The Point Where the Crazy Takes Over

Something happened last week, something I think probably every sexually active female ever can relate to. I freaked out and thought I was pregnant.

I took the test, early one morning, before work- because how could I get through the day with this niggling at my mind? I peed on a stick (and my hand, mostly), but I got one little line that told me it was okay. I'm not pregnant.

I cried. Relief? Maybe. Regret? Maybe. Pent up, crazy emotions. Mostly.

It had been a rough 48 hours. 

I was in the shower (most of my stories start in the shower as this is where I think, far too much). I'm sudsing up and deciding what I should do about this nagging headache. This headache I have had for about two weeks now. Not an awful headache, just an ever present ache that never really leaves. I start thinking about what can cause this... you see my line of thinking?

Throw in the replaying of every woman's pregnancy story ever that has given me all the gory details. Did you know you can still get your period when you're pregnant?? Did you know my own mother-in-law had no idea for four months that she was pregnant with my husband?? Sudden, secret pregnancy could be hereditary!

Aside from being 32 and in a loving marriage with the love of my life- whom I fully intend on producing offspring with, now is not the time. When we got engaged and then married and sketched out our timeline of life events we thought by this point, yeah, we'd probably have a baby. But things change, plans change, we talk, we reassess and we (rather recently) had another conversation about timelines and plans and got on the same page.

You should also understand that I live in a constant state of worry that the over precautions we take (mostly at the insistence of my husband- the 'surprise baby' himself) are all for nothing. I feel like it would be the ultimate joke on us that we have been so insanely careful to not spawn offspring for so long that we'll eventually find out my uterus is actually a barren wasteland. That I could have saved myself the time of taking a pill everyday because we could have just been raw dogging it and using condom money on something more fun.

See how unprepared I was for my mind to fly to the complete other side of the spectrum? One day- barren wasteland. Next day- convinced I am at least six weeks pregnant (by my calculations of that one time we maybe had vaginal penetration with no barrier between us).

Valentine's Day 2015. Also the day I have a shower revelation and convince myself every single thing happening with my body is due to pregnancy. Headache, tiredness, and irritability. My pants are tight. I've been more flighty than usual. I've cried more.

I walk around in a fog for most of Saturday. We have dinner with friends. I laugh and smile and push the crazy feelings down. By Sunday morning I have convinced myself that I am the most horrible person on the planet. I try to add up how many times I got a little tipsy the past few months, and how often I drank without being tipsy, and- oh, dear god, I've been playing roller derby! I have been playing a full contact sport and putting my body through way more than one should be if they are with child. Already I am the worst mother ever and I am not even certain I am a mother. 

It's Sunday afternoon at this point and I have been withdrawn and irritable all day. 'What's up?' my sweet, unassuming husband wants to know.

"I need you to tell me I'm being crazy!" I all but shout at him.

So I pour out everything of the past day, all my thoughts and emotions, starting with the shower revelation. Fully expecting him to laugh it off, tell me I'm insane and hand me a beer.

But instead the color drains from his face. And I can see the wheels turning. No. No. No. You are supposed to be the sane one!

We start trying to remember- when was that time we were fooling around on the couch, no condoms in reach? Did I miss a pill that week? Not that long ago... did you come? No? I mean, what's the rules on pre-cum and pregnancy? "You had your period!" he yells out, suddenly as if he has just discovered electricity. 

I sadly trample on his new found hope with my "horror stories of pregnancy periods".

"Don't Google anything!" He tells me. He's really telling himself. I am almost positive if I checked his internet history it would have 'signs of brain tumor' multiple times in his Google searches. The internet gives you the worst case scenario on everything. Valuable tool, yes, but if you want to enter a health situation with a modicum of sanity left then do not venture over to Web MD.

At this point I am on the verge of tears. My life as I know it, is over. 

My husband looks over at me, seeing my panicked state of hyper emotional turmoil and says, "Hey, it's going to be fine."

He's completely unconvincing as he looks like he's going to vomit, but I take his words to heart. It is going to be fine. He pulls me into a great big bear hug and I allow myself to breathe a little easier.

The rest of our night is a fog. We meet up with a friend, plans we had prior to our crisis. We try to act normal and I mentally rearrange pieces of our life. We could make this work. It is not the ultimate plan, but if it were to happen, we would be fine.

I think of friends that are trying to conceive, the heartbreak that brings. I think of my gay friends who are already saving for their in-vitro sessions and the headache of planning out each minute detail. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself.

I can do this, we can do this. So I go out the next morning and buy some coffee and breakfast and a pregnancy test (you know, the usual "Can I have my muffin with a side of First Response?").

Three short (the longest) minutes of my life to tell me what I can expect.

One line. I am not pregnant.

Who knows what those tears were for? I'd be lying to say I wasn't relieved. But I would also be lying if I said a part of me wasn't excited.

Anyway, I am back to thinking I am a barren wasteland. Also I need to lay off the chocolate so my pants will fit. And I have a sinus headache that was easily remedied with the neti pot and some OTC meds.

You know, just your usual weekend. 

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Free on Amazon~ Spanking Historical Romance

Welcome back! Two weeks in a row for Saturday Spankings. I feel like I am setting a record!

This week I have exciting news, my short little novella, Emmaline's Gamble is available for free until February 23rd!!! If you have not had a chance to read it yet or have been wondering about my Ravenswood series, but didn't want to spend the money, then now is your chance!

Here is a little snippet in my story where Emmaline rouses her husband, Leo, from sleep and then tries to coax him into what could be a pleasant wake up for them both- only he may have turned the tables on her:

"Touch yourself," he instructed.

"What?" Emmaline blinked back at him, certainly she had misheard him.

"I want you to put your hand to your sex and pleasure yourself," he stated.

"I cannot."

"You cannot?" Leo asked, raising his eyebrows at her. "Or you will not?" He pinned her in his gaze and she felt heat flooding her face. He was asking her to do something that felt very wrong. She should not be touching herself down there, with an audience.

Thanks for stopping by! Make sure you check out all the rest of the Saturday Spankings offerings!

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A Sci Fi Spanking~ #Free Story! #Satspanks

Happy Valentine's Day all! I've been a little off the grid lately but I promise I have been working on all good things! It's Saturday which means it's Saturday Spankings day!!

I have something exciting to share today, I have dipped my toe into the sci fi waters and I am going to share a taste with you today.

This is from a short story called "The Queen and the Time Machine" that is actually being sent out for free this month in the Baronet Press newsletter. So if you like what you read make sure you sign up because the newsletter (with my story) is going out early next week!

Click Here to Sign UP!

A little set up: Astor and Lyra are newly married and it was an arranged marriage of sorts so they are still feeling each other out.  Lyra has broken the law and put herself in danger and Astor decides he's had enough of letting her do whatever she wants.

She twisted, and tried to shrug away from him. “Let go of me,” she insisted, but found herself hoisted up.

Astor had propped his foot on the bench at the end of her bed and then as if she weighed nothing, thrown her over his knee. She kicked, her feet dangling above the floor as she tried to balance herself with a hand on the bench. His hand cracked down against her backside and she cursed, her thin robe did nothing to protect against his hard hand. “Settle down, I told you we'd be having a discussion.”

Was this his idea of a discussion? She was under the assumption they spoke the same language, but maybe she should be clear on what they both meant in regards to some words.

Thanks for stopping by and make sure you check out everyone else's Saturday Spanks!

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The Winter Doldrums and a Free Story!!

I'm writing to you today and feeling a bit more human. My day job got a little hairy the past three weeks and between a terrible schedule, the terrible weather, and just all around lack of sleep I had no time to write or make it to roller derby practices. And really what do you have when you take away all the things we like to do?

I felt like a shell of a human being- I know that's being kind of dramatic (but sometimes I can be dramatic), but I really was walking around in a zombie-like state for the past few weeks. 

I woke up this morning and finally shook the migraine that plagued me yesterday. I got back to skating, I've been writing, I feel like a new woman! I've even managed to shake this mood I've been in, for the time being at least. 

The winter doldrums have hit me with full force. I expect it to happen every year. I am not a cold weather person and living in a place that has all the seasons (although in recent years it feels like we have two seasons: cold as fuck and hot as fuck), I have to deal with being out of my comfort zone for a few months of the year. But why do the winter months seem like the loooongest months??

And I stupidly thought we were in the home stretch when we got through the holidays without any snow. But January and February have all been sleet and freezing rain, everyday is cloudy and I feel like we live in an igloo.

I started up the yearly "Let's move somewhere more pleasant!" campaign with the other half (although, why do I waste my breath? The man wears shorts year round and although it isn't scientifically proven yet- I believe he is part polar bear). He gives me the, "But where would we go?"

Here is the answer: Somewhere where the air doesn't hurt my face!!! 

I hear there are mythical places like this, where the sun shines and the air is warm...

Let's all take a moment.

Enough whining. Anyway, I have been fighting off the winter suck by coming up with a new story. This new one I am working on is a bit different for me, very different from anything else I have written and I am super excited about it!

If you want a sneak preview you should sign up for the Baronet Press newsletter by clicking here. 

Our free story this month will be featuring characters from my new book.  Did I mention I'm excited about it??

Don't miss out, sign up today. 

For now I will be drinking hot beverages and contemplating putting my socks in the dryer again- what do you do to keep warm in the winter?

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In the Aftermath

I'm continuing on with The Year of the Spank. I was a little worried I was jinxing myself, you know starting a series on my blog about my real life adventures in spanking would almost mean for certain I was jinxing something and it was all going to stop. I don't think I really need to worry too much though.

We had snow this week. Not as much as was predicted- it was kind of like "Oh my god we're all going to die!!!" forecasting and what we got was a pain in the ass amount of snow, but not shutting the entire state down for days sort of thing. Anyway, the residents of my east coast town kind of all collectively decided fuck it, it's cold we are staying in anyway. And so that was the Blizzard of 2015 that wasn't (at least here).

Mr. McKay and I got normal blizzard essentials, and quickly realized that our blizzard essentials mirror our hurricane essentials. Chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, gatorade, whiskey and mixers. (Don't worry we had plenty of candles and batteries left over from hurricane season.)

After we cracked into our supply of whiskey I made a flippant comment about getting this show on the road (I had been promised some snow day kink)- my pants were suddenly whipped off of me as I wriggled and squirmed to stay upright on the couch while my husband dropped to his knees before me. I was quickly and thoroughly brought to completion by fingers and tongue and I collapsed breathlessly back against the cushions. (I wish all my flippant comments were met with such results- but I think it was a Snow Day Miracle.)

Upstairs for part two- we had another round with the vibrating plug and then I was pushed to bend over the end of the bed, the Hitachi wedged against my front, plug in my ass, and then he picked up the cane. Oh sweet mother of mercy, I'm pretty sure I gushed everywhere before he even touched me. He was light on the cane, but I wasn't about to complain- because these are things I have asked for, implements he is not used to using and would not have broken out on his own even a year ago. So I went with it.

At some point it becomes a blur. I know my throat got hoarse from screaming- this is also the night I discovered that Mr. McKay views it as a game to see how many times he can make me come and chuckles with delightful glee when I am shuddering and begging with tears leaking from my eyes (begging for him to stop or keep going is a mystery to both of us- but there sure was a lot of begging).

I try to be the proper amount of annoyed when he tells me this is his favorite game, but I can't help but break out into a smile and think- holy shit, we may even be more evenly matched then I originally though. The crazy things you learn.

Anyway, sounds like a full night? Yes?

But we're in the bathroom cleaning up and I mention that he could have gone harder with the cane.

He leans over me and switches off the faucet, "Harder?"

"Um, yeah. I mean this was great. I'm just saying, it's okay to use it a little harder."

He grabs my elbow and leads me out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Oh shit, I didn't mean right now. I've already come so much my knees aren't steady and what if it hurts a million times more because I'm tired and oh shit...

He leads me back to the end of the bed and picks up the cane which is leaning against the wall. "Right now?" I squeak.

He smiles, "Yeah, why not?" He swishes the cane through the air and I bend over again rethinking this whole 'giving him notes' thing when I am still naked and at his disposal. "How much harder?" he asks.

I shrug, completely losing my nerve. "A little bit?"

"Like in that video you showed me?" (Spankingtube- for all your educational needs)

I quickly try to remember what video I may have shown him before agreeing. He doesn't wait for a response just lifts the cane and whips it through the air- it lands with a satisfying thwack on my ass. I lift to my toes, more from the surprise of the strike than any real pain- although a delicious line of warmth blooms from under where he still holds the cane against me. 

"Makes a neat little whippy noise doesn't it?" he muses.

"Uh huh," I practically moan out.

"So, like that? That hard? Is that better?" 

I almost laugh at his tone of voice, like he's asking if he's put enough pepper in the mashed potatoes or something.

"Yes." And I can't figure out why I am instantly ready again, am I never fully satiated?

"Cool," he says as he brings his arm back and canes me again- cool little whippy noise and all. This time I don't jump to my toes but I can't help the smile that breaks out on my face when he says, "I got this." I don't know if he's talking to me or himself. A third stroke a bit further down and then he walks and puts the cane back against the wall. "You okay?"

I say yes and wonder if I should thank him, is it weird to say 'good job'? He smiles again and walks back out of the bedroom. I have a moment of confusion- this is not a romance novel ending. But then I have to shake myself, I don't live in a romance novel. Maybe he should have thrown me on the bed and made mad, passionate love to me again? Or at least made this a proper spanking. I stand in the center of the room, sort of confused at what has just transpired and what I am to do now when he pops his head back in the doorway. "I'm hungry! Chicken nuggets?"

"I'll start the oven."

"You're the best!" he exclaims.

"No, you're the best." And there isn't any doubt in my mind that we both really mean that. 

Life is not a romance novel. My night ended cuddled up on the couch eating chicken nuggets and watching reruns of 30 Rock. I would probably not ever want to read a book like this, but I have to say, it's a pretty damn good life.

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