Mischief Managed

Canes of Antiquity

2011-12-14T13:22:00.001-05:00

During a most welcome and lovely visit to my home town, MrA and I stumbled upon a quaint little antique store, where, quite unexpectedly, we were able to acquire some particularly intriguing items.

These treasures of antiquity were my ever-incorrigible partner's discovery. At the time, we were shopping with family members, so a certain (aka HIGH) level of discretion was required. I was innocently gazing at some lovely brass figurines near the front of the store when he came up and whispered in my ear, "Go to the back, turn left, walk down to the end of the hall, and see what you find hanging from the B--- sign."

Immediately I knew it couldn't be anything good.

Hanging? My first dreaded guess as I picked my way through the shop was some sort of evil strap... Maybe even a tawse... Some form of heavy old cracked well-worn perfectly authentic leather just resting serenely upon the wall of this ancient place.

Alas, perhaps another shop, another day :D

When I arrived at the end of MrA's cryptic verbal treasure map, what I found instead was even worse: four long, slim, whippy, crook-handled canes, hooked over the side of an old sign. They had been deliberately plucked from a basket of all sorts of other long, whippy-looking evil things -- the only four crook-handled canes in the whole bundle.

I handled them carefully, discovering that, while appearing spindly and quite thin, they retained quite an astonishing amount of strength and suppleness.

Needless to say, before we left town, MrA and I took the opportunity to make one pit-stop and purchase four new additions to our growing collection of implements. After a good hardy bath in rubbing alcohol, each one will undergo a thorough treatment regimen with mineral oil, to re-hydrate what is obviously some very old wood (or rattan? we are not quite sure what they are made of...), and smooth out any rough edges.

Playing with them will require some careful measures, but really, I think MrA liked them more for show. They have a very appealing visual aesthetic :D I am sure they will get more looks than uses... :D:D But in any case, I will be sure to keep you informed as to their progress in our hands!

Spanking at your Fingertips

2011-11-30T22:57:00.004-05:00

Ah the joys of technology!

As you may imagine, I am a hugely enthusiastic fan of any technological application that allows me to make pretty things of my own design -- a blog, for instance, full of content of my choosing and crafting :D

Thus, any time I happen to get my hands on my partner's iPad (shameless plug, highly attractive and addictive little slice of technology), the first application I always seem to go to is the "Drawing Pad," where all manner of pretty colors and shapes and ideas are literally
at my fingertip.

I have an entire blank canvas to fill with

whatever I want.

One evening, waiting for him to come to bed, I had a moment of inspiration and finger-drew this very rough, first-attempt sketch.

When I say rough, I mean rough -- this was pure thought in my mind translated straight to purple lines on the smooth glass surface of the iPad, no pre-planning, no pre-sketching, no erasing -- just creation.

Despite its crudeness (and I don't mean the content ;D), I decided to post it here for you to enjoy, and perhaps to inspire you to explore some of your own illustrative leanings.

Your canvas awaits!

(Even if you don't have an iPad, get out some finger paints, for goodness sake! Just be sure to wash the paint off your hands before spanking anybody... That could get a tad messy...) :):)

Spanked on a Park Bench

2011-10-29T23:00:00.003-04:00

I have let nearly the entire month of October slip by without a single blog post! Shame on me!

It's not for lack of material -- living with a spanko, I have more material from the past few months than I have ever been able to amass in my entire life before moving in :D

What is it then? Perhaps it could do with the fact that I am not online nearly as much as I used to be... Besides spending more time furthering my career, I am also no longer constantly looking for ways to fill other needs... I have everything I could ever dream of asking for right here :D

It is truly a pleasure, whenever I can, to share this journey with people who enjoy hearing about it.

Thank you for being such a patient, gracious audience, as I find a new rhythm for living and posting about a spanking journey that has taken a very positive turn :D

~~~~

Walking around outside in the twilight hours with a Top can be a very dangerous thing. Especially if you yourself happen to be a Bottom or Spankee. And you happen to be walking around a rather deserted park. With benches. And plenty of tree cover.

Let me show you what happens:

Ladies and Gentlemen, I can assure you, I speak from experience. :D

This very thing happened to me not more than a few weeks ago, when the weather was still mostly hospitable but brisk enough to keep most people indoors as the sun left the sky.

There we were, strolling through the neighborhood park, quite aware of being all alone.

Passing by one bench -- quite close to the entrance.

Passing by another -- still in plain view of the cars zipping by on the street.

Approaching a third bench -- tucked away in the quiet trees of the park, facing away from the street, away from the empty playground on the other side of the green, protected from the view of backyards by rows of tall bushes and branches of leaves.

A pause.

A look -- exchanged.

We are both thinking one thing. Although I am feeling nervous and anxious and giddy all at once.

He is just giddy. :D

Before I can think too much, I am already being pulled toward the bench. In one fluid motion he sits down and guides me over his lap, ignoring my verbal protestations and frantic glancing around to make absolutely positively undeniably sure that we are without a doubt inescapably and totally alone.

SMACK!

Already his hand is coming down on the seat of my jeans -- hard and fast and without any regard for the sound that must be echoing all through the park right now.

SMACK! SMACK!

Suddenly my jeans are coming down and it's all I can do to keep from crying out, not wanting to draw any attention whatsoever from the surrounding brush. Even the flowers blooming so brightly nearby should turn away and hide their colors, in my opinion. No eye should be drawn in this direction!

SMACK SMACK SMACK!

Now he is spanking me over my panties, my face beet red, the sound of his hand on my skin amplified by the lack of thick cloth to muffle each smack.

As quick as it began, it is over. My pants come back up, and I scurry to sit up next to him and hide my face in his chest. Terrified to look around to see if even a single living soul has ventured within the park in the last 45 seconds.

He is chuckling, stroking my hair and holding me, safe in his knowledge that I will soon look up at him with my face shining, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Once I calmed down, and was assured that we were in fact alone the whole time, we decided to take some pictures in order to solidify a shared memory of the event. It was, in effect, the first time he had truly spanked me outdoors, and as we planned to add to that a great many more times, remembering the first was special for us.

He took off his hat, and we set it on the bench right where he had been sitting. We snapped the photo above, and now every time we walk by that bench, day or night, alone or in public, we will both smile and remember :D

Good Morning Spanking

2011-09-07T22:33:00.009-04:00

There I am, half asleep, covered in sheets, glad for a morning of sleeping in without worry of needing to rush off to work.

There he is, dressed and showered and ready to go, shirt buttoned, belt buckled, tie knotted and three minutes left before he has to walk out the door to catch the train.

He taps me awake, just enough for a goodbye kiss.

"Are you going?" I can't keep the drowsiness out of my voice... My eyes are half-open.

"Yes, Beautiful."

But his hand is reaching for my arm, turning me over under the sheets.

Before I can fully realize what is happening, he is spanking me, his movements effortless, the sounds of his hand muffled by the thin, cool layer of soft cloth, but the sting real, and hard.

He is spanking me to make sure that I will feel him today, still with me, even while his physical presence is elsewhere.

And, rest-assured, I did feel him.
All day long. :D:D:D

Happy Day :D

2011-09-02T17:30:00.000-04:00

For the past few birthdays, I have been transitioning into that state of being where suddenly -- even though it really happens slowly and surely , bu you know how years can seem sudden once you actually stop and take a look - where suddenly, one's birthday becomes less about "growing up, " and more about growing forward. Less about monumental changes and milestones like becoming a "teenager," getting braces, or graduating high school, and more about recognizing both the big and the little things that have come to pass in the last year which led you to where you are now.

It used to be that growing a year older meant that I was losing baby teeth, or entering a new grade in school, or legally permitted to consume alcohol, or going off to college. Even turning 23, it meant that I had graduated college, and was moving across the country to enter graduate school.

This year, as I ebb ever nearer and nearer to accomplishing a full quarter of my life, I have weathered and grown from many changes. The difference is, these are changes presented to be by life, rather than guided my way by our cultural age-appropriate milestones. I have fallen in love, and begun a partnered journey that feels so new to me, and yet so familiar. I have stumbled upon a spanking community that is more perfect than anything I could ever have imagined, and I have opened the door to "the real world" after 20 years of being in classes year-round, finding challegens and opportunities that I never even knew existed. Oh, and I got a smart-phone. About time, right? :D

I know there will still be many age-related changes coming my way -- next year I will be able to rent a car without the additional "you are still in the: Statistically-proven-to-drive-like-you-just-got-your-license-yesterday age-bracket" insurance-related fee. In many more years I may find myself smack in the middle of a mid-life crisis.

But this year, it is nice to realize that I am in charge of making my own changes now.

So far, I think I've been doing pretty darn good :D

------
Any grammatical errors in the above text are the responsibility of my iPhone -- even though I didn't use it to write this post... hehe :-)

The Spanking Collection - Released!

2011-08-31T12:00:00.002-04:00

Dear Readers!!

I am very happy and proud to be one of many today announcing the launch of a new book, The Spanking Collection, edited and produced by the lovely Abel and Haron of The Spanking Writers.

All proceeds go straight to charity! (Cancer research, UK)

Do you remember the Arlington Girls Reformatory? You can read all about it in the full-length fictional short story that I was thrilled to write for this collection. Not only that, but you can read the wonderful stories of no less than TWENTY unique and intriguing authors, all of whom wrote exclusively for this book -- these stories will not be available anywhere else!

CLICK HERE to find out where to buy the book, and for a full list of authors and their short-story titles -- it's out in both paperback and eReader versions, and remember, you are supporting a very good cause, and some very fantastic writers!

XOXO Happy Spanks, and Happy Reading!!!

Countdown Caning

2011-08-26T15:45:00.004-04:00

So all of you (you know who you are!) who have been dropping hints either subtly or unsubtly, directly or indirectly, that MrA should have so much fun caning me over the next few weeks before the swiftly approaching Spanking Weekend in the Mountains, so that by the time we get there to see all of you, his ability to cane anyone will be all worn out -- (xoxo love you guys :D, but) I will have you know, MrA is taking you quite seriously!

I've never been caned so often in my life!

(Not a very big jump, there, as I've never been spanked so often in my life either, before moving in with a spanko...) :D

Just recently, in fact, we both discovered a new "game" to have fun with the cane -- really, one could use any implement, I suppose, but somehow the alliteration of "Countdown Caning" just sounds so perfect :D

We have tried out this novel new idea more than once now, and loved it every time!

Here's how it goes:

After each stroke of the cane, you do a countdown. The trick is, with each successive stroke, the countdown gets shorter. So say, for example, you want to start the countdown at 10 -- it would look (sound) something like this:

WHACK

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one--"

WHACK

"Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one--"

WHACK

"Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one--"

ETC...

Do you see how it could become terribly exciting very quickly? :D:D The countdown continues to shorten, so that by the time you get down to:

WHACK
"Three, two, one--"
WHACK
"Two, one--"
WHACK
"One--"
WHACK!

Each stroke is coming so much faster each time!

But you've already been "warmed up" with the slower ones in the beginning, so mostly what it does is get your adrenaline going, rather than hurt more (although it does hurt just a little bit more :D:D).

Fun fun fun :D I'm sure that MrA will be happy and willing to teach the countdown caning game to anyone interested in playing :):) Just as long as you don't ask for a demonstration first!!

:D:D Happy spanks!!

Arlington Girls Reformatory

2011-08-20T09:47:00.002-04:00

Remember when I set out to write a spanking story for a collection of such stories that Abel and Haron planned to turn into a book with proceeds going to charity? Well, it's been written! And the book will be coming out soon -- be sure to check back here often, and Abel and Haron's blog, for the release date and more information!

Meanwhile, please enjoy this small taste of the events surrounding and immediately succeeding my own literary contribution to the book: a story entitled, Arlington Girls' Reformatory. :D

~~~

He was seated when I entered, his legs crossed, his iPad in hand, his brow furrowed. He looked up at me from his desk chair after a moment -- I averted my eyes, unable to meet his gaze.

"Miss Bailey. Sit down..." His gesture offered a chair, straight-backed, armless -- it had been deliberately placed there, waiting for me. As I sat, my skirt barely reaching my mid-thighs as the material tightened, he transferred the device he'd been holding into my hands. I saw at once what he had uploaded onto its screen: a PDF of the referral I had received, which had landed me here in the first place. "Read. I will be with you in a moment."

My eyes rolled over the accusatory document, reading carefully but with familiarity -- I had perused this very document in great detail only days before.

"Arlington Reform School

Discipline Referral Form"

It read across the top. I'd had to fill in the word, "Arlington," as the reform school hadn't even been named yet at the time this form had been created.

"Student's Name: Rayne Bailey
Status: Emeritus"

Well, I had founded the school after-all! Seeing as how I'd created the whole concept for the purposes of my "creative writing" assignment. Although, it seemed quite extraordinary to be in this predicament, sitting here in this chair, reading this referral with my name on it, awaiting my fate, as an "emeritus" member of the Arlington Girls' Reformatory. The situation must have been quite serious!

"Reason for Referral: Lack of motivation, Scheduling problems, and Other: Missed multiple deadlines"

All of these offenses were checked. A spacious lined area also offered the writer of the referral plenty of room to expound upon the offenses of the referred, and here my punisher had written quite a few words of explanation. I had not only missed the first deadline for turning in my story, and received an extension... I had then proceeded to miss the second, extended deadline. Luckily, I still finished my story in time for it to make the book, and all turned out well. But in the process, I had put quite a lot of stress on myself, and not to mention on my partner, who weathered the storm with me through two long weekends of writing and revising.

And there he was again, returning to his seat at his desk, considering me.

"Finished?" I nod, and hand the tablet back to him. He receives it coolly. "Is everything written here correct, Miss Bailey?"

"Yes, Sir."

"All of the names and dates?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And the offenses, you admit to committing them? You had no less than three months to complete your assignment, and yet you procrastinated enough to miss not only one, but two deadlines?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Is there anything more I should know about this situation, Miss Bailey?"

This question is slightly unexpected. Anything more he should know? Any extenuating circumstances that may have accounted for her tardiness, her inability to finish on time, even though she did finish in enough time...? The fact that she had just recently finished graduate school and moved three states away, the fact that she had recently fallen in love and invited the life of a-whole-nother person into her own, which accounted for much of her time spent doing many things other than writing?

Of course he should know these things! But glancing up into his eyes, it was clear that should she choose to utter any of them, it would only make things worse for her. Excuses, they would be, and excuses alone -- not nearly excusing the fact that it had taken her three months to start working on a work that was to be published as part of a multi-author volume.

"No, Sir."

"Very well. Stand up, Miss Bailey, and face the corner. I want you to think about what is going to happen to you, and why."

Obeying, I can feel my senses enter hyper-mode as I try to track his movements behind me. His hands are on the straight-backed chair, moving it, adjusting its positioning. He is off to another corner of the room, retrieving something -- something light enough that it makes not a sound as he lifts it and carries it nearer.

"Come here, Miss Bailey."

I turn. My eyes are lowered, not searching for his face -- but instead for his hand. For what is in his hand. It is long, thin, crook-handled. One of the canes we had recently purchased for just this purpose.

"Bend forward over the back of the chair, place your hands on the seat."

It is all I can do not to whimper as I take my position. This will be the first time that MrA has ever caned me.

"You'll receive three with the smallest cane, for the first deadline you missed."

His distinction of exactly which cane he was using puts me on guard. We have three, you see. A small one, a Junior cane, and a Senior cane. How many of them is he going to use tonight? Not all three??

As he raises my skirt, his instructions issue forth: "Count each one, and make sure I can hear you."

The first stroke comes as a total shock -- hard and fast, the first time we have played a scene together without any form of warm-up.

"Ahh! One, Sir!"

The next two with the small cane are easier to take, but no less painful. Despite its small size, that little cane still lands quite a sting.

After a hissed, "Threeee, Sir," he pauses, and instructs me to stand.

"Back to the corner, Miss Bailey. No rubbing." Behind me, he moves to place the small cane back where it came from, retrieving another. My bottom is already burning -- and yet I know we're only half way done now, if that.

Only about 45 seconds pass before he is calling me back over the chair. "Same position, but this time," and before I can do anything, his hands have not only raised my skirt, but lowered my white panties, leaving them stretched across my thighs, framing his target perfectly. "For missing the second deadline, Miss Bailey, you will receive three with the Junior cane. Start the count back at one."

He is lining up this first stroke with the next-size-up cane, I am biting my lip, grateful at least for the brief warm-up afforded to me by his initial use of the smaller cane.

Swish--CRACK!

"Aii! One, Sir!"

The next comes swiftly, and I hardly have time to catch my breath -- Whap! "Two, Sir,"

The third and final stroke is the hardest of all, leaving me breathless and whispering my final count.

"Stay where you are."

No, please, that's it, isn't it? We're done, right? Why are you going back and picking up another cane??

"For all the stress you put yourself through, not to mention your professor, and your partner, you will be receiving one stroke with the Senior cane. As it is just the one, there will be no need to count."

My mind is spinning -- I have never felt a Senior cane before -- not in my life -- even just one stroke with that thick piece of rounded rattan seems unthinkable!

There it is on my skin, tapping lightly, taking aim. Suddenly it is gone and I know it is coming --

Whoosh--CRACK!

It is all I can do to keep from yowling at the pain -- the sudden fiery line of white that flashes across my skin, just like any other cane but somehow much, much worse. "I'm sorry -- I'm sorry, Love--"

"I know. It's all over now. Come here."

And I am up in his arms, myself again, and we are both grinning from ear to ear at the success of our first role-played scene together, let alone our first real caning!

We got the canes (which we love) from Cane-iac.com, and they actually included another cane for us as a special surprise -- a straight-handle about the size of the Junior! All are lovely!

Here's to many more role-plays, much more use of the canes, and many more posts thereof! :D

Spanking Surprise!

2011-08-11T13:50:00.006-04:00

There we were, enjoying ourselves with friends at a nice little restaurant on the eastern shore line, having just come out of a refreshingly cool yet sunny jaunt in the ocean, recently dried off and de-sanded as best we could, waiting for our drinks to arrive.

I quietly announced a need to visit the restroom, before taking my leave from the table.

Little did I know, I was expeditiously followed...

As they tend to be in restaurants, the restrooms in this sea-side establishment were placed far at the back of the building, off to the side, in a little alcove far removed from any unsuspecting diners.

It wasn't until I was about to exit the conveniently-placed little room, however, and rejoin my friends at our dinner table, that I came to realize just how convenient their placement really was--

Upon opening the door, it took every effort for me not to gasp as the figure of my partner, his finger pressed to his lips, suddenly appeared and began shuffling me back the way I had come.

Surprise, surprise!

Having already switched off the light, I reached around him to switch it back on again, becoming quickly aware of his dubious plan, while he pulled the door shut quickly behind him. My reach, quite fortuitously, had put me in the perfect position, and he needed not a single moment more to wrap his left arm around my waist and hold me fast while delivering hard, fast spanks over my dress.

He was spanking me

just inside the door of the restaurant's

public facilities!

And not just a few playful slaps, either -- this spanking was quite hard, and more than a bit painful! :D

I dared not cry out, and he dared not lift my dress and risk producing the much louder sound of skin striking skin (actually, I don't know if he really "dared not" -- I think he probably would have dared :D In reality it was most likely a function of being quick, and sparing me much more extreme embarrassment) :D

When he finally let me stand up straight after 15 or 20 seconds (with more than once smack per second! :D), his face shone with triumph. We had never done anything like that before -- and as far as we could tell, with lack of police sirens wailing outside or managers hammering on the door demanding to know what naughty business might be going on, we were quite successful!

Out we came from the tiny off-set room, straightening up and re-entering the world of normal public restaurant behavior. Did the smile plastered on both of our faces when we returned to our table give us away to our dining companion? Or did my flinch when I went to sit down again go utterly unnoticed? I suppose we'll never know...

What we do know, is that we had a very fun time at the beach, and that we have a very fun secret to share, whenever and wherever we possibly can -- even when it happens to be a surprise! :D:D

Consensual Spanking Day!

2011-08-08T22:49:00.002-04:00

Happy World Consensual Spanking Day!

Today, August 8th, according to many both deliciously dubious and highly credible sources, has been designated Consensual Spanking Day, by whichever powers that may be...

Despite the gaping lack of any CNN or ABC (or FOX or NPR or Al Jazeera or BBC, if we are being multi-partial and inter-national) news declaring the holiday, I'm sure we all need very little prompting to put on a great celebration! :D

What is it that you like most about spanking?

How has consensual spanking contributed to your life, whether through ideas or actions or words or lifestyles or anything that comes first to mind?

I knew spanking was a part of me from the very beginning. Now I can truly say that it always will be, and the fact that I am able to share that with my partner in a consensual spanking relationship is more than I ever could have imagined.

Thank you, Mr A, for helping to make my dreams come true! :D

The Cane at St. Brutus's

2011-07-14T07:02:00.010-04:00

As many regular and probably a very many newer readers may know, I am an avid Harry Potter fan. (Clues may include this post, as well as that post, oh, and perhaps even the name and URL of this very blog, which refer to the highly useful Marauder's Map that Fred and George pass on to Harry in his third year.)

Despite the blog's name, however, Harry Potter-themed posts don't often grace these pages - after all, how much spanking material can one draw from a single epic 7-book British fantasy world about a magical school? : ) In light of the greatly anticipated and highly imminent new and final movie of the cinematic series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Part Two, in theatres this evening, I have decided to feature the enchanting wizarding world in another rare Rowling-themed post.

When I think of spanking in relation to Harry's world, my thoughts usually settle on none other than the exacting and oh-so-kinkify-able Professor Snape. :D

There is, however, one particular scene which I have yet to mention, that is in fact of J. K. Rowling's own making.

Do you remember it? If you are a spanko and you read the Harry Potter books, you might find it hard to forget : )

In Chapter Two of the third book, The Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry's positively horrid Aunt Marge comes to visit. Because Marge hasn't been made privy to the shocking fact that Harry is a wizard and attends a school for magic, Harry's magic-hating guardians have come up with a cover story for him:

“And,” said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, “we’ve told Marge you attend St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.”

“What?” Harry yelled.

“And you’ll be sticking to that story, boy, or there’ll be trouble,” spat Uncle Vernon.

Harry sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it.

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys"... : ) When Mr. A and I were imagining which characters people might be dressing up as at the midnight showing of the final movie tonight, I had the thought that he could go as an Administrator for St. Brutus's. Perhaps I would dress up as a newly admitted pupil, after the Center had inevitably gone co-ed... :D

The appeal of the imaginary Center, of course, is made clear a bit later, when Harry's Aunt Marge decides to engage with him about his school experiences:

“Don’t you smirk at me!” boomed Aunt Marge. “I can see you haven’t improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you.” She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, “Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?”

“St. Brutus’s,” said Uncle Vernon promptly. “It’s a first-rate institution for hopeless cases.”

“I see,” said Aunt Marge. “Do they use the cane at St. Brutus’s, boy?” she barked across the table.

“Er —”

Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge’s back.

“Yes,” said Harry. Then, feeling he might as well do the thing properly, he added, “All the time.”

“Excellent,” said Aunt Marge. “I won’t have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what’s needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry, “loads of times.”

Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes.

“I still don’t like your tone, boy,” she said. “If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren’t hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I’d write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy’s case.”

:D:D

You can imagine how my heart nearly stopped when I first read that scene! I loved how they did it in the third movie, as well, with Harry having to turn his back to keep his Aunt from seeing the smirk on his face.

There had to be at least one explicit reference to the cane in a 3,407-page (UK editions) series about a British boarding school -- even one of Witchcraft and Wizardry! (And in fact, for those more avid readers, there's at least one other mention of a cane that I can remember :D)

In honor of St. Brutus's, and my ingenious idea of bringing the imaginary school to life (go figure...), I am writing now laying on my stomach, with no less than four red-white welts across my bottom from our new set of canes (soon to be featured in another post).

It seems Mr. A is taking his new position as a St. Brutus Official quite seriously!! :D:D

All references made to Harry Potter or related characters are the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling--a truly brilliant writer and wonderful person.

Guest Post from MrA: New Spanking Game

2011-07-07T09:36:00.004-04:00

I am very pleased to announce that my partner -- who comments here as Arthur, but who many of you know as Mr A -- has graced Mischief Managed with a guest post! He is eager to tell you all about a new spanking game we recently devised together -- involving a pair of dice, and a multitude of implements!

Soon, he will be starting his own blog, where he will be sharing his thoughts on spanking as someone from the giving end -- as well as a fair dose of his very own spanking-inspired creativity :D Check back here very soon for a link to begin reading more from Mr A!

Meanwhile, please enjoy his stirring account of our new game -- and let us know what you think! :D:D

Hello Rayne’s Dear Readers!

I can’t think of a better place to introduce our newly contrived game, than a blog named “Mischief Managed”. What a perfect way to describe a game which blends the very reason we all find ourselves on this blog together...

1. Spanking

2. Implements

3. Anticipation

4. More Spanking

Before launching in to the rules, lets cover a bit of the background which resulted in this ingenious game.

As you readers know, recently myself and Rayne have embarked on a journey of partnership, friendship, love, commitment, and yes, spanking. And with each passing day, we find validation in our choice to embark on this journey. Mind you, we are human; flesh, blood, emotion, faults and complexities which need to be navigated. As such, we quickly realized that we would have to find (many) ways by which to keep the spanking aspect of our relationship fresh and exciting. It would be a curse if ever we fall in to the vanilla trap of monotony given how much we embrace and cherish our mutual love of spanking.

So, with this in mind, I knew we would always be mindful in our communication as we progressed in our journey. However, I confess that this whole idea of a spanking game was nowhere pre-conceived in either of our minds. Rather, it was an explosion born out of the realization that our combined cadre of implements and desires had already reached a point which would pose to us a challenge much different than monotony...!

In anticipation of a forth coming “play date”, we found ourselves postulating and trying to figure out which implement(s) might be called in to service. For those of you who know me, yes,...my mind went to one of many hairbrush choices. However, for Rayne, her mind was most assuredly on something comprised of leather or flesh. Finding ourselves at the beginning of what could have been an impasse, both our minds began playing with how we could creatively solve our dilemma before the desire escaped us.

It couldn’t have been more than just a few moments, when out came the idea of idea of adding chance to our selection. Having visited Las Vegas a few times in my life, my mind immediately thought of the craps table. Within moments, the idea of a dice-based game was born and agreed upon.

The question now was, how should this game be played? For this, the following will be a rough set of rules which we have found to our liking thus far. The beauty of this game is how flexible, fun and safe it is while allowing a true sense of uncontrollable anticipation to fill the air during actual play.

For starters, the game only needs 2 things...Dice! Two dice to be specific. Outside of this, the game is completely adaptable to any situation. For us, again, we were dealing with the dilemma of how to incorporate our cadre of implements. Hence, it seemed only natural to assign a specific dice role to an implement. Easy enough! Or so we thought until we sat down to the task moments later.

Seems that we own more than 11 implements (Dice roles can equal 2 through 12), so we found ourselves at another impasse. How do we pick which implements are in the game? Well, being a bit clever with #s, I realized that “7” could be achieved in 3 different combinations. (1x6, 2x5, 3x4) So, what if we expanded our initial 11 options to a whopping 21?

Funny enough, that was still not enough! ...and NO, I do not own 21 hairbrushes! In fact, what we discovered is that we have several different types of implements of which we own multiples: leather paddles, straps, hairbrushes, wood, etc.

(Lovely photo found on Cutiepie's Blog)

So with this realization, we set to the task of assigning a specific number, say “5” which has two possible out comes. (1x4, 2x3) Well, since there are 2 options, it seemed reasonable to pick a class of implement which we had 2 similar devices. In this case, Rayne owns a wonderfully sweet heart strap and a very pleasant black strap. With a stroke of a pen, there was our first accomplishment. A few minutes later, some minor bartering (I gave up on having all my hairbrushes as choices, she ceded that a cane could be part of the game) we had the makings of a completed game. Each combination of dice had an assigned implement.

Next question,...how should each implement be used? Great question! Being a game, it didn’t seem reasonable to have that question open ended, and having a set # just didn’t seem fun enough. Simple fix you say? Well you are right, but here we tried to over think this one a bit. The answer is quite obvious, just roll the dice again and there you go, that is how many strokes could be assigned to the implement. GREAT!!!! Well, that is until you roll a “2” which is the cane, and than a “12” for stroke count. To quote my partner,...EEEEEPPPP!!!!

(Another lovely photo, found on Devlin O'Neill and Poppy's Blog)

Ok ok, I agree, that wouldn’t work so well. Again, after a brief moment, we came to the following outcome to our newly devised game.

The roller (usually the bottom / receiver) would get to roll first for as many implements as the players intend on using. [If you can’t decide on this, just roll the dice] Once the implements are known, the roller then gets to start rolling for stroke count. The key here, is that each roll for stroke needs to be assigned to an implement. Once all implements have an assigned stroke count, well use your imagination, or check back for future accounts of how the games turned out.

A few quick thoughts as to gamesmanship.... Let the top (giver) control which sequence the implements are used in, and to what degree. It might be a game with rules, but it is a spanking game, and thus some unknown should be retained. The game isn’t about pain, after all, it is about fun and trying new things. With that, adapt the game as it makes sense. Make all odd #’s flesh (Hand) and even numbers your favorite paddle. Maybe 12 can equal an evil wood spoon, while a 7 is a free pass.

Just have fun, and please remember to comment with thoughts, opinions or recounts as to how the game worked out for you!

Regards,

MrA

Chapter Three - Salvaged!!

2011-06-29T08:23:00.002-04:00

Miracle of miracles! Thanks to numerous very diligent and crafty readers, the Third Chapter of my Spanking Weekend Saga has been restored to life!

Thank you so much to all of those who contacted me with full replications of the post that I thought had been lost forever! You are all amazingly clever and kind! I am still dancing with glee at the fortune of having such a dedicated readership! :D:D

And so, without any further ado, restored to you by your fellow readers, here below is a full replication of the long-lost-but-found-again Chapter Three of the Spanking Weekend!

Chapter Three - All for One, and One for All!

Dear readers! How rude of me to go and leave you hanging like that -- waiting patiently for the next installment of my weekend adventure!

Remember that thing I mentioned some while back about finals? And grad school? Welcome to that TIME. :) My books and papers have now taken over my apartment and are slowly eating me alive!!

Thankfully, I have found a single shining moment to share and I will do nothing less -- we do happily have at least a few more chapters of spanking weekend fun to go!

If you have been following along (hard to do with these long intervals, I know!), you will know that, some weekends ago now, I had the pleasure of attending a spanking weekend event -- my first multi-day spanking experience, in a structured, spanko-centered environment. :D:D

While there, rest assured, plenty of mischief found itself managed. Or should I say, plenty of mischievous spankees found themselves managed...!

One such lucky group, as many of you may have read about in my last post, found itself managed on multiple occasions!

After our escapade in the woodshed, the five of us who had conspired together (some of us much more last-minute than others!) to try to earn a group spanking found ourselves in another sticky situation, this time involving not one, but two Tops.

The two Tops, no less -- the two organizers of the event -- the top of the very top!

How had we gotten ourselves into this mess?!?

Our numbers had swelled by the time they got to us -- our illustrious ranks joined by a well-deserving, mischief-making young man in attendance at the weekend.

It was thanks to him -- and the therefore co-ed nature of our punishment -- that we were all allowed the grace and fortune of retaining the protection of our pants staying up or skirts staying down throughout! (A great big thank you to him for that!!! :D)

We were led, in a line, to the scene of our reckoning: a pool table conveniently big enough for six people to bend over, three on each side. Two huge, bright, imposing lights hung over the center of the table, spotlighting our plight, throwing our faces into clear distinction as we leaned in close to one-another. I wondered, in that moment, if I looked as nervous as some of my compatriots -- their eyes wide and lips tense.

Our punishers circled around us like vultures, eying their catch, straps readily in hand.

The first "Ow!"s reached my ears before any physical confirmation of their source. I saw my compatriot to my immediate left jump, heard her hiss, felt the swish of air from the strap landing on her backside a second time -- not even a foot from me! I knew I was next, then -- when my companion quieted and I felt a steadying hand on my lower back.

Swish--CRACK!

This was my first experience of a strap in the hands of either of these two upstanding Tops -- both were equally worthy of the chorus they produced in us as they rounded the table!

Again and again, a swish and a crack, swish, crack!, the immediate OWs and hisses, one of us would jump and then another at the other end of the table would echo -- our faces flinging up in the light -- marking each punisher's place in the

room at that moment.

I have never been punished with so many others all at once -- the experience of being bent over a pool table as a group of six, and successively strapped by two diligent spankers, was, indeed, truly unique and one that I will remember dearly far into the future.

Did we get more than we'd bargained for? Absolutely! Was it worth every last minute and better than we could have imagined? Most certainly and undeniably so, thanks to everyone involved :D

Thank you all for including me!! :D

Chapter Four - First Day at School

2011-06-26T13:52:00.022-04:00

You may, this fine hour, be sitting there ever-so-comfortably (or not, I hope? :D), reading quietly, and wondering to yourself... "Chapter One, Chapter Two... Chapter Four?? What happened to Chapter Three??"

It was eaten, my dear friends. The treacherously insatiable jaws of Blogger.com gobbled it up mercilessly, before it could breathe more than a single day of life. And alas, much as I tried with all my might to wrench my words back from the abyss, they remain only in the memories of those few who were able to glimpse them in the early hours of their creation.

But life goes on. :D Quite splendidly, in fact!

( See "About" section to the right :D )

To finish up our Spanking Weekend saga -- since so much happened over that weekend that one post, nay, not even two or three posts, would have been enough to do it justice -- We're going to school. The bells are ringing, the bus is moving, classes are about to commence, and you'd better not be late!

Chapter Four - First Day at School

Artwork by Dave Ell, on The Woody Back to School Unit

There we were, all ready for class in our neatly pressed school uniforms (with many varied an interpretation of the word "uniform"...), piled onto our " school bus" and approaching the "schoolhouse." The bell started ringing as we descended our last hill, and pupils scurried in through a line of tutting teachers.

Before even arriving to class, on the online message boards, assignments had already been given out! We were to come prepared to our first class with a sentence written, in legible hand-writing, about the best way to contribute to a proper learning environment in the classroom.

As students settled into their desks, pulling out notebooks, pens, spitwads, gum -- and their completed assignments, it dawned on me that I had never done my homework.

I hadn't written a single sentence! I hadn't thought it all that important!

That is, until I was suddenly surrounded by a cadre of studious suck-ups who had ALL written their sentences!

Quietly, as if diligently taking notes while our first teacher of the morning conducted her class, I cracked open my notebook and began jotting down a suitable sentence.

I even had to copy the beginning prompt for the sentence from my classmate sitting immediately to my right -- a very gracious friend who kept m y secret safe :D

You know what the funny thing is? That was probably the only thing I did all day that actually would have really warranted a spanking -- and nobody noticed!! I mean, I completely got away with not having my homework done ahead of time, and copying half of it from a friend -- right there in the class room!

But as much as it pays to be the quiet invisible one getting away with things in the middle of the room, I still somehow managed to find my fair share of trouble...

You see, through years of primping and perfecting, a time-honored system of dealing with trouble-making had been established for this school, by way of the use of "referrals."

If someone of a Top mind-frame (with a certain color name tag) spotted someone of a Bottom mind-frame (with a different color name tag) doing something worthy of inspection or correction, that Top could then fill out the first half of a referral form, and hand it to that Bottom. The Top writes their name, the name of the Bottom, and the infraction committed. The Bottom can then decide to check one or more of the disciplinary options listed on the form (or come up with their own, if they so desire, with explanation).

I'm sure you can imagine what some of the options may include... :D

This way, because everybody is still kind of getting to know each other, the Bottom has the option of taking their referral to whomever they wish for discipline -- not necessarily the Top who gave it to them, although that is an option, too -- which alleviates a lot of the pressure associated with asking for and orchestrating scenes, for both the Top and the Bottom.

Once the indicated punishment has been completed by the chosen Top for that referral, the Top signs it and it is returned to a box for record-keeping purposes.

I loved that referral system -- it was like walking around with a free spanking pass in my pocket -- all I had to do was hand it to someone I wanted to play with, instead of trying to brat or otherwise get their attention and hope something happens -- or ask for it outright, which is insanely hard to do, and for me sometimes takes away some of the magic of it...

One of the referrals I received was for a simple geographical mistake I somehow made during a team-building class run by one of the weekend organizers (the one and the same assigner of the Etymology Essay I wrote so many months ago...).

I thought it only appropriate to take the referral, written and handed to me by my ever-watchful and helpful partner, back to the gentleman whose "class" I had so rudely disrupted with the original mistake.

He needed no further prompting whatsoever. Just as soon as he had the paper in hand, off we went -- me with more than a little trepidation -- to one of the curtained-off spaces near the back of the room.

You see, between each class period, the whole school implements a 15-20 minute break for the administering of necessary discipline earned during class sessions...!

To my great surprise, upon pulling back the curtain, a giant chair stood there, literally three times as tall as any normal chair one might see on an every-day basis.

"Oh good, it's free. This is my favorite chair." Oh, yes, of course it is... :D :D

Suddenly, I am over his lap, my school blazer ruffled, my plaid skirt flipped up, both my feet and hands far, far away from the ground.

I am truly suspended in midair over his knees!

He is lecturing me about geography, and I am amazed at the difference this chair makes in setting the tone for the scene -- how short and small I feel, in this uniform, over his lap.

Where can I buy one of these chairs?? :D

It isn't long before he is setting me back down on my feet, and instructing that my panties come down. I must have turned the same shade of red as my maroon jacket! (A splendid piece of uniform, by the way, made up by a dear friend, complete with school crest and all!)

I was back up and over, this time with panties joining my knee socks, and swearing that yes, I knew the different between East and West, and yes, I would even be able to recognize North and South if they came along...!

It was after this ordeal, dear readers, that I decided to entice the writer of that very referral back to the same space, enchanting as that extra-tall chair was...

Maybe during my next day at this school, I will be mo re successful. What exactly will that success mean? A better grasp of geography? Perhaps... Or perhaps it will have something more to do with just how many referrals I can manage to incur -- only one way to find out!

Hopefully be seeing you back at school -- very, very soon! :D

Back on Track

2011-06-08T17:27:00.005-04:00

Okay, so perhaps re-writing an entire post from scratch -- one that had already been slaved over and completed and published and even commented on before it was so unfairly lost -- was a little too daunting for me.

I can't stand it when that happens -- when a completed work is suddenly gone. When I complete something, it is because I have put literally hours of time and more than hours of energy and thought into it.

With my blog, each post is like a work of art to me -- so to be faced with having to completely redo one that had already been done was just not working.

Instead, I will switch gears, and share with you some of the major changes that have taken place in my life in the last three weeks, before launching back into the saga of the oh-so-long-ago-now spanking weekend. :D

Firstly, dear readers, after a conglomeration of serendipitous and otherwise highly fortunate events, I have found myself in the loving arms of a partner, every bit a spanko as I am, and we are in the process of taking our first steps in making a journey through life together.

It is an enormous change for me -- many enormous changes -- but it is what I have been looking for, waiting for... He is what I have been hoping to find in a partner -- in someone to share life with. What we have feels like the natural next step in both of our lives -- something to be mutually beneficial and grow as we grow together.

I hope to be writing many more entries detailing the adventures we have -- to start, I will detail for you our very first spanking game, as engineered by our own (mostly his) ingenuity right on the spot! :D

It was evening, some hours before we would both collapse into bed...

In order to be successful the following morning, I needed to find the clothes that I would wear and lay them out so that I wouldn't have to spend half an hour trying to find them when we would already be rushed.

Having already flopped down into bed, I was less than enthusiastic about having to get up and rummage around for clothes.

"What kind of motivation do you need?" By the glint in his eyes, we both knew exactly what was on his mind. To my look of intrigued surprise, he nearly grinned. "Two with the hairbrush for every minute that it takes you?"

My mind reeled -- hairbrushes are by far not my favorite implement...
"I get to keep my jeans on?"

"Yes. Time starts now."

I fling off the bed, and go scuffling around through my things to find what I need for the morning. He makes a good show of not watching, either me or the clock, and nonchalantly minding his own business as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening...

It only took me 2 minutes to find what I needed and lay it out. TWO minutes, dear readers. Who was motivated??

I was so proud of myself for having only earned four strokes with an implement I disliked, and over my jeans! Easy! I had thought it would have taken me closer to ten minutes! Flashes of 20 strokes with the hairbrush cross my mind as he bends me over the side of the bed, and an involuntary I cringe sweeps over my face.

Twenty would be particularly horrible with one of the hairbrushes we have, a heavier one that packs a hard thud -- the one that I am sure he must have gone to get... The one I'm sure he has in his hand behind his back as he approaches me from behind...

Seeing me craning around trying to catch a glimpse of which hairbrush he has chosen, his grin widens and he engages with my curiosity, "How many hairbrushes do we have?"

"Five..."

"Can you describe them?"

"The purple one, the pink one, the little wooden one with ridges in the back, the dark wooden one with a black rubber handle, and the heavier fake-wooden one..."

"Very good."

But he doesn't tell me or show me which he has picked! Little did I know, a dark twist had entered his mind when he realized it had only taken me two minutes, and he presents me with a choice:

"How about double or half?"

Before I can think too much about the math, he continues, easing his new idea into my good graces, "You guess which hairbrush I have, and if you guess wrong, that doubles your number of strokes to 8 -- but then when you guess right, it's back down to 4 again, and so on."

Hmmm...

Remind me, dear readers, never to play math games with this tricksy brainy gentleman. Very treacherous waters!

As I myself had been surprised at the small number of strokes I'd earned, I didn't see the harm in adding in a little risk -- so I agreed. Do you remember which hairbrush I was so sure he had picked?

That wasn't it! I guessed wrong! Suddenly my little four-strokes were, in fact, eight, and I was at a loss -- how could that not have been the one he picked? He knew it was going to be over my jeans, so he wouldn't have picked one of the lighter ones!

My next guess proved wrong, too. Not the purple one we both love -- 16 strokes!

Sixteen strokes! What just happened??

Suddenly I didn't want to play the game anymore, but he held me to my commitment and bid me keep guessing -- apparently the limit to my guesses was five, the number of hairbrushes it could possibly be.

My next guess proved wrong a THIRD time (not the pink one!), and now I was looking at a whopping 32 strokes with the hairbrush over my jeans, from what started as only 4! If I got it wrong again, my total would double to be 64, and my only saving grace would be the last and final guess, the only hairbrush left, that would take me back down to 32.

Here it was, the difference between knocking my total down from 32 to 16 by getting this guess right, or bouncing all the way up to 64 if I got it wrong. Thankfully, my intuitive sense kicked in (finally!) and I got it right -- the wooden one with the rubber handle.

Phew!

16 strokes, and not 32. Still, 16 is four times what I was going to get originally! Serves me right for playing such a dangerous game!

Here's to many more games to come, in our spanking future :D

Blogger Down!

2011-05-14T23:40:00.001-04:00

Hi All!

Apparently Blogger is having some serious issues right now, and ate my latest post (Chapter 3 of my spanking weekend adventure!) It will take me a few days to re-write (or maybe Blogger will be nice enough to restore it??? Please???) -- So in the meantime, please enjoy an intermission and this lovely little photo of a studious young lady, who is also surely working away on her next journal entry! :D:D

Chapter Two - Twice to the Woodshed!

2011-04-28T10:26:00.007-04:00

"What time would you have had class on Friday, were you not skipping it to come to the weekend?"

The Instant Message flashes onto my screen -- only text, but oh so audibly potent.

I can hear his voice in my head, as if he were standing right there behind me.

"1:30pm..." comes my sheepish answer...

"Then I will see you, outside the woodshed, at 1:30pm on Friday."

A shiver runs down my spine -- I'm not even at the resort yet and already lining up punishments!

Is it worth it to skip class? I think so -- definitely -- think about it -- just one class for an entire day of spanko symposium! But, what is worthy of skipping class, in his eyes? What will he use? A trip to the woodshed in itself implies more than just a hand-spanking... Will he use his belt on me? A switch? Some other nasty whippy thing??

I happen to know that this particular spanker owns a carpet beater, and tends to be quite partial to it...

Sure enough, as I approach the woodshed (having arrived 1.28 minutes early only to find him already there waiting), I can see the long handle of the aforementioned implement sticking conspicuously out of the top of his bag. Oh my.

Was it really worth it? Again the question flashes through my brain -- but I am here now, the deed is done, and I am about to pay for it...

Photo by Cia de Foto

We traipse inside, and I am greeted with the sight of at least two constructs suitable for bending over, and one armless chair -- just for good measure, I suppose! I am instructed to hang up my coat, to loosen my jeans, and to bend forward over one of the conveniently available structures. To think, I could be sitting safely in class right this moment...!

He starts with hand-spanking over my panties, all the while scolding about the gravity of skipping class, the importance of education and accountability -- I am certainly being held accountable!

It's not until he has my panties down and an implement out (I cannot even recall what implement, it was such a full weekend!) that he decides to surprise me with another line of questioning.

"So I want to know about this ISF. Tell me the truth."

Now, dear readers, the ISF started out as a group of mischievous spankees attending the spanking weekend who banded together in hopes of, at some point during the weekend, obtaining a group spanking scene. I was graciously offered association with this group after the core group had already formed, and up to this point, most of our mischief had consisted of creating aliases and posting fun-based mayhem on the online forum that serves as a virtual meeting place for many of the weekend's attendees.

We had "sworn" to each other that we would protect each other's identities, while at the same time doing our part to try to facilitate our ultimate goal of a group spanking scene.

So, when he asked me there, while I was bare and reddened and vulnerable and not getting up any time soon, you can imagine the somersaults that my mind began to make! Where did my loyalties lie? Somewhere between solidarity with my friends, and concern for my own behind!

Luckily, he knew exactly what questions to ask so that I would not have to incriminate any of my friends.

"Do you have another name on the message board?"

"Yes, Sir. J___." Now he would know every message that I had ever posted under the name of J___, many of them much more boldly mischievous than I would ever be myself!

"Then I want to see J___ here again, at 9:30pm this evening. Is that clear?"

My reluctant acknowledgment of the second woodshed appointment was followed immediately by the rest of my comeuppance for missing class -- Which turned out to be quite worth it, dear readers (who wants to sit in class when she could be getting spanked?!?) :D And quite mild compared to the events of later that evening!

---

It is 9:27pm, and by now, we have all realized that, somehow, all of us have managed to schedule an appointment for the woodshed at 9:30pm! We set off together, gathering strength from each other and knowing that this is exactly what we knew we'd been asking for, been planning for... but would it be worth it?

We are five in number, standing in a line outside the woodshed, only our coats and each other for warmth. Five faces turn as his footsteps approach, five bodies begin to shift and scuffle, five hearts beating faster.

"In." He ushers us in first, follows, and turns to latch the door behind him.

We are scolded, en mass, admonished for our frivolous behavior on the online forum -- confusing people and causing mischief, interrogated about our false identities, who was our ringleader? Who was the mastermind behind our group? Were we all willing and knowing participants in this plot?

Soon, we are all instructed to line up against one wall -- we briefly jostle for position, those girls who want very much to be either first or last finding their place quickly, those too anxious to make much of a fuss ending up somewhere in the middle. Graciously, and quite responsibly, our leader takes up her post first in line, first to be punished, so that the rest of us can know what is coming.

One by one, we are each hand-spanked with pants down over the structure near the center of the room, those in line listening to the smacks and the yelps with growing anticipation.

When my turn comes, as I knew it would, being third in line, I can hardly even look up.

I see his hand gesturing me forward, and feel my face beginning to flush -- right here? In front of four of my dear friends? I have *never* been spanked in front of this many people before, who have nothing else to do but watch or listen, intently, dreading their own turn!

(Last three photos from Lupus Pictures)

Our plight did not stop at the first round of hand-spankings, dear readers. What had we gotten ourselves into??? Do you remember that carpet beater I mentioned??

Out it came, and, one by one again, down it went on each of our upturned, uncovered bottoms in turn -- accompanied by new-found squeals and squirms!

While our first two members endure their second round, myself and my compatriot immediately to my left (fourth in line, right after me), exchange multiple glances of disbelief and anticipation. We are both "the new girls" -- I need to know that she is okay, and I can see in her eyes that she needs the same from me.

Our discipliner notices our silent communications, I am sure of it -- but kindly allows us this small indulgence, knowing that it will help us both to accept our punishments.

Finally, when it seems that our ordeal is coming to an end, and our brave leader has taken her extra chastisement for her esteemed position in our ranks, I am surprised to see his intimidating hand beckoning to me again!

Why me? What have I done??

Is this supposed to be some kind of grand finale?? When will it be over?

Then I remember: before he'd known the face behind the alias, he had promised J___ on the message board that he would be counting the number of ridiculous posts she'd made, and reminding her of these transgressions when the time came.

Apparently, now was that time!

"How many posts did J___ make?"

I had not counted! I had not wanted to know!!

"Twenty-five! You will count each one." Twenty-five? Really? Was he sure he'd counted correctly!? Had it been worth those 25 posts of fun to deserve more punishment??

SMACK! "One, Sir!" SMACK! "Two, Sir!"

They are coming very quickly -- I hardly have enough time to count! By "Sixteen!" I have dropped the "Sir" just to be able to get the count out fast enough, and by the last three I had earned several extra swats just for lack of ability to keep up!

Five very sore bottoms and a group hug later, and yes, dear readers, in the end, it was quite worth it!

Up next: You didn't think we got away with it that easy, did you?? :D

Chapter One - Spanking Weekend

2011-04-21T22:13:00.003-04:00

This past weekend, I was one of many elated attendees at a spanking event in the mountains -- in a lovely resort staffed by equally lovely spank-friendly people, and well-equipped with many a spanko's needs...

Including a jacuzzi...

(perfect place for making mischief and getting away with it, right?? :D)

A woodshed...

(stocked with bales of hay and even a door lock with a five-letter combination... can you guess what it was??? :D)

A classroom...

(hall passes and class bell included!)

An upstairs office...

(complete with an authoritative desk, an armless chair, and a school desk)

And, of course, plenty of private rooms and play spaces for more behind-the-scenes fun :D

I have an adventure to share with you, dear readers, from each and every one of these places, and more! My next few blog entries will be chronicling some of the most memorable events from my weekend in the mountains with a whole troupe of spanko friends, so stay tuned!

For now, let me say that it was truly a once-in-a-life-time experience, made possible by the SCONY group which I have had the pleasure of coming to know better and better in recent months. :D

Coming up next: Chapter Two - A Trip (or Two) to the Woodshed!

----
School girl art by Kamitora

Impromptu Spanking

2011-04-14T00:26:00.002-04:00

There we were, sitting peacefully around the dinner table.

I was sent to rummage for more wine in the kitchen. Yes, sent. Ordered, detailed, delegated, appointed, what-have-you. :D Gladly :D

(Artwork by Jay Remer, the Etiquette Guy)

While obediently on my way, my hand absent-mindedly found a momentary perch on the back of his head as I passed. I like to do that, without thinking -- the consistency of physical touch is something that flows naturally out of me -- sometimes I have to work to keep it in check.

But in that moment when my fingers made contact with his hair, the previous night flashed through my mind's eye...

..."Go ahead. Grab, and pull. See what happens..."

My fingers are running through his hair as we lay there -- it is short, but still grabbable, if I do it right...

Our faces are less than an inch apart, my nose under his chin, my eyes looking up into his... I want so badly to try, to be impetuous, to "see what happens" -- but I can't do it! He is looking at me, a grin behind his lips, his eyebrows ever-so-slightly raised.

I try several times to drum up the courage -- he even told me to! He gave me permission! And yet, all I can seem to muster is one or two half-hearted tugs, which hardly measure up to the challenge of "grab and pull."

No tempting of fate, no adventurous follies -- at least, not last night...

Suddenly I am back in the dining room, my fingers in his hair, my steps carrying me around to the kitchen behind him...

And I grab -- and I pull...

And I run.

I know which cabinet I need -- it happens to be a low cupboard -- I have to bend down in order to reach it...

But before I can get it all the way open to recover the wine, he is already there, his arm firmly around my waist, holding me in position, his free hand swatting, swiftly and forcefully.

He did not even bother to fuss with any clothing or implements -- just his hand, doling out a sharp and impromptu reminder that certain actions, no matter how spur-of-the-moment, come with consequences...! :D:D

The "Look"

2011-04-08T15:54:00.003-04:00

My "Boss" from the last roleplay scene I did, involving a consistently tardy employee and a traditionally-minded supervisor, featured ever so briefly in one of my dreams last night...

It was just a look. THE look.

Accompanied by the dreaded command, "Come here."

That's all it was!

The dream literally consisted of three seconds of material -- and yet was oh so potent.

What is it about that "look" that is so compelling? -- That instant when you know, deep down to your core: you're in trouble.

You've done it now.

There's no turning back. :D

You are suddenly small, vulnerable, caught, and held deliciously responsible.

It's something in their eyes. But it's more than that -- it's the whole expression, the way it's delivered, the sheer piercing direction, focus, and attention. The purpose behind it.

Your projected, imminent future that is now sealed -- tying the both of you up in an inevitable dance...

On FetLife, there is an "interest" called: "the look that tells you in no uncertain terms that you have crossed the line and earned a spanking."

I think that sums it up rather nicely... :D

Of course, hopefully it's not really a real line -- it's a playful line that still exists within the realm of good-natured fun, or it's an imaginary line facilitated by a role-play situation.

But in either case, it is a line that, once crossed, requires addressing. And that is where "the look" comes in...

Often, the "look" can be accompanied by other telling bodily clues, such as crossed arms, hands on hips, head tilted slightly to the side, a beckoning finger...

Heck, they may even be leaning on the straight-backed wooden chair which is shortly about to be put to use for your benefit! :D:D

As a bottom, what is it about "the Look" that gets you? Do you even enjoy it? -- Perhaps it is not your thing! What feelings does it awaken in you?

As a top, what kind of Look works best for you? What are you trying to convey in such a look? And if you reply, "You already know the answer to that question..." you may be right, but I still want to hear you say it! :D

Weighing Options

2011-03-31T17:45:00.008-04:00

Remember my last new hairbrush? The red, velvety paddle brush??

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have recently acquired aNOTHER new hairbrush! What was I thinking????

I walked innocently into a local pharmacy, looking for something else entirely, stumbled (quite accidentally! They just pop up out of nowhere in those stores!) on the hair accessories section, and was quite amazed to find, not one, but TWO lovely, weighty, broad, straight-backed prospects.

One wooden, with a very nice grip, and one fo-wooden (looks like wood but is something else), and heavier than most other hairbrushes I have ever encountered.

What was a poor spanko to do?

After carefully weighing my options (for about 2.8 seconds), I finally strode right up to the check-out counter with both in hand. The strapping young lad behind the counter must have wondered what on earth any girl in her right mind would be doing that would require TWO hairbrushes...

"Gifts..." I muttered, briefly catching his inquisitive glance and then looking down. Lame excuse, of course -- again, who in their right mind would want a hairbrush as a gift?? :D

But it seemed to satisfy him, at least superficially, because next minute I was walking to my car, two new hairbrushes dangling in a plastic bag at my side.

"Two??" you may be asking... Yes, I did say that I have one new hairbrush, not two. So what happened to the other...??

Well, dear readers, let me tell you: I thought it would be fun (what fun!) to turn my good fortune into a game with a friend I knew I would be visiting soon. It is true, I enjoy finding such perfect implements in every-day innocuous stores, but really, what on earth was I going to do with two hairbrushes? I'm not that crazy!

I immediately texted him to let him know what I had found, and that he would be receiving one, quite truthfully, as a gift -- but that it would be up to him to use whatever means necessary in order to decide which one he wanted!!

Yes, I am sure you all can tell exactly where this is going...! :D

(Lovely drawing found on All Things Spanking)

So, not more than a few days later, there I was, over his lap, while he labored over his decision, weighing his options quite judiciously!

"Hmmm..." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "I like this one, because it is wood, and that definitely carries a certain traditional appeal..."

SMACK! SMACK! "But this one is nice because of the weight... how does that feel?" SMACK! SMACK! "More thuddy, or stingy?"

The evil grin in his voice needs no visual confirmation. He is enjoying himself quite immensely!

"Owwww...oooh both, Sir..."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "Do you need a bit more comparison? Which one stings more?"
SMACK! SMACK!

"Oooh-ahh! That one, Sir!"

"Mmhm I thought it might..." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Whatever possessed me to think that this would be a fun game??

By the end of it, dear readers, my bottom was quite red -- and I was one hairbrush less, but no less acquainted with either one!

He ended up choosing the stingier wooden one (of which I neglected to get a picture before passing it along!), which means I now claim ownership of the thuddier, heavier one that looks quite deceptively like wood, but isn't (pictured at left) :D

In all honesty, this one hurts quite a bit more (deeper impact) -- and therefore I am very happy to be more in control of its use!

Well... at least, to be under the illusion of such control, anyway... :D (Much easier to hide it if I know where it is!!)

Corner Time

2011-03-22T15:24:00.011-04:00

I have been ordered to stand in a corner (in real life) twice in my twenty-some years. Both times as an adult, and both times in conjunction with spanking exploits. Both while bare *blush* : )

The first time was for a solid fifteen minutes.

In the living room.

With big bay windows facing the street (thankfully, a large, full-foliage tree covered most of the view...), and a glass sliding door leading out to the patio in the back yard.

I could see right out into the yard -- it was lined with high hedges, not a soul in sight... (thank god). :)

He was sitting at the table right behind me, shuffling papers and doing work, while I stood there, nose in the corner, red bottom on display -- as if my being there like that was completely normal and matter-of-fact. Something that just happens to naughty girls, no questions asked. *blush*

(The above two photos are both gems that I found on Through Arianna's Looking Glass)

He had just finished spanking me in the room down the hall, after which he had immediately proceeded to haul me through the house, jeans and panties around my ankles, out into the living room, and place me firmly where I stood, informing me that should I move before he told me I could come out, we'd be pulling a chair out onto the backyard patio and he would spank me out there!

In broad daylight!

(As a side-note, we did have a safe-word, and I recognized this as more of an exhilarating threat than an actual possibility -- as he knew very well of the fine line I walk between exhibitionism and concern for my own safety.)

I did not move an inch, dear readers -- I dared not move a muscle!

Every once in a while, I would hear him stop working, sense him turn in his seat, and feel his gaze on me -- nonchalant, as if surveying the clock for the time -- but each time I knew he was looking, by face flushed and I tried that much harder not to move, as the urge to squirm intensified...

(Artwork by Sassy Bottoms)

The second time that I have ever been ordered to a corner, which just happened very recently, was for (thankfully!) a substantially shorter period of time -- but equally as significant :)

Again, he had just finished spanking me. When he ordered me up off his lap, I had immediately pulled my panties up. He pointed across the room and said, "In the corner, pull your panties back down to your knees, hands together behind your back."

With my bottom burning, and still gaining my balance back after being tipped over his lap, it must have been taking me too long to get situated in the corner -- he came over and peremptorily helped position my hands where he wanted them, intensifying my sense of his authority over me.

To keep my panties at my knees, I had to bend one calf out a little -- really not wanting them to drop to my ankles... There's something terribly exposing about feeling them there, so close, and yet not close enough!

I stood there, panties around my knees, my face as red as my bottom, knowing that he was right behind me but not sure whether he was watching or not... Breathing heavily from the very recent spanking, and from pure embarrassment... My mind reeling and heart racing...

(Artwork by Escobar)

It was a least a few minutes. Long enough for my breathing to slow and my mind to quiet ever so slightly. Only then, when he heard me starting to calm down after several long minutes, did he tell me to come out of the corner and lay over the pile of pillows on the bed -- he was taking off his belt...!

Whatever could have possessed me to think that we were done?! Apparently, corner time can serve just as well as "intermission" as it can signal the end of a spanking -- something I will have to remember in future! :D

Charity Spanking Anthology!

2011-03-20T09:13:00.002-04:00

I am super excited!!

The illustrious and wonderfully generous Abel and Haron of The Spanking Writers have decided to organize the publication of a collection of original spanking stories from various writers, the proceeds of which will be donated to charity. They have invited many kinky authors, from many walks of life, to participate -- and I am very happy and honored to be among them!

This will be my first venture into kinky publication (outside of this blog, which is a certain kind of publication in itself...). All of the stories will be original -- written exclusively for this book.

How exciting!!!!

More updates will be coming about this project soon, and you can read more about it on this entry of The Spanking Writers.

The plan is to publish before the end of the year! :D I hope all of you lovely readers will enjoy the final product when it is finished!

St. Patty's Spanking Party

2011-03-17T16:23:00.004-04:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

What better way to celebrate than a St. Patty's-themed spanking party!?

Alright, perhaps March weather necessitates a bit more shelter than the lovely beach scene depicted above (from Februs) -- but don't you just love the look on that girl's face? :D

This past weekend I attended my second SCONY party! You can read, here, about my first encounter with the Spanking Club of New York -- it was truly a pleasure to return! =)

Equipped as I was with an adequate supply of green-tinted attire (not wearing green to a St. Patty's spanking party is like walking right into a spanking!), I still could not manage to get away with anything less than five spankings that night, at the hands of five separate spankers!

One of these fine gentlemen, you'll remember, had detailed to me a 500-word essay only weeks before -- an assignment which I completed in record time and even then, at 3-times the word requirement! (Or so I thought!) If you are curious as to this essay's contents and origins, you can read it here. :D

I had thought, upon submission of my essay, that, if anything, he may be slightly peeved at having to read so many words... Not the case, ladies and gentleman. In fact, allow me to quote for you from his particularly foreboding email response:

"In all, the essay was delightful and I thank you for your clearly detailed efforts that resulted in such a completely and utterly enjoyable piece of reading material.

However, and all that said,... In your essay, only 217 words addressed the assigned issue.

Alas, for you, this well short of the prescribed 500.

We will 'talk'."

What?? You can imagine, dear readers, my utter surprise! I should have known something like this would happen!!

And "talk" we did -- He allowed me plenty of time to acclimate (both mentally AND physically :D...) to the party atmosphere, and then, near the close of the evening, finally approached.

"We have something to discuss."

*gulp*

As I put down my water, he took the lead and steered me to the nearest open cubicle -- made up of tarp and plastic frames, these make-shift privacy cubes lined the walls of the room, each equipped with two chairs inside.

He had me sit first, and stood over me, arms folded, reminding me why this "discussion" was necessary. With particulars out of the way, he ordered me up, sat down himself, and got right down to business.

"Why are your pants still up?"

I must have turned five-thousand shades of red :)

A year ago, dear readers, I would have been positively paralyzed -- I still remember the first time someone (a lovely gentleman whom I met across the water, no less) told me to take my pants down myself... I got as far as putting my fingers on the button, but then he had to get up and do the rest for me, all the while sparing no words about what happens to naughty girls who don't follow directions...

This time, with a little more practice in me, I was able to manage it with only a small hesitation, and almost immediately found myself over his lap, jeans around my knees.

My panties came down, and he started spanking -- by then I was already sufficiently "warmed up," from several other similar encounters through the night, so it pretty much started hurting right from the very beginning!

"How many words was your essay supposed to be?"

I am already squirming. "500, Sir..." It is still so hard to make words come out of my mouth when I am bottom-up, bare, over someone's lap...!

He immediately stops and leans over me, his voice direct and commanding, "Speak up so I can hear you."

"500!" The spanking continues, harder.

"And how many were actually on topic?"

"217, Sir!"

His hand doesn't stop as he goes on to tell me that, while I write very well and he enjoyed reading, I would do better in future to mind his instructions more carefully...

"So, we already know you are good with words. But how are you with numbers?"

Oh nooo!! Math! Spanking and math do not mix!!

"How many words short were you?"

Luckily, dear readers, I had pre-calculated this sum, in the off-chance that he should happen to ask at this very moment, when the last thing my mind is capable of doing is any kind of mathematical acrobatics -- It still took me a moment to recall, however, with my bottom on fire, and knowing full well that a wrong answer would be even further detrimental to my current predicament...

"Two hundred.... eighty-three, Sir?"

"Correct. Just be glad I'm not giving you 283 whacks."

Eeeep! Yes -- yes Sir, I am very, very glad!! Thank you! I promise, next time, you will find the minimum word requirement, and beyond -- even if it takes me a whole novel!

His Hands

2011-03-11T08:08:00.001-05:00

What is the first thing you look at when you see a promising prospect for the first time? When you're walking down the street, people-watching? Male or female, opposite or same gender -- what is the very first thing you tend to notice about a person?

Where do your eyes go first, on a purely superficial level?

Yes, lovely people, we are talking purely, unabashedly, blatantly, and beautifully superfluous -- usually I am much more a proponent of emotional/spiritual/mental connection and all of that -- but that, of course, would come later. Right now, I'm just talking down and dirty gut-reaction physical attention -- what grabs yours in those first few moments?

:D

For my part, my eager eyes go right to his hands. (Or hers, depending on the day... But we'll leave that for another story =D)

It's only logical, right?

I mean... Well. You know what I mean :D

Not only do I notice, firstly, his hands in themselves, but, quite often, I find myself also making mental note of where they are, how he holds them, what they are doing when he is not necessarily thinking about them...

The way a person chooses to carry his hands can say quite a lot about him: his confidence, his comfort level, his personality... Even acting as an indicator for mood -- is he feeling thoughtful, pensive? Is he agitated? Is he feeling easy-going, or tightly-wound and tense?

Recently, I stumbled upon a lovely little compendium of body-language information, all about the placement of one's hands. It's easy enough to find, if you care to look for such things. Now, don't quote me on this -- I cannot verify the sources or the truthfulness of this information, but, all the same, it is certainly quite fun to read...! :D

I will share with you two of my personal favorites:

1) Steepled Hands

"People who are confident, superior types or who use minimal or restricted body gestures often use this gesture, and, by doing so, they signal their confident attitude. It is frequently used in superior/subordinate interaction and it can be an isolated gesture which indicates a confident or 'know-it-all' attitude. Managers often use this gesture position when giving instructions or advice to subordinates and it is particularly common among accountants, lawyers, managers and the like."

It would also be "particularly common," I daresay, among Headmasters lecturing wayward students before administering a caning...

2) "Superiority confidence gesture" (honestly, just who comes up with these names??)

"Superiority/Confidence Gesture - Several prominent male members of the British Royal Family are noted for their habit of walking with their head up, chin out and one palm gripping the other hand behind the back. Not only does British Royalty use this gesture; it is common among Royalty of many countries. On the local scene, the gesture is used by the policeman patrolling his beat, the headmaster of the local school when he is walking through the school yard, senior military personnel and others in a position of authority."

*shiver*
Oh, ...my. :)

So let's hear it, lads and lasses -- what's your guilty pleasure in those first few moments of visual contact...?

Kinky Wear: Over-the-Knee Socks Edition

2011-03-09T19:35:00.005-05:00

I looooove over-the-knee socks. Yes, I said "socks..."

...Not "spanking." Although, if you mistook, no worries: I could very probably say the same thing about that... :D

Besides their obviously thought-provoking name, this item of kinky wear appeals to me on a number of levels.

One could compare them to thigh-high stockings (worth a-whole-nother post, on their own!) -- and yet, they are different.

There is something... I don't know... perhaps a little more innocent? Perhaps more along the lines of "cute" rather than "sexy," in over-the-knee socks? (Although, they can be quite sexy, too!) And while sexy is a good very thing, sometimes, "cute" is more what I am looking for...

Over-the-knee socks are quite versatile...!

Good for both the wintry cold of snowy months...

...and the summery heat of mid-July.

They are fantastically fashionable -- perfect for pairing with skirts, dresses, tunics...

...but can also stand quite well on their own...

They are lovely for a comfy, lazy day, perfect for lounging around the house...

... And yet equally as fitting for a night out on the town!

Depending on one's mood (or company), they can be quite demure...

...or eye-brow-raisingly bold and ostentatious!

They are perfect for outdoor sports!

They can be quite elegant... Simple, classic...

... or spice things up with a little flair!

All-in-all, Ladies and Gentlemen, over-the-knee socks have more to them than a suspiciously kinky name: they are a delightful addition to any kinky wardrobe in need of some definite spank-factor. =D

New Blog! Lea's Corner

2011-03-05T11:57:00.004-05:00

A lovely new blog has joined us in spank-o-sphere!

Hop on over to Lea's Corner at Musings of a Bottom -- she is delightful and has quite lovely taste! Let her know what you think of:

Her most recent post, in which she details an action-packed review of two brand new implements for her growing collection, beautiful paddles from Kitty's Exotic Paddles.

One is shaped like a little guitar!! The musician in me is swooning! :D

Learning to Dance in the Rain

2011-03-03T08:39:00.013-05:00

"It took so long just to feel alright,

Remember how to put, back the light, in my eyes...
But I have grown too strong,
To ever fall back in your arms...
Who do you think you are?
Running 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
Tearing love apart...
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul.
So don't come back for me,
Don't come back at all..."

~Christina Perri, from "Jar of Hearts"

I'm afraid this will be a rather different kind of post, dear readers.

It will uplifting and empowering, because it is about learning enough truth about a damaging past experience to be able to move on, completely and fully, once and for all. But it will also be painful, challenging, and rife with conflicting emotions -- as any journey through the dark places of one's life will be, until finally emerging in the bright light of knowledge and forgiveness at the other end.

I am no longer angry -- neither with myself, for falling so blindly into his trap, nor with him, for deliberately setting it and, knowingly, watching me fall.

I am no longer an empty shell, stripped of my right to an identity of my own -- I have had years to fill up again, with laughter, love, and purpose. With the happiness and strength of friends, family, and lovers... With my own light and exceedingly fulfilling life.

I am no longer confused or disillusioned -- I know now, more than ever, what truth lurked behind his mask, what may have driven him to do what he did, what made me an ideal target.

I accept, wholeheartedly, that I do not need to know why -- it does not matter -- I no longer have to try to rationalize what he did to me, nor how I let it happen. What matters is that I learn, and that I let go.

I am no longer frightened -- I know now, from years of highly positive experiences, that I can be safe and happy in the arms of a dominating man who will not overstep his boundaries in wielding his power over me, who will always respect me as a fellow, equal human being, even as we venture deep into the recesses of domination and submission.

I am no longer weak -- I can see now, the warning signs. I can trust my own finer-tuned instincts and judgments with confidence. I am strong enough, now, to let go -- to trust, to open up, to allow myself the vulnerability that part of me so dearly craves, knowing that I have the tools now to pick myself up and still be me, should I happen to fall again. Knowing that I am my own person, completely and without question, independent of my experiences, positive or negative.

I am no longer trapped -- I am free. My strings are cut, the dark cloud of doubt and derision has flown. I may not be flying high among the stars all the time, but the horizon stretches before me and I am free to create my own journey, no longer slave to the past, no longer slave to him, no longer slave to the guilt and shame I once owned, in a memory.

"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."

Demon --

I am

no longer

yours.

Not in body, not in mind, not in spirit.

I am letting you go -- your grip over me no longer holds, because I have forgiven you, and I have moved on.

"I am the Master of my Fate,
I am the Captain of my Soul."*

I am happy, I am loved, I am strong, I am free.

Thank you, for all you have taught me, and peace be with you, always.

----

*From "Invictus," by William Ernest Henley.

Classroom Role Plays

2011-03-01T20:01:00.009-05:00

Today in class -- where I am learning all sorts of relevant skills for future use in people-professions such as training, counseling, and mediating -- we did some role plays. In this particular instance, we were about to deal with skills pertaining to the design and facilitation of youth programs, and as such, apparently, we needed some warming-up into the mindsets of today's young people.

We split up into pairs, one person became "A," and the other, "B."

"Now, As, you're going to be the parent, in this role-play," came the instruction from our Professor. "Bs, you are the teenager, who's just walked in late for your curfew, to find that your parent, A, has been waiting up for you."

Go ahead, take a wild guess which letter I had. :)

My partner, coincidentally male (which was against the odds, as the ratio of males to females in such a touchy-feely class was quite astronomical), crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at me, clearly preparing for his role, wishing to fully engage in class and earn his participation points.

Oh, how little did he know, dear readers, the times I had played this same role out over and over again in my own fantasies... Of course, always with quite different results than those of our titillating classroom version... :)

Nevertheless, it was definitely a class to remember!

Be Careful What You Order...

2011-02-28T21:28:00.011-05:00

I love having kinky dreams.

If it were up to me, I would dream kinkily every night! Unfortunately, however, my subconscious usually feels otherwise...

Except a few nights ago, when something in my subconscious was telling me that I, desperately, needed a spanking.

I don't brat, dear readers. :) Those of you who know me, either through reading here, or in person, can attest, I am sure, to my purely angelic nature :D But somehow, something let loose inside me that night when my guard was least vigilant, and I got what I'd been hoping for: a kinky dream. Only, perhaps not quite what I originally had in mind...!

Sometime after our botched dream-land hiking trip (as described in this post about the first half of this dream), my bratty friends and I went out to dinner together -- a much more familiar experience for all three of us and our multimillion-dollar ($dream$) backgrounds.

Dream-me knew there would be trouble as soon as we arrived at the over-packed restaurant.

'Ugh, all these people,' I thought to myself in the dream. 'Can't we go somewhere more private...?'

But, grudgingly, I communicated none of this to my friends. Instead, I let the sneer on my face do all the talking about how dissatisfied I was with the lack of exclusivity in our restaurant choice.

When we entered, the host --
an obsequious gentleman, dressed to the nines -- spotted us through the crowd, and immediately disengaged from whichever customer he was dealing with at that moment, in order to approach us: a trio of frequenters he knew, and dreaded, quite well.

"Young Lady, wipe that sour look off your face this instant." --unfortunately, was not what the poor man decided to say.

Instead, he greeted us heartily and we were promptly shown past the long line of all the other waiting guests and straight into the restaurant. My friends and I didn't have to wait, apparently -- and dream-me felt slightly more satisfied that at least this hadn't changed about one of our favorite dining establishments...

As we were led through the restaurant, I kept my hawk-eyes peeled for the perfect place to sit, peering around as if I owned the place. Almost instantly my eyes fell upon a lovely little table, tucked away in a corner near a window. Of course, it was occupied -- but that didn't matter to me: I pointed out the table to our host and fully expected his cooperation in seating us there.

He looked uncomfortable for a moment, and just barely managed to keep the "here-we-go-again" look from showing on his face.

To my disdain, and my friends' shock, he apologized profusely about not being able to move those people in order to seat us at that particular table, and tried to distract our attention by spouting on and on about what a beautiful table he already had waiting for us and how much he knew we would love it...

"Excah-use, me?" I thought, as we reluctantly set off again after our host, "Do you realize, waiter, that I could buy this restaurant and have you fired tomorrow?"

It seems, however, that my dream-self knew how to keep her brattiest thoughts to herself.

Otherwise one of the surrounding customers, a diligently old-fashioned gentleman, perhaps, may have felt compelled to step in and provide all four of us with some much-needed disciplinary instruction...

So disgruntled was I with this series of disappointments, that when we reached the very back of the restaurant, where a specially private little alcove existed just for us (literally, around a corner at the back of this dream-restaurant was a tiny little room all by itself), I was not happy.

It didn't matter that our seats were golden, and upholstered with crimson velvet (and armless). The lush carpeting and ornate oak table, complete with decadent chandelier hanging over us, did nothing to soften my mounting temper.

When a trembling waiter came to take our drink orders, I expressed my dissatisfaction with a stoic silent treatment, expecting my friends to follow suit.

Obviously, a swift, sound spanking would have helped to loosen my tongue -- but alas, this logical procedure was far from our gentle waiter's mind.

Unfortunately for her, one of my girlfriends had been unduly swept-up by the apparent luxury of our special seating arrangements, and as such had failed to notice my mood. She cheerfully ordered an orange juice, and then turned stark-white as the waiter walked away and she glimpsed the enraged look on my face.

And when my friend's drink finally came to our table, she stared uncertainly at it, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, not wishing to incense me any further by making any attempts at consuming the offending order.

The waiter, specially assigned to wait on only our table, could obviously sense the tension rippling through this tiny little space, and stood rather awkwardly nearby, caught between wanting to get away and his duty to take our dinner orders.

And now, dear readers, we reach the height of my dream-land brattishness. I am sure my face while I slept must have reflected the shock with which I witnessed my own audacity during this next scene in my dream...!

In all my silent rage, I reached slowly out across the table, cupped my manicured hand around the glass of orange juice, and, inch by inch, swept it calmly to the side of the table.

I pushed the entire glass right off the edge of the table, dear readers, and sent it crashing to the expensively carpeted floor. The juice spilt everywhere.

Almost as soon as the liquid made contact with the carpet, even my dream-self felt slightly bad about behaving that way. But I covered up my disappointment in myself by projecting it onto the waiter, at whom I simply glared and raised my eyebrows in defiant challenge.

Dear readers, let me show you exactly what should have happened as a result of this outrageous behavior:

Now that, ladies and gentlewaiters, would have been exactly what I'd ordered, both when I decided to push that glass clean off the table, and when I went to sleep that night, wishing for a kinky dream... :D

Assigned an Essay

2011-02-24T11:15:00.004-05:00

Fair warning sent out to all potential Tops/Doms/Dommes/Spankers:

If you, for whatever surely valid reason, decide to take it upon yourself to assign to Miss Rayne Bailey (Yours Truly) a task, big or small, that has anything at all to do with writing, be prepared for a novel!  Break out your bifocals!  Get your reading lamps!  Fix your hot mug of tea, kick back, and settle in for an evening of literary adventure!

Dear readers, the above notice is here-to-for displayed to any and all future writing-assigners, as a result of one such writing assignment, recently detailed to me, by a gentleman I met at the spanking party described in my last post.

During an online group chat, with other party attendees, this fine gentlemen decided to make a comment indicating the interchangeability of two slang terms, and I, rather presumptuously and before I could stop myself, made the mistake of offering to provide him with the etymology of the two terms, so as to illustrate their uniqueness from each other. To my great surprise, he took the bait, and assigned me an essay, minimum 500 words, to be in his inbox by the end of the week!

In my eagerness to please, and my voracity for linguistic studies, (and spurred into creative fecundity by the astute suggestion of another gentleman to add in spanking references wherever possible), I ended up completely overshooting the word requirement (not on purpose!) and concocting, if I do say so myself, quite a titillating bit of literature.

Reproduced for you here below, dear readers, is the very essay, detailing the etymological history, as I found it, of the two slang terms "gangsta" and "ghetto," written for a truly upstanding, dignified, and inexorably kinky gentleman.

Rayne Bailey

Etymology Essay: Ghetto and Gangsta

As per the Urban Dictionary (1), the slang term “gangsta” refers to: “a member of the inner-city underclass, known primarily for being antisocial and uneducated. Also known for ready access to illegal drugs and weapons, and staggeringly poor marksmanship.” One would hope, for many a young lady’s sake, that such “staggeringly poor marksmanship” would not extend to less illegal, more intimate activities for which accurate marksmanship is also a necessary skill… Another definition from the same source claims that a “gangsta” is: “One who willfully promotes and participates in self-serving culture in an effort to project a particular image of 'toughness' or to make oneself intimidating. Willingness to blatantly and horrifically misuse the English language is a necessity.” In no way is the writer reminded, at all, of any toppish gentlemen recently to have appeared within her experience—not, at, all, in any way, shape, or form.

For a slightly more run-of-the-mill definition of the term, one can turn to the more mainstream Webster’s online dictionary (2), which identifies it as simply a shortened version of the word “gangster.” As the title “gangster,” however, has also historically been applied to esteemed members of the Russian and Italian mafia (and also the Japanese, although translated into a different language and therefore less relevant to this discussion), it must be stated that “gangster” and “gangsta” hold two very different cultural histories. Indeed, “mobsters” or “gangsters,” especially those of pop-culture, have tended to be quite well-dressed, well-mannered, and well-versed individuals (the term “well” here being relative)—albeit prone to certain behaviors which could be seen by mainstream society as rather violent. (Here the writer is attempting to refrain from drawing a connection between a “gangster” and the reader himself, who would seem to exhibit many of the aforementioned characteristics of said “gangsters,” including a commendable taste in attire and a certain propensity for rather patriarchal, dominating attitudes toward his female counterparts, not to mention a slightly skewed perception of socially appropriate levels of “violence,” especially in matters relating to and of domestic discipline.)

Now, due to the fact that most documented materials in the world are in fact subject to the wills and wonts of those currently in possession of societal power at the time of their creation (hence the disproportionately bloated records of many a young lady’s supposed “misdeeds” at the hands of her punisher, who holds not only the implement of her discipline but also the pen making official note of her behavior), the above definitions of the underground term “gangsta” must be taken with a grain of salt. They are, in fact, definitions from the point of view of “outsiders” to the particular culture from whence the term itself came into existence. A closer look, then, at the true origins and meanings behind the term, as it is employed by those who created it, would be in order, which would require first-hand interviews with “insiders,” or, “gangstas” themselves. As the writer’s primary concern is for her own physical safety (hence the writing and turning in of this essay with the utmost attention to detail and deadline!), this area of study will be proposed here as a possibility for further research to be done by other scholars in the field who may be more willing to engage in such grassroots inquisition.

As for our second term of concern, “ghetto,” a much more easily accessible body of etymological history is available for study. (Here the writer hopes that the reader does truly appreciate the depths of research which had to be surmounted in order to accurately complete this essay.) The term had its origination during the bygone years of 1605-1615 (when many a disciplinarian still openly spanked his or her partner without fear of social ostracization (3)), in reference to the name of a Venetian island where nation-less Italian Jews were forced to reside, and derived from the Italian verb ghettare, or “to throw.” It is presumed that this act of “throwing” in fact alluded to the throwing of the Jews out of Italy, and not, indeed, to the throwing of a naughty young lady over a dignified Italian gentleman’s lap, be she Jewish or Gentile. (Here the writer wishes to inform the reader that she is in fact Jewish, and therefore not averse to making light of such situations.)

With these origins, one can easily see how the term then came to be applied throughout the centuries to other cramped and deplorable urban areas where dislocated peoples, usually Jews though not always, were forced to live in close quarters, with limited economic opportunities, aka: “an impoverished, neglected, or otherwise disadvantaged residential area of a city, usually troubled by a disproportionately large amount of crime." (4) Considering the close relation, so far, between the two terms “gangsta” (subject and/or object of crime, product of “inner-city” life) and “ghetto” (locus operandi of crime, synonym of “inner-city”), one can easily see how the reader may have become confused and come to view the two separate concepts as interchangeable. The pointing out of this syntactical blunder is in no way meant to reflect upon the intellectual strength of the reader, as such a mistake is quite understandable, and should therefore not be taken as a slight of any shape or form upon the reader from the writer, please and thank you, Sir.

One further area of study begs our attention—no, not that kind of begging, nor that kind of attention, Sir—that of the colloquial use of both terms as adjectives, rather than merely as nouns (such as “spankable,” rather than “spankee”). When one refers to a person or an object or a situation or really any feasible subject of conversation as “gangsta” or “ghetto,” as in: “that shirt is so gangsta, Mr. R*,” or “that carpet beater is so ghetto, Mr. L*,” what does one actually mean? (Here the writer wishes to reiterate that the above examples were merely that: examples, and in no way meant to reflect the true thoughts, feelings, opinions, and/or views of the writer.)

Again, Urban Dictionary comes to our rescue: according to this valuable resource, when someone refers to something as “gangsta,” they are in fact meaning something along the lines of “stupid,” “fake,” or even “moronic,” and therefore in fact would probably never be referring to the reader’s shirt, unless of course they were looking for a “helluva lotta trubble.”

Conversely, though related, the term “ghetto,” when employed as an adjective, is defined as, “jury-rigged, improvised, or home-made (usually with extremely cheap or sub-standard components), yet still deserving of an odd sense of respect from ghetto dwellers and non-ghetto dwellers alike.” (Thus, for example, the “odd sense of respect” for Mr. L’s aforementioned implement of choice, by both givers and receivers alike.) It stands to reason that anything made in a “ghetto”—a place of little resources and therefore ubiquitous resourcefulness—would by necessity be “ghetto”: “improvised” or “home-made.” Rather like some of the lovely homemade spanking implements that the writer has had the pleasure of seeing and experiencing (granted, these generally have in fact been “jury-rigged” with copious amounts of masterful skill and craftsmanship).

Our friend UD (5) also provides us with some illuminating example sentences of the adjective “ghetto” in common use, such as, “Why you always be talkin' ghetto? Get yo'self a propa' e-ju-ma-kay-shun, kid!” (Such “propa’ e-ju-ma-kay-shun” of course referring to one involving the uninhibited use of the cane, tawse, and/or paddle for maintaining proper classroom order.) And, “A TV Guide duct-taped to a 4 foot stick?! That's one hella ghetto 'mote control!” Notice, the 4-foot stick is here referred to as a “hella ghetto ‘mote control,” not a “hella ghetto ‘mplement ferspanking,” such as a carpet beater, or a FES.**

After some in-depth research and reporting, it is the writer’s hope that it has now become clearer to the reader that the two slang labels of “ghetto” and “gangsta,” even when used loosely as colloquial terms of description, are in fact entirely separate and autonomous entities, with separate, albeit related, etymological histories and usages. The writer thanks the reader very much for his time, energy, and patience, and begs—yes, that kind of begging, Sir—his forgiveness should any part of this essay have caused any undue and/or unintended offense and/or related unpleasantness (and also humbly requests a very reasonable exemption from chastisement in response to any form of typo or other grammatical inaccuracy, as a simple red pen would rectify the matter). The writer wishes to assure the reader of her unfailingly good intentions, and her ever-present wishes merely to please, rather than to incite—also two very separate modi operandi for accomplishing, hopefully, similar ends (6)… =)

(1) http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=gangsta -- a truly enlightening source for English colloquialisms.

(2) http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/gangsta -- another useful literary reference, for most commonly-used terms, though not all (indeed, the writer was surprised to find an entry for “gangsta” here at all…)

(3) A term here made-up by the writer, due to its dire need for, and unfortunate current lack of, legitimate existence as a viable word in the English language. Much like the term “spanko.”

(4) Also as per the ever-faithful online Urban Dictionary.

(5) UD – Urban Dictionary, for those in need of acronym translation.

(6) A spanking, for those in need of overly subtle girl-talk translation.

---

And that, ladies and gentleman, was my 500-word minimum etymology essay! *Mr. R - the reader/assigner of the essay, and *Mr. L (incidentally the same gentleman who made the spanking-references suggestion :D) have both generously consented to be mentioned here in conjunction with the essay.

Do hope you have enjoyed reading! It is rare that such literary opportunities come my way -- and it has been a pleasure to share this one with all of you :D

**FES here refers to an implement of choice for the reader himself -- a particularly intimidating leather strap which he tends to save, so I am told, for special occasions...

Shall We...? :D

2011-02-21T09:08:00.008-05:00

One ballroom, complete with grand piano, tables, chairs, and a smorgasbord of delicious potluck-ed sustenance...

Six hand-constructed tarp privacy cubicles, lining the walls, each equipped with at least two armless chairs...

40-some-odd Spankos from all manner of persuasions milling about to the tune of -- no, guess again, that's not applause.

It's a little sparser, a little more rhythmic, and accompanied by the occasional -- what was that? A muted squeal? A stamping foot?

Yes, my dear friends, it's a spanking party!

While the more social (or just the more peckish) congregate in the center of the room to chat and snack, the more industrious of the evening are either hauling or being hauled off to a "private" cubicle to either administer or reluctantly? eagerly? receive a spanking. Their privacy only extends to the visual realm, however -- the tarp does very little to conceal the tell-tale sounds of what is really happening behind those curtains... Thus the music kept at mid-volume throughout the room, to help deter outside ears from becoming too curious...!

This particular party is a monthly occurrence, and as such, draws some regulars in along with the new comers like myself. At first I'm not sure how it will go... I am eager to play, yet hesitant to initiate, unsure of how to handle invites, shy in conversation...

One of the kind souls with whom I'd made acquaintance before the party (a highly recommended pre-party course of action, by the way, to meet with one or a few party-goers in a public space beforehand) described it to me as a dance -- "It's your dance card, you fill it how you see fit."

And what a dance it was!

Spot a kind face, a strong hand, a smart look... Make eye contact... Smile.

Slowly approach, as he mirrors you... Reach out... Shake hands -- right now, you're equals. Exchange your names, scene or otherwise... Your greetings, polite, well-mannered.

Wonder if he has caught the glimmer in your eye. Dance around the subject as much as you like... by now, you both know where you're headed.

He offers his hand, with a grin, and an inviting, "Shall we?"

And when you place your hand in his, you give him permission to lead.

But he is not leading you to the dance floor. No, he is leading you away from the rest of the room, into a small space, where a chair awaits him, and his lap awaits you.

He leads and you follow, giving way to the steps of the dance, a rhythm you both know by heart, body, and mind.

"I could have danced all night."

You perform this dance again and again, with variations, different partners, but always the same tune. Time flies -- before you know it, the midnight chime has struck, and you must return to your carriage, back to every-day life, memories of the night still alight in your eyes.

Now that, dear readers, is a spanking good time!

I needn't have worried. :) As one of several new spankees in a sea of spanking fun, I could hardly stay out of the cubicles for longer than to steal a quick glass of water!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I ended up over a different gentleman's knee...

4 times that evening.

Do you remember the last time you were spanked 4 times in one night?? :D I do! And by the end of the evening I was sure I would be remembering it for at least a few weeks! : )

Chair Art by Lidia Shaddow
Cocktail Party Art by Eric (1944)

I Need a Spanking

2011-02-18T15:04:00.016-05:00

In my dream last night, I was a class-A, thoroughbred, absolute brat!

Those who know me will be just as shocked as I was, while having the dream, about my dream-time behavior. This is so not like me! I have no idea where this prudish, insolent dream-me came from!

Clearly, I am in desperate need of a spanking,
and my subconscious knows it.

First, I and two of my friends (who were equally rude, though I was clearly the leader of our brat-pack) were on a hiking trip in the mountains somewhere.

Why we were hiking, and not lounging in some grand villa somewhere in the tropics sipping champagne, or off getting our hair and nails done, eludes me...

...In the dream all three of us were rich enough to never work a day in our lives and still live plentifully on millions.

And we knew it.

True to my role as silly spoiled rich girl stuck in the mountains, I was whining and complaining loudly through the entire excursion, with my friends behind me the whole way to support my needs. I demanded frequent stops and breaks even though we were hiking with a group of at least ten others whom we did not know, along with a single (quickly wearing) guide. Consistently, I made perfectly clear to everyone what a miserable time I was having.

Apparently, I needed to be spanked.

Whenever our guide refused to stop the whole group, I got my way by pretending to faint, and threatening to sue him for over-exhaustion, dehydration, negligence to our health and safety, and downright rudeness.

Clearly, my attitude needed adjusting.

You can imagine, dear readers, how relieved our guide must have been when, not half an hour into our hike, I finally demanded to go back. I was done, done, done with all this g**d*** exercise, this ridiculous, horrid-smelling vegetation, these terribly unforgiving rocks, and all this disgusting dirt. (In reality, I love hiking and being outdoors!)

(Above: Model - Autumn Lynn)

Until he realized that he couldn't let me or my friends go anywhere on this mountain, even back down, alone. Images of the lawsuits that would follow must have gone swimming frighteningly through the poor man's brain.

But when he gritted his teeth and told me that my friends and I couldn't go back down alone and that he was not about to turn the whole group around just for us, this new bratty dream-me exploded, and, like loyal proximity bombs, my friends quickly followed suit.

It would seem, dear readers, that I, really,
need a spanking.

Ten bewildered hikers stood staring in shock at these three brat-tastic rich girls throwing a fit on the side of a mountain. Even our guide seemed dumb-struck, at a loss for what to do next.

One brave, kind soul -- a more experienced hiker in the group -- volunteered, for the sake of everyone else, to guide us back down.

My dream-self muttered spitefully, "About time!" in thanks, and proceeded to huff off in the wake of this annoyingly patient, amused young hiker, pursued in the same manner by my friends.

Knowing it was so sorely needed, the responsible young man should have stopped and thoroughly spanked all three of us right there on the mountain, the moment we were out of eye-sight, though not ear-shot, of the rest of the group!

But alas, last night's dream seems to have been all about reasons, and no rhyme, dear readers.

And what happened next? The second-half of my dream-land adventure into brat-dom is enough to fill another post on its own! Thus, it shall have to wait until next time... : ) But meanwhile, dear readers, just remember...

There are some who say that dreams are based, at least somewhat, in reality. I know, for dead sure, that I am not this class of brat (at least not yet...).

So, that leaves us with only very few options for the kernels of reality in this dream... one of which being, as I'm sure you'll agree, the cold, hard fact that, regardless of my dream-land or real-life behavior...

I need a spanking.

Must See: Through Arianna's Looking Glass

2011-02-17T13:57:00.012-05:00

On Valentine's Day, Arianna, of Through Arianna's Looking Glass, shared a truly lovely post about her and her partner's journey thus far through their years together, and especially this past year, as both have begun to embrace a very different, yet somehow much more authentic, type of relationship.

Always so beautifully evocative, featuring tenderly crafted, intricate tapestries of words and images, Arianna's posts are, time-and-again, truly exquisite. I just couldn't go without sharing this particular one, it resonated so powerfully for me.

A brief excerpt, from Arianna's Valentine's Day post, "Five million seven hundred eighty-one thousand six hundred minutes," to whet your appetite -- and then please, do read for yourself the entire lovely post by following the link above... :D

"...You, wonderful man, have done just the opposite. You embrace and love who I am. You make me feel adored. Yes, you spank me. And when you do, it makes me feel small and vulnerable. It makes me cry; sometimes it makes me see a girl who behaves in ways I do not always like. But more often than

not, it makes me see that I am a woman worthy of love. You spank me to make certain that I know you are in charge and that you will take care of me. It is not a power grab on your part. You spank me, knowing that I will relax when you are done because I will know that you are in control. You make me feel safe..."

Girls Will Be Girls

2011-02-15T19:34:00.011-05:00

Many readers may remember St. Trinian's School for (Bad) Girls, both the most recent movie (which is delightful, by the way :D), and the fantastically illustrated collection which inspired the films (masterpieces of the accomplished artist, Ronald Searle).

Many readers may also remember that, to kick off a fanciful discussion of said illustrations, I paid a moment of tribute to the lovely adage, "Girls will be girls," as so beautifully depicted by Searle himself as the cover for a novel by Arthur Marshall of the same title.

This phrase is particularly special to me because, as many may point out, it is usually used as "Boys will be boys," much in the same way that so many time-honored spanking stories (particularly those involving schools) featured boys, rather than girls, getting in trouble and facing consequences. While I can relate easily enough to a young male spankee in a school-themed story, it is always a surprise and a pleasure when I happen to stumble across something of the same or similar time period written from the perspective of a spankee who shares my gender! :D

Little did I know, dear readers, that my musings on the subject, and my innocent posting of the above illustration, would lead to a surprise gift from two of my dearest friends in the spanking scene, Abel and Haron of The Spanking Writers.

What did I find in my mail recently but the very book, "Girls Will Be Girls," by Arthur Marshall himself, published in 1974, an original edition.

Happily turning the pages of the delightful volume brought to my senses not only literary images of many-a-girl in many sticky situations, but also the crisp, awakening scent of the time-honored leafs in an old book -- the incense of a library... I love books!

Inside, one can find a world of hilarity and popular culture, as per British 1970s and much earlier. From Isadora Duncan to Diaghilev, from Virginia Woolf to Stanislavsky, from Chopin to Beethoven, Marshall makes liberal use of classical references...

From India and Japan to France, Spain, Germany, and Switzerland, from Los Angeles and Venezuela to Sarajevo, our girls' adventures hop around the planet in pell-mell worldliness...

Common and classic tourist and school field-trip stops include Wimbledon, the Eiffel Tower, Buckingham Palace, and Eton, the last of which features (of course) more than once...

From churches and cathedrals to parades, O.T.C. camp, and submarines, from lacrosse to hockey to cricket, from three-inch heels and knitted sweaters to flutes, fire alarms, and ginger snaps, the activities and loci operandi of our girls run the gamut!

All manner of school-related happenings and players come into view, from school songs to punishments, from Housemasters, professors, Matrons, and Headmistresses to schoolgirls, prefects, and head girls...

And from Earl Grey tea, Victorian etiquette, and the "Edwardian social scene" to “freer ‘American’ manners,” from the B.B.C. to Shakespeare, and Javanese princes, police, and musketeers to dukes, earls, barons, and baronets, the variety and multiplicity of cultural references rampant in this short novel proves to be quite dizzying!

A few of my favorite quotes from "Girls Will Be Girls" include, as early as page 30, "A Schoolgirl in Switzerland is a riot of violent wiggings* from the headmistress and stern punishments..." (Marshall provides prolific reviews of "Books for Girls" in this work, with comments on upwards of 70 titles.)

On page 133, "Though this year's schoolgirl stories are milk-and-water when compared with the Brazilian glories of yesteryear, there are indications that authoresses are once more concentrating on the sensible, basic subjects such as lying, cheating, [and] squabbling..." All of which, I daresay, incur exactly what kind of consequences...? :)

Then on page 153, Marshall is on a role when he writes about Richard Wortley's Pin-Up's Progress: "There is a sufficiency of... bare, female buttocks, so especially dear to the male heart... Why were naked bottoms found particularly aphrodisiac when closely associated with bicycles? The leather saddles, perhaps?..."

And then goes on to describe why "White knickers are best for photographic purposes..."

Perhaps one of the juicier morsels, however, turns up a few leafs earlier, on page 150: "Though Victorian guilt about sexual activities is with us still, it was paradoxically the heyday of special treats, thwackings particularly... Sadism was rife. Daughters were regularly whipped, their fathers helpfully suggesting improved methods: 'Nothing like leather! Cut a strap into strips and let your governess lay your daughter down upon an ottoman after evening prayers..."

Goodness gracious! What a fantastically wonderful compendium of literary frivolity! :D Thank you, oh so much, dear Abel and Haron, for this timely and truly inspiring gift :)

P.S. I can't go without mentioning for you, dear readers, the lovely card which accompanied this present: an inspiration in and of itself! :D

*"wigging," for those in need of British slang translation, can be seen as synonymous with "reprimanding" or "scolding." : )

Bicycle painting by Joop Moesman,
Card illustration by Lynn Paula Russell

Punished for Being Late to Work

2011-02-06T22:52:00.010-05:00

She knocks on his door, cautious, but not overly.

She'd only been a few minutes late, after all.

Only, for some reason, he'd asked specifically to see her in his office -- something he'd never done before with her, and had only done with other employees on very rare occasions.

"Come in."

If the stern sound of his voice hadn't set her on edge, the look he fixed upon her as she entered certainly did. His eyes were steel, unyielding -- yet somehow warm. In the moment of induced silence after she shut the door behind her, she felt her eyes drop to the floor under his accusatory gaze.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Bailey?" By the end of this question, his eyebrows have raised in expectation.

Had she really been that late? Had she done something else worthy of this kind of inquiry? Conscious of the stretching silence, she answers uncertainly, not wanting to further incriminate herself. "I think so, Sir?"

"You think so?" His answer is immediate, and dissatisfied.

"You are here, because of your consistent tardiness. Do you think coming late to work is okay? And you were late again today, you know that?" He is standing now, bearing closer to her with each sentence, making her more and more conscious of the fact that the closed door rests solidly behind her, leaving her nowhere to run, no room to conserve the dignity of personal space. The closer he comes, the more she must look up in order to meet his eyes—he towers nearly a foot over her modest 5’ 4”.

"Yes, Sir, I know, but --"

"No excuses. You know you've been late six times in the past three weeks?? That's practically every other day!"

He's been keeping track?? She hadn't realized that he'd been so concerned with her time of arrival -- that he'd been paying close enough attention to notice it consistently, among so many other employees.

"By all rights, you should be put on suspension from work." He looks away from her as he says this -- it is obvious that he doesn't like the idea any more than she does.

"No, Sir, please -- I'm sorry!" A suspension would look terrible on her professional record!

“You’re sorry.” The whirring gears in his mind glimmer through the thoughtful look in his eyes as he weighs his options—options as yet unknown to the unfortunate employee now standing distressed in his office. He makes to move away from her, back over toward his desk, but takes less than a step before he’s made up his mind. “Saying you’re sorry just isn’t good enough, Rayne.”

She is wringing her hands now, not yet resigned to the frightful idea of a suspension—how would that effect the rest of her career? How would she pay her bills in the meantime? What would she tell her coworkers?

“But I am not going to suspend you.”

A deeply relieved sigh escapes unwillingly from her tensed lungs… thank goodness. His eyebrows rise again at her slip in decorum, but he lets it pass.

“Instead, I’m going to spank you.”

It is several moments before her brain can fully wrap itself around his words, and their implications. All she can do is blink several times, frozen. He’s going to what? Spank her?… What does he mean? How is this even an option?...

But he is speaking again before she can regain her bearings, making the most out of her temporary state of shock. “Have you ever been spanked before, Miss Bailey?”

She finds it easier just to answer his questions, while still gathering her thoughts, “Not for a long time…” Her mind reaches back to a few childhood spankings that she can remember receiving on rare occasions from her parents. But that was close to 15 years ago now…!

“Well, seems like you need a refresher. Come over here.” He is settling himself into an armless chair near his desk, turned to face her—even while seated, his head is merely inches below hers where she stands.

This is all happening so fast! “Sir…” she is having trouble forcing her body to obey.

“Here.” His peremptory tone accompanied by an equally commanding gesture to the space directly in front of him gives her the fuel she needs. As she approaches, he swings his left knee outward, and before she can fully realize what is happening, all she can see are his ankles and the hardwood floor, all the blood in her torso is rushing to her face, and her hips are positioned squarely over his left thigh.

The spanking starts immediately—he’s not kidding!

His hands, proportionate to his height, are wide and heavy. One is wrapped firmly around her waist, and the other is spanking her over the seat of her pants, hard and fast.

More out of shock at this new, painful sensation and exceedingly vulnerable position than any real distress (yet), her feet start to come up off the ground, her knees bending more with each impact of his hand on her quickly warming bottom.

He is ready for this. Not more than five or six hard swats in, and he is already placing his right leg over hers, pinning her legs down, denying her the privilege of even limited mobility.

This is serious.

She cannot believe this is happening. What grown woman gets spanked at work? How soundproof are these office walls? Why hadn't she realized that he cared so much about her work performance?

"Do you realize that people depend on you here, Miss Bailey? Do you know that when you are late you are making them wait for you? Do you think that's acceptable behavior?" His scolding is making her feel even more like a child than she already does, over his knee getting spanked.

She is retaliating before she can stop herself, "It was only 5 minutes!"

"Only 5 mi-- get up!" The abrupt halt in spanks which had been raining down on her only moments before allows her to realize just how much this is starting to hurt. Once released, she finds her feet again as quickly as possible, unable to meet his eyes, her heart racing, somehow sure that she's just made a mistake.

"Lower your pants, and quickly."

Her face is turning beet red as she obeys, shocked beyond belief now -- barely able to breathe out of alarm and embarrassment.

She is back over both of his knees now, her pants down around her knees -- but it is only a matter of seconds before a new development takes place: apparently more peeved by her retort than she'd realized, he suddenly pulls her panties down, too, all of half-way down her thighs. An involuntary whine issues from her throat, as an even deeper wave of embarrassment floods over her.

"Complaining, now?" His hand on her bare skin, just as hard, just as fast, reminds her of just how protected she'd been with her pants still on.

"Nooo..." she can barely keep the whine out of her voice as the spanking builds velocity.

"No what?"

"No, Sir!"

A volley of purpose-driven spanks forces a squeal out of her as she tries her best not to squirm over his lap.

"I want to be sure you won't be late anymore, Rayne. Don't you? Why shouldn't you be late?" His ability to scold and to spank at the same time, with vigor, is astounding to her... while she is struggling to keep her thoughts in coherent order.

"Because... ahhhhhh...!" but the constant SMACK of his hand on her bare bottom is making it very difficult for her to string the right words together.

Satisfied at least with her attempt, his pace continues as he prompts further, "Because people are depending on you? Because you have responsibilities here? Because you shouldn't keep people waiting, right? Is that why?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"And what can you do to make sure you won't be late in the future?"

This time, he slows very briefly, allowing her to gather her breath, and her words. "Go to bed earlier?" comes her suggestion, a desperate attempt at ending this barrage.

"Good idea," and he is back to spanking again, causing her to squeak and squirm. "What else?"

Her brain is still in motion, still reaching, grasping for opportunities to stop the pain now mounting under his heavy hand, "Lay things out the night before--" But it does nothing to cease the spanks, he merely nods and continues, commenting on her new-found ability to suddenly come up with such great ideas!

Without warning, his pace triples in speed and she is hard-pressed to keep from crying out too loudly -- but the quickened volley of 15 or so is only a precursor...

"Up." She needs a few extra moments to find her balance this time, her hair messed, her hands reaching down in an automatic attempt to conserve even the smallest level of dignity at keeping her pants from falling to the ground. She need not have bothered, however, because no sooner had she stood than he followed her, walking beyond her to a cupboard across his office.

"Bend over the desk. We're not through yet."

Her bottom burning, her face flushed, she finds no strength to resist, although curiosity gets the better of her as she tries to peer over her shoulder at what he seems to be pulling out of the cupboard.

"Don't look back -- eyes straight ahead."

His movements behind her set her senses on hyper-alert.

"You're going to get the strap, Miss Bailey, do you understand?"

Luckily, he takes her concerned whimper for a 'yes.'

"And you're going to count. Three for each time you've been late. How many is that?"

Now he's asking her do to math??? Her pants and panties are down around her knees, her bottom is bright red, she's bent forward over his desk in his office, anticipating more punishment, and he wants her to practice multiplication??

"18?" the answer comes out as a question, in part due to her uncertainty in her own logical abilities at the moment, and in part due to her slight surprise at the rather large number.

"That's right. You'll count each, and you will say 'thank you' after each one, is that clear?"

"Nnnn yes, Sir."

WHAP! The first comes as a slight surprise -- but it doesn't hurt as terribly as she had feared it might. "One, thank you, Sir."

His scolding continues throughout the strapping. WHAP! "Two! Thank you, Sir." He reiterates the reasons she should not be late for work, WHAP! his concern with her conduct, WHAP! his intention to bring her here again on the drop of a hat if it were to happen again.

WHAP! "Five, thank you, Sir..." He repeats the preparations she had cited earlier to keep from being late again, WHAP! admonishes her for letting it get to this point, WHAP! and assures her that he will be watching very closely in the coming weeks to make sure her behavior improves. WHAP! "Eight! Thank you Sir!"

"Will you be late again, Miss Bailey?" WHAP!

"No, Sir! Nine, thank you, Sir..."

"Halfway there." His voice is steady, almost reassuring.

Each stroke is harder than the last, so that by the time they reach the later teens, her counting has become slightly irregular. WHAP! "Sssssssssixteeeeen... Thank you... S-sir..." WHAP! "Sev-teen! ThankyouSir!"

WHAP!! His last is so hard, she can't keep from yelping and hissing before making her count, and bringing her punishment to a close.

"Now, pull your clothes back up, collect yourself, and go back to work. I don't want to see you in here like this again any time soon, Miss Bailey."

Do you wear Pants, or a Skirt?

2011-02-03T06:30:00.018-05:00

You've connected through some form of internet, be it a blog, spanko-site, forum, or chat...

You've exchanged communiques, be they short, long, detailed, or fanciful...

You're planning to meet, be it for drinks, lunch, ...or spanking...

So... What do you do when you meet a new potential play partner for the first time?

Do you brat,

...or do you play nice?

Do you dress up,

or dress down?

Do you offer... drinks?

Do you drum up enough courage to wear things that you know are

sure to provoke?

Do you spend forever
getting ready?

Or do you run out the door in your best effort

not to be late?

Do you wear pants...

...or a skirt?

And what about underneath...?

Are you more forward,

or do you let him
make the

first move?

So many things to consider for the first spanking with a new partner in this fantastically unique little spanko-world of ours! :D

Wishing you great luck and enjoyment choosing your own way, and hoping to make many of these choices myself, too...!

Spanking: The Ultimate Motivator?

2011-01-18T18:50:00.006-05:00

Does spanking really improve productivity?

I think it definitely depends...! :D

Do the spankee and spanker have a mutually benefiting, respectful, and honest relationship, for example? Have the conditions and boundaries of the situation been carefully planned and agreed upon by both parties?

Michael from "The Office," ever the motivating innovator, put this question to the test one day in his own work setting, leading to quite intriguing behavioral changes in his staff... : )

Teach You A Lesson

2011-01-14T17:22:00.004-05:00

Before launching into this afternoon's celebrity-themed entry, I would like to extend warm thanks to Chross for his link to my most recent post about my most recent spanking :D It is always exhilarating and nerve-wracking to write and publish about such personal experiences -- and the recognition is very much appreciated :D

Now on to today's lesson...! :) (in Kink-Detection!)

I have made mention before of my suspicions regarding the hidden (or not-so-hidden) kinkiness of certain celebrities...

This time, our detective-like attention falls, quite deservedly, on the vocal artist Robin Thicke.

Mr. Thicke first caught my attention with one particular song released on his 2007 album, Evolution of Robin Thicke.

"Teach U A Lesson" includes lyrics like:

You were late to school,
I'm gonna have to see you after class.
You've been a bad girl,
Someone's gonna have to teach you a lesson...

Not quite convinced yet? Me, either, which is why I went looking for this -- a clip of Thicke performing this song live in Amsterdam, in which he provides some non-verbal clarification for the above lyrics. If you watch, it takes all of about 25 seconds to ferret out a snippet of kinkiness -- much to the delight of the ladies in the crowd! :D (Hmm, I wonder what they were excited about??)

Now, if you are still a bit skeptical, I can understand. :) It wasn't until I stumbled across this lovely back-stage photo myself that I finally decided Mr. Thicke was one for my "Men in ShowBiz Who Would Spank Me if I Asked Them" list.**

And the smoky seductress over Thicke's knee? None other than Rihanna herself, one celebrity whose kinky exploits are, in fact, much more easily discovered... :D

**For the record, I do not actually have such a list -- yet. Perhaps I should start one! :D

At the Top of the Stairs

2011-01-12T11:53:00.006-05:00

I am shy. Especially now in this tight black dress, the tops of my thigh-high stockings left visible by its shortness, my heels rendering me vulnerable and, somehow, powerful at the same time...

When you bid me, "Come here," I take only a few steps closer. Then you fix your gaze on me, stern yet comforting -- you point firmly to the ground right next to your feet, and repeat, "Here."

I am close to you now, yet cannot meet your eyes. Because, yes, I do know what is going to happen to me now -- I do know that you are going to spank me, that you are going to lift the back of my dress, as you are doing right now, and remind me of the reason I came to meet you.

"Look at you in your cute little black panties," the grin in your voice is unmistakable.

Your palm, warm, larger than my own, rests there over my panties, your fingers on my skin -- your voice in my ear telling me what naughty girls deserve... It's a wonder that I can even remain standing upright. : )

That's when you motion to the stair railing, and instruct me to bend over, "all the way," with the rail positioned perfectly under my hips. I have a view of the entire front foyer from here, at the very top of the stairs.

Only a moment passes for me to take in my predicament, however, before your hand drives my body forward, and my mind backward -- it's happening now, again and again -- my upturned bottom is vulnerable, my dress is too short to cover anything in this position, and you are standing there right behind me, spanking me.

My fingers can curl no tighter around the railing posts, my hips can turn no further upward nor press any more firmly against the wooden banister, and still you spank me, the sound of it echoing down the stairs and through the hall, right to the front door.

If anyone happened to walk in at this moment, cheeks red from the winter chill, they would be greeted with the sight of an equally red-faced naughty girl, being punished over the railing at the top of the stairs.

Suddenly, you order me up, and against the wall nearby.

Head and shoulders on the wall, back arched, hips out and up. Hips out -- up more, little girl.

Now, when you spank me, I don't have a railing to rely on -- I have to hold position myself. Your left arm around my waist lends me strength, while at the same time exacerbating my sense of exposure -- reminding me of your intense focus on one particular area of my body. With my hips up like this, each spank reaches me in a deeper place. I can feel my legs inching slowly further and further apart, as if acting with a mind of their own.

Then your pace slows, and you release your grip. I know better than to move out of position, though, and sure enough, only a few breaths later, your fingers move to your belt buckle.

A small sound escapes my throat as the SWOOSH of leather through belt loops fills the air, and I watch over my shoulder as you wind the belt around your hand.

"You're going to count out 20 -- is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," my voice leaks out, barely more than a whisper.

"I didn't hear you, little girl..."

I steel my lungs to fill up, my vocal chords to pulse with life: "Yes, Sir." A little louder this time. My heart beat quickens -- I can see you reaching back...

SMACK!
The strength of the first catches me by surprise, even though I saw it coming. "One, thank you, Sir!"

SMACK!

"Two, thank you, Sir." Mmm I am remembering how much I love the feeling of heavy leather...

By 18, however, I am doing my best not to writhe against the wall with each stinging stroke of your belt on my skin.

SMACK!
"Nnn... 19... thank you, Sir..." I know I've made it through now, but I also know that this is the last one -- the hardest. My whole body is tensed, my nerves on edge, my skin tingling in anticipation.

SMACK!!!
"Ohh! Nnn twenty... Thank you... Sir."

Your warm hand on my red bottom immediately rubs some of the sting away, and I begin to breathe relaxation back into my body.

You move to some distance behind me, and give me permission to rub. With the side of my face still pressed gratefully against the cold white wall, I allow my hands to venture back, to curl around my sit-spot and soak up the heat now radiating from my skin.

"Now, over here -- we're nowhere near through yet. No -- did I tell you that you could pull your dress down? Leave it right where it is." The light in your eyes reminds me how much you are enjoying yourself -- hopefully my blush communicates the same to you.

You instruct me to move down three steps and to turn around. As I watch, you position yourself on the top step, your left foot on the second step down, knee turned outward.

I realize where this is going even before you direct me forward over your knee, my torso on the landing, my legs suspended in the air down the steps.

You are spanking me now over your knee at the top of the stairs -- my bottom framed by your arm around my waist, made vulnerable by my hips' angle over your single thigh, exposed to the whole vast space of the stairway and sprawling hall below.

Just when I think there can be no greater embarrassment to this situation, your fingers find the waist-band of my panties, and begin to pull. "You've been a very naughty girl, haven't you? Yes you have. Daddy has to pull down your panties and spank you properly -- on your bare bottom..."

This is a moment that I will find myself replaying over and over again in my memory. : )

I am now bare, utterly exposed not only to you, but also to the expanse of stairs stretching out below us, and being spanked over your knee like a naughty little girl. I can only imagine what somebody standing down there would be able to see, looking up here.

In fact, my imagination is running wild by this point, as my mind and body begin drifting into that elusive, euphoric space, where pain becomes pleasure, and a naughty, well-spanked girl becomes the best kind of girl in the world.

Second photo featuring Abigail Whittaker of Firm Hand Spanking
Third photo from NylonDivas.com
Second-to-last photo courtesy of Miss Jules via Pandora Blake

Brand Spanking New Year!

2011-01-01T16:46:00.000-05:00

WISHING YOU A VERY HAPPY 2011!!

My New Year's Resolutions:

Take full advantage of every possible spanking opportunity that happens to come my way.

Don't be afraid to say hello to my inner Brat once in a while... :) Afterall, she needs hugs, too, sometimes!

Come up with at least three new spanking games!! (Already an idea involving Disney movies is happily brewing away...) :D

Find a real spanking machine somewhere, and, somehow, find myself strapped into it...

Live fully, laugh a lot, and love doing it!

Wishing all of you lovely readers a very very happy new year, with lots of fun and happiness of your own, and plenty of new adventures!! :D

(The New Year's Greeting card is in Finnish. How convenient! I can translate for you! "You Just Wait Until I Get A Hold Of You!!" They didn't give that snowman a broom for nothing! Alright, perhaps my Finnish is a little rusty... :D)

Spanking Positions

2010-12-30T07:56:00.000-05:00

Personally, I find a variety of positions (no, we're talking about spanking right now, silly! :D) quite enjoyable : ) I love being able to mix it up, to find myself in spontaneously compromising situations with my would-be spanker, to be able to suggestively lean just a little further in one direction or another...

Of course, over the knee is one of my favorites -- you've got a traditional appeal along with a certain special kind of intimacy... But the opportunity to try out several different options is ohh so much fun!

A close runner-up would have to be over the couch, or a variant there-of (couch arm, chair arm, etc...) Because of the intensified angle, the domestic atmosphere, and the new-found feasibility of such implements as a leather belt, which would typically be a little more difficult to wield in an otk position...

I would invite you to ponder your own favorite positions -- think about why -- what is it about the position that makes it special for you? The intimacy? The view? The ritual/tradition? The exposure (aka the entire top row of the picture above :D)? Lots of different reasons? =)

Positioning for me is a very large part of the overall experience. Sure, I could be spanked while laying comfortably on my side on the couch watching TV... :) But there's definitely something magical about being intentionally put into, or told to assume, a certain position designed specifically for the purpose of being spanked -- placing my spanker's awareness (and therefore mine) on this one now particularly vulnerable part of my body... :D Reinforcing, and acting as a physical representation, of an already implicit Dominant/Submissive relationship.

Whether it's an "Assume the position," or a "Get over my knee," if your mind works like mine does, positioning for your spanking can oftentimes be half the fun!

Keeping Holiday Secrets

2010-12-24T16:54:00.003-05:00

"Oh, my, I'm terribly sorry, dear Manager -- I should have asked if you wanted to spank her first!"

Shhhhh - Can you keep a secret? :D

I'm Jewish.

But I grew up celebrating Christmas! All my life...! I didn't make the connection between Christ and the holiday until I was something like 6 or 7 years old and began to investigate why "Christmas" was spelt with a "t" in the middle of it... It really is a Christian holiday, as commercialized and ubiquitous as it has become here...

That's America for you! :D

For my family, it is a purely cultural holiday -- nothing religious whatsoever about it, just a solidly American tradition. And a brief time for us to come back together from wherever we have been, spread out across the globe, all year.

We'll be doing it again this year, like always -- the big family celebration of the year! :D Getting tied up together in all the lights, the music, the holly and mistletoe, the shopping and holiday cheer... The snow on the ground, the cards and trees and hot chocolate... The presents.

Yes, lots and lots of presents!

This is always where I begin to feel that little twinge of guilt. :) Why should I be getting all these lovely gifts, when I'm not even a member of the religion behind the holiday? Why should I be getting wrapped up into all this holiday cheer when it's not even my holiday?

Well, it is my holiday. It's my family's holiday.

The spirit of the season is one of such love and charity and tolerance, that many people, of all different walks of life, of all different beliefs and religions, can share in its joy.

At least, that is what I believe. :D

If the keepers of the holiday believe differently, then I suppose I shall just have to suffer the consequences of my blasphemy...

Afterall, it's always better to tell the truth, right? :D

A very merry Christmas Eve to all those who celebrate, and to all those who don't, a lovely peace-filled winter season of joy and happiness! Thank you, and good night! :D

Corrupting Your Vanilla

2010-12-22T11:32:00.003-05:00

Perhaps you remember when you were, or perhaps you are now, exploring relationships with one or ones of the more vanilla variety?

Perhaps, like me, you even confessed to one or two of them your particular quirky love of dark chocolate, and were/are able to enjoy a certain titillating mixture of flavors : ) (or, perhaps, also within my experience, they found the idea of the darkness too crooked or frightening, and ran off :P)

Whatever the case may be, I am sure many of you may empathize with me when I say that it can be quite an exhilarating moment, exploring that tiny confession, however it comes about.

In my case, never would I ever outright say to a potential partner, even with the knowledge that they are kinky, "I want you to spank me." Not unless they force me to say it, and even then with much coaxing involved. Instead, I tend to "beat around the bush" -- especially if I am uncertain of their particular flavor...

Recently (this past summer, when the weather was a tad bit warmer :D), I was sitting on a back-less park bench with a charming vanilla romantic interest, after a lovely night-time stroll through the wilderness. Our bench overlooked most of the city, with a view of the river and all the sparkling night-time lights...

You already know what was on my mind. :D

And so it shouldn't come as too much of a shock to you that when I leaned forward, sitting to his ride side, and my peripheral radar picked up his right arm extending out behind me, I turned quickly toward him, my eyes no doubt betraying the thoughts lurking silently within.

"What?" he queried, genuinely curious. He'd been stretching.

"Oh, nothing... I just thought..." and now I'm beating around the bush, on purpose, to see if I can find him anywhere near the same wavelength of thought. If he's not there, I'm not going to push anything.

"Thought what?" He grinned. "I was only stretching."

"I know... it was just..." and, without really meaning to, I'm starting to communicate non-verbally, resuming my forward leaning position, looking almost over my should at him, letting my gaze move from his eyes down to his right hand.

I watch him look from me, follow my eyes to his hand, then back to me...

"You thought I was going to spank you?"

I think I was so surprised I nearly fell off the bench. Usually, it's never quite that easy...! Wouldn't you agree? How did he get it so fast?? :D

Instead, I covered the moment with a sheepish giggle, muttering, "Something like that..." and nestling sideways into him -- mostly so that I wouldn't have to make eye contact. :)

We were silent for a moment, enjoying the view, and then he said, "I could spank you if you want..."

:D:D What a night!

And that, lovely ladies and oh so gentle men, was a successful testing of the vanilla waters, on a beautifully innocent summer night :D

What Not to Say While Being Spanked!

2010-12-20T13:57:00.004-05:00

Today while checking my email, I ran across a rather interesting forum title that someone had recently posted on a kinky friend-finder website:

"Simple comments that might get you spanked more..."

Hmmm... I wondered. :D

Ahh, the fantastical things that can be accomplished with the work of many kinky minds... :) These were just a few of the posts people had offered so far (along with a few of my own creations):

While over your spanker's lap, during the spanking:

"Did you know your watch glows in the dark?"

"I should paint this room green..."

"Did you know your shoes are untied?"

And, one particularly naughty girl offered, not a comment, but a suggestion: Tying his shoe laces together... :D You'd either get spanked more if he notices while you're doing it, or dragged back for more after he stands up and almost falls over... What a terrible trick! :D

During a lecture:

"Oh, were you talking to me? I didn't hear anything you just said!"

"It's pronounced 'CUM-ula-tive,' honey, not 'cuh-MUL-ative'..."

In response to, "Have you learned your lesson yet?":

"Why, is there going to be a test later?"

"Oh wait, I think I left something in the oven!"

"Never let you find out when I do something wrong?"

In response to, "Do I need to start over?":

"Why, did you lose count?"

"You started already??"

Just a few ideas, in case you're really a good girl like me, and need some extra help getting into trouble sometimes... :D:D

Cast Your Vote!

2010-12-19T23:40:00.002-05:00

For: The Spanking Blog of the Year!

I would go on a glorified rant about the importance of exercising one's hard-won civil liberties to have a say in the formation of the world, but I would be preaching to the choir! Of course you want your favorite blog to win! :)

Voting will close at the end of 2010 so get your votes in fast at The Spanking Spot -- host and sponsor of the award :D!

Up this year are two of my very good friends, whom I have the very great pleasure of knowing in person: Miss Pink of The Pink Report and Abel and Haron of The Spanking Writers.

Even with two such wonderful contestants, the list is long and many fantabulous blogs and bloggers are in the running! Such a difficult choice!! :D Good luck to everybody and happy voting!!! :)

Double Take License Plate

2010-12-16T09:12:00.000-05:00

While driving back from dropping a friend off at the airport yesterday, I happened to notice a rather unique license plate out of the corner of my eye. In that brief moment, it looked a little something like this:

It was enough to make me want to look again, just to make sure :D

Of course, I was speeding along at a pretty brisk clip on the highway, and didn't have too much time to look closely, so perhaps I really did see it -- and perhaps my mind was simply perving someone's innocent three-letter license plate without my permission...

In any case, it was a nice surprise :D

Imagine if, instead, it had been something more like this...

I think I would have found myself trying to explain to my family how I had managed to lose control and crash the car on a perfectly clear, sunny winter day with no other complications in sight... :)

Spanking Cast!

2010-12-13T09:00:00.002-05:00

This past spring, Abel and Haron of The Spanking Writers started a lovely new Podcast venture: Spanking Cast, which is now in its eleventh episode!

You can find them on iTunes, or listen to all of the episodes right from their blog.

Their most recent cast features Abel himself, and a few of his adventures with "perverting reality," as many a spanko -- I'm sure you can relate -- is wont to do... :D

What fun to come across quite ordinary, run-of-the-mill day-to-day life activities or images that spark kinky thought... :)

Even Good Girls Need Spankings

2010-12-05T15:11:00.004-05:00

Ahh kinky merchandise... :D

Not only does my collection of implements and kinky outfits seem to be continually growing -- now the trend appears to have begun infiltrating my very wardrobe! (Thanks in large part to my lovely and very generous kinky friends :D)

I recently became the proud owner of my first pronouncedly kinky T-shirt:

:D :D It says I'm a good girl! :) Not only that, but it promises that even if I am a good girl, I don't have to worry about never getting spanked!

As you can see above, the s-word is very strategically high-lighted... and, closer in on the right, an illustration is included just in case the text needs a little more explanation...

Can you see her pink little bottom? And the mark is even stick-man hand-shaped! How cute is that?? :D

Now I just have to make sure I don't leave it unattended in the communal apartment laundry room... Or forget that I'm wearing it when I walk out the door!

Phrases of Consequence

2010-11-24T09:17:00.001-05:00

Recently, I had the wonderful pleasure of visiting an old friend again back in the lands before grad-school, and consequently experiencing quite an exhilarating spanking adventure :D

It is rather amazing what two kinky minds can concoct in the space of simply a few hours... with only an empty house, a folding chair, and a bag of implements. : ) I would like to share with you all some of the most impressionistic highlights of the afternoon...

Firstly, when he put his fingers into the front of my jeans and gripped, pulling me toward him by my waist -- using my jeans as a handle, pretty much, to exercise a certain amount of gentle control over my movement (and not only that, but centering that control around that just-below-the-belt area) -- and then proceeded to undo the button and zipper himself after this brief bout of authoritative maneuvering.

Secondly, when he made a point of shifting my positioning so that my hips were centered over one of his knees, rather than both -- the curve of a single thigh as opposed to two makes for a very different feeling of exposure (and I'm sure that it translates into more than just the feeling! -- but I wouldn't know -- spankers, does the actual view shift proportionately, as well?? :D)

And Thirdly -- one of several climactic moments of the entire experience (for me, anyway :D) -- when I was over his lap, his left hand clasped around one of my wrists at the small of my back (and therefore his left fore-arm pressing down on me), his right hand spanking expertly, and he said to me, "Naughty little girl... has to be put over a man's knee and spanked..." OMG I nearly melted on the spot :)

I had never quite heard that exact combination of words before -- but somehow just then it coursed through me like electricity (and still does whenever I replay them again... and again... and again... :D) Ahhh the lovely, long-lasting, and highly impactful power of words...

Thank you, my friend, and may our paths soon cross again! :)

The Fantastical World of Harry Potter

2010-11-21T12:07:00.000-05:00

On this past Friday, November 19th, Part I of the final installment in the Harry Potter film series was released to theaters world-wide. Of course, I attended the midnight showing, and of course, I was consequently late to my class the following morning, and of course, this sequence of events sparked a multitude of fantasy scenarios in my mind -- many of which I'm sure you can extrapolate without much help from me :D

I have made mention in the past of my love for the series (hence the christening of this very blog -- the phrase employed by any miscreant who wishes to wipe the Marauder's Map blank after mischievous use), and also of my favorite Harry Potter character: Professor Severus Snape, the Hogwarts Potions Master for a large portion of the series.

While the professor (Alan Rickman!!!! :D) doesn't feature much in Part I of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I know that he will play a much larger role in Part II (not too much of a spoiler alert :D), which they are forcing us to continue anticipating heavily until July...!

In the meantime, however, it's ideas like this which continue to feed my own fire of imagination :D Three erring young witches-in-training to be dealt with? No need to make them wait their turns -- magic allows a time-efficient professor to deal with all three at once! And since we have magic, we may as well get creative... : )

Hope you enjoy, and I hope those of you out there who may or may not also enjoy the fantastical world of Harry Potter have plenty of chances to indulge your imagination, as well! :D

'Tis the Season for Perversion :)

2010-11-09T08:14:00.005-05:00

Well, arguably, 'tis always the season for perversion... :D

But, at least in America, the months of October, November, and December offer up a rather uniquely annual series of 'major' holidays for the kinky mind to work with...

First there's Halloween -- what a way to kick off a holiday season of kinkiness, eh??

Probably the most easily pervertable holiday of the year...

What with the sudden adult-world freedom to don costumes from all corners of the earth and heaven and hell -- let your kinky imagination run wild! :)

(Artwork by Endart)

Then, skipping our current month for a moment, there is perhaps the second most pervertable holiday of this season, Christmas. How many kinky Christmas parties have you been to? If you are someone who would go to such things, with likewise kink-minded friends, and you have been in the 'lifestyle' long enough to have more than a handful of said kink-minded friends, then I would be surprised to hear you say haven't been to a single one (that is, of course, unless you started building your kinky network any time after January 1st of this year, and therefore may soon be receiving your first invitation to a kinky Christmas celebration :D). If you are not the type of person to seek out such social notoriety within the kink world, I absolutely understand and respect your need for privacy :)

If you don't go to parties, though, I would be surprised if you haven't at least once harbored a single kinky thought about the holiday... whether it is a naughty girl/boy over Santa's lap, or exchanging kinky gifts with any of your play partners... :D

The possibilities for kink within one of these holidays, however -- the American celebration of Thanksgiving -- requires a little more stretch of the imagination...

One could choose to zero in on the idea of the pilgrims themselves: the historical account that they were Puritans from that land across the sea, and as such quite strict in belief and lifestyle. It would be quite reasonable to assume that certain disciplinary practices were quite common-place among the society of New Englanders upon which half of the American Thanksgiving tale (largely romanticized and rather ostentatious, like many modern holidays, I suppose) is based.

From this historical assumption, it might be a logically imaginative next step to create a scene rather something like that below, of a wayward girl chastised by her father in front of the entire family during the Thanksgiving celebration -- as the holiday's central theme, at least in my own experience, is in fact the gathering and sharing of intimate and extended family.

:D The wintry, November-ish feel of this family gathering around something that looks quite suspiciously like a dining table just yells "Thanksgiving" out to me, and I am quite content to extend this as a viable fantasy for a rather elusive holiday :)

I do, however, have yet another solution to the kinkyfication of Thanksgiving... One of my new-found friends in the scene here is throwing a party for just the occasion, and I will be eagerly attending this year's rendition of "Spanksgiving" with every intent to milk the holiday for all it's worth! (Preceding, of course, a customary and entirely vanilla visit with my own family on the actual holiday, during which none of them will have any idea of the places my mind will be re-visiting while in their company.) :D

St. Trinian's Strikes Again

2010-11-06T12:20:00.007-04:00

Remember St. Trinian's School for (Bad) Girls? :) The film that had me oh so curious, and many of you both insisting that I see it and pointing ever so helpfully to some of the film's earlier incarnations? In particular, RH of the Woody Back to School Unit made mention of Ronald Searle, the artist behind the original devil-incarnate school girls :D Thanks to RH, I have found some of these lovely illustrations (as you can see!), and am very happy to be able to share a few with you!

I would absolutely recommend checking out more of Ronald Searle's work (not linking to avoid causing anyone on the other end of the link undue shock, but his artwork is easy enough to find :D) -- some beautiful stuff, and, beyond St. Trinian's, an interestingly significant number of rather kinkify-able subject matter.... :D

The numerous renditions of St. Trinian's over the years, mentioned by a couple of readers, has me mischievously considering the pervasiveness of the 'naughty school girl' trope...

And, just in case you are curious, I did have the chance to see the film -- in its most recent form, at least. :) Not only does that exact phrase -- 'naughty school girls' -- come right out of Colin Firth's authoritative character's mouth, but the subject of caning *does* come up!

During a meeting of business-suits in a sky-high office around a giant table, one rather traditional-looking gentleman responds to Firth's assertions that St. Trinian's is simply in need of higher standards of 'discipline' by asking, with a rather suspicious amount of eagerness :), "So you're going to bring back the cane, then?"

"Of course! Well done old boy you've got it -- we'll cane the lot of them--" Was, sadly, not the Firth's answer, but one can dream :D

(I realize the first illustration here does in fact read "by Arthur Marshall," but I do believe that it may be referring a work called "Girls Will Be Girls," illustrated here by Ronald Searle... In any case, I love to see the female equivalent of the hackneyed 'boys will be boys' phrase -- we can have fun, too, you know ;D)

All Hallow's Eve!

2010-10-31T22:47:00.008-04:00

Happy Halloween everyone!

On this particular festive occasion, I am inclined to zero in on one small facet of the Halloween-scene... :D

That's right! Vampires! No, nothing to do with glittering Edwards or Forks at Twilight -- no no no. :) My inspiration stems entirely from another Hallow's Eve-worthy cinematic source... Namely: Interview with the Vampire, based on the book of the same title by Anne Rice, starring Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, and Kirsten Dunst, along with a lovely little bit of Antonio Banderas -- Yum!

While most of the film is rather dark, dank, and sinister, as one might typically expect vampiric depictions to be, the poise, timeless knowledge, Victorian style, and confident decorum of the three main characters speaks very much to my fantasy-forming imagination :)

Rather than launching into a thorough breakdown of the entire plot, thus negating the possibility of any of you actually going to see the movie for yourselves, I will provide some brief background knowledge and then highlight the one particular moment that led me to feature this particular film here this Halloween, for reasons that will soon become clear. :)

Claudia, the little girl in the picture above, was a young child when Lestat (far right) made her into a vampire. Lestat also made Louis (left, near Claudia) a vampire -- but Louis, a humanitarian, struggled tremendously with the cold hard fact that he must kill people in order to survive himself as a vampire. Basically, Lestat, distant and self-absorbed, treats Claudia as a prized pupil, while Louis, full of moral fiber, and who lost his wife and child before becoming a vampire, thinks of Claudia almost as his second chance at raising a daughter.

Kinkify-able Theme #1: Two 18th-(to early 19th)-century men of principle, one something of a tutor, one something of a father, taking on the responsibility of rearing a young female charge.

As Claudia grows in experience and intellectual prowess, but not in physical appearance (as a vampire, she is forever bound into her current physical state), she begins to resent the fact that she's been made into an immortal child-doll, never able to grow into womanhood. She loves Louis, her father figure, too much to remain angry with him, but instead lets this rage loose on Lestat, constructing a scheme to kill him. As you may know, however, it is very difficult to kill a vampire.

Kinkify-able Theme #2: Our young heroine, as she comes of age, lashes out in rebellion at the male authority figures in her life (albeit a little more viciously than may be typical), therefore warranting certain disciplinary action.

The scheme backfires, and one night Lestat, gaunt and filthy from trying to eek out a living in the Mississippi river where Claudia and Louis had dumped him, appears again in their home. The two of them discover Lestat creepily sitting at the piano by the window, playing a tune that he had been teaching Claudia to play during happier times. After explaining how he "came back to life," Lestat looks directly at Claudia, and says, emphasizing each word:

"Claudia, you've been, a very, very, naughty, little girl--" and then he immediately springs from behind the piano toward the retreating pair, in a very scary moment of vengeful pursuit.

Kinkify-able Theme #3: Well, this one's obvious... :D

Of course it was this line that struck a chord in me when I first saw the film :D I happened to be watching the movie with a very vanilla friend, which made the moment all the more secretly heated for me... Personally I would have much rather imagined Louis, the compassionate father-figure, uttering such a juicy line, but as it is, it still incites quite an effect... :D

I have been able to find most of this moment captured online for your viewing pleasure if you would care to see it -- unfortunately the closest version I've been able to find cuts out right before Lestat finishes with the word "girl," but since you know what he says, you can imagine the word, or perhaps it's even better this way because it leaves you free to imagine your own final word! Just overlook the fact that he's recently spent a considerable amount of time wallowing around in a river and therefore looks rather distasteful at this particular moment... lol

Even just the fact that this line exists in a movie of rather main-stream capacity is enough for me to fully appreciate it, despite any small imperfections... :)

Here it is: Interview with the Vampire: clip from Warner Bros.

Patty's Paddle Art

2010-10-30T19:44:00.001-04:00

I have had the lovely fortune of receiving the gift of a new paddle! And not only that, but it is an absolute work of art -- decorated quite beautifully with the artwork of Patty (also visit her blog!), sold on Cane-iac :D

So... while stirring certain passions by mere virtue of its shape, weight, and intended purpose, this particular paddle, with Patty's help, provides quite a whole new dimension of imaginative stirring: the emotive illustration depicted on the open-face of the paddle would mentally and physically enhance any spanko's experience! :) I know it's lovely for me to behold, anyway -- I hope you like it, too!

Thank you, dear friend! You have officially beautified my implement collection! :D

P.S. Anyone notice a holiday theme? The title of this particular piece is "Santa Spanks"... go figure it wouldn't matter to a spanko that Christmas is months away... :D:D Whether it's the middle of summer or just about Halloween, the idea of ending up on Santa's "naughty list" is still just as potent... :)

Mischief Managed

Canes of Antiquity

Spanking at your Fingertips

Spanked on a Park Bench

Good Morning Spanking

Happy Day :D

The Spanking Collection - Released!

Countdown Caning

Arlington Girls Reformatory

Spanking Surprise!

Consensual Spanking Day!

The Cane at St. Brutus's

Guest Post from MrA: New Spanking Game

Chapter Three - Salvaged!!

Chapter Four - First Day at School

Back on Track

Blogger Down!

Chapter Two - Twice to the Woodshed!

Chapter One - Spanking Weekend

Impromptu Spanking

The "Look"

Weighing Options

Corner Time

Charity Spanking Anthology!

St. Patty's Spanking Party

His Hands

Kinky Wear: Over-the-Knee Socks Edition

New Blog! Lea's Corner

Learning to Dance in the Rain

Classroom Role Plays

Be Careful What You Order...

Assigned an Essay

Shall We...? :D

I Need a Spanking

Must See: Through Arianna's Looking Glass

Girls Will Be Girls

Punished for Being Late to Work

Do you wear Pants, or a Skirt?

Spanking: The Ultimate Motivator?

Teach You A Lesson

At the Top of the Stairs

Brand Spanking New Year!

Spanking Positions

Keeping Holiday Secrets

Corrupting Your Vanilla

What *Not* to Say While Being Spanked!

Cast Your Vote!

Double Take License Plate

Spanking Cast!

Even Good Girls Need Spankings

Phrases of Consequence

The Fantastical World of Harry Potter

'Tis the Season for Perversion :)

St. Trinian's Strikes Again

All Hallow's Eve!

Patty's Paddle Art

What Not to Say While Being Spanked!