A new twist.


Let’s change this website up a little.. I thank the 1000’s of people who come here weekly, I so appreciate it. I have not been posting and yet you all still come. I check my stats, and say thank you to the other bloggers for linking me to their pages. I am honored to know there is a lot of good BDSM writing here at levenageorge, and will definitely continue to post and add other bloggers.

I am also gonna start adding pages and making this blog more educational. There is a huge void in a lot of women and mens lives, all pertaining to sexual feelings of being inadequate. We think we are freaks, and desire a source of sexual fantasies and thoughts of pleasure through socially unacceptable ways. Sex is vastly psychological now, so why has, and does social monogyny allow us to change that. It’s not that it is a bad thing for change to happen, but we have to make sure we are mentally keeping our own self healthy, by understanding psychological is biological and, if we are truly born a sexually aroused creature first, then why is it we disregard ones sexual psychological thoughts that come from natural pathways of learning to love and attach to others in this world full of fear. Fear is a huge arousal element, crying is a huge cathartic release as is the orgasm. Its a huge stress release to cry and release tears, or release sexual tension. It heals us biologically in times of stress causing self inflicted depression .. Just saying. Angeline

The domain of our emotional mind is like billions of sand granules in a sandbox, where we play, and permit OURSELVES to think, to feel as we wish without fear of consequences. The more we use this to come to terms with our primitive urges and emotions the healthier we will be. Whenever a person’s emotional resentment is turned within, it manifests as depression. Let’s stop being victims of self inflicted depressions, and play healthier in the sandbox of emotions, by not giving in to the primitive urges of anger, hurt, and resentment that others unkindly bestow upon us. Angeline


Daddy’s Belt! a poem by Indica

Daddy’s belt!

I gulp hard, and grab my butt
Rosiness burns upon my cheeks
The belt slides gracefully out of the loops
I sense my knees go weak.

Clicking and clanking of his sliver metal buckle
will make my insides shiver.
My hands are shaking, as I stand head bowed,
I know the pain he will deliver.

The belt comes down upon my skin
Each one getting tougher.
I cringe with every punishment stroke,
my Daddy is getting rougher.



This story contains spanking of children, if you don’t like then go and read something else..


The sudden shrillness of the whistle startled me as I was taking off my forest green Camp Gabrielle t-shirt at the waterfront, leaving me clad in an aquamarine bikini.

“Buddy check!” shouted my first cousin, Paul Royalton, then he clambered up to stand atop the wooden picnic table and survey Wellington Pond. In its lukewarm waters or on the floating raft in the deep area, bathing-suited children between nine and eleven years of age, along with four of their late-teenaged counselors, were coming together in pairs to hold one of each other’s hands aloft.

One slim, pretty ten-year-old girl was standing on the raft looking rather puzzled, while another one, a rather pleasingly plump dark brunette with a sweet-looking face, was standing alone in the shallow part of the swimming area. The first unpartnered girl, a sandy blonde with shoulder-length hair and blue-gray eyes, dived into the water and swam ashore while everyone else waited in silence.

“Oops,” I chuckled while kicking off my rubber flip-flops, “Someone’s misplaced her buddy.”

Reaching the shallow water, the ten-year-old ducked under the plastic marking-off line and walked over to grip her rediscovered partner’s hand and lift it up. “Okay, we’re together now,” she chirped.

Paul blew the whistle again, ending the `buddy check,’ before letting it fall to his chest, suspended by a lanyard of red-and-white boondoggle which had been given to him by a preteen feminine admirer a month earlier. “Erika and Belle, get your little rear ends up here,” he briskly instructed the two female youngsters as he re-seated himself on the table top, his bare feet resting atop the attached wooden bench.

“Don’t be too hard on them, Paul,” I chortled, “They’re only fifth graders, after all.” What was he going to do anyway, other than lecture them a bit?

The girls looked a touch intimidated as they approached, but it was also obvious—at least to a `woman of the world’ like myself—that in spite of their innocent ages they appreciated my cousin’s athletic 6’1″ physique, bronzed skin (back then a nice tan wasn’t considered to be unhealthy), sun-bleached blond hair and analytical pale blue eyes, his nicely-toned body attired in teal blue swimming trunks and a spring green Camp Gabrielle tank top.

He motioned toward the bench. “Sit down on opposite ends and be quiet, ladies, spend the next five minutes thinking about staying with your buddy during swimming time.” He glanced at his waterproof wristwatch, noting the time.

“Such an old grouch,” Erika mumbled as she and Belle obeyed, but there was a sunny sparkle in her eyes.

Spreading my beach towel on the grass behind the picnic table, I lay prone on it to `catch a few rays’ and deepen my own suntan.

Several minutes later, I vaguely heard my cousin moving behind me, then I heard him addressing the two preteens. “Okay, ladies, you can go back in the water—but only after you each go over my knee for a spanking.” Hearing a solid-sounding THWAAP!!, I rolled over and sat up in time to observe him standing on the other side of the bench, holding my right-foot flip-flop in his hand—he’d obviously just smacked it against his left palm. Keeping a very serious expression on his face, he gazed down at Belle. “Would you like to go first, sweetheart? A couple dozen whacks, that’s all I’ll give you, but they are going to smart quite a bit.”

The ten-year-old gulped. “No, please don’t, I’m sorry.”

To Paul’s right, Erika guffawed. “Oh right, like you’re really going to spank us with that rubber sandal! Here, let me go first then.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I’m bluffing–we don’t actually practice corporal punishment at Camp Gabrielle, I was just playing with you girls.” His hand motioned upward. “Get up, you can go back in the pond, just be careful about staying together from now on.”

As the two youngsters scampered back into the water, I heard Brittany’s voice from behind me. “Oh really, so `we don’t actually practice corporal punishment’ here, of course not,” she trilled. Paul had resumed his seat atop the table, and he turned leftward as her sweet, slim derriere plopped down adjacent to his left hip. Although she was a-year-and-a-half my junior, I couldn’t help feeling a touch envious of the sixteen-year-old’s lithe, athletic yet fully feminine body, nicely displayed by the tight-fitting emerald green bikini she was wearing, not to mention her stunningly pretty facial features, cascading light brown, moderately curly hair and shining tan eyes. “So nobody ever gets his bare bottom spanked here at Camp Gabrielle, huh?” she demanded, sarcasm evident in her rhetorical question.

He blushed, his eyes facing frontward to scan the pond—which he could justify as doing his job, rather than evading Brittany’s gaze. “Uhhhh, I was referring to the campers, Brittie,” he explained.

“Well, I think that somebody needs a seriously stinging reminder of exactly who is subject to having his naked fanny tanned whenever he deserves it,” she said pointedly. “You had that one little girl close to tears, she was truly frightened that you’d smack her seat with Miriam’s flip-flop.”

I’d been fed a perfect cue. “Which I’ll take back now, please,” I announced while climbing to my feet. Walking around the picnic table, I seated myself atop it to my cousin’s right, effectively leaving him surrounded by the two teenaged females who had full spanking privileges over him at the time.

“Sure, Miriam, I was only teasing those two little ladies,” Paul stated lightly as he handed me the rubber-soled sandal.

However, I refused to allow him to drop the subject of someone needing to have his boyish behind blistered. “Now that you’ve brought up the subject, my dear cousin, it occurs to me that you haven’t been chastised at all this week, except for that pants-down spatula walloping over Brittie’s knee on Sunday night—so you’re definitely overdue for discipline today, I’d say.”

Brittany nodded. “You’re absolutely correct, Miriam, three days is too long a time between butt-whippings for this naughty boy, we’ve `slacked off’ on reddening his precious rear for him…We’d better remedy that oversight this evening, IN SPADES, don’t you think?”

My favorite cousin shivered. “Come on, you two, someone might overhear you,” he protested, although no one else on the shore was close enough to overhear our conversation.

“Oh, so we shouldn’t mention the concept of corporal punishment if it’s going to be applied to your babyfat bottom, huh?” I inquired pointedly. “We can only discuss fifth-grade girls getting their seats slapped, is that it?”

His voice was low. “Why don’t we just not talk about it at all, Miriam?” He glanced to his left. “That should include you too, Brittie.”

She chortled softly. “Okay, Paul, perhaps you’re right—after all, actions speak louder than words…So let’s say seven-fifteen tonight, at our cabin, be properly dressed for a bare-assed strapping with my belt, followed by a trip across my lap for a session with my spanking brush.” Sliding to her feet, she turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I’m going in for a dip now, before it’s time to help with preparing supper, so I won’t have to listen to you arguing with me about this.”

“But, Brittie—” Paul sputtered, only to be cut off by her right pointer finger gently touching his lips.

“No protests,” she interjected calmly, “Simply accept that I’ll be giving you a very thorough tanning on your naked fanny tonight.” Her resolute gaze locked onto my eyes. “If you want to join us and get in some solid licks of your own, Miriam, I’d be happy to have you participate—as would your cousin too, I’m certain.”

I couldn’t help chuckling at Paul’s expression—it was quite priceless, a mixture of dismay, frustration and anticipation. “Oh, you can count on me, and I’ll expect him to be bringing along his birthday paddle for my use in disciplining him—Ouchie!!” After dropping forward to my feet, I turned and patted his left cheek. “Don’t forget, either, since your paddywhacks will be doubled if I have to send you back to your cabin for it.” I sharply slapped the flip-flip’s sole against my left palm—CRACK!—which made him flinch a bit.

“Right, Miriam,” he muttered, then Brittany ran into the pond’s lukewarm water while I resumed my sunbathing, leaving our beloved lifeguard mulling over his near future as he regarded the swimmers rather disconsolately. However, I was aware that his concern over his upcoming red-bottomed correction was undoubtedly a conmingling of negative and positive feelings, probably dominated by a `butterflies in the tummy’ sensation while he was considering his punitive fate…

Paul was required to cooperate in being chastised by us two young ladies, until we were finished with the summer season at Camp Gabrielle, due to his having lost a wager with us at the very beginning of the camp’s schedule. He’d ironically lost that bet via allowing our mid-thirtyish head cook, Marcella (Marcie) Valentine, to administer corporal correction—a sound strapping with a thick leather belt followed by an extremely extended, severe walloping with her Jokari paddle while he was upended across her thighs–to him atop his exposed asscheeks, so his being disciplined once by Marcie had led to repeated spankings for my cousin from us other cooking staff workers, namely Brittany (kitchen aide) and myself (assistant cook).

Although nothing was overtly mentioned regarding the evening’s looming disciplinary activities at the staff dining table during supper, it was obvious to me that our head cook was smugly aware of them while Pia Emmanuel, the attractive early-twentyish camp nurse, a tall, slim silver blonde, was somewhat suspicious that Paul was facing an imminent bare-bottom blistering. The only other male staffer, maintenance worker Jeremy Justinjohn–my one-time high school classmate–was predictably clueless about the entire situation, although even he noticed his former wrestling teammate’s air of anxiety.

“You seem nervous, Paul,” he noted offhandedly, “Are you upset about something?”

Marcie chortled. “Oh, it’s just `ants in his pants,’ isn’t it, dear boy?”

While we females at the table smirked knowingly, Jeremy looked at us with blank uncertainty.

My cousin’s facial cheeks flushed pinkly, an effect which only his ex-teammate failed to notice. “Oh, I’m okay, just daydreaming a little…”

Once the meal was over, with the cooking staff cleaning up in the kitchen while Paul worked in the adjoining and smaller dishwashing area, Marcie’s palm playfully patted the seat of his bluejean shorts as he was loading a dish rack with dirty plates.

“My, oh my, somebody’s going to get it good tonight, that’s pretty obvious,” she tittered teasingly. “I’m sure glad it won’t be my bare bottom catching a whipping, because I’ve heard rumors that it really stings on a naked hiney.”

I grinned at his discomfiture. “If by `catching a whipping’ you mean a very naughty boy being strapped, paddled and spanked with a hairbrush, his pants pulled down and only a jockstrap for underwear, then you should stop by our cabin at seven-fifteen—then perhaps you’ll be able to figure out if that will leave a certain someone `hurtin’ for certain’ on his red-hot rear end.”

Our former babysitter smiled smugly. “Oh, I’ll gladly accept that generous invitation…May I bring Pia along to consult with?”

Brittany chuckled. “The more the merrier, after all you two have had Paul’s nicely smackable seat exposed to your view plenty of times over the years.”

“Not to mention having the pleasure of making it glow like a Hawaiian sunset,” Marcie clucked. “Okay then, we’ll be there…”

Naturally, my obedient cousin arrived several minutes early, at seven-twelve that evening, and he was carrying the Spencer paddle which Brittany and I had given him (and eagerly applied to his exposed posterior) less than two weeks earlier, on his nineteenth birthday.

Pia chortled as she opened the door to the comfortable cabin I shared with Brittany, ushering him inside. “At least Paul knows enough not to be late and earn himself even more punishment, doesn’t he?”

“Thank you, dear boy,” I told him as I took the sturdily-constructed, eighteen-holed oakwood fanny-whacker from his hand, “I promise to put this bottom-blistering beauty to very good use for your benefit—however, I believe that your first spanking session is going to be carried out with Brittie’s belt.”

He gulped as his facial cheeks flushed. “Uhhhh-Okay, Miriam.”

My left hand snaked around his hip and crisply smacked the right buttcheek through his loose cotton sweatpants. “That’s `ma’am’ to you at the moment, young man—you’ve just cost your precious rear a dozen more paddleswats from me for disrespect.” I grinned at his dismayed expression, knowing that he had no idea how long of an ass-thrashing I’d originally been planning to administer to him, so he wouldn’t actually be able to tell if I’d extended it or not.

Marcie smirked smugly. “Paul honey, I think you’d better let me lower your warm-up bottoms for you so Brittie can get your punishment started right away—I know that you really desire the butt-whippings you’re about to get, that’s why you mentioned the subject of spankings where these girls were sure to overhear it, yet you still might wish to limit the damage to your derriere due to being disrespectful.”

My cousin nodded. “Yes, ma’am, Miss Marcie.”

She flashed him a sly smile. “Turn around and politely ask me to lower your sweats, so you’ll be nicely bare-bottomed for your needed discipline.”

He quickly complied, his facial blush brightening as he did so. “Uhhhh, well, please…pull down my sweatpants, Miss Marcie, so that I’ll…ummmm…be bare-bottomed for my…ahhhh…needed discipline, ma’am.”

“That will be my pleasure, sweetcheeks.” She squatted down behind him and slipped her eight fingers inside the back elastic waistband of his light blue warm-up bottoms. “Elevator going down,” she announced playfully while tugging them downward to his kneehollows, leaving only a heather gray athletic supporter to provide our naughty boy with any masculine modesty; his fully-rounded yet muscular buttock rounds, framed by the supporter’s side straps, were only six inches from the thirtyish woman’s face and she was obviously appreciating the view. “Hmmmm, you’ve pretty much completely recovered your hiney’s pale complexion from Sunday night’s seat-smacking, haven’t you? Well, I’m betting that Brittie and Miriam will soon put plenty of color back into these cheeks for you.” Her right palm briskly slapped each white globe after she’d stood back up. “Nice and cool right now—but not for long.”

(Paul’s posterior was given a nightly aloe cream and baby oil massage by Brittany, purportedly for the purpose of aiding its return to pristinely snow-white spankability before his next chastisement, but I was fully aware that both participants in the rump-rubbing activity greatly enjoyed themselves. Yes, even though the young man was my first cousin, I did envy my girlfriend quite a bit in that healing-yet-sensual role.)

Within a minute’s time, Paul had assumed the punitive position he’d been assigned by Brittany, bent over the couch’s round arm–the left one from a seated person’s perspective–with his chest and arms resting on the seat cushion and his exposed posterior pointed upward at the ceiling, which gave her excellent access to his tender undercheek areas, the fatty `sit spots’ just above his thighcreases. Standing two feet to her victim’s left and facing his hip, the pretty light brunette winked at me as she unbuckled her tan, wide leather belt, then she slowly pulled it through the waist loops of her khaki jean shorts.

Pia, sitting on the right side of the couch, and Marcie, standing behind her, both chortled at the expression on my cousin’s face as he heard the supple length of leather being freed for its owner’s usage—he knew that ominous sound very well, not to mention the impactful feeling on his vulnerable hindquarters that immediately followed it. Since I was facing Brittany while standing beside his right hip, I couldn’t view Paul’s facial reaction, however I was aware of how tremulously his naked buttcheeks were quivering as his soon-to-be chastiser doubled up her well-worn belt, gripped its ends together and raised it high in her right hand.

“This will teach you not to tease little girls and make them cry,” she announced curtly. “They may be teased about getting their fannies tanned, but you’re the one that it truly happens to, dear boy–so you’ll be the naughty child bawling like a baby tonight…Now ask me sweetly to give you a long, hard strapping on your bare babyfat bottom, Paul darling.”

He gulped before following the instructions. “Please, ma’am, uhhhh, give me…a good, hard…strapping…on my…ummmm…babyfat…bare…bottom,” he said haltingly, obviously feeling quite humbled. It was apparent to me that my girlfriend was taking this situation more seriously than I was—to me, it was merely a playacting pretext to administer an overdue bit of corporal chastisement atop Paul’s defenseless derriere.

“Close enough,” she noted curtly. “Very well, young man, I’ll be happy to fulfill your request very, very thoroughly.” Stepping forward with her left foot, she forcefully swung the doubled-up length of leather downward, cracking it across Paul’s openly-exposed asscheeks right along his `sit spots’ at the base of both buttocks.

“Uhhhh,” he gasped, gritting his teeth as a band of pinkish coloration appeared where the belt had impacted his naked hindquarters.

His disciplinarian smiled grimly. “This is going to be a really ferocious licking you’ll be taking, sweetie pie, I can guarantee you that.”

Then she promptly made good on that promise, delivering a fierce, quite extended belt-whipping atop Paul’s upthrust, helplessly squirming and rapidly reddening southern hemispheres, focusing her punitive attentions on the sensitive base of his firmly-rounded rear end. I was rather surprised by how vigorously my girlfriend strapped her hapless victim’s vulnerable hindquarters, making him weep and wail childishly, for what must have been close to ten minutes.

Even Marcie seemed to be taken aback. “Wow, that was an awesome ass-thrashing,” she murmured as the pretty brunette, her face flushed with the effects of her energetic exertions, stepped back to catch her breath while her male victim, his lower buttcheeks crisscrossed with bright crimson bands, continued to whimper raggedly, splashing teardrops onto the couch seat beneath his face.

“Did he deserve that serious of a strapping?” Pia wondered aloud, while Brittany’s fearsomely effective belt was returned to its usual location, encircling the waistline of her jean shorts.

“Apparently, in Brittie’s view,” I noted calmly, while my left hand was fondly ruffling my cousin’s sweat-soaked blond hair, undoubtedly slight consolation for the way his ravaged rump had to be throbbing at the time. “Stay right there and get your composure back, Paul honey,” I instructed him gently, “You’ll need a bit of recovery time before taking your paddling from me.”

Six minutes later, with my favorite cousin bent far forward over the couch’s high back by its near (to me) end, a position which left his highly reddened derriere jutting upward and backward, I was still pondering the situation as, standing and facing his left hip, I patted his trembling buns with the sturdy oakwood Spencer paddle. I’d anticipated that both Brittany and I would be administering fairly moderate chastisements, since after all Paul’s `offense’ had been quite mild—only one of the two female campers had been upset, and her only momentarily, due to his playful teasing—but my girlfriend had clearly `upped the ante,’ so to speak. Should I go along with delivering a more intensive paddywhacking than I’d originally planned on, I asked myself?

“All right, you naughty toddler,” I addressed my punitive victim, my tone of voice lightlly lilting, “Now I’m go to continue your friendly little lesson about misrepresenting a situation to naïve young ladies who don’t know better.” (Of course, I reminded myself, Erika hadn’t been fooled for even a moment by my dear cousin’s playacting—she had known he was bluffing.)

Having made the emotional atmosphere of the butt-smacking discipline considerably lighter, I then `stepped to the plate’ and administered a very solid paddling atop my dear cousin’s defenseless derriere, cracking the sturdy smoothness of the hardwood across his desperately quivering, exposed asscheeks with enthusiastic vigor. My resounding paddleswats were concentrated upon his fatty undercheeks, the each location where Brittany had just focused her strapping attentions, balanced out by a goodly number that impacted dead-center against each `southern hemisphere’ in turn and a few that caught him convincingly right along his thighcreases. Paul ended up being corporally corrected by me, wielding his own birthday fanny-whacker, for a solid eight minutes, which left him blubbering helplessly.

“My, he does carry on quite childishly, doesn’t he?” Marcie noted in amusement while regarding the deep magenta hue centered on the raggedly sobbing nineteen-year-old’s `sit spots,’ at the base of his firmly-rounded rear end. “That’s an awesome, shining-red color he’s displaying for us, isn’t it?”

Like the rest of us females present, she was well aware that our darling naughty boy had a hind end that was capable of taking plenty of serious paddywhacking punishment, not to mention that he subconsciously appreciated being bare-bottom chastised by his womenfolk—which were two key reasons why I’d walloped him so energetically, the third one being simply that I enjoyed dishing out long, very hard fanny-whackings.

“Okay, young man, get your nubbin of a nose into the corner and keep those shining twin stop-lights on display for us ladies,” Brittany instructed my cousin, giving each naked buttcheek of his a full-force slap with her right palm to speed him on his mini-journey. “Hands on your head,” she added, once he was beginning his cornertime reflection, “Cry all you want, but think about why you’re in this position, with your naked hiney feeling like it’s on fire and a long-distance trip across my lap still on our agenda.”

“Yuuh-Yes, mah-ma’am,” he stammered, still sniffling as teardrops trickled down his rosy facial cheeks.

Pia mock-somberly shook her head. “Tsk, tsk, Paul—making those little girls cry by threatening to blister their cute little buns, that’s being a bully.”

“Nothing that serious happened,” I pointed out. “Erika never thought that he was going to spank her, and even Belle only believed him for a minute—she wasn’t crying either.” My tongue licked my lips. “Our immature mischief-maker showed poor judgment, but that’s all it was—he’s really quite fond of those two campers.”

Which was why, I abruptly realized, my cousin had been strapped so extensively by Brittany and was facing a near-immediate shellacking via her spanking brush while bent bare-bottom-up over her knee—his easygoing, playfully affectionate attitude toward the two preteen females had made my girlfriend a touch jealous, since all summer he had been trying to restrain the attraction to her which he obviously felt.

Three minutes later, Paul was standing in front of the attractive light brunette, who was seated on the middle of the couch while impatiently patting the wooden brush’s flat back against her left palm. “Do you have a humble request for me, my naughty reprobate with the glowing glutes?” she demanded.

His face flushed even more deeply. “Ummmm, please ma’am, put me…across your lap…then give me, uhhhh…a long, hard spanking…on my bare…babyfat…bottom…with your hairbrush.”

Brittany’s face dimpled in delight. “My, what a polite request, I’ll certainly have to grant it fully for you—IN SPADES, dear boy.”

Which, of course, was precisely what took place over the following twelve minutes, with Paul held in a restraint position—right wrist turned upward and pinned to the back of his waist by his pretty chastiser’s left hand, while her right leg was locked into place across his lower thighs—as his openly-exposed posterior was steadily plastered by the punishment brush’s wide, flat back, as wielded by a well-conditioned star tennis player. She predictably concentrated her blistering-hard swats atop his `sit spots,’ which I could tell were going to be quite raw and blazing once his corporal correction was finally concluded, and he almost immediately found himself wriggling his hips, kicking his calves and bawling rather babyishly. Her victim had ceased struggling and had been reduced to merely moaning softly by the ten-minute mark of his extremely emphatic over-the-knee walloping, but Brittany still continued whacking his quivering, maroon-hued nether moons for another two minutes before she finally ended his corporal comeuppance.

“Wow,” Marcie murmured almost reverently, “Look at that purplish-red glow, right on the bottom of his flaming-hot bottom.”

Pia nodded pensively. “You might as well keep holding him right there, Brittie, while I get an ice pack from the infirmary. Once we’ve stopped any serious swelling, then he’ll need some aloe cream rubbed deeply into the roughened skin of his poor hiney.” She flashed a tight smile. “Fortunately, his rump is amazingly resilient, so there shouldn’t be any true damage, but he’ll have a prickling-warm feeling back there for at least the next few days.”

My cousin’s lower back was being gently massaged by his strict punisher, while he struggled through his sniffling tears to regain a touch of composure after he’d been released from being restrained. “That’s the whole idea,” she noted calmly, her brown eyes twinkling merrily, “That our girl-teasing, bad little boy will remember this lesson, and how I made his precious rear sting and throb to teach it to him, for a very, very long time.”

Paul’s behind was undoubtedly still `hurtin’ for certain’ the following afternoon, in spite of the night-before healing ministrations of his feminine co-workers, when I managed to sneak up behind him and plant two smarting slaps upon the seat of his Carolina blue swimming suit. He was standing up while watching the pond during swimming time, which I hardly found surprising given the obvious soreness of his posterior, and he yelped sharply as my palm connected solidly to each muscularly-rounded buttcheek in turn. “Owwwwie-ouuuuch!”

Erika and Belle, who were standing directly to his right, giggled gleefully at my handsome cousin’s pained reaction. “Paul, you just got your sweet fanny smacked,” the blonde tittered teasingly, “Miriam was spanking you!”

My smile was smug. “No, those were just playful love-pats,” I explained breezily. “This young man doesn’t truly get his buns toasted.”

“Really,” Belle inquired doubtfully, “So he doesn’t ever get that tender tushie paddled good and hard?”

My head shook in seeming sincerity. “Nope, not at all—he’s never been spanked, and he never will be…”

{The End}

The Kaidia Chronicles 8 – Kitchen Calamity

The Kaidia Chronicles 8 – Kitchen Calamity

Kaidia, Mytheria, Rose, and Kitiara were all standing outside the front door of a very large, elegant house that stood a couple of streets over from Kaidia’s home. None of them had changed clothing from earlier in the day. “Remember. Behave yourselves.” Kaidia said, giving each girl a look. The warrior then reached out and knocked on the door.

The woman who answered the door caused everyone but Kaidia to stare. She bore a striking resemblance to Kai. She was older but no less beautiful. “Mother.” Kaidia said curtly. The woman looked Kaidia up and down, her piercing blue eyes sweeping over her eldest daughter with an intense scrutiny. “Kaidia.” she returned formally. Then her gaze drifted over the other three young women, taking them in. “As always, you keep interesting company, daughter. And I see your sister wasn’t lying about the tattoo.” the elder Valengaard said while her eyes lingered on Kaidia’s right arm. The warrior’s brow arched. “Issue, Lady Valengaard?” Kai asked with a hint of sarcasm. The older woman smirked faintly. “None. I am just happy to see you had a decent artist do the work.” she returned before turning and walking inside, beckoning the group to come in.

Kit leaned over to Mytheria. “Did you get the familial connection there, red?” she asked with a snicker. “Shut up, cat.” Myth retorted in a sharp whisper. Rose giggled.

Kaidia’s mother, Syren, had shoulder length black hair that she had tied back in a ponytail, bangs and all. Nadia, Kai’s little sister, was somewhere in between. She had the same jet black hair but wore it shorter than her mother’s but longer than her sister’s. The youngest Valengaard wore her hair up in a ponytail as well but let her bangs fall loose to play about her face. Said little sister came running through the house, intent on flying past Syren and pouncing her sister. But as she got beside her mother, the older woman reached out and snagged the back of the girl’s shirt, then let go, effectively dropping Nadia on her butt.

“Hey! Mom!” Nadia growled from the floor. “No running in the house.” was all she got in reply as Syren walked back toward the kitchen. Nadia huffed, stood up, and brushed herself off before walking toward Kaidia, who was smirking. “Didn’t she used to paddle you for that?” the warrior asked. Nadia blushed. “Shut up, sis.” she responded whilst wrapping her arms around Kai in a tight hug.

Kai hugged back and kissed the top of her sibling’s head before letting go. She turned to her little family. “Nadia, this is Rose, Mytheria, and Kitiara.” she said as she pointed to them in turn. Nadia pounced on and hugged each girl in turn. “Welcome to the family.” the younger Valengaard sister said with a warm smile before turning to her sibling. “Dinner is almost ready. I’ll tell Dad you’re here.” she said and then bounded off, running of course. “Nadia! No running!” Syren shouted from the kitchen. Nadia grumbled and slowed to a fast walk.

Kaidia ushered her clan into a sitting room with a fire crackling merrily in a stone fireplace. “Sit and don’t touch things.” the mercenary said with a gesture to the shelves lining the walls that held books and various trinkets. The tattooed woman turned as she heard heavy footsteps coming quickly down the hall. A moment later, a big bear of a man came into the sitting room and grabbed Kaidia up in a crushing hug. Kai grinned and wrapped her arms around the man’s neck. “Ah, Kai, you’re as pretty as ever. And strong from what I’ve heard.” the man said. “Thanks, Dad. What’ve you heard?” Kai asked with a curious look as her father set the warrior back on her feet.

“Oh, just stories of a lone female warrior wiping out hordes of bandits, visiting the elves, commanding some of the King’s army, and taking out a demoness who’d taken over a town. Among other things.” the man replied, obviously a proud father. During this whole exchange, the thief, the neko, and the bar maid were all staring, slack jawed, at Kai’s father. The man was easily seven feet tall. He was a wall of muscle with long hair, a great beard and a moustache.

Kai’s father, Boreth, glanced around at the three other young women. “You’d better close your mouths or flies will shoot right in there, girls.” he said with a grin. All three of them snapped their mouths shut while Kaidia snickered. “You must be Kitiara, Mytheria, and Rose.” Boreth said as he pointed to each girl in turn. He named them all correctly. “I see you like to surround yourself with beautiful women, Kai. Just like your father.” the big man said with a wink. Kai just smirked and crossed her arms. “Best not let Mom hear you say that.” she said. Boreth huffed. “She has nothing to be mad about. I married her instead of any of the others.” the man reasoned. Kaidia just shook her head.

Boreth eyed Kaidia’s right arm. “Who did the tattoo?” he asked. Kaidia glanced down to the ink decorating her arm. “The warrior clan on Gravestone Mountain.” she replied. “How the hell did you get that group give you that??” Boreth asked with a bit of awe in his voice. Kaidia shrugged a bit. “Well, those priests of the new gods think the warriors of Gravestone Mountain are a bunch of heathens and tried to wipe them out with a hired mercenary force. I fought on the Gravestone side and after we’d won, then made me a honorary member of the clan. Hence, the tattoo. They gave me the name Thunderblade.” Kaidia explained with bit of a smile.

“That’s my girl.” the big man said with a grin. Mytheria, Rose, and Kit had all been listening intently. Despite living with Kaidia, they all realized just how little they actually knew about the warrior. All of the sudden, a clamor arose from the kitchen and the angry voices of Syren and Nadia rang out. “There they go again. They’ve been at it all day.” Boreth muttered. “Why?” Kai asked her father with an arched brow. “I don’t know. I don’t get involved unless I hear swords being drawn.” he responded with a small smirk.

Kaidia just shook her head at that. Though everyone in the room turned their heads toward the kitchen when they heard a shriek, cursing, and then a sound Kaidia hadn’t heard in this house since back in her early teen years. Everyone bolted for the kitchen. The sight that greeted their collective sight made five jaws drop.

There, in the middle of the kitchen, was Syren. She was seated in an armless, wooden chair and draped over her lap was Nadia. Nadia’s leather pants and dark green panties were at her knees and Syren was using a wooden spoon to pepper the poor girl’s bottom with hard, quick swats. Nadia was caught between cussing and yowling out in pain. Sure, she was a warrior but Syren was no weakling and that wooden spoon burned like hell. Neither mother nor daughter seemed to notice their audience.

That spoon kept coming down with terrible accuracy and tremendous force. Each slap of the oval implement against Nadia’s backside left a red ghost behind. Five pairs of eyes watched that spoon slap against the young woman’s bottom time after time. Quickly enough, the girl’s bottom was a dark shade of pink and Nadia was cursing less and apologizing a hell of a lot more. Not that any of that apologizing seemed to be reaching her mother’s ears or stopping that wicked spoon from slapping down over and over.

The slaps echoed in the candle lit, stone room. So did the yowls let out by Kaidia’s little sister. Just when Nadia was starting to kick her feet, Syren stopped. The spanked girl hopped up immediately and started rubbing her rear. “Ah, gods.” she muttered.

Syren stood, and tossed the spoon down on the heavy table between herself and the doorway. Her eyes flickered to the five in the doorway, and then fixed on her youngest daughter. “We aren’t done, Nadia.” she said sternly. Nadia’s mouth opened to protest but before she could, Syren spun the young woman toward the table with a hand on her shoulder. Upon seeing her elder sister, her father, Rose, the cat lady, and Myth, Nadia’s eyes opened wide and her cheeks flushed scarlet. She hadn’t realized that she had an audience for this.

Syren picked up a thick, heavy cutting board, one of those with the handle, and tapped it on her palm. “Bend over the table, brat.” she ordered sternly. “But…” Nadia protested weakly, gesturing to the crowd at the door. “Your father has spanked you before, your sister has seen you spanked before, and I’m sure Kit, Myth, and Rose have all been spanked or witnessed a spanking before. Now bend over, Nadia Valengaard.” the irritated mother demanded once more.

Nadia, with some trepidation, bent over the table and put her palms flat on the the top. She looked down at the table top as she presented her already sore bottom to her mother. “This is bullshit. I’m an adult.” the girl muttered. “Yes you are. Which makes it all the more shameful that I have been forced to punish you, young lady.” Syren responded sharply.

The older woman got into position behind her errant daughter and brought that cutting board turned paddle down hard against the young, firm bottom that was presented to nicely to her. The sharp crack of wood against skin rang out and Nadia shouted her displeasure. The next swat landed with an equally loud smack that caused Nadia to jerk and yelp out. The next swat of the board landed across the backs of Nadia’s thighs, causing the young woman to yowl and jerk against the table. “Mom!!” she said as a protest, a complaint. Syren didn’t answer, she just gave her daughter another crack of the paddle, right across her poor sit spots. Another cry of discomfort echoed in the room.

“Think you’ve learned, little one?” Syren asked. Nadia blushed at the title and nodded. “Yes.” was all she said. The paddle came down once more on the center of the young warrior’s backside. Nadia yelped out loudly and stood up, rubbing her reddened cheeks with a hiss and a wince. “Corner, dear.” Syren said as she set the board down. “Wh… what?” Nadia asked.

Syren only gestured to the nearest open corner. Nadia sighed softly and trudged to the corner. Her nose nearly against the wall as she stood there, rubbing her bottom.

It was then that a snicker came from the doorway. The young warrior blushed in her corner. Syren’s eyes snapped up to the audience still standing there. “Who was it?” she asked sharply. Four fingers immediately pointed to Mytheria. “Oh what the hell, you guys?” the redhead glares at her companions each in turn. Syren stepped over, took Mytheria by the wrist and pulled her into the kitchen.

Before Myth really knew what was going on, her loose pants had dropped to her ankles and her pale blue panties were tugged down around her knees thanks to Syren’s quick hands. She was marched right out of her pants and towards an empty corner. “If you want to snicker like a little child, you can join her.” Syren scolded as her free hand slapped the redhead’s pale bottom with each step to the corner.

Myth squeaked and jumped with each slap until she found her nose in the corner, her cheeks blushing, and her bottom stinging a bit. A few more swats caused Myth’s rear to bounce and turn a soft shade of pink before Syren left the redhead there to think about what she’d done. “Two pretty girls with their spanked bottoms on display.” Syren announced before looking to Rose, Kit, and Kaidia. “Do I need to add any others?” she asked sternly. Rose and Kit shook their heads vigorously. Kaidia just smirked and stepped away from the kitchen and headed back the way she’d come.

Syren gestured to the neko and the tavern girl. “You two. Dishes are in the cupboard in the dining room. Set the table, please.” Kai’s mother said with a warm smile. Neither woman wanting to be the next to feel their host’s motherly fury on their backsides, Rose and Kitiara scrambled to set the table.


Mytheria and Nadia were in their respective corners until dinner was served. They were allowed to wear their panties and pants again but they both sat gingerly at the dinner table, Nadia a bit more so than Myth. Despite sore bottoms on a pair of the attending guests, the dinner was great fun, filled with lively discussion, stories, and jokes.

Once the dishes were cleared and in the kitchen to be washed, everyone settled into the sitting room. Well, everyone except Kaidia and Nadia. No one could say where the two had gone but they didn’t worry. Instead, Syren and Boreth delighted the neko, the barmaid, and the redheaded thief with tales from Kai’s childhood as well as Nadia’s younger years.

Kaidia could hear the giggles from her little family of cast offs as Boreth told them some silly story from the warrior’s past. The laughter brought a faint smile to Kai’s lips as she stood on stone porch behind the house, looking out over the marketplace and poorer residential section of the city nestled below the high end residential neighborhood in which the two Valengaard homes stood. The city was a mass of twinkling lights from the torches that lit the doorways of businesses and homes to the light that glowed from within taverns and inns. Off in the distance, the woman could make out the looming shadow that was the massive wall that surrounded the city.

Kai was staring out toward the wall when Nadia came out onto the porch, grumbling and rubbing her bottom. “That old bitch knows how to swing that stupid board.” she muttered. Kai snickered. “You probably deserved it.” she replied. “Oh shut it.” Nadia huffed. The conversation paused as both women looked out over the city.

“You aren’t staying, are you?” Nadia asked quietly. “No.” Kai said with a shake of her head. “But you just got here.” the younger sibling whined softly. “And I’ll be gone by morning’s light.” Kai replied. “What about the girls?” Nadia questioned. “I will leave them a note. My house is big enough for them. There is no lack of gold within my home. They’ll be fine.” Kaidia answered. The younger sister just sighed. “You’ll find me when you want.” Kaidia said before turning and kissing Nadia’s forehead. With that, the warrior turned and walked off the porch and into the darkness of the night.

Little did Nadia know that in the not so distant future, her path would collide with her sister’s in a battle that could end the known world. But for tonight, the younger Valengaard sister stared up at the stars, enjoyed the soft breeze that caressed her face, and silently wished Kaidia safe travels.

Trusting the power of Domination and Submission

Trusting the power of Domination and Submission

Domination needs to trust in submission and well as submission has to trust in the domination. Look at it like this, If you had a disease, would you want a physician you could trust in? Of course, everyone answers Yes to this question. You would want to trust in your physician. Make sure he was creditable and cared for you. If you were going to give your self up, submit to a man or women, let them do what they want to your body, gentle or rough, would you want to give it to a person you did not trust. No

A goal should be to push limits. To push each others limits. Whether, your the Dominant, or a submissive, limits are a large element of what keep a relationship moving forward. Willingness to push a submissive’s limits should be a prerequisite as a dominant, and it is extremely important to recognize the value of a submissive pushing a dominant’s limits also. I believe it is a grave oversight for all involved, if willingness to push and explore limits on either side of the dominance or submissive realm is suppressed. The relationship goals you have will fail. People mistake and expect Dominant’s and submissive’s to be passive partners in sex and kink.

Equating passivity with submissiveness is stupid as equating power with penises. When willing to actively push a Dominant or submissive’s limits, everything sexual should heighten, and becomes more arousing fun. Consider looking at it like roleplaying or acting. However, this doesn’t mean demanding how the other is to push your limits. If your instructing “everything” being done to you, then your the Dominant. Some people refer this to “topping from the bottom”. Letting go of limits, and becoming submissive to them, opens your sexual gate, and hopefully breaks into the arousing stimulation a sexual encounter should be, ultimately fulfilling the goals.