Shadow Lane 14: “Singapore-style” caning

I have many things to write about this year’s Shadow Lane (which was an amazing party), but in this blog I’m just going to write about the “Singapore-style” judicial caning scene organized on Sunday afternoon by Joe (“DrLectr”). It was one exciting hour and a half.

Joe advertised the event ahead of time and recruited bottoms to be “prisoners” and tops to play “prison guards.” I was asked to step up in the eleventh hour as a female guard, so I didn’t have the khaki pants and olive t-shirts (or actual camouflage fatigues in one case) that the male guards wore, but I wore a black skirt and top like the other female guard, Snow Mercy, and we all had matching red berets.

I’d wondered earlier whether I might like this event as a bottom, but I thought it might be too brutal for me. In reality, it was more about creating a head space, and every prisoner was asked ahead of time about his or her pain tolerance. Not everyone was caned–some got strappings or paddlings. One or two got both.

The two female guards and five male guards—ColoDom, DrLectr, FlaPaddler, StrictDave, and SDSpanko79—had to deal with two male prisoners and about 10 female prisoners.

This all took place in Joe’s suite, which happened to have a St. Andrew’s cross on display for some players who like a bit of a harder scene. The cross was called into service for the judicial canings.

After the prisoners were interviewed, then were given tags indicating what type and level of punishment they were to receive. Then all the prisoners were ordered into one of the side bedrooms to await their turn. Everyone was  to go one at a time.

In the main room, there were just a handle of spectators, friends of the people playing, who were asked to remain quiet during the event to not interfere with the emotional state some of the prisoners might be in. But the prisoners were apparently not going quietly. When Joe went to the side room to call for the first up, the door was locked. He calmly instructed those inside that they would be getting extra strokes, and the door was quickly opened.

The first male prisoner was led out, and I was called upon to punish him. It happened to be my friend Tom. I hadn’t played with him in a number of years and I’d forgotten his tolerance level. He was wearing a tag that said he was to be caned, but lightly—yes, this was slightly disappointing to me as I do like to cane hard, but we weren’t out to break anyone. At the end of the day, no matter how masochistic any of the prisoners were, no one was really going to be brutally caned Singapore style.

First I informed Tom that because the prisoners had locked the door, his six strokes had just increased to 10. He looked nervous, which got me a little excited. The male guards told him to drop his pants and shorts. He was cuffed up, and then a towel was positioned around his lower torso to protect his kidneys and plastic wrap from a spool wrapped around to secure the towel.

I delivered the first cane stroke to Tom as Joe barked out something in a language I didn’t recognize. I didn’t know he was going to be doing that, so I nearly jumped. The reason I didn’t recognize the language was because it was simply made-up words he was shouting to sound scary. Some of those watching whispered that perhaps next year someone could memorize 1-10 in Malay or Mandarin.

I gave Tom the ten strokes, making them moderate but increasing the intensity on the last few. It was gratifying to watch him from the side. Even though he wasn’t making much noise I could see him close his eyes and struggle a bit with the pain. Finally it was over, the guards uncuffed and unwrapped him, and he was dismissed.

Since there was only one other male prisoner and Snow Mercy was going to cane him, my job was basically done. So I could sit back and enjoy the show.

As each prisoner was led out, stripped naked from the waist down, cuffed into place and wrapped with a towel, it was easy to see how nerve-wracking these preparations were—especially the towel part because it implied that severe pain was coming momentarily. The three guards responsible for the cuffing and wrapping did not break a smile. It seemed dead serious, and of course the uniforms helped. They moved quickly while the person about to administer the punishment stood by.

Each prisoner reacted differently. Some cried out, some shook and struggled, and some were mostly stoic. And each guard had their own style of delivering punishment. When one guard reflexively hugged his prisoner after he’d caned her, someone in the audience whispered, “There’s no hugging in prison!” He and the other guards refrained from any other hugs, and prisoners once punished were simply dismissed.

Many of the women left their pants down and lay face down on the carpet, each subsequent female prisoner joining her sisters in the small group as her sentence was completed.

I was watching empathetically as one or two rather severe canings or strappings were delivered. The girls’ cries and yelps left my heart racing and other parts of me pulsing.

At one point the phone in the suite rang. Joe looked around briefly and commented, “If that’s the governor calling, we’re ignoring it.” It was later revealed that the prisoners who were still in the other room had used the phone in there to call the main suite. It seems one of the prisoners had actually been planning to impersonate the governor and issue pardons for the remaining prisoners. The girls who were still in the other room said they began to realize that the last few prisoners to be called were going to get some of the harsher punishments. They said they had huddled together nervously.

The last to be punished was poor Ellee, who was wearing an orange short-skirted uniform. She rather enthusiastically stripped this off as she faced the cross, leaving just black panties stating “bad girl” and thigh-high boots as she was positioned. Strict Dave was to strap her twelve times, and he stood by bearing the double-long strap that I’ve seen him use on occasion with some special spankees. Most of those watching knew that Ellee has played with Dave on many occasions, and they knew she could take it, but knowing that and watching what unfolded were two different things.

Dave, who I think used to play baseball, has a rather unique delivery that has him moving forward then back into his windup, finally lashing the strap forward and striking pay dirt. Ellee cried out at the first stroke, yelled, bucked and struggled briefly at some of the next strokes, but bore it beautifully.

The whole event was quite the adventure in group role play, and I felt it was done very well. There was little breaking of character, the guards were fun to watch in their very hot uniforms, the girls were fun to watch as they each bore their punishment in their own particular style, and I think most of those taking part in it or having the good fortune to watch left very satisfied.

 

 

“I want you to wear my marks”

Is it time?

I saw Suburban Spanker at breakfast on the last day of Crimson Moon. He and his partner were getting ready to drive home, but he said he still had time to play if I came to his room while they were packing up.

The timing had not worked out earlier. I didn’t want to let him go without playing with him; I might not see him for another year. But I was scared.

I told him would meet him shortly.

I went upstairs and showered, uncertain. I dressed, questioning my motives.

I texted him that I was on the way and I walked to the elevator.

BDSM and spanking: Is spanking a gateway drug?

All sorts of kinkiness

This blog was partially inspired by a piece written a short time ago on FetLife by a spanking fetishist I know, titled Celebrating Being a Spanko~! He writes that he’s sometimes heard the phrase, “Spanking is the gateway to kink,” which of course is not true. We all have different paths. If you’re interested in various things but spanking is the first thing you try, you could call it the gateway. But you could just have easily have tried bondage or wax play first.

There are perpetual intellectual debates about the differences between spanking and BDSM. I’ve said it before—I believe spanking is part of BDSM, but for the sake of simplicity here I’ll refer to one realm as spanking and the other realm as BDSM.

For me I came gradually into spanking, having explored many types of kinky sexual play when I was younger. My first public parties were spanking parties because they seemed safe, and there seemed to be a big emphasis on keeping sex separate. Even if couples were combining sex and spanking in private, there was no visible sexual play at these parties.

More than spanking

But soon I found myself at PaddlesNYC, probably within the first month of coming out, and my play that night was not just spanking play. (There’s no sex at Paddles, either, but there is more sexual touching and play allowed there).

As far as the condescending notion about spanking being a “gateway drug,” I’ve never heard a mainstream kinkster say anything like that to me, but then again, my immersion into the scene went the other way: S&M was more my gateway to spanking.

I feel more at home at spanking parties—it’s sometimes easier to find play partners at spanking parties than at larger kink events. And I’ve gone to many more weekend spanking parties than weekend BDSM parties, so I’ve gotten to know a core group in the spanking community.

Worlds colliding

However, I feel reasonably comfortable in both worlds. In local BDSM circles, I have known for being a spanko. And I like that people seek me out for canings or strappings or OTK spankings.

Last weekend, at the TES Fest, I had the pleasure of topping a rather well-known member of our community (he needed a hard caning), as well as a lovely young woman who needed a nurturing OTK spanking.

I feel it is when I am seeking Tops or Doms in the BDSM world when I run into trouble. As a bottom, I enjoy spanking play, often severe, and I have a punishment fetish that goes along with that. I often run into Tops who don’t want to spank me because “it’s not a punishment if it’s what you want.” I’ll tell them that I want to be spanked hard enough that I am struggling … hard enough that during the spanking I won’t like it.

Still, they say, “But it will turn you on later.” And … your point? All of it’s play—even the punishment part. So it’s OK to pick a punishment that turns me on, if you ask me.

But if a top insists on “punishing” me in some way other than spanking, it will probably still turn me on because he’s making me take pain. My fetishes—spanking, punishment, being controlled, fear, and pain—all sort of melt together. It’s hard to explain this to some BDSM doms. Still, none of them ever put me down because I’m a spanko.

There are actually a lot of spankos who go to these “other” events. Some of them may be spankos plus something else, some not. And there are spankos who only go to spanking parties … but do various other types of play behind closed doors.

So no, I don’t think spanking is a gateway drug, but many of us go out and explore other play even if our first love is spanking play. And others stick just to spanking. It’s all about what turns you on.

Cranky, horny, ornery

I’m up late getting some work done. Wasted half an hour trying to pick a new theme for my blog here, because I’m simply not happy with any of the current themes. This one will be a placeholder for a little while. . . . or maybe it’ll grow on me. We’ll see. My disatisfaction tends to increase when I attempt to personalized my blog. You’d think some of my own artwork would make it feel more “mine.” But I’m simply not happy with my artwork, either.

I’ve been talking to some new people recently. I am still seeking a dom but it’s been an elusive thing. I want a domly dom but tired of domly doms who don’t act the way I want them to act! I know, I’m not a “real” sub. Honestly, I’m not a real sub right now. But … I’m never a “real sub” unless I’m actually with someone, subbing to him (or her). The rest of the time I’m working, writing, making stuff, doing chores, hanging with friends…

Beyond the new guys messaging me on FetLife, I have had interesting real life proposals lately, from people I know and like. Not one but two dominant couples has proposed play. I want to accept both offers and now it’s just a matter of working out the time and negotiating the specifics. Negotiating the specifics? You do what your dom tells you, there’s your negotiation! Ha ha. I’m getting punchy. OK, to bed soon. But I am looking forward to these scenes. Out of the four people involved, so far I’ve only played with one of them, and I’ve usually topped him. He’s been getting a wicked gleam in his eye lately, discussing this upcoming play session.

The Protocol Party

Saturday’s party was a fun, new experience. It was nice having a sub to serve me. On top of being responsible for getting my food and drinks, he brought me some delicious organic dark chocolate, enough to share with others, AND he gave me a foot, back/neck and head massage. The foot and neck massage was great for aching muscles and sore toes, but the head massage was divine. That i
s better than getting high…

Now, we did follow some light protocol. He was to call me Ma’am, get the doors for me, and, when we were seated he sat on a pillow on the floor. House rules were that subs did not use furniture unless there was some physical issue that prevented them from being on the floor. My sub had back issues and asked that I not make him kneel. He b brought his own pillow plus a floor-level seat with a stiff back for support.

It was really nice not to have to worry about bringing food for the party (I never mind bringing food but it is something I can easily obsess over.) And at the end of the evening it was the subs’ job to clean up. (I had to stop myself from jumping in!) My “boy” also carried my bag for me and cleaned up our play area after we were done playing.

I was glad the evening included play, not just subs quietly serving while the doms chatted and sipped tea, because I may have been bored out of my skull!

I did find it weird seeing a lot of my friends who were in the sub role and not being sure about how to interact with them. They were not supposed to speak unless a dom spoke to them first, so I kept thinking, Am I only supposed to talk to them if I NEED something? As the evening progressed it became easier.

My sub is new to this, publicly at least, and he hasn’t played too much. I didn’t go crazy on him. I did give him a short caning. He’d never been caned; it’s always nice to break someone’s “virginity.” Next time I’ll go a little harder and I’ll bring my own canes.

Best thing about the party was that it was very small and I knew almost everyone there. I was glad I’d opted to be on top, too. Next time, though, I may explore the other side.

Following protocol

I’m attending a small “protocol” party tonight in Long Island, a gathering in which there are formal rules in place for subs—and doms, too, I suppose, because they need to be aware of what’s expected. I would have preferred to do this as a bottom first, as I’ve wanted to explore this for quite some time.

But I didn’t want to be a solo sub, or what the hosts are calling “house” subs. On the one hand, there is no pressure to play with anyone. But on the other hand, there is no one expecting you to play.

The subs are expected to bring and set up the food, serve their doms and the others, and clean up. None of that would bother me in the least. What bothers me is not having a special someone to do it for. I wrote recently that I am seeking a part-time dom. I’m currently “interviewing” candidates, but I don’t have that person in my life just yet.

So I decided to attend the party as a Dom, with a new friend (a friend of a friend) attending as my sub. I met the gentleman about a month ago at another Long Island party, and he’s a good guy—intelligent, able to articulate what he wants, and attractive. He is more into service than taking pain, but that does not mean we won’t have fun. I watched him give an awesome foot rub at the other party and I always enjoy a good foot rub. He says he’s good at neck and head massage, too. All good.

When I am on the sub side of things, I LOVE having someone take charge and tell me what to do. I don’t know if all subs are like this, but probably most are. So I felt it important that I come up with at least a few rules for the evening.

*Call me ‘Ma’am,’ not ‘Mistress.’

*If you need to use the bathroom or change position, ask politely, then thank me.

*If you are bringing me an appetizer, bring a plate with several appetizers to offer to others.

I also told him to bring me some dark chocolate, and to try to bring some for the hostess as well. For our meal, he’s bringing a healthy dish; I told him I was trying to eat better. But I added another rule: If I choose to eat something unhealthy, he is not permitted to mention it!

The stated rules of the party include:

*All submissives must sit on the floor when seated unless they have physical restrictions.

*Submissives must not initiate conversation with any Dominant.

*Any Dominant may ask any submissive to get them a beverage or napkin or something to nibble on. This should not be construed as usurping anyone’s authority.

*Tidying up as the evening progresses is the responsibility of all submissives present.  Those not participating in housekeeping duties reflect poorly on their Mistress or Master.

*If the Dominant wishes to make an example of their errant sub then they should do so in any way they wish (within house guidelines)

Having someone serve me will be fun. It should happen more often! But I plan on doing more than eating dinner and watching subs clean up the kitchen. I told him: “I will have a short strap with me. It is not severe. I may use it on your butt, back or hand. Or I may just spank you.” 

Boardwalk Badness Weekend 2013

Dare I attempt to blog about this weekend, the fourth Atlantic City spanking weekend? I had a good time. I didn’t feel overly emotional about anything, or insecure, or jealous, to any large degree. I think I always have those feelings pop up a little bit. But for the most part, I felt that I was with people who liked me, with people I liked back, and that enough people I wanted to play with wanted to play with me.

I didn’t feel huge angst over missed connections this year. Two years ago, I had written about a sudden and severe drop leaving the party because I felt a good friend had blown me off. This year, I think I had fewer scenes than ever and that was fine. I cancelled all potential scenes for Sunday afternoon because I had to work—I had a deadline I needed to meet on Tuesday—and I missed hooking up with one of my favorite players as a result. He lives on the wrong coast! But I’ll see him at Shadow Lane over Labor Day weekend and we will play then. At least that’s the plan. He’s very popular and has lots of other women to play with so my cancelling with him wasn’t going to leave him bereft …

On the other hand, I’d apparently overbooked play on Saturday night. I had talked to several people about arranging play after I’d finished my security shift on Saturday night. I told one guy I could play at 1 am after my shift (and that was a definite in my head) but the second guy thought we were playing at 1 a.m., too. In my mind, we were simply supposed to meet at some point after 1 am to pinpoint a play time, and because he wasn’t there right at 1 a.m., I left to play with the other guy.

He gave me a hard time about it when we were on the boat on Sunday night, but in a joking, teasing way — he didn’t seem too mad. But on the other hand, he didn’t spank me when I offered to accept a punishment for my transgressions. So maybe he was mad. Uncertain. He’s promised to give me a double thrashing when he sees me next, which left me feeling a bit relieved after all—he does still want to play. He was  a guy I’d met at the World Spanking Party in the fall and was a very fun top. Wish it had worked out.

You gotta understand, it can be so easy to get upset over not playing with someone and it can be so easy to be the cause of someone else’s upset. I try not to make promises I can’t fulfill. Problem with a party where you won’t see people for another year is that you tend to want to just seize the moment, grab a player and do a scene while you are both there and ready to go.

The few scenes I did were superb, especially the double-topping scene with Tom and Morgan. They are both evil. On the other hand, they get me…

Rad and I only got to play once, but that’s because he was barely playing. He had been hacking so hard with bronchitis a week or so  before the party that he actually thinks he cracked a rib on his right side. At some point on Saturday night he was able to put me over his knee and spank me with his left arm. We go to these events to catch up with people, too, not just play, so he says he still had a great time.

.

*In the next post I’ll talk about the Bad Boys Punished event I ran on Saturday afternoon.*

More about the World Spanking Party

As I said in my last post, I got to meet some very cool people at the World Spanking Party, and I got to spend more time talking to folks I have met before but didn’t know that well. I’m pretty sure I have finally learned the names of all of “The Brits”–the ones who tend to travel en masse to Shadow Lane and the Boardwalk Badness Weekend. But the WSP did have folks from Spain, Germany, Ireland, a few more from the UK, the US, Canada, Holland and I think a few other places as well. Am I wrong or was there someone from Australia there? That seems like an awful long way to travel for a weekend party–I hope they had other things to see and do while in Europe.

As I mentioned, Cambridge Ian and I had a date to play, and since it had been so hectic at the Villa the night before, we decided to hang at the hotel for a while on Saturday morning and early afternoon. I was due back late-afternoon for the Female-topping-males party. Rad and I had lunch, I showered and changed then met Ian at his room, down the hall from ours.

I was not so nervous about playing and making noise, since I thought he’d mostly be using the cane. But he surprised me by saying a needed a good warm up first, and proceeded to spank me. The sounded echoed loudly and as a result I found it hard to relax. There’s nervousness because of pain, and anticipation of more pain, and then there’s anxiety that any minute now you’re going to get a knock on your door. He had the end room on the floor and he said he was pretty sure there wasn’t anyone in the room next to his, but I wasn’t sure. And sound can carry into and down a hallway pretty easily. I tried to let it go and relax.

I might have written about Ian before, although, maybe not. He has this interesting caning style where he pretty much canes a person for a good 15, 20 minutes without a break. He did this first with one of his canes and then with the new Dragon cane I’d purchased at the vendor fair the night before.

Not all his strokes are heavy–he does this tap-tap-tapping for a while, increases the intensity, lets a solid stroke fly, goes back to the tapping, lets another good stroke land, back to the tapping, another good stroke, and then a REALLY hard stroke. then sometimes 7-10 good strokes in a row, followed by a REALLY hard stroke. The patterns are not predictable, and there was no way I could keep count, but at one point about halfway through the second cane, I did try to count and figured there were close to 100 “real” strokes that I could count — between that and the other cane I’d probably taken around 300-400.

It’s hard to write about it without reminiscing pleasantly on the scene–I was feeling the endorphins or serotonin or whatever drug was being released as a response to the pain–but the pain was real, and I yelped and gasped at a lot of the strokes. I was determined to maintain position throughout and I did a fairly good job although there were times when I bucked or twisted slightly. I was gripping the end of the mattress during some of the harder volleys.

Ian said he doesn’t play that hard with most people, which made me happy. I thought it was a pretty hot scene.

It’s true, Sandy blows

Image found on Huffington Post — if anyone knows if there’s a different source that needs to be credited, let me know. 
It’s the first time I’ve had a hurricane named after me. While I admit I’m enjoying the infamy, I hope it doesn’t turn out as bad as the news reports are predicting. (How many more times are we going to hear, “Don’t be a fool–evacuate!” while the very same reporters saying this are sent out into the beach towns to find the fools who aren’t evacuating. Or, “Look at these nutzos still walking on the beach!” says the reporter standing on the beach. This is what reporters are told to do; I was a reporter once and did the same myself, in every major storm.)

I can hear the wind gusting outside, though our windows are closed. It’s 4:30 am — we got up early because Rad thought he might have to go into work and I would have had to drive

him

(all public transportation has been shut down). He’s now heard he doesn’t have to do something that foolish, thank god.

Good luck to everyone who is dealing with Sandy. don’t take it out on me!

World Spanking Party

Most of those who write have already written about the World Spanking Party. Why didn’t I blog til now? I had my laptop with me, something to record my thoughts in even with our limited access to the internet. But during the trip I mostly wrote in a marble notebook, the kind of notebook I like to use as a journal. Rad and I were so busy doing stuff that I barely got a free moment to write it down.

But a little bit about how things went: It was Ian the London Tanner‘s first attempt to throw a party like this, and there were some glitches, mainly out of his control. One phenomenally large “glitch” was that the party venue–the villa where a bunch of us were all supposed to stay–was pulled out from under us the Sunday before the party was about to begin.

We arrived on Wednesday afternoon to Benalmádena, Spain (on the Mediterranean), having received instructions to meet at the hotel rather than the villa. Ian soon informed us what had happened — the people who own the villa had had noise complaints during a wedding a few weeks back and were nervous about our own particularly noisy activity. They had a contract, but the villa owners found some clause in the contract that allowed them to cancel, and they gave Ian his money back.

He spent most of the next four days on the phone, wheeling and dealing and trying to get an alternate venue for the party. We who were supposed to be staying at the villa sucked it up. I wasn’t thrilled with the hotel room– it was tiny; the walls were paper thin and carried every noise–but it did have a free breakfast every morning and was close to everything.

People were arriving and the other Ian arrived. This is my old friend from Cambridge and I was very happy to see him. I often see him at Shadow Lane but he hadn’t attended this year so it had been a while… Several other people who were originally going to attend–D and G from San Diego, and Kay, one of the organizers–had cancelled for various reasons.

At the meet-and-greet dinner on Thursday night it was soon revealed that Ian had found a new venue, a new villa to hold the party in. I was very impressed that he could do it on such short notice! But then we learned there wasn’t enough space for everyone. After the party organizers got their rooms, there was only one room left over and four couples remaining who had booked the villa, not the hotel. There was some back and forth talk about how we could decide who got the room, but three couples pretty much agreed to let Miss Chris have the room because she had arranged for a bunch of private sessions and would “need it” more than we would.

The meet and greet was terrific, and was held at a restaurant called “Once Upon a Time”(“Erase Una Vez”). (I caught up with Cambridge Ian, as well as M&K from Colorado, and met some new people. I got flirty debating with a British gentleman over why many guys at parties won’t take “no” for an answer, the condensed version being that if guys always took “no” as “no,” the human race would not have survived. Perhaps, perhaps…

This guy was intelligent and cocky in the way I like. He hinted that he might like to play during the party, and that was fine by me. He seemed pretty cool.

I had promised my Cambridge friend that we would play, and in my book he had “first dibs” on me. In the back of my mind I was worried about the noise from playing in our hotel rooms. But I know he loves using the cane, which is pretty quiet compared to a hand spanking, so I guessed we could give it a shot.

More to come soon, at least I hope…