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Flashback Friday: Exposed

5 Aug
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 

 
“Please pass the syrup and tell me, did everyone hear my spanking last night?” I asked the assorted guests at the Bed & Breakfast where D and I spent our weekend. “If not, I’m sure D could give it another go before check out.”
 
They heard. But you know I didn’t really ask. However, that question hung in the air, thicker than the honey-glazed bacon the innkeeper served for breakfast. I saw the truth there, as they glanced from D and back to me — D looking as proud as a peacock while meeting their eyes, me staring intently at their foreheads.
 
While charming in its 1896 imperfections, the house was not designed to hide the boisterous affairs of its occupants. And boisterous we were, although much less so due to my pleading, “Not the belt! Everyone will hear!” It was a request spoken in a loud, mirthful whisper, a request I’m positive was overheard as well.
 
Really they should have thanked us. I am certain, in the afterglow of our tryst, I heard a pair of beds squeaking in the night.
 

Flashback Friday: Parking Fines

29 Jul
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 
To the parking attendant in Indy:
 
I’m sorry that we stole your “park” paddle but we definitely needed it more than you. You’ll be happy to know that my naughty bottom received a taste of it later in the form of a smack that rang out through the camper, jolting our hosts from their slumber.
 
(Perhaps you heard it too and mistook it for cracks of thunder?)
 
In the actual theft of the paddle, I maintain my innocence. My Dom caught me quite by surprise when he pulled it out from the couch cushions and ordered my panties down. Still, I did not return it to you the next morning (oh, how I wish that I did!) so I am complicit in the crime. I expect to receive my comeuppance shortly, so I hope this transgression can remain between us.
 
Your red-bottomed camper,
 
Miss Pink
 

Flashback Friday: Preheating Required

15 Jul
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 
 
In one of my many attempts at self-improvement, I have instituted a “one-new-recipe-a-week” rule. I love breakfast dinners and will whip up this quick and easy quiché for tonight.
 
Sausage and Mushroom Quiché
 
3 large eggs
1 pound small fresh button mushrooms
1 pound ground pork breakfast sausage
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 cup half-and-half cream
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 unbaked 9 inch pie crust
 
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Prepare the mushrooms by snipping off the stems. Cut in half if large. Use your small wooden cutting board for the job.
 

 
2. Crumble the sausage in a large skillet, add the mushrooms, cook on medium-high heat until the meat and mushrooms are lightly browned and all the liquid from the mushrooms has evaporated. Drain off the grease. Add the parsley. Imagine what that big, bad spatula can do.
 

 
3. In a large bowl, beat the eggs, adding the cream, cheese and salt. Pour into the mushroom/sausage mixture; blending well. Pour mixture into the pie shell. Lean over the counter, close your eyes and imagine him behind you.
 

 
4. Bake in preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes, until crust is well browned and the filling is set. Let stand 10 minutes in the corner before serving.
 

 
Saturday is laundry day here, so be sure to join me tomorrow for my stain-removal tips.
 

 

Flashback Friday: Day at the Museum

1 Jul
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 
 
I know this is a spanking blog. Please permit me to deviate and share with you my experiences from a museum exhibit on costumes from some popular movies and television shows. I know, boring shmoring. But wait…is it?
 
When I saw this:
 

I immediately thought of this:
 

 
When my eyes feasted on this:
 

I couldn’t help but think of this:
 

 
 
And this:
 

Made me think of this:
 

 
 
Finally, George Clooney’s batsuit:
 

Of course, made me remember this:
 

I really have no idea how those museum curators can stand working in such sexually charged environs.
 

Flashback Friday: Parts of the Whole

24 Jun

Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 
“You are not only mine to spank, to fuck, to use as I please, but you are also mine to pamper and care for in any way I see fit.”
 
He lifted the sponge from the water and dragged it across her clavicle and down between her breasts before it disappeared below the foam again, only to be felt sliding beneath her navel to stop above her mound.
 
“If I want to take you over my knee I need no reason. If I want you to suck my cock you need no explanation. If you want to cum you need my permission. Understood?”
 
The rippling water as she moved her head had to suffice as an answer because at that moment his finger plunged into her, robbing her of coherent speech.

“This is mine,” he growled, pushing deeper. His other hand spread her legs and reached under her to grab her bottom, “And this…” His fingers trailed upward to tease her left nipple to a peak. “This, and this,” whispering now, he pinched her right nipple.
 
“All of these parts, they are mine to touch, to tease, to pleasure and punish. Understood?” He asked again, this time withdrawing his hands from her body to allow for a response.
 
“Yes, Sir, understood. And thank you,” she said her lips matching the smile in her eyes.
 
“Good. Now on to your bath. Would you like more bubbles?”
 

Flashback Friday: Farewell to E.d.

17 Jun
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 
 
I should be embarrassed about what I’m going to admit, but I guess I’m past the point of shame with you, readers.
 
For the past few months I’ve been having trouble with my DVR. The problems only occur at night when I’m watching my recorded shows in bed. The DVR locks up and I need to reset the whole thing, only to have it happen again minutes later. I’ve been a pretty dissatisfied customer.
 
Last week the good folks at AT&T came out to examine their equipment but could find nothing wrong. The bewildered technician stayed for awhile trying to recreate the issue, but eventually shrugged his shoulders and scribbled down his cell phone number, telling me to call him directly if the problem persisted.
 
That same night, the issue happened again. A few nights later found me yelling at the box and stamping my feet, pondering the tech’s cell phone number and thinking about calling him in the morning.
 
Well, last night, it finally dawned on me.
 
I was watching my recorded “How I Met Your Mother”, and the DVR froze. So, I turned off my Hitachi Magic Wand (yes, this is the embarrassing part) to get out of bed, and it unfroze. I laid back to enjoy the show and the lulling vibrations, and it froze again. A few more clicks of my vibrator, and I started to notice a correlation. Vibrator on, DVR malfunctions. Vibrator off, DVR functions.
 
After checking another outlet, I realized the power of E.d. (Electric Delight, aka the Hitachi) was too great to enjoy TV and get off at the same time.
 
So, E.d., here is your notice: you are officially shelved. I am reconciling with B.o.b. (aka Battery Operated Boyfriend) immediately because missing my HIMYM episodes is too great a sacrifice.
 
It’s been fun, but a girl must have priorities.
 

Flashback Friday: Lucky Number Seven

27 May
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 

Number One:
 
“No, I think you have to do it HARDER.”
 
He increased the impact just enough that it was finally past the ticklish whisper of his palm against my bottom.
 
“Ummm….yeah, that’s better. Now HARDER, I think.” I said, feeling the frustrated pull in my belly. I knew I needed something, had fantasized about this moment for as long as I could remember. It took all of my courage to finally ask my college boyfriend to spank me, “really spank me”, hoping he would know what that meant.
 

He had no idea what that meant. But I give him big points for being open-minded.
 
And so there we were, two 19-year-olds, he on the bed and me over his lap with my pants around my knees. His hand slow and tentative, warming my firm, young cheeks as I marveled at the sensation of finally being over a man’s lap.
 
We improved with time, but it was far from perfect. I wanted and needed more. These first moments didn’t quench my desire, but fueled it instead, propelling me down an unusual path that most don’t know exists. A spanko was born.
 

 
Number 7:
 
“Pull down your pants. NOW!”
 
The words surprised me. There we were, enjoying a glass of wine after dinner in my cozy living room on our first meeting. And the commanding tone of his voice shocked me.
 
I knew it was coming. I had dressed appropriately, at his request. Concealed beneath my daily wear of a scoop-neck tee and jeans were the corset, garters and stockings as he had specified.
 
So the shock was unwarranted, but the spreading fingers of heat through my pussy WAS unanticipated. Nobody had dared be that direct with me, not on the first meeting. And yet, his steady gaze of expectation had me fumbling for the button on my pants as I eeked out a “yes, Sir.”
 

 
Pants down and off, I glanced shyly at him, finding amusement and pleasure in his returning stare. “Turn around,” he said.
 
A moment’s pause, and I turned, fumbling with my stockings as I did so. I willed myself to stare at the wall in front of me, to stop fidgeting, to breathe. I heard him rise and leave the room, his footsteps across the kitchen quickly replaced with the sound of the chair in my dining room being pulled out and carried to where I stood.
 

This was the moment. There was no doubt now that this was happening: I would soon be over his lap, feeling his years of experience as a Dom against my neglected bottom.
 
I felt his fingers caress my exposed cheeks and the butterflies took flight. Goose-flesh replaced his fingertips and I exhaled a gasp of held anticipation.
 
“Are you ready?” He whispered, close to my left ear now, his breath hot and soft. What could I say? God, yes, I’d never been more ready or unready in my life!
 
I must have nodded. Or squeaked out something that resembled a “yes”, because soon he was seated and pulling me across his knees.
 

After some minor adjustments to my garter, a caress to my hair and a tender acknowledgment of my offered bottom, he began a slow and measured rhythm that would gradually increase to an unpredictable staccato that lasted for months (and counting).
 
He is often hard, harder than I knew I wanted, but he carries me across the line between pleasure and pain, pushing me further than I’ve yet been pushed. He propels me down this path, that first began as a curiosity-turned-obsession, but has now transformed into a necessity.
 
It’s as necessary as orgasms and sex, poetry and chocolate. It is who I am, a defining part. I am not a spanko. I am his submissive.
 

Flashback Friday: I got stripes

20 May
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 

It’s inexplicable, this recent addiction to Johnny Cash. I’ve always been a fan and I have a vinyl collection to prove it; but lately, I find Cash songs stuck in my head on an almost daily basis. The one that I’ve been humming since Friday night? “I’ve got stripes”:
 

On a monday I was ar-rested (uh huh)
on a Tuesday they locked me in the jail (oh boy)
on a Wednesday my trial was at-tested
on a Thursday they said guilty & the judge’s gavel fell
 
I got stripes – stripes around my shoulders
I got chains – chains around my feet
I got stripes – stripes around my shoulders
and them chains – them chains they’re about to drag me down

 
 
Except for me: I got stripes, stripes upon my sit spots/I got stripes, stripes upon my cheeks. I just hope I don’t sing it out loud.
 
The implement? Another crop: evil, inflexible, and cane-like, it was dressed in an innocuous, cheery pink nylon from Fleck. The reaction? Air hissing through my teeth, knees buckling after each stroke, it made an impact.
 
For a spanko, it’s difficult to find an actual physical punishment. But this was another job well done! (Please don’t mistake that as encouragement for a repeat session!)

Flashback Friday: Know When to Fold ‘Em

13 May
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 
Might I suggest a game of cards? How about a game that includes 4 implements, an eager bottom, and a playful Dom?
 
Folks, I played “Round Robin” and it broke me. Broke me. Me, the girl who doesn’t cry.
 
Here’s how you play:
 
1. The top or Dom chooses 4 implements (with or without the sub’s approval). In my case? The belt, a paddle, a hairbrush and…a crop. Not my choice, mind you;
 
2. The sub or bottom chooses two cards from a deck (minus Aces and Jokers). Each card is face value or Jack is 11, Queen is 12, and King is 13. The kicker is that pesky 2 card. It DOUBLES the other card. So the highest one can achieve is 26;
 
3. Rotate through the implements, delivering the number of swats as determined by the cards;
 
4. Continue until the deck is gone.
 
 
We skipped part 4.
 
We did not continue until the deck was gone. What happened to our valiant heroine? Well, friends, she drew a 2 and a King (26) for the crop. The thought of 26 with a crop on an already well-spanked bottom was enough to drive me to tears.
 
Have I told you that I don’t cry? I don’t. Like hardly ever (except that one time).
 
But there they were: tears springing to my eyes, a tremble in my lip, and a sincere desire to call a halt. Which I didn’t do. I didn’t say, “let’s stop.” I didn’t use my safe word. He just knew.
 
For that I am thankful.
 
Lest you think I have a softie Dom, you must know that I still got the belt. Hard. And then he strung me up by my toes.
 
Kidding.
 
Since publishing this last May 2010, D & I invited Rayne, of Mischief Managed, to join in our spanko games. You can read the first installment of that night here.
 
Oh, and about that crying business? Now I cry when I need to.

Flashback Friday: Pull My Trigger

6 May
Borrowing from American Spanking Society’s idea of Flashback Fridays, I will repost an entry from approximately one year prior. Hope you enjoy the trip down Memory Lane as much as I do!
 
It’s a quirk of the eyebrows, a slight pull of the lips, a pause, a sigh, a hand run through his hair in exasperation. There are so many things that pull my trigger, get me hot, that it’s hard to discern all of the separate ingredients that make a sexy exchange. Altogether, I feel like a well-chastened bug zapper waiting to crackle and pop, my sparks sending waves of hair-raising energy to anyone fortunate enough to be near.
 

 
So I offer you a brief list of the things that are creamy, dreamy, and just plain steamy:
 
1. The mechanics of sleeve rolling, slow and deliberate, with eye contact and a steady determination that indicates the plan in mind requires some elbow grease;
 
2. The jangle of a belt buckle. I swear I have sonar for this. The erotic clank-and-ring raise goose-flesh from the other room;

3. “And what do you think we need to do about this, young lady?” Let’s start by wringing out my panties, Sir;
 
4. Pulling out an armless chair, letting it drag across the carpet to the center of the room; the slide of the wooden legs to their destination are like nails across my belly, a nipple-tightening sensation that makes my thighs quiver and my mouth go dry;
5. Grabbing a knuckle-full of my hair without warning while issuing a direct and short stare before releasing me, a reminder that, at any time, I am his;
 
6. Asking for it, my hands clasped before me, my bottom lip pulled in between my teeth, my gaze betraying the passion and need inside, my voice direct yet shy;

7. The simplicity of a gentle pat on my bottom in public, a signal of tenderness and reassurance wrapped in the heat of a promise;
 
8. An early phone call, “tonight you will be spanked,” and all of the other details are kept purposely vague, inspiring my mind to work its creative story-telling ability to develop a hot, hot scene;

9. Inspection before making an over-the-knee trip, instructing me to drop my jeans and stand, motionless before him while he caresses my bottom first with his eyes and then with his hands;
 
10. The surprise attack: a sudden unsnapping of my jeans, strong hands pushing me over the kitchen table, the yank of my panties to my knees for a short and quick, spontaneous session that is as hard as it is desired.
 
Hmmm….now excuse me while I go celebrate May, National Masturbation Month.

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