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.

Tough!

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.

No?

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.

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.

But

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.

Oops.

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.

But,

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.

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.
    
    

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.

But,

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.

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.

Food For Thought

I was going to write about the good that I think comes from spankings, but I ran out of time and my thoughts are as yet, incomplete. So, maybe next week. In the meantime, I thought I might ask a question and hold my breath waiting to hear some thoughts out there. Go ahead say a little something. I promise I won't bite or spank.

When speaking about disciplinary spanking of young adults / older teens is there always a sexual component to the spanking or can it be completely and utterly platonic?

I'd love to hear some thoughts on the subject and then if you're lucky, I'll let you know mine in a few days.

It's Not A Secret

I know some families think spankings should be this whole private affair, occurring behind closed doors and never discussed. I don't understand that mentality myself. It's not like everyone in the house doesn't already know or isn‘t going to know. If you've ever been in a house where a spanking is taking place I'm sure you would agree.

In my family we keep it right out in the open. If someone has misbehaved and is going to get a spanking, everyone in the house knows about. In fact, you might even say that we want everyone to know. Everyone knows what you've been up to and why you deserve one so there is no good reason for them to be excluded from the execution and certainly a few reasons for them not to be. Also, let's not forget how much more effective a little humbling humiliation can make a spanking. I'm absolutely certain anyone who has suffered a spanking in front of witnesses can attest to the veracity of my claim.

When you spank in front of everyone and keep it an open topic for discussion, it's a lot harder to act like you are too old for them. Not to mention, younger family members are very good about pointing out just how recent your last spanking was and how soon the next one could be. The second you start acting like you can get away with stuff is usually about a second or two before you find yourself with a pair of red cheeks. I'd call that proof to the contrary. What about you?

Obviously, I am well aware of my nieces and nephew being spanked and they are equally aware of my own spank-ability. What might be a little bit of a surprise is that I am also well aware of my sister in law being spanked by my brother and even in times past, by my parents. For some I guess this would be weird, strange, or even unbelievable, but for me it's just how things are and how they have always been.

My sister in law is tall and fit with a nicely rounded bottom and ample bosom. You guys can stop drooling anytime, remember she is married to my brother. Anyway, seeing her spankings is always a nice treat. There are the obvious reasons for the guys but for me it's also nice to see someone older than me (although sometimes just as bad) get her panties taken down. As her bottom turns pink and then red, I get a nice sense of satisfaction knowing when it comes to bending over for a spanking, we are all equals.

I recall an incident not so long ago when I was staying with my brother and sister in law while mom and dad were out of town. I’m sure you’d all like to hear about it, so here goes;

My sister in law was in a bad mood from the moment I arrived. I felt like I was imposing a little, probably because I thought I should have been able to stay home alone, but knew why I wasn’t. The reason I wasn’t allowed, was something irresponsible I had done only about a week earlier. Keeping my head down seemed like a good idea because my brother and my sister in law were well aware of all the facts and I’m certain any trouble from me would have been dealt with directly, but this isn’t about my bottom.

It was the third night when everything came to a head. I think it was a Saturday, not that it really matters. I had set the dinner table and my nieces and I were all washed up and sitting down. In the kitchen, my brother and her were arguing. Apparently, my brother had been in a minor accident on the freeway a few days before I arrived and she was upset because he was avoiding involving insurance in the repairs to his car. I’m not quite sure what the big deal was, but it was obviously upsetting her and my brother was rather adamant on how he wanted the whole thing handled. I guess a rather mundane argument all things considered, but it took a turn for the worse when my sister in law lost her temper and threw dinner across the kitchen floor.

What followed was exactly what I think anyone should expect if they’re going to throw things like a five year old. My brother hauled her out of the kitchen and into the dining room by her ear. If the pale look on her face was any indication, she knew she was in for something more than a slap on the wrist. A stern order from my brother and she was undressing herself down to her panties and bra, right in front of everyone. Another order and she was standing in the corner, cooling her heels and probably trying to decide whether she wanted him to get on with the spanking or not.

My brother had me order pizza for delivery since our dinner had taken up residence on the kitchen floor. My nieces and I kept fairly quiet and I think we all felt a little uncomfortable because of the situation. It’s not just that she was about to be spanked, that seemed like an obvious necessity, but we had all heard the arguing and we had all witnessed her being in a horrific mood for days. What we knew and didn’t want to say at the time was that the whole incident with dinner probably could have been avoided if he’d just spanked her a few days before. She was in her own way asking for it and he just hadn’t been paying attention.

My brother went and got his big paddle, we’re talking hefty wood with holes in it. He was clearly a little angry himself as he ordered her underwear off and her bent over with hands on the coffee table in the living room. My nieces and I were told to sit down on the sofa and watch. We had a view of her already teary face and I did feel a twinge of sympathy for her, but as I said, she clearly needed and deserved what she was getting.

My brother took his time laying on swats. He raised the paddle high in the air and then waited. She would clench her teeth and probably her buttocks in expectation, but then nothing. Eventually she’d start to relax and that is when he’d swing. The pop echoed in the living room like thunder in a canyon. She’d cry out in discomfort and her feet would bounce around as she tried to absorb the pain, but her hands stayed tightly gripped to the edge of the coffee table. I have to admire her for that. I mean I’ve done the same myself and all and I know it isn’t easy.

I think he gave her about 25 swats. I could be wrong because I sure wasn’t counting. The doorbell is what brought it to an end. Our pizza had arrived. I opened the door, paid and took the pizzas in as quickly as I could, but I can imagine it must have been an eternity to my sister in law, still bent over, grabbing the edges of the coffee table in plain sight of the front door. She definitely saw the young delivery man and I’ll say he got an eye full as well.

Naturally, she stood in the corner while the rest of us ate dinner. With the spanking out of the way, conversation was more relaxed between the rest of us. It included a few embarrassing comments for my sister in law’s benefit. Things like what the delivery guy must be thinking and how she was asking for it for days with her attitude. I’m sure that conversation wasn’t easy for her to hear. I’m equally sure it made an impression and helped teach her a lesson she wasn’t soon to forget. Cleaning up her mess in the kitchen while her bottom was still ablaze and the rest of us were enjoying a movie on the TV probably helped as well.

Since that incident, I don’t think she has lost her temper quite like that again. Sure, she still gets spankings for various things she does, but that’s just life. I think she learned an important lesson about taking things too far that night and part of that was aided by my nieces and I and a very lucky pizza delivery man.

Enjoying The View

Being spanked is a thoroughly unpleasant experience and it is supposed to be this way. I know some might argue about romantic spankings and willing recipients and probably a few more things I can't think of right now, but I'm not really speaking about sexualized spanking which I believe I can safely say encompasses any kind of spanking which might be interpreted as an enjoyable experience. What I am speaking of is punishment, pure and simple and it is not something which can readily be confused with a fun experience, at least for the person receiving.

No, for the person getting their backside reddened and smacked, it is a somber experience only made more traumatic by witnesses. We know this, each and everyone of us, and yet we do not often sympathize with the unfortunate one or even look away. In truth our reaction to seeing a spanking is quite the opposite. We are intrigued. Who isn't captivated by the sight of a naked bottom bouncing around under the loud spanks of her disciplinarian? Who doesn't smile as that same bottom turns pink and then red, all the while wriggling to escape those same inevitable spanks?

Should we feel guilty for enjoying the sight? Should we avert our eyes because we know the shame of being on the other side?

Maybe.

But, we don't.

Instead, we stare and smile and sometimes we even laugh and all at the expense of another. It sounds so cruel, but I've been on both sides and I think it is all just part of the experience, part of the punishment.

So you don't want people to see your bare bottom?

Behave.

You don't want people to laugh at your desperate antics to ease the burning pain?

Behave.

It's that simple. Behave or be spanked embarrassingly and humiliatingly, like the bad girl you were.

If you choose to break rules, you choose to be spanked and you choose to be entertainment for anyone lucky enough to watch. I accept this for myself and therefore I get to enjoy the experience when I am fortunate enough to be an observer instead of a recipient. I don't feel guilty about it because I've been on both sides and I know when I'm an observer I'm helping someone learn a lesson. Enjoying the experience does not diminish the role played by the observer, if anything it enhances it.

The real question I want to explore here isn't the ethics or morality of enjoying someone else's discomfort, but rather the reason why I can enjoy viewing an experience which I would otherwise loathe. If you can answer that question, I'd love to hear what you have to say. For myself, I don't really know the answer but I have some ideas.

I think maybe part of why I enjoy it is because it is not me getting my bottom spanked. There is a sense of satisfaction in knowing that someone else can screw up and get their panties taken down as a result of it. The fact that it hurts and is embarrassing to them only accentuates the comforting knowledge that I am not alone in my reactions to being spanked. There is a "duh" quality to this answer I realize but being obvious doesn't make it wrong.

Of course there is also the possibility I am vindictive. I could enjoy watching because I think or know they have or will enjoy seeing the same happen to me. It is true that when I observe someone else's spanking there is always a whisper in the back of my mind reminding me that it could just as easily be my butt turning red and that in fact it has been mine on many occasions. I think that is why I often blush at that moment when clothing is lowered or removed and again when she returns to her feet and dances shamelessly about, trying to ease the all consuming burning in her bottom without breaking the cardinal rule of rubbing. I know that I could as easily be watching myself and while it is amusing to watch, it is embarrassing to remember myself doing the same. It might well be that very embarrassment and knowledge that the one being spanked has seen my own which allows me the freedom to enjoy their embarrassment.

Then there is the chance I simply enjoy it because it is enjoyable. Enjoying the embarrassment of other people might well be a basic part of the human persona. If one exams the earliest form of entertainment in human history it often involved the humiliation of others. I know there are plenty of scholars who would disagree but if you follow my logic here I think my point is worth considering. From dancing to theater these forms of entertainment have a basis in doing things which attract attention to an individual or individuals. Whenever one draws attention to themselves in a flagrant manner in public it can be thought of as embarrassing or humiliating. You might argue that some people enjoy this attention but I don't think it negates the idea we might be naturally inclined to enjoy the embarrassment or humiliation of another.

Any other ideas or thoughts on mine?

Parents Suck

I know I was supposed to talk about what a curfew spanking is like, but seeing as the weekend went as it did I thought I would write about it. Somehow I don’t think anyone will mind.

Have I mentioned parents suck? No? Well they do…

Never more so than when they figure out that the perfect world they’ve constructed around me is anything but perfect. When I left Saturday morning they were at each other’s throats over something or other that wasn’t any of my business and I did my best to make sure it stayed that way. I came back late but not so late as to get in trouble, I didn’t think I needed that, but not early enough that I would likely be subjected to any more of their feud. Normally this is the best I can hope for when those days come around where mom and dad are sounding anything but parental.

It was therefore surprising to me to find them both sitting in the living room waiting for me. The absence of TV noise and the serious expressions on both their faces left me with a gnawing hole in place of my stomach and I gulped barely managing to keep my UH OH thought to myself. I didn’t have much a chance to say anything really, dad just told me to sit down with this utterly calm and yet entirely un-calm tone in his voice. If you imagine my knees were shaking and my head was spinning and I sat down only too gladly, you’d be mostly right.

What followed was an inquisition into my whereabouts for the day and the company I'd kept. It was light almost unobtrusive but in the back of my head my own voice was screaming for me to beware of strangers bearing gifts. Make no mistake, calm parents interested in my day without judging it are definitely strangers, not quite Invasion of the Body Snatchers strangers but close enough to raise hackles in any case. Then came the first accusation disguised as a polite question.

Why didn’t you say anything when you left this morning?

How does one tactfully answer such a question? Seriously. I have no idea how I was supposed to answer that. I decided it was better to shrug. Maybe that was wrong, but WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO SAY? Would it have gone any better had I said well I wasn’t sure I wanted to interrupt your fight with my unimportant plans for the day? Truth be told, I had no clue where I was going or what I was going to do when I left, I just knew I didn’t want to be home. The truth wasn’t exactly going to set me free or am I wrong?

I wasn’t wrong because as I suspected from the moment I walked in the door, it wasn’t Saturday’s activities which were at issue. Mom “found” a letter from school which I was keeping private. I do have a right to privacy and I would think my communications with my college should fall under that purview but my parents don’t agree on the mere premise that their financial involvement entitles them to full disclosure on all matters related to my education. Scholarships don’t care about all the stuff that goes on, they just want to know the final results. Seems equitable to me but yeah I know, parents aren’t a scholarship.

[Imagine my eyes rolling at the news and you’ve probably got my reaction down pat.]

Rather than bore you with all the petty details of conversation let me summarize. The school sent me a letter warning me that if I continued to not show up for my trig class I would be dropped from the class with a failing grade and that action could result in an academic probation status which could effect my ability to enroll in classes. Prior to receiving the letter I had no clue my attendance or lack thereof was in anyway an issue with classes at college. Call me stupid (just not to my face) but I thought in college all that mattered was passing the exams. I took the letter seriously and changed my behavior without needing anything from my parents to motivate me. They see it a little differently.

Complaints over the invasion of my privacy and their lack of respect for me as an adult were met with handbook parental responses, I have no privacy so long as I live under their roof, and I’ll be treated like an adult when and if I act like one. 

[See above note regarding rolling eyes.]

With views like that is it any surprise they resort to spanking me? I didn’t think so. It’s not that I don’t think I deserved a spanking over it, it’s that I think I’m old enough that it should have been my choice and not theirs. The distinction matters to me even if it does seem like a silly one.

After everything was said I was sent to bed for the night with the knowledge that nothing was over or settled. I knew I could anticipate a Sunday morning spanking and so I spent a mostly sleepless night thinking about it. I really wish I was better able to rest with stuff hanging over my head. It would make life easier.

Sunday morning came along and with it I quickly ended up upended over mom’s lap in the living room. I came downstairs after a quick stop in the bathroom and found mom and dad waiting in the living room. They didn’t waste time and for that I am glad. It is better to get over with it and early as it was my nephew was still in bed asleep. It’s a small comfort but it is less embarrassing when he’s not in the room while I’m being spanked.

I wear light weight pajamas to bed most nights, some times I don’t wear much of anything but when I know a spanking is coming in the morning, I always wear my pajamas. They’re pink and they have separate top and bottoms making them somewhat ideal for getting spanked as I’m sure you can imagine. So it wasn’t really necessary for me to do more than lower the bottoms and my panties, but mom was in a really foul mood for some reason and made me remove everything before going over her knee. I did protest some but as usual, it did me no good and instead of getting a hand spanking from her I had to walk back up the stairs, stark naked, to retrieve my hairbrush for her to use.

She started out slow and built up the speed faster and faster until I was kicking and squirming and squealing. It burned and stung and just kept getting hotter and hotter until finally I just laid still and sobbed. She waited a moment then for me to get back in control and then made me count out a final 18 smacks. After that I was stood in the corner while everyone else ate breakfast. Yes, my nephew was up then, probably awoken by the sounds of my spanking.

At first I really didn’t care about anything more than the burning in my butt. Rubbing doesn’t really help much but because I’m not allowed to do it, it seems all the more appealing while standing in that corner. A few minutes go by and the pain fades a little into the background and then I realize how humiliating my position is; stood naked in the corner with my hands on top of my head and my red spanked butt clearly visible to everyone in the house. While everyone is eating, talking and laughing like it’s just a normal Sunday morning, I am staring at a white wall exposing my shame. Call it an earth shattering moment when the realization hits like a ton of bricks falling out of the sky.

I should have known the end of breakfast would not be the end of it but I allowed myself to hope anyway. When mom spun me around from the corner and made it clear I was in for a miserable day I nearly started crying again feeling my hopes come crashing down. I sniffled and kept it inside though. I put my pajamas away like I was told and got my trig book, two pencils and a notebook. I brought them downstairs to the living room where I sat behind a small desk on a hard wood chair with my back to the wall. There I stayed working trig problems chapter by chapter for the rest of the day with only a few essential breaks.

As if all that were not enough, I'm confined to the house and only allowed to leave to go to school for the next month. Mom and dad expect me to do my homework at that desk in the living room just like on Sunday and then show it to them as well for the entire month. It's like they don't trust me at all.

Parents suck and so will the next month.

Curfew

If there was ever a more contrived rule to give spankings, I have been"fortunate" to avoid its existence. I mean really, be home by 11PM or your in trouble?!? For fuck's sake, on a Friday or Saturday night nothing worth going out for even starts before 11PM. I can honestly say I have never once missed my curfew time and felt like it wasn't worth every minute of it.  Maybe not at the exact moment of returning home to find Dad sitting in the dark waiting for my key to hit the lock, so he could send me to bed with the full knowledge I was in for a spanking come morning light, but later in retrospective, yes, it is always worth it. 

No, it's not because I like getting spanked. I should clarify that point right now before I forget about it. The actual act of getting a spanking, I have never found pleasant, but in contrast, the concept, the idea, the thought, the anticipation of being spanked is like chocolate covered strawberries served on a silver platter. You get the idea and if you don't, I don't draw it any better. 

With that in mind you can probably imagine the way I would spend those hours in bed waiting for the inevitable reality of morning to intrude.  Sleep was often the farthest thing from my mind, which begs the question, why? Not why was it the farthest thing from my mind, but why do parents do that? You know, tell you something "bad" is going to happen and then expect you to go to bed and sleep until it does.  Like anyone in their right mind could sleep knowing it would only bring them to disaster that much faster. Yes, I know time progresses at the same rate whether you are awake or sleeping, but that's just science, not reality. Reality is relativity and time, relatively speaking, slows to a crawl in the early morning hours when you are lying awake in bed. 

But the sun comes up and the birds chirp like it's going to be a good day and the cold air of night begins to warm to the new day and I sit and wait in bed like a good girl on Christmas morning only there are no presents waiting to reward me for my goodness. Yeah, I know if I was such a good girl why was I out passed curfew in the first place? I've got a better one for you, why is it I never had a curfew until I turned 15 and why do I still have one at 18? My parents have plenty of answers.  When I turned 15 and started dating they couldn't control where I was and who I would be with so they at least wanted to make sure I wasn't gone very long. 

How sweet! They worry about me hanging out with bad people and going to bad places.  Wait a second! Did they or did they not raise me to have good values? I think I know well enough who to stay away from and where I don't want to go, not to mention I always tell them where I am going because they won't let me leave the house if I don't. Does that mean they just assume I'm lying to them? Isn't that wrong, I mean after this many years shouldn't they have some trust and faith in me? Never mind I rarely tell them everything, where or place that I'm going cause that's just TMI and what they don't know, they can't rant about later.

Then of course there is my favorite excuse which dad uses.  I can get pregnant! Like that's news. Sure I can get pregnant, I think anyway,  I mean some people can't but I've got no reason to think I'm one of them. All that aside, I'm pretty sure I can pregnant at 1PM just as easily as at 1AM or is there a part of that discussion someone forgot to tell me?!? Whatever! Like I said, curfew is just the greatest excuse for parents to work in an extra spanking here and there.

That's it for today, maybe next time I'll walk you through a curfew spanking scene. That is if it would interest anyone, maybe this all boring though and nobody wants to hear about it. I guess we'll see. 

More About Me

Continuing the Q&A here to hopefully cover the basics.

Do I have any brothers or sisters?

• The short answer is yes, 2 older brothers. The long answer is of course more complicated because what in life is actually simple? That's rhetorical in case you were wondering.  My 2 brothers are 34 and 30 years old, meaning I have about as much of a sibling relationship with them as I do with my parents. In plain English I'm saying they are more like parents or uncles than brothers to me because there is a rather large age gap. However, the do have kids who are closer in age to me than they are. The older one has two daughters, age 15 and 13 and the other has a son, 10. Technically I am their aunt but I've grown up more as a sibling to them because they are always around.

• My 30 year old brother and his son live with me and my parents and have for nearly as long as I can remember.  He is pretty much always on the same page as our parents and it's mostly like having two fathers in the house. 

• When I was little my 34 year old brother lived with us too along with his wife and two daughters. They moved out around the time I was 10 or 11 but they didn't go far.  It's about a half mile to from my house to theirs.  So yeah, we see each other all the time and the girls still have bedrooms in the house here which they use a lot in the summer. 

So what's the deal with spanking?

• You might say my parents are a bit old fashioned. I'd say they are bit old. Maybe that's the same thing. Then again, maybe it isn't. What I do know is they are of the opinion a spanking can be a good thing when I've gone and done a bad thing. Imagine that!

• Now before someone goes off on a rant, spanking is far from the only possible consequence, but let's agree it is the most interesting. I mean really, getting grounded for two weeks is just plain boring and taking away my car keys just means someone else has to take me everywhere. I'd like to say a good talking to turns me right around but I'll be honest, when Mom or Dad talk I just don't listen.  Oh I nod and agree and say everything they want to hear but deep down I just know they are wrong and I am right. Hey, it could happen!

• So yeah, when they've gotten frustrated enough, they decide on spanking. I've got mixed feelings about that. On the one it's quick and effective in getting their point across, on the other it's quite embarrassing and oh yeah, it happens to hurt.  I'm sure you didn't see that coming.  You see the really complicated part is while I dread it and try to avoid it as much as possible I also find that a part of me wants and needs it.  Go figure. I'd say I was deranged but a few quick web searches tells me I'm far from alone here.

Who does the spanking?

• Mom and Dad both do it in about equal proportions.  Both of my brothers have also given me some spankings, but most of the time it's either Mom or Dad. 

What do they use?

• Anything! Not really, there is of course their hand, but it's pretty rare for that to be the extent of it anymore. We have a few dedicated implements, a small variety of paddles ranging from the small to the very large. Most of the paddles are wood, oak I think, I'm not a wood expert so I could be wrong. We also have a lexan paddle and one that is leather.  My Dad has also been known to use his belt, especially if we are not at home and Mom has this over sized cooking spoon she'll use sometimes.  I believe "OUCH!" is the word you are looking for.

Where do I get spanked?

• Wherever they decide to spank me, duh! For the most part it is either in the living room or my bedroom, but there are exceptions.  The circumstances matter because sometimes they feel it's appropriate for someone else to witness the spanking and sometimes they feel it's better being private. Obviously, given any say I would pick my bedroom, as if that would ever happen.

Is it always on the bare?

• Amazingly no. Truthfully, it is on the bare more than it's not, but as I explained above, circumstances matter and I'll explain that better when I get around to talking about actual spankings I've had. A lot of it just comes down to the judgment of my parents and they aren't exactly unreasonable about most things, just some things. Like all parents, they think they know everything. When will they grow up?

It's All About Me!

That's right. It's all about me and only me. If you want to read about you, go do it some place else. Oh and let me warn you now, you might not like everything you read here, you probably won't agree with everything you read here and that's all fine and good. This is for me and people who will appreciate it for what it is, so if you can't accept that or if you are prone to diatribes about other people's  lives and what's right and wrong, then maybe this isn't the best place for you. On the other hand if you like things a little off center, enjoy a good spanking, or just like to peer into someone else's life, then maybe you'll be right at home. Sit back, get your mocha cappuccino ready, and read on!

First the Q&A session:

Who am I? 

• The name is Andrea. It is a nice name, thank you, but it's mine and you can't have it. I don't shorten it, I don't abbreviate it and I don't have a nickname that I like, so deal with it or don't just don't expect me to respond to any other name because a rose might smell as sweet by any other name but if you call it crap don't expect me to sniff it.

• I'm a college student. That means I live at home, eat, drink, party, pretend to study, and generally keep my parents guessing as to what I'm doing and where I'm doing it. Naturally, that doesn't always go over so well, but more on that later. Oh, I don't know what my major is, so please don't harrass me about it.  Be creative, offer advice I can ignore.

What is this about? / Why am I blogging?

• Read the title of this post. Yeah, that's right, it's all about me! That's what it's about. All the seedy little details of my life shall be revealed, not! I have an interst in something I've noticed a lot of people have an interest in. It's called spanking and it's confusing and complicating and strangely compelling. I think blogging about it will help me sort it all out and come to sort of an epiphany. Not really, but it sounds good.  Ask me later, I might have a better answer but for now, it's just something I want to do for fun.