Stress

Stress.  At the moment, stress is the food of every day.  Each moment is weighed down with it.  Seems that at every turn we find more stress just waiting for us.  I wish that it would stop.  It seems that stress has a mind of it's own.  It is a living breathing being of some sort that can never be killed.
It is time for something else to feed this life of mine.

Beluga Whale

This is a picture of me with a beluga whale.  I was gifted a trip to Canada and an up close and personal, whale experience.  The adventure was awe-inspiring.  If you have never had a behind the scenes look at some of the animals, I highly recommend it.  (The whale pictured here is in captivity because he was injured and could not be returned to the wild.)  A behind the scenes look gave me a much better understanding of the animal and it's habits, diet, personality, etc.  They had me prepare his food.  That was not a pleasant experience for me.  I was taught the commands used to bring him to the sides to be examined by a vet when needed.  This was one of the gentlest creatures I have ever encountered.  I was surprised by how it actually felt to touch him.  I expected he would feel slimy, like a fish.  Instead, he was soft and warm to the touch.  I came away from the experience changed, with a deeper compassion for all creatures big and small.

The Surgeon Says...

So, Mickey went and sat in the surgeons office today.  She actually did not have to wait long.  She told them that either the surgeon would work her in or she would go downstairs to the ER department and check herself in and then they would make him see her.  He called the insurance company and was told that the surgery has not been approved.  He told them they had better approve it quickly because he was doing the surgery with or without approval this Friday.  We will see if this works out like we would like for it to or not.  She also left messages with 2 different lawyers while she was waiting to be seen as well.
In my humble opinion, someone needs to be held accountable for this.  She has been in pain for months.  They have known of the actual problem for over 2 weeks now and still have done nothing.  Physically and emotionally it is taking a toll on her.  It is taking a toll on both of us.  I want her well and out of pain finally.

Note to Self

Writing

“Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly each day.”

This is a quote by William Allingham.  I love it!  I can relate to it so much.  As one who writes daily, I see it as very true some days.  I will sit here at the computer and wonder what in the world I am going to write about.  Many times, I simply just start writing what ever I happen to be thinking.  The lack of a specific goal, usually makes the words flow freely.
It has always confused me when someone says to me that they cannot write.  It makes me wonder why every one doesn't hear the same voice inside that I do.  Writing can be like sitting down and talking with someone.  Face to face it is very difficult for me to speak.  This voice I use to write with, is the same voice so many use to hold a conversation.  I have never seen it as *hard*.
Others have told me over the years that when I write, I should have someone in mind that I am writing to.  I can't say that I have ever done that very much.  I write because I love it.  I would write even if no one ever read it.  It is a part of me that I cannot imagine ever letting go of.
I write to work through emotions.  I write to share experiences.  I write for my pleasure.  Some days it feels like I write to keep myself sane.  I write to discover myself.  I even write to see just where my thoughts end up going!

Blah!

It has been one of those days.  Filled with physical pain.  Needed help getting to my feet to get out of bed.  The constant rain and colder temperatures doesn't help.  Then I have wet and muddy dogs jumping on me and wanting under the blanket to warm up.  So between me and the blanket is wet cold dog!  Normally, I like the fact that they are living heating pads.  Wet & dirty?  Not so much.

Emotionally I feel like a laundry basket that is filled with puppies that I am trying to catch and corral back inside the containment!  Things are coming up faster than I can shove them down or away.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I am suppose to be dealing with them.  But, ya know what?  I don't want to!  

There has to be a way to salvage this day and change my mood.

I did write an email and come completely clean to a person that I needed to come clean to.  I didn't exactly lie, but I sure didn't exactly tell the truth either.  It did not sit well with my conscience.  I felt the need to right what I was feeling was so wrong.  The fact that I have a conscience is good.  I sure don't need a tattletale in my life.  I do a good enough job of it all on my own.  I can't stand it when I know I haven't been honest.  I can't get away with anything, because I tell on myself!

I have been thinking about the things my therapist wants me to do.  Every ounce of me says NO!  Usually, I am not afraid of hard work.  What she is asking of me is going to be very hard.  The fact that she also wants me to share it seems even harder.  I have never tackled the violence of my father in any real significant way.  I admit he was violent.  That's about it though.  To speak the details?  There is a part of me that knows it is going to cause a shift in my feelings toward him.  She believes I am strong enough and that I have a strong safety net.  Me?  I am not feeling as confident.

A Quote

I found this quote in an interview with Miss Chris : "I particularly enjoy taking a spankee on a tour of land and prospects they wouldn’t be able to explore with anyone else. I like to say I’m the Tour Guide through Hell, I can take you there, as deeply as you want to go, help you navigate while you’re there, and then lead you back out into the world a better, and stronger person."

I know that sometimes there is what is almost like a love/hate relationship with spankings.  The wanting and the need is there.  The build up while waiting for it is filled with so many different feelings.  The preparation can be thrilling and anxiety filled. The ritual of going over the lap, the raising of the skirt and rolling down of the panties. Then there is the actual spanking.  It might start off soft and easy or hot and hard.  Either way, it often builds up to a level of pain that sometimes we don't think we want any more.  It hurts!  I have been over a lap or two where I have wondered how I got myself into this and promised repeatedly that I would never ever do it again. Pretty much hating it as it gets more painful.  When it is done and over with - there is a release.  For me, very often a centering.  My world is okay again.  Whatever was going on prior to the spanking, is now different.  
I had never thought of it quite in the way that Miss Chris described.  A spanking partner or a Disciplinarian, can really do that with the one they are spanking.  They have so much responsibility placed on them.  They have to watch us, read our body language, watch the skin, the whole time, enjoying themselves as well.  After all, would they really do it if they didn't enjoy it?  Don't get me wrong, as the one being spanked, we are not off the hook in the responsibility department.  We are responsible for our well-being emotionally and physically.  Someone spanking us may say something unknowingly that triggers us in a bad way.  We have to own that and communicate that with the Top.  I will never be able to emphasis enough how important communication is.  More than that, it has to be honest, open communication.  There are somethings that we just don't want to share.  Whether it is from embarrassment or shame or something else, all I can say is SAY it anyway.  If you are preparing for a spanking, especially with a new person, be honest!  They are Tops, not mind-readers.  They can take us on an unforgettable journey and hopefully we want it to be a very nice one when we have reached the end.
I believe that a Disciplinary Spanker who takes on a bottom, does exactly what Miss Chris is describing.  Whether it is one session or many, if it is for discipline specifically, there is a type of journey that can take place.  Looking at those places where guilt has risen.  Being scolded for specific things.  Spanked for specific real life offenses.  Standing in the corner or writing lines.  There is a purpose in it.  The result so much of the time is the release of so much pent up emotion and guilt.  On the other side of the session emerges a person who is a little different, changed, stronger, lighter, freer, etc.

Tiny Soldier

Oh tiny soldier, with your stubbornness and grit, this is not a giving up, it's just the time to quit.  You're battle worn body, wracked with scars and pain, there's nothing more for you to give and everything to gain.  Your weapons can be laid down, right here in this place.  Let us wash those blood soaked tears, from your tiny face.  Arms now wait for you, to wash the guilt and grime of war.  The fields have all grown over, the pain will be no more.  Your bravery that went unseen, now shines here in this place.  The days ahead wait for you, filled with love and grace.
**************************************************************

Something I wrote tonight.  The tiny soldier that fought for sanity in a f*cked up world.
It wasn't right.  It wasn't fair and it wasn't her fault. ( I know at least two people who will be glad I said that)
I am suppose to say, it wasn't *my* fault.  Right now, I can say that I am trying.  Actually, I am suppose to not say again, that it *is* my fault.
The blame is on me for destroying the relationship with my mother.  WHOA!! Back up.  How is that statement in any way honoring the tiny soldier?   It isn't.  It is setting blame where none should be.  That little soldier may need to answer for a couple of things now.  She did some pretty rotten things.  The thing is though, that the *answering*, correction and or punishment, isn't about the deed so much as it is about the guilt.  I guess I kind of see it as stripping her of those old filthy clothes of war and placing her in a warm bath.  Gently cleansing what is under those torn blood stained pieces of armor.  Soothing her whole body in the warmth of that water.  As the cleansing water pours over her, letting her hear those words of love, hear that she is loved, she is good, she is free, she is whole, she is wanted, she is brave, she doesn't have to fight anymore, the war is over.

Breaking Down The Wall

I have been told frequently lately that I am stronger than I know.  Grabbing a hold of that and truly believing it for myself isn't easy.  At least right now it isn't.  I want to move forward.  Sometimes, my whole being screams out that I just can't.  I can't take one more step.  I can't reach out one more time.  I can't face this. I can't, I can't, I can't.
Funny, how sometimes the answer is right there inside of me.  Just waiting for my screams to silence so I can hear it.
There is a rage in me.  I have kept it pretty safely walled up inside me.  Protected myself from it.  Sure, haven't wanted to see it let alone feel it.  Absolutely no way I have wanted anyone else to see it.  Knowing it is there does scare me.  I have visions of the rage of my father.  What if i am like him?  Is the potential to be like that in me?
There is a very angry, tantrum throwing little girl inside me.  I realized tonight that I have never acknowledged that anger.  Stuffing it down, hiding it away, walling it up.... none of those things are in any way actually dealing with it.  It is time to start breaking down the wall.  No dynamite, nothing drastic... just a few bricks at a time.  Acknowledging that the little girl me who went through all of this horror actually has every right to be enraged.

I Quit

How many times have I said that?  Or actually done it?  Just quit.  Stop.  Throw the towel in?  Given up on myself or the situation?
Sometimes I feel like I am standing at a cross-roads.  Standing, waiting, contemplating, weighing my options.  The longer I stand here, the more I want to just turn around and run back to what is known and familiar.  I am sure I am not the only one that has found them self in this sort of place.  How often do we want to run back to where, even though it might not be, it feels safer?  At least we know what to expect there.
Two very impact-full things have happened to me this month.  Both intense.  Both emotion filled.  Both have made changes in me.  Both made me cry.  That in itself is enough to scare the living hell out of me.  Crying, for me means I have lost control.  I have never seen that as a good thing for myself.  Both have opened my heart and I don't know what to do with all these new emotions.
I am afraid and I want to quit.
What if instead, I say, I surrender?  Since, I can't exactly say that I welcome what is ahead but I know that it is right for me.  Can I say, I surrender to it?  I surrender to following this hard road regardless of the fear?  Is that being brave?   For sure, fear has chipped away at my dedication.
But, surrendering sounds like giving up too...

These are the times that I have to speak peace to myself.  I have to encourage myself.  This is the sort of situation where the parent in me comes out and I try to do the right things.  Setting boundaries around myself.  Allowing myself only a certain amount of time to dwell on whatever *it* is.  Then going and doing something else completely.  Redirecting myself into something that is fun for me to do.  Doing something someone else has asked me to do.  Doing whatever it is that takes my mind away from the distressing one at hand.  This is also when I do have to grab those boot-straps and pull.  I know that deep within, I don't want to quit or run away.  I went as far today as asking two people to please not let me quit.  Setting up what I hope will be safe-guards in place if they ever become needed.
I know we all experience the fight or flight question when we face some things in our lives.  And it is much easier to encourage someone else than to encourage ourselves, a lot of the time!  I don't want to encourage myself at these points when I want to run away. I just want to quit.  I try to move away from what is troubling me, center myself, and come back to *it* later.

Discipline

Discipline.  I am sure that word congers up different images for different people.  I am sure that for many who follow my blog, the first image is of a spanking.  It is one of the first things that cross my mind as well.  I have been spanked by quite a few different women in my adult life. ( No male has ever spanked me.)   Although I have been spanked by many, none were allowed to discipline me.  There was no correctional aspect to it. There was nothing there that had anything to do with changing or encouraging a certain behavior. (Miss Jenn is the exception)

Mickey and I share a D/s relationship that probably could also be correctly described as a DD relationship. (D/s - Dominant and submissive, DD - Domestic discipline)  There is no doubt that She is the head of household.  Both relationships came from a foundation of trust that was built through constant communication.  There was and still is a learning curve going on.  Mickey has my best interest at heart when she talks to me about something in my life.  She wants me safe physically and emotionally.  The discipline often revolves around something that needs to change.  A real problem for her right now is my refusal to eat and the fact that when I do finally agree to eat, or remember that I need to, I won't eat anything but a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  This actually has been going on for months now, at least 4.  The *discipline* process began with a lot of communication.  She has wanted to understand why I am not eating.  Sometimes, I just forget.  Food has never been important to me.  Mickey has seen me over the years get stuck on just one food.  I will want that food every day.  But until recently it was often just a certain fruit and I still ate small normal type meals.  I got stuck on wheat chex cereal for awhile and there was no less than 3 boxes in the house at any given time.  Because, I was still eating other meals with other foods, it was okay.  This time, I don't want any food at all.  I do forget, but it has also grown now to the point that even when I do remember, I just don't want it.  I have struggled with body issue things in the past and was anorexic.  At my lowest I weighed 64 pounds.  I am at 121 right now.  Not a *bad* weight for my 5'1" frame.  One of the problems for me is that I don't exactly have the curves that come with being a grown woman.  So when I look in the mirror, I see a barrel with arms and legs.  Even at my tiniest, I still had a stomach pouch and no amount of exercise made it go away.  It infuriated me.  Mickey and I talked about all of this.  I had/have the freedom to be completely honest without judgment.  She listens.  She encourages and makes suggestions.  She also brings truth into my body image vs. the reality of it. Communication is vital and with us it is constant.  She tells me her thoughts and concerns on this whole *food* thing as well as her wants.  With the communication happening and continuing, she started asking me what I wanted to eat, when it came time for us to have a meal.  Then came just being presented with a plate with the expectation that I at least take a few bites.  The discipline increased and has now moved into the *stage* where I have been told that I will eat at least one sandwich during the time that I am awake.  Tonight, I was presented with a protein shake that I was expected to finish and told that I will also eat at 2:00, no excuses.  I know full well that if I choose to not eat a sandwich at 2:00 there will be consequences.  The reason I am telling this is to show one of the ways discipline is taking place in my life and in our relationship.  It didn't go from her noticing that I was eating just one food, to demanding change from me or punishing me for it.  It didn't go from seeing that I stopped eating completely to demanding that I eat.  There was and is a process and not all situations are the same.  She has, can and will put her foot down when she thinks that is needed and do so immediately.  With this one, it was a slower path to her putting her foot down and it is definitely *down*.  The whole *process* was and is discipline with us.  With this one ,Mickey has tried to understand more and guide me to healthier choices.  She hasn't spanked me or done anything that others might see as punishment.  We have gone through other things similar to this, a similar path, that at this point, often included a threat, or question from her, "Maybe I should tell *so & so* what you are doing and let *her*deal with you." It is not that Mickey is incapable, not by any means.  That threat comes because Mickey knows me so well and herself.  It comes in part sometimes because she doesn't want the lover in her to hold her back from dealing with me more harshly if need be.  She has been that same *threat* to other girls from other dominants and not one of those girls wants to be sent to her to be dealt with!  There was a friend in our lives that Mickey knew if I was forced to tell her what I was doing/not doing, just the threat of me needing to tell her and the scolding I would get (because I had experienced it before) was enough to break through whatever resistance I was still trying to hold on to.  They never are and never have been empty threats. I know that Mickey is not far from spanking me.  She is also likely not far from getting Miss Jenn involved.  When Mickey has gone to involving someone else, She monitors it as well.  Anything and everything this other person had told me to do, from corner time, writing lines,  restrictions, etc, Mickey has made sure they were completely finished or followed exactly as instructed.  It was not a pleasant experience for me.

 Miss Jenn is also my Disciplinarian.  This relationship too has taken open, honest communication and building trust.  Just like with Mickey, I have no doubt that if she says she is going to do something, that she will.  They each have my respect and even though I am the one being corrected or spanked, even punished, I know that I too am respected.  Respect is another pillar of discipline, right up there with communication and trust.

Discipline is one of those subjects that could take hours and hours of writing blogs, exploring the different aspects, methods, what it means, etc.  Something to think about for sure.

Medicine

"Not all medicine needs to be ingested. Some is heard, some seen, some is felt."  This is a quote from Dr.V.
That quote gets me thinking about the things that bring the most healing into our lives.  It makes me think about the things that can touch my own life with much more significance than any meds that are put into my body.  I am not knocking meds, I would likely not be alive without them.
It makes me stop and think about the things I have heard.  A piece of music that is so touching it is beyond words of explanation.  It brings a soothing into me that can calm the brewing storm that threatens to rise.  The music that moves me to the point that I can't stand still.  I have to move.  It plucks away at my mood, helping me to change it.  The music that is so familiar that I am automatically singing along to it at the top of my lungs.  All, medicine for my soul.  When my mood is *ugly* I often feel the pain in my body more intensely. For me, change the mood, change the pain level, works more often than not.
It is not only in music.  The sounds around me make a difference.  Running water in nature is a sound that can take me to another place.  I find some of the greatest peace there.  A baby giggling with all that they are, always brings a smile to my face.  It can be so contagious, regardless of my mood.  Hearing the voices of those that I know care about me, reminding me that I am loved, that I am strong, that they care.... these give me added strength.  They can be the medicine that I hear that helps me take one more step or tackle one more issue.  Those sounds, all of them, can be the medicine that means the difference between success and failure on my part.   For me they can bring healing and peace and wholeness and sometimes in ways I had in no way expected.
What have I seen that was as a medicine to me?  The face of a person I didn't know was coming to visit and I hadn't seen in years.  An elderly couple walking hand in hand.  A piece of art that played on my emotions. An elephant, almost any elephant, for some reason brings a smile to my face.  The open arms of one who loves me, beckoning me into them.  The spanking implement held in the hand of one who means to use it on me.  Eyes filled with compassion.  Books I have read that open my eyes to something different.  The success of someone I care about.  The passing from this life into death of the man I held in my arms.
What I see with all of these things are they address me, (or us) as a whole person, not just flesh and bone.  There is another quote from Dr.V. that goes something like this:  Why seek out a healer that profits from illness?  That speaks volumes to me about treating the whole person that I am.  I am much more than what can be seen easily and on x-ray.  There is medicine, in the sense that Dr.V. is using it, all around each of us.  There for the taking if we wish.

Age Play

Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered how you got to be so old? Or, how you could feel so young? Or while looking at your reflection thought that what you were seeing sure didn't match what you were feeling?  I know I have.  Especially before and after I have done some age-play.
I enjoy age-play.  There is a 7 year old little girl in me that likes to have the freedom to play.  I have coloring books, stuffed animals, tea sets, blocks, books and a doll.  Things you might find in any little girl's bedroom.  Mickey, Daddie Mickey, spoils her little girl rotten.  She is often surprising me with something new.  I have the freedom to go and play anytime I want to.  The Master bedroom is set up for both the big and little me.  So many of the things have spilled out into the living room and it is not unusual to find me coloring in a coloring book while watching a television program.  I have both adult and children's coloring books.  Coloring relaxes me and has been useful in bringing down stress levels sometimes.  These impromptu times are just that, a few moments in time where I just relax and am in a younger mindset.
We also have planned out age-play times together.  These have been private, in the bedroom, intimate times of care and love.  Nothing sexual takes place.  All of it is nurturing.  I have never been a brat.  Well, not in the sense of some of what I have seen in videos on the internet.  Often, I have her laughing at my antics and I think we are both surprised at the freedom age-play really gives me.  Our age-play also has not been limited to the bedroom.  Daddie Mickey has taken me places.  To the movies, to the park, to the water, which is my favorite place in the whole world, where we both are just interacting together in a different way.  She has taken me to build-a-bear, a place where you make your own stuffed animal.  My most prized possession is a stuffed penguin.  When I squeeze it's paw, I hear Daddie Mickey saying, Daddie loves her little girl!  If I ever want or need a reminder, all I have to do is squeeze that paw and I can hear her, in her own words.  It makes my heart smile every time!
Adults age-play for a lot of different reasons, I'm sure.  For me it is a mixture of things.  It is therapeutic and healing for sure.  When the therapist I had been seeing told me that what I really needed was to be reparented, I didn't know what to think.  The thought of anyone acting like a parent toward me scared the living hell out of me.  I wasn't open to the idea, even after she explained what she meant by it.  She talked to me about what a parent should bring into a child's life and what was never brought into my own.  She spoke to me about nurturing, affection, encouragement, trust, and more.  Really all I heard at the time was myself being in a vulnerable state and I wanted no part of it.  Hell, even now very few people in my life are allowed to touch me, let alone hold me in their arms!
But, now because of some age-play, I get it.  I am receiving nurturing and affection from outside of myself.  I have always been my own parent, finding ways to encourage myself, doing what I could to make sure I was physically and emotionally safe.  In age-play, I dont have to fight so hard to keep that time safe, I can just be me, and it is fun.
I know that some age-players brat the *adults* because they are trying to get spanked.  They want the sensation of being spanked by the parent, aunt, uncle, teacher, etc.  That just hasn't been my way.  I have wanted to know that the *parent* cares enough about me to give the spanking.  I have wanted to hear the warning and wanted to be confident that if I continued what ever it was I was doing, the *parent* really was going to spank me.  I have needed that assurance that No means No and Yes means Yes.

My Disciplinarian

The phone call led to a little more communication and setting a time to get together.  Everything just fell together in a beautiful and unexpected way.  Miss Jenn of Seattle was going to step into my life in a way that no one else ever had.  I dreamed of this.  I wanted this.  I was sure I wanted it.  Then when the day did arrive, I was a bundle of nervous excitement.  Heck, I didn't know what to expect.  I mean, I knew I was going to be given a spanking.  Just all these other thoughts came soaring through my mind too.  Would I be able to let myself go and step into the role of the little girl?  And, if I did embrace that role fully, would she also treat that little me with care?  Could I trust her with that?  Looking back, I am sure my concerns were pretty normal, but I found out that I didn't have anything to worry about.  I have done a lot of role-play and age-play before.  Never before was I able to let go and dive right into being that little girl.  Not the way that I did during that time.  Miss Jenn got it all, the shy bashful little girl to begin with, quickly followed by the willful, stubborn, defiant one who had never ever had anyone discipline her before.  She and I had decided on doing a mother/daughter scene.  Tackling right off the bat my disrespect for any female authority figure, starting off with what should have been my first female authority.  It was the right choice for me.  Miss Jenn balanced so well the need for strict discipline with a heart full of care and concern.  It was perfect for what she and I were playing out.  Anyone who has gone to see Miss Jenn knows that she has no problem flipping that switch from what comes across as kind friend, to no nonsense strict disciplinarian!  Experiencing that had a tremendous impact on me.  She stayed in character and dealt firmly with a defiant, tantrum throwing little girl.  That little girl me did not want to obey her and did a lot of protesting!  Staying true to what I imagine would be a maternal authority figure in every good sense of that position, Miss Jenn dealt with every action that little me gave her!  I was told why I was going to be punished and when I complained and said that she had never done that to me before, she acknowledged that she hadn't and told me that she DID know that it was long overdue.  Every act of willfulness on my part was met with her own willfulness, and guess who won out?  Sure, wasn't the little girl me.  Miss Jenn was so in-tuned to me and what was going on in me that even the hesitations on my part, the stalling, was met with *Crie Lin, I said now.*  No yelling, just a firmness and my full name that sliced through my rebellion almost instantly.
 Miss Jenn is most definitely a Spanker!    She IS a professional disciplinarian.  I was given the longest most intense spanking of my life.  She addressed real things from my past and let me know in no uncertain terms that I would no longer be getting away with them.  She reached in and touched that little girl part of me, reassuring that little girl that things would be different from now on.  Even letting me know that even though I had been so naughty for so long and getting away with it, that did not make me a *bad* girl.  I was a good girl who received a very long overdue spanking for some very naughty things.
There is so much I could continue to say.  So much that happened in that time together.  Really though, right now I still just want to keep it to myself.  I came away from it with an incredibly sore backside and a sense of freedom that I have never experienced before.  She and I will be getting together more.  She is a disciplinarian from Seattle and now too, she is my disciplinarian!
Thank You Miss Jenn!

Spank

Spank.  Five little letters.  I would be rich if I had a dollar for every time I looked that word up in a dictionary.  Being totally caught up in that moment of reading the definition over and over.  Later, as I learned more words, my time in the dictionary would grow longer and longer as I read and dreamed.  Beat, swat, whip, spanking, paddle, smack, thrash.... as I grew, the list did.
There was no way I could share this with anyone.  I couldn't tell anyone of my pretend games and fantasies that I played out by myself.  I was sure no one else existed on earth who felt the same way!  I was a freak.  I knew I was different.  Somehow it all felt wrong.  Just looking the word spank, up in the dictionary had a sort of naughty girl feel to it.  I sure didn't want anyone to catch me doing it.   Feeling that I was doing something that should have been forbidden, I hid what I was doing.  I hid, because I couldn't stop.  The warm sensations that flowed through me as I read those words were too intoxicating.  It was comforting.  Learning a new word that somehow meant *to spank* always excited me.  I could not wait to go home and play it out in my fantasy.
I found out in my play that I just couldn't bring myself to say, bad girl.  I wasn't bad.  I was naughty.  For whatever reason, bad, always seemed so wrong.  I learned also the words that would set my heart flying in my games.  All of the words I had learned, the ones that made the deepest impact were, Do I need to give you a spanking?  Back just to the basic, I guess.  As a little girl, closing my eyes and thinking that sentence was my happy place.  If I let myself dream too long, it also became a sad place that sometimes brought unwanted tears.  Tears of longing I think.
I am not alone in this.  I know I am not the only one that grew up with feelings like this.  We each have our own twist and turns that came with us into adulthood.  Some of them we took some sandpaper to and smoothed them out.  Some of them we have worked hard to hide.  But, I believe for the most part that we are uniquely made, kinks and all.

Being a Spanko

Spanko.  It is a term used to describe a person that enjoys giving or receiving spankings in the adult world.  I am one that enjoys receiving.  There are so many different reasons why someone enjoys being spanked.  There are also so many different ways of being spanked and the reasons for being spanked can be as vast as the stars in the sky.
Even though I do have a partner that enjoys spanking me, I don't see myself as someone that has a lot of experience with it.  My partner on the other hand has had so many naughty boys and girls over her knee.  She has the experiences and absolutely loves to spank.  Like me, it is her number one kink.  I can remember in the early days with her when one night after a nice warm up, she wanted to use her large wooden paddle.  I laugh now thinking about it.  She looked at the paddle and looked at me, then just shook her head.  She said, *Crie, I will break you in half if I use this on you.*  I weighed about 90 pounds at the time.  With all seriousness she told me that I needed to gain some weight so she had something to spank!  Our spanking relationship has sure had its learning curves.  She has set my backside on fire a few times over the years, all either playful, erotic or in role-play.  She does have a heavy hand but prefers her wooden implements.  I of course, prefer her hand.  The spankings are never long and drawn out and rarely ever planned.
 Shopping with her is a hilarious nightmare of embarrassment.  She loves *pervertables*.  Things that are meant for a certain use, like a wooden spoon, but is used for spanking instead of stirring.  Spankos I think can see spanking things and the possibilities that someone from the vanilla world would never dream of.  Going through the kitchen implements in a store, lights up her eyes as I just groan because I know what is coming.  She just has to try them on me, right there in the store.  Everything from the spoons and spatulas to smaller plastic cutting boards has smacked my backside in the store.  She picks something up, tries it on her hand and says, *I wonder what this feels like?* Followed immediately by, *Crie, turn around.*
My thoughts and feelings about spanking began at a very early age.  As a 5 year old, I wanted to be spanked.  Oh, God, how I wanted to know what it felt like.  But, even more than that, I wanted to know that someone cared enough about me to spank me.  Even my pretend games were about being spanked.  The only thing was that I couldn't tell anyone about it.  So many people who enjoy being spanked or even just talking about it are restricted to their own fantasies and conversations with themselves.  Being a spanko sadly often means being hidden away too.  Dreaming, hoping, longing.  Growing into an adult, my spanking fantasies did not lessen at all.  They grew as I did.  It felt sometimes like there was an emptiness inside of me that I would never be able to fill.  I know that some people spank themselves.  I am one who has never done that.  In all honesty, I don't know why I didn't.  Thinking about it now, it may have helped some with that aching need inside of me.  I just never thought about it.  That possibility just didn't enter my mind.
I have been hand spanked.  I have felt all sorts of wooden implements.  I have never felt a strap or a belt.  I have never been caned.  We have a rubber ruler that gives quite the sting and gets my attention in a hurry.  Others I know struggle with the thought of how you can care for someone and still spank them.  Personally, I think it has more to do with people confusing it with child abuse than anything else.  Most every spanko that I know wouldn't dream of actually spanking a child.  It is about adults, consenting adults, and trust me, each side really wants it.

Thought in Poetry

Silence ripples through her muscles as she unlatches the gate.
Stepping past the thresh-hold, she seals her fate.
Demons rise, flaunting, taunting her pain.  Beasts of fire whisper her name.
Clouds of emotion shield her way, like a bed of nails where she is to lay.
Eyes wide aware and shockingly clear.
She steps past them, pushing through fear.


Frozen tulips, petals so fair
shattered in pieces as others just stare.
Iced ribbons stripped in two
shredded in parts, seen by few.
Solid ice around hearts grow
stopping time, screaming No!


Child within me....
Hear me as I say I know what you did.
Take my hand, together let's lift the lid.
I will protect you and love you still.
I promise to be here if only you will.
I am you and you are me.
It is time we both were free.


Take me in your arms and hold me tight.  Watch me closely as I meet this fight.
Laugh and cry as I joke around, gently guide me as I hear the sound.
Let it call to me and pull me near.  I know I must do this, I have no fear.