Spanking For Really Serious Offenses

Everyone in the spanking scene knows that there are standard scenarios which get played out in role play all the time. To name a few: the truant schoolgirl, the office worker who is lazy, wasteful and doesn't dress professionally, the lady unlucky enough to be caught shoplifting, and the haughty heiress being brought a few rungs by the hired help. All of this should be considered good, clean fun when it doesn't involve real life actions. Sometimes, a good role play can spice up a regular spanking scene, especially once both participants get over their self-consciousness. However, real life is and should be considered another matter.

Now I don't want my blog to turn into a constant rant about things I'm seeing on Fetlife. I promised from Day One that I would keep the sentiments expressed herein light and upbeat but above all, positive (hence, the name). But I have seen a couple of posts that have alarmed me to the point where I can't really hold my piece. Both have to do with driving---really bad driving. One gentleman posted that he was looking for "real" implements to punish his girl with because she got caught doing over twenty miles over the speed limit. The other concerned a domme who owes her "hubby" a punishment spanking for drunk driving. Another lady answered the latter thread saying that her dom was punishing her for failing to come to a complete stop at a red light or stop sign (she didn't say which it was). Let's back up here and look at these examples. First of all, getting caught doing 20 m.p.h over the speed limit is an extremely stupid thing to do. What's so important and what's the rush? If you're late for work, get up earlier. There's no need to endanger the lives of innocent people because you're afraid to get yelled at by your boss for being late. Speeding that way for something frivolous such as going shopping, tanning or to get your hair and/or nails done is absolutely unconscionable. I was on the highway the other day behind a lady with a Starbuck's cup sitting precariously on top of her car (a gold BMW). Cigi and I were nervous the whole time and were thankful when she finally turned (without giving us the benefit of a turn signal..those bothersome things). I half expected to see that cup come flying towards our windshield, but thank God, it never happened. The guy who's domme wife owes him a spanking for drunk driving...what can I say about this? I responded to her by telling her she should take away his license before he kills someone. A spanking for putting the lives of every person on the road with him in danger? You cannot be serious, lady. Both this guy and the lady who got a ticket for rolling through a red light should both have to go to a morgue and look at the remains of people who died because someone was either speeding, drunk or thought that those pesky red lights are for other people. Perhaps I'm just too much of a realist for the scene. Everyone else offered up cute and funny punishment scenarios. All I could think about was my friend, Michelle, who died on December 31, 1973 while being driven home by the man she had been babysitting for. He and his wife had no doubt been to a New Year's Eve party and were probably plastered. The drunk survived. My 13-year-old friend didn't. It was my birthday and I will never forget how I was affected by her death. She blond, blue eyed and pretty; all the things I wish I had been at that awkward age. All I could remember of her funeral was that it was closed casket because her beautiful face had been pulverised by the windshield and there had been no way to fix it.

So when I see people who suggest a spanking for very serious offenses, I think it's pretty obvious that they have never had something tragic like this happen in their own lives. Or they're so insensitive or so immersed in the fantasy that reality never gets a chance to penetrate their brains. To my way of thinking, spanking is too good for them, even a very unpleasant one. Maybe some jail time would help them remember to use their heads in the future and to remember that we all share the road.

Sorry this one was pretty serious tonight. I have had this on my mind for a few days now. But never fear. A CM party is approaching so I expect the Fun Factor to increase significantly.

Am I Vanilla?

I have been on Fetlife for seven or eight months now. For those of you who don't know what Fetlife is, it's a place for kinsters to start groups and post their thoughts. It's run totally by kinky people, too, so there's no need to worry about your group or your photos being deleted because of "adult content". Now everyone who knows me knows that I'm a pure spanko. I don't do discipline or punishment spankings, I don't have a dom nor am I accountable to a disciplinarian. It seems to me that I'm really very much different from the other women on Fetlife--or at least most of them. Most of them go on and on about how their dom cherishes them (even though he's a sadistic S.O.B) and about how their "daddy" treats them like a little princess (between bouts of oral sex apparently). I can't relate to any of this. I can't relate to giving another human being control over aspects of my life that have always been my domain. I can't relate, as a 48-year-old woman, to having someone think I still need spankings to keep me in line. And I certainly can't relate to someone thinking I'm going to call him daddy or uncle when they aren't related to me. Honestly, it boggles my mind to think of some of the things I've seen posted there. And don't get me started on the photos. Yahoo would go into a frenzy of deletions if they ever got a peek at some of the photos on there. Many, that I can't even bear to look at, are referred to as art. OK, my idea of art may be different from some people's. Apparently, a picture of a woman tied from head to toe with red rope is right up there with Michelangelo's Pieta. I'm sorry, but the picture of the woman bound with red rope (lovely as it is) doesn't move me in quite the same way as the Pieta does. Ditto for pictures of men having their privates tortured.

So having said all this, I really have to ask myself: Am I vanilla? Because I get spanked only because I like it and it's fun, does that mean that I'm doing it wrong? Because I don't need a dom to order me around and make all of my decisions for me, do I not qualify as kinky? Or because I don't need to be held accountable to a man who's just as human as I am and therefore just as flawed? Or because every spanking I engage in doesn't end in sex, am I not really a spanko? I really have no idea what the answers to these questions are. And, until very recently, they weren't even a major concern of mine. But it seems like almost every time I post a response to a thread, I'm the only one who seems to have her head in the real world. Everyone else seems to have on the heavy duty rose colored glasses. And I'm beginning to think more and more that people resent my responses. In the middle of all that fantasy, there's my little post about being safe and making sure the person spanking you knows what he's doing. And what happens? I'm either ignored--glossed over until the reader comes to a post full of more fantasy junk--or I'm derided for daring to suggest a dom may not know what he's doing. I admit I'm not much of a romantic. Just too darn practical I guess. But it sure seems to me that the women in the scene lose their heads way too easily over men who call themselves a dom or master. I mean, all a guy has to do is post a picture of himself in a black vest carrying a flogger and they all just melt. Am I the only one who shrugs and says "Whatever blows your hair back"?
In the end, I have to be true to myself. But it sure makes me wonder.

I Enjoy Being A Girl

I freely admit it. I love everything about being female. When I was a little girl, I played in my mother's make up and jewelry and also her clothes. My mother was a real lady. She dressed the way young women of her generation usually dressed--in gloves and hats whenever she ventured out. She wore make up sparingly (powder and lipstick mostly) because only "certain" kinds of women painted their faces. Old photos of her and my dad together make me think they were the perfect 50's couple. She was petite, slender and busty; just the way men liked them in those days. My father was handsome (though not dashing) and rugged. He used Brylcream in his hair, but then who didn't in those days? They were a gorgeous couple. My mother loved being a woman and she made sure my two sisters and I saw that there was nothing wrong with being female. There was no reason in her mind why a girl shouldn't dream every bit as big as a boy. She was hard working and ambitious for her children. But she was also patient and had the kindest heart of anyone I ever knew. She taught us girls to learn to do for ourselves. She saw that times were changing and that there might not always be a man around to fix the plumbing or change the tire.

Fast forward to now. My mother died the day after Valentine's Day, 1993 at the age of only 58. But I think I owe a lot of what I am today to her. She taught me that femininity was anything but a curse (that nasty monthly thing aside). I played sports in my youth but made sure that I always behaved like the lady my mother raised me to be. I didn't use bad language (my grandmother said it was "common"). I respected my coaches and others who were in authority over me. My mother raised a very good daughter. Because of her, I love all the trappings of being a woman--shoes, make up, jewelry, body spray, hair clips, pretty panties, etc. Now that doesn't mean that I go for some of the ultra-feminine things I have seen since I got into the scene. I don't go for stockings and garter belts. Nor do I like overly lacy things. Too delicate for my sensibilities. However, I do love going to spanking parties and packing some nice panties for the weekend. And I absolutely love smelling good. I will admit to being somewhat of an aroma junkie. A girl can never have too many things that make her smell good. My ex-roommate was driven to the brink of insanity by the sheer number of bottles of shampoo and body wash that took up room in our tiny linen closet. And despite having short hair, I have a box full of hair clips which Cigi refers to as "girly clips". When I had long hair I always had something in it, whether it was a barrette or a ponytail holder. I found the habit hard to break when I cut my hair short. I wear a clip with crystals in it so that I don't have to wear jewelry if I want some sparkle. A friend that I used to work with called me the girliest girl she knew simply because I had a tube of lip gloss attached to my key chain (I worked in an office then and needed a key). I assured her it was simply for practicality's sake. The air was dry and my lips would crack if I didn't keep them moisturized. And anyway, who is SHE calling girly? She kept a lavender eyelash curler in her locker.

Anyway, the point I'm really trying to make with all this meandering is that being in the scene has made appreciate my femininity all the more. Yes, sometimes it's a drag to have to shave and pluck and tweaze. And yes, there are times I wish I wasn't a slave to hair color. But you know what? I really wouldn't have it any other way.

Majorly Bummed

Usually, about this time, my blog is all sweetness and light; filled me with me talking about attending whatever Crimson Moon party is upcoming. Unfortunately, I'm majorly bummed because next weeks CM party will have to go on without Cigi and I in attendance.
We had every intention of going, mind you. We haven't missed a party since July, 2006 (back when Cigi was still bald from chemo and not feeling very spankable). We were able to attend the October, 2006 party. As fate would have it, my St. Louis Cardinals won the World Series the first night of the party and Cigi happily walked the streets of Chicago with her Cardinal jacket on. Ah...sweet memories.
We survived upheavals that included three or four hotel changes and changes in leadership. We have survived having friends we cared about leaving the group or leaving the scene. We have survived death and illness, too. We love this group like family because of our shared bonds and this is why it hurts so much to miss that time with our CM friends. Not to mention all the good spanking I was planning on getting. I feel badly for the people who were planning on seeing us.
I guess I'm just going to have to find a way to make myself feel better. Maybe I will look up a spanking friend and see if maybe we can have a little party right in my apartment. Of course, it won't be the same, but it will be better than sitting around all weekend watching "House" reruns.
So Dr. Ken, say hi to everyone for us and tell them the twins will be there with bells on in July. In the meantime, I will be eating chocolate and doing other things to make up for how gypped I feel. Maybe I will go on a totally unnecessary shopping spree and load up on new spring clothes and panties. That sounds cool, but, as I have stated on this blog before, shopping isn't really a substitute for spanking in my mind. Nothing is.
OK, scratch the shopping spree. That won't cut it. Oh well...I'm sure if given enough time, I can come up with something.
So to everyone reading this who is heading for the party next week, safe travels and hey, keep me on your dance card for July, OK?

Hi, My Name Is Cheryl And I'm a Spankoholic

It never fails.

I had a rather interesting conversation with a friend at work tonight. Something happened and spanking was mentioned. I think someone read something in the paper about a young kid going on a joyride and damaging her father's car. One of the older gentlemen I work with stated flatly that, if that had been HIS daughter, she would have been unable to sit down for an extended period of time because she would get some serious time with his belt. Now me being the spanko that I am, this comment intrigued me. Not that belts are my favorite thing, but any mention of corporal punishment perks me in a big way. I said something like "Lucky girl" or something to that effect. I thought no one had heard me, but another person I worked with, someone I considered a friend, looked at me as if I had just sprouted horns. But she waited until the break room was cleared before she said anything else. Now, this woman had been mine and Cigi's room mate for a year and she knew exactly what we were into. She warned me to be careful, that with the economy the way it is, they were looking for any excuse to fire people. I told her that I was discreet and that she needn't worry about me. Then she said something that was surprising, coming from her. She told me there were self-help groups for people with sex addiction. I told her I wasn't a sex addict. She then went on the explain to me that my fascination with spanking wasn't normal and that I should do everything I can to get out of the lifestyle before "something bad happens". This woman has slept with countless men just in the two years I've known her. Her mother calls her promiscuous and a hussy. I told her my spanking fetish was none of her business. How could she lecture ME? My little spanking thing doesn't even involve sex so how could I be sex addicted? And why is it that every time someone discovers that a friend or relative is into kink, they take it upon themselves to tell them how awful it is and then proceed to tell them all the ways they can be rehabilitated? That's why I said it never fails. Who says I want to be rehabilitated and live a spankless life? I did that for 42 years and have no intention of ever doing it again.
What makes people so smug and superior anyway? What gives them the right to judge how another person chooses to live their life? I have never harmed a living soul in all my life. I have the right to the pursuit of happiness and this is how I pursue it.
When this woman discovered my kink (by getting on my computer without asking me) I went to great pains to explain the lifestyle from my standpoint as fully as I could. I explained that safe, sane and consensual are the standards we live by. I explained safewords and safecalls to her. I even let her watch one of my spanking videos. I thought I did all I could to dispel the idea that kinky people are different than "normal" people. I told her that anyone she knew could be kinky and she wouldn't know it. She lived with us for almost a year before she found out about us. We hid it so well that she never suspected a thing. Her attitude tonight hurt me somewhat. I think, at first, she thought it was kind of cool. But now, in light of the fact that Cigi and I are pushing 50, she thinks it's sick. Like only young women in their 20's should be getting spanked. So how do you respond to a person who thinks there should be an age limit when it comes to practicing kink? I tried to educate her, but because she's so much younger than me, I think she might suffer from the delusion that most young people suffer from--that once you hit a certain age, you should cease to be a sexual being. Not that spanking is sexual for me, but I do consider it a part of my sexuality. If I was 25 and she discovered I was kinky, she might think it was OK. But because I'm 48 years old, I should knock it off. I have news for her. I'm not a sex addict, I'm a spanking addict and I intend to stay one until I'm too old to risk playing. So don't expect to see me on "Intervention" anytime soon.
I think as long as my interest in spanking doesn't interfere with my job or my family, and doesn't bankrupt me or make me have a personality change, I will just stick with it, thank you. It's a lot healthier than many addictions I could name.
PS: I'm still looking for that elusive "Man From U.N.C.L.E." still. I have searched Google until my vision is blurry and no luck. Looks like I will just have to break down and buy the whole series on DVD. I want to thank anyone who may have read this and searched for it, with the same luck I had. Thanks, guys :)

Help! Looking For A Still!

You know, having been interested in spanking (the M/f variety at least) as long as I can remember, I would've thought I'd seen every spanking still ever produced from a movie or TV show. But, alas, it appears I've missed one. What makes this whole thing frustrating and, I'll admit, somewhat embarrassing is the fact that this still is from a favorite show of mine. Because I had an older sister who was in love with these guys, she was glued to the TV every Tuesday and then later when it moved to Fridays. It ran from 1964 to 1968 and starred two very attractive men as spies for an international peace-keeping organization. Give up? Here's a hint:

These guys were the coolest thing on TV in those days. There was Robert Vaughn as the suave, deboinare Nepoleon Solo and David McCallum as the cool, calm Russian Illya Kuryakin. Now, of course, some of the plots were silly and contrived. And we were asked to believe that a Scottish actor could play a Russian secret agent believably. But they had the neatest gadgets and let's face it there's just something about the way men dressed in those days. The whole package was just cool with a capital C.

Now the reason I'm going on about The Man From U.N.C.L.E. is because there was a near spanking on that show that I just discovered recently. I admit to being a fan of the show and have seen it in syndication on several channels over the years. But I haven't seen every single episode. The episode in question was the third season opener and was called "The Her Master's Voice Affair". Yes, for those of you who remember, the word "affair" was in the title of every episode. Probably because the word is faintly British and in the mid-'60's anything British was bound to sell. I won't trouble you too much with the plot but it involves our heroes going to a girl's school on Long Island (or was it Rhode Island? I forget...) where young people are being trained to get important information from their scientist parents and pass them on to the Bad Guys. Illya is given the assignment of acting as body guard and tutor to a rather difficult young lady. The stuff of fantasy, right? Well, since I haven't seen the episode, I can't say what precedes the aborted spanking on this show. I'm told Illya has the young lady over his knee and is about to put palm to bottom when his communicator goes off. Now this was a plot contrivance that was commonly used when someone needed to be saved by the bell. And by all accounts, she needed saving badly.

I'm looking for a clip or still from this episode. Gwen, if you read this, maybe you can put your mavening powers to work and find it for me. I would be eternally grateful. It just galls me that there's something out there from a TV show (and one of my all-time favorites) that I haven't seen. At least, I don't remember seeing it. After all, I was five years old at the time. If anyone can dig this up for me, please let me know by leaving a comment here. Thanks!

Ch..Ch..Ch..Changes

You might be wondering why I opened my post today with not one, but two pictures of David Bowie. Well, most of you know me. Sometimes I like to say things in a roundabout way. I'm using photos of the man who inspired today's title to illustrate a point, which I will now get to. The two pictures of the aforementioned Mr. Bowie were taken six years apart; the left one in 1977, the other in 1983. By a mere coincidence, I have been in the spanking scene for six years--the exact length of time that seperates these two pictures of David Bowie (real name: David Jones). Bowie was (and probably still is) a chameleon; famous as much for his ability to change his appearance seemingly at will as for his musical ability.

I have friends who swear I haven't changed a bit over the years. At work, I sometimes see people who I haven't seen since high school. Despite the fact that I graduated 30 years ago, they all swear they knew it was me as soon as they saw me. This got me to thinking. How much have I changed over the years? And, more importantly, how much have I changed in the six years I have been involved in the spanking scene? Let's find out:

The picture on the left was taken in 2003, my first year in the scene. The one on the right (which I also use as my profile picture) is much more recent. Despite the obvious changes (like the length and color of my hair) there have been a few subtle ones, too; the kind that don't show up in a photograph. For one thing, when I first started, I was naive to put it mildly. Like most of the women (and a lot of the men) in the scene, I have appearance issues that made me feel rather self-conscious. In the vanilla world, most men ignored me. When I joined the spanking scene, I discovered that for some men, I was considered attractive. This came as a shock. I never thought of myself as pretty before. I always considered myself a "handsome" woman, to use the parlance of my father's time. "Handome" meant not beautiful but not ugly either. A feeling of gratitude crept into my thinking. If I wasn't in the scene, would these men even bother to give me a second look? This led me to the second change I noticed in myself; something that nothing else had been able to hammer home: I am fine the way I am.

It's funny to think how much I have changed in six years; not just physically, but emotionally as well. I was afraid six years ago of being psychologically damaged in some way. Now I know that that isn't likely to happen. I'm a much more confident person because of my involvement in the spanking scene. This is also something that I tried many ways to change about myself. I wanted to be confident and upbeat, but I knew as long as I lacked the courage to acknowledge that side of myself it was never going to happen. So does confidence show outwardly? Can you see the difference in my confidence level between the two pictures of me? Or is it an illusion? Judge for yourself. Get a picture of yourself before you entered the scene and one after and see if there isn't a real difference. Not just the differences that happen because of the changes the years make in your appearance, but look at yourself beyond the merely physical and see if there aren't other changes that can be read. You might be surprised.

"Time may change me but I can't trace time".

---"Changes" by David Bowie