The photo heading this blog is quite poignant. It feels like this artistic take on my bruises by Mia Macauley , sitting on my bedroom shelf, is the closest I’ll get to having any at all any time soon.

I’ve not had a beating since the 7th March.  That’s 5 months ago. Since I came on the scene 4 and a bit years ago I think the longest time between beatings I’ve gone is the 3 months after my Dad died.

That time, it was my choice. I didn’t have the desire for pain play most of that time and when I did think about being beaten, it would cause me panic because I didn’t know if I might burst into tears within moments. The break was taken because I wanted and needed it and I got back to beatings when I wanted to.

This pandemic enforced drought is very different and I don’t like it one bit.  I’ve recently discussed my control freak nature in connection with kink and this is another connection of that. I love my BDSM life because ultimately I’m in control of when I want to lose control.  I pick the time, the people and have a big say in what’s going to happen within the scene too.

I’ve lost all control of that. There are no events, there’s no meeting people from outside my household, hell, there’s not even hugs let alone spankings and sex.  It’s getting to me.

At first, I was sad of course I was but I had marks that lingered for a while and the hope that after a few months maybe I’d be able to go back to it.  After a month or so I got to a point where I didn’t even want to think about kink any more. Which is nigh on impossible doing my job. However, I separated from my personal kink by not checking fetlife (I’m still not) and I stepped back from reading other sex bloggers content and even pulled away from fantasising and wanking.

It was hard to write my freelance articles but I plodded through. I think you can see the change on my blog too. There were more random recipes and opinion pieces and far less kinky fuckery. It was painful to accept I wouldn’t be getting the beatings I wanted for a very, very long time.  So I blocked it out.

Apart from the occasional pining brought on by watching violence on TV, I pushed it deep down and locked it away because I didn’t know what to do.

Then came hope.

The plan to visit Palantilin and his girlfriend in their new home. They’d both being caring for shielded people before moving in together. The chance of me catching anything from them was so low. That it didn’t take too much convincing for me to agree to go stay with them once they were settled in.

I felt the pull of pre-beating excitement almost straight away. I started to think about the items of kit I’d take for them to use on me, I imagined the beauty of marks on my skin, the contentment of aches in my body. I started to fantasise again.

I suppose it’s not a coincidence that as I imagined the reopening of my kink life I found myself chatting to a new, exciting human who rapidly became a sexting partner. We are planning to meet up when we can and are enjoying getting to know each other a bit digitally first.

And as I take more images of my body and I think of more sexy, kinky scenarios I’m writing about it more too. I’ve gotten a couple more sexting partners in the last few weeks and I am more connected to my sexuality and kinks now than I’ve been since I started shielding back in the middle of March.


Glorious, wonderful, exciting, right?

Yes, until last Thursday evening on TWITTER Matt Hancock announced changes to social distancing measures in my home area of Greater Manchester. In essence, it’s lockdown as you can no longer mingle with another household inside your home or outside in your garden.

But you can still go to pubs and restaurants and work.

My plans all crumbled and I’m back to not knowing but longing and needing and wanting.

And not knowing what to do with that.

I always like to leave my writings on a note of hope, however dark it might have gotten.  Well, my hope is battered and bruised and weighted down at the moment. So I’m not sure I can.

If anything I feel a bit guilty for using all these words just to whine that I’m not being spanked.

But if you’re reading this and nodding along, my heart goes out to you. I’m sorry I haven’t got anything uplifting to end on but I understand. It’s frustrating and hard.

I hope we’ll get the spankings we all deserve soon!

And I don’t know about anyone else but by God, am I going to enjoy my spankings once I can have them again. I’m going to take every (safe) opportunity and go for it!