One night, Paul and I were hanging out on the sofa hanging out, without any real plans for what we’d be doing with the rest of our evening. I had my planner out, probably because we’d been discussing when I had what going on. I use the same kind of day-planner that I did when I was actually in high school. I learned to organize my life with it very effectively then and I just never bothered to change. If it works, why mess with it? I pointed out to Paul that it had all sorts of handy information in the back: state capitols, frequently misspelled words and more. This turned into some impromptu quizzing, which I inedibly failed at (geography is my weakest subject, and despite being very good at writing, I sometimes kind of fail at spelling). This, of course, lead to me getting spanked. This was very fun, and there was no reason for it to stop there, so Paul started looking for other things to quiz me on.
“Well, if you’re going to ask me more questions, I’m putting on a uniform so we can do this properly,” I announced, and I went off to find one. Paul also changed, going for a serious look in a shirt and tie. We then began a roleplay which evolved totally organically, without us having to discuss what we’d be doing at all. It turned out that I had gotten thrown out of school for biting another student (guilty as charged, by the way, if the other student was Mila or Bad Alex, who I may or may not have bitten again just the other day) and I was being given in-home instruction during my suspension. I now had to take a test to see if I’d be permitted back to school based on my efforts while homebound. I’m pretty sure that Paul thought that I’d be able to answer most of the questions that he asked during the test, but I actually couldn’t. I think that English and American educations are pretty vastly different. Or maybe it’s just a result of the fact that I took my post-secondary education at a Liberal Arts school. I can tell you the social and political concepts behind most (well, that seems arrogant. Many?) historical events, but when Paul asked me for the dates of things, the best answer I could give was “fuck if I know!” International Capitols? I don’t think I *ever* studied those in school. I was in pretty big trouble when I realized that the section I was doing best on was math. Oh dear.
Suffice to say, I didn’t get enough points to allow me back into school, and I engaged in some serious misbehavior in the process. Mr. Kennedy went off to find something with which to address these issues and he returned with a heavy leather paddle, which I insisted was not for use on me and had been left in the house after having been used to punish some other young lady who lived there before me. This didn’t fly, and I found myself getting soundly spanked. I was soon repentant, and I promised that I’d do better, bite no one and show respect for my school if allowed back. Satisfied with this, Paul sat me down to write lines while he stepped out for a moment. I *tried* to sit quietly and write “I am not a bear” (being a bear had been an excuse for biting) over and over again, but eventually, boredom took its toll and I finished off with “I am not writing this anymore” instead. Unsure of what I would do next, since being caught with this assignment unfinished would surely lead to more correction, I went and hid in on the floor of the study’s closet with the door shut. This would have worked out for at least a little while, except that when Paul returned he found our cat, The Punk, sitting in front of the closet door, meowing and scratching at it. My own cat sold me out, giving away my exact location. This was too funny to let pass, and when the door opened, the game was over, and we both had a laugh about my traitorous feline.
Paul and I had a sweet (and delicious!) Thanksgiving at home together: his first Thanksgiving ever! The next day he had to leave to go back to England for the next several months (he’s still there), so it was a bittersweet time.
I kept myself as busy as possible during the month of December, so I wouldn’t feel too lonely without Paul around. This involved seeing Maddy Marks and Christy Cutie as often as was possible, and doing lots of vanilla outings with Rafa and Zeki. After the first half of the month had passed, I flew to New York where I visited my family and had some spanking adventures, which I will spend less time dwelling on here since they are in far more recent memory. I spent a few days staying with Sarah Gregory, and we had lots of girly fun, plus I got to be spanked under the Christmas tree for her site’s Christmas special. I also got to meet up with, and get spanked by Kelly Payne for Tantrum Trainers, as described here:
That shoot was very laid back and a lot of fun. I get along really well with Kelly, and I certainly consider her one of my friends. We chatted a bit and caught up before we did our scene. It was very long and quite hard, plus it was all done over the knee. I’m wearing some shimmery stockings. This made me very happy. Kelly spanked me so hard for so long with her hand that she actually got a blood blister during the shoot. Fortunately, she had a paddle nearby to switch to nearby. That paddle stung crazily. The hand-spanking had been long and thorough, and it had sort of mesmerized me. My whole existence was hot and swollen as smack after smack fell on my bottom. The paddling cut through that, making each swat a strong peak of sensation. I was actually thinking about this while I was being spanked, at first, before it overwhelmed me: I was imagining making meringue, and watching as “stiff peaks form” as the recipe describes it. I felt like such peaks of sensation and pain were forming for me. Eventually, though, everything blurred together as I reached the point of being overwhelmed (in a good way, of course). I started to cry and to apologize and, near the end, started to have trouble talking. You know a video has actually pushed me when I start insisting that I can’t talk anymore near the end of it (or, in the case of this more severe video, quite early on in the spanking!).
Erica made a post a little while ago about not being able to articulate what happens in her mind during a spanking. I have the same experience. Once it reaches a certain point, it overwhelms my brain’s ability to break sensation down and put it into language. One minute I’m interpreting my spanking through a visual metaphor relating to pie-making, the next, there are no words. It’s just… there. Everything in my mind is the spanking and it exists in a place which, despite my efforts, I can’t reach to describe with language. This is something which commonly happens to me in my “real life” play (it’s pretty normal for Paul to try to talk to me while cuddling me after a scene and for me to insist that I “can’t brain”) but only happens on film every now and again, so it was kind of exciting.
I had actual Christmas with my family: a lowkey event without decorations or a tree or anything like that, since my mom was just moving into her new home post Hurricane Katrina AND was wheelchair bound following a broken hip. New Year’s eve was spent playing Katamari Damacy with my brother. In a certain way, it seemed fitting to end my year of transition without really fully diving into the holidays. The year had been that way. It was chock full of special moments that I’m going to treasure forever, but they weren’t on the days that the calendar tells us to make memories.
My 2014 has been going well so far. I’ve been living up to my resolutions to finish getting as set up in my new home as possible and to read more books. I haven’t, however, been keeping up with my blogging the way I wanted to. It’s been a long time since I posted as regularly as I’d like to. Before, this was because I was constantly traveling, then it was because I was focusing on getting settled in my new place. Recently? It’s been because I’ve been intentionally keeping myself as busy as possible to keep myself from being lonely while Paul is away. This means that I’m rarely ever at home and not doing anything, which has done wonders for my mood but horrors for my blogging! Fingers crossed I can keep posting on a regular basis! ♥