Wicker Park

PMS

2011-12-06T00:10:00.000-08:00

Ooh yeah, so I'm probably not the only one in the world with this 'problem' but I realize that in the week that I'm PMS-ing, my skin gets so sensitive that I can barely scrub myself in the shower properly. Everything just hurts so much worse during this time. I stub my toe or bump into a chair and I almost cry. Tears literally form in my eyes. You can imagine how this might play out.

So Dakota notices this, and finds some excuse to spank me. Well, more like I banged my finger against the counter and screamed "MOTHERFUCK! I FUCKING HATE YOU!" and distracted him from his paper. So he decides that a spanking is in order. I stick my finger in his mouth and he sucks for a second, but then quickly flips me over, holding me by the waist.

He starts spanking with his hand but I'm squirming like no other and D gets annoyed.

"I'm not even spanking that hard, Suzy, stop moving around."
"I can't!" I kick my legs and try to twist away.
Now I'm starting to get annoyed because it's a hand spanking and it really shouldn't be hurting this badly, but it does. The stinging is extremely painful and D won't let up.

"Dakota! Are you punishing me?" I shriek.
"No," he says. "But you know you need to watch your mouth so this is just a reminder."
"You know you need to loosen up, so why don't you just stop it already??"

D does stop and we have a face-off.
"I know you're PMSing and everything, but don't you think you should calm down a little?"
I know my cheeks are flushed and my eyes are starting to get watery. D brushes hair away from my eyes.
"I'm not PMSing!" I scream. I totally am, and I start to cry.
Dakota wraps me in his arms and kisses my head.

After I've settled down a bit, he lets me know that next time, he's going to use a hairbrush on my overly sensitive skin and he's going to have some fun with that.

"Try me," I say.
Hehe.

Bothered

2011-12-01T13:50:00.000-08:00

So it's winding down to the last 2 weeks of school now... it's been difficult to study on a stinging bottom but fun!
We'll go to the library together with some other friends and sit on those hard wooden chairs and I'll be squirming. My friends will say to me, "SUZY, WILL YOU SIT STILL????" and I can't tell them that I CAN'T! It's not because I'm antsy about studying... it's more like my thighs and butt is still hot and stingy from a "The Thanksgiving Break is Finally Over!" celebration spanking.

Dakota and I went over to my parent's house for turkey and then to his for dessert and festivities. Both not very soundproofed places to do engage in any naughty behavior. So for an entire week there was no spanking fun, not even a swat :(

But finally, we're back at the apartment!

I forgot that I usually don't take the hairbrush paddle very well... there was lots of squirming and kicked (and smacked) legs.

Dakota, being the mean person he is, left me completely hot and bothered by the time we had to leave to go to our study group session (with 4 other people). I mean, COMPLETELY dripping wet and um... annoyed at him for having me sit there in the room like that. So in our study room, there was lots of squirming and playing footsie, in the hopes that Dakota would feel as um, "bothered" as I was.

Needless to say, we had fun when we got home :)

2011-10-25T15:35:00.000-07:00

10 strokes.

He pointed to the desk and I slowly lowered my body over, palms curled against the edge.

Dakota pulled my skirt up over my waist and smoothed a hand over my thighs, making me shiver.

“That’s ten,” he said. I could hear him tapping the cane on his hand. Once. Twice.

“Do you want me to count them?” I asked.

This was just a way for me to stall him. He knew this.

“No. Just stand still.”

And then he started.

The first three strokes landed on the middle of my ass. I was holding my breath, my leg flying up.

The fourth landed hard.

I squealed and my hand flew back to rub where I could feel a hot welt rising on the sit spot.

“Put your hand back. Now.”

“NO,” I said, continuing to rub.

Dakota pulled my arm away and I yanked away from him.

“Stop!” I said.

He yanked me up towards him. My eyes were watering as he held me sternly by the arm.

“Put your hands on the desk. If I have to tell you again, you’re going to regret it. And believe me, you don’t want to regret it.”

“FINE.” I turned away from him and rested my elbows back on the desk.

Dakota lifted my skirt.

“And drop the attitude, Suzy.”

“Okay,” I said, calming myself down a little, dropping my tone a little.

“How many was that?” he asked.

“You told me not to count. That was 5.”

A sharp stroke caught me by surprise, making me jump.

“You can say that without the smartass attitude.”

“Okay.”

“Now how many was that?”

“6.”

“And how did that feel?”

“BAD.”

Strokes seven and eight hit the back of the thighs. My elbows rose but I was still clenching the edge tightly.

“Bend down. NOW.”

I whined loudly.

Stroke nine was noticeably lighter than the others. Stroke ten took my breath away. Immediately I stood, tears almost welling over.

Dakota whipped me around gracefully by the wrist and squeezed handfuls of my ass, as I hugged my body weight into him. He rubbed.

“That was too hard, D,” I said. “Don’t ever do that again. I mean it.”

“Mmm-hmmm, be a good girl, Suzy, and you won’t get spanked.”

So Dakota learns to be harsh... or does he?

2011-09-29T21:20:00.000-07:00

Jokingly, before either of us knew that we had spanking interests, Dakota would call me "Princess" because he thought I was so obviously (and adorably, I would say) spoiled and naive. Of course, I didn't think so but all I ever did was boss him around, charm him, tease him, and sass him (of course). That got old quick, and I found myself the victim of progressively harder "playful" swats to the bottom whenever Dakota found me to be a mouthy cocktease (which I was often, pushing his buttons to see how far I could go.)

Fast forward several months later, when this happened:

We are arguing about something stupid. Like I said, I have a problem with cursing... it's a habit that refuses to be broken, even after the countless cussing-related spankings.
This time, Dakota reacts more quickly than I am used to.
"You're really pushing it," he says.
I look at him and let my mouth do the thinking. "I don't give a shit."
"You know you're getting spanked."
"Fine."
At this time, I am sitting on the couch, arms crossed, huffing and puffing. Dakota walks away from me, into the bedroom and reemerges with the heavy wooden bathbrush. Instantly, I leap from my seat and move away from him, my hands out in front of me. I keep moving, and I literally back up into a wall. That's how scared I am.
"No no no no no no no no no-" I say.
"Come over," Dakota says, gesturing with one hand.
"No- don't use that."
"Do you get to tell me that?"
"You're just going to hit me out of anger," I say carefully.
"Have I ever done that?"
"No," I admit. "But you will now."
This does not deter him from anything. He knows me too well.
"I'm not going to do that. Come here," he says firmly.
"No..." I plead with him, but there's no more wall to back up into.
This time Dakota approaches me and grabs my arm, pulling me toward him. He walks us to the couch.
"When I say come, come. Don't make me get you."
"See, you're mad," I whine as he tries to guide me over his lap. I refuse with all my strength and Dakota lets go.
"Bend over my lap."
"Dakota..."
"I'm serious. Now."
"Please," this time I plead seriously. I look down at him, and he looks up at me. Slowly, I slide myself over him, because I can see he is not wavering, no matter how sad my puppy-eyes are. I settle into him.
"Alright, now are you going to talk to me like that?"
"No. No, I won't. Please, Dakota," I say. I'm desperate. "I'm sorry."
He gives me two hard smacks, alternating cheeks.
"DON'T!" I squeal, my hand flying up behind me. He pins my wrist.
He smacks me twice again, just as hard.
"Why are you yelling at me?" he asks, calmly.
"DAKOTA."
"What?"
"You know I hate that," I whimper. "Please. Please."
"I know you don't like it."
Two hard smacks, this time on the sit spots. This time my legs kick, and I am almost in tears.
Two more smacks. I make another loud squeal.
"Are you going to watch your language?" I hear him say.
"Yes. Yes, I will. I promise."
"Alright, sit up."

For all the iron-butts out there, this is nothing, I know. But I'm a girl who flinches at flurry of spoon swats. A bathbrush is something of a monstrosity to me. Dakota and I experimented with it once and I ended up making him promise me he would never use it. Not 'only use for punishments' or 'only for really bad offenses' but just never use it. He said he would make no such promise.

After that, I sit on his lap. He kisses me and then places a hand on my chest.
"Your heart is racing, Suzy," he says.
"I was scared," I tell him.
"Did it hurt that bad?"
"Yes," I pout.
"Let me see."
I stand and pull up my skirt to let him examine me.
"It's only pink. I've done worse with my hand."
"But it hurts a lot, Dakota. You don't know. Especially when you put force into it."
"It's a punishment, isn't it?" He smiles at me as I pout. I am definitely a pouter.

Back when he didn't really know my limits, he was a little more careful with me. Whining or pouting meant he was at his own limit... because he didn't want to see me in pain. But then he got smarter. Now he pushes my limits. This time, he was absolutely in control, knowing I was afraid of the bathbrush, and yet when he saw that I was genuinely scared, he knew me well enough to stop before I passed out.

We are still learning about each other, trying to maintain a balance between being "normal" people and participating in spanking as a way of life. My normal friends say, "God, Suzy, Dakota spoils you so much. You have such a good boyfriend." What they don't know is that he spoils me for the sole purpose of spanking me. I wonder how they would feel about that.

New

2011-09-18T18:00:00.000-07:00

New to blogging...

College students, Dakota and me (Suzy)... going for the spanko route, just because it seems like the right thing to do.
Not really a domestic discipline relationship, but it's not just rough sex play either. I don't really know what I would classify us as. Definitely not vanilla.

Him, a little rough around the edges, but everlastingly patient and easygoing. Me, mostly reserved and smirky... I have trouble letting loose. Me over him lap, squirming and cussing and slapping and submitting...? I'm getting there. I still have a filthy mouth. And he's got the upperhand. Heh.