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Calling Liz to the Carpet

11 Jan

Statuesque beauty, Amelia over Dallas' lap

Isn’t it a coups for a man to take a taller woman over his lap and reduce the wriggling giant to apologetic tears? Isn’t there something frighteningly sexy about a petite woman dominating another who, under other circumstances, could squash her under her proud, high-heeled boots?
 
Renowned author of erotica with her own, inspiring blog Sexuelle, Elizabeth Forster, deemed Amelia Jane Rutherford (that stunning woman of 6’1″) “too big to spank” by anyone less than 6’8″.
 

The photo that Liz found aesthetically displeasing.


I’ve made reference before to my height — just 2″ shy of Amelia’s. Being a tall submissive is hard, with feelings of self-consciousness and the fear that others share Liz’s sentiments that one must be smaller than her spanker.
 
Given how few men reach the staggering measurements that Liz suggests, girls like Amelia and I would find our lily orbs decidedly neglected if we were to follow Liz’s rule of aesthetics. And the world would be poorer for it.
 

Amelia Jane Rutherford's amazing bottom receives a strapping.


Because of the deficit of tall spankers, I would hope that when I place my long frame over a shorter man’s knees, he wouldn’t focus on how far my legs and arms hung down, but rather on the joy of having a nice, round bottom to spank. Knowing that I’d be a match in any physical struggle but, instead, choosing to be under his hand, he’d feel secure in his skills as a respectable dominant — size notwithstanding.
 
I assert that it is not the bulk of the Top that has a tall woman like me submitting, but the strength of his or her will.
 

Tall woman in the corner, Amelia Jane


What say you, Liz? Shall we test your toppiness with a woman who, by choice, lays her long legs across your lap? Are you, the self-proclaimed “lover of petite things”, top enough to subdue another by the strength of your will alone?
 
I triple-dog dare you to try.
 
Please note, I am and will continue to be a big fan of Sexuelle. If you have not yet had the pleasure of peeking into Liz’s delicious thoughts, please do so. You won’t be disappointed.

Ain’t too proud to beg

24 Nov

“Pride comes before a fall.”
 
-Proverb
 
I used to proudly state that nobody could make me cry with just a spanking. I am physically strong: there is nothing petite or dainty about my build. Being 5’11 and with a high pain tolerance, I know I posed a challenge to many a spanker — first with my long legs that rarely dangled and kicked helplessly, and second with my refusal to allow any pain to sink into my prideful heart and mind.
 
Yes, I could take quite the spanking. If I cried, which was rare, it wasn’t about the physical pain, but rather the emotional connectedness. I’ve written about this already.
 
Now there is an additional component. My bottom is betraying me these days. In addition to the emotional element, the pain is sinking in.

 
My coyness, once ceremonial, is now a sincere desire for the spanking to end — and sometimes for it not to even begin. I don’t understand this increased sensitivity. Is it hormonal? Weather change? Is D just spanking me harder, trying to find my growing limits? Or is my bottom always sensitive these days due to the frequent and vigorous attention that it receives?
 
D, of course, has noticed my panicked wriggling, my change in tone, my increased struggle.  He has commented on how quickly my voice fills with tears, way before I actually shed any.
 
He claims that he is “turning it up a notch”.  Perhaps I had grown complacent in receiving a spanking.  Perhaps his desire for dominance is quenched by making me truly submit — and true submission often means submitting to something we don’t necessarily want or think that we can take.

The result is a much more emotional experience. I, the Amazonian woman, become a pygmy over his lap, powerless to stop the onslaught of his hand. My surrender is both an emotional and a physical one requiring an enhanced trust in the man I call my own.
 
With him I am free to beg. I am free to plead. There is no disappointment in myself, either from him or me.
 
It turns out that I need this, as much as I don’t really want the pain. I need to know that I can be pushed to my outer boundaries, emotionally and physically, and be reigned in afterward by the safety of his arms.

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