M is for... MAN!

I'd like to take a moment to share my idea of a real man. These are in no particular order, but for me, both in my books and in real life, these are the traits a real man should possess:

• Kind: He should be kind and caring, always. In other words, he's a genuinely nice person to be around; empathetic and sympathetic to the needs of those around him.
• Self-confident: He should know who and what he is. Not to be confused with arrogance - instead he's aware of both his strengths and weaknesses.
• Strong: Of course, physical strength is a bonus, but I'm talking about inner strength here. He has to be strong enough to go after what he wants, to make decisions, to take care of himself. 
• Humorous: This one is a no-brainer. I can't resist a man who can make me laugh.
• Intelligent: He doesn't have to be an astrophysicist, but whether it's books or general knowledge, he's smart. He can teach me something I don't already know.
• Insightful: He can read his partner's moods, he can understand why or how she's feeling a certain way.
• Generous: I don't need a man to keep me - I make my own money. I'm talking general generosity; a man who will share his time, love... and chocolate. 
• Kinky: This definitely wouldn't apply to everyone, but *my* perfect man is kinky as fuck. 
• Protective: Is it just me, or is a man who looks after his family, friends and woman not irresistible?
• Dominant: This one goes without saying. My perfect man knows what he wants; especially from me.
• Romantic: Little notes left lying around, compliments, remembering his girl's favourite food, drink or erogenous zones... there are so many ways to be romantic.
• Faithful: Goes without saying. Even if the relationship is an open one, he doesn't hide other women from you. 
• Reliable: If he says he'll do something, he will do it. Nothing worse than a man you can't depend on.
• Honest: White lies are okay. Real lies are never okay.
• Humble: The perfect man is readily able to admit when he's made a mistake. After all, nobody's perfect!

What about you? Do you have any 'ideal man' traits I forgot? Please leave your comments below!

~ Tabby x

L is for Letters...

So far, my blog entries have all been vaguely about BDSM and all its subgenres... but for the letter L I wanted to go a different route. I could have picked 'latex', 'leather', 'lace' or even 'lust' - but instead I chose 'letters' - the kind you write, not the kind in the alphabet.

When was the last time you received - or wrote - a real letter? A handwritten one, on paper, not an email or a text message... 

I always used to love getting letters in the post... that interminable wait, the stamp, the envelope, the handwriting, the way every single one was unique and I knew it had taken time and effort to compose and send.

These days, sending 'snail mail' has become something of a forgotten art, but the beauty of letters seems merely to increase with time. Take the following example...

A love story; a tale of a man and his wife, their son and their baby daughter, born while her Daddy was away fighting during WWII.

For four long years, through trials and tribulations, the man wrote to his wife every single day. He thanked her for parcels she sent him, the cakes and biscuits she baked, the way she was raising their children, he told her how much he missed her, how much he loved her, how beautiful she was. He lied to her to protect her, to make sure she wasn't worried about him. Some letters were short, some were long; some were melancholy and others were more upbeat, but he wrote to her every single day, no matter whether he was in a field, a bunker or the barracks.

Until he was killed.

It's a tragic story, but it's also a beautiful one, and I for one am glad those letters withstood the test of time and can touch people even now, some 70 years after they were penned.

Love and hugs,

~ Tabby x 

K is for... Knives!

I love knives. Love them. Edge play, knife play, sharp, shiny blades... they make me squee like nothing else. Here's an excerpt to describe just what knives do to me - this is from Sharing Silver. Enjoy!

She was unable to tear her eyes away from what he was holding, what he had obviously been keeping in his belt. A shiny, ornate, glittering knife.

"Get up," Trevor said roughly. Once she had done so, he wrapped her hair around his fist and drew her close to him, bending her backwards and kissing her fiercely, on and on until her knees felt like water.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispered, his eyes boring into hers.

Silver didn't know how to respond. She wanted to tell him how devoted she was, how much she wanted to please them both, but instead she gazed at him, helplessly. She could feel the pulse beating in her throat.

"Ready for her now," Travis said, from the corner.

"We're gonna start with a little exercise in self-control," Trevor went on, still gripping her hair in the most deliciously painful way. "I like to set a girl on fire. Master Travis, on the other hand... well... you're about to find out. Go to him, Silver girl."

He released her hair then, and gave her a gentle push towards where Travis was standing beside the spanking bench. It had been realigned to resemble a table.

"Lie on your back, Silver girl," Travis said. "We're not going to restrain you. Yet."

"Like I said, self-control," Trevor added. "You have to remain completely still... can you do that?"

Almost frozen with both lust and fear, Silver nodded. "Y-yes, Master."

When Travis once more produced the knife and laid it across her throat, she felt herself gush. They must have really studied my intake form, she thought irrationally. I think I underlined 'edge play', 'knife play' and 'breath play' three times, and even drew little stars around them.

"Such pale, satiny skin," Travis was almost growling, his eyes blazing with intensity. "You'd better not move, Silver girl. I'd hate to cut you. Well," he chuckled, "unintentionally, anyway."

As he began to draw the blade across her chest, she moaned at the sharp sting. Her nipples were so hard she was sure they could cut glass.

"Does that feel good, baby?" Travis crooned, drawing lines of exquisite heat over her breasts and over her belly.

Already incapable of coherent speech, Silver moaned, her fingers gripping the sides of the table so hard that her knuckles were white.

"It's such a clever thing," he went on, "it feels like I'm slicing you open... but I promise you I'm not."

Silver wasn't too sure whether it really mattered anymore. She trusted both men implicitly, but there were certainly worse ways to go.

"And now for the test," Trevor said, and she felt his hand slide between her thighs. "I'm gonna make you come, Silver girl, and you are going to have to remain completely still throughout."

An unearthly, guttural groan echoed around the stone walls of the dungeon, and she realised it had come from her, as Trevor's fingers found her straining, throbbing bud and began to caress it, lightly.

"Don't you dare fucking move," Travis reminded her, the knife still trailing sharply across her lower belly. "I'm serious, Silver girl. If I wanted to cut you, I'd be using a scalpel and doing it properly."

A shudder threatened to overcome her, and she realised she was biting her lip, hard. "Pl-please, Master, please may I cum?" she whimpered.

"Can you do it without moving?" Trevor's fingers were insistent, ruthless, manipulating her clit with a precision she could never hope to emulate, not even herself.

I don't care if he cuts me, I need to come! "Y-yes, Master, please..." she pleaded instead. She looked down and saw the gleam of Trav's knife tracing faint scarlet lines across her pale skin and then, beyond that, Trevor's dark eyes as he watched her intently. His delicious lips moved before she heard the word.

"Now."

***

J is for... Journey.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved reading, adored writing, and got a very funny feeling whenever she heard the words, 'spanking', 'over his knee', or 'punished'. 

As she grew older, she began to realise what exactly those feelings were, and even though she thought she was a freak, even though she wanted more than anything not to combine those feelings with those words, thoughts and fantasies, she failed.

Absolutely certain that she was the only one in the whole entire world who felt this way, she began to write little stories for herself. For her own eyes only. These stories were about naughty little girls who were Spanked and Punished - almost always on the bare bottom, almost always by a stern, loving Daddy who did it For Her Own Good Because He Loves Her.

One day, when the little girl was all grown up - on paper, at least - she decided to find out whether anyone else had ever had the bright idea of writing stories about that exact same thing.

She found Bethany's Woodshed, and discovered that not only was she not the only one (by any stretch of the imagination), but that she, too, could send in something she'd done and fulfill her lifelong dream of being a published writer.

The rest, as they say, is history - now that same little girl not only writes books about her favourite subject, she also gets paid to edit them. Who says real life can't have a happily ever after?

Thank you for reading about...

Tabby's Journey x

SpankA2Z Blog Hop: I is for...Intensity.

Intensity.

That sexy glint in a man's eye when he's hurting you... you know it, he knows it, and you both know he's not going to stop until he decides you've had enough - until your panties are soaked and you're begging him to with your eyes.

The timbre of his voice when he gives you an order, you hesitate, and he says, "Now."

That split second of time in between when the cane strikes your flesh and the pain hits.

How hard you come when he's been keeping you on the brink for what feels like forever and then finally gives you permission.

The peak of the burn in your clit when he's swiped it with Tiger Balm just before taking you out for dinner.

Intensity. I love it.

H is for... Helpless

One of the things I love most about this kinky little world of ours is the way the slightest, most simple nuances can shine a whole new light on any form of conversation, situation or scene.

Picture it... you're bent over and you can feel the goosebumps on your flesh, the cool whisper of air brushing your bare skin, the prickle of anticipation tingling up your spine as he raises the implement with which he's about to punish and hurt you.

And now picture the same scenario - only your wrists are tied fast and your mouth is gagged.

Doesn't that add an entirely new layer? A slight hint of danger, a little more trepidation... not to mention quite a bit more excitement - at least, if you're anything like me. 

Whereas before, you could still move, could still potentially run away (although there may be consequences for that later on), you're now powerless to resist. You can't protect yourself. Shit, you can't even call out and beg for him to stop.

He is in complete control.

You're helpless.

Don't forget to check out the other amazing blogs - I certainly intend to, and as always, I adore and welcome your comments and thoughts. 

Huggles,

~ Tabby x

June A-Z challenge: G is for - Belt!

I know what you're thinking: "Silly Tabby, belt doesn't begin with a 'G'!"

Well, duh. But in German it does. "Guertel". Belt. Since I'd already done 'bastinado' for 'B', I decided to take a little creative licence...

And besides, I have a 'thing' about belts; as a spanko, as a submissive and as a red-blooded girl.

I'll be honest, I was going to use 'G-spot' for the letter 'G', but then I changed my mind. Why?

Because as you've undoubtedly noticed, I've already fallen behind in this challenge, and I was told that if I hadn't finished my blog entry about the letter 'G' by the time he comes home, he'll see what he can find around the house that starts with a 'G' to punish me for it. But was that a threat or a promise?

*gulp*

Is there anything - anything - quite as irresistible, terrifying and seductive as the sound a man's belt makes when it's pulled from its loops? As knee-wateringly faint-making as the sight of it being folded in half; the tinkle of the buckle, the dark sheen of the leather?

And then he tells you to bend over, to prepare yourself, to bare your skin to him so he can bring that belt whistling through the air to strike your flesh until you're writhing in delicious aroused agony, desperate for him to stop and yet desperate for him not to...

For me there isn't.

And now I'd better post this, before I find myself in just that predicament. On the other hand, maybe he'll see that I was a good girl and I'll get a reward - bet you can guess just what I'd like that reward to be...

Thanks for reading, please comment and check out the other fab blog hop participants in the linky list below.

Much love,

~ Tabby

#SpankA2Z The letter F is for... Face Slapping.

I must admit I started this month's blog hop A-Z challenge with no clear idea of whether or not I'd even stick to any kind of theme... but, as is so often the case, one seems to be appearing without my conscious involvement.

Where I am at this point in my life and development is leading me to a lot of self-reflection and exploration, and I suppose it's therefore logical that at least some of that would make it into this, my blog. 

Some authors put on a 'face' for their readers/fans, and every word they say on social media is carefully constructed, designed to increase sales and strengthen their specifically chosen image.

I'm not one of those authors.

In this, as in real life, I tell it like it is. I'm just me. Yes, I write fiction, but that's pretty much where any exaggeration, bending of the truth or just plain fantasy begins and ends - and even then, I can't hide myself. I wouldn't want to.

With that being said, this blog challenge is also making me start to explore subjects I hadn't really considered thinking about before. And I'm enjoying it. 

In real life, I like to experiment... one of my favourite mottos is: I'll try anything once. Twice if it hurts. And I don't shy away from many of the more extreme BDSM practices, even though most of them will never make it into my books, which are, after all, primarily romantic spanking erotica. I wouldn't want to frighten anyone. 

However, this isn't one of my books, this is my blog, so I think it's a great place for me to a) examine my own opinions on some of these practices and b) get your opinion on them. I do like to hear what others think about stuff - I'm a very curious little Tabby-Cat, after all.

Which brings us to today's post: face slapping.

I chose this subject because it absolutely fascinates me. And it does so because I'm so incredibly ambivalent about it. 

If I'm watching a movie, and a guy slaps a girl in the face, my instant gut reaction is a mixture of disgust and horror. How fucking dare he? It's violent, it's derogatory, it's insulting.

But it's for those exact same reasons that, when a Dom does it to me (when I'm in the right headspace, mind you, not just coming up to me and whacking me across the face while I'm washing up), I melt. It puts me into the most submissive but most liberating frame of mind - one I'm not even sure I can explain properly. 

I'm forced to ask myself: why? It's not the most painful thing anyone can do to me, nor the most insulting, nor even the most humiliating. But for me personally, it's just so incredibly taboo.

It goes against everything I've been taught as a girl who was born in the late twentieth century and now lives as an adult in the twenty-first. It goes against everything the man who's hitting me has been taught. It's Just. Not. Done. Men who do that are scorned and reviled (and believe me, I am not advocating it unless done with full consent and prior discussion within a D/s or DD or whatever relationship), and seeing a man slap a woman hard across the face is (and should be) enough to have any sane onlooker calling the police.

And still I get off on it when it's done to me. 

Case in point: I just searched and searched for an image to insert here - an image where a girl/woman is having her face slapped. I would have settled for a nice old picture; a movie still perhaps, from back in the day when it wasn't quite as taboo to slap (or spank) your woman - but I came up completely empty. There are, on the other hand, loads of pictures of men being slapped in the face. By both men and women.

Was there ever a better illustration of a double standard? I have never, ever, ever slapped a man - or a woman, come to think of it - across the face or anywhere else, for that matter. No doubt it's partly because I'm naturally submissive and a pacifist, but it's also because I have respect. I respect people - even in a vanilla setting. I've had partners cheat, say horrible things, mistreat me terribly, and still I've never even considered slapping them. 

So seeing a woman do it to her boyfriend or husband provokes the same reaction in me as it does when the genders are reversed... revulsion. Physical violence should never be the answer - to anything.

Well, at least, not without consent.

What are your thoughts? Is it something of a trigger for you? Do you like the thought - or, for my fellow lifestylers, do you enjoy it being done to you (in the relevant setting, of course).

Please feel free to comment away - and don't forget to hop on over to the other blogs. 

~ Tabby x

E is for... Edging!

Edging: keeping yourself on the brink of coming but not actually getting there (yet)... I don't think there are many things out there which are more erotic, agonising or delicious.

After all, the best things cum to those who wait...

Even better is when it's done to you.

Picture it... You're nearly there. You can feel yourself tense, the sensations are building, you're gripping the sheets and you're so, so close...

He's watching you intently, noting every nuance in your expression, hearing every gasp and moan as you start to beg him for permission - to please let you come, please, please, you'll do anything - and there it is: that flash of a sadistic glimmer in his eyes even as his fingers/dick/whatever the fuck is getting you off right now don't ease up,..

"No."

Your body obeys even as your first thought is of what will happen if you don't... if you can't help yourself, if you lose control. 

That only makes it worse - that threat of punishment - but you manage to hold off, to exert every last ounce of self control you possess - and then...

...it starts all over again.

Just... nommy.

D is for... Discipline, of course!

"Go and put on the punishment dress." His voice is soft but stern - there will be no argument.

I freeze for the briefest second as my heart begins to pound in my chest and my pulse quickens. "Yes Sir." The words come out without conscious thought, it's an automatic submissive reaction, one I couldn't stop if I tried.

"Good girl."

It's a ritual; one he chose and and I agreed to. The punishment dress - well, really it's a very short silk nightie - hangs in the bathroom, as a constant reminder that I'd better behave myself, otherwise I'll be putting it on. Whenever he chooses to, he'll tell me to do just that, and from that moment on I have ten minutes to 'prepare myself' - have a last cig before I die, visit the bathroom, do whatever I need to do be ready for my discipline and get into the right headspace.

As soon as I've swallowed hard and managed to regain control over my breathing, I head for the balcony and light up, closing my eyes and appreciating the heady mixture of terror and excitement coursing through me.

On my way back to the bathroom to put on the nightie, he glances up from the couch. "Hurry up," he says.

"But you said I get ten minutes!" There's a definite whine in my voice - not to mention the fact that I'm protesting - and I don't miss the instant flicker of disapproval in his eyes.  

Sometimes I really don't think before I open my mouth.

"For that you're getting an extra one."

"Yes, Sir." I'm meek again, mentally kicking myself, already feeling guilty for my protest.

The nightie is made of silk and as it whispers over my otherwise bare skin, I try unsuccessfully to stop the goosebumps springing up all over my body. By the time I've gone into the playroom, my knees feel like water.

I kneel and bow my head, not knowing how long I'll be there, waiting. Six full-force strokes of the genuine, heavy, painful-as-all-fuck prison strap, plus one for my stupid outburst. Idiot.

He has the brown one. Lucky me. Used to make hardened 

criminals yield... now about to be used on a little girl in a silk nightie. 

Seven strokes of anything don't sound like much, and I can certainly take more, but these will be different. Full-force means they will be delivered on my bare bottom as hard as the man can hit. He was in the military. He's huge. He can hit hard. And this is a real, genuine prison strap, made of thick, heavy leather. Each stroke covers almost my entire ass, and it feels as though I'm being branded with a smouldering iron.

No warm up. No comfort - well, at least not during my punishment. If I'm good and take it stoically, he might toss the strap aside afterwards and plunge himself into my wetness, hard and fast, using me for his pleasure, not allowing me release. If, on the other hand, it gets to me emotionally and I'm sobbing with contrition, he might help me up and comfort me - after I've taken all seven strokes, that is. Not before.

Behind me I hear the door open, and a trickle of terrified excitement slips from my core. 

Discipline always does this to me.

***

Hope you liked my real account of a session I had... one of many. Please feel free to comment and don't forget to visit the other #SpankA2Z blog hop participants!

~ Tabby x

     

June A-Z Spanking Challenge - C is for CUDDLING!

Welcome to my post for today... and thanks so much for commenting so far. I've been busy these last couple of days but I took a break from doing some very naughty things with a new play partner to blog about today's word: cuddling.

It's so often underestimated but cuddling plays such a huge role in any relationship - especially one with a DD or D/s element.

I like to use the expression 'light and shade' - and that goes for everything, in all aspects of life. There can be no joy without sadness, no highs without lows and no pain without pleasure... at least, not for me. The experience of one greatly enhances our appreciation of the other.

As some of you may already know, I've moved back to Germany for a couple of months. It's where I was born and, even though I didn't grow up there, I did spend my teenage years and my early twenties there. I still have family here and it seemed like the next logical step - hadn't seen my Mum for a year and a half, for one thing, and after 6 months in Thailand, I really really missed some typically 'German' things  - cleanliness, for example, and potatoes. lol.

Anyway, I'm a little painslut and I write (and edit) spanking/bdsm books full-time. I love it, but it does have one downside - if I'm not 'getting any', the frustration builds quickly. So while I'm not looking for Mr Right or a committed relationship, I am certainly open to meeting a friendly local sadist to meet up with when I reach that point when I can't sit still or concentrate on my work because all I want to do is be used, hurt, spanked and just plain dominated until I'm a little puddle on the floor, 'weeping from both ends'.

So I put out some feelers and found someone far more quickly than I'd anticipated. And when I told him I still needed to write a blog entry, and he told me I'd better do it otherwise I'd be in Big Trouble, the first word I associated with 'C' was cuddling.

I've played with a number of different Tops, Doms and real, honest-to-god-he-can-only-get-hard-if- he's-really-really-hurting-me Sadists, and while they're all different, most of them don't really cuddle. Of course it depends on the relationship, but I'm talking purely from a play perspective.

So when I got talking online to this guy, whom we shall affectionately refer to as Sir B, we chatted about everything under the sun and, of course, pain... the delivery thereof and the light and shade I was talking about earlier. On that subject, he said something which fascinated me:

"Do you know what I really like to do? Apply light and shade simultaneously. I love to cuddle someone and hurt them at the same time... and comfort them while I'm doing it. Doesn't mean I ease up on the pain, though."


Right there, I melted. The little masochist inside me who craves being hurt by a man who gets off on the look in my eyes when I'm suffering for him just dripped into a little puddle of goo.

But this blog is about cuddling. Long story short, I met up with him. And yeah... he's a Cuddler. With a deliberate capital C. I couldn't believe that this huge bear of  a man (and he's tall AND broad) could be so gentle. Funny. Easygoing. We met in public (as you do) and went to a museum and out for some food and talked and laughed and chatted, and there were brief glimpses of his dominant side - but only in the sense that he likes certain things done a certain way and is quick to tell me so.

Even so, I kept looking at him and finding it hard to picture 'playing' with him... hard to imagine that he had a sadistic bone in his body.

Until I found myself in his arms, being cuddled, his fingers twisting my nipple until I could barely stand it, and he was whispering comforting, sweet nothings in my ear even as he twisted harder... 

Like this post? Please check back tomorrow for the big D word and don't forget to hop on along to the other wonderful participants in this blog hop.

Hugs,

~ Tabby.

Spanking A-Z Challenge... B is for Bastinado

We all like spanking on the butt. It is, after all, the most common place for a girl (or boy) to be chastised soundly.

But there are other body parts which, if done correctly, can also be whipped/flogged/beaten/spanked... with an equally intense, albeit different, effect.

Breasts, Back, Thighs, Genitals... they all lend themselves well to a bit of a beating, provided you use the right implement/s and know how to do it safely.

And then there are the feet. Flogging of the feet, also known as 'Bastinado' is my word for today's blog post. Why? Good question. Perhaps because it starts with a B. Perhaps because I think it's time our poor, oft-forgotten tootsies are given some love (in the form of carefully applied pain, of course!).
Or, perhaps, just because I don't think it's mentioned enough in the spanking romance genres... at least not in the books I've read. But why?

I've tried it (then again, I've tried almost everything)... and it was interesting. Intense. Like suspension bondage, fire flogging and a million other things I've tried before, it was new, unknown, therefore exciting. Did it push my buttons the same way a good old, honest-to-god-you-are-in-for-it-now-my-girl spanking does? No. But that's okay.

There are squillions of nerve endings in the soles of your feet, and here's the thing, they all run up through the rest of your body. In the same way that massage can reach pressure points in your soles to help with ailments elsewhere, a sharp flick of the cane can send waves of pain spiralling up right through your entire being. Which is absolutely exquisite - if you happen to be a masochist, doing it consensually and the Top knows what he/she is doing.

Just as with flogging, Bastinado was used as a form of torture (probably still is, in places) - and in that way it is horrid. The feet are far more delicate than you'd think, considering we spend so much time resting all our weight on them, and blows which are too hard or in the wrong places can easily break bones and cause all sorts of nasty damage.

But having said that, under the right circumstances, a gentle to moderate whipping of the soles of the feet can be a very pleasurable experience, and I'd like to see just a little more of it in fiction.

What about you? What parts of the body would you like to see spanked or whipped or caned occasionally, other than the butt, of course? Please comment if you like and then hop on over to the other lovely blog participants in this #SpankA-Z challenge. 

~ Tabby x

A is for... Asking for it.

It's one of the hardest and yet sexiest things to do... be made to ask for a punishment. You know you've done wrong, you know you're about to 'get it', and yet you're still put in the position where you have to swallow hard, bite your lip, and actually ask for what you're about to receive. 

"P-please may I be punished, Sir?" 

All the other aspects of discipline aside; the waiting, the scolding, the Look your Dominant gives you when you've been naughty... even the receiving of punishment itself - nothing makes me feel as submissive, as ashamed, as small as when I'm made to ask for it.

Some might argue that it's a consent issue - and for some people that may be the case. But for me, it has nothing to do with that. He will spank me anyway, regardless of whether I ask him to or not. (He'll just likely do it harder, or for longer, or both, if I don't.) 

No, for me it's not a consent thing, it's all about the headspace. If I've done something bad and I'm about to pay the piper, having to ask for my spanking/belting/caning/strapping puts me into a better emotional place to receive it. To work through my guilt. To atone.

Atonement. Damn, now that would have been a good word for 'A'. Ah well, next time.

Having said that, what are your thoughts on having to ask for a spanking? Please feel free to comment and hop on over to the next blog taking part. 

~ Tabby x