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Saturday, September 1, 2012

Where'd You Go, Korey?!

Ah, my friends, I have moved--not just literally, either, but I've even moved domains. We (James and I) have finally started our own publishing company, and I made my blog off of the domain, and moved everything over there! 
Come visit me at koreymaejohnson.stormynightpublications.com!
See you there!!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Paddling in New Year’s Resolutions

I know what you're thinking—what the hell, right? Well, I've been a lot of places in a short period of time, trying to get things done all the while. I went to Oregon, Dallas, Florida—here, there, selling the house, blah, blah, blah. Every second of every day, however, seems to be tied up in finding A) A good ecommerce solution for an eBook store, B) a good programmer or C) Both.


Good programmers are a myth, by the way. If they're good, then they don't have time for customer service, which makes them unavailable, which makes them bad programmers. Show me a good ecommerce programmer (and email me) and I'll show you a man that has a job!

Okay, enough about your dull work life. I don't even care that you work in the spanking industry. Let's talk about spankings, already! Sheesh!


Okay, okay, okay. Fine.

I don't know where to start. I've gotten so many spankings since Christmas, I don't even know where to start! I mean, I get a spanking every single day anymore. It might be short, but it's still there. Today, I believe, has been my first spanking-free day all week.

…Details?


Details? Urgh! More like gripe. It's that damn spanking diet. I gained back some weight when I was on vacation, and James came down upon me with more rules, regulations, and punishments that I can shake a stick at. I'm at 150 now… So, 4 pounds up… Again. And I really don't think James is going to tolerate it any longer.

I got THE worst spanking EVER just this last Sunday. Mostly because I was eating cookies instead of lunch, eating "lunch" at 4 instead of before 1:30, and I barely ate breakfast. Oh—and I hadn't written a thing down in my food journal all day.

James was exasperated as he watched me enjoy my cookie. Which is hard to do—I think my cutest moments are when I'm enjoying cookies. Cookies are like happiness you can chew.

Anyway, he asked me if I had eaten lunch. I looked sheepishly down at my cookie. There was about to be a reckoning, I knew it, because my eyes lit up with all the crap I didn't do.

I think I go through periods of being absolutely the stupidest person on earth, is what the problem is. But he wasn't listening to the fact that I was stupid. I don't think things could have gone any worse than if I threw my cookie into his eye.

I was incredulous. He told me to go into the bedroom and take off all my clothes and put the paddle on the bed.

So, that's a bad start. I was nearly hyperventilating—the paddle?! I had done something so wrong as to require the paddle?! Without driving home drunk or taking hard drugs? Because I think that's the only time when I could understand the paddle. The paddle is a force which I still don't know how to accept.


Yet, I obeyed before the sentencing could get any worse. I don't know HOW it could get any worse, mind you, but I imagined that it could.

But, I have to admit, when he was lecturing me and listing the charges against me, I was nearly laughing. I was pretty ridiculous—and he was right—I wasn't taking my diet seriously enough. Which is probably why, after 10 years now of trying, I have not been able to obtain my goal weight.

So, he pulled me over his lap… (We have a new position, by the way! He takes the pillows away from the headboard, sits with his back up against the headboard of the bed, and pulls me across his knees. His leg is actually easier to position across my legs and he's better able to hold my arm in a way that it won't fly back though he doesn't have to twist my arm and risk hurting it. So, the pin-down works on all fronts.)

I was naked already so, needless to say, he didn't warm me up by spanking over my panties like he occasionally does. He was spanking SO hard I was actually thinking that he was thinking about not using the paddle, after all. If he was going to use the paddle, I thought, why would he be spanking so hard? Okay—I wasn't actually thinking—I was in crazed animal mode. But if I had been thinking, it would have been that. He was being dramatically thorough. He was getting my inner thighs, my upper thighs, in and out and all around—he was everywhere! My sitting area was just getting ruined.

And did I tell you about my beginning? Because I begged my ASS OFF. I was panicked before the spanking even began. I tried to think my way out of this situation. I understood I needed to be punished… But spanking? Why must it ALWAYS come to spanking? Aren't there other punishments? I was a fountain of ideas—I'd heard of people getting grounded, or stripped away of privileges. Butt plugs? I'd have even taken an enema at that moment. I didn't care. Anything but a paddling. Anyway—it was like negotiating with a wall. James had already made up his mind.

After the spanking ended, I had even considered escaping. Running to the car naked. Because, as soon as he finished and told me I could get up and stand in the corner, he told me, "This is just a small break before the paddling."

Ohhhhh! Nooo….

It wasn't over?! It… Wasn't… Urgh! I was wishing I could faint on call. Maybe THAT would get him to loosen up. I wasn't crying yet, but I was surprised that I wasn't. Is it possible to be so mind-boggled by your punishment that you can't really cry?

As I was thinking this, I was called out for "Round 2". Oh! Why did I eat that cookie? I knew it wouldn't quench my hunger! I had planned to eat a sandwich afterwards—why didn't I switch the eating order? Why am I so brain-dead when remembering to update my food journal?! Why?

Personal pity-parties don't make you feel any better about a paddling at-hand. They just make the whole thing even worse, somehow, like focusing on the "what I could have done" magnifies the whole situation. But I couldn't help it. I just kept on thinking, "Why, why, why?!"

Because the paddle was every bit as terrifying as I remembered it. There's nothing good about the sharp cracking feeling across my flesh. It's like a lightning bolt against the ass. And he only gave me SIX—six horrible, ugly, gut-wrenching smacks. I don't know what the neighbors were thinking about all this, but I KNEW they could hear me. Who couldn't? YOU ALL probably heard me and only thought it was the wind. Because I was truly that loud.

When he sent me back into the corner, I practically ran there, trying to catch my breath. Again—no tears. Maybe I'm dysfunctional? Because it was the worst spanking I had in memory. I stood in my corner with my ass throbbing, thanking God that it was over. I was almost elated—no. I WAS DEFINITELY elated. I could sing songs. I was so scared, and now I was so warm, so wonderfully punished. It was behind me.

James cuddled me while I was in the corner, and then took a picture of my bottom (he's been doing that all week—he wants to make a photo collection). I would post it, because I'm nearly proud of how red my ass was, but I still don't like the look of my love-handles from behind so I'll hold out.

Anyway, lots of spanking-blog to come, guys! Thanks for hanging with me!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Spanking Through the Diet….


Well, when it comes to the Spanking Diet… It's been working FANTASTICALLY. I mean—wow.

So, when I came home from Thanksgiving in Portland, I weighted 154. Urgh.. BUT before I left for Galveston Island this weekend (James wanted me to go on a "date weekend" with him) I weighted 146. 146! To highlight the significance, ya'll—I haven't weighed 146 since high school. I was 151 when I went to college, and I felt like I looked pretty good—definitely better than in the middle of college when I weighed 185. Ouch.

So, AMAZING progress!

Has it been easy?

No, the spanking diet sucks. It's really not something to enjoy, per se. It's just something to do when all else fails. I've got my ass pounded on the last few weeks. There's so much that can go amuck for me—I could forget to write down something I've eaten within an hour of eating it, I could not eat breakfast or lunch, I could eat too many servings of a meal or too many snacks or cookies, or I can just shoot James a horribly nasty glare when he gives me advice. All of that winds up the same way.

Sort of—if I mess up on a meal again, I'll probably get the paddle next time. Or so James claims. It's because he has to get stricter and stricter so I take high regard in this diet.

I don't know how loudly I can complain. As I've said—it's worked. Hallelujah.

Hopefully I'll be at 130, my goal weight, before I know it.

Alright, so, you know you need to post more often right?

That fact has not eluded me. I'm at my in-laws right now, trying to type this out as fast as I possibly can, but I will get more into it. I've had so many spankings! So many thoughts! So many things are happening! I just wish I had a more secretive way of blogging that doesn't require me hauling out by well-used 17-inch screened laptop.

I have to get going—everyone's going out to lunch. I'll add more later!
Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Birthday, Thanksgiving, & Portland? Oh, My!



Yep. That's why I haven't written in a week… Saturday the 21st, I turned the big 2-5. My parents gave me eye-cream for my already coming-in crow's feet. (James says we're imagining it, but I definitely don't look like I'm 18 anymore. I'm aging, and it sucks.)

We went up to Portland for Thanksgiving the day after and stayed there until I came home Monday morning after an all-night flight. There was a lot of dangers there for a spoiled woman like myself:

1) I'm defensive when I'm up there. My parents were actually well-behaved, but I felt like I was making up for lost time. Normally they're pretty insulting towards me (not that they mean to be bad-natured, they just like to pick on people), but this time, not so much. So, I think I overly teased them, as is my normal demeanor when I'm there.

2) Diet? Forget about it. It possibly started at Outback Steakhouse on my birthday—the gorging festivities—but it probably actually started when I went out with James' best friend's wife to a double feature of the new and old Twilight movies on the 19th, where I feasted on a large Dr. Pepper, popcorn, and M&Ms. I *shared* them (not the Dr. Pepper), but I imagine I still added at least 3,000 calories to a place where they didn't need to go. My stomach.

Afterwards—crab fests (Dungeness crab is in season there), chocolate cheesecake, Thanksgiving, French bread at every meal… Makes me wonder why I wasn't fatter when I was young. James and I joke that we ate so richly last week, we were lucky that all we gained was weight. We're lucky we didn't walk away with the gout.

3) Spankings? Ha. Where could we do it? My parents are INCREDIBLY nosy and we don't have a car up there. We can't even have *sex* in my family's house, for god sakes. We tried, mind you, while they were out, but then my father came home from work early and started calling our names, and seemed generally hurt that we didn't answer right away, like we were avoiding him or something. We had sex only once. In the middle of the night, to the sounds of their snoring… Sigh. Anyway, in case you didn't get the hint: spanking = impossibility.

4) James was sick… The whole time. He's still a little sick. Hopefully he doesn't have bronchitis or swine flu. I might be getting a touch of something myself. Anyway, when James is sick, James doesn't do well at roasting my tush anyway. He likes to lecture, and he can't do that amongst the coughs and the sneezing.

BUT NOW? NOW WILL SPANKINGS COMMENCE?


I suppose so. James told me that he expects that I make a food journal and actually maintain a healthy diet to write in it by the time he gets home from work. I have a huge pile of laundry that he expects done AND I have to write, because I have a short story due at SpankingRomance.com this week, and he wants me to write at least a chapter's worth before bed tonight, "or else". So—there's definitely potential.

The dieting, to me, is most important. Yeah, I like to make Christmas cookies, but I need to behave. We're going to Florida next month and I don't want to look like a cow when I'm there. I need to lose any weight I gained in Oregon, plus some. And I can do it. Stay tuned.