It was just supposed to be a quiet Saturday night. Cigi got home from work around 4:00. We made plans to reheat some leftovers and watch the Cardinal game. A ringing of our telephone about a half hour later changed those plans.
The call was from one of our favorite Tops; a man we've known since our earliest days in the scene. As Cigi spoke with him, I was barely paying attention. But one phrase caught my attention--"Are you on your way here?" I perked up immediately as chances to play between parties have become scarce lately. I was delighted to learn that the answer to that particular question was a resounding "Yes!". But I was also thrown into chaotic pandemonium. I had been in drowsy, late afternoon mode, but realizing that a visitor was coming snapped me out of it. Cigi asked how far away he was and was relieved to hear that he wouldn't arrive for two more hours. Now, let me stress right here that this particular Top doesn't really care about appearances. He wasn't going to inspect the apartment to make sure we had taken the garbage out and run the dishwasher. He wouldn't care if we were bathed, shaved and had make-up on. Another Top we adore calls this practice "getting girlified" (sorry, Devlin, if that's not a real word, but he's from Texas so what can you expect? lol). He wasn't going to fold his arms in Toppish disapproval if the carpet wasn't vacuumed or the furniture dusted. But we took care of all those things because we were raised to do them. We were taught that if a visitor comes (no matter how unexpected) you're supposed to make your home clean and welcoming. This Top wouldn't care about any of it. He just wanted to see us and, after dinner, spank us. We will see him at the Crimson Moon party so it's not like he didn't know when he would see us again. But I wanted a spanking really bad.
We got the apartment and ourselves cleaned up just in time to go downstairs and meet him. He'd had surgery on his spanking shoulder in spring (I'm sure Dr. Ken now knows exactly who I'm talking about) and I was eager to see if he could still bring it. But that would have to wait until after dinner. He took us to our favorite Chinese buffet. I could eat Chinese food everyday and twice on Sunday. To me, nothing is better than gobbling down a steaming plate of General Tso's, along with crab rangoon and spicy dumplings and then going home to get spanked. Well, except for maybe chocolate before spanking. But I digress. The meal was wonderful as always and this Top had some fun with our waitress, a very small Chinese girl whose command of English was negligible. If I had done the things he did, he would've called it bratting. But, hey, I learned a long time ago that Tops can get away with just about anything.
Anyway, we drove home and he spanked me first. Usually, Cigi goes first, but she relinquished her cherished spot in the order for me. I should tell you that this particular Top is just about the only one who is big enough to really make me feel like a kid over his knee (now I know Ken knows who I'm talking about). And he has hands like hammers. He spanks nice..nice and hard just the way I like it. However, I was a little disappointed in my tolerance. With a three-day party coming up, I'm worried about how much spanking I'll be able to take. After a nice warm up (where Cigi was happy to take a picture of my red bottom) it was Cigi's turn. Now, you have to know how much I love watching her get spanked. Her reactions are priceless. I took a few pictures of her, too. We had the Cardinal game on and I noticed that, while we were getting spanked, my Cardinals banged out four hits and three runs. But when we took a break, those Mets tied the score. I told this Top to hurry up and spank me some more. The game ended up going 14 innings and we won with a homer! I think getting spanked on game days is good luck. I would happily volunteer to get spanked everyday during the season if it will help my Cardinals win the pennant. But he's a White Sox fan. I think his team won, too (how's that for mixing spanking and baseball, my two favorite pasttimes?).
We talked, of course, about the scene, about Cigi's illness, about the upcoming party and about some of the characters we've met on the journey. This Top is somewhat pensive and so the conversation dragged on. Of course, about that time, someone (not saying who) did something bratty and another round of spankings ensued. Let's just say I'm glad I stand up at work.
At around 10:00 he had to get going. The time was way too short, but I had a nice sore, red butt and a great meal in my stomach. And then there was his parting promise....
"See ya' Thursday!"
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Party Planning
Well, here it is, mid-July. That means the big three-day Crimson Moon party is only two weeks away. Having known since the last CM July party that we would be attending this year, why does it feel like Cigi and I have waited until the last minute to get things together? Oh, I don't mean we've waited until the last minute to pay our party fee (we did that two months ago) or book our hotel room (that's already taken care of, too). I'm talking about trying to figure out what to take and what to leave behind. Now I know that before the last party I posted an entry where I described the things I cannot possibly be without at a party. I'm talking about non-necessary items. Three of us (me, Cigi and Purple Angel) will be travelling together so there are the logistics of trying to figure out how three women are going to fit their luggage into the economy car we're renting for the trip up. Since there are two of us (me and Cigi) we will have two bags plus a toy bag. We have been doing this for over five years and have not been able to pare down the essentials that a woman must have to make it through a four-day trip. Cigi and I are planning on bringing our canes this time, too so room will need to be made for them. But because of the outrageous gas prices in our area, we couldn't rent the big boat we wanted LOL. We were forced to rent a small car that gets good highway gas mileage. Cigi and I have always done our best to economize at these parties. Like for instance, instead of going out to eat for every meal, we have always brought Lean Cuisine meals from home and heated them up in our room. Sharing a hotel room helps keep the cost down, too.
What I'm really stressing about is what to wear. Since I'm not the youngest lady in the group, I tossed out the notion of dressing in sexy clothes and went for cute and spankable. After all, what spanking girl doesn't take being called spankable as a compliment? Summer used to be a time when I worked on my tan religiously (even on my bottom) and went to the parties with wonderful color. I looked good in just about everything back then (or so I thought). Now I really can't sunbathe the way I used to because I don't have the privacy required to get my buns nice and tan. And I will not go to a tanning salon. Why pay huge amounts of money to lay in a tanning bed when the sun is free? So now I'm white as a sheet and I just don't think summer clothes look the same on me. So I'm stressing. And zero hour approaches. You would think having five years' worth of experience, I would get better at this. But it happens before almost every party. And it looks like my work schedule is going to make it hard to get those last minute things done. Hopefully, I won't have to work late the night before we leave. By late I mean 11:30 PM. I've always secretly envied people who can just toss stuff into a suitcase and say "let's go!" I'm a Capricorn and so being practical and a careful planner is sort of hard wired into my thought process. Although I envy those sorts, I just can't bring myself to toss stuff into a suitcase and say "let's go!" Not ever going to happen, folks. I try to prepare for whatever can possibly happen at these parties. I've been stuck a long way from the hotel front door in a downpour without an umbrella, so even if there's not a cloud in the sky, my umbrella now makes the trip. And, since my favorite soda is never included when the Crimson Crew gets the drinks together, a 12-pack of Mountain Dew also makes the trip. Back in March, when I thought Cigi and I had overdone it, one of the ladies we were sharing a room with said 'There's two of you and that's all you brought?' With that comment, she indicated that we had packed lightly for a weekend. And I thought we'd brought way too much. Of course, that was until I saw all of her stuff. She looked like she was running away from home.
So the question of what to bring and what to leave behind is weighing kind of heavily on me today. I've had four months to get ready for this party and, once again, a party day is going to dawn with me running around my apartment like a chicken with its head off. Ah well...I guess that's part of the fun.
What I'm really stressing about is what to wear. Since I'm not the youngest lady in the group, I tossed out the notion of dressing in sexy clothes and went for cute and spankable. After all, what spanking girl doesn't take being called spankable as a compliment? Summer used to be a time when I worked on my tan religiously (even on my bottom) and went to the parties with wonderful color. I looked good in just about everything back then (or so I thought). Now I really can't sunbathe the way I used to because I don't have the privacy required to get my buns nice and tan. And I will not go to a tanning salon. Why pay huge amounts of money to lay in a tanning bed when the sun is free? So now I'm white as a sheet and I just don't think summer clothes look the same on me. So I'm stressing. And zero hour approaches. You would think having five years' worth of experience, I would get better at this. But it happens before almost every party. And it looks like my work schedule is going to make it hard to get those last minute things done. Hopefully, I won't have to work late the night before we leave. By late I mean 11:30 PM. I've always secretly envied people who can just toss stuff into a suitcase and say "let's go!" I'm a Capricorn and so being practical and a careful planner is sort of hard wired into my thought process. Although I envy those sorts, I just can't bring myself to toss stuff into a suitcase and say "let's go!" Not ever going to happen, folks. I try to prepare for whatever can possibly happen at these parties. I've been stuck a long way from the hotel front door in a downpour without an umbrella, so even if there's not a cloud in the sky, my umbrella now makes the trip. And, since my favorite soda is never included when the Crimson Crew gets the drinks together, a 12-pack of Mountain Dew also makes the trip. Back in March, when I thought Cigi and I had overdone it, one of the ladies we were sharing a room with said 'There's two of you and that's all you brought?' With that comment, she indicated that we had packed lightly for a weekend. And I thought we'd brought way too much. Of course, that was until I saw all of her stuff. She looked like she was running away from home.
So the question of what to bring and what to leave behind is weighing kind of heavily on me today. I've had four months to get ready for this party and, once again, a party day is going to dawn with me running around my apartment like a chicken with its head off. Ah well...I guess that's part of the fun.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Personal Pet Peeves
When I first decided to create this blog and to call it Positively Spanking, I wanted to convey two thoughts with one handy phrase. First of all, I obviously wanted people who found it and decided to drop by to know that this was, indeed, a real blog by a real spanko. Secondly, I wanted the language of my blog to be positive. That is, show the scene and its inhabitants in a positive light just in case they were curious about joining us or had questions about what the average spanko is like. I didn't want to scare anyone off with the negativity that you sometimes see in other peoples' blogs.
Now, having said all that, I feel it only fair to warn you who are reading this that you'll encounter a small amount of negativity in this entry because it happens to deal with the things that rile me about the scene. These are just things I feel the need to get off my chest and aren't the result of any one thing that has happened to me.
I got active in the scene in early 2003, over five years ago. At that time, my experience was limited to videos and a few websites. I had no idea of the diversity of the scene at that time. I thought everyone I would meet would be a spanko like me. After I began attending parties and meeting different people, I discovered that I was wrong. There were people who were into things I'd never even heard of (and I wasn't some young babe in the woods, but a 42- year-old woman who had been around a while). It was then that I discovered my first scene pet peeve. At my very first party, I was asked if I wanted to try something I always said I would never try. When the gentleman made the offer, I gave him a polite "no thanks". This wasn't good enough for him. He wanted a reason. When I said 'Because I said no thank you' he called me uptight and said I was closed-minded. At the time, my feelings were hurt because I had been assured that no one would try to pressure me into anything. Today, I would tell that "gentleman" that I'm not closed-minded, I just know what I like and what I don't like. He has never asked me to play again.
My second pet peeve has to do with the attitudes of some Doms (and this includes a few Tops, too). It's the generalization that all women or men who get spanked are submissive. This couldn't be more false. I have had men who've spanked me that have tried to Dom me and I have repeatedly told them I'm not submissive. I don't respond well to being ordered around. They pooh-pooh this and say I'm just in denial. No, buddy, YOU are in denial. You want all women to be submissive to you and it just isn't going to happen. Get over it.
My third pet peeve centers on my fellow females in the scene. These are the ones who, even at a party, can't let themselves enjoy a good spanking session without feeling guilty about it. Talk about a downer. A few years ago, I was at a party and one lady (a submissive with a new Dom who couldn't attend with her) said she'd had such a good time with one Top that she felt the need to apologize to him for "liking it too much". Excuse me, but isn't that the point of the whole thing? When I asked her 'Why did you apologize for liking it?' she rolled her eyes and didn't say anything. Her response (or lack of it) told me all about her attitude towards non-submissive women. 'You're not a sub. You wouldn't understand'. Thank God! The day I have to apologize to someone because I enjoyed the spanking they gave me is the day I quit the scene altogether.
My next pet peeve is aimed squarely at Tops (and some Doms) who insist on speaking about spanking in purely punitive terms. Usually, on the Crimson Moon list, when a party is approaching, the bratting picks up. Brat do what they do best (brat) and Tops do what they do best (threaten said brat with a spanking). OK, I can live with being told I'm going to get spanked for my bratting. After all, it's just the reward for all of my hard work. But some guys just don't get it. They don't understand that this thing is supposed to be FUN. They post a message to the group telling me that I will find myself over his knee getting a spanking I'll never forget for such bratty behavior. I had one tell me I should consider staying home because what he had in store for me was too horrible to contemplate. I wrote him a private email telling him that, for me, spanking was fun and that I didn't go to the trouble of asking for time off from work, paying a party fee, paying for two (sometimes three) nights in a hotel and paying for the gas for a 200 mile trip just so I can get out of getting spanked. I told him I played a lot at parties and had no qualms about playing with him. He did watch me play with another Top and I guess he decided that I wasn't his type or something because he never asked me to play. Now I was a very hard player at that time and the Top I was playing with was whipping me with a strap made out of an old firehose. Perhaps my level of play (and my total enjoyment of our scene) turned him off? It didn't occure to me at the time that there were some Tops and Doms who didn't like it if you liked it too much. They would much rather fantasize that they're giving you something you hate (preferably against your will) than to listen to you laugh and see the smile on your face while you play.
As you can see, there are several things about being in the scene that just get under my skin and bug the heck out of me. Will any of them make me leave the scene in disgust? Probably not. I love getting spanked way too much. But I have learned to be tolerant of people who have a different attitude about the scene and its place in their lives than I do. We're all members of the same kinky family, after all. But, like a real family, even though we like each other, that doesn't mean that every now and then one doesn't do something that drives another member crazy. Most of my pet peeves don't bother me the way they used to. Some, which were major when I first discovered them, have been relegated to minor status. The fact is, all of us have pet peeves when it comes to some aspect of the scene. The trick is to keep them in their proper place and not let them interfere with your enjoyment of this thing we do.
Now, having said all that, I feel it only fair to warn you who are reading this that you'll encounter a small amount of negativity in this entry because it happens to deal with the things that rile me about the scene. These are just things I feel the need to get off my chest and aren't the result of any one thing that has happened to me.
I got active in the scene in early 2003, over five years ago. At that time, my experience was limited to videos and a few websites. I had no idea of the diversity of the scene at that time. I thought everyone I would meet would be a spanko like me. After I began attending parties and meeting different people, I discovered that I was wrong. There were people who were into things I'd never even heard of (and I wasn't some young babe in the woods, but a 42- year-old woman who had been around a while). It was then that I discovered my first scene pet peeve. At my very first party, I was asked if I wanted to try something I always said I would never try. When the gentleman made the offer, I gave him a polite "no thanks". This wasn't good enough for him. He wanted a reason. When I said 'Because I said no thank you' he called me uptight and said I was closed-minded. At the time, my feelings were hurt because I had been assured that no one would try to pressure me into anything. Today, I would tell that "gentleman" that I'm not closed-minded, I just know what I like and what I don't like. He has never asked me to play again.
My second pet peeve has to do with the attitudes of some Doms (and this includes a few Tops, too). It's the generalization that all women or men who get spanked are submissive. This couldn't be more false. I have had men who've spanked me that have tried to Dom me and I have repeatedly told them I'm not submissive. I don't respond well to being ordered around. They pooh-pooh this and say I'm just in denial. No, buddy, YOU are in denial. You want all women to be submissive to you and it just isn't going to happen. Get over it.
My third pet peeve centers on my fellow females in the scene. These are the ones who, even at a party, can't let themselves enjoy a good spanking session without feeling guilty about it. Talk about a downer. A few years ago, I was at a party and one lady (a submissive with a new Dom who couldn't attend with her) said she'd had such a good time with one Top that she felt the need to apologize to him for "liking it too much". Excuse me, but isn't that the point of the whole thing? When I asked her 'Why did you apologize for liking it?' she rolled her eyes and didn't say anything. Her response (or lack of it) told me all about her attitude towards non-submissive women. 'You're not a sub. You wouldn't understand'. Thank God! The day I have to apologize to someone because I enjoyed the spanking they gave me is the day I quit the scene altogether.
My next pet peeve is aimed squarely at Tops (and some Doms) who insist on speaking about spanking in purely punitive terms. Usually, on the Crimson Moon list, when a party is approaching, the bratting picks up. Brat do what they do best (brat) and Tops do what they do best (threaten said brat with a spanking). OK, I can live with being told I'm going to get spanked for my bratting. After all, it's just the reward for all of my hard work. But some guys just don't get it. They don't understand that this thing is supposed to be FUN. They post a message to the group telling me that I will find myself over his knee getting a spanking I'll never forget for such bratty behavior. I had one tell me I should consider staying home because what he had in store for me was too horrible to contemplate. I wrote him a private email telling him that, for me, spanking was fun and that I didn't go to the trouble of asking for time off from work, paying a party fee, paying for two (sometimes three) nights in a hotel and paying for the gas for a 200 mile trip just so I can get out of getting spanked. I told him I played a lot at parties and had no qualms about playing with him. He did watch me play with another Top and I guess he decided that I wasn't his type or something because he never asked me to play. Now I was a very hard player at that time and the Top I was playing with was whipping me with a strap made out of an old firehose. Perhaps my level of play (and my total enjoyment of our scene) turned him off? It didn't occure to me at the time that there were some Tops and Doms who didn't like it if you liked it too much. They would much rather fantasize that they're giving you something you hate (preferably against your will) than to listen to you laugh and see the smile on your face while you play.
As you can see, there are several things about being in the scene that just get under my skin and bug the heck out of me. Will any of them make me leave the scene in disgust? Probably not. I love getting spanked way too much. But I have learned to be tolerant of people who have a different attitude about the scene and its place in their lives than I do. We're all members of the same kinky family, after all. But, like a real family, even though we like each other, that doesn't mean that every now and then one doesn't do something that drives another member crazy. Most of my pet peeves don't bother me the way they used to. Some, which were major when I first discovered them, have been relegated to minor status. The fact is, all of us have pet peeves when it comes to some aspect of the scene. The trick is to keep them in their proper place and not let them interfere with your enjoyment of this thing we do.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Wonderful Weekend
Cigi and I had a rare weekend off together, so we invited our good friend and blogging buddy, Purple Angel, to come and spend the weekend with us. We were delighted when she jumped at the chance to come and visit us, especially since a previous attempt to have her come didn't pan out because of issues that had nothing to do with not wanting to come.
Purple Angel lives about an hour and a half away from us (by bus) and so had to make travel plans. Cigi and I had to make our apartment fit for human habitation and quickly. We spent all day on Thursday working and then had to come home and do serious apartment cleaning. There was laundry to finish, carpet to clean (we have three cats, after all), and a host of other cleaning chores. On Friday, I had to work until five while Cigi got off at three. So, unfortunately, it fell to her to do the last minute things. We had decided to make stroganoff for supper and had decided to put it in the slow cooker that morning before we left.
At about 6:30, Cigi asked me if I would mind going downstairs to wait for her since she couldn't remember if she had given Purple Angel our apartment number. Cigi figured that it would be easier for her to find us if one of was met her outside. Even though I was tired, I told her I would do it. I couldn't have been as tired as she was. She had done the lion's share of the work and was no doing the cooking, too. I was afraid she was going to tire herself out and then wouldn't be able to enjoy herself. I worry a lot about Cigi's health, even though she hates it. She calls it "mother hen-ning" her and I really can't help it. I do worry.
It was a little before seven, just as I was getting set to go back inside when I saw a cab pull up. I knew it was her. I ran down the steps to help her with her bag and the look on her face was priceless---it was one of pure joy. She was very happy to see me. I helped her carry her purple suitcase up the two flights of stairs to our apartment. We both noticed that the cab driver had on a purple shirt. We thought it was a wonderful omen.
Since we don't have a spare room, the issue of where she would sleep had to be addressed ahead of time. I managed to borrow an air mattress from a co-worker and this fit the bill nicely. I wanted to make sure that our guest would be as comfortable as possible during her stay. I know she had told us not to go to a lot of fuss and not make a big deal about it, but I was raised that you give guests in your home the best of everything you have to offer. And we certainly tried to do that.
After heart-felt greetings and some quick catching up, we let her get settled. She's a very easy-going person and I think our fawning over her made her a bit uncomfortable. But we don't get guests that often and I'm sure that, in several things, she humored us.
We sat down to dinner. I hadn't eaten since about noon and it was going on eight, so I was hungry. Stroganoff is a family favorite, usually reserved for special occasions like company. Cigi also served one of her favorites---steamed asparagus. I really don't like it at all so I passed on it. However, I helped myself to plenty of salad. It was a filling meal; one that was especially enjoyable because of the company. I barely noticed that the chairs were rickety and the table wobbled at times. My friend was sitting at my table, sharing my food. That was what was important.
After dinner (and the dishes were washed and the cats fed) we decided to take a ride. It was a gorgeous night so we drove her out to see our old house. OK, maybe not the most exciting thing on the agenda, but, hey, it was an excuse to get out in the wonderful night air and let that meal digest.
When we got back home, we decided to watch the spanking DVD's she had brought with her. Now Cigi and I have plenty of those, but this was a chance to see something different. I didn't recognize the name of the company that produced this three-part epic, but I certainly recognized many of the players---Keith Jones, Steve Fuller, the always delightful Erica Scott and Sierra Salem, all of Shadow Lane fame. There were some minor criticisms involving costuming (such as a what a girl in 1873 Wyoming would be doing with a French manicure) and dialogue, but we were able to put that aside and enjoy the movie. Overall, it was wonderful. I would recommend it to anyone, except maybe a person who just wanted to see spanking without a plot or dialogue. It was really wonderful. But we were only able to watch the first two parts before we got so sleepy we decided to finish it the next day. It wasn't all that late, just past midnight. But I had been up since five that morning and so I was ready to turn into a pumpkin.
We got Purple Angel settled on her air mattress and then Cigi and I headed off to sleep, too. The original plan was to put the mattress on the floor in our room, but it was too big and we ended up having to put it on the floor in the living room. The next morning, we awoke way too late for the breakfast we'd planned so we Plan B'd it and headed for the local IHOP. We had a wonderful experience, mainly due our attentive waitress. Having been one in a former life, I remembered what hard work it is and I tipped her accordingly.
We were having a fantastic time. It was just like a real sleep over, except that we didn't do each others' hair or make any prank phone calls. But we still had a great time. We made a quick stop at the grocery store for some of our favorite ice cream to eat as we watched the last part of that spanking epic we hadn't been able to watch the night before. It was a great stroke of luck that it happened to be on sale so I bought two cartons. When we got home, we were just in time to take a call from a CM friend who lives in New York. I was glad we hadn't missed him. I hadn't talked to him in quite some time. Even Purple Angel spoke to him for awhile. After hanging up from talking to him, Cigi found herself worn out (just as I had feared) and headed back to take a nap. That left Purple Angel and I to dig into the ice cream and watch the last part of the spanking epic. The ending was extremely satisfying and very well done. I'm sorry Cigi missed it. We later ordered pizza from our favorite local place. Instead of opting for delivery (which with the price of gas being what it is, I can only imagine how much extra it would've cost) we went to pick it up, another excuse to take in the wonderful night air. It seemed like all we did was pig out. But, amazingly, she and I found time to play later that night. She has an amazing purple paddle that has to be felt to be appreciated. And I let her use some of my toys on me. She's an amazingly adept spanker, despite starting her spanking life as a self-admitted submissive. It goes to show you never can tell what will happen in this wonderful spanking life. Cigi didn't feel up to playing, but got a tremendous kick out of watching Purple Angel spank me. We then retired to the living room to watch more spanking videos. Pretty soon, it was late and we had to hit the hay.
The next morning, Cigi cooked us a breakfast fit for royalty. This was the breakfast we had planned for on Saturday morning, but had slept too late for. It was such a beautiful day that the three of us indulged our enjoyment of walking through cemeteries by walking through the cemetery where our parents are buried. Many people find this a bizarre hobby (wonder which one they would think was more bizarre---cemeteries or spanking?) but being a history buff cemeteries are good places for that. We spent a good hour walking the lovely, hilly cemetery and then decided sort of on a whim that chocolate chip cookies were in order. Being of the opinion that homemade is always better than store bought, we stopped at the store to get the ingredients to make them. We no sooner got home than our older sister dropped by on her way home from work. Our place is two blocks from where she works and she was concerned that she hadn't been able to reach us by phone (a problem everyone seems to have since we're still on dial-up LOL). She couldn't stay long, but wanted to get the latest update on how Cigi's cancer treatment was going and to tell her she had seen her picture in the paper and that almost all the people she works with had commented on it.
We had a very short time to enjoy our cookies before Purple Angel had to catch her cab. But I did let her read my one attempt at a spanking story. It was a short, four-page scene that I had written at the urging of a scene friend when I first started. I've discovered that most spanking people fantasize and that almost every person in the scene has tried their hand at a spanking story. I always say I'm not a fiction writer. I leave that to people who are more capable than myself (like Devllin :-). But I figured it couldn't hurt so I thought up a story from the top of my head and finished it off in about ten minutes. Only Cigi and the spanking friend ever got to read it before Purple Angel did. She was Number Three. She liked it and said I had talent. She assured me she wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. She encouraged me to post it, but I passed. I did, however, give her permission to post it. So she will be putting it on her blog soon. She's going to give me proper credit (not that anyone else would want to take credit for it) so when you read it, remember my amateur status and be gentle. I then walked her back downstairs to her cab and watched with sadness as she drove away. I miss her already.
Purple Angel lives about an hour and a half away from us (by bus) and so had to make travel plans. Cigi and I had to make our apartment fit for human habitation and quickly. We spent all day on Thursday working and then had to come home and do serious apartment cleaning. There was laundry to finish, carpet to clean (we have three cats, after all), and a host of other cleaning chores. On Friday, I had to work until five while Cigi got off at three. So, unfortunately, it fell to her to do the last minute things. We had decided to make stroganoff for supper and had decided to put it in the slow cooker that morning before we left.
At about 6:30, Cigi asked me if I would mind going downstairs to wait for her since she couldn't remember if she had given Purple Angel our apartment number. Cigi figured that it would be easier for her to find us if one of was met her outside. Even though I was tired, I told her I would do it. I couldn't have been as tired as she was. She had done the lion's share of the work and was no doing the cooking, too. I was afraid she was going to tire herself out and then wouldn't be able to enjoy herself. I worry a lot about Cigi's health, even though she hates it. She calls it "mother hen-ning" her and I really can't help it. I do worry.
It was a little before seven, just as I was getting set to go back inside when I saw a cab pull up. I knew it was her. I ran down the steps to help her with her bag and the look on her face was priceless---it was one of pure joy. She was very happy to see me. I helped her carry her purple suitcase up the two flights of stairs to our apartment. We both noticed that the cab driver had on a purple shirt. We thought it was a wonderful omen.
Since we don't have a spare room, the issue of where she would sleep had to be addressed ahead of time. I managed to borrow an air mattress from a co-worker and this fit the bill nicely. I wanted to make sure that our guest would be as comfortable as possible during her stay. I know she had told us not to go to a lot of fuss and not make a big deal about it, but I was raised that you give guests in your home the best of everything you have to offer. And we certainly tried to do that.
After heart-felt greetings and some quick catching up, we let her get settled. She's a very easy-going person and I think our fawning over her made her a bit uncomfortable. But we don't get guests that often and I'm sure that, in several things, she humored us.
We sat down to dinner. I hadn't eaten since about noon and it was going on eight, so I was hungry. Stroganoff is a family favorite, usually reserved for special occasions like company. Cigi also served one of her favorites---steamed asparagus. I really don't like it at all so I passed on it. However, I helped myself to plenty of salad. It was a filling meal; one that was especially enjoyable because of the company. I barely noticed that the chairs were rickety and the table wobbled at times. My friend was sitting at my table, sharing my food. That was what was important.
After dinner (and the dishes were washed and the cats fed) we decided to take a ride. It was a gorgeous night so we drove her out to see our old house. OK, maybe not the most exciting thing on the agenda, but, hey, it was an excuse to get out in the wonderful night air and let that meal digest.
When we got back home, we decided to watch the spanking DVD's she had brought with her. Now Cigi and I have plenty of those, but this was a chance to see something different. I didn't recognize the name of the company that produced this three-part epic, but I certainly recognized many of the players---Keith Jones, Steve Fuller, the always delightful Erica Scott and Sierra Salem, all of Shadow Lane fame. There were some minor criticisms involving costuming (such as a what a girl in 1873 Wyoming would be doing with a French manicure) and dialogue, but we were able to put that aside and enjoy the movie. Overall, it was wonderful. I would recommend it to anyone, except maybe a person who just wanted to see spanking without a plot or dialogue. It was really wonderful. But we were only able to watch the first two parts before we got so sleepy we decided to finish it the next day. It wasn't all that late, just past midnight. But I had been up since five that morning and so I was ready to turn into a pumpkin.
We got Purple Angel settled on her air mattress and then Cigi and I headed off to sleep, too. The original plan was to put the mattress on the floor in our room, but it was too big and we ended up having to put it on the floor in the living room. The next morning, we awoke way too late for the breakfast we'd planned so we Plan B'd it and headed for the local IHOP. We had a wonderful experience, mainly due our attentive waitress. Having been one in a former life, I remembered what hard work it is and I tipped her accordingly.
We were having a fantastic time. It was just like a real sleep over, except that we didn't do each others' hair or make any prank phone calls. But we still had a great time. We made a quick stop at the grocery store for some of our favorite ice cream to eat as we watched the last part of that spanking epic we hadn't been able to watch the night before. It was a great stroke of luck that it happened to be on sale so I bought two cartons. When we got home, we were just in time to take a call from a CM friend who lives in New York. I was glad we hadn't missed him. I hadn't talked to him in quite some time. Even Purple Angel spoke to him for awhile. After hanging up from talking to him, Cigi found herself worn out (just as I had feared) and headed back to take a nap. That left Purple Angel and I to dig into the ice cream and watch the last part of the spanking epic. The ending was extremely satisfying and very well done. I'm sorry Cigi missed it. We later ordered pizza from our favorite local place. Instead of opting for delivery (which with the price of gas being what it is, I can only imagine how much extra it would've cost) we went to pick it up, another excuse to take in the wonderful night air. It seemed like all we did was pig out. But, amazingly, she and I found time to play later that night. She has an amazing purple paddle that has to be felt to be appreciated. And I let her use some of my toys on me. She's an amazingly adept spanker, despite starting her spanking life as a self-admitted submissive. It goes to show you never can tell what will happen in this wonderful spanking life. Cigi didn't feel up to playing, but got a tremendous kick out of watching Purple Angel spank me. We then retired to the living room to watch more spanking videos. Pretty soon, it was late and we had to hit the hay.
The next morning, Cigi cooked us a breakfast fit for royalty. This was the breakfast we had planned for on Saturday morning, but had slept too late for. It was such a beautiful day that the three of us indulged our enjoyment of walking through cemeteries by walking through the cemetery where our parents are buried. Many people find this a bizarre hobby (wonder which one they would think was more bizarre---cemeteries or spanking?) but being a history buff cemeteries are good places for that. We spent a good hour walking the lovely, hilly cemetery and then decided sort of on a whim that chocolate chip cookies were in order. Being of the opinion that homemade is always better than store bought, we stopped at the store to get the ingredients to make them. We no sooner got home than our older sister dropped by on her way home from work. Our place is two blocks from where she works and she was concerned that she hadn't been able to reach us by phone (a problem everyone seems to have since we're still on dial-up LOL). She couldn't stay long, but wanted to get the latest update on how Cigi's cancer treatment was going and to tell her she had seen her picture in the paper and that almost all the people she works with had commented on it.
We had a very short time to enjoy our cookies before Purple Angel had to catch her cab. But I did let her read my one attempt at a spanking story. It was a short, four-page scene that I had written at the urging of a scene friend when I first started. I've discovered that most spanking people fantasize and that almost every person in the scene has tried their hand at a spanking story. I always say I'm not a fiction writer. I leave that to people who are more capable than myself (like Devllin :-). But I figured it couldn't hurt so I thought up a story from the top of my head and finished it off in about ten minutes. Only Cigi and the spanking friend ever got to read it before Purple Angel did. She was Number Three. She liked it and said I had talent. She assured me she wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. She encouraged me to post it, but I passed. I did, however, give her permission to post it. So she will be putting it on her blog soon. She's going to give me proper credit (not that anyone else would want to take credit for it) so when you read it, remember my amateur status and be gentle. I then walked her back downstairs to her cab and watched with sadness as she drove away. I miss her already.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Fire And Ice
Author's Note: The story you're about to read is true. The names have not been changed because no one involved was innocent.
Thanks to Daria for inspiring the title :-)
When I first started in the spanking scene, I was employed at a local restaurant as a manager. I had many responsibilities that kept me extremely busy. So I indulged in my "new-found" proclivity whenever the opportunity presented itself. One night at work, it did. A new guy named Rob came to work at the restaurant that summer. I had already been to a few parties and had several regular partners. But, you know, I just couldn't get spanked often enough. Anyway, Rob was not well-liked at work. He was somewhat of a braggart and I got the impression he was always trying to impress people. One day, without preamble, he came up to me while I was working on the schedule for the coming week and informed me that his parents had horses.
"Do you ride?" he asked.
I told him that I used to, but I hadn't been on a horse in many years. He looked at me somewhat dubiously before he said the next sentence. Now, Cigi believes that spankos can "spot each other" and I guess this was one instance when she was right.
"Well, if you don't wanna go riding, I can think of another way to give you a sore bottom," he told me.
I dropped the clipboard I was holding. I could've sworn he'd just offered to spank me. I picked it up and said "Are you offering?"
"Sure, why not?" he asked.
"Right here at work?" I said.
I was trying to think of a place private enough, where we had less chance of getting caught. I went to the office and ran off a copy of the daily inventory counts and told Rob he could go outside and have a cigarette if he wanted one. Keep in mind, I was his direct supervisor. If we had gotten caught, we both would've been fired with no questions asked.
I always began the inventory counts by counting the cases in the outside freezer. Rob was standing by the backdoor smoking a cigarette. I beckoned him in and he threw his smoke away. It was freezing in there, but I was used to it. The door had a safety lock that prevented us from being locked in should the door close all the way and there was a light so we were perfectly safe. I wasn't dressed for playing. I had worked the dinner rush so I had grease on my uniform shirt. Quite frankly, I must have looked awful. I wasn't wearing a thong, either, something I always did when I played back then.
When Rob came into the freezer, there was a very awkward pause. He rubbed his hands together.
"Do you still wanna do this?"
I had had some time to think about this. I thought about what I would do if I lost my job. But I really wanted him to spank me, so I just nodded.
"How do you wanna do it?" he asked. "OTK or what?"
That's how I knew for sure he was a real spanko. No one else would know what OTK meant. The scene does have its own jargon, after all.
Of course, I wanted it OTK. There happened to be three cases of roast beef nearby that made a place for him to sit that was the perfect height for what we were about to do.
"Over your clothes or bare bottom?" he asked.
"Bare if it's OK," I said. "As long as you're cool with it."
Believe me, he was cool with it. I took a deep breath (as deep as I could take in the freezing, sub-zero atmosphere of the freezer) and undid my pants and slid them down. I didn't know how much time we were going to have and we just didn't have the time to work down to the bare. He sat down on these boxes and I got over his knee. It was a delicious moment for me. I had never done anything so brazenly against the rules before. But the urge to get spanked is very strong in us bottoms (as anyone who is one will gladly attest).
He started out slowly (another indication that he knew what he was doing). Now he was shorter than me, younger than me and not much to look at. Did I let that stop me? No. We sort of had to listen in case someone came by and saw the lock off the door and threw it open, wondering why the freezer (and all of its expensive inventory left at risk of theft) was left wide open. After awhile, I could feel the familiar heat on my bottom. Rob laughed and said "Look at that! There's steam coming off your butt!"
It was strange to put it mildly. There was, indeed some kind of diaphanous vapor coming off my butt. And, man, was it red. But it was time to get back inside before I was missed. Before we went back inside, I cautioned him not to talk about this to anyone. Not that I was a hypocrite or anything. This was purely a practical matter. I wanted to keep my job. What we had just done was fraternization in every sense of the word. A major no-no. Then, for the remainder of his shift, I had to act like nothing happened and he had to do the same. He had to take orders from me becuase I was his boss. Maybe this was a fantasy of his--spanking the boss? Who knows? However, we did get together a few times after that. A few months later, he moved back to his hometown and I lost all track of him. But I remember him fondly for being brave enough to indulge me in the most daring thing I had ever done. Going to parties had required a certain bravery on my part but this was the "vanilla world", where this wasn't supposed to happen.
So that's the whole story, unembelished and just as it happened. Now that I think about it, it was all sort of perfunctory. Of course, as I said before, we didn't have time to savor the experience. But it was still thrilling in its own way.
Thanks to Daria for inspiring the title :-)
When I first started in the spanking scene, I was employed at a local restaurant as a manager. I had many responsibilities that kept me extremely busy. So I indulged in my "new-found" proclivity whenever the opportunity presented itself. One night at work, it did. A new guy named Rob came to work at the restaurant that summer. I had already been to a few parties and had several regular partners. But, you know, I just couldn't get spanked often enough. Anyway, Rob was not well-liked at work. He was somewhat of a braggart and I got the impression he was always trying to impress people. One day, without preamble, he came up to me while I was working on the schedule for the coming week and informed me that his parents had horses.
"Do you ride?" he asked.
I told him that I used to, but I hadn't been on a horse in many years. He looked at me somewhat dubiously before he said the next sentence. Now, Cigi believes that spankos can "spot each other" and I guess this was one instance when she was right.
"Well, if you don't wanna go riding, I can think of another way to give you a sore bottom," he told me.
I dropped the clipboard I was holding. I could've sworn he'd just offered to spank me. I picked it up and said "Are you offering?"
"Sure, why not?" he asked.
"Right here at work?" I said.
I was trying to think of a place private enough, where we had less chance of getting caught. I went to the office and ran off a copy of the daily inventory counts and told Rob he could go outside and have a cigarette if he wanted one. Keep in mind, I was his direct supervisor. If we had gotten caught, we both would've been fired with no questions asked.
I always began the inventory counts by counting the cases in the outside freezer. Rob was standing by the backdoor smoking a cigarette. I beckoned him in and he threw his smoke away. It was freezing in there, but I was used to it. The door had a safety lock that prevented us from being locked in should the door close all the way and there was a light so we were perfectly safe. I wasn't dressed for playing. I had worked the dinner rush so I had grease on my uniform shirt. Quite frankly, I must have looked awful. I wasn't wearing a thong, either, something I always did when I played back then.
When Rob came into the freezer, there was a very awkward pause. He rubbed his hands together.
"Do you still wanna do this?"
I had had some time to think about this. I thought about what I would do if I lost my job. But I really wanted him to spank me, so I just nodded.
"How do you wanna do it?" he asked. "OTK or what?"
That's how I knew for sure he was a real spanko. No one else would know what OTK meant. The scene does have its own jargon, after all.
Of course, I wanted it OTK. There happened to be three cases of roast beef nearby that made a place for him to sit that was the perfect height for what we were about to do.
"Over your clothes or bare bottom?" he asked.
"Bare if it's OK," I said. "As long as you're cool with it."
Believe me, he was cool with it. I took a deep breath (as deep as I could take in the freezing, sub-zero atmosphere of the freezer) and undid my pants and slid them down. I didn't know how much time we were going to have and we just didn't have the time to work down to the bare. He sat down on these boxes and I got over his knee. It was a delicious moment for me. I had never done anything so brazenly against the rules before. But the urge to get spanked is very strong in us bottoms (as anyone who is one will gladly attest).
He started out slowly (another indication that he knew what he was doing). Now he was shorter than me, younger than me and not much to look at. Did I let that stop me? No. We sort of had to listen in case someone came by and saw the lock off the door and threw it open, wondering why the freezer (and all of its expensive inventory left at risk of theft) was left wide open. After awhile, I could feel the familiar heat on my bottom. Rob laughed and said "Look at that! There's steam coming off your butt!"
It was strange to put it mildly. There was, indeed some kind of diaphanous vapor coming off my butt. And, man, was it red. But it was time to get back inside before I was missed. Before we went back inside, I cautioned him not to talk about this to anyone. Not that I was a hypocrite or anything. This was purely a practical matter. I wanted to keep my job. What we had just done was fraternization in every sense of the word. A major no-no. Then, for the remainder of his shift, I had to act like nothing happened and he had to do the same. He had to take orders from me becuase I was his boss. Maybe this was a fantasy of his--spanking the boss? Who knows? However, we did get together a few times after that. A few months later, he moved back to his hometown and I lost all track of him. But I remember him fondly for being brave enough to indulge me in the most daring thing I had ever done. Going to parties had required a certain bravery on my part but this was the "vanilla world", where this wasn't supposed to happen.
So that's the whole story, unembelished and just as it happened. Now that I think about it, it was all sort of perfunctory. Of course, as I said before, we didn't have time to savor the experience. But it was still thrilling in its own way.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The Compleat Spankee
I just finished reading "The Compleat Spanker" for the 20th time (or thereabouts). I have to say that my opinions and perspectives have certainly changed since the first time I read it. Actually, I haven't read it in quite some time. I found it while I was doing some spring apartment cleaning yesterday. I wondered where the book had gone.
In case there is anyone out there who hasn't read this book, it's a small, yet fairly concise, volume that covers the basics of topping--toys, positions, aftercare, etc. When the book was first published, apparently there were no books specifically about spanking and spanking safety. The book is only about 80 pages, but Lady Green crams it with helpful information.
After I reread the book, I had to ask myself if I was a compleat spankee. Do I do the things I'm supposed to do to keep me and my partner safe? Do I make sure both of us enjoy the scene? Do I lay the scene out before it happens to ensure that there are no surprises? Do I discuss my safeword with all of my partners? I have to be honest and say that sometimes I'm not a very good bottom. Sometimes I'm not really interested if my Top enjoys the scene as much as I did. Of course, I know that there are Tops out there who have spanked me and loved it. I know also that there are Tops out there who played with me once and never asked me again. Perhaps they wanted more from the scene than I did? Perhaps the way I play isn't their cup of tea? In that case, what is my responsibility to the Top who didn't get what he wanted from a scene with me? Maybe it wouldn't have turned out that way if I had told him before the scene ever started what I wanted and what I didn't. So I have to take my share of blame in a situation like that.
In the same way a Top has responsibilities in a scene, so does the bottom. Maybe I've been a bit lax in my scene responsibilities? Or maybe the fact that I've been in the scene for awhile has made me a bit blase when it comes to the basics? Reading that book has got me thinking about what kind of spankee I am and what kind I want to be. I want to be the kind of bottom that Tops love to play with. I want to be the kind that others look to as an example of the way one is supposed to behave with other scene people. Like it or not, I'm part of a larger community than just the two or three spanking groups I belong to. Last year, I was at a Crimson Moon party and started talking to a couple from another part of the country (can't remember now if it was east or west of Chicago) who assured me they had both heard of me from Crimson Moon members who lived by them. So not only does ones name get around in the scene (thanks to the Internet) but so, presumably, does ones reputation.I've heard stories about people who have done something wrong and are asked not to come back to parties and I don't ever want this to happen to me. I want the door to be open to me wherever I go.
So, to me, the "compleat spankee" is someone who takes safety issues seriously, keeps the games to a minimum, welcomes newbies and makes them feel comfortable in the scene and also one who sets a good example for them. The last thing I want is for the doors to start slamming in my face because I did something to compromise the integrity of the scene or the group I'm in.
In case there is anyone out there who hasn't read this book, it's a small, yet fairly concise, volume that covers the basics of topping--toys, positions, aftercare, etc. When the book was first published, apparently there were no books specifically about spanking and spanking safety. The book is only about 80 pages, but Lady Green crams it with helpful information.
After I reread the book, I had to ask myself if I was a compleat spankee. Do I do the things I'm supposed to do to keep me and my partner safe? Do I make sure both of us enjoy the scene? Do I lay the scene out before it happens to ensure that there are no surprises? Do I discuss my safeword with all of my partners? I have to be honest and say that sometimes I'm not a very good bottom. Sometimes I'm not really interested if my Top enjoys the scene as much as I did. Of course, I know that there are Tops out there who have spanked me and loved it. I know also that there are Tops out there who played with me once and never asked me again. Perhaps they wanted more from the scene than I did? Perhaps the way I play isn't their cup of tea? In that case, what is my responsibility to the Top who didn't get what he wanted from a scene with me? Maybe it wouldn't have turned out that way if I had told him before the scene ever started what I wanted and what I didn't. So I have to take my share of blame in a situation like that.
In the same way a Top has responsibilities in a scene, so does the bottom. Maybe I've been a bit lax in my scene responsibilities? Or maybe the fact that I've been in the scene for awhile has made me a bit blase when it comes to the basics? Reading that book has got me thinking about what kind of spankee I am and what kind I want to be. I want to be the kind of bottom that Tops love to play with. I want to be the kind that others look to as an example of the way one is supposed to behave with other scene people. Like it or not, I'm part of a larger community than just the two or three spanking groups I belong to. Last year, I was at a Crimson Moon party and started talking to a couple from another part of the country (can't remember now if it was east or west of Chicago) who assured me they had both heard of me from Crimson Moon members who lived by them. So not only does ones name get around in the scene (thanks to the Internet) but so, presumably, does ones reputation.I've heard stories about people who have done something wrong and are asked not to come back to parties and I don't ever want this to happen to me. I want the door to be open to me wherever I go.
So, to me, the "compleat spankee" is someone who takes safety issues seriously, keeps the games to a minimum, welcomes newbies and makes them feel comfortable in the scene and also one who sets a good example for them. The last thing I want is for the doors to start slamming in my face because I did something to compromise the integrity of the scene or the group I'm in.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Preserve Your Memories
Today I finished a project I've been promising myself I would do for about two years now. I took all of my old photos (from parties and play dates) along with nametags and keycards from hotels and I put them in a photo album. Back in the days before I had a digital camera, I would take pictures and then trudge to Walgreen's to get them developed. I usually got a picture CD and a set of prints. But knowing that the person who developed the pictures had seen them sort of made uncomfortable. It wasn't until I had a job where one of my duties was one hour photo developing that I realized that they saw everything.
I had no idea what a trip down memory lane this was going to be for me. A lot has changed since the days when I first got into the scene. Because I'm a hoarder (a trait which has driven several people in my life completely crazy) there was a lot there. Most people would consider a nametag or a keycard to be so much garbage and just pitch them. But I kept everything. When Cigi and I moved from our house to an apartment, I had the forethought to round everything up and put them in a big bag so I would have everything in one place. I patted myself on the back for thinking ahead. However, my happiness was shortlived as I realized that somehow, a small amount of moisture had gotten into the bag. The nametags are adhesive on one side and so I spent a stressful hour or so trying to get them unstuck without tearing them. A couple of them have small tears, but I can live with that.
When I completed the task and looked through the album, I became very nostalgic. I looked at the faces of people I probably will never see again (for one reason or another) and I just got very sentimental. It was very unexpected.
Do any of you out there have a place (besides your computer, I mean) where you keep things like photos and momentos of your life in the scene? Having a digital camera helps a lot but since I don't have a scanner and I'm not about to take my memory chip up to Walgreens and have digital prints made (sort of defeats the purpose) unless a friend takes them and wants to give me one, I think my days of having actual paper prints to look at are over. Maybe this is what I'm so sentimental about? Maybe it's the fact that I've allowed technology to rob me of one of my most treasured and enjoyable past times---looking at old photographs. As much as I love the advantages of having a digital camera, I really love old paper prints. They are something tangible that you can hold in your hand, sometimes close to your heart if you're so inclined.
Even if you're not a hoarder like me, memories are hard to hold onto. Especially the kind you can hold in your hand.
I had no idea what a trip down memory lane this was going to be for me. A lot has changed since the days when I first got into the scene. Because I'm a hoarder (a trait which has driven several people in my life completely crazy) there was a lot there. Most people would consider a nametag or a keycard to be so much garbage and just pitch them. But I kept everything. When Cigi and I moved from our house to an apartment, I had the forethought to round everything up and put them in a big bag so I would have everything in one place. I patted myself on the back for thinking ahead. However, my happiness was shortlived as I realized that somehow, a small amount of moisture had gotten into the bag. The nametags are adhesive on one side and so I spent a stressful hour or so trying to get them unstuck without tearing them. A couple of them have small tears, but I can live with that.
When I completed the task and looked through the album, I became very nostalgic. I looked at the faces of people I probably will never see again (for one reason or another) and I just got very sentimental. It was very unexpected.
Do any of you out there have a place (besides your computer, I mean) where you keep things like photos and momentos of your life in the scene? Having a digital camera helps a lot but since I don't have a scanner and I'm not about to take my memory chip up to Walgreens and have digital prints made (sort of defeats the purpose) unless a friend takes them and wants to give me one, I think my days of having actual paper prints to look at are over. Maybe this is what I'm so sentimental about? Maybe it's the fact that I've allowed technology to rob me of one of my most treasured and enjoyable past times---looking at old photographs. As much as I love the advantages of having a digital camera, I really love old paper prints. They are something tangible that you can hold in your hand, sometimes close to your heart if you're so inclined.
Even if you're not a hoarder like me, memories are hard to hold onto. Especially the kind you can hold in your hand.
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