Crimson Moon (pt.1) (aka Schoolgirl Party)

The secret is out.   I went to Crimson Moon in Chicago!  It was the largest CM they have had yet, so large in fact that they had to turn people away.  Next time, many people suggested, we should just rent out the entire hotel and not have to worry about the "s word" being proclaimed at the breakfast tables.

Anyway, I was in a very uncomfortable mood days before the party.  I guess there is nothing like pressure and the suggestion of partial nudity to make me freak and become sure I am ugly.  As I blogged earlier in the week, I was afraid that no one would be interested in spanking me. Well...that wasn't the case. :)

We left on Thursday and I drove.  College Guy didn't mind letting me, and focusing on the road helped me keep my mind off the huge uncertainties in the looming future.  The last 5 minutes or so of our drive however, I was having trouble following my GPS and I kept freaking out at tiny things, like stopping at stop signs and getting into the correct lane.  We were almost there!!

We went to the Newbie Orientation, and as I sat at a table full of mostly girls, I realized that I was in the right place.  The girls were shy, quiet, but quick to laugh.  And as one of them was pulled up front for a quick demonstration involving a wooden paddle, everyone began to loosen up.

The guy running the orientation made some disparaging comments about a specific sports team, and then he asked if there were any new people who were fans of that particular sports team.  It was one of those moments where anyone in their right mind would not have raised their hand.  But what the heck, I was giddy already from being around so many spankos, and I was sure other girls at the table would lead the way or at least, follow my lead. So, up my hand went. I waited a beat, and about two guys from another table also raised their hands.  I put my hand down quickly.  College Guy smirked at me, "You don't even know who that sports team is...name some players. " I pouted back, "I know but I thought it was a joke.  I thought other people would join me. "  I blushed and hoped the guy running the orientation wouldn't remember my boldness later.  And I also hoped he would.

The first day was hard, as we knew basically no one there.  We had both talked to a couple of people on fetlife, but that isn't the same as actually knowing someone beforehand. So the first couple of hours, College Guy and I mainly tried to be friendly and watch and learn.  Not long after the orientation, people were leading others back into the party room's spanking booths, and loud sounds of slapping began to fill the room.

I felt like my shell broke a little bit at the school girl ice breaker.  A bunch of other girls and I sat on benches and generally goofed off.  We were in front of the rest of the party goers, so I found it easy to focus on being a child. I giggled and chewed gum and popped the bubbles that some naughty girl had blown.  I almost didn't need the spanking aspect to enjoy this sort of roleplay.

But girls were getting pulled up to the front of the room to get spanked by people dressed as nuns, teachers, rabbi's, etc.  And I knew it would probably be my turn soon.

The gum was what did it.  The guy who had been running the orientation pulled me up to the front and put my hands on the table. He scolded me for the gum chewing and slapped my bottom hard.  I couldn't stop giggling.  "I don't have the gum anymore. I swallowed it!" I defended. But then a couple of spanks later, I confessed, "Actually I'm still chewing it." He didn't spend long with the hand swats and was soon pummeling me with a round paddle. It hurt!!! I wiggled a lot and was for a quick instant was afraid I was going to actually try to get away and somehow roll off the table in front of everyone.  But then it was over.

One of my school girl friends gave me a whoopee cushion, and since I'd been spanked, I was now in the mood to use it.  So I placed it on the seat of the next girl in front of me who was coming back to sit down after being spanked.  And it was non other than LilyStarr!  I know I'm bragging, sort of, because I got to meet her and even prank her, but the truth is,  I actually felt true guilt later, especially since LilyStarr has been one of my spanking favorites to watch.  So minutes later, I leaned over and tried to apologize.  She gave me a look and then hopped out of her seat, told the prefect on me, and sat back down, snubbing her nose in the process.  Ohh my!!! I had no idea that was about to happen.  I was handed over to the prefect for another spanking.  Then later, I got in trouble for shooting a nurf gun, and the teacher who had placed me in the corner saw I was chewing gum again and delivered me to the Nun.  The Nun made me spit the gum in her hand.  I was mortified and intrigued.  Then she stuck the gum on my nose and spanked me, warning, "If that gum falls of your nose, you are in  trouble. " Her manner and role-playing were so perfect.  I think hers was definitely my favorite spanking of the scene.

Afterwards College Guy and I lingered and helped put the chairs in the room back together and tried to small talk with more people since we still hardly knew anyone.  Then we headed up to the 6th floor and found a suite party that someone sitting next to College Guy had suggested we join.

At first, we just sat and talked, and I watched a girl get strapped hard on the bed closest to us.  Then College Guy pulled me onto the far bed and spanked me over his knee.  I apologized to the girl getting strapped on the other bed and said "If I kick you, it's not my fault, it's his fault for spanking me."  I felt embarrassed with this first public spanking from College Guy, and I felt oddly bratty, so I complained the whole time that it hurt, kept asking him to not go to hard and basically squealed like a little girl. It didn't last for long, but it was a good intro spanking.

Later, the guy that had been strapping the other girl asked if I wanted to try a strap out.  They were all London Tanners, so of course I did want to.  He showed College Guy how to swing one, and College Guy strapped me some, and then the guy took over and started using a couple more.  After each thwack, or however you type a strap sound, I would suck in my breath and just feel the sting.  It was very addictive, but at the same time, overwhelming.

I got a glass of wine with a girl I had just met, and we stood around and gabbed about our favorite implements and spanking life in general.  It was good girl talk, even though College Guy and another guy  were listening in and giving us their two cents.  We ended the night sometime around 1:30 a.m., and College Guy and I climbed into our giant king bed.  "Happy Vacation!" College Guy and I murmured sleepily to one another before drifting off.  I woke up every two hours or so, I was that excited, my brain neurotically recalling faces and names and conversations, trying to remember everything for the days ahead.

Pre-party Jitters

So I'm having pre-spanking party jitters like crazy.  I've read other's blogs and about how nerve wracking the days before a party are, but I didn't realize I would feel like this.  I feel like maybe I don't belong at the party College Guy and I are driving to.  I get on fetlife and look at all the humongous threads associated with this party, and its daunting.

I went shopping today for panties, a white shirt to go with my school girl skirt, and some dresses.  And I found myself trying on a size large dress, because the medium one was just too sexily tight.  I don't want the people at this party to think I'm slutty.  I especially don't want to look like I think I'm entitled to a spanking or that I will do anything to get one...ohhh...this is all just so hard.

I saw a picture of one girl on fetlife, and the picture is of basically her vag and her asshole.  And she's going to this spanking party.  I can't say I wish I were that brave (and that College Guy would allow me to to post pictures of my anatomy...because I don't....) but I wish I knew what would get me accepted.  This same girl is talking to College Guy on fetlife about the party.

I basically had to talk College Guy into going to this party.  Now, he has made friends with at least 2 girls going to it, and all of the guys that I've attempted to befriend brush me off like a pesky saleslady.  They all tell me to say hi and introduce myself to them, but do they want to talk at all further?  No.

I'm worried about so many things.  I could hardly even sleep last night.  What if I don't like spanking anymore? What if I'm too nervous to be normal and to laugh and joke, etc....What if College Guy is an awful top because he's so used to spanking me and I don't judge harshly when a cane stroke goes awry? What if no one wants to spank me because I'm young and sort of pretty so they think I'm going to be a brat and stuck up? What if College Guy gets superbly jealous and doesn't let anyone spank me in their hotel room and I'm stuck getting spanked with tons of people watching at all times? What if I don't make a single female friend there because I'll be feeling so competitive and lustful for male attention that I tune the women right out?  What if, what if...what if ????

I'll be okay.  Of course I will be.  I indulged in retail therapy and now I am chilling on my couch with a movie.  I will be hitting the gym a lot of course.  It's just all this waiting.

I have the sickening feeling that it's much better to be a single girl at a spanking party.  Because even though people know that someone's boyfriend is okay with her playing with you, the guy has to feel a kind of pressure to watch himself and play extra carefully.  I don't want extra careful.  I want real.

Also, when College Guy started talking online to a couple girls going to the party (and I told him he should do this, it was more my idea than his) I was unprepared for how stressed it made me feel.  But  I know I can trust him not to start sex chatting them, etc, so I don't know why I'm so stressed and sickened.  I guess I can't be glad for his happiness very easily.  And I really should be able to do that.

I think that if someone had responded to my messages in a friendly way and had wanted to dig deeper and get to know me a little, I would be happy for College Guy's conquests. But not now.  Darn men at parties.  I am going to be such a brat they won't know what hit them. :)

At least, I hope I will...

To Win or Not to Win, That is the Question

I told College Guy when I first met him that I liked the idea of fighting a spanking.  I liked the idea of being hard to handle. I wanted to make him work to get me, for him to be strong and then to be rewarded for his efforts.  I wanted a strong guy that could win, and I wanted to be the prize.

But that doesn't mean that I never want to win.  When we have arguments or discussions, I still want to be right. That doesn't change.  When I tell him my opinion, I want him to agree with me.  When I want to watch the movie I want to watch, I want to watch it.  And when he starts spanking me really hard, and I ask if this can't please be a fun spanking and not too hard , I want him to say yes.  I want him to give me what I want. I want to be happy.

And I win often. Perhaps that means I'm spoiled. But I like it.

There's another side to this "winning" thing, and I'm not sure how to go about explaining it.  It has to do with my weird way I relate to most of the  girls I have ever known.  I think something sort of traumatic (just a little, haha)  happened to me in 7th grade, and I can easily get stuck back into that junior high mindset.  I never really left it.  Back in 7th grade, I remember that suddenly there were cool girls and uncool girls. (Look, I realize this was forever ago, and probably for most it started in much younger years. But I think it affected me , and I was somewhat of a late bloomer socially.) There were girls who talked about boys, tried to get boyfriends, and wore clothes bought at the mall.  Then there were the fat girls and the nerdy girls. I wanted to be in the cool category so badly, but instead of even attempting to do so, I made friends with the outcasts.  I told myself that the outcast group was just as good as the cool one, but what I really believed was something completely opposite: I believed that the cool group was made up of people I could never be friends with, and furthermore, I believed that they were somehow partially inhuman or messed up morally.  They were cruel people who couldn't possibly have good emotions or feelings and they were not to be trusted. So began a lovely adult life....

Now I've never quite had this problem with guys, although I suppose a lot of the hot or handsome guys I've known have been stuck in the cool, "immoral" category as well.  There was a day when I would never talk to a guy if he was handsome. It just was not something I felt qualified to do.

My mom used to tell me, "You are the prettiest girl in your entire school, it's just that you don't wear your clothes tight or the amount of makeup  a lot of the girls wear." While she was overdoing it about being the prettiest, she was correct in her style assessment.

So now I am an adult, and I wear tight clothes and makeup.  I know how to be at least somewhat "cool".  And yet, I still hate beautiful women with a passion.  I really do. Of the 3 small spanking parties I have been to, I felt like I was on the top of the totem pole, the youngest, thinnest, and most spankable at all three parties, or at least of two out of the three parties.  When I feel that way, I feel like I'm back in that crowd of outcasts. I am the cooler one in the group of uncools.  I relax, I smile, I have fun.  But stick me in a group of hot women and I hate them internally and clam up.  I hate this. But it's what I do.

If you are fatter than me, chances are I will be your friend.  And, since America is full of those who are at least slightly overweight, it's not really hard to find friends like that.

But I know something deep is wrong with me and with how I view things.  I have always felt like an artist at heart. I love movies. I love books and music and theatre. In these things, the more beautiful and "perfect" the subject, male or female, the more I love them.  I love beautiful and gorgeous actors, singers, dancers, etc.  Why oh why can't I love them also in real life?

I could go on and on about this in the disjointed way I am writing. Sorry, everyone, but I have decided that I am going to write when I feel like writing, even if its about something non spanko. So this first entry is an example of what things might get down to.  Hope you're as excited as I am...

The thing is, I'm going to a larger spanking party, with lots of young people, in the near future.  I just don't know how I'm going to handle girl bottoms there who are as desirable (or probably more so) than myself.  Oh, well, I' ve got to learn how to handle this one day.  I've got to get out of 7th grade and begin living like an adult. I've got to learn to love people and to love beautiful ones, in reality, and not just ones in my own head. I've got to realize that beauty is not something to be had. Beauty is something to recognize and pass along and to share. Maybe.

Difficulty Writing

I honestly don't know why I can't blog, but I just can't right now.  College Guy is with friends and I've been watching a show on netflix called "Kink". It's fairly good although there definitely isn't enough spanking in it.  It makes me want to share my thoughts with the world. I've started two blogs about two completely different things.  And I just can't finish them and put them out here for you all to see.

I don't know why I can't write.  Is it because I spend all day typing my boss' thoughts dictated through a headpiece?  I'm a legal secretary...is my job taking away my creativity? I don't know.  But I really don't think that is the answer.

Sometimes I think I'm unhappy in my relationship with College Guy, and that's the reason that I can't write and that I'm not creative.  That I'm afraid to open up myself and share because I don't know what's going to come out anymore?  And I'm afraid to let anything come out anymore?

But there are true things and false things in the above paragraph's implications.  I'm not unhappy with College Guy, at least not for the most part.  Most of the time, I'm extremely happy and content. I love him and I know I do.

Most times I feel so safe, and I really value feeling safe.  I value feeling safe above most things in the world.

I remember two summers ago, when I kind of got in the habit of meeting strange guys that I didn't know well, getting drunk with them and then getting into scary situations with them.  I remember after one scary encounter telling myself, "I don't care how boring my life gets, I will not, not, not ever get into situations where I am helpless ever again.  Not even if I have to sit home every night and read classical literature as my only entertainment."

Anyway, I'm rambling.  Sorry, lovely people.  The truth is, I am content and happy.

But I don't know where my fantasizing mechanism has gone....and well...I can't blog.  And I'm scared of what will happen if I try too hard.  I'm scared of what's down deep inside my head.  I'm scared of not being safe anymore.

On a more positive note, I will in a nutshell tell you what my two blogs were going to be about. Since I'm not being creative, here it is in a nutshell:

1. I had sex the other night and it was awesome.  Probably the best part was seeing how proud of himself College Guy was.  I, for one, can still not really believe that he was actually inside of me.  Yay for us! And yet part of me is dreading the fact that now that I've done it, I will have to do it again or else feel a failure.  And also, part of me is loving the challenge.

2. I think College Guy is becoming more dom-like.  I know I always say this, but he just is.  He has been forcing me to call him "Sir" basically whenever I'm over his knee.  I hate it but really do love it as well.  And we may start doing maintenance spankings, something I don't really want to do, since "maintenance" as a word sounds boring and chore-like.  But he said I may have no choice and have to accept them, and well, that is hot and awesome of course.

Signing out now...your own non-creative Bonnie-jo.
:p

Thank you Sir

I love Wednesdays because it is Hip Hop Funk day at the YMCA. I go just about every week and bounce around with the other dancers, trying to look cool and get my moves right, and failing much of the time. But I am learning and getting some of the moves right and I do love it, so that's most of what counts, right?

The dance instructor is male, fit, really good at dancing and really loud as he shouts instructions into the microphone he wears. You can tell that most of the dancers in the room (all the women at least) are in awe of him. He makes jokes and they smile. He dances a certain way, or makes goofy sounds or expressions and they laugh. The classroom is usually made up of women and guys that I, in my limited knowledge, decide must be gay.

Sometimes we learn new dances. Most times we just go over old dances we learned months ago. Some of the "dances" are more like aerobics  with jumping jacks and punches and kicks thrown in. And as we leap and jump and try to breathe, the instructor counts like a drill sergeant, but instead of a scowl, there is the widest smile on his face. You can tell he loves teaching, loves Wednesdays as much as we do.

Sometimes a class member that he seems to know personally behind me or to the side of the room will get tired or just decide to stop dancing all together. The YMCA is a place where instructors end up getting to know people, so I can tell that he knows many people in the room. So, sometimes, when you can tell he knows someone and they start slacking off, he wipes the smile off his face and glares sternly at them, while the class titters and giggles in between their huffs and puffs and jumping jacks.

There's one dance we do just about every week, in which the instructor plays a drill sergeant pretty much the whole time. Towards the middle of the song, he tells us to "March!" which is a kind level down from the intensity that he had us at. Everyone sighs, catches their breathe and begins marching in place. But we all know what is coming, because after he says "March!" and we start marching, he always asks, "What do you say?? What do you say?" Then the whole class choruses, "Thank you, S----!" They don't really say "S", they say his name, which starts with an "S---", but I'm using that initial to protect the innocent. Anyway, since his name started with an "S----" and almost sounded similar to "Sir" , my first time experiencing this in the dance class, I was certain everyone was saying "Thank you, SIR!!!!" I blushed and tried not to say it and then (so thankful now that no one heard me, would chorus "Thank you, Sir" with the best of them.

I finally learned his name and that no one was saying "Thank you, Sir." Oh, what a let down.

Anyway, today in class, we did the usual dance where he said, "March!" And we said, "Thank you S---" and then he would say, "I didn't hear that. It wasn't loud enough. We are going to start from the top." Usually everyone groans and whimpers and moans and keeps going and then we dance and then he says "March!" We say, "Thank you, S----!" And once again he will say, "What do you say??" And so the cycle repeats, with him basically torturing us drill sergeant style. I used to think it was fun.

Then today I thought of something more fun. I wouldn't say it. I wouldn't thank him. What if he saw me?? I was all excited about the possibility of him seeing me, because well, who knows what would happen then? Well, sadly, in a room full of at least 40 people, he didn't notice my silence. Sad day...

But even though he didn't notice my rebellion, I felt awful for it only minutes afterwards. I imagined what it would have been like if the class had followed my lead, if we all had closed our mouths, and if his "What do you say?" had been met by an insolent silence. What if that was a wrap? What if that was the end of his fun what-do-you-say dance? It's not like he could force us to say it. The fact that we said it back to him made the game and the dance fun.

And then I realized part of the reason why I've always had trouble rebelling. I was not a rebellious child/teenager as a rule, but there have been one or two or three occasions in my life when I went all out and rebelled good and hard. Each time, I felt horrible for doing so, without anyone punishing me or making me feel horrible. And I realized today at least part of why rebellion made me feel bad. Because it worked. It worked for me. I was not punished for it. And if everyone had done it, then the dance would have been ruined. Because rebellion is powerful. Sometime it even does take power away from those you are rebelling against. I actually had power, and rebelling would bring that power to my attention.

And power scares the crap out of me. I want someone to follow or at least, to be able to count on, to be able to listen to when I don't know what to do or think. But I don't like this about myself, and I'd love to change it. What if I could trust myself to know what's best, at least most of the time? What if I could trust myself to rebel at the right times, against the right things, and say, I know that this is right and I will stand up for it no matter who is disappointed in me?

His Hands

I've had a sort of hands fetish for a long time. This is something that can be very entertaining when sitting through long dull high school or college lectures. Even if the teacher or prof has old, stubby, grizzled hands, that's alright because there are plenty of other hands to look at and imagine that they are spanking hands.

College Guy and I have a picture on Facebook of me cuddled up against him, his hand around my shoulder. That hand is just about the first thing I look at when I see the picture. How his hand is capturing my shoulder perfectly, holding me against him. How it's relaxed but confident in its claiming of me.

Holding his hand while walking through the downtown streets of our city, watching him sleep in on a lazy Sunday morning one of his hands grasping the corner of our bed, his hand around both of my wrists, holding me captive with my legs above my head, pinned up like a pretzel,  while he spanks me hard and fast, one hand, grasping, strong, unyielding while the other stings and punishes. His hand on my head bringing it close to him, down, guiding my head towards him, then other times on my face, fingers cruel, steely, grasping, forcing me to look him in the eyes and tell him "Yes, Sir."  His hands supporting my shoulders, bringing me towards him, pressing me against him as he says, "You. Come here",  then as I lie on my stomach whimpering his hand trailing down to my butt, rubbing soothing, "You're okay, Bonnie-jo."

Stay Very Still

I recently saw the optometrist and received a new contacts and glasses prescription. Seeing the dentist would have been a lot less stressful for me. I knew that they were probably going to blow that puff of air in my eyes and put drops in them to dilate them. Even though I wear contacts everyday, I still hate people putting things in my eyes or trying to do things to them while I stay still and try not to blink. It feels so invasive, uncomfortable, and scary.

Before I saw the actual optometrist, a female assistant measured my eyes. She told me to stay very still, and as I sat there, squirming and edgy, I asked "Is this the part where you blow air in my eyes?" I couldn't stay still thinking about it. "No, that's the next thing, " she replied. So I did stay still.

Then it was time for the air blowing. "Keep your head right in that position." "Umm..try not to move." "No...don't move your head away." "Yes, keep your head right there." "Please try not to move because I can't get a good view." "Uhmmm..." "Allright, just relax..." "No, don't move yet, try to stay still..." This went on for awhile as I stayed in the desired position for all of 2 seconds before I would see a bright light approaching my eyes which quickly resulted in a jerk of my head. I was almost giggling by how I kept jerking my head away from where she wanted it. It's like I had no way of controlling myself. I remember thinking,"I can't possibly do this because I'm not used to making myself do anything. I need someone to hold me here. Where are their restraints..." Hahah...

Finally she gave up on me. "We'll try again some other time..." she told me. I asked her later, when I was picking out frames if she was going to try again. "No, 'some other time' means like next year." She replied airily.

Then I saw the doctor himself. I like doctors, by the way. I like them a lot. I think one of the perfect spanking fantasies or role plays would be the doctor/patient one. Anyway, as I sat on the raised leather seat/table and he asked me questions about my eyes, I felt like fessing up right away and saying "I couldn't do the air blowing thing.  I'm sorry..." But I stayed quiet.

He asked if I had brought sunglasses with me, so that I could protect my eyes after he dilates them. I said yes, but began squirming inside. Great, great..eye drops. Sure I put my contacts in every day. But I so hate other people touching my eyes---

Without further ado, he leans over me, and I before I can think, he has lifted up my eyelid, BAM! one drop is in my eye. It is stinging like crazy, but before I can get more nervous and actually worry about holding still, he's lifted up my other eyelid. His finger slips a little, but he quickly moves it back and SLAM! the other eye is stinging and watering as well.

"The drops may sting a little," He warns me brusquely. "Here is a tissue for your face." My eyes are watering and dripping down my cheeks. I take the tissue and wonder how that all just happened.

I can't stay still. But he somehow managed within seconds to do exactly what he needed to.

Doctors get things done. I think they would be awesome spankers.