I’ve never let this blog sit around uncared for for such a long time. I finally have the basic pieces of my life in order now, though: my house is nearly unpacked, I have most of the furniture that I require and all of my appliances, my cats are happily adjusted to the new home and, perhaps most importantly, I finally have internet. It took them two weeks to get around to setting it up. It was ridiculous. I got tremendously behind on everything that I needed to do, since nearly all of it involves being online.
I’m finally getting caught up now. It’s very time consuming.
But life is good.
Paul and I are growing into a comfortable lifestyle as things get settled. Like everyone else in the world, we spend most of our days doing our respective jobs, but we both do large parts of that from home so we spend a lot of time together. I make dinner nearly every night and do lots of baking, which makes me happy. Between work and chores and making cookies, there’s time for me to do the silly things that I like, such as drawing with sidewalk chalk, chasing my cats around and doing craft projects such as making foxes out of paper.
|Two dozen cookies from scratch, one dozen foxes from construction paper|
After I made them, Paul used string to carefully hang them from the weeping branches of the tree in our yard, whose trunk is wrapped with tiny, solar powered Christmas lights. Our mail box is matte black, so I color on it with the sidewalk chalk. We have a pumpkin on our stoop and yellow flowers growing in a planter. It’s so incredibly obvious that I live here. It’s a very happy house.
Paul and I have grown very comfortably into having D/s as part of our daily lives instead of maintaining a long distance relationship, probably partially because the foundation that we built during the time that we were long distance was so strong. Aiding in the ease of this transition is the fact that we both have a very strong and well defined idea of what we want from one such relationship and that those ideas are very much in line (see also, our compatibility). I’m sure that being seriously in love doesn’t hurt, either.
Just as our daily life has become very domesticated, our daily kink life has, too, in a way that I find infinitely comforting. Spanking fits into our daily life seamlessly. It’s the most natural thing in the world. Our bedtime ritual involves me getting spanked each night as a re-affirmative act, but spankings just happen throughout the day, too, whether it’s taking a break from work for spontaneous play or setting time aside to address something more serious.
Interestingly, now that I’m living in a location where I have a lot more kinky friends and scene activities to participate in, I’ve found myself much more involved and interested in my vanilla life. I’ve been reconnecting with old friends, doing personal writing projects, doing craft projects, doing more baking and more experimental cooking and just generally rediscovering interests that I had put aside.
One thing that I really like is walking. That sounds like a very lame thing to like, doesn’t it? I do, though. In college, Zeki and I used to walk huge distances, sometimes passing through two or three towns, or even out of the county. We’d talk and share stories. Some of our best mutual ideas were fostered during these walks. Other days, I would walk by myself, usually on a shady trail that followed the Bronx River. I would get deeply involved in daydreaming and often make up spanking stories in my head or review others that I really enjoyed, sometimes from films, sometimes from my own limited experiences with SF.
The other day I decided to go take a walk, since I needed to talk to someone on the phone I get antsy when I’m just sitting still when I’m on the phone. Paul was working in the study, so I told him I’d be back shortly. I did plan to be back shortly. Maybe I didn’t really plan at all, because I was wearing jelly flip-flops and I didn’t have any water with me and it was a particularly dry, hot day. None the less, my conversation ended pretty quickly, but I kept walking for a while, daydreaming happily like I used to do. I realized that I was walking in the direction of a particular major road where Target is located, and I decided that it would be neat if I walked all the way there. It’s about a mile away from my house, so it was certainly feasible– I’ve done 8 – 10 mile walks in the past. I needed to go there anyway, and I estimated that I was about halfway there already. I’d walk the rest of the way, get the hangers I needed and then walk home.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t actually walking the way that I thought I was.
Two miles later, I was hot, dehydrated and tired. My feet were incredibly sore and seriously blistered. I decided that I needed to give up and turn around.
I tried to walk home, but I got about six blocks before I realized that there was no way I could possibly do that. I was tired. I needed a drink. This was a stupid idea.
I slowly began to realize how poorly I had planned this. Why did I think it was a good idea to walk in the heat without water or proper shoes? I hadn’t even told Paul where I was going, and he was under the impression I was going to be back shortly. I realized that I’d been gone for nearly an hour. Under the strap of my sandal, my feet looked like they were about to bleed.
It was then that I realized I was going to have to ask Paul to come get me in the car. It was also then that I realized that I was probably going to be in pretty serious trouble. Taking care of myself is pretty much rule #1. This was a serious failure in that department.
Paul agreed to come get me without really saying anything about it, but as soon as I got into the car, I knew that he was seriously displeased with me.
“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.
Part of our protocol surrounding scenes is that I always thank him for spanking me. This is something that I initiated because it makes me feel very submissive in the best way. After being soundly punished I felt a bit shy to say this this time, but I managed it out in a coy whisper. “Good girl,” he told me, kissing my forehead. I sat there on his lap for a long time, entirely vulnerable, my bottom aching and burning but my tears drying. I felt lucky to be so loved. I was filled with contentment.
Finally, I felt calm enough to get up and get myself properly cleaned up. I rinsed my feet off and then climbed into a cool bath, the water still feeling tingly and antagonistic against my welts. I was glad, though. I didn’t want them to be fully soothed. I didn’t stop to take a picture of the lines, but they were impressive: perfectly parallel and close enough together that they very nearly touched, but not quite.
Anyway, I’m back now. I’ll be updating one to two times a week, as I used to. I’ve missed writing, and I hope you’ve missed reading.♥
I’ve had a problem ever since TASSP.
I’ve wanted to write about other things, but I’ve felt guilty because there was so much that I *could* write about from TASSP, so I’ve insisted that I won’t write about anything else until TASSP has been completed. Now, we’re left a month after the party with very few posts to my blog since it indeed, only one short installment of the tale completed and several significant things, such as my very exciting Mad Scientist Roleplay Scenario and my twenty fifth birthday entirely unmentioned.
I really love blogging, but I’ve been disappointingly without discipline with regards to it recently, and the longer I go without writing, the harder it is to start again, especially when it seems like every entry I’m promising to do better at it and then not writing the next day. I had a long conversation with Scotchgrove tonight, part of which focused on this not blogging business. He decided that due to my current schedule, I should be able to post to my blog daily, and he’s decided to hold me to this standard (remember, he is The Boss of Me).
|For those who may have been confused|
So, in order to get the ball rolling on this new dedication to posting every day, I’m going to start to finish telling you about TASSP. Honestly, it’s been a bit of time, and I don’t really remember the order in which everything happened, so it may just be my best approximation in that regard. I’d also like to add that it’s going on 3:00 AM while I’m writing this and I’m suffering from insomnia, so it’s likely that this won’t be my most clear or articulate post.
Following the naughty school girl party, I had planned to do a mass school girl shoot with my very excellent friend, Ten Amorette, her partner and another excellent friend, drlectr and a gaggle of amazing spanking models. Unfortunately, I arrived to this shoot somewhat late due to a failure to communicate about when, exactly, the naughty school girl party ended, since I ducked out with Heather to make sure that she was all set for her shoot and stuff (alright, because I was a bit attached at the hip with her after having not seen her for a month. She is, after all, my best friend!) and I ended up being somewhat late. I arrived to find that the filming had already started. This was easily taken care of, however. The plot of the scene involved a group of girls getting busted for having a keg and drinking in their room, and so my character simply walked in looking for the beer, only to find a very angry principal yielding a paddle. The fact that I never got to taste any of that beer didn’t excuse me from getting a series of hard swats!
I love filming with a large group of models because we all start playing off each other and one thing leads to another. It becomes full of energy and very authentic. I also love filming with Ten, because she’s pretty much the most fun person ever, and she constantly cracks me up with her antics when she’s in character. This video will be being released for free, so once it is, I’ll make mention of it here and give you lovely people a link. It’s certainly something worth watching (probably again, and again, and again).
Later that night, I attended a dinner during which mashed potatoes were served in martini glasses (which was a bit confusing but still quite delicious) and my dinner entertainment included watching Amelia Jane Rutherford get a paddling. “The English girls” (as people tended to refer to Pandora and Amelia) were very fascinated with the American style paddles– in England, most people’s definition of a paddle is some lovely leather thing, and the two of them seemed very eager to get the “American cultural experience” of being spanked with an awful wooden one. As a brief side note, I find it rather interesting that the traditional English implements have very little room for “thud”: the only thing that I can think of which seems to be popular over there and thuddy are those awful, ebony hairbrushes (which, as far as I’m concerned, England may keep, and there must be some sort of International Spanking Ordinance that protects me from awful things like that when I’m abroad). Amelia appeared quite impressed with the Spencer paddling that she received over dinner, and the more I saw of her, the more impressed I became with Amelia herself.
Sometime after dinner, I wound up in Tubaman’s suite, wherein there was a mountain of implements laying on the table which were to be sold at the vendor faire the next day, but which were available to be tested until then. Malignus and I had some fun digging through the pile to find unusual things, which he then gave me a few solid whacks with. This endeavor started out with him procuring a wooden sword and giving me a quick spanking with it. I was incredibly surprised by how much it hurt, and I think I made a rather excessive amount of noise about it. I got spanked with a number of different materials and unusual pervertables, including a neoprene tube (despite my insistence that I’ve somehow developed an allergy to the substance), a few unusual canes, a pyrex paddle and a fan blade. The most interesting thing that we found in the pile, however, was a real, rhino-skin sjambok. It was very different than the rubber monstrosity which is currently resting under my bed as I write this. It was much shorter and much more dense, but of an equal level of flexibility. Malignus did not lay into me with it and used quite a bit of care when he gave me a sample of it, but I still found it to be quite formidable. Still, it was an exciting thing to be able to tell people I’ve experienced!
I spent the majority of the evening in Ten’s suite, as my I recall, where I got spanked by a number of awesome people. drlectr also gave me a nice, long, OTK lotioning, which sent me into a very snuggly and sleepy place. I was actually quite amazed by how relaxed I felt that first night. The world seemed to be moving at a million miles a minute around me, I’d just been spanked by people whose names I couldn’t even remember, I’d booked myself an extremely full day starting in the morning and I was surrounded by people that I didn’t quite know but wanted to know. None the less, I felt as if I hadn’t a care in the world. My spanko shame was nearly entirely gone. I lay there with my bottom bare and reddened for an entire party worth of people to see, and all I felt was good. My bottom was, after the lotion, the perfect combination of sore and soothed, and I felt incredibly safe in my vulnerability.
|This was taken after I came back to the room.|
That evening, as I prepared for bed, Malignus called me over for my bedtime spanking. Pillows were already laid out on the bed from other scening, so I grabbed my special face pillow and plopped over them. I was very surprised to see him approaching me with a short, delring cane. I’m sure I scrunched my face at him. “But Mallliiiiiiiigggnuuuuus!” I said, “bedtime spankings aren’t supposed to be mean. And besides, I’m shooting tomorrow! I can’t have cane stripes!” Malignus promised me that he did not intend to mark me, and I knew that I had every reason in the world to trust him. He began to spank me in a style which I can only call tapping. He moved the cane back and forth very quickly but without ever giving a full stroke. It was very snappy, though, and even though minimal force was being used, the delrin stung, and I soon found myself crying out. After a few moments of this, though, it became pleasantly percussive, and I relaxed into it. It reinforced the safe, sleepy feeling I had experienced earlier, and while it didn’t send me to subspace (I don’t have the right visas to enter under casual circumstances, it seems), it did fill me with a lovely dose of endorphins. This was a neat new experience, as I’d never had a relaxing caning before. After that, I snuggled into bed with my head on Malignus’ chest and fell asleep, excited to wake up to a series of new adventures in the morning.