I stand in front College Guy's seated form. I'm close, vulnerable, but unrepentant. It's going to take a good deal this time. I don't realize that he already knows this fact.
He says little. In a few firm sentences which I barely hear or understand, he lets me know why I am standing before him, what necessitated his action.
He asks me if I have anything to say.
I have nothing. I have removed myself from the situation. I'm anything but resigned. I'm uncaring.
"Step back three steps." This is not the usual beginning. "Turn around." I obey. It's not yet time to resist. "Take off your jeans and your panties." I do so. And I stand there. I could stand there for years, and it wouldn't faze me.
Nothing matters.
In a dreamy part of my mind, I hear him moving behind my back, then silence.
"Stay still, Bonnie-jo. Do not move until I tell you too."
I wait for a long time. Or maybe it's a short time. I do not care.
Then he is behind me. He slaps one cheek then the other, just hard enough to stir my desire for this, just hard enough to make me wish that I will be overthrown. His hand rests between my cheeks, moves a bit lower, and causes me to squirm slightly as he says, "I'm putting the blindfold on you now." I want to turn and see his face, but I hold still as he ties the silk cloth around my composed face.
His hands are on my shoulders, turning me around to face him, and he smooths back a strand of hair momentarily. Then he places his fingers on my mouth, and they linger there.
"This is going to be the most important part of you for the next hour or two, Bonnie-jo. Yeah, it may not feel like the most important part...but this is what is going to get you into the most trouble during this spanking if you don't play your cards right. And this is what could potentially make a memorable but shorter spanking if you do play your cards right. Do you understand?"
I don't respond.
He always reacts the same.
With complete silence. There is no wheedling or threatening, no anger, not even a "I thought as much". Just action.
I'm unceremoniously led to the bed. He places my hand on it. "Lay down. I want you in a spread eagle position. Now."
We've never done this before.
He ties each wrist to the headboard posts, and each ankle to the foot board posts.
I attempt to wriggle. I can hardly move a muscle.
And the fear comes creeping into my brain, like tiny ants under a door frame. No, please, no.
"I know you're a little scared right now, so I'm going to help you out." His hand is now resting on my bottom. He slaps it hard.
"I wouldn't normally do this because I've spanked you for homework issues before. So technically, you shouldn't be getting a warm up, especially because your mouth seems to have a problem answering me in a proper way. But I'm going to give you one anyway."
I moan inside as the slaps come down hard. They hurt in the best way possible. And I don't want them to. Sometimes, kindness hurts more than brutality, and the thought that he cares about my fear, that he cares enough to administer the warm-up, this thought I cannot stand.
A small moan catches in my throat, and I quickly draw a breath and let it out. His hand stops.
"Are you enjoying this, my dear?"
Silence.
"I need an answer on that, I'm afraid, because if you are, then I'm not doing my job right."
Silence.
"Uh, huh. Consider that all the warm up you're getting."
I find my voice and speak for the first time since this started. "You suck."
Silence. Then, his words hard, but slow and measured. "You are entitled to your opinion, but now is not the time to say that. Your mouth will open only when I'm asking you a question. Do you understand?"
Silence.
He sighs, the first sign of frustration since we started. "You know, you are not doing yourself any favors today, Young Lady."
But I don't care what is about to happen. Please, please, please, spank me until I'm sobbing, begging you to stop. Spank me until I can't resist you any longer. Spank me until I'm promising you I'll be better, and not because you want me to be better, but because I want me to be better.
Spank me until I feel powerless, weak, open, so that I can feel like supergirl once again.
Don't listen to my rude comments, my jibes, my protests, my explanations. Expect better of me. Spank me. Please, please spank me.
8.28.2010
Taught to the Tune of a Hickory Stick
Well, college has begun again. I'm taking 18 credits, working part time, talking to College Guy long into the night hours so that I that I get small amounts of sleep (nudge, nudge), and thus, it's been a week since I've posted. I am committed to this blog, however, so although the length of posts may shorten (hmm..that might not ever happen), I will try to keep posting at least once a week, and I will continue to read others' blogs. I don't know if I could stand not to.
The first week back to school has been overwhelming, but I've managed to keep college in its proper realm and focus on what is important in life.
For example, my Logic prof was lecturing on premises, conclusions, and how to distinguish non-arguments from arguments.
(Slight pause while Bonnie-jo digs out her lecture notes and tries to find the spot that she wants to talk about. ) Okay, so it was only day two in Logic, and I probably don't have this completely understood. Basically, we talked about arguments in which the conclusion is implied but not stated.
Our Logic prof gave this example: "If your mom walks into your room and says 'This room is going to be cleaned by one of us, and I'm telling you now, I'm not going to clean this room!' , what is the implied conclusion?" Most of the class obediently answered, "I'm going to clean the room," while a few rebels muttered, "No way, no way..."
I, however, was trying to think up my own, more creative examples. I came up with two:
*College Guy has somehow cajoled me over his thigh as he sits against the bed's headboard, Gepetto (the bath brush) in hand. "You can tell me what's going on in your head, Bonnie-jo. Or I can continue this all night long. We've got about 11 hours until checkout."
* "I know you probably feel horrible about what you did. We'll talk about this. "---My Magician
Then in the auditoreum for my Astronomy class, I couldn't help but notice how sliding past people's knees to get to my seat makes me imagine what would happen if someone slid his legs out a bit, and I happened to trip...and whoopsie...a spanking in astronomy class....Sigh...yeah, I know that was a stretch.
Then, in my British Lit. class, we were studying an abolitionist text, in which the horrors and brutalities of various whippings were described. I'm not discrediting the absolute evil of what happened to these people. At least, I do not mean to. Still, I found it oddly embarrassing to participate in my groups discussion. And, in all actuality, this entire experience makes me angry at myself.
I'm not saying that spankings don't hurt, but I want them. I want the pain. These people had no choice. And, mostly, I hate that the thought of the horror they experienced is a springboard for my own, more comforting thoughts. These are the moments when I do feel a bit sicko-ish.
When I read or hear about people who have been abused and tortured, my mind will quickly flit to my own experiences with "torture". But I know this is simply a coping mechanism. Since I was about 10 years old and heard about "martyrs for Christ" and about how you "can't deny Jesus", I've worried and feared torture.
And in a way, although my attraction to it runs so much deeper on many different levels, spanking is a way for me to deal with my fear of pain. After a spanking, I feel like I can handle anything life throws at me. Particularly after a hard spanking dealt by My Magician, I feel like I've conquered something weighty, and anything else I come up against in life will be small potatoes.
But a spanking offers no more than psychological protection. There is (usually) no real blood. There is definitely no chance of death, or rape, or even broken bones. I have no idea what real abuse is like.
So...before I continue on that ponderous trail, I will close by assuring you I'm paying attention in class for the most part...just remembering what's important in life too. :)
The first week back to school has been overwhelming, but I've managed to keep college in its proper realm and focus on what is important in life.
For example, my Logic prof was lecturing on premises, conclusions, and how to distinguish non-arguments from arguments.
(Slight pause while Bonnie-jo digs out her lecture notes and tries to find the spot that she wants to talk about. ) Okay, so it was only day two in Logic, and I probably don't have this completely understood. Basically, we talked about arguments in which the conclusion is implied but not stated.
Our Logic prof gave this example: "If your mom walks into your room and says 'This room is going to be cleaned by one of us, and I'm telling you now, I'm not going to clean this room!' , what is the implied conclusion?" Most of the class obediently answered, "I'm going to clean the room," while a few rebels muttered, "No way, no way..."
I, however, was trying to think up my own, more creative examples. I came up with two:
*College Guy has somehow cajoled me over his thigh as he sits against the bed's headboard, Gepetto (the bath brush) in hand. "You can tell me what's going on in your head, Bonnie-jo. Or I can continue this all night long. We've got about 11 hours until checkout."
* "I know you probably feel horrible about what you did. We'll talk about this. "---My Magician
Then in the auditoreum for my Astronomy class, I couldn't help but notice how sliding past people's knees to get to my seat makes me imagine what would happen if someone slid his legs out a bit, and I happened to trip...and whoopsie...a spanking in astronomy class....Sigh...yeah, I know that was a stretch.
Then, in my British Lit. class, we were studying an abolitionist text, in which the horrors and brutalities of various whippings were described. I'm not discrediting the absolute evil of what happened to these people. At least, I do not mean to. Still, I found it oddly embarrassing to participate in my groups discussion. And, in all actuality, this entire experience makes me angry at myself.
I'm not saying that spankings don't hurt, but I want them. I want the pain. These people had no choice. And, mostly, I hate that the thought of the horror they experienced is a springboard for my own, more comforting thoughts. These are the moments when I do feel a bit sicko-ish.
When I read or hear about people who have been abused and tortured, my mind will quickly flit to my own experiences with "torture". But I know this is simply a coping mechanism. Since I was about 10 years old and heard about "martyrs for Christ" and about how you "can't deny Jesus", I've worried and feared torture.
And in a way, although my attraction to it runs so much deeper on many different levels, spanking is a way for me to deal with my fear of pain. After a spanking, I feel like I can handle anything life throws at me. Particularly after a hard spanking dealt by My Magician, I feel like I've conquered something weighty, and anything else I come up against in life will be small potatoes.
But a spanking offers no more than psychological protection. There is (usually) no real blood. There is definitely no chance of death, or rape, or even broken bones. I have no idea what real abuse is like.
So...before I continue on that ponderous trail, I will close by assuring you I'm paying attention in class for the most part...just remembering what's important in life too. :)
8.18.2010
Cracklin' Rosie Get on Board
"Oh I love my Rosie child,
She got the way to make me happy---"
(Neil Diamond)
I heard this song on the radio while jogging this morning. You better believe that it made my steps quicken. A huge smile broke onto my sweaty face, and I had to try not to giggle out loud. Do you guys do this.....make random/totally stretching connections with completely non-spanko-there-is-no-possible-way-to-make-this-a-that's-what-the-spanko-said-joke or song? Well, to explain my crazy mind, it was the "CRACKLIN'" part that got me going....and then the "ROSIE" part. Anything that is "cracklin'" on something "rosie" is quite alright with me, and it is "the way to make me happy---" I don't think I'm that crazy, do you?
This is going to be a Bonnie-jo makes 2 wierd connections at work blog.
I work at a clothing store, and about the second or third day of my first week, I was called into the security room--you know, the one with all the cameras--to do a quick orientation with the security guard working at our store. I sat at a small table, freaking out inside that I was in a dark, closed-in room, all alone, with a police officer. How lucky can a girl get? On the outside, though, I was the professional employee.
He shook my hand, and right away I knew he had that anti-social cop, awkward thing going on.
"You're not in trouble," he warned me. "The last girl I had in here got really scared. She thought she was in trouble or something."
"Ahhh..." I smiled. "No, of course not. I know I'm not."
"I've been working at this company for the last 5 years," He beamed. "See, it says so on that certificate by the door."
I craned my head to look.
"Just underneath the handcuffs." He directed.
"Oh. Yes. I see them...I mean, I see it, yeah, cool."
Suffice it to say, my day was made. It was a real pair of handcuffs....I resisted the urge to ask to touch them....
And item number two:
A couple of days ago, one of the managers/leads at my job called me over. I have liked this girl from the moment I saw her. Tall, slender, short black hair, and dark eyes...she had an edginess that I always admire. I learned later in the breakroom that I admire her personality too. She reminded me of the type of girl I've imagined My Magician's former spankee is like--my only contact being her blog....
"I'm a smart-ass..." This manager grinned at me. "I try to keep a lid on it, but I think people should just be brutally honest. I always say, why lie when the truth is so much more fun?" And later as she told me about her mom with cancer and her grandma that is still alive, "We always tell people that God's not ready for that much onery-ness in heaven yet. He doesn't want to have to deal with them. Not quite yet. Too onery."
Anyway, so this girl-crush of mine walked up to me the other day, and cautioned me on a couple of things I needed to focus on for work that day. That isn't the important part. The important part is that she had a long 6 by 14 or so flat piece of plastic in her hands as she told me about my duties for the day. Distracting.....At one point she looked down to see what she was holding...Actually, I didn't notice that she was holding a paddle-like object until she herself looked down and explained, "The only reason I'm holding this is because I tripped on the thing."
"Oh." I smiled. May be it was my fault you tripped...maybe you should do something about this....
But she didn't read my mind and walked away. I watched her walk, however, and my effort was rewarded, for she slapped her palm once with the offending object. I saw it with my own eyes!
She got the way to make me happy---"
(Neil Diamond)
I heard this song on the radio while jogging this morning. You better believe that it made my steps quicken. A huge smile broke onto my sweaty face, and I had to try not to giggle out loud. Do you guys do this.....make random/totally stretching connections with completely non-spanko-there-is-no-possible-way-to-make-this-a-that's-what-the-spanko-said-joke or song? Well, to explain my crazy mind, it was the "CRACKLIN'" part that got me going....and then the "ROSIE" part. Anything that is "cracklin'" on something "rosie" is quite alright with me, and it is "the way to make me happy---" I don't think I'm that crazy, do you?
This is going to be a Bonnie-jo makes 2 wierd connections at work blog.
I work at a clothing store, and about the second or third day of my first week, I was called into the security room--you know, the one with all the cameras--to do a quick orientation with the security guard working at our store. I sat at a small table, freaking out inside that I was in a dark, closed-in room, all alone, with a police officer. How lucky can a girl get? On the outside, though, I was the professional employee.
He shook my hand, and right away I knew he had that anti-social cop, awkward thing going on.
"You're not in trouble," he warned me. "The last girl I had in here got really scared. She thought she was in trouble or something."
"Ahhh..." I smiled. "No, of course not. I know I'm not."
"I've been working at this company for the last 5 years," He beamed. "See, it says so on that certificate by the door."
I craned my head to look.
"Just underneath the handcuffs." He directed.
"Oh. Yes. I see them...I mean, I see it, yeah, cool."
Suffice it to say, my day was made. It was a real pair of handcuffs....I resisted the urge to ask to touch them....
And item number two:
A couple of days ago, one of the managers/leads at my job called me over. I have liked this girl from the moment I saw her. Tall, slender, short black hair, and dark eyes...she had an edginess that I always admire. I learned later in the breakroom that I admire her personality too. She reminded me of the type of girl I've imagined My Magician's former spankee is like--my only contact being her blog....
"I'm a smart-ass..." This manager grinned at me. "I try to keep a lid on it, but I think people should just be brutally honest. I always say, why lie when the truth is so much more fun?" And later as she told me about her mom with cancer and her grandma that is still alive, "We always tell people that God's not ready for that much onery-ness in heaven yet. He doesn't want to have to deal with them. Not quite yet. Too onery."
Anyway, so this girl-crush of mine walked up to me the other day, and cautioned me on a couple of things I needed to focus on for work that day. That isn't the important part. The important part is that she had a long 6 by 14 or so flat piece of plastic in her hands as she told me about my duties for the day. Distracting.....At one point she looked down to see what she was holding...Actually, I didn't notice that she was holding a paddle-like object until she herself looked down and explained, "The only reason I'm holding this is because I tripped on the thing."
"Oh." I smiled. May be it was my fault you tripped...maybe you should do something about this....
But she didn't read my mind and walked away. I watched her walk, however, and my effort was rewarded, for she slapped her palm once with the offending object. I saw it with my own eyes!
8.16.2010
A Great Way to Wake Up
I woke up in the hotel room to Cllege Guy's whisper, "Bonnie-jo, you awake?"
"Uhmph...what time is it?" I muttered sleepily. I always mutter some similar question when first woken up. It's a die-hard habit I've had as a kid. Make them talk to you and they'll think you're awake and listening. Then may be they'll leave you alone and you can fall back to sleep.
"Almost time to wake up."
"Uhmmph."
I flip over, pull my pillow over my head, and begin to breathe heavily. I'm almost asleep when I hear the bed jostle, then still. Padding feet plop over to the far corner, and rustling noises ensue.
My body is completely relaxed and grasping at sleep, but my mind begins to rebeliously awaken.
What's he up to? What's he doing? What's he going to do to me? He wouldn't spank me now, would he? I hope he will....
I sigh and kick off the sheet , buring my head deeply in the pillow.
I'm aware of the picture I make---and surprised that I fell asleep in the state I did. A white bra and white lacy thong.....do you know how uncomfortable thongs (a.k.a. butt-floss) are?? (Not to mention sleeping in a bra.)
I push my bottom the tiniest bit into the air as my spread-eagle sleeping position widens. Come on, College Guy, I think, as I flex my telekinisis skills. Please spank me now.
Slap!
Ahhh...just what I was hoping for. What a nice way to wake up....How perfect....But I lay still, pretending to be asleep. Let's see if he'll go away. Maybe I can make him feel guilty.
Slap, pause. CRACK! Pause. I'm now concentrating on not moving. It's beginning to hurt a little bit. He has the strap, I'm sure of the fact. No sweet hand spanking first thing in the morning...what a monster....
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK. "Owww!!!", I whimper and try to roll away. "I'm awake, okay???"
His hand holds my back firmly to the bed. "I see you're awake. Isn't this a great way to wake up?"
"Uhh, huh...I'm getting up." I grumble.
"Not yet. You're not going anywhere just quite yet...."
"Uhmph...what time is it?" I muttered sleepily. I always mutter some similar question when first woken up. It's a die-hard habit I've had as a kid. Make them talk to you and they'll think you're awake and listening. Then may be they'll leave you alone and you can fall back to sleep.
"Almost time to wake up."
"Uhmmph."
I flip over, pull my pillow over my head, and begin to breathe heavily. I'm almost asleep when I hear the bed jostle, then still. Padding feet plop over to the far corner, and rustling noises ensue.
My body is completely relaxed and grasping at sleep, but my mind begins to rebeliously awaken.
What's he up to? What's he doing? What's he going to do to me? He wouldn't spank me now, would he? I hope he will....
I sigh and kick off the sheet , buring my head deeply in the pillow.
I'm aware of the picture I make---and surprised that I fell asleep in the state I did. A white bra and white lacy thong.....do you know how uncomfortable thongs (a.k.a. butt-floss) are?? (Not to mention sleeping in a bra.)
I push my bottom the tiniest bit into the air as my spread-eagle sleeping position widens. Come on, College Guy, I think, as I flex my telekinisis skills. Please spank me now.
Slap!
Ahhh...just what I was hoping for. What a nice way to wake up....How perfect....But I lay still, pretending to be asleep. Let's see if he'll go away. Maybe I can make him feel guilty.
Slap, pause. CRACK! Pause. I'm now concentrating on not moving. It's beginning to hurt a little bit. He has the strap, I'm sure of the fact. No sweet hand spanking first thing in the morning...what a monster....
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK. "Owww!!!", I whimper and try to roll away. "I'm awake, okay???"
His hand holds my back firmly to the bed. "I see you're awake. Isn't this a great way to wake up?"
"Uhh, huh...I'm getting up." I grumble.
"Not yet. You're not going anywhere just quite yet...."
Good Girl or Bad Girl?
I've always been the good girl.
Don't get me wrong, I've had my moments of mischef. But those were moments I could count on one hand.
Teachers counted on me to watch the class when I was gone. My parents left me in charge. Other kids parents trusted me. But I remember the class clowns, the bad kids, the kids with "behavior problems". They received the attention, and not just the teacher's attention, but they held their place securely as the class' main entertainment. And they held my secret wish to be like them.
I remember wishing that my parents did not love me. Their love forced me, I felt, to be good, to not dissapoint. My parents had this special way of looking at me and my brothers with sad eyes and a long sigh, "I'm very dissapointed in you," they'd say. They didn't say it much. I made sure of that.
Well, needless to say, you can't live your life for someone else forever. You can't be pefectly "good" in someone's eyes forever. No matter how hard you try. So I finally failed to an extent. I dated a guy they didn't approve of and lived with him. It was a good start on the road to being bad.
So when I met "My Magician", I told him I'm not one of those spankos who secretly wants approval and wants to be "good". I felt I wasn't a submissive at heart. I thought I was a rebel through and through. A good girl who wanted the chance to be bad.
So I've been given chances, and I've taken them. It's freeing. I can be bad!!!!!!!!!!! And I won't lose people right away if I do. They forgive me. And then they spank me too, but hey, works for me....
But what about when the relationship deepens and I do start to care? Where is the freedom to be bad? I feel like it's shrinking, and the more I care, the more it shrinks. I like caring, but I like being bad too.
Or do I?
I'm not sure.
Yes, it's fun to brat and annoy a top. It's fun to see what he will do, to see his tolerance level and response.
But what about letting someone down? What about when I hear, "I'm dissapointed in you, Bonnie-jo." What about when I have to confess the darkness inside of me? It hurts. It doesn't hurt as much as a spanking, but it lasts much longer, potentially a life time.
It doesn't have to last a lifetime, of course. But the truth is that my choices can bring spankings, but my choices can also bring about a broken relationship. That scares me. A lot.
When I do something really wrong--like kissing an Irish guy in a bar when I'm dating College Guy--it overwhelms me. Maybe it's the fact that I'm not used to being bad. Or maybe it's that I actually want to be a good person. I don't know. I'm just incredibly surprised every time I feel horrible about something I've done. Is it that the values of my moral upbringing are still here? Probably so.
But when I dissapoint, things happen. It used to be this huge question mark with my parents---how hurt will they become? I've learned some about how hurt they can be, but even more so, I've learned that I have to be who I am. And College Guy or My Magician say they are dissapointed and spank me, they are not going away, they are not becoming a victim, and they are not wishing I was not their friend anymore. To me, a spanking equals acceptance, love, caring.
I get high on this. I am comforted by this. So no, I'm not a good girl yearning to be bad. At least that's not the complete picture.
I'm a good girl and a bad girl.
And when I'm bad, I am spanked.
So that I can be a good girl again.
P.S. But I still like being bad....at least for a couple seconds. Don't we all?
Don't get me wrong, I've had my moments of mischef. But those were moments I could count on one hand.
Teachers counted on me to watch the class when I was gone. My parents left me in charge. Other kids parents trusted me. But I remember the class clowns, the bad kids, the kids with "behavior problems". They received the attention, and not just the teacher's attention, but they held their place securely as the class' main entertainment. And they held my secret wish to be like them.
I remember wishing that my parents did not love me. Their love forced me, I felt, to be good, to not dissapoint. My parents had this special way of looking at me and my brothers with sad eyes and a long sigh, "I'm very dissapointed in you," they'd say. They didn't say it much. I made sure of that.
Well, needless to say, you can't live your life for someone else forever. You can't be pefectly "good" in someone's eyes forever. No matter how hard you try. So I finally failed to an extent. I dated a guy they didn't approve of and lived with him. It was a good start on the road to being bad.
So when I met "My Magician", I told him I'm not one of those spankos who secretly wants approval and wants to be "good". I felt I wasn't a submissive at heart. I thought I was a rebel through and through. A good girl who wanted the chance to be bad.
So I've been given chances, and I've taken them. It's freeing. I can be bad!!!!!!!!!!! And I won't lose people right away if I do. They forgive me. And then they spank me too, but hey, works for me....
But what about when the relationship deepens and I do start to care? Where is the freedom to be bad? I feel like it's shrinking, and the more I care, the more it shrinks. I like caring, but I like being bad too.
Or do I?
I'm not sure.
Yes, it's fun to brat and annoy a top. It's fun to see what he will do, to see his tolerance level and response.
But what about letting someone down? What about when I hear, "I'm dissapointed in you, Bonnie-jo." What about when I have to confess the darkness inside of me? It hurts. It doesn't hurt as much as a spanking, but it lasts much longer, potentially a life time.
It doesn't have to last a lifetime, of course. But the truth is that my choices can bring spankings, but my choices can also bring about a broken relationship. That scares me. A lot.
When I do something really wrong--like kissing an Irish guy in a bar when I'm dating College Guy--it overwhelms me. Maybe it's the fact that I'm not used to being bad. Or maybe it's that I actually want to be a good person. I don't know. I'm just incredibly surprised every time I feel horrible about something I've done. Is it that the values of my moral upbringing are still here? Probably so.
But when I dissapoint, things happen. It used to be this huge question mark with my parents---how hurt will they become? I've learned some about how hurt they can be, but even more so, I've learned that I have to be who I am. And College Guy or My Magician say they are dissapointed and spank me, they are not going away, they are not becoming a victim, and they are not wishing I was not their friend anymore. To me, a spanking equals acceptance, love, caring.
I get high on this. I am comforted by this. So no, I'm not a good girl yearning to be bad. At least that's not the complete picture.
I'm a good girl and a bad girl.
And when I'm bad, I am spanked.
So that I can be a good girl again.
P.S. But I still like being bad....at least for a couple seconds. Don't we all?
8.12.2010
Fix Me Now!
It's been at least 2 weeks since my last spanking. That is 14 days too long to go without a tender bottom. I'm feeling the burn, the emptiness, the ache, the yearn. Or maybe it's just that time of the month....But man, oh man, oh man.
It's funny, but the more I need a spanking, the more I feel teary, weepy, depressed. You'd think it the opposite. That spanking would bring tears and not-spanking would bring happiness or a greatfulness--the greatfulness of being able to sit down without wincing (or in my case, of being able to stand up without wincing. Seriously, I think standing up hurts more, hours after a spanking. It must be blood pressure or something....)
My vanilla ex and I used to argue about my need for a DD style relationship. I didn't want there to be that much DD, just a hint of control and some spanking. He argued that it was psychologically wrong and hurtful. That I'd become dependent on it, on giving up, on not taking control, on being submissive. It's times like these when I wonder if perhaps he was a bit right.
A guy on a recent blog ( I can't remember which one, sorry, and haven't figured out linking anyway) asked the question. "Why can't she just ask for a spanking if she needs one?" He received much info on various bottom's perspectives, and I agree for the most part.
Most answers centered on the bottom not being in the right place emotionally to take control of the situation or of having issues of embarrassment, shame or being needy. I also add that it also feels wrong. If you are struggling you need to fix yourself. Anything else seems needy in our self-reliant world.
"The day you ask me for a spanking will be a great day in history," College Guy told me not long ago.
"You'd really be okay with me doing that?" I marvel.
"I've been waiting for it."
"You have?"
"And when you do, I'll probably do some silly dance of happiness and then take you out to eat after I spank you."
With a promise like that, I know I'll have to give it a try. But for now, I live miles and miles and miles away from him. I want to ask for one now. I want him to fix me now. I have a new job I just started, new classes coming up. And I want courage now. I want to cry and cry and cry now. Now, now, now, now.
Okay, so I'm hoping my rant made me feel better. Not sure yet.
We all have our struggles and problems, and mine are really not bad at all. If I were to try to count my blessings (which I certainly don't feel like doing at this whiny moment) I'd have a lot of them. Life is so often good.
So what do you do when life feels bad, when your heart aches for something that you can't have, when the lust creeps in, and all you can feel is the emptiness of want?
You keep on agoin', you look for good things to come, and you don't stop.
I think I'll give it a try. I'll give it a try, but ARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG, I want to be fixed NOW.
It's funny, but the more I need a spanking, the more I feel teary, weepy, depressed. You'd think it the opposite. That spanking would bring tears and not-spanking would bring happiness or a greatfulness--the greatfulness of being able to sit down without wincing (or in my case, of being able to stand up without wincing. Seriously, I think standing up hurts more, hours after a spanking. It must be blood pressure or something....)
My vanilla ex and I used to argue about my need for a DD style relationship. I didn't want there to be that much DD, just a hint of control and some spanking. He argued that it was psychologically wrong and hurtful. That I'd become dependent on it, on giving up, on not taking control, on being submissive. It's times like these when I wonder if perhaps he was a bit right.
A guy on a recent blog ( I can't remember which one, sorry, and haven't figured out linking anyway) asked the question. "Why can't she just ask for a spanking if she needs one?" He received much info on various bottom's perspectives, and I agree for the most part.
Most answers centered on the bottom not being in the right place emotionally to take control of the situation or of having issues of embarrassment, shame or being needy. I also add that it also feels wrong. If you are struggling you need to fix yourself. Anything else seems needy in our self-reliant world.
"The day you ask me for a spanking will be a great day in history," College Guy told me not long ago.
"You'd really be okay with me doing that?" I marvel.
"I've been waiting for it."
"You have?"
"And when you do, I'll probably do some silly dance of happiness and then take you out to eat after I spank you."
With a promise like that, I know I'll have to give it a try. But for now, I live miles and miles and miles away from him. I want to ask for one now. I want him to fix me now. I have a new job I just started, new classes coming up. And I want courage now. I want to cry and cry and cry now. Now, now, now, now.
Okay, so I'm hoping my rant made me feel better. Not sure yet.
We all have our struggles and problems, and mine are really not bad at all. If I were to try to count my blessings (which I certainly don't feel like doing at this whiny moment) I'd have a lot of them. Life is so often good.
So what do you do when life feels bad, when your heart aches for something that you can't have, when the lust creeps in, and all you can feel is the emptiness of want?
You keep on agoin', you look for good things to come, and you don't stop.
I think I'll give it a try. I'll give it a try, but ARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG, I want to be fixed NOW.
8.02.2010
Why Can't You be a Sadist?
What does it take to be a good leader?
Yesterday I hung out with some very special friends. I watched him propose to her 2 years ago. I was at their wedding. I've been there for some of their bad moments, and they've definitely been there for some of mine.
They were a huge part of my life when I was dating my ex. It's hard to not think of him when I am with them.
And horror of horrors, they know to some degree that I am a spanko. Because my ex told them. And yet I am surprisingly not annoyed that they know. I'm so much more confident in my spanko/sexuality/emotional make-up then I was a year ago.
It has been more than a year ago that I decided to do something about my spanko feelings--and make a page on Spankfinder.....It was a frightening, whirl-wind time of life, when emotions alternately skyrocketted or hid in the dark.
So yesterday, as usual, my old friends and I discussed my ex and the changes that have happened. And then we began to randomly discuss what makes a good leader---aka: what had my ex done wrong in our relationship.
The dude- friend defined it with one word: CARING. (Oh, and also he is a conservative Christian who believes that the leading is the man's position and job---in his words: "God made horses with a purpose--to be ridden; God made men with a purpose--to lead". I completely disagree with the stereotype and box and rule--If a woman wants to "lead" and the man is cool with it, go for it. And, even though it hurts me to say it, spank him while you're at it....tee hee hee.)
Anyway, I thought he put it well. The ability to lead is the ability to CARE.
Now this sounds warm, fuzzy, and incredibly non-violent. Caring is for care-bears, Barney, babies, and maybe hospitals and nursing homes.
College Guy and I once had a discussion about this very idea. And it was a bit violent. Actually quite a lot.
I was in one of my dark moods. I don't remember what it was over. He said he was going to spank me.
"I don't want you to," I pouted. "I want you to do it and be not-caring. I don't want you to wish you didn't have to punish me and force yourself to do it anyway. I want someone to punish me who doesn't care. I want someone to spank me and not care that it hurts. Why can't you be a sadist?"
The look on his face was something I wish to never see again.
"I'm going to blister your bottom right now," He stated. "You're not thinking clearly, and you need a taste of what you're asking for."
It was not fun. I fidgetted, protested, and struggled over his lap until he finally had enough.
"Get up." He grabbed my arm and paraded me to the bathroom. I thought he wanted to spank me in front of the mirror, or maybe show me the damage he'd done. But when I saw his hand start towards the soap, I jerked out of his grasp and bolted to the hotel bed. Without thinking, I dove under the covers and pulled them over my head. It was a test. But it was as natural a reaction for me as breathing.
I'm sure you all are not surprised that he didn't give up. The covers were pulled down, the soap was placed in my mouth (only 10 seconds, yay!), and this calmer, more submissive girl was pulled back over his lap.
I was still fuming a bit when the spanking was over. But in hindsight, his caring resulted in a spanking. I was confused and I still can be confused about what I want, about what I think a guy should be, but in this case, College Guy cared and his care made us closer and made me trust him which makes me more likely to trust the next time.
I'm not saying that the guy should lead all the time, be master, rule the roost, that women should always submit. But there is something about it. I can't put my finger on it.
All I know is that last night's conversation with my good -but -vanilla -friends is still running around in my mind.
I once read something written about My Magician. Something written by a girl that had a spanking relationship with him years ago. She was musing about what it was that exuded from him when he wasn't doing anything related to spanking. "Authority" was the first word she used, but then she realized that "authority" wasn't enough. Finally she came up with the word "Dominance". And I agree; it is the right word to use.
My vanilla- dude- friend had gone on to compare good leadership to bad leadership. "I have this military friend whose first instint is 'Tackle it, shoot it, or drag it where you want it.' Basically, to muscle his leadership. That's all wrong. Being a leader is starting a vision, communicating the vision, and bringing the team together. But the team has to choose to follow. To want the vision to happen."
And as much as I desire someone to drag me and muscle me where they want me--over their knee, please--and to force me to submit, it isn't possible to live one's life that way. At least not too often. I would have to have a completely new spanker at least every 2 months---the poor guys hand/arm would be ruined and/or he would begin to develop arthritic hip-bones from trying to hold my kicking legs in place. Or maybe he'd develop blisters on his hands from the rubbing of wooden hairbrushes as he attempted to severly discipline me....cough..coughh..coll...b...bough...cough.. :)
Anyway, I think there may be something about freely choosing to follow, obey, or become "on the team". It's like graduating in a way. Becoming more adult.
My Magician makes it fairly easy to choose to follow. I have to fight my own instincts if I want to not submit. But that's probably because he is much older than me (did I say "much"? I meant "much much much much". Sorry for the confusion.) I have a thing about doing what older people say.
Perhaps it's the Dominance that the above author defined his personna as having. I have to decide ahead of time to disobey him. It can make a bratty girl feel quite pathetic.
"Take off your shorts, Miss Bonnie-jo." He says, but in this extremely pleasant, easy tone of voice.
My hands are moving to my shorts before I can think. No, I tell myself. Breathe. Wait. Push him a little. Don't obey. It'll be fun.
Oh, the lies I like to believe until they're spanked out of me!
So what is it that draws me to authority, to the age and maturity of My Magician? Why is it that I test College Guy in ways I would never even think of when over this older man's knee?Is it that My Magician is "better at it"? (I know, I know, I'm actually playing with real fire here, with real egos, self esteems, lives...lol. So no...there is no "better", but there definitely is "different".)
In my still-not-grown-up-and-still-sometimes-afraid mind, I see maturity, age, and the authority that comes with that as CARE. I respect the life My Magician has lived, the things he's learned and gone through in his spanko-journey, and I suppose I'm flattered that I get to be spanked by him. He's experienced. Almost a bit of a celebrity in the spanko universe. I get high on it. It makes him more mysterious.
I don't know him like I know College Guy. So with so many things, I have to just imagine. That mystery adds to the fear when he says, "I'm not done with you yet." When he says, "Wait there. I'll be back to finish your spanking."
But with College Guy, the fear is coming. It's sneaky, like spring or growing taller. And it's a different kind of fear. It's the, "I can't play games. I can't pretend. He knows what I'm up to. And because he knows, I have to be honest. I have to open up."
It's a good kind of fear. And I'm glad that he CARES.
Yesterday I hung out with some very special friends. I watched him propose to her 2 years ago. I was at their wedding. I've been there for some of their bad moments, and they've definitely been there for some of mine.
They were a huge part of my life when I was dating my ex. It's hard to not think of him when I am with them.
And horror of horrors, they know to some degree that I am a spanko. Because my ex told them. And yet I am surprisingly not annoyed that they know. I'm so much more confident in my spanko/sexuality/emotional make-up then I was a year ago.
It has been more than a year ago that I decided to do something about my spanko feelings--and make a page on Spankfinder.....It was a frightening, whirl-wind time of life, when emotions alternately skyrocketted or hid in the dark.
So yesterday, as usual, my old friends and I discussed my ex and the changes that have happened. And then we began to randomly discuss what makes a good leader---aka: what had my ex done wrong in our relationship.
The dude- friend defined it with one word: CARING. (Oh, and also he is a conservative Christian who believes that the leading is the man's position and job---in his words: "God made horses with a purpose--to be ridden; God made men with a purpose--to lead". I completely disagree with the stereotype and box and rule--If a woman wants to "lead" and the man is cool with it, go for it. And, even though it hurts me to say it, spank him while you're at it....tee hee hee.)
Anyway, I thought he put it well. The ability to lead is the ability to CARE.
Now this sounds warm, fuzzy, and incredibly non-violent. Caring is for care-bears, Barney, babies, and maybe hospitals and nursing homes.
College Guy and I once had a discussion about this very idea. And it was a bit violent. Actually quite a lot.
I was in one of my dark moods. I don't remember what it was over. He said he was going to spank me.
"I don't want you to," I pouted. "I want you to do it and be not-caring. I don't want you to wish you didn't have to punish me and force yourself to do it anyway. I want someone to punish me who doesn't care. I want someone to spank me and not care that it hurts. Why can't you be a sadist?"
The look on his face was something I wish to never see again.
"I'm going to blister your bottom right now," He stated. "You're not thinking clearly, and you need a taste of what you're asking for."
It was not fun. I fidgetted, protested, and struggled over his lap until he finally had enough.
"Get up." He grabbed my arm and paraded me to the bathroom. I thought he wanted to spank me in front of the mirror, or maybe show me the damage he'd done. But when I saw his hand start towards the soap, I jerked out of his grasp and bolted to the hotel bed. Without thinking, I dove under the covers and pulled them over my head. It was a test. But it was as natural a reaction for me as breathing.
I'm sure you all are not surprised that he didn't give up. The covers were pulled down, the soap was placed in my mouth (only 10 seconds, yay!), and this calmer, more submissive girl was pulled back over his lap.
I was still fuming a bit when the spanking was over. But in hindsight, his caring resulted in a spanking. I was confused and I still can be confused about what I want, about what I think a guy should be, but in this case, College Guy cared and his care made us closer and made me trust him which makes me more likely to trust the next time.
I'm not saying that the guy should lead all the time, be master, rule the roost, that women should always submit. But there is something about it. I can't put my finger on it.
All I know is that last night's conversation with my good -but -vanilla -friends is still running around in my mind.
I once read something written about My Magician. Something written by a girl that had a spanking relationship with him years ago. She was musing about what it was that exuded from him when he wasn't doing anything related to spanking. "Authority" was the first word she used, but then she realized that "authority" wasn't enough. Finally she came up with the word "Dominance". And I agree; it is the right word to use.
My vanilla- dude- friend had gone on to compare good leadership to bad leadership. "I have this military friend whose first instint is 'Tackle it, shoot it, or drag it where you want it.' Basically, to muscle his leadership. That's all wrong. Being a leader is starting a vision, communicating the vision, and bringing the team together. But the team has to choose to follow. To want the vision to happen."
And as much as I desire someone to drag me and muscle me where they want me--over their knee, please--and to force me to submit, it isn't possible to live one's life that way. At least not too often. I would have to have a completely new spanker at least every 2 months---the poor guys hand/arm would be ruined and/or he would begin to develop arthritic hip-bones from trying to hold my kicking legs in place. Or maybe he'd develop blisters on his hands from the rubbing of wooden hairbrushes as he attempted to severly discipline me....cough..coughh..coll...b...bough...cough.. :)
Anyway, I think there may be something about freely choosing to follow, obey, or become "on the team". It's like graduating in a way. Becoming more adult.
My Magician makes it fairly easy to choose to follow. I have to fight my own instincts if I want to not submit. But that's probably because he is much older than me (did I say "much"? I meant "much much much much". Sorry for the confusion.) I have a thing about doing what older people say.
Perhaps it's the Dominance that the above author defined his personna as having. I have to decide ahead of time to disobey him. It can make a bratty girl feel quite pathetic.
"Take off your shorts, Miss Bonnie-jo." He says, but in this extremely pleasant, easy tone of voice.
My hands are moving to my shorts before I can think. No, I tell myself. Breathe. Wait. Push him a little. Don't obey. It'll be fun.
Oh, the lies I like to believe until they're spanked out of me!
So what is it that draws me to authority, to the age and maturity of My Magician? Why is it that I test College Guy in ways I would never even think of when over this older man's knee?Is it that My Magician is "better at it"? (I know, I know, I'm actually playing with real fire here, with real egos, self esteems, lives...lol. So no...there is no "better", but there definitely is "different".)
In my still-not-grown-up-and-still-sometimes-afraid mind, I see maturity, age, and the authority that comes with that as CARE. I respect the life My Magician has lived, the things he's learned and gone through in his spanko-journey, and I suppose I'm flattered that I get to be spanked by him. He's experienced. Almost a bit of a celebrity in the spanko universe. I get high on it. It makes him more mysterious.
I don't know him like I know College Guy. So with so many things, I have to just imagine. That mystery adds to the fear when he says, "I'm not done with you yet." When he says, "Wait there. I'll be back to finish your spanking."
But with College Guy, the fear is coming. It's sneaky, like spring or growing taller. And it's a different kind of fear. It's the, "I can't play games. I can't pretend. He knows what I'm up to. And because he knows, I have to be honest. I have to open up."
It's a good kind of fear. And I'm glad that he CARES.
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