Like a shot. I have been murder. Your poison. Open me up. My angels died. They jumped. I will not wait for the world to wake up. I will resolve and choke this out. I will not be confused anymore. You keep digging. I will not stop. Guilty can take the shot. I will resolve the illusions. I will cut, so you keep digging. Do not stop! Train wreck. I am not afraid of you using me. You always move that way. Keep on digging. It feels like the world has grown dark anyways. Leaving the grave as though I do not care. I cannot bring back the emotions taken. You reach out, and I do not come. It feels like darkness.
Face the real you, somehow you will need to learn to bend. See clearly. All the times I step aside. You never listened. All the time you watched from the outside, and did not know what was wrong from right. You are like hell inside me; I will leave the past behind me. I accept whom I become, you never seen clearly. You stepped aside. Watched and never listened. One-day darkness will surround you and you still will not listen. Never understood, never apologized.
My Daughter’s Best Friend
I became a single father early in our marriage. Her mother died from complications with breast cancer. I was heart broken to say the least and I was even more scared dealing with the idea of raising a teenage daughter. During those trying years, there were plenty of times that my police academy training left me ill prepared for the challenges that I faced at home.
My daughter Kayla grew into a beautiful young woman with dark black hair like her mother’s. Her skin was fair and her smile was bright and cheerful as she grinned. As her father, I couldn’t see her smile too often just because we argued all the time. Curfew, boys, her clothes were all fair game in our arguments. There were times I would have a plain clothes officer tail her when I knew I’d be home late. I knew she resented it, but I also knew she would make it home safely.
One of her partners in crime was this hot little thing named Sandra. Sandra was extremely well built for a nineteen year old. She had a slender set of legs that ended at a cute rounded ass. There were times I caught myself using her as my fantasy girl while I masturbated at night. I know Kayla caught me a few times when she would sneak into the house by my room and heard me moaning. I started locking my door afterwards and Kayla would sneak right by my door more and more.
After one of these nights, I was listening at the door and heard footsteps. Then I opened the door and was surprised to find Sandra sneaking in instead of Kayla. Sandra stood there like a deer caught in the headlights. I had a chance to glance at her outfit. The first thing I noticed was that she wore fishnet black stockings. Her dress was really short, so short one could see the top of her stockings. It was one of those one piece dresses that were mesh material, kind of like the type you put your dirty gym clothes in. I also noticed her hair was up in a ponytail. She was so fucking hot at that moment. I succumbed to my own weaknesses.
“Where is Kayla?” I yelled. She stood there shaking as she turned to me. As she turned, I saw her nipples through the mesh of her dress. I could see the areolas clearly. She started to sob in front of me as she looked down at the floor. The look was too much. I told her to come into my room. She walked over to my bed and sat down. As she sat, I noticed her dress rise a bit and show off her naked pussy. I caught a glimpse of how shaven it was. She was a fucking wet dream waiting to happen.
I looked into her eyes again and asked my question with a little more control. This time, she cleared her eyes a bit and looked into mine before telling me she didn’t know. She began to relate to me the deal they made a while ago that while my not so innocent Kayla went out on her conquests, Sandra would pretend to be her and sneak into her room where she would hide out until I fell asleep to allow Kayla to enter. I was in shock. I never expected my nineteen year old to be a total slut. Part of me wondered what her mother would have thought. Unfortunately, the part of me looking down on my hostage kept driving me to do something wrong. It was something that if done incorrectly would lead my ass to jail.
I allowed my hands to go to my sides as I calmly walked over to my uniform in the corner of the room and retrieved my handcuffs. Sandra looked at me in horror as I twirled them in my hand. It was then my Dom voice decided to surface. I hadn’t used it in years since before Kayla’s mother became my wife. As I neared my daughter’s accomplice, I could see her eyes scanning me up and down. I was wearing a bath robe over my boxers to hide the excitement I was feeling at that moment. As I edged closer, Sandra looked at me.
“You are not going to arrest me. I’m Kayla’s best friend,” she replied almost snottingly. I quietly went behind her and began to whisper in her ear how much of a bad girl she was to hide my daughter’s motives from me and how much of a slut she was dressed like. She blushed as I snapped one cuff on her left wrist. It was then the shock appeared on her face as I cuffed the right hand. I then reached behind her and unzipped the dress she was wearing before simply ripping it off of her so she was totally naked before me. She remained quiet as I surmised she would.
I then pushed her to the floor where she immediately landed on her knees. Excellent work I though to myself as I noticed a black nub protruding from her rectum. I asked her to tell me what was there. She looked down to the floor before revealing that she wore a butt plug. It was part of a bet my naughty daughter made with her earlier in the night before she returned to the house. I then moved to in front of her where I allowed my robe to drop and revealed my boxers scarcily concealing my erection before her face. Sandra’s face opened up as well as her mouth. I simply slid my boxers so that my erection was protruding out of the opening right where her open mouth was. I then took advantage and allowed my shaft to slide just within her mouth. She instinctively tried to suck before I unceremoniously pulled it back out and smacked the side of her cheek with it. I scolded her for not waiting before again sliding it back into her mouth where she held it just the way I wanted. The little slut was learning.
Slowly, I eased my cock deep inside her mouth until I could feel the back of her throat. I strived to be careful because I didn’t want to gag her. It turned out that Sandra was a fellatio scholar as I commanded her to suck and I felt her suction on the end of my cock. I stayed in that position for a while until I was basically fucking her throat while she knelt there handcuffed. It wasn’t long until I felt myself getting ready to climax. I allowed my cock to fall out of her mouth as I began to stroke it until I had my seed spraying over her face and tits. Sandra didn’t shy away from it, but opened her mouth to catch whatever she could in her mouth. She then asked permission to stand up.
I was so impressed with Sandra’s behavior that I started to use her as my new sub while my daughter went out whoring herself. Kayla was against me seeing her best friend so much, but her guilt over her behavior kept her in line. We spent the good part of a year taking care of each other. I would bind her with the ropes I had in my closet or cuff her hands and use her for my personal cum dumpster. She seemed to enjoy me taking over the way I did. Soon after, my daughter was knocked up by an anonymous suitor and it drove a wedge between Sandra and I for a while. It was a few months later that Sandra moved away so that she could pursue her graduate degree. She still on occasion comes by to visit to relive our past.
Over the past few years, polyamory has become a more widely known term and practice. And perhaps inevitably, certain misconceptions and misunderstandings about what “polyamory” means have become widespread as well. It would be unfortunately difficult to say which among these misunderstandings is the most common, or the most hurtful to polyamorous folks. But there’s one in particular that I’d like to discuss: the idea that “polyamory” means “committed couple who have casual partners on the side.”
There has been much talk about “open marriage” and “open relationships” in recent years, with some even paradoxically dubbing non-monogamy “the new monogamy.” In this open-marriage conception of non-monogamous relationships, there is still a central, committed (often legally married) couple, who allow one another to engage in purely sexual (or at least quite casual) outside relationships. Generally, any discussion about the benefits of such practice revolves around how it strengthens and/or reinvigorates the central couple in question. I want to be perfectly clear that I don’t see anything wrong with strictly sexual non-monogamy so long as it’s genuinely fulfilling and consensual for all involved, including the outside partners. But for those of us living in polyamorous families, it can be incredibly frustrating when people use those concepts of open marriage to make assumptions about the structure of our relationships.
Because we live in such a monogamy-centered society, it makes sense that many people can only conceive of non-monogamy in what ultimately still amounts to monogamous terms. There is a common misconception that a polyamorous relationship is really no different from an open-relationship agreement: one committed couple, with some lighthearted fun on the side. But the word “polyamory,” by definition, means loving more than one. Many of us have deeply committed relationships with more than one partner, with no hierarchy among them and no core “couple” at the heart of it all. To me, this notion that there must be one more important relationship, one true love, feels a lot like people looking at same-sex couples and thinking that one person must be the “man” in the relationship and the other must be the “woman.” After all, both of these misunderstandings result from people trying to graft their normative conceptions of love and relationships onto people who are partnering in non-normative ways. It seems that it is somewhat easy for many people to acknowledge that humans are capable of loving one person and still enjoying sex with others (assuming, of course, that the terms of their relationship make such behavior acceptable). But it is much harder for people to think outside the fairy-tale notion of “the one” and imagine that it might be possible to actually romantically love more than one person simultaneously.
The unfortunate result of this is that, for those of us in more than one serious and meaningful relationship, the world around us insists on viewing one of those relationships as less valid than the other, especially when one relationship happens to predate others. I have been with my husband for 17 years, legally married for 11. But I am also deeply in love with and committed to my boyfriend of two and a half years, and it hurts that people make assumptions about that relationship simply being something frivolous and recreational outside my marriage.
Another side effect of this misunderstanding is that people often wonder why we poly people need to talk openly about “what happens behind closed doors.” I have heard many times that there should be no reason to disclose one’s polyamorous relationships with parents, children, or the neighbors. That might seem logical if what we’re talking about is strictly extramarital sexual partners. But my life with my partners isn’t reducible to “what happens behind closed doors” any more than any serious, long-term relationship is. We share a home and a life; we are a family. Openly, publicly acknowledging my boyfriend as my partner is not just saying that we have sex. It’s saying that, like my husband, he is my partner in every sense of the word. He loves me and supports me and respects me. He sees me at my worst and still wants to spend his life with me anyway. It would be unimaginable to me to hide the nature of our relationship, to pretend that he is merely a friend or roommate, to not have him by my side at weddings and funerals and family holiday gatherings. But this is exactly what people are expecting of me when they ask why I feel the need to be so “open” about my “private business.”
Not all polyamorous people have multiple equally committed relationships, and many do designate a more central (typically live-in) relationship as “primary.” But my partners and I are hardly unusual among polyamorous folks. Many share homes in configurations like ours, or as committed triads or quads or complex networks of five or more. Many have deep and lasting relationships with no cohabitation at all. To project traditional conceptions of love and commitment onto these relationships, to view them only as a slight variation on monogamy, is to deny all of the many varied ways that polyamorous people form relationships and families.
If you have polyamorous friends, relatives, or acquaintances, please don’t make assumptions about their lives based on what you think all non-monogamous configurations look like. Let them tell you how they define their relationships. And if they identify multiple people as their partners, don’t try to read into who is more important than whom, imagining hierarchies even if you’re told there are none. Though it might not fit with how you conceptualize love, offer polyamorous relationships the same validation that you would offer any other. And remember what a common human thing it is to want to be able to tell the world — and not be told by the world — whom we love.
A Mistress who becomes a wife, leaves a vacancy. – Never forget that as hard as it is to swallow.
What would you do if suddenly the man you had been seeing, who is married decides to leave his wife? Would you run away or would you embrace it?
Lets talk about the reasons why it’s a bad idea…
A wise mistress is the best kind of mistress. One that can have fun and not get her heart broken.
When a relationship begins between a woman and a man who is married ground rules need to set, you need to make sure you are both on the same page. He may tell you he is unhappy with his marriage, that he is in the process of divorce but chances are he is only saying that to keep you around, to make you think you have some kind of “chance” with him. Don’t make the mistake of believing it, you will only get your heart broken in the end. There is only a 1% chance that would actually leave his wife anyway. If he truly wanted to be with you and only you he would be divorced, he wouldn’t still be hanging on to his wife
Being a mistress, you get to have all the fun, you get as much hot sex as you want, you feel sexy and wanted. You get dined and treated like a queen. He may even buy you expensive gifts and take you shopping or take you on expensive vacations during his “business trips.” These are all things that chances are his wife doesn’t experience. His marriage with his wife was probably at one point exciting, but over time all relationships deteriorate, it never lasts. Chances are while you are being wined and dined she is sitting at home cleaning poopy diapers and folding his underwear. What a life huh? She has to deal with him when he is in a bad mood, clean up after him, do his laundry, basically all of the unfun things a relationship entails. Your his escape from reality, your what he looks forward to in his life. Your his fantasy and that’s why he picked you. It’s like the perfect relationship. No responsibility and basically all fun and games.
Having an affair with a married man is not something that really anyone considers acceptable, it is important to keep the relationship essentially meaningless because people will look down on you and think of you as a whore and a home wrecker if the relationship goes beyond just an affair, even though it takes two to tango most people will look down on your more than him. As a mistress you are enabling him to cheat on his wife and people will hate you for that, and not only his wife.
At the beginning of an affair rules must be set and respected and if either person strays from those boundaries, the affair should be ended immediately. A mistress never expects commitment from her married man. That is not your place. If you want a boyfriend than go ahead and get one, you have no place destroying other people’s lives especially young children. When you choose a married man you want to pick one that will make you feel great, that makes you laugh and someone you have fun with and of course someone who is great in bed and makes you feel great. You do not want to pick a guy who will try and make you fall in love with him. Your time spent with him will be limited, he has a family that he will go back to and spend the majority of his time with especially if he has children. Jealousy will nearly kill you if you let yourself get attached to this guy and count the minutes till you get to see him again, or get upset that he doesn’t call you/contact you. He isn’t going to sometimes, you are #2 and that is something you need to accept if you want to be a mistress.
A mistress should always keep her own life busy, Try to keep from talking about your own life issues or long explanations about why you can’t meet him. The less he knows about your life without him the better. He is not a part of your reality, he is the fun that you sometimes get to have.
Every date you have with your married man should be like a first date. You should always look amazing, hair done nice, make-up, jewelery, clothing that compliments you and is sexy, sexy bra and panties, nice shoes. Your nails and toe nails should always be done nicely and you should always smell amazing. I also go tanning but that is up to you. Remember, if he wanted a girl who hangs out in granny panties, he’d go home to his wife, not hang out with you. Your job is to keep him wanting you, needing you. You will get a lot more out of your affair with your married man if you do this. Never allow yourself to be too comfortable with him. You should always have a good attitude, be funny, sweet, sexy, you should NEVER complain or whine about anything, that’s what your girlfriends are for and chances are his wife is doing plenty of nagging and the last thing you want to do is to start acting like her.
Keeping the affair discreet is extremely important. He needs to trust you and you will not be doing anything good for either of you by trying to bring the affair to light. Both him and his wife will hate you for it, not to mention chances are you will look like a whore to everyone you and him know. If you want to continue having a good time with him you have to be discreet. Never call him, wait till he calls you. If you see him in public, don’t even look at him. Never ever show up at his work or anywhere else in a public place unless it’s in a town far enough away from where he lives and even then there is a chance someone might spot you. You can never leave your guard down. The moment he is caught he will most likely try to work it out with his wife and leave you in the dust.
Here is some simple etiquette for mistresses-
1. If he tells you he loves you, he is lying. Remember, your with a man who lies to his wife ever day. He is a good liar.
2. You should be ready to give up all holidays. Those are reserved for his wife and kids. Prepare yourself to not even hear from him on valentines day, christmas, your birthday, any important holidays.
3. Don’t complain/put down his wife. It makes your look petty and it’s just not classy or sexy. He does not want to hear about his wife while he is with you.
4. DO NOT CALL HIM, WAIT FOR HIM TO CALL YOU!! This includes txting.
5. Don’t ask him for money, he will then feel like you need him and you don’t want him to think you need him. If he buys you nice gifts that is fine, they are just that gifts. You are not a prostitute, don’t expect money
6. Mistresses never complain, he gets enough of that from his wife and it’s a huge turn off
7. Always have more than one married man. If one leaves its easier to get over it when you still have someone else. It helps the heartache.
8. He should pay for everything in cash as to not leave evidence behind for his wife to find- remind him of this.
9. Never let him see you cry. You don’t want him to see you as a vulnerable person and he gets enough whiny tears from his wife. You are supposed to be making him happy not guilty.
10. If his wife starts getting suspicious, get out while you still can. Resist the urge to stay around, it’s only going to get ugly and you don’t want to be around for it.
11. Don’t think too much- Just enjoy the moments of happiness you have with him. Live for the moment while your with him, never think about him in the future because chances are he won’t be there in the future. Just cherish those moments you do have with him.
12. You never want to be #1, so don’t allow yourself to think one day he will be “your man.”
One should always be in love. That is the reason why one should never marry. – Oscar Wilde
Life has been so busy. Promise I am going to get more active on posting.
My summer will be full of Mustangs and Motorcycles..
Hopfully with some added BDSM fun. Mixing all three of them is always fun.
This is an infomercial for WeCare.com.
Hello, my name is Connie and I am the founder/owner of WeCare.com. I would like to take the next half hour to tell you all about my company. We specialize in providing babysitters and nannies for the care of your children. But first, I would like to tell you a little bit about myself. I am the oldest of four siblings. My parents were very strict and they encouraged me to be strict too. I often helped them with the family punishments. They were so proud of the way I handled my brothers and sisters that they would often discuss this with other parents who used spankings. This led to me babysitting a couple of kids in the neighborhood. Once the other parents around town saw how well behaved the children were, I was booked solid. All my time, except for school, was spent taking care of unruly brats who needed to be disciplined. After high school, I became a full time nanny. Moving from house to house. At twenty three I got married and later had two daughters. I still worked as a nanny, part time, but not as much. Fifteen years later I got divorced. I was a single mother with two daughters. I needed to find a source of income and the only thing I was good at was caring for children. So I started this company. It started with me calling up a couple of contacts that I had built up over the years. And it has grown from there. As you’ll see, I am very thorough in selecting my employees.
Connie walks into another room. It is plain except for two chairs and a desk. Sitting in one of the chairs is a twenty six year old woman. In one of the corners is an eleven year old girl. She is softly whining.
Shush child, I will have none of that. Mommy is working. The girl goes silent.
Connie walks over to the woman and the lady stands up to shake her hand. They both sit down on opposite sides of the desk. She starts to interview the woman.
Hello, Ms. March. I have read your application and I did a background check. Everything seems to be up to par, so far. As you have probably already seen, my waiting room is full of potential employees. It seems everybody wants to get a job here. My clients expect the strictest discipline for their children. I will need you to demonstrate your skills. One of my two darling daughters with help us out with this part.
Isn’t that right, sweety?
Now, don’t go easy on her if she starts crying right away. I’ve had two interviews already this morning and this one will be the last one before lunch break. Her behind might be a little sore, but I really need to see what you can do. And remember, I see at least six people a day, five days a week. So you really need to make an impression on me. Upon hearing that, the little girl starts to cry. For this part of the interview, Ms. March, the scenario will be that you just found one of my client’s daughters playing with matches. You have put her in the corner to await punishment. GO.
The woman stands up and walks over to the little girl. You have been very naughty, she says. She puts her hand on the girls shoulder and gives her five whacks to the seat of her pants.
Do you know how dangerous that is? You could have burned down the house.
She gives her five more whacks. The girl winces every time her butt is struck. She doesn’t say anything, just whimpers. The woman grabs her under her shoulder and pulls her over to the chair. She sits down and flattens out her skirt.
You are in for one hell of a spanking, miss. By the time I am done with you, it is going to feel like I lit a fire under your ass with those matches.
Connie’s daughter starts to loudly sob at this point. Ms. March unbuttons her jeans and pulls them down. She turns the girl around so she can get a good look at her bottom as she pulls her panties down. She grabs the waistband and pushes them down to meet her jeans. Kelly’s butt is still glowing from the earlier spankings. The lady tells her to bend over and get comfortable, you are going to be here for a while. She raises her hand as high as it will go and slams it down on her left cheek. She does the same thing to the right one. Over and over she repeats this process. The little girl instantly screams and doesn’t stop until she hears the lady speak.
You are never to play with fire. Do you hear me? You are going to be one sorry little girl when I’m done with you. Your little behind is the only thing that’s going to be burning up in this house. If I ever catch you playing with matches again I am going to make you fetch your father’s belt and use it, after I blister your butt.
Kelly’s behind was turning a dark red. Ms. March was looking for any pale spots to spank. Once she covered the girl’s entire bottom she looked up at Connie. She did not look impressed. Ms. March then reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a hairbrush. Connie smiled and nodded for her to continue. She raised the hairbrush the same way she had raised her hand and brought it down as hard as she could. The girl screamed even louder this time. The hairbrush left little oval marks all over her butt. After she covered every inch of the poor little girl’s sore cheeks, she did it again, just to be sure Connie would be pleased. The girl was a bawling mess. Exhausted, the woman dropped the hairbrush and looked over to Connie.
Excellent work, Ms. March. I think you have what it takes to work for me. I’ll give you a call.
Connie walks back to the first room she was in before.
I have any kind of babysitter you could want. From teen girls to older ladies. All have been approved by me. And if any of them ever makes a mistake in your home, well let’s just say they will never do it again. Misbehaving children are my specialty. From toddlers to teens. Do you need a live in nanny? I can help you out with that too. I have a wonderful mature woman straight from England. She’s a master with the cane. Whatever your needs are, I’m sure I have the right person for the job. Think it’s too late for spankings or your teen is too old? Let me introduce you to Mrs. Stout.
Connie walks in to another room. It is similar to the last one. A desk and two chairs. This time there is a tall, mean looking, heavy set woman in the room. In the corner is a sixteen year old girl, completely naked. You can see that she has recently been paddled.
I see you’ve started without me, Connie says.
This one just went bonkers when she saw me come in the room. I had to calm her down, answered Mrs. Stout.
Connie walks over to her oldest daughter and whispers in her ear.
When we get home tonight, what happened here is going to feel like a pleasant dream.
I’m looking forward to it mother, Carrie snickers.
Her mother walks behind the desk and sits down.
What we have here is an uncooperative teenager. This is Mrs. Stout’s specialty. Ma’am, would you please demonstrate how you would deal with such a problem.
The huge lady calls over to Carrie to come and bend over the desk. She doesn’t move. The lady asks again. Carrie says ‘No’. The woman walks over to her and grabs her by the back of the neck. She lifts her up and drags her over to the desk. The teen is barely on her tippy toes the whole way over. She pushes her head down to meet the desk and picks up a paddle. She swings it down hard, flattening out the girl’s cheeks. The paddle rains down over and over in the same spot. A red rectangle shaped mark can be seen across her behind. The girl hardly makes a sound. ‘You done yet’, Carrie asks. Mrs. Stout takes the paddle and puts it in between the teenagers legs. She starts tapping the inside of her thighs, A little harder each time, until the teens legs are spread out as far as they can go. The woman begins to paddle her again. Every blow pushes Carrie’s legs an inch closer to the desk. She hits the same spot every time. Two, small, beet colored bruises start to appear on each cheek. Little gasps come out of the teen with every whack. Mrs. Stout stops when the front of the girl’s legs touch the desk. Carrie is heaving like she had the wind knocked out of her. When she catches her breath she says, sarcastically,’ Thank you ma’am, may I have another’.
Connie looks up from the desk and begins to talk. Normally this would be enough for any child. But those of you with teenagers, who just won’t give up control, know what I am talking about .More is needed and Mrs. Stout is only half way done.
Mrs. Stout puts the paddle down and walks behind Carrie. She puts her hands on the girl’s hips and picks her up. She sits down on the chair and tilts the girl’s body forward. The teen’s hands go down to the floor and her legs rest on the woman’s lap, separated by her body. She is in the wheelbarrow position. The lady raises both her hands sideways and brings one, then the other, down on the outsides of the left and right sides of Carrie’s cheeks. She has the hands of a brick mason. The skin on her palms is thick and hard. Each cheek wobbles from left to right with every smack. When she is satisfied, she puts her hands out straight and starts to spank her at the top of her bottom where it reaches her back. This brings out real ‘Ooos’ and ‘ouches’ from the teenager. After this humiliating experience, Mrs. Stout picks the girl up and sets her on her feet. She tells her to place her hands on the desk and bend over. Carrie is very compliant at this point. The woman picks up a thin leather strap. It’s about two feet long but only three inches wide.
Connie speaks. This is Mrs. Stout’s implement of choice for rebellious teenagers. Trust me, your teen will never forget it.
And with that, Carrie starts to cry. Mrs. Stout takes a step back and swings the strap. Just as the tip is about to strike, she flicks her wrist. A loud SNAP echoes around the room, followed by a loud yelp.
Connie speaks again. This feels like taking a rubber band and putting it around your wrist. Pulling it back as far as you can and letting go. Except ten times worse. Please continue, Ma’am.
Mrs. Stout tells Carrie that she wants her to tell her ‘No’ after each hit for not coming out of the corner when called. The lady proceeds to paint little quarter sized marks, like the ones from the paddle, all across the girls bum. Strike after strike you hear SNAP YELP NO. Finally, Carrie is crying like a well spanked little girl. She grabs her butt cheeks and falls to the floor. She starts to murmur, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Connie and Mrs. Stout smile at each other. She stands up and leaves the room.
I have a 100% success rate with all of my customers. I offer a money back guarantee if your child is not well behaved by the time you get home. Please, give us a call or visit my website for more details.
Here at WeCare.com – We Care about your children.
The Griffen family is preparing for their annual trip to the mall to see Santa Claus. The children are in the kitchen writing their lists to show Santa. Timmy looks over at his younger sister. She is kneeling on the chair, her little tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, concentrating hard on her list. She looks up and asks him if he knows how to spell ‘roller skates’. He tells her how it’s spelled and she writes it down with her green crayon. Timmy looks back down at his own list and sighs. It’s a long one this year. Their mother comes in and announces that it is time to go. Yay, Suzy yells enthusiastically. Timmy does not feel the same way. He puts his head down and follows everybody out the door.
On the way to the mall, Suzy is talking a mile a minute. She is really excited to see Santa. She can’t wait to show him her list. Timmy hasn’t said a word since they left the house. His mother asks him what is wrong. She wants to know why he is being so quiet. He tells her that he wrote a lot of things down and he was worried about what Santa was going to say about his list. She tells him that it’s too late for that now and don’t worry about it, Santa is going to give him everything he deserves. Timmy slumps back in his seat and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He tells his mom that it just isn’t fair.
The whole family walks to the center of the mall. It is very festive with decorations every where. There are two lines of children. The father takes Suzy’s hand and gets in the right line The mother grabs Timmy’s hand and gets in the line to the left. There is a definitely a difference in attitudes between the two sides. Suzy’s line is filled with kids jumping up and down, chatting away. Timmy’s row is more somber. The boys and girls are all staring at the floor. Some are even crying. Timmy hears some loud smacks coming from the front of the line. He peeks his head out to take a look. He sees a little girl over Santa’s lap. Her skirt is pulled up and she is getting spanked on her panties. The little girl starts to holler. He looks over at the end of the other line and sees a boy sitting on Santa’a lap, smiling. Timmy pulls his head back in line and looks at his list again. There are twenty different things on it. He is getting anxious now. He pulls on his mother’s hand to try and get out of line. He asks her if they can come back another time. She tells him no. He tries to get loose from his mom and run away. She holds him tight. His mom tells him to behave or she’ll add another thing to his list. He calms down. Timmy does not want his list to reach twenty one.
Fifteen minutes later, Timmy takes another look. This time it’s a little boy over Santa’s lap. He is getting spanked over his clothes. Timmy thinks the boy is lucky. He must have a short list. Five items or less and you get spanked over your clothes. Six to ten and it’s on your underwear. Eleven to fifteen and you get it bare bottom in front of everybody. If you have sixteen to twenty things on your list, you get your naked behind smacked with the hairbrush. Twenty one and up and it’s Santa’s special little paddle with ‘Randy the Red Butt Reindeer’ on it.
Another fifteen minutes and Timmy is nearing the front of the line. The slaps and crying are getting louder now. He peeks again and sees that it is another girl. Her pants and panties are down around her ankles. Santa is spanking her bare bottom with the hairbrush. Every time he lands a blow, she howls out in pain. Her butt is redder than his over-sized suit. She is begging and pleading that she will be a good girl next year. Santa pays her no mind and keeps on walloping her. Timmy shutters at the sight he is witnessing. Soon it will be his turn. He looks over to the line with his sister in it and sees that she is happily singing along with the Christmas music that’s playing through out the mall. He wishes he was in that line.
When Timmy is next in line, he looks in between the two Santas. Standing there are some of the kids who went before him. They are standing with their backs to everybody and their hands on their heads. The children have to remain in the same state that they were spanked in. There’s a girl and a boy, the way they came to the mall, fully clothed. Next to them is the girl who got the hairbrush. She can hardly stand still. Her behind is beet red and he can almost see it throbbing. She is still crying. To her left is a small boy. His pants are down and he’s wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles underwear. He turns his head around to see if anybody is looking. When he sees that everybody is, he blushes and quickly turns his head back around. The last person looks like a teenage girl to Timmy. Her skirt is on the floor and her panties are on full display for the whole mall to see. She has on red and green holiday underwear with the words ‘Tis The Season’ written across her buns. The kids are made to stand there for the benefit of the children in the ‘Nice’ line. That way all the good kids can see what would happen to them if they were to be naughty next year.
It’s Timmy’s turn now. He looks over to the other side and sees his sister climbing onto Santa’s lap. He hands his list to his Santa. The jolly looking man reads it over and says ‘you’ve been very naughty this year’. Then he adds ‘looks like you’ll be getting it bare bottom with the hairbrush’. Timmy’s mother is already unbuttoning his pants. She pulls them down and then grabs the waistband of his underwear. She pulls them down to meet his pants. She picks him up and places him over Santa’s lap. A short lady dressed as an elf comes over and hands him the hairbrush. She whispers in Timmy’s ear ‘naughty, naughty, naughty’. The white bearded man raises the brush and whacks it down with full force. He is very good at what he does. He has had a lot of practice over the past few weeks. Ten hours a day, seven days a week. He really loves his job. The pain is instantaneous for Timmy. Every blow hurts more than the last one. It doesn’t take long before Timmy is hooting and hollering. Santa spanks him in the middle of the left cheek. Then the right. Next he spanks in circles around the first strikes, alternating between the two cheeks. Then he makes a bigger circle around what he has already done. On and on till Timmy’s behind is glowing red. As one particularly hard smack lands, it forces Timmy to raise his head. Through his tear filled vision, he sees his sister stick her tongue out at him and then she smiles. Because he is so full of emotion right now, he carelessly yells out ‘I hate you, Suzy’. Santa stops spanking him. It feels like the whole world has stopped. Until his mother speaks up. What did you just say, his mother asks. She scolds him about how he should love his sister and tells Santa that she thinks that she is going to add another item to his list. That means his list of wrong doings has reached twenty one. Timmy realizes this and screams in horror. He begs and pleads to be forgiven. His mother is unsympathetic and calls for the paddle. The female elf from earlier delivers it quickly to the man in red and white. Santa shows the paddle to Timmy. It is slightly bigger than a ping-pong paddle On the front is the first half of a reindeer, crying his eyes out. On the other side is the back half, with a very bruised bottom. Timmy’s fears grow. He wails in anticipation. Santa doesn’t keep him waiting for long. A loud splat is heard echoing around the mall. Another and another. Kids in line start to cry from what they are seeing. Santa does not hold back. He spanks Timmy until there is a puddle of snot and tears on the floor under his head. The little boy is all cried out. The only thing he is doing now is gasping for air. He comes back to life when his mother picks him up off of Santa’s lap. She takes out some tissues from her purse and wipes his face. She puts her hands on his shoulders and guides him over to were the other spanked kids are standing. His mother takes his hands and places them on his head. As she walks away he hears a lot of ‘wows’ and ‘oh my gosh’ from the crowd. He even hears one lady tell her daughter ‘you see that, that’s what your little butt’s gonna look like soon’. The little bit of numbness that comes from a spanking like this starts to fade and Timmy is beginning to feel the fire on is rear end again.
He hears his sister’s voice. She’s telling her Santa that she really, really wants some roller skates for Christmas. She thanks Santa and climbs down from his lap. As she walks by her brother she says ‘nah nah’. Right at that moment her father grabs her hand and tells her to stop teasing her brother. He then walks her over to the ‘Naughty’ line. He tells his wife to go do some shopping because they are probably going to be a while. He tells Suzy that they are going to make a new list. She starts to whimper. Timmy looks back to see were his parents are. He sees his father and sister standing in the spanking line. He turns back around and smiles. He knows his sister is going to be spanked It’s the only thing he wants for Christmas.
My Sister’s Friend
My sister had a best friend named Alexis. She was my first real crush. She had a very cute face but what I remember the most about her was her cute little behind.
All the kids in my neighborhood use to go to a place we called The Falls. It was a waterfall in the woods near my house. We would go there to swim and play in the water. I’ll never forget the day I went there and saw my sister and her friend playing in their bathing suits. Up till this point I kinda liked her, but never paid any attention to her. When I saw her beautiful butt in that blue, flower print, one piece, I became obsessed with her. I stopped hanging out with my friends and would come home right after school. Hoping my sister and Alexis would be there. I became more interested in what my sister was doing. Which was a change because she use to follow me around. This was right around the time I started to spank my sister. I started to wonder what it would be like to spank my sister’s friend. In my head it was different than the spankings I gave Mindy. When I pictured myself spanking Alexis, it was always playful. She could do no wrong in my eyes. When she was around I would flirt with her and she would flirt back. But I always got real nervous after awhile and left. This was the first girl that I ever felt shy in front of. I really started to like her. All of her, inside and out. She was cute and kind.
One day, my sister asked her to sleepover. When I found out, I called one of my friends over to hang out. I needed somebody to keep my sister busy. When it was just the three of us, I always felt a little odd. Whenever me and Alexis would talk, my sister would always jump in to the conversation. I don’t blame her, after all, it was her best friend. I just wished we could have more time together. Later that night, after my mother went to work, I put my plan into action. All I really wanted to do was find a way I could playfully slap her butt. Alexis and my sister had changed into their sleeping clothes. She was wearing a long white tee shirt. I remember every time she walked in front of me I could see the outline of her underwear. I could also barely see the color of her panties, too. I started to flirt with her and she flirted back. So then I started to tickle her and she giggled. She was very ticklish and would slap me lightly on my hands. I would slap her hands lightly back. This started a playful slap fight. I took a chance and slapped her behind. She didn’t mind, so every couple slaps I would go back to her butt. I started to tickle her again and she got up to run. I chased her in to my room and we fell on my bed. We continued to tickle and slap each other until we were exhausted. She was laying on my lap, looking up at me. We just stared in to each others eyes for awhile. I started to think about spanking her again. My bed was next to the wall. I was leaning up against it with my back and my legs were straight out in front of me. I put my hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her around. She didn’t resist. In fact, she scooted up so her butt was right over my lap. I placed my hand on her tee shirt that was covering her behind. I was really nervous. This was the first time I was touching the ass of somebody that I liked. Alexis didn’t say anything but she did lift her butt up and down when I touched it. I picked my hand up and spanked her lightly. I looked over at her head. She was just laying there with her arms folded under her chin. I spanked her again. I felt such a rush. This was way different than my sister’s spankings. I was getting a little excited. I kept going, taking my time. I threw in a couple hard ones to see how she would react. Every once in awhile I would hear a low moan. I started to pull her tee shirt up, but she reached back to stop me. I guess that was enough for now. I turned her over and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed me back. She was the first girl I kissed that I was actually in love with. We kissed a little more and went to sleep. She slept in my bed that night. All we did was spoon. I remember the heat coming off her behind against my body. I was a little embarrassed because it made me kinda excited. But she didn’t seem to mind.
This started one of my greatest relationships ever. Wherever you are ‘Alexis’, I still love you.
F/f hand hairbrush
“Amy, your father and I are leaving for the Friday night auction. Come say goodbye.”
“Yes Di…an…, I mean, mother.” she yells from the kitchen.
She scurries towards us standing at the front door. She’s wearing name brand jeans and a designer top that I bought for her. Before she met me she hardly had any clothes at all. I see the look of fright on her face. She knows better than to call me Diane. Three and a half years I’ve been dealing with this little brat.
“I heard what you said. We have talked about that many times. I thought you would have learned by now.”
The look of terror and sadness on her face is priceless. I’ll let her feel that for awhile. I have somewhere to go, anyway.
“We’ll be back in a couple of hours. You know the rules. We expect you to behave.”
A look of relief comes across her face.
“Yes mom, I will. Thank you.”
She always tries to thank me when I don’t spank her. She should be thanking me for spanking her. After Amy gives us a hug and a kiss, we walk out the door.
“Hold on honey, I forgot something,” I tell my husband.
I walk back in the house and Amy peeks around the corner. The smile on her lips turns into a frown. I walk upstairs to her bedroom. There are three huge wardrobe closets that I bought for her. They are full of outfits that we have purchased together. Right now, I am only interested in two of the closets. I walk over to one of them and open the door. What kind of outfit do I want? Let’s see. Amy forgot to call me mommy. She’s my little girl. Alright, I see something that will do the job. I pull out a cute little dress. It’s pink with big white polka dots on it. It has a fabric belt around the waist that ties into a bow in the front. It’s sleeveless and has a V-neck neckline. I place it on the bed then walk over to her dresser. I open the sock and underwear draw. I grab a pair of short socks that have pink ruffles on the tops of them. They match the dress perfectly. I pick up two different packs of cartoonish underwear for girls ages 6 to 8. Pretty Princesses or Tinker Fairies? I see a light pink pair in the fairy package and take them out. I hold them up and there is a little fairy on the front and a bigger one on the back. Amy is going to look so cute in these. I place the panties at the bottom of the dress on the bed and put the socks under that. I take a look at the outfit and remember when we bought it.
O.k., I’ll admit it. I’m a shopaholic. I just love to buy things. Especially clothes. It happened about five years ago when I started my own business. I sell upscale handbags on the web. And I make a fortune doing it. I met my husband and Amy when she was twelve years old. She was so out of control back then. Her father was depressed from the divorce and didn’t care what she did. I had to start spanking her before we even got married. She was very defiant back in those days. She hated me, probably still does. I would spank her and spank her and she would still have an attitude. No matter how many times I would redden her butt, she would still get into trouble. I almost gave up on her. The only time we bonded is when I took her shopping. She loves to go shopping. Well, half the time anyway.
One day, when Amy was thirteen, I took her shopping at a big clothing store. She was looking at these shirts that I thought were way too inappropriate for girls her age. They had all these raunchy sayings on them. I looked across the aisle and saw some very pretty dresses. I suggested we should take a look at them. She said ‘No, those are for babies’ real snotty. I told her to mind her manners or she would be in for a firey bottom when we got home. She didn’t seem to care and went on talking.
“I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a teenager now. I’ll wear what I want.”
“Nonsense girl, I’m the one who buys your clothes so I’m the one who decides what you wear.”
I grabbed her hand and started for the other side of the aisle. She tried to resist. I pulled her along with me until we got there. She was putting up such a fuss. She really hated those pretty dresses. That’s when I got an incredible idea.
“You really don’t like these clothes, do you?”
“No, everybody at school will laugh at me.”
“That’s going to be the least of your problems from now on. I think we are going to find a beautiful dress and some brand spankin’ new panties and see how you look in them. Ahh, what a cute little girl you are going to be.”
“No, please don’t make me do that. I’ll be good.”
“Too late for that now. And after you change into your new clothes I am going to spank you like I’ve never spanked you before.”
Amy started to stomp her feet like a child. I reached over her and slapped her on the butt.
“You want me to do this right here and now, in this store. I’ll have you change and come back out here. Then I’ll bend you over so everybody can see your little panty clad behind. Oh. and the noise. First the sounds made by my hands spanking your disobedient ass and then the cries that will follow. You’ll draw a wonderful crowd in no time. Is that what you want?”
“No, mama, no!! Please don’t do that.”
“Well then, I suggest you help me pick out one of these pretty, pretty dresses.”
After picking the dress, we headed over to the underwear section. Amy did not look happy. I held up various packages and put into a pile all the ones she shook her head no to. When there were five packs I handed them to her.
“Mom, these are the ones I didn’t want. I don’t want to wear little kids underwear”
“I know. That’s why I am buying them. You are going to be changing your clothes before I spank you from now on. If you don’t want to wear them, then don’t misbehave.”
Amy looked really sad. I could tell that this was going to work. Next we went over to the beauty department. I found a hair band with a small bow on it. It was pink and covered with small white dots. It will go good with the dress. Lastly, I went to the aisle with the hair products.
“Amy, help me pick out your new hairbrush.”
“But I already have some hairbrushes.”
“Those are all made of plastic. We need a strong wooden one.”
She looked at me puzzled. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a brush that was colored red. I went over and picked it up. It was painted to look like a ladybug from the back. I showed it to Amy.
“How ’bout this one.”
She liked it. We headed to the register to pay and go home. At home I told Amy to go change and meet me in the living room in fifteen minutes. She put her head down and walked up the stairs. I sat down on the couch. I started to think about all the new possibilities. I could take her shopping for embarrassing outfits every time I was going to spank her. Yes, what an excellent excuse to go shopping. Maybe different outfits for certain misbehaviors. I was getting excited just thinking about it.
Just then, Amy came walking down the stairs. She looked just like an eight year old girl. She was very unhappy. She looked like she wanted to cry. She dragged her feet and stood in front of me. I reached up with both my hands and pinched her cheeks.
“You are such a cutie. I just want to eat you up.” I joked.
I could tell that this was very humiliating for her. Good. If this is what works, so be it.
“Lift up your dress so I can see those pretty little panties.”
“Mom, this is so uncomfortable. Do I really have to do this?”
“Yes. And when you are dressed like this you will call me mommy. When you are dressed like a little girl you will act like a little girl. Now pull up your dress.”
She slowly pulled up her dress. She had chosen a white cotton pair with small multi-colored balloons spread out across the front and back.
“Turn around. I want to see that tush.”
The little underwear clung tightly to her behind. What a sight. I made her stand there like that for a couple of minutes.
“How old are you?”
“How old do you feel right now?”
“That’s right. I want you to remember this the next time you think about getting into trouble. Because next time we’ll be going to the mall. Maybe we’ll run in to some of your friends. What do you think about that?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I pulled her over my lap and brought my hand down hard. I didn’t stop until I saw the redness from her bottom coming through the thin material of her panties. I pulled her underwear down to get a better look. Yup, nice and red.
“Mommy’s got a surprise for you. Can you guess what it is?”
I picked up the ladybug hairbrush and swung it down right in the middle of her left cheek. I did it again to the right cheek. I struck her six more times in different areas. As the last one landed, I noticed that her butt matched the pattern on the back of the hairbrush. Very red, with dark splotches evenly spaced out. I chuckled to myself, then continued. Since this was Amy’s first hairbrush spanking I didn’t go on too long. Three minutes, maybe more. I was concentrating so hard at the task at hand that I didn’t hear a word she said. All I heard now was a loud pitchy wail.
“How old do you feel NOW?”
“S S Six.”
“Good. I think we are are done here then. I want you to go stand in the corner until your father comes home. I want him to see what a pretty little girl you are.”
I followed her over to the corner. I told her to put her hands straight up and then reach back over her shoulders. I lifted the dress up and placed it in her hands.
“This is how you are going to do corner time when you are wearing a dress. You better not drop it or you’ll get double of what you just got.”
I reached down and straightened out her panties. I pulled the middle part down so it was just below her knees. I took a step back and admired my work.Yes, this was going to work out just fine.
“Honey, we’re going to be late for the auction.” I hear my husband call from downstairs.
I walk downstairs and find Amy in the kitchen.
“I left something on your bed. You better be wearing it and in the corner by the time I get home tonight.”
There’s that look again. Priceless
TEMPORAL MECHANICS” by the Crimson Kid
Krista Jackson’s brow furrowed as she addressed her training partner, who was seated next to her on the short couch in her dormitory room. “Come on, Ollie, you know that the past is inelastic. You’re in training to become a temporal investigator, aren’t you?”
Twenty-year-old Oliver Madison chewed his lower lip. “Well, not exactly,” he murmured. “It’s primarily inelastic, but apparently insignificant events can be modified slightly, as long as the overall timeline isn’t affected.”
He was rather short, trim yet possessing a firmly-toned musculature, featuring an unusual combination of jet black hair, blue-gray eyes and pale skin. Although he was half-a-foot shorter than the blonde, athletic-looking twenty-two-year-old he partnered for, the young man’s facial features were chiseled enough to make him attractive to her—she especially appreciated his dark, slim moustache, feeling that it gave him a slight ‘bad boy’ look. Since his role in the woman’s training was to simulate someone who’d engaged in societally unacceptable behavior, him looking the part—at least via her perception—was therefore advantageous.
“So we could actually change something in the life of that schoolboy, the one from four hundred years ago whose diary you have a transcript of, huh?” Krista demanded cheerily. Her cornflower blue eyes sparkled with devilish excitement, making it difficult for her partner not to become hopelessly lost in them—she was quite a pretty female, in a perky, head-cheerleader way, and those wide, bright eyes were arguably her best feature.
He cleared his throat. “First of all, for a male it would be called a ‘journal’ rather than a ‘diary’ back then. Secondly, and more importantly, you’re not certified for even probationary time travel, as I am—but even I’d require the accompaniment of someone with full temporal certification, as a fail-safe in case of a problem occurring.”
The blonde pouted playfully. “You’re certified in all but a formal sense, you’ve told me that yourself, Ollie, and you have access to the temporal mechanics laboratory. Couldn’t you get permission to take me along with you for educational purposes?”
Oliver licked his lips. “No, I don’t think so—that would be highly irregular, my supervising teacher is unlikely to approve.”
“That’s Instructor Jefferson, isn’t it?” She queried.
He nodded curtly. “Kyle Jefferson, right. Do you know him?”
Krista laughed lightly. “We’ve spoken in passing on a few occasions. He seems to appreciate the way my unisuit fits me, especially the way it clings to my curvy butt.”
“That sounds like him, all right,” her partner conceded, although he could hardly fault his supervisor for feeling that way; after all, the young lady did have an extremely attractive albeit rather opulent derriere, which was cutely accentuated by the official scarlet outfit which was, like his, effectively a uniform denoting her educational field and degree of progress.
Her chuckle sounded like a bell chime. “Speaking of rotund rear ends, dear boy, we need to get down to business for this practice session. I’ll be employing a brand-spanking-new implement today, relative to my ‘Corporal Punishment in History’ course—it’s called a razor strop, and I’ve been informed that it packs a wicked sting.” She snickered. “I’m impatient to check out your reaction to it, Ollie, so please stand up and I’ll happily lower your breezebottom for you.”
“I’m sure you will.” He reluctantly obeyed, reminding himself of the tuition reduction that he’d received for accepting the ‘invitation’ of the local Spankmistress Corps to become a training partner for one of its apprentices. The prerecorded communication he’d received, from the Spankmistress General herself, had claimed that being chosen for such a service was an honor, based on his posterior’s functionality as a target for her practicing, plus his tolerance for intensive punishment being applied to it.
His charcoal gray, body-hugging unisuit, like all such outfits, had a small black circle, commonly called an “oopsie,” below his waist and directly above the top of his buttcrack. Once his smiling colleague had touched it with her finger, the seat flap of his unisuit, referred to as a “breezebottom,” was released from its connection with the rest of his clothing at its top and sides. Her fingers deftly pulled it downward to reveal the alabaster, firmly-rounded buttcheeks of her partner, watching with satisfaction as its upper edge, having momentarily become its lower one, automatically attached itself to the outfit’s material at lower thigh level.
“Oopsie, look at that,” Krista giggled. “Somebody’s bare bottom is out in the breeze, which means that it needs to be spanked very long and hard—this is a job for Spankmistess Apprentice Krista Jackson!” For some reason, repeating that silly saying just before administering corporal correction seemed to make every member of the Spankmistress Corps smugly pleased with herself, even the fiftyish Spankmistresses who’d made that same basic punishment-promising pronouncement tens of thousands of times.
Her immediate victim shuddered, knowing that she took her practice sessions very seriously, much to his behind’s blazing detriment, in spite of the apparent frivolity she exuded beforehand. “Which position do you wish me to assume?” he demanded by rote.
Rising to her feet, the amazon reached into her official equipment bag, which lay open atop the side table, and took out an instrument of corporal connection made of slick, pliable brown leather with a crimson handle of corrugated rubber—its striking length was eighteen inches long, almost three inches wide and three-eighths of an inch thick. Gripping its handle tightly in her right hand, she pointed at the couch’s round, well-padded arm to the anxious male’s left.
“Punishment position six, bending far forward,” she stated calmly. “Stick your hind end way up, please, I’ll want wide-open access to those tender undercheeks of yours.”
“Certainly, sweetheart.” Oliver grudgingly bent over the couch arm, obediently stretching his body onto the couch’s seat so that his gray-framed nether moons were pushed upward toward the ceiling. The hundreds of true chastisements which he’d received from certified Spankmistresses since his fifth birthday had taught him that failure to comply with their commands, both quickly and completely, would result in the extension and intensification of his discipline at their hands—an approach which Krista also practiced.
He felt the strop’s smooth, cool surface tap the ‘sit spots’ at the base of his exposed posterior as the trainee disciplinarian took aim, then adjusted her stance for a full arm’s-length swing with her leather punitive implement. “I can’t require you to address me as ‘ma’am,’ the way you’ll have to once I’m certified as a Spankmistress, but I can extend this practice session for your flippancy toward me,” she informed the vulnerable young man. “You won’t be thinking of me as your sweetheart, dear boy, while you’re getting a truly thorough hiding with this seriously severe strap. Take a deep breath, my sassy spankybuns, because for you it’s crying time!”
The Spankmistress-in-training proved herself to be both a proficient ass-thrasher and a reliable prophet once her practice session with the razor strop was underway. Focusing her chastising attentions on the plump ‘sit spots’ of those rounded twin targets being provided by her spankee, she delivered a resolute and steady strapping which eventually broke him down into a shamelessly blubbering little boy. Although Oliver attempted to restrict his reactions to being severely strapped atop his naked buttock rounds, his spanker held an overwhelming advantage over him, physically and also psychologically, which she pressed relentlessly to make him gasp, then yelp, then sob, then wail, then finally howl as his hindquarters squirmed under the extended leathering they underwent.
Afterward, as she massaged ‘softskin’ lotion onto the roughened, fiery-looking surface of her prone, sniffling victim’s nether moons, while kneeling atop his lower back, the apprentice sighed with self-satisfac
“Yuh-You ehnn-joy your trah-training too muh-much,” he noted cynically, even as his ravaged rump felt soothed by her hands’ caring touch.
She tittered. “Oh, you’re just upset that I made you bawl like a baby, like I always do during a practice session.” Her palm patted his throbbing backside. “I’ve got an excellent idea for a temporal excursion we can take together, based on that diary’s account, one that will be enlightening for us both—Instructor Jefferson will have to be convinced to allow it, but you can leave that little detail up to me…”
Three days later in the extremely early morning, while they were lying, supine and side-by-side, on the divans which were contained within one of the flux fields in the temporal mechanics laboratory, Oliver addressed his fellow student bluntly. “Tell me that you didn’t have sex with him to seal this deal, at least.”
Her chortle sounded mischievous to him. “No, I didn’t really, but he does expect something along that line sometime soon. He was quite helpful in programming the temporal travel mechanism to send us precisely where we need to go, then to retrieve us at the proper moment, based on the journal’s information and his knowledge of the early twentieth century.”
The young man snorted. “I wasn’t here when it happened, so I’ll have to trust your influence over the guy. We’ll only be changing one minor aspect of the past, righting a wrong which was perpetrated against Reginald Lincoln by his stepsister Sheila, according to his journal entry. You’ll be occupying her body, which will allow you to access her memories and basic behavior patterns, so all you’ll have to do is make the girl confess to setting up her stepbrother for a switching in school.” He paused in contemplation. “If the timing has been set up properly, your consciousness should return here in time to avoid experiencing Sheila’s punishment.”
Krista’s eyes flashed with secret knowledge. “Your awareness will remain in Reginald’s body for fifteen minutes after that, long enough for you to watch his manipulative stepsister get her naked hiney whipped with a birch rod by their teacher, Miss Bismarck, right in front of their entire class. I’ll want a detailed report for the research assignment I’m doing based on this, so pay close attention.”
Her co-conspirator’s grin was wry. “Witnessing someone else, in fact a pretty fifteen-year-old girl, on the receiving end of some sound corporal correction for a change, I believe that I can handle that concept without much trouble.”
Krista smiled broadly. “Then engage the traveler, let’s see how temporal mechanics will actually work…”
Three and a half hours later, the blonde’s consciousness returned from the year 1912, within the rural small town in Iowa where she’d been involved in intriguing events while occupying the body of Sheila Lincoln, only to be galvanized by the sound and sight of an emphatic fanny-tanning which was taking place in the laboratory.
Bent over the back of a hovering magnachair, his hands desperately gripping its front edges, was a bland-looking thirtyish man, whose fairly long hair and over-brimming eyes were both medium brown in color. The stocky, somewhat short male was wearing the field gray unisuit of a junior faculty member in the Temporal Mechanics Department, with its ‘breezebottom’ lowered to expose an upthrust pair of meaty buttcheeks which were already cherry red, yet steadily darkening in coloration.
Wielding a vicious-looking, two-feet-long school strap in administering a highly hurtful hiding to the continuously weeping, wailing teacher was a fortyish dark brunette, one who matched Krista’s height but was quite a bit more buxom and strong-looking. The early-middle-aged woman’s face, which was handsome rather than pretty, bore a determined expression as she continued to crack her flashing instrument of corporal chastisement across the base of her hapless victim’s squirming backside—its hue was approaching that of his punisher’s unisuit, which was the deep magenta of an officer in the Spankmistress Corps.
The feminine disciplinarian glanced briefly at the young lady who had slipped off the divan her body had been lying atop, but without interrupting the sizzling punishment she was in the process of delivering. The dumbstruck observer watched mutely, feeling dread and fascination in equal parts, as the strict correction continued for another six minutes, by which time its recipient was blubbering like a maternally-spanked toddler while his unprotected posterior was exhibiting an outraged, reddish-purple glow.
The woman was well known to Krista, of course—Amelia Jackson, her aunt, academic advisor and personal mentor, and as a lieutenant colonel in the Spankmistress Corps, its highest-ranking faculty associate on campus. The sobbing man, whose ‘oopsie’ she was pressing just before re-covering his ravaged rump with the released ‘breezebottom’ flap, was also recognizable to the inadvertent witness of his severe shellacking—Kyle Jefferson, the instructor in temporal mechanics whom she’d convinced to let her and Oliver bypass the department’s regulations.
“I’ll be contacting you shortly about scheduling three further sessions of severe chastisement, Instructor Jefferson,” Amelia stated bluntly. “I’m going to give you recovery periods of two days between ass-thrashings, and that’s being generous of my part, considering your transgressions.” Her right hand patted the whimpering male’s tear-streaked face. “You let my pretty young niece manipulate you by sashaying her sweet little bumcheeks at you, pretending that you might get a piece of them, but you didn’t explain enough temporal mechanics to her—she knew how to alter the mechanism’s settings, but not the effect it would have in present time. Don’t worry though, her cute caboose will be getting its due attention right away—just not from you.”
Kyle’s head nodded. “Yeh-Yes, ma’am, Madame Spankmistress…Thuh-Thank you for spah-spanking my naughty bare bottom to may-make me become a better citizen, ma’am.”
The officer beamed. “You’re most welcome. Now be on your way for the moment, I’ll be in touch with you very soon.” She turned to face her niece, who was trembling with trepidation. “Oh, your discipline isn’t going to be quite that severe, Krista dear, but it will be plenty enough to leave a lasting impression on your behind, and hopefully your mind too. However, let’s have a friendly little talk first…”
When Oliver’s awareness returned to his twenty-fourth-century body, his partner in temporal journeying was bent across her aunt’s wide lap, with her unisuit’s ‘breezebottom’ in its so-called “down position” and a sturdy, half-inch-thick lexanite paddle steadily smacking her naked hiney’s sensitive underbuns with great expertise. The blonde was crying continuously as her broad, bouncy behind reddened brilliantly while her feet kicked with frantic futility. He was able to observe the final four minutes of the punitive session while seated on his divan. He knew that the Spankmistess General herself wasn’t immune to earned chastisement, but until then he’d never seen even an apprentice in the Corps being walloped.
Although sobbing raggedly as she was helped back to her feet, Krista nonetheless flashed a sly smirk at the witness to her discipline. “Heh-Hello, Ollie, weh-welcome back. Muh-My little trick wah-worked fine in the p-past, but I meh-essed up on my knowledge of tuh-temporal mechanics.”
Her aunt chuckled softly. “Here, sweetie, let me give your shining seat some coverage—your cohort here has gotten a pretty good gander at it already, he’s seen enough.”
“Thuh-Thank you for spanking my naughty bah-bare bottom, Madame Spankmistress, to may-make me become a better citizen, ma’am.” Speaking those words immediately following the restoration of her rearward modesty, Krista ruefully realized that they would be much more enjoyable to hear from someone else whom she’d disciplined.
The older female’s hazel eyes danced merrily. “You’ll be getting one more session in three days’ time, Krista, I’ll contact you about it later. Meanwhile, just wait quietly while I discuss the error of his ways with your partner in mischief.”
The apprentice sniffled. “Oh-Okay, Auntie.”
Amelia’s gaze met her next correction recipient as she beckoned him to approach her. “Come over here, young man, I’m going to bare your chubby caboose for you before we have our quick conversation—then I’ll want you in ‘punishment position three’ over that chair’s back for a very lengthy encounter with my rubber strap.” Thirty seconds later, Oliver was standing bare-assed and facing the disciplinarian while Krista, at her aunt’s direction, stood behind him and moderately slapped the pliable punitive implement against his quivering buttock rounds. (“That should help him maintain awareness of an impending event,” the Spankmistress had explained.)
“The timing was wrong,” the nervous male complained, “Not to mention that I was double-crossed by Krista.”
The mature woman’s expression was amused. “So she’s told me…Not only did she refrain from confessing to the crime that the girl whose body she was occupying had committed, so that your fourteen-year-old boy was given a harsh birching on his naked fanny in front of his classmates, which you fully experienced while in his body.”
He moaned. “Putting a snake in the teacher’s desk, that was simply considered a boy-type prank—that’s why she took Sheila’s word over Reginald’s. Damn, was she ever angry at me—or him, whatever.”
At a wink from Amelia, her niece increased both the force and tempo of the smacks she was applying to her partner’s exposed posterior, making them land at three-second intervals with medium intensity.
“These smacks are just to remind you of what’s upcoming for that foolishly risk-taking bare bottom of yours,” she announced in response to his soft gasps. “Krista was clever in reprogramming the time-traveling mechanism to keep you in the past for an additional two hours, which gave her time to have Sheila tell her mother about Reginald’s supposed misconduct in school after they’d gotten back home.” Her chortle reflected admiration for the younger woman’s precise planning. “So his stepmother took Reginald out to their woodshed and gave him a pants-down licking with the razor strop—which Sheila was allowed to watch, as a reward for tattling on him for an offense which she’d actually committed.”
Krista dimpled in delight. “It was really awesome, Auntie, did she ever blister that boy’s bare rear end—it was glowing a dark violet-red afterward. I was transported back to the present just a moment after it was over, so I’d timed it perfectly. I’m not certain that Ollie, stuck in Reginald’s body while he bawled like a baby, enjoyed it all that much though.”
Her aunt’s smile was smug. “I’m certain that he didn’t, even though you two did demonstrate the slight elasticity of past events, since Reginald ended up being spanked twice due to your intervention. Of course, dear girl, you didn’t understand that you’d end up staying in stasis for two more hours in the present, while your conscious awareness was still occupying Sheila’s body back then—the same for Oliver in Reginald’s body, except for an extra fifteen minutes.”
Still cracking the rubber implement across her training partner’s naked buttcheeks, but then with fairly hard strokes which were making him gasp, the young lady sighed ruefully. “So I didn’t get back, my consciousness anyway, until eight o’clock this morning, and our unauthorized use of the mechanism must’ve been reported by some early-bird student who spotted our bodies on the divans—my not understanding temporal mechanics well enough, that’s what got all of us in this trouble.”
“Speaking of which, I believe that it’s time for your cohort in rule-breaking to get ready for an exceptionally sound hiding, since you’ve given him such a nice warmup with that rubber seat-striper. Please hand it back to me, Krista, while I’d like you to assume your punishment position over the chair’s back, Oliver, and get that pale, precious rear of yours pointed at the ceiling.” The Spankmistress quickly moved into position, the handle of her corrective implement grasped in her right hand, to administer a lengthy, highly hurtful chastisement.
Her niece beamed at the confident disciplinarian. “Thank you for letting me observe Ollie getting his just desserts, Auntie.”
Amelia raised the strap to strike downward. “He’ll be getting another two butt-blisterings later on this week, and you’re welcome to witness those as well—in fact, you can help me scorch his seat, since I’d like to see how effective you’ve become in your training.”
The blonde tittered. “That’s a deal then.”
THWAACK!! CRACK!! SPLACK!! THWAACK!! The stinging-hot licks of firm-yet-flexible rubber began emphatically impacting against Oliver’s vulnerable undercheeks, much to his pained dismay, as a dedicated member of the Spankmistress Corps once again performed her sworn duty…
Saturday Morning Cartoons
I had some free time last Saturday morning and I decided to relax and watch some TV. I was flipping through the channel guide and I noticed that there weren’t many cartoons on anymore. When I was I kid, Saturday mornings were my favorite time of the week. I actually woke up early and was excited. I hated getting up early to go to school. There were so many cartoons on every channel that it was hard to decide which ones to watch. This reminded me of a memory from my childhood. Let’s go back in time.
I woke up and ran downstairs. I turned on the TV and switched the channel to one of my favorite shows. I went into the kitchen and got a box of cereal and a bowl. Then I went to the refrigerator for a gallon of milk. I brought everything into the living room and set it on the table. I poured the cereal into the bowl and filled it with milk. Just then, my little sister comes running down the stairs.
“What’s up, sleepyhead?” I say.
“Nothin’, stupid.” she says.”Whatcha’ watchin’ ?”
“My favorite cartoon.” I answer.
“Well, I get to watch mine next.” And she stuck out her tongue.
“Yeah, right.” I said sarcastically.
“Come on, we have to take turns.” she begged.
“Says who?” I ask.
“NO FAIR!” she yells.
“Shhh. You’re going to wake mom up. Go into the kitchen and get a bowl so you can eat some breakfast. I’ll think about it.” I tell her.
She stomps off to the kitchen. Mindy comes back with a bowl and I pour her some cereal and milk. We watch the rest off the show. When it ends she reaches for the remote control.
I quickly grab it at the same time.
“Let go.” she says.
“You let go.” I say.
We struggle with the remote and start to yell and scream at each other. I guess my mother heard us because she came down the stairs. In our struggle we knock over the container of milk. It spills on to the floor, all over the carpet. My mother rushes over to pick it up.
“You,” she looks at me, “Over there.” She points to a corner in the room.
“You,” she looks at my sister, “In that one.” she points to another corner.
She goes into the kitchen to get some towels. She places them on top of the spill and starts to rub the carpet.
“You two better hope that this comes up.” she says.
She sits down on the couch and calls my sister over. Mindy slowly turns around and walks over to her.
“Do you see what happens when you two fight?” our mother asks.
“But mommy, it wasn’t my fault. Bobby wouldn’t let me watch my show.” Mindy says.
“I don’t care. That doesn’t mean you should start yelling and screaming. If you think your brother is being unfair, you come and talk to me.” she explains.
“But, you were sleeping.” she says.
“Then you two need to learn how to cooperate. I’m not always going to be around to stop all this fighting. Now, I want you to pull down your pajama bottoms. You are both getting a spanking.” she announces.
“No mommy, please. I’m sorry.” my sister pleads.
My mother reaches around her waist and pulls her PJs down for her.
“Over” she says.
Mindy bends over and tries to touch the floor with her hands. She is just small enough that neither her feet nor her hands can reach the carpet. Then the spanking starts.
You SMACK are going SMACK to stop SMACK fighting SMACK with you brother SMACK. You SMACK are going SMACK to learn SMACK how to SMACK work things SMACK out SMACK with him. SMACK I don’t SMACK want to SMACK have to SMACK do this SMACK again. SMACK
I hear my sister getting spanked and I feel a little joy. Then I feel some dread because I am next.
“Up” my mother says to my sister, ” Take off your pants”
She stands up and rubs the tears out of her eyes. Then she takes off her bottoms. She’s standing there in a purple top and My Little Pony underwear.
“I want you to go upstairs in my room and bring me back the hairbrush that is on my vanity.” she tells her. WHAAA . Fresh whines come out of my sister.
Mindy does as she is told. She hands it over to our mom and starts babbling please…don’t…sorry.
“Honey, it’s ok. Go back to the corner. Mommy is finished with you now.” she comforts her.
“Bobby, come over here” she says to me,”You are older and you should know better. That’s why YOU are getting the hairbrush.”
“But moooom, she started it.” I whine.
“Doesn’t matter. You need to help me out with her. I can’t do it all by myself.” she explains.
“But, I just wanted to watch cartoons. She’s the one who made all the noise.” I tell her.
“I don’t want to hear anymore.” she says, and pulls my pajamas down.
I stood there shocked because my Batman underpants came down with them. My mom had a shocked look on her face too. Then her face turned angry again and she said, “Over” I had never gotten a bare bottom spanking before. I have seen my sister get them, rarely. I think it made her uncomfortable with me, though. I bent over her knees. I was big enough to touch the floor with both my hands and feet.
WHAP You are WHAP going to WHAP be more WHAP responsible. WHAP You are WHAP going to WHAP learn how WHAP to share. WHAP I will WHAP not WHAP put up WHAP with this WHAP anymore. WHAP
She started right with the hairbrush. No warm up. It stung so bad. I don’t usually cry during a spanking but I was about to. And when I did my mother stopped and said, “Up”. I stood up and immediately rubbed my butt.
“I’m sorry, mom. I’ll be more responsible. I’ll behave.” I promised.
“Good. Now, go back to the corner. In fifteen minutes you two are going to scrub this carpet.” she said.
And sure enough, a little later, there was me (in a blue pajama top and Batman underwear) and my sister (in her purple top and My Little Pony panties) scrubbing the floor with scrub brushes and soap, still sniffling.
I remember watching a lot of girly cartoons after that because of my sister. I guess it was fair. We took turns. I got into other interests a couple of years later. So she had the TV all to herself for awhile. Except for the times I had to babysit her. She could be such a brat.
Ah, another memory. Maybe next time.
I just realized, I have cried over spilled milk. LOL
I added the hairbrush and bare bottom to this true story.
It has been said that the first spanking in history was when Eve went over Adam’s knee after they were expelled from the Garden of Eden. However, before there was even a Bible the ancient Egyptians had already incorporated spanking into their religion.
To the followers of the goddess Isis spanking was actually a sacred duty. In the temple female slaves had their bottoms whipped to honour the goddess of motherhood and fertility. This made such an impact that centuries later the Greeks and Romans adopted the habit and held their own spanking parties to promote fertility.
The interesting thing about spanking and other forms of corporal punishment centred on the buttocks is that rather than being directed at children the practice was original reserved for women.
As a recent article points out, “Spare the rod, Spoil the child” is not from the Bible but was in fact written by…
View original post 660 more words
Charlie Lain’s mess of dark blonde curls tumbled pell-mell over her face as she stood bent at the waist in the middle of Davina’s floor. Her only clothing was a short white T-shirt emblazoned with a large yellow smiley face and a tiny pair of white ankle socks.
She was a small girl with a pert dome of a bottom that peeked cheekily from beneath the hem of her shirt as she steadied herself with her hands on her knees.
The bottom, once bleached pale, was now marred by pink blotches and here and there yellowish brown bruises. Since pledging, Charlie had as yet to sit easily and her bottom had scarce been given recovery time from one paddling to another.
“You know why you are here don’t you Charlie?” Davina said imperiously as her fidgeting fingers dusted the thin blade of the long paddle in her hands.
The bare bottom…
View original post 3,250 more words
Here is another curio from the original 1970s TV sci-fi The Tomorrow People. US actress (as they were called back then) Sandra Dickinson (an alien girl called Emily) is spanked by Nicholas Young who played the original John character, who is still featured in the latest US remake of the show.
In this episode of the show aliens visit Earth with a very different view of how men should be treated and kidnap John and torture him into cooperating. The scene below is the climax where he has escaped and is attempting to resolve the situation.
Contrast this with the comedy sketch from the Two Ronnies featured here a few week’s back. Reverse gender roles resolved by spanking seems to have been a theme of the 1970s.
Interestingly, in this episode Sandra appeared alongside her later husband Peter Davidson who went on to play Dr Who.
Ms Dickinson also played…
View original post 17 more words
I love my Daddies cock. Everything about it.
The feel of Daddies hard cock sliding between my lips.
I like it rubbed against my face while I beg to suck it.
I want Daddies precum coating my mouth while my eyes roll up and my mouth is filled over and over again.
I want to be positioned on the end of the bed, mouth agape, face fucked, strings of spit leaving my mouth messy.
I want to watch as my Daddy masturbates from across the room so I long for him and his cock.
I want to watch as Daddies cock slides into other women, his face contort in pleasure as he knows he is fully supported for enjoying forbidden pussy.
I want to suck it afterwards.
I want to lick his ass while I am pleasuring him.
I want to serve his cock every single time he tells me to.
I want cum. I want *Daddies* cum.
My pleasure comes from making Daddies cock feel good. I would never cum again as long as I was allowed Daddies fat fucking cock in my mouth, that would be fine with me.
That’s cock worship.
My first mistake was not believing him when he said he was going to spank me. I never thought he had it in him. Christ he must have spanked me for an hour, well it seemed like it. I don’t think I’ll sit down for a week. I mean the others will be back soon, what if they had come in while he was spanking me?
The bastard took my knickers down and spanked my bottom purple, ooh ugh I can’t… ouch. Lord knows where they ended up. I must have kicked them off somewhere.
My second mistake was calling him a bastard the moment he let me go. The spanking I got for that was worse than the first one.
“Okay, okay, I’ll be a good girl,” I told him, but my bottom definitely paid the price for my smart mouth. Why can’t I ever learn?
My third mistake…
View original post 143 more words