"The Other School"

A new scene involving me was just released, and I didn't write about that shoot when it happened (it was during the very dark time of me never blogging, which I hope I'm proving to you is coming to an end) so I'm going to talk a little about it now. :D

The scene is called "The Other School" and it's newly released on Dreams of Spanking. We filmed this back in April (or was it May? One of those months) when I was lucky enough to have Pandora visiting me. The time that Pandora spent visiting was extremely fun. I was very much looking forward to doing this shoot: we had me, Christy Cutie, Maddy Marks and Pandora, plus Paul topping and my vanilla partner, Rafa, helping with camera and lighting. It was a fun day of shooting (half of it was for Northern Spanking and half for Dreams) with a bunch of really great scenes. One of the ones that I enjoyed the most was this one, though.

The plot of the video is that Pandora and I go to a very strict school and our best friends, Christy and Maddy go to a more lenient one. This is made obvious by the differences in our uniforms: Christy and Maddy get to wear fairly "grown up" looking uniforms, obviously not having gotten reprimanded for shortening their skirts, and can even get away with wearing high heels. The school that Pandora and I go to is much stricter, and we wear traditional white and navy uniforms (I'm in a gym slip and Pandora is wearing a skirt and blouse) with flat shoes and have to wear ties.

I don't really know why I didn't just get dressed again for this "behind the scenes" photo. Probably because I'm ridiculous.

After a scene showing the four of us hanging out and chatting, Maddy and Christy convince us to ditch our last period study hall to go hang out with them on Friday. They wear us down from "They will literally kill us, as in, I would be dead" to "well, I guess we are seniors now..." Maddy asks "what's the worst thing that could happen?" and Christy suggests that we'll get a detention another day. Of course, this is a spanking video, so I think you can guess what the worst thing that can happen is.

Obviously, this plan ends badly for Pandora and I, and in my nervousness as we wait to be caned I engage in a lot of excessive anxious hair twirling and the two of us whisper about our fears of what will happen to us next. We're then interrupted by the stern voice of Mr. Kennedy ordering us in.
We filmed this little bit in just a couple of minutes, but it had a strong effect on both Pandora and I. When it comes to school type scenes, we share a lot of the same kinks, and this moment really played into it for both of us. Apprehension, formality, sternness, the bond between those being punished together... all these things were spot on for both of us. I remember after we filmed this bit, Pandora turned to me and said "Well, that's most of my school kink summarized in two minutes" or something along those lines.

Maddy and Christy decide that they feel guilty that we're probably in more trouble than they are, so they sneak into our school, peering into a door that leads to our gymnasium, where they discover that Pandora and I are getting beaten. They decide that they need to confront our headmaster and let him know that it's their fault, too. The caning scene here was tough for me: I accidentally gotten a patch of broken skin a while prior to the shoot and it hadn't healed yet (this is not something that usually happens to me and I was very freaked out by it) but I had still really wanted to participate in the scenes that we had planned. This one, particularly, was one I was looking forward to. Stern, formal school scenes are so close to the core of my kink, and I love doing scenes with a lot of girls in them, especially ones who I adore like these three!

Paul didn't go easy on me: the strokes cut and burned and bit the way that canings always do. I was deeply immersed in the scene and thinking about how I had gotten myself into so much trouble and how embarrassing it was to be getting caned (if you watch the film, my face is bright red when you see the reaction shots). When Paul and I do roleplay scenes together, we're able to slip perfectly into the characters that we're playing. I don't know what's going on in his head, but for me, I'm never aware of the fact that he's my boyfriend and I'm head over heels in love with him. That foundation creates a huge amount of trust that allows me to give up control and just enjoy whatever we're doing, but in that moment, I'm intimidated by him because he's my strict and fearsome headmaster. And after that moment, I'm sky high with happiness at this phenomenon.

Anyway, back in the film, Maddy and Christy explain to Paul that they feel that our misbehavior was all their fault (while both looking adorably nervous) and ask to share the punishment. I really like this whole idea. A lot of the school stories that were the origin of many of my original fantasies focused on the "codes of honor" that students shared about protecting each other, and I find hearing Maddy suggest that they should be caned as well incredibly hot on an unrelated note. Paul agrees and lessens the punishment due to Pandora and I, dividing the 12 strokes we were each due across the four girls and therefore leaving us with six each. Although I was originally getting my strokes over my panties, once the sentence was reduced we wind up having to take them on the bare. Serious ouch. Group punishment means watching your friends get punished, either while nursing a sore bottom or worrying about what will be about to happen to you! I think I got off easiest since I got the first caning, since I didn't have to worry about my own impending beating while watching my friends get theirs:

In the end, we were a sore and well striped bunch of girls:

After we finished filming, there were cuddles all around and we enjoyed hanging out before going on to the next (and last) scene of the day. When we finished shooting, we went out to dinner to celebrate. All in all, an awesome shoot and a scene that I love. I especially appreciate that Dreams released a scene involving me and Paul right after he left: I often prevent myself from missing Paul TOO much by watching scenes involving the two of us. I can dive back into the memory of being there with him, plus, thanks to the miracle of spanking porn, I can hear Paul's voice even on days when I don't talk to him!

"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. ♥

CCM: Thursday, part 1

On Thursday, I woke up as late as I could get away with, since I had fallen asleep around six thirty or something in the morning. I wasn't thrilled to be going into a party on that little sleep, but it was sort of inevitable and there was nothing I could do about it.

The day started out with Paul and I filming with Sarah Gregory for Northern Spanking-- you can read his notes on the shoot here. Paul started working out ideas for scenarios weeks ago, and it was kind of fascinating to see his process. Because we were filming in the hotel, Paul created a set of scenarios which made sense for us to be in such a setting instead of trying to pretend that we were somewhere else and this lead to some rather creative thinking on his part. I was a little nervous about filming because it was my first time ever being on camera for some of the scenes and it was my first time actually filming with Sarah! We've known each other for a while, and we roomed together and I shot a scene for her site while we were at TASSP, so we were comfortable around each other, but we had never actually done any films together until this day.

From my shoot for Sarah's site back in June

Filming with Sarah went quickly and smoothly, since she (obviously!) knows what she's doing. Two of the scenes we shot included her bottoming, which she only does rarely these days, so that was kind of special. The first scene involved Paul playing a seedy private detective and Sarah being a cheating wife who he catches at her meeting place. This was the first time that I got to watch Paul spanking another girl for a film in real life: every time we'd filmed together previously, I was the only one getting spanked. I enjoyed getting to watch this scene, even if through the camera, especially because Paul's character was a bit wicked and I've always enjoyed those sorts of scenes. :D Sarah looked great, too, in her sexy lingerie (but then again, she always looks great!)

The second scene involved me getting spanked by Sarah and is the first film that the two of us have done together. We'd played during group roleplay events before, but never on camera. Sarah is a great top and is easy to roleplay with, and the spanking that she gave me was delightful. Additionally, this was the first time in my entire life that I wore heels with jeans, and I think I like the look! I'd never done it before because I avoided heels except for the most specialist of occasions since I used to have height related self esteem issues, but those don't bother me anymore so I've been enjoying experiments like this. :D In the film, I play a sneaky, snarky writer who gets caught in a hotel I've written poor reviews of many times by an irate manager, played by Sarah. I consider scenes where I'm unabashedly not repentant for me behavior a challenging area for me, but I think I'm getting better at it. When I need clever snark, I ask myself what Erica Scott would say. When I need to be bratty and awful, I borrow a page from The Bad Alex's daily life. I think that the film ended up being great: funny and full of delightful girl/girl spanking action. ^_^

Scene number the third was between Sarah and Paul again, with Sarah playing a second-rate erotic author and Paul playing her irate publisher. This scene ended up being particularly funny, and I had to keep my composure behind the camera and not giggle at their antics (which I did manage to do, thankfully!) Sarah looks lovely in jeans, I have to say. :P

The final scene was between Paul and I, and it was actually the first time that we'd played on camera since the end of March, so that was pretty exciting. This was our original type of interaction, and it was nice to return to it, now bringing the massive chemistry that comes when two people know each other as intimately as we now do. It was also the first time that we did a film in which we played a couple since we actually became one, so that was a bit sweet. Paul was vague about the description of this film's content in his post so I suppose that I had better be, too, but it's a cute story with a delightful caning in it which was hard enough that when it was finished, Sarah marveled at my composure.

I helped pick out some of the images that Paul put up on the forum when he wrote about this shoot, and this was one of the ones that I chose. I like it for the normal reasons: I look scared and vulnerable, Paul looks determined and threatening et cetera, but also because of his shadow on the curtain. I like imagining that we're on a ground floor and a passerby might see this silhouette from outside and perhaps stop to watch the shadow-puppet version of my thrashing. How deliciously voyeuristic!

When we had finished shooting, I had to run off pretty much right away because I had an appointment in Detention! Joe (Drlectr) and Mama Blue were running a series of short "Principal's office" detention scenarios and I was scheduled for shortly after the filming finished. Joe and I have played hundreds of times, and he's one of the people with whom I've played the most intimately and emotionally intensely, but we've never really done any roleplay scenarios. I know that he's fond of school style paddling scenes, and I love any kind of roleplay which is highly formalized, so I figured the scene was going to be good. I take great delight in the embarrassment of having someone else watching me be punished, like Vice Principal Blue!

I was already in my uniform so I ran up to Joe and Ten's room to wait outside the doorway. They were talking to someone in the room, so I had to wait outside.

Waiting in this hallway, knowing that in a minute, I was about to be paddled and that it would be quite severe was something directly from my fantasy life. Everyone on the floor was at the Crimson Moon party, which meant that everyone who passed and saw me stood outside Joe's room in my uniform knew that I was waiting for my detention. This also meant that they weren't judging me, but that didn't remove the squirmy feeling in my tummy every time someone walked by. Finally, Joe, now Principal Lectr, opened the door and called me in.

A lot of my roleplay characters are helpless and innocent, but that was certainly not the case today. The scene that Joe and I had written involved me being in trouble for attempting to seduce my male teachers, and I was full of confidence and eroticism, flirting with Principal Lectr even as he lectured me on my wicked ways. "You seem to think this is alright!" Vice Principal Blue said in dismay. "You're going to have to start seeing the school counselor once a week!"

"Will it be a male counselor?" I asked with a flirtatious grin. The authority figures had had enough of me, so I was bent over the desk for eight paddle swats, which were delivered firmly and on the bare. The paddling wasn't much of a sanction for me, though, and I kept up my act, hoping for a little extra attention. I got just that, in the form of a hard, OTK spanking after the paddling. When the scene was over, Mama Blue took off and Joe and I got to enjoy some time together. Joe is wonderful. I'm so lucky to have him in my life.

After this, Joe walked me back to my room and we told Paul about our roleplay. Then Paul and I took a little time to regroup before heading down for dinner. We hadn't had much lunch, so we mostly used this as a time to socialize and see who was at the party already before heading out to get a bite and some drinks nearby. During dinner, Naughty Freckles asked me if I'd be willing to be a rope-bunny for the "Fit to be Tied and Spanked" demo later that night, which I gladly accepted. Bondage can be a lot of fun, and I do get a little thrill out of performing in front of a group. Between dinner and the demo, Paul and I ran to the store (without me ever bothering to change out of my school uniform!) and then got back in time to be able to socialize a bit before I needed to start. Paul finally got to meet LLB, who is very dear to my heart, and a handful of my other friends.

Then it was time for the demo! Kinkmedic, from 12:11 Kink taught some basic ties and showed how they can be used for spanking. This included tying me up, including in a bent over position where he then balanced a cup of Mountain Dew on my back while I tried very hard to stay still. Afterwards, they passed out rope and people practiced the ties and I allowed people to practice on me, too. It was a lot of fun, and the ties were effective, easy and comfortable. "A+ would be tied up by again!"rating!

After the demo, we snuck out and ate dinner, then ran into about 15 of my favorite people who were entering the restaurant as we were leaving. We headed upstairs, where I probably got changed again and we went to Joe and Ten's suite. There were only a few people hanging out in there, since most everyone else had gone to dinner, but I had a good time talking to everyone, including the person behind Spanking Resource (I don't know if he uses a particular name online or not!) and a few others.
At one point I did something out of line and needed to be spanked (gasp!) so Paul selected one of Big Bubba's Bible Belts and applied it to me. Big Bubba is a friend of mine who does leatherworking, and his belts with "Bible" stamped on them are a perennial favorite. It started out as just a pun, but the belts are fairly lightweight, delightfully pliable and capable of being used across intensities. This instance of the implement belongs to Joe, and it's obvious that he's spanked about 108 girls with it because it was delightfully well broken in and clearly an implement "of joy!" It was stingy in a light and delicious way... dare I say it was even "sensual." I didn't want the spanking to stop, ever! I made Paul promise that we'd buy one for ourselves at the vendor's fair.

The next thing that I wrote in my notes is "Bad Alex is Bad." I have no idea what particular incident this refers to, because that's kind of like writing notes on a day out hiking and saying "The sky is blue." A while before the party, Bad Alex and I were arguing back and forth and I called her some kind of awful insult, as we tend to do to each other. Instead of just responding with one of her signature, creative insults ("your breath smells like Bigfoot's dick") Bad Alex decided to write a long and carefully worded email to Paul, explaining how I had wronged her and how she wanted to keep my "good girl status intact" by telling on me "for my own good." I'm sure she said "I'm just a little girl" somewhere in there, too. Of course I ended up getting caned, because there's no fairness anywhere in the Universe when Bad Alex is involved (remember, I once got 14 strokes of the cane because she punched me in the knee!)
At CCM, she continued this masquerade of being a good girl who is unfairly accused by me by being sweet and polite whenever Paul was around and then turning around and insulting or slapping me when he wasn't looking. He always seemed to be looking when I retaliated, though, and I was soon jumping up and down at the unfairness of it all. I had high hopes of seeing Alex properly punished sometime this weekend, though, and my best bet was at Spanking Court on Saturday night. Bad Alex claimed she had a foolproof defense, but I wasn't so sure. As soon as the box was out in the main room, I filed a class-action case against her as "The Good Alex representing the people of CCM vs. Bad Alex for harassment."

This seems like a good stopping point for this post. I suspect that CCM will be broken up into about 5 or 6 posts total, since I took notes and everything. Please stay tuned! ♥

A Very Long Walk

I'm back!
FINALLY!
I've never let this blog sit around uncared for for such a long time. I finally have the basic pieces of my life in order now, though: my house is nearly unpacked, I have most of the furniture that I require and all of my appliances, my cats are happily adjusted to the new home and, perhaps most importantly, I finally have internet. It took them two weeks to get around to setting it up. It was ridiculous. I got tremendously behind on everything that I needed to do, since nearly all of it involves being online.
I'm finally getting caught up now. It's very time consuming.

But life is good.

Paul and I are growing into a comfortable lifestyle as things get settled. Like everyone else in the world, we spend most of our days doing our respective jobs, but we both do large parts of that from home so we spend a lot of time together. I make dinner nearly every night and do lots of baking, which makes me happy. Between work and chores and making cookies, there's time for me to do the silly things that I like, such as drawing with sidewalk chalk, chasing my cats around and doing craft projects such as making foxes out of paper.

Two dozen cookies from scratch, one dozen foxes from construction paper

After I made them, Paul used string to carefully hang them from the weeping branches of the tree in our yard, whose trunk is wrapped with tiny, solar powered Christmas lights. Our mail box is matte black, so I color on it with the sidewalk chalk. We have a pumpkin on our stoop and yellow flowers growing in a planter. It's so incredibly obvious that I live here. It's a very happy house.

Paul and I have grown very comfortably into having D/s as part of our daily lives instead of maintaining a long distance relationship, probably partially because the foundation that we built during the time that we were long distance was so strong. Aiding in the ease of this transition is the fact that we both have a very strong and well defined idea of what we want from one such relationship and that those ideas are very much in line (see also, our compatibility). I'm sure that being seriously in love doesn't hurt, either.

Just as our daily life has become very domesticated, our daily kink life has, too, in a way that I find infinitely comforting. Spanking fits into our daily life seamlessly. It's the most natural thing in the world. Our bedtime ritual involves me getting spanked each night as a re-affirmative act, but spankings just happen throughout the day, too, whether it's taking a break from work for spontaneous play or setting time aside to address something more serious.

Interestingly, now that I'm living in a location where I have a lot more kinky friends and scene activities to participate in, I've found myself much more involved and interested in my vanilla life. I've been reconnecting with old friends, doing personal writing projects, doing craft projects, doing more baking and more experimental cooking and just generally rediscovering interests that I had put aside.

One thing that I really like is walking. That sounds like a very lame thing to like, doesn't it? I do, though. In college, Zeki and I used to walk huge distances, sometimes passing through two or three towns, or even out of the county. We'd talk and share stories. Some of our best mutual ideas were fostered during these walks. Other days, I would walk by myself, usually on a shady trail that followed the Bronx River. I would get deeply involved in daydreaming and often make up spanking stories in my head or review others that I really enjoyed, sometimes from films, sometimes from my own limited experiences with SF.

The other day I decided to go take a walk, since I needed to talk to someone on the phone I get antsy when I'm just sitting still when I'm on the phone. Paul was working in the study, so I told him I'd be back shortly. I did plan to be back shortly. Maybe I didn't really plan at all, because I was wearing jelly flip-flops and I didn't have any water with me and it was a particularly dry, hot day. None the less, my conversation ended pretty quickly, but I kept walking for a while, daydreaming happily like I used to do. I realized that I was walking in the direction of a particular major road where Target is located, and I decided that it would be neat if I walked all the way there. It's about a mile away from my house, so it was certainly feasible-- I've done 8 - 10 mile walks in the past. I needed to go there anyway, and I estimated that I was about halfway there already. I'd walk the rest of the way, get the hangers I needed and then walk home.

Unfortunately, I wasn't actually walking the way that I thought I was.

Two miles later, I was hot, dehydrated and tired. My feet were incredibly sore and seriously blistered. I decided that I needed to give up and turn around.

I tried to walk home, but I got about six blocks before I realized that there was no way I could possibly do that. I was tired. I needed a drink. This was a stupid idea.

I slowly began to realize how poorly I had planned this. Why did I think it was a good idea to walk in the heat without water or proper shoes? I hadn't even told Paul where I was going, and he was under the impression I was going to be back shortly. I realized that I'd been gone for nearly an hour. Under the strap of my sandal, my feet looked like they were about to bleed.

It was then that I realized I was going to have to ask Paul to come get me in the car. It was also then that I realized that I was probably going to be in pretty serious trouble. Taking care of myself is pretty much rule #1. This was a serious failure in that department.

Well, fuck.

Paul agreed to come get me without really saying anything about it, but as soon as I got into the car, I knew that he was seriously displeased with me.

"Are you mad?" I asked, my voice small and meek.
"You're going to be punished when we get home" was his only response. We drove back in silence. I could do nothing but think about how thoughtless this had been. I'd interrupted Paul's working. I had entirely failed at taking care of myself. Tears ran down my face, and I sniffled a bit.

As soon as we got in the door, Paul turned to me and said "Go to your room." I went into our bedroom and flopped on the bed. I didn't want to stand up. My feet hurt too much. I was hot. I was tired. I was in big, big trouble. I lay there like a lump, doing an activity which really can't be described as anything but "sulking." In the seeming eternity (but actually one or two minutes) before Paul came in I could hear him moving around in the kitchen. Then I heard the sound of a cabinet being opened and shut again, and my heart began to pound.

There's a shallow, white cabinet in the kitchen. It's separated from the other kitchen cupboards and obviously original to the house, but it's only about three inches deep. I'm not sure what it was used for, but it's become the official storage place for some of our meanest implements.

I wanted to mope about the fact that I was about to be seriously corrected, but I couldn't bring myself to. I knew that I deserved it. Still, my tummy hurt.

Paul finally came into the room holding a cane. I had sort of known that was going to be the end of this story from the moment that I realized that I had messed up so badly, but the reality of the situation was sinking in very quickly.

In addition to feeling upset about how thoughtless my actions were, I had been really focused on worrying that Paul was mad at me for inconveniencing him. Having to stop your work to go rescue a silly girl who got herself into a mess is bound to annoy anyone. But once he began to scold me, I realized that he was much more upset about the fact that something bad could have happened to me. I felt very loved as he lectured me about thinking before I did things and taking care of myself. I could feel how precious I am to him, and how he won't let any harm come to me, even through my own poor judgement.

Then he ordered me over the bed and began to spank me. While technically a warmup, he started hard and furiously. In my tired, vulnerable state, I pretty instantly started to sob hard, offering absolutely no emotional resistance to the spanking. I needed it. I knew that.

I felt impossibly sore after the warm up, but this was probably mostly because of my mental state at the time. Then Paul ordered me to kneel up on the bed, which I did quickly. I kept my feet off the edge of the bed because they had gotten filthy as I was walking around on the dusty sidewalks in flip flops. Paul noticed this, too, and said "You'll clean your feet after this," which I quietly affirmed through my tears. "Get down on your elbows," he told me, and this made me cry harder, but I did as I was told. This position means only one thing: strokes to the tender area where my thighs and bottom meet. Paul then tapped my bottom with the cane before simply saying "Ten."

The first stroke startled me into some sort of clarity for a second, although after the initial crack, during that long moment when the pain begins to built and develop, I felt overtaken by hurting and began to cry again. The next two or three were quickly paced-- no time for one to finish building before the next and I could make no attempt at processing them. I wailed. After five strokes, he gave me a little break, pressing his hand against the welts in the same motion that I do when a beating is over. The pressure seems to hold the pain in for a moment. I caught my breath, but didn't slow my sobbing.

The next two strokes were to that aforementioned tender area. I did my best not to yell, but I felt an overpowering warmth: burning, biting, pinching, gnawing heat. The rest of the strokes came in quick succession, and after each one, my cries became louder and more desperate.

It's a very good thing that we live in a house instead of an apartment. I'm....noisy.

When the whole thing was over, Paul immediately sat down on the bed and pulled me onto his lap, holding me close to him. I wiped tears all over my face in some attempt of cleaning myself up and apologized over and over. He stroked my hair and told me he forgave me.

Part of our protocol surrounding scenes is that I always thank him for spanking me. This is something that I initiated because it makes me feel very submissive in the best way. After being soundly punished I felt a bit shy to say this this time, but I managed it out in a coy whisper. "Good girl," he told me, kissing my forehead. I sat there on his lap for a long time, entirely vulnerable, my bottom aching and burning but my tears drying. I felt lucky to be so loved. I was filled with contentment.

Finally, I felt calm enough to get up and get myself properly cleaned up. I rinsed my feet off and then climbed into a cool bath, the water still feeling tingly and antagonistic against my welts. I was glad, though. I didn't want them to be fully soothed. I didn't stop to take a picture of the lines, but they were impressive: perfectly parallel and close enough together that they very nearly touched, but not quite.

Anyway, I'm back now. I'll be updating one to two times a week, as I used to. I've missed writing, and I hope you've missed reading.♥

Schoolgirls and sailors!

I only have three more things that I really feel are important to share about BBW. The rest of the party was wonderful, but it was ages ago, and holy crap, really Alex? You need to get caught up. So, here are my final three stories. I'm totally writing this from TASSP right now. My inability to keep up to date with this stuff is OUT OF CONTROL. Additionally, I'm sorry that recently my blog has simply been a series of stories about adventures most of the time, in case anyone finds that boring. Soon, my life will be settling for a while and I'll get caught up and back to my regular programing. I've had really ridiculously low traffic this month, so I'm sorry for whatever isn't awesome about what I've been up to recently. I'm still here, and I'll do my best to get back to updating regularly and excitingly as soon as I can! 

There were a lot of British people at BBW, including a handful of my favorite people. I think it was Richard Windsor's idea to have a "Meet the Brits" party. I liked this party quite a bit because various people had brought biscuits and sweeties and other things that I was missing after returning to the US, and I munched on this stuff while socializing with whoever was around. At one point, Bad Alex and I ended up chatting to Mr. Allen again. I mentioned earlier that Bad Alex had sort of punched me on the knee earlier, and it had marked up. As the three of us hung out, I noticed this bruise again. "Mr. Allen," I kind of whined, "Alex hit me. It left a mark, look!" He looked, and asked Alex if she had, indeed, hit me. She openly and unabashedly admitted to it, and probably included her trademark phrase: "sucks to suck!" As the victim, I was asked what punishment seemed appropriate and I suggested that she should be caned.

"Fine," Alex said. "But tattletales get double."
"Agreed," said Mr. Allen.

Then my head exploded. Where was this rule every time that I did the tiniest little thing wrong and Mila felt it was her sisterly duty to tell everyone she could think of about it? It seemed to me that when someone tattled on me and I complained about it, the response was always "She's just looking out for your best interest" or "She needs to protect herself." The unfairness of the universe was overpowering. I probably stamped my foot, but I don't remember.

Alex got her caning, which was enjoyable to watch. There was some sliver of fairness left in the world, because each of the six strokes obviously hurt, and everything is right when Bad Alex is experiencing something painful as consequence for her badness. Then it was my turn. "This isn't fair!" I reminded everyone. "I didn't do anything wrong!" Mr. Allen looked at me with an expression that suggested that I was close to earning even more strokes if I kept up my complaining, though, so I bent over the chair. They weren't hard, full bodied strokes, but they weren't overly playful, either. And, as the other stories in the previous posts will remind you, I'd played a lot that weekend. I was sore as could be, and each stroke made me whimper and yelp. Near the end of my thrashing probably at the tenth stroke or so, Lucy and Stephen came into the room and sat down at the end of the bed next to us. Lucy inquired about why I was being caned and Mr. Allen and Alex explained it to her.

"Yes, that seems quite fair," Lucy said.
"WHAT?! Why does everyone think this is fair?!" I protested, making a scrunchy face at Lucy.  (My blog doesn't support me making the emoticon scrunchy face but you'll just have to imagine it. A lot).
"Mr. Allen!" Lucy immediately called out, "Alex just made a horrid face at me!"
"Did you?" Mr. Allen asked and I nodded pitifully, unable to tell a lie. "You'll be getting extra strokes,"  he told me. In my mind, the amount of extra strokes was four, but it's very possible it was actually two. My memory can be a bit faulty when it comes to these things, especially as time passes.

It was impossibly hard not to scrunch my face up at this announcement, but somehow I managed, knowing quite well that it wouldn't be a wise choice. The extra strokes (however many they were) were harder, and I yelped more loudly than I had previously, shuffling my feet and grinding my toe against the floor. This was the first time I'd ever been punished for making a scrunchy face. It was not the last.

The reason why I find this story particularly noteworthy is because I wanted to get Bad Alex caned. In the process, I ended up taking probably sixteen strokes. I got ten more strokes than she did. Somehow, this still felt "worth it" to me. Why? Because Bad Alex is Bad. Besides, I like unfairness. I like it when someone I know well and trust lies to me about what will and won't happen in a scene (YS does this quite regularly. He tells me he's only giving me two strokes and then gives me six, or something like that). The feeling of this scene spiraling out of what I expected it to be was invigorating. I felt like I was being swept along, caught up in the current of some river of caning. There was something much more interesting about not being able to be certain when things would end. 

The good and the bad!

The second incident took place on the Sunday before we all left BBW. ellee and I had negotiated a group roleplay scene with Richard Windsor before the party. Richard had given us pretty much free reign on the scenario, within the agreed upon context that it was a school roleplay that was meant to end with us getting caned. ellee and I brainstormed for a long time, tossing back and forth various ideas over email and IM. Eventually, one of my ideas won out: we would be in trouble for having a secret pet  in our dorm. ellee filled in a lot of the details: we'd found a litter of kittens behind the supply shed and had taken them in because they were oh-so-cute instead of telling someone in authority about them. As the kittens grew, they caused all sorts of problems: they tore up the carpet and wallpaper, peed all over things, gave a girl an asthma attack and, probably worst of all, brought fleas into the building. Everyone in the dorm had them, and the dorm director was at a loss for what was causing the "bedbug problem." Eventually, the asthma attack had gotten us brought to attention and our dorm director wrote a letter to the headmaster, Mr. Windsor. ellee and I carefully crafted this letter, including making a fake email address for the "dorm director" to send it to Rich. 

Unfortunately, it was a bit hard for Rich to punish us for having kittens, being an animal lover himself, so it may not have been the ideal scenario. It was totally us, though: earnest, mostly good, accidentally in a lot of trouble, rather sad about it. 

On Sunday, when it was time for our scene, ellee and I got dressed up in school uniforms that didn't match at all. (We now have matching school skirts. This changes everything. Next party that we're at together, we take over the world). Still, we both felt like school girls, and that's what counts. We came into Rich's room and he was in character, lecturing us from the door about what we'd done wrong and how much trouble we were in. We stared at the ground repentantly, trying to give answers that weren't too snarky. Eventually, it was decided that we knew better, and that we'd caused a lot of damage, so we were both to be spanked and then we'd each get twelve strokes of the cane. Rich sent me to stand in the corner while he spanked ellee, first-- he later told me that he did it this way because he knew that this would build a lot of anticipation and have a strong affect on me, and he was entirely right. I try to take cornertime seriously, even in a roleplay, because it's such an important part of my kink. This time, though, the lighthearted nature of our pretending and the fact that elleebutt was getting spanked right behind me got the best of me, and I kept turning around to peek. Rich caught me and told me that if I looked back again, I'd get extra strokes. I couldn't help myself. I looked back again. I guess I'm just never satisfied with twelve strokes of the cane. I have to keep earning extra. 

Once he finished spanking ellee, he switched and put me over his lap. I tried to oogle ellee while she stood in the corner near me, but I was far too distracted by the spanking at hand.

The spanking was brisk, and I was already sore, so I wiggled and squirmed around. When it was done, Rich got me up and got ellee out of the corner and directed us to bend over opposite sides of a small table, where we'd be receiving our canings.

In position! (ellee is the cutest girl ever to live)

He then gave ellee the first stroke, which made her yelp. After that, he walked around the table to my side, to deliver my first one. This process was long and very, very anticipatory. Anticipation can be a hugely positive factor in a scene for me, and a lot of the play that Richard and I have engaged in together has emphasized this. The whole set up served to get into my head quite a bit, which seems to be another big factor in the scenes that Richard and I have done. After I got each stroke, I saw ellee's face as she got hers. We grabbed each other's hands in solidarity and comfort, and I felt her squeeze me as things hurt.

EVEN HER HANDS ARE CUTE!

Eventually, we worked through all the strokes, except for the additional two that I'd be getting. At this point, I was greatly regretting my antics earlier. The caning had been quite hard, and I'd gotten a few on my thighs, making me cry out and whimper lots and lots. I wasn't crying, but I was quite contrite and well thrashed feeling. The last two really "counted." This is the way of the world when you earn extra strokes, I suppose. I considered going back to being an excessively good girl all the time, in order to avoid any more of these in the future. :P

The scene ended with the two of us in the corner, then we had that semi-awkward moment where we broke character, then we giggled and hugged.

So much sweetness. 

The final noteworthy adventure at BBW took place IMMEDIATELY AFTER THIS, and much running around was involved to get from this adventure the next. The next was the "Adult Speaking" boat cruise, which was really, really fun. We had to change quickly and then basically teleport to the place where the bus was taking us to the dock, except that we can't actually do that, so we had to run really quickly through a big hotel instead. But it was worth it! It was lots of fun to hang out on the boat, once we all eventually got there.

I like boats. I like boating. I grew up in Southern New Jersey on the coast, extremely close to where we were boating at the time, and I felt very, very at home. It was a wonderful feeling to be able to be being myself, totally and entirely while I was in my home setting. I spent time with each of the people who had come on the boat that was special to me. I had a couple of drinks. I had Pandora take photos of me climbing stairs in my sailor dress:

Then, of course, there was the customary "Drawbridge spanking" where everyone lines up and gets spanked in front of a drawbridge, while everyone in their cars can see us. I was slightly embarrassed by this idea, but I went for it anyway. Joe (drlectr) spanked me. I love Joe.

This is one of my all time favorite photos. 

That's really all I have to say about the boat trip. I do want to share one more photo, because I feel that it's a gem beyond compare. Here's me and my darling twinsie, ellee, on the boat:

ellee looks so thoroughly spanked. I don't look to pale myself!

This concludes my posting about BBW. Onward to further adventures! Thanks for your patience! I love you all! ♥

Most Delightful Spankings

I am going to get through this complete narrative if it's the last damn thing I do. I don't know why it's so important to me that I do, especially because adventures keep happening and piling up and it would make more sense for me to cut my losses and just jump to the more recent. But I'm going to. Really. 

I know there has been some lag in when this blog has been updated, but I guarantee you that this time, I'm on a good schedule for quite some time now. Thanks for sticking by me as I've been busy darting around the world on spanking adventures. Your readership means so much to me. 

The first person to spank me on Friday morning at BBW was YS. After getting ready for the day, I crawled up on his bed and we chatted about things that were going on in my life at the time. When that was finished, he put one leg out and put me over it (a very practical form of on the bed OTK) and then spanked me. He spanked me with a bunch of things, but I didn't really get a good look at them. I just got a good feel of them. Many of them were wooden, and they hurt. It was still early in the day, and I think I may have been a bit whiny about things at first, but I quickly broke down and let myself fall into things. Damn, it hurt. YS almost always spanks me quite hard, but I felt very safe and comfortable in the position that he put me in. I was somewhat physically resistant, though, by the standards of this relationship. I clutched at the blankets and wiggled a bit and despite being reminded to, I was unable to keep my body relaxed. I worked at it as the spanking went on, and I think I made some progress, but it wasn't easy. When YS was finished, I felt very physically worn out at first, and cuddled on the bed next to him for a while. After that, I was back to my perky self, and we went off to lunch. 

I think that Beth took this photo. If so, thank you, Beth!

I spent a lot of the rest of the day hanging out with friends and having fun. At one point, I did something annoying to TheBadAlex and she responded by whacking me in the knee. This left a bruise that will become significant later on in the story. [God, Bad Alex, stop being such a bitch!] Later, we went to the meet and greet and I hung out with a nice variety of people, as basically everyone was there. The Famous Kat, who I met for the first time after years of internet friendship, showed me a place where I could stand on the balcony and it would make my dress fly up. I like that. I like that an awful lot. The lightweight nature of dress material is an important factor in my selection of clothing on a windy day. :) 

Win!

After the event, SpankingJoe (different than Drlectr) and Bad Alex and I got together to talk in Joe's room. This was a very complex proceeding that involved Joe setting up chairs in front of a desk and getting out a big, school type paddle. Because he knew that having the two of us together would probably result in mischief. Alex did, indeed, say something off color or complain about something, I don't remember what, and she ended up being bent over the desk for ten swats. I probably gloated a bit about the fact that she was getting spanked, and I think she certainly would have found a way to throw me under the bus (such a bitch! Damn you, Bad Alex!) but it was time for me to go. 

Earlier in the day, I had a very intense conversation with Lucy, which was really wonderful for me. It's part of my personal life, the stuff that doesn't go on here, but we talked about a lot of things and she looked after me in with a level of dedication and caring that was more than most people ever have in my life. That's not meant to put anyone else down, just to say that she went above and beyond the call, and that I adore her for it. Part of this involved her setting things up for me to play with her partner, Stephen Lewis at a set time and location, and that time was nearing. 

Stephen and I had never played together off camera before. I knew that I liked scening with him for work purposes very, very much. He's good with characters. He's willing to be a bit weird when the scene calls for it, and he's very willing (perhaps even eager) to go to the darker places that I have recently found that I delight in. We weren't going to roleplay this time, though. We were just going to be ourselves, and I was greatly looking forward to that.  I knew that he plays hard. I'd seen photos of him having played with other girls where they were quite marked. It may have only been Friday, but at that time for my own reasons, I wanted to play hard. I wanted someone to beat me, and soundly. I felt very stable and secure because I knew that he would. I knew that I didn't need to ask him to, or to sell him on the idea. I felt confident that he understood me enough to do what needed doing. As I walked to the room he and Lucy were sharing, my heart pounded against the inside of my chest with heavy anticipation. My tummy felt funny. It was wonderful.

I knocked on the door and he opened it. We talked a bit, and then he put a straight backed chair in the middle of the room and took off his jacket, having me hang it up. Then he put me over his lap and he began to spank me. I had let him know that I wanted my thighs to be spanked as well, and he was more than willing to do so. Every smack hurt in a way that radiated through my body. Often, when I really feel the need to be spanked hard, I find myself easily overwhelmed when I get what I need, lost at sea, struggling and crying and that letting go process leaves me feeling strong again. That wasn't what happened this time. Stephen spoke to me very positively, and the combination of his words and the pain that grew and grew in my bottom and thighs (especially when he switched from his hand to a lightweight little hairbrush type paddle, and then to a much heavier and thicker one) made me feel edified. I didn't feel like weakness left me and afterwards, that hollow space left was inflated with strength. I felt all the things in me, the feelings and the vulnerability harden into an unbreakable, positive core. I felt safe. I felt like myself. I felt like everything that had been dark had been illuminated. 

I didn't cry. I had assumed that I would, but instead, I felt joyful. I could feel the red growing, could feel that there were probably purple speckles forming, especially on my sit spot and thighs. Each smack felt hot, and burning tingles radiated out from the center of the impact. Finally, eventually, it ended. 

"This is about what you need," Stephen said, "but it's also about what I want. I want to cane you now, so I am going to." I was, in that moment, entirely submissive, which is a rare thing for me when I'm playing with someone with whom I don't have a dynamic. I knew that it was a temporary and fleeting thing, and that was fine, almost positive feeling. Having it be an encapsulated moment instead of a part of a timeline (not to say that we'll never play again, as I'm certain that we will have other chances to, but there was nothing being built or worked at, it was just a moment) made it all that more refreshing, and I needed that. 

I climbed over the end of the bed to be caned. I think I took a total of 33 strokes, many of them on my thighs, although by no means all of them. He used several different canes, increasing in intensity as they went on, but I don't remember very much about them. I just remember the process: calm, stillness and then a white, hot pain, and then the secondary pain that follows-- an aching, chewing pain. Then calmness, and another interruption. When it was finished, Stephen sat at the head of the bed and I cuddled against him for a while, having quiet and gentle conversation about how well I took my thrashing. I felt proud of myself. Instead of getting hung up on something I hadn't done the way I'd like to, I just felt pleased with my endurance, my reaction and the whole experience  And I felt sore. I felt incredibly, incredibly sore. I almost didn't want to sit. My thighs felt swollen. I was bruised and welted. I was happy. Stephen is a really good friend, and a wonderful Top. 

During the post-scene cuddling, we talked about various things, including why getting hit on my thighs was so important to me. I think everyone who reads this has heard it a million times: I like getting hit on my thighs because I hate it. It challenges me. It pushes me. It's the first thing that ever really made me acknowledge my submission, and it continues to be effective at getting inside my head. "There are other things that I think could be like that for me, but that I'm too scared to even try," I told Stephen. He asked me what those things were. "Like hand tawsing. I've been hit on the hand with other things before, less serious things, and it's just far, far too painful. I can't endure it." I told him the story about how I somehow ended up on the other side of the room insisting that I was literally going to die the first time that Malignus had hit me on the hand, and he had a chuckle at that.

"If you ever want to try it, you should either ask Lucy to do it or Mr. Allen, since they're the best at hand tawsing," Stephen told me. 

"I know I'll eventually want to try it. I have a horrible morbid curiosity, but I'm just not there yet. Maybe in six months or so I will be. Right now, it's just far too scary." This was acceptable, and the conversation moved on to other things. Eventually, it was time for me to go and get changed, as the Vendor's Fair was that night. 

I took this photo when I got undressed to change in my room later. Sore girl!

This story will continue in the next post. Stay tuned! ♥

Derbyshire: Part 2

Before I go on to my next post, I want to address a few things. First of all, I have been pretty busy and frequently out of town, so apologize for the lapses in posting. I've been toying with the idea of putting my UK stories on hold and just writing about BBW, but I've decided to work harder at getting thru each bit the way that it happened. Also, I wrote this entire post while on the plane to New York, but I was unable to save it (since the plane was without Wifi) and ended up losing all my work, so I've been kind of pissed about that and avoiding rewriting. Still, time to move forward!

When I left off, we'd completed our first three videos of the day, and after lunch, we moved on to film a pair of short, straight-forward films on the infinity curve. In case you don't know what an infinity curve is, it's a big, white space with walls that curve in such a way that it looks like you're sort of floating in space and that it goes on forever. I'd actually never worked on a real one before (only a seamless backdrop) so that was kind of neat. The scenes that we shot were both school scenes, and they're very austere, so the background works wonderfully for them. The first scene was a school gym class style scene, which I loved the hell out of. Added to the list of things I didn't know before this trip: you're supposed to wear regular underwear beneath the navy blue gym knickers. This was not what I would have expected, but it was cool with me. Anything that involves more underwear works for me! The panties that I wore underneath were vintage and very delicate. I'd never seen anything like them before, but I liked them right away.

It's hard to see the pattern, but it's pretty :P

Like I said, the scene was very straight-forward. There wasn't really much of any story: just me getting strapped in a very austere setting. This is something that I don't do a lot of in the films that I tend to do in the US: things that are very to-the-point, and that point is me getting whacked. This stripped down nature, plus the fact that the scenes were shot in a dreamy, blank background made it feel like we'd simply stepped into one of my fantasies and I hadn't bothered to make up the rest of the details, so they were left out.
It was awesome.

The next scene that we did was very similar: it was the same setting and same sort of situation, but this time, it was a school scene. While all the school girl stuff is a big fantasy for me, the English version of things has always held a very strong appeal. I got to wear a tie (which I've never gotten to do in an American school film) and I liked that quite a bit:

This is a photo of me being pleased about my tie. 

The scene itself included me being bent over one of the desks from the school set and getting caned and precious little else, and it felt so potent because of that. One of the resulting images from it has become one of my favorite "Alex getting spanked" photos of all time:

It's very much a photographic representation of that part of my kink. This was also the first time I had ever been caned in England: the first time I visited I was spanked plenty of times and hit with various objects, but I never got the cane. This event pleased me quite a bit: it just seems like something "right" to go to England and get beaten with a cane, like that's something that every spanko bottom should get to do at least once in their lives. I'm also pleased that Paul was the person who gave me my first caning in England, as he's gone on to become someone very special to me. Fortuitous how that worked out. :)

Once we finished that video, we then went on to shoot photosets, which is one of my favorite things to do. When I was just a consumer of spanking pornography, still photographs were the main thing that I was interested in. They feel artistic and creative, as well as open-ended in a way that lets the mind wander in delightful directions. Because I started out my modeling career simply being photographed, it's also something that I feel more confident doing. We shot several sets, all on the infinity curve, because it was just that cool.

In one set, I got to wear an actual English nurse uniform (although I'm not sure if it's modern or not? I'm somewhat confused on that). It's super different from anything that I've ever seen in the U.S. Usually nurses just wear scrubs around here, and there's nothing attractive about scrubs, at least to me. This involved leggings, though, and they were tight enough that you could see my underwear through them, which makes for a win in my book.

Thank you for spanking me, Mr. Osborne!

In another set, there was more caning, of course, because one can never have enough of that! Zoe had to help me with the "suspender belt" (garter belt) since I'd never really worn one before, but I discovered that I'm actually quite fond of them. Less pulling up stockings, more having something to frame my ass and make it look even rounder!

The next photo comes from a set which was cute and sweet, and which I like a ton. Pink bow + snuggly spankings = happy, contended Alex. Here is a photo to prove it:

Whenever I see any one of these photos, I think "Oh! That one is my favorite!" until I get to the next one, which also becomes my favorite. 

The final set that we did at the end of the first day of filming involves me looking very young and sweet and Paul coming in to be all scary and terrifying. I kept insisting that he was a very bad man for beating such an innocent looking girl as myself. :P

Yeah, having the same problem, because this one is also my favorite.

Once we finished shooting and we got everything cleaned up and packed away for the day, we drove to a small grocery store to get some supplies (read: alcohol) for the evening. Zoe once again demonstrated her very impressive patience when I wanted to get some chocolate but didn't know what any of it was. She walked thru the entire candy aisle explaining things to me and helping me figure out what stuff I would like. She then bought me my first ever Easter Egg. Now, we obviously have Easter chocolate in the US, and we have a lot of candy that is shaped like eggs, but we don't have the exact same thing as they do in England. In England, Easter Eggs are big, foil wrapped chocolate eggs with something interesting inside them, and I guess they're sort of a tradition. Zoe and I got two, and some pink fizz (I think that the name of that is pretty self explanatory, right? Pink sparkling wine) and planned to have a picnic with them in our room later that night.

We then went to a restaurant near our hotel, where I had to take a very long time deliberating over what I wanted to eat again. I'd like to say that I got better at this as my time in England wore on, but I really didn't. Even once I knew what I liked to eat, I still had to think about it for far longer than I should have. Dinner was very enjoyable, though. It mostly involved Paul, John, Zoe, the cameraman and I chatting about all sorts of industry related topics, including a lot of the history of the various sites that film in England. We stayed there for a long time, and I felt relaxed and happy. At one point, Zoe and I went to the restroom (in a pair, as girls do) and when she turned on the sink to wash her hands, she sprayed water all over herself. She then attempted to dry the front of her jeans using a hand dryer. I took a photo of this, because this is the kind of stuff that I absolutely dig about Zoe. She's goofy and ridiculous and I simply cannot get enough of her.

After we finished at the restaurant, we walked over to a pub and had a few drinks. I will not say anything about anyone else (although John was pretty open on his blog about the fact that he his fair share to drink) but I was very responsible. It was also just a very nice time. I find going out for drinks in England to be more fun than it is in the US, but that may be because I live in South Dakota, where nothing is particularly exciting.

Once last call had been completed, we all wandered back to the hotel, where Zoe and I went on to eat chocolate and drink wine the pink fizz before falling asleep.

Morning came, of course, far earlier than I would have liked it to. Mornings are a real problem for me. I'm just not cut out for them. Sleeping until 1:00 makes me happiest. This is obviously by no means practical in any part of adult society, so I adapt and deal with it. But when Zoe's alarm went off to summon us to breakfast, we unanimously decided to text the guys and let them know that we were going to sleep in. Besides, I didn't want to see Breakfast Lady again, anyway.

Sleep vs. Getting Scolded. I wonder what wins?!

Eventually, we did get up and get ourselves put together, then we packed up the rest of our things. I had literally all of my luggage with me, so I had quite a few things to pack, since I have this tendency to kind of dig through my suitcase in search of something and end up throwing things everywhere (see also: my hotel room at every spanking party I've ever attended). When we did come downstairs, though, Breakfast Lady managed to give me a disapproving look. Apparently she had made some comments about my lack of breakfast consumption to John and Paul earlier. Her life must not be very exciting.

We then returned to the cold... I mean, to the studio, where we began my fourth consecutive day of shooting, this time for Triple A. The day began on the infinity curve again, with a sort of straight forward, introductory spanking.

Fun fact: that t-shirt is the one that I was wearing the very first time I got spanked, when I was eighteen. Nostalgia central!

It was a pretty nice spanking, and a good way to warm up for the day, so I was pretty pleased with it. When that was filmed, we moved on to start shooting some POV scenes for John's new site: POV Spanking. This stuff was a little bit more challenging to shoot, as it felt very unnatural to me. The idea of POV (point-of-view) is that it appears like the person watching the film is seeing what he would actually be seeing where he the one giving the spanking. This makes for a lot of non-traditional filming. I had to talk directly to the camera without hearing any lines back, and that just felt very awkward and difficult for me to time. I've been told that I did a pretty good job, though, so I hope that's the case. We shot a number of these scenes, experimenting with different positions and implements, as well as filming styles. I urge you all to go check out the clips if that's something that you're interested in. :)

It's getting late, so I'll continue this story in the next post.
I've covered an entire day! Winner! :P

The "Little Bitch" Saga

While the action of this story takes place in Vegas, it begins in a very different time and place.

It was one of those evenings where I was alone in my apartment in South Dakota and Malignus was working. Both my professional work and my chores were completed for the evening, so I was sitting on the computer chatting to people and using Fetlife.

Recently, my darling twinsie, ellee, had been to a party in New York where she had met and played with Richard Windsor. From the very onset of my experience on Fetlife, Richard had been one of my favorite people. I liked his sense of humor, his ability to start a good discussion and his attitude towards play. I had been aware of him and his blog for longer than I'd been active in the virtual community, and I was delighted by how lovely he seemed online. We had met for the first time during Shadowlane, but unfortunately  I was super overbooked at that party and didn't get to see half of the people that I wanted to. It also seemed to me that Rich was the kind of person who preferred pre-negotiated play over the "Hey, I'm here! Wanna spank me for the next ten minutes before I leave again?" sort of thing, which is really what most of my play at Shadowlane ended up being. After having our rather short meeting, though, my desire to actually get to scene with him had intensified, and listening to ellee talk about how amazing her experience had been brought this back to the front of my mind.

I wanted to engage, but more specifically, I wanted to show my interest in a bantery, fun, spank-flirty way. This is something that I'm not good at. My preference is to be a good girl, sometimes even doing so excessively to the point of being annoying to others around me. I know that in my regular home life, I'm never going to be intentionally bratty, but I also know that there's a time and an audience for it and that it can be incredibly entertaining. The idea of having fun first and then getting spanked later sounded rather perfect for me. So I decided to wait for a window of opportunity and then try my hand at it.

It just so happened that the night in question, The Spanking World: Good vs. Bad was having a field day, and I happily joined in, joking and bantering. A few days/weeks before that, Rich had started a topic in the group, but when no one replied for a while, he took it down. He explained this in a post elsewhere in the group: "No one responded for 43 minutes, so I figured no one was going to and deleted it." (this is paraphrased. I cannot find the actual post anymore). This lead to lots of teasing and hilarity  Later that evening, I posted a new set of self-taken photos:

I was pretty pleased with the photo set, but despite the fact that lots of people were active on Fetlife, I wasn't getting any comments. I then made the following post to the famous "Pet Peeves" thread:

And then there was...

To which I responded:

Rich then commented on my photo, and I waited for exactly 43 minutes before replying to his comment. I literally sat next to my computer with a timer and waited. I was on a roll, and I was quite sure that everyone thought I was hilarious.

Really, it should have stopped there, but I was drunk with the glory of my new-found ability to draw spankings to myself in a hilarious manner, so I kept referring to the 43 minute rule and calling Richard a little bitch whenever I got the chance, and it probably got legitimately annoying. This was something that I originally really didn't want: I just wanted it to be funny and then for me to get beaten over it, and there were signs that I was actually becoming irritating (maybe even offensive?) later on, so I decided to lay low until the Vegas party, which I successfully did. My biggest fear in this whole out of character, behavior experiment was that I would actually hurt someone's feelings, create a nuisance or make someone think less of me, and I did worry that I had pushed things too far at the end.

Still, whenever anyone asked me about the story, I was happy to tell the entire thing, and I was quite pleased with myself. Rich had made it quite clear to me what the consequences for my actions were to be by sending me a series of voice recordings that were specifically designed to make my heart pound and my stomach flutter, I think. I was going to get 12 strokes of the cane, and after each stroke, I would need to repeat my most inappropriate phrase before the next. I let myself get enjoyably worked up over this. The anticipation built and built, and when we arrived at the party, Richard told me that I would be getting my caning on Sunday so that I got the maximum time to wait and think about things.

I ended up having to discuss practical concerns, which are my least favorite things when dealing with spanking play. I want to be able to just do whatever the fuck that I want, whenever I want. That's the way the world works, right? Unfortunately, this is not always the case. I was leaving from Vegas to go to England and would be filming in just a few days after arriving, so I couldn't leave the party all beaten and battered looking. This was also a concern in my play with YS: I had to ask him not to mark me during our last scene together, even though I really wanted him to. I wanted YS to spank me super hard and long and to leave me feeling sore and looking bruised so that I would continue to be enveloped in the safety and love of the time that we'd spent together. As it was, I wasn't able to get that, exactly, although all of our play together over the weekend left me with very positive memories, and the combination of everyone's efforts meant that I was very sore while flying to England. Anyway, I was worried that I would be in bad condition by Sunday and would not be able to be caned, and on Saturday night I was feeling a bit tired and emotionally stretched thin and I wasn't going to be able to put my heart into the scene if we did it then. Richard and I talked about all this, and we decided that I would be fine to get caned on Sunday before I had to leave. I set aside more time than we would probably actually need for it, just in case, and to avoid rushing. I think because of my temporary anti-marking agenda I may not have been caned as hard as I possibly could have, but because this was our first real scene together, I was somewhat alright with that.

On Sunday morning I took my time getting up and getting dressed and then spent some final private time focusing on my D/s dynamic with YS. Then it was time to go to "Strick"Dave's spanking court. When we left our room to talk down to the main suite, YS held his hand out for me to take and ended up feeling like I was in middle school or something. It was the sweetest gesture, and it made me feel a giddy, girly feeling inside. When we got to court, it had already started so we sort of snuck into the back. Court is always hilarious, and I have huge respect for (and probably a bit of a spanko-crush on) Dave: he seems to be knowledgable about everything, always quick to respond, makes me laugh lots and has just flat out impressive spanking skills. I was involved in one court case: in which Whooperine charged me with making fun of him for eating chicken wings with a fork. I did not even bother trying to defend myself against this, because several people had seen me say this, so I just argued that what I said wasn't so much mockery as it was fact. I may have been found guilty and gotten ten strokes, but I think that I sufficiently was able to make court a venue for further Whooperine-teasing, which meant that everything was right with the world. Throughout all these proceedings, though, I had a funny feeling in my tummy. Richard had handed me a note when I first came in that instructed me to go to my room after court and stand in the corner and wait for him. He was dressed sharply and had a very serious look on his face all the way through the court proceedings. His unbudging nature made me get even more worked up over what was about to happen. I had the classic mixture of terror and excitement. It was an excellent state of being.

As soon as I finished my case, I told Richard that I was going to my room then, in the interest of time (or maybe he told me to? I don't remember this part too well). What I do remember well is the walk down the hallway towards my suite. I had just walked this path with YS less than hour ago, practically skipping gleefully and then, it had seemed extremely short. Now, it stretched on and on in front of me. It was dizzyingly long! I found myself pausing to wipe my hands off on my skirt, because they were sweating. "How big is this hotel?" I wondered to myself. "I feel like I've been walking for an hour."

I finally arrived in the room and I propped the door open so that Richard would be able to enter when he came in. I then went pretty directly into the corner and began to wait. I could hear my blood rushing around inside my ears and hear my heart beating. I was very detached from my regular self and simply existing in this moment. My world was a world where I'd been a badly behaved girl and I was going to be soundly, severely punished for it. Thump, Thump, Thump went my heart.

Finally, Richard appeared and called me out of the corner. I'm sure my face must have been pretty pathetic: I was literally quivering. His manner in addressing me was stern and unbending and it made all my other feelings even more intense. I didn't protest against anything, just quietly submitted to getting into position for the cane. When he tested it in the air, I gasped at just the sound. From the time that the caning began until maybe ten minutes afterwards, I was in a liminal space on the verge of crying. Richard had said that he expected that I may cry, so I knew that was acceptable. For whatever reason, though, I never actually did: I think that I had too much nervous energy, too much anticipation and adrenaline to actually get to tears. Besides, I don't think that I've ever cried the first time that someone gave me a serious spanking (with the exception of my very first spanking). I think it's sort of an usual space for me, and my brain doesn't know which part of the mixed set of emotions to respond to.

Richard had positioned me over a barstool, in basically the same position that YS had used, but while yesterday's spanking had felt warm and close, this one felt austere and formal. It pushed a whole different (and much rarer to be pushed) set of buttons for. I was given a piece of paper which read "MR. WINDSOR IS NOT A LITTLE BITCH" which I was to recite after each stroke (this paper is currently tucked in my wallet behind my credit cards, which I suppose could prove awkward at some point, but I don't want to lose it). The first stroke made me gasp and whimper. I had trouble getting my voice in order to speak to read the sentence. I think I may have actually moved my mouth without any sound coming out, like trying to bring myself to wake someone sleeping in a dark room when my mind believes that it is necessary to be entirely quiet.

"Mr. Windsor is not a little bitch," I managed. The cane landed again, in a hot, stinging stroke. Again, I repeated the sentence. On the third stroke, I had a moment of fear when I realized that I was only a quarter of the way done with the caning. Just like the hallway had before, twelve strokes seemed impossibly long. The scene had gotten into some deep part of my brain and had twisted my senses of time and distance. It felt like a very long time before the next stroke.
Sometimes, I would rush the sentence out quickly. Others, I would whimper and wail a bit, catch my breath, move my feet and then whisper. At one point, I apologized, but I was firmly reminded that it was not the time for that. When I finally read the sentence for the last time and received my final stroke, I felt like I had been in the scene for ages, when in reality, I can't imagine that it took more than ten minutes between the first and last stroke. Each one had been memorable, though: they cut, they bit, they slashed, they buzzed and itched and chewed at me. When it was done, I was suffering from "No bones syndrome" and sort of poured myself onto the couch in a snuggling position with Richard.

We talked a bit and I felt very relieved and relaxed. The whole thing had been such an intense and powerful situation that it took me a little bit to sort of "come to" from it, but when I did, I was very happy with the whole experience. We hugged and everything was forgiven.

I feel very certain that I will never call Richard a little bitch ever, ever again. ♥