Things I Like Being Hit With

Hands - as spanking, obviously, not someone taking a swing at me. A
good slap on the arse or the thighs isn't going to do you any harm,
and there's something beautifully degrading about it.

Riding crop - gently gently, but I do enjoy the sensation, the noise,
and the look of my partner of choice holding one of these.

Tailed whip/flogger - my tolerance for these is surprisingly high, and
I find used softly or striking with further up the body rather than
the tails, the 'thud' rather than the sting is quite pleasing. Can
also be safely used on the back/shoulders - a good place for me.

Improvised items - If you're being particularly cheeky and your master
has to grab the nearest book/hairbrush/ruler/whatever to give you a
smack with, you had that coming.

and

Paddle - I actually genuinely don't like this feeling, which is why
it's great. There's no 'mmm' to the 'ouch': it just hurts. So if I've
really been bad and you want me to scream, cry, beg you to stop,
there's your weapon.

This is all very "oh please, don't throw me into the briar patch," isn't it? Is that why I liked Bra'er Rabbit so much?!

Epic Vibe Fail.

Browsing around the other day, it came to my attention that I'd never seen a sex blog without a toy review. Well then, this will be quick and relatively painless, as I own a grand total of one sex toy.

Yep.

It's my own fault, because I did it all backwards, as I tend do. I thought I knew everything - another one of my more annoying tendencies and went blundering in to somewhere, I suppose it was an Ann Summers, and bought my first vibrator before I was even legal.

I'd not even learned my body yet, didn't really know how to get myself off... I sort of thought I'd had orgasms, in the way you can only sort of think these things when you haven't, and was under the impression (blame Cosmopolitan) that this buzzy pink thing would be getting the job done.

Of course it bloody didn't. It turns out intense vibration does absolutely nothing for me, and the poor bastard thing was trying its best but it's too big, solid-hard, not something I'd even consider insertable these days but oh, I tried, because in my head that was what you did. No joy, really.

I've tried more than a handful of times since... and nothing happens. And it's not that I don't know how to press the buttons... just with my hands, I do fine. More than fine. There are times I'd quite like to buy my hands flowers and chocolates and take them out for dinner and a movie, maybe, and back to mine for the ever euphemstic coffee. But the vibe? Nope, lives in a shoebox in my wardrobe and I'm having to TRY not to leave it behind when I move out.

On the subject of moving out, here is where my sex toy education will come in. It's impossible to get that illicit, experimental thrill when you live with your grandparents. It has to be planned out way in advance, scheduled, hidden. Nothing sexy about that. Out on my own, on the other hand... well, living with my ex-Ann-Summers-Rep co-conspirator who knows more about my antics than I do at any given time, I shall find something which does it for me. I know this, because I will try EVERYTHING until I find it.

Debit card at the ready. I move out two weeks today!