It’s time for me to wrap up my Year in Review with the final few months! Hooray!
September:
Bad Alex got me caned again. You will read about this in a moment.
September was a funny month. Paul arrived in Los Angeles, and I was overwhelmed with joy at this. Although we were together and I was extremely happy about this fact, our lives were still very much in a transition period. We were staying at Rafa and Zeki’s place and sleeping on a sofa-bed which was not really meant for long-term use as a bed. All of my things remained packed in my car and we were living out of suitcases. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but I was still happy. We were originally going to move into the same building as them, but decided to look into renting houses instead for a bit more privacy and a heightened feeling of domesticity. We found a place and went through all the infinite hassles associated with moving, and spent the rest of the month doing things like finding appliances and furniture and doing approximately a million and ninety eight loads of laundry (since everything smelled like a stuffy car). Finally, by the end of the month, we were basically moved in.
When we first arrived in Los Angeles, our playing was at the minimum, since we were not only staying in someone else’s space, but in a vanilla home. We still did sneak in a couple of scenes, though, including this one, which has been previously unshared:
One day, I was missing Bad Alex quite a bit so I decided to say hi to her. I did this by texting her the message “Suck a dick” because this is the way that Bad Alex and I treat each other.
Bad Alex is that friend.
Bad Alex and I then had some enjoyable banter and chatted a bit. Unbeknownst to me, however, she had sent Paul a carefully worded and very formal Fetlife message letting him know that I had “suggested that she do something very unsanitary” and that she was “concerned” about my status as a good girl if I continued using this sort of language. Anyone who had ever met Bad Alex would roll their eyes and groan at her attempt to make herself sound like the good one in this friendship. Unfortunately, at this point, Paul had never met Bad Alex.
I don’t mean to say that he actually believed that I was being bad, but he certainly wasn’t going to let a perfectly concocted scenario for me to be in (not for serious) trouble pass him by. Here began a very unfair development in my life in which Paul started “believing” whatever Bad Alex told him and conveniently looking in the other direction when she was antagonizing me. Most unfair thing ever. Harrumph!
On this particular afternoon, it just so happened that no one was in the place where we were staying except for the two of us. Admittedly, Bad Alex must have cared very much about me getting punished, since she put careful work into her tattling letter of lies and misrepresentation. Paul kept a straight face while he scolded me about not using such harsh language and treating my friends with more respect than that, then he marched me into the room in which we were staying and retrieved his cane from one of the suitcases. I hadn’t been caned by Paul since June, and my heart was aflutter with anticipation. Even when it’s a play punishment as opposed to real discipline, Paul takes a very serious attitude towards my correction and I felt sheepish and somehow, a bit shy when he instructed me to strip down to my panties and lie over the bed. Being undressed made me feel vulnerable, but it also made me feel more pacified, and I slipped into a comfortably submissive headspace. Where a moment ago, I had just been inches away from a tantrum at how unfair it was to listen to anything that Bad Alex said about me (or really, anything ever), I had given up on my protests and accepted the fact that, “fair” or not, I was going to be caned. First, I got a short but firm spanking to serve as a warmup, and I was shocked by how sensitive my thighs had become. Just a few sharp smacks to them made tears start to roll down my face. This was a good thing. I needed this, and I knew it.
This isn’t to say that I didn’t resist the caning which followed, because I certainly wiggled and cried out and came questionably close to breaking position.The strokes were fairly hard, and I felt the impact deep in my muscles. As I lay still and cried, I felt an enormous sense of relief, though. A lot of stress had accumulated in my life, and there’s nothing which reassures me more than being lovingly beaten. I felt tremendously secure, as painful, fiery reminders of how loved I am lit up my bottom and the backs of my thighs. I had entirely forgotten that I was being “punished” for my rude behavior towards my bad counterpart until all the strokes had been delivered and I was getting my requisite cuddles, when Paul reminded me that I was to take a picture of my welts and send it to her. On a certain level, I probably should have thanked her for facilitating a scene which had left me in such a good place, but I had too much pride for that, and I included many scrunchy faces in my message containing the above photo. But, I suppose I’ll say it here, what the hell. Bad Alex is a very good friend, and just like sometime I need to fall under her bad influence, I also sometimes appreciate all the effort that she puts into seeing me getting properly punished, even if it’s for things I didn’t do. ^_^
October:
For some reason, I ended up drinking naked in my room during October CCM.
October was a very happy month, as it was the first one that we spent fully in our new home. Moving in was mostly done, and I had a chance to explore the neighborhood a bit more. Unfortunately, one day I tried to walk to Target and instead, ended up walking two plus miles in the wrong the direction without any water, on a hot day, and while I was wearing inappropriate footwear for doing miles of walking. I had to call Paul to come rescue me when I realized that my feet were about to bleed, although I knew that I would be in big trouble for my impromptu misadventure. This is what happened after he did:
“Are you mad?” I asked, my voice small and meek.”You’re going to be punished when we get home” was his only response. We drove back in silence. I could do nothing but think about how thoughtless this had been. I’d interrupted Paul’s working. I had entirely failed at taking care of myself. Tears ran down my face, and I sniffled a bit.
As soon as we got in the door, Paul turned to me and said “Go to your room.” I went into our bedroom and flopped on the bed. I didn’t want to stand up. My feet hurt too much. I was hot. I was tired. I was in big, big trouble. I lay there like a lump, doing an activity which really can’t be described as anything but “sulking.” In the seeming eternity (but actually one or two minutes) before Paul came in I could hear him moving around in the kitchen. Then I heard the sound of a cabinet being opened and shut again, and my heart began to pound.
There’s a shallow, white cabinet in the kitchen. It’s separated from the other kitchen cupboards and obviously original to the house, but it’s only about three inches deep. I’m not sure what it was used for, but it’s become the official storage place for some of our meanest implements.
I wanted to mope about the fact that I was about to be seriously corrected, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I knew that I deserved it. Still, my tummy hurt.
Paul finally came into the room holding a cane. I had sort of known that was going to be the end of this story from the moment that I realized that I had messed up so badly, but the reality of the situation was sinking in very quickly.In addition to feeling upset about how thoughtless my actions were, I had been really focused on worrying that Paul was mad at me for inconveniencing him. Having to stop your work to go rescue a silly girl who got herself into a mess is bound to annoy anyone. But once he began to scold me, I realized that he was much more upset about the fact that something bad could have happened to me. I felt very loved as he lectured me about thinking before I did things and taking care of myself. I could feel how precious I am to him, and how he won’t let any harm come to me, even through my own poor judgement.
Then he ordered me over the bed and began to spank me. While technically a warmup, he started hard and furiously. In my tired, vulnerable state, I pretty instantly started to sob hard, offering absolutely no emotional resistance to the spanking. I needed it. I knew that.
I felt impossibly sore after the warm up, but this was probably mostly because of my mental state at the time. Then Paul ordered me to kneel up on the bed, which I did quickly. I kept my feet off the edge of the bed because they had gotten filthy as I was walking around on the dusty sidewalks in flip flops. Paul noticed this, too, and said “You’ll clean your feet after this,” which I quietly affirmed through my tears. “Get down on your elbows,” he told me, and this made me cry harder, but I did as I was told. This position means only one thing: strokes to the tender area where my thighs and bottom meet. Paul then tapped my bottom with the cane before simply saying “Ten.”
The first stroke startled me into some sort of clarity for a second, although after the initial crack, during that long moment when the pain begins to built and develop, I felt overtaken by hurting and began to cry again. The next two or three were quickly paced– no time for one to finish building before the next and I could make no attempt at processing them. I wailed. After five strokes, he gave me a little break, pressing his hand against the welts in the same motion that I do when a beating is over. The pressure seems to hold the pain in for a moment. I caught my breath, but didn’t slow my sobbing.
The next two strokes were to that aforementioned tender area. I did my best not to yell, but I felt an overpowering warmth: burning, biting, pinching, gnawing heat. The rest of the strokes came in quick succession, and after each one, my cries became louder and more desperate.
It’s a very good thing that we live in a house instead of an apartment. I’m….noisy.
When the whole thing was over, Paul immediately sat down on the bed and pulled me onto his lap, holding me close to him. I wiped tears all over my face in some attempt of cleaning myself up and apologized over and over. He stroked my hair and told me he forgave me.
October also brought Crimson Moon’s Halloween party, which was amazingly fun. There were a lot of extremely fun events, and the party had such a relaxed, drama-free environment. Drlectr and Mama Blue ran a “Detention Room” roleplay, and I loved waiting outside the “office” to be called in to be punished, being scolded and paddled by a very stern Principal Lectr and having Mama Blue witness the entire proceeding! There was also Trick-or-Treating, and Thursday Night, Bad Alex and I had a ton of fun hiding alcoholic drinks in our treat bags as we ran from door to door. The majority of the treats bore stickers, though, and every time you grabbed a stickered treat from the bag that your “friendly” neighborhood Top was offering you got spanked! In the end, we ended up taking Naughty Freckles to CP Court for putting so many damn stickers on the candy. Speaking of Court, Strict Dave gave his usual awesome performance, although the majority of the cases were against Bad Alex. At one point, she flipped someone off while on the stand and Strict Dave gave her “the seven foot strap” for contempt of court. That was quite impressive to watch!
At this party I also got to witness Robert Wolf proposing to Lily Starr, and their “scene marriage” which followed. At the time, Robert and I hadn’t been able to play together in about a year because our party schedules never seemed to line up, but afterwards, I assured him that he had made me cry plenty that weekend! They’re one of my all time favorite couples. It’s so obvious that they have boundless love and respect for one and other, and being around the two of them makes my heart so happy. My face was wet with happy, heartfelt tears by the time Yoni, who officiated the scene marriage, announced that Robert could “now spank the bride”!
I got an ear infection as the party drew to a close, and flying home with it was definitely not fun. I was pretty insistent that it was going to go away on its own and that I did not need medical attention, but eventually, I had to admit that it was one of the more painful things which had ever happened to me and I needed a doctor. Once I had antibiotics and eardrops, I was on the mend, but I was home sick on Halloween night. I was very glad I had gotten my Trick or Treating in beforehand!
November:
This photo has nothing to do with the story I chose for this month, but it took place in November and I have no photo from the night in question!
November introduced a concept which was obviously fairly new to me: staying home. I spent the entire month in Los Angeles, and the next two weeks, too! This six week “at home” spell made for the longest time that I had been in one place all year, and it was a wonderful feeling. I did lots of sessions, a handful of shoots and Paul and I spent a lot of time working on our new project: Kitchen Sink Spanking. We did a lot of playing off-camera, too, including a very fun roleplay scene one evening which I hadn’t written about before:
One night, Paul and I were hanging out on the sofa hanging out, without any real plans for what we’d be doing with the rest of our evening. I had my planner out, probably because we’d been discussing when I had what going on. I use the same kind of day-planner that I did when I was actually in high school. I learned to organize my life with it very effectively then and I just never bothered to change. If it works, why mess with it? I pointed out to Paul that it had all sorts of handy information in the back: state capitols, frequently misspelled words and more. This turned into some impromptu quizzing, which I inedibly failed at (geography is my weakest subject, and despite being very good at writing, I sometimes kind of fail at spelling). This, of course, lead to me getting spanked. This was very fun, and there was no reason for it to stop there, so Paul started looking for other things to quiz me on.
“Well, if you’re going to ask me more questions, I’m putting on a uniform so we can do this properly,” I announced, and I went off to find one. Paul also changed, going for a serious look in a shirt and tie. We then began a roleplay which evolved totally organically, without us having to discuss what we’d be doing at all. It turned out that I had gotten thrown out of school for biting another student (guilty as charged, by the way, if the other student was Mila or Bad Alex, who I may or may not have bitten again just the other day) and I was being given in-home instruction during my suspension. I now had to take a test to see if I’d be permitted back to school based on my efforts while homebound. I’m pretty sure that Paul thought that I’d be able to answer most of the questions that he asked during the test, but I actually couldn’t. I think that English and American educations are pretty vastly different. Or maybe it’s just a result of the fact that I took my post-secondary education at a Liberal Arts school. I can tell you the social and political concepts behind most (well, that seems arrogant. Many?) historical events, but when Paul asked me for the dates of things, the best answer I could give was “fuck if I know!” International Capitols? I don’t think I *ever* studied those in school. I was in pretty big trouble when I realized that the section I was doing best on was math. Oh dear.
Suffice to say, I didn’t get enough points to allow me back into school, and I engaged in some serious misbehavior in the process. Mr. Kennedy went off to find something with which to address these issues and he returned with a heavy leather paddle, which I insisted was not for use on me and had been left in the house after having been used to punish some other young lady who lived there before me. This didn’t fly, and I found myself getting soundly spanked. I was soon repentant, and I promised that I’d do better, bite no one and show respect for my school if allowed back. Satisfied with this, Paul sat me down to write lines while he stepped out for a moment. I *tried* to sit quietly and write “I am not a bear” (being a bear had been an excuse for biting) over and over again, but eventually, boredom took its toll and I finished off with “I am not writing this anymore” instead. Unsure of what I would do next, since being caught with this assignment unfinished would surely lead to more correction, I went and hid in on the floor of the study’s closet with the door shut. This would have worked out for at least a little while, except that when Paul returned he found our cat, The Punk, sitting in front of the closet door, meowing and scratching at it. My own cat sold me out, giving away my exact location. This was too funny to let pass, and when the door opened, the game was over, and we both had a laugh about my traitorous feline.
Paul and I had a sweet (and delicious!) Thanksgiving at home together: his first Thanksgiving ever! The next day he had to leave to go back to England for the next several months (he’s still there), so it was a bittersweet time.
December:
I kept myself as busy as possible during the month of December, so I wouldn’t feel too lonely without Paul around. This involved seeing Maddy Marks and Christy Cutie as often as was possible, and doing lots of vanilla outings with Rafa and Zeki. After the first half of the month had passed, I flew to New York where I visited my family and had some spanking adventures, which I will spend less time dwelling on here since they are in far more recent memory. I spent a few days staying with Sarah Gregory, and we had lots of girly fun, plus I got to be spanked under the Christmas tree for her site’s Christmas special. I also got to meet up with, and get spanked by Kelly Payne for Tantrum Trainers, as described here:
That shoot was very laid back and a lot of fun. I get along really well with Kelly, and I certainly consider her one of my friends. We chatted a bit and caught up before we did our scene. It was very long and quite hard, plus it was all done over the knee. I’m wearing some shimmery stockings. This made me very happy. Kelly spanked me so hard for so long with her hand that she actually got a blood blister during the shoot. Fortunately, she had a paddle nearby to switch to nearby. That paddle stung crazily. The hand-spanking had been long and thorough, and it had sort of mesmerized me. My whole existence was hot and swollen as smack after smack fell on my bottom. The paddling cut through that, making each swat a strong peak of sensation. I was actually thinking about this while I was being spanked, at first, before it overwhelmed me: I was imagining making meringue, and watching as “stiff peaks form” as the recipe describes it. I felt like such peaks of sensation and pain were forming for me. Eventually, though, everything blurred together as I reached the point of being overwhelmed (in a good way, of course). I started to cry and to apologize and, near the end, started to have trouble talking. You know a video has actually pushed me when I start insisting that I can’t talk anymore near the end of it (or, in the case of this more severe video, quite early on in the spanking!).
Erica made a post a little while ago about not being able to articulate what happens in her mind during a spanking. I have the same experience. Once it reaches a certain point, it overwhelms my brain’s ability to break sensation down and put it into language. One minute I’m interpreting my spanking through a visual metaphor relating to pie-making, the next, there are no words. It’s just… there. Everything in my mind is the spanking and it exists in a place which, despite my efforts, I can’t reach to describe with language. This is something which commonly happens to me in my “real life” play (it’s pretty normal for Paul to try to talk to me while cuddling me after a scene and for me to insist that I “can’t brain”) but only happens on film every now and again, so it was kind of exciting.
I had actual Christmas with my family: a lowkey event without decorations or a tree or anything like that, since my mom was just moving into her new home post Hurricane Katrina AND was wheelchair bound following a broken hip. New Year’s eve was spent playing Katamari Damacy with my brother. In a certain way, it seemed fitting to end my year of transition without really fully diving into the holidays. The year had been that way. It was chock full of special moments that I’m going to treasure forever, but they weren’t on the days that the calendar tells us to make memories.
My 2014 has been going well so far. I’ve been living up to my resolutions to finish getting as set up in my new home as possible and to read more books. I haven’t, however, been keeping up with my blogging the way I wanted to. It’s been a long time since I posted as regularly as I’d like to. Before, this was because I was constantly traveling, then it was because I was focusing on getting settled in my new place. Recently? It’s been because I’ve been intentionally keeping myself as busy as possible to keep myself from being lonely while Paul is away. This means that I’m rarely ever at home and not doing anything, which has done wonders for my mood but horrors for my blogging! Fingers crossed I can keep posting on a regular basis! ♥
Last time that I posted, it was about my real-life punishment dynamics. This week’s KOTW (kink of the week) topic is Funishment, or play punishment. This a wonderfully related topic which allows me to continue on my previous train-of-thought. (Thanks, Jade!)
As I stated last post, I didn’t start out in the scene with any kind of dynamic that included play-punishment, or really, play spankings of any kind. Spankings were srs business only. When I started to play with my previous play partner, J, we never had any sort of disciplinary relationship, or any kind of power-exchange at all. It took a while for me to get used to this, at first. The spankings kind of just “happened.” I came over and we talked and cuddled, then he spanked me because he liked spanking girls and I wanted to be spanked. Afterwards, I would usually make him some kind of baked good, often without returning to my proper state of dress so he could watch me bob around his kitchen in an apron with my red, swollen bottom on display. It was a great tradition, and I loved those scenes, but it often left me feeling unfulfilled, like something was missing from the interaction that we had just had.
One day, I came over and J. suggested that we do a roleplay scene instead of our “usual.” I felt really hesitant about this. “I don’t even know how to do that,” I remember saying nervously. I had never done anything even vaguely like this before, and I was afraid that I’d somehow fail miserably at it and “ruin” the scene. J. coaxed me into it, suggesting that we play a scene in which my character had similar traits to the ones that I was expressing: nervousness and apprehension are by no means uncommon parts of a lot of spanking scenarios. So we decided to do a scene in which a girl who had never been spanked before was being punished afterschool by a teacher for consistently being late to class. Now, this scene seems so typical and almost unexciting, but at the time, my heart raced. I went into the other room, and we agreed that when I came back in, we’d begin playing.
I stood at the door with my hand on the knob, trying to channel my personal jitteriness into that which I felt belonged to my character. The scene was actually very similar to the things that I had fantasized about for a long time, so I knew how I expected it to go, but I couldn’t quite relax. I stood there waiting for a good five minutes before I came out. J. was sitting on the sofa wearing dress pants, a button-up shirt and a tie. I felt my stomach twitch when I saw his serious, annoyed looking facial expression.
“This meeting started five minutes ago, Alex,” he chided. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to be late to a discussion about your tardiness?”
I felt my face grow hot and I looked down at the ground, nervously twirling my hair and fiddling with a stray string on my dress. “Sorry,” was all I managed. I felt unsure about “how I was doing” as a roleplayer, but I felt very immersed in the scene, transfixed by J.’s tone.
J. continued to lecture me, being stern and giving plenty of details about the things that I had done. He was amazing at thinking things up on the fly, and I found myself responding easily and naturally. When it was time for the actual spanking, he pulled me over his lap forcefully and lifted my dress as I gasped and protested. I had never really protested against a spanking before. My attitude towards them had always been passivity, but here, it didn’t only feel acceptable to protest, it felt right. J. smacked the back of my leg, hard and corrected me for that sort of behavior and began to give me a flurry of hard spanks, scolding me about how I needed to get myself together and take things seriously instead of flitting around the school in a disorganized mess. It was actually during this spanking, as I was kicking and writhing and J. was pinning me down and punctuating his stern words with firm smacks that I realized what had been missing from my previous scenes with him: energy.
There’s a certain energy and drama and that comes from the dance of scolding and protesting that simply isn’t there in other kinds of spankings. Some atmospheres create a strong but different energy, like the reaffirmative spankings that I mentioned before, which focus on giving an intense reminder of each partner’s role in the dynamic, or spankings that are done for emotional release (“just because you need to be beaten”) or as a love act. I love these sorts of scenes, and I do enjoy having entirely arbitrary “just for the love of spanking” scenes now and again, too, but my mind draws itself back to punishment scenarios again and again and again.
J. and I had a successful first roleplay, and we began doing more and more scenes like that, sometimes following up on others which we had done earlier. Still, we played infrequently and mixed our previous “standard” play with the roleplay punishments, so I probably only did a total of ten roleplays before I moved.
Malignus and I never roleplayed together. In fact, we very rarely engaged in play-punishment of any kind, as I felt like I wasn’t being sufficiently submissive if I intentionally misbehaved, and he tended to respond to things like that with removal of attention instead of “feeding into it” by punishing the perpetrator. During this time I became very focused on the idea of being a good girl and being as submissive as possible, so when I went to my first spanking get together, I felt at a loss as the other girls ran around doing complex pranks. A friend who was similarly into being good and I made an attempt at hiding an implement at one point, but we ended up wussing out and returned it to it’s rightful place. I received no play punishment spankings at that party.
When I went to my first national spanking party later that year (TASSP), I was very nervous about how I was supposed to act. The first night, I found myself sitting with Pandora Blake on the floor of Joe and Ten’s suite, having a conversation about this. I expressed my concerns about not knowing how to “brat” and Pandora gave me suggestions based on her experience. We came to the conclusion that intentional misbehavior can’t be too annoying, can’t be actually malicious or damaging to people or things and should be clever and/or funny. With this in mind, we got a magic marker from somewhere and crawled over to where IMLX was seated and began drawing cats on the bottom of his bare foot. IMLX and I knew each other from the internet and I knew that he was good natured, so he seemed like a good candidate for our naughtiness. It took him a surprisingly long time to realize that cats were being drawn on his foot. I don’t know what that says about him as a person. 😛 When he did figure it out, he playfully spanked both of us, scolding us (including in Russian!) for being naughty, cat-on-foot-drawing girls. It was seriously playfully, and I was seriously pleased.
Overtime, I sort of grew into myself in this regard, and began to figure out ways to initiate playfully punitive scenes. Sometimes I planned roleplay scenarios with people that I liked. Other times, I just whined a little. This seemed to work wonders. 😛
My bottom after one such play punishment!
My play punishment life took a turn for the “more frequent” when I became friends with Bad Alex. Why? Because Bad Alex is fucking Bad, and she’s amazingly good at it. Her mind is a machine that takes a simple idea and turns it into the most trouble possible. Besides being good at raising hell and getting herself spanked, she’s also magically able to get me into play-trouble to degrees that I’ve never known were possible. For example, at BBW she set things up so I got 16 strokes of the cane because she punched me in the knee. That’s talent right there. I’m still kinda reeling from that almost a year later.
When in the “principal’s office” and her partner in crime, cutieotk is about to get paddled, Bad Alex thinks it’s a good time to play Rude Hand Gesture Bingo.
Bad Alex and I like to roleplay together. While some of the roleplays that I do are dark and serious, the ones that include both the Alexes are always kind of off the wall. For example, at July’s Crimson Moon party, we played a scene with our friend Jon83 in which we were sisters who had been caught cutting school to go to the mall by our father. I really like roleplaying with Alex when we’re not even caught yet: we just banter back and forth as misbehaving girls and giggle an awful lot. When we came back to our hotel room (in the pretend, our home) after having snuck out of school, we were greeted by Jon, who was none to pleased with us. We then started to try to lie our way out of things. My lies were things like “We just ran home to get our books!” but Alex’s were things like “It’s National Alex Day! No one with our name is allowed at school! We have the day off!” This threw me into a fit of hysterics, and it reminded me of a detail that had never been discussed: we were supposed to be sisters of the same age with the same name. We made a series of jokes back and forth to each other as we tried to figure out why this was until Jon sent Bad Alex to the corner to separate us, pointing to her and saying “That one! Go to the corner!”
This was the only time in my life that I laughed while getting a hard paddling.
We’ve done other, really fun scenes since then, and we currently have a ridiculously fun roleplay in the planning stages. It involves us pretending to get kicked out of someplace and needing to be picked up by our angry authority figures, who will then scold us all the way home before punishing us quite severely. In a Fetlife conversation on the subject, Bad Alex stated that she had been DOING RESEARCH into ways that we could get into trouble there.
Bad Alex is a winner
By the time that we had our cabin visit my desire to play in this way exploded. Still keeping in mind the principles which Pandora and I had identified, I spent the whole time messing around. Sometimes when I wanted to be spanked (which was most of the time) I would just directly (although very coyly) ask for it. Usually, though, I expressed this want by doing slightly naughty things: climbing on the furniture when there was a sign that said I couldn’t, replacing the sign with another one which said I could, naming a chair after Mila and kicking it, opening a desk drawer while I was sitting on his lap at the desk, finding a piece of chalk and using it to draw on the back of his black shirt et cetera. Usually, these things were met with playful, often affectionate spankings that had the “you’re a naughty girl” type of attitude but were ultimately just-for-fun. They were hard enough, mind you, but I only ever felt enough like I was in trouble for it to be exciting, not to tap into that set of emotions discussed before.
Following one such spanking at the cabin!
Occasionally, these scenes were more physically severe. One day, after the chalk had been taken away, I opened the same drawer during the same sort of cuddle to find a few paperclips, which I clipped to Paul’s shirt collar. Seeming unamused (in a way that I could tell was not genuine displeasure) he called it “abuse of stationary”. I called this “bogus.” He produced a hairbrush. First, though, he pulled me over his lap on the sofa and spanked my bottom quite hard with his hand, then he moved on to smack the backs of my thighs. It was hard and thorough, and he was stern and strict with me. I was crying quite earnestly by the time that he had finished with my thighs, but he still continued to get the hairbrush and apply it quite effectively as well. I was a mess of tears when it was done, and in a certain way, I felt legitimately contrite, even though I hadn’t done anything. It was like I had the relief and security of having been punished without any of the most unenjoyable parts of it, as I knew Paul wasn’t actually disappointed in me for wasting paperclips. The spanking was followed with the same snuggles that would come after a real punishment spanking, and I was left feeling blissful and loved.
Now that we’re living together, play punishment is a rather big part of the daily routine that Paul and I have developed. Sometimes it’s a quick and lighthearted spanking for something like walking outside barefoot and getting leaves all over my feet (which was delivered in the backyard, by the way. Oh the embarrassment!) and other times it’s more emotionally intense and physically severe, like the paperclip scene. Still other times, we engage in roleplaying just-for-fun, but with a punishment scenario (such as a scene where when Paul went away to find something to spank me with, I hid in the other room’s closet and might have at least gotten away with it for a few minutes if my cat hadn’t sat himself down in front of the door and meowed loudly until Paul came and dragged me out).
Ultimately, play punishment is now up there with “reaffirmative” for my favorite day-to-day style of spanking. Besides just being fun, it also opens up the door to a lot of possibilities. For example, I feel horrible about myself if I don’t take a real punishment spanking well. If I protest, or move out of position, or make too big of a fuss I just feel terrible inside afterwards, like I didn’t properly atone for the original misdeed and I’m still being a disappointment (note: I’m not made to feel this way. It’s just residual insecurity). During a play punishment, though, I can happily enjoy thrashing around, resisting, protesting, shouting “No! No! No! No!” and otherwise doing everything in my power not to take my spanking well. It’s delightful to be overpowered, to have my protests fall on deaf ears and to be MADE to take the rest of it. It’s also wonderfully exciting to play with non-consensual themes during roleplay which I obviously wouldn’t be exploring in any other way. There’s something invigorating and yes, sexy (gasp!) about that. ♥
On Thursday, I woke up as late as I could get away with, since I had fallen asleep around six thirty or something in the morning. I wasn’t thrilled to be going into a party on that little sleep, but it was sort of inevitable and there was nothing I could do about it.
The day started out with Paul and I filming with Sarah Gregory for Northern Spanking— you can read his notes on the shoot here. Paul started working out ideas for scenarios weeks ago, and it was kind of fascinating to see his process. Because we were filming in the hotel, Paul created a set of scenarios which made sense for us to be in such a setting instead of trying to pretend that we were somewhere else and this lead to some rather creative thinking on his part. I was a little nervous about filming because it was my first time ever being on camera for some of the scenes and it was my first time actually filming with Sarah! We’ve known each other for a while, and we roomed together and I shot a scene for her site while we were at TASSP, so we were comfortable around each other, but we had never actually done any films together until this day.
From my shoot for Sarah’s site back in June
The second scene involved me getting spanked by Sarah and is the first film that the two of us have done together. We’d played during group roleplay events before, but never on camera. Sarah is a great top and is easy to roleplay with, and the spanking that she gave me was delightful. Additionally, this was the first time in my entire life that I wore heels with jeans, and I think I like the look! I’d never done it before because I avoided heels except for the most specialist of occasions since I used to have height related self esteem issues, but those don’t bother me anymore so I’ve been enjoying experiments like this. 😀 In the film, I play a sneaky, snarky writer who gets caught in a hotel I’ve written poor reviews of many times by an irate manager, played by Sarah. I consider scenes where I’m unabashedly not repentant for me behavior a challenging area for me, but I think I’m getting better at it. When I need clever snark, I ask myself what Erica Scott would say. When I need to be bratty and awful, I borrow a page from The Bad Alex’s daily life. I think that the film ended up being great: funny and full of delightful girl/girl spanking action. ^_^
Scene number the third was between Sarah and Paul again, with Sarah playing a second-rate erotic author and Paul playing her irate publisher. This scene ended up being particularly funny, and I had to keep my composure behind the camera and not giggle at their antics (which I did manage to do, thankfully!) Sarah looks lovely in jeans, I have to say. 😛
The final scene was between Paul and I, and it was actually the first time that we’d played on camera since the end of March, so that was pretty exciting. This was our original type of interaction, and it was nice to return to it, now bringing the massive chemistry that comes when two people know each other as intimately as we now do. It was also the first time that we did a film in which we played a couple since we actually became one, so that was a bit sweet. Paul was vague about the description of this film’s content in his post so I suppose that I had better be, too, but it’s a cute story with a delightful caning in it which was hard enough that when it was finished, Sarah marveled at my composure.
I helped pick out some of the images that Paul put up on the forum when he wrote about this shoot, and this was one of the ones that I chose. I like it for the normal reasons: I look scared and vulnerable, Paul looks determined and threatening et cetera, but also because of his shadow on the curtain. I like imagining that we’re on a ground floor and a passerby might see this silhouette from outside and perhaps stop to watch the shadow-puppet version of my thrashing. How deliciously voyeuristic!
When we had finished shooting, I had to run off pretty much right away because I had an appointment in Detention! Joe (Drlectr) and Mama Blue were running a series of short “Principal’s office” detention scenarios and I was scheduled for shortly after the filming finished. Joe and I have played hundreds of times, and he’s one of the people with whom I’ve played the most intimately and emotionally intensely, but we’ve never really done any roleplay scenarios. I know that he’s fond of school style paddling scenes, and I love any kind of roleplay which is highly formalized, so I figured the scene was going to be good. I take great delight in the embarrassment of having someone else watching me be punished, like Vice Principal Blue!
I was already in my uniform so I ran up to Joe and Ten’s room to wait outside the doorway. They were talking to someone in the room, so I had to wait outside.
Waiting in this hallway, knowing that in a minute, I was about to be paddled and that it would be quite severe was something directly from my fantasy life. Everyone on the floor was at the Crimson Moon party, which meant that everyone who passed and saw me stood outside Joe’s room in my uniform knew that I was waiting for my detention. This also meant that they weren’t judging me, but that didn’t remove the squirmy feeling in my tummy every time someone walked by. Finally, Joe, now Principal Lectr, opened the door and called me in.
A lot of my roleplay characters are helpless and innocent, but that was certainly not the case today. The scene that Joe and I had written involved me being in trouble for attempting to seduce my male teachers, and I was full of confidence and eroticism, flirting with Principal Lectr even as he lectured me on my wicked ways. “You seem to think this is alright!” Vice Principal Blue said in dismay. “You’re going to have to start seeing the school counselor once a week!”
“Will it be a male counselor?” I asked with a flirtatious grin. The authority figures had had enough of me, so I was bent over the desk for eight paddle swats, which were delivered firmly and on the bare. The paddling wasn’t much of a sanction for me, though, and I kept up my act, hoping for a little extra attention. I got just that, in the form of a hard, OTK spanking after the paddling. When the scene was over, Mama Blue took off and Joe and I got to enjoy some time together. Joe is wonderful. I’m so lucky to have him in my life.
After this, Joe walked me back to my room and we told Paul about our roleplay. Then Paul and I took a little time to regroup before heading down for dinner. We hadn’t had much lunch, so we mostly used this as a time to socialize and see who was at the party already before heading out to get a bite and some drinks nearby. During dinner, Naughty Freckles asked me if I’d be willing to be a rope-bunny for the “Fit to be Tied and Spanked” demo later that night, which I gladly accepted. Bondage can be a lot of fun, and I do get a little thrill out of performing in front of a group. Between dinner and the demo, Paul and I ran to the store (without me ever bothering to change out of my school uniform!) and then got back in time to be able to socialize a bit before I needed to start. Paul finally got to meet LLB, who is very dear to my heart, and a handful of my other friends.
Then it was time for the demo! Kinkmedic, from 12:11 Kink taught some basic ties and showed how they can be used for spanking. This included tying me up, including in a bent over position where he then balanced a cup of Mountain Dew on my back while I tried very hard to stay still. Afterwards, they passed out rope and people practiced the ties and I allowed people to practice on me, too. It was a lot of fun, and the ties were effective, easy and comfortable. “A+ would be tied up by again!”rating!
After the demo, we snuck out and ate dinner, then ran into about 15 of my favorite people who were entering the restaurant as we were leaving. We headed upstairs, where I probably got changed again and we went to Joe and Ten’s suite. There were only a few people hanging out in there, since most everyone else had gone to dinner, but I had a good time talking to everyone, including the person behind Spanking Resource (I don’t know if he uses a particular name online or not!) and a few others.
At one point I did something out of line and needed to be spanked (gasp!) so Paul selected one of Big Bubba’s Bible Belts and applied it to me. Big Bubba is a friend of mine who does leatherworking, and his belts with “Bible” stamped on them are a perennial favorite. It started out as just a pun, but the belts are fairly lightweight, delightfully pliable and capable of being used across intensities. This instance of the implement belongs to Joe, and it’s obvious that he’s spanked about 108 girls with it because it was delightfully well broken in and clearly an implement “of joy!” It was stingy in a light and delicious way… dare I say it was even “sensual.” I didn’t want the spanking to stop, ever! I made Paul promise that we’d buy one for ourselves at the vendor’s fair.
The next thing that I wrote in my notes is “Bad Alex is Bad.” I have no idea what particular incident this refers to, because that’s kind of like writing notes on a day out hiking and saying “The sky is blue.” A while before the party, Bad Alex and I were arguing back and forth and I called her some kind of awful insult, as we tend to do to each other. Instead of just responding with one of her signature, creative insults (“your breath smells like Bigfoot’s dick”) Bad Alex decided to write a long and carefully worded email to Paul, explaining how I had wronged her and how she wanted to keep my “good girl status intact” by telling on me “for my own good.” I’m sure she said “I’m just a little girl” somewhere in there, too. Of course I ended up getting caned, because there’s no fairness anywhere in the Universe when Bad Alex is involved (remember, I once got 14 strokes of the cane because she punched me in the knee!)
At CCM, she continued this masquerade of being a good girl who is unfairly accused by me by being sweet and polite whenever Paul was around and then turning around and insulting or slapping me when he wasn’t looking. He always seemed to be looking when I retaliated, though, and I was soon jumping up and down at the unfairness of it all. I had high hopes of seeing Alex properly punished sometime this weekend, though, and my best bet was at Spanking Court on Saturday night. Bad Alex claimed she had a foolproof defense, but I wasn’t so sure. As soon as the box was out in the main room, I filed a class-action case against her as “The Good Alex representing the people of CCM vs. Bad Alex for harassment.”
This seems like a good stopping point for this post. I suspect that CCM will be broken up into about 5 or 6 posts total, since I took notes and everything. Please stay tuned! ♥
I only have three more things that I really feel are important to share about BBW. The rest of the party was wonderful, but it was ages ago, and holy crap, really Alex? You need to get caught up. So, here are my final three stories. I’m totally writing this from TASSP right now. My inability to keep up to date with this stuff is OUT OF CONTROL. Additionally, I’m sorry that recently my blog has simply been a series of stories about adventures most of the time, in case anyone finds that boring. Soon, my life will be settling for a while and I’ll get caught up and back to my regular programing. I’ve had really ridiculously low traffic this month, so I’m sorry for whatever isn’t awesome about what I’ve been up to recently. I’m still here, and I’ll do my best to get back to updating regularly and excitingly as soon as I can!
There were a lot of British people at BBW, including a handful of my favorite people. I think it was Richard Windsor‘s idea to have a “Meet the Brits” party. I liked this party quite a bit because various people had brought biscuits and sweeties and other things that I was missing after returning to the US, and I munched on this stuff while socializing with whoever was around. At one point, Bad Alex and I ended up chatting to Mr. Allen again. I mentioned earlier that Bad Alex had sort of punched me on the knee earlier, and it had marked up. As the three of us hung out, I noticed this bruise again. “Mr. Allen,” I kind of whined, “Alex hit me. It left a mark, look!” He looked, and asked Alex if she had, indeed, hit me. She openly and unabashedly admitted to it, and probably included her trademark phrase: “sucks to suck!” As the victim, I was asked what punishment seemed appropriate and I suggested that she should be caned.
“Fine,” Alex said. “But tattletales get double.”
“Agreed,” said Mr. Allen.
Then my head exploded. Where was this rule every time that I did the tiniest little thing wrong and Mila felt it was her sisterly duty to tell everyone she could think of about it? It seemed to me that when someone tattled on me and I complained about it, the response was always “She’s just looking out for your best interest” or “She needs to protect herself.” The unfairness of the universe was overpowering. I probably stamped my foot, but I don’t remember.
Alex got her caning, which was enjoyable to watch. There was some sliver of fairness left in the world, because each of the six strokes obviously hurt, and everything is right when Bad Alex is experiencing something painful as consequence for her badness. Then it was my turn. “This isn’t fair!” I reminded everyone. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” Mr. Allen looked at me with an expression that suggested that I was close to earning even more strokes if I kept up my complaining, though, so I bent over the chair. They weren’t hard, full bodied strokes, but they weren’t overly playful, either. And, as the other stories in the previous posts will remind you, I’d played a lot that weekend. I was sore as could be, and each stroke made me whimper and yelp. Near the end of my thrashing probably at the tenth stroke or so, Lucy and Stephen came into the room and sat down at the end of the bed next to us. Lucy inquired about why I was being caned and Mr. Allen and Alex explained it to her.
“Yes, that seems quite fair,” Lucy said.
“WHAT?! Why does everyone think this is fair?!” I protested, making a scrunchy face at Lucy. (My blog doesn’t support me making the emoticon scrunchy face but you’ll just have to imagine it. A lot).
“Mr. Allen!” Lucy immediately called out, “Alex just made a horrid face at me!”
“Did you?” Mr. Allen asked and I nodded pitifully, unable to tell a lie. “You’ll be getting extra strokes,” he told me. In my mind, the amount of extra strokes was four, but it’s very possible it was actually two. My memory can be a bit faulty when it comes to these things, especially as time passes.
It was impossibly hard not to scrunch my face up at this announcement, but somehow I managed, knowing quite well that it wouldn’t be a wise choice. The extra strokes (however many they were) were harder, and I yelped more loudly than I had previously, shuffling my feet and grinding my toe against the floor. This was the first time I’d ever been punished for making a scrunchy face. It was not the last.
The reason why I find this story particularly noteworthy is because I wanted to get Bad Alex caned. In the process, I ended up taking probably sixteen strokes. I got ten more strokes than she did. Somehow, this still felt “worth it” to me. Why? Because Bad Alex is Bad. Besides, I like unfairness. I like it when someone I know well and trust lies to me about what will and won’t happen in a scene (YS does this quite regularly. He tells me he’s only giving me two strokes and then gives me six, or something like that). The feeling of this scene spiraling out of what I expected it to be was invigorating. I felt like I was being swept along, caught up in the current of some river of caning. There was something much more interesting about not being able to be certain when things would end.
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| The good and the bad! |
The second incident took place on the Sunday before we all left BBW. ellee and I had negotiated a group roleplay scene with Richard Windsor before the party. Richard had given us pretty much free reign on the scenario, within the agreed upon context that it was a school roleplay that was meant to end with us getting caned. ellee and I brainstormed for a long time, tossing back and forth various ideas over email and IM. Eventually, one of my ideas won out: we would be in trouble for having a secret pet in our dorm. ellee filled in a lot of the details: we’d found a litter of kittens behind the supply shed and had taken them in because they were oh-so-cute instead of telling someone in authority about them. As the kittens grew, they caused all sorts of problems: they tore up the carpet and wallpaper, peed all over things, gave a girl an asthma attack and, probably worst of all, brought fleas into the building. Everyone in the dorm had them, and the dorm director was at a loss for what was causing the “bedbug problem.” Eventually, the asthma attack had gotten us brought to attention and our dorm director wrote a letter to the headmaster, Mr. Windsor. ellee and I carefully crafted this letter, including making a fake email address for the “dorm director” to send it to Rich.
Unfortunately, it was a bit hard for Rich to punish us for having kittens, being an animal lover himself, so it may not have been the ideal scenario. It was totally us, though: earnest, mostly good, accidentally in a lot of trouble, rather sad about it.
On Sunday, when it was time for our scene, ellee and I got dressed up in school uniforms that didn’t match at all. (We now have matching school skirts. This changes everything. Next party that we’re at together, we take over the world). Still, we both felt like school girls, and that’s what counts. We came into Rich’s room and he was in character, lecturing us from the door about what we’d done wrong and how much trouble we were in. We stared at the ground repentantly, trying to give answers that weren’t too snarky. Eventually, it was decided that we knew better, and that we’d caused a lot of damage, so we were both to be spanked and then we’d each get twelve strokes of the cane. Rich sent me to stand in the corner while he spanked ellee, first– he later told me that he did it this way because he knew that this would build a lot of anticipation and have a strong affect on me, and he was entirely right. I try to take cornertime seriously, even in a roleplay, because it’s such an important part of my kink. This time, though, the lighthearted nature of our pretending and the fact that elleebutt was getting spanked right behind me got the best of me, and I kept turning around to peek. Rich caught me and told me that if I looked back again, I’d get extra strokes. I couldn’t help myself. I looked back again. I guess I’m just never satisfied with twelve strokes of the cane. I have to keep earning extra.
Once he finished spanking ellee, he switched and put me over his lap. I tried to oogle ellee while she stood in the corner near me, but I was far too distracted by the spanking at hand.
The spanking was brisk, and I was already sore, so I wiggled and squirmed around. When it was done, Rich got me up and got ellee out of the corner and directed us to bend over opposite sides of a small table, where we’d be receiving our canings.
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| In position! (ellee is the cutest girl ever to live) |
He then gave ellee the first stroke, which made her yelp. After that, he walked around the table to my side, to deliver my first one. This process was long and very, very anticipatory. Anticipation can be a hugely positive factor in a scene for me, and a lot of the play that Richard and I have engaged in together has emphasized this. The whole set up served to get into my head quite a bit, which seems to be another big factor in the scenes that Richard and I have done. After I got each stroke, I saw ellee’s face as she got hers. We grabbed each other’s hands in solidarity and comfort, and I felt her squeeze me as things hurt.
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| EVEN HER HANDS ARE CUTE! |
Eventually, we worked through all the strokes, except for the additional two that I’d be getting. At this point, I was greatly regretting my antics earlier. The caning had been quite hard, and I’d gotten a few on my thighs, making me cry out and whimper lots and lots. I wasn’t crying, but I was quite contrite and well thrashed feeling. The last two really “counted.” This is the way of the world when you earn extra strokes, I suppose. I considered going back to being an excessively good girl all the time, in order to avoid any more of these in the future. 😛
The scene ended with the two of us in the corner, then we had that semi-awkward moment where we broke character, then we giggled and hugged.
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| So much sweetness. |
The final noteworthy adventure at BBW took place IMMEDIATELY AFTER THIS, and much running around was involved to get from this adventure the next. The next was the “Adult Speaking” boat cruise, which was really, really fun. We had to change quickly and then basically teleport to the place where the bus was taking us to the dock, except that we can’t actually do that, so we had to run really quickly through a big hotel instead. But it was worth it! It was lots of fun to hang out on the boat, once we all eventually got there.
I like boats. I like boating. I grew up in Southern New Jersey on the coast, extremely close to where we were boating at the time, and I felt very, very at home. It was a wonderful feeling to be able to be being myself, totally and entirely while I was in my home setting. I spent time with each of the people who had come on the boat that was special to me. I had a couple of drinks. I had Pandora take photos of me climbing stairs in my sailor dress:
Then, of course, there was the customary “Drawbridge spanking” where everyone lines up and gets spanked in front of a drawbridge, while everyone in their cars can see us. I was slightly embarrassed by this idea, but I went for it anyway. Joe (drlectr) spanked me. I love Joe.
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| This is one of my all time favorite photos. |
That’s really all I have to say about the boat trip. I do want to share one more photo, because I feel that it’s a gem beyond compare. Here’s me and my darling twinsie, ellee, on the boat:
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| ellee looks so thoroughly spanked. I don’t look to pale myself! |
This concludes my posting about BBW. Onward to further adventures! Thanks for your patience! I love you all! ♥
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.”
dlifgdklfgjdjklghodirugy9SU*Efyhtisughxfjkhvdfiougyiny eor8ntu er89yfiseufhisuhvdxjkvhgyei7yeiuwryhoaeiwrhefkuhsiuhidfughISUEhtwioty iweuhreoshvnsdohvdsugheiosugiuefgyhesioufysdhvjkdhvhifxv!!!!!!!111!!1!11one
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.
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| Fear. |
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.
Pain.
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. ♥
I am going to get through this complete narrative if it’s the last damn thing I do. I don’t know why it’s so important to me that I do, especially because adventures keep happening and piling up and it would make more sense for me to cut my losses and just jump to the more recent. But I’m going to. Really.
I know there has been some lag in when this blog has been updated, but I guarantee you that this time, I’m on a good schedule for quite some time now. Thanks for sticking by me as I’ve been busy darting around the world on spanking adventures. Your readership means so much to me.
The first person to spank me on Friday morning at BBW was YS. After getting ready for the day, I crawled up on his bed and we chatted about things that were going on in my life at the time. When that was finished, he put one leg out and put me over it (a very practical form of on the bed OTK) and then spanked me. He spanked me with a bunch of things, but I didn’t really get a good look at them. I just got a good feel of them. Many of them were wooden, and they hurt. It was still early in the day, and I think I may have been a bit whiny about things at first, but I quickly broke down and let myself fall into things. Damn, it hurt. YS almost always spanks me quite hard, but I felt very safe and comfortable in the position that he put me in. I was somewhat physically resistant, though, by the standards of this relationship. I clutched at the blankets and wiggled a bit and despite being reminded to, I was unable to keep my body relaxed. I worked at it as the spanking went on, and I think I made some progress, but it wasn’t easy. When YS was finished, I felt very physically worn out at first, and cuddled on the bed next to him for a while. After that, I was back to my perky self, and we went off to lunch.
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| I think that Beth took this photo. If so, thank you, Beth! |
I spent a lot of the rest of the day hanging out with friends and having fun. At one point, I did something annoying to TheBadAlex and she responded by whacking me in the knee. This left a bruise that will become significant later on in the story. [God, Bad Alex, stop being such a bitch!] Later, we went to the meet and greet and I hung out with a nice variety of people, as basically everyone was there. The Famous Kat, who I met for the first time after years of internet friendship, showed me a place where I could stand on the balcony and it would make my dress fly up. I like that. I like that an awful lot. The lightweight nature of dress material is an important factor in my selection of clothing on a windy day. 🙂
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| Win! |
After the event, SpankingJoe (different than Drlectr) and Bad Alex and I got together to talk in Joe’s room. This was a very complex proceeding that involved Joe setting up chairs in front of a desk and getting out a big, school type paddle. Because he knew that having the two of us together would probably result in mischief. Alex did, indeed, say something off color or complain about something, I don’t remember what, and she ended up being bent over the desk for ten swats. I probably gloated a bit about the fact that she was getting spanked, and I think she certainly would have found a way to throw me under the bus (such a bitch! Damn you, Bad Alex!) but it was time for me to go.
Earlier in the day, I had a very intense conversation with Lucy, which was really wonderful for me. It’s part of my personal life, the stuff that doesn’t go on here, but we talked about a lot of things and she looked after me in with a level of dedication and caring that was more than most people ever have in my life. That’s not meant to put anyone else down, just to say that she went above and beyond the call, and that I adore her for it. Part of this involved her setting things up for me to play with her partner, Stephen Lewis at a set time and location, and that time was nearing.
Stephen and I had never played together off camera before. I knew that I liked scening with him for work purposes very, very much. He’s good with characters. He’s willing to be a bit weird when the scene calls for it, and he’s very willing (perhaps even eager) to go to the darker places that I have recently found that I delight in. We weren’t going to roleplay this time, though. We were just going to be ourselves, and I was greatly looking forward to that. I knew that he plays hard. I’d seen photos of him having played with other girls where they were quite marked. It may have only been Friday, but at that time for my own reasons, I wanted to play hard. I wanted someone to beat me, and soundly. I felt very stable and secure because I knew that he would. I knew that I didn’t need to ask him to, or to sell him on the idea. I felt confident that he understood me enough to do what needed doing. As I walked to the room he and Lucy were sharing, my heart pounded against the inside of my chest with heavy anticipation. My tummy felt funny. It was wonderful.
I knocked on the door and he opened it. We talked a bit, and then he put a straight backed chair in the middle of the room and took off his jacket, having me hang it up. Then he put me over his lap and he began to spank me. I had let him know that I wanted my thighs to be spanked as well, and he was more than willing to do so. Every smack hurt in a way that radiated through my body. Often, when I really feel the need to be spanked hard, I find myself easily overwhelmed when I get what I need, lost at sea, struggling and crying and that letting go process leaves me feeling strong again. That wasn’t what happened this time. Stephen spoke to me very positively, and the combination of his words and the pain that grew and grew in my bottom and thighs (especially when he switched from his hand to a lightweight little hairbrush type paddle, and then to a much heavier and thicker one) made me feel edified. I didn’t feel like weakness left me and afterwards, that hollow space left was inflated with strength. I felt all the things in me, the feelings and the vulnerability harden into an unbreakable, positive core. I felt safe. I felt like myself. I felt like everything that had been dark had been illuminated. I didn’t cry. I had assumed that I would, but instead, I felt joyful. I could feel the red growing, could feel that there were probably purple speckles forming, especially on my sit spot and thighs. Each smack felt hot, and burning tingles radiated out from the center of the impact. Finally, eventually, it ended.
“This is about what you need,” Stephen said, “but it’s also about what I want. I want to cane you now, so I am going to.” I was, in that moment, entirely submissive, which is a rare thing for me when I’m playing with someone with whom I don’t have a dynamic. I knew that it was a temporary and fleeting thing, and that was fine, almost positive feeling. Having it be an encapsulated moment instead of a part of a timeline (not to say that we’ll never play again, as I’m certain that we will have other chances to, but there was nothing being built or worked at, it was just a moment) made it all that more refreshing, and I needed that.
I climbed over the end of the bed to be caned. I think I took a total of 33 strokes, many of them on my thighs, although by no means all of them. He used several different canes, increasing in intensity as they went on, but I don’t remember very much about them. I just remember the process: calm, stillness and then a white, hot pain, and then the secondary pain that follows– an aching, chewing pain. Then calmness, and another interruption. When it was finished, Stephen sat at the head of the bed and I cuddled against him for a while, having quiet and gentle conversation about how well I took my thrashing. I felt proud of myself. Instead of getting hung up on something I hadn’t done the way I’d like to, I just felt pleased with my endurance, my reaction and the whole experience And I felt sore. I felt incredibly, incredibly sore. I almost didn’t want to sit. My thighs felt swollen. I was bruised and welted. I was happy. Stephen is a really good friend, and a wonderful Top.
During the post-scene cuddling, we talked about various things, including why getting hit on my thighs was so important to me. I think everyone who reads this has heard it a million times: I like getting hit on my thighs because I hate it. It challenges me. It pushes me. It’s the first thing that ever really made me acknowledge my submission, and it continues to be effective at getting inside my head. “There are other things that I think could be like that for me, but that I’m too scared to even try,” I told Stephen. He asked me what those things were. “Like hand tawsing. I’ve been hit on the hand with other things before, less serious things, and it’s just far, far too painful. I can’t endure it.” I told him the story about how I somehow ended up on the other side of the room insisting that I was literally going to die the first time that Malignus had hit me on the hand, and he had a chuckle at that.
“If you ever want to try it, you should either ask Lucy to do it or Mr. Allen, since they’re the best at hand tawsing,” Stephen told me.
“I know I’ll eventually want to try it. I have a horrible morbid curiosity, but I’m just not there yet. Maybe in six months or so I will be. Right now, it’s just far too scary.” This was acceptable, and the conversation moved on to other things. Eventually, it was time for me to go and get changed, as the Vendor’s Fair was that night.
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| I took this photo when I got undressed to change in my room later. Sore girl! |
This story will continue in the next post. Stay tuned! ♥
I find it tremendously difficult to write about spanking parties after the fact.
So. Much. Happens. It’s hard for me to tell what things are interesting and worth writing about and what things are needless details. It’s also unfortunate that I never really get around to writing about them as soon as they happen, as I tend to have quite the backlog. So, I’ll do the best that I can. If I don’t mention a fond memory that I shared with you there, please don’t be hurt. It probably means a lot to me, too.
The first thing that I clearly remember about Thursday of BBW was Richard Windsor‘s pool party. I was full of bounce and excitement that afternoon, and I spent lots of time with Pandora again, making up for all the time that we had been apart. We splashed around in the pool a bunch, and later moved into the world’s biggest hot tub*. Here, I ran into my friends Korey and James Johnson (of Stormy Night Publications) and we got to catch up. I hadn’t seen them since July, and we had lots to talk about, including reminiscing about a most ridiculous night at CCM and, once again, discussing How To Have Two Concubines For Five Dollars A Day®. Korey and I engaged in lots of girl talk, which continued out of the pool and into the changing room. Eventually, Pandora had someplace to be so she took off, and I got dressed and headed out of the pool.
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| I actually wore jeans at a spanking party. No one died. Amazing! |
I wandered off somewhere and ran into my friend BradD. Brad and I had known each other for a long time over the internet, and he’s always been really kind and supportive towards me. We’d hung out briefly at other parties, and he was meant to go to my cabin party but unfortunately fell ill and couldn’t make it. As things went, we had never played together. Now seemed like as good a time as ever, so we headed up to his room. We chatted a bit more before things moved rather seamlessly to me being over his lap. I hadn’t played yet at this party, and Brad was very kind about warming me up gently, first spanking me over my jeans. I don’t get spanked over jeans often, since I much prefer to run around in skirts at parties, but I do very much like the feeling of it. There’s basically no stinginess and just the feeling of impact, which is very similar to the way that my mind interprets spankings once I’ve falled into a subspace type mental state. Because of this association, the “over the jeans” spanking made me very passive. Soon, though, Brad had me get up and he took my jeans down before returning me to position, where he commented that he liked my underwear. That’s always points in my book right there. He then spanked me over it, and I was quite surprised by the difference. His hands are big and firm, and he was very effective at spanking with them. I squirmed a bit, but my attitude was mostly giggly, as we were both in very high spirits and he was simply spanking me because we both enjoyed it, and we both enjoyed each other. I love a huge variety of types of spankings, but there’s something very pure about that type. We do the thing because we love the thing.
When the spanking was completed, I felt simultaneously properly warmed up to play for the rest of the party and delightfully close to Brad. It really was ideal. Unfortunately I didn’t get to see much more of him for the rest of the party, so I was glad that we got that time, and it started things on the right foot for me.
Shortly after I left Brad’s room, I got a text from Lucy letting me know that she and Stephen had arrived and were in their room. Lucy and I had been texting while we were both in New York, but our schedules hadn’t lined up (largely because of my running around) so I hadn’t seen her since I left her and Paul’s house in England nearly a month ago. I headed up to their room and had hugs, plus the showing off of fancy fabric that Lucy had purchased in the garment district and the return of all the stuff I had left in England because it didn’t fit in my suitcase, despite Lucy’s nigh godlike packing ability. It was very nice to catch up with her and Stephen, as I’d missed being around them since I left England. From there, I think I went to see The Bad Alex, Latte and Josh, but I’m not clear on this order of events in the least anymore. I know that I did get to see them, and that I told Latte that I was pleased to meet her, as I do every time I see her, since the second time that we hung out I was half drunk and another half asleep and temporarily had no memory of our first meeting. It was good to see her and Alex again, though, and immediately I got up to mischief with them. It was also lovely to meet Josh, as we’d corresponded online for quite some time, and he was really, truly nice in person. I also got to meet a girl named Feisty, who clearly lived up to her name. 🙂
I’m usually really quite good. Really, I am. At one point, though, when Josh started spanking someone, I decided that some of the implements in the room were just to mean for the public eye, so I hid a couple of them.
No one noticed that I did it. That’s the benefit of usually being so good: people don’t watch you as closely.
I then texted Alex from across the room to let her know that I’d been up to something already, and she swore up, down and backwards not to tell if I told her what I’d done. Because I trusted her, I did. Instantly, she threw me under the bus. INSTANTLY. She didn’t even give me time to get my fingers off my phone’s keyboard. What a “great friend.”
“Hey Josh! Alex hid your cane.” Alex said. I was shocked and appalled, and sheepishly returned it. Of course, I got whacked with it. That’s how this works. That doesn’t mean I didn’t protest, and most of my angst was about what a horrible, lying tattletale Alex is (like a lot of my friends, it seems).
[Dear Bad Alex: fuck you. Love, Good Alex.][There is a message to Bad Alex in invisible ink there. Don’t read it if you think that I should be nice to my friends on the internet.]
I think it was after this that we went down to the Burger Bar area for registration and hanging out, where I got to see a bunch more people that I was quite excited about. I spent that entire portion of the evening flittering around from group to group, trying to see everyone and catch up. Finally, YS texted me that he and ellee had arrived, and I literally ran to the room number he had sent. There were hugs and very quick cuddles, as it was approaching an event that they needed to be at. It was lovely to see them. They’re some of my favorite people.
The rest of the night was kind of a blur. There was a mass spanking of several of my friends for some sort of prank that I wasn’t entirely aware of, but which was very entertaining to watch. It was especially visually appealing to watch the portion that involved YS spanking Beth, as YS is a joy to watch while he’s hitting woman. He moves his body in a way that looks strong and powerful, and he has a smug look of satisfaction on the entire time. After the event was over, the group dispersed and I don’t really remember what I did, but I’m sure it involved running around and probably getting spanked. As the evening drew on, Pandora mentioned that she wanted to spank me before she went to bed so I climbed over her lap. She was wearing the most ridiculously wonderful dress ever, which she had purchased while we were on the boardwalk earlier in the day (I just don’t remember when that was). It was low cut and tight to her body and made her ass look perfect. I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off her all night. It was very nice to lie over her lap while she was dressed this way. And by “very nice” I mean “it was hot.” Pandora spanked me with her hand while I giggled and moaned over he lap, and I felt very nicely connected to her. As Pandora noted in her post, it was only made less than perfect by a bystander commenting about how cute it was that there were two little girls spanking each other. Shut up. This is serious business. Well, maybe not, but it’s still no less serious than any one else’s play, and certainly not something to patronize us over.
As the night wore on and I was getting tired for bed, YS decided that it was time for him to “get me,” much to my delight. Not so much to my delight, he had found a cracker barrel type paddle (I think) that was one of the most evil things I’ve ever met in that manner. He bent me over a spanking bench and began to spank me with his hand first, and then with this horrible thing. As usual, he spanked me hard. As usual, I wailed and cried. I felt a bit odd about doing this with people around, especially since PTL had previously been asleep on the sofa pretty close to where my face ended up being, but eventually I lost myself in it. At times, I felt myself panic, tighten, feeling unable to take it but YS reassured me in his usual way: “You’re okay. You’re a sweet girl” and this softened me up to take more. When he finally stopped, I felt swollen and bruised (although I didn’t really look too much worse for the wear, due to my body’s natural magic these days) and we shared a cuddle. I also felt sleepy. Tremendously sleepy. It was late. So I headed off to bed, looking forward to another day of adventures. ♥
*hyperbole.
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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