Work really, really, really, really, really, REALLY sucks

I mean, it sucks so bad I am beginning to get the paranoia that comes about when one suspects one is being used unwittingly in a social psychology experiment.

We have traveled *way* past the realm of merely stupid or out of touch.

We have left Kansas.

We have left Earth. Hell, we have left the laws of physics.

My job is floating in it's own little self referencing universe with laws I don't grok. Somehow I travel to it via a wormhole that exists somewhere on the freeway...

Quantum physicists need to come study it. Really. It is that outrageous. They will discover new particle behaviors that exist nowhere else in the universe. Apparently these rogue particles have profound effects on the human brain.

I want to quit, move to rural Nevada where nobody will bug me, and start a spanking/colonic clinic.

Jeesh.

SL Continued...

Saturday:

M, D, and I ate together before the Schoolboys In Disgrace party. We processed the scene from the night before. I did see the potential of a well placed spanking scene to clear up relationship irritations as D and I did end up having a 2 way conversation on news, our respective needs for companionship and independence, etc. I thanked M for helping out. Cafe service was extremely slow, so I ended up harrassing the waitress, getting harrassed in return, snarfing my food, then clearing out and running upstairs for the Schoolboys party.

That party was insane. We had at least 10 female tops and about 30 men coming in and out of the room. The men I got to play with were delightful and I was gratified to see that each man got at least 3 trips over the laps of his choice. It was at this point that I began to percieve the benefits of being on an exercise program vs not--especially before a party. I pooped out! The last 3 guys received my cane in a traditional style. Fortunately they were warmed up for it and I did not hear any complaints. The cane proved to be a great lazy (or just plain pooped) Top's toy as I was quite eager to give the bottoms the 30-60 seconds they needed between strokes to process the sensation. One fellow did get my ire up as he had been bratting me all weekend. This earned him an ear tug to the bedroom in the party suite and then quite a hairbrushing and caning as he continued to run his mouth. He later said this scene was a bit too disciplinary for a party (well, I had been under the assumption that very persistent brats want to be subdued) but he also asked for an even more intense private scene. Unfortunately I did not get to him before he left Vegas, so he is definitely at the top of my list for next year.

The energy and enthusiasm of this party was high enough to turn the suite into a sauna halfway through, despite the general chill in the hotel and the fact we had the A/C cranked as low as it would go. I was happy to see more switch females stepping up to help with this party this year. Being a single male spanking bottom is often the pits at weekends like this, so to be able to give everyone in attendance as much spanking as they wanted to handle was quite rewarding.

After this party I rushed off to a double bottom caning and figging scene. One bottom was a fellow I had played with before and the other was someone whom I had just met. Said male bottom had decided my topping style might be quite salutory to this particular female brat ;-).

I usually don't have such a deep or successful scene with someone I have never played with before. However, I was able to read her well, I think--as well as read from him what might work for her. She went from mouthy brat to subdued to floating around somewhere in the Pleiades Cluster in the space of an hour. The energy was absolutely yummy at the end of the scene and I ended up alternating between tapping their plugs to keep their endorphins going and simply giving them both simultaneous back massages as I drank it all in. I ended up a gooey puddle myself as I rested with them for aftercare. I wandered back to my room and fell asleep in a very happy haze.

Our next event was the "prom." I dressed in a simple little black dress and had D dress in a white shirt. I spent the better part of the first hour checking in on the folks who had bottomed to me that day. I then danced with D and then hooked him up with as many women as I could until he wore out from dancing. My Phoenix friends were there too in absolutely fabulous, albeit uncomfortable, Victorian attire. Eve leaned in close to me on one occasion and told me she had heard I had performed the "Victorian trifecta." Well, not quite. I had performed all three components but not on the same people. The rumor did persist, much to my amusement, throughout the party. I am not sure who, besides possibly my Phoenix friends, started it. ;-)

Now, for the observent among you, there are no doubt questions about what became of the Victorian Trifecta I was supposed to bottom to. It did not happen, alas. Sunday went a bit wonkers and after that I was in no fit shape for it. However, the winner of the Superbowl bet has promised to "roast me good" early next SL party so I don't think I am completely off the hook.

After the Ball I spent a brief time in a suite party waiting for the bottom of my next session. I got to say hello to the party organizers as well as many other folks. My bottom showed up at this point and we played privately. I got the feeling from her that I needed to nurture more than do anything else, so I used hands and floggers for about an hour and focussed on pushing as much gentle love and positive regard into her as I could muster. I did proceed to canes and catharsis did result. I spent the next bit of time being as present with this person as I could. There are some who give continually to others, whether those others are in the spanking community or the vanilla world. This person is definitely one of those and I was more than happy to try to give her a bit back. This scene, as well as the figging and caning scene, stood out as a favorite party moment. I got her back to her room after this and crashed for the night.

Sunday:

A group of us got together to go to a Sunday brunch at another hotel. It was a bit like herding cats for the poor organizer to get us together, but the brunch was worth it. The organizer was most generous in treating us at no small cost. The Spumoni was especially good with bits of whole candied cherries and small chocolate chips.

The feast *was* good--however the resulting fight between it and the Mexican food I had eaten the night before was not so good. No, it was not a case of food poisoning--just a case of traveler's gut and overindulgence. I was supposed to bottom to some enema play. After my bad reaction that was rendered both unnecessary and potentially painful in a bad way. The Superbowl bet was not satisfied, and the poor brunch organizer was not able to get his planned licks in either. The scene we had planned turned into a gentle paddling scene, but to his credit he was able to get me to subspace despite the fact I was still feeling out of sorts.

Note to self: bottom *early* in the party. I am *not* a natural bottom. For reasons I can't explain completely it requires more energy for me to bottom than top. I really have to work on my head space and I can't do it well if I am even a bit tired. It is fantastic when it works well, but sometimes it is like chasing a damned unicorn. *sigh*

I did try to get some sleep after this but I felt restless and emotionally a bit perturbed for no apparent reason. I was on the verge of dozing off when my cell phone rang. One of my Phoenix friends had been nursing a respiratory bug all weekend and was now in trouble. I tore down to the cafe, attracting the attention and assistance of some other SL partygoers when they saw the look on my face. There was not much I could do except recommend the person see a health professional. I tried, with no success, to get the name of a 24 hour urgent care from the front desk. My friend's Domme drove her to the nearest hospital ER and D and I went back to the cafe and morosely ate soup and worried. Soup was about the only thing we could keep down. After this I booked my room for an extra night as I had previously been planning to leave Monday. I called my friends and offered them middle of the night help if they ran into a long ER wait as well as early AM packing help if they were able to leave as planned. After this we returned to the hotel room. I watched the news voluntarily and fretted, waiting for the phone to ring. Fortunately it rang around 10PM. My friend did not have to be hospitalized and she got scripts for some good drugs. I spent a fitful night tossing around and kept checking their room in the early AM in case they needed help getting out. I finally passed out around 7:30 AM and they were on the road by the time I woke back up.

Monday:
Today turned out far better than I expected. I slept until just after noon, then rather morosely wandered down with D for coffee and a dip in the pool. I was starting to experience a nasty case of Top drop and was still worried about my friends. My interest in gambling rests somewhere between 0 and -5 depending on my mood so I was very bored. Fortunately I did find a nice group of SL stragglers at the pool. We got to talk and ultimately walked over to a restaurant across the street to eat a meal together. DJ Bob put on a hilarious act as a burned out Las Vegas tour guide as we passed by street contruction and a large fenced in pit. I negotiated with him to be spanked as he said he had some play left in him. The scene was delightful and a good post party hangover remedy. After this we reconvened to a very small gathering in Margaret Davis's room. The party pomp was over and we were ready to just sit and chat. D and others got their behinds warmed briefly, but mostly people seemed to want to talk and get to know each other better. This was definitely another favorite party moment.

SL Party Report...

We will see how far I get today:

Thursday:
The drive was nice, though I am not sure I am the long road trip sort. Last year I was able to share the duty with D and an automatic transmission rental car. My financial stars were not so well aligned this year, so I was the sole driver of my stick shift pickup. We arrived at the hotel, unloaded the truck, and promptly ate. After that I started to look for fellow party goers. I was debating with myself already whether to crash in bed or find the party. I got to reconnect with Mr. Shiny a bit after a year and also got to know our delightful room neighbors. After this D, myself, and a couple of other folks went off in search of The SL Thursday Group--or at least a group. It was at this point fatigue proved itself to be the better part of my valor. I was just not up to socializing and felt some funky energy off the group we kept running into, so I excused myself and turned in.

Friday:
I got up with D, got cleaned up, ironed my shirt, curled my hair, ate my breakfast (yes, this dry recitation of my AM routine DOES have a point), and tidied up the room. I then announced my departure. D looked at me with his innocent and genuinely puzzled blue eyes and asked why I was in such a hurry. The man was still in his tighty whities, unfed, unbathed, and watching the news. I debated whether or not to stay while he ate--quiet room breakfasts were supposed to be part of this trip. However, the rambling MSN cable health care debate was now giving me a headache and I wanted to meet some people already. So I excused myself and went to the cafe downstairs.

I ran into a couple of my Phoenix friends who had arrived after I had retired for the night. They had just ordered their breakfast. They asked where D was and without much thought I stated he was "dawdling." The breakfast came and they ate as I sipped coffee. D came down just as they were leaving and appeared genuinely shocked that they were off so soon. We sat and talked to others as the tables simply changed SL hands. I then helped a friend sort out his SL group lunch plans as the restaurant he had intended to use was not going to be open. We then had a delightful lunch with about 25 SLers. The group was growing even as I left for my first session.

It was after this I had my first scene with an LV local. This was a spanking/punishment enema scene and the energy was just as good as it was last year. This fellow does not fly--he just howls (evil giggle). Yeah, I had fun. I am not sure what attracts some bottoms to more punishing scenes (I am not that kind of bottom). However, I am certainly glad such bottoms exist.

I was pretty spent after this so I sacked out for a nap, then got ready for the Vendor's Faire with Dana. I wore an austere black outfit that apparently brought at least one fellow back to his catholic school days. From what I learned some nuns were allowed to ditch the habit in more recent years for something akin to what I wore.

It was here that the party finally caught up with D. Now, my Phoenix friends have (had) this wonderful paddle made of a Hawaiian wood. It met an unfortunate initial demise when it first met D's behind and finally gave up the ghost on the next behind it encountered. What I did not know is that C (one of my Phoenix friends) sent the paddle back to it's maker for "recycling." She recovered enough of the orginal wood to make a smaller piece--then backed it up with a slightly softer wood for greater durability. The resulting paddle has since been dubbed "Gemini." The maker looked at me innocently and told me it was a "heaven and hell" piece as one of the sides *is* made of a softer wood. After seeing it in action I decided that "hell and purgatory" is a more accurate descriptor. This puppy is not gonna break.

"M"--my other Phoenix friend--weilded it with enough of a vengeance to get to my experienced, kevlar upholstered partner and at one point brought him to his knees. Few things truly get to D--but he was rubbing his posterier like a truly chastened little boy after this encounter. Of course M and I spent the rest of the Vendors Faire reminding him that his *real* session was coming up afterwards!!

I attended the switch men vs women party afterwards without much of a thought to D's fate. That event was quite a hoot. Since the women were outnumbered 2 to 1 we got to choose our spankers when we lost a competition and use implements on the losers if we won. I was nice (hey! I can be nice!) since I did not know many of the guys there. Well, mostly nice. Sorta. I did leave the canes alone.

I went in search of D afterwards and eventually found him in our room. Now, like many male bottoms I have met, D has been in search of the elusive cathartic scene for most of his scene life. Apparently, he got it. He was in a *very* chastened place that also happened to orbit the planet Pluto.

I deconstructed it later with the top. Now, remember I had briefly mentioned D's "dawdling" earlier in the day. She used that to scold him, and as the scene progressed whaled on his already tenderized butt with canes. Apparently the "dawdling" scolding hit some deeper places within him and he was able to let go.

This definitely gave me pause. Now, I am quite able to do cathartic scenes, help people release their guilt if that is their desire, and also do punishment scenes *if asked* by the bottom. Where I fall short though is in *creating rules* and then enforcing them. It is not that I can't create rules--it is just that placing another person under *my* authority gives me the squicks. I have enough skeletons and ghosts in my closet regarding authority figures to populate an entire haunted house. Feeling evil in the real (albeit false) sense does not make for good top space.

Yet--I did see how D benefited. He is *not* the sort who is ever going to ask directly for discipline. He does need it though. I talked to M about helping me. In the long term I am not sure if I can get past this block myself, or if I am going to have to send D to someone else on occasion to give him what he needs. M, fortunately, is someone who I trust enough to go either way with.

I will say though that D did not dawdle for the rest of the trip--and I did not have to book a separate room to avoid non-stop news related headaches.

More later...

Back From Vegas

I will write some party reports when I feel less tired and dizzy. Went over the damn Dam which cut at least an hour off the return trip but it was still bloody long. I ended up staying an unexpected extra day which was rather nice.

More later...

No, I did not remove your website from my links on purpose

Sigh.

EDIT: Rebuilt it. If I left off yours and I had it on there before, please comment.

The Islander

I finally remembered my durned password, which means I was able to update that blog.

Transferable skills

One of my coworkers refuses to go to the doctor. She has had the same cold for days and we work with some folks who don't have the greatest hygiene or greatest immune systems.

So today I had enough. I went to her, looked her over in a stern way, and said "You are going to see the doctor, yes?" I provided a brief explanation why I thought this behavior might be desirable.

*pause*

"Can I wait until after work?"

I was floored--she had shrugged off everyone else who had made the same suggestion. Finally I asked her what it was about my approach that actually got her to commit to seeing the doctor.

She winced a bit and said: "Well, you told me your concerns--but mostly it is that scary mother look you get. You looked like you are going to spank me!"

No, this person has no clue. I swear!

Apparently this stuff we do starts to show after a while.

Ranting about Bad Doms

*sigh*

I've seen and heard a *lot* recently so if you think this is directed at you--it is probably not.

A lot of us run around with very, very dark fantasies. We want to be owned, dominated, disregarded, punished intensely, used as an object, treated in an arbitrary way, interrogated cruelly, depersonalized, tortured--you get the idea. Or maybe we are on the other side of such fantasies.

This is no reason to let down your guard. Real predators are out there. You don't want them. No, really, you don't. Really. I don't care how desperately much you want to be treated as the mere muddy carpet remnant your Master Treads Upon. You Don't Want A Predator!

Red flag time, folks. Now the presence of these in any individual does not automatically make them a Creep. But if you see a bunch of them--just dig a bit deeper. Slow down. Get references.

1. Does the person seem to be "bigger than life" or "extraordinary"? How about extraordinarily charming?

2. Do you find yourself sharing things with this person almost immediately that you would take weeks or months to share with any other mere mortal?

3. Do you find yourself allowing them liberties that you would not allow most people?

4. Do they present themselves as being extraordinarily intelligent--and flaunting it? Dig deeper. Check out their facts. Hell, check out their *grammar*. Yeah, occasionally I've run into an arrogant genius. More frequently I run into arrogant posers who sprinkle their conversation with a bunch of big words. Often these words are mis-used. I avoid these folks on principle.

5. Are they vague about their past? Do they claim that they have done extraordinary things, but are skimpy on details when you press them?

6. Do they avoid the community? Do they have any friends? Have you seen their friends? Do they go on and on about how inferior the "community" or "society" is?

7. Do they think there is no such thing as "hard limits?" Do they believe you should have no limits? Do they consider your limits an imposition on their Grand Domliness? Hey--I am all for consensual limit pushing, if done skillfully. There has to be some respect and care though, regardless of the intensity of the role that is played.

8. Do they ever acknowledge or apologize for mistakes--to anyone? What is the quality of their apology? Small and forced if cornered--or appropriate?

9. Do they ever self disclose? Do they ever indicate they have feet of clay like the rest of us?

10. Do they continually say they are not some sort of creep or are not engaging in some sort of Annoying Behavior? We all will say things occasionally like "I don't mean to dominate the conversation," especially if we know we have that tendency. In conscientious folks this statement will be accompanied by an honest, if imperfect, attempt not to do that thing. Some folks will use such statements as a cover though. If someone says "I don't mean to dominate the conversation" and they *always* do, start looking for other similar examples.

11. Do they find ways to isolate you? Do you find yourself, for whatever reason, spending much less time with old friends? Certainly any relationship takes up time--but keeping your friends and ties are your best defense. You need the reality check. There are lots of tricks a person can use to isolate someone. They don't have to be as overt as "you can't see so and so anymore." Generally they won't be that overt--you will just find yourself becoming more and more isolated.

13. Do they switch frequently from mean to nice--always with an excuse for the mean? We all do this on occasion, though generally with an apology and a reason. Daily switches though are too much. Excuses with no apology are, well, inexcusable.

14. Do you think you are "wrong" all of the time? Are you starting to feel "crazy" or "bad"? If you weren't crazy, bad, or perpetually wrong before, you probably are not now. Some people have a nifty way of dumping their crazy on others and then denying anything to do with it.

15. Does the person appear to fill some longing need in you? Do they seem perfect for you in every way? If it seems too good to be true....

16. Oh, and the last one for today. Do they act impatient or defensive when you ask to slow down and check references? Do they hint that theirs is an offer you must accept *now* or lose forever? Don't fall for the used car salesman routine. No inspection, no sale.

There is a difference between a predator and a responsible Dom with an objectification, degradation, humiliation, punishment, or total power exchange fetish. The latter possesses a conscience. They will give you a great ride, but will not want to break their toy. The former....may just not want to get caught in the event they do break their toy.

And yes, these items apply to subs as well.


Not an inclusive list, but I am done for the day. I feel much better now. /Rant

Another victim of the economy :-(

Fetish Alive, a local fetish consignment store/dungeon, is closing July 31st. This is the place that has hosted a couple of our open invitation Sun Valley Spankos parties. I just feel crappy for the owners right now. I also feel crappy for many of the regular presenters who never really got a hearing elsewhere (including a foot fetishist who happens to be a class guy).

This sux.

:-(

I've been missed, apparently

Thanks J :-)

Not too sure I am ready to post yet. I've been dealing with some chronic health issues that have flared up recently and a bit of sturm und drang. Health issues seem to have settled a bit and I think I am on the backside of the sturm und drang--hopefully.

Had some cool things happen recently. Hopefully I can make them fresh enough when I attempt to post about them.

DD update: Rewards

Well, I am writing again. My brain has slowed down somewhat. I will see how it goes though...

My last attempt to convince D to exercise worked out well. After the discipline session I also offered a reward for good behavior. So tonight we are going out to his favorite restaurant for a meatloaf dinner. His exercise has been consistent and the computer area is now spotless (he mistook "keeping it clean" for "cleaning it every day" but I am inclined to let sleeping schedules lie).

I am going to try a monthly reward schedule with him. A "good boy" spanking will be a default unless he is sore from previous party adventures, but I also talked to him about other things he might want. So far we have meatloaf dinners, building up his music collection one CD at a time, and him being able to get a one month membership to a desired spanking site.

I am sure we will think of other things too. This makes a handy holiday list too, actually.

Of course I will take care of slip ups weekly and restart the reward clock then if needed.

So a question to the audience. Do you use rewards in DD? Do you like to receive them? If you do use them or receive them what are your favorites?

I know there is a difference of opinion on using rewards at all. Some have told me they don't use them because they want the person to do the action for the intrinsic benefit or for the sake of obedience. WRT to M/s relationships and some relationships tending towards D/s I do grok that philosophy. However for D, the things he needs help with are things that we all have trouble being motivated to do from time to time. Spanking or meatloaf helps him--setting a good example for him is helping me (I have a hard time looking him in the eye regarding an exercise dispute if I am not on *my* exercise plan).

It may be a bit before I post again

It won't be long. I am in a bit of a transformative phase right now and I need to simmer more than I need to write. I will be back next month for sure.

Shadowlane

I couldn't stand it. I just joined so I am waiting through the 48 hour processing period. D has been getting a bit of work so it was just time. I think joining just after a party is good too. Everyone will be there and I won't be chewing my thumbs off over missing a future party.

Going to Tucson this weekend

My Shadowlane consolation prize is going to end up being this weekend--though it turns out it won't have a whole lot to do with spanking. It will still be a blast. Look at _The Islander_ for a hint and stay tuned for a report there if you dare ;-). Next weekend I will be less busy--though I am doing a paddling demo for an SM 101 at one of our BDSM groups.

Judicial CP vs CP

This came up tonight and I realized that there *is* a difference in my mind. So I posted about it over at _The Islander_.

I turned word verification off

I am not sure why I had it on to begin with. I think I overlooked it when I set up this blog. "fackjar" was a bit over the top...

You can't make this stuff up

I shouldn't post today--I still have brain fog/irritability. But I am bored. Too sick to go to work (esp where I work) but not sick enough to be flat on my back in bed. So I will take my chances...

Anyhow, the dinner I referenced yesterday was very interesting. We went to a Sushi/Teppenyaki restaurant and reserved a Teppenyaki table. For anyone who has not gone to a Teppenyaki restaurant it is basically a combination of cooking and performance art. You sit family style at a table that contains a grill in the center. After you order a cook comes up and cooks your meal in front of you. It starts with the obligatory fireball that nearly sears off your eyebrows, then a little spatula drumming and juggling, and various antics with the food. This cook/performer had a gift with eggs. He could toss raw ones in the air and catch them on a metal spatula without cracking them.

So my techie spanko friend is the disciplinarian/mentor for a young female friend of the family. I will call her "M". Anyhow M was sitting next to me on one side, D on the other side. The techie spanko friend was there too with her husband. Anyhow, the cook comes up and start juggling eggs. One slipped and cracked on the grill and he said "I am going to have to spank that."

Yeah, you can imagine the reaction that got, esp. out of M. We were all hooting (somewhat to the puzzlement of the other family there) but M turned about 11 shades of red and tucked her head.

Well, this performer now had his act cut out for him and he ran away with it. He dropped another egg on purpose and stated he would have to spank that too (now M was 14 shades of red). He kept up a monologue of various things, catching eggs in his hat, juggling the spice containers, then threw a piece of chicken breast out on the grill.

"Spank that chicken. Who your daddy??" he exclaimed in an oriental accent as he proceeded to whack the chicken breast with his spatula. More juggling--the fried rice got put on plates and he asked the other family how they would like their steak done. They put in their orders and then he put the steak on the grill.

"Spank that steak!! Who your Daddy?? Now you spank that steak!!"

He handed the spatula off to M and kept asking her to spank the steak!!

She gave it a half hearted whack. I was howling myself at this point and could not longer contain myself, so I said "Spank that steak! You know you want to! You know you have it in you! Spank it or I will have to!!"

M gave me this look, sighed, and gave the steak a good whack.

"Very good! That how spank a steak!"

It took us all awhile to calm down enough to eat. I wonder what the conversation was like for the other family when they drove home.

No, you really can't make this stuff up.

D is OK...

He is an extremely heavy CP bottom. He is known in Phoenix for it. I definitely check my force with anyone else. Today--no marks except for some minor ones on his far sweet spot.

And yes, we will move on to other non-CP things if this does not work...

EDIT: part of why he got so many paddle strokes is because our friend *gave* us a rebuilt CPU (well, we bartered but it will take me time to work off my end of the barter). She was not amused to find the area had not been cleaned and no follow up initiated. If I had purchased one it would have been a different story from her end.

DD log

First of two posts about yesterday...

OK--last week was a rough one for D and I and he got off track on his exercise. I did not.

We went to a dungeon party yesterday after having some dinner with friends. Now, on my way to the dinner I notified him that he had 4 cane strokes coming for failing to exercise.

Then I realized something else. My hard drive did fail last week. The computer spanking episode was it's last gasp. It stayed on after that until I could arrange repairs. I have a spanko techie friend who came over Thursday to have a look. Basically the thing was DOA and would not turn on after we put it back together. Yes, my data got backed up before we turned it off.

Anyhow, we noticed that the CPU case was full of dust. Upon looking for the cause of said dust we noticed dust all over the desk and around it. D came in at that point and my friend notified him that he had an assignment to get rid of that dust. D agreed...

...And failed to tell me that he did not completely understand the assignment. He therefore failed to do it.

So as I was assessing him for 4 strokes I realized this and tacked a 5th stroke on.

Well, the friends we went to dinner with is actually the family of my spanko techie friend. This subject did come up, and she decided she needed to discipline him herself after my caning with 25 strokes from a very large, very holey frat style paddle.

Yikes!

Now, the reason I only assessed 5 strokes was because I realized in practicing the judicial caning that I had more ability with a cane than I realized. I can't do the 360 degree throw with a 4 ft cane safely quite yet but I certainly can with a 2 ft cane. That alone was no joke. I had ("had" being the key word here) 2 inexpensive everyday canes that became the "sacrifice". Both exploded on their second stroke leaving me with one more--which I did with a longer, much nicer cane my friend offered to me. That last stroke, D reported, was the most severe he has ever received. The man has a kevlar caboose--so I was impressed this got through to him.

He received quite the paddling from both of us afterwards.

When I am better I am going to rummage around and find that old discipline log I made last September. D needs more discipline than I thought and I need to start keeping track of it.

Judicial Caning II

I have a lot to post about from yesterday, but I am nursing some sort of bug (not a good one). So I am going to have to wait until later in the week before I will have the energy to give this stuff the justice it deserves. However, here is a short one for today.

I am starting to piece together this judicial caning deal. I looked around the Internet for video and found some useful stuff. I found some approaches to throwing the cane that will work better for me than taking a step. I also found that anything up to about 5 strokes (assuming they don't all land on the same spot) is within the realm of what your average heavy bottom can tolerate. That and I will never cane as hard as a male 10 years my junior. So while plenty of precautions have to be made in regards to intense practice and protecting the bottom, this seems doable. Apparently the very devastating pics one sees comes from 12-24 stroke canings. The first strokes cause welts and a bit of an abrasion wound--it is the second and third overlapping strokes that removes hide. Given the size of the cane relative to the backside about 6 is all that will fit there if the caner is extraordinarily skilled. After that overlaps are expected.

Anyhow, the fact that this seems doable is a good thing because I already have 3 bottoms asking for it and I am sure there is a 4th who will be hitting me up as soon as she hears about it. This thing is taking on a life of its own.

The idea of practicing every day seems good. Of all the implements out there I am finding that the cane speaks to me most of all--even more than the singletail (which is powerful enough for me in it's own right).

Now I need to construct a better cover for my martial arts target. I am thinking of using a largish pair of thrift store jeans. I can cut off most of the legs, make good use of some heavy sewing thread and then fill it up with sand. My biggest challenge will be hitting both cheeks evenly--so I need simulated cheeks. Later I will figure out how to create a kidney/wrap guard from some foam rubber and sturdy fabric. I like what the Malaysians use so I will reproduce that.

I will have to say--I do bottom to ordeal scenes on occasion but I think I'll pass on this particular one and keep to my hooks. I have found the limit to my "experience what you inflict" philosophy for sure. Anyone who bottoms to me on this is going to have to first prove their fortitude on a few different occasions before I will consent (and yes, the 4 bottoms I have in mind already have).

Judicial Caning

My newest skills acquisition project...

I don't have this completely figured out yet. If I take a step while swinging a 4ft judicial style cane with a 360 degree arc, that is a really, really hard stroke. I once hit my martial arts target with one of those--Dana heard it outside halfway to the mailboxes (a towel is a great sound muffler, I learned that day). I think it may be too hard to be realistic (unless the person in question is an uber-fit male ex-marine with a prison punishment fetish).

So I think it will go like this. I will practice the full stroke in the same spirit that my old martial arts instructor told us to practice both hard and easy stuff. Doing something at the high end of your ability makes the other stuff easy. I love it when a previously difficult skill turns into "effortless effort." Doing something challenging and mastering that really does the trick for the less difficult stuff. This is sort of the spanking equivalent of learning to break 5 boards (you have to be in really deep dog doo to have to use that much force in an actual fight but it is good to learn anyway).

But, in rl I think I am going to have to modify the stroke (no step, reduced arc, smaller cane, less force, etc). I already have a willing crash test dummy lined up for when I can go live. So my first session will definitely be an experiment erring on the side of caution. I am not far away from having this down--but a couple months of practice are still in order.

How a Technoretarded Spanko fixes a computer

I still can't believe it...

My computer started acting up a month ago or so by requiring more and more tries before it would successfully boot. We have been waiting on tax money to fix it, so we have been keeping it turned on to avoid a premature failure.

So today the tax money came in, and the monitor failed. Since the monitor failed we had to turn the machine off in the process of replacing it.

So we trotted down to Best Buy, got a new monitor, hooked it up--and could not boot after a dozen tries.

Now this week has sucked so far and this was the last straw for me so I sat staring at the TV while D tried to start the thing about a dozen times. He pointed out a clicking noise the machine was making before showing the blue screen of death.

It started to annoy me. Suddenly the idea popped in my head that maybe the CPU needed a spanking. No joke.

Actually I just wanted to shake things up in there because it suddenly occurred to me what the Dell dingbats probably did when they fixed it the last time. The sound has not been working (a loose audio card, maybe). Now the clicking and intermittent booting? Seems like they left a few screws loose to match the loose screws in their heads (Who, me? Have a grudge against Hell--er Dell. Nah!).

I figured rattling things around a bit when the clicking was happening might shake something into place long enough to boot the thing.

I was shocked as hell when it actually worked!

Damn.

I am fed up though. It is time I took a computer repair course (well once D gets employed). It is really getting under my skin that I have become so dependent on a piece of machinery that I can't make basic repairs to (besides component hookups and therapeutic spankings).

A quick whine

I *miss* the SL board, dammit.

I am hoping D gets a break soon on employment (he is following some promising leads). I wanna talk to my friends again!

I may end up breaking down and using some of that economic stimulus tax break $ on re-upping my membership. I am sure Tony and Eve can use it right about now.

What happened to the Domestic Discipline??

It's back.

It went away for a few months there because of stress. I had just gotten out of D back in September that he wanted a loose DD dynamic to our relationship. Nothing very stringent--it is just that there are a couple of good habits he wants to adopt.

Shortly after we started a DD plan the Economy struck, my job became a soap opera, and I got a bit depressed.

Well, the economy still stinks but we have gotten used to our new budget, the fellow causing the soap opera at work quit, and that ritual scene I participated in several weeks ago snapped me out of my funk. I've taken the necessary steps to stay out of the funk.

Which leads me to the little matter of D's wristwatch. Despite the small size of our condo we have 3 pieces of exercise equipment in one end of the living room. There is the NordicTrac and the Bow Flex that I use (along with a small collection of free weights) and then there is the stationary bike D is supposed to be using.

Now, I re-upped my exercise efforts as an antidote to the blues and was gratified over the last few days to see that D had his wristwatch on the "dashboard" part of the exercise bike. It was comforting. It meant he was working out and timing it. The man is very ritualistic with his stuff so I figured that watch was there with a purpose. I don't expect the man to turn into Charles Atlas--I just want him to maintain basic cardiovascular health.

Well, my exercise fantasy bubble got popped today when D asked me if I had seen his wristwatch. I told him it was on the exercise bike. He commented "Well that just shows how long it has been since I have used that watch!"

Ahem.

Once I collected my thoughts I told him that it was also an indicator of how long it had been since he had used that bike!

He had sworn up and down a few weeks ago that he could remember to exercise without the DD.

Apparently not.

So the DD is back. I told him it is back and to start using the thing 10 min a day, 5 days a week.

Later I playfully whacked him with a hairbrush. He lay on the bed and I dug out the 3 ft remains of a Singapore cane that I had broken months ago and whacked him with it about 10 times. I ended up with an instant contrite little boy--who seemed to listen more attentively when I told him the exercise is going to happen from now on.

It is going to happen from now on. And yeah, D just looked over my shoulder a minute ago to see what I am writing and winced.

TV spanking moment :-)

On the NBC Today show about 15 min ago:

Kathy Lee Gifford (in reference to Khloe Kardashian who was waiting for her interview) "I am going to spank her! I told her to dress appropriately! She is showing cleavage."

No, the spanking did not happen though Khloe immediately put her hand over her cleavage when this was said and then inquired about the spanking after the commercial break. Kathy stated she was not going to actually spank her.

I'll spank her.

Please???

LOL!

Damn (volunteerism)

A couple of very good folks who have been working as key volunteers for one of our BDSM orgs just resigned.

I have no idea what precipitated it. It is none of my business.

But this brings up some stuff that has really been bugging me for awhile.

First of all, I have a case of the guilts that I don't quite know how to resolve. A few years ago I volunteered for an org as the newsletter editor. I edited, printed, folded, stuffed, and drove across town to deliver an 8 page newsletter for 200 people by myself. After a year I was fried. I also *had* to quit too as I was purchasing a condo and quickly found out purchasing real estate is a temporary full time job in itself.

I have not volunteered in a significant, formal way since. I have put together several demos and presented them, so I am still serving the community to some extent. I suppose I underrate that effort--some of these demos require quite a bit of research. But I enjoy doing them so much...

Anyway, I digress. I keep feeling like I *should* hold one of these major positions (like the newsletter editor one). But--I can't bring myself to do it.

While I can chase off predators with no problem I have a *very* tough time drawing boundaries when assigned a volunteer task.

WRT to the newsletter-- it was amazing what people put me through. People who had, I think, graduated from H.S. swore up and down they could not write. Had I waited for someone to write something (I was supposed to be an *editor,* not a writer) I would have never filled up 8 pages. I don't know how many things I wrote for folks. I don't know how many times I had to guess at what a demo was about to do a write up because the instructor could not be reached and would not submit one. I don't know how many times I got called on the carpet for an inaccuracy after I had to beg for the information I got in the first place--and got it 2 days past my deadline. I don't know how many times I edited and put in articles less than one hour before I had to submit the newsletter to the printer to make my print delivery deadline.

The "coop de grass"--the thing that started me thinking about quitting, was when someone told me they wanted me to upgrade the newsletter and showed me glossy ones created by much larger dungeons which have an editing *team*.

So I quit (with three month's notice).

This is not peculiar to that club at all. From what I have heard this is a pretty typical volunteer experience.

The club, the people, the membership, whomever, takes advantage of the volunteers and wrings out their energy until they burn out and quit. Often when they quit they *quit*--as in drop out of the public scene for awhile. I was smart enough to toss in the towel before my resentment became entrenched.

And--the volunteers let it happen. I think it is a self selecting phenomenon. Those who tend to volunteer are those who tend to be the helping sort anyway (minus a person here and there who volunteer for the power and pass the real work onto others)--and often those are the folks who can be taken advantage of in fairly outrageous ways.

There is rarely any questioning of whether or not too much is being asked of the volunteer, whether or not they have a life, or kids, or a *gasp* job.

And the volunteer rarely mentions it.

Which sets up another dynamic--who wants to volunteer when they see the current volunteers living at the place and becoming more burned out? Not a good promotion for volunteering. I don't know about anyone else, but my job takes a lot of tiger out of me already. I don't have the energy to deal with the same crap as a volunteer.

Would it be possible to set up some sort of group ethic for this? I think the first myth that needs to go is the idea of a volunteer as a self sacrificing altruist who has no limits. The volunteer needs to let go of this as much as the organization does. It seems that it would not have been too much to ask that the person who wanted me to upgrade the newsletter would also inquire if I needed help to do that. It seemed he saw me doing a good job and wanted to see how much more he could wring out of me. And, I admit, it would not have been too much to ask that I tell this person that I would be happy to upgrade the newsletter as soon as I have a proper team to support me in creating the sort of publication the BOD wanted.

So what if the only volunteer who can be reached by phone says, "as a matter of fact I *can't* come out to unlock the dungeon right now. I am having dinner with my kids across town 40 miles away and I can't afford the gas to be doing this all the time." A class may be canceled--and a solution may be found to the ongoing access issue, finally.

Under this ethic (something that could be drafted, taught, and institutionalized by the right leaders, I am sure) nastiness and backbiting would not be an acceptable response for someone setting a reasonable limit. Telling a person that they need to host a party every month just because they pulled off one successful one would not happen. If it did the person being told to do this would feel safe to say no.

Seems we need to negotiate our volunteer relationships with the same care that we negotiate our scenes. We all have needs, limits that can be stretched, limits that are hard, and expectations. These scene negotiation skills *are* generalizable!

Self Promotion

If you were at last Saturday's party and wonder WTF I was doing--I finally posted about it on _The Islander_.

If you weren't at last Saturday's party--well this is one of those posts that made me create a second blog. Yep--you've been warned again.

Predators

Another opinionated post warning:

So at the Saturday party I heard of one incident that really disturbed me. Turns out there was at least one more.

And I guess SL is getting infected.

I deal with some *extremely* difficult people in my line of work. I've had a layperson's crash course in personality disorders, untreated mental disorders, and sociopathy--so when I run into a predator in the scene I blow them off pretty quickly and forget the incident even more quickly. If they seem to really be living in la-la land I have a bit of fun making short work of them. If the stuff I deal with at work is a 10 these folks rarely get to a 2 on my social annoyance scale.

But even if I deal with it fairly well most of the time it still disturbs me as I know it has the ability to erode perfectly good communities. The good folks are likely to take their ball and play at home, increasing the concentration of predators and problems. The cure most often proposed is teaching the predators how to be decent, socially skilled human beings.

OK--that can work sometimes--especially if the person simply lacks social skills. Many of us were outsiders up to the point we walked into a dungeon for the first time.

But then there are the others who will never turn around, save for a well-aimed lightening bolt to the forehead from God followed by a few years of intensive therapy. Seriously. These people do not live in our social world.

The mistake people make is assuming these folks can read the body language and voice tone cues that most of us read routinely and take for granted.

If the person has grown up under a rock they probably can't--not until they are more socialized. If they are suffering from some sort of personality disorder they won't--they are too busy distorting reality to actually *attend* to it. Worse, they may read your cues as a sign to do something you *don't* want them to do so they can protect their distorted version of reality.

So I think the non-predators need a lesson in direct communication. Ie: "I don't want to play, please leave me alone." "I said no and I mean no." "If you don't stop I will ask (yell) for help." "If you continue to follow me around and pressure me that will guarantee that you will *never* get to play with me." Name the offending behavior, request an alternate behavior, and name the possible consequences for failure to stop. Stand tall and look the person in the eye. Mean it. What would you do if they were after your kid?

The predator may throw a hissy fit at worst--or try to throw verbal barbs at you to induce guilt. The key is to stick to your point and to not engage in their agenda. Repeat your request over and over again if they start to argue with you or hit your triggers. They will eventually go off and find easier prey.

Sounds rude? Too direct? Remember--these folks don't inhabit the same social world the rest of us do. You might not treat your best friend this way--but it is exactly what these people need. The simply clueless will eventually learn a valuable lesson. The more disordered will move on. Think about how direct you have to be with a 2 year old. No--these folks are not 2 years old. But socially they may be--or they may be out after their own unsavory ends.

Now here comes the part where I get to throw the match on the barbie.

I think that failure to directly tell predators to move on/cut the crap not only does a disservice to oneself, but it also does a disservice to the entire community.

No I am NOT blaming the victims here! I *know* this is unfair. If someone really gets victimized it is *all* the perpetrator's fault and the victim is guilt-free.

However, at some point I think pragmatics takes over. It is not our *job* to educate/repel these folks any more than it is our job to to educate our neighbor not to blast his stereo system at all hours. And yet we find ourselves doing these sorts of things anyway. We can either fume about it or just do it and get it over with.

If 80% of us tell perpetrators and other socially rude sorts directly and simply to stop doing whatever it is that is getting into our space, they will move on. If we don't, we will see our parties, clubs, communities become degraded. The good folks will move on leaving...what?

Post Valentines Day Post Mortem ;-)

Ok this is not about what I *did*. That will definitely have to go on the other blog.

This is about how grateful I am for D--and some apparently useful quirky personal beliefs I have about love. Warning: this is an opinionated piece.

D is just into spanking (OK he tolerates a few other things, but if a spanking only club opened up in Phoenix he would be just as happy to never darken the door of a dungeon again).

My scene interests include a heavy dose of spanking, but otherwise are all over the map. So we have an open relationship. I get to go out and do what I did last night--and because I have a million dungeon contacts he gets his itch scratched for multiple top exhibitionist spanking scenes. People look at us funny sometimes. For one thing, the heavy M/s emphasis here assumes that D is *supposed* to like what I like, or at least Obey and Get Over It. It has been six years now. People have largely quit lecturing me about it (and have also quit trying to pigeon-hole our relationship). It was not without quite a bit of work on our part and a bit of fang baring.

As partners though the love is definitely there. It was not this thunderclap "love at first sight" thing. But then again, I don't think I am the type to do that. I had some previous very bad experiences with very good looking people (think about what H.S. was really like for the lowest social caste). The experiences were bad enough that now (perhaps a bit unfairly) such people have to prove that they are decent, humble human beings before I will really trust them. OK--I have an odd bit of discrimination there I need to tend to very soon. Sorry to any drop dead gorgeous types I have offended recently (and if I am your friend *don't* assume you are ugly!!!!)

However, when that happened it caused me to question just about every "conventional" idea of love from a very early age--and I have found much of it to be unrealistic, rather sick catch-22 claptrap. D searched for years to find his match--and in the process his idealized notions of the perfect spanking relationship got stripped down to bare essentials. My already unconventional nature allowed me to blow off ill-fitting M/s notions regarding what we* should* do sooner rather than later. That probably saved our relationship.

D and I are compatible (or at least flexible) on issues of money and sex. Regarding issues of money we are both penny-pinching misers (a fact that has seriously saved our bacon this last half year). Regarding sex--well see above. We also clash like heck on other major traits....

....And we work around them. Sometimes he turns down the political talk show jibber-jabber, and other times I get the shooter's muffs out and read a book. I've perfected my meat and potatoes recipes for him and freeze them en masse--then cook my own stuff and freeze it en masse. Some habits of mine he's adopted--and vice versa.

Somehow it works out not because we are a perfect match but because we respect each other as very different human beings and try to tend to the core of what we think love is. Listening (we are better some days than others), respect for our own inner worlds, lots of compliments and emphasizing the good things, lots of human contact, lots of real world problem solving when the real world does what it likes to do, and lots of freedom for each other with the assurance that we each have a home and a warm embrace to return to.

While there has to be some common ground in any relationship, IMHO the real lesson of love is spiritual. It is not whether you can find a hottie that everyone will be envious of, who shares all of your interests, and who puts the toilet paper on the roll exactly like you do. Rather, it is whether you can connect with the core of another human being and fulfill each other's desire for love and closeness. There is no formula for that, and in my personal experience most social codes for love and relationships do more to hinder than help the process. I am lucky I found someone who believes the same thing and is willing to go on this adventure with me.

Some Random stuff from last night.

I think I find cathartic scenes even more fulfilling than punishment ones (and I *really* like punishment ones). So when it happens in the same scene I am one happy camper.

That said, until last night I never really clued into the fact that a cathartic scene really takes the tiger out of me from the top side. I know what they are like for me from the bottom--if I am planning one I try to make sure I don't have to work the next day and that my immediate next activity involves chilling and food. But it was just last night that I realized I need lots of immediate chilling and food from the top side too.

I had promised to play with D after the first scene--so after about an hour of chilling I was sorta ready. I thought it was going to be a short scene--but it turns out using a singletail for me is like playing some sort of video game after a long day. Not completely mindless--rather something that takes up the whole concentration of a small percentage of my mind while allowing the rest of my brain to take a siesta.

Rad has been saying something for awhile that has finally caught up with me as well. I get just a tad *nervous* before a punishment scene. I rely heavily on scolding and on my instinct for saying the right words to trip a switch in someone so they start to actually feel remorse. I also have been developing a skill for playing with real SAMs, so there is always that niggling worry that I might not be able to subdue them. I have to work on getting myself in a "dark" mode beforehand--so by the end of the scene I have burned off all of this built up energy quickly and I feel like an empty vessel. The challenge though, and the nerves, and that slight concern about failure just add to the appeal. I had a skydiving and rock climbing friend once who told me the exact same thing.

Now, note to self. Pack a clean pair of earplugs and the shooter's earmuffs for my next dungeon punishment or cathartic scene. Due to an ongoing comedy of errors we have the weirdest stuff in our dungeon CD player (which holds about 50 of the damned things). People burn CDs, stuff them in there unmarked, and never retrieve them. If I ever get my mitts on whomever put the "William Tell Overture" in there a few months ago.... The wrong music seriously messes with bottom space. Yeah, inteferes with scolding, though there is some appeal in lifting off one half of a muff and yelling at someone.

Play Party

The scene worked well. I won't post much about it for the sake of confidentiality, but it was a punishment scene that morphed into a cathartic scene (I worked in tandem with this person's Dominant/Master and used scolding over real issues to help trigger a catharsis that the person needed). I sometimes end up in the role of "henchman" or "beta Top" for a dominant who is not a strong sadist which is more or less what happened in this case. Given that I am not strongly into D/s or M/s I rather like the role. Someone else can deal with the rules and the service, I can deal out the discipline, and life is good for everyone.

I had another singletail scene with D. I've been practicing my "butterfly kisses" (just getting the string "brush" at the end of the knot to brush the person) and I am getting better at it. Enough repetition apparently gives a person the ability to see things they could not see before--in this case the depth of a stroke on skin in a dark dungeon. On of my mentors suggests putting out a candle in the dark with a singletail for practice--I might try that one of these days.

The begging and pleading of bottoms

So I have a scene planned tomorrow that may turn out to be a combination of punishment and catharsis.

At issue is to warm up or not to warm up. Kinda wondering if said bottom has been snooping out my blog.

My stance is that this person will get what is needed, and if warm up figures in somehow than that will happen. I have my ways of describing general patterns I see, but I also like scenes to *work* especially if the bottom really needs something in particular from it or if a combination of actions produced the desired result in the past.

But still...

What is this business of this person telling me their behind was never that tough. Or that what they can take may turn out to be pathetic?

My, my, my.

Somebody is feeling a bit...nervous?

I love scenes that start a day before I pick up an implement ;-)

Wow.

Once in a great while someone writes something so gorgeous that it makes me want to eat my keyboard.

Go read the latest post on "My Dirty Little Secret" (Jenni Mack on my blog list).

Just...wow.

Please Help

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No Warmup?

Something Radagast (Radspace) posted a few days ago got me thinking:

The assumption with most scenes is that the Top will do some sort of warm-up to ease the bottom into things and get the endorphins flowing gradually.

IME--This is an example of one of those things that should be taken as a useful guideline, not a hard and fast rule. In other words, if you see a no warmup scene in the dungeon don't freak out and start thinking the Top is a lousy player. In my travels I've actually collected a surprisingly large number of instances in which a warmup would actually work *against* the scene.

1. Punishment (discipline). Rad described this one well. Whether you are getting punished for something real or doing punishment for a role play punishment should--well--hurt. Folks I know who have punishment as a kink have it precisely because they get something out of the fear, shock, and the fact that their endorphins are never allowed to overshadow the pain. If one wants punishment simply for behavior modification then it needs to be adversive. Scenes with warmups are not adversive. So for punishment (real or Memorex) I start out hard and work up to harder. For the initial swats I want shock and awe, but I don't want the person to kick me in the nose, suddenly develop the strength to move cars, or fly through a wall (with or without me in tow). So I don't pick up the 3/4 inch thick cocobolo 16 hole BottomBlaster 2000 at this point. I pick up a wooden hairbrush made of a softer (but still hard) wood.

The BottomBlaster comes out later as the endorphins kick in and I still want to continue getting the same reaction (if the punishment *needs* to last that long). In my experience it is the disappointment of the Top that punishes at least as much as the swats in a punishment scene that is intended to help alter real behavior. In more of a role play situation, it is the fear of the relentlessness of the top and the loss of control that does the emotional work to compliment the physical swats.

2. Cathartic scenes: Pretty much the same thing--except the intent is different. In the punishment scene I present a stern, impersonal, no-nonsense face. After the scene I may reassure the person that I still love *them* (but not the behavior). But there is no long aftercare.

In a cathartic scene I first want a general idea of why the person needs it. Do they need to grieve something? Has life gotten so stressful that they have gone emotionally numb? Are they blocked either creatively or in their ability to solve a problem? I figure that out (vague is OK) and ask them to start to sit with those feelings and hold them nonjudgmentally the best they can. That starts to prime the pump. Then I spend time looking them in the eye and I ask them if they trust me to give them what they need. When I feel the bond I can begin. The object here is to shock the mind out of its defensiveness and out of its distractions. It is rather hard to keep something suppressed or keep rationalizing something away if one's mind keeps getting yanked back to *swat* NOW *swat* NOW *swat* NOW, etc.

Verbal comments may break the dam if one has enough information to provide effective ones. Of course the catharsis can come in the form of laughing, crying, having a temper tantrum, etc. I end up spanking (or flogging) well into the initial show of emotions. There is this bone in most people's heads that goes into shame mode when emotions start to flow strongly. Continuing the spanking quiets that down just as it quiets down any other monkey mind antics the brain pulls. I've had people go through waves of all sorts of different emotions at the business end of a flogger or cane. The top, IMO, is definitely in service mode for this. One cannot stop until it is "done" regardless of achy shoulders or sweaty toy handles.

Aftercare is the polar opposite of the punishment scene. You have now become a minister of sorts and after the scene is over your job is to stay with that person, transmitting love without judgment and without "trying to soothe the pain away" until that person is done with whatever they need to process. Check-ins the next day are critical. I've heard of scenes going so deep that the Top does not leave the bottom that night, especially if the bottom does not have another supporter to go to.

Now punishment scenes can go cathartic. If I have a bottom I have punished for failing to keep track on his diet and suddenly he starts sobbing and raging about how his mother pulled "Mommy Dearest" tricks with his food when he was a child, obviously I am going to scrap the punishment aftercare subroutine and go with the same aftercare I would use for a catharsis. It is not a reward at this point--the person has obviously come to the core of some of *why* he has misbehaved and sticking around can help him heal it.

3. Rite of Passage. I've been through this twice, though not with spanking. There is really no warmup for an 8 gauge hook. Piercing or tatooing often get used as a rite of passage in our (mainstream) culture. "Hey I got divorced and then got this cool tatoo of a butterfly on my back! This is symbolic of my metamorphosis and new freedom." Rite of passage can be used as a bookmark, as a symbol that something has changed, or as a way to discover new strengths. A slave who takes a nose piercing (painful) and then puts in a large piece of jewelry at the behest of her owner and goes about her business for a week (embarrassing) has simultaneously marked her passage into being this master's property, has acknowledged the change, and has discovered that she can cope with physical pain, emotional fear, and social embarrassment (making her a stronger person)

4. Going for a spiritual experience. Fast for 2 days, then hang off the ground by two hooks in your chest. You might just see the light. On a more subtle note, flooding your body with shock and endorphins might thin the veil between you and whatever your belief system is. You might hear from God, or the gods, or the Universe, or what have you. You might get "hits" regarding what you need to do next to fulfill your life mission.

5. Ordeal #1: How much can I take? How far can I go? Can I really do *that*? Interrogation scenes fall into this category. No warmup there. I once saw an interrogation scene which resulted in one of the bottoms being reassured of the depth of his love for his fiance. Beautiful stuff. Sometimes though you just want to know if you can take 9 judicial style cane strokes. Or whatever. Some people are thrill seekers and limit pushers: "Can I sack that peak? Can I run 50 miles through Death Valley in midsummer? Can I play with that singletail top going full tilt?

This one can go really stupid though. If extremely masochistic bottom A challenges Insecure Ego Top B that the Top will tire before the bottom does, you have a recipe for trouble. I won't play this way, but if someone took away my conscience I could really do some damage with 1,000 cuts of a singletail before I would tire out. Not smart. Especially if you have a poor sense of when you physically have had enough--and when you are nearly delirious with pain that sense will be poor. Extreme pain *confuses* the brain.

6. Ordeal #2: Obedience. How much can I take for my Master? Does my capability to obey have a limit? Can go stupid--but also can be used to bond slave and Master if used well. It can also be used to push on phobias and fear areas and thus aid growth--if used very carefully. Warmup? Not likely.

And no--these are not nice neat categories in real life. There is plenty of room for overlap. However, they come in handy when I am negotiating. If I am lucky the prospective bottom tells me "That is what I want! I did not have the words for it though and nobody else ever talks about that particular thing!"

The Details

*Le Sigh*

Somebody wants details about what is going to happen to Wednesday as a result of that lost bet.

OK, OK, it is only fair. I can't scintillate and then leave folks hanging.

A little background here. The Victorians were a bunch of closeted sick kinksters masquerading as ultra chaste moralists. The kink and all of that repressed sexuality came out in the way they chose to punish folks. I have a whole essay of punishments in one of my computer folders (some would be too risky to go live with). However, one old classic that has made it around the scene is something my friends have dubbed "The Victorian Punishment Triumvirate."

You give your victim an enema (can be a punishment one depending on water temp and what you add to it, as well as volume). Once that is expelled you cut a piece of gingerroot into a butt plug, plug it in, and cane the poor soul.

Safe but rather nasty. First off the enema washes away anything that would have blunted the sting of the ginger (ginger sting is nullified by lube and/or lube-like body substances). Now the instinct is to clench when you get caned. Clench around the ginger though and you get another burn, leading to a nice Hobson's choice.

I've been dying to try this on someone for ages now. So I made the harebrained bet in hopes of getting lucky.

I lost by a &#%@ toe.

I'm Toast

Oddly enough, I really feel *sad* that the Cards lost.

Is this what it is like to be a football fan?

Damn

Goddamn

Cards...

Don't. Go. To. Overtime.

Okay?

One minute left.

The Cards are Ahead!!!

Now take the shoes off and start spanking!!!

So D opened the window

and is bellowing loud enough for our neighbor to hear.

Dear Fellow Superbowl Betting partner....

They scored a touchdown, see?

I refuse to pucker.

I refuse to Say Die.

Touchdown...

OK Cards--keep pulling it out of your shoes...

Play Party Yesterday

D is bellowing at the TV. I am trying to distract myself. Cross posted from my other blog...

Yes, I am a happy camper today. I went to a play party yesterday that turned out very nicely.

I had arranged for one person to play with me who did not know that I play with singletails. He is turning into a dedicated spanking enthusiast (among other things) and has a nice masochistic streak. He told the resident TNG singletail expert of his desire to experience a singletail scene. Said expert was busy and referred him back to me. I had not planned to use any specific implement on his behind so we decided make it a singletail scene.

So I got to pop his cherry. I am developing a love affair with singletails. Any implement that can be as subtle or as fierce as you wish gets high marks from me. That and I have reached the "effortless effort" point with regards to my ability to wield it. I am not sure that the bottom realized such a thing as "light singletail strokes" exist (that other singletail top and I tend to play on the heavy side), but I was able to get him into a sweet la-la land. I stopped short of "enough." There is an "enough" point during a scene that does not necessarily correlate with the "enough" point when one has to sit on it all week sans the assistance of endorphins. Evidently though he was happy with the artwork I left behind and wants to play harder the next time.

Non-spanking half posted in The Islander

Cards...

Ok--start pulling it out of your shoes.

Any time now.

Now?
Now?
Now?
Now?

A Deal for The Steelers

You keep your historic play.

We win.

Fair? Yes??

Dear Fellow Superbowl Betting partner....

The game ends after 4 quarters. *FOUR QUARTERS*

The Cards are going to pull it up from their shoes, now that even Springsteen is against them, and they are going to spank the Steelers.

That is what the Cards do. They win when everyone tells them they are going to lose.

So keep the clamp on that nozzle, willya???

;-)

Jennifer Brooks is Retiring

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A cathartic CP session

I had my first cathartic CP session with D this weekend at the conference.

It started off a bit strange. The conference is held at a large hotel. Attendance has grown so much that we have managed to take over most of the rooms. The conference parties used to be held at APEX, but last year they started to hold them in a ball room due to serious lack of space (I used to pack a set of chopsticks and not much else to play at a SWLC party).

Now, I wanted to cane D. I was all dressed up to cane D with my long black skirt and my blouse with the buttons in the back and the lace panel in the front. We were towards the head of the line waiting for the room to open so we could get a space. As it was we barely snagged the last St. Andrew's cross. As we were setting up we were informed that we were at a singletail only station.

So it was singletails or wait until 1 AM for the crowd to clear up. I had thrown my whip in my bag on a whim, so I decided it was going to be a singletail scene, costuming and prior verbal threats notwithstanding.

Now D has a love/hate relationship with singletails. Basically it is the only toy I own that completely bypasses his leather behind. Using one on him is rather like spanking a virgin derriere with a hairbrush.

So I warmed him up, then started with lighter singletail strokes and worked up to moderate ones, then checked on him. To my surprise the man was sobbing. I asked him how he was doing and he smiled through his tears, managed to look fullfilled and sore at the same time, and stated he was in a very good place.

He has been wanting this a long, long time. Now perhaps he would have chosen a more domestic implement than a singletail had this played out according to fantasy. But no matter. It was clear he wanted to cry and be in that space, so I kept at it for quite a while. Then I gave him a long, long hug as he melted into me like a little kitten. We hugged and touched all the way home and I rocked him to sleep. D has a little boy persona that comes out in a very subtle way. No coloring books or toys strewn about--just a vulnerable sweetness that makes me want to cradle him.

I am not sure I would have chosen several months of unemployment, money issues, and an overcrowded BDSM party as a means to get him to this point. But, however it happened, it was good to finally get him to a place he and I really needed to go.

Southwest Leather Conference

To those who are interested/attended the conference with me--I posted again today about it on my other blog.

The harebrained Superbowl bet

I am a long suffering Arizona Cardinals....well fan does not quite describe it. OK, just an Arizonan long suffering through the Cardinals. They arrived when I was 14 along with some obnoxious neighbors who worked with them. The team and I did not get off on the right foot. The fact that they could not win anything did not help their case. The fact that the neighbors acted like they were better than the Arizonans they came to bless with their team just rubbed salt in the wound.

So I disregarded them for 21 years.

And they haul off and win the NFC championship.

Yeah, I got a little excited. I drove down the street near the stadium where the game was played honking my horn.

The same day the Baltimore Ravens were going after the AFC championship so I made a bet with a friend from Baltimore regarding who would win the Superbowl. The Ravens lost their game, but this fellow was undaunted.

So now my behind is on the line, dear readers. As is his. Heck, I don't have enough money to bet on a darned game so I had to resort to hide. Caning, figging--and I won't mention the third thing.

My neighbor had the temerity to wear his Philly Steelers Superbowl XXX shirt and flaunt it in front of us this last weekend.

As I recall they *lost*. Here. In AZ.

Go Cards.

I am going to bury that darned shirt in the yard Feb. 2

EDIT: The *Pittsburgh* Steelers. Dammit.

Still burying that shirt in the yard.

Wednesday, are you nuts??

Yeah, I created another blog. After not posting on this one for 3 months. After getting kicked off of at least one blog list for not posting for 3 months.

Yes, spanking is my first love. If I stay out of the blue funk that nailed me in October I will post about spanking a bit more often than once every three months.

But there is the other stuff. Yeah, that stuff.

Stuff like what I posted a few days ago when I came back online after three months. The spanking community and the BDSM community intersect--sorta. Since I have one foot in each I understand the sorta quite well. Spanking enthusiasts have a passionate culture of their own that I fit into very well--until my latent ADHD takes over and I see a nice shiny hook. Or a staple gun. Or whatever.

D, my long suffering and devoted partner, is a hard core, dyed in the wool spanking enthusiast. I ain't going anywhere. I am chewing at the bit to get to my next Shadowlane party.

So if I go off the deep end and go to body piercer school (I might), or discover new uses for a power stapler, well, I won't post it here.

If you wanna see that stuff, go to "The Islander." And if you like it, introduce yourself there too, please.

So, now back to spanking content--like, say, that harebrained Superbowl bet I made. Yikes!

I just don't want to squick any of my new friends out.

I moderated those comments that you all made months ago

Sorry folks!!

A technical glitch

I am no longer on the SL board. Nope--has nothing to do with SL. Has everything to do with money.

Still trying to find D a job.

I will get back on the board as soon as feasible. No March party for me either. Hopefully we do make it to Labor Day. Dunno with the way the economy is going though....

Thank you to everyone who has e-mailed me over the last few months.

Figging and Caning

This post is a bit late but since Jenni Mack advertised this on her blog the least I could do would be to post how it turned out.

The local "Next Generation" BDSM group (for younger folks) asked me to do a demo at APEX. We have an arrangement with APEX whereby we will do a couple of events for them per quarter. It definitely helps the poor programming committee.

They asked me to do figging. I was rather reluctant. Although my private play and party figging sessions are generally a big hit, I have had some bad karma when it comes to trying to do this at a demo. Gingerroot will go projectile, or fail to burn, or whatnot. This time I insisted on finding and testing a bottom first. It worked well and I booked the demo.

And she got ill the day before the demo. Fortunately she did make it with the help of narcotic cough syrup, but this precipated a frantic search for a backup. I found a backup who would do it under the condition of being tied up. I am a mediocre bondage artist at best, so D became my crash test dummy 3 hours before the demo (at which point I discovered the man likes bondage. I think I am not going to stay mediocre for long).

The demo was fantastic. January is the season for gingerrroot somewhere on the planet and my local oriental market found this place, evidently. They had beautiful hands there with fingers nearly as thick as my wrist. I had to carve off a lot of "meat" to create a functional plug. Turns out they were *strong* too. The anal plug I made nearly tapped out my bottom.

I discovered anal plugs burn more intensely than vaginal ones. Makes sense. Any lube kills the burn and one orifice produces it's own. I combined caning with the figging (as figging alone was not enough time to fill 2 hours) and had the good fortune of decorating two behinds with the cane.

Lots of yumminess. D started acting up and another audience member who has a fondness for helping D get what he needs managed to get him to stand in the corner in front of the audience. At this point a friend of mine gave him quite a spanking on stage. I love audience participation.

Teaching S/M skills makes me hot and seems to be becoming a part of my scene identity. Not sure what it is about it. I get the audience going with my warped sense of humor, but I also love doing research and presenting my findings as well. People always tell me that they learned something they did not know. I always learn something in the process of preparing for a demo. Often I learn stuff during the demo as someone will ask me a question and I will use the demo bottom to come up with the answer (ie: which burns more--an anal or vaginal plug? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop?)

That and using a skill that was the result of overcoming a major phobia (public speaking, needles) seems to add to the charge of the situation.

A non-spanking post

Jenni Mack got after me this weekend for not posting. Yeah, she's right. My energy has been drained over the past few months by a number of things, economic garbage chief on the list. This weekend though I was reminded that I need to stay in contact with what gives me energy and power.

So this weekend I went to our local Southwest Leather Conference with D, a couple of friends from SL, and about 50 friends from the local and national BDSM community.

I will post more details later, but now I will make a cross post from another primarily BDSM themed blog. Warning all--what follows is about piercing, not spanking. We ain't in Kansas right now. ;-)

To provide a bit of background, SWLC hosts something called "the dance of souls." It is a cathartic, ecstatic dance ritual loosely based on some ancient body ritual practices. One aspect of the ritual is something called a "hook pull." A pair of sterile stainless steel twelve gauge hooks are placed under the skin (chest or back) and then are attached to ropes. The participant can then attach the rope to an eyebolt or give it to another person and then tug. This stresses the body (much like a cathartic spanking might) and allows the person to give up "monkey mind" for a time and come to know what they've been hiding, stuffing, avoiding, etc. Anything from emotional pain to emotional joy can come out. Some use this as a rite of passage as well (that has been my tendency). This particular dance definitely had that quality for me. Here goes with the post...

Dance of Souls V:

Yep--my fifth.

I placed my first 12 GA flesh hook today (and the same 11 or 12 GA? needle twice). The fact that my crash test dummy was myself made the experience all the more interesting.

From what I understand, piercing oneself with--whatever--has an honored place in body rituals. The fifth play piercing needle I took was from my own hand and for some reason I find that placing at least one needle in myself during ritual anchors me to the experience. I "own" it then in a very visceral way.

That said, piercing myself with something that large (twice) and placing a hook in myself was several steps beyond mind blowing.

I got the "hit" that I was to do this halfway through the introductory lecture to the dance of souls. I was worried that the piercers may not allow it, so I deliberately sought out the most twisted edge player of the bunch. STF was actually my first choice but I saw he was only doing needles (they formed two teams this year for the sake of efficiency), so I picked Master Z of Texas. He had me convinced of his delightful sick twistedness after I saw what he could do with duct tape and an power stapler at an earlier demo. I figured if I fucked it up he would mop up the blood, grin, and take over. I also had an inkling he might like the show (he did). I asked a couple of SL friends to witness. Despite the fact this was their first dance they did with much love and without so much as a flinch.

I told Master Z where my knowledge of how to do this ended, so he helped me figure out depth and placement on my chest. I actually found that doing it myself made it less painful, even though I probably was twice as slow getting the needle through as he would have been (I wanted to get it to the right depth and I was not worried about whining from my "bottom"). He put in the first hook as I watched.* I asked to put in the second hook after I placed the piercing needle on the other side and to my surprise found doing that part took at least as much strength and a bit more aggression than did shoving the needle through. I was also drunk as a skunk on my own endorphins by this point and the concept of push and pull was not completely registering. Despite this I managed to get the hook 95% through before asking Master Z for help. He gave it a tiny shove and had the grace to tell me that basically I had done the job myself.

Of course I can't adequately describe how doing that made me feel. The word "empowered" comes to mind. Never had I felt so much ownership of anything. This ritual had become, viscerally, mine. I needed that very much. I was also immensely satisfied.

To my surprise and pleasure the subsequent pull was very comforting. My instinct had guided me the correct spots to pierce. The sensation felt maternal and safe and protected, much like I would imagine a kitten might feel when carried around by the scruff by mother. Even when I went into semi-suspension and the pain kicked up that underlying solidity was there. I had, literally, built my own wings and found them more than worthy for flight. I called myself beautiful at the prompting of a witness. I licked my ropes, licked Master D's hand, licked the wood frame, and kissed a female witness twice on the lips. I blissed out and let the whirl of sound go through me...

The first pull was about courage. The second...about building wings perhaps. For what, who knows. Of course more will come to me, verbally and non-verbally, as time goes on. I know though that this was transformative. I feel it.

* Hook piercing is done like any other piercing. The first thing to go in the body is a straight hollow piercing needle. Once the point of the needle penetrates through the skin the point of the hook is placed in the "bevel" (hollow point) of the needle. The needle acts like a sheath guide for the hook as it travels under the skin and the needle is ultimately shoved out of the skin in the opposite direction it went in. It is the curve of the hook, I think, that demands a decent push at this stage. An 11 or 12 GA needle, evidently, stays sharp enough to be reused for the rest of that same person's piercings.