A Mystery

Some of you know that I am something of a bumpersticker connoisseur. So I was delighted and astonished today to see TWO cars sporting a bumpersticker I'd never seen. It is a black outline of a paddle with the words Asylum St. Spankers on it ("Asylum" and "St" are in small letters on the handle, "Spankers" in large letters on the face of the paddle). I'm tickled to relay that both cars were bright red in color, but I am puzzled as to the genesis of the sticker. Does anyone know whence this comes?

A bit of background

I don't want to write a whole autobiography here (most people reading this blog already know me, either in real life or from PB), but I thought I should probably set out some kind of introductory post. At least an intro about me and spanking.

I have been interested in spanking for as long as I can remember. Before I was old enough to realize that it was sexual, I knew that I was fascinated by spankings: reading about them, catching snippets in the movies, hearing parents threaten their children in supermarkets, listening to stories from family and friends. So even though I thought about it a lot, it wasn't until sometime in college I realized that all this interest was related to a specific tingling sensation and perhaps that meant it was sexual.

So yes, spanking is sexual for me. Most of my orgasms involve me being spanked or me thinking about spanking--it is possible for me to come without spanking being involved, just not common. At some point I'll probably resurrect a survey I did for an independent study in grad school about sexuality, sexual orientation and BDSM, but we'll leave that for now.

On top of being sexual, though, spanking is about discipline for me. It took me a while to come to terms with that: I was lucky to come of age in a time where spanking doesn't seem perverted or terribly unusual, but discipline? That was a whole other game, thoroughly contradictory to my liberal arts and feminist training. And probably fodder for another later post. Suffice to say that I am now at a point where I recognize that spanking-as-discipline is at least as important to me as spanking-as-sexual-expression.

I have been incredibly blessed to find strong, supportive communities and individuals who have helped me articulate my needs and find ways of having them met. Crimson Moon was the first place I found people who were totally comfortable with spanking--they had fought their own personal battles and come to peace with themselves and their needs. Through CM I met Yoni and Tasha, a couple who have become family--in fact, we were in a relationship for a time. They gave me the gift of acceptance and taught me that it is in fact ok to need to be disciplined/punished.

Through Crimson Moon I also met M. In the beginning of our relationship, he was unconvinced of his capacity to be a disciplinarian, but needless to say, he has changed. We continue to negotiate the scope and boundaries of discipline in our relationship, but he is a wonderful man and I am lucky to have him.

Chris and sparkle and their Princess became good friends through other scene friends, and they became a lifeline for me when I moved to Los Angeles over a year ago. When M and I broke up for several months, Chris stepped into the role of disciplinarian. Which means that I technically have three disciplinarians: Yoni, Chris, and M. Two of them live more than six hours away (Yoni lives in New York!), so they don't do much on a daily level, but there's still the capacity for Iris to get into a world of trouble. And neither Yoni nor Chris has much compunction about emailing M and asking him to spank me for something.

For all this blustering, you'd think that I'm constantly in trouble. I'm not. I'm a good citizen. I mostly obey traffic and other laws. I am sassy and bratty--some times more than others--but am also kind and sympathetic and very interested in helping people (my profession dictates that).

And that's enough about me for now.

Have you ever had to. . .

. . . create your own line?

Part of my punishment from Chris is to write lines. Or, as he says,

200, written in one sitting. No taking breaks to do anything else until they're done...you can sit and rest your arm occasionally, but other than that, you're not to get up except for necessary bathroom breaks.

Also,

You will select the sentence to be written. It will be at least six words long and appropriate to the situation, but does not need to be incredibly specific. Do not even think about coming up with something smart-assed, or you will be even sorrier than you're already going to be.

Well, damn. I've had to write lines a few times before, but I've always had one assigned to me. It was drudgery, but didn't involve much thought. It turns out that this is really hard. Hard because so many, many impertinent, sassy lines come to mind. Hard because I don't want it to be too long. Hard because it has to be "appropriate to the situation." And also hard because

Once the lines are written, the first page will be scanned and posted to your blog.

Eep.

The Rest of the Story

Well, here's the deal. Last night, I was this close to falling asleep when I suddenly got an over-tired rush of adrenaline, said something feisty to M, and stomped my foot. He, in a sudden and unexpected fit of toppiness, turned me over his knee and spanked me. Hard. With his hand, a hairbrush, and a paddle.

This turn of events put me in a semi-submissive headspace, wherein I decided to confess something to Chris via email. I woke up this morning and found this in my inbox:

[My full name],

Don't have time to respond in detail right now as I have to go to work, but yes, you're in big trouble, young lady. I'll let you know just how much trouble when I have time to sort it out and reply more fully.

Chris

Foolish me. I immediately crawled back in bed and whispered to M, "I think I'm in big trouble with Chris." He snuggled me sleepily, and said, "For what?"

Now this particular issue is the only issue that Chris has complete authority over. It's the same issue that he was helping me with in the winter, and one for which M isn't totally comfortable punishing me. So I responded by naming the general issue and snuggling deeper under the covers, confident that was the end of the conversation. Foolish me. M suddenly tightened his grip and said, "And when are you getting spanked for this?"

Still not realizing my peril, I said, "I dunno. Probably not until Shadow Lane."

He said, "Well, if you're in big trouble, I think you should be spanked sooner. If you have to wait for your punishment, it always gets worse. I'm going to spank you now."

And he did. With his hand, the hairbrush, and that damn paddle. Again.

So that's the story.

***
And in case you're wondering, yes, Chris has passed the rest of my sentence. But more will come on that soon.

Double Trouble

Not enough time to post the whole story now, but I'm leaving a teaser.

I have been spanked, hairbrushed, and paddled twice in the last twelve hours.  And that's only from M!  I've earned more from Chris, who is fortunately/unfortunately long distance.

To be continued...

Noise? What Noise?

M and I were away in the north this weekend, visiting his parents.  One night before bed we were goofing around and he threatened me with a hairbrush and a paddle.  

"You don't have a paddle with you!"  (I am bluffing.  He often does pack a paddle when we travel.)

"Oh no?"  Paddle not-so-magically appears from his suitcase.

"Yeah?  Well, you can't use it!  Way too loud with your parents next door!"  Feeling very smug and satisfied with myself.

He grins.  An evil grin.  "Nah.  I figure I give you one good crack and then start cursing: 'Ow!  My toe!  Stupid, mother-f@*#ing bed!  Ow!'"

Damn, he's good.

Oh, and my favorite find of the weekend?  The new pizza place in town, called SWACKS!  (Upper case letters and exclamation point included).  

Fun with Art

I've had these pictures for a long time, just waiting to post them somewhere. When I was in grad school I worked in the library; this statue sat in the middle of the atrium for about six months. It made working there simultaneously more interesting and more, um, distracting.

My question is this: what the hell do you think the artist thought the figures were doing?

My First Post

Welcome to my new blog!

I can't say that I'll post every day (or even every week), but I've long thought that I wanted to have my own forum for musing about life, spanking, friends, relationships, and perhaps a bit of theology.

So here I am. . .