I haven’t been posting as much as I’d like–but I update my twitter almost every day!

Seriously, it’s hard to manage everything in my little life right now. My baby is like a wild monkey discovering the world, adorable as can be, and man can she wear a mother out! Three days a week I work, balancing the editing freelance work I’ve done for six years now with working for PEP, writing poems, revising stories, and managing my New Mexico FetLifers group. I feel very fortunate to have so many exciting portions of my life revving up, and I feel exhausted each night. I even have an Elizabeth George novel on my nightstand I haven’t touched in days–and as I’ve read my way through her collection, I usually find myself devouring her books.

Still, I like to be busy. It’s always been my nature. Too much free time on my hands andI don’t know how to use it. Then, of course, I bitch and moan that I have no free time … When I first moved to New Mexico from Baltimore, I had about 6 weeks to myself, sans working at all, to “discover” my new environment. I thought I’d take long walks–haha, the 95+ degree heat–even though it’s a dry heat–made for a bigger adjustment than I’d imagined. I felt too out of place to just roam around, and as I have no sense of direction and can barely read a map, I was scared to drive around alone.  I had a television and cable–but I hadn’t had a tv in over eight years, and it rarely occurred to me to turn it on. I was desperately bored and lonely. Then, school started, and within a few months I’d piled myself with homework, teaching, working another job, making friends and planning parties … and the rest is, well, history.

I’ve been wanting to write more spanking porn, and am toying with trying to write a longer piece, maybe even a novel. I don’t know that I’ll have the time to do that in the next few years, but perhaps, I tell myself, when my baby goes to school … I feel like I could put together a story that lasted beyond a handful of pages, drawing upon my experiences and fantasies. The latter part has, after all, been with me and grown for a lifetime.

Speaking of spanking, my favorite subject, in just a week I’ll be packing for DomConLa. Mistress Kara Chains and I are traveling together.  As is her way–perhaps the way of all those pesky Dommy types–she’s been teasing me. Today, she declared she plans to tie me up and spank me, but then she said, “Maybe I’ll just tie you up and leave you alone.” I whined about how horrible that would be, that being bound and then not touched for a period of time is the worst! I’ll just have to up my bratting ante between now and then. We do have a two hour plane ride to Los Angeles–wonder how much trouble I can get myself in while in cramped seats, anticipating a nice  glass of wine and the company of kinksters? I imagine a great deal.

Are we there yet?

Are we ever gonna get there?

God, I’m so tired of being on this plane …

Or maybe I’ll be the perfect little lady, wear a nice skirt suit and sit with my legs primly together.

That trip, I promise, I’ll blog about–probably replete with pictures.

In the meantime, my FetLife group keeps me uber busy. We’re doing a Branding Demo in May with a local artist—I’m tagging it Not Your Mother’s Kink Event. Oh yeah–we’re not talking about a little brand on the ankle. Our demo is of a dragonfly on a sexy submissive’s back. Then in June, we’re having a party at a member’s house–with a pool and lots of space to play!

I do want to write something sexy soon. I’ll just have to dig down deep in my arsenal of personal fantasies and pull out a big gun. Maybe one involving an old-fashioned boarding school … a late night hairbrushing … the fear of being next …

This just in: Kara Chains and I may be doing a shoot with Pacific Force while we are in Los Angeles for DomCon!

I’ve shot for Pacific Force in the past, and I’m happy to say that they are a wonderful, dedicated professional company and a pleasure to spank and end up sore for. They specialize in realistic, often-domestic, disciplinary scenes. You can see me in quite a few vids, including: Spanking Triple Play, Vol. 13 (see me act out a fantasy I’m sure many of us have had: once a nerdy high schooler, I now run a hotel–and extract payment via a red bottom from a former mean girl), Heavy Handed, and Long Overdue Spankings. Spankos might also want to check out the Spanking Symposium I participated in. Jacqueline and Vinnie of Pacific Force gathered with four diverse and unique spank-a-holics, and we discussed the ins and outs of our fetish: how real tears occur; guilt and shame–and acceptance; and role play fun, among other issues.

DomConLA is just a few weeks away … I’ll post soon about firming up plans for firm discipline while in sunny Los Angeles …

In case you missed me on Best Sex Bloggers a few weeks ago, I decided to repost a little story I wrote. Hope it does its job for you .

Weak Inside

I want to wake up so sore that I reach under my pajama bottoms to rub my swollen flesh and then, with the morning’s sun beating against my closed eyes, remember:

You came home last night, excitement turning your green eyes into gems as your gaze held my body in place. You laid a plain brown package on the dining room table.

            “It’s time,” you commanded.

            I slipped out of my sundress, unhooked my bra and slid it from my shoulders, and then, fear fluttering in my stomach, I pulled down my cotton panties.

            “You have gone far too long,” you said, “without a good spanking. Come here.”

            You didn’t have to instruct me. I pulled out a straight back chair from the table for you, and then I draped myself over your waiting lap. My bottom quivered. It had been a long time, so long that each smack stung more than I could remember a hand spanking stinging. I tried to not kick my legs, not earn myself swats on the thighs, not let you smell how wet I already was—though of course you knew. You always know.

            You led me into the corner, that hated spot, where I stood with my arms at my side, pink bottom on display. I heard the bag crinkle, the tap of wood against your palm. When you told me to turn around, I tried in vain to keep my eyes on the floor, for you held a thick wooden paddle, so wide it could cover my ample bottom in one swat. You had warned me, in fairness, you had: Keep it up, Sera, and I will give you a spanking with a paddle that makes you weak inside.

            My thighs almost gave out on me as I approached you. One flick of your wrist and I bent over, put my hands on my thighs, and ensured my legs were sufficiently spread. My thighs ached with the position’s tension; my thighs were moist with the titillation of embarrassment.

            You lifted the implement of correction. I needed it. I admit it without shame: I deserved every stroke, every thwap! of wood against my tender flesh. I needed to be brought down several proverbial pegs, reminded that my bottom does, indeed, belong to you and always will. Deep inside I begged, Please, please fuck me when this is over. My voice only cried.

            My bottom was hot to the touch when you put the paddle down on our glass table. It clinked, and I flinched, and I felt you separate my cheeks. I quaked, feeling your gaze on my littlest hole.

            “You’re still pale here,” you said, running your fingers down the inside of my bottom cheeks. “Get over my knee.”

            I tried to swallow, but the humiliation I knew was coming kept my mouth wet, my lips trembling. I obeyed, I always obey, and I kept my legs open. You pulled my red cheeks apart again, and you tickled my asshole with your forefinger.

            “Do you need me to put my finger up here, naughty girl?”

            “No, please, Sir, no, I’ll be good, I’ll be good …”

            You pressed your finger against my bottom’s opening again. I cringed, then forced my bottom to relax. You reached into that paper bag and pulled out a small hairbrush. I knew then that you had planned this from the start, planned to spank the insides of my cheeks until every inch of my flesh glowed with the same red hue.

            “You know what to do.”

            I rose, placed myself in front of you between your open legs, and bent over. I reached back and pulled my cheeks open. You tapped the hairbrush against my asshole. Please.

            I meant to only think the word—please—but it came out of my mouth. You smacked the inside of my cheek with such force, reminding me to take my punishment without argument, take what I had earned. You tanned the inside of my bottom cheeks even more than you had punished the rest of my behind, and only when I thought I couldn’t stand any longer did that bag crinkle again. Something squished, sloshed, and I felt you lubricating my asshole.

            “You do need it, Sera, you need every last bit.”

            Your finger slid in easily, too easily, for I wanted it, I wanted you to humiliate me standing there, in front of a naked window, my body sweating and open, my bottom thoroughly paddled, with your finger pumping my asshole. You forced another finger in, deeper and deeper, until I cried out, humiliation and pain leading me right to climax.

            Please. Again I said it. You slid out. Please. Oh God. Please.

            You turned me around and kissed me, your mouth wet and sweet. I was panting, desperate, ready to rock myself against the bone of your knee. Please.

            “Go get the strap.”

Outside, a car rumbles down the road, a dog barks. I must leave this reverie, get up and shower, work, come back to this fantasy later. But this I know:

I want you to strap me until I lose my breath, and then sink your fingers into my pussy. I want you over me, breathless yourself with the desire that these acts—punishment, discipline, humiliation—create in us.

            Come with me. The leather of the strap is so supple, and my flesh, god, my flesh, it trembles as I wake.