Pippa's Bottom Syndrome

If I hear one more word about Pippa Middleton's bottom, I am going to scream.

Yes, she did look very pretty in the white dress,
although it has resulted in this non-stop salivating and cross-eyed men syndrome.

And yes - she does have a very sexy and shapely bottom....

But believe it or not, I am NOT into Pippa's bottom.
I prefer bottoms like this....

Now THAT is what I am looking for in a bottom.
In fact, I will take the whole package...

I am wondering if he is also currently suffering from the terrible affliction that has hit the male population since the Royal wedding...


Wedding dress (Kate Middleton versus Raven Red)

She did look absolutely lovely, I must admit.
The dress is perfect, she looks happy and radiant...

I do rather have an alternative choice,
for the day if I do ever get married...

Spanking video? What Spanking Video?

In South Africa, apart from the public holidays on Friday and Monday that formed part of the long Easter weekend, we had another public holiday on Wednesday. Therefore, in the end, I had six glorious days of absolutely doing nothing. It rained for most of the weekend, and apart from talking to Uncle Nick on Skype, I curled up in bed with a good book, stayed away from my laptop and refused to answer my phone. It was a most welcome break away from the past month's twelve to thirteen working hours every day.

Later today is the Royal wedding, and with most likely every person slowly disappearing from ten in the morning under some vague pretence of it being another long weekend, with Monday as a public holiday, I rather do believe BBC’s South African viewing figures will reach record levels though. I only know that I have another three days of nothingness to look forward to. After that, it will be back to reality for all of us. Schools will re-open, traffic will return to its normal nightmarish routine, and my days will resume with its non-ending working hours. However, these are currently minor factors in my life, as I do rather have a more pressing issue at hand, and even though it was really an accident, Uncle Nick’s disbelief in my version of the story is quite palpable.

I had agreed to have my last session with HH recorded on video and with HH all chirpy and happy in a holiday mood looking forward to his two-week break, he did cordially agree to the filming. The camera was set up, and shortly thereafter, and with a sore bottom, I had my first recording of being caned. Arriving home, I had to download additional software to view the footage on my laptop, which I duly did. I had a look at the short clip that was made, and immediately hated it. The light was not right, the angle funny and well, I did not like the camera’s representation of my bottom.

Later that night while chatting to Uncle Nick, I told him that I did have video footage of the caning, but I really did not want to send it to him, because mostly of how my bottom did not correspond to what I thought it would look like after nearly a year of dieting. I was depressed and angry that it appears that it will most likely be the last place for the weight to disappear, and on top of it, that I will most likely have no breasts left. What is it about dieting that the boobs are the first to reduce in size?

After a bit of cajoling from his side, I decided to send the footage to him, but horror upon horror. Looking for the clip, it was gone. I searched in every file I could think of, but it was as if it never existed. I quickly figured out that during my total disgust at the footage, and in my haste when removing the software from the laptop, I must have inadvertently deleted the footage with it. Apart from being informed by a voice that originated straight from the South Pole that an “idiot” proof camera will be bought on my next visit to the UK, it was clear from the shards of ice flying my way, that the accident was deemed as “convenient”.

Chucking hot lava back his way, I firmly declared that I refused to be described as an idiot, upon another Tete-a Tete ensued, and I was notified that he did not call me an idiot, but said he will make sure I get an idiot proof camera. Eh...it is the same difference in my books. With my temper ready to flare, and sulking levels hitting critical intensity, he then proceeded to defuse all my readiness to engage in some serious battle with one sentence. “Well, I suppose, you will have to do it again, won’t you?”

All the gods above, HH is due to return next week, none the wiser what has happened and I will have to re-explain this little accident again. However, for some odd reason, I can feel it in my bottom that I am most likely to encounter some problems of a rattan kind...


Wordless Wednesdays: The Spanking Way





A new Spanking Adventure awaits...

After starting with my blog, and being slightly outspoken at times on Facebook, I had, during my previous visit to the UK, a few people indicating that they would like to meet me in person. Some invitations/requests were nothing more than a mere courteous offering; however, a couple of people were quite serious and genuine in their requests. Now, I could give a long-winded explanation about personal safety, conservatism, limited time available etc, and although it did play a role, the fact of the matter was, although wanting to explore more about this person I had become, my courage levels were rather on the low side.

My curiosity did outweigh my cowardice on one occasion, and as such, I did meet the London Spank Daddy. Although my bottom was not very impressed with me at the end of the meeting, I will remember the day for quite a while. Getting ready for my next visit to the UK, I have indicated to a renowned blogger that I would love to meet him (ahem...coffee and cake only!), and it seems that I will be having the honour to meet MarQe in person during my upcoming visit. (Ever seen a child’s face when waiting for an ice cream that is being scooped into the sugar cone? That is pretty much how I feel about this meeting).

 During my time with Peter Jones, I heard about “munches” and how similar minded people regularly met socially, which, being a very private person myself, I found fascinating. Driving Uncle Nick close to insanity with all my questions afterwards, I had a tour of the Moonglow studios where spanking videos were filmed, saw a dungeon that still frightens the living daylights out of me, especially after meeting the Dungeon Master who was the most friendliest and courteous man. I met a spanking model, heard stories about spanking parties, and saw a cupboard full of spanking implements (okay that was actually worse than the dungeon). I never had been as well behaved as I was on that particular day, but I can firmly declare that it was one of my highlights during the visit.

However, there is still another part of me wanting to explore more; to understand myself better, to see what it is that makes me into who I am. So, for a while, I toyed with the idea that during my next visit I maybe should be part of a spanking party, but when Uncle Nick explained the whole set-up, every part of me that is shy (99.99%) shrank back in horror. To say that I discarded that idea quickly after that, is quite an understatement. My temper is definitely one of my biggest downfalls in life, but on the other hand, my curiosity to fully explore the unknown, often lands me trouble than anything else. So, thinking about what it was that I still wanted to explore, and taking into consideration that there is people that ever since my previous visit, still insist in wanting to meet me; I had a long chat with Uncle Nick about my latest brainwave.

This man understands me better than anyone in the world does. He understands my fears (although some less laughter in certain quarters will be appreciated), he understands my temper (eh...less spanking would really be appreciated), and he knows about the deep sorrow and pain that I do carry around. He knows what it is that makes me laugh, but most of all, he understands that I am always reaching out, wanting to know and understand more about this submissive part that defines me, in a world that only seems to notice my dominant, self assured personality.

Therefore, in my upcoming visit in August/September to the UK, I have decided to make myself available for a couple of one2one sessions, well, three in total.  I had to make the decision to charge for these sessions purely based on an exchange rate that left me reeling during my last visit. The ticket assistant at one of the train stations was not amused when I asked him where I could go to check on my majority shares that I had just purchased. One of the sessions has already been booked; as a rather persistent gentleman made sure that he remained number one on my "I will think about it" list. The plus side of this is that I made a very good friend in the process, but I was also promised that my bottom would be rather tender afterwards.

Only time will tell whether this latest exploratory venture of mine was the right decision to make, but I have had wasted years trying to fit into one of the boxes that society had deemed appropriate for me. It might have become nothing more than a repetitive cliche for some, but my belief in the "Nothing ventured, Nothing gained" idiom means that in three months exactly from today, I will be experiencing a new spanking adventure...


Hot Cross Bottoms

Hot cross bottoms!
Hot cross bottoms!
Once it has been paddled,
twice it has been caned,
Hot cross bottoms!
Even if you protest you have done nothing wrong,
He will state that it is Easter, and it must be done.
Once it has been paddled,
Twice it has been caned,
Hot Cross Bottoms!

Wishing everyone a Safe and Blessed Easter.


Clubs, bottoms, country girls and hairbrushes

Los Angeles Times, 1938

Question 1
There really were fifty-nine Wives of Spanking Husbands Clubs?
The hairbrush-making industry must have been smiling from cheek to cheek...
Oh, sorry! eh...ear to ear.

Question 2
On what basis were you elected as the President of the Wives of Spanking Husbands club?
Comparison of smacks received, the size of the hairbrush, how red is thy bottom...?

Question 3
The auxiliary to the club was really named "The Daughters of Spanking Parents"?
Can only imagine how thrilled and excited the daughters must have been...

Question 4
What is it with men and hairbrushes?
I have an opinion about men and hairbrushes, but think I will exercise my right not to say anything, otherwise, a hairbrush might be held against my bottom...

On the left hand side bottom of the paper is a little quote under the heading
"Remember This":
"Happiness is like the unspoilt country girl that knows nothing about the city ways..."
(I am not saying a word - not one!)


Not silly and NOT sulking

It is NOT that I am sulking...really!

However, I do find myself with rather a tender and sensitive bottom today, because apparently I am a "silly little girl" at times.

So, in my alternative "I am not and you can not say that I am" emotional state, I went in search of one of my favourite clips to prove that you also get "silly little boys"...

So there...


Done and Dusted

 My day? Nerves, lots and lots of nerves. Add Uncle Nick to the recipe - terrorising me literally every hour, informing me out of the kindness of his heart how fast time to seem be going...

Finally driving to my doom through Johannesburg, in peak hour, the weather grey, and cold and just to add to my misery - raining. I had to take some very deep breaths, before pressing the button on the intercom, and nearly made a u-turn when his voice said "Come up"

I do not think HH has ever seen me so meek and mild in his life, and I really had a battle to look him in the eyes tonight. When asking him what it was that really had upset him so much with our conversation, he only gave me this slight smile and said, "Cannot remember, I forgot the moment I accepted your apology". This in effect means that I will have to watch my step very carefully in the future...TOP logic I suppose.

At least there was an upside to it all, he did state that I can be perkier next time...well, that was after he had gotten hold of my bottom, I have to add! Twelve with the cane, and thank all the gods in the heavens above, my fervently said prayers of the day were heard - the paddle made no appearance.

It seems that all is forgiven, but a lesson was learned for sure...all that my quick temper and even quicker mouth brought me in the end, was a very warm and tender bottom. I am going to stop writing now; one protesting part of my anatomy is quite insisting that I should seriously consider avoiding any sitting position for a while.

I could blame...

It is 4am on Monday morning...and here I am, wide-awake. This weekend past can only be classified under "Do not repeat"; however, I would have loved either another day, or the ability to go straight to Tuesday morning for this week.

I could blame my being awake this early on the dog next door that has been barking at the moon for the past hour or so, but I do know that is not really the reason why I am awake.

I could blame this horrid feeling in my stomach, the tight, knotty, butterfly feeling on the fact that the ham sandwich I had last night was not the best idea, but I do know that it has nothing to do with the feeling of dread.

I could blame this slight shivering in my hands to being awake at four in the morning, an indication of lack of sleep, or maybe having a cup of coffee so early, but I do know that I have slept more than my normal hours and that there is more coffee in my body than blood on any given day.

I could blame the clenching of my bottom muscles every so often on the fact that maybe I have slept in one position to long, but that would not explain the visions of paddles and canes that comes with it away.

Today is Monday. It is a day of reckoning, timed to happen at exactly six this evening. I can only blame my being awake at 4am on this Monday morning on the fact that I know that I have quite a bit of reckoning coming my way.



In my early twenties, I met a man with whom I fell passionately in love with, he was everything I wanted and more, and I could not quite believe my luck that he seemed to be just as in love with me. However, it was only a fairy tale that ended in such tragedy, not only for me - but also for another girl that was pulled into the web of deceit. He was a fraudster in all the ways you can think of, and for her, her willingness and eagerness to do things out of love, in the end resulted in her taking her own life. He was convicted and sentenced to go to prison, all the glamour and status that everyone had attached to him, stripped away in a blink of an eye. Me?


In the days that were to come, I heard from many voices that were dealing with the chaos he left in his wake, that even he admitted, that even after two years of trying, he was unable to move me in the direction of assisting him in his activities. I was chosen not for me, but for the position, I had held in a company. Moreover, like the fool I was, I was totally oblivious to all this. In the aftermath, a lot of attention was paid to the dealings of people within the company, and during this period, two people were going out of their way to spread the nastiest of rumours about me.

I do not remember much of the days that did follow, I was broken on so many levels that I could barely function. One day, I was called into a manager's office, where I was informed that the investigations were over. The two people that were so active in smearing my name were found to be involved in their own little money making scams, however, no wrongdoing could be found in anything that I did - and taken the circumstances they would like to award me for my honesty. That was the day when I finally broke down.

I did nothing out of the ordinary where my work was concerned, I did what was expected of me, and I did it well. I was oblivious to the attempts that he did make to alter my work ethics, and yes, in hindsight I could remember the incidents - how I laughed at him about certain statements, how I refused to discuss procedures that were deemed as confidential. However, nothing could take away the knowledge that I was nothing more than a fool, a fool that was left with her heart broken in small bitter pieces.

The reason for telling this non-spanking story on a Sunday morning? I have been receiving mails from a girl that used to be on the Facebook pages. She is in trouble, and she needs professional help, but part of the damage that has been done to her, was through the lies and deceit that people now so easily spread through the internet. I have become the focus of her delusions, but at the same time, my heart is breaking for her.

The dangers of the internet are known – there are those who deliberately set out to deceive, defraud and commit crimes. Nevertheless, the internet also offers anonymity, a place where you can talk freely about your dreams, your fantasies, and your life. Here I am known as Raven Red, which obviously is not my real name. However, this I do know - everything that I have written down or wrote about is based on the truth, and is the truth. Where it is not, and is a tale, I will say that it is.

It had taken years to recover from something that happened to me when I was barely twenty-four, and therefore I know how important it is to be honest in everything I do. I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of deliberate deceit and lies - and no one should be left, (normally alone) bewildered and hurt beyond comprehension to pick up the pieces of their lives.


Nothing left

I have been sitting around all day long drinking loads of coffee and water, not by own choice though - I was officially working. The problem was that there were processes that had to be followed, which, unfortunately were not in my hands. So, with nothing much else to do but wait, I have had a whole day to do nothing more than think about Monday evening.

I have read every newspaper the coffee shop have to offer, had conversations with total strangers, sat with my headphones listening to music, had breakfast and lunch, and even dinner, but the whole time my thoughts will eventually have drifted back to what is to come. I know that it is called anticipation, I know that as the time draws closer, it becomes all consuming, your body reacting with every though that flits through your mind that you so desperately try to suppress, I know this, I have been here before. Yet, this time, it is so very different.

It has nearly been a year since the day that I met HH in a coffee shop. This strange man was looking across a table at me, while I was nervously discussing a topic, which in the end became a crucial turn around point in my life. From the first spanking where I point blank refused for my panties to come down – and he the gentleman that he is, to allow for it, to the point now where he only states to “prepare myself”, he has always been a constant. Not even realising it he has become such a critical part of my life, not only a disciplinarian, but a friend that I can say good morning to every day.

I know that I am going to receive the punishment of my life on Monday evening; after all, I was warned – more than once at that. I know that I will not be sitting comfortably for a few days – that is a given. However, the uncertainty regarding the consequences of what I have done, or how much damage I have caused, that is new to me. I have effectively transported myself back to a year ago – nervous and unsure of myself, but with one major difference.

The first time I relied on bluster, wit, and cheeky comments to maintain some form of equilibrium, but on Monday evening I will be no longer able to do that – he knows me to well. For the first time ever since I have met HH, none of my defences will be in place, for I have nothing else left but to offer my full submission.

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