March 04, 2010

A Change of Attitude

Attitude is justified on some days. I don't really care if you don't agree. When shit happens that you don't have any control over, you should be allowed to let the frustration show. What is wrong with getting pissed off when nothing and I do mean ABSOLUTELY nothing, goes right? Some days life just sucks you know?

So yeah, I lost my job. No, I did not do anything to make it happen. I worked when I was supposed to work. Then I show up and the boss calls a meeting and hands out final paychecks to everyone. He has the nerve to tell us he's sorry and then go on to tell us we failed, maybe we did our best, but it wasn't good enough and he's lost everything because he gambled on us. I got one word for him, although my brother thinks I'm being unfair. LOSER!

Tell me how is it I failed? I took messages, greeted peeps at the door, made fresh coffee and generally did whatever was asked of me. But, I failed. I mean never mind that nothing I did was going to bring a single dollar into the company's account. Never mind that he spent more days playing golf, or maybe that was just playing with himself, than I worked. Never mind that everyone was always waiting on him. Never mind that he chose to blame me to his clients that dared complain about his slow response times. Never mind, obviously it was totally, utterly anyone and everyone else who dared to show up and try. Whatever.

Anyway enough about the LOSER and how he wrecked things.

It's just when things take a turn for the worse you have a right to complain a little, mope around a bit, act like a complete and utter bitch. The Constitution protect these right doesn't it? Apparently those rights only exist outside my parents home and ever then people don't have to be tolerant. It's just not fair.

Can you believe my dad actually said, "I'm sick of you moping around the house and if you don't straighten up by tomorrow morning I'll give you a real reason to mope."

Like I can turn my mood on and off like a light switch. As if! I wish it worked that way. Wouldn't life be great if we could just wake up every day and decide what we wanted to feel? It's March 4th I want to feel LUCKY today! And my dad says I don't deal with reality. LOL

Needless to say I didn't make it to breakfast the next morning. It wasn't my fault, but nobody cares where blame actually belongs these days. My nephew, the little shit I have to live with because my big brother can't manage to live on his own, decided to take an extra long shower and used up all the hot water. I didn't know. I just went in to take a shower.

You'd think ice cold water hitting your naked body would be enough to justify a little screaming. I certainly had a legitimate right to be upset, but apparently my attitude problem is why I chose to be upset. My attitude problem is also why I chose to yell at my nephew about wasting water and using up all the hot water and not even having the common decency to tell me before I was committed to showering. Obviously my attitude needed correction. I mean who would yell at kid for things like that? It's just not right, not fair and totally uncalled for, right? If you could hear me growling....

I'm sure my nephew felt much better after dad stripped my towel away and made me touch my toes. He probably healed from all my scathing words as dad striped my bare ass with his belt. I'm certain he felt justice was served while I stood in the corner, bare, spanked butt on display, while he and everyone else enjoyed their breakfast. I'm sure I'll learn my lesson by next Wednesday because dad says we'll do it all over again everyday between now and then.

Wow! See it must be working because look at that positive attitude I've suddenly developed.

January 08, 2010


So what's it mean?

In general I think you can describe it as a punishment focused on restricting freedom as a consequence for bad behavior. Sort of like a house arrest only the government isn't usually involved. The details seem to be a little more varying and specific within a family unit.

For Example:

My friend, Teri, she gets grounded as a consequence for most things she does wrong. The duration is anything from two days to a month. Essentially, for that period of time, she can't use her phone and can't leave her bedroom for anything other than bathroom, meals, and school. Although restrictive in physical location, it's certainly not as bad as it could be. She does still have a computer, tv, ipod, books, and pretty much anything else you might want to do to entertain yourself while stuck in your bedroom. Needless to say, I don't have much sympathy for Teri when she's grounded cause life still isn't all that bad for her.

Another friend, Lisa, winds up grounded much less often because her father favors long lectures for most things. When she does push the limits a bit too far, she gets grounded for either 1 week or 2 weeks depending on how mad she made her father. In her case, being grounded consists of having her phone, tv, and computer taken away, confined to the house with the exception of school, and having to do extra chores. The chores consist of annoying work like: polishing shoes, mirrors, or faucets; scrubbing floors, bathroom tile grout, or kitchen appliances; cleaning windows, walls, doors, or cars; and a few other laborious jobs only her father can imagine. I think that's a bit worse than Teri's situation but still not really that awful, it's only a week or two.

Then there's Amber, her parents are pretty strict. She wasn't even allowed to date until she was 16 and could not drive until she was 18. When she gets grounded, which isn't often because she actually doesn't get into much trouble if you can imagine, it's always exactly 30 days. Her parents take her bedroom door away and her room is stripped of everything non-essential. I mean they even take her lipstick away, now that's cruel. She can't go anywhere except school and her mother takes her and picks her up. Her parents keep her on a strict schedule controlling her every waking moment and she isn't allowed to talk unless she is answering a question asked of her. I personally think of all the people I know, she has it the worst. I feel bad for her when she gets grounded because I think I would go mad if I had to follow those kinds of rules for a whole month, but she manages it and never complains at all.

And last, but definitely not least, is me. That's right me. I get grounded from time to time as well when my parents feel my behavior warrants something a little longer lasting than a single spanking. For me it can vary a bit as to exactly what "privileges" are taken away, which means I never know until it happens whether I'll be able to watch TV, use the internet, leave my bedroom, etcetera. The constants are: It's never less than a week, it's always accompanied by daily bare bottomed spankings in front of the family, It always has daily corner time usually before and after the spanking but sometimes just after, and I'm always given extra chores to do on a daily basis.

I think there are probably a lot more variables than those above on grounding and I've heard of somethings which make some of this sound like out right torture and other making it sound like a walk in the park. Personally, I'd rather just take the spanking or a series of them and forget the rest, but as I've heard many times, punishment is not about what I like or prefer.

December 16, 2009

The Wicked Witch

Okay, so I suck at keeping this thing updated. It's not like totally my fault anyway. Classes started up and I kept working at the office and time just slipped on by. I could mention I was grounded since the end of October too, but you don't want to hear about that, or do you? Okay so maybe you do.

So, it all like started cause my mom's a witch. No, no seriously, she's a witch. Black cauldron, frog legs, raven eyes, little girls' hair, steaming froth all stirred over an open flame with the handle of her broomstick while she dances around naked in the kitchen chanting evil curses on all those who dared to unfavorably cross her path. Alright, maybe not, but it sounds good and she does have a way of cursing those who cross her path.

All I did was walk out of the kitchen and go upstairs to my bedroom. Totally unfair to get grounded over that if you ask me. Okay so maybe there was a little shouting in the kitchen first, so what? Okay, okay, then there was the minor matter of me not doing my chores for the week, but I was short on time and something had to give you know?!? And yeah, storming out of the kitchen while mom was talking to me probably wasn't the best idea I ever had and slamming my bedroom door to make all the windows rattle, really wan't an intentional thing.

So maybe mom had a reason or two to be annoyed. Is that really an excuse to ground me for over a month? Well is it? Is it? Come on, I can take it. Shut up! I don't want to hear you agreeing with mom. You're supposed to see my side of the issue.

Oh I get it, you just want to know if there was any spanking involved.


I'm not saying!

No, you can't make me!

I'm not talking!

Stop asking!

Oh fine.

If you honestly think my parents would see fit to ground me without spanking my big (cute, sweet, adorable) butt then you don't know my parents. I think the windows were still rattling when mom burst through my door, big cooking spoon waving in her hand like the aforementioned witch's wand. She dragged me over to my bed, threw me on it face down, and started whacking away like my butt was a percussion instrument. The melody went something like Ooh, Oh, Ooh, Oh, Ooh, Stop, Oh, No, Please, Ooh, Don't, Oh, I'm, Ooh, Sorry, Oh.

I'm sure you get the picture.


Too bad cause I'm not showing any before, during or after pix.

Anyway, that was right through my jeans and let me tell you it still hurt like I was bare ass. Alright, I admit bare ass hurts a little more but it hurt plenty good, bad. I was like certain my butt was dotted with permanent indentations from the spoon. Rubbing was out of the question as usual but honestly it was all I wanted to do, other than say I was sorry, because I was sorry and we all know I was the one acting like a witch and not mom.

But Mom didn't care.

You probably don't either.

Bad girls get spanked and no one has any sympathy.

But what would the world be like if all the girls were always good?

Shouldn't we protect bad girls like an endangered species?

The world needs more bad girls!

Spank the good girls for politeness, smiling, doing their chores, behaving!

That'll teach them!

What do you mean it will never happen? Why the hell else would I ever want to behave?

Anyway, yeah I got spanked and that wasn't the last time either. Being grounded pretty much sucks 24/7 and getting regular spankings is just part of the package. There was of course the all embarrassing corner time episodes as well, not to mention the uncomfortable times when someone other than immediate family walked through the front door only to be rewarded with a stellar view of my well spanked, beautifully pink, red and bare backside. I bet they thought the walls were painted pink too with that glow from my face reflecting back into the room.

I guess that's all for this time. More details later on some of the specifics, which I know you don't really care about or want to read about, but will of course come by to see anyway.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

August 27, 2009

Small Mistake, Big Paddle

Those who know me are well aware I’ve had no aspirations to work, ever. So it was a real shock to everyone (including me) when I got a part time job. More accurately though, my brother got me a part time job. At first I was really excited. I mean I haven’t worked before in a way that actually gave me a check at the end of a week and that part was really cool.

The job is simple enough. I wander in off the bus at 10:15 AM and find my desk which is about 12 steps from the front door. Really, really, easy to find. That’s on purpose of course. My job is to greet those poor unfortunate souls that my boss calls clients and instruct them to wait while I inform said boss that his appointments have arrived. He prefers a quick IM to my popping my head into his office which is fine by me. Other than that seemingly useless job, I also get to answer the telephone with an obnoxious (supposedly friendly) phrase and take messages which I email to the appropriate person within the office. It’s a small group and they are rarely too busy to take a call but the office policy dictates they must call their clients back directly instead of receiving the calls. Don’t ask me why cause the only answer I’ve got goes like this, “It’s our policy.” Lame? Yes. Do I care? Not really. It is just a part time job and I’m not going to change the world or the office in my 20 hours a week.

Working has brought a lot of positive things to my life. I love the daily routine of getting up and going someplace. The work itself isn’t challenging and to be honest that part kind of sucks, but I have to admit it feels good to walk into an office where I can freely say I contribute something, even if the contribution is a little lame. I appreciate the effort my brother went to in order to get me the job and the fact he even thought of it. My boss, who is also good friends with my brother, also did quite a bit to make it all work out for me. As a result I feel like I have an obligation to both of them to do my job perfectly.

Perfection however, is not attainable. I’ve made my share of mistakes, especially the first few days. Nothing major, sending messages to the wrong person, I mean my boss was a little upset when I sent him an email saying his wife was pregnant when he isn’t even married and of course the poor guy who was waiting to hear from his wife was damn near hyperventilating by the time message made it to him, but it was all minor and quite funny too. Everyone was very understanding and after a few days I got things down pretty well. The mistakes became more and more minor and less and less often. I was feeling quite proud of myself.


All good things

Come to an end.

My boss decided that he needed to shake things up and instead of having a meeting in his office like normal he went out for one. Seems like no big deal. Boss out of the office equals party time. Right? No, no, no. We didn’t. We wouldn’t. I wouldn’t. I mean I am still grateful for the opportunity and the paycheck. It’s nice not having to beg my parents for the things I want.

The problem was he asked me to simply collect all his messages into one email and send it when he got back. Simple? Yes. Different? Definitely? Prone to mistakes? Absolutely.

You guessed it. I messed it up. I felt awful. I collected all his messages (I think there were 18) and as soon as he walked in the door, I sent them.


I mean I deleted them. It was an honest mistake. My boss was disgusted, but not angry. He tried to make me feel better, bought me a bottle of coke and told me an amusing story about a mistake he made once a long time ago when he was young fallible. (Now he’s just old and prone to falling (not really but it sounded good)).

He really made it sound alright. I still felt bad because I hadn’t wanted to let him down and maybe I’m a little too hard on myself (he said so). He actually blamed himself for the whole thing because if he’d just had me do my job as I had been doing it, at worst he might have lost a message but probably none. Instead, because he wanted to make his life slightly easier (I guess 1 email is simpler than 18) he’d made things infinitely more complicated.

Everything was fine. We mutually apologized and work went back to normal. To be honest I still felt bad about my mistake, but all I could really do was take care not to repeat it.


Just when I’d almost completely forgotten about the whole thing, it came up again.

I was over at my brother’s house for the weekend and my boss stopped by to visit (My brother not me). With me being there, it was probably unavoidable that my brother would ask how I was performing and so on. My boss was quick to compliment me for doing an excellent job and I beamed with a little pride. It was exactly what I wanted my brother to hear after everything he’d done to make the job a reality for me.

My brother was quite naturally dumbfounded to hear about the perfect angel my boss described. You can’t really blame him. I’ve never displayed such maturity in any other aspect of my life. He couldn’t resist the urge to ask more specific questions which inevitably led to my boss’s revelation of the incident above. It was told in good humor, but I couldn’t exactly hide my lingering shame at the unfortunate accident. My brother clearly caught on to that. He was shocked his friend had laughed the matter off as trivial.

My brother quickly launched into a tirade about how unacceptable my carelessness had been. Much as I might have liked to argue with him, deep down I agreed with everything he was saying. It took him a few minutes of debating the matter with my boss, but eventually even my boss found himself agreeing that it was a bigger deal than he’d previously let on. From there it was a relatively simple matter for the two of them to agree I not only deserved but needed a spanking for my carelessness.

Needless to say, I was both embarrassed and excited by the prospect of being spanked in front of my boss. I completely agreed I deserved it, but the thought of my boss seeing me spanked like a little girl was more than a little frightening. Would he still have any respect for me when it was over? I was afraid I didn’t want to find out, but the decision was no longer in my hands.

My shoes came off. My dress came off. My panties came off. My bra came off. My hands interlaced themselves on top of my head and I faced my brother and my boss with a red face. It seemed like an eternity that my brother lectured me in that pose. I keenly felt the humiliation which was only tempered by the knowledge I had earned the spanking I was soon to receive.

Finally, I was ordered to bend over and grab the sides of the coffee table. My brother lifted his intimidating paddle and gave me 18 burning licks, one for each lost message. I was crying early on and by the last swat I was sobbing. When allowed to stand I leapt into the air and jumped up and down while wringing my helpless hands in the air. You see, rubbing isn’t allowed and so all I could do was dance around to try and ease the nearly unbearable stinging in my rear. The act itself was humiliating but it was so instinctual I couldn’t help but do it.

My boss stayed for dinner. I spent the meal (and most of the evening) standing in a nearby corner. My hands were folded atop my head and my bare red butt was clearly visible for all to see. It was tremendously embarrassing (It’s meant to be) but I felt a little better despite the discomfort. In fact, by the time I went back to work, I no longer felt so guilty over my mistake. My boss hasn’t mentioned the spanking, but I have a feeling if I make a mistake again, I’ll hear about it in the (rear)end.

July 28, 2009

10 Reasons Why Summer Is Bad

  1. Bees - Not the kind of sting I'm looking for. How about you?

  2. Ants - Just like Aunts, they are rarely (if ever) welcome to visit.

  3. Flies - And that's got nothing to do with the swatters!

  4. Barbecues - Because cues are like clues. They're often missed until something other than the food is being cooked.

  5. Boredom - That's not a dominant pig, but rather the lack of interesting things to do.

  6. Time - Cause too much of anything always ends badly.

  7. Tourists - Cause the last thing a girl needs is an audience with cameras.

  8. Humidity - No, that's not humility, it's humidity. Very different things but equally uncomfortable.

  9. Heat - No, I'm not talking about my backside, but good guess.

  10. Sweat - It's not a sweet swat no matter how you say it.

July 14, 2009

On The Bus

I was sitting toward the back of the bus. Yes, I take the bus sometimes. Anyway there I was sitting there, minding my own business, actually listening to other people talk around me. You’d be amazed the kind of things people will talk about in public when they think no one is paying attention to them. But, sitting there listening, and I honed in a conversation between a pair of sisters I sort of know.

The live about two blocks away from me in a cul-de-sac. I went to elementary and high school with the older one, but haven’t really been around her since graduation. We weren’t close so I just sort of know who she is and where she lives and I think our parents know each other a little too, but that’s not really relevant. The younger one always seemed a lot nicer but that’s probably because she was always trying to fit in with the older girls, her sister’s age.

So, as you can probably imagine, I noticed they were talking about spanking. In particular a spankings they had both got fairly recently. The older one was scolding the younger girl. Not to get off topic again, but the older one is like my age and the younger one is probably 16 or 17. I don’t remember when her birthday is if I ever knew, but the point of course is they aren’t little kids. Anyway, the old one is going on and on and on and on, (and on and on and on, did I say on and on?) about how unfair this spanking was and I was trying very hard not to give any sign that I was hearing, listening, or most importantly amused by what I was hearing.

The story unfolded in a rather irregular manner but I pieced together enough that I believe I can put some chronology to the events leading up to these two poor girls getting spanked.

It all began with their father complaining one evening about getting a hundred dollar bill from the bank instead of his normal five twenties. For those who live in big cities or outside the US, hundred dollar bills can be a nightmare in a small town. Nobody ever wants to accept them because they inevitable don’t have change, to the point many stores have signs at the entrance and registers tell you they don’t accept bill larger than US $20.

Now what can such a thing have to do with these two girls getting spanked? Hold your horses, I’m getting to it!

This dinner time conversation happened on a Friday night. Come Saturday morning, guess what? That’s right, the $100 bill went miraculously missing. Now the spankings starting to make a little more since right? Yes, of course it is.


Why would both of them get spanked for it? Would they have really collaborated to steal it?

Keep reading….

Their father, rather than assuming guilt, decided to search his children’s bedrooms. It seems perfectly legit to me, but the two of them seemed utterly outraged and yet surprisingly not surprised by the event. Like a parent has no right to go through their child’s belongings in their home. I mean it is one thing if you are living on your own and mom or dad come over and start searching your stuff, but in their house, it’s kind of like an implied right. Yeah, I know not all of you will agree with me on that point, but all I got to say is consider the kinds of trouble you might get into if your child has illegal substances hidden in your house and some government agency with search warrant pays you a visit….

Back to the searching.

Their father does his search and finds the $100 in their little brother’s bedroom. He’s like 7, a lot younger than his sisters and from the conversation it’s pretty clear they don’t like him much. Words like nuisance, brat, idiot, nerd, geek, and some four letter ones better not repeated, gave me the inclination, but maybe those are just affectionate terms in their household. Far be it for me to judge.

Apparently it was well hidden underneath his mattress. Their father immediately suspects something isn’t right. His angelic little boy would not be a thief. Right? The sisters were quite outraged by the assumption their father made. What assumption is that? The assumption that one of his darling daughters was trying to set up his boy.

It seems totally unfair. What an unreasonable father! He’s unfit to parent spanking his daughters for something his son obviously did.

Hold on! The story isn’t finished yet.

The father calls the sisters into the family den for a semi-private conversation. He tells them he knows one of them took the money and put in their brother’s bedroom. He asks for a confession. None was forthcoming. They professed their innocence, but he just wouldn’t listen. He sent them to their rooms to wait for him with specific instructions. Strip below the waist, lay face down on their beds with their pillows propping their butts up into the air. He made clear his intention to spank them both until one of them confessed and then the guilt one would receive their real spanking which would be increasingly worse, the longer they waited to come clean.

It sounds cruel. What if neither is guilty? What if the boy really stole the money and now he’s getting the laugh of his little life as both his meanie sisters get spankings for something they didn’t do?

It’s still not over!

After three turns getting 10 of their father’s belt each turn, the old one confesses. She maintains to her sister, she didn’t do it, but she just couldn’t take anymore. Sadly, she ended up taking a lot more. Once confessed her father announced she was going to get the 30 he’d given her sister unfairly, plus ten more for lying when he first asked, plus a two minute spanking with her own hairbrush and then she was grounded for a month as well with an early bedtime the whole month.

Faced with the sudden reality that confessing was far from the easier way out, she recants her confession and swears the boy must have done it himself. It should come as no real shock that her father was less than receptive to her born again innocence. He threatens her with an even longer and bedtime spankings which quickly convinces her that recanting her false conviction is even less of an option.

At this point, one really feels sorry for her. Obviously her father is cruel and uninterested in the truth, right?

Not so fast…

The real punishment begins and she starts to wail and sob and cry. The whole house can hear her getting her tail whipped and begging for mercy like one might expect out of a little girl rather than the college student she is supposed to be. The younger sister then starts to feel bad. At first I couldn’t figure why she would feel bad. Elation would seem more appropriate since she wasn’t still getting spanked herself and would undoubtedly have considerable leeway in coming weeks having been falsely punished.

However, the younger sister just couldn’t bear to listen to the cries of her big sister. She burst into the bedroom and interrupts the whole thing. Their father was startled and almost angry at the intrusion, but then the younger sister blurts out an entire confession. Turns out she was indeed behind the theft and trying to setup her baby brother all along.

Yes, that’s right not only did she confess to their father, but there on the bus she admits to her sister that it was indeed her doing with the intention of landing their snot nosed brother in some trouble for a change. Apparently he’s too well behaved for his own good so a naughty teenager felt the need to sully his reputation. Only problem was their father had it figured from the moment he found the bill. Apparently he did know his children quite well.

What about him believing the wrong one when she falsely confessed? Doesn’t that mean he was wrong too?

Well good questions, but as I listened the older sister admitted to the younger one, “I wish I had thought of it myself. But I would have hid it better, cause the under the bed thing is what tipped Dad off from the start. If you’d put it in his socks or even his wallet, then Dad just might have believed it.”

The sisters laughed at this and then the younger one says, “We’ll get him next time.”

Now what I’m wondering is what do you all think about the way their father handled things?

Was he wrong to assume his daughters were responsible? He was right but couldn’t he have been wrong and he’d been wrong wouldn’t this all have been horribly unfair?

I don’t know if I totally agree with his methods, but I have to say, from what I heard out the sisters, I don’t have much sympathy for them either.

June 19, 2009

Back To My Blog

I know, I know, I’ve been away too long. The final few weeks of school were very time consuming and then other things got in the way too. Finally, I’m back at it though.

Last time I asked a question and I figure I owe you an answer to my viewpoint. Let me begin by thanking those who did post their thoughts. It’s really nice to not be talking to myself. Now to the question of whether spankings can be completely platonic or must have a sexual overtone;

It’s not simple by any means but I have to say I feel spankings can be totally platonic. The sexual side is something inserted by people who have certain feelings about spanking. I think a lot of people have some sexual energy that revolves around the spanking relationship because of its inherent properties of dominance and submission. This is why spanking is probably the most common sexually related game between adults. Still, the emotions between a parent spanking a child and those between a husband spanking a wife are not necessarily sexually driven. In the case where spanking is used to correct bad behavior I think the spanking can be utterly platonic without even the hint of sexual domination or submission being present. The key word here being “can” as I do believe that in some relationships the act of spanking is always sexually related.

My parents took off for Paris a few days ago which means I’m stuck at my oldest brother’s house. They’ll be gone for about a month and my other brother took his son on a vacation as well. I could have gone with but I didn’t feel like it. Hanging out with nothing to do and nowhere to go was just a lot more appealing to me. Seriously, I don’t know why I feel that way this year, but I do. Fortunately my brother and his family don’t mind having me around.

Amazingly I’ve managed to avoid any spankings for a little while now. Now what you’ll find really odd and disturbing is that I am a little sad about that. I’m sure it’s a good thing to be avoiding trouble and all that but sometimes it feels a little like nobody cares. Having that red backside all aglow and tingling while standing in corner waiting to escape to my room can be warmly reassuring at times and right now, as much as I’d hate it, that would feel pretty good too.