"I have some wine at my place...do you both wanna come over for a bit? I live just a couple of blocks from here."
They looked at one another, as if weighing my offer.
"I really should get home," Lisa said. "I've got to work early. But you should go, Kirsten."
Yes, I thought, yes, Kirsten, you really should.
"Let me call Joe and see if he can pick me up on his way home." She stepped away from us to make the call. Come on, Joe, I thought, be a pal and help a girl out.
"He said that's fine. I'm going to text the address to him. He's going to come get me in about an hour and a half. Is that okay?"
And with that, my Dear Readers, my little adventure began.
After the obligatory tour (hardly a tour...I have two rooms!), I took the champagne from the fridge and took it and two glasses to the living room where Kirsten was sitting on my couch.
Let me take a moment to set the scene, Dear Reader. Portishead is playing on the hi-fi (read computer), and the bubbly has been poured. My living room is lit by lamps, because I'm a girl who doesn't like overhead lighting...I like atmosphere. Kirsten is sitting on my purple velvet couch, leaning over the arm, reading the titles of the books on my shelves. She is a bit taller than me, 5'5'' or so, and has longish red hair and freckles. She's wearing a black leotard, jeans, and Ugg boots. Very cute, granola girl next door.
"You really rocked that trivia, Libby," she says.
"You're weren't too bad yourself, Doll," I purr back.
"I hated those guys! They were so obviously cheating!"
I assume a stern look.
"Well, Missy, you're not one to talk about cheating now, are you?"
I swear to you, Dear Reader, she blushed.
"I really shouldn't have done that, I know. It's not like me. I just couldn't stand the thought of them winning."
"Well, you know what I say about that, Kirsten."
Again with the blushing!
"You said you were going to spank me!" she giggled, and sipped her champagne.
"I did not!" now I giggled. "I said SOMEBODY needs to spank you."
Before the words were out of my mouth, she was up on her knees, with her back to me and her bottom thrust out. "Go ahead, Libby," she said, laughing as if it were all a big goof, "I deserve it!"
Now, Reader, I'm very subby. I don't consider myself a switch. But something "switched" on in me at that moment, and I NEEDED to smack Kirsten's bottom. The problem was that I literally didn't know how. I'm very uncoordinated, and I was a little worried that I might miss altogether. But I'm not one to miss an opportunity, and, like I said, I was feeling a primal urge to smack her bottom.
It started off innocently enough (doesn't it always?).
You see, Dear Readers, in my vanilla life, I'm a bit of a trivia fiend. I regularly participate in trivia night at my local pub, and I'm damn good at it, if I do say so myself.
I have a couple of friends with whom I'm normally on a team, but this week they were busy, so I decided to go alone and hope to find a team to join there.
Dear Reader, to think, I ALMOST stayed home!
Heavens, how sad that would have been.
Once at the pub, the bartender pointed me to a couple of girls who were looking for a teammate. My reputation, it seems, had preceded me (as a trivia queen, Silly Reader!), and they were thrilled to have me on their team.
As the evening progressed and the wine flowed, I discovered that Lisa and Kirsten had met in college and been good friends since. I was pleased to find that they were both very funny and charming, and very smart. We were kicking trivia tush.
Our biggest competition was coming from a table of college boys. They were annoying as hell, and it was fairly apparent that they were cheating - using their phones to look up answers, and not even really trying to hide it.
We were loathe to lose to them, Dear Reader. But it looked like it might happen when we were absolutely stumped by a sports question. I mean, not a clue. Lisa and I brainstormed, and I didn't notice Kirsten, silently tapping into her phone.
"Larry Bird" she said, suddenly, and without a trace of doubt in her voice.
"Are you sure?"
"Joe?" Lisa asked, and Kirsten nodded.
"Kirsten! Did you cheat?"
"No! Well not like the frat boys are cheating. I texted my boyfriend. He's a sports guy."
"You're so bad!" And, Dear Reader, because you're a spanko, you know the next words that popped out of my tipsy mouth. "Somebody needs to spank you!"
I panicked as soon as the words were out, but Lisa hardly seemed to notice, so excited was she that while we might not beat the frat boys, at least we'd tie.
Kirsten, on the other hand, noticed.
Her eyes flashed to mine and for just a second there was that "you're one too!" look and then we both blushed and joined Lisa in gloating over our tie.
When the game was over and it was time to go, my brain was spinning, and not even so much from the wine. Was I wrong? Had we really had a spanko moment there, or not? And how would I ever find out?
My Sir has an affinity for wooden hairbrushes. Using them on my bottom, that is.
While I do rather like the crop, I don't think I have a favorite implement, per se. Because I'm curious if other people do, I'm going to post a poll on the subject. Please feel free to comment here, as well.
Today's Spanking City of the Day is Bath, Pennsylvania. When I did a Google search for images associated with that city, the third one was a lovely naked girl on a boat holding two lobsters. I don't think it had anything to do with Bath, actually, but I liked it, so I tried to post it, but for some reason, I wasn't able to. So, instead, here's the first image that came up, a map of the area.
I'm something of a late bloomer, I've come to understand. As an artist and an academic, I've studied lots of different things, worked in diverse fields, moved around a lot, and sort of floated.
Self-discipline has always seemed like something of an elusive goal...I have two masters degrees, so obviously I have some self-discipline. But that was externally directed self-discipline. Professors and universities set dates and goals and schedules and standards for me, and I submitted myself to them. I knew it was for my own good. I operate very well under that model.
I'm coming to see that underlying my (dis) ability to discipline myself is a sort of domestic morass (no pun intended. ok, a little intended.). Stacks of laundry so large I couldn't even bring myself to deal with with them. A sink full of dirty dishes was a constant.
And the thing was, I felt bad about it all the time. For years, "have more self-discipline" was my top New Year's Resolutions. But how could I get the discipline to learn to impose self-discipline?
It was a conundrum.
I felt as if, in trying to launch my career as a writer, I was trying to build a strong house on a foundation that was very shaky, at best, and quicksand, at worse.
Working with Sir is helping me to shore up that foundation. As I've mentioned before, he does not micromanage me. However there are certain tasks that I've committed to doing, and he makes sure I do them. There's no more, "well, I really should do yoga, but I'm enjoying playing solitaire/reading spanking blogs/ chattering with friends/being lazy so much that I guess I won't do it, but instead I'll spend hours feeling guilty about it."
Now, I know I'm to have done yoga by 5 everyday, and preferably in the morning. So I do it. I'm to have the dishes washed and put away, and so I do that, too.
And I'm so much happier. And my career is already benefiting from Sir's discipline. Interestingly, though we discuss my career, that's not the area of my life in which he is training me. Our work is about strengthening my foundation, so to speak. He's giving me the tools and the training. And I'm ready for the construction.
As some of you may know, I've not been working with Sir for long. We only just met at the end of November. But things have been going very well.
And by that, specifically, I mean that I've been accomplishing all my goals, almost 100% of the time since he's been disciplining me. The results have been tremendously satisfying, to say the least.
Now, Sir doesn't micromanage me, but he keeps me on task. I check in with him often and he advises me on things throughout the day, encourages me and praises me; he also spanks me and gives me cornertime when necessary, or just for maintenance, whichever is warranted at the moment.
I've come to really rely on his discipline.
So when he's too busy to spend a lot of time helping me during the day, I'm learning to ask myself
"WWSHMD?" ("What would Sir have me do?")
That question served me well today.
To cut a long story (just ask Sir) short, suffice it to say that one of my problems is losing things. It's something I've struggled with all my life. It's something I'm working on. This morning, I thought that I'd lost a pair of earrings that my mother bought me for my birthday last week. I was extremely frustrated myself, and was spiraling into panic mode.
I knew Sir was unavailable for consultation.
So I asked myself"WWSHMD?"
"Breathe, Pet." That's the first thing he'd say.
Once I did that, I realized that my frenzy wasn't helping. I knew he'd be available later. Should I spend hours freaking out and crying, or just get on with my day and talk with him about it later?
Well, that seemed an easy question to answer.
So I did laundry, did yoga, took care of the dog and cat. I was feeling pretty good about my choice.
And then, lo and behold, when putting away my undies, what do I discover but said earrings! In my panty drawer! It had been open a centimeter or so last night, and my naughty little cat had knocked them into the drawer.
There's been a lot of talk in Spanko-blog Land lately about consent. How much do we, as spankees, give? There've been excellent discussions elsewhere on this (especially at My Bottom Smarts) .
All of this talk of consent happened to coincide with something that happened between Sir and me.
In a nutshell, I lost my bank card.
Just one of those irritating things that happen that take half a day to get cleared up.
But the bottom line is, I lost it. It didn't get stolen, the dog didn't eat it, I just lost it.
I mentioned it to Sir, in an offhanded way while we were discussing my plans for the day. It didn't occur to me that I'd be punished for it. I'm an autonomous person. Though Sir keeps me on a short leash (not literally. At least not yet.) regarding things we've negotiated (mostly domestic things), my money and banking habits is not something we've discussed.
Sir was very kind and concerned about me fixing the problem, but informed me that I would be punished once it was straightened out.
Now, fellow imps, I know you'll understand when I admit that the first thing that went through my head was "the hell I will." OF COURSE I didn't say that, but it is the first thing I thought. So what DID I say? I said, "Yes, Sir." He's the only person in the world to whom I would have said that.
Later, in the course of conversation, I mentioned, very politely, that I didn't think I should be punished for what happened, but that I knew it didn't matter because his word goes. He very graciously asked me to explain my thoughts. I did. He thanked me for telling him and told me to be prepared for punishment later this week.