Blind Results

Oh my... exactly how long has it been since I've blogged? I'm not going to even count, but I welcome you, dear reader, to give me the mental spanking/caning I deserve... I will feel it through my firewall, and perhaps, if this naughty girl has learned anything, I won't make that mistake again.

It occured to me that I left things a little ambiguous and the reason behind my hiatus could have been mistakenly assumed to have been because of some sort of fall out. While that would have caused a serious lack of communicaiton on my part as I ball myself into fetal position, that wasn't the case this time. In fact, it seems that these off days bring us a little closer, in their own way.

Neither one of us were happy with how the day turned out. Through the guarded safety of email, we were able to communicate where some of our pitfalls occurred. He reminded me that nothing truly bad had happened, but still, we both had left dazed and confused as to how such a wonderful day could have turned so sour. We hadn't heard from our usual hostess, and so he suggested we cool off during the weekend. I thought that would be complete torture and insisted we meet, a decision I don't regret for a single moment.

As soon as I saw him, I gave him the big hug I've been wanting to give since all of this went down, and it was definitely reciprocated. We stood there, in each others embrace, recentering the energy that had been toppled a few days prior. We moved to the sofa and I sat in his familiar lap, my head buried in his shoulder with his arms around me. He told me that the only serious thing that he'd mention was that I am to immediately tell him when something bothers me instead of letting it fester. I ask the same of him and we move. the. fuck. on. Sometimes the best way to resolve an issue is by simply moving past it. I think we could have talked this thing to death, but really, we both just had a bad day. We were together now, and we came to play, and so play we did. And it was delicious.

There is so much beauty in the short time we have together every week. From the quiet whispers to the loving spankings to the wandering hands left to themselves to explore the wonders our bodies have to offer. However, with the addition of our new toy I can add to the growing list the absolute, stunning and stinging beauty of the cane marks it leaves behind. After my caning he gently stood me up and held me close. He can't help but to trace the welts. I reach behind myself and place my hand over his and together we read the love story that is written across my bottom.

Scarlet Lines

I'm not a bad girl, but I play one in the bedroom.

But sometimes, I am.

I have this very bad habit of being a flirty drunk. Now, I'm a huge proponent of personal responsibility, so I never blame the drink. The decisions I make under the influence are ones I would make while sober... I just have a little (or a lot) of extra nudging.

So while on vacation I kissed a boy. It is not in my nature to make out with boys at bars, but he was absolutely adorable. He was tall, cute and you guessed it, donned a pair of spectacles. It's inexplicable, but I am a sucker for a man in glasses. I alluded to some foul play in my correspondence with the Englishman, but was not specific. During our play he was able to get it out of me...it didn't take much of an interrogation. The burden of the truth was lifted off of my shoulders, but I would soon rediscover it on my bottom.

"How many strokes do you think you deserve?", he asked.

"He was 25 years old, so 25 strokes," I replied.

"Very Well." His tone was firm.

I draped myself over the spanking horse, waiting to be cleansed of my sins.

"Such big infractions deserve the big cane."

I sprung up and my eyes widened. He noticed.

"These won't be love taps," he warned.

In a panic I quipped, "Actually, I think he was closer to 16."

"27." Period.

I'm looking at him in the mirror, looking at me. He gently takes his hand and places it on the small of my back. He slowly moves it up my back and as he gets to the nape of my neck I take his cue lower the upper half of my body. It's time to accept what is coming to me.

The strokes were quick and there were no loving pauses for me to catch my breath, only the briefest of moments when I managed to whisper the count. I couldn't determine which was worse, the fiery lines I felt on the surface or the thuddy pain buried deep in my bottom. Of course, none was worse than knowing how shamelessly I acted that night...and how embarrassed he would have been had he been there to witness such behavior.

A weekly caning has given my bottom an invisible callous. I stopped using arnica long ago, seeing how if any marks were left, they usually disappeared by the morning. By the time I got home the marks were faint and it looked like I would wake up this morning to a clean slate of a bottom. I was wrong. Like a scarlet letter, I wear a badge of shame. I differ from Hester Prynne as I wear mine hidden in secrecy, underneath my clothes and it will fade as I forgive myself as he has forgiven me.

Keeping it Fresh: Kinky Photography

It's my last full day at the beach and all I can think about is how it has been much too long since I've been spanked. Since I've started seeing the Englishman on a regular basis, the almost two weeks that will pass before I see him again marks the longest time frame that we've gone without seeing each other. In the beginning of the relationship, the day after a spanking was particularly painful. Now, after three months I'm noticing that our emails have slowed down to a daily basis, with days skipped here and there. I'm enjoying the comforts of what a more intimate relationship has to offer, but I do miss the passion and excitement that comes with the new.

I really don't want the comfort level to reach that stage where it's now ok to pass gas, or suddenly we're on our phones during lunch. How do I keep things fresh? He's not complaining by any means, but I want to keep him on his toes. I want to stay shiny and new.

When he was away, I sent him lots of self-portraits... none of them spectacular or very creative since I am limited to timers and mirrors. I'm thinking of having some boudoir photos taken. The only issue is that I'd like to surprise him with them, but my gut tells me I should ask permission to bare my bottom to another man, no matter how platonic the shoot may be.

Advice, readers? What's a girl to do? Have you had professional photographs taken? What was it like?

Beach Bum/defining submission and other existential thoughts

I'm happy to escape the humidity that the weather brought us this last week. The idea of having to drink the atmosphere is foreign to those of us who are native to the area. The wet air clung on until it could release itself in the form of a rare summer rain. A week away from the city is most welcomed and the beach brings a quiet peace to my usual manic mind.

Last night I was left alone with my thoughts as I sat in the hot tub listening to the waves crashing onto the shore. It always strikes me how beautiful the night sky is when I'm away from the lights of the city. With a glass of wine in my hand I stared for what must have been an hour at the stars that painted the canvas above me. I find such delight in humbling myself... just thinking those stars will continue to shine on after I'm long gone, as they have for centuries. How many lives have seen that same star?...generations upon generation, and yet I sat last night with a true appreciation for its existence for a fraction of a moment of its life.

This all, of course, led me to thoughts of how humbled I am every time I kneel for my Sir. I was recently asked by a reader (wink) to define my submission and had a difficult time doing so. While varying degrees of each paint my life like shadows and highlights, my regular life is not led with an overwhelming desire to either dominate or to submit. Our particular dynamic doesn't bleed into our time together outside of play- though I once noticed my bottom twitching when he ordered for me at a restaurant.

A part of my submission I find myself wanting to change is how insecure I'm constantly feeling. I'm not sure what about the relationship commands that...I suspect much of it comes with just how much it has given me - not just physical pleasure, but it has validated a large part of who I am that has been missing for so many years - and how quickly it could all be taken away. This insecurity makes me feel so needy and in a sense, weak...a feeling so different from the strength I get after our sessions. On those days I stomp around town with the unmistakable stench of confidence as it pulses through my body after being caned, and yet, that power diminishes the more time that passes from when I hear back from him. Perhaps my submissive side is some sort of masturbatory nod to this existential unworthiness that I find so comforting.

So how do you define your submission? I'm guessing the domestic-discipline crowd will have a different take on it from those that are strictly bound-and-gagged, but maybe I'll be surprised...

Yard(stick) Sale

My dear Sir has been "off the grid" for the last week and I'm eagerly waiting his return. I've been sending him daily pictures so that he'll have a fragrant "Welcome Home" bouquet of emails waiting for him. It is the beginning of a very busy summer and our regular weekly rendezvous will have to become more malleable, allowing us to exercise our creativity as last minute meetings will provide their own set of challenges.

So what does a spanko do when she has no hand to spank her? Go shopping.

Retail therapy has always been an effective outlet for me. Luckily for me my friendly neighborhood bondage store was having a rummage sale this weekend. I arrived early on the second day of the sale, and unfortunately it seems as though the sale had been pretty well picked through. None of the canes, whips or paddles were left, though there seemed to be plenty of strap ons and other things a newbie like me could not possibly recognize. I was hoping to get my hands on a corset as I've often fondled the leather they house at their regular retail location. Unfortunately the only one in my size had missing parts, but was marked down to $95 from an outstanding $650. Yikes! It was beautifully constructed, but perhaps it was the last one standing for a reason.

There was nothing in the rummage sale for me, so I walked next door to their retail store just to see what they had. It seemed like their cane selection was smaller, but there were plenty of lovely things to look at. This wall of floggers and whips, for example... I was tempted to ask for a demonstration, but I'm pretty sure the Englishman would frown upon that.

I couldn't walk out empty handed, so I picked up some bondage tape. It was mentioned in the blowie workshop and seemed pretty neat. It's tape that only sticks to itself, making it an easy and effective way to get wrapped up. My passionate hands have been able to wriggle out of the silk ties I've been restrained by, with the incentive of running my fingers through his lovely hair as I straddle the very lap I should be laying across. Sigh... soon.

Thank you to Bratty Adaline for nominating my blog for the "one lovely blog" award! I will return to the challenge in another post, another time. I've been enjoying the breadcrumbs left by others having to mention other blogs, sucking me even further into the depths of the spanking blogosphere. So thank you again!

Inspired by the unattainable corsets... this one isn't leather, but almost as lovely. My bottom looks particularly pale here... I think a red, English handprint would improve the picture greatly.

We Don't Need No Education

With all the (somewhat) recent talk about CWSs (Cock Worshiping Subs), it seemed only natural to take the opportunity to further educate myself and attended a seminar aptly titled, "Suck it, Lick it, Love it." I was quite looking forward to the seminar as I always strive to be the best I can be. However, it was a bit of a bust and unfortunatly turned into more of a sales pitch. I'd love to know if other CWSs use extra toys and props when giving blowies (a much cuter term, in my opinion)? Some of the things they mentioned were vibrating cock rings, masturbation sleeves and lube... lots and lots of lube. Maybe I'm old school, but none of those things called to me... maybe I need to be less of a bj luddite and experiment?

Here is a picture of the demonstrations... Neither one of these ladies is me.

The night wasn't a total bust. I did appreciate the anatomy lesson, both men's and women's. And the speaker was quite entertaining and was able to handle a room full of giggling women and the skeptical men that accompanied them. I didn't buy anything blowjob related, though they do sell a Better Blowjob Kit for $24.94. I did pick up a pair of these very cute panties... cane marks not included.