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Friday, January 16, 2004

Since it has been nearly a week since I've written anything here, I'm sure you're all thinking that Danevah must have some serious consequences to face.

While I will certainly be spanked, just on principle if nothing else, I will not have to bear what I might have otherwise because both of us think there is a Very Good Reason for me to have been rather busy for the past week or so.

My parents (henceforth known as the Rents both to abbreviate and because I am here right now because the rents is free...) have decided to adopt a formally Anti-Jack position. There have been summit meetings and memos and all manner of policy established on the matter, all conveniently while I was away so that as soon as they had everything in order they held a press conference (well, called me into the living room for a chat) and announced their new anti-jack campaign.

I am trying, very hard, to understand this position and the reason it has come into being. Jack is almost a decade older than I am, so I can see how some anxiety would arise. Jack is also currently without a job, which worries the traditional, man-must-provide instinct both of them possess. These I can understand as typical parent-y concerns, and while they'll still annoy the hell out of me, I could deal with them.

What I cannot deal with is the ridiculous stuff. They don't think Jack's 'image' suits me. They're rather wealthy, social-appearance conscious people and don't think the house/car/clothes of my mate are worthy, apparently. They also attacked Jack's character, ascribing negative traits to him that don't exist. All of this was quite enough to put me right over the edge and consider 1) napalm, or 2) going on welfare and moving out.

Jack has been my anchor, as always, reminding me of option 3) wait out the last few months until I am accepted to grad school and can move to a province far, far away. I had been trying *not* to think of that time at all, as it means moving a 2-hour drive away from Jack for anywhere from a couple of month to 2 years (depending on if he can get a job and come with me). So looking forward to that and concentrating on my applications has had the unhappy side effect of reminding me of my coming departure, and triggered a panic attack.

So Danevah has been a bit of a wreck. Hopefully things will settle soon and I can stop freaking out and bonking off the walls long enough to become human again.

Saturday, January 10, 2004

My new Year's resolution that Jack is helping me with: blog here every day, even if it is just one line, or face "the consequences."

I have no idea what my fate will be if I fail to post, but it was delivered in a voice that made even my brattiest self swallow hard and suggest it was a rather good idea to obey this time.

Today I am still recovering. Pillows are still necessary for comfortable sitting, and my bruises are coming in nicely. Bruises are kind of like old fashioned photographs: they develop over time. I don't think mine will have fully 'set' until tomorrow or the next day. Today, I discovered that several of the long strap marks I had thought were surface welts have left faint yellowing trace bruises. I find them extremely attractive.

The severity of this experience has taught be a bit about what a painslut I really am. I am absolutely loving it. Jack had a hard time with it at first, this being the most extreme experience we've ever had together, and because of this show of vulnerability yesterday I think he wanted to assert his dominance again today. Despite my current marked state, I found myself bent over a chair while he "touched up" the work he'd done the day before. Mostly gentle, lightly stingy swats with his hand, and a few harder belt strokes to make his point.

I hollered. It hurt like hell. I was also practically purring the whole time, and have been in a state of absolute contentment ever since.

I'm such a hungry sub.
It's about damn time, eh?

The Christmas holidays were as lovely as they could have been, but also probably the most stressful I have ever been through. My family, for all it's dysfunctional glory, managed to retain it's bizarro charm without any nuclear wars starting. I Got lots of good loot, saw Jack a lot and got to visit with many friends.

So why, you ask, has my stress level been through the roof?

I am applying for grad school. In additions to hating the bureaucratic bullshit that is the application process with the fire of a thousand suns, I am absolutely scared to death about getting in where I want to. I have been working my ass off for the past four years, paying my dues as an undergrad doing all the grunt work and scrounging up all the references I could, in addition to keeping some pretty damn good grades up. This is the big enchilada, folks. If I don't get in with money where I want to go, I haven't the foggiest idea what I am going to do with my life.

Hence, Danevah has been a ball of pure stress for weeks now.

Yesterday the fedex man came and took my application away. After agonizing over it for weeks, the thing was actually done. There is nothing more that I can possibly do to fix it up or amend it. It's done. All I can do it wait until I get a response in the spring.

As soon as the fedex man left, I started cooking. Keeping busy kept me from having a meltdown for a few hours. But after a while there was nothing left to scrub or tidy, nothing to keep my brain from avoiding the gut-wrenching feeling of fear. My future is uncertain, and there is NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT.

Jack was working on his computer, burning a CD for me. I perched, completely tense, on the edge of his bed. After a while he turned to me.

"How are you doing?"

"I don't feel well."

Without a word he came over, helped me out of my clothes and made me lie face down on the bed. He opened a bottle of the massage oil for Christmas, poured it over my back and started to knead.

I carry stress in my muscles. I'm sure my back felt like a mass of steel columns when he started, but somehow, after much whimpering and sighing and hard work, I was on the mend. I could move without felling like my back was full of ground glass, and I was paying attention to my body instead of my worries.

A hand crept up between my legs and my body jerked away. I was shocked at how negative my reaction was.

"What is it?"

"It doesn't feel right."

"Stress?"

"Yes."

"What do you need?"

"To cry, I think." There was a catch in my voice. I could feel all the destructive emotion he'd worked out of my muscles welling into my stomach and throat. My face felt sour with tears, but I knew they wouldn't come.

"Let it out then, baby."

"I can't."

He'd been gently rubbing my lower back. He quickly sat up, drew back his hand, and swatted my ass.

I have never before been spanked on an oiled bottom. Holy God, was I hypersensitive. Never before was the sensation so intense. This coupled with my aforementioned state of extreme emotional toxicity made for a shocking combination of outrage, fear, and delight.

After a few more relatively gentle spanks, he paused. I fear such pauses more than anything else. It means he's gotten an idea. I kept my head down, buried in a pillow, stretch out on the bed and scared out of my wits.

"Are you okay, baby?" His voice was so gentle. I wanted to cry and couldn't.

"No. I need this."

"Let me know when you've had enough."

I nodded.

I head the jingle of a buckle now as he doubled over the belt. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I have never before been whipped like that. He started out much more gently than usual, sticking to the most padded parts of my bottom, love taps with just enough snap to sting. Somehow, over what seemed like hours of spanking, he progressed to nearly full-strength, standing leverage strokes that made me scream. He began to concentrate of the most sensitive places on my lower bottom and thighs, the outside of my hips, even a few strokes over my shoulder blades. He usually spanks slow, giving me a chance to catch my breath between hard swats or sets, but this time was just a constant barrage of pain. The leather started to feel like fire.

Finally, whatever mental barrier I had put up finally collapsed. I started to cry. It felt better than I can describe. He nearly stopped, and I managed to gasp to keep going, I needed whatever all of the stress completely spanked out of me. He obliged.

Eventually, I wasn't even feeling individual strokes. I was completely limp, sobbing my heart out, not even managing so much as a flinch to the hardest strokes. He stopped, actually threw the belt aside (he told me later he had gone beyond what was his own limit and just couldn't bare to keep going), crawled over to the bed next to me and held me until I calmed down. Once I was cuddled to a very happy, if extraordinarily sore, girl, he helped me downstairs and into a hot shower.

After very carefully helping me wash and dry myself, I was carried upstairs, dressed in my comfiest pajamas, and tucked into bed. He held me until I fell asleep, which despite the pain in my ass took mere minutes (amazing for a borderline insomniac).

Today, I feel fantastic. If I was anyone else, I'd say I was in a ridiculous amount of pain. My lower bottom and upper thighs are pretty well one massive bruise. I can barely sit. From hips to knees I am still displaying the most lovely set of stripes and ghost welts.

I am the luckiest woman in the world.

Thursday, December 25, 2003

Merry Christmas, Kinksters!

I'll be back early in the new year...in the meantime, may your holidays be red hot!

Love, Danevah

Thursday, December 04, 2003

Jack and I are trying something new.

I am quite the baby when I am being spanked. For someone who ultimately enjoys and revels in it as much as I do, I wiggle and sob and cry out like someone was trying to kill me. Part of it is just a mental release thing: I am letting go of everything while I am bent over Jack's lap, and the most natural and cleasingly thing for me to do is yelp and cry and kick.

Jack decided recently thast he's like me to learn to be quiter. Not silent, which both of us agree wouldn't be natural, but to teach my body to find it's release in...other ways.

When he touches my clit directly, lightly rubs the pad of a finger over that naked bundle of nerves, I have a certain kind iof involuntary shudder that I do. He loves it. He decided that there was no reason I couldn't have a similar pleasurable reaction while being spanked.

Today we started training my body a little bit. I had my legs spread and back arched while I was on all fours on the bed, as open and vulnerable a position as I could manage. Using the leather paddle I hate/love so much, he would swat me and immediately after, would toucvh my clit. Just a gentle little rubm enough to bring on the shudder. After a while, he tried spanking me a few times without the little shudder-rub, and lo and behold my body remembered and I moed the same way anyway.

My body was then rewarded for having such a good memory...

Tuesday, November 25, 2003

It was freezing up here in Canadia today. I broke out my giant silver marshmallow of a winter coat, sighed a final goodbye to any hope of unseasonable warmth coming back, and have hooked myself up to an IV drip of hot chocolate for the next few months.

I arrived at Jack's place a little after noon -- my class ran late. He was scowling at his computer monitor, punching the keys in staccato frustration as he attempted to delete a friendly little virus paying a visit to his hard drive. From his expression, and the length of time it took him to purge the bug from his box, sank all my hopes of any kind of gentle treatment this afternoon.

He finally swivelled around in his chair to look at me, steepled his hands and regarded me thoughtfully.

"Get undressed."

I hopped to my feet, discarded all offending garments, and stood by the bed with my head down and my hands at my sides.

He looked at me for a full minute or two longer. The he rose slowly, ambled over, and sat on the bed. The new leather paddle had already been laid out on the bed. He picked it up, hefted it gently, considered it's balance and weight., studying the implement with a cool, deliberate academic *slowness* that had be trembling before he even touched me.

When it comes to don/sub headgames, the boy has a Ph.D.

He gently placed one hand on my back and guided me over his lap. I stretched out over his knees, arching my back and keeping my bottom high and vulnerable like he'd taught me. He pressed down, nudging me to relax, so I was just lying across his lap instead of in a proper position. He rubbed my back and bottom, trailed his fingers over the backs of my legs, helping me relax and also making me more tense and frightened inside with each gentle touch.

The first time I felt the paddle's stiff black leather against my ass, it was a gentle, caressing pat.

I started to cry.

He gave a slight, satisfied sound, lifted his arm and started to spank.

It was a relatively mild spanking, particularly compared to some of our session with the crop and his belt when I've been particularly mullish or difficult. But there was something about the exact combination of stiffness and give on the five-inch-wide piece of leather, the weight and the impact that just broke me. I lay over his lap and sobbed. My ass was just a sweet rosy pink when he stopped, pulled me into his arms and held me. Some wonderful, warm, rather wet and giggly lovemaking followed as soon as I swallowed my tears.

Despite being such an absolute wuss the first time this paddle was used on me, I think this might become one of my favourite implements of all time. There is something about the pain (and believe me, this sucker *hurts*) that is exactly the right kind of good pain. It feels absolutely delicious, especially in my head. The psychological impact is exhilarating.

It was so amazing a feeling, in fact, that I seem to have been unable to refrain from touching myself since I left Jack's place. I've come three times without him.

Something tells me he's not going to be pleased about that.

hee.

Monday, November 24, 2003

Sigh.

Nope. Didn't happen.

This weekend was probably one of the tamest we'd had since the beginning of our relationship. THis was the last weekend that the musical Jack has a lead in was running, and after 4 shows in a row, cast parties every night, and visiting friends and relatives to entertain, we were both (but particularly Jack) completely and utterly exhausted.

The only chance we had to get frisky at all was after 2 on Friday. We both looked at eachother, tore our clothes off, hopped into bed and were snoring in 20 seconds flat. For two people as ridiculously horny as we are (who don't live together either! *whine*) this was truly a remarkable event.

Things are looking up for our poor, neglected Danevah, however. The paddle I'd prdered a couple of weeks ago arrived today in a neat, discreet little parcel with 'leather crafts' written on the front. That made me giggle. Alway a fan of early Christmas presents, I immediately unwrapped it, and squealed.

This implement genuinely frightens me. I called Jack immediately, quite 'horrified,' and described the scary (and wonderfully finely crafted=)) piece of leather. He dialed the gravel and the silk into his voice and chuckled.

"So when do i get to see you?" he asked.

I swallowed. "Tomorrow, for a few hours."

"Good. I do hope you don't have anything very important to do in the afternoon."

"I have a presentation to give."

"That's a shame. I just wait to try out my new toy..."

When I ordered this paddle, i had kind of hoped it would be *my* implement -- something used on me when I was good, something I'd like more than the crop.

I'm thinking now I may have just placed another object in Jack's hand that does not bode well for my backside in any way.

Pray for me, and hope I remember to be a Very Good Submissive indeed. =)

Thursday, November 20, 2003

Sorry for that brief bit of downtime, everyone...a friend of mine made a comment or two that mad me terrified into thinking he'd found this blog, and so I rather quickly hid it for a little while. Turns out, he was just a smart ass. *sighs* I do hope he has someone to put him over their knee for such behavior...

There is a big event coming up in the sexual life of Young Danevah: this weekend, Jack and I will be trying anal sex for the first time. We did some shopping and picked up some lube and a few other little romantic accoutrements to help celebrate the event.

Over at Sweetness Follows... Mike and Michelle have a wonderfully hilarious and loving first-time-going-anal kind of story...I'm not sure whether I want their luck or not. One way or the other, I'll have some serious kind of interesting material to share with you lovely kinksters in the next few days. Wish me luck, it's time for my last shred of virginity to be obliterated. I can't wait. =)

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