Taking a break

I am currently on a bit of a hiatus from this blog. Travel, work, redecorating, and some upcoming writing projects are going to be taking precedence. I don't think I'm abandoning it entirely, at least not yet. Will definitely write if I get inspired. But for now, my focus is elsewhere.

Out of touch

I know it's been a while since I've written a new blog. We were away on vacation last week. I thought I'd be able to post some new material here, but only managed to write on my other blog, www.thiscatiscrazy.blogspot.com. We were in San Francisco, and I did get to top three bad boys at a dinner party our friend S. threw for us, but I haven't played since then. We also got to attend the Folsom Street Fair on Sunday, which was a blast. Now it's been real life and lots of work all week.

I'll be going out to play at Paddles NYC tomorrow night, if anyone wants to come out and say hello and maybe play. I might be up for giving someone who deserves it a good caning.

Not the way to say hello

A man I wasn't sure I knew smiled at me at Paddles the other night. He seemed appealing enough. I was on my way to go play with someone, so I didn't have time to really talk. I thought to myself, "I THINK I met him, but I'm not sure -- what's his name? I'll ask him in a little while."

Later, as I was coming back to the bar area after playing, the same guy was in the midst of a bunch of people that I was trying to get through. He came over to me and said, "Hi, Cassandra." His arm went around me in a sort of half hug, but then his arm slid down and suddenly I felt him running his hand over my butt.

I was in a good mood because of the scene I'd just done, so I was reasonably nice. I said, "What's your name again? We HAVE met, right?" He tells me, R____, and says we had met before. I say, "Okay, R____. Good talking with you -- now, BE NICE."

I simply continued past him toward the bar. I don't think he understood my message. He had just blown any chances he might have had to play with me that night. Stroking a woman's butt (or any other part of her body) is not the proper way to say hello, even if you know her well -- ESPECIALLY if you barely know her.

Stinky feet in stockings

I did a scene on Saturday with a guy from Albany visiting Paddles for the first time. He said he was into feet. It was getting near the end of the evening for me and I'd been walking around in my heels for a few hours.

"I'd love a foot massage," I told him. We went to a corner of the club where they have diner-style soft benches facing each other. We sat across from each other, he took my heels off, and he started rubbing my feet. Eventually, the feet made their way to his face. He told me he liked the smell but couldn't explain why ... hey, I can never explain why I like spanking, either. So he rubbed, licked and sucked. At one point he bit my toe, which was painful. "No biting!" I said.

He had told me he wasn't submissive. But I was still in charge, and I gave little orders along the way. "Suck this foot now," I said at one point, while I used my other foot to tease him through his pants. "Rub harder," I ordered during the foot massage. Maybe not submissive, but certainly not dominant, and certainly willing to follow directions.

The scene was only about 20 minutes, but hot. I was being slutty. As I teased him, I know I was flashing a bit, because I was facing out toward the club, my dress was riding up over my knees, and I was not being demure. I saw another sub come over and watch. I looked over at the watching sub briefly and I think he liked that.

It made me feel very sexy and powerful. I don't exactly understand WHAT turns foot fetishists on, but on the other hand, I'm enjoying being part of this fetish a lot more than I ever expected.

Insatiable sluts

Spanked my friend G. at Paddles last night. He's an insatiable bad boy (I can identify when I switch). I spanked, paddled, strapped, and caned him. I think he needed more. He always says he's sorry and then gets this smile on his face that borders suspiciously close to a smirk... then I have to get another toy out. Isn't that just asking for it?

I think next time I'll just pull his pants down and paddle him with the bath brush. Maybe I wouldn't see that little smile forming so soon, then.

There seemed to be quite a few guys getting it last night. Of course, all guys deserve it.

quickie scene

Is it wrong to spank someone because you're annoyed with him? I don't know, but one of my more satisfying scenes this weekend was a quickie. I had to deal with a tipsy young lad who was apparently bugging various women to spank him. When he approached me, in Seattle Tom's suite, I told him I was not really able to play because I was meeting others to do a scene in fifteen minutes.

He whined and pleaded. "Please; I'm leaving tonight and I really need a spanking!" There was this frat boy attitude about him, this aura of someone used to getting his
way. "I can give you a QUICK spanking," I said. "Let's go!"

I grabbed his hand and pulled him across the room to the bedroom. This was a
fairly crowded party and much of the space on the beds and chairs was already taken. There was room on the far side of one bed. But when he saw all the others playing in the room, he asked, "Can't we go to my room?"

"No," I said. I yanked him across the room to the bathroom, where I closed and locked the door. "Bend over and put your hands on the edge of that tub," I said.

"Can't I go over your knee?" he whined. I said all right, but next thing I knew he was standing half naked before me, his cock hanging out.

"Oh, no," I said. "You are NOT going to mess up my dress. Give me that towel." I let him go back over my lap after I'd draped the towel. Disgusting.

I spanked him as hard as I could (not hard enough, I'm sure). Finally I ended it by saying, "Okay, we're done. Go get dressed. I have to go."

But he just stood there touching his dick like like a five year old. "Can't I come in front of you?" he whined again. Ugh. I glared at him.

"No! If you have to, do it in the bathroom!" I pointed to the door to the toilet area and gave him a little nudge in that direction. Then I simply walked off and slammed the outer door behind me.

Yes, I gave into him when I didn't necessarily want to play. But on the other hand, it turned me on to boss him around.

Bad boys, good toys

Didn't have much time to write during Shadow Lane (we just got back earlier this morning) but here are a few shots I took.

Bad boy M. after I caned him at the Bad Boyz Breakfast


Another bad boy, D., getting the big strap (and I do mean big) from his wife W.


An evil toy -- it's a crepe turner -- that Miss Chris brought along


Also from Miss Chris, a Hawaiian toy made of wood. Looks very painful!


MY brand new toy, a stick wrapped in thick foam rubber, that I bought at the Vendors Fair. This is for good girls only. I'm keeping this one all for myself; it feels really good to get thumped with it...

I am not U

I wanted to talk about one of my pet peeves. "U" in place of "you," and other such abbreviations that started because of texting. If someone is actually texting from a cell phone where he doesn't have a full keyboard, then I'll be more understanding. Otherwise, I don't have much tolerance for it. There's no reason for it, and I find it to be the visual equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. "C" in place of "see," "Y" in place of "why," "N" in place of "and" -- oh, yeah, by the way, what's with all the people all of a sudden who think "an" is how "and" is spelled? I weep for our children's future...

I guess I'm all right, actually, with "K" in place of "okay." That one's kind of "cute." I think I get more bugged when someone's addressing ME as "U" -- ugh.

Don't get me started on internet abbreviations. Some, I guess, have become "standard" now, but "standard" seems to be a reflection of one's age and how long one has been using the internet. My sister stumped me the other day with "LYLAS." Since I've seen her wearing a "WWJD" bracelet on occasion ("What Would Jesus Do?")


I thought maybe the last three letters of LYLAS stood for "Lord and Savior." But no -- when I finally asked her she told me it stood for: "Love You Like A Sister." But... I AM her sister. I'm confused.

Guess the bottom line is, I prefer proper English when written or typed. Texting I'll tolerate on a case-by-case basis. Some abbreviations are all right. Just don't go crazy. And don't call me "U."

Vicarious living

There is a part of my that lives vicariously in the subs that I punish. I'm pretty sure I know what they are going through. I know first-hand what a rush it is to be controlled; to be ordered into position, with the threat of punishment hanging over your head if you do not obey. You're already going to be punished, but there may be a WORSE punishment...

I know the fear and maybe anger that may arise when the pain becomes too hard, the internal struggle to accept it, the knowledge that you need it and crave it, yet, once it starts, you wonder what you've gotten yourself into ... can you take it? Can your fantasies meet the reality>? Oh, yes, reality is much more scary. On the other hand, reality is so much more rewarding.

The aftermath of a good session, where you're lying panting and spent, and your disciplinarian holds you and tell you you are forgiven, is wonderful. You feel so strong, so much tougher, so much more alive. You're hurting and sore all over, but you can't wait to do it again...

Setting priorities; new play times

I don't think I've reported here yet that I've changed my play times. Except on rare occasions, I'm no longer going to be available on work nights. My work responsibilities recently increased and I really need to focus, during the week, on work.

My new hours of availability will be Fridays from 6:30 to 10:30 p.m. (I can go later occasionally), Saturdays from 1 p.m. to 11 p.m., Sundays from 1 p.m. to 5 p.m.

I had been offering a discount on my tribute on Wednesday nights at Paddles NYC. I may still make an appearance at Paddles on Wednesdays here and there, but if anyone wants to play on that night we will have to start early, 8 or 8:30 p.m. and end by 9:30 p.m. since I have a long commute home. I know the economy is tough now so I'll extend my discount to Fridays or Saturdays at Paddles. Email mscassandrapark@gmail.com for specifics or to make an appointment.

Picture from Despair.com

Goal: post more often

I'm going to make a better effort to update this blog more frequently,
so, among stories, fantasies, and real-life scene descriptions, I'm also
going to post any news or updates here, and new pictures if I have them.

Models are welcome; email me to be considered - just don't send cock pictures if you know
what's good for you. I'm talking about someone who can take a good
spanking and then pose with a reddened or otherwise marked bottom, like this:



the results of a fantastic scene this afternoon. I hope this naughty
boy got exactly what he deserved (I certainly enjoyed it - Damn, I love
to give a good caning and paddling!)

Girly stuff!

Bought FOUR new dresses at Macy's the other day. They had tons of stuff on sale, and suddenly there are lots of dresses in the style I like -- sort of reminiscent of the fifties, a narrow waist with a halter-top, flared skirt. I got a very cute black polka dot dress that's so Donna Reed, along with a red halter dress for the Saturday night banquet. It's kind of like this:

You approve?

Next, on to shoe shopping!

Shadow Lane

We're getting ready to attend the annual Shadow Lane party in Las Vegas, in less than two weeks. I'm getting pretty excited. I've got so far two appointments lined up for serious discipline sessions, and I'm scheduled to attend the Bad Boyz brunch on Sunday afternoon. If anyone reading this blog is attending, please look me up. I'm always interested in meeting cool new people. I'm also offering a special tribute rate for private sessions during the weekend; email me to find out details.

I am really looking forward to the party; work has been very busy and I need the stress relief.

Smart mouth teenager

A school fantasy

There's always one in every class, one who I sense has some innate intelligence, but who chooses instead to offer up a comment, a wise-ass remark, at every turn. Eddie lays on the charm, too, don't get me wrong, and he's generally a nice guy, but sometimes he gets sarcastic, and sometimes he's not nice to those outside his inner circle, so his charm to me is simply not enough. I get tired of hearing it.

Today we are diagramming sentences. Oh, God, I hate having to teach this. NO ONE likes this, except for a few of the very obsessive-compulsive types who need this kind of order to things, who like to know that each part of a sentence goes into one specific place. I think it comforts them. And, there's nothing wrong with maintaining an order to the world where you can.

But Eddie is not one of those types. It is a waste of time, to him. I hear him mutter -- too loudly -- to his friend Tim, one seat over: "Man, this is bullshit! What a waste of time."

I'm simply not in the mood. I was up late last night, probably didn't get enough coffee before class started, and I'm cranky. I slam the chalk hard against the blackboard and the pieces fall to the floor. I whirl around to face the class.

"Woah, Ms. Park!" Eddie says. "Chill!"

"You!" I shout. "Get up!"

"What?" he says, shocked, then glances at his friends for support.

"Melissa," I say to one of my more reliable students, "you're temporary class monitor. The rest of you just stay here." I grab my purse from under my desk.

"Yes, Ms. Park," Melissa says. She looks nervous. So do several others. It's not often I get angry.
Eddie doesn't look nervous, though. In fact, he's sort of smirking at Tim, and Tim is smirking back. Eddie hasn't moved from his stretched out position in his desk. I quickly stride over there and grab his arm.

"I think I told you to get up, young man," I say calmly, and I grab his arm and yank him out of his chair. Tim laughs. I point at him. "Keep your mouth shut, Tim, or you're next!" I bark. Looking at the class, I say, "That goes for all of you. I'm not in the mood."

"Where are we going?" Eddie says, as I lead him out of the classroom and down the hall.

"We're going to have a 'talk,'" I say. I drag him to the outside of the girls' room, and tell him to wait there. I go to check the room and make sure it's empty; it is. So I drag Eddie inside and lock the door behind us. "What are you doing?" he says.

"Shut up." I don't care if that's not what you're "supposed" to say to a student. I just said it. I'm angry. I drag him over to the sink. "I'm sick of your smart mouth, Eddie."

"I'm sorry, I just don't see the point..."

"I told you to be quiet. Were you going to talk about diagramming sentences? We're done talking about diagramming sentences. We're about to have another lesson." I take my keys and unlock a small supply cabinet that's in the corner of the room. Inside I find just what I'm looking for -- a clean bar of Ivory soap.

"Kneel on the floor there," I order, and I point to the area near the sink. Meanwhile, I start to run the water in the sink and I tear open the soap wrapper. "Has your mother ever told you what a filthy mouth you have, Eddie?" I ask sweetly. "She SHOULD have..."

"Ms. Park, listen, I'm sorry," he says. NOW he looks nervous. Good. I run the water over the soap and get it nice and wet and sloppy. "I won't say 'bullshit' anymore," he says.

"Well, I think you need a little HELP with controlling your mouth, and that's why we're here, Young Man. Open your mouth." I help him by grabbing his hair and tilting his head up. He resists, clams his mouth shut. "Uh, uh, no. It's too late, Eddie. This is what happens to smart mouthed children." I emphasize the word "children" even though Eddie is closer to 15 or 16 now. I force his mouth open and push the dripping soap bar in.

"Hold that in your mouth until I tell you you can take it out!" I bark. I'm seeing tears form in his eyes. Good. I hope I'm scaring him. Next I reach into my purse and take out my flat, oval wooden hairbrush. I show it to him. "Your mother ever use on of THESE on you?" He shakes his head. "Maybe your mother and I need to have a good long talk," I say. "Right now, I need you to get up." I help him him by pulling on his hair.

There's a little foot stool under the sink for the younger girls to stand on if they can't reach the faucet. I nudge the stool out to the center of the room. Then I undo his belt buckle, unbutton his jeans and tug his pants down. Mouth full of Ivory soap, he mumbles some unintelligible protest. I prop my left leg on the footstool and bend Eddie over. Next I peel down his shorts. More mumbled protests.

"Sorry, Eddie, but you've crossed a line. I won't have this in my classroom. You're getting what your deserve."

And then I simply spank him. Paddle him with the brush. I let him have it. Oh, it WILL do him good in the long run, but the poor boy is struggling and trying to cry out. I know, I know, it hurts, but guess what, you'll have to take it, I think.

Halfway through, I let Eddie up, tell him he can take the soap out finally, and give him a few minutes to rinse. He's sputtering and spitting the nasty taste out of his mouth, rinsing over and over. I know he'll taste it for a while. Finally I stop him.

"That's enough rinsing, young man," I say. "Let's finish your punishment so I can get back to teaching."

"Please, no more, Ms. Park. I'm sorry, really. I won't do it again."

"Oh, yes, I know you won't, Eddie. Now, come back over here." He hangs back near the sink, afraid of the brush.

"Please..."

I snap into action, simply grab him, bend him back over my propped up knee, and grip his upper body with my left arm. Now I can hear his yelps and cries as I continue the hairbrush spanking. It strikes practically every inch of his bare bottom, and I'm watching his formerly white bottom turn pink, then red. Still I keep spanking until he's sobbing and sobbing and pleading for mercy. He's also struggling to get free from the pain, but I have a good hold on him and he's forced to accept every stroke of the nasty brush.

I wonder if anyone can hear us outside the room. And I don't care.

Finally, I let him up. He's panting and crying from the pain and humiliation. "Go rinse out a little more if you need to, Young Man." He goes to the sink and gulps back water in relief, also splashes some onto his red face. I put my hand on his back while he's doing this. "I'm sorry that I had to do that, Eddie," I say, "but you brought it on yourself and gave me no choice."

Of course I had a choice. But THIS was the choice I believed I needed to make, in his case.

"You are forgiven, and nothing further will be said about this," I say, soothingly. "But let's make things clear. You WILL find yourself right back here again, and the soap will stay in longer, and the spanking will be longer and harder, if you act up again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ms. Park." He is shaking, I see. I think maybe I got through to him. I give him some time to calm down. "Get cleaned up," I say. "I'll wait outside and make sure no one else comes in. Then we'll go back to class, all right?"

"Yes, Ms. Park." I leave him at the sink, finishing getting himself dressed and cleaned up. I wait outside the door for him, hoping that my lesson has sunk in.

If not ... well, it's going to be a long school year for poor Eddie.

More about the cane, in Flynn's words

From Niki Flynn's latest blog:

The Other Side ... of the cane, that is.

... I LOVE wielding the cane. Especially on a bottom that can take it hard. ... I know exactly how it feels, so there's an intense feeling of power when I use it on another.

... I love watching the struggle for composure. Men are especially rewarding, as they try to cling to their dignity more than women do.

... Another person's submission to my will is such a gift. I know because I've been on the other side and I know what my own offering means when given to another. To someone I trust to cause me pain, to humiliate me and take me to a dark place and bring me back changed and strengthened by the experience. Empowered.

... In those moments I feel equal parts therapist, torturer and whore.

Thanks, Niki. You expressed it perfectly, how it feels, when one is a hard bottom, to turn the tables.

I DID hope to have the opportunity to thrash someone last night but, alas, it was not to be. Rad and I were both too exhausted. I'm headed to the beach this morning to try to get new inspiration.

Over my knee, now!

Tonight is OTK night at Paddles NYC, and we all know what that means -- lots of spanking action. I hope to see some of my favorite bad boys tonight. Wednesday night I was out playing and had the pleasure of spanking, strapping, and paddling two very naughty boys. I paddled J. EXTREMELY hard, with my hardwood paddle AND my bath brush, and all the incorrigible boy did was wriggle and moan. Tsk Tsk. Will have to think of a new strategy for that one -- perhaps NEXT time he misbehaves he gets the strap across the hands?

I do hope there is a pain slut out tonight who wants a good caning.
Or two pain sluts. Who says I can only do one at a time?

Toys, part II: A pain in the ass

The cane, that is. But it's such a GOOD pain, isn't it? So different than the sharp slap of a hand, the sting of a paddle. Done slowly and deliberately, with long spaces in between where a bad boy wonders when the next stroke is going to come.

Sometimes I am evil, and will make it whistle near my sub's ear to make him even more nervous. And then I'll give him the real thing, will swish the rattan down so that it lands sharply across both buttocks. I know that it sometimes feel like it's cutting into the skin.

Sometimes my victim gasps in shock, sometimes he simply yelps. Do you know how much I love those reactions?

What do you all think? Cane ... Yes? No? That's up to YOU, Ma'am?

Evil toys

Just a couple of my toys. I have been discussing an upcoming scene with a new sub, and I wanted to send him some pictures of my implements. He's never been caned and has been fantasizing about it. I hope to give him a taste of that real soon. He also told me he's been curious about the tawse. I can tell you from first-hand experience that the tawse is pretty nasty. In case anyone isn't sure, it's the tan split-ended strap right next to the bath brush -- which I just got from Bed, Bath, and Beyond -- above. The strap to the right of the tawse was found in a tack shop in Colorado, when Rad and I were on vacation last fall. We have no idea what, if any, equestrian use this strap has. But it's a very effective tool for "training" two-legged animals.

Next in the row is the "rat tail," a thin London Tanners specialty -- ALSO nasty (I wonder why I have so many evil toys in my possession?). Then there is the double strap from London Tanners, which I love. THAT'S a nice strap. Just right. Not too heavy, not too light. Easy to aim, easy to grip (women have smaller hands than men so not everything is easy to grasp). And finally, there's your standard wooden hairbrush. Nothing special; I found it at Duane Reade and the wood isn't too thick. Rad has a solid wood Fuller Brush that he sometimes uses. THAT's nasty. But I don't like to use it that much. It DOES hurt, a LOT. But it's small so it doesn't look all that dramatic when people are watching.

Cassandra

The stresses of life

I was stressed out all day yesterday, dealing with a new boss and wondering if life was going to get easier or better under her (last few months have been stressful because we've been shorthanded, now I sense I may be given more duties).

I have an appointment this evening that I'd thought about cancelling because of my mood. Instead, I'm going forward. I think it will do me good to spank someone. He needs to be punished by a strict "babysitter," I can let loose on him and get "angry." I'm bringing a hairbrush, a strap and a nice paddle.

I've felt a little out of sync with the subs in my last several sessions. I got the impression I didn't go hard enough. I spank pretty hard, but some men just need it a lot harder. Some need it lighter, however -- they're more into the humiliation or the giving over of control -- so you can't make any assumptions.

One sub felt disappointed because he was hoping for a female audience to watch him get beaten. We were playing at Paddles, so there's always the possibility of an audience, but certainly no guarantee, and unless he had collected his own audience ahead of time, there was no way I could guarantee that particular fantasy be fulfilled. Naturally, I feel disappointed, too, because I worked on him pretty hard and I was left feeling that it wasn't enough for him.

But tonight, I think I will really push my sub hard. He knows about safe words and can always use them. I will warm him up and then build up to the paddling. Yes, I think he really will get a good paddling tonight. He had a former domme who used to wash his mouth out with soap, and I'm bringing a fresh bar of soap just in case. I haven't done that to a sub yet, but maybe tonight will be the night. Can I make him cry?

Finding time and switching gears

I am busy and obsessive and a bit neurotic this week. Work's just been nuts.

Meanwhile, I’ve been hoping to talk live with a sub I’m meeting on Sunday, but I haven’t been able to work out the time to talk. I can’t talk at my desk, my lunch hour keeps shifting because of various jobs I’ve just got to get done, and beyond that, my head space is somewhere else.

I’m not a domme 24/7. My full-time job is as an editor. So I'll be focusing on proofing text one minute, then stepping away the next minute to go talk to someone about paddling? Not so easy.

Today's call went fine. I manage to make the call this afternoon, we connected, talked for a few minutes, and all is well, He seems pretty nice, and Sunday should be a lot of fun. For me, at least. Maybe not for him. He’s going to get it good.

I’ll have to find a way, though, to talk with people more easily. It really comes down to logistics as far as MAKING the calls. Privacy is not a huge issue, as long as I can go downstairs and out of the building. I work near Riverside Park, which has many benches and paths and trails so privacy is available a short walk away.

As far as shifting gears, I'm considering a quick mediation before dialing.

Angry mom or teacher

I love doing domestic or school role play. To me it's so easy to step into the role of a mother who's just found out her darling son has gotten into trouble at school. Or the teacher who has caught him smoking, or acting up in class, or drinking. Offenses that a old-fashioned authority figure would HAVE to nip in the bud quickly with some discipline, right?

It's also a good excuse to give it to the poor boy HARD. Not "I forgot to do my homework" or, "I was late for school." REAL over-the-top offenses (of course I mean the fantasy version of "real") that must be answered with REAL over-the-knee punishment.

So what's a serious offense vs. one you might still punish someone for, but not as hard? Maybe cheating on a test vs. forgetting to study for a test... cutting school vs. being late for school... bullying someone vs. standing up for oneself in a fight. Stealing... smoking... drinking... having sex with the dog. OK, just kidding about the last one (I hope I never have a sub admit to THAT!).

One man I topped said he had misbehaved by putting gum in the girls' hair at school. I found that one hard to role play, because his character was acting like he didn't understand why that was wrong. He was acting like it was no big deal, whereas in real life a kid who did that would have a lot of very angry girls after him ... yes, maybe that WAS his goal, but still... it wouldn't be someone I would LIKE very much had I encountered him in real life.

I think I like to feel, when playing, that the character I'm topping is still a likable person, even though he's done something wrong and needs learn a lesson. This type of play, however, really lets me let loose. I can yell, slap the man's face when he mouths off, grab his hair, etc. I can also spank as hard as I like, strap as hard as I like or paddle as hard as I like.

It's a very scary type of scene if you're the one getting the punishment. But that's exactly what certain boys need, over and over and over...

Good scene

I have a friend who is an insatiable spanko, a switch like me, and I got to play with him tonight. He's able to take a lot more than I usually give out, so I can go pretty hard on him. It allows me good practice time with my cane. I probably need to go a lot harder on him. I'm still not perfect with my aim, so I choke up a bit, which reduces the velocity of the swing. Still, it whistled as it swung down, so I don't think I was holding back TOO much. The lines it left were straight across. I tried to get the stroke across both cheeks, and I did pretty well.

I started with a medium thickness cane, then switched to a longer, thinner one that I knew would provide a sharper pain. Lastly, I used a crooked school cane that was even thinner. I knew this was wicked and I used it for quite a while, teasing him with light taps that changed to heavier taps, tapping that became more and more painful as the cane struck harder and harder, and finally, there were three "real" strokes in a row, whap whap whap!

This left him gasping and boy, I liked that reaction. I returned immediately to the tap, tap, tapping and built up again. I did twelve strokes this way, and wanted to give a nice little "burst" at the end, so as I tapped for the last time I informed him he would be getting ten more cane strokes -- but that they would be delivered rapidly, non stop. tap tap tap... "Are you ready?" tap tap... "Yes, Ma'am," he murmered. "All right, then ..." and I let them fly. It really gave me a rush and again, a nice reaction.

After the caning I sent him to the corner to "think about the paddling that you still have coming."
We rounded out the session with an OTK paddling with three different paddles. The house where we were playing had a Cracker Barrel paddle, which isn't real wood but is made of about half-inch particle board. It looked painful enough to me, but B. apparently LOVED the sensation. I was ready to call him "repented," but he indicated he needed more and I complied. I hate it if someone doesn't fee satisfied!

I took the paddle and whacked him all over, bursts of ten and twenty strokes at a time. I probably gave him at least fifty more (I had already delivered 50 with each of the three paddles). He was finally yelping and squirming, but I made him take just a little more... just a little more.

When we finished he seemed really, really zoned out. What a feeling! Damn, I want to do that again real soon!

A rude awakening

I opened up my email this morning to find an email from a sub (supposedly) and two pictures of his tiny cock. He wrote,

"Hi Mistress,

Do accept my apology for the delay. (I don't believe we had even emailed before)
I have attached the pictures as requested (I know I would not ask someone to send me pictures of his cock, that does NOTHING for me).

Please forgive me for its size (I don't care about the size).

Will await your comments and instructions. (I asked him to explain his rudeness ASAP, and to make an appointment with me so I could beat him).

Look forward to our 1st session. (I do too -- see above, but I doubt it will happen).

To recap -- DON'T send me pictures of your cock. Ever.

Topping as a switch

I am pretty sure that playing for years as a bottom benefits my playing as a top. At the very least, I know how implements feel and how I react to them. This doesn't mean that I'll know how EVERY bottom reacts to EVERY toy -- some bottoms I've played with can take a heavy paddling yet struggle with a belting or strapping. I'm the exact opposite when I bottom. Leather is so much nicer than wood, in my opinion.

But in a more general sense, I know it's important for MANY bottoms to be pushed, to be made to take more than they think they can take. It's not about the sensation of pain (although pain is definitely important), it's about giving over control and letting someone else MAKE you take the pain.

To me, the whole idea of playing Mom or Babysitter or Teacher to a "Young Man" is so the adult in front of me can shift into a frame of mind where he believes he has no right to complain about what's happening to him. It's not always necessary to do a role play, however. Sometimes it's simply accepting that I'm in charge. Or I'll snap a collar onto a sub at the beginning of the scene, which can also provide that feeling of helplessness.

I've heard some people say things like "Every good top should switch to get an idea of what he/she is dishing out." I don't think that's necessarily true. If you don't register pain as anything but pain, and if you remain in control, you aren't really getting the full effect of what a bottom is going through. Also, toys carry emotional meaning. One toy may generate more FEAR than another toy -- like a wooden spoon, almost exclusively something a mom would grab, vs. a wooden paddle, a teacher's method of correction.

My wish, your command

I sometimes think I have a lot of nerve telling someone else what to do. But since that's what a lot of subs are looking for, I'm certainly willing to find something for them to do that also pleases me.

I like administering pain. I like it especially when a bottom reacts. (Stoics are hard to read; it's difficult to see when you're approaching a limit). Saturday night I got to cane a sub, H., whom I've played with before. It was a pretty good scene. I had him lying on a padded leather "bondage bed" (we were at Paddles). He was not bound but was just in position to accept his punishment.

I first spanked H. with my hand, then a leather paddle, then a nasty hardwood paddle. While this was going on, I told him I was going to cane him soon. I went through the other toys slowly, giving ten or twenty strokes at a time, pausing for a minute or so, then the next ten or twenty. I was watching H.'s reactions to see whether I was reaching any kind of limit. He was making noise, yelping a bit, but he wasn't thrashing around or trying to get up, so it didn't appear we were near a limit. I kept going.

When I got to the cane, I played the same game -- ten or twenty strokes at a time, but very slowly. I counted thirty or sixty seconds in between. Then I got a little mean and tapped his bottom with the cane in between (having felt this technique as a bottom, it can be nerve-wracking -- it's a lot of fast, initially light taps that gradually get harder and more painful, until a "real" stroke finally lands). I didn't particularly care if it was nerve-wracking -- I just felt like doing it to H.

I felt like getting a foot rub. When we were done playing, when I believed H. had received enough caning, I finished him off with a brisk hand spanking, and then let him cool down. I asked him, and he readily agreed, to massage my feet. I figured that was my reward for working so hard. He pulled over a chair and I lay my feet in his lap, leaned back, and let him "please me."

H. is pretty strong, from playing racquetball a few times a week, so he was able to do a great job kneading the balls of my feet, my heels, my calves, the toes. Not all subs know how to give a foot massage -- some don't go hard enough, or they think all they have to do it rub you lightly then suck your toes. But H. was good. He knew what parts needed attention, and was thorough.

That's an easy task. I figure I'll get more adventurous in the future. Next time we're at the club, maybe I'll ask a sub to go buy me a "present" to beat him with.

Bad boy gets caught

I'll call him "Robert." Robert likes to fantasize that he is a young teenage boy with a crush on his next-door neighbor, Mrs. W. When Robert and I play, I become Mrs. W. Some of his misdeeds include going through Mrs. W.'s lingerie drawer while he's house sitting for her, and actually trying on her panties, and then her bathing suit, and jerking off thinking about her.

Because Robert is careless and doesn't cover up his crime very well, she discovers what he's done. She also catches him watching her in her pool, from his second floor bedroom window -- one hand on binoculars, the other hand out of sight, down his pants, most likely.

Mrs. W. gets out of the pool, wearing her new one-piece bathing suit that she'd purchased to replace the other one she'd found soiled and, in her eyes, ruined. Looking up at the second floor window, she crooks her finger and beckons him to come down to the pool area. Startled by his discovery, Robert jumps back from the window. She smiles to herself, wondering if he has the nerve to come do as he's told -- or if she'll have to punish him at a later time. One way or another, sooner or later, he WILL be punished.

But he is obedient and soon her pool gate opens and he enters her yard, sheepishly, hardly daring to look at her. "Let's go inside into the air conditioning, Robert," she says. "I have things I need to discuss with you that I wouldn't want our other neighbors to hear -- and I don't think you'd want your mother to hear, either -- would you?" He blushes, puts his head down,mutters "No, Mrs. W."

"Let's go, young man."

Inside her house, she begins to lecture him sternly, chastising him, telling him his behavior has been despicable and he needs to be taught a good lesson. She says he needs a good, hard, bare-bottomed spanking. He jumps at the words. "No, Mrs. W. I promise, I won't do it again," he protests.

"Would you rather I tell your mother? And recommend that SHE paddle you?"

He whispers, embarrassed, "No, Mrs. W."

"Then let's get this unpleasantness over with, shall we?" She wastes no time pulling out a low stool from the wall. Grabbing his wrist, she yanks him over toward it. She stands him in front of her and unbuttons his pants, lowers them. "Step out," she commands. Next, his drawers are lowered to his knees. "Oh, god," he whispers. She responds: "It's time, Robert. Get over my knee, now!"

And the spanking begins. She uses her hand, hard, as hard as she can, for several minutes. Robert is kicking and yelping, crying out that he's sorry and he won't do it again. "I know you won't, dear," she says, "but you're being punished, and we've barely started." Mrs. W. makes him get up for a few minutes and stand in the corner, while she lectures him about her clothing that he ruined. She shows him the old bathing suit, which she says he will have to pay for out of his paper route money, OR pay over over time with a weekly spanking all summer long.

She then grabs his ear and pulls him yelping from the corner, back to the stool where she throws him back over her knee. She spanks him with a large wooden hairbrush now, which makes him sob and kick even harder. She does not stop spanking until she has given him one hundred strokes with the hairbrush. His bottom has turned very red.

Standing Robert in front of her again, Mrs. W. says that he is a child, out of control. She says in order for him to learn better self-control, she's going to embarrass him by making him wear plastic pants like a baby would, like a toddler would. "No, Mrs. W. Please..." She picks up the hairbrush again and whacks his behind with it a few times, very hard. "Okay! Okay!" he yells. He puts on the plastic pants, and finds himself right back over her lap, staring at the floor again. She continues the hairbrush spanking, covering every inch of his bottom.

"I still don't think you've learned your lesson," she says, pausing the spanking. When the next stroke lands, he yells, "Yes, I have! Ow! I have!"

"I'm not satisfied," she says. "Stand up and face the corner again. I think I'm going to have to make SURE you remember this." She picks up a bottle of baby oil, pours some onto her hands, then goes over and rubs the oil all over his bottom so that it is shiny and red from the spanking he's already gotten. She can feel him shivering, a bundle of nerves. She knows he wants to be good -- but he's got to try harder.

Mrs. W. tugs Robert's arm, pulls him out of the corner, and back to the stool. laying him across her knee once more, she rubs in a tiny bit more baby oil to make sure everything is covered. And then she lifts her arm and resumes the spanking, this time MUCH more painful.

"You're getting spanked just like the little child you've been acting like," she says. "Just like a little boy who hasn't learned to control himself." She picks up the hairbrush again, tightens her grip on his waist, and says, "Well, now you're going to learn. I hope you can't sit comfortably for a week!" And she begins to paddle his bare bottom, not letting him loose no matter how much he kicks his legs, sobs, and promises he'll be good. The brush strokes just keep coming and he has no choice but to take them...

Love the pain sluts

I played with a man on Friday night who was a stoic. Just about anything I dished out, he took -- with a smile. At two points during our scene, he did tell me that the implement I was using was getting to be too much. The first time he said this, I stopped using that implement. The second time, I didn't let him off so easily. I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I think you need to take five more, slave -- don't you agree?" (He wanted to be referred to as "slave"; he called me "owner" -- not something I would CHOOSE to be called, but doesn't bother me.) It was an enjoyable session, because I could go hard and do whatever I wanted.

There's another type of bottom I enjoy playing with, which is the male brat. These are the ones who can take it hard, yet still let me know when it hurts while continuing to brat so I know I can go harder and longer. I love this give and take. He pushes, I push back.

I like to hear a sub yell, cry, maybe scream. If he gets too loud, I can always gag him with his own undershorts or perhaps with my panties, shoved into his mouth. A piece of duct tape holding it in is a nice extra touch. Always looks good on a sub. Or a silk scarf across the mouth, tied at the back of the head.

There's a point where I can see the bottom is having difficulty taking my punishment, and that's when I like to push just a little bit more. I like to lean over and tell him, "We are NOT finished," "You have NOT learned your lesson yet, Young Man," "You need to accept this," or simply, "Just TAKE IT!"

Most of the time, that is exactly what he wanted to hear. I always aim to please...

Need to belt someone tonight

I hope to see some naughty boys at the party I'm attending tonight, because I have the urge to take my belt and use it on someone. Just a plain old worn black belt that I can wrap easily around my fist before I make that bad boy bend over...

And a paddling might be nice, too.