I am going to get through this complete narrative if it’s the last damn thing I do. I don’t know why it’s so important to me that I do, especially because adventures keep happening and piling up and it would make more sense for me to cut my losses and just jump to the more recent. But I’m going to. Really.
I know there has been some lag in when this blog has been updated, but I guarantee you that this time, I’m on a good schedule for quite some time now. Thanks for sticking by me as I’ve been busy darting around the world on spanking adventures. Your readership means so much to me.
The first person to spank me on Friday morning at BBW was YS. After getting ready for the day, I crawled up on his bed and we chatted about things that were going on in my life at the time. When that was finished, he put one leg out and put me over it (a very practical form of on the bed OTK) and then spanked me. He spanked me with a bunch of things, but I didn’t really get a good look at them. I just got a good feel of them. Many of them were wooden, and they hurt. It was still early in the day, and I think I may have been a bit whiny about things at first, but I quickly broke down and let myself fall into things. Damn, it hurt. YS almost always spanks me quite hard, but I felt very safe and comfortable in the position that he put me in. I was somewhat physically resistant, though, by the standards of this relationship. I clutched at the blankets and wiggled a bit and despite being reminded to, I was unable to keep my body relaxed. I worked at it as the spanking went on, and I think I made some progress, but it wasn’t easy. When YS was finished, I felt very physically worn out at first, and cuddled on the bed next to him for a while. After that, I was back to my perky self, and we went off to lunch.
|I think that Beth took this photo. If so, thank you, Beth!|
I spent a lot of the rest of the day hanging out with friends and having fun. At one point, I did something annoying to TheBadAlex and she responded by whacking me in the knee. This left a bruise that will become significant later on in the story. [God, Bad Alex, stop being such a bitch!] Later, we went to the meet and greet and I hung out with a nice variety of people, as basically everyone was there. The Famous Kat, who I met for the first time after years of internet friendship, showed me a place where I could stand on the balcony and it would make my dress fly up. I like that. I like that an awful lot. The lightweight nature of dress material is an important factor in my selection of clothing on a windy day. 🙂
After the event, SpankingJoe (different than Drlectr) and Bad Alex and I got together to talk in Joe’s room. This was a very complex proceeding that involved Joe setting up chairs in front of a desk and getting out a big, school type paddle. Because he knew that having the two of us together would probably result in mischief. Alex did, indeed, say something off color or complain about something, I don’t remember what, and she ended up being bent over the desk for ten swats. I probably gloated a bit about the fact that she was getting spanked, and I think she certainly would have found a way to throw me under the bus (such a bitch! Damn you, Bad Alex!) but it was time for me to go.
Earlier in the day, I had a very intense conversation with Lucy, which was really wonderful for me. It’s part of my personal life, the stuff that doesn’t go on here, but we talked about a lot of things and she looked after me in with a level of dedication and caring that was more than most people ever have in my life. That’s not meant to put anyone else down, just to say that she went above and beyond the call, and that I adore her for it. Part of this involved her setting things up for me to play with her partner, Stephen Lewis at a set time and location, and that time was nearing.
Stephen and I had never played together off camera before. I knew that I liked scening with him for work purposes very, very much. He’s good with characters. He’s willing to be a bit weird when the scene calls for it, and he’s very willing (perhaps even eager) to go to the darker places that I have recently found that I delight in. We weren’t going to roleplay this time, though. We were just going to be ourselves, and I was greatly looking forward to that. I knew that he plays hard. I’d seen photos of him having played with other girls where they were quite marked. It may have only been Friday, but at that time for my own reasons, I wanted to play hard. I wanted someone to beat me, and soundly. I felt very stable and secure because I knew that he would. I knew that I didn’t need to ask him to, or to sell him on the idea. I felt confident that he understood me enough to do what needed doing. As I walked to the room he and Lucy were sharing, my heart pounded against the inside of my chest with heavy anticipation. My tummy felt funny. It was wonderful.
I knocked on the door and he opened it. We talked a bit, and then he put a straight backed chair in the middle of the room and took off his jacket, having me hang it up. Then he put me over his lap and he began to spank me. I had let him know that I wanted my thighs to be spanked as well, and he was more than willing to do so. Every smack hurt in a way that radiated through my body. Often, when I really feel the need to be spanked hard, I find myself easily overwhelmed when I get what I need, lost at sea, struggling and crying and that letting go process leaves me feeling strong again. That wasn’t what happened this time. Stephen spoke to me very positively, and the combination of his words and the pain that grew and grew in my bottom and thighs (especially when he switched from his hand to a lightweight little hairbrush type paddle, and then to a much heavier and thicker one) made me feel edified. I didn’t feel like weakness left me and afterwards, that hollow space left was inflated with strength. I felt all the things in me, the feelings and the vulnerability harden into an unbreakable, positive core. I felt safe. I felt like myself. I felt like everything that had been dark had been illuminated. I didn’t cry. I had assumed that I would, but instead, I felt joyful. I could feel the red growing, could feel that there were probably purple speckles forming, especially on my sit spot and thighs. Each smack felt hot, and burning tingles radiated out from the center of the impact. Finally, eventually, it ended.
“This is about what you need,” Stephen said, “but it’s also about what I want. I want to cane you now, so I am going to.” I was, in that moment, entirely submissive, which is a rare thing for me when I’m playing with someone with whom I don’t have a dynamic. I knew that it was a temporary and fleeting thing, and that was fine, almost positive feeling. Having it be an encapsulated moment instead of a part of a timeline (not to say that we’ll never play again, as I’m certain that we will have other chances to, but there was nothing being built or worked at, it was just a moment) made it all that more refreshing, and I needed that.
I climbed over the end of the bed to be caned. I think I took a total of 33 strokes, many of them on my thighs, although by no means all of them. He used several different canes, increasing in intensity as they went on, but I don’t remember very much about them. I just remember the process: calm, stillness and then a white, hot pain, and then the secondary pain that follows– an aching, chewing pain. Then calmness, and another interruption. When it was finished, Stephen sat at the head of the bed and I cuddled against him for a while, having quiet and gentle conversation about how well I took my thrashing. I felt proud of myself. Instead of getting hung up on something I hadn’t done the way I’d like to, I just felt pleased with my endurance, my reaction and the whole experience And I felt sore. I felt incredibly, incredibly sore. I almost didn’t want to sit. My thighs felt swollen. I was bruised and welted. I was happy. Stephen is a really good friend, and a wonderful Top.
During the post-scene cuddling, we talked about various things, including why getting hit on my thighs was so important to me. I think everyone who reads this has heard it a million times: I like getting hit on my thighs because I hate it. It challenges me. It pushes me. It’s the first thing that ever really made me acknowledge my submission, and it continues to be effective at getting inside my head. “There are other things that I think could be like that for me, but that I’m too scared to even try,” I told Stephen. He asked me what those things were. “Like hand tawsing. I’ve been hit on the hand with other things before, less serious things, and it’s just far, far too painful. I can’t endure it.” I told him the story about how I somehow ended up on the other side of the room insisting that I was literally going to die the first time that Malignus had hit me on the hand, and he had a chuckle at that.
“If you ever want to try it, you should either ask Lucy to do it or Mr. Allen, since they’re the best at hand tawsing,” Stephen told me.
“I know I’ll eventually want to try it. I have a horrible morbid curiosity, but I’m just not there yet. Maybe in six months or so I will be. Right now, it’s just far too scary.” This was acceptable, and the conversation moved on to other things. Eventually, it was time for me to go and get changed, as the Vendor’s Fair was that night.
|I took this photo when I got undressed to change in my room later. Sore girl!|
This story will continue in the next post. Stay tuned! ♥