Kinky gingerbread fun

Somehow I missed making it over to Jigsaw Analogy/Dyke Grrl's blog the last few weeks (actually, I've missed making it to a lot of blogs the last few weeks) where she has some kinky gingerbread baking fun. My personal favorite is the naughty school girl made of chocolate fondant.

That Dyke Grrl is quite the kinky Martha Stewart, whether it's making cookies or loopy toys. Well, you know, except she's actually nice.

Caned for...reading about the 1948 defenestration of Jan Masaryk in Prague?

So I was just getting caught up on reading my Robert Fisk, probably the single greatest English-speaking journalist writing about the Middle East, when I came to his article from earlier today. It began with this rather brutal anecdote.

When I was at school, I was once beaten by a prefect for reading a book on Czech history at a football match...back in 1960, screaming "Come on, Sutton!" at a bunch of grunting, muddied idiots in blue, black and white shirts was deemed more important than the 1948 defenestration of Jan Masaryk in Prague. A prefect later lashed me with a cane on the orders of a spectacularly cruel housemaster whose unwillingness to prevent the most vicious beatings almost equalled his love of soccer and rugby football.

Lordy, not only did you risk being unpopular at public school as a nerd, but apparently you also risked getting beaten!

Spanking fetish aside, I have to say I'm glad my rather strong nerdy tendencies in high school only cost me momentary embarrassement from time to time.

An advent of a different sort

Yesterday I was throwing away my now empty chocolate advent calendar, and as I'm now in a new advent of sorts -- A. comes in ten more days -- it occurred to me that I really need a new advent calendar. My dearest isn't exactly my savior/messiah. But he is more cuddly.

So, I was thinking of a calendar counting down to the day he arrives where each day I open a window revealing a picture of a different implement. And there are a fair number of past implements to chose from...

Granted, considering the dashed spanking expectations of the last few arrivals, we're not making too many plans this time, aside from my overdue birthday spanking (December 8). And, um, a few punishment spankings that merited being delivered in person (::gulp::).

One thing we are looking forward to is our belated Christmas dinner togther. You know, it will sorta be around the same time as Eastern Christmas. And I'm Byzantine Catholic so it'll be kinda like the old country (never mind that neither of us have ancestors from an "old country" that celebrates Christmas on the Julian calander). We've been discussing the menu for said dinner and have reached an impasse regarding the poultry: turkey or chicken.

"But we never get to eat turkey except once or twice a year," I whined.

"And clearly if it was so great, people would be eating it more," A. noted.

"Nuh huh..."

I decided to try a different approach.

"So, uh, if you let us eat turkey I'll let you spank me," I offered. A. laughed.

"Yes, that would be such a sacrifice for you."

I think I've got him talked into turkey, but I also think he's leaning toward my offer. His last words in our dinner discussion, I believe, were something along the lines of "You are going to get such a beating."

::giggle::

Cool.

Merry Spankin' Christmas

Not that Santa is keeping track, but I have been a bit naughty lately.

Last night I introduced my nieces (12 and 10) to "Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo." It goes without saying that they loved it. And then I decided that it would probably be okay to show them an episode of South Park (the very first one -- "Cartman gets an anal probe"). Err... I just hope they didn't go home and ask their mom what a dildo is. Granted, they were going home rather hyped up on sugar. I fed them pumpkin pie for breakfast. And they ate caramels and cookies and other sugary stuff throughout last night and today. Though, they did eat some roasted pumpkin seeds (my favorite part of making pumpkin pie). That's sorta nutritious.

And A. kept telling me that I better not over do it, to which I would respond with silence and then attempt to change the subject. I do have a tendency to push myself at the holidays and then spend days in bed feeling really shitty afterwards. I think the fact that my nieces asked me a couple of times to come sit with them and relax probably means I was over doing it.

Damn.

I did that at Thanksgiving too. And spent several days barely able to take care of myself. Not only did A. tell me that he has plans to deliver my punishment for that in person, but even my caregiver scolded me.

But the Vitamin B-12 No Shot has been giving me more stamina and, well, it's Christmas.

::sweet angelic smile::

Eeek! It's 12:15 am!

Er...Merry Christmas all.

Cartoon memories of a spanko

News of Joseph Barbera's death today caused me to think of all the wonderful cartoons of his I've enjoyed through the years, Scooby-Doo probably being my favorite. But being the sick pervert that I am, I couldn't help but remember some of his delightful cartoons that mesmerized me as a budding, if not yet conscious, spanko.

There was Tom and Jerry, where every now and then Tom's owner would give him a sharp smack on his behind that would show up as a bright red hand print. Oh, how I longed for a bright red handprint on my backside!

But the one that I think really captured my imagination was The Flintstones, where there were a handful of spanking references here and there but one episode in particular that lived repeatedly in my mind: Ladies' Night at the Lodge. It's the one where Wilma and Betty dress up as men so that they can join the Water Buffalo Lodge. But, first they have to make it through the initiation. With lots of paddles. They get paddled over and over. And in the last scene they are at home, playing cards, standing up because their bottoms hurt too much to sit.

As you might imagine, I soooo wanted to join the Water Buffalo Lodge...

Surreal spanko dream land

I had the most bizarre dream last night. Well, yes, I know. Don't we all? ::grin::

After waking up from a dream about a sort of Israel-Palestine museum of understanding in the woods in which an Israeli friend and my Arab-American godfather were both present, and I was trying to keep a shelve of glass dishes from falling on me and breaking all over (gawd I really need to stop reading the Indy so much), I fell back asleep and dreamt I was in an office/apartment (also in the woods -- sorta like a treehouse but with an early 80s modern, autumnal toned interior) in which the cast members of Scrubs and Ally McBeal were mingling. And there was this one woman (who I don't recall belonging to either cast) who I really wanted to spank me.

At one point we were in a room or porch (it was open air but had sofas) alone together and she asked me to spank her. So I shrugged, nodded, and said, "okay." Then I paddled her ass. But she seemed very, very tall (in fact, I vaguely remember a basketball hoop above the couch). Now, granted, I'm only 5', so just about everybody seems tall to me. Yet, as she was bent over with her hands on the sofa, her large, white backside presented for me to spank, my head was just barely taller than her waist.

After paddling her for a bit, she finally told me to stop because she had to leave to go on a trip (also vaguely remember a plane taking off in the background) and she didn't want to be too sore to sit in the plane seat for a lengthy period of time. So, I stopped. And sat on the couch. And still wanted very much for her to spank me. I was contemplating bratting for it when she left.

I woke up this morning feeling profoundly disappointed.

Speaking of planes, A. is hoping to be here just after the first of the year. If you'd like to contribute to his ticket so you can read more posts about me getting spanked, feel free to click on the donation button in the left sidebar. For personal reasons, we have to use my mom's PayPal account, hence the crazy username/email addy.

Absolutely behaving

Don't ya hate it when people flirt with you in a spanko sort of way who you really don't want to?

Okay, yes I suppose this works on a non-spanko level too...

At any rate, yesterday I was taking the trash out when my neighbor popped his head out the door. Now, he always makes me rather uncomfortable. He called security on me once because I was supposedly making too much noise when I was simply sitting quietly in the kitchen. On the other hand, in person he's always very chatty with me -- chatting that usually includes bitching about other people being loud. On one of those occassions when he noticed I had a woman's clothing catalogue in my hand (junk mail is great, isn't it?), he asked if he could have it because he likes to look at them. He routinely has a box of beer cans in front of his door. And when I asked what his name was after he asked mine, he responded, "The Chief."

Um...yeah.

So I'm dragging my trash and recycling bags to the elevator when he asks, "whatchya you doing?"

"Oh, just taking the garbage out." I smile politely. And push the down button.

"You behaving yourself?"

Now, if this was my nurse asking this, she'd get a mischievous grin. When A. asks this question, I get that delicious, squirmy feeling in my belly and, er, down a little further. When The Chief asks me? Um, well, there's this uncomfortable tension in my sternum and a tad bit of disoriention.

"Yes." I smile abruptly. And push the down button again.

"Well, okay then." And he closes the door.

Feels sorta weird answering that question without the slightest bit of naughty intonation, ya know?

Beware of Saudi high school teachers with big sticks

This post over at the Spanking Writers brought back memories of my Saudi "brother" from college.

W. and I were meeting for lunch at the student union after my Arabic class one day, where my professor had explained to us that it is common in Arab culture when a man and a women have to be together alone at, say, a bus stop, for the man to put his hand over his heart and say "you are my sister" (anti 'ukhti). So, at lunch I decided to try out my new Arabic and met W. with anta akhi - you are my brother. He looked at me for a second and then said, "yes, Meechelle, you are my sister." And we called each other sweetie brother and sweetie sister from then on.

What does that have to do with Abel's post? Well, one night when I was supposed to be helping W. with his history class, I got him talking about school in Saudi Arabia where apparently discipline varies considerably from teacher to teacher.

One teacher he had didn't even really care if they showed up and, if I remember correctly, even let them smoke in class (this is the Arab World, after all, where chain smoking is not only not banned, but sort of expected).

Another teacher, however, would walk into the room and bark out, "whoever didn't finish his homework, stand up!"

"And you just did because he was going to know in about five minutes and it would be worse," W. said.

Then he'd call the first student up, who'd hold out his hand upon which the teacher would slam his big stick. And if the student pulled his hand back, the teacher would start beating his leg until he put his hand back out.

"You always hoped you'd be last so he'd be tired," said W. "I was lucky. My hand never broke."

Um, yeah. Like I said, it varied considerably.

Fragments

I came across a poem describing a feminist the other night when I was catching up on some blog reading that, with all the talk about feminism and BDSM over at the Punishment Book, felt so appropriate.

sometimes,
wrists red,
thighs spread or sewn
with purple tape to match
the next morning’s bruises.

Go check out the entire thing here.

My Appalled Feminist and Me

As I've alluded to at times here and over at the Punishment Book, I've been struggling a lot with my punishment fetish this last year. And I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to articulate the whole thing. Well, I've started to with this post at the PB today about how my Appalled Feminist and I have come to some sort of uneasy truce about the whole thing.

Story: Natty Gets a Nanny [F/F ]

Okay, how's this for eroticization of illness? ;)

I've been chipping away at this story for about a year now. Partly because of all the being sick and stuff. But also partly because I'll go through phases where I'll fantasize about enemas but then the phase will be over and the whole idea will really squick me.

It's also been funny to observe Natty and Nanny Bea in the story with the nanny sort of representing my adult self and Natty representing my, well, child-like Natty self. Needless to say, I have a lot of interesting arguments between the two. Lordy, no wonder I'm so sick...

At any rate, enjoy.

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Natty Gets a Nanny [F/F, spanking, thermometer, enema]


Natty's daddy decided that she needed a nanny.

Daddy was often out of town and Natty had a penchant for getting into mischief when left on her own. She was also rather sickly and needed help remembering to take her medicine and eat healthy meals and take a nap and not stay on the computer for too long and go to bed at her appointed bed time. And sometimes she was just plain naughty and refused to stay in bed at all.

So, Daddy put an advertisement in the Nanny Times. Interviewed many, many nannies. Only a very special nanny would be right for his girl.

[....]



Some of the nannies seemed too severe. Natty wasn't a bad girl, just a bit willful and rambunctious at times. She didn't need a concentration camp guard. Indeed, because she was sickly, she needed lots of cuddles and care.

But some of the nannies seemed a bit too lenient. Natty was a smart girl and could argue her way out of just about anything. She needed a wise, firm hand -- preferably a hand with a hairbrush.

When Daddy interviewed Beatrice Seymour, he decided that she was the perfect nanny for Natty. A tall, thick, middle-aged woman with a warm smile, she was the perfect mixture of tender caregiver and traditional disciplinarian.

"I see here that you used to be a nurse," Daddy said as he held her resume.

"Yes, for twenty years. Though, I should warn you that some of my methods are a bit out-of-style these days. I think people rely far too much on pills alone, if you know what I mean."

"Indeed. Often the old tried and true remedies are the best."

"Well, I think so," said Nanny Bea.

So, it was settled. Nanny Bea began as Natty's nanny that night, which was good because Daddy had to leave that afternoon to go far far away.

At 9 pm she told Natty to take her medicine and brush her teeth and put on her jimjams. It was hours earlier than Natty normally went to bed, but she was tired that night anyway. Once she snuggled under the covers, Nanny Bea read to Natty until she fell asleep. Kissed her on the forehead and turned out the light.

The next morning Natty couldn't help but scowl when Nanny Bea made her porridge for breakfast -- a thin gruel of rice, oats, and barley. No cinnamon toast or eggs and sausage or pancakes with maple syrup. And certainly no ice cream.

"It's what the Chinese eat for breakfast," said Nanny Bea. "They call it 'congee' or 'jook' and believe that the longer it simmers the more powerful it gets. I started it in the crock pot last night. This particular one is good for building your qi."

"But I'm not Chinese," mumbled Natty.

"No, you're not, but you could stand for a little more qi," said Nanny Bea.

"But can't I get it from Cheerios? Even Raisin Bran is better than this."

Nanny Bea smiled.

"Eat your porridge, please."

So Natty did, but felt sulky. Though, she did admit to herself that it was sorta cool pretending to be Chinese.

Later that day, Nanny Bea made sure Natty did her physical therapy exercises. She also made Natty take a nap in the afternoon and every time Natty got on her laptop, Nanny Bea would set the timer for one hour, after which Natty had to close her laptop and lay down for at least fifteen minutes. There was lentil soup for lunch and a chicken dish for dinner with something called millet. And lots and lots of vegetables.

When nine o'clock came around again, Nanny Bea announced that it was time to get ready for bed.

"But it's three hours before my bedtime and Daddy always lets me watch South Park reruns at 11."

"Fair enough," said Nanny Bea. "But you can only watch it if you get ready for bed now."

"Okay," agreed Natty, who nodded and headed to the bathroom.

"Natty, dear," started Nanny Bea, who entered the bathroom right behind Natty, "before you take your bath tonight, I want to take your temperature and give your insides a good cleaning out."

Hmm...Natty understood the temperature part. She often had fevers at night. But the cleaning out of her insides had her rather confused. Isn't that what Raisin Bran is for?

"Take down your trousers and panties and lay over my lap, please." Nanny Bea sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

Natty gasped. That was how Daddy spanked her!

"But I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Of course not, dear. I just want to take your temperature."

"That way? But I'm not a baby! I can hold it in my mouth just fine."

"Rectal temperatures are more accurate," Nanny Bea said calmly. "Now please do as I asked."

"No! No! That...that's ridiculous!" Natty stamped her little foot.

"Very well, then." Nanny Bea stood up and grabbed Natty by the arm. "I'll let you think about it in the corner while I get the enema ready."

Enema?!

Natty was so shocked by what she heard that it took her several seconds to realize her nose was pointed at the intersection of two white walls. However, once she realized that Nanny Bea was busy in the bathroom, Natty marched right out of that corner and over to the telephone.

"Daddy, you've hired a mad woman," she said when she heard her daddy's voice on the other line.

"Oh no! What's wrong?"

"First she made me eat this icky porridge for breakfast and now she wants to take my temperature in my bum and give me an enema!"

"Ah, won't do you any harm. Might even do you some good."

"But she wants to stick some pokey glass thing and a rubber hose up my ass!"

"Yes, and you'll let her," he said.

How could he be so completely indifferent to her suffering?

"Well...when that thermometer breaks, and I get mercury poisoning, you'll be sorry!"

Daddy chuckled. Then his voice got very stern. "And if you don't do what Nanny Bea tells you, you'll be very sorry when she gives you a good tanning. And then you'll be even more sorry when I find out that you were a naughty girl and give you a good caning."

Gulp.

Daddy's cane hurt. A lot.

"Yes, Sir," Natty said with a whimper.

"Now, be a good girl and do what Nanny says."

"Yes, Sir."

Natty sighed heavily as she hung up the phone and turned to head back to the corner. Except when she turned around, Nanny Bea was standing there with a hairbrush.

Gulp.

"And what does Daddy have to say?"

Natty swallowed hard. Looked at the floor.

"To be a good girl and do what you say."

"Indeed," said Nanny Bea. "But you didn't do what I said when I told you to stand in the corner, did you?"

Natty shook her head as she stared at the carpet. Nanny Bea sighed.

"Well, I'm sorry it's come to this so quickly, but I suppose that perhaps it's for the best that we established this up front." She grabbed Natty's wrist and led her to the couch. "Take off your trousers and panties and lay over my lap, please."

This time, Natty did as she was told.

"I know it's hard getting used to someone new, with all of the new things they do." Nanny Bea stroked Natty's hair and back. "But I'm only doing all of these new things because I care very much about you and want to do what would be the very healthiest for you."

"Okay," Natty squeaked.

"And because I only do those things that are good for you, I expect your complete obedience, Miss Natty. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Nanny," Natty answered barely above a whisper.

"Good."

Natty Bea placed her left hand in the middle of Natty's back and began peppering her plump bottom with the ebony hairbrush. Rapid fire smacks that had Natty squirming and crying out.

"Now, every night I'm going to take your temperature in this very position," Nanny Bea explained as she smacked her charge. "And then I'm going to give you a spanking to remind you to be a good girl. If you've been a good girl that day, then it will be a very short one, and I will only use my hand." The hard spanks continued to splat against Natty's flesh. "But if you have been naughty, then I will use this hairbrush very hard and for a very long time. Understood?"

"Oh -- OW! OWEE!-- yes, Nanny. OWWW!" Natty curled her toes and shut her eyes very tight.

"And once a week, after I've taken your temperature but before your spanking, I will give you a nice warm enema to make sure you're good and clean inside."

Natty whimpered and covered her face with her hands as Nanny Bea's hairbrush continued it's assault.

"And you will let me take your temperature, as well as take your spanking and enema like a good girl, yes?"

After more whimpering and crying, Natty managed to nod her head and murmur a "yes, Nanny."

"Good. And just for good measure, I'm going to give you several good, hard spanks on your thighs. Your daddy told me this is very effective on you."

"Oh no -- please, no, Nanny!"

But it was a futile plea as Nanny Bea laid ten solid, slightly less forceful spanks on each fleshy thigh. Natty squealed and kicked her legs.

"None of that, please." Nanny Bea gave Natty a stingy tap on her right calf, then returned to give her thighs ten more smacks while Natty howled. "Alright, then. All done."

Natty cried into the sofa cushion as Nanny Bea put the hairbrush on the table, rubbed Natty's blotchy red-purple bottom and thighs and stroked her hair.

"Shhh...it's all over now, dear. I know you'll be a very good girl now."

Once Natty finished crying and was breathing softly again, Nanny Bea led Natty into the bedroom. After assembling a glass thermometer, a tin of salve, and an enema bag on the table next to the bed, she put on a latex glove, sat down on the edge of the bed and laid down a towel.

"Okay, Natty dear. Come lay down on your tummy for me please." Nanny Bea patted the towel. After Natty positioned herself on the bed, Nanny Bea spread Natty's cheeks and dabbed a bit of salve on her bummy hole. Then slid the cold, glass thermometer inside the goo.

It was so pokey. Natty couldn't help but whimper. But Nanny Bea patted her bottom and stroked her hair while waiting until it was time to take the thermometer out.

"Excellent. No fever tonight." Nanny Bea put the thermometer on the table. "Now, I'm going to put my finger inside to help you relax that sphincter muscle a bit. But this time I want you to help me by holding your cheeks open with your hands and pressing down inside as if you're going to poop."

Natty reached back and held her cheeks open as Nanny Bea slathered salve on her latex-covered finger, then circled her finger around Natty's bummy hole. After massaging it a bit, Nanny Bea gently, but firmly pushed her finger inside, causing Natty to let out a soft gasp. Once it was in, however, it didn't hurt like she thought it would.

But it did feel very very weird. And it made Natty whimper.

"Just relax, dear." Nanny Bea caressed Natty's hair.

How do you relax when you've got someone's finger up your butt?

"Take a deep breath and then slowly breath out."

That made her feel a little better.

"Hmm...as I suspected. You can definitely do with a cleaning out." Nanny Bea grabbed the nozzle of the enema bag and put some salve on the end of it. "Okay, now I'm going to put the nozzle in. You keep being a good girl and hold those cheeks for me. "

After a gentle poke, the nozzle rested inside Natty's bummy hole. Natty whimpered some more.

"Alright, you can let go of your cheeks." Nanny Bea tapped Natty's bottom as her cheeks relaxed. Sorta. "I'm going to start the enema now. Once I undo the clip, I'll count to six, then clip the tube, count to ten, then remove the clip again until all the water is inside. If it starts to hurt too much, let me know and I'll pause the flow."

The warm water coming in didn't really hurt, just felt rather peculiar. At first. And then --

"I have to go! I have to go right now!" Natty cried.

"It's alright. Hang on for a few more seconds and it will pass."

So Natty bit her lip and took a breath and waited like Nanny Bea said. But she couldn't help it that she started to cry a little.

"Are you feeling okay now?" Nanny Bea asked a moment later.

"Uh huh," Natty nodded.

"Good girl," said Nanny Bea as she patted Natty's bottom and unclipped the enema tube.

After Nanny Bea filled Natty all up, she removed the nozzle and replaced it with a lubricated plug.

"I want you to hold the water inside for five minutes so it has time to work," she said. "This plug will help you keep it all in there."

And while they waited, Nanny Bea rubbed Natty's back and stroked her hair and told her what a very good girl she had been during her very first enema and that she was very proud of her. It made Natty smile and sigh a happy sigh, even though she still felt very uncomfortable.

"Now after you go potty," Nanny Bea instructed as the five minutes came to an end, "you are not to wipe." Her voice had a certain firmness to it that, while authoritative, was not at all mean. "I will do that for you whenever I give you enema because one, I want to remind you, Miss Natty, that while I'm your nanny, I'm the one in charge of every part of you." Then her voice softened. "And two, because you've had to take care of yourself all by yourself a lot of the time and I know that's really hard. I want you to always remember that I'm here to take care of you no matter how unpleasant or embarrassing it might be. Okay?"

Natty felt her eyes start to water again as she smiled and nodded. It was true. It really is hard to be sick all by yourself.

Nanny Bea then let Natty up and helped her waddle to the bathroom where she removed the plug and -- finally! -- let Natty go potty. While Natty sat on the toilet, Nanny Bea drew her a bath with lots of lavender-smelling bubbles. And when Natty was done, just as she said she would, Nanny Bea wiped Natty's sore bottom with a warm wet washcloth before letting her charge settle into a nice, hot bath.

"Oh!" Natty gasped as the water burned her bottom. "It stings!"

"Well, I should think it will for a few days," Nanny Bea smirked.

And she was right. Natty's bottom was still smarting the next morning as she ate her congee. And in the bath the next night before she got into her jimjams and watched South Park re-runs until bedtime. But it was a good sort of smarting. Just like after Daddy spanked her. A reminder that her new nanny loved her and would always take care of her.

Copyright 2006 Natty

Spanko Calandar

Iris over at the Punishment Book wondered about what dates you could put on a personalized calendar for spankos. Fireman Chris, ever the resourceful fellow, had plenty of suggestions.

Hmm...maybe I should use this as some sort of fundraiser for A.'s plane ticket over for Christmas....

Thankful for my readers

Among a whole lot of reasons to be thankful this Thanksgiving is that I have some very wonderful readers! Thanks for reading and commenting and hanging in with me through illness and vanilla spells and lots and lots of me rambling.

Many blessings to you all!

Story: The Sub Strikes Back

Okay, I'm just reposting this story as I had to delete it when something about it messed up my whole blog last month when I first posted it along with its Short Story Contest second place certificate jpeg. So, here it is again sans jpeg, for you to read and be disturbed by it over and over and over again... ;)

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The Sub Strikes Back (Edge) 497 words [M/F; F/M]


Dennys smelled like cheap coffee, bacon and French fries. It made Dana hungry. Not that her stomach wasn't busy enough with all those damn butterflies.

Her eyes skimmed the booths and tables for a red polo shirt, finally stopping at a middled-aged man with a receding hairline in a far corner.

"James?"

[.....]

Her new disciplinarian bade her to sit down across from him. After a few moments of chit chat and menu-scanning, the waitress came to take their order. Dana ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries.

"Actually," James said to the waitress, "she'll be having the Ceasar's salad." He looked down at Dana. "You said you were having problems with your weight. And clearly you are."

Dana flushed. Sucked in her stomach.

"What are you having, hon?" The waitress looked at Dana.

"The salad," she murmured.

James pursed his lips after the waitress left.

"I'll deal with this later."

When he said stuff like that online or on the phone, it usually made her giddy. But now it gave her a sort of painful, clammy feeling.

Later the salad sloshed uncomfortably as the pillows piled on her bed pressed against Dana's stomach. James rubbed her bare buttocks after smacking them hard for several minutes.

"You're a very bad girl, aren't you?"

Someone else had said that once to Dana while rubbing her bare bottom. When it was not quite as fat and her violated cunt was still bald.

She thought she was going to throw up.

"Bad girls get punished." James took off his belt. "Don't they?"

Dana blinked away the tears that were surfacing.

"Answer me!" James whipped her with the belt. "Bad girls get punished, don't they?"

Dana nodded into the pillows.

"I can't hear you." He slapped the leather on her skin again. "Tell me what happens to bad girls."

A hot feeling started at the base of her spine...That look the waitress gave James, then her. It moved up into her sternum, throughout her chest, arms and finally her stomach.

"I'm not a bad girl." Hushed, yet firm.

"Are you talking back to me?" He lashed Dana's flesh.

"Stop...you have to stop right now..." She paused for a moment. "Red..Red!"

"I don't do safewords," James laughed. "You're being punished. And there are no safewords during a punishment spanking."

Dana turned over onto her back, the belt cutting into the arm she held up to protect herself.

"I said stop!"

"I give the orders. You do what I tell you to do, bitch."

She didn't think. Just kicked. Her foot hitting his testicles. James dropped the belt as he doubled over and Dana scurried to grab it.

"I told you to fucking stop!" she screamed.

She whipped his legs. His ass. His hip. His back. Sobbing, Dana shook her head.

"I'm not a bad girl. I'm not."

Still clutching the belt, she pointed at the door.

"Now get the fuck out of my house before I call the police!"

Copyright 2006 Natty

I'm in trouble

Yep. I so am.

Spank-a-thon

This is very last minute for you folks here in the Portland area but I'm afraid I just got the email telling me about it.

The Portland Leather Alliance is hosting a Vendor Fair and Play Party including a Spank-a-thon at the Ambridge Event Center on 300 NE Multnomah tomorrow, November 18th.

The Vendor Fair is a group of mostly local craftspeople and retailers who come together to sell kinky sexual stuff. They will have Awntie Perv, Kinky Medical, Blade Runner, Boss Bondage, WIAN Studios, Corset Connection, Kinky Celts, Julia, WT Unlimited, Motivational Tools, Loves Leathers, To The Wind Leather, Twisted Toys, Odd a Tees, WolfeBridge Woodwork and more. It begins at noon and goes until 5 pm. Admission is $1.

At the Vendor Fair you can buy tickets for the Play Party, which will be held in 4600 square feet of dungeon space filled with St Andrew's Crosses, Suspension beams, Caning Benches, Spanking horses, a Medical Play area and more. Admission to that is $10 and will be held between 8pm and 1am.

During the Vendor Fair and Play Party, the PLA will be raising money for the Sexual Minority Youth Resource Center with a Spank-a-thon. You'll need a partner, all spanks are with a hand, and you'll need to bring your sponsor sheet to the event. For further information, email rwblount {at} earthlink {dot} net or show up at the Vendors Fair tomorrow.

If A. was here and I wasn't so sick, I'd sooooo be going. I've been to other PLA events before and they are a really great group of people. And what a fun way to raise money!

Oh, and if you can't make it tomorrow but are available for their Holiday Social on December 10th, one of the charities for that event is very near and dear to my heart -- Outside In -- a medical clinic where I've been getting free/low-cost acupuncture for years. It's worth every bit of generosity you can give it.

"Who will be the first one to say the S word?"

That was A.'s question when I told him a little bit ago about my appointment with my anticoagulation nurse this afternoon -- you know, the one I mentioned in this post.

Sometime during the summer I noticed that I would often dress up when I had an appointment with Nurse K. A voice inside my head taunted me with you are so trying to woo her. To which I responded with a sound "am not." Then a few seconds later gasped and went omg, I am!

While I didn't really dress up today -- in fact, I didn't even bother getting out of my jammies, just pulled my sweats on over them -- I did decide that, well, fuck it. Let's just be really provocative and wear my hair in pigtails. So I did. My long, baby fine hair streaming out of two pink hair bands and tangling up with my multi-colored scarf.

The first part of the appointment was all serious with questions about whether or not my immune system can handle a tetanus shot and finding a suitable vein from which to draw blood. The little strips that they usually use to check my clotting time, which simply involves pricking my finger, have been recalled so the last couple of weeks they've had to do an actual blood draw. But, thanks to all my layers under my big black coat keeping me warm (which she said made me look like a penguin) and K.'s skill we managed to get a whole vial on the first stick.

"You're such a good patient," she told me. Which made me smile my good-girl smile.

After scheduling my next appointments (yep, it really is plural), I got ready to go. Gave K. the mandatory hug. Then she started buttoning up my coat.

"You need to stay warm when you go out." She put my hood up. "Do you need this too?"

"Uh, no, I don't think I quite need that," I giggled.

"I know, I know," she said. "'Stop smothering me,' right?"

"Oh, no you're -- "

"Did you want to take this home with you?" K. snapped the rubber tourniquet at me a few times.

"Nah, think I'll let you keep it," I giggled some more. K. got a bit sheepish.

"Don't tell anybody I was doing that! They'll tell me to quit beating the patients!" We both laughed.

Ah...if only... ::grin::

Startled at dictionary.com

So, I was writing an email to A. the other day as part of my recent punishment and started writing the word "gotten." Then wondered if "gotten" was actually a real word. So, I looked it up.

Not only is it a real word, but they even used it in a sentence with spanking. The screen shot is below with my having circled the sentence (which, lemme tell ya, is harder to do in Paint than you might think):

Spanko Blog Delurk Day

Admit it. You love to read spanking blogs. You wander long into the night around the various links on various pages. You read all about our spankings and thoughts on spanking and even read our stories. You come from Germany, Spain, Hungary, even Baghdad and Washington D.C. By the thousands (at least, that's what Stat Counter tells me). But you never comment.

You, my friend, are a lurker.

Which is totally cool. Especially today, as it's your very special day.

Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts had the brilliant idea (as she often does) to make a day just for you. It's your day to stand up -- or just timidly raise your hand -- and share as little or as much as you like about yourself and your kink. We promise we'll be very nice. In fact, you even might make some new friends.

So go ahead. Click the comments section and tell us a little bit about who you are in Rochester, Bayern, Barcelona, London, or Reston -- or where ever you are. :-)

Some naughty thoughts involving nurses

As you might imagine, I spend a lot of time with various medical professionals these days, including nurses.

There was a week last month when I was in and out of the ER twice because of shortness of breath (they finally decided it was bronchitis and the beginnings of asthma). Both times another pulmonary embolism had to be ruled out, which usually involves getting a CT scan with a contrast dye and requires a large needle IV. During the first visit the nurse was hunting for a suitable vein (a rather daunting task at times) and remarked at how fair my skin was. "Oh, you're so gonna need to be careful as you get older that you don't break your skin with tape and stuff." You don't even want to know what my boyfriend does to me, I thought. ::evil grin::

The nurse I see most consistently is K., the one who does my anticoagulation therapy. And while I said awhile back that I didn't have any spanking fantasies about her, that has now changed. I mean, how can it not when at my last appointment she says stuff like "you better behave this week" while hugging me and sending me on my way? If I hadn't been so lethargic that day, I probably would have had some mischievous come back. But, alas, I just mumbled a bland "I'll try."

Indeed, the day after the second trip to the emergency room I was rather hyper in that way little kids are right before they're about to crash (I blame the Albuterol - asthma medicine - they gave me in the ER). Okay, the Laffy Taffy I kept eating all day also probably contributed to my exhausted jitteriness. I imagined Nurse K. catching me with my hand in the bag of Laffy Taffy in the cupboard when I was supposed to be in bed. Telling me that she thought I'd had quite enough of that for one day. Asking me what my discharge instructions were (Rest and avoid stimulants). Asking me if I'd actually been resting (er...um, well, not really, but hey, I did finally put away the clothes my caregiver washed and folded the week before...). Finally sitting down and saying, "alright, over my lap." Then giving me a good, long spanking with a hairbrush.

In reality, I doubt she'd be doing any spanking. This is the same nurse who said I was fragile. In fact, I'm quite sure she'd be horrified to know my boyfriend has beaten me with a riding crop or a wooden spoon while I've been taking Coumadin.

Not that she couldn't wield a wicked wooden spoon herself I'd imagine...

Lordy I so need to finish that nanny story I've been working on since -- omg, it's been a whole year now! How pathetic is THAT?!

Unbearable fantasies?

Lately my fantasies have centered around being given a long, sound spanking with a hairbrush. Hard and rapid fire. And way, way past my breaking point so that I lose my ability to bear the pain and the spanking keeps going. And going. And going some more until I'm well and truly blubbering.

Generally when anybody spanks me, they stop too soon. I'm always what seems like a few more minutes away from the spanking being well beyond what I can endure when it suddenly stops -- well within my ability to process the pain, despite how much it truly does hurt. Once a spanko friend said he could have me crying and begging for the spanking to stop, and I replied honestly and matter-of-factly: your arm will get tired first. He thought I was being cheeky and spanked me some more. But still not any where near enough to make me cry.

Of course, there are some logistical reasons why my fantasy won't work at the moment. My beloved is 5000 miles away. I'm on anti-coagulants and should avoid excessive bruising.

There are also more ambivalent issues, like, I live with a chronic pain condition (Fibromyalgia) in which my brain is not processing pain properly in the first place, and I'm not sure that turning up the amplifier even more is a great idea. I mean, each day I take two separate narcotics, along with a muscle relaxant and an anti seizure medicine just to make life tolerable. The primary muscular-skeletal area (as in, one of several types of pain I live with) in which I'm in pain is my sacro-iliac region - i.e. the middle of my right buttock. Surely spanking can't possibly be a good thing for that -- especially one as awful as what I'm fantasizing about.

Are there just some fantasies that, while having great aesthetic appeal, should just stay fantasy?

Bloody Blogger

Those of you who read this blog via Internet Explorer (personally, I'm partial to Firefox) have not been able to much lately because of some unknown glitch that apparently has involved the post with the story "A Sub Strikes Back." I've deleted that post, as well as the graphics for the "Keep torture for consenting perverts only" post and the post about the movie Another Country. I'll repost the story another day.

Blogger is in the process of upgrading its software, and I have been reticent to switch to the new beta version -- mostly because beta versions are notorious for being buggy and I didn't want the stress. Apparently they've decided that those who fail to "upgrade" are the ones who will suffer the bugs.

Bastards. Never trust a company with the motto, "Don't be evil."

At any rate, a big, big, big thank you to sparkle for taking a look at the source code and finding the offensive post. Also thanks to poiesia who gave me a heads up that something was wrong (the blog always shows up fine in Firefox). I've decided I should probably check on how the blog looks once a week in IE. However, if you all ever notice an abrupt change in appearance and have a moment, feel free to email me heads-up!

Internet luvin

O.

M.

G.

It's internet enabled?

A. and I sooo have to get this. I mean, not that phone D/s isn't fun and all. And there's been an internet element to it as he either sends me emails with instructions for his call, or tells me what to do on the phone and then has me email him with the results.

But the thought of a Rabbit Vibrator that he can control? Oh WOW!

(Hat tip to Pink Bottomed Girls)

One of those sorts of mornings

Some mornings you just wake up and think, "damn I need to be spanked!"

Today is one of those mornings (okay, it's actually afternoon, but morning to me). I'm sitting here at my laptop trying to wake up by reading my emails and eating the chicken tetrazzini Meals on Wheels just delivered, and all I can think about is how nice it would be to get a jolly good thrashing. With a hairbrush preferably.

Sigh.

A. and I did some spanking over the phone the other day, but it's awkward not only for the obvious reasons of angle and difficulty really hitting myself hard enough but also because neither of us can see if and how much I'm bruising. Gawd I really hate Coumadin.

He was successful, however, in causing some delicious discomfort to my, um -- lol I can't hardly say it out loud much less type it! -- well, you know, between the cheeks. First I had to put a little bit of toothpaste there, then insert peeled ginger root. O. M. G! After five or so minutes, I could barely follow any of his other instructions as the sting had become impossible to ignore.

It was absolutely yummy.

What wasn't yummy, though, was that my failure to follow commands meant I ended up with a bar of soap in my mouth. But -- ::evil chuckle:: -- between the soap being right out of the package and my mouth being parched, I really didn't get much soapy taste. He he he...

Right. I need to stop having so many damn doctor's appointments and other medical shit to deal with so I can blog more about spanking.

Yup. Definitely.

Keep torture for consenting perverts only!

I really want to encourage all of you fellow perverts out there to participate in Amnesty International's "The America I Believe In" campaign. While I'll admit to being skeptical about just how much real political effect signing a pledge on a website has, I figure it can't hurt. And the recent Military Commissions Act of 2006 goes against every ideal America is supposed to stand for, as well as a whole host of basic, internationally-agreed upon human rights. It deserves as much condemnation as we can give it.

School canings and a Communist Colin Firth

Just finished watching a brilliant movie, Another Country, set in a British public school during the 1930s. I figured with that sort of setting, there's got to be at least one good caning in it, ya know? And there is, though the way in which it was done - a sort of peer imposed discipline - didn't quite work for me (though I had that most bizarre of spankee thoughts -- hmm...I wonder what it would be like to get caned that hard...wait, no, don't think that and for gawd's sake don't say that to A.!).

What did work for me was Colin Firth as a moralistic, self-righteous Communist spouting off about the bourgeoisie and the proletariat throughout the movie. OMG! Can there be a more dreamy toppish character? ::swoon:: I keep trying to put my finger on just what makes Colin Firth so hot. I mean, he's fairly plain when you compare him to other hot guys. I dunno. I really think it's that he emits some sort of spanko vibe that even non-spanko women find unwittingly appealing and makes those of us who are spankos simply drool.

Spanking and a Communist Colin Firth aside, Another Country really is a great movie in exploring class (again, set in a British public school so class is going to be a central issue) and sexuality (you know, boys having sex with boys but for heaven's sake don't ever get caught). Rupert Everett plays Guy Bennett, a gay schoolboy who later goes on to betray his country as a spy for the Russians (don't worry, I haven't spoiled the plot, you learn that in the first five minutes or so). The film, as the stage play before it, explores the psychology behind how Bennett, based on the real-life Guy Burgess, could come to a point where he would chose to be a traitor.

Interestingly enough, his affair is with a character played by Carey Elewes -- you know, Westley from The Princess Bride. Actually, Another Country is about four years before his "as you wish" days so he's just this cute, freckled-face lad. And being the bad Catholic that I am, I thought it quite apt that he's played both a gay schoolboy and the future Pope John Paul II.

It's funny because movies or books set in lavish school settings always bring out the Lisa Simpson in me. There's more than one scene of Everett and Firth reading or talking in a wood-paneled room with a bay window -- my idea of academic nirvana. Indeed, I remember when I read Catcher in the Rye, I had a hard time finding Holden Caulfield at all sympathetic because all I could think was, "oh boo hoo, you only have access to the best education money can buy and a family home next to Central Park! Gawd it must suck to be you!" (I think you can see where a Communist Colin Firth would be so appealing to me...)

Which reminds me of my last post. I think the reason my spanking life is so unlike spanking fiction is that I'm both "Natty" and Lisa Simpson stuck in the same body. LOL -- hell, that's probably why I'm so sick...

Anti-spanking fiction

Earlier today I was taking the Five Factor Personality quiz that Mija had posted on her blog from awhile back (I'm sooo behind on my blog-reading) and had to kind of laugh at my results on the second factor: conscientiousness.

You have high conscientiousness.
Intelligent and reliable, you tend to succeed in life.
Most things in your life are organized and planned well.
But you borderline on being a total perfectionist.

It's especially funny as just last night I was thinking about how A.'s and my spanking life is sorta anti-spanking fiction. He's the more disorganized, unstructured, "bend the rules" sort, while I'm generally the neat, obedient, anal retentive control freak. I mean, sometimes I'm late for appointments. I can procrastinate at times, which probably contributes to my being late. Well, that and trying to cram way too much into too little time. Every now and then I still get willful when it comes to respecting my physical limitations. But when it comes right down to it, I'm just not really that naughty. Granted, I'm bedridden most of the time so it's not like I really have the opportunity to do much that's naughty. But even when I'm healthy, I'm generally a very good girl.

It's hard to be a good spanko when you're just not really very naughty, ya know?

I dunno. Would I be more naughty if I wasn't sick? Would I have been more like my Allie/Natty alter-ego if my health and childhood environment had been different? There is something in me that innately longs for discipline and yet, in most respects, I am fairly self-disciplined. A part of me that longs to be rambunctious and willful and naughty, that wants candy and ice cream, but another part of me that likes watching PBS and making nice Chinese herbal soups and resting. Was I just my own parent for so long that both the child and the parent are now innate parts of me?

I do know there are naughty aspects of me that I suppress. My inner smart-ass, for instance. Or normal self-indulgence. I'm tactful and empathetic because those were vital survival skills growing up. Yet I do think that I suppress them far too much. Being a bit of an ego-centric bitch would probably be handy at the doctor's office on occasion. However, if I need to stop suppressing them, getting punished for expressing them probably wouldn't be the best course of action. Hmm...maybe I should get punished if don't express them. Maybe knowing that I'm going to be spanked if, say, I'm not assertive with my doctor would be a good thing.

Might have helped me last week when I should have insisted that Dr. H check me for a type of bacterial infection I strongly suspect I might have but instead remained silent because when I mentioned it before he looked at me like I was completely crazy. I was really annoyed with myself later. Even more annoyed with myself a few days after that when the acupuncturist asked why I just didn't insist that he do the blood test. I mumbled something about the test requiring a lot of precautions and stuff, to which she simply shrugged and said it's not that big of a deal for him to manage, which I knew was true.

Believe it or not, I'm actually a lot more assertive than I used to be and that's in large part because of all the health problems since my ill-fated surgery seven years ago. I mean, I actually ask questions now.

But, well, being spanked for not being enough of a smart ass would still make for odd spanking stories.

Primate spanking?

A. and I were just talking and he wondered if primates spank each other. A quick Google search didn't yield much beyond "spanking the monkey" references. Any biologists out there who could provide an answer?

A whole book

Ah, my poor spanking blog has been neglected of late. My DSL was out of service, my nieces came to spend the night and wore me out big time, and I've been distracted by a lengthy, decidedly non-kink discussion over at my vanilla blog regarding the Pope, Islam, and the nature of violence.

Yeah, it's soooo time to get back to spanking.

Since my phone doesn't work when my DSL is down, my mom had to come over last Saturday so that I could use her cell phone to call Qwest. When she did, she brought all five of my sister's kids over, along with her own husband and my 21-year-old brother with Down Syndrome. It made for a full house, or rather, studio apartment. Keeping twin five-year olds quiet was a bit of a job. At one point, my mom's husband was sitting on my bed and looked up at my bookshelf.

"You kids better be good. Your aunt has a whole book on disciplining and punishing."

The book in question was Michel Foucault's Discipline and Punish.

I laughed.

"Yep," he said. "I bet there's all kinds of punishments in there."

Yes. Yes there are. If drawing and quartering is your sort of thing. Well, okay, there is an illustration of a spanking machine.

However, for a history text with juicy spanking details, I prefer Phillippe Aries' Centuries of Childhood. There's a whole chapter on school discipline.

My nieces and nephew hardly needed any disciplining or punishing though as they were nearly perfect angels while I was on the phone.

Really. :)

Random

I swear this assortment of spanking implements on my kitchen counter ended up there in completely random, non-kinky ways.

Really.

The pancake turner I took out last week to lift an omelette off the gridle -- for which is was woefully ineffective. We bought it at the Dollar Store in June, despite A.'s suspicion that its bark was worse than it's bite. He was right. It's also woefully ineffective as a spanking implement. It is helpful, however, in killing cockroaches, which is what I've been using it for lately.

The flyswatter I've been using to kill cockroaches elsewhere in my apartment. Not sure how it made it into the kitchen. If you were able to zoom in on it, you'd see that the top of it is broken after I was spanked with it when A. first found it last summer.

The wooden spoon started out in the toybox/craft box under the bed, then made its appearance in this post when A. broke two of my kitchen wooden spoons on my back side. It was laying on my desk in the kitchen afterward as I tried to decide if I wanted to leave it in the kitchen to replace the broken spoons, or return it to the toybox. The other day I decided to clean off my desk and placed the spoon on the counter during the process.

And then last night I was printing up some photos and grabbed my twenty-four inch ruler, which is always next to my desk, to measure the various frames. It too made it to the counter when I was cleaning up the debris of cutting up pictures to fit into frames.

See. Totally random.

I've been trying to tell everyone...

You Are a Good Girl

You are 80% Good and 20% Bad Generally speaking, you're a very good girl. (But you don't have us totally fooled!)

Are You a Good Girl or a Bad Girl?

Natty's wish list

Nathan Rysher on the soc.sexuality.spanking newsgroup posted today about a children's book he had come acrossed called John Patrick Norman McHennessy: The boy who was always late. So, I went to Amazon and found it and thought it would be a handy thing to put on my wish list. Except, I thought it would look pretty odd among all the academic stuff I've got listed. And then it hit me: why not make a wish list for Natty?

So, this afternoon/evening I've been doing just that. I created an account for Natty and set up a wish list and put all kinds of books and pervertibles on it. If only Ian at The London Tanners or the kind folks at Adam and Gillians had some way to put their fine wares on my wish list...

I've been in my Natty mood big time the last couple of days and this gave my Natty self something to pass the time. It's been a long time since I was in this sort of a mood. Probably close to a year. I was starting to think she'd disappeared altogether until I started to feel her around a bit in May. Then I had the PE and went back into health crisis mode.

Not sure I'm all that keen on being spanked yet. My coccyx/pelvis/sacrum is still really achy. But then, part of being in my Natty mood has been about feeling very willful and not at all interested in that will being checked.

The Pinto of laptops

I have decided that I have the Pinto of laptops.

Since buying my Averatec 3150 over two and a half years ago, I have gotten quite a bit of mileage from it, but also a lot of problems. It had a virus right out of the box. The bottom heats up very quickly so that it often has to shut down in order to cool off. Indeed, it heats up so quickly that it was confiscated by security at Ben Gurion airport when I went to leave after attending a conference in Jerusalem. I got it back four days later with a piece of the grating over the fan missing.

Then there was the broken LCD screen. That was fixed almost a year or so ago, but it still goes dark frequently when I turn the computer on in the morning.

And now my ethernet port is broken. Though there is free WiFi in downtown Portland, my laptop's built-in WiFi sucks and the heat fries any WiFi card. If I take my laptop out onto the balcony I can get a decent connection, but I'm not strong enough to sit up for very long so I haven't been doing much more than reading email and a little bit of news.

However I think I've finally figured out how to MacGyver it, as my grandpa used to say. I've duct taped the ethernet cord to the bottom very tightly and that seems to allow me to keep a decent connection for the time being. So, hopefully I'll be able to get back to blogging.

But one of these days I soooo want the Toyota Corolla version of a laptop.

Sloppy spankos

Lordy you'll never guess what my caregiver discovered as she was vacuuming under the bed this afternoon: a cane. Granted it's a small one that was originally a proper one but was broken during shipping. She picked it up and showed it to me with a puzzled look on her face.

"Oh, yeah...that's something that broke," I said as she handed it to me, and I placed it on the bedside table. She didn't say anything. Just went back to vacuuming. I didn't say anything else either.

Thank god she didn't notice the riding crop on the floor underneath the baseboard heater. Or the longer cane against the wall next to the bedside table.

We really do need to keep our toys picked up better.

Yellow light

Yesterday the base of my spine started hurting exquisitely again. At first I figured it was the apparently unknown infection in my pelvis acting up again since I'm not on antibiotics at the moment. But the pain is slightly different than normal. It's just my right leg and it's more sciatica-like than it usually is. And the pain is particularly sharp right in the middle of my right buttock.

It's feeling a bit better today after I put some ice on it -- thank God! Especially as I was starting to worry I'd have to go to the emergency room and explain all the marks on my ass and listen to them be aghast that I'm getting spanked while on anticoagulants. Though I have to say the bruising really isn't all that bad. I've bruised a lot worse in pre-Coumadin days.

But it does leave me feeling rather concerned.

Resistance is futile...but fun

After doing nothing but thinking about spanking for the last two weeks, I finally felt up to getting a half-decent thrashing this afternoon.

It started innocently enough. I was laying on the bed taking a rest. Sleepy but not really sleeping. A. was out on the balcony smoking and also sleepy but not really sleeping. I tend to sleep diagonally but the more I snuggled on the bed, the more my backside came into better and better view of the balcony. Which, um, may have been somewhat on purpose.

Not that it worked immediately. I expected A. to smack my ass as is his Pavlovian response when greeted with a unhindered view of my backside. Instead when he came in from the balcony, he came around to the other side of the bed and sat down next to me. Ah, but then the Pavlovian reflex kicked in: he patted my ass. But before I knew it, he grabbed my shorts and gave me a wedgie.

I was a bit surprised. However, I've been toying lately with the idea of resisting a spanking and indeed tried it out a few days ago when we were both feeling frisky. It turned out to be fun and so I decided I'd take it to the next level today.

"You're mean!" I exclaimed with a scowl after my mock gasp. He responded by giving me an even stronger wedgie and several hard smacks. "Owww -- now you're even meaner!" Immediately my shorts were digging even further into the depths of my crack. This time I reached back and started pulling my shorts out and over my cheeks. It was A.'s turn to let out the mock gasp before pinning my arm down in the small of my back and letting loose a torrid of sharp smacks.

I was not deterred as I continued with my other hand to try and cover my bum. However, he had me pinned down at an awkward angle and the best resistance I could mount was in the form of trying to move my bottom out of the line of fire -- without much success I might add.

"Right, over my knee."

I glared at him and did nothing. Which, of course, resulted in another torrid of sharp smacks followed by a repeat of the earlier command. I glared again and tried to move my bottom but, alas, no luck. He repeated the command a third time and after glaring briefly, as well as assuming he was expecting me to simply lay over his lap from where I was positioned on the left side (meaning he'd be spanking with his left hand rather than his dominant right hand), I decided to take my chances with the left-handed spanking.

It wasn't too bad except that was just the warm up.

"Lay down on the bed," he said as he reached for the strap.

Again, we played the glaring game. I even pulled up my shorts. I considered telling him to "make me," but wasn't sure I was quite strong enough for a wrestling match. With a scowl and a huff I obeyed.

"This first part will be for hesitating when I told you to lay down." He pulled down my shorts. "Then we'll get to the real spanking."

Ugh. I suspect rolling my eyes and groaning didn't help matters at that point. And my oh my is he getting proficient with that strap. Especially right along my crack. Ow.

In fact, I was approaching the tears horizon when he suddenly stopped. Apparently there was a pimple on my bottom that started bleeding. God bless -- I mean, damn those blood thinners!

Not to worry, there are other implements available. He picked up the little cane, aimed it carefully and whipped me along the same spot over and over. At first it wasn't too bad, but the strokes -- and the pain -- accumulated quickly. I tried kicking and wriggling out of the line of fire, but that just seemed to make him annoyed as he went into the kitchen and fetched a wooden spoon.

"Fifteen on each cheek. Count them please."

Now, there are wooden spoons for the kitchen and there are wooden spoons for spanking and the first kind are not necessarily recommended for the latter. Three strokes into the spanking the spoon broke. I cracked up laughing, then whined about how that was my best mixing spoon. A. returned to the kitchen and fetched another, slotted one.

"We'll start from the beginning --"

"Hey! That's not fair!" I turned around to see A. shrug.

"As Newton pointed out, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Therefore your ass clearly broke the spoon. And whenever you break a spoon, the spanking starts over."

"Nuh uh! My ass didn't do anything, it --"

"Newton was a genius. No arguing with geniuses."

"Newton was also a fucking alchemist." I turned around to find A. shaking his head and putting his finger up to his lips motioning that I should be quiet. Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my pillow.

Five strokes in, the second spoon broke.

"Would you just use the damn spoon under the bed instead of ruining all my kitchen spoons?"

What the hell was I saying? That spoon is heavy and hurts like hell!

A. dug through my under-the-bed craft box that has also become our de facto toy box and took out the big heavy spoon.

"Okay, we'll start at five."

That was fair. And then it occurred to me that frequently during a spanking A. will comment on the appropriateness of an apology. Well, why not do it before he asks? And who knows? Maybe I'd get some mercy points...

"I'm sorry."

"Well, I should think so. "

He was at about ten or so when he stopped again because of that bleeding papule -- this time, blood was splattering slightly.

"I'm not sure about this," he said.

"Oh I so cannot be asked to make the decision about whether or not to continue during a spanking," I half joked.

"Oh you're still getting spanked, I just have to figure out the best way to go about this." He paused. "Maybe I'll give you a one-cheek spanking."

"Nooo!" That would just suck way too much. "Can't you just spank lower, or..." I stopped myself before saying on my thighs. Oh my gawd, shut up now!

He figured out how to spank around the bleeding spot and finished off the thirty strokes. Then it was cuddling time.

"You were so overdue there lady."

I was indeed. In fact, it's been a long time since I had that post-spanking glow that has now melted into bruises that I feel every time I sit down. Even that last one I got a month ago didn't mark me much.

A. also suggested during our cuddle that the thrashing I got would teach me not to be so bratty. Actually, I think it's just whetted my appetite. ;-)

No spanking? Isn't this the nineteenth century?

I've been curled up in bed watching Anne of Green Gables tonight. A.'s been paying attention off and on, despite finding out that there isn't any spanking in it. Though it's not for lack of Anne getting into trouble. At one point, Anne is caught reading Ben-Hur during class and told to stay after. She apologizes profusely to Miss Stacey and after saying "I won't touch Ben-Hur for a week as penance," A. laughed.

"It's like, what do I have to do to get a spanking? Isn't this the nineteenth century?"

We both agree Marilla would make a great strict aunt or nanny, though in the book she was rather uncomfortable with spanking. If only she could be converted to the spanko side...

I never read the book until after I watched the Kevin Sullivan movie on the Disney Channel when I was 18 or so. And I remember sort of gasping when I heard Anne say to the train station attendant that she preferred to sit outside because there was "more view for the imagination."

Oh my gosh, somebody else thinks like that? Followed a moment later with, Oh but you're not supposed to say stuff about views for the imagination and sleeping in cherry trees out loud!

What I've always loved about Anne was knowing that I wasn't the only one who lived in my imagination. Who catches the bus a few stops down where there's "more view for the imagination." Or is so often filled with awe at beauty. Or conjures up scenarios of great pathos and romance. Even created my own alter ego with her own wonderful, happier life. Anne was such a kindred spirit.

And yet, just like Anne, the older I got, the more I favored pragmatism over romance. I mean, the world so rarely measures up to my imagination. It's simply easier to be practical rather than be disappointed all the time.

In fact, at times I've even felt frustrated with Anne of Green Gables. How can this girl who was so abused for the first thirteen years of her life end up so unscathed once she moves to Prince Edward Island? Real life is not that tidy. Indeed, it certainly wasn't that tidy for L.M. Montgomery, the woman who wrote the Anne of Green Gables books and herself suffered through depression and an unhappy marriage.

But sometimes it's just nice to escape real life for a few hours on a Saturday night in bed. To live vicariously through Anne and imagine a life of bosom friends and kindred spirits and various predicaments while adorned in dresses with puffed sleeves on an island of stunning physical beauty.

Even if there isn't any spanking.

Brains and bottoms

My brain so wants my bottom to be spanked.

My brain wants to be bratty. Wants me to dress up in my pink dress and pigtails and throw a temper tantrum and be pulled over A.'s lap kicking and screaming and spanked until I'm sobbing.

Or maybe outfit myself in my school uniform, which now includes A.'s old school tie and patch (for real!). And show up late for class and without my lessons prepared so that A. bends me over the desk and canes me severely.

I just wish my bottom -- or rather my body -- would cooperate.

Do any of you ever get like that? Where the spirit is willing, but the flesh is, well, so very weak? Or maybe the other way around?

Back in business

As you can see, the center-aligned problem when viewing this blog through Internet Explorer has been fixed. Thanks to sparkle for steering me in the right direction as to its cause.

No spankings to report as I've been down with another round of infection that acted like a urinary tract infection but this time wasn't. Something appears to be infected down there, but God only knows what. And my GP and I sure wish He'd let us in on the secret.

I have been thinking about spanking, though. Well, at least starting a couple of days ago. Hopefully I'll start blogging about those thoughts soon.

Oh, and a big welcome to all of you visiting from Spanking Blog, where Dan was recently bemused by my being transfixed (briefly!) by lint during a caning. Yes, I admit it. I'm hopelessly neurotic when it comes to a tidy home (well, when I have the energy to be). To the point of getting in trouble.

Technical difficulties

I generally use Mozilla Firefox but today I've been using Internet Explorer only to find to my horror that this blog is center-aligned. Ugh! I'm afraid I'm too drugged up at the moment to figure out what's up (more UTI fun), but I apologize to all of you on IE.

Btw, how long has it been this way?

My inner pain slut is back

Yup.

The day before last A. was waving a moxa stick over some acupuncture points on my low back as instructed by my acupuncturist. Since it was hot, I was only wearing a white tank top and my red cotton panties with the white flowers on them. It's funny because while I own all kinds of thongs, velvet, satin, sheer and crotchless panties, this red cotton pair always makes me feel sexiest.

At any rate, after we finished with the moxa, A. flipped through the channels and settled in to watching First Blood on AMC. I was still laying on the bed in my tank top and red flowery knickers. As we watched John Rambo jump off a cliff and booby trap his way out of the woods past the sheriffs, A. began smacking my ass. At one point I started to move.

"I wouldn't get up if I were you." So ominous. So sexy.

I giggled a little and lay back down. A. tucked my panties in between my cheeks and continued smacking. The big knife and glistening pectorals got the testosterone pumping because during one of the commercials A. stated as he went out to smoke, "when I come back in, you're getting a Rambo spanking."

I thought he was kidding until he started piling up the pillows on the bed upon his return.

He started out with some good hand spanks to warm up. Then moved to the strap. After one cheek got a disproportionate number of smacks, he'd move to the other side of the bed and make sure the other cheek got its fair share. The whacks hurt, but didn't quite feel as overwhelming as before.

But it was during the caning that I realized my pain threshold had come back up. He was slicing away and at one point I realized there was something black on my clean, white sheet. For a moment I became totally transfixed by what turned out to be some sort of lint, oblivious to the fact that a stingy, whippy rattan cane was searing my ass.

Later I even asked him to try out the riding crop.

My blood vessels must be robust indeed as I barely have any bruising at all. Just a little on my right breast from the riding crop.

I kinda want to try out the hairbrush or the paddle next. But then again, not sure if I want those to be allowable again. ;)

Inspiring saints

I get daily readings from the Greek Orthodox archdiocese each day in my email inbox. It includes the epistle and gospel reading of the day, as well as the apolytikion and kontakion (types of hymns) for the saint whose feast day it is.

And -- lordy I'm going to hell -- frequently the biography of the saint so sets off the spanking fantasies for me.

Consider yesterday's - St. Marina:

This Martyr lived during the reign of Claudius II (268-270). She was from Pisidia of Cilicia and was the only daughter of a certain priest of the idols.

On being orphaned by her mother, she was handed over to a certain woman who instructed her in the Faith of Christ. When she was fifteen years old, she was apprehended by the ruler of Olmbrius, and when asked her name, homeland, and faith, she answered: "My name is Marina; I am the offspring of the Pisidia; I call upon the Name of my Lord Jesus Christ." Because of this she endured bonds, imprisonment, and many whippings, and was finally beheaded in the year 270.

You do kinda wonder if whoever put together the lives of the saints had a bit of a BDSM thing going.

Le vice Anglais

T. on the soc.sexuality.spanking newsgroup was playing around with the Google trends function, in which you can see who (i.e. what city) is doing the most searches for a certain topic -- in this case, it was "spanking."

Eight of the top ten were from the UK. Number eight was from Ireland and Number ten was Philadelphia.

They don't call it "Le vice Anglais" for nothing.

And when I typed that phrase into Google, this interesting social history of our kink was at the top of the list.

Though I really wish they would have referenced the bold printed terms. Or just avoided the whole bolding of terms altogether.

Natty's guide to spanking and blood thinners

So you've just found out you or your partner are going to be on blood thinners for awhile. Or even worse, if you're like me you're on them for life. Is it okay to be spanked when you're on blood thinners?

Anticoagulants are not a death sentence to your spanking life, but they do sorta put you on parole.

1. Take your INR into account. Obviously if it's high -- as in 3 or above -- spanking is probably not a good idea.
2. Age is a factor. The hematologist explained to me that the older one gets, the weaker one's blood vessels and the greater the chance for uncontrolled bleeding. As I'm in my early 30s, I'm a bit better off than someone in, say, their 60s.
3. Make sure you're getting plenty of Vitamin C as a lack of it will make your blood vessels more fragile (though be careful not to take too much as that can affect your INR).
4. What works for me may not work for you and what works for you may not work for me. I've been playing for several years before starting anticoagulants again so my backside has had some time to toughen up. On the other hand, seven years ago when I was on anticoagulants, I was bleeding and clotting in ways medical literature says I shouldn't have been. Bodies react differently at different times. If you've never been spanked before and are taking Coumadin, don't start out with a caning or a paddling because you saw that someone else managed it alright. Even if you have been getting spanked for years, it doesn't necessarily mean that a cane or a paddle will be okay. Every body is different. Don't expect yours to be the same as someone else's.
   
5. Remember that Warfarin interacts with at least 186 different foods, drugs, and herbs. Arnica, for instance, is a common herb spankos use that interacts with Warfarin. I don't know how much would be absorbed through the skin in a cream, but again, everybody reacts differently, and it can affect your spanking play. My INR, for instance, shoots through the roof just from drinking a cup of Tension Tamer Celestial Seasoning tea that has some herbs that are theoretically associated with anticoagulation -- licorice, cinnamon, chamomile, ginger. My anticoag nurse thought that there couldn't possibly be enough in a tea bag to make a difference, and unlike their Ginko Biloba tea, there is no warning on the box about drinking it while on anticoagulants, but apparently I'm that sensitive while others are not. A list of drugs and herbs that interact with Warfarin can be found here (another handy site can be found here). My point is that if you've had several glasses of wine, eaten a lot of garlic, red chili peppers, and pineapple, then took some Tylenol for your headache, a heavy spanking session could land you in the emergency room.
6. There is always some risk of uncontrolled bleeding. While it didn't happen because I was spanked, I have hemorrhaged in the past and it was NOT fun (it was in my knee joint and involved IV morphine every twenty minutes and three days in the hospital). The risk of uncontrolled bleeding in the buttocks is substantially less but still there on some level, though you're more likely to develop hematoma nodules (I have some on my belly right now from a month and half ago and while they're not dangerous, I can't imagine wanting to sit on them for a couple of months). Depending on how hard the spanking, and how much (I know a lot of spankos in long distance relationships have a tendency to play a LOT in a short period), you are traumatizing the body to some degree. The more trauma, the more chance of bleeding. Tops have a lot of responsibility in watching what's happening to the bottom they are spanking. Likewise spankees will have to alert their spanker if something out of the ordinary starts happening.

The "cover my ass" note: I'm not a medical doctor and this post should not be construed as medical advice. It's a fricking spanking blog for gawd's sake!

At any rate, here's to many safe and happy spanking!

(This post was inspired and reviewed by Doc Tsai, who has a great spanking site of his own.)

And the window slams shut again

Spending the last three days in bed has reminded me of the following equation:

"Great, rough fucking" + CFIDS/ME = Days of feeling like icky, icky shit

Don't even want to think about sex right now. Not even all that keen about getting spanked either. Though cuddles kick ass.

Guess maybe I need to listen to my nurse more when she talks about me being fragile.

Actually, her comment hit a particularly raw nerve for me. While I'm glad that being on anticoagulants is not affecting my spanking life as much as I had feared, it's still been hard for me to accept that I'm going to have to take this medication for the rest of my life. It is literally rat poison. While the potential for bleeding isn't necessarily as bad as everyone makes out, it's still there and potentially dangerous. Warfarin interacts with 186 different medicines/foods/herbs so that I'm always having to think about what I'm eating, or be very careful about any new medications, herbal supplements, Celestial Seasonings teas, etc. I have to get my blood checked frequently (once a week right now, and then once a month once I'm stabilized -- which, at the rate I'm going, God only knows how long that will take) so that they can titrate the drug appropriately. I'm supposed to wear an ID bracelet stating that I take this medicine so that if I ever, say, got hit by a truck, the paramedics won't start cutting into me. And it makes my complicated health situation REALLY complicated now, especially in regards to treatment. Knowing that it's going to be like this for the rest of my life (and I'm only 33!) is still a bit hard to swallow.

Being so sick over the last several years has meant that I've been made to be painfully aware of how fragile I am. Spanking has been that one thing where, at least when I'm not too sick, I can forget about it for awhile. Indeed, sometimes I look at spanking as an act of defiance, a sort of "fuck you!" to pain and illness. And, of course, there has always been the hope that one day I will be better and not be fragile anymore. Yet now I'm going to be fragile (at least on some level) always.

Ultimately, though, I have to honor that part of me that is fragile. Too often I'm too focused on trying to forget about it rather than integrating it into who I am. It made me wonder about my post last year about spanking and being whole. In a way it's like I've brought spanking to the painful parts of my life, but I haven't really brought the painful parts of my life to spanking. I suppose this is simply a variation on my "letting Natty get spanked" thoughts. It's hard to bring my vulnerable, fragile side to spanking. Frankly, when I'm not ignoring that part of me, I just want to lavish it with lots of cuddles. But is there a place for that fragile part of me within my spanking life?

Hmm...think I'm just sort of rambling tonight.

At any rate, I will say that I love my anticoagulation nurse. She's that perfect mixture of sweet but bossy. On the one hand, she'll teasingly scold me when my hands are too cold or feign sternness when she asks if I'm going to be good today and give her a therapeutic INR. And she always gives me a hug when I leave. Not sure that I really have any spanking fantasies about her, but she does have a lot of those qualities I imagine in a good nanny.

That window opened quickly

So, after posting my post last night, I closed down my laptop, brushed my teeth -- you know, all that stuff you do before going to bed. A. was out on the balcony -- aka his office during the summer -- where he was busy doing football research on his laptop

"I'm going to bed," I said through the screen door. I sorta hung there for a minute watching him.

"You want me to tuck you in?"

"Okay," with unusual meekness. I turned out the light and laid down on the bed. It was warm, so I didn't get under the covers.

"Look at you there." He slapped my bottom as he came over to the bed. "You so want a spanking."

"Nuh uh." Which is, of course, code for "damn right."

Now, I hadn't laid down in bed expecting to get spanked, though as I laid there I was thinking that it might be nice. I was feeling a little bit better than I had earlier in the day. Yet I wasn't sure if physically I was up to it. As soon as A. smacked my ass, I knew I was.

"Let's get these down." He tugged at my lavender jammie bottoms with the sheep, then at my white cotton panties. After giving me a few light smacks, he sat down in the middle of the bed. "I think you need to get over my lap."

And I did.

And I got a good hard spanking. With lots of cuddles and kisses. He'd stroke my hair and then rain down stinging smacks on my sit spot, even going so far as lifting each cheek (yeah my buns are hardly made of steel) and spanking my sensitive skin. It hurt. A lot. And believe it or not, my bedtime pain meds (hydrocodone and oxycodone, among them) had already kicked in. Yikes!

But it was the perfect bedtime spanking. Made me sleep well and wake up feeling good the next day (well, that and some Chinese medicine).

One of the things I got spanked for last week was forgetting to get some condoms at my clinic when I went to get my blood checked. So you can bet I remembered to get some today. Hey, they're free and plentiful. Very plentiful. My nurse got a whole bag of them for me while she was waiting for the doctor to decide what my Coumadin dose should be since my INR was low yet again.

And, you know, they came in handy after my spanking tonight. A. made me dress in my red satin bra and panties covered with a white slip, which he lifted to deliver several solid smacks with the strap between my legs. Then turned me over and landed the strap on my backside. After that it was time for, well, using those condoms.

It was great, rough fucking. Which is just what I needed after getting my blood checked today. My nurse was asking if I'd had any new symptoms and I mentioned that my heart had been doing some weird, fluttering stuff along with an increase in the palpitations I frequently have. There had also been a couple of episodes of mild pain/pressure that went away after a few minutes.

"And you didn't go to the emergency room because...?" K. looked at me sternly.

"Cause it went away after a few minutes," I shrugged.

"Right." She felt my hand and sent me to run it under warm water again to heat it up so she could get plenty of blood from my finger. Later after making my appointment for next week she made me promise if that I had those heart symptoms again I would go to the emergency room. "You're just...I know you're not going to like this word, but, well you're fragile."

Sigh.

Among the many things I love about A. is that he doesn't treat me like I'm going to break. Well, not usually. Granted this last month has been a bit tricky. And tonight he was concerned about having sex since the last time we tried it I had a weird blood pressure fluctuation. But it turned out great. Sure, our buggery plan didn't quite work out. Yet when all else fails, the missionary position gets the job done.

And after the lovemaking, I had to be punished for my sluttiness.

"Go fetch the cane." It was hanging in the bathroom to keep it supple. He whacked my breasts then nodded toward the quilt. "On the bed." I climbed up on all fours, my left arm quivering a bit from the previous workout a few minutes earlier on my back. And my evil lover landed several wicked slices with that cane, particularly on my right cheek. When I looked in the mirror, I had four bright red weals on that right cheek.

Yep. Love it when those windows open back up again.