How's everyone's weekend?
Saturday, November 13, 2010
My Own Bad Girl Corner
Sir has chosen this area of my apartment to be my "bad girl" corner. He says it's perfect because it's really two corners in one, a little recessed pocket in which to put me.
Today he's teaching me the proper way to stand there, and the different options he may choose - for instance, feet together, arms at sides, nose to wall. There's a very precise way I'm to do it. Or he may order my feet further apart, and further from the wall, so that I must lean forward in order to keep my nose to the wall - there's a very precise way to do that, too.
So much to learn!
A Libertine's Spanking: Cornertime Instruction
A Libertine's Spanking: Cornertime Instruction: "Because Sir is fair, and because he wants me to understand what he requires, Sir has agreed to help me with cornertime. I'm fortunate in th..."
Friday, November 12, 2010
Cornertime Instruction
Because Sir is fair, and because he wants me to understand what he requires, Sir has agreed to help me with cornertime.
I'm fortunate in that there's an area of my apartment that seems to have been made for cornertime.
Sir is going to help me map out exactly where my body should be when he demands cornertime...he shall have options as to how he wants my feet and my hands...
I'm fortunate in that there's an area of my apartment that seems to have been made for cornertime.
Sir is going to help me map out exactly where my body should be when he demands cornertime...he shall have options as to how he wants my feet and my hands...
Cornertime...
There's been an ongoing debate about corner time raging, I know...
And of course, I'm always interested in such debates.
However...
I haven't a mentor at the moment.
No Sir to correct my naughty behavior.
And, to be utterly honest, I've never been placed in the corner before.
But I've several ideas about how it should be done.
And so tonight, I practiced.
I found the perfect corner in my apartment, and I practiced several different stances.
Please remind me, what's wrong with cornertime?
More Vintage Beauty
While I should have been working today (I really do need a mentor to get me in line...), I was instead wandering around in Mr. Chross's lovely spanking art gallery and came upon this - it literally made me gasp. The mirror is brilliant.
You like?
Thursday, November 11, 2010
My Second Follower!
Thank you, Bonnie, for following. It's truly an honor to have you and Pink here!
The Two Aprons
(...continued)
Once I was standing I felt awkward, and stepped to the side of the pillow where I'd been sitting. Hesitating, I bent forward, and put my hands on my knees.
"Alright, then, Love, what am I going to do, spank your head? Silly girl. Turn round. Bottom toward me, of course." I felt myself blushing from the roots of my hair to my toenails. "Did I say knees? I thought I said ankles."
As I dropped forward I became acutely aware of how exposed my bottom felt, even when covered with panties. As if reading my mind, he said, "now let's have those knickers down, Libby." I didn't move, and started to say, "but Sir..." when he interrupted, firmly.
"Libertine. There shall be no punishment today. But I need to know that you can follow directions."
It was as if his words pulled my body into action. I pulled my panties down over my hips and started to step out of them, but he stopped me. "No, leave them there." I could see him through my legs. He was regarding me carefully. Involuntarily, my back subtly arched and my bottom seemed to stretch toward him like a sunflower. He smiled.
"Good girl. Now. panties up. Go fetch my case. I have something else for you.
I did as I was told. He pulled a small pile of fabric from his case and held it out to me.
"Sit back down, Libby, and take these. Now tell me what they are."
"They're aprons, Sir."
"Yes, and are they identical?"
"No, Sir, far from it. One is..." it was dowdy, navy and canvas "...more plain than the other." The other one was lovely, looked almost couture with its bouncy skirt and crisp pink, floral printed fabric.
"Have you a preference?"
"Yes, Sir..." was this a trick? "I prefer the pink one."
"Very well. That shall be the apron you'll wear for our housekeeping inspections. You are to be wearing clean, pressed clothes, something decent, clean knickers, and your inspection apron. The other apron is to be worn while you're actually doing your chores. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Now, when you greet me, dressed as you've been told, you're to hand me a check list prepared from the items in your Notebook, along with the Notebook itself, and a pen. At that point you're to wait for instructions. Generally, like today, I'll simply instruct you to remove your pants or skirt and have a seat on the pillow, waiting. But those instructions are at my discretion. If things look especially bad at first glance, I may very well have you standing naked in the corner as you wait for me to finish inspection. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And so, if I were to come in here and find things as messy as I did today, what might happen?"
"You might have me standing naked in the corner."
"But tell me precisely, if I were to say, Libby, this is isn't good. Take off your clothes and go to the corner, what would you do?"
"I would do it, I would take of my clothes and..." he raised his eyebrows slightly, and I understood. "I would fold them neatly and put them on the coffee table. Then I would go to the corner."
"Lovely. But first you'd put your lovely apron back on, wouldn't you? Because you're always to be wearing it during housekeeping inspection. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Now, if you were to be in corner time, and I finished inspection and found, say, 32 infractions in this one room, what would happen?"
"I might get a bare bottomed spanking, while grabbing my ankles."
"Not only might you, you most certainly would. I might also point out some specific infractions that you must remedy immediately, if they're inexcusable. For instance, if I found the bookcases to be especially dusty, I might have you take care of that before I leave. How would you take care of that, Libby?"
"I would immediately get the feather duster and dust them..."
"In your pink apron?"
"No, Sir. I would change to the blue apron, because I don't want to get the pink one dirty."
"Very good, Libby! Now see, if you thought things through like this on your own, you wouldn't need me to help you with discipline, now would you?"
Oh, but I would, I thought....
Once I was standing I felt awkward, and stepped to the side of the pillow where I'd been sitting. Hesitating, I bent forward, and put my hands on my knees.
"Alright, then, Love, what am I going to do, spank your head? Silly girl. Turn round. Bottom toward me, of course." I felt myself blushing from the roots of my hair to my toenails. "Did I say knees? I thought I said ankles."
As I dropped forward I became acutely aware of how exposed my bottom felt, even when covered with panties. As if reading my mind, he said, "now let's have those knickers down, Libby." I didn't move, and started to say, "but Sir..." when he interrupted, firmly.
"Libertine. There shall be no punishment today. But I need to know that you can follow directions."
It was as if his words pulled my body into action. I pulled my panties down over my hips and started to step out of them, but he stopped me. "No, leave them there." I could see him through my legs. He was regarding me carefully. Involuntarily, my back subtly arched and my bottom seemed to stretch toward him like a sunflower. He smiled.
"Good girl. Now. panties up. Go fetch my case. I have something else for you.
I did as I was told. He pulled a small pile of fabric from his case and held it out to me.
"Sit back down, Libby, and take these. Now tell me what they are."
"They're aprons, Sir."
"Yes, and are they identical?"
"No, Sir, far from it. One is..." it was dowdy, navy and canvas "...more plain than the other." The other one was lovely, looked almost couture with its bouncy skirt and crisp pink, floral printed fabric.
"Have you a preference?"
"Yes, Sir..." was this a trick? "I prefer the pink one."
"Very well. That shall be the apron you'll wear for our housekeeping inspections. You are to be wearing clean, pressed clothes, something decent, clean knickers, and your inspection apron. The other apron is to be worn while you're actually doing your chores. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Now, when you greet me, dressed as you've been told, you're to hand me a check list prepared from the items in your Notebook, along with the Notebook itself, and a pen. At that point you're to wait for instructions. Generally, like today, I'll simply instruct you to remove your pants or skirt and have a seat on the pillow, waiting. But those instructions are at my discretion. If things look especially bad at first glance, I may very well have you standing naked in the corner as you wait for me to finish inspection. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And so, if I were to come in here and find things as messy as I did today, what might happen?"
"You might have me standing naked in the corner."
"But tell me precisely, if I were to say, Libby, this is isn't good. Take off your clothes and go to the corner, what would you do?"
"I would do it, I would take of my clothes and..." he raised his eyebrows slightly, and I understood. "I would fold them neatly and put them on the coffee table. Then I would go to the corner."
"Lovely. But first you'd put your lovely apron back on, wouldn't you? Because you're always to be wearing it during housekeeping inspection. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Now, if you were to be in corner time, and I finished inspection and found, say, 32 infractions in this one room, what would happen?"
"I might get a bare bottomed spanking, while grabbing my ankles."
"Not only might you, you most certainly would. I might also point out some specific infractions that you must remedy immediately, if they're inexcusable. For instance, if I found the bookcases to be especially dusty, I might have you take care of that before I leave. How would you take care of that, Libby?"
"I would immediately get the feather duster and dust them..."
"In your pink apron?"
"No, Sir. I would change to the blue apron, because I don't want to get the pink one dirty."
"Very good, Libby! Now see, if you thought things through like this on your own, you wouldn't need me to help you with discipline, now would you?"
Oh, but I would, I thought....
My Red Notebook Pt II
"So, Libby, what do you think I should do with you?" His eyes regarded me kindly. "Not today of course, because, remarkably," he shook his head here, "you didn't know better. But say it's the next inspection. Say you had 32 housekeeping infractions in this one room, God knows how many in the other rooms, but let's just stick with this one room. 32 infractions. What do you believe should be your punishment for that?"
I felt myself blush. "Well," my mouth suddenly dry, "I should be spanked, Sir."
"Well, you're darn right you should be spanked. But how, Girl?"
I started to shake my head, pretending not to understand what he was talking about.
Nervously, I giggled, "over your knee. In jeans." He laughed.
"Is that what you think? You think you should be wearing more clothes than you're wearing now? Does that seem right? That I'd say, Libby, you did a piss poor job of keeping the house clean. Now go put on more clothes for your spanking?"
"No, Sir." Again, with the nervous giggle. I was even trying my own patience.
"Libby. Look at me. Why am I here?"
Without a thought I answered, "Because you want to help me."
"Help you what?"
"Be a more responsible housekeeper. Keep a cleaner house."
"Yes, but why do you want that?"
I was a bit flummoxed.
"Because...it pleases you when my apartment is clean?"
"No, Lib, I don't give a damn if your apartment's clean, Girl. I wouldn't even be here unless...why AM I here, Lib?"
"Because I asked you to be here, Sir."
"Why?"
"Because I need discipline."
"Ah, yes. There you go. You do need discipline, don't you Libby?" I nodded, breathless at what he had lead me into. "And why do you need discipline?"
"Because I'll never reach my full potential without discipline."
"Very well said! That's lovely, Libby. Now that we both know why I'm really here, let's re-address punishment. For 32 infractions in one room, Libby, what might we do?"
"A spanking in panties, standing...32 handspanks."
"Not quite, but better. Here's what I propose. In this hypothetical situation, you will have certainly earned a bare bottom spanking." I nodded. "You will be standing, bending forward, with your hands clasping your ankles. Show me."
Instantly now I sprang up. He had taken away my fig leaf, my pretense of confusion. He was here because I had asked him to help me.
I felt myself blush. "Well," my mouth suddenly dry, "I should be spanked, Sir."
"Well, you're darn right you should be spanked. But how, Girl?"
I started to shake my head, pretending not to understand what he was talking about.
Nervously, I giggled, "over your knee. In jeans." He laughed.
"Is that what you think? You think you should be wearing more clothes than you're wearing now? Does that seem right? That I'd say, Libby, you did a piss poor job of keeping the house clean. Now go put on more clothes for your spanking?"
"No, Sir." Again, with the nervous giggle. I was even trying my own patience.
"Libby. Look at me. Why am I here?"
Without a thought I answered, "Because you want to help me."
"Help you what?"
"Be a more responsible housekeeper. Keep a cleaner house."
"Yes, but why do you want that?"
I was a bit flummoxed.
"Because...it pleases you when my apartment is clean?"
"No, Lib, I don't give a damn if your apartment's clean, Girl. I wouldn't even be here unless...why AM I here, Lib?"
"Because I asked you to be here, Sir."
"Why?"
"Because I need discipline."
"Ah, yes. There you go. You do need discipline, don't you Libby?" I nodded, breathless at what he had lead me into. "And why do you need discipline?"
"Because I'll never reach my full potential without discipline."
"Very well said! That's lovely, Libby. Now that we both know why I'm really here, let's re-address punishment. For 32 infractions in one room, Libby, what might we do?"
"A spanking in panties, standing...32 handspanks."
"Not quite, but better. Here's what I propose. In this hypothetical situation, you will have certainly earned a bare bottom spanking." I nodded. "You will be standing, bending forward, with your hands clasping your ankles. Show me."
Instantly now I sprang up. He had taken away my fig leaf, my pretense of confusion. He was here because I had asked him to help me.
Self Improvement Contract II (My Red Notebook)
(...continued)
So I sat there, on the floor pillows, feeling rather absurd in my panties. But I continued to write diligently in the notebook he'd given me. My Red Notebook.
He walked around my living room, shaking his head at the clutter, ticking off so many things, so quickly, and in his brogue, that sometimes I had to ask him to please repeat what he'd just said. He obliged and never seemed impatient. He wanted me to understand, clearly, what was expected of me.
Now, my apartment is rather small, so I'm embarrassed to say that just within the living room there were 32 housekeeping infractions (of course they weren't infractions yet, but would be, next time, because I will have known better). But he was very thorough - baseboards scrubbed, windows cleaned, blinds dusted, bookcases dusted, etc.
"Now, Libby," he said, and sat down in my wing chair - after having to pick up my coat, "go hang this up, there's a good girl, then bring your pillow and your Notebook over here so we can have a little chat before I continue with the inspection."
When I was seated on the floor by his knee he asked me to read what I'd written, so that it was clear that I understood. When I finished reading, he began to speak in a deep, patient tone.
"How many infractions did you have in just this one room, Girl?"
I counted to make sure. "32, Sir."
"32 what, Love? You had 32 what?"
"I had 32 housekeeping infractions in this one room, Sir."
"And doesn't that seem like quite a lot for such a small room? For one small girl?"
"Yes, Sir."
It was incredibly embarrassing, sitting there at his knee, in panties, feeling his eyes consider me.
Won't You Follow, Lovey?
Good morning, Lovies! Woke up to my first comment today from the lovely Emma Enchanted, and it made me so happy. It emboldened me to ask...won't you follow me? I'm the new girl on the block, but I'd like to play, too!
xoxoxo
Libby
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Self Improvement Contract
I've been preparing a contract of sorts, a list of expectations, of things that I know that I should naturally do as a responsible adult.
Arriving at the realization that there is someone out there who can and will help be the best person I can be is so exciting...
I find myself weighing the difference between a good girl spanking and a bad girl spanking - if I don't have clean panties every day, I think, what should that earn me? It seems a kind of trifling offense, but it's one of my especial issues - having laundry done and in general having everything tidy.
I have fantasies of a mysterious mentor showing up to do a white glove inspection. Though I've been warned ahead of time of his arrival, I don't quite know what to expect. I've never really been properly trained in how to clean a home...in my fantasy it unfolds this way:
He arrives, and quickly I can see his dismay. He doesn't even bother to put on his white gloves, as it seems obvious to him that my housekeeping is sadly lacking.
"Libby," he begins, in his Scottish brogue that makes me go all furry inside, "are we really going to do this?"
"Yes, Sir," I giggle, "I'm sorry, Sir, I do want to do this."
"Then why are you giggling, Girl?" His disappointment makes my giggling stop.
"I'm sorry."
He shakes his head. For a moment I wonder if he's going to leave.
"Please, then, Libby, you must cooperate." I bow my head at his chastisement.
"All right then, let's begin. You're wearing nice clean panties, I'm sure?"
"Absolutely." This was something upon which we'd been absolutely clear I was to do.
"Good. Off with your jeans, then, Girl." He said the words offhandedly, and I wasn't sure that I'd heard him right. He was opening the brown leather satchel that he brought, the one I'd seen him carry on campus.
"Problem?" He asks me, eyebrows raised.
"No, Sir." Quickly I unbutton and unzip my jeans. I cannot wait to get them off, truly, and challenge myself to have them fully off and have myself posed demurely by the time he turns around to see me. I don't succeed. I'm hopping a little, struggling to free my left foot of my Levi's as he turns around. He tries to hide his bemusement, and I blush. He's a gentleman.
Finally I'm free of my jeans, and, trying to cover for my little humiliation, say proudly, "yes, Sir," and stand coolly, arms behind my back, in my little black briefs.
He barely affords me a glance.
"Good girl," he says, but it's offhanded. Not the meaningful Good Girl that I crave.
He hands me a red spiral notebook, the kind one buys for .39, and a pen. I peek within the cover. In big black letters, he has written "Libby's housekeeping book". When I feel that he's watching me, I quickly close the book.
"It's alright, Libby, you may look at it, though you were correct to think that you should ask first. What a little brat you are to look without asking!" I blush. He seems more amused than angry. "You should have asked, shouldn't you have?"
"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." I find myself shifting involuntarily from one foot to the other.
"It's alright. We're just starting. Have a seat, Libby," he gestures toward the stacked pillows on my floor. Just then, he notices my jeans in a heap on the floor, and looks at me with a question in his eyes. "You just leave your clothes on the floor like that?" I feel myself blush deeply.
"No Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." I scramble to pluck them from the floor and fold them. Even more nervous, now, I hold the jeans across my lap.
"Put them down on the floor beside you, Girl, and open your book. That's yours. Since it's what you need, I'm going to tell you what a man expects in a clean home. You're to take notes in that book I brought you. You must keep it and study it and always be ready to present it to me in good shape, with notes and reports and questions, if you have them. Are you going to be able to do that, Libby?"
"Yes, Sir," my hands are shaking as I take the cap from the pen and get ready to write.
"You make keep the book as you see fit, Love, but you need to always be able to explain my expectations, and to demonstrate that you've fulfilled them. I mean, for God's Sake, Libby, you're a grown woman. You should at least be aware of HOW to keep a home, do you understand?"
Arriving at the realization that there is someone out there who can and will help be the best person I can be is so exciting...
I find myself weighing the difference between a good girl spanking and a bad girl spanking - if I don't have clean panties every day, I think, what should that earn me? It seems a kind of trifling offense, but it's one of my especial issues - having laundry done and in general having everything tidy.
I have fantasies of a mysterious mentor showing up to do a white glove inspection. Though I've been warned ahead of time of his arrival, I don't quite know what to expect. I've never really been properly trained in how to clean a home...in my fantasy it unfolds this way:
He arrives, and quickly I can see his dismay. He doesn't even bother to put on his white gloves, as it seems obvious to him that my housekeeping is sadly lacking.
"Libby," he begins, in his Scottish brogue that makes me go all furry inside, "are we really going to do this?"
"Yes, Sir," I giggle, "I'm sorry, Sir, I do want to do this."
"Then why are you giggling, Girl?" His disappointment makes my giggling stop.
"I'm sorry."
He shakes his head. For a moment I wonder if he's going to leave.
"Please, then, Libby, you must cooperate." I bow my head at his chastisement.
"All right then, let's begin. You're wearing nice clean panties, I'm sure?"
"Absolutely." This was something upon which we'd been absolutely clear I was to do.
"Good. Off with your jeans, then, Girl." He said the words offhandedly, and I wasn't sure that I'd heard him right. He was opening the brown leather satchel that he brought, the one I'd seen him carry on campus.
"Problem?" He asks me, eyebrows raised.
"No, Sir." Quickly I unbutton and unzip my jeans. I cannot wait to get them off, truly, and challenge myself to have them fully off and have myself posed demurely by the time he turns around to see me. I don't succeed. I'm hopping a little, struggling to free my left foot of my Levi's as he turns around. He tries to hide his bemusement, and I blush. He's a gentleman.
Finally I'm free of my jeans, and, trying to cover for my little humiliation, say proudly, "yes, Sir," and stand coolly, arms behind my back, in my little black briefs.
He barely affords me a glance.
"Good girl," he says, but it's offhanded. Not the meaningful Good Girl that I crave.
He hands me a red spiral notebook, the kind one buys for .39, and a pen. I peek within the cover. In big black letters, he has written "Libby's housekeeping book". When I feel that he's watching me, I quickly close the book.
"It's alright, Libby, you may look at it, though you were correct to think that you should ask first. What a little brat you are to look without asking!" I blush. He seems more amused than angry. "You should have asked, shouldn't you have?"
"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." I find myself shifting involuntarily from one foot to the other.
"It's alright. We're just starting. Have a seat, Libby," he gestures toward the stacked pillows on my floor. Just then, he notices my jeans in a heap on the floor, and looks at me with a question in his eyes. "You just leave your clothes on the floor like that?" I feel myself blush deeply.
"No Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." I scramble to pluck them from the floor and fold them. Even more nervous, now, I hold the jeans across my lap.
"Put them down on the floor beside you, Girl, and open your book. That's yours. Since it's what you need, I'm going to tell you what a man expects in a clean home. You're to take notes in that book I brought you. You must keep it and study it and always be ready to present it to me in good shape, with notes and reports and questions, if you have them. Are you going to be able to do that, Libby?"
"Yes, Sir," my hands are shaking as I take the cap from the pen and get ready to write.
"You make keep the book as you see fit, Love, but you need to always be able to explain my expectations, and to demonstrate that you've fulfilled them. I mean, for God's Sake, Libby, you're a grown woman. You should at least be aware of HOW to keep a home, do you understand?"
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
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