My Bottom

One of the most sensitive erogenous zones on my body is my bottom.  Walking around my apartment, I often find my hand automatically caressing it (and occasionally smacking it)--especially when wearing something thin or soft (or nothing at all).  I have had very few (...any?) lovers who've realized how much I enjoy, if not crave, to be touched or caressed there.  I think most of the girls I've been intimate with have been selfish lovers, aside from those who simply had no experience, and were too afraid, and unaware, of even their own sexuality.

Here's a little relationship hint for everyone, experienced or not:  generally, the things your lover will try with you, and the places they'll explore on you, are the same things they like themselves!!!  Even before I finally accepted my occupation with spanking, no lover of mine could possibly have been unaware of how much I like bottoms.  My eyes explore them.  My hands worship them.  I have trouble keeping my eyes & hands off of them.  Yet, it has been exceedingly rare for anyone I've been with to remotely try the same with me, even in the most intimate of moments.  Admittedly, most of my lovers have been overly submissive, wanting me to control everything about their sex life (if not their entire life).  For those of you who think that's what the dominant/submissive lifestyle is about, you couldn't be more wrong!  According to the Oxford Dictionary, "submit" is defined as: "accept or yield to a superior force or to the authority or will of another person".  That does not mean to sacrifice who and what you are to someone, it means to choose to do their will despite yourself.  Some of the most boring sexual experiences of mine, or told to me by others, included statements like, "do whatever you want to me." (sounds like it could be fun...without active participation by BOTH participants, it's not!); and "I like everything you do to me" (the worst answer possible to the question, "what do you want me to do?").  A dominant is not dominant to someone who's merely limp.  That becomes tantamount to masturbation, using another person's body.  There's no passion, no joyous frivolity, no excitement, no love...no point.  One lover I had--the last girl I've had sex with, who was a vanilla lover, b.t.w.--gave me nothing during sex; no hint of excitement: not a single gasp of breath, not a single movement of her own--let alone a gesture of reciprocation--not a hint of a request or preference...no signs of enjoyment whatsoever.  She was the kind of girl who, when asked, "did you like that?" (about anything) would only answer, "maybeeeee...?".  Frankly, it was (...get ready for this) bad sex (yes, folks, it does exist)!

Take my advice:  pay attention to what your lover does to you, and try at least something similar on them.  Likewise, if you like something done to you, try it on them (or just come out and tell them!!!), so they can be inspired to do it to you.  Otherwise, you might end up being the person someone is describing as a bad lover in a blog.  Of course, it would be better if we all could just speak freely about what we like and desire, but apparently that is unacceptable most of the time.  That is why we blog.

...And rub your partner's bottom.  Almost everyone will love it!

(This is mine, by the way...)

The.......end!  

Pun intended

3

Friends

There are very few people who really know about my whole spanking predilection (yes, I'm aware I have not posted for over a month, and I just casually began this one, pretending as if no time has passed).   I recently told a friend about this blog--she's now the only person who knows this is mine.  We haven't really talked about it yet...

A few friends know I'm "into spanking", but they're not really aware of the depth the concept of spanking is ingrained into my entire being.  They tend to approach it as a joke, or with a trepidatious hesitancy, as if they are afraid to touch it for fear of being soiled.  A long-time friend once told me he tried spanking his girlfriend a bit, and he was surprised how much they each liked it.  I lent him a paddle, but he was too afraid to use it, so he hid it in a closet and forgot about it until I sublet a room from him for a few months (it was the oval paddle, if you've looked at my arsenal).

One of my closest friends ("S", for clarity's sake) was up from New Orleans with her boyfriend, visiting NYC.  We got together for brunch, along with a couple of other friends of hers.  One of her other friends (I'll call her "D"), I am already acquainted with, and have casually known her for a number of years.  She is an actress and dancer, and I knew that she had some experience with spanking because she once posted a photo (on myspace, I think) of a rehearsal in which she was bent over in front of a guy who was spanking her.  She had captioned the photo, "The only time I enjoyed being spanked".

While wandering the East Village after brunch, we all strolled into a kitchen store.  I don't know how the subject came up, but D and I were discussing how she was spanked growing up in Texas.  I was enrapt, of course, and trying to sound nonchalant as I asked questions, eager for more real-life spanking stories, as well as the enticing images of the gorgeous D that were reddening in my head.  The gist was this:  her step-mother spanked her with a paddle or wooden spoon, but her mother, aside from the occasional use of a belt, had a bush outside her house, from which D was required to cut her own switch--nearly on a daily basis, she informed me.  She remarked, "I was well acquainted with that bush".  One of my co-workers, a man, recently told me he had to cut his own switches as a child, but D is the first girl I've ever heard say she was spanked with a switch, let alone having to obtain them herself.

Minutes after that conversation, as we meandered through the store, I came upon S and her boyfriend, who were looking at some very interesting kitchen implements (!) and had apparently been discussing the ones that S thought I would like...
...she knows me very well!  :D


I am not even remotely ashamed of my spanking desires (anymore), but, of course, don't talk about them very often.  Unfortunately, that makes finding other people with similar interests extremely difficult!  While browsing the spankoverse of the internet, I am often struck by the immense number of individuals, through the ages, who are, or have been into spanking.  I have no idea how to find others in real life. 

How do people do it?

Hello Again: Distractions

Hello again, all who may be reading this blog whenever I actually post stuff.  I think of you often, almost daily saying to myself something to the tune of, "I should post that to my blog!"  I have few legitimate excuses.  Mainly, work keeps me from actively blogging--both directly, and indirectly.

I work in high-volume catering--I don't know what else to call it; parties could be as small as 20 guests, or as large as 6,000 (one horrific event on the whole of Liberty Island will plague my nightmares forever).  Most of our gigs are at night, but there are occasional lunches, and even fewer occasional breakfasts.  My last few weeks have had more breakfasts, lunches, and all-day events than I've had in the last few years!  As a result, when I'm finally home, I'm completely wiped out.  Thoughts are not coherent, and my brain slides from thought to thought like rollerblades on a slushy day.

As a result, I tend to do mindless things at home--especially on days off!  I am a movie freak (I love Netflix!), and tend to spend a lot of time in front of my TV screen.  Also, a few weeks ago, I discovered tumblr.

I do not participate in many online social sites, with the main exception being the facebook.  However, discovering the multitude of people posting pictures and GIFs that fascinate, astonish, entice, enthrall, delight, amuse, and flat-out turn me on, I finally created a tumblr account, just so I could collect my favorites--initially, I intended to collect and carry things here, but there's sooooo much, and it's just so easy to "reblog" there.

This is still my *real* blog--I will not forsake you, oh faithful (but silent) readers, but you are more than welcome to visit my tumblr "blog", which is profundity-n-profanity.tumblr.com, and see images that I like.

I solemnly swear, too, to spend more time here.  That being said, I've been wanting to post these for some time now:

I love these!!!  They're drawn by Arkham Insanity--they're not her usual style, but a specific project she was working on.  She makes beautiful spanking artwork, typically using known characters, which can be seen at arkham-insanity.deviantart.com, as well as AnimeOTK, & several tumblr accounts.  Unfortunately (for me), a majority of her works are m/m, which I do not enjoy, subjectively; but even then I can recognize her outstanding skill and creativity!  I highly recommend viewing her art!

My First Spankee

The first time I ever spanked a girl was very unsatisfying, yet miraculous.  I know that sounds entirely contradictory, but it is true.

My first "adult"(ish) relationship began in high school, when I was fifteen.  Having moved every two years--or less--of my life, I was fairly outcast when I returned to the farmland community in which my father had grown up and continued to reside, having begun junior high in the Bay Area, near San Francisco.  By my Sophomore year, after a couple of years surrounded by the unsophisticated, small-minded cretins I had known periodically throughout my childhood, I didn't mind being an outcast at all.  In fact, I found that the outcast caste was made up of much better people.

A girl moved back into town (as a courtesy, no names: herein referred to as "C"), from her family's home in Arkansas.  She was not only attractive, but the first girl since I'd left the Bay Area that was attracted to me.  She, too, immersed herself among the outcasts.  We began dating with what was my first (real) kiss.  Two months later, I lost my virginity--she had done so previously.

Like so many of the less popular girls, C enjoyed the New Kids On the Block, the Coreys (Haim & Feldman), cheap perfumes (what was the one shaped like an exclamation point?), and stone washed jeans.  She also, religiously, liked to torture me with such blood-freezing phrases as, "we need to talk", "I'm fat", and "I forgot to take my pills (for the last 3 days).  I think I'm pregnant."  These, in addition to the matching t-shirts with both our names printed over a heart, and finally deciding to move away, were enough to send me to the mental ward...but that's another story.

Although we went to the same school (200 students, junior high & high school), we lived in different towns (all farmland, with a lot of space between residences).  Often, I would ride the bus home with her, and we'd spend hours in her bedroom (mostly having sex, of course); half the time, with her white trash mother and little brother in the living room of their mobile home (I did not believe in the concept of "white trash" until getting to know these people).  The days that her mother actually worked, however, were much more fun.

One such day, as we lied naked in C's bed between bumping uglies sessions, she began the "I'm fat" game.  This particular time, each time she said it, I would flip her over and give her a few rapid spanks on her bare bottom.  She would giggle, flip back over on her side, and continue to plague me with that dreaded phrase.  I was well aware of my extreme libidinous fixation with spanking by this point in my life, but was nowhere near coming to terms with it.  The game continued for 15-20 minutes, during which time I strongly wanted to pull her over my knee and actually spank her, but I was too afraid, still thinking something was wrong with me for my interest in spanking.  Looking back, I think that she probably would have let me, and may have really liked it.

A number of times, she had told me stories of her spanking history, which I devoured hungrily, and came back for more.  The stories that were most prevalent, and most interesting to me, were about her uncle in Arkansas.  The whole clan lived together (at least, very near each other), including a set of grandparents, C and her mother & brother, at least one uncle & aunt, and cousins: 3 or 4 boys & a girl.  Apparently, all the kids were very naughty, and all tended to get into trouble together--and often.  C's uncle was the disciplinarian.  When he was angry, he would tell them to line up.  The boys would all fight to be first in line, all of them knowing that he spanked harder with each new miscreant down the line.  The two girls, although older than the boys, knew they couldn't push their way to the front, so they always were last--C told me she believed her uncle took it easier on them anyway.  Once they were in line, bottoms all facing the same direction, he would pull their pants and underwear down in the back, one at a time, and spank their bare bottoms with his belt.  I don't know if they were standing bent over, or perhaps pulled over his lap--maybe even just over one knee while he remained standing; I was too nervous to show my exuberance by asking too many specific questions.  I did, however, ask when C had last been spanked this way, and it had only been a relatively short amount of time (she had definitely been fully developed...).  She told me of a time--near the last time she was spanked by her uncle--when she and the other female cousin had wanted to show how grown up they were, so they managed to take their spankings without crying.  The uncle didn't like that!  When he had finished spanking both of them, and still neither had cried, he said something to the effect of, "Not crying, huh?  I guess I'll have to spank you again!"  C said they both burst into tears immediately, but he began their spankings anew.  They never tried to hold back their tears again.

Of course, I was enthralled by her stories--I still have images in my head from my wild imagination at the time--but my reactions confused me even more.  While I enjoyed the, for me, erotic aspect of the stories, I was simultaneously angered by the idea of C's being hurt (typical, I think, of all young lovers).  Similarly, while I was giving her each light flurry of spanks during the "I'm Fat" game, I wanted to really spank her, but would never have wanted to hurt her.  The catharsis of finally slapping my palm against a bare female bottom was contradicted by protective instincts that held me back.

...The truth is, she really could have used a good spanking.

This is C.  Doesn't it look like she just got a swat on those turquoise panties?

Second Spanking Story--"Sunburn"

Finally!  I promise, I will get better about posting blog entries.  I keep getting distracted with projects, but they will give me even more blogger fodder, so please be patient with me.

Today, I finally wrote my second spanking story!!  I've been meaning to write this for about a week now.  The context is entirely true (aside from the name used).  A neighbor/friend/coworker asked me to do a photoshoot of her on Brighton Beach.  I explained it in the story, but suffice it to say that I'm still peeling from the severe sunburn I got that day.  Just today my right leg finally decided to peel off entirely.  I haven't had such a deep or painful sunburn in over a decade.  I could barely sleep for about 4 days, during which time I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be great for this to happen?"  I give it to you now.

...the irony is that I started another story at least a month ago, in which I would do the spanking--which is still the stronger draw to my libido and psyche, but my second completed story is another one in which a woman spanks a man.

Sunburn

“NO sunscreen?!  None at ALL??”

“No, Ma’am”, I replied, nervously watching Allison’s blood begin to boil; her face turning a similar shade to my stinging, sunburned skin.  Denise, my coworker and downstairs neighbor, had asked me to take photos of her on Brighton beach, next to Coney Island.  After a few hundred photos, we relaxed on the sand for a couple of hours, commiserating about some of our horrific coworkers.  As we got up to leave, Daniela pointed out that I was beginning to turn pink.  It wasn’t until I entered my apartment building that I began to realize I was really sunburned.  As soon as I walked in the living room of our apartment, and Allison saw the color of my face, her welcoming smile faded, and she demanded I remove my shirt.  Together we discovered my chest and right arm were bright red, but my entire back was severely burned!

As tiny as Allison is, her emotions can coagulate to fill an entire room—especially her anger!  I knew my face, too, was reddening even more than the sun had painted it.  I also knew that a certain other part of my anatomy would soon be doing the same.  Still, the subconscious decision to attempt to elude consequences asserted itself.

“Why the hell NOT?” she continued.

“The sky was so overcast, I hardly felt the sun at all!  Our photoshoot took about an hour, then Denise and I just sat by the water and chatted about people we work with.  She was in a bikini, and has fairer skin than mine, by far, and I never saw it getting red.  I didn’t notice my getting any color at all until we were leaving.”

“Oh, so you were too busy watching Denise’s skin to take care of your own!”

“No, Alli…I didn’t mean it like that!”  I could hear the pleading in my own voice, but couldn’t stop.  “You know Denise and I aren’t like that…and I wouldn’t do that to you…”  My brain could no longer form complete thoughts, yet my mouth continued to try.  The trepidation over my impending doom was a huge distraction, but worse was the intrinsic terror that Allison might actually have her feelings hurt, believing I was, or would want to be, even remotely unfaithful.  She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and the very last thing I would ever want would be to hurt her!

I continued to stumble over words, while my eyes already began to well up, trying to assuage her suspicion, when she silently held up her hand.  My flailing explanations silenced immediately, and I looked into her eyes, noticing peripherally that her expression had softened a tiny bit.  She was still angry, but I could tell she trusted me.  A flood of relief washed over me, followed by a tsunami of love for my diminutive girlfriend, the combination almost releasing the pent-up tears that had been threatening to rain down.

In a soft, serious voice, she spoke, returning to the matter at hand: “Your brother is about to get his doctorate in Meteorology.  You have lived with him in Miami.  You know very well that UV rays are still harmful when the sky is overcast, and that your family is prone to skin cancer.  You packed sunscreen this morning, before you left the apartment.  You deliberately chose not to put any on, and protect yourself. 

“I love you very much.  I worry about you, want to protect you, and hate to see you unhappy.  It hurts me to see you in pain!  Are you aware of that?”  I nodded, feeling guilt tightening around my heart, like an Amazonian anaconda.  She continued:  “I’m very disappointed in you...”--my constricted heart dropped down low in my belly—“…for choosing not to take care of yourself.  You are a part of me.  Disregarding your own health and safety is disregarding mine.”

With that, the first tear broke free and dashed down my ruddy cheek.

After a quiet moment, Allison reached forward and took my hand.  Without a word, she turned and led me to the corner, gently positioning me to face it exclusively.  She silently walked away, leaving me to contemplate how she felt, and how I’d affected her.  I had forgotten to consider what was coming next, concentrating so acutely on what she’d said, until I heard the nightstand drawer close in the bedroom.  I felt her re-emerge in the living room, followed by the sound of her sliding the dining-room chair into the middle of the hardwood floor.  Again, the room was silent.

Suddenly, I felt her hand gently, but insistently, grasp mine.  Lightly tugging, she led me toward the side of the chair, and, still holding my hand, she sat down on it.  She looked up at me, silently asking me questions.  I could see hurt and worry in her eyes.  I knew she needed for me to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Allison.  You’re right.  I wasn’t thinking, and I put myself at risk.  I love you, and I’m so, so sorry I’ve disappointed you!”  A second tear, this time from the other eye, escaped and fled.  She pulled the back of my hand to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss on it.  My constricted heart swelled, and made a valiant effort to break its bondage.

Allison released my hand, and used both of hers to unbuckle my belt, while I stood, completely still, both dreading and yearning for the punishment that was about to ensue—my release of guilt; her release of stress, followed by forgiveness; the justice; the balance; the starting over.  She adeptly unbuttoned my shorts and let them drop to my ankles, then slid the Speedo I was still wearing down to my knees.  She sat back, and I automatically crawled over her lap, making sure my still-alabaster bottom was directly facing her.  I felt her small, warm hand lightly rest on my right buttock, then gently brush a slow, soft circle around my entire bottom.

Without warning, I felt Allison’s little hand suddenly disappear, and instantaneously come colliding back with a sharp, hot sting.  The sound of the first swat echoed in the room, and reverberated through my entire body; from bottom to head and toes, and back again.  It was immediately followed up with a barrage of stinging swats, each landing in a different spot than the last, covering my whole bottom with a smarting fire.  The sting of Allison’s hand soon transformed into a deep burning, the temperature rising continuously at an exponential rate.  As the intensity of the flaming palm increased, my body began to involuntarily twitch more and more, until my legs were thrashing and my knuckles were white, one gripping the leg of the chair, the other holding Allison’s ankle, trying unsuccessfully not to squeeze.  Tears dripped from my eyes, making a small puddle on the floor, while mewling noises came, unbidden, from my throat.

I don’t know how long it had been before I noticed that the spanking had stopped, and Allison was kneading and rubbing my fiery bottom.  With tear-laden eyes, I looked back at her, to find her staring at me, waiting for our eyes to meet.  I could see that she was no longer angry—she had forgiven me, and was trying to force her love into me simply through the gaze of her eyes.  At the same time, she looked into my soul and saw that I still felt guilty.  She gave a quick nod, then turned her face away, reaching down to the floor under her chair.  Before I even saw it in her hand, my bottom gave a quick flinch in anticipation of its old nemesis, the hairbrush that lived in our bedroom nightstand.  Allison held it up casually as she looked into my eyes again, so I would inadvertently see it, then she let the flat back of the hairbrush rest against my bottom.  For the first time since placing me in the corner, she spoke:  “I love you”  “I know.  I love you.  I’m sorry.”  I replied, through tears and quivering lips.  I turned my head to face forward again, and the hairbrush lifted from my aching bottom.  As the hairbrush began to fall, over and over, on my burning behind, all of my senses were assaulted:  my legs began to flail again as the brush struck the sweet spots; my briny tears blurred my vision and filled my mouth with salty flavor, as my crying became more vocal and my head began to jerk with each impact; my sense of smell became more keen, as always happens when my nose is obstructed—again, the result of my crying; and the loud popping of the brush on my bottom attacked my ears, then adjoined the repetitive pain throbbing through my bottom, to pound at and crack the shell of guilt that had hardened around my heart.

After an eternity of rhythmic fire and cathartic sobs, the debilitating guilt shattered, and my whole body collapsed.  The pummeling hairbrush ceased to fall, and Allison’s loving hands again found my flesh.  One hand gently rubbed my bottom, while the other reached down and stroked the hair on the back of my head.  She cooed soft words and gentle sounds until the wracking sobs subsided, and I lied, limply, across her lap. 

When I had returned to earth, and was ready for reality again, I climbed back up to standing.  Allison held out her arms, like a parent does to a child, and I immediately fell into them, straddling her lap and holding her tightly.  Once more, I whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry I disappointed you.  I won’t do it again.  I love you.”  She whispered back at me, “I love you too.”  Then, with a touch of mischief in her voice, she said, “Come on.  Let’s go put some aloe on that sunburn, and some lotion on the other burn.”

What happened??????

I am a huuuuuuuuuge fan of spanking art.  On a nearly daily basis I browse through what's new on DeviantArt, and then on AnimeOTK.  As I was glancing at comments on several new drawings on AOTK this morning, I pondered how supportive so many of the members are on the site.  There is a clique of artists who have created their own world of characters, but they are welcoming and encouraging to other artists--they give honest criticism, but back it up with support (especially you, Steve Budzinsky/Weaver/Circe...you're a lovely human being...er...Neko futa...um...I don't know what a 'Neko' is, but you guys say it a lot).

Just as the warm fuzzies were filling my soul, I happened upon a different scenario.  I opened a picture by another artist--one who really seems to be conflicted by his own interests.  This artist, at one point, stated that he would no longer draw parental spankings of young girls, because of how wrong the idea is.  He quickly rescinded that statement, and began again, but, with every new work, includes statements about the evils of spanking.  He includes a disclaimer at the bottom of each picture, that says, "This picture is a fiction.  All characters, places, actions are imaginary.  Spanking should never be part of real life."  He also interchanges the word "discipline" with the word "violence", and referred to his own work as "grim".

One member, in very broken English, questioned the artist about his sexual appeal toward what he, himself, deems as violence and hatred, and suggested that others may disagree with the artist's opinions.  That commenter was immediately and severely attacked by several members, who very clearly did not even understand what the commenter was trying to say.  The first attack was on his "grammar", and told him to "go fuck [him]self".  A good number, if not a majority, of the members of the site are NOT from English-speaking countries.  Such an attack may not be endearing to the rest of one's peers.  The second attacker clearly thought the commenter was saying the opposite of what he meant, and showed himself to be even more of a fool when attacking a second time, after the commenter tried to explain, including an apology for having trouble with English.  This second attacker, in reality, totally agrees with the commenter, but was too stubborn to read, listen, or think; and his second attack pretty well summed up the commenter's initial statement.  The battle continued, but at least two others understood better what the commenter intended and tried to help explain.

We all have our own, often very strong, opinions about spanking, punishment, discipline, child-rearing (pun intended), parenting, morals, art, diet, colors, clothing, weather, and a gigazillion other things!  They are all our opinions!  Everyone repeat this mantra:  "EVERYTHING I EVER SAY IS MY OPINION"!  Say it until you mean it!  It will clarify soooooo many things in your life.

Rant over.  Bottom line: many people suck, and try to make others' lives suck too, to make themselves feel better.  Schadenfreude.

The Collection 1.2--Update

...just when you thought it was safe to look at the blog again.......

I happened to be in the neighborhood, so I wandered into Zabar's to see what I could see.  I found a couple of items I wanted, so I started to actually look for the things I've been needing, including more wooden spoons (for baking....really!).  I did find a couple of spoons I liked, but I also found this one--one that I have no culinary use for ;) --and I couldn't leave the store without purchasing one of my very own:


Holey Wooden Spoon

Length:  1’, 3 ½” head

Width:  2 5/8^th” at widest

Diameter of hole:  7/8^th”

Smooth bamboo; sturdy, not too light.

 As you can see, one side is scooped (but fairly flat), and the other side is consistent with the handle; smooth, but slightly rounded.  It is heavy enough to be potent, but light enough to be agile.

This object of spankophilic beauty has been residing on my intensely cluttered desk, filling me with bubbling glee, as well as contemplative questions and propositions.  If you've been reading my babbling prose, you'll be aware that I have a deep infatuation, if not addiction to at least the idea of sincere punishment spanking--my thoughts cover the concept at varying age ranges.  I have never been spanked with an implement such as this one, and in large part, I strongly desire such a punishment.  Just looking down at this smooth bamboo beauty fills my imagination with images of a lovely, loving woman firmly--sometimes angrily--commanding me to lie across her lap; sometimes before, and sometimes after baring my bottom.  

These fantasies had me questioning why I crave a discipline spanking at all.  I do not particularly like the pain of a spanking (okay...I do at first...).  I do not wish to mistreat someone; hurt them or make them angry with me.  I dislike confrontation--that is a part of the answer!  I desire the freedom of being dominated, but in a setting that is realistic to me.  I wish to be able to relinquish control to someone I trust and care about--to allow them to find restitution by punishing me as they wish--as long and hard as they think appropriate.  I can never truly give control to another unless the situation is sincere.  Additionally, being submissive to someone you share trust with places you in a safe and loving womb-like relationship--if it weren't, there wouldn't be trust to begin with.

...and that works both ways:  for someone to willingly accept and submit to your sincere punishment--especially when physical and emotional pain or trauma are involved (with the risk of even more of both)--they must share both trust and love with you.  Perhaps this is why I am now a switch.  I long for both versions (I am truly a Libra, needing balance in all things).  I wish to submit wholly, but I also have a natural tendency to dominate, and to have someone freely submit to me--to my love, and care, and discipline.

There are, of course, many other aspects to all of this (i.e. part of my erotic fascination with spanking women is an underlying fetish for the beauty of women's bottoms; and my own bottom is sensually sensitive, causing me to sexually desire nearly any feminine attention there).  There will never be simple answers to any of this, or I would have nothing interesting to write about.

The Collection, part 4: Paddles

This is the finale to my "Collection" posts (at least for now).  I don't really know if anyone's enjoyed these, or been the least bit interested, since there has not been one single comment, but, being the colossal nerd I am, I've enjoyed putting the categorical list together and talking about each item.

This last group is all paddles--some originally intended for spanking, others not so much.  I am thoroughly fascinated with paddles, and their use in corporal punishment.  I strongly enjoy reading stories--especially true stories--about the use of paddles in punishment spankings.  My family did not use, nor even discuss the use of paddles in punishment.  I don't think I've ever known anyone who was paddled parentally, at least that I was aware of--I never saw a paddle on display in anyone's house, and I don't think anyone throughout my childhood ever talked with me about how they were spanked at home.  The first paddle I remember ever seeing was at a Sunday School class, when I was in seventh grade (had I ever seen it used, I would have enjoyed Sunday School a lot more!).  My brother and I did attend a private school for a couple of years, where the paddle was used for punishment, but my parents refused to allow its use on us.  Having had a classmate tell a couple of us about his being paddled at school, I had an image of a simple, flat paddle, over clothing (such a prudish environment must be overly concerned with modesty!) giving around 3 swats.  Apparently I was wrong:  it was a heavy, fraternity-type paddle with holes, and at least some clothing was moved (I don't know if bottoms were bared, or uncovered as far as underwear) for 10 or more swats.  This school ran the gamut of kindergarten through high school, and the paddle was used for all ages.

There is something so definitive about spanking with a paddle--especially one of wood.  It's so final; so solid and authentic.  It is an implement with a single purpose--to deliver a solid, flat surface sting to the pliable curve of a bottom.  There is something so much more stern and inevitable about knowing a paddle will be taken to your bottom than with any other implement.  I can only imagine the depth of the dread a penitent feels, knowing they will soon experience the unforgiving, implacable face of a paddle.  It is always consistent--no variation.  It simply does the same work every time it is employed.

My childhood self would highly disagree, but I now wish I had been spanked with a paddle while growing up.  I long for it now, as an experience, but know it cannot be what it would have been.  My older mind can never give up control; neither of emotions, nor of situational reality.

...but I'd like to try ;)


PADDLES


Oval Paddle

Length:  8 ½” + handle

Width:  football shaped; 5 3/8” at widest

Thickness:  >1/4”

Layered leather; the handle is flexible, but the face of the paddle is not, making the sting spread radially, from the central impact point.

 Leather Frat Paddle 

Length:  9” + handle

Width:  3 ¾”

Thickness:  ¼”

Layered leather; moderately heavy and flexible.  This one spreads the pain of impact more horizontally.

Holey Frat Paddle (Batman!)

Length: 15” + handle

Width: 4 ½”

Thickness: > ½”

Lightweight hardwood, with twelve ½” holes

This is similar to the paddle described to me from the private school.  The handle is a little awkward--wide and flat, but still easy to swing.

Ruler Paddle 

Length: 14 ½” + handle

Width:  1 ½”

Thickness:  ¼”

Hard plastic—mottled, not smooth

Medium weight, only slightly flexible

I love rulers as spanking implements (they're just long, narrow paddles).  The textured surface of this paddle affects the airflow, and adds just a touch more friction to add sting.

Slapper Paddle 

Length:  18 ½”

Width:  tapers outward; > 1” – 2”

Thickness:  3/8”

Leather; very flexible with side-split rounded end (to make a louder sound)

 Most spankees know that sound itself can often add to the feeling of a spanking.  The body adds the affronted sense of sound to the sensate mixture that combines and swirls together to create "subspace".

Ping-pong Paddle 

Length:  > 6” + handle

Width:  round; 6” at widest

Thickness:  ¼”

Still has studded rubber layer on both sides (red on one, black on the other)

Very light

 I bought this knowing I'd never own a ping-pong table...

Cheeseboard 

Length:  10” + handle

Width:  8”

Thickness:  ¾”

Fairly heavy wood.  Rounded edges and corners

 I brought this home from a cheese-tasting event.  It's thick and heavy--a bit unwieldy, but still fun.

Paddle-ball Bat 

Length:  10” + handle

Width:  oval; 8 ¼” at widest

Thickness:  1 cm

Wood, with etched grid lines.  Fairly light, for wood.

This is the largest paddle I have.  I found it in a Salvation Army, and couldn't leave it behind (pun intended).

Antique Paddle 

Length:  > 7” + handle

Width:  roundish; 6” at widest

Thickness:  ¼”

Hand-carved, with the names, “Ruth Conner” & “Harold”, and the date, “Feb. 12,1941” on the smooth side, and the words, “I should worry” on the mottled side.

 I found this on ebay.  It seems like it might be an old-fashioned ping-pong paddle (look at the handle), but carved on both faces to be a spanking implement.  I can't quite make out all the writing--it's worn down, I assume, from use ;)

That's it.  The whole collection as it stands, although I do have a whole kitchen full of random implements and interesting items...

The Collection, Part 3: Belts & Whips

As I have mentioned before, the only childhood spankings I remember were those given by my father.  I lived with my mother more often (they first separated when I was in kindergarten, and my brother and I moved back and forth between them), and know that she spanked me many more times, but I just can't remember a single incident.  My father spanked me only about 6 times in my life.  In each occasion, we were sent to our rooms, if we weren't already there (almost every spanking from my father happened to both my brother and me, always privately in our own rooms).  After a few minutes, he would enter with his wide leather Levi belt that hung in his closet.  We were spanked lying face-down on the bed, in whatever attire was already present--no pillow under the hips, as you see in spanking videos...something I wish we HAD had.  By the very last spanking I received, I was fully aware of my secret spanking fascination and, although I have never had any inclination or fascination with m/m spanking, the part that hurt the most was my erection bent at an awkward position and pressed into the unforgiving mattress, while my bottom withstood the lashing assault, shielded only by my underwear.

I don't remember what age I was at the time, nor what I did to earn a spanking, but I do remember snippets of the event fairly clearly.  When my father died, his belt was one of the few treasures I really wanted to keep.  I'm sure I could ramble on for hours, dissecting the psychological reasons why, and perhaps I will do so someday, but suffice it to say, that particular belt is a kind of transitioning tool, making the fantasy of spanking connect with the reality of punishment--an aspect of spanking with which I am utterly infatuated.


BELTS

Levi Belt

Length:  37” + buckle (large Levi metal buckle)

Width:  1 ¾”

Thickness:  < ½ cm

Smooth leather outside, suede inside

When used on us, this belt was always folded once, held at both ends, to make a loop.  It was never left with a loose end, to make a lash, although that is a very effective alternative--one that I prefer using.











Skinny belt

Length:  34” + buckle

Width:  ¾”

Thickness:  ½ cm

 This belt had also belonged to my father--it's old and limber.  The outside face of the belt is rounded, with snakeskin-textured ridges, although it is cowhide leather.  It's fun and easy to use ;)

You can see the  difference in size between these two belts.  I love them both!










Ridge belt

Length:  40” + buckle

Width:  1 1/8”

Thickness:  1/8”

This one is the first belt I purchased for myself (to keep my pants up, until I outgrew it).  It is leather, with ridges on the outside face, but flat on the inside (of course).  It has a square edge on the hole end, making it less desirable as a lash.








Snake belt

Length:  45” + buckle

Width:  < 1”

Braided leather, with a metal tip

I think this belt was also my father's.  It is made of braided leather, and has a pointed metal tip.  This is not a belt I would readily use for spanking purposes.  If I did, I would probably use it inside-out--the inside is flatter than the outside, so would be less likely to damage skin...and I would NEVER use the metal end (nor the buckles on any belt).  I would, however, use this as a restraint.









WHIPS 

As mentioned in the last part, I have far less interest in BDSM than in spanking.  Nevertheless, I couldn't resist these: 


Suede Cat o' Nine Tails

16 Tails: L = varying 16 ¼” – 16 ½”, W = ½”, thickness = 1/8”

Soft blue suede, with pointed ends.  Medium heavy. Smooth plastic covered handle

I think this Cat is beautiful.  It's very soft, so not very painful.  It's more of a toy than an implement, requiring quite a swing to cause a sting.












Rubber Cat o’ Nine Tails 

 

8 Tails: l = 22” but stretch past 36”, w = ¼” very thin

Handle: l = 8 ¼”, dildo end l = 6 ½”, diameter = 7/8”

Very light

This Cat stings even less than the suede one.  The tails are so thin and stretchy, that they're not very effective, unless you hit just right.  It was the handle that I couldn't resist!  While I'm not into ponygirls, or that sort of thing, I still thought it might be fun and effective to give someone a tail ;)

 Bullwhip

 

Length:  46” + 4 tails, varying 7 – 7 ½”

Braided black leather

This is also a toy I wouldn't really use on a person--especially because there is a knot just above the tails at the end.  I have just always been fascinated with bullwhips.  This one came from an adult shop, but I will one day find an authentic one.

The Collection, part 2: Crops & Canes

To be perfectly honest, I'm not a big fan of canes or riding crops.  Crops, to me, lean more toward BDSM in general, rather than spanking, specifically.  While I understand BDSM, and don't mind participating (to some extent), the whole concept feels...colder to me, whereas spanking is more intimate and personal for me, and is exponentially more intriguing, arousing, and fulfilling for me (I am well aware others will disagree, but this is my perception of myself, and many others I've encountered, not to be taken as generalizing).

Canes, however, are--for many people--more severe than other spanking implements.  While I enjoy the pinks and reds that spanking paints bottoms with, I am not a fan of welts or bruises.  Some pains I find delicious, other pains...well...painful.  Perhaps, had canes been prevalent as tools of childhood punishment during my youth, I would have more of a nostalgic connection toward them, but, at present, they are simply instruments of pain in the eye of my psyche.  Additionally, like crops, their use puts more physical distance between players, leaving a bit less of an energetic and emotional connection between people (with the exception of, for lack of a better term, "lap canes"--shorter, to be maneuverable in an OTK or other closer situation).

Don't get me wrong; I am not wholly against canes or crops.  Both of these types of items have their uses.  Canes make sense to me within a relationship in which true physical punishment is received--a kind of relationship I would like to find.  Crops are fun toys.  Both can be erotic--crops are great to use on a spread-eagled, blindfolded girl (in numerous ways !), and I would expect canes to be very exciting to those who were raised in places where canes were used for punishment--but I, personally, find them less erotic than spanking (in truth, I distinguish, mentally, between spanking and caning).

Bottom line (pun intended):  I have used the cane, but it's just not the same.

Anyway, enough of that.  Half of my childhood was spent on a ranch in California (moving back and forth between parents).  When my father died, and I became administrator of the estate, I spent 6 months living on it again, during which time I paid a visit to the farm store, and purchased a selection of actual riding crops.

RIDING CROPS
(from firmest to most flexible)

Blue

Length:  19.5” + handle (rubber grip)

Very firm shaft; no give

Open duck-bill end:  l = 2”, w = 1 ¼”

 

I like this one for its rigidity and narrow tip.  The way the whip end is open, rather than looped, makes a different sound, and sting as well.











 Horse Whip

Length:  1 yard, + handle (rubber grip)

Width:  tapers 1 cm – ½ cm

Firm shaft, but a little flexible

Loose whip end:  l = > 6”

Unlike most crops, this does not have a wide leather tip.  Instead, it has a short, braided string, to give it an extra sting, similar to the short whip-sticks that carriage drivers use.  On a human, it can be used for the typical specific sting like a normal crop (albeit a stronger sting!), or as a narrow cane.

Black Bell

Length:  17” = handle (rubber grip)

Bell-shaped loop end:  l = 1 ½”, w = tapers 1” – 2”

 

The widened, bell-shaped leather on the end of this crop changes the aerodynamics, and therefore, the feeling of the impact.

Black

Length:  20” + handle (rubber grip)

Shaft is braided plastic

Softer suede loop end:  l = 2”, w = 2” –notched corners






 

 This is the only crop I own that is not "authentic"--not actually sold to use on horses.  This one was purchased in an adult fetish store in New York City.  The notched sides of the end of the loop give this crop yet another aerodynamic, as does the more flexible shaft and more mobile suede end.

Green 

Length:  24” + handle (rubber grip)

Shaft is braided plastic—a little more flexible than #1

Stiff leather loop end:  l = 3”, w = 2”, & 1 cm notched hole

This crop has a notch in the center, which, if you flick it quickly enough, will whistle a bit--enough to let the spankee know it is coming...

CANES

Rattan Cane 

[Okay, here's the part where, suddenly, blogspot's formatting has changed, and I can't shape things as I have been all along!  Soooooo frustrating!]

Length:  30”

Width:  1cm

(oooh...got it to work...wish me luck!)

The bow in the center of the shaft changes the impact of the cane, depending on which way the cane is facing.

Rod

Length:  27”

Width:  1 cm

Hard rubber or plastic

Fairly flexible

I used to think the use of this was like "spanking with a cane".  It's heavy, so gives a cane-like sting, combined with a paddle-like "thud".

"Intense Impact" Cane

Length:  18 ¼” + 6” handle (molded rubber grip)

Width:  Tapers 3/8” – ¼”         

Solid plastic shaft—rigid, but with some give

This is my latest acquisition.  I found it on Amazon, for less than $20.  They gave it that title--it's what I meant by a "lap cane".  It's short, easy to hold, and could easily be used for an over-the-knee spanking.

Wood Slat

Length:  30”

Width:  ¾”

Thickness:  < ¼”

Sanded, with rounded edges

This is simply a thin, flat, narrow strip of wood that I found lying around the house--one of those moments where you have no idea where the thing came from, but want it.  I sanded the sides, edges, and tips.  It's light, and feels something like a ruler, but can't be used too hard without breaking.

Whip Antenna

Length:  up to 21 ½” (telescoping)

Width:  > ¼” - < ¼”

Very light aluminum

This is a car antenna that had broken off ("whip antenna" is the technical term, not my doing).  I would never decide to use this on someone, unless they wanted or needed, and could handle, severe pain.  This is the kind of implement that, if misused, would easily break the skin, which I would never want to do.

Most of these I have never used, except in play or demonstration--a quick couple of flicks with each crop, to see how they differ.  Some I would like to use in certain situations (I do like to use the cane in a "schoolgirl" scenario, but have far less interest in having it used on me than most of my toys), and others I have no interest in using, but they fit well in the collection.

More to come.........