Category Archive: amazing Top knowledge

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A Strict Teacher



I don’t want lots of warnings.

Warnings make me sulky and mean.

If you are going to teach me anything you had better be a down to business sort of guy.

That is why I am working very, very hard at my run on sentences.

I appear to have been granted my wish of a very strict teacher.

I wish you could see my smile.

Tomorrow- next poll post.

I am sorry. Tomorrow there will be the next poll post. Do you see how good I am?

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More Than A Spanking

I know lots of people don’t believe me when I say that I don’t like being spanked. It is true; I don’t like it at all but instead of trying to persuade you of that I will tell you about the things I like around the spanking. I hope that will make it all a bit more clear.

We all know that spanking is more than palm on bum. We know that there is a magic when it is done right. I am presuming as I write this that all the skill comes from the spanker, and I think it does. I think he has all the magic.

So I want to write about the accoutrements that make spanking what it is, the elements that transform something horrid into something wonderful.

There is the  look, that silent stare that tells me I am in trouble. That silent communication that picks me up and twirls me around. That feeling of being sixteen again and unsure of quite what to do or how much more I can get away with, all of that in a stare. It is being noticed with a black ribbon on. I love that impact and the knowledge of his intentions. It is making me wriggly just thinking about it.

And then I link the stare he gives me to the way that he watches me, that he notices what I do, and how I do, and that all of it matters to him.  I matter so much to someone that when I am a bit lacking in sensible, instead of ignoring me, someone takes me by the hand and takes me somewhere (even if that is the corner.) I love that I am loved like that. I love that I am seen.

In this picture (below)  you can see a girl who has had the stare. She is shy and embarrassed. Her hand has gone up to her face in a subconscious gesture of shame which she tries to hide by pushing back her hair. Many men who are strict will have seen this exact reaction form on the girl in front of them.

My silence is part of the gift he gives me: I am a talker. I talk and laugh, consider, ponder  and discuss. I love that he can make me silent with the knowledge of him. I love that he can make my stomach sink from three thousand miles away.

The voice that is never, ever raised is part of the magic. Shouting scares me. It intimidates me in all the wrong ways. It reminds me of people who are horrible and unkind. I love the power of his quiet, steady voice. I love how I settle down so that I can hear him. I love his voice and the way he uses it.

The forearms – any man who spanks has great forearms and they have always been my favourite part of a man. Those muscular, firm forearms speak of intentions carried out, a man of his word and a man of action. That makes me all wide eyed, but when he folds his shirt sleeves back … I do not have words for that.

The belt around his waist is a constant, knee trembling reminder of what he is to me. The way he can rest one finger on it and I have a sudden inexplicable urge to be good for at least twenty seconds. I am not quite sure why this implements wields such power over me but it does.

I love the security of being loved like this. I love the ease of communication and the being loved as though I were a flower and he has delved between every petal to know me better than anyone has ever dreamed of knowing me. I love that he learns about me, my fears, hopes, habits and mind. I love that.

The strength of him, I love that. He is strong, mentally and physically and that makes me want to lie in his arms and be kissed thoroughly and for a terribly long time.

I love that he lowers my garments. I love that he wants me disrobed, that that is his desire and that I cannot stop him. I love that he does this with a care for how and when it is done. I love that he knows what I look like draped over his knee and that he can recall this image at will.

I love the submission he makes me feel. I am transformed from a stressed, unhappy curled up woman to a playful, adored little girl who will do anything to please the one she loves.

As someone who struggles to forgive herself, I love the forgiveness this life brings me.

I love the love that runs through every moment and every interaction.

But I especially love how he wears his belt.

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From Top To Bottom


I was reading on Erica’s blog her thoughts about Tops and Bottoms, about switching and not wanting to watch male Bottoms get spanked. The discussion got a bit heated and I found that fascinating because even as I was reading what Eric wrote I found myself feeling very strongly on the subject. I was just like the few others who got a bit tense. Most people behaved well, only a couple got tetchy, and I was well behaved. But it took effort for me to do that. I went from totally calm to all tense and jumpy, and that reaction fascinates me.

We were not talking about abuse or injustice (and in fact those topics make me calm because I believe calm is the only thing that helps victims of those things) only about a variation on TTWD. So why was I so uptight?

I know we all have our own preferences and there is no reason why this aspect of our lives should be any different. I think no matter what our likes and dislikes are, when we express them some people feel hurt and judged, and that is in no way my intention here. I will write what I feel about different ways of doing TTWD and I worry that this may hurt some people but that is in no way my intention. I have worked hard to express myself here in a way that will not cause unhappiness to others. By writing this, I am trying to work out why these feelings are so strong.

I don’t understand switching. (Not the use of a switch which I think is just mean and horrid but rather the swapping from Top to bottom and back again.)  I think switching is neither right nor wrong, but a way of doing and being that I find it hard to understand. I think that may be because for me being spanked and told off is a way I live, and I need to see the Top in my life as being in charge of me. We have an intense relationship. I don’t want to think of him being spanked because that would reduce my trust in him. Is that silly? I don’t think so because I want to look up to him all the time. I don’t think he is perfect and I know he makes mistakes, but I do not want him to be accountable like I am accountable. The thought of him being told off, let alone the physical aspect of it, makes me shudder and turns me off utterly. I do not know why that is but I feel it deeply.

It does occur to me that switching is quite a natural way for a couple to be. Sometimes the husband is in the right and sometimes the wife, that is the normal pattern of things. But still I find the subject causes me stress and makes me more uptight than it should.

If my lover switched I would hate it for many reasons. I think I would feel too far below the bottom of the pile. I do not want to be a bottom’s bottom.  I feel too emotional about it. I like the linear structure of the relationship. I like the faux traditionalism, the “father knows best” aspect of it. I like that he is stronger than I am and taller. I like that he always wins; that  gives me tremendous comfort, and the idea of losing that makes me feel sad.

I can see how switching may work for people at parties. (“So I got caned by him and then I thought I would try it so I caned her.”) I also think there are people who live full time as switches and this makes them happy and relaxed, just as the way I live makes me happy and relaxed. I do not understand that for a moment. I also do not understand how light splits up into infra red and ultra violet. It goes on happening though.

I know all of this, so why does the idea of switching bring up such a strong response for me?  Part of this must be to do with empathy. I cannot help but put myself in the part. Am I expected to switch or to be topped by a switch? Of course not, but the feeling of that pressure does lead to a feeling of anxiousness.

That may be increased by the way I am within TTWD. I am still new at it and the way that TTWD manifests itself in me is that my feeling of being new, innocent (ironic, huh?) and open is increased. I love the change I feel but it means that I am very affected by new things and new ways of being. Simply my being a bottom and open to the leadership of Himself I am more affected by what I hear about others. It is part of my way of living that makes other people’s ways feel like a threat sometimes.

As for male bottoms, the thought does not float my boat at all. I find men attractive when they are in charge and assertive, and I used to struggle with the idea of men wanting to be spanked. It was only when I read this and this by  Prefectdt that I could understand it at all. I know there are lots of men in the world and that men who wish to be spanked will not all be like Prefectdt, but in my head they will, and that means I can understand and be more relaxed around them. I know if I tried to be all Toppy with Prefectdt he would tell me to get over myself. That makes things terribly easy with him, and learning that helped me to understand something about my approach to male bottoms.

I used to (wrongly) see them as wanting to be like girls in this but I do not think that is the case. They are men, still men who want to be spanked. They are still men, still a wide variation of men and not someone who expects me to see them as just like me. We can be different still. I do not know why that matters to me but it does.

Except I have met in the past some male bottoms who would bounce up to me without introduction and want to tell me all about their last spanking and what their bum looks like. I found this to be invasive, a horrid parody of what they thought was female bonding and a kind of pervy invasion. It was too much and it mean that when I wanted to be safe and relaxed I had to toughen up and assert myself. I lost my place to be calm and happy.

But reading Prefectdt (who is not like that even a little bit) has reduced that memory. I am still anxious around male bottoms but not so much.

In the same way, Our Bottoms Burn make sense to me. They switch, which I could never do, but conduct themselves with decorum everywhere that I have read them. This makes it easy to read about them and to engage with them. I feel I can still be me while they are being them.

It is some other switches and male bottoms I have encountered expect me to be part of their lifestyle choice, and for me that causes tension. I have encountered switches who expect me to relate to them as though he or she is my Top, and male bottoms who expect me to be all Toppy around them. I just can’t fulfill these roles, and that expectation makes me anxious.  I think I have the same feelings towards male Tops who try to boss me around with no relationship already established.

I think that sums it up for me. I need very much to explore the submissive part of myself in a way that makes me happy and relaxed. I choose to do this with a male Top and in an exclusive relationship. I require space from others to do this. If I read something that turns me off then that is my problem, and I should click away from the site. But if someone chooses to engage with me then he or she cannot expect me to become part of his or her dynamic unless that suits me.

I do know that if I am expected to be part of someone else’s role play I get tense and it annoys me. I like it when there are proper Toppy men around who speak to me in a proper Toppy way, and by that I mean they conduct themselves with dignity and decorum and have that manly thing going on. I do not like it if someone strolls in and starts speaking to me as though I need telling off or, even worse, down to me.

Most of us have such strong feelings on these topics. I am starting to understand what it is that pushes my buttons and why I feel so strongly. What has surprised me very much about the journey I have undertaken is how many good people there are. I was scared to start a blog because I thought not only would I have nothing to say, and also that I would lay myself open to aggressive, nasty people, but almost every person I have met has proven to be a delight, no matter what his or her chosen role.

PS: I have just been reading about that poor couple that got bashed by all the DD haters. I then, quite stupidly, went and read a bit more. I found a site where people were talking about it and read for about three minutes and it made me feel sick. Those people were convinced that any womna in this life style is an absolute victim and abused and deluded. I am trying now to forget what I read and I know I will get told off a bit for reading something that upset me. We have to be kind to one another. That’s all.

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Bare Your Bottom

As requested by Rich in a comment and Himself in real life.

Living so far away from my lover there are times when he tells me to remove my knickers.

He tells me to remove them when I am in the corner which he can see. This is a very horrid and embarrassing thing. He watches me and I tug them down and he won’t let me leave them up even a little bit.


He tells me to take them off completely if I pull them back up without asking or sometimes if I am a bit uppity. It is difficult to be uppity when someone has told you to remove your knickers. It makes one a bit shy and hesitant to be knickerless. It is not just that he knows but also that he told me to do it. That is such a personal act. It makes me a little quiet to think of it.

He tells me to remove my knickers when he tells me squirmy stories but I may die of shyness if I tell you about that.

When I am with him the baring of my bum is out of my hands, with one exception.

Most of the time he does it when I am in position. I am curved over his knee, making a sullen S shape and I am sulky, angry, sorry, bratty or one of a million other moods. He may give me two or three swats and then down they come. He may do it briskly, a business like tug which I hate. It is like he does not even care that I want my knickers up; he thinks it is all his choice. I know it is but that lack of choice makes me feel so submissive and surprised.

He may do it before I end up bent over in one way or another. I stand in front of him because that is what he tells me to do and he reaches up and pulls them down. My head hangs low when he does this. Standing before him all bare is horrible and it is almost a relief when he bends me over the bed or his lap or a table.

The exception is rare but it does happen. I will write about this event a bit more at some point but for now I just want to tell you about how it starts.

I am in trouble for a specific offence. I know just what it is that I did and what the result will be. He tells me to get the cane (I have written about this properly, and I long to tell you all now, soon, soon) and to take it to the table. He further instructs me to bend over the table and put my dress up and my knickers down. That calm, lonely moment, that shame and lack of contact, that waiting and fear – all of that may be the worst time I am told to bare my bottom.


Thank you , Richard, for requesting this subject. I was surprised to find I had a gazillion pretty pictures on this topic and I have no idea why.


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Paddles and Margaritas

The adventurers have returned. We were just like Lewis and Clark as we braved the dark Floridian waters of the river known as Blackwater.

I would like to tell you that we glided down the river, swerving gracefully around the jagged trees that stuck out of the water and using the current to guide us homewards.

Alas, that was not quite how it was. The heat was intense (I am a redhead and had to have my factor 30 on constant spray) and the river was tricky. I have just spoken with a far more experienced canoeist and she assures me that it is quite normal (even for her) to end up in the bushes at the side once or twice.

But as it went on we got a pattern and a working relationship established – a relationship that involved my listening to him and actually doing what he said. I did this simply to protect myself (I was at the front and it would be me in the spikey trees if we crashed). I would like to assure all and sundry that my brat instincts remain intact.

As we paddled and rested and paddled and rested it occured to me that canoeing really is a metaphor for how a relationship works. You work together, you listen to each other, you work with the currents and it all works out. I could write a thousand words on the intricacies of it but I think that about has it covered.

Needless to say Himself was very patient with me as I squealed and got confused about right and left -having decided we would go to the right of the obstacle and he told me we were going to the left of it I would cheerfully agree and merrily carry on as I had been doing. It is very hard to comprehend that what he said was not what I heard and what I had assumed we would be doing. He guided us superbly and kept on paddling when my arms were aching and straining.

It took us three and a half hours to do the eleven miles (which I am sure was almost doubled with all the twists and turns) and the only fellow canoeists to beat us back were two young men.

It was later as we celebrated that we allowed ourselves to smile with pride about how we had not tipped the canoe as we had seen some others do.

We went out for fajitas (super scrummy and one of us is far better at contruction than the other) and a teeny, tiny cocktail.

I would also like to relate that despite my arms being too sore to lift, someone nearby had not a hint of that kind of trouble and was horribly insistent at picking up silly, playful bits of behaviour and spank most cruelly for them. He was very unamused at my helping him by putting lotion on his thigh as he lay ready for sleep when I pootled past to brush my teeth. He was equally unamused by my biting him (such gentle nibbles) and seems unable to muster the most basic belief in the existence of pterodactyls in Florida at this time of year, which is a shame becasue they attack with great regularity.

You remember that picture of a girl cooling her bum against the fan? I have lived it now but I lack her smiling countanance.

It is hard to sleep with a burning bottom, even with lotion and kisses to soothe me. Well, after canoing eleven miles it is hard to sleep for about three minutes.

And tonight? Tonight we have some sorting out to do from our time apart. I choose to believe that means he wants to give me extra kisses for all the ones I have missed.

I will tell you about it anon.

PS- He just spell checked this for me and whilst he was doing so I reached down with little red toenails and I tugged at one of his laces and made it all undone. He looked up with one eye narrowed and said, “You will pay for that, little girl.”

What could he have meant by that, do you think? Answers on a postcard please.

We are going for lunch now. Byeeeee

xxx

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