The phone calls of doom

There was some discussion of my last post on the soc.sexuality.spanking newsgoup (I generally try to cross-post there for friends who can't make it to the blogosphere) and at one point during the ensuing thread, I mentioned that, aside from the ick factor of discussing my sexuality with her, I would never want to tell my mom about my disciplinary arrangement with A. because she (and my grandma) would totally be trying to get me spanked.

Not only can I point to the linked post above as proof, but I would also cite the first Christmas A. was here. I was taking pictures of my super-adorable nieces and nephew during Christmas dinner and, apparently, holding up the flow of food around the table. My mom complained, prompting A. to grab my camera and set it to the other side of him, making it impossible for me to reach. Both my mom and grandma clapped their hands together and giggled with glee. It made my skin crawl.

At any rate, one poster as S.S.S suggested that there could be fodder for fantasy there.

If it wasn't your mom, if it was someone else, how would the fantasy play out? I mean, the idea of knowing that when you met your boyfriend, he might have received a note or phone call suggesting that you definitely needed to be soundly chastised? Would it be a man or a woman who'd have the authority to make that request? And what would be the terms?

Once the heebie-jeebies at the idea of my mom wore off, and I could think about it a bit more clearly, a few candidates did come to mind: my former caregiver, or perhaps Nurse K. Indeed, I could imagine Nurse K. calling A. to tell him that I hadn't had enough of my leafy greens so my INR was elevated this week. (If you need an explanation of what an INR is, see this post and/or this post. And, of course, if my INR was high, A. would have to be extra carefully about bruising me...but hey, to hell with pesky real-life details, on with the fantasy!)

Once off the phone, he'd probably order me to stand in the corner while he fetched the straight-backed chair and the clothesbrush. After several minutes, A. would call me to him, look me in the eyes and tell me that my nurse has told him that perhaps some disciplinary assistance from him would make certain that I eat my leafy greens like I'm supposed to. That keeping my INR at a consistent level is important for my own safety (which is true: the higher my INR, the higher my risk of bleeding to death).

Then he might ask me if I had done my physical therapy exercises. I'd bite my lower lip and slowly shake my head. "Yes, I know you haven't. Earlier I got a call from your physical therapist," he'd say with his deep, stern, British-accented voice. I would gulp as he'd tell me how she too thought I'd benefit from the business end of a hairbrush. I'd try to think of an excuse for why I hadn't done them, but before I could think of anything remotely adequate, I'd be ordered over his knee.

And, well, we know what would happen there. Lots of hard, wooden splats and me kicking and squirming and promising to eat my greens and do my PT.

I might just be sent to the corner again, with my panties around my knees and red blotchy bottom on display. You know, to think about what I'd done -- or rather, hadn't done.

He might even set me some lines to write. Fifty about how I will eat my greens regularly and fifty about doing my exercises. And I would have to take them to my next appointments with my nurse and physical therapist to show them that I'd been adequately chastised. Perhaps they would have to sign them, so I could verify that I had indeed demonstrated that they had seen, if only in part, my punishment.

oo0oo

Interestingly enough, I can only imagine women doing the tattling. Trying to imagine my GP -- a man -- totally doesn't work for me. Go figure.

Also I actually like eating my greens (if properly prepared) so the only time there's a problem, it's because I'm physically incapable of eating them (indeed, sometimes I eat too many -- it's a very fine balancing act). Though there have been times I've just forgotten to eat them, especially as my meals aren't planned out (hell, I have a hard enough time just trying to remember to take this one medicine a half-an-hour before I eat -- not to mention keeping all the other 20+ drugs straight!).

However, I have been spanked once already for not remembering to do my physical therapy exercises, which strengthen my hip flexor and trans-abdominal muscles and take about five minutes while laying in bed, along with playing around with some "theraputty" in my hand for a few minutes to strengthen that finger I broke back in November.

Speaking of which, I better get this posted and get my exercises done before bed. ::grin::

The spanko tutor is in

In the last two days I have found myself in the position of tutoring someone on the topic of S/M and spanking.

The first tutorial was brief and, er...uncomfortable as my tutee was my mother. See I've strongly suspected that part of the reason her current (fourth) marriage is not working out is that her husband may actually be submissively oriented, as is she.

Now why would I even know enough to deign passing judgment on my mother's sexual life? Well, because I get to hear about it in intimate detail.

Yes, I know. EWWWWW!!!!

My mother cannot grasp the concept that children do not want to think of their parents as sexual beings and has always shared freely with me about her sexuality. Not to mention, has always felt it her duty to share sexual information with us. I'm still traumatized by our discussion regarding blowjobs. I was in the car. Nauseous. Begging her to please...stop...talking...

I've gotten more comfortable over the years (not totally comfortable but, you know, I don't completely want to vomit) as she and I have been much more like sisters than parent-child anyway (hence my hunger for some sort of parental figure). So yesterday as she was driving me to Trader Joe's and talking about her husband, I finally just blurted out, "why doesn't he just go to a dominatrix already!"

"What's a dominatrix?"

Was she serious?

"You know, a woman a guy pays to have order him around and often, you know, whip him and what not...you know, S/M and what not," I tried to explain.

"What's S/M?"

My jaw dropped. For a woman who has always seemed to be this fount of sexual information, I was shocked.

"You know dominance and submission. Where one person's sorta in charge in the bedroom...In fact, I've often thought that you, with your obsession about having a husband who is the head of the household and takes care of you, would totally be into domestic discipline..."

"What's that?"

I took a deep breath. Then shook my head.

"I should probably talk about this later and do my shopping," I said grabbing the car door handle. "You can look it up on the Internet."

"Good idea."

The Loving Domestic Discipline page probably had a few hits from Clackamas, Oregon last night.

I've actually been toying with talking to my mom about the whole DD thing for awhile. Yet aside from the ick factor, there's also the concern that if she did totally get into the whole thing, I'd never be able to go to a spanking event in Portland again without my mom being there (yes, she's little Miss Outgoing).

Then again, it could solve my transportation problems getting to and from said events. Just kidding! The gross-out factor would always, always override my mobility problems.

Still, I often wonder if she'd finally find happiness if she did start looking into DD. But I'm not sure I feel comfortable talking anymore with her about it. That's what Google is for, right?

oo0oo

The second conversation was this afternoon with my godfather. That was less uncomfortable as my godfather is my gay best friend (if we lived closer and I didn't have a boyfriend, I'd totally be his hag) and very familiar with deviant forms of sexuality. It was the logistics of how it worked that he was a bit mystified about, especially when I explained that often it is the act of being spanked (or playing pony, which was what started our conversation) that provides sexual gratification, not necessarily penetration. Indeed, penetration may not even come into it at all. When I was first coming out, I got spanked by many guys but it never involved sex.

"So, what does the top get out of it?" he asked.

"A lot of it is about sadism. About being able to hurt someone and getting pleasure out of that as well as pleasing the person you're hurting. And controlling how the scene is going to play out once you've negotiated the ground rules." As a newly practicing switch, I actually had an answer to that question which as a bottom I'd always sort of wondered about myself.

"I have to say, it's all about penetration for me," he stated. "...I wouldn't really know what to do in that context."

"Well, while I do think there is a lot about our sexuality that can be learned, I also think a lot of it is inbred. A form of sexual orientation, if you will."

"Interesting."

After that we talked about how wrong a certain professor of ours was when he used to go on about how the Internet was going to create political revolutions throughout the Arab World when, in fact, the revolution really has been in sexuality. I don't see the monarchy changing in Saudi Arabia anytime soon, but dating certainly has (i.e. it actually happens) thanks to instant messaging.

I'm sure that you, dear reader, can relate to that last point. Google has almost single-handedly changed our lives and blogs like this help both writers like me and readers like you know that we're not alone.

oo0oo

At any rate, those have been my spanking tutorials over the last two days. The weird and the interesting. The disturbing and the thoughtful.

If I'm not careful, I'm going end up teaching community college courses on spanking and D/s. Then again, I do miss teaching, so that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Just as long as my mom doesn't enroll.

My pervy family

Like most other families, mine had turkey and pumpkin pie today. But along with these Thanksgiving staples, there was an underlying spanking theme throughout the afternoon.

-- A friend of my mom and my grandma's husband sat trading stories of how they were spanked as kids. The former told the "go cut a switch" story, but with the twist that when he'd come back with a small one, his dad would simply say, "no problem, I've got a back-up" and haul out a huge switch from the closet. Or when he and his siblings got into trouble once, his father lined them up oldest to youngest to spank each of them. "You'd think he'd have gotten tired by the time he got to me and my brother, but instead he was just more pissed off."

-- My six-year old nephew, brother of the spanko nieces I've referred to a few times, pleaded with the above mentioned friend of my mom to be spanked after being tickled. His mother, my sister, sat next to me blushing. "I don't know what it is with my kids always wanting to be spanked."

-- As that sister and I sat perusing the sales papers, I commented that this one piece of exercise equipment looked like some sort of S & M furniture. She laughed and then goes, "how would you know?" I grinned, as she's the one in my family familiar with my proclivities. "Oh, and like you don't know!" her boyfriend exclaimed.

-- Then there's my brother. He's a twenty-year old cutie with Down's Syndrome who seems to have also inherited the BDSM gene. My other sister once caught him tying up all of his stuffed animals when he was younger. Today he found himself bent over the couch at one point, which invited my mother to playfully kick him in the behind. He feigned distress, but when my mom stopped, he went, "again! again!" Later he comes over to me while I'm watching television, bends right over, and in case I haven't figured out what he wants me to do, says "spank me 'Chell."

Yep. Never know whether to be horrified or amused by my pervy family. But certainly there's no doubt where I get my spanko-ness from.

Grandmas can be dangerous

Lordy my grandma is trying to get me in trouble.

I've been slowly feeling better the last few weeks. Last week I was feeling really good after I paid a visit to my acupuncturist/massage therapist/Magic Lady (as A. calls her). I walked five blocks home from the bus stop. Did a load of laundry all by myself (haven't done that since April!). Even made a pumpkin pie. My grandma called me up thrilled to hear I was feeling better and has decided to help pay for me to see the Magic Lady every week.

Of course, she also expressed concern that I not over do it too much. I told her not to worry. I was being careful to do a little bit, then sit and rest for a bit, then do a little bit more, then rest a bit more. "Besides," I explain. "A. has already warned me about over doing it and accompanied that with a look so stern it made it all the way across the Atlantic and the continent to Oregon."

She giggled at that.

So, an hour or so ago she calls me up to discuss arrangments for her to pay for the Magic Lady and when she asks me how I'm feeling, I yawn and say something about being a bit tired as I didn't get enough sleep last week.

"Now, didn't you get a very stern look warning you not to over do it? Hmm?"

I hastily explained that it wasn't because I willfully over did it, just that my brain finally turned on, and I couldn't get it to turn off when I would try and go to sleep.

But in my mind I'm thinking, "geesh, woman, you're going to get me thrashed within an inch of my life!"

Spankos-in-training

I've blogged a few times about my nieces, who appear to be spankos-in-training. Such as here, or here.

So, tonight one of my sisters and I took the oldest two out for their birthday. After watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (was a bit nervous, but I actually quite liked it) and eating pizza at Eatza Pizza (nasty pizza, but nice employees), my sister and I dropped them off at home. I went to give the oldest a hug and as she bent down to hug me, I gave her 11 soft smacks. The next oldest comes running over. "Give me my birthday spanking 'Chell!" And, well, I gave her a hug and 9 soft spanks. Their mother's boyfriend says that he hasn't given them their birthday spankings yet, to which the 9-year-old responds by running over to him and throwing herself over his lap, causing him to wince and complain about his hurt knee. And promise that he's going to give them their birthday spanking at their pool party in a couple of weeks.

Yep. That'll probably be their favorite part.

More Auntie Natty tales

My five-year-old nephew stayed over last night.

I'd either forgotten about stuff from my boyfriend's earlier stay or figured it was out of the way enough that it wouldn't matter.

Well, both my memory and my judgment were a bit lacking.

My nephew had just been to a birthday party before and had a bag of goodies. Lots of small toys and candy. Like a bouncy ball. And little dinosaurs. And Sweetharts candies.

Which, of course, fell under the bed on several occasions (I live in a studio apartment) causing him to fish around looking for them.

And what should his pudgy little hands grab hold of under the bed?

Why, a line of wrapped condoms, a riding crop, and the bath brush.

"What are these 'Chell?" he asked, holding up the condoms. I thought for a second to think of something to say that would not make him even more curious.

"Um...they're...uh...like a kind of medicine."

He promptly threw those back under the bed.

He didn't ask about the riding crop, but clearly didn't understand its intended use as he kept using it to poke me. Though frankly, most of the time I wish that was all my boyfriend used it for... ;)

Then he pulled out the bath brush.

He knew EXACTLY what that was for.

"Hey! You getting a spankin' 'Chell. Stand up." And no, while I was a bit embarrassed, I did not let my nephew spank me. Just gave him a rather annoyed look. So then he tried to tickle me with the bristles.

"Yep," my boyfriend said when I told him about it on the phone this afternoon. "That's what happens to boys with too many sisters (my nephew has four - two older and twins 15 months younger; my boyfriend has five -- all older). They end up being tops so that they can finally beat on someone."

Out...

Well, I'm so out to my sister and brother-in-law.

As promised, babysitting for my sister left me with plenty of spanko anecdotes to share. That same niece who talked about getting spanked when she was born spent all night telling me about when she got spanked by her other aunt when over at her cousin's. I can't remember what I was doing (it was sometime around the point where we were making gingerbread men) when she said "don't do that unless you want my dad to spank you." With a giggle. Now, for a second, of course, I sorta giggled to myself as I thought that might be kinda fun. "So your dad spanks the babysitters?" I asked. She giggled again. "Yup." I know that's not true as my brother-in-law is fairly obsessive about acting appropriately. And I know my niece knows I know that's not true. Especially with that mischievous grin and giggle. So, very gently I say, "you sure like to talk about spanking a lot." Another giggle. "Yup." Then her eyes narrow, though still with that grin. "But no one is ever gonna spank me again!"

Yeah, give her a few more years and she'll have her own spanking blog just like her Auntie. Though, I suspect at the rate she's going, she's gonna be a top.

Not that her spanking penchant is all that comfortable for me. When she and her older sister were a few years younger, I once playfully swatted her. She suddenly exclaimed, "oh spank me, spank me, 'Chell!" To which her older sister cut in front of her and laid herself over my lap. "No, spank me!" I sat there frozen. I wasn't sure how to respond. I mean, when they get older and find out I have a spanking kink, are they going to think their aunt sexually assaulted them? My sister sitting on the couch said dryly, "yeah, for some reason they really like getting spanked. We're thinking about getting them whips and handcuffs for Christmas."

At any rate, when my brother-in-law got home Saturday night, we were waiting for my sister to get back so he could take me home. Maybe it was the wine he poured for me while we waited. Maybe I'm just feeling more comfortable with my kink. But as he talked about how his sister has this rubber ruler-like implement that she uses to spank her kids called The Instrument (as disturbing as I find it that she uses this on her kids) that he and his brother were playing around with once and left welts on their arms, I chime up, "mmm...maybe my boyfriend and I should get one of those." He jokingly replies, "oh I think they have it at Spartacus'"(the sex shop that specializes in fetish gear down the street from me here in Portland). To which I come back with, "oh I've looked there. They don't have it." So he tells me about some riding crops he was using to decorate an apartment at one point. So I tell him about the riding crop I got Spartacus' that doesn't really hurt that much while the one my boyfriend got at the charity shop in England hurts like hell. By the time I get to "the one my boyfriend got..." he is looking at me wide-eyed. "Oh my god, you're totally in to S&M." My sister had returned home by this point and was in the bedroom. He stumbles into the bedroom going, "Michelle's totally into S&M." My sister simply says that her hand, which she had burned earlier that evening, hurt. "I'm telling you that Michelle's into S&M and all you can say is that your hand hurts??!"

Before I know it, I'll be giving him the url for this blog.

Off to babysit...

...and when I called my sister really quick before she comes to pick me up, my 8 year old niece gets on the phone and informs me that she had been thinking about when she was born. "The doctor has to spank you or you won't breathe and you'll die." My sister's kids are already incorrigible spankos at such tender ages. I'll share more anecdotes about that when I have more time. At any rate, I reply, "ah so the doctor has to spank you huh?" "Yep. But now I'm going to find him and spank HIM!"

I'm sure Auntie Natty will have more spanking vignettes from my nieces and nephew to share when I get back, as uncomfortable as the whole thing makes me...

In the meantime, I highly recommend a story that was recently posted at the soc.sexuality.spanking newsgroup about a spanko stuck in a nursing home who reminded me of my great-grandmother. Very cute. :)

Hmm...gosh I have such a warped family...