Creative Spanko Wench Blog

First the frivolous stuff:

My laser color, printer, scanner, copier will print and copy, but neither of my computers will recognize its scanner … same with my old ink jet photosmart 3 in one…. So I’ve given up. After uninstalling and reinstalling them several times with no luck, I’ve uninstalled both from at least my mac book and ordered a new printer (I just love easy pay on HSN - 3 easy payments that just mean no Friday nights out for a few weeks - and immediate delivery, not to mention that the list price is 45 bucks cheaper than the same all in one I scoped out at best buy… First I’ll take my laptop to geek squad and make sure there’s nothing hinky in my photoshop software blocking scanner recognition.

Then I can catch y’all up on my new drawings.

I need a spankin but good tonight. I actually just need some human contact.

Now the life stuff:

Been crying over some sudden and sad family stuff, and fighting lack of ambition that comes with exhaustion. I flew home all of a sudden last Friday using standby tickets all the way. I wasn’t just stressed by why I was going home, I was distressed by the way my boss seemed more concerned by whether or not I could get back to get my assignments done for the next week. And when I called my good chatty friend I woke him up, instead of telling him the whole thing, I just said “I’m quitting this job.” He was exhausted, not feeling well and not in the mood to listen to me rant about work, so he declined to have the conversation at that moment. So then feeling lost and flailing in unexpected phone space I lashed out and said “OK then don’t ever call me again if we can only talk when you’re free and on your terms.”

Then even because of work, my boss’s narrow view, having no sick time and not being eligible to use my accrued vacation, when things started gelling in my heart and becoming clear this was not an option. I went home. I called my friend and left him a cryptic apology.

I had amost two days to see him (no names, no relationships) wake up, get off the breathing machine and talk with him about silly stuff and serious stuff. He asked me to help him make family and friends clear that he did not want to be kept alive on machines. I begged him not to make me do that, but it ended up that I did that, and we all witnessed his signature on that order. He had a lot of pain and was in and out, but I still had time with him for a few really loving moments filled with memories, wishes and dreams. The docs gave us a guarded thumbs up and transferred him out of ICU Sunday morning. He told me to go home, he insisted he was fine and told me in tears that he was really glad I came.

Someday soon, I’ll share just how close this person was to me, the antics we got up to in our years growing up together and the reasons he’s one of the most important people in my life. Just not now, ok, I want you to laugh with us, not cry…. and crying’s all I’m able to manage right now.

Work was stressing me out. I did have a lot to do. So, I gave in and kissed him goodbye, warned him he’d better listen to the nurses and stick to his physical therapy or I’d be back ready to shoot his ass. Then I caught an easy standby afternoon flight on the 1st 2 legs back home. By 4 PM, ready and tense about my second of 4 legs, virtually every darned airport in the US north east was shut down or backed up with planes trying to land in bad weather. We managed to land in a major hub, but once on the ground there was no where open to fly out to, and then that hub closed to all traffic too, so I spent the next 18 hours waiting, trying to sleep on the floor with my computer bag as a pillow; and then as morning daylight (dismal lightning filled daylight) and several more hours of “FDA has closed us due to weather, please be patient ” dawned I tried hopelessly to keep napping, and then when the sun came out … waited ‘hope fully’ if ‘helplessly’ for space on 4 different flights.

Needless to say, with all the delayed and cancelled flights due to weather, standby flyers get last dibs after redirected fliers. I did get to Houston, but too late to get on a flight home. I called my boss and told him I would be late, but hopefully should make it to work by noon. I did get a hotel bed in Houston, but was so wired worrying about needing to get to the airport by 6 AM to catch the one flight the attendant said might have space, I got almost no sleep. I needn’t have worried. They gave 4 fliers free travel vouchers for giving up their seats to standby folks or others displaced by cancelations. Didn’t help me. I was #6.

Unless I wanted to change carriers, pay full fare (way, way beyond my budget) and fly into an airport 30 miles from my car and 45 miles from home, I had to wait for a standby space. Finally, by 5PM I got the news that I had a seat on a flight that would get me home after 7:30 PM. I got home, called my boss and said I would try and get to work Tuesday, but I’d been without real sleep since Friday. He just aid, so you’ll be there tomorrow? I restated that I’d try.

My mind spun out of control all night and I got no sleep. I called my boss again, I just couldn’t make it. I made the call at 4 AM left my home # and left it at that. Wednesday was worse. Another sleepless night and then Thursday morning my blood sugar was 48, I woke up dizzy, nauseated and starving. I ate two large peanut butter gobs and some cheese, and called my boss. I wasn’t going in again. I called in and spoke to all required humans. They didn’t really care, just was I going to make it to the Friday staff meeting. I promised to try.

Then:

Last night I got the call that he passed in his sleep Thursday afternoon while I was deeply asleep. It was a very good thing I went home when I did. I got to see him alive and spend some quality time with him. I can’t afford to go home for the funeral ($800 -$1200 standby ($2400 if I pay full fare and buy actual seats). It’s almost half my monthly income and I just can’t do it. People will think I’m shallow that I’m unable to loose two whole weeks of a 4 week paycheck. plus another 7 or more days because I decided only to visit him in what I couldn’t really know were his last days and then cheeped out going to the funeral of the best buddy I’ve ever had. Trust me my mind is still trying to find a sane way to do it. Make ends meet so I can go back…..

Here’s my peace: He knows I came on time to spend time with him before he died. I got to surprise him, kiss him, and laugh, and cry with him; and I got to just be there while he slept. I know he’d laugh at me for buying a new scanner tonight. He’s one of the only vanilla people who knew everything about my life and he was all for living and being pragmatic about who we are and what our world is with a smile. If only I could be him …. I can only be some one he loved and influenced …. greatly influenced… he talked me into using diaries and letters and giving everyone pattyandFred … He never let me forget what an ass I was hiding from the hate when things got so hard….. maybe I owe him… and Fred. I think I’m ready too.

I know he could have coped with the long course of painful physical therapy he faced, but I think God gave us those hours when he woke up lucid after the doctors told us his brain injury would make that unlikely. We don’t know what took him. It was sudden after what every one who visited and the hospital staff said was a “good” day. I’m guessing that all the pins and skrews securing his pelvis and both of his thigh bones combined with the trauma to his head that hamstrung his medical team’s choices for preventing clots explains it.

He was T-boned by a SUV that ran a stop sign. No drugs, no alcohol, just plain old end of a work day pre-occupation.

I did make it to work today and found strength in the support of friends even though they never knew him. Life’s changed again.

sigh…

But I did enjoy the after effects for several days. Nice marks and some residual tenderness…. all the better to fuel ruminations and such.

Just an update on the diabetes front … last high sugar reading - noon on April 1 = 122. Reading just now 88. 7 day ave. = 92; 14 day ave. = 96; and 30 day ave. = 111. Worked a lot last week, had some stress to deal with, but still managed to stick to my diet.

Hope you’re all doing well.

patty

Good Friday,

Mine started out with a whiney moan - “pillow, please pillow, shackle me to this bed I don’t want to go to work.” I stretched and yawned and let myself languish for a few minutes, and of course you know that my hands found my bottom. A Alas even though the alarm clock never went off, I was awake and on edge. I had to be at my assignment by 8:30, and there was big city rush hour and cab response time to contend with. I elected to get to the lobby and call the cab for 7 a.m. It arrived at 7:10 a.m and delivered me to my destination at 7:24 a.m. “Duh patty,” I growled at my self. “It’s a holiday.”

I was more than an hour early! Man o man I was cursing that pillow. It knew. I know it knew that I had another hour of snooze time and I think it secretly snickered and is still snickering. [Sunday I’ve got to catch a plane home… wanna bet that pillow withholds again… do I get up and catch the shuttle 2 and a half hours or 1 and a half hours before departure? I think I’m going to be contrary and go for 2 hours even… ] You know the pillow knows right? It is all knowing and it’s mean. It wants head time and it’d try and keep you there with it forever if it didn’t have your responsibilities and deadlines to contend with, so, having lost out after so many ‘play hooky’ collusion attempts it just sneers and ignores your pleas. I think all pillows should have to go to sensitivity training and that’s what should be on the ‘do not remove’ label they are sold with.

Alone in the lobby of the suite where I was supposed to be acquiring some work essential software skills, I picked up an AARP magazine, and started reading. I got half way through it before anybody else showed up, but you know what I discovered? AARP articles are nice and short; informative, and short. You can finish reading an article in just a few minutes and you come away with information, ideas, stuff and references you can actually use if you want to pursue the topics further.

The work was tedious, thankfully the cafeteria was open for breakfast/morning service, I’d skipped out of my hotel in such a hurry, I forgot to take my Januvia and only took a bottle of water with me for breakfast. I had two tubes of mozarrela string cheese in my purse, and they served as breakfast. It was the 3 gram carb diet Welch’s peach juice I bought from the cafeteria during the morning break that helped get me through lunch when I discovered the cafeteria was closed and I had no independent transportation.

I was starving, but afraid to eat anything with too many carbs because I’d forgotten my medicine. Thankfully one of the departments (related to the one I work for) in the building had a ‘store.’ For a dollar I was able to get a huge (humungous – seriously) dill pickle (the only low carb option they had) and a large bottle of water.
At the end of the workday, when I got back to the hotel I was sure my sugar would be high due to starving induced ‘liver dump’ and the stress of calling cabs and dealing with a boring class that I could have taught ‘stress.’ Well it wasn’t. It was 108 mg/dl. Wow & whew! I took my medicine and settled on the sofa to catch up with e-mail, family etc.

My spanking partner arrived in a little while and we had a nice long chat not to mention a pretty terrific supper. Mine was a huge steak & grilled monster asparagus. He had steak too, but I had to rescue his steak from stray skinny asparagus stalks that were touching his steak. LOLOL. Seriously! My side order of huge grilled asparagus had an amazing crust of burnt parmesan cheese on and around it and when I offered him a nibble he said “No, the asparagus has touched it too long.” I just had to laugh. I’m still laughing.

[A hearty meal and a really long evening of spanking and at bedtime when all the stress and effects of my day should show in my system, my blood sugar was a perfectly normal 97. I thank goodness for the drug researchers who created Januvia and of course I thank very, very, very, very, very goodness for the sage education and advice my doctor has given me. [No more than 10 gm of carbs per meal and less than 25 gm / day if possible.] I’ve been watching my food intake with care, and so, I was even able to be 9 hours late taking my meds & my sugars didn’t spike. ((yes George)) I’m really diabetic, I guess being scared shitless has made me make changes I’ve known I should have made long ago, and now I’m seeing how immediate the impact of those changes would have been from the start. But here I go again, I digress…]

We chatted and watched TV longer. We had more time.

But, time or no time, a spanking there would be. Ropes came out and so did a hint that I would be nude (my top would come off,) before the night was over. As it turned out flexibility and spontaneity prevailed and neither of these eventualities came to be. The spanking that ensued didn’t need these extras. It was well and truly complete and perfect on its own.

On Thursday he’d discovered something. Taking control of pulling my pants off and baring my lower half was a powerful, if shivery thing for me. If I have to do it there’s a whole different dynamic than if he does it. I like them both, but I associate me pulling my pants down with serious spankings and him doing it with He is in control and there will be some fun spankings. Not the same thing at all. He discovered that he liked the tentative shiver my body surrendered when he did it Thursday, so he decided that he’d do it Friday too, only this time I was standing and facing him.

I had to pee first…. and he let me go….

I know because of how we’ve meshed that emotional hurt and humiliation are things he can’t/won’t imagine doing to even with a willing partner (which I will never be where those two things are concerned.) –[My take: Consensual pain isn’t hurtful and limits crossed in knowing regard for a partner’s limits, with whole or limited consent isn’t humiliation.]

I shivered when he pulled my jeans down, I’d left the zipper down expecting what was coming. I wish I hadn’t – I know I’d have kept the auditory memory of that unzipping in my memory forever. Instead I have a sweet giggly memory of his acknowledgement … “ Oh, you didn’t even close your zipper.” And my reply, “no ‘cause I knew you were gonna pull it down in a minute anyway.”

I shivered when he unbuttoned then pulled my jeans down. I started to help by stepping on the denim so puling my foot out would be easier, but he stopped me.

“I’m doing this, if you need to lean on me to keep from falling you do that. I’m taking these off.”
Then came my panties. I kept my eyes locked with his. He was enjoying this. I’m pretty sure I blushed red hot, and then guess what he wanted to do first?

Any guesses? ………………….

Sheesh,,,,,, the silence is deadening, but I guess that once I tell you not a spanker among you will be surprised.

He turned me around, pushed my torso down and examined his handi and leather and wood- work from the evening before. He wanted to make sure that a small blood blister that came up midway through hadn’t broken.

“Oh look, there, you’ve got some bruises,” he chuckled, but there was worry in his voice. He ran his fingers over them, and I didn’t feel any pain, so I reassured him they were just fine. They were evidence of just how far wonky straps and multi twig cane ends stray. Most of the bruises were inside the tender diamond where upper thighs meet butt cheeks and inner thighs merge with the sexy bits.

It was time for spanking. He picked the two most handy pillows to place for me to lean over. I said, “those are down pillows.”

He said, “do we have any foam that will keep you up?” and I dutifully admitted that all the other pillows including the huge European shams were foam. [I always ask for a couple of down pillows when I stay in hotels. I sleep on down at home, and I find my neck gets too kinked if I can’t mold my pillow to support my neck and let my head smush just right. Ooooops another digression….]

Firmer foam pillows were placed and I held back.

“Get up there now, you know the drill,” he was ready. I was too, but there’s always that moment where I have to adapt to the pain that’s going to be first even though my sexy parts have been working up to this all day … [it took three wipes after I peed to dry those other juices!]

This spanking began with his hand, and he set a steady cadence on one spot that my right cheek quickly embraced. I wiggled in the middle, he laughed. I was close to cuming by the time he got to 100. The left cheek was next, another 100, then he asked me “how was that?” and I answered “green,” and giggled. Well now that was probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever said. But then being smart and having a smart mouth are actually contradictions in terms, so no one should be surprised by what followed. Another 50 centered on one cheek first and then repeated on the other. My butt churned trying to get the other cheek in the way of the one he was targeting. My lord he has a deliciously hard hand!

When he stopped I admitted that I was very hot, and asked if he could tell. At first the slick evidence of just how his ministrations worked on me was confined inside, but a few deeper probes toward my clit and he said, “Oh yes, there it is,” and so began the first interlude in our spanking play. I came four times, and collapsed before #5 could crest the hill.

That treat required payment, and since my butt wrote the check, it paid. His toy, the one born of mischievous thoughts and idle time, got lots more use (honestly I think the leather has gotten such hard use these last two days that it’s begging for a proper landfill repose.]

He flicked it. He flicked and flicked and flicked it and flicked and flicked and flicked it. And then after playing with my bottom like that for an unfathomable period of time he had the chuckling teasing audacity to tell me that he was ‘just’ flicking me. My butt had been twisting and gyrating wildly to escape every ‘flick’ the whole time! He knew darn well it was stinging. I couldn’t help it, I giggled and giggled and wriggled and wriggled. In case you’ve ever wondered, flicking produces a sting that remains sting and can’t every become zing. Yes it’s sexy as heck, prolonging the whole experience because it’s not something an already sore butt can fully adapt to. One reason of course is that no flick ever lands in the same place twice (especially with wonkily cut strips of an implement born of a dedicated spanker’s idle time.) The second is that I just don’t want it to stop until I find the pattern, while I just can’t keep from reacting to the sting either.

We took an intermission. I stayed where I was supposed to be (butt up over pillows), he reclined on the wheeled desk chair with his hand on my back. CBS was on the tv, and whatever follows that took his attention while I dozed off. Something about suicide and “I’m not watching that shit,” brought me to. I reached back ad stroked his thigh, we talked, again about everything, anything and nothing, and then it was time for the spankings to resume.
I had a long strapping with the blog strap and another near bliss inducing long, long, long tawsing. Of course before he started with the tawse he teased me.

Several hard whaps and he asked me “what’s this?” I said “the tawse.” “Really?” he said and then he whapped me again several times with the real tawse. There was definitely a different sensation.

“What is it?” his chuckle was gleeful. Then he alternated, tawse, ‘thing,’ tawse, ‘thing.’ I was stumped and wriggling like crazy.

It was a loop of the rope we were supposed to be using! My goodness! So rope was used during our play that night, but not the way he’d planned to use it.

After that he decided he wanted to see where my limits for that session were. He really let me have it with the tawse.

“Is it yellow yet?” he paused and asked me.

I struggled.

“Say it,” he chuckled.

I giggled, my desperation to get away was way too close to the surface, I said “yeah.”

Several more times he challenged me with both his voice and hard licks of the tawse aimed low and setting fire to my weakest most tender spots. I was stubborn too long for my own good, but eventually I did say “Yellow, yes, yellow.”

It was a good stopping point as it so often turns out when plans are circumvented by spontaneity.
TV watching, some heated chatter about current events and the news, and the time came for him to go home and me to go to bed. It was close to midnight. I’m not a stay up late person…. Night night.

***

On Saturday morning, nearly noon, I’d just gotten up to pee and take my Januvia when guess who was on the phone. Some plans had shifted and maybe we could play again that night. That would be nice, but so would his making time for the other things he needs. I was hopeful, but not really set on it.

***

I used my quiet Saturday afternoon to finish my Thursday write up and I enjoyed a very special afternoon connection with an old (semi-old) friend. I had coffee, he had French onion soup, we talked, and we caught up on several fronts.

***
Saturday spankings were not in the cards, but my Saturday ended up being blessedly refreshing anyway.
Annnnnd remember that nasty pillow? Well, this morning it let me get up at 9. My flight wasn’t scheduled till 12:35. My breakfast came at 9:45 and as I was eating it the phone rang it was himself … we chatted for sometime, and then I got up and into the shower. I caught the 10:30 shuttle to catch my 12:35 flight. I was there at 10:40 & through security by 10:55. More lost pillow hours!

Thunderstorms delayed my flight for well over another hour and I just know that darned pillow is still snickering and lying in wait for the next tired traveler who might beg for just a few more minutes of sleep…
Home now, a long and full week is in my future… glad I got this written before work cut me off,

Hope y’all are well.

;) patty

A hello hug and some catching up, and then the segue.

“Let’s try this out shall we?” he said, and I watched him roll his chair over closer to me while he formed and then crossed two loops in one of two lengths of nylon rope that he’d taken from his duffle. He had mischief shining in his eyes, and I should have known he wasn’t just testing out an idea. Nooooooo. He was hatching a plan…………

At first the loops placed around my wrists were loose. “How’s that?” he asked.

“Not too bad,” I answered, my mind was racing.

Then some additional winding twisting and looping, and there was much less slack. When twisting my wrists (or should I say trying to twist my wrists) I discovered that my wrists’ range of motion in any direction was controlled by a hard stop. Too much twist and my bones bumped either rope or each other.

“Too tight?” he grinned.

“Well, no, not if I don’t twist my wrists.” I could have lied and said yes, but I was curious, and you know what they say about curiosity don’t you…. Sitting there with my wrists daintily folded in his hands was quite comfortable as long as I didn’t pull or twist against the rope.

“Then don’t twist your wrists,” his smile was evil, and then he pulled me up to my feet.

There was a brief suspension of time while furniture was rearranged, and then I found myself over the arm of the sofa with my sweat pants and panties being removed. I could support my torso on my elbows, but pushing up so my chest was off the seat cushions made my wrists twist enough to encounter the hard stop right over that outside wrist bone at the end of my right arm.

I don’t recall which implement was applied first, but I do recall the sting.

Multiple rounds with different toys brought forth many “oooooh’s! and aaaaaah’s! and giggles from me. And here’s one of the best signals that we are well matched as spankos, several times when particularly stingy swats landed and I could not control my giggle, he leaned down and tickled my neck and ear with “Te he he! I love that giggle,” then he went right back to whacking my poor (lucky) bare bum.

The spanking was well underway, and I was past that initial adaptation to pain stage and getting in to the delicious sting stage when he interrupted our play to retrieve something from his duffle. He’d told me about a creative project he’d engaged in during some idle time he managed to scoff earlier in the day, now he wanted to show it to me. No, show it to me is not the right word. Demonstrate its diabolical functionality is much more descriptive of what he really wanted to do.

[[How not to (or if you’re a mischievous spanker how to) recycle old leather belts: Cut a good 12 - 14 inch section and then cut slices at random widths leaving enough of an end to be a handle. Don’t worry if the slicing tool strays and you get side cuts and different lengths of strips. Just wait, you’ll find out why variable lengths of leather in your make shift tawse-cum-flogger are diabolical. Of course I must acknowledge that recycling is environmentally friendly. Then again when the environment most affected ends up being my lily white-pink bottom, well, I guess it’s better than having all that leather pile up in the landfill. But I digress….]]

And demonstrate he did.

“Oooooh, hey, owe!” I giggled even more, and as things progressed the demonstration impressed three pieces of information on me.

Number one, pushing my torso up off the sofa cushions causes wrists to twist just enough that when the rope has been tied by a seasoned rope guy, that wriggle room hard stop will be encountered.

“Oh, Owie!”

Number two, diabolically recycled old leather belts modified with wonky blade strokes do not confine their impact to the area of bottom being aimed at. They have bits that stray and find narrow clefty places and when they dooooo, well, pushing ones chest up off the sofa cushions becomes instinct.

And then number three, when my arms so wantonly betray my so artfully restrained wrists, and my torso raises up, the diabolical implement gets used with more intent, and it finds even more tender places for its wonky strips to stray to.

I dropped my torso pretty quick and reverted to wriggling my bottom and kicking my legs. A lot more stinging whaps and a good deal more giggly “ouches” followed and then there was another brief suspension of activity.

“No don’t get up,” his chuckle was infused with more mischief.

I buried my face in the sofa cushions, half whining and half laughing. “Oh no, what now?”

And then he was down on the floor behind me.

“Spread your feet apart,” he said using his hands to help direct my ankles.

“More rope!” my mind churned.

First my right ankle was secured to the back leg of the sofa and then the rope was slung across to the other leg. Dumb me, my nervous energy caused me to move my right foot back toward the middle.

“Oh, now that’s not good,” he laughed. “I’ll have to fix that.”

He directed my errant foot back to the proper sofa leg, and proceeded to modify the loops he was making around my left ankle. He was satisfied, and stood up. I discovered the effect of my blunder. Now there was no slack, and my legs were secure and spread apart!

“Thank you for showing me that I needed to pull up the slack.” He patted my bottom, and then he got hold of my blog strap (the gift from some of my readers.) Oh man! Sting and burn, and now my inner thighs were far too easily accessible.

I thought I was already well and truly spanked. As it turned out we were not even close to halfway through.

“You know, your bottom is nicely red,” his smile was audible. He was definitely proud of his hand and leather work.

I giggled and said something silly like, “done red or not red enough yet red?”

I got the answer pretty quick when I heard and felt the whistle sting of the Cane-Iac 5-twig spanking cane. He likes that one. He really likes it.

My bottom likes it too, but my thighs and inner thighs! “Ohhhhhhh! Man o man!” It makes my giggles increase in frequency, that’s sure, but it also makes me wiggle and squirm and that sometimes increases the stray factor of toys with multiple tails and tips.

I know we continued to play for quite a while, but as I got deeper into the wondrous state where sting and pain turn into a bliss inducing zing, I lost track of what was used how. The tawse (another of his favorites) came out and both ends were used with some force. His diabolical leather creation got quite a bit more use too.

We reclined on the bed for a while after the main spanking was over. Our chat was easy and rambled over countless subjects from his work, to my work, to gas mileage, to spanking, to spanking web sites, to health (his and mine). I showed him my glucose meter with my 7, 14 & 30 day averages all under 120.

Quiet time had to come to an end though, it was getting late and both of us were tired. I’d been up since 3 a.m. doing a surprise off shift inspection, then rushed to catch my flight, check in to my hotel, shower, then get to the assignment that brought me here, finish the first 4 hours of it and cab it back to my hotel.

He started our ‘good nights’ by pushing me over so I was prone on the bed and really popped me for a good long hand spanking, and then finished with the tawse, giving me some real bum burners and a nice long volley of moderate strokes, the kind that sting just right and build up to a perfect burn that would keep me warm all night.

Our evening closed with a good night hug in the doorway of my hotel room, with me in my t-shirt, and exposed bare and apparently very red bottom tingling in anticipation of a Good Friday night.

And it was going to be a very good Friday….

Tease, tease, tease….

No pics from this visit I’m afraid. I forgot both my camera and my cell phone charger cable. Both highly spankable offenses I know, but trust me that has been well and truly dealt with this weekend. More about Friday is in the works…

[Edit: 4/11/09, 7:00 p.m.

Oh my, I’ve been reminded of something that for some reason escaped me as I gave you my recounting of Thursday evening’s activity. There was a bit of activity that sort of snuck in between our quiet time and the end of the evening prone spanking.

For the life of me I can’t imagine why it escaped my fingers as I typed this. It’s certainly not that I forgot that it happened that’s for sure.

I was given even more education on Thursday evening, and the primary lesson I’ve taken away from it is that – when taken by surprise during a quiet moment, if you are curled on the bed innocently watching TV and your are wearing only a t-shirt, that a determined and gleeful spanker can get your legs, twist you on your back and spank your bum in a position ignominiously called the “diaper” position before you’re even aware it’s happening.

In case you’ve never ‘enjoyed’ this experience, may I please share these tips?:
• hand swats to butt cheeks make full contact and fingers wrap and sting a lot,
• twiggy multi strip canes and wonky cut leather creations find even more ouchie places for their errant tips/strips to stray to, and
• solid leather swats across the whole expanse of bottom do not bridge the divide, they scald the puffy islands in the stream/valley between the mounds.

Just so ya’ll are more prepared than I was…. ☺ I should have been wary, but ya’ know, I was just so cozy. He’d asked about it and explored it in conversation many times in the past. I shared my reticence (the exposure and all ya’ know?) but left it there for him to opt for. He’s getting to know what I can’t do, he’s getting to know what I’m uncomfortable doing and he knows that when all he gets is a blush and a shrug he’s hit on a ‘now there’s an idea worth pursuing.’ The diaper position inquiry was one of those blushed shrug things. I should have seen it coming.

There was a nice and instructive interlude of this play between quiet time and the prone good night spanking and hugs…

I’ve been told that this omission will cost me. Lordy, lordy, lordy … I can only ‘anticimagine’ or maybe ‘fanticimagitipate’ just what that means…. there you go… full disclosure.]

My blood sugars have stayed in the normal range for 5 straight days. 7 day average 108, 14 day average 111 and 30 day average …. ta da …. 119.

Aaaaaannnd….. things are looking up for some serious spanking activity tomorrow night. I sure hope I’m awake for it. Gotta get up at 3 a.m. and do a surprise night shift inspection, then hit the office to write it up before hopping on a plane to get to my next assignment before noon.

I’m going to use some of my points to extend my stay in the city where I’ll be working tomorrow. That should increase the odds for a few spankings fitting in.

Should spankings occur details will follow.

:)
patty

remember my last post where I set my next goal ..”So next goal, 7 and 14 day averages below 120 and at least 3 days with no readings over 120.” Well today, only 2 days withall readings in the normal range, but with the past few days of good readings seem to have made another change up, todays normals brought my 7 day average to 111 (the 191 from last Sunday morning dropped off my 7 days, my 14 day average is 120, and my 30 day average down to 134. I have normal 7 & 14 day averages and two full days of normal…

Oh and the universe willing that all thing go as planned, some spankings are in order very soon. I have a congratulations session coming for passing yet another national certification exam in my longgggg nursing career as well as some good natured stingers for finding certain “that’s life” type things funny. Then again I have uncounted less fun whaps coming for self doubt, general whining, and of course boring bitching. Could be the stars are lining up to take care of these things. We’ll see soon enough.

Back to drawing. Night ya’ll.

patty

Remember this one?

Well, I got the wish I was hoping for related to my blood sugars. Morning = 118 (normal), noon = 91 (normal) supper = 100 (normal) and now right before bed = 109 (also normal). My 7 day average is 124, and stranger than strange my 14 day average is 119, thirty days has really come down from the high 200’s to 144, but really the 200’s were really the readings from my 1st week skewing everything. I have only just reached 30 days today so the drop from the high 200’s to 144 actually shows that overall my progress has been good. So next goal, 7 and 14 day averages below 120 and at least 3 days with no readings over 120. After that 30 days below 120 and then only very rare days with any reading over 120.

Next wish … getting spanked again soon. Looks like that just might happen within the next two weeks, maybe more than once. Keeping fingers crossed. Send positive thoughts this way ok?

Going to try and write some more spanky stuff this weekend, and get my scanner problems solved.

:)
patty

Long long day. Got on the road at 7 AM, and spent all day working like a demon to get a three to four day assignment finished in the two days allotted. Finished at 9 PM and then drove home for the next hour and 40 minutes. Pardon the baseball diamond maintenance analogy that follows, … but it fits what I do now…. . Didn’t have time to fully clear off all the bases we needed to, as well as I would have liked, but left feeling like the work (uncovering) we (me and my team mate) did get done will result in meaningful improvements in some base maintenance… and just have to have faith that there will be a future opportunity to better scrub off the few bases we could only dust and not get a real good look at, or better yet that the questions we asked and evidence we asked to look at telegraphed enough concern that we won’t have to dig or scrub to clean those still not fully uncovered bases next time because ‘fair warning’ motivates wise folk to get those barely dusted bases ready for next time…

I’m pooped, but wired.

My blood sugar this morning was 91. Best morning sugar in 12 days. I didn’t get to check mid day, but did get to eat a nice all you can eat salad and side of grilled chicken (no bun, no fixins etc) and a small scoop of cottage cheese mixed with pico de gallo for dessert. Good thing for the hefty lunch since that was my last food until 8 pm when I ate two wrapped string cheese snack things. My blood sugar a few minutes ago was 122. Not bad, but not within normal either. Actually considering the missed supper, the long day and the VERY serious stress (better word is terror) of being the passenger with a driver who talks with both hands and looks at you rather than the road when he’s talking while driving 80 mpi on a highway under construction for 40 minutes, and then answers his cell phone holding it with one hand and drinking bottled ice tea with the other for the rest of the drive to work where my car was parked… (I still had 40 minutes further to drive) …. I think 122 tonight was pretty good, since stress and missing meals seems to push my sugars up more than eating does. Even so, I’m hoping for the day when diligent diet and exercise rewards me with a whole day of normal blood sugars… (need one actually … don’t want any temptations to give up…. ya know?)

night, night….