Punished for swearing

Swearing is something I am not allowed to do. Like all of my rules it has been discussed and mutually agreed to. I used to swear pretty frequently but after many a spanking and mouth soaping I am pleased to say I rarely do anymore; well that was until recently. For some reason profanity is edging its way back into my vocabulary much to my Sir's disapproval and to my bafflement. I really do not mean to do it, it slips out unbidden and unwanted. Every time I do it I am cringing and berating myself before I have finished the words. Sir tells me it is a lack of discipline and respect for her and our DD rules. It tends to happen when I am not with her which has lead to her saying that being her Girl is not a part-time thing, something that only stands when we are together. I am her Girl ALL the time. I agree. Wholeheartedly.

Mostly when I break rules, I am conscious of it, I pretty much make a choice to disobey, I know there will be consequences and choose to do it anyway. When this is the case I accept my punishment even when I really don't want to! I am in control in that I could have chosen not to misbehave. But this swearing thing! Gee whizz. I do not want to get spanked or anything else for something that I feel I can't help. On the other hand Sir declares that if we start to be complacent and she is inconsistent then  we will be on a slippery slope to damaging our DD relationship. I agree. So I will accept my punishments and I will be grateful for the continued commitment of my Sir to my well being and our loving DD life.

The point of this is not whether swearing is acceptable or not, no doubt many of you reading this will not see a problem with an adult using whatever words she chooses. The issues are obedience, consistency and submission. Obedience is hard, submission even harder but also I must acknowledge how hard it must be for my Top to be constantly vigilant and steadfast. How she remains firm in the face of my excuses, emotions, lack of submission and the distance that we still have to deal with 70% of the time.

DD works when Top and bottom appreciate what each must go through. It cannot work if the bottom expects the Top to administer a spanking how and when the bottom wishes even in the face of a lack of acceptance and submission. If you are looking for things to work exactly as in the stories folks I think you will be disappointed but if you are willing to enter a partnership and accept your role and responsibility and be an adult, then I can tell you it can work in the most wonderful ways that will surpass even the best fiction.

When I am being soundly thrashed this weekend with the foul taste of soap in my mouth I will keep this post in mind even as I protest and plead for it to stop!

The Escape. Part 2

Chapter 3

Amanda and Silver arrived back an hour or so later. The sun was setting on the horizon painting the sky a stunning mixture of orange, pink and grey. There was a slight breeze which carried the sounds of the sea and the last activity of the shore birds before dark. Amanda took a deep breath of the salt scented air before heading indoors.

She put a light under a pan of soup she had made earlier that day before giving Silver his supper. As Silver devoured his meal, Amanda gently stirred the soup. The aroma of chicken and vegetables drifted under her nose, her stomach made a gurgling noise in response, reminding Amanda that she hadn’t eaten since late morning. She cut a slice of fresh wholemeal bread from the local bakers and treated herself to a slather of butter. As she waited for the soup to heat through thoroughly she wondered about Sam and whether she had eaten. She didn’t normally worry about the eating habits of her guests but the woman did not look fit to cook for herself tonight.

Amanda made the decision to poke her nose in, just this once. She poured some of the soup into a flask, cut another slice of bread and made her way to Sam’s door.

Knocking softly on the door Amanda called ‘Hello? Sam? It’s Amanda from next door. I thought you might like some fresh soup.’

Receiving no answer she knocked again. She stood indecisively. Should she go in anyway? Would Sam be horrified at such an intrusion? Amanda chided herself for her indecision and opened the door as she continued to knock and call out. On entering the house she saw Sam on the sofa across the room, lying under the blanket she had left, very still and pale. For a horrible moment Amanda thought she was dealing with someone who was no more, until a gentle snore emanated from the recumbent woman. Amanda smiled at the noise and walked a little further into the room. She put the flask and the bread on the kitchen table. The open plan room was getting quite dark and was not very warm.  She turned towards Sam and took her time looking at the stranger in her guest house.  Blonde, short hair ruffled and in need of a wash. Smooth, pale skin, slightly puffy cheeks, not as tall as Amanda’s 5 feet 10 but not too much shorter, she had had to bend her knees to lie comfortably on the sofa. Her hands were placed on top of the blanket, long sleek fingers, no rings. She was not traditionally beautiful but Amanda thought that she was attractive, or rather that she would be with some colour in her cheeks.

Amanda quietly went over to the wood burner which she had already laid for the arrival of the next guest. She struck a match and watched the kindling catch and the flames lick upwards. Satisfied that she had done all she could and maybe should for Sam she left the house, closing the door quietly behind her.

When Sam awoke it was very dark, or it would have been had it not been for the flickering orange light from the now dying fire in the wood burner. The room was pleasantly warm and Sam lifted off the blanket and sat up. She noticed her stiff joints and stretched, yawning. Her mouth felt like a desert but surprisingly her head was clear. She walked over to the kitchen and fumbled along the wall for a light switch. Finding it she flicked it and the small space was brightly lit. It was spotlessly clean. It contained a small cooker, microwave, a deep Belfast sink and dark oak cabinets. Sam looked into a couple of the cupboards until she located a glass. She ran the tap and filled the glass with cold water and drank greedily before filling it for a second time. She took a moment to take in her surroundings. The stone tiled floor with tasteful rugs, the wood burner, small coffee table and small dining table, several lamps placed around the room. The cream sofa that she already knew was comfortable! A bookcase holding a number of paperbacks that Sam knew she would investigate later. She had a secret passion to trawl through other people’s book collections believing it gave a quick insight into the character of those who owned them. The overall effect was one of comfort. She wandered over to the wood burner and added a couple of logs which had been placed in a basket next to it.

Standing with her back to the fire to absorb the heat, Sam noticed the flask on the table for the first time. Opening it steam rose along with the delicious aroma of chicken. There was a slice of bread wrapped in cloth next to the flask. Realising that Amanda must have come in and left this and lit the fire for her, Sam blushed thinking of how she must have looked flat out on the sofa. The smell of the soup interrupted her thoughts. She had not eaten since early that morning and her body was now demanding some sustenance. She found a bowl and spoon in the kitchen area, sat at the table and began to eat.

The next morning Amanda was on her way to her van with Silver at her heels, to drive into college and her day’s work, when the door to the annexe opened and Sam emerged dressed in clean jeans and a sky blue T-shirt, her hair was wet from a recent shower. She smiled shyly at Amanda. ‘Good morning, I just wanted to apologise again for my rather dramatic arrival yesterday and thank you for the soup, it was very welcome.’ Amanda smiled at her guest and returned the greeting ‘Hi. You look a lot better. You are welcome. How are you doing?’   

‘Oh I am fine. I can’t imagine what was wrong. I was tired but I am not usually so easily felled!’ Sam tried to joke but Amanda saw that the smile did not quite reach her eyes. As they were speaking, Silver had wandered over to Sam and was nosing at her hand.

‘Silver, come here, manners boy!’ Amanda scolded him. ‘Sorry, he likes to know who his neighbours are’ Sam did not reply but gave Silver an uncertain look. She pulled her hand from his reach and folded her arms protectively around herself.

‘Oh he’s fine,’ Sam said unconvincingly

Amanda sensed her nervousness, ‘Not a dog person?’ she asked lightly.

‘Well…. I used to have a cat. I’m just not used to dogs I guess.’

‘Silver here is a big softy but he usually doesn’t bother with people much, he is permanently glued to my side. I even take him to work. Luckily the powers that be there are laid back enough to allow him to sit in my classroom.’ Amanda tried to reassure Sam that Silver would not be intruding on her person every minute.

‘You teach? Oh I thought the tourist centre said you were an artist.’ Sam asked curiously.

‘Oh, I am but I need to pay the bills and selling my work doesn’t always do that, so...the teaching gig. Actually I really like it. I have a good bunch of kids and we have fun learning together. The only part that I hate is the inevitable paperwork but every job has its downside I suppose.’ Sam suddenly looked down at her feet and seemed to shrink a little.

‘Well have a good day’ she muttered as she turned to go back indoors.

‘Thanks, you too. If you need anything just shout.’ Amanda said wondering what nerve she had struck. As Sam waved and went indoors shutting the door after her. Amanda opened her van door, Silver jumped in and she followed. As she pulled out from the drive and onto the narrow lane she was replaying her meeting with Sam. She had seen this woman for less than 15 minutes in total and yet she had to confess to herself that she couldn’t get her out of her thoughts. ‘No Amanda. No. You do not need to be thinking about this woman.’ She admonished herself but she argued back ‘I am just concerned. I am being a good host. It’s just business. Yep, it is just business…’

Chapter 4

Sam had steeled herself to speak to Amanda when she saw her outside. Having just showered and dressed she had told herself that she needed to apologise and thank Amanda but she was glad to see her outside and not to have to go and knock on her door.  She had taken a deep breath and gone out to speak to her. All had gone well until Amanda had spoken about work, then Sam had just felt the tightening in her chest again and had wanted to run. Thinking about it now, she had even enjoyed the chat until then. She had almost forgotten the nervousness she felt and the discomfort of speaking to a stranger. Back inside, the now familiar panic and anxiety had her gripped. She sat on the sofa and tried to calm herself.  After twenty minutes or so she started to feel a little calmer but exhausted. She could not understand this constant tiredness but then she couldn’t understand much of what she was feeling recently. She decided that she needed fresh air. Didn’t everyone say that exercise was good for anxiety? Not that she believed anxiety was really a problem for her, it was just  that she needed a holiday, she told herself.

Putting on her trainers and grabbing a jacket Sam went outside and quickly spotted the path which went off to the left along the cliff top. She began to follow it. Down below, the sea was crashing against the reddish, brown rocks. The air was cool and moist but not too cold. Breathing the clean, fresh air and taking in the beauty of her surroundings Sam began to feel calm and invigorated. She strode along the path relishing the isolation. Apart from sea birds she appeared to be alone. She set herself a brisk pace but regularly stopped to drink in the view. She began to get a little breathless and realised just how unfit she was, she couldn’t remember the last time she had worked out or done any physical activity other than walking through the office.  As she continued along the path she saw a beach come into view below her. It was completely empty apart from birds and waves washing the sand. It looked so inviting; Sam could almost feel the sand between her toes. She continued along the path until she found a steep, narrow track branching off down the cliff face towards the beach. Sam looked at the track warily, it was very steep and hardly an ‘official’ path. The track had obviously been made by the footfall of others who had wanted to venture onto the sand. She was pretty sure she shouldn’t attempt the descent but then again the empty beach was hard to resist.

Sam began walking timidly down the path. She knew pretty quickly that this was not the cleverest thing she had ever done. Her training shoes were not ideal footwear for the gravel and mud track. Her foot kept slipping forward and she had to steady herself by putting out her arms and holding onto tufts of grass. Despite this she managed to get most of the way down when both of her feet slipped out from under her. She cried out as she fell on her bottom and slid the rest of the way down to the rocks below. She landed hard on her right foot and felt a sharp pain radiating from her ankle up her lower leg.

Once the gravel had finished sliding past her and all was quiet, Sam tested her body to see what hurt. Both of her hands were stinging; she noticed grazes on both and tried to clean off some of the mud and grit by wiping them on her jeans. She tried standing and was relieved to find that she could put her weight on both of her feet so she figured nothing was broken. However, when she tried to walk, her right ankle protested with sharp waves of pain.  ‘Bloody hell!’ Sam shouted at herself, the wind carrying her profanity along the empty sands. She took a few more steps, wincing as she went. Looking around her she knew she wouldn’t be able to make it back up the cliff path. She looked along the beach and couldn’t see another path. Suddenly the isolation that she had been enjoying now seemed ominous. How the hell was she going to get back? Telling herself that she was an executive, a trouble shooter, a team leader, this should not be that difficult for her to figure out. Who was she kidding? She only had survival skills when she had a laptop and a mobile phone! She shouted out into the wind once more, filling her lungs and yelling for all she was worth. Anyone passing would not have been able to make out any words but would have heard a primitive scream of a woman who had had enough of the world, enough of herself, just enough, enough.

She plonked herself down on the sand and stared out to sea. The blue green water and the white foamy waves, the horizon that seemed to go on and on. She could not take her eyes from the view and for a few moments she considered how it would feel to walk into the water, just as she was now and to keep walking until she disappeared, until there was silence. As she thought this a strange peace settled over her.

She sat with her legs pulled up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic sound of the waves. She had been in pain for a long time, she admitted to herself. When had she last been happy? She honestly could not remember. There were times she had felt satisfied with the work she had done, pleased for the praise and promotion she had earned, but happy? No, not for a very long time. She could not remember a time when she wasn’t longing for something, searching for some elusive ‘thing’ that she could not name or visualise. The events of the past few years had compounded that feeling. Her father’s illness and death, so quick, so unfair, standing by his graveside feeling lost and unreal. He had always been there for her, always been her support and guidance. Her long term relationship with Patricia, ripped apart by the discovery of Pat’s infidelity, so soon after her father’s death, destroying what little sense of solid ground she had left. At the office she was in control, confident, sure and dynamic. Others looked to her for direction and she provided it; occasionally with a force that was intimidating. Sam felt a tear on her cheek as she thought of the ‘professional’ her. No-one would have guessed the emptiness she felt as she strode through the office, her well-tailored clothes providing a shield as effective as a suit of armour. But the armour was failing her, the last day in the office showed that, she could not continue the pretence of being that person. She was tired, so tired.  She thought once again of the oblivion that awaited in those dark, crashing waves.

She wiped her eyes noticing that she had begun to feel a little cold, the damp sand soaking the seat of her jeans. She also noticed that the sea was a little closer than it had been. She realised somewhat belatedly that the tide was coming in.  The reality of being swallowed by the waves was not as comforting as her dark thoughts. She felt very foolish and a little scared. How was she going to get off the beach? She began to hobble her way along the foot of the cliffs hoping to find a path to lead her home again. Each step she took was painful but the fear of being trapped on the beach with a rising tide was more urgent so she tried her best to ignore it. She shouldn’t have come down onto a beach without checking tide times or without letting someone know where she was going.

She had managed to make her way along the length of the beach but had yet to find a way off. She came to a rocky outcrop; the waves were already lapping at its edge. The only way around it was to paddle into the water. She considered taking off her shoes but she was beginning to panic and so waded in with her trainers and jeans in place and sloshed around the rock. As she made her way around the jagged rock, another beach came into view and to her relief a set of wooden steps were built into the cliff side. She laughed out loud and squelched towards the stairs. Now that the sense of danger had passed Sam was thoroughly embarrassed. What an idiot! Then a realisation hit her like a slap. I don’t want to disappear, I don’t want to die, I just don’t want to live like this anymore. Now, she needed to find the steps which would lead her out of her current misery and to a new life.

Chapter 5

It took Sam two hours to limp back to the house, tired, sore, dirty and wet. She had just arrived back when Amanda pulled up in her van. Sam groaned, she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her in this state. Amanda jumped out of the van a look of concern on her face; she was closely followed by Silver.

‘Sam! What happened?! Are you OK?’ Amanda rushed over to her absorbing the sight of this dishevelled looking urchin in front of her. Sam looked wet and cold, not to mention covered in mud. She was also limping quite badly.

‘Oh it’s nothing, just a little fall, I slipped it was really silly of me.’ Sam explained, leaving out all of the detail which would have told Amanda just how silly she had been. ‘My trainers slipped on the gravel, I need to get some shoes with a better grip.’ She tried to make light of it but could not help but grimace because of the pain from her foot.

‘Let me help you.’ Amanda moved to her side and put her arm around Sam’s waist ‘Lean on me. Come into my house I have bandages and what not’ Sam thought about declining the offer, not wanting to have to have a conversation or admit how the accident had happened to this attractive, confident woman. ‘Attractive? When did I start thinking of her like that?’ Sam surprised herself. She felt Amanda’s strong arm around her and inhaled her fragrance of soap, shampoo and oil paint. She had no strength left to argue so she allowed herself to lean on Amanda and be lead into her home.

They entered Amanda’s kitchen. It was cosy, the Aga throwing out a significant amount of heat. A large scrubbed pine table sat in the middle of the room and it was here that Amanda pulled out a chair and guided Sam into it.  She then knelt in front of her and began pulling off her sodden trainers, carefully. Even so, Sam groaned out loud as she removed the right shoe.

‘Really, you don’t have to do this, I will be fine.’ Sam began. As she spoke Amanda removed her wet sock and gasped. Her foot was swollen to twice its normal size and already it was black and blue.

‘Uh huh, yep you look fine.’ Amanda replied. ‘I really think you may have to see a doctor, this looks pretty bad. I think we should put something cold on it to help with the swelling.’ She began rooting in her freezer to find something suitable. She emerged with a bag of frozen peas. ‘Here we go, peas, just what we need,’ she smiled at Sam and knelt back down to press the ice cold pack on her injury.  

The initial cold made Sam mutter under her breath ‘shit’ but very quickly the cold provided some relief. She watched Amanda’s paint stained hands holding the vegetable pack. They were tanned, strong hands, with nails which were cut short but well-manicured. Sam decided she liked them. She moved on to Amanda’s thick dark curls which were also cut short and framed her square jaw and deep, brown eyes perfectly. ‘Attractive alright’ Sam thought ‘In fact you are quite a stunner,’ She realised that Amanda was looking up at her, a questioning look on her face. ‘Sorry, er,  did you say something?’ Sam stammered. Amanda raised an eyebrow and looked amused ‘I asked if it hurt anywhere else’

‘Oh God a perfect smile too!’ Sam inwardly groaned. Out loud she said ‘No, not really, just a few bumps’ she turned her palms upward and Amanda quickly took in the deep graze and scratches.

‘Wow, you really had a fall didn’t you? Just hold the peas while I go and get something to clean that wound with.’

‘I’m really OK. I should leave you to get on with your evening. I’ll go and take a shower and I will be fine.’ Sam tried to protest.

Amanda now looked at Sam somewhat incredulously. ‘You are not going anywhere on that ankle. Just sit still and wait for me. Back in a second.’ Her tone did not leave much room for argument. Sam was torn between allowing this woman to take care of her and being indignant at being told what to do. She was the one used to giving the orders and being in charge, no-one questioned her, even Pat had always looked to Sam to make most of the decisions that affected their daily lives. She wasn’t quite sure how to react to this dominant personality but she noticed that Amanda’s tone gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her tummy. The pain in her foot made the decision for her, she really couldn’t conceive of walking any further, so she did as she was told and sat and waited for Amanda to return.

Coming back into the kitchen Amanda carried some cotton wool, disinfectant, plasters and a bandage. She filled a bowl full of hot water and brought it to the table. Then she began to attend to Sam’s hands.

‘So you did all this just slipping on gravel on the path?’ Amanda asked.

‘Uh huh, yes’ Sam did not elaborate.

‘Hmm. I hadn’t realised there was that much water on the path to get so wet?’ It was a direct question and Sam tried to think of an answer which wouldn’t make her seem as irresponsible as she had been. Why did she care so much what this woman thought?

‘Well actually, it was the side path down to the beach that I slipped on. I fell down onto the rocks below and then saw the tide was coming in and realised I couldn’t get back up the rocks and so I had to walk along the beach but it got cut off by the waves so I had to paddle through the sea to get around the other side. But then everything was OK as there were steps to get off the beach.’ Sam blurted out whilst trying to look as dignified as possible.

Amanda paused her work on Sam’s hand and fixed her with a glare ‘You went down to the beach via that ridiculously steep and dangerous path? Then got caught by the tide?’ Sam felt like a child being questioned by the headmistress. She wanted to tell Amanda off, tell her it was none of her business. She straightened herself in her seat and tried to muster some authority in her voice. ‘Well, when you put it like that it does sound a little silly but all’s well that ends well. I should really go back next door.’ Sam began to try and raise herself from her seat. The peas which had been resting on her foot, fell to the floor as Sam tried to stand, faltering when the pain hit again. Amanda caught her by the elbow and helped her lower herself back into the chair. As her bottom touched the wood Sam winced realising that she must have also bruised her behind as she fell on it. ‘Ouch, that hurts’ Sam muttered as she tried to rub it. Amanda thought ‘Well that seems appropriate, I’d say she deserves a sore bottom after her silly behaviour today.’ Out loud though she made a vaguely sympathetic noise. Taking a breath she patiently said ‘I know you are a stranger here, I should maybe have warned you about being wary of tides. It is so easy to get cut off in some places, all doesn’t always end well unfortunately. We have had our fair share of tragedy along the coast, I’d prefer it if you weren’t added to that number.’ She smiled at Sam, her muddy, wet clothes and dirt smeared face actually made her look quite adorable. Amanda’s internal voice shouted ‘Oh, no you don’t Amanda Jane Naughton. No falling for the visitor from Up Country!’

Spanking as therapy?

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Two spankings

Apologies for my absence. Life is getting in the way of my writing at the moment. I dream of long afternoons in a quiet place to submerge myself in my stories but that is not happening right now. What is happening? Spankings!

I want to talk about 2 particular spankings because they are so different in nature. As part of our DD we use spanking for discipline of course but we also use them for stress relief and as part of our sex life. What differentiates the types of spankings is not necessarily severity, although that is sometimes the case, it is mind set. mine and PTs.

Last week we got home after a trip and opened up the mail that had accumulated during our absence. In the pile of letters there was a little bombshell that got my bottom well and truly warmed. The car insurance (yawn) for my car had been cancelled as I had failed to acknowledge the renewal letter. 'What renewal letter?' I asked innocently and indignantly. That was what PT wanted to know too as she angrily spoke to the man at the end of the line as she strode up and down the living room phone in hand. 'The one we sent you in January madam' he politely replied. And so the conversation went on.

Then I felt a slight cold staring in my tummy. Ummm there had been a few letters that I had put to one side without opening in a sort of can't be bothered, do it later sort of way. I trotted off upstairs and found the pile and quickly tore them open. There in all its officialdom was the renewal notice! We had driven around 700 miles on busy British motorways with no insurance because I, immaturely, didn't open the mail.

Some may have quickly destroyed said notice and feigned innocence but that is not how PT and I roll. So I sloped downstairs and presented the letter red faced to PT who was still on the phone.

I felt terrible. In the middle of all that is going on in our lives I had behaved like a child and done something silly and thoughtless which potentially could have caused us a lot of legal and financial trouble. PT was not happy as you may imagine. I was lectured and I apologised and I spent the next hour online fixing the problem, whilst PT went through the rest of the mail I had squirreled away to make sure there were no more problems.

You all know what happened next I am sure. I was upended over my beloved's knee with my pants down and was given a thorough and painful spanking along with another lecture. It hurt but when it was over I felt so relieved. There were no lingering bad feelings on either side. The incident was over, PT was sure I wouldn't be ignoring any mail anytime soon and my feelings of guilt were washed or should I say spanked, away.

Without DD, in my previous relationships such an issue would have festered and possibly lead to quarrels, it certainly would not have been dealt with so quickly and with some finality. I am not suggesting that this works for every incident in a relationship or even that it would work for this incident in anyone else's relationship but it works for us.

The next spanking was very different in nature. I occasionally struggle with mental health problems, particularly severe anxiety. It is debilitating and long standing and there are days when I really do not know what to do with myself. Yesterday was a bad day. I barely moved from my bed and spent much of the day clinging onto PT, my rock. As the evening drew near PT ran me a hot bath and gently coaxed me out of our bedroom. She is the most gentle and understanding of souls and stayed with me, chatting and encouraging as I soaked in the warm water. 'Nice bath my love?' she smiled 'Yes Sir thank you' I answered.

I do not call PT 'Sir' all of the time as we live in the real world and not a story :) however, when I do it signals many things to both of us. It means I need PT to be demonstrably in charge, that I am feeling particularly submissive or it is an acknowledgement to both of us that I am accepting PT's decision about whatever we are discussing. Hearing the honorific PT senses that there is something more that I need but when mental health is involved she is careful to check what is happening for me. I think it would be her nightmare to spank me when what I really needed was a hug and gentleness. She looked at me with a questioning raised eyebrow. 'I think I need to be spanked Sir please' 'Are you sure love?' I nod. 'OK my darling girl.'

We talk some more and then I get out of the bath, dry myself and we go together into the bedroom. I lay over her jean clad lap and she asks if I am comfortable, then begins to spank me with her hand. Softly at first, light taps all over my not unsubstantial bottom :). Then harder, louder slaps, becoming more stingy. She continues the spanking until I am making little yelping noises then she stops and rubs until the real sting has passed and then she begins again. She continues like this until my bottom is warmed and red, until my tense shoulders have relaxed, until my eyes grow drowsy with sleep. Eventually she stops, helps me to lay my head on my pillow, covers me with our duvet and kisses me goodnight. I am happy, safe, warm and the physical warm throb somehow helps to ease the emotional pain of the anxiety.

Thank you my Sir for both of these spankings which were much needed, deserved and cherished. I love you x

Red Tails

I am to be punished this weekend. I have been told that I am in 'big,big trouble'. The trouble is a culmination of a number of infractions over the past couple of weeks. We have not had a chance to do any punishment due to distance and a child in the house. This weekend though we have time and space.

The biggest infraction happened today when I broke a rule and was deliberately disobedient. It doesn't really matter which rule it was, the issue is more that I consciously chose to break it. I now feel horrible. Deliberate disobedience undermines the whole concept of our DD in my opinion.

I am not a brat. Bratting would not work in our relationship. I don't need to act up to be spanked, I can simply ask or more often PT just knows when I need one either for behaviour issues or stress. To brat would be disrespectful to us both. I am not a child and PT does not deserve a bratty bottom.

Our relationship works because we are equal partners. I choose to give my obedience to PT. She chooses to accept it and take on the task of taking care of me. We agree to rules and standards of behaviour. If I break our rules then it is my role to accept and trust that she will take care of it. She trusts me to respect her and tell her when I have misbehaved and to put my punishment in her hands.

So, a considered, deliberate breaking of rules is disrespectful to her and to our relationship. PT used to say to me 'Obedience is its own reward' now I understand that and agree with that and today I let us both down. The positive side of this is that I do feel bad. I am now totally at home in my role as a Bottom. I do understand that giving PT my submission and her acceptance of it is the most intimate and trusting of relationships.

This weekend I will be spanked extremely thoroughly, PT has already told me what is going to happen, it won't be fun for either of us but once it is over I know we will both feel better, equilibrium will be restored and we will move on.

I am a Bottom who makes mistakes and takes ownership of those mistakes and faces the consequences and for that I am thankful and actually a little proud too. :)

Loki's back!

For those of us who have been missing Loki's stories, she is back!

Sapphos Brats

I recommend buying the Rigel series if you haven't already.

I read 'Chasing Rigel' this morning, it was great being back in the company 
of these familiar characters.

 Enjoy!

The Escape

So here are the beginning two chapters of my first story writing as Pixie. I actually feel a little nervous! This is not a story involving lots of spanking, certainly not near the beginning of the story. I hope you enjoy it anyway, please feel free to offer me feedback.

I would like to thank my darling PT for her editing, suggestions and constant and consistent love and discipline. Love you Sir.

Pixie plays x

Chapter 1

Pulling out into the outside lane to overtake another caravan, Sam played out the scene once again in her mind. She remembered the unreasonable fury she had experienced when her assistant had failed to produce the data she needed for the monthly staffing figures report. She could picture the look on Clare’s face as she tore into her calling her incompetent and lazy. Shame and embarrassment coursed through her, how could she have lost her cool like that and been so unprofessional? Clare had been a steadfast and reliable colleague for many years, her mistake this month was an aberration and understandable given the weight of work they had all been under recently. David had overheard the whole thing and had immediately come to Clare’s aid and ordered Sam into his office.

Sam squeezed her eyes tightly and felt the tears threatening to spill once again. She saw a sign declaring that the motorway services were in 1 mile, so pulled in to enter the slip road. The car park was moderately busy. Large saloons with suited men and women sipping take out drinks and talking animatedly on mobile phones. A few caravans parked off to the side, peopled mainly with retired folks off for a break while the kids were all still in school. Sam found a vacant spot and parked the car. She sat staring out of the windscreen breathing deeply and willing the tears away. She was tired, deep down, bone and head tired. She put her head back on the seat rest and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again it was half an hour later. She ran her hands over her face and through her short, well cut, blonde hair. She grabbed her purse, locked the car and walked into the service station. She headed straight for Starbucks and ordered a large, vanilla latte. She looked at the sandwiches but her stomach lurched at the prospect of food. Grasping the latte she walked back to the car, not being able to face sitting inside in case she ended up having to have any sort of social interaction with a stranger, hell, with anyone. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since her ‘chat’ with David.

After his initial shock at her behaviour, David had in fact been very sympathetic and offered his understanding of the pressure of work Sam had been under and yet she had without fail, performed an outstanding job. His kind words had pierced the last of her defences and to her horror she had begun to cry. Right there, in David’s office! Not just cry; sob huge, wet, snotty, hysterical tears. Miss professional, came completely undone. Poor David had just sat there holding her hand, trying to say the right things. He had protected her from the eyes of her colleagues, keeping her in his office until she could leave for home unnoticed. Sam would be eternally grateful to him for a kindness she felt allowed her to maintain at least some dignity.

Trying to shake the images from her head she placed her coffee in the drinks holder, turned the radio onto a classical musical station, started the car and pulled back out onto the motorway. Now she was off the madness of the M6 and onto the slightly more pleasant M5, she was able to cruise smoothly. She sipped her coffee, enjoying the warmth but after several sips her stomach began to complain and cramp, too much caffeine and not enough food. “Well, shouldn’t drink and drive anyway, idiot!” her inner critic sneered at her. David had said he had no choice but to ask her to take some time off in which she could try and get her head together, have a rest. With luck, Clare would understand and not want to make any formal complaint about Sam’s behaviour.

So, here she was, heading south with a holdall thrown in the back containing just enough essentials for a few days away. She hadn’t given much thought as to where she was going. She hadn’t taken a holiday in over 5 years and then it had just been a long weekend in Yorkshire. Her only real holidays had been with her family when she was young. Then, every year the family had packed their tent and camping gear and headed off to Wales or Cornwall. Sam was headed to Cornwall now simply because it was the furthest away from Manchester, furthest away from her life, from her responsibilities; she didn’t yet realise she could not escape from herself.

She had written an email apology to Clare the day after her outburst but had not been able to bring herself to speak to her. She felt cowardly, but the thought of having to talk to her, or anyone else, literally made her shake. She looked at her hands on the steering wheel, her knuckles were white she was holding on so tightly. She made a conscious effort to try and relax her shoulders and arms; within minutes though the tension was back. She noticed that her head was beginning to throb too.  When she began to see light spots in her eyes and her nausea was increasing, she knew a migraine was inevitable. ‘Shit’ she muttered to herself. She had to get off the road before she felt its full force and was unable to drive any further. She saw a sign for Exeter services and pulled in and drove to the motel in the far corner, parking in front. She would have to get a room and sleep it off. She searched in her bag for her medication and swallowed them with the now cold coffee.

Sam woke on Sunday morning with her head still pounding. She had spent the previous night in the dark with a cold towel on her head, throwing up intermittently. An activity which proved futile since her stomach was empty, the resultant dry retching increasing the hammer at her temples. She stood up to find the room still spinning. She sat back on the bed and began to weep, overwhelmed with self-pity. Sam pulled herself together long enough to phone through to the motel reception and book herself in for another night, she then lay down and cried herself back to sleep.

When she woke the room was dark. She reached for her mobile and checked the time. 8.15pm. She lay still, to check how she was feeling. The headache was still there, she knew from experience that it may well hang around for another day or so yet but her vision was clear and the nausea had subsided, in fact she felt hungry. She walked through to the bathroom and threw cold water over her face. She looked at herself in the mirror; swollen, red eyes, sporting dark circles beneath. Her hair stuck up in every different direction. ‘I look old’ she thought as she widened her eyes, making faces to try and make the wrinkles, or what is it they call them? Oh yeah, laughter lines, disappear. She snorted at herself ‘Yep, you’ve been doing so much laughing recently, no wonder you look like hell’ as she taunted her reflection. She pulled on her jeans and shoes and went in search of food.

Monday morning traffic was pretty busy as Sam made her way back to the M5 and then onto the A30. After acquiring a sandwich from the service station shop the previous evening, she had listened to a book on her ipod and fallen back to sleep. When she woke in the morning she felt substantially better. A shower and another sandwich, cup of tea and a couple more painkillers and she felt like she could make the rest of her journey. Half way down the A30 Sam stopped at a petrol station to fill the tank. When she got out of the car she was struck by the freshness of the air and the surrounding quiet. The garage was surrounded by moorland. A slight breeze blew and white clouds moved gently across the sky. She took in a deep breath and then another. She had decided to head to Truro and maybe stay in a hotel around there. She imagined how horrified her mother would have been with the idea of taking off without having a plan and a place to stay already booked. Her mother used to begin packing for their summer holidays three weeks in advance! Sam valued spontaneity now in her personal life even if she was extremely organised and planned in the work place. If she had been honest with herself she was perhaps a little too haphazard in her personal life, maybe even a little neglectful of herself at times.

After paying for the petrol Sam began the last leg of her journey through to Truro. As she entered the city she could see the cathedral off to her left. It was quite a beautiful back drop to the city which would be little more than a town in the North. She had never driven around the city before. Her mother and father had been in the front seats last time she came here. Sam and her brother would have been squabbling in the back after the long journey down. She found a car park easily enough, locked her car and walked into the main street.

 

Sam began to march up the street in search of a tourist information centre. She was too busy to notice that other people were wandering at a more sedate pace, that the street was pretty much traffic free and overhead seagulls could be heard. It was a far cry from the frenetic activity of Manchester. However, you can take the girl out of Manchester but it seems you cannot take Manchester out of the girl. Sam’s usual purposeful quick stride was unaltered by the leisurely atmosphere of this unique place. Spotting a sign for the information centre she headed through its doors.

A young, cheerful looking woman stood behind the counter in the empty office. She greeted Sam with an upbeat ‘Good morning, can I help you?’ Sam was momentarily stumped. She hadn’t really thought about what exactly it was she wanted. She had thought a hotel was the answer but now the thought of dealing with more receptionists, maids and so on made her feel huge anxiety. She wanted to be somewhere that no-one would bother her.

‘I need somewhere to stay, somewhere quiet’ she said uncertainly. She paused and looked anxiously at the woman and repeated ‘really quiet’.

If the information officer, whose name badge declared she was called Meghan, thought this an unusual request she showed no sign of it.

‘Just for yourself?’ Meghan enquired. Sam nodded feeling conspicuous, a sad, single, mad woman running away from home.

‘May I ask what kind of place? A hotel, Bed and Breakfast? Maybe a cottage? We have some good deals on at the moment with it being off season.’

A cottage? Sam hadn’t  considered that. The more she thought about it the more appealing it seemed. She could get in supplies and not even have to open the door if she didn’t feel like it. She felt the woman watching her as she struggled with the simple decision.

‘A cottage, yes, that would be great, just for a couple of days though.’ Sam said firmly as if needing to assure this woman that she had no intention of taking anything like a real holiday.

‘Well the shortest let is usually at least 3 to 5 nights but to be honest the rates are so low at the moment even if you pay for a week and leave early it will still be less expensive than a hotel, if that is what you want.’ explained Meghan gently, sensing that her customer was uneasy.

‘OK, Yes that’s fine’ money was that last thing on Sam’s mind. One benefit for having devoted her life to work was that she was financially very secure. ‘I just need somewhere small and quiet’

‘Actually, we have had an owner on the phone this morning asking us to try and find someone for her small, one bedroom barn conversion.’

‘A one bedroom barn conversion? Must have been a small barn’ Sam muttered.

Meghan laughed ‘Well it is actually an annexe to the larger conversion. The owner lives in the attached home so she is on site if there are any problems.’ Seeing Sam frown, Meghan quickly added ‘Don’t worry she won’t bother you unless you need her, she is an artist so likes quiet herself.’ Satisfied she would be alone, Sam agreed to stay at Sea Crest Barn.

Chapter 2

Driving down a long and winding single lane mud track, Sam hoped that she wouldn’t meet any traffic coming in the opposite direction. Her Honda civic was great to drive on motorways but reversing down these tracks with the ever present danger of crashing into one of Cornwall’s apparent hedges which were actually stone walls covered in foliage, was not something she was ready to try yet. As the lane narrowed even further, Sam began to wonder if she was lost. Then, on the right hand side she saw a large, oval stone painted with the words ‘Sea Crest Barn’ and a small gap in the hedge. Sam made the tight right hand turn and was surprised to enter a large, flat, open gravel space surrounded by fields and beyond that the most breath-taking view of the blue green sea topped with white foam waves. Sam gasped as she brought the car to a halt and got out.

As she stood taking everything in; the view, the air, the stillness, the only sounds she could hear were the distant waves and seagulls overhead. The winter sun was shining in the blue, cloudless sky. The slight breeze was cool but not unpleasantly so. Sam could smell the salt of the sea and the damp earth surrounding her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. For a moment she was lost in the quiet and in the memories evoked by the scent of Cornwall; of childhood, of her parents, of times when she played and laughed. A sob caught in her throat. The beauty was overwhelming. When had she last noticed anything so wonderful?

Lost in her reverie, she did not notice the dark, curly haired woman dressed in jeans and a denim tunic standing outside the barn. Amanda was watching Sam with interest and saw the younger woman enjoying the view, no, more than enjoying, in fact she felt that she was intruding on a moment that was very personal and intimate. She looked away from Sam, wanting to give her privacy. She was used to guests loving the view but occasionally she would see someone deeply affected by it in a way that she could only describe as spiritual. When this happened it would give her a small thrill that someone else appreciated just what a special place Sea Crest was and Amanda silently said thanks again to whatever power had allowed her to call this her home.

After some minutes, Sam turned to look at the house and saw her host standing, looking off into the opposite direction. Feeling slightly embarrassed she took a deep breath and prepared herself for the ordeal of speaking to her. As Sam walked over to her, the woman smiled and held out her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Amanda Naughton you must be Samantha?’ Sam reached out and took the offered hand registering her warm, strong, grip as they greeted one another.  Amanda said ‘It is a fantastic view isn’t it?’ Sam smiled and nodded in agreement. ‘Yes it is lovely.’ She said but didn’t offer anything further and she avoided making eye contact with Amanda. It was taking Sam all of her strength just to stand there. She felt vulnerable, as if this stranger could see her anxiety. Sam could not understand her fear, what was wrong with her? She was finding it hard to breath and her heart rate increased. She began to sweat. She asked quickly ‘So where do I go? Is this the house?’ she gestured towards a small door at the end of the building. Sensing that Sam did not want to chat, Amanda became business like. She handed Sam the key.

They walked briskly into the house together. Amanda began to point out the relevant features and how the heating and hot water worked but Sam couldn’t hear her. A loud buzzing seemed to be coming from inside her own head. She began to breathe even more rapidly, feeling dizzy and sick. She wanted Amanda out of the way. She needed to ask her to leave ‘Please.’ she began before she blacked out and fell towards the floor.

Amanda was shocked. Sam was so pale and sweaty, she heard a very weak ‘Please’ before the  pretty, blonde woman crumpled like a rag doll in front of her. Amanda managed to catch her before she hit the floor and had no trouble lifting her onto the sofa. She placed cushions under her feet to raise them and went to the kitchen for a wet towel to put on Sam’s brow. She felt for her pulse and found that it was racing. That was pretty much as far as her first aid training would take her. She wasn’t sure what to do next. An ambulance? As she hesitated, Sam opened her eyes. ‘Oh God what happened?’ she groaned.  Amanda knelt beside her and put her hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. ‘You passed out. How are you feeling? Should I get you a doctor?’ Before Amanda could ask anything else or Sam could respond, the prone patient leant over the edge of the sofa and vomited.

An hour later Amanda was in her own house making herself a cup of tea. She had been a little shaken by Sam’s fainting spell or whatever it was. She had refused a doctor and apologised time and again for messing up the rug. Luckily Amanda had a strong stomach, having worked numerous summers in various caring roles. She had quickly cleaned up the rug, made Sam comfortable and got her to drink some water. She had stayed with her until some colour returned to her face and had left when Sam had insisted, obviously wanting to be alone. Amanda had been reluctant to go, concerned in case she passed out again. So much for getting a tenant who wouldn’t be any trouble!

She walked through the house to a room with an outside wall made entirely of glass. The winter sun streamed in and illuminated her large work table which was strewn with papers which were filled with sketches. Amanda picked up the work she had been engaged in all morning. It was a commission to sketch an owner’s beloved dog from a photograph. It was not her passion but it brought in some money which was sorely needed. She sipped her tea and considered every aspect of the shading. Once finished, it would be hard to tell the pencil drawing from the photograph, her work was so lifelike.

During the academic year she taught part time at the local college but she did not get paid during the summer months so she had to make as much money as she could whenever she could to get her through. The mortgage on the house was small as she and her sister had inherited it from an aunt and Amanda had only to pay her sister for her half. Joanne was a senior Civil Servant in London, she had had no interest in living in Cornwall or even visiting for holidays, so had happily agreed to let her sister buy her out. Amanda sometimes wondered if they really were blood relatives, they were so different, but she had been glad to have this place to herself. She loved the isolation and a view which changed every day. It was only a ten minute walk to a cliff path, which, although steep, was a safe way down to the beach below. Tourists rarely found their way to the small, secluded patch of sand and Amanda often had the place to herself, well, her and her faithful mutt, Silver. The curly, grey haired dog was six now and they had been together since he was eight weeks old. At the moment he was stretched out by the window in the sun. He lifted his head when Amanda entered the room and wagged his tail before flopping his head down and going back to dreamland.

Next door, Sam was still lying on the sofa feeling devastated. She was so embarrassed. She felt as though she was humiliating herself at every turn. Simply speaking to someone had become something beyond her. It was ridiculous, she was used to leading a national team, public speaking came naturally to her; as soon as she put on her suit she was Samantha Johnson, Equality Director. She was respected and she knew she intimidated many although she tried hard not to, her sheer passion and strength of will left others in awe.  Now, she lay here, alone, feeling ill and not having a clue what was happening to her and unable to do anything but cry or sleep. What the hell Amanda must think of her, Sam shuddered. She pulled the blanket Amanda had given to her, further up to her chin and closed her eyes. At least when I am sleeping I don’t have to think and with that she began snoring quietly.

Amanda finished her tea and looked out of the window. The sun was beginning to sink; it would be dark soon. She should check on Sam, but didn’t want to pry. She wasn’t sure what to do. Usually she just let her guests get on, without any interference from her, but Sam was alone and she was ill or something. She whistled to Silver, ‘Come on boy let’s catch the last daylight’. He got up and stretched and trotted over to Amanda’s side. The two of them made their way outside and began to walk along the cliff path. Silver went to the beach path but Amanda decided this evening’s walk would be a little shorter. For reasons she could not quite identify she did not want to be too far away from her new tenant.