To understand Samantha you have to understand one thing; she was a spanking aficionado. She passionately loved everything and anything to do with spanking. She liked looking at spanking art, adored watching spanking movies and cherished being spanked herself. She wasn’t a pain slut. That’s not why she liked being spanked. She liked being spanked because she had a genetic urge to have someone smack her (as she called it) naughty little bottom.
So when we met in Adelaide, when I was lost to the nightmare of a manic phase, and obsessed with slapping as many female posteriors as I could, it was a match made in heaven. Within hours of us meeting she had manipulated herself over my knee for a playful spanking session in the middle of an Adelaidian park. But then she left to continue her travels and my manic self moved on to finding another play partner.
Four months later I was sitting in front of a computer. My manic phase had long since ended and I was consumed with a nightmarish depression. I was homeless. I was destitute. I was lost. Waiting for me when I logged onto Facebook was a message and a friend request. Both were from someone named Samantha Campbell. I had no idea who she was or how she found me, so when I read the message, a beautifully written question as to whether I was the same Andrew Lake who spent the evening with her in Adelaide, I was taken aback. I had little to no memory of Adelaide, especially the time I spent when I was manic. I didn’t accept the friend request, but I did respond to her message, asking for more information. Within days she had responded with an equally beautifully written tale of bottom slapping, endless conversation, spank bets and spanking. She even included photos; photos of me, with a ravishingly beautiful woman she identified as herself. After reading her latest missive, I accepted her friend request.
For months we communicated with each other online, exchanging emails, Facebook posts, comments and endless MSN chats. She filled in my missing memories of Adelaide, we discussed my mental health and dissected what I had been writing on my blog. But we also did other things. We chatted about our mutual love of spanking, we indulged our fantasies with cyber-spanking sessions and shared personal, intimate fantasies we had both been harboring for years. Through these online sessions we became firm friends. She was often the first person I thought of when waking up in my park, and the last person I thought of as I bedded down with my blanket for the night. Unlike every other friend I’d ever had, Samantha knew me, intimately, because I hid nothing from her. Not my mental health. Not my fantasies. Not my kink.
Upon returning to the UK in early 2008 I knew what I wanted to do. Samantha was back in Stirling, studying fashion and design, so I wanted to see her. I wanted us to be face to face, sharing ourselves in person, instead of through fibre-optic cabling. It took months to organise. Months that we spent continuing to chat online, email each other almost daily and getting to know each other on deeper, murkier levels. Nothing she learned about me seemed to phase her. She just accepted it. Accepted me. In April of that year we finally matched our calendars and I jetted off to Glasgow for a reunion with someone I had gotten to know so well. It was awkward at first, but within hours we were comfortable around each other, gleefully playing off each others words, happily teasing and playing in the cultural capital of Scotland.
And no reunion with Samantha would have been complete without spanking playing a pivotal role. She had written to me before we met, asking if I would be willing to help her fulfill a lifelong dream. It took me a while to come around, to be confident enough within myself to perform her desire, but I agreed. And in a hotel, late one evening, I took Samantha over my knee and gave her a jolly good spanking. It wasn’t abuse. It wasn’t assault. It was two consenting adults sharing in a mutual passion. And she (and I) loved every second of it.
In order to mask the noise of our indulgence we hooked up an iPod to play music throughout our session. It was Samantha, always with a heavy sense of irony, who chose the song. And it is a song that – no matter when or where I hear it – reminds me of the time I spanked Samantha Campbell.
It is the anthem of our friendship. A song that fills me with warmth, happiness, joy and contentment. A song that reminds me that, no matter what, it is the people we meet who have the greatest influence on our life. Samantha accepted me for who I was. She didn’t try to change me. She didn’t want me to pretend to be someone different. She wanted me to be Andrew; mental health, kink and all.
That’s why she will always be one of my best friends. If not my bestest friend.
You can read more about my friendship with Samantha in these posts:
I’ve always been interested in the world of kink. How it relates to our personality. How it reflects on who we are. How it impacts on various aspects of our life. And how, if any, it links to the world of mental health. For someone who has battled mental illness since he was a teenager, and for someone who has struggled with his kinky self for even longer, the world of kink and how it relates to mental illness fascinates me.
In this post I ruminate on how my kinky self has impacted, or been impacted by, my various mental illnesses. From the ups and downs of bipolar through C-PTSD via social anxiety and self harm, I cast an eye over how kink has affected my life.
Given the subject matter, it should go without saying that this post is not for familial eyes. So any members of my family who just happen to stumble upon this post, please respect my need for privacy and read no further. Everyone else, feel free to join me on my journey with kink! :)
Well, the journey has come to an end. Today marks the final installment of the Ten Times to Be Happy challenge and, truth be told, I’m a little sad. I’ve enjoyed sharing my happiness over the last ten days, and hope that you’ve enjoyed joining me on my journey. Today is all about things that cheer us up, as I share ten things guaranteed to brighten my mood on even the darkest day.
~1~ Literature
My first memory of being on this earth was walking to the library alone. My parents, in their infinite awesomeness, would watch from the front door of our house as I walked the two hundred yards to the local library. Once there, I would fill my satchel with books and then rush home to begin devouring them.
In the intervening years I have developed a passionate love of both libraries and the books contained within them. I cherish good literature above all else. It fills me with joy. Reinforces my hope for a better, more kinder world. And fills me with happiness like nothing else can.
“She would have liked to sit upon a rock and listen to words, not of any man, but detached, mysterious, poetic words that she alone would interpret through some sense inherited from sleep.”
~ Patrick White, Voss ~
~2~ Serena Ryder
With a tremendous vocal range, intelligent lyrics and a knack for getting the best out of the guitar, how could you not fall for this Canadian singer-songwriter? Her music has been the source of tremendous solace throughout my life, scoring several pertinent moments (e.g. my breakdown, my homelessness) and filling me with joy on even the darkest, most brutal of days.
Would you mind if I pretended we were somewhere else
Doin’ something we wanted to?
‘Cause all this livin’ makes me wanna do
Is die ’cause I can’t live with you
And you don’t even care.
Would you mind if I pretended I was someone else
With courage in love and war?
I used to think that’s what I was
But now this lyin’ hurts too much
And I don’t know what for.
I’m weak in the knees for you
But I’ll stand if you want me to
My legs are strong and I move on
But honey I’m weak in the knees…
Would you mind if I walked over and I kissed your face
In front of all of your friends?
Would you mind if I got drunk and said
I wanna take you home to bed
Oh, would you change your mind?
~ from ‘Weak in the Knees’ ~
~3~ Scotland
The heart stopping landscape of the Isle of Skye.
When I was a child, growing up in the small village of Portlethen, on the eastern coast of Scotland, I was more concerned with being a brattish schoolboy – playing practical jokes on my family and getting into as much mischief as I could – than being aware of the country I was living in. But all that changed when my parents took us on a day trip to Loch Ness, a couple of hundred miles west, in the heart of the Highlands. I can vividly remember gazing through the car window at the luscious landscape all around me, feeling a pull on my heartstrings that indicated all was well in my world.
After moving to Wales when I was eleven, I felt like a part of my soul was being ripped out. I missed Scotland with an intense passion, and couldn’t wait to return. Several years and one hypomanic episode later, I did, returning to my childhood love of the Highlands with a twenty-six mile hike down the shores of Loch Ness. From there I went to Fort William, where I experienced the grandeur of Glen Nevis and breathtaking Glenfinnan, on the shores of Loch Shiel.
Every day I spent in Scotland made me feel complete. The country fills me with a passion unlike anything else on this earth. I feel connected to Scotland. I experience physical pain when I am away from it. It is, without question, my home on this earth. Living in Australia, being so far from my home, fills me with sadness. But I have made my home a shrine to this magical, mysterious country. Maps of Skye, of Loch Ness, of Torridon adorn my walls. Photographs of the Highlands, of the islands, of the cities, decorate every nook and cranny.
Scotland, its people, its culture, its folklore, fills me with a happiness unlike anything else on this world. It soothes my soul. It completes me.
Caledonia by James Hogg
Caledonia! thou land of the mountain and rock,
Of the ocean, the mist, and the wind-
Thou land of the torrent, the pine, and the oak,
Of the roebuck, the hart, and the hind;
Though bare are thy cliffs, and though barren thy glens,
Though bleak thy dun islands appear,
Yet kind are the hearts, and undaunted the clans,
That roam on these mountains so drear!
A foe from abroad, or a tyrant at home,
Could never thy ardour restrain;
The marshall’d array of imperial Rome
Essay’d thy proud spirit in vain!
Firm seat of religion, of valour, of truth,
Of genius unshackled and free,
The muses have left all the vales of the south,
My loved Caledonia, for thee!
Sweet land of the bay and wild-winding deeps
Where loveliness slumbers at even,
While far in the depth of the blue water sleeps
A calm little motionless heaven!
Thou land of the valley, the moor, and the hill,
Of the storm and the proud rolling wave-
Yes, thou art the land of fair liberty still,
And the land of my forefathers’ grave!
~4~ Doctor Who
Even owls like Doctor Who! :)
My favourite television series – bar none! It has been part of my life since 1988, cheering me up and filling me with confidence for over twenty-five years. The good Doctor never fails to lift my spirits and his confidence in the face of danger pushes me to victory against whatever demon has decided to raise its ugly head.
My top five NuWho stories that never fail to cheer me up:
1. Utopia 2. Vincent and the Doctor 3. Partners in Crime 4. Human Nature/The Family of Blood 5. The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang
“I am and always will be the optimist.
The hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams”
~Eleventh Doctor~
My top five Classic Who stories that never fail to cheer me up:
1. Remembrance of the Daleks 2. City of Death 3. Doctor Who and the Silurians 4. Inferno 5. The Evil of the Daleks
~5~ Blog Comments
It’s funny how such a simple thing can fill me with happiness and perk me up on overcast, depression filled days. Just the sight of that orange notification button causes my heart to flutter. I hover the cursor upon it, overflowing with curiosity for what post has inspired some beautiful soul to share their thoughts with me. And then smile sweetly as their words stoke my heart, filling me with joy and contentment.
“In the midst of feeling completely desperate and totally compelled to hurt myself, I came across a picture of your safe box then followed the link to your blog. Just reading the facts about you has calmed me down enough to not. Thank you.”
~ from Anna, on About Me ~
~6~ Smoking
Rolling your own cigarette. One of the most gloriously relaxing pastimes imaginable! :)
I don’t know whether it’s because it’s on my mind at the moment, given we’re in day two of my quit smoking campaign, but smoking a cigarette is one of life’s only joys. I don’t know whether it was simply the inhalation of relaxing chemicals or the glorious routine of making the cigarette, but smoking never failed to lift my spirits and put a smile on my face. But that’s all in the past now. I’m not allowed to smoke again. I’m determined this time!
“After some time he felt for his pipe. It was not broken, and that was something. Then he felt for his pouch, and there was some tobacco in it, and that was something more. Then he felt for matches and he could not find any at all, and that shattered his hopes completely.”
~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Hobbit ~
~7~ Binge watching television series!
Binge watching 24 is one of my favourite, most cherished pastimes!
I’ve been doing this long before it was fashionable to do so. Back in the day I used to binge watch Alias, 24 and all manner of British dramas and situation comedies. On my days off work I would settle in with whatever show had taken my fancy and, for several hours, immerse myself in the fictional world. But now everyone does it, and they think they invented it. But they didn’t. I did! :p
“Too much of a good thing can be wonderful!”
~ Mae West ~
~8~ Runrig
I first discovered Runrig when I purchased the album The Stamping Ground. It was one of those on-a-whim purchases that we all make from time to time. I don’t know what drew me to the CD. Perhaps the colourful artwork. Perhaps the fact it was filed in Scottish Folk/Rock. Perhaps it was just a moment of destiny; one of those instances of happenstance that change your world. From the very first listen of the CD I was hooked. The music spoke to me like no other musician had ever done. It touched my heart, filled me with hope and soothed my troubled soul.
Runrig are my favourite musicians. They have been producing heartfelt folk/rock music for over forty years. Their music features heavily on the soundtrack to my life and it never fails to lift my mood during moments of darkness and depression.
There’s thunder clouds
Round the hometown bay
As I walk out in the rain
Through the sepia showers
And the photoflood days
I caught a fleeting glimpse of life
And though the water’s black as night
The colours of Scotland
Leave you young inside
There must be a place
Under the sun
Where hearts of olden glory
Grow young
There’s a vision coming soon
Through the faith that cleans your wound
Hearts of olden glory
Will be renewed
Down the glens where the headlands stand
I feel a healing through this land
A cross for a people
Like wind through your hands
There must be a place
Under the sun
Where hearts of olden glory
Grow young
~ from ‘Hearts of Olden Glory’ ~
~9~ Friendship
I miss my friends. I miss spending my afternoon sharing a jug of beer with Grace. I miss playing pool with Kathy, hiking the Canadian wilderness with Annie and indulging in kinky, slightly perverted, acts with Samantha. I miss how my friends made me feel; happy, contented, invincible. Being alone is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Not even giving up cigarettes comes close to the pain and distress one feels when they know they are spending their life alone; unloved, uncared for, forgotten.
Although I have several online friendships, all of which I am thankful for, it isn’t the same as having people you can spend time with in real life. There isn’t the camaraderie, the instantaneous gratification or sharing of wit that is part and parcel of real life conversation.
If I had three wishes granted to me, my first wish would be to have friends. Not many. Just one or two. That would make me happy. It always did.
“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
~ Elbert Hubbard ~
and
~10~ Spanking!
A picture Meadhbh (and I) drew. It apparently depicts us being soundly spanked! :p
Hey! Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it. A good spanking has the power to lift anyone out of the deepest, darkest quagmire. Don’t believe me? Then toddle off to your significant other (or BFF or bestest, most nonjudgmental friend) and request they put you over their knee for a sound spanking. Done? Your bottom’s all nice and toasty now? See. Your spirits have lifted, haven’t they? Told you they would! :p
“Of course it hurts, it’s a spanking. How else would it work?”
~ Breanna Hayse ~
This post isn’t going to be for everyone. Some of you may look upon it and think oooo, I’m getting all sorts of fuzzy warm feelings inside, whilst others will look upon it and think that’s absolutely disgusting, I’m going to write a strongly worded letter to this deviant! But that’s kinda the point. It’s meant to be divisive. It’s meant to create debate.
Now I’ll be honest. I didn’t actually write this post. This post is a collaboration between two of my voices, Meadhbh and Shay, but the topic, the content of this post, makes me blissfully happy. That’s why they wrote it. Whilst lost to the flashback and nightmare earlier this week, Meadhbh and Shay took it upon themselves to create something that would make me happy, something that would fill me with the aforementioned fuzzy warm feelings. They didn’t post it straight away because they didn’t want to upset me, they didn’t want to put something out there if I wasn’t comfortable with it being in the public domain, but after careful consideration, and after seeing the prompt for today’s installment of the 30 Day Self Harm Awareness Challenge, I’ve decided to post it and see what happens.
So I will now hand you over to Meadhbh and Shay, who have put together a collection of artwork that depicts a most heartwarming bottomwarming of activities, to ask the question butt is it art or porn?
Under normal circumstances I would password protect this post. However, Meadhbh is not a fan of password protection, so we have reached a compromise. I will post it without a password under the proviso that this warning is inserted: family members of Addy, I politely request that you read no further! Thank you! :)
As it has taken me so long to polish off this challenge (coming on thirteen months now!) I’ve decided enough is enough! So, in one semi-epic post, I’m answering the remaining eight prompts in the 30 Days of Kink challenge! Enjoy!
And yes, I’m aware that there were lots of exclamation points in those few sentences…but I’m not apologizing for it. Exclamation points are, after all, the ‘jazz hands’ of the punctuation world! :p
All that I am, all that I ever was... 