Jun 252013


It seems that, through the imagination, spankings can happen anywhere – in another excellent reader submitted story, ‘Falling to Grace’ shows us what could happen when even ‘crossing over’ can’t save you from a hard hairbrushing. Enjoy!

–   Dana

Falling to Grace

By Anthony

He was standing before her as naked as Adam, squinting into her face. She was seated, and with the white silk gown draped over her feet, he couldn’t see if she wore shoes. If so, he knew they were the most brilliant of silver pumps.

She had dispensed with the wings, and that accentuated her pale, long arms. Oddly, those arms were mismatched, with the left arm much larger in diameter. This asymmetry struck him as strange, especially here. She also looked familiar.

She patted the left side of her lap several times and without thought he lowered himself slowly over her legs, settling his nakedness onto the silky fabric covering his thighs. 

“If you’re wondering,” she said, “there is no He around here. We take care of everything.” Her voice was close to his ear, low and engaging.

From his position over her lap, he and the floor were bathed in the illumination from her halo. A mother of pearl hairbrush, lay within his arm’s reach. He yearned to retrieve it, to feel its heft in his in his hand, to slap his other palm with it, to surrender it to her with delicious hesitation. But he was scared.

“Of course we all spank here,” she said, caressing his naked bottom. “Just some harder than others.”

“How much will it hurt?” he asked. His body was responding to the feel of her thighs, the smooth hands on his flesh.

“I should think a great deal,” she said. “You won’t be sorry.”

She started slapping his bottom gently, glancing blows that warmed and teased him. Her palm struck where his legs met the curve of his bottom and she slowly worked her way up that arc, eventually connecting with more force on the fullness of his cheeks.

His hands had lowered to the floor, helping him balance. Now she took one of his hands and brought it behind his back, spanking harder for awhile. Then she paused. It took him a second to realize the sensation had stopped. She slipped something flat and cool into his hand.

He brought the object around so that he could look at it. An Android tablet?

“You don’t use…I mean I thought here of all places…” he started to ask.

He heard her laugh deeply. 

“He was an absolute genius but so straight-laced it hurts me to think.”

The tablet was displaying a YouTube page and when he saw the particular video, his stomach somersaulted.

“It ends about 1:42 or so,” she said. “Well, it and you.” She laughed.

But he was sidetracked now, staring at the screen, how he’d looked on the edge of the cliff, before he’d jumped. 

She had to slap his already sore bottom several times hard before he pushed the play button. 

He had really looked good, hadn’t he!

“There you are in your cute wingsuit,” she said. “Falling out of the blue sky, a lone beautiful bird. So magnificent I daresay it reminds me of my earlier days.” 

“Picking up speed as you swoop down, down, down. Hurtling toward the hole in the rock face. There’s nothing else like flying! They know…you know…it’s certain death if you miss the hole. But you have the parachute on your back and safety is the most likely outcome.”

She started spanking him again as he watched. “There’s no way you could miss the hole is there? No reason for that…”

He was transfixed as the video merged with his memory. Outside his body, watching, he was feeling the elation of the flight in every nerve, the precision in his trajectory born out of the most minute changes in the wingsuit.

The video played on and he almost forgot his burning bottom and the fire of her hand. As he flew closer and closer to the hole, it gained in size and the video transitioned to slow motion.

“There,” she said. “Stop it there.”

He had approached the hole dead center with plenty of room on all sides, until this very moment, where a variation had pitched him slightly off course.

“Miscalculation” he said. “At that speed there’s no room for error.”

“No,” she said. “No miscalculation. Do you want me to stop spanking you?”

He felt her hand pause and he sighed, then muttered something.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“No, please!” he said. “Butt wiggle. It was butt wiggle. Keep spanking!”

“Ah,” she slapped his bottom once in punctuation, then again and again. “Butt wiggle. I thought maybe. Replay that.”

He rewound the video and played it over.

“It’s so clear isn’t it,” she said. “You were perfect, absolutely perfect, *until* you wiggled your bottom the tiniest of a millimeter. Practically invisible in the wingsuit. The aerodynamics changed just a teentsy. But at 69.3 meters a second, it doesn’t take much does it? And you knew that.”

He remained quiet.

“Well,” she said, “we really don’t need to see much more. Suffice it to say that what happened got you twice as many views as a success would have.”

“Plus,” she added, “you’re here.”

She grasped his hair lightly and her lips felt almost in his ear. “Be careful in the future – if you go to the Other Place, it’s an eternal timeout. In fact, there’s a bored guy in the corner there because he jumped semis on a motorcycle too successfully.” 

He moaned. It was time. They both knew it. 

Still over her lap, he swung his arm back and returned the tablet, the screen dark now. Then he reached down slowly and picked up the hairbrush. He held it for a moment, drawing it slowly down the side of his face, feeling the coolness as he slid the back of it past his temple, over his jaw, past his chin. So flat. So hard. So smooth. He gently passed it to her.

“You may not remember,” she said, “but this isn’t the first time you’ve been here. Oh no, not by a stretch.”

She laughed. “To this day, they still talk about a certain young man as a myth. They say that in this myth he flew too close to the sun and the wax wings he wore melted and plunged him into the sea.”

“We know better don’t we? I wonder what maneuver brought you closer to the sun. Close enough to melt the wings.”

He smiled and laughed, and together they said “butt wiggle”.

“The thing that you *do* forget every time,” she said, “besides your sordid, naughty history, is that the spanking is cumulative.”

“So I’ll be spanking you not only for your latest collision with the rock face, but for the melted wings, and everything in between. With this heavenly hairbrush!”

She brought the brush down on his bottom and he gasped.

“It’s mostly fun right now,” she said in a happy, menacing voice, spanking him again, “but your bottom will remember this for a long time even if you don’t”.

“And the thought of it may cause a twinge down there, a wiggle if you will.” She laughed.

“Then you’ll be back seeing old Grace again. I guarantee it!”

Visit my premium video, DVD, and products website at DanaKaneSpanks.com.
Jun 032013

This month’s story writing contest, ‘Who Do You Think You Are’, garnered a very few entries – even fewer of which were eligible, based on unfavorable content or inability to stay on the requested topic.

In this month’s contest, and in all future contests, I will choose NOT to edit or post ineligible entries. If you’re going to take the time to write and submit a story, please do yourself the favor of making it:

1. On Topic
2. Free of Sexual Scenarios…jeez.
3. On Topic.
4. Free of Characters or references to characters under the age of 18. 

Otherwise, all your time and effort will be wasted. 

Now, let’s celebrate May’s story contest winner (who’ll receive a free membership to danakanespanks.com)!

Grandmother’s Family Secret


My name is Yolanda and my parents died in an automobile accident when I was very young.  I was raised by my Aunt Consuela and brought up in the Catholic Church.  Aunt Connie was named after her great grandmother, my great great grandmother, who lived on a ranch in western Texas.  When Connie died I was the only surviving relative of Connie’s great grandmother Consuela.  My husband and I began receiving monthly letters and checks for our mineral rights from an oil company involved in hydraulic  drilling.  
My husband and I decided to go to western Texas and visit the ranch.  When we arrived the barn was ready to collapse; but, the house was in decent shape.  I doubted if any of the furniture had any antique value but I’m not an appraiser.  In the attic we found an old chest  that contained a family Bible, Consuela’s diary, a pearl handled revolver, a large oval ivory hairbrush with a worn smooth back, a long thin horsewhip doubled over to fit in the chest, and numerous pictures and family heirlooms.  
Consuela’s wedding picture depicted her as a tall stunningly beautiful Latina woman with dark hair and eyes.  Her husband had a slight build and was much smaller than Consuela and appeared to be much younger.  When we checked in the family Bible she was 28 and he was 21; but, his slender build and boyish face made him look much younger.  
As we drove home my husband and I were shocked by what we read in Consuela’s diary.  She had married Ollie Roberts in 1881.  Ollie was orphaned when he was 14 and taken in by neighbors who ran a hotel.  He was no more a problem in school than the other boys but his slender physique made him the constant target of bullies.  According to his many confessions to Consuela he was arrested when he was 14 for stealing cheese and found to be in possession of stolen firearms and clothes.  He escaped by climbing up the chimney and supported himself by horse thievery.  
Frank Cahill a local blacksmith constantly bullied Ollie.  One day he threw Ollie to the ground and started kicking him.  Ollie was only 15 when he pulled a pistol and shot Cahill who died the next day.  Ollie was later involved in the Lincoln County wars as a hired hand.  Legend has him killing 21 men but he confessed to Consuela that he had killed 7 and they all deserved to die.  By now he was known as the kid because of his slight build, beardless face, and youthful appearance.  
Civil War General Lew Wallace, author of “Ben-Hur”, was elected territorial governor of New Mexico and wanted to bring order.  He offered amnesty to anyone involved in the Lincoln County wars who wasn’t yet indited; but, the kid was on trial in Mesilla and found guilty of the murder Sheriff Brady and sentenced to hang.  The kid escaped and fled to Ft. Sumner.  His friend former bartender and buffalo hunter Pat Garrett was elected sheriff and staged the kids killing which allowed Billy the Kid to escape to western Texas and start a new life.  
Billy changed his name to Ollie Roberts, married Consuela in 1881, and converted to Catholicism.  Every Sunday they rode into town to attend the Catholic Church.  Billy confessed all of his sins to the parish priest who told him that he must be sorry and do penance if his sins were to be forgiven.  After confession when they returned home Billy sit in front of Consuela and shared his confession with her.  He confessed all of his sins from stealing cheese, clothes, firearms, horses, to killing 7 men.  Billy was not a killer who killed wantonly, they got what they deserved. 
Billy shared with Consuela his need for penance if his sins were to be forgiven.  Consuela insisted that his penance needed to be an  act of painful self -abasement preformed to show sorrow and repentance for his many sins.  She ordered Billy to the barn where she told Billy that he was to receive a severe horsewhipping.  He was ordered to strip naked and his hands were tied above his head  and secured to a beam.  Consuela crisscrossed his back, buttocks, and upper legs with her whip as he howled and squirmed in pain.  She untied his hands and helped Billy to the bedroom where he laid on his stomach and she rubbed ointment on his welts.  
In her diary she wrote how every Sunday after church she would give Billy a weekly maintaince spanking.  They would go to the bedroom where Billy would strip and she would remove her Sunday dress.  Consuela would sit on her straight backed vanity chair clad in her 19th century lingerie with the large oval ivory hairbrush in her hand.  Billy would kneel in front of his disciplinarian and ask  for a spanking as part of his penance.  He would then go over her knee for a severe no nonsense spanking.  He would kick and squirm but make no attempt struggle off of her lap.  Consuela was an excellent disciplinarian.  Her weekly spankings would continue until he was begging forgiveness for his many sins, crying real tears, and his bottom turned crimson.  She wrote that he could kick, cry, and squirm but he knew that if he ever fell off of her lap he was going to the barn for a severe whipping.  According to her diary that never happened again.  
Consuela suspected that Billy found a release from guilt which brought about a strange need for her weekly spankings.  Being draped over Consuela’s lovely lingerie clad lap was much more pleasurable than being tied to a beam in the barn!  After reading her diary I understood why the back of her hairbrush was worn smooth!  
Can you imaging the infamous Billy the Kid standing before his spanking disciplinarian, confessing his many sins, and being draped over his beautiful Latina wife’s knee doing penance for the sins of his youth?
Visit my premium video, DVD, and products website at DanaKaneSpanks.com.
May 012013
May 2013 Spanking Story Contest:
‘Who Do You Think You Are?’

** To celebrate the launch of HERE member site, this month’s prize winner will receive a free full-access membership to the site!  Over 130 F/M, F/F, and POV spanking scenes – and counting! – should keep our winning author busy for quite some time. (For those who are already subscribers, you’ll have the opportunity to choose an alternate prize.)**

In the name of good fun and fertile fantasy, I’ve decided to open the contest up this month to include folks whose names we’ve all heard. Celebrities, Politicians, Icons; Heroes and Villains, past and present.  
What would it be like if one of them had to stand in front of a spanking disciplinarian and answer for their behavior? How many times have we said, “Boy, old so-and-so sure could use a good spanking”, while referring to someone splashed across our newspaper or television?
This month, your challenge is to write a fantasy discipline story featuring:
Someone Famous (or Infamous)
Facing a Disciplinarian
…and a List of Offenses

Quick tips:


  • Characters may be of any gender (and in the case of this particular contest, alive or dead), and you may include as many or as few other characters in your story as you want.
  • Feel free to include any/all spanking genres: F/F, F/M, M/F, and M/M.
  • You’re encouraged to title your story independently of the contest’s title.
  • We are in the realm of Fantasy Writing here, folks, so there’s no worry about writing about someone known. Nobody would ever believe that Richard Branson, Anderson Cooper, or Daniel Radcliffe would end up in a spanker’s care, so it’s acceptable that we play with those fantasies. With that in mind, let’s try and avoid being incendiary.

There are also a few guidelines which MUST be followed in order for your story entry to be considered/published. 

Please read carefully:

  • Absolutely no characters or situations involving anyone under the age of 18. The occasional ‘like a little boy’ is acceptable, but I make final judgments based on context. Best to keep it to a minimum.


  • The same goes for overt sexual references and naughty language. Some poetic license is given, but genital references, sexual scenarios, and heavy use of profanities will likely not prevail.


  • Don’t cheat. It’s not cool. Cheaters will be publicly shamed and banned from future contests.


  • By entering your story in the contest, you agree to allow me to publish/excerpt/promote your entry (anonymously, of course) on this blog and other publishing platforms.

Contest ends May 31, 2013

Send all entries to me at: DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com  (You may either attach your story as a text file, or paste it directly into your email’s text box.)

If you have any questions about content, guidelines, etc, please feel free to email.

Good luck! 

–  Dana

Visit my premium video, DVD, and products website at DanaKaneSpanks.com.