Monday, December 28, 2009
Basket of laundry is ready to go. Have to put ribs in the slow cooker for later. Have to take a walk, do a workout, go shopping ... have a business meeting to go to later.
Just heard my brother's wife's mother passed away over the weekend AND my sister's husband's mother as well. OMG. Both had been sick for a long time, but this is sad. Will get cards at the store when I go.
Hope I can get my act together soon. I've eaten way too much sugar this holiday season. I can still fit in my clothes, but I better nip this in the bud. Beyond how my body looks and whether or not I'm gaining weight, it makes me feel depressed and I don't want to do anything. No motivation.
Since I'll be going back to work tomorrow after five days off, I better be prepared and have energy for what will be a LOT of catching up. So -- healthy lunch and dinner today; no more snacking, nothing after dinner tonight.
I have already asked Rad to "deal with me" for these misdeeds. We may have some time later.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Life never seems to slow down. Christmas Eve I went to my brother's house in S. Jersey for his annual party, then stayed at my mom and dad's house nearby. Christmas morning was spent with Mom, Dad and brother, then it was back to Queens. Rad had to work late on Christmas Eve so he could not join me.
I'd agreed to fill a commitment with my support group, which is running its annual Christmas/Holiday activities. I missed Rad and wanted to get back, but was also having a good time with my family, and was sorry I had to leave so early.
Yesterday Rad and I went into Manhattan and joined Miss Chris and a few other spanko friends for dinner. Then Rad and I went to Paddles NYC for some play.
Today, I'm meeting a friend for dinner. I haven't done much all day but answer emails, promote next Saturday's OTK nightmunch (if you haven't already, let me know if you'll be going) and finally cook lunch. We had some tilapia that I'd thawed out yesterday; I cooked up a whole bunch of Corn Flake-battered fried fish for the heck of it.
I'm tired but I don't have to work tomorrow, so I think I'll stay up just a little while longer. Hope to do something constructive with my time ...
Sunday, December 13, 2009
In the interest of full disclosure, I have more chances of winning if I link to it here. But you all can do the same! Good luck.
In the meantime, I should be writing about all the awesome play I had last night at the Manhattan Spanking Association party. But I'm too freaking tired! Later, I hope.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
I came straight from work, and walking into an already crowded party was rather overwhelming. My apologies to all I was somewhat abrupt with as I tried to acclimate myself. I did already make amends to one top. After working my way through the gauntlet of hellos, I was finally able to hang up my coat, put my baked goods on the table, go to the bathroom to change into party clothes, and finally grab some food from the buffet. I needed food badly, and also needed to sit and relax for just a few minutes. Before I could sit, however, there was one more interruption. "Are you topping or bottoming tonight?" a gentleman asked me.
He didn't know he was the 25th person I'd had to talk to before getting to the table with my food. My response: "I'm eating tonight." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized it was a bit rude. As nicely as I could, I then said, "I'm switching -- and let me talk to you in a bit." I sought him out later and apologized for my abruptness.
I never DID get any peace, but that's the price you pay for fame and notoriety, I suppose! The food was yummy. Hope everyone liked my raspberry mini-tarts. I like baking something special for these parties -- not that it was needed; there were massive quantities of food there.
Of course no one wants to hear about food. The play's the thing! I was non-stop. Sorry, it's hard to say "no" when you've only got a few hours. My husband Rad manages much better than I do at kicking back and just talking to people. Thank you to all my wonderful tops! It was good to catch up with (or in some cases, meet for the first time) the out-of-town guests. M&K from Colorado; Sass and HL from Georgia; Phineas and Michael from Texas; Joe & ____ (drawing a blank) from Michigan(?); the beautiful and very strict disciplinarian Miss Chris from Arizona; Stella and Kay from Florida and Delaware (they were running The London Tanners booth because our good friend Ian couldn't make it. We greatly missed you, Ian, and very sorry about the personal situation that caused you to miss the event); Tony from Florida; Brad, Mr. Meanie and Cara Marie from Maryland; and many NJ, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and I don't know where else friends.
I mostly bottomed, but at one point a nice gentleman politely approached me, introduced himself and said he'd like me to top him. He said he'd been trying to get up the nerve to say hello at the last party. When we spoke, I was on my way to play with someone else. But I told him that I was definitely interested, and I would come and get him soon.
A short time later, I scanned the room and found him in a small group, chatting. His girlfriend (wife/date?) was with him. I tapped him on the shoulder. The look he gave me as he turned around and saw me was priceless -- a poignant combination of longing and trepidation ... mmmm. I know that feeling well.
His girlfriend asked if she could watch. "Of course," I said (I love performing!) and she pulled up a chair just outside the cubicle where we were about to play. He and I spoke briefly about what he was looking for, limits, acceptable implements, etc. I could see that a good hard hand spanking was in order at the very least, and although he didn't ask for a strapping specifically, I thought the medium-intensity strap would be good as a follow-up.
I had him stand in front of me. As I like to do, I undid and pulled his trousers down myself. I gave him the courtesy of a warm-up over his briefs, because I don't think he'd played in a little while. Then they came down and the real spanking started.
A good hard hand-spanking can be very satisfying, and he was making all kinds of nice noises of "appreciation." I was appreciating the view, meanwhile -- he had a nice ass. I finally ordered him off my knee and told him to stand in the corner with his hands on his head. I moved the chairs around into position for his strapping. His girlfriend was enjoying the whole show. I told her at one point, "Don't be hesitant to spank him harder, because he really needs it." Then I asked him, "Isn't that true?" Of course he said, "Yes, Ma'am!" Smart boy.
It was very satisfying to give him his licking. A nice, evenly paced strapping, not too hard, not too soft, just enough to get him squirming and wriggling a bit. Mmm.
A good time was had by all ...
I'll write a little later about Saturday. I've already said too much for one blog here.
Friday, November 27, 2009
For me, I love watching my many nieces and nephews rip open their presents, but I feel pangs because I don't have my own kids. And then in lean years, as this one is, I simply can't buy them all gifts. I have 10 nieces and nephews and three "greats" already. The older ones are well into adulthood, however, so I don't have to worry about them as much. The younger ones -- I do what I can.
Thanksgiving is easier. It's just coming together to eat, hang out. Maybe watch some football. Maybe play a game after dinner (a big part of our family traditions). Yesterday, I let myself eat what I liked, in moderation, took a walk after dinner with my sister, and then allowed myself a little dessert. I have been doing good on my diet, now it's time to relax a little, food-wise (I don't need to lose any more weight) and just work on exercise, toning.
I know my mom was just kidding, but it didn't help to hear, "You're not part of the family anymore -- you're too skinny!" Ouch. I guess this is the price you pay when you try to get in shape. I've mentioned this before -- I was taunted and tortured my entire growing-up years for being fat.* Now I'm suddenly unacceptably thin? Nonsense.
However, my problem is that I myself have trouble accepting the status quo. In the spanking world, when I play, people see my naked butt, hips and thighs -- my most troublesome areas. Yes, it's "acceptable"; I am "just fine" the way I am -- but I want to see if I can get better than "just fine." On top of that, I also want to get stronger. I want to try rock climbing, martial arts, kick boxing -- something new.
All I can do is TRY. If I NEVER get rid of my cellulite no matter what, it's okay. I guess I figure I CAN. It's POSSIBLE. Today I had a healthy breakfast, started back (as planned) on my workouts. Goal: weight training three times a week, with walking or other cardio on other days. I still have to watch what I eat, because I can't work out if I'm sluggish.
*I think it's about time to leave this little painful part of my history behind. It's not who I am anymore. (perhaps more on this in an upcoming blog?)
Thursday, November 26, 2009
He ordered me into the corner. He kept telling me the whole time that I was really going to be taught a lesson. The same, vague not-sure-how-afraid-I-should-be feeling persisted, and I think this was mainly because he was being so calm, even a little “logical” -- I'd misbehaved, I needed punishment, he was going to deliver it.
RD led me from the corner. He had pulled a chair out and was now holding a brush, a round wooden bath brush. Shit. Things were about to get serious.
I dreaded the brush, but was not about to say “no” to anything. “Get back over my knee,” he said. He started to spank me briskly with the brush, all over my bottom. Damn! I kicked my feet a few times, and he responded by spanking my thighs. “Every time you kick, you're getting spanked there,” he said. “I want those legs straight – understand?”
“Yes,” I murmured.
“Yes, sir!” I happen to like calling my tops “sir,” but in the heat of things, I sometimes forget how to speak properly. He seemed annoyed, and spanked me harder and faster. I sort of wanted him to get angry, to raise his voice. That tends to bring the scene from the physical into the emotional real quick for me. Sometimes the fear I feel makes it easier to process pain, too.
RD said he doesn't play while angry. I said it was okay to pretend that he was.
And he certainly felt angry when next he took off his belt. I got a painful taste of that, and then he moved on to a stiff leather strap. Very nasty. It was just a very solid impact and he had me crying out, yelping, quite a bit. I stayed down and took all he handed out. The thing actually felt like a paddle at times. During this part of the session, he did raise his voice a little, lecturing me about my irresponsibility, my inconsiderate behavior.
Everything he said was true, and I hated it. I've been trying for months to improve this particular habit. Still, I said I would work at it harder. I don't think he liked that "promise" -- but I don't know if I can change overnight.
“You know we are not finished here, Sandy,” he said. “I am going to make sure this lesson sinks in, and that you remember it.” I already would remember it. My ass was on fire from the strapping, and I was sobbing a little in points. “When you get back on the plane tonight, you are going to have a very uncomfortable time sitting, young lady.”
Then he sent me to the corner again, but this time he told me to kneel. (This was something my father used to use as punishment when I was a kid -- scary.)
When RD beckoned me back over, he was holding the cane. I had expected that. There were pillows piled on the bed for me to position myself over. He told me to keep my bottom up, and to stretch my arms out in front of me. I clutched the bedspread and buried my face in the pillow.
“You are going to take every bit of this caning, Sandy. You deserve it."
I did deserve it. And it was awful ... and wonderful. Not at the time, of course. At the time, it was just excruciating. I loved him pushing me, hurting me. I loved him telling me that my sobs were not going to get me out of it. He paid particular attention to my thighs, whipping the rattan down and leaving a series of red lines, some of which became welts. I had strokes all up and down. He knew where to aim to make it hurt. I'd guess there were around 200 strokes, all told.
I wanted to cry, to let loose with a real cry, but I could only sob a little. At last he stopped. "That's it, Sandy. We're done." He climbed onto the bed and suddenly he was holding me. I curled up into his arms and sobbed a little more, let my breathing gradually return to normal. Awesome. I felt ... cared for. I felt special.
What a trip. Hope I don't have to wait another whole year for round two...
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The weekend in Southern California was beyond my expectations, and the highlight was finally getting to play with Real_Discipline (RD) after about a year of bantering back and forth. I didn't think we'd get to meet this soon, so I was happy to get the opportunity.
My curiosity had been piqued after Erica Scott played with him and shared her experiences on her blog. (I'll link to this later).
Since I've been toying with the idea of a “Corporal Consultant World Tour 2010,” I decided to do the first leg early, November 2009, in Los Angeles. My three-day weekend was filled with promoting my consulting business, seeing friends old and new, visiting a BDSM club, going to a spanking party on Sunday afternoon -- AND getting spanked by RD on Sunday morning.
During the day on Saturday, and Sunday morning before he got to the hotel, RD was sending me light-hearted but ominous text messages. "Too late for excuses now. Tomorrow you're going to experience Real Discipline" ... "You will be taken to places you've only fantasized about."
When I confessed to a little nervousness, he responded, "Just relax--I'll take the lead and we'll dance with true adult discipline ... this will be something special you and I will never forget."
Wow. And in one of his texts on Sunday morning, he said, “I was born to do this.“ I liked that. I've always found a little bit of cockiness appealing in a man, even more so in a top.
I'm nervous every time I play with a new partner, especially a hard player, as RD was reported to be. But real fear doesn't tend to kick in until we've actually started to play and I suddenly understand just what I've signed up for. And on Sunday morning, RD definitely took charge.
He was very calm, but firm. I had confessed to a real offense and had accepted that I was going to be spanked for that. RD said my "crime" was a major annoyance of his and he felt quite justified with punishing me.
To be continued...
Friday, November 20, 2009
I'm mostly trying to get some exposure for my business, The Corporal Consultant, but in the meantime I definitely plan on having fun. We're going to do some touristy stuff, maybe meet some friends for dinner, then head over to a BDSM club called "The Lair" on Saturday night. I hope to find some nice victims to top while I'm there. Oh, I MAY bottom, but I don't want to go overboard.
My scene with my new friend is set for late Sunday morning. In the afternoon, believe it or not, I was invited to a spanking party (at least I think I'm invited. A friend told me about it and it looks like I'll know others who will be there (Shadow Lane people and people who know people ... it's always good to know people who know people).
I don't have to fly back till late Sunday evening so this all should work out well.
Fun stuff MIGHT include a tour of Universal Studios. Other L.A. must-sees are welcome in the comment section.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
We got to the Moonstruck Diner and there was almost no one there. Anxious that no one else would show up (my usual BS paranoia about no one liking me), we settled in nonetheless. It was us and two other regulars. I went to the ladies' room and there was a 30-, maybe 40-something woman holding her daughter up to the sink to wash her hands. I was waiting for a stall. She put the little girl down and the toddler proudly announced to me, "I went pee pee!" This seemed to be some sort of a big deal, so I smiled and said, "Oh, that's VERY GOOD!" Her mom said to her, "You forgot!--You went pee pee without the potty seat!" She was all ready to go announce this developmental milestone to the rest of her family. My stall opened up and I put them out of my mind for the moment.
Back out in the diner a man came walking by us, pausing momentarily at the restroom entrance to determine which one was the men's room. It was Gilbert Gottfried, the comedian! Oh wow. When he came out he went over to the lady and little girl I'd seen in the ladies room; to all appearances, his wife and daughter. They had a baby in a stroller, too.
For some reason, they were sitting at the other end of our table momentarily. We were all doing the New Yorker thing and pretending we didn't know he was a celebrity. The little girl started wandering. She came down to our end of the table and decided to sit down next to me. She started talking to us. Rad, ever the comedian, stood up and started doing a funny waiter bit, announcing crazy specials of the day. Gilbert Gottfried's wife was laughing. The little girl was amused momentarily by Rad, but then started moving from seat to seat, as children will do. They left pretty soon after that, and that was pretty much the highlight of the munch. Eventually, we had 10 people and some interesting conversations ... mainly about MP3 players and shareware. Oh, there was a brief side conversation about how well chewing gum would actually cover bad breath ... but I need not go into that here.
At Paddles, a few more people showed up and there ended up being a decent party in spite of a somewhat sparse crowd. Some of our buddies are in Florida this weekend at the Florida Moonshine party, so there was some reason for there being fewer people. Still, I felt some disappointment.
I saw this new guy, looking domly, all in black and ... mirror sunglasses? He either thought he looked cool or had some problem with light. But he was in good shape and looked appealing. We decided to play. He had a silly role play where I was his French maid, who was supposed to bake French apple tarts and have them ready when he got home. Instead I forgot to cook dinner, drank his champagne and ate all the apples, leaving a trail of apple cores to the bedroom, where he found me lying there masturbating. (As the role play developed, apparently I'd also not cleaned the house. I hate when maids in spanking fantasies do that!)
Well, he got into my head space and was just really pushing my submissive buttons. I was feeling that little edge of fear that I like, not knowing where he was going to go. Plus, he was strong and of course I liked that. We were in the back room and he says he needs to put me on display. He grabs my hair and leads me out to the stage area. This meant we were walking past the snack bar, where Rad and our other friends were sitting. As I went by I kind of shrugged to Rad and tried to wink at Marie to indicate it was all part of the game. It was strange to have that moment witnessed.
We went up on the stage and it was nothing that different; I'm over his knee and he's spanking me and lecturing me. Suddenly he was lifting me and turning my body. I was up in the air with NO idea where I was supposed to be ending up; I think I even said, "whoa, where am I going?" I was slightly giddy at the manhandling, though, and was going with the flow.
Unfortunate. Next thing I knew we were crashing. I landed and struck the back wall. It's not concrete but rather has a rough Styrofoam-based facade that looks like rocks. I scraped my back along the wall and my ankle got scraped on something else. I was pretty stunned.
At this noise, Eric from Paddles, Rad, several other friends as well as some strangers all rushed over to see if I was okay. That was nice to see. It felt good.
The dom I was playing with explained that he'd been trying to put his foot up on a chair and sling me over his raised knee, a position I actually love. But the chair had skidded out from under him and that's when we both went down.
He and I took a small break. He actually let me spank him to make up for what had happened. Then I agreed to continue our scene. In retrospect, I probably should have ended it, but, like I said, I was in this nice submissive head space and wanted to keep going. Nothing else bad happened, and his spanking was actually very nice. But it's a good lesson to remember, when I start going into that zone, that I STILL really do have my senses about me (for the most part) and I don't need to continue any play I feel unsafe or uncomfortable about.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The week was stressful. Don't really need to get into the details of why, I'm sure you can all insert your own bad boss/bad work environment/too much stress story here. Friday was particularly trying and I was in such a bad mood that I wanted to skip out on the invite we'd gotten to a house party in Pa. We were driving Marie, and when I got down to the Starbucks where I was meeting her and Rad, I said, "I just can't do it. I'm going to be miserable."
They had coffees that they'd ordered while waiting for me. Rad said, "Go get a coffee and relax for a few minutes; you'll feel better." I said, "I doubt it," but went and got a decaf Cafe Americana. Starbucks was nearing closing time and they were going to throw stuff out. The barrista said to me, "Would you like a yogurt?" I love the Starbucks Greek yogurt parfaits and there were a few of those there for the taking. I brightened and said, "Sure! Thanks!"
It's amazing how such a small gesture can help. I felt happier enough to agree to join them at the party. It was a spanking party and I knew I could get my fix. Will write more details later, but I did get what I needed: spanking, belting, paddling, caning, and a very hard strapping.
Today I met most of my goals including exercise. I feel so much better. More on this later.
Friday, October 30, 2009
photo has nothing to do with blog. I just like it.
Dammit, whose brilliant idea was it to create a blog with links to every other f***ing spanking blog or website in the entire f***ing spanking universe? I've been checking out all the blogs for like almost two hours already. I mean come on, I'm going to be exhausted tomorrow after perusing "A Taste of the Birch" and girl's pyjama spanking, and then this fun little page Domestic Discipline Dreams, which hasn't been updated in a while but includes an interactive word search ...
Um, yes, honey, I'm going to bed ... now... I didn't do it! Talk to Richard Windsor.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
I am feeling energetic about everything but work, which is NOT good. Not that I'm required to feel great about work, but I must now shift gears and I don't want to...
At least I was able to meditate this morning -- or, my version of that, which is sitting on the couch not doing anything for a few minutes, with one cat next to me and the other on my lap. If I allow myself this time, it always puts me into a better head space.
I feel good, for once, in the writing department. I have not completed my three daily pages, but I did work on my plot and character development for my novel. Onward and upward...
Hope everyone has a good Monday.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
(Distraction: Why does my dictionary not recognize "cliche" without an accent? How do I insert an accented word into my blog? Fail. Cut and paste instead. What IS that accent mark called? 10-minutes search -- it's called an "accent mark," apparently.)
The critic is now mocking me because I'm wasting time. OK. Focus. What is the topic of this blog? Telling the story. Getting the words onto the page and editing later. I promise to finish the fantasy today. If not this morning, then later on the bus back to New York.
Side note: my friends used some bizarre hard-wood "goat-herding" stick, a gift they'd gotten from someone who'd gone to Kenya, to whack me last night. It was about a foot and a half, maybe two feet at most, thicker than a cane, with a round wooden knob on one end. If I can get a picture I'll add it later.
(Distraction -- 10-minute online search for Kenyan goat-herding stick picture: FAIL. Did find THIS interesting phrase during my search: "If words are not enough, she simply takes the herding stick and treats you like a dog!" from a blog called "Happy Heeler." Strange.)
OK, so where was I. Oh yes, I was being "beaten" by this awesome thuddy toy (as well as spanked) last night and went to bed a happy girl. Sometimes I do NOT need discipline. Sometimes I just need a little pain, a little TLC, all leading to that warm fuzzy feeling.
But warm fuzzy time is over now and I must hunker down and work. Where is that goat-herding stick? Time to beat my self-critic until she shuts the f*** up already. Oh, and time to shut down my distractor as well.
Bonus: tasty treat from The Daily Toast. http://spankysdailytoast.blogspot.com/2009/10/handcuffs-n-buns.html
Friday, October 23, 2009
In the past week, that's become my goal -- three typed pages per day. A certain "conversation" last Saturday with a certain NYtop has inspired me ... I had not been writing, and I had no real excuse.
When D. reminded me of NaNoWriMo, I got a little surge of excitement and ambition. "I can do it this month!" I thought. "I can!" There's a kick-off party/lunch tomorrow that I'm attending (D. is the host). I did this challenge once before, in 2006. I don't think there is much that can be salvaged from that attempt, but I did write, I had a story, and I reached 50,000 words.
"Try" is an awful word. My dilemma is a huge surge of negativity that wants me to give up before I've even begun. The stories that come to mind the easiest are spanking or S&M stories -- mostly kinky, dark stories -- sometimes a lesbian fantasy -- have come out every day this week except Monday, and my vanilla writing that day was boring the shit out of me.
As opposed to using that bad word "try" I think I can commit to a promise that I'll write every day. I must first meditate for 10, 15 minutes to push that negative energy down and replace it with positive energy. Then to accept the following about myself: 1) I do have a story to tell. 2) What seems boring and too like real-life tediousness may be intriguing to someone else. 3) it's okay to write a spanking, BDSM, lesbian/bi/gay novel if that's what comes out. I will strive to make it different from other things I've read.
My ultimate goal is to be published, I suppos. Sometimes it's hard to write because I begin to imagine the critics who will be reading and judging my story. Not a legitimate reason for not writing. Criticism and/or praise comes later. This is just between me and the computer, for now.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
But now I'm sometimes reacting differently. This all started when I got my tattoo recently. I don't do needle play; it's never been my kink. But I wanted a tattoo so I figured I'd just grit my teeth and deal with the pain somehow. I NEVER expected to get high off it the way I did. My friend actually asked me if I was OK to drive.
This week I had to get allergy tests, where they stick about 25 different allergens just under the skin of both upper arms. They all hurt, not to an excruciating degree but enough. Again, I just wanted to witness and process that pain instead of turning away.
I also wonder if I'm developing some weird medical fetish wherein the doctor, the "medical authority," becomes simply "authority" ... AKA "dom."
At times when I've had a hard time with medical or dental pain, I've imagined my dom standing in the doorway watching me and telling me to be good... It serves as a distraction for a little while. But the idea of the doctors and nurses themselves being the doms is more exciting.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Why? Because that's what he wanted to do to me. He wanted to hurt me this way. Why? Because I wanted him to. I didn't want him to relent, to back down. My body fought it; my mind struggled to overcome my body's resistance.
"All right, dear," he finally said, oh, so patiently. "I need you to get back into position. Up on your knees. Head down. Spread your knees further apart. Good girl. You have a few more strokes coming, and you're going to have to take them."
("Why?") Yet I obeyed. I spread my legs as I pushed my face into the bedspread. I could not guarantee that I could keep quiet. He struck. A nanosecond later I cried out. The pain shot through me and I shook as I accepted it.
Sometimes the pain is a flash of hot yellow light. Today it was sparkling gold glitter, like stars against a black sky. My fear collided with my desire, and as he struck again I could not tell which was stronger. I wanted him to overcome me, take me down, break me.
It was only a matter of minutes. He struck again...
Monday, October 12, 2009
The full scoop is over at My Bottom Smarts, where Bonnie is inviting readers to post comments, especially if they read a blog regularly but have never commented on it before. (By the way, Bonnie ALREADY had nine comments and it's barely past Midnight!)
I'd certainly like to hear from people who have read MY blog and never commented. I'm going to put the word out on my other blog as well (www.mscassandrapark.com)
OK (don't know if this will actually help or not) I'll ask a question and you can delurk over it: Q: What do you think I should write about next and why?
b) food, diet or exercise
c) what I saw on my way to work
Yesterday, Sunday, I got to indulge my other side. My friend D. from Philadelphia, a disciplinarian with whom I've played many times over the years, was giving me some website/computer advice -- I was paying him for a consultation.
He decided to throw in a "freebie" and whip my ass as well. I still don't quite understand what that had to do with my website ... or maybe he was simply supplying me with "fresh content."
Anyway, he seemed to think I needed it, for some odd reason. (Why would anyone ever get that impression from me?) He had a bunch of long wooden dowels and used them to cane me until each of them broke. Then he used a nasty thick riding crop that felt more like a paddle (used fast and furiously -- he had me sobbing). Finally, he used the FCT, also known as the "F***ing Cat Toy."
I have written of this item from hell before. It is a polyurethane "cat toy" that's worse than a cane - and never breaks. (Looks kind of like this:
When you click on the Petco product page, there's an interesting description: "... perfect for mental and physical stimulation--it keeps them alert, agile and healthy ..." How did they know?
After all these years, the FCT still has the fuzzy mouse dangling off the end. And after D. finished thrashing me, while I was very gingerly pulling up my pants, he had the nerve to go out in the hall and tease his cat with it! That's just wrong on so many levels.
I am sitting very tenderly today, but I'm in a good head space. Now, I must go get some errands done before I completely waste this nice day off.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
I took a sick day today. I rarely do this, and I've got lots of days available that I could use before the end of the year. We just finished sending the magazine to press, and I'm ahead with the next issue, so it was actually the perfect day to call out.
I am not going to go crazy, either, "using the day to catch up on errands." We DO need laundry done, and the cat litter changed, but that might be it. A walk, perhaps?. See comment below on weight issues.
On a side note, I continue to be depressed. For starters, about the state of our apartment. I need a maid, a decorator, a professional organizer, a backhoe ... I do my best at tossing junk mail as soon as it arrives. The charities that I've committed to keep sending more and more mail. I save these because I want to give, but I can't send a checks before I check and see how much I've already given this year, which is another project I can't get to right now, and so this goes on the stack of "later."
I've got four movie passes in an envelope ... somewhere on my desk; in a bag; in a drawer ... damned if I know! I hope they appear soon. I want to go to the movies and I've already paid.
I have to call my shrink and schedule an appointment to renew a prescription. I've been putting this off for ages because I'm nervous around him and ... not that I don't trust him, but I always get the feeling with shrinks that they don't delve deeply enough into the issues before prescribing. Based on my own experience, I definitely need my primary medication (anti-depressant) but I remain uncertain about ADD meds. I want to ask him for a more thorough diagnosis. I have a book here with a test, which I will take ... soon. Another item on the "later" stack.
Oh, yes. I'm also depressed because I've gained five pounds. How is this possible? I'm declaring myself off-diet today. I think I will stop logging my food for one month, eat whatever I think I need to eat, and see how that works at the end of the month. I'm very angry with my body right now. It won't do as it's told.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
His door was unlocked. I found him in his leather chair, smoking and watching a DVD. Keanu Reeves was moving in slo-mo. It was too warm.
"The Matrix again?" I said. "And what happened to your air conditioner? It's fucking hot in here."
He’d been reading: "Cryptography and Steganography: Hidden Messages." There was a notebook with numbers and repeated letters. Cryptography? Hidden messages? With me, there was no secret code: I was crazy for him.
"The air conditioner’s broken. Deal with it." His voice was cold. "Get over here and get on your knees." So I wasn't getting a kiss. In fact, his look seemed contemptuous. My knees felt weak, and I was scared. I hesitated and thought, Is he playing?
I took too long. He was up out of the chair, striding over and grabbing my hair while undoing his pants. He dragged me over, pushed me down and yanked out his cock. He shoved it into my mouth, hard. I gagged, then settled down.
"Isn't this why you're here, Slut?" I glanced up. He exhaled smoke at me, and then slapped my face. "Get me off." Another slap. Tears filled my eyes as my pussy contracted with desire. Yes, this was why I was here. He would slap me more, probably beat me. We'd probably fuck for a long time.
Later we'd get lovey-dovey. Maybe he’d explain this code thing. Right now, there was nothing cryptic about what he wanted.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Today first Flash Fiction Friday challenge (from The Daily Toast):
“But I DO know my place!” The argument continued inside while I waited, facedown. I’d merely tried to protect my employer’s reputation. But he wouldn’t listen.
“You, miss, are not my teacher!” he’d barked. After one more attempt at defending myself – while I nervously folded one napkin repeatedly – he’d cut me off and ordered me to my room.
It wasn’t fair! The embarrassing misspelling of “presence” in his party invitations would now remain uncorrected because of his arrogance. I would be caned for trying.
I sighed. Good thing I like caning.
I hoped his guests brought lots of presents …
Friday, September 4, 2009
Oh, yes, getting some good, quality play in. Just finished with L. from Michigan, who went MUCH tougher on me than I expected -- I was pleasantly surprised. I didn't ask permission yet to post names, so if it's okay with him I'll update blog later.
Also getting some good, quality "bonding" time in with friends. D. of D.&G. took me to a spa she used to go to in Vegas when she lived here a few years ago. She got a waxing, I got a facial ... an incredible, mind-blowing facial with a head massage, an arm and hand massage and I can't even tell you what else because I was in la-la land. It made up for yesterday's disaster of a manicure/pedicure -- oh, and if anyone's going to the spa in the hotel, I don't recommend pedi/manis there. Sorry...
I'm being very touchy/feely this weekend ... OK, don't get any ideas. I'm talking shoulder rubs, foot rubs, etc, among friends. Sat behind K-L on the couch at last night's suite party and just rubbed her shoulders and head for a while. It just felt good to do it, and she seemed to like it.
Later I'll probably have some SERIOUS play. Rad and I will have to have a good session, as well. He spanked me in public last night for blowing raspberries on his tummy. Guess he doesn't like that or something?
It's all good!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
We arrived in Las Vegas yesterday afternoon, hopped the free shuttle from the airport to the Suncoast, and were checked in within minutes. Arriving on Wednesday gave us a little peace and quiet before the throngs arrived. I love seeing old friends, but when everyone is arriving at once it can be someone disconcerting and overwhelming, at least to me. We'll deal with that later.
We hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, so after unpacking, we promptly did the old fart thing and took naps. A wise move. I had a session planned with R. on Wednesday evening and I going to need the energy.
R.&J. and T.&E., two other couples who are good friends, were also there early. I don't know who else from SL was at the hotel; we didn't see anyone else. We all had a casual dinner at Cafe Sienna.
Later R. and I went to HIS room while his wife J. stayed and played with Rad in our room. That worked out well. R. had plotted an angry dad scene. And it worked out perfectly ... he punished me for being irresponsible and getting a tattoo. I got a good hard paddling and a belting for that, while he yelled at me and lectured me. I LOVE that kind of scene. Last time we'd played, at Florida Moonshine, I was so into the "insolent teen" role that I made him work extra hard -- it was more of a "take-down" scene as a result.
This time, I was more nervous. At first I tried to talk my way out of the punishment, but he slapped my face (note: this is consensual, and something that turns me on) a few times and yelled at me to shut up. So ... I was too scared not to shut up, and took what he gave me. I loved it.
Today was very laid back. Had a late breakfast. Did some gambling. Lost a small amount of money and quit. Went to gym and ran on treadmill, showered, went shopping for soda, snacks and toiletries with T.&E., then back to room for a casual lunch.
Later, pedicure at 4:30. Dinner at Senor Miguel's at 6 (anyone reading this is welcome to join us). Then a couple of private play sessions, and, I'm assuming someone will be hosting a suite party later tonight.
I'm looking forward to some serious play with one or two good friends this weekend. I don't know -- I never know -- how, exactly, the weekend will unfold or who I will meet. It's always a pleasure to meet a good top, or an interesting bottom, or just a new couple. A year ago we hit it off with D.&G. from San Diego, and they'll be here later and will be at dinner. The four of us plan to so some private play at some point. Won't be possible to fit EVERYTHING in, but I'll do my best.
Oh, someone from our NY crew just texted me. They have arrived and are down at the bar. More later...
Saturday, August 29, 2009
I sit here contemplating the foolishness of my actions, dreading what is to come tonight. Flashing on the subway on Half-Naked Thursday was nothing, and I cannot blame any wild girlfriends and peer pressure this time. I've gone and blabbed about what I was going to do -- and then did not follow-through. And now I must be punished, and I will have no say. I am humiliated.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Supplicium post mortem's challenge is to write a 250-word piece that includes the words "raindrop," "guess," and "transparent." I have to finish by 6 p.m. Saturday.
The Daily Toast calls upon us to write an erotic fiction piece, exactly 69 words, incorporating the acronym HNT. ("In case you're not familiar with it, HNT stands for "Half Nekkid Thursday" as described here. The subject of the post is this photo.") This one's due today.
I surely can slap (hee hee, I said "slap") 69 words together by today, 250 by tomorrow ... right? Here we go. Putting it right out there for the world. If I don't finish these challenges by their deadlines, I'll take 20 licks from anyone mentioning this blog at Paddles tomorrow night. Cane, belt, strap or leather paddle only, no wood paddles). Let's see who's paying attention...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
I haven't actually seen the movie in its entirety yet. Hope you all like it. And I hope I get to film another one soon.
I also got a sneak peak at Rad's new video with Punished Brats, which arrived in the mail today. Damn, he gets Pixie good with the strap. From the look on her face, I think she "enjoyed" that scene in the way some of us do (hate to take a strapping/love to have been strapped). Rad is a big mean daddy -- or in this case, "uncle." He has some other good scenes. too. I don't know when these clips will be available, but since the movies appear to be edited, I'm assuming fairly soon. Check the Punished Brats sight for updates.
In the meantime, time is ticking away before the SL party. Did NOT manage to get my hair cut, as planned, tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.
I am working from home and it's only 8 a.m. now, so I may lay back down for another hour before digging in. I have a lot of reading to do. May take a walk over to the diner later and spread out with my manuscripts. It may be easier to read there than at home. I tend to do well with the low hum of background chatter. As long as no one voice rises above the others, then a dull roar is fine. I do well in a crowded Starbucks.
Other goals for the week are to work at returning calls, to call friends I haven't called in a while, to do some cleaning up around the house (laundry is not on the list right now; it will get done eventually, sometime before Shadow Lane). I've scheduled my Brazilian for Sunday, will get hair cut and highlighted today if I can get an appointment, will do nails on Monday or Tuesday or -- worse comes to worse -- after I get to Vegas on Wednesday.
I try not to think about the trip ahead because I know I will get obsessive and frantic. Yet, I must do SOME planning, not only to schedule play dates, but to prepare by shopping, organizing, etc. I don't NEED new dresses, shoes and panties ... I just need new dresses and shoes and panties. My usual mode is L.L. Bean or Birkenstock sandals, jeans (even at work, some days). My girly-girl side comes out at the parties, and I like to indulge it.
Other sides come out as well -- my flirty side, my submissive side (with the right people) and of course my toppy side, which many fine gentlemen, I'm sure, will allow me to express next weekend. Missing "The Boys" and happy that we get to catch up again ... you know who you are.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Well the itch goes deeper. As always I could use a scene. I'm doing a topping scene tonight, and will probably have to cover the tattoo with an ace bandage. Topping relieves some of my need, and certainly helps me get out some of my frustration with work. But to submit to someone, to be made to take my punishment, is what I crave. I almost feel silly writing that here. Those of you who know me already know that.
We are going to the Manhattan Spanking Association party on Saturday. I know I can count on Rad (Big Mean Daddy) to "help me out." And there should be a variety of other tops too. Surely I will regret posting this. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. If you don't take the plunge, you'll never what it feels like to have gone over the edge. (in non-psychobabble speak: It's going to hurt, but I need it!)
Monday, August 17, 2009
As promised, here are the pictures of my new tattoo. Took bandages off this morning, cleaned it, A&D Ointment-ed it per instructions.
My friend Randi warned me I'd want to run out and get another one. She was right. But I'll wait a little while.
Rad says he's cool with it as long as it's not something crazy -- like a snake wrapped around my leg and/or coming out of my crotch. And I've already promised more than one person -- there won't be any on my butt.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Me, I had my own first ... I FINALLY took the plunge and got a tattoo, which I've been wanting to do for years. Literally years of saying, "Yes, I want one, but I just can't decide WHAT I want." I tried to to combine a few of my personal likes with things that were meaningful to me, such as cats, motorcycles, my recovery from alcoholism, etc. and nothing seemed right.
I finally came up with an idea that was simple. It fits into both my BDSM lifestyle (particularly as a submissive, which is the side I identify with the most), and my sobriety, a subtle but very important part of my life. I wanted a chain going around my wrist, with some sort of meaningful words accompanying it. I borrowed a line from AA literature, specifically, the "3rd Step Prayer," which was instrumental to me in the early years. Along with my tribute to the spirituality I still strive toward, I believe this is a perfect tribute to those I submit to:
"I offer myself to Thee." Those words are now on my left wrist, above a chain that encircles the wrist. I am almost afraid to take the bandages off; I loved it just after I saw the finished product. Will I still love it tomorrow?
My friend Randi went with me. She's gotten a number of tattoos over the years; I trusted her advice and was grateful for her support. She recommended a Long Island place she knew where the artists were very good, Da Vinci Tattoo Studio. All I knew was that it was going to hurt; I had no idea how much or how I would react to it -- just as I feel when I approach a scene with any new player or any new type of play. The basic assumption is that I will survive. But the question is: Will I survive "gracefully"?
I don't know how to explain this. I must truly be a masochist, because I loved the pain. I think I began to fly pretty soon after it started, and the combination of the sharpness (it felt alternately like intense heat and like cutting) and vibration knocked me right into euphoria. There were a couple parts where the pain was very pointed -- my wrists are small and when the needle was etching me over the bone that sticks out at the side, it felt like a very sharp, small knife slicing into me. But I continued to soar over it, really getting a high from it all. Sometimes I had my eyes closed, sometimes I looked at Randi, sometimes I just watched the artist and the needle do its work. At one point I looked at her and said, "I think I'm stoned." She laughed.
I face my coworkers tomorrow. Will this be "outing" myself too much? We'll see. I went through these fears last night and almost changed the location of the tattoo at the last minute. But it was what I wanted, in the location I wanted, and I went ahead and did it.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
After rush hour on Tuesday, the R train to Queens is not crowded. But there are people midway through the car, and at the opposite end from where he and I enter. We head toward a pair of seats. "Don't sit down," he says.
"What? Why?" I ask. But then the look on his face is obvious: He wants to play. I wonder what he's up to. But I smile, willing to play along.
"Because I'm in charge, that's why," he says. "...got it?" And he emphasizes this by suddenly gripping the back of my neck. He knows that always gets to me. I gasp softly. "Yes. Got it!"
"'Sir'!" he hisses in my ear.
"Got it, Sir." I'm nervous and thrilled simultaneously.
"Both hands on the pole," he says, indicating the horizontal bar over the seats. I grab the bar and he sits in front of me, his legs spread on either side of me. "Lean forward." I obey. I wonder if anyone is paying attention. He places both hands on my boobs, gives them a wide squeeze. His touch, combined with the vibrations of the train, make me moan. The train then sways roughly, and I with it. He grabs the opportunity to pinch my right nipple, hard. My blouse is light and my bra isn't padded so he's able to get a tight grip. I can't scream on the train. I clamp my lips together and close my eyes, trying to accept the pain. "Look at me!" he orders. I open my eyes and try to obey.
The thought enters my head: We aren't doing anything illegal, are we? My eyes are watering from the pain and it gets worse each time the train sways and rocks. He finally releases me, and I gasp with relief. I also glance quickly down the train, checking the others. If they are watching, it's not obvious. He stands up, comes around behind me, then very loudly says, "What color panties are you wearing, young lady?"
Oh, jeez. Now people are looking. I feel my face flush hotly. And then he pulls up my skirt.
My bottom is exposed. As a matter of fact, to answer his question, I am wearing my red nylon bikinis, one of my favorite pairs, and I'd worn them for him. I just didn't realize I'd be showing them off so soon.
"Oh, my!" he says, loudly again. "Look at these slutty panties." I twist my head and look at him, pleading with my eyes. I'm really embarrassed. Is it my imagination, or have those two guys who were halfway down the car suddenly gotten closer?
He tucks my skirt hem into my waist, then sits down again. I've lost my protection and I feel very exposed. But I don't want to be disobedient so I keep my hands on the pole. "Please," I whisper.
"You are pleasing me," he says, grinning.
"We'll get into trouble..."
"Someone will be in trouble, that's for sure."
"This might be illegal!" I finally voice it. Those guys have moved closer, I'm sure of it.
"Well, you should be spanked, then -- wearing slutty panties and breaking the law!" Again, loud enough for everyone to hear. And then to make things worse, he turns and speaks directly at the two guys, who are most definitely watching. "Do you think I should spank this slut right here?" he asks.
Oh, God, no...
They laugh, a little nervously. Finally one of them says, "Sure!" and laughs louder. I'm going to die of humiliation.
"She does need it ..."
Again I whisper, "Please!" But I remain in position, trusting him.
The train is coming toward a station. He stands and pulls my skirt back down into place over my panties. "Oh, darn," he announces. "We'll have to postpone this bad girl's spanking. Here's our stop." It is not our stop, but I am more than grateful for the reprieve.
And as we exit, I'm doubly grateful that our two horny friends don't follow us.
In the station, he slams me up against the wall, kisses me hard and grinds against me. "God, I can't wait to get you home!" he says.
Me either, babe. Me either.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sunday four of us, three scene people and one vanilla, went hiking at a nice spot in North Jersey, a short but very rocky and hilly trail that led to a mountain lake. I love hiking and loved this challenge. It was steep enough in certain areas, with the occasional slippery rock, where I had to search for hand holds to keep from slipping. When we were almost at the lake we discussed swimming. I hadn't brought a bathing suit because I didn't think it would be warm enough to swim. We talked about skinny dipping, but there were others already there, a father, a gang of teenage boys and one girl. My friends said I could just pretend my underwear was a bathing suit. I thought it would be too cold, but others were splashing around in the water and I didn't want to look like a chicken shit.
I did as they suggested and stripped down to bra and panties. I still had faint marks on my thighs from the last time I played, but I think you would have had to be looking for them to see them, let alone recognize what they were. I didn't worry about it. Dipped my feet in the water. It was cold, but nowhere near as cold as I'd expected. I took the plunge and dove in. Wow, not bad! Very refreshing.
We swam across the lake to where there were little cliffs. The kids were climbing up and jumping back into the water off a 20-foot cliff. I climbed up (rather difficult in bare feet, but I managed). Spent just a few minutes looking over the edge, thinking about whether I had the nerve. I realized rather quickly that I didn't, at least not that day. I told my friend, who was about to jump, that I simply couldn't do it, and I climbed back down. I watched him jump from the water, then I swam back to the other side. I was happy enough that I'd taken the swim and gone all the way across the lake and back -- I didn't need any more challenges that day.
On the hike back to the parking lot, it started to rain so we had more of a treacherous time on some of the rocks. But it was easier getting back, in my opinion. The rain felt good, and I liked the muddiness. Good feeling all around, to be out in nature like that. I don't get that enough.
Well, it's off to work. I'm late again. Will try to write a fantasy later.
Monday, July 27, 2009
"Where's your story, Sandy?" Mr. D.'s brown eyes are NOT friendly today. Oh, God, he's noticed the absence of my assignment already. Thought it would take some time. Now everyone in the class is looking at me. Not good, for a Monday morning.
"Uh.. uh... Sorry, Mr. D. I had writer's block. I couldn't get the ending right."
He glares at me. "Sandy. Come up here, now." Oh, jeez. Now everyone's REALLY watching. And as I nervously stand, straighten my pleated skirt and begin to walk toward the front, he suddenly smacks the stack of my classmates stories down hard onto his desk. I jump.
He starts with a low growl. "I specifically said on Friday that your stories were to be handed in this morning, complete or not! Do you not remember?"
"Yes, but, um... it was almost done, I couldn't just let it go like that..."
"I do not accept your excuse. I expect more from you, Sandy." My eyes are filling with tears. He's still looking right at me. I don't want to look back. "I'm not going to let this go, Sandy." And he slides open his desk drawer, where I was well aware he kept his ruler. His special ruler, the extra thick, solid wooden one.
"You are going to stay after school today, and you are going to finish your story, do you understand?" Now his voice is rising. I am very nervous. He smacks the ruler against his left palm for emphasis. "But your hands are going to be very sore."
I place my hands behind my back, as if that's going to stop what I know what he's about to do. "Sandy!" Mr. D. barks. "Put those hands out in front of you. NOW!" I obey. "Hold your left hand up with your right. You remember how."
"Please, Mr. D.," I whimper. My hands can't seem to move.
He grabs my hands from behind my back, forces them into the position. "Keep them there!" I start to silently cry. He raises the ruler, holding my hands up with his left hand. And he swings it down. The pain is searing, and I cry out. Oh god, no more. "Keep them there," he repeats. And the punishment continues...
And THIS is one reason I don't start writing in the morning. I check blogs like Bondage Blog, which is all nice and genteel and artsy, until you click on certain links like: Fuckedandbound1 (I especially like the "beautiful" suspension bondage near the end)and fuckedandbound2. (LOVE the energy between these two. The face slapping and breast slapping near the beginning is extremely hot, AND I am digging the upside-down suspension that comes later on)
Have to get ready for work now. I'll write on my way there...
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Pardon my potty mouth.
I have a short story that's been sitting on my computer for, oh, I don't know -- three months now? Four? Six? Mike and Bill both claim the right to punish me for my procrastination -- who will get to me first? And it's practically done except for the sex scene, and I do believe this one needs a sex scene. Now, I think my writer's block is real in this case; I am not certain at all about how this one should go.
But it's okay, it's all good ... LOL. I'll keep pushing forward and doing the same b.s. texting and Tweeting (oh, God, I have become the same asshole I used to hate -- walking down the street texting. How did I sink so low?)
Thank god Rad pushed me to go to Paddles on Saturday night. I was in a bad mood and I needed to take it out on some willing victims and then have it taken out on MY ASS (and I did, and it was). Lame-ass "slave auction" with much pity-bidding going on and dubious amounts of money offered. I bought my own husband, who gave me a good strapping, because that's what his owner needed ... but as a result of my reckless bidding I found myself with four male bottoms who needed to be spanked. Well, let's go, fellas, form a line... and then there was Emily, bratting, whom I had no choice but to haul over my knee as well...
As it turned out, I DID enjoy playing with all of them. Three of the guys were new to me; the fourth was a sub I play with often at the club. The last one I played with for the night was a personable guy, "J.," who took a hard spanking but didn't take it easily -- he struggled and gave great feedback. I love hearing a reaction. It IS supposed to hurt, right?
Today I forced myself back into the city to attend a "Ladies' Tea" on the Upper West Side. We enjoyed little sandwiches, tiny scones, homemade jam and delicious cookies. And the conversation was nice, as well. Most of these women are involved with TES and attend local events. I really do want to be more "in" the community, and I'm making progress. Hope to get together with them again soon.
Tonight's lightning storm seems to have subsided. I was supposed to be in bed an hour ago, pushed it to 9:30, and here it is 10 p.m. -- scratch that; it's now almost 10:30 -- and it's time. But I simply HAD to get something written tonight, even if it's not a real blog.
I may begin to do more writing challenges, inspired by fellow NY spankee Casey Morgan, who in turn was inspired by yet another blogger, Sweltering Celt. who created "Microfantasy Monday." (See explanation of that here.) The theme for tomorrow is "teacher." Casey also offers us writing challenges on Wednesdays (Midweek Missed Connections) and Flash Fiction Fridays, where the challenge is to write a 250-word story, starting any time on Friday and finishing by 6 p.m. Saturday.
But I'll start with Monday's challenge and deal with the rest of the week later. Now, if I can't write a fantasy about a teacher, then start shoveling dirt on me, because I'm done. Being spanked in a school room is my default getting off fantasy when other scenarios aren't cutting it (thanks for sharing).
OK, good night. Look for a "real" blog tomorrow.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
If I eat junk I'll have even less energy, so I don't want to go there. I am seeing a new doctor in two weeks; maybe she'll have some answers (oh, yeah, they switched insurance on us again at work and this time my doctor's not on the list. It's so hard, usually, to find a good new doctor. My co-worker recommended hers, and she WAS taking new patients, so I made an appointment. Crossing my fingers.
I still haven't figured out the LAST insurance plan they changed on us, last year, and how we're supposed to use the eye and dental coverage. I know exactly what they're doing. They're making it confusing so people like me won't go get their teeth taken care of. Okay, maybe it's not THAT confusing, but I definitely was having trouble finding my dentist on the coverage list and I didn't know what I'd be paying. I have to get some idea of that before I schedule an appointment.
Today I got to work from home, which was nice because at least part of the time my black and white cat was on my lap. They are a distraction, though. And food is a distraction. It's like the kitchen is calling me even though we have no junk in the house.
Anyway. I have an appointment with my shrink tonight. Maybe she can give me some advice on elevating my mood. Oh, and I'll probably walk after I see her, which always feels good.
I can't even talk about the scene right now. My head is so far away from there...
Monday, July 13, 2009
As many of my scene friends know, I didn't go to the Strictly Spanking New York party this weekend -- much as I wanted to catch up with and play with old friends. Several folks I hear were in from out of town, and D. from Philly even made a rare appearance.
I attended a workshop, held outside of Philadelphia, designed to deal with some past issues in my life, to start to learn to express anger and other emotions in safe ways and to start to identify when fears are being triggered by old childhood beliefs -- stuff like, "If I say 'no,' I'll be in trouble, I might get hit, I might end up alone," etc.
It was quite intense. Many of the participants were there because they had some pain in their past they hadn't quite gotten beyond, and it was affecting their present. A few were specifically dealing with grief, the loss of a son or a wife. Me, I'm still dealing with father issues. I found the exercises really helped a lot -- left me kind of drained, but also mellow.
It was difficult to return to work today, but I did my best and got a lot done. Will try to write more tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
They hurt. The ones that I fantasize about, especially. I mean, really really hurt. As soon as they start I can't imagine WHAT I was thinking, craving this. When I haven't played with someone in a while, I tend to think, "He never went this hard before!" -- but that's probably just my imagination. He HAS spanked me that hard before; it's just that my mind has processed the memory in a very pleasant, neat little "romantic" package. And part of that romantic flight of fancy is that I assume the position and take what I've earned like a docile little submissive.
The grunting, sweating, fear-filled reality is that when I get the spanking I deserve (and need) I'm going to be struggling through it. I MAY stay in position but it will be VERY difficult once the big girl implements come out. I may have to be tied down. I may have to be gagged if I'm in a place where my yelps may be too loud. I may have to be threatened with even more severe punishments if I don't take THIS one. And that DOES scare me and I try to stay still. But sometimes my body simply betrays me.
My top will keep going when I start to cry or scream. He knows I deserve more. He may hold me down. As the pain gets harder to take, he may bring out another implement, perhaps something made of wood. And that's when I may lose it. At the first one or two strokes I will cry out, "No! Stop! I can't take it!" He will continue to spank me, telling me that I WILL take it. If I rebel, if I throw myself off his lap and onto the floor, begging for mercy, that's when he may spring into action. He'll haul me back up, force me back over his lap, lock my legs into place (a predicament that always scares me), and calmly state: "We aren't finished, young lady."
Sunday, July 5, 2009
I'm bound in white rope over a red shirt and black skirt, ankles and knees tied together, wrists tied together behind my back, and a couple strips of white duck tape pressed over my mouth.
I'm nearly immobile, my face pressed sideways to the carpet, in the center of a small living room with people circulating around me. Some choose to raise my skirt and spank me, or to use a belt on me. Others simply step over me and ignore me.
I breath softly and rhythmically through my nose. I've been in this peaceful, relaxed state almost as soon as my captor bound my wrists together. Yes, I suppose with extreme effort I could wriggle free, but beyond that I'm really stuck here.
I suppose a half hour or so has elapsed. Rad kneels down close to my ear and asks if I am doing all right. I'm able to murmur through the tape that I am.
I'm really loving this, and it doesn't MATTER whether people pay attention or not. Either way is fine. It's so "freeing" to be so constricted, so helpless.
(Cross posted on FetLife)
Friday, July 3, 2009
Going in the other direction to NON consensual pain: It might not be a good idea to spank your girlfriend during sex when her kids are in the house ...
New York Post story: PASSION ENDS IN BASHIN'
See the quote about 2/3 of the way down:
"I was slapping her ass, and they mistaked it for me beating on her."
And speaking of kids, if your kids get into a fight with their friends, it's not cool to post their friend's home number on Craig's List. Now, we're talking about a 9-year-old girl here.
"Tannenbaum put the ad -- which read, "Looking for a good time? W4M 21" -- on Craigslist in a section known for escort-service ads ... She then gave the would-be escort patrons the girl's home phone number, authorities allege." No. Not cool at all.
Not much else to say tonight. We spent some time in Shadow Lane's "organized" chat tonight, hosted by SL owner Eve Howard. It was going fairly well until I started multitasking and posting links to some bondage pics I found over on Spanking Blog Feed (one of my links at left). And no one kicked me out (I think Eve liked the pics!) Now, I understand not everyone's into bondage, so you don't have to look. It looks VERY uncomfortable. But it IS intriguing...
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Unfortunately, about an hour into this, Rad got a call from his mom’s home health aide that she wasn’t responding. Her eyes were open and she was apparently awake, but not speaking. She had a stroke two-and-a-half years ago, has diabetes, and has had other health issues more recently. This is her third trip to the hospital in six months. Her aide called for an ambulance while we rushed back to Queens. By the time we got to the hospital, the ER staff had already raised her sugar levels back up and she was alert and responsive.
What a scene. The ER was mobbed. People were lying or sitting on gurneys all over. Rad’s mom was at the end of a row of four gurneys right next to each other, no space at all in between. Other patients were lined up in the corridors. One guy was holding an ice pack to his nose; blood was rushing out. I happened to look in that direction, see this, then had to quickly look away.
Then came the incident with the drunk/stoned/crazy girl. She seemed to be in trouble for something. They were requesting a urine sample but wouldn’t give her privacy; she had to piss in front of a witness. We whispered to each other about what might have happened: Had she been in a drunk-driving accident? She was very angry and also looked as if she’d been crying; her eyes were quite red.
But we left the intake room and didn’t see her for a while. Because the staff needed some room, we went back to waiting room and ... waited. About two hours passed. Our recent experience with emergency rooms lately has been that it won't be a two or three hour wait. Expect five, six, or seven hours, if you're lucky. The night of our accident last year I think I was in the emergency room close to 16 hours before I got admitted.
I’d made the unfortunate fashion choice yesterday morning of a flippy little black skirt, with bare legs and sandals. It had been appropriate earlier. But now I was freezing, even with a sweater, and I tend to feel colder the more tired I get. Around midnight, I finally said to Rad that I needed to go home, change into something warmer, feed cats and come back. He stayed to see if they needed to tell him anything about his mom.
As I was heading to the car I saw the crazy girl again. She was outside with some EMTs and/or nurses. I couldn’t tell what was going on, but all of a sudden someone said, “There she goes!” She walked briskly past me. She was wearing heels and a dress; I guess she’d been out at some party or club earlier. I saw a nurse in scrubs following her, in no apparent rush ... maybe the nurse wasn’t allowed to touch her because that was security’s job. I went to the edge of the parking lot and watched the drama, or at least tried to.
The girl took off through the lot and then cut back toward the building and headed around the far corner. The nurse, who wasn’t moving very fast, was behind her. Finally a security guy came out and headed toward the parking lot. I can’t explain WHY I felt it necessary to get involved, but I said, “If you’re looking for that girl, she went THAT way,” and I pointed in that direction. It wasn’t my business. She could have been completely innocent ... but probably not.
They were all out of my view at that point, so I got into the car to drive home. Around the corner of building I saw a little circle of uniforms. I guess they'd caught her. Ms. Curious wishes she could have found out what the whole story was ...
I drove home, exhausted. I should not have been driving, being that tired, but I went and took care of the cats, changed, grabbed an extra jacket, then drove back. Mother-in-law was okayed for admittance two hours later; we finally went home and grabbed a few hours sleep. Neither of us was in a position to call in sick. I don't have any immediate deadlines and I actually would have called in sick, had it not been the day before the long holiday weekened. It always looks suspicious when you call in on those days.
We think MIL will be okay, at least for now. She should be getting out later today.
Monday, June 29, 2009
In my experience the reality usually surpasses the fantasy. I'll remember the rush I got from a painful scene, and I'll imagine myself much braver than I end up being in the face of the real pain. A good top will not let me off easy, and will push me through to the place I need to be -- and that means it is going to really hurt. It is hard to go through.
A trepidation rises up right before meeting someone. I always tell myself to try not to think about what's going to happen, and that "whatever he gives you, you will take -- and you will survive." ("Survive" used rather loosely, depending upon the condition of your bottom.)
When I lived and worked in South Jersey, I used to play with a dom who lived a little north of Philly. That meant leaving work on time (not always possible) and dealing with the traffic on I-95. Even if I left on time, inevitably I'd be watching the clock in the car, nervousness increasing as it became more and more obvious that I wouldn't make it there on time.
This particular dom was VERY intense and scary. He'd beat me hard, late or not, so my anxiety was legitimate. Truth was, deep down he was a "normal," caring, real person, so he always understood when I was late and never really got angry. He simply used it as an excuse to give me more of what I already needed.
But oh, the dread I always felt sitting in that car, the tingling, pulsing, fear-induced excitement that sent hot waves through me ...
These days I feel so jaded, compared to my relative innocence and newness back then. He was one of the first tops I'd played with who wasn't a boyfriend, and I was just beginning my serious exploration of the scene.
Now I don't have as many nervous butterflies. Sometimes they stay hidden away until the moment I walk in and see an implement that I hadn't expected. Then it suddenly hits me: "Oh, shit, this is going to hurt!"
Saturday, June 27, 2009
He also got right into my head space with his lecturing. He ordered me to stay on track with my diet and exercise or else. I was well-behaved at MSA -- only ate fruit -- but at the earlier parties I'd eaten some junk. I love cheese puffs and I ate quite a lot of them at the first party we'd attended. I was nervous about being late to the second party (a family birthday party) we had to go to, and I just sort of sat there eating the cheese doodles until we could officially say goodbye.
I had a good workout yesterday. As soon as I'm done this blog, and this cup of coffee next to me, I'm going for a walk and probably back to the handball courts. I had lots of fun practicing handball yesterday. I found out I was using the wrong ball, though. I had two different balls, and I checked in yesterday morning with a guy I know who plays a lot of handball. He said it was the other ball that I was supposed to be using. Oh, well.
Do I need to mention that one reason I have been wanting to start handball (other than it always looks like so much fun?) is that I'm hoping it'll toughen up my spanking hand and arm. Yesterday I dished out a couple of respectable spankings (what do you think, J? -- respectable enough for you? Em., don't even say it -- I KNOW I needed to go harder on you.) and I LOVE doing that but it can wear you out.
I've always admired a top who gives a good hand spanking. It's like the most natural thing to do in this scene. I don't know if I'll ever be one of those who can keep going and going and going, but I can certainly strive toward that lofty goal.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Of course I can only speak for myself. There is a certain quality I seek in a top. But I tend to approach this more often from the view of my submissive side. When I play, I want to play with someone who's got confidence — and even a degree of arrogance. I want someone who will take charge, even for a short time at a play party, but especially if we're doing a longer, more private scene.
Of course, there are times when I play and I'm not submitting — it may be more sensual play (like a "nice" flogging), or just physical impact play. I may be completely topping from the bottom; I may simply ask a top to strap me because that's what I feel I need that night. In those cases, the dominant or arrogant personality isn't necessary. But still, there has to be something there. I still need the confidence, the idea that he knows he is special, that IF he is turned down by one play partner it's not a big deal, he will shake it off and move on.
If, physically, a top is attractive (of course this is very subjective), he MAY have an advantage over someone else, all other things being equal. However, if I see a guy at a party who is topping only women who could be models, I doubt I would approach him. Who needs to be told she is too old, or too heavy, or not sexy enough?
But my main point is that it's not looks by any means that will guarantee women will play with a top. There has to be confidence, some experience, a sense of humor, and definitely a respect conveyed to me as an equal — before and after I submit.
Then there are personality traits that, if I see evidence of them, will definitely push me away from playing with a top. A few that come to mind are: 1) negativity. 2) obvious lack of self-confidence. 3) a dislike of or a bitterness toward women. 4) being overbearing and pushy (not the same as arrogance).
Monday, June 22, 2009
oh, I'm not really lazy -- I've been running around like crazy doing too many things. Time to focus...
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Am I the only one who has a hard time with getting work done on a Monday? I can't be, right? Everyone hates the start of the work week, I know. But this seems to go beyond a dislike for work. I feel mentally and emotionally incapable of performing, of settling down, getting organized ... incapable of remembering what my priorities are. I won't exaggerate and say that on a Monday I forget everything, but sometimes it feels close to that.
There is a certain part of my job that I don't like doing. This was one of those new duties that was added to my already full plate about six months ago, with little direction from the powers-that-be who had decided we NEEDED this thing done.
Ever get something like this at work?: "We want to create this new department for our publication. We're not exactly sure what the content should be, but we want you to figure that out, because ... you're so good at what you do. (see what I did there? -- I threw in a little compliment. In my management training they said compliments will motivate employees). Yes, you figure it out then come back and present your ideas. We'll tell you they look all right and give you the go ahead to write the stories. Somewhere close to deadline, we'll reject half of the stories, having suddenly decided they don't work -- and we'll express surprise when you argue for keeping them in. So we'll toss in another compliment about how good you are at what you do and how happy we are that you are working for us. That will make it all better while you go scramble for new stories."
Thing is, I AM good at what I do, but when you have a moron for a boss who can't make a decision to save her life, it gets really really hard to do your job. Do you know on Friday, my birthday, she said "happy birthday" to me about eight times? At one point she said "congratulations." I think I just blinked at that one.
Yesterday she asked me how I celebrated my birthday. I just looked at her and said, "You know, it really wasn't that big of a deal."
And it is now 6:38 and I have to go BACK to work for another day of joy. Of course I'd rather be getting a spanking. See what I did there? -- I threw in the word "spanking." That will make it all better.