Yes Sir=Okay?

When I first discovered the online spanking community, and when I first met both of my spankers, I thought the idea of calling someone "Sir" was awkward and fake. It's what people do in spanking movies, it's what might happen in role play, but as a part of real life, how could that feel okay?

When I first met College Guy, we didn't use the "Sir" word, not even during my first punishment spanking. But I was expected to reply to his questions respectfully.

When I met My Magician, I remember freaking a bit and telling him something like "You sound British (even though you're not) and overly domineering, and would I really have to call you 'Sir'?"
He replied that no, he wasn't British, not overly domineering in his humble opinion, and that 'Sir' could be reserved for punishments only. That I would probably want to use the word during them. And it's true. I had to be reminded once or twice "Bonnie-jo, now would be the time to be saying 'Yes, Sir' when I ask you a question". But, it took little getting used to.

With College Guy, however, it is another story. He is a bit younger than me, and we are good friends, equals, buddies. There have been some odd times when I've felt like using the "Sir word", but those times have been during extreme bouts of emotion brought on by engaging in some spanking pastime or perhaps emotional/intimate discussion.

However (this is the age of post-modernism, ya'll) I believe that there is a word we use that just might be a "Yes, Sir" stand-in. It's brought up a great deal.

Suppose we're talking about some homework coming up.
"You should get started on that paper at least by tonight, Bonnie-jo. Okay?"
"Uh-hmm.." I mumble.
"Okay?" There is a tone in his voice.
I giggle at the tone. "Okay."

This exchange of "Okays" happens frequently. He claims it's because he sees my reply of "uh-hmm" as a weak reply, one that I don't really mean. That "Okay" actually means something, an agreement that I will commit myself to.

How it that any different from "Yes, Sir"?


A My Magician Story--A Continuation

I was slowly led into the outer room of the hotel suite. Everything felt huge and empty as I concentrated on what I knew to be sure: his hand on my arm, his voice asking, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” I responded, At least mostly.
His hand brushed down, from my shoulder to my elbow, “I'll be right back.”
Seconds later, I felt him slip something around my neck, fiddle with it, then take one of my wrists in his hand.
He had said this spanking was going to be “a surprise, something different”. I had searched my brain to come up with what that meant. And this was a good surprise. I've always had a doctor-fascination, and part of being tied up feels like you are about to be operated on or “treated” or something....I know, I know. That's a bit weird. Don't freak out folks, if you can help it.
But the good doctor was having problems with my wrist-shackles, or whatever he was trying to use. After many fumbles and attempts (which were producing giggles from me), he sighed, “Alright, when all else fails, try something else.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said brightly, fairly sure there would be no castigation for my sucking-up even though it broke the Punishment -Spanking- Rule about not talking.
His new plan worked and before I knew it, my hands were fastened near my head, apparently to the collar-like thing on my neck (of which I was trying not to think much , never having fantasized about a collar, and actually having a great dislike for them, thinking them hideous, something I'd not told My Magician).
The rest is hard to remember in detail.
I stood in position, bottom out, in what seemed like the largest open space I'd ever been in. He had a crop, and it hurt in a way nothing had hurt before. The blows would come fast, then stop , then come again when I was still trying to recover from the first bunch.
It was different than anything I'd ever experienced. There was nowhere for my captured mind to flee.
At first, I tried to think. It' s going to stop soon. It won't be as hard in just a bit. But there was nothing to focus on in that darkness. Only the next blow. Then the next. When one stopped, one started.
My knees started to crumble, and my mind could not breathe.
Then his arms were around my waist, and I was falling across his lap. Whimpers smothered by the sound of the crop starting up again. I felt trapped, angry. About to lose control.
Incensed, I blurted, “I'm just done, okay?” It was not a question, but a statement. And a statement I did not expect him to agree with.
The crop stopped, and his hands were on my wrists. One quick movement and they were released, the mask sliding off. Confused and ashamed, I slipped off his lap and knelt on the floor. Peeked up at his face.
“Are you okay?”
I felt confused by the concern on his face and squinted, nodding fast. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
“Give me your hands, I'll take those off.”
“Just a minute,” I mumbled, jerking my hands back, realizing how sweaty they were—something that happens whenever I'm spanked. Appalled that I had almost wiped them on the knees of his jeans (seriously, it would have been convenient), I rubbed them against my bare thighs.
“Are you sure you're alright?”
“Uhm hmm.” I nodded hard.
He rose, sat on the couch, patted the seat, “Sit down, it's okay, you're fine.”
I sat cross-legged at the end of the couch. It's over, don't cry now. But I'm not a spanko anymore. Something's wrong. Something's wrong with me. Why couldn't I take that?
We sat for a bit, saying nothing.
“Bonnie-jo, you don't look happy.” He prodded.
I attempted a smile, “Yeah.”
“You know, we don't have a safe word. We never did. That can be very dangerous if you don't know someone well. And I don't feel like I know you well enough to gauge when you mean stop, and when you don't. That's why I did.”
“I'm glad.” I breathed.
More awkward silence....or was it a “right” silence? I didn't know.
“But,” I began, “I'm mad. I'm not mad at you, just at me. Why couldn't I keep going? I don't like it that I wanted to stop.”
“We all have limits, Bonnie-jo. You were taking a heck of a spanking. You did fine.”
I realized a bit later, after more breathing and calming down in general, that I'd forgotten my childhood fear of the dark. I'd slept with the light on for a year or two, and my biggest worry about the “Millennium Bug” had been that the electricity would go out, and I'd somehow die of terror. (Water, food, heat—those were non-issues.) I still don't like completely dark rooms when sleeping, refuse to stare out into one, dealing with the issue by closing my eyes and falling asleep.
I told My Magician about this forgotten fear, and my reaction began to make so much sense.
“You know we aren't done yet, Young Lady, we're just taking a break.”
I nodded happily, the world beginning to right itself. He waited for awhile, letting me get fully adjusted to the safe, lighted world.
“You know what I had to use to tie your wrists? The cuffs I brought were too large and were slipping off.”
“No, what?”
“My watches. Luckily I just bought a new one so I had two on hand.”
Later, still okay with the tying part of the plan, just not the being blind part, I lay across a bench, wrists back in the famous watches. My ankles were in cuffs too, and each appendage (it does sound like an operation, doesn't it?) was fastened to a leg of the bench. There was a cane, and there was some lecturing. Then the perfect amount of spanking. I was whimpering and sorry and writhing, and then it was over.
And if he ever asks me again, "Do you trust me?" I will.


A "My Magician" Story

My knees made popping noises every few seconds (too much jogging on cement, I guess), but I had to keep pacing. As long as I could walk back and forth in that hotel bathroom, I wasn't scared. He's taking forever on purpose...he's probably watching t.v. or something, smiling to himself at the anxiety he knows he's causing. I bet he can hear me pacing. Fine, I don't need to pace. Fine.
I sat down on the closed toilet seat and became very aware of my attire.A white bra and white thong. I hopped off the seat and took a long look in the mirror. This was a first. The other times I'd been spanked, I'd at least had a shirt on. He said our relationship won't be sexual, I griped. Do I really trust him? But I knew I did,at least, as much as I could.
I worked hard to make my mind a blank as I waited. This bathroom -solitary-confinement was not about to get to me!
I remembered our conversation before I'd locked the bathroom door.
"Are you nervous for this spanking, Bonnie-jo?"
"Not at all."
He smiled indulgently. "Silly girl."
Finally, there was a knock on the door. Then it opened slightly,and a hand reached in and brushed off the lights.
I forced a smile in the dark, laughed, "Did you do that on purpose?"
There was a bit of fumbling, then the light came back on. "That was working too well, " he said ruefully, "I have to see to put this on you." He held a black sleeping mask, and quickly slipped it over my head.

(It is late, and I have homework and I'm too tired to write more...I'll finish the story another day. How evil is that? So sorry.)


Warning to all spankos

A word to the wise: non-vanilla life can be damn painful, and I don't mean the good kind of pain.

I just need to voice frustration and pain. Maybe I just need to suck it up. But it's so hard.

You never can get exactly what you want. So how do you decide on something? Is choosing your friends (and then choosing between your friends) as simple and crude as comparing brands of bread at the grocery store? Why can't you have different kind of breads in your kitchen? Why does it end up in bread clashes?

And why do I have this great need for my various breads to understand me completely? So that I end up talking too much...like I'm doing right now. Kill me now.

My dad is helping me do my taxes, and I just realized I have an entire W-2 that I overlooked. Perhaps all that tax-return money I thought was mine really isn't after all. My dad is getting over a horrible cold and he spends his stronger moments ironing out glitches in my taxes. I feel guilty and spoiled.

May be it's warranted. May be it's not.

At the hotel where I met College Guy, we'd had a long day at the zoo and had returned after eating Thai Food. And I was in a bad mood. I was feeling ungrateful, dissatisfied with myself and him and everything in between. And I didn't know why. But the truth came out.

I stared down at the bedspread. We were supposed to be playing a board game, but instead I was grumbling and philosophizing about how terrible life was, and at one point, I told him that he wasn't giving me what I needed. That I needed someone to be mean. To punish me not because I needed it and they would help me. But to punish me because they wanted to hurt me, because they liked hurting me. He flipped. I remember the sound of his voice, like he was trying to speak past a lump in his throat, like speaking was difficult. I didn't look at his face.

"Stay there, I'm going to go get lotion. If that's what you think you need, then I'll give you a taste of it. You're so wrong, Bonnie-jo. You don't need that."

"Just leave me alone. Like I said, I don't want you to do it. I want someone who doesn't care to do it." I grumbled.

"I'm going to blister your butt, because that's what you think you need, but then we're going to talk about this."

"It won't help. Please don't!"

Then there was that look. And then in the strongest voice I've ever heard from him, "Get over the end of the bed. Now."

I ended up over his lap somehow. I couldn't keep still. It got to the point where I was biting the bedspread, fighting hard.

But it didn't change me. I'm still the same. Still, I like thinking about it.


Bath brushes, Procrastination, and I Have a Bottom

I haven't written in forever, I know. There are many reasons--spring break, business, and yes...perhaps a bit of laziness. But I'm back!!!
I have a great need to write, for in just a few days, I will be meeting "College Guy" for the weekend. So you all have to hear about my nerves and feel jealous of all the spankings I'm going to get. I'll get back to you on those. Perhaps I'll explain them in detail, and you'll just feel sorry for me instead. I don't know where he ever learned to spank so well and so quickly.( He started out as a pretty sucky spanker, actually.) I've been instructed to bring the Cheater-bath brush. (That's what I've decided to call it.)
I was given this bath brush by "My Magician" the second day we met up. That morning I had received the hardest spanking of my life, and his idea of aftercare was to drive to a department store and have me ask the sales associates if they carried bath brushes. Realizing there was no way out, I stuck my nose in the air and asked professionally, as thought I hadn't a care in the world. When we finally found an adequate one at Walmart (and yes, adequate means it had to be tested on me first) we traveled the length of the store searching for a seemingly phantom energy bar that was supposedly delicious and that he wanted to buy more of for his hotel room. I attempted to speed up our pace and get out of that store, for My Magician was becoming far too entertained with smacking the bath brush decidedly against the palm of his hand, while threatening random members of the Walmart crowd with menacing looks, then looking decidedly at me. So embarrassing!! Except for this one dude in the crowd who couldn't stop looking from My Magician to me and then back to my Magician. He was either confused or knew exactly what was happening.
I'm getting a birthday spanking the last day I visit College Guy--the first birthday spanking of my life. I'm afraid, though, that we have too many spankings planned, and thus, since the birthday spanking is last, it might not be very long.
One of the sessions planned is addressing the procrastination I've supposedly been modeling this semester. Okay, so it's true, but whatever happened to the hippy-like and free thought that procrastination while getting A's is a sort of skill--a talent that when honed is thought of as something truly collegiate and well-rounded? What happened to the gamble, to the adrenaline rush when writing a 3 page paper one hour before it's due? I never performed all-nighters, but what happened to waking up at 5am to study 3 whole hours before a test because you've done nothing so far, not even the reading? You may say to me, "Get a job, stay in school, then you can keep that adrenaline flowing full stream..." And I would tell you that you're right.
We are going to the zoo together,College Guy and I. It's always good to clear one's head when there has been a lot of spanking going on. I think it'll be a fantastic break.
So that's about it, guys. I don't know if I will write until I get back. Hopefully I'll have a good story or two. Until then, my thoughts continue to run along these lines, inspired by one of my favorite spanko heroes' "I have a bottom, I have a bottom, I have a bottom." It's just something that one thinks about a great deal during times like these. (Actually,lol, I think about it all the time anyway....)