The Secret Diary of Janey Jones

My thinking needs new brake shoes. My mind squeals and my heart grinds. The master cylinder is right in front of my seat, but I don’t know how to attach my pedal. I am slamming on the brakes but nothing ever stops. It is metal on metal, and I am burning up the road of life at high speeds.

The system is fucked. There is air in the line, or I am just the wrong part. I don’t have to be the pedal. He can be the master cylinder that multiplies the force of feeling, sending it to me through this system of lines, fluid and pressure. I will be the slave cylinder.

I am ripping the car apart again, and I am throwing wrenches.
 
I’d like to thank the academy, and the outstanding eyes of those who read me!

I got spanked in a carefully choreographed clip. I was the leading lady on the set of a fantasy.

I rehearsed in my mind and then forgot my line! This actor put me over his knee and said: You are a very bad girl, aren’t you?

Like a cheap inexperienced starlet on a new set, laughter erupted from my belly and no words would come out.

My mind whispered: Am I supposed to say something? I forgot. I forgot my line.

The actor wanted an answer, but I forgot the question already. He spanked me harder.

My mind whispered: Who is this man? I don’t have any attraction to him at all. There is no emotional conviction. I said yes because his fingernails are short and clean. I am here for the spank. I should stop whisper thinking.

It didn’t hurt. I don’t think he could have spanked me any harder. I still tried to shift away from his predictable timely whacks. My brain figured out the hand:bottom algorithim quickly. Did I want it to hurt?

My mind whispered: I think you need to use your belt strap for this to be effective. I’d stop this ridiculous laughter right away.

I didn’t say anything; I already ruined the show by giggling. I’d be hooked off the stage if I started telling him what to do. I buried my face in my arms to hide my smiling.

It was staged, and I am ok with that.
 
It didn’t hurt. I don’t think he could have spanked me any harder. I still tried to shift away from his predictable timely whacks. My brain figured out the hand:bottom algorithim quickly. Did I want it to hurt?

My mind whispered: I think you need to use your belt strap for this to be effective. I’d stop this ridiculous laughter right away.

I didn’t say anything; I already ruined the show by giggling. I’d be hooked off the stage if I started telling him what to do. I buried my face in my arms to hide my smiling.

It was staged, and I am ok with that.

He obviously didn't know what he was doing.
 
.... It didn’t hurt. I don’t think he could have spanked me any harder. I still tried to shift away from his predictable timely whacks. My brain figured out the hand:bottom algorithim quickly. Did I want it to hurt?

My mind whispered: I think you need to use your belt strap for this to be effective. I’d stop this ridiculous laughter right away.

I didn’t say anything; I already ruined the show by giggling. I’d be hooked off the stage if I started telling him what to do. I buried my face in my arms to hide my smiling.

It was staged, and I am ok with that.

He obviously didn't know what he was doing.

I most certainly did not know what was going on!
~Ms.Giggle
I have to agree with BM: He didn't know what he was doing.

Hand spanking generally is nothing (or little) more than a warm-up for flogger, paddle, crop or cane, with rare exceptions. An experienced spanker, however, can make almost anyone admit that it hurts. The incidence of pain in a hand spanking depends on the angle of the stroke as much or more than the actual force, and placement is crucial. Too bad you're so far away; I'd be happy to demonstrate ;)
 
I have to agree with BM: He didn't know what he was doing.

Hand spanking generally is nothing (or little) more than a warm-up for flogger, paddle, crop or cane, with rare exceptions. An experienced spanker, however, can make almost anyone admit that it hurts. The incidence of pain in a hand spanking depends on the angle of the stroke as much or more than the actual force, and placement is crucial. Too bad you're so far away; I'd be happy to demonstrate ;)

Too bad I am far away! I am from deep space, I come in peace. :rose:

It might be that without the desire/attraction/respect for the man, the hand spank will always be painless.
 
Pain is such a precious gift when it can not be taken and has to be given and accepted.

I don't know that "fixed that for you" is apropos here. Perhaps the more appropriate comment would be, "Does this expand your thought?"

Are you suggesting that a gift that is not accepted is no longer considered a gift? My thoughts? Hmmm...

Ultimately I think a real gift is one given freely without rules or expectations which means that it is completely surrendered to the recipient to be treasured, ignored, or even thrown away. Regardless of its ultimate fate though, it is still a gift. Something given with expectation of an exchange is not a gift, it is a sort of purchase (with less conventional currency sure), but a purchase nonetheless.

For example...I believe that a relationship is purchased in the exchange of conditions, compromises, and expectations, but real love can only be given as a gift, and if it is given freely, it is eternal because nothing can really change it. It just is.
 
Are you suggesting that a gift that is not accepted is no longer considered a gift? My thoughts? Hmmm...

Ultimately I think a real gift is one given freely without rules or expectations which means that it is completely surrendered to the recipient to be treasured, ignored, or even thrown away. Regardless of its ultimate fate though, it is still a gift. Something given with expectation of an exchange is not a gift, it is a sort of purchase (with less conventional currency sure), but a purchase nonetheless.

For example...I believe that a relationship is purchased in the exchange of conditions, compromises, and expectations, but real love can only be given as a gift, and if it is given freely, it is eternal because nothing can really change it. It just is.
I'd like to gift wrap my heart and give it away on a plate of unconditional love-type emotion.
 
I went out to lunch with a man. We started talking about sex. He said what turns him on in bed is the look of the girls face during intercourse when she is pleasured.

I told him that I preferred a brown bag over my head during intercourse. I also said, that if it would turn him on I’d paint a picture of my O face on the bag.
 
I wanted my heart in a cage, then I realized it is already in a rib-cage.
Like a trapped bird it flutters wildly, desperate to escape.
 
Fuck woman, check out your body!

Smocking hot. What do I have to do to get you right here.
 
Fuck woman, check out your body!

Smocking hot. What do I have to do to get you right here.
The answer to that question would normally be answered in a dark and violent way, but I am trying to be careful. I heard there are sociopaths out there in the world. :confused:
 
I wanted my heart in a cage, then I realized it is already in a rib-cage.
Like a trapped bird it flutters wildly, desperate to escape.

You know I have often pondered about the caged bird that sings such tender sweet songs. Maybe she is the only one that is actually free, and from her perspective the rest of the world lives behind bars and she sings to us to comfort us as we suffer our captured fate.

So maybe your heart flutters wildly as it strains to comfort you until it can actually set you free?
 
The answer to that question would normally be answered in a dark and violent way, but I am trying to be careful. I heard there are sociopaths out there in the world. :confused:

Yea but if you don't behave all you get to bang is prison dudes. Empathy ain't the only motivator around. :D
 
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