Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Confessions of a Shopaholic

Bless me readers, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last post.

So much has happened since my last post, and I'm having trouble putting everything into words. As my relationship with the Englishman intensifies, I find myself less willing to share the intimate details that I share with him. However, there is still so much to learn, about myself, about spanking...and so much of it is also discovered reading my dear blogs as well as writing.

Last Tuesday we went cane shopping. You would think that combining two of my favorite things to do, spanking and shopping, would result in a perfect day. While much of it was fun, I found us batting an awkward energy between the two of us, making it difficult to sink in and enjoy the day.

It first started when he arrived late. I can't tell you what a pet peeve it is for me when this happens. I should have been able to let it go, but my own morning was rough, as was his. I should have gotten up to give him a hug when he entered, but the tables around us had filled up, making it extremely awkward. I absolutely hated that I was sulking about instead of enjoying his rare company. We moved on to the local bondage shop where things improved... for a reason!

It was the same shop I had been to when I picked up our first cane. While I liked that cane, it tends to leave large bruises on me instead of those lovely track lines I so desire. In we went and found the small collection of canes in an umbrella basket upstairs. The selection was slim. A sales person asked us if we needed help. We told them what we were looking for and they went to their backroom to see if they had any backstock. It turns out, they make many of their canes on site! Luckily for us, they came back with two large boxes of canes for us to hand pick. After picking out a few different canes, I felt his gifted hands graze my bottom. I stole a kiss and it ony aggravated my wish to be transported into a private space where I could sit in his arms and be reasurred that everything was indeed ok. The sales person had given us some space and soon I was bent over the counter testing out canes. Mmmm...

We ended up settling on a short, straight bamboo cane, about 1/4" thick. While it was stingy, it definitely felt more flimsy than that 3/8" rattan cane I was used to. I wrapped it in the not-so-discreet black bag and stuck it in my purse. I was feeing much better, but things were still not the same between the two of us.

We grabbed lunch next door. It certainly wasn't our best banter and in fact resulted in a few misunderstandings on both sides, hurt feelings over assumptions and both of us losing our appetites. We left leaving our poor waitress wondering if the chef failed in some way. The sun felt good on my skin and I linked my arm into his as he walked me to my car. We made some small talk and if you didn't know better you would have thought we were on a disasterous first date, with no hopes for a second. Major efforts were made on both our parts, especially when we held each other for a final kiss. What is going on? Where were the fireworks I was used to? I leaned into his arms further, hoping to force the issue, but it was useless. I knew that he knew that this day had gone south.

I'm a huge tennis fan, and I can only equate the energy to be the same as the men's semi-finals match at Roland Garros this past weekend. Djokovich won his match against Federer by making fewer mistakes, but both players were having off days. While they had their moments, neither one of them ever hit their stride, resulting in a game almost too painful to watch. By the time I got home, I found an email waiting for me in my inbox. It was pleasant enough, but was signed, "Talk soon" instead of his usual, affectionate signature. Ouch. That sting hurt much more than any bamboo cane could ever deliver.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Missing Person's Report

It's been five days since my last spanking and I think I'm starting to forget what the Englishman looks like.

Perhaps it's the constant reliving of romanticized versions of our experience or the fantasies that swirl inside my head as my mind drifts off, but without being connected to him in any sort of real way I find the real him fading. I only see him for 3.5 hours a week, and half of that time is staring at his leather shoes. I haven't heard from him since Saturday, but even that seems like an eternity. Since when has not hearing back from a boy completely reduced me to a school girl waiting by the phone? I sit here and molest my refresh button hoping for new email, hating myself for becoming so crazy about one person. My routine consists of refreshing my browser a couple times, telling myself this is stupid and if I just waited a day to bother checking I wouldn't become so obsessed and then abruptly closing out my window only to do it all over again in 10 minutes. It makes it no better to be so connected via smart phone... oh, I think I'll check before I head into the grocery store... might as well check when I get back! Ugh... I've become a slave and I need to be freed.

My natural urge is to find another plaything, keep my body and mind busy. The urge is especially strong over the weekend when I receive the least amount of attention from him, and when I need it the most. I resist those urges as I know that will be the sure nail that drives him away... I'm certain he can forgive and overlook many of my flaws, but seeing the marks of another man on my bottom won't earn me the spanking I crave, only the maddening silence of an empty inbox.

I know that I'll have to hear from him today, as we're planning on going cane shopping tomorrow. Plans must be made, and I refuse to inquire about them before I hear back from him first. Until then, I will keep my mind as busy as I can, wondering what does a girl wear cane shopping? I assume there will be a degree of public product testing... I'm leaning towards jeans of some sort, as cane-on-skin contact seems... unhygenic, to say the least.