Spankfully Mine

I salute the Big Bang Theory for their humorous spanking scene on this week's episode The Fish Guts Displacement  (on CBS). *Salute* Although Pura would like it mentioned that this type of behavior should not be encouraged by Hollywood, or next thing you know everyone  will be doing it.  Ha, ha, Sweetheart! We now have the TV Gods in our corner. *Salute to the TV Gods* 

Let's pretend this did not just happen and I am telling a story simply to pass the time before the big Thanksgiving Day meal... Once upon a time a perfectly sweet and innocent girl had a slight  disagreement with her lover. The lover--let's call her Mistress--was big and mean and completely irrational. She pulled the sweet girl over her knee and spanked her rather soundly! For no good reason at all! And then had the nerve to say "Happy Thanksgiving!" Humbug! She's crazy. Oh, Pura! Silly girl. I'm just going to tell the TRUE story, rather than the insane fairy tale you are telling yourself: Today is the day--you know the one. It's the one day of the year where a family can gather together, all at one table, in the brisk fall air, before a magnificent feast, and verbally tear each other to shreds. Happy Thanksgiving. Pura and I decided to opt out. I told my family a very convenient lie that I am just too loaded down with work to make the trip. We a

Mistress, as you probably have figured out, has a pretty low tolerance for irresponsible behavior. I get it; she's older and has had her fair share of experiences to teach her about the harsh realities of life. *Shrug* I'm 21. We went to a party a couple nights ago: one of those ridiculous costume extravaganzas that happen around this time of year. I wore my "Little Red Riding Hood" costume, because it is the only one my lover approves of outside of the house. It's slightly less-revealing than some of the other costumes I brought from my life before Mistress. So, party at Mistress' friend's house turned out to be a little dull. Mistress and friends laughed and joked about stuff like the presidential debate (Snooze!) and mortgages... or whatever older, more boring people talk about. I know! Eye-rollers and people turning away from the screen now: I'm in college and those kinds of things should matter to me. But they don't. And if Mistress wa

Readers, this is a  entirely fictional story written on behalf of a dear friend. (wink-wink. You know who you are. And yes, I am up past my very strict bedtime.) My challenge was to write a platonic spanking scene that was purely DD, and not too cliche. You will have to let me know if I was successful. The story: Amber and her roommate locked gazes as soon as the door opened on its rusted hinges and let Felicia in. In the blue-hued light of the TV, Felicia could see that Amber’s eyes were swollen and red, and the shoulder of her tee-shirt had obviously been used as a makeshift tissue. She was wrapped around the teddy-bear Mya had given her and was eating the full tin of the disgusting holiday popcorn Felicia’s mother had sent them for Christmas. On the table behind her the foil-wrapped homemade candies appeared to have been ransacked, and Felicia did not dare approach it for fear she would be witness to the aftermath of Amber’s holiday-treat massacre. “How was your date?”

The new school year has arrived Pura and I have a system in place for homework completion. The day she attends class, she completes the homework so it does not weigh her down. Now, of course, that does not always work out perfectly. When she is writing a paper, for instance, she cannot expect to complete the entire thing in one sitting. For these types of homework assignments, she creates a schedule and is expected to stick to it very strictly. Well, classes just started, and in honor of the new school year, I got Pura a day planner. It smells of leather and fresh, unused paper, and virtually begs to be written in. Every Sunday I go through and plan my week, and I thought it would be a fun activity to do together (not really fun), and it would help her stay organized. So last week we sat down for our first weekend planning session and we went through everything, including meal plans and errands. There was not one time period over the week that was not fully planned and accounted

I thought I might never blog again, but little persistent Pura keeps bugging and a couple swats hasn't discouraged her nagging. I permitted her back into the blogging world because she would not be silent, and now she roped me back in as well, even though my life is incredibly hectic these days. There have been unbelievable drains on my time and energy over the past month or so. And Pura is not exactly counted among those drains. Family, work, the never-ending life-sucking on-pain-of-death responsibility I cannot mention here, has me literally too exhausted to more than glance at the blog. I haven't even dared to read Pura's last entry, for fear I may see something that I cannot simply forgive. Anyway... Here's the cyber-spank story: I came home from a recent business outing. I was happy to be home, and I even managed to climb the bazillion flights of stairs without huffing and puffing too much. I was hoping to surprise Pura, so I put my keys in the door sneak

I tend toward philosophical writing, but I know the readership of this blog is not reading for philosophy. Please indulge me: Mistress is going camping. While that in itself is not a philosophical topic, there is a philosophy with my being left behind. Poor little Pura, left all alone at home whilst Mistress whisks away into the dark recesses of the mountains to "get away from it all." All all? It's a camping ground, for heaven's sake! It's not as though you can get away from it all when you're sleeping in a camp ground surrounded by other strange campers, and a restroom is ten feet from your tent. Camping seems like an activity made for the rugged outdoorsmen, who carve themselves a place out of the wilderness and hunker down for a week of catching their own meals and growing long, grisly beards. Mistress is what I like to call... indoorsy . To this girl, camping is when she can't get room service to her hotel. When she has to carry her own bags to h

Dearest Readers- I sometimes think that the most obnoxious thing about life is the constant, nagging, annoying need for other people (no insult intended). Thus, I am back in the blogging world and I suppose I may be here for awhile. Sorry about the hiatus. It was necessary for some perspective. New story soon to come... -Pura

Dear Anonymous, Your anonymity is not free reign to be markedly disrespectful or unkind. I do not moderate comments on this blog, because I believe in free speech and the right to air grievances. Of the few times there have been blatantly disrespectful comments, I have removed them without question, comment, or response. I did not give them space on the blog, but rather addressed any concerns therein in the story I selected for the next installment of our blog posts. But recently there was a comment made that I have decided to address directly. Not because I am fed up with comments. By all means, comment away! We love the interaction and it is part of what keeps a blog from becoming stale. This particular commenter accused Pura of some pretty harsh crimes after having read the trilogy of "Arrested" posts. Here is my response, reader, and please pay close attention to the meaning behind my strong words: Pura belongs to me. She is my loving, delightful, precious little

This story is about what happened near the beginning of our time together. We were adjusting to life in our new Vanilla-ish BDSM lifestyle. We were still very new and learning about each other. I was learning you were bossy. And I was learning you only hear what you want to hear. *Pouty!* Here goes: _____________________________________ Pura was the easiest person in the world to get along with. Her desire to please and willingness to submit meant we never had an argument. She was true to her word that she would trust me. She yielded to me every time there was a disagreement. The first time it happened was our last day of classes. She announced she should get a job. “Why?” I asked. It was an innocent query without any judgment from me yet. “Classes are over now,” she told me as she wiped the counters down after dinner. “You only have a couple weeks of work left and then you’re off. I am not taking summer classes; I could get a job and help pay the bills.” The idea

If you have been following the recent posts, you know that Pura and I are engaged . We finished our eternity-long visit with my family and are finally home again. We're happy to be home. Pura has already started laundry and is breaking out the mop and vaccuum (even though she did that the day before we left.) I offered to help, but she just gave me a skeptical look that in sub-speak means "go away." Then she sweetly suggested I update the blog. I am watching her now as she ties her hair up in a bandana and is starting the mop on the kitchen floor. Her little ring keeps catching the light from the windows and winking at me. Marriage is the last thing I would have expected for my life. I have never thought about it seriously. Possibly because marriage is stated as a union between a man and a woman, and I could not imagine that ever appealing to me. But there is something very satisfying in the idea that Pura will be mine forever, by vows in front of an assembly, and even

That's right--new post on the heels of yesterday's new post, and we usually don't do that, Pura and I, but this could not wait. Trust me. And if you need to know what led up to this, you may want to start here  or even here at round two. ______________________________ This is the conversation I had with my sister in the car on the way to lunch, after leaving Pura in the hotel for a while on her own... to get into all sorts of blogging mischief, but we'll get back to that later. The conversation: "You're kinkier than I thought," my sister Julie teased me as we walked away from the hotel. "You have no idea." I glanced back at my beautiful Pura, standing in the doorway with her hair mussed and her eyes bright. She looked shocked that I was leaving her. As always, she looked beautiful when freshly spanked. Her cheeks glowed with color, and she had a submisive pout to her lips. She's so beautiful always, but there's nothing quite

Yep, Round Two! I am screaming inside, and a little outside, but quietly because I am in the hotel and I don't want to alarm the neighbors. Today, when we woke up, I was a little bratty. I'm tired and tense, but no excuses. Mistress has been her usual attentive self, and that was bothering me, too, because when I am bratting, sometimes I want her to be bratty back so I can feel justified. But she never does. She's all like "This is so sad that you feel this way" and "This must be very difficult for you." Bleck! Finally, I think she had had it. She turned off the TV and said, "I think we had better talk." My brilliant answer? "I don't want to talk!" And the eyebrow... "Pura, I did not ask you if you wanted to talk. I said we had better. And right now. Sit down." I narrowed my eyes at her, silently asking "Or else, what ?" and her eyebrow raised higher. That was the silent "I dare you to challen