I am angry

I am angry...
I am angry at an illness that came uninvited, invading my body, whether I wanted it or not.
I am angry at an illness that refused to go away when I wanted it to, to disappear into thin air, as if it was never there.

I am angry because I had to confess that I did hide the severity of the symptoms from you, because of my own reluctance to go and seek medical help.
I am angry because as much as what I try to evade the truth, I can barely manage to hide it or conceal it. In the end, I always pull it out – to show you, confess to you, of what I have done or not done.

I am angry that you wanted me to explain why I did what I did, when I barely understand it myself.
I am angry that even though I did try, I knew that nothing I said could justify any of it.
I am angry that you saw my pitiful arguments and reasons put forward for what it was, nothing more than empty words trying desperately to deflect away from my own stubbornness and silliness.

I am angry that you are not going to let this one slip by, your calm voice telling me what will be, your logic and arguments closing every avenue of escape I could think off.
I am angry at my helplessness to stop the scribbling of a pen on paper, knowing that even with the months in between, this will only be between you and me.

I am angry that when the day arrive, I will have to crawl over your lap and feel your hands lower my panties,  for a punishment now recorded according to date and time.
I am angry that when my bottom will burn and turn red from your hand and a tawse, and when I squirm and want it all to stop, I will be reminded of this day.

I am angry, because I know that you are right.
I am angry...with myself.



However, not long afterwards......

Raven's Need a Spanking Award 3

 During the recent floods in Australia, two teenagers, for some idiotic, thrill seeking reason decided to ride a swollen river, using none other than blow-up sex dolls. Things did go slightly wrong, as the female lost her hold on the doll, and was found clinging to trees, whilst waiting to be rescued. Her partner, and his doll, remained with her until the rescue efforts were completed.

The police was understandably not amused, and the couple received quite a stern lecture including a sermon regarding the use of “recognised" flotation devices.

Raven's Notes:
I do acknowledge that the couple was beyond any acceptable levels of intelligence, and understand the absolute irritation the police, alongside rescue workers must have felt, at their time being wasted, while others were in real need.
However, the use of the word “recognisable” might have not been the wisest.
Erm...there is no mistaking in recognising a very pale pink, naked, open mouthed (inter alia), air-filled, latex female-shaped device....

The Need a Spanking Award goes to:

ALL the Tops that had rolled their eyes upon realising that it was the female that lost her doll!  


Nobody knows the trouble I foresee...

It was suppose to be a quiet Saturday morning, nothing hectic planned, no stress foreseen, nothing - butterflies, birds, honey and trickling water were suppose to be theme of the day. However, I did forget that it seems I am direct descendant of Mr Murphy, and that all his laws and some more, seem to apply, in full, to me. It is now late afternoon, and I have yet to speak to Uncle Nick, however, I can see one dreaded moleskin notebook making an appearance...erm, maybe I should tell him now that he might need more than one.

Strike one – Delaying doctors visit for no good reason except own stubbornness.
First visit this morning was to my doctor, who by the way, I have been avoiding for the past week, although I am as sick as a dog, and have been running a fever for the same time.
 “Do you always HAVE to wait until you are literally at death’s door, young lady?” (Jeepers, what is it with this young lady business?)
“What do you mean you do not want the injection in your bottom? Does it look that I am giving you a choice? The fever needs to be brought under control”
The look that accompanied that sentence, whilst waiving a syringe and one evil looking needle my direction, effectively resulted in no further arguments. However, quick thinking was required to put the bottom cheek forward that no longer reflects caning stripes. In his mood, he might have wanted to refresh them....

Strike Two – Lying and buying stuff because of the guilt
Next stop, the Chinese woman and her needles. It has to do with lymph nodes etc, but halfway through the procedure, already quite naked lying on my back, the request was received that she needs access to my back. But, the backside, especially the bottom still rather reflects quite a bit of bruises, and a couple of cane tracks...therefore quite a couple of blatant lies were provided why I could not lie on my stomach.  

I left with a abdomen that feels as if it is attached to my spine,  I have four  needles in each ear that must be removed, one per day over the next couple of days....and because of my guilt lying to the nice lady, I also bought  some “may-day-sin”. Apparently, it will be good for my digestive system...

Strike Three – High Speed Driving , while yelling and talking on cell phone
Coughing and spluttering, holding onto a stomach that had just endured needles, vibrating needles at that, I was on my way to collect the monthly 15kg cat food bag. With a friend in the car, sending text messages on her phone, I was patiently waiting at a traffic light, when two hands enter the car through the open window next to my friend, plucked her cell phone neatly out of her hands, then hands and body ran to a waiting car on the highway, got in and took off.

 Blame it on the needle being waved in my face, and the other ones stuck into my stomach, but I saw RED. With Uncle Nick talking to me on the cell phone, whilst I am driving and yelling at some idiot to get out of the way, I was in pursuit of the thieves. Forty kilometres further, after driving at about 150km/hour and weaving in between cars travelling rather a bit slower, I admitted defeat. Okay, fine – I had no more petrol left to do this exercise. I was asked the question when arriving home, what exactly I was planning to do when I did catch up with them....erm, I did not think that far ahead, but I am sure I will have thought of something incredibly stupid to do...

Therefore, I am now going to quietly retire, to offer some serious prayers to the deities above, that Uncle Nick on his return from his shopping expedition would have had hundreds of young ladies smiling at him...

Because nobody knows the trouble I foresee...


Bottoms Up - It is Friday!!

.I can now finally say it is Friday!
It has been an awful, long week.
I got ill and was in bed on Monday,
with a bottom still sore, ever so meek.

Tuesday I opted to work from home,
surrounded by tissues, and with a temper rather short,
a side effect of cabin fever syndrome,
with conversations literally being nothing more than a derisive snort.

On Wednesday, I went off to work,
with a tender bottom reminding me of all my woes.
Bumped into my favourite and obnoxious jerk,
the day was rather long and full of lows.

 On Thursday I was in full-out rebellion and sick
of my sore bottom, tight chest and coughing - I had enough.
A barbed comment or two flung at Uncle Nick,
earned me a warning and quite a sharp rebuff 

And so it is finally Friday.
I am still at home, and although I am still slightly ill.
I will be very honest when I say that today;
I would rather be spanked than to take another pill

So I raise my glass of orange juice in the air
To firmly declare: "Bottoms Up" all of you
Here is to next week, and even a bottom bare
Hopefully for a wallop or two, a spanking long overdue!!


Raven's Believe It or Not

In my quest to find photos and pictures for the blog, I sometimes come across some items that either tickle my sense of humour or leave me gobsmacked...

Why is her posture that of a Zombie?
And if I am in a nudist colony, trust me, heavenwards is NOT where I am going to be looking...

I imagine if you have consumed enough of the product, you will
a) be needing someone to clean your floor
b) be seeing anything from pigs with purple wings to women magically appearing,
cleaning your floor,
whilst conversing in a thick Russian accent...

Cannot decide what scares me the most - the worms,
or the little notice in the corner that says: No baths.
Erm...and how do you sanitise worms?

I absolutely DARE anyone to say that to me!

Sorry boys, my little spell of having a bout of bronchitis has resulted in the local stock of tissues being depleted...
maybe try wet wipes...


Coffee over at MarQe's

If I survive the bronchitis, I am planning to pay another visit to the UK in about five month’s time. I am looking forward to the mushy peas, the steak and ale pie, but the brewing of leaves in a pot, will once again, be firmly declined.  

 There is no other way but to simply state, I love coffee. There is nothing better to smell the aroma of freshly grounded beans and drinking the dark rich brew piping hot with the sweet/bitter taste sending my taste buds into ecstasy.  

MarQe, being the perfect gentleman, has invited me OVER for a coffee in my upcoming visit, however, a slight little problem seems to be presenting itself. I seriously do think that the word, "OVER" needs to be properly defined by both parties, in order to get to the bottom of this coffee invite.

Reason being, is that I do try to maintain a healthy lifestyle, and as such, take heed of the so many health practitioners that have cautioned that coffee may be hazardous to one's health.

On a final note, I have to say; that I love coffee art, the many forms and shape it can take. It must be therefore noted, that my favourite choice  of coffee art has nothing to do with my coffee invite OVER at MarQe's place...



Animal Planet

I am under siege.
Surrounded by a mountain of empty tissues boxes,
and a nose firmly declaring: "No More",
 I needed something to make me smile
This did...
as well as inducing a coughing fit...
(now where was that box of tissues?....) 


Not A Fairy Tale

I have bronchitis. I am too scared to breathe, never mind cough. My nose is sore, my throat is itching and my ears are aching. My body protest when I want to move around and it cannot quite decide whether it is hot or cold. The swings between shivering from cold to being drenched in perspiration are exhausting in itself. Finally, to put the reddest of cherries on the top - my bottom is rather quite still sensitive from last week’s serious one-on-one meeting with HH's cane.
According to these sweet, syrupy romantic novels, I should be quietly lying in a huge, comfortable bed, covered with crisp and cool bed linen. Dressed in a negligee, I should be propped up against continental pillows with my long hair a splash of chocolate curls against the white linen.  My impossibly rich beau would be hovering in concern, whilst his servants are rushing back and forth with freshly squeezed orange juice and chicken soup.
I will be staring lovingly at my handsome man in his designer clothes, with my eyes huge and framed against my marble white skin, as he will be tenderly holding my hand, whispering his declarations of love to me. And when I wince as my tender bottom protest, he would with a snap of his finger, ensure that all the servants disappear, so that he could gently cradle me in his arms, after he has ever so gently rubbed some soothing cream over the freshly caned flesh. During this scene, not once will I complain, only weakly smile at all the ministrations going on around me, and then close my eyes, to drift gently to sleep again.

There will be no record of the slightly unladylike coughing spells that send my cats scattering, or anything about the muttered swear words whilst I am looking for a fresh box of tissues. The fact that I am constantly changing into fresh pyjamas as the fever attacks come and go, having now to resort to the old and faded ones, whilst waiting for the washing machine to catch up, would also not be noted. And although I can confirm that I do make use of bed linen, neat, cool and crisp it is not – my bed appears to have been in some major war, with pillows scattered all over, and a duvet twisted and partially hanging onto the floor.  

Nothing will be said about my mood swings that can be anything from crying spells when self-pity becomes too strong, irritation in not being able to get on with my life or pure temper tantrums because the latter two emotions are frustrating me. Nothing will be penned down about words being used, colouring the room blue, when I move to quickly with a bottom to remind me of lessons learned last week.
Although Uncle Nick has spent hours with me on Skype these last couple of days, clearly concerned about my health, he has not changed into this stranger I do not know, he remains what he is. He understands that I hate being confined, not being able to move about, but instead of showering me with sympathy, and trying to coddle me, he mocks my croaky voice, my inability to pronounce words because of my blocked nose, and lowers his voice dramatically when I am only able to whisper during the conversations. I need to be able to laugh, although in between coughing spells,  and that he understands.  

 When complaining about my sore bottom, he is quick to remind me that it was my because of my own misbehaviour. My temper tantrums, self pity spells and tendency to use barb words whilst feeling irritated, are  either met with quiet warnings to stop acting out, or are plainly ignored. He understands me so well, that he knows that I need to know that even though I am ill, temper tantrums, insolence and arrogance will still not be tolerated. I do not need the orange juice, or the chicken soup, hovering servants or love struck men – I do have what I wanted, something true and real.


Sunday Spanking Night

For the final strectch of this week-end, I have decided to spend my Sunday night in comfort...

I rather have a good movie to watch...

And a book or two to read before I go to sleep...

For I am sure I will be having sweet dreams...

Raven's Needs A Spanking Award 2

In the name of Education:

South Africa’s minister of Higher Education and Training has resorted to stating that “darkies” are damned if they do, and damned if they do not, when challenged in parliament regarding the failures experienced in the Education system.
However, ignoring all the political rhetoric around this issue, I think I have finally found the root cause to our problems experienced with education in this country.

Bus driver arrested for overloading a 62-seater bus, allowing 116 children aboard.
Taxi driver arrested for overloading a 26-seater bus, by allowing 113 people aboard, of which 105 were children. The driver also did not have a drivers licence, the bus had an expired operator’s disc and the final clinch – there were five warrants of arrest outstanding for the driver. 
Taxi driver arrested for overloading a 21-seater bus, allowing 62 people aboard, of which 59 were children. Oh, again, no drivers licence, no public driver permit or an operator’s disc. 
Taxi driver arrested for overloading a 14-seater bus, allowing 45 children aboard. The same driver was stopped earlier in the week and issued with a ticket for driving the bus without an operator’s disc. 

The Award goes to:
Clearly, a good spanking session is required, with the allocated punishment to be counted down by the teacher whose bottom is being warmed, in order to remind him/her of the importance of teaching others  how to count, add and subtract.

Tangled Web

Girl works for Guy and his Partner free for a year to prove that she is employable.
Eventually Girl is employed full time with Guy promising a salary, but Girl receives a lesser salary on her paydays.
Girl, Guy and Partner have a row, with Girl taking Guy and Partner to employment tribunal.
Girl looses case, but Guy pays for her legal fees and Girl tells newspaper they are a very happily married couple?

The Award goes to:
The whole lot of them  (Girl, Guy and Partner)
Reading the article gave me a headache.

The Abominable Snowman:
With the abundance of snow, a 16-year-old boy decided to build a snowman. Well, in a way then, as he decided on only one anatomical part, and after the 7-foot sculpture was completed, it was clear that it was rather a very well endowed snowman. The police came to visit, and the end the inevitable happened – what goes up, does come down.

The Award goes to:
Certain of the commentators on the published story.
“Kiddies porn, to be registered as a sex offender, what type of parents, what is next – knocking up the innocent girl next door, blah blah blah.”
Bottoms needs to be warmed to remind old cynical, righteous and oh so politically correct farts that they were also young, even though it seems that it was around the time earth was created.
Oh, and a reminder that a typical 16 year old boy, is quite fascinated by all things sexual – it is part of the normal growing up process.


Lifting and Spanking Machine

It is not often that I do not know what to say...
but this time, I have nothing to say...
except,  maybe..
Who on earth thought of these things?

Balanced Advertising?

Interesting spanking technique to be applied
with guaranteed loss of lower limbs...

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