The Adventures of Spanko Girl

It's Part of What We Do, Naughty One

2006-05-11T23:33:00.000-04:00

Hiya Professor!

Thanks for today. I know it probably wasn't your dream spanking session, but obviously I needed what we did. I guess this is part of what we do isn't it?

Another cool example of melding fantasy and reality. Spanking sessions as therapy... :)

I am not sure what I am going to do about my dad, but talking about it helped. Talking about stuff with you usually does help though....

Anyway, thanks for today.

~Your Naughty One

Sometimes a spanking doesn't right my world. Sometimes a spanking isn't enough to make me let go. Sometimes a spanking session doesn't make me more open, trusting, more inclined to be intimate... or even wipe away whatever is eating me from the inside.

Sometimes a spanking session with Professor becomes less about spanking and more about talking, whether I want it to or not. There is a big difference between "want" and "need". I am glad he can see it when I can't.

Hello Naughty One,

Yes, yesterday is part of what we do: spanking therapy. I was happy with yesterday's session.

Be good.

- Your Spanking Therapist

Swoony Searches

2006-05-10T22:13:00.000-04:00

"Doing a search on Google is easy. Simply type one or more search terms (the words or phrase that best describe the information you want to find) into the search box and hit the 'Enter' key or click on the Google Search button." ~Google Help

I want to thank those readers who have used some wonderfully descriptive search terms to stumble upon this blog.

Swoon on...

exquisite pain
spanking my girl
sore bottoms
hairbrush howl bare
punishment spanking
spanking disciplinarian
girls bending over for the cane
spanking bath brush
schoolgirl ruler spanked
pantied bottoms
afterglow spanking

And some of my favorites?

I couldn't help but expand on them a little. These little fantasy bits practically wrote themselves with a lot of help from some very descriptive and kinky Googlers:

The Fairchild Young Women's Academy makes extensive use of corporal punishment. Our girls are spanked hard on their bare bottoms regularly...

She stood waiting outside the Headmaster's office, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt. People filed past and looked knowingly that this girl was in trouble...

"Sometimes the anticipation of a punishment is much worse than the punishment itself", she whispered to the girl sitting next to her on the bench. "Oh, is that so?" He asked, standing in the doorway to his office, while he slowly rolled the sleeves of his white cotton shirt...

Tugging on her waistband, he yanked down her gym shorts and bared her bottom, smacking it soundly as she tried desperately to twist her arm out of his iron grip...

He brought the cane down over and over again, leaving thin white lines of burning fire on her naughty bottom. She leaned hard over the chair, gasping for air, ...

She stood sobbing in the corner, soundly spanked and remorseful, her skirt pinned up, her panties still pooled around her ankles...

"Get the strap and meet me in the woodshed." She gaped at him open mouthed before turning slowly to fetch the thick leather strap hanging on a peg behind the door....

She looked at the welts on her bottom left by the strap in a mirror, and watched him trace the outline of each fading mark with his fingertips. "Did you learn your lesson?" His voice purred in her ear and she nodded slowly,murmuringg "Yes, Sir" as the wide strip of leather slid over her punished cheeks...

Musings of an Approval Masochist

2006-05-04T09:33:00.000-04:00

I was thinking about the fact that I am very stoic during a spanking. Actually, I am very stoic during the entire spanking scene. I listen carefully, try to do exactly what is expected of me, and genuinely take to heart whatever lesson is being taught during both punishment and roleplay.

Professor says that I am "approval masochist". That I seek his approval like another masochist might seek humiliation. I think that is pretty accurate. I especially get off on earning his approval after falling from grace. Strange, that.

I think my need to be a good girl in our dynamic is why I can take roleplay so seriously even though it isn't real. My feelings and need to please Professor are very real and transcend every situation, fantasy or not.

There are two very distinct sides to me. On one hand, I am reckless, independent, impulsive, rebellious... a "color outside the lines" sort... willingly challenging authority. And yet within the kink? I don't get any pleasure from resisting. I won't kick, scream... fight to keep my power. I willingly submit and it is freeing for me. I like the power exchange part of it and am perfectly happy not being in control for a while.

That being said, have I ever craved the chance to defy? To be openly defiant just to see what would happen? Yes. Have I ever wondered what it would be like to fight to keep my power only to have it forcefully taken... just because Professor can? Sure. Its been there, another part of me bubbling beneath the surface... a "what would happen if I" at odds with my deeper need to please.

A new roleplay maybe? I dunno. I also wonder, because I am such an approval masochist if in this case, my occasional defiance fantasy should stay just that... a fantasy.

Roleplay: A Playground for the Creative Spanko Mind

2006-05-03T22:35:00.000-04:00

I was thinking about roleplay and why I enjoy it so much, as well as why for me, it is more than just play acting. I was also thinking about what it takes to create a good roleplay. I imagine this will end up being a series of posts rather than just one because I have done quite a bit of thinking on the subject and I am sure that will translate into quite a bit of verbiage ;)

So why roleplay? What's in it for me? For us?

Roleplay is about freedom.

I know for some, playing a role, someone other than themselves, may seem silly or "too fake". The idea of dressing up in a short plaid skirt and being spanked like a schoolgirl may seem foolish. But I love roleplays, especially those that by the nature of their dynamic, hit my major emotional and psychological triggers.

Roleplay gives me freedom...it allows me to express myself. In my daily life I am confined to various roles... personality characteristics that represent just *part* of who I am. I am confined to a particular role with my family, peers, and in my community. Getting out of my usual role frees me from the inhibitions and baggage that goes with it.

Am I saying that the inhibitions or baggage associated with my "regular life" are bad? No... what I am saying is that I, like most, have a multidimensional personality and roleplay affords me the opportunity to express those other parts of myself... my inner parts that I have a harder time expressing. It releases me from the restrictions *I* put on myself in my daily life.

Why is it that children dream of being fairy princesses... brave knights fighting fearsome dragons... racecar drivers in the Indy 500? Because it is fun...fantasy is fun and because they get to be something they aren't in real life. They get to exhibit behaviors and "try on" characteristics associated with those roles.

And adult role play? Well similarly, it gives me the chance to be someone else - without all the difficulties of actually changing my life. I get to play a character with traits I want to explore, I can pick and choose the characteristics and attributes that suit my desires, and discard the rest. And I can do it for a finite period of time.

Roleplay can make me feel strong, powerful... and right.

There isn't a lot of room for insecurity in roleplay. Fantasies may seem too weird, too kinky, too wrong, too abnormal and it takes courage to own them, speak them out loud and ultimately, indulge in them. The wonderful thing about roleplay is that it is fantasy, not reality and being able to share it with someone who "gets it"... well, that's pretty damn cool.

Roleplaying is a way for me to say it out loud.

Finding Professor was a big self esteem builder because I found someone who not only listened to my "weird, kinky needs" but also shared them. He made me feel normal... confident that my kink was okay... that I was okay.

Roleplaying allows me to express my inner self. It allows me to bring my kinky fantasies out into the light, examine them... indulge in them... in a safe and non threatening environment.

Roleplaying can be therapeutic.

Now, I wouldn't advise everyone to use the kink as a cheap form of therapy, but it can be better than a self help book. My need for caring authority? Punishment and cleaning the slate? I have always said that I am in the process of growing into myself. Roleplay has afforded me the opportunity to examine things about myself and has offered parts of me the chance to heal.

Roleplay is sex for the brain.

Choosing a character. Setting the scene. Deciding on appropriate props. A good roleplay takes work and creativity. It requires imagination. Practice. And communication.

I love to think... to brainstorm... to analyze. I like figuring out what makes people tick... what gets my groove on. I revel in the subtle details of a good scene, the work it takes beforehand, the eventual blending of real life and fantasy. It's about intensity. Communication. Trust. Testing limits. Mental attraction.

One of the many reasons Professor rocks my world? His ability to roleplay. He is very good at it. He puts a lot of time and effort into making a scene that leaves me breathless. And he does it well. That in itself makes me swoon.

Engaging the brain enhances the physical sensation of spanking.

Roleplay gives me an afterglow for days.

Spanking roleplay is like walking into your own secret garden... a place where time stops. It is the very best of the kink; the fantasy... the thrill... the excitement. It builds intimacy, makes memories and gives two people something very personal to share.

Why do I love roleplay?

Because it is amazing and swoony, and challenging and exciting. Because it is healing. Because it is creative. Because it is something different. Because it can be so good, seem so real, be so intense that for the time being, you manage to lose yourself in it. Because it is fun, that's why.

Report to the Headmaster's Office

2006-04-30T02:43:00.000-04:00

Dearest Friend,

Happy Holidays to you and yours!

I hope the holiday season brings you good things and all the gifts of the season... truly!

I was just going through all these old boxes up in the attic and came across a lot of old school memorabilia, yearbooks, and all the other junk I kept from our time at Fairchild. I actually found an old school uniform! It took a while for me to sort everything out and figure out what to keep and what to throw away - it has been so long since I've seen anyone from the Academy. Do you still keep in touch with anyone?

The reason that I am writing is because I came across one of your albums by mistake (goodness, to think I've had it in my attic all that time...) and so I decided it would be prudent of me to return your album to you, even after all these years. I don't know if you are the sentimental sort to still keep things from school or not. :)

You know, going through all the junk, it made me remember with such fondness our times together - you were my best friend in our time there and my sanity! I can still recall all our demerits and our times in detention - I'm lucky they never threw me out! I've missed you throughout the years and I miss my time at Fairchild. Do you?

Speaking of old school memories, do you know what ever happened to Professor Stephen, the Headmaster of the place? Funny, after all these years, I look back upon my time at Fairchild and remember him fondly, strict bastard that he was! The last anyone had heard, he found a post at a woman's college or something out of state. I wonder where he is or if any of the alumni committee would know how to find him again.

Anyhow, lovely to write you and think of you again! Please keep in touch and share some of your memories if you wish...

Still being good after all these years,

Your fellow Fairchild alum

My Dear Friend,

It is wonderful to hear from you! Imagine my surprise when I opened the simple brown paper wrapped package that was delivered to my doorstep this morning. I have been flipping through the old school album you returned and enjoying every moment spent skipping down memory lane.

I, too miss our alma mater, from that giant oak tree in the center of the quad that shaded us while we spent hours avoiding our school work, to the second floor balcony window of the library - the after dinner perch for two gossiping girls. Oh, we did have fun, didn't we? I am simply amazed that we managed to fit enough time into our busy schedules for something as mundane as school work. We were a handful!

I heard from Ellie Parker that our esteemed Headmaster is still maintaining order and turning out disciplined young ladies at a private school somewhere in Connecticut. Poor Professor Stephen, I think of him from time to time and have considered sending him some sort of correspondence, but I am not quite sure whether I should thank him for just being who he was, or apologize for all my years of naughtiness! What a pair we were!

I still remember the day you and I met as clearly as if it were yesterday. We met in the hall as I was leaving the Headmaster's office and you were sitting on that horrid old bench just outside his door. Do you remember that bench? We certainly spent enough time waiting there...

**Click on the Fairchild paddle to go to The Fairchild Young Women's Academy

**Click on the links below to download audio roleplay

Report to the Headmaster's office (No spanking - lecture only)

Come Here, Miss Hastings (Handspanking and lecture)

Go get the paddle, Young Lady (Very swoony paddling and lecture)

Falling down the rabbit hole

2006-04-28T21:20:00.000-04:00

I have the most delicious roleplay. It makes me sort of trembly to think about it. We played yesterday... we played a scene that touched both of our cores, and to make it even better, he mixed real life and fantasy... used real life transgressions to enhance a wonderfully swoony schoolgirl scene.

If there is one thing that thrills me above all else... one thing that sends shivery tingles skipping down my spine... it is a well done roleplay. I love immersing myself in a good fantasy ... that feeling of slipping away... that free fall feeling down the rabbit hole when a scene is so rich with detail, so slowly and lovingly developed... so carefully crafted by one who knows just how to manipulate your senses, your psyche... your headspace... that you lose yourself in it, because he knows you so well.

The mental tweaking... the subtle crafting of a psychological and physical experience that envelopes you in such a way that you become part of it, suddenly swept along, as it changes you... leaving its mark...

This particular role play owes itself to a certain friend of mine... a journey pal... a fellow kinkster who, this past Christmas, gave me a gift that managed to touch the very essence of my spanko core, leaving me breathless and gasping for air.

Part of the gift was an album... a student's school album, complete with a history of the school (using information from Professor's Fairchild site), memories gleaned from my writings as well as other school oriented tokens. There were various implements included in the package... crops, canes, straps, etc. And then there was the letter... a wonderful letter from one former Fairchild alum to another.

And so, Professor and I used this holiday gift as our spanking muse... a kinkofied spring board... and did a roleplay, a swoony Fairchild roleplay just for this dear friend... and we made an audio recording.

I originally wanted to do a brief intro... something like what I just wrote before launching into a written preface to "set the scene" so to speak for our audio blog.

But, I think I will leave this post as is...the "reality" part.

A person's initial meeting with a white rabbit should stand on its own, don't you think?

So tomorrow then, Poiesia ;)

A Work in Progress

2006-04-26T23:00:00.000-04:00

I haven't posted in a while. I know I have a lot of catching up to do, spankings to recount, a bit of "speaking up" to do... basically I have some things to wrap up.

My absence can partially be blamed on a recent household addition of the four legged kind with an apparent penchant for electrical cords. We got another dog to keep AFP company, and he snores. Loudly. He doesn't bark. Ever. But he snores like a buzz saw and chews incessantly. Legos, shoes, the eyes off stuffed animals...flip flops... plastic dinosaurs and electrical cords... he chews it all.

He ate my laptop cord, happily... while it was still plugged into the wall. Hence my absence while said cord was being replaced. I think his alias on here will be Ohm. Somehow, it suits him.

I get spanked tomorrow. Its partly a carrot spanking and partly a stick spanking. We are doing a swoony roleplay (the carrot part) that I am longing to write about, but I will have to save that for another time. Maybe tomorrow evening. Oh yeah, but before we get to do the role play tomorrow afternoon, we have "a talk" to take care of (the stick part). The stick part has to do with procrastination and for not doing something I was told to do. More on that later as well...

The rest of this is long winded... analysis ridden... bordering on new age-ish... but I needed to get it on paper.

Consider yourself warned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Growing into myself...

I say that a lot, don't I? It is sort of a Naughtyopath catch phrase.

So what does it mean, exactly?

I have been told I am a young soul... my soul, fresh - still wet behind the ears, wonderfully naive and child-like in its openness.

You are a young soul, Naughty One... striving on noise, chaos, excess... an unstructured thing...

Yup, I'll buy that.

A young soul.

I certainly feel like a young soul much of the time, stumbling headlong through life with an insatiable need to know... constantly searching in an overly earnest attempt to make better sense of me... who I am... who I want to be, and how that person fits in this curious thing called life.

I think that is what I mean by "growing into myself". It is symbolic of a journey, my larger journey... and it is a battle cry... my "conscious growth" mantra.

Have you ever noticed that most of our ah ha! moments happen to us rather than us making them happen? We make forward progress in life because life has a way of pushing us forward, willing or not. Rarely is it the result of our own conscious choice... or even initiative for that matter.

Instead, throughout life, growth happens in fits and starts, unpredictably, sometimes through happy experiences and often through unhappy or painful experiences... as well as catharsis. At least that is how it seems to me.

My battle cry... my self defining catch phrase was the best "there has gotta be a better way" answer I could come up with (during one of my moments of quiet clarity when I wasn't busying myself by getting lost in the trees) to what I noticed to be a rather inefficient, unpredictable, life-meandering process... which I think some refer to as "unconscious growth."

Growing into myself is about conscious growth. It is about careful, calculated, "I know what I want to be when I grow up... the kind of person I want to be; now I just need to know how to get there" type growth.

So what does this rambly thought process (and it is about to get more rambly I am afraid) have to do with Spanko Girl?

The more conscious you are in your growth process, the more quickly you grow.

I would suppose you could say I am taking stock in things... reflecting. I am pausing to think about my personal growth... reviewing what I have learned.

A couple of years ago, a while after I had my revelatory a-ha! there has got to be a better way moment... a plan was put into motion... a plan that stemmed from my early and rather vague notions of who or what I wanted to be. At the time I didn't see the plan... the overall picture... I only had sight of what I wanted to grow into and the miles of forest between me and that very distant goal. I only had sight of my starting point.

Since that time I have found direction... and have managed to break down my far off and seemingly unattainable vision into a series of specific goals and worked consciously and conscientiously to achieve them. There have been bumps and stalls along the way, and some lessons I have had to learn twice, even three times but amazingly enough, I can now see that the series of goals... not only did they make a hard thing seem easier (the ultimate top down design, Professor... you do practice what you teach, don't you?) but they in their own right have amplified, enhanced my original vision. For example, by consciously following a set of higher rules, I have, by default, become a more ethical person, thus adding depth and dimension to the character of the person I hope to become.

I have also found that the distance between me and my vision is not as vast as I thought. Am I close to achieving my ultimate goal? Am I close to becoming what I want to be when I grow up? Hardly. That's the most ironic part of it all actually. I am and always will be a work in progress.

A work in progress.

That's okay by me, you know. It's one of the things I have learned along the way. Growth happens during the process. Not haphazard, fitful growth that requires alot of emotional effort, though. This is conscious growth... growth that occurs as I make a determined effort to achieve each of my smaller goals to the best of my abilities. As I do my best... as I strive to fulfill the plan set out for me... it is the work I do, the effort I put in, that brings me one step closer to growing into myself.

Tantalizing...

2006-04-03T21:22:00.000-04:00

I know, I know... I have been a very naughty girl. I have neither posted nor responded to recent comments in several days. I promise to reccount last week's session with Professor and get caught up with all other things of a blog type nature asap...

Until then, these used-to-be-vanilla-stock-photos-but-have-been-kinkified-by-a-naughty-pics are to build anticipation for two very special people in my life... you know who you are ;)

Swoon on...

Killing Me Softly

2006-03-30T22:05:00.000-05:00

I am not the kind of masochist who likes to be used. I don't like to be slapped cruelly, degraded, treated like an animal... called a whore. My form of masochism is a different breed of masochism... it has a softer side...it is tied to approval... acceptance... unconditional love, but I can't seem to give it an appropriate name.

Do you want me to feel pain? Do you want me to suffer? Tell me you care about me... call me your little girl... then tell me you are disappointed in me... that you "didn't raise me that way"... and then watch my heart bleed.

It's about killing me softly.

In my relationship with Professor I am many things; friend, mentee, fellow kinkster, student, confidant... spankee. And I am also something else... Naughty One. His Naughty One.

It is this part of me... this seemingly small but very important part that is, for lack of a more descriptive word, my keystone. It is this part that supports the weight of the whole... the part that absorbs the pressure of the rest...the key that keeps me in place. It is my "inner me".

It is a part that is cloistered away deep inside... small and hidden from everyone but Professor... and at times, can be so needful that it influences my behavior, alters my perceptions, effects my daily life.

I have always felt like some sort of fractured being... that there were several distinct "me's". At times I could be strong, fearless, confident... adult like... in charge and ready to take on the world. At other times I was weak, vulnerable... child like and I never seemed to be able to reconcile the parts.

The vulnerable part? My "inner me". The part that craves acceptance. Discipline. Unconditional love. The part that fuels my need for a father figure. And it is this part that is directly tied to my form of masochism. I want to be a good girl. I want to be good in order to win Professor's esteem.

There is so much more that I want to say... need to explore... but I am tired and sore. I am well punished, forgiven and reflective. Today was as much emotional and psychological as it was physical.

I want to talk more about my spanking journey... the way it has been woven from fabric based partly in fantasy and partly in real emotional need. I want to talk more about the Disciplinarian who has taken a mutual desire for spanking and used it as a tool to provide a stable and loving environment within which his Naughty One could finally grow up. But I am spent and my thoughts are disorganized. They need to be thinned out a bit before they are ready for reader consumption, and I am much too tired to do it now.

I think I'll go to bed instead.

Like a good girl.

I Accept Full Responsibility (Except That It's Not My Fault, And You Shouldn't Discipline Me)

2006-03-29T17:18:00.000-05:00

Did you know that April 13th is Blame Someone Else Day?

Hrm.

I get spanked tomorrow. Professor and I have exactly two things on the list to "talk" about and one of them concerns a Naughty One and a scene in a fast food restaurant... and both of them involve the theme of doing what's right... and anger management.

Do you ever have those moments... those moments where your inner child wins and you just really don't want to accept responsibility for something? So you do all sorts of rationalizing to explain recent actions?

Well... It wasn't really my fault. I may have over reacted a bit that day in MacDonald's as I stood coldly... angrily... and used my quick wit and gift of gab to completely eviscerate the unlucky soul who had the misfortune of making a nasty comment to my kid.

It's not my fault.

It's not my fault I got angry. It's not my fault I lost my temper. It's not my fault she was an idiot and made the choice to step over my line in the sand. It's not my fault that she chose to provoke me rather than just apologize and move on.

I over reacted...but she didn't give me a choice.
I admit my response was not measured or appropriate... but she started it.
I am accepting responsibility for my actions, but it wasn't my fault and you shouldn't discipline me...

And at this moment I am being a complete ass because deep down I know better than to make excuses... because you taught me better than that, didn't you? Yeah.

So tomorrow, despite my childish need to avoid... trivialize... place blame on someone other than myself, in the end I will do the responsible thing... the hard thing... the right thing...the adult thing.

And all the while I will be upended over your knee, getting spanked... like a naughty little girl.

Ironic? Yes...

And oh-so-comforting.

See you tomorrow, Professor.

Eye of the Beholder

2006-03-27T21:48:00.000-05:00

I came across this photo while searching a stock photo database for a project I am working on. The caption was "Businessman rolling up his sleeves and getting to work". Of course in my naughty little head, the words "I am going to spank your bottom, Young Lady", seemed more accurate...

Doesn't it make your stomach flip flop a bit?

Ohhhhh, the fantasy potential. Swoon ;)

Watchful Attention

2006-03-26T00:58:00.000-05:00

I have missed you lately... I have missed you for a while.

Lately life has had a way of keeping us apart. Not physically though... oh, we've had spanking sessions, talked on the phone, exchanged emails, but life for him has been hard... hectic... and draining for the last couple months.

I have been there for him as friend, spankee, confidant, and stress reliever... but not as his Naughty One. I tried very hard to be good... low maintenance... a calming voice... his voice of reason and was all of these things, successfully.

Life shook his very being... kicked him in the stomach hard, leaving him doubled over, stunned... and I was there to bear witness; The blow, the struggle to catch his breath... the uncertainty... the eventual emotional and physical fatigue... the slow regaining of strength.

And I have been patient. Waiting.

"Waiting for what?" he asked. He didn't understand and I couldn't explain. Up till now, I wasn't sure exactly what I was waiting for. But I'd know it when I saw it, and then... well then I could finally leave the holding pattern I have maintained since life sucker punched him not long ago.

And now... this week... I know what I have been waiting for. I saw it. I felt it. I heard it in his tone on the phone... caught glimpses of it in his recent emails. For the first time in months... for the first time since he was kicked... he is breathing again... normally.

No more half hearted, going through the motions, getting through the day stuff . He is back among the living... himself. The holding pattern is over, and I can be his Naughty One again.

Please...I need to be.

"Maybe it is because I miss you but I am in need of your "stifling, you are being closely watched" type of discipline."

I have been in a holding pattern for a while.

I feel too comfortable... too able to test... too able to push.

I have missed him.

The way he can twist my psyche into knots. His high expectations. His mandates. The way he can make me feel claustrophobic with his presence... even from a distance. His behavioral training. His confidence in the mental chokehold he has over me when he so chooses. His vigilance.

Please...don't let me walk so close to the line. Push me back from it... hard... just because you can... because I am yours. Your Naughty One. And it pleases you.

I crave his watchful attention... his Authority.

Please... Sir.

I Have a Cold... Sniffle

2006-03-23T23:13:00.000-05:00

I have a cold... ~sniffle~

Hmmm...let me rephrase that...

My head is stuffy, my nose is runny and there is a tickle in my throat.

No, no... maybe I should try again... ~sniffle~

My whole body aches, my nose continues to run and be stuffed up at the same time (how can that be?), my stomach is queasy from all the drainage, and my body seems quite determined to launch one of my lungs up onto the carpet at any moment.

Hrm.

Okay, how about this... ~snerrrrrrrrkkkkk!~

I can only breathe through my mouth which affords me my current "I'b so sick I bay die at any mobent" speak. I'm drinking Gatorade like a maniac to stay somewhat hydrated and I have hardly had to pee all day because I think it's all mostly pouring out of my still very stuffed up nose like the bathroom faucet.

Oh. And I sound a lot like a barking seal when I cough.

As a side note, I decided to forgo the fun curly straw that Skate Kid added to my glass sympathetically, due to an overwhelming fear that while drinking through said straw I might create a vacuum and implode, achieving death by "strawfocation".

I blame this on Skate Kid... and his recent "well visit" to the pediatrician.

Actually I blame it on that germ pit the office calls a toy box in the waiting room. I can almost see the nasty little viruses hopping from the GI Joes to a random My Little Pony just waiting for some kid to come along.

Usually I keep a sharp eye out, refusing to allow my precious progeny to go petri dish diving, but dammit, I really had to go to the bathroom. When I returned, my little germ magnet was sitting...yes, SITTING in the toy box.

~sniffle~

Needless to say, one booster shot, a Batman sticker, one fifteen dollar co-pay, and a minor plague infestation later, we were out the door and on our way home to start our own little personal epidemic. Woo! Hoo!

~sniffle~

Did you know, according to WebMD:

The common cold is caused by over 200 different viruses that can live for hours on surfaces like keyboards, chained bank pens, or anything within 10 feet of a kid? They enter the body through the nose, most often by a drifting sneeze droplet or a badly behaved finger.

Rubbing your eyes can also introduce the menace, which slides down your tear ducts to viral ground zero where the back of the nose meets your throat. Upon successful entry, it will inject its own genetic material into a nasal cell and seize command, directing manufacture of new, self-assembling viral parts.

Soon, hundreds of new viruses fill the cell to bursting, setting free an unruly mob ready to repeat the process. The body reacts with an immune response and releases, among other chemicals, histamine, which causes the runny nose, sneezing and watery eyes associated with a cold.

About 95 percent of people directly exposed to virus particles will become infected, though a quarter may not produce symptoms. Remarkably, it's those with strong immune systems who become symptomatic. The characteristic sneezing, sinus pressure, and low-grade fever are part of the body's defense mechanism. For example, fever and blocked nasal passages increase the temperature of the sinuses (to kill viruses), and runny noses and sneezing are an effort to expel the invaders.

A strong immune system, dammit. That's why I am hacking like a bull frog and high as a kite on cold medicine.

Usually I don't like to take meds... it must be that "Masochistic New Englander" thing I've got going. I caved yesterday afternoon though, when I spiked a fever of 102 and was willing to try anything that didn't involve leeches or bats in order to achieve some sort of comfort.

My cocktail choice of the cold season was Dayquil. :)

Yep, so here I be... happily high on caffeinated cold medicine, fluctuating between moments of I-need-to-do-this-right-now-right-now-cripes-are-those-my-fingers-going-rat-a-tat-tat-geeshh-I-am-sshhhaking! to Ohhhhh... I'm flooooooating... weeeeEEE!!!!. I am soooooooo graceful! No one has ever glided up and down the aisles of Walgreens with a kleenex hanging out of her right nostril in search of Vicks Vapor Rub as gracefully as I am doing!

So... where is my spanko mojo in all of this?

Hmmm:

Professor: ~In a tone true to his best "remember you always remain under my watchful eye, Young Lady" stern Disciplinarian form (via phone no less!)~

I want you to take care of yourself, Naughty One. Do you understand? I want you to get plenty of rest. We have a bit of unpleasantness to take care of when I see you next week and I don't want to have to add anything else to the list, got it?

Me: ~Blushing slightly, I pull my blanket up to my chin, and revel in the anticipation of our next spanking session as my belly flip flops and I shudder uncontrollably amid the backdrop of a humming humidifier and the heady menthol smell of Vick's~

Y,y,yes Professor, I understab. I probise to get pleby of resth.

Ahhhh...the simple joys of being a spanko...

Losing My Voice

2006-03-21T18:16:00.000-05:00

"Once you start compromising your thoughts, you're a candidate for mediocrity."

-Neil Simon, Biloxi Blues

I would imagine that all writers go through periods of writing and non writing... a sort of creative phasing, if you will... a natural cycle. But what happens when the period of "non writing" occurs outside of your normal writing cycle? What happens when for apparently inexplicable reasons, a writer simply cannot write? I wonder if any of you have faced this problem...

I haven't written anything in over a month. Not on this blog, not in my journal, not even in email. I have been suffering from I guess what you could call a serious case of creative constipation of the literary kind.

It was if one morning I woke up and couldn't write. I wanted to write, I tried to write, I sat with my laptop open, its screen glowing gloomily for long periods of time and yet I was unable to "put words on paper"... tap out a well formed thought in Word. It got to the point that I couldn't bear to sit at my keyboard because the experience was painful, demoralizing and worst of all, it just didn't make any sense.

I am/was a writer after all... I live and breathe words. Do I make any claims to be a good writer? No. I am just saying I am a writer... just as other people are listeners, or feelers, or talkers.

I find life to be a tactile, sensual, stimulating, thought provoking affair and writing affords me the opportunity to express my reactions to it. For me, it is through words that things make sense. I write to give order to my world... to understand myself and this thing called life.

In my head, things aren't as clear....they seem jumbled....large...and confusing...wispy half-thoughts fluttering about. However, when I capture them on paper, they are manageable and concrete and more importantly, they are still.

But not lately. Lately, I have had writer's block... or should I say blogger's block? Blogging is unique in the sense that as a writer, you are putting your stuff out there on the great information byway for everyone and their mothers to see, analyze, link to and opine on. It doesn't matter if you have a following of four or 40,000, your personal "junk" is not being recorded in your private journal hidden safely under the mattress. It is public and participatory.

So how does this contribute to my recent bout of "blockage"? Self censorship. When I started this blog, I had a purpose... and a voice. In the beginning I used my voice to explore and chronicle my personal spanking journey. This was my haven... the one place where I could unwrap the mysterious and often very confusing layers of my kink with unfettered abandon. And I wrote honestly... openly... innocently... and without censure.

Over time I became aware that people were reading what I wrote (and some of you actually liked it!) and this pleased me to no end. It energized me... spurred me on to share more of myself... of my journey. But with it came an acute awareness that I was not alone anymore.

What I wrote was being read by others... being judged by others. A few well placed criticsms, along with plenty of "helpful" advice on how to "blog better" became the mental pebbles that started my slide down the slippery slope of self censoring.

I became increasingly sensitive about what I wrote here. Slowly, quietly, I became less open... less willing to share my thoughts. The purpose of my blog changed as I deliberately began choosing not to blog about certain things... not to explore certain feelings or thoughts "on paper".

My choice of non disclosure led to an insidious problem that I have now realized had deep reaching implications. By choosing not to blog about certain things, I inadvertently made it hard to blog about any related issues, and by extension, anything related to that, etc.

This blog was a place for me to make sense of my kink... a place where I could grow into myself. How could I make sense of my kink if I chose not to offer up to the light those things I sorely needed to put down on paper in order to make sense of my kink? Soon enough there was nothing which was left to blog... except the "safe" stuff... the "generic" stuff.

Essentially, I lost my voice. And I was left with basic Blogger bullshit runoff: Cute quizzes, memes, bland entries devoid of any kind of serious emotion, and more meaningless fluff. I had nothing of substance to write about. I was just going through the motions.

Hence the block.

So where am I now, a month later? Alive. Well. And still naughty. And you know what? I think my block is gone. So here I am... reflective... refreshed... and with a renewed sense of purpose to stay true to my voice...

And did I happen to say naughty? ;)

Productive Authority On Ice

2006-02-09T22:46:00.000-05:00

So I have a thing for Skate Kid's skating instructor. This is a man who instills fear and respect in all of his students. A man who is able to control a rink full of normally rambunctious boys without even breaking a sweat.

A British born skater who retired from the figure skating world in his teens, Fascist Coach now torments... erm trains figure skaters for competitions as well as hockey players interested in learning the art of power skating. It is for the power skating component that Skate Kid trains with him a couple of times a week.

When we first heard about Fascist Coach, I noticed that people almost whispered his name with a mix of both awe and fear.

He is the best. He is a figure skater you know, but he also trains hockey players.

Er... he is a figure skater? I dunno, Skate Kid wants more of the hockey coach type. That is one of the problems we are having in his current skating classes... all of the instructors are female figure skaters.

Yes well Fascist Coach is different from your usual children's coach. You'll see.

Hmm...

And so I went to observe this figure skating Fascist Coach in action during one of his training sessions, and I found that yes, he is different.

He is dominance in presence. And he is productive authority.

And I have a bit of a thing for him.

Well, its kind of a love/fear thing. He pushes my buttons and intimidates me all at the same time, and whenever I am around him, I have this overwhelming urge to please... authority.

Yup. It is that mystical authority vibe...

It's also an "Ewww! I can't get the image of some sort of kinkofied Ice Capades show out of my head! Mixing Disney on Ice and a kinky fetish is just wrong... wrong I tell ya! And yet strangely I am drawn to this authority on skates..." kind of thing.

Professor said he wasn't surprised, by the way. Fascist Coach has many of the personality traits that inevitably push my buttons. "I can see why he makes you swoon. He is a strict authority figure."

I thought about that after he said it. Yes, Fascist Coach does have many traits that make me swoon: He is stern, commanding, demanding...meters out consequences...expects the best from his students.

He is authoritative. He is authority.

But there is more. It is more than just authority that makes me swoon. It is a particular type of authority: Productive authority.

I have realized that I really dig the "harsh taskmaster" type. I think that is why my kink tends to revolve around the school girl theme. I get off on authority... with a purpose.

Give me a challenge... mental, physical and/or emotional... and then give me a demanding taskmaster willing to help me overcome that challenge, and I am a happy girl. Actually, I am more than happy. I am fulfilled.

And so here it is... another piece to Naughty One's puzzle: I truly crave productive authority.

And apparently, even if said authority wears skates and sports mouse ears.

Puck Bunny

2006-02-04T14:55:00.000-05:00

**Warning! Meaningless Blog Filler Ahead!**
Lack of meaningful post to follow...

Yes, yes, yes... I know... I said I was going to write more about Skate Kid's skating instructor and I haven't done it yet. I haven't done much writing at all in fact, and for an avid journaller, its made me sort of twitchy.

Here in New England, as in any other winterfied area of the world, snow and cold weather = winter sports... and for Skate Kid, winter sports = hockey.

Hockey, hockey and more hockey.

As any other parent will tell you, a child becoming involved in hockey is like getting married. The commitment to the sport is huge, and for both parent and child, it is like this time sucking vacuum.

"What did you do today?"

"Oh.. we were at the rink."

"Did you have a good weekend?"

"Um, yeah... we spent both Saturday and Sunday at the rink... there was a triple header don't you know..."

"Did you watch the State of the Union Address the other night?"

"Um no... was that the same night as Celebrities on Ice?"

Yes, so this is where I am... no worries though... the "Kinksters on Ice" post is burning a whole in my head, so to speak, and I will write it all down very soon, I promise... if only to get it out of my head. I have several other half thoughts and beginnings of ideas written on concession stand napkins, scraps of note paper, etc. Maybe I should start bringing my laptop to the rink.

My Kink In Lights

2006-01-31T19:41:00.000-05:00

I was going to devote time and energy to elaborate on the statement, "I have a thing for Skate Kid's skating coach. Not like a "sexual thing" -its a "kink thing". He's a swoony vision of authority" from my mini blog, but somehow time got away from me.

My "Kinksters on Ice" post will have to wait until tomorrow because as you can see, I have been extremely busy this evening... doing all sorts of time consuming things.....

Virtual Lite-Brite... who'da thunk something so near and dear to childhood could be so...spankify-able? My amusement knows no end. ;)

Filed Under: Humiliation (Not the Good Kind)

2006-01-30T20:11:00.000-05:00

I am going to let the following speak for itself:

Study Boy and I at the breakfast table this morning:

Me: ~Glaring at the hated cell phone in question~ Okay, we are in cell hell and I am sick of it.

Study Boy: ~Munching away like that office cubicle guy in the cereal commercial who can't hear he is being fired~ Hmm?

Me: ~Still glaring at said phone~ Nextel. It sucks. We never have service and I want out. Besides, look it... it's an ugly ass phone. I want something stylish. I want something that works! And I am willing to "cell my soul" to get it! Ha! Ha! Get it? "Cell" my soul?

Study Boy: ~*crunch* *crunch* *crunch*~ Hmmm?

Me: ~Now annoyed and beginning to whine... getting ready for the pitch~ Aren't you even listening to me? It's time... we have been held hostage by shitty service for what? Now I know that it costs money to get out of our contract, but I think yours is up in a month... so we could wait till then and just pay the fee on mine. Hell, I think $200 is a small price to pay, don't you think? How about if I go call Nextel and find out if your contract is up in February okay? We can go from there. ~Looking hopeful~

Study Boy: ~*crunch* *crunch* *crunch*~ Hmm? Howpph mumch? Ummph... okaph ewipph meef.

Me: ~Grabbing my phone and heading outside to stand in the driveway for optimum cell reception~ Thanks hon, be right back!

Me: ~On the phone with "This is Chris, your Nextel Representative, how may I help you today?", while standing in the middle of my driveway in New England... in January... shivering~ Hi, could you tell me when my contract is up? I think it's this coming February, but I'm not sure.

Nextel Representative: Can I have your account number please?

Me: ~Running back up the steps of the front porch and into the house to get our recent bill~ Oh, crap! Yeah, sure... hold on one sec, let me... BEEP!! Uh... hello? Hello, can you hear me? Hello? Hellllloo?

Me: ~Looking at the LCD screen that now cheerily displays the message "Call failed, please try again"~ ARGGGGGGHHHH!!!

Me: ~Back out in the driveway, bill in hand, slowly reading my 75 digit account number over the phone to "Hi, this is Jane, your Nextel Representative, how may I help you today?"~ No, 54387-49. Yes, 8... that's correct.

Nextel Representative: Now may I have your password to confirm your account, please?

Me: Sure, its babelfish.

Nextel Representative: I'm sorry, that's incorrect.

Me: ~Confused~ Uhhhhhh... it's not babelfish? I thought it was babelfish. I always use babelfish...hmm... that's odd...did someone change it? Who'd change it?

Nextel Representative: According to records, the password was changed on November 16th via our website.

Me: ~Now *really* confused!~ Wha??? Are you sure? November 16th? Why would anyone change... wait.. online did you say?

Nextel Representative: Yes, on November 16th an online account was created for billing and such and the password was changed at that time. Do you need the hint provided?

Me: ~Horrified... the memory of establishing the online Nextel account and new password washes over me~ Um, no... that's okay.. I don't need a hint. I remember now.

Nextel Representative: And the new password to verify the account is?

Me: ~Standing in the middle of my driveway in New England... in January... shivering...with my phone pressed to my ear, blushing furiously~ Er, the password is... spankme.

Doh!

It's Gotta Be the Weather

2006-01-28T03:50:00.000-05:00

"What New England is, is a state of mind,
a place where dry humor and perpetual disappointment
blend to produce an ironic pessimism
that folks from away find most perplexing."

~ Willem Lange

I don't have much sympathy for someone else's pain. I am not sure if it is because I am a masochist, but if you complain about pain to me, you have to be pretty much dying... or in danger of losing a limb, in order to get sympathy.

Maybe it is partly due to geography.

I was born and raised in New England...a true 3rd generation Yankee... famous for characteristic traits such as thrift, resourcefulness, and my favorite... "determination in the face of adversity".

We are stoic. Self reliant. And it might have something to do with the weather.

Any group of people that chooses to live in a place with weather that is arguably the most varied in the world, including temperature extremes, droughts, flooding, ice storms, blizzards, nor'easters, hurricanes, tornadoes and more... well, we take hardships as a matter of course.

New England is populated by a large group of masochists... weather masochists.

Yankee children are born and bred this way. "Evolution by climate" so to speak. I wonder what Darwin would say...

And then, when you add our Puritan roots? Well let's face it, part of New England's Puritan legacy is self-righteous penance... long cold winters in the New World and all that (see the weather connection again? It is a deep running theme here!)... so a history of forebearance coupled with our evolved weather masochist tendencies, well, Yankees believe pain should be borne with indifference, suffered silently and accepted as just another part of the living experience... like bad weather.

My point to this rambling?

Study Boy ~Limping in the back door with Fuzzy One trailing behind, tail wagging~ Ugh, I slipped on the ice while chasing the AFP (Study Boy's term of affection for the canine member of the family: Annoying Fucking Pooch, shortened to AFP).

Me ~Looking at him critically, noting the way he cradles his right shoulder somewhat pathetically~ Are you alright?

Study Boy ~Grimacing and groaning a bit~ Yeah, I think so. My shoulder hurts a bit though.

Me ~Looking at him more seriously~ What do you mean, "it hurts"? How bad? Can you move it at all? Is the pain unmanageable? Do you think you need to see a doctor?

Study Boy ~Now limping pathetically around the house (Didn't he say shoulder?), his eyes squinting in pain~ Um, I...yeah....ouch!... yeah I can move it. How bad? I'm not sure... it hurts!

Me ~Getting a bit impatient at my usually linguistically gifted spouse~ You're not sure? Jeez...it hurts? What does that mean? Is it excruciating? What kind of pain is it?

Study Boy ~Grimacing and "ouching" under his breath~ Well, no its not what I would call excruciating...

I cut him off with a wave of my hand before he could say anymore and headed for the freezer for an ice pack.

Me: You probably pulled a muscle or strained something. Take this and put it on your shoulder and I'll get you some Motrin. You'll be fine in a day or two.

I spent the next couple of days telling him to suck it up.

Me: "Just ice the damn thing and take more Motrin. You'll be fine, just stop focusing so much on it... and stop talking about it!"

Yeah. And over a week later he was still walking around making those little gasping , sucking in air sounds through gritted teeth. I just couldn't understand why he was being such a baby. He fell in the snow for God's sake!

Me ~After yet another gasp~ Good grief, did you take more Motrin? I thought you said it wasn't a big deal?

Study Boy ~Mumbling a bit~ No... I never said that...

Me: You said it didn't hurt!

Study Boy ~Removing his shirt to show me a rather ugly looking black bruise~ I said it wasn't excruciatingg! I never said it didn't hurt!

Me ~Shaking my head, a bit worried~ Hmm... maybe you should call the doctor. That doesn't look so good. Why didn't you tell me that you were in pain?

Study Boy ~Looking rather miffed~ Well, you made me feel like it shouldn't hurt as much as it does. Like I am some sort of wimp.

Me ~Doing damage control while eyeing the obscene bruise and the funky cockeyed way he held his shoulder~ Oh come on, with how you described it, I thought it was nothing.

Study Boy made an appointment with the family doctor. The day of the appointment, I got a phone call around lunch time. It was Study Boy and I thought I heard a twinge of smugness in his tone:

Study Boy: Well I tore a tendon in my shoulder and he said I am lucky I don't need surgery. ~After pausing for just a moment to let his words sink in, he continued on, his voice definitely taking on a smug tone~ *And* I chipped the bone.

Me ~Not missing a beat~ Now you see? If you had only been more descriptive of your pain, I would have suggested you go see the doctor! You are seriously lacking in the descriptive skills department, you know that?

Study Boy ~Complete silence on the phone for a couple of heartbeats~ Uh huh... it wasn't your total lack of sympathy about my pain then? It was my descriptive skills?

Me ~Squirming in my seat, but determined to see things through~ Erm yeah... well, that and the fact that I am from New England and a bit tougher than you. See, you are from the Midwest and that just isn't the same. Here in New England, they make em tougher.... it's the weather you know... turns us into masochists... a weather masochist of sorts....

I stopped my blathering when he cleared his throat.

Study Boy ~Amused~ Honey, did you just blame your masochism on the weather?

Me ~Non plussed~ Well, not any old weather! New England weather, because you see.....

Yup. Masochism in the northern states? Definitely weather induced.... Yes, well it sounded good in the moment. I was backed up against the wall! I wonder if I should be spanked for telling tall tales..... hmmm.... ;)

So, What Does A VCS Bath Brush Feel Like Anyway?

2006-01-21T00:38:00.000-05:00

Professor seems to enjoy and be very adept at waging psychological warfare before (and during) a spanking session. He takes perverse pleasure in torturing me mentally... keeping me guessing... pushing me off balance.

A recent example? He had me lug our duffel bag full of spanking implements to my recent punishment session, and then proceeded to pull our recently purchased (and not even properly tested) Vermont Country Store Bath Brush out of his pocket when I got there. Did he use *anything* from the duffel I brought? Nope. He chose to punish me with this:

And there it is.

I think it looks rather wimpy. And really, when you hold it in your hand, there doesn't seem to be much weight to it, so it even feels wimpy. Guess what? It's not wimpy. It isn't even close to wimpy... and the pain the little sucker leaves in its wake... well, it is a bit hard to describe.

So, what do I think of our bathbrush after Wednesday's experience?

It stings like mad, but doesn't leave deep tissue bruising like a wooden paddle, and yet I would say that it is much more painful than the frat paddle Professor usually uses to punish me.

Actually, I will go on the record by saying that for me, it is the worst pain I have felt to date... from any implement, including the cane... and really, that is saying a lot. I am no shrinking violet when it comes to pain.
I have thought a lot about it... about why such a wimpy looking thing could be so painful.

It isn't heavy enough to do any lasting damage, at least not for me and my "born to be spanked/very rarely marks or bruises" spanko bottom.

When I get spanked with a wooden paddle, I always have deep tissue bruising and I am sore the next day. A paddle is thuddy... the pain sort of echoes over my bottom... and it is a deep, thick pain, followed by a rippling aftersting (that is actually very pleasant!) that fades over time.

That nasty bathbrush is different. It is a stingy type implement... like a cross between a cane and a hairbrush. Or better yet, imagine it as a hairbrush with cane like qualities... a hairbrush with an attitude. It is less thuddy and more stingy like a hairbrush, but the sting... well, it led into this burn... and then as an added bonus, the burning feeling grew like with a cane.

Just as a cane's sting grows after impact...you know, that "take your breath away" sting crescendo you get after a well placed cane stroke... the bathbrush's burn grows after impact.

Yeah.

I would equate the feeling to if you took a bit of sandpaper and rubbed it vigorously over your skin and then had someone whack the red and raw area repeatedly with something solid. Imagine rug burn on steroids.

It was something I have never felt before... seriously, a hairbrush with attitude! I think a hairbrush is VERY painful, but usually with a regular hairbrush spanking, my bottom gets blissfully numb after a while (thank god for small favors) and I am able to survive the experience emotionally intact.

For some unknown reason, I didn't go numb with the bathbrush... I was able to experience each and every swat in its fully glory... and none of my usual pain coping mechanisms worked at all. To be honest, after about five minutes I thought I was going to go out of my mind.

My experience with the bathbrush?

It was unbelievable...

And intriguing ;)

Tagged by Janeen

2006-01-20T00:28:00.000-05:00

A tag from Janeen! (and a belated response, but a response nonetheless!)

Here are the instructions:

1. Go to your blog archive
2. Find the 23rd post
3. Find the 5th sentence
4. Post the text of the sentence in a blog entry along with these instructions
5. Tag five other people

So, this Naughty One is used to not only regular meetings with her Disciplinarian, but also a pretty consistant diet of emails/IMs as well, and it keeps her grounded... anchored... because he is a steady, consistant voice of reason in the midst of naughty madness.

I tag: Poiesia, Dirty Girl, Kaya, Carrielily, and BadTom

You Are Spanked When You Are Bad

2006-01-19T19:20:00.000-05:00

It was a dark and stormy afternoon as I made the trip down to meet Professor...the strong winds and torrential rains echoed my own turbulent emotional state. I was agitated and afraid...my stomach queasy... and I spent the hour long drive fighting back tears, hastily wiping them away with the cuff of my sleeve.

Okay, I have to stop here for a moment because really, just how often does a writer get to use the phrase "it was a dark and stormy afternoon" and mean it in the literal sense?

This is one of the most ridiculed openings in literature, but in this case it works! I mean, talk about setting the mood for a punishment spanking...and not only that, but the weather clearly reflected my emotional state.

So yeah, it actually was a dark and stormy afternoon...a perfect setting for a punishment spanking...

By the time I got to the hotel, I had pulled myself together, and when I knocked on the door to Room 224, the only remnants of my panicked drive were the metallic taste in the back of my mouth and the oversized lump in my throat... the latter of which I had embraced as a permanent addition to my anatomy days ago.

The door swung open and there he was, his tall form filling the door frame and my stomach threatened to empty itself on the carpet. I stepped inside and shut the door, letting my back pack slide slowly down my slumped shoulders before I set it on the bed and backed up against the wall.

He looked resolved... grim... determined and I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself and pulled my shoulders forward. I don't want to do this today... I want to go home...I hate it when you have to look at me like that. "Stand up straight," he scolded. Is that disappointment on his face? Disappointment mixed with irritation? I swallowed several times and tried to ignore my growing panic. I am scared, Professor. Scared!

"Go get changed." "Yes Sir." I picked up my pack and headed for the bathroom. "Oh, and I brought the bath brush... its here in my jacket pocket. Go get changed, and when you come out I am going to spank you hard with it." Bath brush?!?! "You deserve the spanking you are going to get and I want you to think about that."

That's not how it was supposed to go..we were going to use that in fun for my first actual spanking with it ... I felt light headed. Don't you remember, Professor?

"This is serious."

"I know."

"As serious as it gets."

"I know."

He didn't have to lecture very much. I knew... we both knew that what I had done was wrong. Stupid and very wrong. His jacket hung on a tan plastic hanger in the pressed-wood room cubby and I watched rivulets of rain water slide down one sleeve and puddle on the carpet below before I headed into the bathroom.

You are spanked when you are bad, Naughty One...

He wouldn't have to spank me to teach me a lesson like he has done in the past. There were no new higher rules to learn... no need to spank the reasons for why what I had done was wrong into my bottom. I knew it was wrong, and why... so that just left...punishment.

You are spanked when you are bad...

I am scared Professor!

I came out in my skirt and clung to the wall. He spoke quietly and firmly, his eyes narrow. "Stand up straight, Young Lady! Look at me when I talk to you." I struggled to keep my body from shaking. It was if I couldn't stand on my own two feet and I needed the wall... for support... to hide... to wish myself away. Why can't you see that? I am so ashamed... scared...I need to hide. The wind made the window panes rattle...Will there ever come a time when you are unable to forgive me?

"Put your nose in the corner."

I was in the corner and the hotel cleaning staff was in the hall. I could hear their voices as they opened the door to the room next to us. "As soon as they are finished I am going to give you a spanking you will never forget." I know. His voice was in my ear and I pulled my arms up over my head, pressing my face closer to the wall. "Pull your panties down to your knees."

You are spanked when you are bad...

I closed my eyes and saw nothing but the image of the bath brush in the darkness as I slide my panties over my hips. I focused on the sound of the rain against the window. God...its raining so hard...I'm scared... The voices in the hall seemed to move away. Don't go! The rain seemed to fall harder against the glass. There was laughing in the hallway.

"Come here." No...please....I am scared!

I moved across the room to where he was sitting...my legs were someone else's legs...the bath brush was cradled in his hand. The carpet felt uneven under my feet and my ears were ringing. I can't hear the rain anymore...

"Over my knee." I am so scared! I looked into his eyes pleadingly, and then I saw it... the tiniest of hints... his eyes softened... just a brief moment... but I saw it. It will be okay. I saw it... and then I was going over his lap and wiping at my eyes, all at the same time... the cheesy calico print of the bedspread reached up to meet me... my face against the bed, my arms folded under my chin... his knees hard against my torso... my bottom bared his hand on the small of my back...and then there I was, ready to be punished... soon to be punished. I am scared...

CRACK!

Time stopped and I forgot to breathe. I listened to the rain pound on the window.

CRACK!

He began lecturing, but I couldn't hear him.

CRACK! CRACK!

I couldn't hear anything... not even the rain because the sound of my ragged breathing drowned everything else out. He brought the bath brush down again and again, covering my entire bottom with a pain that is difficult to describe.

It was mere minutes before I was writhing and wimpering... struggling violently to get away from the awful burn. His voice was insistent through gritted teeth, as he spread his legs apart, forcing my feet up off the floor until I was lying completely prone over his lap and unable to wiggle away.

CRACK! CRACK!

My bottom burned from the moment the spanking began and my eyes stung with tears from his lecture.
Back in the corner, I sobbed quietly, swiping at my tears before they were able to spill over on to my cheeks, before being called out again for another round with that bath brush.

It was a hard spanking and when he finally stopped, he asked if I thought I had been punished enough.

Punished enough?

His question surprised me and I didn't know how to answer. Punished enough? "I, er..." You could have hung me on the wall with thumb screws and whipped me with a cat o nine tails and I don't think it would be enough. "I...I..." He watched my face carefully. "It's okay, I want the truth." I watched the rain. "I...I...No." No? What is wrong with you? Your burning bottom is not enough? He nodded slowly.

"Come here."

Nooo....I changed my mind... can I change my mind? I was back over his knee and a new volley of spanks began... softer this time. I buried my face in the crook of my arm and closed my eyes. I am sorry...so sorry...can you forgive me? He continued to spank me with the bath brush. "I am sorry," I said simply... quietly. "I know," he said, now covering my burning bottom with light smacks...softer smacks... the smacks of a Disciplinarian who thought I had been punished enough. "I believe you."

He continued to spank for a few minutes longer, but for me, at that moment, it was done. It was then that I felt forgiven. It was then I could forgive myself. It was then I felt normal again.

Me: Professor? Someone asked me...someone asked if....well, I know right now I am nowhere near it, but do you think some day, .when I grow up...when I grow into myself...I will get to the point where I won't need to be punished anymore?

Him: Someday, you will.

Me: ~Slightly confused, that vague sense of dread growing again... B,B,B,But....wha?

Him: ~Stopping my stutter with a gentle look... Naughty One, your need for punishment was part of you when I met you, and it is part of you now, so we fulfill that need like we fulfill your others. It is all part of your puzzle. Will there come a time when you won't have that need? I hope so... I think so. Already your behaviour has improved... you are punished less.

Me: ~Shifting in my seat slightly, letting his words wash over me... Will I miss it?

Him: At the moment, you have a need for punishment and if that aspect of our relationship were taken away, you would miss it. But you are growing, Naughty One...changing... and your needs, what you need from the kink, from me, will change with you. And that's a good thing.

Me: But I am not there yet, am I?

Him: ~Laughing... No, Naughty One, you aren't.

Me: I am glad you are in my life, Professor...

Me: Hey look! It stopped raining!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Postscript: An excerpt of an email from Professor to a certain Naughtyopath:

Hello Naughty One,

How is the morning after? You didn't bruise, but I
imagine there must be some soreness. Is there?

It was a good meeting. It made things more "normal".
Amazing how a punishment can do that. That person
asked you if you would miss them once you "grew up" -
I wonder if I will also? I assume that I will
change as well.

I am glad that you are in my life too.

Be good.

- Your Disciplinarian

How Can I Say Sorry

2006-01-15T02:53:00.000-05:00

I am in trouble again... and really huge, scary kind of trouble, so I am preoccupied with the resulting upcoming punishment.

I wonder when it was that punishment became more about disappointing Professor than about the spanking itself. The respect and closeness...this caring about what he thinks sort of crept up on me.

In the beginning, it really was about exploring my need for spanking. Although we had established early on that I wanted more than just a spanko partner... that I wanted a Mentor/Disciplinarian...in the beginning, well, it was more roleplay than real.

When did it change I wonder?

The severity of a punishment spanking hasn't changed...it still hurts and will most definitely hurt on Wednesday. The lengthy Professorish lecture hasn't changed either...I know the drill... I can even hear his voice in my head as I type this.

I guess I have changed... *We* have changed.

There is this awful lump in my throat. It has been there since I called him to confess, and I can't seem to get rid of it. It isn't there out of fear... or anticipation of the spanking I will receive. Wednesday's punishment will hurt, and I deserve it...afraid or not. Really, the lump has nothing to do with the spanking at all.

I care what he thinks. A lot. And I screwed up. A lot.

When did it stop being an elaborate spanko roleplay?

I don't know, but it did... slowly... subtly... and now punishment isn't about the spanking anymore. Not really.

I am in trouble again... and really huge, scary kind of trouble, so I am preoccupied with the resulting upcoming punishment. How will I find the words to say I am sorry for what I did?

When I look up at him, when I look into his eyes...how can I say I am sorry for worrying him... for disappointing him... for making such a big mistake... with this big lump in my throat?

I really can't seem to get rid of it.

Spanking Game

2006-01-11T00:02:00.000-05:00

Ohhh I am so going to show this to Professor!!

*compliments of Reb's site, which I found via Spanking and Sex Games for Naughty Parties:

A Spanking Dice Game

Materials:
3 Dice
Paddle (or hairbrush), belt (or strop)

How to Play:
Position, Implement, Number of Swats and How Hard are decided by a random toss of THREE (3) dice.

Because you are using three dice, the possibility of the combinations of numbers are anywhere from 3 to 18 with each roll of the dice. The SPANKER rolls the dice to determine the fate of the spankee.

To add to the tension and uncertainty of the game the dice could be thrown one-at-a-time until the three are face up to reveal the:

POSITION
Over the Knee 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 14 - 15

Bending over 10 - 11 - 16

Over the end of the couch 12 - 13 - 17 - 18

The next roll of the dice decides the implement to be used:

IMPLEMENT

Hand 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16

Paddle 8 - 9 - 12 - 17

Belt or Strop 10 - 11 - 18

The next roll will determine the number of spanks:

NUMBER OF SWATS

from 3-18

And finally how hard?

HOW HARD

Light 3 - 4 - 5 - 6
Medium 7 - 8 - 9 -10 -11 -12 -13 -14 -15
Hard 16 -17 -18

100 Spanking Things About Me...About Us

2006-01-09T21:17:00.000-05:00

A spanko twist on the usual "100 Things About Me"...

1.I was never spanked as a child.
2.My earliest memory of my "spanko-ness" was 2nd grade. My teacher read a chapter of The Little House in the Big Woods (a book I had already read) each morning, and because I would get that squirmy feeling when someone talked about spanking, I kept asking to go to the bathroom during that time. After about a week, my teacher pulled me aside and asked me if I had a bladder problem. Nope....just a spanko who blushes easily....even back then.
3. Yes, I blush way too easily...especially when I am embarrassed or uncomfortable.
4. Basically its guaranteed that I will blush before, during and right after a spanking.
5.I am a spanko who is a sucker for all things schoolgirl, especially plaid skirts.
6.I am a spanko with a discipline core.
7.My first ever spanking experience was August 1, 2003.
8.I wore a black and white plaid school girl skirt, a white top, and black strappy sandals for my first spanking.
9.I am in a nonsexual, discipline based spanking relationship with Professor.
10.Professor wore a very white button down dress shirt, dark green slacks and black wingtips for our first session. (Are you impressed I remembered, Professor? ;))
11.I have never referred to or called Professor by his real name...and this includes when we are together. In the beginning, my choice to refer to him as Professor was based on respect as well as the swoon factor. Now, it is based on respect, swoon factor and endearment.
12.My favorite position is over Professor's knee while he is sitting in a straight back chair.
13.I am always spanked on the bare, unless we are in public.
14.I have been spanked in Chicago, Washington DC, and several states in New England.
15.A big trigger for me is public discipline....or the hint of it.
16.I have been publicly swatted in the hallway of the Supreme Court building in DC in front of several security officers, in CVS when purchasing my hair brush, and at the top of the Washington Monument.
17.I was spanked over Professor's knee in a public garden at the Smithsonian.
18.My first taste of a cane was in the form of a wooden mini blinds rod that was pilfered from my hotel room during our trip to Chicago.
19. The term "Naughtyopath" was coined by Professor in response to an email discussion we were having about my inability to "do what is right". Famous for being hard on myself, when faced with the realization that although I knew the difference between right and wrong, I often made the choice to do wrong, I referred to myself a sociopath. In his email back to me, he said that a better term for me was naughtyopath. :)
20.I used to have to keep a punishment list on yahoo briefcase that listed offenses I was to be punished for.
21. I have asked to be punished for present as well as past naughtiness and my first punishment spanking was for shooting a 22 rifle off a roof at a party several years before I met Professor.
22. I own 5 short plaid school girl type skirts, three pairs of white knee socks and several pairs of black shoes specifically purchased for spanking play.
23.We own two University paddles and I have felt only the smaller of the two.
24.My favorite Professor phrase? "Good Girl"
25. I rarely bruise or mark, no matter how hard I am spanked.
26. My least favorite spanking position is the diaper position....which we have done only once.
27.I don't like being verbally or physically degraded.
28.The lotion used during my aftercare is Solarcaine, a green gel-like stuff used to soothe sunburns.
29.When in the corner, I usually have to keep my hands on my head and my elbows against the wall.
30.We begin and end most spanking sessions with a hand spanking, otk.
31.I have to ask to be punished.
32.The most painful spank play I have experienced thus far involved having an ice pack placed on my bottom *before* being spanked.
33.My next spanking will involve a leg lock and the Vermont Country Store bath brush.
34.I have never had to use my safeword.
35.One spanking fantasy of mine involves Professor pulling the car over to give me an impromptu spanking.
36.I think impromptu spankings are very swoony.
37.I don't get enough impromptu spankings for my taste.
38.I love the sound a leather belt makes when it lands on a bottom....er...my bottom :)
39. Restraints are swoony, whether they are physical or mental, because I hate/love them...they push me outside my comfort zone.
40.Professor writes swoony spanking stories.
41.I have a hard time standing still when being lectured.
42.I try to get away with keeping my gum in my mouth during a spanking session just to be a little naughty because I know Professor forbids gum in those situations, and yet, if I am able to get away with it...I am left feeling oddly disappointed and guilty.
43.I love bedtime spankings.
44.Certain sounds and/or sudden changes in sensation (smacks mixed in with soft caresses) always puts me in subspace.
45.We have two rattan canes, a crook handled cane and a nursery cane and they were gifts from Poiesia.
46.My original hairbrush broke when it was thrown down my basement stairs by Skater Boy.
47.My earliest spanking fantasy involved Richard Dean Anderson (MacGyver).
48.I think it is incredibly swoony to sit through a class lecture on a sore bottom.
49. I never cry from the pain of a spanking.
50. While I was in Disney World last winter, I saw a Goofy paddle and it reminded me of Professor so I bought it for him.
51.Addendum to 50: The Goofy paddle reminded me of Professor because it could be used as a spanking implement, not because it had Goofy on it. :)
52.I do not have a list of simple rules to follow, like "go to bed at 11pm"...instead Professor has what he calls "Higher Rules".
53.The "Higher Rule" that tops the list? Do what you know is right.
54.For Christmas, a fellow naughty friend gave us a double strap, a flogger, a small cane, a hairbrush set, a long thin ruler type thing, a crop and...hmmm...a few more spanko toys. You know that old adage "With friends like these...."????
55.Hotel heaters are distracting... especially if you are standing in front of one, being lectured, and warm air is blowing up your skirt, caressing your freshly spanked bottom.
56.Yes, Professor actually calls me Naughty One in real life.
57.I get regular canings at school in Professor's office.
58.We met through a personals ad placed on Bernie's (remember Bernie's?)
59.From the beginning, our relationship has been unequal and discipline based. Somehow, over the last three years, we have managed to walk the fine line between friendship and discipline.
60.Professor is a left handed spanker.
61.My favorite kind of spanking is a "Spanking for spankings sake".
62.I believe in Spanking it Forward.
63.Professor uses the sorority paddle he bought on campus to punish me.
64.Our first role play occurred in a crowded mall, involved a VERY public lecture, a swat, an arm-grab-dragged-through-the-mall-wait-till-we-get-home-young-lady walk to the parking garage that was like, 3000 miles away.
65. When we first started talking via email, after a couple of months, I got scared and ran away. I came back to Professor more than a year later, and after another 4 months of talking, we finally met in real life.
66. Our first real life meeting was "in scene" at a hotel and then *after* the spanking session we went out to lunch. Seems backwards huh? It was...but it was worth it doing it that way...
67.Addendum to 66: You only have one "first time".
68.Professor's favorite implements are his hand and his belt.
69.I am not allowed to say "I don't know" when asked a question.
70.Professorisms I hear most often:
"Do what you know is right"
"I determine fair, Young Lady"
"Don't make me repeat my lessons"
"Got it?"
"You get spanked when you are bad, Naughty One"
"Get over my knee"
"Be open and honest at all times"
"Remember to keep your guard up in Nautcon situations"
71.Professor uses the terms "carrot" and "stick" when referring to the type of spanking I will receive at our next session... and carrot spankings are obviously more fun. :)
72.When in the corner, after being punished, I am expected to answer Professor's questions about why I was punished and what I have learned. If I hesitate... or am unable to answer them to his satisfaction, I get punished again.
73.Professor is the only Spanker I know who could make a spanko weekend in Washington DC educational. Spanked soundly in the evenings, my days were carefully (and anally!) planned by my map carrying fascist tour guide who made sure I got my fill of educational experiences.
74.Addendum to 73: I will NEVER be able to look at the Lincoln Memorial again without hearing Professor's spankofied Gregory Peck imitation in the background.
75.Professor usually wears black wingtips to spanking sessions ;)
76.Spanking pain is a good kind of pain.
77.If we haven't seen each other in a while, we have lunch before the session to "circle the spanking wagons".
78.Professor is a verbose lecturer (in and out of the classroom).
79.I love being blindfolded.
80.I love being challenged during a session.
81.Professor rarely uses non spanking punishment.
82.I always wear a short skirt for sessions unless we are at school.
83.Professor keeps our canes on his bookshelf in his office.
84.My favorite implements are my hairbrush and his belt.
85.I love it when he wears his glasses rather than his contacts.
86.The first gift Professor ever gave me? The Taming of Sleeping Beauty series.
87.The first gift I ever gave Professor? The Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich (Professor says Stephanie Plum reminds him of me... and we both think she, Joe and Ranger are closet spankos).
88.My best friend (a vanilla) made the heavy strap we use... and I think that he could go into business making torture implements if he wanted to.
89.I have never reached my hand back to protect my bottom during a spanking. In the beginning, Professor told me I "would be very sorry" if I ever did... and I have been too afraid to ever since.
90.Regardless of how he is portrayed on here, besides being no nonsense, strict and capable of giving a very hard spanking, Professor is caring, moral, has a great sense of humor and he has dimples when he smiles (I bet he will spank me for divulging that little tidbit after the "Clueless" thing).
91."NAUTCON" is a reference coined by Professor that is comparable to military DEFCON alerts. A NAUTCON alert is a warning to me that I need to keep my behavioral guard up. Professor taught me to recognize situations where I was likely to get in trouble, and thus, needed to be more aware of naughty behavior tendencies.
92.I hate being made to say the words "naughty" or "spanking" during a session.
93.I love being called "Little One".
94.I LOVE a crop.
95.The ring I selected on my phone for Professor is the Muppet Theme Song. I chose it because it made him seem a little less scary and just to be naughty ;).
96.I get off on the subtle details of a good session like the slow rolling of sleeves or being forced to stand in the center of a room before being spanked.
97.I feel helpless when Professor chooses to lower my panties, rather than telling me to do it.
98.Speaking of helpless, while in Washington, I was in a cast. Professor had to do everything for me... from tying my shoes to opening my soda bottles... and I wouldn't order any food that needed both a knife and a fork the whole weekend, because I didn't want him to have to cut my meat!
99.I think about spanking constantly.
100.Professor is about as swoony as they get :).