Heartie Day and Spankings (Video)!

Hearties and flowers and spankings, oh my!

I hope everyone had a nice Valentine's Day! As some know well, I am a big fan of hearties and chocolate, so naturally Heartie Day is one of the best holidays ever. Besides, I've always enjoyed celebrating how much love there is in my life, and it gives me an excuse!

YS and I both got to work from home on Friday, so we had the entire day to be together. We got to cuddle in the morning, and he presented me with a new pair of pretty BedHead pajamas, which I decided I would wear for the rest of the day. We exchanged gifts, wandered downstairs, and he had a bouquet of 2 dozen pink roses along with a box of chocolate waiting for me. I promptly got into the box of chocolate. I'm telling you, breakfast chocolate is highly underrated!

YS is really good at Valentine's day. He can pull it off like nobody I've ever known, but I'm pretty sure I know why. When we were 18, celebrating our first Valentine's day together, I went all out, and he kinda dropped the ball. He arrived to an 18 year old ellee wrapped in a thin strand of ribbon that had hearties dangling from it. I'd also baked him a heart shaped red velvet cake from scratch and stood nearly naked beside it with a smile. He was floored by the effort I put into the day, and he felt like a jerk for having nothing planned for me. Ever since then, I've been treated to the most wonderful Valentine's celebrations. He thinks about it months in advance, and he's always just perfect.

That evening, he informed me of our dinner plans and when we had to be there. I donned one of my new pairs of panties for the occasion and curled my hair. Of course no heartie day is complete without a spanking! We enjoyed a bottle of champagne, I selected a heart shaped paddle, and we set up the video camera so we could share the fun! Oh, and I'm wearing the pajama top he got me cause it's the snuggliest!


After that, we finished dressing and went out to eat at a nice new restaurant in town that ended up being fantastic. He surprised me with a pretty necklace while we were waiting for the main course to arrive, and I immediately put it on. He does that frequently, and yet it always takes me by surprise!

Following dinner, we were still feeling pretty frisky, and I did get 2 new pairs of vday panties, so we ended up making a second video!

"Who Does Your Bottom Belong To?"

Paddled

Last weekend, I visited Malignus in South Dakota. We had a wonderful time. I arrived Friday evening and stayed through Monday afternoon, so I've got lots of stories to share. One of my favorite moments happened on Sunday after we returned home from watching the Superbowl. I put away the groceries as he settled in and queued up a movie. I set his steak out on the counter so it could reach room temperature before going in the skillet, and then I plopped down next to him on the couch.

"Come with me," he said as he stood up and walked into the bedroom.

I followed along behind him, my eyes darting around the room for a hint at what was happening. On the bed lay the small paddle that thekillingtype made Malignus for his birthday. It's made of bloodwood, which is a really dense, beautiful wood. The paddle itself is thick. It also hurts an entire lot of a bunch! Like, really a lot. It's an intimidating implement, and probably one of the most perfect gifts for him ever!

He sat down on the bed and waited for me to put myself over his lap. Instead I came around to his left side, sat down, and began to wrap my arms and legs around him. Giggling, clinging, and pleading desperately for urgent hugs, I attempted to delay the inevitable. Soon enough, however, I found myself face down, bottom up, and waiting for the first stroke to land on my bare skin. When it did, the squirming and whining renewed.

The truth is, I find it really difficult to submit to a hard spanking that happens when I'm not mentally prepared for it. As much as I want to submit at times like these, it doesn't always come so easily when I haven't worked myself up to a receptive headspace. I often get feedback from readers who praise me for being so submissive, or who marvel at how well I take a spanking in a video. As much as I love hearing these compliments, I sometimes feel as though I'm misleading them or propagating the false perception that I'm always ready to passively accept the will of my dominant. In reality, I'm not. I'm like any other spanko submissive. My pain tolerance fluctuates with my hormones, and my desire to submit to a hard spanking is quite dependent upon my mood and current perspective.

When I recount stories of particularly intense scenes or post videos of me cooing and laughing through a marvelously brutal spanking, I'm only sharing a snippet of what it took to get me there emotionally. Sometimes it takes hours of hoping I'll get that really good spanking at the end of the day. At times, it's the minutes to days of anticipation after a threat has been made. Occasionally it's achieved by a nice handspanking that warms me up physically and mentally. If you've ever seen me at a party, you probably know the joyful ellee who floats from lap to lap basking in my favorite activity. If you've seen me engage in harder play at one of these events, you can be sure it's because I've worked myself into a state where that's precisely what I crave. You see, it's all quite relative.

Malignus is one of the few people I do choose to play more intensely with, and that's because he knows my reactions, my limits, my expectations. I trust him.   As he brought the paddle down over and over again, I tried to make my brain calm down and relax, but I wasn't making much progress. I was able to keep my hands in front of me, but each smack sent a painful wave of shocking ouchiness though my body and caused my hips to twist away. He held me in place and kept the pace tolerable, but he could tell I was struggling. The swats to my upper thighs nearly sent me into a panic, and I was growing frustrated with myself.

"I'm sorry!" I declared. "I'm trying! I don't know why I can't," I babbled into the mattress as the paddle landed yet again on my tender bottom. He let me battle with myself a bit longer before coming to my rescue.

"Who does your bottom belong to?" he asked.

"You, Sir," I replied, and then everything changed. It was that simple. Suddenly the sting wasn't quite as jolting and my body stopped fighting. I relaxed over his lap and pushed my bottom up to offer him an eager target. Quite simply, it stopped being unpleasant.

"Good girl," he said in a tone that radiated pride and made it quite clear that he was pleased with me. I smiled through the rest of the spanking and was a puddle of happy by the time he set the paddle down and began the cool-down hand-spanking. The weight of his left arm on my back make me feel secure, and I was in a very good place when he eventually stopped and pulled me into his arms for cuddles.

"Thank you, Sir," I said in that slurred sort of dopey way I do when I'm coming back from subspace. After a moment, I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked at him curiously. "Did you stop spanking me as hard once I gave in?" I asked, convinced it had to be the case.

"No," he assured me with a chuckle. "I spanked you every bit as hard." I must have looked puzzled because he then went on to explain what he believed accounted for my sudden shift in perspective. Essentially, my initial resistance was in response to an unexpectedly painful experience that triggered concern for maintaining the integrity of my body. That innate sense of self-preservation can be a powerful stimulus, and fear makes everything hurt so much more.

He took that fear away. He reminded me that my bottom belonged to him, so it was his responsibility to worry and not my own. Once freed of that burden, the spanking truly didn't hurt as much. I'm still astounded that this significant a change could occur in a matter of seconds, but it did, and it was really nice.

I changed into my pajamas and we settled in to enjoy the remainder of our evening. For the rest of the night, I possessed a wonderful sense of contentment that comes from feeling loved and grateful and fulfilled. It's a really good sort of happy. :)

The Next To Last Stroke

A few hours after my arrival in SD...

Last weekend I traveled to South Dakota to visit Malignus. I arrived on Friday around 9pm at the tiny airport in Sioux City, Iowa. As soon as I landed, I checked my phone for a weather update. Whew! It was only in the teens!

On the flight there, I sat next to an 18 year old marine. He shook his head at me when I ordered a drink, telling me he didn't believe I was old enough to purchase alcohol and questioning me about my age. He'd just finished with basic training and was returning home before being deployed. He made me smile and feel pretty. :)

Once on the ground, I called Malignus to let him know I'd arrived. Within a few minutes, he was standing in front of me looking particularly deprived of elleehugs. I pounced him, and we headed out the only exit to the entire airport. He carried my bag to his car, and we were on our way!

I always savor the drive from the airport. It's so full of hope and potential and excitement. There's really nothing like it. It's my favorite part of every trip, even though the best is yet to come. Perhaps it's because the best is yet to come, and that's one of the greatest feelings ever.

On the drive home, we caught up, and he listened to me babble incessantly about this and that and all things ellee. We picked up a pizza, plenty of heart shaped chocolate, and enough supplies to last us through breakfast the next morning. Once back in his apartment, I began to unpack my things when suddenly my ears perked up to the sound of running water. It continued for a few minutes and then stopped.

Soon he appeared and told me to take off my shoes and socks. "We're going on a romantic barefoot walk through the snow covered parking lot," he explained. "Just to the dumpster and back," he assured me. "You can hold my hand." I pleaded with him to wait until I'd warmed up, but he was firm, and eventually I bared my feet and followed him outside. He told me I could run ahead, but I much preferred holding his hand and clung to him the entire time. The ground was cold, and it stung. I tried walking on my heels, then my toes, then my heels again, yet still it hurt. My only comfort was in his smile, and the twisted notion that this would be fun to blog about. :P

Once back inside, he led me to the bathtub, where I soaked my feet and warmed up again, content in my own good-girlishness. I dried off and made my way into the bedroom where he was waiting for me. It had been a couple of hours since I'd landed, you see, and it was time for spanking (hooray!).

I happily went over his lap and felt my yoga pants and panties lowered down to my knees. He produced a REALLY serious looking paddle that I'll detail in a later post and proceeded to warm me up quite vigorously. Despite my best efforts, I flailed and squirmed and wiggled until he pinned my right arm to my lower back and reassuringly squeezed my hand in his own. I finally accepted my situation and stopped fighting, only to find myself facing yet another challenge.

During my last visit with Malignus in October, we'd broken THREE canes! To replace them, I'd gotten him a rattan cane and a delrin cane for Christmas. In all honesty, the delrin cane was purchased because I have no sense of self preservation around this man, and the rattan cane was meant to provide me with some measure of relief. After all, he couldn't *only* use the delrin, right? Right?!

Behold The Broken Rattan Cane!

He positioned me over the side of the bed and began with the delrin. "Six strokes," he proclaimed, and I squeaked through each and every one of them. Panting with relief, I looked up at him for some sign that it was over and I could collect my cuddles. Instead he picked up the rattan cane and declared that it too needed to see some use. I would receive another six, and I braced myself as the first cut landed. I focused on my breathing and tried to keep my kicking and rolling around to a minimum. Finally, the 5th stroke landed, and I sucked in a lungful of air. It escaped with a trill, and I sang my ouches for a few moments before noticing the stillness in the room. I turned around and caught a look of displeasure in his eye just before he nodded toward the cane, which had split in half and splintered at the end.  AHA! Ellee wins! Cane loses!

...leaving only the delrin cane, to continue being super bendy and ouchie and unbreakable. Harumph.

After taking pictures (as shown above) of my bottom and the demolished cane, we cozied up with pizza and a movie and then snuggled and talked into the wee hours of the morning.

We spent the next day being domestic and making a big yummy breakfast. We watched the cutest movie ever (It's called Up! Watch it! It's adorable!) and then headed out to meet ironxrose to do some shopping for Malignus. Despite not allowing me to wear a coat into the store, he let me wear his jacket back to the car and took an extra set of keys so he could leave the engine running and return me to a warm, toasty vehicle. So. Much. Love.

Once home again, I started dinner while he queued up Avatar. I've seen the movie before, but I managed to sleep through about 75% of it the first time, so Malignus began to lecture me about paying better attention to movies that had done as well as Avatar in the box office. Instead of being agreeable, I was quick to point out that Justin Bieber had also done pretty well in the box office. I was promptly escorted to the bedroom for a good solid six of the cane, which left me rubbing my bottom and wondering where I'd left my good sense. Apparently I'd left it back on the east coast, because in no more than a few minutes, I'd repeated my mistake.

I unsuccessfully tried to talk my way back out of the mess I'd made while he reproduced the dreadful delrin cane and pointed to the bed. I put myself in position and waited for my sentence. "Twelve," he declared, since I hadn't learned the first time.

Caned again!

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't exactly argue with that, so I did my best to suffer through the strokes with some measure of dignity. I'm not sure how well I held out, but I was nearly frantic by the time the 11th made contact with my sit spot. As if to celebrate the next to last stroke, a sudden gush of water flowed from the wall and was followed by a plume of steam that filled the room. He paused, looked at me, and took in the situation for a moment before bringing the cane down hard on the center of my bottom to round out an even 12. I squealed into the mattress for a moment before recovering myself and declaring a quick "thankyouSir!" so I could join in the investigation.

We soon discovered that a pipe had broken in the bedroom, flooding the carpet and requiring the services of a plumber well into the night. We scrambled to hide the implements, and I eased a pair of soft pajama pants over the welts that decorated my skin. I watched Avatar in his arms while the plumber sloshed around and fixed the broken parts. All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, but I do think there's a lesson to be learned!

First a broken cane, then a broken pipe, and both on the next to last stroke! If you ask me, I'd say it's probably less expensive to stick with the nice leather implements and leave those destructive canes under the bed! ;)