Sandy is "punished"

What I probably should have gotten was a long, hard, over-the-knee spanking, but we always have to worry about our annoying downstairs neighbor. Instead, after I got home last night, a little before bedtime, Rad ordered me into the bedroom. (Do you think his punishing me had anything to do with me walking into the kitchen earlier in just matching pink panties and bra, putting my arms around him and saying, "Daddy? I was a bad girl..."??)

It was to be the cane, with a flogging to follow. I was parading around in just the pink panties and a tight, too-small t-shirt that has a cartoon of a cat and the words, "I ♥ My Pussy." I can do white trash as well as the next girl, you know.

He made me take the panties off and lie across the bed in just the t-shirt, with my bottom raised over two pillows. He took out the thicker cane, the one that's probably about the width of my thumb or maybe middle finger. Not as stingy as the thinner ones. Not as wicked as the even-thicker "Thumper."

And then he gave me twenty-four strokes. Slowly, the way a caning's supposed to be, where you feel each one sink in and slowly subside as you anticipate the next. I like having a set number. It's easier to deal with your chastisement when you have a specific end in sight.

After the caning, I was allowed a brief pause. But then he told me to kneel up and strip. I peeled the shirt off and lay back over the pillows. He took the small, multiple-stranded flogger. This is one with hundreds of thin, rubbery strands, and it's very soft, with a normal stroke, and is pleasurable.

But when Rad really swings it, I feel like I'm being hit with something solid. It's a big thuddy impact, and I do like thuddiness, but he pushed me beyond my pleasure zone. He whipped my back with this until I was crying out and writhing. There was a short pause, then a second burst of whipping until I cried out again. He also whipped my bottom, went back and forth between my back and my butt.

It was delicious pain, just enough, just what I needed. No, it didn't REALLY feel like punishment, and it was followed by pleasure -- which I don't think I need to describe.

RIP to a comedy genius

Just heard George Carlin died last night at age 71. He's always been someone I've always admired for his wordplay, writing, and simply making you think.

A classic bit, dated or not, it's hilarious:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTyzTJTNhNk

Of thongs and belts

(dupe from MySpace)

We were going clothes shopping yesterday and I thought I might be trying on bathing suits, so I put a thong on instead of regular panties. They make you keep your underwear on when you try on bathing suits...

But you know, just because a girl puts on a THONG, there's no reason to assume that she needs or wants a spanking -- OR needs to be bent over the bed for a belting.

However, Paul seemed to think otherwise, so that was exactly what happened. Just a little belting, about ten strokes. Very stingy.

I've been busy spanking other guys all weekend, my arm is tired, and I think I need some REAL attention tonight. I already told my "daddy" that I was a bad girl and needed to be dealt with.

Will let you know what happens.

Girly stuff

So, I wanted to talk about this crazy thing called a "pedicure," which is now mandated in NYC if you are a girl and wish to wear sandals or open-toed shoes.

Now, I'm pretty new at this pedicure thing. I only got my first one two years ago. It was wonderful (Dolly in Maryland had treated me for my birthday; thanks, Dolly!) and I was sorry I hadn't done it before. On the other hand, I don't like obsessing about my toes and spending money I don't have to spend, so since that first one I've only gotten two or three more -- usually before a major party. It's a once-in-a-while treat.

But yesterday it was time to get one, since I was going to top a guy who wanted to give me a foot massage after I whipped his ass.

I found a nail place on 8th Avenue that wasn't busy. Right away, the cosmotologist is treating me special. "Would you like the deluxe pedicure with a massage?" she asks. I'm thinking, wow, I just want my toes painted... I ask the price, and it was double, so I said, "Maybe next time."

She cleans off my old polish then sticks my feet in the water, which is deliciously warm and feels great. I'm reading a book, trying to act like I do this all the time and I'm bored, but really, I'm eating it up. I don't exactly know what's going on down there. She lifts one foot out of the water, starts cleaning and trimming and pushing cuticles. Then the other foot. Then more trimming, followed by more soaking. Finally she drains the tub and starts rinsing me off. She opens a little cabinet near her and takes out a towel, which was heated. She lays that over my legs and feet, presses it in, dries me off. Holy shit, that feels good. I'm practically purring. Next she massages my feet. Then starts massaging my calves. It feels terrific, but I say, "You know I only want the REGULAR pedi, right?" She nods and keeps massaging. This is the regular pedi? This ROCKS!

Meanwhile, I'm sitting in a massage chair that's been rolling, pounding, and squeezing up and down my back and neck this whole time.

The clinician rips off a piece of plastic wrap, slaps something onto it from a tub on a counter, and wraps this around my heel. It's warm and the plastic keeps the heat in. "What's that?" I ask. "Parafin," she says. "It makes your heels soft." "Ohhhh, nice," I murmur as she does the same with the other heel.

Only after all that does she finally put the color on my toes. She does a very nice job, considering that I've kind of beaten the crap out of my nails this summer. Then off I go with the little paper slippers to the drying area. She tells me I need to sit with the fan blowing on my toes for ten minutes. Okay, I think, opening up my book again. Suddenly, she's back, comes up behind me and starts rubbing my neck and shoulders! Damn, can this get any better? She massages me for about five minutes.

What an experience. I feel like a princess! Ok, enough girly stuff for now.

Send me your blog URL

I'm adding interesting blogs to my blog roll, so if you know of any, please let me know. (this is still in progress and if I know you and you don't see yours listed here, I'm still working on it).

My husband recently started a blog called radspace (http://radspace.wordpress.com/) which has some interesting thoughts about the scene. Check it out when you get a chance.

Me, I'm thinking about what to write today and kind of in a haze. I know I need a spanking, but that's obvious -- when don't I? Maybe we can go to Paddles tomorrow and play.

Gotta get to work and will come up with a topic later. Of course, suggestions welcome.

the tower of temptation

Can someone tell me how I'm supposed to work with this monstrosity calling me from the office kitchen all day? This is ridiculous. Diet is out the window for another day.

I took a little walk at lunch, did a scene tonight (that counts as another workout), and will do my pushups before bed. But I think I should have had better will power.

Do I have something to say?

AKA, "who needs a big-ass paddling?"

The internet seems to be sucking the life out of me. I sat staring at my computer screen for the last couple hours before dinner, doing what? -- Looking at spanking web sites, reading other people's blogs, reading gossips, answering emails -- everything but writing, which is the number one thing I SHOULD be doing. Suddenly, in my mind what I have to say has become irrelevant. "No one wants to hear it. Why bother?"

This is where my head is at. I wanted to post a real Florida Moonshine party report, but I was too exhausted the first couple days back and now everyone else has reported on it ad nauseam. Whatever I contribute now will be boring. So my comments have been reduced to, "Yeah, great party!"

I turned 45 on Thursday, with little notice on FMS, Shadow Lane, or any other site I belong to. That's just as well. I really do not want to be reminded that I am now fully, solidly, and undeniably entrenched in middle age. I am not feeling sorry for myself. My life is really, really good right now. Probably better than it's ever been. And I think I look pretty darn good for 45. I just did 50 push ups in a row a little while ago (my goal is 150 for today since I skipped two days). I'm pretty active and I don't have any major health problems.

But I do have issues, and things that I would like to overcome, and I'm not getting out of my rut and overcoming them. And I wonder if I can.

My main issue is -- when am I going to get some GUTS and start doing what I feel the urge to do? When am I going to restring my guitar, pick it up, and play it in public again? When am I going to write a song again? When am I going to stop telling myself I can't write -- and just start writing? When am I going to start creating a new mosaic? When am I going to finish decorating the apartment...

And, as far as the BDSM scene goes, when am I going to stop telling myself that subs are just a dime a dozen and to a top, I am nothing but another butt? "Yes, I can take a good spanking, but so can lots of younger women with firmer asses..."

This is one reason I got into topping. I LOVE the attention. I never got much attention when I was younger, heavier, tens times shyer, and tens times more worried about what other people would think of me. Being in the scene gives me lots of attention. And I think I'm pretty good at topping, although I do have much to learn.

I feel so much competition as a sub; I feel I am vying for the tops' attention. I don't feel that as much, as a top.

Problem is, I don't REALLY get my deep needs met as a top. I really need to submit if a scene is to be a quality scene for me. Whether that's submitting to someone's control for several hours, or simply submitting to a level of pain -- that's what I crave.

Sigh. Well, at least I've gotten some words out, which I haven't done most of the week. I may revisit this later.

And I do have something to say, I think...