Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Our Shadow Lane Report, Part 2

Traditionally, Craig and I plan one “special” scene when we are going to Shadow Lane. When we first started playing together, this would have involved intricate negotiation, usually to try something new or different or push a particular limit. For this party, I had written Craig a story that inspired the scene he planned. Below you can read the story I wrote (on my side) and the scene as it took place on Craig’s side.

I’m sure you’ll notice significant differences, but the reason we’ve decided to share both is to show an example of how our “story negotiation” can work. I don’t like to write a SCRIPT for a scene. Instead, I like to write a story that gives Craig a glimpse of the headspace where my fantasies are at currently or to inspire a potential scene.

Our Scene (as told by Craig) A Little Story (as written by Lizzie)
Sunday, after breakfast, we enjoyed a littles scene. Lizzie dressed up quite pretty in braids, a black and white dress, frilly socks and shiny black leather shoes. I set her up in the living room with a sticker activity book and went to the bedroom to get organized. After a bit I called sternly for Lizzie to join me in the bedroom. She had purchased a copy of Cassandra's book, My First Spanking, an anthology, the day before and I used it as a prop for our scene.

"I found this under your bed when I was cleaning your messy room, young lady!" I scolded. "You read spanking stories?" Sheepishly Lizzie replied she had. "And it does it make you tingly down here?" I pointed between her legs. "Yes, Daddy." And so it began.

First, I took her across my knee to punish her for being such a naughty girl. I pulled out of hiding a leather nanny paddle, followed by Lizzie's (loved and dreaded) hair brush. After she was near tears and her bottom sufficiently reddened, I marched her into the bathroom and told her she was going to have to have an enema to "clean her out." She looked embarrassed and horrified.

I made a point of taking my time going through all the preparations getting the enema kit ready, then hung the bag and hose in the shower and then bent her over the bathtub and spanked her again. Then I grabbed her by the wrist to lead her into the shower.

I filled her with water, ordering her to keep it in, then marched her back to the bathroom where I spanked her again and then stood her in front of the mirror. I stood behind her and pressed myself against her bottom, then reached around and fingered her shaved pussy.

"Do those stories make you feel like this?" I growled, furiously rubbing her clit. "Yes, Daddy! Please stop!" I did not stop. I asked her why she wanted me to stop if it felt good. "I don't...I don't want to leak!" she said, clenching her cheeks together. "If you leak, you'll leak on my pants and then you will be in some rather serious trouble!" She cried and whimpered until she came, then I allowed her to go into the water closet to relieve herself.
“I don’t want to!”

He stared at her for a long moment. She was sitting on the floor, refusing, of all things, to make them drinks. She rolled over onto her stomach and hid her face in her arms. As negotiated tantrums go, this one was certainly a bit odd. But it was enough that he caught on.

He reached down and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet. Without a word, he marched into their bedroom and deposited her on the bed.

“The only reasonable explanation for my baby girl acting like this is that she’s sick,” he mused aloud, rummaging in the bedside drawer for the thermometer.

She wailed and hid her face again, burying it in the pillow. He ignored her and pulled down her pajama shorts. She squirmed to get away from him, but he held her in place with an arm around her hips.

“No, daddy!”

“You don’t get to tell me no, young lady. Hold still now.”

She stopped struggling against him, but she still wiggled when the thermometer slid into her bottom. He simply spread her cheeks in response, exposing the area to his gaze and causing her to settle right now. She pushed her face further into the pillow, embarrassed by this exposure.

“Perfectly normal,” he announced after a minute, “Which means someone needs a serious attitude adjustment.”

He lifted her hips, pulling her into an all fours position. “Scoot closer to the edge of the bed, little one. And turn so your feet are off the bed.”

She made a little sound of disagreement, but she did as she was told, adjusting so that her bottom was lifted and positioned as if begging for his attention.

“So smooth and white,” he said, stroking her bottom, “But not for long. Don’t you worry.”

She moaned and slipped her thumb into her mouth.
I stood there, arms crossed, watching her. She hid her face, embarrassed, as she released her water. When she was sufficiently empty I spanked her once more, then returned her to the shower and filled her again, spanked her again, then had her release in the toilet before spanking her again.

At last, she was shaking and in tears, so I put a plug into her bottom and bent her over the bathtub one last time, dropping my pants. "That little tingly pussy is mine," I said, ramming my cock into her and thrusting, feeling the bulb of the plug against my cock. A few minutes later I came hard, gently cleaned her up with a warm wash rag and, leaving the plug in her bottom, had her lie on the bed where I put a pair of pull-ups diapers on her.

I tucked her into bed, kissing her gently and telling her she was a good girl and that she was now forgiven for reading that "horrible smut." Lizzie took a short nap then.

After, we decided to head home a day early. I had been gone on business overseas for 10 days, had spent a night at home before leaving for Vegas and I really wanted to just get home and relax. Not to mention, the bumper-to-bumper drive from Vegas to LA on Monday from the holiday weekend was sure to be even worse because of construction on the Cajon Pass.

We arrived at home late evening Sunday night and relaxed with a pizza, thrilled to be home after having an amazing weekend with good friends at the very party we first met.

It's amazing some six and a half years later how much has changed, how far we've gone and how we still have a wonderful set of genuine friends that mean so much to us. Thank you all for being so great and being a part of our lives.
“We’ll start with a good, solid, paddling.”

She kicked her feet, but he ignored her as we went about getting out the paddle he wanted to use. He returned to her side, taking up the long, smooth, wooden paddle.

“Fifty of these. I want you to count them.” He ordered as he wrapped one arm loosely around her waist and tapped the paddle against her bottom with his other hand.

He swung the paddle hard. This wasn’t a warm up. He wanted to push her quickly into the scene, emphasizing her helplessness. And he wanted to challenge her with keeping the position.

She counted each swat carefully, grunting and moaning at each impact. After a dozen swats, she let the momentum push her out of position and she flopped onto the bed.

“Young lady! Get back up here.” He growled, waiting impatiently for her to push herself back up into position. He set the paddle against her bottom, “You can start the count over.”

“No, please daddy!”

He gave her bottom a swat. When she said nothing, he prompted, “Don’t you want that one to count?”

“One,” she forced the word out.

At thirty-eight, he paused and rubbed her bottom for a moment. “You know we’d be done now, right? If you’d been a good girl and stayed in position?”

She could only nod, tears already streaking her face.

“But you didn’t, did you?”

“No, daddy.”

He gave her bottom a squeeze, eliciting a squeal from her. “Hurts, does it?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Not nearly as much as it will before I’m finished with you, little one.”

She moaned and bit her thumb. His hand slid from her bottom to her back. “Okay. You stay in position and I’ll count. Don’t make me start over again!”

With each swat her bottom trembled, clenching and unclenching as she struggled to deal with the pain inflicted by the paddle. Her bottom was past red, having gone white in the areas of the heaviest impact. He knew there would be bruises tomorrow, but she would feel those bruises already.

With the last swat, he let her flop onto the bed for a few minutes while he gathered what he needed from the kitchen. But all too soon, he returned and urged her to her feet.

“Do you know what happens to naughty little girls?”

“They get spanked?” she asked, her voice still a little shaky from the paddling she had already gotten.

“That’s only the tip of the iceberg, little one. You’re getting a full attitude adjustment tonight.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her through the hall to the bathroom. There, he pushed her to face the wall and urged her down onto her knees.

“Hands behind your head,” he ordered, “And your nose against the wall. Be glad I haven’t given you a nickel to hold in place.”

He returned to the bedroom to get the enema kit. He settled into the routine of preparing to give her an enema, only glancing occasionally in the mirror to see her still in place on her knees behind him. He folded a towel and spread it on the floor. He pulled the stool from her vanity and set it in place beside the towel. Only when everything was ready did he return to her. She was shaking just a bit, with nerves or the after effects of the harsh paddling he had already given her.

“Come over here now, little one. I want you in the same position, but on the towel.”

She knelt on the towel, giving him a curious look over her shoulder.

“No, the position you were in on the bed.”

She sniffled and leaned forward onto her forearms. “Do you have to, Daddy?”

“Hush now, little one. You’re going to take all this water and get all the naughtiness right out of you.”

After two enemas, he gave her extra time to sit and let the water out while he cleaned up the enema kit.

“Get it all out,” he growled at her, knowing how futile the command was even as he gave it. “You’re not going to want to start over too many times on this next part.”

She watched him prepare a ginger plug with some horror, as “this next part” became apparent. He also retrieved his favorite cane, balancing it on the side of the bathtub.

“Let me clean you up, little one.”

Hesitantly, she bent over and let him use a wipe on her bottom. She’d already done the same, of course, but he carefully spread her cheeks and made sure the area was clean. She protested with a quiet, “But daddy!”

He ignored her complaints and bent her over the side of the bath tub. He slid the ginger plug into place, ignoring her whimpers at this intrusion. He picked up the cane.

Once everything was in place, he quietly explained the rules. Fifty strokes with the cane, which she would count. Once again, the count would restart if she got out of position or asked to use the toilet.

This made for a harsh, lengthy scene. As he expected, she had to request a couple breaks as the last of the water made its demand. Each time, he removed the ginger and shaved it slightly to expose a fresh layer for maximum burn. Each time, he insisted on cleaning her, exposing her clenching bottom hole to his inspection. By the time she made it to fifty, her bottom was a mass of welts covering the bruises from the earlier paddling. To say she was contrite would be an understatement.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Our Shadow Lane Report, Part 1

We missed Shadow Lane last year, but we were able to make it back for this year's festivities.

This year, Shadow Lane organizers decided to change up the party, charge less for entry and eliminate any formal events/dinners other than suite parties and suite-based vendor offerings, etc. So we had our suite at the hotel but didn't do much in terms of organized activities, though we rarely do regardless.

For us, Shadow Lane has been about socializing with good friends and getting alone time to enjoy some intense scenes. This party wasn't much different.

I arrived from business in the Middle East back to Los Angeles on the Thursday before Labor Day Weekend. This is typically the start of the party in Vegas, but I was in no condition to land, go home and pack, then drive four + hours to Vegas. So we decided to sleep in our own bed Thursday night then head out to Vegas Friday.

We arrived late Friday afternoon and instantly made plans to have dinner with our friends Michael & Kate, Glenn and Lori and others. That was a lovely way to start the weekend. I was exhausted and jetlagged (a terrible way to start the weekend!) so we went back to the hotel, hung out at a suite party of Lizzie's friend Merlin and after she played we returned to our suite to chat. Before too long it was 1 am and I was literally falling asleep in my chair.

Of course, because of the jetlag, I awoke at 6 am wide-eyed. Terrible. We shared a suite with SpankCake, so Lizzie and I were quiet in getting up and heading to breakfast because we didn't want to wake her (or her friend who was borrowing the other bed in her room for temporarily). We ran out and got supplies because SpankCake had arranged a wedding reception for our spanko friends.
I don’t feel like I can say much about Shadow Lane’s new format, because we did very much what we always do - we caught up with friends, went out to eat with various groups of friends, visited friends in their own suites, and had our usual “date night”. I won’t recount all of that, because Craig has done a very nice job of that on his side of the blog. This year, we had the added bonus of hosting a wedding reception.

Actually, we have SpankCake to thank for the reception - she did all the work and made it a truly special occasion. She took care of invitations and all of the planning. She even brought all the decorations from L.A. to Vegas and transformed our suite into a purple dream, complete with candelabras, table cloths, and floating candles. She made so many decorations that I overheard a few of our guests ask if she did party-planning for a living! (She totally could - she’s simply amazing!)

She ordered a wonderful cake, too. But the best part: she made a cake topper of me over Craig’s knee, with my skirt raised and my bottom red, just how I love to be!

It was a special and wonderful event for us. Craig and I met six and a half years ago, at the St. Patrick’s Day Shadow Lane, so the party holds a special place in our heart. We were joined by a number of friends, mostly those we met in our first year in the spanking scene. It was fun to celebrate once more with friends who hadn’t been able to make it to our wedding.

Many of our friends shared stories of their first memories of meeting Craig and I, or other memorable stories from parties over the years.
Six and a half years earlier, Lizzie and I met for the first time at the March Shadow Lane party (the last one they organized). Many of our good friends in the lifestyle we met at that Shadow Lane or subsequent parties that same year (Florida Moonshine, Boardwalk Badness Weekend). With SpankCake's generous organizational skills and Martha Stewart-like prowess, we soon had a dozen friends attending our little soirée.

Michael & Kate, Glenn & Lori, Erica & John, Brad, Cody & Nisha, Katy-Lynn & R, Rad & Sandy, Indy, SpankCake and Lizzie and I filled the living room in our suite, surrounded by amazing decorations made and transported to Vegas by SpankCake. The purple motif, Lizzie's favorite color, made the party perfect. But the icing on the cake (literally!) was the beautiful purple and white cake SpankCake arranged to have made and delivered to our hotel, the pièce de résistance being the custom cake topper of Lizzie and I that SpankCake had crafted herself. Incredible!

I gave a little speech thanking everyone for coming and for being important to both of us in each way. They were there when we met, when we became play partners, when we eventually fell in love and when we made our partnership official and Lizzie moved in with me. We wanted them to be a part of sharing our marriage celebration, too.

It was truly a wonderful event and I just gotta thank SpankCake once again for pulling off a really special afternoon.
It was so fun to hear those stories. We’ve made so many wonderful memories with friends that we’ve met in the spanking community. These friends will always hold a special place in my heart.

Those memories were also a bit of a contrast to something else I heard frequently during the rest of the party. Several people mentioned to me that they were glad to see us back “from our break from the scene.” It’s the oddest thing to me. I didn’t realize we had taken a break from the scene, even the spanking scene.

It’s true that we missed Shadow Lane last year. If I remember correctly, we were moving Craig’s youngest son to college that weekend. We’ve missed other spanking parties as well, due to conflicts in schedule or other travel plans. Craig and I have taken advantage of our “empty nest” and traveled together whenever possible. And, of course, I went back to school. The fashion program I’m enrolled in is intensively hands-on, allowing little room for missed classes. But I never saw those circumstances as “taking a break from the scene.”

But perhaps I can see how it might look that way to others. At least with regard to the spanking scene. I doubt anyone would think we had taken a break from the wider kink scene, considering the number of local events we attend and the activities we participate in.

Whatever you’d like to call the missed parties, it was nice to be back at Shadow Lane. It was great to spend time with friends and catch up, as it always is.
Afterward, Lizzie and I rushed to change to head out on a "date." When Shadow Lane was a more organized affair, Saturday night was a theme dinner and because of Lizzie's food allergies there would be literally nothing she could eat, so we would always go out to dinner. I love traditions, so we ended up at an amazing steakhouse in the MGM Grand, followed by going to see Cirque's . Always a hell of a show, but once again, because of the jetlag, I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Somewhere amidst all that, Lizzie and I managed a spanking and a scene in there.

We got back and dropped onto the bed, utterly exhausted.
And I must include a special thanks to SpankCake for making the weekend such a special occasion. The decorations were amazing. The cake topper can’t be topped (check out the close up). And the gathering of friends was incredibly special and wonderful for all of us.

I don’t know what the next year will bring - travel, Craig’s work, and my classes will undoubtedly take up much of our time. But I hope we will find the time to catch our friends at events through the year.

Thursday, September 3, 2015

"Treasure" Chest

We've had scenes before where we dug into the storage chest. This is the chest of the less-than-favorite implements—the wayward ones, the ones too big for my rolling bag, the ones we don't like or use, and the ones we plan on getting rid of at a kinky rummage sale some day.

I had planned for a rather intense scene on the weekend, something where I could push Lizzie a bit. We were leaving the next day on a flight out of the country and I know how much she relishes and cherishes it when her bottom is so sore and she can't get out of the seated situation. So...you can imagine where my head was at.

I placed Lizzie on the bed and opened the chest. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Opening the treasure chest!" The chest is divided into three layers of stacking storage boxes, so I began with the top layer which held mostly wood paddles, rubbery paddles and rods and other assorted implements.

The scene began typically enough...I warmed her bottom with my hand, then moved on to the implements, which I'd pull out two or three at a time. The top layer alone featured some 15 implements or so, each used on Lizzie a few dozen times before moving on.

"Now I know why these implements are in the chest," Lizzie muttered at one point. One particular implement—I don't even know what it's called it's so odd—is really hard to handle and control and thus I found it wrapping into her naughty bits more than once. I tossed it aside in frustration. "This is no 'treasure' chest," Lizzie announced.
Craig told me we were going to do a “Treasure Chest” scene. Knowing that he referred to the cedar chest in our bedroom that organizes a variety of toys, I joked that perhaps he meant a “Pleasure Chest” scene. I couldn’t have been further from the mark.

When I moved out to California, I outfitted the cedar chest with plastic bins to organize our toys. Under the six bins, two lengths of wood keep the bins above a long space for our longer toys - such as canes and floggers. In theory, the bins organize our toys into different groups. But in practice, I'm not sure what's going on in there.

But even now that we are empty nesters, the reality is that we still have a majority of our heavy scenes when we’re out at play parties. So Craig’s preferred set of implements is stored in his travel bag - a big roll-along bag that we take to parties. That means the chest is a collection of forgotten and all but discarded toys.

Craig started the scene by restraining my wrists and ankles with rope to our bed. This didn’t last the entire scene. Early on, the stress of the position was too much for my previous injured shoulder. He released hand when I told him of the problem. A bit later, the adjusted position started to put a ton of pressure on my other elbow, so he did away with the restraints entirely. Unfortunately, we didn’t manage to take any pictures while I was restrained.
But the scene moved onto the second layer, which, lucky for Lizzie, is mostly restraints, ropes and other things not so easily applied to back or leg or bottom. So layer two went rather quickly. Layer three is a long compartment along the bottom of the chest and is where all the auxiliary, ancillary and unloved canes have gone.

I took to smacking, whacking and all around caning Lizzie's red, marked (and bleeding!) bottom. But Lizzie wasn't having it. It was too much. And it wasn't that the whacking was too much, it was more the odd outcast implements were too much. There's a reason why many of those implements are in the chest. I thought it would be sadistic to torture her with them.

And it was.

But it was time to stop. I tossed the ragtag lexan, bent wood and rubber canes aside and held a weeping Lizzie in my arms, letting her know that she was a good girl, that she was very brave and that she had taken a lot of 'punishment' at my desire to open up that dreadful "treasure" chest.

Next time—which will be soon at Shadow Lane—I'll return to the rolling bag of favorite, beloved and gently worn implements that make us both very, very happy.
I can’t remember all the complaints I have about the implements in that chest. But I can assure you that it is neither a “Treasure” Chest nor a “Pleasure” Chest at this point. It’s not that the implements themselves are necessarily bad. I think it’s a matter of how we typically play and the things we like to do. Most of these items don’t fit with that.

Although I disliked the implements used, it was still a great scene. Craig struck the right balance of intensity, torture, and consideration. And, of course, it did make our international flight the next day so much more fun!

Even so, I'm really looking forward to our trip to Shadowlane with the traveling bag of toys that we enjoy. I know we will have plenty of opportunities to play. And I know we will have left all of these non-preferred toys at home!

But the scene did remind me that we really need to go through our toys. Maybe I can convince Craig to sit down and reorganize everything soon. We can do a give-away for our readers or something. Help a girl out - help me convince him? :)