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. ♥
I first met my friend Prux over fetlife nearly a year ago. We got to see each other in person for the first time at BBW. I was practically shocked by what a sweet girl she is: caring, gentle, kind, polite and loving. We got to spend much more time together at July’s Crimson Moon party, and it was then that I knew that we were going to be really good friends. My favorite memory from our interactions during the summer was when we both stayed the night at Joe and Ten’s house following the July party. The Brat Brigade was in full force and ridiculous hijinx were happening all around us. At one point, Bad Alex had gotten me into trouble and I was waiting nervously for the consequences of my actions. Prux came and stood next to me sweetly, holding my hand.
“Do you want to go hide?” she asked. The other girls had been running around the house all evening, hiding in closets and attempting to escape spankings. At this point, I’d never hidden to avoid punishment before in my life (and I’m quite sure Prux hadn’t either), so it seemed like a possibly fun experiment. First, we hid in the closet but it was dark and a bit scary in there, so when no one was looking, we crept up the stairs and out into the front yard. We considered hiding under someone’s car like cats, but decided that was not a wise idea and simply crouched behind it. We stayed there giggling and holding hands for quite a while before we realized that no one was looking for us, so we gave up and wandered back to the basement where everyone was hanging out and confessed what we had done. I took my spanking and then Prux and I cuddled. It would have been fairly anti-climactic if she hadn’t been so damn adorable. That night, we both slept on the same L-shaped sofa, having arranged ourselves so that we wouldn’t poke one and other with our feet.
I got to see Prux a little more at Shadowlane, but that was a particularly busy party for me so I didn’t get to spend as much time with friends as I would have liked. We chatted lots after it, though, and I was really excited to see her during this party. We planned to spend the Wednesday before the party fully started together, and Prux obviously gave careful thought to what we should do together for the most adorable, girly fun possible. Unfortunately, Paul and I didn’t end up getting into Chicago until about 4:30 or something, so we weren’t able to do as much adventuring as we would have liked. I was still one of the most excited girls in the whole world when I saw Prux pull up to meet us at the airport! I couldn’t stop hopping up and down. It was exciting to introduce her and Paul: I love it when the people that I adore finally get to meet each other.
We had to do a couple of errands before going to the hotel, and Prux and I chatted happily while we did them. I had forgotten several important things when packing (as is always the way with me). One of these was a coat– it had been in the 70’s when I left Los Angeles on Wednesday morning, so I left my coat sitting on the chair in my study. I was sorely missing that in Chicago as the wind whipped around. Prux kept giving me cuddles whenever we were outside to keep me warm. 😀 Another thing I had forgotten was a stuffed animal. When we stopped at the grocery store for other supplies, we noticed a shelf full of stuffed toys. I asked Paul if I could get one.
“Of course,” he responded. “You’ll need something to clutch desperately while I’m beating you.” My tummy felt funny when he said this, but Prux helped me pick out an adorable pink panda to be my newest companion. I named her Penelope.
Meet Penelope!
After errands were done, we went to dinner, where Prux and I had nearly excessive cuddles and I managed to get ketchup in my hair. Then we went to the hotel and got checked in. Here, Prux gave me a present: one of the sweetest ones I’ve ever gotten!
It was a “bag of sunshine”: she had assembled a yellow bag full of fun, adorable yellow presents to represent what she said was the “sunshine that I bring into her life.” I couldn’t stop grinning as I unpacked it. Everything was carefully selected, and the whole thing was made more excellent by the fact that yellow is my favorite color!
A puzzle, candy, yellow flowers, cider mix, face masks, nail polish, gummy bears, glitter crayons, a candle, silly string, cute animal containers filled with candy, a giraffe which is also a fan and a card with a sweet note. There were also two rubber ducks, who aren’t shown because they were in the bathtub.
The bag included a puzzle with cute ducks, and Prux and assembled it together (this was the second time that Prux had done it, because she checked to make sure all the pieces were there before giving it to me, which I think is over-the-top sweet!)
Artistic rendering of Prux and I!
After that, I had to take a bath because I was super gross from traveling and had ketchup in my hair. We chatted while I was bathing, and SheldonFT texted to see if he could come say hi to Prux. Soon a small group of spankos had assembled in the living room area of our room while I sat naked in the bath. Paul had gone down to the lobby and got to meet the handful of friends who were in the room when he came back, then he came to talk to me where I was sitting in the bathtub. He instructed me to turn over in the bath so my bottom was up and he gave me my first few swats of the party, scolding me for making such a mess in the restaurant. It started out playful and tender, but then I decided to suddenly drop down so that my bottom was submerged. He wasn’t expecting it, and the next spank made an enormous splash, getting water all over him. The rest of the spanking was much more brisk after that!
Once I had finished in the bath, I came out and got into pajamas and saw Sheldon, Naughty Freckles and LilAngelWings. The group of us chatted until it got a bit late, and then everyone returned to their rooms. I had to say goodnight to Prux, since she wasn’t staying in the hotel that night. I gave her the biggest hug ever and a million thank-you’s for her sweetness. I’m so grateful to have such a wonderful, loving friend. After our hugs time was finished, she shyly and adorably asked Paul if she could hug him, too, which was of course very acceptable indeed!
Once she was gone, though, the evening got slightly more serious. I had done something (personal) I shouldn’t have earlier in the day, and I knew that I was going to be punished for it before going to bed. Paul instructed me to sit on the bed and wait for him while he went downstairs to smoke. I sat on the bed cuddling Penelope and being very still and quiet, my heart racing. I wasn’t sure what exactly was going to happen, but I knew that I needed to be punished for what I had done, and I felt a sense of serenity in the knowledge that my correction was inevitable. After what felt like approximately eight years of waiting, Paul came back and sat down next to me on the bed. He scolded me for my behavior earlier in the day and reminded me why I needed to be punished for it. His voice was gentle the entire time, and his touch sweet. “I thought about it and I’ve decided that I’m not going to cane you for this,” he told me. “It’s the start of a party weekend and I’m partly responsible for what happened this morning. That wouldn’t be fair.” I let out a little sigh, as I had been fairly confident that was what was coming. “Instead I’m going to strap you.” Oh. Well, fuck. “I know you think that’s worse,” he acknowledged.
When other people say “strapping” they could be referring to a spanking given with any of a number of leather implements, some wide, some narrow, some light and delicious and others bitey and cruel. In my household it only means one thing, though: the tawse. I’m sitting alone in my bedroom writing this, and I still blushed and shuddered to type that word. Mila and I have taken to calling it “the other thing” (with “the first thing” meaning the cane). No other implement has ever focused my mind so much. I’m not entirely sure where my extreme, obsessive love/(but mostly)hate relationship with this implement came from. Part of it comes from the fact that it appeared in stories and historical things that I read and in films which I saw during my pre-spanking fantasy period. Part of it comes from the fact that early on in our dynamic, Paul sent me a very detailed email about how intended to use this particular implement on me and how it was going to feel. I received this message at a time when I wasn’t really playing, and certainly not in the way I wanted to be, and it became a seed that grew into a fantastic tree of delightful and terrifying fantasies. Then there’s a film from Nimue’s World entitled “I’ve Seen You” that I’ve been a bit obsessed with in which Paul plays a wonderfully creepy character who beats Nimue rather mercilessly with said implement. This film is dark, but in reality, totally consensual and I find it very, very hot. Then, of course, there’s the reality of the thing. “The other thing” hurts, to me, in a way nothing else does. Hot, pinching, biting, swelling, firey hurt. I think it has a 100% “made Alex cry” rating still. Owwwwww.
To return from my tangent, I sat on the bed wringing my hands at this announcement. I seriously considered begging for a caning instead, but I maintained my composure, as I knew I had messed up and I knew I needed to be punished. If I had asked for something else and received it, even if it had been severe I would have felt like I got away with something. It wouldn’t have put me in the headspace that I needed to be in. So I just looked down at the ground and was quiet and obedient. Besides, he had approached this as an alternative to a caning and mentioned that I “think” it’s worse, which could have seemed patronizing but wasn’t. To me, it suggested that it wasn’t intended to be (this time).
First there was a warmup, which happened OTK and was very short and made me pretty sore itself. I had tears forming behind my eyes before the proper punishment even started. The proper punishment arrived soon, though, and I was ordered over the end of the bed and it was announced that I’d be getting eight: the rounded-up version of half my usual punishment. The first stroke landed and I wailed and started to cry, although I recognized that he wasn’t doing it quite as hard as he usually did. On the second stroke I dared to look over my shoulder and saw that, indeed, he wasn’t swinging with the ferocity that he usually had. This didn’t stop it from hurting terribly, but it was more manageable. I couldn’t help but cry at each stroke, though, especially when I focused on the careless thing which I had done earlier in the day. I let the pain focus me on my desire to be a good girl, and I cried out my frustration with myself and my guilt at my earlier behavior. My cries got louder as the number got higher, but soon, it was finished. It wasn’t a severe punishment: a lot of it had been in my head, but I felt much better for it.
It took me several minutes of lying on the bed gasping and clutching Penelope before I managed out my thanks for the punishment, but once I did I was reminded that I’m a good girl and wrapped up in a delightful snuggle. Then it was time for photos and to get ready to actually go to sleep!
See? Not TOO bad!
Unfortunately for me, I had a hell of a time sleeping throughout the entire party, so at six AM, after having no sleep the night before, I accidentally woke Paul up because I was literally in tears from insomnia. Awww, that’s pathetic. He gave me a sleep aid and cuddled me and stroked my hair and eventually I did fall asleep. I had a big day ahead of me… ♥
It’s time to continue with the narrative of my life, even though I’m still writing about stuff which happened in March and it’s May now. I’m not going to lie: for various reasons, April was a kind of intense month for me and I didn’t dedicate the amount of time and energy to the blog that I like to (and is expected of me!) so I am really going to make an effort to get caught up on things. Some of these posts won’t be as detailed as they could have been if I’d been able to write about them right away, but I don’t at all regret the way I’ve chosen to spend my time. I hope the stories are still enjoyable to you guys, despite the time-lag.
I wrote in an earlier post about how the start of my trip to England was very stressful. One of the things which had caused me a lot of concern was the fact that since due to horrible personal circumstances, I wasn’t able to spend any of my time with Serious_Face, which had originally been a large part of my plan. Because of this, I ended up leaving my shoot in Derbyshire to go back to Paul Kennedy’s house for a couple of days before I went to visit my very dear friend, Pandora Blake.
The time that I spent at Paul’s house was really lovely. It was the first time I was in someone’s home since I’d left Rafa’s apartment in LA several weeks ago, and that was refreshing, and our time was unscheduled and very relaxed. More importantly, during the previous two days, I had discovered that I liked Paul an awful lot, and that we were very much on the same page about a lot of things. The more we discussed what aspects of this-thing-we-do were appealing and important to us, the more I noted that these things were very much in line. We spent quite a bit of time snuggling, we enjoyed a lot of sweet, rather affectionate play together and he generally looked after me. I’m often very resistant to being looked after: I firmly believe that I’m an adult and that I can and should look after myself. Letting someone else, especially someone who I had only recently gotten to know, care for me felt very vulnerable in a way that was very gratifying and, somewhat surprisingly to me, very submissive feeling. I still felt fairly shy and reserved, but the time we spent was filled with positive feelings. Safety and warmth and happiness.
At one point, we went to a cafe where we had to wait a very long time to get brunch because they accidentally gave our food to someone else(I didn’t care in the slightest. I just liked sitting there and talking to him). You know how when you go out to eat sometimes they give you a number for your table, so that the person who brings your food out knows where to put it? This cafe did that in a way that made me giggle rather considerably:
Things like that, in a public setting, are enjoyably uncomfortable to me. I could hardly look at it straight on, yet I was infinitely pleased by it.
After that meal, there was cake. I know that you don’t come to my blog to hear about delicious things that I ate, but screw you guys, this cake is worth talking about (Cakeboy will probably not judge me for this section, right?) . It was a glorious cake, full of cream and strawberries. I’m salivating just thinking about how damn good that cake was. Actually, I’m kind of making myself mad, because now I want to eat it again and I can’t. 🙁 It was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. I’m not making that up. I like that cake.
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| I want this cake to be on a rainbow and in my mouth. |
After those very pleasant and reenergizing couple of days, Paul took me up to London to stay at Pandora’s. There was much rejoicing when we saw each other. It had been almost a year since we first met, and that was the only time we’d ever been together face-to-face. Pandora is someone that I got very close to over the internet. Besides the fact that we have a ton of fun being ridiculous together (as the stories that follow will show), I really enjoy being with her because we’re able to have a certain kind of academic discourse without me feeling like I’m being a pretentious bastard. Upon me entering her home, however, we did not engage in discourse. Instead, we jumped up and down a lot and hugged vigorously. It was during this that I discovered that Pandora has a cat named Fatface. “I forgot to mention the cat,” Pandora said, “but based on what I know of you, you aren’t going to mind, right?”
Remember a minute ago when I was obsessed with that cake? That cake means nothing to me next to my feelings towards Fatface. Love at first site. 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.
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| WTF, Alex. I came here to hear about spanking and all you want to talk about are cats and cake. |
Eventually, Paul had to leave to go home, which made me a bit sad and would have made me a lot sadder if I wasn’t so excited to be seeing Pandora, and if I wasn’t going to see him again later in the month. I was going to come back down to his place for further shooting in the second half of my visit.
Pandora and I spent a lot of time catching up, and then we went to the grocery store to get food supplies for my visit. She recently started doing free-running (a fact which I find kind of really sexy) and had hurt her ankle doing it just before I arrived, so she was kind of hobbling around and we decided that walking a long distance wasn’t wise and took the bus. At the store, I was introduced to a lot of foods that I wasn’t familiar with, including cider in flavors like strawberry lime (which is pink!) and chocolate oranges. Pandora and I also discovered that we had very similar taste in food, which made things much easier. Being adventurous, we decided to get a dragon fruit, which I’d never had before, and some strange squash or gourd type vegetable that was advertised as being good for curry and sort of looked like a cross between a cucumber and an alligator. We had high hopes for these foods. The dragon fruit turned out to be a bit different than other fruit in that it isn’t really all that juicy, nor is the flavor particularly strong, but it was very good.
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| Pandora and the dragon fruit. |
The vegetable in question, however, turned out to be some sort of horrible monster vegetable that shouldn’t be eaten under any circumstance. It was bitter and awful, and it TASTED like an alligator’s skin looks. I think we nearly cried when we ate it, and we had to pick every bit of it out of our stir fry in order to make the rest of the vegetables edible. Sad. Day.
That was an aside, because I was talking about food. After we had finished at the store, we had a few drinks and then went to bed, but we didn’t go to sleep. We stayed up for half the night talking about all sorts of things. We discovered that we had many things in common, including strange, highly personal things that we don’t often talk about. It was a great bonding experience. We also were kind of ridiculous with our combined collection of stuffed animals. This night ended up being the inspiration for one of the scenes that we filmed together later in the week.
The next day, Pandora took me to some charity shops in her area, as I was lacking some of the items that I wanted to have with me due to traveling snafus. I didn’t end up getting too many things that were practical, but I did get a blouse with cats on it, a pair of white (I mean bone) shoes and a pair of purple suede heels. Charity shops are different than thrift stores run by charities in the US, like Goodwill and Salvation Army, and poppin’ tags is a different activity in England than it is here. The stores they have are far smaller, and the selection of items is different. In America, you can find anything at the thrift store, ranging from really trashy, old crap to high class stuff with the tags still on it. In England, everything has kind of already been preselected for quality, which is slightly sad to me, since I thrive on weird, awkward, ironic or geeky things that a lot of people wouldn’t consider “quality.” I still loved the shopping experience and was pleased with my purchases. I also realized that I had an ace in my hand for hipster oneupmanship now: when someone asks me where I got these things, I can say “Oh, I got it at the thrift store… IN ENGLAND.” Ha. No copying me now, bitches!
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, sort of like the way that YS consistently lies to me about how many strokes he’s going to give me and that somehow ends up with me being happy.
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 (more information on WTF “bossing” actually means to me coming in a later post). 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. (You can read Pandora’s side of this story here.)
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| Thanks, Pandora and Drop Dog! |
It turns out that Pandora and I ended up playing together off camera quite a bit, and this pleased me a great deal. Sometimes the space was lighthearted, and once it was mildly corrective: I smacked her with The Heavy Bear (from “The Bear Incident”), after she knew quite well that I was seriously forbidden from “assaulting” my friends, even (especially?) with bears. We were already in bed, but her response was very quick. She sat up and pushed me down and started to smack my bottom fairly thoroughly while I whimpered and apologized for my bear-violence. Then she got up from the bed, and I turned out of position. “Oh no, don’t go anywhere!” she warned. “You’re not done!” She retuned with a wooden hairbrush, which she gave me twenty whacks with before forgiving me for my little outburst and snuggling down for the night.
Side note: Hitting people with that bear falls into a certain category of bad behavior, along with picking on Mila Kohl: I know it’s bad, I get corrected for it all the time, but there’s just some insatiable desire in me that prevents me from ever being able to stop doing it. Both activities are just so satisfying. Mila is probably fortunate that she has never been in the same place as me when I had that bear, or else I might have clobbered her to death with it if the power of these two tempting misbehaviors combined. 0_0
Pandora and I also shared a more serious scene later on in the week, in which I was much more vulnerable than I had previously been in any of our kink interactions. I was worrying about something, like I am known to do, and I was feeling detached from my D/s dynamics back at home. I was generally a bit moody and out of sorts because of it, and felt a little less than secure. Company was arriving soon, and I wanted to be perky and cheerful for them, but it was kind of a struggle to get myself back where I belonged. I talked to Pandora a bit, and she asked me rather straightforwardly if I needed a spanking.
Yes. Yes, I did.
There’s something particularly comforting to me about that phrasing as a way to initiate a scene, especially if I’m having some sort of emotional situation. It’s largely about semantics. “Do you need a spanking, Alex?” makes me feel instantly taken care of. I think that the question format of this is particularly pleasing to me because it requires me to openly admit to what I need and desire in that situation, and doing that often clears my head and gives me focus (as well as being a lovely way to guide me onto the path of active submission). There’s also a feeling of some level of concern for me: there has never been a situation where someone that cared about me asked that and I felt that it wouldn’t have been perfectly acceptable for me to say “no” if that wasn’t actually what I wanted (although me not wanting to be spanked when offered is usually a sign that I’m either horrendously overtired, drunk or need to be taken to the hospital). The similar question: “Do you want a spanking?” does much less for me as a positive trigger because it feels very casual (“Hey, wanna get spanked? Cool.”) and because it just seems like a very obvious question. Am I awake/sober/healthy? Then probably, yes, I do. “Need” is a word that can be a bit loaded sometimes. There’s a large part of me that doesn’t want to admit to needing anything, but if someone else brings the word up first, it feels good to me, like it’s been made acceptable for me to have needs. I understand that this is a very complex breakdown of a simple sentence, but these sorts of things are interesting to me. I’m curious if any other bottom-types have similar thoughts on these sorts of phrases, too.
I was slightly reluctant to accept, simply because I didn’t want Pandora to feel like she had to look after me, and because my emotional state involved worrying about being a burden to people, but she reassured me and then took me over her lap while she was seated on the corner of the sofa (so it was more of an “in a chair OTK” than an “on the sofa OTK” in terms of positioning and I tried to relax myself. She spanked me with an atmosphere that felt corrective but not chastising. It was quite spot on for the headspace I needed: I didn’t feel like I was being treated as though I’d done something wrong, but I did feel disciplined, as in I felt like I was existing in the comfortable space of being given the necessary structure and care. It was one of the rare moments where I felt as if I could understand the difference between “discipline” and “punishment”, even if I never grabbed onto it enough to properly articulate it here. Physically, the spanking was appropriately thorough. Pandora used her hand throughout, but still produced some squeals and gasps. I didn’t feel a need to struggle, although it was firm and did hurt. I just felt a safe calmness, and the feeling of my internal centering being restored. When she finished, we hugged and I expressed my gratitude. It had been lovely and kind of her. 🙂
That night, I got spanked one more time, although not by Pandora. She did, however, totally set it up. The company that arrived that evening consisted of Nimue Allen and Thomas Cameron, coming to spend the night so we’d be able to get up early and start shooting the next day. I had made it obvious to Pandora that I was interested in potentially playing with Tom before we shot together (I like doing that, in general, if it’s possible, and I’d seen a lot of pictures of Tom that had sort of piqued my interest). She then suggested that I might need to be spanked again later in the night when my comments got slightly inappropriate later in the evening. This was largely just used as an initiating device: the spanking that I got didn’t really feel disciplinary. It did feel quite good, though, in a painful sort of way. I went over Tom’s lap while Nimue and Pandora watched, and he spanked me quite firmly with his hand, including spanking the entirety of the backs of my thighs. He used his hand effectively, and it hurt a lot. I wasn’t sure exactly how it was going to go, but it ended up being a very fully formed scene: he kept going at increasing intensity until I broke past whimpering and into sniffling and moved into proper crying. That was a fairly rare thing: outside of a video, it’s rare for someone to make me cry the first time I play with them (legends of me crying every time I get spanked are gross overstatements). I think that it worked because there was no expectation set that this would happen. Very often, when someone sets out to make me cry, they are not successful. It jinxes it. This time, it just happened, and it felt right and good.
Afterwards, there were, of course, cuddles.
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| Dear Pandora, I stole this off your blog. Love, Alex. |
This seems like a very good place to wrap up this post, as the next day we shot, and that will be a whole other thing to talk about.
Ok, on to my third and final post about my double shoot with Northern Spanking and AAA that took place… over a month ago (sheepish!).
Following our POV adventures, we shot a film that satisfies my fondness for cuteness and the ridiculous. It’s a girl/girl pajama scene between me, Zoe and a giant stuffed bear. When I first saw that this giant bear existed in the studio, I knew that I wanted to lie over its lap. This is my brain we’re talking about. That should probably be a given. I like bears a lot, and I love stuffed animals, and there’s also this:
This is a page from the children’s book “The Lonely Doll,” which I discovered at the library when I was a young girl. It was the very first visual representation of a spanking that I ever saw, although I knew that I was obsessed long before that. It’s been a very poignent memory for me, and on some level, I always wanted to get “spanked” by a teddy bear.
In the film that we did next, I got my chance for that! Some people think that this is a bit weird, but it’s also gotten a lot of positive attention, so I guess I’m not the only one who really likes it.
We filmed a girl/girl scene between me and Zoe, where, as tends to be the case in scenes between Zoe and I, she is my peer and kind of a bully. We had a pajama pillow fight, and then I made fun of her giant bear (very uncharacteristic of me, obviously fueled by jealousy). We fought a bit, and she forced me over her lap and then spanked me, then went off and obtained a hairbrush which she also used quite thoroughly. At the end, she had me lie over the bear’s lap, and she set it up so that it looked like the bear was spanking me. It was full of win.
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| BEAR SPANKS! |
I really like filming with Zoe. She’s incredibly creative, and her bullying and tormenting me is, well, pretty hot. It was a very good scene.
The next scene that we shot was another domestic one, in which I looked rather young indeed in a primary school uniform, and then I changed into PJ’s. I was unfamiliar with this sort of uniform (a one piece, gingham dress) but it looked very, very young. This is unpublished, so there will be less about that one, but here’s a still that John put on his blog:
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| Yay, nightshirts and scrunchy faces! |
We then had lunch and took a little break before moving on to do more exciting adventures in me getting spanked. The next thing that we filmed was a two part school-girl film, which was a lot of fun. The plot was somewhat complicated, and it involved Zoe supervising me in detention (since she was a prefect and had to learn about how to properly beat awfully behaved girls) where I was being punished by Paul for being the worst exchange student from the US ever, and having stolen a bunch of “supplies” from the faculty Christmas party. I got to be kind of a little bitch in this scene, which is exciting. Paul responded to this by being truly antagonistic and mean. It was a different attitude than a lot of school films I’ve done, where the disciplinarian is meant to simply be a very nice person who happens to have to beat me. I felt like in this scene, we actually fought. At one point, he said “I don’t like you at all, Reynolds,” which is an attitude that felt really, really right for the scene, but I understand is delicate territory for some viewers. That made the scene appear very delightfully dark and non-consensual, and I adored that. I really like doing dark and kind of awful scenes with people who, in the real world, are lovely and close to me. The spanking hurt a lot, too, because at that point I was pretty toast from the previous few days, and I’m pretty sure that I broke into tears at one point (I haven’t actually watched this yet, largely because I’m concerned that it is going to make me miss Paul a lot and I’ll feel suddenly sad). The scene ended with me being put in the corner, which was possibly the worst part of the scene because in an unheated building in the English winter, corners are cold and miserable places. Once I’m cold and sniffling, Mr. Kennedy took off to go (I don’t remember where) and left Zoe in charge of me, with instructions to punish me again if I dared to move. I’m sure you can’t imagine what part two of this video is. 🙂
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| Paul is WAY too happy about the fact that he’s about to beat me in this photo. I’m not sure what I’m doing with my face. I possibly laughing at him. 😛 |
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| At some point during filming, I defiantly shoved a bunch of stuff and ended up throwing Paul’s glasses on the floor. Oops. Even bratty-awful Alex had to apologize for that. |
Once the second half of filming that was done, Zoe and I did another girl/girl scene together, which was pretty much one of the best spanking films ever made, I’d imagine. It involves me being a nieve, American Girl Scout attempting to attend a Girl Guides meeting and instead getting horribly tormented and molested by evil, awful Zoe. It gets kind of sexy (although not blatantly sexual) and has some hilarious lines in it. Plus, we look so cute:
We were meant to do a judicial caning scene after this, but I was exhausted and tired and just didn’t have another full out beating left in me at that point, so I asked if we could do something else instead, about which everyone was extremely understanding. What we ended up doing instead was very lovely: a sweet, very consensual domestic scene between me and Paul. My smile in this photo is genuine: I felt very contented by this. It seemed like the perfect end to the day:
That’s the end of the story of this shoot, finally. I have many more adventures from England coming soon, though. I want to briefly thank John (The Chief) for the fact that I cribbed about half or more of the photos included in this post directly from his post on the same subject. I appreciate your sharing, and having good photos of me. 🙂
Well, that last post was bracing, wasn’t it? Don’t worry: this one has adventures, spanking and photos in it. Whew!
On Tuesday night, I arrived in Holland, where I was picked up from the airport by Mike from Spanked in Uniform and Real Life Spankings. We chatted about various things, including what we’d be shooting in the next two days while we drove from the airport to the hotel where I’d be staying. This was a much more welcoming hotel than the last one had been: I found my room right away, the lights worked, the room was warm upon arrival and it had much more space. I got on the internet and talked to Malignus for a while, then took a long, relaxing bath. I got my things ready for the next day and then got a good night’s sleep.
The next morning, I got up and got ready, then Mike picked me up and brought me over to his studio. We started brainstorming about which scenes, exactly, we were going to shoot. I love dressing up, so shooting for a site whose whole point-of-concept was uniforms was a lot of fun for me. The first scene which we shot was for Real Life Spankings. It was a pretty straight forward scene (few details, as it is yet to be released) but I was surprise to discover just how hard Mike’s hand-spankings were. He fell into the rare camp of Tops whose hands hurt worse than many implements.
The next scene that we shot has been released, so I shall show you some photos. It’s for Spanked in Uniform‘s sub-series “Europe Airlines,” and features me as a stewardess, what else? I liked the pink outfit: quite girly and adorable. In the film, I’ve been caught trying to smuggle foodstuffs and alcohol back to the US, and get promptly spanked, and then paddled with a leather paddle.
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| Alex Reynolds IN A CORNER? Now that’s just unnatural. 😛 |
I’m pretty sure that the next scene that we did was for Spanked in Uniform‘s Star Trek themed segment: “The Disciplinary Ship Genesis.” I originally intended to bring my own Star Trek TOS uniform with me, to ensure proper fitting, but it was among the things that didn’t make it overseas with me. Fortunately, one of the uniforms on hand suited me pretty well.
Now, let me just point out that I’m into Star Trek. Star Trek spanking fantasies have been part of my life since I was a pretty young girl, although they were usually either based around the idea of being a Yeoman (I’ve always really fetishized service-type positions) or they were very directly Fanfictional regarding characters of Star Trek: TNG. In case you’re kind of making a squinty face at me and saying “Really, Alex?”: yes. Really. It’s okay. This makes me hot. 😀
So, because of this background, shooting any kind of Star Trek type scenes was lots of fun for me, and I enjoyed wearing that uniform very much. In these scenes, I play a misguided Ensign who will probably follow the path of Harry Kim and never receive a promotion, as I’ve been messing around and polishing torpedos instead of manning the Weapons Bay properly. My character’s ridiculous judgement call almost costs everyone their lives when the ship encounters a Borg cube. Oops. There’s no better response to almost getting everyone on a ship killed than spanking, though!
We took a break for lunch, after which we did two more scenes that have yet to be released. One was for the series “Mike’s 50’s Diner,” which was a lot of fun to film because in it, I got to be a horrible, stuck up brat. A lot of the characters that I get to play are good girls: sweet, repentant, apologetic girls. Admittedly, because this is closest to my usual real life scene behavior and because this is sort of what I started out with, those are the characters where I probably do the best job. Still, I find other sorts of behavior lots of fun, and I’ve enjoyed getting more comfortable and proficient at being mouthy, witty, bratty and sometimes horrible. That scene was a fun example of that.
The final scene of the day was on the exact opposite end of the spectrum. It was for the Military Academy series, and I played a character that was possibly more of a goody-goody than I actually am in real life. If I’m not being aware of it, I can sometimes be annoying good: you don’t want to do that thing? Well, let me do it instead! Oh! I know the answer to that question! Pick me! Let me tell you some facts!
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| And also, me. |
This is not always the best way to make friends. In this scene, though, it was fun (and kind of refreshing) to be so super good, although I can rest assured that if I were in an actual Military School environment, every other cadet would hate me and want horrible things to befall me.
I also liked the outfit that was worn for this series. The little hat was particularly enjoyable:
By the end of the day, I was basically toast. My bottom was sore in lots of different ways, but it mostly felt raw, and my skin was getting kind of hard and dried out. This was kind of intimidating for two reasons: the first being that I had three more consecutive days of shooting coming up. The second was the fact that I had dumped my lotion when trying to lighten my bag and that hotels in Europe don’t seem to give out as varied an assortment of toiletries as American hotels do. Still, I’m basically a champion when it comes to spanking stamina, and I had hardly a mark on me at the end of the day, so I wasn’t too overly concerned.
We packed up all the mean, awful things that I’d been getting hit with all day: 😀
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| It’s an instrument that’s hard to play quietly. |
and then Mike and his lovely wife took me out to dinner at a restaurant which was bear themed. They didn’t even do this on purpose, either, but it was entirely perfect for me. There were bears everywhere, and I couldn’t stop staring at them.
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| BEARS |
I even took a photo in a bathroom that wasn’t of my butt reflecting in the mirror!
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| I basically need this in my house. |
After dinner, I felt refreshed and relaxed and I went back to the hotel, where I soaked in the bath for a long time. Being a resourceful girl, I decided to apply some hair-mask to my butt to take the place of lotion. Please note that this isn’t a recommended “asscare” practice, but it worked in a pinch. Before too long, I had gotten tired and drifted off to sleep. ♥
edited for gramatical improvement.
Friday night was a very good night. Everyone enjoyed each other’s company, and for the first time ever, I got to go to sleep next to ellee and YS. He slept in the middle, and a few times in the night I woke up and turned over to see him sleeping next to me, only to become so excited about this fact that I found it hard to get back to sleep. While this sounds kind of cute when I retell it, it wasn’t very practical.
As is usual for me, I woke up feeling slow moving and like it would have been very easy to become cranky. It was like, 9:30 in the morning when ellee and YS got out of bed, and I considered trying to just resist the entire morning thing and just keep lying there. I’m not sure if ellee did what she did next intentionally, having assumed that this would be the case based on her twinly abilities, or just because she wanted to, but she turned to YS and said “I know a certain Alex and ellee who did not get bedtime spankings last night.” This was my fault: I had gone to bed earlier than the rest of them which had put a kink in the bedtime spanking routine. YS responded to this the way that any reasonable spanking man would: by giving us wake up spankings instead.
Wake up spankings used to seem like an inhumanly cruel idea to me. When Malignus first suggested them to me as a possibility when I was planning my first visit to his place in South Dakota ages and ages ago, I was originally pretty resistant. If I hate being awake in the morning in the first place, why in the name of Science would I want to find myself getting whacked repeatedly before I had even come to my senses? I agreed to give it a try, though, and found it to be very different than I imagined. See, spankings create adrenaline Adrenaline is the opposite of sleepiness. Spankings also create endorphins. Endorphins are the opposite of grumpiness. I soon discovered that a wake-up spanking was the easiest way for me to transition from sleepytime to the land of the living, and I’m always appreciative when I get them.
YS set ellee and I up side by side and on the bed and spanked us with his hand, giving each of us a few spanks and then moving on to the next adorable, semi-undressed girl that he happened to have in his bed (YS is sometimes referred to as “The Lucky Bastard”). My mood and perkiness improved greatly as the spanking went on, and ellee and I held hands and sort of snuggled while getting spanked as we are known to do. After a bit, YS stopped and went over to some of his luggage.
“What are you doing?” ellee asked.
“I’m looking for some lotion,” YS told her.
“Oh, I have that right here!” she volunteered helpfully. YS turned around and approached us with a London Tanner’s spanking strop.
“I lied. I wasn’t looking for lotion. Lay back down.”
(♥ I love that kind of stuff)
We both got back into position and he continued to spank us with the strap, making us both produce our own distinctive vocalizations. ellee sounds much happier than I do when she gets spanked: she sort of chirps and purrs and makes all sorts of adorable and energetic sounds. I just produce a varying level of gasps, whines, wails and, eventually, sobbing sounds. Just as I don’t fake orgasms, though, I never manufacture these reactions in my personal play. If a spanking doesn’t hurt, I don’t respond vocally. If it does, I generally don’t hold back (although there are situations where some amount of holding back is appropriate). This morning, I was a bit whimpery, and crying out a bit, but still obviously very happy with the strapping I was receiving.
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| Post spanking coziness |
Once we’d both been thoroughly spanked, we somehow ended up getting even further undressed for a bit. Then we finally got dressed and went out to get ellee some makeup products which she had forgotten. After that expedition where YS also bought us candy and gave us each the occasional stray swat right in the middle of the mall, which I’m not used to at all and which made me blush ferociously, we ate a delicious breakfast then went to finish getting ready for the day. After I got out of the shower, YS directed me to the ironing board which was set up in the corner of the room. He showed me which shirt he wanted to wear that day and asked me to iron it, and to use the lint roller on it and also the pants that he was going to be wearing. This filled me with submissive bliss, as it was the first time I had ever had a chance to do a service-type task for YS (although I had made him sandwiches and things like that before our D/s dynamic started). I decided that for full effect, I had better do my ironing naked. (Dear Prestigious Women’s College from which I graduated: there, there. It’ll be alright.)
YS was pleased with my work and we both got dressed for the day. I asked YS if he wanted to pick out my panties for the day, which was something that would never have happened in any of my other D/s dynamics, but which felt VERY right in this case. He selected a gray, cotton pair that were cute and matched my outfit well (I actually happen to be wearing them RIGHT NOW). As soon as we finished this, he decided that he was going to spank me with my new hairbrush. He had purchased me a Mason Pearson hairbrush off of my amazon wishlist a little while ago as a thank you gift for being such a good girl (awwwww).
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| Some hairbrush related photos which I took for YS when it first arrived. |
I had wanted a Mason-Pearson hairbrush because I had read about them in spanking stories for a long time, and they seemed both classy and mean. They’re plastic, in case anyone doesn’t already know, so I was not entirely sure how much it would actually hurt. I went over YS’s lap again to find out.
It hurt. Specifically, it stung. I could have probably deduced this, since it was a firm but lightweight material. YS was able to get a good rhythm and motion going with it, and my bottom began to be overwhelmed with buzzing, burning, inescapable sting. I put my effort into not resisting, but I made quite a bit of noise. YS wrapped his other arm around my waist while he spanked me, going on and on with no end in sight. It built and built, but because of the nature of the implement, never descended into the gratification of thud, even when he started to give me harder swats. It just stung more. I had wanted to cry during the first spanking that YS had given me the day before, but I was too busy being happy and floaty. This implement was very good for that: it kept me very present and aware, but because of the emotional connection created by having had the implement purchased for me by my Dom, I felt very, very submissive. As both the pain and the submission increased, I started to make sobbing sounds. I didn’t have a full out, proper cry, but I wailed and let go and a few tears came out. YS continued spanking me for however much longer he felt like, and then pulled me up for hugs tiem. It was perfect.
The rest of the day was very nice and it involved lots of fun times with various friends, as well as a few other scenes here and there and a complex and unusual prank involving a burrito which was maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I laughed so hard that tears literally rolled down my face. The most significant thing which occurred during the rest of that day, in my mind, was what I have been referring to when chatting to friends as “The Bear Story.”
Right before we went to pick up YS and ellee, Lily Starr brought me into her room and gave me a present. It was an adorable brown teddy bear with a big, teal bow. As soon as I picked it up, though, I discovered that it was different than other bears. It’s full of lavender and some kind of beans, and it can be put in the microwave to heat it up before cuddling. It’s amazing! It’s also really fun to play with because it’s weighted and kind of heavy. I had a lot of fun swinging it around by it’s various limbs. Lily then gave ellee a matching bear, which made things EVEN MORE PERFECT. Do you know why they make more than one of cute things? It’s EXCLUSIVELY so that ellee and I can have matching ones. Aren’t you glad I’ve explained that? I knew people were probably wondering. 😛
Unfortunately, this bear caused me a little problem. In addition to enjoying swinging it around, I really, really enjoyed whacking my friends with the bear. I know, I know, this is the most childish thing ever, but it was REALLY satisfying and I REALLY couldn’t stop myself. Now, sometime before the party, I had called ellee to talk about a few things and the topic of people who I sometimes want to punch came up. The conversation had gone something like this:
Me: There are people in the world who I really want to punch, but I probably can’t. 🙁
ellee: Oh! YS is here! Let me ask him!
ellee (to her husband): YS? Can Alex punch someone if they’re really horrible?
YS (super stern): No.
YS (loudly, so that I can hear through the phone) Alex, you can’t punch people unless they punch you first or they’re trying to rape you.
Me: Harumph, yes, Sir.
That’s the problem with Doms. They’re always making all these rules that prevent me from punching people in the face, or getting hit by cars, or dying in a fire and they go around making sure that I get proper sleep and take care of myself and don’t get arrested. (Thank you, Malignus and YS! I love you!)
Anyway, it had been clearly established before the party that I was not to non-consensually assault people. Really, this is also basically just common sense, and also part of my rules from Malignus, so there’s no excuse for any of this.
But this bear. It was SO GOOD for whacking your friends with. I had done it a little bit without anyone saying anything, but on Saturday afternoon in Beth/Heather/Missy/Stacey/Jules/possibly more people(?)’s suite, I got to swinging the bear around and hit both ellee and Heather. Heather, being a boss of me, wasn’t going to take any bear-smacking, so she grabbed me by the arm and marched me into a corner. My reaction was instinctual, if not entirely logical.
“YS!” I yelled. “Help! Heather’s being mean to me!” YS gave a response about how he was not going to interfere with other people’s dynamics while I stood there with my face in a kind of oddly smelling curtain. Then, I guess either ellee or Heather explained to him why, exactly, I was standing with my face in a kind of oddly smelling curtain.
“Alex!” he scolded. “Did you hit her with your bear?”
“No,” I said, without any understanding of why that word was coming out of my mouth.
“Are you really going to lie to me about this?” he asked.
“…I meant no, I did do it.”
Even though that made absolutely no sense, YS seemed to accept that answer.
Still, he added, “We’re going to have to have a discussion about this later, I think.” I gave a resigned “Yes, Sir,” and returned my face to the corner.
“Oh no, are you mad?” ellee asked, concerned about me, because ellee is the sweetest friend ever.
“No,” YS, consoled her, “I’m not mad. All this means is that Alex is going to get spanked later, which is the whole reason that we’re at this party.”
The promise of being spanked for it later sent a little shiver down my spine, even though I was in an environment where there was zero risk of not getting spanked, and I remained in the corner until Heather decided to let me out.
I rejoined the party and continued to have a nice time. Then, less than an hour later, I was sitting on the couch with ellee, YS and the same bear. ellee said something silly or teasing, and I responded by sort of tossing the bear at her head.
“She just hit me with her bear!” ellee said with shock.
“Okay,” was all the YS had to say about this. What he had to say wasn’t the important part, though. What he did was stand up, grab me by the wrist and lead me to a bar stool at the front of the room. I felt a surge of nervousness. While I was fully aware as soon as the bear-tossing had occurred that I’d probably be spanked for it, it hadn’t occurred to me that it would be done right there, right then in front of everyone. The offense of throwing around bears wasn’t particularly serious, but this was also the first time that I was getting a chastisement style spanking from YS since our dynamic began. He had given me an #offchartbossing “punishment” spanking during the second cabin party, which I described as this:
When ellee and YS arrived, we exchanged some presents that we had collected for each other, because we’re the kind of besties who get each other cute things. ellee is really good at buying presents. I was overjoyed. In the middle of mini-Christmas, though, YS came into the room with an implement and a semi-serious look on his face. Heather, ellee, YS and -lostkitten had carpooled from the airport together, and they had taken longer than I determined acceptable, so I got a little beyond my bounds and sent a text to Heather scolding YS for getting everyone lost and taking too long. This was about to catch up to me in the form of my first spanking of the party. My sense of self preservation must not have been unpacked yet, though, because when he said “You got a little mouthy there, Alex” I responded with “My mouth was not involved! I was texting!”
Surprisingly, this did not save me, and I got ten firm swats, followed by a very nice hug and more presents. Have I mentioned that YS and ellee are pretty much my favorite people ever to live? Yes. That.
What happened this time was not ten firm swats, followed by a very nice hug and more presents.
YS instructed me to bend over the barstool and he lifted my skirt. Then he asked whose toy bag was on the table. It belonged to StrictDave, and he happily offered the use of his implements. I could hear the distinctive sound of wooden things clattering against each other, to which I have a Pavlovian fear response. I instinctively looked back to see what had been selected.
“Don’t look back,” YS chided. “Just keep your face forward, hold still and be a good girl.”
I did my best to do that. YS wrapped his free arm around my waist and began to spank me harder than he had ever before. The spanking was at a rapid pace and, from what I could gather, was with a wooden implement with a short range and a spanking surface about the size of my fist. It was the kind of hurt that burns and buzzes and very quickly overwhelms me, and I am pretty sure that I made pathetic vocalization for basically the entire thing. I don’t remember YS saying anything to me throughout: no scolding or coaxing, just the constant presence of his other arm. That made me feel very Dominated: it was stable, secure, strong and unyielding. These are all important aspects of Dominance to me, and this non-verbal communication had a potent effect. I soon began to cry and apologize, entirely unaware of the fact that there were people around me. My entire world consisted of me, YS, the barstool I was leaning on, whatever implement he was using and an inescapable, undeniable, constant pain.
The last time that someone attempted to correct me in a public party setting I felt extremely insecure about being observed in such an intimate act, even though it was much less serious and less intimate than this, and I fell into a panicked and upset state and prematurely ended the scene. This time, I was entirely comfortable and entirely unaware of anyone else. It helped that no one interacted with us in a disruptive manner: no suggestions were made, no one announced when I began to cry et cetera. It just happened, and it was perfectly natural. Finally, he finished and wrapped me in a hug. After I regained my calm, I got some ellee hugs as well (apparently her spanking empathy is so strong that she was almost crying watching me, and I assured her that I was not only fine, but I felt very loved and well taken care of).
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| Quite soundly spanked. |
YS sat back down on the couch and I climbed onto his lap and put my head on his shoulder. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead.
“You’re a very good girl still,” he assured me, “but no more assault, even in jest.” I melted into him a bit more.
“Yes, Sir,” I answered, my voice hardly above whispering, “thank you for correcting me.” ♥
I later discovered that the implement I was spanked with is an incredibly evil hairbrush which should probably not exist. It’s that big type of hairbrush which is somewhere between a hairbrush and a bath brush and could only possibly make itself useful by making girls cry lots and lots.
Also, this is one of the only times that I’ve told a chastisement story on this blog. I usually consider this to be personal, and often sullied by public sharing but because this one was delivered in a semi-public setting, not over something deeply personal and very important to the narrative of my developing relationship with YS, I’ve decided that I have positive feelings about sharing this. I’ll eventually write a longer post about my feelings towards punishment and the public eye (by which I mean it’s been a draft for approximately 3 months).
Oh, Hai!
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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