Sunday, December 9, 2018

Dear Dirty Diary #1


Dear Dirty Diary,

I was disappointed that Daddy and his Naughty Daughter didn’t make an appearance last night. We’d had every intention to play those parts to their nastiest and fullest, but instead real life family required our attention. This Naughty Daughter’s spanking was delayed.

Mr. W came up behind me just after I wrote the above paragraph. “I’m starting a new series!” He liked the idea of the Dirty Diary and I had every intention of coming back to write about a fantasy scenario in lieu of the one that did not get a chance to play out last night. But first, we needed to string the lights on the Christmas tree.

Diary, I need to share this with you, even though it has nothing to do with spanking. Every year, Mr. W teases me that there is a Skid Row Christmas album, and every year, for just a moment, I get excited and believe him. They are my favorite hair metal band from the 80's/90's and I inexplicably long for a Christmas album from them. Well this year, he put together a playlist on Spotify for us to listen to while decorating the tree. The first song was nothing I knew. Just as the second song was about to play, he told me to go look at the app. It was “Jingle Bells” by Skid Row. At first it didn’t even register. Then tears came to my eyes. Ridiculous as it seemed, it felt as if he’d found me a Christmas miracle, as if he’d willed it into existence just for me.

We finished the lights and hung our two 2007 commemorative ornaments – we’re coming up on 12 years married next May. Then the plan was to wait for “the kids” (my 23-year old stepson and his girlfriend) to join us for decorating the rest of the tree. However, when the girlfriend got here, they decided to run out for lunch.

“Well,” I said to Mr. W, I can work on my diary entry, or you can spank me and take some photos before they get back.”



You can see which we chose. As he bent me over the chair, he told me, “Sometimes naughty daughters just need a good paddling.”

This Naughty Daughter couldn’t agree more, and can’t wait for the rest of her paddling as soon as there is time to fully punish her on the bare. This paddling, despite the nude photos, was over leggings.



Note on the paddle: A curvaceous and balanced piece designed and crafted by Mr. W, the paddle is knotty alder and is still unfinished. The pain is deep and thuddy, exactly what you imagine for a traditional home or school punishment paddling. It matches my fantasy of how this scene should feel on a very naughty bottom.


Friday, December 7, 2018

A Little Tease



Mr. W teased my bottom with two firm swats of a new walnut paddle he designed and crafted. I don't mark easily. We were in the master bathroom and I watched both our eyes widen in the mirror as these blooms rose upon my backside. I couldn't help but share the tease here in return.

I'm hoping to have smuttier pics and a sexy punishment story to go with it by the end of the weekend.

This paddle is so beautiful - sanded so smoothly that it feels like silk until - smack! - it takes on a new sensation. It's the perfect size for OTK or lap play. I can imagine Mr. W enjoying the wheelbarrow position, the paddle practically bouncing itself back and forth from cheek to cheek.

He knows I'm up for punishment play and a very sore bottom this weekend. The anticipation is distracting me from all other thoughts and activities, so here I am, naughty again, sneaking in a quick post and just a little tease of paddle bruises to come.



Friday, November 23, 2018

An Early Stock-ing Stuffer


Stock-ing stuffer, get it? Because I am stuffed into the stocks! Still dorky after all these years.

We had a delicious first time playing with the stocks. Mr. W built a pillory that allowed us to place the main piece at three different heights (for standing, kneeling on the floor, and lying on a bench at mid-height). We were both overwhelmed with the sexiness of the thing, having both grown-up with fantasies of punished village women of imagined yore, their plump buttocks whipped on the town square for all the world to see, unable to cover their backsides or their faces due to the restraint of the stockades. And yet, Mr. W also made safety and my emotional comfort his first precaution. Much as we both wanted him to thrash my backside and leave me trembling, we played slowly and mostly lightly, ensuring more vicious sessions to come.

The flogger warmed my bottom, back, and thighs as I stood restrained at both wrists and the neck. This was followed by the strap on just my cheeks, bottom to top. He released me then and I allowed myself to fall to my knees, but we skipped the stocks at that height and moved to mid-height and the bench. The bench has been with us throughout our life together as well as our visible spanking life - it features in both Introducing Abby and The Breaking Point, the first and last of the Naughty Abby videos. It was "on set" for Please Not My Hands, right next to the front door and the chair where I received my tawse strokes, and I remember how hard we made love on it after the cameras were off.

Now, I lay upon my belly, legs angled to the ground and resting on my tiptoes, wrists and neck constrained. My hair hung in my face, leaving me feeling hidden and anonymous. From head to toe, I was all too aware of my exposition and it was easy to invite dread into the scene, but Mr. W tickled that same head to toe route with the tips of the flogger, just light wiggles against my body. The hair against my cheeks matched his tickling and my skin lit up, every cell open to sensation.

Just as I was welcoming the teases of leather upon my skin, the deerhide was traded for rattan. The cane cut deep with a thud. A welt rose so quickly that Mr. W's index finger was admiring its width before I caught my breath from the stroke. On to the next stroke and I began to cry. The strokes felt so deep, even though you can see from the photographic evidence that they were just right for easier play. We are still learning what it is like to play with my new shape, with the muscles of new size, with their exposure where there was once layers of thicker flesh. I am still learning what punishment on my new parts feels like. Liquid from both nose and eyes flowed to the carpet and to a support beam that ran across the base of the pillory.

Mr. W set the cane down and stroked my hair, then gently told me to hold on. He returned with tissues and held them to my eyes and nose. Although I was capable of releasing my arms, when he held the tissue to my nose and told me to blow, I blew, fully in his care and control. It was my favorite moment of the scene. It was so intimate, even more-so than the exposure, whipping, and caning of my ass.

We continued with a short caning. I wanted beautiful marks and he gave them to me in just the right proportion. It was just enough that afterwards, as I straddled and rode him on the couch, I whispered, "Next time. More vicious. I want it hard." Hands on my hips, he agreed. "I wanted you to feel comfortable this time. So next time I can beat you terribly." All the good muscles clenched around him. "Yes please," I whispered. Then just, "Yes, yes, yes..."

Monday, November 12, 2018

Shapes of Things to Come






Hey world, just a note to say I'm possibly back but definitely better than ever! I took some time to work on my health and well-being. Check out the butt that comes with a little self love (and a whole lot of squats)! Took this photo last night and knew it was time to pop on here and say hi.

Also, check out what we found and Mr. W refinished. We're playing with this later...