To munch or not to munch?

We know how the standard advice to spanking and BDSM newbies goes, right? To meet people to play with, get thee to a munch. It doesn’t matter if you’re shy, antisocial, poor or privacy-conscious: in order to dip your toes into the local scene, you must consume a certain amount of alcohol in the company of other perverts. It’s the only way. Off to a munch with you.

Now, from the snark quotient in the paragraph above you may conclude that I don’t like the idea of munches. No, no, I do. They obviously work really well, or there wouldn’t be so bloody many of them. I want to be one of the people for whom munches work so well. I long to love munches.

They don’t love me, though.

Here’s the sad, twisted story of my unrequited love affair with munches.

My first one was a spanking munch in a small town near where I used to live in the North-East. Let me list the grand-total of all attendees at that one, other than Mr Haze and I: the organiser, an I’m-sure-he’s-not-always-that-boring older gent, and the latter’s I’m-sure-she’s-fascinating-if-she’d-only-bloody-ever-speak wife. That was it. The conversation was so painfully strained, I was longing to safe-word my way out of it. Not that it would have helped, because a couple of months later it turned out that the organiser of the munch had a history of not respecting women’s safewords. And here was me, trying not to be sniffy about his dirty mac.

Then there was a general BDSM munch in a bigger city quite a drive away. This was well-attended, well-organised and clearly well-loved by the locals, judging by the fact that everybody bloody knew each other by this point, and you know how much fun it is to be in a room of 70 people who know one another, with an occasional newcomer here and there. There was a party game, oh yes: each person was supposed to write down a yet unfulfilled fantasy and throw the piece of paper into a hat, and then everybody in the room was supposed to guess whose fantasy this was. Have a guess at how much of a chance I stood of guessing secret fantasies of complete bloody strangers, or for them to guess mine.

Then there was a lovely spanking munch in Scotland. This was small enough to be manageable, yet big enough to have plenty of interesting people in it. Everybody was great. I knew several people from spanking forums, and had looked forward to meeting them. What a shame, then, that I sat at the end of the table, and the only person whose conversation I could hear over the pub music was one of the friends I’d come with in the first place. (Who also kept calling me by my real name: something guaranteed to send me into a killing rage.)

Skip several years, during which the only way to get me to a munch would have been to invite the munch into my living-room. In the meantime, I somehow managed to make lots of new scene friends, none of whom seemed to mind that we hadn’t met in a pub to start with. Funny how that worked.

Anyway, a group of girlfriends lured me to this supposedly wonderful BDSM munch in London that they all went to all the time. Well, call it a glitch, but this particular time it turned out mind-crushingly boring. Pretty much all of the painfully cool people around the big table were into all sorts of arcane fetishes and practices none of us knew anything about, and nobody at all wanted to talk about spanking. The four of us bailed after an hour, and instead went to one of the girls’ house, where her husband generously spanked us all. That was much better.

You may have guessed where this post is leading. I’m actually contemplating going to a munch again. Not even contemplating, really: I’ve definitely decided I’m going. The London Under35 Kinky Drinkies has an excellent reputation, and I know a couple of people who go, so I’m guaranteed to have at least two conversations over the course of the evening. (More if I manage to sweet-talk some friends into coming with me.) Anyway, I’m older and wiser now, and I’m definitely due a positive munch experience.

I think.

I hope.

Yes, definitely.

What spanking dreams may come…

Click on the picture. Follow the trail of bread crumbs.

Fun spanking boys

I was lazily browsing the keywords that had brought people to my site, when one search phrase jumped out at me.

“Is it fun spanking boys?” an unknown searcher had asked Google.

If by “boys” we mean “grown consenting men”, then I would like to take a moment to let my eyes glaze over in a lust-filled daydream. How much fun is spanking boys, let me count the ways…

Purely physically, it’s a real sensual treat to have a boy over my lap: a long body, so large and present, hard in places, soft where it matters. Buttocks exposed, skin not yet reddened, but about to bounce and wobble under my hand. Watching marks appear and fill with colour as the spanking progresses, hearing his breath catch as he registers the pain, little noises he lets himself make. A slight tingling in my palm; knowing that his bottom is tingling much more acutely and urgently.

And then there’s the emotional side: feeding on his trust, receiving his vulnerability, alleviating his caution, gently enveloping him in my care, floating on his submission.

Yes, unknown searcher, it’s lots of fun, spanking boys. If you’re a boy, somebody will have tons of fun spanking you, and if you’re the one wondering about giving some lucky boy a spanking – go for it, it’s great. (Then come back and tell me all about it.)

Schoolgirl spanking: a favourite fantasy

Pleated skirts. Cotton knickers. Pigtails. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Books pressed to the chest. A wooden desk with a hole for an inkwell. Shorthand for a fantasy so familiar that we don’t even question where it’s coming from, how it works.

Schoolgirl spanking fantasy is central to my spanking kink, and, if I judge by the searches on this blog, it’s a favourite with a great many other people too. If you ask video producers about some of the requests they get, you’re likely to hear that schoolgirl spanking never stops being popular.

There are only so many ways in which you can spank a schoolgirl, only so many scenarios you can come up with. It gets repetitive, it slides along the same rails over and over, and yet we don’t tire of it. Why?

Obviously, I can’t speak for you, but here are some of the things I enjoy about schoolgirl spanking:

• The natural imbalance of power. Be it a prefect or a teacher, they wield the sort of power that lets them impose their will on me without question or appeal.
• Institutional nature. School rules are simple and unbending, and there is no way to escape their strictures. Most people go through their whole lives without seeing the inside of a prison, but for most of us there’s no escape from 10 or more years of obeying the school rules.
• Inherent lawfulness. At least in my fantasies, spanking is the right and proper response to misbehaviour. There’s no dubious ethics involved in, say, offering somebody a spanking as an alternative to dismissal: prefects and teachers are acting in accordance with law and custom.
• Uniforms! Need I explain?

I can take just about unlimited amount of schoolgirl spanking movies and stories. I know they’re very similar. I don’t mind.

How about you? Does the schoolgirl spanking fantasy work for you? Do you know why?

Welcome to the new blog design

So, for my 5th bloggerversary, I decided to make the blog look like it’s 2011.  So, out goes the old three-column design, and in comes the “featured articles” slider and category columns. If you’re reading on RSS, it won’t make any difference to you, but do click through and admire the high gloss.

To make this post more exciting, here’s a picture of a naked bottom: