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How to Comment Politely on Kinky Photos: A Guide for the Genuinely Curious

Published February 7, 2014

Last week on Fetlife, I responded to a comment on a Fetlife photo letting someone know that I didn’t appreciate the way that he had spoken to me. One of my friends wrote back saying that maybe I could do a guide regarding what kind of comments are and aren’t okay, since some people are genuinely not sure. I don’t expect that this guide is going to make a difference in the way that people comment on photos, but it will make me feel like I did my best to share my thoughts on what is and isn’t okay. So here it goes!

Note: ALL the comments I use as examples in this are based on real shit that I got. As always, these thoughts are my feelings, and I’m sure that there are many people who don’t agree with me. Take them as such, not as the Holy Gospel of Spanking Truth (because that’s not the name of this blog, is it?) 

1) Rule one: respect. 
 On Fetlife, tumblr, blogs and other social media used for kink, people share photos with strangers that are of a kinky and or sexual nature. Just because someone is showing themselves off sexually it doesn’t mean that they are inviting you to talk about them in explicit, objectifying ways. This is an idea which is very hard for a lot of people. Recently, there was a high profile piece of writing on Fetlife in which a girl said (I’m paraphrasing, but these are the real ideas) “If you’re a smart girl, you won’t wear slutty clothes in a dark alley at night because you know that makes you likely to be raped. Likewise, if you’re a smart girl you won’t post slutty photos online, because you know that makes you likely to be talked about in a way that makes you uncomfortable.” 

I was in a horrible rage after I read that. I had to quit the internet, go cuddle my cats and then take a walk before I could get back to work. The idea that if you show yourself off and get attention that you don’t want, it’s your own damn fault for tempting others with your body is one of the biggest problems with our culture. A girl can want to look sexy and be treated with respect. These are not mutually exclusive. A girl can put her photos out there because she wants attention. This is not a bad thing. It is okay to want attention. Wanting attention doesn’t mean wanting every kind of attention. Throw the attitude of “If you didn’t want me to say xyz, then you shouldn’t have posted naked photos to the internet” in the trash, now. The guiding rule to commenting on kinky photos anywhere on the internet is to treat the people in the pictures with respect. They’re making themselves vulnerable, whether they are professional fetish models like me or “amateur” exhibitionists doing it for a thrill or anything in between. You get the reap the benefits of an internet which is stuffed to the gills with every kind of sexy, kinky photos you can imagine. Treat them with respect. Unsure how to do that? Read on!

 2) Don’t say anything in a comment on someone’s photo that you wouldn’t say to their face. Sometimes, the anonymity of the internet makes us feel braver than we actually are. Imagine yourself at a party and the person whose photo it is walks in. Chances are, you’re a total stranger to this person. Would you really lean in and say “Wow, what a butt, I’d love to be balls deep in it”?

3) There are some thoughts that are best kept to yourself. 
As a fetish model, it’s my job to make people horny. I’m under no illusion as to what many people do when they look at my photos and videos. It’s the same exact thing that I’ve been doing while looking at spanking photos and videos for the past ten years. You don’t have to tell me about it, and if you do want to, there are right and wrong ways to do it. Here’s a list of examples, ranging from nicest to most awful:

^_^  Wow, I really enjoyed this photo. Thanks for sharing, it made my day.
😀  This is a really erotic shot. So hot!
🙂 You’re super sexy and it’s so working for me.
: /  This made me incredibly horny to look at.
-_-  Yikes, I need to keep tissues by my desk when looking at your profile.
>_< When I saw this, my dick got hard and I stroked it while thinking about you until I came all over my pants.
>_< *Emails or uploads a photo of having printed out stranger’s photo and ejaculated all over it*

How come certain comments about being made horny by photos are okay and others aren’t? For one thing, comments that come from a friend, play partner or lover are going to be greeted with more excitement than those that come from a total stranger. If you don’t know a person or know who he or she is involved with, don’t take the fact that the poster responded positively to one such comment as an invitation to add a similar one of your own. Another thing: being funny about it, especially in a self deprecating way, makes it less uncomfortable, although again, this works better with people who you know. As a general rule, the more language relating to your genitalia and the fluids that come out of it when you’re aroused that you include, the less likely it is to go over well.

On a related note, nothing gets a stern “No” or a comment deletion from me more quickly than describing what sort of sexual acts you’d like to do with me. I post a photo of myself posing nude on the sofa with my bottom out and someone responds with “That ass is just calling for me to stick my thick cock in it and make you squirm with pleasure.” I promptly delete that, because who the fuck are you?! I don’t want your dick. Remember this, strangers, unless you happen to have the proverbial chocolate penis which shoots money, I don’t want your dick (and even then, I mostly only want it for entertainment/money collecting purposes, because chocolate is probably not a good thing to put in your vag). I have five sexual partners. All of them use Fetlife. All of them manage to keep their internet comments about my body classy, 100 percent of the time. So can you. So, go ahead and have that fantasy. Spend so much time thinking about how my curvy bottom must feel to touch that you miss the bus and end up late for work. Just don’t comment saying “I spent so much time thinking about how your curvy bottom must feel to touch that I missed the bus and was late for work.” I don’t find it offensive at all if you fantasize about having hardcore, D/s sex with me. I just don’t want you to write me a two page long poem about how you fantasize about having hardcore, D/s sex with me.

4) Watch the language you use to talk about someone’s body.
Don’t tell a girl that her tits are small, even if they’re small. She knows. Don’t tell someone that she’s chubby, even if she is. She knows. You think that really tall girl looks weird OTK? Don’t point it out. Don’t call body parts “fat,” “wide,” “huge,” “chunky” et cetera, even if it feels like a compliment in your mind. I have a friend who has really big breasts. I think they’re gorgeous, but I don’t comment on her photos saying “You have really big breasts.” Why? Because I don’t know how she feels about it. Maybe she hates her chest, since it developed when she was in middle school and subjected her to teasing from her peers, makes finding appropriately fitting tops difficult, causes her buttons to pull uncomfortably during professional settings and draws unavoidable attention to one of the most sexual parts of her body wherever she goes. Sure, maybe she loves it. Maybe in her mind, it’s her best feature, and she loves the way her shape accents her femininity and she feels empowered by the fact that she can make even a baggy, old men’s shirt look sexy as fuck. The point is, I don’t know how she feels about her body. Besides, I can compliment her breasts without having to talk about the size of them: “You have a gorgeous chest” works just fine. I much prefer “I love the shape of your bottom, it’s delightful” to “Wonderful plump rump!”

If you’re in doubt, compliment the entire thing instead of just a single body part. “You have such a great figure” goes over much better than “I love your tits.” On that note, try to find words to describe body parts that are somewhere between ridiculously childish and offensively crude. Guys, would you like it if girls referred to your “peepee” when you upload a sexy, nude photo of yourself? That’s how I feel when guys use words like “tatas” or “hooha” to talk about my body. It’s embarrassingly uncomfortable. On the other end of the spectrum, I don’t want you talking about my twat or cunt. No. Do not do. Someone once referred to my butt as a “sexy shitter.” Worst. Ever. Can’t come up with a word that doesn’t seem uncomfortable? Don’t make the comment, easy as that.

5) This is not your scene. 
“That’s a well spanked bottom, but why are your panties still up? I only spank on the bare.” “Sexy lingerie, but I don’t like the heels. I prefer a woman barefoot.” “Great outdoor nude, but you could use some cane stripes on that bottom.” “What a fun day, but you’re wearing too much clothing! You look so much sexier with less on!” “Needs more color, that’s just a warmup!” “Woah, that’s way too severe for me! Redness only, no bruises here!” “Just corner time? I give my subs corner time with a butt plug and vaginal dildo in place and tell them not to touch themselves. Your way is lame.” “If I did that to a woman, I’d report myself to the police.” “The front of the thighs? That’s not a spanking. Yuck.” “If someone treated me like a little girl like that, I’d punch him in the face.” “I would never go out of the house wearing that, it’s way too short!” “You call that a caning? I’d make you bleed!” “Why are you wearing clothes in the bath, idiot?” “Stop smiling! It’s supposed to hurt!” “Wet and messy is fucking disgusting.” “He missed a spot! Go back and get her thighs!” “What a tame photo, not sexy at all.” “You have too much stuff on your walls, it’s distracting me from your tits.” “Those socks suck, take them off so I can see your feet.” “I hate the cane, it’s too brutal. I’d give you a nice hand spanking instead.” “Granny panties? Where’s your sexy thong?” “I don’t want to see anymore pictures of your ass looking like hamburger meat.” “Why aren’t you nude?” “Flashing your panties in public should earn you another spanking!”

Shut up. Just shut up. It is not your scene. It is my scene. I enjoyed this scene, so I took a photo of it and put them on the internet to share with you. I can’t please everyone. I do a huge variety of things, and post a variety of pictures. If this one doesn’t satisfy you, look at some others. If none of mine do, find another person whose pictures do. Don’t want to play the way I do? You don’t have to. No one is asking you to. If for some reason you feel the need to share the fact that you don’t like to play a particular way that someone else does, there’s a nice way to do this. For example: “That’s a bit too intense for me, personally, but I’m glad that you got what you needed!” or “I prefer to only be spanked on the bottom, but if you liked this thigh caning, more power to you!” Or, have your own damn scene.

6) Singling one person out for a compliment is a passive insult at the rest of the people in the photo.



“I like the bottom on the far right,” said one commenter on the group shot I posted of all the ladies following our spankings for Sternwood Academy. He was talking about Cheyenne Jewel’s gorgeous bottom. The problem is that there are seven girls in the shot, each with their own, uniquely gorgeous bottom. Everyone who is into girls and is looking at a group of girls can pick out the one which they think is the most attractive. When you comment to let us know which one it is, you’re telling everyone else in the group that they aren’t your favorite, especially uncomfortable when the picture was posted by someone who you didn’t choose. My ex used to say “When girls aren’t having pillow fights in their pajamas, they’re comparing themselves to each other.” While this attitude on women is a bit dismissive and problematic, there is a twinkle of truth to part of it. Girls compare themselves to each other. Chances are, if you have seven girls in a photo, every single one of them thinks that they look the worst out of the bunch. One girl feels too tall. One girl feels too short. One girl worries that she has a fat butt. One girl worries that she doesn’t have enough of a butt. “Her thighs are thinner than mine.” “Her legs are longer than mine.” “Her feet are more dainty than mine.” “Her hair looks better than mine.” “Her butt reddens more than mine.” “She’s more spankable than I am.” “She’s cuter than me.” “She’s younger than me.” It goes on and on in our minds.
Don’t play into this. Either compliment the group or don’t comment.

7) Respect that your kink is not necessarily my kink.
There is one person who frequently comments on my photos who is really into enema play. I’m not really into enema play. On nearly every spanking photo, he comments with a description of how he imagined the scene went: “After a long hard spanking, she got a big, cold water enema to clean her out, leaving her feeling really punished!” I always end up either deleting the comment or responding saying “No, that’s not what happened, or what will happen.” This is sort of a combination of keeping your fantasy to yourself and understanding that this is not your scene, but it’s a particular thing which happens an awful lot, so I figured it needed it’s own note. I especially notice that there are a lot of spankos commenting on pictures of girls who have the (in their mind, unfortunate) combination of an attractive bottom and a different fetish than spanking. They tell these girls that they have very spankable bottoms, and that they’d love to turn them over their knees for a good bottom reddening. If someone told me that, I’d smile. If this person’s kink is decorative rope bondage, or service oriented submission, or feet, or anything else that isn’t spanking related, then this comment is putting your fetish on someone else who doesn’t have that kink, and that’s an uncomfortable feeling. Don’t know if someone is into your kink? Check their profile for signs that they are before you comment to such an effect.

I might come back and add more to this post later, but for now, I think this covers the basics (and I’m hungry, so I think my writing quality is deteriorating). Thoughts? Please add yours in the comment section (respectfully, of course!) ♥

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Happy happy happy things!

Published January 31, 2014

So, there’s a meme going around where one lists 54 things which make them happy. I can honestly say I have NO IDEA why it’s 54 things, but I’m going to give this list a go. I think of myself as a very happy person, and I take pleasure in a lot of small things, so I can’t imagine this list being all that hard for me.

1) Paul obviously starts this list, since he’s the greatest source of joy in my life. ^_^
2) My cats, especially when they’re being snuggly, but even when they’re naughty.
3) Yellow flowers, especially roses.
4) Singing along to music while driving.
5) Huffing old books to get a good whiff of that smell.
6) Snuggly pajamas, especially with cute prints.
7) Excessive keychains and phone charms.
8) Clean white bed sheets.
9) Cuddly stuffed animals.
10) Disneyland!
11) Skype dates with my friends who I can’t see often.
12) Lunch dates with those I’m lucky enough to be able to get together with!
13) This flowering vine which grows in the shape of a giant pink heart which I pass on the 101 on my way to Rafa’s house. Instant smile.
14) Good zoos (like the San Diego Zoo!)
15) Wearing short, flouncy dresses.
16) Bows.
17) Hot chocolate with a giant pile of whipped cream on top (especially served to me after a spanking and before bed!)
18) Coloring, both in coloring books and freehand.
19) The soft feeling of a really well worn, favorite t-shirt.
20) Rubbing my face on just about anything soft. Weird? Kinda. Pleasurable? Extremely.
21) Wearing heels. I used to feel embarrassed about my height and now that I don’t, it’s a source of serious happiness.
22) Flowering trees.
23) Spotting an unexpected little chumbly animal.
24) Reading about bears. Because bears. ^_^
25) Really well executed Long Takes in film.
26) Discovering a new band and realizing how much I like it. (This literally just happened with “The Lightning Seeds.” So in love with this.)
27) That feeling deep inside you get when you hear a song you love but haven’t listened to in years.
28) Fireflies.
29) Jumping on trampolines.
30) The ocean. The sound, the sight, the smell.
31) Collecting shells.
32) Academic discourse.
33) Learning about subjects I previously hadn’t studied and feeling my mind open.
34) New York style pizza.
35) Revolving sushi bars.
36) Lolita dresses.
37) Crystal doorknobs.
38) The very first time I put on a new lipstick.
39) Places that never change and take you back to another time in your life.
40) The handwriting of the people I love.
42) Sending care packages to people who I miss. I love selecting just the right things.
43) Playing out in the rain.
44) Daiso. Oh god, I like Daiso too much. It’s a Japanese dollar store with shops in America. I may have spent $80 there once. 0_0
45) White cotton panties.
46) Baths, especially with delightfully scented bathbombs or salts.
47) Hot tubs, especially with Christy Cutie!
48) Stealing away for a moment of privacy in a busy place.
49) Exploring a new airport during a layover. I don’t particularly like air travel, but I do find this extremely fun. Airports in other countries are doubly exciting.
50) Objects that hold lots of memories and meaning, like my shell necklace (which currently needs a new chain), my brother’s old flannel shirts and the pink sock that my neighbor found on the block where my childhood house used to be. Some of these things seem bittersweet, but they make me happy. They’re precious objects.
51) Baking and sharing the fruits of my labor.
52) Sweet, alcoholic party punch.
53) Watching panda videos online.
54) Curryhouse, my favorite restaurant!
55) Diners.
56) Milkshakes.
57) Sudden and unexpected slow dancing.
58) Unusual, fruit flavored sodas.
59) Going to Cold Stone and getting all the fruits possible in the ice cream!
60) Economy of language in poetry that shakes me to the core.
61) Holidays.
62) Welsh Corgis
63) Macaroons.
64) The smell of pine forests.

Oh. I was supposed to stop about ten happy things ago. Oops. Too much happy.
Have a great weekend, everyone! Be happy!

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2013 Overview: The End!

Published January 31, 2014

It’s time for me to wrap up my Year in Review with the final few months! Hooray!

September:

Bad Alex got me caned again. You will read about this in a moment.

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 is that friend.

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:

For some reason, I ended up drinking naked in my room during October CCM.

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: 

This photo has nothing to do with the story I chose for this month, but it took place in November and I have no photo from the night in question!

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.

December: 

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! ♥

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Remembering More of 2013

Published January 14, 2014

It is now time for me to share my adventures in the next four months of 2013, continuing on from my last post.

May:

Oh, May. May is my favorite month of the year, and always has been. I have seasonal depression (SAD) and, unfortunately, I spent the bigger portion of my life living in places where April was still quite solidly a winter month. Sure, there were spring days in April, but they were teases. April came into my room and took her top off, got me really excited, then “got tired” and left for the night, never to return. May, however, has always consistently delivered. I meet Springtime with a passionate euphoria. I love everything about it. I love the smell of grass, the greenness of the world, watching buds grow and swell and then finally bloom. I love spring rain, flowering trees, the return of song birds and the off chance of meeting a baby animal in the wild. This May, my entire life went to bud as I emotionally began to recede from a long and cold period of winter. By May, there was no denying that I was deeply and passionately in love with Paul. At the start of the month, I went down to Texas to see Mila, WYO and LLB. They all constantly commented on the fact that they had never seen me so happy. I couldn’t remember ever having been so happy, either. To quote James Wright, “Suddenly, I realize that if I stepped out of my body I would break into blossom.”

During my visit to Texas, Mila and I had lots of wacky hijinxes, I got soundly spanked by WYO, I had more root beer floats than a girl is probably supposed to in a week, I ate the world’s most delicious barbecue and I spent a long time lying by the pool or soaking in the hot tub with LLB. After that, I took a week or so back in South Dakota before heading to Denver, where I hung out with Amoni some more, visited with my friends DarkSteven and DarkStevensGirl, hung out with Sophie and Danny and filmed for Real Spankings again. Then, after I’d been there for about a week, Paul came to visit me. It was our first time being together as a couple, as our relationship had grown and developed in the time since I had left England. I was a jittery mess as Amoni took me to meet him at the airport; entirely unable to contain my excitement. Finally, I saw him from across the room and ran into his arms. Time seemed to stop for a while as we kissed passionately.

I wrote about the first night that we arrived at the cabin where we spent nearly two weeks, but I didn’t ever tell any other stories. So, instead of picking a clip from my writing about that month, here are a few scenes which I’ve never (publicly!) written about before:

On one of our first days there, I packed us a lunch of sandwiches, pretzels and lemonade, plus a whole container full of gummy bears for me and we went on a picnic for lunch. I had a lot of fun frolicking around, and on the way, we saw a whole troop of adorable young Elk. Afterwards, we went to a lake which was actually a dam of some sort, with something to do with a very big tube transporting water in a way which was somehow impressive (this is really showing how much attention I was paying during this field trip! I was mostly looking for more animals to befriend! -_-) and which Paul was very interested in. We followed a path up a hill so that he could see some sort of building relating to this, and I played around, climbing on things and doing whatever it is that I do when left to my own devices for a few minutes.

LUNCH

“You know what else places like this are good for?” Paul asked me, once he had finished what he was doing.

“Climbing on rocks?” I asked, as I hopped down. I gently caressed my face.

“Smacking my naughty girl’s bottom outdoors,” he told me, sitting down on the rock I had just been chumbling over. There was no one around and no sign that anyone would be approaching anytime soon. There weren’t even any woodland creatures to witness my spanking, as my search for them earlier had been a total bust. Yet I still felt shy and coy as I slunk over to his side and carefully positioned myself over his lap. The air was cool on my bottom as he lifted my skirt, and the first SMACK seemed impossibly loud. Besides being noisy, and delightfully embarrassing, the crisp mountain air made my bottom feel more sensitive, and I soon found myself wiggling as the smacks continued to fall. This scene didn’t last long, but it was incredibly exciting. I was wearing a particularly short dress that day, and I kept holding it down in the back as we walked back to the car, which made Paul laugh.

 

Soundly spanked outdoors ^_^

♥♥♥

A few days before this scene took place, I had been sitting on Paul’s lap getting snuggled while he was seated at the desk in the cabin’s study (presumably he’d been trying to do work, but I had required attention and had climbed on him, a behavior which has become a staple of our daily life). Eventually, though, mischief took over, and I had opened the drawer of the desk to discover that there was a piece of chalk there. Paul was wearing a black shirt. It seemed that the only reasonable thing to do under these circumstances was to doodle on his back while we were cuddling. He didn’t notice what I was doing, and only ever did because I couldn’t help my giggling about ten minutes later. I had been put over his lap and spanked, and I had promised never to do it again. This day, however, I didn’t feel like keeping that promise, and as I snuggled in the same position, I once again opened the desk drawer to look for the chalk. Unfortunately, Paul had been clever and had confiscated the chalk. I was disappointed, so I started to investigate what other options I had. I discovered a few colored paperclips, and I started to clip those to the back of his shirt collar.

“What are you doing, Alex?” he asked sternly.

“Nothing!” I said, as innocently as I could muster.

He reached back and pulled the paperclips off. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

“A paperclip,” I replied, since this was the only reasonable answer to the question “What is this?” when one is holding a paperclip.

“This,” Paul corrected, “is abuse of stationary.” I snorted. “You’re going to be punished for this,” he told me. “Go sit on the sofa and wait for me.”

I galavanted off to the sofa, clearly getting what I wanted. In a minute or so, Paul returned with my hairbrush, which had been sitting on top of the dresser in the bedroom. He set it down and then pulled me over his lap. He began to spank me with his hand, quite hard and at a quicker pace than usual, and I soon began to whimper and struggle slightly, as my bottom had gotten quite sore since I was getting spanked, strapped, and caned quite regularly for the past week or so. After a few minutes of this, he began to smack the backs of my thighs. Over the course of the past six months or so, I’d been doing a lot less play which involved being spanked on my thighs, and not only had the psychological effect of it returned to a state of great potency, my skin had become less conditioned for spanking and was particularly tender. I soon started to cry out and wail, doing my best to be still but needing to be somewhat restrained with my hand held behind my back. Before I knew it, I had passed that threshold and burst into tears, but this didn’t signify any slowing in pace for the spanking (nor would I have wanted it to). It was a long scene, and by the time he finally released my hand and started gently rubbing my sore and swollen thighs and bottom, I had forgotten that he had come into the room carrying a hairbrush. No, that’s a huge lie. I was very well aware of what was lying on the ground not far from my face. I just hoped that Paul had forgotten it. In very short order, I was reminded that he had not, and he instructed me to hand it to him.

The hairbrush portion of the spanking was much shorter than the hand spanking had been, but I was sore and already crying, so it felt like it lasted forever. The particular hairbrush which he was using is primarily stingy, with a sharp bite. It has a shiny surface, and the pain of it *feels* shiny, as silly as that may sound. I was quite sure that I had a shiny surface, too, by the time that I gotten quite a few whacks with it. I did my best to take it like a good girl, though, and when it was over Paul pulled me up into a cuddle. My bottom and thighs felt like they were twice their usual size and my mind buzzed with endorphins.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I might choose to punish you particularly severely for something minor if I feel that you need it or if it pleases me to,” he told me. I felt a rush of submissive excitement at these words and basked in the feeling of unfairness, the world being entirely out of my control.

“Yes, Paul,” I whispered, clinging to him as I caught my breath. “Thank you for spanking me.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

I have approximately eleventy trillion scenes from this time that I want to eventually share, but I figure that I can always go back to favorite memories in later posts. There’s no statute of limitations surrounding writing about spankings, after all!

June: 

Getting spanked by “The Arms” at TASSP

Our cabin adventure lapsed into June, and once we eventually had to leave (I could have happily lived in that world forever) we headed for Daytona Beach, where we attended Florida Moonshine’s Tropical Beach Party. This was the only time I had ever visited Florida, or really anywhere on the Southern Eastern Seaboard, and I had a wonderful time. The party was different than any of the other national parties. It felt more laid back and relaxed, and it had fun and exciting things about it like games run by Strict Dave and a raffle in which you could earn tickets by participating in events. That said, for the first time ever, I fell into the habit of spending a lot of private time in my room with Paul, away from the rest of the party. I wanted to spend as much time focused on “us” as possible, since once the party was over he’d be flying back to England. Again, this month I’ll share a story I haven’t done before.

One night, my friend Zoey Wicks got the insides of her thighs cropped in the middle of the party suite, and being a (horrible/lovable) instigator, my friend _Morgan suggested that I should be next for this “fun” proceeding. Previously, I had always turned down invitations to play with riding crops, unless it was for film. They seemed too “BDSM-y” for me, and the word conjured up an image of a cheap toy that couples might buy at a trashy sex store to try and “spice up” their sex life. Zoey’s scene had looked exciting, though, and the crops in question were admittedly gorgeous (London Tanner creations). I was considering taking _Morgan up on his offer, but Paul decided for me that I would, indeed, be next. He then talked to _Morgan and Rainyspanker, who had just done Zoey’s cropping, and determined that each of them would give me five strokes, each taking care of one of my legs. I’d never had a scene negotiated for me by someone else. It seemed almost objectifying in a way which was extremely exciting to me. I’m sure that I was terribly loud as I squealed and shrieked with every stroke, and Paul watched with great delight. Rainyspanker’s strokes were harder than _Morgan’s though (this might have been the first time that _Morgan and I actually played together, and he didn’t know my reactions yet, so he was dialing it back, I think). Later that evening, the marks on my left leg had bloomed into what looked like purple “tags” due to the shape of the crop, but my right leg, although still a little sore, looked fine. This asymmetry wouldn’t do, so Paul borrowed one of the crops again and took me into a back room of the suite and sat me on the bed there. Seeing him holding the crop with his shirt sleeves rolled up and a frightfully determined look on his face instantly changed my opinion of riding crops from “pretty lame” to “one of the hottest things ever.” Having no reason to hold back, his five strokes made me wail, cry and sob, but I kept my legs open and took them as well as I could. Afterwards, he ran his fingers over the fresh welts, making me whimper and moan, and we went back to our room for some aftercare.

Eventually, the day came that Paul had to leave, and I felt pretty much sick with sadness. I knew I’d be seeing him in a couple of months, but I couldn’t bear the idea of being apart. Fortunately, that day _Morgan, our friend, S. and I were leaving to take a road trip from Florida to Dallas, where I’d once again be visiting WYO and LLB before heading to TASSP. This kept me quite well distracted! After lots of awesome visiting (we were also joined by Ten and Bettycrocker) it was the time for the party, where I shared a room with Christy Cutie in Sarah Gregory’s suite, and got to know both girls much better. Christy and I became a bit inseparable, and got up to lots of naughty business, including a very hot spanking and sensation play scene with Oak during “The Dark Party” and getting spanked by a friend who we nicknamed “The Arms” due to his muscley business.

July:

Several spankings later, at Crimson Moon!

I celebrated my 26th birthday in July, including a visit to the Sioux Falls Zoo, a trip to the trampoline park, two cakes, a new Hitachi (since my old one had met an untimely end when I tried to use it overseas) and a stuffed cuddly panda named Glenn, who remains one of my best friends. I was staying with my friend VNG01 at this point, and we had adventures pretty regularly, including late night trips to IHOP complete with lots of silly banter. My life was in full-force “transition mode” at this point, as I had officially decided to leave Sioux Falls and go live in Los Angeles again, and I was living full time at VNG01’s house in the meantime. Although Malignus had broken up with me in April, it was a difficult time as I began to fully remove myself from that relationship and focus on moving on with my life. It was during this time that Paul determined that he would be coming to live with me in Los Angeles, though, so I had a glowing light of stability at the end of the tunnel of transition.

One of the most fun parts of July was my semiannual trip to Chicago for the Crimson Moon party, where I spent lots of time with Drlectr and Ten, my beloved bad counterpart (theBadAlex) and Christy Cutie, among other wonderful people. We had an epic school roleplay complete with a gaggle of naughty school girls in uniform, desks, teachers, classes and report cards. We were supposed to get our report cards signed and turn them in, but in petulant protest, I refused to have my card signed by anyone but Paul and hid it in my planner until he arrived in Los Angeles, at which point he spanked and paddled me not only for my poor grades but for getting my report card signed two months late! Bad Alex and I also engaged in an awesome roleplay with Jon83 (one of my all time favorite tops!) which I later described like this:

…We played a scene with our friend Jon83 in which we were sisters who had been caught cutting school to go to the mall by our father. I really like roleplaying with Alex when we’re not even caught yet: we just banter back and forth as misbehaving girls and giggle an awful lot. When we came back to our hotel room (in the pretend, our home) after having snuck out of school, we were greeted by Jon, who was none to pleased with us. We then started to try to lie our way out of things. My lies were things like “We just ran home to get our books!” but Alex’s were things like “It’s National Alex Day! No one with our name is allowed at school! We have the day off!” This threw me into a fit of hysterics, and it reminded me of a detail that had never been discussed: we were supposed to be sisters of the same age with the same name. We made a series of jokes back and forth to each other as we tried to figure out why this was until Jon sent Bad Alex to the corner to separate us, pointing to her and saying “That one! Go to the corner!”

This was the only time in my life that I laughed while getting a hard paddling.

Following the party, I lingered at Joe and Ten’s for a while, where Prux and I got to spend some awesome time connecting, my favorite brother, Whooperine gave me lots of cuddles, Bad Alex was a total bitch and got me in trouble by JC, who proceeded to paddle me with a Jokari and there were lots of hilarious moments in general, especially those involving Korey and James Johnson. I think that Korey may be one of the people with whom I have the most compatible sense of humor ever, and we had each other in hysterics for most of the after-party, be it about Whooperine’s “God like” teeth or a particular clicking noise that James makes under certain circumstances.

August: 

Another post Real Spankings selfie!

In August, I had the craziest schedule of my entire life. I headed to NYC for a week near the start of the month and everything that could have been rescheduled, cancelled or changed was, including my flight back home. I finally got back to Sioux Falls the day before Epipelagic arrived to visit me. She had planned this visit in advance, and it was meant to give me some company and a connection back to the life that I had left in Los Angeles, but with the way things were going, it turned into more of a packing frenzy, since I would be leaving Sioux Falls for good the day after she went back to LA. She was such a sweet and supportive friend, and together we managed to get everything I own compressed via spacebag and then creatively packed into my sedan for my long road trip. It was difficult (but ultimately very healthy) to say goodbye to a place that I had lived for two years, even if my experience there had been less than ideal. I had made friends who I was certainly going to miss, VNG01 in particular. Once Epipelagic was back in LA, I started my own very indirect journey to the same place. My first stop was Denver, where I had more visiting with Amoni, DS and DSG, and did one of my favorite shoots for Real Spankings, including two scenes where I got spanked outdoors! From there, I drove down to Texas again, where I had a little R+R at WYO and LLB’s place, had a girl’s day out with Princess Kelley and spent some time visiting with my good friend Finneous. On my last day there, I picked up Mila and we started our road trip to Vegas for Shadowlane. Road tripping with a very anxious Alex in a car packed to the gills with everything she owned couldn’t have been the world’s greatest time, but we had lots of fun and plenty of laughs as Mila kept me upbeat, including my mistaking a cotton gin for “a motherfucking church” or a ziggurat, an ill-fated attempt to visit “Indian Ruins” for tourism fun which turned out just to be a lame ass gift store which was NAMED Indian Ruins and Mila spilling peach juice all over herself when I braked too quickly.

Shadowlane itself was quite a whirlwind. I got to see Maddy Marks, her boyfriend, Siq, Christy Cutie and handfuls of other friends, did an epically fun shoot for Triple A Spanking with Maddy and Christy and, having absolutely no sense of self preservation, got my hands tawsed by Mr. Allen again. This time, I didn’t end up on the floor gasping for breath, but I did make a screech of pain so pitiful that it made friends on the other side of the suite concerned about me. I also had some memorable scenes during the “Spankee Hawkins” uniformed event, where girls were meant to ask the Tops to play (something I’m not good at) and I was dressed in a Girl Scout uniform.

Finally, though, the party came to an end and it was time for Mila and I to drive the rest of the way to LA. We listened to California and Los Angeles themed songs as we drove, and I nearly cried with happiness. I knew that a wonderful chapter of my life was about to begin. ♥

I can’t guarantee when the final segment of this post will go up. I’m going to be spending the night at Lily Starr’s house tomorrow, and on Thursday I’m heading to visit Joe and Ten in Indiana for the weekend. I’ll do it as soon as I can, though: my goal for 2014 is NOT to lag months behind on my posting like I did in 2013!

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Welcome to 2014!

Published January 12, 2014

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.
January:

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.

February:

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:

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:

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.

Pain.

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. ♥

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Winter Wonders

Published December 24, 2013

As I mentioned before, Paul is in England until February, leaving me woefully unsupervised. In lieu of running through the neighborhood stealing cars and chopping down trees (which is what he always says will happen if he doesn’t impose rules, structure and discipline in my life) I decided to head to the East Coast (from whence I originally came) to visit friends and family and to do some shooting with producers local to there. If you’re located in within driving distance from central New Jersey or within public transit distance from NYC and want to do a session before January 6th, I have limited availability left before I leave. Email alexinspankingland@gmail.com and we’ll see if we can set something up. 

I left for New York on the evening of the 11th, and had quite the adventure in not sleeping: I had an overnight flight, but had to leave my house in the valley at 9:00 to drive to Rafa and Zeki’s place downtown, since they’re using my car while I’m gone. Rafa then took me to LAX and I did all of the usual airport business, getting on my flight around midnight. I had a layover around 8 AM, Eastern Time, at which point I had not slept. I then got on another flight around 1:00, which got me to NY around 3:00. I went directly from the airport to my first shoot: I don’t actually have the link to the site at the moment, but I’ll update this post when I do, but it was delightfully dark and edgy, including limp/sleepy/chloroform fetish. I was remarkably not dead of actually sleepiness at this point, and I stayed awake even though a lot of the shoot involved me lying around pretending to be asleep! When we finished, they brought me back to the train station and I went up to stay with a vanilla friend in the city. We had to take some time to catch up, of course, but when we headed into her room to go to sleep, we discovered that the heat was broken.

Now, some people can survive when they’re cold. I’m not one of those people. Being cold is a huge deal to me, and it was about 7F outside. My friend’s room was cold enough that we saw our breath indoors. She didn’t have tons of blankets, either, so I just sat up on her air mattress with my coat on and a blanket around me and shivered for most of the night. I didn’t really sleep, because I couldn’t relax in the cold. The next morning I got up and had the hottest shower I could stand. I was quite warmed up by it, and we went out and bought a space heater since the landlord “wasn’t sure” when he could have the heat fixed. Oh dear. 0_0 The space heater was very effective, though! As soon as it got warm, I wanted to crawl into bed and take a nap, but it was time to get ready to visit Kelly Payne for my next shoot for her site, Tantrum Trainers. I’ll hopefully have photos from that the next time that I post. In the meantime, here’s Miss Payne looking sexy as all hell as she takes me to task:

I really enjoyed being over this lap. 🙂 

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.

Finally, on Friday night I headed back to my friend’s house and went to sleep, after having been awake since Tuesday morning! Following this, I did some more hanging out and had a series of other traveling related hassles (as tends to happens to me: in addition to a last name, I share the characteristic with Malcolm Reynolds that “things don’t go smooth.”) Eventually, I made my way to Sarah Gregory‘s house in Connecticut. She and her submissive J_Dogg picked me up from the train station and we went to go pick out a Christmas tree for her house. I’m glad that I got to do this with her, since I didn’t have a tree at home before I left. As I mentioned in my last post, my family isn’t really fully celebrating Christmas this year since we’re just trying to get set up in my mom’s new place following losing our house in Hurricane Sandy, so we’re not having a Christmas tree there, either. Last year, I had an adorable, tiny Christmas tree (Malignus allowed my friends to give me one decoration each and this was all he’d permit me to hang up, so a thoughtful friend made her one ornament a little, live tree, complete with lights already on it!) and I stayed in South Dakota for Christmas. The year before, my family didn’t have a real Christmas celebration because instead we were doing my brother’s memorial service. So, decorating the tree with Sarah was the first time I’d done a full sized Christmas tree since 2010, and it was very refreshing to do so! So much so that I put tinsel all over myself:

Chriiiiiiistmassssss, bitches! 

The tree turned out wonderfully, and Sarah and I got to spend lots of girly time talking and hanging out. The next day, we woke up to find out that the world had been covered in snow (and by “the world” I mean “Sarah’s town” because it was recently brought to my attention that my common use of hyperbole is “awful”). We got dressed up in snow gear to go outside and have a little frolic. For me, “snow gear” meant wearing tights under my skirt and over my knee socks, boots which Sarah had been so kind as to give me since I had none, my new coat and big, pink bow. And braids. Braids are an important part of being in the snow.

Sarah took some photos of me playing outside, and I was really blown away with them. She’s a very good photographer!

Such winter. Wow. What snow. 

Frolics! 

Oh hai from both of us! 🙂

The roads were not exactly great that night, and I think most people stayed in their houses, but Sarah and I really needed to get out and do something exciting. Sarah took a shower right before we went out, though, and put her hair up in a wet bun. While she was cleaning off her car, it froze. I poked at it a bunch and it was just… a haircicle. Yiiiiiikes. Soon, we were safely on our way (with Sarah driving very carefully). We went to eat at a Southwestern place which Sarah likes a lot called Mo’s. I’d never had it before, but we had a nice meal there, and I may or may not have abused the fact that you can add flavoring to your soda there. Cherry vanilla lime raspberry coke is actually not as good as it sounds. After dinner, we went to the local mall and got tickets to watch The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, which neither of us had seen yet. We were a bit early as we’d overestimated the amount of time it might take to get to the mall in the snow, so we did a bit of shopping, getting lots of bows and some other cute stuff. We both enjoyed the movie, and we got home safely afterwards where we continued do more girly talking until it was pretty late. We were doing a shoot the next day, so we had to go to bed.

The next morning, Robert Shore (CTPhotographer) came over so we could do our shoot. We filmed a Christmas special which is currently running on Sarah Gregory Spanking called “Not What She Wished For.” In this film, I play a naughty little girl who sneaks down to the Christmas tree to start opening presents without waiting for the rest of her family. When Robert catches me, he scolds me and then turns me over his lap for a spanking, right in front of the tree. I wore some cute pajamas and pigtails and made quite a fuss about getting spanked on Christmas. Originally, I thought that the idea of getting spanked on a holiday was a bit dark, but the scene came out to be very sweet and cute, actually. I played my character as being greatly in need of a spanking, Christmas or not. It was the first time that Robert ever spanked me, but we had great chemistry on camera, I think.

I’m hiding the present I was opening behind my back and pretending to be innocent, but I’m somewhat delighted with my own mischief and can’t help but smile. I feel that this is a face that Paul probably sees from me on a pretty regular basis at home!

It’s Christmas! Who gets spanked on Christmas!? Soooo unfair!
Handprint!

That evening, I left to go back to NY, as I had a session the next day. I’m glad that Sarah and I finally got to spend some time together, and I feel that we really connected. I’m looking forward to doing more fun stuff with her in the near future! 😀♥

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A New Project and Some… Changes?

Published December 17, 2013

Hi hi hi!
So, today I was made aware that apparently I wasn’t just getting the aforementioned spanking for not having been keeping up with blogging, but instead, a “severe beating.” Um… *nervous lip biting* back to our regularly scheduled posting and let’s all forget about this incident? Does that sound good to you? Sounds good to me. ^_^

Anyway, I have exciting news to share 😀

Over the past couple of months, Paul and I have been working on a project together. I really like filming videos with him: this was, after all, our original interaction, and there’s nothing better than watching the dynamics between real partners on film. We obviously sometimes film together for Northern Spanking and we’ve done scenes for other sites but, once we moved in together, we wanted to start doing more scenes with just the two of us, and doing them in a more low-key, natural, domestic setting. We wanted to capture the energy of our household and our relationship and to explore many of the various facets there in. I wanted to be able to say “Haha, that would be a funny video, grab the camera and let’s do it RIGHT NOW!” We wanted things that were naturally occurring instead of being pre-designed. We wanted to be able to sometimes do scenes that weren’t necessarily spanking scenes. It was obvious that this content needed its own home on the internet.

We spent a while trying to come up with the name of our future site. Most of this time was spent with Paul asking me what I thought would be a good idea and me saying “I don’t know, I can’t think of anything.” I’m horrible at naming things. I felt impossibly clever when I came up with “Alex in Spankingland” (although it required encouragement from my friend Sophie to convince me that it seemed good to others instead of just me). If I hadn’t happened upon it, this blog would probably just be called “Spanking Alex.” Not very creative.

Paul was the one who came up with the name for new project: Kitchen Sink Spanking. The name derives from a genre of film, television and theater which was popular in the 1950’s and 60’s in England known as “kitchen sink realism.” This genre attempted to create stories which were depictions of the dramas, interpersonal relationships, highs and lows of the daily life of regular people, and were set in apartments or houses, often centering around the kitchen instead of requiring the creation of fancy sets. I think that this fits perfectly with the essence that we were trying to capture.

Everything that we’ve filmed thus far has been in our own home, and we do it with just the two of us there. As such, the camera sits on a tripod and we don’t use a lot of equipment. As such, the films have a very different feel than the formal shoots that we do, but it’s actually very enjoyable. I find them to be delightfully voyeuristic.

Are the films simply snippets from our every day life? Not exactly. I make no claims that these videos occurred naturally, or that they’re “reality porn.” We certainly don’t just set a camera up and go about our daily lives and then edit it down to the parts that include spanking. The clips vary in verisimilitude: some are more fun and allow me to engage in fun-for-everyone whining, foot stamping and petulance (this is fun for everyone… right?!). A couple are quite serious. I like this variety. The first film is a cute story about me being first introduced to a new DD relationship, complete with a lot of the aforementioned protestation and a hairbrush spanking. It’s the first one we filmed, and we had a lot of fun doing it. The second film follows the same story, but in addition to my getting spanked it includes me getting smacked with a kitchen implement on both the fronts and backs of my thighs. This was entirely unscripted. I was surprised by how the scene had become spontaneously worse. 😛 The third, still following the same tale, gives rise to this adorable sadface:

There’s one which is goddamn adorable and simply a replay of a scene which actually happened, in which I went to Zeki’s house, made cookies with her and returned with only the tale of how good they were for Paul, who was clearly in need of biscuits. Justice was served instead:

As we went on making the videos, we started making upskirt films, which I find delightfully naughty and which excite my exhibitionist streak. There are a couple of harder scenes, and then there’s something… different. Over the course of the past eighteen months, my relationship between sexuality and kink has been developing quite a bit. While I previously described these drives as being separate and parallel, as I grew more comfortable with myself and began to have partners who were both involved in my kink life and my sex life, this division slowly began to breakdown. There’s a LOT of writing to be done about this, but 2:00 AM while seated on Sarah Gregory’s couch is neither the time nor place to attempt to tackle this topic. Suffice to say, I’ve begun to enjoy certain combinations of these activities. As such, I decided that I wanted to make my first blatantly sexually charged video. The video is actually quite intense: it’s a disciplinary caning which has a lot of energy, and which stirs up a lot of emotion in me. My bottom was already sore when we filmed this, and the strokes are hard. I cry and wail and get rather pathetic. Throughout the entire scene, though, I was very… er… aroused (and I’m very embarrassed to admit this!) and once my punishment was complete, I went to my room to fix this condition in myself. I must admit, I haven’t watched it (it makes me feel very awkward to think about doing so!), but it’s my only masturbation film out there, and it’s entirely genuine. Curious? Feel free to check it out, and I’ll have more writing about sexy-kink times later.

I do have this deep fear that people will be upset about this change in me, but it was no longer genuine to perpetuate the idea that there are no longer situations where spanking is sexual for me. I hope you all still like me, even though I no longer have a hardline stance on this issue. 🙂

I hope you consider checking out the site, as I’m quite pleased with the results myself!
Now, it’s off to the bath, and then some glorious sleep! ♥

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Gratitude

Published December 11, 2013

It’s been a little while since I posted: long enough, in fact, that I’ve earned myself a spanking. Maybe I’ll film it and post it here. That would be fair, wouldn’t it?  It was my intention to do a Thanksgiving post, but holiday posts are always difficult for me because I am busy celebrating and don’t want to tear myself away from festivities to sit in my office and write something. This post, however, got significantly away from me because I’ve been keeping myself as busy as humanly possible recently, although half of it has been with epically fun things. But I’ve started this, so dammit, I’m going to finish it!

Thanksgiving this year was significant for a fistful of reasons. For one, it was Paul’s first Thanksgiving ever, which made it special! It was also our first real holiday together as a couple: we were together on Halloween but I had a horrible ear infection (I know, adults don’t usually get those. Read what you will about me from this, I guess) and we had to spend the night quietly at home. Finally, Thanksgiving was the last day before Paul left to go back to England for a couple of months: he’s gone until February. As such, it was important that we spend lots of positive time together before he left!

Our Thanksgiving was certainly a bit non-traditional. It was our original intention to go to my mom’s house for the holiday, but since Paul had to leave the next day, that was already sort of in question. Then my mom fell and broke her hip, and she’s been in a recovery facility ever since so she didn’t want to have a bunch of people visiting. My mom and I have had a difficult relationship over the years, but it’s been much better recently. That said, she’s had an awful few years. Two years ago last month, my oldest brother passed away from AIDS. Last October, my family home was swept out to sea in Hurricane Sandy and we lost pretty much everything. My mom was displaced and living with friends for over a year. Just as she was getting ready to move into her new house, she fell and broke her hip. Add on top of this the fact that she has Lupus, and it’s remarkable she makes it through the days. Anyway, I decided to go visit her in a more low-key environment later because that worked out much better for everyone. So, on Thanksgiving, Paul was not introduced to the madness of my extended family which meant that no one got ridiculously drunk, no one tried to sell us Avon products, there were no pregnant teenagers, everyone was properly showered, we had one pie instead of eight, nothing was cooked in a coffee can and all persons at the dinner table believed that the Earth rotates around the Sun.

It also meant that we could just be ourselves, and do things the way we pleased to instead of the way we were “supposed to.” This meant that before I even started cooking dinner on Thanksgiving, I had a Final Exam. This started months ago, during our trip to Colorado, with a book about Bears. I’m obsessed with bears. Obsesssssssssssssssssed. I just think that they’re the cutest animal ever. The fact that I visited a bear park on multiple occasions and even got to pet an infant bear cub has only increased my excessive fondness. When we were staying in the mountains, it was my greatest hope that I would encounter a bear (at a safe distance, of course). We never did, although we did see some adorable wild elk with fuzzy, velvety antlers and a couple of gophers/woodchucks/groundhogs/generic small chumbly creatures. In place of a real life bear encounter, Paul bought me a book full of delightful bear photographs and chock full of important facts about my favorite fuzzy friends. When we were apart, I found myself reading it as I fell asleep and remembering our trip together, and soon my trivial and useless bear knowledge was getting excessive. Did you know that baby Black Bears (Ursus americanus) cubs spend up to 60% of their time in trees, and often nap or sleep up there? That some subspecies of the Brown Bear (Ursus arctus) include the Grizzly Bear and the Kodiak Bear? That the darkness of a North American bear’s fur is in direct proportion to the dampness of the climate in which it lives? I was probably insufferable if I got started talking about this. One day, a friend came to visit and brought up the fact that bears can climb trees (HE brought it up!) and I had to sit on my hands and force myself not to turn the next hour into Bearfacts o’clock.

So, it was decided (probably mostly by me, to be honest) that I should have an exam about bears. It would combine my never ending desire to play school with my new found obsession. Paul wrote the test and I studied, taking 12 pages of handwritten notes to review from. On Thanksgiving, I did a last minute cram before I donned a school uniform, got out my pencil case and sat at the kitchen table to write the exam:

I’m wearing a tie. This makes me fancy.

Once I had completed a page of short answer questions and written a two page essay about the process of hibernation, Paul took my paper into his study to grade. Giddy from the fun I had with this sort of play, I then put an apron on (yes, right over my uniform!) and started to make dinner. Since there were only two of us, we ended up having a roast chicken instead of a turkey, but I made it with (what I consider) traditional breadcrumb stuffing. I also made mashed potatoes, carrots, corn bread and a from scratch apple pie. It was a feast for the two of us, and everything turned out wonderfully.

As I cooked, in the kitchen of my sweet little house, feeling happy and healthy and safe, I was very aware of how much I had to be grateful for. I live in a place which truly feels like my home and I spend my time with people who love me and with whom I can be myself completely. I have a job which I adore and which allows me to do the things I’m most passionate about while meeting and getting to know lots of new people. The weather is so warm that in November, I was still constantly getting scolded for walking outside without putting on shoes. I have my cats, and they’re adorable and make me happy. I’m in love with someone who loves me back, and who values and respects me and who instead of saying “Stop being so weird, Alex?” takes delight in the things that make me giddy and writes me exams about bears.

In a certain way, all this was bittersweet because the next afternoon, Paul would be leaving for 2+ months, and I certainly had the impulse to be a mopey moper about it, but I kept myself focused on the fact that my life was beyond what had been my wildest dreams and I’m glad for these things. Dinner was lovely, and afterwards, we snuggled for a long time while we digested. Later that evening, it was time for the Spanksgiving part of Thanksgiving. 🙂 By then, my feelings had built up quite a bit, and I felt delicate and vulnerable. It had been Paul’s original intention to have an intense and severe scene that night, addressing some of the issues that had remained written in my book and for which I had yet to be punished. I felt nervous and apprehensive about this, and I guess it showed in my reactions to things, because before I had a chance to bring up how I was feeling, Paul asked me if I still wanted to do a scene.

My initial response was “No, I feel too vulnerable.” This was accompanied by a lot of feelings. Sometimes, submission can be horribly confusing, despite all the time I’ve spent ruminating about it. On one level, I want my Dominant to make the choices about what happens. I’m scared of the accusation of topping from the bottom. I have a fear that expressing my feelings and desires for the way that we play will “ruin” things, that I should accept what I get instead of communicating what I want or need. I also have a tendency to feel embarrassed by my emotions, no matter what they are. None of this stuff is healthy, and I’m not proud to admit it, but these are things that developed in my brain over the past couple of years. As soon as I voiced my opinion, I started to cry and apologize, anxiously hiding my face. Paul pulled me up into his arms and spoke to me soothingly, assuring me that I didn’t need to feel that way and that he never judged me for what I felt or needed. As I tried to calm, I was surprised by how much of a need to cry was left inside of me. “I just feel like I’ll come completely apart,” I confided. After a moment, I added “Maybe I need that.” Ultimately, we came to the conclusion that I did need a hard scene, but not a punitive one, and we decided to do an arbitrary scene.

A bit later, Paul put me over his lap and began to spank me. It was probably not particularly hard, but due to my emotional state, I soon started to cry again. In the middle of it, he paused and asked “Who do you belong to, Alex?” and I melted into a passive and tranquil state. This is something that pretty much always works for me (when playing with someone to whom I belong, of course!) as it makes me feel owned, loved, cared for and treasured while simultaneously making me feel very passive, safe and small. I probably cooed my response.

Shortly after this, I got a caning. The strokes were hard and the cane in question is dense and bitey, and I had little resistance left to offer between my vulnerable state and my heightened feeling of submission. This didn’t mean I took the strokes well, though: I cried and wailed, sometimes sobbing so hard that I made myself cough. At one point, Paul had to pause to give me a cup of water because I think he thought I was choking. When it was finished, I felt warm and swollen, but entirely refreshed (once I cut through the haze of “I can’t brain!” that happens when someone tries to talk to me right after a hard scene). As I curled up on his lap, I knew that everything was going to be okay and that while I’d be inevitably sad and lonely while he was away, that I was always protected and I always belonged. ♥

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Heavy Play: My Perspective

Published November 27, 2013

Warning: this post contains images taken after some of my hardest scenes. They include significant bruising, welting, broken skin and sometimes wet blood. The second post in this series (coming soon) does not include images or anecdotal discussion and focuses more on the concepts behind Heavy Play. I don’t recommend this post to those that are squeamish (Not Safe For Erica!). I do hope that lots of people read the other post, because I think the information contained within it is important.

When I first started getting spanked, I had no perception of how hard my playing was. SF, my first Top, also spanked his wife, Audiens, and my friend, V. Between the three of us, I was the one who he spanked the least severely. He and his wife were obviously playing on a totally different level, and V. was always very interested in pushing limits and trying new things, which I felt no need for any of that. I never compared myself to either Audiens or V. in terms of the way we played with SF. It didn’t matter to me. We were all different, so we played in different ways. The kind of playing that I was doing was satisfying to me at the time and that was all that mattered. I watched spanking videos pretty regularly, but I didn’t compare myself to those girls, either, because in a certain way they didn’t seem real to me. Comparing myself to a video would be like comparing what I actually did in real life to what happened in my fantasies in terms of severity. It didn’t make sense to me to do that, so I didn’t.

My perception of a scale of how hard my play was compared to other people developed pretty instantly when I got on Fetlife. Suddenly, I was aware of the way that a lot of different people got spanked. I saw photos of other girls’ spanked bottoms, some red, some pink, some with bruises, others welted. I had no photos of my spanked bottom. I had never taken one. But I started to compare my memory of my bruised bottom to what I saw in these pictures. I must have been getting spanked much harder than so-and-so, I thought, because I look much more reddened after a spanking than she does there. Other times, I saw welts and bruises and thought I’ve never been spanked that hard. I didn’t yet know that everyone shows marking differently, and that the longer you play, the less you color and bruise. I just thought that there was a scale: light pink meant hardly spanked. Deep purple meant the most severe.

It was literally the first day that I was on Fetlife that I started comparing myself to others in terms of severity of play. Right away, I had it in my mind that it was best to be a harder player. I don’t know what made me think that, but I absolutely did. The harder you got spanked, the more marked you were, the longer your scenes were, the more severe your implements, then the better. I used to follow someone on Fetlife who just posted picture after picture of extremely severe spankings which he had given. His gallery was just a row of butt shot after butt shot, each with the same background, each with similar purple bruising, “bullseye” marks and uniform bright redness. I didn’t feel any sort of connection with the person who gave these spankings, and I didn’t like the way that he seemed to objectify the girls that he had spanked but I felt terribly intrigued by the images. In my mind, they were some of the “best spankings.” I looked at them over and over.  I’d previously felt entirely satisfied with a long, hard, over-the-knee hand spanking which left my bottom looking bright red and often bruised me the next day, and which would nearly always reduce me to tears. Once I started to compare myself to others, once I started to focus on hard play as a goal, that suddenly seemed far from impressive to me.

This is the first photo of my spanked bottom that I ever took. I obviously didn’t know how to take photos of my own butt back then. I also still had a flip phone. Aww. Bless.

When I started to actually talk to people in the scene, it got even worse. There was something so intoxicating about the way that people talked about really severe scenes. They obviously loved them. At the time that my submission was first crystalizing, I heard a lot of stories of very hard play. The two Tops that I talked to the most at that point were both sadists who had done some very, very extreme play. They sometimes described scenes that I would never actually want for myself (scenes that involved intentionally going far beyond the point of broken skin, for example, or which were entirely unrelated to spanking but very intense) and made it sound like they were so proud of those girls and that they earned lots of love and attention by doing them (I was at a point in my development where the idea of needing to earn love and attention seemed acceptable). Some people talked about it like it WAS a contest: one Top referred to the girl with whom he had played the most severely as being the “Gold Medal Winner.” Even though I wasn’t interested in doing the things those girls had done, I found myself feeling jealous when I heard about them. Maybe I was jealous that they were the favorite one. Maybe I was jealous because they were able to enjoy something that I knew I never would do. It was a confusing emotion: being jealous of someone for having done something that you didn’t want to do.

By the time that Malignus and I first met, I hadn’t been seriously spanked in probably six months or so. It hadn’t been so bad to not be getting spanked when I was deeply immersed in vanilla life, but when I was exploring the scene, it had become agonizing. What I wanted was to be spanked very, very hard, very, very often. I by no means think that this desire wasn’t genuine, or that it was a bad thing. It’s just what I was focused on then. If you were to ask me to describe what I wanted from any given scene in one word, I would have picked “intensity.”

My first few scenes that fell into that category left me incredibly marked:

That giant bandaid is covering a patch of damaged skin.

This took place a couple days later: you can see that the area the bandaid was covering has opened up again.

My legs are healing after my second visit to Malignus’.  You can sort of see the gauze bandages that are covering the areas where my skin was damaged through my panties. My panties are expressing how I felt about that kind of play.

There’s another photo which I’m not going to post. Do you remember when I was giving tips about how to care for your bottom after a spanking a long time ago? I mentioned that you should not exfoliate, even using a wiping motion with a washcloth, directly after a scene or else all your skin will come off. This photo shows that phenomenon. You probably don’t want to see that.

Anyway, I eventually reached a point where hard play didn’t really mark me very much. It primarily just broke my skin, if anything. This meant that light and moderate play didn’t mark me at all, which became an asset to me when I began doing video work but was rather disappointing when I finished a scene that I felt had been severe and I wanted to share that with people but my bottom and thighs just looked like a light, rosy pink. There were other consequences from my hard play, though. For one, I got so used to heavy play that I could hardly enjoy light play anymore. This was caused by a combination of factors: for one thing, I think that a lot of my nerve endings just died and I hardly felt spankings anymore. For another, my skin had hardened and gotten leathery: this is why I got so involved in figuring out ways to restore my skin to it’s ideal state (which I’m happy to say isn’t a problem anymore). Things just hurt less the longer I engaged in hard play, especially hard play without warmups and cool downs (which was almost always what Malignus and I did).
My scale changed, too. Before, I only needed a hand spanking to bring me to tears. A hairbrush spanking on the backs of my thighs was the worst consensual pain I’d ever felt. That scale was very small, so a hard hand spanking that might include the backs of my legs was very close to the hardest thing I had ever felt. Once I began playing in very severe ways, that same spanking hardly meant anything to me anymore. It was the difference between 3 and 10 and 3 and 100. In the second case, 3 actually becomes quite insignificant seeming.

My emotional stance on things changed, too. My feelings about severe play and intimacy got kind of mixed up. Presently, I find that severe play is often extremely intimate, but is not inherently so. I also find that a huge spectrum of other activities can be similar expressions of intimacy. None the less, there was a period of time where I really only felt like I was making an emotionally intimate connection with my partner if it was being done through very severe scenes. I think part of this comes from the fact that at the time, I was in a relationship which was much less tactile than what I now know I really require to thrive. The connection that I felt during the severe play fed my hunger for all sorts of physical connection, but because it was one of the only things which really did, an excessive emphasis on this was placed in my mind. A tender hand-spanking didn’t leave me feeling fulfilled, it left me anxiously wondering why I wasn’t getting more than that.
So, for all these reasons, I was particularly caught up in playing very hard. When I first started to go to parties, I sought out scenes that would be similarly severe whenever I could, even if I didn’t have any sort of connection with the Top. Over the past year or so of our relationship, my play relationship with my ex went largely into decline. Things changed between us. This lead to much more infrequent scenes. My interest in finding other play partners who would push me past my limits was intensified. I don’t know if it’s even accurate to say “push me past my limits” because I stopped really having a sense of what my personal physical limits were. I wanted to be pushed past the limits that I perceived existed for others. I wanted to be pushed past “the” limit.

The decline in how often and how hard I was playing at home (and, admittedly, how much time I actually spent at home as I began to live out of my suitcase since there wasn’t any work in my field in South Dakota) lead to a number of changes. I regained my physical sensitivity. I got away from my tunnel vision which focused on severity and intensity as the important factors in play. I treated my skin so it was no longer calloused, nor was it at risk of becoming so again. Spankings became more physically painful for me, and I often made myself more emotionally vulnerable to them. This meant that I had stronger reactions to lesser scenes. I slowly worked my way back to a place similar to where I had started: where it didn’t take all that much to leave me feeling satisfied.

The beauty of having gone through this journey is that I now have the best of both worlds. I can play hard. Very hard. Sometimes, I am tremendously gratified by doing very severe, incredibly intense scenes. They mean a lot to me. They give me an exhilarating and unforgettable experience. The difference is that now, I don’t need to play that hard. There have been several times recently where Paul made me cry just by giving me a hard spanking by hand. That feels right to me. It makes me feel incredibly vulnerable to be able to let an experience that’s so core to my kink, but which had previously become less potent for me, entirely overtake me.

I’m not sure what happened to my competitive nature. It certainly still exists in a number of other facets of my life, and I’m still obviously insecure about a lot of things but when it comes to spankings, I don’t feel the need to prove myself anymore. There are bottoms out there taking things that are much more severe than anything I’ve ever taken. When I see photos of it, or read about it on blogs, I feel glad that they’re exploring things that interest them and sometimes a little bit concerned, if the practices don’t seem safe to me, but that’s all. When I read some of my own, older blog posts, I can see the way that I’ve changed in this department and I like it.

Because I’ve had (and continue to have) quite a bit of first hand experience with harder play, at some point in the near future, I’m going to be posting a set of notes with suggestions regarding things to consider when playing to a high level of physical intensity. I hope that at least a few people will find them useful.

Now, it’s time for me to go play Pokemon until I fall asleep. ♥

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KOTW: Punishment- The Fun Kind

Published November 17, 2013

Last time that I posted, it was about my real-life punishment dynamics. This week’s KOTW (kink of the week) topic is Funishment, or play punishment. This a wonderfully related topic which allows me to continue on my previous train-of-thought. (Thanks, Jade!)

As I stated last post, I didn’t start out in the scene with any kind of dynamic that included play-punishment, or really, play spankings of any kind. Spankings were srs business only. When I started to play with my previous play partner, J, we never had any sort of disciplinary relationship, or any kind of power-exchange at all. It took a while for me to get used to this, at first. The spankings kind of just “happened.” I came over and we talked and cuddled, then he spanked me because he liked spanking girls and I wanted to be spanked. Afterwards, I would usually make him some kind of baked good, often without returning to my proper state of dress so he could watch me bob around his kitchen in an apron with my red, swollen bottom on display. It was a great tradition, and I loved those scenes, but it often left me feeling unfulfilled, like something was missing from the interaction that we had just had.

One day, I came over and J. suggested that we do a roleplay scene instead of our “usual.” I felt really hesitant about this. “I don’t even know how to do that,” I remember saying nervously. I had never done anything even vaguely like this before, and I was afraid that I’d somehow fail miserably at it and “ruin” the scene. J. coaxed me into it, suggesting that we play a scene in which my character had similar traits to the ones that I was expressing: nervousness and apprehension are by no means uncommon parts of a lot of spanking scenarios. So we decided to do a scene in which a girl who had never been spanked before was being punished afterschool by a teacher for consistently being late to class. Now, this scene seems so typical and almost unexciting, but at the time, my heart raced. I went into the other room, and we agreed that when I came back in, we’d begin playing.

I stood at the door with my hand on the knob, trying to channel my personal jitteriness into that which I felt belonged to my character. The scene was actually very similar to the things that I had fantasized about for a long time, so I knew how I expected it to go, but I couldn’t quite relax. I stood there waiting for a good five minutes before I came out. J. was sitting on the sofa wearing dress pants, a button-up shirt and a tie. I felt my stomach twitch when I saw his serious, annoyed looking facial expression.

“This meeting started five minutes ago, Alex,” he chided. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to be late to a discussion about your tardiness?”

I felt my face grow hot and I looked down at the ground, nervously twirling my hair and fiddling with a stray string on my dress. “Sorry,” was all I managed. I felt unsure about “how I was doing” as a roleplayer, but I felt very immersed in the scene, transfixed by J.’s tone.

J. continued to lecture me, being stern and giving plenty of details about the things that I had done. He was amazing at thinking things up on the fly, and I found myself responding easily and naturally. When it was time for the actual spanking, he pulled me over his lap forcefully and lifted my dress as I gasped and protested. I had never really protested against a spanking before. My attitude towards them had always been passivity, but here, it didn’t only feel acceptable to protest, it felt right. J. smacked the back of my leg, hard and corrected me for that sort of behavior and began to give me a flurry of hard spanks, scolding me about how I needed to get myself together and take things seriously instead of flitting around the school in a disorganized mess. It was actually during this spanking, as I was kicking and writhing and J. was pinning me down and punctuating his stern words with firm smacks that I realized what had been missing from my previous scenes with him: energy.

There’s a certain energy and drama and that comes from the dance of scolding and protesting that simply isn’t there in other kinds of spankings. Some atmospheres create a strong but different energy, like the reaffirmative spankings that I mentioned before, which focus on giving an intense reminder of each partner’s role in the dynamic, or spankings that are done for emotional release (“just because you need to be beaten”) or as a love act. I love these sorts of scenes, and I do enjoy having entirely arbitrary “just for the love of spanking” scenes now and again, too, but my mind draws itself back to punishment scenarios again and again and again.

J. and I had a successful first roleplay, and we began doing more and more scenes like that, sometimes following up on others which we had done earlier. Still, we played infrequently and mixed our previous “standard” play with the roleplay punishments, so I probably only did a total of ten roleplays before I moved.

Malignus and I never roleplayed together. In fact, we very rarely engaged in play-punishment of any kind, as I felt like I wasn’t being sufficiently submissive if I intentionally misbehaved, and he tended to respond to things like that with removal of attention instead of “feeding into it” by punishing the perpetrator. During this time I became very focused on the idea of being a good girl and being as submissive as possible, so when I went to my first spanking get together, I felt at a loss as the other girls ran around doing complex pranks. A friend who was similarly into being good and I made an attempt at hiding an implement at one point, but we ended up wussing out and returned it to it’s rightful place. I received no play punishment spankings at that party.

When I went to my first national spanking party later that year (TASSP), I was very nervous about how I was supposed to act. The first night, I found myself sitting with Pandora Blake on the floor of Joe and Ten’s suite, having a conversation about this. I expressed my concerns about not knowing how to “brat” and Pandora gave me suggestions based on her experience. We came to the conclusion that intentional misbehavior can’t be too annoying, can’t be actually malicious or damaging to people or things and should be clever and/or funny. With this in mind, we got a magic marker from somewhere and crawled over to where IMLX was seated and began drawing cats on the bottom of his bare foot. IMLX and I knew each other from the internet and I knew that he was good natured, so he seemed like a good candidate for our naughtiness. It took him a surprisingly long time to realize that cats were being drawn on his foot. I don’t know what that says about him as a person. 😛 When he did figure it out, he playfully spanked both of us, scolding us (including in Russian!) for being naughty, cat-on-foot-drawing girls. It was seriously playfully, and I was seriously pleased.

Overtime, I sort of grew into myself in this regard, and began to figure out ways to initiate playfully punitive scenes. Sometimes I planned roleplay scenarios with people that I liked. Other times, I just whined a little. This seemed to work wonders. 😛

My bottom after one such play punishment!

My play punishment life took a turn for the “more frequent” when I became friends with Bad Alex. Why? Because Bad Alex is fucking Bad, and she’s amazingly good at it. Her mind is a machine that takes a simple idea and turns it into the most trouble possible. Besides being good at raising hell and getting herself spanked, she’s also magically able to get me into play-trouble to degrees that I’ve never known were possible. For example, at BBW she set things up so I got 16 strokes of the cane because she punched me in the knee. That’s talent right there. I’m still kinda reeling from that almost a year later.

When in the “principal’s office” and her partner in crime, cutieotk is about to get paddled, Bad Alex thinks it’s a good time to play Rude Hand Gesture Bingo.

Bad Alex and I like to roleplay together. While some of the roleplays that I do are dark and serious, the ones that include both the Alexes are always kind of off the wall. For example, at July’s Crimson Moon party, we played a scene with our friend Jon83 in which we were sisters who had been caught cutting school to go to the mall by our father. I really like roleplaying with Alex when we’re not even caught yet: we just banter back and forth as misbehaving girls and giggle an awful lot. When we came back to our hotel room (in the pretend, our home) after having snuck out of school, we were greeted by Jon, who was none to pleased with us. We then started to try to lie our way out of things. My lies were things like “We just ran home to get our books!” but Alex’s were things like “It’s National Alex Day! No one with our name is allowed at school! We have the day off!” This threw me into a fit of hysterics, and it reminded me of a detail that had never been discussed: we were supposed to be sisters of the same age with the same name. We made a series of jokes back and forth to each other as we tried to figure out why this was until Jon sent Bad Alex to the corner to separate us, pointing to her and saying “That one! Go to the corner!”

This was the only time in my life that I laughed while getting a hard paddling.

We’ve done other, really fun scenes since then, and we currently have a ridiculously fun roleplay in the planning stages. It involves us pretending to get kicked out of someplace and needing to be picked up by our angry authority figures, who will then scold us all the way home before punishing us quite severely. In a Fetlife conversation on the subject, Bad Alex stated that she had been DOING RESEARCH into ways that we could get into trouble there.

Bad Alex is a winner

When I first started playing with Paul, I had very conflicting feelings about play punishment. At that point in my life, I had never had a D/s relationship which included funishment: these had always been two separate things. Serious disciplinary and D/s relationships vs. fun play partners and Tops with whom I could do roleplays and non-serious, play punishment scenes. Because I felt a strong and very real sense of submission towards Paul (which I had been aware of from the very first time that we played) I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to try to engage in intentional naughtiness to earn fun spankings. It took a while before I realized that this was totally acceptable, helped along the way by the fact that Mila and I really started harassing each other in sisterly antics at that time and Paul happily took to scolding me for things like “internet hair pulling.”

By the time that we had our cabin visit my desire to play in this way exploded. Still keeping in mind the principles which Pandora and I had identified, I spent the whole time messing around. Sometimes when I wanted to be spanked (which was most of the time) I would just directly (although very coyly) ask for it. Usually, though, I expressed this want by doing slightly naughty things: climbing on the furniture when there was a sign that said I couldn’t, replacing the sign with another one which said I could, naming a chair after Mila and kicking it, opening a desk drawer while I was sitting on his lap at the desk, finding a piece of chalk and using it to draw on the back of his black shirt et cetera. Usually, these things were met with playful, often affectionate spankings that had the “you’re a naughty girl” type of attitude but were ultimately just-for-fun. They were hard enough, mind you, but I only ever felt enough like I was in trouble for it to be exciting, not to tap into that set of emotions discussed before.

Following one such spanking at the cabin!

Occasionally, these scenes were more physically severe. One day, after the chalk had been taken away, I opened the same drawer during the same sort of cuddle to find a few paperclips, which I clipped to Paul’s shirt collar. Seeming unamused (in a way that I could tell was not genuine displeasure) he called it “abuse of stationary”. I called this “bogus.” He produced a hairbrush. First, though, he pulled me over his lap on the sofa and spanked my bottom quite hard with his hand, then he moved on to smack the backs of my thighs. It was hard and thorough, and he was stern and strict with me. I was crying quite earnestly by the time that he had finished with my thighs, but he still continued to get the hairbrush and apply it quite effectively as well. I was a mess of tears when it was done, and in a certain way, I felt legitimately contrite, even though I hadn’t done anything. It was like I had the relief and security of having been punished without any of the most unenjoyable parts of it, as I knew Paul wasn’t actually disappointed in me for wasting paperclips. The spanking was followed with the same snuggles that would come after a real punishment spanking, and I was left feeling blissful and loved.

Now that we’re living together, play punishment is a rather big part of the daily routine that Paul and I have developed. Sometimes it’s a quick and lighthearted spanking for something like walking outside barefoot and getting leaves all over my feet (which was delivered in the backyard, by the way. Oh the embarrassment!) and other times it’s more emotionally intense and physically severe, like the paperclip scene. Still other times, we engage in roleplaying just-for-fun, but with a punishment scenario (such as a scene where when Paul went away to find something to spank me with, I hid in the other room’s closet and might have at least gotten away with it for a few minutes if my cat hadn’t sat himself down in front of the door and meowed loudly until Paul came and dragged me out).

Ultimately, play punishment is now up there with “reaffirmative” for my favorite day-to-day style of spanking. Besides just being fun, it also opens up the door to a lot of possibilities. For example, I feel horrible about myself if I don’t take a real punishment spanking well. If I protest, or move out of position, or make too big of a fuss I just feel terrible inside afterwards, like I didn’t properly atone for the original misdeed and I’m still being a disappointment (note: I’m not made to feel this way. It’s just residual insecurity). During a play punishment, though, I can happily enjoy thrashing around, resisting, protesting, shouting “No! No! No! No!” and otherwise doing everything in my power not to take my spanking well. It’s delightful to be overpowered, to have my protests fall on deaf ears and to be MADE to take the rest of it. It’s also wonderfully exciting to play with non-consensual themes during roleplay which I obviously wouldn’t be exploring in any other way. There’s something invigorating and yes, sexy (gasp!) about that. ♥

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Alex

Los Angeles, California, United States

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

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