Spanked on a Park Bench

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

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

Countdown Caning

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

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!

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

The Cane at St. Brutus's

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.

Chapter Three - Salvaged!!

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

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

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