When going through some things, I found these old essays from a spanking session I did in 2013 or so. It was a live session with a long-term playmate who has a penchant for in-depth, creative scenes. He’s an amazing spanker! We’ve done so many sessions that I can only guess what the scene was this time, but it’s still fun to look back. I’m glad he left me with some reminder. The red, bold text is his; the black is mine.
Good presentation and very cooperative.
Can’t believe you made me spank you through two layers of clothing! -1
9 (Very generous score.)
Write three to six sentences on how this spanking felt!
Part of the punishment with most OTK spanking is having to hold myself up. As my bottom becomes more and more tender, my arms and legs start to feel weak and I start to sink down.
It was very kind of you to give me such a steady, rhythmic warm-up. It was a bit easier to take the harder spanks at the end, though I still yelled and twitched a bit.
My bottom only feels a little warm. I should have asked to pull down my shorts at least. I think I’ll regret the softening effect of the extra layers on my warm-up during my next spanking.
10 (Total 19)
Write how important it is to be home at curfew.
I know that you set a curfew for me because you want me to be safe, rested, and behave in an age-appropriate manner. It is more important to impress my parents with my ability to follow rules that are only in place for my own good than it is to impress peers whose parents are too lenient.
If I am not home by curfew, I will miss out on other opportunities by proving to my parents that I am not responsible enough to handle more relaxed rules when I’m more mature. I’m only hurting myself and making my parents worry about me. A good girl would not do that.
Bare bottom with wood, excellent choice.
10 (Total 29)
Write what you will do the rest of the weekend.
Touching your spanked bottom while I write -1
29 – 1 = 28
I have a project due next Friday. I wasn’t going to start it until Wednesday or so, but I think that now I’ll do that. I’m too embarrassed to go out in a short skirt or to explain to anyone that I still get spanked.
If I get bored, I’ll probably watch TV or read a magazine, but I’ll ask you first. I know that I’m most likely not allowed to go out for the rest of the weekend, so I won’t ask.
In this series, I discuss different sexually formative moments. I don’t usually use names, in order to protect the privacy of the participants.
Admitting that I was into AB/DL to a non AB/DL for the first time and being told to follow my pornographic bliss:
I was at a bondage photography workshop as a model. I was about 19 years old and only just getting started in proper porn after a year of shooting with shifty GWCs (guys with cameras), mostly booked via Craig’s List. The woman who ran the workshop was rigging me, casually chatting about our interests. She was telling me how she got into rope and why she decided to pursue it as a career.
“And what are you into, girlie?” she asked in her thick accent. I was used to this question from men who were clients and had learned to play up our mutual interests, but this woman was actually asking, as part of a conversation, rather than asking me to seduce her, and it felt odd to just ramble on about how much I loved rope bondage. I mean, I do like rope bondage, but that wouldn’t have been a wholly honest answer.
I blushed scarlet. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Here, whisper in my ear.” She leaned in quickly, not even considering that I wouldn’t tell her–and how could I not answer her? She was so beautiful and talented, kind and sincere.
Pulling my chin into my chest, I mumbled, “I like, you know…diapers. Like, diaper punishment stuff.”
“Ah!” She pulled back and kept tying me, rigging me up with speed and skill. “Well, that’s what you’ve got to shoot, then. If you try to shoot something you’re not into, the footage will come out crap. You have to shoot what you love, or people can tell. Trust me.”
I did. And I started shooting for PamperedPenny.com soon after.
First real public humiliation that was not an act of cruelty and was purely enjoyable:
I was in a BDSM porn star group, a sort of professional social club. We were all chatting at a meeting, waiting for the last member to show up. I was perhaps 21 or 22. The last member called one of the other women and said that she was running late–and that she had to pee, so that we had better have the way to the bathroom cleared in anticipation. “Or,” she teased, “I can just use Penny.”
Everyone laughed, but not in a mean way. I turned bright red and wondered if she really meant it. (She didn’t.)
My first real porn shoot:
It was my very first professional shoot. My boyfriend at the time drove me to the building and walked me inside. There was a woman sitting at a counter, eating sushi and chatting with the producer about website promotion. “I don’t do much. My site has been around for four years and promotes itself.”
As I started to pull my clothes out of my bag to show the producer, my boyfriend took off. I had asked him to stay and was surprised. Apparently the woman had asked him to leave, unapologetically and firmly–regally. She knew her limits and wasn’t afraid to voice them.
We had a great scene–or at least I remember it that way. I’ve never seen the finished product. She was calm, cruel, masterful, and got the most out of me and the other submissive through even pacing and seemingly intuitive empathy. I admire her and her work greatly and she continues to inspire me.
Last weekend, Manny and I got age play married.
You may be asking what that is and, indeed, so did everyone I talked to about it, including my age play buddies.
I don’t know if this is something outside of my local community, but, in the San Francisco age play community, or at least the part of it that I interact with, age play couples who want to show that they are serious about each other go to Build A Bear. From there, the ritual can really go anywhere, but the idea is that the couple will make a bear together, something special to represent how they feel about each other.
He didn’t want to tell me where we were going, which was risky, because I hate surprises, but I figured it out on my own and was pretty exciting. However, the day quickly became disappointing.
First of all, he asked me to wear a very adult dress. It was at the dry cleaner, so I was able to wear something a little cuter and more innocent-looking, but…the cloud had formed, and only grew bigger as the day wore on. I just completely failed to regress in any way, and I kind of blame him–for his failure to inspire me and for trying in the first place.
It was an exciting time because I was going to wear a diaper with him for the first time. In a molly-induced cloud of euphoria, I had admitted that I wanted him to diaper me. He was extremely enthusiastic and remained so after we came down. It would bring us closer together, it would be romantic! We were both rather giddy at the thought.
However, as the weekend we had set aside for the age play date drew closer, he started asking questions. This is good, but it revealed how unintuitive this was for him. Usually he doesn’t have to ask a bunch of questions about a fantasy that I’ve introduced and the few that he might ask reveal the depth of his understanding for what I’ve wanted.
The diaper thing, however was beyond him. I had asked him to put me in one the night before, so that I could wake up in it and we could spend our whole day with me in role. He didn’t know how to put it on. Okay, I get that. I was expecting it. I helped him. He didn’t touch me at all. There were no sparks of acceptance or a shared secret or even a dirty thrill. It was just…wearing something, like any other boring item I might sleep in.
I had tried to explain to him that diapers were sexual for me, but he clearly had no idea what that meant. He assumed that it meant it was okay for him to touch me sexually while I was in the diaper, not that it was central to my arousal and that I wanted to enjoy it with him, sensually.
In the morning, when I announced shyly that I had wet my diaper, he responded with discomfort, gingerly rushing through the change and touching me as little as possible. I haven’t worn a diaper again. Neither of us has asked.
After the change, I got dressed and we headed out to Build A Bear. I was burning with embarrassment. I couldn’t forget myself. Usually when I’m doing something like that with an age play friend, I think, “I’m a paying customer and I’m not hurting anyone. They can bloody well deal.” This time, however, just being there was humiliating. I couldn’t stop KNOWING that everyone was wondering why the hell a grown woman was in Build A Bear. I wasn’t even wearing anything particularly babyish, no diaper. Jesus, I can just imagine what a wreck I would have been if I was wearing a diaper.
The best part of the trip was interacting with the staff. They were positive, friendly, and non-judgemental–or at least they judged me quietly in their thoughts, and I don’t care about that. And the bear I got. He’s absolutely perfect in every way.
After that, we went to dinner at my favorite restaurant. Manny left his wallet there. I had to drive an hour to go back and get it later.
Overall the experience was hugely disappointing, but I wonder if we just tried too much. Or maybe it really is just a failed dynamic for us. Manny and I have had many conversations about how he and I have more of a brother-sister relationship than a father-daughter thing. Also, if I compare it to my relationship with my ex-husband, he and I have a lot more fun. With Luke, it would have been enjoyable to get dressed up like a doll, go shopping, and then go to dinner. With Manny, it would be better to throw on overalls, build a fort, order a pizza, play video games, and rough house. For Christ’s sake, my engagement ring is a wooden, heart-shaped bead on a friendship bracelet.
I think that he and I can build a way to enjoy an age play relationship, but I don’t know if diapers will ever be a part of it. I’m grateful to him for trying, even though I’m still rather pissed that it went so badly. Cross your fingers for us!
Dressed in a pink, satin blouse, Penny pulls some baby oil from the diaper cupboard. This is the only thing you’re allowed to use when you cum now, little boy!
Ms. Thorngate is tired of Penny having accidents in class. Clearly the girl needs some special form of discipline.
Penny is stripping out of her nursery wear and asking to be fucked on her cloth diaper. Her pigtails don’t seem so innocent now!
Penny is wearing a plastic ABDL dress and soft, crinkly plastic pants, which she pulls down to expose her thick, cloth diaper.