Extended Drumroll and semi-lame excuses

 

Everyone,

 

I know the blog’s been a bit content light of late, and I also know that some of you are waiting a bit longer for email replies, too. The reason I know these things is obvious : they’re my responsibilities, and I’m running a *teensy weensy* bit behind.

Between random minor illness, an enormous workload (a bit more on that in a second), and a continuing inability to clone myself, I find myself with less time – which is strange because I know for a fact that there are still 24 hours in every single day. Anyway, the point is that I’m working on it all; I’ll get that inbox cleared soon (and then it’ll likely fill right up again) and think of something spank-witty to say here as well. In the meantime, please exercise your patience muscles and, if at all possible, refrain from writing an email or two to express your sympathy at my behind-ed-ness…I promise you it will not help. ~

 

imlate

 

One of the reasons I’ve been so busy is that I have a really cool/awesome announcement to make soon, which I think is going to be equally as fun/cool for you to read – and within the next week or so I’ll be posting it here, so stay tuned for the upcoming awesome arrival.

So, please feel free to spend a little time re-watching a couple dozen free videos, re-reading a few hundred spanking stories, and generally poking around the blog- there’s bound to be something you haven’t seen yet, right?

 

Behind-ed-ly yours,

–  Dana

 

Spanko Distractions : Coming Soon PUZZLER

Everyone,

I found this fun little program which allows you to upload a photo and turn it into a virtual jigsaw puzzle and thought it’d be a new and interesting pain-in-the-spanko-tushie way to sneak preview upcoming spanking videos.

Tell me what you think?…

– Dana

P.S. There’s a fun little timer attached, so see just how quickly you can get it put together. If you’re proud of your time, post it in the comments area – but no cheating!

 

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

 

Jealousy

Preview Video:

 

(POV) Barracuda : The Interview

NEW DVDs!

Marital Discipline III

Marital Discipline 3 with Dana Kane

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

 

Brand New Ass

Dana Kane Brand New Ass

 

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

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

Conversations with Spankos : One question. A million answers.

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

 

Readers,

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

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

Where does IT come from?

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

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

Maybe we can all figure it out together…

 

–  Dana

Es el paraíso (Unrelated to Spanking but totally related to happiness)

Readers,

I’ve taken a fair few vacations, and they’ve all been nice enough – the Smoky Mountains are gorgeous in the fall when leaves change colors, and there’s a cool/funky nude river-beach just outside Portland where I once spent the day. Sitting on a big deck on the back end of a ship in the middle of big water is pretty damn amazing, too. There has never been a time when I’ve been ‘away’ that I’ve not been happy about that away-ness in some way, and I knew that this vacation would be just the same.

Away-ness makes me breathe more deeply for some reason, and I become adventurous, something which I don’t consider myself to be nearly enough in everyday life (although you may disagree). There’s something about getting out of one’s comfort zone and taking chances – even if, for me, taking chances means swimming underwater and drinking alcoholic beverages at lunch – that makes us feel that much more alive.

This past week I was Super Alive.

 

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A week in small-town-anywhere will likely force a busy person to take things more slowly, but this small town is something special. We spent a week eating, strolling, swimming, and napping, surrounded by the gorgeous Caribbean, lush mangrove jungles, and one of the most spectacular places on the planet – the Great Barrier Reef.

Instead of doing the typical tourist thing, we decided to hop off the beaten path just a bit and ended up having quite possibly the best time of our lives. We rented a private home for the week, and I should say right at the outset that this place was Obnoxiously Fabulous – two full floors of indoor living area topped by a 3rd floor outdoor patio, pool, and party area, with a 4th floor rooftop observation deck. I should also say right at the outset that this was, by far, the least expensive vacation rental I’ve ever taken.

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I could type for a very long time about the variety of birds seen and heard from this deck, but you’d have to see it for yourself. Also, the neighbors had chickens, roosters, and at least one turkey, so the usual sound of traffic, ambulances, and other noise pollution were replaced by a definite organic, winged cacophony that didn’t let up even at night.

Nighttime also brought out the geckos, gigantic prisma-color moths, and goodness knows what else scurrying around out in the mangrove directly – and I mean directly as in right up against the home’s perimeter wall – behind us.

Can I tell you how wonderful and wild and perfect this place is? There’s a crazy mix of very old, small, rickety homesteads, built-up homes like the one I rented, and cool little Mexican hotels – no huge resorts in the town proper and no way to insulate oneself from the local culture…exactly what I wanted.

One morning this happened:

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And all was right with the world.

And then that evening, this happened:

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Feel that?

Now let’s move on to one of the main reasons I almost always choose Mexico: the food. I believe (and I know that Anthony Bourdain would disagree and I vehemently do NOT care) that Latin America turns out the most consistently delicious food on the planet. In my opinion, as many of you already know, there are few foods more perfect than the taco. A simple corn tortilla rolled around nearly anything – how could you possibly go wrong? There is no lime shortage in Mexico, either, and I didn’t see a single bruised, black, shriveled avocado the entire time. Things are Lush and Fat in the Yucatan, and the food reflects the bounty of all that humidity.

I ate the hands-down-best-ever-on-the-planet shrimp cocktail – twice, actually – and likely downed more guacamole than anyone should rightfully admit; there were organic eggs for breakfast and mangoes so ripe and sweet that you could smell ’em right through the skin. And the habañeros? Ohholyhell…

There are no photos of the food. This should give you some indication of just how little time it spent sitting in front of me.

Oh, and cocktails. I should probably mention the cocktails. Since I don’t usually drink at all, any beverage stronger than fresh, sweet iced tea is likely going to make me a little wonky; I was wonky a fair few times last week.

It’s the Mojitos, you see, and the sun, and the sea – they conspire together to make you believe that nothing would taste better at this very moment than some really strong rum, watered down a teeny bit with a few drops of water and a couple bruised mint leaves. Do not be fooled by the steaming coolness rising from that tall glass, my friend. It is a ruse to lure in the unwary drinker and make her need a nap at 2pm. I believe I had a total of about ten alcoholic beverages during the course of the week, which should cover my quota well into 2017.

When you order your Mojito on the beach and drink it while smoking a cigar, the nice man brings you an ashtray that he just carved out of a green coconut:

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I loved that man.

Hell, I loved everyone I met. Totally enamored with Latin culture, language, and people, I always feel pretty damn at home here, even though my understanding of the language is woefully inadequate (something which I plan to change immediately). We met several folks who live and work in the fishing village who are what one would call the Salt of the Earth, including one cool cat tour guide who seemed to know everyone and everything going on at any given moment. He even helped me find those cigars.

Speaking of those cigars: One needs certain things no matter where one is, but those essentials change depending on the surroundings. I’ve found it to be true that anytime I’m in the Caribbean, I need Cuban cigars. This is likely a reaction to a decades-long embargo in the U.S. which causes me to have the ‘want what I can’t have’ response, so every time I’m there I buy and smoke with abandon.

Also coffee:

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Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the Sea..

That’s the reason for every single decision I make in terms of vacation travel – if there’s no beach involved, I’m likely highly uninterested. I know, I know, there are gorgeous places all over the world; ancient civilizations and art and culture and food and terrain that I’ve never experienced which could and likely would surely outdo my beloved Mexican Caribbean in a way or two. Again, I do not care. I am willfully and endlessly small-minded in this area.

Because I spent a large amount of my early life hanging out at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico and various rivers, ponds, sandpits, and the like, I’m obsessively attracted to water. I can sit, clear-headed, for hours, staring at the line where the water meets the sky, not a care in the world. Add in the fact that at NO time during my life did I ever experience water clean enough for one to actually see one’s feet when standing at ankle-depth, and you have a perfect storm of beach-bum-itis. And baby, I got it bad.

This time I did something that I thought I’d never do – I went underwater. Pretty far underwater, too. About 20 feet, which to me seems like a really long way down when there aren’t gills involved.

Also sharks.

But I did it. Snuba. Like a cross between snorkel and scuba, these two nice boys hook you up to a really long air hose that’s attached to your very own floaty thing; they give you some flipper thingies for your feet (try to keep up, I know this is getting technical..) and teach you how to do the air-breathing without drowning, which is vitally important. They also teach you hand signals to be used underwater, since you can’t talk through your air-breathing thingy (although I did yell ‘shit’ when I saw a large barracuda, all that came out was “bubblebubblebubble”). This was a super exciting little excursion and I got to see lots of really beautiful coral, a teeny bright-red ray, lobsters, aforementioned barracuda, and even an undersea cenote (google it). When it was done, however, I immediately remembered that I am 41 and don’t swim in the ocean often (see Las Vegas on the map?) – because my entire body decided to basically shut down on the walk back to the rental house, where I napped the nap of the partially-dead-by-snuba.

That was okay, too, though, because it was the perfect excuse to go back for a second massage..

 

I’d like to say, here and now, that it’s likely I will live in Latin America sometime during the course of my life.

This is why:

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There is absolutely nothing you can say to top that, mi amigo. Don’t even try.

 

 

Random post- spanking photos

 

Here are a few random post- spanking photos from recent playtimes:

 

Dana Kane Spanking Photo
He asked for it..I promise.

 

Dana Kane spanking photo
This one is a couple days old..

 

Agatha Delicious Spanking photo
..and here’s a shot from Agatha Delicious’ Twitter feed, the day after her first spanking ever!

Give to your favorite charity every time you shop at Amazon Smile (Unrelated to Spanking. Duh.)

 

Admit it, you shop at Amazon.com. The sooner we get real with one another the better. Yes, we all do it – convenience shopping; they bring it right to the door, for goodnesssakes! 

Since you’re going to do it anyway, and since the experience is EXACTLY the same, try doing your Amazon shopping from the Amazon Smile landing page.  All you have to do is choose the charity that you’d like to receive a percentage of your purchase total and, every time you check out after that, Amazon will donate to your chosen charity. I’ve designated Community Cat Coalition of Clark County (C5-tnr.org), the local feral cat program.

There’s absolutely no reason to not do this, and you just have to remember to bookmark your Smile landing page, so that all your purchases are eligible.

 

Happy shopping (and giving),

–  Dana

Who Spanks?

Readers,

One thing I hear repeatedly goes something like this, “I wish that there was someone local…”.

In a continuing effort to help spankos in all areas find someone compatible with whom to play, I’m again requesting that my readers, friends, and playmates leave recommendations for other disciplinarians.

There’s a list near the bottom of the right-hand sidebar here, which lists several ladies offering disciplinary sessions in and around the U.S., but there is always room for more. Please take a look at the current listings and, if you’re aware of someone I’ve missed, please leave the name and link to a website in the comments area below. I’ll add anyone verifiable, with the disclaimer that I’m not necessarily associated with or promoting anyone in particular, simply trying to help making connections easier. Also, if you’re aware of any dead links or inactive ladies on the list, please do let me know and I’ll update with current information.

Thanks for all your input here, as always,

– Dana

Give til it Hurts Raffle #2 : DanaKaneSpanks.com 1 Year Membership WINNER!

 

Everyone,

We’ve had another wildly successful fundraising event in the Give Til it Hurts Raffle #2, raising $845 for animal charities!

And since it’s so much fun to give things away (as our generous donors have again proven), here’s the video showing who’s won the 1 year membership to DanaKaneSpanks.com, and the runner up winner of a 30 day membership:

 

 

Congratulations to the winners, and thanks to everyone who participated. Below, all donor pseudonyms and their contributions:

 

Dana’s World Record Holder  –  $50

Lab Saver  –  $25

Naughty Tom  –  $25

Arapahoe  –  $25

GreenEyes  –  $300

Rigel  –  $25

Kalman  –  $100

Arrogant Brat  –  $50

NJSpank  –  $150

Oldog  –  $25

Randy Lee  –  $20

Danielle  –  $50

 

And here’s the payoff – all the wonderful animal heroes you’ve helped by participating, and, most importantly, the sweet little animals who’ve benefitted so much from your generosity:

 

City Critters  –  $100

City Critters rescues, rehabilitates, and re-homes cats and dogs in and around New York City. The city’s animal control, collectively called NYC ACC, is one of the country’s most notorious kill-mills, especially cats and pit bull breed dogs. City Critters saved the lives of over 200 cats (and a number of dogs) in 2013, providing everything from medical care, transportation, and shelter rescue, to TNR funding for local groups. Good people working hard in the most populace place in the country.

 

Becky’s Hope  –  $50

We’re revisiting Becky’s Hope, a Texas-based rescue for abused and neglected horses. Becky’s Hope is a small, self-funded horse sanctuary that takes on animals who, without them, wouldn’t have much hope at all. They’re always in need of hay for these big sweeties, so we’ll likely make sure that a little goes to them every time we fundraise.

 

Noah’s Ark Rescue  –  $200

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Dogs who are sick, injured, and abused rarely stand a chance for the expensive medical care they require. And then there’s Noah’s Ark…These folks work tirelessly to provide life-saving medical care to dogs who’d otherwise have no chance at life. Not only does Noah’s Ark provide the funds, but they ferry the dogs to and from multi-state specialists, network to rehome them, and need donations to continue this work more than you can imagine. There isn’t a better definition of selfless than what these folks are doing, every day.

 

C5 (Community Cat Coalition of Clark County) –  $100

The C5 kitty cam – one feral colony’s minder has set up a 24/7 stream of her wards.

C5 is an all-volunteer group in Clark County, Nevada, working to save, spay, and care for the more than 200thousand feral cats in and around Las Vegas. They’re one of my chosen local charities and doing great and important work for the kitties here.

 

Angel City Pit Bulls  –  $145

Almost all cities are pitbull-unfriendly nowadays, although for decades they were considered one of the best, smartest, and most gentle breeds for children (do your homework). Los Angeles is an especially tough place to be a pitbull – or any dog even remotely resembling one – and Angel City does their damndest to save them. Pulling ‘bully’ breeds directly from local L.A. shelters, fostering and rehoming them, and advocating for the breed and public common sense when it comes to these misunderstood and maligned sweeties. I LOVE bullys, and have owned three…every single one of them sweeter and more cuddly than the next.

 

Crash’s Landing  –  $250

260 cats. Crash’s Landing is a nokill cat rescue in Grand Rapids, Michigan, focused specifically on saving, rehabilitating, and giving homes to at-risk stray cats – and they home 260 of the little furballs. With a monthly cost of nearly 15thousand dollars, caring for sick, injured, and terminally ill cats is an expensive but oh-so-terribly loving endeavor. The people who staff and fund places like Crash’s Landing deserve all the help we can give them.

 Please take a few minutes to take a look at all these great groups yourself, and maybe even click on that ‘Donate’ button.

 

**Disclaimer: By sharing names of organizations in receipt of funds donated, neither I nor Dana Kane Films assumes or implies association with any of the above named groups. (This simply because not everyone wants to be publicly associated with someone who does naughty things during daylight hours, and we understand that completely.)

**In the name of clarity, documentation of all monies distributed is available upon request.

**As payment processors charge a hefty percentage of every transaction (yes, ridiculously, even for charitable donations), I’ve decided to start mailing in donations by check rather than allowing Paypal to hedge our hard-earned five percent. Take THAT.

 

 It’s impossible to say often enough how grateful I am for our donor’s participation in the Give Til it Hurts fundraisers – it’s endlessly heartwarming and reassuring to be reminded of all the Really Wonderful People with whom I share this planet. You’re all, quite pointedly, freakin’ awesome.

I’ll be back in summer with another fun and decidedly spanko way to help the critters while participating in something that may net you something relatively exclusive..

–  Dana

I’m a Booster (Totally Unrelated to Spanking)

 

I think Las Vegas is pretty nifty – especially if you’re a visitor here. (Being a resident rocks because we have NO reason whatsoever to go anywhere near the strip, so our lives are just as normal as yours most days of the year.)

I do not, however, really know much about the city. Case in point: I recently put up a post titled “Oh.my.god.video”, about a place called Heart Attack Grill, and asked readers to tell me something about the place.

Ahem..it’s in Las Vegas. Who knew? Apparently everyone but me. (Also, to each his or her own, but this looks absolutely disgusting. In so many ways.)

Just about anyone who visits my fair chosen-home city will know more about it than I do, by the time their friends bail them out of the county jail. However, most visitors also rarely wander far from the strip; you guys and gals see the fountains at the Bellagio, lots of burlesque shows, and some of the world’s largest all-you-can-eat buffets. You get to gaze lovingly at the hundreds of boutique shops, $500 and up haircut joints, and more gambling machines than non-visitors could ever possibly imagine; adventurous souls (who don’t feel as though they’ve risked life and limb enough already by just being in Las Vegas – or possibly by eating at the Heart Attack Grill) can even make a controlled free fall from the top of the Stratosphere tower.

But there’s a whole bunch of really cool, interesting, and, most importantly, non-gambling-related things to do here, too…you just gotta get your ass off the Strip. In an effort to bring attention to a few of the hidden gems you’ve probably missed in your visits here, I’m giving you my short list of favorite places in Las Vegas:

 

The Pinball Hall of Fame

What’s not to love about a huge building full of hundreds of pinball machines, all working, and all ready to play for 25cents? These guys are truly passionate about restoring and maintaining these classic games – the oldest pinball games in the building date back to the 1940’s! My personal favorite: the Kiss pinball machine, which plays awful, out of tune midi files of Detroit Rock City and other hits. This will be the most fun you have in Vegas for less than 20bucks. (Tropicana Blvd. east)

 

Taco y Taco

Go ahead and eat at the fancy restaurants up and down the hotel zone – they’re really fantastic, and will only cost you an arm and possibly your dinner companions leg. They’ll also let you get rascally drunk and behave inappropriately at the dinner table – this is, after all, Sin City. My vote’s going to something cheaper, more peaceful, and much, much, MUCH more tantalizing.

Tacos.

The kind of tacos that I used to get from street vendors in East Los Angeles; the kind of tacos they’ll serve you in Tijuana; the kind of tacos where you say, “I’m really not all that hungry… I’ll take six.” Taco y Taco is a little place in an unassuming shopping complex. There’s no fancy sign and no fancy decor. Your tacos (or burritos, or nachos – the menu’s very small) will be served on thin paper plates. There ARE tons of friendly cooks, employees, and managers – all of whom are proud to tell you about their history, recipes, and the fact that they’ve already been voted best tacos in the city, even though they’ve been open just over a year. Go there. Get in a taxi if you have to, just go there. (Tropicana east)

 

Springs Preserve

180 acres of Las Vegas valley real estate, flora, fauna, geology, and QUIET. Springs Preserve walking trails showcase the area’s natural history with flower gardens, interactive exhibits, and knowledgeable guides throughout the preserve. It’s a nice respite from the sound of slot machines and all that sequins.

 

The High Roller

The High Roller

Okay, this one’s definitely not off the beaten path, and probably not cheap, either. But it’s so very cool that I had to mention it, anyway. The High Roller is a brand new, ginormous (the world’s largest, I think) ferris wheel/observation thingy just built in The Linq. Although I’m not a fan of heights, this looks like something I may be willing to do, maybe, just for what have to be absolutely breathtaking views of the valley and surrounding mountains. (Also, I find the idea of getting getting a pod to oneself and giving a spanking while overlooking the entire Las Vegas valley wildly amusing. Remember, you read the idea here first, as someone will certainly eventually pull this stunt off, and hopefully there’ll be substantiating video.)

 

Tonight I found a great way for me (and you, too) to see what’s going on in the city – not just who’s playing at Ceasar’s and what Britney’s wearing, but lots of other cool information on Las Vegas, the ‘culture’ of the city, and it’s denizens. Vegas Chatter calls themselves ‘a daily users guide to the ins and outs of the potlatch and pomp that is Sin City.’

That appears to be pretty accurate.

So if you’re thinking of visiting our fair(ly sandy) city, and if you have a little free time between spankings (don’t act like you’re going to come all the way here and not get a spanking. You’d have to be crazy.) to fill with educated wandering around, peruse VegasChatter.com.

 

–  Dana

Re-visiting Big Bang Theory

 

Lots of us have seen the Sheldon spanks Amy scene on Big Bang Theory. I’ve shared it here, because I love the whole ‘real’ discipline/granny gown/longing-type thing they do. This scene caused quite an uproar, even outside the spanking community, and got a lot of press in the process. I’ve re-added the original scene, then the blooper reel (which is really hilarious) from the spanking scene, followed by Jim Parsons talking about – and demonstrating – the spanking with Conan O’Brien and Andy Richter. Even if you don’t watch the show, it’s great stuff. 

Enjoy!

 

The actual scene:

 

 

Here’s the blooper reel:

Spanking bloopers start at 1:50..

 

 

And HERE is the ‘re-enactment’ from Conan O’Brien’s show:

Future Spank story entry – out of this world~

Readers,
Enjoy this fun entry to the Future Spank contest – I did!
–  Dana
By 2,500 A.D. men had turned our planet into a state of constant warfare.  Young men were taken from their families at the age of 6 and raised by the state where they were taught sports and activities designed to enhance military skills.  By the time they were 16 they were conscripted into the military where they lived in barracks and remained soldiers until they were 62.  Fossil fuels were being rationed and renewable energy proved to be a boondoggle and couldn’t be sustained without government subsidies.  Our planet had entered another mini ice age similar to the period when General Washington wintered over at Valley Forge during the American Revolution.  Because of the colder climate we weren’t able to grow as much food and the world population decreased.  Just the opposite of what happened during the medieval period of global warming when Greenland was green and the warm climate allowed a surplus of food to be produced and the world’s population increased.

My name is Boudice and I was able to unite the women of our area with a vision of a better future.  Our borders were secure and there was no need to expand.  My plan was to submit the men to my vision of peace.  I organized the women to withhold sex with their mates until they submitted to our two demands; the end of warfare and election of women to political power.  Over the next years voters realized that women made the best political leaders and we were in total charge of our government.  Men became submissive to women and wars stopped.

That is about the time I discovered an old manuscript from the early 1900’s written by Dorothy Spencer.  She was a leading authority on marital harmony and the lost art of spanking.  She advocated that couples agree to spankings to clear the air.  The spanking would sincerely benefit the party at fault and not lead to dangerous quarrels- when the spanking is over the situation is resolved.  According to her plan revenge, oppression, force, and violence are omitted.  The idea is to administer punishment and avoid arguments that can lead to divorce court.  The plan calls for willful submission to a cooperative system of beneficial discipline.  Spankings should never be administered in anger and men are to be spanked with wooden paddles.  Punishments were to be painful so that the man being spanked would not want to repeat the experience.

The Spencer spanking plan was written into our law codes.  Every willing woman was issued a Spencer style spanking paddle with the authority to apply it to any adult male exhibiting aggressive behavior.  Tracking devices were inserted in the forearms of all males when they reached their 18th birthday.  Any man committing even minor acts of aggression if confronted by a paddle carrying disciplinarian was immediately identified by his tracking device and could choose either jail time or an immediate pants down paddling.  Most men avoided these public paddlings; but, a few seemed to have a strange need for an occasional spanking. They didn’t seem to enjoy the actual spanking but always returned for more  You could tell from their expressions that the spankings were painful but they apparently received some release from the pressures of the day after they were allowed to pull up their pants and continue on their way.

Today on my way home from the government health club I stopped by a food outlet and the young man in front of me argued about his ration card with the government service agent.  I grabbed him by his ear, lowered his pants and briefs to around his knees, bent him over the counter, announced that he would receive 10 spanks for his rude aggressive behavior, and told him that if he didn’t stay in position I would start my count again.  When I finished this 20 year old man was crying uncontrollably and his entire bottom was one bright red welt.  You could make out the imprint of the holes from my paddle!  I don’t think he was one of the men who has a strange need for an occasional paddling.

Now a little more about me.  I am a 35 years old 5′ 11″ tall and an avid body builder.  I have very little body fat due to daily workouts and diet.  These attributes aided me with my leadership during the revolutionary changes in our society.  As one of five Directors and a member of the Senate I wield much political power.  I have a civil union agreement with my mate Eric.  He is very fit like me and a type A male.  Because of this he feels the sting of my paddle about three times a month.  He hates these paddlings as much as I enjoy giving them.

It was brought to my attention that he was involved in an altercation over sharing Nautilus equipment at our government run health center.  When I returned to our housing pod without changing out of my skin tight yoga pants I put a straight backed chair in the middle of our bedroom and laid my Spencer paddle on the chair.  When Eric arrived home I greeted him with a passionate kiss on his mouth and told him to meet me in our bedroom.  When he came into the bedroom I slapped his face, sit in the chair with the paddle on my lap, and ordered him to strip and get over my knee.  I raised the paddle high in the air above my head and brought it down across the middle of his bottom with a snap of my wrist leaving a perfect imprint of my paddle across his bottom as he left out a gasp.  The second spank was just below the first and just as hard leaving another perfect imprint.  Next I started alternating from cheek to cheek as he cried, begged, kicked, squirmed, and danced over my lap.  He likes no part of being draped over my lovely lap.  Twenty-five spanks later his bottom was bright red, his eyes were blood shot and puffy, and tears were running down his face.  When I allowed him off of my lap to do his spanking dance around our room I smiled and felt a feeling of power.  When he finally calmed down I gave him another passionate kiss on his mouth.

Men have learned not to be submissive and not aggressive and warfare is a thing of the past under our new regime.

Oh.my.god.video

 

Readers,

I’ve heard all about the Hofbrauhaus here in Las Vegas, and I know that they whack you with a paddle if/when you take some shot of liquor…and I’ve always maintained that it sounds Super Dangerous to allow your waitress to whack you with a thick wooden board when you’ve been drinking.

I still maintain that, and would also like to add this:

WHAT THE HELL??!!

 

Heart Attack Grill? Has anyone heard of/been to this place? And why in the name of everything good and edible is that lady allowed to hit people like that? Wow. I’m sure that she’s a lovely person, but every time I see her lift that paddle I am genuinely afraid for every person in the room.

Is the food really great? Is it worth the risk of losing all feeling from the waist down? Or am I being overly sensitive/judgmental about what I think looks like a paddle that could land Just About Anywhere every time it’s swung (this includes the front porch)? Scary spanking video.

Oh, Canada!

 

Have you seen this?

 

Pro-Domme Carlie Ritch (“Mizz Barbie Bitch”) has announced that she will run for mayor of Toronto. 

HERE is the link to the article.

My favorite quote from the interview: “I don’t have any skeletons in my closet.” said Ritch, “I AM the skeleton.”

 

 

‘You look SO evil…’

 

Okay, let’s not pretend that I haven’t heard that before –

but I like to think that it’s complimentary..

..is that possible?

Yeah, totally.

 

So our friends at Cane-iac.com have been playing around with GIFs and our stock of dozens of Product Testing and Tips 4 Tops videos, and they’ve come up with some pretty cool free spanking videos stuff.

This one, in particular, I received attached to an email titled, “You look SO evil in this one!”. And ya know what? They’re right! On the spot, totally, right.

See for yourself:

DelrinRugBeater

 

So there it is…evil. But in a good way. (Also, I think that I would look much less daunting in this GIF if my Bottom’s Bottom hadn’t been acting particularly theatrical that day. He’s such a weenie sometimes.)

–  Dana

Spanking PSA : Why spanking is ‘therapy’…and why I’m pissed that I have to use quotes there.

 

Once, when I still had social networking accounts, I tweeted something about ‘spanking therapy’ to one of my friends. I don’t know why or how, but someone I’d never met nor heard of, who was some sort of anti-new-age-medicine personality, made a super snarky and dismissive comment and re-shared my original tweet to his followers. Sort of a ‘look, another loony’ kind of thing. I was highly insulted. First of all, who the hell are you? and secondly, what business is it of yours? and third, oh…I could go on and on about the social miscalculations this person made that day. But that’s not the point, so let’s get past my indignation at the snark and look at the underlying smarminess.

People think that sex is dirty. People also think that anything which smacks of fetish must be perverse, discordant, and totally without actual value. In other words, some folks think that what we do is weird and we’re dumb. (And where the ‘what we do’ is, you could put any counter- or alt-norm culture or movement and get the same results.) Many of those people are just under- or ill-informed (ignorant) and the rest are simply closed to the idea of anything outside their comfortable social mores (stupid). Probably more than a few talk the clean talk, but walk the dirty walk, distancing themselves from other perverts by way of magical thinking.

People who think that this is all a bunch of crap (I’ll call them The Dummies from here on out, so nobody gets confused) are, simply, small-minded. I’m not a person of unshakeable faith in many things, but I have the ultimate faith in a person’s ability to accept. When that faith is shaken by Dummies, I remind myself that it’s not anyone else’s life I’m living, nor is anyone helping me live this one…I’m answerable only to myself. My beliefs don’t have to jibe with anyone else’s, and it’s cool for others to disagree…as long as they’ve educated themselves on the subject. Dummies are the folks who would take a subject like spanking, look at it for half a second, then determine it to be valueless.

Most people reading this post will likely be pro-spanking, pro-kink, or, at the very least, pro-openmindedness (or you wouldn’t still be reading), so it’s not likely that I’ll meet a lot of dissenters here, and that’s fine too. It still has to be said.

Spanking is therapeutic.

It’s not just a get-off tool; it’s certainly not just deviance; it’s most definitely proven (by those who are willing to talk openly) to have positive and long-lasting effects on one’s mental state. Granted, one must be open to the idea, and possibly an actual spanko, to derive benefit from this belief, but doesn’t that make it just like every other belief? Don’t we all have to suspend disbelief in one or more areas of our lives, in order for things like belief to work in the first place?

And does it really matter whether we believe in it because it works, or whether it works because we believe it will? I don’t think so. (I’m getting a strong sense of deja vu here..like I’ve complained about this very thing before. Ah well,)

Dummies would say that we’re all hung up on some childhood trauma, or that we’re sadistic sociopaths and masochistic psychos. Personally, I think we’re a lot simpler than all that. We crave something which we cannot necessarily explain but which harms none, and we seek it out. We do not impose our wills or ideas on others, unlike the Dummies.

See, they think it’s all about the hitting. That’s why they’re dumb.

We know better…

It’s less about the spanking and much, much, much more about the relationships we foster – we can’t help fostering – when we’re so close together for so long.

It’s about empathy, too, isn’t it? The whole thing about actually listening rather than just waiting for one’s turn to speak.

And trust, which we give physically so very easily but withhold emotionally for so very long.

But I don’t have to explain it to you, do I? And The Dummies would never listen.

Preaching to the choir,

– Dana

Give Til it Hurts Raffle #2 Update – Final Week to enter for a 1 year DanaKaneSpanks.com membership!

 

We’re down to the final week of the Give Til it Hurts Raffle #2, for a 1 YEAR membership to DanaKaneSpanks.com (and a runner-up 30 day membership) –

and we’ve already raised $600  for animals in need!

Every time we play the Give Til it Hurts game, every single cent donated will be given to animals in need – last time we raised and donated one thousand dollars to many great causes, and I’m looking forward to seeing just how much more we can accomplish, together, this time. 

If you want to participate, simply email me at danakanespanks@gmail.com and let me know how many raffle tickets you’d like to purchase – they’re five dollars apiece and each one buys you another chance to win one of the two prizes.

The contest ends March 31, and I’ll post up all the contributors (pseudonyms) as well as the raffle drawing video, within a few days. I’ll also list all recipients of donated funds, so you’ll know exactly where your donation is doing great things and see the cute little furry faces that would thank you if they could.  

 

 –  Dana

 

 

Below, a fun plea from one of our participants in the first Raffle, ‘Angel’s Guardian Angel’ : 

 

“We have all watched PBS at some point in our lives, and I don’t mean Sesame Street. An adult program that you would want to record for your video library, added to “burned” DVDs with the FBI warnings. These PBS programs are so exemplary that they have commercial breaks (which require a computer program with editing capabilities) on a network that advertises it is commercial-free. The best of PBS occurs during “pledge week” … which is a few weeks every year.

“Ms. Kane has something similar. She, however, does not guilt-trip you. But I will. I am AGA, the one who ironically added to Angel’s sentence with 360 more strokes. You know, Angel with the deer-in-the headlights expression. Angel should wear a T-shirt emblazoned with the word “scapegoat”. Poor thing. I could accuse anyone who contributed to Ms. Kane’s cause of animal rights as an accessory to a crime, but, hell, I want that video too. Probably the reason why I suggested a $1000 cap so I now have a 1-3 chance of winning it.

“Not that I want to see Angel in pain. I guiltily watch Ms. Kane videos on her website to study Ms. Kane. The consummate female sadist. Every male fantasy. Like the regal Evil Queen in Disney’s Snow White. Love her! … Ms. Kane, that is!

“But I digress. My plea to you to contribute to Ms. Kane’s fundraisers in the future. Even though it seems hypocritical that Ms. Kane supports animal rights while she mercilessly beats alleged transgressors, we all enjoy taking “pleasure” in watching her … doing it, of course. But really, viewers, you can’t expect to appreciate Ms. Kane’s body … of work, that is … without contributing to the valuable cause which she is advocating. Let’s have these “critters” given the treatment they deserve because they elicit joy whenever we connect with them … as long as the leash to what they are attached is in other’s hand or as long as litter boxes their are cleaned by their owners. Personally, I wiggle and smile when a strange dog tries to kiss me. I’m not sure if Rover really likes me or is in the tongue-cleaning process.

“In short, I stand behind Ms. Kane … probably trying to real the label from her designer jeans … and any cause that she supports.”

 

Angel’s Guardian Angel

You Have No Idea Where That’s Been (Totally Unrelated to Spanking.)

Readers,

Maybe it’s that I’m at an age now where, had I had children of my own, I’d be trying to lay in some seriously long-lasting and meaningful life lessons; maybe it’s just because I’m smarter now than I was in my twenties. I certainly care more about other people, the world around me, and how I impact it all, than I did twenty years ago.
There’s also a really good chance that I know I have a somewhat ‘captive’ audience, as lots of folks come here to read about spanking, to which I may preach. Forgive me.

(zero segue)

So, what did you have for breakfast this morning? How about dinner last night?
Did it come out of a box or bag? Do you know what was in it? Do you know where it came from?

Are you sure?

Yeah, you have no idea. And neither do I. And that’s a Big Problem.

*Fair warning : As anyone who’s spent any amount of time whatsoever around me in recent years can attest, I can go off about this subject. Warm your coffee, get comfortable, and consider turning back now unless you really care what I think about things which have absolutely nothing to do with spanking.

Let’s start with a little information that’ll put us on more equal ground: Google “CAFO”. Read any of the first hundred articles which come up – or even better, just click the ‘image’ part of the search.

Now let that sit with you for a while.

That’s your food.

That’s what you had for breakfast this morning, and likely for dinner last night. It doesn’t matter whether you drove through the local fast food joint, ate at a high-end restaurant, or shopped in your local supermarket for food you prepared at home – it’s almost guaranteed that your meat products came from a CAFO. 

Now let’s take one more foray into Google’s vast wealth of knowledge – search “GMO”.  Same deal; same schtick. This is what you’re eating. The crap that they’re calling food. 

Chemical company Monsanto owns the PATENT on most of the grain foods you eat now, and lots of the vegetables, and all of the stuff they feed CAFO animals. In other words, Monsanto is your supermarket. They’ve engineered foods to be able to live through repeated sprayings of RoundUp (that weed killer you buy at Walmart) – that’s right, folks, weed killer. Poison. The stuff that will kill you, kill your pets, and kill full grown trees….those people sell the seeds that grow the corn, wheat, and other ‘healthy’ stuff you buy.

And those CAFO animals? They’re pumped full of antibiotics to keep their feet rotting off while grown exponentially on feedlots – and they’re fed things that they’d NEVER eat in a million years given the choice. The antibiotics must be SO strong to keep down disease that they have to wash the processed meat in…ready for this?….ammonia – AMMONIA, to kill off the antibiotic properties before they’re passed on to us. But fear not! – we get the antibiotics anyway in the shit/sludge/runoff from these CAFO’s that goes directly into our lakes, rivers, and, eventually, drinking water. 

Yummy.

If this little bit of information hasn’t changed the way you look at the things you put in your body, your kids and grandkids’ bodies, and your pets’ bodies, then hopefully it’s given you pause to think about the ‘lives’ lived by the animals we’re going to consume.

Educate yourself. Please.

Start with watching the documentary ‘Food, Inc.’. What? You don’t have 90 minutes to devote to living a healthier, more conscious life?

That’s what I thought.

**Look, I’m not soap-boxing here, and am not judging. I eat meat pretty regularly – but now I (granted, much more expensively) only buy grass fed beef, free range chicken, and Organic Everything as often as possible. There’s no more fast food, and few restaurant trips….but I’ll tell you something : I feel better.

And I want you to feel better, too.

 

Think about it…

–  Dana

Who doesn’t love Betty Blaze?

 

I’ve never met Betty Blaze, but I’ve seen a LOT of her films. She has the quintessential  spanker top look and demeanor, and obviously knows how to give a real, hard spanking. Betty appears to work mainly with Real Spankings site Women Spanking Men, and I’ve not seen a scene where her bottom gets off lightly.

There’s even a place on the Women Spanking Men website where male bottoms may apply to work with Betty and the other tops in paid spanking video shoots – cool!

 

Lila Punishes Her Assistant

 

 

Tanner’s Bad Day

 

 

Punished in the Woodshed

 

 

Skylar Interviewed and Spanked

 

 

Is there such a thing as Too Big?

 

Ahem.

I mean butts, folks, calm yourselves.

Particularly, female butts.

I consider myself a longtime fan of, depending on your vernacular, the part of the female anatomy lovingly called : The Juicy Booty, A Large Backyard, Extra Junk in the Trunk, Fries with That Shake, Bubble Butt, and the universally known “Damn, look at the size of that ass!” (Yes, I know that most of those terms could be considered derogatory if a person were looking for something about which to become righteously indignant, but I stand by my assertion that all of the above are LOVINGLY listed. I should also point out that I use these same terms when referring to a gentleman’s equally-proportioned assets.)

It’s probably unlikely that there are many people on the planet who do not appreciate a well-shaped backside, whether they’re inclined to slap said backside repeatedly or not. I’m sure that there are also a zillion different personal definitions of ‘well-shaped’, as we are all different in our tastes.

And while I certainly appreciate a small, fit, toned, muscular, or petite female backside, there’s something gloriously and spectacularly visually overwhelming about the big, really big, ones.

Problem is, in this age of fix-everything-cosmetic-procedures, ‘real’ butts are nearly as hard to identify as non-Viagra-fueled erections – sometimes you just can’t tell from looking. Gals get fat from one part of their body injected into their bums; there’s all kinds of crazy fillers now, including collagen, and even (silicone!) butt cheek implants. I’ve even heard horrible stories of black market procedures where women’s butts are injected with fix-a-flat…this is not a joke.

The obsession with big butts obviously isn’t just mine, but the idea that women would go to such lengths to achieve a larger-than-life posterior perplexes me. Not because I’m averse to cosmetic tweaking, but because the results so rarely look natural.

A few examples, good and possibly otherwise:  (*Note: I cannot say for sure whether any of the below have or have not altered their backsides with something other than diet and exercise; I can only offer my opinions. I could be absolutely and heinously wrong in each and every case.)

 

Coco Austin (personal favorite Large Backyard)

Coco has one of the most famous posteriors in modern celebrity culture. She’s the wife of Ice T and has at least partially built her fame on those gigantic assets you see in the photo on the right. I’ve always been a fan of watching Coco walk back and forth, bend over, and partake in any other movement which allowed me view of her backside. The photo on the left was taken at the beginning of her modeling career and shows a much much smaller rear-end. It seems like Coco’s done a bit more than just squat thrusts to achieve that gravity-defying, wrap-around booty, but I, for one, am not mad at her. (Is it just right, or too big? Does it matter if she’s had some help in that ‘department’?)

Kim Kardashian

Scandal-worthy behavior aside, Kim Kardashian has one of the most photographed bodies in current celebrity. She’s been scrutinized by nearly every person in the country for her weight fluctuations but one thing’s always been the same – her big ‘ol booty. Or has it? In the photo sequence above you’ll notice that Kim’s backside used to be what one would call relatively normal-sized, but in recent years has morphed into something resembling a satellite orbiting the back of her body. (Is this the payoff of hours and hours at the gym, or hours and hours at the doctor’s office? And, does it matter? Would you spank that?)

Blac Chyna

With all respect for personal choices, I hope rapper and video girl Blac Chyna isn’t into spanking, because I’m pretty sure that those implants would explode on impact.

Jennifer Lopez

Before anyone had ever heard of KK, Jennifer Lopez was the reigning queen of notable backsides. It’s easy to tell from her physique that this woman is in tip-top shape, and the lower back slope and narrower hips suggest, to me at least, that this is an All Natural Ass. (She’s admitted to Spanx, as have most women who can affort the spandex miracle. Is this simply nature at it’s best?)

Serena Williams

Go ahead, accuse repeated champion tennis player Serena Williams of having anything but a One Hundred Percent Natural Bottom…I dare you.

Beyoncé

Another fantasticall fit celeb, Beyoncé looks all natural – and if she’s not, who cares, ’cause whoo!

Nicki Minaj

If these before and after photos are to be believed, Nicki Minaj once had not just a less-than-large behind, but nearly none at all. Now, she’s famous for more than her singing and outlandish fashion – she’s become very well-known for that magically-appearing butt. (Last-minute genetic mutation? Overzealous cosmetic enhancement? Do we care?)

Jessica Biel

Jessica’s another star known for her fit lifestyle. Considering that, while she’s packing quite a lot of punch back there, it doesn’t look particularly out-of-proportion to the rest of her body or oddly high…looks like the Real Thing. (Spankable?)

Okay, okay, I could and would go on like this for quite some time, but you’ve probably experienced enough mindless butt-worship for one day.

Back to your regularly scheduled programming…

–  Dana

She Will, She Will, Spank You

 

Yes, Miss Katarina…

You’ll all likely recognize my gorgeous friend Katarina from her years of spanking performing on both sides of the paddle – most recently, she helped me teach my guy a lesson in our video “You Asked for It”.

YouAskedForItFULL-004

I’m very tickled to announce that Katarina’s finally begun offering private spanking sessions, something she’s very good at and has been talking about for quite some time. She’s located in the Tahoe/Reno area, and will also be accepting limited travel appointments in select international metro areas.

Her new site, which is still in the process of being populated but already contains the info you need to schedule your very own Katarina discipline time, is:

http://www.disciplinebykatarina.blogspot.com/

For my current friends and playmates, please feel free to include me as a reference when contacting Katarina – I’ll be sure to tell her all the naughty things you deserved being spanked for!

–  Dana

‘A New Beginning’ : Future Spank story (f/m spanking)

The Future Spank contest really revved some imaginations. Here’s another fun one, called ‘A New Beginning’.
– Dana
A New Beginning
By 2,500 A.D. men had turned our planet into a state of constant warfare.  Young men were taken from their families at the age of 6 and raised by the state where they were taught sports and activities designed to enhance military skills.  By the time they were 16 they were conscripted into the military where they lived in barracks and remained soldiers until they were 62.  Fossil fuels were being rationed and renewable energy proved to be a boondoggle and couldn’t be sustained without government subsidies.  Our planet had entered another mini ice age similar to the period when General Washington wintered over at Valley Forge during the American Revolution.  Because of the colder climate we weren’t able to grow as much food and the world population decreased.  Just the opposite of what happened during the medieval period of global warming when Greenland was green and the warm climate allowed a surplus of food to be produced and the world’s population increased.

My name is Boudice and I was able to unite the women of our area with a vision of a better future.  Our borders were secure and there was no need to expand.  My plan was to submit the men to my vision of peace.  I organized the women to withhold sex with their mates until they submitted to our two demands; the end of warfare and election of women to political power.  Over the next years voters realized that women made the best political leaders and we were in total charge of our government.  Men became submissive to women and wars stopped.

That is about the time I discovered an old manuscript from the early 1900’s written by Dorothy Spencer.  She was a leading authority on marital harmony and the lost art of spanking.  She advocated that couples agree to spankings to clear the air.  The spanking would sincerely benefit the party at fault and not lead to dangerous quarrels- when the spanking is over the situation is resolved.  According to her plan revenge, oppression, force, and violence are omitted.  The idea is to administer punishment and avoid arguments that can lead to divorce court.  The plan calls for willful submission to a cooperative system of beneficial discipline.  Spankings should never be administered in anger and men are to be spanked with wooden paddles.  Punishments were to be painful so that the man being spanked would not want to repeat the experience.

The Spencer spanking plan was written into our law codes.  Every willing woman was issued a Spencer style spanking paddle with the authority to apply it to any adult male exhibiting aggressive behavior.  Tracking devices were inserted in the forearms of all males when they reached their 18th birthday.  Any man committing even minor acts of aggression if confronted by a paddle carrying disciplinarian was immediately identified by his tracking device and could choose either jail time or an immediate pants down paddling.  Most men avoided these public paddlings; but, a few seemed to have a strange need for an occasional spanking. They didn’t seem to enjoy the actual spanking but always returned for more  You could tell from their expressions that the spankings were painful but they apparently received some release from the pressures of the day after they were allowed to pull up their pants and continue on their way.

Today on my way home from the government health club I stopped by a food outlet and the young man in front of me argued about his ration card with the government service agent.  I grabbed him by his ear, lowered his pants and briefs to around his knees, bent him over the counter, announced that he would receive 10 spanks for his rude aggressive behavior, and told him that if he didn’t stay in position I would start my count again.  When I finished this 20 year old man was crying uncontrollably and his entire bottom was one bright red welt.  You could make out the imprint of the holes from my paddle!  I don’t think he was one of the men who has a strange need for an occasional paddling.

Now a little more about me.  I am a 35 years old 5′ 11″ tall and an avid body builder.  I have very little body fat due to daily workouts and diet.  These attributes aided me with my leadership during the revolutionary changes in our society.  As one of five Directors and a member of the Senate I wield much political power.  I have a civil union agreement with my mate Eric.  He is very fit like me and a type A male.  Because of this he feels the sting of my paddle about three times a month.  He hates these paddlings as much as I enjoy giving them.

It was brought to my attention that he was involved in an altercation over sharing Nautilus equipment at our government run health center.  When I returned to our housing pod without changing out of my skin tight yoga pants I put a straight backed chair in the middle of our bedroom and laid my Spencer paddle on the chair.  When Eric arrived home I greeted him with a passionate kiss on his mouth and told him to meet me in our bedroom.  When he came into the bedroom I slapped his face, sit in the chair with the paddle on my lap, and ordered him to strip and get over my knee.  I raised the paddle high in the air above my head and brought it down across the middle of his bottom with a snap of my wrist leaving a perfect imprint of my paddle across his bottom as he left out a gasp.  The second spank was just below the first and just as hard leaving another perfect imprint.  Next I started alternating from cheek to cheek as he cried, begged, kicked, squirmed, and danced over my lap.  He likes no part of being draped over my lovely lap.  Twenty-five spanks later his bottom was bright red, his eyes were blood shot and puffy, and tears were running down his face.  When I allowed him off of my lap to do his spanking dance around our room I smiled and felt a feeling of power.  When he finally calmed down I gave him another passionate kiss on his mouth.

Men have learned not to be submissive and not aggressive and warfare is a thing of the past under our new regime.

Couples’ Sessions

 

Most readers would probably be surprised at the number of couples I see in my travels. I think there’s an assumption that all professional disciplinarian’s playmates are men, which couldn’t be farther from the truth, as I have a whole bunch of female playmates, as well. But we’re going to talk about couples today, specifically couples who’re trying to work out their DD dynamics.

Yes, many of the couples with whom I play are bb’s (both bottoms), and in a few the female partner is the spankee, but in the great majority of cases the male partner is the (hopeful) spankee and his lady is his spanker.

Occasionally, my presence is simply a little added spice in what is already a regular and cohesive spanking regimen. Most of the time, though, I’m there to act as either an instructor/cheerleader for the possibly reluctant or less-than-confident spanker, or as the person who doesn’t have emotional connectedness to the bad boy in question and can therefore go much further in disciplining him than his loving spouse may feel comfortable doing herself. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of translating the spanko/partner’s language into something to which the non-spanko half of the couple can relate. And always – always – there is humor, because sometimes we just have to laugh at ourselves.

The most common email request I receive from couples goes something like this (usually, but not always, first contact comes from the spanko/male partner):

Hello Ms. Kane,

I’m 48 and my wife is 46. I’m a spanko and she’s not, but she does spank me sometimes. We’d both like her to enjoy it more so that it’ll happen more often, and we are hoping that you can help.

Thanks,

Dick and Jane

 

I LOVE getting these emails for a number of reasons. First, it’s nice to know that somewhere out there someone is getting spanked for something! Realistically, it’s even nicer to know that there are partners out there who are willing to indulge their mate’s peccadilloes – not out of obligation but out of love and an attempt to better understand. These women are almost never ‘real live spankos’, but many of them make great efforts to be present and knowledgeable in regard to their love’s fetish…not everyone’s that cool or dedicated. Also, I truly do believe the adage ‘the couple that plays together, stays together’, and it really doesn’t matter HOW you play, so long as you do. 

My first advice to these couples is usually, ‘Don’t wait for it to happen. Make it happen.’ We can talk stuff to death without ever actually getting around to doing it, can’t we? There’s also the simple fact that the world will get in the way of our fun every chance it gets, so scheduling is important.

Scheduling fun, you say? 

Hell yes.

Things don’t have to be spontaneous to be fun, you just can’t hang your expectations on those odds. So couples, plan that spanking! Every Tuesday at 9pm, or Sunday mornings without fail. Before long, you’ll be in a regular routine that both of you look forward to equally, and nobody’s blaming anybody else for the lack of spanking going on.

Then it’s just a matter of Practice Makes Perfect – not even the most hardcore spanking fetishists come out of the box with perfecto spanking skills, and a non-spanko partner will need the chance to build confidence with intensity, technique, and implement usage, just like anyone else would. The difference is, she’s not the one thinking about spanking when she goes to sleep every night, so the natural fetishist drive isn’t there – that means learning the right techniques may take longer, or may be more difficult. The worst thing a spanko partner can do in this situation is criticize – and the last thing that the non-spanko spanker can do is apologize. Confidence is critical, and that’s one of the main things we work on in couples sessions. Whether she feels it or not, it should be projected…kind of a ‘fake it til you make it’ psychology, but it works. Before you know it, that projected confidence is so practiced that it comes naturally – then it belongs to her, and your butt is toast.

And isn’t that all most of us really want in life…a toasty butt?

–  Dana

 

‘Future Story’ : A great Future Spank read!

 

Readers,

Last but certainly not least in the Future Spank contest, here’s an entry aptly titled ‘Future Story’. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it as much as I did.

 

–  Dana

 

 

‘Future Story’

 

I open my eyes to a room with soft, white light.

“Welcome back,” says a tall woman who is standing over me with a tablet. “You’ve been out for quite a while.”

“Out?” I ask, trying to understand what she is talking about, or even where I am for that matter. 

She gives me a small smile and shakes her head. “I forget that none of you ever seems to remember what’s happening for the first few moments. Not to worry, it will all come back to you soon enough.”

I am in a bed, wearing a gown very similar to what I am always given for a medical exam, and this woman appears to be reading a file about me.

“Am I in the hospital?” I ask, still very confused.

“Not quite,” she explains, still glancing down at the tablet. “We have been monitoring your health the entire time you’ve been here though.”

“Where is here, and how long have I been here?” I ask.

Looking up from the tablet, her expression grows more serious. “Do you remember anything about discussing a program that would allow you to deal with problems in the future that you were unable to resolve when you came to us?”

While I am not entirely sure of what she is talking about, I do have a vague memory concerning a therapist telling me about a new technique that would allow people to take time away from the stress of everyday life and deal with that stress at a point in the future. I must have decided to take a break from my normal life for a few months, because I can also remember the thought of briefly escaping from everything seeming appealing.

“I remember something about that,” I confirm, sitting up to continue the conversation. “Did I decide to spend a few months here?”

She frowns slightly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “This is going to come as a bit of a shock to you, but it’s actually been many years since you entered into our program. Your original paperwork did request a shorter stay, but it seems like there was a glitch shortly after you came here. In our move to program everything into computers and go paperless, a careless assistant typed in the wrong release date for you.”

As I try to process what she has told me, I feel panic setting in, quickly replaced by anger and confusion. “What the hell do you mean, years? How many years? Do you know how hard it’s going to be for me to explain being away for years? I probably don’t have a job anymore, and this will be a huge shock to my friends and family. How could you screw up so badly with something so important?”

“Watch your tone with me, young lady,” she says firmly, setting the tablet aside and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “I know this is difficult to hear, but if you will just listen, I plan to explain everything.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, taking a deep breath. “The news that I have been away from everything for years is just overwhelming. I realize that it isn’t your fault personally.”

“I understand,” she assures me, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You were out for much longer than intended, and things have changed quite a bit since your time. Will you please let me explain everything to you?”

I nod, not sure of what to say.

“The first thing I want you to understand is that since the mistake on your records was an error on our part, we plan to take full responsibility for helping you with the adjustment period you will be facing. I have personally requested to be your full time counselor for as long as you need any help,” she informs me.

“Can’t I just let people I already know help with that?” I ask, thinking that I really should see about calling a friend to get a ride home.

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but you were out for over fifty years,” she says, looking very concerned. “There is nobody on your contact list who is still around.”

“BUT I DON’T LOOK ANY OLDER,” I shriek, feeling the panic rise again.

“What did I tell you about your tone, young lady?” she says. “I know this is alarming, but you will behave in a civil manner with me. There have been quite a few advances in medical technology over the past fifty years, and the reason you don’t look older is because you have been given regular doses of a formula that prevents you from aging while you are not active. It’s a service provided to every client we see.”

It occurs to me that I am lucky not to have aged, because waking up older would be too much to process on top of everything else that has happened.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” my counselor tells me sympathetically, “but I am here to make sure that you are going to be alright. I would like to get the mechanical medics in here to examine you, then, we can go over some of the issues you wanted help with when you first got here if that’s okay. Do you have any questions?”

“What is a mechanical medic?” I ask, nervously.

“Roughly thirty years ago, hospitals developed very advanced software and machinery that can be much faster and more precise than humans at performing most medical tasks and analyzing data. Human doctors are still in charge, but we prefer to use the technology available to us to ensure a much more thorough and accurate exam,” she explains. “The whole process usually doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes, and I will be observing everything. Is there anything else you would like to know?”

“What is your name?” I ask her.

“You can call me Dr. M,” she says.

To my surprise, the exam with the mechanical medics is nowhere near as unpleasant as I originally imagined it would be. Both devices enter the room with a movement similar to that of a remote controlled toy car, then, quickly produce gadgets that look a bit like smartphones.

“Most of the data needed for an examination can be taken with simple scans these days,” Dr. M informs me, keeping her eye on the medics. “And since your health was monitored during your entire stay, it won’t take long to compare the data collected not with records already on file. The main point of this exam is to make sure that you are still in good physical condition after being inactive.”

After a few short minutes of scans, both mechanical medics leave. Dr. M makes a few notes on her tablet, then, informs me that the exam found me to be perfectly healthy.

“The next thing I would like to do is discuss some of your initial reasons for coming here. Do you think you are ready for that right now?” she asks me.

My memory from my time prior to waking up in my current situation is still not entirely clear, but maybe, something she plans to discuss will help me recall more details.

“I’m ready,” I tell her.

She reads from her tablet for a moment before speaking. “I see from your file that you had a lot of trouble dealing with some of the responsibilities in your everyday life. Does that sound familiar?”

Now, I do remember more about why I came here in the first place. I remember how I felt overwhelmed at work, and how most of my life had seemed very chaotic, largely because I had trouble planning for the future and had ended up just going from one event to the next without any goals or thoughts of what would happen next. I also remember being unsatisfied with the direction that things were going in my work and personal life, but every time I thought about steps I could take to improve the situation, I got anxious and talked myself out of ever doing anything.

“I can remember why I needed help in the first place,” I tell her. “I remember that I didn’t do the best job of living as a well-rounded, responsible adult, but I wasn’t sure how to fix that problem, so I decided to avoid dealing with it at all for a little while.”

Dr. M nods, giving me a stern look. “I think you have summed up your troubles perfectly. Fortunately for you, there is a very simple way to resolve some of those issues. It’s just a shame that you weren’t provided with it in your time, because I am quite sure it was available fifty years ago.”

“What is the solution?” I ask, curious to find out what she is talking about. “If you have a medication to keep me young, there must be a drug you can give me that will make confident enough to do everything I need. Is it something like that?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” Dr. M answers, shaking her head. “For all of the advances we have made in behavioral health, we find that there are times when the old methods still work the best. You, young lady, do not need a magic drug or quick fix for the issues that caused you to struggle. You need to learn some self-discipline, and it will be my job to help you with that.”

“How are you planning to help me?” I ask, thinking that this conversation is starting to sound very much like one of the past lectures I would have received from my parents or one of my teachers. 

“We are going to work together on  coming up with a list of goals that you will work towards in order to avoid getting back into the negative habits you had in the past, and I am going to start providing you with consequences for any negative or  self-defeating behaviors, usually in the form of physical punishment,” she states.

“You’re going to spank me?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yes,” she replies, grinning with amusement at my disbelief. “If you aren’t capable of acting like a mature adult, you certainly aren’t going to be treated like one. From what I gathered by reading your file, I think you’ve needed a good spanking for a long time, and I fully intend to give you one.”

Setting her tablet aside, Dr. M comes to sit at the edge of the bed again. “I think we should begin now,” she says, taking me by the hand. “It’s better if we address your previous behavior so that you can start with a clean slate.”

Realizing what is about to happen, I try to pull my hand away from her.

“Don’t fight me,” she orders, pulling me across her lap effortlessly in spite of my struggling. 

My muscles are all much weaker than they should be from lack of use over the past fifty years, and I quickly realize that any attempt to escape her grip is going to be pointless. Because there is nothing else I can do, I quit trying to pull away and allow her to position me across her knees.

“That’s much better,” she responds, raising the gown above my waist and quickly removing my panties. “This won’t be easy, but you know that you have earned it.”

Without further delay, she begins to deliver firm slaps with her palm. “Things are going to be very different for you,” she lectures, continuing to spank. “You are going to make the effort to take responsibility for your own life, and believe me, you will end up with a very sore bottom if you don’t change your behavior.”

“I’m sorry,” I whimper, now squirming every time her hand strikes. My skin is quickly growing very sensitive, and I am amazed at how much pain I am feeling from just her hand.

“I’m sure you are sorry now,” she replies, increasing the intensity of the spanking, “and you will be very sorry every time I have to do this. But I want you to understand, it really is for your benefit.”

Several minutes pass, and I take the rest of the spanking in silence except for the occasional yelp or whimper. By the time we are finished, she has managed to bring forth a few tears. This experience has been painful, but I also find that I am feeling much calmer than I have in the past few hours since waking up.

“It’s over,” she assures me, rubbing my back gently. “You were a very good girl to take that without too much trouble.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. 

“You’re very welcome,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “I know that wasn’t fun, but I think you will find that it is going to help you tremendously.”

“I’m just glad that you don’t have some sort of machine to deal with punishments,” I say, laughing a little. “Your hand was hard enough.”

“Oh, there are mechanical discipline devices,” she informs me with an evil grin, “but there are still a few things that I believe are better when left to humans.”

“What will I do now?” I ask her.

“You will trust me to help you for the time being,” she says. “Things are very different from when you came in here, and it’s going to be a big adjustment, but I think you will have a lot to look forward to in the future.”

“How different are things?” I ask. “Will I get to have robots do everything for me or have a car that can drive itself?”

She grins, shaking her head at me. “Young lady, the whole reason you got into this situation in the first place was from not being able to take care of things yourself. The last thing you need is to depend on technology that will allow that problem to continue.”

“Well, if I’m not going to be using all kinds of new technology, what am I going to be doing?” I ask, my tone getting slightly whiney.

“Well, I can see another spanking in your immediate future if you want to pout,” she says, taking me by the arm again.

“No,” I protest. “I get it. I promise, I will work on taking care of things for myself.”

“Alright,” she says, letting go of my arm and getting up from the bed. “I have some work to finish up, and I want you to get a little rest. I will be back to check on you shortly.”

I settle back into bed, whimpering a little when my sore bottom first makes contact with the bed.

“I have a feeling that you will be sleeping on your stomach quite a bit at first,” Dr. M says, smiling at me before she steps out of the room.

I laugh a little too knowing that she is probably right. As I start falling asleep, I think about what my life is going to be like in the future. It seems that I won’t be playing with robots or driving flying cars for the time being, but I think I will be okay.

“At least she didn’t get the robots to spank me,” I mutter to myself before drifting off to sleep.

 

Clear-Conscience Consumerism (Unrelated to Spanking)

 

I try to be reasonably well-informed about the food I eat and the products I use, more so now than ever before, and that includes the yummy-girly-sniffy stuff, too.

You can’t walk into any drugstore, department store, supermarket, or even 99cent place without seeing hundreds (or thousands) of ‘beauty products’ – stuff geared (mostly) toward women that’s supposed to make us look, smell, and feel better. Problem with most of that stuff is that it’s a)terrible for you b)terrible for the environment c)tested on cute little tortured bunnies or d)all of the above. Really. Most of the stuff that they sell you in the beauty aisle is runoff from petrochemical processing and chemical by-product. Does that make you feel at all pretty or fresh? Yeah, me either.

After a playmate gifted me with an unbelievably-great-smelling gift box from Lush Cosmetics (lushusa.com), I was immediately hooked. The first thing I noticed after the scent was the large ‘Stop Animal Testing’ logo on their packaging (which is very mimimal, by the way, as they’re pro-reuse/recycle/biodegradable, too). None of the Lush product line contain animal products, and many are completely vegan – they even make zero-impact, beeswax free lip conditioner that is out of this world. Right down to the packing peanuts in their shipped boxes, which are made from biodegradable rice puff rather than unrecyclable styrofoam! It’s also worth mentioning that not only is each and every product in their line packaged and inspected by a specific company employee, LUSH is headquartered in Vancouver, BC, and all their products are sourced and produced right there in Canada.

So this stuff’s real hippy-dippy, you’re thinking, which is fine for girls who wear birkenstocks and don’t shave their legs, but not for Regular People….wrong. This stuff is really excellent, lasts forever, and is very reasonably priced when considering the great good done by leaving out tortured bunnies, clear-cut rainforests, and multi-syllabic chemical compounds nobody could ever really identify.

I’ve become somewhat preoccupied with eliminating as much chemical-infused junk as possible, so I’ve incorporated lots of their products already, and I love each and every one of them. The solid shampoo bars they make (amazing idea!) smell divine (I use Godiva), last forever, and lather better than the very best salon shampoo. My hair actually feels clean after using it and smells insanely good for hours. The bath gels are all scrumptious, but I prefer It’s Raining Men – a kind of sexy, honey scent that leaves skin (and hair!) moisturized and glowing. Then there’s Fresh Farmacy, quite possibly the best cleanser I’ve found for my…ahem…mature yet still-prone-to-spots skin. I could go on and on here, including the solid patchouli-scented Aromaco deodorant which is the BEST deodorant I’ve ever used, ever.

Check out LUSH online, or at one of their US boutiques, and tell me that you don’t absolutely love at least five things you find there. (And the bunnies will thank you.)

–  Dana

PS. Also, as you may have guessed, I’m enjoying writing outside the spanking theme more lately, and have categorized these posts as Totally Unrelated to Spanking in the ‘Favorite Subjects’ navigation in the right-hand sidebar.

PPS. I’m not being paid to gush about LUSH, nor do I get a coupon or cookie for the rave review. I just really like their products, and especially respect their ethics.

‘Disengaging Autodrive’ : A Future Spank fantasy (f/m spanking)

‘Disengaging Autodrive’ is just another example of the creativity of spanko minds at work in the Future Spank story contest. Enjoy!

– Dana

Disengaging Autodrive
———————

Jeff Miller was the kind of self-absorbed jerk that gets promoted to Vice-President just a little too quickly. He stood at the point in his office where the south and the west windows intersected and looked far down to the roof of the executive parking structure, his eyes fixed on a single vehicle parked there. He had parked on the roof instead of in the covered parking this morning so that he could observe his new Nikola sportscar from a new angle several times throughout the day. The sun in the west window was almost parallel to the floor now, and it was Friday, and it was time to go.

The Nikola was a purchase that people like Jeff made when they wanted to show off. It was beautifully put together and very powerful, but it was also three times the price of the sweatshop-made warehouse-club cars that most people used, barely any bigger, and only slightly more comfortable. For all the power that the Nikola had, it was a slave to the ubiquitous autodrive feature that guided every car on the road to its destination, which meant that it didn’t actually arrive any faster than the cheapest plastic bubble on the road. But it was beautiful, and sitting in one told the world that you had more money than them, which is why Jeff had to have one.

On the ride this morning, the Nikola’s autodrive had moved him efficiently from home to work while Jeff had used the heads-up display to read some messages, surf the web, watch the news, and make some video calls. He hadn’t even touched the Nikola’s steering wheel nor any of the pedals. As he slid into the soft leather seat of the Nikola for his evening commute he instructed the car, “Nikola, take me home.”

“Destination set: home. Enjoy your ride,” replied the car.

Before the car had started, Jeff blurted out, “Wait. Screw it. Disengage autodrive.” A small smile spread across Jeff’s lips.

“Command not understood.”

“Nikola, Disengage autodrive.” Jeff’s smile faded.

“Are you sure?” Asked the car.

“Dis-engage-auto-drive!” Jeff shouted.

The car began to display and read a section from it’s user manual, “Mandatory government warning: Since 2025, all vehicles have been fitted with mandatory autodrive capability for your safety and efficiency. Disabling autodrive is highly discouraged and is for emergency use only. A $20 per mile tax will be assessed upon vehicles driving without autodrive to compensate the victims of road accidents. User is solely responsible for all traffic violations incurred while driving without autodrive. To continue to disengage autodrive, you must digitally sign a waiver by scanning your thumb on the fingerprint reader. Continue?”

Jeff’s smile was gone and he muttered something about the “bloody nanny state” under his breath. He swiped his thumb across the fingerprint reader and a moment later a small whirring sound announced the appearance of the steering wheel and pedals from a hiding place behind the dashboard. He flicked the start button, tapped the Nikola into forward gear, and eased silently out of the parking lot.

In his college days, Jeff drove one of the last gas-powered sportscars made, too old to be fitted with autodrive, and too much fun. He got his fair share of speeding tickets too, and under the government’s financial-means-tested penalty policy, when he was a college student he didn’t make enough money to be assessed a financial penalty. Not being assessed a penalty didn’t mean getting off lightly though.

When the government first introduced a financial-means-tested sliding scale of financial penalties for misdemeanors based on people’s ability to pay, there was a huge complaint from the middle classes. Average people’s nest-eggs for vacations and bigger TVs were eaten away by fines, whereas college students with no assets and little income got small fines or no fines at all. College students started to commit misdemeanors for fun knowing that they would not have to pay a fine for it. Something had to be done. A year later, the so-called ‘spanking bill’ passed through the government easily.

The government’s spanking bill meant that those who were getting away without paying a fine would now be physically punished instead. It was usually 12 strokes of an 8mm diameter, meter-long synthetic cane. Rather than having a sweaty police officer haphazardly striking the offenders, a spanking robot was developed that could clinically strike the offender’s bottom, with equal force in each stroke, and place the strokes parallel and slightly separated so as not to overlap the strokes. A room in the police station was used for the canings, and a police officer was present in case of a machine malfunction.

Jeff had received about 10 canings over the course of his college career, more than anyone he knew. The first ones were pretty scary, but after a while he realized that the canings weren’t that bad; the pain went away with aspirin and beer, and the marks went away after a few days. He even played “naughty speeder and angry police officer” with his college girlfriend from time to time and thoroughly enjoyed being on the receiving end of the inevitable spanking, but he was too stupid at the time to keep her as his girlfriend. Once he had graduated from college, he cleaned up his act and got a real job, he was assessed a few financial penalties for speeding, but then he replaced his old gas-guzzler with an electric autodrive car and never received a ticket after that.

Tonight, the fun was back. With the autodrive disengaged and Jeff at the wheel of the powerful Nikola, he surged past clusters of autodrive cars causing them to move erratically as they adjusted their trajectories for the single non-autodrive car around them, awakening their drivers or interrupting their entertainment. At some point in Jeff’s journey, a yellow light illuminated on the Nikola’s dashboard, indicating that he was exceeding the speed limit, but Jeff knew this section of freeway and knew that they had taken down the speed cameras years ago, and that it wouldn’t have a motorcycle patrol on it unless there was an accident. Besides, with his new salary, he knew he could easily afford whatever financial penalty that might be assessed for a speeding ticket.

As soon as Jeff arrived home and put the Nikola into park, he accepted an incoming video call on the Nikola’s heads-up display. It was the image of a female police officer, about his age, attractive, and somehow familiar. “This is officer Kane from the city police. Jeff Miller, your vehicle has reported that you have exceeded the speed limit at mile marker 217 of the President Wendy Davis Memorial Freeway at 6:15PM tonight, Friday the 23rd of March. Do you wish to contest the ticket?”

“Rat Bastard,” thought Jeff to himself – he had been turned in by his own car! There was no point in arguing, the police undoubtedly had all the evidence they needed from the Nikola’s telemetry. All that was left to do was to pay the fine. “No, Ma’am,” replied Jeff.

“Very well, report to the police station in precinct 7 immediately. I’ll send the coordinates to your autodrive,” said the image of the woman.

Jeff thought this was all wrong. Normally when you get a fine you just put your thumb on the fingerprint reader and pay it from your vehicle. Why did he need to go to the station? “Officer Kane, how much is the means-tested penalty for this offense? I’ll happily pay it by thumbprint right here on my dashboard,” said Jeff.

“The penalty is 18 strokes of a 12mm diameter, 1 meter synthetic cane. Report to the police station immediately. Officer Kane out.” The image disappeared.

Jeff’s mind raced. How could this be? Then it dawned on him, when means-tested financial penalties were introduced, there was a public outcry when financial penalties were being assessed on people with high salaries that were more costly than the cars the offenses were being committed in. The government’s spanking bill had both a lower salary limit and an upper salary limit, and his new salary put him above the limit. As he re-engaged the autodrive, the Nikola’s steering wheel retreated into the dashboard as if it had taken a cold shower.

Officer Kane was waiting on the steps of the police station as Jeff pulled up, having been alerted of Jeff’s arrival by the Nikola’s telemetry. Jeff got out of the car and instructed it to find the nearest available parking. Officer Kane was an amazing sight with her dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and muscular body displayed beautifully in her aerodynamic skin-tight motorcycle officer’s uniform. She was also taller than Jeff due to the tall stiletto heels on her boots that engage into the motorcycle’s safety system.

“Nice outfit,” said Jeff. “Do I know you?”

“Nice car,” replied officer Kane. “You’d better hope not.”

“Can I take you for a ride later?” Asked Jeff.

“You’re going to be taking a serious caning, Mr Miller. You’re not going to want to ride anything afterwards. Let’s go inside,” and with that, Officer Kane led Jeff into the punishment room that was just off the station lobby.

The punishment room was similar to the ones Jeff remembered from his college days, simply furnished with a punishment frame in the center, a punishment robot just off to the side of the frame, a coatrack, and a selection of canes on the wall, with the 12mm one being the thickest.

“Remove all your clothing and place it on the coatrack,” instructed Officer Kane, “and scan your thumb over the punishment docket.” Jeff did as he was told. Officer Kane then led Jeff over to the punishment frame and secured the straps for his wrists, upper arms, waist, upper thighs, and ankles. No movement was possible, ensuring an accurate, safe and even set of stripes from the punishment robot. Officer Kane loaded the 12mm cane into the punishment robot and gave it a fearsome-sounding test ‘swoosh’ before locking the robot in position.

Officer Kane stood in front of the punishment frame, face to face with Jeff. “Jeff Miller, you have been sentenced to 18 strokes of the 12mm diameter cane for the offenses listed in the punishment docket. You have declined a court trial. Your punishment begins now,” said officer Kane dispassionately, and then she lifted the safety cover on the spanking robot master control, dialled in 18 strokes, flicked the start button, and returned to the front of the spanking frame so she could study Jeff’s face.

The first stroke exploded on to Jeff’s backside, near the top of his buttocks. He yelled out in pain for a short moment until the second stroke landed just a little below the first. He was preoccupied with his pain but briefly noticed officer Kane studying his face intently. The third and fourth strokes elicited loud grunts from Jeff. The fifth stroke surprised him, despite being perfectly aimed and timed by the punishment robot, and he opened his eyes to notice that officer Kane was no longer standing in front of him. The sixth stroke landed and made him gasp, and then he heard a small click. The seventh stroke was late.

“Machine malfunction,” announced Officer Kane. “I’m going to have to complete the punishment manually.” Jeff heard the sound of the cane being removed from the punishment robot. “I’ll just move the punishment robot out of the way, after all, I need my space,” said officer Kane with a slightly sarcastic tone.

It was in that moment that Jeff realized where he recognized Officer Kane from. The words, “I need my space” were the last words that Jeff had texted to his college girlfriend. They were both older, and she had been working out, and had changed her hair, and was using a married name, and was taller in stiletto boots than the flats she wore in college, but it was definitely her. And he knew the rest of his punishment wasn’t going to be any easier.

“Disengaging the autodrive? Mr Miller, you should know better.” With that came three quick strikes from the cane, perfectly landing below the other ones, and if anything they were harder than the ones the robot had delivered. “Did you know you could have killed someone?” chided Officer Kane, before delivering three hard strokes right on top of one another in the crease between his buttocks and upper thighs that bruised almost immediately.

 

Jeff let out a yell and then grunted a “No Ma’am” as best he could. He was sweating hard.

“Six more,” announced officer Kane, “Did you know you’d be punished?” She landed three hard ones barely a second apart across the tops of his thighs creating three more bright stripes.

 

Jeff struggled against the restraints and then succumbed, grunting a further “No Ma’am”.

“Did you know that I have punishment duty on Mondays and Fridays?” Asked officer Kane, before delivering the last three strokes at an angle, intersecting several of the stripes on the fleshy part of his buttocks and causing him to squeal in pain.

 

“No Ma’am, but I do now” replied Jeff. Jeff relaxed a little against the restraints and unclenched his buttocks, exhausted from the ordeal. Then he heard a couple of quick footsteps behind him and felt an immense pain squarely across his backside and extending around his side as the tip of the cane wrapped around and struck his hip. Jeff yelled out as a piece of the synthetic cane snapped off and hit the wall. Officer Kane had used all her strength for that 19th stroke, and had surprised herself a little by breaking one of the so-called “unbreakable” canes.

 

“That one’s from me. Now get out of here,” said officer Kane as she undid the straps, “and you’d better hope you don’t get another punishment from me.”

While Jeff was dressing, he noticed that the spanking robot looked fine, other than that the emergency stop had been depressed. He thanked Officer Kane, gingerly walked out of the station, called the Nikola over to the station steps, and let the autodrive take him home while he lay face-down across the back seat.

Over the course of the weekend, and with the help of some aspirin and good whisky, Jeff’s pain subsided to a dull glow and he felt rather good about the incident. So much so in fact, that the following Monday evening Jeff left work as the sun was setting, disengaged the autodrive on his Nikola, joined the freeway, and pressed the accelerator down until the yellow light came on.

 

New Survey – ‘You’re in Good Hands’

 

New Spanko Survey time – this time we’re talking all about hands – hand spanking and all the extras. If you’re a fan of handspanking, you’ll have fun with this one.

 

…there’s also a link at the top of the blog with the survey embedded, in case you want to come back to it later. After enough responders have completed the survey, I’ll post the preliminary stats.

Another fun Future Spank story (f/m spaking)

 

Readers,

Here’s a sweet little untitled entry to the Future Spank story contest – what a wealth of riches we’ve had with this contest!

– Dana

 

 

It was my final year at high school and we were about to graduate. My teacher was Dana10/93, who is a robot. Robotic teachers have largely replaced humans as teachers because they can teach multiple

subjects as opposed to human teachers who largely specialized in one subject.However she was an excellent teacher and she earned our respect. She got us to call her Miss Dana but that
didn’t stop us calling her “Miss Tin Teacher” behind her back.

She had arranged a trip to New Zealand as part of a cultural exchange and we were learn about the Maori
people and their way of life. Before the trip, we received a lessons on Maori protocols and how to behave
when meeting and greeting them.

The school Jetbus picked Angela and I from our homes and whisked us to Las Vegas International Airport
where we boarded a hypersonic Hyperjet. A couple of hours later we landed at Auckland International

Airport in New Zealand where we boarded another Jetbus and then we disembarked at a Maori village in the city of Rotorua.

As soon as we stepped off the Jetbus we were greeted by a Maori woman singing in Maori. When we

entered the village we were suddenly confronted by a Maori Warrior approaching us waving a spear, poking out
his tongue and challenging me to pick up the branch of a tree that lay on the ground in front of me.

Although all our class had been briefed on the correct way to respond to the Maori challenge, Angela and I

collapsed into gales of laughter before Miss Dana quickly stepped in front of me and solemnly
picked up the branch but not before giving Angela and I an extremely angry look.After the welcome Miss Dana wanted Angela and I excluded from the dinner and activities our Maori hosts

had planned for our class and to go wait on the Jetbus, but the Maori Elders convinced her to let Angela and I

remain with the class and enjoy the hospitality and generosity the Maori people are renown for.

After a delicious dinner which Angela and I rather guiltily ate, we enjoyed the entertainment our Maori hosts had
laid on for us, and then it was time to say good bye to our new Maori friends. Then Miss Dana confronted Angela and I.

“Firstly let me say how I am very angry and disappointed in you two for the extremely rude and totally insensitive behaviour  to our Maori hosts. You have not only let yourselves down but also sullied the good name and reputation of our school and for that you two will be punished”

“I have sent a video of you two’s appalling behaviour to your parents and they have allowed me punish you

both in any way I deem appropriate”. “You are both are to report me for detention at school when we get
back to Las Vegas”The plane trip back to Las Vegas was largely silent for Angela and I as we reflected on our behaviour and
began dreading the detention that was coming. Even our classmates were and angry and disappointed at
us for ruining an otherwise successful and thoroughly enjoyable school outing.

We reported to Miss Dana for detention as ordered. She was dressed in an nineteenth century
school mistress attire and we entered a holographic recreation of historic American classroom.
Then Miss Dana addressed Angela and I :

“I have sent a report and copy of the video to the Principal and School Board of you two’s behaviour in New
Zealand and they have recommended to me that I should not allow you two to graduate. However I have
convinced the them both that is far too severe of a punishment. With both your parents permission,  I will

be punishing you both the way rude and disrespectful children were punished in the novel The Adventures of
Tom Sawyer”.

Angela and my hearts sank. We had both read The Adventures of Tom Sawyer as part of our lessons on

I immediately yelled in pain, jumped up and began frantically rubbing my bottom. Tears began welling in my eyes.
Miss Dana immediately commanded me to bend over the desk again.

“You have completely disregarded my instructions to you about moving and your hands.That will be two
extra strokes. You also failed to count the stroke and thank me. I will now recommence your caning”

CRAAACKK!!! The caning re-started. My bottom felt as if someone applied a red hot branding iron to it.
I began to cry and just managed to whisper “One thank you Miss Dana”

CRAAACKK!!! “Two thank you Miss Dana”

CRAAACKK!!! “Three thank you Miss Dana” I was crying uncontrollably by now.

CRAAACKK!!! “Four thank you Miss Dana”. I could barely speak. I had never experienced anything so painful
in my life.

CRAAACKK!!! “Five thank you Miss Dana”. By now my bottom was a mass of stinging, throbbing and aching
agony.

CRAAACKK!!! “Six thank you Miss Dana”

Suddenly my caning stopped and Miss Dana inspected my bottom and lightly rubbed it. It felt so good and I
thought my ordeal was over. She then walked over to the front of me and spoke to me.

“You have taken your punishment remarkably well but you still have two extra strokes to endure. See if you
can get through it without any extra strokes”

She then walked to take up her position behind me and I heard an ominous “Whooop” as she swished the
cane and I felt the three light taps on my bottom again.

CRAAACKK!!! I howled in agony and just managed to blurt out “Seven thank you Miss Dana”

CRAAACKK!!! My bottom was in so my pain I had to rub my bottom. In the nick of time I just remembered

to whisper “Eight thank you Miss Dana”

Miss Dana patiently waited for me to finish rubbing my bottom. “You forgot my rule about placing your hand on your bottom. For that you will receive an extra stroke. For you sake I hope it is your final one”

CRAAAACCKKK!!! My final stroke was delivered with real venom and and was the hardest of the lot. I
screamed in agony and in between my sobs just managed to say “Nine thank you Miss Dana”
I then slumped over the desk bawling.

I then felt Miss Dana hand as she applied her ointment to my bottom and almost immediately the pain and

welts that have covered my bottom began to disappear. I still had faint red stripes on my bottom when I looked in the mirror at home.

Miss Dana then ordered me to pull up my trousers and to sit down at my desk. I sat down rather gingerly
and then Angela and I continued with the rest of our detention which consisted of us composing an apology
in Maori which we did using a Universal Translator and International Languages Database. We then sent the

apology to the Maori Elders in Rotorua New Zealand.

Win a FREE 1 Year DanaKaneSpanks.com Membership! (Give til it Hurts Raffle #2)

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After an immensely fun and successful first Give til it Hurts raffle (see info and links in the top tab), where the prize was a set of spanking implements and awesome video featuring Angel, it’s time to do another fun thing – with PRIZES – for a great cause.

That’s right, I said prizes, with an s, as in plural. To make this as much fun as possible, and to give donors another chance to win, I’ll be holding TWO drawings for this raffle.

 

The winner of Give Til it Hurts Raffle #2 will receive:

 

1 Year FREE Membership to DanaKaneSpanks.com !

 

Unlimited Member Access to over 200  full-length F/M and F/F spanking scenes, POVs, Product Testing with Dana Kane series, and more. Updated Weekly.

…and one Runner Up will receive a FREE 30 day membership to the site.

 

RAFFLE TICKETS ARE ONLY $5 EACH.

($5 = 1 TICKET; $25 = 5 TICKETS; $100 = 20 TICKETS; ETC)

 

Buying raffle tickets (and helping animals in need) is simple – just email me at DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com and let me know how many tickets you’d like. You may choose to pay either through Paypal or with your credit card.

 

*  Raffle runs from March 3 – March 31, 2014. Every single cent donated will go directly to reputable animal charities. All donation totals and organizations in receipt of funds will be posted publicly, with individual donor information always kept confidential. (Payment processors charge percentages of donations, both coming and going…I kick in those percentages so that no money donated is lost on hidden charges.) I’ll also video the drawing so that everyone knows that there’s no favoritism and everything’s on the up and up.

** Purchase price of 1 year membership to DanaKaneSpanks.com is $299.40, at $24.95 for a single month.

*** If you have any questions or would like to nominate your favorite animal charity to receive funds from Give Til it Hurts, please email me directly: danakanespanks@gmail.com.

_____________________________

_____________________________

Spankos, Bloggers, Social Media Butterflies, and all animal lovers in general:

PLEASE help us get the word out about the ‘Give Til it Hurts’ fundraising efforts – every post, share, tweet, facebook/tumblr/reddit/instagram/etc gives us more chances to help animals in need. (And now I’ve made it super simple for you – just click one (or all!) of the share buttons at the top of the post.)

‘The New Toy’ : Future Spank story

Short, sweet, and powerful, I think you’re going to like ‘The New Toy’ – another entry in the Future Spank story contest.

– Dana

The new toy

 

My eyes flickered open to the red glow of the morning sun. I rubbed my eyes as usual and stretched. A familiar voice greeted me. “Good morning Ms Anderson. Here is your morning coffee and newspaper. I took the liberity of downloading all of the morning news and events that you usually follow. Would you like your morning update?”  I declined and just held out my hand. Robert, my 6000 series, handed me the digital file.  As I plugged it into my digitizer the morning briefing came online.

 

There was no bad news today as like every other day. It is so much better then it was before. No  rape, no murder and no one being murdered. The new robots took care of that. They were quite good and  were almost indistinguishable from humans. Their only flaw logic.  Emotion is something that can not be programmed in.

 

As I sat and thought about the days task my mind kept wondering. The new 6000 series was supposed to follow every command. They were made to keep their owners satisfied in every way possible.  They were even able to respond and react to sexual pleasure and tonight I was going to test out how well they would respond to something else. I wanted him to give me the spanking of my life. It wasn’t because I was punishing myself or because I had done something wrong, The digitizer located behind my left ear made sure of that.  I was just because I liked it.  There was something about being bent over over by him that I had fantasized about.  I sat down at my computer and I put together several files for me to upload into his system.  I knew once I uploaded everything there was no going back.

 

The ride to the office was the same boring thing.  Cars were fitted with magnetic pulsars  and roads were polarized differently . They took the same technology from a old bullet train that rode on magnetic rails and implemented them into cars.  Getting rid of pollution and the need for fuel all  together.  The office was just about as boring. The one good thing here was that everyone was still human.  I liked running the leading software company in the world. Everyday I get to face challenges that that is what I liked but today  my mind was not in it and the day just seemed to drag on.

 

 

When I arrived home Robert was not there to greet me as usual.  I called for him but he didnt answer. I figured he must be charging.  I hung up my bad and placed my shoes next to the door and started to walk inside When all of a sudden I felt a hand grab my arm.  I turned around in shock to see that it was Robert.  I struggled against him but it was useless.  I might as well have been an kitten trying to escape. He led me to the bedroom and pulled me across his lap. In less then a second my skirt and panties were torn off.  Then it landed,  the first hit.  It felt like fire had torn across my ass and I flinched and tried to get away but it was useless. Blow after blow  his hand landed  first the right cheek then the left. There was no area that was being missed.  I continued to struggle but it was in vane. Tears were streaming down my face  and I pleaded with him to stop. My pleas were only answered by another blow. Before I knew it my struggling had turned into grinding as the blows came faster and faster. I reached my peak  and as I lay drenched and crying across his lap the blows  stopped. He gently lifted me up and began to caresses my face.  I folded into his arms and sobbed quietly. Thank you Robert I needed that. Now delete all files.

 

Then end.

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

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

– Dana

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, Mexico. (Unrelated to Spanking)

 

Readers,

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

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

 

 

Then there’s Sardinia..

 

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

 

And then there’s Mexico.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Daydreaming of paraíso,

Dana

 

 

Where do they find these girls??

 

Readers,

 

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

 

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

 

 

Belinda Lawson

 

 

Adrienne Black

 

 

Helen Baker

 

 

Stephanie Murray

 

 

Stacy Stockton

The Amazing Noodle! (Unrelated to spanking)

 

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

 

IMG_20140119_090415
As you can see, he is completely without fear – staring down the barrel of the bathtub faucet.

 

IMG_20140124_153019
Able to sleep comfortably in a box approximately 1/3 his size.

 

IMG_20140125_083053
And, most importantly, self-purifying!

 

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

–  Dana 

‘Spank Trek 2099: A Future Oddity

Readers,

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

– Dana

Spank Trek 2099: A Future Oddity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Las Vegas Anecdote (Unrelated to Spanking)

 

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

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

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

That’s right, folks.

I’m talking about Fabio.

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

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

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

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

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

Viva Las Vegas….and D list celebrities.

–  Dana

Fair Warning

 

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

I don’t get it…)

 

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

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

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

Nope.

Remember that.

 

–  Dana

 

 

‘Wise Choices?’ : Fun Future Spank entry

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

– Dana

Wise Choices?

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

The Miscreants and the Top-Bots : Future Spank story

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

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

Spanko Cheesecake

 

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

 

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

 

You’re welcome.

–  Dana

Revisiting Sarah Gregory..

 

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

A few of my recent favorites:

 

Punishment in the Principal’s Office

50 Shades of Spanking

The Workout Burn
The Bitchy Bride

It’s all about Meme

 

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

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

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

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

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

–  Dana

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you like to pursue or be pursued?
Both.

Use three words to describe yourself.
Intent Upon Contentment

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where is your current pain?
I feel no pain.

Do you like mustard?
Yep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘The Errant Robot’ : Future Spank entry

 

Readers,

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

–  Dana

 

THE ERRANT ROBOT

 

Colin woke up with a start.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘I ‘m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘Panties down, he barked.’

 

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

 

‘Crack!’

 

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

 

‘Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

.

‘Hands away!’ barked Colin.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

*

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

‘Colin!’

 

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

 

‘The Libratix wants to see you.’

 

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

 

‘Something to do with administration, she said.’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘Enter!’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘Something has come to my attention Colin.’

 

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

 

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

 

‘What do you mean?’ he stammered.

 

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

 

‘These are personal papers.’

 

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

 

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

 

‘Please…’ he started to beg.

 

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

 

‘And what have we here?’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘I’ll do anything!’ he said.

 

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

 

‘What do you mean?’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘Yes, boss,’ he replied.

 

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

 

‘Yes, Ma’am?’ he tried.

 

She slapped him hard again. ‘Do better!’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

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

 

*

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘I beg your pardon?’

 

‘I mean yes, Mistress.’

 

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

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

 

‘Stretch them out!’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘A paddle what?!”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘Crack!’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Except it wasn’t.’

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

He wasn’t so pleased to see it now.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Colin did as he was instructed.

 

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

 

Colin thankfully did as he was allowed.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

*

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

‘’Well I…’ Colin stammered.

 

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

 

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

 

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

Reflections on a ‘new’ spankos first year

 

Readers,

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

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

for this I am grateful.

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

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

–  Dana

 

Here’s the original email:

 

Dear Dana-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pandora Blake makes great movies

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

 

A few previews from those hot /M scenes:

 

 

Nursing a Grudge

 

 

Military Discipline

 

The Baroness’ New Houseboy

Boarding School Birching

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

 

Readers,

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

–  Dana

 

 

Bottom to the Future

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this discipline?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

Ten Days Later

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I asked for it,” she concurs.

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

“Yes, in so many words.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best Laid Plans

 

Readers,

 

Well, damn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

–  Dana

1000 Strokes Video : Angel Gives Til It Hurts!

 

Everyone,

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

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

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

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

1000GiveTilItHurts

–  Dana

‘Future Spank’ Story Contest Winner!

 

Readers,

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

–  Dana

 

And the winner is….

 

 

Jake Sees the Light

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Ma’am”

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

She accentuated the question with more spanks.

“Ouch, ouch…yes Ma’am.”

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

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

“Ouch, ow. No Ma’am”

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

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

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

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

“Yes Ma’am, ow, please, yes Ma’am”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yes Ma’am”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There, there. That’s a good boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Ma’am, Captain Erica.”

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

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

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

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

End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Give Til it Hurts Raffle #1 Winner!

And the winner is….

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

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

 

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

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

 

Raven Woods Animal Sanctuary : $400

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

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Raven Woods – Minnie Mouse

 

Guardians of Rescue : $200

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

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GoR and RUFFF : The Olympic dogs

 

Rescue Ranch : $100

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

 

 Blind Cat Rescue : $100

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

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

 

Community Cat Coalition of Clark County : $100

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

 

Fund A Pet Miracle : $50

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

Beautiful Blue
Beautiful Blue

 

Becky’s Hope : $50 

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

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Becky’s Hope – Dreamer

 

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

 

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

 

Kalman   $100

Robin   $100

Lab Saver   $25

Dana’s World Record Holder   $50

Oldog   $25

Guardian Angel   $360

Rigel   $100

Randy Lee   $15

Edmonton Spanko   $100

Puggybear   $50

Arrogant Brat   $50

Dante   $25

 

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

Angel

Secret Spanko

Erica Scott

Cheyenne Jewel

Bright Bottom

Kristian Comes Undone

Someone’s Gonna Get It

Chross Blog

Spanked Hortic

Jerry Bear

 

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

 

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

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

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

 

Another VBB Product Testing video : Evil Sticks (on the thighs!)

 

This Product Testing video was shot immediately following the prior, Black Master Senior Paddle, scene, so the VBB was definitely feeling it by the time this was over.

However, since his bottom’s famously tough, I’ve decided to test these awful little things from Caneiac on the backs of his thighs, instead. We (I) have a lot of fun figuring out the best way to swing ’em!

 

A Naughty Young Man’s Punishment

 

Twenty-plus years ago, when I was trying to figure out the best way to make money for records, candy, and the occasional movie ticket, it never occurred to me to attempt babysitting. Having to slog over to some semi-stranger’s house in the late evening hours to sit around on their furniture, eat their weird food, and watch over their annoying if terribly cute progeny? Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather just take the 60/40 chance on begging extra hard for an early allowance allotment.

But things are a bit different now, as I’m no longer desperate for Smarties and Molly Ringwald films, so there are better choices. Now when I babysit, it’s a fun frolic through round-the-clock roleplay with who are, quite possibly, some of the naughtiest adult boys and girls ever. A recent sleepover found the boy in question having his coloring book tossed into the hallway for housekeeping to pick up. It’s tough being a firm and loving caretaker, but I do my very best given the terrible state of most of my charges’ manners.

The point of all this is to set the backdrop for a public shaming earned by previous mentioned boy. After some particularly surly behavior during his babysitting time, he was assigned a report on ‘How to Be Nice to Miss Dana’….

 

which has not been turned in on time.

 

Said young man knew that there would be consequences if his assignment was not finished on time, and one of those is contained here. When he reads this, along with all of you, he’ll learn that his first punishment is to go DIRECTLY to the nearest corner, where he will stand for exactly fifteen minutes. (Are you getting this? I mean right now, mister.) He has further 24 hours to complete the assignment or will be rewarded with 100 strokes of the spencer paddle for his inability to follow instructions.

I hope that this, in addition to further instructions on Good Manners and Proper Behavior, affects an immediate change for the better.

If not, well…that’ll be fun, too.

 

–  Dana

 

Give til it Hurts Raffle drawing coming soon!

 

Angel will arrive end of this month, and while she’s here we’ll video both the raffle drawing and the exclusive 1000 stroke video.

The winner will have the option to either retain the video solely for him or herself, or to allow distribution in which all proceeds will also go to animal charities.

We’re getting very excited about the drawing and have our fingers tightly crossed for everyone who donated. While only one can win the prize, every single participant made a difference through their actions.

Also very exciting will be the announcement of all the worthy animal heroes who’ve received our fundraising donations….$1000 in all! You’ll love reading about these wonderful organizations and all the great work they’re doing, every day, to improve the welfare of animals in need.

Thanks again, so much, to you all.

 

–  Dana

New eBook! Mostly True Stories : Adventures in Discipline

 

Readers,

After some consideration as to heft, I’ve decided to publish ‘Mostly True Stories’ for eReader formats. This first volume contains a few slightly altered yet very real-life short stories from my exploits as a gleeful spanker of adult boys and girls.

 

MostlyTrueStoriesCover

 

The first, ‘Mostly True Stories : Adventures in Discipline’ is now available. Containing four previously unpublished short stories:

I Wasn’t Expecting That

All in the Name of Science

What Were You Thinking?

A Wife’s Frustration

Available both through Smashwords HERE and Amazon/Kindle HERE.

Around 9 thousand words, and priced at $2.99, this small edition of short stories is my first foray into storytelling. If it’s well-received, I’ll expand the concept to either a lengthier version or several volumes. 

As always, I’m interested in your feedback. Leave comments below or email me at danakanespanks@gmail.com.

 

–  Dana

 

Spank Fail

 

Readers, Spankos, Consumers, I implore you….think before you shop.

 

 

A friend sent me this link, kind of a ‘What do you think about this’ type thing, and I sent back something along the lines of ‘Looks interesting, will investigate’.

I’m always interested in new implements, ideas, and gadgets, so I took a look at the above video advertising a small machinated spanking machine. It was disappointing. Not interested in bashing anyone’s mechanics or business here, but this spanking machine looks just pitiful for real purposes.

I’ve seen some of the larger robo-spanker machines in action and, while they at least deliver a ‘real whack’, all these gadgets leave me somewhat cold.

So there’s really nothing wrong with buying this thing – maybe you’ll even enjoy it as a strictly novelty thing – but if you have to work as hard as that poor girl in the video for your spanking then it’s probably best you just reach around there and do it yourself.

–  Dana

PS. I guess that’s really the point of this post :

Does anyone use these spanking machines? And, if so, what is the level of real enjoyment without human contact?

New Spanking Story Contest : Future Spank

 

Readers,

In celebration of the new year and all the ones to come, the theme for this month’s spanking story writing contest is..

The Future

No, not like next month, smartass. Think a bit farther ahead. Think flying cars or living on Mars or robots that are programmed to dole out spankings; think about what the world will be in the distant future, and then figure out how to tell a good spanking story within it.

We see and read a whole bunch of ‘olde tyme’ spanking stories and ‘best of the 50’s’ stuff – let’s see what you can do without the concepts of current tradition.

I’ve come to rely on the creativity and veracity of these writing contest entrants for their abilities to weave an amazingly believable spanking story out of just about any situation they’re given, so I’ll be very interested to see what our intrepid authors come up with for this one.

As always, the winner – chosen solely by me and based on no specific criteria – will receive as his or her prize a free spanking session with me, either here in Las Vegas or any of the other cities to which I regularly travel.

 

And also as always, a few things to remember before you start writing:

 

  • Absolutely no characters or mention of characters under the age of 18. The occasional ‘like a little boy’ is acceptable, but best to keep it to a minimum.
  • Same goes for explicit genital, sexual, or graphic language references. This is about the backside, not the front side – keep it clean, please.
  • Characters may be of any gender, and spankings may be of any genre – feel free to include as many or few characters as you like.
  • Entries are not judged on length, but attention to spelling, grammar, capitalization, and the et cetera, certainly matters.
  • Contest ends January 31, 2014.
  • By entering your story to the contest, you agree to allow me to share/excerpt it here and elsewhere.
  • All entries may be emailed to me, either in the body of the email or as an attachment, at danakanespanks@gmail.com.

Now, get writing – and good luck!

 

–  Dana

Spanking PSA : Tops have Hard Limits, too

 

It’s well-discussed that spankees should learn, know, and protect their Hard Limits – the things in which they are not interested in participating. I always want to know what my playmates like and don’t like, but I’m most interested in their Hard Limits. I don’t touch those – don’t even graze ’em. It’s important, at least to my mind, for those in my hands to know that, even though they’re likely in for a tough time, they can trust that I won’t go ‘there’…wherever ‘there’ is for them. 

So if someone tells me that canes are an absolute no-no for them, then they may rest assured that I will never, but never, strike them with one. If that same person has an aversion to complete nudity, they may, albeit against my better judgment, remain partially clothed at all times. Trust is fragile, you shouldn’t mess about with it. I get that. I also respect the wishes of others, possibly sometimes to a fault, as I’ve gathered on more than one occasion that a playmate was somehow hoping that I would use the information against them. I get it – the notion that your top would exceed your Hard Limit is probably a high-ranking bottom fantasy – but it’s not gonna happen. At least not here.

Conversely, there are some other things which aren’t gonna happen here because they’re MY Hard Limits. These things really have very little to do with you and what you desire (isn’t that horribly selfish of me?), and at this point in my play experience are pretty damn universal.

Without further adieu, my Hard Limits :

 

1. BDSM

Let me be clear here – I am in no way knocking S&M. Some of my best friends are dominatrices, and that’s not a punchline. However, and to be completely frank, I suck at it. I’ve tried – trust me, I’ve tried. But the clothes are restrictive and sweaty, I’m not coordinated enough to swing a single tail, and – most importantly – humiliation is NOT my forte’. The gadgets required to properly torture genitalia appear to be very expensive and extremely fiddly to operate, and I’ve no idea what the curve is on CBT Operator Error. Bondage is pretty but most knot-work renders the buttock area inaccessible, totally killing the rest of the evening for me. Also, I’m never sure what exactly I’m supposed to do to you once I get you tied up like a roast pig. And how long before the circulation to your ears cuts off, anyway?

Of course, I DO love to hit people, and don’t necessarily mind if that doesn’t always occur on the rear, but…

 

2.  I will not cane/paddle/otherwise-strike-with-a-hard-object the inside of your thighs.

Why?

Google ‘femoral artery’.

 

3. For basically the same sane medical reasoning as #2, I will not strike your hands/palms/wrists with anything larger or more lethal than a balsa wood ruler.

Look, there’s a reasonable expectation of discomfort and, in many cases, even the expectation of marking or bruising. But when it comes right down to it, I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in actually injuring you. I don’t care whether it’s okay with you or not – it’s not okay with me. 

The buttocks are a gladly-placed mass of overlapping muscles, fat, and bazillions of teeny little nerve endings. No organs. No bones. No major blood vessels leading directly to the brain. You know, your usual non-lethal ass area. And with the right conditioning, an area which can handle quite a lot of impact, up to and including skin abrasions, repeatedly, and with no ill effect (when cared for properly). Most other areas of the body hold no such distinction, so I prefer to keep the extra-posterior impact to a minimum.

( ** Disclaimer : This doesn’t mean that I won’t slap your face if you get mouthy…I just won’t do it really, really hard.)

 

4. Humiliation

We touched on this in #1, but it definitely deserves it’s own numeral. I do NOT ‘do’ humiliation. Embarrassment, yes; shaming, definitely. But not humiliation.

(I am using my own personal definition of humiliation here, which may or may not jibe with your own.) To me, the difference between humiliation and embarrassment lies in the intent – am I providing you with positive or negative feedback? Example : You’ve eaten all the candy after I’ve told you it’s for everyone. Humiliation would, to my mind, sound like this : “You sick pig! I can’t even look at you – you nauseate me. You’ll sleep on the floor like a dog tonight.” (Told you I suck at it.) On the other hand, embarrassment feels more like : “You ate all that candy? After I told you not to? What am I going to do with you? Don’t come crying to me when you get a stomachache.”

Make sense?

I cannot say nasty things to you. I cannot try to hurt your feelings, make you feel bad about yourself. Can’t even fake it. Say what you want, but there’s enough negativity in each of our minds already without having someone plant bad crap there while your brain’s all wide open. I’d rather be a ‘cheerleader’, thankyouverymuch.

 

5.  It’s really, really, REALLY not okay to touch my ass. Ever.

Ever.

 

–  Dana

Give til it Hurts Raffle Update!

 

** Raffle Closed  –  See Comments Box for Info  –  Raffle Closed **

 

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Current Fundraising Total : $640

That’s six hundred and forty swats to Angel thus far, and I’m hoping to see a number that makes us BOTH nervous by the time we’re done at the end of January.

Nearly halfway through our first Give Til it Hurts charity raffle, and I am genuinely touched (and somewhat blown away) by the generosity of spirit so many have already shown.

I want each and every person who’s participated in any way to understand that you’ve had a direct impact on the well-being of your fellow inhabitants of this planet, and that’s something about which you should be very proud.

 

At raffle’s end, I’ll be posting a list of donor’s pseudonyms, sharers, and organizations in receipt of donations.

Conversations with Spankos Ch. 26 : The Vault

 

Readers,

I’m going to begin this post with a Seinfeld reference, so all those under the age of thirty may take time now to do a google search on it…go ahead, we’ll wait…all caught up? Okay, here we go.

When Jerry, George, and Elaine wanted to express to one another that they were worthy of keeping what may be a very big secret, they’d say ‘I’ll put it in the vault.’ Meaning obvious : the information you’re considering sharing with me is locked away tightly and only I have the key. The great thing about Seinfeld was that things very rarely managed to stay in anybody’s vault for very long and, at the appropriate moment, much hilarity would ensue.

This low-security-secret-keeping is rarely humorous, however, when folks open their vaults in real life – yet it is something which happens all the time, to every one of us at some point(s). We tell someone something which is labeled Secret and they tell someone else, usually keeping the label the same – Secret – which means that the person they just told is supposed to hold him or herself to a higher standard than the vault-opener. But then that person disregards the label also and eventually, rather than hilarity, all hell ensues.

When the information that’s un-vaulted is of a, say, adult nature, the consequences can be catastrophic.

I’ve heard stories about folks in the kink/spanking/bdsm scene who’ve had their vaulted information shared, sometimes with a vengeance and sometimes by mere ignorant chance. The term usually used is ‘outed’, just the same as when someone’s sexual or gender orientation is shared without consent. 

Talking to an acquaintance recently reminded me of just how much most folks with a kinky bend are risking every single time they make contact, of any kind, with another person. Every person in her life knew different things about her – some had no idea that there was any kink of any kind whatsoever ever ever and thought she was just as ‘normal’ as them (whatever that is), and some were rightfully curious/suspicious about a few unusual occurrences or comments they’d overheard, while some were in the loop enough to know that she did some ‘wild’ stuff every now and then. What a juggling routine it seemed to me, and how to decide where to position each new person in life – how to decide how much they should know – and when to be oh-so-very careful with someone who is nosier than all hell.

I’m not so much interested in why people have to separate their kink from the rest of their lives – I get it. My question is : How does it FEEL to have to guard your vault, to decide who’s worthy of a peek and who to trust with the key? What can another person do to insure that you can trust them with your secrets? And how likely do you think it is that you’ll be un-vaulted?

 

–  Dana

A fun holiday spanking story from The VBB

 

Readers,

Here’s a fun holiday story written by our very own VBB – he assures me that this is completely a work of fiction. Ahem, I’ll let you decide…

–  Dana

 

The Thanksgiving Day Football Game

It all started with a short email, which popped up on my screen during one of my “wasting time” web surfing periods. As I lazily read the subject line of the email, I became excited and quickly sat up. My favorite college team sent me an email offering the opportunity to buy tickets to the Thanksgiving Day game! I could not believe it; I finally had a chance to watch my team play against a school rival. The more I read the email the more excited I became, which ultimately lead to an impulsive decision. I decided that not only did I need to attend the game but I also needed to buy the tickets right then and there. It was simple logic, if I wait to buy the tickets they may be sold out and I would miss going to the game. All I could think of was how disappointed I would be if I missed the game. As I pulled out my wallet something told me I better talk with Ann about this, but she was busy in the kitchen cooking dinner and I did not want to bother her with such a trivial matter as going to a football game on Thanksgiving Day. As I entered my credit card number I stopped and thought to myself maybe I should talk with Ann about this. But I was sure the tickets were being grabbed up as I was thinking and there was probably just a few tickets left so I better act now or it would be too late. What’s the worse that could happen? I mean it’s just a football game played on Thanksgiving I’m sure Ann would understand. So I pushed the button and I became the proud owner of College football tickets! I did feel a bit guilty for not talking to Ann about the tickets but I had plenty of time to tell her, Thanksgiving was still two months away. About a month later Ann began making plans for Thanksgiving. We had not really made any definite plans so I was not concerned about telling her about the tickets just yet. As the days went by I thought I should tell her about the tickets, but you know how things go, people get busy, work late, procrastinate and just plain forget. It was now the week of Thanksgiving, plans were made, friends were invited and everything was set in place. Except, I still had not told Ann about the tickets. There really was no reason to worry, Ann planned on eating around 1:00 and the game did not start until 7:30 so everything was going to work out just fine, or so I thought.
            A few days before Thanksgiving I decided it was time to tell Ann about the tickets.  As we sat down for dinner I poured her, her favorite glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, I put on some smooth jazz music and we set down for a nice quite dinner. The meal was suburb, the atmosphere was just perfect and everything was going perfectly. As we finished dinner and enjoyed a bit of dessert and cappuccinos I finally gathered up my courage. “Umm Ann, I have something I need to tell you. Umm a really great opportunity come up a while ago, I got an email offering me an opportunity to buy some tickets for the Thanksgiving Day college football game. I know I should have discussed it with you first, but Umm you were busy and I did not want to disturb you. Plus I’m sure the tickets were going fast so I had to act right away. So I went ahead and bought two tickets to the game, I asked Conrad if he would go with me. Its not going to affect Thanksgiving because the game is not until 7:30 and we will have plenty of time to celebrate Thanksgiving during the day.
Ann sat there looking at me, I could not tell by her look if she was angry or not, after a few minutes she said “Well, I guess it is ok for you to go to the game especially since you already have the tickets.” With that, she stood up and started clearing the table. I thought to myself “see there was nothing to worry about, she does not even care that we are going to the game. All that worry was for nothing.” I helped clear the table and helped with the dishes. Nothing else was said about the tickets and I considered the matter over. The next few days were busy as we prepared for Thanksgiving, the menu was planned, groceries were bought, the good china was cleaned, the silverware was polished and the nice tablecloth was brought out. I reminded Ann that Conrad and I were going to the game and we planned on leaving around 5:00. Ann simply responded with “Yes dear I remember.”
            Thanksgiving day finally arrived, we woke up early and starting cooking, around 11:00 our friends and family started arriving. Everything was going great, dinner was about ready, our guest had arrived and everything was going smoothly. As Ann was setting the table I come up behind her and gave her a hug reaching around her I whispered, “Ann, you are the greatest, everything seems perfect, you have really out done yourself this year. Thanks for being so understanding about the game this evening; I have always wanted to see these two teams play. You are the best” Ann turned around and gave me a small kiss and said “I know you are excited about the game, I’m sure it will be a game that you will remember for a very long time.”  She gave me a wink and walked away. I wondered what she meant by that, but I did not give it another thought.
Dinner was fantastic, the company was great and everyone had a wonderful time talking and laughing. The afternoon went by quickly by 3:30 all our guest had left which I though was a bit strange as Ann liked to socialized well into the evening. Around 4:00 I noticed Ann had disappeared, I was not overly concerned as Conrad was coming over at 5:00 so we could go to the game. I was so excited and could hardly wait. I walked up the stairs and headed to the bedroom so I could get ready for the game. The bedroom door was closed and as I reached out to open the door I noticed it was locked. I found that strange, as the bedroom door is never locked. I gently knocked on the door and after a few moments Ann answered the door dressed in her short black dress the one she only wears when she was going to discipline me.  As she opened the door she pointed to the corner and said, “Go ahead and get undressed and stand in the corner.” I protested and said “Ann you know I have to get ready for the game tonight, what’s this all about anyway?” she looked at me and said “you did not think you were going to get away with buying tickets to the game without telling me do you? You really thought going to a football game on Thanksgiving without talking to me first was a good idea? Now get in the corner, we only have an hour to deal with your selfish behavior.”
                                                                                          
            After 10 minutes in the corner Ann told me to turn around. I noticed lying on the bed was the wooden hairbrush that her mother gave her on our wedding day. Along with the wooden spencer paddle she uses when she really wants to get her point across. “Come over her David” as I walked over to the bed where she was sitting she patted her leg indicating she wanted me to lay across her leg. She liked to have me lay across her right leg as she uses her left leg to lock me in place. This also gave her the ability to control my legs, when she wants my legs to be further apart she just uses her left foot to spread my legs further apart. As I laid across her leg she started to rub my bum, “so you thought you could get away with this little trick of yours, buying football tickets without telling me. Waiting till the last minute to tell me that you were going to the game. Ruining our Thanksgiving plans and not taking my feelings into considerations, you did not even ask me if I wanted to go to the game with you.” I started to answer her, but she slapped me on my bottom and said, “I think you just better keep your mouth shut and take your punishment.”
            She picked up her well warn wooden hairbrush and brought it down full force on my right butt cheek. I protested and said, “Aren’t you even going to give me a warm up first?” Her only reply was to give me a few fast whacks on my leg just below my bum. That’s her spot she spanks when she does not like my response, attitude or when I clinch my cheeks. She usually gives me five quick whacks on the same spot to get my attention. Ann knows the first ten minutes of a spanking hurts the worse for me, so she makes it a habit to spank a fresh spot every few minutes that way my bum never gets a chance to get numb. The initial hair brushing stings the worse and if there is anything I dislike the most it is a stinging spankings. Ann continued to move the hairbrush to fresh areas causing the stinging pain to be spread across the whole bum. When she ran out of fresh areas to spank she started on the thighs, which brought a whole new level of pain and stinging. The thighs are more sensitive than my bum and so it takes less to really make the spanking painful and stinging. As my bum quickly turned a light pink to a darker red Ann lifted the hairbrush high and brought it down with more force. As I lay across her leg I closed my eyes tight and tried to clinch my teeth as to some how lessen the pain. But the harder I tried the harder she spanked. Her whole goal was to get me to the point where I finally stopped fighting the spanking and just simply give into my punishment.  I finally went limp and let Ann spank me without fighting her. “Awe now we can get down to business, go ahead and stand up”she said. As I stood up she picked up the wooden spencer paddle and pointed to the bed, “get on your hands and knees.”
As I got into position she asked me how much the tickets cost. I knew I did not want to answer that question so I stammered a bit and tried to avoid the question. She lifted the paddle and give it a high forceful swing hitting me square on the bottom. It caught me by surprise and I yelled out, which only caused her to hit me again as she said “don’t yell! You know I don’t like it when you yell like that, now tell me how much were the tickets!” I stammered some more “I umm they were, you see they were really a great deal” She lifted the paddle again and landed another hard stinging blow to my bum. I clichéd me teeth and tried my best to keep from crying out. “How much were the tickets, David! I’m not going to ask again.” With that she started in with quick shots to my upper legs increasing the force of the spanking until I cried out “$100 dollars” You spent $100 for these tickets?” I thought for a moment, “I’d just tell her yes I spent $100 on the tickets.” But then I thought better and answered no they were $100 a piece. “You spent $200 on tickets and never thought that you should ask me about it first, I guess you just though an extra $200 would just magically appear in the Bank. Did you even look at the budget before you bought the tickets?” I meekly answered,  “No Ma’am I just figured I would charge it on the credit card and everything would be just fine.” Well, I guess you made a big mistake didn’t you. Looks like you are in for 200 swats plus another 25 for the interest. Now get ready because these are going to be hard and fast.” With that, she started spanking me with the spencer paddle, as she lifted and landed the paddle over and over again on my bum the pain continued to increase. Because they were so fast the pain never really had a chance to go through its full cycle. By the time she stopped at fifty my bum was on fire, the pain cycle was still going through it process and it felt as though it would never reach its climax. Before the pain finished it course Ann started in on another 50. As she started to paddle me again I cried out loud, I could no longer keep my cries to myself. I started to move around a bit trying to control where the paddle lands. This only led to another five painful swats to my upper legs as Ann said, “hold still” As the second set of fifty came to an end, Ann stopped for a minute to allow the pain to catch up before starting again. At this point my bum felt like it was completely one fire, there was not a single inch that did not radiate a burning sensation. As she continued to paddle me I thought to myself “I never should have bought those tickets without asking Ann first”. When she finished with the 150th swat I started begging her to stop, “I promise I will not buy football tickets without asking you first” “I’m sure you wont” she replied. Now hold still we are almost done. By the time she reached 200 I was spent, I had reached my limit, my bum was fully worn out but I still had 25 more to go. She said “these last 25 are going to be slow and hard to help you remember that I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me.” As she raised the paddle she brought it down on my upper legs just below my bum. This caused a whole new level of pain, as the area was still relatively fresh. She landed all 25 swats on the same spot. The pain seemed unbearable as she let each swat go through it complete pain cycle before landing another one. The spanking was so intense that I could no longer wiggle, fight or protest. As she spanked me I had no choice but to fully give into the spanking.
Ann finally stopped; she looked at me and said “You will never again buy something like this without talking to me first, do you understand me?” I looked into her eyes and answered, “Yes Ma’am I will make sure I always talk with you first before I buy any tickets.” “Good I’m glad you understand.” As she walked away I fell on the bed and lay there trying to find some relief from the pain. But there was no relief and I knew I was in for a long painful evening. I knew that throughout the night I would experience wave of stinging pain as I moved about in my seat. I was no longer looking forward to going to the game as much as I had before the spanking

Spanko Distractions #7 : Turn in Your Homework

Tons of stuff to do? Busy up to your eyeballs? Don’t know what to do first?

Here’s your answer : another Spanko Distraction.

You’re late for school; the teacher has already told you that there would be ‘severe consequences’ if your homework wasn’t turned in, on time, at the beginning of class. You have exactly FIVE MINUTES to turn in your homework or suffer the wrath of the meanest teacher ever.

Go!

Maze2

Yay! I love surprises, especially from Erica Scott~

 

There’s something uncertain about the padded envelope. It could contain something small yet really really cool, or it could contain a court summons, or another damn unrequested hemp products catalog, or a misdirected…anything. 

This morning’s mystery padded envelope called for a bit of backtracking : Did I order something from Amazon and forget, again? Nope. Not from Amazon. Am I supposed to be waiting for something and have forgotten before it ever arrived? No, all based covered. Hmm…

Maybe I should just open it.

 

 

 

Yay!! Erica’s sent me the new print version of her book ‘Correspondence Hall of Shame: One Woman’s Adventures in Online Idiocy’! I should open my mail more often.

CHOS, for short, is a long-running segment on Erica’s blog, and she’s taken it to new and hilarious heights in the book. Filled with some of the most embarrassingly funny back-and-forth ever, ‘Online Idiocy’ is an excellent subtitle for the correspondence she’s received in her years of writing, blogging, and online socializing. (To find the book on Amazon, in print or for Kindle, click the book above.)

Thanks SO much for this great surprise, Erica! I’ll do my very best not to drop it in the tub. oxxo

 

–  Dana

Favored Phraseology (Unrelated to Spanking)

 

We all have words and phrases which crop up in our own speech more often than others – favored phraseology, if you will. Many times there are regional influences, dialectical differences, and the like, most of which are part of the diversity of language and usually fun to listen to.

Then there are the ones which seem more like verbal ticks than anything else, like when some people use the word ‘basically’ way too much, or when (tell me you don’t know someone who does this) folks say ‘right?’ after nearly every sentence; there are also the ‘in my opinion’ repeat offenders, and those who like to start every other sentence with the introduction ‘Duuuude…’. 

My most common favored phraseology includes:

‘High-quality problem’ – The term I use as an excuse to complain about things which I have no business complaining, like being really busy with work, visiting my relatives, or having lots of cats who all want petting at the exact same minute. These are all (in my opinion…ahem) high-quality problems, as I am lucky enough to have lots of work, people who love me, and really spoiled rotten pets.

‘This was a terrible idea.’ My general statement of regret before leaving the house to go, well…anywhere. I am a hermit at heart, so even the most exciting, adventure-soaked trek always elicits just a bit of ‘what the hell was I thinking?’

‘Rat Bastard!’ Yes, I curse. I’m an adult, I enjoy language, and there’s always the occasion for a good curse. Rat Bastard!, in particular, is the phrase which flies out of it’s own accord when I do something less-than-intelligent, like a) slam my pinkie toe against the foot of the bed – b) drop a full cup of fresh coffee in the middle of the kitchen floor because I didn’t tie the belt on my robe and tripped over it while walking with one eye open – or c) that thing we talked about recently where you walk into a room, full of determination, only to realize that you’ve no idea why you went there in the first place.

** It’s been brought to my attention (by someone who will wonder why he’s being spanked ‘for no reason’ later, that I also have a tendency to begin sentences with the word ‘Now…’. I guess that’s sort of my cue for you to start paying attention, and have confirmed the regularity of the ‘Now…’ phenomenon by re-watching several previous videos I’ve made. Yep. There it is. I say ‘Now…’ a lot. 

Well, there you go. We all have little linguistic idiosyncrasies, some maybe a little more annoying than others. Do you ever catch yourself doing this? Thinking, ‘How many times did I just say the word ‘honestly’?, or ‘When did I start saying ‘Duuuuude’? Maybe not. Maybe it’s just me, but I doubt it.

Right?

 

–  Dana

The Good Housewife

 

Readers,

My oh my, how the times have changed! Just take a look at these two ads, both using spanking to sell their products, and both also utilizing the archetypal perfect housewife to do so. But that’s where the similarities end…

In this Chase Sanborn coffee ad from sometime before I was born, you see just what could happen to the poor inattentive housewife who accidentally brought home not-so-fresh coffee from her local supermarket. Hubby is not happy:

 

 

 

But in this recent vodka ad, you can see that housewifey has figured out how to make sure that hubby is happy. And also how to delegate:

 

 

Game Night

 

Readers,

One of my famously fun playmates came to visit me here in Las Vegas a few weeks back, and I wanted to help make his trip as enjoyable as possible. So we had Game Night at my place.

Rousing rounds of Abacus Math, Spin the Bottle (previously approved by DrZ to be both fun and safe), and Discipline Darts were followed by my favorite game of the night…

 

A game I called “A…’s Marks – Test Your Strength”

photo 2

 

Thus titled because  a) my playmate’s life partner’s name is A…, and b) she specifically requested that he receive marks during our playtime that evening.

(I LOVE it when partners participate in and/or request discipline!)

The object of the game was to make sure that he went home the next day with a well-marked behind – in the name of his lovely wife – while testing his mettle at the same time.

Using the pictured Marwood paddle, I administered firm strokes to his bare cheeks while he was bent over and making chalk marks for each and every whack. Look closely and you’ll see that many of the chalk marks are pretty wobbly, which should attest to what he was feeling at that moment. The end of the game was simple – he had to admit that he couldn’t take any more paddle whacks. I stopped when he said ‘when’.

But there was just a little more to the game…

The final, additional twelve marks signify six with the awful ugly stick (pictured left, and cracked at the end if you look closely) followed by six with the schoolhouse cane. The final three chalk lines slant sharply upward – perfectly in conjunction with my telling him that the final three would be the most severe…and they were. 

He forwarded photos of the game board to his lovely wife before and after the round was over, and she seemed amused at the concept.

 

I was further tickled to receive an email a few days later, saying that not only had he had a lovely time, but that his wife had had an even more lovely time taking advantage of his sore bottom, once he’d returned home. Awesome!

photo 3
Post Game Night Tushie

 

When I talk about ‘playing spanking’, it’s things like this about which I am specifically talking; no other reason to spank or be spanked than the joy and fun and freedom of the act – and maybe a couple brusies (but only if your wife insists).

This couple rocks, as do all my great spanko friends and playmates, and have agreed to allow me to share the photos and mostly true story above with you…many thanks to them.

–  Dana

 

Give til it Hurts!

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Readers,

My friends and many regular blog visitors know that I’m crazy for critters. Like many of you, I share my home with cherished pets and am grateful for everything they add to my life.

In an attempt to help the wider pet population, I’m going to begin holding regular fundraisers here on the blog. We’ll always play a game, have a prize, or in some other way make it fun – but the main goal is to help animals in need, and every penny raised will go to worthy rescue, spay/neuter, and emergency medical and housing, across the U.S. and internationally. I’ll post publicly the amounts raised and donated, always keeping your individual donations private. If you have a favorite animal charity you’d like to add to the list of recipients, or have any other questions, feel free to email me directly at danakanespanks@gmail.com.

Now…let’s roll out Give til it Hurts with:

 

 

Implement and Custom Video Raffle #1

 

Each raffle ticket you purchase entitles you to one chance at the prize. 1 ticket = 1 chance; Five tickets = five chances; 10 tickets = 10 chances; etc.

Raffle Tickets are only $5 each!

 

You’ll be vying for the chance to win a dual prize :

A set of impressive spanking implements donated by our friends at Caneiac,      and a custom video featuring Angel….

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TAKING A SWAT FOR EVERY SINGLE DOLLAR RAISED

…exclusively available only to the winner of this raffle.

After viewing your exclusive spanking, you’ll enjoy using this huge collection of Caneiac products on your own favorite bottom (or having them used on yours):

CaneiacRaffle1

Includes : White Delrin Loop OTK, Black Delrin 3 Strand, Black Delrin Cane SR, Black Delrin Cane JR, Black Delrin Ever Ready, Gatorskin OTK Rubber Paddle.

* To keep things visible and ethical, I’ll find some way to videotape the raffle drawing, so that everyone knows that they have an equal chance to win.

** Raffle #1 will end Friday, January 31, 2014.

To buy raffle tickets, simply email me and tell me how many you’d like. I’ll send you a Paypal invoice which may be paid with a credit/debit card (no Paypal account necessary).

DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com

______________________________________________

This should be a whole lot of fun, and it’s an excellent way to both help AND play without having to spend a whole bunch of your hard-earned money. 

Naturally, winners will need to be able to receive packages, and will have to provide a physical mailing address in order to receive the implements (video may be delivered either electronically or on DVD).

** I will give the winner of the raffle the option of sharing the Exclusive Video of Angel’s swat count. If he or she allows it, the video will be available to everyone, with all sales donated.

_______________________________________________

Help spread the word!

Many of you use social networking tools such as Twitter, Facebook, Fetlife, and the like; some of you have blogs or websites of your own –

Please take a minute to crosspost or mention our efforts on behalf of those furry little voiceless critters we all love so much.

My sincerest thanks,

  –  Dana

PS. I am also looking for a ‘matcher’ for this raffle. The matcher would agree in advance to match whatever funds are raised during this event, and donate that amount to his or her local animal shelter or rescue. Please contact me directly to discuss.

A hearty Thank you to my top Referrers!

 

While taking a look at Google Analytics, I noticed that for the most part the top referrers of readers to my blog are pretty unchanging. It seems only right to thank these folks for sending you all my way, whether you meant to land here or not.

In the past three months, the top ten identifiable referrers of traffic (not generated by me, naturally) to this blog are:

1.  Cane-iac.com

2.  bottomsmarts.blogspot.com

3.  ericascottlls.blogspot.com

4.  spankingbloggersnetwork.blogspot.com

5.  allthingsspanking.com

6.  spankedhortic.wordpress.com

7.  angelspanked.com

8.  brightbottom.blogspot.com

9.  imasecretspanko.blogspot.com

10. thespankinggalleries.com 

Thanks to you all!

–  Dana

Only in Toronto : Secure Strapping

Step right up, Ladies and Gents!

Now, in addition to all it’s other fine services, Toronto’s Pearson airport is proud to offer Secure Strapping – 

for the stressed traveling spanko on the go.

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It appears as though the strapping is given with those nylon buckle-y things that some people use to tie their suitcases shut. I’m not sure how this feels, but imagine it’s gotta be pretty intense.

There’s a nice man in a suit (which means that he knows what he’s doing) standing directly under the sign, and there’s a little clear plexiglass booth off to the side where I guess the advertised service takes place. Not much privacy, but I guess when you gotta have a good strapping any old plexiglass box will do.

I stood by for around twenty minutes, but there weren’t any takers. The little man in the suit looked disappointed, too, as I’m sure he’d rather be strapping than just standing around. Shame, really, as that would’ve made for a very interesting photo…and maybe I’d have had a better understanding of just what they intend to do with the buckle end of that thing.

So there you have it, folks. The next time you’re stopping over at Pearson airport and need a little Secure Strapping – you’re in luck!

(Please ask someone standing nearby to take a photo.)

–  Dana

Getting excellent feedback on the new site format

 

The new DanaKaneSpanks.com video formatting has been complete for several weeks now, and the feedback from subscribers has been very positive. It seems as though all users are able to either stream much more efficiently, or, even better, download the scenes for leisurely viewing. Many subscribers who reported issues early on are thrilled with the new mp4/download formats, and I’m hoping that everyone else is, too.

If you are – or have been – a subscriber, I’d love to hear from you!

– Dana

Memory Loss : Totally Unrelated to Spanking. Maybe. I can’t remember.

 

Readers,

I’ve forgotten something important, I’m certain of it. Exactly how I’m certain is something worth thinking about, as if I can remember that I’ve forgotten something then that should logically lead to figuring out what said forgotten thing is. I have rattled my befuddled little mind and, well, it’s just gone.

Poof.

You’ve all had this happen, I’m sure, at least in the short term. It goes something like this: “What was I just about to do? I know it had something to do with the garage, so I’ll go into the garage and see if that jogs my memory. Hmm…nope. Okay, I’ll go back to the kitchen and stand where I was standing when I thought the now lost thought and see if that environment gets me back on track.” standing…standing…looking around… “Dammit! What was I….oh, wait a minute! I remember now…”

This is sort of like that, but it’s been days with this nagging feeling of having lost an important train of thought. Was it something to do with work or travel…? No. Pets? No. Something I am out of and need to replenish ASAP? No. Damn. Is it my birthday again already? Nah, that would be way too cruel.

So what have I forgotten?

Much like the question ‘How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?’, the world may never know.

 

Confusedly,

Dana

Get Ready to GIVE

Readers,

We are about to begin fundraising for animal charities nationwide. I’ll be offering silent auctions, custom videos, implements, and myriad other incentives for spankos to GIVE GIVE GIVE!
If you’re interested in helping in any way, please email me directly at danakanespanks@gmail.com.