Disciplined Gardening

I will be very honest and say that I will never, ever, appear on one of those unbearably cheerful television shows, kitted out in the most horrendous dress and waving around a garden fork in a gloved hand while spewing out the Latin names of plants.

Well, okay - you are not even going to get the English plant names out of me. Nor I am going to stand there with ruddy sunburnt cheeks telling you what you should or should not plant, simply because I can barely distinguish a rose from a daffodil.

And that brings me to my current prediction. I have met a wonderful Dom and as our friendship is growing, I have recently been asking him quite a lot of questions about general stuff that I still need to find my way around. Sadly, sometimes, I do not think before I speak - or write in this instance.

So, I approached C, after we had some wonderful weather, lamenting my now extremely overgrown garden and my total lack of talent in the horticulture sector. 

I explained the garden's layout, going into detail about the willow tree that seems to be on steroids and the weeds underneath it trying to outgrow it. I raised my concern around the three bamboo bushes that appear to multiply by the day and the creeper that I think had the starring role in The Little Shop of Horrors. 

Now he has given me some great advice to do a little bit of work, but often, however, I still do not think a flamethrower or dynamite would be the correct solution for the creeper. However,  out of all my garden issues, what did C fixate on? Not my dire fear of being chased and consumed by the descendants of the Triffids in my back garden, or the fact that I might be carried away by the slugs and spiders.

Although he finds my fear of death by plants and bugs quite amusing, C zoned in with the deadly accuracy of a sniper on the fact that there are three bamboo bushes and a willow tree. In my garden. Belonging to me. 

His target range estimation between my bottom and these four plants are according to him, spot on with an imminent execution. He is gleefully talking about willow switches and the fact that I can even go and cut my own, to hand over to him. I often hear similar sentiments about the bamboo bushes. 

What!!?? 

To make matters worse, I am being asked every day how the little but often gardening regime is going. So far, I have managed for this past week to come up with very good excuses but the reality is that I am thinking about it often but have done little. Until today that is. 

I was gently informed that garden inspection time is coming up, with the necessary direction and correction if results are not satisfactory. Oh, and that I do not need to be concerned about the form of device that will be used for the modification of behaviour. He is looking forward to us together inspecting the willow tree in depth!

There goes my restful weekend, as I will now, of course, have to dedicate it asking around and looking for flamethrowers and dynamite...

Bottom Betrayal

It has been a couple of weeks, well more a month or three since my bottom had declared a state of emergency. Slight twinges of concerns that it might have had regarding implements infringing on its territory slowly disappeared, especially when the owner of said bottom seemed to do nothing more than sitting in comfortable chairs, day after day, and from one meeting to the next.

Complacency is never a good thing. Much to my derriere’s consternation I decided that the signed copy of Uncle Nick’s book that was sent to me, as a gift for HH, should maybe be delivered...six months after it was posted from London. I am not sure why it took the South African Postal Services all this time to get the book to me...but I am definitely not going to waste energy trying to figure it out either.

Anyway, back to my bottom’s story. Clinging firmly to belief that the only hot object in the room will be the cup of coffee in my hand, the bottom very tentatively tried to relax in yet another comfortable chair, as conversation filled the air. However, sadly my bottom has now declared a breach of trust.

Nervous and jittery it realised that the conversation was coming to an end, and that all too familiar small silence filled the air, before HH uttered the fatal words that confirmed the ultimate betrayal: “Right, I think it is time, please assume the position”. As the winter air lightly cooled the bottom down, it was desperately trying to send messages to me to retreat and please, whatever I do, not to surrender.

Alas, as the tawse commenced to restore heat, the bottom admitted defeat. At my little whimpers uttered, it sneered in contempt – reminding me very clearly that it had been quite happy to continue with the status quo, but it was my insanity that was now causing it considerable discomfort.

Hearing the swish of the cane as it cut through the air, my bottom clenched in absolute disbelief and a clear message of “You MUST be kidding” reverberated in the room. After months of enduring nothing harder than padded chairs, the bottom was now faced with carefully placed strokes across its cheeks. As I finally agreed with my bottom that maybe I should have opted for the escape route, and better heating solutions can be found, my derriere was praising the gods above.

However, it is currently in a full blown sulk, taking every opportunity when I do sit down, to painstakingly remind me that it is not happy with me, making sure that I am well aware of the sudden insufficient padded chairs due to red stripes that are so nicely placed. I do predict that the sullen behaviour will continue for another couple of days. I have, wisely, I think, decided rather not to share the news with my bottom that Uncle Nick is of the firm believe that the old two week visiting routine to HH should be restored...it is definitely NOT going to fall for the “just a visit and coffee” routine again...   

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?

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?

Weather Forecast

Finally!

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 Niño 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?

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)!

Thin Ice

I am the worst liar you would find in the world. Uncle Nick can attest to this - during my visit, I tried to lie about something, and was caught out literally within seconds. If the blushing, or the act of avoiding to look at you ...oh and the nervous laughter do not give me away, it will definitely be my voice. When I utter deviations on the truth, my voice change - the lie and the panic  very clearly audible.

My dieting is still going strong (well, most of the days), but now there is the little thing of having to study. We did agree during my visit that time was precious, hence no studying was done. (I did take the books with though...at least there was some attempt!) Being back in South Africa, I diligently started once things had settled down, but then went on a business trip or two and somehow the studying went out of the window.  

That is, until yesterday. Happily chatting away on Skype, I was NOT prepared for the question: "How is your studying going?” In theory, I should have gotten away with a lie - we were not video streaming, so he could not see me and I could have pinched myself not to laugh - but the voice....the damn voice...

At the same time, I know when I treading on ice so thin, that I do actually already qualify for walking on water. It is something in the way that he became quiet - a small silence, the throat clearing...then his voice changing a gear, becoming a low hum and the question repeated ever so slowly and clearly. Although I miss him more than anything in life, I was eternally grateful that a huge piece of water was between us. Sometimes, the negative does have some positive results as well.

However, I am off to get some studying done...I have come to the firm conclusion that I do seem to run the real risk of having an impact study being performed on my bottom if books are not opened soon.

 

Safety Routes

Weighing her options...

in distance and speed.

(Oh, and whether he will be quick enough)

So much ado about nothing

It was only a small peep...

Men really suffer from an"overreaction syndrome"!

Spankingly positive?

I can barely describe my happiness this morning knowing that it is Friday. I would be ecstatic if I could skip Saturday and go straight to Sunday as well, but I suppose I cannot have everything I want.  The "miracle" has occurred, and HH’s electrical issues at his office have been sorted out. I am truly happy for him, at least he is again able to run his business, however, that means that I have to present myself to him tomorrow morning. But, I am trying to be positive about my upcoming meeting with him. I will only have nine days to go before leaving for the UK, after he has (again!) utilised his colour co-ordination skills on my bottom. So theoretically speaking, it should then be the last coffee, croissant and paddle date I will have with him before my departure. I mean, really – I am convinced certain confident reasonably positive that I can stay out of trouble until then...

Cancellation of a punishment?

This is me.

Okay, it is not really me, but it could have been me. I have been left standing in the corner and for the record; I hate anything that might resemble corner time. I had to report to HH this evening, but then as I was going through the process of reconciling myself with the fact that my bottom had to meet with a piece of wood in the middle of winter, I received a message. "No power in office, no punishment tonight. You are a lucky Madam". A lucky Madam? A cancellation of the punishment or the joyous unexpected demise of a paddle will enhance my status to lucky. Alas, there is no luck in this story, for the punishment has not gone away - it was only postponed, and even worse, that awful piece of wood is still in existence.

However, I am sure this whole scenario can be regarded as the infliction of undue emotional distress, which in my books should count towards a significant reduction in the punishment due. In addition, if you take into consideration that I am now figuratively being stuck into a corner, waiting for the paddle to fall, credit should also be given for good behaviour. Therefore, in considering all these factors overall, it should effectively mean that the punishment has now been cancelled. Don't you agree?

I have done it again...

Okay. So, I have managed to do it again. It lasted for a couple of months, (give me the credit for that), but last week my control slipped. Well, to be honest, "slipped" might not be an accurate description. I lost it, completely and utterly.

In my defence, I was tired, cranky and after being stuck at a traffic light for more than 30 minutes, not an ounce of patience was left in my body. The law-abiding fools (like me) sat in this never-ending queue, while others would zoom past; create their own lane, resulting in a traffic jam of note. When I finally managed to get to the front of the queue, having to turn right, the collective taxi driver did his utmost to fit his vehicle next to mine. He failed. The joy of owning a huge 4x4 (or otherwise known as a SUV)!

(Snippet of conversation with Uncle Nick)

"So the traffic light changed, and as I started to turn right, he drove over the traffic island, and cut me off"

"Yes?"

"We then had a bit of a verbal conversation" (well I was verbal to the extreme, I might add)

"Yes?"

"He then gave me the middle finger, and showed me with his hand to bring it on"

Silence (both parties - I was already having serious doubts in the wisdom of sharing this tale)

"So what did you do?"

"Er...I did. Bring it on, I mean. I er...nudged forward, until I was pinning his taxi down against the guardrail with my car's bullbar"

Snort of laughter, immediately followed by a heavy silence.

Consequences:

No damage to my car or the bullbar - some scrapes on side of taxi.

(He did try his utmost thereafter to get me to drive into the back of the taxi, by slamming on his brakes - but by then, my sanity had returned - and the song "Bat out of hell" was going through my head when I made sure that I am definitely going into an opposite direction than him...)

A lecture about my death wish, my temper and that I should know better.

Moleskin notebook made an appearance...an entry was made - with a threat that I will be eating standing up for a week or something...

My possible way out of having food in a standing position?

(Still needs some refining and work though...)

I distinctly did hear that snort of laughter!

Raven Red: A Scale, A Paddle and mid-Winter

Guest Posting by HH

As many readers of this Blog are aware, Raven has set herself a tough weight-loss goal. She has asked me to provide her with a level of motivation to achieve her weekly goal. Unfortunately, the scale has not been playing ball. It seemingly refuses to move in the right direction. Whilst I know that Raven is trying very hard and why I have given her a degree of latitude and encouragement over the past two weeks, the results leave something to be desired. Thus it was that Raven arrived at my offices last evening for a motivational session.

Raven is a stoical creature at the worst of times! I have laid into her with a Senior Cane on a number of occasions and she scarcely utters a sound. The only telltale that she is under duress is that her toes curl back under her feet. At one stage I was concerned that she may be developing “leather butt” and that even a moderately firm stroke across her bared buttocks was not having the desired effect.

I, therefore, decided that we would switch to the paddle for her weight-loss motivational sessions. My thoughts that she may be becoming immune to feeling in her rear were quickly dispelled! The application of my paddle certainly had more than her toes curling up. She suddenly became a great deal more vocal – both during and after her “motivational” sessions. She has on any number of occasions threatened to cremate my paddle in a fiery pyre. Now, I have certainly seen much more fearsome looking paddles on offer. Mine in fact is rather small and certainly pretty innocent by comparison with some of the fearsome instruments of pain that we see used on the web.

The pic below will give you some idea of the relative sizes of the two paddles – pretty harmless in my view!

In South Africa we have just passed our mid-Winter – yep, I know it sounds strange for you Northern Hemisphere types that we have mid-Winter at the same time that you have mid-Summer, but that is just the way it is. Whilst our winters are generally pretty mild, we have just had one of the coldest snaps I have ever experienced in Johannesburg. Although it has warmed up over the past two days, the temperatures drop somewhat when the sun disappears. Last night was no exception.

Having disposed of the preliminaries last night I instructed Raven to prepare herself for her “motivational session”. I was, however, feeling a little sorry for her having to bare her bottom for a spanking in the cold. I decided that instead of moving straight to the main attraction, we would have a warm up with my mini-paddle. Now this is even smaller than the paddle we normally use. It is an even smaller miniature cricket bat and measures no more than 15cms (6 inches, for those not into decimals). There was absolutely no force behind the warm-up blows. Yet within 20 seconds of starting Raven was wriggling like a fish on a hook. Her language also left a great deal to be desired!

I was not deterred! I proceeded to warm both cheeks until they both had a healthy glow. Needless to say, Raven was not a happy camper! She was even less happy when I laid the mini-paddle aside. She felt that she had enough “motivation” for one evening. Her distress when I informed her that we had just finished the warm-up was palpable.

A further 18 swats on her already warm bottom left her immune to the cold. In fact I am certain that she had no need to switch her heater on, on her journey home such was the fiery glow emanating from her glowing bottom. I can also say with a level of certainty that despite my regular ministrations, she has not developed “leather butt”!

I trust Dear Raven that your experience last night will keep you motivated through the coming week and that you will have good news when you report on Friday.

I would rather...

even visit the dentist,

or appearing for an oral exam,

will play with spiders and scorpions,

I am quite willing to go out and conquer my fear of heights,

but I really do not want to give my weight results report to HH this morning

for I clearly see the trouble on the horizon brewing...

A Broken Record...

I have really been so strict with my diet and have even started to exercise a bit, but I am really battling to get the scale to co-operate.

So, not only am I most likely in trouble again with HH tomorrow...but Uncle Nick is ever so keen to keep on reminding me that if I do not meet the agreed-upon weight by the time I arrive in the UK, I will be receiving one cane stroke for each kilogram not met.

Honestly!

He is really starting to sound like a broken record....

 

Hope he REALLY notices the second track's name...

 

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.

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...

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.

Scheduling a Spanking

Although I have quite a bit of reports to write at work, I had envisaged a mild week with no upheavals or emergencies. This suited me just fine as I knew that the moment yesterday's post was out on the blog, I was inadvertently making an appointment with HH. I wanted it to be in a calm week with no added stresses, I wanted no problems or issues that could send my temper or my defences spiking heavenwards. As far as I am concerned, I am in quite a bit of hot water already, and there is no need to be adding to my troubles, which I created in the first place anyway.

However, before I had a sip of my first cup of morning coffee, my cell phone literally vibrated itself right off my bedside table. I again forgot that I am directly related to Mr Murphy, and for my absolute insolence in believing that I am entitled to a peaceful week, every day of this coming week, up and until Sunday, became fully booked – all urgent work related queries. In the interim time, as was expected, a certain blog was read this morning, and once I showed online, my Yahoo messenger was running its little yellow feet off delivering messages between HH and myself.

First, the spanking appointment was set for late this afternoon, which resulted in a stomach feeling as if thousands of frantic butterflies were desperately trying to escape. Not a mere ten minutes later, I had to cancel as I an urgent work related work issue came up, and the appointment was moved to tomorrow afternoon. The butterflies settled down, but those little wings kept on moving the whole day, which every so often sent a shiver down my back resulting that my bottom would clench itself in pre-emptive self-pity. Trying to find all the relevant people I would need for this work exercise, after just having had a long weekend due to a Public Holiday, turned out to be hopeless and said issue was moved to tomorrow.

Instant re-organising of everything had to happen again. Back again on Yahoo messenger, with the little yellow man staring at me balefully as if I had lost my head, but the appointment was moved back to this afternoon. I got into the car, with all butterflies trying to bite their way through my stomach wall, and I was on my way. An half an hour later, I made the call, there was going to be no way that I would be able to reach him on the scheduled time as the traffic was an absolute mess. I am out of town from Thursday until next Monday, so eventually we settled on a final meeting for tomorrow afternoon.

I will be working until late tomorrow night; however, I agreed that I would leave work for the appointment and then return to work afterwards. The butterflies are NOT happy. I have no idea what implement/s would be meeting my bottom tomorrow afternoon, nor does HH want to offer any information, and regarding my blog, the only thing I got out of him, was a “I am reserving my judgement”. What the...?

For those who might be wondering, I know that I rather do seem flippant about this whole thing, however, trust me, I am currently in full-on panic mode. I will be arriving there tomorrow afternoon, and will get that look that says nothing, but says everything. In addition, I am going to be nervous, what AM I saying?, I am that already, and will most likely have verbal diarrhoea, eventually stuttering into an embarrassing silence, where after, well, practical applications regarding the discussion about the various shades of red will be performed.

I will return back to work, and will be refusing to sit down to the bemusement of all...but worst of all, the following day I will be driving for about 6 hours, with three passengers with most likely a then very tender and sore bottom. If only I could turn back the clock to a month ago...