Disclaimers

This blog contains adult material, including depictions and descriptions of nudity, consensual BDSM play and sexuality.
If you are a minor or are otherwise legally not permitted to view this content, or if you find this blog offensive for any other reason, you must click here to exit the page. Alex in Spankingland is vehemently opposed to the corporal punishment of children. Please click here for information on non-violent parenting.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

About Blogging

The frequency with which I post to this blog has changed drastically in the past year.
I miss it. I miss sharing with people. I miss connecting with people. I miss having a place to organize my thoughts.
But it's become extremely hard for me.

Part of it is time. When I lived in South Dakota, my days were filled with nothingness, and I looked for things to fill them with. Now, I'm usually busy. I work a lot, and I spend a lot of time doing "behind the scenes" type work. Furthermore, for the first time in years, I have an active, vibrant local social life. With Paul in England until mid-August, I tend to keep myself busy with lots of socializing when I have downtime. This means that many nights, I come home and go directly to bed, without having a chance to sit down and blog. I'm a slow writer. I have a short attention span and I'm very fussy about making sure that I get things the way that I want them before publishing something to the internet, so blogging is time consuming for me.

There's another big issue, one which is difficult for me to talk about. Probably 80% of the archive of this blog is about my relationship with Malignus. I don't like to be negative, and I'm private about the things in my life which are so. Therefore, I only wrote about the positive aspects of my relationship with him. There were many positive things there. During that relationship, I learned, grew and discovered things. We had lots of intense and wonderful scenes. The things which I wrote about were true. They were real experiences, real emotions, real understandings which I reached. There were also parts of it which happened out of the public eye which were extremely negative. Ultimately, the sum of my relationship with Malignus was destructive towards me and my emotional wellbeing. Because of this, it feels weird to sit and write in the same place but have such drastically different feelings. I need to make this clear before I can really relax into my blog again. The things I wrote about Malignus were true. I loved him. We had amazing scenes. He took me to places that I never thought I'd go. He also did things that were bad to me, and I do not condone his behavior, support him or encourage others to be involved with him. I know that the time in my life when Malignus and I broke up was poorly documented and that the transition from what was going on then to what's going on now was clunky. That's how it had to be, though.

The final reason is because my computer is ancient. I got it seven years ago. It's been an amazing machine. It visited six countries with me, and was probably on at least a hundred flights total. It's been assaulted by cats, covered in stickers and drizzled with tears. It's seen WAY more pornography than is probably recommended. Now, it's pretty crippled. The battery doesn't work, so I can only use it while plugged into the wall. The power cable doesn't connect too well anymore, though, so a quick movement or the nuzzle of a cat can unplug it and instantly make me lose everything I was doing. The wireless card no longer works, so I'm also tethered to an ethernet cable, reminding me of life back in 2005. The disc drive doesn't work anymore. The keyboard is missing so many keys that I have to use an external keyboard and sit this on top of the one which is built in. It overheats frequently. The hardware is too old to accept anymore software updates, which means that I don't even know how to use the most recent versions of Mac OS.  The past year has been expensive: there was a time when I was going to get a new laptop last year, but I ended up spending that money to move to Los Angeles (which was definitely the right thing to do). Since then, I haven't been able to save much. My computer is still working, though, which is a very good thing, but because it's become such a hassle to use, I'm less likely to want to spend more time on it than I have to.

Despite all this, I really do miss blogging. For a long time, I've wanted to get motivated to get back to it. Recently, I met someone for the first time at a spanking event and he said "I didn't realize you were actually into spanking."



I found this really upsetting. I know that not everyone is going to read my blog (obviously) but I miss having that line of communication with the spanking community. I'm looking forward to having it back.

I'm not going to make any promises about an update schedule or anything like that, but I am really going to try.

Because I miss you guys.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Texas Bound!

I'm getting ready to leave for Dallas for the Texas All State Spanking Party on Thursday. Because I skipped Boardwalk Badness Weekend, this will be my first big spanking party of the year. I'm excited as can be. Preparing for any party takes a lot of work, but this one has been keeping me especially busy, since it's Prom themed! This is super exciting, since I didn't actually get to attend either of my proms in high school. Like every girl, I dreamed of finding the perfect dress, doing my hair and makeup and dancing the night away. Fortunately, the spanking world is a place where all my long buried wishes and desires can come true. My date to the dance will be my awesome friend, Christy Cutie. Since Christy and I will both be there unchaperoned, this clearly means that we won't be getting up to any mischief at all! I'm sure that I'll be able to convince a couple other people to dance with me, too, right?

This brings me to a secret: I can't dance. At all. It's laughable when I try. I think people probably learn how to dance when they're pre-teens, a time when at all the school events I stood awkwardly at the back of the room, unnoticed by pretty much everyone. Even if that's not when you're supposed to learn, attempting to dance always reminds me of that time in my life since it's so obvious that I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm hoping to just cut loose and leave my insecurities about this at the door. At least at this dance, no one will be passing through with a beach ball and asking us to "leave room for Jesus." (That's not happening, right? Someone please confirm!)

About a week ago, Sarah Gregory was visiting Los Angeles. She was staying with Christy, and the three of us got together to go dress shopping. Before we started in earnest, we went to a couple of vintage stores where I snatched up a few awesome pieces which, once I finish assembling things, will make for some great costumes for upcoming videos/et cetera. We then headed to a couple of dress stores in my neighborhood which Christy and I had often eyed when driving by, looking at the cute, cupcake style prom dresses in the window. Trying on dresses was quite the process: prom dresses fit differently than regular clothes and since it wasn't prom season, they only had a few of each dress: not every size in every color. Still, we all found dresses that are totally adorable. Mine makes me feel like a princess, which isn't something that I feel like everyday! I can't wait to get spanked in it. In the next couple of days I still need to secure a couple of accessories, but I'm thrilled with my dress. You can expect to see me doing lots of twirls.

Another preparation besides packing (which is tedious, and involves sorting through literally hundreds of pairs of panties to find the ones that I want to bring and trying to come up with creative ways to store my multitude of bows) happened over the weekend: Christy and I took a couple of school uniforms to the tailor to have the skirts shortened. That's kind of an awkward and vaguely embarrassing thing to do, in case you've never done it before. "Hi! We're a couple of girls in our twenties and we have these matching school girl outfits that we'd like to have made sluttier, please." Well, we didn't use those exact words, but that was the idea. ;) Fortunately, the girl who waited on us believed our story about going to a costume party. That's technically not lying, right?

These skirts are no longer going to be this length the next time you see them.


I'm looking forward to seeing lots of long time friends at the party, and also to hopefully making lots of new ones.

If you're local to Dallas or going to be at the event, I'm still booking private sessions for the party. I'm available as a bottom, for those of you who'd like to have me over your lap, and, for the first time at a spanking party, as a switch or Top. I've been switching for a little while now and I've discovered that I really like it. I particularly like to play characters which emphasize my younger age: baby sitters, school bullies, sisters blackmailing employees et cetera. While getting spanked is still where my heart is, I'm happy that I've expanded to connect with people in this way. I've learned so much about the mental side of spanking as a spankee, and I love applying this knowledge from the other side. I find it immensely satisfying to give someone exactly what they need! Anyway, if you'd like to get together with me between the dates of 6/19 and 6/22 in Dallas, please email me at alexinspankingland@gmail.com so we can set something up!

They'll be an update on how my life is going coming up sometime soon, but I wanted to get this out there! Those of you going to TASSP, I can't wait to see you there!


Saturday, May 3, 2014

Outdoor Adventures

I just finished a busy week. I shall now tell you about it, bit by bit.

On Monday, Paul and I drove out to Topenga (a more "rural" area on the edge of Los Angeles where one can experience some much needed fresh air!) in the early afternoon. I was meeting up with Pandora Jones, Samantha Grace and Odette Delacroix later that day in order to shoot a custom video, but Paul and I had wanted to try and find some places to shoot outdoor spanking content for Kitchen Sink Spanking, so we decided to do that first while we were already out of the city. It may have been the end of April, but the weather in Los Angeles was already feeling more like summer time: it was warm, sunny and bright out. We found a little park and took a walk until we were under a big oak tree. I was pretty obscured from the street, but it was still close by: if I turned my back, I could see the cars rushing by. I didn't feel comfortable getting spanked so close to the road, but we did film a panty fetish video there, since it's a lot harder to notice that someone is flashing her panties than it is to miss the very distinctive sound of a spanking. As it was, that level of exhibitionism was fun and exciting without making me too nervous, but I did run into one small "filming in the countryside" snafu. While Paul had been setting up the camera, I had leisurely leaned my back against the tree. After a few minutes, I felt something tickling my arms and looked down to see red ants crawling all over me! I'm sure it was comical to watch me flailing around and trying to shake the ants off. It's a pity we weren't already filming :P. For a while after this, I kept noticing one or two ants crawling on my body, and had to pick them off. Paul seemed to think that this was a bit prissy of me, but these were red ants, and I was convinced that they were going to bite me. Red ants are not common in the area where I grew up, and they're the enemy in Sim Ant, so I tend to be distrustful of them.


GET OFF OF ME! I do realize that the placement of this image means that when this post is previewed on people's blogrolls, it will look like it's entirely about ants. Meh. 

After abandoning antville, we planned to walk back to the car by way of a path which looped around and drive on to find another park. Instead, I found a path that lead off in another direction which I wanted to explore. This was a good call: it lead down into a little gulch which held a much bigger, older tree. The branches formed a canopy around it, and we had to push them aside to go into the little "room" formed there. Inside, we found a rope and board swing hanging from one of the branches. This is exactly the kind of secret hideaway that I love. It was a private little space away from the rest of the world, and I happily climbed onto the swing (after testing it for safety, of course). Paul filmed me swinging while giving peeks at my panties for a bit, but then announced that it was time for me stop playing, as I was in need of a spanking. Why? Because the space was perfect for one. It was definitely true. No one could see us and the branches made me feel cut off from the rest of the world. It felt like we were in a private universe there.

Setting the camera up on some rocks or something, Paul directed me to bend over the swing. I did this by laying over it like it was a lap, so that my stomach was against the wood and all my limbs were sort of hanging. Paul explained that this wasn't actually a very effective way to spank me, and suggested that I stand up, bend over and grab the seat of the swing. This *did* make more sense. The other pose probably looked a bit silly. It was one I had done many times before, though: when I was younger and first fantasizing about spanking I liked to drape myself across things to imagine that I was in the OTK position, and I used the swings on the playground to do this pretty regularly. Fortunately, no one had ever asked me what I was doing.

Under the tree, Paul lifted my skirt and began to spank me. Even though it wasn't cold out at all, the fresh air made the smacks seem to sting more. Maybe it was psychosomatic, but I yelped pitifully from a simple hand spanking.



When he pulled my panties down, I felt particularly exposed. I protested that a squirrel might see me, since that was pretty much the only way that I would be observed. I knew it was silly, especially since I do plenty of fully nude tromping around outdoors when modeling, but I felt tremendously vulnerable. "Squirrels have seen everything," Paul responded, which is a strangely sage sentence, when you think about it. I wiggled and whined throughout the rest of the spanking. Once he had finished reddening my bottom, Paul asked me how I was enjoying my day out and all I could do was scrunch my face. I was enjoying it very much, but I felt strangely camera shy when asked to comment directly, especially since I've put a lot of effort into training myself not to look at the camera during spanking videos (a concept I had difficulty grasping until more recently than I'd like to admit). I think I ended up blushing and bashfully looking at the ground and saying "I guess." That's me. The queen of articulation right there! You can watch this spanking sometime soon on Kitchen Sink Spanking. It's not available yet, but will be before too long.)

A squirrel *might* see me. It's possible!


I spent a while working on another project under the tree, and then spent a little bit more time swinging just for fun before we climbed out of the branches and back into the real world. We got back into the car and drove to a piece of civilization where we found a cafe to eat a late lunch, which was extremely delicious. Soon, it was time for me to go shoot my custom video, so Paul stayed in the town to hang out while I drove off up a big hill. The place which Pandora (Jones, not Blake) had found for us to shoot was a strange but magical little hippy commune nestled in the hills. She'd rented two little houses there. Odette and I arrived around the same time and went off to find Pandora and Samantha, but we got distracted by a treehouse on the way. Odette climbed up and I snapped a picture:





I like being around Odette because she's one of the only people I know who is more eager to do fun (ridiculous) things than I am, even if hanging out with her does make me feel like a giant.

We met up with the other two girls, and I gave Pandora such a giant hug. She's the lady who helped me do my first ever kinky shoot, the first person who ever tied me up and has been a beloved friend for years, but I haven't seen her since before I left for South Dakota. She's living on the East Coast now, but was visiting LA for a little bit. It was so good to be back around her, even if we only got to see each other for a couple of hours. It was awesome to meet Samantha. I'd seen her work for a long time, and was glad to get to work alongside her! She's even prettier in person and relaxed, friendly and down-to-earth.

Before we filmed, Odette showed us her Google Glass, which she's using to make the ultimate POV experience these days. I knew very little about them, so she explained a lot of what they can do and I was very impressed. We then filmed the custom pretty directly, then spent a little while hanging out. I couldn't stay and talk for as long as I would have liked to, but it was great to have the time that we did.

I had parked on a dirt road which was also a hill, which made getting out of the commune tricky. My car slid down the hill and ended up in a pile of leaves and debris off the edge of the road. Somehow, I didn't panic, and instead put the car in neutral, got out, cleared the brush away from the back wheels and then pushed the car back onto solid terrain. Ha! Such a grown up!

I then went and picked Paul up and we headed home, where I made us a pot roast with roasted carrots and potatoes for dinner and we spent the rest of the night catching up on work before it was time for snuggles and bed.

PS- Yes! I'm back! Except more posts soon!

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

"Because You're Mine"


The day after Paul arrived back home happened to be Valentine's Day. It was positively joyful to wake up in the morning next to him, knowing that he was really here and that we'd be spending the whole day together. The day was beautiful out: sunny and warm. I made breakfast and we spent the morning and early afternoon relaxing and cuddling. At dinner time, we headed downtown to go to a favorite restaurant.
Now, I hadn't been spanked for non-professional reasons the entire time that Paul had been gone: about three months. I was antsy for as much attention as possible, and I couldn't help but let this show in acts of naughtiness while we were out. I didn't do anything serious, but I was obviously a bit hyperactive, and I pushed tiny boundaries: I ran from the car to the elevator in the parking lot. I pushed all the buttons in said elevator. I was impatient to get inside and get to dinner (all due to excitement, of course!) and I may have whined a bit. While I didn't act out much in the restaurant itself, about halfway through our meal, I discovered that the table wasn't exactly even, and by leaning on it, I could make it shift. It wasn't enough to spill anything or disturb anything, but Paul told me to stop it. So I did. But then I did it again-- entirely by accident, of course! And the third and fourth and fifth time were by accident, too. I was very accident prone, until he leaned over and whispered in my ear:

"You're going to get spanked for being so naughty when we get home. If you keep this up, you're going to get spanked here." 
I doubted that he would actually spank me in a restaurant, but since it was my favorite place, I didn't want to risk it. Despite feeling a bit squirmy after this scolding, I sat quietly through the rest of the meal and pushed only one button in the elevator on the way back down.

Once we got home, we snuggled up on the sofa for a while. I continued to talk a mile a minute to catch up on all the things that he had missed while gone. Eventually, the subject changed to my earlier naughtiness.

"I think you need to be spanked for making such mischief, and for disobeying me," he told me, pulling me over his lap as he sat on the sofa and lifting my short, heart-printed dress. I was wearing white cotton panties with pink hearts on them, and he rubbed my bottom gently for a while: it was still slightly tender from having been spanked so thoroughly the night before. Then, he started to spank me. The sound rang through the room, sounding incredibly loud, and I let out a sound which was not just caused by the sharp sting. He continued, slowly and firmly, and I cooed, purred, whimpered and wriggled. I wanted more. I wanted to be spanked even harder, and I wanted it to be faster. He teased me for a few moments, but the spanking grew, and it got exactly that: hard and fast. Soon I was gasping, overwhelmed, unable to process each individual sensation until it grew into one big, all encompassing feeling and I slipped, as if underwater, into a delicate, passive place. I was flushed with arousal and entirely content. After a few minutes, he stopped and leaned in to whisper to me again: "I don't think that spanking you is enough. I'm going to beat you." He stood me up and pulled my dress all the way off, enjoying the site of me standing in my panties for a moment before giving me an instruction: "Go get my cane."

I padded off to the kitchen, blushing in the way that being sent for an implement tends to make me blush. My heart was dancing in my chest: I hadn't been caned in a long time. Besides, I hadn't been caned by him in months, and that experience is a different thing than playing that way with anyone else. It's not just the fact that we tend to play harder together. It's an emotional thing: I'm far more vulnerable with him, and I was in a state of particularly high vulnerability. I was apprehensive, but in a positive way.

In the white cabinet in the kitchen where the implements are kept (AKA the "Cupboard of Awful") there are four canes. These can be divided into two categories: "every day" canes and "special" canes. There are two lightweight rattan canes of different lengths which are the "every day" canes. These are used when filming, during sessions, when playing with other people, when traveling and, very rarely, during our personal play. The two "special" canes are fancier, denser, scarier vintage canes. The smaller one is the cane that we use nearly all the time in our personal play. The larger one has never been used: it's reserved for very serious infractions and I'm somewhat terrified of it. It's thicker and denser than the cane that Paul usually uses during our personal scenes (both playful and disciplinary) and that cane is incredibly heavy, dense and thick. It also has a lot of emotional attachment, and this mental side of things has a strong effect on me. Without being told, I knew to select this cane, and I brought it back rather awkwardly, thinking about how much it was going to hurt.

Paul took the cane from me and bent me over with my hands on the seat of the sofa. Bent over positions feel more formal to me (as opposed to prone positions, which feel more intimate) and the mix of the formal positioning with my vulnerability and arousal, as well as our seriously intimate emotional connection worked for me. It brought me back to very old fantasies, and I quivered with anticipation. "Open your legs," he instructed, and I did so, rather sheepishly.

"I'm not going to beat you because you were naughty tonight," Paul told me. "I'm going to beat you because you're mine."

"Yes, Paul," I affirmed, floating off into a place where I was focused on belonging and couldn't feel safer.

Then, he began to cane me. The first stroke made me cry out: a mix between a wail and a sharp exhale. It bit and stung, and the pain was growing rapidly. I expected a long pause, during which I would squirm and whimper and then finally calm myself and wait for the next stroke, which would follow. I was taken by surprise when the next stroke followed rather immediately after the first. The parallel pains blossomed, and Paul gave me a short break to catch my breath before landing another pair of strokes. I tried to adapt to this new pacing, but it left me trembling. At one point, after about six or seven strokes, I whimpered out "How many?" In the past year or so, I had become very attached the idea of knowing exactly what was going to happen before it started. Paul didn't hear my question, I don't think, and I realized I didn't actually want to repeat it. I didn't need to know. I could let things be entirely out of my hands, and just trust him to give me the right amount for what I needed. I found doing this very freeing. Paul and I developed our relationship in the wake of me getting out of something which had stopped being emotionally healthy for me, and I've struggled with fears, insecurities and anxieties about things which used to seem simple to me. Paul has been incredibly patient: never pushing me too hard and always making me feel safe. It was rewarding to be able to bask in this safety without some of the nervousness that had been gnawing at me. As such, neither of us know how many strokes I actually took, but I know it was a lot. He continued in this paired fashion, and I cried out and wailed, but didn't actually break into tears. I was too happy to be in that moment, too filled with adrenaline, and too aroused to go to that place.

Finally, after what seemed like a very, very long time, Paul said "I'm going to give you six more strokes."

"Six?!" I gasped. I was expecting that he would say one or two, maybe. For a second, this many more strokes seemed impossible, but I quickly accepted it, and I took pleasure in the thought that I would take them as well as I could. Paul instructed me to shut my legs, and I knew that this meant that at least some of these strokes would be on my thighs. I braced myself for this, focusing on the feeling of belonging, of this being something decided by him for me, and of being out of control. I felt another sharp shiver of excitement course through my body. It was followed quite quickly by the first of the six final cane strokes, which landed across my thighs. I shouted: it was shockingly painful. All six of these strokes happened with fairly quick pacing, and I found myself wiggling, squirming, wailing, jumping up and down in a way which was probably rather ridiculous to look at and, all in all, struggling. They were very hard, and I could feel how swollen my thighs were already. I felt each welt rise as I gritted my teeth together, trying to bear the red hot agony that they brought. Then, it was over.

Pretty immediately, I collapsed into his arms on the sofa. Paul held me close, and I felt wrapped up, tiny and very, very loved. I thanked him for beating me, and he stroked my hair and cuddled me as I came down from my endorphin high. Finally, I stood up and gently felt the welts. They felt pretty obvious to the touch, and I wondered how it looked. I suffer from an inability to show just how severely I have been spanked sometimes, and I was afraid that this would look less spectacular than it felt.
"Do I have lines?" I asked Paul. He looked carefully.
"You have a few," he told me. "If you go look quickly you might be able to see them." I was disappointed. This was ALWAYS the way it turned out. My stupid bottom not marking up the way it should! I grumbled as I walked to the mirror, where I turned around and saw this:


There was a purple patch where two lines had crossed and the lines on my thighs were very distinctive.
"HEY!" I yelled. "You tricked me!" Paul laughed from the other room.

He then helped me document them in a couple of different lighting situations:


After taking photos, we retired to the bedroom for some time together before going to sleep.
It was the best Valentine's Day ever.