Monday, July 27, 2009

Microfantasy Monday:Teacher

Mocrofantasy Monday (The rules again.)

"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...

Warning: Contains VERY naughty material

OK, second warning: DON'T follow the links if you DON'T want to witness rough sex on top of spanking and bondage.

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)

Wetcheck, anyone?

Have to get ready for work now. I'll write on my way there...

Sunday, July 26, 2009

This doesn't count

I want to blog, I want to write, my "writer's block" is only a synonym for "disorganization," "overbooking," and "fucking wasting time on other things that seem really important at the moment but in retrospect are bullshit."

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

blah day

I fear that anything I say today will just be negative. My allergies have been killing me for over a week (last week when I thought I was getting a cold it was probably just these allergies. I don't even want to go into how disgusting I feel. I'm taking 24-hour allergy pills, blowing my nose like crazy, doing the Neti-Pot at night. It doesn't end. I can't breathe well and have little energy for working out. I'm trying so hard not to overeat (although the cravings are driving me nuts).

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

Working on myself

I'm way behind on my blogging, and now I've gotten some sort of cold so I'm going to be even further behind on blogging. But before I go to bed I just wanted to pop in and write a couple lines.

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

The truth about spankings

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


Bondage by A. (Atoons2000); photo by Sir Mike

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

Random crap

Couple random notes today. I just heard that today is Consensual Spanking Day. It's too bad I found out so late, because I didn't have time to buy a card. But does this mean I'm supposed to go ask Rad to spank me now? What DOES one do to celebrate this auspicious occasion?

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

Long night

Had a night last night that started off fun then turned grueling. Our friend who works in a NY museum (one of my favorite museums) got us in after hours. We were able to avoid crowds while taking our time at the exhibits. And she is an expert at a lot of what we were looking at, so we had a private tour guide as well. It was wild to just be in there in the center of the quiet, empty halls.

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.