Struggling

I am struggling.

For the last year (or nearly a year) I have had the great luck to be living with an amazing gent who shares in my pervy interests.  It has been the most blissful and joyous period of my life.

Over the last few weeks things have changed.  Be it me, be it him, we are not connecting on that power exchange level that fills me with self acceptance, joy, and that 'full cupboard' feeling.  We instead are more like room mates, passing in the hallway but yet not connected.  Play as decreased rapidly to its current state of non existence.

Have I once again broken a man?  I have taken a man who loved sex, loved to play laugh and cause me the most exquisite pain, and I have broken him.. I have turned him into (prepare yourself...)...


A muggle.


A muggle who wants a vanilla relationship with me (for now? forever? till I freak? not...sure...)
Once again, I have improved my personal self, only to find myself alone in a house with the person I am with.

First time (first marriage) I lost 55 lbs and started school.  My marriage went from rocky but passionate, to hellacious and empty.

Second time I gained my degree, found personal growth and my marriage disintegrated.

Now I am sitting here... after being so damned determined to NEVER do this again (this being share space, be in a hearts and flowers relationship) finding that as my life comes together even more (I am getting in shape, starting to make a bit more money, nearly done my BA) that his interest may have faded.

Sigh...

No clue where I am going from here... so many things to think about, so much to consider.

Can I be in a vanilla relationship?

Do I want to?

I really don't think I can.

I will tell you one thing that will be different this time.  This time I will be taking this to my Sir.  I will be sharing my hurt, my fear and my burden with him.

Incredible Journey: Sunday at Luper

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!!

When Reality Slaps you

Have you ever been so blissfully unaware that your perception did not match your partners, that an offhand comment from him/her is a cold slap of reality?

I have been living in a D/s relationship. A 24/7 sort of deal in which I have felt completely accepted for myself. i am loving it!

For the first time in my life I have felt that someone sees me, sees my submissive sexuality, my SAM (smart assed masochism), my compulsive need to have things 'just so', my need for control clashing for me need to submit.., that someone sees me and loves me, not in spite of these things, but because of these things...

I have never been this content, or this peaceful with myself. I have never been so relaxed about my perverse needs, my kinks, my sexuality. I have never been so self accepting.

So discovering that my perception, that he understood that my submission is part of how I tick, does not match his perception, was a hard slap that left me feeling lost, isolated and even rejected.
Seems silly now, of course, cuz it's only my knowledge that has changed... But silly or not, there I was feeling like the whole foundation for all that has been lifting me had crumbled, leaving me stranded in my own insecurities, lost in my own doubts. I felt helpless, alone and hurt.

I wept. I was afraid.

I don't want to put words in his mouth... I don't remember the exact words he said, and I am painfully aware that I do not know what he was thinking... But what I heard. what i translated his words to mean was...

Everything I feel is real is just play to him. So therefore (female brain, sigh) what is real to me, and has been holding me up is a lie. I am not accepted for who I am, I am not able to meet his needs, I am not enough. That my hidden self is just that, hidden. That he has not seen me. That he has expectations of me that I cannot meet. That I have failed. From there it was a short step to feeling rejected. I put myself out there, i had thought I had been accepted, but... If he is expecting me to drop my 'role', well in my feeling sorry for myself (and pms addled, let's not forget that) brain it seemed he was rejecting me. Not just rejecting me as in turning me down, but rejecting me for who I am.
Of course, we talked about it, after I got over myself a little. We established that my translation is not exactly accurate (lmfao). We talked a bit about the differences in our perceptions. He asked questions, I struggled to answer. He is an amazing man, really.

Now, to move forward i have to do what I wanted for myself. I have to SEE him and accept him for who he is, not a hard thing at all. But I also have to deal with my own doubts, a very hard thing indeed. I have to be ok with our differences in priorities and needs. I have to learn to be more... well.. less I guess... less submissive. Doable, right?

Nothing has changed, really, yet everything has. And it is impossible to know if that is good...
or not.



Update:
We are working on this together.  I think this is amazing, really, that we can face these bumps together, when I just share my thoughts.  Even when my words carry pain, he listens patiently.  Even when we are both struggling with so many other things, he is there, listening. 

He and I define terms differently.. soon we will be working on building our own definitions, together.  

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

The Sweetest Submission

It is the sweetest thing, this submission


Doing those things you ask, be they large or small, direct orders or comments on what interests you,

comments that you make in passing- doing those tasks and seeing your glee in my compliance,

feeling your joy in my obedience, your approval in my joy in doing as asked.. oh my....

this submission is the sweetest feeling.


Knowing that you ask for nothing you will regret me doing.
That you ask for nothing that I will regret doing.... And I do know this, Sir.
Knowing that you ask of me to merely give you the responsibility of my submission to you,

that you DO see it as a responsibility-always considering how I will react, if it will benefit me-
it is the sweetest of feelings.


You grin with glee when I blush, when I am oh so slightly mortified, and even that makes me happy!

That such small embarrassments are seen by you as a gift from me, and that you treasure my blushes

rather than seeing them as a weakness. I find myself looking forward to those moments of squidgy blushes,
knowing you adore them.


The look of pride you have when you help me grow and learn, when together we move forward past a
roadblock, melts me. I strive to grow to see that look, to know that you are proud.


Your assurance that you see me, you note my efforts, my growth, my willingness.. that constant reassurance
and coddling feeds me strength to trust when it is kinda scary, to still submit when it is embarrassing,

to speak up when I have questions. You lift me and build me up so sweetly.. How can I not respond to that?


The weight of your eyes on me as you play me, as you drink in every sound you wring from me, as you weigh

every movement I make in response to your tender mercies fuels those very sounds and motions, your craving
for my reactions strengthen my response, a never ending cycle that leaves me a trembling, spaced out,

submissive mess with no thought but your joy in me.


Hearing you say those words, phrases I had believed to be mean, rude, crass, arrogant, dismissive... but yet

you say them with such warmth, such tangible heat, such gentleness and glee, that I crave the sound of them

passing your lips.. oh Sir, you make this submission so sweet.


One look, showing me that you do NOT approve, shatters me. Gentle as the reprimand of that look is, I feel it,

I know. I strive to not ever see that look again.


Knowing how seriously you take my words, how you strive to grow, to include my interests in your fast growing
list of skills, the care and attention you apply to learning of me, the glee you take in using what you learn.....

it leaves me helpless, eagerly looking for opportunities to to show that I cherish that gift, Sir, that you give-in
allowing me to submit to your gentle and erotic will, teaching me to trust in you and in myself, showing me

that submission is, really, truly, a thing of sweetness...


Thank you Sir... for this gift, this sweetest submission...

Accidental Submission

I am the only person who can choose, willingly and openly, to seek out a NSA (no strings attached) playmate and accidentally end up in what certainly feels like a very intense service to a Dominant.

It's accidental submission...

There I was, you see, wandering around, minding my own business, after some local and mild playtime (you know, some princessy spoiling, now that I am a high maintenance attention whore) and lots of spankings..Met a gent after some mild negotiating... very clear we both were.. NSA, not looking to just hook up-friendship, talking, cuddling yes please.. NSA NSA NSA (and yes!! I was thrilled!! I am not relationship material! I just am not!!)

And here I am three days later, sorta accidentally submitted to someone that sorta accidentally dominated, sorta accidentally for three days and now??

Now here I am, strangely unafraid, wierdly not too worried (HAHAHAHAHA where are those damned runners?) with only one little bitty spanking-and yet he has somehow become My Sir and I his sub..

There are phrases being used that should have me running like hell.  (WHAT? I am NOT  "A Sub" I just get kinda submissive when spanked...oh wait... there was no spanking to blame... )

Speaking of which.. Anyone that has spanked me, talked to me about spanking, read my writing or watched me get spanked knows that spanking just flat out does it for me.  It just does. 

I would have said, that spanking would be my pre-rquisite.. (hahah, I ammend that to say , I do and certainly have insisted that) That any playmate of mine had best be offering spankings... Yet... hours and hours of play later, I have had one very small spanking last night) from my Sir who has never had a gal over his knee (How can anyone who has NEVER played this way be so damned natural at it?) and I am still a smling, glowy mess.

Friend "So how was your non date?"

Me "It was quite yummy.. Kinda D/s...Well ok.. Very D/s"
 
Friend "oooh! Nice!  Good Spanker?"

Me "Dunno..  Not sure it matters." *grinz*

Friend "um.. thought this was a spanking friend?"

Me " Me too, but I kinda accidentally ended up submissive to his dominant... "

Friend. ."What? Accidentally? You make it sound like you slipped off his lap and landed on a D/s contract."

Me. "...."

Flirting.. Blushing.. Oh My

Is it just me? Or is the flirting and talking that leads up to a meeting almost (and sometimes equal or more) as much fun as the kinky playtime meet?
Those sexy words, flirty comments, provocative phrases and threats, all making me tingle, a blush spreading across my skin.  I smile, giggle, have bounce in my step.
I wait, hoping for another message... Heart pounding when my phone beeps "oooh I have mail!!!"  Like a teenager with her first crush, my thoughts fill with possibilities, some from my own twisted imagination, some fueled by your words, your unique blend of remdiners of what has happened already and what you intend to happen in the future...You 'get' me well enough to know what gets me going... the mere promise of trouble, a naughty word, a shaerd experience.. oh ..oh..oh.. my...
Vivid pictures fill my mind, my face flames 'three shades of red' my heart piter patters, my breath catches in my throat and I tingle.. nipples tightening, all this yummy flirtatious talk making me wet, eager and giddy...
All that with an email.. A text...
Oh yum... I love the flirting and leading up.  Yes Sir, i do!

To Submit or Not to Submit

To Submit or Not to Submit,
That is the question

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of honest self exposed

Or to take wit against a sea of dominants

And by so opposing, so to repel them. To falsely resist, to gently submit--

No more--and by resist to say we end

The obedience, and the thousand natural submissions

That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished, silently feared. To falsely resist, to gently sumbit--

To submit--perchance to risk: ay, there's the rub,

For in that risk of exposed self what dreams may come

When we have our shields dismissed, our soul bare,

Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes calamity of so habitual resistance

For who would bear the ropes and whips of demands,

Th' submissive's wrong, the proud Dominant's contumely

The pangs of unaccepted love, the truth's delay,

The insolence of false resistance, and the spurns

That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,

When she herself might her submission make

With a bared soul? Who would uphold yet bare,

To moan and tremble under a patient hand,

But that the dread of something after exposure,

The undiscovered truths, from whose bourn

No falseness returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those false truths we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resistance

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of fear,

And enterprise of gentle pain and release

With this regard their shame turns them awry

And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now,

The fair Dominant! -- Sirrah, in thy knowing hands

Be all my weaknesses forgiven.

Princess Spanking Weekend omfg...

This is going to be a long post, lol...
So I returned yesterday from my journey and adventure to the grand city of E.  And it truly was an adventure...in so many ways.:)

I have never taken a road trip before, in which I am the driver.  This of course, did not really occur to me until I was nearly to the city of GP and realized that I had done it!! ALL by MYSELF!! I imagine that not many people will get just what a victory that is, but  it really was.  Hurrah for big girl panties. 
The drive was lovely.  The sun was shining for the most part, I saw a mommy moose and her overly large offspring near DC, another large moose by GP and a couple of lovley scenic views. My MP3 player was blasting, I was singing and had the cruise set for under the speed limit. I saw many officers pulling people over and was grateful that I am a cowardly driver.  I had no troubles following the directions and navigated my way quite nicely.

I was burning gas though, which of course annoys me greatly, but still... small potatoes, right?  I made the stops I had arranged, and headed to my weekend of fun.
I nearly made my destination when my lovely vehichle chose to no longer have a working transmission. Thank fully I had stopped for the restroom and was not driving when the transmission chose to no longer be intact. I am not sure if anyone knew this, but a vehicle does not drive well without one. 

Just saying.

It made awful metal on metal grinding noises, lurched but did not move. I sat and weighed my options, wondering what to do, exactly.  Fairly certain that popping the hood in my thigh high stockings and short skirt was not the best idea, and being that it was late thursday of the easter long weekend, I sighed sadly in defeat...  I had to call the gentleman I was meeting to come and get me.

What a way to meet a lady, no?  "Hello! I am a complete and utter nitwit who can't even get to your house... how hot am I now?"  (sigh). I sat at that station long enough to earn some highly curious looks from the folk that were there, as I tried to will my car to fix itself.  I am not sure if this is an 'angelism' but I am quite terrible at being helpless. I did suck it up and text my new playmate for help.

Thankfully the gentleman in question (I am going to call him Sir OCD until he gives me a play name to use, because us princesses are bratty like that! :)... ) anyways, Sir OCD was very gentlemanly and thus did not laugh (too much) nor hold my woes against me, but navigated the broken car into a stall, gathered me and my many bags and chafeured me to his lovely home with an amazing smile, gentle hand up into the truck and warm hug.

If anyone knows this man, let him know that this alone is worth many points... truly appreciate it.

I will not kiss and tell tooooo much (because that is of course quite rude) However....Some things are just too magical to not share.

What an amazing weekend!! After being worried about going (so out of my comfort zone, really) and being reassured that this could be done safely, I found myself loving every princess moment of the weekend. (aside from teh transmission)

Sir OCD graciously had me in his home for a few days, chilavrously made all the arrangements for my vehicle, was able to keep my mind off of it for the majority of our time together, which speaks for itself really. Consider too, how focused I can get on things... So Kudos Sir OCD well played.   He drove me back and forth to RK's with nary a complaint. Not by word, gesture or even expression. Not once made me feel as if I was intruding. 

With an engaging smile, dinners were cooked for me (as I write this I am eating chili from a can and wondering if he rents out as a chef... good grief, I have NEVER eaten so well and yet so healthily at the same time.... I want to learn to cook like that...)  I was complimented, cuddled, petted, kissed and coddled till I was completely princessed out. Not once was I asked to clean anything or even in a position to open a door for myself.  I was allowed to bask in the attention, purr for the petting and kissing, with not one negative comment.  NOT ONE!!! I struggled a bit (Stop laughing my red headed gal pal... I mean it) with it-not used to being coddled lol.

I thought I had experienced being a princess, but I now know I had no idea.  Simply none.  Don't get me wrong!! I have all kinds of good memories to go with the not so good ones of past relationships... but my weekend at Sir OCDs certainly redefined what being spoiled and adored feels like. This spoiling healed some hurts I hadn't realized I was still carrying. 

I have never eaten so well, been treated so sweetly, kissed so gently and spanked so firmly.... I was giggling, blushing, astonished and bowled over...All that and a lavishment of attention, amazing conversation, a down duvet (omg I oh so want that... ) waking up to sunshine on my face... It was like going to a spa where a hottie is giving out amazing spankings... Realy ladies, I oh so reccomend you try it...

Even the spanking, which you all know is my favorite passtime, was completely out of my realm of experience.  Every excuse to take me over his knee was delivered with the most amazingly open grin, an oh so heart achingly gentle hand guiding me over his knee, the gentle firmness of that hand at my hip, offering the threat of restraint if needed... each swat with purpose, but not even the tiniest bit of force used that was more than needed... the strength contrasted with such tender care to be lifted so carefully, cuddled in and petted.. I nearly fainted...Of course, those deceptively calm swats intensified as time went by, both as we became more comfortable and as my poor backside became more sensitive... His hands just seeming to know how to and where to swat to maximize the time or reaction-depending on what he was looking for... oh my. 

Yet after three days of spankings, many of which had me kicking my feet and struggling to get a hand free, (anyone that thinks this isn't surprising can ask RK... really.. I am not a struggler)... barely a mark.... Wow, hey?  I have a new hated spanking implement, which is a plastic bath brush... Sir OCD, that really needs to go... truly... what a mean thing...I liked it on a fresh backside.. but not after the fourth or fifth spanking...*pout* If you decide you want to get together again, I am oh so bringing you a gift..  Perhaps a Furry Paddle? *laugh*

And to be stepping out of the shower and have Sir OCD appear and lovingly place my still wet self over his knee, with his foot resting on the side of the tub for a good morning, wet bottom spanking was beyond amazing... One of those always fantasized about silly things that just was perfect in real life... wow.  Seriously!!! Wet bottom not quite out of the tub spaknings!!! I kid you not!!!! For no reason!!
To be kissed so sweetly as I am told what a brat I am, kissed so sweetly after a spanking, kissed so sweetly and thanked for any smallest effort.. oh my.  And don't mistake me, sweet does not mean the opposite of yummy... just that I have no words for that kissing style.. none...Sweet is the closest I can come up with... utterly tender? Kisses that left me breathless, knees weak and eyes in teh back of my head.   And I am not a kissy girl!!! Or I guess I wasn't? I mean, I like to kiss, but holy shit... LMFAO.. wow.

Hands stroking my tush, my legs, my back, my hair, my belly, my arms... sweet goddess... The contrast of tender and firm nearly undid me a few times...ok.. I admit it.. nearly is just a way to pretend I am not blushing beet red at the mere memory.. Just... oh ... so ... yummy...

Aside from a short break in which I visited some lovely friends, From my arrival thrusday till I left sunday morning Sir OCD lavished attention on me, spoiled me and spanked me until I was a puddle of dreamy eyed princess wonder. How amazing is that?

"But at the end of the day" (grin, do I get trouble now?) I was glowing with the attention, Postiviely giddy, glowing and relaxed.   I was sleeping like a log (and we will pretend that I do NOT snore thank you) and waking up with a bright smile.  More important, though (and this is oh so funny) is that I learned that I DO have it in me to adore being treated as if I am adored.  That there are men who cherish, give of themselves freely.

I have hope.. hope that there is a future for me that includes romance, love, flowers, spoiling, spankings, amazing fun and good conversation.  I really hadn't thought such things could go hand in hand... I mean... romance and spoiling AND rules and spanking?? really????
Sweetness and firmness?
Openness but with limits?
 I am spoiled quite beyond recognition, truly and my eyes have been opened up to just how.... bitter I was letting myself get.  Which is ok, I earned that bitterness I think...but I can let that go now... and work on moving forward instead of having all these regrets and hurts, cynicisms and being so self reliant that I don't allow anyone in... and therefore cut myself off from living a full life...

Now I just need to work on meeting some of my own goals... of getting RK&f paid back for the rescue and making sure that I am striving towards being a very whole and healthy person who is able to bring more than a willing bottom and naive grin.  And I oh so will...Knowing that the tenderhearted part of me is NOT broken is priceless..
Not what was negotiated for, so that part is an incredible gift that was so unexpected.
So thanks Sir... for letting me experience such amazingly delicious tenderness, such incredible spankings all from your very wonderful self... I fell in love a wee bit, like I said, and for that I thank you too! You made this princess believe in romance, and that is one hell of a gift.
xxx