I wish he was lazier

I sat on the edge of the railing watching the traffic and tourists break my line of sight of it. I could get over its absolute beauty. I had seen many, probably tens of thousands before, but this one was special. The silky glimmer of the highly polished lamb skin leather

All that separated me and it was half an inch of glass, 20 feet of sidewalk, fifty feet of street and another 30 feet of sidewalk. All that and him. He wasn’t actually hear with me after work, but he would know. He always knew.

I chewed my lower lip, contemplating if it was worth it. I had been saving for a year to get enough available credit on my Visa and I finally hit it with today’s paycheck. I doubt he care though. He never cared. Well that is wrong, he always cares, which is the real problem. Sometimes I wish he didn’t care so much. That he would loosen up, be a free spirit, like me. And as a free spirit, I’m going to say to hell to with him and get it.

—-

Convincing myself that buying the handbag was a good idea should have been the first sign. The second sign would have been when the first credit card was denied. The third sign was the paranoia feeling at Tom seeing it laying around the house and asking questions. The third sign ironically was also my downfall. Well not the paranoia itself, but the fact that I left the purse in my car instead of bringing it into the house. Tom, being the diligent husband he is, thought I had accidentally left my purse in the car and grabbed it when he came into the house.

Some days I wish he would be a little lazier.

“Honey!” Tom called from the kitchen when he arrived home. He was home earlier than I expected. Tuesdays were normally team meeting days which prevented him from getting home much before 8. The small digital clock on the cable box read 6:55.

“Hi honey,” I answered as he poked his head into the living room. “Your home early, did you have dinner?”

“Oh, yea. Let me go drop these in my office,” Tom said. He was clearly distracted. Maybe getting home early meant he would have to do some work at home. I always hated it when he had to work in the evenings. No matter, I still preferred him here next to me.

Tom returned a few minutes later, still in his suit, though his tie had found a new residence. The slightly disheveled suit mixed with his piercing stare reminded me of a Polo commercial. My very own model was home, yum. I slide my legs from underneath me in preparation to spring up into my husband’s arms.

“I noticed you accidentally left your purse in your car so I brought it in.”

“Shit!” I thought. My purse was sitting on the kitchen counter, where he had to see it.

“That is until I saw your other purse sitting on the counter. The one in your car just contained this,” Tom said holding up a the receipt.

I knew I was busted. I couldn’t go down this easy though. “It was…was….a…really good deal….” I tried to explain.

“Really?” was all it took for him to break through my pitiful defense.

I really should have thought of a good reason for buying it on the way home. A forty-five minute trip and I hadn’t thought of one good reason. “Sorry?” I squeaked out, standing up as he rounded the sofa. I knew what was coming and didn’t involve me sitting on the sofa.

“I told you last week, we need to cut our extraneous expenses so we can afford a baby.” Tom scolded taking the spot I had just occupied on the couch.

“I know.” I nervously fiddled with the hem of the long t-shirt I wore as pjs. I’d been across his lap dozens of times, but always got so anxious right before the main event.

“You know, then you shouldn’t have done it. This time I’m going to make sure the point hits home. Over my lap!” He commanded as he started rolling up his sleeves. I wanted to think how sexy he looked, but the intensity of his expression scared me a little. I dutifully followed his instructions, draping my torso over his lap and onto the sofa.

There are sometimes when this position feels good, like when he is slowly working those massage oils he got me for Christmas into by skin. He can dance those magical fingers over skin for hours, while I just purr at the wonderful sensations. I doubt I’d be doing any purring this time.

“I think these should come down, don’t you?” He asked rhetorically as I felt fingers slide under my waistband.

“Only if you are going to massage below them.” I replied. A resounding spank to my panty-cover bottom was my answer. “Ouch!” I cried as he lowered my panties to my knees.

“Now I think you are due a good spanking for your behavior, don’t you?”

“Nope,” I smarted off again. This time he responded by peppering my tushy with spanks. “Owe, Owe, Owe!” I squealed. He was being mean tonight and starting harder than normal. Even his bare hand was doing a fine job of roasting my tushy. He worked all around for a good few minutes before starting the lecture portion.

“You,” SLAP! “Believe,” SLAP! “Eight,” SLAP! “Hundred,” SLAP! “Dollars,” SLAP! “Is,” SLAP! “Fine,” SLAP! “To pay,” SLAP! “For,” SLAP! “A,” SLAP! “Purse?” SLAP! Tom loved accent every word of his lectures with a spank, which stung with his bare hand and was horrendous with the belt or paddle.

“No, sniff” I cried, wishing I could reach back and rub my stinging cheeks. I could reach back, but I knew from experience it just resulted in paddle time.

“Then why did you buy it?”

“I don’t know…sniff…I looked so nice?” I managed to get out.

“It,” SLAP! “Looked,” SLAP! “NICE!?” SLAP, SLAP, SLAP! “Well I think we can just settle in there for a nice look spanking until your ass looks nice and punished.”

Tom didn’t even wait for my pleas of mercy before laying into me. And lay into me he did. All I could do was cry into my hands as I tried kicking me legs about a little while the fire built below. Eventually he figured I had enough, or probably his arm just got tired, but he stopped adding fuel to the fire and shifted to lightly rubbing my red cheeks for a minute before asking the question he always did at this point. “Was it worth it, Cadence?”

“No, sire,” I mumbled as he put me on my feet. I immediately started to rub the sting away with both hands.

“So what are you going to do about it?” I looked down at him and thought for a moment. The fire below had peaked and he looked so damn good sitting there in that button down shirt and dark slacks.

“Take the bag back… and make it up to you.”

The last part got him to rise an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to say something but I touched my index finger to his lips. He had his time to act, now it was my turn. I dropped to my knees, dragging my finger off his lips and down his shirt. In no time I had him as equally undressed as myself.

My spanking hadn’t been as much play to him as I would have wished. My tushy hurt yet he was only firm. The later I would change in a moment, while the former worked its self out. With one hand on his balls and one on my clit, I went to town. I suck and licked while fiddling between my legs.

Damn I needed that spanking. I needed that emotional release. I need this sexual release. I need my Tom.

“Get up,” he groaned with the gravel in his voice.

At the moment, I wasn’t sure if my legs would work. Contractions had started running down my quadriceps in time with middle finger. Releasing him from my lips, I grasped him at the hips with my left hand and started to rise. It was an awkward attempt to stand, because righty wasn’t going to leave it’s sanctuary.

I got halfway to my feet when he gripped my hips and hefted us into the air. The sudden acceleration cost me my balance, sending my legs and both hand scrambling for something solid. I found my safety in his burly arms. He stood like an oak tree with me wrapped around his torso and him holding onto my sit spots. The next thing I felt was his tip dragging across my slit, looking for it’s home.

The first stroke was all it took to reach my special space.

He wasn’t happy enough though. Working me up and down himself overloaded my brain. All I could do is moan as he shot a fresh wave up my spine with each thrust. Finally he paused for a moment and shifted one hand to the center of my bottom while the other ran up my back to stop at my neck. His lips locked mine in a sweet embrace. The strokes began again, filling me more and more each time.

“Ahh” I cried into his mouth when he finally hit too deep. Opening my eyes I could see that intensity I loved in Tom’s eyes. I was at his pleasure and would enjoy every bit.

He pulled almost out at my cry. he worked his tip in and out of my opening in a dozen quick thrusts. It was like I was being entered anew each time, and I like the entry the best. I couldn’t help but allow by eyes to fade shut and return to my special space. The last thrust seemed to continuously enter, all the way to my cervix.

“Ahh” I cried into his mouth again as my eyes shot open. He didn’t pull away this time, rather just held me there for a second. Then I felt the pulsations come from him, followed by a hot liquid shooting into me. He didn’t normally cum in me, but the pill made it ok.

He stood there for only long enough to finish before collapsing back onto the sofa. I had no choice but to settle in on top of him. I felt so comfortable and safe, laying on my husband’s body and enjoying the afterglow. Even my bottom felt good, in a warming embrace type of way.

“Honey, you got to quit intentionally getting in trouble just to get spanked.” He said after a few minutes. Damn, I was that obvious.

“Yes honey.” There was no way I was going to stop when sex like that followed. Even the discomfort at the end was worth it. It wasn’t like him to go that deep though. “But why so deep?”

“You haven’t been reading those books you got from the library.” He punctuated his comments with a firm slap to by tender hindquarters.

“Ouch!” I yelped. I looked up, trying to appear apologetic. I didn’t need a spanking now.

“Tst tst tst. I should spank you again for all that flak you gave me for not reading them when you hadn’t either.” My eyes got as large as saucers. We wouldn’t, would he? “But that would result in a bunch of flaying about and you need to lay down now because the deeper the deposit the higher the chance of insemination.”

“Oh.” It took a second for me to realize what he meant. Once I did I couldn’t help but jump into his arms and kiss him. He had gotten the job we had been waiting for.

Balance between Readers & Censorship

I’m big on stats. My day job involves managing projects, so six sigma and statistical data is very interesting to me. I was going though my stats this morning and one of the highlighted search terms was “parent trap the movie.” I felt bad that someone was searching for an innocent kids movie and stumbled upon this blog which is far from kids friendly.

How should adult themed blogs balance the desire for readers while limiting the flow of content to minors or unintended viewers?

Six thousand five hundred and forty minutes, over the limit

“Yes mom. Ok mom. I am right now,” Heather said into the phone. A few moments later she hung up her phone. “Hey, I got to get home.”

“It’s these soo cute?” Viola asked her friend, holding up a pair of high-cut panties.

“Yea, get them and lets go.” Heather dismissed the question then started chewing on her thumbnail.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Viola could see the anxiety in her friend.

“Nothing, my mom just wants me to come home now.”

“Ok,” Viola said with a shrug. “Let me pay for these. Oh then lets grab some FOYO before we go.”

Heather stopped chewing on her thumb long enough to bark, “No, I said NOW!”

“Fine, you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” Viola was surprised at the outburst. She was sure there was something wrong and she had to find out. Being the driver would provide some nice leverage against Heather.

The girls made their way through the mall crowds and out to Viola’s car without saying another word. A couple quick turns and they were on the interstate heading home. Normally, the highway was the fastest way to get back to the small town where the girls lived, but Viola was more interested in the second exit.

Heather was focusing so intensely on her chewing her thumbnail, she completely missed pulling the car into the rest area.

“Ok girl friend, tell me what’s wrong.” Viola damned as she turned the engine off.

“HEY!” Heather yelled, realizing the car wasn’t moving. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because you’re going to tell me what’s wrong!”

“I told you, it’s nothing! Please lets get going!”

“Bullshit!” Viola could see her friend was anxious and worried. Had it been a real emergency, she knew Heather would have told her everything. “We aren’t going anywhere until you tell me.”

“Grrr… Fine! My mom’s mad at me for running over my cell phone minutes.”

“Cell phone minutes. So what?”

“I was like a thousand minutes over.”

“Wow.” Viola chuckled a little bit. Her mother would be pissed if she had ever went over by that much also. She sensed there was something more though. Viola thought Heather’s nervous demure was disproportionate to the seriousness of the offense. “Ok, I’ll take you home.” Viola returned to the highway and fifteen quiet minutes later pulled into Heather’s driveway. She pitted Heather for having to still live at home, but being basically unemployed, her friend and no other option.

“Thanx,” Heather said, jumping out of the car as soon as it stopped.

Viola watched the blonde get all the way to the back door before reaching into the backseat and picking up the bag of clothes Heather had bought. She got out as the back door closed behind Heather. She took her time walking along the deck that wrapped around back of the house.

Pausing at the door, Viola could hear some yelling and then a little bit of commotion from inside. She tried peaking in the window adjacent to the door, but the curtains where pulled tightly shut. “Well here goes nothing,” she thought before knocking loudly.

She heard some voices inside then she could make out a figure approaching through the frosted glass door panes. She licked her lips as the figure reached the door. Any second she’d find out what was bothering

“Oh, hello Viola.” Heather’s mother said curtly after opening the door.

Viola almost dropped the bag of clothes. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Behind the woman and the kitchen, laid a girl with her panty covered bottom pointing straight at the door.

“Can I help you?” Mary asked her daughter’s friend impatiently. She needed to get dinner started and there still was the business with Heather to finish.

“So that’s why Heather was so mean.” Viola said to herself.

“Hu?” Mary asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing really. Heather just yelled at me after your call. She mentioned you were mad about the cell phone minutes, but nothing about, hmm, that.” Viola nodded to indicate the girl’s current position.

“She did, did she?” Mary pursed her lips while she thought for a moment. Lying to people outside of the house wasn’t strictly prohibited, but Viola was her daughter’s best friend, and it appeared she was mean about it also. Mary took a step backwards and motioning for the girl to enter. “Why don’t you come in and after my discussion with her I’m sure she’ll apologize.”

“MOM!” Heather screamed from the dinning room, “PLEASE NO!”

Mary closed the door behind Viola then lead the way into the dinning room. “Hush! You shouldn’t be mean to your friends just because you are in trouble!” She punctuated her remark with a swift swat to Heather’s bottom. Viola hadn’t even noticed the bamboo spoon Mary had been holding until it crashed into her friend’s backside.

“Ouch!” Heather cried in echo to the muffled clap.

Viola stood in the corner, covering her mouth as she watched her friend get spanked. She had the perfect vantage point to watch the spoon work its way across the panty covered bottom, earning wiggles and the occasional ouch from the owner. Viola wasn’t sure what to make of the scene playing out before her. She could tell Heather was dying of embarrassment, though she didn’t think the spanking looked that bad. It actually looked kind of pleasant, like when her boyfriend slapped her ass during sex. If this was a spanking, she kind of wished she’d been spanked instead of grounded.

“Ok, enough warmup. Lets get these down and start the main event.” Mary set the spoon on the table then reached for her daughter’s waist.

“Please let me keep them up!” Heather reached down her slides to grab her the waistband of her panties.

“Is your bottom not warmed up yet? I can keep going?”

“No, I mean yes, ah! Please let me keep them up while she’s here.”

“She is a woman just like you and I. Now let go or I’ll continue warming up your bottom!” Mary commanded, punctuated with a couple firm slaps of her open hand on her daughter’s bare thighs.

“OCUH!” Heather squealed, letting go of her waistband and attempting to reach her tighs. The table made it an impossible task.

Mary shucked the undergarment down the pink tushy and legs until it was inverted just above the girl’s knees. “Now these can stay here until we are done.”

Viola’s eyes grew larger at this revelations. Up to this point she had thought Heather was lucky to get spanked instead of the punishments she’d received growing up. Losing her phone or computer for a week had been torture to a teenager. With her friend’s panties down and round two ready to begin, she wasn’t quite so sure.

Mary brought spoon forward with a slight upward arc, catching the meeting of bottom and thigh. The sharpness of the spank caught Heather off guard.

“Ouch goddamn…” Heather realized the words that came out of her mouth a moment too late.

“What did you say?” Mary asked her daughter.

“Nothing,” the upturned girl mumbled. The response earned her smart spanks to each thigh. “Ouch, ouch!”

“Would you prefer more than your mouth washed out?” Mary asked.

Viola covered her mouth as her jaw fell again. Being spanked at 23 was embarrassing, but her friend got her mouth-soaped for swearing also. Wow, was all she could think.

“No, no, I’m sorry for swearing.” Heather pleaded, twisting her head and shoulders around in an attempt to show her mother her contrition.

“Then go get the ivory.” Mary instructed, slapping the pinkened bottom then pointing towards the front entryway.

Heather made awkward waddle through the house to the main bathroom while keeping her panties tightly around her knees.

“What did Heather say was the reason she was in trouble?” Mary asked the stunned Viola.

“Ah…ah that she went over her cell phone minutes by like a thousand or something.”

“Six thousand five hundred and forty minutes actually.”

“Wow,” Viola mumbled. The couple of times she’d went over her allotted minutes she’d lost her phone for a week or two, and that she had only been a hundred or so over. Six thousand! She would have never gotten her cell phone back. Though how did she use that many? “How?” she mumbled as the thoughts swirled in her head.

“She keeps falling asleep with Corey on the phone at night.” Mary answered before turning her back and watching the doorway for her offspring.

Heather returned holding a slightly used bar of ivory soap. Heather never looked up as she entered the dinning room, being more preoccupied with the awful white bar in her hand and keeping her panties at the appropriate height.

Viola, conversely couldn’t stop staring at her friend. It took Viola a couple moments to realize why Heather was carrying a bar of soap. She had read about a couple news stories involving parents washing their kids mouths out with soap, but didn’t think it really happened. Well at least it didn’t happen outside of those white trash households.

“Open!” Mary commanded after taking the soap.

“Please, I’m really sorry, I’ll never ghhhff!” Mary cut off her daughter’s pleas by shoving the white slab into her mouth.

“That will stay there until I am remove it. Now back over you go.” Mary waved the wooden spoon at the gagged girl before pointing towards the table. Heather gave up her protests and resumed her spot bent over the table.

Viola had seen a couple spankings before, but this was nothing like those erotic ones. Mary peppered the proliferated bottom with the spoon. Heather cried through the soap while wiggling her hips about and occasionally kicking a leg up. All this fuss just earned her a few swats to the back of her thighs and a hand on her lower back.

Mary didn’t stop until she thought her daughter had been soundly spanked, crying only tears of contrition.

“Ok baby, I think that is enough. You can get up now.”

It took Heather a moment to regain enough of her senses to push herself up, off the table. Once uprighted, her attention immediately focused on removing the pain below. She danced from foot to foot while attempting to rub out the blaze in her tush. Viola couldn’t help but snicker at her friend dancing around like her butt was on fire.

“Come on, to the sink,” Mary said, shooing her daughter towards the kitchen. It was all the prompting Heather needed, as she quickly scampered to the sink. She knew better than to remove the bar from her own mouth and waited diligently for her mom while keeping the rubbing going at high speed.

“Do you have anything to say?” Mary asked, pulling the drool covered ivory from the girl’s mouth.

“I’m sorry for going over my cell phone minutes mommy,” Heather cried and sputtered like she was closer to three than twenty-three. She finished with a couple of spits into the sink.

“And to Viola?”

“I’m sorry for being mean,” Heather replied in the same little voice. At her pause, Mary made a slight grunt, prompting “and for lying to you about my punishments.”

“Ok, you can rinse now.” Mary turned on the faucet. Heather didn’t even both using a cup, instead dunked her head sideways to fill her mouth with water before spitting it out. Mary let her repeat the motions 5 times before turning off the faucet.
“It’s ok baby. Your all forgiven. Now you two can go up to your room and play a little bit.”

Viola looked at Mary sideways. The last bit of her statement was highly unusual to be said to two adult women. It even slightly offended her, though with Heather already out of the kitchen and that spoon sitting next to Mary, she didn’t dare argue the point.

Heather pulled her friend into her room and closed the door behind the girls. She immediately spun her friend around, “Please don’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t.”

“Promise!”

“I promise..” Viola twisted her lips from side to side. She had so many questions, but couldn’t figure out how to break the ice.

“How much damage is there?” Heather said, turning her back to her closet door, and the full length mirror hanging on it.

“Its really bad,” Viola commented as her friend twisted her torso to look over her shoulder.

“Naw, this wasn’t so bad. I’m probably lucky you came back.” Heather ran a finger over the slight hints of a bruise.

“Lucky?” was all Viola could say as Heather started blabbering on about other spankings, close calls and how she was relieved that she had someone with whom to share her secret.

Eyes Larger than Bottom

I grew up with a basketball team. Not literally, but there were 5 of us kids which is enough to form a full squad. We actually played together a couple of times, mostly against our cousins before my older brothers started going off to college. You would think that working a farm wouldn’t require a college degree, but this is the twenty-first century where everything needs a college degree. At least that is how all the guidance counselors always made it seem. I just hope there are more jobs for fresh college grads when I finish in a couple of years.

Growing up on a farm meant I had many rules and chores to do on a regular basis. With three older brothers, my chores were not that difficult and mostly were around the house, but the rules applied equally for my brothers as they did for I or my little sister. Well almost equally, because Dad mostly dealt with my brothers when they got in trouble and Mom dealt with Becky and I. This division of labor worked mostly in Becky and my favor, because during the summers and weekends we would stay outside as much as possible where Dad would let us get away with all things of mischief since he didn’t like punishing his little princesses. It was a stereotype we fit into only when Dad caught us, Mom could care less.

Most of the rules were quite standard for any farm family, like always latching the field gates, making sure tools are put away at night, doing your chores on time, keep up our manners, etc. Oddly we never really had curfews, rather we had to milk the cows at 5am, which meant none of us ever wanted to stay out beyond 10pm. The couple times when there was a school dance or something, we had to tell Mom when we would be home and stick to the time. No big deal.

One of the odder rules involved dinner. Living on a dairy farm, we had ample supply of beef, including steaks, for dinner. When we were young, the rule was Dad got the largest one and then we kids choose the smaller ones. When we reached our teens, the rule shifted to, take which ever you want, but you HAVE to finish what you take. My parents were poor growing up so wasting was a big no-no in my family. I guess the rule was actually not to waste anything someone else could use and food was were it came into play regularly.

So back to my current predicament. I had missed lunch today so when we sat down for dinner, I went straight for the largest steak and a nice big baked potato. When Ryan saw what I did, he raised his eyebrow a little as if to say “are you sure?” I was sure, at that moment. Fifteen minutes later, I wasn’t quite so sure and by 25 I was regretting my choice. Since I had turned 18 I seemed to be having a final growth spurt which meant I could eat constantly and not gain a pound. I know, your jealous. Well this new found hunger, plus no lunch, meant I was extra hungry when we sat down. But it still wasn’t enough to finish the 16 oz sirloin steak, a 6-inch potato and a salad plus some veggies.

Everyone else had finished and I was trying to stuff a little more into my stomach when Mom said “Becky, Rachelle will clear the table before we have a little chat.” I sat down my fork admitting defeat. My stomach was so full it ached.

“OK,” Becky said as she got up from the table, and taking her plate to the kitchen. She gave me look of condulences as she passed me. Mom, Dad and Ryan followed Becky’s lead in clearing their setting, now I needed to clear my setting then put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher.

I pushed back my chair when Ryan re-entered the dinning room. “I’ll finish your extras. Maybe Mom won’t be so upset.” Ryan said as he took my fork and plate. It was a nice gesture, which hopefully would work. I hadn’t technically wasted any food.

I picked up some of the serving dishes and took them into the kitchen. Mom was there fumbling with a few of the leftovers that where still on the stove. I sat the quarter full bowl of green beans on the counter and the dishes with the juices from the steaks into the sink, then went for another trip of dishes.

On my arrival from my fourth, and final trip to the dinning room, Mom was standing next to the sink, waiting for me. Her hands were resting on her hips and ‘your in trouble’ was written all across her face. At least it wasn’t the “I’m disappointed in you” look which would rip my heart out.

“I’m sorry Mom. I really thought I was hungry enough to finish everything, but I just couldn’t. I won’t do it again. Can you just spank me and forgive me?” I blurted out before she could say anything. I hated the lectures Mom would give. I didn’t like spankings either, but the lecture beforehand always seemed to put off the spanking on forever while my anxiety just built and built.

Mom looked at me for a moment, then just nodded towards the breakfast nook. Even though I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, my feet still took little steps over to the table. It was like my body was trying to preserve itself while my mind had clearly accepted its fate. I unbuttoned and pulled down my jeans before leaning over the table to grab the other side. I was hoping Mom would let me keep my panties up. I know, it would probably be the first time, but there’s always a chance.

Mom fished around in the utensil jar for a few moments then came over behind me. I felt her rest her hand on my bottom for a few moments before pulling back and delievering a series of quick spanks spread over both cheeks. They weren’t so bad, since my panties damped some of the sting.

SMACK SMACK SMACK! Mom kept raining down spanks with her hand while she said “Rachelle, you know better than to waste food.”

I bottom was beginning to feel warm as Mom shifted her attention to just one cheek at a time. My right cheek took the brunt of her firepower first. Even through my panties, the sting started to build quickly. I wiggled a little and Mom shifted to the other cheek. It was no time before she had every spank sting like a bee.

And then she stopped all of a sudden. My reprieve only lasted a few seconds before Mom pulled the back of my panties down, rubbing them slowly over my red bottom until they were hanging at mid-tight. The cool air on hot skin suprised me a little.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Mom brought the rubber spatula down hard and fast. I couldn’t stand it anymore and let the tears flow.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! My crying didn’t deter her as she picked up her speed and force. I wiggled by bottom from side to side which just got her to place her left hand on my lower back while she kept tanning my hide. Bending my knee just earned me a few swats to the thigh.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Every inch was covered with red marks. The top. The sides. The bottom. The oh-so painful crease between cheek and thigh. I just cried on as Mom throughly completed her work.

SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” I cried and cried, giving up all my determination to remain strong. The sting was just too wicked.

Then just as sudden as it had started, it was over. I didn’t realize it at the time, because the fire in my rear burned as strong as ever. Mom let go of my back and set the spatula into the sink.

“Come on honey, up you go now.” Mom cooed as she helped me. Those key words released my hands from their iron grip on the table edge, allowing them to fly back to rub my bottom. I buried my teary eyes in her chest as she held me tight. “It’s over now. I love you but be a little more curtious next time.” She let go of me as I started to regain my composure.

“I’m sorry mommy,” I cried wimpered. Why does a spanking turn any girl into a 4 year old? It happens with me. I’ve seen it happen with my sister and girl cousins. It’s like every minute under her mother’s hand, makes a girl act a year, or 4 for that spatula, younger. I’d probably only been over the table for 4-5 minutes, but felt 15 years younger!

“I know honey. Wash all the dishes and put them away then you can go.” Mom said as she motioned to the sink.

I started to slowly step over towards the sink, with my hands still firmly secured to my bottom, when I realized I was bare below the waist. I had to have covered the ten feet to the sink in a second flat. It was the best option to preserve a little of my modesty while dealing with the horrible sting. I heard Mom chuckle at my scamper as she left me alone in the kitchen.

I rubbed for another few minutes, keeping my pubis firmly against the counter in front of the sink. The sting finally resided enough for me to dampen a hand with cool water and apply it to my stingy cheeks. I jumped a little at the first touch, but soon had both cheeks damp. Cool water after a spanking is wonderful sensation, though before a spanking is torture. I learned that tid-bit a year ago after swimming in the pond.

Once the fire was quenched to a mild sting, I got to work on the task at hand. Even though no one was in the kitchen, I didn’t dare move very far back from the countertop. I think Ryan had taken off to his girlfriend’s right after dinner so Becky was the only one who might spy on me. Her spying on me like this is embarassing, mainly because I was naughty than from a lack of modesty.

“Eyes bigger than your stomach?” Becky asked from behind me as I finished up washing the last of the dishes.

“Nope, I wanted to get spanked!” I snipped back, flicking water at her. “Brat!”

“Thought so,” Becky snickered. “You want some help drying?”

She wanted something. There wasn’t any other reason why she would volunteer to help me with my punishment.

“Mom said you could drive me over to Grant’s after you got done.”

Boyfriend time was the real motivator. “Fine,” I accepted. We’d be done in a few minutes and I’d be able to put my jeans back on.

From Stealth to Stats to Story

So I wasn’t supposed to be talking about the new blogging/ online authoring website. They are supposed to be in “stealth mode” and are only offering a limited beta test right now.  I did get a chance to play around with the beta test and it looks like WordPress with all the functionality turned on. Some of the functionality isn’t working yet though the parts I played with, it seems better than WordPress.com and uses the WordPress software. They must have customized it or something. No matter the info said the public release is to be October 7th.

Last week, I logged in to the admin panel and got this message about “A spike in your stats” and “Your stats are booming! Looks like “In Hushed Voices” is getting lots of traffic.” Being less than tech savvy, I instantly thought someone had hacked my account. Then a little bit of logic set in and I realized if someone had hacked the blog then I probably wouldn’t be able to log in, which I just did. The second though was someone was spamming my blog, trying to get WordPress to shut it down.  Checking the actual stats I realized what a fool I was being and what a heavy-weight Chross is the spanking community. I knew he was influential, but by him including a story of mine in his weekly list of spankings, I got 1800 views in a single day.

Thank-you.

Lastly, I watched the movie “Parental Guidance” this past weekend. The story is basically these new-age parents ask her old-fashion simple parents to come and babysit the children for a week. The difference in parenting styles couldn’t be more striking. The movie was good, but the parents were the stereotypical parents which create bratty adults. And not the good kind of brats, but the disrespectful, self-centered adults. The grandparents, the grandfather, are completely comfortable with putting their proverbial foot down and telling the kids no. This gives me some interesting story concepts where a college age daughter lives with her grandparents during a summer internship. I know you can see it in your head also.

Admirable goals of a spoiled brat

The story begins with Just Your Everyday Spoiled Brat Party and continued with Consequences for the spoiled brats.

Gwen sat on the edge of her bed, waiting. In five days she would be returning to college, with all its excitement, camaraderie and parties, but right now she had to wait. Waiting some unknown length of time for her mom.

She turned the slab of oak in her hands over and over. It was something to do, even if it didn’t break her focus on the inevitable. Soon this piece of wood would be a pain in the ass, literally. It was so small, really. At about twelve inches long and a three inch blade, the paddle weighted barely a pound. But it was this slender profile that had made it so deadly to her bottom.

She glanced up, instinctively looking across her room, towards the small corner formed between her closet and bathroom door. “Then over there,” she thought aloud. Corner-time was the worst part about being spanked. Displaying her bare bottom was so embarrassing, even if it was just to her empty room. And tonight she’d be there completely nude. Her mother probably would even leave her bedroom door open so everyone in the house would see her there.

Gwen’s mother cleared her throat loud, breaking Gwen’s daydreams. “You go to the bathroom?” she asked her daughter.

“Yes,” Gwen answered meekly, looking down at her hands, which nervously fiddled with the paddle. A strong blush filled her cheeks as she was reminded of the incident prompting her mother to ask the question before every spanking. She wet her mother’s lap one time and now is reminded to pee before every spanking.

“Then stand up and I’ll take that.” Gwen’s mother indicated the paddle. The two generations exchanged the piece of wood, and with it their positions.

Gwen couldn’t understand why, but she had to stare at the paddle the whole time she stood before her mother and was scolded. She had illogical feeling that if she focused on it then the paddle couldn’t sneak up on her. Subconsciously it was she was trying to avoid the feelings of letting her parents down that came with the scolding.

“I still can’t believe you got yourself arrested. Your father and I raised you better than that. Especially not to do what you were doing, what ever it was!” Gwen’s mother scolded. “Do you have anything to say?”

That last line always finished these lectures. There was only one thing Gwen could do. “I’m sorry mom. I really am. You don’t need to spank me again, I’ve learned my lesson,” Gwen pleaded.

“I don’t want this lesson to be one you forget, EVER!” Gwen’s mom took up the same position which Gwen held a mere ten minutes earlier. “You can remove that robe, young lady,” she said, motioning to the knot around her daughter’s waist.

Even though her mother had seen her naked many times, it was situations like this that were the hardest to disrobe. Her fingers fumbled with the Terra cloth knot, to really able to follow the order provided by her left brain. “Please?”

The plea of mercy fell on deaf ears. A pair of raised eyebrows was enough to prompt Gwen into decisive action, freeing the knot and shedding the robe. The front flaps parted slightly to show more of her cleavage and little else.

“Please mom, not hard!” Gwen pleaded, even though she obediently draped her torso over the awaiting knees. “I put in as much time as they would allow.”

“You shouldn’t have had to do community service in the first place!” Gwen’s mother scolded her upturned daughter. She didn’t really care how much of the community service Gwen had done, but the outstanding community service hours may help drive home her point. She wasn’t one who believed in undue formality during spankings, mainly because she hated it when her father had made her count her swats. “But you are right.”

“I am?” Gwen squeaked. Her mother had never gave in to any of her pleas for mercy before, so why now? Was it a trap?

“You have tried to put in the time. How much did you get completed?” Gwen was asked.

“Ah…46 hours.”

“So you have 54 left? Then I’ll only spank you 54 times.”

“MOM!” The realization hit her a little to late. 54 was probably more than she would normally get, though she had never tried counting.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The little paddle blasted into Gwen’s bottom with a slow cadence. The sound of her mother’s voice, mocking with it painstakingly slow increase.

CRACK! “Eight,” CRACK! “Nine,” CRACK! “Ten.”

“Ouch! please!” Gwen cried as her mother reached a dozen. The little piece of white oak was doing too effectively, Gwen thought.

CRACK! “Fourteen,” CRACK! “Fifteen,” CRACK! “Sixteen.”

“Ahh, Ahhh, ahhh pleaaasssahhh!” Gwen cried in unison to her mother’s counting. Her bottom had moved well past the sunburn stage and started to get to the frying pan stage. It was at this point she would always start to involuntarily kick her legs about, trying to move her bottom out of firing range. It was a pointless exercise, but her mind said she had to do something.

CRACK! “Twenty-four,” CRACK! “Twenty-five,” CRACK! “Twenty-six.” Gwen’s mom paused for a moment to view her work. Both of her daughter’s cheeks held a deep red tone, with slight maroon and purple ovals forming at the crowns. She hated going past this point and causing bruises, but experience had told her than Gwen only learned when she couldn’t sit for a few days. She consciously sat aside her motherly instinct of sweeping up her crying baby in her arms and reminded herself that Gwen had gotten arrested and needed this lesson.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The little paddle blasted away again. Gwen semi-audible pleas turned less distinguishable as the count rose into the thirties. By forty, Gwen was reduced to a low continuous wail, punctuated with hiccups timed to the impact of oak on flesh.

Gwen didn’t even realize her mother had reached the end until she was helped up and into a mighty hug.

“Waaaaa, soorrry, waaaa,” the girl cried into her mother’s chest.

“It’s ok baby. it’s ok.” Mother hugged daughter while daughter tried to rub away the fire. After a minute or so, Gwen was ushered to her usual bedroom corner to cry herself out and reflect on why she was in this position. Earlier she knew this would happen, and at the time modesty and the embarrassment of being placed in a corner like a naughty child were all she could think about. Now, neither mattered.

Her mother left her there until her parents decided to head to bed, a period of about an hour. The time served her well, allowing her to fully regain her composure while reflecting on the changes she wanted to make in her life. Unlike after most spankings, this time she resolved on the admirable goals of focusing on school, avoiding guys and trying to build a friendship with Becky.

Yobun’na supankingu

The story begins with Welcome to Josei no Kiritsu Spa and Dojo. I recommend you read that story first.

Stacey knocked tentatively on the Dojo’s door. When no one answered, she knocked again, then tried the handle. The door was locked. Maybe Sensei Hirsha forgot, she thought hopefully. She started to leave when a neon pink sticky note on the floor of the alcove opposite of the door, caught her attention. Picking it up, the first word dashed all hope of a reprieve.

“Student, Fold clothes neatly and stack them beside door. Seiza on your clothes with nose against wall until I arrive. ~Hirsha”

Glancing up and down the hall, she was slightly relieved to see no one around. The little alcove by the door would hide her so long as no one walked down the hall. It would also provide some cover while she undressed, which was a horrifying thought. Someone walking by while she was half undressed was somehow much worst to her than stripping in the locker room and walking her naked. Slipping off the shoulder straps, she quickly wiggled the dress and panties together over her hips and into a pile on the floor. She took another peak down the hall before hastily folding into eighth and setting it on her sandals next to the door. With her panties hide inside the folds of the dress, she knelt down into the seiza position and waited.

Stacey had been waiting in the prescribed position for forty-five minutes when Sensei Hirsha arrived.

“Come girl,” Hirsha told Stacey as she unlocked the door. Stacey gingerly

“Seiza”

“You don’t listen. You bad girl. Yoga positions important to Jujutsu because they make strong core. Strong core, makes you good at Jujutsu. Understand?”

“Yes, sensei,” Stacey wasn’t sure what else to say. Jujutsu was all about having a strong, solid core stance from which you could strike, throw or deflect.

“Good, you learning. Now you learn more. First supankingu. Kowtow.” Hirsha told her student as she rose to her feet.

Stacey bowed forward, until her head touched the floor and her hand lay flat before her. While Stacey had never been to a Yobun’na supankingu before, she had a general idea what would happened, and it ended with her sleeping on her stomach.

“Lower,” Hirsha commented when she returned from the cabinet in the corner. Stacey reached farther forward and tried to get her chest lower to the floor. Her breast had been touching though now they were crushing under her weight. The shift had the effect of curving Stacey’s spine, providing a more pronounced target for Hirsha.

Hirsha knelt to the side of Stacey, so that her right hand had ample access to the derriere she had striped earlier. “No move or we begin supankingu again.” Hirsha instructed, brushing the leather and bamboo paddle across its target.

“Yes, sensei” Stacey said with a sigh.

The paddle fell like the spring time rains of Hirsha’s hometown in Japan. Tradition said Yobun’na supankingu was to be carried out in three parts, with the first part consisting of three minutes of a light, fast spanking. This was how Hirsha received Yobun’na supankingu when she was much younger and now how she taught her students.

Stacey maintained quiet groans as the sting of every individual swat merged together into one painful sensation. As the paddle fell, the tension in her shoulders and clenching of her lower cheeks grew. Every so often the paddle would wrap catch her at the intersection of her thighs, spiking her senses into releasing a yelp.

Hirsha stopped after counting to 180 silently. At about one swat per second, the 150 or so swats had created the desired even pink glow across the student’s bottom and the very tops of her thighs. The tramlines from this morning’s practice had mostly disappeared into the general coloring. Hirsha had learned the advantages of the first part of Yobun’na supankingu when she was a beginner like Stacey here. The quick, fast spanking would break up the swelling and scar tissue caused by a cane, allowing the bottom to heal much quicker, even if it was just as painful overall.

“Enough supankingu, now we fix mistakes.” Hirsha said to her student’s visible relief. Stacey’s shoulders slumped while the high and the tight globes she had presented Hirsha, returned to their natural relaxed state. “Stand up.”

For the next twenty minutes, Stacey was asked to perform every technique Hirsha had ever taught her. She sailed through the novice level techniques, showing perfect form every time. The beginner level techniques where not as well ingrained into her muscle memory and tripped up a couple. She was only slightly surprised when three searing swats landed on her backside when she made the first mistake. She was more surprised that after the reprimand, the sensei showed her the correct form, then walked through every motion with her multiple times before expecting her to preform it independently again. Out of the three dozen techniques she knew, less than half a dozen required any correction.

“Good, good. Now we end with reminder.” Hirsha said. “Get in downward dog.”

Stacey sighed deeply, instantly knowing her punishment was far from over. She’d been in enough of Hirsha’s classes to know the sensei only had students get into that yoga position before they were to be caned. The prominence of the target area made the position perfect for a caning, if a little embarrassing.

She watched Hirsha go towards the cabinet in the corner before resigning herself to another session with that evil rattan rod. Getting onto her stomach, she pushed herself up into a plank then shifted her shoulders backwards, thrusting her bottom upwards and into downward dog.

“Now reminder to always do good. You get three with big cane. No move or I start again.”

Stacey took a deep breath before answering “Yes, Sensei.” The clenched her jaw, bottom and eyes, waiting for the way to familiar sting to return.

Stacey originally thought she had been shot when the heavier rattan cane bit into the crowns of her cheeks. Her popped open and her lips parted as the breath was forced from her. Tears clouded the floor as she gasped a deep breath.

The second slice was worst than the first. Hirsha lowered her aim, landing across the junction of thigh and cheek. Stacey’s voice returned with a high pitch squeal followed by quick chants of ow mixed with sniffles.

Hirsha landed the final slice a quarter-way down from the top of the thigh.

Stacey broke her chanting to squeal again before returning to the mixture of ows and sniffles.

Hirsha set the tip of the cane on the floor and leaned gently on it while she waited for her student to regain her composure. The “reminder” portion of Yobun’na supankingu had always been the hardest on her, and it was the same way for her students.

“Ok, stand up.”

“You have completed Yobun’na supankingu. You feel more disciplined?”

“Yes Sensei,” Stacey responded without thinking what a dumb question it was. She’d just been put through a half an hour of spanking. Of course she would feel disciplined.

“Good, you more disciplined now. See you in class.”

—-

As Stacey laid in bed that night with her battery-powered friend in hand, she couldn’t get Sensei Hirsha’s words out of her mind. “You more disciplined now” repeated over and over, distracting her from her carnal wants. She eventually gave up on her little friend and instead practiced her techniques into the night. As she practiced into the night, all she could think of was being the best and making her sensei proud.