Last month, while I was in New Jersey, Dreams of Spanking released one of my favorite scenes that I’ve ever done. It’s called Playing Truant. We filmed it just under a year ago, when Pandora visited me and Paul in Los Angeles.
There are a lot of different kinds of spanking roleplay scenes that I like. I like positive scenes in which enthusiastic consent is obvious in the roleplay. I like nurturing scenes, with loving but strict discipline being meted out, preferably right before bed to a girl dressed in pajamas. I like strict and austere school scenes, full of formality, apprehension and the inevitability of punishment. I like scenes that get funny, with banter that is hard not to crack up at. And I get to experience these sorts of scenes quite regularly. Chances are, any given shoot I do is going to scratch my itch for an old fashioned, OTK spanking or a school punishment. It might not be my exact fantasy, but it gets pretty close pretty often. And when I’m not filming, it’s very easy to get people to do these sorts of scenes with me. They don’t require anything too complex, and they aren’t particularly challenging for either party to “get into.”
But there’s something else that I’ve always fantasized about, and which has become a much bigger interest of mine in terms of actual play in the past couple of years. That’s dark, non consensually themed scenes. These are scenes that I get to film very rarely, and that’s what I got to do during the shoot in question. I talked a lot about wanting to do this film in the behind the scenes footage that’s included with it, but there’s a lot more on the topic of darker scenes that I’d like to explore.
I’ve been interested in non consensual themes for as long as I’ve been interested in spanking itself. I didn’t know that consensual spanking was even an option on the table when my fantasies first blossomed. Still, because I wanted to be spanked, the characters in my fantasies didn’t offer much resistance to the punishment they were about to receive.
I don’t think my fantasies began to grow truly dark until I was a teenager. By then, I had a pretty decent understanding of the concept that I could enjoy the fantastical idea of something without in some way supporting something negative or dangerous. This is a complicated topic itself, and one for it’s own post at some point, but it was freeing for me when I came to this realization. Many of my fantasies began to center around power that is taken unfairly or used in ways it wasn’t meant to be used. These were my first fantasies to include sexual elements, and that sexuality was always very non-consensual.
When I came into the scene about four years ago, I stepped away from these fantasies for a while. They aren’t commonly portrayed in spanking media, and no one I got to know in the scene played that way. The thought of describing these desires to someone became uncomfortable to me, especially because I hold such strong opinions about consent “in the real world.” Besides, I had no practical experience combining my sexuality and my kink, and I was very uncomfortable with the concept of putting it into practice. I wasn’t sure if I would even like those sorts of scenes in reality, and I didn’t feel comfortable to share that sort of darkness with anyone.
It takes an incredible amount of trust to want to play with someone this way. Specifically, you have to trust that the fantasy you are enacting is just a fantasy, and not a real desire for someone to do harm. You have to trust that the character your partner is playing is a character, and not a revelation of their hidden, true nature. You have to trust them to use the vulnerability you are about to give them only in the ways that you’ve consented to and with your best interests in mind.
At the same time, you have to trust them not to be afraid of you. When you explain to someone that you want to do something which is dark and taboo, you have to trust them not to judge you. You have to trust them to still respect you as a strong and capable person after you’ve shown them that you want to be helpless and victimized in a scene. You have to trust them to find a balance of taking your fantasy seriously while knowing that the character you want to be isn’t the way you want to be treated outside of the fantasy. You have to trust that if you push back and protest and get angry in the scene, that they won’t be hurt or offended in real life. You have to both understand that a scene is a scene, and as long as things go the way they are negotiated, what happens there doesn’t negatively effect things outside of the scene space.
In short, it takes everything that one worries about when going into BDSM in the first place and intensifies it.
The process of building that kind of trust with Paul took place over a couple of months, as we got to know each other. We first started to play together on camera, and that was very liberating. There are clear boundaries set in terms of what is a scene and what is real life when the camera is rolling. When you call “cut!” then it goes back to the real world and you can feel assured that, if the scene is going badly for you, that transformation from scene-space to “real life” will be immediate. There’s also comfort to be taken in the fact that everyone involved knows that what you do in the scene is simply acting. I had a lot of hang ups about resistance vs. being a “good” submissive and taking whatever I was given without reaction at that time in my life, but when I was playing for the camera, none of that mattered. There were a few hiccups as Paul and I transitioned to playing off camera, where I took things too seriously, but he was always supportive and loving towards me, even before we started dating. It didn’t take long before I could just relax and trust him, and once that happened, our play really took off.
Paul and I started actually dating during a time when he was in England and I was in the US, and we were making plans to get together at a cabin for an extended visit. During this time, I watched an incredible amount of spanking porn. It was the most I had watched since I was a teenager. I primarily watched Northern Spanking, but I also watched a lot of Dreams of Spanking and, since I had recently shot for the site and had therefore received a performer account for the first time, I began to explore Nimue’s World. I remembered that Paul had done a few films for this site, so I checked them out.
One of the films which he had acted in was called “I’ve Seen You” and it was very similar to the scene that I ended up doing for Dreams of Spanking. It involved Nimue playing a school girl who behaves sluttily, and Paul being a skeezy business man who was been watching her out the window. He follows Nimue home and, when she won’t respond to his sexual advances, beats her thighs severely with the tawse.
I became pretty obsessed with this film. I even saved it to my phone so I could watch it when I was out of the house. It was pretty much the hottest thing I had ever seen in my life. In my mind, it would have only been able to be hotter if there had been actual “forced” sex involved.
I was able to communicate with Paul about what kinds of scenes I was craving before we got to the cabin, and because we have unprecedented compatibility, what we wanted was very much in line. I relaxed and was able to play without worrying about outside things: that trust had been built, and it was built in a way which was pretty unbreakable. There was one other thing I wanted, though, which hadn’t been brought up before.
Asking someone for something like a dark, non-consensual scene with a lot of resistance and themes of forced sex isn’t the easiest thing to do. However, I had a wonderful tool in starting this conversation: porn. Specifically, I had the scene that he had done with Nimue. When I got up the courage to talk to him, all I had to say was “Remember that really dark scene that you did with Nimue?” Paul, of course, remembered. “I want to do something like that,” I told him. And so we did. Like that. It was magical and perfect, and it became something we can do when we want to.
When Pandora came to visit us last year, Paul and I both shot scenes for Dreams of Spanking. I don’t remember how the conversation came up, but I decided that I wanted to do a scene like this on video. Doing it on video was different only in that I had to worry about what people would be comfortable seeing. I was a little worried that people would be unsettled by some parts of the scene that I wanted to do, but I also kind of give 0 fucks about the limits that other people want to put on my sexuality and figured that Pandora would give viewers fair warning that the film included edgy, consensual non-consent situations.
Before we filmed the scene, Pandora interviewed both of us fairly extensively. This is important when showing people who aren’t familiar with us as people or as a couple a film that has these extreme themes in it, and the fact that I knew Pandora would do this is part of the reason why I felt so comfortable doing this scene for Dreams of Spanking. We both talked for a long time separately, and then together. I feel like it was one of the rare times that I was able to be articulate when being verbally interviewed, although at one point I got a little emotional and teared up when talking about what it’s like to be in a relationship where I’m loved as much as I am in this one.
The entirety of this interview is available for free on youtube. Oh, look, I embedded it for you!
This video is basically a 20 minute documentary on our relationship, which is a pretty special thing to have, when you think about it!
After we finished the interviews, we filmed the scene. In my opinion, it was one of the hottest things that ever happened in history. It was made more hot by the fact that I was aware that I was being filmed, that Pandora was watching this unfold and that Ten was in the other room and could hear us. I imagined strangers on the internet watching me in such a vulnerable state and the thought excited me. I felt wonderful to take what had felt like my ultimate taboo activity and put it in the public eye. It was freeing and liberating.
At one point, while we were in the middle of filming the scene, there was a knock on the door. Paul left me lying naked on the couch and went and opened it. I was afraid that it was the police: I had been yelling and protesting while he was beating me for the past several minutes, after all. Instead, I heard a meek voice say “We are missionaries…”
Paul didn’t break character at all. “That’s nice. Bye,” he said, slamming the door. As he walked back over to me, I realized that he still had the tawse in his hand. No missionaries have come to our house ever since. 0_0 I’m kind of disappointed that Pandora turned the camera off before Paul opened the door. It was pretty epic.
The scene itself was epic, too, and it ended with the implication of forced sexual activity (no, there is no actual penis in the film). This was my idea to include, and the negotiation of it was making it something that Paul was comfortable with filming. I love the fact that this is included in the behind the scenes, too. I think it’s important to show that Tops’ limits are equally as important as those of bottoms.
After a scene this intense, I needed a lot of cuddling, although I wasn’t upset by it. I was actually very joyful, but slightly disoriented from all the endorphins. If you watch the behind the scenes footage, you’ll hear me talking in my happy, childlike voice and giggling as I snuggle on Paul’s lap. That’s another thing that I think is important for people to see: that everything about this scene had a positive effect on me.
The whole point of Dreams of Spanking is that it’s about the women and their gaze, instead of the women being objects for men to view. Every scene that I do is about me, but I’ve never felt like a scene was more about me as a person. This took something that I felt like I had to keep hidden from people and celebrated it. We did it my way, with my partner, in my home. All of the behind the scenes footage shows people who I am. I remember snuggling on Paul’s lap after we filmed this and just feeling good about myself.
Very few people commented on this scene, and a couple of people let me know that, despite all the behind the scenes materials, it made them uncomfortable. But I was elated to see that Girl on the Net wrote about wanting to use this scene as a negotiation tool in a post to the Dreams of Spanking blog. It was particularly exciting to me because if it wasn’t for Nimue’s World, I don’t know if I would have even known how to bring the subject of wanting to play this way up to Paul. I feel like, in a way, I was able to pay that forward with this film. I hope that people who share my fantasies will enjoy the scene, but I hope that others who don’t can still understand the importance of it. There’s nothing wrong with having taboo fantasies that you act out in a healthy, well negotiated, safe way. ❤︎
In all my years (ok, all three years) of my spanking modeling career, there was one thing which I had never done: a video depicting a real life domestic discipline punishment from someone with whom I had that relationship.
That wording sounds a little specific, and it’s meant to be. Nearly all the videos that I do are discipline or punishment themed, but most are obviously roleplayed, creative scenarios. I’ve done a number of videos in which the thing that I’m being spanked for is something which I really did, but this mentally different than actually being punished for something. In order for a punishment to work, there must be two things in place. First of all, the person being punished must recognize the authority (even if temporary) of the person punishing them, and secondly, the person being punished must be sufficiently vulnerable to allow themselves to feel chastised. Most of the time, if a scenario is punitive, these two things aren’t in place.
Now, I specified that I had never done this with someone with whom I was in a real life relationship. I have done one video which was undeniably a real discipline video. It was between Robert Wolf (of Lily Starr Spanking) and myself years ago. Even though Robert and I don’t have a normal disciplinary relationship, I consider him to be an “off chart boss of me”: he’s one of the people whose authority I respect in general, and I’m quite likely to listen to what he says. We’re very close friends and we have a relationship based on mutual respect, so I have a lot of trust for him. In this particular situation, I was frustrated with myself, incredibly vulnerable and feeling the need to be punished, so all the key pieces were there. It was a super intense experience, but I only ever felt like it was the right situation to do this the one time. If you’re interested, you can get that clip here.
On the subject of Lily Starr and Robert Wolf, they got married the other day. They had a small but wonderful ceremony of mostly vanilla people, but Paul, Amoni and I attended, too, Amoni taking (let me just say gorgeous) photos for them. We had an awesome time, and it was a really special occasion. At one point during the reception, though, I got flustered by all the excitement and ended up saying something really rude to Paul. Since we were in vanilla company, he just gave me a look, but I knew entirely what it meant. I may be frequently naughty: making little bits of mischief, whining, stamping my foot and putting trash in Paul’s pocket when we’re out and I don’t have pockets of my own, but ultimately, I’m still very good. There’s a distinct difference between “fun trouble” and “real trouble.” I actually had never gotten in trouble for being disrespectful to Paul before. I DO respect him, and I want him to know that. I want to be polite and show him that I appreciate all the love and care that he gives me. I felt immediately distressed by my own behavior, but I put it away and got back to having fun (and soon, cake!) with my friends.
We got home fairly late that night and were all tired from a long day, so Paul told me that he would punish me the next day. We were also planning on filming clips for Kitchen Sink Spanking the next day, and as I went to bed I thought about what we were going to do for it. Kitchen Sink has always meant to be a representation of (if not our real lives) then our real personalities and styles of play. Sometimes the scenarios are goofy and cute and other times the scenes are severe enough to make me really cry and still others are sexy, but none of them had ever brushed on our actual punishment scenes. I came to the conclusion that this was something that I wanted to try doing. I’ve always felt like discipline was something very private. Sometimes, I don’t want to talk about my punishments explicitly online because I don’t want to share what I did wrong with everyone. In the past, when I was dating my ex, I felt like I couldn’t share my disciplinary scenes because “others wouldn’t understand” or they would be judgmental about the harshness involved (I partially felt that because my ex directly told me this, and partially because they actually were overly harsh and lacking in a certain kind of affection). But now that I’m with Paul, my feelings about this are very different. It’s “hard enough” and certainly very stern, but the whole proceeding is very loving. There’s something special about it. I decided that I felt ready to share this with the internet.
Interestingly enough, I didn’t get a chance to bring this up to Paul because he brought it up to me, and we talked about it briefly. One thing that I’ve always been afraid of when it comes to filming real punishments is that having a camera on would change the way that the actual punishment and aftercare would go, and after talking about it, I felt sure that it wouldn’t. We agreed that we would simply do things the way that we would if there wasn’t a camera. Since Amoni was here, we asked her if she would want to watch and be in the video and she agreed.
Paul set up the camera and left the room and Amoni and I sat on the bed, talking. This is the only part of the clip that seems a little bit contrived, because I knew that Paul was about to come in and punish me, and I think I probably look nervous, because I was. Soon, he came in and scolded me, inviting Amoni (or “Ami” because “Amoni” doesn’t really sound like a name) to watch: since I was rude in front of her, I could be punished in front of her. He was carrying the tawse. I’m sure I’ve talked about this before, but of all the reasonable implements in the world, this is the one that “gets to me” the most. I have long regarded it as being particularly scary, and because it’s an implement that I’ve primarily only had applied to me by Paul, it also carries a lot of emotional weight. And it really, really hurts. It’s heavy and horrible and biting. The design is so simple yet so effective and so unforgiving. I can hardly say the word “tawse” and I feel a little shiver just to type it now.
He directed me over pillows at the edge of the bed and lifted the skirt of my dress. I grabbed Amoni’s hand. Then he gave me the first stroke. I felt particularly vulnerable because I was being watched. However, I was more focused on the fact that Amoni was watching me than the camera, so it was probably a good idea that we had her there (I also really appreciated her hand holding). It only took three strokes to make me burst into real, genuine tears. Why? Because it hurt, for one thing, and the strokes were being applied without any warmup. More importantly, though, I felt horrible for my behavior and I knew just how badly I needed to be punished. I was very, very vulnerable. I felt small and young. I also felt a serious sense of security. There’s security that comes from knowing that if I mess something up, Paul isn’t going to get mad at me or ignore me or push me away. He’s going to punish me, hard, because he loves me, and he knows that I can and will do better than this. The whole thing makes me feel very cared for and safe. I can easily let go of my inhibitions and cry myself out, which is exactly what I did. If you watch the video, it might seem like my reactions are a little over the top. That’s just the way I am when I’m in this headspace. I feel everything strongly and I react the same. Besides, if I haven’t said so before, that horrible thing hurts like nothing else.
By the time we were finished, I was a sobbing mess. Paul sat down on the bed and scooped me up into his lap for cuddling and forgiveness. I continued to cry on his shoulder for quite a while as he assured me that everything was alright and that I was very loved. Honestly, this is the part that I’m happiest to be sharing. I think that the world needs more tenderness in it, especially the spanking world. While I might not feel entirely proud of the way I took the punishment (there’s a lot of wailing) I feel very proud to share this special moment created by my vulnerability and his love for me. Really, this is what Domestic Discipline is all about.
I feel very pleased with the final product of the film. It’s pretty much the most intimate thing that I’ve ever done on the internet, and I love how it shows the whole range of emotion that we go through when doing this.
Will I do more videos like this in the future? Probably. It honestly felt good to be able to share this. It didn’t change the way things went in the least. There’s something wonderfully exhibitionistic about it.
I hope that you’ll consider checking it out if you’re interested. It’s now my favorite spanking video that I’ve ever made. You can see the clip here.
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.
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!
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!)
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!
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… ♥
Before the party, Mike Tanner had written to ellee and I and asked us if we’d be willing to participate in a sales contest during the vendor fair. Due to our nature as good, helpful girls (captains of the Good Girl Society!) we were excited about a chance to help out and started planning ways to do the best job at this ever. This involved wearing matching outfits, of course, since ellee is my most beloved twinsie and we’re very good at matching. She picked out some adorable pink sweater tops for us to wear with school uniform skirts, and she also got both of us and Beth matching heels that look like bunnies. They’re basically the greatest thing ever created by science (science OBVIOUSLY goes into making shoes. Duh). We got ready and looked incredibly cute, if I must say so myself. In a horrible turn of events, no one took a photo of us. WTF. I don’t even have a response to that. Oh well.
We went down to the fair, where we found out that we were vending for Strictly Spanking, which was kind of an honor since it meant that the organizers trusted us enough to assign us to their table. Miranda explained what we were to do to help the sales and then we got to work, chatting up everyone from friends to strangers, bouncing around energetically, suggesting to the bottoms that the soothing lotion was indeed the most soothing and telling the Tops that they could test evil implements on us. I was bruised and sore from my scene with Stephen just a little while earlier, but I was still full of bounce, so I didn’t really mind the fact that I found myself bent over the front table with my school skirt lifted again, and again and again, often next to ellee (ok, who could mind that?!)
Doing this forced me to be outgoing, which isn’t always my natural state (I’m technically an introvert who learned extroversion, and now I can happily exist in both states). At one point, I re-met someone that I had met briefly at Shadowlane: the aforementioned Mr. Allen. I didn’t remember that I already kind of knew him, but once I made the connection, I realized that I found him very enjoyable and I was happy that he was there. We chatted for no more than one minute before I had a strange, almost out-of-body experience. I heard my voice, as if coming from somewhere other than my mouth, as if controlled by something other than my muscles and breath:
“Would you tawse my hands later? I was told that you’re good at that.”
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Brain! I thought to myself as soon as I had finished speaking. Now is not six months from earlier! Now isn’t even six hours from earlier! What’s wrong with you? You can call it morbid curiosity. You can call it a lack of self preservation. You can call it the inability to deny what I want, an obsession with pushing limits, insanity, whatever you want. There’s just a certain… something about me at times like these.
Mr. Allen gladly agreed to introduce me to this time honored practice and instructed me to find him later. I was then swept up in the whirlwind of whatever it was I was doing at the moment and didn’t have time to worry too much about what I had gotten myself into.
As the vendor fair came to a close, we were instructed to walk around and encourage people to come to the table who may not have otherwise. I was feeling pretty good about the work that ellee and I had done. ellee was amazingly chipper and outgoing, and she really kept me at my perkiest as we strived to compete against the other tables. Besides, she looked really good in her sweater. 🙂 Now, I split off from her and went around to talk to strangers by myself so she could cover different territory. At some point, Bad Alex came up and started following me around like a lost puppy. Instead of being useful and encouraging people towards my goal, she started being counter productive “Don’t buy anything!” she told people. “We want them to lose!” “I want to see Alex get spanked on stage”– that was the punishment for losing, and I wasn’t all that concerned about that, nor was I all that interested in the physical prize for winning (a bottle of lotion). I just wanted to be a winner. I can get horribly competitive. I wanted ellee and I to win and that was all I really cared about. I started to get pretty annoyed at Bad Alex, and I insisted that it wasn’t funny. As I took a moment off to socialize with Lucy and Stephen again, she came up and started telling them not to buy anything from me. “Alex!” I shouted. “Stop being such a cunt!”
And that was how in one single motion I found myself no longer on my feet, and instead over Lucy’s lap, getting scolded about how she KNEW that I wasn’t supposed to talk to my friends that way and that such language was most unladylike. She was, of course, correct on both counts. Bad Alex was FAR TOO SMUG about this turn of events, though: a trend that will continue throughout the story of this adventure.
General advice: there are certain words that it’s just not worth saying to your friends at a spanking party.
Soon, the contest was over and the winners were announced, with me and ellee bringing our team to the winning position. There was much rejoicing, and ellee did her patented bounce.
I don’t remember if the next part of this story actually happened in this sort of chronological order, but it seems that way in my memory, so it’s going that way in the post. 🙂
That evening, I was in and out of suite parties, running around, playing with friends and visiting with others. I got to know a few new people and did the sort of stuff I usually do at a party. At one point, I was running around on a mission to find Stacy because she had something that her husband needed, and I ran into Mr. Allen. He asked me if I was ready for that which I was due, and I politely explained that I had to run and find Stacy, then disappeared again. Just seeing him refreshed my memory on the subject that I had previously put out of my mind. Later that night, I walked into a suite in which he was hanging out, accompanied by none other than my worst behaved counterpart, Bad Alex. Part of me wanted to come up with some excuse for why I wasn’t going to get my hands tawsed. I had to go somewhere. I wasn’t feeling well. I had suddenly remembered that I was REALLY REALLY SCARED of this. But I knew I wasn’t going to chicken out. I knew that I could be calm about it. If I wanted to do this enough to ask for it, I wanted to do it enough to go through with it.
Holy hell, I was scared though. I’d heard all sorts of stories and had talked to various people, and everyone said that nothing compared to the pain of that. Nothing. It was the worst. My “big game” that I talk about my ability to take pain is all about spanking. I seriously tear up if someone high fives me too hard. Somehow, though, I agreed that I was going to have my hands tawsed, and some of the process was explained to me. I originally thought that a girl I had just met for the first time, Em, wanted to get her hands tawsed again and was volunteering to go before me, but I later discovered that Mr. Allen had conscripted her to serve as a demonstration. Somehow we ended up in a line with Em at the front, me in the middle and Bad Alex ended up behind me. (Em is extremely nice and I’m glad I got to know her over the weekend, but I feel a bit guilty now that she got tawsed on my behalf! Awww!)
The idea of the three of us lined up to get this made it a lot more comfortable for me, because it ritualized it beyond that which already existed. It was explained that Em would be getting one on each hand and that the Alexes would each get two per hand. The tawse that Mr. Allen had for these purposes was an authentic, old one, stamped with an H for “heavy” and it had clearly been used many, many times before. I shuddered just to look at it. At this time in my life (not at present, any longer) the tawse was the one scary implement that I wasn’t really well acquainted with. There will always be strange new things that pop up, legendary implements, particularly cruel versions of something familiar, but this was all around strange to me, and only accompanied by a whole host of stories. I could see it there, mocking me. I knew what Mr. Allen was going to do to me with it, but I didn’t know how it would feel. I could imagine, or so I thought. My heart pounded hard. I was sweating a little.
Em came forward and put her hand out, supporting it with the other one. She had obviously done this before. Mr. Allen lifted the tawse and brought it down against her palm in a motion that didn’t even look particularly aggressive or violent. There was obviously finesse involved in it, but the thing seemed to be mostly carried by gravity. Em reacted much less strongly than I would have expected, shaking her hand a bit, and exclaiming verbally, but then she swapped her hands and took her second stroke, repeated the same level of reaction, thanked Mr. Allen and then went to spectate. I was trembling as I walked forward to take the position at the front of the line, even though her reaction hadn’t been all that bad. Mr. Allen instructed me regarding how to position my hands, then he said:
“This is going to hurt very, very much. Don’t move your hand.”
There’s nothing like telling me that something is going to hurt to get into my head. Such a simple thing, usually the honest truth, but I have almost no defense against it. It melts my toughness. My heart pounded and pounded. Then Mr. Allen raised the tawse and brought it down on my palm.
Then I exploded.
Or so I felt. I at least screamed a little. I had never, ever, ever felt something that hurt so much. Not the longest, hardest caning in my history. Not a heavy ebony hairbrush on my thighs. Not being smacked on the tender areas near the backs of my knees. Nothing hurt like this. It was nauseating. It was disorienting. I don’t remember moving, but I discovered that I had my hand clutched between my thighs, because it was the sort of pain that I simply had to apply pressure to. There was no other choice. Holy. Fuck. I trembled.
“Other hand,” Mr. Allen instructed. I looked up at him pleadingly, but he had a stern and serious face. That confidence and his unbending nature comforted me, pacifying me enough to stand up straight again and put my other hand out. I forced it as far away from my body as I could, looking away to avert my eyes from what was going to happen.
That’s what happened. I crumbled, sort of bent in half, rocking and rubbing my aching, burning, terribly sore hands together. I knew that there was a crowd of people around, that we were playing in a suite, but I wasn’t aware of anything around me. Just the hurting. It was all that my mind could process. I didn’t even feel entirely in control of the parts of my body that I normally am, unsure of how to breathe or move my muscles.
“I can’t take two more,” I told Mr. Allen. This was huge. I’m horribly proud. It’s rare for me to beg, to protest, or try to get out of something. I am, after all, the kind of girl who intentionally gets herself into situations like this. But here, I felt that I had met my match. This hurt too much. I wasn’t tough enough for two more. I just couldn’t. There was no way. I shook my head, tears soaking down my face and gathering on my sweater.
“You can and you will,” Mr. Allen told me. “You’re going to. Put your hand out.”
I wanted to protest more. I couldn’t. I might die. I might *actually* explode. My hands might come off. I was entirely beyond rationality. Instead, I felt comforted by his statement, and my panic started to fade. I felt the tranquility of being out of control, feelings of comfort in the inevitable that I had been taught to embrace long ago. I could do this. I could.
I put my first hand out again. It already felt about twice it’s usual size. I closed my eyes and tried to relax into what was going to happen. I shrieked anyway, quickly devolving into sobs again.
Somehow, I got my other hand up without having to be coaxed, with Mr. Allen praised me for before bringing the tawse down the last time. This one felt like the worst one, both my hands swollen and red and sore, my world illuminated with a white strike of agony. I fell to my knees with both hands clutched between my thighs, trying to press the hurt out of them, trying to squeeze them back to feeling their normal size. I was concerned for a moment that I might throw up, but I recovered remarkably quickly as a powerful, almighty rush of endorphins came and took me over. Mr. Allen went away for a moment and returned with a bowl of ice. I buried my hands in it, and I felt infinitely better.
“You took that well,” he said as he comforted me. I laughed. “No, I really didn’t.” I think it was the least well I had ever taken anything.”Well, you took it. That’s something,” he said with a supportive smile.
He told me that he knew that there was no way that I was going to be alright with myself if I didn’t take the second half of the tawsing, which is why he had been so insistent.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 was very glad for this. I needed it. I needed that extra push. I was proud of myself in this moment, although I did acknowledge somewhere that this was no longer a limitation in my mind, and it could potentially happen again, but I tucked that away in case I ever needed something to be afraid of. 😛
To give insult to injury, it was now time for Bad Alex to get her hands tawsed. She took her four strokes without event, without struggle, with hardly even any sound. She gave 0 fucks about the exact same experience that had just knocked me off my feet, literally. Fuck you, Bad Alex. (Note: I love Bad Alex. She’s a wonderful friend. But fuck you for having a better pain tolerance than I do, and for your ability to get me into trouble no matter what.) At least she didn’t gloat. Much. ♥