Spank Notes

Steering Back On Course

2010-02-03T20:36:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone,

Back to posting. J Do you know why it takes me so long to post, funny enough, besides the obvious time constraints and the fact that I'm a workaholic? Pictures. I worry about having enough pictures for the blog, or trying to get the right pictures to work.

In the last five minutes, I decided I was ridiculous, and moreover, that it was a poor excuse. I mean, I think you guys would be happy with pictures of bunny rabbits if I would just post more often.

Also, I have been having major problems with my wrists since October, which got REALLY bad in December, and continued to get even worse in January. Now, I'm just always in constant pain. I finally have a desk, though, with wrist supports (though I've been wearing wrist-bands since December), a new desk, a new mouse, etc, and I think I'm ready to rock and roll here. Before, all I had as far as hardware went was a longue chair and a laptop. That's it! Now, I feel like I have all this high-tech stuff. And a desk? They're sooo useful. I love it. So, I love working even more now… That's sort of dangerous, but there you go.

Back to spanking, shall we?

We shall. I spend too much time talking to my husband about all my spanking theories and topics on spanking that I forget to blog about it. I think I just plumb talk myself out until I'm too tired to talk any more about it at all. Not that I don't see it all day every day. I've spoken to you all before that I think I'm slowly becoming desensitized when it came to spanking. It used to be something that I was SO ashamed about. I used to hide all my favorites, all my browsing history, all my books… I used to blush just by thinking about it.

Now, on my desktop, I have a big ass file that says "SPANKING". Right there in view. I don't cover up my steps at all anymore except to try to keep my spanking identity away from my real identity. Just in case I want to go into politics one day. But that's it.

SPANKING DIET

My diet has been going well and not well. I haven't been spanked for the spanking diet at all the last couple of weeks. Because I've been absolutely flawless in my approach to dieting. I've been working out every day; my food journal is spot-on perfect. I'm not losing any weight, however. James assures me that he's beginning to notice a difference, but I can't see it. I meant to be 140 by now, but I'm still 147. I've told you before that James won't spank me because my weight won't decrease.

He's right to make that decision—I might be dead by now. My weight fluxuates like crazy. The only way I can judge is by "the weekly low". So, the only way to do the diet is by me following the rules.

But GOSH I wish to rules were working better.

SPANKING SITES:

I hate to advertise at all, but I'm SO proud of redoing CFPub-online.com that I must tell the world. It's awesome—you can re-download your site, and the backend that I get to use is awesome because I can actually start using some purchaser demographics where I can actually pinpoint my market. It will be fabulous.

Anyway—I think it's WAY better than it was. Not that I had much of a choice—I couldn't keep the store on the server and the store software doesn't exist how it was, but it was so old this new server wouldn't support it. So—there ya go.

We're planning to do something similar with "BlushingBooks.com" by combining RomanticSpankings.com and spankbooks.com into the same store and making all of our stuff available in different formats for all sorts of e-Reading devices, since we KNOW that's what millions of people got for Christmas this year. Anyway—Korey's gonna be BUSY.

BUT I have GOT to see if there's a Texas All-State spanking party this year. Bethany wants me to set up a vendor's table there and sell books and videos, and I am just DYING of curiosity, as I've said last year, about what happens at those things. James, I think, would come with me to help out and keep me company. I hope everyone goes, though, if there is one.

Anyway, check up with me in a few. Now that it's so much less painful to type, I'll be blogging more often.

Another Spanking Story, Another Sneak Peak…

2010-01-18T07:00:00.000-08:00

Hi All,
So… You know that month-long hiatus I took last month? It was mostly because I was writing a Christmas story for Spanking Romance, which is a membership right that posts a fully-complete novella every week. I took a turn with a Christmas story called "Christmas Awakening". I would be THRILLED if you would join up and read the rest with one of our month-long memberships.

OR… Pursuit of Glory has only sold 26 copies so far on RomanticSpankings.com… C'mon, guys! I PROMISE it's good, okay? Please, please, please! Buy it? It's only 6 bucks for a WHOLE LOT of story!
Here's the sneak peak of Christmas Awakening:

Chapter One

Jack Fawkes sighed as he pulled into Maggie's driveway with a Christmas wreath on the front seat next to him. He looked down at it as if the dead, festive tree-branch was mocking him. The truth was that he just didn't feel very Christmasy; he was religious and respected the holiday's importance — for the sake of the townsfolk he found himself even pretending to be into the holiday spirit.

He was lonely, and he was in his thirties, and he was about to get snubbed by Joanna Menard when he walked into the house — he just knew it. With any other girl, some snobbery wouldn't move him at all. He was the town Sherriff and was used to being known as the 'bad guy'. But Joanna had a way about her that made him feel two feet tall — which he was sure was her plan.

"Time to get it over with," he said, grabbing the wreath as he left his car.

Maggie liked him, though. In fact, Maggie was a surrogate mother to him while he was in his teens. When his mother was fighting cancer, and eventually died from it, she was always there to make sure his father, his brother, and he didn't die of starvation. She would also snoop enough to make sure he and his brother didn't get into any amount of regrettable trouble, which he appreciated even today — hence the wreath.

He knocked on the door and put on a grin in preparation for the door being answered. He could hear the sound of someone coming near. Then, he heard a muffled voice say, "Oh, Lord. It's him."

"Who?" was a much more distant, nearly inaudible, answer.

"Jack."

"Well, answer it and lead him back here. I'm elbow deep in cookie dough!"

The door's lock clicked and the door opened wide, revealing Jo, who was more gorgeous than ever with her glassy emerald eyes and her long, dark brown hair draped over both shoulders. Despite it being mid-morning, she was still in a black t-shirt, flannel pajama bottoms, and huge slippers that resembled milk cows. Her expression was even less welcoming than her outfit, however, and she seemed to groan through her eyes.

"Hi," she said wearily.

"Hey Jo," he replied with a friendly grin. "Nice slippers," he teased lightly, looking for some sort of conversation that might make her smile.

"Nice hat," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She didn't even have to gesture to the fluffy flap-hat he was wearing. She stepped aside to let him inside the house, closing the door behind him.

"It is nice," he assured, trying to take anything she told him with a light attitude. "It's warm. It's perfect. Don't know what I'd do without it."

"I'm sure your life feels very complete," she droned, rolling her eyes as she turned away from him and began to walk towards the kitchen. "She's this way," she informed over her shoulder.

He struggled to take off his shoes and said, "So, you done with college?" He was desperate to make any sort of conversation with her.

"Yeah," she answered, standing still so that he could catch up to her lead. "Art degree managed."

"4.0!" her aunt called from the kitchen proudly.

"Wow," he said, genuinely impressed. "Great job," he encouraged with a grin.

Jo blushed and looked away from him again. "It's just an art degree," she shrugged. "And it took me four and a half years to get it," she said as if it lessened the achievement. "It's no big deal."

"Do you know what you want to do now?"

Jo turned to him slowly, putting on a robotic-like stare.

In actuality, Jo couldn't get over why he was asking these questions at all, except to either mock her or be polite. In essence, she had ended and disregarded all of their past friendly relationship, and felt he had to be relieved by her doing so. Why was he set on continuing to waste her time with automaton questions? "No," she answered, and led him into the kitchen. She opened her arms and presented him like she was selling a new appliance to her old aunt, who was balling up cookie dough into balls. "There he is! Now, I'm off to the shower. If I don't come back in an hour, send a search party."

Crestfallen inwardly, Jack simply watched as Jo shuffled silently out of the room without so much as a 'goodbye'.

"Merry Christmas, Jack," Maggie said, her face bright with smiles and wrinkles. She walked over to him with her arms outstretched and tried to hug this man who was easily a foot taller than she was.

"Merry Christmas," he said, picking up the wreath and waving it. "Or, Merry Christmas in three days, I should say." He winked at her playfully.

She clapped her hands together excitedly. "Excellent! Thanks so much! Put it on the table. I'd take it, but I'm sticky with cookie dough."

"Well, thanks for hugging me then," he teased.

She waved at him dismissively. "I didn't get you," she assured with a chiding smirk. "How are you these days? You haven't visited in two weeks now!

"Yeah, well… I wanted Jo to become situated before I came up," he admitted, looking over at the kitchen island where a large scattering of several different types of cookies sat.

She watched him scavenge for food with interest for a moment before she said, "You know, Jo's single and here for awhile… Why don't you try asking her out? Maybe for a cup of coffee or something?"

He chuckled. So, Maggie could tell that he was interested in her niece. He wasn't too surprised. Maggie always seemed able to read someone's intentions in a matter of seconds. He was never able to lie to her. "Because she might take a swing at me!" He stole a cookie and took a big bite. Afterwards, he walked towards the fridge and took out some milk — just like he used to do as a teenager — eat and run. But Maggie, for whatever the reason, liked it.

"She's interested," Maggie enlightened with a quiet voice. "Oh, she's too stubborn to admit it. But I've seen the way she looks at you."

"Like I'm diseased?" he said with a full mouth, unable to let what Maggie was trying to say penetrate his skin. There was simply no way Jo was interested in him, as painful as it was to swallow, and all the wishful thinking in the world from her aunt wasn't going to make a bit of difference. "No, I'm afraid I ruined it."

"If you're suggesting that she won't talk to you because once upon a time you spanked her, you've got another thing coming," Maggie assured firmly, trying to accentuate her seriousness by pointing a chunk of cookie dough at him. "You hurt her feelings somehow. She holds onto a grudge, but she never stopped liking you. I think you just have to be… a little persistent. Look, you need to come over and woo her. Try to crack that hard shell of hers. I'm not telling you that you have to be nice, either. But sincere and honest won't hurt. She's smart, but she can be as thick as a brick. As can you."

Reaching for a second cookie, he said, "I don't know, Maggie. I think you're seeing something that just isn't there," he admitted, then sucked air through his teeth as she snapped him on the back of his hand with a wooden spoon.

"Don't be a pig," she said. "I'm sending Jo to deliver cookies today. You're on the list," she promised. "Why don't you come up and have Christmas dinner with the Ruarks, Jo and me?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "Hm, well… As much as I like your next door neighbors, Mag, the feeling's not exactly mutual since last week, when I busted little Kevin with a DWI. That would create a little bit of awkwardness, I'd say."

She rolled her eyes. "You just are no good at politics, Jack," she said with a grin, shaking her head. "But you're a good boy."

"Maggie — I'm thirty two," Jack reminded with good humor.

"Oh, God! I feel so old," Maggie sighed exasperatedly.

"I wouldn't worry about me being anywhere for Christmas, anyway," he mentioned pessimistically. "I'm gonna be snowed in, supposedly. So are you, in fact. You'll be able to make it to the Ruarks, but not into town, for certain. Remember? I've told you before--we've got reports of a huge ice and snow storm heading our way. We'll be buried so if you need to do something, make sure it's done before mid-afternoon. That's when it's gonna hit."

"You don't have to work?" she asked, or rather, hoped. Like a mother, she worried incessantly about Jack, and she would only worry more if he had to drive roads in horrible conditions in the middle of nowhere; ambulances were famous for not even making trips up to the mountain during storms. It was as if the town would be cut off from the world.

"No. I have the day off," he said, though he didn't sound too happy about it.

"Well, maybe some time to yourself is what you need this year, Jack," Maggie mentioned wisely. "I think you need to do some soul-searching, Honey. I know you're unhappy."

He was suddenly getting uncomfortable about how pensive Maggie was getting in her old age. "I'm happy. Perfectly, wonderfully gaga about life," he exaggerated, wishing with all his might it was true.

She sighed and raised an eyebrow. Finally, she just threw her hands in the air as if she surrendered. "Alright, alright, I'll keep out of it," she promised. "It's your life…"

"That's right," he said with a nod. "It's my life…. And my cookie." He mischievously snatched his hand out and grabbed a cookie before she could react. Then he walked over and kissed her on the cheek before he turned to leave, shoving the cookie in his mouth as he did so. "Merry Christmas if I don't see you 'til after. Call me if you have any emergencies," he offered, but he had a feeling she wouldn't. Maggie's house was stable, her pantries were stocked better than most castles, and although she had a bad hip, she had close neighbors and a niece to ease up her chores and keep her from hurting herself.

He knew that she was right, though — he did need to do some soul-searching over the break. His life wasn't turning out like he hoped it would. He became Sherriff when he was twenty-eight, but it didn't seem like he had progressed much after that. He needed a big change; he just didn't know what that was going to be. That was simply going to have to be his Christmas Wish—if such a thing existed—figuring out what that change was going to be.

* * *

Jo stood motionlessly in the shower, deep in thought, just letting the hot water flow over her.

Whenever she saw Jack she could barely think of anything else for a long time. She hated how her emotions were so conflicting. On the one hand, she didn't want anything to do with him, on the other, she thought he was the most gorgeous, wonderful man alive.

She figured most of the things that made her nearly swoon when she saw him were only emotional remnants of her past. Before she was eighteen, she thought the man walked on water. He was nearly ten years older than she was, and acted like he was twenty years older. When she was sixteen, it already seemed like Jack had his life figured completely out. He was fresh out of the military, after serving two terms, and it seemed like everything he did, and everything he said, was just good — pure and simple.

She wasn't alone in her thinking, either. All the other girls in her high school felt the same way about him. It was impossible not to. Jack was tall, had a fine, chiseled body, a hard jaw line, sharp, piercing blue eyes… Everyone thought that he was all that is man.

And, out of all the girls in town, she was the one that got to see the most of him. Because of his connection to her aunt he seemed to take extremely kindly to her, and oozed attention on her. She figured now, that was because he was trying to help her get through the shock of her parents' death — maybe because he related to it a little himself. His mother died when he was a teenager as well, and he was no stranger to grieving.

He spoiled her, which was exactly what she needed at the time. He would bring her thoughtful little gifts, take her out to movies, and drive her to Bend, Oregon to go shopping. He would even pick her up and drop her off at school constantly, making her the envy of every girl she knew.

She hadn't been a good student before her parents' car accident; she hadn't been a good kid, actually. But Jack did seem to keep her focused — enough to get good enough grades for college. And her world had seemed more and more right every day, even though the high school crowd that existed in the small town was quite a rough bunch, and it was hard to stay out of trouble.

By the time she was a senior she was well liked enough to get invited to everything—every party, every camping trip, every concert. Maggie was oblivious, and she kept Jack, who was the town's sheriff by then, as much at bay as she could. But the more she separated herself from him, the more suspicious he became.

Suspicious or not, and however much he seemed to be on her case, she loved it. And she came to realize that she was in love with him. And since she was at that age where everyone seemed to be hooking up in the back of old Chevy trucks, or underneath the football bleachers, she decided that she wanted Jack Fawkes to be her first — who else was more perfect? No one else was as appealing in any form, No one held the type of magic she felt Jack was capable of. And he spent so much time with her, she felt that she wasn't too off-base in thinking along those lines.

The perfect opportunity to plan such an event was when her aunt left for a whole week in January of her senior year. There was no better time; she was eighteen, she was alone, she had a whole house to herself… There would be plenty of time to seduce Jack.

Of course, as soon as the rest of her friends got wind of the fact that she wouldn't be inconvenienced by her Aunt's watchful eye for a whole week, they got her to take up other interests as well. She had a lot of time on her hands, and she figured Jack simply couldn't stop by half as often as she even wished he would. He worked, after all.

Maggie had left Saturday morning, and by Saturday afternoon her girlfriends and her were already hanging around the house with a cabinet full of liquor and a Ziploc full of weed; giggling with each other and talking about boys in their class. Until Jane actually called one of the boys, and in return, got them all invited to go up to the ski slopes with boys. They were expected to provide the booze, of course, which, thanks to Maggie not locking up the liquor cabinet, seemed like a pretty fair plan.

Just as they had hauled the cooler into the back of her aunt's Chevy, however, the sound of tires at the bottom of the driveway made them all think incredibly sober thoughts, very quickly.

Jack strolled down the driveway with his hands in his pockets, but the closer he got, the more suspicious his expression became. Although she noted to herself that it was probably just paranoia brought on from being hammered, Jo felt that his blue eyes fixated on her a little too carefully.

"Hi, Jack!" she welcomed with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "How ya doin'?" she asked sing-songishly, tilting her head innocently and even batting her long eye lashes.

"Just checking on you," he answered honestly, looking towards the house, and then looking back at them. "You girls off somewhere?"

Jo looked over at the girls — Jane and Mary swooned in silence for a moment before one of them answered shyly, "Yeah… We're off to meet Russell and Peter at the slopes."

"Sounds like fun," he replied off-handedly, his eyes going from girl to girl. "You remembered to turn off the stove and everything, right?" he asked Jo as he started to walk towards the house. He turned his head over his shoulder as he asked, "And the heater?"

""I forgot the heater." Jo hiccupped once, but she passed it off smoothly by coughing. The girls were having trouble restraining a nervous giggle. "Can you turn it off for me, Jack? We're kinda in a hurry."

"Sure," he said. "I'll turn it off. But hold on," Jack said from the front porch before disappearing into the house.

Mary and Jane looked over at Jo with extremely nervous expressions, despite their maniacal grins that they didn't seem to be able to batten down inside themselves. "He's alright," Jo assured with a relaxed wave of her mitten. "He's probably just coming back out to tell us to turn on the headlights and to wear our seatbelts." Jo rolled her eyes, but added with adoration as she looked towards the house, "It's like he thinks I'm five."

The girls giggled, were now more at ease and began to file into the truck. Jack seemed to be in there for quite a few minutes before he came back out, just as Jo was checking which of the dozen pockets of her winter coat she might have left the keys in.

He walked right up to her driver's side window and opened her door. And, with absolutely no pause about him, he reached across and took off her safety belt, fluidly yanking her out of the car by her upper arm. "Everybody out," he ordered the other two girls, pointing at the far side of the car while he kept his hand tightly wrapped around Jo's arm. He wheeled her over to the back of the truck just in time to meet the other girls there, who now had no smile about them at all, only nervous grimaces.

He released Jo roughly and opened the back of the Chevy. He reached into the truck with an angry grunting noise, grabbed the cooler inside, and dragged it toward him before opening it.

Jo hiccupped again, wondering if she had ever been so nervous or ashamed. She looked over at the girls, and although all their expressions conveyed anxiety, they also had a look of resolve to all of them that seemed to communicate that none of them were allowed to break down and admit to anything.

They watched silently as he opened the cooler, looked inside, then closed it again.

He heaved a loud, disappointed sigh before he slowly turned back around and crossed his arms, looking at them all accusingly, but especially Jo. "Well, Miss Menard? Do you have any amazingly riveting reason for having Maggie's entire bar in that cooler?"

Red faced and guilty, Jo realized that she didn't have the will to look him straight in the face. Her eyes lowered, instead, to the area around his navel.

"I didn't think so," he said. "Minor in possession?" He snorted and shook his head in disappointment. He held out his hand. "Give me the keys, Jo. I'm driving your friends home. Playdate over. Wherever you kids were going is not where you need to be."

With an angry, thwarted huff, and finding no way to defy him, Jo checked her coat pockets again until she finally found the keys in her pants. She walked up to him and put the keys roughly into his open hand. It seemed like, very suddenly, his facial expression fell from disappointed to angry. Quick as a flash, he grabbed her coat and took a couple of hard sniffs of her. She blushed at the audacity, or from whatever it was she just did that tipped him off to investigate her further.

"Have you already been drinking?" he asked her warily.

"No," she lied stoutly, glaring at him."

"Do you want me to get my Breathalyzer?" he challenged further.

She could have sworn she heard one of the girls gulp, but she wasn't too alarmed by the threat — she would have liked him to go search his car for his breathalyzer, if he even had it in there. She could have then had time to go behind a bush and use her very impressive gag-reflex to get rid of the evidence, eaten some snow, chewed a mint and been back in time to evade his wrath. "Go ahead," she dared. "We haven't been doing anything. We weren't even going to drink it. We were going to watch the boys do it."

"Uh huh," he said disbelievingly, letting go of her jacket. His eyebrows went up for a long moment as he stared her down. She knew he was upset; there was a vein in his neck she had never seen before, and she hadn't ever seen him lock his jaw like that. But then, he finally just pulled the arm of his jacket over his watch to look at it. "Alright. You'd better make it to ten. Stand on one foot… All of you."

Jane and Mary definitely gulped this time.

"Ready?" he asked, eyeing them. Jo, unlike the other two girls, looked strongly confident. "Go. One—"

No one ever thinks they'd actually be drunk enough not to be able to stand on one foot for ten seconds. Jo, in particular, was specifically peppy about the challenge. Then, unfortunately, she realized how good of a test it was.

She couldn't even balance herself to the ending of the word "one". Whether Jane or Mary could have lasted longer was never discovered, because as soon as Jo failed, Jack grabbed the scruff of her jacket and hauled her over to the trunk of the Chevy.

Before she even knew what his intentions were, he had quickly and effectively unzipped the front of her pants, moving faster than she thought possible. Less than half a second later, she was draped bare-assed over his lap with a horror-struck expression on her face. When she looked for help from her friends, she could tell they weren't even going to move, They were paralyzed with shock and guilty fascination.

He spanked with purpose, raising his hand high and bringing it down mercilessly upon her bare flesh as she squeaked and tried to buck and wiggle off of his lap for want of her life. Even now, she could still remember what he ranted while he put her tail aflame.

"You can think you're put on this world to do whatever you want, Joanna Lynn Menard, but you will not drive drunk in my town. It makes me sick that as soon as your aunt leaves you alone for a second, you could think about throwing all that trust away and endanger your life and the lives of your friends!" By then, he had given her at least ten spanks, and it didn't seem to her that he sounded like he was anywhere near done.

She was right; as soon as she put back one of her mitten-covered hands behind her in attempt to shield herself, she merely succeeded in getting her hand pinned to her lower back by his free hand.

"Please… Please stop! Stop this!" She was drunk, but well aware of how utterly humiliating it was to be chastised — not only like a small child, not only at eighteen years or age, but in front of two of her closest friends. Those friends, by the way, were completely worthless to her at the moment. They obviously weren't even considering any sort of intervention. They looked more like they had been hit by a bolt of lightning, and were probably praying that they weren't next.

Jack's hand was very large, very strong, and did a very efficient job at causing her a whole lot of pain. She felt that she was unable to deal with the sort of pain she was receiving; she didn't think she had ever been in so much of it. She couldn't in a thousand years compare it to any sunburn she had ever had or with any scratch she had ever received. This pain was unbearable… and shocking… and lingering.

In no time at all, she was reduced to tears; she apologized. She apologized for everything else she had ever done—every lie, every prank she ever committed, ever being drunk at all. She promised, in fact, never to do anything else wrong for the rest of her life. Halfway through this pathetic pile of apologies, as if there were magic words out there that could make this assault stop, her cries went from sharp screams to breathy sobs, complete with eyefuls of tears.

It didn't deter Jack. As she sobbed, he carried out at least fifteen more smacks before he helped her rise off of his strong knees, where she modestly turned quickly away from him to pull up her pants gingerly over her scalding flesh, still feeling unable to stop crying, or to take a normal breath.

She finally made eye contact with him, although she dreaded doing so, and found that there was absolutely nothing apologetic or even sympathetic about his expression. His face was hard as stone, with no remorse to be found anywhere about him. "I want you to keep out of trouble, you hear?" he said shallowly.

Wiping a mitten across her face to clean her tears off, she nodded.

"Alright. Say goodbye to your friends, get in the house and stay there until I get back. You and I are going to have a long talk about driving safely, little girl," he informed, then watched as she turned to her friends, who were still stunned beyond words, with their faces as white as a sheet of paper…

Nearly five years later, the memory still made Jo's cheeks blush. Though, she was in luck — neither Jane nor Mary ever told a soul about anything that had happened. They blamed not making it up to the slopes on a flat tire, and they had never brought it up with each other since.

That day, she went inside the house, locked the doors, and cried herself to sleep. Jack had come by, that she knew, because there was a blanket over her when she woke up. The next day, he came by, hoping that she would go to church with him. She refused. She vowed she would never go anywhere with him again.

She fell deaf to his explanations of why she deserved the spanking, and even Maggie, who Jack confessed the whole matter to, openly told her that she backed him up. But she was already too hurt to ever forgive him.

Jo's dream was over that day. Not so much because of the embarrassment he caused, or even from the spanking itself — but because the spanking gave her traumatic insight into how he must have seen her. She had been Jack's project; his charity case. He obviously viewed himself as more of a babysitter of her than even a friend. How could he love someone he viewed to be a child? Certainly, she decided, not in the way she wanted to be loved by him.

She felt how hard her nipples were getting at the memory, how heated her loins were, and groaned. The most horrible thing about the spanking memory was how it aroused her, how it excited her.

"What the hell's wrong with me?" she snapped at herself, banging her head in frustration against the shower. How could such a thing have aroused her so much for so long? How could she have Jack in authority over her, but still have him see her romantically, and not like some kid?

You can't, her mind informed her harshly. You can't have both. And you shouldn't like a chauvinistic, narcissistic, woman-beater like Jack Fawkes anyway. What's the matter with you? Are you a masochist? No? Then get with the program!

It was then Jo realized that she had been so in thought that she had shampooed twice.

She sighed. This man will be the death of me.

Paddling in New Year’s Resolutions

2010-01-13T20:25:00.000-08:00

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!

Spanking Through the Diet….

2009-12-22T09:37:00.000-08:00

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!

Birthday, Thanksgiving, & Portland? Oh, My!

2009-12-02T09:29:00.000-08:00

Yep. That's why I haven't written in a week… Saturday the 21^st, 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.

A Special Peek at Korey’s Spanking Fiction

2009-11-19T08:00:00.000-08:00

Alright, y'all: I promised you a taste of spanking fiction. Here it is; it's posted nowhere else… Of course, you'll have to buy it to read the rest! Warm up on Chapter One as well!

Chapter Three

She looked up at the doctor for a second, who was obviously shocked by the revelation. Now, he looked even closer at her face than before. This wasn't too surprising—the Weather family was quite well-known, particularly in Kingstown, so she thought nothing of it, but when she finally looked at the pale blue eyes of the ship's captain—or admiral, rather, she understood he didn't care for who she was one iota.

"What the devil are you doing here, girl?" snapped Logan Liam firmly, looking very unhappy to meet her acquaintance again.

She looked up from the ground at his angry eyes for a moment, but she didn't know how to respond, so she looked back down at her small black slippers instead. "I just—" she began, very quietly.

"What, what?" he mocked sharply. "Speak up, Miss Weather. I'm sure your excuse will be quite entertaining for everyone."

"I didn't know whose ship I was getting on to," she assured snappishly, not liking being talked to in this way, particularly because Logan Liam was not her father. Her blushing cheeks and angry stare gave away her embarrassment from his mockery.

He was coming up with a furious response to her excuse, she could tell, but his mate interrupted it. "Should we give the standard punishment for stowaways, Sir?" Caldwell asked professionally.

If Logan even considered giving her the 'standard punishment,' he didn't look like he had. In fact, he looked like he was quite agitated that Caldwell had even mentioned it. He looked at him as if he had told an ill-timed, unappreciated joke. "Yes, Mr. Caldwell. Standard punishment. Let's take the High General Weather's daughter, bare her, and whip her hard enough to spatter some of her blood about the deck."

Caldwell bit his lip and motioned for soldiers to take her arms. Renny's eyes widened and she tried to scramble backwards. Logan sighed exasperatedly and snapped, "I was being facetious, Mr. Caldwell." It amazed him that a man serving under him for ten years couldn't tell when he was and wasn't being serious.

Renny calmed immediately, though she seemed to understand that her sin was quite serious by the way she hung her head.

"We are gentlemen, Mr. Caldwell. We will act like gentlemen." Logan looked into Renny's inquisitive eyes, which were looking for some sort of forgiveness and acceptance that she would not be getting out of him. "See that Miss Weather is taken down to my cabin, and give her anything she requires." With that, the admiral disappeared back to wherever he came from.

Caldwell cleared his throat, looking quite put out from the admiral talking down to him so, but straightened himself and turned to the doctor. "Is she alright, Sir?" he asked her.

"Hm?" said the doctor, looking very distracted before he settled himself. "Oh, yes, she's well. She'll be even better with some good sleep and some water." He looked at her very directly for a second, but then turned away without another word.

Caldwell sighed, and offered his hand to help Renny into standing. "If you would follow me, Miss Weather?"

Feeling her legs stretch both painfully and happily under her, she slid off of her seat and allowed herself to be escorted down to the captain's cabin.

As Logan finished his checks and duties, Renny never for a moment escaped his thoughts. Half the time, when thinking of her, his jaw locked in frustration, and other times he found himself quite pleased. At least she wasn't discovered the night before—he hardly had a rash thought in his head reserved for the company of women. But still he didn't like that he would now have to make sure that she was protected and well provided for. Henry LaNosse, the doctor on the ship, would no doubt help him—after all, he used to be a Weather, and was Sirius' eldest, but he could tell that neither of them had recognized each other, and it was hardly a time for family reunions.

The fact was Logan didn't like women aboard ships—especially ships of war. There was too much danger, particularly in battle where women were helpless and vulnerable. It would be more awful if they were defeated and Renny's virginity was taken by a lowly, lusty sailor. The thought enraged him and he told himself that Renny could, under no circumstances, be harmed or even touched, not even by him. He would give the young noble woman back to her close family in one piece, whether he died doing it or not.

Finally, grumbling to himself, he told his mate that he would be in his cabin for the rest of the evening.

When Admiral Liam entered his cabin and looked about, he was startled by not seeing her immediately and was on his way back out to call a search for her before he heard a hum across the room. It suddenly came to his attention that a privacy screen had been put up. He walked closer to it where he noticed, with much delight, he could vaguely see Renny's silhouette behind the sheet, running a sponge over her body.

He knew it wasn't appropriate to watch her, but the old sailor in him couldn't help enjoying it. "You seem a little too happy," he observed, standing close to the sheet, secretly hoping to see more of her.

"Ecstatic would be a more appropriate word for it," she admitted proudly. Obviously unable to notice that she could be even slightly seen through the sheet, she began to wash her hair from the bowl of soap and freshwater she had been given. "It feels so good being able to clean myself. It was so hot in that barrel."

He raised a concerned eye, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it. "I'm sure it was. I hate to hear of any discomforts you have had to bear, Miss Weather, but—" he wanted to let her know that her happiness was not going to be long-lived, and that unless an astonishingly good reason was given for sneaking onto the ship in the horrible way she had, he was going to have to chastise her viciously, making being outside of the hot barrel also discomforting.

"Could I ask you to hand me my dress, Admiral? I've laid it out on your bed, which might as well be in another world for all the good it does me over there," she interrupted with a light chuckle as he watched her silhouette wringing out her soft curls.

He sighed, hating to be treated like a female servant, but he found himself grabbing the garment and carefully bringing it over to her. She looked around the edge of the sheet and grabbed her dress with a sprightly expression on her face as if she expected to see him in good humor. Her smile faded as soon as she saw how stern he looked—in fact, he looked exactly as he did at the meeting; as if she shouldn't have been there.

She suddenly looked completely unsure of herself. "Thank you," she murmured very quietly and sincerely as her head disappeared behind the sheet again to finish dressing. She heard the admiral pace about before the pacing stopped and she heard him take a deep breath, cueing that he was about to begin a lecture.

"I am sorry for boarding. I didn't know which ship I was going on," she tried to explain before he could start haranguing her. "I just heard that this one was headed for Brinland." She stepped out from behind the sheet, looking quite ready to be yelled at with her toes pigeon and her hands behind her back. Though there was still nothing about her that looked submissive other than her stature since her eyes were so tightly fixed on his own, as if reminding him that she wasn't one to be intimidated.

"That's just the danger, Miss Weather," snapped Logan. "Any other captain would have surely cut open your skin with the cat by now, not giving a fig who you are or who your father is." He put his hand over his eyes. "Good lord, it could have been days before anyone would have gone in that room—it was for back stock. You might have well been dead before we found you, if not very dead," he continued to lecture.

"I obviously didn't think barrels could seal so tightly," she defended haughtily. "I thought I would be able to get out at my leisure."

"Well, you thought wrong, didn't you, Miss Weather?" he snapped fiercely. He shook his head, suddenly horrified by an image of her decaying body being found when his shipmates were all out of tobacco. What on earth would he have told her father? Oh, Gods. Her father. "Where's your father?"

She shrugged, looking very much without concern. "At home, I suppose," she guessed, nearly with a proud gist to her voice.

"You ran away," he concluded. He rolled his eyes and sighed while putting his hand over his eyes; appearing that he was having a very bad headache. "Your father's probably having kittens!" Sirius was a very organized man, very strict, but very good and loving under all. He knew his old school rival must have been panicked to the hilt.

Sirius had never talked about another child more than he had Renny–she was very obviously his favorite, as well as his first and only daughter. The grief Sirius must have been feeling would be intense. "And I have no time, Miss Weather, absolutely no time at all to return you. This is my personal ship, but it is not a private yacht! It's a man of war, and we're on a mission."

"Well, you're just going to Brinland," she said calmly.

"No, Madam, we're not just going to Brinland. We're to intercept a ship bound to attack the Brinland docks! We might well have a battle before we even spot a sign of land!" He seemed to march dangerously close to her.

Her eyes sparkled slightly with excitement, since she was, after all, a General's pupil that had never been allowed near a battle. Though already thinking of the victorious event, she tried to calm him. "I'll stay out of your way," she assured, trying to sound calm.

"Even if you could 'stay out of the way', you're in danger," he informed darkly. "The cannon ball does not discriminate. You don't know how easy it is to die on a ship."

"Well, not that easily, if you've lived as long as you've lived," she retorted smartly.

"You stupid girl," he spat angrily. "A twelve-pounder could easily deprive you of your leg. Or a head. You think because you're ageless means you can grow back one of those things?" He was yelling now, growing angrier and more worried for her the more he imagined. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest at the mere thought of returning Sirius' daughter to him either in a box or missing some very important limbs.

"Don't call me stupid, and there's no need to yell," she ordered firmly, yet at the same time sounding awkwardly fragile.

"Obviously I need to, Miss Weather, because you haven't been yelled at enough!" he told her, removing his sword sheath and slapped it onto his desk with a clank. "I've never known such a streak of outright naughtiness," he told her.

She blushed at the word "naughtiness". It seemed to change the structure of the confrontation immediately–she was no longer the admiral's peer he was upset with–she was a naughty child.

Wanting badly not to be thought of as a child, she said what she thought any young man would say. "I'll work with the men," she offered sincerely, straightening her back to look more able and strong. "And Poppa trained me in sword-play! I could be very good use to you in a battle," she said, almost exposing her excitement. "I'm sure at the end of it all, you'll be happy I came aboard."

He looked at her as if she had just lost her mind. "I'm not having the general's daughter's hands and knees bloodied up, or getting in the real sailors' way. To make this ship run I need strong, disciplined, and respectful men. You, my dear, don't posses any of those attributes," he said harshly as he sat very firmly on the bed. "As for battle experience; you have none, nor will you receive it here, I guarantee you. I'm sure the sword play your father taught you was just that. Play. Now, come over to me; let's get this over with."

Her posture seemed to freeze when he said that. She looked at him as he sat so straight, proud, and expectant. Did he really think she was going to bed him? Like she owed him anything? She was angered by the mere notion. Forgetting to even argue about her fighting abilities, she straightened her posture threateningly, like a snake about to bite. "Get what over with?" she asked tersely, her brow knitted with firmness and confusion.

"Your chastisement," he promptly answered as he rolled up his sleeves, sounding as if she should have seen it coming all along.

She reevaluated his posture–it suddenly looked all too familiar, only it was normally on her father as he sat on his stool in the woodshed, with the rolled sleeves and a strong posture. "You're not going to flog me," she informed certainly, standing strongly from her chair.

"Not with anything," he admitted, sounding as if she should be grateful about it. "You're a fool, but I've decided to be lenient because you are just a young girl, after all."

"No, sir, absolutely not," she informed with a shake of her head. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "You have absolutely no right at all."

"I have all the right under the gods," he told her firmly. "I am captain of this ship—high admiral of his majesty's navy! There is a tradition that has all stowaways flogged; however, in light of your selfish attitude towards your father and the absolute danger you've put yourself in, this one will be my pleasure."

"Be reasonable, Sir," she told him with a whine in her voice. "Think of me more as your uninvited guest?" They stared each other down for a moment, but Logan seemed much more at ease than she was. "I won't be beaten by anyone but my father, I simply will not!" She stomped her foot by way of stating that she had 'put it down'.

"I am done jousting with you," he declared, looking very impatient. "Miss Weather, you do not want me to come to you," he informed ominously. Suddenly he realized her posture had changed entirely, from a snake's to a deer's, looking like she was about to run. He stood up as to grab her, but his quick movements seemed only to bring on the inevitable. "Damn!" he cursed when she darted from the room at his very first movement.

The girl seemed like she already knew every corner of the ship, every hallway, every sailor that walked in her way–she was moving with great speed, and he knew he was not going to catch her anytime soon, unless... "Seize that girl!" he barked at a sailor the girl was going to run past.

She zipped past that sailor, despite his quick movements, and she got halfway down the main deck before two sailors came at her from two sides and held her still. "Let me go, you beasts!" she demanded furiously, desperately.

By the time the Admiral got there, he was more infuriated than many had ever seen him; his face was red and his jaw was locked, looking like it had steel bones within it. "Thank you, Mr. Styles, Mr. Anderson," he nodded when he finally found his voice again. He grabbed her arm tightly, but when she resisted with a sharp cry of "No!" he simply bent down and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The crew broke out in heavy laughter as they saw the high general's daughter being carried off like a naughty little girl by the admiral himself. Logan, however, didn't think it was funny at all. "Where were you trying to get to, by the way?" he grumbled at her. "There are only so many places you can go on my ship."

"Put me down!" she demanded hysterically and proceeded to pinch, scratch, and hit the Admiral's back as hard as she could.

He winced at her attack and then gave her a loud swap on the seat of her skirts. "Cease and desist, woman!" he warned. "Or I will flog you bare in front of my whole crew, I kid you not!"

The swat and threat seemed to subdue her enough. She gave a sort of frustrated growl, but just hung uncomfortably over his shoulder on the way down to his cabin. "Please, Sir," she began to plead again when they were below deck. "Can't you change your mind?"

He gave a snort. "Absolutely not!" was the answer. "And you will now also pay for that little jaunt about the ship. Shame on you for your foolish behavior!" he scolded as he finally reentered his cabin. "I expected you to be able to accept your chastisement like a lady—not a small child!" He leaned down to plant her feet on the ground in front of him. "Do you have a hairbrush in your pack?" he asked, his eyes glancing over at the cloth haversack she brought along with her.

She felt the pit of her stomach flutter. She had too much of a notion that he hadn't any desire at all to use it for the item's original purpose. She had been spanked with a hairbrush before—only not since before her mother passed away when she was seven. It was a very childish way of being chastised, even though she knew the admiral didn't plan on using it as gently as her mother had done. "No," was the answer that came through a moment of silence, her cheeks blushing furiously.

"It had better not be in there, then, when I look for one there," he said after eyeing her skeptically for a moment. He turned towards the pack.

"Maybe there is," she finally admitted as he picked up her sack. "I don't remember." She felt like dying when she saw him grab it out of the bag, wielding it, inspecting it, and then looking over and inspecting her suspiciously. Finally, he stomped over and grabbed her wrist tightly and led her over towards his desk chair. "I thought you said you weren't going to use anything," she whined.

He sat down on the chair and, without any more warning at all, pulled her unceremoniously over his thighs. "That was before you took matters into your own hands," he explained brusquely, grabbing for the bottoms of her skirts.

She squealed and put both hands behind her, trying to keep her skirts down. "No, Sir, please," she begged. "Over the skirts, if you would!"

"I wouldn't," he simply said, undeterred by her modesty. "And you will get your hands out of the way at all times, Madam," he said firmly.

She let out a dry sobbing noise and seemed to force her own hands to the floor. "You don't have any right to do this," she repeated with a cry as she felt all three layers of her skirts folding over her back. She gasped when she felt his hand on the hem of her pantalets, her face going redder than ever with humiliation. She whipped her hand back around and grabbed his hand firmly. "Stop!" she ordered. "You're not my father or my husband. You can not bare me!" she tried to warn.

"As this ship's master, I can," he differed mercilessly, pushing her hand gruffly back towards the floor. Although he didn't seem to wait a single moment before he had pulled down her pantalets, he did greatly anticipate them–far more than he knew was appropriate. The moment he had even seen her lingerie he had become too excited–truth be told, he had never seen cuter pantalets in his life. They were of the softest white with the most innocent lace on them. In all his years, and as far as he knew, he had never seen a virgin's bottom–the only ones he had seen were scandalously clad, seen for the few moments before the silks were ripped away before a torrid sexual encounter with some professional companions he frequently enjoyed while on land.

When he saw her bare bottom, an evil trill was sent down his spine. Her skin was so fair, and so soft–he just wanted to put his mouth on it. As he restrained himself as much as he could, he let himself inspect it for a moment and saw that there were some red stripes settled ruggedly across it, particularly deeper on her thigh. "You've been beaten, Miss Weather?" he asked straightforwardly, yet a slight amount of sympathy did infiltrate her ears.

"Yes, Sir," she admitted dejectedly, yet she was beginning to hope that he wouldn't find reason to continue. "The night I left..."

She heard him heave a sigh, but then his voice was very strong. "Really, Miss Weather, all this nonsense from one short whipping? A very light one, too, from the looks of it. Your father used to do much worse on your brothers, believe you me, and it was only to their benefit… Even though none of them were ever as horrible as you."

It was then that the spanking commenced. Renny winced and squeaked after she felt his strong, calloused hand come down roughly on her delicate little bottom, already knowing she wouldn't be able to tolerate it for very much longer. After the first few strokes she had decided that Logan was far harsher than her father–and he wasn't even warmed up yet. She had never been spanked by anyone other than her father or mother and so was aghast, now knowing that her parents had been so overly delicate with her.

It seemed like every smack of his hand left a red print and it didn't seem to be long at all until she began yelping and kicking her legs with all she was worth. After the tenth spank she had lost her composure completely, and tried to turn around and protect herself with her hand. "Please, stop!" she begged.

He locked his jaw again and grabbed her hand and pinned it against the small of her back. "I've only just begun!" he announced, despite her sob. "How Sirius could have ever raised a naughty little girl like you eludes me," he scolded as he continued to spank her. "You had better shape up, young madam, because you have far too much honor in your name to traipse around, shame your father, and climb aboard a ship, nearly killing yourself. Do you know how saddened your father would be at your demise? Do you have any idea?"

Renny was well beyond answering at this point–she had thought her bottom already tender before the spanking began. Now she was beyond capacity for logical response. "I'm sorry," she finally sobbed, tears now freely falling from her eyes.

"You'd better be," growled Logan. "You should be mortified at yourself for causing Sirius so much grief! You're simply lucky you're not my daughter."

'I'd say,' she thought to herself with so much humiliation that she felt enraged, but in too much pain right now to do a thing about it. She suddenly thought of all the men that could no doubt hear all of this on deck, and tried to stifle her sobs a bit, until she felt him stop.

She was in such relief–it was over! But then she felt the most uncomfortable swack she'd ever experience in her life and screamed as the flat of her hairbrush smacked the most sensitive skin just above her thigh. "Please have mercy!" she sputtered quickly as she sobbed, suddenly unable to conceive of anyone else on this ship but the two of them.

Did you guys like it? You know where to go…
RomanticSpankings.com! It will also soon be available through Amazon!

Korey’s Spanking Fiction Has Hit the Shelf!

2009-11-18T15:29:00.000-08:00

Pursuit of Glory
$6.95 - 21 Chapters
Click HERE for Chapter One

After nearly two years of sitting in Bethany's Woodshed's member's area, my first novel has hit RomanticSpankings.com! I'm really proud of it. It's a doozy at 21 chapters, and I've priced it low so that everyone can get a lot of spankings at a high quality for their money.

I REALLY need your support on this one, guys. I can't say how much I'd appreciate your buying the story, and I really don't think you'll regret it. Not much money comes to me, but I want Bethany to ask me to write another and keep my writing career going. And I'd rather her ask me to do another than me have to beg.
What's it about?

Renny, the daughter of the High General, is young and brave, but also a brat in need of strict guidance. Following an embarrassing incident in front of the king whom her father is sworn to serve, she runs away from her father's firm chastisement. She stows away on a ship, only to discover that she has ended up aboard the flagship of her homeland's navy, captained by Admiral Logan Liam—her father's rival, who only knows of one way to handle unwanted guests on his ship. But, over the course of the voyage, his fondness for her grows, as does his realization that she will always require a firm hand, frequently applied to her bare bottom.

Despite his best efforts, Logan and Renny are soon swept into the heart of a growing revolution against the cruel and brutal king. As the danger around them grows, so does their bond with one another, but can that bond endure through the events ahead?

* * *

So, essentially it's a spanking naval/war fantasy. I wrote it after reading a bunch of the Patrick O'Brian series and watching too much Horatio Hornblower. But although I'm biased, and it's my baby, I think it's quite good. I'm not very good at writing "boring". Once a part starts to get slow, you'll see it end and pick right back up into the action, so hopefully there's never a dull moment.

Please, give it a try! Read chapter one: Click HERE for Chapter One ! Tomorrow, I'll post one of my favorite chapters so you can really get a glance of the story's spanking quality!

The Beginning of the Spanking Diet

2009-11-16T07:00:00.000-08:00

Alright—so. James and I won a free cruise to go on this Spring, and it's my goal to wear nothing but bikinis and miniskirts the whole time. Although I haven't been gaining any weight, my weight's certainly not going down either, and like hell I'm going to wear anything sexy until I'm at my goal weight: 130.

I've been at 130 before and I think I looked very good there, though it's possible that I may want to lose more when I get there. But still, that leaves me with about 20 pounds to lose.

Tonight, though filled with water, I weighed 151.1 pounds (in the morning I tend to weigh up to 5 pounds less).

Talking about the spanking diet with James was a challenge, because he knows my weight can fluxuate up to 8 lbs in a normal day—I don't know why this is. Hormones? Water? The Devil? But whatever it is, it makes the "if you don't lose weight at this time next week" rule very hard to enforce, because I could eat nothing and still gain 4 lbs by next week at this time. That's just the way I am.

James and I have rattled around with the "Spanking Diet" idea for a long time. But it's hard to enforce—things come up and I can't exercise, or I forget to keep a food journal.

So, although James doesn't need to lose weight at all, James still expects me to work out 5 times a week (if I'm feeling well) and to keep a FOOD JOURNAL. Which I've kept before, but they're hard to keep track of. He'll be keeping a food journal, too, just to make sure it is a possible feat and he's not expecting something superhuman of me.

I should add that James hasn't said anything about my weight at all. It's just as good as when we first met—I'd gained weight for awhile, but then I lost it back to my original "meeting James" weight, which is where I am now.

Blah, blah, blah! Let's bring this rambling escapade back to spanking. How can spanking help with a diet?

Well, that's just what we're looking into. Lots of people have lost weight on the spanking diet—just peek into the American Spanking Society and see—they have been rattling away at a Spanking Diet since I found their blog, and it looks like they're doing great.

The idea in place is simple: if I don't achieve my weight-loss goals, I get spanked. Pure and simple. A lot of people's weight-loss goals are different; mine's merely exercise and a journal. Others are sometimes rules like 'losing so much weight every week', but I can't do that, as stated.

But to make this work, every time I come close to not obtaining those goals I'll be realizing that my failures will result in a pink bottom, which is definitely a good motivator.

Where can it go wrong? Not with me, really—life will be very tough for me if I don't follow my goals IF James follows through. SO the responsibility lies on James to enforce these rules, which is tougher than it sounds. James likes to spoil me, and he has to be really stern this time.

If it works, though—I will be one happy camper. Let's just hope my butt doesn't get too bruised on the way there!

Another Night, Another Spanking

2009-11-14T11:14:00.000-08:00

Curses!
I've told ya'll before—If I don't get a spanking for awhile, that doesn't mean that when I DO get spanked, I won't go through a time where I get spanked CONSTANTLY. I don't quite understand this anomaly; all I can do is verify its existence.

The funny thing is when I find myself in the corner with my pants down and an incredibly sore bottom, I'm always surprised that I'm there. Not because I think I don't deserve it… I just thought that since it had been 24 hours before doing something wrong, I was simply in the clear. Sort of like the thought that, "If a police car doesn't chase you after a minute, he won't chase you." Fallacy.

I guess the reason why he didn't do it before is that we both weren't feeling well on movie night. But, the next day we, unfortunately were just fine.

So, for all you detail hounds, it wasn't as bad as the one earlier this week. It was just over the knee, with his hand. In fact, a lot of it was over my panties. I think that was a reward for not arguing much. When I was doing what I was doing to get a spanking, I knew I had done something wrong, and I regretted it. I was thinking the spanking would, in fact, relieve me of some the guilt—and it did.

Alright. My interested is peaked. What did you do this time, Korey?

I'm glad you asked.

I gave James crap in front of our friends to shame him when they were over for "movie night" about his progress of working on our condo. We know the issue—we talked about it together until we were blue in the face. I just said something to shame him into working on it even more. At a time where he couldn't argue or respond.

The REASON James won't argue with me in front of his friends is because it's sort of an old thing we despise seeing in our friends. We want to see our friends happy—we hate how our friends fight with their wives so openly; how they disrespect and belittle each other. It seems like they're not "one", they're not a "team"; they're bitter rivals that are forced to live with each other.

So, to lead by example, James didn't respond to my put down. He just saved it for the next evening, after church, to deal with me about it.

"Unfortunately, you KNOW I can't discipline you in front of my friends. This isn't the 1950s and I can't be open enough about our relationship to punish you or give you blatant warnings or threats in front of them," James told me.

Which raises a good point: What would it be like in the 1950s? From what we've seen in movies from that time period, it seems like it was pretty common to spank your wives. We don't really know how accurate this is—we're too pussy to ask our grandparents about the accuracy of spanking's representation in the media.

"In the '50s," he speculated later when we were talking about it. "I wouldn't imagine it being odd if I sent you to our bedroom right away, came into spank you, and then you came out. I still probably wouldn't do it right there, of course—but they would definitely know you got one.

"Now," he went on. "When you say things like that, in front of them, and I don't respond, it looks like you won—that you succeeded in emasculating me. They don't know that I took you in hand for trying to emasculate me in front of them. Which isn't fair to me, and it's not fair to you. Which is why," he pointed a finger at me, "If it happens again, the spanking is going to be MUCH worse. You can NOT do that in front of them, because—I can't just take you in hand. There's nothing good I can do about it, and it's not fair. Yes—I COULD respond with insults or harsh sarcasm like they do, but that doesn't show that I'm a good husband. Not that we're not humourless. We're very open and we joke a lot, but when it's obvious that it's not joking—it's jabbing, that's when I need to do that."

And he's right—he should. It's not fair to jab at him when he doesn't jab at me.

Though, such things being said, it makes me wish it *was* the fifties. Not because I want my friends to know I earned myself a spanking with my horrible behavior, but because I'd like the other wives to get what's coming to them, too. It seems like I'm the only wife who doesn't have the leeway to be horrible.

At least James could offer spanking as a solution to his friends' troubles back then without their jaws dropping. We might have gotten somewhere.

Spanking Lit. Review - Pets: Bach's Story

2009-11-12T07:30:00.000-08:00

Pets: Bach's Story by Darla Phelps

Alright, so I’m one of those people that honestly get turned on by age-play, but I don’t LIKE the fact that I do. All spanking literature used to be something I read under the covers—I didn’t want anyone to know what I was reading! Spanking, I knew, was SO taboo they wouldn’t even get it. They would think I was odd.

But what do you do when you WORK in the spanking biz? You become a little desensitized, I've gotta tell you. All day it's spanking, spanking, spanking… Nothing's ever new! Nothing seems to give me that old nervous tingle at the pit of my stomach. Except this one.

This story, even though I've read it a few time, still gives me that old mischievous "I shouldn't be reading this" sort of feel, when it's NOT EVEN AGEPLAY. So, in short—it's for the people that want to read age play but don't want to support age play.

How, you ask? Let me explain.

Bach is an alien—who looks human, if humans had 4 fingers and were eight feet tall. (Here's what to keep in mind when I say "Eight feet" is tall. You know how "Predator" dwarfs Arnold Swartzenegger when they're fighting? The Predator was only 7'4''. Thus, 8 feet is HUGE.)

Pani is a human—taken right off the earth's surface and put into a cage to be sold at a pet-store. And she's exotic looking—she's a redhead, she's small, she's cute. Bach buys her.

Bach isn't an experienced pet owner, so he does everything anyone tells him to do, or what everyone else does—he dresses her up in his daughters (his daughters and wife are dead) old clothing, does up her hair, and then tries to "train" her with spankings… And enemas, and stretchings, forced sex, and time-outs, and everything else.

But then he finds out that humans are more intelligent than he's told—definitely not as smart as his species, but definitely an intelligent race with intelligence that far exceeds a pet. You watch as he ends up falling in actual love with Pani, and not in the human-pet relationship sort of way.

So—it's sort of age-play, sort of sci-fi, sort of bdsm.

At the end of the day, it's fascinating. The story is told though Bach's POV (supposedly there will eventually be a sequel where you see the same event from Pani's POV), and you get to see his struggle with falling in love with his pet and letting her fill the void that was developed when his family died in a car accident. He has to learn pet-training the hard way, and you get to see his thought process through the whole thing. You become very sympathetic towards him until the weirdness is completely gone—your mind will allow Pani to become a pet and you will be brought along the journey with him. Because of the way Phelps rights it, you become entranced into this world. Just be careful—as soon as you start actually talking about what you're reading, it sounds pretty weird and pretty fast. But that doesn't take away from the excitement and hotness of this story.

It's definitely not like a lot of the stories Blushing Publications' is known for, where they're just romance stories with a spanking thrown in instead of sex. This one is not something you want your mother to find you reading. But still, it is a great little story and I recommend it to anyone willing to expand their minds.

Available as an eBook at www.romanticspankings.com/index.php. Adults only.

And I’d been SO good for SO long…

2009-11-10T20:19:00.000-08:00

Some of you assume I'm worse than I am—that I get spankings every day and then do the spanking celebration dance because I like them SO much. But that's just not so. I rarely get spanked as discipline. I get a slap on the ass about 50 times a day, and every time we have sex, a fun little spanking will somehow scurry into our picture, but discipline spankings are not fun affairs, and are certainly not frequent.

Just the other day we realized that I hadn't gotten a discipline spanking since we were in Santa Fe. That was in the beginning of September, folks. I mean, I'd gotten a couple of stern smacks, but not an over-the-knee sort of session that I most un-enjoy.

Of course we were both thinking the same thing at that time—that I'm "due". Not officially, or anything, only we realized I can't go too long without messing something up pretty royally where I don't really have an excuse.

Did this happen on your anniversary? Woof!

No! Our anniversary was on Sunday, and it was wonderful. We can be very romantic when we try. We cooed at each other while we filled ourselves with fondue for about 3 hours. It really was lovely.

My spanking happened last night—Monday. I was in a horrible mood all day, so if you were to go back in time and informed me that I was about to get spanked, I would have no trouble believing you. Normally when I'm depressed, I walk right into one. When I'm depressed I hate myself, I hate everyone else, I hate my life, I hate who I am and what I can do and why anyone would ever put up with me. I was having a day LIKE THAT. And so, normally all the negativity makes me say something that causes me to upend over James' knee.

Not because James would EVER discipline me for being depressed—he knows that's probably not the best way of fixing me. If I get a spanking when depressed, it's because he wasn't understanding that I was in a sad mood, and only interprets my crazy actions as... well, craziness or meanness not something I'm doing because I'm sad—James is actually really good about being nice to me when I'm feeling fragile.

Despite the history, THAT's not even why I got a spanking yesterday. It was because we looked a long time for a lighter and couldn't find one. Isn't that funny? Of course, if we can't find something, it's my fault.

You can't find something, and therefore it's YOUR fault? James is pretty strict…

No, no. James just realizes that I like to hide objects out of view in the house. It's ALWAYS me. Once in a while, I would LOVE James to be the "misplacer" just to make life interesting. But it never is. It's always me. I hide mail, magazines, newspapers, small objects, medication, toothbrushes, or anything at all that is just "left out". I normally feel rushed when I'm doing this, and so I don't break my back trying to figure out where all this stuff goes.

Which is fine—we have a clean house. BUT we can't find anything. We spend HOURS looking for the crap I've misplaced constantly. I've placed our cat's eye drops in my birth-control bag, once. I mean—it's bad.

But, REALLY, James wouldn't want to spank me for something he's not positive is my fault, though, so he waits until he found, while looking for the lighter, his missing sunglasses in my sock drawer. How they got there? I don't know.

So, James called me into the bedroom, and told me to take off my jeans. He had been very smooth with me all night; so much so, I didn't really take any of this seriously. So I pulled off my pants, thinking he was just going to give me a few slaps, fondle my ass a bit, then let me up.

I was mistaken.

I *realized* I was mistaken when James slid my belt out of my pants. He did this probably because, unless James is going to a business conference, James does not wear them. He also probably did this because this is not my first punishment for this offense.

My composure went very quickly from giggly and aroused to whiney and concerned.

It started out with a vicious hand spanking—one where I thought he was definitely favoring my left cheek. It went on forever. He was talking—he always talks, and he wanted me to respond. It was something about how I need to remember where I put things and put things where they're supposed to go, and if they don't have a place to make one and keep it consistent. And stuff.

And then he grabbed my belt and immediately started spanking with it without much ado, and then he stopped. "You have GOT to start staying more still," he said. "This would already be done if you didn't fight so much."

He says this like I can help it.

"I'm giving you twenty more with the belt."

With number two he got my hand. I don't know why he feels he much announce it—it just makes things worse. I know when I give blood, the nurse never says, "Alright. I'm about to put in the needle. Watch." No. They just do it. They just stab you and get it done. Maybe if he did that, my hands wouldn't be so quick to go back there and get themselves injured.

And then it was all over. I wasn't crying—but I was put into the corner with my pants down and shirt lifted to think about it before I was able to survey what the damage was. And there was QUITE some redness going on.

Now, as I've mentioned before, James doesn't ever get fresh during the punishment, but afterwards it does turn him on a little when he's thinking about it generally, or looking at a pink bottom in a corner. So, James later said that it was the cutest spanking I'd ever gotten, and if he knew where the camera was, he would have taken a picture. But, again—only I knew where the camera was. J

Nearing the End of YEAR ONE

2009-11-06T17:47:00.000-08:00

That's right—the reminder that James and I, though very generous with our advice, have been only married for a single year—not even! This Sunday, on the 8^th, we're approaching our one-year anniversary. Whoot!

That's why we won't be blogging until Monday, at the least. We're going up to Kerrville, TX and Los Maples and we're hikin' until Sunday and then we're going for dinner at the Melting Pot. It's bound to be tons of fun.

What do you like about being married?

I really just enjoy being married in itself. And because I'm more honest on my blog than anywhere else, I like that marriage applies a sort of "ownership"—we have formed really into "one", and because of that, we really hold an allegiance together that I don't think people who are "just dating" really get. James and I are really invested in the other. There's also the knowledge that our future, despite what may happen to politics or economics or work, always lies together, and that's very comforting.

In short—partnerships/relationships may feel like they fill the void—but nothing quite does it like marriage. I know sometimes you think that if you get married that you will be stuck forever with someone who's NOT into spanking, or IS into spanking, and you're scared to death that you won't be able to get out of it.

Don't feel that way—marriage can fill the void that spanking can't, and marriage is stronger than a dislike of discipline. Either way, it's better to be married than to not be married.

Is it easy?

Like breathing. Now—you know it's easier to breathe in the clear air of the country than in the muggy cities. Same thing—it's not easy in adversity. James and I have been so stressed nearly all year by finances, and house-sales, and home-improvement, and everything else. There have been times where I have been at each other's throats—defensive, exasperated, etc. But we've pressed through it until we're breathing fresh air again.

So, make sure your priorities are straight—it's all fine and good meeting gentlemen in hotel rooms for a fine evening of spanking, but there's nothing like a man you can cuddle with on Saturday mornings (and James LOVES cuddling). If you're lucky though, you can find both--if you want them to be seperate things, then... Choose marriage, and loose the spanking--because you can have a happy marriage without it. But just don't go through life alone!

Dragon Master Spanking Story Review

2009-11-05T21:54:00.000-08:00

Originally posted by Korey on Bethany's Woodshed Story Forum

"A GREAT HIGH FANTASY..."

At first, I wasn't going to read this story. I normally don't read stories about dragons, you see--I look over at the fantasy section when I'm at Borders, and decide quite openly that I won't step near it. Fantasy has the potential to get really strange, really dramatic, and really complicated, really fast.

And I'm not too far off-base--Nattie Jones' story here does the same thing--it starts of strange, gets really dramatic very quickly--but I guess it works, because this story was pretty damn good.

I digress--I was sceptical at first of the whole layout of Khys--I didn't know if I liked the wise-woman set up and the choosing block at all. Definitely, Khys is a strange-ass place--here, women have no privacy, can be used, and are thought mainly of as property. Someone growing up in such an environment, I wouldn't think could be at all interesting.

But I was obviously wrong. Sierra's a pretty neat chick--oh yeah, she's subservient. How can you not be when you grow up at Khys? When you grow up in North Khys, by 20, you've probably had over 4,000 spankings. That's a lot. I, personally, would have given up the fight. But not Sierra--this character has nothing to lose, and better yet, she knows it. And when you have nothing to lose, and you get spanked about once a day, anyway, why not throw hot coffee on the master? Why not savour every bit of kindness you get, and resent everything else? Why not fall in love with the dragon master? As a woman, you're going to serve someone while you're at Khys--why not someone you like? At least it will then be service with a smile.

Truthfully, I nearly cringed when I saw that she was falling in love with him. The dragon master was a little unreadable for me, making the story pretty unpredictable. Up until the last chapter, I wasn't sure how it was going to end--I got into thinking a servant could never be a Dragon Master's wife--yes, yes, I too got caught up in the main character's thought-process until I could no longer predict the people around her any more than she could--and I was actually surprised to see an ending I was happy with. The story should have been predictable, only it really wasn't. Nattie's world created a wonderful dynamic (where you can oust your wife, for starters) where you, as the reader, had to just let go and let the world reveal itself to you.

To sum up here, I just want to say that although I avoid fantasy like the plague, I really enjoyed myself by this magical story. So, if you didn't read this story because the title and subject matter scared you off; grow a pair, read the story, and thank me later. Good job, Nattie Jones.

Will people who are into DD like it?

I don't see why not! It's a little off the beaten path, perhaps. Most women cling to the cliché where a man tames them by shocking them with a spanking. This has taming without the shock factor, but it works anyway.

Will people that are into Spanking Special Little Faucets (CDD, Ageplay, etc) like it?

An ageplayer will only enjoy this story if they still like reading about stuff that in no way concerns ageplay. This doesn't have it. It's not quite CDD either because of the fantasy theme—it's very other-world based. But, it works. There's a good vs. Evil theme to it. I don't even know if someone would like it if they aren't a spanko—but if you ARE a spanko... You'll like it. I'm sure of it.

Available as an eBook at RomanticSpankings.com and as a physical book on SpankBooks.com

A Man’s Response

2009-11-04T08:00:00.001-08:00

Since Korey has upped the ante by creating a repeating series, and since I've promised her I'd post much more often, I've decided to do the same. The general purpose of the series is to discuss and respond to complaints that women have about men (especially potential HOH's) that I consider unreasonable or silly.

Upon hearing the subject of my series, Korey initially suggested (somewhat jokingly) that I title it "Quit your bitching woman!", and in a sense this title is more accurate than "A Man's Response". However, I decided to be less combative, because the "woman" I'm referring to is certainly not Korey, but rather a generic "modern woman". Furthermore, these are not meant to be responses specifically to Korey's posts, although they may seem to immediately follow them suspiciously often. For the most part I usually agree with what she has to say. They may address side issues indirectly raised by Korey's posts, or be about completely different issues. I'm going to try to keep them to a reasonable length.

Now, a confession... I play video games, for a couple of hours a week on average. I am not at all ashamed of this, I only call it a confession because I suspect a reasonable fraction of DD-minded women just decided that I am not worthy to be HOH. Even outside the DD community, I have found that a decent fraction of women have decided that if a man plays and enjoys video games, he must be immature and childish. I could give a detailed justification for why I find video games to be a perfectly acceptable pastime, how in many ways they are much more intellectually stimulating than TV, and how they can actually be a very family friendly activity, but I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'm simply going to make a blunt statement. First, however, I need to define two terms. I will make no effort to actually look these up in a dictionary, I will instead simply give what I use them to mean. (Why am I being so pedantic? Because as Korey pointed out, I'm an aerospace engineer who is still in grad school, and I am used to having approximately ten people edit, re-edit, and in general bitch and moan about everything I write. I humbly apologize for taking this out on you.) Now, the definitions:

Spare Time:
Time that is available for doing things that amuse you, for no other reason than that they amuse you.

Spare Money:
Money that is available to spend on things that amuse you, for no other reason than that they amuse you.

Now, the statement: Provided that he isn't doing anything morally reprehensible, it is none of your business what your husband does with his spare time or his spare money. Furthermore, with the same caveat about morality, it is none of his business what you do with yours, even if he is a strict, hard-spanking HOH.

Note that I make no comment about how much spare time or spare money a person should have. This is dictated by circumstances. How much do you earn? Is the house paid off? Do you have kids or not? Is it a really busy week at work or not? Are relatives in town or not? Etc. How much spare time a person has is very much their spouse's business. If a man is playing video games when he needs to be working, this is certainly a problem. If a man is spending excessively on video games, that is a problem. If a man is neglecting his family to play video games, that is a problem. These are reasonable points that a woman should raise with her husband, especially if he is the HOH. If he is a good HOH, he should honestly consider what she is saying, and if it is at all reasonable, adjust his behavior. As in everything else, if he isn't sure who is right, he should err on the side of doing what his wife asks, because that is the chivalrous thing to do.

If she is being completely unreasonable, however, that is what the paddle is for. If you just gave the ok for her to spend $100 on shoes, and she then claims you are wasting money when you buy video game for $50, she might well need a paddling. If your wife just spent two hours watching "Project Runway" while you mowed the lawn, and is now griping that you want to play "Halo" for a little while, she probably needs a paddling. Finally, if the last three movies you've been to with your wife all had Sandra Bullock in them, and you didn't complain, but she throws a fit when you want to watch "Predator", she most definitely needs a paddling.

That’s A DD Deal-Breaker, Ladies!

2009-11-03T11:25:00.000-08:00

I was watching one of my favorite shows, 30-Rock, and they make fun of this "Catch Phrase" where they list a common complaint of a man and say it's a "deal breaker". IE: If your man wears a big diamsond necklace that says "Pussy" on it—that's a Deal-Breaker, Ladies!" It's equivalent to Jeff Foxworthy's "Redneck" jokes, but as I was watching, I couldn't help but realize that there's so many "deal breakers" that happen in our community, as well. Here's a few.

Askin' More Than He's Doin'? – That's a DD Deal-Breaker, Ladies!

Many women get taken advantage of as soon as she makes it quite obvious that she's a submissive, and wants a dominant boyfriend/husband. What happens is they think they can boss you around, because as soon as you say anything, than you're being "uppity" and "need a spanking". Don't let them get away with this. A TRUE HOH will never ask more of you than he does of himself—ever. He's a problem fixer—not a problem dealer.

Is he spendin' your dough instead of savin' your dough? That's a DD Deal-Breaker, Ladies!

I know that you keep hearing "Carpe Diem", with Oprah and those like her saying that you need to "live in the moment". And it's true—you should. But always be mindful of the future—it's not going away just because you're ignoring it. A good HOH will not spend all your money on a video game and then gasp when you buy a nice pair of shoes. He SHOULD monitor your spending, but he should also be monitoring his own. That doesn't mean be cheap—it means be frugal—wisely frugal. A good HOH always has future goals that he knows will come and when that time comes, you shouldn't have to worry about it, because the HOH has already made proper provisions.

Is he grippin' school by the fingernails? That's a DD Deal-Breaker, Ladies!
I see this happen a lot because James is still in Grad school. It's disconcerning to me James is working as hard to get through as quickly as possible, while still making sure that he has enough experience and connections so that he can easily get a job when he is finished, but there's so many that seem like they would be satisfied being in school forever. And it's not just the aerospace department—my friend has the same problem who's a biology grad student—he's been working on his masters for YEARS now. Ph.Ds take a long time, but if they're full-time students, it should NOT take more than eight years (That's six years after undergrad; 10 years in college total).

A lot of the reason why they do this is because they're afraid of that next step, they're afraid of the real-world, they're afraid of making decisions and they're afraid of leaving their friends, and the girlfriend/wife/children be damned. It's selfish and immature. A good HOH will always put the needs of his family above his own personal desires and fears. Always.

This will hopefully be a repeating series. For you DD-dreamers, check back soon for more reality-check deal-breakers. It's important that before you ask someone to be an HOH, for them to ALREADY be an HOH. You can't change a man.

A Post I Wrote In July & Never Posted… Whoops.

2009-10-31T09:46:00.000-07:00

Here's something I wrote in Albuquerque but never posted…. Haha… Sorry about that. At least I was thinking of ya'll!

Hello Folks!

I know ya'll want to throw rocks at me for not posting for a few weeks. But I have excellent excuses. Number one—work's been busy. Number two—I had to work construction on my condo, sell my house, and pack up to spend the summer in Albuquerque.

I'm in Albuquerque as we speak. Actually—that's a lie. I'm on an airplane currently, flying away from Albuquerque to be in the wedding party of 2 weddings in 8 days. I'm going to be completely dished when I get home. I hate being that age when everyone is getting married…

I bet everyone's wondering at this point if I've been good. No. No, I haven't. It's been a rough week for my rump, no doubt. And not because I've been doing a new exercise regimen.

It seems like—and I think I've mentioned this before—that I tend to go long stretches of not being spanked and then I go into stretches where I'm spanked all the time. I'm unfortunately in the later stretch. Which is why my "vacation" in Oregon might be more relaxing than you think.

So, when we moved into the furnished apartment here and James went through the drawers looking for a spanking instrument, just because he does stuff like that, and he pulled out the smallest, flattest little wooden stirring instrument you've ever seen in your life, I thought I was in for a pretty good summer. I had purposely forgotten the paddle at home, and this little wooden whatever was NOT going to take its place.

Sigh… If only. It didn't seem too long before I was standing naked in the corner, getting a lecture for making sure another virus got onto my computer because I A) didn't install a virus or spyware protector as advised and B) didn't make backups of any of my files. If it was a worse virus, I would be in a very bad mood right now, indeed. C) looking at… questionable, shall we say, websites that allowed the virus to enter.

And so, after I was over-the-knee in a spanking that I felt was long enough— until my ass was quite red and worn out—I was begging him to at least put a "number figure" as to how many times he was going to spank me, to which he refused; saying he didn't know how many it was going to take until he had "made his point clear". He pulled out the spoon (the little wooden whatever from before).

So, he used it mostly on my sit spot, and I'm not going to talk about the sting it left—I like to think that any wood hitting flesh is going to sting (but not as much as the paddle—not by a long shot). What it did leave, that the paddle hadn't, was this itch. This itchy pain that I'd heard about when folks describe "switching". Not an itch like mosquito poison might give you, more like sharp pain that feels like it's crawling around a particular area. Not very fun to walk or to sit on.

But, I thought the worst was over. Until James found on the Credit Card bill a $125 dollar charge for a product I use for work that I didn't discuss it with him. And then the process began ALL over again. I realized why I was in this position, mind you. It's because I didn't discuss it with him on purpose. I didn't hide it—I used our regular credit card, and figured he would see it some time, but something told me that he would make such an argument against paying over a hundred dollars for anything that it didn't seem worth it to mention before the purchase.

This hurt James. He felt I did something "untrustworthy", and he's right. Why I didn't think that I was going to get a spanking from it is beyond me. Or maybe I did know, and I thought it was worth it.

I'm getting to that stage where I forget occasionally how god-awful discipline spankings can be.

This time, he used the belt, but my memory had already come to me when he was pulling down my pants about how horrible the spanking was going to be. My body remembered before my mind—standing in the corner before the event, I slouched lowly as I heard him taking his belt out of the closet.

Now here's an interesting note about the belt—I was scared of it. I mean, of course it hurt my bottom, but I was afraid that he was going to hit my vagina accidentally with it again, and THAT freaked me out! I kept on thinking how easy it would be, particularly given my position—on my back while he held my legs up high with one hand and was wielding the belt for another. I almost wish I had a metal thong that would protect my goods. Isn't it funny how one bad experience can make me weary forever after?

Anyway, other than my spanking, (the second of which was so bad I couldn't sit for the rest of the day. After the belting he focused on my "sit spot" and thighs), I meant to tell everyone that we're going to see big changes coming up in ABCD Webmasters. Every site is going to get a fresh update?

All of the sites?!

Yep—all of them. Have to. We're moving to a new server that supports better software. We have 90 days from August 1^st to get all the sites off one server and onto the better one. I'm excited about it, but it's going to be a lot of hard work.

A few of the ones that will be updated are…

Bethany's Woodshed (herwoodshed.com)

Romantic Spankings
Spanking Romance (yes—a second update in a year. The second will be easier to read.)
Story Archive (spankstories.com)
Spank Books
Spankings4mykindle.com
And 2 fully new sites

Isn't it funny how 7 months ago I didn't really know how to build a website, and now I maintain a slew of them and have to build a slew of them over the summer? Aye yay yai!

Why are you telling us about Bethany's… Are you ADVERTISING?!

Yes. Sorry, it's what I DO ALL DAY. And I don't want to announce anything on the update blog until it's been done, because I don't know what problems I'll have, and I don't want to get anyone's hopes up.

What I can't get over is how damn lucky I am. How many people get to make spanking their work without having to bare their tush? Barely any women at all. I do my bliss….

By the way, I read a good Psychology Today article that gave me a good idea for a post. But you'll get your ear-full AFTER the weddings, thank you very much!

Have a great July!

(Oct: 31: I know, I know. July. Sorry...)

Where Have You Been, Young Lady?!

2009-10-30T17:45:00.000-07:00

…Albuquerque. It was quite nice. I loved it, actually—I might just move there in a year or two. New Mexico really is the scha-nizzle.
And you had no computer in Albuquerque?!

It was really busy! I work 16 hours a day rather commonly, and remember, I work for Blushing Publications (ABCD Webmasters) and so I work around spanking all day, every day. Which makes me exceptionally lucky, but unfortunately, lately, when I've had some spare time, I normally pursue non-spanking activities. But now I'm back, back and bringing you all my spanking thoughts. I actually had quite a few. I've done much more thinking about the blog than I have been doing the blog. Of course, it's been that way all along!
In short, I've been doing more brain-work for this blog than work-work.
Why has work been so darn busy?

The Spanking Story Archive has been 2 years behind at one point. I had to bring them up to date—which I just finished this Sunday. And I also run Spanking Romance. AND I've had to get the new RomanticSpankings.com store up and running. And it's REALLY buggy right now. I mean, still aesthetically pleasing at it works, but there's a problem with the download-expiration and the fact that it asks for your credit card number twice and that the checkout page template is funky… Awe, man oh man, oh man. It's been tough. I've also been helping out with covers lately. Also, our customer service had gotten behind and we had to let someone go, and I tried to help pick up the slack until the new customer service rep, Tia, got situated. Now, they told me to "Stop doing Customer Service!" Which… Is sad. L
How's the Spanking Diet?

I'm in my mid-140s now, instead of mid 150s. Which is GREAT. But my spanking diet has been working differently than how it works for others. The "Spanking Diet" for ME consists of me working so much I forget to eat lunch. Or Breakfast… Or both. Works wonders! I have been working out pretty regularly, though—no escaping that. Food journal---out the window. I haven't touched it since I left for Albuquerque. It's HARD to maintain a food journal!

James and I decided that we needed a resolution—I want to get to my goal-weight. The Weight of my dreams—130. So, James' job is if I don't work out when he's at work EVERY WEEK DAY—I get spanked. No ifs, ands, or butts. J But I've been REALLY good about it so far. No spankings yet! Not for that at least.

..No Spankings this Summer, you said?

I never said that. I meant I hadn't gotten a spanking for not working out yet. I have been getting fewer spankings… I got a small one just last week for "swearing in church". (Which is a crock. "Ass" is totally PG now.) James said I can't say "ass" in front of…

1. The Elderly

2. Church

3. The Pastor

4. His boss

But… It's PG! I mean, at one point, "Shoot" was bad. We need to fade in with the times. Who's on my side?!

You know, people were getting worried…

I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'll do better. Much, much better. I have my next post almost written, in fact. So keep posted!

When Korey Goes Krazy…

2009-06-24T13:18:00.001-07:00

Alright—well, most of you probably know by now—James and I are under a TON of stress. We're moving out of our house, doing construction on a condo, keeping the house clean for showing, we have pets, jobs, appointments and he had to go all week to a conference. And we're moving to Albuquerque for the rest of the summer on Friday.

Needless to say, if we lost our minds, I think everyone would sympathize with the situation.

But isn't it funnier that with everything we're up to, none of that stuff made me go so crazy I earned myself a spanking this last Sunday after church? It was a craving. And no—I'm not pregnant. I don't have as good of an excuse. I wasn't even famished—I wanted French toast. I don't know why, but I did. I wanted something bready and eggy, and God help the man who got in my way.

James normally doesn't care—he hasn't regulated my diet since I had foot problems 3 months ago. The night before, in fact, we had a sugar binge while we went to the movie theatre to watch "Year One"—which was horrible, but we had SO many goodies that I slept horribly and I had a headache the next day. Something happens to me the following day after a diet mistake—I deform. My face, for one, deforms into this strange ugliness reminiscent of the woman-villain in the Goonies. I look like half my face caves in.

Luckily, I was able to get a hold of myself for church, and I had pulled back the headache. But, unfortunately, I had already made 3 complaints—one that morning and 2 the night before, that I had WAY too much sugar, and what was I thinking.

So, when I mentioned that I was going to make "French Toast" when I got home, James felt he had to say something. "Remember—you had a LOT of sugar last night, so maybe you shouldn't have anything sugary this morning."

Something dark suddenly swept over me, and my mood did a 180. I was now on the verge, after we were holding hands and kissing each other's cheeks and being nauseating after church, to someone who was contemplating manslaughter. "French Toast doesn't have sugar on it," I reminded scathingly.

"Yeah, but the syrup you'll put on it does."

We're lucky we didn't get in a crash. I almost unleashed my furry by beating him to death. Instead, I screamed,

" BUT I'M HUNGRY, JAMES! I NEED FOOD! I NEED FRENCH TOAST! GET OFF MY CASE! I'M HUNGRY!" In a voice that Satan would have if he got kicked in the nuts; high and ringy with a blanket of evil over it. It scared ME. But I had no control over how it came out.

He only took my hand and held it. It's hard to describe exactly HOW he held it. Firm, I suppose. He held it firmly—almost as if he was firmly saying, "I love you. But get a hold of yourself, woman!" but he didn't. Didn't say anything. Neither did I.

So; it's fair to say that I totally knew I was getting a spanking. I mean, I hoped I wasn't going to get one, but I knew it was coming. When we finally pulled into the driveway, I finally said, "I'm sorry I snapped. I don't know what happened, there."

He sighed. "I know, Honey. It's alright."

But as soon as I walked into the front door and put down my purse, he looked like he was going to go for coffee, but then turned around quickly and took my hand and led me to the bedroom, saying, "Let's just discuss something very quickly."

Yeah, we don't have quick discussions. So, it must be a spanking. I sighed. I was resolved to it. I had suddenly lost my mind. I didn't think a spanking would help my future behavior, however, because I didn't know quite what spurred on the crazy to begin with.

But I had a history. A history of food-crazy. Let me tell you the tale (though quite perverse, I warn you) about how I almost killed my ex fiancé over the left-over brownie batter. This story will make you think less of me, I know, but it's a true story. I like to think I'm a normal person, too—until I think back to this dark, dark time.

I had walked in from class, and my ex boyfriend, all 340 pounds of him, was cooking—which was what the man did best. He was excellent at cooking, and I'm still trying to shed off the forty-five pounds I had gained during the course of our relationship. That day, he was making brownies.

Now, I don't even care for brownies. Not as much as the uncooked batter. JP, by ex, didn't believe in eating batter since he had gotten salmonella poisoning when he was a kid from eating batter with a raw egg in it. Such a thing had never, and has never, happened to me, and I hated that he would try to clean the bowl before I had a chance to lick it.

Today, I was PMSing, and as most of you women know, we need chocolate during this time. We will climb a mountain for chocolate. We will fight for it. And so, I begged as hard as I could for the batter, and finally JP made a deal with me.

If I performed oral on him, I could have the bowl.

Oh my God! Are you a chocolate whore?

Yes, I am. I'm not proud of it, but I took his deal, and afterwards, let him have sex with me, even though I made it clear that I was not in the mood. After it was done, needless to say, I felt deserving of the chocolate. However, by the time I was finished getting dressed after the ordeal, I came out into the kitchen and saw the bowl in the sink, with water in it, soaking.

My mouth dropped. "But—my CHOCOLATE!" I gasped.

JP smirked at me and shrugged. "I told you that raw egg's not good for you."

I looked at the knives next to me. JP didn't know how close he was to death. Every inch of my being yearned to take one of those knives and stick it into him with all my strength. I was not myself. I was shaking.

As I was trying to fight this powerful will that was trying to put me in prison for the rest of my life, JP suddenly produced a chocolate batter-covered spoon. It saved his life. I calmed down instantly, but I found I was sick. My adrenaline was surging. I was still seeing white. I had very nearly killed him.

So, I wasn't that crazy this last Sunday, obviously—but I do have that sort of potential. My friends used to laugh, "You have such a sweet tooth! I don't know how you're not the size of a hippopotamus." Sweet tooth. Bah. They don't know the half of it. Sweetness is like heroine to me.

Anyway, so I was subjected to this spanking because I was hoping it would harness this crazy food-demon I knew was still living in me, somewhere.

James sat down on the bed and wheeled me in front of him and took my hands in his. "I've been very good about not snapping at you, sweetie, but you need to be more careful about how you say things to me. I know you're craving something, but I only care about your health. I wasn't lecturing you. I just care about you, and I didn't deserve that."

"I'm so sorry…" I repeated, and I did feel bad.

"I know you are, honey," he said sincerely. "This is just going to be a quick reminder to control yourself."

He pulled me across his lap. For some reason, I had an image of those women in vintage-spanking pictures because I had high-heels and a cute skirt on and I looked so house-wife-being-punished-by-her-well-dressed-husband. Until, of course, the spanks started, and then, of course, all I was thinking about was how I could get out of this horrible situation.

I didn't have much will to complain during this spanking. I was thinking of the story I just told you, and I still felt bad over it. Especially the "whoring myself out for chocolate" part that seemed so unlike the strongly Christian woman who I am now, who could be described even has 'prudish'.

Not that the spanking made up for it. Actually, for the grief I was feeling, I felt it was over rather quickly. It was only about twenty spanks long, and James counted them out for me. His hand was firm, but he spanked quickly, not torturing me by dragging it out too long.

I realize how lucky I am. I have a man who understands me now, who doesn't torture me with emotions or compromise my worth, or who I am, even though he knows what my weaknesses are. James is such a strong, nice, very attractive, very successful man that I don't deserve. Especially because, since he still didn't want me to have any sugar, he took me out to buy an egg sandwich that would appease my egg craving while not adding too much sugar to my already bad sugar-hangover headache. That man gets me.

How Did Women Kill Chivalry?

2009-06-15T12:07:00.001-07:00

Alright, folks—I'll be the first to admit that I have a problem. I'm obsessive. Once I start something, God help me if I can stop doing it. When it comes to figuring out problems with a webpage, you benefit. When it comes to blog posts, you benefit. When it comes to starting a new book—life is put on hold, the earth stops revolving, and life is just me, with my book.

That is really traumatic when it comes to getting hooked on a series. Then it might be days until I come out of my room. Weekend wasted.

I normally only read 200 page books that I help Bethany from Bethany's Woodshed publish. Rarely are they ever longer than that. 200 pages I can waist in a couple of hours. THE TWILIGHT SERIES has taken the largest hit on my time since Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I really, really liked the first three books of the series. I really, really hated the forth book. I would explain why, but you'll start asking yourself when this became a writer's group or a review forum. Simply put: Stephanie Meyer just didn't even TRY on the fourth book! I could go on all day on how—

HEY, HEY, HEY! What does this have to do with Chivalry, for one, and what does this have to do with spanking?

Sigh. I'm getting to that. Anyway; the reason WHY I liked the Twilight Series wasn't because I wanted to squeeze Robert Patterson's tush. I think my husband is just as, if not more attractive, anyway, and I can squeeze his tush anytime I wanted. What I liked was Edward Cullen, the main vampire in the novel. What I liked ABOUT Edward was his manners.

That's right—I didn't care about the fact that he can keep a car from running over you, that he has the strength of 1000 men, and that he can carry Bella around as easily as a backpack. I cared about his manners.

Edward Cullen is a perfect gentlemen. He engages in Chivalry techniques in manners that they don't even carry out in the South anymore. "Good Manners" I've forgotten about. Edward opens every door for Bella (the human girl), including not just building doors but car doors.

Edward sometimes buckles Bella into her seat, pays for meals, walks street-side, carries her bags, pulls out the chair for her, keeps her virginity intact until after marriage not for her own sake, but because he is protective of her virtue…

Edward protects her.

…So? Let's tie this in with spanking this year, shall we?

Grr. Edward PROTECTS HER! Which is amazingly hot to watch and to read, and I think that has something to do with why it's such a popular book.

Edward's not always NICE about it, though. Edward's always guiding her by the arm, forbidding her to do things that are dangerous, constantly scolding her, he forces her to do safe things….

I was REALLY hoping Edward would spank Bella sometime during one of the novels. Of course, it never happened. I knew it wouldn't. But I hoped it would.

Because Edward was exerting the personality type that WOULD spank. He's MUCH older than Bella—by nearly 100 years, so he's certainly more world-wise and mature, he's strong as can be, he's very capable, very disciplined, educated, non-hypocritical, understanding, and he's gorgeous.

So… Chivalry=good spanker?

I'm not saying that, but I certainly think it's a vital characteristic of a HOH. Chivalry says one very important thing about a man (I've said something like this before, but let's recap):

He understands that woman and men are different and he wants to take care of the woman. They normally think women are fragile, which we technically are: due to lesser physical capabilities and hormones that are beyond our control, we are emotionally and physically weaker than a man. Our sense of safety is fragile, and our feelings are even moreso. This type of guy doesn't want women to feel any sort of pain whatsoever.
He feels "dutiful": it's his duty and or privilege to cater to a woman.
The center of the universe CERTAINLY doesn't revolve around him. That much, he is sure.

So, do you have to wait for a vampire to fall in love with you before you can get some chivalry?

No, not exactly. Supposedly, you can find a guy that has it. I don't know if you can find one that has as much as Edward Cullen, of course, but definitely some variations. The thing is, not that many men are chivalrous gentlemen anymore. It's the Twenty-first century.

What does the century have to do with it?

A lot, actually. Mostly because we've been ripping chivalry out of men since women's liberation in the 1920s. That's 90 years of telling men that we don't need their chivalry—that we're not fragile, and we're not different, and we can open our own doors, thank you very much.

Here's the article I read that just made my stomach roll from Marie Claire (Click here to view the original article):

Is Chivalry A Dying Art?

June 5, 2009 10:20 AM by Rich Santos One of my vivid childhood memories took place on a soccer field. When I was four or so, the soccer leagues were co-ed. In those days there was no method to the madness for us fledgling players. The ball would move and we'd all follow it in a gigantic swarm rivaling biblical locusts, with no organization or strategy to score a goal.

In one game, as we followed the ball after it popped out of the mob, I noticed a little girl trailing behind us and saw that she had fallen down in the mud. I was faced with a choice: follow the ball toward our goal, or turn around and help the girl. No one had stopped to help her up, or acknowledge that she had fallen down. Furthermore, something about the mud all over her (even in her blonde hair), the fact that she was alone and she could have been hurt, compelled me to turn around and check on her.

On the sideline my coach implored me to worry about the girls later. The ball, by now, was way down near our goal. It was just the little girl and I on the other end of the field. I walked back to her and stuck out my hand and helped her out of the mud. I must have embarrassed her because her appreciative look was laced with a bit of defiance. This was my first conflicted moment with chivalry. I learned that she was perfectly capable of picking herself up out of the mud (thank you very much).

These days, I rarely get to be chivalrous. I am desperately trying to be "cool,"-- not too easy or too nice. Plus, I don't think I am well-trained for chivalry. One time, my Southern friend Margaret complimented me for "walking street-side," on our way home from work. She explained that men traditionally walk street side in case a "passing buggy splashes water onto the sidewalk." Chivalry in the South is taken to a whole other level.

I hate those street solicitors who ask me to donate to cause A, B, or C as I try to avoid them on the sidewalk. They punctuate it with a 10-minute spiel. As soon as I see someone with a clipboard, or a branded shirt, I zig-zag out of there. Little did Margaret know that I had gone "street-side" that day to put her in the line of fire of a street solicitor. Hey, when it comes to street solicitors it's every man (and woman) for themselves.

Horses and buggies aside, there are plenty of chances to be chivalrous on dates in NYC:

Letting a woman on the elevator first
Pulling out a chair at a restaurant
Paying the bill
Walking someone home
Letting a woman in a cab first after opening the door

But there are reasons that guys avoid chivalry:

Don't Want To Look Too Nice. Guys are trying to find that sweet spot of nice but not too nice, while retaining little mystery. If we go out of our way all the time and wait on a girl hand and foot, we won't look attractive. Chivalry is great, but it's not special if it happens all the time.

Women's Rights. After her man holds the door and picks up her bags one too many times, a woman might be inclined to say: "hey I can do this myself." Doing too much for a woman can come off as condescending.

Don't Raise 'Em Like They Used To. Are younger men on board with chivalry? Because of society's shifting values, chivalry could be dying. You may see less of it in the street these days because there is less focus on educating young men about chivalry.

I practice "part-time chivalry." I'm much more of a gentleman at a fancy event like a wedding than I am when I am tumbling into a diner late night drunk at 4AM. But I wonder if I should be chivalrous the majority of the time.

I remember the warm fuzzy feeling I had when I helped the girl on the soccer field. I felt like I was doing the right thing. Things were much simpler then, but I bet most women want some chivalry in her life. I'm just not sure how much chivalry is optimal.

How much chivalry do you like in a relationship? Are there certain chivalrous acts that you really love, or that turn you off? Is there any charm to a guy that doesn't practice chivalry? Do you see much chivalry out there these days, or do you agree that it's a dying art?

You can see where I'm disturbed. Have half the woman really done it in for the rest of us? Did the women who never say "thank you", never appreciate an open door, never smile at someone who helps them up when they fall… Did they ruin it for the rest of us? I'm not a mom yet or anything, but I want that for my daughter! I hate to think that it'll be long dead by that time.

Anyway, if you don't think this matters and that chivalry is dead, then let me tell you what's going to die right along with it. DD RELATIONSHIPS! That's right…. I said it. Because an HOH that has absolutely NO concept of chivalry is not doing to be a good HOH. He wouldn't have the right temperament. That's a fact.

WAIT—Women can destroy not just chivalry, but DD? But HOW? How did WOMEN DESTROY CHIVALRY in the first place?

As the article stated—he was going to help a girl out of the mud, and she acted indignant and embarrassed. Admittedly, I would be embarrassed too, but you have to be grateful. Women aren't grateful anymore. I don't blame men for not being chivalrous anymore. Why would they be chivalrous if they get nothing in return? Why go through the trouble, and let me assure you—it IS trouble for them. They weren't put on the planet to help us out; that's a duty they've taken upon themselves. It's a choice.

So, here's what you do if you want to reverse the cycle. I'm sure you're all very intelligent people, and that I'm preaching to the choir, but this is what you do:

Make eye contact, smile thank anyone who does ANYTHING nice to you. Eye contact is key. They equate it to recognition, and it must ALWAYS come with a smile and a thanks. The "thanks" MUST sound sincere, as if it was such a sweet surprise to find someone that kind. Here's the key:
1. Even if you don't want to date, or even think the person doing it is ATTRACTIVE—if they look like FRANKENSTEIN, you still do thank them? Why? Because they're being kind to you, and you must acknowledge and also because you want the men in the area to see the recognition you're giving to the chivalrous one.
ALWAYS compliment. If a man walks you home, all you have to do is THANK him and say, "that is just so nice of you". That's all. They'll feel good about themselves all day. Eye contact. Smile. If someone even OFFERS to do something for them, thank them, and tell them how wonderfully nice they are.
Teach your sons that women need special care, and to always have good manners DISPITE the feedback they get.

Yep. That's all you can do. It's not much. It's quick. 2 seconds and then, of course, pass it on to the next generation. But so little you do makes the largest differences. We have so much to make up for. We have to retrain 3 billion men in this world. We have our work cut out for us!

Casual Chauvinism and the T-Shirt Wars

2009-06-07T17:20:00.000-07:00

Korey has been asking me to post, and I've been planning to do so, for quite some time. The trouble is that I always have things I want to post, and I think through what I'm going to say... then I think of something to add, then something else, and on and on, until I realize that the post will be so long that I have neither the time nor the energy to write it. So, I promised Korey I would keep my posts at least reasonably short, so that I can actually make myself take the time to write them.

Korey and I were at the outlet mall today, and we walked by a store selling BBQ equipment, including some aprons. In order to make these aprons appropriately manly (it is BBQ, after all, not baking cookies), they all had various manly phrases about meat, or sports, or cars. One of them had this statement, obviously directed at the manly apron wearer's wife: "In the time it took you to read this, you could already have gone and gotten me a beer." I admit I laughed out loud at this. However, it also made me think about how accepting our society has become of what I would call casual chauvinism. I'll give a better definition for this term later.

While thinking about this, I remembered another time a few years back when I was struck by the same concept. My girlfriend and I had just had a relatively petty argument which had turned into a fight, and she was laying in the sun on the beach (we were spending a day at the ocean while visiting her family, who live near the Texas Gulf Coast). I wandered into a large shop dedicated to selling all types of T-shirts. As I wandered, I noticed that one entire section was devoted completely to girls' T-shirts with various insults toward men printed on them. Many of them were the usual, benign girl-power stuff, like "If it has tires or testicles, its going to give you trouble." However, I noticed that quite a few others had pretty harsh insults on them, attacking the average man's intelligence, abilities, looks, etc. I honestly don't remember what any of them said, but I remember thinking that these were far more insulting than the average T-shirts sold in mall kiosks.A silly thing to be bothered by, of course, but I was in a bad mood toward women at the time, due to my recent argument, and so I looked around the store for similar T-shirts designed for men. I soon found them, but they just depressed me further. Of course there were the usual "FBI: Female Body Inspector" and similar shirts, which could in a way be considered a response to the insults heaped upon men in the other section, but these didn't satisfy me. I don't really know what I was looking for, exactly. I didn't seriously expect to find a T-shirt with "If you don't treat me with more respect, young lady, I'll take you over my knee and spank your bottom bright red!" printed on the front, although that would have been nice. I think I just wanted something at least somewhat mature and intelligent, which again was silly because I was at an oceanside T-shirt shop, but again that was the mood I was in at the time.

Finally, I saw a T-shirt alone on a display. I couldn't read it from the angle where I was standing, but I already knew this T-shirt had something to say. It stood out, apart from the others. As I came closer and looked up at it, I got my hopes up. Here, at last, would be the response of the male sex to all the abuse. It was solid black, with large, bold white lettering on the front. The phrase was simple, unequivocal, and profound:

"I will destroy you with my enormous cock."

This was not the response I had hoped for from my half of the species. However, it did make me think about what society will accept from men, and what it will not. Society will accept chauvinism from men, as long as it is done in a lazy, stupid, boys-will-be-boys type of way. This is what I referred to earlier as casual chauvinism.

Now, I need to end this post in order to keep with my "short-post" promise, but there are two separate issues I would like to address in follow-up posts.

First, why has it become acceptable in society for women to constantly, aggressively, and harshly bash not just individual men, but the entire male sex? I'm not talking about playful poking of fun between the sexes, I'm talking about a sustained attack on everything that could be loosely considered male.

Second, why has it become acceptable for men to descend deep into chauvinism, as long as they do so in a way that is lazy, stupid, and slobbish? Just as an example, why is it that if a man were to walk around in public with a shirt that said "A woman should be naked, in the kitchen, making me a pie" that wouldn't really make anyone raise an eyebrow, but if a man walked around in public with a shirt saying "In a Christian marriage, the man is the head of the household" he would have feminists parachuting in to confront him in a matter of minutes?

The Mother-In-Law Finds OUT

2009-06-05T14:43:00.001-07:00

Was it even a month that I wrote that I wouldn't tell my mother in law about my lifestyle until I was pregnant with her second—not first, that's too soon—grandchild? Yeah, I'm a lying liar who lies, obviously. Because we told her this last weekend.

…Huh?

Yeah. I know. CRAZY. It's my fault we had to tell her, actually. We were staying at her house when I got the letter from Bethany, with my promotion. And OF COURSE I had to tell my folks right away. I told James, "I have to tell mom and dad," and he snorted. "No, wait—I have to tell ALLISON!" I decided; Allison's my last roommate who I've adopted as the sister I've never had.

"No," he said, sighing. "Wait to tell Allison until we get home, alright? We only have so much time, and…"

"Alright," I said, thinking how odd it was that he was fine with me telling my parents about my promotion but not Allison—I talk just as long with my parents. I was excited about telling them, you see: they would be very interested to know that I now had a "real job" and might now stop mailing me job opening posts from craigslist.

What I misunderstood was that he didn't want me telling ANYBODY until we left his mother's house. The walls are like PAPER. I don't know what magical thing happens there—but it the walls do NOTHING to trap sound. And so, when I was talking about me being promoted, James’ mom, James' mom, overheard this. She didn't say anything, but she heard.

I'm going to pause here to clarify what everyone around us thinks I actually DO:

Allison & Travis: Best Friends. There are no secrets between us. They know everything.

My Family: Knows that I work for a specialty erotica company, and are fine with it. I also have informed them that I don't want them in my business, and I don't want to tell them which one. I assured them they wouldn't like it. They DO NOT know that I'm into spanking. If they eventually do find out, however, I'm sure they'll be released to know we're not into something crazy, like furries or golden showers. Because I'm going to assume that they've already prepared themselves for the worst, kinkiest thing in history.

James' Friends & Family: Don't know about the erotica and don't know about the spanking. They think I'm a simple housewife that occasionally maintains a "friend's blog".

So: this conversation she overheard, even though I never mentioned "erotica", qued James’ mom to the fact that I've been lying and that I HAD a job for awhile and I've now been PROMOTED.

James comes in furious: he assumed I understood his meaning about the no phone calls to ANYBODY because of the WALLS. So, James makes me go on a car-ride. This doesn't mean anything good—he fully plans to spank me to a pinnacle that I am not prepared for; especially because I'm too stupid to even think I've done anything wrong. But I did know this much by now: James’ mom heard EVERYTHING.

Because I can't come up with a good excuse about "what I do" I just told James that we should tell his mother. James calms down when he realizes I wasn't blatantly defying him and decides not to spank me.

So, we went home, I took a shower, and James told his mother about the spanking.

It did not go well. Lunch with the extended family that hour was very awkward. And I'm new to the family and the "in law", so it's naturally awkward for me, anyway! His mother was noticablly upset--enough to make James' father think it was about him somehow. ( James wants to tell his father, too... But I'm very uncomfortable with that. I'm not as close to his father. I don't think he requires as much information as his mother does.)

So—there was a slight family upset.

But, James went in back with his mom and they got to talking about it and I think James’ mom actually understands it—that it's for discipline, and for sex, and everything else, and it's HOW WE MET. It must have been a real "OH! I SEE!" moment for her.

HOWEVER: We're STILL lying, so we don’t even get to feel good about “the truth”.

Because we can't tell James’ mom about the erotica portion of what I do. She would think that there was something morally wrong about it. James made it sound that everything my company publishes is all of good Christian values with no sex before marriage and all of that—something she would agree with. God, I hope she never goes to RomanticSpankings.com and reads ANYTHING by Darla Phelps (who write a LOT of age-play), or that story about the Alien that trains his "human" pet with a bunch of spankings—as good as that story is (I think it's called "Bach" or Bach: A pet story" or "Bach's Pet"… It's actually strangely good. You judge yourself slightly when you're reading it, but it's good nonetheless.) ANYWAY—I do NOT just publish CDD stuff.

AND James told her that I write this Blog and promised to give her the link for it.

NO. I know what you're thinking, and NO. We will NOT show her this blog.

I doubt the blog where I complain about how much her daughter is in need of a spanking would go well, to say the least. So, I CREATED A NEW BLOG. It's just like this one, only with only 2/3s of the posts and no "naked" pictures. Very PG-rated. It's called "The DD Life" at theddlife.blogspot.com. Talk about non-explicit, too—the banner has COFFEE in it. COFFEE—the least erotic thing on the planet! Sigh. What a pain in the ass. I doubt she'll even ever read it. Would you, if your daughter in law was writing about her personal spanking experiences? No. Of course you wouldn't.

I feel strange, I feel awkward, and I have NO idea of how it's going to go when she visits us this weekend. I wish I could just bury my head in the sand, but instead, I have to hope for the best. I asked James if we could go on like we've never told her.

"This isn't the sort of thing you can pretend you didn't tell someone," he told me yesterday.

"Are you kidding?" I said incredulously. "This is EXACTLY the sort of thing you pretend you didn't tell someone!"

So, folks: I'll promise to keep you informed as to how it goes. Keep your fingers crossed for me, please.

The Testimony

2009-05-31T20:28:00.001-07:00

Hi Folks,
Sorry it's been awhile again. I know I'll post more once I'm living in Albuquerque for the summer, but lately I've been doing construction on the house, selling the house, buying a condo, and doing MAJOR renovations on the condo (tile floors, new paint, new carpet, new cabinets, new handrails) and to keep it cost-effective WE have to do all the labor ourselves (except put in the carpet and the granite countertops. We're not CRAZY!)

All the while, Bethany at Bethany's Woodshed just hired me to FULL TIME! Whee! Which is awesome, but with everything going on, it makes me a very bad blogger.
BUT I'm posting what I always meant to—my testimony. It was a DD testimony that I sent into Bethany's Woodshed back in November that we haven't gotten around to organizing. So YOU ALL get first peek! Here it goes….

An Occasionally Painful yet Happy Solution:

A Testimony of Korey Johnson

I can't even remember how many times James has come home from work harrumphing about his friends' wives. "Chris needs to grow a pair," he would grump. "Do you have any idea what Miranda did this time?" Naughty wives abound in this world, and we think we're so fortunate to have figured out a solution.

James spanks me for discipline. Alright--sometimes he just spanks me because he's a little kinky, but there are so many distinctions between the two that there is never any question which is which. Or at least there's one very large distinction: discipline spankings are extremely painful. Luckily, I'm a rather well-behaved young wife, which means that I only get spanked about twice a month on average. (Please, take "on average" as a purely mathematical figure, I sometimes get spanked 5 days in a row and then don't get spanked for 3 months.)

When do these spankings occur? Why? Well, I'm pretty good at not repeating the "why" very often. My first spanking was for bad language. My latest spanking was for letting a check bounce, and not even calling the bank to ask how it could have been avoided, even though he asked me repeatedly.

From the first spanking to the latest--I doubt it was the last, but we can hope--there has been a "method" to the spanking. He calls me into the room. "Korey!"

I shrink. "What?" I ask, hoping he fell and needs some help up. But I know just by the sound of his voice that he's at least thinking about spanking me.

"Just come here."

I sigh and quit doing whatever I'm doing. "I didn't do anything," I'll complain as I walk through the door.

"We need to talk." He says, and I immediately interpret those lines as this; "You need a spanking."

"About what?"

And he will say what I did. Sometimes I'll have a good excuse, like, "The reason the credit card bill is so high, is that I took my mother out to get our nails done, and she had just taken me out to lunch… and I wanted to be nice to her." He'll just sigh and say, "Alright. Just remember that we're trying to save money." He'll give me a kiss and the incident will be forgotten.

Most of the time I won't have a good excuse. I mean, there's a reason why I do everything, and I so I can--and will--explain my reasoning. But my reasoning, though normally innocent, sometimes sucks. "Well, the bank wasn't going to tell me something I didn't know," was my latest reasoning. "And you know how the beauty parlor couldn't get my credit card to run, so I had to use my debit card."

"Why not the other credit card?" he asked.

"Because I didn't want to look through my wallet for it, I was just trying to pay fast." This, ladies and gentlemen, is a sucky excuse--I'll be the first to admit it. It was true: I just wanted to get out of there and the hairstylist who was cashing me out was also in the middle of another client. But that didn't mean I needed to use the debit card from my personal checking account that barely has any money in it, when we have a joint account that did have plenty of money. I just grabbed a card and blew through the consequences.

He'll explain what I did wrong, reminding me that regardless of what card I used at the hairstylist, I still shouldn't have later written a check without knowing if there was enough money in my account to cover it. He will tell me that he knows that I can do things the right way because I'm an intelligent, educated person, and that I just need to not rush through things when money is involved. The specific lecture changes, of course, but the message is always the same. He knows I can do better; he would never spank me unless he was absolutely sure I could do better. When the lecture draws to a close, he'll tell me to pull down my pants.

The trick is to not lower my panties--just the pants. If he can wear out a few slaps on the fabric, that's all the better. The spanking will last until he believes I've learned my lesson… or until he can't use his hand anymore…whatever comes first. Panties, as thin as they are, really shield the blows. Panties are magic.

But eventually the panties will come down, and it will not be a good moment. I'm already sore by the time they come down, and will beg, "James, please." James has stopped listening to me by this point. Nothing I say is going to make him stop. He's going for a shade of redness and will not cease until he gets there.

Did I say during the spanking I'm acting like a wounded raccoon? Well--I am. I'm kicking, though not successfully. My pants are around my feet and my panties are around my knees and his thigh is normally keeping my knees pinned down. I don't bite only because I know it would go so much worse, but I'll still always consider biting.

Instead, I howl. I howl and tear at the bed sheets, I pull my own hair, I squish my hands against my face. I try to block out the pain in my mind, but this is of course unsuccessful. I try to beg, but try is the operative word here. I am beyond begging--I'll open my mouth and crying gibberish comes out instead.

Everyone; I do not take a spanking "gracefully". Graceful is beyond comprehension in moments like these. In fact--I think anyone who claims that they can take one gracefully is either lying, because they can't, or they're not being spanked as hard as I am. James efficiently brings me to the brink of what someone can stand without trying to heartily defend themselves.

Still, James only spanks with his hand, and his hand only connects with my thighs or that beloved "sit spot", which we hate when we're looking into mirrors yet so tenderly care about in moments like these. When James finishes, he rubs my bottom a little, which feels oddly good, and normally I catch my breath.

James and I decided in the beginning of our relationship that we would not have sex after a punishment spanking--we wanted the punishment spanking to be and feel different. James is unquestionably erect after a punishment spanking--he can't touch my bottom for a millisecond without becoming erect, God bless him, but at times like these he doesn't want sex. And neither do I. We really just want to hold and comfort each other. I look forward to these moments; it's probably when we're closest as I feel so vulnerable--I'm out of breath, normally still crying, and he's feeling bad that he had to spank me.

This is important--I don't know if I would trust James if he liked putting me in pain or discomfort. He hates it as much as I do, but he looks on it like his duty, as I believe a disciplinarian should.

If you're wondering how James and I got into a relationship like this--or even why this lifestyle suites us so well, then I'm going to tell you that it's a bit complicated. For my part, there was always a little bit of "weird" in me that got me turned on to such a lifestyle as this in the first place.

I remember very far back into my childhood, and a truth that remains constant from the earliest memory is a strange truth indeed—I've always been completely entranced with spankings.

It was an odd pet to have, and it wouldn't be until I was about fifteen that I would come to the realization that I wasn't too weird; there were a lot of people like me. There were a lot of people that would read any book they could get their hands on, scanning for a spanking scene, or watching movies just to see the blessed event.

Little did I know when I was fifteen, that 2000 miles away, in Texas of all places, was my soul mate—a man who had grown up with the same interests. Unfortunately, life, uninterested boyfriends and school got in the way until my senior year of college, when, being freshly broken up with my fiancé, I was back on the prowl, looking for men. My best friends, bless their hearts, though I had trusted them with the identity of my interest, could never fully comprehend my heart's desire.

When it comes to friends of spankees, who are not spankees/spankers themselves, it is very unlikely that they'll ever completely understand people our interest--their minds are programmed to go right to abuse, or to BDSM. Their brains can't comprehend a man lovingly disciplining his wife. My friends try--but they think that spanking is still a merely sexual urge, not something I want underlying my life, so at this point they were trying to hook me up with "normal/vanilla" men and thereby were getting a bit in the way of my quest.

As you might have guessed, by that point I was fully keen on the life possible by "Christian Domestic Discipline", and although I hadn't even been to church in ten years, every fiber of my being ached for it. I read countless stories, testimonies, blogs… Getting into it was just harder than it sounds—for one, you need a boyfriend to be part of the domestic discipline life, and I had none. For another, finding a boyfriend that was interested in the same thing, after months of searching, was a bit of a rare find.

I'm a picky person and, after a close call with being forever in a relationship with a man who wouldn't make me happy, my new boyfriend "must have" list was quite immense, and I would not back up on it. I didn't just want a man that would gladly spank his girlfriend, I wanted a man who I thought in every sense was better than me, more responsible than me, and smarter than me and would help me become equally amazing through a sort of loving discipline. (Note that James does not agree that he is either better or smarter than me. He does agree that he is more responsible, and that is why he is more than willing to discipline me when necessary.) I was determined to let this fetish that had plagued me all my life finally be of some use to me, but finding the perfect man to implement that strategy was a delicate process which only the internet could provide.

I had almost given up on the spanking networking site when I got a message from a guy who was interested in what I was looking for. Suddenly, I was deep in conversation, and I stayed up until all hours talking to this faceless person from Texas (I was in Oregon then). Obviously, it was impossible for there to be a relationship—he was deep into grad school, and I had no intentions of going to Texas.

Yet, while I kept looking around, I was constantly in contact with this Texan, James. I loved chatting with him. Like me, his chats were made of long, well thought out sentences, and an interested dialogue that had a sternness to it. Although strange to say, every time we chatted he sent goose bumps up my spine. All of the sudden, we were exchanging numbers and photographs, talking on the phone, and in just a couple of weeks, we decided we had to meet.

Obviously, I had changed my mind slightly on this "going to Texas" issue, even though I already had an internship and job opportunity in Philadelphia. But there was something to James that I had to see for myself. He visited me in Oregon about a month after we first started talking.

He was gorgeous with dark blue eyes, a chiseled body, chestnut colored hair, a perfect smile… I wanted nothing more than for him to spank me—for any reason, for no reason. Just to get his hands on me. I wanted to slip under the covers with him and never come out.

Although he was against premarital sex (even though he knew I no longer had my virginity, thank you fiancé #1) he never hesitated on giving me an affectionate slap on the butt every now and then, but that week he refused to give me a discipline spanking—he wanted me to be comfortable with him and for us to build up a trust of each other first.

It wasn't until our 3^rd vacation together, when he visited me during my internship in Philadelphia, nearly 4 months after first meeting face-to-face, that he finally responded to my attempts to actually discover what a real spanking would be like. I knew how he felt about swearing—that it was the ugliest thing a woman could do—and when he met me I had quite a bad swearing habit. That whole week, I had just made it worse. I was looking for him to make good on his threat. He had promised previously to give me some time to adjust to the new "no swearing" rule, but now he had warned me that I was fast approaching a spanking.

Surprisingly, after I got the "the next time you swear, I'm going to spank you" threat, I just decided to try to ride out the threat and avoid swearing for the rest of his visit. Something in his voice made it sound like it was actually going to hurt, and that I wouldn't enjoy it as much as the spankings he would give me when we were fooling around.

Unfortunately, when I eventually earned this particular spanking, I was foolish enough to say the f-word in the shower. When I was naked. Needless to say, there's nothing on this planet more awkward than coming out of the shower, hair wet, skin chilled by air conditioning, and then having to answer to a very stern, very clothed, very handsome man. Butterflies were dancing around in my stomach, yet I was mostly excited. I was also more than a little embarrassed when he told me to set aside my towel, and made me stand there in front of him totally naked with my hands on my head while he briefly lectured me.

For the first few seconds after the lecture ended I had reason to be excited. As he pulled me over his jeans, it seemed extremely erotic.

Wow. Did that change fast. The first spank was not light, it felt like all my skin on my butt swelled up in an instant--worse than if I had just been slapped with a brick of ice or fire. I shrieked.

Until then, I had only read about women kicking and struggling and crying and begging and everything else, and then suddenly, there I was, living out my own little spanking story. As I was getting over the shock of the moment, James was doing what James has always done, and will almost certainly continue to do for the rest of our lives; lecture me while spanking.

The lecture during a spanking has always been strange to me--it's unnecessary effort, really, on his part. There's something strangely soothing about hearing another human being's voice while this is going on, of course--makes me remember that I'm not actually in hell--I imagine there's no talking there. But still, I'm not actually listening. The pain has overloaded all of the rest of my senses, making all the rest of them worthless. But still, James feels lecturing me during a spanking is important to the overall discipline.

I'm sure the whole hotel heard me that day--not that I cared. You don't care about much of anything but yourself during a spanking, let me assure you, but in retrospect I'm sure our neighbors were getting a good earful--and because of the cries, the spanks, and the lecture on top of it all, I'm sure they didn't have to stretch their imaginations much. If they could put two and two together, then they should have had no problem figuring out that I was getting a spanking--one that would take my hourly swearing occurrences strikingly down to nearly zero for the rest of my life.

But still, it felt so nice to be wrapped up afterwards by the arms of a fully-clothed man, who was constantly kissing my forehead and telling me he loved me. It felt wonderful. And swearing, as I said, was cured from me instantly. As much as I hate punishment spankings, damn it--they work. And I'm better for it.

These spankings make me feel like there's nothing to be guilty about, and that once it's over, it's like I'm forgiven and I don't have anything hanging over my head, which is such a nice change from earlier--I still feel guilty for cheating on a project my senior year in high school--guilt stays with me for a long time. I feel so much healthier, and happier.

As for James, you can tell that he's happy to have control of his life; he doesn't have a wife that runs him ragged or who tries to hamstring him, but every day when he comes home, he has someone who has everything she was supposed to have taken care of, taken care of. I won't ever embarrass him, and I always try to make him happy and he knows this.

Spanking me also makes him a better man. He doesn't want to fall into hypocrisy by giving me a spanking for things that he does himself, so he does whatever he can to hold himself to the same standards he holds me. The only reason I feel that this lifestyle isn't for everybody is because I feel not all men are like him--that too many men would take advantage of their wives.

As for us, domestic discipline has so greatly improved our lives, and I couldn't imagine having gone any longer without it in my life.

Head of Household Matters

2009-05-18T18:44:00.001-07:00

Alright, so I think everyone is aware that I am a large advocate of HOHs, and look back at a better time when there were more of them. 'Head-of-household' was a term that people of the non-spanking persuasion used quite frequently and quite consciously. Those were good times.

But you talk of men being the head of household NOW and people will look at you as if you just asked them for a weasel sandwich. I understand why. Times have certainly changed—whether or not they changed for the better is HIGHLY debatable, but they HAVE changed, and for the first time since the dawn of time one half of the population is now trying to do exactly what the other half had spent since the beginning of time getting good at. I think it's not our role as women to be HOH—not that we don't have power. I believe, in fact, that we have more power than anyone in our family—we are naturally attuned to everyone's emotions and can either hold a family together or tear it apart, depending on how we use this power. But we aren't head-of-household because we tend to get caught up more in the drama of life than in the practicalities. We tend to enjoy problems rather than try to fix it, except for the ones that don't need fixing—we like fixing those.

This has been our role—our strengths, and our problems, since time was known as 'time', and it was perfectly natural. We're social creatures for a reason, and we are truly in our element when we deal with feelings, connections, and health. But for everything else, we started along the line to put men in charge of that, maybe because we didn't want their awful responsibilities to start with. I don't know, but the men's job as protector, bread-winner, alliance-maker, war-fighter, politician and handyman is not 'fun', and neither is the unpopular position of HAVING the "last word" on something. And so we gave it up to men and promised, in return to try to 'obey' them.

But now, women are really opposed to the whole "obeying" point. And normally not because they don't think that someone in the relationship needs to be obeyed, only they'd rather have their cake and eat it, too. But the men so far, in the last couple of decades, have merely shrugged their shoulders, and found it in themselves to negotiate a position that they spent 1000 generations getting for themselves.

I recognize the original roles that my ancestors were good enough to render into a sort of tradition. And because of such, I went out on a limb to be traditional at my wedding. It was important to me that "obey" be in my half of the vows. Strangely, it wasn't that easy. Do you know how long it took me to find "obey" in wedding vows on the internet? The majority of weddings now leave it out of the vows altogether. Some ignore any sort of logic and put it in BOTH vows. I even saw some women on forums who argued that only the man should have obey in his half of the vows, although I don't know if this is just a "Yay! Girl Power!" thing, or if they actually married men who were so pathetically emasculated that they tolerated such vows.

It took two hours. AND I'm a good Googler. But every Christian denomination, even the conservative ones, has decided to avoid that vow like the plague, simply because it's "not PC". But my question is… Why? Why should having a man as head-of-household be a cultural taboo? It seems to me that it's a natural desire…

But THAT is one of those opinions that I've put in my pocket, especially during most dinner conversations. And then, last week, I picked up "Mere Christianity" because it was recommended to me. I was very startled to see my opinions written down in a way that I couldn't describe them, being that I have been a professional writer for only 2 years and CS Lewis had been, at the point of writing the book, publishing for 16 years. Obviously, he had it down by then and was quite skilled at his craft, and can actually make a persuasive argument, unlike myself. Here's what C.S. Lewis had to say on the subject:

"…So much for the Christian doctrine about the permanence of marriage. Something else, even more unpopular, remains to be dealt with. Christian wives promise to obey their husbands. In Christian marriage the man is said to be the 'head'. Two questions obviously arise here. (1) Why should there be a head at all—why not equality? (2) Why should it be the man?

(1) The need for some head follows from the idea that marriage is permanent. Of course, as long as the husband and wife are agreed, no question of a head need arise; and we may hope that this will be the normal state of affairs in a Christian marriage. But when there is a real disagreement, what is to happen? Talk it over, of course; but I am assuming they have done that and still failed to reach agreement. What do they do next? They cannot decide by a majority vote, for in a council of two there can be no majority. Surely, only one or other of two things can happen: either they must separate and go their own ways or else one or other of them must have a casting vote. If marriage is permanent, one or other party must, in the last resort, have the power of deciding the family policy. You cannot have a permanent association without a constitution.

(2) If there must be a head, why the man? Well, firstly is there any very serious wish that it should be the woman? As I have said, I am not married myself, but as far as I can see, even a woman who wants to be the head of her own house does not usually admire the same state of things when she finds it going on next door. She is much more likely to say 'Poor Mr. X! Why he allows that appalling woman to boss him about the way she does is more than I can imagine.' I do not think she is even very flattered if anyone mentions the fact of her own 'headship'. There must be something unnatural about the rule of wives over husbands, because the wives themselves are half ashamed of it and despise the husbands whom they rule. But there is also another reason; and here I speak quite frankly as a bachelor, because it is a reason you can see from outside even better than from inside. The relations of the family to the outer world—what might be called its foreign policy—must depend, in the last resort, upon the man, because he always ought to be, and usually is much more just to the outsiders. A woman is primarily fighting for her own children and husband against the rest of the world. Naturally, almost, in a sense, rightly, their claims override, for her, all other claims. She is the special trustee of their interests. The function of the husband is to see that this natural preference of hers is not given its head. He has the last word in order to protect other people from the intense family patriotism of the wife. If anyone doubts this, let me ask a simple question. If your dog has bitten the child next door, or if your child has hurt the dog next door, which would you sooner have to deal with, the master of that house or the mistress? Or, if you are a married woman, let me ask you this question. Much as you admire your husband, would you not say that his chief failing is his tendency not to stick up for his rights and yours against the neighbors as vigorously as you would like? A bit of an Appeaser?"

Yep. I, too, was thrilled. I think there's a whole lot more to it than that, mind you. But it's definitely a worthy and dependable name to spit out in defense of men at the dinner table when your feminist friend comes to dinner, and comes with a small pre-set argument.

I am the last person who would say that women are not useful, or in any way a lesser person then men. I am extremely proud of my gender. I tend to look upon the most feminine, maternal people with a great respect and jealousy, and the more I am like them, the happier and more at peace I find myself. I feel taken care of, but on the other hand, I feel like everyone respects the role I'm able to provide, and James, my husband, feels more confident in his role by providing it.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that little bit of fun with you. I'll post again shortly.

Living It vs. Reading It [Vol. I]

2009-05-05T20:25:00.001-07:00

What? This is going to come in VOLUMES? Are you kidding?

No. There's a lot I have to say on the issue! I write romance novels, so I like I know how I write spanking scenes. But I'm also in a DD relationship, so I know how to take spanking scenes. And they're different. You can't read a story and think that's just the way you actually spank someone, and the more you read the more you're going to do it right.

In a lot of ways, spanking is like exercising. You can't read yourself thin. You got to get on that treadmill and do it over and over and over again until your thighs stop rubbing together when you walk. Spanking is much the same way: you can't become a good disciplinarian by reading about it.

Are you seriously writing to tell your audience that you shouldn't be reading about all of this?

Well, I like to think I'm an information wizard, but I'm also a realist. I'm just here to INFORM you about the REALITY of the situation.

Lesson Number One: Over the Knee Spankings

Is the chair for sitting or for spanking?

It normally doesn't look like this. Not discipline spankings. In fact—my mind cannot fathom what situation is going on here.

Over the knee spankings make a lot of sense, on the whole: you can put your leg over the woman's to keep her legs from kicking all around at you, you can pin her hands back from covering herself, and you have your spanking hand wide open to accomplish its purposes.

Over the chair can get sort of… Hard. In writings, you see this all the time. Romanticspankings.com, for example, has a story called "The Spanking Chair". I'd say 95% of spankings within erotic literature have the man giving the woman a spanking over the knee as he sits on the chair. I did it in my own, story, for god sakes! Pursuit of Glory has several chair spankings in it, which I admit doesn't depict any of the downsides of chair spankings.

The Downsides of Chair Spankings

1. It's hard to position the bottom right in the middle of your lap.

You'll find there are ribs and all sort of things in your way. You'll think "Wow.. My lap is wide!" Because it is. It's not some sort of bar she's leaning over—her mid-thigh to her chest area will be resting on two knees, and all of her weight will be on your knees. It might be tough on you, even, to support that sort of weight.

2. You really can't hold her legs down that well, causing you to lose control.

If you try to pin her legs with one of yours, that means your other knee will be driving into her stomach, since there's nothing else supporting her weight.

3. Blood will start quickly flowing into the face of the spankee.

Gravity. What are you gonna do? But seriously, if her face is lower than the rest of her body, that's where all the blood's gonna go, and it's not pleasant. I'm sure there's some countries that hang people upside down as a torture.

4. The spankee will find difficulty breathing.

This is mainly because most of your body weight is on his lap, going through your stomach area. It's not impossible to breath, but you can't breathe deeply. A knee's jamming into your stomach, for crying out loud! However, this will probably take you mind off the pain a bit…

5. You can't hold the spankee's arms back, or else she will have even more difficulty breathing.

Your spankee needs her hands free to be able to put them on the floor to support her body weight. She might alternate hands to keep one on her butt and away from your hand, but she's really going to need both of them to be free, or else her arms may wear out quickly.

Let me illustrate my point with some examples, may I?

1. This will simply not do it for discipline, folks. The hands are in a state of propel. They are free. They will cover the bottom, they will push her body away at the first signs of real pain.

2. See where the feet are? That's right. Comfortably on the ground. Soon, they will propel her wherever she wants to go, because she is still in control of her body with her feet like this.

This is what's going to happen. See…. Her head will become filled with blood and she'll get a headache, her arms are both free…

This isn't quite the same thing, is it? Because it's a sofa-thing, not a chair thing. But it's an AWESOME piece of furniture. I like it.

But I think you get my point, though, folks. Just because it works in your mind doesn't mean it's that easy to do in practice. Supportive/negative commentary, anyone? People need to know the facts about this position.

Keeping it outside the family

2009-05-02T11:04:00.001-07:00

I think it is a common agreement among many in the spanking community that they do not let their DD or their spanking interests become public knowledge. No public spankings. In the unlikely instance that the police (or anyone else) ever came to the door on a noise complaint from a worried neighbor, an educated spanko will say, "Oh, we were just getting into it with sex games". This is because most people just won't understand real discipline spanking. They get "BDSM". Ride on the back of that to keep from people considering you a "wife-beater" or "battered wife". They're not going to "get it". Don't even try.

What's even BETTER known is, even if you would LOVE to tell your family what you do and how your relationship works, you don't. You shouldn't.

But it's hard if you have a family member that REALLY needs it. Take James' family. You've never seen so many girls in one family that need a spanking. It's ridiculous. There's…

My sister-in-law. She's just turned 21, and has more than 10 speeding tickets (all for going significantly (20+ mph) over the speed limit). She's failed most of her college classes, dropped out, is late to everything and parties every night. She's recently started smoking, too. When she speaks, she's nothing but bratty, selfish and sarcastic. What's really horrible about the situation is that she's a good, hard-working girl who just needs a decent, hard-working well-adjusted guy to give her a spanking every day for a year or so, and she'd be fixed right up. She's pretty too… Any guys out there up for a challenge? What's harder about her, is James KNOWS for a FACT that when she was a child she was just as interested in spanking as he was (nothing creepy, just from her keen interest in specific scenes in books like Little House on the Prairie, Caddie Woodlawn, and other books where a discipline spanking is described). But, they haven't talked about it at all for 12 years or so, and never in the context of a DD relationship. However, chances are that she's still into it. Anyway... If a willing (and age appropriate J) guy wants to be set up in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area… I'd make arrangements for the right guy. That's all I'm saying.

James' cousin. Barbara is a hard worker, and dependable when it comes to showing up to family functions. She's a successful lawyer, and she's good at her job. Too bad that she's in her early 30s and there's very little HOPE that she'll ever marry. Even though she's beautiful. Why? Because she's the rudest person you've ever met in your life. You get used to it—her family brushes it off based on the fact that she's OCD and slightly bipolar—but she's not rude because of either of those things. You can tell that she's just rude because she thinks that makes her cool.

Don't get me wrong. You can NOT spank OCD or bipolar out of someone, nor should you try, those are real psychological issues. However, neither of those FORCES a person to be rude, and when people tolerate that behavior it just reinforces it. I feel bad for her, because it seems like nobody has ever stood up to her about anything, instead they just refuse to get close to her.

James' other cousin. Hillary is nice, but very lazy. Her parents' house is close to being foreclosed on, and her father lost his job, yet she still won't get her own apartment or make any attempt to pay rent. Far more interested in buying a new cell phone. I don't know if spanking can cure selfish, but I would sure like to see it tried!

That's most of James' female relatives! At least in this generation. And they all need a spanking. But not just any spanking—one from a very, very patient guy who cares a lot about results and can see hidden potential. Someone who's not perturbed by a fixer-upper.

James and I actually plan to break the "no telling family" rule one day. We think it would be good to eventually tell James' mother that I do bring in some income, and at least some aspects of what I actually DO. But we want to wait until I'm pregnant with her SECOND grandchild (not the first, but the second). That way, we'll have been married for about six years and she'll be able to see that we're perfectly happy and well-invested in our relationship and that it's something that really, truly works. But we can never tell anyone else. Nobody else would have a chance of getting it. Certainly not MY parents. My brother would understand but he would tell my parents as soon as I told him.

I think the most horrible thing, as you can see, is seeing a problem, and thinking it could be fixed, but not being able to offer your advice. Like to James' sister—she might really want a guy who spanks her. I'm 90% sure that she would. But that 10% leaves us in a world of doubt… SHOULD we tell her what we do? Maybe she would find some match on the internet. I don't know what to do. I want to see her leading a better life than she is now. She needs to be reigned in, and her loser-boyfriend, who's she's not even that serious with—ain't gonna do it. He can barely manage his own life!

Anyway, you can see how torn I am. I think about it constantly—should I open that door? Or should I do the sensible thing all spankos do—shut the door, lock it, bolt it, and put a heavy chair under the knob just in case.

Any opinions or commentary would be appreciated, folks. If you had a sister-in-law that you wanted with a good guy who would do the only thing that would work for her—to spank her—would you finally "Open the door" on the spanking secret? Or should I sew my lips shut?

Paying the Toll

2009-04-16T21:10:00.001-07:00

As some of you know, I'm an Oregonian who currently lives in Texas. In all my days driving through Oregon, I have only had to pay one toll—which was to cross the Bridge of the Gods into Washington. Oregon uses gas taxes as a means of paying for roads, and it really seems that they have taken that to heart, and therefore keep the amount of toll-paying down as much as possible.

Nowhere else, it seems, is that way. I was aghast when I had to pay 3 dollars every time I came from New Jersey to Philadelphia when I lived in Pennsylvania a couple of summers ago. I've just gone without paying a time or two. I was in a rental car, anyway. But now, I'm not so lucky. I never have that much money in my car—hell, I'm lucky if I have 90 cents in change. Isn't that what they designed credit cards for? Not having to worry about the frivolities of physical cash?

So, when I had to pay the toll last summer while visiting a lady about cake for my wedding, I didn't have money in the car. So I just went through the toll booth in the lane for cars with an electronic toll tag, even though I don't have one. This had happened before—the state takes down my license plate and sends me a bill, tacking on an extra dollar for the inconvenience I've laden upon them.

So, I got a bill for this day, too. And I meant to pay it… But then it ended up in a drawer somewhere and I forgot about it.

And I meant to pay when I got the first and second reminder letters, too. But come on—you know how these things are! You stick them somewhere, and you only think about them when you get a bill from a BILL COLLECTION AGENCY with an additional payment of FIFTY BUCKS for not paying the toll.

I almost piddled myself when I saw the letter in the mailbox—an official sort of letter from Idaho with my name on it. I do no business with Idaho, so I had a feeling it was nothing good. The only attention I might have deserved from Idaho was because of a toll road in TEXAS.

So, surely my credit's taken a hit at this point, and I'm writing a check from our joint checking account, knowing that I'm going to have to come clean because James is the type who would look at our bank statement and wonder what a $50 charge was doing on there.

Unfortunately, not saying anything about it and hoping James would never notice wasn't an option. Not saying anything about something like this is as good as lying in James' book. And I've never had the spanking for lying. James assures me that I really don't want to go there. When he talks about people deserving an "extreme spanking" where a switch is cut and all that nonsense, he describes the deservees as "women who drive drunk and women who lie to their husbands". So he puts lying to him up there with drunk driving and getting arrested. Perfect. He says it is because trust is so very critical to a marriage.

So, knowing that I was going to have to tell James and just really, really hope that James had the best day EVER, I was dreading his coming home. He had gone with friends to play a game of disc golf that afternoon. I tried to make things better on myself by helping out in "The Wood Room", which is a room in our house that James is rebuilding (so named for its partly finished wooden paneled walls). The previous owner started converting the garage into a room, but only got about halfway done. I cleaned the dust and excess wall texturing off of the windows that were open right in front of the driveway.

Chris, James' best friend, was actually driving the group to and from disc-golf, which is a rarity. Normally James comes home all by himself, as he has to spend an hour dropping off his friends, but when they both drove into the driveway, my spirits were up since they were both in a rather good mood—meaning that James probably won a game. Finally, James came in and asked how my day was and immediately thanked me for helping with the room.

I had been working very hard all day—painting cabinets in the kitchen. Which really was not fun at all, and I probably looked as tired as I felt. So, when I finally told him about the bill, I sounded very angry with myself and the whole situation. He said that we would take a shower and talk about it later, but was cut short because Chris was suddenly standing right in front of the open windows.

James was about to discuss my upcoming spanking, which would have made a very good side-story to the event, because we were about to blow Chris' mind with the private details of our relationship. He had come back to grab his cell phone (which he'd forgotten at our place), no doubt in time to hear my confession and see how miserable I was about it. If it was me looking in on the situation, my brain would have already gone to what was going to happen. But I don't think Chris is that imaginative.

Because, at this point, James didn't say anything about spanking yet—I like to think he won't decide to do it, although he said, "Take a shower with me, and afterwards we'll talk about it." Yeah, we'll "talk" about it. But it hasn't happened yet when he says "talk about it" that way that we've "talked about it" when I wasn't bare-assed and draped over his knee.

Still, we showered together (we're big on doing that even when we aren't in the mood for anything sexual, because we can chat without being distracted by anything, and we both like taking long showers), and we tried to talk about other things besides what I'd done. But I couldn't keep myself from bringing up the issue. I was frustrated with myself. "I can't believe I let that happen!" I grumbled.

"I know that sort of thing happens sometimes. I know you sometimes have trouble remembering things," he shrugged simply and kissed me. "Don't worry about it right now. After we're out of the shower, you should do a short write up on what happened exactly—because I don't really understand, and because it would be something to put on your blog. I'll read it, and then we'll talk about it."

"Is there anything I can do to avoid a spanking?" I said, truly hoping there was something I could do to get out of it.

"No," he said gently, so not to upset me. "I really don't think so."

I sighed, feeling suddenly resigned to my fate.

After the shower, I got on the computer and typed up this:

Back when visiting the cake lady for my wedding, I had to go through the toll booth. When I saw it coming up, I tried to get off the road and go around, but my attempts didn't work. I didn't have money in my car and I had very little change in my car. My ash tray merely contained pennies at that moment. So, I just went through. And I wasn't worried, because a similar situation had happened before, where for a few extra cents, I could pay online after they sent me a bill. On the way back, I was on the phone, forgot about tollbooths, and got hit again by the bill. Again, I was unconcerned. The bill was going to come anyway.

So, a couple of months later, the bill did come. I can't remember when it did, but I have a feeling it was just in time for the month of my wedding, and it was immediately forgotten about.

And another bill came. I'm sure it said, "Seriously. Pay it." And I really meant to—I was just not on the internet already, and I meant to get back to it. And it got buried in paperwork and forgotten about. I can't remember if there was a third or not—but if there was, I didn't even open it. I just meant to get online with my credit card and pay it. But I kept forgetting to do it.

And so, today, I saw an envelope, that was quite thick and from Idaho. It was from a financing company, asking for money for my tickets, originally of a $2.50 value, and with $50 of administrative fees. Now, I just feel foolish. $50 is a lot of money! And all because I kept putting something off…

Of course, this sealed the deal. James hadn't quite understood before that I had gotten two extra warnings from the toll road company. So, there was quite a few "boo-boos" involved. After I had handed him the laptop and he sat down to read what I had written, he sent me into the bedroom and told me to undress (even though I had JUST gotten dressed) and to be in the corner with only my panties on, and to have the belt and the paddle out of the closet and on the bed.

A trifecta of punishment is nothing to look forward to. But preparing for the eventual punishment, for me, is far easier than receiving extra for not doing as instructed. I got ready, and by the time I was nearly naked in the corner, James was done reading and was in the bedroom, thanking me for getting all of that done and, as always, he told me he loved me very much.

Then he started the lecture. Listening to his lecturing always tends to be a bit awkward—I'm nearly naked, and I'm normally very nervous and twitchy. But I do remember him mentioning the point that if I had just gone through the toll booth without paying, it's no big deal. Even if I forgot to pay until the first notice, it's no big deal, probably just a few swats with his hand, if anything. But ignoring the first notice… and then ignoring the SECOND notice… and possibly a THIRD… that got me into REAL trouble. And from now on, if he sees a bill waiting around the house that I haven't taken care of, I will get spanked immediately. (A bill specifically for me that is, James takes care of most of our finances, and we share our bank account, so I don't have very many bills to pay.) If I ever let something go this far without taking care of it again, I'll get a switching. (No, I've never actually been switched yet. It just sounds scary. James would never break the skin of course, but I'm sure it would hurt far worse than any spanking I've had before.) When I see something important I need to take care of, I need drop everything I'm doing and take care of it so that I don't forget. I'm sure there was more to the lecture, but that was the bulk of it.

And then I was pulled gently over his lap and the spanking began. As always, it started with the hand. You might think "Oh, a warm up!" But you're wrong. I swear James is a distant relation to the Tin Man. Call it what you will, but I'm definitely going to call it part of the real deal. It was even much longer of a hand spanking than usual, with special attention being paid to the backs of my thighs and the inner sides of my bottom cheeks.

After this "Warm up" my ass was already beat-red, and I was already crying. (And normally a hand spanking does NOT bring the tears out of me). He saw that I was already upset and gave me a hug and held me for awhile before he sent me back into the corner for a few minutes. (Trust me—corner time is awesome. It's time to cool down and collect myself so I don't lose it completely.) Afterwards, it was another lecture and we were back at it.

You all might remember the last BIG spanking I got with the belt. Well, this was no different. It was another moment of me laying with my back on the bed, James holding up my legs and going to town on my bottom. He spanked my already red bottom and thighs all over again. But I was bawling already, enough so he had to stop a couple of times to comfort me and give me a rest. But he wouldn't be talked out of finishing.

I cried all through my corner time afterwards. My bottom was throbbing, and most of all, I felt so stupid. He thought it was going to make me feel better when he came back with the wooden spoon and said that he was going to use that instead of the paddle. But I don't remember it making me feel any better—I was pretty inconsolable.

I don't know why, but when your ass is that red, you can feel everything! FINGERS feel like murder, let alone a wooden spoon. It felt like medieval weaponry. When he finally decided that my ass was PLENTY red, he gave me my last 10 spanks on the inside of my thighs—which I think were even more tender than my bottom. I think that might have been his point, though—he KNEW I hated those, but he wanted me to learn the lesson so he never had to follow through with the threat of cutting a switch. He made it clear that he really wanted it to be the last spanking for at least a good while, especially about the issue of procrastinating and then forgetting important things. (Yet, I got a spanking not three days later because of the food journal issue, which I wrote about a few days ago). Fortunately for me, he didn't follow through and use the switch for that spanking, because he felt he hadn't been reminding me properly. Of course he had no such worries in this case, since he had never known about the toll issue in the first place.

Afterwards, he had to comfort me for a LONG time before I felt normal again. It’s funny how the events during the course of the day could turn to that. An ass that I LITERALLY could not sit with for 2 full days. Sigh!

I like to think one day I'll screw my head on straight and avoid forever these sorts of situations. I've been doing quite well with the checklist James made me print out, so I think I'm on the right track.

The Evil Food Journal

2009-04-13T17:06:00.001-07:00

A lot of you know that I'm one of those who treat Domestic Discipline as some sort of "cause", and my husband and I, therefore, try to live as examples for other couples who might at some point consider using DD as a part of their relationship. Not that we've told any of our real life couple friends yet, but someday we might, and we would like to have some concrete examples of how it has helped us, both individually and as a couple.

We both believe that DD can help women accomplish goals that they have trouble accomplishing themselves. Achieving a goal weight is a prime example of this, since weight loss is a goal shared by so many women. It is also often a difficult and stressful goal to achieve, and one where we think domestic discipline can really play a useful role. Remember that we are talking here about goals that women have set for themselves. There are some rules that James makes, and enforces, whether I like it or not. The no swearing rule was one example, since I strongly disagreed with it when James and I first met, although I'm glad for it now. However, for a couple who is new to DD, a possible starting point might be the husband helping the wife to achieve some of her own, personal goals. It is a less daunting starting point for two reasons. First, from the wife's perspective, she isn't going to feel bullied or pushed around, because she is setting the goals herself. Second, from the husband's perspective, he doesn't have to feel any guilt or worry about spanking his wife when she isn't making choices that will help her reach her goals, because she set the goals herself, and she asked for his help. This makes it easier for him to ignore pouting, whining, arguing, or in my case, the patented "Aren't you being unreasonable?" look.

Now, back to the original point. When I have the body of a fine-tuned athlete with skinny legs ("Mick-Jagger legs" as I used to call them) and rock-hard abs as I did in high school, I still weigh 130 lbs. But right now I weigh 150. Since I got up to 180 in college, I think 150 is astounding, and a weight I have not seen in many moons. And for the most part, I think I already look quite good, and James agrees. I'm not overweight, but as most of you women out there know—it's not about looking "normal". It's about looking like a scorching hottie. We can accept nothing less from ourselves. Losing about 15 pounds is a goal I have set for myself. I spent the first year and a half since James and I met trying to achieve it on my own, with very limited success, so right after we got married I asked James to help. Losing weight over the honeymoon and over the Christmas holidays just wasn't going to happen, and James didn't even try to make or enforce any weight related rules. After the New Year, James asked me if I still wanted his help. He told me he thinks I'm very beautiful at my current weight, and so he was fine with whatever decision I made. He asked me to think about it, and make sure I wanted his help, since if he did help, he was making a promise to me that he would make sure I succeeded. I thought about it, and decided that I did want his help.

In addition to looking my best, I figure that if I can reach 130 again, and people ask how it's done, I'll just tell them, "My husband made me keep to it. Because he spanks me." (Not EXACTLY that sentence. I'm working on it.)

However, setting the goal is much easier than achieving the goal. And for James, offering to help is much easier than actually following through and making sure I eat right and exercise. And James has witnessed that although it seems I mind my eating habits and workout habits carefully, I still can't lose weight. He maintains that I haven't been able to work out and eat right consistently. He claims I do it for a week at a time, and then stop, and then start again later. And so, we've taken to the food journal. The food journal, in theory, removes any ambiguity from the process, since I can record exactly what I ate and when, and also whether or not I exercised, for how long, etc. I agreed to try "James' way", which I am skeptical of, because it is basically just what I've been trying for months now, except with James monitoring the process. If it works out, then James saying "I told you so" is a small price to pay for being skinny. If it doesn't, James will be able to attest to the fact that all the usual "diet and exercise" ideas aren't working, and I can go to a nutritionist and expect magic out of him. It helps if you have written down beforehand how much you're working out, how much you drink, how much you eat, and what time you DO all of that. At the end of the day, I expect that nutritionist to pass me over a magic pill that will cure me of pudge.

Food journals, however, are NOT easy. I have trouble remembering to take a pill every day, let ALONE remember to write it down every time I pull a Trisket out of the pantry. But for my goals, it must be done.

I've really been sucking it up on this task. In general, remembering to do things I don't really want to do is very difficult for me. This doesn't just apply to the food journal, it has come up many other times as well. In fact, you'll see another example in an upcoming post. I've never gotten so many spankings for one thing. My husband reminded me after my latest spanking the other day, "You have to start remember to do the things you promise to do. You've gotten more spankings over this issue than everything else put together." And it's true.

Many of you, like me, remember the spanking I got in the beginning of this March. You can look back into the archives if you don't know what I'm talking about (or just click HERE). That spanking was truly awful. The spanking I received this last Saturday, however, was pretty odd for a repeat spanking due to the fact that it could have been much worse, and I couldn't have argued about that.

My parents had come to town for about ten days, and after the 3^rd day I lost my food journal (and I didn't look very hard for it, to be honest), then even when I found it a couple of days later I didn't add anything to it. After the last spanking, you'll recall, I set up Microsoft Outlook so that every evening at 8:30 I get a reminder about my food journal. I got these messages, but then proceeded to ignore them. So, when I was filling in the pages with the best of my memory after my folks' departure, I fessed up to what I was doing. I didn't want to be accused of lying (which I really never want to be accused of, since James informs me that the spanking would be of historical proportions). James was in the middle of making a pizza, but he became very thoughtful.

After the pizza was made, however, he sent me, with my food journal, into the bedroom. (The bedroom has informally become the "punishment room". I don't think this is for any reason except that I feel uncomfortable being spanked in wide open spaces like the living room, and we're creatures of habit). I mildly protested, but not for too long. He looked serious, but not angry. Just disappointed.

Without much further ado, I did as I was told. James was right behind me, and began the lecture as soon as he rounded the doorframe. "I know it's not easy," he began. "And I know that your parents are distracting, and I'm really grateful for all the work you guys did on the house. But you really have to remember the food journal. It's just one thing. And you HAVE to do it right after you eat—every time. I blame myself this time; I need to remind you." You see, James has asked me on several occasions to make a daily checklist, so I don't forget things, but he's never MADE me do it. The Outlook reminder was my alternative to the checklist, which James approved grudgingly. After that previous spanking, James was planning to remind me himself, after each meal, to fill out the food journal, but he failed miserably at this.

"I need to be stricter and more consistent and check your journal more often so every time you forget it doesn't end up being a big spanking because you've forgotten for a week or more." But he says this while he's going into the closet for his belt. So I'm nervous already. "Bend over the bed." He ordered, after which he peeled off my pants and panties and had me step out of them. He positioned me once on the corner of the bed, so that my legs would be apart, but when he asked, I admitted that my leg was feeling a little awkwardly placed, and so he put me back so I was bending over the long side of the bed with my legs on the ground (but still apart).

"How many days did you fail to write in your journal?" he asked, opening the book.

"I started writing again here," I admitted, pointing at the book page.

"How many days?"

"Seven." I said, glancing at it.

"Seven days times three meals a day, then. So that's 21 strokes." He figured. "It's not going to be as bad as spankings I've given you before, because I haven't been doing my job, but it's going to get my point across."

Then the first stroke fell. SMACK! Mind you; the belt sounds just as scary as it feels. But for some reason, you hear the sound before you feel the pain. I don't understand the science of this.

But overall, James is becoming better at wielding the belt without bruising me. He has better control now, and he doesn't hit with it as hard as he used to. Yet as soon as the belt hit the thighs…

Shudder. The belt, when connecting to the thighs, leaves an instant welt. There's no "standing in place" to receive it. You FEEL it, and you RESPOND. Poor James always has to put an arm around my waist just to keep me in place. I certainly can't do it on my own. And it's harder in this position for James to keep me from putting my hands back there. Not to mention how easy it is just to stand up.

But it ended, and none-too-soon. The side of my ass was annoying me by hurting more than anywhere else. You can really tell, when being belted, how much the chub on your butt is protecting you from bruising, and as soon as there's no fat somewhere… bruise, bruise, bruise! Luckily, everything's gone now, and not many even lasted to the next day.

At the end of the spanking, as usual, James held me and comforted me. I wasn't crying this time—just a bit rattled. I felt worse for James—he repeated his earlier lecture and told me that he wanted me to write out a "daily check list" and apologized consistently for "letting me down" and "not doing his job". It's wonderful to know that James takes my goals so seriously.

Afterwards, I made out a simple checklist and attached it to the fridge—just a "did you write down breakfast/lunch/dinner/night yogurt/other/exercise?" for the days of the week. I attached it to the fridge since I tend to open it by habit upon entering the kitchen—even if I want something that's not a fridge-item. Like a pair of scissors. Hopefully I can keep with it. If not—you'll be seeing a lot of spankings from here on out!

Spring Break and the Curiosity of Spanking Parties

2009-04-12T17:17:00.001-07:00

Hi Bloggers,

Sorry I haven't written in awhile—for some reason, Spring has always been my busiest time of year. Mostly because it's the only time you can actually get out and do things in Austin. Like painting the house and doing yard work, home construction projects, and all the other things that make me sick.

I've been in Albuquerque as well—as my husband could easily get a job there with the sort of research he does. Let me tell you all—that was an emotional rollercoaster for us. The first couple of days we were there, he went to meetings that he didn't enjoy, and we decided to drive around in the crappiest part of town. We also don't like Adobe or Pueblo-style houses. At first, we thought it was ugly. By the way—Sante Fe is REALLY ugly if you don't like Pueblo-style houses. Don't even go there if that's the case. It's like the whole city was built on a theme. To me, it looked like an Afghan refugee camp. Yet, everyone I've ever known that's gone there thinks it's "gorgeous".

But, by the end of the trip, we decided we liked Albuquerque. We found some normal houses, areas that we wouldn't mind living, we bought a condo as an investment, too—that was an odd turn—but we had an enjoyable time.

SO…. ANYTHING ABOUT SPANKINGS, KOREY? OR ALL YOU GOING TO JIBBER-JABBER ABOUT YOUR PERSONAL LIFE?

I never know how much of my real-life I'm supposed to put in this blog. So work with me while I find the balance. My husband thinks that you guys might actually give a hoot about my real life, but I tend to think you just like the stuff about spankings. So we'll do some tests and see, shall we?

THE SPANKING CONVENTION

I would love to hear about the spanking party that was held in Dallas on the 30^th-31^st. I wanted to go. I was even in Dallas at the time (for my sister-in-law's B-day party)—but because of my reason for being there, I had to miss it. ABCD Webmasters, the company I work for, had a table there in the vendor's fair, with catalogs and videos and everything else. I would have loved to run the vendor's fair. Hopefully next year Bethany will ask me to do it.

My real question is what the hell happens at spanking parties? I would love someone to do a write-up commentary about one. I'm full of questions and curiosity about such events. I would love to go, too—my only rule is…

KOREY'S RULE #1: KOREY WILL EVER ONLY BE SPANKED BY HER HUSBAND.

Not that the other thought isn't fun and kinky—I write stories where people other than the heroine get spanked. But I feel that James and I have an intimacy through spankings that I would par near sex. I wouldn't have sex with anyone else, so I wouldn't want to be spanked by anyone else. Now, my knowledge about parties concerns me since I don't know if I'm supposed to be pulled unexpectantly over someone's knee. I don't know. Next year, I'll be giving a full report.

Either way, the vendor's fair sounds absolutely awesome. I'm a spanking salesman at heart.

ANY SPANKINGS DURING YOUR THOUGHTLESS HIATUS?

Oh, God. Do I! I'm writing it up right now. It's going to be long, and will be posted in the next couple of days! Stay tuned!

The Matchmaking Conundrum

2009-03-18T12:07:00.001-07:00

Here's a fantasy that James and I share: to have some real life friends somewhere around our age that also believe in DD/CDD. Just to go camping with, go on picnics, go to the movies, bowling, dinner parties—the kind of things we do with our non-spanking friends! But it's hard for us to find any in the area. And let's face it, if they invent teleporting tomorrow and we were suddenly able to teleport from Austin to Timbuktu in a heartbeat—it would STILL be a problem.

And here's why: they're hard to find. Couples that practice DD are really hard to find and what's HARDER to find is a DD relationship if you're a single person, so if we do have a friend who's into DD, double-dating is still off because it's so hard to get that person together with someone who's not old, bald, and creepy.

And I know why! Because many women of my generation—women in their late teens, twenties, and early thirties, were raised in a culture completely dominated by radical feminism. And some of us rebelled—at least subconsciously. We fought "the Man", except this time "the Man" wasn't a patriarchal head of household figure or an old white guy. Instead "the Man" was Gloria Steinem and Molly Ivins and the National Organization for Women. Some of us want to be housewives, and stay home when we have young children. And many who do have careers outside the home still want to feel taken care of and watched over when they are at home.

Men of my generation, on the other hand, grew up thinking that women are equal in every single way, or hell—better than them. And if you hit one, you're toast (which is a good thing). However, they have also had it pounded into their heads that spanking = hitting, and thus they are not willing to spank when it is called for. Also, so many men (and women, of course, but let's look at men) don't feel that they should lead by example—they don't have to anymore. Their wives are going to take care of them and their lives and they can sit watching football all day long, drinking beer, and being lazy. In essence, they can be Homer Simpson, and get away with it. That is what society expects of them, and they are more than willing to fulfill those lousy expectations.

This is not their fault alone—today's society created these people. For centuries, men have been expected to provide for and protect their families, to treat women with chivalry, to work hard and try to do what is right, and to teach their sons to do the same. Not all men lived up to these expectations, of course, but those who did were treated with respect by their wives and by society at large. Now, in the last fifty years, society has told men that they don't need to be the head of their household! Those men who try to act as head of household (with or without any form of discipline to enforce their decisions) are portrayed in popular culture as chauvinistic, insecure, violent, and sexually repressed, among other things. In fact, men are often treated as if they're not needed in society at all. Women will do everything. Just put your sperm in the jar before you leave the planet so there can be future generations. When men are raised with those sorts of values, and they can behave that way and still get sex (often without even needing to get married), it is easy to understand why so many men just go with the flow, and sink to the level society expects of them.

Meanwhile, many men of the baby boomer generation have seen the problems that feminists have created (with the willing collaboration of lazy men). They see the high divorce rate, broken families, disrespectful children, and a generally cruder culture. Many of them just want a return to more traditional gender roles in society. Others of them are divorced and think that DD could have helped their previous marriage. Some, unfortunately, have become embittered by women and want revenge of some sort.

A significant number of these men are now looking for relationships where they are the unquestioned head of the household. In some cases they are now looking for a DD relationship, or a relationship that includes spanking or some other form of discipline. Sadly, though, these guys a lot of times have no idea what they are doing, or they are dramatically disillusioned.

Due to the anti-feminist rebellion of many in the younger generation of women and the large number of aging, divorced baby-boomer men, there is a HUGE age gap between women and men who are looking for DD relationships.

I'm not talking about EVERYONE, obviously. I'm just making generalizations from what I witness on various blogs, forums, and personal sites.

However, my heart really, truly goes out to the poor young women—of marrying age, particularly, who want to settle down with a man who can provide for them, care for them, and discipline them when they need it. There seem to be few of them to be found where the women are looking, and probably it's just such a small population anyway and they're hard to bring out into the light. Society does not look kindly on a man who openly admits that he spanks his wife when necessary. Some of these men (and women, of course) don't even know that there are other people like them.

Women tend to think more on the issue—they want discipline. They read stories about it and have really made it a huge fantasy that many feel they can't be happy without. Their soul yearns for it.

I've said it before: I want to help people get together. I want everyone to experience the personal fulfillment and joy I feel on a daily basis. And so I've resolved to find the best ways to match up folks. And yes—I feel everyone should be matched up. Personally, I don't favor the "free sex" lifestyle of modern day America, where women are expected to drop their pants and destroy their modesty on the first date. It's not all about sex.

ABCD webmasters (the group behind Bethany's Woodshed and Romanic Spankings, among others) is coming out with a social network, where everybody who likes spanking can come together and sing camp songs or whatever, and I'm administrator of that site, but we're not going to go to personals right out of the shoot.

Right now, it's Spanking Internet. That is the site on which I met James, and so I am eternally grateful. HOWEVER—there are a LOT of creeps on there. They're unchecked, and they're sometimes very spooky, and they often overshadow the normal guys, so beware! When I met James, there wasn't a way, unless you were a paid member, to search only within a given age range, but fortunately now there is, which makes it easier. It is also free to use the personals section.

So take heart, you lonely DDers! Things will look better by this summer, thanks to technology, and it is my pleasure to try to help you, advise you, and do everything I can. Read the first few posts I've made on this blog if you've never been in a DD relationship before, or if you're just starting to look. There's good stuff there.

If you need any advice, though—my husband and I are also here for you. My email's koreymae@gmail.com or Korey.johnson@hotmail.com, I check both. Don't hesitate to drop me a line. And always make read receipts with me to make sure your email's going through. You'd be AMAZED how many problems I have with that!

Three Spankings in One Day

2009-03-14T16:27:00.001-07:00

What are you talking about, Korey? You've been so good, lately! How can you earn THREE spankings in 24 hours?!

Actually… I haven't been that good this month. I've gotten a spanking here and there, I just didn't write a blog about it. Trust me, if I wrote about EVERY spanking I ever got, I'd begin to sound tedious. Though, I must admit, I don't think I've yet earned 3 decent spankings in one day before.

The second spanking of the trio was the main event, but I know ya'll like a good lead-up.

The first spanking happened on Thursday evening, because I was cleaning and threw away a crazy blue thing I found on the counter. In my defense, it looked like an air sealer; a piece of trash—the thing you rip off of the kitty litter tub so that you can open it. It's long and has a hole in one end. Only this one was small and blue. I SUPPOSE it was something important from one of James' professor's classes that he was teaching as a stand-in professor, that James was messing with and broke in half accidently. In fact, he wasn't the first to do this. Another student was messing with it and broke it in half, but James re-broke it, and was re-gluing it back together. Which is why it was on the counter.

James is a pretty decent human being, you're thinking. How can he spank you for throwing out something that you had every reason to think was a piece of trash?

Because I suppose he was talking to me about all this just five minutes before I got up and started to clean; I just wasn't paying attention. I was probably trying to pay attention, mind you, only I was reading my computer screen, and although sometimes I convince myself otherwise, I can't read and listen at the same time.

Anyway, it didn't look good when he walked by and saw the blue thing in the trash. He was confused, and wondered if he threw it away accidentally, or if it had gotten knocked off the counter unintentionally. He asked if I put it in the trash, and I said, "Yeah. That blue thing? It's in the trash." Because, again, I was not listening to the story, AND he doesn't like me throwing away stuff when I don't even know what it is.

He called me into the kitchen, and told me to take off my pants. As I was arguing that is LOOKED like garbage, he tugged down my jeans and panties in a swoop and bent me over the counter. Then, to add insult to injury, he took off MY belt (which I guess makes sense, because James doesn't wear pants too large for him so he doesn't wear belts very often), and started to spank me with it.

I don't really like belts, and I'll tell you why: they're really hard to aim. And you can feel the aiming struggle on your tush. So, since James was standing on my left side, the worst of each spank was mostly on the far right side of my right cheek. It was only 10 strokes, but still—there were nine strokes in one area. Until the 10^th stroke.

OH, GOD. THE 10^th STROKE. That landed on the inside of my left thigh, somehow. There's still a welt, nearly 48 hours after the event.
TIP OF THE DAY: Try your best to get your husband/spanker to NOT spank the inner thigh area. The thigh area is what stories refer to as "Delicate Flesh". And I don't think spanking bruises are very sexy. Refer to the picture below:

See? Bruises aren't incredibly hot. To me. Some people like them. Some people like going on those Russian Woodshed sites, too. But I think they're scary.

The Third Spanking of the Day

Come on, Korey. Where'd this 2^nd spanking go?

I'm saving it until the end for dramatic effect.

So; my workout ball, for some reason, pries the paint away from the wall where I put it every day. I don't know why it does this. Weird latex on the ball/weak wall paint, who knows? I keep putting it on the same spot because I figure I'm going to have to repaint that spot, anyway. UNFORTUNATELY, James didn't quite agree with my way of thinking. He happened to move my ball away from its normal spot just last night, and he was shocked when he saw the paint peeling away from the ball. He was noticing this for the first time, since he never uses the ball. He informed me about it, expecting me to be equally surprised.

I was not surprised by the news. I'd noticed two months ago that it was doing that. Of course, my lack of a surprised expression let loose the fact that I knew about it and was allowing it to continue, without mentioning it to James or doing anything to remedy the problem. So, my pants were back down for the second time in one evening. Luckily, he just used his hand, but my bottom was already totally swollen from spanking number two. However, after spanking number two, the last thing I expected was to be back across his knee only hours after the event.

*Cough Cough*. Spanking Two?

Alright, alright. So, I'm just sitting on my computer when I get a Skype message. James and I met over the internet, and we still really enjoy IMing each other during work. So, you get to read a conversation between us, that he began as soon as I got off the phone with a friend. As you may know, James is helping me get to my goal weight by making sure I exercise every day and making me keep a food journal. But… I haven't been keeping it for a while, especially since I took ill. But, now that I'm mostly healed, I get this message:

James: I have to go to another meeting at 3:00, but we need to discuss something first. Let me have your full attention for a few minutes.

Korey: Sure.

James: Go and get your food journal off the counter.

Korey: Okay.

Korey: Why?

James: When was the last time you wrote anything in it?

Korey: When my neck went out.

Korey: Thursday.

James: I looked this morning, and the last day you had anything written down was March 2nd.

James: Is that correct?

Korey: Let me check.

Korey: You're right. The 2nd. But I got that cough and stuff... After which, I probably dropped doing it.

James: March 2nd was the Monday before this one. You were still up and around without any major problem at least until that Wednesday, because we went to watch a movie over at Chris and Miranda's place.

Korey: I don't remember. I'm sorry; I don't know why I stopped doing it. I was just assuming it was the cough, since normally I was good for a long time of writing in it when I was healthy.

James: But moreover, while I completely understand that you couldn't work out while your neck was having problems, there is no reason you shouldn't have still been keeping your food journal. You were still eating during that time. I would have been more than willing to help, bring it to you, whatever you wanted. But even with that in mind, I still wouldn't have had a big problem if you had forgotten it on a couple of the days where you were doing really badly. But there is no excuse at all for you just not doing it for 10 days.

James: I didn't check until now, because I assumed you were still doing it, since you even mentioned it in your blog entry.

Korey: You're right; I haven't been doing it. I'm sorry, honey.

James: I am not angry at you, sweetie. I love you very much, but I'm going to make sure you remember from now on. Forgetting one day, especially when you are sick, is not a big issue. Forgetting for 10 days is an issue, especially since we talked so much, so many times, about how we were going to try some things differently for a month. Of course the working out part isn't your fault, but the food journal is your responsibility. I know you didn't disobey me on purpose, but that isn't the point. We have had this same discussion at least three or four times now, about other things, including your prior food journal on the Livestrong website and eating your yogurt.

Korey: You're right. I'm sorry.

James: You need to take whatever action you need to take in order to remember each day. If that means you set a daily alarm for a certain time to remind you, that is fine. Other people do that, it is very easy with a cell phone. Or you can use a calender with check boxes, or whatever else you want. But it is something you need to take responsibility for.

Korey: I'll figure out a way to remember it.

James: I'm discussing this with you on Skype rather than in person for three reasons. One, as you've said before, I'm stricter on Skype, and I need to be strict about this. Two, it lets me write out what I want to say, and think about it for a second, before sending it to you.

James: The third reason is that in the past, when I've spanked you, I've always told you about it right before it happened, even if I'd been planning to spank you for a few hours or more. I do this because I don't want you to spend the whole day thinking about it.

Korey: Honey, just give me another chance one more time. I'll do the food journal.

James: However, it might be useful for you to have a couple of hours to think about why you are being spanked, so you aren't still in the process of trying to argue your way out of it when it actually happens.

James: There is no point in arguing with me about this sweetie. I only asked you about it because I wanted to make sure you hadn't started using some other journal, or writing it in a Word document, or something like that.

Korey: I really think that if you give me another chance, you won't have to spank me. I'll do just as good without one.

James: I didn't tell you this morning because I didn't want you to have to worry about it all day.

James: Sweetie, you are going to get a spanking, this issue of you forgetting to do things we both agree you need to do has gone on too long.

James: I'm telling you now because I want you to be able to have a little time to think about why you are going to be spanked.

James: I will be home around 5:00. We'll take care of your spanking then, so it won't get in the way of us enjoying the rest of the evening.

Korey: Please, honey. I'll do better. What do you want me to say?

James: There is nothing I expect you to say, sweetie. I decided on the way to work this morning that I was going to spank you.

James: I do want you to do two things, however.

Korey: What?

James: The first is, you will come up with a plan for how this will not happen in the future. That could be a cell phone alarm, calendar, whatever it is that you want. But I want you to know what it will be, and I want you to write your plan down on a piece of paper.

Korey: I'll make an alarm on my outlook calendar. I don't have to write it down--I'm writing it right now.

James: Second, you will be ready for your spanking when I get home. This is part of your punishment. I'll text message you when I'm about 5 minutes away, so you have time to get ready.

James: Sweetie, I don't think you are understanding that I'm quite serious about this. You need to stop arguing, or this will be a much longer spanking than it is already going to be.

James: You will write it down, on a piece of paper, which will be on the bed when I get home.

James: Next to the paper will be the paddle (which is currently in your sock drawer), and one of my belts from the closet.

James: You will be in only your panties, in the corner of the room.

James: I'm going to try to be a little more formal about this, so that you get the message this time.

James: This will be at least the fourth spanking I've given you for something like this, and each time previously you've told me you would make sure to remember from now on. This time I'm going to make sure you take me seriously.

Korey: Honey, isn't the paddle a little too harsh? I have a very low pain tolerance.

James: Sweetie, you know I love you very much, and I am not going to leave you black and blue or anything like that. However, you need to understand that I'm not going to want argument about this.

Korey: Alright, honey.

Korey: What about dinner? I'm normally in the middle of it when you get home.

James: We'll worry about that after your spanking. You'll have to decide whether you still want to go to the movie. I'll still be glad to take you. You can also decide if you want to make dinner, or we can go out and get something, or we can have sandwiches and stuff.

James: I have to go to the meeting. I love you very much. I will be home between 4:30 and 5:00. I'll text message you when I'm about 5 or 10 minutes away, so make sure your phone is on.

So, needless to say, my internet begging didn't work. I only have two weapons to use against a spanking. One of my weapons, James said, is acting sad, and the second is acting like James is being unreasonable and/or mean by spanking me over what I consider to be little stuff. In person, I'm quite good at wielding both of these weapons, and both of them together are a powerful combination, which is why I don't get spanked nearly as often as I otherwise might. So, James was trying "Skype Sentencing" to carry out a pre-spanking lecture without getting taken down by my weapons. It is much harder for my sad face and my "Aren't you being mean James?" tone to work in a text based format.

Long before James got home, I cleaned the house (thinking that a dirty one will make my punishment worse), and laid out one of his belts (the thinnest one) and the… paddle (Grumble. And if you want to know WHY I'm grumbling, read my post about the new paddle.) and I write down what my plan is for remembering the food journal on a piece of paper and lay out everything on the bed.

It's actually quite good that I had all that laid out beforehand, because I never got James' text message—sometimes those things don't get through, even though he showed me later on his phone that he sent one. When I heard him pull up in the driveway, I quickly rushed into the bedroom and took off all my clothes and stood in the corner in just my panties. It's cold outside—about 60 degrees, and I was shivering next to the window in the corner I chose to stand in.

James came in and thanked me for doing everything I was supposed to, and called me out of the corner to stand in front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He asked me if I understood why I was being spanked, and I told him I did. I didn't argue like I normally do—that would only make it worse, and I was hoping that he would keep my panties on for my good behavior. And when he pulled me over his knee, I thought I'd be so lucky. But after he spanked me a few times with his hand, he ended up pulling down my panties nonetheless.

Right after, of course, the spanking felt a whole lot worse. Although panties are thin, they seem to do a lot as far as the sting of each blow is concerned.

I've mentioned this before, but I don't take a spanking gracefully. I cry, I try to struggle, I kick; he always has to grab my wrists to keep me from trying to cover myself and has to position one of his legs over mine so I don't kick too much or try to wriggle onto my side.

Soon, though, the first portion of my spanking is over and he sends me back into the corner. He leaves the room to get a drink—he just wants me to think about what's about to happen, why I'm in this position—in the corner, naked, with an already red bottom.

When he comes back into the room, he tells me to lie on the bed on my back.

This is not a good sign. I have the strongest feeling that he's not going to have sex with me, since we never have sex during or right after a discipline spanking. So, laying on my back will only be unpleasant.

I knew what he was thinking, too. He planned to belt me while holding my legs up in the air, making sure that he won't belt me too high on my butt. However—when your legs are up in the air, your skin on your butt tightens, and you feel like any cushion your chub might give you is gone—because it is. This position makes your ass as tight as any super model. There's only muscle.

So I started freaking out, even before he started, and James, I'm sure, felt bad. I mean, I was hyperventilating. He gave me a few stripes with the belt, and then he stopped for a bit to comfort me and calm me down before he continued. He kissed my forehead and said something like "Sweetie, I know this stings a lot, and it is going to sting a lot more, but remember it is just a spanking. Everything is going to be ok, I just want to make sure this is the last time I have to spank you for this." I calmed down a little, and he eventually continued, and there were about 20 stripes in all. And then I was back in the corner. By now, I was shivering, crying, and not in a good state. Mostly because I knew it wasn't over yet. Just thinking about that paddle made me shake uncontrollably and start to sob.

The paddle was a little different this time. It's thinner than it was earlier—probably even by a forth of an inch—and lighter. James sanded it down because it was so heavy.

I was in quite a state by the time he pulled me back over his knee. He smacked me once—and the sharp pain immediately brought a stream of tears to my eyes. I didn't try to run away; I just turned and gripped my arms around James and begged. But he had already quite made up his mind about giving me at least three swats. And three swats I got—the effect of them stayed much longer than invited; past the next spanking that day and well into the night. James took me to dinner and the movies afterwards, but my bottom just tingled with a numbing pain all the while.

Needless to say; I'm getting back into the food journal. This ended up being such a debacle; I'd prefer never to repeat it. And I suggest no one ever do anything that brings "paddling" into your husband's mind. If James hadn't already spanked me about stuff like this three times already it wouldn't have been quite as bad, and it wasn't as bad as it will be next time, if there has to be a next time for this issue, or so James has threatened.

Such is a day in the life of a spanked wife.

But the other wives need it more!

2009-03-11T14:17:00.001-07:00

Hello, Folks!

Sorry I haven't posted since V-Day. I was finishing up my second story for Bethany's sites and then I got sick, and then my neck went out. Sigh. I'm 24 but I have the spine of a 55 year old. But I didn't consider how hard it is to be on the computer with a stiff neck. Nigh impossible.

But I digress. I've mentioned other peoples' wives in an earlier post but I must mention how horrible it is when you're in a DD relationship and then you witness another couple who needs to be. Of course, whether they need it or not makes no difference—James and I can't talk about our relationship, anyway. Let's face it, if you say "spanking", they HEAR "beating/spousal abuse", and then, before you know it, they'll be looking down on YOU, saying how YOU should be more like THEM.

And that would make you and us sick. So, mentioning spanking as an option, again, is NOT an option.

Let's proceed with my tale.

So, in case none of you realized: I'm somewhat of a hermit. I tend to be a wee bit agoraphobic, so I really don't enjoy being around large groups of people. I tend to have a few close friends, rather than lots of casual friends/acquaintences. James is very sweet and forces me to go with him when he and his friends decide to put all the wives on a play-date in hopes that we'll all be friends.

Here's the problem with that—four wives, one of them with a 1 ½ year old, one of them pregnant, one of them not really a wife, just a live-in girlfriend, and me. I think we all recognize that once you start having children, you have trouble getting along with wives that don't, simply because you have a whole other set of problems you can't talk about. It's not that I don't want children one day, it is just that I don't have them yet, and so I can't identify with the daily trials and tribulations associated with them.

But I interact with these people and listen to them yak on about diapers and little shoes on a pretty common basis. In the meantime, I mentally compare their marriages to my own.

THE STORY OF CHRIS & MIRANDA

If ever there was a couple that should use DD, it would be Chris, my husband's best friend, and his wife, Miranda. The weird thing about them is they don't use DD but they are familiar with the HOH idea—by Miranda's own desire, Chris is Head of Household, at least in theory. He makes the final decisions, does the budgeting, etc. (again in theory). What Chris doesn't understand is…

Just because she calls you the HOH doesn't mean you ARE the HOH.

If Chris WAS the HOH, Miranda wouldn't have done these things:

Nagged Chris into having a baby before he finished Grad school, and then started complaining constantly because he hasn't finished his Ph.D. on time because he has to work from home and watch the baby the majority of the week. She also whines that they're poor, because of the baby, and because he's still working on the Ph.D. instead of getting a real job.

Forced them to spend $15,000 on one car instead of getting a good car for her and the baby for $10,000 and getting an old car for Chris for $5000 so he wouldn't have to ride his bike several miles to the bus stop, hold up the bus to put the bike on the rack on the front of the bus, endure the angry looks of the people who he just delayed, ride the bus to campus, then walk from the bus stop to his building, in addition to having to get picked up and dropped off by his friends anytime he goes anywhere with them. She even complains about getting stuck at home when he needs the car. Again, getting ONE $15,000 vehicle was her idea, and she actually managed to guilt him into doing it by claiming that a cheaper car wouldn't be "safe for the baby".

Complain about them never having any money yet go shopping regularly, never shopping at discount stores (she will actually wait outside Ross when I beg to shop there, because she and Sarah (the pregnant one) won't be seen there), or looking for sales (I've watched her pay $100 bucks for a pair of jeans).

Nag Chris about not being in the same shape as he was in when she met him, as she eats a Snickers bar and hasn't dropped any of the baby weight since she had their son more than a year ago, hasn't worked out in 2 ½ years and isn't the one riding a bike to work two to three times a week.

Constantly spend over her "allowance" (budgeted by Chris, at her request) by doing things like buying things for the house on the household budget, returning them for cash, and then spending the cash on her own stuff.

ALWAYS talk back to Chris when he asks her to do ANYTHING.

Yes, there's more. I can keep going all day. But I won't. My point as been made.

And yes, James is flabbergasted at the whole situation himself. And he hates to see Chris so miserable with his problems, but like hell James is going to say anything like, "You know, Chris—you should try spanking! Works for me!"

And he's right. Here's why he's not going to do it, other than the whole mistaking spanking for spousal abuse thingy:

James and I have been married for less than a year and together for only two. We don't have the longevity to start telling people what they can and can't do in their marriage. They figure we're only doing well because of our "honeymoon glow" anyway.

James is younger than Chris by four years. James is 25, Chris is 29. So, we can't do the whole "we're older and wiser" thing.

YET—James and I constantly fantasize about Chris and Miranda converting to DD. We'd pay good money for such an event. And actually, we work even harder on our relationship in case the day actually comes when we flip our common sense on its ass and tell Chris about DD.

For example, James has been helping me lose some extra pounds (at my request) by making me exercise and keep a food journal. He says in his estimation, the best way to get other women to our side is to lose all the weight I want, and then when people ask how I did it, to tell them the truth. Women will try nearly anything to be at their goal weight.

WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! WHY SHOULD CHRIS BE INTERESTED IN DD IN THE FIRST PLACE, MRS. SMARTYPANTS?!

Because Chris wants control (and Miranda at least claims that she also wants him to have control). And he should; he's intelligent, caring, selfless, and has good sense! … Miranda, God Bless her, doesn't have that. Chris's the perfect HOH. Only he has no way to ENFORCE his decisions! Decisions that would be good for the health of his household.

How can you be a HOH when you can't enforce your rules?

You can't, in short. At least, I haven't seen it done, and Chris and Miranda are certainly no example if it. Marriages normally work because of some sort of mutual respect that goes on, but Chris and Miranda don't have it. Miranda doesn't really care about Chris' opinion. Why should she? What's in it for her? She's got it made, as long as she doesn't care about her spouse's happiness.

It's up to Chris to stick up for himself—but how do you even do that without spanking? Without "taking your wife in hand"?

You don't. Not when your wife doesn't really respect you. And I think this is one of the reasons the divorce rate is so high—the man can't take control, and can't get respect from his wife once she realizes he's never actually going to put his foot down. Spanking is out; punishing his wife all together is out, in fact! It would raise a hullaballoo if a man sent his wife to her room, let alone to the woodshed!

I LOVE my Psychology Today magazine subscription. Because you always find something good you can write a spanking blog on. The March-April 2009 issue talked about couples living together and what drove them nuts. Now, in the article, they gave an example about a wife who was supposedly really making her husband's life hell—constantly nagging him. He tried to leave the room, but she followed him from room to room, and even got into his way, blocking the hallway so he couldn't move. So he pushed her aside and locked himself in a room. Then she decided she didn't want to have children with him, because "how can you have a child in such a violent home?"

It gets better—the couple goes to a psychologist, who advised the husband that whenever his wife would do something like that - nag at him or not respect him - he should fondle her. In private, public—wherever they were, he would just have to openly fondle her. Literally just reach up her skirt or shirt and fondle her. I kid you not, this is what the magazine said.

And it worked.

So we're not that crazy, Folks!

Spanking, in my eyes, is better than being randomly fondled, and it achieves the same result—it makes the wife realize how often she's disrespectful, how it makes her husband feel, and puts her back into her place and back into respect for her husband. The only difference between fondling in the manner suggested and spanking in the manner we suggest (which is in private) is the aspect of humiliation which would result from being fondled in public. Spanking also reinforces the fact that the husband is the HOH, while fondling (at least when used as a means of modifying behavior) would seem to indicate that the wife is nothing but a sex object. However, I will congratulate that particular psychologist on at least recognizing that some form of physical punishment is very useful for maintaining a healthy relationship.

Viva psychologists!

Backseat Spankings

2009-02-14T10:23:00.001-08:00

I'm not a fan of backseat spankings, so I'm happy that yesterday was really only my first one. First one for discipline, at least. Fooling-around spankings are good wherever I can get them!

I didn't agree with the spanking—that's right. I don't agree with every one of my husband's rules. Especially when they quell my attempts at side-seat driving.

Although driving is not my husband's strong suit, I hate driving so much that I still have him drive us everywhere. It's not that he can't be great driver when he focuses—he's just too smart to be a good driver most of the time. The inability to focus on mundane tasks is typical in geniuses—and yes, I think my husband's a genius. Albert Einstein, for example, upon visiting the US got into a train station, and lost his wife. After he finally found her, he lost his tickets. Eventually he found those, too, but the man was notorious for getting lost in his own neighborhood. He was a space cadet. And my husband can be one, too.

Simply put, I've saved our lives with my side-seat driving more than once, but occasionally it will drive my husband up the wall. And he starts making threats. Yesterday was, "Korey, if you say one more thing about driving, unless it's life or death, I swear I will pull over, take you into the backseat, pull down your pants, and spank you."

So, I HEARD the threat, but it obviously didn't process, because by the time we were leaving Costco, I felt he was trying to go to the exit line on the right instead of the much shorter one on the left. And I said, "Oh—you want to go to the one on the left. The right gets really backed up."

He gave me a sideways glare and a sigh. "I'm gonna let that go. Last warning."

So, about three minutes later, I said, "We're in a turn-only lane." Of course, he had just realized that himself.

Again, he gave me an annoyed look, but I shrugged. He didn't say anything.

Two second later, I noticed the car to the left of us had its turn signal on. I was sure James didn't see it because he was currently trying to get into the right, lane, too, and the car trying to get in our lane was crowding us. "Be careful of that guy. He's trying to get into this lane," I announced, pointing.

Before I knew it, he pulled into a parking lot. "That's it!" he said.

"James!" I snapped. "We are a block from home. Let's just go home. This is not funny."

"Yeah, well, I didn't promise you a spanking at home. Even though I warned you, I let you off twice!" He found a spot and turned off the car. "Get into the backseat."

I argued angrily for awhile, but eventually I put down the pizza on my lap, and met him in the backseat.

Backseat spankings are pretty uncomfortable, for the following reasons.

It's hard to take down your pants when you're not standing up.
It's hard to get pulled over a knee.
There's no space for your legs.
The spanking, when administered, is too high on the butt.

Not exactly the romantic spanking you might have read about. Still, it was a LONG spanking. If it was actually administered on my sit-spot I might have had problems today. But eventually, it was over, and I was still angry even though James tried to make off-topic conversation during the last block to the house.

I pouted for awhile, and then made fun of James for being a brute. "I still don't agree with the spanking," I claimed a few hours later. He thought about it for a moment, because I normally agree with his spankings after I'd been given one. "I just have to follow through. Normally, I don't mind your moment-to-moment commentary on my driving. Sometimes, though, I do mind, and that was one of the times. However, I suppose you think we were in actual danger, even though I disagree. And because you said something because you thought we were in danger, I apologize." He didn't' look too guilty. "I let you off twice before that," he finally shrugged. But, an apology is an apology.

Still, I'm just glad he chose an isolated enough parking lot that nobody was witnessed to my spanking, or else my ego would be much harder to repair. But it goes to show—no matter where we are, James is obviously going to follow through on his threats—which is a really good HOH tendency, in my opinion.

The New Paddle

2009-02-11T16:00:00.001-08:00

Alright, folks. I thought I've educated you guys up enough. Now—you get to hear about Korey's spankings.

Do you distantly remember that my husband James and I have a DD relationship going? The thing you don't know yet is that the DD is ever-evolving. We've only been together for 2 years, and we're still not steady on how the DD should go. We're just feeling it out.

Which is why in 2 years, last Thursday was the first spanking since I first moved in with James that was bad enough to make me cry.

Alright—rewind. I think you need a little bit of story. A little bit of why my ass was blistered, perhaps?

The story is that my weight fluctuates constantly. Which is really ridiculous because I rarely eat more than 1500 calories a day. You haven't seen such a good calorie counter since Bridget Jones. I have a natural gift for counting calories. But one day I'll be 7 pounds heavier than the day before. It's crazy. I work out every day, yet still… the weight barely trickles off.

Since I'm a "normal" weight and therefore "healthy", James doesn't care about my weight. But I care enough for the both of us. And so he offered to "help" me with the extra motivation to exercise more than 4 times a week and to keep from spoiling my diet with binge-eating, which has always been by downfall. So James tells me, "You know what your problem is? You don't eat lunch. You just have a big ass dinner."

Of course, James isn't a nutritionist, and I have no time for lunch, so I ignore him until he makes it "a rule". But I'm not fazed by this, either. James isn't a strict disciplinarian, by any means. Last Monday, we had a long conversation where he said he was going to get stricter, and that he's been too easy with me. It had to be done, because I tend to get inertia about a lot of things where I don't have the energy to get change in my life happening.

Alright, so—after church on Thursday night, I ask to go to Ryan's (which is a buffet restaurant. It's like the sizzler. I love it) because I'm "starving".

"What did you have to eat today?" he asked casually.

"Well, I had that half-slice of cake and some Lucky Charms," I answer. Which isn't much. Only 250 calories at 7:30pm.

"What did you have for lunch?" he asked.

"Well, I didn't get to the lucky charms until about one, so that's lunch," I shrug simply. I do not yet know that I'm in trouble.

"Young Lady—" he begins to lecture, but he calls me 'young lady' about 7 times a day, so I'm not worried.

"It wasn't too bad," I assured. "They pack a lot of vitamins into Lucky Charms."

"They're LUCKY CHARMS!" he said incredulously. "I thought you promised me that you were going to eat lunch. EVERY DAY."

"I didn't have time. The day went by really fast!"

He just grumbled. "Alright, young lady. I don't want you to make yourself sick at Ryan's."

"I never do!" I said defensively.

"You always do!" he assured. "If you say 'I'm too full', or if I see you put an unreasonable amount on your plate, we're leaving the restaurant, going back to the car, to the back seat, where I'll pull down your panties and spank you. And I don't care if someone sees it," he threatened darkly.

Feeling a bit ruffled, I chuckled, which is my best way of relaxing the intense threat. "I'll be good," I promised.

No—I didn't get spanked in the car. I was good at the restaurant.

Afterwards, we went home. I worked on the computer, and he installed some drywall in our project room. After a couple of hours, about ten o'clock, he comes into the room with a paddle he made with our new table saw. I laughed when I saw it—I didn't think he was going to use it. I just thought he was bored. And I had discussed getting something other than a spoon for when my spankings do happen. I hated the spoon.

"Did you make that just now?" I laughed, taking it from his hands.

"Yeah, well…" he shirked off the conversation. I've supposedly wriggled out of a lot of spankings through joking around and putting him in a good mood. "Korey—now, I didn't want to bring this up until now, because I didn't want you dreading it—but we have to have a talk."

'A talk'. 'A discussion'. I don't think these things mean what he thinks they mean. The dictionary would agree that these things imply a conversation, not his hand slapping my ass in rapid succession. But this is a confusion that HOHs have quite often, I hear.

"About what?" My brain shot right back to my last spanking, which I got from not eating this special sort of yogurt (to help me stomach problems), which I'm supposed to eat every day, but I went without for a whole week. I had been unusually good about eating the yogurt since I finally got spanked for it, so it couldn't be about that. I had obviously, by now, forgotten all about his annoyance about my luncheon habits.

The reason why I had forgotten is probably because he had lectured me about lunch quite a few times—in fact, I lost count of how many times he'd lectured me about eating lunch. I just kept shirking him off. After all, in the 8^th grade I had lost 20 pounds when I had stopped eating lunch, and I was still certain that I could do that again. And I thought James was never going to actually spank me for it, I suppose.

"Korey, remember how we discussed that I was going to be more strict about your dieting? I have made a promise to you to help with it, and that meant you trying my suggestions. You agreed before that you needed to eat more and smaller meals, correct?"

This is the type of lecturing that naturally makes me feel uncomfortable. It sounds like he had been thinking about spanking me for awhile, and has finally decided to do it. It's nigh unheard of to change his mind once he has made his final decision. "Yeah," I agreed sheepishly, though I was still combing my brain for a way out of my spanking.

"Good," he continued, putting down the paddle. "Because I know you're telling the truth—you probably just forgot. And the day can get ahead of you; it gets away from me sometimes!"

"Yeah, and you don't always eat lunch!" I countered.

"I know," he sighed. "And I'm going to do better with that, but I've never complained about my weight." Of course he hasn't. James has a body that might as well be made of steel. "I try to be perfect, but I don't always hit the mark. But that doesn't mean I can't correct you when you've screwed up. And this has become a really common thing for you. You need to know that I'm going to spank you about this thing." He sat on the bed.

I winced. He was already sitting. He was already in "Spanking Korey Position".

"Now, take down your pants," he ordered.

My heart is now beating superfast. Is there truly no way out of the situation? I thought I was FINE not three minutes ago!

"Honey," I begin to argue, stiffening.

"Take off your shirt, too," he said. "You can leave on your bra."

That was new. "James, really!" I said, horrified.

"Okay, bra, too," he said, narrowing his eyebrows, looking annoyed. "Stop arguing and come here and take your pants down."

I wasn't getting it, although I get it now. He told me about it later—he was making me take off my clothes as extra punishment! Luckily, I stopped there, before he got the spoon, heaven forbid! I walked my ass over and unhappily unbuckled my pants and began pulling them down.

Before I crossed his legs, he readjusted himself. All I was thinking about was how cold it was in the room, for some reason, and how naked I felt. I mean, I was called "Naked Korey" in high school because I was a little too comfortable walking around the dressing rooms without a shirt, but suddenly I would kill to have one on.

Finally, he pulled me gently over his lap. James continued to lecture me further on how I have to actually pay attention to his rules, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was too nervous. All I was concerned for was the well-being of my ass. James, although he was only using his hand, was well-remembered as an incredibly hard spanker.

And it began. It was quick but just as horrible as I remembered. I'm a gasper—I cry more by sucking air into my body than by crying out.

I'm not graceful, either. I'm more of a fighter. Not on purpose. I would take a spanking like a swan if I thought that was possible, but it's not. My brain only thinks one thing in this position: how to get OUT of this position.

Before I know it, he pulled me off of his lap and took me to the corner. He left the room for a moment, (a very short moment. He was really only gone a minute or two). When he came back, he had a chair in his hands and stuck it into the middle of the room. "I'm sorry, but we're going to experiment here. I'm trying to find a new position that helps when you're fighting me." He went and took my belt off my jeans, which I had kicked mid-spank onto the floor. He doubled it over in his hands before he deemed it unsuitable. He walked past me and walked into the closet and took out his belt.

"James!" I gasped. I didn't think that I had done anything worthy of a belting offense.

"This is going to be a hard spanking, Korey," he informed me. "I want to nip this in the bud." After which, he sat on the chair and called me over to him.

Hesitantly, I put myself over his lap, putting my hands on the ground so my head didn't scrape across the floor.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked with genuine concern as I wriggled around, looking for a spot where it didn't feel like his knee was jabbing into my gut.

"I think so," I said hoarsely.

"Give me your hand," he told me.

"No, that's okay. I'll keep it on the floor."

"No, Korey. I don't want to hurt you because you're trying to protect yourself," he harangued.

"I can't be comfortable and give you my hand," I informed crossly.

He tried to position me and then sighed sharply. He pulled me from his lap and marched me back over to the bed. Obviously, the chair spanking was not working out. It never really had. We used to have chair spankings in the beginning of our relationship, but they never quite worked out. And this was why: gravity.

But back I was, less red in the face, but over the lap on the bed. He began to belt me nearly without hardly any further ado. I yelped, but he forced me to count them out. There were ten stripes, and all of them stung like the devil. I will say this much for beltings—they don't really bruise. At least, they stung enough for me to be yelling out quite loudly, but I didn't see traces of them at all the next day.

James stood be back up from his lap and put me back into the nearby corner, only feet from us. In the meantime, I suppose he was giving me a rest before he tried out the new paddle.

He grabbed the paddle and I inwardly groaned. My butt was already burning—I didn't think I could take much more. I only thought "it can't be worse than the spoon".

When I was back across the lap, I discovered something.

It can get A LOT worse than the spoon. We're talking instant-tears, folks. He brought down the paddle and I screamed. After I was done with my initial yell of agony, I noticed that the sharp pain I had felt from that first blow was not gone. So I screamed again. By the second scream, I was sobbing already; tears had escaped from my eyes.

A word about crying: I don't do it very often. In fact, in two years, I had only cried from a spanking once—and that's because I had an extra hard, extra long spanking that was merciless which I got from swearing at James in the car. I haven't used the F-word since. Went to 10-20 times a day usage down to the big goose egg. 0. All from one spanking.

As I was suddenly sobbing, I think even James was surprised. I don't know by what—either by how hard the smack was or from my reaction to it. Maybe both. When he had begun, he had promised that he would only paddle me five times. I sobbed and turned to grab his body in a desperate plea for mercy. He dropped it down to "three". I cried harder. He dropped it to two. "Come on, honey. You have to understand that I mean it."

I kept crying "No, no, no!" Until the second swat, which was a WHOLE lot lighter than the first, was given.

Immediately after, he scooped me up and let me cry on his shoulder. He cooed at me and gave me a post-spanking lecture that begged me to just take care of myself and listen to him, because he didn't like giving me discipline spankings. He didn't like seeing me sad, but he was going to spank me again if I needed one.

After I calmed down, we both got ready for sleep. I went into the bathroom and saw that the paddle had already made a round bruise on my ass. All the next day, I had the worst time sitting down. My ass was more swollen than ever. Though, when I complained to him that night that I couldn't sleep on my back, he was somewhat proud of himself. He just laughed and told me to behave myself. "You're just lucky I don't normally spank you so hard."

But still, I think that was the first and last time we'll be using the paddle. James suggested that we go look for a better implement later. He did say he would keep it on reserve incase it was "absolutely necessary". Hopefully, I would have to end up in prison before it becomes "absolutely necessary".

Spankos Vs. Sadomasochism

2009-02-09T18:47:00.001-08:00

I'm glad to finally shed some light on the difference between those of us who consider themselves "Spankos" and those that consider themselves sadists or masochists. The average public will normally refuse to see the line drawn between these. They're confused, and think there's no difference between the types.

Why is everyone so confused about the differences between spankos and sadomasochists?

Well, a lot of spankos and sadomasochists don't know the difference between each other. So don't give the public such a hard time. There are spankos that ARE sadomasochists, and vice-versa. Still, spankos aren't completely absorbed into the sadomasochist group—they are not merely a "subgenre".

What are a sadist and a masochist?

Here's my advice to make this subject less confusing. Never use Wikipedia—it's going to tell you these definitions: Ol' Wiki says: Sadism refers to sexual or non-sexual gratification in the infliction of pain or humiliation upon another person. Masochism refers to sexual or non-sexual gratification from receiving the infliction of pain or humiliation.

I think if you were going to use this passage to define a sadomasochist, then we were all a sadist at one point or the other, that's for sure. I mean, who hasn't wanted your rival to be humiliated? Haven't you ever wanted to punch someone in the face? Wouldn't that make you feel "gratified"?

I'm not saying this is the clinical term—this is just where spankos tend to draw the line: Sadists are people who enjoy watching other people suffer.

Some of them spank—and they tend to be really cruel spankers too. But they do not represent anywhere NEAR the majority of spankos, and certainly not
anyone who practices an appropriate DD relationship. There's an element of control that normally goes on—normally spankers like being in control and spankees like having them in control. But DD folk don't like seeing the other one suffer—their ultimate goal is to make their partner stronger and happier.

Masochists are people that enjoy pain. Normally there's specific types, but where the line is drawn again is people that get sexual gratification—or just plain like—pain and humiliation by itself. It turns them on. I've heard of masochists getting turned on from the pain from their braces. I've also heard of a condition where the pleasure center in most masochists' brain actually becomes extremely active while enduring pain. It's sort of an interesting physical disorder.

By the way, I'm not talking about the self-defacing masochists that simply make their lives a living hell because their psychological state has trouble whenever they feel happy. Yes, they're out there. And there might be a spanko or two in the crowd, but there's always a few weirdos.

Okay—then what gratifies a spanker if not causing pain and what gratifies a spankee if it's not receiving pain?

Not all spankos include all of their reasons, but there are different strokes for different folks that don't include the aspect of suffering, or the physical elation that occurs in some during pain.

SPANKERS enjoy…	SPANKEES enjoy…
Touching bottoms	The feeling of excitement and nervousness pre-spanking
Watching a bare bottom squirm/wiggle	The tingling of swollen skin on the bottom during/after spanking
Watching a bottom turn pink	The attention
Watching a woman blush	The release of bottled-up emotions through crying and pain
Having dominance over their partner	Sexually arousing their partner with their bottoms
Feeling Control of their & their partner's situation	Feeling more in control of their situation by giving control
The level of trust they are given by their partner	The closeness they feel with their disciplinarian

I know I'm missing a 1000+ reasons. Why are YOU a spanko? Write a comment and let us know!

The Psychology of a Spanko

2009-02-08T21:43:00.001-08:00

Last blog, I promised to tear a new one for an article that was published by ABC news last February, called, "Study: Spanking May Lead to Sexual Problems Later". And I will. I want to debunk the whole myth about where Spankos come from and how they come to be.

It's not an exact science. Actually, I would be really surprised if you got the same history of a Spanko twice. We all came to being in such different ways! So, sorry, if you're reading this for what you should and should not do with your children that would keep them from becoming spankos, then you're done with this blog entry. I was into spanking since I can remember, same with my husband. Others I've met started getting into it when they were in their teens, some as adults!

Some spankos were spanked as kids, some weren't. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that most weren't spanked as children. I rarely meet a spanko that was spanked growing up. I certainly wasn't. My husband was a few times.

A thing I must address about this article in particular is this sentence—this is something that grinds my gears:

The analysis of four studies by Murray Straus, co-director of the Family Research Laboratory at the University of New Hampshire-Durham, suggests that children whose parents spanked, slapped, hit or threw objects at them may have a greater chance of physically or verbally coercing a sexual partner, engaging in risky sexual behavior or engaging in masochistic sex, including sexual arousal by spanking. "

Alright—read the paragraph, and read the lettering in blue. Are they serious? Are they seriously lining spanking up with slapping, hitting, and THROWING OBJECTS AT CHILDREN? Yeah, that might screw me up, too, if my parents did that to me. My mother is an occupational therapist in a mental ward, so I know a lot about the histories of a lot of psychological disorders. I know for a fact that most of the people that have these disorders have had trauma in their younger life, including being beaten by their parents.

Of course, I'm not including spanking as "beating". I'm not going to go into whether using corporal punishment on children is wrong or right—but beating? Beating your kid is always wrong. Throwing things at them is always wrong. Slapping anywhere other than the butt is always wrong. The appropriateness of spanking, though, is an actual argument—and I'm not going to argue this here.

All I can say is that people that take part in domestic discipline are always horrified and dismayed by people that go on ahead and throw spanking in the same pool as hitting and throwing things at someone. Physical abuse, in short. Most of the people in the lifestyle are not trying to throw out their anger on someone, or hurt the person they love. DD folks feel what they're doing isn't controlling someone; it's helping that person control themselves.

This is why they say that spanking leads to spankos: because it has something to do with how the child processes the punishment.

"They may internalize that to mean that in loving relationships sometimes there's pain or physical aggression," she says. Another possible lesson is that "whoever is stronger and has more power can overpower the other person and use physical aggression to control the other person's behavior."

Sigh. I think they're getting the desire of spankos mixed up with bullies. Not all spankos are bullies. Bullying is not what gets most of us off, I assure you. A lot of spankos are in it for different reasons. Some like just the site of a naked ass. Some people like the sight of a pink ass. Simplistic, maybe. But honest. Others get off of the humiliation portion of a spanking—the reducing a person to a childlike state through making them feel vulnerable, and then helping them recollect themselves again. Some people are into spanking because they think it's emotionally releasing.

I'm not going to bore you by ranting—I think most of you reading this article have been exasperated by similar assumptions and judgments. But it's really my belief that it's all a misunderstanding. I think these people need to be better informed.

I think most people's problem is they don't know our motivations—our inner selves. They don't know what makes us tick, so they have to assume. And you know what they say when you assume.

A lot of the confusion that makes spankos seem so ludicrous to the vanilla crowed is from people not being able to decipher between masochists and spankos. Well, in my next blog, we're going to be spelling it out. So stay tuned.

Finding a Good HOH

2009-02-06T09:20:00.001-08:00

Why is it so hard to find a HOH? It's certainly not as easy as looking underneath a rock. It's a tricky business, and really, you need luck to pull it off. Especially if you want a guy who's "into spanking", and even harder when you want a guy who respects the DD Lifestyle.

Alright, smarty pants—how did you find a suitable mate?

Well, the short story is that we met on the internet. Although it can be very unsafe if you're not careful, it can also be a "bigger pool" of which to fish from. James, my husband, sent me a random chat. This certain fact helped me as it has helped so many other women: I WAS NOT LOOKING. Not even window shopping. That's always when Mr. Right comes along. Of course, he had qualifications. Enough qualifications, in fact, that I dumped the job in Pennsylvania I was offered and moved down to Austin, Texas to live with him.

Do all HOHs have "qualifications"?

Yes. Keep in mind that I'm one of those believers that think you cannot change a man. This fact slims down your choices considerably, since now you're only looking at men that already have everything you require.

Not all HOHs are rich. Not all HOHs are neat-freaks. Not all HOHs are earth-shatteringly handsome. But this is what they all should have already:

Friends. Not acquaintances, either. Full-fledged friends, and the more loyal they are, the better. The reason you want close friends in a man, is because it lowers the chances that they push people away. In fact, they tend to be people that you like the more you spend time with them. After all, their friends did—his friends love him. You might be able to, too.
A stable work life. I'm not saying the economy can't womp him a new one. The economy's crazy. An HOH, however, is responsible, punctual, intelligent, clear, and consistent. Of course he makes a good employee—his boss loves him, or at least would never want to lose him.
Good Hygiene. Hygiene, such as bathing regularly, wearing clean shirts, etc. means that he's considerate. He's worried about the impression he makes on other people, and he cares what other people think of him. Also, if he's wearing a clean shirt, he knows how to do laundry, and more over—he does it. Meaning that he's not lazy.
Morals. And not the type that change on a daily basis—his type of morals have to be drawn in stone for him to make a really good HOH. He's got to know the difference between right and wrong, and he's got to have the character to abide by his own rules most of the time.
Chivalry & Good Manners. I know; you've heard "chivalry is dead". But let me assure you, it's not. It's still there to show you who would make a good HOH. Chivalry (described, btw, as: the sum of the ideal qualifications of a knight, including courtesy, generosity, valor, and dexterity in arms) in a man shows that he knows that there's a difference between men and women, and that men have to take care of women wherever they can.

He'll show you he's got chivalry on the first date, if he has any. Look at his manners—does he open the door for you? Does he give you his coat when it's cold outside? Does he slow down his walk so you can keep up with him without jogging? Did he keep eye contact? If he did most or all of these things, he's got chivalry. And, better yet, he sounds like a guy who wants a wife more than a buddy he can have sex with. Remember—an HOH will take care of you when you're ill. He's not someone who you may refer to as "the third child" (if you have two children to begin with, that is).

If I see those 5 qualifications, is he into spanking too?

I'm not going to dupe you. He's probably not. You're probably going to have to teach him about what DD is (refer him to my first blog, maybe) and explain why you want it.

I'm not saying he's not going to give you a slap on the tush during sex. And if he won't do even that, the man's just being selfish. Men are normally very easy to coax into such sexual fantasies. And erotic spanking is not that uncommon at all—in fact, it's one of the most popular fetishes in the world. (The top fetish in the world being feet. I know—I too, was surprised. Feet totally gross me out.) So, if you need a spanking sometime in your life, you won't have to look far.

But will he want to give discipline spankings? Maybe. Maybe not. Don't be offended if he doesn't take to the idea easily. A gentlemen would be hesitant to cause pain to their women, particularly when they're unfamiliar to the concept of DD. Men today have been trained so rigorously not to hit women that they aren't going to recognize the difference between hitting your face and slapping your butt. They're simply going to think both are completely out-of-bounds.

So, don't think you can coax a non-spanko into giving you disciplinary spankings on the first date, or even the first year of your relationship. You've got to open a very open line of communication and trust. Then, and only then, can you make him come around to the idea.

What about getting guys off spanking websites?

If you're destined to follow in my footsteps, and don't want to play games, here's my advice to you.

Find out his fetishes. Is it just spanking, or will you have to dress up like a fluffy white rabbit before he'll have sex with you? "That's preposterous!" you may say. But it's not. If you choose Alt.com or something similar, be very leery & honest about what you can deal with for the rest of your life.
Be safe. If you decide to meet him, meet in a public place. You have to feel safe, and he should WANT you to feel safe.
Talk about things other than spanking. If you'd like, I'd talk about children, religion, movies, politics, ethics; everything. You want to know everything about this person before you meet him. Don't waste your time with someone who's obviously not your type. It's not worth getting a guy who likes spankings but who you have nothing else in common with.
Don't feel pushed into sex or spanking until you are ready. I didn't have sex with James until 8 months after I met him, and we had been living together for four months. (He didn't believe in sex until marriage, but I wanted to "try it out" before marriage. We compromised and waited until right before we got engaged. Now, I wished we waited until we were married.) Remember, there's no turning back the clock once the deed has been done. And when it comes to spanking; he should be much more concerned about who you are as a person before he takes you over his knee.
What kind of spanker is he, anyway? Yes, it's important! Do you want a guy who's a sadist, or a responsible citizen who enjoys the comfort and consistency of a DD marriage? Or do you just want a guy who enjoys spanking as much as you do? Make the choice, and seek it out.
Don't overestimate how much you like spanking. Not only do you not want to throw away a good man just because he's not into spanking—unless you decide that that is very, very important to you—if you've never been spanked before, you have to realize that you might not like spanking as much as you think you do! Spanking can hurt. Don't get a guy who only uses switches if you've never been switched, for example. You might be opening Pandora's Box where you'll find yourself in a spanking relationship that is way over your level of tolerance. If he's a keeper, he'll understand that and adjust to your level.

I can't tell you precisely where these websites are—but they're out there, and ABCD webmasters is cooking up something special in the near future that might help. Stay tuned for it.

What's your #1 BEST advice for finding a good HOH?

DON'T BE TOO PICKY. Don't think "soul mate" on this one. Soul mate's don't exist—think partner. If you have a man "check list" that has 100 items on it, I'd start pairing it down. Your husband probably doesn't need to know 400 languages and know how to play the piano/guitar/violin. He didn't need to win the Nobel Peace Prize. He doesn't need to be a millionaire. He doesn't need to have blond hair, blue eyes, be 6'5'' and have Hugh Jackman's body. Let's start being realistic.

You know the spanking stories on Romantic Spankings? They're awesome, I know, but 99% of those never actually happened. Men aren't perfect, you're not perfect, and relationships aren't perfect. Welcome to the real world.

Hope that advice helped someone!

Alright, stay tuned for tomorrow's post. I'm itching to tear this new study I just read a new butthole…

DD for Dummies & the “Water Cooler”

2009-02-05T11:45:00.001-08:00

I like you, the readers, already. I like you because you're curious, you're interested, and you're probably open-minded folk.

You're either saying "DD for Dummies—that's great, since I don't know what DD is!" or you're saying, "Yawn, but I understand you have to explain yourself before you explain the lifestyle you're in." Well, yawners—don't click off just yet!

Before I get into the "Dummies", I don't want you guys to think I'm all DD and no play. I like to think of this site as a sort of "water cooler" about spanking. Which is why I called this site "Spank Notes", not "Korey's Guide to DD". I mention the "water cooler" analogy because I think we can all understand that it's the place at work, or anywhere, that you linger around when you should be doing other things, waiting for some sort of social encounter, gossip, or information.

Alright, those of you that don't know what DD is but somehow wandered unbeknownst onto this blog: DD is Domestic Discipline. It's a cute term people that practice DD like to call a particular lifestyle where a nuclear couple—husband and wife—have put their heads together and designated one of them to have a sort of power over the other. I rarely hear of the wife becoming the HOH—which is the "Head of Household" aka the winner of the power-vote—but I suppose it can happen--especially in this modern world, whether or not that's a good thing.

The normal DD lifestyle consists of the husband being HOH, and therefore he has the final say. "What," you may ask, "Does he have 'final say' over?" The following list is short, because it names just a few:

Final Say over…

Household rules
    (Including swearing, wearing shoes in the house, informing the other partner when adopting a dangerous pet, etc.)
Household chores
    (Including who changes the kitty litter and how often, who does dishes and how often, who takes in the cat to get vaccinated, etc.)
Household Moves
    (Including moving to Denmark, Antarctica, Mosquito Coast, wherever.)
Couple's interactions with others
    (Including going on shopping trips with your shopaholic friend, letting a friend talk you into buying a boat, lending large sums of money to a friend, etc.)
Finances
    (Including major purchases, credit card bills, determining the payer of the bills, determining how much money needs to be donated and to what charities, etc.)

It's not that the HOH makes all the rules. Normally a couple can get together and agree on most of them. "Final Say" is just what happens when there's a 1-to-1 vote, when both arguments have been deliberated, but a decision must be made.

The HOH normally doesn't get to use the "final say" card as much as you may fear. In fact, a good HOH won't always choose what he wants—he'll always try to choose what's best for his wife and his family. In fact, when either choice is acceptable, it's optimal for the HOH to do what his wife would prefer most of the time. Being HOH isn't just about getting what you want, after all.

The HOH, however, enforces the rules. And when he enforces them with discipline of any sort, we call it "Domestic Discipline". Domestic Discipline has a few different facets. The only thing we don't support on this blog is ALDD (see below).

Domestic Discipline (DD)
Domestic Discipline is performed by couples that use this lifestyle in hopes of becoming better couples and community members. The HOH chastises his partner to make her a better person by keeping her in line when she messes up. He, in return, tries harder than most to be a good person so that he sets a good example for his wife. Love, of course, is the primary reason behind the DD—love of the partner here implies that you are willing to go out of your way to help your partner become a better, stronger person and community member. To reiterate, the husband does not always force his wife to do what he wants, he only chastises her when her behavior is hurting herself, her community, or her family.
Christian Domestic Discipline. (CDD)
A Christian Domestic Discipline relationship is a DD relationship. The difference here is that both partners are Christian. And thus, the morals that they strive to live by are those set by Christ's example. This doesn't mean that the husband is perfect or expects perfection of his wife; it's just what they strive for.
Advanced Loving Domestic Discipline. (ALDD)
We don't talk about this one around this water cooler. "Why?" you may ask. "It's loving discipline, it's just advanced!" That should be the case, but this term was made by Mr. LovingDiscipline who is obviously a sick, sick, lonely man. It has nothing to do with love, or traditional domestic discipline. He uses the term 'DD' extremely loosely, as well as the term 'loving'. He uses the word "advanced" to reference techniques that would make Marquis De Sade blush. For more information, click this link. It will take you to a very honest book review on what he's written. ALDD is a deceptive term that REALLY means "Harsh BDSM". If that's your thing, and that's your partner's thing, have at it! But it sounds horrible to anyone who really takes part in DD or CDD.

A word about SPANKING.

Although you don't have to necessarily use spanking in a DD relationship, normally you'll find lots of spanking interest if you go into any DD sources. The two topics are very common bed-fellows, and it's no different here. I've been "into" spanking my entire life.

We'll be talking about spanking A LOT. In fact, if you like spanking and you don't like the concept of DD, I'd stick around if I were you because you'll get a lot of your favorite subject.

I AM IN A CDD RELATIONSHIP. And I love it. I'm not a poor, abused housewife—actually, you won't believe how spoiled I am. I mean, crap—I'm writing this blog from my house, from my lounge chair, at one o'clock in the afternoon on a Thursday. Because James, my husband, spoils me and doesn't make me go to a real job. He lets me be a housewife. Spanking is my part-time job, my hobby, my life. It doesn't pay very well, but then again, I don't spend very much, so it works out in the end.

You'll notice I italicized "DD" after the "C". That's because I wasn't very Christian until about two years ago, but I still really wanted to be in a DD relationship. Wanted it since I found out what DD was. I think, personally, when the partners are Christian, the "C" is inherent in DD. In fact, even though I'm not a bible thumper, I think that the morals of most human beings are very similar to Christian morals, so in practice, CDD and DD aren't that different. And DD is all about using discipline to maintain your morals, your beliefs, and your relationship with your partner.

What does spanking have to do with Jesus?!

Absolutely nothing. I mean, I could read you quotes that allude to men being the HOH and whatever else, but let's face it—Jesus probably wouldn't have spanked his wife if he was married. He didn't have to—he could just talk his wife into being a good person and change her heart with the Holy Spirit.

Regular men aren't as lucky. Of course, they also aren't perfect themselves, as Jesus was, so they can't lead perfectly by example.

They don't have the Godly power to look into their mates' souls—or to read their minds (but man, I wish they could!). But that doesn't make them bad people; it just makes their lives a little bit harder in this sense. They can't change their wives' souls, or personalities, but they can help change her behavior.

But why spanking?

Because it's easiest and least damaging. I mean, they could just ground us and send us to our room—and in some DD relationships, that's all the man ever does to chastise his wife. Sometimes grounding works, that's why it's such a popular parenting technique nowadays! But let's face it; it normally doesn't work with adults. I mean, which of us couldn't use a day or a week inside our room without having to worry about social relationships, TV, research, or the noise and hassle of the outside world? Sounds like a great way to catch up on my cat-naps!

Spanking is quick, efficient, and gets you back to your normal life after around 5 minutes. After which, you can pick up your kids from their soccer practice, cook dinner, go to work, go to your sewing circle, or go to your company softball practice. But you've been chastised—you're in pain for awhile, and you're probably a bit humiliated—you at least feel silly for getting yourself in that situation in the first place—but you're less likely to do whatever you did to get a spanking ever again. And, because you've "paid the piper", you don't have to carry your guilt on your shoulders. Tomorrow is another day!

But isn't DD inherently sexual?

It wasn't in the "old days". I mean, if you were spanked as a child, I'm certain there were no sexual feelings involved—hopefully! But spanking is becoming more and more inherently sexual mostly because spanking is becoming so outlandish and taboo. Not many schools spank anymore; most of my generation has never been spanked or seen a spanking with their own eyes. So people are curious about it, and sometimes good-old-fashioned scholar curiosity turns into sexual fantasy. That's what's going on.

People used to spank their wives, too. Often. I mean, half the old westerns you see on TV allude to as much. And you didn't have to be "Into spanking" to do it. You did it, because how else are you going to direct your woman onto the proper path? Nobody else they knew was doing anything differently.

But I'm "into spanking" and in a DD relationship. I was into spanking before I was "into it" sexually. I was just obsessed with spanking as a little kid—it filled me with great happiness and merriment if I read it in a book, saw it in a movie, heard about it, talked about it. And I'm not too weird—it's actually really common to find people in the Spanking Community with similar histories.

But am I into it sexually? Yep. I am. Does it 'turn me on'? Normally. That's why I write novels about it—just sharing my fantasies with others. Does it mean I LIKE DISCIPLINE SPANKINGS? No. No, and if it does to you, he's not spanking hard enough. Not unless you're a masochist, in which case you're a horse of a different color! And I'll no doubt be writing a blog about the difference between us soon enough.

Should everyone be in a DD relationship?

HELL, NO!

In an ideal world, where everyone's good at heart, and the men in society are good, hard-working people who want to stand out in society in a positive manner and care about their wives more than themselves, then yes.

But unfortunately, that sort of society, where chivalry is revered and men wouldn't even THINK about hurting their wives physically or emotionally, is dead, if it ever existed. I'll be blogging about how you know the difference between a good man who deserves to be HOH, and one that doesn't, so stay tuned. But I'll just tell you right now that A LOT of people out there are not GOOD people.

What if I have questions about DD and need them answered?

Leave a comment or write me! I would love to answer your questions. I've been in the spanking circuit since I was thirteen. I know what's what. I would love to share my opinions and experiences with anybody. Helps me come up with blog ideas, anyway. My email's koreymae@gmail.com if you want to write me privately.

FOR MORE INFORMATION, NOTES, and OPINIONS, STAY TUNED for the next blog!