Category Archives: shopping

A Student Scribe and the Collar Challenge

i-is-for-ida [Note: This blog does have spanking content. However, it is buried in a great deal of non-spanking content. If you need a quick fix you may want to surf on by.]

After a week spent cleaning and moving, I’ve finally gotten back into practicing calligraphy (the fact my dad was staying out of town this weekend is likely connected to my returned focus as well as some spanking play). For the past couple of days I’ve both had stuff I’ve wanted to blog here (and on caligráfica) while also doing lettering practice. What’s happened is that I’ve done the calligraphy and left the blogging to now, just keeping the practice album up-to-date. Soo, here’s some thoughts.

[Something you may have noticed when looking at the most recent Tinies is the addition of rather shaky Gothic capitals. At my class last Monday, in addition to going over our recent homework, taking us down from a 5mm to 2 1/2mm nib, and discussing the coming illumination project, my teacher also introduced capitals. I’m struggling with them, but just trusting that practice will eventually make them better and all that. On the “K is for Kate” I’m experimenting with using a reddish brown ink for the “K” and “Kate” but as the ink is thinner than the black, I’m not sure how it works out. Like most of my lettering practice, it looks a lot better photographed than it does in person.]

k-is-for-kateRipple effects

Our apartment seems to be getting re-organized and cleaned room by room. It’s amazing the amount of weird stuff we were saving for reasons lost in time and space. These included included random cardboard boxes and odd bits of outmoded technology. Purging things is hard for me, but once I start it feels so good I don’t want to stop.

Here’s an odd fact though — my motivation to get the house organized seems connected to practicing calligraphy. Further, the cleaning and organizing has moved outward from my calligraphy “studio” (as a friend pleases me by calling it) into the rest of the apartment. I’ve organized and now try and keep tidy our entire bedroom (which means keeping up on laundry since otherwise it takes over the floor). My dad’s moving in prompted me/us to re-organize the guest room and bathroom. This weekend we worked on the box room / technology closet. Having things organized has me feel a bit more centered – a Good Thing).

Collars and Shopping: The Challenge Begins

collar-closeupGetting organized required a bit of shopping, meaning Saturday dawned with plans for a trip to Costco and Dick Blick’s (both for a paper storage portfolio and also supplies for the coming illumination project). We also planned to go out for breakfast (at lunch time).

The night before, Paul, who has something of a fetish in this area, told me I’d be wearing a collar and tie all day Saturday. I reminded him we would not be at home and was told that was the point. After moaning a bit about having to be “in uniform” on a Saturday, I went to sleep, excited about the next day.

The next morning, after Paul had a bit of a lie-in and I spent happy hours consuming coffee and surfing friends’ blogs in my pjs, Paul told me it was time to get dressed. He picked out the shirt (one of the ones he had custom made so while it fits perfectly everywhere else, the collar is just a tiny bit too small). I got to choose the tie based on the other things I was wearing, but Paul added a pair of knickers to the “Items to Be Worn” list. This meant I couldn’t really wear my jeans because if you’ve ever worn heavy school knickers, you’ll know they give a new meaning to the term “visible panty line.” I decided on a slightly-too-short-for-someone-my-age black pleated skirt, striped tights, black docs and a black sweater with white trim. The tie (as you can see) is a burgundy and grey striped one.

I took a while getting dressed since I was also tweeting and consulting travel websites, but finally I was dressed and the game began. The game? Yes, game. Or rather, challenge. You see, as things exist in our world, the collar on these shirts belongs to Paul, not me. I was informed that on Saturday I wasn’t to tug at, fiddle with or even touch it at all. Period. The penalty for each infraction while we were out: 12 smacks with the heavy hairbrush when we got home. (This was in addition to the base of 12 at which I was apparently starting.)

Eeek!

Those of you who know me know I have rather nasty eczema and an annoying habit of fidgeting, rubbing and scratching, though of course I shouldn’t. One of my eczema spots is my neck. Within minutes of buttoning it, the skin under the snug collar began to itch.

I complained. Paul reminded me that I could always ask him to slide his fingers under the collar to relieve the skin (or pull it tighter though he didn’t say that). But no touching for me.

Great. My collar had rarely felt snugger.

Twitter Tells the Tale

On the way to breakfast I discovered that by using my iPhone constantly I could keep my hands busy enough and away from my neck. My tweeting was sky high, with the result that I ended up logging each failure and its location.

First tweet was a picture of my collar and tie

2:58PM Damn! Made it thro breakfast but forgot &pulled on tie in cashier line. HB count now at 24 + I was scolded in parking lot. Sulking.

From breakfast we went to Dick Blick’s (art store). My focused shopping and full hands kept me safe there. (I even ended up buying my first paper tube for use holding paper.) But then we left…

3:55 PM Ack. Not thinking & fiddling w/ collar again. Must keep hands busy. HB count now at 36. =8-0

Sensing a pattern? As soon as my hands are free, they seem to head for my collar. Feh!

5:53 PM Due to Costco stress & distraction, HB total now at 48.

The Costco trip was a success. We got an amazing deal on a great set of chrome storage shelves (for the closet) at Costco for less than $28. They’re amazing because despite the low price they don’t suck and each shelf can supposedly hold 350 lbs. Nonetheless, Paul and I have not tried sitting one one together in order to test this claim. It does seem to be doing a great job holding stuff.

But that’s not so interesting, right?

Payment Made

ebony-hairbrushOkay, about the hairbrush and me. On the way home I whined that all the stress of shopping and crowds had left me feeling tired. Paul very kindly said my hairbrushing could be postponed until later. I’m always happy with spankings being “later” especially since they sometimes end up not happening. However, in this case, the count would continue to rise with each slip of my hand until after I got out of the collar. Which meant until after the hairbrushing. After an hour of stalling, I finally literally asked for it. As much as I wasn’t looking forward to 48 whacks, 60 would have been worse.

The chair was put in the empty space in our room — a space generally only used for the chair. Paul bared me, put me over his lap, told me not to put my hands back and started whacking me with the brush. The whacks weren’t super hard, I know he’s capable of much harder ones, but without a warm up they hurt. I was in no sense of the word brave. I didn’t put my hands back, but only because Paul said there’d be an extra 12 each time I did it. Instead I tightened my grip on the chair, whined, kicked and finally howled.

I lost track of the count at 12 and begged to know what it was. Paul wouldn’t tell me, but just continued to whack me. Not knowing the count heightened feeling of being out of control, of being trapped. I protested that he might just keep going forever then. Fortunately it wasn’t long before the spanking reached a climax and was over. I’m sure he didn’t give me extra and am equally sure it took less than five minutes. But felt it like an eternity.

Afterwards he put together the new shelves while I cooed over organized my new art supplies.

[This entry’s non-kinky content is cross-blogged at caligrafica. Guest modeling by Carrots and Small Bear.]

My Ugly Shoes

shoes1Earlier today I tweeted this picture of my ugly new shoes.  I’d just bought them at my favorite charity shop (benefiting the American Cancer Society) across from the local Coffee Bean.  They’re from a charity shop so the shoes aren’t really new, but new

shoes2

enough as to make no real difference).  These are, as was confirmed by my dear friends (also on Twitter) Adele, Natty and Casey, ugly shoes.  They are sort of shoes a girl is forced to wear, are purchased for rather than by her (despite my activities to the contrary).

These particular shoes make my US7 / UK5 sized feet look huge and long — like a teen forced into little girl mary janes.  Their brown color is drab and boring.  They have flat leather sole which are slippery, noisy, sturdy and the very opposite of high-heeled glamor.  They make me think of shoes purchased for a 15 year-old girl during WWII — a girl longing for pumps and stockings but forced to wear (and be outwardly thankful for) ugly practical shoes. [Note: Tony Elka added to this fantasy for me by pointing out a girl of that era not grateful for her good fortune is probably due a cold bath and then some.]

shoes3I’ve got a lot of shoes and many of them are quite ugly.  Ugly shoes seem to go with my sense of being oppressed into wearing uniforms and other attributes of childhood / girlhood without being either overly cute or frilly. Most of my ugly shoes are school related — and I’ve included a selection of pictures here.  True, I photographed only one of three pairs of my buckle Docs, but you get the idea.

shoes4Chief among the shoes I think of as “ugly” are my black and white saddle shoes.  I think of them as probably the most fetish-y footwear I own and will ever own.  They were purchased on a special outing with a scene friend more than ten years ago (I wrote about it at the time for soc.sexuality.spanking — the original story is archived on the The Treehouse.  At the time I wrote that I  expected never to wear them enough for them to break in, let alone wear out.  As it’s happened, wearing them for scenes and Shadow Lane parties has been enough to run the heels down just a bit.  A great irony however is there was a time first grade when my feet were still too small for black and white saddle shoes and I was forced to wear the all white kind (to much teasing of wearing “baby shoes” sad to say. So when I wear them, I remember my father driving up to Los Angeles from San Diego where the coveted black and whites were carried in my size.

When I was in second grade I was forced to memorize a poem which, as is the way with my brain, has never left (though don’t ask me to decline Latin nouns please).  Here it is, as best as I can remember it.

shoes5

New shoes, new shoes,
Red and pink and blue shoes.
Tell me, what would you choose
If they’d let us buy?

Buckle shoes, bow shoes,
Pretty pointy-toe shoes,
Strappy, cappy low shoes —
Please give me some to try.

shoes6

Bright shoes, white shoes,
Dandy-dance-by-night shoes,
Perhaps-a-little-tight shoes,
Like some? So would I.

…but

Flat shoes, fat shoes,
Stump-Along-Like-That shoes,
Wipe-Them-on-the-Mat shoes,
That’s the sort they’ll buy.

shoes7The fact is, I do have pretty shoes too. Paul would claim I have lots of those as well, though I would disagree — I don’t have very many compared to most women of my age that I know.  There’s a reason for that and he’s partly it.  Unlike many of his gender, Paul doesn’t like the sight of women in heels (or garter belt and stockings for that matter). The shoes he’s bought for me have all either been “school” related or, in the case of last Christmas, an inspired gift of very snug and comfy Ugg boots.  When I wear my “pretty shoes,” the ones with straps and heels, I can feel him mentally changing my feet into something lower and more comfortable.

shoes8More sensible.

And uglier.

Shadow Lane: Saturday Morning Shopping

For whatever reason, I woke up at 6:30.  Spent a few minutes online and then decided to shower, go down stairs, get coffee and blog.  A latte clutched to me, I settled on a comfy bench and pulled out my beloved MacBook and stuck my earbuds in my ears.

I have to confess that part of the reason I plugged in my ipod was in the expectation that this would mean someone would come and talk to me soon.  Even so, it was a huge surprise to look up and see Niki standing their with her partner HH.  Apparently she had already spoken to Bailey (who was coming down soon) and Pab (who was not, though had woken up enough to confirm that I wasn’t in our room). Niki’s instinct to search for me near coffee just shows how well she knows me.

not-bettie-pageA quick conversation showed I had no plans.  Niki did.  She wanted us to go over to the mall at Planet Hollywood and explore the Betty Page shop there.  That sounded like a great idea to me. We collected Bailey, dropped the MacBook in my room, told Pab where we were going and headed out. (okay, I know the picture is from the film and isn’t really Betty Page.  But it’s cute anyway, isn’t it?)

At the cab stand we ran into Dr. Dan who was also headed to the mall (he was looking for dance music).  He shared a cab with us which was a good thing for a few reasons.  First, Dan is a very nice guy indeed.  Second, once in the cab I realized I had left my wallet on the table in the hotel room (!!!) so it was great that my sponging was spread a bit thinner and third, I could talk with him about having forgotten one of my medications. Ever the helpful gentleman, he offered to get the information from me later and call the ‘script into a local pharmacy.

After wandering around the casino for 10 minutes like mice in a maze, Niki, Bailey and I finally found the mall and then the Betty Page shop. The store was a treasure trove of wonderful dresses.  My forgotten wallet seemed like a wise decsion as I looked on the lovely dresses.  You see, I’ve gone up a size recently and, while trying not to be crazy about my weight as nothing is as tedious as me whittering on about body image, I didn’t really want to buy a lovely dress that would, by summer, (hopefully) need to be altered in order to fit.  Bailey, like me, was admiring the many lovely things while Niki actually tried some on. She found a fantastic dress (well, actually she found many fantastic dresses, but this dress looked especially amazing and so she bought it.

While Niki was busy in the dressing room, Bailey found the spanking bench / machine discretely located in the back of the store behind velvet ropes.  Its shiny red leather surfaces looked unworn and like a prop so we didn’t ask even to pose on it.  This would prove to be a mistake as, apparently, had we bought an “I was punished” t-shirt, we’d have been entitled to a go on the machine.   Ah well, got to save something for next time.

We couldn’t linger because we had meet Dr. Dan (remember, shared cab) to be back for the suite party / demo Northern Spanking was hosting. Niki was going to be in the demo, but only as the crime “victim” as she wasn’t planning on playing this weekend and she warned me that the suites were smaller than at the SunCoast so arriving early would be important. Even though crowds are sometimes a problem for me, I very much wanted to watch so I could see the NS girls in their uniforms.

On the way out the four of us (Dan, Bailey, Niki and me) were so caught up in our happy chatter and in such a hurry to get back that we basically threw ourselves into a taxi van, talking at full volume.  As we pulled out, the driver pointed out a MASSIVE queue of people we’d somehow missed and, in our oblivious state, had jumped ahead of.  We were mortified, especially when the driver told us that she’d been trying to hold the door closed to keep us out.

Oh the shame of it all.

Still, it did mean we got back to the hotel right on schedule.  This was where and when I found out I wouldn’t just be *witnessing* the NS scene…. (to be continued).