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‘The Spanker’ : Another great Future Spank entry (f/m spanking)

Angel’s Guardian Angel (from the Give til it Hurts fundraiser) entered this fun story for the Future Spank contest – enjoy!

– Dana

“The Spanker” (a satirical homage)
by “Guardian Angel”

He had watched the series too often to count. A Twilight Zone marathon this week. Marathon. A winner in the long run, even though it was prematurely cancelled. Relegated to the network graveyard in 1964. But reborn because all good things do not come to an end.
He was viewing the final-season episode entitled “The Brain Center at Whipple’s”. Not a classic, but prescient for the present year 2164.
The titular character Whipple owned a factory that was in its downsizing phase. Whipple was firing workers and replacing them with machines. In the end, technology led to the undoing of Whipple. Who was bitter and alone.

Like Whipple, he despised technology. He looked to his left, cursing it. The machine. Piece of crap! Two centuries after “Whipple’s” aired, technology was still the bane of his existence.
And “piece of crap” was also an idiomatic expression two centuries later. For him, an appropriate criticism of The Spanker. The inexpensive version of The Spanker that he purchased was of poor quality. And, therefore, was prone to repairs. He called the company to complain. Help was on the way. He cursed the company that manufactured The Spanker, cursed the company that sold The Spanker, cursed The Spanker and cursed The Spanker’s absent repairman.
He was impatiently biding his time until the service representative arrived. He glanced at the time indicator on his wrist for the fifth time.

Fifty-five minutes later, the highly-anticipated chime. He was in a foul mood. When he opened the front door, his eyes widened. Surprisingly, the repairperson was a female wearing a baseball-like cap with the company name emblazoned on it. She removed the cap and issued the textbook apology. But before she could introduce herself, he voiced his first complaint to her.
“Ikea sells crap!”
“Hi! Here for The Spanker. Where is it?”
He indicated to his left.
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is: Ikea sells crap.”
“Yeah, I hear that … often … only recently.”
She fascinated him. She had a no-nonsense quality about her, an openness, an intelligence in her eyes, beauty and wit. What the hell was she doing with a job like this? “This”, of course, was repairs.
The complaints continued.
“Ages ago, Ikea sold crap furniture that had to be assembled. Now Ikea sells crap machinery with a diagram included. Crap furniture, crap technology. Crap.”
“If The Spanker is still under warranty …”
“I purchased this piece of crap last week!” He interrupted her which is what she couldn’t tolerate. He produced the receipt and forced it into her hand.
She thought, Crap, huh. As in, I’d like to beat the crap out of you. Now, now, she reflected, the customer is always right. But I’d still like to beat the crap out of him.
“Yeah, I can see that from the receipt. As it clearly indicates.” He was aware of the sarcasm.
“So, the company will replace it, right?”
“Gotta take a look, first.”

Minutes later, she was finished with her analysis. “There’s nothing wrong with The Spanker. Just wasn’t assembled correctly.” She looked into his eyes. Make me an offer. Nothing is free, pal.
“Can you get it running?”
“Yeah, but it’ll cost you for the service. A faultily assembled product is not the company’s fault, capish?”
She had braced herself for another complaint. “Okay, just do it. But it better work! I’m a lab technician, not a handyman!” The last word was said with disdain. A wicked smile from her, he noticed. I like her. Don’t get a chance to use my bratty nature enough with females.
She thought simultaneously. It’ll work all right. And then I’ll unleash The Spanker on you. You piece of crap!
She had a beautiful smile, though devilish. And she was extremely personable. Additional assets. She enjoyed chatting while working.
“S-o-o-o, The Spanker! A best seller. Said that, way back, spanking was underground. Then technology made the disciplinarians … or spankers … obsolete. Shame.” The last word was intended to be personal. It was what he sorely … literally and figuratively … needed. Discipline.
He was studying her and not her skill as a mechanic. Impressive!! Front and behind! Hair a bit disheveled. Almost wind-blown. “Is it windy outside, or did you use the washer and drier on your hair?” He stupidly snickered. The inappropriate comment disoriented her, and the wrench slipped from her hand.
“Excuse me?”
“Just having fun. No, really. You should have your hair cut professionally. A Tinkerbell look. Without the bun. From Peter Pan, you know. To shape your face. And … darken the color.”
“Y–e–a–h. I’ll consider it.” I will definitely be present when he tries to use The Spanker … to beat the crap out of him.
“Okay, done,” she announced. “Hey, lookie here! A wooden horse! Tell you what, let’s get you on the horse and move The Spanker behind you.” He felt excited at the prospect that she would be a part of product testing.
“Now, I’m only agreeing because we want to see if The Spanker works properly before you leave, right?”
“Gotcha!”
She pictured her future. An image of where she would be in the next half hour and how he would help her achieve her goal. To beat the crap out of him!
“Wait! Full effect, right?” She slowly unloosened and removed his belt. She studied the belt and folded it in half. “Hmm!” She wiggled it back and forth. Not stiff enough … for him. She began to work on his pants and quickly lowered them, almost as if pulling a rug from under him. The speed of the motion disoriented him. His pants fell to the floor. “Step out of them!” she ordered and he obeyed. Good boy, she thought and smiled. “Climb aboard!” Another order.
He raised himself on the horse and maneuvered into a jockeying position. She studied him. “Hmm! Let’s give it the full effect, why don’t we!” She used all the straps affixed to the horse to secure his arms and his legs and his chest.
“Is this necessary?” he asked with doubt and the beginning of fear in his voice.
“Oh, ab–so–lutely!” She felt confident and, as importantly, in control.
She returned to The Spanker and pushed it to a position behind him. She found the box with specially designed attachments for The Spanker. And inserted one. “Hmm!” She started the machine and moved a lever. He screamed at the impact.
“Just as I suspected. The Spanker works, but it’s too intense for you … now. Guess you’ll have to gradually build to a certain tolerance level.” Had he read the entire manual, the instructional booklet would have informed him about tension adjustments. She formulated, and would now enact, Plan B.
“But I was expecting to use it today!!” Said like a disappointed child.
“Well, we might be able to accommodate you, after all.” You piece of crap!
She looked askance. “Hey, is that a lab coat?!” She retrieved it. “It fits!” She extracted her hand phone from her pocket and placed it at a distance. “For posterity. Who knows … someone may be curious about the 22nd century. And we have an artifact. Archived.”
She looked directly into the lens of the phone and smiled with an expression that said, Payback is a bitch, you piece of crap! She spoke authoritatively.
“What we have here is a piece of crap. Correction: two pieces of crap. Won’t show you what The Spanker can’t do. But I will demonstrate what our generation is missing. A good, old-fashioned hands-on experience. First, a warm-up. Something this machine is unable to do.”
She walked behind him. “No warm-up from The Spanker, right? Don’t think so. But a warm-up from this spanker.” With his rear end raised, she delivered a few hard, well-placed swats. “Good thing I play handball without gloves.” He groaned. She looked into the lens and smiled. “He agrees.”
His voice quaked. “I think I’ve had enough.”
“Aw! Poor baby doesn’t realize that I only started. Warm-up, remember? Warm-up to be continued … Now!” She lowered his underwear, baring flesh, and swung with rapidity in the same spot. All hits precisely placed. Hey, I’m a natural!
“Are we finished?” The tone in his elevated voice registered extreme pain.
“Yes, … with my hand … for now.” The words were carefully separated … for effect. “I think I’ll test all of the products that Ikea has conveniently provided for us. What have we here?”
The first implement seemed ineffective. No discernible response. She casually tossed it aside and chose another. The smacks ranged from intense to highly intense. His body began to spasm, even when restrained. That’s what I want to see!! “Be still!” she commanded as if addressing a child. Which is how she perceived him. She looked at the lens and shook her head sideways. “Newbie!”
She picked up a hard, wooden object. “Now, take a d–e–e–p breath. Inhale. Hold it!” The intensity and swiftness of the strokes froze his brain. He did remember hearing the word “exhale”. She cooed sweetly and softly, “T–h–a–t’s good.” Pinched his cheeks, studied the affected areas and smiled mischievously into the lens. He mumbled inaudibly. She playfully tapped his back twice with the pain-providing apparatus. “Are you swearing? No swearing allowed!” He had said, “Bitch is crazy!”

By the time she concluded the session, he was as red as a beet. And his face was flushed. She studied her handiwork with the attention of an artist admiring the finished canvas. Even coloration. Mission accomplished: beating the crap out of a piece of crap. Think I’ll quit my day job. Got Ikea’s list of dissatisfied, potential customers. A start. This work fits me like this lab coat. The lab coat! “Mind if I keep the lab coat?” No verbal complaint, but a moan. Or was it a groan? “Didn’t think so.”
After she unfastened the restraints, he almost slithered to the floor.
She extended her left hand, palm up, open. Left-handers were once perceived as sinister. “Two deposits, please. Tribute as a tribute.” He complied. Worth paying her … to depart.
With a spring in her step, she walked in the direction of the door, thanking him for his advice. A makeover would complement her change of profession.
“Oh, and I am, as of now, officially a spanker, not a repairperson.” She remembered the “handyman” and washer/drier cracks. “And, in your case, a disciplinarian, as well, brat. And … when we meet again, which you can count on, you can thank me.” She emphasized the words “count” and “thank” which perplexed him. But he would count and thank her upon command at future encounters.

That day, she and he were transformed. Both realized that technology had severe limitations. It lacked human contact, finesse and an understanding of body language and needs with or without words or sounds. And a wicked sense of humor. Their connection was mutually satisfying. Even though if asked now, he would probably spew expletives and complaints. But he would begin to miss her. That bond between two people had a price. It would again be referred to as “tribute”. A word she thought she coined. It was, however, … without her knowledge … in her ancestral blood.

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Yes, Mexico. (Unrelated to Spanking)

 

Readers,

It’s that time of year again – the time of year when I begin to obsess about vacationing. To be fair, I do a pretty large amount of fantasizing about lying around on the beach year ’round, but it gets particularly bad beginning around the first of March. I know spring’s happening soon and that before long it’ll be warm enough to swim…and there I go. Googling ‘best beaches’, ‘cheap vacations in exotic locales’ and ‘how to vacation once a month’, I find a never-ending trail of photos which would make even the most hardcore couch surfer twitch.

There’s Maldives, just about universally agreed to be the most beautiful beach-lovers-hallelujah-place on the planet..

 

 

Then there’s Sardinia..

 

And the Bahamas, which, as reported by astronauts, has the bluest water anywhere on earth..

 

And then there’s Mexico.

Mexico, you say? Isn’t that where people get beheaded and kidnapped and narco’d and stuff? Well, yes, stuff like that does go on there, but it goes on here too, and we already live here.

The area of Mexico called the Yucatan peninsula (Quintana Roo, specifically) has some of the most beautiful beaches anywhere, and almost-shore-access to world class Barrier Reef snorkeling; the place is practically crawling with ancient Mayan ruins – you can’t toss an iguana and not hit something fantastically dark built by people thousands of years ago; and, if you’re at all a connoisseur, Riviera Maya beachside fish tacos are probably the best in the world. I’ve not mentioned yet that one may purchase Cuban cigars there and smoke them in full view of the general public, and one may also rest assured that polite public drunkenness is not only condoned but, in most places, lovingly cultivated.

The point is that I love (this part of) Mexico. While I can’t speak on the state of the entire country, I’ve never witnessed crime of any kind in my visits there, and I’ve also never stayed in one of those fancy-schmancy resorts that feed you sushi and keep you cloistered in with all the other skittish Ameri-Euros – that type of experience just doesn’t seem appealing to me.

The above-mentioned sushi resorts never give you the real local experience, because they’re not meant to. They’re meant to take advantage of the local attraction (in this case, the beach) and turn that into something which closely resembles your comfort zone, i.e. home. They feed you spaghetti and meatballs when the guys in the boats outside are pulling live lobster from the water, and you’re expected to change out of your flip-flops and shorts before they’ll even serve you said meatballs. Phooey! I want to eat local food, interact with actual Mexican people…actually BE in Mexico, for hells sake.

I’ve bisected the Yucatan in my travel there in the past, having seen both the north and southeast shores and toured the interior. I’ve done the big beach town, Cancun, and the island of Cozumel, and both were a bit boisterous but fun, and, although I wasn’t on any private beach, they were still super-touristy; this time, I’m going for something a bit more quiet and secluded. 

If you look hard enough (and believe me, I have looked and looked and looked and…) there are lots of little towns up and down the Mexican Caribbean, none of which require visitors to wear a plastic wristband or participate in ridiculous nightly pool games. One of these is my intended destination this year. There will be much sunblock and many brightly-colored frozen drinks (and don’t forget those Cubans), and probably a few too many renditions of Brown Eyed Girl, but I can’t wait.

Oh, and don’t worry about me. Not only will I be accompanied by my own personal ninja, but I’m pretty damn dangerous my ownself.

 

Daydreaming of paraíso,

Dana

 

 

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Where do they find these girls??

 

Readers,

 

All us spanking video fans have our favorite spanking performers, top and bottom, who we like to watch regularly. We also enjoy the novelty of new models whom we’ve never seen before, especially if it’s their first time on film – gotta love those nervous, under-conditioned, camera shy newbies!

 

One site which seems to find a never-ending stream of female performers who appear to be cut from the archetypal ‘model’ mode is Firm Hand Spanking. From well-known performers to pretty faces (and bottoms) I’ve never seen before, Firm Hand seems to have cornered the market on the Girl Next Door spankees. To prove that I’m not making this up, here are just a few of their most recent models…

 

 

Belinda Lawson

 

 

Adrienne Black

 

 

Helen Baker

 

 

Stephanie Murray

 

 

Stacy Stockton

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The Amazing Noodle! (Unrelated to spanking)

 

I have the most talented cat in the entire universe – but there’s no need in my telling you about it when I can simply show you. I present Noodle the Magnificent :

 

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As you can see, he is completely without fear – staring down the barrel of the bathtub faucet.

 

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Able to sleep comfortably in a box approximately 1/3 his size.

 

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And, most importantly, self-purifying!

 

Fine. Maybe none of that stuff’s terribly impressive, but he’s still just about the cutest cat I ever did see.

–  Dana 

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‘Spank Trek 2099: A Future Oddity

Readers,

Here’s an alternate reality future twist with irony – you’ll enjoy ‘Spank Trek 2099″, another Future Spank entry.

– Dana

Spank Trek 2099: A Future Oddity

Harry Hudley was obsessed with time travel.He had been ever since he had seen the “Back to the Future” trilogy  when he was nine years old. He spent  the next twenty years visualizing, developing and finally creating his own time machine.Though, unemployed, largely self taught and living in his mother’s basement .He had, with unique perception, discovered one of the major secrets of the universe. Of course, He had attached the rather minimalist device to his car which, in his case, was a five year old Hyundai.

    Now ready and tuned into 2099, he pushes GO and holds on. There is a loud pop and a bright flash.His cat, Mr Sulu, nearly bounces off the ceiling and the Hyundai disappears in a spiraling swirl of smoke.

   It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before.The entire village was made up of of conical, rectangular and round igloo shaped buidings all comprised of the same hard synthetic plastic material. There were no poles carrying power, telephone or cable wire but instead small radar-like antennae on top of each building. Very  peculiar, he thinks, as he watches first one then another and another lone male running down the street and each being closely pursued by a group of women attired in very short skirts,  short shorts, sleeveless tops and athletic shoes. Some of them seem to be carrying some type of object or device.

  OOOMMPHHH!!! OW! “Hey, what the…”Crossing in front of an alley Harry is charged, tackled and taken down  by a rather full bodied , raven haired girl of exceptional strength. She quickly places sticky tape over his mouth.”I saw him first! He’s mine! Help me get him over on the bench!”Completely overpowered by the boisterous bevy of beauties, Harry is instantly hauled over Daniela’s lap.Blonde MiMi pulls down his baggy shorts and purple boxers.

Anything but athletic with tousled black hair and rather narrow shoulders, a slim upper body leading down to somewhat wider hips and a full, fleshy bottom, he is easy putty in their strong hands. Daniela is euphoric.”OOH, Yeah!  This is the most seriously spankable bottom we’ve captured all day.”  “Hey,I want a piece of that cute butt!” “No way Sheena! Its one spanking per capture, and this sweet can is  all mine!”Daniela begins wailing into Harry’s upturned bottom with a rapid flurry of sharp smacks.” MiMi lifts up his tape.”Lets hear what he’s got to say.” EEEEEEOOOWWWW!!! She giggles and quickly replaces the tape.Sheena chimes in “Hey! You’re using your hand! Just like a little girl would.Something wrong with your electro paddle?”Harry’s bottom quivers like marmalade from Daniela’s machine like spanks.She grins in ecstasy ” Sometimes the old fashioned ways are best!”

   Finally relenting, Daniela releases him.As Harry bends low to pull up his shorts, Sheena’s temptation is too great.She whacks him twice, in quick succession with her electro paddle set to the “sheer agony” setting.EEEEEYYYYAGGGOOHH!!! Stung by a hundred angry bees on each cheek,almost simultaneously. Harry, as if shot from a cannon, shoots across the street, like a scalded cat, his shorts at half mast.All the girls except an angry Daniela, fall about laughing.

   Two husky Amazonian proportioned female patrol officers, helmeted and  aboard sleek bullet shaped road bikes, observe Harry cross the middle of the road. Tanya nods and smiles at her partner, Carly. “Fresh meat, Carly!  A barebutt jaywalker!”  “Lets go”!”

  The two patrol officers pull up alongside Harry, just as he manages to pull up his shorts.”What have we got here, public indecency and Oh, my! Jaywalking!” Tanya snaps on plastic cuffs and Carly positions him over the seat of the strutted bullet bike.MMMPPHHH!!! He struggles to speak but his mouth is still sealed with tape.

“That’s four lashes of the enforcement strap for each offense.Total of eight and lucky for you we haven’t been issued the new plasma canes yet.Eight strokes with one of those would have you howling like a banshee and trying to jump over the moon!”MMMPPHHH!!!! “Should we let ‘im talk? ” Nahhh! I just want to wail into that cute fat butt, of his.” The big leather jacketed policewomen take positions each side of Harry and, in tandem,  began flailing,with a wilful zeal, into his already crimson red bottom with their heavy black doubled over leather straps.The tape became loose enough, now, that he somehow managed to spew it out. “You people are crazzzeee!!!  AArrrghhhowwohhh!! Tanya is grinning.” Well, that was fun!He is a lively one, isn’t he!” Carly releases him and they both go off in pursuit of two running males on the next street.

  Harry quickly pulls on his shorts and rubs his sore swollen bottom. He had often fantasized about being spanked by a mean but sexy teacher or a matronly conservative female attorney, or even to be captured and chastised by a rogue group of hot sorority girls, but this was insane!
What kind of world did he land in?

  Before he could give the situation any further thought he notices sunlight reflecting off chrome.It was his Hyundai, where it had rematerialized, in the park across the street.He wanted to take something to prove where he had been but nothing, at hand, was removable. A loud pop on his right causes him to turn around.There is a bursting flash of light which seems to spread out and then dissolve, almost instantly. Then another, higher up.Then burning agony! As if molten candle wax had been splashed across his inflamed butt cheeks! It was Sheena! Leading a wild eyed group of girls!She was firing some kind of plasma energy gun at him and with deadly accuracy! OOOWWWWOOOO!!!! Another hit! And now his shorts were smoking! Bolting toward the park he sees Daniela closing in quickly with another group of wild spanking vixens! With an agility born of wild desperation he takes a flying leap over several bushes and through the open  window of the Hyundai.He quickly adjusts the controls and slams the GO button, flashing out and disappearing in spiraling smoke just as Daniela and her friends arrive.

   Harry never got to read the large sign, hovering just above,on the  opposite side of his car.It reads: SECOND ANNUAL SPACEWAYS CITY SPANKATORIUM DAY ANY MALE CAUGHT ON THE STREETS BETWEEN THE HOURS OF TWELVE NOON AND TWELVE MIDNIGHT IS FAIR GAME  FOR THE LADIES! ALL DISCIPLINARY IMPLEMENTS PERMITTED.HARDCORE PLAYERS ESPECIALLY ENJOYED!

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Las Vegas Anecdote (Unrelated to Spanking)

 

Celebrity sightings are nothing unusual in Las Vegas, especially in the big hotels and clubs on the strip. But get a couple miles off the strip and things get relatively normal, fast. Soccer moms, shift workers, and lots of really old luxury cars are the norm in my neighborhood, and I like it that way…seeing fancy millionaires dressed down and drunk doesn’t really appeal.

So imagine my surprise when I ran into a real, live celebrity (read: someone you’ve heard of and who has more money than you, although you’re not sure why either of those things are so) at my neighborhood Whole Foods!

Okay, I didn’t actually run into him…more like almost ran over. With my cart. Luckily, he’s a tall and healthy specimen who would’ve likely not only survived the impact but done so without displacing a single golden lock.

That’s right, folks.

I’m talking about Fabio.

Was he shopping for yummy vegan, muscle-toning munchies?  Nope.

Cruising the organic produce section for a new, fitness model girlfriennd? Wrong again.

Oh wait, I know! He was there to meet for lunch with a producer and wanted to seem ‘down to earth’. That’s it, right?  Yeah, no.

Fabio was at the Whole Foods store hawking his new line of something. Honestly, I can’t tell you what it was because his jeans were so excruciatingly tight that everything within a six foot radius became blurry. Also, cowboy boots. Cowboy boots with supertight skinny jeans. Can I just tell you that this is not a good look on anyone? (There’s a reason you don’t see this image on the cover of any Harlequin romance novels.)

Anyway, the ladies were all aflutter and I overheard one well-dressed woman say, succinctly, “Oh god. Oh god. Ohgod ohgod ohgod.”

Viva Las Vegas….and D list celebrities.

–  Dana

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Fair Warning

 

(PS. If you’re a member of one of these sites, please have the decency to NOT participate in illegally sharing my content. I give away dozens of free vids, sessions, toys, and all manner of crap..if you’re such a fan, why steal from me?

I don’t get it…)

 

This isn’t fairytale spankingland, nor is it the place where there are no consequences for one’s actions. It may be the internet, but it’s also still the Real World.

Sharing/downloading/watching content which I’ve produced without my express consent is against the law, as we all well know…right?

There are several places on the internet where users regularly trade in illegally shared material, and I know about all of them. I also know who the admins are for these sites, and the offending users. You see, IPs are stored when you visit any site, and legal representatives have rightful access to that information. So you’re not REALLY invisible – are you?

Nope.

Remember that.

 

–  Dana

 

 

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‘Wise Choices?’ : Fun Future Spank entry

Here’s another fun, futuristic entry to the Future Spank contest – ‘Wise Choices?’. Enjoy!

– Dana

Wise Choices?

“Make wise choices,” was the last thing my mom said before she stepped into the flying car with my dad. They were going to a luxury resort on Mars, and I had reluctantly agreed to come home from the University of Mars to watch the house over my spring break. Being at home was the last thing I wanted to do, but since I knew my parents would be gone the entire week, I had agreed to do it.
“Yeah, right!” was what I wanted to say. Instead I just looked at her and said “yes, Mom. I will.”
We lived in a sprawling city on the moon, filled with an active nightlife and amazing clubs. I had no intention of just staying home this week!
The door closed behind her, and not even two seconds later, the car flew out of site. I sighed with relief. I loved my parents, really I did, but we’d had a turbulent relationship for years, and I didn’t spend any more time at home than I had to.
I ran inside to my room and changed into my short silver metallic skirt and a sparkly black tank top. I had on knee high black boots to complete my outfit. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and applied a coat of red lipstick.
“That will do nicely.” I grabbed my purse and walked from our complex to the teleport center. I selected Club Nox from the menu, and waited. A second later a rocket transporter appeared. I stepped inside and sat down. Less than a minute later I arrived at the teleport center outside of Club Nox, the hottest night club on the moon. There were touch screen food and drink menus, flashing and color-changing lights, and there was always amazing music.
“Becca!” my best friend Jenny screamed as I walked over. She threw her arms around me. I threw my arms around her and hugged her back. “How’s school?”
“Ugh! It’s hard. I’m behind on my reading and got a B- on my last paper for Intergalaxy Communication,” I sighed. “I just need to blow off some steam this week.”
“Aw, I’m sorry Becca. Is everything okay? It’s not like you to be behind or struggling in classes. You love that stuff!”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “I really don’t want to talk about school right now, Jenny. I just want to have a drink and get out on the dance floor.” Truth be told, everything wasn’t okay. I was struggling in school and had been for awhile. I had turned in a few late assignments, was behind on my reading, and wasn’t doing as well as I normally did on tests. I had lost my usual motivation and drive to succeed, and really didn’t know what to do about it.
“Okay,” Jenny said quietly. “Well, you know I’m around if you want to talk.”
“I know. Thanks, Jenny.”
We walked over to the bar and ordered Electric Cosmopolitans from the menu. My parents didn’t approve of my drinking, but I was old enough and didn’t care what they thought. Besides, they weren’t home. How would they even know?
“Becca!” My friend Jack said walking over to Jenny and I. “Don’t you look like a walking felony! I ought to pull you over my knee and spank you for that short skirt,” he said swatting my bottom with a glint in his eyes.
“That could be fun,” I said with a smile. I hadn’t been spanked in years and was only spanked by Nanny, the robot that took care of my older siblings and me, never by my parents. Maybe that’s why our relationship was so turbulent. I was loved, disciplined, and cared for by a robot more than I was by my parents. I was curious as to what a human hand felt like and what the closeness of that experience might be like.
“Maybe later,” Jack said. “Let’s dance!”
“Okay.” I quickly finished my Cosmo and followed Jack onto the dance floor. I had liked him since we were in high school, and we often spent time together when I was home during school breaks.
Several hours and one more drink later, I knew I should get home. I didn’t have a curfew, as I was way too old for one and my parents weren’t even home to care, but I knew I shouldn’t stay out as late as I often did.
I gave Jenny a hug, and then Jack pulled me close to him and hugged me, followed by a simple, sweet kiss. It was the first time we had kissed and I was on cloud 9.
“Call me when you wake up,” he said walking me to the teleport center.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll spank you!” he said with a wink and quick, hard swat.
I laughed. “Good night, Jack,” I said as the rocket transporter appeared.
“Good night, Becca,” he said, kissing me again.
I smiled and stepped inside the rocket transporter. I sat down, and less than a minute later I was at the teleport center outside of our complex. I walked slowly towards our house. “What an amazing night!” I thought, smiling again.
As I approached my house, I stopped. I noticed a few lights were on. “I thought I turned everything off…” I said to no one in particular. I hesitated and placed my finger on the finger scanner which unlocked the front door. “Hello?” I called out and hesitantly stepped inside. “Is anyone here?” The door closed behind me automatically, and I suddenly felt trapped.
Only silence greeted me. Then I heard a familiar humming sound that I hadn’t heard in seven or eight years. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, and debated running.
“Miss Rebecca, where on earth have you been, and what are you wearing?! That skirt is entirely too short for a twenty one year old young lady!”
I remained frozen by the door as Nanny moved close to me. I took a deep breath and implored myself to start talking. “I really have nothing to be afraid of! I’m an adult, and did nothing wrong!” I told myself.
“Nanny! What are you doing here? My parents retired you years ago,” was all I could say.
“Yes, when you became too old to need me anymore. Your mother thought you might need some looking after this week, and it appears she was right. Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“It’s one thirty,” I said quietly. “I’m an adult and don’t have a curfew anymore!” I said with more confidence.
“On the contrary, Miss Becca, when your parents programmed me, your curfew was 12:30, so you are an hour late, missy! What happens when you break the rules?”
I couldn’t believe what was happening! When my parents created Nanny’s program, they had created it so any rule violation resulted in a spanking. Bad language further resulted in a mouth soaping. It didn’t matter that I was an adult! I was still subject to the rules that were in place as if I were a child!
“Miss Becca,” Nanny said, gently raising my chin so I would look at her, “what happens when you break the rules?”
“I get spanked,” I said quietly. “This isn’t fair! I’m an adult!”
“I know,” she said gently. “But even adults need a spanking sometimes.” She took me by the arm and guided me to the couch in the living room. I was indignant, but knew from experience that fighting back was useless. Once Nanny’s program recognized that a spanking was earned, a spanking would be given. Any fighting or resisting on my part would only make things worse. “You didn’t answer my question, Miss Becca. Where were you tonight?”
“I went to Club Nox with some of my friends.”
“You’ve been drinking,” Nanny said matter-of-factly.
“Yes. I had a couple Cosmos. I’m old enough, and it’s perfectly legal for me to drink.”
“Yes, but your parents don’t approve.”
“No…” I started. “Please tell me you’re not going to spank me for that!” I was begging now. “It’s not illegal for me to drink. It’s not fair to spank me for that!”
“We’ll see,” Nanny said slowly. “This was a grey area for your parents and there is no programmed punishment for drinking once you’re old enough, only that they don’t like it when you drink.”
I didn’t say anything. Nanny had always been more than fair when it came to punishing me. Nanny took me by the arm and guided me over her lap. I took a deep breath as she slowly began to spank me over my skirt. My skirt barely covered my bottom and really didn’t offer much protection.
Nanny might be a robot, but she looked and acted like a human. She was small, petite, and about five and a half feet tall, only a little taller then I was. She had short, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. I had learned long ago not to underestimate her size though. She had the ability to hold me fast, making any escape an impossibility, and would deliver a harsh spanking when it was warranted.
“This isn’t so bad,” I thought. I knew I would be crying hard long before my punishment was over though. The swats were slow and medium hard to begin with. I felt myself actually relax as I accepted my fate. Even though I was in for much worse, it was almost a relief to be held accountable for something again. I realized that I actually craved the physical discipline that Nanny had so adeptly provided me as I grew up.
“Nanny?” I said slowly.
“Yes, Miss Becca?” she said continuing to spank me as she talked.
I took a deep breath. Even though I knew I would be punished, I knew I needed to tell her about school. I knew the discipline would help me get back on track.
“I’ve been struggling with school lately. I’ve turned in a few late assignments, I’m behind on my reading, and I’m not doing as well as I normally do on tests. I’m not meeting my own expectations.” Nanny didn’t say anything, but flipped up my skirt and delivered several dozen hard and fast swats. I started squirming and cried out in pain. She paused after a few minutes, then started spanking me slow but hard again. “I feel lost, overwhelmed, and am floundering,” I said once I caught my breath again. “I don’t have any motivation, or my usual drive to succeed.”
“Would I be correct in saying that you’re not taking good care of yourself right now? Staying out late, not getting enough sleep, not eating as well as you should, and not exercising enough?”
“Yes, Nanny,” I said quietly.
“You are out of control right now, Miss Becca,” Nanny said rubbing my bottom. “You are wearing clothing that is not becoming of a young lady, drinking, not staying ahead in your classes, and not taking care of yourself in general. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Nanny,” I said quietly.
“I am really going to spank you hard tonight, Rebecca! You clearly need it! You cannot ignore and stop taking care of yourself. That ends tonight!”
“Yes ma’am.” I knew she was right. I truly needed the physical discipline, and always felt better after it was over. “You’re absolutely right. I need the discipline and accountability, and my parents never provided me that, even though there were many times after they retired you that I deserved and needed to be spanked. Why is it that you care about me more than they do? Why am I not worth it to them?” I started crying.
“You are worth it, Becca, and your parents do love you. Your mother re-activated me because she recognized that something was wrong with you and that you needed someone to talk to. Rather than bottle up your emotions, you need to talk to your parents. Holding in your feelings is not healthy and it is hurting you. I won’t tolerate that, Miss Becca!”
“Yes, Nanny.”
Nanny put her hand in the waistband of my panties and slowly pulled them down. I resisted the urge to put my hand back. I knew I needed this spanking, as bad as it was going to be. I instinctively trusted Nanny to spank me as much as I needed and to give me what I deserved.
Without saying a word, she began spanking me hard and fast. I had forgotten how much her “hand” hurt! Within a minute I found myself squirming as the stinging in my bottom built rapidly.
“Hold still, Becca!” Nanny admonished me.
“I’m trying!”
I grabbed onto the seat cushion and held on tight. I buried my head in the cushions as the tears began to fall. I took slow deep breaths, and tried to stay still. I didn’t want to have my arms or legs pinned as Nanny had done so many times before. I already felt helpless as it was. I continued to cry softly and yelped when she delivered several stinging swats to the sit spot, the point where the lower curve of my bottom meets the top of my thighs. I knew I would be feeling this spanking for days every time I sat down, stood up, or pulled my pants on.
By the time Nanny finally paused, my bottom was on fire. “Miss Becca, that skirt of yours is entirely too short and inappropriate for a young woman to be wearing.”
“Nanny, you’ve been retired for years. It’s the fashion and everyone’s wearing them now!”
“You won’t be, by the time I’m through with you, young lady! Your skirts will go past your hands at the very least, and I would prefer if they were longer. Is that understood?”
I didn’t say anything, which was probably the worst thing I could have done in retrospect. I was an adult and there was no way I would let Nanny decide my wardrobe choices! Nanny somehow knew what I was thinking, and began spanking my thighs. Her hand moved quickly down my right thigh then back up again, focusing several stinging swats on the sit spot before moving over to my left thigh. I involuntarily yelped, squirmed, and started crying all over again. My resistance quickly broke down. Once Nanny had thoroughly spanked my left thigh and delivered several more stinging blows to my sit spot, she paused and rested her hand on my back.
“How long will your skirts be, young lady?”
“Past my hands,” I choked out. “Well, at least when I’m at home!” I thought.
“That is correct. And don’t think you can get away with wearing short skirts at school, Miss Rebecca. I’ve communicated with a friend of mine who works at the University of Mars. She will be watching you from now on, and will hold you accountable for your wardrobe choices, as well as for your school work.”
My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
“What? Who’s your friend? You’re a robot…” was all I could say.
“Yes, and even robots have friends and the ability to communicate with each other over a charge they have in common, missy!” she said with a quick, hard swat. I yelped, and nearly jumped a foot.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s okay, Becca. My friend is Miss Jones, your Intergalaxy Communication professor.”
“I should have known. You are so much alike!”
“I’ve heard that before. She is concerned about you, and is more than willing to keep an eye on you and hold you accountable.”
I nodded. “I think that would help me stay on track.”
“Yes it will. You’re a bright girl, but need a little guidance and direction.”
“Yes, Nanny.”
“Now, speaking of school. You received a B- on your last Intergalaxy Communication paper, is that correct?”
“Yes ma’am.” I was shocked that she knew things I hadn’t told her after being in storage for seven or eight years, and had clearly communicated with my university professors.
“Was it your best work?”
“No…” I said quietly.
“How do you propose we address this?”
I knew what she wanted me to say. “With the brush,” I said quietly.
“Good, I think so too.” I heard the compartment on her right arm open and watched out of the corner of my eye as the dreaded brush appeared. I braced myself as Nanny tightened her grip around my waist. Nanny had given my bottom enough time to recover so even a medium swat was excruciating. She didn’t need to spank me with all of her strength to get her point across. She didn’t hold back though, and delivered dozens of stinging swats in rapid succession. I squirmed and tried to get away, but her left hand held me tightly against her. The tears were flowing freely and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. My breathing became rapid and shallow, and I was close to hyperventilating when Nanny suddenly stopped. It felt like she had spanked me forever, but in reality it had only been about five minutes, maybe less.
“Breathe, Becca,” she said, gently rubbing my bottom and back. I forced myself to take slow deep breaths and felt myself calm down. “It’s only a spanking. We’re almost done.” I nodded and continued to breathe deeply. “I have the feeling you won’t be falling behind in school any time soon.”
“No ma’am.”
“Becca, there is nothing wrong with a B- if you’ve done your best on your assignment, essay or test. If you haven’t studied or put in the time you should, that’s unacceptable.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Miss Jones is going to check in with you. If you fall behind, or do anything less than your best in any class, she will spank you. Oh, and she can easily tell when you’re lying, just like I can.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said again.
“Now, we still have the matter of you breaking curfew to resolve.”
“Nanny, please. I’ve been punished enough,” I begged.
“I think I’ll be the judge of that, Miss Rebecca. You were an hour late. Do you think you’ve been punished adequately for that?”
The way Nanny phrased the question, I instinctively knew what the answer she expected was. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I hadn’t been punished enough for breaking curfew and being an hour late yet.
“I’m an adult and haven’t had a curfew in years!” I complained, instead of answering the question. “It’s not fair to spank me for violating a rule I didn’t even know was in place!” It was a logical argument, though I knew my whinny voice wasn’t helping my case.
“That may be, but how many times did you break curfew in high school where you weren’t spanked?”
Ugh! She had me trapped and I knew it. I had absolutely no way to win this argument.
“Too many times to count,” I admitted reluctantly.
“Would you rather be spanked for all those infractions or just for being an hour late tonight?”
“Being an hour late,” I said quietly. I knew the punishment for being an hour late would be way more tolerable than if she calculated how many times I had legitimately broken curfew and how late I had been those times, but hadn’t been punished.
“Good choice. And you broke curfew 14 times and were a total of 4 hours late, by the way.”
“How do you know that?!”
“I can see on the house log when you scanned your finger to enter the house.”
“Oh…” was the only thing I could say. Ugh! Robots were too smart sometimes!
“Instead of punishing you for that, I’m only going to punish you for being an hour late tonight. Is that right?”
“Yes ma’am,” I said quietly.
“Alright then.” I heard the compartment on her right arm open again and watched out of the corner of my eye as the brush went away and the belt came out. She folded it in half so she could administer it with me still held firmly in place over her lap. “You will receive one stroke of the belt for every minute you were late.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said quietly. I hated the belt, but was grateful she hadn’t picked a paddle.
Nanny re-adjusted me and tightened her grip around my waist. I knew she would pin my arms and legs if I interfered with my punishment. I took a deep breath as the first stinging hit landed square on my bottom. “Owww!” I cried out. My bottom was already very sore, and even a medium hard slap of the belt was excruciating. “Breathe, Becca. We still have a ways to go.”
I took slow, deep breaths, and tried to keep count of the strokes. It made it a little easier to cope with the pain. It wasn’t long before I was crying again. The first 20 strokes were paced about 5 seconds apart. She picked up the tempo after that, and I stopped counting after 25 strokes. I was really crying, and prayed that every stroke was the last. A few minutes later it was over, and I was shaking. Nanny gently rubbed my bottom and my back as I calmed down.
“Becca, I may be a robot, but I love you and care about you, and I’m not going to let you give up on yourself or stop taking care of yourself. You are worth it. You have to believe that!” she said soothingly.
“Yes, Nanny.”
Nanny gently pulled up my underwear and patted my bottom. Even that love tap was excruciating and I almost started crying again. Nanny helped me up and guided me towards my room. She pulled out my pajamas. I went to the bathroom and changed. I quickly looked at my bottom in the mirror. It was dark red and peppered with bruises and welts from the brush and belt. It was one of the worst spankings I had ever had, but I felt so much better than I had before the spanking. I got a bunch of lotion and rubbed it into my well spanked bottom. I quickly washed my face and walked to my bedroom. Nanny had turned off my light and pulled back the covers. I handed her my clothes and gave her a long hug before climbing into bed. I winced as my bottom touched the mattress and quickly rolled over onto my stomach, but not before noticing the smile that crossed Nanny’s face. She laughed as she placed my clothes in the laundry hamper where they vanished in an instant. They would be returned to my closet by the time the sun was up. I had no intention of wearing my short silver skirt anytime soon though! Nanny pulled up the covers and sat on my bed, rubbing my back and stroking my hair as she had done many times before. I breathed a contented sigh of relief.
“How do you feel, Becca?”
“Better than I have in a long time. I feel safe. I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders…Thank you, Nanny. I really needed to be spanked and held accountable for my actions.”
“You’re welcome, Becca…but don’t think for even a minute that you won’t be paddled before the week is over!”
“Stop reading my mind!” I said laughing.
“Oh, Becca. I can’t read minds. I can just read your body language.”
I rolled my eyes. “Would you come back to school with me?” I asked after a minute. “You could visit Miss Jones…and I would like having you around again.”
“I’d like that, Becca. I’d like that very much.” Nanny continued to rub my back and stroked my hair until I fell asleep. I slept more soundly than I had in a long time, and knew that everything was going to be okay. I felt confident in myself again, and was happy with how tonight had turned out, even if it was at the expense of my being able to sit comfortably for a few days!

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The Miscreants and the Top-Bots : Future Spank story

The Future Spank contest was a surprise to me, as I didn’t think we’d have nearly as many well-written entries. Here’s another, titled “The Miscreants and the Top-Bots”.
– Dana
The Miscreants & the Top-Bots (Spanking at Maximum Efficiency)

The year is indiscriminate.  There is no measure to keep up with time. Not for the Miscreants who must be kept to a strict training regime, regardless of whether the sun or moon is shining.  For them, the future has outgrown a reason to keep track of the days.  At least here, on Planet Degroot, where the greatest concern is re-educating criminals that have offended against Nature: The Earth and their fellow citizens.  These offenders come to Planet Degroot, in groups at a time, to learn how to re-inhabit and contribute to the wellbeing of Plant Earth while transitioning from inoperable to responsible human beings that could better humanity after being programmed with a bit of tough love and strict conditioning.
The problem with Earth Defilers suggests an underlying disregard in general that extends to people, animals and the planet at large. A pattern emerging amongst the Miscreants at Planet Degroot was their lack of respect, their non-interest in keeping Earth inhabitable, their spoiled rotten natures that saw no consequences for undesirable behaviors.  Eons after the traditional 50’s era on Earth, emerging generations became less and less disciplined. Parental figures reared offspring to develop an absurd sense of entitlement, which then morphed into greater absurdity with the next generation of offspring.
With Generation Delta, there was an influx of havoc: underage drinking and use of drugs, piloting vehicles while intoxicated, dumping waste from high efficiency flying scooters while jetting to work or school, loitering on privately owned floating properties, destroying natural habitats to build steel fortresses equipped with technology so advanced one could teleport between floors by standing in a narrow tube in one room, pressing a button, and emerging in another narrow tube in a different room.  Technology had become the Ruling Force for the Miscreants, rendering them lazy and useless.
Of course technology serves its greater purpose, insuring a riot would ensue were any measures taken to place severe restrictions on it.  One President had tried by ordering the judges impose harsh sanctions for abusing the Earth and behaving recklessly.  Across all states there was the implementation of curfews, fines and technological restrictions that caused a communal withdrawal and heavy backlash.
A popular finger app reserved solely for Congressional members voted the President be impeached for Treason against Technology.  One of the traditions that remained stable throughout the centuries was the government, but President Grasso’s imminent removal from office signaled that even this was coming to an end.
The next President, Tracie D’Vanzio, had to make some quick decisions.  She was voted into office mostly because she agreed to release the overpopulated jails that were overflowing with what the former President called Miscreants, those who committed misdemeanor crimes without being pardoned or paroled, no matter how minor the offense.  She was hoping to deter bad behavior by punishing even small instances of it, but her plan was not successful. The situation was dire.
The Heads of State originally agreed the situation needed to be brought under control, but they quickly discarded the idea when the President’s interference with state regulations bought an unprecedented chaos to their jurisdictions.  Computer engineers were working day and night to develop an app that would interest people in their own salvation. As it turns out, it would take more than an app for that.
Offenders let off with a figurative slap on the wrist became repeat offenders.  Jail proved to have no effect, yet judges had no alternatives. The new President Andrea D’Vanzio jumped on the bandwagon to join the program to keep offenders out of jail by rehabilitating them with discipline and corporal punishment; on a nearby planet where democracy was not an option.
Other countries had instituted this practice for decades now with a moderately high success rate.  The detainees on Planet Degroot were to be subjected to a reasonable amount of technological withdrawal to reprogram their brains with values that died centuries ago.  They were subjected to educational courses, schooled in manners and respect, taught how to engage each other and most importantly: how to return to their Homelands as better people; a condition of their release being to share their knowledge both formally and informally with other humans. Many became teachers and did what they could to help their students balance the past with the future for the betterment of themselves, their children and future children, and the Earth itself.
Ava McIntire was officially the first detainee released from an overcrowded prison and sent on a shuttle to Planet Degroot.  She was sentenced to 1 year (the minimum) for loitering, littering and acquiring her 2nd FWI (Flying While Intoxicated).  Ava was a woman in her mid-20’s that did not mature into a responsible adult. She acted indifferently while stationed against the wall of the Graviton, a circular shuttle used to transport the Miscreants.  Ava was one of 60; each inmate having his or her own section of wall that they became secured to once the shuttle was in flight. To ensure they could not create any greater mischief, they were glued to the walls by gravity for the 2 hours it took to reach Planet Degroot.
When the prisoners arrived at their destinations, they were surprised to find this new Planet resembling Planet Earth Centuries ago; it was like walking into a history book or an old film. This was the anti-future.  The atmosphere was meant to mimic that of the 1950’s.  Only stray blue-silver and lavendar-chrome robots, meant to keep the Miscreants at bay, were any indication that this was the present time.
Gorgeous male and female bots looked like human beings that had been dipped in silver or chrome and polished to perfection, their beautifully toned muscles prepared to dole out discipline if necessary.  However, it was generally preferred that discipline be more traditional and carried out by people that did not look like super-heroes.  But these superhero-like bot disciplinarians served their purposes.
However, they also had to answer to a higher authority; their robotic bottoms not spared a good thrashing were it deemed necessary.  To any onlooker it would appear that a layer of steel protected them for any corporal discipline. This was not the case. These bots that kept the highest order were graduates of the program that remained on Planet Degroot to maintain order. They were programmed with a strong shell exterior whose only weakness was a less protective coating over the hind quarters in case they were in need of a humble reminder.
There were no jails or prisons on Planet DeGroot.  Only corners with naughty Miscreants sticking their faces to the wall, red plush bottoms on display with boxers or panties around quivering knees. Other forms of punishment included kneeling on rice, writing lines and essays, detention and of course, spanking and all its variants.
The one who reigned over Planet DeGroot went by the name of Dana Kane.  Those who worked under her were known as Top-Bots and were responsible for doling out the discipline to wayward Miscreants. Although eventually most of the naughty ones were straightened out, and even able to set an example for those that came after them, most of the newbies had a hard time adjusting.
One of the biggest problems at Planet DeGroot was the new Miscreants banding together and stealing the corporal punishment instruments: burying them, burning them, hiding them.  Ms. Kane felt that it would be unauthentic to have 24/7 surveillance monitoring these scoundrels. With the help of her futuristic robot friends, she was able to devise an experiment by having a team work to create bionic arms for the Disciplinarian’s.  Although everyone was still essentially human with some minor technological tweaks (and armor), Ms. Kane named her entourage the “Top-Bots” due to this experimental procedure.
The arms fashioned for the Top-Bots were a revolutionary spanking idea.  The arm and hand looked ordinary, but a surgical procedure implanted a device within the limb, palm and fingers that eradicated the need for implements.  A lot of Earth trees were spared now that they needn’t be used as canes, paddles or switches. The machine was implanted beneath the skin and had discrete buttons that could be switched on and off by touching the underside of the wrist, all the way up to the forearm.
These buttons measured the intensity of the force used to administer a spanking.  It also assured that there was no bias.  Every offense of the same nature was punished with a calculated formula that was imputed into each machine.  This levelled out the playing field when some of the offenders complained that they were being punished more severely for the same offense as someone else because their Disciplinarian was larger or stronger, or because they had physical limitations that were not being considered.
The machine eliminated this problem as the machines were programmed in equal proportions. Every swat to every offender, doled out by every Top would be exactly the same in intensity across the board.  Of course the calculations would factor in the height, weight, physical makeup and individual frailties of the offending party. In the end it would equal out.  Any wayward complaints were now just pointblank lies that were misdemeanor offenses on Planet Degroot, and of course worthy of punishment.
The only original concern regarding the Robotic Hand was that it ran on batteries and while still in the experimental phases, it was unclear if they would run out.  Because the batteries could not be easily replaced without the Top-Bots having to undergo another procedure, the government programs responsible for sending these Miscreants to Planet DeGroot for rehabilitation had to incur the almost exorbitant expense of reliable power sources.
It was decided that the Robotic Hand would be powered with Duracell Quantum Infinity, the Duracell line of batteries having evolved well into the future.  This brand was solar powered, and also could acquire a charge from dimmer light sources, including the soft illumination from the moon or even your average light tablet or more sophisticated caning saber (which was reserved for the most grave offenses and guarded by a Bot whose only job it was to make sure nobody but the Top-Bots got anywhere near the punishment tool).  This light-powered formula guaranteed the batteries would not run out of juice. Duracell Quantum Infinity was used for all Robotic Hands as the threat of a malfunction could compromise an entire punishment operation which might inspire mockery and a Miscreant rebellion.  Ms. Kane had all the possibilities worked out as she developed the concept.
Dana Kane was a strict Disciplinarian who would not allow her Miscreants to run amok.  She took great pride in her system, which was bringing back the intimacy of tradition so that these offenders could learn that life without undeserved luxury and technology seeping out of their pores was a possible and enlightening endeavor.  She was the June Cleaver with a caning saber, dripping with that 50’s sitcom sweetness and wit… but with a twist, she was a woman completely undeterred to bare a naughty bottom and swiftly administer this oxymoronic justice that combined the past with the present, and technically also the future.
Planet DeGroot was Ms. Kane’s Pride.  She was granted permission from the Earth authorities to name her Planet once she took over.  Her predecessor (although successful) was not living up to his expectations and was asked to retire early. She chose DeGroot after the beautiful, narrow evergreen that was easy to trim to one’s desire.  Growing in rows of harmony on earth, she did not think it a bad idea to mimic the concept to suit her purposes.  Each Miscreant was like one of these precious evergreens, needing a certain amount of attention to prune them where they would then grow side by side in synchronization without encroaching on each other’s space.  They were trained to grow tall rather than wide, to work together.  With tender guidance, true beauty was possible.
Ava DeGroot was nothing like an evergreen, if anything she was a weed. Popping up everywhere she didn’t belong. Littering. Loitering. Wrecking things. Abusing alcohol. Strangling her relationships. Impossible to tame. Ms. Kane greeted her at the door of the shuttle, as she did all the new Miscreants. She generally just shook their hands and introduced herself as she gave them the once over, instinct alerting her to who was going to be trouble. Her internal radar went off as Ava passed her.
“Excuse me, young lady,” Ms. Kane pulled her over to the side, “I’m going to need to take whatever it is that is in your hand there.”
Ava looked down.  “You can’t take this.  It’s my i-Pod Touch from the 21st century.  It’s vintage.  I need to listen to Miley Cyrus; she’s a classic. Also, I’m a die-hard frozen-in-time Belieber. Anyway, this was handed down to me from generations. I’m kinda a traditionalist.” Ava licked her lips nonchalantly, a habit she had when she was annoyed.
Ms. Kane eyed her suspiciously, but not offensively. She was familiar with her type. “You can keep it for now,” she said. “And please tone down that shirt a few notches.”
Ava huffed, agitated. She pressed the button on her shirt so that its glowing neon colors came to a halt and became a shade of distilled pink.
Ms. Kane directed everyone to the large meeting hall in 2 hours from their time of arrival, after a light meal was to be served to the Miscreants.  At the meeting hall, Ms. Kane was dressed in a polka dot shirt, a long skirt that fell to her ankles and pumps that made her appear taller. For such a proper person, it was difficult for her to look out at the audience before her with its inappropriate attire.  The newbies were supposed to have gotten uniforms before getting on the shuttle, but that tradition had been eradicated once the Miscreants began destroying their clothing before they arrived at Planet DeGroot.
Because corporal punishment could not commence immediately due to the large volume of detainees that would need immediate disciplining, which the Miscreants well knew, the uniforms were now to be given the day of arrivals and expected to be worn the next morning.  Ms. Kane explained all of the behaviors that were cause for punishment, of which there were many.  She went over the specific consequences, the schedule, the training programs, the introduction of the staff and of course, the Robotic Hand.
Ms. Kane didn’t presume to be taken seriously at this stage of the game.  She preferred it this way.  It was more enjoyable to earn respect than to expect it. This is the same philosophy she taught to her Top-Bots, who although had literal iron fists were not allowed rule with them in any way that suggested an abuse of authority.
Back in her study, Ms. Kane awaited Ava.  She knew she would be sent there for some reason or another.  She had guessed one of the Top-Bots would have her sent over for discipline before the 10:00pm curfew. Almost right on the money, a disgruntled Top-Bot brought the woman in for an offense that couldn’t be properly punished because it had never been committed before, nor was it anticipated to be committed.
“I don’t know what to do,” Senior Top-Bot Ms. Jane said frantically as she thrust open the door to Ms. Kane’s office, not even bothering to knock. She held an angry Ava by the scruff of her neck and pushed her inside.  Ava’s features transformed into a smirk when she saw a dismayed Ms. Kane.
“What in the holy heck is going on here?” Ms. Dana asked.
“What is going on?” Ms. Jane repeated. “What is going on?  All of the Miscreant females are “twerking” to someone who goes by the name of Mikey Cy..”
“Miley,” Ava interrupted.
Ms. Jane threw up her hands in agitation. “MILEY Cyrus and the male Miscreants are grabbing their…” Her face flushed as she said the words.  She spit them out hurriedly, “crotches,” she whispered, “Like this Justin Bieber person.” She grabbed Ava’s vintage iPod and showed Ms. Kane the images.  “It’s almost bedtime and there is a grand old party going on in there and nobody can administer any discipline because we’re not programmed to know what kind of offense this is.”
Ms. Kane looked about thoughtfully, as if she were making calculations in her mind. It didn’t take her very long to figure out. “It’s a level 10.  Complete disregard for all of the rules here at Planet Degroot. Every night for the next then nights the Top-Bot responsible for each group will administer a punishment.  A level one spanking on the first night, a level two spanking on the second night, etcetera.  On the 10th day, we will have all the participating Miscreants come to the Auditorium where they will be given two strokes of the cane saber on their naked behinds in front of everyone.  I will be administering the saber since this is a direct mockery of my rules.  Ms. Kane spoke with a level head.  She was not angry.  She was rarely angry. She was not however, amused.  She asked that Ms. Jane go get a handle on things with the other staff while she tended to Ava, personally.
Ava was a woman with light blonde streaked with dancing rainbow highlights. She was slightly overweight but not unattractive.  Her eyes were a rich blue, and deep.  She looked rather innocent in her night uniform, a simple white dress with cotton panties.  Ms. Kane preferred the traditional look of the old days when discipline was alive and in style.  Discipline was not fashionable in the future, but that all would change after Planet DeGroot’s influence.
Ms. Kane also had blue eyes, of a lighter color, but hypnotizing all the same.  She beckoned Ava towards her. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” she asked sternly, not rising from her seat but lifting up her head and lowering her glasses so that her eyes met Ava’s.  For the first time Ava felt a twinge of nervousness. She didn’t do anything wrong really.  She was just having fun, and she was brazen enough to tell Ms. Kane just that, in no uncertain terms.
“Well I hope you enjoyed your fun, because it’s likely the last of it you’ll see for some time.  I made the rules clear in the auditorium earlier, didn’t I?”
Ava nodded, the woman before her had the gift to make her feel shamed; something she was not accustomed to.
“And did I also not allow you to keep your “vintage” nonsense?”
Ava nodded again, her eyes darting to the ground.
“There’s nothing left to do but punish you. You inspired a rebellion, and I don’t appreciate it.  I work very hard here to keep order.  I’m not a tyrant. I most certainly allow fun and games, but there must be structure otherwise this whole system will shut down. I don’t think you quite understand me, and you might not for some time.  I know you will need to adjust, and I’ve found the most universal language on Planet Degroot is when the hand communicates with the bottom.” She gestured towards her lap. “You are going to willingly come here this moment and get over my knee.”
Ava hesitated, fiddling with her hair, wishing to make some snide remark but unable to draw it out of herself.
“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Ms. Kane barked.
Ava stood at attention, feeling somewhat afraid.  She gingerly walked towards Ms. Kane who decided to help her by forcing her over her lap.  The woman fell clumsily over Ms. Kane’s knee. Ms. Kane felt slightly badly for acting a little aggressively, and so she composed herself and more gently maneuvered Ava into a more comfortable position. “Hold on to the legs of the chair,” she instructed.
Ava gripped on to the legs of the chair with both hands, feeling too entirely mortified to make any snarky comments or even to protest.  It was her will to jump off of this woman’s lap and tell her just where she could shove her bionic spanking arm, but the words were stuck in her throat.  They refused to come out.  She dared not say a thing, even as she felt her dress lifted up, exposing her panty-clad bottom.
“I’m just going to get right down to this,” Ms. Kane informed her, administering level one smacks over Ava’s underwear. Level one was a combination of a warm-up and a moderately painful spanking, mostly a warning and deterrent.
*SMACK*
The first spank landed across both cheeks.  It wasn’t terribly painful, but there was definitely an unpleasant sting.  The spanking continued.
*SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*SMACK*
The smacks were coming in rapid succession now.  Ava started to squirm and wiggle away from the pain.  Suddenly the idea of a bionic hand terrified her.  It all started to seep in as the spanking went on.  Several dozen whacks over her panties had her panting and agitated.  She was stubborn and remained silent, not even an “Ow” escaped her lips, but inside she was fighting her fear and the pain.
Ms. Dana’s hand didn’t feel like a piece of metal, but Ms. Dana had said in the auditorium that the spankings weren’t meant to feel as if one was being beaten with a piece of steel.  That would compromise tradition she said, and also, be brutal. All of this was factored into the bionic hands, which were hard but remained supple and felt exactly like flesh.
Ava’s bottom was becoming sore.  She hardly noticed that Ms. Kane had taken her panties down.  When she did, she felt mortififed. The shame decorated her face the color of blooming red roses.  She wanted to scream “No,” or anything at all really, yet she was so shocked at her predicament she could do nothing at all but lie there.
Ms. Kane was silent, mostly. She let her hand do the talking.  When she reached a level 3, Ava could no longer keep the sounds inside. First they came as indistinguishable utterances.  Then they came as pleas.  Finally they came as tears, gradually at first, then streaming down her face. She squirmed over Ms. Kane’s lap.  The smacks continued. Right cheek. Left cheek. Both cheeks. Upper thighs.  When the hand made contact with her thigh, Ava couldn’t help but let out a literal scream.
That was met with a slap to her other thigh.  “Now stop that right now,” Ms. Kane scolded. “You’re gonna wake the whole darn planet.  You did this, not me. All my hard work promoting unity and obedience, pruning my trees and you come in singlehandedly and try to destroy my forest!”
Ava vaguely remembered the tree references from earlier at the auditorium. Ms. Dana kept relating trees to Miscreants.
“I didn’t mean it,” Ava pleaded, her tears so full in her eyes that the floor was blurry.
“Of course you meant it,” Dana told her. “We don’t do things we don’t mean to do!”
After another several dozen slaps, Ava was delirious.  Her hair stuck to her face with sweat and tears. “Okay, okay,” she yelped. “I did mean it, but I’m sorry now.  I’m soooooooo sorry.  Please, please stop.”
Ms. Kane did believe her.  It was hard not to be sorry during a spanking like this, even if you weren’t quite sure what you were expected to be sorry for.  Ms. Kane had learned this was the way it went with new Miscreants. It was all pars for the course. But Ms. Dana also learned that she had to continue even after the tears ran out, after the body stopped shaking and the bottom became too red to continue much longer.  It was the experience of continued pain that taught the lesson.  The experience needed to be remembered, or the lesson would be lost.
Ms. Kane delivered another dozen smacks, as hard as she could. “These last ones are going to be the hardest, and I’m assuming I don’t need to remind you why you’re here right now, do I?  She gently moved the woman’s hair from her face.”
Ava shook her head, bracing for the blows.
When it was all said and done, Ava fell to the floor.  She rested her head in Ms. Kane’s lap, surprised to be met with tenderness after such an ordeal.  No one had ever treated her kindly before. She raised her head to look at Ms. Kane who was seemed to be playing with her wrist and forearm.
“Ma’am?” she asked.
Ms. Kane was pleased with the change of attitude.  “Yes?”
“Would you mind telling me what level we had stopped at?  I noticed you programming or re-programming your arm just now.”
The Disciplinarian let out a loud chuckle. “Ha! Darlin’” she laughed. “I’m not a Top-Bot, just a Top.  I don’t need any machine in me to deliver one heck of a spanking.  I was just fiddling with my watch. I was born this way!”
Posted on

Spanko Cheesecake

 

Sometimes you have no other reason to post a photo than the simple fact that it’s fabulous. I give you such a photo….

 

IMG_20140210_163952
The rainbow socks are those ones with each toe individually knitted – if you don’t understand why I let her keep them on, I cannot possibly explain it to you.

 

You’re welcome.

–  Dana

Posted on

Revisiting Sarah Gregory..

 

Sarah Gregory has been updating her site a LOT lately, and, as always, it looks like she’s having a whole lot of fun! Sarah always has a varied cast of both tops and bottoms, and she’s game for giving or taking a spanking – this makes for a really interesting and sexy mix of content on Sarah’s site, and I’m particularly loving these most recent ones.

A few of my recent favorites:

 

Punishment in the Principal’s Office

50 Shades of Spanking

The Workout Burn
The Bitchy Bride

Posted on

It’s all about Meme

 

What does a blogger do when she can’t think of a damned thing else to talk about but needs to post something up in order to keep a regular and diverse stream of available content?

With about 75 seconds of research, I’ve come upon Meme.

What is a meme? I had to google it a while back to figure it out. My conclusion: I’m still not sure.

Seemingly, a meme can be anything from a silly captioned photo to a slogan to a list of personal attributes. I’m still a bit stumped on this one, but of late ‘meme’ appears to be the term used for those survey things we used to do on MySpace in the olden days. For the most part, they’re vain and self-serving (two things which I think get a bad rap), but are at the very least an insight into trivial things you may not have otherwise known about a person.

For all the above stated excuses, I give you – ripped from the pages of my friend Erica’s blog – this ridiculous ‘meme’.

–  Dana

 

The phone rings. Who do you want it to be?
My favorite caller  –  Wrong Number.

When shopping at the grocery store, do you return your cart?
My fella returns the cart with 100% efficiency. 

In a social setting, are you more of a talker or a listener?
If you can get me to shut up, I’m a great listener. 

Do you take compliments well?
I never look a gift compliment in the mouth.
 
Are you an active person?
I wouldn’t run if someone were chasing me, but otherwise am generally active.

If abandoned alone in the wilderness, do you survive?
Not for five seconds. I am a complete wimp. First I’d plop down in the middle of the wilderness and cry. Then I’d probably eat something poisonous and croak. (The above answer is Erica’s, but because it is so profoundly succinct I’ve decided to steal it. I, too, would die almost immediately if not sooner.)

Did you ever go to camp as a kid?
Once. I still cannot believe that I was allowed away for that weekend camp, and with good reason. I was SUCH a misbehaver!

What was your favorite game/s as a kid?
Anything that could be played outside and shoeless; preferably involving lawn darts or some other wildly dangerous 1970’s toy.

A sexy person is pursuing you, but you know that he/she is married, would you?
Never.

Are you judgmental?
Yep. Everyone is, about something. I’m judgmental about littering, kicking puppies, shoving old ladies….lotsa stuff, really.

Do you like to pursue or be pursued?
Both.

Use three words to describe yourself.
Intent Upon Contentment

If you had to choose, would you rather be deaf or blind?
Weird question…I’m going with deaf, since ASL is cool.
Are you continuing your education?
I’m always learning, but am not currently paying anyone (with interest) to teach me.

Do you know how to shoot a gun?
Better than you’d think..

How often do you read books?
Every day. (Me too, Erica.)
 
Do you think more about the past, present or future?
I don’t think I think much about the present, because I’m in it and it’s happening. Past and future are probably neck and neck.
 
What is your favorite children’s book?
Where the Wild Things Are 

Where is your ideal house located?
Someplace with grass and big trees and a huge yard with a little garden and three fat chickens.
 
Boxers, briefs, thongs, panties or grannies?
Yes, please.
 
Last person you talked to?
He’s right….here.

Have you ever taken pictures in a photo booth?
Yep. (Another kindof wasteful meme moment, don’t you think?)
 
What are your keys on your key chain for?
The things a person needs keys for. Duh moment.

Where was the furthest place you traveled today?
Since I arrived home from my most recent trip after midnight, I’d have to say about 1800 miles.

Where is your current pain?
I feel no pain.

Do you like mustard?
Yep.

Do you prefer to sleep or eat?
Eat. Always eat. I can sleep anytime.

Do you look like your mom or dad?
Definitely my dad.

How long does it take you in the shower?
I don’t shower unless I’m in a hotel and don’t want to float in a much-used tub. Otherwise, I’m an hour-long soaker.

What movie do you want to see right now?
I could re-watch Birdcage… 

What did you do for New Year’s?
Went to bed at ten, just like most other nights.

What was the cause of your last accident?
I cannot recall an accident in recent memory. I did once slam into a coworker’s brand new jeep while backing out of my parking space, but that was years ago. 

Posted on

‘The Errant Robot’ : Future Spank entry

 

Readers,

Here’s another fine entry to the Future Spank story contest, which garnered a LOT of really creative writing. Enjoy ‘The Errant Robot’.

–  Dana

 

THE ERRANT ROBOT

 

Colin woke up with a start.

 

He looked at his bedside clock and swore silently under his breath. He was late, very late. Darn that maid, he thought angrily as he swung quickly out of bed.  He had planned to get into work early today. In fact he needed to.

 

He hurried though the vizi-screen that was showing a tropical beach scene and straight into the kitchen.

 

His Maidbot Lysette was standing, or rather frozen, in position by the kitchen counter. A large wooden spoon was held in one hand over a bowl she had obviously been ready to stir.

 

Lysette was dressed as a nineteenth century French maid. High heel, black court shoes, black stockings with lacy white garters, a black uniform with a frilly edged apron and a matching lace cap on her head. Colin lifted up the back of her skirt and was tempted to fire a hard fast slap against her silky black knickers with white lacy ruffles. But what was the point she wouldn’t feel a thing… yet! He Pushed his thumb in the small of her back and a compartment opened ejecting a small cylindrical object. Her battery. He put it in a charging unit and selected another that was ready and replaced it. Lysette immediately straightened up and turned round, a blush creeping into her porcelain cheeks.

 

She had rosebud lips painted crimson, deep brown eyes and tumbling her that fell past her shoulders and framed her impressive cleavage. Her lips trembled.

 

“I am sorry, Sir. I got distracted I didn’t realise my charge was so low.’

 

Colin pointed at the clock orb. ‘I am going to be late now. And I told you how important it was to wake me this early.’

 

‘I ‘m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

 

‘Hand me the spoon bend, over the table and present your bottom.’

 

‘Please, Sir. Not the spoon. Her lower lip trembled.’

 

‘It was going to be six, each buttock now it will be twelve.’

 

‘Lysette hurried over to the old fashioned kitchen table, bent over it and flipped up her skirt. Presenting her gloriously, womanly, curvy bottom. The silky panties  stretched tight.

 

Colin ran a hand over the smooth wonder of it, wishing he had more time.

 

‘Panties down, he barked.’

 

‘Lysette lowered her panties. Revealing the creamy magnificence of her splendid cheeks, kept modestly together.’

 

‘Crack!’

 

The spoon landed on her right buttock. She yelped but only just. She knew if she wriggled or cried out too loudly the punishment would be increased.

 

‘Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

 

Lysette squirmed fighting to keep her thighs together. Colin stood back to admire his handiwork. The ivory perfection of her plump buttock had been pained with a red as deep as a fairy tale rose. He ran his hand over her bottom again feeling the heat rising.

 

‘This is just the start he said. The real punishment will be tonight I expect you to have the implements ready.

 

‘Yes, Sir,’ said Lysette tremulously and then gasped as the spoon landed again.

 

‘Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack!!!’

 

The spanks sounded like pistol shots as Colin cracked the spoon hard down on each buttock.’

 

‘Lysette’s knees buckled and her hands flew to rub her sore bottom before she realised what she was doing.’

.

‘Hands away!’ barked Colin.

 

Lysette moved her hand away and this time Colin spanked the spoon hard three times on the top of each thigh.

 

The maid squealed unable to hold it back and Colin smiled as he looked down on her wriggling derriere.

 

Stay there till I have gone,’ he said. ‘And get the items ready for my return.’

 

He lingered for a moment, excited at the sight of her quivering flesh and then dashed off to the roto-shower.

 

*

 

Ten minutes later he was in the transporter bubble seated across from a tall red head. She was dressed, like most of them in the bubble in a proton body suit, that did nothing much to conceal the outlines of her figure. She had a haughty look about her and Colin fantasised for a moment or two about taking a wooden spoon to her haughty bottom too. But then crossed his legs and looked away. He was late, far too late. He clutched the documents case he held to his chest and hoped his boss would be in at her normal time.

 

Some minutes later and Colin exited the transport bubble and walked through the security scanning field at the entrance to The Museum of Old Things in New Las Vegas.

 

The droids at the other side of the field nodded to him and he hurried down the long marble corridor to his office. The plaque on the door read ‘Colin Freemantle 20th Century Archivist.’ Still clutching his document case he hurried in.

His secretary Anjelica Buns looked up to him as he entered. She was a small woman but very curvy. Many the days that Colin had dreamed of having her over his lap. Squirming as he took an old fashioned hairbrush to her plumptious cheeks.  But things being as they were and the law being what it was he had to settle for dominating her in more subtle ways. Being her boss had its perks in lots of ways and if his excitement was only acted out in his imagination it was a very powerful imagination and Lysette would get the benefit. If not for her!

 

He hurried over to his desk to get his security key when Anjelica Buns called out.

 

‘Colin!’

 

‘What is it? I am busy!’ he snapped back.

 

‘The Libratix wants to see you.’

 

Colin’s heart raced and his face paled. ‘Do you know what she wants?’ he asked.

 

‘Something to do with administration, she said.’

 

Colin relaxed and sighed relieved. ‘Okay he said. I’ll be back in a bit. Get me a cup of coffee ready.’

 

He hurried out the door, slipping his security key into his pocket and holding his document case tightly is his hand.

 

He knocked on the door further down the corridor from his office. His Boss. The Libratix. Lana Dane.

 

‘Enter!’

 

Colin pushed the door open and walked into his Boss’s office. IT was decorated very much n Old World Style. Wooden floors, expensive rugs and drapes, a large antique desk upon which Lana Dane leaned against.

 

She was a tall woman in very good shape. She was dressed in black and had shiny, jet black cropped hair. Her lipstick was the same shade of red as his Maidbot and Colin felt his heart race again. She was dressed in Old World style too, shiny, black leather high heeled pumps, an above the knee skirt, a crisp, pure white blouse and a black jacket. Colin couldn’t help but imagine she had stockings on under the skirt and moved his document case in front of himself.

 

‘I need to talk to you, Colin,’ she said. Her voice confident, authoritarian but as smooth as the silk of the panties he imagined she was wearing.

 

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he replied. ‘Angle said it was something about administration?’

 

‘Indeed it is. Administration such a flexible word don’t you find?’

 

‘I guess.’ Colin shrugged. Seemed a pretty boring word to him. That was what secretaries were for after all. Administration and filing.

 

Dana Lane pushed a button on her wristcom and Colin heard the lock behind him close.

 

‘Something has come to my attention Colin.’

 

Colin felt his throat constrict, his mouth suddenly dry. ’Some filing issues,’ he asked.

 

‘No Colin. Not filing. Things that should have been kept in secure files that have been taken out.’

 

‘What do you mean?’ he stammered.

 

‘Bring that document case over here and put the contents on my desk.’

 

‘These are personal papers.’

 

‘I can get the security droids up here and alert the Moral Guardians if you prefer.’ She replied.

 

Colin felt his world slipping under his feet as he walked over to her desk.’

 

‘Please…’ he started to beg.

 

‘Do it now!’ She barked the order and Colin, with shaking hands undid the case and put the magazines on her desk.’

 

‘And what have we here?’

 

‘Err… I am not sure. I was just doing some research.’

 

‘English spanking magazines from the Nineteen seventies and eighties!’ said Lana Dane. ‘Magazines that are prohibited and a crime to be in possession of and should be kept under secure lock and key in the archives.’

 

Colin felt his face redden as much as the blush he had brought to his Maidbot’s cheeks.  ‘I can explain…’ he started to say but the Libratix held up her hand.

 

‘There is no need to explain I have been told everything.’ She picked up the magazines. Janus. Februs. Martinet. All with pictures and photos of women being spanked and caned. Some in maids outfits, some as school girls, some just naked, baring their bottoms immodestly. Lana opened one of the magazines and showed Colin the picture and if his face was red before… it was crimson now.

 

‘What are you g.g. going to do?’ he stuttered.

 

‘Like I say, Colin,’ she smiled as she put the magazine back on her desk. ‘It’s a question of administration.’

 

Colin inward sighed with relief again. If it was demotion he could live with that. He didn’t want to go to prison.

 

‘I’ll do anything!’ he said.

 

‘Oh you don’t have to do anything,’ Lana laughed.

 

‘What do you mean?’

 

‘It will me who will be giving the administration.’ She pushed her wristcom once more and the door opened and Anjelica Buns walked in, her rosy cheeks smiling and handed Dana Lane a small suitcase.

 

‘Now you have a decision to make, Colin,’ said the Libratix, ‘You can accept my rulings or you can be taken to the Morality Guardians, your choice.’

 

‘I’ll do anything you say,’ said Colin.

 

‘Good,’ replied Dana and handed him the case.

 

‘Get changed into these. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, I want you bent over the desk and ready for me.’

 

‘Yes, boss,’ he replied.

 

Dana Lane slapped him hard across the face and he reeled with shock.  ‘Get it right!’

 

‘Yes, Ma’am?’ he tried.

 

She slapped him hard again. ‘Do better!’

 

Colin spluttered, his mind in a whirl. ‘Yes, Mistress he said.’

 

Dana Lane smiled, revealing perfectly shaped, beautifully white teeth. ‘It’s going to be a long lesson for you. Come along Angelica,’ she said to Colin’s PA the boy needs to ready himself.

 

Colin heard the door close behind him and then opened the case and gasped with shock at what he saw inside. It was a nineteenth century’s maid outfit, complete with a curly dark wig, stockings and shoes. Almost identical to his Maidbot’s Lysette’s outfit.

 

 

Ten minutes later and Colin was dressed. Shoes, stockings, suspenders, the maids outfit and the wig on. He had smoothed his hands over his own now silky clad bottom and was surprised how pleasing it was and how excited it made him. He bent over the table and waited nervously. He had a guess of the kind of administration that was coming to him but he had no ideas of what manner and his heart raced nervously in anticipation of it. He didn’t have to wait long.

 

*

 

‘Remain in that position and put your bottom out!’

 

The crisp tones of Dana Lane, Libratix of the Museum of Old thing in New Las Vegas , voice was unmistakeable. There was a giggle as he raised his bottom that he could not recognise and his cheeks crimsoned once more as he realised it was not just Dana in the room. His face cheeks were crimsoned but not as much as his other cheeks were going to.

 

‘’Lift the skirt and show us your panties, Girl!’ she continued.

 

Colin’s cheeks were aflame now as he did as he was ordered.

 

‘Very pretty panties,’ said Dana. ‘So before the administration begins I think a new name for you don’t you.’

 

‘I suppose,’ said Colin shrugging confusedly and then yelped with pain as a searing pain flared across his bottom.

 

‘I beg your pardon?’

 

‘I mean yes, Mistress.’

 

‘Well Colin, I think you will be Cecily from now on. Anjelica go round and hold Cecily’s hands as she stretches them across the desk.’

Another swipe and Colin felt the same searing pain bite into each buttock.

 

‘Stretch them out!’

 

Colin quickly did as he was told, his face burning with shame as he saw Anjelica’s amused face as she took hold of his hands and held them in a surprisingly strong grip.

 

‘Now I think we want to have those panties down, don’t you Cecily?’

 

‘Yes Mistress,’ Colin gasped although he didn’t sound too happy.

 

‘In fact I think we’ll have them right off. Why don’t you have the pleasure my dear?’

 

Colin felt a cool pair of hands run over his bottom and then a giggle as the panties were lowered revealing two welts beginning to form on his pale bottom.

 

‘Now give him six each cheek with this,’ said Dana Lane.

 

Crack! Colin yelped as each stinging shot landed on his already sore buttocks.

 

‘Can you tell what the implement is?’ asked the Libratix.

 

‘A paddle?’ gasped Colin and then yelped again as a swish landed across his  flaming backside.

 

‘A paddle what?!”

 

‘A paddle, Mistress,’ Colin could barely speak and tears were beginning to form in his eyes.

 

‘Wrong! Six more each side and then three each upper thigh. And if you squirm too much, Cecily. We will start again.’

 

The spanks came down hard and fast and Colin fought hard not to squirm, Anjelica Buns held his hands tight as he wriggled and squealed.

 

‘Show him the item,’ said Dana Lane derriere as the final spank landed.

 

Colin gasped as a wooden spoon was put on the table. His own wooden spoon that he had disciplined his Maidbot with only that very morning.

 

‘That’s right, Cecily. Lysette acted like a good citizen and informed me of the items that you had taken from the archive. But more importantly items you had stolen from other departments. Lay them on the table for me please, dear.’

 

Lysette stepped around the table and Colin gasped again, his maid was now dressed in a figure hugging plasto-suit in shiny black. High heeled and with a satisfied smile on her face as she lay the antique implements on the table:  a leather boudoir paddle from London Tanners, an English riding crop and a Scottish two-tailed strap.

 

Colin swallowed hard, dreading what was to follow but relieved that there was one item missing. ‘Please…’ he began.

 

‘You do not speak until given permission so to do! Is that understood Cecily?’

 

Colin’s bottom quivered as much as his bottom lip trembled. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

 

‘Good. Well it is time to begin the proper administration. Lysette why don’t you swop places with Anjelica, and Anjelica pick an implement and begin his lesson. Eighteen hard on each side. Anjelica grinned broadly as Colin’s Maidbot grasped his hands firmly and picked up the boudoir paddle. It was heavy leather with a metal interior and she slapped it happily in her hand. Then walked around the desk.

 

‘You told me to prepare the implements…’ Lysette was about to say sir, but caught her self and smiled widely… ‘Cecily. I do hope they are to your liking.’

 

‘Crack!’

 

Colin gasped again as the searing heat flared once more in his aching rear. He had noticed that his secretary had a strong grip and felt the power as every stroke landed. One buttock to the next. Crack! Crack! Crack!

 

He had never known such agony like it he had to bite his tongue to stop crying out for mercy. But he knew such pleas would be met with more punishment. Goodness knows he had done the same to his Maidbot often enough even knowing she felt the pain every bit as much as he was now.

 

The women swopped places again and the paddle was followed by the tawse. His Maidbot giggled as every swat landed on his apple red and blistering bottom. And then Anjelica took her turn again with the English riding crop every swipe feeling like a bee sting and rising little welts on his now purpling posterior.

 

Finally the last, eighteenth swipe of the crop landed and Colin gasped with relief. He had genuinely been punished to tears and he sobbed, so very, very glad it was over.

 

Except it wasn’t.’

 

‘Well I hope you have learned your lesson Cecily?’ asked Dana Lane.

 

‘Yes please. I have. I really have.’ He begged through his tears.

 

‘Stand up, turn round and face me.’ Lysette the Maidbot released Colin’s hands and he stood up, his head giddy, his knees weak and turned round and gasped in surprise. His boss, Lana Dane, the Libratix of the Museum of Old Things New Las Vegas, had removed her jacket shirt and skirt. Her magnificent legs were sheathed in gloriously silky, black stockings. She had an old fashioned basque on in matching black with a 1940’s style conical bra and black knickers. He recognised it from the La Maitresse range from a an English company back in the twenty first century. La Maitresse being French for The Mistress of course. And for a moment he forgot the burning agony of his beaten bottom and felt his heart beating with excitement again.

 

‘Hands down, Cecily!’ barked the Libratix and Colin swiftly moved his hands to cover his immodesty. And then he saw what she was holding in her hand. The item he thought that had been missed. A very rare cane-iac, two foot long Lexan cane that he had stolen from the ancient artefacts warehouse. Made in acrylic and he knew just how much it stung. Not from first hand experience of course but on the rare times he had thrashed the beautifully wobbling bottom of his Maidbot. Had admired the beautiful welts it raised in her porcelain cheeks and took delight in her tears and yelps as every cut of the cane landed.

 

He wasn’t so pleased to see it now.

 

‘Eyes down, Cecily!’ said Dana Lane, I just got comfortable so I can swing the cane more easily. Now turn round and bend over the desk. Your hands won’t be held and you are to receive eighteen strokes. If you move position we will start again. Now get over and put your bottom in the air!’

 

Colin felt he was almost ready to faint. He bent over the desk once more and flipped up the maid’s skirt he was wearing and lifted his bottom, helped by his very high heels, a bottom that was welted and purpled and already very well sore.

 

Swish! The lexan cane landed on his proudly presently posterior and he yelped like his maid had squealed many times before, but this time the sound of his yelping brought no pleasure to him.

 

Again and again the cane swiped down on his quivering bottom. It was a baptism of fire. He had never felt such agony, never felt such humiliation as he heard his secretary and his Maidbot laugh as every swishing slash landed on his cherry red cheeks.

 

Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen! Colin’s knees quivered and shivered and he gulped in air as the tears ran down his face. He was glad he hadn’t moved. He honestly didn’t think he could face much more even if it did mean an appearance before the Moral Guardians. He knew the women would back each other and even his Maidbot’s evidence would be taken into account.

 

‘Up Cecily and go and stand in the corner!’ said Dana Lane.

 

Colin did as he was instructed.

 

‘You may rub your bottom, Cecily’ the Libratix whispered in his ear.

 

Colin thankfully did as he was allowed.

 

‘Now take this and hold it by your nose to the wall, and if it falls to the floor in the next eighteen minutes you will be caned the same again!’

 

Colin took the coin. It was as a twenty first century gambling token from old Las Vegas. He placed it and held it to the wall with his nose. Begging beyond hope it didn’t  fall.

 

As the ladies behind him chatted and laughed, and he focused on the coin, he realised that the feeling in his bottom was now a pleasant one and the whole sensation of being punished and exposed was maybe more exciting than he thought it would be. And as his thoughts dwelt on that he moved his hands forward, mindful of Miss Lana’s commands on modesty, and pressed his nose harder into the wall.

 

*

 

Colin closed his ipad, a blushing flush creeping over his cheeks as the door opened and Angel walked into the reception room.

 

‘So, Colin. I gather you like my bottom?’ she said.

 

Colin’s blush deepened. Angel was a curvy figured, young woman, with blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, as American as apple pie and with a derriere he could only dream of laying his hand upon.

 

‘’Well I…’ Colin stammered.

 

‘Never mind,’ Angel interrupted. ‘Miss Dana Kane liked your story and she will see you now.’

 

Angel gestured to the door with a knowing smile. ‘Sometimes It’s best to be careful for what you wish for!’ she said.

 

Colin walked to the door nervously as Angel chuckled holding the paddle, unseen by him, behind her back.

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Reflections on a ‘new’ spankos first year

 

Readers,

Below is an email, excerpted, I received from one of my playmates. New to the spanking ‘thing’, we all have a lot to learn, but I wanted to share this email for a couple specific reasons.

Not only does my somewhat-new friend now understand the enormous emotional/psychological impact of spanking, but there’s also been a revelation which I, myself, have never before had. Apparently, I’m lucky because I get to, in many cases immediately, take out my frustrations on loved ones when I see them taking part in dangerous or self-harming behaviors. Most folks don’t have the luxury of yanking someone across their lap for a good hard spanking when it’s obviously deserved…

for this I am grateful.

And also for every one of my cool, smart (and smartass), amazing friends and playmates – you all rock!

For the rest of the Newbies out there, why don’t some of you tried-and-true spankos share some of your first-year revelations in the comment box below?

–  Dana

 

Here’s the original email:

 

Dear Dana-

As I sit here, with a ridiculously and well deserved sore bottom, I can’t help but to reflect back on our time together last night and throughout the year.

Being new to the “spanko” world has been exhilarating, painful (bc in the beginning, and even now, I found myself in trouble ALL of the time!) and most of all, surprisingly nurturing and loving.

You kind of caught me off guard as I didn’t expect to find a person like you and didn’t even know enough about the spanking world to know that “loving and nurturing” people even existed in the “spanko” world. One tends to read about all the horror stories of their tops and not the other way around. And with that being said, I stand in gratitude that our paths have crossed. I’m blessed that I was caught off guard because I tend to be a tad bit closed off but I’m working on that piece within myself.

Which brings me to the point you so painfully made on my bottom last night-

I totally get it now as to why you had to discipline me in the way you did last night. When you TRULY care for someone, you don’t want them to put themselves in harms way and I realize now, how much I was doing that and most importantly how much you care for me.

Our relationship is completely different than any relationship I’ve ever had, for several reasons but the main reason is because I have given you permission to “correct” behaviors that you see as harmful and, most importantly, I trust you and I know that whatever discipline you give to me is done with love and compassion and is for my own good. And for both of our own good!

You should count yourself lucky that you get to “spank” the people you care about if they are putting themselves in harms way etc. As for me, it isn’t possible to spank such people …(it’s not my dharma) so, all I get is frustrated, let down and riddled with anxiety when people are careless with their lives.

So basically, what I’m trying to say is that last night was like a mirror reflecting back on me. I could see how frustrating it must be for you to care for people who don’t care for themselves AND, I saw that piece within myself. There are tons of people I care about that don’t care about themselves. And it breaks my heart. Reflecting back to you, I don’t want to be that person to YOU. Because I do care about myself.  Your time, energy and love is not wasted on me. I’ve just never slowed down long enough or no one has been able to catch me to point these blind spots out to me. Or perhaps both?

I wish I could say that I’m going to be absolutely perfect from here on out but we both know that ain’t gonna happen! But what I can say and I am committed to doing, is taking much better care of myself than I currently am. And when I slip up, I’m sure you will be there with a firm hand to put me back on the straight and narrow. Ouch!!

Posted on

Pandora Blake makes great movies

Pandora Blake has been posting up some really excellent male bottom content on her site Dreams of Spanking, including some with the absolutely adorable Michael Darling. One of the reasons that I love Pandora’s site is that she doesn’t discriminate when it comes to a good spanking – you’ll find girls spanking boys and girls, and boys spanking boys AND girls, too. Diversity! She’s also cranked up the heat lately with a steamy explicit photoset, and always has some of the prettiest, most well-thought-out costumes and set designs you’ll find in spanking films today. Having had the pleasure of working with Pandora twice, it’s also always reassuring to know that someone is as sweet, genuine, and cool as they seem. She is.

 

A few previews from those hot /M scenes:

 

 

Nursing a Grudge

 

 

Military Discipline

 

The Baroness’ New Houseboy

Boarding School Birching

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‘Bottom to the Future’ : A Future Spank story entry

 

Readers,

Enjoy this great Future Spank contest entry, written by a sweet girl who calls herself Randy Lee – I did.

–  Dana

 

 

Bottom to the Future

 

On a sunny Tuesday, Kim sits at an outdoor table at a café in a suburb of Dallas.  She taps the edge of her palmtop computer to turn the page of the newspaper she’s reading.  The early afternoon sun glints off the windows of the silver monorail cars as the train rounds a curve on its approach to the stop in front of the café.  When the train is still, Kim’s friend Monica emerges from a monorail car and waves as she walks toward her.  Kim stands up and hugs her friend in greeting.

“Have you ordered yet?” Monica asks as the two women sit down.

“No, I was waiting for you,” Kim replies.  “I’m not in any hurry today.  Elroy is doing some psychology research at the library, and Jeremy is meeting a friend at the fitness center for some weight training and racquetball after work.  I don’t need to have supper ready until 7 o’clock.”

“I have a leisurely day, too,” says Monica, touching some of the areas of the menu screen built into the table as she decides on a lunch selection.  “Morgan and her friend Emery are going to have a cram session for an upcoming exam in their mental disorders class.  They’re going for a swim workout at the natatorium and then stopping for Chinese takeout on the way to Emery’s house.  Morgan’s spending the night there.  They have a pretty good study system with their combination of exercise, nutrition, and mental activity.  And sleep.  They have instructions to be in bed with lights out at 11:00 p.m.  Both of them get good grades.  Emery’s parents are as proud of her as Keith and I are of Morgan.  And I know Elroy ranks pretty high in his class at the university.”

“Yes, he does keep his grades up,” Kim agrees.  “Sometimes I wonder how he does it, with chess, Space Cadets, and the other activities he’s been involved in.  We’ve instilled in him for years that his course work is more important most of the time.  We started teaching him in 6th grade that if he begins to have trouble with his grades or getting enough sleep, extra activities will be removed.  His schooling is his “job,” and his grades are his paycheck.  Activities outside of schoolwork are frills, and frills can easily fall by the wayside.  He knows we’re not kidding.  It was the rule in junior high, then high school, and now at the university.”

Monica peruses the menu and decides on her meal.  She and Kim spend a few seconds ordering from the touch-screen menu.

Kim sighs, a faraway—but satisfied—expression on her face.  “How did we wind up with such well-behaved, responsible children?” she asks rhetorically.

“You just said it,” Monica points out.  “You’ve trained Elroy for years, disciplining him to focus on his schoolwork.”  She pauses, a thoughtful look on her face.  “But specifically, how did you and Jeremy accomplish

this discipline?”

Kim’s gaze darts rapidly, randomly, in several different directions.  She looks ill at ease.  “Well,” she begins, “I’m uncomfortable admitting this, but we used spanking.  Just a smack or two on the backside.  I would use my hand when he was a little fella, and Jeremy would use his belt starting when Elroy was about six.  It was the event, not the severity, that was effective.  Jeremy would tell Elroy he was going to give him a whipping, and explain why.  Elroy would just say, ‘Yes, sir.  I know I deserve it.’  Jeremy would take his belt off, make Elroy bend over and put his hands on the bed, and swat him twice with his belt.  Then Elroy would thank his father for the punishment and for caring enough to shape his behavior.  I don’t think Jeremy has whipped him since he was eight or nine.  Now, there have been a few times some years back when we’ve taken away his communication device for three days, but Elroy says essentially the same thing, thanking me or his father for punishing him and for helping him develop responsibility and self-discipline.  I imagine we’re the only parents in the Cosmoplex who have used such primitive methods of child-rearing.”

“Probably not the only ones,” Monica counters, “but you have to admit it’s way out of style.  For children, at least.”

Kim chuckles.  “Right:  for children.”  We know a lot more about the style for adults,” she says, grinning.

Monica laughs out loud.  “That we do, Kim.”

Three electronic pings signal the emergence of two miniature helicopters from a rectangular opening near the top of a portion of the building that is shaped like a small silo.  Each tiny aircraft homes in on the table, waits for the women to lean back to make room, and lands gracefully on the touch-screen menu that corresponds with the helicopter’s “cargo.”

Kim and Monica remove their respective food orders from the rigid baskets beneath the aircraft, the helicopters return to the delivery portal, and the women eat in silence for a couple of minutes.

Kim then asks, “What techniques have you and Keith used with Morgan?”

Monica considers the question as she chews and swallows her current bite of sandwich.  “Keith and I have relied on the practice of using time-outs with Morgan ever since she was a toddler.  At first, I would sit with her and make sure she stayed seated in her chair.  I would set the timer for two minutes, and she wasn’t allowed out of the chair until the timer sounded and I said she could get up.  I would talk with her about what she did, why she was being punished, and how she could behave better.  When she was a little older, we used a clock, and that’s how she learned to tell time.  I won’t say she enjoyed time-outs, but we made it a learning experience in addition to being a discipline technique.  Morgan was never spanked until she was 18.  No, wait:  She was 19.  She told us she was going one place and we learned she actually went with a friend to a concert Keith and I had said she could not attend.  Keith put her in the Hidetanner for ten minutes, set at 30.  She tried to be stoic, but it got the best of her, and she was crying before six minutes had passed.  Her behind was bright pink.  Afterwards, she apologized to us for disobeying our instructions and for lying about it.  Then she told us that several things the musicians did during the concert were in poor taste and that she knew we had been correct in not allowing her to go.  She assured us that she had learned not only that disobedience and lying would not be tolerated, but also that she realized our judgment and decisions were wise and were in her best interests.  That was two years ago, and she hasn’t given us any reason to repeat that punishment.”

“I should say not,” Kim agreed.  “Ten minutes at the 30 level for a newbie would be pretty rough.”  Of course, you and I do 50 and 60 routinely, and for way more than ten minutes.”

“Well, of course we do, but both of us are used to it.  Besides, we like it, but Morgan does not.  She definitely isn’t ‘one of us.’  I’ll tell you, though, I wasn’t used to what Keith did last week.”  Monica paused, her brow knit as she recalled the event.  “I had been at the regular Tuesday meeting of the Hydroponic Society and stayed to talk to a couple of other members.  I lost track of time, supper was late, and Keith was quite angry.  As usual, he didn’t raise his voice, but what it lacked in volume it more than made up for in intensity.  He told me I was going to be punished in the Hidetanner, and he really let me have it.  He set it high and timed it long.  He wasn’t joking, and it wasn’t funny.  He stood there the whole time and talked to me, lecturing me.  I wish he had just left me alone and let me cry in peace.  It still hurts, and that was eight days ago.  Sometimes he can be so demanding and domineering.  I don’t like being treated like a slave.  He and I need to have a talk about that.”

Kim looks concerned.  “Do you think that will make him angry?”

“Oh, no,” Monica asserts.  “He isn’t thin-skinned.  Conversation doesn’t make him angry.  We can have a good conversation about subjects we disagree on.  Most of the time, we come to some kind of agreement, at least in principle.  But Keith doesn’t like rules broken and he doesn’t like the routine disrupted for no good reason.  Now, if there’s a good reason, that’s never a problem.  We all know things can happen.  You know, monorail delays, traffic jams, those kinds of unforeseen circumstances.  However, thoughtlessness is always a problem, even when he’s guilty of it.  He’s been known to put himself in the Hidetanner.”

“Speaking of which,” Kim interjects, “how do you think the Hidetanner compares with the Spankocert you and Keith used to have?”

“It’s more rigorous than our Spankocert GX2 was,” Monica replies.  “Well, that machine was four years old, so you can understand it didn’t have the kick it had when it was new.  The Hidetanner can do a really good job of covering a large area, but it can also be set to concentrate on the same spot over and over.  And it can deliver the side wrap I’m sometimes in the mood for.  Yours is a Spankocert GX4, right?”

“Yes,” Kim confirms.  “I like it, but I’m interested in trying yours, just to see what it might do differently.  Maybe it does some things better.”

“I’d be glad to let you try it out.  How about at our party on Friday of next week.  You and Jeremy are planning to come, aren’t you?” Monica asks.

“You bet.  We wouldn’t miss it.  We always have a great time at the parties.  Are a lot of people going to be there?”

“About 20, if everyone comes who E-plied.  Several people are going to bring their frames, benches, and even some machines,” Monica notes.  “And, of course, the toys their machines use.”

Kim registered surprise.  “There are machines light enough to be portable?”

“Oh, yes,” Monica confirms.  “Dawn and Josh have one.  I’m eager to see it in action.”

Kim looks at her wrist phone.  “Will you look at the time!  I need to be getting home.”  She touches an icon at the top of the menu screen to display the cost of her meal, and Monica follows suit.  Near the center of the table at each woman’s place, a block 8 centimeters square rises from the surface of the table disclosing an opening in the block resembling a mouth ready to eat money.  As each woman inserts her money, the block calculates the change, deposits it on the table, and lowers back into the surface of the table.

Kim and Monica gather their belongings, stand up, and hug.  “There’s my ride,” Kim says, spying a monorail train moving closer toward the restaurant station.

Monica walks with her to the platform, saying, “Mine should be the next one, in about five minutes.

Kim boards one of the cars.  Monica awaits her train, smiling in anticipation of the party.

 

 

Ten Days Later

 

“Keith!” Monica calls.  “Did you get the tables and chairs set up on the patio?”

“Yes,” he answers.  Everything’s ready for the guests.  Do you want me to put out the trays that are on the kitchen table?”

“Yes, please.  That much is done, and all that’s left is the beverage and ice dispensers.”

Got ’em, Keith says. He retrieves the drink dispenser and an ice dispenser from a closet off the patio, where they had been waiting, primed.

The doorbell rings.  Monica goes to the door and opens it to usher in six guests, all talking at once.  With everyone being in a “Friday mood,” smiles and cheerfulness abound.

“Come on in, y’all,” Monica invites.  “Make yourselves at home in the living room, out on the patio, or wherever you’re comfortable.”

The guests move to different areas, talking among themselves or going to the patio to greet Keith.

Another ring of the doorbell is heard, and one of the new arrivals definitely makes himself at home by yelling, “I’ll get it.”  He opens the door to admit another party of guests.  “Come in this house,” he tells them, smiling.  “How ya doin’, Jim?”  He shakes hands with the man in the group.

“Can’t complain,” the man returns the handshake.  “I saw Josh and Dawn coming down the street in their van.”

Both men look out the door and see the vehicle pull up behind a car and park in front of the house.  The occupants get out and close their doors.  The man opens the cargo door and begins to pull a covered piece of equipment from the van and position it on the sidewalk.  The woman closes the cargo door and locks the van.  The man tilts the apparatus onto its wheels and guides it toward the house.  A couple of other men help lift the machine over the threshold and assist in shielding the door jambs.  With the shrouded mystery apparatus finally in the middle of the living room, its owner, Josh, announces, “Ta DA!”  Ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on the very latest in portable, automated spanking pleasure.  I give you . . . the ‘Angel Maker.’ ”  He whisks away the cover to reveal the stainless steel machine.  Everyone begins to applaud, voicing comments like, “It’s beautiful,” “I can hardly wait to try it out,” and “Oooh, it looks scary.”

“Okay, folks,” Monica says, getting their attention, “why don’t we all gravitate out onto the patio so people who are bringing frames can have some room to set them up.  We can chat out here while that’s going on.  Of course, the ones who specialize in putting things together can hang out in the living room and help.  Some people are still on the way.”  The majority of the group follow Monica out to the patio.

In response to subsequent rings of the doorbell, those who are closest admit the partygoers and welcome them.  Frames are assembled and made ready for use.

After meeting and greeting is done, Keith says, “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”  The woman in each twosome who own a machine or frame moves to take her place as her top helps her into or onto it, removing whatever clothing is an impediment and fastening whatever is necessary to prevent the woman’s escape.  After securing the women into the devices, the tops’ primary activity is wielding cameras and video recorders to immortalize the scenes of the torment their victims are enduring.  Soon, the room is filled with the whirr of electric motors and the sounds of wood and leather striking flesh and the windy swish of canes stirring the air.  After a short while, there begin to be reaction sounds, the usual “ow,” “uhnnh,” and “that hurts,” until—everything goes dark.  And still.  And silent.

“Not to worry, everyone,” Keith reassures the group.  “Light is on the way.  I have the situation under control.”  His voice fades somewhat as he moves away from the living room toward the kitchen.

One of the men moves carefully toward the window and peeks around the drapery to observe a pitch dark neighborhood.  “Hey, y’all?  This whole area is dark, all the way to the statue on the square.  There are lights on the bridge, but none this side of it.

From the kitchen, the sound of a drawer being opened is heard, and the glow of a flashlight can be seen.  Its beam plays around the kitchen, and a cupboard is opened.  A larger and stronger beam of light enhances the original one, and Keith comes back into the living room with the stronger light source, placing it on the coffee table and aiming it at the ceiling.  It reflects off the white surface and gives a faint glow to the entire room.

“Well, now.  Where were we?” Keith asks the group.

“I’m trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, that’s where,” replies Dawn, the occupant of the Angel Maker.  “Get me out of this thing.”

“Coming, Dear,” says her husband Josh.  Other men begin undoing latches and straps and bindings to free their bottoms from the other machines.

“What a bummer,” exclaims Kim.  “I was looking forward to trying out Monica and Keith’s Hidetanner.  Now what are we going to do?  Go home?”

Monica responds, “I don’t see why.  We could all sit and talk, share stories about our favorite spanking times.”  She pauses, looking around the room with a mischievous

twinkle in her eye.  “Or there is another option.”

All eyes are on Monica as she continues.  “We could do it the old-fashioned way.”

Dawn asks, “Do you mean OTK?  That kind of old-fashioned?”

“What’s ‘OTK’?” a woman named Emily asks.

Kim answers, “It means ‘Over the knee.’  An old-fashioned hand spanking while lying across someone’s lap.  Or it could be with a paddle or strap of some kind.  That’s what spankos used years ago, before all this technology.”

“Hmmm,” Emily muses.  “That sounds a little creepy.  I don’t think I’d like that.  It sounds too—I’m not sure what.  Close?  Intimate?

“Well, it is intimate,” agrees Monica, “but I think you should try it before you dismiss it altogether.  Keith, why don’t you and I demonstrate?”

“Ah, My Sweet.  You have made me an offer I cannot refuse,” her husband says, smiling.  After seating himself on the sofa, he beckons Monica to stand in front of him.  He puts his thumbs in the waistband of her slacks and gently pulls them down to her knees.  The he pats his right thigh as a signal for her to lie across his lap.  She drapes herself across his legs, with her upper body and her legs supported by the sofa.  He begins to rub her bottom gently, over her satin panties.  Then he smacks her right cheek with the smallest amount of force.  Then the left.  Then both, in the middle.  He develops a rhythm, increasing the force a little, but not enough to elicit more than a contented “mmm” from Monica.  After a couple of minutes, he stops and hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties and pulls them down.  She lifts herself off his thighs a few inches to help him get the undergarment down to her knees.  Then she settles back down on his lap so he can resume the spanking.  He increases the force of the spanks, bringing a deeper pink color to her bottom.  One smack leaves the prints of his fingers on her right upper thigh.  “Did that hurt?” he asks her.

“Mmmm.  Yes,” she replies.  “It feels good.  Why did we ever stop doing this?”

Keith pauses in his delivery of the smacks and rubs her bottom again.  “I don’t know.  This is much better than taking all those silly pictures and videos that just sit in the computer, never being looked at.  There’s just something about feeling the hot skin of your bottom under my hand.”

“Yes,” Monica agrees.  “And there’s something about feeling your warm, powerful, loving hand raining down on my bottom with such force.  I’d like to feel your belt, too.  Would you mind?”

“No, of course not,” Keith replies.  He stops spanking her and, being careful not to jostle her off his lap, unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the belt loops.

“I love that sound, Keith,” Monica tells him.

“Let’s see what else you love, My Love,” he answers.  He doubles the belt and brings it down on her pink-skinned bottom.

“Oww!  I think you mean business,” Monica exclaims.

“Well, you asked for it, right?” he teases.

“Yes, I asked for it,” she concurs.

“In so many words, right,” he prods, smiling.

“Yes, in so many words.”

“So, if it hurts, whose fault is that?” Keith asks.

“Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.  I just said it hurts.  I like it very much, and you do a magnificent job,” she praises.  To the others watching, she says, “Hey, what’re the rest of you waiting for?

The spectators began pairing up, and the various bottoms lay across their tops’ laps.  In due course, the sound of palms and belts slapping skin overrode all other noises, each couple appearing isolated in their own little world.

Minutes passed, and then hours.  Later, after nearly all the guests had left, Monica found Jeremy sitting on the sofa in the half-light, with Kim seated on his lap, her arms around his neck as he held her close.  Monica sat down on the sofa near Jeremy.  “So, Kim, did you have a chance to try out our Hidetanner?”

Kim murmurs into Jeremy’s neck, “No, I didn’t get around to it.”

Monica observes, “You don’t look too disappointed about it.”

Kim lazily turns her gaze in Monica’s direction, a contented smile on her face.  “No, Monica,” she muses.  “I’m not disappointed at all.”

Posted on

Best Laid Plans

 

Readers,

 

Well, damn.

What does a girl have to do to avoid yuk winter weather? Huh?

I’ve abstained from the Northeast and Midwest this winter, and done my best to pay close attention to the blue northers which seem to be just about everywhere this year.

So I figured that a trip to Atlanta and Charlotte this month would be doable. (Yes, I know that they had that freak snow in ATL a couple weeks ago, but that was FREAK -meaning : doesn’t happen often.)

If you haven’t figured out the gist of this post : I’m currently sitting in front of my Mac…in Las Vegas. Should’ve flown from Atlanta to Charlotte yesterday, and spent the next two days in lovely CLT. Instead, I took a last-minute, very very VERY expensive flight home from ATL late Monday night. A forecast of ‘ice pellets’ (what the hell is that, anyway?) in Atlanta and 5-8 inches of snow in Charlotte sent this Southern-bred gal right back to the Mojave desert, tootsweet!

Luckily, I had the opportunity to see and enjoy all my favorite friends in Not-hot-lanta, but, alas, have missed my pals in Charlotte. This is only the second time in all my travels that I’ve had to bypass a visit, and I’m torn – as much as I hate the nasty winter weather, I hate (almost) as much to miss seeing my playmates. (I’ll be back soon, you all…promise!)

I should take a moment here to rub in the fact that skies here in Las Vegas are blue, windows are open, and there’s a nice cool breeze…

–  Dana

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1000 Strokes Video : Angel Gives Til It Hurts!

 

Everyone,

I’m pleased to say that our Give Til it Hurts raffle winner has been kind enough to share his exclusive video of Angel receiving 1000 swats for charity – and we’ll be making it available for download on Clips4Sale and SpankingLibrary.com. Yay! 

As before, every cent collected from the sale of this video will be donated to animal charities, and I’ll post regular updates on this as well as other fundraising endeavors.

Look for the video later this week in my download stores.

Here’s a preview shot of Angel in her pink dropseat bunny pj’s, taking 1000 for the Team.

1000GiveTilItHurts

–  Dana

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‘Future Spank’ Story Contest Winner!

 

Readers,

Well! I have to say that I’m surprised at the number of entries that the Future Spank story contest garnered, each of them very well-written and imaginative. This was, even more than usual, a difficult choice. Thanks to everyone who entered their original work, and please do take a moment to comment on the stories so that our authors know you’ve enjoyed them.

–  Dana

 

And the winner is….

 

 

Jake Sees the Light

It was the light Jake noticed first. Walking up the gangplank and into the belly of an enormous metallic vessel filled with a myriad of wonders never before viewed by a human eye, it was the brightness of the light he noticed most. How long had it been since he had seen electric light? Twelve years? Fifteen? Somewhere between the first strike and the rapid depletion of the fossil fuels that followed, electricity had gone from common…to privileged… to extinct.

The entrance ramp continued upwards towards an open corridor where two Clairian women awaited him. They both wore one-piece uniforms, white and sleek. Snug enough to accentuate the fitness of the bodies beneath yet without losing the formality of militia. Guards he suspected, or perhaps some type of ship security force. They greeted him by name without offering their own.

“Welcome to Clairian Forces Resolution Craft Number Seven Mr. Karnes. Captain Erica has been expecting you. Right this way please”.

The two women escorted him down a series of further corridors, each one as bright and sterile as the next. The final hallway ended in front of a door much larger and much more ornate than any they had previously passed. Jake made the assumption this was their destination. Such grandeur clearly marked a place of importance.  A captain’s chambers.

He awaited their next move, expecting one of them to knock on the doors or verbally announce arrival. Both women stood motionless. After a brief silence Jake realized they were both looking towards him. His eyes met the gaze of both women. Neither of them spoke or offered any visual clue as to why they had stopped moving. After a moment the guard to his left gave her partner a knowing smile and the shrug of her shoulders. She reached forward and drew open the doors ushering all of them into the awaiting room.

The room was a contrast to everything Jake had witnessed on the ship thus far. This room was alive in color and texture. It was more reminiscent of an apartment than a space craft. The floors were covered in what appeared to be rubber-like tiles. Even through his shoes, Jake could feel the comfort of the material. There was furniture and appliances and all the trimmings of a living space. Photos and art hung stylishly on walls finished in warm hues of browns and blues.

The captain of the ship was sitting at a workstation. Her attire was similar to the guards, however hers appeared to be two-piece, black pants and a white top with the insignia of the ship on a crest just to the left of the neckline. She was older than the guards, heavier in stature, what Jake’s father would have referred to as big boned. Still her curves and femininity were clearly evident. She was viewing a monitor that was anchored to the desk. Her eyes briefly acknowledged their entry, and then just as quickly returned to the screen. Through a headset she spoke in a language Jake had never heard. After a brief dialogue into the device, she motioned one of the guards to approach. The guard stepped forward offering salute. The captain rose and nodded in response.

“Captain Erica. This is the man we were instructed to escort to your presence.”

Jake took a step towards the desk and offered his hand. “Good morning Erica. I’m Jake Kar…”

Captain Erica cut his words short, interrupting him mid-sentence.

“One moment Mr. Karnes. I am not yet done speaking with my team.” She extended a single finger that motioned for his silence, and returned her attention to the guards. “Thank you both for seeing our guest here. Is there anything else?”

Jake was more than flustered by the manner the woman had treated him. He was certainly not accustomed to being spoken down to; especially in the presence of what were clearly a couple of subordinate staff members. He could feel a twinge of resentment and the heat of a blush come to his face. He fought to remind himself of the importance of the meeting and hoped none of the women saw his discomfort. If they had, they certainly didn’t show any reaction to it.

The guard who had opened the door stepped forward. Once again in a dialect foreign to Jake (what he now assumed their native tongue) she spoke a few sentences to her captain. The captain was momentarily stoic. She glanced intently in Jake’s direction before uttering a response directed to the younger women. Both guards smiled, nodded and with a final salute were gone.

Jake once again made to speak. And once again was treated to the flat palm of the ship’s captain.

“One more moment please Mr. Karnes. We are about to begin the decontamination of the surface. I need to finalize procedure co-ordinates with my engineering department. You may make yourself comfortable in the sitting area”

She motioned Jake towards a small table and chairs deeper in the cabin and without further discussion returned to her seat behind the monitor.

Jake felt his face grow even warmer. Go ahead lady. Get your radiation vacuums sucking. Then we can sit down and we’ll get a few things straight about protocol and political respect. He made his way to the table area. Perhaps the curiosity in what he found there might help to sedate his irate state of mind.

The table was wood, kind of…and maybe a plastic too. It was a material he had never encountered before. The majority of the furnishings were constructed of the same type of hybrid median. The vibrant artwork was done on what looked like a type of frameless cloth. Along the wall was a stone fireplace were a blue flame burned with no apparent source of fuel. All of it was mysterious and just as equally fascinating. Perhaps most fascinating was the item lying on the mantle above the hearth.

Sitting alone on the warm stone was what looked like an antique implement of some sort. What it was he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps twelve inches in length, and three wide, with the exception of what looked like a narrower handle area on one end, it resembled a cross between a cooking device and perhaps a sporting racket. Whatever it was, it certainly showed plenty of wear. It looked like real wood…and it looked old.

He was startled out of his trance by the voice from behind him. “It’s called Living Wood. It’s considered sacred on my planet. You will learn more about it I’m sure Mr. Karnes. Your kind is always enthralled with that item. Welcome to my vessel.”

Jake shook the hand she was offering. Her grip was warm and firm.

“My kind Erica? My understanding was that I am the first human to board the ship?”

“I was not referring to your race. I was referring to your gender.” She replied with a smile. “And you have referred to me as Erica twice now Mr Karnes.  I am the captain of an interstellar spacecraft here to try to make your planet more inhabitable.  You will address me as Captain Erica or Ma’am. Sit please.”

There was that condescending tone in her voice again. It was time for him to nip this in the bud. He took a seat at the table across from her. Back straight and shoulders square, he folded his hands neatly in front of himself and spoke in a firm voice that reflected the confidence of his body language. “Very well…Captain Erica…on that note, perhaps we can begin with setting some mutual expectations.”

“Indeed Mr. Karnes. Do you know why we, why I, summoned you to this meeting today?”

“I would have to assume it is because of my experience with diplomatic affairs. I expect that I would serve to act as a liaison between our two peoples.”

“Partly correct Mr. Karnes. You were chosen because of all the profiles available to us, on what passes for leadership on this planet, yours showed the greatest potential to communicate our mandate to your fellow humans.”

“Mandate? My understanding is your mandate was quite clear. Your ships have the capacities to remove radioactive waste from our planet’s atmosphere and surface.”

“Again, only partly correct.” She smiled once more. “Tell me Mr. Karnes, you received a file along with your invitation to enter this ship. Have you read it fully?”

And once again Jake was back on the defensive. “No, not in its entirety. I must admit my policy with written material is that most often any pertinent information comes to light during verbal discussions. You must understand that with all the activity arising from your impending visit, my agenda was beyond full these past few days….”

His feeble reply brought her smile to the point of being a chuckle. “And I Mr. Karnes, do not have much time to devote to incompetence. I do however believe I will be able to expedite to you the purpose of our time together here today. Can I ask you to please bring me that paddle you are so intrigued by.”

The last part of her statement was not so much a request as it was a command. Jake wasn’t totally comfortable with that. But he was also mentally backpedaling about his neglect to read the documents.  He humored her and retrieved the wooden piece. What had she called it? A paddle? As he retrieved it, Captain Erica pushed her chair away from the table.

“No, not on that side. Bring it here to me. Come stand by my side.”

Jake was quickly losing any control of the debate. Her authoritative manner had him acting like a schoolboy rather than seasoned diplomat. He awkwardly followed her command and after handing her the paddle, remained standing in front of her chair.

“Good boy. Now lower your pants and under garments and place yourself across my knee.”

“Wha…” Jake was flabbergasted, understanding now the purpose of the implement and her intended use of it. “Erica, I am a representative of the United World on a serious mission. I assure you that I have no intentions of…”

This time it was a hard slap across his face that interrupted his sentence. He held his hand to his stinging cheek in disbelief and looked into the face of the woman seated calmly before him. Her eyes were locked to his.

“What you are is an egotistical little man who was given a simple task. An assignment I dare say that his arrogance prevented him from doing properly. Had you done your prescribed work, this conversation would be going much more productively for both of us. Had you read your briefing file you would have understood that the moment you entered this ship you became subject to Clarian laws. I am the captain of this vessel Mr Karnes. I therefore am the law. Your fate has been determined. You have two simple choices that surly even a being as pig headed as yourself can understand. You can do as I instruct willingly or I can summon my guards and they will do it forcefully. I care not either way…but my will shall be done. Now remove your clothing and get over my knee.”

Her words stunned Jake much deeper than the slap to the face had. Numbed by the force of her statements, he doubted he could have spoke even had he wanted to. He did not speak. He cast his eyes to the floor as trembling fingers slowly unbuckled and peeled down the lower potions of his clothing. He gave no resistance as she guided him across her awaiting lap.

“A very wise choice I assure you. Now let’s get down to work shall we?”

In a well practiced manner, the Captain adjusted his position to best suit her purpose. He had given himself to her…exactly as she knew he would. Men were the most predictable of beings. Big and brave at the onset, he was now putty in her hands to do with as she pleased. And she certainly intended to make sure he completely understood who was in command. She griped him around the waist with her left hand as she whisked his pants and underwear to his ankles with the right. Content with her preparations, she picked the paddle up and laid two swift and firm strokes to the center of his buttocks.

“Do I have your complete attention now Mr. Karnes?”

“Yes Ma’am”

She smiled. This was going to go well indeed. She laid on four more spanks to the same area of his behind.  “Very good answer. Had you read your files, you would have understood that no male is permitted to address any Clarion female without using her proper title. Mine, as I told you, is Captain Erica or Ma’am. Failure to use either when speaking to me will earn you demerits. Furthermore you will speak to me only when spoken to. Is this understood?”

She accentuated the question with more spanks.

“Ouch, ouch…yes Ma’am.”

“Very good. Now Mr. Karnes I intend to give you a very sound spanking. But first, for your benefit, I will give a brief history on Clarion culture. Ours is a very ancient race. We have travelled space for longer than your earth has known life. We have visited and studied countless planets. Do you know what our travels gave us Mr. Karnes?”

She waited briefly for a reply. When it did not come she applied two sharp blows.

“Ouch, ow. No Ma’am”

“Perhaps you are not as quick a study as I thought. What we learned was that unlike your human’s colorful interpretations of little green men from Mars, most life forms in the galaxies are actually humanoid. The other thing we ascertained was that almost seventy percent of worlds hosting life were ruled predominantly by the male of the species. The male…imagine Mr. Karnes. We also determined that almost one-hundred percent of those male dominated societies had a habit of ending in ruins. Are you still following me?”

“Yes Ma’am.” He was quick to answer. She smiled again.

“It seems that when men were left to rule, their foolish nature showed the way to war and poverty that eventually resulted in situations similar to what you have here on this planet. In contrast, the female lead planets thrive and excel by comparison. The gist of it Mr. Karnes is that the people of Clarion, men and women alike, came to the conclusion that entrusting leadership to the female gender would ensure the optimum  development of our planet. And so it has. Again forgive me for the brevity of my history lesson. The report you were given holds a much more detailed outlining of the events that brought us to where we are as a people today. I am sure you are going to be eager to read it at your earliest convenience…aren’t you?”

This time the question was immediately followed with a dozen very hard swats to his rear.

“Yes Ma’am, ow, please, yes Ma’am”

“What we have developed is a society where men pledge their obedience and respect to their mates and are expected to live up that promise. When they fail Mr. Karnes, they find themselves in the exact position you now find yourself in.”

With that she fell silent. She temporally sat down the paddle as she allowed for the measure of her words to sink in and for the anticipation to build in his mind.  She understood the importance of that anticipation to the male psyche. She permitted herself an opportunity to caress and explore the bottom aimed so vulnerably ready for her ministrations with the paddle. She had tanned many a naughty male behinds and she had full intention to blister this one very well. When she felt him begin to shift with tension across her lap, she picked the paddle up once more.

“Do not attempt to get up. Try to keep your hands and feet on the floor. Minor pleading is acceptable. If it becomes excessive you will be given more demerits.”

And without further adieu the Captain got to the task at hand. She spanked him. She began on his upper cheeks, first one side then the other working a consistent pattern until she reached the crease where butt met thigh. After a couple blows to the tops of his legs, her paddle would then make the return journey, this time from bottom to top…only to begin the entire process again. Over and over, back and forth, back and forth, up and down, up and down. Despite Jakes continual stream of “ouches” and “ows” she calmly and consistently delivered a good hundred strokes to his bucking and twisting behind before pausing.

“Yes Mr. Karnes, it hurts doesn’t it?”

The two strokes he received for once more failing to answer were hard enough to bring him to the edge of tears.

“Oh, yes Ma’am”

“We call it Living Wood because it almost physically bonds with the person holding it Mr. Karnes. The mood and the emotion of that person become reflected in the wood itself. It’s amazing really. It is like the paddle senses the intentions of the woman wielding it and adjusts its weight and force to best achieve the woman’s desired effect. For instance a woman can put the same amount of force into two different spankings, but if she is angry, the spanking delivered while angry is applied much more severely by the paddle. Simply amazing. Perhaps I should demonstrate. Let me think about the way your arrogance angers me.”

With that she resumed the paddling and Jake instantly felt the difference in the blows. The paddle was snapping into him with considerably more force. Enough to bring tears to his eyes…and quiet sobs to his throat. The spanking was no longer coming with any discernible pattern. Sometimes it would be back and forth, back and forth, and then she would land several times all on one cheek or even on one spot. Jake was struggling to keep his position. He felt like he was on fire. He was pleading now, begging for her to stop the relentless assault on his posterior. She was speaking again. She didn’t stop spanking but did slow in pace with the majority of the strokes landing intentionally near the crease of his tender sit spot.

“Your inexperience with being disciplined prevents your noticing (spank), but the Living Wood is also reacting with you (spank). Had I been using any other type of wood (spank) your bottom would have long since become somewhat numb, thus lessening the effect of each blow (spank). The Living Wood prevents that (spank), reducing any dulling of the spanking what so ever. The result (spank), is that every stroke hurts (spank) just (spank) as much (spank) as the (spank) one (spank) before (spank) (spank) (spank).”

The last sentence came with a flurry of paddling that broke all remnants of Jakes resolve. With a great sobbing heave, he slumped like a ragdoll across her lap and cried freely without reservation.

‘I’m sorry Ma’am. Please Captain Erica, I’m sorry…I’ll be good.”

The Captain continued with another dozen resounding spanks before ceasing again.

“There, there. That’s a good boy.”

And she meant it. He had taken his punishment well, without excessive fussing and was clearly contrite and remorseful as he sobbed quietly across her knee. His bottom was radiating with a deep shade of red. The part he sat on displayed purplish bruising and a few small blisters. He would remember this session each time he sat for at least a week. And that was the point after all. To learn. To repent. To behave.

As she slowly rubbed the paddle across the surface of his inflamed behind, Jake began to react in a much different fashion. His sobbing melded into a low moan.

“What you are feeling now Mr. Karnes is another attribute of the Living Wood. Just as it can reflect anger and frustration, it can also reflect compassion and caring. In the hands of an understanding and loving woman it can also deliver much pleasure to a bottom. I can assure you both men and women can come to appreciate this.”

She abruptly removed the paddle from his behind. She did respect him for the way he had accepted her discipline. It was out of that respect that she knew she must make sure his spanking was memorable enough to improve his behaviour moving forward.

“However your pleasure is not the purpose at hand. I believe you have leaned a good lesson thus far. A lesson that will benefit us both. Now I must ensure that lesson is remembered for a good time to come. And then unfortunately we have your demerits to account for”

She methodically went back to her original pattern of paddling, back and forth and up and down, encompassing his entire crimsoned behind. Jake resigned himself to taking the spanking with as little resistance as possible. Sensing her intention, and his repentance, the paddle fell just hard enough to drive the point home.

When finally she felt he had been spanked enough, she released her grip on his waist and instructed him to stand and bend over the back of the chair. He compiled without question, not eager to reignite her wrath. He doubted he would ever be able to defy the Clarion captain again. Her wish would be his command. Perhaps there was certain rightness about that.

For her part, Captain Erica was pleased. She knew he would be very attentive to her needs moving forward. She would give him an hour to read the report, and then instruct him to contact the wife of each member of Earth’s Leadership Council. She would start with them. The ship’s cargo hold contained enough Living Wood paddles for every woman on earth.

She went back to her work station and returned with a slender cane. As she flexed it in her hands she instructed Jake on what would constitute the completion of his punishment.

“Had you read our report, your session would be over now. In a few minutes, when we are finished with your lesson, you will read it. You will find a complete list of infractions that will warrant you demerits. You have earned several today. Each demerit is punishable with three strokes from the cane. You will receive three for failure to open a door for a woman, and another nine for not addressing me by my proper title on three separate occasions. Place your hands flatly on the seat of the chair. If you remove them before you are given permission, your punishment will begin anew and an additional three strokes will be added on. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am, Captain Erica.”

“Very nice Mr. Karnes. Do you have any other questions before I begin?”

“Ma’am, is the cane made from Living Wood also?”

Captain Erica chuckled and took her position behind him. Tapping the cane on the lower portion of his bottom she replied “No, it’s just plain old rattan. Some things of your earth need no improvement.”

She pulled back her arm to continue Jake’s lesson…..

End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Give Til it Hurts Raffle #1 Winner!

And the winner is….

Our lucky winner will receive a lovely and evil set of Caneiac implements as well as an exclusive custom video of Angel receiving a swat for every dollar donated!

Keep reading for all the information on donors, helpers, and the beautiful animals who’ve benefitted from the raffle.

 

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In total, we raised $1000 for animals in need! I’m terribly impressed and forever in the debt of every one of you.

Donations from this raffle have supported several organizations and animals. Below, a list of recipients from the Give Til it Hurts Raffle #1:

 

Raven Woods Animal Sanctuary : $400

Raven Woods is a no-kill animal shelter (mostly dogs with a few cats) in rural Roseland, Louisiana. Caring for approximately 200 rescued animals and operating strictly on personal income and donations, the folks at RavenWoodsRescue.org can use our help year ’round.

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Raven Woods – Minnie Mouse

 

Guardians of Rescue : $200

This donation was made to Guardians of Rescue for a specific case : the dogs of Olympic Animal Sanctuary. Kept in terrible squalor, these 124 dogs have been saved and are in the process of being rehabilitated by the good people at GoR and the folks who run the RUFFF facility in Arizona. RUFFF itself, in a very rural area along the NV/AZ border, houses around 300 rescued animals year round.

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GoR and RUFFF : The Olympic dogs

 

Rescue Ranch : $100

The Rescue Ranch serves as a low-cost/free spay and neuter organization to approximately 1/3 of the state of Georgia – most of these counties don’t even have animal services divisions. RR is responsible for thousands of spay/neuter and TNR’s annually.

 

 Blind Cat Rescue : $100

The name says it all. Homed in North Carolina, Blind Cat Rescue shelter is a haven for sightless kitties and those with feline fiv/hiv who would have otherwise been euthanized. A beautiful organization and a bunch of gorgeous cats.

BCR - Chester the wonder kitten
BCR – Chester the wonder kitten

 

Community Cat Coalition of Clark County : $100

The ‘C5’ is an all-volunteer organization tackling the problems of over 200,000 feral cats in Clark County, Nevada. With spay/neuter, TNR, feral colony support, and numerous other humane outreach programs, C5 is up against a herculean task and working hard.

 

Fund A Pet Miracle : $50

FundAPetMiracle.com is a site dedicated to raising funds for individual animals’ needs. We contributed fifty dollars to Blue’s medical bills. Blue the Pitbull has had a tough life, but the folks at Animal Aid for Vermilion Area Rescue are making sure he gets the best care and a great future…

Beautiful Blue
Beautiful Blue

 

Becky’s Hope : $50 

Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue in Texas rescues and rehabilitates abused and neglected horses. Expenses for this type of large animal rescue run very high, and we’ll be revisiting this organization in future fundraisers.

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Becky’s Hope – Dreamer

 

** Please feel free to check out these organizations online, for yourself, and see all the great work they’re doing. You just may be compelled to help a bit more…

 

Huge, enormous, gigantic thanks to everyone who donated. Below, a list of pseudonyms for all the generous folks who participated. You’re ALL animal heroes! (Participants are asked to choose a pseudonym, for discretion.):

 

Kalman   $100

Robin   $100

Lab Saver   $25

Dana’s World Record Holder   $50

Oldog   $25

Guardian Angel   $360

Rigel   $100

Randy Lee   $15

Edmonton Spanko   $100

Puggybear   $50

Arrogant Brat   $50

Dante   $25

 

Also, to everyone who blogged, tweeted, FB’d, linked, and shared – networking is powerful, and we couldn’t have raised this much for animal charities without you, either. Below, folks who helped spread the word (please forgive any unintentional exclusions here):

Angel

Secret Spanko

Erica Scott

Cheyenne Jewel

Bright Bottom

Kristian Comes Undone

Someone’s Gonna Get It

Chross Blog

Spanked Hortic

Jerry Bear

 

Extra Super Enormous thanks to the wonderful folks at Cane-iac for donating the set of evil spanking implements, and to our sweet Angel for participating in the video prize!!

 

** NOTE : Neither I nor Dana Kane Films are in any way affiliated with any particular rescue group or organization. By donating to their causes, we neither request nor expect their endorsement. The publishing of names of organizations in receipt of donated funds is done only in the name of full disclosure.

** All donation receipts are available for viewing by anyone who requests them. There will never be any question as to whether every cent donated has gone to deserving charities.

** There are payment processing fees associated with both receiving donations as well as turning those around and giving them to the appropriate orgs. This usually amounts to about ten percent of total donation amount. I cover these fees personally, so that the full amount donated goes into the hands of the charities.