Raven Red: Bare Bottom Psychology

Showing posts with label Bare Bottom Psychology. Show all posts

2012/11/07

Before you...

My gratitude to China Hamilton for his kind permission given to use his images.

2012/10/26

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...

2012/08/27

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.

2011/12/27

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!!

2011/10/18

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)!

2011/08/16

Spanking clips, DUI and English weather

The idea:

There are certain times when I do question my own sanity. Today was one of those days - in actual fact, the questioning into my cognitive functioning actually started yesterday morning, as soon as what the words: " Let's make a spanking clip" left my mouth. I am no actress, to that my looks and purse can sadly testify, and previous attempts at role-playing left me helplessly in tears - from laughter. So, to make matters worse, after the first couple of words were uttered, I added that the spanking clip should be linked to one of the outstanding “misunderstandings" between me and Uncle Nick in order for me to react in a genuine fashion.

The " What was I thinking!" moment

An incident of driving after having a drink or two, turned into a drunk driving offence with any changes of wiggling my way out of it, disappearing like the sun in English rain. I did rather fervently prayed last night that today would bring bright sunshine - one should explore and not stay indoors while the sun does shine over here - but the steady dripping of rain against the windows dashed that hope early this morning. My attempt to sleep late due to " exhaustion" was further nipped in the bud by Uncle Nick whispering that he had decided that my errant ways in not only disobeying him, but that of the laws of a country were to be rewarded by twenty-four strokes of the cane by lunchtime today.

Current...er... "status":

My first ever spanking or rather caning now captured on footage being edited by Uncle Nick. I did have a look at it - but the involuntary clenching of my bottom muscles in sympathy soon put an end to that. We did go out for dinner afterwards- and what was comfortable chairs yesterday had for some strange reason changed overnight into the most unyielding and uncomfortable seats. I have been knicker-less since lunchtime - and it is not that I am that daring; it is a sheer question of trying to keep anything away from touching a very sore, rather striped and red bottom. And I am now going to bed, to sleep on my stomach, and to repeat the following mantra: "You will NOT have any more bright bottom ideas..ever."

2011/06/08

Seven non-spanking weeks

I am adament that for the next seven weeks I am going to be well behaved.

At all times.

I know that Uncle Nick and HH are a little bit "doubtful" about my decision.

But, I am going to put this picture on my nightstand to assist.

It should help....

I hope.

2011/06/05

A Spanking feeling of sorts

This represents how I am currently feeling,

after being notified that HH,

his eh..."lovely" paddle

and me (correction - my bottom)

have an upcoming appointment...

One thing is sure though,

I need no clairvoyant to tell me

that in the near future I will be experiencing some troubles

with severe discomfort and heatwaves...

And although I know that this is not an option,

this is what I really feel like doing...

2011/05/25

Wordless Wednesdays: Reflections as I wait

...on that which restricts the beauty of me

... on how blind I had become

... on who I really am

... on knowing that you will set me free

2011/05/23

A Pure Hypothetical Birching Story

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2011/05/21

Changed my mind...

It is a typical winter's day this morning. Not to cold, bright and sunny and I was seriously contemplating to go for a quiet walk. After the chaos of yesterday, it is the best way to clear my mind and find some balance again; however, after seeing what happened to girls only wanting to enjoy the benefits of nature...I think I have changed my mind...

http://allthingsspanking.com/

2011/05/20

Fear (not) the Spanking paddle

There are a couple of things in life that I actually do fear. Spiders tend to send me scrambling very, very far away, and then unique to South Africa, the most awful (they say harmless) insect of them all - a Parktown Prawn which normally results in me becoming a pillar of salt, reducing me to nothing more than a mumbling fool, pleading for anyone to remove it. However, my fear for both of these ominous looking insects pale in comparison to my fear for a paddle, well specifically, HH's paddle.

I do not know whether it was because my first adult "spanking" was with a cane and that most of the punishments thereafter were canings, but I know the feel of the cane intimately. Although it does not diminished by hate/love that I do have for it, I know that the "kiss of the cane" as Uncle Nick puts it so eloquently, creates very specific lines of fire that streaks across my bottom, which after the initial couple of seconds of nothingness, causes a burn to the centre of my soul. It creates its own song as it whispers through the air, before biting into my bared bottom with a searing sting, raising the protesting flesh of my bottom in welts, the pain drilling down deep sending shudders through my entire body.

Not being HH's favourite implement (thank yea gods), I was eventually introduced to his paddle. It is an innocent-looking miniature cricket bat, proudly displayed in his office. From the top of the handle to the bottom of the blade the measurement is 45cm (about 18 inches), but the part that concerns my bottom the most, is the blade. Most likely crafted from willow wood, it measures 27.7cm (11 inches) long, and 6.5 cm (2.55 inches) wide. The width ranges from 1.5cm (0.59 inches) at the edges to 2.8cm (1.10 inches) at the ridge.

This past Wednesday, I was reacquainted to it again, to the unfeeling hardness of it, being punished for not reaching a goal. I was to receive twelve strokes that thankfully were reduced from the original eighteen, due to meeting the new target that was set down on late Friday. When he rested the cold wood against my bared skin, coldness overtook my heart. I knew that apart from the light tapping, I would not be hearing the paddle descending on my bottom. It took every bit of self-control to stay in position, to keep my hands where they were, while at the same time trying to listen to his movements in an attempt to know when the strike will be. However, fear has an odd way to reduce hearing abilities, and I only heard was my heart racing in my ears, and all I could do was press my face into the pillow I was holding.

When the first thud resounded in the room, an immediate deep, bruising burn descended on my bottom that kept on echoing in my body. Unlike the cane, that carves its song so delicately and specifically, the roughness of the paddle engulfed my whole bottom in pain. Shame, humiliation and a great degree of stubbornness will normally have me whisper about the agony of enduring the cane, but with the paddle, that is all strewn to the wind. From the first impact against my defenceless flesh, I started voicing my objections. At the third whack, all I could think of was how many was left, whilst trying to control the urge to move my bottom away even though I could not predict when the next stroke would be. Common sense prevailed, knowing that movement can cause greater harm, but dear gods, I so badly wanted to move my bottom away from that bruising burn that was descending relentlessly.

At the fifth stroke, I was desperately wondering what he would do if I jumped up, whilst my right hand was clutching at the pillow as I was trying to control the desire to put my hand in front of my bottom. As the strokes continued, the pain I felt was white hot, and I could feel the perspiration running down my back. It was with a feeling of relief when he announced that it was the last stroke, but after it was delivered, even with the overwhelming urge that I had to move away, to remove myself from a position of vulnerability, I remained in position, unable to move, fighting for composure. Tears were stinging the back of my eyes, my breathing was erratic and oh gods, how my bottom was burning.

I remember him rubbing my bottom, and I was idly wondering how my skin can feel so numb, whilst that deep pain was continuing to burn. My bottom was shaded in an angry red, swollen and the touch of my panties covering it, made me wince. I also knew that for the next couple of days, the burn would remain; my skin will be stinging as if it was exposed to a nest of wasps, and that I will be battling to remain seated for long periods. I was once asked if I find the paddle worse than the cane. My immediate response was "Yes!" but thinking about it a bit more, that was not quite true.

Between these two implements, I am normally overcome with an intense desire to build the hugest fire and making sure that they are the first sacrifices to the god of Fire, although I am not sure whether Vulcan would be impressed by my offerings. The pain and discomfort both these implements yield are different to each other, but I do know that my fear for the paddle definitely outweighs my fear for the cane. I am due to report in this morning again and I have thousands of butterflies in my stomach – for I can still feel the consequences of giving the incorrect response, burning away on my bottom.