Ms. Dana Kane – Professional Disciplinarian
"Hold still long enough and I'll spank you, too."
The wonderfully talented Red Rump has been kind enough to gift me with this exclusive image to adorn the walls of my new playspace – just in time for my birthday! – and I couldn’t help but share it here, too (with his permission, naturally).
I am completely enamored of the somehow innocent-looking danger that this woman imposes.
Thank you, RR, she is going to look smashing just above my basket of canes!
– Dana
The Very Bad Boy will submit his Prepunishment Journal entries for the next few weeks, until the time of our meeting to discuss his recent misbehavior with his Wonderful Wife. Again he has kindly offered (with her consent, naturally) to share his journals and thoughts with readers. I am grateful for their candor and willingness to offer their example to others with like minds.
– Dana
In his words:
For those of us who have chosen a DD lifestyle the purpose of giving or receiving a Spanking is for discipline and the correcting of undesirable behavior. While Some couples who live in a DD relationship may enjoy integrating some
Spanking play into their foreplay and may even participate in role play. The primary purpose of a Spanking is for discipline and correction. Thus, the goal of a DD Spanking is to inflict as much pain as necessary in order to produce a change in behavior and or attitude. The experience is often not enjoyable for the HoH and defiantly not enjoyable for the one who is taken in hand, but it is often necessary for the continuation of harmony within the relationship. The advantage of living in a DD relationship is once a transgression is acknowledged and punishment is given and received; the transgression is forgotten and the relationship is able to return to normal.
In about 24 days I will have atoned for my indiscretion, forgiveness will be granted and restoration will take place. However, before that takes place, I must face two tremendously capable dominate disciplinarians. Who are united in their effort to impress upon me the unacceptability of my behavior and to unmistakably drive home the understanding that they will not tolerate any more of my sneaky and dishonest behavior. I have not seen in my wife the level of determination which I see in her now. There is no doubt in my mind that she is completely committed to ensuring this is the last time I engage in sneaky and dishonest behavior. This same determination is clearly echoed by Ms. Kane in her correspondences. I imagine this determination to rid me of this sneaky and dishonest behavior will only increase as they continue to discuss and plan my disciplinary session. I truthfully do not look forward to kneeling before the two of them and having to give an
honest accounting of my behavior. The menacing tone of the room will only add to the inevitable sense of doom which I will feel as I await the pronouncement of my punishment. There will be no laughing or joking this time around. The jovial spirit which has come to define our previous two sessions will be replaced with a solemn and unwavering determination to make certain I do not engage in such sneaky and dishonest behavior again. I only wish I had thought about this before I decided to engage in my sneaky and dishonest behavior. I really wish I had stopped to think through the consequence the second time I chose to repeat my behavior. However, I chose to ignore the possible ramifications of my behavior and gambled on the fact that she would not find out. Well now I am waiting for another disciplinary session with Ms. Kane, but this time around my wife will be joining in. I guess I really came up as the loser on this one. But that is why I do not play
poker because I am too easy to read and I am a terrible bluffer.
Readers,
Here is a quick new question/answer survey – please take a minute to include your thoughts, anonymously of course, and I will share the results of the survey in an upcoming post.
– Dana
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Readers,
While we will eventually cover all sorts of fun and light-hearted spanko themes, I would like to follow ‘Chapter One: Isolation’ with another somewhat serious subject that’s come up time and again. Just today, I heard yet another story about an unfortunately common theme…
Chapter Two: The Bad Scene
What interests me is not that they occur; not every coming-together-of-spankos is guaranteed to be spectacular. The matter for discussion, or explanation, is this:
Why would one allow a bad spanking to continue?
I have seen good, honest, loving people throw a hissy fit in the middle of an upscale restaurant over a side dish mix-up. I have seen placid, vegan hippies yell themselves hoarse in the checkout line over discrepancies of less than a dollar. I’ve also witnessed the demise of life-long friendships over the failure to return a telephone call.
We are all so very willing to defend ourselves against any perceived insult, aren’t we?
Maybe not. Not when it comes to spanking. I have yet to hear someone end a Bad Scene story by saying “And I got up, right in the middle of it, and walked right out of there.”
What I HAVE heard:
“Well, I was there…and I really wanted to give/get a spanking.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her/his feelings.”
“I thought maybe it would get better after a while.”
“I didn’t want to look like a pus*y.”
“I was so shocked that I didn’t know what do do or say.”
Help me out here. I want to understand why we tolerate over-compensating tops, bossy bottoms, pushy party players, body odor, terrible chemistry, and spankings bordering-on-assault-and-battery?
Why not get up, right in the middle of it, and walk right out of there?
– Dana
Since my birthday is in October, I thought that it would be fun to conduct a writing contest with the theme ‘My Birthday Spanking’. Your entry may be a true story or a work of fiction, and as always, the winner will receive a free spanking session with me.
A few guidelines:
– All characters must be of legal age (18+), and references to childhood (under 18) spankings kept to a minimum, please.
– Refrain from overtly sexual situations and language. (If you feel as though the artistic merit of your piece would be lowered by leaving out the saucy language, imagine how it’ll look after I and my asterisks have had our way with it. Save us both some trouble, and save the sextalk for the Penthouse Forum.)
– Your birthday spanking story (self-titling is encouraged) may consist of as many or as few characters as you see fit (and does not have to include me, by the way), and may take place in any time, place, or manner you choose. Tell about your best, worst, longest, funniest, or most romantic birthday spanking – use your imagination!
(There is also no restriction on gender for these contests, or the characters in your entries. Most of my contest submissions are F/M spanking stories, but M/F, F/F, and M/M are equally encouraged and enjoyed.)
– Please use pseudonyms for yourself and any other real-life people you may include in your story.
– The contest will be open to all entrants throughout the month of October, 2011. All accepted entries will be posted/excerpted publicly – your submission is your agreement to share the story, here and on other publishing platforms.
– The winner will be chosen by me, subjectively and arbitrarily, and at my sole discretion. The ‘prize’ may be collected in any of the cities in which I have planned upcoming travel, as well as my new home city of Las Vegas.
– If you are unable to ‘collect’ the prize due to location or other circumstance, but would still like to enter your story, please do submit your entry as a ‘non-contestant’.
For more details, and to submit your entry, email:
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
Readers,
As you know, I’ve moved into my new home in Las Vegas, and am having a great time making myself comfy in the new space. Except that it’s three times the size of my little Hollywood hideaway…a high-quality problem, no doubt.
And did I mention that I am turning thirty-nine this month (October)? This is also, in my opinion, a high-quality problem.
In honor of these two semi-monumental occasions, I am throwing open the doors on my Amazon.com wishlist. Those of you with an abundance of cash to which you have no emotional attachments are encouraged to participate freely.
If you’re more interested in wardrobe than decor, and would love to buy a near-stranger (that would be me…size 8) some hot, red pumps (or slippers…), click HERE.
If you’re a traditionalist, you’ve come to the right place: send flowers HERE.
I have such great conversations with my fellow spankos and playmates; sometimes we are discussing our differences, but most often it is our commonalities which receive the most attention. It seems as though certain themes (the ‘spanko commons’, I guess you could call them) come up time and time again..
I’d like to take the opportunity to discuss some of these common themes here, and sort of continue the dialogues which I have enjoyed so much with like-minded friends. While I’ll never divulge personal information, obviously, many of you will still certainly recognize these conversations as similar to those you’ve had yourselves.
It seems like a lot to digest all at once, and these talks, themes, and ideas come up so randomly sometimes, that I think it will be fun to write about them a little at a time. Of course, since the title is ‘Conversations with Spankos’, I will encourage readers to share their opinions, experiences, and thoughts – the idea (as is nearly always the case with this blog) is to better know and understand myself and my fellow spanking enthusiasts.
Chapter One: Isolation
Today, one of my new playmates asked me to thank Erica Scott for writing her book, ‘Late Bloomer’. He said that he read it “cover to cover” and felt as though there were many times that she could just as easily have been telling his story, too.
This is such a common thread for us, isn’t it? How many of us spent years wondering why and where and when the spanking urges came..and what the hell to do about them? Before the age of the internet, there was simply too much distance between closed doors. People don’t tell their neighbors about their fetish, and they certainly don’t tell their families or closest friends. So, until the near-anonymity of the internet made us able to reach halfway across the world and touch someone in cyberspace, there really was very little alternative for most of us. Isolation was part and parcel for most.
(I should say here that a great deal of credit for bringing spankos out of the dark before the true internet age must be given to the good people behind Shadow Lane. I cannot tell you how many of my correspondents have named Tony, Eve, and Shadow Lane’s newsletter -delivered by the good, old U.S. Postal Service!- as their saving grace, proof that they were neither aberrant nor alone.)
Many fetishists spend large parts of their adult lives unpartnered – simply because they are unable to find and fall mutually in love with someone who shares or empathizes with their interests. Many others enter into long-term, otherwise loving relationships with partners who neither share nor empathize – and must learn to somehow hide or avoid their urges (as one friend recently said “…because it doesn’t ever go away.”). And then there are the lucky few who have either a fellow spanko as their life partner, or someone who loves and understands them enough to make allowances.
We do not fit neatly into most common relationship structures, especially in love. As difficult as love is for ‘vanilla’ folk…what does that mean for us? Is isolation as common among spankos as it seems?
– Dana
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
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“I have disappointed my wife and Ms. Kane. I know that punishment is necessary. I deserve this.” To his credit, they arrived quite promptly, within twenty-four hours… |
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| “100 for Ms. Kane”
..along with the extra 100 lines that his Wife added after he told her about his assignment. Genius. |
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| 100 for the WW
– Dana |
Underlings Humblings
Underling writes saucy stories to go along with his often-animated digital art. Underling uses different genres and styles to achieve some really exceptional artwork, and the stories are always detailed and articulate.
Banjo’s BBS
Apparently, Banjo is back. Being somewhat new to the spanking blogosphere, I wasn’t aware that he’d gone – but after taking a look at his artwork, I’m as happy as everyone else to see his return to F/M spanking art. If you are unfamiliar with Banjo as I was, do yourself a favor and take a look around the blog – his artwork is really fantastic.
(Thanks to all the other bloggers who made me aware of Banjo and his blogsite – you all are a veritable font of spanking knowledge!)
Poser CP Art
I’ve written about Poser and his art before, but it’s never too soon to revisit his excellent spanking art blog. F/M, M/F, and F/F content – and some really impressive graphic novels.
When trying to think of something tangible to demonstrate the basic concept of trust here, I naturally thought of something that we’ve probably all seen, at least on television..
One person allows him or herself to fall backward from some height, trusting that the people standing behind will catch them, like so:
(Be sure to click ‘Read More’ at the bottom of the visible text, to display the full story.)
I had fun, fun, FUN filming this little tongue-in-cheek Product Testing spoof!
So much fun, in fact, that it’ll become a regular part of my blog. I think this is a great way to showcase some of my favorite spanking implements (and to be extremely silly on camera).
The video will be up soon.~
– Dana
Readers,
Here is one more excellent submission to the Story of US writing contest. This untitled work of fiction was submitted by one of my email correspondents, and he’s put himself in quite a perilous position – with nearly twenty angry women settling the score for his extensive past disrespect. Read about this cad getting his comeuppance…and enjoy!
(The asterisks are my edits, as always – and, make sure to click ‘Read More’ at the bottom of the visible text, to reveal the full story.)
– Dana
I didn’t know of Dana Kane, but some of my workmates had heard of her. I had long been known as a fliratious sort of man, the type who pinched women during 10 Kilometer road races, and slapped their bottoms at work.
Somehow I had avoided any negative feedback from the women because we had worked together for years, and I didn’t follow up with any systematic harassment.
But many of the women harbored deep resentment against me, as I was half aware!
One of my friends at work was particularly distressed because I had openly flirted at a party with one of her old friends. Unknown to me, she had a very jealous boy friend…who beat her when he heard about our flirtation, or, rather, my having lifted her dress at the party, laughing at her discomfiture.
He assumed only an ‘intimate’ would have done that. She tearfully tried to explain, but he silenced her with a slap to the face that left bruises.
So, unknown to me, several of the women contacted Dana Kane and arranged for a ‘session’ for me.
One day after work, my officemate, Kathy, smilingly asked me for coffee. A pretty woman often in tight dresses, she had asked me for coffee previously. She was risking a pinching as she knew…
She winked at me over her shoulder when she went into the elevator ahead of me, and deliberately bent over, the cloth of her dress tighetening over her small but well shaped hips.
“Go ahead, Mark,” she said, “Just once more..”
I obligingly swattted her across her rear, with a sharp blow she hadn’t expected that bunched the cloth over her behind.
“OWWW..” she exclaimed, “OWWW..” Her eyes flashed in hatred and anger: “You’ll be sorry for that, Mark, and very soon.”
When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, we stolled to the cafe and met a pert, pretty woman in a short miniskirt, showing off her fine legs, at a table in the cafe. She smiled disarmingly: “My name is Dana. How are you, Mark? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Yes, I’m sure,”, I laughed. “All bad, no doubt.”
Nex to her with coffee and tea were was my former co-worker Lana and Felicia, one of the prettiest women working there, in a long dress that I remembered from another incident over a year ago…
” Well, let’s see.” She pulled out some typewritten sheets of paper. “August 2010…slapped the waitress at the coffee bar, the daughter of the owner. September 2010: Pinched a woman while jogging around the lake. Identity of woman unknown. Oct. 2010: Turned the yoga teacher over the table in the gym and slapped her several times. Reported to the gym, you were suspedned two weeks from membership. Jan. 2011: You asked out one of the lesbians at your work, knowing it just embarrassed her in front of everyone.
Feb. 2011: You put a tack on the chair of the Vice President…no one knew who did that, but everyone heard her shriek. May 2011: You slapped the bottom of two of Anne’s friends, Anne being your best friend here where you work One of them left in tears…you laughed at Anne when she told you..’
Dana looked up and rattled the pages in her hand. She removed her glasses that gave her a professorial air, and said, ‘Should I go on?”
“No,” I stammered, taken aback at her confident, quiet authority. I had no idea who she was, but I could tell she was not a co-worker!
“After we finish our coffee”, continued Dana with the same friendly but ominous tone, ‘we’re going to go back upstairs and I’m going to spank you.”
She smiled at me warmly, waiting for the shock to wear off!
“But..” I said..She cut me off: “Finish your coffee and enjoy sitting down. You won’t be sitting down again for a LONG time.”
GULP..somehow I knew there was no arguing with this woman. There was a lot of giggling from Felicia, Lana, and also from the owner of the cafe, Gretel, who strolled over suddenly. It was Gretel’s daughter Felly that I had pinched,as cited by Dana.
“Funny how he suddenly has no smart remarks to make…’, said Kathy. “He just swatted me in the elevator. It still hurts!’
“Let’s go,’ chorused the women, rising from their tables. ‘I’ll be up when the cafe closes,” said Gretel. I stood up, not knowing I wouldn’t be sitting again for nearly a week!
Dana and Kathy led the way into the elevator.
I am happy to boast that I won the recent Leather Thorn paddle naming contest. The ‘No-Holes-Barred’ was waiting for me when I arrived home to Las Vegas last evening, and I am beyond pleased. This paddle is TOUGH! John, owner and artisan at LT, handcrafts these amazingly beautiful (and effective) paddles in Princeton, Kentucky, and each one is a work of art. My Leather Thorn paddle collection will likely be massive by the time I’m done…and I’ll be making a nice little video with the ‘No-Holes-Barred’ Paddle soon.
Take a look around Angie’s Erotic Pen, ‘Writing for the erotic mind’. With lots of erotic fiction (hundreds of stories, in several different categories), chat, and even photos and video, there is enough content here for even the most voracious reader of adult content.
As I mentioned in a previous post, one of my UK correspondents’ new blog – Disciplined Behaviour – is off to an excellent start, and Michael’s been kind enough to mention me in a recent post, HERE.
Thank you, Michael, and good luck!
Here is a fun song by a group called The Turbomen, sent to me by one of my playmates (thanks, Corporal!). It’s some sort of euro-pop or neo-punk or whatever you’d like to call it, but the lyrics are sexy and fun.
Enjoy. – Dana
*****
Readers,
I would appreciate your opinions on a subject that comes up from time to time, usually referred to as ‘distance training’.
Occasionally, I receive a request for distance training -what I call guided self-discipline, and am always happy to consider. However, to date not a single prospective correspondent has shown the application, attention to detail, or mental fortitude necessary to carry out ‘distance training’ as I define it. I am certain that these people do exist – these people who, through a lot of personal strength and support, can maintain a guided self-discipline program – or do they?
Is guided self-discipline in itself an oxymoron?
Let’s look at some other, more commonly-used ideas associated with ‘guided self discipline’:
Self-help books, and tapes, and books-on-tape, and meetings, and retreats, and gurus;
special diets, special exercises, special clothing for the exercises, and especially expensive price-tags on all of it;
yoga, meditation, motivation.
All of the above ‘proven’ to work, I might add (except maybe the price-tags).
How does self-discipline work for you? And, do you believe yourself (or others) capable of maintaining or improving yours through guided disciplinary behavior counseling (including spanking-related self-discipline and other activities)? Does this seem like a viable way of maintaining ones’ self-discipline, or just another type of role-play for spankos?
As always, please leave your comments/opinions in the comment area below, so that others may benefit from your wisdom. (For those of you who cannot seem to comment on my blog – a problem which persists no matter what I do – feel free to email me your comments and I will post them in, on request.)
– Dana
One of my wonderful U.K. correspondents, and author of ‘The Rescue of a Roman Honeymoon’ and ‘Visiting Dana’ – Michael – has started a new blog titled Disciplined Behaviour. While brand new, I am confident that this blog will become an excellent one, as Michael’s f/m spanking stories have been among the best I’ve received. A recent post, ‘I get into spanking’ discusses the origins of the kink for my U.K. friend, and will ring true with many of you readers, as well. He’s also lucky enough to find himself in a happy FLDD relationship, and I am hoping that much insight on that subject will be available.
Check back often, as we’re guaranteed some more really great spanking content from disciplinedbehaviour.blogspot.com.
– Dana
Readers,
‘Sitting on a Pillow’ is a lovely story, submitted to the ‘Story of US’ writing contest, by one of my regular correspondents. I do hope that you enjoy it as much as I have. (The asterisks are my edits, for slightly saucy language.) – Dana
Be sure to click on the ‘Read More’ link at the bottom of the visible text, to read the entire post.
Sitting on a Pillow
So here I sit on a Pillow with a very sore bottom, how did this happen? Well it all started a few days ago. My wife took our son out of town to check out a college in another state and I decided it would be the right time to visit Dana for the first time. I was so excited to meet her knowing that soon after our meeting my bottom would be getting spanked. I had tried to tell myself I didn’t need to be spanked by Dana but I kept loosing that argument with myself and now the day had come and I would soon get the spanking I knew I needed.
As soon as my wife and son drove away I headed for the bathroom to shower and shave all my *** and my legs, I wanted to be clean and smooth when I put on my wife’s prettiest panties and stockings, garter and the sports bra. The bra I had purchased for myself and was that ever embarrassing I just knew the woman didn’t believe my story that I was buying it for my wife. When I had seen the pictures of the guy Dana spanked in her lingerie I felt I had to do the same but instead of stealing Dana’s undies I’d steal my wife’s. So I went through my wife’s panty drawer and found a new pair that was so sexy I just had to put them on. ***. I slipped on a garter belt and red stockings, my bra and I was ready. I wanted to wear nothing more than this for the drive to her place but decided I better not so in jeans and a tee shirt I headed off to get my naughty bottom spanked just like when ***
As I walked up to the door my tummy started to do flip flops just like when I knew my mom or dad were going to spank me I was starting to get very excited and scared at the same time! The door open and there stood Dana looking at me with a lovely smile, “Bobbie, I see you are on time that’s a good boy I’d hate to have to punish you for being late. Won’t you come in; it is very nice to meet you.” She offered me her hand and as I shook it I seemed to feel electricity shoot through me. “Thank you Mistress it is so very nice to meet you too!”
She directed me towards a room and when I entered it I saw several spanking implements that would soon be burning my naughty bottom laid out on a table next to the chair I had seen in her spanking videos. I felt very nervous now as Dana sat on the chair and said, “Bobbie did you tell your wife you were going to get a spanking today?” She still smiled and her voice was as sweat as honey.
“No mistress she went out of town with our son and I am doing this behind her back, mistress.” I knew I’d be in trouble for this I had agreed to tell my wife.
Still with the honey voice, “Oh Bobbie you are a very naughty boy, we talked about this didn’t we?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“And what did I tell you would happen if you didn’t tell your wife and get her permission?” Her voice only seemed sweater now.
I hoped I could dance around this, “You said I’d get a serious punishment spanking and you would tell my wife after.”
Now she gave me a nice warm smile and a little giggle, “I guess you want to be punished then don’t you Bobbie? Did you think I’d let you off you naughty boy?”
“Yes mistress I thought maybe you might punish me but not tell my wife, please don’t tell her I promise next time I will tell her first.”
Now she just laughed at me, “I think your going to get punished again when she gets home that’s what I think, now get you jeans and shirt off.” She seemed upset with me but she was still smiling and speaking so sweetly.
“You have been very naughty young man and when I am done we are going to phone your wife and you are going to tell her the truth, understand sweetie?”
I knew I was in big trouble but hearing her scold me I just couldn’t help but smile I had wanted this for so long.
“Oh? So you think this is funny? Have you seen the video I gave to a boy who thought it was funny to get a spanking?”
“Yes Ma’am I have.”
“Good just remember you are going to get spanked a lot harder than he did, still think it is funny?”
“No Ma’am.”
Take off you shirt. Please I want to see what you have on underneath.”
I removed my tee-shirt revealing my sports bra she said, “Well now I thought you had on a bra, a tee-shirt doesn’t hide them that well but I didn’t expect such a nice pretty one and you look so cute in it Bobbie. Is that your wife’s bra?”
“Thank you Mistress. No I bought it just for today.”
“I bet you have on something pretty under you jeans don’t you sweetie?”
I kicked of my sandals and removed my jeans then stood in front of her in my panties, garter and stockings. I remember she made a point that if you are wearing stockings you must have on a grater on her blog when she spanked the guy in her panties.
“Oh Bobbie you look so cute I almost don’t want to spank you, almost. ***Does you wife know you like to wear her pretties?”
“No Mistress she doesn’t know I like to wear panties and things.”
“Do you think you’re cute dressed like a girl?”
“I don’t know I guess I hope I’m cute.”
“Well let’s just see if you still feel cute after I spank you, get over my lap now please sweetie.”
I bent across her lap and soon felt her warm lovely hand caressing my pantied bottom.
“I best not see those legs off the floor young man do you understand?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“There will be no wiggling or crossing your legs and I better not hear any whining about how much it hurts we both know it will hurt so don’t complain when it does, understand sweetie?”
“Yes Ma’am I understand I will try to be still.”
Then I felt her strong left hand land a spank on my bottom that felt like a paddle but it was only her hand then another and another and another. I tried to hold still but soon I was raising my legs.
“Get those legs back on the floor sweetie.”
Then again she rained down fast and hard spanks and soon I was wiggling again.
“Stop the wiggling I guess the panties have to come down sweetie.”
I felt her pull my panties down then her hand began to punish my bare bottom and the sting was so intense. As she was spanking me she said, “Sweetie I can see you just can’t keep still I have just about had it with you wiggles and kicking and these garter straps keep getting in my way, stand up.”
I stood up and felt just how hot my bottom was already getting and she was only using her hand I was beginning to wonder why I wanted a spanking! Mistress un-hooked the garter belt and dropped it to the floor, “That’s better; now get back across my lap.” As I reluctantly resumed the position she said, “I don’t think my hand is getting through to you I can see you need the hairbrush.”
Before I knew it I felt the hairbrush smacking one cheek then the other then right in the middle of my sit spot and I started to wiggling and kicking and whimpering.
As she kept spanking me she said, “Why are you whining we talked about that didn’t we and again with the legs, I will get my cane young man now keep still and take you punishment you know you deserve it don’t you?”
I tried to answer but it hurt so much I couldn’t get the word out.
“No answer well then I guess it’s the cane, stand up sweetie.”
My butt really hurt and I felt so much like a little boy getting it from his mom or a teacher I just started to cry at the thought of the cane.
“Sweetie if you think tears will save you naughty bottom from the cane you are wrong now go over to that horse and bend over.”
Through my tear filled eyes I saw the spanking horse she had spanked the man in panties on and I knew I was going to look just like him. I put my knees on the leather padded lower section then laid down and held on tight knowing I would soon be crying like a baby.
I heard her swishing the cane in the air and the sound was so scary and thrilling at the same time I knew it was going to hurt badly but couldn’t wait for her to kiss my bottom with her cane.
“Now sweetie this is going to hurt a lot, I hope you don’t have to do a lot of sitting tomorrow. I do not want to see you move out of position understand sweetie because if you do I will have to get the bigger cane and give you several extra strokes.”
“Yes Mistress I understand I will try to stay in position.”
“If you stay in place you will only get eighteen, here we go.”
The first one burned its way right across my bottom a few inches below the top of my bottom crack, “YYYEEEWWWWWOOOOOOWWWW!!!!!” I jumped up and grabbed my bottom and danced around in a circle.
“Oh sweetie now I have to use the big cane and give you 6 extra, I think I need to tie you down as well sweetie. Get back down on the spanking horse while I get the restraints, that’s a good boy.”
I felt the cut burning into my bottom as I again forced myself into position on the spanking horse, soon she had my legs and wrists secured to the horse, I found I couldn’t move my bottom more than a few inches in any direction. I knew this was gonna hurt a lot but somehow being tied down allowed me “let go” and take it like a little boy. I started to cry like naughty boys do when they know their “gonna get it good”.
She patted my sore bottom and said, “Now, now sweetie why are you crying now I have only given you one stroke and that was with the small cane, you just wait I am about to give you a real good reason to cry.”
I felt her tapping my bottom with the big cane and the next thing I heard was a swish and me crying out from the burning pain cutting my bottom right across my seat. Then another and another and soon I did have a real good reason to cry like a little boy, and I did.
I hardly heard her through my own crying, “Sweetie please count the last six, these are your extra if you loss count I will have to start over.”
Crying I answered, “Yes mistress, I’m sorry I moved do you have to give me more my ass really hurts!”
Then spanking my bottom with her hand she said, “Naughty, naughty, naughty using that naughty word, you will say bottom when you are around a lady.” She still spoke like there was honey and sunshine on her lips.
“I’m sorry mistress.”
Gently patting my bottom she said, “Let’s not let that happen again sweetie or it will be the big coach’s paddle for you. Now count out the strokes sweetie.”
SWISH “OUCH! ONE!
SWISH “OOOWWEE! TWO!
SWISH “OOOWWEE! THREE!
SWISH “YAAAAOOO!! FOUR! It just burned more and more with each new stroke till at last I heard myself yell, “SIX!!!” And I knew my caning was over.
“Oh my sweetie you bottom is going to hurt a long time, you have been very naughty haven’t you? I think your going to have trouble sitting for a few days. I think you should just stay there for awhile I wouldn’t want you tempted to rub your bottom we want it to sting for a good long while don’t we sweetie?”
Still bawling like a baby, “Yes, yes Mistress I guess so.’
“In a little while I will let you up and then I have a big surprise for you.” She left me there with a burning butt and tears running down my face, ‘what surprise, another spanking?’ I thought to myself.
Maybe an hour later she came back and un-fastened the restraints, then she helped me to stand; that’s when I discovered that some of the cane strokes had landed on the crease between my bottom and my legs and it really hurt walking.
“Come along sweetie your surprise is in the other room.” I followed her into the next room, panties around my ankles and there stood my wife! Her arms crossed and looking very angry.
Dana said, “I knew you wouldn’t tell your wife so I talked to her last week and we both agreed you needed a good spanking for being so naughty. I think she has something else for you still sweetie.”
“I sure do,” my wife said and picked up a long handle wooden bath brush, “Are those my new panties?!”
I was so scared that she had caught me in her panties and knew about my getting a spanking from Dana I couldn’t speak also she didn’t have honey on her lips.
“I asked you a question mister, are you wearing my new panties, and my stockings and garter belt?”
I managed to mumble, “Yes dear I’m sorry please don’t give me another spanking my ass, I mean my bottom is so sore please.” I begged.
With her hands on her hips she said, “I will teach you to go behind my back for a spanking and stealing my panties now get over here!”
I was soon over her lap getting my bottom burned again Dana gave her pointers on how to make it sting more and how to scold me. I have been told that from now on when I misbehave I am to go visit Aunt Dana for my punishment.
So now you know why I am sitting on a big soft pillow as I write this, I need to go now because if my wife catches me sitting on a pillow instead of doing the housework dressed in a maids outfit I will be visiting Dana and hearing her sweat voice as she spanks my naughty bottom much sooner than I would like.
Five Star reviewed on Amazon.com. Read reviews HERE.
Readers,
Here is another excellent submission to my recent ‘Story of US’ writing contest. ‘Under Your Authority’, a story in five parts, is yet another example of the wonderful reader-submitted content which I have the good fortune to share with you, every month. Enjoy! – Dana
Under Your Authority
Part 1
“How long has it been, young man, since you’ve had a discipline spanking?”
Out of the thin air of innocent conversation, the dreaded word had been spoken. I tried so hard to maintain an appearance of cool, but the color associated with that word had surely blossomed on my face to shine warm in the light of your office.
“I asked you a question.”
Avoiding eye contact, I shifted in my chair. “Over thirty years.” It had not been this difficult confessing through email.
“You are very long overdue.”
I searched frantically for an argument. Now that I was facing the music, I did not like the arrangement. “I’m really sorry.”
You appeared to find my sincerity amusing. “Yes, I imagine you are. Really sorry to know what happens here to very bad boys.”
“But I promise I’m going to change.”
“That sounds sincere, Dear. However, for someone who has been misbehaving and avoiding the consequences since… when?”
I did not know if you had really forgotten or just wanted to hear me say it.
“When one who has been misbehaving since his rebellion decades ago promises to be a good boy, he lacks… what shall we say… credibility?”
You smiled again, and it was a smile that made my breathing a conscious exercise. Under the circumstances it was terribly disconcerting to be seated across the desk from such a striking woman. Your smooth ability to take control of a situation was rendering me weightless.
“I really mean it this time. I could pay you extra,” I sputtered, the words spilling from my mouth before I could stop them. “It would be the fine for my crime,” I blurted to amend, seeing the look of disdain cross your face.
“Well, you warned me you might say anything.” You sat back in your chair with arms folded across your chest. “You’re not going to buy your way out of this. Did you offer to give your mother your allowance money when she got out the paddle?”
We both knew I did not.
“No, you would not have dared. Why would you dare make such an offer to me?”
Your tone of voice was a deception, a pretty fish that will sting with poison. “I’m sorry, Ms. Kane. I wasn’t thinking. Please forget what I said.”
“You were thinking alright. Thinking that I’m not really your mother today. Is that what you believe?”
You had taken the role and were owning it. I was frozen in my seat, unable to find the air to speak to this younger woman with stylish dark hair framing perfectly her beautiful face.
“Because if that is the case, I am going to disabuse you of that notion right now. We’ve discussed the nature of my authority, have we not?”
I studied the back of my hand. I was able to nod.
“Look at me, young man. Is that how you answer a question?”
You have a way of speaking, so calm and under control, that made me so anxious and about to lose it. “Yes, we discussed your authority.”
“And…?”
I detected a slight irritation in your voice, and that is not a good thing. “You have total authority, no different than my parents had when I was a boy.”
“Correct, Stephen. For all intents and purposes, when you are under my roof, I am your mother; I am your father. Are you ever going to forget that again?”
I assured you I would not. Ms. Kane is judge, jury, and executioner. My insides were churning. You spoke with a hint of what sounded like sadness. “And I raise boys as you were raised, at least until the decision was made to stop providing you with the discipline that was so effective. Is there anything about this you fail to understand?” you asked me sweetly. “Do you need further clarification?”
“No, Miss.” I studied my shoes.
“Good. Then it is time to address your behavior. There will be no more negotiating. Have I made myself clear?”
I uttered the affirmation, sat still in my seat rather than getting up and running.
Part 2
You were no longer behind your desk, and I was no longer at the safe distance across it. You had taken me by the hand and then walked me at a more brisk pace than I would have liked to the punishment room down the hall. Dressed simply as a woman might dress at home, your body language nevertheless spoke strictly business. I knew precisely what was happening, and the knowledge was a swarm of bats wanting to escape the dark cave that was my stomach. Had it really come to this? To a point where I was not in control and being marched to my comeuppance? I knew you were a woman of many talents, several of which Ms. Kane employs as a professional disciplinarian.
“I want you to tell me again what you did that has you in so much trouble today.”
If emailing you had not been easy, and then if talking to you from across your desk had been more difficult, then this now was impossible. You were seated firmly on a sturdy platform as I knelt before you. The intimacy was overwhelming. You had pulled me so close, your hands on my shoulders, your eyes the ruler of mine. I was a small planet attracted to a blazing sun falling helpless into your massive magnetic field.
“It wasn’t so bad as I made out.”
“Are you saying you lied to me in order to make a game of this?”
“No! I’m sorry. I’m confused. I would never lie to you.”
“Oh, really. And how can I be sure of THAT?” Your eyes sparkled prettily. “Don’t answer that.” You had placed your finger over my lips. “You better not lie to me now.”
“I would not want to make something up to get in so much trouble.”
“Then tell me again why you are in this room with me today. I want the truth and nothing but the truth.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassment goes with the territory in this room. I think you have good reason to be ashamed of yourself.”
I tried to expel the words from my lungs. My mouth was in the way. You cupped my left cheek in your right palm, looked deep into my eyes. “Tell Momma what you did.”
“I didn’t get my work done.” I spoke the words as if they were a full confession.
“Yes and I warned you what would happen if that problem continued. But why did you not get your work done yesterday?”
“I took a long lunch.”
“You had better speak up, Stephen Eugene Roberts. You were a very bad boy, weren’t you?”
My nod was a child’s. In my mind, I was a rebellious, irresponsible teenager—a bad boy in bad trouble at home.
“What were you doing at lunch that prevented you from getting back to work?”
Shame can be debilitating. Somehow, I managed to speak. “Watching the girl next door.”
There it was. The confession I did not think I could make to another human face. There was a grim cast to your voice I had yet to hear. “Tell me all of it.”
“Arienna was sunbathing at the pool. I could see her clearly from the window of my office upstairs.”
“Do you know this girl?”
“She’s the daughter of our neighbors.”
“And why were you spying on her?”
“She’s in college. She’s home early on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Does that answer my question?”
“No. Sorry.” I was starting to catch my breath. Maybe confession really is good for the soul. “I see her car parked in front. Sometimes I check. I heard water splashing in the pool…”
“Why are you ‘checking’ on her?”
“She’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever seen,” I stammered. “I know that sounds pathetic.”
“Indeed. A girl not half your age. How long did you spy on her? Was she at least decent?”
“She was wearing her string bikini. I don’t know how long exactly. Maybe half an hour.”
“You stood at your window and watched a girl sunbathe for thirty minutes? What, may I ask, is so special about this girl?”
I could not look you in the eye. “Arienna is like a dream, the kind you wake up from out of breath and sweating.”
“What makes her so special she has you acting like an adolescent?”
“I think if you saw her you would know.”
“I’ve seen hot, young girls,” you laughed. “They’re a dime a dozen. It’s amazing how male hormones can turn an ample chest and shapely behind into Venus and Aphrodite.”
“She’s petite, Miss. Her hair is brown silk. Her face is so pretty, it could seduce a corpse.”
“I hope you don’t think it funny that you were watching this young thing while she was in the privacy of her parents’ backyard.”
“No, Ma’am.” I made sure I sounded contrite. It was not at all funny.
“How unfortunate she can’t be here in this room right now to see what her seduction has amounted to. But I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I shook my head decisively. How much humiliation could I bear? It was hard enough to suffer for such a beautiful woman acting as my parent, but at least Ms. Kane understands me. It was only through that understanding that this was even possible.
“So after watching this pretty girl in the sun, what kept you from work?”
“I got distracted.”
“That sounds like the truth but not the whole truth.”
“I spent the rest of the afternoon on the computer. Looking…”
“Looking for what? Or at what?”
“Um…. for pictures. At pictures.”
“And I can imagine the kind of pictures. Instead of doing your work. Spying on young girls and playing on the computer. That sounds to me like a young man earning himself some discipline. We had better get you undressed.”
Part 3
I was being undressed. Like in a dream I was unable to move. In a nightmare I needed to run. You resolutely went about unbuttoning and removing my dress shirt and then pulling over my head the shirt beneath. I was passive as a lamb as my insides roared in protest.
“Stand up. Take your shoes and socks off.”
You were sending me a message. Despite my lack of experience, the situation was to be treated as a serious matter.
Where I had knelt I was now standing, the wood floor cool under my feet. You had unbuckled my belt, unsnapped my fly, and as you casually pulled down the zipper, it had still not registered fully for me that my pants would be coming down. It was surreal. Ms. Kane was going to take my pants down for a spanking! You worked them easily past my hips and they began to fall. I grabbed where my belt hung loose. It was merely survival instinct. You slapped my hand away and yanked the trousers down.
“Step out of your pants. Now.”
I did, and you whisked them out of the way. I was standing before you in the punishment room in my white cotton underpants. There was a desk behind you, and you turned to remove something from one of its drawers.
“Do you think you’re going to regret how you behaved yesterday?”
“I do regret it, Ms. Kane. I do.”
You were holding a small object clearly designed for spanking. The round-bladed paddle cut from a thin sheet of dark wood shined hard in the overhead light of the punishment room.
“Young man, you’ve only begun to regret it. You haven’t regretted your misbehavior the way you need to regret it since the last time you were punished properly.”
The little paddle fit well in your hand, as if it were an extension of your hand, its size rendering it a hard wooden stand-in for your hand. Ms. Kane’s hand of justice.
“It’s been so long,” I said, as if that could help me, and under my breath, “I’m not sure I can take this.”
“Did you ever have any choice but to take it?”
I shook my head in abject resignation.
“We’ve been over this, haven’t we? I have a responsibility here. A parental responsibility. I will decide what is needed, what you have coming. This is not a game for your amusement or pleasure. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You’ve been a very bad boy, and that is the last thing you want to be when you come to see me.”
I felt I would melt right into the floor. I had tried many times through many years to imagine this moment, where I was to be held accountable precisely in this way. Those attempts had done little to prepare me. I could only clutch with desperation the security blanket of knowing I was in the hands of a professional and more; there was no one in the world better to handle this than Ms. Kane.
“Let’s have you over my knee.” You tapped your leg with the hard little paddle.
It happened fast, catching me off guard. Having been taken by the wrist and pulled, I was a rag doll upended over your lap, and before I could appreciate where I was, my face was at the floor, my feet were in the air, and I was being spanked. There was a moment where I was aware of the surface beneath me, warm and soft, but that feeling was then made irrelevant by a fire that had broken out on the seat of my underpants. You had immediately taken control of my senses. With brisk, sharp, wrist-snapping licks, you were peppering my behind with the hard flat of the little paddle, left cheek then right, every spank targeted deliberately to a same sorry spot upturned low on a matching buttock. Each and every yelp, wriggle, and kick produced from yours truly was purely genuine. I reacted without thought, and it was only when you stopped punishing that an awareness of where I was came back into focus.
In a mild state of shock, I thought I could feel the shape of the paddle on two places behind me. The small round surface designed for bottom business had done the work of a branding iron, and for several moments I thought you might have burned two holes in the seat of my shorts. The discomfort quickly diminished to a pair of bearable twangs as the heat not contained by cotton continued to glow to warm the punishment room.
“Am I making my point, young man?”
I had yet to regain the breath to answer, but you were not waiting. I had to endure another ten sharp spanks rapid fire on my right cheek, and then a matching ten on the left. I kicked and howled my displeasure.
“Yes, I believe I have your attention.” You were fussing with my underpants, tugging briefly at the waist and seams as if to arrange and smooth them to your satisfaction, and then I felt your palm exploring where underneath cotton my flesh was a choir singing.
“Do you like Momma’s little paddle? I picked it special just for a bad little boy.”
“No, Ma’am. I don’t like it.”
“I’m afraid I can’t blame you for that.”
Your fingers remained busy assessing the discipline you had administered. I welcomed the light touch much like a thirsty man accepts liquor. I managed not to admit an outward show of appreciation, and when you squeezed or, worse, pinched, I only squirmed to lodge my grievance.
“Stand up.”
I was relieved both to be released from the awkward and uncomfortable position and that my punishment was over. Overall, it had not been so bad as expected. The moments while I was being paddled were bad, but it had not taken long, and the pain had become actually quite manageable. A little soreness for a day or two would only serve to remind me that the beautiful and talented Ms. Kane had taken the time to correct me.
“Turn around. Let’s see the damages.” You lowered my underpants and allowed them to fall to my feet. I was painfully aware that you were seeing a full closeup of my bare behind. My hands instinctively sought to cover myself in front. You asked me to bend a little at the waist.
“Isn’t this cute? I’m impressed with how this little paddle can redden so nicely. It appears your jockeys did little to afford you protection.”
How it embarrassed me to have you appraise my paddled rear, but I was not surprised by your evaluation. Where you had punished felt red. It felt very red, and I knew my lack of experience was a susceptibility to marking. As I cringed and self-consciously covered my front, I felt your cool fingers on my blazing skin.
“When you leave the punishment room today, you’ll be wishing never to see Momma’s little paddle again.”
Your words registered as confusion. I turned to you. “No, Ms. Kane, I never want to see it again. Should I get dressed now?”
“Not yet, sweetheart,” you said, your voice tinged with sympathy. “Momma needs to paddle on the bare today.”
“No, please!” I was startled and panic was rising. I really had thought it finished.
“Baby, this is no time for you to attempt to evade justice. I am sure I made it very clear what happens in the punishment room. Tell me what happens here to very bad boys.”
There was no way I wanted to answer that.
“If you have forgotten, then I will make an extra effort to impress the fact on you.”
Your beautiful eyes were blue ice, and with a set to your jaw that had my mouth moving. “No, I know. Very bad boys get punished. Really punished.”
“How are they punished?” you insisted, your impatience apparent.
“You spank them. On the bare butt.” My face was surely glowing.
“Yes. I always spank very bad boys on their very bare bottoms, and don’t think for a second that you are an exception to the rule. Your behavior needs to change.”
“It will change, I swear!”
“I bet you said the same thing years ago. What could you have expected as a reply?”
I knew but had no desire to answer.
“The philosophy is that your promises will be far more meaningful after the discipline has been fully administered. Let’s have you back over my knee.”
The panic that had flared was coursing through my bloodstream. I was all the more vulnerable and, upended again across your lap, it was apparent that nothing was going to come between my tender flesh and that nasty little paddle. I now knew the threat posed, but this time you did not immediately apply the punishment.
“Tell me why I have to do this.”
“For discipline.”
“I think that’s fairly obvious. Why are you being disciplined?” You were alternately setting the flat of the wood on the two spots you had already reddened, to measure your target or perhaps to announce your intentions.
“I didn’t get my work done.”
“I sincerely hope you’re not minimizing the trouble.”
I felt the paddle, hard and uncompromising. “I spied on Arienna. I know it was wrong. I invaded her privacy.”
“And now I must handle this. Correct?”
“Yes,” I admitted, but I sounded so unhappy about it.
“Do you trust Momma to punish?”
I again admitted defeat. At the risk of sounding as if I am reading from a text book on the subject, the essence of providing positive, effective punishment is the disciplinarian’s considered determination of what is needed based on the offense and its frequency in congruence with the nature and experience of the offender. Right then it mattered not what I wanted. I was trapped on the lap of righteous maternal justice. I had placed my complete trust in your ability to measure both my needs and constitution, knowing you sincerely enjoyed spanking naughty boys and girls, but with the assurance of a commitment to providing a sensible authority figure for those who needed fair and measured discipline. Ms. Kane is the ultimate arbitor of justice. Placed in the best of hands, I would worship at the alter of your divine judgment, giving me good reason to trust and with equal good reason to fear. I could trust I was in for a spanking I was not going to forget.
Part 4
This is the most difficult part of the story to tell. It is the part that feels the most private, the part that for anyone not in that room for those moments an event that may be viewed only more thinly through the imagination. Only you and I share the full flesh and blood of those dramatic minutes.
The second paddle spanking, this one on the bare skin of my upturned buttocks, was applied with a different strategy than the first. It was apparent that your method was to prolong the experience to make it a more conscious and palpable lesson. We both were aware that my novice’s flesh was in no condition for the harshest severity.
You had me cross my wrists behind me in a formal surrender, and holding my hands against my back, you started with alternating spanks on the two spots you had punished previously, not as hard on skin as cotton, but each made to sting like an angry hornet. To the otherwise silent punishment room, reverberating with the sharp crack of the paddle, there was little to distinguish the activity but for one pause where I had to be told to keep my feet down. I did not like Momma’s little paddle. There was something inherent in the grain of wood to bite the surface of its target with a sting greater than the damage caused, an ideal voice with which to scold a very bad boy turned over for his first adult spanking. After a good ration of stingers you paused and waited for me to stop squirming.
“You’re not going to get away with anything this time, are you, Stephen?”
“No, Ma’am!” I almost shouted, not quite so loud as the message instilled by the paddle.
You seemed many times larger than your physical size; I felt small pitched forward over your lap, and it was apparent now that your intention was to make me sorry where I sit, where I was uncomfortably aware of every lick you had given me.
“I hope you’re thinking, not only about yesterday’s shameful behavior, but about all the years leading to this moment.”
This moment was fire as you brought flat judgment down swiftly, one very meaningful rebuke to the softest spot on each buttock.
“Keep your feet down. I don’t want to have to tell you again.” Your direction was punctuated with more fire-hot spanks to where I was most vulnerable. My feet complained but obeyed your directive.
“That’s better. You can kick like a little girl… if you must… but don’t you dare interfere with your punishment.
Your words sting my face even now, but at the moment dignity was not my priority. I was not sure how much more I could take. I was helpless in facing both the paddle and your indictment.
“Such a bad boy you have been. The grief you put your parents through as a teenager…” Where buttock meets thigh, you delivered two hard spanks low on my bottom causing me to exhale a low moan, a burn scolding me with a voice as bitter of acid as my disciplinarian’s voice had been laced of honey.
“The irresponsibility that has been a burden on your wife…” Again you punished sit spots with fire. “The temper you too often have not controlled…” You repeated the sit-spot scolding. “The self-indulgence…” Two more doses of paddle punishment from a strict disciplinarian. “This is the spanking you should have been given.”
I was surely getting it now, a bad boy’s comeuppance over your knee, the little firecracker in your hand falling ten times on the crowns of my behind, five crisp ringing out in the air of the punishment room setting a new blaze on the left, then five just as brisk to burn the right. I prayed silently for you to stop but did not interfere with the spanking you were fashioning for me.
“Are you ashamed of yourself, Stephen?”
You had asked me sweetly, no assault on the ears but rather a tug to the heart. My eyes were beginning to well, ready to cry about more than my burning bottom.
“I am very disappointed in you.”
The dagger. “I know. I’m sorry.” I was sputtering, but you were already spanking again with no discernable pattern. In your infinite wisdom, and by some scheme known only to Ms. Kane, the stiff medicine you were administering was being applied with a perfect abandon and in short bursts of scalding heat. I was not aware of my crying until having realized my face was dripping.
“Baby, your days of doing as you please are over.” I was aware of your palm rubbing my bottom where it burned, as gentle as your words assured me. “I am in charge now, and you are going to be the good boy you have always wanted to be.”
“Yes, Momma, I will,” I cried as your now scolding hand propelled me over the edge. For this blazing moment I was a boy and you my mother. Perception was reality.
Part 5
I was at the window watching when she appeared on cue, Arienna, padding softly on small bare feet to the pool lounge, slowly pushing little shorts down that had done little to conceal the shape of her. As expected, more peaches and cream were revealed, long hair shimmered and a glint of silver from her ear caught the late afternoon sun as she turned her head to face me. She knew she was being watched, had always known. She looked up, large eyes accepting, blood-red, bee-stung mouth offering a kiss so sweet it would burn where placed forever.
She had let herself in, walked up the stairs and was now standing over me in her tiny string bikini, a giant in all but size and me in my bed unable to move a muscle. She brought her face close to mine and the air was pretty flowers. Her skin was smooth as I had never imagined, bright eyes deeper, nose a button of dearer perfection and candy lips, even more generous, lifted ever so briefly from sweet petulance to a playful, wicked promise.
“And just what do you think you’re doing, young lady?”
Her pout opened, and I saw the flash of fear in large brown eyes. Arienna turned abruptly to the voice behind her.
“Nothing, Ma’am, I promise.”
“Nothing?” said Ms. Kane. “You do not belong here, and certainly not dressed, or shall we say, undressed, like this.”
“I’m sorry.” I heard the surrender in the girl’s voice. The beautiful woman was already seated on the edge of the bed, tapping her thigh with the hard little paddle. “You’ve only begun to be sorry.”
“No, Mommy, please!” I had never seen anything so vulnerable as Arienna’s heart-shaped little behind, the skin so refined it might blush if touched lightly. Her slender form was upended across Ms. Kane’s thighs, the stinging hornet raised to bring down fiery redemption and I was fighting to break the bonds holding me when I arose gasping.
Had it all been a dream?
On my back in bed, I was uncomfortable in more ways than one. Not all a dream, but I got up and followed my urge to the mirror in the bathroom to check the evidence again. Before falling asleep, I had crawled into bed naked, and now my reflection over the sink showed that I was still wearing only the lesson imprinted that afternoon. The little paddle had left its signature circle twice, two matching sit spots as ruby red as Arienna’s most seductive pout. The hornet’s hive you had angered there was still temperamental. It was an oddly comforting sight, nonetheless, and pleasantly stirring to see how you had deftly, dare ruthlessly, painted a bad boy’s bottom. The precise and deliberate way you had marked me told of a punishment administered fully under control and without distraction. The evidence was unmistakable, stating loud and plain that Ms. Kane was now my absolute authority. She had taken time and care to intelligently perform her focused task and had left me with her clear and measured judgment. I could not stop thinking of you.
I returned to bed wondering how many bad boys and girls were in their beds at that moment preferring to sleep on their stomachs. The spanking had been as painful as I had feared but not beyond to a point of regret. The physical pain had not been my primary fear. What had caused me the most concern was the emotional pain I might suffer. I had visions of unbearable humiliation and wondered if, when all was said and done, I would leave your studio an empty shell of a man having paid a woman to beat him for his failures. So what relief to have fallen into nurturing arms. Ms. Kane had punished me in the service of her pleasure and my well-being. To submit to her had been a privilege. She had made me feel safe and well cared for, and accepted even as she lectured and scolded a very bad boy. I had been allowed to reveal my shame to a Goddess, to lay at her feet my secret offering. Now I lay in bed with her imperial mark upon me. If only I could sleep, to dream, to return to where Ms. Kane was ruler of the kingdom.
Governess Gemma Forbes’ new book, ‘The Adult Spanking and Discipline Handbook’, is familiar and warmly-written. It’s also an everything-you-need-to-know edition of pure spanking knowledge.
Ms. Forbes’ years of experience grant us access to her wisdom – and her book reminds us that we are many (after all, nobody would make such an exceptional effort if there weren’t others to read it.)
As you know, I am moving to Las Vegas this week. It’s been a hectic few days, trying to get everything packed up and ready to go, but I’ve managed to pull it off.
Now I just have to get the movers in here to load up the truck and I’m off to my new home…
I met John, owner and artisan, at the Tampa Tanners Vendor Fair. He’s as sublime as his work, and I had such fun talking paddles with him. Although I wanted every single one of them, I managed to reserve myself to one:
I have used it twice already, and am well-pleased with both the intensity of the impact, and the gorgeous diamond paddle it leaves.
My dear friend Ms. Mona Rogers will be visiting Los Angeles, August 22nd through the end of the month. Very choosy about her playthings, Mona is a seasoned BDSM player with an impressive set of skills. Did I mention that she’s also a knockout?..
The lovely and truly talented writer Erica Scott posted a blog recently which included this little number:
Author John Smith set out to get reacquainted with his kinky roots – and succeeded beyond his own wildest expectations. The result is the (often tongue-in-cheek) recounting of one man’s romp through the renowned halls of some of BDSM’s most well-played dungeons. Informative, often hilarious, and always simply dripping with sarcasm, Kink and the City (an Englishman in New York) will ring true to many who have taken a ride on the wilder side of life.
Mr. Smith uses laughingly-accurate pseudonyms to describe some of the more interesting characters he’s encountered, although I am certain that some must find themselves frightfully easy to spot. ‘Trust Fund Trudy’ is a favorite..along with all the rest (most of whom have a penchant for spanking, I might add). Stories abound of BDSM gone wrong, right, and every direction in between.
We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Well, maybe not. Either way, you’ll love reading about someone who has – and lived to tell the tale.
Thanks to John for providing a copy of the book, and for allowing us a peek behind his door.
(Rated five stars on Amazon.com – read reviews HERE.)
– Dana
Those uninitiated to the nuances of spanking play, corporal punishment, and the general world of BDSM may have difficulties understanding why a successful, intelligent, well-rounded and likely ‘dominant’ man would ever allow himself to be topped, disciplined, or punished for being naughty.
Occasionally, even others among our ranks assume a hard-headed ignorance of the why’s and wherefore’s of the male bottom perspective.
Some do not understand the concept of Role-Play. Some do not understand the concept of Play itself, in any form, and are very likely missing some integral empathy gene.
The truth is really quite simple:
Becoming a successful adult male is tough. I do not speak only of financial successes: education, temperance, mannerly behavior, good parenting and partner skills, and the desire and drive for knowledge are all necessary components of adult male (and female, for that matter) success.
We all need a break. From work. From stress. From responsibility.
Sometimes, and for some men, spanking – and other BDSM-related activities – is a way to shrug away the stress, let go the responsibility, and allow someone else to be in control…if only for a short time.
These men are most usually not submissives. They most certainly are not slaves. They do not crave cruel, sadistic dominance from a cold-spirited humiliatrix.
What they do crave is understanding. It should be easy to understand why a person would feel a buildup of stress feelings after a full week of dealing with possibly incompetent coworkers, missing out on family/social commitments – or making every one of them and missing out on sleep, driving in traffic, and generally dealing with the things that make us all a bit crazy every day.
It should also be easy to understand why, then, a person may choose to receive a stern lecture regarding his treatment of employees, or a disciplinary spanking to reinforce time-management, or even to be made to stand in the corner – to think about what he has done.
Equally as simple should be the concept that one may enjoy wearing panties, or being made to kiss the feet of his playmate, in order to not only feel closer to the gentler side of himself but to allow himself some modicum of shame, which we’re all now taught is something to be hidden or despised.
This is not, for any number of wholly inexplicable societal reasons, a side of themselves that most men are able to share freely. And those who do are sometimes viewed as less masculine, less ‘dominant’ for their pursuits…a most ill-informed and patently wrong assessment. To a man, they are just as manly as any other man on any other day in any other situation.
And don’t you forget it.
Most Sincerely,
Dana Kane
It was wonderful being with you again the other day.
Two days later, as I sit here typing this, I can feel the tender, sensitive spots on my bottom – particularly that area where the top of my thighs meets my bottom. It is a wonderful reminder of the fantastic spanking and paddling you gave me.
I can’t really describe the flood of sensations I experience being spanked and punished by you. The initial act of being caught in women’s clothing and lingerie immediately puts me in a submissive, embarrassed but excited state. Having to display my pink-pantied bottom to you while you chastise me for dressing like a sissy increases both my excitement and my embarrassment.
The soft silky feel of wearing panties and stockings is incredibly sensual but the realization that I am a man dressed in silky little panties, bra, high heels and stockings puts me in such a submissive state that I know the only place I should be is over your knee receiving a harsh paddling.
That moment of being placed over your knee; feeling the cool rush of air on my pantied bottom as my skirt is raised; the embarrassment and excitement as my panties are lowered to my knees and my bottom is exposed; the rush of anticipation, excitement and fear as I wait for that first stinging contact between my upturned bottom and your hand is exquisite.
And, the moment that the spanking begins, knowing that it will continue for quite some time, until my bottom is hot and throbbing from the strict application of your hand, paddles and canes to my writhing, reddened bottom, fills me with both dread and joy.
And, after my punishment is complete, as I reflect on the sensual thrill of my punishment, I realize this is where I belong: in panties, over your knee, with a hot, red throbbing bottom, at your mercy, glad to be punished for your entertainment and amusement.
Thank you. I can’t wait to be over your knee again.
Most prospective playmates do not write to me requesting severe punishments or harsh treatment. Most have no interest in experiencing unrealistic levels of discomfort or in reliving any childhood traumas.
They write seeking respite, relaxation, and peace of mind.
There is no empirical data on impact play as therapy, of course, but I am willing to wager that there are some interesting correlations between spanking and mood elevation.
Post-play, ‘spankers’ AND ‘spankees’ report decreased muscle tension, clarity of thought, and increased positive energies. For many, anxieties and depressive tendencies are lessened – a well-known fact among those of us who enjoy this type of activity.
Consider that endorphins are the brain chemicals which release ‘feel good’ feelings. Neurotransmitters and endorphins are released both during times of strenuous physical activity and of emotional peaks and valleys. Hence, the ‘rush’ experienced after a run, a workout, or a heated debate.
This same process naturally occurs during spanking play.
The bottom line?
Get a spanking (or give one) – it’ll make you feel better.
– Dana
Analytics reveal many useful statistics: numbers and charts and
graphs which we may use to magically manipulate the internet…
or something.
They also reveal a host of entertaining search terms entered by
internet users to reach a particular site. Here are a handful of the
searches which have led to my blog:
“excellent disciplinarian danakane” – Why, thank you..
“a gay drunk man dress as a baby getting a spanking for peeing-
love story” – Excuse me?
“Crack Spanking” – Guilty
“blogspot.danacane.com” – Close. But not really.
“she harshley spanking bad boys with a paddel” – Another near miss.
“dana nauggty blogspot” – Almost had it that time..
“whenever you have spanking and tears go to the place of sky”
– Likely my favorite thus far, I’m guessing that this is one of those
tragic Google Translate attempts.
“spanking for discipline is wrong” – This person most certainly
ended up in the wrong place. I hope that the shock didn’t kill them.
– Dana
August 2011:
6-10 New York City (confirmed)
19-21 Tampa (confirmed- fully booked)
September 2011:
(September 1 – move to Las Vegas)
9-10 Detroit (confirmed)
12-13 Chicago (confirmed)
27-28 Seattle (dates tentative)
29-30 San Francisco (dates tentative)
More upcoming travel HERE
Email for details and scheduling:
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
This is going to be a big move, as it will afford me the ability to develop a fully-domestic playspace and filming location for future projects.
Appointments in Las Vegas will be available beginning around September 14th. Email me directly for more information:
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
Los Angeles won’t be far away, and I’ll be back often.
– Dana
You didn’t really believe that he’d behave at the dinner party, did you? Me either, but I prefer always giving the benefit of the doubt.
This episode was beyond simple misbehavior, and needed dealing with swiftly and harshly…it would take the cane to redeem him.
For the contest entrants,
This month’s writing contest was less about challenging your writing skills and ability to research, and more about encouraging you to use your imaginations. I am pleased to say that I received several very imaginative entries and that you have exceeded my expectations once more. Some funny, some saucy, and some serious…I’ve enjoyed all your stories greatly and am pleased to share them with other readers here.
As always, if I could choose every story, every month, I would.
Keep writing and sharing…there will be more contests and many more chances to receive your Dana Kane spanking.
With gratitude,
Dana
*****
MY KIND OF STRANGE*
Dana is a professional disciplinarian. She has short, straight black hair and dark blue eyes that always remind me of the “violet” color in Elizabeth Taylor’s eyes. She’s slender, with curves in all the right places.
We met at a bdsm party at ***. I had been intrigued by her look, including some impressive ink on her arms, and her energy, but never had the opportunity to talk to her.
I was on my morning run on Venice beach and there she was taking her surf board off the roof of her car. I stopped to ask if her name was Dana. You look familiar. She nodded, smiling at me until I asked the next appropriate question: “Were you at the *** party last Friday?”
It turned out that she had noticed me and was curious why I hadn’t made the effort to meet her at the party. Now, with her standing directly in front of me and giving me such an evil smirk, I felt drawn to find out for myself. I finally made the first move, inviting her over for breakfast when she was finished surfing. I pointed out my apartment building, gave her the number, and jogged off, feeling her eyes on me as I sprinted to the corner.
I’d gotten cleaned up by the time she arrived and, still in her wet suit, asked if she could shower while I finished getting breakfast ready. I heard her singing over the sound of the water. What would she wear when she got out of the shower? Would she put his wetsuit back on? Or wear a towel?
I was pouring orange juice into glasses she strode into my living room, surprising me. That’s what my friend Georgia had said about her, Dana was always full of surprises. She wasn’t wearing a towel. She wasn’t wearing her wet suit. She wasn’t wearing the robe from the back of the bathroom door. She was wearing one of my blue oxford cloth button down shirts with a pair of my black satin boxers.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, moving toward me, that evil-seductive grin still on her face.
I shook my head. “No, knock yourself out.” I wondered what she would do next, and I suddenly realized that I was starting to perspire from wondering.
“I couldn’t resist,” she said, sitting on the edge of my couch and staring at me. My apartment is small, with the dining room and living room together, separated only by the sofa. My hand was still on the forgotten orange juice container, my entire body was frozen in place.
I watched as she ran her fingertips along one of her long, slender legs. Her legs looked good, sexy, her body was very pale against the black silk boxers. I took a step toward her, thinking that I wanted to take the place of her hands, I wanted to run my fingertips along her legs.
“There’s something erotic…” she started to say, looking at her reflection in the mirrored panels around my fireplace, “…something sexy about opposite sex lingerie.”
I got up my nerve to walk all the way to her side and once there I settled myself next to her on the couch. I reached out to touch the silky material and she leaned back against the cushions and grabbed my wrist before I could make contact. “Since I’m wearing yours why don’t you slip in to these”, holding out a tiny pink thong trimmed in lace.
I couldn’t believe how turned on I was at seeing this woman in my underwear and quite frankly, would have jumped out of the window if she’d asked. As I high-tailed it to the bedroom to change, she called after me, “and bring that hair brush that’s on your dresser.”
I returned to the living room and stood behind the sofa, my hands trembling, I hand her the brush, and wait.
She took the brush and examined it. It is old. The wood polished smooth as silk. The handle worn soft with use, the light bristles set into the dark wood. Turning her face, she strokes the bristles through her hair, leaving a path of obsidian, shining brilliantly in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the window. I touch her hand. I reach for the brush. Desire winning the battle over fear, I take the brush. Beautiful. Terrifying. Love and hate mingling in my heart as the wood presses into the palm. I lay the soft bristles to her hair, drawing them slowly down, bringing a brilliant shine to her lustrous locks.
As I begin another stroke, she raises her hand to mine. She takes the brush in her hand and gently pulls me around the couch towards her, guiding me between her spread legs, facing her. Slowly she lays the soft bristles against my chest as my hands fall to my sides. I tremble as the touch sends tingles of electricity through my body. She traces the brush around my nipple, the tingling spreading throughout my body. I am floating in the sensations. My head light with pleasure. I feel her touch being withdrawn, leaving an aching desire, an emptiness in my chest.. Her finger traces down my chest and over my stomach, hooking it in the waistband of the thong. She tugs gently, then slowly pulls the panties down to my ankles. Her eyes move slowly up and down my body.
I gasp and look down at her questioningly. She slides the fabric of the shirt tails up, revealing her naked thighs. I step to her side. I stumble, hobbled by my panties but quickly step out of them and stand by her left thigh. “Get over my lap,” she says in a sweet but insistent tone. Seizing my wrist again, she tugs me forward and bends me over her lap, settling me across her thighs. She runs her hand over my ass.
Her firm thighs support my body, as I lay myself before her. The rays of sun fall across my body, warming it, however a chill settles in my stomach as I feel her gentle touch on my naked buttocks. I feel her palm moving over my bottom, tracing small circles over the bare skin. The hunger surges up once more, fighting its way ahead of the chilling fear. I feel her thigh pressing against me. I push myself against her, moving my hips forward against her leg. I feel her touch vanish, once again leaving me empty, desolate. I pull back, raising my hips, aching for her touch. Wanting. Waiting.
Rubbing gently, caressing the backs of my thighs, her fingers play up the crevice between my cheeks, and slide down between my thighs. I open my legs, exposing myself to her, and she strokes my inner thighs with her fingertips. I draw a shuddering breath, and she lets her fingers trail up between my cheeks again. I raise my hips, offering myself to her. She lets her finger play over my bottom’s sit spot and I shudder again. Her fingertip traces around the sensitive skin, I twitch slightly. Very gently she draws her fingernail over it and I moan softly. “Please…” I whisper. She lets her finger trail down between my thighs once more, tickling the back of my legs. Slowly she withdrew her hand and I feel the hairbrush rest on my buttocks.
The smacking sound of contact, wood against skin echoes loudly. The sharp sting spreads quickly through my left buttock. My breath comes out in a soft gasp. Another smack accompanies a matching sting in my right buttock. My eyes close. The crack of wood against flesh fills my ears. The burning sting builds in my bottom. I shift, desperate for the sensations to cease. And with equal desperation, willing them to continue. The sting continues to build, as the terrible brush rises and falls like clockwork. It is too much. I thrust forward once more, knowing she can feel the stiffness against her thigh, but desperate to escape the stinging fire raining down on my bottom. As her soft skin brushes mine, a new desperation seizes me. I draw back, raising my hips to meet the next painful assault of the terrible, wonderful wood. The pain burns through my backside, as a new fire ignites in front. Again and again, I thrust forward, and back, meeting the fiery spanks above. As the heat builds, it mingles, until it is indistinguishable. The pain and the agonizing pleasure, all becoming one. The exquisite agony throbs through my body. Gasping as the pain and ecstasy rage through me, the crack of the brush coming faster, harder.
I collapse over her lap, breathing heavily. The wood, smooth, and soft, touching my skin. After a moment she puts the hairbrush down on the sofa. She raises her left hand, and I tense in anticipation. She brings it down with a sharp smack. I gasp, another smack, and another. I squirm, and as I raise my hips, smack, again and again.
The sting is beginning to build in my backside now, but her left hand works deftly, Smack, smack, smack, smack, I am whimpering now, bucking wildly as she spanks me faster and faster. Smack smack smack smack… I moan and gasp. Smack smack smack smack smack smack…
Then just as suddenly as it started, it’s over. I collapse once more over her lap, panting. She rubs my tender cheeks which are bright pink from the stinging slaps. I lie still with eyes closed for several moments, breathing deeply, then slowly push myself up.
“Naughty boy,” she said, moving back, after we collapsed together on the sofa. I leaned my head against her chest and confessed to knowing about her, knowing that she liked things in the extreme. Confessed my curiosity. She smiled that devilish smile and stroked my hair away from my eyes. Then she cradled my head in her hands and said, “what do you expect when you invite a strange woman into your apartment…?”.
My kind of strange.
*Story inspired by “Whose Panties” by Allison Tyler
Readers,
This is blog post number 103. Thank you again and again for reading, commenting, and participating.
Occasionally, I have the opportunity to sit still and catch up on the other blogs which I enjoy reading. While perusing Serving B recently, I stumbled upon a posting that I had not noticed previously, titled ‘Shout Out to Dana Kane’. Serving B has written a very kind commentary on me and my blog, and I am thoroughly complimented. I am also slightly mortified that it’s taken me quite so long to read and acknowledge this kindness…my apologies and many thanks to Serving B.
Another reader sent me a link in response to my post ‘F/M Spanking Scenes in Media’.
Called ‘Again’, a Footlocker advertisement from 2010, this one is spanking parody gold. Linked from YouTube.
I have received a couple emails from readers who are unable to post comments to the blog posts. I am unsure whether this is a blogger problem or a poster problem, so – please take a moment to email me if you’re having difficulties posting comments and I will try and repair any errors in code.
He thinks that we are headed out to attend a dinner party..but I have more important things to attend first. Namely, his near-constant brattiness – and a stern warning to be on his best behavior for the remainder of the evening (we’ll see about that).
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| (Photo: A particularly spankable Detroit bottom – this boy’s butt gets cuter every time I see it.) |
***
In Los Angeles, you won’t find a classier, more refined Domme than Mistress Damiana Chi – and her playspace, Chi Temple, is the setting for many of my most memorable spankings.
Traffic is an Excuse.
It is ever-present.
Readers,
Michael is one of my favorite long-time playmates, and he’s generously offered to allow me to share some excerpted video clips from our recent role-play.
(This is my first attempt at use of the new camcorder, lights, editing, splicing, and the like. Be gentle.)
– Dana
…are harder to find than their M/F counterparts. If you have any favorite fun, interesting, or sexy (within reason) F/M Spanking Scenes in media, please link them in the comments area. – Dana
Nova “Spank” from Disciple on Vimeo.
MONSTER – SPANK from ben jones on Vimeo.
Readers,
Here are a few titles currently on my radar. If you’ve any recommendations for me and your fellow spankos please leave them in the comments section. – Dana
By Governess Gemma Forbes:
The Adult Spanking and Discipline Handbook: A Comprehensive Guide to Corporal Punishment
Synopsis: “In the pages of this book you’ll find a plethora of stories about the early days of Ms. Forbes’ career. You’ll also find here essential useful tips, hints and advice for beginners and experienced spanking enthusiasts alike.”
By Erica Scott:
What Happens to Naughty Girls?
Synopsis: “A dozen classically romantic M/F spanking stories, blending fantasy, intensity, discipline and eroticism. Bonus: Two nonfiction stories, recounting the author’s first spanking and first video shoot.”
(Look for Erica’s new book coming soon.)
By Jacqueline Omerta:
The Psychology of Adult Spanking Series (Volumes 1-7)
Synopsis (Volume I): “Jacqueline Omerta, a licensed Marriage Family Therapist and adult spanking fetishist, offers a comprehensive overview of the basic components of how the spanking fetish develops and why it is so driving. She then interviews and gives a real-time, over the knee spanking to Cynthia, a woman who is currently exploring her need to be spanked.”
While I do love the smell and slap of leathers, and the swish of the cane makes me warm, the craftsmanship of wooden implements sometimes leave the strongest ‘impression’ on me, so to speak.
Not only for the sheer enjoyment I receive from the looks on the faces of my bottoms, but for the beauty and variation of the implements themselves.
– Dana
An accidental stumbling-upon on Twitter lead me to KittysExoticPaddles.com, where I immediately fell in love with the Bolivian Rosewood Flapjack Paddle:
This love affair spurred further online investigations, which resulted in some beautiful and fearsome-looking paddles:
Bassett Woodworking makes lots of nice wooden things, but their custom wood paddles are what caught my attention. ‘Time Out’ is my favorite.
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| Deep Purple Passion Paddle |
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| Cane-iac Customized Paddle
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| ‘You may want to rethink that last remark’ |
This is a saucy one from The Cowboy Writer, and I’ve used asterisks liberally to edit some beautiful yet naughty language. There is a whole lot of spanking going on at Woodsley College…definitely my kind of institution. Enjoy! – Dana
For the rest of Cowboy Writer’s stories:
Taming the Cowboy
Taming the Cowboy II: The Cowboy’s Revenge
School for Husbands
Beth
Make sure to click ‘Read More’ at the bottom of the visible text for the entire story.
Readers,
I am happy to be able to share a few photos from some recent play with one of my very favorite boys – with his permission, naturally.
We had great fun with role-play and it is my studied opinion that he has one of the cutest polka-dot panty-covered bottoms I’ve ever seen.
It was almost a shame to punish him when I ‘found him playing dress up in some of my finest lingerie’. Almost. – Dana
Sometimes Officer Naughty, the Spanking Court Bailiff (that’s me), helps carry out the Court’s sentencing.
In this case, the defendant is sentenced to 100 whacks with a heavy wooden paddle. Number 100 looks like it’s going to hurt a bit…
I really enjoyed double tagging the VBB; it worked out great and caught him by surprise. The “little red hairbrush” was a highlight of our visit and he did not expect the results that she was able to achieve. I think he will think twice before he gives her any more gag gifts. Dana is a wonderful disciplinarian and a great mentor. Thanks for a great time, I can’t wait for the next time we are able to double tag the VBB.
The Wife
Thanks to Prefectdt at SpankedHorticII for awarding my Spanking Pop Art Photo his “first, deliberate Saturday Swishing”, his “..pick of the week from images posted on the blogs in the rolls of this blog.” Check out his excellent content, humor, and well-chosen links.
Thanks also to Red at Consensual Spanking for his kind review and link. He’s another genuine spanking enthusiast with regular content and interesting opinions.
Spanked Angel wrote a lovely entry on my recent ‘Person Place and Thing’ Writing contest – and even penned a lovely prose (in about five minutes!). Angel writes beautifully and her blog is certainly worth a nice, long look.
Here’s an artsy F/F Spanking Video, made somehow insanely erotic because it’s entirely in slow motion:
+ 
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Three Broken Implements and a Small Red Hair Brush
I do not often cross-post media, but thought that this little Japanese television spanking clip was fun: – Dana
While I have no idea which words are actually being used, it is pretty easy to get the gist of the conversation:
‘This is the proper way to spank.’
‘Ooh, that stings! May I try?’
‘Sure.’
‘Like this?’
‘Sort of. Here…let me show you again.’
From our UK Laureate, ‘The Governess Makes a Discovery’…and he’s up to his usual form with another amazingly written F/M spanking story. (The asterisks are my edits, for slightly sensitive content.) – Dana
UK Laureate’s other writings:
The Ballad of Lord Hazlemere
The Blue Umbrella
The Governess Makes A Discovery
London, 1910.
Grace Bennett was nervous as she knocked on the door; she had a task to undertake that was going to be sensitive, to say the least. In over twenty years of service as a Governess in wealthy Edwardian families in the south of England she had never had to do anything like this before. But she had determined it had to be done.
Edward Carrington had been her employer for the past four years. Her primary responsibility was educating his children, Emma, aged six, and James, aged nine. A man of considerable status and means, he considered that home education was more valuable for the children than attending any of the local schools. He had considered sending James to a public boarding school, but having himself been educated by a Governess in the last quarter of the nineteenth century when education in English schools was haphazard and unregulated, he was aware of the value of a first-rate Governess. Miss Bennett was certainly that. Both he and his wife had been hugely impressed at her interview. Her experience and maturity – she was some ten years older than himself – gave her a confidence and stability that he felt would be of huge benefit to his children. This had been even more valuable for the past two years since the sudden death of his dear wife, Helen. He appreciated her willingness to take on extra duties, caring more generally for his children’s welfare in conjunction with Mrs Humphrey, the Nanny he had employed since James was born.
Miss Bennett’s nervousness was due largely to the nature of the task facing her, which required her to contravene the etiquette of Edwardian England. Although Mr Carrington was less formal than many of his contemporaries, he was nonetheless her employer. It was her place to take orders from him, and as a member of staff to execute her duties in such a way as not to cause him any inconvenience or to intrude in his affairs. She was aware she had, inadvertently, already crossed this line, and now she was about to do so deliberately.
“Come in.” Mr Carrington’s voice was clear and deliberate, and Miss Bennett made her way, closing the door behind her. “Ah, Miss Bennett. Good evening. How may I help you?”
“Good evening, Sir. I do apologise for disturbing you but I wonder if I might have a word with you. There is a rather delicate matter that I need to discuss with you.”
“I see. Not a problem with the children, I trust. You know you have my full authority to deal with them as you see fit. Do come and sit down.” Mr Carrington waved his hand in the direction of the chair to the right of the sofa. He waited until Miss Bennett was seated before sitting down himself. There was a brief, awkward silence until Miss Bennett spoke.
“Mr Carrington, I have to begin by making a confession. Yesterday afternoon I went to your study to find a book for Master James and I am afraid while I was there my inquisitiveness took over and I looked at the private papers you had left on the desk. I realise this was wrong of me and I have come to offer my apologies.”
Mr Carrington looked at her with a mixture of sternness and surprise. “I see,” he said thoughtfully, “and having had twenty-four hours to think about it, your guilt has taken over and you have come to offer your resignation. Is that the situation, Miss Bennett?”
“Well, no Sir, not exactly. I recognise of course that you may wish to dismiss me, but ….” Her words were cut off by her employer.
“Dismiss you, Miss Bennett? I don’t think that will be necessary. I am aware of the excellent tuition and guidance you offer my children. I would be hard pressed to find another Governess of your calibre. I think we can put this down as an unfortunate but temporary lapse on your part. I am confident you will not allow it to happen again.”
“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your faith in me. However, I am afraid that is not quite the whole matter.” As she spoke Miss Bennett put her hand in her pocket, pulled out a photograph, and placed it on the table in front of her employer. “Do you recognise this?”
Mr Carrington was taken aback, and for a few moments was silent, giving Miss Bennett time to place two more photographs on the table. “Or this… or this?” she asked. She had more, but there seemed no need to reveal them.
“Miss Bennett, have you taken leave of your senses? Why are you showing me these photographs? Where do they come from?” Mr Carrington’s voice now was full of irritated anger, and Miss Bennett, ever observant, noticed that his hands were shaking.
“Mr Carrington, I believe you know full well where they came from. You see I did not look only at the papers on your desk. I opened a number of the drawers and in one of them were these photographs, and many others.”
Mr Carrington leapt to his feet. “This is preposterous, woman,” he bellowed, shaking his fists. “Get out, get out.”
Miss Bennett had no intention of going anywhere, and stayed seated in her chair. Her heart was racing, but she had not yet delivered her message in full.
“Mr Carrington, calm down, I beg of you. We do not want to create a disturbance that is overheard by other staff, or indeed your children. Mr Carrington, as is plainly obvious, these photographs are pornographic, and a number of the others, which I now have in my possession, are, how shall I say, of an extreme nature. It is not for me to judge why you have them or from where you obtained them, but as an upstanding moral citizen, I must inform you that my conscience will allow me to do no other than to pass these photographs to the police. However, you have been a kind employer Mr Carrington, and I felt I owed you the respect of informing you of my discovery and of my intended action.”
Mr Carrington had been pacing the floor as Miss Bennett made her oration. She had prepared her words carefully and was pleased with how confidently she had delivered them. Her employer, however, was in a whirl. Of course he had recognised the photographs instantly, and despite his anger that a trusted member of his staff should have been prying in this way, and his concern for the possible consequences, he had, nonetheless, been able to listen to Miss Bennett’s words. He stood by the window, looking out.
“I realise, Mr Carrington, that this is a highly unpleasant matter,” Miss Bennett continued. “I felt that by informing you, you would be able to contact your solicitor prior to the visit from the constabulary that will inevitably come.”
Mr Carrington continued to stare out of the window. Eventually he turned to look at the Governess. “Miss Bennett, I greatly regret that you have made this discovery and that your opinion of me has been tarnished irrevocably, but I beg you, please do not report this matter. If this indeed becomes public my reputation will be ruined, my business will be destroyed, and what will become of all of us? You are an honourable woman and I pray you can find it in your heart, for the sake of my children if not for me, to be merciful.”
Miss Bennett watched in horror as, having delivered his appeal, the normally steadfast and composed man covered his face with his hands and started to weep. It was as though the capable and highly respected businessman and loving, responsible father had suddenly turned into a helpless, frightened boy. She rose to her feet, walked to him and touched his arm lightly. “I think you should sit down and settle yourself,” she said, quietly but firmly, and steadied his arm as he walked slowly to the sofa, where he sat, head in hands for some minutes. Miss Bennett recognised he had suffered a shock, with which his body and mind was struggling to deal.
Eventually he spoke. His voice was soft, the tone of a broken man. “Miss Bennett, I beg you again, do not report this matter. If I may speak honestly, the past two years has been a great trial for me. You may have thought that I had come to terms with the passing of my dear wife, but barely a moment has passed when she has not been in my thoughts. She was my rock, my foundation, always there for me, and it was her strength that enabled me to conduct my business, and indeed my life, successfully. In my loss I have been unable to contemplate for a moment forming an attachment with another woman,” – his voice faltered as he spoke – “these photographs were somehow a consolation. “ Again he paused. “Yet all the while I was aware that they were a betrayal of my dear Helen’s love. Clearly I would not have wanted her to know of them and if she is looking down from that other place where she now resides then I am indeed a miserable man.” Again he started to weep.
Mr Carrington dabbed his eyes with the silk handkerchief he always wore in his breast pocket. He looked up. “Miss Bennett, you are a mature and wise woman. Pray give me your counsel as to how I might be redeemed from this situation.”
All the while her employer had been speaking Grace Bennett’s mind had been active. She had entertained that he might react to her discovery with anger, or remorse, or possibly even threaten her, but she had not expected such an outpouring of emotion. The more he had spoken, the more she had recognised that her employer was, in many ways, a small boy in a man’s body. His words about the place his wife had played in his life made sense. She was well-aware what a gracious and level-headed woman Mrs Carrington had been, but she had not recognised the extent to which she had ruled the relationship with her husband. In Edwardian society women were required to take a back seat and be obedient to their husband, and outwardly the Carrington’s marriage had conformed to this expectation. The testimony she had just listened to had given her a glimpse, nay, a massive insight, into the underlying truth.
“Mr Carrington, it has grieved me to see you so distraught,” she began, “and I am well aware of the devastation to be caused by the public revelation of these photographs. I will admit to you I am two minds. It is not my wish to destroy you, yet at the same time my conscience tells me that you have sinned greatly and deserve to be punished, for without punishment there can be no redemption. By profession I am a Governess, as you are fully aware. Although I have never had children of my own I have learnt much about raising children, and the correction necessary to free them from their sinful ways. Indeed, Sir, you may recall that when I first met you and your wife, sadly departed, to be interviewed for the position I now hold, you yourself asked about my prowess with the rod. It was a matter of satisfaction to me that our views on this matter were as one. **
Mr Carrington, it is now in my mind that, on account of actions now known to us both, you yourself, Sir, might benefit from the correction of the rod.”
For a moment Edward Carrington remained silent. On one level her statement was absurd; to suggest that he, a gentleman, be treated like a common criminal was difficult to comprehend. And was Miss Bennett, his employee, suggesting that she perform the deed, thereby inverting the relationship between them? Yet – her stated intention to inform the authorities of the photographs had to be negated at all costs.
“Miss Bennett, as you will appreciate, your suggestion is somewhat unorthodox, yet I cannot deny it has merit. Tell me, is it part of your proposal that you yourself undertake this action?”
Miss Bennett addressed her employer with a firm gaze. “Indeed, Sir, it is. As Governess of this household I consider it fitting that the boundaries of my jurisdiction are extended to include you, in order to deal with the infraction in question. “
“And may I take it that if the matter is dealt with in this way, your intention to report to the constabulary will be revoked?” Mr Carrington enquired.
Again the Governess spoke firmly. “Indeed, Sir, you may take that to be so. Justice demands that sins be punished, but to punish twice for the offence would of itself be an injustice, providing that the penalty imposed is sufficient to expiate the crime.”
“Very well, Miss Bennett. I recognise the wisdom and fairness of your words, and I submit to your proposal.” The now calm, measured tone of Edward Carrington’s voice told Miss Bennett what she wanted to hear. “How do you propose that this matter is executed?”
“I will need time to make some arrangements,” Miss Bennett replied. “I must warn you that the punishment will be, by a distance, the most severe I have ever administered. Accordingly, I must arrange for the house to be empty, save you and me. And my proviso, Sir, is that the application of the rod is in accordance with the traditions I require of all my charges on such occasions. You will be addressed by your Christian name. You will be required to confess your wrongdoing and to request appropriate punishment. You will be required to lower your breeches in order to be beaten on naked flesh. At the conclusion of the punishment, or of each section of the punishment, you will be required to thank me for my attention to your welfare. I trust that is all clear.”
Even Miss Bennett herself was taken aback by the clarity and severity with which she had issued the instructions, given the circumstances.
Mr Carrington nodded. “I understand,” he confirmed.
“I suggest, Sir, that I speak with you again in the morning, when I hope to have news of suitable arrangements having been made. Unless there is anything else, I will bid you goodnight.”
Back in her room, the Governess reflected on the situation. The discovery of the photographs, itself wholly unexpected, had given rise to another equally unexpected discovery about her employer. What is it about little boys, she mused, that they are incapable of living without female guidance? Even when they are older in years, what is it that necessitates their regression to boyhood traits? She did not have the answer to these questions, only the assurance of their truth and a conviction of the necessity of regular correction to facilitate their journey through life.
The next morning, having spoken to Mrs Humphrey, she went again to see Mr Carrington and informed him of the arrangements she had made. The following day, Friday, was Cook’s day off. She had informed Mrs Humphrey that she would be finishing lessons at lunchtime and suggested that Nanny should take the children to the park for a picnic and extended playtime. Mrs Humphrey had been surprised as it broke from their normal routine but had agreed. “The children have been working hard and I think some relaxation and fresh air will do them good,” Miss Bennett had said to her. Accordingly, the house would be empty.
“Mr Carrington, I have been giving further thought to the arrangements,” she continued. “It is my normal practice with the children to administer punishment in their bedrooms, but in the interests of propriety I consider such an arrangement for you would be improper. Accordingly, the punishment will take place in the study, which seems to me entirely appropriate given that is where the offending photographs were stored. The appointment will be at 2.00pm precisely. You will arrive promptly, knock on the door, and wait to be called in.”
Edward Carrington did not demur. Miss Bennett had wondered whether he might have had second thoughts about his agreement but clearly the repercussions of so doing were even less palatable to him. She had been deliberate in making arrangements for the following day, which meant he had another thirty or so hours to contemplate his thrashing. And what a thrashing she intended to give him!
As a Governess she did not take particular pleasure from corporal punishment but she was a firm believer in its efficacy. She believed too that when punishment was given it should be given soundly, in order that it made a lasting impression on the recipient. She wanted her punishments to be feared, and as with all her duties she took satisfaction from administering ‘corrective education’ with skill and professionalism.
Friday morning’s lessons passed uneventfully, for which Miss Bennett heaved a sigh of relief. She had told the children about the afternoon picnic and encouraged them to be on their best behaviour or else it would be cancelled – a circumstance she avidly wished to avoid. Once they and Nanny had left for the park she went to her room and opened the closet where her canes and other disciplinary instruments were kept. Over the years she had collected a variety of suitable instruments, in order that she could vary their use according to the severity of the punishment required.
***
***
Through teacher friends she had acquired a couple of standard rattans, which she had used on occasions, but more normally she preferred her Governess canes, so named after their popularity with members of her profession. These rods were made from a denser species of rattan, thereby imparting a more penetrating sting. Her most well-used rod was thirty-two inches in length and of medium diameter, which meant that it retained all the flexibility that made the rattan so effective. However, on this occasion she reached for her Senior Governess, a somewhat thicker rod, four inches longer than its cousin. She had only ever used it twice, in her previous employment. As she removed it from the closet she recalled the last time it had been deployed.
***
***
Miss Bennett did not imagine that she would have a similar problem with Edward Carrington, even though she intended to increase the tariff considerably. At eight minutes before two o’clock she made her way downstairs, rod in hand. Entering the study she walked across to the desk. Quickly she cleared the few items from the top of the desk, leaving only the rod she had placed there, and rearranged a couple of chairs to ensure that she had sufficient space for the deed she was about to execute. She glanced at the clock, which showed three minutes before two. She sat down in the chair behind the desk, normally occupied by her employer, to compose her thoughts.
At precisely the appointed time there was a knock on the door. Deliberately she waited a few seconds before issuing a stern “Enter”. The door opened and Edward Carrington walked in, his head bowed.
“Come here, Edward,” Miss Bennett commanded, her voice as crisp as starched lines. “Stand in front of the desk.” She waited for him to reach the appointed spot.
“Now then Master Edward, tell me why you are here,” she ordered. For several seconds the embarrassed man remained silent. “Come along boy, speak up,” Miss Bennett demanded.
“Please Miss Bennett, I have erred greatly. I have been in possession of items that have no place in the life of a gentleman. I am truly sorry.”
“I see. Well, we shall see how truly sorry you are in due course, Edward. These items that you speak of – what is their nature?” Of course she knew exactly what they were but was determined that he should make full acknowledgement.
“P-p-pornographic photographs, Miss Bennett,” Edward stuttered.
“You naughty, filthy little boy,” Miss Bennett exploded, her tone emphasising her disgust. “How dare you! I shall not explore what other filthy things you may have been doing. The fact that you thought fit to have such wretched items in your possession is sufficient. Have you something else to say to me?” Miss Bennett looked directly at Edward, but he continued to keep his head bowed. “Look at me when you are speaking to me, boy,” she rapped.
“Please Miss Bennett, may I request you to punish me for my sins.” Edward Bennett, gentleman, businessman, highly respected in the community, had been reduced to the lowest ebb, and again he bowed his head in shame.
“Oh yes, Master Edward, oh yes, indeed I will. This is indeed the vilest crime I have encountered from a boy in all my years of being a Governess. You will be thrashed, young man, more severely than I have ever thrashed a boy before. You will be aware, no doubt, that it is the custom to administer the rod by the dozen, with the most normal tariff being half a dozen, or as it is sometimes referred to, six of the best. I have administered previously a caning of a full dozen strokes, which I considered a severe punishment. On this occasion, given the nature of your offence and the fact that you are old enough to know better, it is incumbent on me to award a fitting punishment. You will receive three dozen strokes of the rod.”
Edward Carrington allowed a gasp to escape from his lips. It was many, many years since he had last been punished in this way but even two or more decades on he recalled his suffering and the struggle to take his punishment manfully. What he had just heard was beyond his worst nightmares. However, he managed to maintain his composure sufficiently to respond, “Thank you, M’am”.
Miss Bennett rose, picking up her trusty rod from the desk as she did so. “There is nothing more to be said,” she announced tersely. “Move to the side of the desk, which you will bend over to receive your punishment, and kindly prepare yourself. “ As Edward Carrington took the few steps to the required position, Miss Bennett also moved and turned to face away from him. She waited a full minute. “Are you prepared, Edward?” she asked. Hearing an affirmative reply she issued the order to “assume the required position”.
Miss Bennett turned and walked smartly to a position on Edward’s left. Holding the rod in front of her she measured her distance, ensuring that the rod would strike correctly. She took a deep breath, gathered her concentration, raised the cane and brought it down sharply. The snap as it made contact was followed by a deep, muted grunt from the recipient. Miss Bennett silently counted to ten, as was her regular habit in these circumstances, before delivering a second stroke. A further four strokes followed in like manner.
“Have you something to say to me, Edward,” she asked. “I have always understood you to be a well-mannered boy.”
“Yes, M’am. Thank you Miss Bennett.” Edward raised his head slightly as he spoke but did not lose his position. His arms were spread either side of the desk, his hands gripping as best he could to help him deal with the pain. His bottom was burning from the sting of the rod, but, conscious of that as he was, he was mindful that his punishment had only just begun.
Miss Bennett moved to the far side of Edward. It had long been her practice to divide the tariff equally between forehand and backhand strokes. During her first employment an experienced Governess had explained to her the wisdom of this method, to ensure that both buttocks suffered the additional pain engendered by the tip of the rod. Content her position was correct, she resumed the punishment. The cane swished and snapped as she delivered the next set of six. If anything they were harder than the first set, as was often the case with her backhand strokes. Duly completed, she again reminded Edward of his manners.
“From here on in I shall not prompt you again. You will thank me after each further set of six, or bear the consequences.”
Edward’s backside was throbbing but through his pain he digested the Governess’s instruction. Miss Bennett considered the scene as she walked to resume the position in which she had started. The first twelve strokes had been delivered firmly, occasioning distinctive red weals amid the white flesh.
The second dozen strokes were given in like fashion, six from the left and six from the right. By now it was inevitable that stripes were created over stripes that already existed, increasing the pain considerably, and Edward Carrington had started to moan as the rod continued to land. He was determined to show the utmost bravery, but his determination was now being tested to what, he thought, was near his limit. Lost in his thoughts, he omitted to thank his Governess after the fourth set of six was completed. This fact was not forgotten by Miss Bennett, who had again resumed her original position.
“I fear something has been overlooked,” she announced, her tone displaying her annoyance. Before Edward had a chance to rectify the situation she raised the cane high above her shoulder and delivered a slashing stroke that made Edward cry out in severe pain. “What did you say, boy?” she thundered.
“Ah, ah, ooh… thank you M’am,” he managed to utter through his gritted teeth.
Miss Bennett was not satisfied and delivered another venomous stroke. The rod hummed loudly as it cut the air, followed immediately by another howl from Edward. “What do you say, boy? Speak up,” she again demanded.
“Thank you M’am, thank you Miss Bennett,” he called out. He was gasping for breath but managed to get the words out clearly.
“Very well, that’s better,” Miss Bennett announced. “I trust you are aware that those strokes were additional punishment for your forgetful and disobedient behaviour.”
“Yes, M’am, thank you M’am,” Edward assured her, anxious not to incur further wrath. He was sure he had never felt pain like it, and was praying that the remainder of his punishment would be less severe.
His prayers were not answered. True to her desire to ensure that punishment was administered effectively, it was always her practice to increase the severity of the strokes as the punishment neared its conclusion. Normally, when the tariff was six, this simply meant the final two strokes. Today it meant the final twelve.
Accordingly, for each of the remaining strokes she raised her arm higher, brought the rod down more sharply, and concentrated on flicking her wrist as she made the stroke. This was another technique she had been taught in her early days as a Governess, and she knew how effective it was. Its effectiveness was not lost on Edward, who yelled loudly after every collision of that wicked rod and his backside. No wonder Miss Bennett had arranged for the house to be empty; she was clearly aware what the consequence of the thrashing would be.
Finally it was over. Edward’s backside was covered with a mass of scarlet stripes and purple-red weals, many of them bloodied, but somehow Edward had remembered to express the required appreciation. But having done so the final time, the realisation that his ordeal was finished overcame him. He broke down and started to sob, quietly at first, then more loudly. Miss Bennett watched and waited impassively. It was the reaction she had hoped for. She understood the nature of sin, punishment and redemption. The suffering from the pain of the beating was a just punishment, but for redemption to take place there had to be an outpouring of emotion, as the consciousness of having paid for one’s wrongdoing took hold.
After several minutes, by which time Edward’s crying had subsided, Miss Bennett spoke. “I think you should compose yourself now, Edward, and correct your dress.” Again she turned away to allow him to make himself respectable, but continued speaking. “You have done well, Edward,” she said with genuine warmth in her voice. “I am sure you will continue to think about the events of the past days, and of today in particular, but you may now go forward knowing that your dues have been paid. Do not allow guilt to corrode your mind. Rather, learn from your mistakes. Oh, and by the way, the photographs I took from your drawer have been burnt.”
Miss Bennett began to make her way out of the room, then turned back to address Edward. “I will resume my normal Governess duties now, Mr Carrington, but should you find that young Edward requires further attention at some future time, I am available to assist.” She closed the door behind her and made her way back to her room.
Over the course of the next months and years Edward Carrington approached his Governess several times more to confess a variety of misdeeds, for which Miss Bennett offered her particular brand of assistance. Increasingly, Mr Carrington’s confessions were accompanied by a baring of his soul, knowing that the confidences he shared would be respected and rewarded with empathy and wise counsel. Thus, the professional barrier between employer and Governess was gradually broken down, and some three years after the events of this story, Grace Bennett became the second wife of Edward Carrington – in which role she continued to assist him as required.
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
Our Cowboy Writer strikes again.
For the rest of Cowboy Writer’s stories:
Taming the Cowboy
Taming the Cowboy II: The Cowboy’s Revenge
School for Husbands
Tiffany
“The Wedding Gift: Returning Home”
Tomorrow begins my east coast travel week, and it’s looking like a great trip. I am excited to see my regular playmates, and to meet a couple new ones, as well.
In past travels, I’ve left a little message reminding readers that I’ll be out of town and unwilling to post updates (which is still totally accurate), so this time I’ve spent most of the day organizing, formatting, and scheduling a few posts for the upcoming week.
Luckily, there are some extremely talented and focused writers who contribute regularly to the content here, and make it possible to populate this blog with so much quality fiction writing.
It should go without saying (but I’ll say it anyway):
I am always happy to receive your stories, poems, artworks, and other creative endeavors. I am equally thrilled when I am allowed to share them with other readers. Please feel free to send along anything you’re proud of….DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
See you soon, New York and Boston.
– Dana
It never ceases to amaze me – the time and creativity undertaken by readers who decide to participate in the writing contests. I do sincerely hope to have each and every one of them over my knee…my way of showing gratitude.
Here is another great entry from the ‘Person Place and Thing’ Contest. In this (untitled) story, the boys finally turn the tables on us girls…
– Dana
Robert and Carole had been friends virtually all their life. They had grown up in one of those affluent suburbs of Boston, where their existence as somewhat pampered and much-loved children of wealthy indulgent parents had given them both charmed upbringings. Now both 21 years old, they had just graduated from a Liberal Arts college in New England that was the preserve of well-to-do but not too clever students. At College, they had become inseparable and had decided during their final year to marry, immediately after their graduation. A lavish wedding ceremony had followed, set in the lush gardens of Carole’s parent’s mansion with the groom’s parents paying for a no-expenses spared honeymoon in Europe where the couple were to visit Paris, Vienna, Rome and finally, the South of France, staying in the best hotels throughout.
Clearly they had everything they could desire and Carole certainly knew it. As they travelled from Paris to Vienna and then on to Rome Robert saw a new side of Carole, one he had never encountered before. Carole was simply arrogant, speaking curtly and rudely to the hotel staff they met, however accommodating the staff were. Despite their youth and inexperience, nothing seemed good enough for Carole as she complained of inconsequential issues, the heat and lack of air-conditioning, the food, even the scratchiness of the bed linen. Robert became subdued as he discovered this new side to Carole, a side he had never really seen or experienced before – was his life going to be dominated by this bad-tempered young women?
As they sat under a blue umbrella, which Carole had insisted the waiter put up even though they were in the shade already, in a cafe some 50 metres from by the Trevi Fountain, Robert looked wistfully at many other couples who sat in a care-free manner by the fountain itself, flicking water to each other, laughing and joking. His new wife had already complained about her coffee which was too cold for her liking, ridiculing and insulting the poor waitress in the process. To make matters worse, Carole had rather theatrically poured the coffee onto the carpet requiring the waitress to get down on her hands and knees to clear up the mess as best she could. They now sat in silence as they waited for the replacement drink, the romance and sense of excitement at being at such an atmospheric place passing them by.
Carole became impatient and was about to call the waitress back to demand her coffee when a policeman, who had been sitting at one of the adjoining tables came over to them. He had witnessed the episode and said to Carole and Robert in broken English. “I see you didn’t like the coffee, come with me, I will ensure you will get what you deserve”. Robert and Carole looked at each other and then Carole smiled sweetly at the policeman “Thanks, this cafe is lousy, it would be great if you could take us to a better place”. “It will be my pleasure” countered the policeman as they left the cafe and followed him around the corner to the building immediately behind.
“You will get the experience of your life” the policeman said as they were ushered through the door. As they entered the building, Robert sensed something was wrong – they were not in a cafe but what appeared to be the front room of a house. The room was sparsely furnished and in the middle stood a lone tall ladder-backed chair. Behind the chair stood the waitress and in her hand, a huge paddle. Carole and Robert looked at each other in atonishment. “What’s this all about” blurted Robert.
The policeman turned to Carole. “In my country, your behaviour is inexcuseable and punishable. Spilling the coffee with intent is criminal damage and you will be locked up in prison overnight and then deported. A report will be sent to the authorities in the US” Carole turned white, she realized immediately her predicament and started to both cry and scream “you can’t do this, you can’t do this, what will my parents think”. Turning to Robert the policeman continued “this is your fault, if you had controlled and disciplined your wife properly, she would not have behaved the way she did. In my country, husbands thrash their wives and I suggest you learn to do this yourself if you wish this matter to go no further”.
Carole, oblivious to the words the plooliceman had just said, continued to cry and scream directing her venom at Robert “do something, do something, get me out of here”. Robert looked at the policeman but instantly knew what he had to do. Approaching the waitress, he held out his hand and said “May I ?” as he took the paddle from her and grabbed hold of his wife with the other. Within a second, Robert was seated on the chair and had roughly pulled his wife over his lap. “What are you doing???” shouted Carole, “something I should have done days ago” as Robert took the hem of her skirt and lifted it up over her waist exposing her bottom. Immediately he started to thrash her. “Stop it, stop it” shouted Carole as she tried unsuccessfully to wiggle off his lap, his hold around her waist tightening. The policeman looked on approvingly and gestured to her pants as Robert continued to paddle her. Robert stopped and quitely said to Carole “Are you ready to apologise to the waitress”? “No, I am not and just wait until I tell my parents”. With that Robert strengthened his hold and with his free hand pulled down her panties resuming the paddling on her bare bottom.
Robert was like a man possessed; in an instant he knew that this opportunity would be perhaps the only time he would be able to dominate his wife and teach her a lesson. As he thrashed her, his thoughts were on the future and how he wanted his life to be. He didn’t want to have a spoilt, bored wife but one who would enjoy life and everything that it had to offer. He knew that this lesson would teach her that life was about experiencing everything that was offered – even faulty air-conditioning, scratchy bed-lined and cold coffee and as he thrashed her, he willed her spirit to change.
At last he decided she had had enough and stopped. “Are you ready to apologise to the waitress?” he said in a soothing voice as he helped her off his lap. “I’m sorry blubbered Carole, my behaviour was wrong”. Everybody smiled, the lesson had been learnt and perhaps, just perhaps, Robert was going to have a great married life after all.
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
I am currently planning a visit to Chicago (my first) for mid-July. Tentative playdates are Thursday the 14th through Saturday the 16th. Email me for details and scheduling. – Dana
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
 The cane is so straight that you cannot even see it, except for the tip. |
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| Fiberglass cane, from JT’s Stockroom |
‘When in Rome, do as you are told to do’
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More fun than traffic school.
(I am thoroughly enjoying playing with these photos, which I’d kind of thought of as a loss. The wonders of digital photo manipulation will never cease to amaze me. – Dana) |
After waiting impatiently for entirely too long, the new camcorder arrived last week, and as these things often happen, was immediately put aside for more pressing matters. When I finally decided to have a go at it…I realized that I had ordered the wrong damned camera. While it’s a fine camera, it is most definitely not the one I had chosen, and I must now return and reorder the correct model. Custom and premium videos will just have to wait a bit longer.
In the meantime, I’ll soon be recording another home spanking..it’s been entirely too long for that, as well.
Fun with lighting recently made for some interesting still photos. ‘Interesting’ being the most polite word I can think of to describe shots that came out yellow, blue, under-exposed, AND over-exposed…all at the same time. Rather than chalk it up to experience and trash the whole bunch, I’ve decided to have some fun with Photoshop, instead…
“The Wedding Gift”
It was just a little package maybe 8 or 9 inches long, I noticed it was an odd shape for a wedding gift. The wrapping paper was pretty simple, an off colored pink with a small red bow tied around it. It stood out from the other gifts that were brightly colored and ornately decorated with big colorful ribbons and bows. Among the other gifts it looked plain and boring. I noticed a small tag that read “Ann, make sure to make good use of this”. Ann came over and asked me if I was ready to open the gifts, I said “yes” but honestly all I wanted to do was to leave. As we moved over to the table I saw Ann pick up the little pink package and set it aside. It seemed like an eternity before we were finished opening all the gifts. Finally everything was opened except that funny little package. I bent over and quietly said “I think we forgot one” and I pointed over to the small package, she simply looked at me and in an assertive voice said “you don’t need to worry about that one, at least not now.” I thought that was kind of a strange reply but I wanted to go so I shrugged my shoulders and let it go.
– Dana
The Ballad of Lord Hazlemere
– Dana
Wow…just wow. A fantastic entry from the ‘Person Place and Thing’ Contest. Something about all the gelato talk interspersed with spanking makes it seem even more decadent..
– Dana
Be sure to click ‘Read More’ at the bottom of the visible text to display the full story.
TIZIANA’S ROMAN HURRICANE
Tiziana was excited to be making her visit to Roma, though her husband Massimo had been there several times on business over the past year. But now they were celebrating their honeymoon, having a suite at the Villa Spalletti Trivelli near the famous Fontana di Trevi.
It was a warm spring afternoon and they’d just strolled into the
Gelateria Frigidarium for a smooth, creamy, flavorful Italian ice
cream. Massimo purchased two coppas of Stracciatella, a vanilla gelato laced with chocolate.
They sat watching the parade of Romani coming and going, friends chatting in an animated fashion, featuring many hand gestures which are understandable in any language. Lovers ambled along, hand in hand and Tiziana winked at Massimo.
They made their way to the famous Trevi Fountain and Massimo fished some coins out of his pocket. Tiziana stood with her back to the fountain, launching the first one with her right hand and tossing it over her left shoulder. Two coins are said to lead to a new romance and three will bring marriage or divorce. The second Euro coin landed elegantly in the ornate fountain and Tiziana again winked at Massimo.
He began to blush, knowing what was on the horizon.
As they made their way back to the hotel, a gentle rain began to fall. Caught off-guard and not having an umbrella, Massimo handed a street vendor (known locally as “vu compra’s” since they routinely ask people if they want to buy: “vu compra” in their stilted immigrant Italian) a ten Euro bill in exchange for a bright ombrello blu. He opened the umbrella and shielded his darling Tizi from the gentle rain.
After dodging a few taxis and bicyclists they arrived back at the Villa Spalletti. Massimo shook off the rain from the umbrella and closed it as they found their way to the elevator. Tiziana had gotten the room key from the desk clerk.
Up on the fourth floor, they opened the elevator gate and opened the door leading to the hallway. Massimo closed the elevator and slowly joined his beloved Tiziana down the hall to their suite. “Slowly” because Massimo was certain as to what fate awaited before their dinner at the well-known Mirabelle restaurant on the Via di Porta Pinciana.
Yes, the tossing of the coins into the fountain sealed Massimo’s fate. Tiziana had promised him a “Sculacciata” as they came by train from Firenze earlier that day.
She sat on the edge of the spacious “letto matrimoniale,” a king sized bed with an ornate only-in-Rome headboard with a carving of the Fontana di Trevi. After a moment she directed Massimo to remove his shoes, shirt and slacks. “You know the protocol!” she said in a quiet, but firm voice.
And he did as ordered, hands now behind his back. “Go stand in the corner so I can admire the sight of your lovely ‘culo’.” Tiziana commanded.
His American-styled Jockey briefs she’d purchased on her recent trip to New York were tight on his nether cheeks. His muscular bottom was more delicious to Tiziana than the Stracciatella gelato she’d enjoyed an hour earlier.
“Massimo dear,” she sang out, “Per favore, vieni qui.” And so he stood to he side, his eyes gazing on to her bare legs. She’d pulled her skirt up and he soon was draped over her lap.
She enjoyed running her hand over the smooth cotton briefs which would soon be “half mast” on her dearly beloved. “You know this is something we have to do to keep our marriage strong, Massimo.” Tiziana explained.
“Si, carissima.” he replied.
And soon there was more rain in the forecast. Now Tiziana’s hand showered his quivering bottom with a storm of spanks. Every so often, the downpour would calm down, as she’d soothingly massage his now reddened cheeks. But then another storm would blow in and poor Massimo was kicking his legs in the air, trying to find shelter in the downpour.
Tiziana lifted her right leg over both of his, pinning him more
closely to her lap. Now his scant protection was removed, as she lowered his underpants. “It’s time to get down to business, dear.” she cooed lovingly.
And her hand continued to smack poor Massimo’s naked bottom.
She paused and ordered him back to the corner to, once again, admire her handiwork.
But then she opened her purse and produced a hairbrush, a family heirloom, as it turns out. “My mother used this on me and my sisters,” Tiziana told Massimo. “Now I’m going to introduce you to this.”
Massimo was told to once again “assume the position” and he fell onto her lap, as she draped her left arm over his back and grabbed the hairbrush with her right…and now a storm of hurricane intensity was thundering down on poor Massimo, the waves of the force of the spanking vibrating across his bottom like waves on a lake. He tried to kick his legs, but to no avail.
“You know, dear, this is for both our benefits.” Tiziana intoned.
“It will make our marriage all that much stronger.”
“Si, amore mio.” he managed to reply.
And finally the storm made its way through Room 402 at Villa
Spalletti. Tiziana gently pulled up Massimo’s “mutandine” and
gently massaged his bottom, which was now showing the effects of both thunder and lightning.
“Va bene,” she said. “Let’s go have dinner…you never know what’s for dessert!”
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
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– Dana
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
In upcoming weeks, I will begin filming my first full-length spanking videos. The little cam and lights have arrived, and I have some great ideas for the scenes which I would like to shoot.
While this is in no way a full-tilt professional production (I DID say ‘little cam’, after all…), I look forward to creating something new and different for my fellow fans of spanking content.
I also thought you may like to see me spanking different bottoms for a change. That’s where you come in. I am putting out a call for willing spankos who’d like a video spanking from Dana Kane. There is no age, gender, or ‘looks’ qualification…I believe that everyone deserves a sound spanking.
A few things to consider, if you’re considering:
Readers,
Here is another excellent F/M spanking story from the ‘Person Place and Thing’ Writing Contest.
‘Love in Rome’ is the tale of a newly married man who needs a little help mending his former ways. Enjoy!
(As always, the asterisks are my edits – for saucy language.)
– Dana
The ‘Person Place and Thing’ Spanking Story Contest was tough: it required time, research, and a lot of creativity. While I received only a handful of entries, each one was just as enjoyable as the one before, and I have realized that having a few outstanding entries makes the decision-making tough, tough, tough.
I am posting the winner, along with all the other entries, throughout the month of June. The winner will receive a free spanking session with me.
This is quite possibly one of the best pieces of spanking fiction I have read yet…beautifully descriptive and detailed..
it is called ‘Good Day for a Wish’.
Please enjoy the winning entry. – Dana
Chapter 1
Kate’s face lit up with a smile when her long time friend and
neighbor Sonia popped her head in the kitchen door.
“Come on in and sit down Sonia…. coffee’s almost ready!” she said.
Sonia smiled and gave her friend a hug before sitting down for their
Saturday morning coffee ritual.
Kate was a tall, willowy brunette with long dark hair.
A pair of bright and piercing blue eyes hid behind a pair of dark
rimmed glasses.
Sonia was an attractive blonde and her short frame housed a well
toned but curvy figure.
Both were Elementary Schoolteachers in their early 40’s.
“What’s Lou up to today?” Sonia asked.
Kate rolled her eyes at the mere mention of her husband’s name.
“Probably watching baseball all day while I get things done around
here.
Kate’s husband Lou was a tall, muscular man who worked hard all week
in construction and enjoyed winding down on the weekends.
Although balding on top he still maintained his handsome swarthy
look.
“Tell me about it ” Sonia sighed.
“Brendan is off on another fishing trip with his buddies!”
Sonia and Brendan were High School sweethearts.
Brendan was a busy lawyer who worked long hours and enjoyed his
fishing trips to unwind from a stressful week.
He still had lots of curly blonde hair and his lanky frame was well
toned from his daily workouts and morning runs.
“Have you tried talking to Lou to get him to do his share of the
household chores and perhaps even spending some time with you?”
Sonia asked as Kate poured her coffee.
“That’s only part of the problem Sonia….” Kate replied.
“He’s so darn inconsiderate and rude all the time it would only make
things worse if I brought that up”
Sonia frowned.
“Ditto…..I know these guys work hard all week and have a lot of
stress but taking us for granted like this is not acceptable.”
Kate frowned and sat down at the table.
“As if there is anything we can do to change them Sonia!” she sighed.
Her friend smiled back at her mischievously.
“Your darn right there is something we can do Kate and we are
perfectly qualified to do it”
Kate raised a curious eyebrow to ask Sonia to explain.
“We’re Schoolteachers Kate!
We spend all year teaching little boys to behave…..and we are very
good at it by the way .” Sonia began.
“When you get right down to it Lou and Brendan are little boys in a
grown man’s body.
Problem is there is nobody to put them in their place.
Deep down they’re yearning for a strong woman to take charge of
them!” she concluded.
Kate’s face had a look of shock and amusement upon hearing her
friend’s comments.
“Come on Sonia.
You can’t be serious.
I agree that those two behave like kids sometimes but they’re grown
men…”
Sonia interrupted
“…..Grown men who need discipline and taught a few lessons!
Do you want to hear my plan or not?”
Kate pondered for a second and then smiled broadly.
“Let’s hear it!” she said.
CHAPTER 2
Sonia giggled with excitement as she opened the folder she had
brought with her and pulled out some papers.
Kate immediately recognized the documents as similar to those she
had seen when planning classes at school such as lesson plans,
report cards, etc.
When she looked at them more closely she began to understand Sonia’s
plan for the first time.
Sonia had designed a school for husbands with she and Kate as the
teachers and Lou and Brendan as the pupils!
She loved it.
The pair poured over the documents enthusiastically as they downed
their coffee and muffins making changes and exchanging ideas.
After about an hour they both sat back and looked at each other in
satisfaction.
“This will work ” Kate declared.
There were still a few weeks of summer holidays left so Sonia and
Kate met daily to refine and implement their plan,
Lou had built a large room in their basement some time ago for Kate
to use as an office but as usual it was left unfinished.
The pair decided this would be the ideal location for their “Husband
School” and went about setting it up as a classroom.
Even when the two men visited the basement when the couples got
together they did not even notice the changes.
Soon everything was ready and only the final and toughest task
remained – breaking the news of their plan to Lou and
Brendan.
CHAPTER 3
“Don’t forget we’re going to Kate and Lou’s place for lunch today
Bren ” Sonia said as she handed her husband a plate of bacon and
eggs.
Brendan took the plate and placed a hand on his wife’s curvy
derriere, slid it up under her short housecoat and squeezed her
right buttock.
“I’d like to have a large portion of this for dessert ” he whispered
in her ear as she let out a squeal.
“Bren! Stop that at once!” she said firmly as she removed his hand.
Brendan chuckled and planted a kiss on Sonia’s full lips.
“I love it when you’re strict with me honey ” he whispered.
Sonia’s face lit up on hearing the words but she said nothing.
Meanwhile Lou and Kate were in the middle of a heated argument.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before I made plans to play ball
with the guys Kate? ” Lou yelled.
Kate’s face flushed red.
“Because you never listen anyway Lou!” she screamed back.
Lou picked up a dishtowel and threw it angrily to the floor.
“Dammit” he scowled as he began to pace.
He was stopped in his tracks when his right ear lob was pinched
between Kate’s thumb and forefinger.
“OW!” he yelled as Kate pulled roughly on his ear lowering his head
to her eye level.
“Are you ready to talk politely now?” she asked as she tightened her
grip.
“YEOW….OUCH….YEAH…YEAH…..STOPPIT ” he howled.
Kate released her grip.
“I’m going to get some groceries.
I suggest you call your friends and tell them you can’t go to the
game.” She said firmly as she left Lou to nurse his sore ear.
CHAPTER 4
The two couples always got along well together so the BBQ Lunch was
a very enjoyable affair.
After eating it was time for the ladies o launch their plan.
As their men sprawled in front of the television nursing their beers
Kate and Sonia went into their newly completed classroom and locked
the door.
They busily set the scene and prepared the room before changing into
more appropriate attire.
Shorts, tank tops and sandals where replaced with low cut shirts,
knee high tight skirts and heels.
For complete authenticity the pair had gone lingerie shopping the
day before and underneath their outfits they wore silk underwear,
garter belts and stockings.
To finish they tied their hair up and donned glasses to complete
the “Teacher” look.
Satisfied with the room and their appearance Kate and Sonia hugged
and took a deep breath as they called out for their husbands to join
them.
As expected their menfolk took a while to respond, finally leaving
the comfort of their seats on the 3rd and loudest command.
It did not occur to them why their wives were beckoning them so
seriously to an unfinished room but it soon became clear when they
casually opened the door.
Kate and Sonia stood behind a large antique desk at the front of the
authentic looking classroom looking very stern as the men entered.
Two smaller desks with modest wooden chairs sat together in front of
the large desk.
Behind the large desk was a large blackboard on a pedestal and
beside it a large wooden cupboard.
Adorning the walls around the room were various posters and charts
showing the lessons to be taught and progress made.
Brendan and Lou were speechless as they eyed their wives and
surveyed the room.
Finally Sonia broke the silence and began to explain the plan to the
men.
“Please be seated at your desks gentlemen, ” she said gesturing them
to the two desks in the middle of the room.
Still surveying their surroundings, without a word Lou and Brendan
walked slowly forward and sat down at their desks as instructed.
It was only then that the two men opened their mouths to speak but
were quickly silenced by their wives who put fingers to their mouths
in unison.
“When you are in this room you will speak only when spoken to or
given permission to speak.
Is that understood?” Kate announced in a deep, firm voice.
“I said is that understood?” she repeated.
The two men were startled and mumbled back ” Yes”.
Kate raised an eyebrow and took a step toward her students.
“Yes…. what …gentlemen?” she said.
“Oh…yes Ma’am” Lou and Brendan chirped back.
Without further delay Sonia stepped forward to explain the plan.
`Husband’ school would be held every Saturday from 9am until 3pm.
Subjects included were courtesy, consideration, honesty, housework &
chores, communication, etc.
She also emphasized that they would work on correcting specific
issues and faults.
There would be homework assigned and a weekly report card issued.
The men were surprised to hear that there was even a school uniform
consisting of a plain white T-shirt and shorts.
Kate held up their uniforms to show them.
The shorts were basically a pair of tight spandex material underwear.
At this point Lou courageously put up a hand.
“Yes Lou?” Kate said giving him permission to speak.
“Well….its underwear…. why do we have to wear that?” he asked.
Kate tried to hide a smile as she glanced over at Sonia.
“Sonia was just getting to that” she answered.
Sonia took a breath and continued.
“As you can see gentlemen this institution has quite a few rules and
they must be observed.
Experience tells us that students will on occasion disobey or break
these rules so to discourage this there must be consequences.
Sonia paused and nodded to Kate who opened the doors of the large
cupboard.
Inside hung a number of long canes with curved handles, wooden
paddles and leather straps.
Lou and Brendan looked at each other and swallowed hard.
“The school will employ corporal punishment gentlemen.
The implement used and number of strokes will depend on the offence.
All punishments will be on the buttocks in front of the class.
This is the reason for the tight shorts as a uniform as it will save
time in having to remove clothing and will make the punishment more
effective and lasting.
Do you have any questions gentlemen?” Sonia concluded.
Brendan and Lou were still in a state of shock as they tried to take
in what had just occurred and were speechless.
“In that case our first lesson will commence immediately gentlemen.
Please change into your uniforms- and do not dither” Kate announced
ominously.
Sonia and Kate could not conceal their pride or amusement as they
watched their strong husbands shuck off their jeans and change into
their “uniforms”.
“Good choice ” Sonia whispered to Kate as they studied how good
their mans’ butts looked in the tight white shorts.
CHAPTER 5
Lou and Brendan slid behind their desks as Kate handed them both a
piece of paper.
“We’ll start by both of you listing your 10 worst faults – you have
5 minutes ” she said.
The husbands scratched their heads and chewed the ends of their
pencils as they pondered the exercise and occasionally jotted things
down.
“Pencils down!” Kate ordered at the end of 5 minutes and strode
behind her students to look at their answers.
Brendan had managed to list 4 faults and Lou only 3.
“Let’s start with you Brendan.
Sonia, show him your list” Kate said.
Sonia started writing a list of Brendan’s faults on the blackboard
until it was full.
She picked up Brendan’s list and studied it before crumpling the
paper and throwing it in the wastebasket.
“I don’t believe you’re taking this seriously Brendan.
Come here!” she ordered turning around to open the cupboard.
She pulled out a long thin cane and began swishing it menacingly.
“Six of the best.
Bend over and touch your toes” she ordered.
Brendan started to mouth something but stopped when Sonia barked out
“Bend over this minute or I’ll double the dose!”
Brendan assumed the position and felt the material of his shorts
tighten against his backside as he stretched down to touch his toes.
Lou looked on with his jaws agape as Sonia stood beside her husband
and lined up the cane squarely across her target.
She raised her arm and with an expert flick of the wrist lashed the
cane against his friend’s scantily clad rear.
Brendan yelped and straightened up clutching his seat.
“Jeez that hurt!” he complained.
Sonia glared at him impatiently.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to stand up.
Now bend over and remain bent over.
I will start over.”
Brendan bent over again and this time Sonia took a step back for
more power.
She delivered 3 hard strokes in rapid succession producing a loud
trio of
“OW” s from her husband.
Sonia paused to let the sting set in and stepped back to deliver a
single, harder stroke.
Brendan grunted and was clearly having trouble staying in position
as he awaited the final 2 strokes.
But his wife was in no rush.
He could feel the stinging intensify inside his shorts as time
passed.
Sonia lined up the cane teasingly before delivering the final two
and hardest strokes.
Brendan howled and bucked forward as he jumped to his feet clutching
his rear with both hands.
Sonia looked at him ” Sit down and write down those faults 10 times.
You’d better have them memorized by next week mister!” she seethed.
Brendan hobbled to his seat and sat down.
He shot back up as his tender rear touched the hard stool.
“Sit down I said or I’ll give you another six!” Sonia scolded.
Brendan grimaced as he eased himself onto his seat and began writing.
Lou looked up at Kate as she examined his list.
She slowly tore it into pieces as he looked on.
“Hardly worthwhile reading is it Lou?'” she said.
“No Ma’am” he replied meekly.
Lou squirmed on his seat as he watched Kate list his 10 faults on
the blackboard beside Brendan’s.
Kate finished and turned around to face Lou.
“Get up here and face the board.” She yelled.
Sonia chuckled to herself as she watched this strong, tough man
scramble to his feet and scurry to the board.
“Study them hard Lou” Kate said as she reached for a thick leather
strap in the cupboard.
She stepped behind Lou and placing a hand in the waistband of his
shorts roughly yanked them down to his knees to reveal his muscular
buttocks and thighs.
Brendan gasped at the sight before him.
“Bend over the desk” Kate ordered curtly.
Lou leaned over the desk and stuck out his bare butt.
“Read them out – one at a time ” Kate ordered as she folded the
strap to her liking.
Lou read out the first fault and was rewarded with a resounding
whack of the strap across his bare backside.
“AAAAW” he moaned as he bucked forward.
“Now the next one” Kate said calmly.
Lou read each one of the remaining faults and received a hefty whack
of the strap after each one.
At the end the thick red outlines of the strap were was painted
on his behind .
“Now sit down and start writing ” Kate ordered.
Lou grimaced as he restored his shorts and moaned as he sat down.
Both husbands squirmed uncomfortably until their task was complete.
“That concludes the first lesson gentlemen.
You may remove your uniforms” Sonia announced.
Painfully Lou and Brandon shuffled to the corner where their clothes
hung and eased themselves out of their uniforms.
The women admired their husbands’ nakedness lustily.
Brendan’s backside was red and striped from the cane and Lou’s still
a blazing red from the strap.
As the men reached for their clothes two female hands stopped them.
Brendan and Lou turned around and their faces lit up at the sight
before them.
Sonia and Kate had removed their dresses and stood seductively
before them wearing only black silk panties, garter belt, stockings
and heels.
They each melted into the arms of their naked husbands and kissed
them passionately.
Their men needed no encouragement.
Lou picked up Kate and sat her on top of the antique desk while
Sonia leapt into Brendan’s arms and wrapped her legs around his
waist.
The classroom was soon filled with groans and squeals of ecstasy as
the two couples made passionate love in the “classroom”
CHAPTER 6
“I’d say that went rather well – cheers ” Sonia chirped as she
clinked her wineglass against Kate’s.
“I’ll drink to that!” Kate chimed.
It was day 2 since the inaugural lesson of their “Husband School”
and the two teachers were getting together to compare notes.
Kate reported that Lou’s attitude had changed almost immediately.
He still spent a lot of time watching and playing sports but had
started to help out with the housework and his language and demeanor
were more polite.
Sonia had a similar tale to tell and Brendan was even coming home
from work earlier and calling her during the day.
Another thing the wives agreed on was that their husbands were very
aware that they were keeping score and a report card would be issued
at Saturday’s upcoming lesson.
Both Lou and Brendan were consulting the list of faults they had
copied down on a daily basis to prepare for Saturday’s test.
The ladies also happily reported that their husbands were still
feeling the effects of the punishment they received at school.
“Lou still has some marks on his backside and the tops of his thighs
so he is skipping his visits to the gym for now in case someone
spots them in the shower!” Kate revealed.
Sonia laughed.
“Brendan still has the stripes from the caning ” she added proudly.
“He had to spend all day yesterday at a meeting and blamed his
constant squirming on a bad back! If only they knew his wife had
caned his backside!
Sonia topped up their glasses with more wine as they started to work
on the next lesson.
Sonia tapped her toes impatiently on the tiled floor of the
classroom as she eyed the clock on the wall.
Kate stood with arms folded looking sternly at the door awaiting the
appearance of Lou and Brendan.
It was 9.10am and the men were told clearly that class started at
9.00am sharp.
Kate and Sonia had already been there since 7.30am preparing for the
day.
Two more minutes passed before the door opened and Lou and Brendan
meekly entered.
Their wives did not have to say a word as the expression on their
faces said it all.
The leather paddles in their wives hands made it clear what was in
store for their tardiness.
Sonia and Kate strode forward and pulled out the chairs at their
husbands’ desks and sat on them.
Each woman beckoned their man to stand beside them with a curled
index finger.
Once Brendan and Lou were standing obediently at their wife’s side
their shorts were lowered to their knees.
The women looked at their men sternly as they patted their laps in
unison.
Without a word Brendan and Lou draped themselves over the laps.
The sound of leather slapping bare skin filled the room and it was
not long before the howls and yells of Brendan and Lou added to the
cacophony.
They squirmed and kicked their legs to no avail as Sonia and Kate
blistered their bottoms with the paddles.
The lesson commenced with Brendan and Lou sitting most uncomfortably
as they wrote, ” I will be punctual ” 100 times in their notebook.
The day did not get any better for the two men as they moved on to
the test on their faults.
Their Teachers had added a little curve to the test asking their
students not only to list their 10 faults but also to write how they
can improve.
The task proved to be quite a challenge for the pair.
For their feeble efforts they both received 6 stinging strokes of
the cane on the seat of their shorts which added considerably to the
discomfort in their already well-walloped backsides.
The lesson on courtesy went well until Brendan added his sarcastic
remarks and Lou constantly interrupted asking to break for lunch.
The two gentlemen ate lunch standing up after receiving another 6
strokes of the cane – this time on the bare bottom!
Having had enough of their husbands’ stubbornness Kate and Sonia
held nothing back and made sure the caning was one they would
remember for some time.
Up to this point Lou and Brendan had been able to maintain some
composure as they accepted their punishment but the bare bottom
caning pushed both of them over their limit.
They howled, cried out and begged loudly as they each received their
6 strokes.
CHAPTER 8
The afternoon session saw quite an improvement and Brendan and Lou’s
aching behinds had a much-needed reprieve.
When class concluded the gentlemen received a stern lecture about
their behavior at the morning session and were ordered to remove
their shorts and stand in opposite corners of the room with their
hands on their head and their flaming bottoms on display.
When their husbands were in position Kate and Sonia stood behind
them and continued the lecture.
As they did so they delivered stinging slaps to their students red
behinds to emphasize certain words.
Sonia and Kate stood back together taking in the sight of their
husbands taut and well chastised bottoms.
Downstairs in the classroom Sonia and Brendan did not have the
luxury of a bed so stood naked together in each other’s arms.
“Let’s go home……. I’m not finished with you yet mister!” Sonia said
teasingly.
Brendan laughed and gave his wife a playful slap on her shapely
derriere.
“OOO!…..you’ll pay for that mister” Sonia cooed.
“I hope so ” Brendan replied as he started dressing.
CHAPTER 9
As the education of their Husband’s continued over the weeks Kate
and Sonia could see the improvement both at home and in the
classroom.
Lou and Brendan were slowly becoming the loving, considerate and
respectful husbands their wives hoped them to be.
In addition the sex life of both couples was so fantastic it was
almost off the scale.
Needless to say Kate and Sonia were two very satisfied wives but
though improved their men still had a long way to go so the weekly
lessons continued.
Like a typical pair of schoolboys Lou and Brendan always found a way
to do something that was not to the liking of their Teachers and
earned themselves at least a couple of bottom blisterings during
each lesson.
Kate and Sonia were by now very experienced in the art of corporal
punishment.
Whether it be the cane, paddle or strap they made sure their men
would be nursing sore rumps sometimes for days after their lesson.
Lou and Brendan didn’t complain.
Sure the punishments were tough to take and left their butts sore
and tender but afterwards the insatiable sexual appetite of their
beautiful wives and the explosive sex made it all worth while.
In fact Lou and Brendan were quite disappointed that after a couple
of months their wives announced that the upcoming lesson would be
their last one.
To celebrate their graduation the two couples arranged to go to
dinner together after the lesson.
“Just make sure we go somewhere that has soft cushions on the
seats!” Lou joked as he looked at his classmate.
To their surprise, despite their best efforts to earn a whacking,
Lou and Brendan went through the entire lesson with their rumps
completely unscathed.
As the couples hugged each other excitedly at the end of the class
Brendan commented ” Hope you guys aren’t going soft on us…..we
actually went through a whole lesson without getting our butts
tanned!”
Kate and Sonia smiled at each other mischievously producing puzzled
looks from their hubbies.
The dinner at a swanky restaurant was great and the guys even
arranged for a limousine to drop them off and pick them up at the
restaurant so they could all relax and enjoy some wine and drinks.
By the time they were finishing off their champagne in the comfort
of their limousine ride home both couples were necking like
teenagers.
“Now now boys that’s enough of that you have a meeting with your
Teacher when we get home.” Kate announced.
“Yes – you guys did not behave very well in class today and you both
know it ” Sonia added producing that familiar look of bewilderment
on their husband’s faces.
Kate wagged a finger at Lou ” You deserved a sound bare bottom
caning today Lou but what you’re going to get when we get home is
going to last a lot longer I can tell you!” she warned sternly.
“That goes for you too mister ” Sonia echoed as she pointed a
warning finger at Brendan.
“You see gentlemen as we can’t punish you in class any more we had
to come up with a way to do it in the comfort of her home ” Sonia
explained.
“Kate and I did a little shopping this week and came up with just
the thing to keep you guys in line” she went on.
“Tonight gentlemen you will both be getting your first taste of the
back of a nice old-fashioned oak hairbrush” she declared boldly.
“If you guys thought the cane or the paddle stung you are in for
quite a surprise tonight – don’t expect to be sitting down
comfortably for a week – so plan accordingly” Kate said ominously.
The remainder of the drive was somewhat quiet with Lou and Brendan
in a state of shock and anticipation.
The two couples bid each other goodnight as they headed into their
respective homes.
After only a few minutes the scene was set with Sonia and Kate
sitting on the edge of the bed still in their `Teacher’ clothes and
brandishing a large wooden hairbrush in their hand.
Before them with heads bowed stood their naked husbands.
Soon the sound of hardwood cracking repeatedly on well-muscled male
buttocks filled the bedrooms and was even audible on the street
outside.
Unlike their school punishments which had a set amount of strokes
the hairbrush landed relentlessly visiting the same tender sit spot
again and again.
After holding their composure for quite a while the two men began
blubbering like babies as their wives walloped away with venom.
Sonia paused to take a breath and study Brendan’s flaming rear.
Like an artist she proudly viewed the patchwork of reds she had
painted on her husband’s buttocks.
`THWACK!’ ` WHAP!” `WHAP!’ WHACK!”
Brendan let out a shriek and flinched as the final flurry of
stinging swats landed.
When the seemingly endless hairbrushings mercifully ended Lou and
Brendan were both sporting truly blistered bottoms!
They danced helplessly around the room, hopping from foot to foot
vainly trying to rub out the sting in their tails.
Their wives looked on in satisfaction knowing that their husbands’
backsides were going to be burning for quite some time.
CHAPTER 10
Lou and Brendan shuffled their feet and squirmed as they stood in
the corner of their bedrooms, their red asses on display and their
hand on their heads.
Meanwhile Sonia and Kate had removed their outfits and lay sprawled
face down on their beds chatting with each other on the phone.
Occasionally they eyed their distressed husbands to make sure they
remained in position and made no attempt to rub their scorched rears.
The ladies ended their conversation but remained sprawled on the
bed, wearing only tiny thongs which framed their silky globes and
curvaceous hips.
Sonia raised herself up on her elbows letting her firm breasts hang
down seductively.
“You can join me now you naughty boy!” she purred.
“Turn around Lou” Kate ordered sternly.
Lou slowly turned and his penis stood to attention at the sight of
Kate on the bed.
Both the red-bottomed husbands wasted no time in leaping into bed
with their wives for an evening of passionate sex that lasted for
hours to come.
CHAPTER 11
Kate yawned as she poured a morning coffee for Sonia.
“Someone didn’t get much sleep last night ” her friend teased.
Kate blushed “Paddling Lou’s backside last night really turned me on.
I was insatiable and he just couldn’t get enough of me.
We went at it like minks until dawn!” she declared.
Sonia nodded proudly ” That hairbrush is going to be getting a lot of
Kate put a finger to her chin and pondered for a moment.
“College for Husbands” she announced to cackles of joy from Sonia.
As soon as he was out of view of the Blackwell sisters , Todd
painfully dismounted and rubbed the seat of his jeans.
It didn’t help much.
The effects of the hairbrushing Susan Blackwell had given him were
really beginning to take their toll.
The only option was to walk his horse home .
However , even that was painful as the rough denim brushed against
his tender skin with every step.
“Darn it !” he said angrily and kicked off his boots to remove his
jeans.
He felt ridiculous walking home bare-assed but it was bearable and
there was nobody there to see anyway.
Back at the river an envious Julie was pushing a very smug looking
Susan for details.
“Boy did I tan his ass good with that hairbrush Julie…..– he won’t be
able to sit for a week!
…but what a gorgeous set of buns he has….so firm and hard…”” Susan
teased .
Julie felt hot just listening to her sister.
“How did you manage to get him over your knee anyway?’ Julie asked.
Susan laughed “Typical male , all power and bluster. Once I’d tripped
him to the ground it was easy.”
Todd was enjoying the cool breeze blowing against his raw backside
and didn’t see the cloud of dust behind him which was the Blackwell
sisters.
Susan had caught up with her sister and rode alongside her trying her
best to dismount her.
Julie fought back , grabbing a bunch of Susan’s hair and pushing her
away.
Their duel continued until they were almost right on top of a
startled Todd.
The sisters pulled up , dismounted and launched into a full fledged
catfight.
Completely forgetting his state of undress , Todd secured the horses
and then turned to break up the fight.
The ride had tired out Susan and Julie so there was little steam in
their punches allowing Todd to take them by the scruff of their
shirts and pull them apart.
It was only then that he realized he was without his jeans !
***
Susan and Julie remained dangling over the fence arguing with each
other fiercely until
Todd returned.
The sisters turned their heads to look at him and were silenced by
the sight of Susan’s hairbrush in Todd’s hand.
Todd hauled the pair off the fence and back onto their feet.
Susan and Julie stood before Todd with heads bowed in shame.
“Get those clothes off now – both of you !” Todd bellowed.
“AW NOOOO….” Julie and Susan chimed in protest .
Todd was in no mood to repeat his order and leaned menacingly closer
to the sisters.
Susan and Julie were soon busy wiggling their shapely hips out of
their tight jeans and unbuttoning their shirts.
*** the sisters stood
before him stark naked now , making half-hearted attempts to cover
their modesty with their arms and hands.
For a moment the sight of these two beauties took his mind away from
the task in hand but he quickly re-focused.
Todd took a step toward Julie , picking her up and easily tucking her
under his arm.
Her shapely bottom jiggled and her legs kicked out as Todd raised the
hairbrush and commenced a brisk spanking which soon turned Julies
curvy bottom a flaming red.
Julie wailed as the swats rained down again and again n her tender
tush .
She pounded on Todd’s back and kicked her legs wildly , which only
served to give Todd a fine view of her female charms and also
allowing him to land a few well aimed swats to the tender area inside
her cheeks.
Julie yelped loudly as the brush warmed the sensitive area.
Releasing Julie , he ignored her tantalizing spanking jig and took
hold of Susan.
“Now Todd ….take it easy now….I……AAAAAHHH!” she pleaded as she was
scooped up and placed in the same position under Todd’s arm as her
sister had occupied.
Meanwhile Julie grimaced and rubbed her bottom cheeks furiously as
she watched her sister flail and kick in vain as Todd prepared to
spank her.
Todd smiled as he took in the delightful sight of Susan’s jiggling
globes and shapely legs before raising the hairbrush high in the air.
`WHAP !’ `WHAP !”WHAP !’`WHAP !’
“OW!” “YEOOOW! ” “GEEZ THAT BUUUURNZZZ!”
The hairbrush danced all over Susan’s jiggling cheeks under Todd’s
expert direction.
The swats were landing so fast and furious on her bottom she could
barely catch her breath.
The burning was almost unbearable.
For the sake of fairness Todd made sure Susan received the last few
swats in that same tender area inside her cheeks which caused Julie
such distress.
Susan’s wild kicking provided easy access to the target area.
Susan swore and screeched just as loudly as her sister .
Satisfied that Susan’s rear was as well toasted as Julie’s ,Todd let
her go to perform a wild spanking dance which rivaled that of Julie’s.
***
Many thanks to the several hundred respondents to the previous spanking surveys. We can learn a lot from our fellow spankos.
A link to this survey also appears in the sidebar on the right side of the page.
As always, I will share the results of the ‘Let’s Talk Spanking’ Survey here.
– Dana
<p>&amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Loading…&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;gt;</p>
Two hundred and eighty-nine of you took the time to complete the most recent ‘Spanking Preferences’ Survey. Thank you, two hundred and eighty-nine times.
35% of respondents said that they participate in spanking occasionally with a play partner.
22% play occasionally with their relationship partner.
Thirty-nine respondents (about 13%) said that they are currently in a Domestic Discipline relationship. Nice!
And forty (14%) said that they are inactive, and do not participate in spanking play at all. Not so nice.
Find someone you like and spank them. Or ask them to spank you.
Twenty-eight percent said that they either do not participate in role-play, or only participate rarely. The other 72% are up for just about anything.
Only twenty-eight of you (about 10%) said that you prefer no scolding with your spankings. The other ninety percent were pretty evenly divided between a little and a lot.
46% prefer a hard spanking that leaves a few marks (7-8 on the Sensitivity Scale). Only four respondents said that they prefer their spankings at the 1-2 level, and…surprisingly…only four said that they like to go 10+ on theirs.
Nearly half of you are on FetLife, and 38% on Facebook. Find one another, network, make friends…just look at how much you all have in common. ~
– Dana
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
After having concluded that I was among approximately thirteen people left in the industrialized world without a Facebook page, I’ve acquiesced. I will add to the page – and figure out how to find people – eventually.
If you’re interested in adding me, my brand new profile is located HERE
But I’m telling you right now…NO POKING.
– Dana
Finally giving in to the retail urge, I ordered an inexpensive HD camcorder, a couple of lights, and enough memory to record numerous hours of…well, spanking.
I have enjoyed so much making and sharing my spanking videos and I am looking forward to seeing what I can do with something more than the spare bedroom and cam on my Mac. (Although the boy’s butt looks good no matter what the pixellation..)
The waiting is the most difficult. After it arrives, I will have to learn to use it all, and correctly. This process may take somewhere between two days and several weeks depending on the size of the manual(s), as I do not ‘do’ tech. Beyond the learning curve…lots and lots of spanking video.
Segue to: Your Opinion
While I intend to ALWAYS provide free spanking videos, photos, and other content, I have been considering also producing content for sale. I am of the opinion that too much of a good thing is not necessarily great, but I also believe that there is more than enough interest in spanking video to oblige a little more content..
My question relates to the ways in which video is distributed. Options range from sites like clips4sale, which caters to just about any type of adult video, to Spanking Library, which caters to my fellow spankos. Both of these sites operate on a pay-per-video basis. Then there are the so-called premium sites, where members pay a set monthly rate for all-access to content. Also, I am a firm believer (yes, still) in hard media…what we now call DVD’s.
There are pros and cons for all of the options. My main concern with membership sites is the necessity to produce a large amount of content, regularly. I don’t always FEEL like giving a spanking…and sometimes I feel like spanking everyone all at once. However, the amount of content available on the clips sites (even the genre-specific ones) is nearly overwhelming and ‘stores’ seem to get lost in the shuffle. And…do people even buy DVD’s anymore?
I would like to know what you think. Leave your advice in the comment box below so that others may also benefit from your wisdom.
(The ‘vote’ and ‘share’ links are now active at the bottom of each post, as well.)
***
I am also set to begin acquiring furniture, decor, and other items for the planned domestic playspace.
Fall seems so close, and there are a thousand things to do, but I am crossing my fingers…wish me luck!
– Dana
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
Only six days left to submit your entry for the ‘Person Place and Thing’ Spanking Story Contest. The winner will receive a free spanking session with me, Dana Kane.
To enter, read the contest details HERE.
(*Since I will be visiting the east coast again soon, it IS possible for those around the NYC and Boston areas to collect the ‘prize’ for this contest, in addition to Los Angeles-area entrants.)
– Dana
Thank you so much; thank you seems too simplistic of a way to express my deeply held gratitude. Nevertheless, thank you for the time and care you took in preparing for our session; it was clear you understood exactly what we were looking for and what it was that I really needed. It is one thing to fulfill a role-playing fantasy but it is another to be able to successfully fulfill a request like ours. While the punishment aspect of our session was significant, it was the time you took to listen to my story that was truly cleansing.
I cannot express how much I did not want to repeat those words after each stroke, if there was anytime I wanted to bolt out of the room it was at that point. It was very difficult for me to say those words and even more difficult to look at myself while saying them. I can honestly tell you those phrases are burned into my subconscious and will forever be in the forefront of my mind every time I am tempted to repeat my past behaviors. I earnestly listened to what you said, I took it to heart and I am committed to not repeating my past actions.
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