An invitation?

September 8, 2008

What does this picture say to you?

Is it an invitation?  And if so, what is she offering?

Sex?  Obviously that’s the first choice.

But to a spanko’s mind, the invitation is a little different.

I imagine a handsome man– this time he’s in a tux; after all, she’s dressed up (sort of) — sternly delivering a firm hand-spanking.

In my imagination, they are on their way to the theater, or better yet, the Opera.   For whatever reason, she’s in need of a hot bottom, which of course she’ll have to sit on afterward.

And he’s not done.  When they return home, she’s in for a dose of the strap.  Or maybe the cane… or which ever implement I’m currently fantasizing about…

This picture is one of my all time favorites. I don’t remember where I found it; most likely it came as a result of late-night, insomnia induced surfing.

The caption under it reads, husband spanks. That conjures up so many fantasies for me. My imagination runs wild… Friday night “maintenance”? Saturday morning “just because”? Or is she receiving true discipline?

Her bottom is pretty red, and that hand appears to have been thrown back to protect her hot cheek; there is the look here of genuine punishment taking place.

What was her crime? Spent too much? Smart mouth? PMS in over-drive?

Whatever transpired, this gentleman seems more than capable of dealing with the situation!

More on birching…

August 31, 2008

Most of us have a particular implement that sets us going… people from different parts of the world tend to favor certain things over others.

We all know the Brits love their canes; Americans tend to go for the wooden paddle or hairbrush.  And lets not forget about the feared leather belt or razor strap.  Those raised in the American south can usually tell stories about switches and how much they sting. 

But I’ve always had a “thing” for the birch.  Interesting things, birch rods.  By all accounts, there is the birch that is basically a bundle of twigs tied together, and then there is the bundle of switches that are tied together to make a sort of whip.  And of course, there is the commercially constructed sort, made from rattan.

I remember reading a post once, on a forum dedicated to this thing we do.  The woman who posted was raised in Sweden, and according to her, the birch was the implement of choice in her household when punishment was required.  Her parents used the “twig” type, and it always hung in full view in their kitchen.

She stated that the birch was always applied to a bare bottom, and that the first few strokes were no big deal, but as the whipping progressed the sting built, until you felt like you were on fire.  “A birching was always guaranteed to produce tears,” she wrote.  “It was a punishment to be avoided, at all costs.”

Not sure why I’m so intrigued by the idea… maybe I’m just craving the release a few tears would provide?

Innocent Comment?

August 30, 2008

Recently I called on an account I hadn’t had reason to visit in awhile.

The last time I was there, one of the managers had made small talk with me; general nonsensical conversation. I’d lamented how claustrophobic this particular store is at rush hour, and how I have trouble dealing with “the crush of the crowd.” In addition, this store is located in an area of LA where people are known for not always being nice.

Out of nowhere, he made the comment, “Yeah, when people start behaving badly I have to get the paddle out of the closet.”

Hello!

Innocent comment… or spanko slip of the tongue?

Unfortunately, this guy is not my type, so I would never risk attempting to find out. But when I saw him the other day I remembered this conversation, and the ornery part of me couldn’t help but slant a sly look his way, and wonder…

Bamboo Birch…

August 28, 2008

All right, since I’ve started blogging again, I figure I should lighten things up a bit.

I am a sales rep in the Natural Products Industry. Today I received a shipment of product for a new line I’m handling.

On the side of the box it came in are the words, “Bamboo Birch.”

Bring any thoughts to mind?

Sure did for me! Oh man

The birch is one implement that I think I might both love and fear.

From all accounts, it gets a girls attention… quite effectively!

I love the mental eroticism the idea of a birching provokes. Squirming, rocking from side to side, pleading for leniency from a stern yet loving disciplinarian.

A well striped bottom points to the fact that I’ve been bad; and now I wear my lover’s marks in penance.

And what about the word “bamboo”?

For me it automatically brings to mind visuals of a sound caning. There is just something about a strong man, one palm pressed firmly to his lovers back, while the other snaps a miniature cane along her bottom and thighs… oh!

Well, a girl can dream, right?

Those of you who have heard me talk about my Kelly-Ann before, already know the score. For those of you who haven’t, let me just say that Kelly-Ann is the love of my life.

It took me 35 years to find her but she was well worth the wait. Physically she is a sight to behold. The fair skin, the full red hair, the sparkling green eyes, every time I look at her she takes my breath away. At five foot five she is perhaps a little plump for her height but that plumpness is arranged in all the right places. Yes, I like the way she looks, but that’s not what really won my heart. After all, you can’t swing a dead cat in South Florida without hitting a pretty girl. No, the thing about her that won my heart is her spirit. She’s like a force of nature, my Kelly-Ann. Warm, honest and fun loving but also brave, loyal and true, both to her self and to others. She has heart as I like to say, lots and lots of heart.

You can imagine my surprise when I learned of her deepest, darkest secret, that she sometimes likes to be turned over a knee to have her full round bottom cheeks soundly smacked. She had told me one rainy day when we were cuddling on the couch.

I was surprised that Kelly-Ann had such feelings, they seemed so contrary to her nature, but I had also seen the pleading in her eyes as if she were willing me to understand. She had been feeling guilty that day over some traffic tickets she had received.

Well, I listened to her words and I looked into those green eyes and I knew what I had to do. I marched my then twenty-eight year old girlfriend into the bedroom, gave her a good talking to and then, yes, I took her pants down, turned her over my knee and spanked her like a naughty school girl. I’m not talking about a play spanking either. She’d made it clear that she needed the real thing and that’s what she got. I didn’t stop until her plump fanny was red as a stop sign and she was crying real tears. I had held her then and told her that she was forgiven and everything would be alright.

It was a strange experience for me. I had heard of such goings on between couples but I had never thought I would be a party to such an episode. I had to admit to myself that it had been terribly exciting though. The fear in her eyes when I was scolding her. The way her voice trembled when she answered me, the way her full womanly body felt draped over my lap. And then came the actual spanking. My god that was exciting, the sound and feel of my hand smacking those plump white cheeks, her shrieks and squeals, her legs kicking in the air, finally her tears. I could actually feel all the tension go out of her body as she cried it out. Yes, it had been a strange episode, but I knew right away that it was somehow the right thing for us.

Kelly-Ann had of course agreed. She told me she wouldn’t have it any other way. I was to spank her soundly any time I thought she deserved it. Her own words people, not mine. I had granted that extraordinary request, of course. Her every little lapse in behavior had been met with a swift trip to the bedroom for a sound, bare fanny spanking. There had been other spankings, too. Spankings she had quite obviously provoked. A little prank, a bratty remark. She knew how to push my spanking buttons. She pushed them for a variety of reasons; for one thing she knew how it excited me to smack her plump firm fanny cheeks. Other times I think she had just needed the reassurance that she got from a freshly spanked bottom. My point here is that she had either earned or provoked every spanking I had ever given her. Well, the story I’m going to tell you today is a little different.

It happened one Friday night when I returned home late form work. There had been a hellish technical problem. It had taken two hours to isolate and another hour to correct. As a result I had not gotten home until after nine o’clock. Kelly-Ann greeted me at the door. She was a vision as always. Her hair was loose and she was clad in a tee shirt and a pair of very short cutoff jeans she liked to wear around the house. They were so short that a generous portion of fanny cheek peeked out on each side in the back. She hated underwear and almost never wore them at home. This day was no exception; her ample breasts were free of constraint and bouncing around under the tee shirt as she walked towards me.

“Hey sweetheart,” she said, as she threw her arms around me and gave me a big wet kiss. I enjoyed the feel of her breasts pressed against my chest and as always I couldn’t resist giving her ample bottom cheeks a good squeeze.

“You must be hungry. I made you a big roast beef sandwich and there’s some chili on the stove,” she said.

“Are you joining me?” I asked

“I already ate. I’m just trying to get some cleaning done. I’ll sit with you if you want some company,” she said as I seated myself at the table.

“That’s okay honey, go ahead and finish what you were doing,” I said as she set the food in front of me.

The TV was on, an old Seinfeld rerun currently occupying the screen. I wasn’t really watching the TV though. I sat there eating my meal and idly watching Kelly-Ann move about the room straightening and dusting. I wondered for the millionth time just what it was about her I found so dam sexy. It didn’t even seem to matter how she was dressed. She seemed as appealing to me now in her cutoffs and tee shirt as she did in her sexiest little black dress. Maybe it was the way she moved or maybe it was some strange pheromone she was emitting. Hell, maybe it was just because I loved her so much. As I sat there pondering these questions Kelly-Ann was up on her toes dusting the top of the entertainment center. That particular pose showed her shapely legs and firm round bottom to very good advantage.

God I want to spank her tonight. The thought just popped into my head and I have to admit it surprised me. I was always more than willing to indulge Kelly-Ann’s need for the occasional fanny warming, but as I’ve said, she had always been the one to initiate such activity. It was true though, I wanted to take her to the bedroom and spank her and I wanted to do it right now.

It would just be a little playful spanking, I told myself. I knew it was a lie the minute I thought it. That wasn’t what I wanted at all. I wanted to take her into the bedroom, pull down the sexy little cutoffs, put her over my knee and really tan her plump little fanny. I wanted to spank her the way I spanked her when she was really in trouble. I wanted to make her shriek and squeal and kick her legs. I was shocked to realize that I could have such carnal, dare I say it, sadistic thoughts about the woman I loved. Well, I was having them and there she stood innocently doing house work having no idea what was going on in my mind.

The thing was that she had been good as gold all week. I couldn’t think up a single blessed excuse to spank her no matter how lame. I had promised her in the beginning that I would only spank her like that when she really deserved it. I had promised to be fair. Unfortunately there was nothing even remotely fair about spanking the tar out of the woman you love for no reason other than satiating my surprising new sadistic impulse.

Well, I thought, they say honesty is the best policy. Why not just tell her what was on my mind. All she could do was say no. I placed my dirty dishes in the sink and approached Kelly-Ann. She still had her back to me arranging nick knacks on the entertainment center more to her liking. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her on the neck. She loved to be kissed on the neck.

“That was a good meal, honey,” I said.

“Glad you liked it,” she said.

“Kelly-Ann, sweetheart?” I said, still kissing her neck.

“Yes dear?”

I moved my mouth to her ear and whispered, “I want to give you a good sound spanking.”

“But, sir, I thought you said you liked your dinner.” She said it in her little girl voice. It was a favorable sign.

“Dinner was excellent,” I assured her.

“Did I disappoint you somehow?” She sounded genuinely concerned.

“No, you’ve been wonderful. I’m very proud of you,” I assured her, still kissing her neck.

“So you want to tan my little caboose for the fun of it, huh?”

“Yes pumpkin. I want to give you a good sound spanking, right on your bare fanny.” She shivered a little at this statement. I could she her nipples getting erect. She was starting to breath harder, too.

“And you want to spank me hard?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Like a red headed step child,” I assured her.

“Even though I’ve been good?”

I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tight. “Yes sweetheart, I know I’ve no right to ask. I want you to take this spanking just because I want to give it to you,” I explained.

“You’re not going to use your belt, are you?”

“No sweetheart.”

“Or the paddle?”

“No pumpkin.”

“You’re just going to spank me with your big strong hands?” she asked, taking my hand in her own.

“Yes.”

“I love your hands,” she said as she brought my right hand to her mouth and began kissing it.

“Really?” I asked. She turned to face me. She fixed her green eyes on my own.

“Yes, I love it when you run your fingers through my hair. I love it when you give me massages. I love it when you hold my hand when were walking in public. I even love it when you have to spank me for being bad and my bottom is burning and stinging, and it’s all with these big wonderful strong hands,” she said as she continued to kiss my fingers.

“So you’ll take the spanking?” I asked.

“I don’t know. A hard spankin’ when I’ve been so very, very good….”

I saw the look in her eye. I imagine it’s the look you see in a big jungle cat’s eye right before he pounces. I saw it too late to react. Her little mouth closed on my right index finger and she bit me. Not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to really hurt. The teeth marks were still visible an hour later.

She pulled away from me and said, “There! Now you got a reason!”

There was fire in her eyes and a very wicked little grin on her face. I grabbed her upper right arm and spun her in the direction of the bed room. “Bedroom, young lady. March!” I commanded with a firm smack to her denim clad fanny.

She yelped and started scampering down the hall to the bedroom. I followed close behind enjoying the site of her rear pockets jiggling as always. When we were both through the door I started to reach for the spanking chair but Kelly-Ann interceded.

“Tom, wait, please,” she said.

“What is it, missy. You know you’re not getting out of this now,” I warned.

“I know,” she said. To my astonishment she went to the chair and turned it to face away from the desk.

“Your chair, sir,” she said. I seated myself.

“Thank you. Now I think we’ll have those little shorts down,” I said.

She unsnapped the little cutoffs and let them fall to the floor before stepping out of them. As I’d suspected she wasn’t wearing underwear. She didn’t stop there, either. She pulled the tee shirt up over her head, exposing her beautiful breasts, and tossed it onto the bed. Now I was breathing hard.

“Okay, young lady. Over my knee,” I ordered.

“Tom, please. There’s one more thing I want to do,” she said.

“What is it young lady. You’d better not be stalling,” I warned her.

“No sir,” she said. She knelt down beside my chair and took my hand again.

“Kelly-Ann,” I warned fearing another bite.

“Trust me,” she said, with another wicked grin. She didn’t bite. She unbuttoned the cuff of my shirt and began rolling the sleeve up my arm until it was passed my elbow. It was something I sometimes did for effect when I was going to give her a punishment spanking. A wordless way of saying you’re really going to get it. She looked up at me with those big green eyes, clearly expecting an order.

“Over my knee, young lady. I’m going to teach you what happens to naughty little brats who bite.”

“Yes sir,” she said, as she hoisted herself up and over my waiting lap.

You would think I would be used to the site of her in that position by now but it still makes my heart race. Her red hair cascading down to the floor. Her ample breast pressed against my left leg, and of course those beautiful, firm, round, white fanny cheeks plumped up over my right leg. It was a childish pose but there was no doubt that this was a woman over my knee. A woman who was currently in need of a good, sound, bare fanny spanking. Well, she was going to get one.

“Kelly-Ann, give me your hand please,” I said.

“Yes sir,” came from the vicinity of the carpet and she offered up her right hand. I took it in my left and pinned it firmly to her hip. Kelly-Ann wasn’t above trying to cover her bottom once things really started to heat up. I gave each firm cheek a little rub and squeeze. There was a mewing sound from Kelly-Ann. A combination of fear and pleasure.

“Do you know why you’re getting this spanking?” I asked.

“Because you’re a big bully?” she asked.

SMACK! SMACK! I brought my hand down hard on each cheek.

“OH! OUCH!” she squealed.

“Wrong answer, young lady,” I warned.

“I’m gettin spanked ‘cause I bit you, sir,” she said.

“Yes you did, young lady. You bit me hard. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she admitted.

“Why did you do that?”

“Well, sir, I figure if you’re going to bite someone there’s not much sense in biting ‘em soft.”

SMACK! SMACK! I gave her another good wallop to each cheek.

“OUCH! YEOOW!” she yelped.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Why did you bite me at all?” I asked again.

“I guess the devil made me do it, sir.”

“Well then, I think we’re going to have to hold a little exorcism. Do you think if I really tan your behind it will encourage the devil to depart?” I asked.

“Only one way to find out, sir,” she answered gamely.

“So be it,” I said as I raised my right hand high in the air. Kelly-Ann gripped my hand tighter and I felt her body tense as she anticipated the coming onslaught. She didn’t have to wait long. Her bottom cheeks started to bounce under my practiced hand. I didn’t go easy on her either, they were full blooded swats from the word go.

“OH! OW! SHIT! YEEEOOWW!” Kelly-Ann made the kind of sounds you expect from a young lady getting her fanny thoroughly tanned. Her bare feet were already starting to shuffle against the carpet. I relished the sting in my hand as it connected with her meaty bottom cheeks. She was fair skinned so she colored up quickly. Her bottom was already a nice rosy red.

“Kelly-Ann, do I have that little devils attention now?” I teased.

“Oh I think so, sir,” she said. She was already panting a little. I think the intensity of the initial swats caught her off guard. Well, there were plenty more where those came from.

“So you only think so, do you? Well that won’t do at all. We need to be sure,” I said.

I treated her to another barrage of swats, spacing them around all over her squirming bare seat so she couldn’t anticipate where the next one would land. I enjoyed the way those plump cheeks of hers bounced and wobbled as I smacked them.

“YEEEEOOOOWWW! DAM! OWWWYY, OH! FUCK! YES! OUCH! YOU HAVE, OH! HIS, SHIT! ATTENTION!” she said, as her feet came off the floor and started kicking it the air.

“What was that, young lady? I couldn’t here you over all that commotion,” I teased.

“I said, sir, that you have the little devils attention,” she said through her clenched teeth.

“Good, and what does he have to say for himself?” I asked affably.

“He really wants me to bite you again!” she said.

“He also says to give you this!” She turned her head over her shoulder and stuck her little pink tongue out at me.

“Well, he’s a brave little devil, isn’t he?” I said as I raised my hand and set her fanny cheeks bouncing anew. She was really starting to feel it. Her hair thrashed the carpet and her cute little feet flailed the air.

“OWW! OH! OUCH! YEEOOOWW! SHIT! AH! DAM! OWWWEEEE!”

I loved the way her red hair flared as she thrashed her head about. Her bucking and squirming were so energetic that I had to tighten my grip on her.

“Kelly-Ann, is he ready to leave yet?” I asked.

“No! He still thinks I should bite you again!” she said, gamely. Well, I love that she’s such a plucky little brat. Not that I was going to let her off easy for it. I zeroed in on the lowest curves of her bottom and really made the walls ring. Once again her hair and feet were flying as she tried frantically to move her curvaceous fanny out of the line of fire.

“OWWW! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! YYYYOOOWWW! SHIT! OH! OW! OUCH!” The girl knew how to express herself.

“Is he ready to leave yet?” I demanded.

“He’s just hangin on by his fingernails, sir.” I raised my hand to deliver another barrage.

“Sir?” said Kelly-Ann.

“What?” I asked.

She turned her head over her shoulder so I could she her tear stained face. “He’s be-in real stubborn, sir. I think you might havet’a use your belt,” she said.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“Yes sir,” she said turning her face back towards the carpet.

“So be it!” I said as I pulled the belt free of my pants. I laid the leather across her ankles and slowly slid it up the backs of her legs. She shivered in anticipation. I doubled it and took aim on her already tomato red fanny.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The sound of leather on bare fanny cheeks filled the room. I started at the top of her hips and spaced the strokes evenly down her bottom until the last and hardest landed on the crease between her bottom and thighs.

“YYYYEEEEOOOOWWWW! FUCK! OOOWWWWEEE!” Her whole body stiffened as if she were receiving an electric shock. As soon as the last stroke landed her cute bare toes started pounding against the carpet as she fought to absorb the pain. I gave her a moment to regain her composure.

“Kelly-Ann, is he gone now?” I asked.

“Oh yes sir. He high-tailed it out of there!” she assured me, still panting. Her bottom couldn’t be any redder. It contrasted dramatically with the cream colored skin of her bare back and thighs.

“Okay, young lady, on your feet,” I said as I helped her up. I always thought Kelly-Ann was never more beautiful than she was just after a really sound spanking.

She stood there with her red hair all mussed, some of it stuck against her tear stained face, her hands pressed against her burning bottom, a pose that showed her ample chest to good advantage. She just seemed to glow after a spanking.

“So what did you think of my little exorcism?” I asked.

“WOW!” she said with a rueful grin.

“I’m not going to forget that one any time soon,” she added. I took her by the shoulders and kissed her hard. Her lips were still salty from her tears.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Oh thank you, sir,” she said. “You know I still owe you an apology for bighting you, sir,” she added as she undid my belt and shoved my slacks and boxers towards the floor.

“Really?” I asked. My heart was starting to race.

“Really,” she said as she slowly sank to her knees and took her favorite portion of the male anatomy in her hand. She looked up at me with those big green eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” she said with an evil little grin.

THE END

On Submission…

March 28, 2008

Continuing the theme of my last post, payoffs…

I’ve often wondered what it would take to get me to submit to a man. Really submit. I’ve finally decided it would take one heck of a guy.

024_aa513.jpg Now, I know no one is perfect. But if I’m going to be submissive, there has to be a payoff, right?

The last few years have been tough; emotionally, financially, spiritually. It would be wonderful to have a strong shoulder to lean on. Someone to count on. And yes, even someone to hold me accountable when I just can’t seem but to screw up.

But for me to give over that kind of control, this guy would have to be strong. And gentle. And willing to take care of me. And capable of disciplining me when it was needed.

That (and great sex after the discipline) would be my payoff.

But here’s the deal: I can’t help but wonder if all this would just put too much pressure on a guy? Where do we draw the line as to our wants and needs? And is this why fiction is so much a part of many a woman’s life? Is this why we create our own heroes, because no real man could ever possibly fill such huge shoes?

I personally am guilty of having a pretty rich fantasy life. The escapism it provides allows me to cope. But I wonder if this is part of why I’ve stayed single for so long? Am I so content living in the world I create, that I’m neglecting the real world that I could be living in?

It would be interesting to hear from some of you out there… Comments and musings are most welcome.

And just to add a shameless plug, my story The Gift is my fantasy account of the life I dream of, although the punishments are much harsher than anything I actually want to experience…

Just in case any men happen to be reading this post, the scenes are fiction and a teeny bit overboard, so don’t get any ideas!

Spanking As Erotica

March 25, 2008

bending-over-sink.jpg  I have often read on various forums the debate over whether spanking is erotic.  I think most of us would agree there is an erotic element, otherwise why would we do it?

Everything we do has a payoff.  Truthfully, I don’t desire to live out the more severe scenes that I write in my stories.  But I do enjoy watching those types of scenes on screen.  And if I’m completely honest, I would like to find a man who would challenge my limits.

I remember reading a post on a forum called Taken In Hand, where a woman said that her husband punished her about once a year, maybe twice.  She wrote that he used a thick leather strap, “and it hurts terribly.  I don’t find it in the least erotic, but he’s the HOH, so I feel I don’t have any choice but to submit to it.”

Now where is her payoff?  I’m sure I don’t know, having never walked in her shoes. But I do know, that would never work for me. 

I am not a submissive woman– not in the least– and yet, I would like a guy to push my buttons.  Maybe it comes from a troubled childhood, having a father, but not really having a father. 

Maybe it would make me feel protected.  Or helpless.  Or accountable.  I really don’t know why, but it is totally erotic for me.

Unfortunately, I’ve always had vanilla men that I’ve tried to coax into being kinky.  And succeeded with some small success.

I remember very clearly having a knock-down, drag-out fight with my ex-fiance one night.  Now, mind you, I rarely fight.  I’ll usually do just about anything to avoid confrontation.  But this particular evening, I’d had enough and I said some things that– although true– were not very nice.  And they were hurtful.

Later, after we had made peace, (sort-of) we made love.  Angry, I’m really still mad, but I love you, so…  I’m sure most of us have had this type of sex at one time or another, and it’s usually hot.  And it was for us that night.  And it was the one time I knew he really wanted to let go and really spank me, instead of spanking me just for foreplay.

To this day, I wish he would have.

Would it have made a difference in the turn-out of our relationship?

Who knows? 

But it would have made a great spanking memory!

By the way, the memory mentioned here is my muse for a new story I’m working on…

326_tablespanking1.jpg

I love to write.  When I was a teenager I thought I’d like to write a romance and have it published by Harlequin.  They were definitely my reading material of choice.  By the time I left home, I literally had dozens of boxes of Harlequin and Silhouette novels. 

But alas, times have changed.  Somehow, the stories just aren’t the same as they used to be.  Although category romance seems to be getting much more sexually explicit, somehow the stories published today just don’t seem to be as hot as those published in yesteryear.  Everything is so politically correct these days.

I miss the stories that started out with the hero being just a little bit of a jerk.  Or maybe he was simply hardened to life, and it was up to the heroine to soften him.  Or maybe, he was misunderstood…

Whatever he was, I miss him.  I miss the angst.  I miss the barely caged Neanderthal masquerading in a business suit.  (I have a thing for handsome men in business suits– always have.  For me, its all about the “suit and tie guy!”)  I miss the tension that inevitably led to an emotional power-play, and usually a little rough handling– mind you, only a little.  We are talking about Harlequin here.

But as much as I loved these novels, I always found myself wanting to re-write them just a little bit.  In my fantasies, the hero would pull the heroine roughly over his knee and blister her bottom as she kicked and wailed.  Or he would pin her face first to a wall, all the while hiking up her skirt and yanking her panties down, and then she would feel the weight of his hand on her bare bottom… or better yet (in my mind anyway) the sting of his belt…

Often times such threats were made in my favorite books, but even twenty years ago there was some political correctness.  It was rare that any actual discipline was ever carried out, and even then, it was tame in comparison to what I really wanted to read.

So in my head my favorite characters had a slight life style shift.  In the stories I crafted in my head, sweet met kink.  And now, many years later, I strive to put my versions of their stories to pen and paper.  Or is that to keyboard and monitor?

Actually, it’s all of the above.  Late night insomnia often turns out many hastily scribbled pages that can barely be read the next day.  And my back often aches after too many hours spent at the computer.

But never mind that.  I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I enjoy writing them.  And hopefully as time goes by, I’ll be able to add more authors to my offerings as well.

Hiding the kink

February 5, 2008

Today I found myself frantically running around my home, hiding all evidence of my spanking fetish.255-10742.jpg  You see, I  live alone in the city and friends usually don’t drop in un-announced.

Well, today wasn’t exactly un-announced, but it was un-planned.

My best friend (who would be horrified if she knew my secret) and I are both sales reps in the same industry.  My city comprises part of her territory.  So she called me whilst driving on one of California’s many free-ways, to say that she was very close, and was I in the field today?

As it happened, I wasn’t.  I was having a quasi day off, and had been up late last night writing.  I’m currently working on several stories, plus some writing I’m doing for a vanilla site.  I had stacks of papers laid out everywhere, many with notes and outlines. 

I can just imagine my embarrassment if a page were to be seen that happened to contain a graphic punishment scene.

Oh my!

Thankfully, all was hidden in time and my secret remains safe.  It’s just between you & me, right?