Bad Boudin and Other Horrors

 

Readers,

I’m a transplanted Cajun-Country-bordering-Texan, living in the middle of the damn Mojave desert. I am reminded of this simply by looking out my bedroom window, the view from which features a stunning mountain vista in the distance (with the Stratosphere much closer), or stepping foot outside for three seconds (the day’s high will be a dry 101-ish). It’s hotter than hades here, and that’s saying something when you consider the area from which I hail.

“But it’s a dry heat” you say.

“Go to hell” I say in return, “Or just come here instead.”

There are lots of things to love about Las Vegas, but, as Dorothy kindly reminds us every year, there’s no place like home. And for me, there’s no food like Cajun food (throw Creole and Soul foods in there too, as it’s all been served to me on the same plate, most of my life) to make me feel like I’m at home.

Cajun/Creole/Soul food wasn’t something we ate in restaurants, it’s what we ate at home. Turnip greens and cornbread? Yes, please. Boiled crawfish with a side of potatoes and corn? Heck yeah! Boudin and cracklin (google it)? Oh, god save the queen..

So imagine my happiness when a little internet sleuthing paid off a few days ago – I’d done a general internet search for “boudin las vegas” and was absolutely tickled when a yelp-reviewed meat market on the other side of town showed up, with a comment reading, “Every kind of Cajun food you can imagine, even boudin!”, or something close, from a lady who seemed pretty darned happy. So, with images of my long-lost gastronomic loves dancing merrily in my head, I loaded up and made the excruciatingly long haul across town.

*If you’re wondering, it’s excruciating because the traffic lights here are what I believe to be the longest, worst-timed mechanisms in the free world. Coupled with the statistical fact that 6 of 10 drivers in Las Vegas are impaired at Any Given Time, and you have a recipe for extremely defensive driving and long, slow, harrowing trips just about anywhere.

 

 

Having finally arrived in one piece, I entered a cute little old school style meat market – heavy on meat, light on everything else. While perusing the fresh meats case, I noticed that boudin was conspicuously absent…so I strolled over to the freezer case.

Aha! Boudin. Mild and hot. Three links per package.

I grabbed three, headed for the counter, and hauled ass home – where I almost literally stared down this package of boudin until it thawed. Painful hours, my friends, painful hours.

Fantasies of smoked boudin, boudin balls, boudin dip, and other boudin-based concoctions made me a bit lightheaded, and the anticipated scent of boudin washed through my nostrils like the ghosts of food past and future. (Waxing poetic about food is not new, I’m just bad at it.)

Since the post’s titled Bad Boudin, you’ve naturally figured out by now that the boudin was, indeed, bad. More than bad. Mealy and watery and soupy and, just….gross.

 

 

My disappointment cannot be contained; my mortification shall not abate. Boudin made in Lake Charles, Louisiana, should not taste (or look or smell) like that.

I guess if I really, really want to revisit the food of my youth, I’m going to have to once again revisit the geography of it – and next time, I’ll bring a cooler full of dry ice.

–  Dana

 

PS. Please don’t drink and drive. Or text and drive. Or stare at your GPS and drive…you get the idea. Just drive, dammit.

 

Sin City Spanking Story Contest Winner

Readers,

Last month I received several entries for the “Sin City Spanks” story contest, and had a more difficult time than usual making a final decision. Ultimately, I chose “All Bets Are Off”, as I loved the character ‘Ma’s’ line about tickling….you’ll see.

Congratulations to our winning author, and I’m sure that you’ll all enjoy this entry and all the rest.

–  Dana

All Bets Are Off

All Bets Are Off

                “Wait! I can explain!” Crystal begged as the strong hands gripping her pulled her into a dark room. “It’s not what it looks like! OOOF!” she yelped, the wind leaving her body, as she was unceremoniously dumped onto a hard wooden chair. “That hurt,” she said gasping for breath.

The petite, bottle blonde blinked her eyes trying to breathe normally and get a good look at the person standing over her. It was impossible given that that the large male body was being lit from behind by the bright lights of the casino she had up until recently been happily gambling in. Well, gambling in the sense of winning a ton of the casino’s money by means that were anything but honest.

“Cheating is supposed to hurt,” the man grunted as he closed the door. “Think about that while you wait for Ma.”

Crystal shivered in the dark. She had seen enough of the room she was in to know that it was little larger than a closet. She contemplated banging on the door but who would hear her over the sounds of the slot machines, cheering players at the craps tables, and the music filling the brightly lit gambling floor? Instead she hugged her knees to her chest not caring that her short silver dress was riding up. Who would even notice in the dark?

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened causing the young lady within to blink against the onslaught of light. “Oh, thank God!” Crystal said as she rubbed her eyes back into focus and saw a police officer standing there, “I was being held captive in here!” she said her hands going to her theatrically heaving bosom, which the outfit she was wearing accentuated to a most impressive degree.

“Detained ma’am, not held captive,” the officer said in a polite drawl, “On suspicion of defrauding a gaming establishment. A suspicion which is very much true given the security footage I have reviewed. And, given the amount you took, this constitutes grand larceny – a felony.”

Crystal swallowed hard hearing this but was not ready to give in yet. She sidled up to the officer her gait taking on an intoxicating sashay while her voice dropped into a purr, “I’m sure we can work something out officer,” she said huskily one perfectly manicured finger tracing a heart shape on the police officer’s chest teasingly.

“That would be between you and Ma, uh, the owner of the casino ma’am,” the police officer said stepping back. “Would you like to speak with her or prefer to take this down town?”

“Fine, let me meet the bitch,” Crystal said, with a sigh, her pretty face screwed up petulantly.

Crystal was not sure what to expect as she was led into the owner’s office. She thought it might be a bit more colorful given the garish lights and loud noises of the casino gaming floor and was almost disappointed that the room looked more like a lawyer’s office or something an executive would use – all dark wood, thick carpets, and expensive looking artwork. “You’re the owner?” she blurted seeing a petite red-headed woman about her own age standing beside the desk. “I thought you were the cocktail waitress!” she said sneeringly looking the young woman up and down.

The red-head laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. “I am the cocktail waitress silly, and you’re the ungrateful brat that not only didn’t tip me but also stole from Ma,” she said rolling her eyes. “Wrong move,” she said laughing again as the large leather chair which up until now had been facing the window slowly turned.

“I’m the owner,” the chair’s occupant said coolly in a tone that sent a shiver down Crystal’s spine. “Marjory Phillips-Brightsworth, but most people just call me Ma,” she said. “I hear someone’s been a naughty girl,” she finished raising an eyebrow and giving Crystal a look that turned her knees to jelly.

Crystal licked her lips nervously unsure what to say. Something about this woman made her very nervous. She looked nothing like Crystal’s mother but everything from the way she spoke, the way she held her head, and even the way she steepled her fingers in front of her chin gave Crystal visions of cutting switches, hard oak hairbrushes, and long minutes bawling in the corner – something that had not happened in several years.

“I…no, it’s not like that…I…I didn’t do anything wrong!” she stammered trying to find something to say to get out of this predicament.

“Well, that can always be decided by a court of law,” Ma said turning her attention to the police officer. “John, would you be so kind as to take this young lady to the police station. I will be pressing charges.”

“No! Wait!” Crystal said pulling away from the police officer who was reaching for her arm. “He said we could work something out! Please, let me work something out!”

Ma nodded and looked Crystal over carefully. The girl was trying her best to look elegant but the hem of her sparkly silver dress was frayed slightly speaking of something picked up at a thrift store and her shoes looked cheap and uncomfortable though stylish enough at a cursory glance. Ma guessed without the heels Crystal might make five foot two, but she noticed that Crystal was also doing her best to look not just taller but also older and more worldly that she was – while all the womanly curves were there the young lady in front of her lacked the poise and sophistication of the persona she was trying to emulate. “How old are you little girl?” she asked.

“Little Girl?” Crystal snapped, “I’m 25!”

The casino owner sighed and the cocktail waitress’s sprightly laugh filled the air again. Crystal was beginning to hate that laugh. “That is the last lie you tell me tonight young lady. The next one gets you a trip with the officer here,” Ma said sternly.

“Fine,” Crystal said her bottom lip pulled up into a pout, “I’m 19.”

“It seems we can add underage drinking and underage gambling to your list of charges,” Ma said shaking her head, “And given my casinos strict ID policy, I am betting you have a fake id in that faux Coach purse of yours.”

Crystal pouted again and stomped her foot in frustration, yes, actually stomped like a wilful toddler. “How do you know everything?!” she said her voice taking on a whining tone. It really was like talking to her own, seemingly omnipotent, mother.

The waitress laughed again, “Ma’s had lots of practice with lying little girls,” she said rubbing her bottom with a wink, “Lord knows she never lets me get away with anything,” she said her small hands continuing to rub under her short skirt.

“I let you get away with far too much,” Ma said rolling her eyes, a gesture she somehow made look elegant, “I think you are long due another maintenance spanking.”

“Wait, what? Spankings?” Crystal said laughing despite of, or perhaps because, of her nervousness. “You still get spanked?” she said looking at the waitress.

“Only when I need it,” the young woman said sagely, “though right now it would be my own pretty little tushie I’d worry about little miss thief,” she said glancing very meaningfully at Crystal’s backside.

“Uh, sorry Ma, I just got a call,” the police officer said motioning to the ear piece attached to his radio, “If this one gives you any trouble just call us back. I’m sure the ladies down at Florence would be more than happy to make her acquaintance,” he said before hurrying out of the room to whatever emergency dispatch had called about.

“Florence?” Crystal said unsure what that meant.

“The correctional facility where you are likely to end up if this goes forward officially,” Ma said matter-of-factly. “A pretty little girl like you would be very popular indeed.”

Crystal shivered wondering how all this went so wrong and tried to swallow back her fear. “Um, what about, uh, well, um, unofficially?”

“Unofficially you get your round little fanny whacked until you just think it is on fire!” the waitress said with her damned laugh again.

Ma sighed and pointed to the door. “Go back to work Becca. I think we can handle this without your commentary, though I will see you back here at the end of your shift. Bring your hairbrush,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Yes ma’am,” the young red-head said laughing again and flipping up the back of her short skirt to show her matching red panties below as she sauntered out of the office.

“That girl,” Ma said shaking her head, “she won’t be laughing in a few hours when I am done with her. So which is it to be – official or unofficial?”

Crystal bit her bottom lip her hands playing nervously with the hem of her skirt. “Uh, well, um, if we do the, um, the spanking,” she said her face blushing crimson, “will that be the end of it?”

“It will keep your pretty little backside out of jail if that is what you mean,” Ma said with a nod.

“Okay,” Crystal said in barely a whisper, “I’ll take the spanking.”

The elegant casino owner smiled and stood, smoothing her skirt, before moving to the front of the desk. As Ma approached her, Crystal realized that the large luxurious chair had made the woman appear much smaller than she actually was. Standing and getting closer, Crystal realized that Ma had to be close to six feet tall and had a figure that showed she focused as much on staying in shape as she did on her business. Even in her six inch heels, Crystal was shorter than the stern looking lady who was about to spank her behind red.

“Instead of standing there, your mouth open like a cod fish,” Ma said borrowing a line from Mary Poppins, “how about you pass me over the spanking chair,” she said indicating a simple, sturdy, straight-backed wooden chair that until now Crystal hadn’t noticed. “Yes, I have a chair just for spanking,” Ma said noticing the young woman’s startled look.

“Do you do this kind of thing often?” Crystal asked as she moved the chair into the spot Ma indicated. “I mean, you must if you have a special chair and all.”

Ma nodded and sat on the chair arranging her clothes so as not to wrinkle them. “I’ve always found that people are going to make mistakes; they’re going to mess up. I could fire them. I could have them arrested. I could write those people off as a failure. But in a town like Vegas, even with all its people, I’d soon run out of staff. It’s far better to settle things in a more direct, yet far less drastic manner.  Speaking of which, I think you know where you are supposed to be little girl,” she said patting her lap.

Crystal was only too aware of where she was supposed to be and draped herself expertly over the waiting knees.

“I’d say you have done this before young lady,” Ma said as she lifted Crystal’s short skirt and laid it over her lower back. “Did you mother spank you often?” she asked tugging down the tiny thong the teenager had on underneath. “Running around wearing skimpy underwear like this, I’d hope she tanned your hide for you at least once a week.”

Crystal blushed again and nodded her head. “Yes ma’am, she, well, maybe not that often, but yes, she did spank me.”

“Too bad the lesson didn’t take,” Ma said raising her strong right arm high above the now bare bottom presented so vulnerably over her lap. “Let’s hope this one stays with you a little longer.”

Any response Crystal may have made to that comment was cut off by Ma’s sturdy palm landing stingingly on her right bottom cheek. Despite being the veteran of countless over-the-knee spankings, the sheer force of the smack caused her to kick her feet and look back in surprise.

“Yes, a spanking from me hurts,” Ma said reaching up with her non-spanking hand to smooth a strand of hair off of Crystal’s face. “But if a spanking tickled all little girls would want one now wouldn’t they?” she said landing a matching spank to Crystal’s other bare bottom cheek.

Crystal winced and decided that this little girl sure as heck didn’t want one! A sentiment that only grew as her bottom bounced, jiggled, and reddened under Ma’s well practiced spanking hand. Tears soon dripped down Crystal’s cheeks and her yelps turned to cries, which soon turned to begging. “Please! I’ll be good! OW! Pleeease! It hurts!” she sniffled trying to reach back to cover her bottom.

“Yes, I know, but we already talked about how spankings hurt,” Ma said continuing to spank every inch of Crystal’s well-presented backside. Actually, the young woman’s exposed rear-end was blushing a rosy pink from the backs of her knees to the top of her exposed bottom cheeks. Ma was a firm believer that thighs should not be spared even if spanks there would show below the hem of a naughty girl’s short dress or skirt. “How about we talk about how you aren’t going to steal anymore.”

“OW! I won’t! I promise I won’t!” Crystal yelped as she tried to twist and turn to avoid the punishing spankings. “For real!”

Ma sighed, “’I won’t’ could apply to anything young lady. Be specific or how am I supposed to know that we are both on the same page?” she said continuing the pepper Crystal’s bottom with firm spanks.

“I won’t, OW! I won’t steal anymore and I won’t even think about, about stealing and and and OW! I won’t do it again I swear!” Crystal cried tears running down her cheeks.

Ma nodded and rested her hand on Crystal’s now crimson bottom. “Hmm…this is one hot little backside,” she said feeling each cheek in turn. “I’m inclined to believe you, but why on earth did you try to steal from me in the first place?”

Crystal sniffled and tried to get her composure back now that the spanking had stopped. “I don’t have any money, and no one is hiring so I can’t get a job. You know how the economy has been.”

“How about college?” Ma asked rubbing the bare cheeks over her knee gently.

Crystal sighed, “I can barely afford rent, let alone college,” she said wiping her tears with on hand, while leaving the other on the carpet to support herself.

Ma nodded and patted Crystal’s bottom causing the young woman to tense. “Oh, sorry, it helps me think,” she said noticing her distress. “I have a proposition for you – one I made once before and so far have not regretted. How about you come and work here for me?”

“Wait, work here? Uh, really? I just cheated and tried to steal money from you,” Crystal said her tone of voice reflecting the shock her face was showing.

“Well, I’ve found that ‘it takes one to know one’ is certainly true when it comes to cheats and thieves. Becca must have caught two dozen cheats by now. Who do you think tipped security off to your little scheme?” Ma asked.

“Becca? The waitress?” Crystal gasped.

“One and the same,” Ma said with a smile. “So what do you say?”

“Um, what’s the catch?”

“Well, if I ever catch you stealing or cheating again you will be arrested, and if your attitude or work ethic ever slips you will find yourself right back where you are now – over my knee getting your little behind smacked until it steams. Besides that I will pay you a fair wage and pay your tuition. Of course, if your grades ever slip below a B, you won’t sit for a week. It’s the same arrangement I have with Becca.”

“I’ll do it,” Crystal said with a small nod. It was the best offer she’s had in years.

“Great. I’ll draw up the legal documents and get Becca to get you a uniform. You can start tonight. I hope you can serve drinks with a sore bottom,” Ma said giving Crystal’s bottom another smack for good measure. “Welcome to the family.”

DanaKaneSpanks.com Sunday Update : 5/25 (I know it’s Monday, dammit..)

 

Jealousy

Preview Video:

 

(POV) Barracuda : The Interview

NEW DVDs!

Marital Discipline III

Marital Discipline 3 with Dana Kane

(Eight Canes, Foreplay, Caught Masturbating Again, You Asked for It, Bruised for Brownies, and Water War! Runtime approx. 63 minutes.)

 

Brand New Ass

Dana Kane Brand New Ass

 

(BNA: Red (2 Scenes), BNA: Lacey (2 scenes), BNA: Agatha (2 scenes), 60+ minutes.)

For more spanking videos, preview photos, scene description, and join links, visit:
Individual downloadable spanking video scenes also available on my
Clips4SaleScolding and SpankingLibrary studio pages.

When it rains, it pours.

 

I just wanted to stop in here for a minute and make sure that I’m not the only one:

 

Please raise your hand if you’ve recently said, “Ohholyhell, if one more heinous thing happens over the course of this week I am going to lose my freaking mind!” (or some equivalent)…

 

Okay. That makes me feel better. And hopefully, you don’t feel silly sitting there in front of your computer with your hand in the air.

 

–  Dana

Conversations with Spankos : One question. A million answers.

(*Remember, this is only a ‘conversation’ if you comment in the box below, so that other readers can share in the experience. Sending your comment in an email to me sort of defeats the point.)

 

Readers,

One of the most often discussed topics for new and exploring spankos (and many old hats, too) is, “Where does it come from?” 

I don’t know if we ever figure it out completely, and I think that that’s probably a very good thing (as the unknown causes us to explore) but I still want to know what you think about this short, not-so-simple question:

Where does IT come from?

Your spanking fetish. Your need. Your interest. Whatever you want to call it. When and where do you think yours derived, or can you not remember a time when you weren’t ‘already into’ spanking?

(We usually avoid pre-adult spanking conversations here, but I’m going to relax this a bit for obvious reasons – most of us were interested in spanking before we were able to drive so it reasons that we’d need to talk about it in terms of age and experience.)

Maybe we can all figure it out together…

 

–  Dana

Repeated forced viewing of my pets.

 

Go ahead, pretend you don’t like looking at pictures of cuddly critters.

I’m gonna post these anyway, because I do.

DK Reno
Reno the Catnip Kitty

 

DK Jungle Cats
Jungle Cats (Reno, Noodle, and Tahoe)

 

DK Mr Pancakes
Pancakes -plural. For obvious reasons.

 

DK Pretty GIrl
The Pretty Girl, living up to her name.
DK Buddy
Buddy, who is gassy – but we love him anyway, and he’s sorry.