Luper Subspace

Even though my Sir, Firm-Hand-Buddha had played fairly hard upon my ass and etc Friday night, by Sunday I had not a mark, which has been something Firm-Hand-Buddha has heard a great deal of whining about. I have a friend who is fairly new to the lifestyle and has that lovely skin that marks beautifully, and I am jealous!! My marks these days fade within an hour. This silly yearning for marks has led me to do all sorts of silly things, from using exfoliating cleansers on my ass to derma-abrasion... but to no avail. The skin of my ass just heals like magic these days.
The dungeon was much busier this time (in comparison to Friday). Our favorite benches were in use, and Sir decided to forgo playing with his new wand. (Yes I was disappointed dammit!! But as a spank-a-holic I prevailed and did not drag my feet at all.. .much. Sir picked out a kneeling style bench, and kindly did not use any of the eye-bolts to restrain me.
He loosened my corset, quite a bit, which is usually a sign that this is going to be long and hard-otherwise usually it is just enough for me to bend. I love my corset, just in case anyone was wondering. I could see his boots, and reached as if to untie his laces, which of course got me that playful, "Don't think about it!" (Why do those words make me so wet??)
Sir's warm up was short and sweet, leaving my backside very warm and eliciting all sorts of blush causing sounds from me. I could clearly hear the conversation of the leather folk in front of me, which, for whatever reason, added to my head space. It was Swat! Smack! "Hmmm, How about the weather here? It's so windy" Smack! Moan, Blush, writhe. "Did anyone see.." I felt as if I was of no note, not important at all. Even when the comments may have been about me or Sir (or not) it was so indirect that I felt completely objectified. Not usually my thing, really, but this time, in this moment, it was perfect.
Again I was facing the crowd (was i the only one that noted that most equipment seemed to be this way this year? Am I the only one that likes to hide their face?). With all the over-stimulation of the weekend, between classes, the market, the hundreds of kink folk everywhere...well I was not finding it difficult to sink into that lovely cocoon of safe and yummy that some call subspace.
Sir, perhaps in response to how easily I was managing his initial erm high spirited swats, stepped up his game. I swear, the moment I was able to find my rhythm, there he was smacking harder, faster or in more tender spots. My hands were not fastened and I writhed, often grabbing his leg in a desperate measure to be able to not make a spectacle of myself. I would sink into that yummy space and Sir would grin evilly (or so I imagined) and pull me up just a bit.. I would finally sink again and he would up the ante and yard me out again. I have no idea how I managed to not lift off that bench.
And so we danced.
He led the dance with his implements, working my skin and nerves to exhaustion. His hand swinging to a beat only he can hear as he led me through bucking, moaning, begging, and yes giggling. The music added an element to the dance in a very ... strong way.
He beat me and my body begged for more. He drew from me sounds, motions and emotions-I could feel myself being molded-filling with a need to just be all he demanded. In that instant I submitted in a way I had never really felt before. This was no longer about my love of spankings (etc), but this was about us. About him. About giving over myself. It was a beautiful moment.
My body followed his without my willing it. I bucked for him, I squirmed for him, I raised my hips to help him. i quivered, I sobbed, I moaned. I didn't give a flying shit if I looked ridiculous, sounded pathetic... all I cared about was the dance, his lead, the moment.
I have no idea what this was in reality, but from where I was it felt frantic, as if the speed and force were so erratic and out of control, as my hands scrambled for a way to anchor me, my hips lifted and churned... I was certainly frantic. Nothing hurt but I felt as if I had become the dance-I was the the tempo.
Then things slowed. Time fragmented as I felt ebony against my skin. i could hear my breathing, my whimpers, and every inch of my skin tingled and pulsed as he pressed that dreaded and loved paddle against my skin. My hips lifted, my body melted, relaxed.
The impact streamed red, and I begged, writhed, found my center and again lifted, and melted. And again. And again. And I had not vision of this ever ending, no concept for anything but this incredible dance. My world had become narrowed down to this sensation, the feel of my bruised flesh yeilding...
I could hear Sir talking to me, his voice wrapping around me and i became aware that I was sobbing.. Tears streamed my face. My first coherent thought was "Oh my gawd.. Am I drooling?"
As I came back into my head, Sir's hand stroking my back and face, I finally clued in to what he was saying. I don't remember the phrasing, but he had drawn blood.
With my inner voice screaming hysterically (I hate blood, no blood nooooooooooo) I calmly asked how bad it was. (points for me!). He had just smacked a welt, and it was merely a droplet. I had no idea what the dungeon protocol for this was, so we agreed he should find the DM and find out. And get a band-aid.
So there i was, DM and Sir peering at my ass while I died a thousand deaths of embarrassment, and I look up and straight into a set of friendly eyes, watching with interest. i know we spoke, but high as I still was, and as red faced as I surely was, I remember not a word, other than he was amused and I laughed as well. All while my Sir and a man I barely met are poking at my ass.
Sir wrapped me up, helped me up and half carried me to a chair. By the time he returned with a band-aid i was hyper as hell, bouncing and giddy.
Thank you Sir, for taking me to new places. For understanding how to give me what I need and never making me feel like a freak. For creating this safe, and yes damn you sacred place where I am free to be me.
Thank you to those in the crowd that unwittingly added to my scene, bwahaha. And of course, thanks to the DM.
PS. It is 8 days later and I have some lovely marks still. While I get that I can't be playing like that all the time, (sigh) this made my day!!

Spanking Event for COPE Sept 29

Let me present:

Angel's Spanking Academy

Angel's Spanking Academy is offering a chance to challenge their infamous spanking exam to receive full certification and grade on your spanking style!

This event is open to any persons that wish to participate and have their spanking ability "rated" in the categories of "positioning" "dialogue" "technique" and "impact" (This is over the knee hand spankings, to be clear).

Exams would take place in the COPE dungeon, September 29th. Straight back chair will be provided. Bring your own lap and hand. Bonus points for creativity, dress and demeanor.

A spanking rubric will be emailed to any that wish to participate (so that you can practice, mwahaha) and Certificates of "Novice Spanker" "Intermediate Spanker" "Advanced Spanker" and "Master Spanker" will be awarded in accordance to one's score.

This is meant to be fun! Bring your creative streak!

Anyone wanting to participate, please message me with a time slot (count on this event taking 1/2 hour, 15 minutes of that being lap-time, with time to get your certificate and marks ready) I will need to know in advance how many want to play, so that I can gauge how many other backsides besides my own will be needed. (I am a glutton, to be sure, but I only have so much skin!)

Anyone wanting to be a bottom for this event, also please message me with time frames.

Anyone who feels they are qualified to be part of the Academy's grading team please let me know!

Happy Spanking!

Part 1 Shadowlane Spanking Party in Vegas, 2012

was still awake at 1 am, the early morning of the first of September, trembling with excitement over the upcoming trip to Las Vegas... It reminded me of Christmas Eve when I was a very young girl... As I lay there trembling, trying so desperately to sleep but way beyond too excited...

My Dom, Mr.Nab, had already dished out a PreVegasSettleTheFuckDownMiss sort of spanking, which did nothing to lower my giddy glee and anticipation of the fun to come.  I have no idea how long I lay there beside him, hoping and hoping to get to sleep, but when that damn alarm went off at 430 am I was certainly feeling it.

We hustled through our morning must do's, dressing and loading the truck wtih my two bags (plus carry on, plus purse.. What can I say) and his one medium bag.. I left a thank you note for RK&f, twisted my hair into a clip and we stumbled out the door. 

I had chosen to dress in a long skirt and tak top, with a lacey sweater... which I knew would be fine once we hit vancouver ,but in Edmonton is was freaking cold.  I shivered miserably in truck as we made the 45 minute drive to the airport.

Mr. Nab expertly navigated the nearly deserted city, and we arrived at the airport with plenty of time.  Still shivering like a nudist in a snowstorm I straggled alongside my Sir. As we entered the airport, I dug out our passports and our flight confirmation number and we attempted to check in at the computer checking station... The lovely machine promptly spat out my boarding pass, but the screen displayed this ominous message, "Mr. Nab's boarding pass cannot be processed here.  Please check in at the counter".

We entered the long line, which to be fair we had to do to check out bags anyways.  While we waited I asked, sweetly, if there was anything I should know.  Mr. Nab gave me his 'not amused' look, which of course had me much cheered. At the counter the attendant professionally checked our bags and provided us with a boarding pass for Mr. Nab.  I asked if there was an issue, and she calmly shared that while there was no issue, Mr. Nab was the proud winner of an enhanced pat down-ie: he had been randomly selected to go through enhanced measures at the international airport in Vancouver. 
I tossed Sir a gleeful grin, opened my mouth and he said, "don't."  Anyone that knows me also knows that telling me 'no' or 'don't' is not much of a deterrant... Needless to say I was giggling like a maniac..

We headed to the security checkpoint, me teasing Sir the entire way... "Not even there  yet and you are getting some action!" I chortled.  Mr. Nab, to his credit, is incredibly laid back and took my ribbing and the situation with a calm that I envy to no end. I am not sure if I am just that bratty, If my humor is that skewed or if I was just beyond tired and giddy, but the calmer Sir was, the harder I giggled.

It certainly did not help matters that when the TSA fellow scanned Sir's boarding pass he ALSO gave Sir a huge shit eating grin, and said, "Uh, you know you were randomly selected..?" Keep in mind that Sir is a Six foot tall very pale bald guy-he stands out. And the agent was this 5'9" (ish) wiry built, dark hair, dark skinned gentleman.  So it was quite ironic, which tickled me to no end.

So there we were, Sir, my giggling self and the grinning TSA fellow.  Although Sir gave the gent a wry smile and nod, he was less amicable in regards to my mirth. He marked me to the first set of tables at the screening area, bent my protesting and giggling self over the table and delivered a resounding volley of.....



Ok... that didn't happen... I mean, no spanking-the giggling did happen..

Regardless we managed to board our plane and arrived in Vancouver without any further fuss.  We immediately headed to customs, where the border agent was humorous and entertaining as he stamped our passports.  then we entered the security area for international travel, which had me giggling again.  The actual pat down took perhaps ten seconds, it was nothing really, but it oh so amused the hell out of me.

The rest of our flight was peaceful, I am sure I slept a little.  Watching that last stretch of scenery I was again terribly excited!! Almost there!!

Unfortunately, our misadventures had only begun.  We landed without a problem, but while all my luggage arrived without an issue, Sir's bag did not.  There was however, a bag on the carasoul that was the same bag, except a different colour. We reported to the Agent, and they admitted they did not knmow if the bag had been flagged.  We left our information, and headed to the hotel.

We had been on the 'road' for 13 hours at this point., and Sir was not impressed with the idea of having to show up at the Shadowlane dinner in the clothing he had travelled in. So we checked into the hotel and walked to a 'nearby' set of shops. 

I was wearing sandals, and by the time we arrived at the shops my foot had a HUGE blister... so I did what any girl would do! I browsed shoes. Sir was not able to find anything that impressed him clothing wise and we returned to the hotel.

Where I unpacked a little, changed (and got well and truly spanked) and we headed to the dinner. 

Here is me in my corset, in Vegas