He chose the tiger...

Yes, Virginia, Ms. Betty survived Christmas! However, I still have a week of extra hours to go before we officially wind down the holiday season at work.

So, a bit reluctantly, I decided pc and I needed to wrap up this month's chastity game a bit early.

But I didn't want to just yank the plug. It's been some long, hard, playless weeks for the both of us and I thought it was time for something fun.

It started with a game, a little bet based on an old story called "The Lady or the Tiger". In the story a man accused of a crime is put in an arena in the center of the city. At the end of the arena stand two doors. Behind one is a beautiful woman. Behind the other is a tiger. His trial is choosing between the doors, proving his guilt or innocence by whether he is wed or eaten.

Inspired by the story, I chose three pictures and had pc choose between them (without seeing them, of course):

(A)


(B)


(C)

If he chose A, he'd get a spanking but then be free of chastity for the rest of December.

If he chose B, he'd get a spanking and stay chaste for the rest of the month.

If he chose C, he'd be free of chastity with no spanking.

He chose B, so I packed up and headed down to his office, bag of wicked silent implements in hand and an added evil surprise boiling in the back of my brain.

You see we had another little bet between us and I thought it was time we settled it.

He stood in front of me, face full of dread, while I undid his buckle and lowered his pants. Then I made him stand facing me as I slowly unbuttoned my blouse. You see, he claimed that when about to be spanked he'd be far too nervous to even notice my state of undress, let alone be able to enjoy it. Unfortunately, the Pinocchio nose sticking out between his legs proved this a lie.

He bent over the chair in the center of the room. I crossed behind him, rattail in hand, and began whipping him slowly, striping his bottom from waist to thighs. The erection slowly melted away, shrinking a bit with each burning lash as he whimpered and wiggled.

Finally soft enough, he was at last in a proper state to continue. I sat down on the chair and put him across my knee. I spent several long moments painting the pale skin between his stripes bright red with my paintbrush whip. The whip stings a bit, but it's not particularly harsh.

Next came 20 quick licks with the heart of fire, just enough to let him know this was a "real" spanking even if I did deliver it topless. They came quick, in a random pattern that kept him guessing about where the next would land.

pc stood slowly, looking down ruefully at the implement while I rubbed a coat of lotion onto his bottom. He told me once again just how much he hated "that thing". But, I had something waiting he was going to hate even more.

I owed him a paddle swat from a mistake he'd made during the game. He asked to take it today, and after discussing it we concluded that one loud out of context sound wouldn't be too much of a tip off to others in the building so I agreed.

Unfortunately, my large school paddles didn't fit in the bag, so I had to bring the small pocket paddle I bought while little bunny was here visiting. This meant a swat on each cheek in quick succession rather than one across both at once, but it was the best we could do.

pc bent over and held his breath. I delivered the swats rapid fire, both done and paddle out of sight again before the pain of the first one really hit. He gasped and dropped down to the table top, panting and staring wide eyed from the shock of them.

But it was over. He had survived and now he just has this last dry week to make it through.

Count Your Blessings

So I'm actually home and relaxing. I work tomorrow, but for now I'm curled up enjoying the snow and some good music while we wait for the traditional Dr. Who special.

We don't really do Christmas, so I'm using the time to catch up on some things: a bit of laundry, helping with the dishes, oh and a bit of online shopping.

I've been meaning to get to that for some time now, and seeing as for me the week after Christmas is like to be as busy as the week before, I finally buckled down and got to it. I picked out some new bras and a leather fly swatter, then turned my attention to art supplies, selecting some palette knives and a nice large fan brush along with the usual staples.

But although we've now turned back into the light half of the year, we still have several weeks of short, cold days ahead where the weather may not be conducive to painting. In addition, the cold makes my hands stiff, so I like textile crafts or other things that keep my fingers moving to improve their flexibility during the winter.

So I browsed a bit, looking for other things I might channel my creative energy into while we wait for spring. Nothing much caught my eye though...until I saw the basket weaving section, that is.

Unfortunately, the reed and cane available from the art store is all very thin and fine. So you can all relax, Ms. Betty won't be going into the cane making business any time soon.

Although, I've always wanted to try my hand a mini versions of carpet beaters. The thin cane would work for that.

And pomlazkas. I've wanted one of those since I saw one used in a rather non traditional way in a rather hot video a few years ago. Although not the traditional willow, I'm thinking the reed would make for a rather nice braided rod.

I have to say though, as much respect as I have for the ancient traditions of other cultures, Easter whippings never have made much sense to me. Such rituals usually have a practical or perceived practical reason underlying their practice. But for heaven's sake what possible practical need is served by whipping some poor girl through the streets? Yes, from a kinky perspective it's delightfully fun and may "increase fertility" simply by turning on the participants, but on a spiritual level the symbolism is just a bit out of key from the usual deep tune of such practices.

From an anthropological perspective, one would expect something like the belief that the whippings purged the body. As spring is a time for new beginnings, it would make sense for it to be a time of cleansing and purification; making one new again to receive fresh seed (or perhaps to clean oneself in preparation for receiving the gifts of Christ's sacrifice.) But when cultures do practice such beliefs all are usually whipped, not just the women. Unless we want to go down the misogynistic path of claiming only the women need to be purified because they caused the sin that lead to the need for said sacrifice. (We don't. I'll bite.)

No, what we need is an alternative. Perhaps a rabbit. In many places in the world rabbits coming out of their burrows is one of the earliest signs of spring. In fact the association was so strong some believed it was actually the rabbits who brought the spring.

Now that would be a spring ritual: the bunny whipped through the countryside from Norway to Sicily, the rods used to spur him to run ever faster, spreading the fresh green spring behind him as he scampered across the land.

Hm. If I ordered that reed now I could have it in about a week. I'd have time to experiment a bit and then would probably have a finished product right around mid March. Right in time for the equinox. And somebody's annual visit.

Here, bunny, bunny, bunny!

Happy Holidays

I have a one day weekend this week, thanks to Christmas coming in a few days. (Side note: Never tell someone in the retail business you hope things quiet down soon anytime between November 15th and January 1st. Checking in to see if it's "settled down any" is also unwise. If you want to wish us well, tell us you hope we have a nice quiet day after new year's. If you want to be really helpful find us a nice dark closet and go deal with the woman trying to convince the manager the $30 collectible teddy bear we just caught her stealing was only priced at $2.99 while we take 5 minutes to hyperventilate.)

Anyway, it's going to be a bit of a hectic week ahead, so let me share my good wishes now. Whatever holiday you are celebrating this winter, may it be joyful and warm.

If you don't hear from me before New Year's day don't be surprised. If you don't hear from me for another week or two after don't send a rescue party. Just send chocolate.

Happy Holidays.

Ms. Betty

About Switching

Well, I had an idea my honest blogging meme might stir up some interest. I don't know why I was surprised that what caught the most interest was the mention of my switching days. I shouldn't have been but I was.

So, as Hermione (and many others) requested I'll share a bit about it.

First, let me set the scene. Pictures do sometimes say it better than words can and I think our friend Homer here sums it up pretty well:




So how did I get myself into this mess? The internet, of course. I had been spanking on my own for years, but like many others when I found the internet I was delighted to find whole groups of people out there who shared the interest. I threw myself into the online communities with abandon, trading stories and ideas and soaking up all the things I never knew.

One idea I came across over and over again was that every Top ought to bottom a few times just to know what it's like. Supposedly it made you a better more empathic spanker, more able to get into the head of your spankee. I had my doubts. Well more like screaming objections, but I could see some logic to it.

Then Gerald Gardner bit me. Like many Pagans my first introduction to formal ritual came through Gardinian Wicca. As I contemplated the idea of trying the other end of things a line from one of the initiation rituals came back to me...even the High Priestess must suffer the lash. (Or something like that, Gardinian turned out to not be a good fit so I only read it the once.) Anyway with Gardner whispering in one ear and several smooth, charming men claiming that "of course" they'd taken their turn whispering in the other I finally gave in and made a few dates to try bottoming.

I'm afraid I can't share too many details. I'm not trying to hold out on anyone, it's just that I found the whole thing so unmoving and unremarkable that I don't really remember any of them.

Some things stand out: the guy who sent me snuff films, the jerk who after 2 im conversations decided I was to call him "Master" and ask his permission before making love to my husband, (yeah, right!) and the sweet, shy, European gentleman who took one look at me and just couldn't bring himself to lay a hand on me.

But most of the time I just found myself annoyed, frustrated and bored. I didn't understand it. I opened myself up as much as I could, tried several kinds of spanking, different implements and different partners (most of whom were decent and sincere), but aside from a little physical discomfort I never felt a thing. None of them seemed to truly understand me. Not one got into my head or touched me in any meaningful way. No matter what we tried we could not create the glowing bliss I'd so often read of or saw in those I put over my own knee.

There was one fairly nice session. I played a school girl complete with little denim jumper, white blouse, pigtails and black shoes with bows. The hand spanking didn't do much for me, but he was good company and I enjoyed playing the part. After the spanking he tucked me in for a nap. When I woke up he served me milk and chocolate chip cookies.

It was all very lovely...except for the bruises.

Pushed by my lack of response, I think he spanked harder than he meant to. Sitting in his kitchen I could feel the soreness was different from usual. I asked if he had a mirror so I could take a look at my bottom. He didn't have one, but he looked for me and said I seemed fine.

Less than a quarter hour later I was back home and changing when my husband walked into the bedroom and hit the roof. He let out a string of expletives, grabbed my arm and pulled me into the bathroom. There in the mirror I could see the large deep black and blue marks spreading across my pale cheeks.

I was thoroughly annoyed, with both the bruises and the deceit. (Really, I was home 10 minutes after he checked my bottom. I was deeply skeptical I went from "no sign" to full blooming bruises in that short a time. I know my body, my bruises don't get that bad that fast) but my husband was apoplectic. He was having a hard enough time letting someone hit me. Leaving marks was a capitol offense.

Eventually he calmed down but we didn't talk much the rest of the evening. The next day we had a long conversation about it. He told me he was starting to become concerned for my safety. Then he did something he'd promised he wouldn't do. He asked me to stop. He did tell me or demand or make ultimatums. He didn't even ask me to give up the spanking life all together. He just asked me not to bottom anymore.

It's hard to explain just what a huge thing that was. From the beginning we've had a very clear understanding about each others' "hobbies". It's not quite don't ask, don't tell (we often share details and sometimes partners) but it is an agreement not to interfere in each others choices. Yet here he was asking me to change a choice I'd made. And I agreed. It was becoming clear that bottoming wasn't a good fit and I was sick of wasting time and effort spinning my wheels.

So I put a end to my bottoming days and went back to the other side of the hairbrush where I belonged.

Ms. Betty

Honest Blogging-- My First Meme

I am going out of my skull with boredom over here.

It's snowing just enough to make going out seem ill advised, it's too cold and damp to paint, and I've finished my book.

And seeing as it was a long and somewhat difficult week at the store, I'm a bit too drained to contemplate evil...despite the new bag full of yummy, silky cords here on my desk.

So to pass the time I thought I'd try one of Hermione's memes. Here are the results for Ms. Betty's take on honest blogging:

I cannot drink alcohol. Even the smell of it makes me ill.

I was still 2 months shy of 16 when I gave my first spanking.

I have never regretted giving my heart to anyone...No matter how things turned out.

I have been known to throw things at the television during a hockey game.

I am not blind, but I do have a visual impairment that keeps me from driving.

I am only 1/8 Irish, but it is said that eighth is from the neck up because I have the hair, the freckles...and the temper!

I recently became a fan of someone who got their start on American Idol, and I find the fact slightly embarrassing.

I did try switching several years ago. Talk about your epic FAILs!

I chose my current job because I want to support the cause we raise money for.

In the past few months an entire relationship came and went in my life and I was too busy to blog about it.

There, I think that's ten. Hope they were interesting.

Ms. Betty

From the Desk of Sarah Teasdale

The temperature here right now is hovering at 20 degrees. Our high for today was around 3o. The low for tonight may be as low as 5 degrees by some reports. Tomorrow the temperature is not supposed to get out of the teens all day.

Listen to the radio at work this afternoon, I heard the rather vapid little afternoon deejay lament the bitter cold. My temper spiked a bit. Now to be honest, I usually find the radio station piped through the store a bit irritating but her whining today actually had me grinding my teeth. I could not help thinking that much like me and many others when she finished her day she would be going home to a warm house and a hot meal. When the temperature drops to the single digits tonight she will be in her warm comfortable bed with her furnace roaring.

Unfortunately, not everyone will be so lucky. Thinking of those who will suffer through this night with no roof and no warm bed I could not help thinking that by comparison the little airhead on the radio had very little reason to complain.

I took a moment to be thankful I would be one of the lucky ones. As I did an old poem by Sarah Teasdale came to mind. As she said it much better than I could, I will let her express my thoughts for those suffering the cold with little or no shelter:

Ms. Betty

Heart of Fire

As requested by a commenter, I've dug up a picture of the heart of fire and it's two sister implements that I made from the same plastic jump rope.

I post this with the standard disclaimer about the lousy pictures I take:

Some of you who remember me from my 360 days may recall that when I started visiting pc at his office I had to tackle the challenge of finding quiet implements I could use there. The "ladies" as I call them were born of that need.

I'd bought the jump rope nearly a year before, thinking I'd find some fun thing to make from it but never getting around to it. Then about the time I was trying to come up with silent implements I saw a toy made from the same type of knot on an adult store website. Reluctant to buy such a thing sight unseen I decided to make my own instead, so I got out the jump rope and viola... The knot is a carrick knot, sometimes called a Josephine. As such I named the two implements Lady Josephine (the one in the middle) and her big sister, Lady Catherine (with the blue handle.)

After finishing them I had a short length of the jump rope left over. It wasn't quite long enough for another knot, but too long for a single loop. (Too much wrapping.) Since I thought the first two looked a bit like carpet beaters I took my inspiration there and modeled the third implement on the heart shaped carpet beaters I had sometimes seen. I did not name it, though, until the first time I applied it to pc's poor bottom and discovered the curious welts it left behind.

Ms. Betty

Kept After

pc made a little mistake recently. Not a horrible crime, but an error in judgment that, after a bit of reflection, even he agreed needed tending to.

Unfortunately, the course of these things never does run smooth. Bad weather, a nasty cold on my part and very jammed schedules on both ends made finding time to get him spanked near impossible. Then just when we had a date tentatively set came the unwelcome news that I would be working my usual day off.

Two years ago this would have been a disaster, an insurmountable obstacle that would lead to one of our famous implosions. But this isn't two years ago (thankfully) and though it took a bit of juggling we got it worked out fairly easily. pc agreed to stay late one evening and I agreed to meet him in his office after work.

I never have been able to resist teasing him though, especially when he's in a bit of trouble. This was no exception. Before long I was taunting him about being kept after like a misbehaving schoolboy. Then a wicked thought struck me. As long as he was staying after like a schoolboy he ought to get the proper schoolboy treatment.

You see, pc has always been fascinated by the idea of being kept in detention. We've talked about it for years with the understanding that should the right opportunity come along we'd make use of it. It wasn't any good to do it just to do it, though. It would have to be part of a very real punishment. As he's not in trouble very often these days the right opportunity took awhile to come along, but it looked like it had.

He was nervous, but a bit excited about the idea. He had to agree it was all too perfect. The premise was simple, he was to spend the half hour before our meeting sitting on his discipline chair with his pants down writing lines as he waited for me.

I ended up being a little early, but he kept working on the lines, frantically scribbling as he watched the clock, both hoping for the tedium to end and dreading what would come when it did. At last he finished the last repetition. He pushed the sheets of paper tentatively across the desk and began shaking out the cramps in his hands as I checked them.

When we'd set up the detention pc had made the unfortunate discovery that his office blinds did not provide any privacy after dark so we moved to the small hallway outside his inner office. He set the chair in the middle of the hall and I sat down. In a quiet whisper I repeated once again why he was about to end up with a very sore bottom. He whispered back remorseful apologies, pleading with his eyes for me to be merciful.

I put a dog toy in his mouth to muffle his cries and pulled his pants back down. He moaned a little as I pulled him in place over my lap. I asked if he was ready, watching the back of his head as he nodded.

The spanking started with a small black leather whip. Deadly silent like everything I use in his office, the tails flicked quickly across his skin, leaving bright red lines in their wake. He kicked his feet a bit, gasping and moaning through the rubber baseball glove in his mouth.

We didn't have much time, and while the whip made for a good warm up I had to move on to something with a little more sting. I picked up the heart of fire and began spanking again, a bit harder and faster than I had with the whip. The "heart" is made from two thick loops of spiraling plastic that overlap, leaving burning heart shaped welts where it lands. Of all my silent implements of discipline it may be the one pc hates the most. He bucked and writhed on my lap, yelping despite biting down on the toy. Tears came quickly, his back shaking with the sobs. I continued with the heart, covering his bottom with fiery hearts until his skin was solid red.

I put the heart down and began rubbing pc's hot, sore bottom. His sobbing continued for some time as I gently stroked and muttered comfort. At last his breathing returned to normal and he quietly got to his feet.

I continued to squeeze and stroke, rubbing away the sting as he reached to hug me...

Ms. Betty

Caught Cheating

And by my husband no less...

You see the painting I'm currently working on is a monochrome, meaning using just one color. Monochromes can be made with any hue, but this one, like most, is black and white.

Only like all art there is a bit of wiggle room in the definition.

So hubby was very surprised the other day to see me squeeze a drop or two of cadmium red into a batch of black I was mixing.

"Color?" he asked a bit disdainfully.

"Yes," I said with a cool look as I went back to stirring the paint.

"Well, but..."he paused a moment. "Are you really supposed to do that?" Mind you this is coming from a man who has never held a paintbrush in his life. I suddenly found myself slightly annoyed.

"As far as I know, nothing in the history of art forbids it."

His mouth worked back and forth in that way it does when he thinks I've suddenly been short with him for no reason.

"O-kay," he said, still sounding a bit skeptical. I held my breath, counted to three and opted to teach rather than yell.

"The color won't show, it just changes the shades of the greys slightly to give them a little more variation. Technically, it's still a monochrome."

"Oh, I didn't know you could do that."

No comment. I've found it sometimes takes another artist to understand the thoughts of an artist.

I was still annoyed, though. After all it's my painting and even if I was breaking some sacrosanct rule of art, it was mine to break. One of the key lessons of art is learning how not to let left brained ideas of what "should be" get in the way of what can be. If you do that you straight jacket yourself and many beautiful ideas never get borne.

Thinking about it a few days later, I've suddenly realized the same lesson can be applied to life in general and more specifically to kink.

Early on, pc had some definite ideas about how our interaction "should" be. I had a few of my own, but as I'd just found myself in whole new territory (going from spanking in my primary relationships to spanking someone outside a romantic context) I was a little more open to various possibilities. Many times when life's obstacles seemed overwhelming and insurmountable he found it just wasn't possible to live up to his ideas of what a submissive "should be". Usually when this was the case he'd decide if he could only do it half way (or sometimes not even half) he'd rather not do it at all and walked away.

Eventually things calmed down and he's always come around, but the times in between have be rougher than necessary on the both of us. (If anyone is wondering, yes, this is part of how he got his name.)

These days much as changed. Some of these changes were natural with the course of time: he's matured some and I've relaxed some. Other changes we deliberately made happen, such as a new location for both of us that made getting together easier. (Done for practical reasons on both ends but it did make our goings on more feasible.)

Mainly though, we learned to remember that nothing in this life is truly permanent and how to ride out those occasional storms until life calmed down again.

It's an important fact to remember.

Ms. Betty

The Artistic Curse...

It is a well known fact that art projects tend to take on a life of their own...

But why do they always have to do it five minutes before I have to walk out the door?

Ms. Betty

Distracted

So after all that talk the other day about much I'm enjoying working on my new painting I'm not doing that much actual work on it. I seem to have had my attention completely diverted.

By what?

By this:ropes r
maymay posted it on Male Submission Art the other day and ever since I saw it I can't seem to get it out of my mind.

Though not for the reasons you might think, despite the very nice bottom in the picture. ;) I keep staring at it wondering just how they tied those knots. It was the Top's first attempt at bondage, apparently so it's more a one off than a pattern to follow. I love it, though, especially those ropes running between the legs. For someone anally sensitive ropes rubbing up against their crack can be very stimulating. (they are also very handy for holding plugs and such in place.)

Over all it's a very unique tie. And I want to figure out how to duplicate it, or at least something like it (you are reading the blog of the Lady who repositioned the skyline of Paris because she didn't like the shape, after all) with my own flavor.

Hm...I'm going to need a guinea pig.

Ms. Betty

Slinging Paint

I've been neglecting this blog again. It seems that when we bloggers have interesting things happening we're usually too busy to write about them and when we do have time to write there is usually very little going on worth writing about.

These days most of my interesting goings on are taking place in the professional sphere. I could write about them but somehow it doesn't quite feel right. These men come to me for discretion. I don't think they'd appreciate ending up as blog fodder.

And then there's the big reason I haven't been writing. As the title of this post suggests, I've been busy painting. Risky as the weather is usually isn't very art friendly this time of year but we're having a nice string of clear skies and warm temperatures and I know better than not to work when inspiration strikes.

The canvas I'm working on is very large and this is the most technically challenging painting I've started to date. So far it's gone fairly well so I'm happy with it, but it's leaving me little time to write especially as writing and painting at the same time can be difficult.

Some of you may not know this, but images and spacial relations are processed in a very different part of the brain from language and going back and forth between them is a bit like running down a long hallway from one end of a house to the other. It takes awhile and doing it too much can get tiring very quickly.

I'm also discovering that sometimes it can be hard to shift from a painting headspace to a kinky headspace. Interesting, as I'm always thinking kinky but when the phone rang the other day it took me several long moments to switch gears enough to remember who I was talking to and what we were talking about. That is very odd for me.

I suppose it's because like painting, kinkiness is a creative activity, at least for me. When I'm channeling creative energy one place it's hard to redirect it someplace else.

So for now I'll stick with the paint. I'll try to let my loyal readers know I'm still alive once in awhile, though.

Ms. Betty

Loch Ness Monster Found Dead

LOCH NESS, SCOTLAND-- Residents of the small village here were shocked early this morning when the massive dinosaur-like body of the long thought to be mythical creature was discovered beached on the shore of the famed loch.

"Och, it's juoost tearabble," croaked Stan McDan of the Tavindish clan. "the perr beastie. We woulda been more kerfil, ya know, had we realized."

While the cause of death is still under investigation, preliminary reports indicate the famed monster may have choked on a golf ball hit into the loch.

"For such a large animal it had a very slender neck," said a veterinary tech on the investigative team, unidentified because they were not authorized to comment. "It's possible Nessie thought it was a mushroom and tried to swallow it."

In a traditional gesture of mourning, black arm bands are being worn by the locals. A memorial service is planned.

It is unknown if the Loch Ness Monster is survived by any relatives.

____________________________________________________________________

The above is, of course, a spoof. It is based on this article from CNN.

The moral of the story: think through your actions, you never know who you may harm by acting carelessly.

Ms. Betty

Who am I and what have I done with myself?

Ever feel that way?

Recently I've found some very uncharacteristic thoughts floating through my head, and I'm not sure what to do with them.

I'm not much domestically inclined, yet here I am considering taking little iced, rattle-shaped, gingerbread cookies to a baby shower next weekend. I don't even like baby showers. I really don't like the idea of wasting half a day off gossiping with coworkers I see all week and a boss I really don't like. But good god I'm going, and I'm taking cookies. Homemade cookies. Decorated homemade cookies.

Something is very wrong here.

Usually I spend my days off planning wicked and evil things. This week I spent them rummaging through the pantry trying to figure out what I might be able to bake with what's on hand.

I bought a dresser recently. A pretty little white one with flowers on it. From the Kathy Ireland Princess collection.

I'm thinking it might be fun to take up quilting again. Or oh my God! crocheting.

I'm toying with redecorating the bedroom. Or decorating the bedroom. You can't redecorate something you never properly decorated in the first place. (properly decorated, do you hear me?)

What's the matter with me? Am I going soft, or just losing my mind? I don't know. It feels nice, right in a way, but it's also very strange, and just a little scary.

Either it's the weather (we're supposed to have a very nasty winter) or someone's done me the favor of completely changing how I see the world.

I'm hoping it's the weather.

(just kidding)

Ms. Betty

Make New Friends...

But keep the old, one is silver and the other is gold.

I know many of you read this blog. The numbers tell me that, but numbers are very cold things. Somewhere in the Wrinkle In Time trilogy a character explains that he does not know how many stars are in the night sky, but he knows all of their names. Like he, I'd rather know the names.

So please, take a moment and introduce yourself if you haven't before. I'd very much like to meet you.

Ms. Betty

Under a Newborn Sky

Like many people, especial women, I feel a special bond with the moon. Though they do not match exactly, I find her endless cycles a perfect metaphor for my own changing moods.

The conventional wisdom is that a new venture is best started under a full moon. The logic here is that you are bestowing the work with all the properties of ripeness and fertility the full moon represents. True, the new creation may not yet be ripe or full but by birthing it under a full moon you insure it will be.

Recently I've come to question that. If something is born under a full moon, then it does it's growing under a waning moon, a time traditionally associated with withering and contraction. Is that really what you want a new adventure absorbing?

Under a new moon, now that's different. Then your new creation grows as the moon grows, filling it with the light of that growth.

And the first new moon of a new year? What magic does that give the birth of a new beginning?

It's going to be fun finding out.

Ms. Betty

Tis the Season...

No, not that season...yet. (Thank God! I have umpteen million boxes of second hand Christmas merchandise to sort through come the 1st of November.)

But pc has a birthday this month and birthdays are a very nice time for wrapping packages.

So I put him in chastity for the month.

Happy Birthday, love.

Life's Little Lessons

Sometimes a sound butt kicking says "I love you" as much as a hug does.

Isn't it strange how when someone is new and important to us that we tend to forget that?

Ms. Betty

Kinking Labor Day

So it's Labor Day here in the US, a day specifically designed to give hard working people everywhere an extra day to relax (though remembering the struggles of the Labor Movement is a good idea, too.) The boys are scattered to the winds, enjoying their days.

Monday is my regular day off so no three day weekend for me, but I was off early enough Saturday afternoon to enjoy two wonderful days with my visiting in laws and still have today for myself. I'm thinking about a haircut and a manicure, but my robe is still feeling way too comfy to make venturing out seem like a good idea just yet.

In the meantime I'm sitting back with my coffee and conjuring evil plots. My new boy will come home from his camping trip to find I've arranged for a mystery package to be delivered to him, which he will then bring to our next meeting.

Little bunny is working today, but he is also looking over his shoulder. I told him last night a spanking would be coming his way today. He doesn't know when, he doesn't know how hard or how long, but he knows it's coming. (eep!)

pc is off doing what he does to have fun (being that these things usually involve individual sports of the risky nature I tend not to ask.) But when he gets into the office tomorrow a note will be waiting to inform him his English teacher spotted him cutting class and that he'll be dealt with accordingly. Hope the barbecue was worth it. ;)

Happy Labor Day

Ms. Betty

You have my attention

I'm sulking my way through a cold on my day off and watching an old rerun of the Golden Girls. Enter a rather handsome, masculine baseball player Blanche is "coaching". As he's leaving Blanche pulls a black lace bra and garter belt out of her purse and tells him to wear them to batting practice. She explains that she wants him to get in touch with his sensuality.

I found the scene very interesting and particularly relevant as recently I've been helping a friend explore cross dressing. I had a lot of fun with it. I'm not big on jewelry or make up, but I love lingerie and I found shopping for it for someone else just as exciting as picking out my own. The play session was wonderfully sensual and playful. I even took him out "dressed" to a local bar.

It's all very new, and delightful so I'm not sure I'm ready to share many in depth insights yet, but it is definitely something I want to explore further.

And it was very nice to see such a thing handled in a calm and matter of fact matter, especially on a sit com from the 80s, well before mainstream US culture opened up to kink.

Unfortunately the episode ends predictably for a sitcom, but even with the laugh track I think the show and the actor deserve some kudos for writing, performing and airing the speech where the baseball player, in full dress and heels, declares Blanche has changed his life because since he discovered himself his batting average is through the roof and the truly likes himself.

Ms. Betty

You have got to get one of these!

Yes, I'm finally back. I've been busier than I ever thought possible lately. The usual work stuff, plus some big news I hope to be announcing in a few days. (Stay tuned!)

But the most exciting news is that a very good friend came to see me this week. Sweet, considerate dear that he is, he usually brings a present. This is all the more sweet considering what I'm likely to do to his bottom with said present.

This time I picked out the present. I happened to come across a story about a fetish party held in a local bar and sponsored by a local adult store. Considering the selection and quality of fetish items available at most adult stores I was half horrified and half skeptical. Still, being cursed with an open mind I had to just see if maybe I was missing something, so I checked out the site.

Nope, I was right. It was all the usual tacky, poorly made stuff. And then I saw this .

Now that looked fun. I know the company. I bought one of their rubber whips on a friend's recommendation a few years ago and I've been very happy with it. This little guy looked like something I could have fun with. I was also curious about it from an artistic perspective. Would it really handle like a paintbrush? Could I really use body paints to create an image on someone or was that tongue in cheek? I had to know.

I called the store. They had one left. Apparently it was a popular little item. The girl sounded very excited about it when I called. She promised to hold it for me and I waited patiently for my friend to arrive so we could pick it up.

Getting it in my hand was delightful. Don't get me wrong, it's about the same quality as what you find in most "adult novelty" stores, but still fairly sturdy, and I really liked it. I have very small hands, and it can be difficult to find tools that fit comfortably. The handle of this one felt like it was made for me. The perfect weight, the perfect curve, and yes it did move very much like a paintbrush. (insert mischievous giggle and wicked grin here.)

It's a fairly short whip, which makes using it like a flogger very difficult, but I found it works very well for otk...and yes it does paint a bottom quite red. It's a moderate toy that can get very intense very quickly. The ends of those falls are cut straight so you have a bunch of little hard edges biting the bottom. Very stinging. Sitting on a hornet's nest kind of stingy.

But it really is fun to use.

I haven't painted with it yet, but I am quite curious to see what it will do...

Ms. Betty

Quiet

Thrift Store Finds

So my husband and I finally purchased a decent camera a few weeks ago. Not that I'm any better of a picture taker, but at least the better quality camera helps some.

I would like to get better at taking pictures, however, and since I brought home a whole new handful of toys from the thrift store over the weekend, what better subject matter to practice on?

I think these first two are a pair of mini boat oars. I liked that they are tied together.


They aren't very heavy or very thick, but they produce a nice little sting and are easy to use for fast light spanking.

This next is a mini cheese board, for slicing and serving cheese. It's a bit more substantial, being thicker and made from a good dense hardwood. The round shape and small size make it the perfect tool for paddling the sit spots. This one packs a bit of "ouch".


But my favorite find of the weekend was the geisha paddle.


The wood is very light and not too thick, just over a quarter of an inch, but it packs a sting, even over clothing. And it's just so beautiful. The geisha is very detailed. The reverse side is painted:


Very likely by hand, I think. In fact the whole paddle looks hand made, and possibly homemade. One of my favorite things about picking up thrift store finds is that you get things that are so unique and one of a kind.

I have a fascination with geishas. I've always thought they were beautiful and graceful. I read through two copies of Memoirs of a Geisha until they fell apart. I'm skeptical of how factual the book may be, but despite their circumstances it seemed the women could wield quite a bit of power and did so with charm and grace. In particular I loved the scene in the book when Sayuri makes a young man drop a tray full of lunch boxes using only her gaze. There is something thrilling about having that kind of power.

This paddle had to come home with me.

In the weeks to come I hope to get some pictures of items I've brought home in the past, but for now I think this will do.

One more good reason to support your local thrift store.

Ms. Betty

You have to wonder...

Abel's been a bad influence on me. His creative rewritings of his surroundings have me seeing spankings everywhere.

For example...I take a taxi to work on Saturday mornings, as I have to arrive at the store by 6 AM. Last week I called at 5:20. By 5:55 the cab had still not arrived. When he finally did arrive at 6:10 he apologized and asked how long I had been waiting. When I told him he stopped the car in the middle of the road and turned around to look at me, disbelief wide in his eyes. He told me he had been sitting in a parking lot about five blocks from me and could have picked me up within minutes. The problem? Apparently the dispatcher had not given him the call until after 6.

I was livid. I use this same cab company every week. I call at the same time every week. I ask them to pick me up in the same place every week. I tell them I need to be at work by 6 AM every week. What on earth had the girl been thinking to sit on the call that long when she new a cab driver was available moments away? She'd also had a very nasty attitude with me and with the driver on the radio. I wasn't having this.

When I arrived home that afternoon I went straight to the phone and called the cab company. The manager was at lunch but I was assured I would hear back soon. Sure enough, not half an hour had passed before the phone rang.

The man on the other end of the phone was horrified. He spoke with a heavy eastern European accent, but his English was perfect and his voice firm and confident. I was immediately impressed. Having been in this business for many years he understands just how important it is for calls to go out immediately. He also understands just what harm it could do if his company made someone late for work. He apologized again and again, and even offered to speak to my boss if I was in trouble at work. (fortunately I was not.) He then told me the young lady who had been on duty would be in shortly and that the matter "will definitely be addressed." Perhaps it was the accent, but there was a certain tone of doom in the statement that suddenly made me very sorry for the poor girl.

Satisfied, I went about the business of living and forgot all about it, until yesterday when I called for a cab again. The same young lady answered the phone. From her first words I noticed a difference. Her voice was softer and quieter, and there was a certain meekness to her tone that made me wonder. I noticed it on the radio in the cab as well. She was very quiet and differential, calling the cab drivers "Sir" and being very precise in her words.

She spoke like a young lady with a brand new attitude, and now I can't help but wonder. Just how did that polite but firm European gentleman address his dispatcher's misbehavior?

I can't help thinking that perhaps a cane was involved...

Ms. Betty

Run that by me again....

The worm, which may or may not exist, is an endangered species, so you want to dig up it's burrows, pour vinegar on it and possibly electrocute it?

Don't you have to wonder about people sometimes?

Searchers shovel Northwest dirt seeking giant worm

AP

By NICHOLAS K. GERANIOS, Associated Press Writer Nicholas K. Geranios, Associated Press Writer – Sat Jul 11, 3:16 pm ET

MOSCOW, Idaho – The giant Palouse earthworm has taken on mythic qualities in this vast agricultural region that stretches from eastern Washington into the Idaho panhandle — its very name evoking the fictional sandworms from "Dune" or those vicious creatures from the movie "Tremors."

The worm is said to secrete a lily-like smell when handled, spit at predators, and live in burrows 15 feet deep. There have been only a handful of sightings.

But scientists hope to change that this summer with researchers scouring the Palouse region in hopes of finding more of the giant earthworms. Conservationists also want the Obama administration to protect the worm as an endangered species, even though little research has been done on it.

The worm may be elusive, but there's no doubt it exists, said Jodi Johnson-Maynard, a University of Idaho professor who is leading the search for the worm. To prove it, she pulled out a glass tube containing the preserved remains of a fat, milky-white worm. One of Johnson-Maynard's graduate students found this specimen in 2005, and it is the only confirmed example of the species.

The worm in the tube is about 6 inches long, well short of the 3 feet that early observers of the worms in the late 1890s described. Documented collections of the species, known locally as GPE, have occurred only in 1978, 1988, 1990 and 2005.

The farmers who work the rich soil of the Palouse — 2 million acres of rolling wheat fields near the Idaho-Washington border south of Spokane — also have had little experience with the worm.

Gary Budd, who manages a grain elevator in Uniontown, said no farmer he knows has talked about seeing the worm. He compared the creature to Elvis.

"He gets spotted once in awhile too," Budd joked.

Johnson-Maynard and her team of worm hunters are working this summer at a university research farm and using three different methods to try and find a living worm.

One involves just digging a hole and sifting the soil through a strainer, looking for any worms that can be studied.

The second involves old-fashioned chemical warfare, pouring a liquid solution of vinegar and mustard onto the ground, irritating worms until they come to the surface.

The third method is new to this search, using electricity to shock worms to the surface.

"The electro shocker is pretty cool," said Joanna Blaszczak, a student at Cornell who is spending her summer working to find the worm alongside Shan Xu, a graduate student from Chengdu, China, and support scientist Karl Umiker.

The shocker can deliver up to 480 volts. That makes it dangerous to touch, and it could potentially fry a specimen.

On a recent day, Umiker drove eight 3-foot-long metal rods into the ground in a small circle and connected them to batteries. Then he flipped the switches. The only sound for several minutes was the hum of a cooling fan.

"I'm kind of bummed we haven't seen anything yet," Umiker said.

Eventually, a small rust-colored worm dug its way to the surface. It was not a GPE, but it was collected for study anyway.

The search for the giant worm is reminiscent of efforts in Louisiana, Florida and the swamps of eastern Arkansas to find the elusive ivory-billed woodpecker. The large, black-and-white bird was believed to be extinct until a reported sighting five years ago stirred national experts and federal funding to launch a full-blown campaign to verify its existence. Search efforts later dwindled after biologists and volunteers were unable to find the evidence they were looking for.

The GPE was described as common in the Palouse in the 1890s, according to an 1897 article in The American Naturalist by Frank Smith. Smith's work was based on four samples sent to him by R.W. Doane of Washington State University in nearby Pullman.

Massive agricultural development soon consumed nearly all of the unique Palouse Prairie — a seemingly endless ocean of steep, silty dunes — and appeared to deal a fatal blow to the worm.

They were considered extinct when Idaho graduate student Yaniria Sanchez-de Leon in 2005 stuck a shovel into the ground to collect a soil sample and found the worm that now is in the tube in Johnson-Maynard's office.

Conservation groups quickly petitioned the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to protect the worm as an endangered species, citing as proof the lack of sightings. But the agency said there simply was not enough scientific information to merit a listing.

Conservationists recently filed a second request, saying they had more information. They are also hoping the Obama administration will be more friendly than the Bush administration. The GPE would be the only worm protected as an endangered species.

Doug Zimmer of the Fish and Wildlife Service in Seattle said the agency isn't ready to comment on the petition.

"It's always good to see new information and good science on any species," Zimmer said.

Farmers are keeping a wary eye on the process.

"The concern is whether a listing is going to end up curtailing farming activities," said Dan Wood of the Washington State Farm Bureau. "I don't know if people plan to stop all farming for the possibility of a worm being somewhere."

Most earthworms found in the Northwest originated in Europe, arriving on plants or in soil shipped to the New World. The giant Palouse earthworm is one of the few native species, and has become quite popular with the public.

While it's tough to come by a live GPE, visitors seem happy to take a picture with a dead one. Johnson-Maynard said she has received calls from tourists who want to come to her office and be photographed with the specimen.

"A lot of people are curious about it," she said.

I can walk!!!

I had my first physical therapy session today.

Early into it the therapist made a very interesting discovery. My hip joint was every so slightly out of alignment. Not really dislocated, just turned out a little bit too far. One quick, yet painful, adjustment later I am up and about like I never had to use a cane.

I still have work to do. Need to build the muscle back up, but I am 900% better.

Thanks for the support everyone!

One for the road

K was talking about belts recently and it reminded me of a story I'd meant to share about little bunny's visit out here a few months ago.

It was early in the morning, still dark out with a cold wind blowing as we left the hotel room. Everything was deserted. The road to the hotel wrapped around the edge of an empty field. No traffic whizzing by at 5 A.M. Even the prairie dogs were still in bed.

Little bunny and I headed towards the lights of the 7-11 a block away, in search of a quick breakfast before I caught the bus to work. We were talking quietly about not much in particular when a wicked thought struck me. My standard work "uniform" is jeans, a t-shirt and a nice thick men's leather belt I bought when I decided ladies' belts were just to frilly to be practical. I fingered the square silver buckle as we walked, waiting for the opportunity.

Suddenly I stopped walking, then started again moving more slowly. I stepped behind little bunny and slid the belt out of my belt loops. The crack echoed loudly in the silence, but there was nobody to hear. Terry jumped and yelped, then grinned at me. I cracked the belt on his bottom again and he moaned a bit. He lifted up the back of his coat to give me a clear shot at his jeans. We walked on, our steps punctuated by the snap of the leather on his bottom. He yelped and jumped after each blow, but still grinned when he looked back at me.

We turned a corner and found a car suddenly coming our way. I slipped the belt into my coat pocket. A moment later the driver turned and I went back to whipping bunny across the street. We walked along the side of a closed restaurant and then through it's parking lot, the belt still keeping time.

We stopped just short of the 7-11 door. I pulled the belt back on while Terry rubbed his bottom. I gave him a quick hug before turning towards the door. There would be more later, but first we needed coffee...

Ms. Betty

Update on the New Cane

For those of you who many have missed my last post, I am referring to the aluminum cane I was given by the doctor to help walk after what I thought was a simple bruise got a bit more complicated.

What started as a bruise, graduated to possible hematoma, and got demoted back to deep tissue contusion (meaning I did not bruise the skin, but the muscles beneath) is now a deep tissue contusion with evidence of muscle strain.

Which means?

I saw the doctor again this past Thursday. I'm doing okay for short distances, but longer distances are still very painful. I still tend to fall for no reason as the leg weakens and I still don't have my full range of motion. I am still using the cane.

So now we've added physical therapy to the mix.

However, I am not too worried. The doctor said quite clearly that this is not a serious injury, just a rather inconvenient one. Very reassuring.

Two more weeks and I'll be myself again.

But let this be a lesson to all of you out there...I was injured by a keyboard drawer that someone else left sticking out into a walkway. You would not think such a minor thing could get so serious, but apparently it can. In fact it's not even a rare injury.

So take the time to slid them in when you're done. Your thighs (and others) will thank you.

Ms. Betty

A Cane of a Different Color

I got a new cane yesterday. Unfortunately, it's not the kinky kind.

A coworker left her keyboard drawer out. I walked into it. Two days later what I thought was just a bruise is now a deep tissue injury. It's left me unable to put weight on my leg for the next few days, so I have a nice shiny aluminum cane to help me hobble around for a week or so.

(for those of you keeping track, yes I always have been a bit accident prone, and that mixed with careless coworkers makes for lots of oopes and ows for Ms. Betty)

Still I could not help but smile when the nurse asked me if I'd ever used a cane before. ;)

Ms. Betty

Saving For a Rainy Day-- the Forfeit

I went down to pc's office about 9 AM Monday morning. After a long, dry weekend he was more than ready for release by the time I arrived. Even with the curve locked tight I could tell how swollen and frustrated he was. I let him out of the cage and our game began.

He crouched on all fours near the wall of his foyer, completely nude except for his kneepads. On my command he lowered his shoulders and raised his hips, giving me access to his rectum. One by one I took three ice cubes from the cup beside me and slipped them in. He wiggled and gasped as the ice chilled him from the inside out. His heavy pants of breath filled the small room. He gasped, chanting "oh god" quietly over and over again.

When the ice melted and his temperature returned to normal, pc took his first "steps" towards the far wall of his inner office, the finish line of our game. For our purposes, a "step" counted as lifting a hand or leg and then putting it back down on the ground. Each counted separately, so if he moved a hand and knee at the same time he used two steps rather than one.

I stood back and watched as he crawled. It was a magnificent sight, the tan toned muscles stretching and rippling as he made use of as much of his large range of motion as possible. He was allowed twenty steps. In that time he managed to cover the distance across his foyer, down the hall and almost across the threshold into the inner office. I was a bit surprised (I sometimes forget just how huge a man pc is, this little game brought the reality of it home to me in a very primal way.) However, I was not disappointed. In fact I was pleased to see him think through his moves so cautiously to use them to his best advantage. It made for a much more interesting game.

But now his progress was stopped and he needed to endure the next phase of his torment to earn the right to advance again. I plucked the ginger plugs I'd carved that morning from my bag and knelt behind him. The ice had left his hole wet, allowing the plug to slip in easily. I held it in place and waited for it to take effect.

It didn't take long. Very soon he was wriggling back and forth and moaning a bit more loudly. The longer I held it in the more he rocked his bottom up and down and lamented the burn. His voice became very strained as he cried out. At last I pulled out the ginger. He sighed in relief.

pc began to crawl again, this time with the sunlight from his window tracing the sleek lines of his body; the rays highlighting the swells and hollows, seeming to carve them out of the air. By the time his twenty steps were through he'd reached the far wall.

However, the game wasn't quite over. He still burned from the ginger. I pushed more ice into his hole to cool the fire. At first there was relief, and then agony as the melted ice washed the juice of the ginger deeper inside him to singe fresh nerve endings.

After a few long moments he managed to regain his composure. I allowed him to get to his feet and gave him a very apologetic look. I told pc there was just one more tiny matter to take care of. Unfortunately it was something I could not let him out off. pc looked at the floor, obviously disappointed and a little worried, certain he was in trouble for some unknown misbehavior.

I smiled and reminded him I had a birthday coming up in just a couple of days. Unfortunately, I didn't have another in person stand in available so he'd just have to do. Stand in for what? For a birthday spanking, silly. If a birthday's coming up someone's got to get spanked, and it's not going to be me. He smiled back, delighted at the prospect. For pc spankings have always been disciplinary. He has never found anything remotely enjoyable about having his bottom reddened. The one exception to that is birthday spankings. They are the only time he really gets to feel the more sensual/pleasurable side of spanking so no matter whose birthday it is he is always willing to offer up his bottom for birthday licks.

I even let him pick the implement. He chose my purple silicone flogger. I bent him over the table and began sweeping the falls lightly over his bottom. I told him to count the "good" ones, just the ones that stung. I gave him a hard lash to demonstrate. He moaned before counting one. I went back to brushing the falls lightly over him. I took my time with it, continuing on that way, brushing back and forth gently for awhile before laying on one or two "zingers". By the time we finished he had a nice rosy glow. He teased me a bit about my lack of age, earning himself a quick hand swat in warning. His eyes widened as he straightened up.

I pulled one of the plush leather chairs out from his conference table and sat down. I gave him another smile, this one a bit more wicked than the last. I asked for the morning's paper. After a few moments he found it and brought it over. pc laid a few sheets down on the floor and knelt at their edge.

On my command he began stroking himself furiously. His fingers were a mere blur as they flew eagerly along his shaft. It did not take him long to climax. He remained kneeling at the edge of the paper, panting and thanking me for the release. I answered with a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

He got to his feet and dressed before walking me to the door. As we said our good-byes he hugged me tight and wished me a happy birthday. I thanked him before warning him to be careful as bad behavior would bring me right back down there for much less pleasant reasons. He understood. The door closed behind me as pc went back to his day.

Saving For a Rainy Day-- Friday

Friday I upped the stakes of our little game a bit. If it rained Friday, the game would end at the end of the day. If not, pc would have to remain in chastity throughout the weekend and endure a forfeit on Monday morning in order to be released.

The chance of rain was only 30%. It made for a very long day...

This is the email I left for pc before going to work:

Morning, love.

Looking at the forecast for today. They've upped things to a 30% chance of rain for today.

However, if we do get rain it's likely to be another one of those severe storms like we had Tuesday and yesterday.

So it's going to be one or the other, either completely dry or more hail, possible tornadoes and deadly lightening.

Must be odd to have to hope for weather that has the potential to destroy homes and take lives in order to be able to get your release.

What a man won't stoop to to be able to come...


The rest are his comments through out the day, beginning with his reply:

7:08AM yes, I saw the forecast too. It is very ironic that I hope for storms, just so I can get my shaft released from its prison and get to cum. It is very selfess, I guess.

11:28 AM boy, sure is clear and dry today.. kind of fitting, I am locked and dry too. I sure want to get and cum a lot when I am locked up, probably because I can't touch and get any pleasure from my shaft when it is locked in that tube. I still get some erections, probably because my shaft is trying to break out, but they always end in some pain and frustration.. pushing against the end of the cage, with no further to go. I am thankful the points are not in since the erections would then be even more painful. I do have sympathy for any boys that are locked up all the time. And, even more sympathy for boys locked up with points in - I wonder if they get to the point whree they just don't get hard with points in.

12:40 PM boy, today is dragging. The cage is a constant reminder of me being in chastity. I do wonder if I would ever get used to wearing this all the time. Probably after a while, but it would be a long while. Not a cloud in the sky right now.. and if doesn't rain, I will be in chastity all weekend. I will sure need a forfeit on Monday.


4:03 PM Doesn't look like I will get lucky today. Will be nice to get out of the cage, though.. wearing it all day long is challenging. Looks like I will need a forfeit on Monday. Probably morning is best for that.. maybe around 9 or so if that works for you. I am glad I managed to complete the game without earning any punishment. However, I am sure the forfeit will be challenging.


I arrived home about 4:30. The exchange continued from there:

4:37 PM Still at the office, finishing some things up and about to take off the cage for today and clean it. My balls and shaft are tired from being locked up all day.


4:40 PM But you did make it. Congratulations, love.

Sorry the weather didn't break your way. I expect it may be a long weekend on top of a long day for you.

But tell me, is being locked up still exciting for you?

4:44 PM yes, very exciting. But, also very challenging.


4:46 PM Which is probably part of what makes it exciting.

Hm. It's clouding up over here....Pity it's coming so late.

4:51 PM yeah, same here. but cage is off now, so I assume the game is over today.


4:52 PM If it rains you may go ahead, you are still in your office.


4:53 PM Have to leave...it still hasn't rained here.


So pc's fate was sealed, a dry weekend and a forfeit ahead of him Monday. Ironically, it began to rain all through the metro area within the next hour. Too late, unfortunately.

Saving For a Rainy Day-- Thursday

Thursday morning dawned overcast. The promise of rain hung heavy in the air, but pc found that wasn't necessarily a blessing.

11:10 AM Being locked all day does take some getting used to. I do have to adjust myself quite a bit as I sit. I did use a bit larger ring today, which I think helps more for extended wear - doesn't squeeze my balls quite as much. Before my meeting, I did try to wiggle out of that to just see if I could (knowing I was taking it off for the meeting). AT first, I thought I might be able to wiggle out, but my balls are too large. It started squeezing my balls as I tried to pull out, but there was no way I was getting my balls through that tight spot. In fact, I kind of got stuck in a painful situation, with my balls part way through, but clearly not going allthe way. Good thing I had the key.. as I quickly unlocked and took it off. A very good lesson that a boy should never try to escape ... he might get stuck in a very uncomfortable position. And, if the boy ever did manage to get out, there would be no way to get it back on. Anyway, glad I learned that lesson.

11:22 AM I also have a new apprecation for women and going to the bathroom. Having to sit to pee with this cage on makes me realize what women go though. I don't think I will ever leave a toilet seat up again after I use it.

11:35 AM looks like it might be clouding up. Looking foward to some rain and getting out and getting to cum. Also, somewhat worried, though, if it starts and stops raining several times. I can cum quickly the first time, but sometimes it takes a bit more to cum the second time. In my youth, I could even cum 3 or 4 times masturbating.. Not sure I could cum 3 or 4 times, but i guess I will find out if it starts and stops that many times. This is quite the game.

12:52 PM boy, just started pouring here... quickly got the cage off and masturbated and came in about 2 minutues. Came a lot too. Cage is now back on and it is still raining. I have a feeling I will be doing this again when it stops and then starts.

1:45 PM started raining again a bit ago.. I quickly took the cage off and began stroking furiously. I finally came after about 4 minutes of stroking and it was still raining. Didn't know if I was going to make that. I sure hope it doesn't rain again today. My shaft is starting to get a bit sore.

4:15 PM I think I am lucky it didn't rain again this afternoon. Not sure I could have cum a third time.

Saving For a Rainy Day-- Wednesday

As I mentioned in my last post, for three days pc was at the mercy of the weather to determine whether or not he would be let out of his new chastity cage.

Throughout each day he kept me posted on his thoughts and feelings as he waited for the rain. With his permission, I will be sharing some of his comments with you.

Wednesday--

7:30AM Just got in and put the cage on. When the click of the lock happened and the sky is pretty clear, I realized it may be a while before I am out. I also saw the forecast for the next two days and I have a feeling I will be in the cage all day long. I can just imagine the helplessness of a man that gets locked up and doesn't know when his keyholder will let him out. Or, a man that cums without permission and is then locked up for punishment for a month. Boy, I bet it is a quite a desperation moment.

10:47AM It sure is sunny right now. I hadn't thought about this, but I guess I willb e going to the bathroom the rest of today sitting down...Sure hoping for clouds and rain.

1:30 PM boy, long day. 1;30 and still sunny. My shaft is aching trapped in its cage and would love to get out. I do get periodic erections, but that just is frustrating, straining against the cage and then my balls start to ache, with the increased size and pressure from that. Boy, being caged like this sure makes a boy know who is in charge. right in the middle of another erection and the cage just keeps it trapped. I guess on the positive side, I don't have to have the pionts in.. then the erections wuld be very, very painful. And, the thing about this curve is that it lets me get somewhat hard, but that is it.. once I fill the tube completely, it stops right there and aches until the erection subsides.

1:47PM Also, when I do get an erection going in my cage, my balls turn blueish, probably from the increased pressure of the cage on them. Maybe that is where the blue ball term came from. Once the erection subsides, the color comes right back.

2:20 PM at least it is now starting to get cloudy. I am hoping for getting out of this cage and having a release. I can now see how men would be become very submissive and service oriented locked up like this. I would be doing anything I could to please a keyholder. I can't imagine being locked for an extended period.. after a while, I bet I would get lots of erections all the time... and it would always end in aching and pain until it subsided?

2:29 PM it is gettting darker, but still no rain. Staying off the phone right now, hoping it starts raining. I am convinced men would be much more obedient if they were locked up like me. Being locked up all day like this makes me realize how much I touch myself during a day. Unfortuntaly, with the cage on, I can't get any meaningful touch on my aching organ. Darn, getting hard again.

3:30PM finally, the rain came and I quickly came during the rain. Cage is back on.. and the rain is still falling. Kind of strange putting the cage back on after cumming - I imagine a boy who is caged the whole time is kind of bummed when that cage goes right back on after he cums.

4:17 PM rained stopped and sun is out.. bizarre weather. I will curse the sun tommorrow I am sure

Saving For a Rainy Day

As long as I've known him, pc has had a fascination with rainy days. They bring out a certain restlessness and deep yearnings only a stinging bottom can quell.

Unfortunately, our schedules rarely meet up just right to take advantage of those stormy days. A pity, really, but one of life's little quirks.

So here we are again as spring gives way to summer and Colorado once again enters what some call "monsoon season", that time of year when heat and heavy humidity smolder all day until giving way to pounding thunderstorms sometime in the late afternoon or evening.

The rain doesn't materialize every day, but when it does the relief is overwhelming. The storm breaks loose and it feels like taking a deep sigh after holding your breath for hours. The wait for the rain seems endless. You pace back and forth all day trying to think of anything but how hot, damp, and sticky you feel. Your clothes stick, your skin crawls and you'll do anything-- Anything for relief. Then the wave of the storm crashes over you and the weight of the air melts away. Nothing has ever felt so good or so right.

Of course those of you who have experienced the dread and joy of a chastity cage know that other things can feel that way. Historically, there has been a strong mythological link between rain and male fertility, so it seems only right to combine the two for kinky purposes.

Recently I got pc one of those cages and I've been slowly conditioning him to it. He's worn it a little while every day, longer each time as he grows more used to it.

Last week, we were talking about the weather when a very wicked thought occurred to me. I drew up a set of rules, and we began the game: The weather forecast predicted a significant chance of rain every day for the week, so we made a little bet. Each morning he put on his cage, taking it off only when it rained. There was no in between. For three whole days the rain controlled his personal "fertility". If it rained, so did he, any time it rained, every time it rained. If it stayed dry, he stayed dry.

It made for a very interesting week...

Comments on recent news events

I don't condone celebrity gossip, I do not approve of tabloids, and as rule I refuse to speculate on the private lives of famous people; however, I do not think any of us in the kinky world can really ignore the story that broke this week about the way a famous actor may have died, nor the warning and wake up call it sends.

What I would love to do is rant about how the worst of human nature and those who cater to it twist things and exploit others to the point that even the best and brightest among us may be reduced to a laughing stock. This man, this brilliant man and gifted actor, loved and respected a man with friends and family is gone. Thanks to gossip mongers the feelings of those loved ones he as left behind have been trampled on and the man's legacy will not be his talent or his gifts, but instead a string of sneers, snickers, and tasteless jokes.

Well not here. The man deserves better, and if nothing else let us let the way he died remind us all once again of why we developed some of the safety rules we have in the kinky world and why wise players follow them.

For reasons I cannot fathom, an attitude of scorn has developed towards the whole subject of scene safety. I once read a post on a discussion board where I young lady said she would not play with someone who took safety precautions because if they needed to be prepared for accidents they obviously didn't know what they were doing. Apparently, she believed that only incompetent players have accidents. Oh dear.

But the attitude is remarkably and disturbingly common. Safety warnings, advice, and cautions are mocked and those who raise concerns are treated as controlling, melodramatic, or just plain moronic. While not exclusively, most of the time the pattern seems to be members of the younger generation sneering at the counsel of the older more experienced generation of players. I see this attitude not just in the kinky community but in society at large. I read a non kinky article awhile back talking about the lack of elders in society. Well it's not that we don't have them, it is just that everyone is too busy making their own noise to be able to hear them.

I suppose this is a normal part of being young, but it worries me to see so many people needlessly stumbling in the dark. Once upon a time, when there was no internet and meetings of organized groups were not easily found it was understandable for us all to struggle alone, going by trial and error, but these days with so much information available at the tips of our fingers, there is just no excuse. Be as arrogant as you like, but believing you can fly won't stop you from falling through that open manhole up the street. It'll just keep you from finding a way to climb out.

I understand the hesitancy to reach out, the uncertainty, the reasons why you may believe you can't approach others with your needs. Most of us feel that. There is taboo, there is shame, there is fear of ridicule, of hurting those close to us, of the real damage that can be done to reputations and careers, but you are better off in the hands of a safe and discrete person than you are risking your life. Would you rather risk having a secret exposed or having your loved ones' last memory of you be the way you died?

That being said, here, once again, are Ms. Betty's rules for playing safe. Not safe as in unexciting, uninspiring or vanilla pretending to be kinky, but safe as in preventing accidents and or trips to the emergency room.

1) Never practice bondage alone. Yes, you have a sure fire way out, the odds of something happening are small, and you have the phone in reach just in case, but everyone who has ever died after having tied themselves up thought that, too. And no they weren't just stupid or inexperienced. Improbable is not the same as impossible. What are you going to do if your smoke alarm goes off while you're waiting for that chunk of ice to melt? how about when you drop that knife and it bouces waaaaaay over there? Or the phone? Gee the power just went out and the line is down, or your battery's dead. Now what? Or what happens when you start to choke and suddenly can't breathe? Are you going to have time to call for help?

2) Never leave someone unmonitored while they are tied up. There are different levels of monitoring. (See Jay Wiseman for details.) Not all monitoring requires that you stay in the same room, however you should use the amount of monitoring appropriate for the bondage. The minium is to never be out of shouting distance and to check on them regularly, at least every few minutes. That's minutes, not hours.

3) Use gags with caution. Do not leave someone alone while they are gagged for a prolonged period of time. How long is safe? Never, or never long enough for them to lose oxygen supply to the brain if they choke before you get back. Some doctors say one or two minutes, others say you may have up to five. I'd go with less than 30 seconds, and only if you absolutely must.
Have a second way to signal trouble if someone can't speak. Personally I don't use gags at all. I've found a fun alternative of giving someone a dog toy to hold in his mouth instead. It has the same effect, he can bite down on it to help cope with the pain of a flogging and best of all he can spit it out in an emergency, or since it takes concious control to hold it if he drops it I know immediately that something is wrong.

4) Never mix drugs or alcohol with play. Even be cautious of perscription or over the counter medications. This goes tripple for a mediation you may not have taken before. I took an over the counter allergy remedy for the first time a few weeks back. It left me very hyper and very dizzy. (not a fun combination) I was very aware of my surroundings, but it was very hard to figure out what to do with the information. Even in a light scene, both parties need to be able to be aware if something is wrong. Drugs and alcohol dull that awareness or making it harder to react if you do realize something is wrong.

5) Do not wrap rope or other constrictive material around someone's neck. Yes some people pratice strangulation as part of their play. Some people jump out of airplanes, too. That's not to say it's wrong, but someone who deliberately chooses to take that risk (I would hope) is well informed and knows exactly what they are doing. So unless you are deliberately planning to deprive someone of air, do not tie things around their neck. (Mind you I said tie, using a buckled collar is different. If you've ever put a collar on a pet you know how to do that safely, use the same rules for putting a collar on a person.) Do not, however, anchor them by their collar and then leave the room.

6) Do your homework. Know what you are doing and how you are doing it before the session begins. Know how to do it right, what can go wrong and what to do if it does. Information is everywhere, go out and get it.

7) Test your equipment. Test it before the first time you use it and before each time you use it. Rope frays, locks wear out, keys become worn. If it's not working properly, repair or replace it.

8) Have a safeword. This is probably the most maligned safety caution out there. It could be a blog by itself, but later. I'm sick of the feeble and idiotic arugments against using one. They have all the merit and intelliegence of arguments against using seatbelts. My take on it is fairly simple. Having a safeword is like having a fire exitinguisher. It's better to have it and never need it than to need it and not have it.

This is far from a complete list, but it's the basics. Use your head. Think things through. Accept that things can go wrong and it's best to know what to do if they do. Have a plan and stick to it. You do have to know. You do have to be ready. Make sure you are.

Ms. Betty

"Hers"

The moment I saw it I knew I had to have it. Long and black with a slightly padded faux leather back, the shoe brush called to me from the moment I spotted it among the pile of that day's flotsam on my sorting table. I picked it up, the handle fit my hand perfectly. I swung it back and forth, it wasn't particularly heavy, but it wasn't too light, either. The wedge shaped head stung just a bit against my palm as I struck it lightly. I ran a finger over the long red nylon bristles, they were hair soft, bristles made to treat leather with gentle care. I imagined they'd feel almost luxurious brushed over tender skin. I turned it over to get a good look at the back. That's when I noticed the word HERS printed along the back in large gold letters.

And it was.


Ms. Betty

PS, Don't worry folks, I don't keep all the fun pervertibles for myself. In fact if anyone happens to be in the area and in need of one, there are about a dozen nice large beach ball paddles in our summer section...Best moment of the season for me so far? Cooking up an convincing innocent reason for pricing them individually rather than in pairs and answering the question "what good are they without the balls?" with a straight face.

You know you're kinky...

When you're watching someone pick out composite decking on the home improvement channel and all you can do is wonder what you could do with a paddle made out of the stuff.

Ms. Betty

For those interested in historical fantasy

Are you paying attention, Haron? I'd hate for you to miss another one. You'd end up in trouble for sure. ;)

Then again perhaps this is one you've come across before...

So it's a holiday weekend in the U.S. I'm off work and nursing a black and blue toe from a run in with a coffee mug (ouch) which is leaving me completely idle as I'm supposed to stay off said toe. So I thought it might be a good time to look up a few of those things I've always meant to and never had the time.

The usual, find out what a wombat looks like, remind myself of the name of that actor in that movie I can never remember, search for someone qualified to replace the lock on antique cuffs that came with no key...just general trivia.

One of the things on the list was to find out more about the historical figure of Zenobia. I have been curious about her since Heinlein made a reference to her towards the end of Stranger In a Strange Land. So I popped her name into Google and found a rather standard article on Wikipedia. Zenobia was quite the warrior, apparently, expanding her territory into an empire and conquering Egypt. However, her reign was cut short by her defeat at the hands of the Roman general Aurelian, who captured her, and (here's the kinky part) lead her through the streets of Rome bound in golden chains...

After that she became philosopher apprarently, which I'm guessing may have meant that the great queen ended up a school girl again. Perhaps under the personal tutelege of her captor, the general?

My, doesn't the mind just reel with the possibilities?