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.