Ms. Dana Kane – Professional Disciplinarian
"Hold still long enough and I'll spank you, too."
Training the New Assistant
Fae Has a Fever
The Preview Video :
Live Session Video : Severe Punishment
The preview video :
OTK Daughter Discipline
(Fae Dcay’s first ever on-screen spanking!)
The preview video:
For more spanking videos, preview photos, scene description, and join links, visit:
Over the Babysitter’s Knee
POV : My Mom Says You Need a Spanking
You Little Perv!
POV : Spank Her While I Watch
Readers,
Mind if I slide my soapbox out from under the sofa? It’ll only take a minute…
I know that there are as many kinds of fetishists as there are people and that variety speaks for a lot, but I seem to be experiencing an uptick in the number of Unacceptable Correspondences of late and have to comment on a few things which I believe all of us should already know.
*For the uninitiated, these are called Common Courtesies in my house (which includes my blog, my email, and anything else which I can selfishly call mine).
**I should also mention that many of these things MAY not get you into trouble with every disciplinarian, and I make no statement or judgment about other’s acceptable practices. What I WILL say is that you’re not likely to get yourself into trouble anywhere else, if you follow a few simple protocols.
How to Not Insult the Lady with the Paddle
1. Although it’s terribly difficult, try not to refer to your genitals in correspondence. Seriously, we all have them, so you’re not bestowing any groundbreaking information with Junk Talk – and trust me, we’ve all heard entirely too many genital details already. Be original and try sticking to things like thoughts, feelings, and ideas. Hey, maybe even spanking!
2. Same goes for filthy language. I don’t mean general use curse words here, but the ones you’d never say in front of your grandma. A good rule of thumb is that, if you wouldn’t say it at grandma’s 90th birthday party, then I probably don’t want to hear it either.
3. Sex. See #1. If I specifically ask about your sex life, sexual technique, or sex ninja exploits – well, you’ll be the first.
(Now’s a good time to say that I a)talk about sex, b)have sex, and c)can be a downright bawdy gal under the right circumstances, so I’m not saying don’t BE who you are. Simply BE the you who has sense enough not to talk about that crap to me – especially if we don’t even know one another in Real Life.)
4. Play by the rules. This one’s specifically for those who exuberantly share/submit their spanking stories before ever having read the posting guidelines. Again, there is much information on the nature of my puritanical and iron-fisted demand for squeaky-cleanliness.
5. Don’t ask me to explain the rules of engagement to you; if you’ve reached the ripe old age of (fill in the blank) without the good sense to behave politely then I cannot help you.
6. If you’re lucky enough to get away with a “warning” about your behavior, heed it. Most don’t get a second, and nobody gets a third. You want discipline, buddy? Here ya go…discipline yourself right out the door.
7. Remember that your disciplinarian is not a prostitute, phone sex worker, sexual wellness counselor, or humping post. If your sexual needs are going unmet, it’s your responsibility to see to them. In other words, try to get laid someplace else, ’cause I’m just here for the spanking. Thanks.
8. The bottom line: As I spank my way around this country, yanking both men and women across my lap in what is always a private and intimate setting, I want to be just as comfortable and able-to-trust as you are in that moment. You can make that happen *just like that* by simply minding your manners.
Is that asking too much? Because, if it is, I’ll quote MY grandma:
“Don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya.”
– Dana
PS. I’ll add that you don’t want to become part of a pop culture cautionary tale, either..
My friend Erica Scott receives so much trollish email that she’s put it all together into a BOOK – called Correspondence Hall of Shame. She’s recorded hundreds (if not thousands) of rude, embarrassing, and unintelligible emails over the years. She’s also published a great many of the more remarkable ones publicly, along with her scathingly hilarious commentary. You don’t want to be one of THOSE people, do you?
Readers,
Finally, ‘Amy’s First Spanking’, a great way to end May’s Sin City Spanks story contest entries – have fun with this one, and stay tuned for the next spanking story contest!
– Dana
My name is Amy and I am a 21 year old former Las Vegas showgirl. I was abandoned by my parents as an infant and raised in foster homes. I was putting myself through college at U.N.L.V. as a showgirl until I got involved with a gangster twice my age. I was enamored by his good looks, smooth talking, the way he threw his money around, and his celebrity friends. Because of his fast lane life style I dropped out of college and into the Las Vegas nightlife. I am currently lying in bed at the luxurious Vegas hotel where I was employed as a showgirl with a very sore well spanked bottom. It was my first spanking ever and I’m afraid it won’t be my last. I will never have to wonder again how a spanking feels! I am a former showgirl as of about two hours ago when I decided to drop my gangster boyfriend and the Vegas nightlife in exchange for finishing college.
My former boyfriend is a thief and a jerk; but, I never realized it until tonight. Little did I know that the money he threw around came from extorting money from the casino in Carolyn’s hotel. Carolyn is a gorgeous motherly beauty who was celebrating her 50th birthday and looks 20 years younger. She is 6′ tall weighs 140 lbs, has red hair, brown eyes and a muscular well toned body. She is accompanied by her husband of three years Jonathan, who is about one half her age and 5’5″ tall, her lawyer Alexis is a 6′ blond bombshell of 30, and Alexis’ lover Megan who is 5’4″ tall and 25 years old and looks like a college coed.
Carolyn has turned the 500 million dollars she inherited from her 1st husband Douglas into over a billion dollars. She suspected that money was missing from her Las Vegas casino. She has a dominate relationship with her younger husband Jonathan. Carolyn pays the bills and Jonathan keeps house. If he screws up its over her knee! Jonathon worked for Carolyn before their marriage and is a computer whiz. He checked the financial statements and discovered 50,000 dollars was missing. He was able to trace the missing money to a floor manager in her casino.
Alexis contracted with her investigation agency and evidence revealed that my gangster boyfriend was extorting money from our floor manager who had a dubious past. He was terminated and in exchange for not being prosecuted revealed that James was dating me and and all of the details of the extortion. I was shocked when the hotel casino owner contacted me, a mere showgirl in her hotel, and wanted me to arrange for James and me to come to her pent house suite for drinks after my show that evening. That evening we were introduced to Alexis, Megan, and Jonathan by Carolyn. It was all business and James was confronted with the evidence against him gathered by Alexis’ agency. He realized that with his criminal record and Carolyn’s and Alexis’ connections that most likely he would do prison time. That is when Alexis dropped the bomb that Jonathan had heard before he and Carolyn were married and the petulant professor had heard after stealing a colleague’s research at the University of Colorado. If he agreed to pay back the 50,000 dollars and accept a spanking from Carolyn and a caning from Alexis no charges would be pursued.
James agreed to Alexis’ terms. She pulled a contract from her briefcase that James signed along with a wicked looking Spencer style paddle that made Megan and Jonathan cringe. As I learned later both had been on the receiving end too many times and both hated the experience. James was in tears and I was seeing him in a new light for the first time. He wasn’t the man that I had been so stricken by! Carolyn placed a straight back chair in the middle of the room and sit with the paddle on her lap. James was ordered to her left side where Carolyn unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants to his knees. She raised her short ivory silk skirt above her stocking tops and forced James over her right thigh and clamped her left leg over his legs. Her well toned muscular right arm wrapped around his torso rendering him totally helpless. James was pinned helplessly and Carolyn proved to be an expert spanker paddling up one side and down the other followed by a series of spanks up and down the middle of his now crimson bottom. Next she alternated from cheek to cheek finishing on his upper thighs. Being pinned and helpless over her lap all he could do was plead, cry, and struggle in vain as Carolyn left the imprint of her paddle on his cherry red behind. I realized that I never wanted to see him again. Alexis grabbed James arms as Carolyn released him from her lap and forced him over the back of a lounge chair. Carolyn took James’ wrists and pinned him over the chair where Alexis stair cased his bottom with 12 angry wilts with her cane. Each stripe was about one inch above the next with none crisscrossing the other. The bawling James was shoved out of Carolyn’s suite with his crimson striped bottom before he could pull his pants back up! Alexis’ last words to him were, “You are luck I don’t have a horse whip!”
When the five of us discussed what had just happened I was in tears and shared with them that I never wanted to see James again. During our discussion I learned that both Megan and Jonathan were spanked if they failed to preform their household duties or their significant other believed they needed a maintaince spanking. Although their spankings were not as severe as an the one Carolyn and Alexis gave to James, they both hated being spanked but admitted that a good spanking cleared the air. I explained that I felt terrible about the time I had wasted with James and that allowing the night life I spent partying with him to cause me to drop out of college. Carolyn informed me that she thought that I would benefit from a sound spanking and if I was her daughter she would put me over her knee. At that moment I hugged Carolyn and began crying again as I explained that I never knew my mother. Carolyn was old enough to be my mother and I explained, “I have never been spanked and have no idea how a spanking feels; but, since you think I would benefit from a spanking and both Jonathan and Megan said that a spanking cleared the air I need to be spanked.”
Carolyn agreed but said, “Spankings are suppose to hurt and once I turn you over my knee it will be too late for you to change your mind and you will be a very unhappy little girl long before I’m finished.” She hugged me and added, “I will pay the rest of your way through college but right now we have some business to take care of!” Carolyn sit on the straight backed chair still in the center of the room and smoothed her ivory silk skirt with the Spencer style paddle on her lap. She raised my skirt and put me over her knee. She rubbed my thin nylon white panties and said,” You will be kicking, squirming, and dancing across my lap and that is O.K. I will have no trouble keeping you in place.”
I tried to be stoic as she began paddling my thin nylon panties but was soon crying out and dancing across her lap. Carolyn spanked up one side and down the other and then began alternating from cheek to cheek. Next she paddled the middle of my bottom to the top of my legs. When she finally left me off of her lap I danced around the room. My eyes were teary and puffy and tears were making my mascara run down my face. I was still crying uncontrollable when Carolyn hugged me and Alexis rubbed lotion on my stinging bottom. I didn’t realize how much a sound spanking from a capable woman hurt. As Carolyn had promised I was a well spanked unhappy girl. I understood why Jonathan and Megan hated being spanked. After three years of spanking Jonathan Carolyn had become an expert disciplinarian. I thanked Carolyn for caring enough to discipline me and helping me finish college.
After my spanking Megan went to the kitchen and returned with a cake for Carolyn’s 50th birthday celebration. Alexis removed her suit jacket and sit on the same straight backed chair in the middle of the room and smoothed her skirt. Alexis had paddled Carolyn three years ago and that was the only paddling Carolyn had ever received. Alexis informed Carolyn that she was going to receive a birthday hand spanking over her knee. Jonathan and Megan escorted Carolyn to Alexis’ side where Alexis raised her silk skirt to her waist and lowered her nylon panties to her knees. Everyone was laughing except Alexis who was all business. During her hand spanking over Alexis’ knee she never cried out and meekly submitted but I could tell by the expression on her face and her cherry red bottom outlined by her garter belt and stockings that a hand spanking over Alexis’ knee was a very painful experience.
After Carolyn’s birthday spanking we all enjoyed white wine, cake and many laughs. I was invited to spend the night in Carolyn’s suite. Carolyn was going to pay for my final year of college and promised to fly back to Vegas if I needed help in maintaining my grades or any other goals that I had set for myself. I never knew my mother but I loved Carolyn like the mother I never had.
Tickling Her Fancy
Everyone,
When you’ve spent all your Mad Money on fun/evil spanking toys from Cane-iac.com, but still need a few…ahem…other items, Stockroom is a good place for just about everything BDSM.
Cuffs, restraints, furniture, medical stuff, multitudes of different types of devices of general bodily torture, and lots of other things that possibly neither you nor I are sure quite what to do with…but that’s part of the fun of browsing, isn’t it?
Also, I like the tagline on the link picture:
Readers,
The Sin City Spanks story contest turned out several very good entries, and ‘Burlesque Nightmare’ is an aptly-titled, fun romp. I know you’ll have fun with this one..
– Dana
Burlesque Nightmare
Heels, dance shoes, sequined bra tops and bottoms? Check, check, check, and check. I was looking through my dance bag and made sure I had everything I needed for my audition for the X Burlesque show at the Tropicana. Over the past month I had been auditioning for several of the adult dance shows in Las Vegas. I enjoyed dancing and performing, and needed the money to help pay for school. Dancing topless wasn’t my first choice, but I was struggling financially and was running out of options.
I pulled part of my curly red, shoulder length hair back, and put the finishing touches on my makeup. My brown eyes sparkled. I was excited for today. I certainly had the body and dance training they were looking for.
I grabbed my dance bag and keys, and headed to the car. Once I reached the hotel, I checked in at the audition table, took off my blue tank top and dance shorts, adjusted my pink sequined bra and briefs, and pinned on my number. My outfit was sensual, but not tasteless. I put on my ballet shoes and started stretching. After several minutes all of the dancers lined up and they recorded our height and took our pictures. We then did a basic ballet combination across the stage consisting of two piqué turns, two chainé turns, two assemblés, an arabesque, two more assemblés, and a grand jeté. There was a spotlight on me making it hard to see. Going in a straight line was key, so spotting was important.
After all 60 female dancers had gone, they cut 15 dancers, and I fortunately made the first cut. We then put on our heels and were taught a classical jazz routine performed to very fast music. I danced my best and made it through the next cut. For the final round we grabbed fans and performed a classical burlesque fan dance. There were still 20 dancers remaining and the producers told us they would inform us who had made callbacks within 24 hours. I smiled as I put my dance shorts and tank top on and said goodbye to my friends who were still there. I grabbed my bag and walked slowly back to car. As I left the theater I ran directly into my mother. She was 5’8”, only a little taller than I was, and slim with short black hair and piercing blue eyes. Except for the height and body shape we looked nothing alike.
“Nicole Elizabeth, what are you doing here?” her voice was very low and it was clear she was angry.
Continue reading “Sin City Spanks story entry: ‘Burlesque Nightmare’”
Everyone,
‘Scorched in Sin City’ is another wonderfully imaginative entry to the Sin City Spanks story contest, and I’m sure that you’ll have a great time reading.
– Dana
Scorched in Sin City
As the plane touched down at McCarran International Airport Marie and Bob looked forward to their 4 day getaway in Las Vegas albeit for different reasons. Bob liked to gamble on table games and slots while Marie enjoyed the other amenities the city has to offer like fine dining, shopping, site seeing, and the big name entertainment featured at one of the many shows playing at the various casinos. While waiting at the baggage conveyor belt Marie gently reminded Bob of their last trip to Sin City and firmly but cheerfully told him not to repeat the same mistakes made on their most recent visit. Namely, that Bob lost all his gambling money on the first day and proceeded to lose all the rest of their “fun’ money they planned on using for entertainment etc. for the rest of their trip on the second day! “This trip would be different” Marie stated as she gave Bob an allowance of 500 dollars for each of the (4) days they would be in town for his gambling. She would control all the rest of the cash they brought for her shopping and their mutual entertainment needs. Marie had made Bob promise that he would not exceed his daily budget of $500 and warned him that if he did, the consequences would not be of his liking. Bob was always a little afraid when Marie spoke in that tone of voice and promised to her that he would be more careful with his gambling. He figured she was serious this time as he noticed that while packing for the trip, Marie put her large sturdy wooden hairbrush in her suitcase. He was quite familiar with that hairbrush and it wasn’t for brushing his hair either, since he had very little.
Check in at the Mirage Hotel and Resort was a breeze and soon Bob and Marie happily strolled down the Las Vegas Strip with thoughts of enjoying the activities the city of Las Vegas offers. The strip was buzzing with activity as they passed the different street performers and the many people from all different cultures and walks of life that shared the sidewalk on this hot sultry desert afternoon.
Marie couldn’t help but notice all the metal boxes that dotted the Strip containing the paper magazines and flyers which touted certain events and adult services. She grabbed one from a box and stashed it in her purse thinking she would peruse its pages later that evening. Marie loved the fountains at the Bellagio and she and Bob watched them for what seemed for Bob hours on end! Finally at Bob’s suggestion, they both began walking toward the Luxor Hotel where Bob knew Marie wanted to visit the Titanic Museum that was on display. Bob was itching to get a crack at the gaming tables and this would present a good opportunity for him to do so. Marie could see her museum while he gambled at the tables and made some cash. Or so he hoped.
When they arrived at the Titanic Museum Marie reluctantly agreed to go it alone and let Bob do some gambling during the 90 minutes or so it would take to visit the Museum. She did warn Bob about not going over his allotted budget for gambling. “Yes Dear”, was all he could muster as he hurriedly went off to find the nearest blackjack table. Within minutes Bob was ahead by $300 dollars as he had a quick run of luck. He decided to double and triple his original bets but soon found that no longer was he up $300, but rather down $1000! He began to break out in a cold sweat as he knew he would be grilled by Marie when she would later meet up with him and ask how he was doing? In his desperation Bob could hear in the background the hoots and hollers of the happy players over at the Craps table nearby. “That’s where the action is”! he thought aloud, remembering a few years ago when he actually won a couple thousand dollars shooting craps in one of the downtown casinos. He recalled that Craps is a lightning fast paced game where one can win or lose a fortune in a matter of minutes. Since Marie would be exiting the Titanic Museum at any moment Bob thought his best chance to get the money he lost at blackjack was at this crowded Craps table where by the sound of it, players were making all kinds of money! “Change for $1,000” the dealer shouted as he handed Bob his buy in chips. Bob quickly made (2) $100 dollar bets placing the 6 & 8. The shooter rolled an 8! Bob just won $110! This was easy he thought. He then doubled up his original bets. The shooter then rolled a 7. “Seven out” the dealer proclaimed and collected all the losing wagers including Bob’s. He was now out $300 plus the $1,000 lost at blackjack. He had $700 remaining in his total budget and he could see from the corner of his eye Marie Making her way across the casino floor towards him. He needed a big score on the next 2 rolls of the dice if he wanted to break even and more importantly, not break his promise to Marie. Bob was handed the dice and he placed all his remaining money on the chance that he could make his point. He rolled a 10. He backed up his frontline bet with odds so that if he rolled another 10 he would get almost all his money back. With confident voice Bob commanded the dice to come up with the combination of 10. He rolled a 7! “Seven out!” exclaimed the dealer and took all of Bob’s wagers. Bob realized he was now out of the game with no money left and felt dejected. Right at that moment Marie tapped him on the shoulder and inquired ”how you doing”? By the look on his face she already knew.
Continue reading “Scorched in Sin City : An original spanking story entry”
Readers,
Here’s a great entry to the Sin City Spanks story contest : “Chapter Twelve” by miss Randy Lee. Enjoy!
– Dana
CHAPTER TWELVE
by Randy Lee
It was seven o’clock in the evening. The bright desert sun was still showing plenty of strength on this May evening. The congenial group of four women strolled down the sidewalk of the Las Vegas Strip leaning close to whisper humorous snippets in each other’s ears. Their laughs and giggles blended into the conversations and loud laughter of other groups on the sidewalk. Dotty, Hope, Lynette, and Pam had just graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in their home state of Texas and had come to Las Vegas to celebrate. Having spent four years preparing to take their places in society, focusing on different subjects before concentrating their efforts in their various major fields of study, it was agreed that this was a time for letting their collective hair down, figuratively speaking. Since their high school days, each girl’s educational pursuit had demanded a regimented life both inside and outside her classrooms. Now that their respective scholastic goals had been achieved, they were here to paint the town red! Hope began moving a little ahead of the others and approached the door of a Las Vegas business establishment. On it were the letters SPA in elaborate script style.
She turned to her friends, regarded them with a wide grin, and gestured toward the door. “This is it, girls,” she announced.
The other three women froze in their tracks, their faces showing disbelief. “Wait just a dadgum minute,” Lynette protested. “We’re supposed to be going to a casino. You know, as in gambling? We can go to a spa back home anytime we want, without shelling out all those bucks for airfare.”
“Okay, calm down, Lyn. This is a casino, I promise,” Hope assured her.
“So you’ve been here before?” Pam asked.
“Twice,” Hope confirmed. “My ex-boyfriend brought me here near the end of our junior year, and I came back last Christmas vacation to do some exploring by myself. I had a blast! I’ll bet y’all are gonna love it.”
“Oh, yeah?” This from Pam. “Whatta you bet?”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Hope replied, a hint of mystery in her voice.
“Hmmh!” Pam grunted skeptically.
Dotty, the quiet member of the group, and Lynette were unmoved—literally—from their positions alongside Pam.
Hope decided some coaxing was in order. “Awww, c’mon, y’all! What’s life without a little suspense and drama?”
“Oh, all right,” Pam conceded. She turned to her skeptical buddies and suggested, “Let’s go see what this ‘spa’ is all about.”
Hope pulled the door open and held it for the other three. They trooped in for a distance of about five feet and again were brought up short. Hope watched the three newcomers take in the room’s beautiful decor. There was furniture of rich, dark hardwood and upholstery in equally rich red and gold velvet and brocade. Satin treatments adorned mock windows. No source of water was evident, and no scent of either chlorine or massage oil rankled the nose. No people were evident, either. Not another soul occupied the exquisitely appointed room.
Dotty murmured, “This isn’t like any spa I ever saw before.”
Lynette echoed her observation and added, “Or casino, either.”
“It’s different, I’ll admit,” Hope acknowledged. “Well, come along. Let’s get this party started. I’ll show you the fun room where the gambling happens.”
She led her companions in the direction of a door which bore the letters NKO. As they approached, the sound of a ball hopping on a spinning roulette wheel could be heard. There was also the distinct click of a cue ball striking racked balls on a pool table. Hope pressed a button on the wall beside the door. The four women heard no sound, but a voice from a speaker above them said, “Identify.”
Hope spoke plainly, “Hope M. 7239.”
“Enter,” the voice said. A buzzer sounded, and Hope pushed the door open. A tall man wearing a red polo shirt tucked into black trousers stood guard at the door. He motioned the women to come in, glanced quickly beyond them in all directions, and closed the door. He gestured to an electronic scanner next to him and ordered, “Handprint.” Hope laid her right hand flat on the glass surface of the machine and held still. A light moved back and forth under the glass twice and then went out. A beep sounded, and the man said, “Okay.” Hope looked at him. He nodded, she removed her hand, and he indicated with a slight movement of his head that the four could move about the room freely.
As they walked farther into the room, Pam noted sarcastically, “That guy’s a real chatterbox.”
I couldn’t think of a witty intro here, but want to share with you some of my favorite Cane-iac items, most of which are beloved to me for their specific usefulness and ability to withstand more punishment than the butts they strike. Folks ask often which types of implements are good for different things, and, while this isn’t meant to be a comprehensive list, I think that each of these items has a place in one’s spanking arsenal.
So, here are ten things I love about Cane-iac, in no particular order and not including the fact that they, in general, rock.
– Dana
1. Exotic Mighty Might – serious bang. I call mine (in Wenge wood) ‘Angry Cricket’. This is a great paddle for even the tiniest of butts, and packs a serious local wallop no matter whose bottom it hits.
2. Love Me Strap – delivers as named, ‘love taps’. This sweet, unsevere strap is excellent for OTK and standing strapping and gives a good sting without hiding your bottom.
3. Curse of Dana Wallop – run for your life. Cane-iac’s rubber implements are notoriously evil, and this angry little square of rubber sitting at the end of two delrin stems is no exception. Great bounce-action for uninitiated or lazy spankers!
4. School House Cane – sort of the epitome of strict school disicpline, the 32″ Senior version of this traditional, crooked-handle cane is enough to bring any classroom to attention. The crook in the handle makes the cane easier to hold and direct, in my opinion.
5. Dana’s Inferno – spencer-style pain-maker. It’s two-sided, walnut and maple, with eleven terrible holes for maximum impact; although this paddle has moved many bottoms to near-tears, I’ve yet to come near breaking it.
6. Delrin Rug Beater – for punishment. Seriously. Usually, I only bring out this piece if I’m dealing either with serious infractions or a seriously tough bottom. Not for the faint of heart, or most other hearts, for that matter.
7. Russet 3 Tail Tawse – excellent all ’round leather implement. This is Cane-iac at their best – a traditional tawse with a Cane-iac twist; this is one of my most oft-used items, as it’s easy to adjust the impact force by adjusting one’s swing.
8. Red Acrylic Paddle – red means stop. I like this paddle visually, as it’s an intimidating bright red, shiny sheet of acrylic that looks like it could (and, indeed, can) turn your bottom an equally terrible shade.
9. Marwood Paddle – strict Miss Marwood’s Cane-iac paddle namesake is the same size as Dana’s Inferno, but a stingy 1/4″ thick, making it an incredibly stingy lesson learned.
10. Naughty Stick with Holes – bruiser. This one goes down in history as having been the first implement which My Bottom’s Bottom vetoed from further future use.
Bring Me Daddy’s Belt
The preview video:
..kindly broken into two pieces so it’s no so damn painfully long all at once.
Dana Kane Video Q and A First half of part two (These are quicktime files. If you can’t play Quicktime I cannot help you.)
Dana Kane Video Q and A 2 The end. Finally. Whew!
Live Session Video: Sentenced to Discipline
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.
Jealousy
Preview Video:
(POV) Barracuda : The Interview
NEW DVDs!
Marital Discipline III
(Eight Canes, Foreplay, Caught Masturbating Again, You Asked for It, Bruised for Brownies, and Water War! Runtime approx. 63 minutes.)
Brand New Ass
(BNA: Red (2 Scenes), BNA: Lacey (2 scenes), BNA: Agatha (2 scenes), 60+ minutes.)
(*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
Readers,
I’ve taken a fair few vacations, and they’ve all been nice enough – the Smoky Mountains are gorgeous in the fall when leaves change colors, and there’s a cool/funky nude river-beach just outside Portland where I once spent the day. Sitting on a big deck on the back end of a ship in the middle of big water is pretty damn amazing, too. There has never been a time when I’ve been ‘away’ that I’ve not been happy about that away-ness in some way, and I knew that this vacation would be just the same.
Away-ness makes me breathe more deeply for some reason, and I become adventurous, something which I don’t consider myself to be nearly enough in everyday life (although you may disagree). There’s something about getting out of one’s comfort zone and taking chances – even if, for me, taking chances means swimming underwater and drinking alcoholic beverages at lunch – that makes us feel that much more alive.
This past week I was Super Alive.
A week in small-town-anywhere will likely force a busy person to take things more slowly, but this small town is something special. We spent a week eating, strolling, swimming, and napping, surrounded by the gorgeous Caribbean, lush mangrove jungles, and one of the most spectacular places on the planet – the Great Barrier Reef.
Instead of doing the typical tourist thing, we decided to hop off the beaten path just a bit and ended up having quite possibly the best time of our lives. We rented a private home for the week, and I should say right at the outset that this place was Obnoxiously Fabulous – two full floors of indoor living area topped by a 3rd floor outdoor patio, pool, and party area, with a 4th floor rooftop observation deck. I should also say right at the outset that this was, by far, the least expensive vacation rental I’ve ever taken.
I could type for a very long time about the variety of birds seen and heard from this deck, but you’d have to see it for yourself. Also, the neighbors had chickens, roosters, and at least one turkey, so the usual sound of traffic, ambulances, and other noise pollution were replaced by a definite organic, winged cacophony that didn’t let up even at night.
Nighttime also brought out the geckos, gigantic prisma-color moths, and goodness knows what else scurrying around out in the mangrove directly – and I mean directly as in right up against the home’s perimeter wall – behind us.
Can I tell you how wonderful and wild and perfect this place is? There’s a crazy mix of very old, small, rickety homesteads, built-up homes like the one I rented, and cool little Mexican hotels – no huge resorts in the town proper and no way to insulate oneself from the local culture…exactly what I wanted.
One morning this happened:
And all was right with the world.
And then that evening, this happened:
Feel that?
Now let’s move on to one of the main reasons I almost always choose Mexico: the food. I believe (and I know that Anthony Bourdain would disagree and I vehemently do NOT care) that Latin America turns out the most consistently delicious food on the planet. In my opinion, as many of you already know, there are few foods more perfect than the taco. A simple corn tortilla rolled around nearly anything – how could you possibly go wrong? There is no lime shortage in Mexico, either, and I didn’t see a single bruised, black, shriveled avocado the entire time. Things are Lush and Fat in the Yucatan, and the food reflects the bounty of all that humidity.
I ate the hands-down-best-ever-on-the-planet shrimp cocktail – twice, actually – and likely downed more guacamole than anyone should rightfully admit; there were organic eggs for breakfast and mangoes so ripe and sweet that you could smell ’em right through the skin. And the habañeros? Ohholyhell…
There are no photos of the food. This should give you some indication of just how little time it spent sitting in front of me.
Oh, and cocktails. I should probably mention the cocktails. Since I don’t usually drink at all, any beverage stronger than fresh, sweet iced tea is likely going to make me a little wonky; I was wonky a fair few times last week.
It’s the Mojitos, you see, and the sun, and the sea – they conspire together to make you believe that nothing would taste better at this very moment than some really strong rum, watered down a teeny bit with a few drops of water and a couple bruised mint leaves. Do not be fooled by the steaming coolness rising from that tall glass, my friend. It is a ruse to lure in the unwary drinker and make her need a nap at 2pm. I believe I had a total of about ten alcoholic beverages during the course of the week, which should cover my quota well into 2017.
When you order your Mojito on the beach and drink it while smoking a cigar, the nice man brings you an ashtray that he just carved out of a green coconut:
I loved that man.
Hell, I loved everyone I met. Totally enamored with Latin culture, language, and people, I always feel pretty damn at home here, even though my understanding of the language is woefully inadequate (something which I plan to change immediately). We met several folks who live and work in the fishing village who are what one would call the Salt of the Earth, including one cool cat tour guide who seemed to know everyone and everything going on at any given moment. He even helped me find those cigars.
Speaking of those cigars: One needs certain things no matter where one is, but those essentials change depending on the surroundings. I’ve found it to be true that anytime I’m in the Caribbean, I need Cuban cigars. This is likely a reaction to a decades-long embargo in the U.S. which causes me to have the ‘want what I can’t have’ response, so every time I’m there I buy and smoke with abandon.
Also coffee:
Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the Sea..
That’s the reason for every single decision I make in terms of vacation travel – if there’s no beach involved, I’m likely highly uninterested. I know, I know, there are gorgeous places all over the world; ancient civilizations and art and culture and food and terrain that I’ve never experienced which could and likely would surely outdo my beloved Mexican Caribbean in a way or two. Again, I do not care. I am willfully and endlessly small-minded in this area.
Because I spent a large amount of my early life hanging out at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico and various rivers, ponds, sandpits, and the like, I’m obsessively attracted to water. I can sit, clear-headed, for hours, staring at the line where the water meets the sky, not a care in the world. Add in the fact that at NO time during my life did I ever experience water clean enough for one to actually see one’s feet when standing at ankle-depth, and you have a perfect storm of beach-bum-itis. And baby, I got it bad.
This time I did something that I thought I’d never do – I went underwater. Pretty far underwater, too. About 20 feet, which to me seems like a really long way down when there aren’t gills involved.
Also sharks.
But I did it. Snuba. Like a cross between snorkel and scuba, these two nice boys hook you up to a really long air hose that’s attached to your very own floaty thing; they give you some flipper thingies for your feet (try to keep up, I know this is getting technical..) and teach you how to do the air-breathing without drowning, which is vitally important. They also teach you hand signals to be used underwater, since you can’t talk through your air-breathing thingy (although I did yell ‘shit’ when I saw a large barracuda, all that came out was “bubblebubblebubble”). This was a super exciting little excursion and I got to see lots of really beautiful coral, a teeny bright-red ray, lobsters, aforementioned barracuda, and even an undersea cenote (google it). When it was done, however, I immediately remembered that I am 41 and don’t swim in the ocean often (see Las Vegas on the map?) – because my entire body decided to basically shut down on the walk back to the rental house, where I napped the nap of the partially-dead-by-snuba.
That was okay, too, though, because it was the perfect excuse to go back for a second massage..
I’d like to say, here and now, that it’s likely I will live in Latin America sometime during the course of my life.
This is why:
There is absolutely nothing you can say to top that, mi amigo. Don’t even try.
Here are a few random post- spanking photos from recent playtimes:
Readers,
I want to give you a short background on this video:
It’s real. Cheekie is real. The story we tell is real, and so is the trouble she could be in right now, had I not given her the opportunity to redeem herself and she not taken it.
Cheekie agreed to receive her punishment on video, and to admit to her wrongdoing. Not everyone would be as brave (or silly?), but I’m giving her credit for taking responsibility..and a very hard spanking.
The two of us had a VERY long talk, and I’ve edited it down to what I hope is a manageable size without taking out any of the spanking or pertinent details (it’s still long, at nearly 18minutes). She had some very misinformed ideas about the spanking video business – and about the business of content sharing, and thoughtlessly went about her illegal activities for quite some time before I caught her in the act.
I gave Cheekie no other option to deal with this situation – I told her that the ONLY way to redeem herself with me was to put her butt on a plane to Las Vegas and accept whatever I had to offer. I didn’t threaten her with legal action or ‘outing’, as she’d by then figured out for herself how easily she could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. She immediately agreed (somewhat to my surprise, until I realized that this sweet girl is still too young and inexperienced to realize exactly the gravity of the situation), and by the time we met, we’d agreed that if she was willing to accept the punishment (and lots and lots of verbal shaming from me, of course), that I’d be willing to forgive her past actions.
I’m still not certain whether Cheekie has learned the FULL lesson here, which is – essentially – that rote ‘do unto others’ thing that we’ve always known to be the best policy. What I am absolutely certain of is that she will think long and hard before illegally sharing content again. Or she’ll get better at hiding it when she does. The odds are slightly in her favor, and let’s hope that she makes the right choice.
I guess the point of all this is to remind myself that not everyone who appears to be a ‘bad person’ really is, and that, if given the opportunity, most folks will choose to Play Nice. I’m happy that Cheekie did, and that I did, too. Sort of.
I’m also hopeful that others who take part in illegal file sharing will put aside the thrill, the ego, and the feeling of invincibility afforded them by their VPNs and onions to think just a bit about the fact that those of us who produce spanking videos do so because we LOVE spanking, not because we’re getting filthy rich in the process. And please be considerate of the literal blood, sweat, and tears which the spankees endure every time, for your enjoyment. I don’t wish bad things on you, but I do hope for your consideration.
– Dana
Oh – I should also mention that miss Cheekie and I are now going to be friends – she’s going to be a Good Girl from here on out, and I’m going to help her start a blogsite where she can share her love of all things spanking without getting herself into more trouble.
Here’s ‘Cheekie Pays Her Dues’ :
free spanking video
Training the New Librarian
Here’s another installment of Tips for Tops! In this episode, we are discussing the Art of Negotiation, and it’s importance in spanking/discipline play. We’ll demonstrate negotiation by using The Strap (one of my bottom’s most feared implements), and show how everyone can be happy in the end….ahem, well, most everyone, anyway.
– Dana
Weekly Accountability Report
Here’s a fun free video which Angel and I shot during her last visit…
Angel asked me to spank her as hard as I could, with just my hand. While the spanking’s not extremely long – and I’m now convinced that I could’ve done better (TypeASpanko?) – it’s still pretty darn hard.
Enjoy!
PS. This video originally posted on Angel’s blog, AngelSpanked.com, and you can read her assessment of the scene there.
PHOTOSET : SHBs Motivational Discipline
Fiona’s Lost Bet
Virtual Spanking : Johnny’s Haircut
