How not to punish THIS sub

First off, just don't.
Don't punish me.
Ever.
As a spanko i get the allure of punishment. I really do. Some of my favorite fantasies are punishment based.
Hot, right?
The silly girl (me) does something ridiculous and her kind but stern (dominant, boss, husband, teacher etc) has to take her in hand and correct her wayward ways... Yummy as hell.
But the reality just does not work for me. The sexy stories are all about girls doing crazy things-driving dangerously, spending money they don't have, being embarrassingly bratty in public, playing childish and spiteful pranks... The list goes on.
Even as a child I did not do such things. I certainly am not going to start now. I make mistakes of course. I tend to take on more tasks than I can complete efficiently. I immerse myself in hobbies. I waste time on Fetlife. I forget to put a spoon in Sir's lunch. I get cranky. As soon as I 'mess up' and realize I did so, I feel regret. I think about what happened and I apologize to anyone it may have affected. I consider better ways to do things. I then learn, move on.
If Sir had decided to punish me for the spoon incident, I would have been crushed. Taking care of him is my favorite responsibility and he knows that I take this responsibility seriously.
Once I moved past being crushed, I would have moved on to being resentful. You see, spanking, corner time and lectures are beautiful things for me. They are magic. I love them-LOVE THEM! If those things were used with intent to make me feel bad, I would resent that. Not only do I not need a punishment to feel bad when I fuck up, but spankings (for me) are a happy place. I would resent them being tarnished.
I would resent him. I would be mining his words and actions for faults and mistakes, each one would deepen my resentment.
Punishment would not 'teach me' to be 'good'. Punishment would teach me to be hostile and angry.
When I mess up, we talk about it. If I need help to find solutions, FHB is willing to do what he can. I try to take responsibility for myself.
Funishment now... that is another thing entirely..

Why did I say that???

"You can pick whatever dungeon piece you want, I'm game" I offered foolishly. I am still unsure as to what, exactly I was thinking. Perhaps the near emptiness of the dungeon lulled me into feeling safe in such an offer... perhaps I was a bit high from all the excitement of the market and toga party... perhaps my trust in him has grown to a depth that allows for me to be ok with less dignified positions, less romantic public displays, challenges and blushes. perhaps I am just foolish...

"Those stocks look interesting," he grins at me. That grin.. Sir, you darn well know I love that grin of yours. I glanced nervously over at the piece in question (Side note... Bondage Jerry makes the most amazing stuff. If ever someone wants to gift me, that is what I want.. Equipment from Jerry... lmfao) and I swallowed nervously. It is set so that the victim faces the crowd (i prefer no one can see my face, duh. Look at my ass!! Not my face!!). It is also a very challenging position, I note. The feet are locked into the base and the body bends forward so that the neck is locked about waist high, and the hands support the weight, clenching a bar, with the wrists also pilloried. There is no real support for the waist. I try to imagine myself there and can't. So ...stuck...

I point out the piece to fyen who happily tells me that it is an evil piece, very challenging and that it has caused her some distress. I digest that, and am about to renege on my offer when my Sir gently touches my back to gather my attention.

"So? What will it be? That bench over there?" He smiles gently and my heart hurts a little. He knows, he knows... how hard it is for me to allow him to embarrass me. How easy it is for me to become embarrassed. That I prefer dignity and to be arranged attractively for public play. In the face of such respect, without a hint of disappointment (although I damn well could see how much the stock one appealed), I just can't disappoint-myself or Him.

"The stocks are fine." I blurt, beet red. I wander over there, wishing I had negotiated for a tender scene, rather than leaving it to him. (Yes, I oh so am allowed to ask for sweeter spankings, or harder ones, as I feel the need. My Sir feels pride that I trust him with my needs- he does not feel threatened by it, nor do we feel this is an issue in our power exchange. I don't always get my way, of course... but he always hears me out and respects my input). A part of me hopes he pushes me a bit, while the other part is already mortified at the idea of strangers watching me struggle.

He tenderly helps me out of my clothing and shoes, takes my hand and helps me onto the damned piece. My feet are secured (and of course I had to try to move them...) and then he smiles and tumbles me gently forward, securing my neck in the "collar" which triggers a very primitive response in me. I feel... owned. I feel so very naked.

He fusses with all the closures, getting my wrists locked in. As he moves behind me I feel that lovely tightening of muscles and I know I am wet, exposed and that I am fucked really.

The music is loud, I can hear people talking, and it is hard to relax.

Firm-Hand-Buddha moves to the toy bag, which I can't really see. I notice that I can't see much really. The feet of those in front of me, and my hands and my breasts... oh great. I moan a bit in nervousness and embarrassment, and shift my weight a bit.

Then it begins.

That incredible dance of sensation. Impact on skin, nerve ending jumping, the tightening of all those sexy places. I can't relax, as I have to hold myself up. His hand sooths my skin once in awhile, and sounds come out of my mouth without my consent.

I am flying so quickly though, every sensation amazing. Heat gathers, he picks up tempo and force, stopping once and again to sooth, and he checks in, makes me check in.

I am lost in space with each sting, each thud. My body sings, I want more.. more more more.
He works my body like a magician, my Sir does. Slow when needed, hard and fast when needed, until I am a mess of I can't, I want, stop, more, harder, can't, want. I no longer care that everyone can see me struggle. I no longer care that I am thrashing and crying. I am the sensation. I am the nerve endings, I am that wetness between my legs.

Then... I am rudely thrust into my skin as I hear an unfamiliar voice beside me.. "Not like that, try this" or some such. No one's fault, but it startled me enough that I am instantly no longer subbed out. Endorphins rush out of my body and I feel that nasty drop rushing up. 'No no...' I think to myself, 'I am experienced, I can work through this..' I struggle to find that peacefulness, that joy and I just cannot.

No longer flying the next swat just hurts and I signal my Sir, my very attentive Sir who immediately realizes something is up. I try to tell him that I need to be done. and I burst into heart wrenching tears. The woman inside me rolls her eyes, but I don't care. My Sir will fix this I know it!!
Firm-Hand-Buddha undoes me, gently lifting me into his arms and wraps me up. I catch my breath, trying to explain, end up giggling and crying all at once. His arms tighten as he holds me, snugging me in.

He tells me how good I did and I feel so safe. So very safe and good and wonderful. Afterwards we laugh a bit about it. These things happen, it is interesting really what can ruin the mood for your scene.

Thank you Sir, for the incredible flight and the safety net you have created for me.
Thank you Lupercalia for all the work that went into creating our event and the dungeon. Thank you Bondage Jerry for being so deviously creative and letting the dungeon be filled with your handy work.

Thank you Firm-Hand-Buddha. Thank you for hurting me in all the right ways. Thank you for helping me grow. Thank you for not laughing when I asked for a collar. Thank you for not saying "I told you so" or some such.

Thank you for your strength and acceptance.

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!!

How did I get here?

It is amazing, the surprises that life can throw at us.  The good ones, of course, are much easier than the tragic ones, yet both can bring us to a cross roads where there are so many choices, every choice leading a different direction (it seems) and soooo hard at times to really know what choice will take is in what direction...

Years ago, I was perhaps a pure spanko.  All I wanted and fantasized about were spankings and the rituals that some spankings can be delivered with.  Being sent to the corner.  Waiting for a punishment.  The lecture... These things filled my head, made my soul tingle.  The spanking itself was almost secondary to the romance of it.

Then... I realized that knowing the only way to get a spanking was to be 'bad' was not beneficial to me.  I craved the spankings and the rituals so much that I was tempted to make bad choices in a way I would not have been otherwise. (To be clear, punishment has not been in my experience really, nor lectures, nor corner time.. sigh...)

Then I found the community.  Learned about so many other things and heard about endorphins, power exchange, reasons WHY spankings feel so damned good.

I got flogged.  I braved the cane.  I had to learn so much, accept so much.  I had to give up on needing everything to be perfectly labeled.  I had to learn to communicate my needs, to clearly set boundaries.

I learned that I am valued by those I play with.
I learned to weep.
I learned that i deserve to be spoiled.
I learned to have hope.
I learned that expectations are often a way to discover heartbreak.  That one day at a time is not necessarily a bad thing (aside from financial planning)

It has been a long road of discovery.  Some lessons were delicious (oh my good gracious.. subspace... oooh my)  Some were difficult. I learned that perhaps I actually like pain.  That I oh so do enjoy feeling helpless.  That the struggle to submit is amazing.  The amazing feeling when I can give up that unneeded pride and just ... submit.. wow.  I had to be OK with these new ideas.
Now.. hear I am.  So much has changed.  Yet somethings have not.  I top now, on occasion.  I have a lovely bunny girl that lets me tie her up and be mean to her, she is amazing.  I 'run' a group here in redneck land for kinksters like me.  I help them learn to do safely, I hope I am teaching them to be part of a community for each other and they teach me to not pigeon hole things or people.

But..

I am still a spanko at heart.  Being over a knee.  Being bossed.  Wondering if he is truly annoyed or mind fucking me... oh my.

This girl's heart still beats to a rhythm that sounds suspiciously like hand swatting an ass.. Just saying..

I am a Princess!

Princess:

prin·cess

 [prin-sis, -ses, prin-ses]

1.a nonreigning female member of a royal family.

2History/Historical . a female sovereign or monarch; queen.

3.the consort of a prince.

4.(in Great Britain) a daughter or granddaughter (if the child of a son) of a king or queen.

5.a woman considered to have the qualities or characteristics of a princess.

6. a woman who has value and worth as an individual, and as such is entitled to respect, attention, nurture and spankings.

(I added the last word)

Good Girls Get Spankings

Well, they should.  Or at least THIS good girl should.

LOTS and lots and lots and lots and lots of spankings.

It is a fine line to walk, between being a good girl who has a strong sense of justice and fairness, and being a girl that LOVES to be otk.  (over the knee). The more spankings I get the happier I am.  I prefer male spankers, being fairly hetero in my tastes.  Being able to be comfortable with my own prediliction for being manhandled and finding it erotic; while simultaneously whole heartedly believing in equality of value between genders is a fun but complex dance.

I am not ashamed by my enjoyment of it however.  Being spanked works for me.  I just flat out love it, I find it ertoic, relaxing, challenging, intellecutally mind blowing and it is intristic to my sexuality.
So... As I am a good girl by nature and would hate to turn into a girl that makes poor choices in order to get what she wants, my vote is:
Good Girls Get Spankings. And those spankings should be available as much as possible. :)

Sir RK and My Welcome Back Spanking

I just had to share, in true sassy fashion, a bit about my adventure at the Lupercalia on the second night.
As mentioned on my Lupercalia 2012 page, RK had already worn his energy down topping/doming two lovely young ladies before he grinned at me and beckoned me over.
I had been having a lovely time watching, and although he tried to get me nervous, I was way to confident, giddy and all too gleefullly eager. I scrambled over there, was quickly face down over the lovely bench (hello!! Santa?? I want one of those!!! wow!!!) and my wrists and ankles all secured, but barely.  Lots of wiggle room, but going nowhere-so very yummy.
Sir RK is a lovely Dom/Top, as he is very careful with warm up, patient, not sadistic but more about the experience.  Being in the dungeon was a bit intimidating, but the sounds actually had me half spacey before we did a darn thing.
It was FOREVER, of slightly faster, slightly harder, slightly stingier... I was all giggles and sighs of bliss until that damned cane was pulled out.  I am so scared of it!!
But... the whole point of the post is HAHAHAHA, This is the "can't tell you were there" photo from when I got up to the room: