Muffled?

You have the flawless response; you plotted a seamless reaction whilst your brain seems to be functioning at optimum output...but, alas, this normally is always after the fact. 

 

It seems to be a human flaw that when something nasty occurs unexpectedly, you often wonder afterwards

1.         Why you did not say something more appropriate,

2.         Why you did not act/ react as you should have,

3.         Or as in my case, wonder what happened to your normal logical thought processes.

 

After a long road trip down to London with Uncle Nick and finally in the quiet surroundings of a warm hotel room, I was slightly astounded when I was informed that he had enough of my insolence. Before I could even formulate a proper response, (refer to paragraph 2, point 1) I found myself unceremoniously being hauled over his lap, as he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

As I was still trying to figure out exactly what it was that I said or done that could be regarded as “insolent” as this is after all, quite a broad definition of various possible scenarios that might or might not have occurred, I did sort of missed the fact that in my pondering, my knickers no longer were in place. In actual fact, my bottom was bare and I did not even lift one finger to try and stop this?! (Refer paragraph 2, point 2).

 

As his hand came crashing down on my bottom time after time, my only thought was...”OMG! I better make sure that no-one hears me being spanked!!”  With that desperate thought, I promptly grabbed the pillow in front of me, stuffed my face into it, and happily endured the spanking, after all, all my yelps were quite succesfully being muffled...

Erm...(refer paragraph 2, point 3).

Low Hanging Fruit...

I have had a couple of surreal moments in my life, but then again, I do seem to have sign on my forehead that says: "Trouble Welcome Here". Attending a get together with some friends, I was introduced to a rather jocular, seemingly highly intelligent man. I did not think much of it, nor take much notice either, apart from the fact that he seemed quite a nice guy, friendly and easy on the ear of a newly arrived South African still trying to decipher the words between all the different British county accents.

 

As things sometimes do obtain a life of their own, so did the evening. From what was supposed to be a bit of chatting and catching up over a glass of wine or two, it turned into a serious "Global Resolution” summit, even briefly including some heavy duty strategies to resolve the current global economic crisis. As with any good informal social discussions, thought processes were definitely being influenced by the copious amounts of red wine consumed. The topics and debates thereof were on the increase in direct proportion to the amount of empty wine bottles in the recycling bin.

 

It was in this rather robust atmosphere where personal opinions were now based on the size of egos with a simultaneous reduction in intelligence and common sense, when I made my escape to some cold evening air to have a cigarette. I was joined by the afore mentioned gentleman and the conversation (very one sided at that) started off innocently enough - he was curious about the South African for about 15 seconds before proceeding to tell me about his latest business venture. 

 

Take my word for it...staring at an empty wine glass wishing you brought the bottle with, whilst making the appropriate acknowledgement noises as your ears ache, does not even closely come to describe my despair. When the inevitable promises came that he would offer me a job, no, actually I should not scoff at him, he is offering me a job; it took every bit of self control not to roll my eyes. When I finally did manage to utter a single sentence about going back into the house as I am slightly tired, he pounced on the subject of sleep deprivation with great gusto. 

 

It took nearly fifteen minutes to establish that he had not slept for some indeterminable time...but would I like to know why? Another bit of advice - when you get that little niggling thought that you should run before it is too late...DO IT! I was proudly informed that his sleep shortage was due to “bonking” every female in his sight, because they all find him irresistible, especially when they see his appendage’s considerable size.  It appeared though that my disinterest in his overwhelming busy sex life or the size of his “brain” was interpreted as disbelief. 

 

Before I could even say the word “penis”, he jumped up, excitedly shouting that he will show me what so many desires - “MY COCK!” which he then promptly hauled out. I will give him this - he is well endowed - it is just a pity about the rest of him. My desire for something stronger than wine increased dramatically as he was waiving his asset around for all and sundry to admire. It was about five minutes later when I heard his voice rather plaintively stating that he loves having his cock sucked. (I ignored the statement - At this stage, my glass had been thankfully been refilled, and I was concentrating at getting as much nicotine and wine into my system in the shortest period of time possible). 

 

Silence descended.

Then...“Would you like to suck my cock?”

All the red wine in the world could no longer put a lid on my temper. “No”.

Another bit of silence.

“Congratulations! You have the job!!”

I have to admit, I could not help but to laugh - it was one of the best attempts I have ever heard anyone make trying to safe some face...well, in his instance, attempt to save cock? 

 

The surreal bit?  It was about ten minutes later after I finally managed to make my escape, when he came up to me...

“Love, how ‘bout a cup of tea, please?”

 

 

 

 

 

A bit of advice

Another long period of time that "Raven believes that blogs update themselves" has gone past!

 

Erm...yes, Uncle Nick, save the sarcasm...SIGH!

 

I have finally arrived in the UK after frantically finishing off all my responsibilities and duties with my previous employer. I would rather want to forget about the packing and unpacking of my personal belongings. I soon realised that with the airline's baggage weight restrictions, whilst trying to fit everything in, also meant that I should have budgeted another two days or so trying to make things weigh lighter.

 

Not that it quite worked...the damn luggage was still over the required weight, but thank the gods above for a ground crew member irritated with her boss. Her massive sulk combined with my strategically well placed sympathy saved me quite a bit of money! It is now three weeks later, and I am still pinching myself, not quite believing that this time I do not have to get on a plane soon to leave again.

 

Taking into account that with rather being occupied in other areas for the past couple of months, my bottom has been reasonably well protected, but my arrival in the UK, coupled with being around Uncle Nick meant that sooner or later (and trust me...it was the sooner bit that came first), I would start gravitating towards the “I think I need to be spanked” thoughts. However, I am a realist - the nice tingly thoughts of wanting to be spanked continuously did get confronted by the cold (hot would be more apt) reality that when Uncle Nick gets hold of your bottom, you definitely know it. I swear his hand is harder than a rock!

 

Believe it or not, I am also quite a “good girl” most of the time, and for the rest, I tread carefully - I really do try and stay out of trouble. All of this only resulted in days of trying to decide whether I really do want to be spanked (Yes!!) taking into account the hardness of the hand that will be doing the spanking (No!!) whilst knowing that my carefully controlled good behaviour would mean that I actually will have to ask for the spanking...which started the circle of contemplation all over again.

 

At least the issue has now been resolved, although not quite in the manner than I anticipated. All I have to say -  do NOT go and sit on a cold wall and when all feeling have left your derriere, go up to a spanker and turn around lifting your skirt telling him to feel how cold your bottom is...

 

Defeat

I have a couple of weeks left before leaving my job. At the same time, I have the same couple of weeks left before leaving the county. Oh, and over and above that, in between I am focusing on a business that I am trying to get of the ground.

 

So, between juggling work issues, reading some manuscripts received, editing, packing up stuff, I have now reached a point where if you look closely I am waving a white flag. Actually, you do not need to even look closely, if you look in the distance and see a large blob of white frantically moving around - that is me. I admit defeat!

 

Although I normally will try everything to get out a spanking, I now humbly request, can I please just crawl over a knee and have my derriere undergo a change in colour? I am tired, out of sorts, now and again going of on a temper tangent and even worse, having sulks that even I frighten myself.

 

I know that as that hand impacts over and over on my bottom which frankly has become quite complacent in not having any firm discussions with it, the tension in my back and shoulders will start unwinding.  I know that this awful feeling of being unsettled, being moody, from the one moment close to tears to the other ready to kill anything in sight, will go away.

 

I know that when the tears finally do come, and they will, I will experience a feeling of quietness inside myself, creating peace and calmness, and therefore I will no longer be waking up because I have a sore jaw from grinding my teeth, or having half-moons in my palms left from clenching my fists in my sleep.

And I know that even though my bottom will hurt, this terrible hollowness inside will be gone, I will once again safe and strong enough to face the future, no matter how difficult these last couple of weeks might be.

 

You are talking to me?

I have the view that when a general statement is made, it is nothing more than a lot of words being bunched together, with the actual message hidden in there somewhere. At times, it is a way for a person to assess your mood, whilst summonsing the courage to actually tell you what they want. Alternatively, the statement is made on the assumption that you will decipher the hidden code, get the message and react accordingly.

As such, I do not have a very receptive ear when they are uttered and quite actually tend to ignore it. Let me illustrate by an example - during a heated discussion, or maybe in the attempt to convey some slight mistakes I might have accidentally made, a statement like “Bottoms will burn” will not mean anything in my life.

 Firstly, the term, Bottoms, refer to more than one bottom, plainly put - anything from two and upwards. I also do not suffer from some obscure mutation disease, and the last time I checked, I only did have one bottom. Granted, perhaps slightly bigger than what I would like it to be, but that does not mean that it can be quantified as “bottoms” either.

 Secondly, regarding the “will burn” bit. Will burn when? Today, tomorrow, next week, maybe next year? Oh, and burn how...too much sun, hot water? More importantly, why on earth will bottoms burn? I might be curious, but such vagueness is far too much even for me to try and obtain all the information.

 Therefore, since there is no actual definition and clarification that it is a direct reference and/or threat being made to my anatomy, I will ignore such utterances.

Announcement...or something like that...

If there is one thing I am certain of is that I am a bookworm. Having had a teacher for a mother, I was taught appreciation for the written word from a very young age, and could read at the age of five. I have never stopped since and although I have a love for certain genres, I love to browse and discover something fresh and unusual.

Two major events are about to occur in my life, of which one is leaving South Africa, with the second being the consequence of the first – the end of a very successful career at my current company. However, it is also the beginning of a new life, and one in which I have decided to combine my love for books with work.

I am setting up my own publishing company, as I firmly believe that everyone does have a story to tell, whether it is fictional or not. In terms of Erotica submission, a non-negotiable rule is that your manuscript should not contain kids or animals. For novels, the word count must be between 50,000 and 80,000 words and in your mail, please include a chapter by chapter outline. All submissions are to be sent as Word attachments. I have no objection if you want to submit your work to other companies at the same time. Regarding royalties, fifty percent of the received royalties will be paid over to you.

For more information or submission of work, kindly mail me at ravenred001@gmail.com.

www.savagechickens.com

The one that got away?

For a couple of months, I was working up to twelve hours a day, seven days a week, being involved in a development phase, not only for the business, but for myself. I can remember that horrible tiredness that set in after the first month which blurred the rest of the time in a “let survive day by day” philosophy.  With all that was going on, my two weekly bottom warming visits to HH effectively came to a screeching halt.

At first, it seemed to be all fine. I could flop down in chairs without going through the “oh holy cow, my bottom hurts” moments, my constant fidgeting  in meetings ceased and I was no longer getting up every ten minutes make a cup of coffee to alleviate the uncomfortable sensations experienced in my rear region.

However, in the absence of my regular mood stabilising therapy sessions, as performed on a certain part of my anatomy, my temper was flaring more than normal and I have to add, rather spectacularly at times. Coupled with the temper was the steady increase in my refusals to willingly co-operate with anyone in general, and I do think, it reached a point where any self respecting mule would have gladly handed me the stubbornness crown to wear.

This unhealthy state finally reached a point where a disagreement about paying for lunches ended it all. I had become totally fed up with the team leader of the project, more specifically, with his insistence to buy me lunch every day without wanting to take my money for my share. I am a firm believer in paying my own way, and my irritation levels knew no bounds when trying to leave money on the table or paying for the food directly, I would invariably find the cash lying on my desk later in the afternoon.

I kept the money in an envelope, and every time I had to add some more, my temper and impatience soared. I also knew that if I handed the cash over, stating that it is for the lunches, I would have not been successful. So, I put on my most innocent face, took the envelope out of the drawer and set of on my mission. As he came down the passage, I stuffed the envelope in his hand as I passed him, dismissively stating that I was told to give it to him.

When I was sure there was enough space between me and him, I stopped and then told him, gleefully and quite mockingly, I have to admit, that it is the damn lunch money. Oh, and he that can forget it – I have locked my office, it will remain locked, and even though it is against the law, if the money is returned to me, I will burn it! Feeling quite smug and satisfied, there was nothing in the world that could have prepared me for his next words. “Young lady, I feel like putting you over my knee, because you are in need of a good spanking”.

It felt as if the whole building was caving in on me – I knew my face was burning, as I could feel the air cooling it down while I was whipping my head in all directions to see if any of my colleagues heard this little, unexpected and devastating statement. At the same time, as I was leaning back against the wall due to a sudden but serious weakness being experienced in my legs, and trying to get a bottom under control that was clenching and unclenching involuntarily, I was frantically trying to think of a response, apart from the “Yes, oh my goodness, yes, yes, yes, please!” that was racing through my mind.

In the end, I did manage a weak laugh, and a mumbled some inane response that to this day, I cannot quite remember. However, a message was sent that very afternoon to HH, quite clearly stating that I am in dire need of not only a great cup of warm coffee, but also a bottom warming session with him and his cane. I have to confess though, that for the rest of project duration, and in the many meetings following, I did rather have a fascination with the hands of said team leader, not being able to look away, and constantly found myself daydreaming, wondering whether he was a hard spanker...