Sunday, January 28, 2007
During my time reviewing the many fabulous spanking blogs out there in the information superhighway I’ve found that there seems to be a practice of, when someone cannot think of anything original to write about, to take part in what has been termed a “meme.” Being a relatively unenlightened imaginary spanko, I was not quite sure what a meme was. So, being college educated and a professional, I looked up the term in the dictionary.
I brought up “The Imaginary Spanko Dictionary dot com” on my computer. It defined “meme” as “term uttered by a child when asked if he or she wishes something, such as ‘Who want’s ice cream? Asked the nice lady … MEME I shouted.’” I now understand why the Imaginary Spanko Dictionary is not in great demand.
So then I tried something more real … the American Heritage Dictionary. It defined “meme” as “a cultural item that is transmitted by repetition in a manner analogous to the biological transmission of genes.” I have no fucking idea what that means. Perhaps the Imaginary Spanko Dictionary wasn’t so bad after all.
In any event, since I seem to be lacking the creativity to come up with a short, original entry, and feeling entirely too lazy to put together a longer story, I’ve decided to co-opt one of these memes that I’ve come across. This one is entitled “Five Things That No One Knows About Me.” Being an imaginary spanko, there are probably quite a few things that are not known about me. And so….
1. I have been spanked in Paris. I have been spanked in a Hilton.
But I have never been spanked by Paris Hilton.
2. When I was in 4th grade, I wasn’t feeling well in school. I told the teacher
that I was sick and wanted to go home. She told me that I didn’t look sick and that I was faking. I said that if she didn’t believe me I’d puke on her. She got mad and grabbed my arm, dragging me into the hallway, at which point I proceed to empty the contents of my stomach all over her dress.
3. While in my early twenties, I tried to get a somewhat older (around 40 or so) woman spank me. I was at one of those somewhat upscale department stores, buying clothes, and she was waiting on me. She told me that I was being unnecessarily rude to her (I didn’t think that I was but who knows). So I told her that if I was so rude, why didn’t she just spank me. She opted against acting on my suggestion, much to my disappointment.
4. While not a member of the mile high club, I did once have sex with Angela in an airport. We were on an extended layover, and we found a deserted restroom at one of the restaurants and proceed to put the time to good use. We did have to pause a few times as other patrons would occasionally come in.
5. After making some modifications to it, I once tried to spank myself using a weed-whacker with the nylon string. Bad idea. You can still see some faint scars on my backside from that debacle.
Since I am an imaginary spanko, and since the above are, obviously made up by the writer of this work, I have a challenge for my talented readers. Send me some other things about me that are not commonly known. Feel free to make them up. Perhaps I will use your contribution in a future entry, especially if they are fantastic.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Consequences, Dramatic Conclusion
This time she did not paddle as fast, and did not concentrate on one spot. She was, though, applying the utensil with increased intensity. Soon, the fire on the outside of my ass was equal to the fire on the inside.
When she again stopped, I exhaled in relief, as I assumed that the spanking had concluded. However, I was wrong. Angela told me to again stay still, and she got up to retrieve more torture devices. When she returned, she came around to face me. She was holding two of those little black clips that, if you work in an office, you probably recognize as what might be used to hold together a sheaf of paper too large for a standard paper clip. When attached to one’s nipples, they are excruciating.
Whatever substance she had used on the plug had a long-lasting effect. That, coupled with the clips biting into my nipples had me in substantial discomfort. Satisfied, Angela returned to her seat and once again resumed applying the pain to my ass. This she did with considerable potency. She worked over the entire surface of my butt, paying special attention to the areas on the perimeter that had not been spanked much in the first two rounds. I gritted my teeth, grabbed the chair cushion tightly, closed my eyes, and endured the pain as best I could.
At last, Angela decided that I had had enough. She stopped, set aside the spoon, and walked around to face me. She taunted my a bit, telling me that I had better learn how to either play cards better or not bet so much. The fact that I had spent more money on food and booze was apparently of no importance to her. She reached out to remove the nipple clips, which in itself is a painful event, but first she had to flick them and pull them a little, just to extend her fun. She then unclipped them, and I let out a little squeak before I felt some relief. That just left my burning asshole.
She scolded some more, and the intense burning kept tormenting me. When she informed me that it was time to remove the plug, she first went to the kitchen and returned with a wet rag. She slowly and gently pulled out the plug, which did little to ease the burning. Angela then used the rag to wipe the substance away. The cold water on the rag felt sooooooo good as it began to quench the flames. While she was soothing my fire, she mentioned to me that, so that the muscle-rub substance would have increased effectiveness, she had sprinkled in a little bit if cayenne pepper. I resolved to remove that particular spice from the guest house at my earliest convenience.
Fortunately for me, my lovely wife is not a total meanie. After allowing me to rise from my vulnerable position, she sat me down and used her fingers and her tongue to sooth my nipples, and gently caressed my genital region. As I started to relax and allow that area to react, she stopped and told me that the remainder of the fun would have to wait until bedtime. I shall have to retire early tonight, I thought to myself.
I have now begun planning my revenge after our next game, in which I shall inevitably come away with an increase in fundage. The cayenne pepper was a clever touch, and will take some thought to top. While I mull, I will continue to relish the remnants of Sunday’s fun. With a wife like Angela, I can never consider myself a loser. And that, my friends, feels fantastic.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Consequences, Part One
If you are confused, please allow me to explain. Six of my friends, some of whom I have known since high school or college, gathered at my abode last Friday to enjoy an evening of good food, good drink, and good times whilst playing poker. We partook in a couple of bottles of excellent wine, 8 or 9 bottles of a very fine, refreshing brew, and night caps of drambouie. I made hor d’oerves of crab, turkey sausage, and several kinds of cheese. And we ordered pizza. The stakes in the game were not high, as we play for nickels, dimes, and quarters. Sometimes one wins a few bucks, sometimes one loses.
Suffice to say, I lost. Badly. Despite winning the last pot of the evening, which was considerable, I donated about $25 to the good fortunes of my friends. Needless to say, Angela was not pleased.
No, that is a lie. When I lose, she gets to spank me. Therefore, she was pleased. Very pleased indeed.
On Sunday morning, after breakfast, I usually retire to the guest house, ostensibly to work on one of my woodworking projects but in reality to read the newspaper and take a nap in peace. So, when Angela came strolling in, smiling, in the middle of the sports section, I knew that it was time.
Angela had me remove my trousers and under-trousers and lay over the back of an arm chair. She had brought with her a finely-crafted wooden spoon, smooth and heavy, that we had obtained at a touristy-type store at a one of those quaint Midwestern ethnic towns. As a cooking utensil, it was truly not very useful. As a spanking utensil, however, it stung like a mother-fucker. Actually, I do not believe that we have ever used it as a cooking utensil.
Angela pulled up a chair and took a seat facing my exposed rear end. Then she began to vigorously toast my buns (sorry, but it was still just after breakfast). She would concentrate 5 or 10 swats on one small spot on my poor butt, then move on to a different spot. I started to wiggle and writhe as she applied the heat. Each spot that she worked on felt like she had left a red-hot brand on my flesh. After about 200 sizzling whacks, she stopped.
She told me not to move and got up from her chair. I dangled there, feeling the sting ease from my arse, replaced by considerable warmth. When she returned, I glanced back and noticed that she was carrying a device commonly known as the butt plug. It was clearly glistening with lubricant, and thus was ready to, well, plug my butt. I felt Angela spread my cheeks and press the device in. She informed me that this would “help increase the heat,” which I thought was a curious statement.
Here ends the first part. Tune in tomorrow for the dramatic conclusion, where we find out just how Angela increases the heat.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Diamonds In The House
While Angela does not actually play cards, she does have a stake in the game, although not a specific financial stake. To be more specific, she has her ass on the line. Really. You see, if I come away from the game with a monetary gain, I get to paddle my dear wife’s cute butt. It is a standing bet that we have. The only downside to the deal is in the extremely unlikely event that I should lose money. In that case, it is my butt that is on the receiving end of the paddle.
So, after I come away from the game with the usual plentiful winnings, I shall spend said winnings on my darling wife, wining and dining her, perhaps seeing a movie or listening to some live music. Then we shall return to the homestead and slip into the guest house, where I shall make her take off her pants, and the rest of her clothes for good measure, bend her over with her hands on an ottoman, pick up my nice, shiny oak paddle, and turn her bottom a nice, bright shade of crimson. It will be a fantastic evening.
Perhaps, on another occasion, I’ll discuss what occurs on the odd occasion where I come away from the game with less money than when I started.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Just Another Quiet Spanko Day
Afterwards, we took Maribel out for a late lunch. We talked about the game in great detail, basically reliving each time Maribel touched the ball. I am quite proud of Maribel’s basketball prowess, as I’m sure you may have surmised. She is everything that I always wanted to be in basketball. In other words, she excels. I was always a decent player, but never good enough to make a school team. Even though it is a small school, Maribel stands out, which pleases dear old Dad.
After the drive back, Angela threw together a spot of dinner. Angela makes the best fifteen-minute meals in the entire world, real or imaginary. An hour or so ago, Bernie took her leave. Angela settled in to watch a bit of television, Colette was ensconced in her bedroom with a book, and I headed to my office to see if I could find anything of interest on the internet.
I must confess to you, my loyal readers, that by “of interest,” I mean “dirty.” One of my great weaknesses is watching video snippets of pretty people engage in either a nice spanking or your basic naked sexual activity. Yes, my friends, occasionally this imaginary spankos likes to view a little porno. Being, as my best friend has referred to me a few times, a “cheap-ass bastard,” I refuse to pay for such pleasures. One of the challenges is to find some fine material that is free. I don’t like to brag, but with patience and persistence, I have managed to acquire quite a collection.
Perhaps my guiltiest pleasure is so-called “amateur porn.” With the availability and ease of use of inexpensive and easy-to-use video recording devices for personal computers, it is truly amazing the how often people will record themselves engaging in sexual intercourse. Quite often, with or without their permission, these recordings find their way onto the internet at large. With a little digging, one can find a few of these.
One of the ways that these video vignettes will try to get noticed is by their title. These files will be named in such a way as to give the reader a brief description of what might be contained within. Or at least what the purveyor of said file wishes you to think what the file is showing. In other words, some of these titles aren’t exactly accurate.
Allow me to present an example. I once downloaded a file entitled “shyblondteen.wmv.” Upon screening said file, I found two attractive, naked people engaging in what two attractive people often engage in while naked. There were, however, a few slight inaccuracies in the title.
Number one, the young lady in the video was clearly in her twenties, so she was not a teen.
Secondly, she was not blond.
Third, this fine female was certainly NOT shy.
Otherwise, the title was perfectly accurate.
So, with that, my friends, I shall bid you all good night and hope that you have a perfectly fantastic weekend.
Monday, January 08, 2007
A Recalcitrant Blogger
I’ve always admired Miss Bonnie’s writing. I find it clever and funny, and even a bit thoughtful. She may have even inspired my inception. And yet, in my humble opinion, the two pieces are just a little too similar for them to be independently created. Since I had never read Bonnie’s version until she pointed it out to me, there can only be one explanation:
Bonnie stole the idea from me.
Now, I know what you are thinking. Since Bonnie’s “Might Be A Spanko” list was published more than 14 months before mine, how could she possibly have obtained the idea from yours truly? Please allow me to explain. Since I am an imaginary spanko, the space / time continuum does not apply to me. In addition, everything that is ever published to the internet is archived by the keepers of cyberspace (who is not, I should add, either Al Gore or George W. Bush). So, since Bonnie is a very clever person who knows a bit about computers, it was a simple matter for her to go into the archive, bypass the continuum, and read my blog. She then, by again bending time, went back and wrote and published her entry, thereby making it seem as if I was copying her.
Bonnie, you should be ashamed of yourself.
However, since I know that Bonnie is basically an honorable person, I shall accept her apology, which I know that she has already supplied. I know this because I, too, was able to abuse the continuum and, by myself reviewing the archive, saw her apology that she puts into her blog on July 16, 2009.
Although, in 2008, I send an email to her fine husband, Randy, explaining Bonnie’s misdeed. As a result, later that year, Randy gives Bonnie a nice, hard, long spanking.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
One Million Hits
Rather, the title of this entry was inspired by a conversation between the lovely Angela and myself Friday evening while we were engaged in some cuddling in front of the fireplace in a attempt to ward off the winter chill. And, lest you think that “cuddling” is another way of saying “bonking,” I should remind you that we live with our 14-year-old daughter, and she was home with us that evening.
The bonking came later, behind closed doors.
But I digress. Angela and I were discussing spanking in general and spanking lengths in specific (while Colette was home, she was in her bedroom, “chatting” with her friends). Eventually, Angela got to wondering how many spanks I have taken in my life. I professed that I hadn’t a clue as to what the number might be. So Angela proposed, “I wonder if it is over a million?”
Being a logically-thinking sort of person, I began to do a few mental calculations, which I later verified by using a non-mental calculator. Here is what I determined:
If a person averages one-hundred swats per day, it would take 10,000 days to accumulate one million. 10,000 days is also 1,428 weeks and four days, or 27.4 years. Since Angela and I have been known each other for something more than 25 years, and since, while she has given me a considerable number of spankings during that span, it has been far less than 100 swats per day, I have not yet received my one millionth spank. Even if you add in the number of times that I have been spanked before meeting my dear spouse, it still will fall short of one million.
Despite the shortfall, Angela has determined that she would like to organize a celebration for my one-millionth whack. Since we haven’t the slightest idea as to the actual number of swats that I have received thus far, we have decided to estimate. While the number of swats that she gives me in an average spanking can vary wildly, we’ve decided that the approximate mean would be 50. She also guesses that she gives me three to four spankings per week, although that number also differs depending on circumstances.
So, figuring that we’ve perhaps been spanking each other for 25 years and six months, with three and one-half spankings per week (that one-half is a doosy, let me tell you), and 50 whacks per spanking, I have so far received just over 465,000 swats. That would mean, using the same figures and projecting into the future, I will receive my one-millionth spank on April 9th, 2036.
I, or rather my butt, can hardly wait for that fantastic date.
Friday, January 05, 2007
With Apologies To Jeff Foxworthy
If, however, you are not sure what your feelings are towards the fine art of spanking, I hope this little missive will be helpful in sorting them out. Simply continue reading as I describe some typically spanko reactions to otherwise bland thoughts and occurrences. If you find yourself answering “yes” to 2 or more of the following questions, then, my friend…….
You Might Be A Spanko
1. When you go to the drug store or department store, do you always make sure that you look at the hair brushes to see if there are any that might be good for spanking?
2. When you see an attractive person walk by do you glance at their butt and think, “I’d really like to spank that butt?” (If you have submissive tendencies, your thought may be, “Boy, I’d really like that person to take me over their knee.”)
3. Do you always look at the bath brushes when you visit a bath and linens store to see which ones would be best for spanking?
4. Do you prefer cutting boards that are paddle-shaped?
5. Do you check the TV listings to see if a gawd-awful movie like “Tank” is showing just so that you can see the spanking scene?
6. Does a phrase like “It was hard work paddling upstream in a canoe” make you tingle?
7 Even though you think that corporal punishment in our public education system is inappropriate, do you wish that you had been paddled or caned more often in high school?
8. Do you wish that you had joined a fraternity or sorority in college so that you could have experienced an initiation paddling?
9. Does the thought of spanking children cause you much concern but spanking adults seem perfectly sensible?
10 Whenever you see anyone bending over, do you have to restrain yourself from giving them a swat on their backside?
11 Are your favorite kitchen utensils the spatulas and wooden spoons?
12 Do you own a grill brush that has never been used on a grill?
13. Does the term “striking woman” make you think not of a highly attractive lady but one who is spanking you?
14. Even though you probably never wanted your parents to spank you, does the thought of being spanked by the lady next door turn you on?
15. Do you read blogs like this one frequently?
While certainly not scientific, dear reader, the more you answered in the affirmative to the above, the more likely that you are to be a tried-and-true spanko. But, of course, you probably already know that, unless you found your way to my little piece of the internet by accident. However, if, before reading this, you were not sure about your inclinations, by now I’m sure that you’ve determined what so many others, like myself, have discovered:
It is fantastic being a spanko.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Auld Lang Spanko
I’d like to be, but I’m sure that, by now, some one else has already welcomed you to the new year. If not, then allow me to be the first.
As you can see, my head is still somewhat a-spin from the New Year’s Eve goings on at the Spanko residence. You see, my darling wife and I allowed our youngest daughter, Colette, to invite some of her friends over for a small get-together.
When Colette first proposed the idea, neither Angela nor I thought that it would be much of an event. We didn’t expect a party, per se, but perhaps more of a “sleep over.” However, Colette informed us that she was too old for a “sleep over,” and intended to have a more mature gathering. This seemed reasonable, so Angela and I easily assented.
Except for the fact that Colette was in quite the tizzy for most of the week prior to the gathering, the preparations were uneventful. Colette, Angela, and I prepared a number of delectable munchies (yes, ladies, Frank likes to cook, mainly because Frank likes to eat) for consumption by the attendees. Colette did a great deal of the work, so Angela and I agreed to allow her to play the gracious host while we would act as servers (which, conveniently, allowed us supervise as well). I showed Colette how to tie her iPod device into the audio system in the living room, so she was able to easily prepare the musical playlist for the evening. Colette flitted and fretted, but Angela and I assured her that everything would work out just fine.
Maribel’s basketball team had a game Saturday which I attended, and then, since she was given a couple of days off for the holiday, she and her boyfriend came with me back to the homestead. Maribel told me that she, the boyfriend, and another couple were going out for a nice dinner but weren’t planning anything raucous. On the morning of New Year’s Eve, I heard Maribel ask Angela, “Mom, can we (meaning her and the boyfriend) use the guest house tonight when we get back since Colette is having a party here?”
The one disadvantage of having a house full of teenagers on New Years Eve is that it makes it impossible for Angela and I to engage in something of a New Years tradition, namely the ever-popular New Year’s spanking. Although this was not a major obstacle since we would probably be able to find time for some fun the next day, I was still mildly disappointed. When I heard Maribel’s request, my evil mind came up with a remedy
I knew that Angela would have no objection to Maribel’s request, so I moved quickly. “Ahem, young lady. In exchange for your use of the guest house, I have a little proposal.” Maribel looked at me with some trepidation. “Since your mom and I will be chaperoning Colette’s party for the evening, which I’m sure will be a late one, we could use a little respite at some point. Perhaps, when you return from the restaurant, you could stand in for us for an hour or so. In exchange, you can use the guest house for the rest of the night.”
“Where will you and Mom be?” Maribel asked.
“Quietly celebrating New Years. Alone.” Although, in truth, I didn’t think that we’d be very quiet.
Maribel looked questioningly at Angela. Angela responded by winking at Maribel, one of those I-know-what-you’re-planning-and-we-are-too winks. Maribel’s quizzical look lasted a moment longer, and then realization hit her. She was more than agreeable.
We Spankos’ are no fools. You see, I strongly suspected that Maribel had planned on a little New Year’s spanking activity of her own with her young man, and perhaps some other naked activities as well. I know this because I know that Maribel is a spanko, and because I had the same plans for Angela and myself. I correctly assumed that Maribel would gladly accept an hour of madness for a night of peace, alone with her boyfriend. I’m such a terrible father.
The party went on with almost nary a hitch. Colette only had one tantrum, and that was a small one regarding the proper placement of the Hors D'ouvres to the desserts, and none of her friends were near. We were able to quell it before it reached the screech level. Maribel arrived at the prescribed time, still looking smashing in her dinner outfit. She and the boyfriend spelled us, and Angela and I retired to the guest house. I took her over my knee and gave her a fabulous working-over with a hairbrush, and then put her over the back of a chair and put my belt to good use. When I was finished, Angela’s bottom was a spectacular shade of fuscia, and she looked much less stressed. When we changed positions, Angela used the ping pong paddle, and both small and large wooden paddles* to give me the most exquisite pain in my posterior.
After an hour or so, we returned to the party and said our good-nights to Maribel and the boyfriend, and resumed our posts as chaperone-servants. At midnight, we celebrated the falling of the ball with chilled sparkling apple juice and raspberry spumante. Surprisingly, Maribel and her friend joined us. Maribel has a very content look on her face, which made Mom proud and Daddy shudder. The party broke up shortly after that, with Colette exchanging hugs with all of her friends. For those who weren’t being picked up by their parents or staying at our place for the night, we insisted that their parents call us when they arrived safely back at their own homes. We told Colette that it was because it is dangerous driving on New Year’s Eve, but it was also because we wanted to make sure they went home and not somewhere less proper.
So now it’s a 2007. 2006 had it’s share of accomplishments and disappointments, but it went out on a fine note. I shall look back upon it fondly. For me, the best thing about 2006 was the fact that I have been able to come out of the imaginary closet and share my stories with you. You might say that I was born again. Or, you might say that I was born. I’ve received many kind words from so many of you. Some of you have even devoted some of the precious space on your blog to recommend me to your esteemed readers. I am thankful and humbled by all of your benevolence.
My wish for you is that your 2007 be filled with fantastic spankings!
* - implements suggested by Arnold … er … Chris … er … Dave.