Friday, May 29, 2009



It was a beautiful day, the sun warming her body as she stood on the pit wall. The cars flew by, exhaust and sound trailing as she waited for Jean. Again she tapped the intercom, straining for his voice though he was less than a mile away.

"What's up? Dont see you..."

She looked up, saw oily smoke over the trees.

"Seventeen car. Where are you?"

Although it was twenty years ago she remembered it like yesterday, her name over the PA system, report to the trailer. The sun dimmed, the sky turned to black clouds. She walked, then ran towards the crash truck, the door open, waiting, arms waving frantically.

She'd seen smashed racecars. But it had never been theirs. the parts twisted together looking like so much macaroni. She'd seen twisted bodies too. But not his. She had tensed, then felt the baby jump.

She snapped her head - that was twenty years ago. She made a life for her and her son. She was an accomplished flautist; she worked whenever she wished all over Europe. She still followed racing, dragging her son behind. Still in demand to perform the job she had for Jean, the calm voice over the radio.

"Marcel, where are you. Dont see you..."

Of course, he insisted on folowing his father. Now she waited, just like before.

She heard her name over the PA system, report to the trailer. The sun dimmed, the sky turned to black clouds. She ran.



My thanks as usual to my fellow writers - well, they're writers.


I wanted to do something different from my usual stuff. I may have found a limit to the 250 word idea, though. 20 years in 250 words is probably stretching it too far...

Friday, May 22, 2009

Flash Fiction Friday #4

The sculpture and the Cane

I watched her as she shaped the formless clay into her thoughts. Another D&D character, I thought, but be damned if I recognized it. She had a huge following of teen-aged boys who crowded what was once my garage, now her studio. Sometimes she seemed to revert to their age - I never knew what to expect. Today, though, she was alone.

“And that is a…?”

I hesitated to guess. She turned up her pert nose to face me.

“Silly – don’t you know?”

It was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“You had one in your old character collection. It’s a hippogriff”

Recollection came flooding back. Except that mine was a two inch tall casting. Her sculpture was well over two feet tall, magnificently detailed. I couldn’t wait to see it in color. But now it was time for something else.

“Time to clean up and come in. The babysitter’s here”

Her demeanor changed instantly – she went from my artist to my submissive. It was a game we’d played before, and I knew she hated it. But still she played. For my pleasure.

Slowly she removed the apron, cleaned her hands, looked up at me with her eyes moist. I led her across the backyard towards the house, where our friend waited.

“What did she bring today?” she asked

“A cane.” That simple. I heard an intake of breath.

I love watching my sweetie take her punishment from another woman. I was looking forward to a long afternoon. She wasn’t.


Thanks to my fellow writers for the inspiration to do this stuff - I've been away from writing for a long time - not since college and that was a long long time ago. @caseydamnmorgan, @naughtyAbby, @SabrinaMorgan, @SpankinResource. And (hopefully) two new members @thursdays_child and @swimnaked.

I don't know who came up with hippogriff - I had to ask casey WTF it was - but it really made this a challenge. I thought of a dozen different plots, from total fantasy with a young girl tending to the hippogriff staked out behind the school (guess which one) to plagarizing some of the 17th century poetry written to the beast. In the end I settled for TTWD as the environment. Thanks for coming up with such a creative keyword.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Role Playing I

I think of role-playing as a way of bringing pseudo-reality to a session, to make real our spanking fantasies. While many of us are amateur actors & actresses, I think it helps to have a structure to play our fantasies against – it keeps both of us with the same scene in mind. These scenario write-ups were intended for that. These were written a while ago for someone who had specific real life issues (procrastinating, lack of control in spending money, speeding, late for work). They tend to be severe because she wanted a punishment spanking to help her overcome her problems. In our pre-spanking discussion her desire was to have a bottom that was purple and sore for several days, and that kind of drove the way I wrote these. She picked Working Girl Paddling as the one she wanted to try, and we set it up for sometime over the next few nights. I did send her an email on her company account at the appointed hour, which I thought gave a nice sense of presence. When I opened the door for her she was much more nervous than she had been for previous play spankings, but she did carry on. We actually did go through the last few lines at the end pretty much as written before I started the paddling, although obviously she didn’t have to say much.

Everything here is before the actual spanking. The scenarios are intended to take the two of us up to the point where the first swat happens – after that I know how the spanking will proceed, but I don’t think the submissive should. The objective is to take her into a head-space where she can accept the spanking – “Of course I deserve the spanking, considering what I did…” – and enjoy it.

Obviously a spanking done with these as a background can reflect a lower intensity – that’s something you decide on a case-by-case basis. These reflect an adult-adult relationship, in which real punishment for real-life problems was the objective. When the role-playing environment is simulated adult-juvenile or between lovers you wouldn’t want to blister a poor girls bottom like that.

In my world there are two ways to play a role-playing spanking:

1. Use your normal safewords – this is like any other play spanking environment

2. To make it more realistic negotiate how harsh the spanking should be. Staying within those limits, administer the spanking without a safeword. I only recommend this if you have enough history together that you know exactly where she is in terms of her ability to handle the situation.

These are somewhat long, so I decided to break this post into two pieces.

Working Girl Paddling

You have just started a new job, and you are office help. You are just getting to know the girls you work with. You walk into the break room for coffee, and several of them are standing around with expressions of shared misery. You ask what's the matter. They tell you that Lana (you've met her and she seems like a nice person) just "Got It".

You ask what they mean by "Got It" - one of them asks if you remember that one of the forms that you signed when you were hired was a permission slip for corporal punishment. You vaguely remember that it was there, but you signed a lot of forms that day. They all take turns explaining that any female employee who fails to meet performance levels has a choice - she can take a spanking from the boss, or she is considered to have resigned. You breathe in - you mean we have to take a real spanking? Yes - they tell you - we do. And poor Lana is sitting in the ladies room crying her eyes out because she got spanked last night. She can't sit down at her desk without her bottom really hurting.

You wonder what you got yourself into. Lana was spanked because she was late every day for the last 3 weeks. She got "The Mail" - what's that, you ask. They tell you that an email shows up on your computer from the boss. It just gives the address, and to be there after work. You discover that all your new girlfriends have gotten "The Mail" - every girl that works here has been spanked, but some who cant seem to learn have gotten it several times. Sometimes the boss takes a girl across his knee and just uses a hairbrush, but if he is really ticked off at your behavior, he uses either a wooden bathbrush or (shudder) an oak paddle. Lana had a date with the oak paddle. The boss REALLY gets angry about girls coming in late. You start to get butterflies in your tummy - you know you've been late most of the last 3 weeks since you were hired.

Sore bottoms seem to be part of the job here. They tell you the emails normally go out about 1 PM. Part of you thinks this might not be too bad - after all you were spanked as a child. How bad could it be? On the other hand, being paddled with an oak paddle might be pretty bad.

A little later you have to go to the bathroom. In the ladies room Lana is still quietly crying. You go over to comfort her, and ask her how bad was it. She turns around and lifts up her skirt. You gasp as you look at a bottom that is completely purple. No wonder she's crying - it must really hurt.

You go back to your desk. Promptly at one o'clock you hear the computer play its merry little tune telling you that you've got mail. You read it and gasp. It is from me - it only has one line - my apartment address, where to park, and to be there after work.


You park where you've been told and walk up to my door. Taking a deep breath, you knock. I open the door slowly and invite you in. A wooden chair is in the middle of the room, and sitting on the chair is a large oak paddle. You've never been spanked with anything quite like that. It takes every bit of your self control to follow where I point you, lifting your skirt, pulling down your pantyhose, and bending over the chair.

"Young Lady" I begin - "I believe that three full weeks of tardy attendance is a record for new girls who work for me"

"Yes Sir" you manage to say

"Did you see Lana's bare little bottom" I ask?

""Yes Sir" again

"Yours will look just like that - are you ready?"

"Ummmm - I guess so Sir"

The first swat lifts you up on tiptoes - and that is an easy one. It turns out to be a long evening for you...

By the way, this is based (loosely) on something that really happened – a guy running a company back in Iowa regularly spanked his female employees, and none of them would testify against him despite the best efforts of several female organizations…

The next one is based a little more loosely on life – but it’s a neat idea…

Speeding Spanking

It is a warm Los Angeles evening, and you are one happy girl. You have been pestering me to let you drive my BMW and I finally gave in. I tell you to keep it under 90 and you are on your own for tickets - but if you get a ticket you'll get a spanking. You give me that cute little wink of yours and say "Of course Papa Tom" - but you're really planning something else entirely.

The windows are down, the moonroof is open, and the LA freeway system is your private racetrack. You are well over 130 miles an hour, really enjoying the freedom and the feeling and the rush. You come roaring up behind a slow moving car who doesn't move out of the way fast enough for you, and you get a sense of irritation - you honk the horn, hit your high beams, flash around him.

It is mere minutes later that you see the CHP cruiser pull behind you, with its flashers on. You suddenly realize that you're in real trouble - it isn't your car, you were going real fast, but WORST of all - you are going to have to live with the consequences when you get home. Unless you can lie convincingly and hide the ticket. Oh damn. The CHP officer turns out to be a lovely blonde - she smiles at you. You have to listen to a long lecture on speeding and street racing and what a ditz you are, before she asks for your license, registration, and insurance. "And by the way, did your boyfriend tell you that you could go that fast in this"

You're a little bit stunned - you ask how she knew it was your boyfriend’s car without checking the registration. She just laughs - "Tom and I dated for years - I not only used to date him, I was his pit crew when he used to race this car. I know every inch of it. And BOY is he going to be pissed..." You know she's right – if I find out I will really be pissed. And then you WOULD get a spanking. You can just feel it.

She finishes writing the ticket for 95 mph and hands it to you "I'd guess that will be five hundred dollars sweetie - and if I didn't know whose car it was it would be impounded and you'd be in jail. I'm betting he's going to paddle your ass till you can’t sit down. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be there and watch" You know she's right, and you can just feel it.

You drive back to my apartment slowly, park the car, and come inside. I ask you if you enjoyed meeting Juile, my ex. You stare at me and ask me how I knew. I explain that she called me when the dispatch came out, and she took the call to keep me from having my car impounded. Also, she really hoped I'd give you a good spanking. I'm sitting on the chair with the bathbrush in my hand.

You know that when you betray a trust you really deserve a spanking. And you know that you are going to get one. A real punishment spanking, since you really were a bad girl. You bare your bottom and get across my lap, without even being told. You are ready for your first real spanking from me. You're afraid. You know that sitting will be hard tomorrow.


This one came about because she DID keep pestering me to drive my car. I told her she could if she wanted to play out this scenario. She took a long time making up her mind…


Saturday, May 16, 2009

Friday Flash Fiction #3

This is my entry for todays FFF - my fellow tripple F'rs are @spankinresource, @caseydamnmorgan, @naughtyAbby, and @SabrinaMorgan.


I stepped from the shower, physically clean and mentally drained. You stood there nervously twisting the ring that said for all to see that you were my slave, a replica of the one “O” wore. Your eyes were red from a night and day of crying, some of which I’d heard.

“When you’re dressed I have dinner ready Sir”

You finally had grasped that I was not ambivalent about your service. I expected no less than perfection – failure would be rewarded with my rough leather strap. You’d become quite familiar with it

You led me to the patio, served dinner for us both. Your effort was visible in the selection, the preparation, and the presentation. I smiled at the pillow you sat on. As I finished you sprang to your feet and cleared everything – again I could find no fault whatever. You served me dessert – lemon meringue pie. I hadn’t thought you’d even listened – and brought a small snifter of my favorite cognac, then knelt next to me. Sitting under the beautiful coastal blue sky, a fine meal, a beautiful submissive woman, an excellent cognac, the classical sounds of “In Principio” in the background – I couldn’t be happier. Your gentle voice disrupted my thoughts.

“Sir, are you pleased?” You were again nervously playing with your ring, concern on your face.

I gently tilted your head so I could view your eyes.

“Of course, darling. You have pleased me tonight – very, very much”

Your smile was reward enough for my day.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Friday Flash Fiction #2

Had to post this early - will be travelling today.

This is the entry for today's FFF - my thanks to @caseydamnmorgan, @spankinresource, and @SabrinaMorgan for the opportunity to be part of this,


She stood on the cold concrete floor, both hands interlocked behind her bottom, nervously twisting back and forth, her eyes fixed on a crack inches from her toes. She was in trouble – disobedience means a spanking.

“How did you get in?”

“I found an old skeleton key in the shed and I wondered what it was for and it locked and unlocked all the old doors upstairs…”

Her voice trembled

“… and it opened the basement door and then I couldn’t get it locked again.”

Now she looked up at me, her eyes moist, tears in her voice. It really tore at my gut.

“There are other things down here besides spanking toys – dangerous things. I just want to keep you safe”

She tried to look back at me but the cuffs that held her bent over the table restrained her. Her housedress lifted around her waist, underpanties at her knees, looking like a girl rather than a grown woman. She twisted when she heard the hiss of the belt pulling from my slacks, jumped when I snapped the folded belt. She tried to keep still, quiet – that was her way during punishment – but the pain was too much. Each stroke echoed in the empty basement room, left its mark, forced a cry from her lips. I continued until she learned the lesson.

But I hated it.

“Give me the key”

She fumbled for it, then ran up the stairs, thighs flashing, sobs in her wake.

I’ll hold her later tonight.


I have never understood why, when a girl realizes that she is really, truly, going to get a spanking, she stands in front of you


reaches around behind her to try to cover her bottom with her cute tiny little hands…

Now you and I and she know that her hands aren’t going to make any difference. When you pull her across your knee she’ll be staring at the carpet. You will simply grasp her tiny little wrist in yours and move it out of the way, holding her in place.

And you’ll reach behind you to get the hairbrush.

And then you’ll use it.

As long as you need to.

Vanilla girls always have the same reaction.

It never fails to amaze me.

But then, I have to say I really enjoy it.

Always will

Cause I’m a Dom

Saturday, May 2, 2009

The Sweater

This is a late entry for the 250 word spanking story contest - I couldn't make the deadline so I kind of audited the class (@naughtyabby, @caseydamnmorgan, @SabrinaMorgan, @spankingresource)

You burst in the door excited, happy, puppy at your heels. The little girl in you pouring out the joy of exploring the woods. You danced through the living room clutching your sweater, humming contentedly in the kitchen.

I found your sweater in the corner. I noticed a loose thread, torn wool. You’d caught it on a branch, ruined an expensive sweater. You’d asked for it. Pleaded for it - a hundred dollar sweater. I held it out as I walked into the bedroom. You begged me not to punish you.

I walked outside. With 10 acres of trees there was no shortage of switches. The willows were just budding. A willow switch, I thought, a green willow switch would really teach a lesson.

As I peeled the switch you asked for a hairbrush spanking instead – you were scared– you hate my hairbrush. Your tiny hands around your ankles, cool evening air on your bare bottom. I began– heard the “swish-thwap”, saw the first tears, the first welt rising.

“One Sir Thank You Sir” you sobbed. Your cries filled the evening. There was no one but you and I to hear them.

I walked you, stumbling, to bed, fresh tears streaming. I put you to bed, closed the door, listened to you cry yourself to sleep. Later I slipped in and held you.

You woke me to show me your marks, every stroke written in violet across your skin. Wrapping yourself around me you whispered

“Thank you Sir – I deserved it”