Ms. Dana Kane – Professional Disciplinarian
"Hold still long enough and I'll spank you, too."
Readers,
Back in June, I posted up a scene from Big Bang Theory in which Sheldon spanks Amy for faking an illness. The scene itself is giggle-inspiring enough, but I’ve just come across the blooper reel from that season…of course there’s no WAY they got through that scene in one take, and the fact that they had to shoot it over and over again makes it all the more hilarious.
The spanking starts right around 1:49.
Enjoy! – Dana
Midnight Snack
Here’s the original post. You can also get there by clicking the photo of the beautiful hugging babies above.
*Copy*
Jeffrey and his brother Jermaine were found on the streets in Philadelphia and rescued by Operation Ava. What makes this pair of puppies special is that Jeffrey is blind and Jermaine helps guide him around. The no-kill shelter has been trying to find the two brothers a home for a while now. They wrote on Facebook, “These two are the best of friends and Jermaine does such a great job of guiding his brother around. We want these guys to go to a home together so that Jermaine can continue to help Jeffrey!”
But despite the fact that their adoption fee has been donated and they were featured on local news television, the loving pair are still waiting for a forever home.
Hopefully, that will change soon, especially after people see this heartwarming photo of the pair hugging. Chester County’s SPCA shared this photo of the brothers on their Facebook page and wrote, “Pictures are worth a thousand words, but this one might just leave you speechless. Earlier we posted a picture of Jeffrey, who is blind, and his brother Jermaine, who has dedicated his life to be Jeffrey’s loyal guide dog. Here they are as they sleep, holding on to each other. The unconditional love and devotion these two dogs show is positively inspirational. Jeffrey and Jermaine are STILL waiting at shelter Operation Ava in Philadelphia for their hero to come rescue them! Please open your heart and home to them! For more information or adoption inquiries, please contact Operation Ava at (267) 519-0376 or visit their website.
Read more at http://www.dogheirs.com/larne/posts/4510-blind-puppy-and-his-guide-dog-brother-looking-for-forever-home-together#iQP5dGfEYW1dPoPc.99
To the 30+ thousand visitors who’ve made the move to this new blog platform with me, and especially to the 900+ registered users –
Thank you.
Sincerely. Knowing that there are people out there reading and enjoying this blog is immensely satisfying to me (although I’ll admit that I’d probably write it anyway, even if nobody read, just to have another way to talk too damn much).
With something like 625 published posts, this thing has become much more prolific than I’d imagined when I began, and, although I do spend a reasonable amount of time complaining about sitting in front of the computer too much, there’s something wonderfully enjoyable about setting out all this funny, personal, and wacko information into the worldwide ether.
I hope that you keep coming back, reading and participating, and that you’ll drop me a line sometime or leave a comment on a post you’ve particularly enjoyed, since getting to know one another is sort of the point of all this, isn’t it?
With gratitude,
Dana
Here’s another fun Product Testing with Dana Kane video – in this one, we’re testing Caneiac’s Devil Loop. Evil!
Enjoy~
– Dana
Readers,
Waxing philosophical.
This isn’t about what happens when we play, but what happens when we don’t.
Even if you are one of the Lucky Ones – those who have someone close with whom you play on a regular basis – sometimes life simply gets in the way. We can’t always be Toppy-Tip-Top and Bottomy-Spankbuns; sometimes we have to be ourselves…our boring, workaday, no-time-or-energy-for-spanking-selves.
I’ve encountered this issue when talking with couple-friends, and also simply when reading the blogs of other spankos; there are times when spanking simply will not fit into our lives. Usually, we simply allow the other things going on to crowd it out: had to get up early this morning, didn’t sleep well last night, hip kinda hurts, work was particularly gnarly, ad nauseam. Sound familiar?
It’s easy to set aside the things we most enjoy when Real Life comes knocking, demanding our attentions and energies. Giving up our pleasures reinforces to us that we’re making a Sacrifice by living our day-to-day lives, and that only when things are smooth will we ‘deserve’ to enjoy those pleasures again. In denying ourselves the things we truly enjoy, we further insure that things will not be fun in the near future. Before you know it, it’s all work and no play, and Jack has become a very dull boy.
Maybe the idea of giving or receiving a spanking sounds like the least appealing thing to you right now, because there’s just too much other crap going on and you don’t feel like it. So you wait til tomorrow. Tomorrow something’s going to happen – there’s a mystery transaction which the bank needs you to sort out in person, or the cat’s all of a sudden making a very strange noise which causes you to rush off to the vet. The point is that there will always, always, always be things which stand in direct contrast to our interest in making spanking (feel free to insert any pleasurable activity here, as it’s really all the same) a ‘regular’ part of our lives. Whether we go the extra mile in carving out intentional time for it is up to us.
Example : exercise. Nobody really likes to exercise. Not really really. Especially at first, developing a regular exercise routine can be exquisite torture – the first two weeks are hunky dory, but things usually get pretty ugly before you get past the part where you’d rather shove a stranger than get back on that damned treadmill again. But you do it anyway, because you want to live longer…and because you feel good after. Also because it will likely make your butt look better, which is an excellent added bonus for any spanko, top or bottom.
Same with spanking, right? You feel good after. It’s the Before that we need to work on. As in many areas of our lives, we often get into the groove of talking rather than doing. We talk about our want, need, and desire to play; we talk about all the things (read: excuses) which are seemingly intent upon making that desire go unmet; and, if we leave it long enough, we talk about whose fault it is that we are feeling unhappy and unfulfilled.
It is my most personal opinion that we all talk entirely too damn much.
So what if you’ve had a hectic day? We’ve ALL had a hectic day. Every adult human on this planet is met with myriad stressors on a daily basis. Using those stressors as excuses to avoid pleasure is, in a word, hooey.
It’s when our lives are most stressed that we need the most relief. If spanking play registers as relief for you, what possible good are you doing by disallowing time and energy to it’s pursuit?
Weigh in here, please. What gets in the way of your pleasure? And, if you’re able to see it from my perspective, why do you allow it? What can we do to make sure that we have the foresight to always make time for joy?
– Dana
Last Spanking PSA we touched on spanko terminology, and this time we’ll look at finding someone with whom to correspond, chat, or play.
As we discussed recently when one of my playmates gifted me some classic spanko periodicals, getting in touch with others of a like mind is different now than ever before. Most of us meet new folks online now, rather than at an afternoon social, and pen pals have been mostly replaced by IM or Skype pals. With all this interaction available at our fingertips, it can become overwhelming for us when we’re just beginning our Spanko Learning Search; it’s easy to end up in the wrong ‘place’.
I’m going to list some online resources which may be helpful in finding others with your particular interests. *Remember that I don’t suggest any particular activity on these sites, if any, and have no vested interest in any site or link – take a look around, and always trust your instincts.
Get out there. Take a look around. Be smart.
And have fun!
– Dana
Readers,
Like many of you, I am an animal lover. Having five cats and one fat little dog currently, and spending quite a lot of time networking for animal rescues and charities on the side, pets are a constant part of my life – and while I know that there is only so much room in any home, there’s still a ton of stuff we can do to help other animals in need.
With that, I’ve been mulling over the idea of doing some sort of fundraising for animal charities. Naturally, as my audience is primarily spanko, the theme of said venture would be somehow tied to spanking.
I’ve thought about setting up a booth at vendor fairs for larger spanko parties, but the logistics of that seemed pretty damn daunting (and costly, which sort of goes against the end purpose).
A spanking raffle, where entrants buy ‘tickets’ for a set amount, with the chance to win a spanking, also occurred.
As has the idea of making custom videos of varying length for donations of varying amounts.
I think all these ideas sound great, but then again I think it’s also a great idea for everyone to just write a check, right now, to their local cause. Barring that, I’m interested in your thoughts and opinions…what do you think would be the best and most effective way to reach spankos for a Good Cause? (Keep in mind that I’m always MORE than happy to give stuff away in pursuit of happiness.)
* It should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: Any amount donated would go directly and fully to reputable, non-profit animal charities, and anyone participating may remain completely anonymous.
– Dana
Readers,
It’s always a special treat for me when one of my favorite authors, UK Laureate, finds time in his hectic schedule to write and share his excellent spanking stories, prose, and poetry, and this time is no exception.
‘The Ballad Of Emmeline Spankhurt’ is whimsical, which means that, naturally, I love it…and think you will, too.
– Dana
The Ballad of Emmeline Spankhurt
This tale I’ll tell from years gone by, the early twentieth century,
In England’s land when males ruled and women were in drudgery,
Their lives bowed down with servitude, their status second-class,
Ambition low, they struggled on to earn a little brass.
But not all women were so meek, and change was in the offing;
Led by Emmeline Pankhurst there’d be no more cap doffing.
“Votes for women” was her cry, “No more we’ll be downtrodden,
We want a world where women have a role that’s strong and modern.”
Her call inspired much ire from those who liked the status quo,
But not so one young woman who was filled with bravado.
‘I’m going to change my life,’ she thought, ‘I want a better deal,
The world will be a better place if men are brought to heel.’
‘In honour of my heroine I’ll take her very name
But change the letters slightly ’cos it cannot be the same;
With s at one instead of eight to show my life intention
And make it clear that for my sex there is a new dimension!’
And so was born Miss Spankhurt, Edwardian disciplinarian.
Her aim was power over men, domestic not parliamentarian;
“With whips not votes” she emphasized “we’ll get emancipation –
The weaker sex will be no more, instead its domination!”
Now her husband was a man of means who owned the local mill;
To honour and obey she’d pledged, in church she’d said “I will”,
But now her will was different, ’twas time to turn the table,
No more would she bow down to him, his rule she’d disenable.
Next day she told him of her plans, no more she’d be subservient,
“From here on in what I say goes, to me you’ll be obedient.”
Her tone was firm, her manner stern, she left him in no doubt
That sins would mean her sexual charms he’d have to do without!
“What’s more,” she said, “I’ll punish you as though you were a child;
Across my knee you’ll swiftly go for spankings hard and wild.
And have no thought from shame and pain your feelings will be spared –
Oh yes indeed, I’ll tan your hide, your bottom duly bared.”
These words he heard with disbelief and not a little shock;
Could this be true or was it all just female poppycock?
He thought it best to humour her and let her notions fade,
And still be there as helpmate and his lover, cook and maid.
Was e’er a man so foolish, his judgement flawed and dated?
Within a week he found himself confronted and berated;
No longer meek and mild she soon hauled him ’cross her knee
And spanked him hard repeatedly, in line with her decree.
But even so he didn’t learn and made mistakes again;
Her punishments she strengthened with the use of birch and cane,
And over time he came to see that she was now the boss –
His actions he amended to avoid her getting cross.
Miss Spankhurt had a friend so dear, whose husband was uncouth,
A scoundrel he, philanderer, who rarely told the truth;
In league the women pondered, a plan him to repay –
A trap they set, temptation, with the promise of horseplay!
Oh what a shock this dastard had, ’twas not what he imagined;
Instead of hanky-panky he was spanked and disciplined.
The horseplay he encountered was designed to give him gyp,
His backside lashed repeatedly with crop and dressage whip.
This tale now moves on two years, our heroine’s fame had spread;
The suffragettes all cheered the way she turned men’s bottoms red.
No longer did she work for free, her fee was guineas three,
Presented to her graciously while down on bended knee.
From all across the land they came, all men with habits naughty –
Both Lords and men of humble birth, some young but most past forty –
To Emmeline it mattered not, she spanked them with vitality;
They left so sore, a recompense for all their life’s rascality.
In keeping with her assumed name she made the spankings hurt;
Not just her hand but whips she used, sjambok, chabouk and quirt.
In all her work she took delight, a smile upon her face;
It pleased her having full control, exposing men’s disgrace.
’Tis said with cane she was severe, and also with the birch;
Her clients spoke of angry welts – or so says my research.
Dear friends, I ask you honestly, can you believe it’s true
That men should seek such discipline and punishment pursue?
Indeed they did, and still today we seek out those who please,
A woman strong and feisty with a whip in her valise.
How good it is we know of one whose name befits her trade –
Ms Dana Kane we love you, please don’t let our spank-marks fade!
Mom’s Secret Magazine
One last, great story from the ‘Spanking Party Star’ writing contest,’Miss Redbuns’ is an excellent way to end the month….enjoy.
– Dana
Miss Redbuns
Readers,
Here is another of the noteworthy entries to last month’s ‘Spanking Party Star’ writing contest. I know you’ll love ‘Accepting the Inevitable.’
– Dana
Accepting the Inevitable
She said that I would be getting spanked tonight in the main room. Not because I had done anything wrong, simply because she wanted to spank me there. When all my protests boiled down to “but I’ll be embarrassed” she gave me that look, the one that said she’d heard me and it wasn’t that she didn’t care, it was simply that her will was overruling my own in this matter.
So here I was trying to unobtrusively wander the room hoping that in all the excitement of having new playmates and all her various other spankees wandering around and all of them more than willing to go over her lap, she forget about the spanking she wanted to give me.
I was, of course, attired exactly as I’d been instructed because much as I didn’t want her to spank me in public at all, I certainly didn’t want her giving me a punishment spanking instead of the “just because” one she’d decided on. I wore a thong because the rules of public play at this event required one for bare bottomed spankings. Over the thong I wore a pair of the full-cut panties she preferred because she had informed me that she still wanted to enjoy the moment of removing them, despite the event’s modesty rules. Otherwise I was wearing my own regular clothes of jeans and a t-shirt since I’d been told to otherwise dress in a manner that was comfortable for me. She wanted me uncomfortable for other reasons tonight.
I have to admit it was a fun party and I’d enjoyed watching the antics of everyone else there. The first night there’d been a school based event with many of the bottoms dressing like school children in uniforms or naughty approximations thereof and everyone who wasn’t “in uniform” got pulled into the play anyway for being out of uniform so no one’s bottom had gone unsmacked if they didn’t want it to. There had been a lot of laughter and teasing and pranks played as everyone was a little bit silly. The spankers had all been dressed as headmasters and mistresses to make the play all the more fun.
The implement demonstration booths had been going strong both nights and there was no shortage of people volunteering to demonstrate how implements worked. There was also no shortage of people volunteering their own bottoms to be used for these demonstrations. It was a convivial atmosphere with slaps and smacks against bottoms echoing through the place non-stop as spankings happened just about everywhere.
But that didn’t mean I wanted my bottom to be on the receiving end of any such treatment. Not in public anyway. It would have been fine in the hotel room and had been last night, when we were away from the crowd but this was…no longer a matter for discussion.
And at that moment, she looked up and saw me, making eye contact from across the room. She smiled warmly and a little teasingly as she crooked her finger at me in a clear command for me to cross the room to her. I sighed and reluctantly trudged across the room like a condemned person going to the gallows.
When I reached her, I stopped at exactly the respectful distance I’d been taught and kept my eyes on her face. She said she didn’t like having her bottoms staring at the floor as it gave their minds too much time to wander. She wanted us to watch her face and pay attention to what she was saying, even when it was nonverbal. The expression on her face now was thoughtful as she read my body language in return.
“I think before we begin you will do five minutes in the corner, missy.” Such a short span of time wasn’t really punishment to me and she knew it. Corner time of that duration was most useful to me as a focusing tool, giving me time to achieve a proper mindset. Of course, it worked best when I was given a thought to focus on as well and she knew that too. “While you are there, think very hard on which one of us in charge of deciding when, where, and why you are spanked. Can you do that?”
I nodded and respectfully said, “Yes, ma’am.”
She looked very sternly at me. “What are you to do?” She prompted.
“I’m to think about which of us is in charge, ma’am.”
“In charge of what?” She prompted.
I blushed. I hated saying the word but knew what she wanted. “In charge of deciding when, where, and why I’m s-spanked, ma’am.” I stuttered the word.
She nodded. “Five minutes then. Over there.” She pointed to a nearby corner, conveniently empty as though she had planned this, which she probably had. “Hands behind your back.”
I nodded and moved silently to place my nose in the corner, clasping my hands together behind my back and standing still.
I began focusing my thoughts on what I’d been instructed to think about, reminding myself that I’d consented to have her in charge and that she was the one who had final say on all spankings. It was calming and helped me slip into the proper mindset, the one that submitted to her will and accepted that when it came to spankings, she knew what was best for me.
I was so into the comforting space of my own mind I almost missed feeling her hand touch my shoulder giving me the signal that my time was up and I could come out. I took a moment to regroup my thoughts before I turned, which gave her time to reseat herself comfortably and be ready for me.
I went to her in a more accepting frame of mind. I still wasn’t completely willing to be spanked in public but I was willing to submit to her and accept what she deemed proper. That was all that was required of me in this moment.
Her hands reached out and unbuttoned my jeans, undoing the zipper then sliding them down to my knees. She gently took my upper arm to help guide me over her lap helping me get situated so that we were both comfortable with my position.
Her hand slid over the panties, tugging at the edges of them, smoothing them out and giving my bottom little gentle pats. Not firm enough to sting but just enough that I knew she was preparing to start. Then she began.
It was clear from the beginning that even though this spanking was just because, she was not playing around. The sharp crack! of her palm meeting my bottom echoed around the room causing more than one head to turn. The sting of it was immense and though I blushed to think about the audience we’d surely attract with all this noise, I didn’t have long to dwell on the matter as the stinging in my bottom built rapidly.
I tried to stay still and quiet but it became readily apparent that she had no intention of letting me be so. When I stayed taciturn past the point where I’d normally be squirming and yelping and wriggling just a little bit to get away, she moved her spanks from my bottom to my upper thighs drawing a startled yelp out of me as I began squirming involuntarily.
She laughed and kept it up until my thighs were bright red and all thoughts of staying still and quiet had left my head. I was squirming enough now that she’d put her other arm around my waist to help keep me on her lap. It was a relief when she returned her igniting smacks to my bottom, leaving my poor thighs alone.
When she stopped for a moment, running her hand over my panty clad bottom, I briefly thought that maybe she’d taken pity on me and we were done. I knew I was wrong a moment later when I felt her hands slip into the waistband of my panties and begin slowly tugging them down.
She enjoyed this moment in any spanking and she drew it out every chance she got. Now, with an audience and me still wriggling slightly on her lap, red bottomed and red faced, she took her time. It felt like an eternity could have passed in the time it took her to ease the panties one centimeter at a time down my stinging cheeks, her fingers whispering teasingly over my hot bottom. When she reached the point where the panties were resting at the base of my bottom, just uncovering my sit spot, she resumed with her hand.
She didn’t have to spank nearly as hard now because that brief pause had been just enough time for my bottom to recover to the point of sensitivity and even though she wasn’t going all out anymore, I still felt every single impact like a thousand ants had just bitten my bottom. And just when I thought maybe, maybe we were about done, her hand took hold of the panties one more time and pulled them low enough to leave my sit spots open.
She took advantage of that immediately, focusing all her attention on that under curve where bottom and thigh meet, making sure that I’d be feeling this spanking well into tomorrow and maybe even the next day. The hard spanks she placed here ensured that every time I sat, every time I moved and my jeans rubbed against this area, I’d be reminded that I’d been well and truly spanked.
Then, just as I was sure I couldn’t take any more, it was over.
I could feel her satisfaction in this whole process emanating from her. She was clearly pleased with the job she’d done, running her hand proprietarily over my reddened bottom and thighs, feeling the heat rising off them. She pulled my panties up deliberately not being careful so that they rasped against my swollen and sensitive bottom and helped me stand up.
I ached to pull my jeans up, well aware that though we hadn’t attracted a large crowd, there were still several onlookers nearby who’d stopped to watch the show we’d put on. But I knew better than to do so without permission.
She smiled at me as I fought to keep from trying to rub the sting away and did my best to will the redness in my face to subside at least a little as there was nothing I could do about my bottom.
And finally, finally, she gave me permission to pull my jeans up, watching nonchalantly as I hurriedly yanked them up, wincing as they scraped into contact with my bottom, and regretting my haste as soon as they were on since they immediately trapped the heat and made my bottom burn all the more. But once they were up I stood in the appropriate spot facing her, watching her face. Watching her as she studied me.
Her smile was genuinely pleased as she looked me over. “There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I considered this question and realized that no, it hadn’t been nearly as bad as I’d thought. Embarrassing, to be sure, but not anywhere near the level I’d been anticipating ever since she’d told me her intention and I admitted it ruefully, “No, ma’am, that wasn’t so bad.”
She beamed at me for my honest admission and despite the burning in my bottom, I felt great. She was pleased with me and that alone made me feel pleased with myself.
She tapped her finger against her cheek and I obediently leant over and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for my spanking, ma’am.”
“You, missy, are more than welcome. Now,” she grasped my arm and turned me towards the rest of the room, “Go play!” And with a firm smack to propel me forward, she sent me back out into the main play area.
When I glanced back several feet later, she already had another lucky soul over her lap, though the brush in her hand told me that whoever it was certainly wasn’t getting off with just a simple hand spanking.
I smiled to myself and was just glad it wasn’t me…this time.
OTK Hand and Strap
Didn’t your mother tell you to always wear clean underwear, in case you’re ever in an accident?
(Mine did, although I think it was a joke, and I never really understood why one would care about the state of one’s underpants in case of emergency anyway. But let’s move on.)
I’ll issue a little disclaimer here and state that this post is mostly for the fellas, as I’ve yet to encounter a situation with any of my female playmates where this conversation would be warranted. Call it a feminine consumer culture, vanity, or simply attention to detail, but ladies never need to be told the following :
“Those underwear are atrocious. You should be ashamed to even own them, much less wear them out of the house.”
In my capacity as Spanker of Many Fun Fellas, I’ve had cause to utter this statement on numerous occasions. But I haven’t.
Why?
Well, I’m not quite sure that Miss Manners covered the subject, and I cannot find a single ‘Dear Abby’ column which handles it, either. And while I’m happy to scold, fuss, and giggle at your discomfort, humiliation isn’t really my thing. I could never say :
“You filthy, stinky pig! Look at the state of your underpants – they’re disgusting. You’re disgusting. Go wash them in the toilet immediately…with your face” (or something. Told you I’m bad at this.)
I also haven’t been able to find a fun/funny way to do it, either…
“Say there, Mr. Cutie Pie, but these tighty-whities are no longer tight. Or white.”
If it were me, any approach that someone took which eventually led to them telling me that my panties were icky would result in immediate and immense mortification. I’d imagine that this would be the case with almost anyone, wouldn’t it?
So you see my conundrum. Continue to be too tactful and/or puritanical to say anything personally to those who need to do a little shopping, and suffer the sight of poor underpants held onto much too long…
…or post something silly and funny here and hope that EVERY MAN who reads this takes a moment today to sift through his drawers and do away with anything that could be mistaken for the Shroud of Turin.
With much love and sincere pleading,
The Girl Who Sees Your Underpants
‘Richard’s Humiliating Spanking at the Party’ is another really excellent F/M entry to the ‘Spanking Party Star’ writing contest . Enjoy!
– Dana
Richard’s Humiliating Spanking at the Party
by Richard
Jennifer and I have been married for over twenty years. As time went on, our relationship evolved. Jennifer became more dominant and I became submissive. Eventually, we introduced spanking into our repertoire. Most of our spanking sessions were “playful” and typically included sex. However, on occasion, when my behavior hasn’t met Jennifer’s expectations, she has administered a punishment spanking. These are severe and do make sitting uncomfortable for a day or so. They have definitely modified my behavior. Now, when she says jump, I jump. Or suffer the consequences.
Every few weeks, the girls in the neighborhood get together for a “girls night in” party and the other night it was at our house. Jennifer asked, which in our relationship means told me that she wanted me to be the waiter for the evening. I said “there is a game on that night that I was looking forward to watching.”
“Too bad. You will be our waiter and I expect you to be a good one.”
So, while my attitude for the evening wasn’t very good, I did what I was told. I greeted the girls as they arrived, served them drinks, passed around snacks, and generally behaved as a good waiter. In between serving, I just sat in the room and sulked because I couldn’t watch the game. The girls just chatted about things that were of absolutely no interest to me. I was totally bored.
And then something got my interest, the girls themselves. There were eight all together and some of them were drop dead gorgeous. Long suntan legs and short skirts that were riding up high on their thighs. I am definitely a leg man. My undoing.
I was looking across the room at Sue, a definite milf. And after having a few drinks, her legs started to part. I couldn’t help myself. I looked up her skirt and stared at her blue panties, I was mesmerized by the panties and what it would be like to roam inside them. I was so engaged in my fantasy that I was totally oblivious to my surroundings. That is until I heard Judy, the neighborhood bitch, yell “Richard! What are you doing? Are you looking up Sue’s skirt? Shame on you.”
I was mortified. “Ah. Ah. Ah.” I stammered. But it was too late. The room was silent. And the red started at my neck and went up my entire face. I was totally embarrassed and humiliated. Jennifer, on the other hand, was furious.
“Richard! Is that true? Don’t deny it. That red face and bulge in your pants tells the entire story. How could you embarrass me in front of all my friends. You will pay for this and I mean right now. Girls, I have to apologize for Richard’s behavior. I hope what I am going to do won’t embarrass you. But Richard needs to be punished immediately for his outlandish behavior.”
“Richard, go and get the bath brush.”
“Jennifer. Please don’t do this. At least please don’t do this now. Not in front of these women.”
You should have thought of that before you decided to look up a woman’s skirt. Now go and get the brush before things get worse for you.”
I got up and headed for the bedroom where we keep the bath brush. It is a solid wooden brush with a long handle. We had just purchased it a couple of days prior. After making the purchase, Jennifer gave me a few swats just to test it out. They hurt. I couldn’t imagine what she was going to do now that she was so angry. And in front of all the neighborhood women. How was I going to walk down the street and see them after being spanked by Jennifer in front of them. And what if they tell their husbands? I’ll be the laughing stock. But I knew I didn’t have a choice but to take what Jennifer decides.
When I returned to the room, it suddenly went quiet. I assume Jennifer told them what she intended. I walked up to Jennifer and handed her the bath brush.
“Well Richard. What do you have to say for yourself? Apologize to Sue.”
I turned to look at Sue. “Please forgive me Sue. I was looking up your skirt. A gentleman would never do that to a lady. I apologize and deserve to be punished.”
Sue said “I’ll wait to see how well you take your punishment before I tell you if I accept your apology. If you accept your punishment, I’ll accept your apology. But your punishment will continue until I am satisfied.”
Jennifer then said “okay Richard. Let’s get started. Stand in the middle of the room and remove your pants.”
“What? No please Jennifer. I’m too embarrassed to do that in front of our friends. Please don’t make me do it.”
“You saw Sue’s panties. It’s only right for everyone to see your shorts. Drop those pants now!”
I had no choice. As my face turned red again, I slowly removed my pants and stood in the middle of the room.
“Bend over and grab your ankles and look at Sue. I want her to see how you respond to your punishment.”
As I bent over facing Sue, Jennifer stood behind me and swung the brush. Whack! Whack! Whack! Three quick smacks broke the silence. And these weren’t the fun swats from a few nights ago. These were punishment swats and they hurt.
“How does that feel Richard? Was it worth seeing Sue’s panties? We’ll see.” Whack! Whack! Whack! Three more quick ones. And the girls began to giggle. I’m not sure what was worse, the pain in my ass or the humiliation I was suffering in front of the girls.
“This isn’t enough. Those shorts are offering too much protection.” With that, Jennifer put her hands in the waistband of the shorts and pulled them down below my ass. “Now you will be able to watch as his ass turns from white to pink to red or worse.”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. My naked ass was there for them to see. I knew I would never think of me the same way again. I would always be the sissy who is dominated by his wife.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Three more on the naked ass. Those hurt so much more.
Now the girls started to comment. “Look at his ass. It is turning red. I love it. Keep going Jennifer. He deserve a lot more than that.”
And a lot more I got. Jennifer hit me twenty times before she stopped. My ass was sore and starting to heat up. I wondered how many more she would give me. I was ready to be done. Was I ever mistaken.
“Okay girls. Who wants to be next?”
Next? It isn’t bad enough that Jennifer is spanking me in front of them. Now she is going to let another girl use the brush. I thought about protesting but knew it would be useless. Jennifer was on a mission. I knew this was going to be the worst punishment spanking I had ever received.
“How about you Paula? Do you want to go next?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never spanked anyone before.”
“Well it’s time you did. You’ll find out just how much fun it can be. You may even like it enough to spank your husband when he misbehaves.”
“Okay.” And with that Paula took the brush, took a stance and swung.
Swat. Swat. Her hits were very light.
“That will never do. Swing hard and hit his ass like you mean it.”
Swat. Swat. Swat. Three more hits that were harder but no where near Jennifer’s.
“Those love taps don’t count. Swing really hard. If you don’t we may just have to give you a few so you know what hard swats feel like.”
Well I guess that was enough incentive for Paula to really get into it. Whack! Whack! Whack! And those really hurt.
“That’s it. Now you are getting into it. Give him a total of twenty. And she did.
“Okay girls. Now you see how it is done. Richard. Now it is your turn to choose a girl. Crawl on your knees to the girl of your choice, hand her the bath brush and ask her to please apply twenty very hard swats on your naked ass. But we will save Suefor last.”
Could things get worse? Now I had to ask the girls to give me a hard spanking with the brush on my very sore naked ass. I didn’t know how many more girls would have a turn. So I decide to choose Karen, the smallest girl there. Boy was that a mistake. I didn’t realize it but Karen works out in the weight room four days a week. Her swats were harder than Jennifer’s. And they brought tears to my eyes. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
“Okay Richard. Choose your next girl.” And so it went until there were only two girls remaining, Sue and Judy, that neighborhood bitch that caught me. Judy is a big woman. Somewhat overweight and, in my opinion, a slob. We’ve never gotten along. If it was her legs that were spread, I would have never gotten in trouble.
“That leaves Sue and Judy. Crawl over to Judy and ask her paddle you ass.”
Dreading every second, I did as I was told and crawled over to Judy. “Judy. Please use this bath brush and apply twenty very hard swats to my naked ass.” I couldn’t believe I was asking this woman to do this to me. But I did it.
“Well Richard, these girls don’t really know how to swing a hair brush. But I do. I used to have a sissy boyfriend and there was many a night that he slept at the foot of my bed with an ass that radiated heat form the spanking that I delivered. Crawl into the middle of the room, stay on your knees and touch your head to the floor.”
I did as instructed. I knew this was going to be bad but I had no idea just how bad. She straddled my body facing my ass and gripped my body with her legs so I couldn’t move. And then she swung. Whack! Whack! I couldn’t believe the pain as she swung. Maybe it was because she was working on a super sore ass, but her swats were worse than Jennifer’s have ever been. I couldn’t help it. I screamed when she hit me. By the fifth I was in tears. By the twentieth, I could barely catch my breath I was sobbing so badly. I was a sobbing mess with an ass that had passed the point of red.
At this point, Jennifer stepped in. “Well Sue, since you were the offended party, I was going to let you give Richard as many swats as you thought he deserved. But, after Judy did such a marvelous job, I don’t think her can take anymore. So, rather than spanking him now, I will give you a rain check. At some time in the future, you can ask Richard to bring out the bath brush and you can give him a many swats as you like on his naked ass. And you can do it any where you choose and in front of anyone you choose. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes Jennifer. It is. With the state of Richard’s ass right now, I don’t think he would get the full effect that I would like to deliver. Plus, I really like the idea that I can punish Richard on his naked ass whenever I want and in front of whoever I want. And I think I know the perfect situation.”
“Okay Richard. Seems as though Sue is going to let you off tonight. But I can’t wait to see what she has in store for you in the future. Now, to finish you punishment, you need some corner time. When you are not serving us, you are to stand in the corner with your ass exposed. Now thank Sue for not paddling you tonight.”
I was barely able to crawl over to Sue. And with tears streaming down my face and between uncontrollable sobs I managed to say “Thank you Sue for having mercy on my very sore ass. And I want to apologize again for looking up your skirt.”
“Apology accepted.”
And that is the story of my party spanking. A few days latter, when the pain and bruising started to subsided, I began to fantasize about what Sue had in store for me. But that’s another story.
None of us thinks about the same thing all the time, thank goodness. I, like most of you, spend a bit of time engaging in things which are absolutely unrelated to spanking (although I try to keep it to a minimum), and sometimes enjoy things which are totally useless and nonsensical.
Since we could all of us use more silliness in our lives, I’ve added a few things below which you might enjoy…
First, one of our most revered singer/songwriters, the amazing Dolly Parton. Even folks who don’t care for country and western music would have a hard time finding something bad to say about this talented and funny woman, and after seeing this video I love her even more:
Next, a somewhat older video, but one that never fails to make me laugh hysterically and inappropriately. If you need me to explain why this video is hilarious, then you’ve not looked closely enough…
And finally, this guy, who’s just awakened from anesthesia following surgery and doesn’t recognize his wife of many years…
The ‘Spanking Party Star’ writing contest turned out a lot of really good stories, and this one’s no exception. Enjoy ‘The Boomerang Effect Times Two’!
– Dana
Readers,
An excellent short F/F, F/M story entry to the Spanking Party Star’ writing contest, ‘Megan Becomes a Top’ is a fun read!
Enjoy~
– Dana
After having launched the DanaKaneSpanks.com member site, it became clear yet again that a) being a spanko and b) making spanking videos and even c) being pretty good at figuring stuff out in general – doesn’t mean that you’ll understand a damn thing about computer programming.
As regular readers and correspondents know, I took a crash course in video formatting, operating system limitations, and browser incompatibility. Long story short: there’s no single, universal way to make and disseminate video content while insuring that EVERYONE EVERYWHERE may access it simply and successfully. Some early subscribers had a hard time buffering and/or streaming scenes within the member area, and a few were unable to access the Flash videos at all.
So, with a Herculean effort by a wonderful new webmaster, and several weeks of converting and reformatting ALL the videos (around 180 now, I think), I’m happy to announce that the entire archive on DanaKaneSpanks.com has now been made easily accessible to all subscribers.
How did we do this? I’m glad you asked…
All scenes are now available in both high and lo-res MP4 versions (for slow browsers, dial up connections, and mobile devices), and, best of all,
all videos are now DOWNLOADABLE in both versions! So even if your browser doesn’t love MP4’s, or your Windows Machine working on Firefox won’t stream embedded videos, etc etc, etc – you can still watch the videos, no buffering, no trouble, by simply downloading and watching through your machine’s default video player.
THE CONTEST
To celebrate finally finishing this massive project, I’m holding a contest just for DanaKaneSpanks.com site members. The winning member will receive a free subscription to the website (if your current membership is for 30 days, you’ll get 30 days free. If your membership is for 90 days, you’ll get a FREE 90 day extension.)
The contest is simple. I’ve added the photoset “How Many Panties” to the member’s area on DanaKaneSpanks.com. Enjoy the 60 photos taken from a spanking Angel received for bringing way, way, way too many panties when she last visited. When you’re done, try to guess How Many Panties Angel is being punished for. The first member to guess the correct number (kinda like ‘How many jellybeans in the jar?’) is the winner. If no one guesses the number exactly, the nearest guess will win.
*Remember to include your DanaKaneSpanks.com username when sending in your guess, and email it to me at danakanespanks@gmail.com.
– Dana
Readers,
All this month we’ll be enjoying spanking story entries from the ‘Spanking Party Star’ writing contest, and here’s one of many excellent offerings –
The Party.
Enjoy!
– Dana
How do I get myself into these things I mused as I stood naked beside my Mistress knowing that in a few minutes I would be exposed before an audience of, well who knew how many. Despite my nudity I was sweating and my legs were shaking. I looked across at Mistress who was wearing her best “domme” outfit and she gave me an encouraging smile. Looking over to my left I saw a young woman in a similar state of undress who also looked very nervous. I had learned earlier that her name was Elizabeth and like me she was new to these affairs. At least she’s attractive I thought, whatever else happened this evening people weren’t going to laugh at her appearance.Me, well that was a different story, a funny looking bespectacled middle aged man with a beer belly, who wouldn’t laugh? Suddenly I saw Elizabeth tense and realised that the sounds of chatter in the next room had stopped. Then I heard the voice of the M.C. ” Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to thank you all for coming to this, the 5th annual spankathon in aid of Cancer Research. I hope you are all having a good time?”There were loud cheers and a few shouts of “get on with it”. It sounded like there were hundreds of people out there and I fought back an impulse to turn and run away. The M.C. gave a brief summary of the work of the charity that the evening was in aid of and then came the words I had been dreading. “Without further ado lets met our guests of honour. Please give a warm welcome to Mistress Ava and Simon and Master James and Elizabeth” With that the door was opened and I was, with the help of a little push from Mistress, propelled out into the main room of the hotel.
Okay, this video isn’t at all about Amanda Bynes (who is, apparently, truly very ill), but Justin Bieber – another of the young celebrities I mentioned needing discipline.
In this ‘Between Two Palms’ interview/spoof, Zach Galifianakis, the host, asks young Bieber several ridiculous questions and receives several ridiculous answers…the whole thing’s pretty silly.
But watch the whole video, because close to the end, wait for it…
Zach takes his belt off.
Readers,
I’m sure that this has been done before, and probably more thoroughly than I’ll manage here, but we do have newcomers to the spanking community every day and not everyone knows where to look for basic information on the ins and outs and all-arounds of spanking.
So. I thought that it would be a fun idea to do a series of posts to offer some basic (and not-so-basic, eventually) stuff for newbies to peruse. I’ll invite experienced players to expand on my posts in the comments area below, so that your collective wisdom can help inform others…remember, we were all clueless about all of this at one time.
It seems that a good place to start is with some basic terminology. Even though this stuff appears to go without saying to some of us, even the most common spanko terms may be confusing to newbies. With that said, let’s cover some of the most common spanking terms..
(Please keep in mind that some folks will define a few of these terms somewhat differently, depending upon their personal experience/preferences, and it’s important to discuss these things with anyone new with whom you play/communicate.)
Spanko – Short for ‘spankophile’, it’s a term which we use to refer to ourselves and others with an interest in spanking and domestic discipline/corporal punishment. (Note: Spankophile does not appear in the dictionary, nor am I trying to overcomplicate a simple term. These words and explanations are here to help NEWBIES when they see words they may not understand (in our parlance).)
Top – A person, of any gender, who only gives spankings but does not receive them.
Bottom – A person who only receives spankings but does not give them.
Switch – A person who both gives and receives spankings. Some switches may refer to themselves as a “50/50” switch (meaning they equally enjoy both top and bottom roles), or a “mostly-toppy” switch (meaning that they like to bottom occasionally but prefer to top), etc. etc.
*Note: Switching can also refer to the act of spanking someone or being spanked with a switch, as in “Go cut me a switch.”
Corporal Punishment – This occurs when one person uses physical touch, either with hand or implement, on one or more parts of the body, with the intent to cause another physical discomfort.
Discipline – This occurs when one is held accountable, through corporal punishment, for negatively-perceived behavior.
Punishment – See Discipline. Usually, the difference between these two terms is subjective to the level of negative behavior and the agreement of the parties involved.
Maintenance – These spankings usually occur on a regular or semi-regular basis, and are most often for the purposes of keeping one ‘on the right track’, so to speak, either mentally, physically, emotionally, or all of the above.
Non-Corporal Punishment – Often used in tandem with spanking, these activities include corner time, mouth-soaping, writing/reading assignments, and many others.
Role Play – Within the context of a spanking ‘scene’, role play refers to the top, bottom, or both, taking on the persona of another person or time. Examples include: teacher/student, boss/employee, etc.
Limits (or Hard Limits) – This is usually meant to indicate ‘no-go zones’, and are subjective to the player. Example : “My hard limits include bondage, canes, and thigh spanking.” This means that the example person does NOT want bondage or canes utilized during spanking play, nor do they wish to be spanked on their thighs.
We’ll take our time to cover the myriad terms, sayings, and situations we use within the spanko community, but if you’ve a question about any basic spanko terms (or have any to add), please share here.
– Dana
Here is yet another silly, sometimes-hilariously-contradictory episode of Tips for Tops. I give you…
Good Leather.
Readers,
I know you’ll love this entry to the ‘Spanking Party Star’ writing contest, titled The Surprise Party….I did.
– Dana
THE SURPRISE PARTY
My wife spanks me. As strange as that image might seem to some, it is that simple. She doesn’t walk around the house dressed in a leather cat suit brandishing a whip and we don’t have any kind of a master/slave relationship. There is no dungeon equipment hidden behind a secret door in our basement. We don’t engage in any complex fantasy role playing. Dawn spanks me. When she thinks I need one, my wife simply puts me across her knee for a good old fashioned spanking.
And it works for us. It works very, very well. I have the kind of personality that lacks discipline and Dawn loves me enough to provide some. Aside from this one aspect of our life, our relationship is an equal partnership. We collaborate on household decisions and matters pertaining to our children and our business. But when it comes to my discipline, Dawn has complete control. When she provides me a list of chores, I am expected to attend to them. Other wives may have to continually nag their husbands to complete household repairs but mine asks me only once. If she has to tell me the second time, it is her hairbrush or her strap that does the talking for her. There is seldom a third time. When I get overly sensitive or moody, ten minutes positioned over a pile of pillows on our bed as she uses her cane to reprimand me rarely fails to get me out of my funk. Disrespecting Dawn earns me my hardest spankings. Disrespecting myself is a close second. We are extremely happy. Our friends notice it. Our kids notice it.
We married young and over 20 years later, our love life was as vibrant and passionate as it ever had been. We spent as many hours together as life would permit and revelled in it. Spanking keeps me in line and keeps us intimate as a couple. As much as her discipline sessions hurt at the time, I have grown to both anticipate them…and relish in the glow afterwards. As odd as it sounds, I can feel the love in her hands as she disciplines me.
Dawn had always spanked me long enough and hard enough to get her point across, but she was also in tune with my physical reactions. She could sense when I had reached my threshold. Soon after my pleading and squirming reached a certain point, she felt the lesson had been learned and her spanking would end. I would kiss her hand and thank her for loving me enough to discipline me. I meant every word of it…and I lived to show her that I meant it with my actions also.
When the internet rolled around, we found out we were by no means alone. In fact we connected with many other couples who shared in our lifestyle. Web browsing lead to emails, emails to phone calls, phone calls to dinner dates, and before we knew it Dawn and I were getting together with other femdom spanking couples on a regular basis. Mostly it was a weekend here or there with a few couples along with one annual gathering involving a larger number of husbands and wives. For the most part it was all pretty light hearted. Gatherings included some mild spanking games flavored with lots of great fellowship and laughter. While there was the occasional firmer spanking session from another wife, for the most part all of my genuine discipline spankings still happened at home. It was at one of those annual gatherings when that changed.
It was a Saturday morning. There were seven couples that year, all of us very familiar and very open with each other. We had laughed plenty by that point. There had been lots of games and every husband had felt a degree of swats from each wife with vast assortment of implements. Our bottoms were certainly kept reddened but by no means overly abused. We had almost reached the point where just our being together as a group had become more enjoyable, more important, than the spanking aspect. All of the husbands would soon find out that our wives had decided to add a bit of a twist to that year’s celebrations. I found out right after breakfast.
As we husbands put the finishing touches on the kitchen clean up, Charlene entered the kitchen. Charlene was considerably taller and larger than Dawn. She addressed the husbands with the same authoritative voice she often used with her own husband. When she told them to go outside and collect some firewood for the evening bonfire, none of the men disobeyed. When she told me to stay with her, I didn’t disobey her either. Charlene was a sweet and caring woman, but she also gave off a clear impression that she was not to be disrespected. Her husband had confirmed that she could indeed deliver a memorable paddling when crossed. None of us doubted his account of her severity.
When the kitchen had been vacated, Charlene led me into the large adjoining living room. The remainder of the women were seated comfortably on the sofas and plush chairs that lined the perimeter of the room. The center of the room had been cleared of everything but a large leather ottoman. On top of it sat a broad oval hairbrush and a considerably larger bath brush. Dawn looked at me and smiled. None of the other ladies said anything.
Charlene sat on the ottoman and called me to her side. When she spoke, she spoke as if it was just the two of us in the room. Her voice was firm and no-nonsense. She proceeded to inform me that the ladies had decided that each husband would receive a disciplinary session from one of the other wives. Mine was to be from her and I was about to get it right there and then. She went on to list a detailed account of the infractions Dawn believed I deserved to be punished for. I looked towards my wife. Dawn was no longer smiling. Charlene chastised me and told me to pay attention to her and her alone. I quickly returned my gaze to her direction. She went on reciting the litany of my shortcomings and outlining the expectations that my behaviour would change. After what seemed like an eternity of humbling scolding, she picked up the hairbrush and told me to bare my bottom and get over her knee. I complied, knowing full well I was about to get a very good tanning.
Charlene wasted no time. The brush fell the second I was over her lap. Quick and harsh. She was a very hard spanker. Unlike Dawn who usually gave a number of lighter warm up smacks, Charlene got right down to business. She was strong and her strokes were rapid and full force right from the onset. She began with five or six spanks to the same spot on one cheek. Then the brush descended the same number of times to the opposite cheek…before returning to a spot close to the original strike zone with yet another series of blows. And so she went on, a sequence on the right side followed by a sequence on the left side, back and forth, back and forth, until my entire backside burned. Only then did she take a break. A respite just long enough to adjust my position, raising my bottom more over her left knee, allowing her to swing her powerful right leg over my calves to prevent my continual squirming and kicking.
And the spanking resumed. Charlene then diverted from her previous method. Instead of multiple strokes to a singular spot, the brush now fell randomly, each spank to a different spot on my behind, sometimes alternating from cheek to cheek and other times finding different targets on the same side. The force and speed of the spanking did not slow down, if anything she seemed to increase the tempo. She was also including the tops of my thighs with this second round. I was nearing my limit. My vocal pleas to both Charlene and my wife were becoming more desperate by the moment. I assumed Charlene was reading my reactions when she finally ceased with the spanking. I was more than relived as I awaited her to release the leg hold and instruct me to stand. Much to my chagrin, my spanking was far from over.
Charlene held me firm and once again went over Dawn’s list of infractions. After each item she asked me if I understood and intended to address the problem. I choked out a “Yes Ma’am” to each. When she was satisfied with my responses, she got right back to work with the hairbrush. For a good ten more minutes that brush rained down, side to side, top to bottom in its relentless mission. At some point I realized Charlene was speaking to the other wives. She was explaining how she had discovered long ago that the most effective discipline spankings went on long after her husband wanted them to stop. Indeed it was only after he had reached his threshold that the real punishment began.
She was right. Long before she finished that final hairbrushing I had both physically and mentally handed control over to her. Her leg still pinned me down, but I had completely ceased any struggling and had resigned myself to accepting whatever amount of punishment she felt I deserved. I was being disciplined. Nor did I hesitate when she finally released me, stood and commanded me to lay prostrate over the ottoman.
She finished her spanking with twenty slow strokes of the bath brush. I was instructed to count each of them off. Dawn sat on the floor in front of me, holding my chin in her hand and gazing into my face as the brush hit home. When Charlene was finished, Dawn added another twenty of her own. I was not permitted to get up off the ottoman for another ten minutes. I had to lay there with my blistered bare behind on display as the ladies discussed what they had witnessed.
All of the husbands received a similar treatment before the weekend was out. The implements and the positions changed to meet each particular wife’s taste in discipline, but all of the men were just as surprised and just as thoroughly spanked.
That weekend, that party, that punishment only strengthened our relationship. I remembered what Charlene had told me and worked to make myself a better husband. When I fall short, Dawn’s knee and her hand are always there to remind me. I am blessed to have a wife that loves enough to spank.
END
…it’s my birthday too.
(Insert that cheesy birthday song here.)
October’s my birthday month, and this year I’m turning 41. I’m still waiting for that upset/obsession about being over 40, but as it hasn’t happened yet I cannot comment on what the fuss is all about. I know that, by societal mores, women are suddenly *of a certain age* when they are no longer in their thirties, and they’re not supposed to be happy about it. (It should be noted that I am deliriously happy to be ANY age, because that means that I’m still here. This is a recurring theme for me, apparently. Attendance.)
Other things of note:
When you’re (a woman) over 40, all of a sudden folks think it’s a compliment to say “Wow. You don’t LOOK forty (or fifty, or whatever)!”.
That’s not a compliment.
What the hell do you think forty (or fifty, or whatever) is supposed to look like? Should a woman no longer thought of as ‘youthful’ all of a sudden develop a dowager’s hump and conspicuous upper lip hair? Must we all sag and bag and droop in inappropriate places? That sounds more like 80 than 40, doesn’t it?
Once we’ve left our most-sensibly-timed childbearing years behind, we are also supposed to be less sexy, in practice and in perception – somehow, by process of elimination of viable pregnancy and gestation (which, I cannot stress enough, is NOT a bad thing), our hotness factor is somehow inexplicably reduced. Here, I challenge any woman who’s lived through her 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s (or beyond) to announce that she felt more sexy, sensual, and body-confident in her twenties than she does now. I, for one, am more happy with my physical reality than I’ve ever been – because it’s CONFIDENCE and EXPERIENCE which are really important…collagen’s just a pretty wrapper.
This isn’t to say that vanity isn’t a part of my middle-age reality. I know that I’m 20 years older than I was 20 years ago, and I know that nobody in their right mind would card me for booze at this juncture in my life. I’m okay with both of those things, and with the knowledge that, no matter how others may perceive me –
I’m here. And I’m happy. And that’s all that matters. (Even if I do sometimes do that thing in the mirror where you pull your cheeks up with your index fingers to simulate a Joan-Rivers-facelift-look.)
– Dana
If you’re a gift-giver, below are a couple links which you may peruse:
DONATE to the Nevada SPCA (Where we recently adopted Buddy, our sweet little elderly MinPin. Hundreds of rescued dogs, cats, and other pets daily.)
DONATE to the Salvation Army (They do good things, right in your community, every day.)
My Amazon.com WishList
Readers,
It is my pleasure to share with you the winner of this month’s ‘Spanking Party Star’ story contest – My First Party.
This was likely the most difficult contest judging to date. As you’ll see throughout the month of October, there were several excellent stories submitted, so I read and reread until I was certain I’d made the right choice.
In the case of ‘My First Party’, not only is the story well-told and the characters and dialogue funny and believable, but the author’s taken the time to educate the reader – spanko terms, implements, relationships, etc – throughout the telling of the story. I hope you enjoy it, and all the rest, as much as I have.
Thanks again to ALL the willing authors who’ve worked so hard over the years to make the writing contests fun and competitive!
– Dana
MY FIRST PARTY
By Randy Lee
I got out of my car, collected my purse and workday tote bag, and walked toward the steps to my second-floor apartment, pointing the remote behind me to lock the car. I hadn’t taken five steps before sweat beaded on my forehead and was about to trickle down my face. I unlocked my mailbox, retrieved my mail, and started up the stairs.
“Hi, Randy. I’m sure glad the weekend is finally here.”
I paused, turned, and saw Sandra Barnes, my three-doors-down neighbor, who was climbing the stairs a few steps behind me.
“Wow, me too,” I agreed. “This has been a real rough week at work. As if just being busy weren’t enough, there’ve been so many difficult customers and just as many difficult bosses to contend with. I’m really looking forward to being able to relax.”
“I’m with you there,” Sandra replied. “I’m going to a party later. Just the thing to wind down from a hectic week.
I reached the top of the steps and looked down at her. “I’ll think good thoughts about your head tomorrow,” I offered.
She looked puzzled as she reached the top. “My head?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
I explained, “You know, a hangover. I don’t drink anymore, but I still remember what it feels like the next morning.”
Sandra paused. Searching for the right words, she said, “Um, well, it’s not that kind of a party. In fact, there’s no drinking at all.”
“A party with no drinking? Well, that’s a new one on me.”
Sandra cocked her head and looked away for a moment, her brow knit in concentration. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she again looked in my direction. Hesitating briefly, she said, “You and I are pretty close. Come over to my place for a minute. I’ll explain.”
I followed as she walked to her door. Unlocking it, she invited me in. We plopped our gear on the sofa, and she said, “Have a seat. Want some tea?”
“Yes, please,” I said. “It’s hot out there. Tea would really hit the spot.”
“You got that right,” she agreed. She opened the refrigerator door and reached for a pitcher of the most refreshing beverage on earth, setting it on the counter. She took two large tumblers from the cupboard, added ice from the freezer bin, and filled the glasses with tea, setting one in front of me and the other across the table. She returned the pitcher to the fridge and sat down.
I looked at her. “Okay, now what’s so top secret?”
As before, Sandra hesitated, evidencing the same suggestion of a smile, but her gaze was steady. “It’s a spanking party.”
My eyes must have gotten as big as saucers. “I beg your pardon??!!”
“You heard right,” she reassured me. “I belong to a group of people who get together once a month for a spanking party. Some of them spank, some get spanked, and some do both. Some people, especially new ones, do neither.”
I realized my jaw was nearly on my chest. “Sandra Barnes, do you mean to tell me there are people out there who like to be spanked? I mean, people besides me?”
Now it was her turn to stare. As close as we were, as much as we knew about each other, she was as surprised as I was. “Are you saying you’re a spanko, too?”
“Spanko? I’ve never heard that word before.”
“It’s short for spankophile. It means someone who likes spanking, either giving or getting or both,” she explained. “So which are you, a Top or a Bottom?”
“Top or Bottom?” It sounded like English, but she was speaking a foreign language to me. “What does that mean?”
“A Top is a spanker. A Bottom is a spankee. A Switch does both.”
“I guess I’m a Bottom. I like to be whipped. Spanked, you call it. So ‘Switch’ doesn’t mean what weapon is used?”
“Oh, no. Many Tops spank with their hands. Some use paddles or belts or other toys.”
“Toys!!?? If somebody came at me with a paddle, ‘toy’ is not the first word I would think of.” I thought for a few moments. “Although I have had a belt and a riding crop used on me. It was kinda rough, but I wanted it. And I liked it.” By way of clarification, I added, “There were always bruises.”
“So you’ve done it more than once,” Sandra asked.
“Yes, a number of times. Maybe twenty times.”
“But ‘toy’ wasn’t the word that came to mind?”
“No. It was not a game. It was consensual, but not sensual.” For a brief moment I was lost in memories of a former time.
Sandra brought me back to the present. “Were you always the one that received the spankings, or did you sometimes give them.”
“I was always on the receiving end, so to speak.”
Sandra smiled an acknowledgement of the pun. “At our parties, our aim is to have fun. We do this because we enjoy it. Bottoms enjoy getting spanked, and Tops enjoy spanking them. If it gets unpleasant, the Bottom says so, and the Top changes tactics. Either that or the Top is asked to leave. Well actually, told to leave. It’s a rule.” She was quiet for a minute. “Wanna come to the party? I could make a phone call and see if it’s okay. I’m sure it will be. You don’t even have to play if you don’t want to.
“Play? Is that what you call it?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm,” she affirmed. ‘Play.’ That’s what you do with ‘toys.’ I bet you would enjoy it. No one will coerce you into doing anything you don’t want to do. You can just be an observer. I think you would be surprised how much fun you’ll have.”
“Where does this take place? I’m imagining a dungeon somewhere.”
Sandra laughed. “No, it’s not a dungeon. This group meets at the home of some members, a married couple. More like a mansion, really. This house has eight bedrooms, six bathrooms, two large living rooms, and the usual den, dining room, kitchen, etc. And a four-car garage and ten acres. And indoor and outdoor swimming pools, one of each.”
I was amazed. “Wow, Sandra. That sounds like quite a mansion, all right. “Yes, I’d like to go. If there is a fee involved, I’ll gladly fork it over.”
She answered, “There’s a fee for the party, and there’s a one-time fee for membership in the group.” She told me the amounts. “And they do require cash.”
“Not a problem,” I said. “I happen to have that much on me. What do I do? I’ll need to change clothes.” I got up to leave.
“I’ll get hold of one of the people in charge and get it all set up. You go shower and get something to eat if you want to. They’ll have munchies at the party. Either way, brush your teeth. Be back at 7 and we can ride together, or you can follow me. The party lasts till 2 in the morning, but I usually leave about 11. Oh, and just wear something vanilla.”
“You mean white?”
Sandra laughed again, this time at my lack of knowledge. “No, it just means ordinary. Not a costume or anything suggesting spanking.”
“Oh. Okay.” I’m sure I looked confused, but not as confused as I felt.
“Take your tea. You can bring the glass back later.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Dazed, I grabbed the glass and my tote bag and went out the door, heading for my place.
I walked the thirty-odd steps to my apartment, thoughts spinning around in my mind like it was a blender. Okay, Randy. What have you gotten yourself into this time? Well, she said I could just observe. She said I don’t have to participate. What did she call it? ‘Play?’ This is the strangest thing I’ve ever heard of. But an hour ago, my craving was the strangest thing I’d ever heard of. Yeah, an hour ago, and a year ago, and twenty years ago. This may just be what I’ve been looking for all this time.
I unlocked my apartment door and went in, relocking the door behind me. I parked my tote bag and purse in their usual places and headed for the bedroom, kicking off my shoes. A long, satisfying drink of tea went a long way toward slaking my thirst. I padded around in socks, shedding an article of clothing every few steps. These I gathered up and tossed into the dirty-clothes basket in the corner. I stopped in front of the closet, whose doors were always open unless company was coming, and gazed at my wardrobe. Vanilla. What’s vanilla? Ordinary. How about dark slacks and a casual top? Yeah, that would be fine. I reached for hangers containing navy pants and a blue and white flower-print shirt with a straight hem and hung them on a hook on the bathroom door. I went to my bureau and opened the underwear drawer. If I just observe, I’ll keep my clothes on. But if I change my mind, am I going to undress? Will I keep my panties on? Should I choose attractive undies? Will anyone care? Probably not. I took panties, a bra, and socks from the drawer and laid them on top of the bureau. Then I went into the bathroom, reached to turn on the shower, and stripped off my remaining garments. Having shampooed my hair that morning, I decided it wasn’t necessary to do it again, so I put on a shower cap. Checking that the water was warm, I stepped into the back of the tub and closed the sliding door. I quickly scrubbed all over, using the bath brush on my back. Turning under the shower head to rinse off the residual soap, I contemplated what the party would be like, noting that my body was already intrigued by the idea of a whipping. I turned off the water and slid the door open, pulling a towel from the towel bar on the outside of the door. I took the shower cap off and shook it, replaced it on its hook, and stepped out onto the bath mat. I dried off, hung the towel back on its bar, and went into the bedroom. After the warm shower, another swallow of tea cooled and refreshed me. I drained the glass, wiped the moisture off the outside of it, and stuck it in the top of my purse so I would remember to take it when I returned to Sandra’s.
I put on the undergarments and outfit I had selected. With black oxfords, I was dressed. I decided to forgo makeup except for my eyebrows, which were getting paler with the passing years. Brushing my teeth was the last item on my to-do list. With that accomplished, I studied my face in the mirror. Randy, have you absolutely lost your mind? Well, Sandra’s going. I’m not any crazier than she is. No, I guess you aren’t. But you gotta admit, this is the zaniest Friday night of your life. So what? What’s life without a little drama, especially high-spirited, fun drama? Satisfied with my preparation, I gathered my purse and the empty tumbler, turned off lights, and locked my apartment door behind me.
I walked to Sandra’s door and knocked. A lusty “Come in” sounded from within the apartment, so I knew that my friend was not far from the door, most likely in the kitchen. Letting myself in, I saw that she was dressed much like I was.
“Your outfit’s just fine,” she said. “See? You’re already learning vanilla.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “Here’s your glass.” I set it on the counter in the kitchen. “You make great tea. So everything is all set for me to go to the party?”
“Sure thing. What do you want to take to drink? I have bottled water, ginger ale, and diet cola. And, of course, tea.”
“Water would be good. Thanks.”
“You’re quite welcome. Getting spanked is thirsty work,” she joked. “Not that you necessarily will.” She reached into the fridge and brought out four bottles of water, placing them in a lunch-sized cooler. “Okay, looks like we’re all set.”
“All right,” I said, moving toward the door. “Can I carry anything?”
“Nope, I got it.”
I opened the door and went out. She followed, locking the door behind her. We descended the steps in the bright Texas sun, which at 7 p.m. was still hotter than West Hell.
When she got to the bottom of the steps, Sandra asked, “Do you want to ride with me or take your own car?”
“I’ll accept the gracious invitation to go with you,” I said, joining her on ground level. It’ll help me not to be so nervous. Besides, I don’t expect to get bored and want to leave.” I smiled, and she laughed. “So how far away is this place?”
“It’s only about 9 miles. You’ll be surprised where it is.”
We left the parking lot and headed toward downtown. After a few blocks, Sandra turned right, in the direction of a city park. She drove around it and continued on a four-lane street toward the outskirts of town. We passed the high school and then a shopping mall. A few miles later, we came to what was known as the “hospital district,” a rather pretentious moniker for the area surrounding the town’s only hospital. It was new, however, and two generous endowments had provided for creating and maintaining state-of-the-art equipment and leading-edge technology in several specialties. The facility had the potential to become a showcase for modern medicine, though on a small scale.
We drove past the emergency entrance, and Sandra observed that there were no ambulances and only one police car. I voice the hope that it would be a slow night for ER personnel. Beyond the hospital grounds, on both sides of the four-lane road, were recently constructed housing developments with interesting architecture and lawns that were well cared for. A mile or so later, Sandra turned right, into a drive flanked with beautifully maintained shrubbery and flowers in an array of colors. We approached a tall gate, and Sandra drove up to a call box to gain access to the property. I imagined we were about to enter a gated community containing expensive dwellings. Sandra pushed a button, and a male voice said, “Good evening.”
Sandra replied, “Hello, I’m Sandra. Elements.”
The voice answered her, “Hello, Sandra. Proceed.” The gate moved slowly to the right, allowing us to enter. Sandra drove through the gate and followed a road wide enough to be two-lane, on each side of which was an expanse of newly mown grass. As the road wound and curved toward a large structure some distance in front of us, I realized that this was not a gated community; it was a gated HOUSE. I was looking at the ten-acre grounds of the mansion. I thought of the lyrics to a Broadway song, “What a setup! Holy Cow! They’d never believe it if my friends could see me now.” As we got closer, it was evident that part of the lawn to the side of this dwelling had been designated as a parking area. Even without marked boundaries, drivers had parked their vehicles in surprisingly even rows, with enough space between each two cars to open the doors fully.
We reached the end of the grassy parking area, where Sandra pulled in beside a dark red sedan. “Well, I see Allen is already here. He’s the one I called to make sure it was okay.” She shifted the car to PARK and turned off the ignition. “I would suggest you leave your purse here. That way you won’t have to keep up with it. Besides, there’s probably not anything in it that you’ll need. Oh, wait: You will need your driver’s license and money. I’m just taking my car keys, and I keep ‘em in a pocket.
“Sounds good to me,” I replied.
“Good. We can put them in the trunk.” I opened my purse and got out my driver’s license and the cash I would need. Then we got out of the car, Sandra unlocked the trunk, and we put our purses in it. She closed the trunk and locked the car. We turned toward the front door of the house. “Are you nervous?” She asked.
“A little. Well, maybe more than a little.” I admitted.
Sandra chuckled. “So was I, the first time I came to one of these parties. It won’t be strange for long. In no time at all you’ll settle in.”
We reached the front porch and went up the steps. Sandra rang the bell. The door was opened by a tall, slim man with dark hair just turning silver at the temples. On his green golf shirt was a name tag that said “JOHN,” beneath which was a solid blue circle. “Hi, Sandra,” he boomed, hugging her as he pulled her inside. I followed, and he closed the door. He leaned down to kiss her cheek and then looked at me. “This must be the friend Allen called me about.”
“Yes, indeed,” Sandra replied. Turning to me, she said, “Randy, this is John, the master of the house.” She gestured toward me. “John, my friend and neighbor Randy.”
He took my hand in a gentle handshake. “So pleased to meet you, Randy. Sandra tells me you’re new to the lifestyle.”
“Yes,” I agreed, having no idea what he was talking about.
My neighbor rescued me. “What he means is the Spanko lifestyle. Yes, Randy’s new to the lifestyle, but not the fetish. She was into spanking some years ago but just didn’t know other people were. She’s never been to a spanking party before.”
“Well, you’re certainly welcome, Randy,” John said warmly. “We have a real friendly group. Let’s get you registered, and there’s some information we need to make note of. Come along.” He led Sandra and me to the kitchen, where a woman sat at a table with a notebook and pen, a sheet of self-adhesive name tags and a sheet of different-colored adhesive circles with some missing, and a locking money box. “Evelyn, we have a new member. Sandra brought along her neighbor. It’s been cleared with Allen.” The woman had printed “SAN” on one of the name tags and stopped to greet us.
“Yes, he told me. That’s great!” she said to John. To me, she held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Evelyn.”
“I’m Randy,” I answered, gripping her hand briefly.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Did you bring your driver’s license?” She continued printing “DRA on the name tag and attached a red circle under the name.
“Yes. I have it right here,” I said, digging into my pocket. I handed it to her and sat in a vacant chair.
Evelyn alternately looked at my driver’s license and the page of her notebook, writing down the information she needed. “Do you know about the fees?”
“Yes,” I said. “Sandra told me. Is this the right amount?” I asked, handing her the bills I had stashed in my pocket.
“Yep, right on the nose,” she confirmed. “Glad to have you here tonight. What’s your position?” she asked, reaching for another name tag.
Again ignorance silenced me, and again Sandra came to my rescue. “She’s a Bottom, but tonight she’s an Observer.”
After printing my name on the tag, Evelyn peeled a green, self-adhesive circle from a sheet and placed it carefully under my name. “There,” she said. “You’re officially an Observer. And Sandra, here’s yours.” After peeling the backing off them, she handed us the name tags, which we pasted to our shirts.
“Well, let’s get you introduced around,” John said to me. “Come this way.”
He led us into a large, high-ceilinged living room where several small groups of people sat on sofas and in armchairs, chatting on different subjects. He went up to each group and introduced me. I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh in an adjoining room. “Now I’ll introduce you to my wife,” John said, leading us in the direction of the sound. Only two people were in the room, a woman with her dress up over her back and her panties down around her knees, and a man across whose lap she was lying as he repeatedly spanked her with his hand. Her arms were folded under her head, her chin resting on the uppermost hand. “Hi, Honey,” she said cheerily, followed by “Ow, Keith,” as she looked back at the man.
“Aw, did that hurt?” said her punisher, rubbing her bottom gently.
“Hi, Joyce,” John greeted his wife, planting a kiss on her hair. “I want to introduce our new member, Sandra’s friend Randy. Randy, this is my wife, Joyce.”
“Hi, Randy. Forgive me for not getting up,” she apologized, “but I’m a little indisposed at the moment.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” I said, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Then John instructed, “Now, Keith, you know Joyce only likes to be spanked when she deserves it and when she doesn’t. And she only likes it hard or harder. Keep that in mind, will you?”
“Sure ’nough, John,” Keith agreed, smacking Joyce more forcefully, which made her bury her face in the bedspread.
“Jnmm?” she said, the sound muffled by bedclothes.
“Yes, dear?” her husband answered.
She lifted her head toward him and observed, “You’re not helping.”
“Okay, Hon. I’ll just run along and do some more introductions.” He patted her shoulder gently in parting.
As we moved toward the door, John explained, “Don’t worry, Randy. She loves it. Joyce and I have been married for 34 years, and we’ve known Keith for 20. He knows she likes it hard, but he won’t overdo it. She’s in good hands. Or undergood hands, you might say.” I chuckled.
We followed John out into the living room. Ever the tour guide, he suggested, “Let’s go upstairs and see what kind of action there is. It’s usually a lot.” As the three of us trooped up the grand staircase, I thought how bizarre the scene was that I had just witnessed. A guy was spanking another guy’s wife, and she and both guys were as happy as larks.
We got to the top of the stairs and heard a variety of sounds of hitting going on. In the first room on the left, there was a queen-sized bed. Three of its sides contained women who were being spanked, two by men and one by a woman. The two Bottoms being spanked by men were prone on the bed while their Tops were standing up and using leather implements of differing types on their bare buttocks. On the far side of the bed, the woman Top had her victim across her lap, spanking her with a rather small, brown-and-tan-striped wooden paddle that brought repeated flinches and protests.
“Ouch, Vivian. That hurts,” she wailed.
“Of course it hurts, Kim. It’s a spanking. It’s punishment. It’s supposed to hurt. How many is that?”
“Twelve,” Kim answered. She sniffled.
“And how many are left?”
“Thirteen.”
“Very good,” Vivian acknowledged. “Hold still.” She swung the paddle again, causing Kim to flinch. And again.
I looked at one of the other women. The man spanking her was using a doubled-over strap that made a loud slapping sound. The woman’s panties were pulled up so that both cheeks were exposed and fabric was between them. She was lying still and looked quite serene. “Hi, John,” she greeted our guide. “Have you played yet?”
“Hi, Lani. No, not yet. Right now I’m showing our new member around. Randy, this is Lani. Lani, Randy is a neighbor of Sandra’s. They’ve lived three doors down from each other and been pals for five years, and today they learned something new about each other.”
Lani smiled at me. “Hi, Randy. I hope you have a good time. This is a great bunch of people. I see you’re an Observer tonight. That’s fine. No one will make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s certainly different. I’m not used to any of this.”
“That’s okay. All of us attended our first party once upo—OW, Curtis! Is that what you were trying to get me to say? All right, you got your wish.” To me, she resumed, “As I was saying before I was so painfully interrupted, we were all new and going to our first party once upon a time. Soon, you’ll be an ‘old hand.’ ”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” I answered. Seeing that John had turned and was moving toward the door, I said, “See you later.”
John said, “The woman doing the spanking in there is Vivian. She’s a Top, and she’s Kim’s Domme. I imagine Kim got herself into trouble, although being her Domme, Vivian can spank her anytime she wants to, for whatever reason.”
We moved down the hall, peeking into different rooms as we went. We passed one room where a man wearing a T-shirt stood beside the bed, bent over with his hands flat on the bedspread. I saw that his pants and undershorts were down around his ankles. A woman was using a switch of some kind on his bare bottom with much force and just as much accuracy. Several parallel lines marked the skin, and she was in the process of adding another one below them. “Eight,” he counted.
I asked John, “Another Domme?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “Laura is a Top, but I think she’s just giving Eric what he likes. He likes it when his Top makes him count. They’re both regulars at our parties, but I don’t think they have a Domme/sub relationship.”
“What was she hitting him with?” I wanted to know.
“A cane,” John said. “It looked like a Delrin cane.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Canes were originally rattan. Delrin is a synthetic material that resembles rattan in weight and size, but it’s virtually unbreakable. It’s very bendable, though.”
John then suggested that we go back downstairs to socialize some more. At the head of the staircase, I noticed a table with snacks on it, including cheese and crackers, a fruit plate, and cookies. John grabbed a few grapes, Sandra and I each took a cookie, and we started down the stairs. When we got to the first floor, I saw another table with similar snacks on it that hadn’t been there earlier. I snagged another cookie.
John turned to me. “Well, what do you think so far, Randy?”
“It’s all so strange,” I said. “I had no idea this kind of thing existed. It just never occurred to me.”
Sandra, who had been quiet all during our brief tour, voiced her agreement. “I never knew it existed, either, until I got into the same kind of conversation you and I had today. It’s opened up a whole new world for me.”
John said, “That’s true for all of us. Our group can be found online, but you have to know where and how to look. If you just google ‘Elements,’ you’ll pull up the periodic table! You can’t find us by accident. You have to be looking.”
“Speaking of which,” Sandra said, “I’m going to hunt up Keith. We have a ‘play date’ scheduled. I’ll see if he’s finished with Joyce.” She moved toward the first room we had visited.
“Randy, why don’t you wander around and mingle?” John suggested to me. “You can ask questions and get to know some of the people. And remember, if you decide you want to be more than an Observer, and your bottom needs a Top, there are several available, including me.”
“Thank you, John. I know you’re making such a gracious offer out of the goodness of your hand—I mean heart,” I replied, grinning.
“Ah, now I see you’re getting into the ‘swing’ of things,” he retorted. “See you later.” He followed in the same direction Sandra had gone, just as Joyce was coming out of the room. She reached up to hug her husband as he put his arms around her. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” she answered. “After I get a drink and rest for a while, will you do me next?
“My dear, I would do you anytime, anywhere, and love every minute of it,” John lovingly assured his wife.
As they started walking into the kitchen, I went to the room where Sandra had gone. She was on the near side of the bed, her slacks and panties down to her knees, lying across Keith’s lap. He was just about to begin spanking her.
I decided to go back upstairs. I paused at the foot of the stairs for a cracker and cheese and then continued up to the second floor. In the room we had visited earlier, Lani was hugging Curtis, her Top, and thanking him. The other man and the woman he had been spanking were gone. Vivian and Kim were sitting on the far side of the bed, where Kim had lain earlier. She was crying, and Vivian held her, smoothing her hair and softly talking to her. I left the room and moved down the hallway, exploring. The man who was being caned earlier was now lying prone on the bed, being whipped with a belt. I heard him say “nineteen” as I walked past. The next room I came to was vacant, but the light was on. Proceeding down the hallway, I came to a room occupied by six women. Three were Tops, and the other three were Bottoms. The Bottoms were on the near side, the foot of the bed, and the far side, and the Tops stood over them, each holding a leather strap. One of the Tops was instructing the women about the spankings they were going to receive. It looked like some sort of ritual, because the three Tops were dressed alike and the three Bottoms were naked. I was both frightened and mesmerized.
I went back downstairs to the room I had just left, where Keith was spanking Sandra with his hand. Her chin rested on her hands. She was absolutely still, though it seemed he was hitting her pretty hard. I asked if I could come in, and Keith said, “Sure. You can watch all you want. You want to come over here so you and Sandra can talk?” He indicated an open space on the bed close to her head.
I moved over there and asked Sandra how she was doing.
“Fine,” she said. “It feels wonderful. This is an excellent way to release the tension of the work week. Have you come across anything interesting yet?”
“Oh, it’s all interesting,” I answered. “So interesting, in fact, that I’m getting very jealous. I’m going to have to become an un-Observer. I want a whipping so bad I can almost feel it, and the ‘almost’ is driving me crazy.”
“I know that feeling well,” Sandra sympathized. A light bulb seemed to go on in her eyes. “I know what you ought to do. Go upstairs and find Allen. He was supposed to have taken three gals upstairs right before we got here. Maybe he can work you in. You’ll like his style. He starts slow and easy, which would be great for you since you haven’t played in a while. Then he gets harder and a little faster, but the way he does it it’s easy to take, even if you’re not used to it. We always recommend him to new Bottoms.”
“On your expert referral, I’ll do just that. Thanks, Sandra.” I turned and left the room, heading for the stairs. I snagged a few grapes and marched purposefully up the staircase. I knew that this Allen person wasn’t in any of the rooms I had looked in earlier, so I went beyond those doors to the next one on the left. I could see two women sitting on the bed, and I could hear spanking happening. Stepping into the room, I saw that the man had the other woman—the third one—across his lap, spanking her somewhat forcefully. Her slacks and panties were down around her knees, and he was spanking her bare buttocks. She squirmed a little with each blow but didn’t make a sound. He looked up to see who had just walked in, and he froze in mid-spank.
I froze in mid-thought. Allen. Allen Saunders, M.D. My gynecologist! I blurted out, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Randy. Sandra suggested that I see you for a spanking because I’m new. Allen, right?” I had never in sixteen years of being his patient called him anything but Dr. Saunders.
He beamed. “Yes, that’s right. I’m pleased to meet you, Randy. And I’m pleased that Sandra would refer you to me.” ‘Refer.’ Doctor talk. ‘Refer me to him.’
I could see that he was going along with it, so I would do the same. “So I can just make myself comfortable and wait?”
“Sure, sure,” he said. “Hop up here and wait till Jenny and I are done here.” He patted the bed behind where he was sitting. I went around and climbed up beside the other two women.
One of those said, “We’ve already played. We’re just waiting for Jenny. Sort of the Three Musketeers.” I nodded understanding.
After four or five minutes, he stopped spanking Jenny and asked, “Well, how was that?”
“Very nice,” she replied. “I feel great.”
He helped her climb off his lap and stand up. He reached for her panties and pulled them up to the proper level as she adjusted her legs to assist. Then he caught the waistband of her pants, first with one hand and then the other, and began pulling them up, while she again wiggled to accommodate his movements. He stood up, and they hugged affectionately. She thanked him for spanking her and he told her how much he enjoyed doing it. She went around the bed and sat close to me.
Dr. Saunders—Allen—said, “I’ll take a short break to rest and get some fluids in me, and then you and I can start, Randy.” ‘Fluids.’ More doctor talk. He went into the bathroom and turned on the water at the sink. “He was washing his hands between patients!” Oh, for the love o’ Mike.”
He reached for a hand towel and stood in the doorway of the bathroom looking at the other women and me, drying his hands like some TV surgeon in the OR. He replaced the towel on a rack and came back into the room. “Okay. You ready?” he asked me.
I felt extremely awkward. “Hold on, now. Wait just a doggone minute. I happen to know you’re a married man. I don’t have any intention of pursuing this activity with a married man. That kind of scandal holds no attraction for me.”
He frowned. “I see what you mean. It could be a really messy situation,” he acknowledged. “That is, if my wife weren’t sitting right here.” He indicated Jenny.
She extended her hand. “Jenny Saunders, RNP. Pleased to meet you.”
I looked from him to her, and then back at him, and back at her, sticking out my hand like a zombie. My chin was on my chest for the second time that day, as Jenny briefly gripped my hand, grinning like a possum.
Matter-of-factly, Allen asked, “So do you want me to spank you or not?”
“I guess so,” I stammered.
“Well then, I think it would be nice to invoke an age-old tradition I just made up. I think you and I should go from room to room, upstairs and downstairs, and invite everyone to gather in the downstairs living room to witness your first spanking here among the ‘Elements.’ ”
“Everyone?” I squeaked.
“Well, sure. Why not?”
My mind raced. “What makes you think you can get away with that?”
“Get away with it?” Allen asked. “Who are you going to tell? My wife is right here.”
“What about the hospital? Surely you don’t think they would condone this behavior on the part of one of their prominent doctors.”
“Oh, I doubt I’ll get into too much trouble. John is the CEO of the hospital, what used to be known as the hospital administrator. Now, let me make it clear: You will not be forced to take a spanking from anyone, Randy, but if you want to be spanked by me, those are the terms.”
My last argument had disintegrated. It was tempting to say I didn’t want to be spanked at all, or to ask that someone else do it, but by now the seed had been planted in every fertile mind in the house. I wanted it, and this was the only way I was going to get it tonight. “Okay.”
“Okay what?” he tortured.
“Okay, A—.” The name didn’t want to leave my throat. “Okay, Allen. Will you please spank me?”
“Atta girl.” Then he whispered, “Such a good patient.” In a normal voice he instructed, “Come along, and we’ll rally the troops.”
Dr. Saunders and I went from one upstairs room to another, informing all occupants of the spanking that was going to take place downstairs. I was eager, but at the same time I felt trapped. When we had covered the second floor, we went downstairs and made the rounds there.
When everyone had been apprised of the latest goings-on, Dr. Saunders led me to a sofa that was the center item of the grouped furniture. As if suddenly remembering the detail, he said, “Oh, there was just one more term I forgot.”
Resigned to my fate, I asked, “What’s that?”
He paused to get the full benefit of the word. “Strip.”
I figured it didn’t make any difference now. “Might as well. You’ve seen me like that before.” I began unbuttoning my shirt.
As he sat down, a chorus started chanting as if it were a TV show, ‘Ran-Dy, Ran-Dy, Ran-Dy.’ My shirt was off. Down came the pants. The chanting was getting a little irksome.
I put my hands on my hips and asked, just loud enough to be heard, “Why’re alla y’all lookin’ at me like I’m fresh meat?” They burst into laughter as I removed my shoes, bra and then panties. I lay across Dr. Saunders’ lap. To him, I said, “This is the strangest day of my life.”
After the Party 2
Readers,
One of my eagle-eyed, news-reading playmates sent me a link to this article, posted on Salon.com 9/9/2013. For most of us, it will read like a roadmap to ‘becoming a spanko’, but to those not familiar with the fetish, it’s a fresh and un-scary introduction into the inner workings of the Modern Spanko.
The author, Jason Webb (a penname), based in Austin, TX, takes his readers through the twists and turns of first interest to full-blown lifestyle – and takes vanillas on an informational, rational trip down fetish lane.
Read the full article below, and feel free to come back here to comment, if you’d like.
Dana
Readers,
I first met Cali and Mr. H over three years ago, out in the middle of nowhere desert, to film for a new spanking video production company called The Spanking Court. They were filming at what was, at the time, the coolest spanking location I’d ever seen: several dedicated sets, including judge’s bench, plaintiff/defendant podiums, and even a ‘jail cell’! Not only were the sets great, but the owners, Cali and Mr. H, were just about some of the most friendly and welcoming folks with whom I’d ever worked.
After the first few Spanking Court shoots, they asked if I’d like to become a permanent part of the production – and invited my honey to do the same. We ended up becoming the Court Disciplinarian and Bailiff for the entire run of Spanking Court, doling out spankings to dozens of ladies (and a few men) who ran afoul of Judge Spanks.
Eventually, we moved to the Hollywood Production Studios in Los Angeles, before finally ending up in an enormous custom-built, multi-set space in Northern California – trust me, you’ve never seen anything like the creativity and time that went into this place…amazing. One thing that always stayed the same was the level of work put into this endeavor by our friends and their genuine kindness to anyone with whom they worked.
We had the great good fortune of working with some of the nicest, most professional, and FUN people during our shoots, including the unforgettable Erica Scott, Christy Cutie, Ten Amorette, Cheyenne Jewel, Casey Calvert, and our very own VBB and WW, to name just a few.
Eventually, Cali and Mr. H also created Sternwood Academy – an all-girl’s academy which focused on education, manners, and lots and LOTS of spankings. Again, there were many beautiful and talented participants, top and bottom, and they ended up producing three full-length DVD releases of Sternwood Academy.
A couple months ago, we received a call from our wonderful friends informing us that their vanilla business had taken off like a rocket – great news for them, sad news for the spanking video world – and that there just wasn’t enough time in their current schedule to continue producing spanking content. While we were naturally thrilled for them and their success, we are more than a little sad to see SC and Sternwood come to an end, and will miss the amazing times we had with everyone involved.
Sincerest thanks and enormous love to Cali and Mr. H, and to all the fabulous folks who participated and watched…we had a blast!
– Dana
ACROSS
3 NOT a guy from Delaware.
7 Dual use implement.
9 Hit this.
12 Bad girls and boys get this.
13 Lovable scamp
14 A vacation for your brain.
15 What you’re likely in.
16 The best color.
DOWN
1 What you should be over.
2 An absolute necessity.
4 Not nice.
5 Almost everyone wants them.
6 Let it fit the crime.
8 No peeking!
10 What brats don’t want to do.
11 THE word
Training the New Librarian
Readers,
Here are some preliminary numbers on the recent ‘Switch Hitters’ survey.
With 76 current respondents :
(*Click the graphics below to make them viewable full-size.)
Readers,
One of my adventurous playmates, who’s had his fair share of spanking experience over the years, was kind enough to gift me some of his prized spanking materials collection – several pristine magazines which I hadn’t previously seen. These are classic spanko periodicals, and I am tickled by his generous gesture. So tickled, in fact, that I had to share a couple snapshots here:
He said he’d brought me ‘a couple things’, so I was surprised when he pulled out this stack of awesome spanko history –
with titles like Strictly Woman to Woman Spanking, Over Her Knee!,
I Remember When, and Firm Forceful Femmes:
This one stuck out immediately, as it features my spanking shero,
Dana Specht:
These magazines are, well….cool….and are full of reminders of our recent spanko past – video previews for the stunning Rebecca Brooks, photos of famous tops such as Christine Justice and Simone Devon, and chock full of dozens of spanking personal ads (WAY before the internet made it easy to hook up with spankos everywhere, anywhere).
Naturally, we started talking about the pre-internet era – ordering VHS tapes through the mail with money orders (those early spanking tapes were $90 apiece!), scanning printed personals for like minds, and the excitement of seeing a Spanking Story in the Playboy magazine or Penthouse Forum.
As I wasn’t even aware of the larger spanko community back then, listening to his stories was a real eye-opener, and I’m curious how many other spanking fetishists have similar tales of cashing the weekly paycheck ASAP, in order to rush out and mail that money order for Nu-West’s latest VHS release…
Were those the Good Old Days, or is this – internet, social media, short-attention-span – the Golden Era?
– Dana
Readers,
We’ve talked before about non-corporal punishment/discipline, so I thought I’d share this photo with you:
Here’s Angel, surrounded by the FIRST batch of my spanking implements which she was instructed to clean and organize as part of her ongoing discipline. As you can see, the wood implements are piled in front, with leathers to her right and non-traditionals to her left. This does not include the many dozen more canes, delrin implements, large paddles and other sundry items contained in the closet behind her.
I should mention that ALL of these implements were already clean, as they always are, because I clean them myself after each use. This was a lesson in time-wasting – having to do a task which is completely unnecessary – and how it can be avoided by making the right choices *before* you find yourself in trouble.
I’m pleased to say that not only did Angel survive her cleaning assignment, but my implement closet is now in quite the state of order….although I can’t be certain that she hasn’t hidden at least one.
– Dana
Before the Party II
Readers,
A recent Conversation about Fantasy vs. Reality spawned another line of thought – and an excellent one, at that.
What happens if, as a spanko, you’re lucky enough to :
a) be in a relationship
b)have a partner who’s open to spanking, if not an all-out spanko, and
c)have the opportunity to be spanked relatively regularly by said partner
but…
They suck at it?
We’ve all had less-than-perfect spankings, where the spanker chose an intensity, rhythm, or implement which wasn’t necessarily tops on our list; I’m not talking about the occasional imperfect scene.
I mean, what does one do when, no matter how many times they try, the spanker just can’t manage to pull a good spanking out of their hat to save his or her life?
It sounds like I’m being glib about this, and maybe a little levity is a Good Thing, because this seems like a Big Problem to me. When practice *doesn’t* make perfect – what do you say?
Back in the days when my ego would still tolerate a spanking, I threw out a couple “Umm, what exactly are you doing back there” ‘s, and maybe a few “Yeah, this isn’t going to work” ‘s, to boot. A hard spanking was tolerable, but a bad one wasn’t. Ever. (It’s fair to mention that these were not relationship-partner spankings, so I wasn’t terribly emotionally attached to the spanker’s response.)
But what about when the spankee IS emotionally attached to the spanker’s response? What if the spankee, as my aforementioned playmates (who definitely do not have an issue in the how-well-she-spanks dept.), is the only spanko in the equation, and doesn’t want to ‘look a gift spanking in the paddle’, so to speak?
I’m interested in hearing about how other spankos have handled this delicate situation, and I’m sure that your fellow readers are, too…
– Dana
Readers,
Welcome to the new Spanking Story Contest. This month, our Person, Place, and Thing theme will take us to a fictional spanking party, with lots of happy spanko revelers, where YOU are the star of the party…at least for one spanking :
Write a story about a spanking that YOU either give, or receive, at this hopping spanking party. Are you an adventurous top, an exhibitionist switch, or a first-time party bottom? Are there three people watching…or 100? Use your imagination, and write your story about :
YOU
At your most fabulous fantasy spanking party:
…either spanking or being spanked in front of an audience.
Read Before Writing :
The winner will receive a spanking session with me, in my hometown or any of the cities which I regularly visit.
If you’ve any questions, feel free to email me. All completed entries should also be emailed, either as part of the email’s text or as an attachment, to:
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
Have fun, and good luck!
– Dana
Messy Girl
Readers,
A couple weeks ago I asked forum participants about their experiences, or lack thereof, with Diaper position spankings.
It seems to be a very humbling position (echoed by bottoms who responded), but also very effective in the making-the-sit-spot-a-raging-hellfire department, too.
Along with these two obvious benefits, there’s the added bonus that spanker and spankee may make easy eye contact – and it’s one of the few positions, barring the use of a mirror, in which the spankee can see the whacks coming.
To that end, I recently filmed a great scene with one of my playmates (Mr. Sexual Harassment Bartender) where I employed the Diaper position to great effect, and was SO looking forward to sharing it.
Then I happened. Again. Yes, me. I ‘happen’ to the audio/visual equipment from time to time and, even with my best efforts, managed to do it again with said Diaper position scene. No audio. Dammit.
Naturally, I am crushed. But fear not! – I have pulled out a few still shots from the Diaper position portion of the video to highlight our current topic, and it’s just a shame that you can’t hear him reciting the number of whacks. In Spanish. For practice. Priceless, really, but I digress…
Well, they’ve gone and done it now.
Caneiac’s made a new implement – conveyor belt material encased in rubber – called The Curse of Dana. And yes, it’s pretty darned evil.
The compliant boy featured in this video is a very heavy bottom, and most will find this implement particularly hard to handle. I, however, didn’t feel a thing.
POV: New Babysitter
For more preview photos, scene descriptions, and download links, click the Title links above, or visit:
HEREm
Readers,
Looking back on the totality of this blog, I’ve become even more aware of the talent shown in many of the spanking stories you have submitted. Rereading many of them, I’m again amazed at the sheer volume and quality of original spanking fiction that’s passed through the blog, from a lot of really dedicated writers.
So I’m tossing around an idea for a large compilation – an ebook – of great spanking stories.
The book would be a mix of reader-submitted stories and requested new writings from some of my favorite spanking authors.
What do you think, readers? Can the world handle another spanking ebook? I’d love your opinions on content, viability, and design. Especially if you’re a fan of spanking fiction – what draws you to the genre? And what story aspects do you consider integral?
Also, which stories already posted here are your favorites, and why?
– Dana
Readers,
Anastasia Vinsky publishes a blog called governing ana, at governingana.wordpress.com.
While Ana’s blog writings are now offline – as she’s been offered a book deal for her work – she is now hosting other writers of published F/M spanking fiction on her blogsite on select Mondays.
The feature is called ‘Fika’ (see Ana’s blog for the definition – it’s fun!), and the first installment is called ‘Celeste Jones on eBooks for Newbies’.
If you’re interested in being featured on Anastasia’s Fika Monday’s, send an introductory email to Ana, at:
ana_stasia2007@yahoo.com
Readers,
While I should likely be hard at work on some more interesting blog post, video editing project, or email back-up, my mind is still on east coast time and there’s not much brilliance sparking upstairs this very early Las Vegas morning.
So.
Since it’s nearly my birthday, I think I’ll allow myself a few minutes of mindless self-involvement – although it should be noted that I have been asked about my height and musical preferences more often than not.
So here’s one of those “Things you don’t know about me” things…
1. I am 5’8″ tall. (This comes as a surprise to many of my playmates upon our first meeting, and I’m not sure why. Do I look short?)
2. I wear a size 8 shoe.
3. Jeans and sneakers are my preferred everyday wardrobe.
4. While most of them are usually covered, I have a LOT of tattoos – and I love every single one of them.
5. I am the crazy cat lady.
6. Good books make me very happy. I’ve avoided the Kindle craze thus far, as printed pages are a large part of the joy of reading for me.
7. I’m from Texas. Ya’ll.
8. I usually cut my own hair. That’s why it looks the way it does. Ha!
9. Believe it or not, I absolutely HATE to fly.
10. I don’t wake up well.
11. Talking on the telephone is not on my list of favorite things to do.
12. I love to sing, although I am decidedly not good at it. Most all music has the capacity to charm me.
13. I also love to dance. (See above)
14. Shopping malls make me claustrophobic.
15. Most embarrassingly, I buy People magazine nearly every week.
Now, back to spanking…
– Dana
Now, go off and write a great, original spanking story, including all the details above – and use your imagination!
As is custom, the winning author will receive a spanking session with me – his or her ‘prize’.
The winner will be announced at the end of the month, and all qualifying story entries posted throughout the month of November for your reading pleasure.
And remember, Good Boys and Girls follow The Rules:
* NO references to characters under 18 years of age.
*NO overtly sexual situations or foul language.
Spanking scenes may be of any genre – F/M, F/F, M/F, M/M, etc.
Feel free to include as many or as few additional characters as you like, so long as the primary characters and characteristics are there.
By entering the contest, you agree to allow me to share, edit/excerpt your story, here and in other publishing platforms.
Send your entry to DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com.
Good writing, and Good luck!
– Dana
“They are passing, posthaste, posthaste, the gliding years – to use a soul-rending Horatian inflection. The years are passing, my dear, and presently nobody will know what you and I know.” – Vladimir Nabokov
October is my birthday month, and this year I am turning forty.
Surprisingly, I do not find this even remotely intimidating (although forty-one may bring on a whole other group of emotions), and am looking forward to the myriad interesting things which the world and my body have in store for me in this second half of life.
This year, like every other, I am grateful for my (ever-so-small but fierce) family, and for my iron ring of loving and thoroughly-loved friends. I am also grateful every day for the wonderful playmates I’ve made through the years, and for all the cool and intelligent people with whom I have had the pleasure of communicating online and through this blog. You all enrich my life in ways that I cannot properly express.
Thus far, this blog contains somewhere around 390 posts, over 100 original, reader-submitted spanking stories, nearly a dozen writing and photo contests, and many thousand of my own spanking-centered, rambling words.
I hope that each of you, kind enough to spend a little time participating in this blog, is aware of my genuine affection for you, and my gratitude. Thank you all.
– Dana
If you are interested in celebrating the impending birthday of a quite-possibly-virtual stranger, I humbly suggest the following two options, in order of importance:
Donate to Foreclosed Upon Pets, a Las Vegas animal rescue organization committed to saving the thousands of pets that are being abandoned in Las Vegas when homeowners lose their mortgages. These people are doing absolutely amazing work. (Or donate to your local animal charity instead.)
Or, peruse my Amazon wish list.
Readers,
As severe as The Very Bad Boy’s delrin punishment may have been, within just a couple hours he was asking for more. And just when you might be thinking that I am too severe…his Wonderful Wife takes over and administers quite a hard spanking on his somewhat unmarked right cheek (since the left was out of commission) with wooden implements and even more delrin! Then she invites me back in to help her finish off the VBB’s bottom – again.
Of course, with this level of silliness on his part, we had to film it. And we had to share it with you. Believe it or not…he ASKED for this.
We all had a whole lot of fun, in spite of the somewhat serious infractions on his part, and we all hope you enjoy watching the videos.
– Dana
Since the ‘Pic Your Bum’ contest generated several fun photo entries, and many, many votes – let’s have another, shall we?
The winner of the ‘Marital Discipline’ photo contest will receive a Dana Kane Marital Discipline DVD, via US Mail.
* Your photo MUST BE post-spanking. While severe marks are not required (or recommended), some noticeable level of pinkness, at the least, must be visible.
* Self-spanking is allowed, if you are not one of the fortunate few who has a regular spanking playmate.
* Entrants may be of any gender.
*As in the previous ‘Pic Your Bum’ contest, all photo entries must contain a written statement – in this case, ‘Marital Discipline’ or some variation, so that it’s obvious that your entry photo was taken specifically for this contest.
* Be creative! The voting will be done by other blog readers, so use your imagination.
* The contest will last two weeks, after which I will post up the qualifying entries (anonymously, of course). Then readers will be given one week to vote on their favorite photo entry.
Have fun!
– Dana
POV: Come to Bed, Honey
Here is another fun entry for the ‘Fantasy Island’ Person, Place, and Thing spanking story contest – enjoy!
After Douglas’ death my sexual desires were becoming an obsession. I loved my husband but he was gone and I had desires that needed to fulfill. One of Douglas’ employees was a 26 year old man who I would have fallen for when I was 26 years old. Jonathan was a classical bad boy. He was 5’5″ tall and not very athletic. He was more pretty than handsome. He had risen to a position of power in one of Douglas’ companies and commanded a very high salary.
Alexis is a lawyer who specializes in sexual harassment cases and she was representing on a contingency basis some of my employees. These employees complained about Jonathan’s unwanted sexual advances and his crude remarks. She arranged a meeting with me and presented her case. There was no doubt that our corporation could be liable for his behavior and that litigating the case would be futile so we agreed to a settlement.
Alexis is a 29 year old blond bombshell. She was over 6′ tall and had the firm body of an athlete. She was involved in a relationship with her 25 year old roommate Megan. Alexis didn’t like men and felt that most were pigs who would benefit from the firm hand of a woman. When I assured h. er that Jonathan would be terminated Alexis had a better idea. Jonathan would be given the choice of being terminated or going over my knee for a sound no nonsense spanking followed by a severe caning from her.
I confided to Alexis that I was never spanked and have never spanked; but, I had seen my mother spank my younger brother who was 10 years younger than me and that I always went out of my way to witness his spankings and found them exciting. Alexis told me that she was an expert spanker and that she had promised her young roommate a well deserved spanking when she returned home. Alexis insisted that I accompany her home to witness the paddling.
When we arrived at Alexis’ home her roommate, Megan, greeted us at the door. She was dressed in tight jeans and a loose t-shirt which showed off her lovely figure. Megan was 5’4″ tall with dark brown hair down to her shoulders and dark brown eyes. She looked more like a college coed than a 25 year old. Alexis ordered Megan to put the straight back chair in the middle of the room and to bring the paddle. Alexis took off her suit jacket leaving her dressed in a pencil skirt with a white silk blouse, black stockings, and 6″ heels. She sit in the chair and smoothed her skirt which had risen to expose the tops of her black nylon stockings being stretched by her garters.
When Megan returned she was in tears carrying a wicked looking oval paddle about 1/4″ thick with holes drilled in the business end. As she handed the paddle to Alexis she begged not to be spanked too hard or long and promised to never again use Alexis’ charge card without permission. Alexis told her that she was going to give her a good no nonsense spanking and that when she was finished that Megan would be a well spanked unhappy little girl and that she deserved the spanking she was going to get.
Megan was ordered to Alexis’ right side and Alexis unbuckled and lowered Megan’s jeans exposing Megan’s white nylon panties. As she placed her over her stocking clad knees Alexis adjusted her to her liking so that her bottom was directly across her lap. Alexis proceeded to paddle the kicking girl over her panties as her t-shirt draped over her head and her jeans were kicked off her legs. Alexis paused to remove the t-shirt and then resumed the paddling. Megan’s screaming started in earnest as Alexis lowered her panties down to her knees and told her, “I haven’t ever really started yet”. Another series of spanks landed now alternating cheeks hard and fast. Megan was gasping, squirming, and tears were running down her face as her spanking continued. She was pleading for mercy. Her bottom was bright red and her sobbing was harder, her makeup was streaked and her shoulder length hair was in disarray as she squirmed kicked and howled. When Megan was finally left off of Alexis’ lap she danced and skipped around the room holding her well spanked bottom while wearing only her bra with her panties around her knees.
I was excited at the sight of Megan’s paddling when to my surprise Alexis told me that if I was to give Jonathan a good paddling that I would need to know exactly what a good spanking felt like. I’m 47 years old and this 29 year old beauty was proposing to put me across her lap and paddle me like a 10 year old. I knew that the paddling would be painful but the excitement of going over Alexis’ lap was alluring as I obediently draped myself over her knees and she raised my skirt exposing my stocking tops and lovely tush outlined by my garter belt. I took my spanking no better than Megan but this convinced me that Jonathan needed to learn the same lesson over my knee.
Our plan was to propose to Jonathan that we would go on a business retreat to my island off of the coast of Tahiti and that our attire would be from different decades of the past. When we arrived at my island home Alexis was dressed in a stunning skin tight black dress with a pencil skirt, black nylon stockings, and 6″ heels. I had a green satin gown out of the 30’s skin tight and below my knees with black stockings and heels. Jonathan was dressed in a double breasted pin striped suit out of the 40’s.
When we arrived at the island Alexis did all of the talking and explained to Jonathan his options in her best legal language. He would be paddled by me and be given a severe caning from her with a bamboo walking stick or be terminated. He agreed to be disciplined and signed a waver that she had prepared.
I went first and remembered how painful Alexis’ paddling had been and was determined that Jonathan’s experience across my satin clad lap would be just as painful. He was stripped naked and draped across my green satin clad lap. I told him that naughty boys sometimes need a firm female hand to keep them in line and that the little boy inside you needs a good spanking. I am much stronger than Jonathan and had no trouble turning him over my lap for a good spanking. I spaced about one second between spanks and could hear his squeals and promises to be good, kicking and sobbing, after the first couple of spanks. I felt a strange pleasure and release as I used Alexis’ paddle on his naked bottom. He squirmed over my knee as I watched the red outline of her paddle with the holes in it appear on his bottom. His bottom turned pink and then red and he was kicking like a 10 year old. When I finally left him off of my silken lap he hopped around the room holding his bottom and continuing to cry just as Megan had done. It was the first spanking I had ever given; but, he was as well spanked as Megan had been.
Before he gained his composure Alexis secured his wrists and ankles in leather cuffs and placed a pillow over the back of the straight backed chair that I set on while spanking him. He was then forced over the pillow and his wrist cuffs were fastened to the front legs of the chair and his ankles to the back legs. He was helpless yet comfortable. Alexis and I enjoyed a glass of wine while he gained his composure. Alexis explained to him that she paddled her roommate as hard as he was just paddled for much less serious offensives and that he was now going to be caned the same way lawbreakers are in Singapore. Alexis in her pencil black dress, black stockings, and 6″ heels was stunning as she switched the bamboo cane through the air. He was to receive 6 strokes and after each stroke Alexis waited over a minute for him to calm down before the next stroke was delivered. It took almost 20 minutes to complete his caning. Alexis proved a master. Not one stripe on his bottom crisscrossed another. There was a perfect stair step of stripes covering his bottom. Alexis rubbed ointment on his welts and left him over the chair while we enjoyed another glass of wine.
During the remainder of our week on the island Alexis and I dressed in gorgeous sexual costumes from decades past. Corsets from the turn of the century under our long skirts and dresses, pointed bras under our tight sweaters from the 50’s, and short flapper dresses from the 20’s while Jonathan was allowed no clothing until we were ready to leave. Alexis and I rubbed ointments on his bottom daily and warned him that if there were any more problems at work that he would be brought back here for a severe horsewhipping that he wouldn’t forget.
To my surprise when we returned to the states Jonathan asked me out and we have been dating. I’m not sure if he realizes that since my experiences with Alexis, Megan, and him that the idea of spanking him is exciting and after all I am old enough to be his mother. Its only a matter of time!
The ‘Fantasy Island’ Person, Place, and Thing spanking story contest really got some imaginations going…and here’s a little whodunit for you all, spanking style.
Readers,
The Very Bad Boy has now received his Delrin punishment. As you know, Angel received hers weeks ago, so it was about time to get VBB’s out of the way, too. I honestly hope that this is the final punishment that either of them receives from me.
He wasn’t allowed to roll the fuzzy dice, as Angel was kind (cruel) enough to leave a dry-erase die that I could write my own chosen numbers on. So, the lowest number of strokes that the VBB could possibly receive from each of my eleven (yes, I found another in the closet) Delrin implements was 12. The highest was 25.
During the entire duration, his Wonderful Wife stood just out of camera range, keeping a close eye on him.
The VBB managed to bite his tongue throughout the ordeal, keeping back his usual bratty talk. This allowed him to slip somewhat sneakily into a very large bottomspace where likely nothing could’ve reached his limits. Much aftercare was provided him immediately afterward.
This is a very hard corporal punishment session. During the last round of strokes – with a particularly evil and painful Delrin cane – skin breaking does occur.
With all this said, it is likely that the punishment will result in somewhat-cooperative behavior on the part of the Very Bad Boy – for at least a day or two.
– Dana
Click the screenshot above to open the picasa video viewer in a new tab.
 |
| Photos courtesy Miss Sarah Gregory. |
‘Carl’s Date’ is a cautionary tale for scheming boys who try to play tricks on strict co-eds. Another fun entry in the ‘Fantasy Island’ Person, Place, and Thing spanking story contest. Enjoy!
– Dana
Carl was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His father made scandalous tons of money during the high tech crest in the 90’s, then got out before the market fell. As a junior at San Diego State University, Carl had it made. He was smart enough to maintain his grades, belonged to the best fraternity and dated the prettiest girls available. Generally, Carl was looking for fun, not relationships, so he never lingered with only one.
One day, at the fraternity house, Carl was bragging to his buddy Andy about his soon-to-be date with Amie. Now Amie was the captain of the women’s soccer team, a serious student, with a body that rivaled any girl on college.
Andy laughed, “Carl, you are way out of your league. Amie will not be impressed with your cash and we all know that your personality won’t get you far.”
Now it is difficult to tell what Carl possessed the most, cash or confidence. He said,” I bet that, in our first date, I’ll make love with Amie easily. Would you want to make it for a thousand?”
“I don’t have that kind of cash, but I’ll tell you what. You put up a thousand. If you win, I’ll be your man servant for the rest of the semester. I’ll wash your clothes and bring you food.” Andy countered.
“It’s a deal!” Carl said.
“How can I be sure of your success?” asked Andy.
Carl immediately began typing on his computer. Immediately twelve pictures appeared on screen. “These are the security cams for my dad’s island home. I will take Amie to go fishing and we will end up here near the end of our date.”
Carl touched one picture, immediately the master bedroom filled the screen. “For better or worse, you will know the outcome of my date.”
The next day, Andy began getting nervous. He strolled by the soccer field and found Amie. Andy spilled the beans. He told Amie about the bet and the cameras. She smiled and told Andy, “When we set sail, get all of your fraternity brothers, their dates, and see if you can invite most of Carl’s previous dates to a viewing party. I will give you a show Carl will never expect.”
Early Saturday morning Carl picked up Amie. “I’ve have my dad’s boat fueled up for a day fishing. We can have dinner at our own island. You’re going to love it!”
Usually this was enough to seal the deal for some of the dates Carl had been on. When they arrived to Carl’s thirty six foot Hatteras, Amie seemed impressed. ”Oh Carl, this is as nice as most fishing boats I’ve been on. I hope you know where we can find all the fish.”
As Carl eased the boat out of her slip, into the bay, he said, “I’ve usually had good luck catching what I go after.” He broke out a cooler full of cold beer.
“I know,” said Amie, “let’s make a bet, you know, for the largest fish caught. I can’t compete with you for money, but maybe we can find something to wager,”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Carl.
“Tell you what; we will weigh each catches, whoever catches the most pounds, may spank the loser. One whack per pound.” Amie smiled.
“Agreed!” Carl leapt at the chance to spank Amie’s perfect behind.
As the morning passed they began fishing. The beer flowed and Carl had three healthy fish that totaled eighteen pounds. Amie was beginning to worry when suddenly her line began flying off her reel.
“That’s a big one!” shouted Carl, “Do you need help?”
“I’m fine. I can’t trust you with this fish. Your butt is doomed when I land this one” she replied.
As it turned out, truer words were never spoken. Amie pulled in a huge tuna! After it was in the boat, Carl began turning toward his island. The bet worried him, but the other bet was still to win. He pulled on to the island.
“Let’s weigh the fish!” squealed Amie, who knew the outcome. Her fish was 83 pounds Carl’s was 17. “That’s 66 swats!” she sweetly smiled. Across the dock was a large field of bamboo. There was a sharp knife on the dock for cleaning fish. Amie took it and cut a four foot strip of limber bamboo, about ½” thick.
“This should be fun!” She smiled. “I’ll give you a break Carl. I will race you to your house front door for 33 of the swats.”
Carl weighed his prospects. Amie was the captain of the soccer team, but Carl was pretty in shape, plus he still had his confidence. “You’re on.” Carl said.
“At your mark”
“Go!” Carl barked. And off they ran. They were pretty even for the most of the race, but at the last ten yards, Amie burst like she had a new spark of energy. She easily made the front door by a couple yards.
“OK Carl, it’s time to pay up. I’ll only give you 33 right now. We’ll save the others for later. Please lean over this chair on the porch.”
Carl grabbed the arm of the chair and bend over. Amie hugged him from the back her breasts up against his back reminded Carl the reason for this trip. She smiled and reached to grasped Carl’s belt and unfastened his pants while lowering them to his knees.
Meanwhile at Carl’s fraternity house, not another person could fit in the game room where they had Carl’s computer wired to the three big screens. All of Carl’s frat brothers, their dates and all of Carl’s previous dates were enjoying the entertainment which was just beginning.
Amie gave Carl his first stroke with her bamboo cane, a mild one. Carl thought,” This isn’t going to be so bad.”
The second stroke was a little harder. “Carl, why don’t you count each stroke so I don’t lose count?”
“We can start with three”, with that Amie gave Carl the first of a really hard stroke.
“Three, Jesus!” Carl was shocked by the pain. “Four!” this had ceased being fun. “Five” “six, seven, eight” tears began forming in Carl’s eyes. After fifteen, something strange happened. Carl began enjoying his punishment. His rear was on fire, yet he felt really alive. After nineteen Amie said, “This one’s is going to hurt more” She then laid on to one stroke that almost had Carl passing out.
The cane was laid on the wall and Amie began caressing Carl’s behind. She wiped off his tears and gently pulled his pants up. “I’ll give you the thirteen strokes back if you go and get my bag and the fish while I begin supper.”
Tenderly Carl walked toward his boat. He began wishing for softer underwear. So far the trip had been one defeat after another, yet Carl had to admit that he was having the time of his life. He was regretting his bet with Andy, thinking Amie deserved much more respect than he hadn’t given her before. Carl cleaned Amie’s fish; put most of it on ice, and took enough for their meal to the house along Amie’s bag.
As Carl approached his house he smelled something good. He walked in and Amie was in the kitchen. On the stove were greens and a pot of herbal rice.
“Where did you get these?” asked Carl.
“They were in the fridge, I think someone has been here recently.” Amie smiled.
Carl placed the tuna on the counter. “Let me grill us a few tuna steaks. It will take me ten minutes to start the grill and another five for the steaks. How would you like yours?”
“Rare works for me. Can I grab a quick shower?” Amie asked as she grabbed a new beer.
“Please, make yourself at home.” Carl took some charcoal toward the patio.
When the coals were hot Carl threw the steaks on just Amie walked out. She had on one of Carl’s dad’s shirt and apparently that was all. “This was one outstanding woman.” thought Carl while he set the table on the patio.
Carl served the rice and greens with the tuna and they began eating in silence. He couldn’t have asked for better weather and the meal was awesome. The spanking was almost forgotten till Carl sat down to eat. He winced and Amie chuckled,” Are we having problems sitting?”
Stoically, Carl smiled and replied, “No, there must be a splinter on this bench.”
“Good, I was planning to give you some more for dessert.”
“Amie, I have to confess a little secret.” Carl said
“Are you going to tell me about your bet with Andy?” Amie asked. ‘He thought he might lose so he told me Thursday.”
“Son of a bitch!” Carl was crestfallen. “Why did you even go?
“One, for the chance to teach you a lesson, and two, I’ve seen you on campus all year and, from a distance, I kind’ a liked you. To be honest, I’ve had a great time today. To this point you have been honorable, except for the cameras.”
“I was getting ready to tell you about the deal Amie. You have been great and I feel bad the way I set this date. I did everything wrong and I’m sorry. If you want to go back, I’ll start the boat up right now.” Carl never felt this low.
“So you’re trying to forfeit your bet?” Amie asked.
“No, Andy can have the money.”
“No, silly, our bet! I still get to spank you another sixty six swats! And now you really deserve them.”
Funny, but Carl agreed. He smiled when he felt the warm glow on his bottom and got up to clean the table. “Where do you want me to lie?”
“I got this shirt in the master bedroom. There’s plenty room there. I just have one question for you. Do you want your fraternity house to watch you getting spanked, or you making love with me?”
Carl walked into the den where a large panel full of lights blinking. “These switch on the top kills all security cameras.” He reached out and flicked it off and all lights on the panel went off.
Amie began unbuttoning her shirt “Pants off and on the bed! I’ll get the bamboo.” Amie was thinking she could get used to island living. Carl was running to the bedroom with his pants below his knees.
I must admit, I’m pretty chuffed with the ‘Pic Your Bum’ photo contest.
While there may have been only a small number of brave entrants, the voting response was surprisingly robust. Each entrant received a respectable number of votes, but three managed to pull well ahead of the rest.
Of those three, two ‘Bums’ were in a near-dead heat up until the last minutes of the contest.
Total number of votes: 174
And the winner of the ‘Pic Your Bum’ photo contest – and a DVD copy of Sternwood Academy (featuring lots of great actors, spanking models…and me) is:
Congratulations to the winner – he’ll be receiving his Sternwood Academy DVD via US mail.
For more preview photos, scene descriptions, and download links –
click the title links above, or visit:
I will be making a return visit to Rochester, NY, on Friday and Saturday, September 28 & 29, 2012.
Those interested in disciplinary consideration should email danakanespanks@gmail.com.
My sweet friend Sarah Gregory was here recently, and we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to show our enthusiasm for our friends at Caneiac.com. And what better way than a fun little spanking video featuring a few of their implements?
Three leather implements, and two wood – mind you, Sarah’s not a fan of hard play, so a couple of these were a little tough for her. She’s SUCH a good sport!
We hope you enjoy watching
– Dana
This fella has no idea what he’s gotten himself into, in this fun F/M spanking story…
‘Trusting Brandy’ is another excellent entry to the ‘Fantasy Island’ Person, Place, and Thing spanking story contest– enjoy it!
– Dana
Trusting Brandy
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
She wasn’t answering him. Jake could feel the boat slowing and Brandy had not spoken since just after they had left the resort’s dock. His intuition was getting the best of him. He had not heard his wife’s voice for too long now. He loved her completely, but she had a tendency to lean more towards the naive side of life. Who had she hired? The part of the world had more than a few locals eager to prey on the careless nature of tourist. Damned their anniversary, and damned her “surprise” gift, he had had enough. As the boat slowed even more beneath his feet, he reached to pull the blindfold off.
He did not. Before he could react, another hand ripped the blindfold away. More hands followed, two on each arm pulling him backwards and another pair securing his legs. By the time Jake’s eyes had adjusted to the brightness of the day, he was helplessly being carried in a horizontal position towards the rail of the boat. He searched frantically for Brandy. She was nowhere to be seen. Then he was swinging, and then he was flying. Lastly he was in the water.
He sank briefly, felt his feet touch bottom, and pushed off to regain the water’s surface. Already the boat, the boat that held his wife, his life, was speeding away. He screamed her name, and was shaken a bit by the terror he heard in his own voice. Impulsively he began a desperate and useless attempt to swim after the watercraft. His effort, and his hope, quickly faded. He was a weak simmer in the best of situations, now against the tide and weighted down with this absurd tuxedo, all he could do was watch the boat quickly vanish from the reality of his horizon.
It was as he turned away from the waves to catch his breath that he saw the island….and the woman.
By the time Jake reached the shore he was as close to exhaustion as he had ever been. He had pushed hard, and even with the tide on his side it had taken him much longer than he had hoped. The last quarter mile had been shallow enough to run, but not shallow enough to run well.
Still he pushed hard, for the woman drew closer he could see her elegance. Her white dress was flowing in the ocean breeze, melting into brim of her sun hat, creating a contrasting frame to highlight the short raven hair and darkly tanned skin. He could see her jewelry sparkle in the sunlight. A woman who wore stones big enough to sparkle on the beach was the kind of woman who most certainly owned a very good cell phone. And so he pushed on hard. When he finally reached her, he fell to the ground at her feet, gasping for air enough to power his lungs to speech.
She looked down upon him and smiled. “Welcome to my island”
At last Jake found his voice “Please,..my wife..they took her..please.. a phone”.
She reached down, took his chin in her hand and tilted his head to meet her gaze. The smile remained, but he saw harshness in her eyes. Her tone was pleasant, yet unmistakably firm. “We need to get you out of this sun. Come”.
With that she turned, and gracefully strode graceful towards a gazebo a few hundred feet up from the beaches edge. By the time Jake had found his faculties, she had ascended the structures stairs, placed her thin walking stick on a wooden table and began to pour herself a drink.
When he finally reached the platform she spoke again. “Please remove that wretched attire. You look like a wet penguin. There are few penguins in the South Pacific. Here is something a little more suitable for the men of my island to wear” She reached out her hand towards him. In it was a primitive looking loin cloth.
Jake ignored her gesture. It would be the first and last time he ignored her. He turned away from her, held the gazebos railing and searched the waters for a trace of Brandy’s boat. “Please Ma’am; please may I use your phone. My wife has been…”
His words where lost mid-sentence. The woman quickly reached down, retrieved her walking stick, and with the speed and grace of a gazelle, brought the wicked implement down full strength across the seat of his damp trousers.
“Brandy is fine, Jake! For her sake it would be in your best interest to display some of the manners and respect. Now do as I told you and remove your clothing!”
She had his full interest now, both mentally and physically. She knew where Brandy was, thank God, there was hope. Slowly, his eyes ever shifting from the woman’s determined face, to the formidable length of bamboo in her hand, Jake peeled away the wet tux. When it was off, after she motioned him with the stick to hang it over the railing, he slipped on the loincloth. With his hands at his side he awaited further instruction.
“That is a much better boy. Thank you.”
She went to the table, set down the walking stick, pulled a chair away from the table, and seated herself.
“Come here, across my knee”
Jake obeyed. Did he have any choice? For Brandy he would put molten lava into his mouth if this woman told him to. He walked to her, and stretched himself across her lap. The woman guided him, her hands motioning him to adjust his position to suit her intention. Once satisfied, she easily flipped up the back of his flimsy cloth, baring his bottom to her ministrations. She traced a finger along the single welt on his cheeks.
“My, my, that bamboo certainly left its mark didn’t it? Even though those thick pants. Imagine how it will feel upon your bare behind? Not to worry Jake, I will not be using it on you. That pleasure will be reserved for your wife when she arrives.”
She paused, just long enough to reach for something from the table. When she resettled her body, she made sure Jake caught a glimpse of the brush in her hand.
“Brandy loves you very much; you are a lucky, lucky man. Her boat should be docking up shore right about now. She will be her in thirty minutes or so to reintroduce you to that very walking stick. So where does that leave you and I? Well, while we are waiting…..”
She raised the brush high.
END
Readers,
Here’s your chance to help me (and your fellow spanking fans) out with a little contest. A few weeks ago, I requested that readers take a photo of their bum, along with the words “Pic Your Bum” to show that the photo was taken specifically for the contest.
Now I’m asking you all to vote on your favorite Bum Pic. The photos are in random order, and all entrants will remain anonymous, of course. I’ll accept votes for a week, then announce the winner here.
The winner will receive the new spanking DVD release ‘Sternwood Academy’.
* Please only vote once. Cheaters will be publicly shamed.
* Comments will be moderated.
(Good luck to the ‘Bums’!)
– Dana
I think you’ll all agree that the ‘Fantasy Island’ Person, Place, and Thing spanking story contest has generated some very detailed, thoughtful, and imaginative tales. I will post up all entries throughout the month of September, and you’ll be delighted at the island spankings taking place in each.
While all of the entries were really quite remarkable, I was particularly taken with one titled “Tropical Island” – this month’s winner. Twisty and magical, this is a spanking story with a literary imagination of it’s own.
You’ll be happy to read that the author will receive, for his hard work and creativity, a very sound spanking.
Enjoy!
PS. My sincerest thanks to the wonderful writers who continue to populate these contests. Even though not everyone can win every contest, these talented people take the time to imagine, write, edit, and share their spanking fantasy stories with us all.
– Dana
It was all very strange – she couldn’t remember getting here – wherever ‘here’ was, or indeed anything that had gone before, yet she knew she was wearing an exclusive yellow shantung dress and £275 Christian Louboutin shoes. She also knew, without knowing how, that she was wearing a matching set of What Katie Did lingerie and a pair of almost colourless – and extremely expensive – seven denier Gerbe Voile stockings.
In front of her, the sea was that wonderful Mediterranean blue that only ever seemed to exist in films, while spotless white sands disappeared into the horizon both left and right. Behind her were palm trees and a narrow road leading to a large, white, colonial-style building, which she just knew she was staying in.
Quite why she was here, at the beach, in such unsuitable clothes, she couldn’t begin to imagine – and why, despite all she did know, she couldn’t even remember her own name. ‘This is curiouser than Alice,’ she thought – or perhaps even said out aloud. It was difficult to tell as everything felt so unreal. She didn’t feel any pain or discomfort and couldn’t remember being in any kind of accident that might have caused amnesia – and if she had been in one, why was she here, rather than at home – assuming, of course this wasn’t her home …?
Her thoughts were interrupted when a middle-aged man appeared, almost like a Demon King in a pantomime, at her side. He, like her was not really dressed for the beach, although his white linen suit, his Sea-Island cotton shirt and his panama hat (Did anyone wear panama hats any more? she wondered) were of the very best and his sandals, while not new, looked beautifully-made – and probably hand-lasted. He carried a walking-cane of yellowish-brown bamboo but didn’t seem to need its help – it just went with the whole picture so well.
‘Good day, young lady,’ he said, doffing his hat to her and bowing ever so slightly from the waist, ‘How nice it is to see you again.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t seem to remember you – or anything else very much, to be honest. Are you sure we’ve met before?’
‘Oh, yes, Miss, indeed we have – on several occasions. We don’t always look the way we do today, however, and that’s probably confusing you somewhat.’
‘Well – who did we look like? The last time we met, I mean.’
‘Hmmm – let me think …. It’s more than just looks, to be quite honest with you; we are sometimes quite different people, yet underneath all that, always the same people, if you follow … but I can see you don’t, Shall we sit down on this nice little bench seat here and I’ll see what I can do about telling you all there is to know.’
She hadn’t noticed the delicate, wrought-iron and painted wood bench seat – or the little table, along with two glasses and a jug of something that looked deliciously cold. Was she going mad – or had she been out in this lovely sunlight for too long? Oh, well ….
He poured a drink for them both and settled back, saying, ‘Now let me see – the last time we met – you were a schoolgirl – your name, if I remember correctly, was Erica Bradshaw, and I was Miss Helen Byrne-Jones, the head teacher of a 1950s English girls boarding school called St Walpurga’s – and I had just given you twelve strokes of the senior cane on your pretty little bare bottom, with your knickers around your knees.’
‘Y-you were a woman – a teacher …?’
‘Yes, my dear – and you were a naughty, eighteen-year-old minx who had pushed her luck once too often and a little too hard. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. The time before that, I was an over-worked and overwrought business woman and you were my lazy Lesbian lover. I had to give you six good ones with the Lochgelly tawse to encourage you to pull your weight around the house instead of spending all your time reading BDSM fiction on the internet and -er – playing naughty games, if you get my – anyway, happy days.’
‘Hmmph – for you, no doubt. Do you always get to whack girls? Are you some kind of pervert who gets his kicks from another’s pain?’
‘As a matter of fact, I don’t – always whack girls, that is. Now, that’s taken you aback, hasn’t it? I was once – no, twice – a fearsome lady, a Head of Household by the name of Mistress Karen, who kept her husband Ron very firmly in his place with frequent application of a Lexan paddle to his bare backside. You were, of course, Ron – in those particular cases and I – well, I’ll leave that to you to work out.
‘So – you are telling me ….’
‘Yes – that I am Spanker and you, my dear, are Spankee; those are our fixed roles which can be moulded as our creator thinks fit.’
‘Our C-creator?’ she said, involuntarily looking skyward as if to catch a glimpse of the same.
‘Oh, no – not ‘Creator’ with a big ‘C’, just creator – our author, as he likes to think of himself; others might disagree with the term.’
‘W-we are characters in a story?’
‘That’s right. May I get you another drink – it will stay at this amount and perfect temperature until our creator remembers to do something with it, so we may as well enjoy it while we can.’
‘Er – thank you, I will have another. W-where are we – and why are we here, do you think?’
‘I would say we are on some idealised tropical island, probably a semi-prepared scenario for a competition of some sort; this isn’t his usual kind of thing, and I am assuming he is setting the scene with us. That’s probably why you are dressed for a night at the opera when a swimsuit, a sarong and a sun-hat would have been much more suitable attire.’
‘Swimsuit, sarong and sun-hat – lazy Lesbian lover … they are both examples of – what is it – alliteration, aren’t they? A writer’s trick?’
‘Quite so, my dear – O.C considers himself very literate and loves to indulge in a little wordplay; sometimes he even drags in some portentous but often not quite appropriate Latin phrase to show how smart he is; he can’t seem to help himself. Sadly, these little tricks often displace much idea of a good story, apart from when we get to a list of “Whack!”s, followed quickly by “Ouch!”es, which is what all of his stories are about, really. That, and a half-hour in the corner with your bare, bruised bottom on display.’ He almost winced as he trotted out yet another clumsy alliteration.
‘And I – I am here to be whacked – is that it?’
‘You have it in one, my dear – spanked, caned, tawsed or paddled – or any combination of the four. He did have a minor flirtation with dressage whips, but that was a long while ago – in fact, he hasn’t written anything at all in quite some time, although what he calls “impact play” occupies his thoughts an awful lot.’
‘So, what will happen, then – if you don’t mind telling me. Will you just put me over your knee and spank me – is that it? Will you be using that wicked-looking walking cane on me?’
‘Oh, no, my dear, I wouldn’t think so for a minute. Our creator isn’t very good, but he isn’t a brute; this cane is merely a prop, and almost certainly part of the scene he is setting. And even he has to have some kind of reason for me to spank you.
‘What kind of reason?’
‘My, you do ask a lot of questions, young lady – you are making me quite thirsty again,’ he said, pouring another drink from the jug; the level of liquid didn’t change by as much as a millimetre.
‘Essentially, there are only a few distinct stories in all literature. Some authorities – if that is a suitable word – claim there are twenty. Others, Booker, for instance, maintain there are only seven, while there are those who have identified – or at least claim to have identified, thirty-six. It seems to be very much a case of “paying your money and taking your choice”, but there are generally acknowledged to be nine sub-plots involving spanking, if that’s any help to you.’
‘Well, it’s a good job we have somewhere to sit and a seemingly endless supply of this delicious drink to get through while you tell me about them – do go on – I am intrigued.’
‘Before I begin, may I ask your name, Miss? It would make things much easier if I didn’t have to keep calling you “Miss”, “young lady” or “my dear”.’
‘Why, of course – I should have said earlier. My name is … now that’s odd – all I can think of is [a].’
‘Oh, the lazy bugger! He calls himself a writer? – why, he hasn’t even given us proper names yet and is still using place-markers – how ever he hopes to get this published, even on-line, is quite beyond me. It would appear that I am [b], by the way.’
‘You were saying, Mr [b] ….’
‘Oh, yes, the plots. Well, we aren’t in an office situation, so you probably haven’t been dipping in to the petty cash or using the company ‘phone to chat to your aunt in Saskatchewan in company time. Nor are you a schoolgirl – this time, at any rate, nor a frustrated but horny lady who just fancies getting her bottom warmed for the fun of it.’
‘Well, that’s three out of the way!’
‘Yes, so on we go. You haven’t been abducted by some whip-wielding wacko to be a plaything for his perverted pleasure – oh, my, here we go again! – yet more shoddy alliteration. We really must try to get a better author, or at least improve the one we have. Where did we get to?’
‘Five’
‘Oh, yes. Well, we don’t appear to be part of “the family that spanks together” or the blushing bride being “instructed in her new duties”. I may just be an uncle you have been sent to spend some time with in order for him to “adjust your attitude”, or your boss – “if you want to keep your job, Miss [a] …”. That leaves us with only one more option, the “professional spanking service”, but I think that one is best left alone, don’t you?’
‘Yes – but I’m not crazy about any of them, to be honest. Then again, I suppose we have to be here for something – a competition, you said you thought it might be?’
‘I think that’s the most likely reason, and that the wayward rich girl being sent to spend some time with an older relative, in a place she can’t easily leave, in order to “learn some respect” is probably the best we can speculate upon at pre ….
***
Ken Thompson closed the file named ‘Story 11 – Notes’, opened a new window on his laptop and typed in:
‘Tropical Island Competition Entry’
by saucy_scribe
Part One – Coming to the Island
The Cessna Caravan, belonging to the ABG Group of Companies, had been adapted from its normal, freight-only role to carry four passengers in addition to its monthly payload of supplies for the small tropical isle owned and inhabited by Raymond Gardner, among the richest men on The Times rich-list, and his hand-picked staff.
Today, his niece, Caroline Andrews, was flying in to spend some time with her uncle Ray – not that this would have been her choice of holiday, however; her parents, scandalised by Caroline’s dropping-out of University and her subsequent wild partying that had cost a lot of money to keep out of the papers and away from the beady eyes of the police, had decided to send her to live with her mother’s brother for a month.
He was a well-known businessman and had a no-nonsense reputation; if anyone could bring Caroline around on to the right track, it was Raymond Gardner – and, for a month, Caroline would have nowhere else to go ….
The Captain announced the narrow runway was in sight and that the passengers, Caroline and Norah Phillips, her governess/nanny/minder/prison-guard – Caroline was never quite certain which of these hats she was wearing at any particular moment – should fasten their seat-belts and prepare for landing.
Norah touched Caroline’s arm gently, saying ‘Wake up, Caroline – we are almost at your uncle’s island. Did you have a nice little snooze?’
‘Er – yes, thank you, Norah, but I had the strangest dream ….’
The chunky little turbo-prop with its large, soft tyres, came to a stop on the white, sandy runway and suddenly hands were quickly unloading the supplies and refuelling the small aircraft. A middle-aged man wearing a white linen suit, a Sea-Island cotton shirt and hand-made sandals was waiting, just outside the landing-area, for the two women who would be his guests for the next month. He waved to them with an ornate bamboo walking-cane ….
‘Now come along, Caroline, and stop day-dreaming! We have to see about getting our things taken up to the house and then I think we could both do with a good long soak and a rest before dinner. Why don’t you wear your lovely new yellow dress and those fabulous CL shoes and wow your uncle Raymond? Tomorrow, we’ll put on our swimsuits, sun-hats and sarongs and hit that gorgeous beach! Caroline – Caroline …?’
END
I will be revisiting my lovely playmates in New York City on Nobember 12-14, followed by Albany, NY, and Toronto.
Also, I’ve added a return trip to Memphis, TN, on October 12-13.
For disciplinary consideration, please read the Appointments page, then email me directly at:
danakanespanks@gmail.com.
The new survey, “Your Opinions: Spanking Movies” has had an excellent response. Want to see how your answers stack up next to other spanking movie fans?
Of 334 currents responses:
Which spanking movie sub-genres do you enjoy? (Number of respondents, followed by percentage of overall responses. Remember that, on many survey questions, respondents may choose ‘all that apply’ – so percentages will add up to more than 100%.)
Female Top/ Male Bottom 277 85%
Female Top/ Female Bottom 149 46%
Male Top/ Female Bottom 74 23%
Male Top/ Male Bottom 26 8%
How hard a spanking do you like to see?
Light, gentle, barely pink 5 1%
A little harder, but no marks 16 5%
Stinging, thudding, and wiggling. Light marks. 38 11%
A good, hard spanking. Moderate marks. 183 55%
Punishment, pain, heavy marks. 82 25%
In a role-play scene, which types of top/bottom scenario do you enjoy?
| Marital Discipline | 181 | 56% | |||||
| Teacher/Student | 176 | 54% | |||||
| Doctor(or Nurse)/Patient | 62 | 19% | |||||
| Boss/Employee | 130 | 40% | |||||
| Mother/Son(or Daughter) | 128 | 39% | |||||
| Aunt/Nephew( or Niece) | 162 | 50% | |||||
| Ageplay | 57 | 17% | |||||
|
Other
|
45 |
14%
|
Bottom behavior: What types of behavior do you enjoy seeing the bottom display?
|
The Demeanor of the Top: What personality traits do you enjoy seeing the top display?
| Loving, Calm | 132 | 41% | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Concerned, Nurturing | 132 | 41% | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Scolding/ Lecturing | 220 | 69% | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Angry/ Vengeful | 81 | 25% | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Sensual | 112 | 35% | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Maternal | 121 | 38% | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Other
Spanking Movie Wardrobe: How do you prefer to see a female top dressed?
|
24 |
8%
|
The August Person, Place, and Thing writing contest – ‘Fantasy Island’ – will end on August 31. The winner will be announced first of September. Story writing winners will win a spanking session with me, and all qualifying entries will be posted for your reading enjoyment during the month of September.
The ‘Pic Your Bum’ photo contest will end September 3. I will then post up all qualifying entries and give readers one week to vote on the winner. The ‘Pic Your Bum’ winning photo will receive a DVD copy of ‘Sternwood Academy’ via US mail.
If participation in the ‘Bum’ contest warrants, I will continue holding non-writing-type contests, with the next winner to receive a Dana Kane Custom DVD.
“Red. Yellow. Green. Mercy”….”That’s too hard. It hurts. Please stop”….
Balderdash. Nonsense. Tosh. Rubbish. It is NOT too hard. It’s supposed to hurt. No way, Jose.
Safe words are useless to me. Allowing my spankee to relieve him/herself of the discomfort of a spanking by spewing random words into the room is a Hard Limit.
Spanking – even punishment spanking – is about consent.
It’s also about trust.
If my playmate has so little trust in me that he must have a special word at hand to gain control of me at a moment’s notice, then it’s likely that we have not gotten to know one another well enough just yet. If I am uncertain of his full consent before the spanking begins, well…it’s not going to happen.
Instead, I require that my spankee engage me – with his eyes and his voice – and politely request a short break. I believe, and have seen through my own experiences, that requiring the bottom to make eye contact and verbally express his inability to ‘take it’ requires a lot more chutzpah than bleating some random word or phrase into the floorboards. I am convinced that holding the spankee responsible for his or her own discipline is an empowering and uplifting circumstance.
Also, by removing the safe-word option, the bottom has the opportunity to say all those things which, under safe-word circumstances, would likely leave the spanker wondering whether they’d gone too far:
“Please stop, please!”
“Ohmygod, it hurts! That’s too hard!!”
“I don’t think I can take it!”
“Okay, okay…I changed my mind..”
I have heard all these and more. Begging, cajoling, outright insistence that I stop immediately…
All simply reasons to spank harder, scold more convincingly, and manhandle my spankee.
If you need a break, twist your little neck around, look me straight in the eye, and ask for it. Otherwise, your protestations and safe words will fall on deaf, spank-obsessed ears.
– Dana
Disclaimer: These are my opinions. They may or may not reflect your preferred play style or opinions. If not, let’s just agree to disagree.
Loading…
This is a fun, strict scene shot with Pandora Blake and Mike Stryker.
From Pandora, on Dreams of Spanking:
I will be visiting my friends and playmates in Texas in October: San Antonio on Saturday the 20th, and Houston on Saturday the 27th.
Please read the Appointments page before emailing:
danakanespanks@gmail.com
Written by one of my lovely playmates and friends, this story is a fun spin on something quite possibly close to real life…
SUITE REVENGE
Peggy Pritchett sat at her desk at the Merrymount Residential Suites. The crossword puzzle was giving her some difficulty, although most of the answers were 3- and 4-letters; and the “Real Housewives of Atlanta” show was giving it, and Peggy’s concentration, quite a challenge. She wasn’t particularly attractive, and her well-padded derriere lopped over the edges of the chair a bit; but ultimately, it was her personality, and the way she treated her employees and customers, that gave her the lowest marks.
“What,” exclaimed Daniella Kaufmann, “you can’t possibly be serious?” Daniella was trying to check into the luxury suite she had reserved several weeks ago. “I’ve never heard of a hotel that won’t accept cash,” she continued, trying not to lose her dignified composure.
“I’m sorry Ms. Kaufmann, but I don’t make the rules here, my supervisor does,” said Leslie, a sweet young woman who was trapped in the middle of her boss’ policy.
Daniella was like the polar opposite of Peggy, in practically every respect. Gorgeous face, athletic, beautifully-toned body (accented by stylish $300 jeans) and an even more stylish, bodacious body. And quite an IQ to go with it all, with a winning personality and an extraordinarily positive attitude toward life, to boot.
“I’d like to speak with your supervisor, then,” said Ms. Kaufmann.
About ten minutes later, Ms. Pritchett emerged, angry at being pulled away from the Atlanta housewives. “Yea, whada you, want,” she says to Daniella.
“Listen ma’am, I’ve come a long way for a very important meeting that’s scheduled to begin in 45 minutes. My corporation, DK Enterprises, a Fortune 500 company, of which I am CEO, made a reservation for a first-class Suite at your hotel, the caterers will arrive any minute now, as will the Board of Directors and our guests, and your associate is telling me that you won’t accept cash payment?”
“That’s right, lady, only credit here,” says Peggy, scowling.
“Look,” continued Daniella, “this country has been trying to run on credit, to its incredible detriment, and so much so that even our government has been trying to cut down the huge deficit this has caused. There’s simply no justification for your position and I am politely requesting that you waive your policy for us,” and with that, she waved several hundred-dollar bills at Peggy.
“Nope. Ain’t no way I’m guna make no ‘ceptions, for you or nobody,” came the response.
Unable to contain herself, and on the verge of tears, Daniella Kaufmann stepped outside. She lit up a cigarette and sighed to herself, “damn, I had just given these things up.”
As luck would have it, just at that moment, Steve Miller, Executive Director and the brains behind DKE pulled up, in his sporty S-2000, right in front of Daniella.
Seeing his Daniella in distress, he jumped out of the car and bolted to her side. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
Still visibly shaken, she explained everything to him. Then the catering truck pulled in.
Steve looked directly into her deep, but slightly watery eyes, and told her, “Don’t you worry, sugar, I’ll take care of everything, first for you, and then for DKE.”
He hugged her, went back to his car and produced an ice-cold bottle of raspberry tea, DK’s fav. “Yummy” said Daniella, and the sparkle to her eyes started to re-emerge.
“Daniella, leadership is practically your middle name; but sometimes these ignominious women need the masculine touch. Have some tea, tell the caterers to start unloading and I’ll take care of everything else, ok?” Steve could push a hidden, little submissive button on her. She lowered her eyes and graciously consented — she liked him a lot.
Steve entered the hotel’s reception area, where he found Peggy. “Let’s go into your office for a moment, Ms.. what did you say your name was?”
“Pritchett. Peggy Pritchett,” she blurted with a bit of fear in her voice, and she led him into her “office.” To Peg’s consternation, the housewives had finished their episode.
“Ah, Merrymount, I think we can work this out,” said Steve calmly.
“Ain’t nuthin guna be worked out, no credit card no room, plain and simple,” said Peggy with all the authority she could muster.”
“Would you excuse me for just a moment, ma’am,” queried Mr. Miller.
“Sure..” came the response.
Steve stepped out of Peg’s office and got on his iPhone. 5 minutes later, Peg’s phone rang. A few minutes after that, Ms. Pritchett emerged.
“Could you please come back into my office, Mr. Miller,” she asked, very timidly.
“Why, but of course,” came the response.
“Seems as though Merrymount is a subsidiary of AGF, and your company owns it, Mr. Miller?”
“Precisely!” Knowing exactly how he had hammer-locked this tidbit employee, Steve went into action.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Peg.” You will give Ms. Kaufmann your finest suite immediately; the caterers are waiting.”
“Yes, sir”
“At 5pm, you, and that nice girl who works outside, Leslie..?”
“Yes, Leslie.”
“The two of you will come and be part of the meeting. Is all of this perfectly clear,” he said with incredible, but soft-spoken authority.
“Yes, sir.”
******************************
The meeting began promptly at 4:30. Daniella Kaufmann, CEO, Steve Miller, Executive Director, eight members of the Board of Trustees, and 2 models, Cheyenne and Mona, were in attendance. Secretary Frank Zenoni read the minutes of the previous meeting, which were approved. Treasurer Mike Kona presented his report, glowing and approved.
About 20 minutes into the meeting, Daniella took over. Her charm, intelligence, wit, and yes, sexuality, as always, won everyone’s attention. But it was her organizational skills that carried everything through so smoothly.
“Before I introduce our new product line, let’s have libations and cuisine!” she said, with a big grin on her face. Well, the company being so successful, why not celebrate? And what a spread it was. Open bar including premium liquors, and the finest of appetizing.. smoked sturgeon, lox, whitefish, sable.. Cold cuts, salads, and even tables devoted to the vegans and those requiring a gluten-free meal. Something for everyone.
While the group was relishing consuming their favorite cuisine and libation, Daniella again took over.
“And now, while your appetites are being whetted, nurtured, and tantalized, I would like to introduce our new product line to you. As most of you know, one of our many ventures is to produce some of the finest, most effective spanking implements, in this or any market. Our research tries to find anything that could possibly strike a naked buttocks and produce the kind of effects that those who have this predilection yearn for.”
At just that moment, the suite’s doorbell rang. Steve went to the door and there were Ms. Pritchett, looking most contrite, and Leslie, her friendly desk girl. “Well, look what we have here, one nice girl, named Leslie, and one not nice one named.. um, Ms. Piggish,” announced Steve. “That’s Pritchett,” blurted Peg. “Oh, well, for now, we’ll just refer to you as Ms. Piggy (laughter.. and humiliation).
Daniella realized that her Prince Valiant, Steve, had provided her with a golden opportunity to extract retribution, and revenge! Without missing a beat or a cue, she started Act I, Scene 1. “First, let’s have our lovely models, Cheyenne and Mona, get comfortable.” The stunning ladies removed their wrap-around skirts in a flash, showing everyone their hot bodies, now clad only in their thong bikinis. Talk about rear ends that just seem to yearn to be spanked! “We had planned to test out these newest implements on your stunning posteriors ladies, but I think it’s time for you to turn the tables and let Ms. Piggy be the guinea!” Uproarious laughter, more embarassment. “So, what are you waiting for girls, let the games begin,” shouted Daniella, gleefully.
Mona and Cheyenne hopped into action, grabbing Peg’s arms and wrestling her down to her undies in record time. Before anyone could say, “Moi?,” she was over Cheyenne’s knee. Cheyenne, no novice at delivering a spanking, began with fairly crisp smacks over those rather thick undies. After a couple dozen of those, she 86ed the ugly undies and began working on the bare. Peggy started to yelp a bit and Daniella cut her off, “Oh come on, we’re being really nice to you by giving you this warm up.” The flabby cheeks started to glow pink and, strangely enough, they looked better!
Cheyenne, whose hand was starting to feel what Ms. Pritchett’s butt was, turned her prey over to Mona, who let loose with quite a flurry. After several dozen spanks, the pink was reddening a bit, with a strawberry or two. Daniella went over to Leslie and whispered, “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you.”
Ms. Kaufmann clapped her hands, in rhythm with the spanks, and said, “Are we ready to reveal our new line of products?” “YES!” came the unison response from the spectators. And with that, Steve rolled out a novel looking bicycle, with remote control and.. cuffs! “Ladies and gentlemen, DKE has bought the rights to this ingenious device from a researcher working on something called the B.A.C.O.N. project. Mona and Cheyenne were familiar with it and they dragged Peggy, now totally nude, over to it, securing her wrists and ankles with a touch of the remote. They positioned her rump perfectly for the testing of these implements. And just to make her life a little more unpleasant, they turned on the bike, forcing her to pump those pedals, which made those cheeks ever-so-tempting to punish.
Steve pulled back a purple satin cloth to reveal about a dozen new implements of all sorts. There were paddles made of imported woods in various sizes, from pocket-book size to deadly. Riding crops, buggy whips, straps.. it was a spankophile’s cornucopia.
“Now I’d like each of you to pick out whichever titillates you the most, and try it on our special guest, Ms. Pissit,” said Steve. “It’s Pritchett,” exclaimed Peggy. “You shouldn’t correct me,” said Steve, who grabbed the large Malaysian wood paddle, raised it high, and brought it down with a WHACK, right across the sweet “sit spot.” Peg screamed. Her cheeks reddened almost immediately. “Well, I guess we’ll use this one somewhat judiciously; after all, we’re not sadists,” chortled Steve.
One by one, the guests tried each and every implement. There were paddles made of the finest leather that produced sounds truly musical to the ear. Canes that swished and left perfect “lines” across the buttocks. And riding crops that left beautiful marks. After about 15-20 minutes of this, the members were satisfied with nearly all of these beautiful toys. A few had some criticisms, which were duly noted so that the products could be further refined and retested.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please,” announced Steve. It was hard to stop everyone having such a good smacking time but the group acquiesced. “There is one last thing on the agenda here that we must attend to. You see, a wrong must be righted, and our CEO, Ms. Kaufmann, and this lovely employee of Ms. Piggy, have both been subjected to abuse in the workplace. Therefore, I think it only fitting that Daniella choose whichever implement she feels will be most effective and deliver 10 of the best, whilst Peggy count each blow and apologize to Leslie.” He was greeted by cheers, applause and whistles from a crowd anxious to witness this charming scenario.
Steve went over to his darling associate and whispered, “Now I really want you to potch that tuchas good, darling.” Steve knew that those Yiddish words, which mean smack that ass, roughly, would find a soft spot in Daniella’s soul.
Dana brought the souped-up bike to a halt and positioned the target for herself. Then she carefully selected a paddle. It wasn’t the biggest, thickest or heaviest, but it may have been the one that produces the most sting and burn. Leslie positioned herself, at Steve’s direction, directly in front of Leslie, so she could watch carefully observe her reactions.
SMACK, came the first blow, catching Peggy completely unprepared. “I didn’t hear ONE, I’m sorry Leslie,” so we’ll have to re-do that one. Ready,” asked Steve. Sniffling, Peg said yes. SMACK! “One, I’m sorry Leslie.”
“Look at her when you say that,” ordered Steve
TWO was even harder. Peg was fighting the tears. By the time Daniella got to FOUR she had given in to it all. Daniella felt this and, for once in her life, the satisfaction of knowing that someone was getting what they deserved, and would most likely not be repeating this abominable treatment of others. Whacks FIVE through TEN were delivered like a real professional. Daniella was no novice to delivering a perfect paddling, with major reddening but no skin breaks or bleeding.
Ms. Peggy Pritchett was released from the device. She immediately went to Leslie and apologized. Rubbing her raw ass, she went over to Daniella, apologized and thanked her.
Steve put his arm around Daniella. “What say, as soon as our meeting is adjourned, we go out for some Thai food, sugar? I’ll do the ordering.” Oh, yes, purred Daniella.
Both of them knew that Peggy Pritchett would not be sitting at her desk again for quite some time.
Marital discipline roleplay with a cute, young playmate.
What is he doing with my panties?! Wait, some of these aren’t even mine..they’re too big for me..
Has he been wearing panties?
Watch me catch him playing with panties, force him to put them on, and then spank his bottom good and hard.
Sexy F/f spanking video with Dana Kane.
She’s posed herself just as I asked, eyes covered, and ass up. I slide my hands into pretty white lace gloves, massage, spank, and tickle her bottom with feathers.
After removing the gloves, I rub massage oil into her pink bottom’s swollen skin, then spank her hard with my bare hands while sitting on her legs.
Lots of sexy whispering, rubbing, tickling, and fingernails…
Since the writing contests are so much fun, and I’ve had an enormous amount of positive feedback from them, it seems only right to continue the trend.
While I receive many excellent entries to each story writing contest, I’ve also received many emails from readers who just aren’t confident enough in their writing skills to enter. So I’ve decided to host a new set of contests, for those of you who aren’t natural writers, and to give away some fun spanking-related prizes to the winners.
The first new contest will be:
This one should be a LOT of fun:
Take a self-shot photo of your bottom. Your photo may be either pre- or post-spanking, clothed or nude, and funny, interesting, sexy, or whatever else you come up with.
Include in your photo a piece of paper on which you’ve written “Pic Your Bum” (so I know that the photo is you, and taken specifically for the contest).
All entries will be posted here on my blog, and other readers will choose the winner.
Please, no overtly sexual or obscene imagery.
Since bratting has been somewhat of a theme in my personal life of late, I thought that it would make an excellent topic of conversation today.
If you’ve seen the recently posted Angel’s Delrin Punishment video (and others), you are well aware of my personal opinions on things like bratting, ‘topping from the bottom’, and Asking For It. These are, in my opinion,titles we use for those times when a spanko wants/needs a spanking and won’t just come out and say so. Yes, the bratting is part of the fun – and some spankings would be much less enjoyable without a bit of it – but the outcome for the bottom is the same: a sound spanking.
And where would we tops be without playmates who are willing to misbehave in order to gain our attentions?
Many of my playmates tell me outright that they’re unapologetic brats, and that they have all intention to use those brat skills to push my buttons, so to speak. This always tickles me to no end. Without their hard work and attention to detail I would rarely have the opportunity to state indignantly “How DARE you do that, young man (or young lady)?!”
But sometimes line-crossing occurs; playful bottoms become so engaged in their fun bratting activities that it is sometimes forgotten that this isn’t entirely a ‘game’. To my mind, there must be some inherent top/bottom-perspective respect – from all parties – for the protocols of power exchange. This means that, at some point, bratting must be dealt with, and without prejudice, anger, or resentment.
This is an excellent time for you (tops, bottoms, and especially switches) to give your perspectives on bratting – is this behavior which you encourage or actively participate? What do you feel are the reasons that spanking play is so often associated with brat behavior? Is the brat persona real, or manufactured?
– Dana
Ladies and Gentlemen,
This is a fantastic new project on which I’ve been working with my friends at Alpine Sierra Studios. In it, several naughty schoolgirls are taught how to be proper ladies, and to comport themselves with dignity and respect. When they do not, serious discipline is in order.
Watch as Coach Michaels, Feenix, and I take these young ladies in hand:
(Featuring Cali Cutie, Alex Reynolds, Cheyenne Jewel, Ela Darling, Heather Michaels, and Lucky Sky.)
Tuesday through Friday, October 9-12, I will be re-visiting my playmates in Chicago, Detroit, and St. Louis.
Please read the Appointments page before emailing:
danakanespanks@gmail.com
Angel has been bratting, publicly, for the past few months, on social networking sites like Twitter.
After allowing both Angel and The VBB enough rope to hang themselves, so to speak, I decided it was time for punishment.
The following video is Angel’s Delrin Punishment:
(What follows is real punishment – not brutal, but certainly not for the squeamish. And Angel’s tears are real, too…)
– Dana
I have been waiting for over twenty minutes, and now he’s made me miss an important business meeting…because he’s been playing games! His laid-back attitude just makes me more angry, and I snatch the large sport paddle from his hands, bend him right over, and administer a hard, fast paddling. He won’t keep me waiting again.
(Click on the title link for more photos and download link.)
Episode Two in the series Angel’s Spankotherapy: Road Rage.
Angel admits that her therapy is working thus far, so we dive into the next subject – her inability to control her emotions while driving. We speak for several minutes, about the specific situations she gets into, and then follow with her impact therapy: 100 strokes with a braided leather strap. Road rage is dangerous, and Angel must learn how important this lesson really is.
All Spankotherapy Episodes are available in both Short and Extended Versions. Both versions include the same spanking scene, with the Extended version including the full, twenty-plus minute dialogue.
(Click on the title link for more photos and download link.)
Anthony has sent along another excellent story for the Brief Encounter story contest, and, although he wasn’t eligible for the prize – it’s a great read. Thanks, Anthony!
– Dana
The Gambler
by Anthony
It was finally Ryan’s stop. There was a prolonged screech then he had
to nudge a pregnant woman and three tourists out of the way with his
knee to get out the train doors. The thing is, he thought, if you
didn’t work in the City, you bet your nattiest bermuda shorts that you
didn’t belong on the commuter train during rush hour.
The train wooshed its goodbye, hurtling away to its next destination.
Uh-oh, wait! He turned and beckoned to the almost vanished train.
Something was wrong here. Really wrong.
What should have been a bustling train station, his station, the
station he frequented each work day for better or worse, was
completely empty. Empty as in not a living body within sight.
A white painted sign on the pitted and tagged concrete wall adjacent
to the tracks exclaimed: Nowhere Station.
Nowhere Station?
What the hell had he stepped into now? Furthermore, what deranged
person put graffiti on the wall of Nowhere Station?
That was when he heard the sound. Sound was a charitable word for what
was most certainly a guitar in great pain somewhere down the tunnel:
And the sons of Pullman porters
And the sons
Ride their fathers’ magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep
Are rockin’ to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all
Good God. His day was worsening by the second. Against better
instincts he started walking toward the noise, apologizing to Arlo
Guthrie for what he’d find.
Rounding a bend in the tunnel, he saw a upper-middle-aged man in a
worn herringbone sport coat seated on a concrete step, picking at the
guitar.
“You know, if you don’t practice, it plays hell on your fingers to
start up,” the man said, focusing on his strings and not looking
Ryan’s way. “Kind sir,” the man finally looked up at Ryan, “I broke a
string – would you have five bucks so I can get a replacement?”
Ryan considered offering him a twenty to take up a different
instrument, but said “Where am I? Please tell me you’re a figment of
my imagination.”
“You have arrived at Nowhere. Don’t you think I’m real?”
Ryan just shook his head.
“Are you comin’ or are you going?”
“I take that train every day,” Ryan said. “I’ve never had this happen.”
“I gave up the smokes,” the man said, strumming absentmindedly, almost
pleasantly. “That’s what killed him, you know?”
Nowhere Station was humid this day, and the man was sweating
profusely. He slid his pick between a couple strings in the neck of
the guitar and reached for an accent of red color in his coat’s breast
pocket. Ryan considered offering him a clean handkerchief but quickly
recanted.
“He told me a lotta stuff beforehand though, and you know at the time
it always sounds good.”
Suprisingly Ryan saw that instead of the expected handkerchief, the
man had pulled out a clean and folded pair of red panties and was
ready to wipe his brow with them. The man caught the mistake and shook
his head. “I been doing that more, lately. Like to say it’s because I
gave up whiskey, but there’s a small chance it might also be age
related.”
He laughed and pulled muddied linen from some other crevice that Ryan
didn’t want to know about, wiped his brow and returned the
handkerchief. The man waved the red panties in the air, “I keep these
laundered. They have sentimental value for me.”
Ryan was transfixed by the panties, estimating that they didn’t really
appear to fit the man. The man asked “Ever been on the other side,
young fella?”
Ryan looked from the gyrating panties, directly into the man’s eyes.
Back to the panties. Back to the man’s eyes.
“I’m not sure who you are,” Ryan said slowly. “I don’t even know where
I’m at. I never thought I’d say this…but all I really want at this
point in the worst way is to see the gray walls of cubeland and the
world’s most boring financial spreadsheet on the dismal flat panel
display on my desk.”
“The other side,” the man continued. “You know what I mean? You don’t
always have to give, you know? You can also be a winner on the
receiving end.”
“After I met him on the train coming here and we parted company,
abruptly,” the man reflected, “I thought I’d turn good overnight. Just
like magic.” He laughed. “You know, old man meets young man. A taste
of some advice and then I’m a shark too.”
“Well, I started hanging out here more often, and I met a lot of good
people.” The old man looked at Ryan. “People like yourself that would
drop in for a bit, then leave for Somewhere Else Station.” He added,
“You won’t be staying long here either, my friend.”
Ryan nodded agreement on the first thing the man had said that made sense.
“I didn’t play the guitar so well then, but I always had a deck of
cards with me. So, when they came to the station, always a little out
of sorts, I’d be the Welcome Wagon, the Greeter, and somehow no matter
who it was, we always ended up playing a single hand of poker. For
some small wager.”
“Of course I still got the cards,” the man said, laying the panties
over his leg temporarily and pulling out a boxed deck from his sport
coat pocket, handing them to Ryan.
“I didn’t get good overnight, but I got passable, especially with more
practice. And more confident. I started winning more than I lost.
Anyway, one day a fine young woman dropped in. I remember her
distinctly ’cause she was wearing a bright red dress. Well, and ’cause
of the rest.” He laughed.
Ryan leaned forward, interested despite himself. “Red? You mean red
like the panties?”
That man nodded and continued, “She had short black hair and a lean
frame. Confused like the others, but it wasn’t gettin the best of her.
When I first saw her, she looked short, but then standing next to me,
nose to nose, she musta been at least five and a half, probably three
or four more than that. She was young, but she held herself up in
conversation.”
The man paused his story, scratching at his chin. “I don’t wanna say
bossy, ’cause it wasn’t that exactly. She did have a certain air about
her, though, that made it look like she was used to bein’ listened
to.’
“Anyway, like the others, I friendly-talked for awhile, then when it
felt good I suggested we do a quick, single game of five card draw. I
asked her, I said ‘You do know how to play five card draw, right?'”
“Well, she’d nodded and smiled and told me that where she was from
they played a lot of cards and that it sounded like fun.”
“And get this, my young friend,” the guitar man leaned in toward Ryan.
“She says to me: ‘I’m sure you’ll want to have some type of stakes
involved. I’m afraid I don’t carry much cash, but I do have an idea of
what we could play for.'”
“Well, then she nearly knocked my socks off with a proposition for the
winner. If I won, she said, she’d stand in front of me, and slowly
strip off the exquisite–that was her word, exquisite–silky red
panties she was wearing under her red dress. And that those panties
would be mine for all of time.”
“But get this,” the man continued. “She said the flip side of it was
that if she somehow got lucky and won, and she figured there wasn’t
much chance of that, that I’d have a sore bottom for a week,
guaranteed. Cause she’d take off her black shoe (‘This one right
here’) and bend me over the concrete we’re sitting on right now. Then
she’d lower my trousers and paddle my behind with the sole of that
shoe.”
The man asked Ryan, “Now does that sound like a wager or what?”
Listening to the story, Ryan wondered if guitar man was putting him
on. It was the strangest thing he’d ever heard of and if he ever got
out of Nowhere Station, the happy hour crowd was going to love this
one. Truth or not be damned.
“Honestly, I wanted those red panties bad. I wanted to watch her slide
them down her thighs and over those tight little calves. And to see
her lift each high heel, one at a time, to step out. I wanted to see
how that beautiful red dress clung to her tight bottom as she bent
over to pick up the panties and hand them to me.”
The man reached in his sport coat, retrieved the handkerchief, and
wiped his brow again.
“I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. You’re thinking that
this proves that every so often the good guys do win and that life
does have a few happy stories.”
“Well I let her deal, and it sure started right. I was anything but
out of aces – in fact, she’d dealt me not two of them, but three. And
all that before the draw.”
“Well, of course we weren’t playing draw the way it’s normally done,
with an opportunity to add to the pot, bluff, and so on. And I don’t
know why I did it, but when I saw the three of a kind, I leaned over
to her and said, ‘I much would like to see those panties, but if you
want to fold now, we’ll call it off and forget we ever started this
game.'”
Ryan saw humor flare in the man’s eyes as he continued. “Well,” he
said, “she wanted nothing to do with that. She was going to start what
needed to be finished, and she wanted just one card.”
“To make a long story short, when we flipped ’em I still had those
beautiful three aces, but she had something better. She had a lot of
hearts. Lots and lots of them. Enough that it made my stomach churn.”
“I’ve thought about it since. She wasn’t much surprised about the
outcome, but she did mention how those hearts almost matched her
dress, and the panties that I couldn’t see. But then she said that
what the cards were going to match most would be my red hot bottom
when was done spanking me.”
The man stopped for a bit, cocking an eye at Ryan. “I’ve always kept
my word. And I did so on that day as well. She spanked hard and fast
and I squirmed like a little boy. And the shoes off those dainty
little feet put a lot of hurt in my backside. The only thing she
really said as she paddled me was ‘I’ve done a little bit of this
too.'”
“Well, my friend, the story does have a happier ending.”
Ryan noticed that train tracks below were starting to vibrate, only
slightly now, but the man noticed as well. He nodded at Ryan.
“Happy, just like your story’s gonna end. Anyway, when she was done,
she gave me one last hard smack on the behind, this time with her
hand, which hurt nearly as bad as the shoe, and then she almost had to
scrape me out of a ball. My eyes were running. True to her word, I
couldn’t sit comfortable for a long time. But what she did, as I knelt
there looking at her, she slid out of those silky red panties in the
most graceful way, she lifted them up in front of my eyes, then she
slid them into my pocket as slick as all get out. And I’ve had ’em
ever since.” The man smiled and nodded at Ryan.
The tracks were rattling noticeably and Ryan saw an opportunity. “I’m
late for work,” he told the man, rising to his feet and starting back
where he had departed the train.
As he turned back over his shoulder and yelled “Thanks, but I don’t
believe you!” Ryan heard the terrible guitar burst back into action
and somewhere among the screeching he picked up a few of the words:
…
if you’re gonna play the game, boy, you gotta learn to play it right.
You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
before the rest was lost in the roar of the approaching train.
This week finds me revisiting Pittsburgh and Richmond, and making my first trips to Washington D.C. and Raleigh, North Carolina – Tuesday through Saturday, September 25-29th, 2012.
Disciplinary consideration in these cities is limited. Please read the Appointments page before emailing:
danakanespanks@gmail.com.
Angel has come to me, asking for help with some real-life issues. We spend several minutes discussing her spending behavior, then she timidly goes over my knee for a five minute, bare-bottom hand spanking.
There are two versions of this series available, a short version and an extended version. Each contains the same spanking scene, with the exteded version containing the complete twenty-plus minute dialogue; the short version features an edited dialogue.
For more photos and descriptions, click on the title link above.
I had only a short time to spend with this wonderful group of people – a few hours on Saturday night – but am so grateful that I was able to attend. From the minute I walked in, Chicago’s Crimson Moon family welcomed me warmly and made me feel right at home at my first large gathering of spanking enthusiasts.
Yoni and Mike were both friendly, funny, and obviously dedicated to their members and friends. Each gave a heartfelt speech to the assembled spankos at dinnertime, and it was obvious that the love in the room was 100% real.
I met many of the people with whom I’ve corresponded online, both through email and social networking sites like FetLife. It was cool (and a bit overwhelming) to finally shake hands with so many online friends.
While my visit was short, I did manage to get in a bit of spanking, and boy, was it worth it! The absolutely lovely and hilarious Sarah Gregory was kind enough to ask me to give her a spanking, so I giddily pulled her over my knee for a nice little bare-hand swatting. Sarah is just as sweet and friendly as I knew she would be, and I was tickled to have the opportunity to play with her.
During the first annual Miss OTK USA pageant, I assisted my stellar friend Alex Reynolds for the talent portion, by giving her a short hairbrush spanking while she managed to be painfully cute in her schoolgirl outfit. (I also ended up lending my hairbrush to Yoni for a couple minutes’ use on a pretty lady’s bottom.)
I cannot say enough about this group of people, and am so happy to have had the opportunity to join them in celebrating this thing we do so joyfully.
– Dana
Readers,
The Person, Place, and Thing spanking story contest for August is:
The winner will receive a free spanking session with me in any of the cities which I visit, or in my home city of Las Vegas. If you do not reside in an area that makes it convenient to receive the prize, please enter as a non-contestant so that the winner may actually collect the prize.
I will be making another visit to my friends and playmates in Seattle and Vancouver on Wednesday through Friday, September 19-21, 2012.
For disciplinary consideration, please read the Appointments page before emailing:
danakanespanks@gmail.com.
A late entry to the Brief Encounter story contest, ‘Antwerp Central’ is still certainly worth sharing..
This entry to the Brief Encounter story writing contest is beautifully set, and I particularly enjoyed the subject matter. Have fun with ‘At Stazione Santa Maria Novella’.
The Brief Encounter spanking story contest inspired some very talented writers, and I am happy to share those inspirations with others who enjoy reading original spanking stories written by real spankos. This entry is impressive in it’s detail and language, and I’m sure you’ll have a great time reading.
– Dana
Readers,
This great F/F spanking story was emailed to me by a new correspondent this week, and I’ve gotten her permission to share it here. She’s written a fine little spanking fantasy, and I thought you’d like it, too. Enjoy!
– Dana
I will be re-visiting Denver and St. Louis, and making my first trip to Cleveland, Wednesday through Saturday, September 5-8th.
Disciplinary consideration in these cities is very limited.
danakanespanks@gmail.com
‘An Officer’s Story’ is yet another example of the wonderful imaginations of our fellow spanking enthusiasts. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I have! (Brief Encounter story writing contest entry.)
– Dana
As a Commander in the Navy I have the usual pleasure to meet and greet the new officers in my command. Today I am standing on the train platform waiting for the 4:40 to arrive from San Francisco. I wander from end to end, wondering just what this new nurse is going to be like. She seems pretty competent, from her last fitness report, and the only disconcerting comment was she was some what unconventional in a military sense. I am not quite sure what that meant, but I have run into all sorts in my military career and certainly know how to handle a defiant nurse.
“That’s better. Now do you want to explain your actions? You’re a nurse and an officer for christsakes. You’re suppose to be setting an example, and you act like a fricking hipster or something. That is completely unacceptable here. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?
“That’s no excuse around here and we’re going to make sure you learn this right here and now!. Maybe I can’t have you flogged, but I certainly can do the next best thing.” “Get over here, and that’s an order.
Sitting on the corner of the sofa, I grabbed her arm and drag her across my knee.
“Please sir, you can’t do this…” “Oh, yes I can; and besides that, who are you going to tell, your superior officer?…Oh, wait, that’s me”!
I smoothed the startchy material of her pure white dress uniform and start giving her good hard spanks on the back of her dress. In moments her white-stocking clad legs start kicking like a little girl.
“Stop that” I command. “Yes, sir, but your hurting me.” I’ll do more than that if you don’t keep your legs still.” As I continue the spanking with hard,
slapping slaps. Then it stops.
“I am not sure I’m getting though to you Lieutentant, this certainly doesn’t seem to be making the kind of impression I wish to make on you.
“Are these standard issue, Lieutenant?” I say snapping the waist band several times. “No, sir.” “NO, Sir? Is that all you can say”? “I should make you change right now, but that can wait for a bit. I’m sure your ass won’t know the difference in a few minutes anyway.”
I start spanking her well-rounded and very shapely bottom again. Up, down, upper thighs, hard stinging swats. “Quit moving.” I stop only long enough to yank these panties down and then keep on spanking until her bottom is red, red and red hot. Then I stop. “
OK, lieutenant, get up and I want you to stand right here,” I say pointing to the same place on the deck. “Right here, and keep that dress up so I can see that red bottom of yours; It does match those red panties quite a bit. Now, I am going out for a few minutes. When I get back you’d better have your standard issue panties and stockings on and standing exactly right here; And, you will bring those red panties with you, and then then we’ll finish your punishment.”“But, sir, you can’t…” “I told you what you can do with that. Now keep your mouth shut, unless you want to go on report also. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR, LIEUTENANT? GOOD.”
After I leave, she sheepishly moved to the bedroom to remove the lacy red panties and put on the standard white ones, also removing the garter belt and pulling on the white pantyhose stocking wondering just what happened and what is going to happen. Her bottom is red, throbbing and so hot and tears were swelling up in her eyes. “What a bastard” she thought, I really never thought he’s actually spank me and so hard…boy, damn, my bottom hurts!”
“I can’t believe this is happening. I know I probably deserved this, but I cannot believe it! Turned over his knee and spanked like a little bratty girl. Here I am a Lieutenant in the Navy…an officer and to have a superior treat me like this is, is, well, maybe not so bad. Beside that, I guess I did deserved it.”
Before the door is completely open, you hear the order to about face. You dutifully turn so you back is to the door. You hear the door close behind you.
“I had one hell of a time trying to find this switch, around here, but I think it will do the job.”
“Sir, you can’t be serious. You can’t whip me with that.”
“Lieutenant, I think we’re already past what I can and can’t do. Now, put those
red panties you have in your right hand, down on this end of the sofa and then I want you to bend over this end. I want you to be looking at those panties and remember they are at least half the cause of this punishment, your attitude the other.”“Not fast enough,” you’re told, and then hear a very audible swish, and then feel a deep burning sensation on your calf’s.
“Ouch, my God that hurts.”“Well then get moving. There is a much better place to use this supple switch on,” as another stroke finds its spot just above the last one.
“Ow. I hurrying”! she assert as she tosses the red panties on the sofa and slowly moves to the other end. She glances over to him, avoiding eye contact, but fixated with the slender switch he is flexing in his hands and tapping on his pant leg. She stares at the end of the sofa and places her hands on the couch and then stops short of actually bending over.
“We’re almost done, Lieutenant. I think I finally getting through to you and next time you’ll remember to act like an lady and an officer. Now hold still
for the remainder of your punishment.”
Again the switch starts cutting stripes on your bottom. Another 15 or 20 searing strokes, but you’ve lost count.
“OK, Lieutenant, rub your bottom if you wish. I think I’ve got my message across” he said as he tosses the well-worn and frayed switch in front of her on the sofa.
“Yes, sir, you certainly have,” she says still gasping for breath. You reach back and lightly caress your very tender bottom with the red panties.
“Now, pull yourself together and meet me at the bar in the Officers Club in 30 minutes and I’ll buy you a drink and we can talk about military justice.” With that and not a word more her commanding officer calmly walks out the door.
Your bottom is stripped like a barber pole. You eyes are still tearing and your hair is a mess.
You make your way to the bathroom and wash your face and place a cold damp hand cloth on your bottom. Ah,
at least some relief! You very carefully pull up your stockings and panties trying not to let them touch your skin, and
let your slip and dress down. You fix your make-up, brush your hair and make yourself presentable. You make your way to the front room and sit, albeit very gingerly, on the corner of the sofa thinking about what just happened. Laying on the sofa is that wicked slender little switch that just layed into your bottom along with your red panties..
