Joey of Joey and Friends has nominated me for a Liebster Award... needless to say, I'm honored for the nomination and will do my best to not disappoint.
THE QUESTIONS:
What spanking position do you prefer?
My favorite is over the knee... it just feels like home. I'm pretty sure I can smell chocolate chip cookies baking when I'm there.
Is there any spanking implement that is a hard limit for you?
No... I think so much of the power behind any implement is held by the person using it. While I did not have a happy encounter with a plastic spatula in the past, I'm certain it would be a different experience when someone else is wielding it. So, no... no hard limits on implements...only people.
What food do you hate?
I do not do well with slimy textures...no thank you to eggplant. Also, I do not find pleasure in the taste of anything too sweet. I like complexity in my food and I find the taste of white sugar to overwhelm my tastebuds...and not in a good way.
What activity makes you feel naughty?
Naughty? Hmm... I'm generally a good girl, so breaking of any rules certainly makes me feel naughty.
Describe the clothes worn by your fantasy spanker?
A well-tailored suit... accessorized with glasses. (Shout out to one Mr. Stephen Lewis at ShadowLane...had a moment of regret when I saw him walk in as 'headmaster')
Describe the clothes you put on for your fantasy spanking?
A slinky, backless evening gown... perfect to be whipped in before it is slipped off my shoulders for a spanking.
Where would you go for vacation if you won the lottery?
I would love to tour all of Europe...eating and drinking my way through various countries, museum hopping, sightseeing, meeting new friends, getting to know different landscapes...
What famous person would you like to meet for dinner?
Rivers Cuomo, lead singer of the band Weezer.
What is your favorite holiday?
My birthday, which I understand isn't an official holiday, but should be. If not my birthday, I would say Halloween.
What celebrity do you think deserves to be spanked?
Lindsey Lohan... too pretty with too much money, too much time and too much talent... all wasted. A good spanking would do that girl some good.
What is your pet peeve?
Nothing wants me to knock the gum out of someone's mouth with a swift punch to their face than the sound of their gum smacking.
What is one thing that you wish Tops would do during a spanking?
To be themselves...only by honoring themselves can they honor me.
I'm pretty sure I'm one of the last bloggers to have been nominated... but I will nominate a few blogs on my roll who I don't think have participated so far: Erica, SecretSpanko, Emen, Craig and Pink. That's only five, so I would like to invite my six readers to answer, as well as any other bloggers out there that would like to participate. Feel free to answer any or all...I love getting to know everyone... it's the best part of blogging!
1. What inspired your first step into the spanking world?
2. What scene defines your ultimate fantasy?
3. Do you enjoy spanking/being spanked anywhere other than a/your bottom?
4. How do you feel about tears and spanking?
5. Does anything intimidate you? Spanking related or not?
6. What gets your blood flowing? Spanking related or not?
7. Name three things off your bucket list.
8. What is your favorite film? Favorite book?
9. What will be written on your epitaph?
10. Marsha, Jan and Cindy... which one do you fuck, marry and kill?
11. What would be your Groundhog's Day... a day to be lived over and over again?
Thanks again, Joey! It was fun!
Monday, November 26, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
The leaves that were once a lush green now have turned a beautiful golden hue. As those leaves fall to the ground, so does a blanket of cool air, leaving a closet full of summer dresses to hibernate until a warmer season. I knew fall would come, and yet I feel unprepared… desperately avoiding a uniform of jeans so early into the cold months. A compromise is reached in this couture crisis: leggings under a minidress…though it wouldn’t be the first time the tights made an appearance. The very first time I was spanked by the Englishman I wore a thin linen dress with leggings underneath. I remember excusing myself to strip them off in private before he offered to take them off for me. That immediately brought forth a rush of blood to my cheeks… it seemed so forward. Looking back on it seven months later, the exchange seems so very innocent.
Though it had only been a few days since we last saw each other, there was an immediate need to hold one another. The initial embrace was long and hard, never wanting to let go. He spins me around, his hold on me tighter than ever. He tugs at the fabric that sits in a perfect bow at my hip, slowly unwrapping the gift he has suddenly been presented with. The black leggings highlight my bottom, emphasizing its dramatic curves, as the rest of myself is literally pale in comparison. A quick swat to my bottom inspires him to bring the cane out early. He bends me over and leans behind me, meeting my bottom with a firm handshake. I inhale sharply, wanting to ride this sudden wave of such pleasure. He smooths out the nonexistent wrinkles in the fabric, running his hand across my bottom one last time as he prepares the cane. He cuts the air with it…twice, the redundancy presumably due to the cold air. The thin fabric offers no protection as I feel the intensity of each stroke… convinced the threads, like me, will surrender to the cane’s will. I feel his hunger as he roughly tugs my leggings and panties down at the same time. I begin to stand up to assist him, but he is quick to correct me, using his free hand to keep me bent over while using the other, cane in hand, to finish what he started. My lowered leggings now bind my thighs, my bottom bared, his backswing fierce, my mind…quiet. The only thing I can hear is the song of the moving branch as it persuades my eyes to close. The lullaby’s rhythm is graceful, like the last leaf of autumn floating to the ground. And just as slowly, I fall into sweet dreams.
Though it had only been a few days since we last saw each other, there was an immediate need to hold one another. The initial embrace was long and hard, never wanting to let go. He spins me around, his hold on me tighter than ever. He tugs at the fabric that sits in a perfect bow at my hip, slowly unwrapping the gift he has suddenly been presented with. The black leggings highlight my bottom, emphasizing its dramatic curves, as the rest of myself is literally pale in comparison. A quick swat to my bottom inspires him to bring the cane out early. He bends me over and leans behind me, meeting my bottom with a firm handshake. I inhale sharply, wanting to ride this sudden wave of such pleasure. He smooths out the nonexistent wrinkles in the fabric, running his hand across my bottom one last time as he prepares the cane. He cuts the air with it…twice, the redundancy presumably due to the cold air. The thin fabric offers no protection as I feel the intensity of each stroke… convinced the threads, like me, will surrender to the cane’s will. I feel his hunger as he roughly tugs my leggings and panties down at the same time. I begin to stand up to assist him, but he is quick to correct me, using his free hand to keep me bent over while using the other, cane in hand, to finish what he started. My lowered leggings now bind my thighs, my bottom bared, his backswing fierce, my mind…quiet. The only thing I can hear is the song of the moving branch as it persuades my eyes to close. The lullaby’s rhythm is graceful, like the last leaf of autumn floating to the ground. And just as slowly, I fall into sweet dreams.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Finding the Courage to Live with a Fetish
Jillian Keenan’s article, “Finding the Courage to Reveal a Fetish”, has been spreading like wildfire through the spanking community, receiving a well-deserved standing ovation from those of us that share her kink. I find her to be extremely brave for writing such a bold statement and to do so publicly, as it is something I could never do. So it was a complete surprise to me when a wave of sadness washed over me after reading the article. I read her story and saw a distorted reflection of my own life and I realized that I live the epilogue to her story. But my tale does not end with “happily ever after”, instead, my story will be happily ever never. The sadness is for myself, as I do not know Keenan, nor do I assume her relationship or her needs to be anything like mine. If nothing else, I hold out hope for her and spankos everywhere that they can find peace in their path, as I hope to find in mine.
I’ve gone through life living with little regret. I always thought to myself that I made the very best decision I could for myself at any given moment, even if in retrospect it was the wrong one. I do, however, regret not being honest with myself in my youth, repressing that which brings me so much pleasure. The experimentation I went through as a young adult covered a vast wasteland, dabbling in a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Like Keenan, I would test the waters with spanking, but never admitting that it was the spanking that I enjoyed. Instead, I just filed it under “rough sex”… somehow I could justify that as being more acceptable than spanking. If only I could have accepted myself perhaps I would not have found myself in the pickle I am in now.
What sour brine do I bathe in? I am married and have and plan on being so for a long time. I love my husband, and very much like David, my husband knows and accepts me and this part of me that is my fetish. Since acknowledging my kink, I have found myself wishing that I could have known I was into spanking at a much earlier age and perhaps I could have nurtured that part of me, finding the person who could complete my equation. I’m envious of Keenan, having made her decision fully informed, but cannot imagine a love so great to exclude this primal need of mine. In my selfish ways, I could not make that same sacrifice. My husband has quite literally become my ball and chain as I spend a life imprisoned… the sentence I agreed to serve when I walked down that aisle. I can honor myself and do as I’m doing now and let it be a happy compromise, or I can honor my husband and live a lonely life: “The brave ones looked for personal ads,” she replied. “The rest of us were lonely.” My math had been off, divided by zero.
Long time blog readers might remember that years ago I had asked my husband if I could take on a spanker. Understandably, he rejected the idea. After respecting that decision for over a year, I could no longer live another minute without exploring my kink. My hormones were in full gear and every minute that I lived without honoring this essential part of me I saw as another minute of rejecting myself. Keenan writes, “In our different ways, we all just want honesty and intimacy, right? We’re looking for the people who will love us, even when it’s difficult. Or uncomfortable. Or painful.” I have learned that it is not enough for me to be accepted. I need to be seen in this life. I need to be witnessed for who I am, everything I am.
My everyday life is rooted at home. This thing between the Englishman and me is a form of punishment of its own… one that feels so good, like indulging in a spanking followed by a caning. The time we spend together any given week is only a fraction of my life, and yet it consumes so much more of me. I will never have what I really want, to walk this path with a partner who sees me…all of me. Perhaps it is time I find the pleasure in that kind of pain.
I’ve gone through life living with little regret. I always thought to myself that I made the very best decision I could for myself at any given moment, even if in retrospect it was the wrong one. I do, however, regret not being honest with myself in my youth, repressing that which brings me so much pleasure. The experimentation I went through as a young adult covered a vast wasteland, dabbling in a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Like Keenan, I would test the waters with spanking, but never admitting that it was the spanking that I enjoyed. Instead, I just filed it under “rough sex”… somehow I could justify that as being more acceptable than spanking. If only I could have accepted myself perhaps I would not have found myself in the pickle I am in now.
What sour brine do I bathe in? I am married and have and plan on being so for a long time. I love my husband, and very much like David, my husband knows and accepts me and this part of me that is my fetish. Since acknowledging my kink, I have found myself wishing that I could have known I was into spanking at a much earlier age and perhaps I could have nurtured that part of me, finding the person who could complete my equation. I’m envious of Keenan, having made her decision fully informed, but cannot imagine a love so great to exclude this primal need of mine. In my selfish ways, I could not make that same sacrifice. My husband has quite literally become my ball and chain as I spend a life imprisoned… the sentence I agreed to serve when I walked down that aisle. I can honor myself and do as I’m doing now and let it be a happy compromise, or I can honor my husband and live a lonely life: “The brave ones looked for personal ads,” she replied. “The rest of us were lonely.” My math had been off, divided by zero.
Long time blog readers might remember that years ago I had asked my husband if I could take on a spanker. Understandably, he rejected the idea. After respecting that decision for over a year, I could no longer live another minute without exploring my kink. My hormones were in full gear and every minute that I lived without honoring this essential part of me I saw as another minute of rejecting myself. Keenan writes, “In our different ways, we all just want honesty and intimacy, right? We’re looking for the people who will love us, even when it’s difficult. Or uncomfortable. Or painful.” I have learned that it is not enough for me to be accepted. I need to be seen in this life. I need to be witnessed for who I am, everything I am.
My everyday life is rooted at home. This thing between the Englishman and me is a form of punishment of its own… one that feels so good, like indulging in a spanking followed by a caning. The time we spend together any given week is only a fraction of my life, and yet it consumes so much more of me. I will never have what I really want, to walk this path with a partner who sees me…all of me. Perhaps it is time I find the pleasure in that kind of pain.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Reading Tabs
In my state of panic, I desperately wanted to press the red button. But instead of deploying a pair of warheads that would obliterate any evidence of my existence, my ego called out to me, begging to spare the posts we collectively labored over. It could very well be my Achilles' heel... each new post pulling the thread of this delicate sweater, slowly unraveling it until I am fully exposed. But instead of pulling the plug, I compromised and created a new tab archiving most of my journey so far. Status Quo Antebellum...It translates roughly to "the state in which things were before the war". A bit dramatic, I admit...though I have been told I have a flair for that sort of thing.
Not to add to the drama, but I'm considering changing the name of my blog. Initially, this was going to chronicle my transition from my vanilla life to my spanking life. However, I believe we can all agree that I have fully flipped.
ETA: I realized that I missed all the wonderful comments that have contributed to my blog..and it just wouldn't be the same without them. So I have figured out a way to remove the pictures while keeping everything in tidy order... so the page no longer exists, instead, most of my old posts have been restored (sans photos). xo
Not to add to the drama, but I'm considering changing the name of my blog. Initially, this was going to chronicle my transition from my vanilla life to my spanking life. However, I believe we can all agree that I have fully flipped.
ETA: I realized that I missed all the wonderful comments that have contributed to my blog..and it just wouldn't be the same without them. So I have figured out a way to remove the pictures while keeping everything in tidy order... so the page no longer exists, instead, most of my old posts have been restored (sans photos). xo
Friday, November 9, 2012
LOL7: The Cage Bird Sings
I am a lurker on my own blog. It is only appropriate I post on this LOL7 Day.
One day you’re in, and one day you’re out. I watch a lot of Project Runway and Heidi Klum’s famous words seem to apply to my recent hiatus. I understand how it could be considered unforgivable, to abandon my blog without even a proper “auf wiedersehen,” or at least an explanation. The truth of the matter is that I have gotten quite comfortable blogging about my life, often forgetting how public it actually is. When I first started my blog, I thought it would be relatively superficial, writing about this and that. I quickly found it much more fulfilling to go into depth with my emotions, my feelings. Naturally, I got more comfortable sharing the shell that holds that inner-self. Long story short, I had a small security issue that did not go unnoticed. It was a threat not only to the secret life I keep private from blogland, but a threat to the secret life I protect so fiercely everyday…neither one worth risking anything for. The plug had to be pulled, and it had to be fast. I apologize to all my readers, from the loyal contributors who so eloquently support me to the lurkers who I would be smart to take a note from and enjoy this world in silence.
But it simply is not in my nature to keep quiet. I might not post very often, and pictures will be very limited (even more so than before). Perhaps on this 7th Annual Love our Lurkers Day, those who prefer the darkeness of the shadows can come out and join me in the light of the public eye… if just for one day. And in exchange, I will do my best to channel my inner Tim Gunn and make it work.
One day you’re in, and one day you’re out. I watch a lot of Project Runway and Heidi Klum’s famous words seem to apply to my recent hiatus. I understand how it could be considered unforgivable, to abandon my blog without even a proper “auf wiedersehen,” or at least an explanation. The truth of the matter is that I have gotten quite comfortable blogging about my life, often forgetting how public it actually is. When I first started my blog, I thought it would be relatively superficial, writing about this and that. I quickly found it much more fulfilling to go into depth with my emotions, my feelings. Naturally, I got more comfortable sharing the shell that holds that inner-self. Long story short, I had a small security issue that did not go unnoticed. It was a threat not only to the secret life I keep private from blogland, but a threat to the secret life I protect so fiercely everyday…neither one worth risking anything for. The plug had to be pulled, and it had to be fast. I apologize to all my readers, from the loyal contributors who so eloquently support me to the lurkers who I would be smart to take a note from and enjoy this world in silence.
But it simply is not in my nature to keep quiet. I might not post very often, and pictures will be very limited (even more so than before). Perhaps on this 7th Annual Love our Lurkers Day, those who prefer the darkeness of the shadows can come out and join me in the light of the public eye… if just for one day. And in exchange, I will do my best to channel my inner Tim Gunn and make it work.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Ode to Joy
Sweet Anesthesia
sung to "Sad Lisa" by Cat Stevens
I hide my face and cry in your shirt.
I must be hurt very badly.
Show me what can make me happy?
You flex your cane, not holding back.
You’re holding back, don’t you love me?
‘Cause you know that’s how you show me.
Anesthesia, sweet anesthesia.
My eyes like windows, trickle in rain
Upon the pain getting deeper.
Though the cane wants to relieve me.
You hold me tight, from wrist to wrist.
Lost in subspace, I can’t hear you.
Though I see the stripes written by you.
Anesthesia, sweet anesthesia.
I kneel on a pillow at your feet.
There is no more, you now own me.
And will always do what you ask me.
You’ve done what you can to show me my ways.
And maybe one day I can thank you.
Though you know, because I love you.
Anesthesia, sweet anesthesia.
sung to "Sad Lisa" by Cat Stevens
I hide my face and cry in your shirt.
I must be hurt very badly.
Show me what can make me happy?
You flex your cane, not holding back.
You’re holding back, don’t you love me?
‘Cause you know that’s how you show me.
Anesthesia, sweet anesthesia.
My eyes like windows, trickle in rain
Upon the pain getting deeper.
Though the cane wants to relieve me.
You hold me tight, from wrist to wrist.
Lost in subspace, I can’t hear you.
Though I see the stripes written by you.
Anesthesia, sweet anesthesia.
I kneel on a pillow at your feet.
There is no more, you now own me.
And will always do what you ask me.
You’ve done what you can to show me my ways.
And maybe one day I can thank you.
Though you know, because I love you.
Anesthesia, sweet anesthesia.
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