Belt…yuck!


So I got to meet up with Daddy the last week!  Yay!  It was great to see him.  But I had some atonements to make and Daddy followed through on his promises and after a brief shopping trip for a couple of blushy items AND some new bubble blowers and a pretty sundress covered in pineapples and….I digress.  We took a little drive deep into the country.  It was actually a long drive, it’s so hard to find a little pocket of nowhere nowadays.  Daddy likes to spank me out in the open because it makes me fidget and blush like crazy.  But, my paranoid nature has me listening for cars and it can distract me from the business at hand.  Daddy has ways of keeping his little one distracted during the drive if you know what I mean nudge nudge wink wink say no more.  So we finally found out little piece of solitude and Daddy wasted no time in baring my bottom and having me start thinking of what I had done (or didn’t do) and what was to come as he set things up.  My sin as I have mentioned being my time management (missed journal posts) and lack of communication.  Basically Daddy is pretty understanding, he realizes life gets busy and I may not always get time to post, but all he asks is I communicate and tell him I am busy and don’t have time to post or may be late.  I have a tendency to feel bad and do the ostrich head in the sand method and hope he doesn’t notice.  So the spanking was more for my lack of open communication.  So when Daddy finished setting up we had a little chat then he promptly and completely spanked my bottom with his hand and two implements. The nasty hairbrush followed by the belt.  I was a blubbering mess after the hairbrush, the belt felt like fire and for a couple of strokes that hit those sensitive sweet spots I actually thought I would spontaneously combust and actually die.  In no way would I ever mistake the belt as an item for play.  There is nothing fun or playful about it.  And the residual effect?  This little girl was sitting gingerly or days after.  I promised to do better and communicate more and to solve world hunger and a number of other things.  Then it was over.  I survived and Daddy gave me cuddles and kisses and motioned up my abused and welted bottom and proceeded to make his little one feel better in his wicked Daddy ways.  But boy will I remember to avoid the belt and remember this rule.

Gulp…


So it sounds like I do get to see Daddy later this week.  Yay!  I have to remember the yay part cause I am excited to see him.  But he has given me some stuff to think and dread about ’cause…well my bottom has a bit of a reckoning to face.  When faced with the opportunity to report any demerits as it were, I was a good little girl and was up front with Daddy, my poor bottom has paid the price for NOT being forthright, Daddy always seems to known anyway and then it’s very hard to sit for a while.  So I admitted that my schedule got busy and I wasn’t always the most punctual with my weekly journal entries.  Problem with that little revelation…it’s a repeat offence.  That is never good news for my bottom.  Despite that it seems to be my hardest rule to keep and Daddy’s take is that the last reminder just wasn’t memorable enough.  So he has given me the information that I have a very nasty session with the belt (I absolutely hate the belt, nothing fun or playful about it).  And I get to spend the preamble before his visit stewing over my I upcoming punishment.  Stew and worry then stew some more.  I know Daddy’s right and I know I want to be held accountable,  I just wish that I hadn’t earned myself a punishment every time we meet.  Sigh, maybe if we could get together more often I’d be able to stay out of trouble during the in between and we could spend more time with the funishment type spanking.  I have to admit I look forward to a red bottom when we meet just not a tanned hide.  What is this poor little Spanko to do?

Fingers crossed!

So….I have really been feeling the long distance in the long distance relationship Daddy and I share lately.  Busy schedules, missed opportunities to meet, and hurried and harried messaging to fill in the long blanks in between.  My logical big gets it, my ‘little’ is pretty darn pouty. Little doubts creep in like is Daddy just getting bored, are our schedules ever gonna sync, you know where the mind can wander.  For my part, I fall into the old habit of clamming up.  So I of course haven’t really expressed my insecurities to Daddy.  I don’t want to be a bother.  I think my biggest problem at the moment is lack of tangible Daddy.  I can be a lot more natural and spontaneous when I meet with Daddy in the flesh.  Well it looks like it might finally be happening in the next coming week or so.  I have fingers and toes and everything else that can crossed crossed!  I know I will probably spend some time over Daddy’s knee getting my bottom paddled.  But I think I am gonna talk him into buying his little girl ice cream after. Daddy has also mentioned that my little bummy hole may need some Daddy attention, I can’t wait to show him my progress with my training.  I have been extra diligent since I found out about his upcoming visit. Fingers crossed!!!!!!

I am a wriggler


I identify with this picture. When Daddy spanks me it is almost always a guarantee that I will spend some time OTK.  It is very much instinctual that within a few smacks that I start kicking and wriggling and bucking.  I grab Daddy’s leg and try to push myself up or pull myself off.  I really don’t know how Daddy can concentrate because I definitely make myself a moving target. 

I hab a code.

I am all stuffed up.  Worst case is o am getting a head cold which thankfully rarely get but effectively turn me into a very miserable little ‘little’.  Best case it’s all the allergens that have been released into the atmosphere after the snow melt messing with my system.  Welcome spring!  Wake me when it’s summer.

How my brain connects dots


So today I went to yoga after work.  Itwas a hot yoga called yin.  90 mins of assuming maybe 5 yoga strenuous yoga poses and holding them for a mind numbingly long length of time.  Not my favourite type of yoga, my brain is too busy and I just sit in the pose thinking I want to move!  Is it time to move!  Had she forgotten about us? I need to move!  Or in the more difficult poses. Ow! Ow! Ow! Owie! Ow.  But it is really good for the flexibility and so I for the second time a decided to grumble through it.  

So here I am in a dim, hot and quiet room trying to focus on my breath as I hold one pose while looking forward to and dreading the next transition.  Then she directs us into the bleeding heart pose.  And my blushes start as she instructs us into the proper positioning and I find myself in a slightly extreme version of what Daddy would call position two.  On my knees, chest dropped to the ground, back arched and my bottom  in the air.  For once I was grateful for the dim lighting as my blush exploded on my face.  Now I am in position my brain has taken a sharp turn into the naughty and I am stuck there feeling decidedly exposed for what seemed like forever.  I had to bite back nervous giggles as my brain starting matching other poses with Daddy’s naughty ones as the instructor calmly walked around the room pausing by one of us periodically. Needless to say I was not focused on my breath this class.