Mark your calendars! I’m excited to announce that on Tuesday, August 25th, I’ll be guest moderating the discussion on Sex Talk Tuesday. We’ll be talking about consensual non-consent and exploring our emotions on this edgier kind of play, as well as talking about negotiating this sort of intense scene and identifying and communicating limits.
What is Sex Talk Tuesday? It’s a weekly twitter chat where we discuss a topic relating to sexuality! The crowd that shows up is usually very kink friendly and sex positive, and I’ve enjoyed participating in a lot of interesting discussions there.
You have to use twitter to participate in the chat, so I highly recommend that you get an account if you don’t have one and would like to be involved. Plus, you can follow me (@spankingland) for updates about my life and lots of great spanking pictures, so that’s an added bonus. 😉
The chat starts at 3PM, EST. That’s noon for those of us on the West Coast. I’ll be posing a series of questions about the topic using the hashtag #sextalktuesday. Clicking on the tag will let you follow the whole conversation and see who is saying what, in real time. You can ask questions, add your opinions and share ideas on the topic.
Be sure to use the hashtag in each tweet, so that others can see your response. If you’re worried about flooding your timeline, you can just reply to each tweet and those will only be scene by those of your followers who also follow the original tweeter. If you *want* everyone to see what you have to say, add a period before the @ when you reply to someone else’s tweet to make it appear on all timelines.
I hope to see you all there and to have a productive conversation on the subject.
Let me know if you have any questions about this!
Note: I went to start writing about my recent adventures and found that this post had been sitting as a nearly finished draft for a long time. I kept getting distracted from it! So, I’ve finished it. This post is slightly off topic and the latter half of it includes sexual themes and images of clothed female masturbation.
I’m not going to lie: I love wearing makeup. I don’t dislike the way that I look without it on. There’s something coy and girlish about my “working from home” look, which usually consists of me just dressed in a pair of panties and a t-shirt, working on my laptop. I don’t wear makeup when I’m not leaving the house or having someone over: I have a tendency to break out, and letting my skin “breathe” when I don’t need to be fancy helps that.
That said, I definitely prefer to wear a smattering of cosmetics. It’s a skill I’ve only recently really developed. I try to go for a natural look, but I do enjoy having doll like attributes, too. There’s nothing like being told that my skin looks like a porcelain doll, especially when just two years ago, despite my best efforts, I pretty much always looked ruddy and spotty in the face.
Still, I’m definitely not the type of girl who never leaves home without my makeup on. If I’m not in the mood for it, then I’m not in the mood for it. If I want to feel pretty and fancy, then it’s something fun to do that I can enjoy. It’s the same difference between picking out an outfit that makes me feel cute, or not caring if I look cute or not and just heading out in leggings and an oversized sweater. Both are perfectly legitimate options for me, depending on how I’m feeling that day. But there is one time when I feel like I’m *always* in the mood for makeup: when there’s a camera running.
Even in my early days of blogging and modeling, where I felt a lot more comfortable posting pictures where I wasn’t wearing any makeup and was highlighting my very bad skin (hey, at least acne made me look authentically adolescent, right?) on this site, I always did my best with my makeup when I was on camera. The fact that I wasn’t very good at it made me feeling less confident than I could have at times.
Once I learned how to do makeup a bit more, though, I started to feel more confident about the way that I looked in pictures and on video, and people seemed to respond better to my images, too. The fancier my makeup, the more confident I feel, too. While I once felt out of place and out of my element when I dressed up, I’ve started to revel in it, realizing that I didn’t have to act any differently just because I looked different.
(A handful of selfies from a day when a makeup artist did my look, and I felt particularly cute)
Unfortunately, in a certain way, somewhere along the way, I crossed a Rubicon in this department. The confidence that I gain when I primp and powder became dependent on these this preparation in order to show up. The days when I would take and post a selfie to showcase a point simply wearing whatever I happened to have on, with my blotchy, unmade-up face on plain display are long gone. I post the occasional unmade-up pre-bedtime photo, but it’s rare.
I don’t really understand it, because I don’t feel uncute without makeup. If I’m willing to walk around the mall like this, why am I not willing to put it on the internet? Somewhere along the line, perhaps around the time when I began doing more explicit videos, intimacy began to be assigned differently. My naked body became something that everyone has seen. But, at least for the past few years, my naked face is something that’s been reserved for people who have spent real life, casual time around me. It’s the face that Paul looks at when we wake up in the morning. It’s the face that greets Rafa when I wander into his apartment so we can cuddle on the couch and watch movies. It’s the face that my girlfriend runs a loving finger across while we soak in bath together. It’s the face that Erica and Spankcake see when I’m feeling frazzled and I need them: the kind of days when one of us silently moves across the table to pull the other into a hug.
Make up free wombat hugs!
Thinking about these kinds of moments, those tender, vulnerable, intimate moments, I realized that I usually do feel quite cute and pretty in those times. I feel clean and innocent, and yes, I feel sexy. Any kind of nudity can be enjoyable.
Thinking about this a while ago, I decided that I wanted to try doing a video without any makeup on. I wanted to try being nakedly myself on film, just to see how it felt. I decided that I wanted to film something in my most natural state.
~~~
Last fall, Paul and I went on our first road trip together. We drove from Los Angeles to Green River Utah, where we spent a night before heading to Denver. We stayed for a few days there while I worked and we visited with Amoni, and then we got back in the car and drove to Iowa, through the corn fields and plains of the area where I used to live. We spent two nights there, and I did a day long shoot with a local bondage producer. From there, we continued on to Chicago, where we then attended the October Crimson Moon Party. It was a blast, and I didn’t feel too tired from all of the travel yet.
On the way back, we drove straight through to Denver in one go, and by then, I was starting to feel a bit worn by the trip, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Being in a car with someone for that long is very vulnerable: there’s no hiding any aspect of yourself in those close quarters, and you have to be patient with one and other. Fortunately, there was no tension between us. The trip went by harmoniously.
We visited a wild animal sanctuary outside of Denver, then we had an early night at a hotel. The next morning, I was going to go shoot for Real Spankings and RSI again, so I needed my rest.
The shoot the next day was one of my favorites that I ever did with them, but it was definitely hard. It started off with strapping, followed by a caning, and then a hard school paddling. I got a break to be a background character in one of Jordan’s scenes, and then she had to go home. When it was time to do the last scene, Michael Masterson told me that we could do whatever I wanted to.
I’d had a long week and a half of adventuring. I had been spanked countless times, in multiple cities and states, including plenty of hard scenes. But there was something special about this last scene I was going to do: it was the final thing that I had planned. I didn’t have to hold anything back for later. This could be a final expenditure of energy for me.
So, I didn’t hold anything back. I went into the “implement room” and came back with a Vermont Country Store bath brush and I asked for a long, hard, OTK spanking with it, one that would push me. I’ve done a lot of hard scenes with Michael in the past, and I trust him both to bring me to a place I want to go and not to bring me too far from where I should be. We negotiated my safety signal (since this works better for me than a safeword) and the scene started.
It was super hard, and super fast: I struggled and wailed and cried out as Michael pinned my hand behind my back. It was everything I wanted it to be. I felt sore and exhausted when it was done, but happy and satisfied with myself.
When the shoot was over and I had finished fussing over the Real Spankings cats, I met up with Paul and we had to hit the road: we wanted to drive as far as Utah that night. I dropped a little bit at one point, but Paul boosted me back up, and seeing big horn sheep in the mountains made me stay alert. We drove until we reached Green River again, then checked into the same motel where we had stayed on the way there.
That night, I slept very soundly, although I must admit that I slept on my tummy. My bottom was still very sore to the touch, and I was exhausted.
I woke up the next morning still feeling sore, but as is often the case, feeling horny as well. It was a particular kind of horniness that I get sometimes, usually after I’ve been doing a lot of shoots: exhibitionist horniness. Paul was already up and dressed, so when he came back in from having been outside looking at the Utah landscape (something quite alien to anything you’ll see in the UK) I told him that I wanted to film a video.
Honestly, I think I decided that I wanted to do a no makeup video that morning because I was too lazy to really get put together, but still wanted to film. Besides, I felt cozy and contented. I had gone to sleep in my favorite old, soft t-shirt and pair of panties, without bothering to take off my tall socks from the day before. Paul set up the camera and I didn’t do anything more to get ready than run my fingers through my hair.
So, I started to masturbate, the way I would if there was no camera there, mixing fingering myself through my panties with some pillow humping. I felt a flush of invigoration, knowing that I was being observed in this natural state. I didn’t worry about being judged, or not looking the way that I “should.” I just existed, vulnerable and fine with that.
Later, I looked at the stills that we had taken after the video and it felt a little odd to see, now that I was out of that moment. I had pulled the gaudy, motel bedspread and the sheets out of place in my passion, and my bottom was a mixture of bruises, cane welts and lines from where I’d slept. My hair was a mess, and without makeup, my face really showed how flushed I become with arousal.
I wasn’t used to seeing myself look this way in an image online, instead of the mirror as I sleepily got ready for the day. I felt a bit shy to share this, but it also felt like something special. Like, despite the fact that I never undressed in the video, I was truly being naked on the internet again.
I’m not going to make a habit of doing this sort of thing, but it was a fun boundary to push. That’s not to say that I’ll never do it again. Want to see me at my most vulnerable? You can get the video here.
It’s been a long time since I wrote a “Kink of the Week” post. KOTW, in case you don’t know, is run by the blog Kink and Poly. It’s an open discussion where everyone is invited to write about their personal experiences, opinions, thoughts and fantasies relating to a particular kink. I used to write KOTW posts all the time when I was a more active blogger. After I stopped being able to put as much time into writing, KOTW went on hiatus for a while, but now, it’s back! There was one topic before this one that I missed (just because I didn’t have a lot to say on it) but now, there’s a topic that suits me extremely well and I’m excited to write about: school uniforms.
School Uniforms are one of the things in the world that I fetishize the most. It can be an important part of a spanking scene or fantasy to me, but I also enjoy wearing them on their own. Like I sometimes do, I’ve created this visual aid to describe my feelings towards spanking and school uniforms:
As usual, I made this in about 45 seconds, so it isn’t exactly scientific.
I’ve created a venn diagram which shows my interest in spanking and my interest in school uniforms, and how they overlap. I’ve scaled the the two circles in order to properly show the way they relate. While scenes involving school uniforms take up a fairly big chunk of my spanking fantasies and play, they certainly aren’t taking up anywhere near all of it. However, the bigger piece of my school uniform related activities involve spanking. It’s also scaled down because it’s less of a significant kink for me, although it’s still one of the most important ones for me.
Besides being something that I enjoy playing with a lot, school uniforms have been on my mind for a long time. Although I almost feel like I was born with an innate interest in spanking, I wasn’t interested in school scenes at all until I got to be a little older. My original fantasies were all domestic. The kind of schools that would later become my fantasies didn’t exist for me yet. I went to a very relaxed public school, where none of my teachers were stern or serious and I could not imagine corporal punishment being used there. We did not wear uniforms. I don’t remember when I even became aware of school uniforms, or when I began to desire to have them. I do, however, know that when I was still in elementary school, I had obtained my first school uniform, which I sometimes wore like regular clothes despite it not being required at my school. It was a navy blue jumper (pinafore) with a pleated skirt and a white blouse underneath. I absolutely loved it, but it made me feel strangely like I was being naughty or inappropriate when wearing it. Wearing it lead to all sorts of complicated fantasies about being sent away to a very stern and serious school where spankings were given out regularly!
My interest in everything school related only got stronger as I aged, and I played complicated school pretends, set myself play-homework assignments and imagined strict punishments for any failings on my part! It was sometime during this period of my life when I discovered Roald Dahl’s autobiography, Boy. Within a few minutes of picking up the book I had learned about caning, and my fantasy world was forever changed. Once the English school fantasy was introduced to my mind, it took over like an invasive species. It was instantly at the top of my mental food chain. A large part of the fantasy for me involved the uniform, and the specifics of it. Unlike the short and suggestive skirts that I often prefer to wear nowadays, I fantasized about a very conservative uniform with lots of details: special socks and panties, shiny black mary jane shoes, a plaid skirt, a starched white shirt with every possible button buttoned, a tie, a blazer with a fancy, heavily embroidered insignia, a hat. A large part of the fantasy was the aspect of having multiple girls in matching outfits. It felt like we were unified and all on the same team. I think it also appealed to a desire for a sense of equality with my peers, as I was a strange, outcast girl who sat alone on the edge of the playground reading books. In my fantasies, I was equals with every other girl in my school and was often a ringleader in creating trouble, although sometimes I instead was the teacher’s pet.
As I became a teenager and then a college student, my interest in this only intensified. I now had the means to actually buy the things that I wanted, and I had discovered both internet spanking videos and spanking story sites: Mary Catherine Whitney’s St. Francis School For Girls story series had a huge impact on me. She seems to share a lot of my feelings about uniforms, and reading her descriptions made my mind wander in all kinds of wonderful ways. I also began to have privacy in my life, and I experimented with simply wearing as complete of a school uniform as I could find for myself. It was different than it was when I was a child. My feelings had become much more intense and I had grown increasingly shy and private about my spanking/school girl fantasies. Dressing in school girl clothes had started to feel far more taboo. I couldn’t “get away with it” anymore. And as I got older and the clothing I wanted to wear stayed the same, I began to notice a gap between the age I wanted to pretend to be when “playing school” and the age that I actually was. I took comfort in this slightly regressive play. It felt safe and somehow made the fantasy stronger.
Now that I’m actually playing on an extremely regular basis, and have been for years, school uniforms haven’t lost any of their significance. These sorts of scenes can create a lot of different emotions for me, depending on which aspect of the kink they focus on. Here are some of the things that I enjoy about this kind of play.
Formality: There’s a difference, in my mind, between a caning given to me when I’m wearing regular clothing and one given when I’m in a school uniform. The second seems more formal, and in my mind it becomes inherently more severe. It’s also hotter. I find the feeling of formality and even austerity that comes into play in most of my school roleplay scenes exciting and yes, erotic. When someone is being cold and harsh with me, especially when he or she is also dressed formally, it makes my knees shake. These formal school scenes are the core of my school fantasy, and they’re made even better when I’m playing with someone like Paul who has excellent technique as a Top. It’s clean, calm and precise, but oh so painful. Call me by my last name. Touch me as little as possible to do what you have to do. Send me away when you’ve finished. Yes.
Vulnerability: Depending on my character or the intended age of my uniform, playing this way can make me feel much more vulnerable than the average scene. This is the age play aspect: when I’m dressed this way, I’m just a helpless young girl. My misbehavior might be small, my punishment might not even be that severe, but it’s a very big deal. I find myself reacting more to spankings when I’m in this headspace, crying easily and apologizing profusely. Sometimes, my vulnerable feeling can be met with the formal attitude, making both of them feel ten times stronger, but other times, in this mood, I want to be punished by someone who has more tender, personal feelings for me. This tends to lend itself well to roleplays where I’ve been sent home from school for something and I’m being punished at home (although still dressed for school) by a guardian figure.
Sexuality: I cannot lie: I find school uniforms sexy. I especially find other girls in school uniforms sexy. Especially if we’re wearing the same uniform. It makes me feel like we’re teenagers, and that we’re exploring our sexualities together. That which is meant to be common place is suddenly extremely erotic. I can’t keep my hands away from her white, cotton panties under her school skirt, and she has her hand slipped in between the buttons of my blouse… Oh my, I could go on. I have a particular fetish for sheds. I know this is weird. I like the idea of hiding out behind a building in an institutional setting, being someplace where we aren’t meant to be and having sexy things happen. Of course, we’re likely to get caught and severely punished for this sort of behavior, and that only adds to the excitement.
Taboo: Sometimes, I want to do a school scene which is incredibly dark. I don’t want someone to be formal with me: I want them to be harsh with me. I want them to be cruel to me. I want to be shoved around and man handled. I don’t want to be spanked, I don’t want to be punished: I want to be beaten. I want my uniform stripped off me: if pulling my shirt makes the buttons come off, then I don’t care, I’ll sew them back later, maybe still in character, sitting alone and sniffling. I want this to happen to me for no reason at all, for me to be entirely innocent and not deserving of these horrible things. I often want these scenes to include sexual consensual non consent. It’s dark and awful, but I love it. I take delight in it. It makes me incredibly aroused. Part of this probably developed because a lot of things that used to feel taboo to me just don’t anymore. I can talk about spanking openly in the grocery store and not blush (getting a swat, however, still makes me horribly embarrassed, but that’s a different story). Darker stories like this give me that same sort of rush. Also, I only like to play this way with someone that I love and trust (so, pretty much, I only play this way with Paul, although there are a couple other people who I would play this way with). I’ve mentioned it before: there’s something really hot to me about pretending to dislike someone you actually adore in a scene. It let’s you become someone totally different, and let’s us do things we normally wouldn’t do.
- I *was* wearing a uniform in this scene, before it was stripped off me.
Naughtiness and fun: When school roleplays involve other girls, they often end up being incredibly wild and wacky. We play off each other. We get into mischief. We pass notes. We make faces behind the teacher’s back. We do explicit hand gestures. It’s fun. I’ve spent so much of my kink life trying to be a good girl, and it’s a blast to entirely abandon any semblance of that and just soak up the enjoyment of being a bad little girl. My beloved friend, Bad Alex brings this out in me more than anyone else. Put us together and get us in uniforms and suddenly we’re whispering very rude things, or making “field trips” to the liquor store!
- When I sent this photo to Paul, his response was “Was this taken by a Policeman?!”
Camaraderie: It doesn’t matter how they all feel about each other or whose fault it was: when a group of girls is all in trouble, there’s a sense of camaraderie that can’t be denied. I *love* big, mutli-girl school scenes because of this. Like I mentioned before, once we’re in uniforms, we’re all peers. We’re all the same. It’s a unified group. And when one of us is in trouble, or worse, when all of us are, we feel for the other girls. In these sorts of scenes, I get to experience the emotional ride of getting in trouble and being punished over and over again as I live vicariously through my peers. We get to comfort one and other, holding hands while taking our discipline, maybe, or just sending empathetic glances. You know that your friends know how you feel.
- Christy Cutie, Cali Katerina, Ela Darling, Maddy Marks, me, Heather Green, Cheyenne Jewel: we’re all really feeling for each other at this moment!
Exhibitionism: I mentioned earlier that not all of my school uniform play is spanking play. Sometimes, I like to go out in public dressed in my school uniform. That’s the entirety of the scene: going to Target or a diner (or a liquor store) while dressed up like a school girl. It gives me a huge, exhibitionist rush. I wonder if people can tell that I’m an adult or not. I wonder how they feel about me. I wonder what they think I’m doing. I feel embarrassed, but also exhilarated. During our first vacation together, when we first started dating, Paul had me wear my full school uniform to breakfast at a restaurant with him. I lingered in the car for a moment before getting out, and hoped I wasn’t blushing too much as I walked in. The gusty wind that kept blowing my school skirt up didn’t help me to feel any better. I felt incredibly excited by the whole thing, though, and couldn’t stop squirming in my seat!
I’ll have to make a second post later describing all the kinds of uniforms that I like: fancy ones, plain ones, jumpers, skirts, summer dresses, PE kit, school shoes, school bags, notebooks, bows, insignias and much, much more. American ones, English ones, Japanese ones. You got to see a good sampling of them here, though, and there will surely be more to come!I hope you guys enjoyed this KOTW post. You can check out all the posts on the subject here:
Want to read my other KOTW posts? Check these ones out:
Punishment: The Real Kind
Punishment: The Fun Kind
Experiments with Bastinado
Protocol: Accepting the Concept, Enjoying the Reality
Understanding TicklingWelcome back KOTW! There will be many more in my future. 🙂
Note: This post contains explicit references to F/F sexuality. In fact, it’s the most blatantly sexual post I’ve ever written. If you’re uncomfortable with this, please skip it!
A couple weeks ago, I visited friends in Denver before heading to Chicago for Crimson Moon. I had a great time while I was there. One of the many highlights of the trip was getting to spend time with Amoni. Amoni is, hands down, one of my best friends ever. I feel like a lucky girl to know her, and even more so that I get to hang out and goof off with her a few times a year. One day when we were hanging out, we decided that we needed to go to the store to pick up a few things. Amoni needed to get face wash, so we ended up in that section of the store, where I was distracted by hairbows. Just down the row from there, I saw something else related to hair: brushes.
Now, it’s debatable as to whether or not I actually needed a new hairbrush. I had recently broken one of mine while giving a particularly hard spanking in a session. Despite this causality, I still had three good ones left. So, I was looking kind of casually. Amoni pointed out one with a slotted back, which I rejected. Then this one caught my eye:
It was called the “Goody Heritage Collection” and had a very vintage look to it. It looks very similar to my Mason Pearson brush, except it’s much larger. Quickly opening the box proved that it was indeed made of wood, and although not murderously heavy, delivered a sharp sting when I gave my hand a test swat. It was about $16.00: clearly I needed it.
We finished our other shopping and checked out, then headed back to Tasha and Steven’s house, where I was staying. After a short period of chatting, I got out my hairbrush.
“You should probably spank me with this, to test it out,” I suggested to Amoni, handing it to her. Amoni has spanked me several times before. The first time was under the instructions of an ex-Dom of mine, and most of the ones after that had been in order to make my bottom look red for pictures, an act which we had started to call “pinking” me. One of our first “full formed” scenes had taken place at the local spanking party in Denver the last time I had visited. While we were both dressed as school girls, she had taken me across her lap as she sat on the floor. I was significantly welted from the Real Spankings shoot that I had done earlier in the week, so she started off fairly slowly. When she gave me harder smacks over my welts, I was squirming and struggling:
Especially if she got my thighs!
And so, with the memory of this in mind, I handed Amoni the hairbrush and crawled over her lap as she sat on the bed. Leaving my soft, pink panties on, she started by massaging and rubbing my bottom for a while, before giving me a warmup. The warmup was nice: similarly nice to the spanking she had given me at Scarlet Moons. I felt myself growing very warm indeed: both in the sense that stinging was starting to collect on my bottom and that warmth and wetness were gathering between my legs. In the hopes of being a polite and non disruptive house guest, I’d been refraining from my usual bedtime rituals which, when at home, include a lot of fairly boisterous masturbation. As such, I was particularly horny.
“Amoni,” I suggested, “we should just forget about the hairbrush and do what we did last time, instead. I changed my mind.”
I was blindingly aroused, and her smacks to my tender areas between my legs were making me whine and writhe. Still, I didn’t explode with orgasm the way that I had last time. Finally, she stopped spanking me for a moment. For a half second, I thought that she was reaching for the hairbrush, which seemed like a very mean thought at the moment. Instead, she gently stroked her fingers across the gusset of my panties, commenting that they were particularly wet and making me blush. She began to stroke my clit through the soft, wet material, as I remained lying over her lap, my bottom high and sore from having been spanked. Thinking about the fact that I was already quite sore, I suddenly focused on a single thought:
After I come, I’m going to get the hairbrush.
As it was a new implement, I had no idea how much it was going to hurt, but getting a hairbrush spanking is never entirely friendly. My sudden focus on my fear of the impending hairbrush spanking only shortened the amount of time before it arrived: I grew more and more aroused, panting and shaking until her simple ministrations made me tip over the edge, yelping, wriggling and calling out in ecstasy.
After a few moments of catching my breath and cuddling over her lap, Amoni announced that it was time for the hairbrush. She started fairly lightly, but even the gentle smacks stung. Because that’s what hairbrushes do: they sting. They concentrate a lot of sting into one relatively small area and push it in so that you can’t ignore it. This particular brush had a less shiny surface than a lot of the hairbrushes that I’ve been getting spanked with recently, and I could feel the difference. It had a less sharp sting than its shiny counterparts. Although not extremely weight bearing (I would still put it in the “light weight” category) it didn’t have much cushioning, so it gave a little thud on each of the harder smacks. I soon was crying out in pain, my bottom feeling swollen and hot. Not wanting to give me TOO hard of a spanking, not too long after I began to struggle, Amoni stopped and gave me some after care.
It’s a very good hairbrush. I’m certainly glad that I bought it. 😛
♥
The day after Paul arrived back home happened to be Valentine’s Day. It was positively joyful to wake up in the morning next to him, knowing that he was really here and that we’d be spending the whole day together. The day was beautiful out: sunny and warm. I made breakfast and we spent the morning and early afternoon relaxing and cuddling. At dinner time, we headed downtown to go to a favorite restaurant.
Now, I hadn’t been spanked for non-professional reasons the entire time that Paul had been gone: about three months. I was antsy for as much attention as possible, and I couldn’t help but let this show in acts of naughtiness while we were out. I didn’t do anything serious, but I was obviously a bit hyperactive, and I pushed tiny boundaries: I ran from the car to the elevator in the parking lot. I pushed all the buttons in said elevator. I was impatient to get inside and get to dinner (all due to excitement, of course!) and I may have whined a bit. While I didn’t act out much in the restaurant itself, about halfway through our meal, I discovered that the table wasn’t exactly even, and by leaning on it, I could make it shift. It wasn’t enough to spill anything or disturb anything, but Paul told me to stop it. So I did. But then I did it again– entirely by accident, of course! And the third and fourth and fifth time were by accident, too. I was very accident prone, until he leaned over and whispered in my ear:
“You’re going to get spanked for being so naughty when we get home. If you keep this up, you’re going to get spanked here.”
I doubted that he would actually spank me in a restaurant, but since it was my favorite place, I didn’t want to risk it. Despite feeling a bit squirmy after this scolding, I sat quietly through the rest of the meal and pushed only one button in the elevator on the way back down.
Once we got home, we snuggled up on the sofa for a while. I continued to talk a mile a minute to catch up on all the things that he had missed while gone. Eventually, the subject changed to my earlier naughtiness.
“I think you need to be spanked for making such mischief, and for disobeying me,” he told me, pulling me over his lap as he sat on the sofa and lifting my short, heart-printed dress. I was wearing white cotton panties with pink hearts on them, and he rubbed my bottom gently for a while: it was still slightly tender from having been spanked so thoroughly the night before. Then, he started to spank me. The sound rang through the room, sounding incredibly loud, and I let out a sound which was not just caused by the sharp sting. He continued, slowly and firmly, and I cooed, purred, whimpered and wriggled. I wanted more. I wanted to be spanked even harder, and I wanted it to be faster. He teased me for a few moments, but the spanking grew, and it got exactly that: hard and fast. Soon I was gasping, overwhelmed, unable to process each individual sensation until it grew into one big, all encompassing feeling and I slipped, as if underwater, into a delicate, passive place. I was flushed with arousal and entirely content. After a few minutes, he stopped and leaned in to whisper to me again: “I don’t think that spanking you is enough. I’m going to beat you.” He stood me up and pulled my dress all the way off, enjoying the site of me standing in my panties for a moment before giving me an instruction: “Go get my cane.”
I padded off to the kitchen, blushing in the way that being sent for an implement tends to make me blush. My heart was dancing in my chest: I hadn’t been caned in a long time. Besides, I hadn’t been caned by him in months, and that experience is a different thing than playing that way with anyone else. It’s not just the fact that we tend to play harder together. It’s an emotional thing: I’m far more vulnerable with him, and I was in a state of particularly high vulnerability. I was apprehensive, but in a positive way.
In the white cabinet in the kitchen where the implements are kept (AKA the “Cupboard of Awful”) there are four canes. These can be divided into two categories: “every day” canes and “special” canes. There are two lightweight rattan canes of different lengths which are the “every day” canes. These are used when filming, during sessions, when playing with other people, when traveling and, very rarely, during our personal play. The two “special” canes are fancier, denser, scarier vintage canes. The smaller one is the cane that we use nearly all the time in our personal play. The larger one has never been used: it’s reserved for very serious infractions and I’m somewhat terrified of it. It’s thicker and denser than the cane that Paul usually uses during our personal scenes (both playful and disciplinary) and that cane is incredibly heavy, dense and thick. It also has a lot of emotional attachment, and this mental side of things has a strong effect on me. Without being told, I knew to select this cane, and I brought it back rather awkwardly, thinking about how much it was going to hurt.
Paul took the cane from me and bent me over with my hands on the seat of the sofa. Bent over positions feel more formal to me (as opposed to prone positions, which feel more intimate) and the mix of the formal positioning with my vulnerability and arousal, as well as our seriously intimate emotional connection worked for me. It brought me back to very old fantasies, and I quivered with anticipation. “Open your legs,” he instructed, and I did so, rather sheepishly.
“I’m not going to beat you because you were naughty tonight,” Paul told me. “I’m going to beat you because you’re mine.”
“Yes, Paul,” I affirmed, floating off into a place where I was focused on belonging and couldn’t feel safer.
Then, he began to cane me. The first stroke made me cry out: a mix between a wail and a sharp exhale. It bit and stung, and the pain was growing rapidly. I expected a long pause, during which I would squirm and whimper and then finally calm myself and wait for the next stroke, which would follow. I was taken by surprise when the next stroke followed rather immediately after the first. The parallel pains blossomed, and Paul gave me a short break to catch my breath before landing another pair of strokes. I tried to adapt to this new pacing, but it left me trembling. At one point, after about six or seven strokes, I whimpered out “How many?” In the past year or so, I had become very attached the idea of knowing exactly what was going to happen before it started. Paul didn’t hear my question, I don’t think, and I realized I didn’t actually want to repeat it. I didn’t need to know. I could let things be entirely out of my hands, and just trust him to give me the right amount for what I needed. I found doing this very freeing. Paul and I developed our relationship in the wake of me getting out of something which had stopped being emotionally healthy for me, and I’ve struggled with fears, insecurities and anxieties about things which used to seem simple to me. Paul has been incredibly patient: never pushing me too hard and always making me feel safe. It was rewarding to be able to bask in this safety without some of the nervousness that had been gnawing at me. As such, neither of us know how many strokes I actually took, but I know it was a lot. He continued in this paired fashion, and I cried out and wailed, but didn’t actually break into tears. I was too happy to be in that moment, too filled with adrenaline, and too aroused to go to that place.
Finally, after what seemed like a very, very long time, Paul said “I’m going to give you six more strokes.”
“Six?!” I gasped. I was expecting that he would say one or two, maybe. For a second, this many more strokes seemed impossible, but I quickly accepted it, and I took pleasure in the thought that I would take them as well as I could. Paul instructed me to shut my legs, and I knew that this meant that at least some of these strokes would be on my thighs. I braced myself for this, focusing on the feeling of belonging, of this being something decided by him for me, and of being out of control. I felt another sharp shiver of excitement course through my body. It was followed quite quickly by the first of the six final cane strokes, which landed across my thighs. I shouted: it was shockingly painful. All six of these strokes happened with fairly quick pacing, and I found myself wiggling, squirming, wailing, jumping up and down in a way which was probably rather ridiculous to look at and, all in all, struggling. They were very hard, and I could feel how swollen my thighs were already. I felt each welt rise as I gritted my teeth together, trying to bear the red hot agony that they brought. Then, it was over.
Pretty immediately, I collapsed into his arms on the sofa. Paul held me close, and I felt wrapped up, tiny and very, very loved. I thanked him for beating me, and he stroked my hair and cuddled me as I came down from my endorphin high. Finally, I stood up and gently felt the welts. They felt pretty obvious to the touch, and I wondered how it looked. I suffer from an inability to show just how severely I have been spanked sometimes, and I was afraid that this would look less spectacular than it felt.
“Do I have lines?” I asked Paul. He looked carefully.
“You have a few,” he told me. “If you go look quickly you might be able to see them.” I was disappointed. This was ALWAYS the way it turned out. My stupid bottom not marking up the way it should! I grumbled as I walked to the mirror, where I turned around and saw this:
There was a purple patch where two lines had crossed and the lines on my thighs were very distinctive.
“HEY!” I yelled. “You tricked me!” Paul laughed from the other room.
He then helped me document them in a couple of different lighting situations:
After taking photos, we retired to the bedroom for some time together before going to sleep.
It was the best Valentine’s Day ever. ♥
Hi hi hi!
So, today I was made aware that apparently I wasn’t just getting the aforementioned spanking for not having been keeping up with blogging, but instead, a “severe beating.” Um… *nervous lip biting* back to our regularly scheduled posting and let’s all forget about this incident? Does that sound good to you? Sounds good to me. ^_^
Anyway, I have exciting news to share 😀
Over the past couple of months, Paul and I have been working on a project together. I really like filming videos with him: this was, after all, our original interaction, and there’s nothing better than watching the dynamics between real partners on film. We obviously sometimes film together for Northern Spanking and we’ve done scenes for other sites but, once we moved in together, we wanted to start doing more scenes with just the two of us, and doing them in a more low-key, natural, domestic setting. We wanted to capture the energy of our household and our relationship and to explore many of the various facets there in. I wanted to be able to say “Haha, that would be a funny video, grab the camera and let’s do it RIGHT NOW!” We wanted things that were naturally occurring instead of being pre-designed. We wanted to be able to sometimes do scenes that weren’t necessarily spanking scenes. It was obvious that this content needed its own home on the internet.
We spent a while trying to come up with the name of our future site. Most of this time was spent with Paul asking me what I thought would be a good idea and me saying “I don’t know, I can’t think of anything.” I’m horrible at naming things. I felt impossibly clever when I came up with “Alex in Spankingland” (although it required encouragement from my friend Sophie to convince me that it seemed good to others instead of just me). If I hadn’t happened upon it, this blog would probably just be called “Spanking Alex.” Not very creative.
Paul was the one who came up with the name for new project: Kitchen Sink Spanking. The name derives from a genre of film, television and theater which was popular in the 1950’s and 60’s in England known as “kitchen sink realism.” This genre attempted to create stories which were depictions of the dramas, interpersonal relationships, highs and lows of the daily life of regular people, and were set in apartments or houses, often centering around the kitchen instead of requiring the creation of fancy sets. I think that this fits perfectly with the essence that we were trying to capture.
Everything that we’ve filmed thus far has been in our own home, and we do it with just the two of us there. As such, the camera sits on a tripod and we don’t use a lot of equipment. As such, the films have a very different feel than the formal shoots that we do, but it’s actually very enjoyable. I find them to be delightfully voyeuristic.
Are the films simply snippets from our every day life? Not exactly. I make no claims that these videos occurred naturally, or that they’re “reality porn.” We certainly don’t just set a camera up and go about our daily lives and then edit it down to the parts that include spanking. The clips vary in verisimilitude: some are more fun and allow me to engage in fun-for-everyone whining, foot stamping and petulance (this is fun for everyone… right?!). A couple are quite serious. I like this variety. The first film is a cute story about me being first introduced to a new DD relationship, complete with a lot of the aforementioned protestation and a hairbrush spanking. It’s the first one we filmed, and we had a lot of fun doing it. The second film follows the same story, but in addition to my getting spanked it includes me getting smacked with a kitchen implement on both the fronts and backs of my thighs. This was entirely unscripted. I was surprised by how the scene had become spontaneously worse. 😛 The third, still following the same tale, gives rise to this adorable sadface:
There’s one which is goddamn adorable and simply a replay of a scene which actually happened, in which I went to Zeki’s house, made cookies with her and returned with only the tale of how good they were for Paul, who was clearly in need of biscuits. Justice was served instead:
As we went on making the videos, we started making upskirt films, which I find delightfully naughty and which excite my exhibitionist streak. There are a couple of harder scenes, and then there’s something… different. Over the course of the past eighteen months, my relationship between sexuality and kink has been developing quite a bit. While I previously described these drives as being separate and parallel, as I grew more comfortable with myself and began to have partners who were both involved in my kink life and my sex life, this division slowly began to breakdown. There’s a LOT of writing to be done about this, but 2:00 AM while seated on Sarah Gregory’s couch is neither the time nor place to attempt to tackle this topic. Suffice to say, I’ve begun to enjoy certain combinations of these activities. As such, I decided that I wanted to make my first blatantly sexually charged video. The video is actually quite intense: it’s a disciplinary caning which has a lot of energy, and which stirs up a lot of emotion in me. My bottom was already sore when we filmed this, and the strokes are hard. I cry and wail and get rather pathetic. Throughout the entire scene, though, I was very… er… aroused (and I’m very embarrassed to admit this!) and once my punishment was complete, I went to my room to fix this condition in myself. I must admit, I haven’t watched it (it makes me feel very awkward to think about doing so!), but it’s my only masturbation film out there, and it’s entirely genuine. Curious? Feel free to check it out, and I’ll have more writing about sexy-kink times later.
I do have this deep fear that people will be upset about this change in me, but it was no longer genuine to perpetuate the idea that there are no longer situations where spanking is sexual for me. I hope you all still like me, even though I no longer have a hardline stance on this issue. 🙂
I hope you consider checking out the site, as I’m quite pleased with the results myself!
Now, it’s off to the bath, and then some glorious sleep! ♥
Sex is pretty much the one topic that I don’t post about. Why not? Because I don’t mix spanking and sex, and I feel like a lame-o posting about something that doesn’t have anything to do with the purpose of this blog. I know a few people who successfully write off-topic posts that are very enjoyable, but I don’t know that I’ve reached the point where I’m good enough to pull that off.
Still, sex has made itself relevant to the conversation recently. I’ll explain how in a moment. First, some background.
*I’m polyamorous. All my relationships are open.
*I’m a pansexual. A person’s genital configuration and gender identity aren’t a factor in whether or not I am attracted to them. Somehow, this does not make it easier for me to get laid in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
*My boyfriend/Dominant/primary Top/HoH/favorite person, Malignus, is an asexual. This means that he is not sexually attracted to anyone. We’re romantically involved. We don’t have sex with each other. We don’t talk about sex. I’m pretty sure he’s never seen me entirely naked (except in photos on the internetz). Because of my strict wiring against mixing sex and spanking, this makes for the ideal relationship of the sort that we have.
*I don’t want to have sex with Malignus. At all. Ever. The fact that we have no sexual interest in one and other is a point of huge comfort for both of us. I get really grossed out when people imply that we’re doing it.
*I am in two other romantic relationships, both with sexual components. My boyfriend is on the West Coast and my girlfriend is on the East Coast. I have not seen either since I left California.
*Compared to other people interested in sex, I have a pretty low sex drive. Compared to my spank drive, I have like, no sex drive. I’d be pretty happy with having sex once every week or two.
*I have not had sex with another person in four months.
Four months got to be a bit much for me, and sex got to be on my brain again. I decided to start looking into finding a sexual partner. This has proved extremely challenging.
Here’s the thing: I want to date outside of the BDSM community here, for two reasons. First of all, I’m really lame and vanilla in bed. I do not like to have sex that hurts, even a little bit. If someone smacks my ass during sex, well, they’ve ruined it. Any accouterments of “the scene” (even dumb, sex store versions of them) just don’t belong with sex for me. Sorrryyyyyy! The second reason is drama. The scene here is my primary social circle. Sex between friends can lead to drama. It is my goal to avoid that at all costs.
Due to the second reason that I’ve listed, I don’t want to date people that I work with. Unfortunately, that leaves me with no other people that I know. So, I did what I did every time I’ve moved to a new city: I started a page on okcupid. In New York and Los Angeles, that quickly produced matches in the 90 percent range with interesting, educated people. I uploaded a quick couple of cell phone photos and started to fill out my page.
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| See the watermark? I left that there to prove I’m really on a dating site! |
My page here was kind of like my fetlife profile, only without mention of spanking and way more pretentious/geeky. I’m sure you’re wondering how both those things are possible. I’m not linking to my vanilla identity (even if it doesn’t include my real name at all) here, so you’ll have to use your imaginations. I then answered 75 of the “match questions” in hopes of making the things that are important to me clear.
The site didn’t fail to disappoint me: within 20 minutes of completing this, I got a message from a guy who seemed to be on the opposite side of the fence from me on every issue possible, including things like religion, politics, evolution and birth control. The message simply read “your sexy.” I’ve yet to find any person on there who seems to share any of my actual interests, besides an interest in wanting to have genital contact with another person. How hard is it to find someone who likes Foucault, Terrance Malick, The Mountain Goats, homemade bread or pandas?! I’m not saying I want them all, just one!
The extreme lack of eligible mates in the vanilla dating pool leads me to the main problem, and the reason that I brought the s-word up in the first place. How the hell am I going to find a person outside of the scene who is going to be comfortable with my lifestyle? There’s no way that I can hide it from them. On any given day, I’ve got bruises on my bottom. Furthermore, why would I want to be involved with someone with whom I cannot share this very base part of me? The problem is with finding someone who is willing to accept what I do without wanting to do it with me.
I guess, at the end of the day, I can’t look too hard. My current plan is to consider all my options and not limit myself so much, and be less afraid and more open about who I am with people that I meet. The idea of being more “out” has been pretty appealing to me once I got past the point where I was ashamed of myself as a spanko.
I know that a lot of people don’t have the same sort of arrangement as I do in terms of separating sexual partners and spanking partners, but still: how has dating worked for you, as a spanko? Did your current partner know about your spanko-nature when they got involved with you? How did you bring it up?
Well, talking about sex was awkward. I blushed. The best thing to do when things are awkward is to show the internet your boobs, right?
Oh. That’s not it? Well, it made sense to me!
Today’s Valentine’s day. Both Malignus and I have to work, but we’ll be doing something special earlier in the day. It will probably involve A) romance and B) spanking. Win-win. Expect a more spanking-heavy post tomorrow. 😀
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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