The Punishment Book

Submitting to Correction

Those of you who follow my blogging in other places (el tercer ojo and my new calligraphy blog) will know that I'm presently taking a calligraphy class studying the Gothic hand.  The mixed ability (some students have been studying calligraphy for years -- others like me are taking their first class) class meets once a week for three hours.  

Like most art classes, the teaching style is very structured. Anyone who imagines that most art courses are about creative free expression hasn't taken many.  This is even more true of calligraphy, and within calligraphy, with learning a historical hand.  While there is a vague sense other ways might exist, my instructor only wants to see one way -- the way she's teaching us.  As we're learning a medieval hand, the teacher also tends to mention life of early scribes and student scribes and their floggings.  This, of course, prompted me to do a little burst of research to discover what a "palmer" might look like (see links for the images I found).  

At the second class meeting I was delighted to discover that our homework was being collected.  When I got home, Paul was pleased for me too, especially when I told him it would be turned back marked. The following week my homework was returned, with red inked corrections, at class a week ago Monday.  Not all the comments were positive, as you can see in the included images. In fact, except for a closing "Good Work," every red mark was negative (or constructive criticism as I believe they say in the biz).  While I blushed to see my mistakes circled, it was great they weren't being glossed over with a banal "Good Effort" or the like.

Last week I was actually called out a bit in class for not having practiced more during the previous week (it was not a lack of desire, but sadly other unavoidable demands on my time). Nonetheless I felt totally abashed at her slight disappointment, but again also thrilled because she'd noticed and thought it worthy of remark. I made no excuses for my lack of practice but simply promised to do better during the two weeks we have between classes due to various holidays.

Listening & Leading (or sometimes, topping from the bottom is okay)

We were together on the bed not so long ago, doing what we do very well. Canoodling, I called it once, and Chris laughed at the word but agreed. Sometimes it is foreplay, and sometimes not. It is touching, often naked touching. Sometimes there is spanking.

It'd been about a week, because of one thing and another, and I'd sorely missed his time and attention. In addition to my own woes, I was under a work deadline (finished 2:30 this morning, yay!, waiting for feedback now). And I have a bit of a cold coupled with a nasty cough. Chris has just started another semester of graduate school and the subjects addressed in these courses promise to be of a pertinent and absorbing nature for him. He has a new toy and is busy getting iTunes behaving properly instead of me.

And, he'd been to the gym that evening.

You know, in and of itself, that's not a problem. Except his particular fitness facility is filled with college co-eds, most of whom have been worshiping at their own altars since puberty and are exceedingly conscious of how they look. Everywhere. I've seen them.

So he comes home and tweets this sentence while grilling dinner: "Saw a great pair of shorts at the gym today. Well, wasn't so much the shorts as what was in the shorts. Or rather partially in the shorts."

For some reason, it hit me the wrong way, you know? Now, I'm not a jealous person, normally, although I've had my moments, and my jealousy tends to focus on things rather than people (i.e. that video game, that volunteer opportunity that takes 40 hrs of your week outside of work, that iTouch you're playing with when I'm in the room trying to have a conversation with you, etc). And, as Chris pointed out later, I'm generally just as likely to point out that cute bum before he even notices it. Generally.

So we're canooding, and he's got me all tucked up against him.

Intending to confide, I told him that I'd been jealous about the girl whose bottom was half-displayed by her shorts, presumably intentionally.

He was honestly surprised, and why shouldn't he be? I'd normally not care a whit. But "I haven't felt very sexy lately," I reminded him, proceeding to cough up a lung into my pillow.

Chris gathered me up in his arms and muttered against my ear. "I should hairbrush you for that."

And here's why this blog entry is on Punishment Book... because if he had hairbrushed me, it wouldn't have been a nice little loving spanking with a hairbrush. No, it would have hurt. It would have felt like punishment, and he would have intended it to be painful. I don't think the momentary reaction of jealousy would have been included in why he wanted to hairbrush me then and there, but the feeling that caused the jealousy - the feeling and sense that I was undesirable - would have been what he was punishing.

He doesn't like it when I express self-doubt. I believe there is a standing rule around here that if I ever say "I'm a terrible mother" again, I'm headed straight over his lap with the ebony hairbrush, no ifs ands or buts. I know this and how he feels about my expressions of internal angst and self-loathing.

And yet, I need to be able to confide in him and tell him my fears and my hopes and my needs. If I can't confide in him and trust him to make it better, then who else is there to turn to? (Nobody, not like that, and my heart would break or ice over, and I would withdraw emotionally and probably sexually.) And if I can't confide in him and trust him with my whole heart and not just the stronger pieces of it, then are we really as strong as we believe us to be?

But, if he can't punish me for fear of breaking that trust, am I manipulating things to get my own way? And is, as he pointed out in very pertinent ways much later, my backside really his to do with as he pleases if he can't hairbrush me without risking a silly breakdown? Should I be repressing all of those feelings so that he can hurt me at will and way? Should he hurt me at will and way even if he risks those silly breakdowns, just to prove the point that he can and that he's unhappy with me?

In the end, this is yet another reason why our relationship is not a simple Top/bottom arrangement, and why Chris must be (and is) a listening leader. It's a symbiosis ... and that's probably best. He didn't spank me, but listened to the tremors in my voice when I pointed out that hairbrushing me would discourage me from, in the future, telling him when I was upset. I did suggest he arrange for a hairbrushing on a different night. I even suggested (for more selfish reasons!) that he combine it with bondage. And the moment passed without tears or recriminations or the hard spanking he wanted to give me.

This morning, I'm still confused as to why I was jealous.

But...

Thank you, Chris, for not forcing the hairbrush. And thank you, for listening when I said to please not. I don't think it would have worked out quite the way you intended - then and there in that moment, I think it would have escalated it instead of purged it as you intended - but I know you could have. And you know I wouldn't have stopped you, if you'd insisted. So thank you.

Open Door - Juggling Kids, Honesty and Disclosure in a Kinky Household

Parenting kids in a kinky household really is different. I suppose everyone experiences parenthood differently, but I think kinksters definitely have unique challenges.

Our kids have been raised in a very non traditional environment.  I don't think that will really come as a shock to anyone who knows much about our family. First, they were exposed to polyamory from their earliest memories. There was always Mommy, Daddy, and, from the time they were 4 (almost 5) someone else. I wasn't the first person either of them had in their lives seriously, either. It has always been perfectly natural for them to see multiple people loving each other and sharing affection.

They also see evidence of our dynamic. Both CC and I always called him Sir, and I still do.  When they were very small they actually thought it was his name. We also slept on the floor, each with our own beds on the ground next to Daddy's. Again, I still do this.  They've never thought of it as sleeping on the floor of course, they think, "Daddy's bed and bridget's bed."

Yet, for all this openness we've always tried to be very careful about crossing age appropriate lines. They never see or hear us play. They aren't aware of the specific sexual dynamics that exist between us. In fact, when CC was pregnant with the little guy they told me they consider all three of us to be "married" and then hastened to add, "But you and Daddy don't have sex... right?" At the time I told them they really needed to talk to Mommy and Daddy about that.

Closure

I've had this plan for a while now to write about topics other than specific punishments. There are a lot of things that float around in my head and some day I will have some spare time and be able to actually sit down and write about some of them. I was just thinking this week that I needed to make time to write a post for the PB.

From now on I am not going to allow myself to think this thought. It clearly jinxed me. I fear this will be especially long winded story telling, but the back story really does lead up to the conclusion.

My old nemesis has returned, and it's name is toilet paper. Yeah, really. Running out of TP is Master's biggest pet peeve and it's gotten me into trouble in the past. In fact, it is the only offense I can ever recall being punished for more than once. Two nights ago mark the third time I've been punished for it.

This was especially hard for me because there was a guest in attendance. Master is dating someone right now. They've been seeing each other since October.  We'll call her J. She is wonderful and I hope to see great things from this relationship. However, last night her presence worked against me because she used the last of the toilet paper in the main bathroom and there was no spare under the sink.  Her natural response was to come out and say, "I am going to steal toilet paper from the other bathroom." Master's natural response was to give me the look of death.

From now on I am not going to allow myself to think this thought. It clearly jinxed me. I fear this will be especially long winded story telling, but the back story really does lead up to the conclusion.

My old nemesis has returned, and it's name is toilet paper. Yeah, really. Running out of TP is Master's biggest pet peeve and it's gotten me into trouble in the past. In fact, it is the only offense I can ever recall being punished for more than once. Two nights ago mark the third time I've been punished for it.

This was especially hard for me because there was a guest in attendance. Master is dating someone right now. They've been seeing each other since October.  We'll call her J. She is wonderful and I hope to see great things from this relationship. However, last night her presence worked against me because she used the last of the toilet paper in the main bathroom and there was no spare under the sink.  Her natural response was to come out and say, "I am going to steal toilet paper from the other bathroom." Master's natural response was to give me the look of death.

Unresolved: Establishing Authority

I wrote this to post over at This Thing We Do Forum, and then thought that it would be a useful post for the Punishment Book as well. I also want to encourage people--especially tops, we REALLY need some tops over there--to check out the forum and join in the discussions there, if they are so inclined. It's a pretty great place, or so the people who are members keep telling me. :)

W asked me to post about this, although I admit that I can't remember all of the specifics of what she wanted me to say. So I will go with my best memory, and add some things from my own perspective, and we'll see where that gets us.

We have been struggling for a while with W establishing her authority. I am frustrated. I feel like either I'm making myself follow the rules and behave--which undermines my perception of W's authority, because I feel like I'm the one in control of what happens, and whether or not we get into fights. Or else I'm breaking the rules, and causing W to respond to my behavior--that kind of topping-from-the-bottom thing, which makes me feel like I'm still the one in control of the situation.

W, on the other hand, is frustrated because she feels like she *is* establishing her authority. From her viewpoint, either I'm following the rules, or I am breaking the rules, and she is enforcing them. And then she'll get feedback from me, usually afterward, that says, "Well, but I felt like I was the one in charge of that situation." Which, frankly, undermines her confidence in her authority.

A First Punishment…

No, it won’t be the first (nor, I think I can safely say, last) punishment, in my 4 plus years with my Master. But, it was a first time for this sort of punishment (sadly, also probably not the last), and my first time writing for The Punishment Book, which makes enough firsts to inform the title, I say!

In my last post on my blog, “New World Order,” I wrote about the new arrangement my Master and I have come to, regarding discipline and punishment and how they will fit in our lives. In it, I discuss the dubious joys of Cod Liver Oil....

Well, now I’ve had a taste of it, and let me tell you, no “spoonful of sugar” is gonna help that medicine go down!

But before I get to that, I should discuss why this sort of thing is going to be happening to me at all.

I blame Tom & Jerry. It was after seeing the cartoon “Baby Puss,” as a wee girl that I became obsessed with the idea of “Castor Oil” as a punishment. (Of course, the reason I’d paid such attention to the cartoon in the first place was that it starts with the threat of a spanking with a hairbrush! It also left me with some other interesting ideas, but that’s a post for another time!)

Uncyclopedia humorously states: “Castor Oil is one of the oldest forms of punishment for children, with use going back to the Neolithic era. Until the early 1980s parents found it almost as effective as spanking, although it has, along with lynching, suffered a downturn in recent years due to political correctness.”

Continuing in the humour, this time unintentional, The New York Times published an article called “Subsitutions” on April 4, 1884, which includes this jewel: “So great is the juvenile horror of castor-oil that all parents know that not even the threat of a severe flogging can induce a small-boy [sic] to swallow the nauseous dose ... It follows that castor-oil as a punishment in schools is far more to be dreaded than flogging, and should it be generally adopted, small-boys will everywhere petition for the restoration of the rod.” (For any spanko, it’s worth reading the whole thing!)

And from the wonderful CorPun website, we get the “Home Office internal memorandum, 14 June 1923 Knowle Hill (Kenilworth, Warwickshire) Training School for Girls Notes by Miss Wall.” After an “Outbreak Of Insubordination” (whee!):

“Miss Langley then spoke of Ethel Milton, 13-5/12, who had had 12 strokes of the tawse on the seat. She said that a few days after this Ethel started bouncing a ball in the passage and knocking it against the office door on purpose. She did not feel that Ethel had sufficiently recovered from corporal punishment on the seat for her to administer another whipping, so she said she was to have one tablespoonful of castor oil. This she refused, so she was given two, which she took.”

Discrection and Compartments

I've been lucky in many ways. For almost my entire adult life I've had the luxury of being "out" to everyone close to me. Although it wasn't by choice, my parents found out all the gory details of my relationship pretty early on. When you live in a family comprised of one man and two women, the neighbors notice. We even came out to the school. I've never held a job where it mattered one way or the other if people figured out what was going on at home. I couldn't afford to. Having an unorthodox living arrangement and having appeared in adult films come together to make things not worth hiding.

So why don't I have this same luxury now? Basically, because our wife left us.

Welcoming Zille: Changes to the PB

A quick look at the right sidebar will tell you the basics -- we've added another author to the PB -- something not done often or lightly.  This puts our number at nine, which the science (and here I use the word science quite wrongly) of numerology says represents the beginning and end of all human experience. 

Great, so no pressure on the new girl.  

Who is this new author?  

::drum roll::

It's Zille Defeu.  (Zille is pronounced as rhyming with "Jill" -- not "silly" or "file".)

Zille has her own website and blog with a lovely "about" page in case you want to get ahead of things.  She will, no doubt, be introducing herself in the coming days.  

Several of us have gotten to know her over the past year and then discovered that, of course, we have mutual friends.  In my case, I started reading Zille's Twitter feed at about the same time she started reading mine.  Tweets turned to emails and some phone calls before we met at Shadow Lane this past September and ended up talking about life, the universe and spanking.  

There's a lot I like about Zille and what she brings to the scene and 'net.  I want to go into some detail here, but keep deleting everything I put down because I don't want to force her hand in what she writes about or when she writes.  I'll stick with teasing -- there's a lot she can say here and I'm excited just thinking about her saying it.   When will be up to her.  So stay tuned.

Most importantly though, welcome Zille.  Nine is a great number and we're very glad to have you here. 

---

Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lwr/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Maintenance Fail...

I can't remember the last time I was actually punished for something. Honestly.

It's not that I'm perfect, but that I'm not spanked for being imperfect. We're all imperfect. So fouling up Chris's lunch or forgetting to get the car washed or not doing the laundry do not garner punishments. Chris gets serious if it affects the family's health, the family's safety or putting shredded paper in the canister without bagging it first. Otherwise, he's just as likely to indulge me as not.

I'm perfectly happy with that.

The thing is, discipline - punishment - has been part of my quirky head for as long as I've had it. A variety of fantasies have provided me with dream fodder for decades now, and I'm not ashamed to say that in the days that preceded a real, live disciplinary agreement, the whole notion of being punished was a lot more rosy than reality. In my dreams, I'd misbehave a lot more and get spanked a lot. In reality, I misbehave very little and get spanked a lot.

So for a few months now, I've been pondering ... and I think I have to conclude that mock punishments and maintenance ('just because') spankings are no longer enough of a substitute for discipline. And, I have to say, I'm not entirely happy about that. It doesn't seem quite right that I should be jonesing for punishment, simply to satisfy some sulky petulant corner of my brain. It doesn't seem fair to me or to Chris, and as really pushing his buttons means needlessly endangering someone or something, it really isn't fair to our home and family.

Add in 4-6 days of enforced neglect from regular reinforcing intimacy and I have been ripe for challenging Chris in the last two evenings.

So last night I took our daughter's 50-cent disk shooter off the bureau, where I'd left it after confiscating it from her, and shot it just past his head. It hit the wall behind him, but he did stop talking mid-sentence, grabbed me, and dragged me over his knee for 5 minutes of hard spanking. I remember dimly hearing the words "You're asking for it, aren't you?" I don't really remember answering.

Tonight, after he studiously and deliberately ignored my three hints that he might want to do the dishes, I took an ice cube from the freezer and put it in the back of his shirt. I'm sure I had a good reason - maybe to get him to pay attention, as he kept ignoring me. Or maybe to get him to pay attention to me? In any event, when he very clearly told me to remove it from the back of his shirt and said he'd had enough, I did remove it.

And then pushed it down his pants so it slipped between his ass cheeks.

Of course I got spanked for it, later. When the princess was asleep and the house quiet, there was a paddle and a strap. Perhaps the playfulness of it all has gotten to me too, because I didn't have to fight off any guilt. Pain, yes. Guilt, no. Not even much repentance, honestly.

I've never really been a brat. I doubt I've bratted like this since well before the princess was born. Even Chris asked me what had gotten into me. I'm worried that I'm trying yet a new way to get what I want from him on a nearly constant basis - his dedicated, focused, energized attention.

I suppose this is one of the problems of taking a fetish and turning it into a working, living relationship. There's no question that discipline helped me master the concept of locking the doors to our house, or taking care in the sun. I'm more careful about what I do with a cell phone in the car, too. There's also little question that I pursued a disciplinary arrangement with Chris because I thought it would help me prioritize his needs and desires more, and I think that it still mostly has that effect. But I can't and won't deny that I also found the whole concept of a disciplinary relationship sizzling hot. It pushes nearly every power-exchange fantasy in my head and feeds my sexuality with instantaneous arousal.

I'm afraid that spanking me 'just because' isn't a preventing sort of spanking anymore. But if it doesn't work, what will stop me from pushing again and again and again?

Starting Over ... Again

Well, the prodigal blogger has returned -- for now anyway. After getting an email about updates to the site, I felt *really* guilty about not even checking in in - what? - two years? Holy crap.

So much has changed. After four years together, Dave and I called it quits for good on June 15, 2008. It's been 16 months, and writing that sentence made me cry. So, I'm not really dealing well with it, obviously. The short-story is that he doesn't ever want to be a husband or a father, and there's nothing in the world I want more than to be a mom, so it was an impass neither of us could see over. The long story is probably much more convoluted, and something I completely blame myself for. I became a different person than the one he fell in love with, and I wasn't snapping back.

Tears at Bedtime

What Happened: I got spanked at bedtime last night.  It wasn't especially hard (a bare-bottom, over the knee hand spanking) but it included scolding (I had stayed up later than I was supposed to, even after being reminded to go to bed) and went on long enough to hurt.  Not a lot, not like a hairbrushing, but enough so I started feeling very sorry (okay, mostly for myself rather than my actions) and telling, then begging Paul to stop.  

That doesn't work.  As I was reminded, I don't get to decide, just as it wasn't for me to decide that I didn't want this spanking.  I hadn't wanted it either -- by the time he took me otk, I was tired, even over-tired, and wanted to go sleep.  Plus it was late enough and quiet enough that I thought the spanking could be heard from the street.  Our window, you see, was open because I hadn't expected this. 

Then it happened, and not for the first time. My whiny frustration at not being able to get away, at the spanking that continued and I wanted stopped, at not ever feeling like there was enough time for anything rushed together with the frustrations of the day and guilt at being scolded and for ignoring Paul, I burst into racking sobs.

Course Corrections

My Master is going to beat me.  I don't know exactly when, and I am not even 100% clear as to why. Yet, it has become clear to both of us that this is what is going to happen. We both need to clear the air.

I'm terrified. I haven't been seriously beaten in a very. long. time. 

It makes sense, our dynamic has more or less taken a backseat to the events of the last couple of years. First, Master and CC were changing and having issues and most of the focus was there. Then, they were splitting and the focus was there. It's really been at least two years since we've been focused on each other and our dynamic in any real way.

For a highly dramatic and whiny account of the unraveling of our poly family you can read backwards on my personal blog. For the purposes of this post, it's enough to know that CC has decided to go her own way, and the last year has been spent largely on this change in family status.

There are a lot of things that are different now. I am not sure we will ever be back to that "pure" Master and slave dynamic we had in years past, but it's certainly a goal of ours. Running a household and supporting each other through a painful breakup has changed things in ways neither of us would have guessed.  It put a huge amount of stress on each of us individually and on our relationship. There have been moments when I was not at all sure we were going to make it together.

Blast from the past

I've been sick in bed for the last few days, which isn't fun at the best of times, but is particularly unfun when one is pregnant at the same time.  Not only is the list of approved medications limited, it's difficult to get comfortable with a bowling ball strapped to one's middle.  But I digress.  At one point last night, I was starting to feel a little bored (always a good sign), so I dug out old journals and settled in to read.

These are journals from late college and early adulthood, maybe 7-10 years ago.  In other words, just the period of time when I was figuring out my kink and coming to terms with it.  I was surprised (and sometimes amused) to read what I wrote and thought some of it might be interesting here.

This is the first entry where I addressed the issue head on, though there are other places where I alluded to it and even (bravely!) wrote the word spank in black and white.  But this entry comes about 10 months after breaking up with my college boyfriend, the first man I ever played with.  Also, bear in mind that this was from the very early days of internet (at least for me), so I had yet to find much of a real community or have any real conversation with anyone about the subject.

What is this obsession that drives me sexually?  Where on earth did it come from?  A year ago, I might have added: why me?

I am a spankophile.  I crave dominant men who will spank me sexually, spank me when I misbehave, and love this raw, unbidden part of my soul.  I want to brat my way into trouble and know that someone is there to enforce boundaries and love me no matter what.

When I first realized that this was sexual for me, I shied away, scared of what it meant.  Later, as I began to explore it and even share it with E [college boyfriend] I was embarrassed and shy about my desire while needing it nonetheless.  Now, while I would still never share the secret with anyone but the most intimate, I embrace it.  It gives me a deep, rich, dark, silty facet, a branch of my soul and being that only two people in this whole world know about and only one understands.  E never quite got it, but for a vanilla he certainly converted pretty well.

One of the most complicated parts about my spankophilia is the lack of control.  I want to submit, yet I have to find the right person to give that gift.  Someone I trust completely, who would never abuse the gift.  At the same time, though, there are men who look at me and make my insides liquid and make me want to obey.  K is that way sometimes--I can feel sparks fly when he's around because the air is so charged.  T's eyes do that too.  They pierce me and I feel like one stern look from him could make me come on the spot.  ...

But could I honestly sleep with either one of them?  No matter how much chemistry I wonder if there wouldn't be something to hold me back.  And that's only sex.  My deepest darkest fantasy is unthinkable until much after sex.

I find it interesting to see which elements are still the same for me and which have changed.  Obviously I no longer see spanking as something that must come "much after sex."  Grin.  That would make spanking parties tricky--or perhaps just more active.  And I'm not as secretive or selective about sharing this part of my identity.  I don't flaunt it (my profession and other relationships don't quite allow for that), but I'm more open about it with vanilla friends who are safe.  And I've found that the more open I am, the more I find like-minded people.

Still, there are more similarities than differences.  Though I had yet to experience a relationship with spanking at the core, my statements of identity and desire are still very true.  I do want a dominant man to spank me sexually and spank me for punishment.  I had no idea about the complexities of incorporating punishment into a long-term relationship when I wrote that, but those words are still at the heart of my kink.

It's also interesting for me to look back at the process of my becoming who I am today.  Sometimes I forget how hard-fought each step was.  But this entry was monumental: I was acknowledging the truth to myself in ink and I was no longer ashamed of it.  I also see elements of what was to be, in terms of noticing other dominant-type men around me and acknowledging my reaction to them.  Seeds of what was to come...

Technologies of Punishment: Mija's Electronic Leash

Technologies of Punishment --isn't that a great title? I can't claim any originality since it's inspired by a CFP (that's "Call For Papers" in the larger world) for a CUNY conference titled "The Poetics of Pain: Aesthetics, Ideology, and Representation" sent to my academic self. (I blogged this startle on el tercer ojo.) But it is an appropriate title. Given that we met via the wonders of usenet, technology, for better or worse, has been involved in Paul and my relationship, discipline and punishment included, since the beginning. Although some of the technology thankfully went away when our relationship went from long-distance to living-in-the-same-house, technology remains a significant part of both of our lives.

This is not going to be a discussion of how technology can assist those in long-distance relationships at "this thing we do." While it doesn't seem so long ago that most of my punishments were done via email or phone, really it's been more than seven years since Paul moved here, give or take an interruption or two. I think that counts as several lifetimes in the word of technology. Because of that, this probably isn't the right entry for anyone looking for long-distance discipline ideas. (Natty can probably give plenty of thoughts on that subject, but rumor has it she's a bit busy at present.) That said, ever since I got a new MacBook compete with webcam, I check in terror to make sure the green camera light isn't on every time Paul has me bent over my desk chair for a quick slippering to "focus" me on my work. This is crazy because I never actually use the webcam for anything so it's never on. **

Even though phones, webcams and Skype aren't part of discipline or punishment scenes and we're not long-distance anymore, technology in various forms plays an important role in our relationship. A role, which for me, has lately made me feel watched over in ways that, frankly, push a lot of good and powerful buttons. What works, both in the senses of being effective and attractive, is feeling I'm being watched over and held to specific expectations. The idea is that I'm seen --inside and out-- by someone who can't be fooled and holds me to account. That's both the fantasy and the ideal.

Not much to ask, is it?

Right.

It's a huge amount to ask of anyone and a near impossible task, especially with regard to me specifically. Yet I have asked for it and Paul and I have tried various ways of fulfilling this need / desire. Repeatedly, over a period of years.

Love Our Lurkers IV

Beloved and community minded Bonnie, over at My Bottom Smarts gives us a chance each year to remember we're not talking to ourselves -- that you're here reading too. And we all know that for every comment to the blog, there are hundreds of visitors who don't comment. We know you're there and it's always good to know there are readers, whether you choose to comment or not.  Yet it's so much more fun to write for a blog where there's lively discussion.

I know this blog has been quiet lately. This is partly due to many of us blogging elsewhere (see the list of our other blogs over to the right). It's also due to the PB blog having become less of a place to discuss the idea of punishment in a relationships and more of a place to record actual punishments received.  (Believe it or not, that we'd record our punishments here never occurred to me when we were first building the blog.)  Since most of us aren't punished very often, there ends up being long gaps between entries. Add to that my neglect in not realizing sooner that postings here were tapering off.

And yet you're still reading here -- even when the PB goes weeks and even months without new entries, our stats tell us that hundreds of people visit every day. So this is what I want to ask of you today -- keeping in mind the style of the blog (that is, this isn't going to suddenly become a place full of pictures of spanked bottoms, lovely though they might be and that we can't write about punishments that aren't happening -- give us some thoughts about what you'd like to find when you come here. What discussions would be useful or interesting?

Thank you in advance for your ideas. And as always, thank you for reading.