I decided to try the word puzzle in the Times Sunday Magazine today. Each question gave three clues. You answer the first one, replace the letter it directs you to replace with the word suggested by the second clue, and wind up with the answer to the third clue. To quote from the directions: "For example, given the first clue 'Show the way,' and asked to replace D with 'At no time,' to get 'Wife of King Arthur,' you would answer GUI(NEVER)E. That's GUIDE, replacing the D with NEVER."
Question 5 was the following:
Struck with a switch (-E +"Like a Rolling Stone" singer)= Kids' board game.
Click "continued" for the answer.
CAN(DYLAN)D -- CANED, minus E + DYLAN = CANDYLAND
Okay, so it's not *that* funny, but it still made me smile.
31 July, 2005
30 July, 2005
Keeping both hands on the desk
I think I'm in more trouble than I expected. My darling wife is working away from home for the summer. And before she left, she suggested that we both agree not to masturbate. I've wondered about what it would be like to have a rule to follow, so I agreed. The thing is, I didn't realize how lonely I would be getting, and how much I would be craving some kind of comfort. Also, when we made the agreement, there was an implication that we'd be having phone sex, so I figured everything would be all right.
The first week was no problem: I had a horrible flu, and touching myself was the last thing on my mind. The second week was a little harder, because I was stuck in bed, and I'd watched more TV than I could stand, but I couldn't hold up a book, and there was really only one other thing to try. But I was good, and I didn't.
Then, after a bunch of different stresses, I really needed release, and since I couldn't talk to her on the phone, well, you know. I felt kind of bad, but not very bad. And I wrote her a long, steamy letter of confession (which, unfortunately, turned me on so much that I did it again.)
Cut to a week later. More stress, on top of PMS, on top of lots of other things. The fact is, what I needed to do was break down and let myself cry. But I don't do that, not unless I'm desperate. So I did the next best thing, emotional release-wise. More than once. With rapidly decreasing guilt.
The thing is, when she asked, and I admitted, on the phone tonight, she sounded really upset with me, instead of play-upset. She complained about it, because it was so unfair that I can, um, enjoy myself when I masturbate, and she can't, not on her own.
So I feel bad, because I had thought it was just a little game we were playing, not very important, not "real." And it seems like it was real. But on the other hand, I'm irritated with her, because she's acting like I've got all of this fun stuff to do, and all of these advantages from being stuck at home, in the city, with no money, and a kitchen full of bugs with no one who isn't completely squicked out by them to deal with them. Like she's deprived, working in a place with lots of cool people, meals provided, the chance to go swimming every day, and much better weather than here. Also, if she gave it more of a try, she could get some pleasure from masturbation.
I guess I'm just rationalizing. And I'm also testing, to see exactly what the punishment will be, and whether she'll actually follow through on it. I get that way--being a total brat when I feel like I need a spanking, and pushing further across that line, the longer I don't get spanked for it. So now I guess part of why I'm cranky is that if she's actually angry with me, I won't be getting a spanking. She won't spank me for anything that actually annoys her, and absolutely refuses to do so for something that makes her angry or upset.
And it just feels so unfair! I learned to masturbate not long after I started college, because I no longer had the relief of spanking myself (too noisy for a dorm). And now I often masturbate when what I really want is a spanking, and I can't have a spanking, and now I can't masturbate, either. What the heck am I supposed to do?!
The first week was no problem: I had a horrible flu, and touching myself was the last thing on my mind. The second week was a little harder, because I was stuck in bed, and I'd watched more TV than I could stand, but I couldn't hold up a book, and there was really only one other thing to try. But I was good, and I didn't.
Then, after a bunch of different stresses, I really needed release, and since I couldn't talk to her on the phone, well, you know. I felt kind of bad, but not very bad. And I wrote her a long, steamy letter of confession (which, unfortunately, turned me on so much that I did it again.)
Cut to a week later. More stress, on top of PMS, on top of lots of other things. The fact is, what I needed to do was break down and let myself cry. But I don't do that, not unless I'm desperate. So I did the next best thing, emotional release-wise. More than once. With rapidly decreasing guilt.
The thing is, when she asked, and I admitted, on the phone tonight, she sounded really upset with me, instead of play-upset. She complained about it, because it was so unfair that I can, um, enjoy myself when I masturbate, and she can't, not on her own.
So I feel bad, because I had thought it was just a little game we were playing, not very important, not "real." And it seems like it was real. But on the other hand, I'm irritated with her, because she's acting like I've got all of this fun stuff to do, and all of these advantages from being stuck at home, in the city, with no money, and a kitchen full of bugs with no one who isn't completely squicked out by them to deal with them. Like she's deprived, working in a place with lots of cool people, meals provided, the chance to go swimming every day, and much better weather than here. Also, if she gave it more of a try, she could get some pleasure from masturbation.
I guess I'm just rationalizing. And I'm also testing, to see exactly what the punishment will be, and whether she'll actually follow through on it. I get that way--being a total brat when I feel like I need a spanking, and pushing further across that line, the longer I don't get spanked for it. So now I guess part of why I'm cranky is that if she's actually angry with me, I won't be getting a spanking. She won't spank me for anything that actually annoys her, and absolutely refuses to do so for something that makes her angry or upset.
And it just feels so unfair! I learned to masturbate not long after I started college, because I no longer had the relief of spanking myself (too noisy for a dorm). And now I often masturbate when what I really want is a spanking, and I can't have a spanking, and now I can't masturbate, either. What the heck am I supposed to do?!
29 July, 2005
Story: Cause and Effect
I've been thinking about this story a lot lately. I'm on a vanilla listserve, and one of the threads has been titled "Cause and Effect." It's rather distracting, because the thread has nothing to do with the story, but the subject line startles me every time.
I posted the story on the SSS newsgroup several years ago.
Cause and Effect
===========
She prefers to look at spanking as a cause, rather than an effect. So she refuses to spank me for bratting (“You like spanking,” she points out. “Why should I reward you for doing something that bugs the crap out of me?” I can recognize her logic, but it’s a hard habit to break.)
Sometimes she surprises me. “I wonder what it would be like to watch you squirm all morning,” she muses as we get ready for a brunch party. I pause in my search for socks and look at her sitting at her desk. She is holding a light, flexible metal ruler. She raises her eyebrows. I feel myself blush deeply.
Cause.
My heart thumps. I don’t even know everyone who will be coming. Do I really want a spanked bottom in front of strangers? I decide to take a chance. I lower my jeans and lean over the side of her bed.
She comes to stand beside me, and rubs my back. Swat! The first strokes with the ruler are light, tentative. She is still learning my body, and doesn’t want to hurt me more than I want to be hurt.
“Harder?” she asks.
“Yes, please.” My bottom is beginning to feel warm.
“Should these come down?” she asks, touching the waistband of my underpants. I reach back and lower them.
The strokes fall harder on my bare flesh. I hiss, and she pauses.
“You can keep going,” I say, ask, reassure.
She lands the ruler across my bottom several more times, pauses, rubs my back. Then the ruler cracks vertically down one buttock and onto my thigh. “That left quite a mark,” she comments, and examines it. Then, “For symmetry,” she explains, and cracks the ruler down on the other thigh.
“I think that’s enough for me,” she says. She lays the ruler on the bed, and rubs my back. “Do you want to look?”
I turn and examine the redness of my bottom in the mirror. Time is getting short. I pull up my pants, find socks, and prepare to greet our friends.
Effect.
My bottom stings and tingles. I can feel every thread of my jeans, of my underpants. The doorbell rings, and she ushers in the first guests. We are still preparing, and they came early to help. I am less bossy than usual in the kitchen, and one of my friends comments on this.
My girlfriend looks knowingly at me, and pats my bottom as she passes. I squirm.
More guests arrive. She pulls me down to sit on the arm of her chair. I squirm, and hop up to pass out glasses and plates. She stands behind me, and I feel the stinging of my bottom. Every move reminds me of my connection to her. I exaggerate my squirming just enough that she will notice it, but remain subtle enough that our friends don’t comment.
After the party, we are all taking the subway together towards the city. I hop up quickly to offer my seat to a woman with shopping bags. Our friends comment on my butch courtesy. My girlfriend and I exchange knowing looks.
I posted the story on the SSS newsgroup several years ago.
Cause and Effect
===========
She prefers to look at spanking as a cause, rather than an effect. So she refuses to spank me for bratting (“You like spanking,” she points out. “Why should I reward you for doing something that bugs the crap out of me?” I can recognize her logic, but it’s a hard habit to break.)
Sometimes she surprises me. “I wonder what it would be like to watch you squirm all morning,” she muses as we get ready for a brunch party. I pause in my search for socks and look at her sitting at her desk. She is holding a light, flexible metal ruler. She raises her eyebrows. I feel myself blush deeply.
Cause.
My heart thumps. I don’t even know everyone who will be coming. Do I really want a spanked bottom in front of strangers? I decide to take a chance. I lower my jeans and lean over the side of her bed.
She comes to stand beside me, and rubs my back. Swat! The first strokes with the ruler are light, tentative. She is still learning my body, and doesn’t want to hurt me more than I want to be hurt.
“Harder?” she asks.
“Yes, please.” My bottom is beginning to feel warm.
“Should these come down?” she asks, touching the waistband of my underpants. I reach back and lower them.
The strokes fall harder on my bare flesh. I hiss, and she pauses.
“You can keep going,” I say, ask, reassure.
She lands the ruler across my bottom several more times, pauses, rubs my back. Then the ruler cracks vertically down one buttock and onto my thigh. “That left quite a mark,” she comments, and examines it. Then, “For symmetry,” she explains, and cracks the ruler down on the other thigh.
“I think that’s enough for me,” she says. She lays the ruler on the bed, and rubs my back. “Do you want to look?”
I turn and examine the redness of my bottom in the mirror. Time is getting short. I pull up my pants, find socks, and prepare to greet our friends.
Effect.
My bottom stings and tingles. I can feel every thread of my jeans, of my underpants. The doorbell rings, and she ushers in the first guests. We are still preparing, and they came early to help. I am less bossy than usual in the kitchen, and one of my friends comments on this.
My girlfriend looks knowingly at me, and pats my bottom as she passes. I squirm.
More guests arrive. She pulls me down to sit on the arm of her chair. I squirm, and hop up to pass out glasses and plates. She stands behind me, and I feel the stinging of my bottom. Every move reminds me of my connection to her. I exaggerate my squirming just enough that she will notice it, but remain subtle enough that our friends don’t comment.
After the party, we are all taking the subway together towards the city. I hop up quickly to offer my seat to a woman with shopping bags. Our friends comment on my butch courtesy. My girlfriend and I exchange knowing looks.
Getting Started
It's hard for me to start anything, these days, so I don't know why I'm adding one more thing to the pile.
People say I'm a perfectionist. My response to that is, "If I were a perfectionist, I wouldn't make mistakes." But experts say that procrastination is a major symptom of perfectionism, and I admit freely that I am a procrastinatrix extraordinaire. So instead of doing the work I need to be doing, I'm finding myself starting a blog.
And now that I've started, I'm finding myself wanting to procrastinate on this, as well. One part of me wants to have the blog--It's been a year or more since I've considered starting a blog about spanking. But then there's a lot of vulnerability, and I am NOT good with being vulnerable. But I'll be posting my thoughts, and stories I have written or will write, and who knows what else.
A little about me: I'm a married dyke (married to a woman), a graduate student, and, as I said before, a procrastinatrix extraordinaire. And probably a perfectionist, too.
I'm sure there's a lot more to say, but I'll get to it in other posts.
People say I'm a perfectionist. My response to that is, "If I were a perfectionist, I wouldn't make mistakes." But experts say that procrastination is a major symptom of perfectionism, and I admit freely that I am a procrastinatrix extraordinaire. So instead of doing the work I need to be doing, I'm finding myself starting a blog.
And now that I've started, I'm finding myself wanting to procrastinate on this, as well. One part of me wants to have the blog--It's been a year or more since I've considered starting a blog about spanking. But then there's a lot of vulnerability, and I am NOT good with being vulnerable. But I'll be posting my thoughts, and stories I have written or will write, and who knows what else.
A little about me: I'm a married dyke (married to a woman), a graduate student, and, as I said before, a procrastinatrix extraordinaire. And probably a perfectionist, too.
I'm sure there's a lot more to say, but I'll get to it in other posts.
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