The Collection, Part 1

A MONTH AND A HALF????  My poor blog has been neglected for far too long!  I offer my most sincere apologies!  To ease back into it, this will be a multi-part entry.

By nature, I am a collector.  I collect a great number of things:  CD's, DVD & VHS movies, rocks & crystals, clothing, photos, art, books of many different genres, comic books, music scores & sheet music, jigsaw puzzles, chess sets, anything to do with Alice in Wonderland........the list can go on and on.  I even collected stickers when I was a child.  Perhaps my most secret of collections is of spanking implements.  Being a colossal nerd, I make lists and categorize many of my collections, as personal, if perhaps futile projects.  Here is part one:

HOUSEHOLD ITEMS

These are normal, everyday items that have either been retired from their originally intended purposes, or purchased with spanking in mind.

The hairbrush:

            Length:  10” (5 ¼” + handle)

            Width:  > 3 ¼”

            Thickness:  wood 3/8”

    Light, varnished wood; square shaped

    Plastic tipped solid plastic sparse bristles

This is my absolute favorite spanking implement.  I love the smooth feel of its backside, and delight in the popping sound as it strikes another backside.  I like the feel of it in my hand, as well as on my bare bottom.  I have been spanked with this very brush, and have used it on several girls.


I do love women's hair--love to play with it, and love to brush it--so this is my most versatile toy.





Bathbrush:

            Length:  14” – 4” long head

            Width:  2 ¾” at widest

Satin Wood, and Moderately soft boar bristles

Very smooth finish, slightly curved back.

Heavy.

I don't know where this brush came from originally.  I think it was my father's, but it was unopened in a closet.  I have never had an opportunity to use it, but it is a beautiful instrument.

Small Wooden Spoon:



            Length:  14”

            Width:  1 ½” at widest

Unfinished, smooth wood.  Very light.  Rounded front and back

Very light, round handle

I have used this spoon on a girl.  I will talk more about her later, after I've shown all the implements I used on her.  This was lovely, except the handle is so small that it made my hand fatigue from having to grip it so tightly.  I need to wrap it with something to thicken it.

Wooden Spatula:

            Length:  slanted edge; 11 ½” – 12”

            Width:  > 2 1/8” at widest

            Thickness:  ¼”

Slightly curved serving end, with tapered edge

Light, but wide handle

I've had this spatula since before I went to college.  It's an old friend...and well worn.

Slotted Spatula:



          



            Length:  12”

            Width:  2 ¾” at widest

            Thickness:  tapers from 3/16”

Bamboo spatula—very light, flat bottom

2 holes, 2” long x 3/8” wide

I used this for cooking until it cracked.  Because of the split, it's great as a panty-warmer, but I wouldn't use it on bare skin.

Name Ruler:

            Length:  12” (of course)

            Width:  1 1/8”

            Thickness:  1/8”

Hard foam, very light and somewhat flexible

I've had this ruler since first or second grade.  It has my name on it (sorry...darkened out to protect the..."innocent").  I love rulers as spanking implements.  There's something so sincere, as well as youthfully realistic about spanking with a ruler.  They also enhance my schoolgirl penchant.  This one is very smooth and light, but has a thickness to it, so it should leave some pretty lines.

Blue Ruler:

            Length:  12”

            Width:  1”

            Thickness:   1/8”

            Light wood, blue

This ruler is wooden, and matches the next item...

Yardstick:

            Length:  36” (of course)

            Width:  > 1”

            Thickness:  ½ cm

            Light wood, blue

My grandmother was an elementary school teacher.  This, and the previous ruler, belonged to her.  I wonder if she ever used them the way I would like to use them?

Rubber Ruler:

            Length:  12”

            Width:  1 ½”

            Thickness:  1/16” with tapered edges

Purple, translucent plastic—very flexible!

This ruler is not actually rubber, but a flexible plastic.  Therefore, it doesn't have the same friction rubber would have.  It's smooth and slick...and stingy!  It's firm enough to hold its shape, rather than flopping around, but curves around a bottom beautifully.  When I saw this in a store, I could NOT leave without buying it!

******As a side note, trying to create this post has been the most frustrating experience! Blogger's formatting has been totally inconsistent--I often cannot make it do what it just did, and the preview looks nothing like what I've done:  every item of writing is centered, even though I've aligned everything to the left, and all the spacing's different from what I've done.  This took at least an hour longer than it should have, and I still can't make it look the way I want!

Self-spankers...wow!

As a professional dancer, I have a high tolerance for pain.  The first time I went to a chiropractor--one who worked on Broadway dancers--we discussed this phenomenon.  He began to work on my back, saying, "Tell me when this starts to hurt--wait...no...you're a dancer."  He informed me that dancers most often will not register pain, so would remain silent, even at a point when a non-dancer would be screaming.  He's right.  Pain is a regular part of our training, and often, our art.

That, coupled with a long medical history--including such gems as: herniated disk, unusually sharp bone spur, kidney stone, ulcerative colitis, scarlet fever, chicken pox, numerous ear infections, chronic headaches & frequent migraines, multiple epidurals, innumerable blood tests & shots, long hours of physical therapy, and the usual sprains and strains--has inured me to pain, generally (I had a very ill childhood :(   ).

That being said, a few nights ago, after hearing my roommate leave the apartment, I let a whim take me:  I took my flat, square-ish, wooden hairbrush from my nightstand drawer, bared my bottom and, standing straight upright, gave myself a quick ten swats, alternating five on each cheek.  I was shocked at how much each swat stung!  Admittedly, I don't do this very often, so my bottom's not accustomed to it; and I have little padding there, especially with the Ballet classes I've been taking lately.  Still, it surprises me (a difficult thing to do, really) just how sensitive my bottom is to a little spanking.  This does not deter my desires one bit--I still strongly crave to be given a real, out-of-my-control spanking by a woman; the same kind of spanking I so immensely crave to give to a recalcitrant girl.

I am simply even more impressed by those who practice self-spanking.  It requires a great deal of willpower, determination, courage, and stamina, in my opinion.

I had one lover who, during phone-sex sessions, I would command to spank herself.  She was a nymphomaniac, who I introduced to spanking (I'll talk more about her in detail at a later date).  While on the phone with her, I had her take the wooden hairbrush I'd bought for her (and to use on her), and spank herself.  I could hear the swats connect, and her accompanying moans, but I'd often demand that she spank harder.  Eventually I would tell her to push the handle of the hairbrush inside herself, and use it as a dildo until she came.  The voyeur in me loooooved these phone calls!  Apparently, so did a school friend of hers, who later admitted to having stood outside her dorm room door and listened.

If I can figure out how to do this right, here is one of my favorite self-spanking videos.  It's short, but I love the expressions on her face--you can tell she is truly punishing herself, but determined!

(Oh, thank God...I thought I'd lost this whole thing, but it saved itself as a draft!!!  Strike 2...)

(Ooooo-kay...guess I am unable to upload a video...strike 3...)

(Ahahahhahahahaaaaaaa *maniacal laughter*...it worked! ...maybe!)

The Return...

Wow...I can't believe my poor bloglet has been ignored for so long!  Here's a short true story, to ease back in...

My ex-step-mother (yes, you read that right) iterated this story to me, about some former neighbors.  I spent at least half of my childhood on a ranch in northern California (a mile from the Oregon state line).  The area is high-altitude desert, but is mostly flat--once a lake, that had been drained to create farmland.  We lived just at the bottom of the West Hill.  There was a small, ramshackle house across the road from us, just up the beginning of the hill.  For a brief time, the house was inhabited by my father's best friend, his young wife, and their newborn baby boy.  Visiting their house was the first time I ever witnessed a mother's breastfeeding a child.

...but that is not the story.

Several years later, after the family had moved to a nearby town, and my father had divorced my step-mother, she was visiting the mother.  By this point there was a second son, and the first, Christopher, was about 4 or 5 years old.  Apparently, it was past his bedtime, but his mother was having trouble getting him to stay in bed.  When he refused to obey, and got himself out of bed, she finally fetched a wooden spoon from the kitchen and spanked him, in the presence of my ex-stepmother.  I can still hear her voice saying something like, "If you git outta bed again I'm gonna spank yer butt.", with her slight country twang.  Christopher, once he'd stopped crying, remained undaunted, and he climbed out of bed again, coming back out to where the ladies were chatting.  He received another dose of the wooden spoon, and another admonishment, again being told that to disobey again meant another session of "spank yer butt".  Finally, little Christopher, still headstrong having subdued another bout of tears, climbed out of bed a third time, went to the kitchen to fetch the wooden spoon, brought the spoon to his mother, and said, "spank-a-my-butt".  If I remember correctly, the ladies were laughing too hard to even try to put Christopher back to bed.


On a personal note:
As I've mentioned before, the only implement I was ever exposed to was a belt, but most spankings for me were with a hand.  Apparently the actuality was close by, but the real use of other implements never even occurred to me--I had seen paddles, but never in someone's home, and never in use, or really even referred to.  I still kind of yearn to know what it would have been like to experience actual corporal punishment with a paddle or wooden spoon.  The whole idea of these implements as regularly used family tools somewhat stymies me, simply because they were never a part of my life at all.  Unfortunately, I don't believe I can ever truly know what they were like (I'm sure some would say I am fortunate in that, but it leaves a hole for me and my mind).  I can play or pretend (and have...), but to experience these things now is never quite real.  This goes for both giving and receiving spankings.  I desire...yearn...crave the reality that I think I cannot truly experience.  Perhaps I am wrong...that remains to be seen.

Anyway...here's a little picture for motivation (thanks, Facebook):

On pause...

My deepest apologies for my long absence (perhaps I deserve a punishment for temporarily abandoning my blog).  Among the many reasons are: I caught the cold from hell, which has taken weeks to recover from, and still continues to plague me a bit; I've been on a desperate quest for a new roommate--I think I found one today, finally; I've been working on a super-mega-project involving my computer, that will hopefully give me space to upload a bunch of photos so I can share them with you!--I still have a list of subjects, people, and experiences to write about, but I want to include visual stimuli; I've been trying to cat-proof my bedroom--my roommate is moving out, but his cat is staying here, and has been, up 'til now, barred from my bedroom (but if I continue to banish him once the roommate leaves, he will continue to sit outside my bedroom door and yowl).

I will be back in business very soon--perhaps as soon as tomorrow, depending on whether or not I can complete my day's list of urgent tasks in a reasonable amount of time.

Early spanking.

I was, indeed, spanked growing up.  My parents were divorced or separated for most of my childhood, and I moved often, going back and forth between parents, in California (and Oregon for a brief time).  My brother and I lived with my mother most often, during the schoolyear, but spent every summer with my father on a ranch.  I know that I was spanked more by my mother, but honestly cannot remember a single incident.  I don't think I ever went "over her knee", and don't believe there was ever structure to her spanking (no cornertime, no "sent to my room", no "wait until we get home..."); I believe she was a grab-your-arm-and-throw-a-few-swats-at-your-bottom spanker.  I only halfway remember being spanked like this because I recall being embarrassed at having been swatted in someone else's house during a visit.  My brother was the troublemaker, and was spanked much more often than I, especially by our mother.

Spankings from my father were a different matter.  I only recall being spanked by him a few times--maybe 6 or 7 in total; but I actually remember 2 spankings, and one almost-spanking.  With my father, we were sent to our rooms (living with my mother, my brother & I shared a room; but we each had our own room on my father's ranch).  We were rarely sent to our rooms, so if it happened, we were pretty muchly guaranteed to get a spanking.  After a horrendous, dreadful wait he would enter with a large, thick leather belt (which I still have).  As I recall, we were spanked on whatever we happened to be wearing at the time--of the two I remember, one was on the bare, and the other was on tighty-whities.  I don't have any idea how many times the belt came down, nor how long it took, just that I was always sobbing almost immediately (if I wasn't crying before the spanking even started). 

I was terrified of being spanked then, but I was never afraid of my parents.  Not  once did I think either of them didn't love me, nor feel abused.  I was a good kid, but was spanked when my behavior was not.  It was that simple.  Our spankings were only on our bottoms--although I do remember my mother slapping a face or two on rare occasions--and never with anything other than a hand or that belt.  Our mother only once threatened to spank my brother with what she reported to having received as a child:  a red leather cord, maybe a quarter-inch thick, that was still hanging in her closet in my grandparents' house...

...which has always made this picture by Sassy Bottoms one of my favorites

Although the irony of it was incomprehensible to me as a youth, I not only found spanking terror-inducing, but also confusingly erotic.  As my age progressed, my terror began to supersede my sexual affinity for spanking less and less--I still had no desire to be spanked, but found it more and more arousing.  The very last parental spanking I received was from my father, in the previously described manner; but, although I did cry, the majority of the discomfort I felt was from my disjointed erection that was tormentingly crooked, pressing against the inside of my underwear, that I didn't dare to reach down and rearrange for fear that its presence would be known.

I was only once spanked by someone that  was not a relative.  While traveling through California (which we did often with my mother), we would often stop and visit the family of one of my mother's childhood friends.  We referred to her as "Aunt Susan", but did not call her husband "uncle".  They had two children who were of comparable ages to my brother and I, but his counterpart was a beautiful girl (who I had something of a crush on).  I don't remember details (apparently being spanked as a child was such an intense experience for me that I was actually unaware of my surroundings), but I believe that all four of us kids were spanked--the older ones first, then we younger ones, with a belt, standing up, over our clothes.  It was not nearly as painful as being spanked by my father, but a few tears were shed.  I wish I could remember having watched the older girl's being spanked, but even if I had seen it, I think I wouldn't remember it.

In fact, I have never witnessed, first hand, a girl's getting a spanking.  The closest was standing outside the doorway to an apartment, the young girl who lived there was arguing with the girl next to me when her mother appeared behind her and applied a sharp, loud swat to her bottom.  The girl let out a noise in surprise, then opened into a loud, open-mouthed wail, akin to the onset of a siren, as the door closed.

That is the extent of my childhood spanking experiences.  I sometimes wonder, though; would things have been different for me if I had a sister.......?

Word!

I am a big proponent of words.  I do believe very strongly in semantics, and am usually very careful with the words I choose.  Ironically, I also believe that words are never sufficient to convey even a fraction of a thought they're being used to represent.  Still, words are interesting and powerful.

I recently finished more than a year of physical therapy--visiting a physical therapist twice a week, and up to 4 & 1/2 hours of P.T. exercises every day--first for a herniated disk, overlapped by a minor ankle surgery.  Not long ago, there was a P.T. "volunteer" who basically shadowed my therapist (P.T. students earn practicum hours by working for no pay at a P.T. center).  The place I was going specializes in dancers and dance injuries, so this volunteer was a tall, slender, beautiful young lady with a dancer's body.  As you can probably imagine, I already had enough trouble keeping my eyes (and sometimes my tongue) in my head at this place, and I had to put out extra effort to keep from locking my eyes onto Katie's lovely, lithe limbs.

I've known my physical therapist for a number of years, having been her patient several times before (the lot of a professional dancer), and we often talk about her family and personal life.  One particular session, my therapist was discussing a boy in her young son's ballet class, who was barred from returning (pun intended--dance humor, for those who know...), and the conversation turned to "class clowns", who tend to get others in trouble while remaining unscathed.  The very friendly, good-natured Katie joined the conversation with a story of how she once got into trouble:  she and her sister were watching a horror movie, and her sister (as all siblings are required to do) startled her, to which she reacted with a scream.  Apparently, in her household, screaming was prohibited so she got in trouble with her father, despite her reasoning with him that the fault was not hers.  This was an interesting story, appropriate for the conversation and told well (despite my abridged version); but it took a sharp turn in my deviant mind when she finished with the sentence that instantly seared into my memory forever, "So yeah...spanked."

With that one dangled word, a floodgate of curiosity (and desire, quite frankly) opened in my head, most of which I had to immediately quell, both in order to concentrate on the exercises I had to do for the rest of the session, and to make sure I showed no physical evidence of where my thoughts went (if you know what I mean--I was wearing tights...)!  There are so many things I still wish I could ask her--firstly about her story's specifics.  How old was she when this took place?  Was she spanked right there in front of her sister, or taken into another room?  Was her bottom clothed, or bared for the spanking (she's from the South, so the traditions are different from my own childhood, and therefore extremely intriguing to me)?  Was she spanked with an implement--a paddle or belt?  How long did the spanking last?  Was she sent to her room afterward (if she wasn't already there), or to a corner, or did she return to the couch she had been sharing with her sister? 

These questions led to more general questions and thoughts about her spanking life.  I imagined (fantasized) that this spanking happened within the last year (she never indicated how long it had been since the story took place).  I pictured this adult Katie over her father's knee, being paddled with a hairbrush on her bare bottom, and contrasted that in my mind with the idea of a teenage Katie getting the same.  I wonder, still, when she was last spanked, or if her family continues to implement (pun!) spanking to this day.  I wonder what items she's been spanked with.  I wonder if, like me, she has any desire to have spanking in her current life.  Most of all, I wonder what that incredibly lovely bottom would look like, smirking up at me from across my lap, painted in pink from the strident caress of my palm.

All these thoughts still haunt me, just from the casual utterance of that word: "spanked".  The word "spank" has always had this power over me.  Hopeful excitement courses through my veins upon hearing it, and disappointment crushes me to hear it used as a misnomer.  The word itself is taboo; I rarely speak it aloud, and crave hearing it from others.  There is an innocence to the word, intertwined with pure eroticism.  That is a big reason why it can be so sensual to be made to say it, or make someone say it; why I love to hear someone required to ask for a spanking.

There are a few words that affect me in this way, and always have.  When talking about spanking, I use the word "bottom", which I rarely use among normal acquaintances.  Again, "bottom" carries with it a sense of innocence for me, and the word seems to have the onomatopoeic curve of the area it describes--smooth and soft--just as "spank" carries the sound and impact of its corresponding action, but with a cheerfulness that makes me smile.  I am intensely affected by the word "panties", and, despite loving the sound of the word, have difficulty saying it aloud.  I was aware of my passion for panties at a very young age, even before I acknowledged my affinity for spanking.  Finding the concepts somehow related, I am ensorcelled by bottoms clad in panties, especially when those bottoms are being spanked!

There are phrases that are effective too:  "over-the-knee" has become haphazard to me, but "over my knee" has much more erotic effect for me.  On the other hand, many words and phrases turn me off.  One girl that I gave a few spankings to referred to them as "hitting"--which left my passion entirely soured.  Even worse, I despise hearing a lot of swearing from a spanker!  There are some spanking video sites that do this often, and I cannot bear to even watch their wares; hearing a "mother" using horrific language while spanking her "teenage daughter" implies terrible, unloving parenting to me, which slaughters the innocence and care that I find so enticing in spanking.  The same is the case for the teacher/student scenario:  I would have no respect for any teacher who swears at students--respect is an essential part of spanking, even in a fantasy scenario (I'm not talking about master/mistress domination stuff here--although there still is a respect even there, at least from the submissive)!

I find it fascinating that two words that mean the same thing can have such different effects on me.  A "spanking" delights me, but a "whipping" does nothing.  A "paddling", however...... *impish grin*

I would love to hear what words affect you, Dear Reader!

Rock ON!

I'm FINALLY posting again!  I've had a subject brewing in my mind for days, but I am post-poning it (yes, all puns are intended!) for this one:

I have always loved finding spanking scenes in mainstream(ish, at least) media, whether in books, movies, or music (THANK you, Madonna, for "Hanky Panky"!).  My most recent discovery is in the movie "Rock of Ages", which, thanks to the gods of Netflix, I have finally seen.  During Catherine Zeta-Jones's number, "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", while she and the ladies are singing in a chapel, her husband, played by Bryan Cranston, is in another room being dominated--and spanked with a ruler--by his mistress (not the leather-and-spikes kind, just the he's-a-politician-having-an-affair kind).  The spanking scene is very short, flashing back and forth between the chapel and brief glimpses of the steamy scene, but it's still very effective, despite a touch of tongue-in-cheek (again, all puns...).  Within the vignette, the mayor, Cranston, has his wrists bound with a rosary, then is pushed forward into a bent position over a desk, with his forehead resting on an open bible.  His mistress picks up a ruler and gives it a test-smack into her open palm, then grabs the back of his slacks.  When she jerks them down, his head lifts suddenly in seeming wary surprise.  Along with the rhythm and lyrics of the song, Cranston's mistress spanks his underwear-clad bottom; first with single smacks, then rapid ones (only four...to fill the musical phrase).  This vignette ends with a shot of Cranston's face cartoonishly reacting to an obscured spanking behind him, complete with goofy non-verbals.  Still, the scene was quite enjoyable.

Here are some screen-shots:

I love the look on her face in the last one, as if she's very calmly and sweetly doing what needs to be done.