Thursday, April 28, 2011

Chapter Two - Twice to the Woodshed!

"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

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Chapter One - Spanking Weekend

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

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Impromptu Spanking

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

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

Friday, April 8, 2011

The "Look"

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