Friday, December 29, 2006
For The Sake Of Accuracy
Dave, from His To Spank, His To Love, pointed out an inconsistancy in my Twleve Spankings of Christmas post. He alertly noted that I had mentioned using the ping pong paddle twice. Had we done so, we would have used only eleven implements. We did, in fact, use twelve. I even checked with my dear wife since her memory is often better than mine, and she also was quite sure that we did not re-use any of the implements involved.
I would, therefore, like to take this opportunity to post a correction. Spanking Number 10 should read:
Over arm of chair with small wooden paddle.
Now, it appears to me that there might be some confusion between the implement used in Spanking Number 6 (wooden paddle) and the revised Spanking Number 10 (small wooden paddle). Please allow me to illustrate the difference.
The picture to the left, while not the exact paddle, is basically the item that we refer to as the wooden paddle. It is frequently referred to as a "fraternity paddle" or "school paddle."
In contrast, the picture to the right shows a replica of our small wooden paddle. I have recently seen it called a "hairbrush paddle," although ours isn't really the correct shape for a proper hair brush.
For pointing out my error, Dave receives the Fantastic Spanking Seal Of Approval.
I hope that I have cleared up any misconceptions that you may have had about our little Christmas exchange lo those many years ago. Here at Fantastic Spanking, we do our utmost to assure accuracy. Everything posted on this particular blog is absolutely true.
Not.
I wish you all a Fantastic New Year.
Update: I had originally referred to Dave as Chris. I have changed the post to reflect Dave's correct name, which is Arnold.
I would, therefore, like to take this opportunity to post a correction. Spanking Number 10 should read:
Over arm of chair with small wooden paddle.
Now, it appears to me that there might be some confusion between the implement used in Spanking Number 6 (wooden paddle) and the revised Spanking Number 10 (small wooden paddle). Please allow me to illustrate the difference.
The picture to the left, while not the exact paddle, is basically the item that we refer to as the wooden paddle. It is frequently referred to as a "fraternity paddle" or "school paddle."
In contrast, the picture to the right shows a replica of our small wooden paddle. I have recently seen it called a "hairbrush paddle," although ours isn't really the correct shape for a proper hair brush.
For pointing out my error, Dave receives the Fantastic Spanking Seal Of Approval.
I hope that I have cleared up any misconceptions that you may have had about our little Christmas exchange lo those many years ago. Here at Fantastic Spanking, we do our utmost to assure accuracy. Everything posted on this particular blog is absolutely true.
Not.
I wish you all a Fantastic New Year.
Update: I had originally referred to Dave as Chris. I have changed the post to reflect Dave's correct name, which is Arnold.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Gifts For The Spankos
The second Christmas that Angela and I were married, we were in somewhat limited financial straits. We had recently been forced to buy a new car since the engine in my junker decided to blow itself to bits. We had moved into a house that we were renting, causing us to come up with a considerable security deposit. Finally, Angela was five months pregnant with our first child. It would be inaccurate to say that we were in serious debt, or that we were unable to meet our obligations. However, our disposable cash was quite minimal and our savings were depleted. We determined that, except for a token, we would be unable to purchase Christmas presents for each other.
Fortunately, not all Christmas presents need be purchased. There are some things that can be given that cannot be bought. Angela and I discussed the subject and came up with what we thought to be most appropriate gifts. That gift, my loyal readers, is something that I would like to share with all of you today.
And so, on this Christmas Eve, as my present to you, here is the gift that Angela and I shared on that memorable Christmas twenty-one years ago.
The Twelve Spankings Of Christmas
Before beginning, I should point out that I am not actually going to give each of you twelve spankings. Besides the logistical difficulties of getting together with everyone, and finding the time to do so, since you are all real and I am not, spanking you would obviously not be possible. Rather, I am going to briefly describe each spanking that Angela and I exchanged.
There is one other note of importance that I must mention. The object of the exercise was to not just give each other twelve spankings. Rather, we set out to come up with twelve different spankings that we could exchange. We collected twelve of our favorite spanking implements, and then thought up twelve different positions. Finally, through a combination of random choices and what we thought would be really hot, we designed twelve spankings that were unique to one another. We threw in a few variables, such as dress, location, and scenario. What follows is the list of what we came up with:
1. Wearing only a t-shirt, bent over the edge of the bed, with the shower brush.
2. Lectured and ordered to remove one item of clothing at a time until naked, standing up bent over, with a belt
3. Naked, OTK with a leather strap
4. Wearing pajamas, laying down on bed with a ping pong paddle
5. Boss spanking poor performing employee, hands and knees on desk with hairbrush
6. Pants at ankles, over footstool with wooden paddle
7. Wearing only socks, over back of sofa with a rod
8. College professor punishing poor student, bent over a table with leather paddle
9. Caught masturbating in barn, stripped naked, standing straight up, with riding crop
10. Over arm of chair with Ping Pong Paddle
11. Undies at ankles, kneeling on chair, Wooden Spoon
12. Guard punishing prisoner, wearing gray sweats, arms on wall, bottom stuck out, with a Paddle Ball Paddle
Fortunately, not all Christmas presents need be purchased. There are some things that can be given that cannot be bought. Angela and I discussed the subject and came up with what we thought to be most appropriate gifts. That gift, my loyal readers, is something that I would like to share with all of you today.
And so, on this Christmas Eve, as my present to you, here is the gift that Angela and I shared on that memorable Christmas twenty-one years ago.
The Twelve Spankings Of Christmas
Before beginning, I should point out that I am not actually going to give each of you twelve spankings. Besides the logistical difficulties of getting together with everyone, and finding the time to do so, since you are all real and I am not, spanking you would obviously not be possible. Rather, I am going to briefly describe each spanking that Angela and I exchanged.
There is one other note of importance that I must mention. The object of the exercise was to not just give each other twelve spankings. Rather, we set out to come up with twelve different spankings that we could exchange. We collected twelve of our favorite spanking implements, and then thought up twelve different positions. Finally, through a combination of random choices and what we thought would be really hot, we designed twelve spankings that were unique to one another. We threw in a few variables, such as dress, location, and scenario. What follows is the list of what we came up with:
1. Wearing only a t-shirt, bent over the edge of the bed, with the shower brush.
2. Lectured and ordered to remove one item of clothing at a time until naked, standing up bent over, with a belt
3. Naked, OTK with a leather strap
4. Wearing pajamas, laying down on bed with a ping pong paddle
5. Boss spanking poor performing employee, hands and knees on desk with hairbrush
6. Pants at ankles, over footstool with wooden paddle
7. Wearing only socks, over back of sofa with a rod
8. College professor punishing poor student, bent over a table with leather paddle
9. Caught masturbating in barn, stripped naked, standing straight up, with riding crop
10. Over arm of chair with Ping Pong Paddle
11. Undies at ankles, kneeling on chair, Wooden Spoon
12. Guard punishing prisoner, wearing gray sweats, arms on wall, bottom stuck out, with a Paddle Ball Paddle
We originally were going to exchange these gifts entirely on Christmas Day. Unfortunately, this proved impossible due to the constraints of time. When we first planned the event out, we did not account for time necessary for various other sexual exploits. Besides, even for spankos, there are only so many spankings that one can get in a day before they become tiresome. We ended up getting three spankings each before we had to leave to visit my parents. We exchanged another spanking later that evening, and spread the remainder of our gifts out over a couple of weeks.Hopefully, you’ll be able to get some ideas for you own Christmas presents from these. It was the right present, and at the right price. Overall, they were fantastic gifts.
While I’m on the subject of fantastic, here’s wishing all of you, where ever you are, what ever you do, and whomever you spank, the most Fantastic Christmas that you can have.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Road Trip
This past weekend, the Spakowiak family packed themselves into the car and headed off to watch Maribel play basketball for the college that she attends. If you are a devotee of college basketball, you’d probably like to know which school she resides at so that you might be able to catch her ply her craft on ESPN. Alas, none of the so-called “big” schools opted to recruit my wonderfully talented daughter, so she chose one of our fine, smaller regional state schools that participates in sports at the level commonly knows as Division II.
I try to see as many as Maribel’s games as possible, although I will often have to miss the weekday games due to the interference of that mass of chaos knows as life. Life has been particularly hectic this year, so this was only the second game that I was able to attend. In the first game, her school played one of the large state schools which is in Division I, and the game was contested in the gym of the larger school. Even though Maribel played her heart out, and played rather well (she led her team in scoring and rebounding), the game was a complete mismatch. Maribel’s school lost by a score of something like 97 to 16. I may exaggerate the final tally somewhat, but not by much. To make matters worse, the home team’s fans made an ear-splitting din throughout the entire game, vociferously rooting against my beloved daughter’s side. It was painful to watch.
Because of that, I was somewhat nervous as to the quality of her team. They were playing another Division I school, however this team was from a much lesser school in terms of basketball prowess, and Maribel and her teammates were playing hosts. Still, I greatly feared another crushing loss.
My fears went unfounded, thank goodness. Maribel’s team has improved substantially from that earlier whipping. They were more organized, more precise, and much more spirited. Although it was a closely-contested game, Maribel’s squad was able to control the tempo throughout most of the game, and in the end they prevailed! What made a father more proud what the fact that his precious, fragile little girl played like a monster. She had 26 points, 14 rebounds, 8 assists (just missing the ultimate accomplishment, the “triple-double”), and 4 block shots. She brought the crowd to it’s feet on one memorable play when she blocked a shot when an opposing player attempted to score on a back-door cut and then, when another opponent grabbed the ball and shot, she blocked that one, too. She then out-fought another opponent for the ball and threw a long pass down court to a teammate for an easy layup. Her father was never more proud.
If you had thoughts of a sexual nature upon reading the term “back-door cut,” then shame on you.
Getting back to the story, even though the ladies, like the men, have adopted the longer shorts rather than the silly little shorties that were used when her father was in college. Despite this, I noticed that Maribel sported a red welt on the back of one thigh. Since I am aware of her tendencies toward spanking, I feared that perhaps she and her beau had “played” a little too hard at some point in time prior to the game.
Now, please don’t get me wrong. I don’t have an issue with Maribel enjoying spanking as much as her parents do, at least in theory. However, daddy will always think of his daughters as playful little girls with a pony tail and an ever-present doll or teddy bear, running up to daddy with affectionate hugs or sloppy kisses for any reason or even no reason at all. It still makes daddy cringe to know that, on occasion, she will be rolling around, naked and sweaty, with some man while he attempts to insert various portions of his anatomy into hers. It is even worse to think that of that person spanking her. Dads are funny that way. I’m sure that I’d have no such trepidations were I to have a sexually-active son. However, Maribel is an adult and her sex life is her business, so I vowed not to comment on the red mark.
Her mother, on the other hand, made no such vow. When we had rendezvoused after the game, Angela commented, “It looks like you have a pretty nasty welt on your leg. How did you manage to get that.?”
“Oh, man,” Maribel replied. “One of the girls was playing around after practice yesterday, snapping a wet towel all over the place. She caught me on the back of the thigh. Man, did that hurt! I could have killed her!”
Angela seemed to accept that as an explanation and the conversation moved on. I figured that if Maribel’s story was good enough for Angela, then it would have to be good enough for me.
Maribel could not come home with us since the basketball season is on-going, so she has to stay at school to be able to attend practice. They have another contest on Saturday, then she’ll come home for a few days for the holidays. Her visit will be brief, however, as she will have to return when practice resumes the following Wednesday. I’m sure the visit will be pleasant. Maribel has matured considerably since starting college, so the days of constant family-teenage conflict seem to be in the past.
I miss being able to see Maribel every day. She’s always been an active, confident kid. Not an angel, mind you, but fun. The house has one Angel anyway. I’m trying to enjoy my youngest daughter now, since she’ll be starting college and moving out entirely too soon. At that time I’ll probably officially consider myself old, and I’m not ready to be old yet. For now, I’m going to just savor my fantastic family.
Of course, with no children in the house, Angela and I will be able to exchange spankings any time that we wish. And that, too, will be fantastic.
I try to see as many as Maribel’s games as possible, although I will often have to miss the weekday games due to the interference of that mass of chaos knows as life. Life has been particularly hectic this year, so this was only the second game that I was able to attend. In the first game, her school played one of the large state schools which is in Division I, and the game was contested in the gym of the larger school. Even though Maribel played her heart out, and played rather well (she led her team in scoring and rebounding), the game was a complete mismatch. Maribel’s school lost by a score of something like 97 to 16. I may exaggerate the final tally somewhat, but not by much. To make matters worse, the home team’s fans made an ear-splitting din throughout the entire game, vociferously rooting against my beloved daughter’s side. It was painful to watch.
Because of that, I was somewhat nervous as to the quality of her team. They were playing another Division I school, however this team was from a much lesser school in terms of basketball prowess, and Maribel and her teammates were playing hosts. Still, I greatly feared another crushing loss.
My fears went unfounded, thank goodness. Maribel’s team has improved substantially from that earlier whipping. They were more organized, more precise, and much more spirited. Although it was a closely-contested game, Maribel’s squad was able to control the tempo throughout most of the game, and in the end they prevailed! What made a father more proud what the fact that his precious, fragile little girl played like a monster. She had 26 points, 14 rebounds, 8 assists (just missing the ultimate accomplishment, the “triple-double”), and 4 block shots. She brought the crowd to it’s feet on one memorable play when she blocked a shot when an opposing player attempted to score on a back-door cut and then, when another opponent grabbed the ball and shot, she blocked that one, too. She then out-fought another opponent for the ball and threw a long pass down court to a teammate for an easy layup. Her father was never more proud.
If you had thoughts of a sexual nature upon reading the term “back-door cut,” then shame on you.
Getting back to the story, even though the ladies, like the men, have adopted the longer shorts rather than the silly little shorties that were used when her father was in college. Despite this, I noticed that Maribel sported a red welt on the back of one thigh. Since I am aware of her tendencies toward spanking, I feared that perhaps she and her beau had “played” a little too hard at some point in time prior to the game.
Now, please don’t get me wrong. I don’t have an issue with Maribel enjoying spanking as much as her parents do, at least in theory. However, daddy will always think of his daughters as playful little girls with a pony tail and an ever-present doll or teddy bear, running up to daddy with affectionate hugs or sloppy kisses for any reason or even no reason at all. It still makes daddy cringe to know that, on occasion, she will be rolling around, naked and sweaty, with some man while he attempts to insert various portions of his anatomy into hers. It is even worse to think that of that person spanking her. Dads are funny that way. I’m sure that I’d have no such trepidations were I to have a sexually-active son. However, Maribel is an adult and her sex life is her business, so I vowed not to comment on the red mark.
Her mother, on the other hand, made no such vow. When we had rendezvoused after the game, Angela commented, “It looks like you have a pretty nasty welt on your leg. How did you manage to get that.?”
“Oh, man,” Maribel replied. “One of the girls was playing around after practice yesterday, snapping a wet towel all over the place. She caught me on the back of the thigh. Man, did that hurt! I could have killed her!”
Angela seemed to accept that as an explanation and the conversation moved on. I figured that if Maribel’s story was good enough for Angela, then it would have to be good enough for me.
Maribel could not come home with us since the basketball season is on-going, so she has to stay at school to be able to attend practice. They have another contest on Saturday, then she’ll come home for a few days for the holidays. Her visit will be brief, however, as she will have to return when practice resumes the following Wednesday. I’m sure the visit will be pleasant. Maribel has matured considerably since starting college, so the days of constant family-teenage conflict seem to be in the past.
I miss being able to see Maribel every day. She’s always been an active, confident kid. Not an angel, mind you, but fun. The house has one Angel anyway. I’m trying to enjoy my youngest daughter now, since she’ll be starting college and moving out entirely too soon. At that time I’ll probably officially consider myself old, and I’m not ready to be old yet. For now, I’m going to just savor my fantastic family.
Of course, with no children in the house, Angela and I will be able to exchange spankings any time that we wish. And that, too, will be fantastic.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Angela Gets A Spanking, As Promised
In my previous post, I promised to discuss an incident that took place between Angela and I during the past week. My darling wife was working from home while she convalesced from a cranky back, or a banky crack, depending on what mood you are in. I, of course, regularly work from home because it would make me feel bad to have this nice, big house and have to leave it every day.
Last week, my lovely wife started to get into the habit of visiting me in my office in a state of, shall we say, partial nudity. For example, mid-morning last Monday she popped in and asked me if I wanted another cup of tea. She was wearing no pants. No undies, no thong, not even a jock strap. I thought perhaps that she had decided that the day was to be another “no pants day,” but when I asked her about it, she acted as if she had not the faintest notion of what I was talking about.
The next day at midday, she appeared to ask if I wanted to partake in some lunch. She was decidedly topless. Now, I don’t mind gazing upon the lovely breasts of my wife, but I was again taken aback. She acted as if nothing were different. When she returned with the noon meal, she had donned a shirt.
This occurred regularly for the next couple of days. She’d appear topless, then bottomless, and once she wore just a brassiere. If I inquired as to the reason for her states of undress, she continued to insist that she was in no such state. I began to get entirely distracted.
At last, on Thursday, when she brought me a nice, steaming cup of oolong (that’s a kind of tea for those of you who are strictly coffee drinkers), she was attired in nothing except a tiny red bow tie. She wasn’t even wearing stockings. It was at this point that I became entirely exasperated and decided that it was time to take action.
I took a sip of my tea (excellently brewed, I might add), and put down my cup. Then I said, “My dear, why exactly do you insist on visiting me this week missing various sections of you clothing?”
“Why,” she responded coyly, “whatever are you referring to?”
“I’m referring to your current attire, or lack thereof. Monday it was no pants. Tuesday it was no shirt. Wednesday it was no pants, then no shirt, then nothing but a bra. And now, except for that silly bow tie, you are completely naked. I’d like to know what prompted this bizarre behavior.”
She pouted. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “You don’t like the bow tie? I thought it was cute!”
At this point I felt that a specific action on my part was definitely required. I keep a wooden hairbrush in one of my desk drawers for just such an occasion. I took the brush out of the drawer, swung my chair around so that I was directly facing her, and told her, “That does it, young lady. Come here and get over my lap!”
Her reaction was entirely too enthusiastic for my tastes. Then again, she is a Spanko, so I should have expected nothing less. She hopped up and down, clapped her hands, and squealed, “Oh, goodie!” She scurried over to me and plopped herself over my legs.
Naturally, I took the opportunity to admire her excellent posterior, which, despite being in it’s mid-forties (as it she, and I, for that matter) is still in fine shape. I brandished the hairbrush and told her, “I’m serious, young lady. I’m going to paddle you good and hard for your recalcitrance.”
“If you insist,” she responded, so I insisted several hard swats to her waiting cheeks. She was startled and yelped, but when I stopped to let her get her bearings, she was giggling like a schoolgirl. I got right down to the business of spanking her.
I methodically hammered each cheek, switching back and forth after a few swats. I made sure to get the entire surface, including sides, both inside and out. I even ventured a couple swats on her upper thighs, although not too hard so that there would be no marks for our daughter to accidentally catch sight of. I showed no mercy, making sure each swat had considerable velocity behind it. I took my time until her entire butt was a very nice, deep shade of red, slightly darker than Santa Claus’ standard suit.
When I was done, Angela was not giggling any more. Instead, she stood up and planted a very long, deep kiss upon my lips, complete with an exploring tongue. “It’s about fucking time you spanked me,” she said.
“Well, darling, I was making the excitement build so that you’d enjoy it all that much more.” That was, in fact, a true statement. She responded with a big smile and another massive lip lock.
Afterward, Angela donned a set of comfy sweats, although every time I saw her from that point until Colette came home she made sure to bare her bottom and asked me how red she was. We otherwise behaved ourselves for the remainder of the day and into the evening. Sometime after dinner, we informed Colette that we were both tired from a busy day and were heading for an early bedtime. Colette was occupied with discussing “homework” on the phone with one of her girl friends so she paid us little attention. I needn’t go into details as to why we actually retired early. Let’s just way that we attended to each other’s needs, and I’m not just referring to the massage that I gave to my darling’s aching back.
I’m sure that, at this moment, Angela is think up a new way to torment me this week. I’m trying to determine how long I should wait before I again apply the wood to her backside. Such a tough decision. Tough, but fantastic.
Last week, my lovely wife started to get into the habit of visiting me in my office in a state of, shall we say, partial nudity. For example, mid-morning last Monday she popped in and asked me if I wanted another cup of tea. She was wearing no pants. No undies, no thong, not even a jock strap. I thought perhaps that she had decided that the day was to be another “no pants day,” but when I asked her about it, she acted as if she had not the faintest notion of what I was talking about.
The next day at midday, she appeared to ask if I wanted to partake in some lunch. She was decidedly topless. Now, I don’t mind gazing upon the lovely breasts of my wife, but I was again taken aback. She acted as if nothing were different. When she returned with the noon meal, she had donned a shirt.
This occurred regularly for the next couple of days. She’d appear topless, then bottomless, and once she wore just a brassiere. If I inquired as to the reason for her states of undress, she continued to insist that she was in no such state. I began to get entirely distracted.
At last, on Thursday, when she brought me a nice, steaming cup of oolong (that’s a kind of tea for those of you who are strictly coffee drinkers), she was attired in nothing except a tiny red bow tie. She wasn’t even wearing stockings. It was at this point that I became entirely exasperated and decided that it was time to take action.
I took a sip of my tea (excellently brewed, I might add), and put down my cup. Then I said, “My dear, why exactly do you insist on visiting me this week missing various sections of you clothing?”
“Why,” she responded coyly, “whatever are you referring to?”
“I’m referring to your current attire, or lack thereof. Monday it was no pants. Tuesday it was no shirt. Wednesday it was no pants, then no shirt, then nothing but a bra. And now, except for that silly bow tie, you are completely naked. I’d like to know what prompted this bizarre behavior.”
She pouted. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “You don’t like the bow tie? I thought it was cute!”
At this point I felt that a specific action on my part was definitely required. I keep a wooden hairbrush in one of my desk drawers for just such an occasion. I took the brush out of the drawer, swung my chair around so that I was directly facing her, and told her, “That does it, young lady. Come here and get over my lap!”
Her reaction was entirely too enthusiastic for my tastes. Then again, she is a Spanko, so I should have expected nothing less. She hopped up and down, clapped her hands, and squealed, “Oh, goodie!” She scurried over to me and plopped herself over my legs.
Naturally, I took the opportunity to admire her excellent posterior, which, despite being in it’s mid-forties (as it she, and I, for that matter) is still in fine shape. I brandished the hairbrush and told her, “I’m serious, young lady. I’m going to paddle you good and hard for your recalcitrance.”
“If you insist,” she responded, so I insisted several hard swats to her waiting cheeks. She was startled and yelped, but when I stopped to let her get her bearings, she was giggling like a schoolgirl. I got right down to the business of spanking her.
I methodically hammered each cheek, switching back and forth after a few swats. I made sure to get the entire surface, including sides, both inside and out. I even ventured a couple swats on her upper thighs, although not too hard so that there would be no marks for our daughter to accidentally catch sight of. I showed no mercy, making sure each swat had considerable velocity behind it. I took my time until her entire butt was a very nice, deep shade of red, slightly darker than Santa Claus’ standard suit.
When I was done, Angela was not giggling any more. Instead, she stood up and planted a very long, deep kiss upon my lips, complete with an exploring tongue. “It’s about fucking time you spanked me,” she said.
“Well, darling, I was making the excitement build so that you’d enjoy it all that much more.” That was, in fact, a true statement. She responded with a big smile and another massive lip lock.
Afterward, Angela donned a set of comfy sweats, although every time I saw her from that point until Colette came home she made sure to bare her bottom and asked me how red she was. We otherwise behaved ourselves for the remainder of the day and into the evening. Sometime after dinner, we informed Colette that we were both tired from a busy day and were heading for an early bedtime. Colette was occupied with discussing “homework” on the phone with one of her girl friends so she paid us little attention. I needn’t go into details as to why we actually retired early. Let’s just way that we attended to each other’s needs, and I’m not just referring to the massage that I gave to my darling’s aching back.
I’m sure that, at this moment, Angela is think up a new way to torment me this week. I’m trying to determine how long I should wait before I again apply the wood to her backside. Such a tough decision. Tough, but fantastic.
Friday, December 15, 2006
'Tis The Season...
….To be busier than the proverbial one-legged man at a butt-kicking contest. Between holiday shopping, working, debugging the internet connection in our home, and watching Maribel play basketball, I’ve had nary a minute to relax. To make matters worse, Angela reinjured her back in our Thanksgiving basketball game, so I’ve had to drive her to doctors, hospitals, and physical therapy. The one pleasant result of that was her employer was kind enough to allow her to work from home while she recovers, so I’ve gotten to see a lot of her during these past few days.
When I say that I’ve seen a lot of Angela, I’m not referring to a length of time. While Colette is in school, she has taken to popping in on me in my home office in various states of undress. She may be lacking pants, or she may be topless, or she may be simply wearing just an apron. Once she appeared wearing just a bow tie. I did not even realize that she owned a bow tie. I insisted on spanking her for that little impertinent episode, but that is a story for another day.
Today, I’ve opted for a bit of silliness. Over the next bit of time, in an effort to fill the space here, and to give my brain something simple yet stimulating, I thought that I’d formally document some aspects of the Language of Spankos. For example, there are a fair number of words or phrases that, to an ordinary person, are, well, ordinary. However, to those of us with a spanking inclination, those words can invoke the image of a person with their ass in a vulnerable position, having it thwacked repeatedly until red and sore. If you are a regular reader of this blog, I’m sure you know exactly to what I am referring.
Therefore, I present to you, my dear and loyal readers…..
Twenty Innocent Words or Phrases That Make Spankos Tingle
1. toasting buns
2. rump roast
3. butt steak
4. butt of the joke
5. hot seat
6. pink cheeks
7. rear view
8. bun warmer
9. seat warmer
10. flame-broiled
11. paddle-boat
12. Hot crossed buns
13. tail wagging
14. Rear-ender or rear-ended (as in a car accident)
15. Fanny May (either the candy company or the government mortgage company)
16. Red-hots
17. Burning cheeks (how one might describe someone who is …….)
18. Blushing
19. Bared
20. Brand-spanking new
When I say that I’ve seen a lot of Angela, I’m not referring to a length of time. While Colette is in school, she has taken to popping in on me in my home office in various states of undress. She may be lacking pants, or she may be topless, or she may be simply wearing just an apron. Once she appeared wearing just a bow tie. I did not even realize that she owned a bow tie. I insisted on spanking her for that little impertinent episode, but that is a story for another day.
Today, I’ve opted for a bit of silliness. Over the next bit of time, in an effort to fill the space here, and to give my brain something simple yet stimulating, I thought that I’d formally document some aspects of the Language of Spankos. For example, there are a fair number of words or phrases that, to an ordinary person, are, well, ordinary. However, to those of us with a spanking inclination, those words can invoke the image of a person with their ass in a vulnerable position, having it thwacked repeatedly until red and sore. If you are a regular reader of this blog, I’m sure you know exactly to what I am referring.
Therefore, I present to you, my dear and loyal readers…..
Twenty Innocent Words or Phrases That Make Spankos Tingle
1. toasting buns
2. rump roast
3. butt steak
4. butt of the joke
5. hot seat
6. pink cheeks
7. rear view
8. bun warmer
9. seat warmer
10. flame-broiled
11. paddle-boat
12. Hot crossed buns
13. tail wagging
14. Rear-ender or rear-ended (as in a car accident)
15. Fanny May (either the candy company or the government mortgage company)
16. Red-hots
17. Burning cheeks (how one might describe someone who is …….)
18. Blushing
19. Bared
20. Brand-spanking new
'Tis the season, indeed. Feel free to add your own. After all, red is a Christmas color.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
The Gin Game, Part Two
Here is the conclusion of the story of one of the early spankings that Angela and I exchanged. I must apologize for the length of time between the two parts, but a combination of poor weather, ill health, and a cranky internet connection made getting this story finished and published quite a challenge indeed. I hope ot is worth the wait. If not, I'll have Angela spank me for you.
The hand I was dealt was a poor one, so I lost the hand and, thus, the game. It was now time for Angela to spank me. I draped myself over her lap and took my medicine. We decided to continue in this fashion, with the loser getting the hairbrush on their bare bottom. It seemed like a quite pleasant way to spend an evening.
In the next game, the cards I was getting seemed to be pretty difficult to work with, and yet I was getting satisfactory results, which I, naturally, attributed to my Gin-playing talent. I won the game which, gave me the opportunity to paddle my love’s backside. Rather than being disappointed, Angela seemed rather pleased at this result. I assumed this was because of her natural spanking tendencies.
Not wanting to spoil the fun by pushing past Angela’s limits, I “carefully” paddled Angela’s bare butt as she laid over my lap. I say “carefully,” because, after all, she the hairbrush was her idea, and she did lose, so I made sure that the spanking was nicely painful, yet I carefully monitored Angela’s reactions to make sure that the evening had not moved beyond fun. I settled for about a dozed-and-a-half swats, which left her buns nicely red and warm. When Angela got up, she hopped around sweetly and vigorously rubbed her butt, but she was smiling.
Now let us jump ahead to later in the evening. The competition was fierce, and the luck swayed Angela’s way as she prevailed in the next two games. I took my punishment with a proper amount of humility, but of course I enjoyed each and every swat. I didn’t wish to seem like I was a, I suppose the term is, pain slut, but I desiring to continue playing so that we could continue spanking.
With the game count at three apiece, and the hour growing late, we decided that the next game would be the rubber match. I suggested that we play the game in the “Hollywood” style, which involves three “streets” of scores. The first hand won by a player scores in the first street, the second scores in streets one and two, and the third win scoring in all three streets. To win a street, one gets to the set amount of points in the street. Whomever wins at least two streets wins the game.
To make the game more interesting, we decided that we would place stakes on all three streets. The loser of a street received 25 swats with the hairbrush. The winner of the game would be allowed to deliver an additional 25 swats. So there were 100 whacks on the line. We also decided to hand out all spankings after the entire game had ended.
Again, the battle was ferocious. Hands were well fought, and each street was extremely close. Angela won the first street, but I put together a serious of brilliant plays and won out in second street. By coincidence, we both had the same score on third street, so we were again totally and completely tied. I decided that it was my turn to up the stakes.
“What do you say that we put an extra twenty-five swats on the outcome of this street?” I asked. “That way, whoever wins will get an even hundred.” Angela quickly agreed, perhaps a little two quickly. Right there I should have known that something was up.
I won the next hand, but only added a small amount to my point total. Still, I felt that I was in a good position to put Angela in a good position, if you catch my proverbial drift. So I was quite startled when Angela said, “Wanna put another 50 whacks on the outcome?”
“Sure,” I replied, and then added, flippantly, “and the loser gets to be the winner’s slave for the rest of the night.”
And so it was decided. A serious spanking for the loser, followed by submission to the winner for the remainder of the evening. I began to imagine how much fun I was going to have.
Oh, but if dreams could truly become reality.
By now, you’ve surely deduced the actual outcome. I would not be giving Angela a spanking. I would not be giving her orders. I would not be celebrating my gin-playing superiority.
To put it mildly, she kicked my ass.
I did not win a hand the rest of the way. It wasn’t even close. I barely had a chance to play any cards. If I would have forfeited, I probably could have saved some shred of dignity. Instead, I was quickly and completely finished off. At the end, I just sat there in a stunned state. I, the Gin master, had lost to a mere novice, a raw rookie. I felt so embarrassed, no pun intended.
Upon winning the final hand, Angela gave me an evil grin. I could tell that she had some nasty plans for me. I began to think that this wagering business was a rather poor idea, let alone the frequent raising of the stakes. I also started to smell a rat.
Angela took me over her lovely lap and delivered the first fifty swats with little mercy. She went slowly so as not to tax me too much, although in my opinion she really did this to draw my punishment out as long as possible. I behaved myself as much as possible and took the spanking with little protest, but I must admit she did a thorough job and I could not remain completely quiet or completely still.
When she stopped, she let me get up and inspect the damage. I put my hands back and felt the fire on my butt. When I glanced back at my nates, they were as red as I’d ever seen them. Even though I rubbed them, I could not get the sting to go completely away. Indeed, I was impressed with Angela’s spanking technique.
For the next phase, Angela decided that I should get completely naked and lay down on the table. I did so with a combination of excitement and trepidation. My butt was into long-spanking-mode, but this position with an implement was something new to us and I was concerned that it would substantially turn up the heat.
As I placed my bare ass on the table, pointing to the ceiling, the odor of rodent continued to be somewhat prevalent. So I asked Angela, “How did you manage to beat me so easily at the end when the game was on the line?”
“Easy,” she replied. “You always threw away face cards, always saved aces and deuces, always played runs rather than trips, and never knocked unless you figured you couldn’t get gin.”
Of course. Seeing as she was a player of little experience, I played a little too aggressively. Except, how did she know to look for those things if she didn’t play the game? I posed this question to my love.
To put it succinctly, I had been had. As it turned out, Angela was, in truth, not a novice to the game of gin. In fact, she was quite experienced. She, too, had a grandparent who taught her the game, and had taught her well. She had even participated in a number of tournaments with considerable success.
Had Angela cheated? Had she subject me to unfair deception? Was the spanking that I was in the midst of unjustly earned?
The answers to those questions are much too philosophical to be adequately dealt with in a story of this nature. Suffice to say, for being deceived so easily, I honestly felt that I deserved every whack. Besides, I am a spanko. Any excuse for a spanking is fine with me. In addition, since I now knew that she was more of a gin expert rather than a gin beginner, my ego had been rescued from the commode.
Nonetheless, I had lost the bet, and so I took the remainder of my spanking with stoicism. I also proceeded to perform every task that she requested with my complaint at all. Since I was naked and she was headed that way, her demands were things that I had intended to satisfy anyway. And, to be fair, she let me spank her for being so sneaky.
What did I learn from the experience? For one thing, never make a bet with my darling Angela, unless, of course, I had my own deception planned. We also learned that we both could take more of a spanking than we had exchanged previously. Finally, we learned that losing a card game or a bet to each other could not affect the depth of our relationship. That evening, we discovered two things. The first was that we truly were in love with spanking. The second was that we were truly in love with other.
It was a fantastic discovery.
The hand I was dealt was a poor one, so I lost the hand and, thus, the game. It was now time for Angela to spank me. I draped myself over her lap and took my medicine. We decided to continue in this fashion, with the loser getting the hairbrush on their bare bottom. It seemed like a quite pleasant way to spend an evening.
In the next game, the cards I was getting seemed to be pretty difficult to work with, and yet I was getting satisfactory results, which I, naturally, attributed to my Gin-playing talent. I won the game which, gave me the opportunity to paddle my love’s backside. Rather than being disappointed, Angela seemed rather pleased at this result. I assumed this was because of her natural spanking tendencies.
Not wanting to spoil the fun by pushing past Angela’s limits, I “carefully” paddled Angela’s bare butt as she laid over my lap. I say “carefully,” because, after all, she the hairbrush was her idea, and she did lose, so I made sure that the spanking was nicely painful, yet I carefully monitored Angela’s reactions to make sure that the evening had not moved beyond fun. I settled for about a dozed-and-a-half swats, which left her buns nicely red and warm. When Angela got up, she hopped around sweetly and vigorously rubbed her butt, but she was smiling.
Now let us jump ahead to later in the evening. The competition was fierce, and the luck swayed Angela’s way as she prevailed in the next two games. I took my punishment with a proper amount of humility, but of course I enjoyed each and every swat. I didn’t wish to seem like I was a, I suppose the term is, pain slut, but I desiring to continue playing so that we could continue spanking.
With the game count at three apiece, and the hour growing late, we decided that the next game would be the rubber match. I suggested that we play the game in the “Hollywood” style, which involves three “streets” of scores. The first hand won by a player scores in the first street, the second scores in streets one and two, and the third win scoring in all three streets. To win a street, one gets to the set amount of points in the street. Whomever wins at least two streets wins the game.
To make the game more interesting, we decided that we would place stakes on all three streets. The loser of a street received 25 swats with the hairbrush. The winner of the game would be allowed to deliver an additional 25 swats. So there were 100 whacks on the line. We also decided to hand out all spankings after the entire game had ended.
Again, the battle was ferocious. Hands were well fought, and each street was extremely close. Angela won the first street, but I put together a serious of brilliant plays and won out in second street. By coincidence, we both had the same score on third street, so we were again totally and completely tied. I decided that it was my turn to up the stakes.
“What do you say that we put an extra twenty-five swats on the outcome of this street?” I asked. “That way, whoever wins will get an even hundred.” Angela quickly agreed, perhaps a little two quickly. Right there I should have known that something was up.
I won the next hand, but only added a small amount to my point total. Still, I felt that I was in a good position to put Angela in a good position, if you catch my proverbial drift. So I was quite startled when Angela said, “Wanna put another 50 whacks on the outcome?”
“Sure,” I replied, and then added, flippantly, “and the loser gets to be the winner’s slave for the rest of the night.”
And so it was decided. A serious spanking for the loser, followed by submission to the winner for the remainder of the evening. I began to imagine how much fun I was going to have.
Oh, but if dreams could truly become reality.
By now, you’ve surely deduced the actual outcome. I would not be giving Angela a spanking. I would not be giving her orders. I would not be celebrating my gin-playing superiority.
To put it mildly, she kicked my ass.
I did not win a hand the rest of the way. It wasn’t even close. I barely had a chance to play any cards. If I would have forfeited, I probably could have saved some shred of dignity. Instead, I was quickly and completely finished off. At the end, I just sat there in a stunned state. I, the Gin master, had lost to a mere novice, a raw rookie. I felt so embarrassed, no pun intended.
Upon winning the final hand, Angela gave me an evil grin. I could tell that she had some nasty plans for me. I began to think that this wagering business was a rather poor idea, let alone the frequent raising of the stakes. I also started to smell a rat.
Angela took me over her lovely lap and delivered the first fifty swats with little mercy. She went slowly so as not to tax me too much, although in my opinion she really did this to draw my punishment out as long as possible. I behaved myself as much as possible and took the spanking with little protest, but I must admit she did a thorough job and I could not remain completely quiet or completely still.
When she stopped, she let me get up and inspect the damage. I put my hands back and felt the fire on my butt. When I glanced back at my nates, they were as red as I’d ever seen them. Even though I rubbed them, I could not get the sting to go completely away. Indeed, I was impressed with Angela’s spanking technique.
For the next phase, Angela decided that I should get completely naked and lay down on the table. I did so with a combination of excitement and trepidation. My butt was into long-spanking-mode, but this position with an implement was something new to us and I was concerned that it would substantially turn up the heat.
As I placed my bare ass on the table, pointing to the ceiling, the odor of rodent continued to be somewhat prevalent. So I asked Angela, “How did you manage to beat me so easily at the end when the game was on the line?”
“Easy,” she replied. “You always threw away face cards, always saved aces and deuces, always played runs rather than trips, and never knocked unless you figured you couldn’t get gin.”
Of course. Seeing as she was a player of little experience, I played a little too aggressively. Except, how did she know to look for those things if she didn’t play the game? I posed this question to my love.
To put it succinctly, I had been had. As it turned out, Angela was, in truth, not a novice to the game of gin. In fact, she was quite experienced. She, too, had a grandparent who taught her the game, and had taught her well. She had even participated in a number of tournaments with considerable success.
Had Angela cheated? Had she subject me to unfair deception? Was the spanking that I was in the midst of unjustly earned?
The answers to those questions are much too philosophical to be adequately dealt with in a story of this nature. Suffice to say, for being deceived so easily, I honestly felt that I deserved every whack. Besides, I am a spanko. Any excuse for a spanking is fine with me. In addition, since I now knew that she was more of a gin expert rather than a gin beginner, my ego had been rescued from the commode.
Nonetheless, I had lost the bet, and so I took the remainder of my spanking with stoicism. I also proceeded to perform every task that she requested with my complaint at all. Since I was naked and she was headed that way, her demands were things that I had intended to satisfy anyway. And, to be fair, she let me spank her for being so sneaky.
What did I learn from the experience? For one thing, never make a bet with my darling Angela, unless, of course, I had my own deception planned. We also learned that we both could take more of a spanking than we had exchanged previously. Finally, we learned that losing a card game or a bet to each other could not affect the depth of our relationship. That evening, we discovered two things. The first was that we truly were in love with spanking. The second was that we were truly in love with other.
It was a fantastic discovery.
Friday, December 01, 2006
An Apology
Last night, around 2 am, I awoke with a start. I realized that I had neglected to indicate that my post from a day earlier was missing a vital detail. It seems that I had forgotten to point out that my little musing was only the first part of the story.
Not wanting to mislead my loyal and trusting readers, I immediately arose and headed for the computer to correct my error. As I was reaching for my robe, my darling wife groggily asked, "Where are you going?"
"I just need to fix something on my blog," I whispered.
"I didn't know you have a blog," she responded. "I hope you don't talk about our spankings in it."
Um.
"No, it's for work. It's computer stuff."
"Mmm. What's it called? Maybe I can read it."
Umm squared.
"No, it's ... uh ... just what we're using to keep track of this project that I'm working on."
"Oh, okay. Don't stay up too long." Angela proceeded to roll over and return to slumber.
Somehow, I find it ironic that she would believe drag my sorry ass out of bed for work, but not for spanking.
Or does she?
In any event, I apologize for not mentioning that yesterday's story would be continued. Rest assured, I am, as I write this, putting the finishing the the story's conclusion, which I will regale you with very soon.
Not wanting to mislead my loyal and trusting readers, I immediately arose and headed for the computer to correct my error. As I was reaching for my robe, my darling wife groggily asked, "Where are you going?"
"I just need to fix something on my blog," I whispered.
"I didn't know you have a blog," she responded. "I hope you don't talk about our spankings in it."
Um.
"No, it's for work. It's computer stuff."
"Mmm. What's it called? Maybe I can read it."
Umm squared.
"No, it's ... uh ... just what we're using to keep track of this project that I'm working on."
"Oh, okay. Don't stay up too long." Angela proceeded to roll over and return to slumber.
Somehow, I find it ironic that she would believe drag my sorry ass out of bed for work, but not for spanking.
Or does she?
In any event, I apologize for not mentioning that yesterday's story would be continued. Rest assured, I am, as I write this, putting the finishing the the story's conclusion, which I will regale you with very soon.
