Nowhere to go

*Cross-posted over at The Punishment Book*

I am only recently starting to get back my spanking mojo after an extended hiatus for pregnancy- and postpartum-related issues. Physically I was unable to bend over or absorb heavy blows when my belly got big enough, and then healing from my c-section meant that I was restricted for similar reasons. And emotionally/hormonally, I just wasn't there. Spanking didn't fire me up, intrigue me, or even really occur to me. Every once in a while I would think about it, but more in a passing sense. For a while I was ok with this break: I was exhausted, we had company, and the duties of motherhood and work were far more pressing.

After several months, though, I began to long for that part of myself. I missed the fire, the sparkle, the desire. I wanted to feel like me again. Still, nothing. I worried that motherhood had completely changed me, had replaced those fiery, sassy, desiring parts with nurturing, responsible, mechanical parts.

Then I had to take a two-day trip for work and I arranged to stay with some scene friends who live near the conference site. I got to enjoy a beautiful hour-long spanking that was heavy but didn't push my limits in any uncomfortable ways. It was perfect. It reassured me that I could still take a spanking--it reassured me that I still wanted to be spanked. It gave me a glimpse that I might still be me.

A big part of being me, however, is the punishment part. I am someone who needs to have limits, who wants to be disciplined, who must have a reason to be spanked. It has always frustrated me when I ask, "Why am I getting spanked?" and someone responds, "Because you need it," or just "Because." I've always known that I prefer to have an actual event or behavior that precipitates a spanking (though I can play for fun, it takes a conscious effort for me to put myself in the right frame of mind), but I thought it was because I wanted it to be logical, reasonable, contextual.

I don't misbehave (much) these days, though. I don't have the energy for it and frankly, M doesn't have the energy to punish me for it even when I stick a toenail across the line. We're both tired and I don't want to do something egregious in order to manipulate him into spanking me.

But I still want to be spanked. Which means that I can have spankings that are intense, but have no "reason" behind them. Having experienced a couple of them in the last two months, and finding them strangely lacking, I've given this a bit of thought. I first thought that perhaps my tolerance had dropped after the months-long moratorium on any play whatsoever. And it probably has.

But I've decided that the biggest factor is my brain. When I'm getting spanked, my brain needs a place to go. I can't shut it off: I need to engage it in some way. And punishment gives my brain something to experience while my body experiences the pain. A mental pillow to clutch. A way to make sense of the spanking. A way to transform the suffering into something useful (relaxation, release of emotions or stress, relinquishment of control).

When I'm being spanked hard for no reason, I can sometimes transcend the experience in a similar way, though the conditions are a little different. For those spankings I have to be eased into the intensity: start light, push the limits ever so slightly, back off, push again, back off, and I can eventually get to a place where I'm flying. The effect is then similar to the effects of a punishment, but it takes longer to get there. When it's punishment, when I don't have a choice (or when the agreement is that I've given up my choice), the intensity can start higher sooner because my brain has something to keep it occupied. But when intensity goes up without a reason and my brain is clutching around madly for a handhold (brainhold?), I can't cope as well and the effects aren't the same.

Which means, I guess, that I need spanking to engage all of me--I can't separate from my body and leave my brain with nowhere to go.

Random Thoughts

I've been a little intimidated by the length of time that's gone by since I last posted, but then I read sparkle's post from yesterday and realized that I could do something similar. So here we go:

-We have a new person in our house! Our son was born three weeks ago, after a fairly good pregnancy and a very complicated delivery. He spent the first few days of his life in the neonatal intensive care unit, but is doing just fine now. M and I are exhausted, but very much in love with him. My mom has been staying with us to help and she's been incredible, but it's still overwhelming.

-Punishment Book is 5 years old. What an amazing forum it has become, thanks in large part to Mija's persistence and leadership, her curiosity and boundless energy. The women she has united as authors are smart, articulate, funny, and creative; I am consistently awed and humbled by their thoughtfulness and intelligence.

-It has been a Long Time since I've been spanked. The last trimester of pregnancy is not terribly conducive to bending over or absorbing blows/spanks/swats of much vigor, and now I'm recovering from a c-section and it seems like it will be a Longer Time until I'm spankable. Someone else got spanked in our house a few days ago and I got to listen (and then see the results), which was lovely. But I miss that part of myself.

-I got a Valentine in the mail from a 6-year-old, with a chocolate heart that said "Hottie." Which kind of made my day, since I'm feeling anything but these days.

Since I'm home on maternity leave now, I may have more time for posting, so you may see more of me. On the other hand, I may have less time--my schedule is no longer my own. But I'm still here, plugging along, thinking about things, and gathering ideas.

Blast from the past

I just posted over at Punishment Book for the first time in a looooong time. Go check it out: Blast from the past.

I Like Canes? (aka, Spanking and the Pregnant Girl)

Who knew?

Well, I sort of knew. I knew that pregnancy could make one feel tired, nauseated, weepy, grumpy, horny, and hungry (sometimes all at once). I knew that pregnancy could radically change one's body type and shape (duh). I even knew that pregnancy hormones could make one's nose run, feet cramp, ankles swell, and hair grow. What I didn't know is that pregnancy could make me like canes.

Over the last five months I've been noting all the different changes in my body, from my suddenly bountiful breasts to my thickening waist and finally protruding belly. I've had little to no interest in spanking, but I attributed that to hormones and a pretty miserable first trimester, so M and I haven't played much for a long time.

When we first started thinking about having a baby, I met with my Ob/Gyn and asked her if it was safe to play while pregnant. She said it was fine as long as I was careful about any direct blows to my abdomen (which isn't really my kink anyway), so I definitely would have felt ok playing, but I didn't have the interest.

Cut to the Shadow Lane party this past weekend. I tend to play very hard, but since I haven't been spanked much lately I didn't know what my tolerance would be like. M and I talked about it and decided it would be easier for me to refrain from playing or only play lightly. Truthfully, I would have been fine to go without playing for the whole party (I've certainly done that before!), but then Bridget asked if she could spank me and I agreed.

We had to figure out a comfortable position for me, since I'm just getting to the point where I can't lie on my belly for too long, so we propped some pillows over the end of the sofa arm in Pablo and Mija's room. Bridget and I have played before, several times, and she knows which heavy strap is my favorite. After a very brief warm-up, she went right for the strap. Which hurt. A lot. At first I chalked it up to my lower pain threshold (getting waxed before the party almost had me in tears), but I still couldn't settle into the pain or relax into the strokes.

Finally, I had to give in. "I think I'm only good for a few more," I said.

Bridget nodded. "Can I give you a couple with the cane?" she asked.

I had to think about this for a moment. Normally I really don't like canes. But Bridget likes using them and I figured it couldn't hurt worse than the strap. Plus, for as much as my bottom was telling me the scene should be over, my head wasn't ready to have it end so quickly. So I agreed.

"Only a couple," I said.

She chose the thickest cane on the table (thoughtfully laid out by Pablo) and gave me one stroke. Not bad.

Another stroke. Still not bad.

Another stroke. Still not bad?

I was starting to realize that rather than tolerating the cane strokes, I was welcoming them. After those first three (interspersed with gentle cane tapping), Bridget dutifully stopped and checked in with me. "You can keep going," I said.

And she did. She tried several different canes on me, varying the intensity and speed--I ate it all up. I was finally getting to that pleasant place in my head, the floaty, warm place where I look forward to the next stroke. Yum...

After a bit, however, I think she got nervous about my sudden affinity for the cane and offered to finish the scene up with a few licks from the strap. I agreed, thinking that I was safe and floaty enough to welcome the familiar heavy thud. But it was horrible: sharp, biting, jarring. I found myself clenching my stomach muscles as I tensed for the next blow. She only gave me a handful of strokes with the strap, but I had to stop her quickly and ask for a few more cane strokes to finish.

I am more puzzled by this turn of events than any other single event, craving, feeling, or experience in my pregnancy thus far. Wine smells like paint thinner, pork makes me want to throw up, TV commercials make me cry, and canes make me purr.

Weird.

Broken

I wish I were writing a post about all my glorious exploits from Shadow Lane and Las Vegas. I wish I had some exploits to write about. But I spent the entire weekend in my hotel room and I didn't play once, not even with M. Not once. And it sucked. I ventured out for the vendors' fair on Friday, the dinner on Saturday, and a lunch on Sunday: about an hour per day. Other than that I was stuck in our room, sick. I am really, really tired of being sick. It's ruining important events and getting in the way of my life, damn it.

I know I'm whining. I know lots of people who wanted to go to Vegas and couldn't go at all. I know lots of people who struggle with chronic illnesses far worse than mine. I am grateful for the loving support of my friends and my wonderful husband. Truly. But it still sucks to feel broken all the time.

The Twilight of my Days

Sorry I've been so quiet lately. I've been struggling with some health things that are screwing up daily life, work, and other plans, so there hasn't been much time for posting. And though you'd *think* that would mean a halt to all things spanking in the house, it's been quite the opposite: M has taken to spanking me daily. I think it's his way of trying to make me feel more secure and loved in the midst of confusion and chaos. Which is a pretty good approach, actually.

But the real topic of this post is Twilight. When I first posted about the Twilight series, I had no idea what I was starting. Do you know that if you Google "Twilight spanking fanfic" that this blog comes up #4? "Edward spanking Bella" earns me #3. And a full third of the people who found me via search terms on the web came through some combination of "Edward," "Bella," "spanking," "Twilight," and "fanfiction."

Which means there is a serious dearth of Twilight fanfiction out there, people! I haven't written any: I've only written about my desire to read some. I shouldn't be famous for this! (No comments about what I *should* be famous for, thank you very much.) Get going!

A great one has fallen

I was heartbroken to learn that my dear friend Vince, one of the founders of Chicago Crimson Moon, died last night after suffering a massive heart attack this weekend.

I join many across the country in mourning the loss of this generous, gregarious, wonderful man. He was a gentleman, a joker, and a dyed-in-the-wool spanko. He welcomed many into the spanking world with graciousness and good cheer and he will be remembered with fondness by many.

Love you, Vince.

Sometimes

Sometimes I want to be spanked.

And sometimes I don't.

Sometimes I want to be held accountable by a stern, loving, unyielding external force.

And sometimes I just want to make my own decisions.

Sometimes I want to be a little girl, petted and cuddled and swatted for being naughty.

And sometimes I need to be a grown up.

Lately I've been feeling more like the latter of all these pairs. It's not that I've lost interest in spanking, more that my interest is captured elsewhere. We also had a lot to do for the wedding and parties, so I've been highly organized and responsible for the last while and it's getting to feel like a habit. When M has threatened to spank me or has given me rules lately, I shrug and do what he wants--not so much from submission as from an innate knowing that he's right. I don't feel the need to be naughty or willful or even to ask outright for a spanking. Just don't need it now.

I'm not worried about having lost my spanking mojo: there are always ebbs and flows in spanking desire. Being in an ebb means that other things get done. Being in a flow means lots of spanking. [grin]

Besides, how long do you really think I can be good, even if it's genuine?

SL08: Calibration

A mini-story from the party this weekend:

On Saturday afternoon, we were lounging in Pablo and Mija's room with Chris, sparkle, and Bridget. I was lying face down on a bed and M was sort-of spanking me. By "sort-of spanking me," I mean, "we were all talking and he was hitting me with a cane (lightly) and a strap, though it didn't interrupt the conversation at all."

At some point in the afternoon I made a comment about how I'd never actually been slippered, but was curious. Pablo sighed, stood up, crossed the room to the bedside dresser, and pulled out a slipper, noting that I "really shouldn't make comments like that." (Grin.) I invited him to try it on me.

He hesitated.

"I don't know that I'm really calibrated for you," he said.

It took me a moment to realize what he meant.

I have noted, here and elsewhere, that I have an extremely high pain tolerance, particularly if I'm in the right mood. And I am not particularly vocal during a spanking. I'm not sure if this is natural, prideful, or a function of living in apartments and other close quarters. Whatever the reason, I don't tend to squeal or yelp or cry out much, even when the sensation is intense.

My dear friends sparkle, Mija, and Bridget, on the other hand, are squealers, yelpers, and criers out. Emphatically so.

I bent over and put my elbows on the bed. Paul took aim and whacked my jeans-covered bottom with the slipper. I took a sharp breath. He whacked me again, on the other cheek. I exhaled sharply. Someone in the room said, "Did you even feel those?" M said, "Oh, she felt that alright."

See, M is calibrated to my responses.* He could read my body language and breath from all the way across the room. As he said later, "That slippering made you hurt more than anything I've seen in a long time. It really made you have to hold on, didn't it?"

Um, yeah. A lot.

All in all, Pablo probably gave me 10-15 swats (M's estimate--I can't remember the count). And I really did have to hold on. Even though it was not a punishment, even though my bottom was protected through thick denim. It hurt and burned sharply, but I didn't say much beyond, "ooh" and "ow." I winced a bit but didn't claw at the air or stand up.

And according to most of the observers in the room, I must be some kind of freak.** ;-)

*I promise to try to persuade him to write a post about my reactions someday.

**Still, I'm not keen on being slippered again anytime soon, particularly for punishment.

A Cure for the Common What?

If you're itching to know the resolution to last Friday's injunction--join the crowd.

;-)

The perfect, storybook ending to this story would be this:

M came home on Sunday night to find me sprawled on the bed in my sexiest lingerie. He took one look at me, growled, and then fucked me till we were both sore and exhausted. (Oh, and in this dream, he isn't tired, sore, or smelly from hiking for two days straight.)

But the real story goes like this:

On Thursday I started with a headache in the back of my head.

On Friday it came back, just a little. And then M forbade me from orgasming for at least two days.

On Saturday night it came back with a vengeance (and a special little twist).

On Sunday, I started my period and there was a crazy mudslide on the the ONE road back from the mountain M was hiking. My headache returned in the evening and M didn't get back until 2 a.m.

On Monday, I went to work and left early because my headache was creeping back in. Monday night we had dinner with family.

This morning (Tuesday), I opened my eyes with my alarm, realized that the headache was still f*&#ing with me, and cursed.

Then I rolled over and started kissing M's neck. Fortunately, he's fairly persuade-able, even when tired, so he was amenable to suggestions.

We had lovely, lovely sex, even if it wasn't the thunder-crashing, apocalyptic sex of the fantasy.

I got up and showered. M went back to sleep.

My headache was 100% gone by the end of my shower. And hasn't returned all day.

I don't know whether to tout this as a cure for migraines or conceal it from M. He's either going to want to fuck every time I have a headache or he's never going to do the insanely hot orgasm-injunction again. I'm kind of stuck.

Although thoroughly enjoying myself. Grin.

I Admit It

I so want an ass like these women.

Sigh.

So much.

What's the Difference...

...between a "mean" spanking and a "stern" spanking? Because the sharp, sting-y, VERY ouchy spanking I got from M last night was apparently not "mean," it was "stern." Felt pretty mean to me. I got grabbed, tossed over his lap on the bed, and spanked hard. And then when I thought it was over, he pulled down my pajamas and spanked me harder. :-( Mean, right?

Sadly, no Thursday updates today. The group has conflicting schedules, so anyone salivating in anticipation of a detailed orgiastic report (cough, Chris, cough, Paul, cough) will have to wait another week. :-)

De-stressing Spanking #1

It may surprise some of you to know this, but I am a fairly intense person. I tend to throw myself into whatever I do with lots of energy, high self-expectations, and a good dash of humor. So it may not surprise some of you to know that I've already had a mini wedding meltdown.

Before I go any farther, I want to state for the record that my entire goal for the wedding and the planning process is that I enjoy myself and everyone around me enjoys themselves too. I've been through and to enough weddings with Bridezillas that I know a lot of things to avoid. I know that things will go wrong. I know that it won't turn out exactly how it is in my head. I also know that no one besides me (and maybe my mom and my sister) will remember the food, the flowers, or my dress. All the details that brides spend so much time planning? They are part of the experience and the event--and that's what guests remember. They remember a happy couple, they remember feeling comfortable and welcomed, and they remember having been a part of the day. So. My plan is to NOT go nuts.

On Monday night, after M proposed (and we called about 40 people), I was tired. Excited, floaty, and tired. So I climbed into bed and couldn't sleep. Not a bit. I wanted to sleep, but it was like I'd had 20 cups of coffee. But that was ok, because Tuesday at work I got to tell a whole other batch of people, so I had more adrenaline to keep me going. Tuesday night: still couldn't sleep. By Wednesday I was starting to feel overwhelmed. I'm planning the wedding in a state 2000 miles away and I've been trying not to overwhelm M with too much weddingness. (He's interested, but only to a point.) I came home around 9 from a dinner, looked at M and a friend of ours sitting in the living room, and said, "If I don't go to bed right now, I'm going to fall apart." So, like a good girl, I went to bed. Stared at the ceiling. Ran through reception site options in my head. Firmly told myself to stop thinking about wedding things. Meditated. Did progressive relaxation. Two and a half hours later, I got up, opened our bedroom door, walked into M's office, and burst into tears. Absolutely lost it. I was so tired, so overwrought, and all I wanted to do was sleep. M was wonderful. Soothing, cooing, snuggling, rubbing--all of his best tricks. (And still we had to resort to sleeping medicine.) And I finally fell asleep, thank God.

However, by last night he was not quite as love-y. We had dinner and then I was on the couch, watching Season Two of my current favorite show in the whole world (don't laugh, it's really good), when he walked up and held out his hand for the remote. I didn't whine, I didn't plead, I didn't look up with Bambi eyes. I just said, "No!" and tried to wrestle it away from him. Which, in retrospect, was perhaps the wrong idea. When he went to the bedroom to get the hairbrush, I darted in the bathroom and closed the door. He waited patiently, but I wasn't coming out. I mean, really! What were my options? Not good. Finally, I heard him call from the bedroom, "Young lady, this clock says 8:15. For every minute you're in there past 8:15, you're getting a huge paddle swat." Crap! Options getting worse by the minute! Literally. I poked my nose out and saw him standing in our bedroom, looking very stern. The moment I put my toe inside the room, he tossed me over his knee on the bed and started spanking, hard. Then he pulled me back upright and dragged me over to the corner: hands behind my back, no touching the wall. Then it was back over his knee for spanking with his hand, the leather paddle (I think), and the horrible ebony hairbrush. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! I was fussing and kicking, but my energy gave out pretty soon. He finished me off with 10 very hard paddle swats, then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "If you put one foot out of bed, you'll be back in the corner, then you'll be blistered worse than this with the brush, and then you'll head into the corner again. Got it?"

And then I got put to bed, with a slight interruption for some delightful sex. :-) I slept for 12 hours straight. :-)

Steaming Mad

Like most good spankos, my eyes and ears are finely attuned to catch the merest mention of spanking in the mainstream media. So when MSN ran this headline on their home page yesterday, I couldn't help but notice: Spanking Raises Chances of Risky, Deviant Sexual Behavior.

A CAVEAT: I have no desire to open up the debate on whether or not adults should spank children. That topic can get out of hand far too easily and isn't what I'm mad about anyway. I'm angry about this section of the article:

They found that spanking and other corporal punishment is associated with an increased probability of verbally and physically coercing a dating partner to have sex; risky sex such as premarital sex without using a condom; and masochistic sex such as spanking during sex.

There is a "dose response" at work here. "The more parents spank, the higher the probability of harmful side effects," Straus noted.

Of course, there's a similar dose response for smokers. But if someone reaches the age of 65 without developing lung cancer, it doesn't mean that smoking isn't harmful. It means the person was one of the lucky ones.

It's the same with spanking, Straus said. "If a person says, 'I was spanked, and I don't have any interest in bondage and discipline sex, that's correct, but it's not because spanking is OK, it's because they're one of the lucky ones."

Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? We've all read studies and heard discussions about spanking making kids more violent or at least normalizing violence; that's not new. But these studies (there are four of them) aim to show that spanking your kids will make them run out and find unmarried, nonconsensual partners they can spank and then fuck without condoms. And that all of these things are equally bad. I see so many flaws in this rationale I think the researcher should be embarrassed to publish his work. And I would personally like to kick him in the shins and call him some bad names--to his face.

Let's start with the idea that 90% of parents spank their kids at some point (these are his statistics). If that's the case, there are either a lot more kinky folks out there than we know about, or a lot more lucky folks than Straus knows about. Then let's talk about the implausibility of trying to link teenage/adult unprotected sex with childhood spankings--where, exactly does he find any remotely logical connection between the two? Successive occurrence of unrelated actions does not imply causality.

But I think what bothers me most is the ignorance and fear-mongering latent in his conclusion. Straus' concludes that parents are condemning their children to dangerous, kinky, immoral, and deviant sex lives because he assumes that spanking/BDSM/kinky sex is inherently wrong and to be avoided at all costs. Which is either laughably, pitiably stupid, or maddeningly, damnably ignorant. I'm leaning toward the latter.

Getting Serious About Play

I am feeling better today. Better enough to be horrified at the state of our apartment and insist that M help me move things so I could vacuum. Better enough to shower and blow dry my hair. Better enough to be driven to our favorite weekend breakfast spot for real food. But not so good that each of those activities didn't require a 20-minute (or more) rest. This is my after-brunch rest time. It's possible that I'm supposed to be napping, but M is in the other room on the computer and I think I'm ok as long as I'm having quiet time.

Just after the Shadow Lane party, I posted at Punishment Book about my desire to do more spanking play as opposed to real-life discipline, which is both at the heart of my kink and the bulk of what M and I do together. Paul linked to that post and spun off his own thoughts, which made me think about it again. So this is a response to a response. Of sorts. (Remember, you're getting the ramblings of a recently very sick woman.)

Paul wrote:

I think it's probably especially important for people whose primary expression of the kink is real-life discipline that they try to balance that with play that's more explicitly fun, both with their own partners and with others - whatever the conventional kink analogue of a fuck buddy would be.

An excellent point. For those of us who live in real-life, real-time discipline relationships, it can lose some of the spark or some of the energy. If the bottom is always misbehaving and the top is always correcting said misbehavior, it can become as rote and dry as the cliche about vanilla sex where she lies on her back and thinks about England. (Sorry, Paul!) We fall into our expected roles, play out the scripted encounter, and return to the rest of our lives. Which doesn't mean we get no enjoyment or fulfillment out of the interaction, quite the contrary. The very normalcy can be a wonderful thing; I know many people, tops and bottoms, who would love to be in a relationship where kink or discipline were the norm. But it does mean that we may be losing sight of the possibilities for different kinds of interactions and dimensions.

Like a fuck buddy. My gay friends are probably more comfortable with this idea than my straight friends, but we in the kink world certainly have an analogy. Many of the kinky folks I know are purposely not monogamous kink-wise. They tend to share their kink energy more readily than most share their sexual energy, and I think this is a good thing. I'm certainly not proposing that everyone must have multiple spanking partners, but as Paul points out, it can definitely be a good thing for those of us who fall on the heavy-to-serious end of the spanking spectrum. One way to lighten things up is to have alternative partners who interact in a different way than our primary/disciplinary partners. People who only spank you for fun or only spank you to orgasm. Intentionally seeking these relationships is a good, healthy way for us to balance WIIWD (What It Is We Do) with some fun.

And it's generally good to shake up routines and bring spice into a relationship. (Though our "routine" is probably many people's "extra spicy.") It doesn't hurt to remind ourselves to have fun with this glorious kink we've been given. Fun can mean pushing the limits of tolerance--but it can also mean taking some of the pressure off ourselves and playing on a different, lighter level.

Some of my friends play only on light levels. They dislike role play or anything that smacks (forgive the pun) of real-life or discipline. Some of them are sensualists, some are into heavier play, some only like it as foreplay before a sexual encounter. But for those of us who need a "real" dimension, lighter play can pose a problem. Again, Paul:

Figuring out what it means for play to be real, without being real-life . . . is a bit of a conundrum. . . . I'm not interested in play unless it's meaningful.

I don't play much at parties either, for this same reason. I am not a lap surfer, and I had some pretty serious meltdowns after my first few parties where I played with everyone who asked. It took a while to realize that I have a powerful connection with anyone who spanks me; I believe this is because all play is real on some level for me. Even if I'm not being spanked for a reason, the connection and the relationship are real, and those are not things I mess around with. So for me, meaningful play comes from the relationship with the top: a high degree of trust, of course, but also a compatibility of style. I have found a few people I enjoy playing with very much, usually people who are comfortable with themselves and who are flexible enough to play at varying levels of intensity. I am capable of playing very heavily, and I like a partner who can go there too.

Of all the possible ways to engage, discipline is the most intimate, most intense level for me, and I reserve access to that area for only a few people. It is satisfying to a degree I cannot describe; it quite literally puts my world straight and reorients me when I am muddled. But there are levels of engagement below discipline, and I haven't explored those as much.

Probably the level just below discipline is flying. Flying comes from a long build-up spanking where I can relax into the increasing intensity and eventually not experience the heaviest blows as pain at all. I know I'm flying when I lean into the next stroke, eager for the sensation. Others around me know I'm flying when I get a blissful look on my face or start giggling at ridiculously hard strokes. Leather implements will get me to fly the best--I don't think I fly often with wooden implements because the sensation is wrong.

I can also enjoy mock punishment when there are a few people around: me teasing and getting tossed over someone's lap for a few swats. The interaction becomes as much about the crowd and me as it does the top and me, though for it to be fun I still have to trust the top.

"Just because" spankings are sometimes difficult for me to process. I am genuinely hard-wired for punishment, so I expect a reason for a spanking. I've expanded my definition enough that "flying" now counts as a reason, but I have to consciously make myself relax into spankings that are meant to be long and fun. Having experienced some very nice ones, I am better able to shut up the voice in my head that says, "Stop! This isn't fair! I've been good! Why am I getting spanked?" but it still takes me longer to get into that headspace than a punishment headspace.

Then, of course, there are sexual spankings. By sexual spankings, I mean spankings that are only meant to arouse one or all parties and perhaps bring someone to orgasm. No other motives or trappings, no scolding, no stories, no discipline flavor. For as connected as spanking and sex are for me, I've not experimented much with these. My punishment spankings usually turn me (and M) on enough that things proceed naturally from there. And discipline is still at the heart of my kink, so even if I'm not in trouble I'm usually imagining it. Or our foreplay has some taste of it.

I guess this means that I still have some exploring to do in terms of play spanking. Which I'm more than willing to tackle. :-)

Giving Thanks

People, events, and things for which I am thankful:

My darling M
Health
Family
Chris, sparkle, and the Princess
All the PB authors
Curves
Being kinky! (Yes, I am determined to be thankful for it, even when I battle it)
Peppermint Joe-Joe's (only available at Trader Joe's, but seriously. If you can get them, buy three boxes.)
A fulfilling (if exhausting) job
You! I am thankful for you, dear readers

Any particular thanksgiving you want to post, leave it here.

M/M spanking

Natty just posted about something that Kayley posted a few weeks ago. (And yes, I feel like a high school sophomore just saying that.)

It made me think again about how much I love M/M stories. Not just like them. Really love them. When I first got into the scene, I came into the world through stories. First, Laura's Story Corner. I read voraciously, anything and everything I could get my hands on. Some of the stories turned me on; others shocked me; still others disgusted me; some even scared me out of my wits.

Now, much later in my evolution as a kinky woman, I am less shocked. I have more refined tastes and know what I like and don't like. But I am still surprised and still evolving. Every once in a while I read something or see something and think, "Hmmmm...now that looks interesting." Or I don't even think that, but some explosion goes off in my brain and I become instantly aroused. (Which is in and of itself a clue.)

I discovered M/M stories several years ago when I came across Ranger's stories. (I'm not sure that's the most recent link, but that's the best one I have.) Ranger led me to Rolf (same link as above), and then I found Nelson and LJ. And I fell head over heels in love.

Now, I am extremely picky when it comes to fiction. I no longer read voraciously or accept anything as good. I have enough experience in the scene and its literature that I know I can find better--or dream up better. These authors write extremely well. The characters are lively, the dialogue engaging, the punctuation impeccable.

Natty wrote: Like Kayley, I suspect what fuels my M/m fantasies are the fact that most spankings in non-kinky fiction are boys being spanked by male teachers and parents. And historically speaking, boys were far more likely to be whipped than girls.

The genre attracts me for different reasons, though. (Granted, I'm talking M/M, not M/m. So perhaps I'm talking about an entirely different genre than they are.) But I think one of the reasons I love M/M so much is that the feminism debate can't enter the picture at all. There's no question of the woman being weaker or more deserving of discipline because of her gender. In fact, these authors tackle the question of discipline head-on and resolve it simply with the "different people have different needs" argument. Which works much more cleanly in a same-gender relationship than in a hetero one. That simplicity holds a strong attraction for me. I'm free to identify with either character and free to enjoy the relationship without worrying about her motivation or his prejudices. I can enjoy the sexual spark between two people, enjoy the bratting of one, the calm sternness of the other, and the harmony that occurs in a well-functioning (if fictional) discipline relationship. And it's a good escape. Without sexist rhetoric or my internalized concern that I'm participating in a non-feminist discourse. (The liberal arts education kicks in far too easily!)

So what about you? Are you drawn to this genre? Or another genre in which you don't/can't particpate? Any reasons?

I Should Know Better

You'd think I'd be more comfortable with myself, my needs, and my identity by this point in my evolution as a kinky person. I mean, I've spent thousands of hours reading about this, writing about it, thinking about it, and talking to intelligent (and not-so-intelligent) people about it. I have counselled newcomers to the scene. I have taken great pride in naming and claiming my need for discipline.

So why on earth do I still trip over myself? Why do I sabotage myself by trying to be something I'm not? Or rather, why do I try not to be who I am?

Sigh.

The last week or so I've been hormonal. And struggling with stuff. And trying desperately to do it all on my own. M stepped up and offered to help, even setting a deadline and a rule. And what did I do? I got anxious, self-conscious, insecure, and self-destructive. When M tried to step in and help again, I pushed back and resisted his help because I was afraid of being too needy.

Actual conversation in the middle of my spanking today:

M: What is going on with you?
Iris: I'm just trying to take care of this on my own.
M: And how's that working for you?

At this point, we both started laughing, since I am clearly not handling it well.

M pointed out that since 1.), I can't do it on my own and 2.), he wants to help me, the easiest way to accomplish this is to not resist when he's trying to do something. And then he hairbrushed me silly.

The man may have a point.