A Bad Spanker

Well, the kitchen is covered in chocolate and chickpeas, the dishwasher is on for the third time tonight, and the fridge is working overtime. But the main thing I've discovered tonight, apart from the fact that my short term memory is really appalling today (read next piece of cooking instruction, forget it in the time it takes me to turn round, repeat ad nauseam), is that I would make a rubbish spanker.
I had to whip egg whites for the chocolate mousse. For some reason, despite having an electric whisk, I chose to do this by hand. I think I hadn't used the electric one in so long I'd forgotten I owned it until it was too late. Anyway, it was so hard to keep on whisking, and so painful! If I was a spanker, I'd give up after about 30 seconds, pleading tiredness in my arm! Seriously, how do you guys do it?! I'm starting to have a new found appreciation for your strength of forearm!

New Year's Eve - Cooking and (De)Kinking

I've invited eight friends round on New Year's Eve. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the fact that I cater so rarely I can't remember the last time I cooked for guests, combined with a week's worth of illness resulting in the place being an even more disgusting mess than usual, mean that I'm seriously doubting the wisdom of this decision. Of course, it will be all be alright on the night, but needless to say, right now I should be cleaning, not blogging. I should also be checking fridges and larders for ingredients, writing a shopping list, and, most importantly, de-kinking. Two friends coming know about my, um, "other life", but the other six might not be quite so at ease with that knowledge. So I need to make sure I rescue all the "Spank Me" decorations from the Christmas tree, hide the implements, move the spanking porn, and make sure the bed is free of anything incriminating as that's where the coats are going.
This is actually the first time I've really had people round in a while (I'm not anti-social, just never in to receive visitors..!) so the first time I will have had to "properly" dekink. That, combined with the cooking for eight malarkey and the cleaning means that the de- I'm most in need of right now is a de-stressing spanking!
Ah well, it will be alright on the night.
I hope.

Christmas Startles

So I'm sitting in the corner, minding my own business, reading through one of my Christmas presents, when I hear my mother say "I know someone who does caning".
What?!?!?!
After trying very hard not to fall off my chair in shock, I eavesdropped a little harder and realised she was talking about caning chairs. Phew.

Then later, I had proof positive that my sister in law is most definitely *not* kinky. (Though I still do wonder about my brother.) She was telling me about how she had been dealing with some expenses for a client, and on the charges was a "playroom". She had no clue what this was, it seems (I had to resist at this point standing up and shouting "I know, I know!") and so called the place in question to find out what a playroom was, and was terribly shocked to find out that it was a dungeon, in a fetish bed and breakfast. I had to sit there with an equally shocked and innocent look on my face, going "Oh gosh, really?!", in response.
What I really wanted to ask was the exact details of this playroom, as it turns out it's in the town where I work. I figured that might arouse a little too much suspicion though, so it's off to Google I go to see if I can find out more ;-)

Christmas Eve

It's Christmas Eve. I love Christmas Eve. It's a special time of year, and I will never quite forget that wonderful sense of magic that pervades everything when you are a child. The excitement, when you still believed in Father Christmas, as you headed off to bed, joyfully anticipating what delights the morning would bring. In some ways, I hated Christmas Eve night. I was never an insomniac, but on Christmas Eve could I get to sleep? No siree, and when I eventually did, I'd end up waking up every hour or so, thinking, it MUST be morning now, and of course if wasn't. The night seemed endlessly long.
But dawn would come eventually, and I'd wake up and realise with delight that it was now "late" enough in the morning (i.e. past six am!) for me to open the stocking which had magically appeared on my door knob. This, of course, was put there by my parents in an effort to keep us quiet and out of the way until a slightly more reasonable hour. Like, um, 7am. Which is when we were allowed to go and wake them up and show them what Father Christmas had left us. This backfired miserably though, the first year they tried it. I believe I was about 5 years old. I woke up at 3am, saw I had a stocking, and rushed in to tell Mum and Dad all about it. Not quite how they had planned it!
So once the stocking was opened, with it's little traditions like novelty soaps, and puzzle books, it would be late enough to go downstairs. We'd wrap up warmly and head down to the living room, push open the door, and discover that under the tree, the floor, which had been bare the previous evening, was now covered in presents! Oh my goodness me, the thrill of discovering that the presents were there. I can feel that anticipation again as I write this. Of course, opening them was wonderful as well, but the best thing was that initial excitement of seeing them there.
As I grew older, the anticipation of receiving presents grew less, and the joy of giving to people I loved became more. Sleep on Christmas Eve became easier, especially once I started going out to the pub in the evenings... in fact by the time I hit my late teens, it was my Father waking *me* up, standing outside the door threatening to set the cat on me unless I got out of bed and came downstairs to open the presents. But even though age brought maturity (well, supposedly!), deep inside me is left a little bit of that child who couldn't sleep on Christmas Eve, and who would practically be sick with excitement: and to be honest, I hope she never leaves!
So, Happy Christmas to everyone who is celebrating, and may there be a little bit of magic in your lives tonight.

In A Grump

I'm feeling a little bit better, thank goodness. Unfortunately I've reached that stage where I'm well enough to not be lying around on the sofa dozing, but not well enough to really actually be doing anything. So I'm bored and very, very grumpy. I have 60 odd TV channels, but there's nothing decent on an of them. My concentration levels are really not up to watching a DVD yet. I could decorate the tree, or finish wrapping the presents, but really, bleugh.
So I sit here, in a grump, swapping between surfing, doing sudoku, and making my chest play amusing wheezing tunes. Oh the fun.
Luckily there is nobody around for me to be in a grump with. I'm not very good at being sick around other people. I either end up bursting into tears lots or being in a foul temper, so I'm generally much better off left to suffer alone!
On which note, I will go back to sitting in front of the TV, flicking through my plethora of rubbish TV channels, and generally being mad at the world.
Have a good day, everyone :-D

Update: It's Saturday evening. I did decorate the tree in the end, so now it's looking pretty and festive, complete with my Spank Me baubles (courtesy of Smudge) and candy canes. And I'm curled up on the sofa watching the Muppet Christmas Carol, so things are considerably more right with my world. I still feel quite rubbish, but the Muppet Christmas Carol can help an awful lot with raising ones spirits!!

Sick, yet still craving...!

I'm sick. (Well yes, you all knew that!). No, not that sort of sick: nasty, fluey, virusy sick. Can barely summon up the energy to move from bed to bathroom to living room sort of sick. And yet I'm still craving a spanking. Why the hell is that?? I'd be more likely to fall over than bend over right now and yet I still want to be spanked. Stupid dumb head.

Help for Olivia

My friend OliviaManners is currently in the process of finishing an MSc, and is asking for some help from the blogging community, to answer a short, anonymous survey.
You can find the request on her blog: http://awelldisciplinedgirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/your-help.html

She is doing a study into sexual expression, a very interesting subject for us in the spanking community. Please head over to her blog, and take a few minutes to fill in the survey :-)

Thank you!

Bring Back The Birch

I was clearing up yesterday (trying to locate the hairbrush of doom, so Smudge will stop nagging me!), and I picked up the gardening section from the Saturday paper a couple of weeks ago. Possessing no garden, and no interest in gardening, I was about to "file" the paper in the recycling bin, when the headline below the fold caught my eye:
"Bring Back The Birch"
Huh? Say what? Slightly closer examination of the article (the first time I've EVER read the gardening section) revealed that they were, of course, talking about birch trees, and how beautiful they were in winter.
What a shame ;-)

Candy Cane Knickers

I opened a Christmas present yesterday, from the lovely Smudge, and it was three pairs of very cute knickers, all lovely, but I think the winner of the three pairs has to be to ones with the candy canes all over them!! Of course this should not be taken as a sign to anyone that I want any other sort of cane anywhere near my bottom, thank you very much!

Back to the new car - I felt that a new car should have new things to go on the key ring, so I bought a Bombay Duck enamel hairbrush charm, very cute and subtle. The mini flogger I bought to join it today is decidedly less subtle. I will have to make sure I don't leave my car keys lying around on my desk at work any more!

Speaking of hairbrushes, Smudge says she want to borrow the hairbrush of doom. Quite why, I don't know, possibly because she's lost her mind. I'm seriously considering letting her though. I mean, she's very sweet, so it's hard to deny her something she wants. In all fairness, if it was something I *didn't* want to give her, e.g. my flogger, it would be perfectly easy to deny her! But in this scenario, if I can get away with using that as an excuse to get the hairbrush the hell out of my house, who am I to pass up such an ideal opportunity?!

The Bad Friend

Am I losing vanilla friends? I hope not. I've not lost any friends because I've told them about my new interests, though I suppose I may at some point. I worry that I'm not making enough time for my vanilla friends though. This new life of mine is time consuming, and it's not like I had no social life to begin with. I was always madly busy, and now I'm even more so. There's new people to meet, new things to experience, and having denied my kinky side for so long I'm keen to explore it fully now. But time doesn't magically appear where there was none before. Something has to give and at the moment that seems to be catching up with my non-kinky friends.
It's hard, because they are lovely people and don't deserve to be neglected by me. I feel like I'm turning into the sort of person I always hated - the sort who drops all their old friends the minute they have a new person or new interest in their life. I have no time for people with no loyalty, but that seems to be what I'm turning into. I feel like I've dropped, albeit unintentionally, my vanilla friends for my new kinky friends, and that does not make me feel good about myself. I need to reconnect with my old friends and not be the person who dumps them for a new crowd.
It's hard though, when you have to have conversations like this:
"So, what have you been up to?"
Answer 1:
"Well, I've discovered I'm into spanking, I've met a whole crowd of new kinky friends, I'm having the time of my life and I'm happier than I've ever been."
Yeah, I don't think so, so it will more likely be answer 2:
"Oh, not much."
I long to be myself with everyone.

Ipods

I've got a new car. It's fabulous and amazing and I love it. The thing I love most about it is that it has an ipod connection. So I get to play my ipod in the car and sing along like a loon. I somehow managed to set it to shuffle today, but that meant I ended up listening to two of my all time favourite songs in quick succession. First was Completely Pleased by Semisonic which is one of the *best* songs about sex, and then by way of a total contrast, Birdhouse In Your Soul by They Might Be Giants, which is an amazing song, but, to be frank, completely nutty. Even more randomly, the next one was Oh Come All Ye Faithful. Don't you love the randomness of shuffle functions? Though I've just had a *very* rude song title related thought that I won't share with you for fear of shocking your delicate sensibilities.
Did I mention my new car is wonderful, by the way?

Stupid again

I bought *someone* a Christmas present.* Well in all fairness, it's theoretically for both of us, but I suspect one of us might enjoy it more. Anyway, it got delivered to work today, making me nearly die of embarrassment, even though there is no way anyone could have known its contents. I opened it when I got home.
I think I might send it back again.
Looking at it, the main thing going through my mind is the question "what on earth possessed you?" I have no answer.

*The exact nature of which I won't reveal, for fear of spoiling the surprise.

Jeans

I am generally a very girly girl. I wear skirts and dresses pretty much all the time. I wear trousers maybe once a week, jeans even less often. When it comes to spankings, I much prefer skirts. Having a skirt flicked up out the way is, well, hot! Especially a girly, flirty, full skirt. I've always thought that a spanking where I was wearing trousers would not be the same, and that having my trousers pushed down would not have quite the same frisson.

However, I had an unexpected spanking this week, and I happened to have been wearing jeans to work that day (it was a Friday, I wouldn't normally get away with jeans at work!) so, that evening, when George pulled me towards him, the first thing he needed to do was unbutton my jeans. The surprising thing is that it really made me feel quite vulnerable, much more so than having a skirt pushed out of the way. I suppose there is something more exposing, for want of a better word, having your jeans unbuttoned and pushed down before you go over someone's lap, rather than a skirt pushed up when you are already there. I think I might wear jeans a bit more.

Well, yes...

Some people have a talent for stating the blinking obvious.
George for example:
"Eliane, you need a spanking"
Well, yes... no s*** Sherlock, I *always* need a spanking. I'm a kinky girl. The days when I don't need a spanking could probably be counted on the fingers of one hand.
I'm rolling my eyes right now. Just don't tell him that.

Wimpiness, or maybe not

I'm a wimp. That's the primary word that comes to my mind when I think of myself in relation to spanking. Wimpy, wimpy wimp. I can't take pain, I can't process it, deal with it, accept it.
I've freaked out enough times when being caned/spanked with the hairbrush/whatever for my identification with "wimpiness" to have become an integral part of what I feel about spanking.
Over the last couple of weeks though, I've started to wonder whether I am such a wimp after all? I posted about a spanking I had from George, and several people said that it was "quite a spanking".
Then this week, we had some unexpected time together, and he used the cane on me, and I took 18 strokes. In all fairness, not all of them were full strength, but six were pretty darn hard. And true, I didn't stay down all the time like a nice submissive young lady (mostly because I'm neither nice, nor submissive, and I'm not really young any more either..!) but on the hand I also wasn't crying, screaming and dancing round the room like a loon.
So maybe I'm not actually a wimp after all. I often read blogs and stories thinking "Good Lord, I could never take anything like that", but it's not beyond the realms of possibility that there is someone reading here thinking the same thing about me. What a strange thought ;-)
So for now I'm going to put the wimp label aside, and try and find a new one. Part time wimp, possibly.

Merlin

Watching Merlin on BBC1... Uther Pendragon (the incredibly hot Anthony Head) to Morgana, his ward, who was arguing with him: "Mind yourself or I *will* restrain you!" OH. MY. GOD. I nearly passed out right there and then.

Another Shopping Trip

I was out Christmas shopping, with the rest of the world apparently, and I walked into a new gift shop in town. It turned out to be a wonderful source of spanko fodder. The first thing I came across (and bought) was a wonderful book, entitled Homework For Grown-Ups: Everything You Learnt At School... and Promptly Forgot. Now I've never done any school role play, but a girl can fantasise, and this book has sections on all sorts of subjects, maths, grammar and literature, sciences, history, and each section, ends, get this, with a test paper! Ah, the possibilities.
In addition, the shop sold candy canes for the Christmas tree, a mini table tennis set, complete with mini ping pong rackets, charm bracelets and key rings with a selection of charms to put on them, including hairbrushes, and, my personal favourite, old school metal prefect badges, saying a variety of things, including your normal captain/prefect/head girl ones, but also a pink one with Princess on, and one with Sinner on. Those were to two I was torn between, but in the end I decided to behave, and not buy either. Doesn't mean I won't go back tomorrow and get one though!

The thing I want to know, though, is this: Will I ever again be able to go shopping and not spot something spanking related?!

Canes

I don't understand canes. Let's be honest, they aren't exactly fearsome looking implements. They are little bits of wood. They aren't big, generally (or at least not the one used on me), they aren't heavy, they aren't thick, and yet the mere thought of one sends shivers down my spine, and not in a good way. How can something that looks so innocuous hurt so much?
Something like a belt or a tawse looks much more scary and yet, in actuality doesn't cause anything like as much pain, or perhaps I should say they cause the sort of pain I can deal with.
So any ideas how I persuade George that canes are really very boring, and that he would much, much rather spank me with a nice belt?

Bratting

I'm a natural brat, I can't help myself. Even in my vanilla life I find it very hard not to come back with a retort when I'm comfortable with people and we are engaged in a "bantering" conversation. Banter is probably the best way of describing it, actually. I thrive on banter, and that exchange of wits, when I'm safe in the knowledge that the person or people I'm in conversation with will understand that I never truly mean any harm by what I say, and that I would be mortified if I said something that really hurt someone. But bantering with like-minded people is FUN, sorry! And it's even more fun when you are with a spanker and know that the bratting will very probably get you spanked. I think that is some people's issue with it, though. They see people bratting in order to get a spanking. If I want a spanking, I will just flipping well ASK for one, thank you very much, I don't need any reason to get myself into trouble. A little bit of bratting on the side, in the right situation, only adds to the fun.
I personally think the anti-bratting brigade should lighten up, but hey, that's just me.

The Tired Rant

Warning - there is no spanking in this post at all.

I need to get more sleep. I'm an 8 hours a night girl. However, during the week I generally get 6 hours or less sleep...I start to function less and less well the less sleep I get... and become a grumpy bitch, and not a pleasure to be around. If you do the sums, I probably need 40 hours sleep during the working week and get 30. Which is a fairly big shortfall. In all fairness, if I manage 7 hours a night I'm just about bearable, so maybe that's what I should aim for.

You think it would be easy, right? My alarm wakes up at 6. So I'd need to go to sleep at 11pm to get in seven hours. Except from when I *think* about going to bed to when I actually turn off the light and sleep is usually about an hour. You know, faffing, moisturising, teeth cleaning, reading, winding down, tossing and turning. So that means I need to start getting ready for bed at 10pm. The only problem with this is that I'm basically a night owl. So around 9/10pm is often when I being productive. I'm at my awakest (yes, it's a word!) just at the point where I have to be going to bed. It was wonderful when I was a student in Spain. We never had classes before 3pm, so I very quickly fell into a routine of waking up about 11, and going to bed about 2/3am. It suited me perfectly. I think that's probably what my natural body clock would like to work to. People have always said to me that "Oh, you'll get used to getting up early, you know: at the weekends, I'm wide awake before my alarm even goes off". Well I'm sorry, they are wrong. I've been working for 10 years now and I have NEVER got used to waking up at 6am. I may wake up at 6am at the weekends, but it's generally only to grunt, roll over, and go back to sleep again till a decent hour. I loathe getting up at 6am, I loathe not actually feeling awake until about 10am any morning. And I especially hate that any time I go out and stay out past about 10pm, I know that I'm going to pay for it the next day.
Whinge, whinge, whinge, whinge, whinge... sorry, what can I say - I'm tired!!
Oh, and the first person to suggest the "creative" solution to my issue that one of you clever clogs is *bound* to suggest will get a slap round the head. It may be a virtual slap, but I'm sure I can make it hurt nevertheless. (And any of you who know me in real life and feel like making any clever suggestions, yours will be a *real* slap round the head. And it will be hard.)
I'm going off to kick some car tyres and be grumpy and tired now.

Flip Flops

Radio 4 on Friday night was broadcasting a discussion about a scheme in Devon, where police are going to start giving out flip flops to drunk young women. This is apparently to prevent them falling off their high heels and injuring themselves. One of the participants in the discussion commented that it seemed very much to her like the girls were being rewarded for being drunk, being given flip flops.
I have another theory. I think the BBC have it wrong. I think the proposal is for all those nice, hunky policemen to take the naughty, drunken girls, and "give them the flip flop" as a modern day, forward thinking Police Force's alternative to "giving them the slipper". Let's face it, slippers are terribly passé. Flips flops, as the fashion mags tell us on a regular basis, are the way to go.

The Kinky Wii Game

In which ones uses one's butt...

Seriously, there is a new Wii game out where for part of it you have to use your butt. On a Wii balance board. And judging by the second video in the link below, they are rather proud of the amount of butt action used in the game. The words "assume the position" were even used at one point.
http://www.nintendowiifanboy.com/2008/05/29/were-gonna-have-a-rabbids-tv-party-tonight/
Even worse, though, or possibly better, is the link I found on the rabbids.com home page.
To a little flash game.
http://contest.ubi.com/UK_RAYMAN_TV_COMP/en-GB/Main.aspx
Where you spank the rabbids. Seriously.
My abysmal score did prove to me that I would never make a top, though.

Tales of the Bath Brush

So there I was, lying face down on the bed, in that beautiful, post spanking haze, all sleepy and lovely, when all of a sudden, SOMEONE comes back into the room and proceeds to start spanking me with a WET bath brush. When I demanded to know why he had interrupted my little space out, he replied that he had been in the bathroom, with the tap running, seen the brush, seen my tush (well, he didn't use that word, but it rhymes, so that's cool) and put 1 and 1 and 1 together to get a wet bath brush spanking. He also claimed that I would have been disappointed if he hadn't done it, as I was obviously expecting him to do something like that since I left the brush there in the bathroom. Well, really. Some people!! George, just for the record, just because there is something lying around that you *might* be able to spank me with, does not mean that I *want* you to spank me with it. OK?!

It was a lovely spanking though. Lots of nice hand spanking. Some with a wooden spoon. (Because he was afraid of hurting his hand. Whatever.) Some with the hairbrush of doom, because I was in that good a mood. And then 24 with his belt. Now don't tell him this, but I actually really love his belt. I also love that he's thoughtful enough to alternate doing some forehand and some backhand so my poor right cheek doesn't get overly "seen to".

We finished off with lots with the flogger. Oh how I luurrrve my flogger... So after all that lovely spanky goodness, he comes at me with the wet bath brush. Just it on it's own I could have understood. But *wetting* it?! That's just his pure evil streak coming through ;-)

Pretty Knickers

Or "How I learnt to love my bottom".
I have spent the last two weeks having to wear very, very boring black cotton knickers. No, this was not for any kinky reason, but for reasons of my play/costume practicality. And while I am sad the play is over, I'm very, very happy that I can wear all my pretty knickers again. As I'm sure all women will agree, wearing pretty or cute knickers can just give you that extra inner confidence and feeling of sexiness. It's strange though. I used to wear black or white or beige cotton knickers ALL the time. God, how boring was I?! I also would never have considered that my bottom could be considered nice, or attractive, or sexy. Never sexy...
But, over the past six months ago, and with some help from certain people, I've learnt to love my bottom. And I want to be nice to it, and give it pretty things to wear, and it was very hard over the last couple of weeks to be stuck with BORING black cotton. Yawn.
That said, I wore black cotton ones today, but that was purely because they said "Little Miss Trouble" on them, which seemed appropriate.
Wait, you were waiting to read something about a spanking, you cry?! What can I say, I had to wait for three weeks, so you guys can wait a day or so...!

Spanking, Spanking Everywhere

I've not had much opportunity to watch TV, listen to the radio, or really do anything much at all recently. So why is that I am still finding spanking everywhere? I had the TV on for about ten minutes the other day. It so happened that I turned on to an episode of Will and Grace, where an old guy was trying to get Grace to spank him (and he succeeded). Driving home a couple of days later I had Radio Four on, listening to the "Book at Bedtime" slot, I happened to have tuned in to the adaptation of "A Kestrel for A Knave", the novel that the film Kes was based on. I caught one episode in the week. And only the last 5 minutes of it. That was the only five minutes in the entire story that had a caning in it! That's a pretty impressive achievement on my part, I feel!
The culmination was this weekend when in acting class we were doing the scene from The Crucible where Proctor threatens his maid Mary Warren with a whip, followed by dinner at a Greek restaurant where I, um, misread, Spanakopita... but wouldn't it be cool if restaurants served spanking?!

It's been too long

If everything goes to plan I will be getting spanked on Monday. I've lost track of how long it's been since I was last spanked, I think three weeks or a month maybe? Purely my fault, I've had a mad few weeks because of various things and have barely had time to breathe, let alone get spanked. The trouble is I'm now in the position of half longing for and half dreading Monday. I *need* to be spanked. It's been too long. I'm craving it. Or at least the tiny part of my that's not exhausted, overwhelmed and in desperate need of a quiet evening in front of the television followed by an 8pm bedtime is craving it ;-) After all, I'm a kinky girl, being spanked is part of my raison d'être nowadays. On the other hand, I'm dreading it. It's been three weeks (at least). I think my rear has probably returned to it's original , virgin, unspanked state. How on earth is it going to cope?! Needless to say, it will be a shock to the system. Both a bad one and a good one.

Kinky Girl Shopping

I went to the shops the other day to stock up on stockings, so to speak, and it all went a little kinky. I spotted an inappropriately short tartan skirt that had to go in the shopping basket. (It's so inappropriate that I wouldn't actually be able to wear it to answer the front door, never mind out of the house). It happened to be sitting next to a nice white shirt, so that got purchased as well. And then who could resist the black V-neck jumper I saw in the next shop? So basically, I went for stockings and purchased a whole new school uniform. Oh, and some pretty knickers :-) I'm one very happy kinky girl.

7 Things Meme

I've been tagged by various people to do that seven things meme that's floating around. I don't usually do meme things, but it's Sunday morning, I really should be working, and I'd really rather not be, so I'll do this instead for a while.
I'm not one for following the rules if I can't be bothered, and there was a whole lot of blah at the top of this one, but the upshot of it was that you should write seven random things about yourself. And then tag some other people, but as everyone else has done it, I won't bother with that bit.

So, seven random things about me:

1) Whilst I am conceptually worried about global warming and flooding, on a personal level it doesn't worry me quite so much: I live on the second floor, half way up a hill, five miles from a major waterway. If I get flooded, the rest of you will have already drowned...

2) I was a Babe in the Wood in a local pantomime when I was four. They forgot to warn the children that the lights would be going off backstage, so they ended up with 30 screaming, frantic 4 year olds on their hands. Silly people.

3) This will completely give me away to anyone who is reading this and who knows me but doesn't know I'm kinky. On the other hand, what the hell are you doing reading a spanking blog if you are not kinky yourself?! Anyway, I'm scared of wrists, as in if I think about them on any level I turn slightly green and go a little faint. Yes, I know I *have* wrists. Don't remind me.

4) I'm dyslexic. I tend to use this as an excuse for poor spelling more than I should do, but when it comes to "proper" longhand writing, form filling and copying things down, it actually does have an impact. So don't ever make me do lines, okay?

5) I'm making up for lost time now, because I was stupidly good at school. I got kept in once at break when I was 10. I was so upset, I never did anything that would get me into trouble ever again.

6) Oh, apart from getting my mother to shout at my history teacher, who had lost my history exercise book and then accused me of having lost it. She shouted, he apologised, I found it in the back of my wardrobe 3 weeks later and never told anyone. Whoops.

7) I pretty much always have itchy feet. In the metaphorical sense you understand... I try and go on a long (4 weeks plus) holiday every 3 or 4 years, and have been talking about taking a year's career break to travel for a while now. When I told one of my vanilla friends about the whole spanking thing, she was mostly just relieved that I wasn't announcing I was buggering off round the world for a year. Of course, one thing I will have to think about now if I do decide to take a year off is how I will cope for a year without being spanked. Or alternatively how I will find people to spank me all round the world ;-)

So there you have it, seven random things about me. I suppose I'd better do some work now.

To Warm Up Or Not To Warm Up

I've always heard/read that "cold" canings (i.e. on an unspanked bottom) hurt worse than when you have had a "warm up" hand spanking. George doesn't think this is right, but as he stated on his blog recently, is not about to argue with me if I'm basically asking for *more* punishment and he gets to get his hands on my bum for longer. (I'm paraphrasing!)

Of course, I still haven't managed to work out why some punishments I can take and some make me leap out of my skin, but I don't think a warm up has anything to do with it.

So, I would like to ask a question of readers, especially those more experienced ones, though everyone feel free to weigh in:

"What is best, to warm up or not to warm up?"

Empire State Building Spanking?

Those of you who know me will know that I'm not an exhibitionist. Or at least not when it comes to spanking. I don't think I could ever envisage a situation where I would get spanked in public. However, on a recent trip to New York, I saw something that might make me reconsider.

Most of the telescopes on the top of the Empire State Building are 'normal' ones, on top of long posts, but there are a couple that are set up on the end of posts that sort of stick out at, well, waist height:
















See what I mean? It's just the right height and width to bend over! I think being spanked on top of the Empire State Building would probably count as one of the best spanking views you could have! I wouldn't be tempted if it was busy, but if I could somehow get the top of the Empire State Building to myself, I would *so* want to spanked up there!

LOL Review

Hey, LOL day was so much fun! Thank you so much to everyone who stopped by the blog, please call again, and an even bigger thank you to those of you who said hi. It was great to hear from new and old commenters alike :-)
So I'd like to say a special hi, and welcome (back), to Jen, Bonnie, Spanky, Maryann, PK, Irelynn, Todd and Suzy, LizzyBee, Grace, Cassie, Greenwoman, Dr Ken, Hermione, Eva, Marcus, K, dieseldiva, and dixiedarling!
I hope you all had fun catching up with lots of blogs on LOL day as well.
Eliane

Love Our Lurkers Day

Today is "Love Our Lurkers Day", as instigated by the lovely Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts.
Love Our Lurkers Day is the day when "we" in the Spanking blog community invite our readers to leave us a comment. If you've always been too shy to say hi, today's the day to pluck up the courage. You never know what might happen if you do! I've met some wonderful people through commenting on blogs.
When I originally started this blog, I really didn't know what I was going to do with it. I kept it secret, I was really writing only for myself. As the months have gone on, more and more people have found it and I'm now writing with my audience in mind, which is much more fun :-) It's lovely to know that there are people out there who don't find what I write completely boring and who actually come back to read more.
So if you're one of those who has never plucked up the courage to comment, do it now. You can use a false name, or not even leave one. You don't have to have anything big or grand to say - just hi will do - I'd love to hear from you all!
Eliane

Porn Star

I'd like to welcome a new commenter to the site: Porn Star. Don't get overexcited, she's not an actual porn star, that's just her pseudonym. However, she is one of my very best friends, and has been so for the last 8 years. In fact she is probably the main reason I'm blogging today. It was her openness about the things she liked in life that gave me the courage to tell her that I had been hiding the fact that I was a kinky so and so for the past 7 and a half years. If I hadn't had her in my life to "come out" to, then there is a fair chance that this side of me would have stayed hidden forever. Even though I have only been "active" in my kinkiness since April, it's already changed my life for the better in so many ways. I'm immeasurably more contented than I was a year ago. I'm now being the "whole" me.
So, Porn Star, thank you for your friendship and welcome to the site. I hope you are enjoying living vicariously through me, and I promise you many more stories to come, AS LONG as you stop trying to get me into trouble, you evil wench! I need no help doing that, as I'm sure you've gathered.
(Oh, and one of these days I will get a test drive of a flip -flop and let you know.)

Easily Distracted

I was lucky enough to get tickets to an acclaimed, sold-out West End play. It was very good, well worth the money, and I was enjoying myself immensely, absorbed in the drama, when all of a sudden I got distracted. The third act had started with some of the actors sitting round a desk, drinking and eating. So far, so normal. However, about halfway through the scene, the lead character comes in, has a strop, and clears everything off the desk. Leaving a *beautiful* dark wood desk completely empty: and there I am, pulled out of the drama, thinking "Oh my, I want to be bent over that gorgeous desk and spanked". Things got even worse when one of the young female characters waltzes on stage, and, God help me, bends over the damn desk. Twice! It took me a good few minutes to regain my composure and focus on what was going on in the play again.
Bad kinky brain!

Ugh

Ugh, I need a spanking. Big time.
That's all.

I Broke My Haibrush

Unfortunately, it wasn't the hairbrush of doom that got broken, but my wonderful, faithful old plastic one, which finally gave up the ghost when the handle sheared off in my hand the other morning leaving the brush bit still in my hair. This was quite upsetting, as it's hard to find hairbrushes that my hair doesn't eat.
It did give me an idea, though. I'm now actually going to have to resort to using the previously hidden hairbrush of doom in my hair, and, if I maybe take a knife to the handle and create a bit of a weak point, it shouldn't be long before that one breaks in my hair as well.
Am I not a genius?!

Spanking In A CV

I have been wrestling with the question of how to put the word spanking into a CV. Not because I want to do it for real, you understand. More as a theoretical challenge. I believe I've found the solution though. Under the section talking about hobbies and interests, give a list of sports you take part in:

Swimming
Polo
Athletics
Netball
Kickboxing
Ice Skating
Nordic Skiing
Golf

Admittedly, the Nordic Skiing is a bit of a stretch, but you try finding two sensible sports beginning with an N!

So there you have it. How to write the word spanking in a CV. Go on, I dare you!

(And to the person who inspired me to try, thank you very much :-) )

A worrying thought

My mother is not kinky. Really, she's not. She's a lovely woman, and I love her to bits, but she's not kinky.

Except...

She went to Paris a couple of weekends ago as a birthday treat. She was regaling me with tales when she got back, including talking about the little café they had found to have breakfast each morning. As she was telling me about this place, she took great delight in talking about the waitress they had, who the owner kept whacking on the butt (probably not the words my mother used) with a tea towel.

I didn't think much of at the time, as I was possibly not paying her proper attention as she talked. But yesterday those tales suddenly popped into my head as I remembered the relish with which she talked about this incident. At least twice.

She's not is she?

Let's just hope it's an aberration...

Oh god, where's my therapist's number??

Victorian Schoolrooms

A newish acquaintance of mine works as a Victorian school teacher in one of the many recreation museums which exist nowadays. I was chatting to her the other day and mentioned that someone I knew (Hi Smudge!) had been traumatised when she was young by a visit to one such institution. Please note that I did not say how or why she had been traumatised. Her reply was as follows: "Well, I'm not surprised. It's a bit pervy really. You know, all the little boys just seem to want to get caned. And as for the male teachers, they're the worst!"
I think my answer was something along the lines of "Oh yes, gosh, I can imagine". Inside though I was laughing at the fact that a seemingly innocuous conversation had gone kinky without me even trying!

That's it - I'm moving!

It's November 2nd. I'm already fed up with winter. I'm fed up with it always raining, I'm seriously unimpressed that we've already had snow (the first time it snowed in October where I live since BEFORE I WAS BORN!) I'm fed up with *always* being cold, I'm fed up with it going dark at 5pm and I'm completely fed up with being stuck behind drivers doing 30 miles per hour on 60 mile per hour roads. Idiots. All in all, I HATE winter.
Anyway, if anyone who lives somewhere warm and sunny wants an incredibly untidy house guest for the next three months, please feel free to let me know.

Update: I forgot to add that I also HATE fireworks, so this adds to my November disgust. For those of you not from the UK, November 5th is Bonfire Night. This means lots of fireworks, and results in me spending the best part of two weeks hiding under my bed whenever I can.
I hate winter.

A Clumsy Maid

I'm playing an Edwardian maid in a amateur play at the moment. The director probably would not have cast me in that role if she had had any inkling of quite how I clumsy I am. I trip over coming on stage, I've dropped a tray full of glasses (thankfully plastic), and I'm dreading when we move out of the rehearsal rooms and into the theatre as there will be even more opportunities for me to fall over things, walk off things, and generally make an idiot of myself.

It does make me wonder, though, quite how I would have fared in a real Edwardian household, maybe one where the maids were spanked for clumsiness. I suspect I would have never been able to sit down, as I would have had a permanent sore bottom from being taken to task for my many spillages and accidents. I'm very grateful I live in the 21st century, and don't have to worry about breaking the glasses in the sink anymore. Now I blame the dishwasher!

Pathetic...

...is probably the best word to describe my performance tonight. I had tried really hard to get myself into the right frame of mind, and I think I probably had done. However, once the caning started all that went right out the window. I stood up after practically every stroke. I cried. I thought I was going to be sick. After stroke five I stood up and flat out refused to get back down again for about 3 hours. Well, that's what it seemed like. It probably wasn't quite that long. George, to his eternal credit, did not lose it, as I'm sure I would have done if the situation had been reversed. I was being a complete pain, and probably deserved about 20 extras which he very kindly did not dispense tonight, though he really should have done.

I'm mostly just so angry with myself. Even when I was in the middle of kicking up a complete fuss, I was furious with myself for not just being able to bend back over and damn well get on with it. I really wish I knew why my reaction to pain varies so greatly. I know some of it is headspace, and some of it hormones, and some of it tiredness and goodness knows what else, but it's irritating (an understatement!) for me not to know how I'm going to react to a spanking from one day to the next, and I'm sure it must be endlessly frustrating for George. Eventually we did get through the 12 (though it probably took getting on for half an hour I was being such a baby...).

Later on, after I had calmed down a bit, we had a bit of a conversation about vocabulary. We agreed that submissive wasn't a good term for me, but I don't think we reached any conclusions as to what was... ah well, I'm me and that's all I need to know! We also had a discussion about the phrase he used when he linked to my blog from his: "Eliane is mine and will regularly send stroppy texts and emails for daring to suggest she is anything other than independent." I took great exception to this, obviously, so he said he was going to prove it to me, as I would get over his lap and be spanked when he asked me to. Again, obviously, I refused... I mean, come on, a girl has her pride. We tussled for a bit. He nearly won at one point but I managed to shoot myself off his knees and onto the floor. Now comes the part where he would claim he won the argument. Yes, I did get back over his lap, and yes I did let him spank me but *only* because he uttered the words "if you don't get over my lap I'll use the bathbrush on you". Seriously folks, that's just blackmail, isn't it?! Of course I got over his lap, I hate wood!! So, I'd just like to state for the record, that I'm mine and no one else's and I will continue to send stroppy emails and texts (and blog posts) to that effect, because sometimes it's about the principle of the thing!


(Oo, and the kink came back on Wednesday evening, thank goodness!)

Vanilla Flavour

I've got a nearly finished post all about Monday's caning that I started last night, but instead of finishing it I'm typing a new post. Why? Because I seem to have turned vanilla in my sleep. I'm not quite sure why... it's never happened to me before, or at least not since I started being kinky in real life...
And the weirdest thing. I don't feel particularly bothered about having lost all kinky thoughts, urges and desires. Feel like I could stay vanilla and that wouldn't be an issue. What's that all about?
Anyway, I'm hoping today is a temporary aberration, and when I wake up tomorrow, I'll be back to my usual kinky self. And finish that post about last night.

A Punishment Book

A slightly edited version of a recent email conversation:

Him: "Would you like to have a punishment book?"
Me: "Um, not really."
Him: "Why not?"
Me: "Because at the moment, there's a chance things might be forgotten about before I get them. If they're written down, there's no chance of them being forgotten."
Him: "I hadn't thought about that. Excellent point. I'm impressed. Please buy a suitable book when you have the chance."
Me: "Sigh."

I don't know why I think it would make a difference anyway. The man seems to have the memory of an elephant when it comes to things like that. There's no way he would forget what he 'owed' me even if it wasn't written down.

Waiting To Be Caned

I'm getting caned tomorrow evening. 12 of the 18 strokes I'm owed for texting whilst driving.
I really, really don't want to be caned. I *hate* being caned.
But on the other hand I know that what I did was really, really stupid. I mean, I was texting while I was on the motorway. Doing 70 miles an hour. I'm pretty ashamed of that. You don't get much more idiotic than that. I could have got myself killed. Even worse, I could have killed someone else.
George asked me to email him what I was feeling knowing that I would be caned on Monday. This was what I responded.

"Crap.
Worried.
Honestly, I'm trying not to think about it at all.
I'm considering not opening the door to you.
I'm considering breaking the cane before you turn up.
I'm wondering what on earth makes me think I like being spanked. Or caned. Or disciplined.
I'm worried about having to go out straight after getting 12 (and let's be frank, probably extras. It's not like I'm good at staying in position).
I'm really, seriously thinking about losing the cane.
I'm scared."

So think of me and my poor bum on Monday night! (And yes, I know I deserve it)

Vocabulary Issues

I have a tendency to overreact. This would actually surprise some people who know me as I generally manage to keep a lid on my temper. Sometimes, though, my buttons get pushed and wham, there I am, overreacting again. George used a word in his post on Friday that pushed all my buttons. He called me his sub. (Which he has now changed to spanking partner, thank you George!)

This is one word I have a real problem with. I am not naturally submissive, though I can have my moments, and the connotations associated with being "someone's sub" are not ones I am happy with. I am fiercely independent, and that is very important to me. Bending, in any way, to someone's will, against my own, is something I find intensely difficult. So when I read this word last night, I felt more than a little uneasy. That unease continued into the next morning, and, when he sent me an email, which on reflection was well intentioned, I took it completely the wrong way. I viewed it as an attempt to control me, and lost my temper. Stupid? Yes. Unjustified? Yes.

He and I probably still need to have a conversation about the labels we put on ourselves and our relationship, but the point is that they *are* only labels. It doesn't change what we do.

A Bit Of A Shock

I was innocently (because I'm *always* innocent) sitting at my PC last night when an email came through from George. All it had was a link on it. To a blog. "Oh, how nice", I thought, "he's sent me a link to a blog he thinks I'll like".
You could have knocked me down with a feather when I opened the link and realised it was *his* blog. That he'd just started.
So this is a bit of an interesting turn of events... I like the idea of George having a blog because I'm interested in hearing his thoughts and perspective on what we are doing. On the other hand, the idea also worries me no end. After all, how do I know what he's going to write? How can I control it? I can't. Which means I'm not in control. Argh!!!
I hate not being in control, except in some very specific situations . (I.e. being spanked. And even then not always!) I mean, I really hate it. He on the other hand, rather likes the idea of me not being in control...

So anyway, somewhat against my better judgement, I hereby introduce you to George's blog.

Limits

Someone who reads this blog very bravely plucked up the courage to write and ask me for some advice. Now, I would never encourage anybody to look on me as some sort of guru, because I'm really just muddling through trying to figure this out like everyone else, so take anything that follows with a pinch of salt. That disclaimer out of the way, this person asked a very interesting question. I said that if she was embarking on a real life spanking journey, she should make sure she set her limits when she was thinking about "playing" with people. She rightly turned round and asked "How can I set my limits if I don't really know what they are?"

I realised that this was a great question, and it got me thinking. So below, and I hope she doesn't mind me reproducing the body of my email to her, are some of my thoughts on how to figure out what your limits are:

I've been thinking a lot today about how I figured out what mine were, and I came to the conclusion that a lot of it comes just by reading fiction, being on websites like Informed Consent, reading blogs etc. As you are reading them, maybe try and think of the following things:
Do I like the idea of this particular thing that is being talked about (be it being caned, bondage, etc.)?
Can I see myself doing this thing in real life?
Is it something that scares me (and not in a good way)?
Is it something that goes against my values?
What appeals to me/turns me on as I am reading?

As you do this you will probably find yourself coming up with some things that you really don't like the idea of. For instance, I hate the idea of gags. I have asthma and the idea of having something in my mouth impeding my breathing scares me. So for me, gags are a limit. I would never want to be gagged. These things that don't appeal are probably a good starting place for your limits. It's also useful to have an idea of what type of spankings appeal. Do you like the idea of discipline spankings? Or maybe just for fun spankings? Or maybe what really appeals is erotic spankings as a prelude to more sexual activity.
It also helps to have a set of "first spanking meet" limits. It may be that you think that once you get to know someone you wouldn't mind them using implements on you, but the first time you meet you only want them to hand spank you.
Don't be surprised if your limits change over time. Accept that as you grow in doing "this thing we do", you will discover more about yourself, and what your likes and dislikes are. Don't think that just because you said when you started out that you would *never* do something, you can't change your mind three months down the line when the idea starts appealing more. We're women: it's our prerogative to change our minds ;-)

I think the key thing is research. Just try and figure out what feels right in your head (and heart) and what doesn't, and that's probably a pretty darn good basis for your limits.

How long have you 'known' you were a spanko?

As usual, I'm curious. This is a pretty much a constant state for me when it comes to spanking. I have always been a spanko. Of course, when I was eight or nine, and rereading those little snippets in books which dealt with someone being spanked, I didn't *know* that's what I was. And later on, when I realised what it was that I liked, I didn't want to admit that's what I was, but now, with the benefit of age (I would say wisdom, but we all know that's a lie), I can look back and realise that in fact, yes, I've been in to spanking pretty much all my life. I'm a spanko. This is part of who I am, always has been, probably always will be.

Is it the same for you guys, or are there people who have never considered this until someone introduced them to it in adulthood?

Tight vs Stockings - the next round

I can be a little absent-minded. I'm dyslexic and have a poor short term memory, so that's what gets blamed for all episodes of absent-minded idiocy. It's an excuse that's done me proud since I was 12 and I will be sticking to it, thank you very much. Anyway, I've discovered one major flaw with stockings when you are a little, um, "dizzy".

I'm putting on my stockings in the morning, right leg is on, and then I get distracted by some thought of something, who knows what, not important. Anyway, I get up to deal with said random thought, and put left stocking down somewhere. I only live in a two bed flat, so there's not that many places where it could be, but anyone who knows me will tell you it's a very messy two bed flat (G, don't even THINK of agreeing with me here, lol!).

It took my 10 solid minutes of looking to find stocking number two. Making me even later than I already was.

This is where tights get their own back. If I put one leg on and get distracted, the other leg is still flapping around. It can't get lost. This is a good thing for simple minded souls like me. I don't need to have a 10 minute battle with my memory and messiness.

So the current score, Tights 1, Stockings 1.

A Hair Metaphor (or something)

My hair used to be dead straight. I'm talking, poker straight, not a wave in sight. If I tried to wave, or curl it, the wave would drop out within about 10 minutes.
However, about 5 years ago, something changed. My hair started getting kinks in it. First one, then two, at the back, then at the front. The situation got worse and worse, and nowadays no honest person would call my hair straight. It's most definitely wavy, and well, kinky.

Of course, I've only come about my kink in the past six months or so. Think of all the fun I could have had if I'd listened to my hair when it first started giving me these signs!

Texting Etiquette

Texting whilst driving is dangerous and stupid, as I'm sure we'd all agree...

Texting the person who spanks you when you're driving and they *know* that you're driving, is, let's be frank, plain idiotic!
Various text messages were being exchanged, and then I get one that says "Hope you are not texting and driving...". Gulp. Whoops, busted. The phone gets closed and put in my bag for the remainder of the journey, my subsequent lack of response to that text probably being the most obvious of confessions.

Needless to say, my butt is for it!

It's For The Bath...!

George wandered into my bathroom the other day, and I heard this excited little squeal. He came out with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye clutching my bath brush. Given my dislike of all things wooden, I was not impressed by this turn of events.
"I like your bath brush!" he said with that evil glint still there.
"Yes, I use it in the bath, now put it back!"
"Come, on just one..." he wheedled, a little like a small child who wasn't being allowed to play on the swings.
"Fine."
So I bent over, took a swat with the thing and whinged for about 3 minutes.
"Well, you shouldn't leave these things lying around" he countered.

It's my bath brush. That I use in the bath. Which is in the bathroom. Where else am I supposed to leave the stupid thing? It's not my fault some people can't leave well enough alone...!

New Rules

I was chatting to a friend earlier on today. She isn't kinky but knows that I am. We were talking about various things and got onto the subject of how our inhibitions have held us back over the years, and have also held back several of our friends.
We all come from quite similar backgrounds. We are middle class, from stable homes. None of us were brought up "in religion", but we all have what could probably be called "strong moral values". Of course, there are many different sets of strong moral values. No doubt cannibals have a set of strong values that they hold to. I'm sure you can imagine, though, the sort of values that I'm talking about. Nice girls don't drink too much. Nice girls don't smoke. Nice girls don't swear. Nice girls are polite. Nice girls don't think mean thoughts about others. Nice girls have sensible relationships with nice men, don't sleep around, eventually marry, and have nice babies. Nice girls should be, well, nice. All of which is fine, don't get me wrong, but often makes for rather screwed up adults. Which, to be frank, all of my friends are to some degree, because hey, those values are damn hard to live up to.
But, and forgive the pity party, I contend that it's even worse for me with my kink. When you get to the stage where you can't just feel free to be who you want, see who you want, do what you want, just be your true self, at least for some part of the time... that's when it's time to re-evaluate some of those "strong moral values", and what they actually bring to our lives.
It's taken me a hell of a long time to allow myself to be OK with my spanking desires, because, well, nice girls don't do things like that. There are very few things I regret in my life, but I think that not allowing myself to be who I truly am for so long is probably the biggest one. I've eventually realised that if I want to live my life in a way that doesn't meet with 'the Nice Girl Rule Book' what does it really matter? So I'm making up my own rule book now:

1) Don't put yourself in danger
2) Don't be stupid
3) Don't hurt other people
4) Be true to yourself

That should cover most bases, right?
It just might take me a while longer to tell my mother I won't be bringing home Mr Nice anytime soon!!

So Unfair

I've spent a fair portion of the past day and a half in an antibiotic fuelled haze of exhaustion, sleeping lots. And dreaming lots. You'd think with all those dreams, I might get some nice kinky ones, right? Wrong. Being in a boat in an earthquake in Venice? Check. Getting lost in the middle of a strange city with my least favourite work colleagues? Check. Watching some random army invade the local stately home? Check. The nearest my dreams came to kinky was one involving suspender belts. Unfortunately, it involved Gladys Pugh, from Hi-De-Hi, selling them on television. I realise that that reference will probably only mean something to anyone who was living in the UK in the 1980s, but think "scary desperate Welsh woman with too much make up" (http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/ilove/years/1981/tv3.shtml). The point being, not in the slightest bit kinky or sexy. Or at least not for me. If it works for you, hey, who am I to judge!?
So it's back to sleep for me. And here's hoping I get luckier with the dreams this time.

Look What I Bought!

When on my trip to New York, I was lucky enough to meet up with Kate James. We had a lovely meal, and it was great, though a little humbling to meet up with someone who is already so sorted about their kink while still in their teens. I'm not one to regret things, but it does make me wish I'd allowed myself to be OK with my spanking desires at a much younger age. Ah well, I may as well try and make up for lost time now!


I do have one bone to pick with Kate, though. Thanks to her, I'm $100 poorer. As I was hanging round in SoHo waiting for her to arrive, she texted me the name of a great toy store I could go visit, Babeland. So I did, and saw a beautiful flogger that I just had to buy myself.





















It's lovely, and so soft! I can't wait to try it out. So thank you Kate, both for a lovely evening, and the store recommendation!

Trying New Things

When a girl discovers she's kinky, she starts to try lots of new things. Some are obvious: being spanked for the first time, being tawsed for the first time, being caned for the first time... you get the picture. Some new things are slightly less obvious, and also slightly less kinky. I wore stockings for the first time today. I'm a bit of a girlie girl, so I wear a lot of skirts, but I've always, always, worn them with tights. Until I started exploring my kink, I had never even thought about wearing stockings. After all, when you are wandering around Boots, or Asda or wherever, and think, ooo I need new hosiery, it's always tights sitting on the shelves.
Of course, there is a problem with tights. I HATE wearing them. A lot. So when I suddenly realised that stockings weren't just part of wedding day underwear and there are lots of people out there who wear them*every day*, I thought I might try them as an alternative to tights, on the basis that the less yucky nylon there is touching my skin, the better.
And the verdict? Yes, stockings are good. Much nicer than tights, slightly more of a faff to put on, but it also makes you feel very sexy knowing you are wearing stockings instead of tights. It's that nice feeling of knowing "I've got something on under my dress that you don't know about", a bit like cane marks. Well, not really, but you get my drift. So the score? Stockings 1, Tights 0

More Links

Lots of other bloggers have been kind enough to leave me comments over the last few weeks. Here are some links to their sites that I'd like to share with you, in no particular order!

A Well-Disciplined Girl Olivia always leaves such lovely, thoughtful comments!

Journey To The Darkside Check out Padme and Master Anakin's adventures.

Mac Girls Escapades Mac Girl is starting out on her own journey discovering spanking and her sexuality.

From My Other Side: Where Anything Goes Ofia has been blogging for about 18 months, and is always a good read.

The Naughty Side of K Another newish blog, hey, there's lots of us around here!

Time Out For Love Maryann started her blog when she was in a relationship, but has bravely decided to carry on blogging since the relationship ended.

Spanked Italian Girl I-Girl has been a spanko her whole life. She and her husband started incorporating DD into their marriage last year, after 25 years of marriage.

American Spanking Society Todd and Suzy over at A.S.S need no introduction, but for the two of you left who have never visited their site, head on over there and check it out!

Freshly Spanked Smudge and Irelynn are two freshers who are completely lovely, slightly mad, and well organised enough to fit in blogging around other compulsory fresher activities (drinking, missing lectures, drinking, chatting up boys, giving up on boys, drinking, learning things)

Emma Enchanted Em is yet another new blogger, go over and say hi.

Spanking Kate James My friend Kate James blog, who I met up with in New York. But that's another post ;-)

also check out her forum, Young Spankos

Robin's Red Bottom Robin is another great writer :-)

Harry Potter Theme Park

I am proud to admit that I'm a massive fan of the Harry Potter books. Yes, I am well aware they are not great literature, but they are bloody good stories, and anyone who disagrees with me can go and bathe in the products of a potions class! Whenever the latest book came out it had to be read as soon as possible, and as a consequence I missed work, was late to a friend's evening wedding party, and at least twice spent 8 hours solid doing nothing but reading. So imagine my excitement last year when I found out that they would be opening a Harry Potter theme park at Universal Studios.

And I'm sure I'm not the only spanko Harry Potter fan who is secretly hoping that in the lovely castle part of the theme park, there will be a secret Hogwarts spanking chamber...?

Oh, it was just me then...!

The photo is undoubtedly copywrite of Warner Brothers, Universal etc. etc.

Knickers

I'm wondering whether buying 12 pairs of knickers (and not in the cheap five packs from Marks and Spencer) could be considered to be excessive? Usually buying too many books is one of my favourite shopping vices, but I seem to have got carried away and bought rather too many knickers this trip, instead of books. Ah well, all to the good, knickers are much lighter to carry home!

Butt Cheek Favouritism

Does anyone else suffer from butt cheek favouritism? He's right handed. He's fairly even handed with he's handspanking, but once an implement comes into play, oh my goodness... my poor right cheek gets such a bad deal. Tawse, cane, and crop all naturally fall with the most impact on that beleaguered area. Even the hairbrush of doom (currently in retirement) seems big enough that it's a bit unwieldy to use too much on my left cheek when I'm OTK. For me, this makes the spanking even harder to take. It gets to the point where I just want to scream 'Dammit, will you just aim for the other cheek for a bit?!'. Luckily, my inner brat has not yet snapped... I tried to mention it the other day, but basically got told that he was right handed, he'd tried with his left before now, and it didn't work, so suck it up... more politely than that, obviously ;-)
So what I really need is an ambidextrous spanker. Or to put some sort of analgesic gel on my right butt cheek... ooo, now that's an idea!

How Long Can You Last

How long can you last without a spanking? For those of you who live with the person who spanks you, this may not be a question you have to deal with very often. For those of us who have to make time to meet up with the person who spanks us, it can be a slightly more vexed issue. I'm writing this sitting in another airport on my way to another country, and lamenting the fact that it's now been a week since I was last spanked. I'm learning that a week is about my limit. For about a week after I've been spanked, I'm satisfied, and while it's on my mind (it always is!) I'm not getting obsessed, Leave it much more than a week, though, and I get antsy, obsessed, annoyed, and generally in great need of having my bottom warmed. The real annoyance at the moment is that I know it's not going to happen for ages. Work and life are combining at the moment to mean it's probably going to be close to the end of October when I'm free, let alone trying to match diaries. It's not that I don't want to be doing all the other stuff that I'm doing, I do, just I want to get a spanking in there as well. So I'm sitting here, knowing the spanking cravings are going to be hitting sometime soon, and knowing that I can't do a damn thing about them for at least three weeks. ARGH!

LIttle Challenges

It took me 2.5 hours instead of 1.5 hours to get to my hotel last night. This was partly because I got hit with the stupid stick again, and forgot to buy a map at the airport or get one from the hire car desk, partly because I have a fundamental objection to Sat Nav (it seems to make people switch off their brains), and partly because the Tolls here are evil and if you don't go in on the right side, you come out onto the wrong road, which I figured out a little too late.

As I was driving along having rectified my mistake, I was reminded of a comment an aquaittance once made to me. She said "Oh, you're so brave to travel alone, I could never do that." I explained that I had had to travel abroad, on my own, for my job, since I first started working when I was 23, and I didn't see anything "brave" in it at all. Brave is putting your life on the line, or facing up to your greatest fears, not travelling to a foreign country on your own.

I will admit though that it sometimes gives one little challenges. I could have had a cab for the 130km journey each way, but to me that seemed a waste of money, so I hired a car. Yes, I got lost, but I stopped at a petrol station, asked someone and figured it out. It's about setting myself a little challenge and not taking the easy way out. I'm glad I do that, because if I hadn't spent the last however many years setting myself these little challenges and meeting them, I wouldn't have believed I had the strength to face the bigger challenges that came my way, and I also don't think I would have been able to take that final step and challenge myself to make my spanking dreams become a reality. So every time I do get a bit lost in a foreign country, or worry about attending an event I don't want to attend, I don't panic, I'm just thankful for another little challenge... because who knows where it might lead? (In this case it was leading to the east coast of Spain when it should have been leading to the west, but hey...!)

Tidying Up The Toys

I'm sitting in the hell hole that is Heathrow Terminal 2 off on a very boring business trip, but things are looking up now that I've got out my new “Porn Book” (an Acer Aspire One Netbook), cute, tiny, and a joy to the heart of a gadget freak like me. My new toy means I can write kinky stuff to my heart's content, even while on boring business trips, without risking getting the sack for having dodgy material on my laptop.
Leaving the house today was interesting. I'm very lucky in that I live close to my mother, who is a wonderful woman, and will often come and clean for me if I'm away, as she knows how busy I am. (And, let's be honest, how truly lazy when it comes to housework!) She is generally pretty good at just moving the rubbish to clean round it, and not looking in the cupboards, but it does mean that I have to be a lot more careful since I let my inner kinky girl out to play. So today, before leaving the house, I had to do one more scout round. Cane, tawse and crop hidden in a cupboard, rather than on the sofa, chair, and ottoman respectively. Spanking porn strewn all over the bed stuffed in the bottom of the wardrobe, vibrators hidden back in the underwear drawer... Hopefully I've remembered everything, but it's just become so much a part of who I am that I sometimes don't 'see' the naughty stuff any more. Ah well. It could be worse, I could have to tidy up more often. The good thing about being out practically every night of the week is that nobody bothers coming to visit, as I'm never in, so I can keep the place as messy as I want generally! It just means that when I do have to tidy for vanilla eyes, I have to be extra careful.

Guys look away now

This is a question for the girls.
Does your menstrual cycle affect how much pain you can take? Ever since my disastrous encounter with the hairbrush of doom, I've been wondering quite why it was so damnably awful. I have read in a few places that a woman's pain threshold varies during her menstrual cycle, but I've not really been spanked enough yet to be able to draw any correlations as far as my own reactions are concerned. So I'm asking the more experienced of you out there. Do you have days where you just can't take the pain? And if so, have you ever looked at when those days are in relation to your menstrual cycle? I would really like to get a handle on this so I know that at least if I am having a particularly bad time, there might be another reason apart from the fact that I am, fundamentally, a wimp!

Wow, need to get better at answering that one...

I told a vanilla friend about my new found interests the other night. She's actually the third friend I've told and one of these days I will get round to writing a longer post about telling them.

Anyway, she was generally very cool with it, but we were sitting there chatting and she said 'I don't get it, you're always such a wimp when you fall over or stub your toe or something. When did you start liking pain?"

"Well, actually, I don't like the pain at all when it's happening. In fact, when I'm being spanked, in that moment, I would give quite a lot for it not to be happening, because it HURTS!"

"So why do you do it then?"

Ummm...

Cue quite a lot of waffling from me about how it's the scene I enjoy, the anticipation, the dynamic, the not being in control, that lovely warm afterglow that you can feel the next day as well. I don't think she really got it though. I definitely need to come up with a succinct answer if I'm going to insist on carrying on coming out to my vanilla friends!

Forgiveness

I hesitate to write this as it sounds a little over dramatic, but probably one of the hardest things I have to learn to do in this life is forgive myself. I have no problem with forgiving other people. I believe life is too short to go to bed on an argument, and I will pretty much always make the first move to patch up something that has gone wrong between me and someone I care about. Though I try very hard not to get myself into a situation where something would go wrong anyway.
Forgiving myself? That's a whole other thing. Things that I would forgive other people for in a heartbeat take weeks and weeks for me to accept and move past if I do them. I will endlessly mentally beat myself up over the smallest thing. Not very healthy.
Tonight, though, I might have had a bit of a breakthrough. Those of you reading the comments and post of the last day or so, will have noticed that I had been rather stupid. I kept this blog a secret from someone who mattered to me, and whose trust and opinion I valued. When I eventually told him, he was understandably upset. I was probably more upset. I was so, so angry at myself for having kept it a secret. I spent a fair amount of last night crying, and struggled at work today to not keep going over it in my head again and again. I had to rush off to the toilets a couple of times to mop up the tears. I didn't think there was any way I could get past the guilt of knowing I'd screwed up. I knew I would be punished, and that it would be more than deserved, but I didn't think it would enable me to put the incident behind me.
It turns out I might be wrong. I'm currently sitting on a *very* sore bum. It was a fairly long punishment, and it was a hard one too. I tried my utmost to stay in position, as I knew everything I was getting was fully deserved. I was mostly successful as well.
And then it was over. And we talked. And by the end I felt, I don't know, lighter? And I can read the post and not burst into tears, but look at it a bit more objectively and go "yes, I really mucked up, but it's been dealt with, and maybe I shouldn't obsess over it for the next three weeks". If this is what forgiving myself feels like, it's a nice feeling. I may have to try it again.

I screwed up...

G.

I'm sorry. It's as simple as that.

I know... I know... I *know* I should have fessed up. I should have been honest about the existence of this blog from the start. But I just didn't tell you... shyness, embarrassment or whatever, and then it sort of reached the stage where it was too late because I should have told you way earlier. So then I didn't want to tell you even more. And then people started linking here, so I freaked out that you might stumble across it if you ever read of the blog links I sent you when you asked for them last month. I even asked someone not to write a post about this blog, just in case...

So it basically got to the stage where I was too scared to say anything, until I realised I'd rather just tell you and get it over with. I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I know you have every right to be seriously annoyed, especially given our conversation on Internet usage, and my failure to say anything about this blog at the time. I also know that I shouldn't have put conditions on telling you this "little" secret. I accept I'm very much in the wrong here.
I'm cut up with guilt right now. I don't know what the best thing is to do to fix this.
I know this probably also isn't the post that you requested me to write, but it's the one that came out.
Sorry.

E.

Lochgelly

Browsing on Wikipedia, as I am wont to do during those moments of boredom at work (i.e. often!), I ended up looking up Lochgelly, home of the oh-so-famous Lochgelly tawse. I was charmed to discover that Lochgelly is apparently next to the village of Lumphinnans. Now to me, that sounds like the after effect of a competent application of a Lochgelly: "Oh, I've got a bad case of the Lumphinnans on my bottom after that tawsing!"

Yeah, yeah, I know... I said I was bored, didn't I?!