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…In Which aisha Gets a Spanking

9 Dec

i’m back ~ the other aisha ~here i am!

{waves – not the princess wave, just a friendly little wave…}

Of course as i write this, the ring on my leather cuffs hits my computer, making a delightful sound.  That’s certainly centering.  In its own special way.

Last night, we were supposed to have friends over for dinner, but they had to cancel, not quite at the last minute, but close enough that we’d already done some of the prep work.  So we went ahead with our plans for a lovely meal with half the food.

Earlier in the day, i had asked Sir if He’d spank me that night, whispering it in His ear, and He said yes.  Then He added, “But I might make you ask for it.”

 i said ok, but apparently i was still sounding over-eager, because He said, “Well, I might make you beg for it.”  

That slowed me for a second, but then i thought, “Ok, sure, i can do that.”

So when that moment comes, when i’m bent over the bed, ass exposed, and He says, “Ask me,” it’s not too hard.  Well, actually it took me a couple of tries to get it right ~ “Spank me, please, Sir,” were apparently the magic words.

But once was not enough.  “Beg,” He says.  “I want to hear you beg.”

Face down in the bed, this is not that hard a task.  “Please, Sir, Please spank me, please.”  

“That’s not very convincing,” He says.

“Please, Sir, please, please.  Please spank me.”

It takes me a couple of more tries before i sound adequately persuasive, but i’m rewarded with a serious ass whipping.

Um, “serious ass whipping,” but i still don’t think He left marks.  Let’s be clear.  An experience that makes me squirm and whimper and moan  probably doesn’t register very high on the “beating” scale.  And i am a big baby about it, i’m not quiet and i don’t hold very still.

i know.  That probably makes me a less-than-perfect submissive.  But Sir doesn’t seem to mind.

He does tie my hands together, attaching them to a rope that’s attached to the tether on the other side of the bed.  That’s for my own safety, He says.  For my own protection.  

So i don’t put my hands behind me and end up with a broken thumb.  Yikes!  Thank you Sir.

So there’s the paddle and the bamboo canes and this new piece of red oak He bought which is about as wide as a yardstick, but heavier, and the strip of wood that’s not red oak that He got with TIFKA, they all hurt a lot, and sometimes He uses His hands, but not for very long, and then He’s rooting around in the toys, trying to decide what else to use, i pipe up and say, “The flogger!  We haven’t used the flogger in a long time, Sir.”

Ah, the flogger.

Have i mentioned how much i love the flogger?

He uses it all over me, on my back and legs and thighs, and it’s lovely.

Then He goes back to the paddles and canes and serious implements of ass beating.  


Then there are orgasms, and after the first one, everything else hurts a lot less.  The paddle is still pounding, but i’ve quit resisting, it’s all “yes, Sir, may i have another,” head space for me.

Paddle, canes, flogger, red oak stick, paddle, flogger, hands, canes...  At last, i’m lying in a puddle of happy.   Or maybe i am a big puddle of happy.  Hard to say.


Thank you, Sir.


But in fairness to the universe, i have to say, i got my balance back sometime yesterday afternoon.  i was driving back from the grocery and all of a sudden, there it was.

Probably because i quit looking for it.  Or because i wrote about it?  Who knows.  i’m just glad to be back.

aisha Gets Pouty

12 Jul

All day yesterday, i was excited at the prospect of kinky times ahead.   i was doing productive things all day, but underneath was a simmer of excitement.

At the end of the day, home before Sir, i start cleaning up, getting ready for His arrival. i’m getting ready to put on my favorite shirt with buttons, when i feel a rush of uncertainty.

Why am i getting all tarted up for Him?  He hasn’t told me to.  He hasn’t told me to in a long time.  

No, i just assume this is what He wants.  He didn’t text me during the day or anything.  He didn’t tell me to “wear buttons.”  Why am i doing all this?

What if He comes home tired and isn’t even interested?  What if He meant we wouldn’t have time for dinner because we’re going to work on our digital picture display?  

What if He doesn’t want to be my Sir anymore?  What if we’re just going to have a vanilla relationship from now on?

As the thoughts flash through my mind, each one is more convincing than the one before it.   In no time, i’m almost certain that Sir doesn’t want to be my Dom, much less my Master.

i feel bereft.  i sigh.

Ok, i still care about Him.  We’ll work it out.  i’ll deal with it somehow.

And then, instead of putting on the black shirt with the buttons over the cute panties and bra i’d changed into, i just put on regular clothes.  And go to tidy the kitchen and empty the dishwasher. 

i feel pouty.  What am i supposed to do?  Just assume He wants me to wear that shirt?  He never gives me instructions anymore.  He never tells me what to do.  Why did i even get cleaned up?

Pout, pout, pout.  

i know i’m pouty.  i think seriously about running over here and doing a blog post on how pouty i feel.  i think about what youall would say to me.  i think  you would be sympathetic, and would point out that i need to talk to Him about it.

Fortunately, i don’t stop to blog, and i am just emptying the dishwasher when He comes home.

We hug, for a long time, as we do.  i am almost ok for a minute, but then i remember that we aren’t going to have a kinky relationship anymore and i’m sad.

i go back to emptying the dishwasher.

He looks at me a little strangely, but just says, “When you finish that,  you can fix me some coffee.”  

i say, “i’ll do it now,” but before i can close the dishwasher, He steps up behind me and grabs my breast, begins twisting the nipple.

i don’t respond as i usually do.  i kind of just stand there.  Inside, i’m still thinking how sad it is that we aren’t going to have a D/s relationship anymore.

He says, “I’m interrupting what you’re doing?” in mild tones.

i say, “No,” and then i realize i have to tell Him how i feel and what i’m thinking, and i don’t want to, but it’s like youall are watching me, waiting for me to do the right thing.  

{Did i invite youall to come eavesdrop on my life?  O, wait, yeah, i guess i did!} 

It’s soooo hard, the words don’t want to come out, but i manage to say, “i’m just in a weird head space.”

He says, “What kind of weird head space?  What happened?”

i say, “No, nothing happened, it’s just, it’s just, i feel weird, it’s stupid, i don’t know why i feel like this…”

He says, “Fix us both some coffee and we’ll sit down and talk about it.”

So i fix His coffee, and mine, which is more of a process than you might think, and when i’ve finished, He says “Put your coffee right here,” pointing to a spot on the table, “And you sit right here,” tapping his thigh, “on my lap.”

So i do, i sit on His lap, and He says, “Now tell me.”

And so i tell Him about coming home and starting to get ready, and i only get as far as “i was getting ready to change clothes, but…” when He interrupts me ~

“But you didn’t know what you were supposed to wear.  ‘Cause no one told you.”

And He wraps His arms around me, and i nod.  i’m thinking that sounds ridiculous, but He doesn’t seem to think so.

He gets it.

And i say, “Well.  You know.  i don’t have rules.  Or routines.  Or anything,” still a little pouty.

He takes over then, gently, seamlessly, but certainly.

The next thing i know, i’m wearing one of His dress shirts, a white one.   You know the kind, cotton, button-down collar, and the sleeves are so long i have to roll them three times.  It feels good, a little stiff and starch-y against my skin.

He takes me to the basement.  

Our basement is full of stuff at the moment, but there’s a clear space in the middle, and He’s put His coffee table there.  It’s covered with a towel.

There’s a towel, doubled over on the floor next to it.

This is not looking good for me.  Or maybe it is looking good, depending on how you look at it.

“Kneel,” He says.  “Mmmhmmm.  Bend over the table.  Yes.  Just like that.”

And He starts easy.  With His hand.  A gentle warm up.

Then a not so gentle warm up.  And i’m squirming and squealing a little.  And He says something ~

omg, i can’t even remember what He says, but it strikes me funny, and i start giggling.  All bent over the table, panties around my knees and i’m giggling.

“Laughing?” He says.  “You think this is funny?’

“No ~ no, i don’t,” i say, but i can’t quit giggling.

And then there’s a cane.

“Maybe this will help you stop laughing,” He says, as it swooshes across my ass.

“Omigod, i’m sure it will!” i say ~ but it doesn’t.  i’m still giggling.

And He strikes a couple of more times, but i can’t stop, i know it’s ridiculous and not even in my best interest, but the giggles win out.  

So He puts the cane down.  “Maybe this will stop all that giggling,” He says.  

i can hear Him doing something behind me, but i don’t know what, til i feel something cold and sticky ~ O ~ it’s lube, o yikes ~ 

and suddenly there’s lots of penetration, all kinds of penetration, and i’m not laughing.  Not at all.

i’m making a whole different kind of noise.  

And He’s laughing.

Once He’s quite sure i’m through giggling, the canes return, and have the intended effect.

Later, much later, we talk about the D/s aspect of our relationship.  He says He’s pleased that i was able to tell Him what i was feeling.  He says He’s been giving me some time to concentrate on the changes in my life, especially the grand baby, but it’s time to change that.

He says that in the next week or two, we’ll establish some goals for me.  A personal development goal and a sexual ~ D/s sexual ~ goal, that He’ll help me work toward.  

He says He’ll give me plenty of rules and structure.

Being the contrary creature that i can be, i’m a little nervous about that now.   After all, i don’t really need rules, do i?  i’m a good girl, i am…


26 Apr

i have been anxious lately, and it tends to annoy me.  Apparently, i expect myself not to feel anxious.  Ever.

Which is kind of stupid, because i know better than that.

And i should know better than to call myself stupid.  That’s ridiculous.


And when my head is fairly well twisted up on itself, that’s the best time for a spanking.

Standing at the foot of the bed, He says, “Pull your panties down to about here,” indicating with the cane, tapping lightly on the back of my thighs, where He wants them.

It is the single cane tonight.

And there are quizzes involved.  Questions about salad dressing and how to spell things and what He said was going to happen.  

i answer some of the questions right, and some of them wrong.

When i get them wrong, the cane lands on my ass with that sharp whistle and sting that makes me gasp.  When i get them right, the cane lands on my ass with that sharp whistle and sting that makes me gasp.

There is something reassuring about that.

i discover that i can’t spell while being caned.  Who knew?  

When He has finished, i am not anxious any more, and my thoughts are not tied into knots.  i thank Him, of course.  It was just what i needed.


25 Apr

If you read “Ranch Dressing,” you might have thought that i’d already been punished for my infraction on Saturday.  But actually, we were involved in a vanilla activity all day Saturday, and Sunday morning was not the time.  

i wondered if He had changed His mind.  i may have even asked him in an email if He’d been serious about punishing me.  After all, i didn’t actually do anything wrong.

Don’t ask me what inspired that nonsense.

Last night, we were at another purely vanilla event, one involving grade school children and musical instruments.  It was lots of fun.  

Afterwards, He walked me to my car.

Casually, He says,  “Tomorrow night, I’m gonna put stripes on your ass.”

Then he adds, “I can’t believe you asked me if I was serious.  Of course I was serious.”  

But ~ “But i didn’t actually do anything wrong.”  i can’t help saying it.

He shakes His head.  “Don’t try to inject logic into this.  Stripes on your ass.  Tomorrow.”

This morning, i find myself thinking about it.  

No, it’s not really a punishment, although i’m sure at some point it will feel like one.  So it won’t exactly be fun either.  It’s that “something else” He does that makes me feel good when He’s done.  

The kind that afterwards, you sigh and say, “i needed that…”

At least that’s what i’m hoping for, right?


16 Apr

What i’m doing today:

What i’d like to be doing:

The good news is that we have two extra days for taxes this year.  So if i get finished today, i’ll still be early, right?

Sin Asked

2 Apr

Sin wants to know what my favorite BDSM concept and activity are.  Always glad to answer questions…

My favorite BDSM activity is spanking.  Well, being spanked.  i knew i wanted spanking when i was real young.  It’s reliable.  It always makes me wet.  You don’t even have to do it, just talking about it makes me wet.  

Spanking is the meat-and-potatoes of my kink.  Or, well, given a vegetarian bent, it would have to be the vegetable soup and salad of my kink.  {No, it doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?}

Nipple play ~ nipple torture ~ whatever you want to call it, is a close second.  Real close.  Hmmmm.  Is it ~ could it be? No.  Never mind.

Spanking is Number One.

i like the feel of His hand on my ass, the snap of a belt being pulled out of the loops, the whistle of the cane…  o, yes.

i could go on about that for a long time.  Actually, i think i have before.  {smiling}

i can feel his hand coming down on her - my? - ass...

But ok, yes, putting that aside…

BDSM concept.  What is my favorite BDSM concept?

There are so many i like.  Power.  Control. Obedience.

i love obedience.  The idea of doing as i’m told.  Of minding Him.  i love being told what to do.   {That would be a surprise to some people.  But it true, at least in a D/s relationship.}

But that’s not it.  Not my favorite.

i think my favorite concept is service.

And maybe i’m not even sure yet what that means.  

The stupid on-line dictionary says:

“an act of helpful activity; help; aid: to do someone a service,” which is such a horrible definition ~ an act of activity?  Whoever wrote that should be punished immediately.

So i went to my real dictionary, the one my mama gave me when i graduated from high school.  It said:

“Performance of labor for the benefit of another, or at another’s command.”  Much better.

But still ~  i’m not sure that “cock worship” is quite covered in that definition, although theoretically i suppose it is.

So, what i think is that my life is supposed to be about service, and BDSM lets that encompass all kinds of things.  Lots of times people mean domestic service, and you know that’s not really my strong suit.  Fortunately, i don’t think that’s what my Sir wants from me either.

Although ~ physical kinds of service, massages, preparing meals, fixing His coffee, and such are included actually.   But ~

Darn it, Sin, i didn’t know this was going to be a tough question!  i’ve got all kinds of ideas and feelings floating around in my head and can’t explain them.

Ok.  Fine.  i’ll have to come back to it if i’m gonna explain better.  Can’t do it this morning.

Laughing…  and i’m really annoyed with myself for not being able to describe it!  But here ~

There’s a video on Youtube that shows a woman practicing her slave positions.  Sir showed it to me the other night, He wants me to let Him know which of those my old body is capable of doing.  laughing… No, He didn’t say it that way, but that is the question.

Here it is:

At  the 38 second mark, she  lifts her arms, palms up, as if offering. i think maybe she’s just offering her wrists to be chained, but it’s still the gesture that i feel when i think about service.

Thanks for asking, Sin.  Is that answer enough, or do you want more?

P.S.  i love all of your responses to the quiz yesterday ~ will go answer them all, but just want to say ~ the correct answer was #2!  i had, indeed, been used and abused in the best possible way, and then slept in practically forever.  


29 Mar

Last night, Sir came over.

i was a little anxious, i had been fretting a little earlier that day.  i had not been able to reach Him and i’d gotten anxious, not reasonably anxious, but out of proportion anxious. i had emailed Him, half-laughing, half-serious, and then texted a couple of times.

It was unwarranted anxiety, and i knew it at the time.  Now ~

When He gets out of the car, i notice He has his computer bag and something else in His hand.  It looks like one of His canes.

And it is.

When He gets to the door, i hug Him, wrap my arms around Him, and He hugs me back.

Then He disentangles Himself from my hug.  He puts His hand on the back of my neck, and turns me so i’m facing away from Him.

“Come on,” He says, “Let’s find a good place to do this.”

He moves me down the hallway.  “Your bedroom,” He says,  “That’s a good place.”

At the foot of the bed, His hand still on the back of my neck, He firmly presses until i bend, face down, over the bed.

He pulls my skirt up, and my panties down.

“Twenty-five,” He says.  “I think that’s a good number.  Don’t you?

i am slow to respond, so He prompts me, “Say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ that’s the right answer,” and 

i say it then, hastily, “Yes, Sir!” although i’m thinking that is a lot. Twenty-five with the cane?  Can i do that?

But we are only to Four when i feel it happen.

My shoulders relax, my back muscles let go.  i sink into the bed a little more.

i quit holding my breath, and open to the feelings.

When he finishes ~ and He has not hit me very hard, but each stroke stings a little more than the one before it, so the last one makes me gasp and whimper ~ but when he finishes, and i am standing up again, i sigh with relief and laugh a little.

He looks at me quizzically, “You’re laughing?”  And He’s smiling a little.  “Why are you laughing?”

But i can’t tell Him, i don’t know why.

“Well,” He says, “That was to help you focus.  Do you feel focused now?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, and it’s true.  My mind is clear and i feel wonderful.

  i pause, then, “Thank you, Sir,” i say.

“Well.”  He nods.  Let’s eat dinner now.”  And we do.

Living Submission

20 Feb

“Some women wait for themselves around the next corner and call the empty spot peace but the opposite of living is only not living and the stars do not care.”
― Audre Lorde

Isn’t that beautiful?

i can’t analyze and explain what it means, but it speaks to me on some level that’s beyond words.


His hand in my hair, pulling firmly, gets my attention.  He turns my face up toward Him, i gasp.

“Kneel,” He says ~

and pulls me down as i bend my knees, no grace here, He just wants me on my knees ~

and His cock is ready, right there, sliding back past lips, pressing deep into my mouth ’til ~

it hits the back of my throat and my eyes close, trying to breathe through my nose, relaxing my throat,

“Take it. Take it.”  He says,

and i do,

i take it with pleasure, gagging a little as He presses harder, tears in my eyse

and then

He pulls away,

i gasp

wanting more,

but He is moving me, up to my feet,

He grasps a nipple between thumb and middle finger, on the way by,

pinches, tugs, twists until i gasp ~

then bends me over the arm of the couch, pressing my face down ~

His hand on my ass, rubbing for a second ~

rubbing ~

then it pulls back ~ i feel the pause, know it’s coming ~~~

and it lands ~

a resounding smack that takes my breath away,

followed by another

and another

until my ass is red and my breathing ragged ~~

then ~~

He pulls me up again, pulls me up,

and pushes me down, on my knees,

that lovely cock in my mouth

pushing Himself deep, balls against my face,

His hands find my nipples, pulling, stretching, pinching ~

i can’t whimper, His cock too far down my throat ~

but my pussy clenches and the juices

run down my thighs.

Doing the Happy Dance…

18 Jan

Last night i felt His dominance in all its lovely power.

From the collar and cuffs ~ o, such a wonderful feeling, as He buckles them ~ to the rope, pulled tightly around me…  from my flogger, which really caresses, to the full slap and sting of His belt… it was all lovely. 

He makes me lie down on my back, with my knees bent, legs open, arms at my side.  Then He ties my wrist cuffs to my ankle cuffs.


Splayed out, unable to move.  No doubt about who’s in control here.

The wooden spoon ~ o, yikes ~ tapping between my legs ~ O ~ O ~ and then my body suddenly relaxes.  All tied up, i had been a little tense, now, my body settles comfortably, opens to Him.

There is more, so much more… a feast of kinky delight.

Nipple clamps ~ did i want the right one tighter, looser, or the same? 

“The same, Sir, please,” i say.

“Like this?” as He puts the right one on.

Me, gasping ~ “O, i think that’s tighter.”

Sir ~ “But you wanted them the same, right?”

“Yes, Sir,”

“Then i guess I’d better tighten up this other one.”

O, yikes!!

Laughing…  after that, when He asks if one clamp is tighter than the other, i say, “Yes, Sir!  They’re the same!  Exactly the same, Sir.”

His hand in my hair… ahhhhh.  i love, love, love that.  Right at the nape of my neck.  The slightest tug sends waves of  pleasure through me.

And kneeling, tucked between His legs, caressing, licking …. feels like coming home.

This morning, aching nipples, rope marks on my torso, my heart is dancing with joy.

Spanking: A Fantasy {The End}

9 Jan

He pulls me out of the corner.  i’m awkward, my pants and panties around my knees are sliding down and i don’t know whether to try to stop them or let them go.

“Get out of those,” He says, solving that dilemma.  i let them drop and step out of them, leaving myself naked from the waist down.

He guides me, one hand still wrapped in my hair.  In front of the couch, He pushes gently, prompting me to kneel on the floor.

“That’s fine,” He says with a nod, sitting on the couch in front of me.  He looks at me a minute, and i want to squirm under the scrutiny, but manage to hold still.

“Tell me,” He says.

And for a second, i can’t think at all.  My mind is just a big panicky blank.

He’s watching me, intent, but patient.

It begins to come back to me, but i’m having trouble saying anything.

i swallow hard.

“Do you want some water?” He offers, and gratefully i drink from the glass He hands me.

That helps me find my words, but it’s still hard.  “i’m sorry,” i say, “really sorry that i broke the rule, um, the rule about not having an ~ an orgasm without permission.  I know it’s important for us to have rules ~ i wanted rules ~ ” and now my words flow easier, “because it makes me feel closer to you.”

And then it’s hard again, “When i break the rule, it makes it look like i don’t care,” i look up at Him, “and i do care.  Very much.”

There are tears in my eyes, i’m blinking them back, and He reaches out and touches my face.  “I know you care,” He says.  “And you know I need to enforce the rules.  You won’t be able to trust me otherwise.”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, and i can’t say anything else.

“It won’t always be a physical punishment,” He says.  “But this time I think you need that release.”

i nod.  i think He’s right, i think it will make me feel better, in some strange way.

“I’m going to use the shoe horn,” He says.  He gives me a second to absorb that, then adds, “It’s going to hurt.  You know I’m not lying about that,” and He smiles a little.  i can’t help it, i smile back.  i do know ~ when He says something’s going to hurt, it really does!

“In a minute, I want you to bend over the arm of the couch here.  I want your hands right here.”  He stands, indicating where He wants me, gestures for me to get up.

i get to my feet, place my hands where He wants them, so i am bent over, leaving my ass exposed, of course.  He doesn’t touch it or stroke it as He usually would, and that feels more ominous than anything else that has happened.

He is rooting through His bag, and i wait.

Then He is behind me.

“Eight,” He says.  “I’m going to give you eight hard ones.  I want you to count, and yes, I want to hear “thank you, Sir,” after each one.  So that’s ‘One, thank you, Sir; Two, thank you, Sir,’ and so on.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, and my voice sounds little bitty to me.

“Tell me,” He says.  “Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“i’m going to count, Sir,” my voice is still soft, but loud enough to hear, i think.  “i’m going to count one, two, three and so on, and say thank you Sir each time, Sir.”

“Good girl,” He says, and i’m still smiling to myself over that when the first one lands.

i gasp.

“O!  One, thank you, Sir.”

The second follows quickly, and the  third.  They land on both ass cheeks.  Each one is a little above or below the last one, but there is some overlap.

The fourth one, and it takes me a minute to say, “Four, thank you, Sir.”

“Breathe,” He says.  “Half-way there.”

And five lands, omigod… five, thank you, Sir…

My ass is on fire.  i keep lifting my leg, my right leg, bending it up and putting it back down, like that’s going to help.  And i’m making little whimpering noises, i can’t seem to stop.


omigod, omigod, omigod, six, thank you, Sir.  That’s when it melts, that something inside me that resists the pain, it just melts away.

“Two more,” He says.  “Two more and we’re done.”

And even though it hurts more than i thought it would, more than i thought it could, i know i can do two more, and really, i’m glad to.

“Yes, Sir,” i say.

And Seven lands, O!  He brings it down so it crosses the other ones, and it hurts so bad, really, i think there should be flames coming off my ass, like a cartoon, and it’s ok, “Seven ~ thank you Sir” i say and then

OMIGOD.  Eight.  O. O. O.  DAMN.

“Eight.  Thank you Sir.”

i feel so good – my ass is still burning, but i feel ~ i don’t know ~ i feel cleansed.

“Stay there a minute,” He says.  “Don’t try to get up until I tell you to.”

i’m quite happy to stay there, my legs feel a little wobbly anyhow.  i can hear Him moving around behind me, but it seems very far away.

Then He’s beside me, His arms slowly pulling me up, and i am a little dizzy, but He holds me up.  Looks at me, smiling just a little.

“Are you going to be having orgasms without permission again any time soon?” He asks.

“No, Sir,” i say vehemently, and bury my head in His shoulder, wrap my arms tight around Him.

“Come here,” He says, and He pulls me down on the couch, so we are wrapped together.  

“Good girl,” He says.