Saturday, June 30, 2012

Mr. and Mrs. Draper

This show enthralls me. At first, I started watching for Jon Hamm... because let's face it. He is the perfect man. But then I started feeling a strange, strange addiction to the show, to Don Draper, the character, and Betty Draper.

There is a scene where they have a fight, and Don says to her wan, defeated face: "It's like I'm living with a little girl." Why do those lines echo in my head, days after I've watched that episode? Why does it prick me, as though he was speaking to me?

I never liked January Jones. But she IS Betty Draper. I believe her. I am obviously not a married woman, not a pent up 60s housewife, but I identify with her character so strongly that it scares me. And I feel like I know Don Draper.

In Season 2, Betty chases after Don up the stairs, angry that he won't take part in disciplining the children, for throwing the toy against the wall, completely shattering it. I can't even remember what happened... and honestly, I don't want to. But she pushes him and then he pushes her back, and she stares at him, in shock, before walking away.

I wasn't expecting that scene, but in a split second I felt tears come to my eyes, felt my stomach drop.

Don Draper is a charismatic character, and he's good-looking. But I don't like him. He scares me. I hate the way he treats Betty. I hate how closed-up he is. Why is Betty so anxious? Because he's hot and cold, and there is no pattern to his madness. Her life is dry.

Maybe there are a thousand parallels to her life and my own, I don't know.
I do know why this show, these characters, make such an impression on me. Why I hate Jon Hamm's character and even January Jones's but I still can't stop watching.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Sasha Grey part deux: Koreans, filth, and restraint(s)

The difference between myself and people like Sasha Grey is that I am not a go-getter, and I choose to believe that a quiet life is what is right for me. Blame it on the anxiety, on the upbringing, the cultural expectations, whatever. 

The reason you don't see real Korean people in mainstream American porn is not because they aren't just as fucked as the rest of the world, but because Koreans have a deeply rooted sense of fear and a massive inferiority complex, regardless of whether they were born in the US or not. Any porn sites that advertise "Korean" girls are more than likely to have just picked up a random Asian country and labeled the girl with slanted eyes as being such, just because it sounds exotic.

This is not to say that Chinese or Japanese people don't have the similar Confucian beliefs and cultural hang-ups as the Koreans do... but it's just different.

I don't want to be a porno girl. I used to, because I thought that I could handle it, but I know that's wholly untrue. I simply don't have the personality for it. Sasha Grey might have been slightly introverted as a kid, but she has an inner drive and fearlessness that I don't.

In my wildest fantasies, though, I can be like her. If I had that go-getter mentality, I would break into the porn industry and make a huge name for myself. And honestly, being Korean would be a major push for me. It would be the most shameful thing... this college-educated, middle-class, pale-skinned, young Korean girl getting smashed and violated like a stankass ho. That actually turns me on. The fact that Koreans would be so shocked and disgusted by it, but at the same time, be my biggest audience. Those filthy sons of bitches.

Who wouldn't want to see this tapped to bits? I would.

But I can't. Because I'm not tough enough. And also, my parents would just die. Korean girls have an undercurrent of fear and shame running through them.That's why the "worst" they can do is date a black guy... but that's not really just a Korean thing, I guess.

This wasn't all about me spewing vitriol about the Korean plight. There was a point here.

Even taking that mentality out of porn and into the "real" world, why can't I be just as ambitious and strong-willed in another field? I might not be fearless, but I certainly have a lot of pent up energy. Or at least, I used to. I should be able to channel that elsewhere... but I'm stuck.

I think that a quiet life is the way I'm supposed to go, but I'm not a quiet person, not on the inside. Words to describe who I am really? Restrained. Coiled. Stifled. By my own self, not by culture, or parents, or other forces.

And why? I really don't know. I don't know how to plunge. I don't know how to prove people wrong, when I've been acting "right" the whole time.

Sasha Grey

"The term fuck defines an abrasive way of having sex; it pulverizes the idea of making love. I don’t want to make love––I want to fuck. I fiend for intense sex that I can share with one, one hundred, one thousand, or even a million people. I hunger to explore my own sexuality, finding sicker ways to get off psychologically and physically."

"Watch a lot of porn and read a lot of interviews. Understand that it’s a business, and that if she isn’t tough and if she doesn’t have her shit together she shouldn’t even think about doing porn. It will chew you up and spit you out if you don’t know what the real deal is. Other people making money off of your pussy and asshole. Also, you’re not a rock star, so don’t think you can live like one. You’re a piece of meat. If you can handle that and want to enter in this experiment called porno, then welcome to the thunderdome."

"I’m a performance artist and an explorer, so for me there is nothing else but to be intense. Intensity is my alarm call to the nightmare and slow monotony others call 'real' life."

"It was also a way for me to encourage other people not to be ashamed of their sexuality. Growing up I was at conflict with who I was sexually. I always thought there must be something seriously fucked up with me. I would have a dream or fantasy and if I told my girlfriends about it, they would tell me 'That’s fucking weird. You’re weird.' I felt so guilty. When I finally started having sex and read more literature about human sexuality, I realized 'What were these hang-ups? Why did I have these?' For me, doing it and being outspoken about it was a way to tell people 'You don’t need to feel guilty.' I wish I had someone to tell me that when I was a teenager. We’re all different, we all have different tastes. You don’t have to fit this mold of what society teaches us we have to be."

"I wanna be a wrecker of civilization. [Laughs.] No, really I just want to work my ass off and stay humble and continue to prove people wrong."

-Sasha Grey


I need to put my life on pause for a second and take a moment to figure some shit out.

Maybe this is just first world problems. I don't know. God knows all I have now is time... Time to oversleep, eat, blog, eat again, maybe work out (probably not), watch TV, go on Tumblr, eat, think about working out, watch TV, take a nap, eat, watch TV, go on Tumblr, and then sleep. That can't be right.

I have been losing sleep at night over all this spanking business as well. What was once an awesome fantasy in my mind has become real over the past couple months, but it doesn't live up to the hype my mind created for 20-some years. I had been fantasizing in 2 minute trailer length versions of what real spankings are like. You get spanked, there is the element of submission and domination, and you feel the sting on your ass for a few days after... but then what? Is it all just an elaborate act?

My tastes have expanded... I was never interested in the DD lifestyle, but now that's my ultimate goal because it's the closest, most intimate, most beautiful thing I can think of, as far as marriage or relationships go. But what the fuck do I really know about relationships?

I really don't know anything, and it's been confirmed by all this foolishness with J and C. In the most vulgar sense, I am completely cock-hungry. To put it in a nicer way, I crave intimacy and touch. Sex and spanking is on my mind all day. But what else do I want in a relationship?

The closest thing I can even compare it to is the relationship I have with my best friend. During summers we could spend all week with each other, doing absolutely nothing. Just talking and laughing all day until our jaws literally started hurting and we had to take a break. What do we even do? We just talk shit and joke and drink coffee and even takes naps in the middle, just so we can wake up and go eat and talk some more. And then we get pissed off for one reason or another and we fight and then later, get back together because we're bored, or we get over it. Is that considered homoerotic? We change in front of each other. I've seen her naked. We sleep in the same bed during sleepovers. Or is that just normal girl friendship behavior?

I figure that's what a girlfriend/boyfriend relationship is like, except with more sex and nudity. But I don't know how to be romantic and girlfriend-y. I can be someone's bottom bitch, but I don't know how to be very loveable. To hell with "just be yourself"... there are still some unspoken rules you have to follow to keep up with a relationship.

Beyond sex and spanking, I don't know what exactly I have to offer to a boyfriend. Yes, support, loyalty, maybe even humor... and what can they give me? Never enough. Because I'm very selfish and crave an immense amount of attention. I'm beginning to realize more and more that that's how I've been raised.

Monday, June 18, 2012


My anxiety levels are through the roof these past couple of days. I don't know why. Maybe because of J. But mostly because I get this way every couple of weeks and need lots of down time... even though that just makes me more crazy.

I wish I could bend over the arm of a sofa and be caned for a very long time. And then be comforted. Fall asleep. And be better.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Daddy issues

Even if I live the rest of my life alone and single, I'd rather do that than ever have a marriage like that of my parents.

I know my story is nothing special. It's not horrific or disgusting or even close to a "bad childhood." It's not. It's not bad at all. But today, I just could not stand my life, and my family, and what it's become.

We are sitting at the restaurant, and my mom, who has recently started getting hot flashes says that it's really hot in here. My dad gives her the dirtiest look, as if she said something foul, and spits out, "What the hell is wrong with you? It's not hot."

My dad treats my mother like a slave, a maid, a dog. He has never hit her... and that is always the excuse that I have used for my family. "Hey, well at least no one was physically abusive." But that doesn't mean that all is well. 

I don't know or understand why my parents are married. I have never known if they loved each other. I figure they must have at some point, since they had me and my brother. But they don't love each other now. They don't divorce because it's just much more convenient to stay married. They don't hate each other, they don't love each other. It's just a partnership, a loyalty. They support each other when bad shit happens. But it's not love. 

I have long believed that once you become an adult, it is pathetic to blame your parents for anything. Because they shouldn't have that much impact in your life as an adult, and if they do, you should do something about it. But I can't deny that they still affect me, especially my dad.

The last time they had a fight was a month ago. We were watching TV, some drama showing some perfect little family, and my mom was just being playful, saying things like, you should never marry someone like your dad! You should marry someone fun and handsome, like that guy! And my dad completely exploded at her. I can't recall what he said, but he was pissed off that she was saying those things. I hid in the bathroom. My mom was saying how embarrassed she was, how she was only joking, and how could he talk to her like that in front of me? In my mind, I was thinking, please shut up, please shut your mouth, stop provoking him more, please shut the fuck up before he gets even worse, please shut the fuck up. 

That has been my whole approach to anger and men. Don't say anything. Do not provoke them. Keep your mouth fucking shut. Don't joke with them. Don't flirt with them. Don't annoy them. 

How wrong are those thoughts? Those immediate, those automatic thoughts that say, "Mom, please shut up before Dad does something worse." That's how it has always been.

When I was a young child, I remember saying, "Since you know how Dad is, you should just stop when he starts getting mad. Just stay quiet." And she said, "Why does it always have to be me? Why should I always have to swallow everything?" And I didn't understand her. I remember thinking, it's better to swallow it than to make him more mad. 

But now that I am older, my whole throat closes up in frustration and rage... my mother has had to deal with this for 20-plus years. Never allowed to express how she really feels, for fear he might just kill us all. 

And to my dad? I'm thinking, are you fucking serious? You treat my mother like this, and then get angry about her saying I should marry someone nice? Are you fucking blind?

Yes, my dad works hard. He does not cheat on my mom. He has always supported me and my brother. 
But he comes home and he does not lift a finger to do a single thing. My mom cooks dinner and serves him right at his feet. Makes coffee and serves him. Does the dishes. Cleans. Takes out the trash. Laundry. 

The worst fights have been about how he doesn't understand why the house isn't clean when she doesn't do anything else in her life. How he's sick of living in this dirty house. 
Actually, I can't even remember what exactly the fights are about. They begin with something completely insignificant. She says the "wrong" thing. She gives him the wrong look. Complains about something. Tries to joke with him. Something insignificant. And then he'll lose his shit and trash the whole house. 

In my wildest dreams, I stand up to him. But in reality, I do nothing. My whole body freezes. I hide in the bathroom or my bedroom, curl up, and disassociate. I'm in my mind and there is nothing else. I close my eyes and I am gone. If someone were to talk to me right at that moment, my eyes would contain nothing. I'd be a ghost.

I don't hate my dad. I hate how he treats my mother. I harbor a lot of resentment towards him.

I see a lot of his characteristics in myself. I am also an introverted person, and I lose my temper a lot at stupid things because I tend to bottle things up. But I would never treat my husband or anyone else like that. 

I would rather live alone than to marry someone like my dad. 

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Girls Who Should Have Done More Spanking Scenes


Stoya, you are so beautiful. I just want to touch you and then die.

Sasha Grey

That ass.

Tanner Mayes

Kind of too skinny, but she definitely has some temper issues.

Spanko Girls

Rosaleen Young
My goodness, just look at her... she is so perfect. Why did she go away?

Kailee Robinson

She's got the best pouty face... and the girl can take one heck of a spanking!

Lisa from Girls Boarding School

I don't know too much about her, but every time I see her crying in a spanking, it looks so real... 

Making Him Mad

I actually pissed J off yesterday. It was my goal all along supposedly, but after doing it, I felt terrible. And I don't ever want to do it again.

We talked it out, and there were some misunderstandings from both parties... I just never knew that I could ever make someone mad because of my flirtatiousness. I didn't even know it was possible that I could do that.

I don't know what I learned from all this besides the fact that I really want to be good, and I care about him and what he thinks of me, even though I shouldn't.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

The Aftermath

After the spanking was over, T was nice, normal again. We listened to rap in the car for a while, and he was rubbing my back.

That was when I got a really empty lull in my brain. 

I hate when people touch me, but after this particular spanking, all I wanted to do was lay down with someone and fall asleep in their arms. That is very abnormal for me. I didn't want it to be T. I wanted it to be J. Or even C. 

Spanking is such an intense experience. But I don't feel close to T like that at all, and it was nice that he was trying to relax me, but I didn't want it to be his hands. 

When I got home, I was in such a strange state of relaxation, I could barely keep my eyes open long enough to brush my teeth.

I texted J, saying, "I want to be over your lap being spanked, and I wish you were closer." He doesn't know that I went to see T. 
"I'd like that also," he said. But it didn't feel like enough.

I felt something like sadness, or maybe it was longing. 
I still love spanking, but I can't go to T anymore. Even though the offense was real, the spanking felt meaningless. I tried to believe that the "judicial punishment" setting was a good thing. But more and more towards the end, and especially when I got home, it just reminded me that in the end, I was just going to go home and fall asleep alone, and there is no comfort or caring or playfulness or warmth after that. It isn't about sex or fooling around... it's that element of closeness that is missing. And that is a major thing.

My Poor Swollen Bottom

So last night, T and I meet up and I am so nervous, I barely know what to do with myself. It's not the same nerves as last time, when I didn't know what to expect... if he was a nice guy, a creep, an asshole. But I KNOW he's nice... the nerves came from the fact that it was supposed to be a punishment spanking.

At first, he had me sit down next to him while he talked to me. I kept playing with my hair, brushing it, stroking it, just messing with it.
"Stop playing with your hair," he said. "Put your hands on your knees."
"I'm sorry. I'm just really nervous."
"I know you are. And you should be."
But my hands keep moving to my hair. It's a tic, and I laugh.
"Do you think this is funny?"
"No, it's not. No."
"No, what?"

That becomes a battle all night... the fact that I don't want to say Sir, and the fact that I genuinely forget to say it. 

The punishment is about my snapping at my mother, losing my temper, being in bad moods and taking it out on people.
T starts with a warm-up over the same black yoga pants I wore last time. It's not too bad, but he reminds me that we haven't even begun anything yet.

When he starts with the bamboo brush, he pulls down my pants and gets me on the sit spot and upper thighs repeatedly. I am squirming so badly that he has to pin me down with his leg, and it hasn't even been a few minutes. The sting is incredible, I guess because it's such a small compacted area. But that is absolutely nothing compared to the bathbrush on the bare.

I never cried during this spanking, but it was almost too much for me to take. My panic, the pain, the immobility... it was just so many sensations at once, but T was unrelenting. At some point I let go of all my pride and BEGGED for him to slow down (which he did not), even saying Sir, and all he did was tell me to put both of my hands behind my back. Then he held onto both wrists and I could not move, and he got in about 50 strokes of the bath brush before I actually stood straight up and begged him to stop.
"This is a punishment, do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"It's not supposed to feel good. We're not testing your limits and your likes and dislikes, okay?"
"Yes, Sir."
"It's going to hurt a lot, and that's the point."

And for the last half of the punishment, I was to count 25 strokes, and loudly.
"One, sir. I will not snap at people again."
That, I think, was the worst part. Just the fact that I had the power to dictate the next swing, but still had to say that... I can't even describe the emotions that went along with it. And T was good... he wouldn't smack right after I said the line. He would sometimes linger for a few seconds, and I would have no idea when the swat would land. But sometimes he would smack immediately. It was terrifying. And all 25 strokes were hard, at maximum swing. (He says they weren't, but I don't believe him.) 
In the middle, I messed up my line a few times... I couldn't even breathe or speak straight. I was whimpering, and I forgot to say Sir, and I forgot the numbers. T said that he would repeat anytime I spoke too quietly or incorrectly. I believe it happened twice. And the second time, I yelled at him, completely losing my temper, and kicked him: "THAT IS SO NOT FAIR. THAT COUNTS!" Which I paid for at the end of the 25 strokes, with another 25 all in a row.

In the end, he had me sit on his leg and say that I would never act that way again, or it would be even worse. I can't even fathom how much worse it could be without my actual death occurring in the process. 

My bottom is totally swollen... with a huge bruise on my right sit spot. It's just the kind of sting I "wanted"... I'm wearing a short dress and my skin sticks to the leather seat I have at work, and I have to constantly readjust because it just hurts too much. But peeling my skin off the leather is a sting in itself. There is no escape from this pain. 

I'm trying to think. We met at 8:45 and left around 9:45. Which means I had been spanked straight for about an hour. Maybe about 10 minutes of rest. Goddamn. 

Monday, June 11, 2012

Unwanted Spanking

I've agreed to meet T tonight again for a punishment spanking. I did not want to. Not because I don't like or trust him, but just because I don't feel that sort of connection to him... especially after I've been talking to these other boys.

But I kind of like the fact that I'm not excited. Because there's a different sense of dread there... it's not like a "Oh my God, I'm going to be spanked! I'm so excited!" feeling. It's more like, "I really don't want to be punished tonight." Which seems more "real," especially since there is absolutely no sexual aspect to this dread at all.

I imagine it sort of like those spanking videos where the girls get spanked instead of going to jail. I'm getting this spanking whether I truly "want" it or not... and in this case, I really don't. But I'm going to get it because I agreed to meet him.

Maybe this time, I'll feel more repentant.

(But my God, I'm really scared of that bath brush, I really am.)

Sunday, June 10, 2012


I'm so fucking restless. I have trouble eating because.... butterflies? Nerves? I don't know.

I love talking to J, and all I want to do is get a rise out of him, play with him, flirt with him, make him mad, make him laugh, make him get serious and toppy... I want to play hard to get, but I can't. Last night, I made a mistake. He was out with his friends and told me a drunk girl was trying to hit on him.
"Why don't you take her home," I said, jokingly. "Do you want to spank her?"
"Do you want me to? Is that what you want?"
"No, it's not. But I'm not going to be a cockblock."
"Fair enough."
And later in the night, I ask him if she's still around.
"Go tap that ass," I say.
"Again, why are you telling me these things, if that's not what you want? It gives me the wrong signals."
"What signals," I ask.
"That you aren't interested."
Immediately, I feel sorry and anxious.
"I am, J. I really am, but I don't have control over what you do. And I don't have the right to say, don't talk to her, don't touch her."
"That's true, but if that's not what you really want, I don't want you to say it."
I apologize and for the rest of the night, I am anxious with him.
Even later in the night, I call him an asshole for something he says, as a joke, and he tells me to take it back. I refuse. He threatens me with various things, but I flat-out refuse to say sorry.
"Okay, well I'm done threatening you."
And that's it.
I freak out, I ask him if he's mad, are you sure, are you really mad at me, are you sure, I'm sorry, I really am.
And he's not even mad at me. It's just me, with all my anxiety and craziness...
"I thought you wanted to make me mad?" he asks.
And that's true... I've told him this before, that I want to make him actually angry. He's too easy-going, and I will break him of that.
"Yes, I do, but I don't know. Not like this."
He assures me he is fine.
We talk online and I try to be normal, but I'm actually about to cry because I feel like I'm too crazy for him, like I don't deserve to be talking to him.
I keep apologizing and tell him I want to be more submissive, I want to be good, but I'm sorry, I'm so anxious, and I don't know what to do, and I'm so sorry for being so bad tonight.
"Alright, listen to me," he says.
"I am going to tell you to do something, and you are going to do what I say."
I am almost in tears because I am expecting him to make me spank myself or do a version of cornertime that involves kneeling on the bed, that drives me absolutely crazy.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Don't ask. Just trust me. Are you going to listen to me?"
"You are going to relax," he says. And I take a deep breath.
"Why are you so nice?" I ask him.
"You weren't bad tonight, and I'm not mad at you. And this is okay, also. You being anxious tonight is okay."
He's read my mind. I was in the middle of typing that I was sorry about that.

I try not to expect too much from him... after all, you know never know what will happen. But I like him so much, and he knows the exact right thing to say, even better than I know myself. I chide him for being too nice of a top, but in times like these, I am so thankful that he is a genuinely nice person. I don't know what to do with myself, I'm just not used to that.

Thursday, June 7, 2012


I'm really so not used to having so much male attention... every time I log into Gchat, there are 3 or 4 windows that pop up, saying "Hi!" And I honestly don't know how to handle that.

Out of all the men that I have spoken to, there are 2 that I feel the most connection with, but in 2 very different ways.

First, J: He is everything that I've ever wanted in a top, in a boyfriend, in general. Educated, easy-going, playful, sarcastic, funny, patient, successful, stable. He gives me butterflies with his occasional toppy behavior and words, but is also lenient when he can see that I'm anxious. He makes me feel like "the crazy one" because he is so normal and calm, but that's okay because I feel like I can relax with him. And in terms of being a top, he is firm, but never over-the-top... never excessively dominating or scary. He is as vanilla as can be on surface level, until he says something like, "Well, you have to do what I say because I'm the top here, not you." Then it's butterflies all over. He's just a nice guy... a very nice guy.

Then, C: He's a year younger than J, but much more serious... "brooding" if you will. We don't play around much. He claims he is an easy-going guy in real life, but when I talk to him, I straighten myself up a little. I don't flirt and joke with him like I do with J. With J, I can get away with A LOT more, I cuss at him, and try to boss him around, see how he reacts. With C, I try to be better, more feminine, more submissive. He told me about his unstable family life, which, of course, made the rescuer in me melt, wanting to please him and save him. And he told me about how he made a girl cry one time while she was in cornertime because she talked back to him and he paid her back... and it totally thrilled me. He isn't unkind, but more of a no-nonsense, deadpan kind of guy.

And at the same time, I almost feel as though I'm living in a fantasy world with both guys. As much as I talk to them (and I do talk to them a lot), it's like I'm responding to thin air, to a mirage. Like, how likely is it that I'll meet either of them, or have a lasting relationship with them?

C and J represent the dual nature of my desires, what I have known and recognized in myself since I was a very young girl.

On one hand, I know what is good for me. I know that I myself am not the most carefree, relaxed person... I'm anxious, sometimes cold, sometimes withdrawn. So I need that funny guy... the guy who can make me laugh and bring out the sunny side. That's J.

But on the other, I have always been attracted to the darker guys... the ones that I have to work for. I'm sure every girl goes through their bad boy phase, that's nothing new. It makes me desperate to please, makes me more submissive, and the anxiety and fear and tension that their personalities evoke is yes, scary, but also arousing. And that's C.

With J, I know I can flirt my way out of big trouble... at least soften him up a little. C will have me regretting every wrong word I have ever said.