Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Rosy Reset Button

Last night, lying in bed exhausted after an unexpected romp with Mr. W, both of us well-medicated and fighting the flu but apparently also horny as hell, I felt giddy. I told him, "I feel like I'm going through puberty again, or I'm a teenager again, or, I don't know. I'm getting turned on by new and different things. I'm having new sensations. It's exciting."

I've found new delights as I build my Twitter feed. I've found myself turned on by things I had not considered, or things I had turned away from in the past. Everything feels new and sexy now; the orgasms are mine for the taking. I am so grateful to the community and to the individuals who are opening my eyes, even after a life of quiet devotion to sex and kink.

We've been talking about switching, something we've very lightly danced around before but never really tried. Now feels right. I've never been more comfortable in my body. I feel strong, I am a goddess and a warrior. I feel like I can channel this intensely feminine power into delivering fleshly delights to Mr. W's body and ecstasy throughout his mind, once I understand how to play his body as he plays mine.

If we'd been healthier, last night could have been the night. As it was, I couldn't resist asking him to lie across my lap as we watched Ripper Street on Netflix, a new favorite. I just meant to relax him, run my hands up and down his back, massage his bottom and the tops of his thighs. I'd spend long minutes running my short nails lightly across his backside, hip to hip, dipping into the crack for extra scritchy-scratches, teasing his skin then massaging deeply into the muscle, grabbing hold of each beautiful buttock at its root, kneading the flesh to coax out any lingering tightness. I just wanted him to be jelly over my lap, so he could rest and not get this flu bug as badly as I did.

Instead, his cock refused to go gently into our good night, so insistent was its firm knocking against the tops of my thighs that eventually I could not ignore its rapping.

"My pussy needs attention," I told him, trying out a more demanding sexual language than I would normally use.

He rolled off me and laid on his back, his ready cock an invitation. I climbed aboard, already so wet that he slid in with almost no friction. I began to grind and he was all mine for a moment. Then, my Daddy said something to his Naughty Daughter, except I hadn't had those characters in mind and it threw me off and I lost my rhythm. We've been pretty consistently playing with the Daddy thing lately, really having fun with it, I will be sharing more of that as well, don't you worry, but I was just in a different mental space last night and I was in charge - until I wasn't.

Mind you, this was two loving married sick people trying to make each other happy and relaxed before getting a good night's rest. I realized that both of us were trying to be in charge to take care of the other one. It wasn't a roleplay crisis, no communication breakdowns here. Just two people doing their best to be sexy for the other. He takes such incredible care of me. I'm really looking forward to a day in the near future when I get to tell him that I'm taking charge, and then I do. 

I stood up and invited him to the space at the end of the bed. I spread my legs wide and put my hands on the floor in front of me. "Why don't you press that rosy little reset button back there?" I said, wiggling my butt back and forth in front of him. I wasn't sure if he'd take that as in invitation to play with my asshole or smack my ass, but as should have been expected, he took it as an invitation to both.

A few good hard spanks to each cheek and an index finger deep inside my asshole later, we were back to fucking, deep and hard and soon I was bending forward into my knees and elbows, animalistically taking his cock from behind. I felt like a tigress about to burst forth from my own skin and I came hard and hard again, a guttural growl deep in my throat turning into a nice sexy cough as we finished.

I am going to warm that man up to a gorgeous pink and then drive his senses into overload with his first real spanking from his Wife and Mistress, Mrs. W. But until then, I am so glad this little Abby has her Mr. W, her husband, her Daddy, her best friend in this amazing smutty life to care of her. 

Saturday, January 12, 2019

@AbbyW2007 & Saturday Whiplist

I'm finally on Twitter again! I need to fill up my Twitter feed with spankos in case Armageddon comes, so we can join together and rebuild the world . Can you help?

Follow Me: @AbbyW2007

Follow Mr. W: @MrWilliamsTLRW

As we continue to take pics of our playtime, I'll have bonus photos to post to Twitter, plus some additional fun content when I don't have time for full posts. Plus it's perfect for showing off little finds when we go out spank-tiquing (when we look for pervertibles at antique stores) or smut hunting. I just got the account going again this week, I am fully open to follows and following.

Here's some other stuff going on this weekend. We're calling this the #Whiplist going forward, for any spanking related to-do's! Make your own!

I want to do Brigit Delaney's Erotic Journal Challenge. I discovered it on Twitter and am thrilled that there is something like this going on. I have a terrible head cold, so if I don't make it this week, next week for sure. The challenge this week is: When did you discover your own sexuality? For example, when was the first time you masturbated or realized you could feel physical sexual pleasure? When did you first feel sexual desire? How did you address it?

Mr. W found one lot of 94 vintage erotica paperbacks listed on Craigslist locally and went to pick them up yesterday. Because of my cold, we still haven't gone through them, but I peeked. Hot damn. This one, How to Make a Mini by Don Tattersall, from Continental Classics circa 1968, features quite the set of rules for the students of Institution Ariel: 

"According to the manager's wish, each pupil must have a permanent A to satisfy the master. If she only makes a B, even if she only misses by one or half a point, she has to receive a hand spanking in front of all her classmates. If she makes a C, she is whipped with a cat o'nine tails, under that she receives a poisoned ivy whipping on the cunt or the ass hole. If she has a 6, she will be whipped on the sex, and shall receive an enema of two pints with a normal size nozzle." The rules get more severe from there, including quite a bit of anal punishment along with much spanking. The rest of the book describes the students failing at their grades and getting their ass-centric comeuppance. It is surprisingly dirty in the best way.

Plus I still want to do a write-up of both our Tuesday and Wednesday nights! Here's another shot from Wednesday, shows a little more of that rosy glow, although we do need to look at lighting for future shoots. This is one of the first pics Mr. W took that night so my rear end is still flushed with pain and excitement.

Thursday, January 10, 2019

Becoming My Fetish Incarnate

If you're not up for reading - more welty bruisy pics below. But I'd love if you read my love letter to spanking as it slowly begins to consume more and more of my time and life. xoxo, Abby

I am overwhelmed with a renewed sense of desire, as if on the verge of something so illicit and delicious that my skin can barely stand the anticipation. An underlying but constant distraction keeps my mind and nerves abuzz. I get through the day but the thrum in the shadows grows louder and stronger and faster - I have become lust incarnate for a thing I cannot possess.

I crave this thing called Spanking. I want to live inside it, taste it, fuck it, be it, know it like an acolyte knows the meaning behind the meaning behind the meaning of a favorite prayer.

Suddenly I'm writing again. I have ideas for stories. I'm putting together collections. As you know, I've been more comfortable posting photos of myself as well, either spanked or just in celebration of the body and the bottom. Mr. W is working on a number of spanking-related projects that I hope to be sharing with you here soon. We've started going out smut hunting again, and looking for pervertibles, and just being in the mind-space all the time. It's starting to feel like we're always turned on.

For too long, spanking has been a core part of each of our identities, but we haven't allowed it to be front and center. Yet, if you asked each of us privately, it is THE thing that makes us each who we are. And if you asked us together what makes us amazing as a couple, if we were comfortable enough to say so, we'd tell you it's because we not only complement each other's fetish, we ARE each other's fetish. He is my top and everything I would want that to be. I am his bottom.

Starting next week, I've actually adjusted my work schedule so that I have more time to write and play and share all this with the world that knows what I'm talking about. And I want to be an advocate for spanking play! This blog contains eleven years of (on-and-off) writing about understanding why I am like this. I am at long last through with that. I am like this. I think things are about to get really good.

The pic at the top and these here below are from playtime with the strap and cane with Mr. W last night. I wrote the above yesterday but didn't get a chance to post it. Then all this happened. One of my "vignettes" to tell you the dirty details will be coming up in the next few days.

Afterwards, I asked him if he had a favorite moment or part from what we'd just done, but in true brat fashion I was too excited to tell him my favorite to let him answer. "My favorite part," I told him, "was when  you had my in - for lack of a better term - diaper position on the edge of the bed, and the strap really hurt and I started wiggling. You grabbed my legs and did your best to hold me in place, but you let me cry and twist and turn." That twisting and turning resulted in some of the welts you see on my left leg - truly my own misbehaving fault! "There was a moment in there when I realized you were just going to let me cry and squirm and I just let go and existed purely in that moment."

"My favorite moment," he replied, "was that same moment, when I felt you let go."

I'm writing up this last bit early this morning and I have the most delightful shivers. Someone's going in to work wet today.

Sunday, January 6, 2019

A Collection of O

 I first read the classic erotic novel The Story of O in the summer of 1999 during hours worked in the basement computer lab of my college library. Obsessed with knowing the thoughts of like-minded readers at the time, I printed out the entirety of Amazon's customer comments on the classic title. I just found the print-outs yesterday while looking for another part of my collection, an article from The New Yorker magazine, that appears below. As for the comments, they are dated March 3 1997 - August 9 1999. I haven't reread them yet, but I can see a follow-up post coming soon if there is anything of interest. Imagine! The thoughts of fellow readers, some surely with a spanking obsession much like ourselves, and the voices they used in 1999! This discovery feels historical. I can't wait to dig through these pieces of internet, literary, and bdsm history.

The article that appears here in 9 photographs (please use the enlarge feature on your device) is also from the basement of my college library. As a bibliophile, I know better than to destroy or steal library property. As a young woman blossoming into her sexual identity, I carefully removed the article from both the magazine and its rightful library home. So spank me. Smiley face!

"The Unmasking of O" by John De St. Jorre delves into the heart and secret life of Dominique Aury, the woman behind the nom de plume Pauline Reage. It also features the art of Guido Crepax from the 1975 graphic novel adaptation of Story of O, which I am regretful is not part of my collection, as it is no longer in print and is now a collector's item in its various printed productions. The article, originally printed in 1994, is worth the read. 

A third piece from my collection that I will share today is a new find. We went out smut hunting yesterday - thrift and used bookstore shopping for treasures, and this was amongst our spoils. The 1959 edition that appears at the top of this post is from another such day of erotic questing. The new one is fantastic! It's a printing from 1967 by Collectors Publications in California, who interestingly claim the motion picture rights on the copyright page (see below). This porn is ours! This one includes a Preface that reads like a carnival barker announcing the prizes that lie within these pages: "THE STORY OF O is a tragic, sick love tale. It is a story of man's inhumanity to man. O does not necessarily typify womankind. What she does epitomize is shown by her name - O, meaning, cipher, zero, NOTHING."  It screams trailer for an exploitation film or circus ringleader announcing the next act. Later editions insist upon a sort of sanctity, a respect to both the woman who wrote it and its place in the annals of erotica. This one delights in its tragic salaciousness.

Also of note is the back panel of the book - an advertisement for the complete collected and unabridged eleven volumes My Secret Life, which many of us know now as a single volume, My Secret Life - An Erotic Diary of Victorian London. I would love to get my hands on these individual volumes! The more erotica on our shelves the better.