How Red is my Bottom?

In an effort to relax I decided to avoid television and do some reading. A Kindle is a lovely toy to have when you are a bookworm like me. I did manage to read the latest Terry Pratchett, Lee Childs, Kathy Reich books, I downloaded a couple of ghost and vampire stories and finally got around to read a book about the Broadmoor Lunatic Asylum – I was in my element. I normally do not bother with erotica, but in a mood to try something different, I also downloaded a couple of   spanking romances.

Some of them were poorly written with no storyline, but in between, I did find two or three books that really was worth the while. The formula is quite simple – sort of a Mills and Boon recipe with some spanking and sex added. Stubborn and cheeky girl that is forever in trouble, meets imposing, larger than life and very strict male – that invariably also seems to be rich, and sooner or later, normally sooner, she lands over his lap – and in his bed.

BDSM was incorporated in a few, spanking as part of sexual foreplay in another, but Domestic Discipline was reflected in most of the books I read, even though, each author’s interpretation was quite different from the next. And this is where I found myself responding and reacting to these books, either telling the guy that he can go and erm...stuff himself, or having (blush!) a “OMG!!” complete with butterflies in the stomach feeling.

I know that it is all different strokes for different folks...no pun intended, but definitely included in my  “I do not think so!” list would be things  being sent to bed at a certain time, or having my  internet or television privileges “removed”. Oh, and a raised voice? Armageddon will arrive in her finest fury...truly!

On the “Depends on how much trouble I am in” list, I will most likely, but not quietly either, submit to demands such as having to stand in a corner although I am not sure about the bottom on display thingy though.

The “OMG!! Some serious butterflies in the tummy” list? Having to answer a simple question of “Why are you here?” while you already over his lap, or fetching and delivering the implement of his choice (in a structured way – erm...not thrown across the room...), being made to wait in position, that promise made quite clearly and softly in a public place, taking you home to fulfil said promise...well, I think it is suffice to say that one definite reaction (but definitely not the only one) is a bottom that tingles quite deliciously in anticipation.

Now, if I could only get HH to hurry back from his damn holiday!!


T'was a slight hiccup and an ex...

After having to live in the same house with my ex for three years after our split, we managed to sell the house, which by the way, was on the market for the same period.

The joy of finally selling the house was soon too replaced by utter chaos. I was dealing with a buyer which had taken upon himself to become the “expert” in everything and at the same time, tried his hand at every given moment to change or amend the sale...totally disregarding the contractual obligations.  In the end, it took a very polite attorney letter for him to realise that I am neither a pushover nor an idiot. The ex’s contribution to all this? Absolutely nothing.

Then came the packing up and selling of the content within the house. It was not exactly the smallest house on the block, and it took me two exhausting months to clear out a five bedroom house. The ex’s contribution? Nothing again.
A couple of other details had to be seen to as well. The roof had a leak that needed to be fixed, the garden had to be sorted out, an electrical compliance certificate had to be obtained...and again, the ex did not surprise me. No contribution whatsoever.
However, at the height of everything I was told that there is no understanding why I am so stressed or worked up about everything. Have you ever had those moments that you could actually see your hands around someone else’s neck? My language use I have to admit paled in comparison to what Uncle Nick had to say, and although my mother tends to stay away from the more descriptive type of words, she was in full agreement with him.
HH though had the “pleasure” of dealing with a very unsettled and grumpy Raven Red. I am thoroughly convinced that my rather striped and very tender bottom at times, was the most important factor that prevented the very untimely demise of the ex.
Fortunately it is all over and done with now...I have moved out, and for the first time in nearly two months, I have time for myself again. However, there is the flip side of the coin...I no longer have valid excuses NOT to visit HH more frequently, of which I have been casually informed that I am in need of (see the rolling of eyes)... Oh, and the ex? Rhett Butler said it perfectly; “Frankly, my dear, I do not give a damn”


Piano Lessons

Getting ready for a lesson...

or on her way to face the music...
perhaps both?


Zebra Crossings

I had a look at my bottom in the mirror this morning and they are still neatly striped thanks to HH's enthusiasm with the cane on Monday...

Seeing that it is nearly thirty degrees again today, and I will be spending the day in a swimming pool, I am frantically trying to think of excuses if anyone might question the zebra crossings on my rump.

What I do know is that I should inform HH that stripes should rather be displayed like this...prettier and far less painful...


Love our Lurkers Day

(A huge thank you to Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts)

Dearest Lurkers,
It always leave me with a smile,
when I see that you came along and lingered for a while, 
When you do pay me a visit...

You might find me laughing, or in a teasing mood
Not cheeky - I am never, ever cheeky...
I am sure you will agree. 

Or I might be in a state of rebellion -
most likely because I was judged to be cheeky or insolent...
Really? Me? 

You might come along and see that I have once again landed myself in hot water.
I have been told that I have a natural born talent for being in trouble...
I have no idea what they mean...

Invariably, somewhere along your visits, you might find me in quite akward positions,
with my bottom undergoing some changes in status.
Something along the lines of red, sore and rather tender...

Oh, and at times, you will find me sulking - slightly sarcastic even,
lamenting about how misunderstood I am,
normally around my definitions of cheeky, rebellious and insolent..
and quite often about my problems in being able to sit down.

But whoever you are, and wherever you are from...
I appreciate your visits more than what you would really know.
And if for today only, you would like to leave a comment
I would really love you to do so...
(Erm...even if only to agree that I am NOT cheeky...ever!)



I left my office shortly after five yesterday afternoon for my meeting with HH. I had a brief conversation with him a couple minutes before that, wanting to confirm that the appointment is still on. He answered my question with a question: "Do you think that you want to keep the appointment?” He knew that given the chance I would have wanted to opt out, but that little question took away any escape routes I might have considered. I tried for a clever retort; "Yes is the correct answer, but No features quite a bit as well" but his response was just as quick: "Yes No then".

True to myself, I was trying for a way out, but I realised that there was not much of an option, and that this appointment should be kept. He knew it as well and by understanding me rather to well, he was gently directing me towards total submission – a simple acknowledgement that I will report to him as was agreed. On my arrival, he did not waste much time. We had our chat, albeit much shorter than usual, and when he uttered the dreaded “Right, let’s get down to business”, I did not argue. I must admit when he reached for the cane, a couple of words were muttered, which dried up drastically when he threatened to take out the paddle.

Bent over, waiting with a bared bottom, I could feel that panic was close at hand. The last time I could barely manage six strokes, and I knew that this time, he will not stop at six. However, instead of receiving that first searing stroke, HH started striking my bottom with quick and light strokes gradually increasing the intensity...and then, that first hard swish of the cane could be heard, but before I could even draw a breath, the cane was back, quick and rather harder little strokes warming my bottom all over. This was, I soon found out, to be the format of the caning.


I started dreading the tapping in-between the hard strokes...never I have been so alert, so tense – on tenterhooks, not sure when I would feel the deep line of fire across my cheeks. There was no format to the taps (that I might add, grew a little bit stronger in force as time went pass) that I could accurately anticipate the hard strokes. And, the little quick taps started to add to the soreness; it was as if they were sealing in the deeper strokes...my bottom soon felt as if it was on fire!

I have no idea how many strokes I did receive in the end (I lost count after twelve), but I do remember staring at the yellow files on the desk, trying hard not to cry...for I did not want to get his files wet, and my bottom was hurting so badly that I could not summons the energy to move them out of the way. Although I slept on my stomach, and had (and still do) some problems in sitting comfortably today, I am calmer, more relaxed and reacting to the world in a much softer way...

Thank you, HH.



Between a Dentist and a Spanker...

I managed to break a tooth yesterday, which for most of last night left me scrounging around for any pain medication that might alleviate the fire in my face, whilst fervently praying for daybreak so that I could visit a dentist. The fact that I absolutely fear a dentist, diminished with the pain - agony was a clear winner over any misgivings of looming needles that will "only be a small prick" (yes sure!) and shrieking drilling machinery in my mouth.

As is habit, I performed my early morning messenger greeting to HH - who in turn had read my blog posting for Saturday, where I SO very nicely declared my absolute need to be spanked. Obviously, the gentleman that he is quickly offered me a spot for later in the day - which would have turned out to be three hours after my dentist appointment. As I rolled my eyes at myself, I thought that it can only be me - without any great effort or difficulty, I again had put myself between a hard place and a rock. However, I totally forgot about the bit of space between the two...

An internal argument immediately started raging about which fear was conquering which - reporting to the dentist and leaving with a sore mouth, or reporting to HH and leaving with a sore bottom. In this process, my thought processes took a definite knock, and my small little comment (that should have not been uttered at all!) about hoping that he would be able to ensure that I remain in place, and not opt out as before, resulted in a conversation that made me totally forget about the dentist, his needles and the drill.

A rather detailed informative session followed mentioning words such as ropes, spanking benches, dungeons, St Andrew's cross, oh, and a tree...(rather do not ask). As my eyes widened, and nervousness left me quite wordless and unsure what to reply, I inadvertently took a sip of very hot coffee, totally forgetting that it should stay away from the left side of my face. The pain was short-lived, and the quick flash of fear when remembering about my upcoming dentist visit was brief - I had more important things to panic about! Somehow my glib little utterance was interpreted as an invitation, therefore accepted and I was the recipient of the RSVP.

I must be honest, I could not think of one thing to say in order to retract the "invitation" and back out gently without being detected...I still will have to work on that. Currently it is taking the form of a formal pledge to stay in place, not move and so on...It did appear though that the gods above took some mercy on me - HH postponed the spanking until tomorrow afternoon, but as I left for the dentist, the gods gleefully displayed their perverted sense of humour again. I received this last little message from HH..."Had an additional thought – thinking about making a birch from the willow tree in my garden for tomorrow". I wonder if I would be able to schedule another dentist’s appointment - perhaps for the whole day?

Open Drawers

 He tells you that he thinks you should get yourself a pair of open drawers....

You can admire your bottom anytime - happy for all those hours in the gym.

Uncertainty whether his request for you to bend over is based on the same admiration.

It was not! All you have left is a sore and red bottom due to unrestricted access.

Open drawers are lovely,
however their safety record in terms of bottom preservation is quite appalling.
So, in answer to his request, 
I think I will opt having the attitude of the lady at the till ...


Knowledge and Wisdom

Difference between Knowledge and Wisdom?

Knowledge is acquired when realising that a spanking leaves your bottom red and sore....

Wisdom is the realisation that a concerted effort should be made to invest in chairs with a specific focus in soft seating designs...



The refusal to submit to any form of spanking for a two-month period born out of a spurt of stubbornness had led to a very short lived caning last Sunday, with me opting out at the first opportunity given. It is amazing how well HH knows me by now - he did state that the effect of the caning will only last for a couple of days. We had a tentative appointment scheduled for yesterday afternoon; however, HH had to cancel due to an important meeting.

I was not overly perturbed about it, in actual fact, I was having such a fun day yesterday, that the cancellation seemed not to matter very much. Or so I thought. Last night while chatting with Uncle Nick the first symptoms appeared. A feeling of discontent, slightly irritated with the world slowly started creeping over me. As the night wore on, things progressively deteriorated. As much as what I tried to curb the flow of conflicting emotions, it was of no use - I became more and more withdrawn, unsettled and restless.

I love to make bold statements when defiant; I will quite adamant declare that I do not want or need to be disciplined, I will be quick to point out that I do not want or need any sermons and I will vehemently argue that I do not want or need to be spanked. However, I find it quite ironic today that having being saved by the bell from a spanking yesterday, and should really be jubilant about my bottom being unharmed, I find myself instead craving for it with every fibre in my being.

I want and need to hear a stern voice saying the words that do not come with any other option but to obey, for that redirects me back to where I should be. I want and need to be disciplined, shown where the boundaries are yet again, for that is what calms and releases the stress within me. I want and need to be told to bend over, that I will be spanked, regardless of what I might or might not say for that is when I know I am no longer in control. I want and need that that wonderful/awful emotion when anticipation mixed with fear rise up in me as my knickers is lowered for that is then, that I know that I am beyond the point of no return. I want and need to be spanked.


I would rather...

It had been quite a rough week, and upon waking up early on Saturday morning to a beautiful summer's day, brought some quietness to my soul. That was, until the phone call.

"Morning, Raven. Are you still suffering from the flu?"
"Morning Mom, no I do have a sore throat, but it is definitely on the mend."

"I want to talk to you about something....BUT, if you laugh, I will personally kill you next time you come to visit"
I knew whatever was coming, was going to test my levels of self control!

"You do realise that old people have sex?"
I barely managed the "Yes", as I could feel my eyes widening and a hysterical giggle attack looming. Pinching my leg did do the trick to keep it at bay, however, with a sinking feeling in my stomach I realised that this conversation was going to be extremely uncomfortable.

"You also realise that with my back problems, I do have a problem in that area?"
Oh yea gods - I am a visual person - and the images conjured in my mind....

"I bought a book that I showed to your Dad, which by the way has left the house for a walk in the garden. He does not want to hear me talking to you about this"
Thanks Dad! Thank you so much!

"So, as I was saying, I read this book, and I have decided to ask you if you could please buy me a vibrator."
I could not breath, I was pinching my leg so hard that I was blue for days...but I did manage a very composed - well I think it was rather nicely composed and calm - Yes, no problem".

Erm, Mom - what size do you prefer?
"It comes in sizes?"

An even lenghtier silence...removal of hand from mouth with clear teethmarks visible, followed with a discussion that I really do not want to get into again.
"Do you need to get batteries? Or do you plug it into the wall?"

That was it! Images of my seventy year odd old mother being attended to by paramedics due to electrical shock caused by vibrator use...

In the end, the vibrator was bought, delivered, batteries inserted and the practical application thereof explained - in theory only! In a country where anything sexual is still very much a taboo subject, and conservatism still rules the house, my gratitude and a huge thank you to the ladies at the Lolamontez shop in Sandton. At least I was saved from the ordeal of a sleazy sexshop with a gum chewing, disinterested person behind a counter...

However, I have realised that I would really and truly prefer bending over for a severe thrashing with the cane before ever having to have another  conversation "about the birds and the big, bloody artificially created humming bees" with my mother...especially where I am allocated the role of the sexpert!


Another learning

Okay. I have made a note to myself. Never, ever will I ever again allow a nearly two-month period between spankings or in this instance a caning. The overdue interest manifested itself in a way that even took me by surprise.

As I was driving early on Sunday morning to HH's offices, I was trying my utmost not to think of what was coming. Not that it worked very well, I was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs - except - my tail was going soon going to be in the firing line of a swishing cane.

I was in no disagreement that the caning was required; in general my decline in good behaviour had reached a stage where even I was getting quite fed-up with myself. I was well aware that bottoms (well, mine) should be turned a shade of red. What I did not take into consideration was how said bottom reacted after quite an untouched state.

Bent over, bottom bared and eyes firmly closed - the first stroke of the cane sent a shudder through my entire body. Rebellion! Although knowing better than to straighten up, or to grab at my bottom, I did stamp my foot and seeing that a good foot stomping should be accompanied by some noise - I did revert to some muttering of not a very ladylike kind.

By stroke three I could feel the perspiration trickling down my back and although I would love to say that it was the summer heat - I was not happy, but my bottom was even in an unhappier place. At the fifth stroke I did ask very hopefully if it was not already number six, but alas...

Six strokes of the cane later, with me very gingerly holding onto my bottom, HH looked at me quizzically - and then stated very quietly: "This should hold you for a couple of days, but I will be seeing you in a week." Cheeks galore! I am not sure whether my bottom will be ready! Six lines were prominently displayed for a day or two, but yea gods, I will have to have a serious talking to my rear anatomy. It rather does appear that the holidays are over…and in any event, Christmas is coming- canes and red stripes are good. Aren’t they?


Spank or Treat?

Personally, I would prefer the treat bit,
The spanking part scares the knickers right off me...
For those readers who do the Halloween celebrations...enjoy!


Weather Forecast


A wonderful thunderstorm over Johannesburg had resulted in some rain lasting most of Friday night, resulting in much cooler temperatures and a very pleasant Saturday.

However, the forecast for my Sunday morning rather looks a bit bleak.

My posting of yesterday has resulted in a cold front emanating from the offices of HH. Frost was definitely detected in the excessive heat warning issued to me. Further advisory was received that early on Sunday morning, my bottom will be suffering some unusual warming, something similar to the El NiƱo phenomenon. Apparently this will be due to a localised high pressure system focused on both cheeks during the downpour from either the cane or the paddle, or perhaps both.

Wonder if I would be able to take a rain check?


Heat waves

We are currently in the throws of a heat wave, I had been stuck in a hot and stuffy room for two consecutive days attending a conference, AND it has been two months since my bottom was  significantly warmed up in quite another way...

I am definitely starting to show symptoms of the "Spanking Way overdue" Syndrome.
  1. Loud and impatient clicking of the tongue at any given topic.
  2. Rolling of eyes with hands being thrown into the air.
  3. Short, clipped sentences dripping with sarcasm.
  4. Deep, heavy sighs that could be accompanied with a slow side-to-side shake of the head.
  5. Impatient tapping of foot or fingers, could also manifest as hands on the hips, slightly leaning forward to ensure that body language could not be mistaken for anything else than what it is.
  6. Muttering, utilising language that would make a sailor blush centred on a theme of clarifying the different definitions of "idiot".
  7. Significant increase in the use of words, such as "NO!", "I will not", "I do not care", "Whatever" and "Make me".
  8. Temper tantrums. Lots of them. Really, lots and lots of them.
Therefore, I do believe in the very near future, I am going to experience another heat wave, of a more close and personal kind...



We are having wonderful summer weather, however,
When I said that I am in need of a tanning session...
THIS is what I meant...

and NOT this!


Five Lies

According to an magazine article I read, which were written for women by a woman, women tend to tell five little white lies to men.  Therefore, apparently while lovingly staring into his eyes, I will adoringly state that:

1. I love his family
2. I never think about my ex
3. I will never ever bring up old arguments
4. That size does not matter
5. And I really want sex.

Erm...in my reality, those little white lies are slightly different. While staring at him pleadingly with big innocent eyes, making sure that my bottom is well out of reach (or at least trying to keep it out of reach) I will vehemently state that:

1. I did not pull a face or mocked his tone of voice during yet another sermon.
2. I am not being cheeky and insolent.
3. I never backchat or argue a point when I know he is right.
4. I never, ever sulk.
5. I have NO idea what happened to his cane, slippers, tawse, belt, and paddles.

And the one thing I never lie about?
I really want sex (even with a sore and red bottom)!


Spanking Days

Monday's spanking turns her bottom pink and tender,
Tuesday's spanking seems so much harder and longer,
Wednesday's spanking leaves her full of woe,
Thursday's spanking is given at a tempo ever so slow,
Friday's spanking leaves her with glowing cheeks so sore,
Saturday's spanking makes her plead “No more!”,
And as she cups her bottom after the spanking given on the Seventh Day,
She is reminded to be good in every way.


Everything that can go...

It was not as if I did not want to write for the blog, but Mr Murphy and his stupid laws came into full force these past couple of days. On Sunday night I lost hours of sleep. Pure panic after hearing a noise at one in the morning resulted in a loaded gun being taken out and an absolute refusal to even consider switching my bedside light off. Of course, my totally erratic, slightly hysterical interpretation of various noises as signs of the imminent doomsday approaching, left me rather bleary eyed at work.

Monday night after a brief stop at a petrol station, I lost my laptop, cell phone and camera. A change of ownership happened although this owner was not quite involved in the agreement part of all this. Review of the CCTV footage reflected that the theft took a mere three minutes. Uncle Nick had to deal with a very "out of it" Raven, in actual fact, I cannot quite recall the first conversation I had with him...but I do remember crying my heart out.

Tuesday afternoon I lost my voice. I truly became the Hoarse Whisperer. So there I was, I had no phone, had a battle to get the spare laptop in a working condition (I think it was the shock that made me forget passwords), was not feeling to great in the health department, and on top of it - was in another city, away from my home comforts.

However, I am happy to report that I am back home and have slightly progressed in supressing the desire (if they catch him) to hand one opportunistic shopper's bottom over to a couple of people I know in these parts of the world. Oh, and although my voice is still missing in action, I am not complaining - I think its absence sort of guarantees the safety of my bottom for now.



Favest Spanko Pic of All Time

I absolutely love the images that Red Charls captures,
but between all his stunning photos, this one remains my favourite.

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Raven Red by Raven Red is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.