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

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

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 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"

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

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

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!

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

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!