Well, not everything.  But when it comes to BDSM, I have to say the internet still rivals most other sources of information.

I was reading Ferns’s Domme Chronicles the other day when I noticed that she seemed to have an interesting new toy.  She was posting pics of recent acquisitions, including these:


“Are those cutting boards?” I asked.  And I asked her how she liked them.

“Yes, indeed!” she answered.  “I am a delicate flower (no, truly) and a decent spanking hurts me more than it hurts him, so I like it quite a bit. It is more solid than a purpose-made paddle, and has the corresponding heavier impact for minimal effort.

“And I like it quite a bit–it is lovely quality, looks beautiful and has a very satisfying slap-thud. I’d say from the sounds that he makes when I use it that it might hurt just a little bit . . . “

All of this sounded excellent to me.  I’m a fan of a satisfying slap-thud myself, and I made sure to draw the post to Robbie’s attention.  Robbie is increasingly in charge of toy-and-costume acquisition, presumably because he does it better than I do, and possibly because if he does it, he can execute quality control. (Not that he’s into control.)

So I wasn’t entirely surprised when, last weekend, I walked into the room I use as my dressing room when I’m at his house and found, waiting for me, an assortment of new toys.  They included:

– the new sharps kit (items from a medical supply store)

– a platinum wig (he says I’m going blonde for the gangbang he is certain I will one day agree to; apparently, he’s ready any time now)

– an unvarnished cutting board

He had gotten himself a cutting board too,  as I found out the next day when he called me to his bedroom and had me assume the spankee position without offering me any explanation.

I got three medium-force thwaps.  I was unsure whether they were punishment for something I’d done?  (I’ve been ranting about my punishment cravings lately.)  Or maybe they were foreplay?  (He did show me, after the thwaps, that he had a fairly significant hard-on.)  Or . . .??

“How was that?” he asked.

“Confusing,” I started.  “I felt like . . . ”

Robbie sighed.  I have a tendency to scrutinize my own emotions intensely, in a way that can very occasionally frustrate him.  “Let me clarify the question.  How was that physical sensation?”

Oh! It felt good.  What was it?”

“The cutting board.”

“I like that.  It’s really nice and thuddy.”

“Like a paddle, right?”

“Yeah, but a paddle has edges–I mean, that has edges too, but with a paddle you’re more likely to get the person with an edge, which stings.  And with that you have a lot more area.  Do you know what I mean?”  I swear, my brain goes out the window as soon as it senses any pain or any rope.

“Yes,” Robbie said drily.  “I know what you mean.”

So.  I’m here to testify that Ferns’s Bread Board Paddle is a great toy.  And also to show you mine . . . I hope you like it.