Friday Fiction: Little Miss Matched

"Your socks don't match," he said when he walked into the bedroom.

She looked up from her iPhone at him, tapping something to pause her game before she responded: "No, they don't."

"Come here," he ordered.

She stood up, looking bemused. He simply glared at her socks as she made her way across the room.

"You bought them for me," she offered, "At that store at Disney, remember? Little Miss Matched?"

"Certainly not! Why would I buy socks that don't match?"

"But," she shook her head, stomping one stockinged foot on the ground, "You did buy them!"

"Young lady," he growled. Without further discussion, he grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the bed. He bent her over the side and flipped her skirt up over her back. He gave her bottom several hard smacks.

She stood still, more confused by this assault than concerned. Finally, she said, "You're spanking me because my socks don't match?"

"No," he said, continuing to smack her bottom, "I'm spanking you because I want to spank you. Your socks are a convenient excuse."

My Journey: BOLD 2014

This jumps ahead a bit in the story of my journey in the lifestyle, but I'm going to share something I wrote about the upcoming event, BOLD 2014. This is cross-posted (with a few edits) from FetLife.

I’ve run the gamut in my exploration of lifestyle and kink – I’ve attended local and national spanking parties, I’ve explored swinging parties and visited swinger’s resorts, I enjoy my local dungeon and I’ve tried leather events like Thunder in the Mountains.

But if I had to limit myself to only one conference this year, that one would be BOLD.

Because, I identify as MDHL. No – I’m not male, I’m not dominant, and I’m not, even primarily, heterosexual.

But MDHL is my primary relationship. MDHL defines my family-of-choice. (MDH describes my family of blood, in all positive ways, for whatever that’s worth.) MDHL is my lifestyle. And some version of poly / MDHL is my fantasy for the future.

And at BOLD, I found an acceptance of all of those things that is absent in the other places I’ve looked. You can read about last year here . At BOLD, I found new friends struggling with the very issues that bother me the most. I learned new strategies for problems I hadn’t recognized yet. I discovered an energy and an acceptance I hadn’t found anyplace else.

And that’s why I am looking forward to BOLD this year.

If you'd like more information about BOLD, you can find BOLD on Facebook or the BOLD website.

Flash Fiction: Happy Valentine's Day

"Happy Valentine's," he began as he walked into the bathroom. The sight of her naked in the tub stopped him cold.

Upon seeing him, she sat up so quickly that water splashed in every direction. He took two steps to the side of the tub. He further unsettled the splashing water, grabbing her by the ear and pulling her to her feet.

"You are supposed to be ready to go," he growled.

Her eyes flicked nervously to the clock, "Um, well. You've still got to change, right?"

He stared at her for a long moment without saying a word. His gaze traveled from her hair, pinned untidily to the top of her head for her bath, down her body, still dripping with water.

"Turn around. Put your hands on the wall," he ordered as he walked into his closet. He grabbed the cane that hung just inside the door, always ready for just this sort of occasion.

He struck without a word, the cane leaving a bright red welt across her bottom. He continued, the silence broken only by the quiet moans that escaped her lips and the whip of the cane through the air. When he finished, he set the cane aside and picked up the towel she had folded on the side of the tub. He wrapped the towel around her and helped her out of the tub into a hug.

"Are we gonna be late?" she asked quietly, looking up at him carefully.

He kissed her forehead and gave her bottom a squeeze, "I allowed extra time. I know you. Now get ready!"

My Journey: Elementary School Years

I've decided to start by telling, or re-telling, my journey into the world of kink. This will be a series of posts.

I don't remember a time when I wasn't fascinated by spanking. My parents didn't spank. I grew up in a very rural area, so I was never exposed to neighborhood children being spanked. By the time I was a child, the politically correct movement had removed spanking from the television shows, movies, and most books I was exposed to. But I was a insatiable reader and I managed to find references to spanking in a number of children's books.

There are two spanking scenes in the Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The first of these - Laura's strapping after a fight with her sister over chores - is my most vivid childhood memory of spanking. Not because of the scene, mind you. I've looked back at it; I had a vivid imagination to go with my literary appetite. No. At some point in elementary school, we had to memorize and recite a poem in class. Having done that, I wondered what else I could memorize and recite. My first attempt consisted of two pages from Little House in the Big Woods, including that scene. (I found the text of the book online. The passage I memorized is about 1,200 words long.)

Thrilled with my new-found ability, I handed the book to my mother and recited two pages word perfect. I'll never forget the look on her face. My mother was an elementary school teacher turned stay-at-home mom with five children. She supported our reading addictions and demanded our academic success. She had a Masters Degree in English. And she had absolutely no idea what to say when her youngest daughter recited a lengthy "spanking scene" from a children's book.

Having gotten the hint that something was unusual about my interest, I turned to more circumspect investigations. I remember looking up every synonym of spanking in the big dictionary on a stand in the school library. And I fell in love with historical fiction, for that possibility that a spanking might be included or even just suggested.

But there was never enough to satisfy my fascination. I would imagine spanking scenes for bratty children in the books I read. I played out those scenes with my dolls. I even bribed my little brother into spanking me (he barely tapped me) and into letting me spank him (neither of us enjoyed that). As I got older, I would write spanking stories and those missing spanking scenes. Quite often, I would write a story that included a spanking without writing the spanking, terrified someone might find out my secret. But it would be years until anyone did - in a series of unusual ways.

A New Plan

I haven't forgotten this blog - but I've been rather fully distracted of late. Moving to California has been an enormous adjustment, but I feel like things are starting to settle down a bit (maybe, fingers crossed). Craig and I post weekly on Black & Blue, and I've decided a schedule here would help. So I've come up with a new plan.

I'm going to make it a priority to post twice weekly. On Monday, an essay about a spanking topic. On Friday, a spanking story from a picture in Craig's collection. It isn't a New Year's Resolution, but it is a goal.

I'm going to update my blog list as well. I hope to have enough time to find a few new blogs as well.

Pilates "Scene"

I've fallen in love with Pilates recently. I enjoy it even more than yoga - it's more active, more difficult, and provides more of a challenge. But my last class took that to a new level.

Midway through class, we settled on the floor to do a "side-series" - this is usually a series of leg lifts that leave the class pretty well exhausted. But for this class, the teacher had even more devilish plans.

She announced that we were doing "hundreds" - sets of one hundred small movements. All I could think of was Craig's favored "hundreds scene"...and as we worked through the first series, I knew the experience was going to be similar. When Craig does a hundreds scene, the first hundred is always the most difficult. Because as the pain really builds up in the first spot he's smacking, I know it's going to start again on the other side. Just the same, the first hundred circles with the right leg had me dreading the next hundred circles with the left leg.

When we finally finished the awful "hundreds," the teacher said we were going to do a different sort of leg lift. We laid on our sides with our knees bent. First we did a normal leg lift, with the knee still bent. With the leg in the air, we rotated our leg so the foot was higher than the knee. Maintaining this position, we did another set of leg lifts. There is a muscle down the side of the buttock...oh my goodness. But to make this even better, another girl in my class started smacking her own butt as we did this (if you've ever seen runners smack their legs, I can only imagine she was trying to do something similar). Whatever the reason, though, this girl was giving herself a spanking in my Pilates class.

After stretching that leg (because this was a seriously painful move for everyone in the class), we rolled over to the other side. As the teacher was directing us into position again, a man in my class shouted, "You really are a masochist, aren't you!?!"

Yes, my teacher is a masochist. I think that's why I love her class so much.

It's Love Our Lurkers day! Started by Bonnie seven years ago, this is a day dedicated to the lurkers on our blogs. I may not post on my blog as regularly as I'd like (I'm trying to do better...), yet you keep coming back to read my kinky fiction, view my pictures, and read my scene stories. So for that, those of you who don't comment (and those who do), thank you! Today kinky bloggers acknowledge the readership and traffic of our lurkers.

If you've read my blog and enjoyed it, I encourage you to post a comment. Join the discussion. Take this opportunity to meet other readers. One of the greatest things I found in the scene is the friendship and understanding of other kinksters. Even if our kinks don't align perfectly, the companionship and discussion with fellow kinksters is unmatched in the vanilla community.

As Erica says, it need not be an epic posting. It can be a simple hello; a post dictated by your comfort level. I hope you'll find here, as I have, a number of new friends.