I find myself frequently thinking that the spanking-repressive nature of our society has limited us from enjoying what clearly is a wonderful expression of fun, connection, excitement and eroticism that so many of us enjoy. For the most part if you find a committed spanko in the U. S. (or it seems most of western civilization) you will find a "closeted" person who likely has spent much of his life feeling guilty about his "PERVERSION." OR..............you could go to the Czech Republic where an old pagan custom..........Easter spanking..........or more likely spring solstice flogging is still practiced as a national holiday and as a significant part of their national and ethnic cultural heritage. What am I talking about? Click the link below:
Pomlazka
I think this should be the new initiative for the lovers of spring everywhere to make this custom become as wide spread here as it is in the Czech Republic. Or if nothing else, we could at least all make it a practice in our own homes next Monday as a sign of diplomatic outreach to our friends in the Balkans.
I think I hear the gentle refrains of "Hands across the waters"
All the best:)
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
4/11/2006
Who Cares?
Someone named john made this comment to Master's post (Recent Troubling Issues) about the disclosures of dishonesty on another Blog : "Isn't it the great work that only counts. And not a couple of stupid people giving money she didn't even wanted ?Who cares ?"
I guess the point of that comment is that there really isn't any reason to hold someone accountable for behavior online; no grounds for expecting people who write in this vein to hold themselves to any standards, and really no basis for us as a "community" to have any kind of ethical code by which we measure ourselves or each other.
I find that sort of thinking to be sad at the very least and dangerous for our "corporate" well-being in general.
My thinking about this falls into a number of different categories. Let me see if I can break it down...
As a first principle, it is my belief that what we put forward publicly here has impact beyond our own lives. This medium takes our words beyond what mere private journaling might do, and sends them out into the public realm. Whatever disclaimers we might make, we all write, at some level, for a public audience. I don't believe public speech ought to be censored by outside entities. I do think that it ought to be understood that it carries with it certain responsibilities. When we speak in public, we are responsible for what it is we say, and we ought to consider the ramifications of that on those who will "hear" what it is that we communicate.
I remember very vividly my own first tentative steps into the arena of BDSM. When I began tryng to find the answers to the basic questions about what this was and who I was in relationship to it, I had no models and no measures by which to gague any of the information I was able to gather. I found some good advisors and informants, and I found a few terrible crackpots. Often they looked a lot alike. The latter crowd, with their foolishness and fantasy, made my journey toward self-discovery very much more difficult than it needed to be as they diverted me into side streets and byways that I need not have traveled.
Always, when I sit down to write of my own experiences, I try to remember that at any given moment, there may be someone who is reading my words and trying to use what I have written to construct a map of their own for their own first journey into unknown territory. That is an awesome responsibility. I can't imagine that what I have to offer is of any use to anyone, but at least I believe that what I put out is as truthful as I can make it. Pick it up and carry it off at your peril, but know that it is the real thing.
Too, I am convinced that each of us, in our personal conduct, reflects on our relationships. How we comport ourselves shows who we are and how we are. My conduct in this part of my life, as in all my other interactions, reflects not only on me, but on the One who owns me. For me to put less than my very best out here dishonors us both. What I write here is at His command. It is my own truth. If there are to be stories of any sort here, then they will be clearly labeled as such, and I'd hope I'd do that well enough to entertain you and honor Him in the doing.
Then there is the business of how we are perceived in the wider community, and how we view ourselves. Are we people of honor? Integrity? Honesty? Can we be trusted? Do we keep our word? Are we good, open, straightforward folks that can be relied upon? There are enough biases about kinky people already. I don't think we need to lay on a patina of dishonesty and subterfuge over the top of that already skewed view. If we are, as a group of people with alternative lifestyle orientations, ever to gain places of acceptance and tolerance in the wider society, we need to understand that we have some responsibility for identifying and correcting errors in our own ranks. To mislead and defraud others for whatever personal motivations is simply wrong, and we ought to have the guts to say so. Likewise, we ought to have the grace to then back off and allow for whatever "rehabilitation" there might be for the culprit.
Finally, part of the reason for doing this, at least for some of us -- at least for me, is the need to create connection with other like minded people. This is a vehicle for making social network. I come to rely on some of the people that I encounter in this exercise to be "friends." Perhaps I will never meet any of my readers and correspondents in real life, but I value the linkages just the same. I don't maintain a vast list of contacts, but the ones I do keep in touch with are important to me. I want to believe that those that have presented themselves in this way are at least to some degree what they say they are. If we cannot believe in and trust one another at some intrinsic level, then the fabric of our relatedness is fundamentally jeopardized, and the whole basis for this sort of interaction begins to fray. For those of us who must, necessarily, live rather hidden lives, that is a great loss. To say that deliberate dishonesty on the part of some does no harm, is simply not true.
So... I will not pile on. I made my judgement about the Blog in question long ago, and elected not to join in the throng that worshipped at that altar. I'll not deny the great talent in the writing and the art that pours forth there. I'll simply deny that the inherent dishonesty is a thing that has effected no harm. That is not reality. We will never be able to measure the extent to which the lies and subterfuge have damaged the net that links us all... I care about that. I care a very great deal.
swan
I guess the point of that comment is that there really isn't any reason to hold someone accountable for behavior online; no grounds for expecting people who write in this vein to hold themselves to any standards, and really no basis for us as a "community" to have any kind of ethical code by which we measure ourselves or each other.
I find that sort of thinking to be sad at the very least and dangerous for our "corporate" well-being in general.
My thinking about this falls into a number of different categories. Let me see if I can break it down...
As a first principle, it is my belief that what we put forward publicly here has impact beyond our own lives. This medium takes our words beyond what mere private journaling might do, and sends them out into the public realm. Whatever disclaimers we might make, we all write, at some level, for a public audience. I don't believe public speech ought to be censored by outside entities. I do think that it ought to be understood that it carries with it certain responsibilities. When we speak in public, we are responsible for what it is we say, and we ought to consider the ramifications of that on those who will "hear" what it is that we communicate.
I remember very vividly my own first tentative steps into the arena of BDSM. When I began tryng to find the answers to the basic questions about what this was and who I was in relationship to it, I had no models and no measures by which to gague any of the information I was able to gather. I found some good advisors and informants, and I found a few terrible crackpots. Often they looked a lot alike. The latter crowd, with their foolishness and fantasy, made my journey toward self-discovery very much more difficult than it needed to be as they diverted me into side streets and byways that I need not have traveled.
Always, when I sit down to write of my own experiences, I try to remember that at any given moment, there may be someone who is reading my words and trying to use what I have written to construct a map of their own for their own first journey into unknown territory. That is an awesome responsibility. I can't imagine that what I have to offer is of any use to anyone, but at least I believe that what I put out is as truthful as I can make it. Pick it up and carry it off at your peril, but know that it is the real thing.
Too, I am convinced that each of us, in our personal conduct, reflects on our relationships. How we comport ourselves shows who we are and how we are. My conduct in this part of my life, as in all my other interactions, reflects not only on me, but on the One who owns me. For me to put less than my very best out here dishonors us both. What I write here is at His command. It is my own truth. If there are to be stories of any sort here, then they will be clearly labeled as such, and I'd hope I'd do that well enough to entertain you and honor Him in the doing.
Then there is the business of how we are perceived in the wider community, and how we view ourselves. Are we people of honor? Integrity? Honesty? Can we be trusted? Do we keep our word? Are we good, open, straightforward folks that can be relied upon? There are enough biases about kinky people already. I don't think we need to lay on a patina of dishonesty and subterfuge over the top of that already skewed view. If we are, as a group of people with alternative lifestyle orientations, ever to gain places of acceptance and tolerance in the wider society, we need to understand that we have some responsibility for identifying and correcting errors in our own ranks. To mislead and defraud others for whatever personal motivations is simply wrong, and we ought to have the guts to say so. Likewise, we ought to have the grace to then back off and allow for whatever "rehabilitation" there might be for the culprit.
Finally, part of the reason for doing this, at least for some of us -- at least for me, is the need to create connection with other like minded people. This is a vehicle for making social network. I come to rely on some of the people that I encounter in this exercise to be "friends." Perhaps I will never meet any of my readers and correspondents in real life, but I value the linkages just the same. I don't maintain a vast list of contacts, but the ones I do keep in touch with are important to me. I want to believe that those that have presented themselves in this way are at least to some degree what they say they are. If we cannot believe in and trust one another at some intrinsic level, then the fabric of our relatedness is fundamentally jeopardized, and the whole basis for this sort of interaction begins to fray. For those of us who must, necessarily, live rather hidden lives, that is a great loss. To say that deliberate dishonesty on the part of some does no harm, is simply not true.
So... I will not pile on. I made my judgement about the Blog in question long ago, and elected not to join in the throng that worshipped at that altar. I'll not deny the great talent in the writing and the art that pours forth there. I'll simply deny that the inherent dishonesty is a thing that has effected no harm. That is not reality. We will never be able to measure the extent to which the lies and subterfuge have damaged the net that links us all... I care about that. I care a very great deal.
swan
Perfect?
One of the authors I love best is Kathleen Norris. She is poet, Christian contemplative, Benedictine oblate, farmer, preacher, and all around fascinating voice. Her path is an interesting, twisty one. She was raised on mainstream Protestantism and, like many of my generation, fell into "unbelief" in her twenties. Finding her way back to church late in life, she has chronicled that journey with some amazing honesty and absolutely stunning writing. I have come to value her books, "Cloister Walk," and "Amazing Grace" as treasuries of jewel words that nourish my heart and my spirit.
"Amazing Grace" takes the scary vocabulary of church, scripture, and liturgy and tries to reclaim it by delving deep into its roots and meaning. Although I don't live in the religious world that Norris writes about, I find her work with language enthralling. There are riches to be gathered in her singing phrases.
One of the essays that seems particularly pertinent to my life has to do with Perfectionism. She writes that, "Perfectionism is a marked characteristic of contemporary American culture, a serious psychological affliction that makes people too timid to take necessary risks and causes them to suffer when, although they've done the best they can, their efforts fall short of some imaginary, and usually unattainable, standard...The word that has been translated as 'perfect' in the New Testament does not actually mean, 'to set forth after an impossible goal,' but rather is taken from a Latin word meaning 'complete, entire, or full-grown.' Nowadays it would most likely mean 'mature.' ... To mature is to lose our adolescent self-consciousness so as to be able to make a gift of ourselves"
Now it seems to me that this is a definition of perfection that those of us who aspire to the slave path can use. To be perfected in this sense is obtainable and worth pursuing -- seeking after maturity, growth, and completion so that one might be able to make a gift of the self. Is this not what it is that we are about?
For me, when I struggle to attach a value to my older female selfhood in a realm that seems overrun with the oh-so-gloriously nubile, it is comforting to apprehend that there may be some worth in maturity that might even be characterized as "perfection."
I know that I have many times been told that I am "brave" to have pursued this life in the face of great obstacles, and at some cost. Perhaps it is only the maturing that allows such risk taking; an understanding that comes with that loss of "adolescent self-consciousness" and permits the wider vision of a certain age.
I've written before that my work causes me to weekly attend worship at the Catholic school where I teach. Although it is not my faith tradition, I can appreciate the ritual in some of its particulars. At this season of the year (Lent) there is a hymn that gets sung regularly, with a lyric that goes, "We offer you our failings. We offer you attempts: the gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt. " I like the notion that there is something almost sinful in not giving our gifts with our whole hearts, and not living out our dreams with our full lives. I have spent plenty of time being frightened and uncertain of this path. I am not always graceful or even particularly happy in my choices about all of this. Still, I have chosen openly and honestly with my whole heart and all my being. I have made the gift with perfect intent.
There have been times along the way, when I have, with just a bit of wicked orneriness, referred to some of the denizens of this corner of the Blogosphere as "The Sweaterset Crowd." They are the ones who are generally squicked by my life and my angst and my sometimes messy fussing. They are quick to opine that my way is not their way, and then equally quick to judge me and mine while claiming to offer comfort and "support." I've generally found them trite, shallow, and annoyingly self-absorbed. Perhaps it is this bit of interpretive language that I lacked, and which would have allowed me to rest easier in the face of those fresh-faced young-uns knowing how far from "perfection" they might yet be...
swan
"Amazing Grace" takes the scary vocabulary of church, scripture, and liturgy and tries to reclaim it by delving deep into its roots and meaning. Although I don't live in the religious world that Norris writes about, I find her work with language enthralling. There are riches to be gathered in her singing phrases.
One of the essays that seems particularly pertinent to my life has to do with Perfectionism. She writes that, "Perfectionism is a marked characteristic of contemporary American culture, a serious psychological affliction that makes people too timid to take necessary risks and causes them to suffer when, although they've done the best they can, their efforts fall short of some imaginary, and usually unattainable, standard...The word that has been translated as 'perfect' in the New Testament does not actually mean, 'to set forth after an impossible goal,' but rather is taken from a Latin word meaning 'complete, entire, or full-grown.' Nowadays it would most likely mean 'mature.' ... To mature is to lose our adolescent self-consciousness so as to be able to make a gift of ourselves"
Now it seems to me that this is a definition of perfection that those of us who aspire to the slave path can use. To be perfected in this sense is obtainable and worth pursuing -- seeking after maturity, growth, and completion so that one might be able to make a gift of the self. Is this not what it is that we are about?
For me, when I struggle to attach a value to my older female selfhood in a realm that seems overrun with the oh-so-gloriously nubile, it is comforting to apprehend that there may be some worth in maturity that might even be characterized as "perfection."
I know that I have many times been told that I am "brave" to have pursued this life in the face of great obstacles, and at some cost. Perhaps it is only the maturing that allows such risk taking; an understanding that comes with that loss of "adolescent self-consciousness" and permits the wider vision of a certain age.
I've written before that my work causes me to weekly attend worship at the Catholic school where I teach. Although it is not my faith tradition, I can appreciate the ritual in some of its particulars. At this season of the year (Lent) there is a hymn that gets sung regularly, with a lyric that goes, "We offer you our failings. We offer you attempts: the gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt. " I like the notion that there is something almost sinful in not giving our gifts with our whole hearts, and not living out our dreams with our full lives. I have spent plenty of time being frightened and uncertain of this path. I am not always graceful or even particularly happy in my choices about all of this. Still, I have chosen openly and honestly with my whole heart and all my being. I have made the gift with perfect intent.
There have been times along the way, when I have, with just a bit of wicked orneriness, referred to some of the denizens of this corner of the Blogosphere as "The Sweaterset Crowd." They are the ones who are generally squicked by my life and my angst and my sometimes messy fussing. They are quick to opine that my way is not their way, and then equally quick to judge me and mine while claiming to offer comfort and "support." I've generally found them trite, shallow, and annoyingly self-absorbed. Perhaps it is this bit of interpretive language that I lacked, and which would have allowed me to rest easier in the face of those fresh-faced young-uns knowing how far from "perfection" they might yet be...
swan
Product Endorsement
OK. I don't know if I've ever done a full on product endorsement here, but this is just too good not to pass on...
If you've been reading this Blog for any time at all, you've probably heard more than you wanted to know about my fragile butt epidermis. Our enthusiastic spanko behavior has left me with a number of spots that break open and bleed whenever we play, and the level of intensity that it takes to create breakage has decreased radically in recent months. Anymore, even hand spanking can bring about bleeding.
It has become cause for concern.
I maintain a dietary regimen of vitamin supplementation that should, in theory, support good skin health, but still the problem persists. I've tried all kinds of creams and lotions and salves and potions. Nothing has seemed to make the least difference.
Finally, just a few weeks after my hysterectomy, I went to the local Wild Oats and gave them some story about how my skin had become very dry and fragile in the wake of my surgery... True to form, the sales person directed me to some high end product with some typical sort of mumbo jumbo, hocus pocus. I have learned to handle the Wild Oats sales technique by smiling blandly, nodding sweetly, and, when they wander off, moving over and down to whatever they DID NOT recommend... There I found this stuff -- Avalon Organics. This moisturizing body lotion has made a miracle!!!
I've been rubbing the unscented Aloe version on my backside twice a day for about three weeks now, and the most remarkable transformation has occured. The skin has become far more supple and much sturdier. I have in the last week or so, experienced almost no skin breaks. It is simply amazing.
So there you go... A first. If you are into the sort of spanko stuff that we are, then this is a product that you ought to hunt down and use. I wish I'd had it before I got into the state I did. I imagine I might have saved a lot of grief, but now I intend to never be without it.
swan
4/10/2006
Making Peace with Reality
It is mid-April, and spring is coming to our part of the world. After a long, dark winter, during which we worried a good deal about apparently unidentifiable issues with Master's health, He seems to be improving daily -- regaining strength and vitality with the lengthening of the days. It is almost as if the turning of the season is restoring His health and wellbeing. This is a very good thing, indeed. One of the impacts of the long uncertainty that He faced about His health was a necessary hiatus in exercise that resulted in some significant weight gain, and a concomitant loss of muscle mass and physical stamina. As His health has improved, so too has His ability to sustain vigorous exercise. This has led to a number of noticeable changes. He feels better, looks better, and to be blunt, performs better.
Therein lies the rub.
In the earliest part of my surgical recovery, there was very little issue with resumption of sexual activity because, to be honest, Master's weight gain meant that His "reach" had been minimized. At the time, that turned out to be "a good thing." Because of His arthritic knees, our preferred sexual position is with me on top, and so we humped away quite happily, and never disturbed the actual incision site in the slightest.
However, lately, He's been working out on the treadmill like a lunatic, and the inches have been falling off Him rather quickly. It is the "Dr. Longerdick" exercise regimen. Suddenly, to my surprise, He is bumping up against the end of what's left of my vagina and the still fairly new scar that must be there. It is FREAKING TENDER!
Damn!
And that's not the half of it. He's horny all the time. Wakes up rarin' to go. Fair enough. Master gets what Master wants, and I'm happy to oblige. Except there's just one small minor disappointment on my part... I don't seem to have any "GO" buttons anymore. The doctor seems to have removed those along with all the rest of the "stuff." I can DO IT just fine, but nothing seems to work to get me hot. No orgasms. Nothing feels sexy. The parts that are left feel like parts, and I can do what's needed to achieve His desired outcome, but there isn't any juice... That surely sucks out loud with a straw.
I remember, back in the days when this old lady was part of the "women's consciousness movement," when we were all telling each other to "get in touch" with our anatomy. We'd sit down with our hand mirrors and explore; do the masturbation thing -- all that jazz. Problem now is, that when I explore the anatomy, it is foreign territory. Doesn't feel like me anymore. More like a sock sewn closed at the top. Kind of creepy.
I'm horny. My mind still "wants." I'd like to feel turned on. I'd like to have hugely erotic feelings about my life, our life. I long desperately for my body and my mind to respond in ways that I remember. It is just that nothing is the same. I seem to have lost all my erotic orienting sense. I don't know how to make this body that I am in work, and I am completely freaked out about it, and utterly bereft. I find myself lying awake in the darkest hours of the night, when it is quiet enough that there is only the sound of my own heartbeat, letting the grief of it wash over me -- mourning.
I am so glad that I've been left with the ability to still give Master pleasure. At least that remains, and makes my heart sing. I'm trying to find my way to some sort of peace with the other. I know there were no choices about the medical route I took to this place. In time, I imagine, I will forget what was before, and this will become the norm for me. Then this will seem less desolate. In the meantime, I am working at celebrating what is good about what I do have -- trying to look ahead more than back.
swan
Therein lies the rub.
In the earliest part of my surgical recovery, there was very little issue with resumption of sexual activity because, to be honest, Master's weight gain meant that His "reach" had been minimized. At the time, that turned out to be "a good thing." Because of His arthritic knees, our preferred sexual position is with me on top, and so we humped away quite happily, and never disturbed the actual incision site in the slightest.
However, lately, He's been working out on the treadmill like a lunatic, and the inches have been falling off Him rather quickly. It is the "Dr. Longerdick" exercise regimen. Suddenly, to my surprise, He is bumping up against the end of what's left of my vagina and the still fairly new scar that must be there. It is FREAKING TENDER!
Damn!
And that's not the half of it. He's horny all the time. Wakes up rarin' to go. Fair enough. Master gets what Master wants, and I'm happy to oblige. Except there's just one small minor disappointment on my part... I don't seem to have any "GO" buttons anymore. The doctor seems to have removed those along with all the rest of the "stuff." I can DO IT just fine, but nothing seems to work to get me hot. No orgasms. Nothing feels sexy. The parts that are left feel like parts, and I can do what's needed to achieve His desired outcome, but there isn't any juice... That surely sucks out loud with a straw.
I remember, back in the days when this old lady was part of the "women's consciousness movement," when we were all telling each other to "get in touch" with our anatomy. We'd sit down with our hand mirrors and explore; do the masturbation thing -- all that jazz. Problem now is, that when I explore the anatomy, it is foreign territory. Doesn't feel like me anymore. More like a sock sewn closed at the top. Kind of creepy.
I'm horny. My mind still "wants." I'd like to feel turned on. I'd like to have hugely erotic feelings about my life, our life. I long desperately for my body and my mind to respond in ways that I remember. It is just that nothing is the same. I seem to have lost all my erotic orienting sense. I don't know how to make this body that I am in work, and I am completely freaked out about it, and utterly bereft. I find myself lying awake in the darkest hours of the night, when it is quiet enough that there is only the sound of my own heartbeat, letting the grief of it wash over me -- mourning.
I am so glad that I've been left with the ability to still give Master pleasure. At least that remains, and makes my heart sing. I'm trying to find my way to some sort of peace with the other. I know there were no choices about the medical route I took to this place. In time, I imagine, I will forget what was before, and this will become the norm for me. Then this will seem less desolate. In the meantime, I am working at celebrating what is good about what I do have -- trying to look ahead more than back.
swan
4/08/2006
Of Scam and Reality on the Spanko Blogosphere
This Blog began at my directive to swan to post her thoughts, feelings, and experiences so that she would no longer feel isolated in her polyamorous, SM, slavery. She did it less than enthusiastically at first, but it wasn't long before she warmed to this task, and what with her beautiful written expression, created an enthralling journal of her life which developed a small following. In that her goal had never been to receive acclaim or disciples, but rather to get her thoughts out, and to find some sense of community, that was fine. She felt insecurity as well. She was approaching the passage into her 50th year and was experiencing women's health issues. She began comparing herself to the younger women she saw on the Internet, and to other Bloggers who were intent on being spankopile guru's. Early on she wrote a post about the absurdity of the Blog accounts in which everyone always had perfect sex, and in which spankings always resulted in blissful eroticism by bottoms who loved being whipped, paddled, strapped, and switched to whatever degree of excruciating severity, without ever having the slightest reaction of resentment or anger. She was sure that they were fantasies written by "wanna be's."
This lead her to write a post in which she compared the reality of our SM poly M/s life to the too good to be true accounts on Blogs like "A Creative Spanked Wife" which may be read through this link:
Time
The reference to "A Creative Spanked Wife" in her post lead that Blog's author, Patty, to write a particularly acerbic resentful comment on how swan had disrespected her "lifestyle," which she later came back and deleted from our Blog.
Imagine our wonderment when we learned Friday that it turns out "A Creative Spanked Wife" has been at best a several year long fantasy story sold to the world as reality and, at worst, perhaps a fraudulent scam. I'm sure the law enforcement folks who are apparently involved will sort out which of those are more appropriate as descriptions of what occurred there (if law enforcement is involved.....one would have to base their knowledge of what is now happening from that Blog, that is already discredited as a source of accurate factual information..............so who knows.)
We still have no desire to develop a following here........well, or perhaps more accurately, we do not write to attempt to "market" to a following. We appreciate very much that people read here and that some have become friends to varying degrees of intimacy. I can say that everything that has been written here has been honest. None of it has been fantasy (unless it was in fact the occasional description of a fantasy and, of course, was represented as such.) None of it ever has been or will be "made up." It is not mostly about spanking in that (unfortunately:) most of our life is not able to be about spanking. When it is about something more erotic or D/s oriented, it is because that was our recent experience.
I want to send my condolences to the spanko's who were taken in by this extended fantasy, and to those who lost money in the process. We know what it feels like to be strung along and to have your emotions played with for the experimental entertainment and edification of others, having fallen prey to that ourselves R/t in recent months. This will pass and you will learn and grow from it. I know it hurts. It will get better.
To patty at Creative Spanked Wife: Girl, you can write fantastically, your art work is truly professional, and I am sure it will be treasured as adult spanking erotica for decades into the future. It is hard to go forward when one has made horrible and hurtful errors. You are not the first human to have erred, nor will you be the last. Hang on. Get support where you can. I hope your future is not sacrificed in this. You like all of us have gifts to give the community.
"Real life is stranger than fiction," is not simply an adage. It is truth.
All the best everyone:)
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
This lead her to write a post in which she compared the reality of our SM poly M/s life to the too good to be true accounts on Blogs like "A Creative Spanked Wife" which may be read through this link:
Time
The reference to "A Creative Spanked Wife" in her post lead that Blog's author, Patty, to write a particularly acerbic resentful comment on how swan had disrespected her "lifestyle," which she later came back and deleted from our Blog.
Imagine our wonderment when we learned Friday that it turns out "A Creative Spanked Wife" has been at best a several year long fantasy story sold to the world as reality and, at worst, perhaps a fraudulent scam. I'm sure the law enforcement folks who are apparently involved will sort out which of those are more appropriate as descriptions of what occurred there (if law enforcement is involved.....one would have to base their knowledge of what is now happening from that Blog, that is already discredited as a source of accurate factual information..............so who knows.)
We still have no desire to develop a following here........well, or perhaps more accurately, we do not write to attempt to "market" to a following. We appreciate very much that people read here and that some have become friends to varying degrees of intimacy. I can say that everything that has been written here has been honest. None of it has been fantasy (unless it was in fact the occasional description of a fantasy and, of course, was represented as such.) None of it ever has been or will be "made up." It is not mostly about spanking in that (unfortunately:) most of our life is not able to be about spanking. When it is about something more erotic or D/s oriented, it is because that was our recent experience.
I want to send my condolences to the spanko's who were taken in by this extended fantasy, and to those who lost money in the process. We know what it feels like to be strung along and to have your emotions played with for the experimental entertainment and edification of others, having fallen prey to that ourselves R/t in recent months. This will pass and you will learn and grow from it. I know it hurts. It will get better.
To patty at Creative Spanked Wife: Girl, you can write fantastically, your art work is truly professional, and I am sure it will be treasured as adult spanking erotica for decades into the future. It is hard to go forward when one has made horrible and hurtful errors. You are not the first human to have erred, nor will you be the last. Hang on. Get support where you can. I hope your future is not sacrificed in this. You like all of us have gifts to give the community.
"Real life is stranger than fiction," is not simply an adage. It is truth.
All the best everyone:)
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
4/03/2006
PMS?
OK. Math lesson. Take 51 and subtract 13. Multiply by 365.25. Then divide by 28. If you do that, you will come up with about 459 menstrual cycles over the course of my lifetime. All those bouts of PMS. Somethings, if you do them often enough, long enough, regularly enough... well, a body remembers.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, I have no earthly reason to be having PMS anymore. But you couldn't have proved it by me this weekend: lower backache; tender boobs, and pissiness that would have gotten someone killed if I'd had a gun handy. Lucky damn thing that I tend toward the pacifist side of things!!! Maybe it is that there are still tendrils of estrogen floating through the system. Maybe the endocrine system is more widely proactive than we thought, and refuses to give it up just because some lunatic with a knife yanks a few errant organs. Maybe it really is cellular memory that just simply KNOWS that it is THAT TIME of the month, and surgical interventions be DAMNED!!!
At any rate, there wasn't very much that didn't hack me off this weekend. I was "bent" over pretty much the whole state of the universe. Feeling crappy didn't help. The sweeter than syrup cooking chicky on T's cooking channel made me want to murder someone with a spoon. The fact that there were "family" festivities to partake in did not make me feel all warm and fuzzy. That the whole bloomin city was abuzz with joy and excitement because our esteemed President was coming to town to throw out the first pitch at today's opening day game for the Cincinnati Reds baseball team just made my hackles rise. That Master found some perky chick doing a podcast on poly that He insisted on playing the whole time I flew around like a wild woman, trying to get everything crammed into entirely too little time yesterday afternoon made me want to cram His laptop into some anatomically improbable places. Well, you get the picture...
Added to the fact that I ran smack into some new territory on my road to post-hysterectomy sexual functioning that I wasn't prepared for and wasn't expecting on Saturday morning (maybe another post -- maybe), and I was dropped right back into wondering why I ever agreed to the damn surgery in the first place. Nevermind that there really were no options. And yes, I know that the medical realities were that I was way more medically compromised than I knew or realized at the time. Still, it sucks and I'm pissed and not happy and scared and freaked out and wishing it would all just get magically fixed like right now.
There.
Done.
Pout.
swan
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