Must try harder

A little apology to loyal readers. I'm sorry I'm not here at the moment, I really am and I will try harder in the future.
But I do have a good excuse - I'm not well. A silly accident involving me, a bicycle and a dog. I won't bother you with the details, but it involved me coming off my bike and impacting with a ditch at speed.
No broken bones, but bruises, strains and scratches. And something weird with my neck, which makes sitting in front of a computer agony.
My doctor says no computer use for a week or two. SO is policing that in a really heavy kind of way, but isn't here all the time to check... For the moment then, I guess this is a dormant blog.
PS Picture from this great image blog. It's not relevant, but there's something about it that I like.

Perspective, or lack of it

I work from home. I have deadlines that I've promised to make. I have issues with self-discipline. Often I fail to deliver work on time, which is what's happening today. It's 2.25pm and the feature article expected by 5pm at the latest is only half finished - and I'm messing around on this BLOG?
So I'd say from my perspective that I should get my ass into gear. Am I right? And probably get aforesaid ass spanked red raw too. 

Maid for trouble

So much to do, so little time - and the master of the house is in a less than forgiving mood at the moment... SO's back, and sense of humour, are still a bit creaky.
It means that I have lots to do this week, lots of real work and plenty of household stuff to handle too. And not much time for life's little pleasures, like keeping this blog fresh.
As I trotted about cleaning and cooking this afternoon I enjoyed making up little maidservant fantasies that I won't bother you with now. I'm sure you can guess how my imaginary maid is encouraged to go about her duties?
PS I'll give you a clue. It was was one of the following: a) carrot or b) stick.


 

So not funny

She shifted a little off the sharp edge of the chair back, lifting her bare bottom even higher and and clenching her fists on chair's back struts. In the silence she heard the rush of her heart and, then, the whoosh of the paddle as he took a practice swing or two.
It had been rude and cruel to laugh, but at the time she'd thought it ever so funny. The way he wobbled along so gingerly, wincing at each movement like an old man twice his age. Now she could see how wrong giggling had been and waited for her punishment knowing that she deserved it.
Or it would be something like that, because SO is still incapacitated and the doctor seems concerned there might be some disc damage. Which makes me feel very guilty for making jokes about the situation when it happened.
I'm feeling guilty and very spanky, which is a dangerous combination. And, of course, SO is off work on doctor's orders and we're around one another in the house all day.
Usually that would be an opportunity to play (with the kids at school), but SO is feeling a long way from playful. So, I have scenarios running through my head that are never going to get from script stage to 'production' and I'm feeling very confused by it all.
It's not a good place to be, but I have to say that The Gods do have a sense of humour. They certainly seem to like getting me tied up in knots.

Shopping list

I know I'd probably regret saying it a moment after my little dream had come true, but I'd love to be on the end of a tawse. A proper one made of solid, heavy leather looks like an experience that's not to be forgotten.
It is definitely an item on my Bucket List. By the way, where does "bucket list" come from? I know there's a film, but did the bucket list idea exist before the movie - or did the movie just pick up on a phrase that people were already using?
Anyway, back to the tawse. If you stop by here often you'll know that Scotland's favourite disciplinary tool often features in my daydreams (and night ones too). So, you're probably thinking I should just pull myself together and buy one - but that's problematic for a number of reasons.
Years back, before we had kids, we bought what was reckoned to be tawse from a mail order supplier. It looked good, but wasn't cheap. We reckoned it would be just the thing for a little harmless teacher-puil role play.
The parcel arrived and contained - a major disappointment. Thin, light and flimsy, the "tawse" was an insult to a proud nation (Scotland, that is).
More recently I've looked at tawses online. Or is tawse the plural? But I haven't been so sure about having one around the house in case one of the kids should find it.
How to explain away something that is so clearly an instrument of corporal punishment? Hairbrushes and belts can sit around in your bedroom without raising suspicions, but a hefty great tawse is a definite giveaway.
Now, I'm thinking we should buy one but be very careful about where we put it between its "outings". Perhaps I could hollow out a book like spies do when they're hiding guns, but make the hollow tawse-shaped.
That would be pretty safe. Our kids do read, but never, ever touch something as old-fashioned as a made-from-paper book...

PS If you've bought a good tawse online I'd love to hear about where it came from. 

Sense and sensitivity

Familiarity breeds contempt. More years ago than I'm comfortable with a student (me), free from the constraints of the family home, started experimenting with spanking as play.

It was innocent stuff, the occasional smack to the rear end, but seemed at the time incredibly powerful in all sorts of ways. Not least, the fact that a hand on my bare behind seemed to burn like fire.

Lots of years later and I have to say that a hand-spanking does nothing for me now, or very little anyway. It is, I'm sorry to say, a bit boring - familiarity hasn't exactly bred contempt, but I certainly don't feel the same way about a hand-smack on the bot as I did then.

So, what's going on? Is it a brain thing - that the pain receptors have just got a bit unfazed by buttock-related CP? 

I picture it like this. In Brain Control Centre the guy in the big chair sees the red lights flashing, but just can't get excited any more. He glances up, sees a "hand on bare buttock" warning on his screen and then goes back to his coffee.

Most other pain is just as sharp as ever, but a whack on the ass isn't what it used to be. Or is it that the nerve endings in the bumcheek department aren't what they used to be.

Your taste buds steadily lose the ability to do their job as the years roll on, don't they? I need more chili sauce on my Tex-Mex than I used to, so maybe something similar is going on with my bottom; it just loses its sensitivity in the same.

But my worry is that it's about padding. That undergrad was a willowy thing, whereas today I have to admit to carrying quite a bit more weight in all departments - but especially in the seating area.

Not me, but you get the idea

I fear it's that a bigger butt just soaks up CP energy far more efficiently. So here's a thought, maybe punishments should be adjusted to suit buttock size. Could it be that the curvier ass just needs more attention than the petite one?

Room service

 

When I'm at the kitchen sink scrubbing dishes I often find my mind wandering off to construct little fantasies. Usually they're around disobedient/incompetent kitchen maids getting punished for some failing or other and feature our kitchen table, which is just right for bending over.

And that little scenario sprang to mind last night when I was watching a movie on TV called 'Keeping Mum', which starred Rowan Atkinson and Kristin Scott Thomas. No, Rowan doesn't get to spank Kristin (which would be very odd as for me he's always Mr Bean), but he does get a bit hot around the collar in a couple of scenes - he's a vicar.

Kristin feels her marriage is going a bit stale and that her Rowan isn't making the effort he should. At one stage she tells him that one of her friends has had sex with her husband in every room in the house - twice.

The film was OK, but after I'd switched off the TV it was the idea of every room in the house that stayed with me. We haven't, perhaps we should?

The problem with the idea for me is that some rooms suggest toe-tingling scenarios, but others are deeply unsexy. In our house two of the rooms are occupied by our teenaged kids, so they're an immediate 'no-no', and the hallway isn't very inspiring either.

We have played (in a spanko way) in most of the other rooms. Often in the bedroom, of course, and the bathroom too. Our little study has book-lined walls and really does make the perfect Principal's Office.

But for me the room that does it best is the kitchen. I don't know what it is, but my SQ always ratchets up a point or two in the kitchen.

I think maybe it's that feeling of doing menial service for others that connects with my inner naughty maidservant or maybe it's because the room is bristling with innocent-looking CP implements - wooden spoons, spatulas etc - and has tables and surfaces for a spankee to bend over. If I had my way the final touch would be a nice, well-worn tawse hanging on the back of the door as a constant reminder... (but I wouldn't want to alarm the in-laws)

And I think I'm not alone in my little fetish for kitchen-based CP fantasies. Spanko images and videos in domestic settings tend to features bedrooms, but I'd reckon that the kitchen is the next most popular venue.