Post COPE Post

September 19th, 2015

It was a different event this year. A different crowd, a different feel, a different energy. He had a lot of requests, I was just planning on one scene with him. I demo-bottomed for one part of one class, attended one demo, and sat with him for part of a third. I did my usual service thing, cleaned his boots before opening ceremonies, got him drinks and food, lugged the gear, claimed furniture, and knelt/sat attentively for his scenes. It was a quieter weekend for us. The scenes went really well, for all of us. Four flogging scenes in a row Friday night, mine being the finale, and one more on Saturday. All very good and energetic scenes.

I usually do scene write-ups after big events, but I haven’t really got it in me this time. It was a good scene, it was what I wanted and needed. Flogging, paddling, even a jolt of electricity. There were screams and groans and tears, by the end I was floating high. But I don’t have the words for it. It wasn’t a journey of distinctive parts. I could probably identify most of the tools he used – floggers, the new butt hammer, thumper and paddle, and the stun gun. I can’t, however, remember the order, or the flow. It isn’t a stream of consciousness like I usually get in my head. It is more like a nice, hot, comfortable whirlpool of love, emotion, and connection. Except for the cross we used… that was fucking awkward. 😉 But we made it work, together.

I had another scene-ish thing this week, too. At practice, which in the near future, will be more like old practice once again. He was teaching people six-count. One of them was doing really well, so he gave her my back, to test just how well. They took turns, her more than him, and her aim was pretty good. Trying different floggers for weight and feel. It was nice to be doing that again. He even had me turn around to show her breast flogging. Doing quite the number on my chest between them.

Then he pulled out the dragontail, and they traded that off for a while. I pointed out to her at one point that she was the only person other than him who I let him me with that thing. He was teaching her to watch body language, processing and reactions. I only let her do it because he was teaching. She, who had not wanted to “hurt me” with the floggers, really got into laying red lines and spots with the tail.

Then she got into another conversation, and he proceeded to go through the toy bag to hit me with other things. He grinned at me at one point, “Do you feel thanked enough for your service this weekend?” He had not left a lot of marks on my during our scene at COPE, but he sure made up for it that night. Even going so far as to lay Uncle grid marks on my thighs at the end. Gods, I love him so much. I even got in some snuggles after, while he surfed the net, and we waited for the night to wind down.

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The Best Scene I Couldn’t Ask For

March 8th, 2015

The night started out fairly normal. I’d asked to spend time bootblacking, and he’d even brought an extra pair of boots. He was wearing his new knee-high boots, still fresh and mostly clean. I I just did a basic saddle-soap clean. Rubbing his feet and calves with brush and fingers and micro-fiber. A massage to get him relaxed and shiny for the night. He had things to do, so he left me with his work boots. These got the full laces-out, saddle-soap, and Black Gold treatment. He took them out to the truck when I was done, they were not needed tonight. I was spending the night in service to him, but when he got back, we would have a scene first.

“Pick out a piece of furniture for me to beat you with this.” He handed me the burlap/bamboo stick of awesome.

I walked about a bit, there were a couple open benches and crosses. I hovered near the larger of the two benches, with an eye on a cross, not sure of his intentions. When he returned, I motioned to the bench and pointed to the cross.

“Bench.”

So, I knelt on the bench, legs only having just recovered from the bootblacking, but this was kneeling up instead of down, so I’d be fine. I lay forward and he pulled out a piece of rope. Happy surprise. I haven’t been tied down to a bench in years. Left wrist first, pulled it down to a good place for me to grip and tied in through one of the holes, then over to the right wrist, down to another hole. Then he pulled out the short bit of bamboo.

Damn, bamboo gag, alright, I tell myself, don’t forget to bite down while he’s tying. In it goes and I grab it hard with my teeth, he ties it in good and tight, and then pulls the rope down my back. What the? Interesting. I keep my head down, not wanting to strain my neck and throat by having my head tied back. He takes it down to my waist, knots it and then splits the ropes, effectively tying my waist down to the bench. Nice.

I’m drooling already. Ugh! Stupid gag drooling. Ah well, nothing to be done about it. And it makes him happy to take that control from me. Time for the beaty stick.

Gods that burlap wrapped bamboo feels awesome. He beats my ass a few times, lands a few blows on my back. As long as I remember to breathe out when he hits my back, it’s all good. Otherwise it knocks it out of me anyway. I arch my ass up, keeping tailbone clear as he swings. Moaning happily around my gag.

Then he puts it down for a moment, and starts in with his bare hand. And I’m soaring, heart and body. I love spanking, I’ve been wanting a spanking. On a spanking bench even. But it is one of those things, one of those very sexual things for me, that I am still very embarrassed to ask for. Oh, but he knows me so well.

Some more beating stick, some more spanking, his hand sneaks up and slides under me, grabbing a nipple and making me scream. I’m writhing and moaning and soaring, and drooling. So much drooling. He comes round in front of me and just grins. More beatings and spankings. He grabs me by the hair, lifting my head back, using his free hand to wipe up my drool and smear it all over my face. Ugh, so messy. And then he’s beating my ass again. Gods I love him.

Spanking and beating, and nipple pinching. I’m moaning and screaming and writhing and drooling and dripping.

He pulls out a paddle, pulling louder screams and harder writhing. He wipes my drool all over my face again and again. There is more bare-handed spanking and more beaty stick. One hand reaches under me and lifts me up by the throat. I don’t even know what he’s hitting me with at this point, as I soar higher and higher.

The devil pop is out. He is in front of me, grinning that huge grin.

“Time for your penance. What do you think? Twenty?”

My eyes grow wide and all I can manage is whimpering. I owe him, for not being prepared, for not having a skirt the night before. Fuck. Yes. Anything, for all he has given me. I twist my hands around so I am now grabbing the rope instead of the bench. Digging the fibers into my hands, anchoring. But I cannot speak, I nod.

“Twenty?” I nod again. “You can’t say no to this grin can you?” I shake my head. “You better hold on. Ten for each cheek.” I whimper, laying my head down in my puddle of drool, clinging to the rope. “Ten on the flat side and ten on the rounded.” He goes back behind me.

The devil pop lands and I am screaming. He alternates cheeks and I alternate kicking my legs straight out. The first ten go fairly quickly. Five on each cheek, I barely have time for individual screams. The creator of the pop is called by my screams and they laugh above me.

The next ten are slower. Each hit pulling a scream all its own. Writhing and arching, until I can calm and reset myself. He waits for each one. Letting me scream it out.

Twenty strikes complete. I am pushing the gag forward with my tongue so I can swallow and get a breath. I don’t even remember if he spanked me any more after that.

Then he was untying the gag and I almost forgot to bite down. Put my jaw back in place as he untied my wrists.

“You’re such a mess.” We’re both grinning at each other. “Dripping wet at both ends. You good?”

“Very good, thank you!” I am flying high all night long, as I kneel or stand ready with the beaty stick, helping with or just observing his other scenes. So very grateful for all we have together.

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Friday 2: Corporal, Please

February 9th, 2015

We head to the cross, blocked off by chairs, another scene just ending. He has his bag of toys, and an assistant to hand him things. Strip off my shirt, but leave the skirt. I step up and find my grip, making sure my back is as flat as possible. The mop floggers, first, he tells her. Fitting headphones onto our heads, so we can have the old club in our ears.

He starts of nice, easy hits to get me going. Bobbing with the music, into florentine. Relaxing into our energy together. My eyes close automatically, ignoring the world, focusing just on him. They become stingy faster than I expect, but I just bear down into it, vocalizing and squirming at the hits. He rides the waves up and down, finding our rhythm. I have missed this.

He steps away a moment and returns with one of the little sticks. Smack and squeak, smack and squeak. He attacks my ass and thighs, and back. I squirm and squeal for a bit. He returns to floggers for a bit after that. Back into the rhythm, hard and pounding. Sinking into it.

Another change, and I scream, the loopy bat already. I hear her comment, You remember when she helped? And I laugh and Scream again. He turns me around, and I realize I’ve got my eyes closed, I’m not blindfolded, and I open them, to see his big grin. He hits my thigh, still marked from Wednesday. And then my breasts, loop around my nipple. Fuck! Ow! I squirm and he places my hands up. It is very hard to keep them up. And then she hands him the pony pecker.

He comes at me spinning, and I cringe and yelp, but the loopy bat is so much worse that this is almost a relief. Almost. Pounding and squealing. While he bounces and grins to music only we can hear. Then she hands him the deerskin and I melt. Big solid thuds on my chest, and then he tips a few and I yelp. Turns me back around again, for soldi thuds on my back. Oh that one is heaven. Even the handle pounding into me is lovely.

The unbreakable paddle is next, he pulls up the skirt for a clear shot. There is much screaming, and dropping, and climbing back up the cross. And trying to keep my ass out and then falling again. He steps away again. And comes back with the dragontail.

Snap, scream. Snap, scream. I am bouncing as he is striking. He puts my feet in the holes at the bottom of the cross. Don’t move them. Snap scream snap scream snap scream. Twisting and writhing, but keeping my feet still. Then he turns me around again, hands put up to hold them still. Snap scream snap scream snap scream. He decorates my breasts and thighs with whip kisses. Where are you at? Throat is raw. Just over the crest of the scene.

He pulls out the demon pop to finish me off. Pounding my thighs as I wail in pain. Turning them bright red and purple while he smiles at my pain. Pounding me until I’m done. Hugs and kiss and time for clean up. Such wonderful pain, just what I asked for.

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Things I Took Away from COPE:

September 18th, 2014

Friday Play Party:

Wooden paddles are awesome, and awful, and pretty, and evil, and OMFG they sting!

Giving him two targets, an alcove, and plenty of toys is a recipe for Amazing.

I need to quit comparing… no, really, knock it off. 😉

Friday Night:

A queen bed IS big enough for three, if you snuggle in tight. (I’ve fit three in a college-length twin, but apparently, I’m weird.)

Morning comes early without breakfast service.

Class 1:

“It depends…” and “Unless…” are fun ways to answer questsions, and much more informative than a simple maybe (if you follow them up with words instead of …).

Never assume you know the dynamic just by looking at the behaviors and postures.

Respect remains, long after the relationship ends, where friendship is maintained.

Class 3:

Partial suspension makes painful groundties even more painful.

Also, coconut rope sure looks evil.

Class 5:

Humiliation play is the temporary suspension of society’s rules by the topping party.

A person’s I AM pillars make for good humiliation fodder, just beware and build up their core pillars while you are at it.

I remember times he did this and how much more powerful it was.

Negotiation for Humiliation Play is different, you have to dig deeper. Into their pride, into their values.

“What is your relationship to Humiliation Play?” is easier to answer than “Do you like Humiliation Play?”

It is not weakness to need attention and affirmation after such play.

Saturday Evening:

Lack of cellphone usage requires more planning and better communication.

Dungeon energy is intoxicating, and rare meat and chocolate truffles make it even better.

After:

Drop sucks (energy, motivation, appetite, rational thinking…).

Also, COPE was Awesome! 🙂

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Two Hours of Bliss

September 17th, 2014

Getting ready for the party. She wants a long slow burn. Do we want beat together or separately? Together seems like a better chance of a longer scene, trading off. We go in search of furniture, but end up in an alcove, against a wall, side by side.

That wall becomes my friend, my anchor, my focus.

He has 8 new wooden toys, plus all his floggers, and the cocks, and the dragontail, and the stun gun. He uses them All.

We start with floggers, warming up the skin, sinking into our heads and our bodies. I am nodding, hands searching the wall for purchase, for best position, shoulders tense and tired. We find our stride, slow and steady.

He comes forward, pulls our shirts off our shoulders, for a better view. There is more moaning and screaming now as floggers hit bare skin. Arms trapped, my hands now have a place, forehead sometimes against the wall. Heels tapping and body rocking and head nodding with the strikes.

Skirts pulled down next, revealing asses for the new paddles. Screams and jumping, twisting, but keep facing the wall. Falling deeper inside now, there is some growling and more stomping.

He pulls giant rubberbands down our bodies and around our asses. Oh, the screaming and swearing, whimpering and arching. Stop turning! Am not trying to turn, am bracing against the pull, but I don’t argue. He is giggling so much.

Put in the corner, marinating, breathing, sinking, floating. And he is back.

Toys keep switching, turn around, time for thighs and breasts. The joy and huge smile on his face is excellent. I grin right back, she is sobbing. I freak out a bit at heavy breast hits, hard to kept my hands down. Wall sits. What? She shows, okay. Beating thighs. So good.

Zap. Zappity, zap. The stun gun makes me twitch, a lot. The horrible noise of death. Even him zapping her, I am whimpering and twitching. Choice time, stun gun or dragontail. She takes stun gun. I take the tail. Her first, I cringe and twitch in the corner, and then leaves her holding it. So many kisses of the tail. Nope, no blood. The shirt is slipping, so I let it drop. Oh really? He snaps my hip. Fuck you! What? Sir… many more snaps and much screaming.

Turns us into the corners. I am so high! The texture of the wall is super interesting, feels so good on my fingertips. This is how people describe ecstasy. My whole body is humming. And we are not done. Skirt is completely gone, when I did that happen? Before the shirt fell, I think.

Paddles, floggers, and whips, oh my! Up and down we go. Filling the space with screaming and pain and giggles and tears. Floating and shaking and now, I cannot see the texture of the wall. My eyes and words don’t work.

We just keep going. Sticks and cocks and paddles and popper and floggers and dragontail. Oh, his nails and hands feel so good on raw flesh. So deep in my body, gone from my mind. The wall is so comfy and nice to lean on.

How am I going to blog this, with pictures of all the toys? And now I am giggling again. Or a running description of the wall? Hey, look, I can see the wall again.

She is screaming and crying, and I am giggling. We are facing him again. He snaps the rubberband on my thighs. She is begging no. Knees. We don’t get it. On Your Knees. We both drop. Come here. We each curl up on an arm as we come down. I am feeling great. Happy pool of goo, covered in pretty red and purple. 

 

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Needs, Wants & Desires

June 27th, 2013

Last night, I was introduced to a new way to view things. I have talked before about wants and needs, but this is a different way to look at them. We were talking specifically about scening, and broke it up into Needs, Wants, and Desires. We were talking about Role Play, and the presenters set forth that if you know what you need, want, and desire, then you can find creative ways to do have good scenes. I found this concept very interesting to think about narrowed down to just scenes/play.

I will be addressing these, first, as a bottom, which is my preferred place in a scene.

Needs. What do I need in a scene for it to work for me? Without what, is a scene just pointless and flat? First, connection. I need to feel an emotional connection to my scene partner. That can be friendship, love, or even just attraction. Second, power exchange. I need there to be some giving and taking of control. This necessitates the third, trust. Without trust, there is no scene.

Wants. What do I want out of a scene? What, if I don’t have it, will make the scene feel off afterward? Bondage. Mental or physical. Rope, leather, chain. Stay there. Don’t move. Don’t let go. Keep quiet. Hands behind your back. Hands on the wall. I want the power exchange to result in control of my physical being in some manner. Intense sensation. I’m a masochist, I love intense sensation. Pain, pleasure, adrenaline, endorphins. If I’m blacking his boots, I don’t need him to grind the sole into my leg, but I certainly want him to and I feel like I missed something if he doesn’t. If I’m flying through the air, I want to feel the bite of the rope, and the adrenaline of the flight, and the pull when I spin. Floating can all soft and comfy just isn’t the same, fortunately hemp is good at biting in even in floaty scenes. Not to mention the feel of it sliding over my skin going on and off.

Desires. What are the figurative cherries on top? What makes a scene extra special? Spacing out. Reaching rope space, pain space, sub space. Often in that order. I love pushing through pain space to bliss out in subspace. Or using rope space to get to one of the others. Break down. Sometimes pushing through pain space doesn’t get me to sub space, it leaves me in a puddle of sobbing goo, and that can be awesome, too. Sexual intimacy. Orgasms, hand jobs, blow jobs, boot licking, sex. Even just cuddling up naked after a scene. That skin on skin contact to ride the waves back down.

So, how do these things play out. Let’s take last night’s play as an example. A dragontail and paddle scene.

Needs: connection, power exchange, and trust. He and I are very connected, in a loving relationship for over three years, and a friendship for even longer. I am submissive to him, and when he comes at me with that dragontail, it is definitely me giving up control to him to let him hit me with it. And I trust him absolutely, to not slice me open or hit me in the face.

Wants: bondage, intense sensation. When he comes at me with the dragontail, my hands go instinctively behind my back. When we play in that venue, I have to control my volume, or cover my mouth. When he’s hitting me, I have to try my best to be still. Pain? Oh hell yeah. Dragontail stinging and paddle smacking, awesomely intense sensations.

Desires: Last night, the cherry was pain space, into sub space. After a while, I was squeaking less and breathing more with the strikes. When I was done, I was all cuddling dopey sub spaced out for a few minutes. And I got some hugs and kisses to top it off, too.

Needs, wants and desires met.

Part Two

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Special Request

March 8th, 2012

And a special, bonus post, by special request of him, just in case two posts isn’t enough to fulfill your craving this week.

 

The movie was over, they hadn’t really watched it, too distracted by each other, but they had to go now. They had to get back to her dorm for bed check before midnight. The all-girls, private prep school she attended had very strict rules about being out of bed past curfew. She was eighteen years old, but her parents were not quite ready to let her go to college out in the real world, yet. So they’d sent her here, where she’d met the man of her dreams, and broke every rule to see him.

Heading back to the school, they crossed through a wooded area before the wide open grounds. He grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her neck. She leaned back against him happily. They had a few minutes before they had to be back, she decided.

“You’re such a bad girl.” He breathed into her ear.

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at his mock stern tone.

“Wandering through the woods at this time of night. Good girls are all in bed. But you’re out with a man in the forest.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know what we do with naughty girls, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” She shivered as his belt slid free.

He turned and put left foot up on a fallen tree and bent her over his knee. Pulling up her skirt, and down her panties, he exposed her bare ass. Stroking it with his folded belt, he put his hand on her back to hold her steady. Then brought the belt to bear.

She yelped, and he swung again. Her yelping soon turned to moans of pleasure as she writhed over his leg. He reddened her pale skin, with harder and harder strokes. Until she began to beg.

“Please, oh please, sir.”

“Please, what?”
“Please, I want you.”

“Oh?”

“Please, sir, please.”

He stopped and let her go, she dropped to her knees in front of him. Pulled his pants open the rest of the way and eagerly took him in her mouth. He gasped and entwined his fingers in her hair, guiding her eagerness. She moaned as he groaned, and when they were done, he pulled her to her feet, and held her tight.

After a moment to breathe, they were off again, racing towards the dorm, and up the fire escape to here room. Her roommate was in the infirmary for the night, so they had it all to themselves. She shooed him under the bed until bed check came through a few minutes later, and then pulled him back up. Collapsing on the bed, he pulled her close.

“Such a bad girl, pulling a man’s pants down out in the open like that.”

“Yes, sir.” She expected him to be sleepy, but he seemed far from it.

“And now, you’ve snuck him into your bedroom, into a girls only dorm.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sat up and pulled her over his lap, keeping her skirt down to muffle the noise, he took his hand to her this time. Spanking the already tender flesh. She buried her face in the blankets to cover her moans. She squirmed against his lap, but he held her tight, spanking her tender bottom until her moans got so loud, the blankets could not stop them.

“Please, sir, oh gods, please sir.”

“Yes?”

“Please, take me, sir.”

He gave her a few more swats that nearly made her scream before flipping her around and back onto the bed, shedding his clothes and then pulling her free of hers. He joined her back in bed and covered her mouth with his to keep her moans of pleasure from waking her dorm mates while he rode her to exhaustion.

 

The alarm went off early the next morning and she shooed him under the bed again for morning check. Then she got ready and went down to breakfast. He snuck out the window while everyone was eating and she spent the rest of the day in a happy haze. Until the end of her last class, when the teacher stopped her.

“Headmaster wants to see you. Come with me.”

He led her towards the dorm, however and up to her room, where she saw the headmaster waiting. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she dreaded what was to come. He must have been seen leaving.

“Come in. Tell me, is anything amiss?”

“No, headmaster.”

“Is anything missing? Anything at all?”
“No, headmaster.” She knew better than to lie. If she said yes, her boyfriend would be arrested for theft.

“Strange. A man was seen climbing out of this window this morning, during breakfast. We assumed he was a thief. Are you sure that nothing is missing?”
“Yes, headmaster.”

“Did you know the man who left here this morning?”
“Yes, headmaster.”
“I see. And did you know he was in your room?”
“Yes, headmaster.”

“Would you mind telling me what he was doing here?”
“Yes, headmaster.” She blushed furiously and glanced at the teacher in the doorway.

“Thank you, that will be all.” The headmaster dismissed the teacher and closed the door before turning back to her. “What was he doing here?”

She stared at his shoes, too embarrassed to answer.

“We could continue this conversation in my office, with a cane, if you would prefer?”

“No, headmaster. I.. I invited him up, headmaster. We had a date last night and I brought him back here.”

“I see. Tell me about it.”

“We… we went to the movies, and then we came back here to sleep.”

“Is that all? You saw a movie and you slept?”

“No, headmaster.”

“Tell me.”

“We… um… on the way back, he put me over his knee and spanked me with his belt and I went down on him. After bed check, he spanked me again, with his hand, and then we had sex before we went to sleep.”

“I see. You like that do you?”

“Yes, headmaster.” She was mortified, but lying would only make things worse.

“But you chose to continue the conversation here and not in my office with the cane?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t really like canes, sir.”

“I see. Well, let’s see how he did, then. Turn around and show me your bottom.”

What could she do, she turned around, bent over and lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties.

“It’s barely red at all. He must not have tried very hard.” The headmaster patted her bare ass. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, headmaster.”

“By rights, you should be expelled and a letter sent home to your parents.”

“Yes, headmaster.”

“But that won’t do anyone any good, so how about this. You’ll march down to my office with me, and I’ll redden that ass of yours properly, you can even thank me for it, like you did him in the woods. And once I’m satisfied, we’ll forget this ever happened. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, headmaster.”

“Go on then.” He pulled her up and opened the door, motioning her to go ahead of him.

She walked down the hallways, her face bright red and her eyes on the floor. Those she passed knew she had been caught out, but very few of them knew what for. When they got to his office she went inside. He followed and locked the door behind him. Walking to his desk, he pulled off his belt and put it on the left side, then pulled out a paddle and put it in the middle and then a cane on the right hand side.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl.” He told her and sat down, motioning her over. “Take off that skirt, it will only be in the way, and the panties.”

She did as he instructed and then he pulled her over his lap. He started with his bare hand, spanking her equally bare ass.

“This is for sneaking out last night.”

He started out soft and built up, harder and harder. Gauging her moans and squeals, occasionally checking to see how wet she was. She squirmed on his lap, embarrassed but increasingly aroused. He spanked her harder and harder until she was gasping and screaming for him.

“Please, headmaster, please!”

“Please, what?”

“Please, stop and let me thank you.” She begged, remembering his words.

He gave her a few more swats and then let her up. She dropped to her knees under his desk and fumbled his pants open. His erection was waiting. She took him eagerly, and he let her, fingers in her hair, but stopped her short of finishing him off and pulled her roughly back over his lap.

He picked up the belt next, but paused, giving them both a few moments to breathe.

“This is for having oral sex in the school forest.”

He swatted her ass with the belt, pulling a gasp, and then another. He beat her already red ass into a deeper shade of crimson. She moaned and writhed harder against him, but he held her tight. His strokes slower than the first spanking. Enjoying the fullness of her reaction. When he had her screaming again and begging, he let her up a second time. And she sunk to the floor, moaning against his cock as she sucked on him.

He only gave her a few minutes this time before pulling her back up and picking up the paddle.

“This is for sneaking a boy into the dorm.”

He struck hard and firm, leaving it against her ass as she cried out. He smiled down at her. Loving the sound of the paddle the most. He struck again, and again. She arched and cried and tried to get away. Her ass sore and bruised already. He counted down from ten, and she screamed with each one. Then he dragged her to her feet and bent her over the desk, picking up the cane.

“And this is for having sex in your dorm room.”

He took the cane to the back of her thighs and her highly abused ass. Counting down from twenty, he held her in place by her hair. Giving her time to process each strike. Screaming into the desk and stamping her feet. She cried as she dug her fingers into the wooden edge.

When he was done, he pulled her back down to the floor beneath his desk and she took him a third time, this time to completion. And then collapsed into a puddle on the floor. He redid his pants, put away his tools and let her come back to herself before sending her back to her room.

“Next time you want a spanking, just ask.” He said as he opened the door and sent her on her way.

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Santa Claus is Coming to Town

December 22nd, 2011

A silly little story for the holidays.

“Come here, young lady, sit on Santa’s lap.”

He didn’t look like any Santa she had ever seen before. Sure he was dressed in a fur-lined red hat, and black fur-lined boots, but that’s where the similarities stopped. He had on tight red leather pants and an unbuttoned red leather vest. And his short trimmed beard was far from white. Oh, his eyes twinkled with merriment, but his stomach certainly did not resemble jelly.

She walked forward slowly, chewing on her lower lip, eyes darting from the floor up to him and back down again. What was he playing at? She sat down on his knee, tugging belatedly on the hem of her very short red silk dress.

“There now, have you been a good little girl this year?”

“I…” She looked into his eyes, crinkling with laughter and made a decision. “I’ve been good at it.”

“Oh-ho-ho. Have you, now?”

“Yes.” She sat up straighter.

“Good at what, precisely, little girl?”

“At being naughty, Santa. Isn’t that why you’re here?” She grinned at him as he laughed again.

“Yes, yes it is. You’re right at the top of the naughty list, and I thought a personal visit might be in order.”

“I’m flattered. The top of the list, you say? Very flattered.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed herself against his chest.

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” He snaked one hand up her back and settled it on her neck. “But I haven’t come for a demonstration.” He spun her around and over the knee she had been sitting on, and lifted her skirt. “I didn’t think coal would quite get the message across this year.”

She squirmed and spluttered, but he held her fast with his left hand as his right lifted the back of her dress and then pulled down her black silk panties. The first smack sent shivers through her body and she yelped. He did not pause, but when straight to his work, spanking her harder and harder, til her yelps turned to moans and her moans turned to tears. She writhed in his lap, not daring to put her hands behind her, crying as her ass turned as red as his clothing.

“Oh, and I must not forget your present.” He paused and reached into the sack beside him, pulling out a wooden paddle. Engraved on one side was the word Naughty and on the other, Nice. “Just so you remember.”

He flipped the paddle so that Nice was facing her already bruise bottom and brought it down hard. She screamed and flailed, but he held her tightly and brought it down again, in exactly the same spot. Over and over, creating a purple outline of Nice in the reddened flesh. She slumped in his lap, sobbing but accepting as he took a couple more shots, just to make sure it would last. Then he let her slide to the floor, and kneel with her eyes on his boots.

After a few minutes, she collected herself and looked up at him. “Thank you, Santa.”

“You’re welcome, young lady. Now, which list will you be on next year?”

“With that paddle, Santa, I think I’ll try and make the top of Both lists.”

He laughed and scooped her up into a hug and a deep kiss.

Merry Christmas, Happy Yule and whatever other holidays you may celebrate, may they be filled with love, laughter and kinkiness.

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Lessons and Going Home

July 7th, 2011

Been a busy time lately, sorry for not posting last week. Here’s what should have gone up, a silly little post of lessons learned.

Had a good time at practice, and learned a few lessons. Let me share them with you.

 

  1. The correct answer to “Do you think I can hit your nose with this Dragon Tail?” is “Yes, I do, but please don’t.” instead of nodding and standing very still, hoping he’ll just snap it in front of you a few times.
  2. Dragon Tail strikes to the mouth a) hurt like hell, b) are scary, and c) leave the area feeling indented. The first two made me cry instantly, the third was a very odd sensation.
  3. I am not fond of the use of an extra large shoe horn as a paddle.
  4. “For love and service” is a good phrase that I learned from hubby’s girlfriend, to describe why one might still take the shoe horn even if one doesn’t particularly like it. I agree with these reasons, but also tend to take things because the after affects are what I’m really after.
  5. Keep still – Don’t move the target he is aiming at. I (re)learned this rule, and also that I really can do it when properly motivated.
  6. Canes on the top of the feet/toes hurt a helluva lot.
  7. The toe next to my big toe acts as a fulcrum to a cane, and thus gets the most bruised.

 

This past weekend, I went home. Well, to the closest thing I have to “going home.” I went to visit a few friends from High School. One who I still consider one of my best friends, and a couple that I still see/talk to on occasion, and their respective families and friends. Hubby and his girlfriend were going up, too, though they were going elsewhere the first evening.

The couple was hosting a 4th of July picnic. I didn’t know who was going to be there, and spent the drive wondering if maybe some others from school would be. I was also pretty sure I had not spoken to them since I began this journey into kink and poly. I had some Dragon Tail kisses on my thighs and some bruises on my calves. It was warm out, but I decided that the marks were a little too much and wore jeans. Hubby and his girlfriend were just dropping me off, so I wasn’t really worried about questions, but we did discuss that she was just a friend for the weekend in reference to anyone from home.

People didn’t question my jeans, especially as the weather was rather windy and stormy, and no one asked about the random girl in the car. But I felt uncomfortable. I was careful what I said around everyone, but my best friend who was thankfully there, as well. I only made one poly-oriented comment, and no one took it seriously. As I stared into the campfire, later in the evening, I found my shoulders tensing quite badly. I was around a lot of people I didn’t know and I was having to hide who I was. It was good to see my friends, but I did not like putting that mask back on.

That night and the next day were somewhat better. The marks had faded a little more, and I was only going to be around my best friend and her parents, so I could wear shorts while kayaking. Hubby and his girlfriend would be there, too, but though my best friend knows the truth, her parents easily accepted that she was just a friend. Her dad did ask once, possibly due to the high heeled boots in the car, but accepted the story I gave him. The crowd of strangers that were expected to canoe with us got ahead and we never caught them, so that stress stayed away. I was still wearing a mask this day, but it was less strenuous than the night before.

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Beaten in/to Submission

June 16th, 2011

They tell me that I don’t let things go. I don’t like letting things go. I’ve let too many things go already. Not Things – hubby will tell you I purge junk from our home far more than he approves of, usually followed or preceded by moving, which he also thinks we do too much of. But I don’t let of of people very easily. I don’t let go of negative feelings very easily – I tend to bury them if I don’t get them out quickly and they come back to haunt me. I do this with stress, too. I have very wonderful support and help solving problems and rectifying situations, but I hold onto the stress. I can’t solve other people’s problems, but I hold onto the stress created by the problem. Occasionally, it becomes too much. I am set adrift by my own emotions and hormones and I start drowning in the stress. At times like these, I run to the woods, I yearn for campfires, I want to cry, I want someone to draw the stress out of me, I want to be beaten to a pulp or tied too tight into a little ball.

Last week, I ran to the woods. I found quiet in the trees. But it was cold, and there was marching band practice nearby, and an organ and a piano. So, after watching some black-winged damsel flies for as long as I could stand it, I went for a drive in the country. Going a little too fast, but not dangerously so, and enjoyed the sunshine and the peace of having nowhere to be.

This week, I was beaten in/to submission.

When I was meditating early in the evening, my brain was wandering. Should I be Miss? Aren’t toy and I fairly equal come down to it on Monday night? Does Miss disrupt my subspace? Where do I find my submission to him these days? In my meditation, in the rubber bands, in my clothing choices, in my service to him. And lately, in our Monday nights, it has been a growing opportunity for subspace again. Something to talk about when renegotiation comes up.

He, toy and I played a bit. Seeing if I could keep a rubber mallet type thing going on her ass while he smacked us both with various things. Dragon tails kissing our flesh as we squealed. An electric flyswatter that had us whimpering before he even got near. A wicked stick. A paddle. Even the cricket bat that I immediately knelt up to receive. Then the order to snuggle while he had a conversation elsewhere.

Hubby’s girl was practicing flogging while hubby worked on my laptop. He was watching and called me over to be a practice bottom for her. Shirt off, bra off, glasses off, hold the cross. Show her where her aim was. A few strikes, she was nervous, he showed her his strikes, and they practiced a bit more. I love watching him teach. This is one skill I haven’t tried to pick up yet, as a top, anyway, though I occasionally ponder it’s physical benefits, if not my ability to top a flogging scene. Then he leaves her to her own devices and turns to me.

He struck hard and fast, just heavy, short leather floggers, though I could have sworn he’d grabbed the rubber mops. I clutched the cross and screamed and groaned and gasped and moaned. He dropped me fast, and I pulled myself back up the first few times. In tears so quickly. He changed rhythm, backed off, came on. Then I dropped to my knees and he kept going, so I curled up, offering my back, but unable to stand and he kept going. I worried that he would stop because I wasn’t standing, but he kept going.

I knelt, I crumbled, I twisted, turned and cried. He backed off for a moment and I dragged myself back up the cross. On he came, three strikes and I was down again. And he kept going. This time I managed to kneel properly a few times, between curling up into a ball and sprawling on the floor. Always conscious of where he was and trying to keep my back offered to him. I could not stand, but I did not want him to stop.

Toy was being teased for wanting to rescue me, just a little.

“Do you want rescued, Miss?”
“No, Toy!”

“Well, if you want more, you have to get up.” He chimed in. “If you fall again, we’re done.”

I got to my knees, not good enough, up onto the cross. Clutching it for dear life as he tore back into me. Screaming and shaking the cross, I don’t know how many I lasted, it was more than three, but not by much. I fell again, in tears, but not disappointed. Toy was there, against my side. I caught a breath, thanked her and asked for a moment alone. She went to get water, and I cowered for a moment longer, and then knelt properly, before the cross and just let myself cry. Just tears, no remorse, no upset, just tears.

I notice hubby’s girl didn’t stop the entire time. With all my screaming and thrashing right beside her, she kept on practicing. Good on her.

“Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, so much.” Hugs and kisses.

Toy is nearby, with water. I go to her, snuggle and stroke her hair. I won’t go to the bed yet, I’m not ready to collapse. Stubborn, I drink the water, waiting for the shaking to start. Teasing and tickling for a few moments. Coming back to reality before I crash.

And I do. We go to the couch, she wraps me up and holds me tight while the cold and shivers run through me. It’s late though, so we’re up again in no time, packing up and heading home.

So, why did I say I was beaten in/to submission? What do I mean? I was flogged while in my submissive state. I was in subspace, standing there half dressed at the cross. I was in subspace, offering him my back, as best I could, no matter where I was. I was in subspace, unaware of the rest of the dungeon unless it intruded quite loudly. I was also beaten to submission. To points when I didn’t know if I could take anymore and let him decide. And eventually, to the point where I gave up completely, without any regret that I had not gone far enough. He even commented later that I’d given up. I agreed, he was tipping the floggers a lot and the sting became too much. But I was not disappointed in myself like I might have been other times. I went as long and as far as I could that night, and he stayed with me the entire way, taking every bit that I would give him.

Some people ask why I get flogged, more especially, why I sometimes get flogged like that. No long and gentle warm up, no tender cool down, no rhythmic six count to the music. Just rough and tumble, heavy strikes, sharp strikes, relentless strikes. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the former, too. But the answer is because sometimes, I need it. I need a cathartic release so powerful and strong, that nothing else will do. I need the stress to be ripped violently from my body because I cling to it so tightly that I can’t just let it go. I am so grateful that he is able to do that for me. And I love the marks and the residual pain that keep me glowing for days after.

So, readers, what do you do to relieve/release stress? Kinky or vanilla?

 

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