RAGING BRAT

Thank you!.. and some ramblings

2009-09-28T00:08:00.003+02:00

Thank you to all my readers. Thank you to everyone who ever commented on my stories. I have been gone for so long (one year, come to think of it) but I've missed writing. And most probably I wouldn't have missed it this much had I not received any comments from you, folks.

Apologies for not being able to comment back - as I usually do when I'm online.

Anyway, I was re-reading "The Ride" from my stories because I was curious what the story was about - I had completely forgotten. Then I found a link to my story, from Pretty Perversions, belonging to Dirty Little Angel. :) And the subject in my story plus Angel's post really got me thinking again about pain and how far we would go to release it.

I'll be back on this subject soon enough: I haven't finished what I had to say about it. My life lately brought me to the point where I see no point in falling anymore. I reached a point where I am not scared about my future or about what I believe in or what I like. I don't care anymore about what people say. I feel bold and at peace with myself.

So I am ready to open the Pandora's box and let out all those scary ideas - all those thoughts that some people are scared to admit they have. I am not scared of admitting anything. Ignoring does not make anything go away. And hiding does not make you a better person. We are all sick in a way or another and we all have our little dirty secrets we hide from the rest of the world. What annoys me most is the faces some people pull when they meet others who openly admit their 'sick' ideas. As if they were perfect. Their attitude makes me wanna puke. :)

Megan: Rewind... Now Fast Forward (M/F)

2009-09-27T19:57:00.005+02:00

I was still hoping to polish it. However, I have to be honest with you and myself: I might not be doing this for quite some time. So I'll share it with you as it is. :)

~~~~

Rewind... Now Fast Forward

(Megan, M/F)

Eyes half closed, Greg inhaled the thick smoke of his Camel cigarette. By no means was he tired of waiting; He was just eager to know the things which had happened behind the closed doors of the second bedroom.

The living room of the three-room apartment he and his friends had rented in Paris was a mish-mash of old and new: the narrow yet high windows, the classic sill, the squeaking parquet-covered floor, the high ceiling and the flamboyant looking chandelier were all from the mid-30s. But the air was filled with the smell of new furniture. He could have seen the pitch-black sky, if only the drapes had been pulled aside. Yet the windows were shut. He wanted them shut, in a futile attempt to muffle out the honks or the cars outside, the cacophony of the night traffic. From the corner of the room, a tall lamp’s obscure light was melting softly in the darkness of the living room. From the other corner, the 42 inch screen Sony was pouring a rainbow of mixed strong colors over the walls and the furniture, over his face, into his tired eyes. He could pick up bits and ends of conversation from the variety of noises the TV was broadcasting.

He didn’t hear the creak of the door opening, but with the corner of his eye he saw Ryan stepping in. Ryan was not the strongly built kind of guy, but something in his attitude, in the way he moved and talked and looked at people, made him more imposing than a 6 feet tall American football player. He slid inside like a cat, stepping on his tiptoes, and went straight for his pack of Parliament Lights on the table. His tensed shoulders relaxed.

“How is she?” – Greg questioned, pushing the lighter and the ashtray in Ryan’s direction.

“She fell asleep.” The lighter’s flame flickered as he tilted his head to light the cigarette. “Why didn’t you go out with the rest?”

“I wasn’t in the mood really…”

Ryan sat down and exhaled the smoke towards the floor. The thin grey line lost its contour, spreading in the air. With two bony fingers, Ryan massaged his forehead up and down. He felt the beginning of a headache building between his eyes. His neck cracked and he stretched it from side to side. “So what the fuck happened?” – Ryan asked in a low tired voice.

“Sorry we let them get out of hand,” Greg said, rotating constantly his glass of Sprite on the table. He felt somewhat guilty for not overseeing the outcome. “When you were in the shower Alice and Meg had a fight again – the crap with who is stronger from the two of them. More like teasing, really. They were playfully chasing each other with their belts… And we let them, because it seemed like they were having fun, you know? Yeah, I know I’m guilty: I know Meg well enough to realize she wasn’t actually playing. You know how her eyes sparkle. And you know the face she makes when she pretends to be fine but she isn’t. And you know that all she wants is to get back at you but she doesn’t know how to do it. I mean you’ve seen it before, right?…”

Ryan nodded. Of course he knew. He was teasing her about that.

“Well, Alice kind of slipped a stronger stroke on Meg’s legs and even though Alice apologized Meg was seeing red so she hit back. And the next second they were at each other’s throats, legs and kicks flying, and on the floor, punching one another like two mad cats. No bites or scratches like you would expect from girls, you know? That was shocking… Just fists. And Neil and I couldn’t separate them. I mean Meg went so berserk that I couldn’t take her off Alice. So I had to call you.” He stopped to play with his cigarette. “Sorry…”

Ryan pulled a face. “Fuck, you’re dumb… All of you. I am somewhat blaming you because you know her and you shouldn’t have let this stupid game go so far. You know her!”

“I know, man… But we couldn’t control her. And lately I don’t even know what to do or what to say anymore… She’s overstressed with the job and the exams and her family and money and all that. You can’t even make a joke anymore without her getting mad. She takes things personal. She’s never been this bad before.” As much as he wanted to make it sound like he was pointing out a fact, he still sounded as if he was complaining.

Ryan nodded. “We are her friends and we are supposed to help her. She’ll be ok if we help her.”

“Of course I would help her. But I felt powerless… like that time I called you to come pick her up from the club. If she has a drink or something, you can’t reason with her anymore. She’s gone wild. And the only person she listens to and fears is you. And even if she says she doesn’t care what you think or say, she does. Man… I just hope you are aware of it.”

Ryan nodded. He was aware of it. He’s been aware of it for a few months now. As aware of it as he was of his own feelings for her.

“It’s late. I think I’ll go to bed. Is she gonna be ok tomorrow?” Greg asked, slowly standing up.

Ryan smiled. “In which way?”

“You tell me…”

“Well, emotionally she will be fine by noon. Physically, she won’t be able to sit down without remembering tonight for about a week. At least.”

Greg couldn’t suppress his own smile. “You two are mad.”

Ryan laughed. “I know. But we’ve never claimed to be normal, either of us. Just tell the others not to make any comments about it tomorrow. I don’t want her pouting for the rest of the week, ok?”

“Of course. Ok man, I’m off to bed. Night.”

Ryan reached for the pack and lit another cigarette. He felt the need of cool fresh air. He sat and smoked his cigarette in the open window, gazing from the fourth floor of the apartment to the live city below. He thought of tonight and he smiled. Something clicked in his brain. It clicked in a wrong sort of way, but he didn’t mind. He felt his erection yet he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop it. Not this time. Not again.

Rewind…

Water dripping from his wet hair on his damp t-shirt, bare feet, jeans pulled on without having had time to dry himself – Ryan was knocked into reality by the speed of the events: a second ago he was taking his hot shower, then Greg was violently knocking on the bathroom door and now – now, he was staring at Meg’s figure sitting on Alice and trying to free one of her hands from Alice’s clutched hands. Rage was radiating from both sides but on Meg’s side blind anger eased out from every pore. He could picture her hammering a fist in Alice’s mouth without thinking twice. It was a deja-vu from his high school days when such weekly sights were the boys’ delight. But he’s never seen girls at it.

Neil and Greg were trying to separate them with the attitude of two pussies running around and screaming. Ryan didn’t think; he acted. It took him two seconds to evaluate the situation and half a second to bend over Meg’s back, reach from the sides and seize both her wrists. He twisted them. “Let go,” he ordered. His calm order relaxed Alice. Neil got in between them taking hold of Alice’s hands, making sure there would be no kicks once the hold was broken.

“Let go of her hands, I said,” Ryan lowered his voice even more, to an almost threatening level. Louder than a whisper, he spoke right into Meg’s right ear, bending even more on top of her.

Her chest was rising and falling fast, as if she couldn’t breath. Ignoring the pain of her skin crippling under his hold, she was twisting her hands trying to free herself. As one of her hands slid out of his lock, the hand turned into a fist, and the elbow violently hit back into Ryan’s stomach. The boy tensed his muscles too late and he felt the acute pain of not being able to breathe for a few silent seconds. The same seconds in which his own vision was covered in red and his jaw tightened. He lost his mood for negotiating or trying to be gentle, not to hurt her. He seized her hands with all his power and caught them in one hand. Two fingers grabbed her ear.

“If you hit me again, I’ll punch your teeth out, got it?” He said, recovering his breath.

“Go fuck yourself. Let go! Let go I said! Fuck… off…!” She tried to escape but the burn in her earlobe restrained her movement. She found herself forced to stand up, while her prey, Alice, was walking away safely, wiping a drip of blood from her broken lip.

Meg’s leg went up and hit Ryan’s hard. Ryan’s eyes closed in pain but no sound came out. Teeth gritted, he turned to the rest of the party: “You guys wanted to go out. I suggest you do now. Greg, stay if you want. Neil, please take Alice out. Sorry about this.” Another hit caught his muscle hard enough to numb his whole leg. He prayed he could stop his anger before he would kill her.

He didn’t remember if or when the others left the room. He had one focus only: Meg. Still keeping her hands locked he dragged her toward the bedroom. He couldn’t tell how many punches, hits, and bites he got before he dragged her past the bedroom door: his own anger made him immune to them all.

“You are so fucking dead,” he informed her, with one hand turning the key inside the key lock and isolating themselves from the rest. His fingers entangled in her hair. He brought her face close to his. “Look at me.” She shut her eyes, pouting. “Look at me, I said.” He pulled harder on her hair. She whined, trying to hit back. He put more pressure on her wrists causing her to try to twist in pain. He didn’t allow her. “You fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.” She opened her eyes. Pain was written all over them. She was on the verge of crying but she tried to control herself. He locked her gaze. His words were as dark and threatening as his look: “You try to hit me one more time, I’ll snap your wrists. Got it?” She swallowed hard but didn’t answer. “Did you get it, I asked? And you fucking answer my questions when I ask you something. Or else, it’s bad for you. Really bad. Did you get it?”

“Yes,” she retorted, anger in her voice. It was almost a shout.

He pulled more on her hair. She cried.

“I don’t like your tone. Let’s try again. Yes or no?”

“Yessss,” she whined trying to escape the pain.

“Fine.” – he said. “You want to rebel? Fine by me.” He pushed her towards the bed and began unbuckling his black belt. “Then you should be able to face the consequences accordingly.”

She stepped back until she was three steps away from him, her back resting on the wall.

“I don’t have to face any fucking consequences.”

“With me, you have. Get your ass here,” he pointed with the belt toward the spot in front of him. The tone was like ice: too calm to be soothing; it raised goose bumps on her arms. She shook her head no. “Why?” – she asked.

“Because I’m gonna tan your ass blue, that’s why. Get your ass here.”

She shook her head no again. Her limbs felt like jelly.

“Bring you fucking ass here, Megan. If you make me come there to get you, it will be really bad for you, trust me. So start unbuttoning those jeans already and come here.”

Her eyes shut and tears gathered in their corners. She allowed her body to slide down along the wall, until she was a crouched figure on the floor, knees clasped to her chest. Ryan walked to her without additional words, seized her ear again, dragging her up. She cried in pain and grabbed his hand, squeezing hard, hoping this would convince him to let go. He didn’t. He threw the belt on the bed and with one hand proceeded to unbutton her jeans. Her hands moved their attention to the buttons. The grip on her ear burnt even more. She sobbed. The hand pulled the jeans to her knees; he threw her small body face down on the bed. She turned around and tried to crawl away. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back, until she laid face down on the bed, head in the pillow, aligned on the side of the bed. He had to fight her again to bring both her wrists to the small of her back, then pin her down in that position. Her body arched back as she felt him reaching for the belt uncoiled at her feet.

It was hell. The pain was hell. Her inability to escape was hell. Her crying in front of him was hell. And she hated that she had reached the point to beg him to stop. By the time Ryan had finished his job she had probably apologized even for the fact that she was born. And nothing had made any difference. He had freed her hands in the end. She didn’t bother to cover her burning ass anymore, but crossed them in front of her and buried her face in the sleeves of her polo so she could muffle her cries.

When it was over she didn’t move.

He threw the belt back on the bed and simply sat there watching her sobbing. She had no intention of standing up.

“Lift up,” he said softly reaching for the top of her jeans. She raised her hips and he pulled her jeans completely down, slowly, lifting one leg at a time.

He opened her backpack and groped for the wet napkins. It took him a full minute to find them, buried under make-up items, lens cases, keys, and god-knows what else. He took one out and handed it to her. She took it gingerly without looking at him. He waited patiently for her to blow her nose and clean her tear-stained cheeks and eyes.

“Do you want me to cover you? Are you cold?” – he whispered.

She shook her head and turned her head on the pillow towards him. He sat himself on the floor next to the bed. Her hand reached out from under the pillow, looking for his. When he took it, she squeezed it hard.

Fast Forward…

It wouldn’t have happened, if it weren’t for her move. Unknowingly, she opened the Pandora box when her warm hand had reached under the blanket looking for the comfort of his hold.

His mind had been silenced. He felt the heat radiating from her small tired body. The smell of her skin, of Brazilian coconut mixed with her flesh’s natural scent. His finger touched her nape, stroking her skin. She let out a sigh, as if in a dream, and turned her head towards him. His lips got closer, as if testing. He could have kissed her forehead, like you’d do to a sister, but her quick breathing in his neck caused the synapses of the neurons to shut down. His lips touched hers just once. Yet it wasn’t enough. She pushed closer for his touch. Her lips parted. His tongue slid in madly, in hunger.

His hand clasped her neck, the thumb running up and down her jugular. A primitive instinct to cause her pain, to punish her, and to love her mixed together. His other hand grabbed her round bottom, squeezing the flesh. He was aching to fuck her; he could see nothing before and beyond the moment. “Turn around,” he whispered in her ear. It was a harsh whisper, almost a groan. Almost an order. She obeyed and he helped her roll on her tummy. She twisted her head to one side, so their tongues could meet again.

He threw away his boxers and slid on top of her, locking her neck with his arm. Softly biting on his forearm, she hid her deep moans.

He mouthed again the words in her ear: “Open your legs.” He was hurting to fuck her. He realized he’d been like this for longer than he could remember but he had always tried to hide it. He had always tried to ignore the feeling.

He pressed himself against her moisture. As he slid inside of her for the first time she tightened her grip on his forearm. For how long she hasn’t been fucked, he wondered. She was tight. But wet like hell too. He rocked inside of her slowly first, listening to her small noises. Then he pounded harder and deeper, each thrust pushing her small body in the bed. His hand hurt from her bite as she tried to keep silent.

He pulled out and went for her ass. “Relax. And open a bit more,” he said again. She obeyed. And he forced his hard cock in her tight asshole. It was her first time. She almost screamed, as pain took over her. She contracted her muscles instead of relaxing. He was hurting himself now. She tried to stand up. He pinned her down instead and pushed again and again, slowly.

She felt tears gathering in her eyes from the intense pain. “No, no, please… Please take it out. Take it out.” Her hands tried to push him away but he seized them and locked her in the small of her back. “Shhh… Relax, don’t tense. It will pass in a second.” He wiped her tears.

He paused for almost a full minute then pushed again. “Does it still hurt?” She shook her head “no”. He fucked her ass hard, taking small slow breaks not to ruin the fun before any of them would want to. His fingers went front, to her clit. She had raised her ass higher in delight. She came violently twice. She shook in his arms and he went on fucking her until he saw her exhausted and felt himself hurting. His sperm filled her up. He left himself fall on her, breathing hard. She turned her head around again and he kissed her. He had no idea what the heck was going to happen to the two of them from now on.

Spanking in the Movies

2008-09-14T19:17:00.004+02:00

Hey guys,

Ok ok. I've been gone for some time... Actually I am working on two stories and neither are coming alive too fast. :) Sorry about that.

However, I have this little treat for you, thanks to someone called MovieSpank. :)

Enjoy!

Megan: Not Sick (M/F)

2008-08-22T22:30:00.042+02:00

Not Sick

(M/F)

Hidden in her chair, shaking with fever, watched by three pairs of eyes - she absolutely hated the situation. If there had ever been a time when she had to keep it cool, this had to be it. She was this close to shouting and swirling something in the girls' direction. She would, but she couldn't; If she moved too much she was going to faint. Or even worse - shake, as if determined to cause an earthquake.

"Meg, please let us take you to a doctor. You're burning."
She shifted her look towards the curly red haired. "I don't need any fucking doctor. Don't you all get it? I'm fine. I caught a cold. Big deal. I'll be all dandy tomorrow."
"No, you're not. Look at how you're shaking." That was Rachel. Meg didn't bother to answer.
"Look, Rachel will drive you..." - The red haired said again, feeling Meg's forehead with the back of her palm. "You have at least 38. I swear."
"Will you stop it already?" Or else she would start shouting and a shouting Meg was as bad as the Katrina.
"You were sick when you came and then you didn't want to put the jacket on last night." It was Jackie's turn. Jackie was her friend. Not her best friend, but a good friend. But Meg had a few ideas of where Jackie could shove her frienship.

And this is when Jackie decided it was time to take control of the situation and went to get help - as if anybody had ever asked for fucking help. Help materialized - as expected - in the form of another very good friend, Ryan. That was Jackie for you: too concerned about others but not enough about herself.

Perfect.

Ryan stared at Megan. She didn't look back, even though his eyes could pierce through her skull. And she avoided him not because she was scared of fainting or shaking too much - she avoided him because you don't fuck around with Ryan. It was a basic rule. Ryan would always be there if she needed him, but Ryan would take none of her nonsense. Besides, she had a clear feeling that this time Ryan would take the girls' side, only because they were three against one. It was not because she was wrong. Being wrong meant that she was sick indeed, which she couldn't be; Her body would not let her down.

"What happened to you?" He stood next to her crouched figure. She could see his black converse sneackers.
"Nothing happened to me. What the fuck happened to all of *you*?" It was a mumble.
"Cut the crap. You're as sick as a dog. And red like hell."
"I am tired. I caught a bit too much sun. Now will you all leave me alone?"

"See what I mean?" - Jackie snapped on her high pitched exasperated tone. "She doesn't want to go to a doctor."
"Jackie, go pack her bags please. I'll take her home. This trip is over for her right now."
"Jackie, you pack my bags and you are dead meat." She took it out on an easier target.
The girl stopped, looking back at Ryan.
"Are you listening to her or to me? Do as I said and I'll take care of her. I'll come in a second to pack mine."
"You're not coming back?" - the red haired one asked, as surprised as always.
Ryan watched Jackie run back to the house. She stopped for a few seconds on the terrace, where the rest of the group was gathered playing cards and drinking, and soon he felt all the eyes turn towards him and Megan.
"Nope. 'Fraid not. " - he said, ignoring the general stare.
"Ok. Then take the brat home and make sure she doesn't do more stupid stuff. Oh... and she had a few tequilla shots earlier today... be careful with the pills for her."
"I have experience, don't worry. Why did you let her drink?"
"Hello, I am still here!" - Meg finally raised her eyes, but not to Ryan - to Eliza. "Stop talking as if I was going anywhere..."

"Here she starts again," Eliza sighed, raising her hands in the air. "Woman, are you out of your minds? Of course you are going."
"No, I am not. End of discussion."

Jackie planted two backpacks next to Ryan's car. "Both ready," she announced, big smile on her face.
"She doesn't want to go," Rachel felt the need to keep Jackie updated.
Still not looking at Ryan, Megan exploded: "Fuck off all of you already! What the fuck? It's my life, my body, I know how I feel. I am not sick!"

There were a few seconds of silence, which at the moment - and given the continous chit-chat - seemed to be measured in light years.
"Can you leave us two alone for a few seconds," Ryan asked, hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, as if you could convince her," Eliza mumbled.
"You have no idea," he smiled.

Meg fought to hide her disconfort, yet she was sure the embarassement was written all over her red face. She wasn't sure why, but she just knew this was not good. She caught a glimpse of Ryan's knee as he sat down, crouched, in front of her.

"Megan, look at me," he said.
"What do you want?" She kept staring at her own sneakers, pulling at the long green blades of grass around her feet.
"Look at me," he repeated, and this time it was almost an order.
Why was she unable to say 'no'? His eyes caught hers. She couldn't sustain his look.
"Has there ever been a time when I didn't keep my promises?"
"What the fuck does it have to do with...?"
"Answer my question." He was too patient. It made her feel small, like a child being scolded. "Have I ever broken my promises?"
"No. So what?"
"Then let me promise you this: if I don't see your ass in that car in 3 minutes, you're in deep trouble. Because you've been looking for trouble for some good time now and today you are overdoing it."
"I am not looking for any trouble!" It was the most rebellious cry she gave in half a year.
The heads turned again towards the two of them.
"Yes, you are, and I promise you that you are gonna get it. Badly. And in front of them." He pointed towards the rest of the gang.

She smirked and locked his eyes. "You are not serious. You don't have the guts in front of the manager!"
He raised his eyebrows. "If you want to find out if I have the guts or not, try me. And by the way" - he said checking his watch - "you still have two minutes." He stood up. "I'm putting the baggage in the car. When I am in the car, I want you in there also. Or else."

He stood up, and went to carry out his plan. In less than a minute, her backpack had landed in the trunk of the car, next to his. Oh, how romatic: She will remember to throw up later. Then without even looking at her, he went to sit in the car. Started the engine even.

She waited. Thirty seconds later Ryan opened the door of the car without looking at her. Fuck, was the only thing that crossed her mind. He was not kidding. Without hurrying, and as naturally as she could, she began walking towards the BMW. He stopped to watch her, amused smile on his face.

Slammed doors was something that he hated so she slammed hers as loudly as she dared to.
"You're really needing it, I see... Really really asking for it..."
Pouting, she sank in her seat.
(Engine still purring in the background.)
He stared at her staring stubbornly outside.
"If anyone has ever deserved a good spanking, that would be you."
She didn't answer. He didn't expect an answer anyway, so he went back to the gears and gas padal.

***

"You'd better not spit that out, Meg!" He watched her grimace as she nibbled on the broccoli.
"I hate it. I hate being forced to eat." The fork landed noisily on the plate. "I want to sleep."
"Not before you eat your food and take your medication."
"No."
"Megan?"
It was a threat.
She wanted to throw something at him. Possibly the plate. Or the fork.
"I am not hungry. Why can't you leave me alone? I am tired. I am not sick! I don't need medicine."
"Eat your food, Megan. "
He sat next to her on the bed.
She pushed the plate aside, lowering herself under the blanket and pulling the pillow over her head. "No" - her voice came mumbled.
"I am not your Mom or Dad or your boyfriend to try to be nice to you, you know? I don't even give a shit if you get mad at me. If you don't eat your food and take that damn medicine-- Megan, are you listening?-"
"No."
"--You'll get a good thrashing. I hope your heard that."
"I am not sick." She lifted the pillow to stare at him with what she hoped to be a convincing look.
"You're a spoilt brat. And it seems that no one has ever spanked you for that."
"Ryaaaan... I want to sleep."
His hand reached for her wrist. She pulled back but there was no escape: he grabbed one, then the other.
"And this time I am not playing or messing around," he added, bringing together her wrists so he could hold them in one grasp. She opened her mouth to bite, then changed her mind, but not fast enough.
"You want to bite?" - he chuckled. "Here. Bite. See if it helps. Because I'm telling you for sure it won't." He stood up, pulling her unwilling body out of bed.
"Let go! Ryan!" Any attempt to free her hands was futile.
The other hand grabbed her nape. "Don't you know you can't run once I get my hands on you?"
"Ryan, I'm sick..."
"Oh, I thought you weren't?" He laughed, but put his force into making her stand up, then forced her to bend over. He freed her hands only to reach for his buckle, while the other hand kept a firm grip of the back of her neck. She tried to stand up only to realize again that yes, it was impossible to escape. And Ryan was not her boyfriend, to kick him in the balls and make a run for it.
"Ryaaan... it hurts..."
"You have no idea how it will hurt! And say thank you you get to keep your Pjs on."
"I'm not thanking you for anything! Hey, my phone is ringing. I need to answer!"
He laughed at her attempt. "You will call back. So, baby sister, is that all you can come up with to get out of this? I thought you were smarter than that!"
She heard the clink of the buckle as the belt was coming out of the loops. It took Ryan a bit of extra effort to fold it with one hand but the mission was accomplished. Meg's hand reached back to grab it. Something clicked in her mind; this was not one of their stupid fighting games - this was real. And Ryan had every intention to make her understand that.

"So," he said tapping the belt against his jeans and keeping his firm grip on her nape, "I reckon this is the first ever spanking in your life. Correct me if I am wrong, but I remember you saying you never got spanked?"

"Leave me alone! Ryan, let go. I am fucking serious."

"Me too. I suggest you keep your hands on the bed and your voice down. You will make better use of your lungs when we are finished."

"Ryaaan! If you touch me I kill you. I swear."

"Promises, promises... But you never keep your word." He chuckled again, raised the belt and brought it down. It wasn't hard but it caused her to jump in protest.

"Ryan!"

He ignored her protests. As the belt went up, the smirk on his face was gone. His eyebrows wrinkled. And the belt came down with the purpose of leaving a lasting impression in her mind. She wanted to shoot up. His hand stopped her. And before she got the chance to let any sound out, the belt fell again.

"This is not funny. Stop it."
"I didn't say it would be funny. If there is no one in this world to give you a good spanking when you need one, then I have to volunteer. And unluckily for you, I care for you and I also take my job seriously." He didn't have to count the strokes to know, from previous experience, that by now her butt would be already turning pink, and to also know that the pain was bearable.

He went up a notch: raised his arm higher, brought the belt down harder. She fought back, mostly trying to stand up. The pain had reached her brain. Shouting at him was an effort.

"Ok ok... For fuck's sake! I'll take my medicine."
"When we're done you will, yes," he agreed, not stopping the assault on her behind.
"Fuck, man! Ryan, stop it! Ryaaaan!"
He didn't answer.
"I'm not done yet. And for your info," he added, letting the belt fall hard again," I am far from being done."
She cursed under her breath and grasped at the bedspread. Her fists clenched and her forehead lowered until it rested on the bed. Each stroke made her jump but she stopped fighting back, too preoccupied with the pain. Besides, it was pointless - she was aware of it. The only comforting thought was that there was no one there to witness her downfall; she prayed that Ryan would not tell Jackie.

"Imagine this over your panties, Meg. Or on your bare. I am sure you don't want to feel that. Do you?"
"No," she choked.
"And I am not giving you the fullest, trust me," he went on, raising the belt again and again. "I am only introducing you to a demo, if you like."
"Fuck your demo," she dutifully replied.
He chuckled.

"Oweeee!"
"Half through..."
"This is not funny!" She tried to stand up. He grabbed her nape again in an instant and brought her head down. The echoes of the belt hitting her clothed behind overlapped.

And here is where the real pain starts, he mused. And he was right: the pain was throbbing all over her button, going down her legs, to her knees.
"Ryan..." - the sound was chocked. It was on the verge of a plea.
He ignored it.

And then there was silence; the kind of silence that hides the cries that do not want to come out.

He went on until he heard a few sobs. He unrolled the belt and began sliding it back into the loops, keeping an eye on her crouched figure.

"So, now you know what a spanking is and what you will get from now when you act the way you did today. Actually, you've been after it since I know you..." He sat next to her."You're ok?"

She nodded but refused to look up. She didn't want anybody to see her crying.

"Ok... Go wash your face and get in bed then. You gotta eat your food and take your pills and then you can sleep for a few hours."

She nodded. Turning her head to the opposite direction, she stood up gingerly. Her palms itched to rub her bottom but she refused to show him that the spanking actually hurt her. In the doorway, she paused for a second, back towards him still:
"You're not going to tell anybody that I got spanked, are you?" She was pleading.
"Why not?" - he teased. "Are you ashamed of it?"
"Please don't..."
"I bet Jackie can't wait to freak out when she hears this."
"Ryaaaan..."
"No, I won't tell them. But maybe we should prepare them just in case one day you find yourself over my lap in front of them." He chuckled.
"Not funny."
She walked toward the bathroom, hiding her own smile.

Back after 3 Months

2008-08-09T22:41:00.003+02:00

Why hello there happy folks!

Yes, I know I have been gone for about 3 months... which was not my fault. I am not saying that because I am a brat and because, generally speaking, nothing is my fault; it's not my fault because the fucked up cable company was unable, during all this time, to give me the Internet service I signed the contract for. So I am on wireless, still waiting for the mother fuckers to do something about my connection.

Anyway, as you can imagine, I cannot write from work. Even if I could, I wouldn't.

Also, this week I will be more than busy with work and then I will go on vacation. And by the time I am back things should be fine.

I am writing something - as a matter of fact, I started that story some good time ago and I lost interest in finishing it, but even so, I will. And then I will focus on something else.

Thanks to everyone who commented on my stories - and not only. And I apologies for not getting back to them. :) But I will see you around.

:)

~Kay

Older Spanking Story: The Way I Want it to Happen (RL, M/F)

2008-05-27T22:49:00.005+02:00

Hello again... tonight.

I don't usually post two stories in a row, but I've been thinking about this one lately. It was written more than seven years ago for A.S.S. It's not my best, but it gives me a feeling which no other story of mine does. Maybe because it was based on real events, which have happened to me and Jack. Maybe because back then I cared less about style and more about mood. Maybe because, being about us, it is more personal to me. And most probably because I love the thrills I still get when I read it.

It focuses on anticipation - still my favorite part of a story. I have editted it - just a bit, but here it is. You can still find the txt format in which in was originally written. Hope you enjoy it.

The Way I Want it to Happen

M/F, anticipation

The plane landed. Rushing to the 'passport control', I can't
take you out of my mind. I waited for almost 4 months to see you
again and now that I am here, I just can't believe it. The call last
night was short due to the high phone bills we always get, but you told me
you already emptied a shelf in your closet for me. Yes, soon I will
be outside, I will see you... I will kiss you. You have no clue how
much I missed you.

The flight was crap, but I'm getting used to them. Those 3
hours spent in 'transit' were the worst 3 hours of my life. It always
gets worse: the anticipation, the boredom when you are all alone and
have to entertain yourself. I spent the last night at home
cleaning my computer. It took me some time - 'Favorites' folder,
'My Pictures', 'My Documents', the trojans I'm keeping, the cookies,
the 'History' folder, the 'Temporary Internet Files'. When you are hiding
something from your parents or friends (like my kink) then you gotta
make sure no trace is left. Then in the morning, calling for the cab
and waiting for it to come... smoking all the time... worrying about the
weather up there... Not being able to eat just drink water and coffees.
Your mouth dry, your pulse racing... Trying lots of clothes until you
KNOW you look the best today. All that, you know? It's really enough to
build stress and a huge blood pressure. And then finally in the
airport, counting the hours: I will see you in less than 5.
Then 4; then 3, and so on. And when you check-in for your last plane,
then it really goes crazy: reading magazines but not being able
to focus on them. But this is always better than the leaving point which
involves too many tears.

So here I am, in the line. I can claim my baggage in 10
minutes. The New York or Vienna flight is always landing before mine.
I just hope they haven't lost my luggage this time!

"Hello..." I smile, giving my passport to the guy in front
of me. I could say it in (language specified) now but I don't want to show them that I speak too
much of it so I can avoid the crappy questions.

"Coming from?..."
Why do you always ask that? Can't you see the stamps in my
passport?

"...Cape Town..." The guy nods, checks my picture, my face.
I smile sweetly. Then he smiles back and I have a new 'stamp'.

"Thank you..." I murmur and, grabbing my hand baggage,I
head out.

It didn't take long for my blue baggage to come. I'm happy
I bought one with wheels because if not, I think I would go crazy
carrying it. Always 20 kilos. Not even once less or more... But
also 3 months of staying outside of your country requires lots of
clothes.

Heading for the sliding door, I get to look outside. I can't
see your face but I know you are there, somewhere among all those
people. The terminal is kind of small comparing to the one in *location deleted*
but I like it better this way. I read the signs "Declare and Nothing
to Declare. I don't have anything worthy with me except for my cell
phone, which isn't much anyway. The guys don't ask anything. I look
too innocent to carry bad things with me.

Finally outside! Where are you?... And while I turn my head
around in all directions, I realize you are standing right in front
of me, smiling... Oh, you are so cute! I get to hear yor voice next
to me again, the sexiest voice in the world.

"Babyyyyyyyy!!!" - I jump kissing you.
"Hey little baby," you welcome me in your arms. One kiss... Two
kisses... You want to take my luggage and get out of that crowd but I
won't let you. "More more more!..." - I ask, not getting enough of your
lips. You chuckle and give me some more soft kisses. "Ok, let's go,"
you whisper in my ear. "Cab or bus," I ask, knowing that a taxi would
be my favorite right now. "Cab," you grin. I'm already playful,
jumping around you.

The taxi driver is indeed waiting for us: some young guy who
doesn't understand English hopefully. I'm getting inside the car, waiting for you
to place my luggage in the trunk. I'm smiling at myself. Finally here,
finally seeing the city again. I do love this place! I'm always happy here.

Turning my head I see you getting on. Then the doors close and
here we go. Home sweet home! Bet your room is clean, isn't it, baby?
Lucky for me to come and make it a mess again! The image outside this cab
doesn't interest me. Only you can have my full attention now. Hands in
hands - you smile at me and carress my face. I kiss your palm.

"How was the flight?" - you ask - always the first question
when we meet. I answer by rolling my eyes. Laughing, you drag me closer
so I'm almost lying down now. Then - "how are your parents, how is your
cousin, how was Cape Town when you left, are you SURE you are done with
your exams, have you been sick lately?". I give half-hearted answers to these
questions: they are not my main concern right now. Your
fingers run through my hair and suddenly I feel you tightening the grip.
This means only one thing - we won't unpack tonight, I guess!

"So have you been a good girl?" Hiding my face in your chest and
blushing furiously, I nod.
"Uhmmmm..." I can't say much. The driver is intimidating me...
and I know from previous experience that you won't miss the occasion to
turn me on right there, knowing how embarassing it is for me. As a matter
of fact, it's always a question of who is faster in turning the other one
on. If you weren't the first one to try and do it, then I would be the
one starting it. Who's controlling who in this cab? This time it is your
turn.

You're pushing my chin up with your forefinger forcing me to look
into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" Oops! I missed a heart beat! Boom boom boom - my
heart against the ribs. Your eyebrows raised, your eyes into my eyes, your
little incredulous smile, the whole attitude makes my face flush again. I
open my mouth but no sound comesg out. Mind racing, I turn my eyes on
the landscape outside, knowing full well that your gaze won't help me give
the right answer.

"Ummm...", I try, "I... I mean... I was MOSTLY a good girl.. you
know."

"Mhm..." You don't fall for it. "Well... " I come back
trying to convince you, "Well, I was good 99% of the time..." Your face
shows me that you still don't believe me...

"Maybe 90 per cent of the time?" I grin a bit amused.
"Try again," you suggest, hand pulling my hair a bit harder.
"Ok ok... " I give up. "I was good... less than 90%. 89??"
I can't help myself and I start chuckling. You're just watching me.
"I hope you won't lose your humor when we get home," you pass it to
me sweetly, big smile on your face. As suddenly as I started laughing, I stop.
Puzzled by your remark I look at you: "Ummm... why?"

Three loving taps on my thigh give me the answer:
"You will see why, baby... You will see!"

OK. You are cooking something it seems. The back seat is not
comfortable anymore. I wriggle a bit and get closer to you.

"I've been a good girl... Really... "
"Well... What do I know? Except for the skipped classes and
the huge phone bill?..." I catch you grinning. "Or the teasing on the
phone when I was on guard... knowing full well that I can't get you
back... " I suddenly frown and pout. "Pretty impressive list, huh?"

I raise my head and look at you; you turn your face towards me,
still smiling. I'm trying to understand if you are serious or if this is
just teasing.
"Rings a bell?" - you query.
"More or less..." - I sigh in reply.
With the corner of my eye I'm looking outside again, pondering the next idea that popped into my mind. "Umm," I start, while you play gently on my cheeks. "What iiiiiiiiiif...What'f I promise never to do it again?" I'm crossing my fingers behind my back. I see you shaking your head and laughing, as if this was my best joke ever.

"I heard this promise before. I hear it each time your phone
bill comes and then, after you pay it, you call again or stay online all
day long... And then you call me very upset - "oh, baaaaabyyyyy... my bill
came... what am i gonna dooo? fucking bill and fucking phone and fuck
this and fuck that"..."
I whine and slap you softly. I couldn't help myself. I just
hate it when you immitate me. I hate it. And you know that. "There!" -
I declare on such a tone as if I won the big war.

Your eyes widen, then your face darkens.
"Bad girl! You'll get your punishment for this when you get
home, don't worry! Brat!" Sulking and protesting, I hide my face in
your lap.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and obey me, little one?"
"No!"
"Well then," you go on, "I will put you over my lap and spank your
ass until you will." I groan.

My face burns with shame, and I pray to all Gods that the driver
doesn't understand English. "Ok ok.. I will!" - I give in, very scared that
you might actually go on explaining everything in front of him.

"And are you gonna be a very good little girl, young lady?"

Murmuring and trying to hide lower - if only I could get under
the back seat! - I reply in a very soft voice: "Yes..."

"Yes WHAT?" The game started, I think for myself and my mind
starts racing, looking for a way out, trying to demonstrate that I can
be good. Scared like never before, anticipation killing me, I close
my eyes.
"Yes, Sir", the soft answer comes. I'm nervous.

"I couldn't hear that... " - you tease, pushing me to face the same
shame again.
Trembling, I grab your t-shirt in my fist. You feel my arousal,
my embarassment, and I think this turns you on. You have total control
over me, over my mind or my body. I finally manage to speak up:
"Yes, Sir!"
I'm sure I missed a smile there...

"That's my good girl! I won't have to spank you for this at least,
little one. But we have some unfinished business to take care of... Your nice bottom and I will have a little conversation."

The car is driving fast. I finally sit up and look to check
where we are. 10 minutes left. There are more knots in my stomach now.
Twisting on my seat, I stare at you. Your demeanour should give me clues
about your next plans. Do you still want to punish me? Rubbing my hands, I
realize how wet they got. The closer we get to the house, the stronger my
fear grows. I smirk. You smile, carressing my face with your fingers.

"What... what if I will be very good? Very VERY good? Are you still
gonna spank me?"

You nod. I panic even more. I need to find the way out NOW, before
we get home!

"What... what if... ummm... I promise never to do anything bad
again? I mean it! I can promise that! I will be very good!"

I feel the eyes of the driver fixing me. He's probably puzzled by
my whines, by the tone of my voice, by my mimic.

"I don't think that a promise will help you now, baby..." You tap
my hand comforting me. Anyway, there's nothing else I could promise.
The only thing I can do is beg. And I do. Then I switch to impressing you
with my miserable face. I fail. I finally resume to being silent.

"First I'm gonna bathe you and wash you very nicely..." - you start. "Then, I'll put your baby pijamas on and take you to the room.
I'll put you nicely on my lap, lower your panties and spank you with my
hand until I make sure you are going to obey."

I smirk one more time... Corners of my mouth are coming down, tears
are gathering into my eyes. "Please, you don't have to spank me for thaaaat...
I will be goooood!"
"We will see!... And you'd
better behave. If you hesitate for one second, I'll spank you again with
my belt! If you misbehave or back talk... or if you smirk, you will
get a double dose with the strap. And when I am done with you, you will
never think about talking for hours on the phone or using the net or
skipping school or teasing me again... Is that clear, little girl?" With
my eyes cast down and a huge knot in my throat I finally manage to mutter:

"Yes, Sir..." - I choke.

You stroke my hair and kiss my palm, my lips and my forehead.
"We're home," you announce, while I dive deeper into my seat.

Spanking Story: Morgan and Adam: El Nino (M/F)

2008-05-27T20:22:00.003+02:00

Here is another M/F story for you. And an Alex (M/m) story is in the 'setting the plot' stage right now.

Morgan and Adam:

EL NINO

Shivering with cold and fear, Morgan had walked two blocks from El Nino, only to realize that she could not find a safe ride home at 3 in the morning. She didn’t dare look behind to see if anybody was following her, but with each step she took her fear grew bigger and bigger, transforming into panic. Following the main avenue to be safe from muggers was not a solution, as she had thought; There were gangs piling up at the corners of the buildings, gangs that whistled after her and proposed nasty things to her, just because she was a woman.

The only smart answer to her troubles, answer which she had arrogantly dismissed five minutes ago, was to call Adam. But exposing a Nokia N96 edition in this neighborhood was as close to getting mugged as one could get. Yet she had no choice. So she prayed and she dialed.

And Adam picked up at the first ring.

“Where the heck are you? I called you five times already.” Pissed and worried he sounded and he had every right to be.

“Forget that now,” she said. “I need you to get me out of here.” She stopped under the yellow light of a street lamp, surveying the road for any suspicious behavior. She was so tensed, she run over and over in her mind a self-defense move in case someone would suddenly materialize with a knife behind her.

She heard Adam suddenly stand up from his couch, and she imagined him already picking out his jeans and trying to put them on with only one free hand.

“Where are you?” – he asked, his voice coming cut as he performed an accelerated ritual of getting dressed.

“I don’t know.”

The commotion at the other end of the line ceased.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? From where am I supposed to pick you up then?”

“I don’t know! I was in El Nino and I started walking home because I was scared to take a cab. I figured I could get out of the neighborhood fast. I can’t.”

“Where is Amanda?”

“They left around one.”

“No police car around to help you get somewhere safe?”

“Haven’t seen any, no. I don’t know what to do…”

“For how long have you been walking?”

“Five minutes…”

“Turn around and go wait for me in front of the club. Is your cell phone charged? You have enough battery to talk until you get there?”

“Yes.”
“Then don’t hang up. Talk to me. If anything suspicious happens, run. But run towards the club and wait for me there, around people. You got that?”

“Yes.”

She heard him grab the keys of the car then the entrance door was slammed shut. She began walking back, her eyes inspecting each hidden corner in her path.

“Adam, I am so scared.”

“It’s gonna be fine. I’m in the car now. I’ll put you on hands-free.” There was a small interruption then his voice came through the microphone, mixed with the purr of the car’s engine. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Maybe I should run. I’m really scared.”

“Then run.”

Adam had warned her other times: she had no business being in this place. She knew that. Cigarette in her hand and sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, she looked like she had no worry in this world. There were still groups of young people in front of the club, getting ready to leave. But they had come by cars – like Amanda, Jen, and her. The difference was that she was left without a ride. And when had Adam called, she didn’t answer, so he wouldn’t offer to come pick her up; so he wouldn’t know she had lied to him. And look at the irony of things: now she needed him. She inhaled another doze of smoke. The alcohol was still in her veins, but mostly in her head.

“Let’s go,” a voice startled her and she saw Adam standing tall besides her, car keys in his hand.

“I didn’t see you coming,” she said, slowly picking herself up and taking a last puff from her cigarette. She felt Adam’s eyes examining her face.

“You’re drunk.”

“Dizzy,” she corrected. “I sobered up after this experience.”

He didn’t reply, just began walking back to the car. She slid in the Ford next to him, without a word, and fastened her seat belt. The headlights were on, then the engine started, and in the familiar tangerine scent of the air sanitizer, Morgan began to relax.

Adam rolled up his shirt’s sleeves – the one he wore at work today and gave her a tired look. His ruffled hair ran into his dark eyes. “What the heck was all this about?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, playing with her tongue the ring piercing her lower lip. “I didn’t know it would be dangerous.”

“If I hadn’t told you a million times…”

“But I didn’t know!”

“The idea was that you weren’t supposed to find out. You were supposed to trust me when I told you it wasn’t safe.”

Morgan shrugged. “Now I know.”

“And you lied to me.”

“I had to. You wouldn’t let me go if you knew where I was going.”

“Of course I wouldn’t! I’ve been trying to reach you on the cell phone since twelve. You didn’t even bother to answer.”

Morgan sighed and sunk into her seat.

“I already said I was sorry. I was having a good time, right?”

“And I was dead worried at home.”

“You didn’t have to be.”

“It seems like I had my reasons to be. Obviously you cannot be trusted.”

“That’s crap.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning, Morgan, when you’re awake, don’t worry.”

The line seemed to cut her nagging mood. She stared stubbornly at the silent neighborhood as they stopped at the red light. They had reached James Carter Avenue and she could recognize the grand architecture of the buildings, even though she hadn’t seen this place before. She mused over his words.

“What do you mean,” she asked, without turning to look at him.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Maybe I don’t…” – she mumbled quietly.

It had started to rain. Big heavy drops splashed on the wind screen. Adam operated the wipers. She followed their hypnotic move as they gathered rivulets of rain in small ponds at the bottom of the windscreen.

Adam turned on the mp3 player and the car was filled with the heavy Japanese rock of the CD she had played in the car two days ago, on her way to work. The light turned green again, and he accelerated again into the dark.

“I mean you’re gonna get the spanking of your life for this,” he said suddenly, bringing the car into the fourth gear.

“That’s crap,” and as she said that she wondered why she hadn’t kept quiet.

The car suddenly halted. She tried to vanish in her seat. He wasn’t supposed to react like that – after all, she had only fed him a conversational line. It wasn’t a big deal. Adam’s raised eyebrows and his stern serious eyes fixed on her profile were telling though a different story.

“Care to repeat that, please?” – he invited.

She shook her head “no”.

“Do you think that after tonight I would have any trouble pulling you out of the car and spanking you? You think that just because you are in the middle of the street and not at home, you are invulnerable?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll probably be sorry sooner than you can imagine. Since you’re already up and with an attitude, we might as well stay up till morning and deal with it when we get home.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he shushed her. “I don’t want to hear another word. I’ve heard enough already,” he said, turning back to his driving.

The narrow street they were speeding on opened to an avenue again. The red McDonalds drive-in sign met her eyes - a spot of color between the dark buildings - a reminder that her lips were dry and she was thirsty. She sighed. If only they could stop by for a double cheeseburger and an extra large bag of potato wedges and a monstrous Cola Light. A quick look in his direction told her that bringing up the subject was a dangerous idea. Besides, they were almost home, and Adam seemed to get more determined and more awake as they got closer. She knew the whole story was eating him inside and that silence was her enemy. But saying something wrong might tick him off more.

“Such recklessness,” he finally said, unable to cope with the silence around him and the mad voices in his head. “You do many stupid things but this beats them all.”

“It was Amanda’s fault. She said it wasn’t dangerous.”

“Is she responsible for you or am I responsible for you, Morgan?”

“I am responsible for me.”

“No, you are not. You are reckless, just like I said. I don’t know in which reality you have moved lately, but I’ll bring you back to earth. And that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

“Adam…”

“Get out of the car,” he said, as he parked the Ford Focus in front of their house.

She knew that tone. She felt sick.

“Please… I already said I was sorry…”

“Out of the car, Morgan. Now.”

She hid deeper in her seat. He got out, went around the car, and opened her door. He leaned over her and unfastened her seat belt.

“Adam, this is not fair …”

His fingers wrapped around her arm and pulled her out. His right hand landed noisily on her Levi’s.

“Don’t, please…”

“You don’t argue with me, you hear me? You do as you’re told. I had enough of this attitude.” He planted a few more meaningful swats on her butt and sent her towards the door with an extra one, to get her thinking.

As she waited for him in front of the locked door, watching him lock the car and search for the house keys, millions of excuses run through her head. And she pushed them away, one by one, as none would help her tonight. Only God could, and God didn’t care if her butt would be purple by morning.

Pushing the door open, he nudged her in. Unlike other times, she bent down to unlace her sneakers, to steal some time. Behind her, Adam kicked off his own shoes, threw the car keys on the glass coffee table, and went upstairs, taking two stairs at a time.

Morgan watched him until his silhouette disappeared behind the corner upstairs, then, thirst being stronger than the creepy paralyzing feeling in her legs, she went for a bottle of water from the fridge. She couldn’t think straight. And all she wanted right now was to collapse on the bed, couch, or even floor, and sleep. She could sleep till tomorrow evening without budging in her sleep – she knew she could.

The bubbly water refreshed her mouth and senses.

She heard Adam’s giant footsteps, fast, furious, covering the distance from upstairs to the living room in less than three seconds. Then, again, he was behind her, and his iron grip was on her arm as he twisted her around. Gracefully, he took the empty bottle from her hand, placed it on the counter, and forced her torso onto the white kitchen table.

She caught the glimpse of the wooden hairbrush and her voice cracked.

“Not the hairbrush. I hate the hairbrush… Pleaseee…”

His hands reached in front of her, unbuttoned her low-cut jeans and pulled them to her knees, with an artful move. The underwear joined them.

She tried to move, but his palm, firmly pressed on her back, glued her cheek to the table.

“Keep your hands flat on the table, Morgan,” he warned, when she tried to reach back to cover her butt.

“Adam-“

“This is the last time you lie to me,” he said. The hairbrush landed noisily. The pain was abrupt, concentrated in one spot. Then it began spreading, helped by another hard swat on the other cheek.

“El Nino?” Three cracks; three howls of pain. He stopped to lecture, watching a multitude of expressions dance on her face. “You ignore my warnings and go to the most dangerous neighborhood. You refuse the ride home when Amanda leaves and you don’t answer my calls. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“No.”

The hairbrush came down again, turning her white skin to red.

“I just want to know what the heck goes through your mind when you act like this?”

More hard swats and no chance to articulate words, only vocalize pain. Her knuckles turned as white as the edge of the table when she gripped it.

“What do you do from now on when I tell you not to go somewhere, Morgan?”

“I don’t go,” the prompt answer came from behind gritted teeth.

“Damn straight you don’t.”

He went on assaulting her cheeks until she dissolved into tears and her apologies lost coherence.

“Stand up,” he said, removing his hand from her back. She pushed herself up gingerly, legs frozen from the uncomfortable position, butt burning with searing pain.

“Do I have to do this again, Morgan? Because if I have to, this will seem like a walk in the park compared to next time.”

She choked a “no”, and reached out for him. She had gotten over the shock of pain and was acknowledging the aftershock of the panic attack she’d experienced tonight. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t do this to me again, you hear me? Ever. Do you know how scared I was? How would you feel if it was I the one doing this to you?”

“I’m sorry. I swear it won’t happen again. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He kissed her forehead.

“Let’s get you washed and let’s go to bed.”

She stepped back, allowing him to pull up her panties and jeans.

“I was so scared,” she went on sobbing hard, unable to stop herself.

“I know, sweety. But it’s ok now.”

He stood up again, and hugged her head to his chest. “You’re safe now. It’s ok.”

The daylights were already breaking outside when she could finally stop her sobbing.

Vanillas and Their Innocent Spanking-Free World

2008-05-25T10:42:00.008+02:00

I was reading, on Haron's and Abel's blog, about "Electric Paddles". After quoting from a vanilla blog, Haron says "by Naomi, to whom I don’t link to avoid freaking her out".

And she is right. I can't stop giggling at how sick we spankos are.

Sometimes, I get tired of reading spankings told from a spanko perspective and I search the blogs for vanilla stories. It's interesting to note that while Juju - like many other spankos - are still tormented by feelings of anger and frustration when recalling childhood spankings, the vanillas barely remember them. I even remember an occasional swat and feel embarassed by it! Does it have to do with our spanko minds? It has to. In all the occasional conversations I had with vanillas about spankings received while they were kids I've never seen a glimpse of remorse or hard feelings. The other day, one of my friends was telling us that he was getting spanked probably once every 24 hours for being naughty. And he could laugh about it. And when he said that, the whole group joined in telling stories of their spankings - except for me. I'm not vanilla.

I also remember, in my childhood, that one of my cousins was getting it regularly and good. He had no trouble speaking of it and even giving me details. I was freaked out.

I am beginning to believe that spanking is a great deal to us, adults, who have some kind of spanking fetish. The rest of people - they don't give a shit anymore and everything looks normal and forgotten.

Poll: Vote

2008-05-20T19:45:00.004+02:00

Right now I can listen to feedback and ideas - as in, I might be in the mood to think of something, and maybe start writing in 2-3 weeks or so.

I added a poll on the right side of this window and I invite you to vote. Let me know what you want to see next. If you haven't read any of my stories, then there is no point in voting, really.

Thanks for your help!

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Morgan and Adam: The Ride (M/F)

2008-05-19T21:46:00.005+02:00

THE RIDE

Tonight

Morgan hated hot evenings in May. For some reason she could never understand why her body reacted so treacherously to the unexpected heat. The stomach ache had gotten her t-shirt smelly and perspired in less than thirty minutes. Maybe she was trying to hard to hide from Adam her biggest secret – but even so, in winter, for example, she rarely had stomach aches.

She locked the bathroom door, ran the cold tap water. Avoiding her own accusing gaze in the mirror, she began soaping her hands frantically, like a surgeon getting ready for an operation. What she had done was not stupid, but Adam wouldn’t agree - one solid reason why he should not find out. She paused to peek through her cut jeans at the wound on her knee: The blood had stopped flowing but the scratch was huge. So were the other scratches, but maybe, if she took two pills of vitamin C each morning and rubbed in that cream she had purchased, they would heal in a week. Careful not to injure herself further or cause more blood to surge, she peeled off her jeans, all the way to her ankles, stepped out of them and threw them in the pile of dirty clothes.

The scent of cologne dissolved into the air, sharpening her mind. She rubbed furiously the alcohol on her wounded knee, embracing the pain, watching mesmerized as the scratch marks reopened, allowing light colored blood to emerge again.

“If it hurts, it means it kills the microbes”, she repeated aloud the mantra. Hard, she pressed the compress against her leg, allowing the burn to numb the feeling in her knee. The wave of pain would wash away her anxiousness. With trembling hands, hooked on her pain and disinfecting obsession, she spilled more alcohol onto the other wounds. Pain was something she needed. It wasn’t a complete cure, but it was as good as any over-the-counter pill was for her wrecked nerves. It was soothing.

“Now, whatever you do this week, do not let him see the wounds. Do not let him see the wounds or else, girlie, you are in such big shit…” She stared at her own face in the mirror. “You are such an idiot,” she added, sighing.

She began wrapping the sterile compresses in a bag. The bag landed in the trash bin. The job was done.

Sitting on the toilet lid, her shaky fingers reached for the cigarette pack. The smoke poured into her lungs and the nicotine straight to her nerves, intoxicating. She could definitely hide this. Adam will never find out.

Friday Evening

“Do you want to go swimming tomorrow morning?”

On the couch, Adam had gathered her in his arms, while they were watching “Brainiac” on Discovery.

She shook her head. “I’m really tired. I’m not in the mood.”

“But you like swimming.”

“Usually. Not now though.”

He kissed her forehead and she smiled. His fingers began rubbing her tensed shoulders.

His eyes questioned her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why does anything have to be wrong? I’m just not in the mood and I know you are. Or else you wouldn’t rub.”

“You’re a bit unfair.”

She shrugged.

Hell, she was in the mood, but giving in now meant getting naked, and since two plus two make four, this would lead to her getting a spanking for those scratches. And probably not only for that...

“Let’s take a shower then. It will help you relax.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

He sighed, but gave up the subject.

Saturday Afternoon

Morgan glanced up. It is weird to wake up from your afternoon nap on the living room couch because you feel watched. The room had been all too quiet.

On the opposite chair, “The Last Continent” on his knees, Adam fixed her.

“Feeling better? Cold has passed?” – he asked, his eyes all of a sudden serious.

Lost between two foggy worlds, she nodded her head, but couldn’t suppress the feeling that something was wrong.

“Great,” he said, not a muscle contracting on his face. “Because you have some explaining to do.”

In her stomach, a ball of pain was growing again. She looked back at him, puzzled by this unexpected remark.

“Get up,” he added, placing the book on the coffee table. He stood up, pulling the quilt off her.

A glance down was enough for her to discover her stupidly exposed knee. She had managed to twist enough in her sleep to roll up her PJ’s until they had uncovered the bruised knee. Her look shifted uncontrolled to the forearm; she had performed the act of exposing the injuries twice.

She sat up gingerly. Her mouth was dry, her tongue was dry, her throat was drying.

“Up, Morgan, up!” Adam waited next to her. She could see his bare feet sinking into the red carpet.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she mumbled.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, allowing her to stand up. “Lift your arms,” he ordered.

“Adam, it’s just a scratch…”

He paused only to glare at her. His look made her scowl.

She lifted her arms and he pulled the sweatshirt over her head, revealing a couple of red and purple bruises on her arms and on her hip. She looked at them too, hoping - praying - that unexpected magic would have made them vanish.

Without a word, he grabbed the sides of her pajamas bottoms and pulled them to her ankles. The nastiest scratch was still there, on her knee. The blood crust has just formed, but her itchy fingers had already been at it, peeling it off.

“Care to explain?” – he looked up at her and stood up slowly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Her tongue played the ring on her pierced lip.

“I fell.” She swallowed the knot which wouldn’t go away.

He twisted her and smacked her thigh once. The fingerprints flushed red on her fair skin.

“Try again,” he invited, hands reaching for his buckle. She watched, shivers running down her spine and rooting her to the ground. Adam’s hands began sliding the belt out of the loops.

“Yes, Morgan? I’m listening.”

“It was… umm… I fell from a motorcycle.”

He could have expected anything, as in ‘anything bad’ - because if Morgan wants to hide something, it cannot be good. But the word ‘motorcycle’ managed to get his full attention.

“Motorcycle?”

“Yeah, Spencer got one and allowed us to ride it.”

“You rode a motorcycle? Without protection? Without knowing how to?”

“Well, he explained –“

“Morgan! You got on a motorcycle and rode it on your own?”

“I was just doing what everyone else did. And it’s not hard.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“How dangerous can it be?”

Confronting Adam and playing dumb had never been a smart move, unless you hoped to win a trip over his knee and get your ass spanked thoroughly. He stared at her, aware of her bluff.

His finger rose to point to the distant corner.

“Now, Morgan. Put your nose into that corner. When you have calmed down, you can come out.”

“I am calm. You might need some calming down, however.”

The next moment she was bent under Adam’s arm, getting to taste a few licks of the belt.

She cried.

He stopped.

“You might want to rephrase your last statement,” he suggested, not releasing his grip on her. He looked back at the mass of hair running down over her face.

“I’m sorry,” she offered with the tone of someone ready to say anything that was expected without wanting to lose face. So Adam took the words for what they were – a stubborn refusal to accept the guilt and to display remorse.

“And this is not even the spanking for your joyride,” Adam mused, continuing to smack her bottom hard. Her frantic legs managed to kick away the pajamas bottoms.

“I’m sorry,” she whined again, with more feeling.

Not fully convinced, he released her waist, placing her in front of him. If she was to look straight at him she would stare at his neck. She had to look up to see his eyes. He raised his eyebrows at her, expectantly: she walked towards the corner, as dignified as she could, given her situation.

Her senses opened. She closed her eyes, diving into darkness, listening intensely to all the small sounds she was no other time aware of. The furniture creaked, and she heard the sound of the belt being placed on the table. The next sound was of Adam picking up the book and sitting back into his chair. And then nothing, only her breathing, her own hard swallowing, or the engine of a distant car passing on the road. A few pages turned. And his voice, corrupting the silence, startled her:

“That’s enough. Come here.”

In her chest, the heart began thumping. She felt it even in her stomach. She stopped in front of him, inspecting the carpet.

“Let me see your arms.” It didn’t feel like an order, but she knew better than to say ‘no’.

She extended them sideways, in an attempt to hide a bigger crime. There was a slim chance that he would not see them, for the lighting was not that sharp in the room and the sun had already crossed the sky towards the western windows.

She only looked up because if he was to notice something, she wanted to witness the instant change on his features. Adam’s brows wrinkled and he stared at her forearm long enough to make her nervous; then, as if realization dawned on him, he grabbed her other forearm. Please tell me that I’m not seeing this, his face seemed to say. But once the shock wiped out his face, he looked up at her slowly.

“What are these?” – he asked, his patience hiding the storm.

She was on the edge. She took a safe dive. “Scratches from when I fell.” Such a good lie it could have fooled even herself. But evidence is evidence:

“Morgan, these are cuts.”

There was silence.

“They are?” Such a stupid reply. The right answer would have been - in a normal situation and with a clear head – ‘are you stupid, what do you mean cuts, you might want to have your eye-sight checked by a professional’. The question ‘They are’ might have been pronounced like a straight-out confession – it didn’t make a difference.

“When and why?”

“What do you mean?” Yes, this was more like it. Playing dumb might still save her butt. And save her the shame of confessing to what she has done.

“If you make me repeat one more time a question, Morgan, you will be in tears before I start spanking you for the motorcycle issue and for these,” he said, pointing at them. “Look at me.”

His eyes were not comforting.

“When did you do this and why? Does it have anything to do with your drastic change in appearance? I can tolerate that. But I will never allow you to hurt yourself.”

“What’s wrong with cutting yourself?”

“Why would you cut yourself?”

She raised her shoulders. Not in the mood to explain, it’s enough embarrassment for one day, she seemed to say.

“I was angry. I needed to calm down.”

“It looks like it was more than a 10 seconds punch in the wall…”

“Calming down took longer than that. I was so focused on the pain and not cutting too deep that it made me relax.” And then tending on her cuts. The burn of the alcohol. The view of the cuts turning from a white dash, to a red one. The swelling.

“You mean to tell me that you needed a spanking but instead of coming to ask for it you went for cutting yourself?”

“Is there a difference between you giving me what I need and me, taking it myself? From a psychological point of view?”

Adam shook his head, almost amused.

“Yes. On a deeper level it definitely is. If you want to talk psychology here, we will, and you know you would lose the battle because reason is on my side. Spanking keeps you organized and focused and is not done with a sharp… whatever this was.”

“It serves the same cause.”

He fixed her eyes and she met his gaze without blinking.

“I’ll show you the difference between the two right now, don’t worry.”

She couldn’t understand how he could move so fast from standing up, to having her over his knee, on the couch. The boy shorts she was wearing slid down, stopping the move of her legs.

“Next time you need a spanking,” he announced, his hand coming down rhythmically, “you ask for a spanking. You do not cut yourself or do other dumb stuff. You come and you ask, you hear me?”

She nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat.

“You need to talk about something, you talk. Is that clear for you?”

“Yes Sir.”

The spanking proceeded without further comments. Morgan stiffened her body, trying to control the pain. She wriggled, hoping that this one single time Adam would miss the sore spots. But instead, the smacks were piling up on her sit spot. The attempt to cover her butt failed when both her hands were brought to the small of her back; she was left with nothing to bite onto, nothing to put her face into to muffle her cries.

“Is the difference between self-mutilation and spanking obvious to you now?”

The nod was not what Adam wanted and he marked his unhappiness with sharper slaps on her thighs.

“Yes. Yes. It’s clear.”

“What happens next time you feel angry, frustrated, or in need for a punishment?”

“I ask for it.”

“Exactly. That is exactly what you will do, or else, when I get my hands on you, you won’t know what hit you.”

Her breathe quickened, and he felt the sobs shaking her back under his hand.

“Stand up,” he ordered, without giving her time to quiet down. “And get your ass back into the corner. Think about the difference between cutting yourself and spanking. And you can also think about the one hundred lines you will write for me tonight. Don’t look at me; look at the wall. Right.”

She couldn’t think about the difference now. She wouldn’t. If it had been the right choice she wouldn’t have wanted to hide it from Adam. The sobs became sparser. The sniffling went on, until Adam came to her with a paper towel, inviting her to blow her nose.

“I should have been more open to the signs you were giving. I should have spanked you in the first place, when you shouted at me last week. How many times have you done this before, without telling me?”

She didn’t answer. She opened her eyes to stare at the while wall.

“I haven’t done it in years. But remember that time we had your parents over and I got really mad? That’s when I started. I needed to relax.”

“I could have taken you for a walk to have a talk, if only you had told me.”

“I didn’t want you to know. I can handle things myself.”

“Hell, I can see that!” He didn’t care about hiding the sarcasm. She didn’t comment on it.

He moved slowly behind her, close enough for his mouth to sharpen the words in her ear: “Do I have to check you arms from now on, Morgan?”

“No Sir.” – she whispered.

“Better not. Or else, this ass,” he added, clasping a hand on her red behind, “will be sorer than it’s ever been.”

The footsteps echoed as he strode to the kitchen. When the drawer opened, she already knew what he was looking for. She wished she could cry. But squeezing her eyes tight together didn’t help. Her fear was the attention grabber for her senses. She could smell it.

“Come here, please,” he called.

The legs of a chair scratched noisily the parquet. She followed the voice and found him sitting on that darn chair, wooden spoon in his hand. He extended his left hand. It wasn’t an invitation to dance. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her small body over his knees.

“Riding motorcycles is a “no”. You knew it when you entered this relationship. Not a ‘maybe’: a ‘no’. And riding by yourself – that is a crime. If you want adrenaline, here is your dose.”

Any wooden implement hurts. But for Morgan the wooden spoon seemed to hurt more than anything she has ever felt. One solid smack did not mean one pain, but a thousand of small and vicious stings, spreading all over her bottom, and hanging in there, waiting for more pain to pile up on top of them. And there was no break allowing the pain to subdue. Her hands grasped his pants and the chair legs. The high-pitched cries dried her throat. She didn’t plead not even once, only wailed and voiced her agony in an attempt to sooth the pain. But nothing could stop the pain, expect for Adam. And Adam was not finished with her. The spoon worked its way towards her thighs. This was not only about the motorcycle. It was more and she knew it. It was about her own rage, caused by god-knows-what; it was about her new piercing and her new haircut and her new attitude. About sassing him.

Her body collapsed, giving up the fight. And Adam stopped, allowing her to roll off his lap, on her knees. He cupped her head and planted a kiss on her forehead and her arms reached for his neck.

He sat down on the floor, cuddling her, until her crying stopped.

“You’re just stressed. We’ll get over it together.”

She nodded.

“I’m tired,” she whispered.

“We can nap on the couch if you want,” he indulged her.

She smiled at him, her teary eyes shining happily. She loved afternoon naps, with him, on the couch.

I Broke a Record

2008-05-17T21:05:00.004+02:00

I wouldn't be posting now if I didn't get spanked this morning. I haven't been much into spanking lately - let's just say that my moods vary wildly and I have some other fascinating things happening in my life right now who use my brain even at night. But not being into a spanking mood does not mean that your kink has died. Hell, no!

Out of blue sky, Jack decided today that a spanking would be a good idea - to calm himself down and calm me down. Hand is what we mostly do and today was no different. Except that a particular sharp slap landed on the inside of my leg, a few times. It burnt. You feel the prickles on those sensitive areas - most of you know that. You feel the meat burning, swelling. It's nice.

All through the spanking I kept my sense of humor. And I was very talkative - with small funny interruptions when the pain stopped my brain from articulating thoughts and words. I am a very fast speaker - in any language you want, I speak fast. So today I broke the record of finishing a sentence in over one minute. ;) Hell, I don't see that happening again - unless spanked again, of course.

Peace!

Privacy

2008-04-26T23:29:00.004+02:00

You don't miss it much until you lose it for a few weeks. That is my case and Jack's. My parents have been around for like two-three weeks, helping us (a LOT) with the re-construction work in our appartment. We desperately need a bit of privacy.

The previous story I wrote went out worse than expected - it's not a disaster but not the total success I had in mind, either. While I explained to Eric in an email (even though he knew better than I) what went wrong, now I have the feeling that that was not all. I think the main explanation is that writing a spanking story with people constantly asking you questions and talking around you and passing behind you turns creation into a struggle. It showed.

Last night I began another story, M/F this time, and almost finished it. I had again the feeling that I couldn't dive into the world I was creating for the same reason: inability to focus because of too many people moving around. (*grumbling* And It happens again right now!)

Honestly, I was planning on finishing my story tonight but after a six-hour drive I am pretty tired. And my eyes are closing. And having 6 people around, not 3, makes it even worse.

Anyway, today I got into this funny cuddling mood in the morning. I was desperate for some attention. And therefore, I was hyper. Jack and I finally caught about 40 minutes alone, if not less, and I wanted to cuddle. It seems that my definition of cuddle also comprises biting, kissing, and doing all sorts of weird things which Jack understood as a sign that I needed the other special kind of attention. So I got a good hand-spanking, enough to make my butt red. He couldn't go further because we were expecting my Dad to get back home (we were preparing for the 6 hours drive). It helped. A red butt helps your mind clear. This morning I could have taken a lot, honestly.

I will spare you the details of what followed because, for some reason, I don't like writing about what can happen (and almost always happens) after a spanking but we were in the middle of it when we heard the door and my Dad came in. I had time to pull up my pants and Jack had time to calm himself down - if you know what I mean. *eg* But we continued and finished our work in the bathroom. Probably we were both too loaded to just drop it. It was a very akward moment for us but we do hope that my Dad hasn't got a clue what the fuck was going on.

Anyway... I might be in the mood for a spanking again. But then when ain't I? hehe

Spanking Story: Alex 8: The Sling (F/f, M/m)

2008-04-21T20:12:00.004+02:00

The Sling

Sheriff Norton nodded, saluted her briefly, and walked away. Clara’s thin profile remained in the frame of the door, still playing his words in her head.

“The lady will not press any charges, but she wanted to make sure that the parents found out,” the sheriff had said. “I may be wrong, but when I was driving my car today, I saw your son and your daughter, with their friend, taking a walk on the main street and gathering rocks. And the lady's description of their clothing was correct… Besides,” he had added, extending his left hand towards the dusty road, “it also happened right there, on the main road“. Sheriff Morris had avoided her eyes. Bringing the news was hard and Clara knew why – Dr. Pierce, her husband, had always been a call away when any of the sheriff’s family members had been sick. Jack Pierce had also operated on the sheriff’s sick mother.

Slowing closing the door, Clara gathered her thoughts. With the corner of her eye, she could see the tiny silhouette hiding on the stairs, behind the white balusters.

“Ashley, come here, Missy,” she called. “I know you’re there.”

The figure moved, peeking from behind the banister's vase-shaped supports.

“Mommy, it wasn’t me. It was Alex,” – the girl said. No denying: thank you, Lord; She was confessing everything, without much questioning. Unlike Alex. And Clara relaxed knowing that Ashley would tell on her brother without blinking an eye. As for Alex, she could never get him to talk. Only Jack could.

“Did you or didn’t you throw rocks at the cars?”

Ashley considered.

“I didn’t hit any, though…” She said in the smallest and softest voice she had. “I’m sorry, Mommy.” Her eyes searched the floor and the blond hair ran into her face, covering her tears.

“It was very wrong what you did. I’m sure you know that.”

The girl nodded. You know such things when you are 7, but you do them anyway. In the same way in which Alex knew, at 11, but couldn’t care less.

Clara unleashed her long blond hair from the pony tail, brushed it off her face, and gathered it again to the back of her head. How would Jack handle this? He would talk to Ashley, spank her, ground her. She couldn’t bring herself to do that. She looked at a contrite Ashley – so small and innocent – standing on the stairs. The child was close to tears.

“Go wait for me in your room,” she said. Clearing her mind and acting like an adult was a priority. And she couldn’t do it with her daughter watching.

“Mommy, noo…” The child knew.

“Now, young lady.”

The small foot steps echoed as Ashley ran to her room.

And it was supposed to be a vacation, Clara thought, rubbing her temples with two shaky fingers. She checked the clock, and it was only 5, and Jack would be back from shopping probably by 6. And where the heck was Alex? She hadn’t seen him since morning; he had skipped lunch even. The weather had been splendid, but she had spent all day in the kitchen, cooking for tomorrow evening’s party. And Jack had been helping around cleaning the house. And the kids… the kids had run wildly. And on Alex one should keep an eye or he would always get himself – and his sister – in trouble. What happened today should teach both her and Jack one or two things about parenting.

Alex throwing rocks at passing cars was easy to picture. It was impossible to create such an image for Ashley, though.

She brought herself to walk upstairs for the discussion with her daughter. She passed by the bathroom, to pick from a mahogany cabinet the wooden hairbrush, and walked in Ashley’s room. She found the child sitting on the bed, crying.

“Don’t spank me, Mommy,” she pleaded. Big teary eyes were fixing Clara.

“I’m sorry, Sweety, but you can’t just start throwing rocks at cars and people and not get punished for it.”

“Just ground me like you did other times…”

“I’m afraid I can’t. This is far too serious.”

Clara came next to her daughter, hairbrush hanging heavy in her hand. “Common,” she said, taking Ashley’s hand and sitting herself on the bed, child in front of her. The girl didn’t need a spanking to get her crying. She was already there.

“Common, Ashley, quit stalling. Do you want your Dad to take care of this?”

The child shook her head and went over Clara’s lap, leaving the mother in an uncomfortable situation. The thin shorts offered little protection and Clara decided against taking them down.

“Don’t bring your hands back...”

The child nodded again, rubbing her red eyes.

The descent was not hard, yet the pace was fast. One sharp stroke of the hairbrush got Ashley’s feet into motion and Clara had to pin Ashley’s restless hands to the small of her back. Spanking Ashley was harder than she had expected. It was not like swatting her butt once or twice – it was a struggle. The brush hit the round spot about ten times and Clara found herself crying as her own daughter hissed and struggled with the pain. She picked the weeping child up, and wrapped her arms around her.

“Clara? Kids?” – Jack’s voice called from downstairs.

“Up here!” – Clara responded, still rocking softly her daughter. “You know that spanking you hurts me,” she whispered. “Why on earth would you do such a stupid thing?”

“Alex and Josh were also doing it. And it was fun.”

“That’s not a reason, Ashley, honey…”

Jack remained rooted to the ground, in the doorway, surprised at the scene. The smile had turned into an anxious look.

“Everything all right?” The worried tone surfaced even when he tried to hide it. “Are you two ok?”

“Fine, honey,” Clara said, wiping her eyes. “Ashley has something to confess.”

Jack raised his eyebrows to his daughter. “Let’s hear it, then.” His crossed arms were not a good sign.

The girl shifted nervously on her mother’s lap.

“Common, honey, tell Daddy what you did.”

The small fingers played nervously with her Buggs Bunny imprinted t-shirt.

“Alex and I slang rocks at passing cars this morning…”

Jack’s eyes widened.

“And Alex hit a car’s tail lights. By mistake” – she added fast, hoping this would diminish the guilt of telling on her brother.

Jack suppressed the “Did what?” cry, hanging in his throat.

“You’re in trouble,” was what came out instead.

“But Mommy spanked me already!” – Ashley cried fast, the small voice becoming high-pitched and desperate.

Clara nodded.

“In which case you are grounded.” – Jack added, matter-of-factly. “Downstairs right now and put your nose into the corner. Now. Don’t look at your mother and don’t try to milk sympathy from me; for something like this you won’t get any. You know better. Downstairs. Now.” His pointed finger seemed to vibrate in the tensed air.

There were no protests on Ashley’s side.

When they were alone, Jack asked the question which was twisting his brain. “You spanked her?”

“I did. And it wasn’t easy.”

“I do it so you don’t have to.” – Jack sighed. “You can’t handle it and you become a mess. At least I try to control my feelings.”

He wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her lips. “Thanks, though… I can handle Alex because I know how a boy feels. But with Ashley… It’s unfair to say it-”

“It’s easier with Alex. I know.”

“Where is he, anyway?”

Clara almost shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since morning - you know, when you saw him last… Oh, I forgot to mention: the sheriff came. That’s how I found out.”

Jack stood up, thought for a moment, looking blank. “He might be at Adam’s house, playing with Josh. Did you call?”

“Nope.”

“Ok, let’s go downstairs, see how Ashley’s coping with her situation, and then I’ll try and call Adam to check on Alex.”

***

Alex saw Ashley first, sitting on the floor with a coloring book in front of her and a bunch of crayons lying around. Her puffy red eyes triggered his defense mechanism. The thought that something else might have been the reason for her crying was not strong enough to stick to his mind.

Jack popped in the living room from the kitchen, holding a kitchen towel in his hand. Alex took off his shoes slowly, waiting for any word from his parents that might give away his current situation. He didn’t have to wait long.

“What time is it, Alex?” Jack asked, drying his hands with a kitchen towel. No reply came from his son. Jack disappeared into the kitchen and appeared again in the living room, hands in his pockets. He measured his son from head to toes: his dirty hands, his mud-stained face, the dusty t-shirt and khakis. A small branch was still hanging in his dark hair and he had managed to scratch his arm again. The look in the boy’s green eyes, when he confronted his Dad’s, was guiltless.

“I was fishing but I couldn’t catch anything all day and then we started catching more fish towards evening so I stayed more.” “I’m sorry.” – he added fast, checking closely his Dad’s reaction.

“That’s all you’ve been doing today?”

“I guess so.”

Ashley looked up and in her face Alex felt the danger of the upcoming storm. She had started picking up her crayons and gathering her coloring books and papers.

“You guess so?” – Jack asked again, arms crossed.

That was the kind of question his Dad would ask when he knew. Alex looked down. “Dad, I’m hungry,” he whispered. Which he was.

“Ashley, go help your Mom in the kitchen, Sweety,” Jack turned to his daughter.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Alex could tell she was happy to be out of the room. But he was hungry. He didn’t care about how hungry he was; until now. At that very point he felt the hunger as unbearable. He felt the hunger tightening his stomach into a tensed small ball.

“I’m hungry,” he whined again, rubbing his eyes.

“And tired. And whiney.” – Jack added staring at his son who was still at the entrance, not daring to come any closer to his father. “Which is what you get when you stay out all day, running wild and skipping lunches. It’s past your curfew and past our dinner time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Go take a shower and change your clothes, please. The sheriff passed by today and we’re going to have a little talk about it tonight.”

Agony was painted on Alex’s face. The word ‘sheriff’ was enough to startle him; he looked at his Dad, as if questioning the truth of the statement.

“I didn’t do anything,” he began.

“Stop whining and go wash.”

As Alex slid past his Dad, Jack swatted his bottom hard. “Fast!” – Jack added, watching the boy rubbing his bottom and his tired eyes.

Jack turned his gaze to Clara, who had finished emptying the dish washer and was setting the table for Alex. “After I talk to him,” Jack told her.

“But he’s hungry, Jack. He didn’t have anything to eat today.”

“I doubt he would be able to swallow anything right now. When we’re done he will be more relaxed. Trust me.”

She sighed. “If you say so… I hope you know what you’re saying.”

Ten minutes later Alex came downstairs, dressed in his blue pajamas bottoms and in a dark blue t-shirt. His sight had grown accustomed to the floor, as he had been studying it intensely for the past few minutes. From the kitchen table, Jack saw him coming and met him in the doorway. He stared patiently at the slim small figure in front of him.

“Do you have anything to say to me, Alex?” – Jack questioned.

There was no answer. The clink of dishes and cutlery being moved around in the kitchen had also ceased.

“What were you doing this afternoon on the road, Alex? With Josh and Ashley?”

Alex shook his head “no”. He rubbed his eyes again and his lip began trembling on its own will.

“It won’t happen again,” he replied as Jack had paused allowing for the silence between them to grow. “We were just playing and it happened.”

“This did not happen by accident. You can’t tell me that you were shooting rocks at cars by accident?”

“But I didn’t mean to hit them…”

“No, you mean to tell me that you were shooting at them to miss them, right?”

“We were playing…”

“Playing is not hitting cars with rocks. Not to mention that you are not allowed to play on the main street.”

“But there are hardly any cars passing on that street, Dad!...”

“That is not the point. The point is you had no business to be there in the first place. And second, you do not – do NOT – throw rocks at passing cars, animals, people, or whatever else. That is the point. Am I making myself clear?”

“But how come Josh can be on the main street and I can’t?”

“What Josh does is his business and his parents’ business, even though I am quite sure his Dad wouldn’t approve of him playing on the street.”

“But there are no cars on the street!”

Alex stomped his foot and pouted. Jack grabbed his arm before any protest could come out, spun him around and smacked his bottom hard a few times. The kid arched his back in reply and his hand covered his bottom.

“Young man, you do not argue with me.”

“I’m sorreee…”

More sharp slaps landed.

“And you certainly do not stomp and pout!”

“Daddy I swear it won’t happen again please don’t spank me Daddy please!…” Behind the darkness of his closed eyes Alex could feel the distinct sting of his father’s handprints on his behind.

Jack walked an unwilling Alex to the couch. The kid tried to resist but another smack got him moving and whining.

“I won’t do it again. Daddy, I promise....”

“I’ll show you throwing rocks at cars and being late home.”

He removed his belt, doubled it, and sat himself on the couch, dragging Alex in front of him. “Pull your pajamas bottoms down, please,” he added patiently, fixing his son. Alex was crying already so asking him again was no good; it would only raise the frustration. Jack pulled Alex closer and did the work himself. Then took his arm and pulled the boy over his knees.

Silence engulfed the room before the belt landed. Only three licks, and then it stopped; but Alex was crying hard by now, both his hands locked behind his back under his Dad’s firm grip.

“Why am I spanking you, Alex?”

“I threw rocks at cars… But I won’t do it again, Dad. I promise. I swear.”

“And I want that sling you've been using tonight, understood?”

“Yes, Dad.”

The belt landed a couple more times and the butt began turning red. Jack stopped. A knot had formed in his throat. He knew how hard it had been for Clara to spank Ashley. Alex was wailing, unaware that the spanking had stopped. Jack lifted his son up, on his lap, and wiped his eyes. He pulled up slowly the kid’s PJ’s bottoms. In his chest, Alex went on sobbing. He was aware only later on that Jack had taken him to the bathroom, to wash his face, and then carried him again downstairs, to the kitchen. By now he had calmed down but the sting in his butt was still there.

Ashley was already in bed. But Clara, in the kitchen, was still warming some chicken soup with noodles. She kissed his hot forehead.

“You stupid little boy, you,” she whispered.

Jack watched silently, shaking his head, speaking to no one in particular:

“What am I gonna do with you when you grow up, Alex?”

The kid looked up from his plate, innocent look in his eyes: “But I’ll be good, Dad.”

Jack only laughed. Fuck - he was in trouble.

Question about Writing

2008-03-31T20:33:00.006+02:00

I have to know this. It's, of course, a matter of preference, but just indulge me: when writing or imagining a spanking scene, what's your favorite moment:

the set-up of the scene, with the 'chat' before the spanking and the ritual of getting undressed, etc;
the spanking itself;
the aftermath, with its mixed feelings - the wrap-up, in other words.

I usually see first the big picture, the emotion, the reaction of the characters in this scene. I know how the dialog will go (and anyone reading any of my stories knows that I am a dialog freak) and I see the emotions playing on the characters' faces.

Then I might see a bit of the spanking scene - which tells me the implement, the location, and the way the characters will react during the spanking.

When I am pleased with the two things above, I look for what might have caused the incident. Sometimes I see the incident before I see any of the above, but usually I start with the moment the person gets caught get handed.

The ending plays itself naturally while I write and many times I change my mind as I write along. Sometimes - like the next day - I remember I wanted to add extra dialog or an extra scene somewhere and I go back to it. But that happens rarely since I usually write and post the story the same day.

And while I'm writing, I am constatly seeing the next scene. I write for what will follow. And my energy is extremely high until I reach the spanking itself. This is where I pause for a long time. Writing the spanking is not coming that naturally to me. In my eyes, there isn't much place for playing here. It kills the fun. In how many ways can you describe the way the belt falls, the pain, the tears, the cries? A scene describing a spanking is of no interest to me even when I read a spanking story - I need the dialog. I need to see the spanking, hear it, smell it even. I guess I am the visual generation. It has to do with the setting too - I like stories which are set in modern families; I am not attracted in the slightest to the Victorian times, etc.

I also like writing the ending. But by the time I reach this point I am exhausted.

Sometimes I look for words to describe what I see and what I feel; sometimes I find them, sometimes I don't. To make the connection between your brain and your words work you need a lot of reading and writing and then more reading and more writing. If I don't read (a book, I mean) for two weeks, I already feel that something is seriously wrong with my writing. Even so, I go on until I finish the story.

Then there are those states of mind when everything unwrappes smoothly and each piece finds its place in the puzzle of the story. If I am tired, I can't reach this state.

And I write best when I am not tired, obviously, either early in the morning, or late at night.

What about you?

Spanking Stories

2008-03-31T20:22:00.004+02:00

Hey folks,

I've just posted another Alex spanking story. Last night I was going to start an M/F one, but then I realized that I had started this M/m about a month ago and never got to finish it. I was in the mood last night, so I worked on it. I was still trapped in its spirit - which is what you want when you decide to write or rewrite.

Anyway, I will start working on the other one probably tomorrow, since today I am exhausted from work. And I have one more in my head - another Alex story, but placed at a time when Alex was about nine years old. I doubt I will get much audience for it but as you know, sometimes I don't care about audience - I only care about writing. Besides, I *know* for a fact that the rare audience searching for M/m spanking stories is not very priviledged given that the net doesn't provide many of these kind of stories. So, someone, sometime, will be happy to run into mine. ;)

Peace!

Spanking Story: Alex 7: When the Cat is Not Home… (M/m)

2008-03-31T20:17:00.002+02:00

When the Cat is Not Home…

The real world had dissolved for Alex a few good hours before, when he started playing online with Josh WWE Smackdown! VS Raw 2008 for PS2. His Dad was attending a conference on ‘who-the-fuck-cares’ in Boston and only with his Mom around life was pink. Last night he went to bed at 4 A.M. He woke up at 7 A.M. to continue the game. This time, victory shall be theirs.

“Tag me, Josh. Fucking crawl and tag me, man!” His bloodshot eyes could only see the screen.

“Alex,” the woman called on an irritated tone. “How many times do I have to call--“

She walked in Alex’s room, slightly aware that her son couldn’t care less about her shouting. She stared in disbelief at the pile of clothes on the floor, on the chair, on the bed; at the magazines lying all over the desk. Drawing pencils were scattered on the floor, and the crumpled papers buried the trash bin.

“For God’s sake, Alex, you were supposed to clean up this mess already! Martha will be here in an hour. How can she clean your room?”

“Josh, tag me you idiot!”

“Alex! I’m talking to you.”

“Mom, I’m busy, I’ll talk to you later, ok?” He stared at the screen where a very groggy Shawn Michaels was slumbering on the ring and an angry Undertaker was viciously attacking the referee with a chair. “Get out of there, you moron!” – Alex shouted in his mic.

“Alex Pierce, I am talking to you!” Without Jack around to knock some sense into Alex, Clara could only waste her energy on shouting. The fury was mounting though.

“Who’s that,” Josh asked in the headphones.

“Just my Mom. I’ll get rid of her in a second.”

“Excuse me?” It was the flipping out moment for Clara. “Turn it off right now or I’ll call your father.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Josh, can you give me a second, man? I’ll be back in five. Don’t get yourself killed, ok?” He pressed the mute button and turned to his Mom. “Dad’s in a conference,” he explained patiently as if he was reasoning with a toddler who wanted a candy before lunch. “I’ll finish the game and then I’ll clean the room. What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve said because I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Give me the phone!”

“Mom, I am playing, remember? I can’t hang up. Use the one downstairs, it won’t make a difference. Dad’s still in a conference.” She wouldn’t tell on him. She never did. But he had to play a bit less dangerously because one never knows with women and their PM syndrome.

He wished he had that brilliant thought before his last sentence. He watched as Clara’s eyes bulged in her head and she attacked Alex’s Play Station, pulling out the plug.

Forget about playing safely - He shot up, standing, black screen of the TV staring back at him.

“What the fuck?... Mom!”

“You are not playing anymore. You are tiding up this room this instant, young man, you hear me? Now!” She fumbled with the cables and the joysticks, picking them up. If he had the tantrum she was having now with his Dad he would be get the spanking of his life. And she hadn’t even reached her peak – but Alex’s overcooked brain could only work one way – the game, the precious game he had tried to win for the past few days. He and Josh had to win it. “What the hell are you doing?” He wanted to snatch them back so badly he had to grit his teeth to refrain himself.

“God help you when your Dad gets home. I won’t be there to save your ass this time, trust me on that!” The cables writhed dangerously around the floor, as Clara bent down to tug at them, unplug them, throw them all around. Looking up at him, she finally took the cable-free console away. “Clean you room.” She turned around leaving Alex in a shock.

He followed her closely. “What are you doing with my Play Station? Have you lost your mind? Mom!”

She stopped to confront him, - “I’ll show you lost my mind. If you don’t understand when I you are told nicely, maybe you understand like this,” – then continued her march, with Alex behind her, like a famished dog tracking down a juicy sausage.

“If you don’t give me back my game, I swear I won’t clean up the room. I swear!” They made eye contact, as Clara pushed the Play Station into one of the drawers in the master bedroom. Alex’s fists tightened and he seemed to grow by five inches in her eyes.

“Go to you room!” – she ordered, straightening her back. But he didn’t move. “Are you defying me? How dare you?” She slapped him hard across his face and he stared at her again, not even bothering to sooth the hot pain in his left cheek.

“I just want to finish my game. Then I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I said NO.”

“I’ll take it from the drawer when you leave anyway…”

Clara gave up her fight. There were other ways. She fished for her cell phone in her pocket. She didn’t care about any of her husband’s conferences; she only cared about settling this down with Alex. Alex dropped his hands in his pockets, taunting her. But she could see the confidence fading away from her son’s eyes as she dialed the number. Still sure his Mom would get the ‘leave a message’ reply, he stubbornly refused to leave the room. The ring surprised her as much as her first words to Jack surprised Alex.

He started for the corridor, his fury melting into a pond of fear.

“Alex,” Clara called before he got past the door. She extended the phone to him. As he took it gingerly, like you’d manipulate a fragile porcelain that could blast the moment you touched it, she crossed her arms across her chest, watching. He glared at her with the incredulous look of someone who had been set up. He was good at exploiting her; he was even better at manipulating her feelings. This time he had failed.

“Dad, I was just trying to finish my game…”

“What did I tell you when I left the house three days ago, Alex? About sassing your mother?”

“I was just playing and she came fuming in and unplugged my game, Dad! I’ve been playing all night to get to this point-“

“You what?”

“Not all night. It’s just a figure of speech…”

Pointless to add this was not going the way he had expected. Well, the phone call wasn’t part of the plan in the first place, to be honest.

“This is so unfair,” he mumbled. “She is just ticked off because it’s cleaning day. You know how she gets when Martha has to come.”

“Watch it, mister…”

“That’s the truth, Dad.” He stared at his Mom defiantly. He thought he saw her eyes getting watery and maybe for an instant he felt ashamed with himself; the feeling was gone when the trumpets of victory – victory over her will power - began playing in his mind.

“You listen to me, young man,” Jack hardened his voice and Alex’s brain felt trapped in the man’s words. “You are going to clean the room right now. Do you hear me?”

“Yes…”

“Are you walking to your room right now? I don’t hear you moving…”

Alex sighed, turned around, and left his Mom’s bedroom behind. He dragged his feet towards his own room.

“You are going to tidy up that room spotless, you hear me? Spotless, Alex. And when you’re done, you will call me to tell me that you’re done. If I have to check on you the way I did when you were in kindergarten, I will. You’d better not bother your mother again. And I will be home for dinner, and then we, as in you and I, are gonna have a small discussion about this. Is that clear enough for you?”

Alex paused frowning. He was kicking the foot of the bed hard enough for the whole house to hear it.

“I am talking to you, mister.”

“Yeah yeah I heard,” he mumbled.

Jack paused enough to recover from the shock himself. “You’re in deep trouble and I hope you know that,” he added. “You know what? Martha is not touching your room. You are going to clean and scrub it, got that?”

“As if I care…” – it was barely a whisper but Jack heard it.

“I’m home at seven. And by eight your ass will be so tanned you will sleep on your stomach for a week, mark my words, Alex. Start cleaning that room.”

He hung up. Alex threw the phone against the bed, paused, unsure of the anger still bubbling inside his veins, then picked up the phone again and smashed it against the wall. He threw himself face down on the bed. How dared his mother call his Dad? How dared she? She had ruined his game. He and Josh had been working on the strategy of that match forever. Now all his work had been for nothing and he had to start all over again. He turned around on his back, staring at the ceiling, both arms supporting his head, like a pillow. Rushing to his parents’ bedroom and getting back his console crossed his mind and he even indulged himself with the look on his mother’s face if he went for it. He almost pushed himself to defy them even more, but in the back of his mind one small worry was building other small worries and they all created panic as realization of what he’d done dawned onto him. He stared at the shattered phone pieces. Oh fuck! Oh fuck! He grabbed his cell phone in a desperate attempt to call his dad but this time, when he did want his Dad to answer, the “leave a message” reply greeted him.

By 4 P.M. he was so famished he could have eaten one pound of green beans without feeling the taste and so tired that he remained down on the floor, with his back resting against the leg of the desk. The attempt to reach his Dad failed again and for a long time he sat there, phone in his hand, eyes at the ceiling. He used to be a good kid – well behaved in front of his parents and certainly more careful. During the past two or three years he had become a dick-head and he was well aware of it. Controlling himself was not an option anymore; controlling himself had become almost as hard as not having a joint in the weekends. Joints were not addictive; he knew that for a fact. But how he wished he could have had one now. He gathered his energy and will to stand up and crawl towards the bed, like a drunk, throwing himself face down. He rummaged for the pillow under the blanket, scooped it out and doubling it over he tossed it under his head. He lost track of his thoughts the moment his eyes closed.

He moved a few times in his sleep, breaking free from one dream and falling back into another. When he finally budged again, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. The room was dark and silent. An orange streak of light squeezed in the room through the ajar-left door. The TV was on downstairs; he could hear the soothing gurgle of voices but the words remained a mystery to his ears. A few kids were playing outside, calling each other and laughing. They were probably ten, maybe eleven years old. And he envied them. He was growing up too fast. If he closed his eyes again, he could almost ignore his age and relive any other day of his childhood, especially those afternoons when he would be put to bed and he would wake up in the laughter of his friends playing outside.

“You feeling ok?” The voice of his Dad didn’t startle him.

Alex nodded in the dark.

“Do you want to talk?”

Alex shrugged. “I tried to call you,” he said, one hand under his head, the other playing with a rebel streak of hair running into his eyes.

“I know. What happened today, Alex? You went too far.”

“She’s exaggerating. She burst into my room and started screaming. I was in the middle of a game.”

“She asked you to tidy up your room on Monday. I was there so you can’t deny it. And she comes in today and finds a room which is still a mess and you, playing your game, having no intention of cleaning it up. And you sass her.”

“I was pissed off.”

“That kind of behavior is not accepted in this house, Alex. You know it. And for your own sake you don’t want me to remember the way you spoke to me on the phone.”

A cold chill ran down his spine. He went silent, staring at the ceiling.

“And you smashed the phone too.” The voice was calm, merely pointing out a fact.

“I was angry. And frustrated…”

“We could have talked about it.”

The boy shrugged. “I know. But I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I want to solve my problems alone.”

“Anything going wrong between you and Alexis?”

“We broke up.”

In the dark, Jack nodded. He was still holding in his hand the main piece of the broken phone.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s over anyway. Besides, I need to focus on my stupid classes and grades. I really don’t want to talk about it.” He bit his nail nervously and Jack allowed him this moment to recompose himself.

“You gonna spank me?” – the boy finally asked, and as much as he tried to look indifferent, his edgy tone gave him away.

“Yes.”

With his chin in his chest he managed an “I knew it.”

“I care about your problems and I care about your feelings but you don’t talk the way you did and you don’t act like you just did.”

“It’s still unfair.”

“I am not going to discuss the fairness aspect because by now you should now what is fair and what is not. And before you opened your mouth to say the things you said you were aware of the costs. So I have no sympathy for the way you acted. Get up, go brush your teeth, wash your face and come back in here.”

Alex must have accomplished each one of the tasks while his mind has been wondering ‘what next?’ because the next thing he acknowledged as happening right now, in that reality, was stepping back into his room and blinking away the invading dirty light of his lamp. As usual, only the TV voices came bouncing through the walls from downstairs. He realized he was still groggy from his dreams when Jack unleashed the belt from the loops of his pants and pointed to the bed – Alex hesitated, as if not understanding the obvious. Jack’s fixed look upon him determined Alex to start unbuttoning his jeans. His sigh might have moved anybody who would have taken the picture out of the context.

“I tolerate many things, Alex, but such disrespect and disobedience – those are things that don’t get unnoticed and unpunished in this house.”

Alex kicked away his jeans, towards his desk. He paused, thumbs hooked in the elastic of his boxers. “I wasn’t thinking though… I’m sorry…”

“You’re still not getting away with it. Next time think twice before acting the way you did. Yes, Alex, those boxers come off too. Not down. Off. You won’t be needing them when I’m done with you. You’ll only be needing your pajamas because you are going straight to bed.”

“But I slept already.”

“Then you will sleep some more. Or I can get you tired by putting you in the corner for the next thirty minutes.”

The boxers joined the jeans, on the floor. Jack shook his head disapprovingly at the pile of clothes under the desk, but didn’t say anything. Again, he pointed to the bed. “Face down, please.”

Alex moved, but gazed one last time at his Dad, as if hoping for a last-minute miracle to happen. But miracles are called miracles because they are impossible to happen. He was actually milking some sympathy. There was none.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t home today to straighten things out before they got out of hand,” Jack said.

Alex wrapped his forearms on top of each other and hid his face in them. “For back talking, for being that sassy, and for your attitude towards your mother and myself, I’m gonna tan you really good.” He pulled on the side of the doubled-over belt, snapping it.

“I wasn’t thinking…” – Alex played his excuse again. His voice was small, barely audible. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

“Believe me it won’t.”

The first one was hard but he could take it reasonably well. So was the second one. And the third. But the fourth one was already overlapping the previous lick of the belt and his body stiffened at the pain.

“Dad, please, I really swear it won’t happen again. I promise.”

He closed his eye, fighting back the tears. The screams were piling up in his throat after each blow. He stopped breathing, scared that the mere act of breathing out would let out a cry. Jack knew him well. So when the first whispered “owe” came out he knew that Alex’s roller-coaster had reach its peak, and from there to the end it was only a constant and accelerated fall. Another soft “owe” came, followed by a frantic move on Alex’s side to shift the position of his butt, trying to avoid the belt falling on some already sore spots. Jack increased the pace. Alex’s hand moved to his side with the intention of covering his burning ass, but without actually daring to do so.

“Both hands in front of you, Alex. I don’t want to see them anywhere around your butt, you hear me?”

The boy whimpered but brought his arm back, holding it down under the blanket.

What followed was a cascade of stingy licks across his butt, reaching down to the upper part of his legs. He screamed and kicked his feet, but his hands never came back to cover his butt again.

“You will never ever, in my presence or not, talk to your mother like that again.” – Jack marked his words with sharper strokes. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yessss…”

“And when I talk to you, you don’t raise your tone. The answer ‘whatever’ and ‘as if I care’ will vanish from your vocabulary.”

“I’m sorrreee…”

Jack paused.

Alex’s body trembled with sobs. He knew he could have expected this the moment his mother had dialed that number; but if things had stopped right there and if he had been talking to his father in a civilized manner, he might have gotten away with a lecture and with being grounded. Sassing his mother was a wrong move; sassing his father was suicide. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t there when it happened, because sooner or later he would be. And his Dad would occasionally forget about or ignore smaller crimes, but on his list, disrespect was a major crime.

“I swear it won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.”

The last strokes got the boy begging. He shouted anything that went through his head that could make the spanking stop. The pillow had become a pond of tears, similar to the sleeves of his shirt. His feet were rubbing against each other and he had managed to move himself a foot higher on the bed, with the bed sheets gathered in front of him, in his fists.

“Do I need to repeat any of things I’ve just said again? Ever again?”

Alex shook his head ‘no’ desperately. “I’m sorry…”

The belt unfolded and started sliding back in the loops of Jack’s pants.

Alex recovered slowly. He pushed himself up, without looking at his Dad, more preoccupied with wiping his nose and eyes. He nodded a ‘thank you’ when Jack offered him the paper towels.

“Now,” Jack said, still staring at his son’s crumbled figure on the bed, “I want you to put on your pajamas bottoms, wash you face and brush your teeth, and go down to your mother and apologize for what you did. Then you come back in here and you put your nose in that corner for twenty minutes. And when you’re done you will be getting to bed. I’ll be here to make sure about that. And tomorrow, if you want to talk about it, we will. Clear?”

Alex nodded. He fished for his PJ’s in the drawer and, head hung down, started for the bathroom.

New Blog in Town

2008-03-01T00:01:00.003+02:00

Since I'm damn busy, I'm just posting this short notice to draw your attention to a new blog in the spanking world: "Eric's Spanking Blahg". It's going to be, for sure, a 99% M/F blog. ;)

Oh, you might want to know that the guy is a damn good writer - in my personal, but very objective view. hehe

So go say "hi" - you won't regret it. ;)

Peace (!) and welcome fully online, Eric! Nice to see your two cents put in, mate! :)

Another Entry...

2008-02-24T19:46:00.002+02:00

So, I haven't been around lately - kind of have been busy IRL. Good changes are happening here so I have to be around to witness them. ;)

Anyway... Got a call from an old friend today, as Bily Joel says, which got me moving. It's unbelievable how fast a good story can get your wheels spinning again. And it's also unbelievable how fast I can switch - once more - from M/m to M/F. Honestly, after everything I've been reading lately, I was positive that there is no way anything original could bring me back to M/F. M/F was already cliche; M/m was the novelty allowing my brain to fully exploit the spanking kink. I was wrong, but I am quite thrilled that I was happy about another aspect. *weg*

I am honestly hoping that this talented guy will have the guts to share with the rest of us, spankos hungry for quality fiction, his story. It is original in its approach and the style is refreshing. I certainly hope you will also be lucky enough to find out what I am talking about.

For the moment, my mind is... blank. A bit of a writer's block, really - more because I am not in the mood for spanking, not because I am not in the mood to write. I am on the roll with reading, though, which has to be a part of writing. So, all good here, folks. Hope it goes the same for you. :")

Spanking Story: Alex 6: Dear Diary (Implied M/m)

2008-02-07T17:51:00.000+02:00

Here is something that has been running through my mind for awhile. I loved writing it. It's an entry in Ashley's diary from when she was ten and a half or something.

July 29, 2006

Dear Diary,

Today we got back from visiting Grandma in Boston. We came back two days earlier than planned because Dad was called back to work. It’s really too bad because I had a lot of fun – best part was that my stupid brother, Alex, was not with us. I met a very pretty guy there. His name is Mark and he has beautiful green eyes and blond hair and he is older than me. He’s 12.I can’t wait to call Cynthia and tell her about him!

Hold on. My stupid brother is calling me.

Yeah, I’m back. He wanted to know where I’ve put his MP3 player which I haven’t even touched. His room is so messy! There’s no wonder he can’t find anything there. And he has the guts to blame me if things are disappearing! He’s a real asshole, you know? And he gets even worse for a whole week if Dad spanks him. Oh, joy to the world cuz he got spanked today by Dad! I can’t say I was happy – honestly, I wasn’t – but right now I am thrilled Dad blistered his butt. He really deserved it.

He didn’t know we were coming home today, you know? So when I get in the house today I see my brother, in his jeans and T-shirt, sleeping on the couch in the living room, with the TV on. The house was a MESS. It seems he partied with his friends while we were in Boston. I even saw cans of beer and there was a stain on the couch and the house stank of cigarette smoke. But my Dad said it smelled like joints. Of course Alex denied everything but I mean how dumb can you be, having a party and not cleaning up, you know? He wanted to call the maid in the afternoon, he said. Guess he was late! :)~

One sec.

Yeah, it was Alex again bothering the shit out of me. He wanted to know if I could lend him *my* MP3 player for an hour. I did it only because I’m not a bitch like he is.

So anyway… He didn’t wake up when I came in but then Mom came in and she flipped out. I mean REALLY! She was screaming in no time and Alex sassed her – he is so dumb, isn’t he? – and then my Mom called my Dad who was still unloading our truck and that was it. I mean my stupid brother had no idea Dad would also be home because he thought only we came – which is quite stupid, don’t you think? – and when he saw Dad he freaked out big time. And my Dad was really furious because of the mess, and then the party, and because Mom was crying because Alex had sassed her so he really slapped him.

You should see how Alex changes when he knows he’s in trouble! I mean I can’t ever do that! He comes out with the most incredible stories sometimes and he is so serious about them! He would do anything to avoid a spanking – two weeks ago he gave me one of his games for free only not to tell Mom and Dad that he took Mom’s car joyriding in the weekend. So this time he couldn’t invent anything because Dad didn’t want to listen so he started begging and stuff. Which didn’t work because Dad was still in the living room with us when he took off his belt and took Alex to his office.

And Mom called Martha – who is our cleaning woman – to come help her clean the mess. You wouldn’t believe how the house looked!

Alex really got it this time. I mean usually there is silence for awhile – I mean you don’t hear from the living room what they are talking about or what my Dad is saying. But that usually happens when Dad is calm. Today *I* was scared and I was in the living room. I swear! Alex is almost always as silent as he can be. And I’m saying he really got it because today he was begging my Dad not to spank him and started crying right after my Dad began spanking him. I covered my ears at some point. I felt like crying. And Mom just walked outside, to the garden.
And when it was over I couldn’t hear Alex’s voice anymore. I heard my Dad was saying something and then he cracked the door open and he told my brother he was to go wash his face, take a shower and get his ass downstairs to ‘scrub clean every inch of the house’, as he put it. And then Dad looked at me and asked me if I have unpacked and I said ‘not yet’ and he said that I should get moving also then. Which sucks – because when Alex does something bad everyone is in a bad mood. I went up to my room and then I saw Alex going to his room and he was still crying and stuff. I asked him if he was ok and if I could help and he told me to ‘fuck off’. Go figure the idiot that he is! As if it’s my fault that he got spanked.

Anyway, Mom was calling for dinner a minute ago so I better get moving cuz Dad is still pissed off because of Alex and I don’t want to get in trouble because of him.
Talk to you tomorrow…

P.S. Do you like my new stickers?

Story: Coming to Senses, part 2

2008-02-07T14:17:00.000+02:00

This was the hardest thing to write. Almost ever. It reminded me of other days when I was writing other stuff and spending hours to squeeze out the story. I know where it was going but I simply was not in the mood to put it on paper. Something came out - the first half a little better than the second - the only reason being that I was so bored my imagination was gone. Anyway, I hope it is not obvious. If I were to keep it two more days and then redraft it and polish it, I would be a little more pleased with it. But then I delayed it long enough. I will polosh it later, for other readers. :) Sorry about that. It's not professional, but hey! It's me, remember?

Actually this suddent lack of interest also happened because I am already writing something else in my mind and I am itching to write that one. :)

Coming to Senses, M/F, Part 2b

Copyright: KayleyBlue, 2008

He had been right; Her mood swung from rebellious to apprehensive. He had to stop along the road a few times, though, to plant a smack on her bottom, to adjust her attitude and to stop her stomping. She walked fast in front of him, as if trying to lose him behind, but she got slower as the house grew bigger in the distance.

“Are you having second thoughts,” he teased, aware that he was rubbing it in.
“Second thoughts, my ass,” she replied, but sped up in front of him to be out of his reach.

Jack paused for a few moments then smiled. “Well, enjoy your moment. Enjoy it while you can.” On the front steps of the house, he emphasized his statement; he seized her arm and dragged her along, in the same way in which you would march an enraged child to his room.
“Stop it! I can walk by myself. You don’t need to drag me like a dog, thank you. Hey! Stop it, I said.”
“Get your sorry ass inside.” Jack’s tone rose enough to get her legs to melt under her. It had become the tone she knew and feared.

Frowning, he stood aside and watched her get inside.
She dropped her things at the entrance, eyes fixed on the stick.
“It’s my arrow that one,” was the last resistance she opposed, pointing to the stick in Jack’s fist.

He locked the door. The next moment he stood so close to her that she could feel his breath on her forehead. Dominating her with his gaze and his stature, he grabbed her ear.
“Now, do you want to repeat your last sentence? Maybe all the ones you’ve said so far?”
No matter how many times this would happen, she’d always feel small and helpless. The pull on her ear jerked her up on her tiptoes. She shrieked, her hand reaching instinctively for her burning ear.
“Don’t touch,” Jack warned, watching her reactions like a hawk. Her hand withdrew instantly. She closed her eyes.
“Please reproduce for my poor memory all the things you’ve said while we were out,” he invited again.
Meekly, she offered: “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Hell, you were thinking, all right, and you’ll get your share for that too.”
“Okok, just let go… It hurts.”
He ignored her pleas and walked her to the exact same room in which he had blistered her ass the previous night. Another door closed behind them.

As he sat himself in a chair, he replaced the grip on her ear with a grip on her arm, pulling her unwilling body between his knees. With a jerking motion he unbuttoned her jeans.

“Jack, I was only joking. It wasn’t for real. I swear!”
“Can’t you see how amused I am?” He snatched at her jeans, bringing them to her knees. - “I’ve been laughing my ass off since morning.” - Her Tommy Hilfiger navy boy shorts followed. He took both her small hands into his and looked her in the eyes. “You have a wonderful sense of humor, hon. Now let me show you mine.”
She tumbled over his knee, forehead almost colliding with the floor, feet kicking the air. He placed his right leg over hers, trapping her, adjusting her rear to a perfect target-like position.

“Let’s see if you laugh,” Jack smiled and swatted hard. Her hand flew back the same moment.
“Kind of soon for that, don’t you think?” He seized it in his own and went on. “Ten minutes over my knee and a few licks with your arrow might finally teach you that I don’t appreciate this kind of humor.” He laughed and went on, watching her squirm on is lap.

She took as much she could the best she could. She wriggled as much as she dared to. It wasn’t going to save her but writhing caused the spanking to hurt less. The hand on the floor groped for support but found none that could relieve the pain from her tensed muscles. Her torso collapsed down on one elbow.

Jack went at the spanking job with all his energy. He admired how from pink, the color of her cheeks was shifting to a burning red. “You never learn, do you? You don’t want to learn. But that’s fine by me - I can do this each … fucking … day.”
He let the color change again to a darker red. Her cries had turned into screams. It didn’t bother him one bit. He was still smiling.

“You know this is the spanking for running away and speaking to me the way you did, right? I don’t want you to be surprised by round two, which is for last night.”

She didn’t answer. Most probably because she had bit her tongue chocking on a curse.

“But let’s not talk about round two until we are finished with round one.”

He wanted to set a new record about how long his hand would hurt after the spanking. He flexed his arm, clasped the air with his hand, soothing the burning feeling of the swellings in his palm. Kay wasn’t crying yet but soon she would be; He could promise her that.

“Stand up,” he said eventually. She slid down by his side, on her knees, unsure if to rub her eyes first, or her aching bottom. She went for the second choice.

Dammit, his hand hurt.

He picked up the arrow from the floor, where he had dropped in before taking her over his knee. He slid it through his palm, checking for knots that could bruise her. He found none. She had done a pretty good job, even better than if he would have asked for it. “All right,” he said, tapping it against his palm and looking down at Kay, “let’s see if this arrow is multifunctional, ey?”
“I think I had enough,” she said. “You’ve made your point.”
“Judging by your behavior I very much doubt it, Sunshine. So stop delaying, stand up, and bend over the chair. Unlike you, who’s been playing around in mud and pretending to fish, I had a rough day and I wanna get it over with. If you don’t wanna earn interest, I suggest you do as you’re told. I’m losing my patience here.”
She obeyed because she had no choice. Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and began planting some solid whacks on her behind. “Your arrow is multifunctional, all right,” he taunted her.

Her discomfort rose until her knees began to buckle; if it hadn’t been for his arm to keep her standing she would have been on her knees already.

Now she was sorry.

The welts overlapped. They built a solid welted mass – pretty much what you would get from the blow of a birch with 100 sticks inside.

The sobbing continued even after he had stopped whipping her. He sat next to her, waiting for her to calm down. He put an arm around Kay, pulling her to his chest. First, she resisted then she sobbed in his shoulder, while he rocked her gently.
There were no words. When she managed to catch her breath, she was still there, mute, chin on his shoulder, watching some sparrows hopping on a branch outside.

Unavailable Due to 'Technical' Reasons

2008-02-07T01:24:00.000+02:00

I had a little accident this morning - with my eye, an accident with my baby male cat while I was sleeping so I reached ER around 1pm. I came back home around 5pm from work and hospital with a bandaged eye so... didn't have time to work on the story.

If everything is fine tomorrow, after another morning check at the doctor, I will write. I feel extremely bored not being allowed to strain my eyes or smoke (risk of infection growing) and shit like that. I did sleep for something like 4 hours, woke up, did some remote work from home on my computer at work (like four hours hehe) and smoked a pack of ciggies, and I can't wait to go back to work on Monday. hehe

Time to go to bed, I guess...

Story: Coming to Senses, part 2

2008-02-05T23:25:00.000+02:00

I will give you tonight the first mini-chapter of what I wrote last night. It seems that no matter how much I want to write and focus, I can't. Tomorrow I will finish all of it and add the continuation in this same post, to avoid archiving issues later.

Coming to Senses
(Part 1 A)
Copyright: KayleyBlue, 2008

Jack woke up around seven. He had a busy day ahead, with important guests coming for tea and coffee, and then lunch, around one. Everyone else had been up since five and the house had become a busy nest where cooks holding hot pots and dangerous weapons ran wild in the kitchen and maids with less vicious tools scrubbed the floors and tidied the rooms downstairs; yes, everyone had been up and working except for his beloved spoilt wife, Kayley.

Spanking her was his top priority for the day. People could knock themselves out running around inside; it held no importance. After all, what was the shed for, he mused.

Most probably she was still fighting her bad hangover at that early hour. He could imagine her coming down the stairs, with puffy big eyes and the innocent look of a five year old, in her pink PJs and with her fluffy pink bunny slippers. He had married a kid, not a woman; at least he’d always been aware of that. So he decided to let her indulge herself that morning, by oversleeping until ten. He lived to regret it, however.

When the beeping alarm of his watch grabbed his attention at ten, the princess was still fast asleep. He went up to their bedroom to see how she was - maybe even pat her sore behind a little to get her moving to the bathroom faster. But the room he found was deserted and the window wide open. Only the clothes piled up all around the floor and on the upturned blankets on the bed were strong indicators that she had once inhabited that room. It was another cry for attention on her side; she had run away.

He should have panicked. And that was his first instinct. Yet the logic took over and built his anger. Running away had always been a poor choice. On a day when guests were expected, it was blatant disobedience, lack of respect, and mostly, a screaming proof that she was still too spoilt. Or maybe drunk, whichever the difference could be in her case.

He couldn’t be at Julie’s house because that’s where she’d been the last time, when she got caught, and she got whipped thoroughly. She wasn’t doing the same mistake twice. But he had no time to run around looking for her; not before lunch, at least.

***

The evening shadows were elongating and he’d been calling her name and searching the surroundings for three hours, to no avail. At last, the panic found a small corner in his fertile mind from where to start growing. He wondered if she wasn’t hiding from him – most probably his cries were scaring her off, in the same way in which the shot of the hunter’s gun would scare a rabbit. So, flashlight in his hand, all alone, he began climbing the hill on the west side of the house. He swam through wild bushes and high grass, choosing the shortcut, not the path, to the other side of the woods, to the river. This time, just like a predator, he could sense her whereabouts. He knew he would find her there in the same way in which he knew that the moment he’d see her he’d turn her small behind crimson - To match the drapes she had chosen for the guest room, the ones she had fussed about for four months; for a room she hardly even saw. And she still wasn’t satisfied. She still wanted the drapes down again, to replace them with checkered blue ones, “For a country feeling,” she had explained. “Country feeling, my ass,” – he mumbled to himself. “I’ll give her a country hiding instead.”

Right enough – as soon as he reached the main path again, down in the clearing, he noticed her small frame bent over a fish net, busying herself with what looked like fishing to her, but feeding the fish, to him. To translate - not to hurt the poor creatures, she had devised a net which she had set in the flow of the stream, with some bait attached to the bottom of it, in which she caught the fish only to release them a few minutes later. She was disgusted with herself for liking real fishing. So she did everything possible to make peace with herself on the issue of not hurting the fish, on one hand, and, on the other, satisfying her sick need to feel the rod of the fishing pole (in her case, the net) tremble as she picked the fishes out.

“I’m happy to see that you’re alive,” he said behind her. The voice startled Kayley enough to make her scream and crash on her butt in a muddy puddle. The net dropped to the ground. What seemed to her like a second between getting over the initial shock of seeing this lugubrious apparition and the urge to run for her life was actually long enough for Jack to understand her intention and seize her flight.
“Not so fast, Sunshine,” he said, laughing.

Her big dark eyes doubled and the look on her face was priceless. She had mud all over her hands, all over her new Calvin Klein outfit, and on her shoes. She even had a dirt spot on her cheek. She had pulled her hair together under a blue Quicksilver cap.

“Leave me alone,” she tried to snatch her arm free. The lips formed a pout.
“You’re the angry one?” – He laughed. Laughter was what kept him calm. “Hey, what’s this?” From a pile of neatly cut sticks he picked one.
“That’s an arrow! You wouldn’t know one if it went right through your head.”
“But I would know a perfect stick if I saw one for my beloved wife’s behind…” He turned her around as easily as you would spin a child and whipped her bottom hard with it. She voiced her protests loud and clear, punctuated by a few curses.
“You’re brave now because we’re not home yet,” he said, loosening his grip on her. “I’ll see how brave you’ll be taking this over your bare bottom in our living room at home.” She shook her head ‘no’. Probably the act of doing it would make the scene less probable to happen.

“Pack your things,” he said, and his attitude took another tone. Calmness aside, he stopped playing the game. It was not a game. Catching her might have been, but this wasn’t one anymore.
“Pack’em, unless you want your pants down right now, and a good spanking coming your way.”
She looked at him to make sure he wasn’t kidding. He raised his eyebrows. Still amused.

She picked up her things while throwing a tantrum (could also have been interpreted as ‘she threw a tantrum while picking up her things’) then faced him, her eyes fixing his.
“That’s my arrow, by the way, and I want it back.” It sounded like an order.
Jack would have chuckled; she was too small to be giving orders to anybody, except to herself maybe. And even those should be considered advice. But she stood straight in front of him, determined, confident. His eyes opened surprised: “Care to repeat that, please?”
“I want my stick back. It’s mine. I made it.”
“Good news, Sunshine, because that means you don’t have to cut another rod tonight.” He slapped her ass hard and she yelped. “Move it. I had enough games for one day.”

Fucked up Evening

2008-02-05T22:48:00.000+02:00

My Mom came over and she manages to piss the shit out of me each time she comes. She is the nagging queen. Each sentence coming out of her mouth is on the negative side. I am so fucking tired of it I don't have words to explain it.

This is why I don't visit anymore and this is why I don't miss them when they are gone. Maybe I am just a cold person and a lonely one too, but I had enough bullshit in my life and I don't want anymore. I moved 350km away from home for University not to be in that house anymore, and in another country to be even further.

These are the moments when I wish I could live across the ocean. I wouldn't mind. I don't care why she does it anymore. I have my own life and I plan on living it. Why the fuck does she have to always come and start cooking and to nag me about my house and my habits and everything? She has a problem with my father who keeps drinking? Then keep it there and keep me out of the picture. I am sick and tired of being the one to whom everyone runs when they have a problem. I have problems too and I don't bother people with them - and the fact that I write this down is not to get comments from anybody, but to get it out of my system. I would actually appreciate it if you didn't comment, because my pissed off mood is dangerous. And no matter what I say about my parents I become very protective when others say it.

I have two or three things in mind on how I could calm down and you don't want to hear them and I don't want to share them. But I might do them nevertheless.

Yeah, keep throwing things around. That's gonna help for sure. What the fuck is her problem anyway? Fuck, I am sooo tired of their shit.

You know, each time I have something to celebrate or be happy about, I call home, and I get to hear that he's drunk again and she's in a bad mood. Jack got employed in the position he wanted - 'well done' with the background of fighting; same goes for both of us getting maximum grades in our Masters degree and being happy about it; same goes for the day before my wedding; same goes for every fucking Xmas and new year and Easter; for Jack's promotion. For my own. I have started to avoid their phone calls , simply because I don't want to be down and worry all day about them fighting again. I dread the moment they would call in the evening.

I am even sick with myself for sharing all this, but who gives a shit? And I used to wonder how come I ended up so screwed up, being the masochist that I am? Actually, I wonder how I ended up always smiling at work and being optimistic, instead of locking myself in a cage and nagging everyone like she does, or drinking every days countless glasses or bottles of booze and being down.

Just put a gun to my head and shoot me guys.

You know what? I am fucking gonna write! If I don't lose contact with this fucking reality I might just get out of the house in the middle of the might and wander on the streets for a few hours.

M/F Story on the Way

2008-02-04T23:37:00.000+02:00

Good news for those who enjoy the M/F genre - I've started writing the second part of "Coming to Senses". More good news is that I enjoy doing that.

It took me about two hours to convince myself that I can switch my mind from M/m to M/F successfully. I think I did it, but you will be the judges of that. :) Writing M/F gives me a good feeling if I get a good vibe of my plot. I was kind of stuck, not knowing how to go with the second part (especially since I wrote the first part in the fall of 2006). I totally hate bland plots that feature only a spanking and nothing else. I want the story mostly. So I came up with something as playful as always (or so I like to believe) to motivate me to write. :)

Hope you'll enjoy it. It has to be ready by tomorrow. And no, I cannot post the first part without having the whole story in hand - it's like telling what you're gonna write before you do: for me, the whole magic goes and I can't write a word anymore. For me, writing is all about being spontaneous, discovering my characters along the road. I take that away and I am left with nothing. :)

Cheers! :)

Story: Alex 5: Rivalries (M/m)

2008-02-04T20:44:00.000+02:00

First, I want to thank all of you who have supported my writing over the past two years. I had my moments of being active and then disappearing, but feedback kept me going. So thanks a lot, guys, for your comments and support. I always appreciate your comments, even the criticism (even though I defend myself against it first), because it helps me grow; it helps me get better at what I am doing. :) So thanks again.

This story is somehow linked to what has been going on in Alexis's life, on Juju's blog. Reading Alexis: Chapter 14 on her blog might help you understand better the context. So would the Alex-Alexis story to which you can find links on my blog.

All disclaimers apply. Over 18.

An Alex Spanking Story: Rivalries (M/m)

Copyright: KayleyBlue, 2008

After classes, Alex had been waiting for ten minutes on the second floor corridor when he saw Lizzie appear. She came without Alexis and it wasn't a suprise to him.

He watched her wave goodbye to the two girls she’d been chatting with. She hadn’t seen him yet. As she opened her locker to get her things, he approached her. He needed to know a few things about Alexis. And who was the person who knew Alexis best? Lizzie, her old time friend. He had always disliked her for a reason which was not quite clear to him and which, at this time, held no importance in his view.

“Why lookie lookie who’s here,” he said, resting his left shoulder on a locker.
Lizzie sized him from head to toes.
“Whacha want?”
Alex smiled, not to be courteous, but because he was quite amused.
“Where is Alexis,” he asked, drawling the words.
“What’s it to you?”
He slammed the locker door in her face, almost catching her fingers.
“What the fuck is your problem?” – She cried , but her anger was on the edge of panic.
He felt she was somewhat scared. And that is exactly what he was after.
“Where is Alexis?”
“How the fuck should I know?” – she screamed. “Let me get my things.” It was a plea.
“Alright, then,” – Alex smiled. “Maybe you know something about that kid, Joey? What’s he after?”

Lizzie grinned. “Oh, I see. You are jealous, aren’t you?”
“Not your problem.”
“Joey is hardly a threat. But if I were you,” – and the smile she gave Alex was the evilest she could manage – “as the song goes, I’d be careful about the new boy in town.”

Alex watched her bemused.

“Oh, the boyfriend doesn’t know, does he?” She pushed him away from her locker, opened it, and grabbed her things. “Maybe if you were less full of yourself you would notice…” She turned her back on him and walked away like a winner.

Alex watched her go. Yes, he was jealous. Maybe because the vibe he had been getting lately was good. The news was more of a shock than something else.

Josh and Mike appeared by his side, schoolbags on their shoulders.
“So?” – Josh asked watching Lizzie disappear on the stairs.
“Who is new in school?” – Alex asked, speaking to none of them in particular.
“Just a new kid came a few weeks ago. A transfer. Why?”

Alex’s fists tightened.
“I wanna know everything about this guy, you hear me? He’s dead meat. There is no messing around with my girlfriend. I want to know where he lives, what bus he takes when he goes home. Everything.”
“He’s after Alexis?”
“If he was, he won’t be anymore. Not after tonight.” He turned to face them. He was smiling. “So guys, we haven’t beaten up anybody for way too long, right? It was getting a little boring, really… Time to spice things up. Let’s have some fun tonight.”
The other two also smiled.

***

His name was Ben, Alex found out from Mike. He was riding in the same school bus with Alexis. He was living a couple of blocks away from her. He was too new to have his own gang at school, but he was growing one in his own neighborhood. He was sixteen and good looking.

He was also a tough ass.

Alex learnt that the hard way, when the Ben’s fist caught Alex’s jaw. He felt his lip go numb and swell instantly. Blind anger rose to his brain; he punched the new kid in the mouth, then in the stomach. Ben fell on his back, with Alex on top of him.

“That’s enough,” Josh cried. “Fuck, man, that’s enough. You made your point. Let’s go.” It took both Josh's and Mike's strength to pull Alex back.
“You don’t fucking mess with my girl, you hear me, you piece of shit?” He fought to escape both his friends’ grip.

From the corner of the building, two massive shadows appeared. Sharp steal was flashing in their hands. Ben watched them approach and dared to stand up, slowly, wiping drips of bloody saliva off his chin.
“Over here,” he called, and the strangers began running in his direction.

First, the three friends froze. Then Josh turned around and hit the road. “Run, you idiots,” he called back. Mike followed his lead. Except for Alex, who took his time to punch Ben in the mouth twice.

Later that evening he thought he was lucky, although back then he only felt angry; a motorcycle’s breaks screeched to a halt next to him.
“Get on,” the man said.
Alex’s eyes widened.
“Get fucking on, I said. Now!”
He did, quite puzzled. The motorcycle’s wheels screeched again while it accelerated into the distance. He looked back at the guys with the knives. They had stopped running. They were simple watchers now.

As they rode on dark streets, no one said anything; now and then the dim yellow light of a functional street lamp cast deep shadows into the dingy alleys of the neighborhood. Then Alex began recognizing the surroundings; they had reached the east extremity of his own neighborhood.

“Are you ok,” the man asked. They weren’t running anymore.
“Yes. Thanks.”
It was Drew. It had taken Alex about one minute to realize it. He mostly recognized the voice and the motorcycle.
“I’ll take you home,” Drew said.
They were quiet again. The adrenaline, which had kept him going until then, began subsiding. His muscles felt weak. Realization dawned onto him – home, to his Dad. He was in trouble.

***

Jack listened calmly to Drew’s story. Alex watched the conversation take place in the kitchen through the glass sliding doors. He didn’t hear a word, as they were almost whispering, but he could see his Dad’s reaction. The face of the man had hardened and when he turned to look at Alex, Alex didn’t see anything good in those dark eyes.

His lip burnt. It had swelled. Blood had stopped pouring, but he started now and then when his mother attended to it. She wasn’t talking. And she didn’t say much either.

Drew came out of the kitchen, accompanied by his father.
“You should come for dinner, one evening.” - Jack was saying. “How about this Saturday?”
Clara stood up and went next to her husband. “We would very much like it if you could come, Drew.”
“I’ll see what I can do. We’ve been quite busy lately and we two didn’t have time to catch up on old times. I guess we could come...”
“Bring Michelle too, if you feel like it,” Jack said.
“We’ll see.” There was something strange in his tone. “We’ll talk about it.”
“Just give me a call when you know for sure and we’ll arrange it. We can play Dungeons and Dragons…” - Jack teased.
Drew laughed. “That’s a good one, doc. Well… it might be a healthy change for the kids. I’ll see what I can do. Ok. Gotta go,” he said turning towards Alex. “You take care. And I’d better not see you in my neighborhood again unless you’re visiting. Or else I’ll tan your ass myself.”
Alex nodded. He tried to smile but he couldn’t. “Thank you,” he said. He was too preoccupied to observe his Dad’s mood to care about the future.

Drew waved again and went out, followed by Jack. He saw the two men exchanging a handshake and Drew patting his friend on the shoulder. Then Jack came back inside. He paused in front of the front door, looking at Alex.
“I can explain,” the boy said fast, standing up from the couch.
“No explaining will get you out of this one, Alex,” Jack concluded.
“You could have gotten killed,” his mother also said. “Do you realize what you’ve done? What if Drew wasn’t there to save you? Oh, God, I don’t even want to think about it!” She sighed and collapsed in a chair. “Look at you! You have stains of blood everywhere on you. You have a broken lip. Your eye is swollen. How are you going to go to school like this?” She paused and turned to her husband. “Jack?”
“If you think that I'm gonna write a medical note for him to get him out of trouble, you are wrong,” he said.
“But he cannot go to school on Monday with a black eye and a puffy lip!”
“Are you blaming me for what's happened to him?” His jaw tightened.
She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant and you well know it.” She turned to her son. “Go wash your face, take a shower and go to bed.”
“No,” Jack said, and Alex’s heart leaped out of his chest. “Go up and bring me the cane from your room.”

“Jack!” – Clara’s eyes opened wide, but not as wide as Alex’s. Alex waited, looking expectedly to his mother. He hoped she could save him. But the chances were dim. Then his eyes turned to Jack, pleading.
“Oh, no, mister, you can give me that look all you want. Both of you can stare all you want,” he said shaking his head and smiling. “It’s not gonna work. Has it ever worked, Alex?”
For what Alex could remember, no, it hadn’t. But he had the right to hope.

“He has a puffy lip, Jack,” Clara insisted.
“Does he have a broken butt? No. Alex , go get the cane. Quit stalling.”

Alex threw one last desperate look to his mother, who was now rubbing her hands furiously. Then he saw his Dad’s gaze upon him and he stood up, walking slowly, head down, to the stairs. As he reached his room, he heard the muffled conversation taking place downstairs – his mom, pleading; his dad, explaining calmly.

He felt the urge to call Alexis. He listened to his parents, who were still bickering. He picked up the phone in his room and dialed her number. He was lucky: it was she who picked up the phone.
“Hey,” he said. He wasn’t sure what he was going to tell her. He wasn't sure why he had called in the first place.
“Heeeey! What’s up?”
He heard himself laugh dryly. “Did your Dad get home?”
“No. Why?”
He studied the cane in his hand. He paused. “Never mind.” He couldn’t tell her himself. Let Drew do that for him.
Jack’s call resounded from downstairs.
“I gotta go,” he said suddenly, all senses alert. “I just wanted to say that I’ve missed you, pretty face.”
“Me too.” Her voice was soft.

He hung up, smiled to himself, and rushed downstairs. His mother was no longer there; either they did have an argument, or they agreed but she didn’t want to watch the scene – it was all the same to Alex. He placed the cane into his Dad’s extended hand. Alex thought that Jack had hesitated there for a second; unfortunately, it was only a second, because the next moment Jack showed his son to the coffee table.

“Take off your shirt,” Jack said. “I don’t want it falling over your butt every second.”
Alex began working on the buttons. He undid the first three and pulled it over his head, like a sweater.
“Don’t you want to know why I did it?” – Alex asked.
“I will know after we’re finished with this,” Jack said. He sighed. His voice became mellow. “Alex, listen carefully: no reason, and I mean absolutely no reason, is good enough to get yourself in that situation. Do I make myself clear? Not even if someone did something to you or to Ashley, you don’t bring yourself to the situation to be killed. Things are not supposed to be handled through fights, and especially not by a seventeen year-old, with a gang, in another neighborhood. Do you understand that?”
Alex nodded. He was confused by this way of reasoning.

“He was after Alexis,” Alex finally confessed.
“I imagined. And that makes the situation even worse. Let the girl choose. I don’t think she would approve of your behavior either. This is gang behavior. This is not how men act and solve their problems. What you did was unbelievably reckless and stupid. Take your jeans and boxers down, please. And bend over, hands on the table.”

Alex hesitated. He wanted to say something or negotiate but Jack’s stern eyes convinced him that resistance was futile. Besides, he knew it from experience. He had learnt it the hard way, from when he was only eight.

His dirty jeans fell to his ankles followed by his boxers. The hair rose on his arms as he bent forward, grabbing tight onto the edges of the coffee table. It was all too familiar to him. Only the swishing sound and the horrible bite were new. He stopped breathing, letting his mind adjust to the pain.

Jack gave him time to breathe in and out. He also gave him time to anticipate, which made the situation even more unbearable to Alex. The kid’s mind could grab only the concept of ‘how much until the next one’.

He looked with the corner of his eye as the cane came down again, his teeth gritted before the stroke even landed. Pain exploded again. No, he couldn’t take it. He definitely couldn’t. He made a move, ready to stand up, but the cane bit again, higher on his butt. He screeched. Small beads of sweat were shining on the small of his back.

“Please,” he begged, panting as if he’d run a hundred miles. “I’ll take the belt,” he offered.
“No. You are taking the cane, Alex.”
The fourth one made him bend his knees. The house resounded with his cry. He stood up again, slowly, carefully, scared that the simple act of getting back into position will cause another blow. Which did happen.

He gave up counting when he reached seven. He had hoped for six. Anything past that number meant that there was no set number. And just as he had expected, at some point the cane started coming down so fast that he had no time to move or breathe. He dissolved into cries of pain. His hands had moved so much forward that he was almost lying flat on the table.
Jack stopped.

“Will this happen again, Alex,” he questioned.
The boy shook his head no. Speaking coherently was as possible as avoiding the next stroke.
“You will not get yourself killed by acting the way you just did. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
Two more strokes hit his upper legs and the most terrifying one, the third, landed in the middle of his bottom. Alex remained in place, weeping hard.
“Ok, that’s it.” Jack watched his son stand up gingerly. His face was screwed. His eyes had become as puffy as his lip. He let him fumble with his boxers at his ankles. Pulling them up was torture. The boy decided against putting on his jeans and simply kicked them off, grabbed them in his hand.

Jack handed him the shirt.
“Does your lip still hurt?” – He asked, raising the boy’s chin slowly, for a better view of the injury.
“In comparison to my ass, no,” Alex said.
Jack smiled, wiped his kid’s forehead with his palm. Even his hair was wet with sweat.
“Are your teeth ok?” – He asked again while checking his son’s lip.
“Yeah…”
“No loose tooth, no nothing, right?”
“No.”
He checked the swollen eye and the eyebrow. Alex flinched.
“Stay still.” He felt the lump. “Well, the bone is not broken, at least,” Jack said. He smiled again, sighed, and kissed his son’s forehead. “You are such a stupid kid, I swear… Go to bed. I’ll see what I can do about your school until the swelling passes… And Drew will make sure nothing happens to you because of what you did tonight to that kid.”

***
“You stupid idiot! Fucking bastard! What the fuck were you thinking?”
Alex didn’t have time to avoid the rain of fists and slaps landing on his chest and face. She had caught him with the tips of her fingers over his eyebrow. It hurt almost as bad as if she would have poked her finger into his eye.

It was Saturday morning, and Alexis had appeared out of blue sky on his doorsteps, in his garden, where he had been relaxing with a manga magazine. She was fuming, although Alex hadn’t had the chance to figure out the exact reason.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” – She yelled.
He wrestled her to catch her hands, which were damaging him almost as much as that new kid’s fist had. She pushed him away, making him fall down in his chaise long. He screamed in pain and jerked up from the seat, as if he had been sat on a wasp nest.

“What’s wrong with you?” – Alex whined, rubbing his ass with one hand.
The incident seemed to calm her down.
“He gave it to you, didn’t he?” She was a teaser. Her eyes laughed in her head playfully. She pushed him again, but this time Alex didn’t fall.
“He did not.”
“Did too.”

The scene reminding Alex of his bragging to his friends, as a kid, about how cool he was and how many things he could do without being caught.

“Did not. Mind your own business.”
“Those are very big words coming from someone like you,” she smiled. “He spanked you. Just admit it.”
“You’re delusional, woman.”
“Haha! You reeaaally got it, didn’t you? Let me see!” She attacked him playfully, jerking down on his pants.
“What gotten into you? Hey! Alexis, stop it! That hurts!” He seized her hands in his, but the girl was stronger than he could have imagined. She gave up for an instant, and went on plan B. “C’mon, Alex… It’s me, remember? Just let me see.”
“Why are you so curious?”
“’Cause I am?”
“What? Me getting spanked turns you on now?”
“You have no idea,” she giggled, slapping his butt and running away. Alex chased her upstairs, all the way to his room.

The slap he got from her stunned him.
“That’s for trying to control my life,” she said. Then she planted a wet kiss on his mouth. “And that’s because you care about me.”

Story

2008-02-04T02:00:00.000+02:00

I have the story written, you guys, but I need to check it before submitting it. And that shall be done tomorrow. Juju has already posted her story, and mine will be somewhat linked to hers - more of a result of what happens in Alexis's life.

Yesterday's Story

2008-02-03T12:03:00.001+02:00

After I went to bed last night - somewhere after a very troubled dream I had - I suddenly realized that I should have warned the readers that what came out of me was the product of the mood for writing horror stories. I'm working on a little plot at the moment and I am not quite sasisfied yet - that's what I actually wanted to be writing last night. Given the circumstances, I said let's write a spanking story instead. So I suppose the mood for writing that kind of genre translated itself, a bit at least, to my spanking story.

I felt it was over the edge. I did. I knew the rections I would get, but I went on anyway. For a second there I got into Jack's frame of mind - being extremely tired and frustrated with Alex's behavior. That's why there was no lecture. I felt there was no point anymore. I thought, in his selfish behavior Alex broke two primordial rules: one, to care for his sister and protect her; two, to warn about her whereabouts when everyone is sick worried and crying their eyes out. Initially, I think, I wanted Clara to interfere. Then, given all of the above, I changed my mind. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. I am evil, ain't I?

As for Ashley, she might be my creation but I hate the whinny brat that she is. Trust me, her butt was barely red so the tantrum was for nothing really. I would have crucified her if I could; instead, I chose to degrade her through her own behavior. Unlike Alex, she is the annoying kind of brat.

The only things that I care about at this point are Alex feeling bad about what he did and Jack being let down again by Alex.

Clara? Clara is a little confused woman, with strong oppinions but controversed feelings. And actions, as well.

Thanks everyone! :)

Story: Alex 4: Double Dose (M/mf)

2008-02-03T00:43:00.000+02:00

Double Dose (M/mf)

Copyright: KayleyBlue, 2008

All disclaimers apply. Over 18.

Ashley was sobbing in the kitchen. Alex, as busily as he tried to make himself by playing “Need for Speed” on his computer, still fought the dreadful feeling that the evening would end with him being in trouble too.

His sister had been late before. Tonight, however, his mother’s eyes were red from crying; his Dad had paced around the room for two hours until Ashley got home. They had called all the neighbors and Ashley’s friends to ask about her whereabouts and no one had a clue. Alex, who had a vague idea, played dumb and hoped that she – and he, as well – would get away with it.

“Alex!” The doctor’s voice boomed through the walls of the kitchen, through the closed door. “Come here right now.”

He saved his game, took his time. No point in hurrying towards certain death. His Dad would wait about ten seconds before calling again and then he would come himself to get him, take out his belt, and whack him a dozen times before inviting him again for a short chat in the kitchen. The boy was not interested in finding out if the scene would repeat itself again in the same sequence.

His Mom was torn; sitting on a kitchen stool, with a paper towel to her nose, she looked as if the most horrible thing had happened to her kids. He didn’t care. Next to her, a very apprehensive Ashley was fighting her drunken moves, trying to sober up. “Too late”, Alex though. He knew how that felt. His father, Jack, had already started to unbuckle his belt when Alex came through the kitchen door. No way out this time. No excuses, no nothing. She had ratted him out. Alex stared at his sister in an attempt to catch her look, to warn her to shut up, to promise her the beating of her life as payment for telling on him. She didn’t even look at him, however. She was looking at everything and everyone but him.

The belt slid out of the loops whooshing and snapping.
“Did you know where she was,” Jack asked, more for the sake of it; they were all aware that Ashley was telling the truth.

Alex eyed his sister. She had spilled the beans on him only to get herself out of trouble. “More or less,” he said. A straight forward answer would have had the same effect; Jack folded the belt.
“Did you buy her drinks for her little party, knowing that she is thirteen?”
His mother started crying again and Alex felt like shouting “Shut the fuck up, woman, I’m trying to think! No one has fucking died!” Instead, he frowned at the cherry-brown parquet
“Yes.”

Now Jack would grab his arm and spank the daylights out of him. But Jack paused again, only to ask the incriminating question:
“How did you buy the liquor?”
The boy had been prepared for the first two questions. The anxiety had paralyzed his brain as he had not anticipated this one.
“Alex? How did you buy the liquor? From where and with what?”
“From some place close to school…”
“Do you have something to give me?”
Alex paused. Yeah, a fake ID. He didn’t say it, just walked out of the room, to his school bag, searched deep inside one of its pockets, between books and notebooks, and returned with the ID in his hand.

The doorbell rang. It was Rose, his grandmother, who had succeeded in squeezing out the news about Ashley’s going missing and had come by to ease down her own grieves and worries. Alex’s hopes of getting away with the crime suddenly increased. Until -
“Clara, please get the door. It’s probably your mother,” Jack said, without looking at his wife. “I don’t want your mother in here, poking her nose into my business.”
“She is worried,” his mother said, leaving the room. “I think she has the right to be worried about her grandchildren?”
“She certainly has. But she has no right to put her nose into how I educate my kids. She can sit all she wants in the living room, but not in this room,” Jack added, before his wife closed the door. Jack threw the fake ID on the counter.

“Ashley, get your nose into that corner, young lady,” he said to his sniffling daughter. She slumbered towards the appointed place, rubbing her drunken red eyes with her sleeve. Tears were dripping from her nose to the floor. Alex was not sorry for her; She had promised not to tell and she had broke her promise. Now he was about to get spanked with his grandmother in the other room and his sister in the same room with him. He was sure his Dad will spare Ashley the shame of being spanked in front of him. She was lucky.

“You,” Jack raised the belt to point to the counter, “jeans and boxers down, hands on the counter.”

The latest trend allowed Alex to unbuckle only his first two buttons before his oversized jeans dropped to his ankles. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers and slid them down to his knees.

“Hands on the counter,” Jack said again. On the man’s face not a muscle moved. Alex obeyed, fear flickering in his green eyes. Sometimes it was safer not to argue about punishments or any other controversial issues with Jack. Tonight was one of those ‘sometimes’ days. Both Ashley and Alex knew it. Clara knew it and by the looks of it, Rose, his indulgent grandmother, also knew it. The living room was as silent as a tomb.

“Eyes forward, to the wall,” Jack said, and Alex obeyed. He kind of heard his sister sobbing, shuffling her feet in her corner. The seconds between this and the first crack of the belt seemed to have diluted into an eternity. His mind grew aware of what was to follow, of what he felt, of his position, of what he did. He wondered if he would cry. He hoped not. He wondered if he would beg for his father to stop – he certainly would not, not with his sister there, not with his grandmother in the other room.

His cheeks exploded with pain when the crack of the belt echoed in the room. He blinked away the tears of fear. It was going to be bad. It was going to hurt a lot. And the punishment would most certainly take forever.

The fury of the blows stunned his mind. Each blow pushed his body forward, towards the counter, and as he was bringing it back, another blow was resending waves of pain to his mind. At the beginning, when the belt was coming down hard, every three or four seconds, he had time to recompose himself after each blow. But as Jack’s fury mounted, so did the fury of the belt. Alex hid his face into his arm, pushed his forehead against the cold feeling of the wall, stared stubbornly at a yellow spot on the cabinet; his nails scratched at the counter’s smooth surface. He stood on his tiptoes, his knees buckled, he twisted. In the end, he cried. He moved away from the path of the falling belt. Jack grabbed his arm again, without a word, ignoring Alex’s pleads, forced his torso back down onto the counter. The belt began to build a steady painful fire into the boy’s upper legs. The cries became incoherent mumbles.

He remembered his Mom coming in and pleading with Jack to stop. The boy had turned his eyes towards her, begging. He never did that during a spanking; he always did it before. Jack ushered her out though and went back to his unfinished job, building a few more remarkable welts on Alex’s sit spot. A few rather purple marks had started showing when he stopped. He removed his hand from Alex’s back but the kid remained there, twisted over the counter, sobbing.

“If there is a next time, I’ll turn your legs crimson too,” the man said. The words sent chills up Alex’s spine. He could recognize Jack’s behavior, but the coldness did not resemble Jack at all.

“I’m sorry…” – he sobbed again, wiping his runny nose on his already wet sleeve.

Without a word to his son, Jack wiped his forehead, rearranged his shirt’s cuffs, and turned to Ashley: “You, next. Jeans down, panties down, bend over the table.” Ashley remained in the corner. She was already crying, as if it had been her getting the thrashing of her life.

Jack span her towards him, belt in his hand still, and began unzipping her tight jeans.
“Daddy, don’t spank meeee...” She became even more hysterical when she caught a glimpse of Alex’s damaged rear. She pulled back, pushing Jack’s hands aside, in a futile attempt to escape. Jack ignored her even when she slapped his hands. Her jeans and panties at her ankles, she still tried to pull them up. “Stop the fuss. Ashley!” He shook her by the arm as he marched her unwilling ass towards the table. She was still drunk, by the looks of it. At some point she even twisted trying to bite Jack’s hand. Jack’s nerves exploded. The belt cracked loudly against her legs and bottom.

“You do not fight me, young lady. And you most certainly don’t bite me.” Before she had reached the table she had managed to get her ass slapped at least four times, Alex had counted. The boy was still fumbling will pulling up his pants, but the scene had taken his mind away from the soaring pain in his own bottom.

Ashley’s whines went on: “Daddy, don’t…”

Over the table she went, with both her hands locked in the small of her back by Jack’s firm grip. The show started. If Jack didn’t feel the need to lecture Alex on his misbehaving, his speech was quite impressive when it came to Ashley’s crimes. “You don’t throw tantrums, you hear me?” She moved frantically and only the jeans huddled at her ankles stopped her feet from flying in the air.

All this before he’s even started, Alex though. He wondered how long it would take her to give up the fight.

“You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t go to parties without our approval. And you don’t stay past your curfew time. Do I make myself clear?”

She promised to behave, she swore never to touch alcohol again; she would never be late again; she’d never go anywhere without asking her parents first. She dissolved into tears before she had gotten a quarter of what Alex had gotten. Soon Jack let go of her, stood back, and watched her. Her mouth wide open, saliva dripping out onto the table, she wailed as if she had been cut into pieces.

“Alright, get up,” Jack said. He was also panting and rivulets of perspiration ran down his temples. “We’ll have a talk tomorrow, both of you. And with you, Ashley, I am most certainly not done. You are still drunk.” He stood her up and helped her pull up her underwear and pants, leaving them unzipped. “Clara!” - he called and the woman appeared in the room immediately.
She’s been waiting at the door all this time, Alex thought.
“Can you please help Ashley get to bed?”
Alex watched his mother shushing Ashley, wiping her eyes and nose. She gave Alex a troubled look, as if she wished she could help him too.

“Alex,” Jack said, moving in front of his son. “Look at me.”
The boy wiped his mouth with his sleeve nervously. He looked into his Dad’s dark eyes.
“What went through your mind when you did this to your sister? And what went through your mind when you got that fake ID?”
The kid shrugged his shoulders. He feared his Dad’s lectures as much as the actual spankings. The shame made him feel small again. “I’m sorry,” was all he could whisper.
“I thought I could trust you. I’m really disappointed in you.”
The pressure in Alex’s sinuses began to build again.
“Dad, it won’t happen again. I swear it won’t.”
Jack shook his head at him and sighed.
“Just go to bed.”
“Dad, please,” Alex begged.
“Go, I said.”
Alex turned slowly to the door. “I’m sorry,” he said again. He really meant it. Right now he just wished he could take everything back. He also wished he could sleep at night. But his guilt and remorse would not let him. He knew that for sure.

Spanked for Being a Brat

2008-02-02T18:57:00.000+02:00

There is a very thin line between deserving and needing a spanking. Sometimes the distinction is inexistent.

Today I needed - although not so sure about deserving one. In my view, I was acting up again like I normally do. Jack always feels it, but sometimes he does something about it - read: grabs my arm and spanks me - and sometimes he doesn't. Today he only said, "Stop playing."
"I'm playing."
"Stop it, then."
"But I'm playing," I said again.
"I know you are playing and I am saying don't do it." So I acted up more, without saying a word.

He picked himself up from the chair, took my arm and marched me to the bed. He thought that a hand spanking over my sweatpants would do the trick. Realization might have dawned onto him the moment I began laughing. A more sober realization hit me when my sweatpants and my black boy shorts came down. Pretty much the same time my laughter went.

I think Jack does not always have a plan and builds one as he goes along. In this case, he spanked my butt all around and then decided it would be best to focus on my thighs and my sit spot. No matter how much it hurt, my energy was still pumping funny words and sounds into my mouth. He tried two belts - one being my latest acquisition, from Fox, a dark brown one, very flexible. That one kind of hurt, but not as much as his hand when he went back to slapping my butt.

And when I thought that it cannot go any worse, he dragged me to a chair, sat down, and took me over his lap. I screeched and demanded I be taken back to bed but he did not grant me my wish. At some point, I gave up squirming and grabbed the foot of the chair with one hand or pawed at the carpet.

It was hurting less... but also more. I can't explain what I mean, but my butt was almost numb. It hurt only at the moment of the impact.

I am not bruised or anything - I think - but I have two or three sensitive spots. I am sure they will also be gone by tomorrow.

What's up?

2008-01-28T19:22:00.000+02:00

I haven't posted for a week. When you're lacking ideas it's better you keep quiet. I doubt that anybody wants to hear about my real life adventures, all unrelated to spanking. Therefore I will be easy on your tonight and stop right here.

My state of mind is: dim light, Stephen King books, possibly some horror movies, and a secluded place to isolate my mind and allow my mind to create fantasy plots. No cigarettes and no alcohol. If I were any more religious, I would probably identify this need with the one for prayer or meditation. But my meditation is writing in my head.

I probably miss writing; not spanking stories, but writing writing...

Cheers!

Story: Alex and Alexis: Smart Schemes p.9

2008-01-19T16:19:00.000+02:00

Folks, hello again...

I haven't been too active - except for posting stories -lately because real life is calling with some urgent matters. :) Juju has already given you Part 8. I will give you Part 9. Juju will wrap it up afterwards. :)

This is a a story that Juju and I wrote together. To read the previous chapters, please see the right sidebar or click below:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8

SMART SCHEMES
(MM/mf)
Copyright: Jujubees and KayleyBlue, 2008

A Serious Discussion

“You could have waited till tonight, at least,” Alex mumbled. “Weren’t you saying that if I am too sore I might not feel anything?”
“I have a feeling that you might feel it not only tonight, but the next couple of weeks too. So don’t worry about that; I’ll take care of it. Upstairs, please.”

Alex looked again at Alexis and whispered a “good luck”. A grimace showed on his face when he tried to smile. He wanted to say more, but he hoped his look was enough to give her courage. Sighing, he stood up from the couch, arranged his t-shirt - delaying it in the same time – and, giving his Dad a long look, he starting climbing the stairs. Jack followed him without a word.
As he reached the upper floor, Alex glanced one last time at Alexis. And once he lost contact with her, his emotions seemed to punch him in the stomach, cutting his breath. He had no one to play cool for this time. This time he was alone. Jack followed Alex inside the boy’s room, then closed the door behind.

“Yesterday you were spanked for forging my signature. I am still not quite sure you understand the gravity of what you did.”
Alex nodded. “I do.”
“You do?” – Jack asked surprised.
“Well, now I do. I’m sorry about it. I wasn’t thinking… really…”
“But if you had been thinking you would still have done it.”
Alex didn’t answer. They both knew the answer to that question.
“What am I gonna do with you, Alex?” Jack sighed. He really was puzzled and frustrated. Bending rules was normal. Maybe carelessness was also normal. But some things were more dangerous than others…

“How can I trust you with anything, Alex?”
“You can trust me with many things, Dad… But not with everything.” He tried to smile. “I can’t help it.”
“You can’t help it because you refuse to think.”
“True,” Alex admitted. “And I do feel guilty about it but then you spank me and I’m grounded and well… I get over it.”

Jack watched him for a minute, how he had sunk his hands into his pockets again; and how playful his eyes were, as if this was all but a game. Jack decided to play along, in his own way.

“Alright. I’m not gonna spank you,” he said eventually. “Even though you skipped school, stole my car, lied to me – in my face. You can live with the guilt.”

The remark caused Alex to stare. No, this wasn’t right. Oh, no… His eyes stopped their random movement. His face went blank, in panic.

“It’s only a game for you, Alex, isn’t it?”- Jack went at him.
“No… How can it be a game, Dad? Are you serious?”
“I am. But you are not. For you it’s only a fucking game of playing hide-and-seek. Trying to get away with as much as you can so you can brag about it. And the fact that you get caught it’s only a minor setback for you, isn’t it? “

Alex blushed furiously. He was caught red-handed, without even knowing up till now that all these smart plans and schemes and shit were just meant for this.
“So let’s see how not spanking you will fit in your plans, hm?”

There was no answer. Tears began forming in the boy’s eyes. It wasn’t fair. Being caught like this was more humiliating… I mean… His plans… He screwed up. He could have gotten his Dad in jail. He could have ended up himself in juvenile detention. He was so fucking guilty. How come he never felt this guilty before? And then, where did the speech he made to Alexis come from, if he – Nothing made sense anymore.

“Dad, I’m not playing…” – He said. “I’m really sorry. I do feel guilty. It has nothing to do with games, I swear.” He swallowed hard, then, eyes down, he began unbuckling his belt.
Jack didn’t ask for more explanations. He slid slowly the belt out of the loops, watching a very repentant Alex lower his jeans. The kid hesitated for a few moments, as if unsure that this was what he really wanted. He surely didn’t ask for a spanking! Oh, no…

“Boxers too. We’re not playing games anymore, Ales. A deal is a deal. You did what you did, you understood the gravity of it, now it’s time to face the consequences. You were aware of them but you chose very smartly to ignore them. Don’t look at me like that! It was your decision. So I’m afraid the boxers come down too.”

Alex stalled again, still unsure. “Daaaad…”
“Now, Alex. Now.”

His hands began slightly shaking as his mind dived into a different reality. Once again he was wrong. Once again Jack had brought him to the point of admitting defeat. He lowered his boxers and laid face down on the bed, face hidden in his crossed arms. That was it. Once again, he was doomed. He felt like crying even before the spanking had started. His mind was a blurry mess. He was uncertain of how or what he felt. Things came back to him quite fast though, the moment the belt touched his already sensitive backside. He wanted to stand up and say: “Ok, that’s it, I have changed my mind”; but he couldn’t. He was too proud for that. And he was guilty.
Jack didn’t say a word for a long time - just let the belt do the talking. That was until the moment Alex lost control of himself and started twisting. Jack stopped and gave him time to gather himself. They both became aware of Alexis’ cries coming from downstairs.

“This is not a game, Alex,” Jack finally said. “I am quite sure that right now you think the same thing. I just wish you would make the right choices before we reached this point.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, but it was the kind of apology coming from the intense desire to put an end to the pain. And Jack recognized it for what it was. There was still resistance left inside of his son. He could read it in his tone.

“Hands in front of you… Spread them Alex.” The kid obeyed.
Let’s take the familiarity and comfort away from him, and see what happens, Jack thought.
“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered again. Another tentative to stop what was still coming. But Jack started spanking again, and this time, unable to bury his mouth into his arms and muffle his screams, Alex cried in pain. He lost track of how many “I’m sorry”’s he had yelled and mumbled until Jack stopped to ask: “Sorry for what?”
“Sorry for breaking the car and lying…”

This was not the answer Jack had expected. He shook his head, sighed, and went on turning his son’s butt into a dark shade of red. The reactions that came were strong. And the excuses went on. So did the apologies. Then the kid stopped apologizing and his cries turned into sobs. He cried so hard he didn’t know what had hit him. Pain was not it. It was the frustration of another lost game and the realization of it.

Jack put the belt aside and sat down next to Alex, patting his back.
“Why am I crying?” – he heard Alex say. “I’m seventeen and I’m crying…” Which made him cry even more. “I’m such an idiot… “
“You might be foolish, but idiocy is not in your genes. Trust me.”
Alex shook his head.
“I am so fucked up, Dad. I really am. You don’t know anything about me. I played. You were right. It was all a game and it was exciting and stuff. And I really like Alexis, you know? I could have gotten you in jail! I could have fucked up her life forever!”
“Yes, you could have but you didn’t.” Jack reached to his perspired forehead and wiped it with his hand, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Now you know better. And I hope next time you’ll think twice before doing something like this.”

Alex nodded, trying to calm himself down.
“This is so not cool,” Alex said slowly.
“Yeah. You’re right.” – Jack laughed. “But it’s between you and me. No one has to know what we talked about in here. You can still be cool with your stinging butt and red eyes when you go downstairs for lunch.”

Alex nodded.
“Good. Pull up your jeans then and go wash your face. Start acting your age and stop being a spoilt brat. I’m still blaming your Grandmother, Rose, for this - in case your mother asks.”
Alex managed to laugh a little. He pushed up his butt and dragged his boxers over his soar butt. Jack picked up his belt. “I’ll see you downstairs in ten minutes.”

Alex nodded. But he still needed time to gather his thoughts. He lay there for a while, jeans still at his ankles; He was in pain, but relieved. His mind started wondering towards Alexis. Maybe she needed comforting. And up he was again, buttoning his jeans, and rushing for the bathroom to wash his face.

Story: Alex and Alexis: Smart Schemes p.7

2008-01-17T22:12:00.000+02:00

This is a a story that Juju and I wrote together. To read the previous chapters, please see the right sidebar or click below:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

Part 7 contains two mini-chapters. I wrote the second one for fun. I just had this funny picture in my mind and I had to exploit it.

SMART SCHEMES
(MM/mf)
Copyright: Jujubees and KayleyBlue, 2008

The One in the Bathroom

The water in the shower was running, as Alex scrubbed himself furiously. His backside was still hurting, but he had chosen to ignore the pain. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to totally forget about tonight or remember it; you don’t get spanked everyday together with a girl. And certainly not at this age. The hot water ran down over his face.

“Alex?” – Alexis’s voice came from the other side of the bathroom door. “Hey, can I come in, please?”

When she opened the door, he wiped his face with his hands and popped his head out from behind the gliding door.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, pretty face,” he said. “What would they say if they found us both in here?”
“That frosted glass is not even transparent, so chill… Besides,” she sighed, “they are busy catching up on old times.”

He could feel her detached tone. Somehow she was monosyllabic in the way she was forming sentences.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
She shrugged absent-mindedly. “Do you happen to have a spare toothbrush?”
“We usually do. See in that cabinet. Not that one… the one on the left. Yeah. There.”
“Thanks.” She ran the hot water.

Without complaining on the sudden rush of cold water from his shower, he concluded: “Ok, it seems I cannot take a shower, so hand me the towel please…”
She did. She brushed her teeth paying him no attention. Alex stepped out with only the towel wrapped around his waist, hair wet and ruffled. He waited patiently for her to rinse her mouth.

“So, pretty face, what’s wrong?” – He said turning her around to face him.
“I just got spanked in front of your Dad and everyone else, remember?”
“’Everyone else’ being me, yes?” He was smiling. “So?”
Alexis watched him speechless. “So?” – She repeated incredulously.
“So what if you got spanked in front of everyone? I also did.”
“But you’re a guy! Guys don’t give a shit about those kinds of things.”
“Says the expert in male behavior?”
“You don’t understand” – she shook her head.
“Oh, I certainly do. You’re fussing too much over it. I know you don’t want me to say that… but that’s the truth. If you are concerned about me seeing something – I didn’t see shit, since you were behind that couch. You think your Dad would have taken the risk of two others guys seeing stuff? Besides, butts… well, butts are all the same…”
“Stop amusing yourself. It’s not funny.”
“It’s not a tragedy either. Relax! And you know they were right. We both knew.”

She sat on the toilet seat.
“Listen,” he said lowering himself on his knees, to her level, “if you want my advice – don’t piss him off more when you see he is ticked off. Be smarter than that.”
“So spoke the expert who’s been throwing cutlery all over the table and poking at the front seat?”
“So spoke the expert who saw after a while that there was no way out… yes.”
She paused. She didn’t look at him.

“It’s humiliating… Even though I’m getting used to it.” – she was almost smiling.
“Why? You’re looking at the picture in the wrong way – there are parents who spank and parents who don’t. I’m not speaking of tonight because tonight was an exception. But your Dad doesn’t know how else to handle you and you’re really not leaving him with any other possibility either. Ok, I do the same many times… but you are really pushing it, instead of going with it. Going with it makes it easier for you. You know this won’t be the last time when you get spanked.”

She was really smiling by now.
“Ok, smart guy, show me your butt,” she suddenly prompted him.
The request had taken him by surprise. “What?”
“Show me your butt. I wanna see how it looks. I could only see your face from where I was and now I wanna see your butt.”
“You know, I always thought a girl might want to see my front before she sees my butt…”
“Obviously, you were wrong.”
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”
“What are you, ten?”
He raised his arms.
“Ok, fine, but you go first,” she said.
He did.
She did too.
“Well, it’s not *that* bad.” – he remarked.
“?!”

“Ok. Enough. That’s it. Get your red ass out of my bathroom and let me finish what I was doing!” He patted her bottom jokingly.
“Were you gonna jerk off in the shower?” She laughed.
“Out!” – he said, pushing her playfully into the corridor. “And stay there.”
He heard her giggle.

The One with the Concerned Grandmother

After breakfast the next morning, Jack finally managed a phone call home.

“Yes, hon, we are fine,” Jack walked inside the house, carefully holding the mobile phone with his dirty hands. He had been busy helping Drew fix the car. He wiped his hands on a towel he found in the kitchen. “I was just fixing the car with a friend. I’m sorry I forgot to call you last night. Is you mother feeling better? … Yes, Alex is also fine.” He looked at Alex who was playing with Alexis’ hair and reading to her from a magazine. “Of course I did! ... Tell your mother that I’ve heard that! She is exaggerating, as always. … I heard that too. ... Now tell her to mind her own business. … Yeah, I’m thrilled that she wants to speak to me. ... No, I wasn’t being sarcastic...” He saw Alex raising his eyes from the magazine, watching him carefully, as if waiting for something. Long live the savior!

“Hello, Rose. I’m glad to hear that you are feeling better. ... He is ok and no, spanking is not child abuse. You are reading the wrong magazines. … Those idiots don’t know what they are talking about. … He is fine, for God’s sake! … You most certainly won’t. Hold on a second, please…” He looked at Alex who returned fast to reading his magazine.
“Alex, have you told your grandmother that you wanted a motorcycle for your birthday?”
“I might have mentioned something,” Alex said innocently.
Jack rolled his eyes.

“Rose, Alex is not getting any motorcycle for his birthday. … Because it is dangerous. … No, Rose, you’re not sending him any money and most certainly you are not buying him that. Small or big. … Over my dead body. Maybe you should read more about teenagers dying in wreckless motorcycle accidents. I think it beats the score of those dying from spankings. … Ok. Now can I talk to my wife again, please?” He sighed and extended the phone to Alex.
“She wants to talk to you first. You are most definitely not getting a motorcycle for your birthday so get it out of your head!”

Alex sighed and took the phone.
“Yeah, hi, Gramma… I’m ok. … He kinda did, yeah...” He was happy to get his father in trouble so he grinned at him while talking with his grandmother. “Of course I am too old to be spanked! But try telling him that… He actually spanked me –”

“Alex!” – Jack roared from next to him and snatched the phone away.
“That’s enough Rose! You’re putting things into his head. He’s my child and I educate him the way I see fit. Now I want to talk to my wife please. Thank you!”

Alex started laughing as soon as Jack got out of the house, fuming, to help Drew with the truck.
Alexis giggled also. “You are so evil!”
“Yeah, I know,” he said kissing her forehead.

Story: Alex and Alexis: Smart Schemes p.6

2008-01-16T19:45:00.000+02:00

Here comes Chapter 6 from our talented Juju. ;) I'm sure most of you want to know what happened to Alexis. *weg* So, in case you haven't visited yet, it's time to go and say hello to "Alexis Gets A Turn".

Story: Alex and Alexis: Smart Schemes p.5

2008-01-15T19:01:00.000+02:00

This is a a story that Juju and I wrote together. To read the previous chapters, please see the right sidebar or click below:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

This is one of those parts where we wrote a lot together. It is also understandable why. ;)

SMART SCHEMES
(MM/mf)
Copyright: Jujubees and KayleyBlue, 2008

The One Where the Trip Comes to an End

Drew was disappointed in Alexis, but very glad she was at least safe. He stood outside for a minute and looked at Jack. “So what do you think, Doc? Where do we start with these two: dinner, a stern lecture?”
“I think we need to get the whole story out of them. Alex is in big trouble and he knows it.”

“Oh, so is my daughter. That look on her face is her ‘I’m fucked’ look. She knows she might not be sitting for a week.” Drew said.

Jack looked at him curiously. “You mean you plan to spank her?”
“Well, Jack, I’ve only been at this father thing for a short time, but when it comes to Alexis she responds to one thing and one thing only: my belt. I told you she’s a juvenile delinquent. She knew that would be her fate the second she started planning this shit.” Drew laughed a little.

“But I don’t mind watching her squirm for awhile, waiting. She knows it’s coming, but with the grief these two have put us through, a little more suffering on their part can’t be all that bad.”
“Maybe we should make dinner first and let them squirm some more?” - Jack asked.
“I like the way you think.” Drew smiled. “Besides, if I don’t take time to cool off some I’m liable to really hurt Alexis, more than I intended.”

***

Alex was flipping absently through the channels, Alexis resting her back against him, when Jack and Drew came inside the house. Drew shook his head in astonishment – the two kids seemed so peaceful. That instant he knew that Alexis had a crush on the boy. He gave Jack a long look, to which Jack simply shrugged.

Drew hung his leather jacket at the entrance, as Jack placed the food on the kitchen counter.
“Alright, you two,” Jack said. That seemed to grab both kids’ attention, as they turned to look at him with scared faces. “It’s time for dinner. Set the table. Then, Alex, you might want you give that stare you are giving me right now to the corner over there.”

“Whaaaat? – Alex protested. “You’ve never made me stand in the corner before.” He turned scarlet. “I’m not five anymore.”
Jack stopped unpacking the food.
“Set the table, Alex. I’m not in the mood for chatting.”

Alex stomped to the kitchen, fuming, followed by a very apprehensive Alexis – the kind that Drew hadn’t seen before. She didn’t dare comment on anything anymore. Drew was a ticking bomb, and she had no wish to make it explode in front of her boyfriend.

Alexis was quite good-tempered at this point (or tried to be), somehow relieved that nothing was coming her way. Alex had managed to get all the attention for now. He was slamming the glasses and basically throwing the cutlery all around the table. Alexis put a hand on his as she passed by, trying to calm him down, but as the time was passing, he was becoming more vexed and more frustrated.

“There. Happy?” – Alex retorted to his Dad, when he had finished.
“Alex, stop it… You’re gonna get in trouble,” Alexis whispered to him, sitting herself at the table.
Drew and Jack exchanged looks for an instant, before Jack turned to Alex: “So what are you waiting for then? Put your nose into that corner, please.”
Alex crossed his arms over his chest, silently.
Jack grabbed the wooden spoon, purposely heading towards Alex.
“Ok, I’m going, I’m going… Geez!” – He stomped, but moved quite fast out of his father’s path. This was embarrassing. He sighed and put his nose in the corner. What a fucked up evening!

“Alexis, you too,” Drew said, checking on the chicken in the oven.
“Dad, you gotta be kidding…”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” – He was mad, she knew it.
Alexis stood up. I mean if Alex was in the corner, she could also be. I mean, it was bad, but having her boyfriend in the same situation made the situation look less uncomfortable.
Now and then one of them would sigh, as loudly as they dared to, making it clear that they were not enjoying it. “Can I come out now?” – Alexis asked suddenly.

“No,” Drew said. “You will stand there until dinner is ready.”

“And isn’t it ready yet, for fuck’s sake?” – Alex mumbled. Jack was behind him in an instant. The sound of the belt being unbuckled weakened his knees. He thought he would fall. Alexis turned her head around from the corner, in shock. It wasn’t the surprise to find out that Alex might get spanked that shocked her; it was the prospect that if Alex got spanked, she most probably would too.

“Do you want to face that corner with your jeans around your ankles, Alex Pierce?” – Jack asked tapping the belt against his leg.
“No, Sir” – the boy answered, eyes fixing an invisible spot on the corner, not daring to shift his look around. He swallowed the knot in his throat.
“But you act as if you want. And you are very convincing.” – Jack went on behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Alex babbled, losing his grip on the control he thought he was having.
“Turn around and look at me.” Alex did, eyes cast down. “Look at me, I said.” Alex tried to. Jack was shocked to discover the moistened eyes. He wasn’t expecting that. But he didn’t make a comment on it.
“Do I need to have a chat with you before dinner or do you think you can behave?” – He questioned. “Alex?”
“No need to have a chat,” Alex answered, blushing even more.
Jack pointed with the belt towards the chair.
“Sit down, please.”
Alex did, but he was looking down, trying to avoid the shame by avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Drew scooped the rice into a bowl.
“Alexis, get the chicken from the oven, please” – He said, aware of his daughter’s glare at Alex.
She moved as if she was hypnotized. Normally she would have started to argue but now she was freaked out; her rebel self hid deep inside. Normally she would have also wanted to get it over with as soon as possible and would have pushed Drew to spank her, but this time she was doing everything possible to delay it. She still hoped she had a chance.

The chicken smelled great, but she had lost her appetite. She placed it on the plate and sat herself next to Alex. Under the table, she slipped her hand over his, trying to comfort him. Until now all she cared about was herself; now, there was also her boyfriend in the picture.

They couldn’t eat. They took a few bites, to avoid their fathers’ nagging them. Drew and Jack cleaned the table, placed the rest of the food in the fridge and the dirty dishes in the dish washer. Then Jack rested his back against the wall, watching them. Drew retrieved a paper out of his pocket, placing it in front of his daughter, on the table. Alexis panicked. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. She caught Alex’s distressed look. Now I’m in trouble, he seemed to say.
“So, what’s your explanation for this medical note?” – Drew questioned her. It felt as if she was back in detention again.
“Um,” she said, looking back at Alex again. “I…”
There was no explanation really. Everything she had to say was going to get her into deeper shit.

Jack intervened. “Alex, what did you ask me a few days ago at home? Weren’t you asking me about diseases and I told you Cholecistitis? Please correct me if I am wrong…”

Alex twisted his fingers nervously.

Jack brushed his hair with his fingers. He needed to calm down.
“Ok. Let me ask you this then,” he said picking up the note and pushing it under his son’s nose, “have you stolen this from me and forged my signature and handwriting?”
“It was a mistake. It won’t happen again,” Alex risked a look up at his father.
“And have you used it yourself in class and then also dragged Alexis into this scheme?”

Silence.

“Are you aware that for this I can get in jail and have my medical license removed?”
No word came out of either of the two.

“Alex!” – Jack boomed, and the boy looked up in panic.
“I’m sorry…”
“That wasn’t my question. Are you aware that you can get expelled for using and selling fakes like this and be sent to a juvenile correction center?”

Alex sighed.

“Of course you were. I can’t imagine you being almost seventeen and not knowing that. So what went through your head when you did this?”
“Many are doing it.”
“That’s hardly an excuse, as you well know it.”
“Alexis, that goes for you too,” Drew said. “Now you are not only hurting yourself and your future. You are becoming a full-time delinquent, having no consideration for others. For this prank you’ve pulled, as you’ve heard, he could have ended up in jail. Has that crossed your mind before you used that medical release?”

Her eyes started filling with tears of frustration. She shook her head ‘no’. It really hasn’t. She had been all too focused on herself and how to skip school and avoid Drew to care about others.
“You skipped school again. You lied to me again. You went on a trip without letting me know, you rode in a stolen car. I could even venture to say that you did other things, but I have no proof of it.” “Yet” – he added.

“I just wanted a break, Dad,” she cried.
At least she is communicating, not stubbornly closing inside, like she used to, Drew thought.
“And is this the way to achieve it?” – Drew asked.
“No.”
“I’m happy we finally agree on something.”
“But you don’t understand,” she shouted. “You’re always checking on me! I have no freedom! I can’t live like this! I am tired of school!” She stomped her foot.
“If you don’t calm down and lower your tone, you will get back into that corner over there, until you are ready to speak to me without yelling.” – Drew pointed out. “What did you do the moment I stopped checking on you, Alexis?”

She refused to answer, shaking her head.

“Well, then let me help you remember: you disappeared again. So give me one good reason why I should trust you at all. With anything.”
She didn’t answer. She pouted. The tears were silently rolling down her cheeks.
“I hate you,” she tried again to hide inside her world.
“I love you too, sweetheart. And for sharing that with me, please go face that corner. I warned you once already.”
“This is not fair!” – She cried.
“You know damn well it is. Now move it. When you have calmed down, let me know. I have all weekend, you know…” She moved with small steps back into the corner.

Alex and Jack were watching. It was a ping-pong game. One at a time being charged at, and the ball being passed from Jack to Drew.

“Back to you, Alex,” – Jack said, opening a closet and searching for something. “It seems to me that the belt is not working well enough for you anymore.” He stood up with a slipper in his hand; he tapped the rubber sole a few times against his hand. It wouldn’t bruise; just sting a lot – exactly what he needed, given that he had no plans to have Alex get away with one simple spanking. “In two months you will be seventeen. A few months ago I spanked you for blatant disobedience and getting suspended for three days from school.” Alexis’ ears opened wide. Ok. Now being compulsively careful made sense. She knew Alex was just playing cool about his punishments. He was just bragging. She had known it all along. “Prior to that, I spanked you for drinking and drugs.” Wow, his list was as long as hers, Alexis thought. “And even before that, you got another spanking for dragging two girls into the woods with you and getting them lost.”

“We weren’t lost!” – Alex mumbled again.

“Alex!” – Jack warned him, raising his voice. “I remember you saying that you don’t repeat the mistakes you get spanked for. But this time you did. I think it’s been too long since you last got your ass tanned, mister. You corrupted her” – he pointed to Alexis, in the corner – “got her also in trouble, and stole my car! And skipped school again. And to top it all off, you forged my signature. Haven’t I spanked you in junior high for that once? I thought I made it clear back then. Or has it been too long ago and the impression didn’t last?”

“Daaaad… Pleeeaaseee…” – Alex said, becoming aware of Jack’s intention with the slipper. He could hardly control his calm by now. This was not routine. He could have handled routing. But he couldn’t handle this.

“Dad? “Alexis’s small voice interrupted from the corner. “Can I come out now?”
“If I hear you yell one more time, your nose will be right back there in that corner.” Drew was skeptical. “Go sit in that armchair over there. I’ll talk to you in a second.” He got himself a glass of water so he could think. He wondered what went through Alexis’ head right now. He could recognize her rebel attitude, but her attitude right now had changed.
Alexis cuddled her knees up to her chest as she took her seat.

“You,” she heard Jack say to Alex, “bend over the back of the sofa.”
Alex freaked out.
“Dad, no. You can’t do this to me…”

Jack knew that arguing with his son was getting him nowhere, so out of experience, he yanked him up from the chair and dragged him to the sofa. “You aren’t arguing with me today, mister. Jeans down.” The boy’s face was as hot as if he had been sun tanning in the Sahara sun the whole day. “Unbuckle your belt,” Jack explained to him patiently, “and pull down those jeans. Or should I do it for you?” That got Alex’s fingers moving. He caught for a short instance Alexis’ stare of disbelief. He carefully lowered his jeans. Jack placed a hand over the back of his neck and pushed him down, over the back of the sofa. “Boxers too.” – he added, waiting patiently beside him.

“No. Dad no.”

“Alex?”

He complied, lowering his chin into his chest, for no one to see his expression. When he looked up, Alexis’ eyes locked his. She was sitting right across from him, extremely uncomfortable about the whole thing. Drew was observing the scene from the doorway, in between the open kitchen and the living room, resting his shoulder against the wall. He couldn’t help but think of the time he and Jack had been spanked together for stealing apples from a neighbor’s garden. They had been in junior high then and that hard lesson had worked for them. They stayed out of trouble for a long time. That experience helped Drew realize that spanking can work. It had worked for him and Jack, so it could work for Alex and Alexis too. The same memory was going through Jack’s mind. As for Alexis, she watched the scene mesmerized. She had wondered how a guy would take a spanking. Now she was about to find out.

Jack lifted the tail of Alex’s shirt to his waist.

The sound of the slipper slapping the flesh was deafening in the deep silence of the room. Alex had turned himself on mute. He was determined not to let a sound out. At least that much he could do for his poor self image. He found himself looking for comfort into her eyes, instead of gazing into a fixed point on the couch.

“You should know better than to steal and use medical notes and forge my signature, Alex…” – Jack said, bringing the slipper down again. Again and again, the sound echoing from the walls into the whole house. Alex’s nails dug deep in the fabric of the sofa. The pain was different and he wasn’t accustomed to it. He took deep breaths, forcing himself not to jump up or put his hand back. The slaps were slow paced, but hard.

“Was it worth forging my signature now, Alex?”
Alex gulped in between the swats and his voice was choked: “No, Sir.”

He closed his eyes as the pain increased. He put his head down, buried it in his arm. Jack went on, increasing the pace, covering every inch of his son’s butt, from thighs to upper legs. Alex began jumping up now and then, unable to control himself. “Oww,” he whispered and the same moment his hand went back. Jack grabbed it and went on. Alex found himself unable to keep still. He started moving frantically, pressing his mouth onto his arm to keep himself quiet, biting his own flesh. He was breathing hard, sobbing, and silent tears were running down his cheeks.

“Are you going to forge my signature again? Lie to my face like you did this week?”
“No, Sir.”
“I have asked you if you were going to skip school again and you had the nerve to look into my eyes and tell me not to worry. Isn’t that what you did?”
“Yes, Sir,” his muffled voice came.

Jack stopped for a few moments watching Alex’s reaction. The kid did not move, simply went on sobbing silently into his arm.
“I remember distinctly talking to you two years ago about not using fake medical notes for skipping school, because I knew we would come to this. Have we or haven’t we had that discussion, Alex?”
“We did.”
“And you promised back then never to do it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Dad.”

Jack put an arm around Alex’s waist and starting spanking in earnest, fast and hard. Alex jumped, screeched, puffed, but did not cry out. He pounded his leg into the sofa, arched his back in pain, and when it was too much to take, he went limp, sobbing like a kid, tears falling down from his chin on his arms and on the fabric of the furniture.

“When I’m done here, Alex, forging signatures and using fake medical notes will become the worst memory of your life, trust me.” - Jack went on, making sure the butt was equally red and trying not to leave bruises on the skin. Prolonged pain was worse than the short intense one - he knew it for a fact. As for the bruises, he will take care of them tomorrow, so Alex would remember every single day of this week and the next one what he wasn’t supposed to do. He finished with a few particularly sharp slaps, on Alex’s thighs and upper legs, which made Alex gasp for air, ignore the witnesses and bring his tear-stained face up. He screamed this time, hand trying to reach back but being caught and brought to the small of his back.

Alexis covered her face, completely freaked out.

Jack stopped, leaving his sobbing son over the back of the couch to calm down.

“Stand up and pull up your pants,” he said eventually. He replaced the slipper on the table.
Alex reached down carefully for his boxers. He tried to hide his face from everyone, constantly wiping his eyes and his nose.

Alexis wished the earth could swallow her. She was shaking.

Story: Alex and Alexis: Smart Schemes p.4

2008-01-14T19:24:00.000+02:00

This is a a story that Juju and I wrote together. To read the previous chapters, please see the right sidebar or click below:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

SMART SCHEMES
(MM/mf)
Copyright: Jujubees and KayleyBlue, 2008

The One When the Car Stops Working

“Fuck!” – He said, hitting the wheel of the car repeatedly. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He turned the key again into ignition but the starter was not working.

“Shit…” – Alexis joined in, watching blankly the road. Her mind was already twisting and she had that familiar feeling of panic going up her spine. “You can’t start it anymore?”

“No. I don’t fucking get it! Two minutes ago it was perfectly fine. I only stopped to buy these shitty crackers so I don’t stink of booze and now the crappy thing won’t start…”

“Do you think it’s something to do with the engine? Or maybe an electrical circuit broke?...”

“How the fuck should I know? Look. The lights are working… How can this be happening? Why? It was ok a moment ago.”

He sighed, lied back in the seat, eyes closed.
“What the fuck am I gonna do? Damn fucking car!” He hit the wheel one more time.

Alexis kept silent. This couldn’t be happening to her. Everything was finely planned. Everything went ok, until this. As if she was doomed not to be able to have fun and have her father always find her.

“And there is no fucking car passing by either,” she sighed, trying to control her temper. “What about the guy with the gas station? Can’t he help?”

“I’ll go ask,” Alex said unbuckling his belt and getting slowly out of the car.

She remained inside, feeling quite helpless. If the circuit was cut or faulted in any way, there was no way they could get out of there without help.

Alex came back and slammed the door. “He doesn’t know shit about cars, it appears…”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. If I call the company to tow us, the car is on my Dad’s name and he’ll find out anyway. And we’ll be late anyway… and the car is missing. I’m in such big shit.”
“Me too.”

He turned to look at her, while taking out his cell phone.
“Are you serious? You’re a girl. I think you’re worrying for nothing. Look, I’ll try to talk to my friend, maybe he can take his Dad’s car and come drag us out of this shit…”
He began searching for the number. His hands were trembling slightly but he was trying to control them, at least in front of her. This could not be happening. Not a second time in front of his girlfriend.

The phone started ringing and Alex almost dropped it.
“Who is it?” – She wanted to know, bending over his lap to look at the screen. “Fuck…” She went back to her seat, grabbing it tight with both hands, as if she was in a plane ready to crash. “Are you gonna answer,” she whispered.
“I don’t know…”
The phone kept ringing.
“What am I gonna say?”
“A lie. But please don’t get me in trouble,” she begged.

His shaky finger pressed the green key. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
His mind cleared in an instant, as the surviving instinct kicked in. His friend, Alexis, was biting her nails, unaware of what she was actually doing. Alex looked at her, as if asking for moral support, but she wasn’t there. Her mind was as gone as his.
“Dad?... I’m gonna be a bit late tonight… I’m really sorry but…”
“Where are you?” The voice was that of someone who knew. And again, Alex could only picture his Dad arriving home early – for God knows what reason – and not finding the car.
“Around the city… I had to go check on a friend. Sorry.”
“Alex, don’t make me repeat this again, for your own sake. Where – are – you?”

Alex took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to say. She watched him turn white. And his voice trembled when he answered.
“I took the car out a bit.”
“I am aware of that. And so is Alexis’s father. So you tell me right now where you are, mister.”

“I can’t start the car anymore, Dad…” – Alex mumbled. “I’m so sorry. I swear it’s the last time it happens.”
“Alex!”
“I’m next to the gas station next to our cottage.”
“Excuse me?” There was a pause and he could hear the heavy breathing of his father, trying to calm himself down. “Why isn’t the car starting?” – He asked patiently, after what seemed an eternity.
Alex rubbed his forehead. “Dunno. Everything died.”
“Is Alexis with you?”

Alex nodded, turning back to look at his friend with a strange and guilty look. Nooo- she kept shaking her head.
“Alex?”
“Yes, she is, Dad.”
“Put her through. Her father wants a word with her. And you, mister, don’t move an inch from where you are. We are coming to get you. You heard me? Stay inside and lock your doors.”
“Am I… in trouble?” – He whispered.
“Yes. Put Alexis on the phone please.”

The One When They Talk

It was getting dark outside.
“I can’t just sit here and wait,” Alex said.
“I would appreciate if you did, however,” Alexis said. “I’m in enough trouble already.”
“Sure you are,” he said, but as much as he wanted he couldn’t hide the sarcastic tone. “You know what? We’re gonna be just fine. We just need a very good excuse.”

Alexis sighed. She wanted to run. But this time, this time she simply couldn’t. He would find her again, and again, and again. There was no fucking way out. She just wanted it to be over.

“Did your Dad say anything about how he found out?” – She asked, trying to ease the bad feeling she had inside. She hoped – and how she hoped! – that Drew hadn’t found the doctor’s note.
“No.”

For fifteen minutes none of them spoke. They both made plans on how to avoid the spanking. And what worried them even more was the prospect of the other one finding out that spanking was still happening in their house. They wanted to complain to each other, but their pride didn’t let them. They both played as cool as they could.

“I’ll probably get grounded for a month,” Alex said, finally. Mostly because he needed to get it off his chest – at least partially.
“Me too. He’ll be watching me like a hawk again, for God knows how long. Right when I was this close to winning his trust back!”
“Fuck! He’ll cut off my Internet.”
“And I won’t be able to go out anymore, not even with Lizzie. And I’ll be locked in the house doing chores and homework.”
“I had a baseball match next week. And I had tickets for the Yankees.”
“We’re screwed.”
“We are.”

Ten more minutes passed.
“Where do you think they are now?” – Alexis asked. It was taking too long. It was like being made to wait in the corner.
Alex shrugged. Then silence fell again, each one of them minding his own thoughts.

“Ok. I’m nervous,” Alex said again. “Let’s kiss.”
“What?”
“Let’s kiss. It will ease the tension. I would say let’s make out or have a quickie but that would get us in trouble.”
“You are fucking out of your minds.”
“Why? Because I don’t wanna go nuts worrying about what will happen to us?”
“How can you want to kiss or make out now?”
“Hey, don’t blame me! It’s my hormones. Let’s try at least. C’mon.”
“Alex, I am in no fucking mood to fuck right now.”
“Not fuck. Kiss. C’mooon…”
She couldn’t help but smile. Alright, he was as nuts as she was. Maybe even more, but that was because of the hormones, as he had dutifully explained to her.

“It will release the endorphins so it will make us happier…”
“What? You are a doctor now?”
“No, but I read lots of crap while looking for diseases and some things stick to your mind, you know?”
Alexis thought for a second. What was the worst thing that could happen?
“Alright then.”

It was a bit awkward at the beginning, as if they were both testing the waters, seeing what everything’s about. Then again, the damn hormones took over them, and Alex soon found himself reaching for her breasts, and nibbling on her ear.
“Alex, stop it,” she whispered.
“We’re just kissing, relax,” he whispered, his heavy breath whistling in her ear.
“You’re touching my breasts,” she pointed out.
“Sorry.” His hand moved towards her nape, entangling slowly his fingers into her dark silky hair. His lips lingered on her neck.
“They might come any second now,” she whispered.
“We have time.”

Alexis was startled by the sharp light cutting through the darkness and invading the privacy of the car. She pushed him away fast. “Fuck. Stop it.”

The motorcycle stopped in front of their Ford Explorer Sport Trac.

Alexis tried her best to stop the tears forming in her eyes. It was going to be so embarrassing. “It’s my Dad. I am so fucking dead. Oh fuck… I am so fucking dead…”
“Try to calm down. It cannot be that bad…” – he patted her hand, but his own legs had frozen. He unlocked the doors and stepped out of the car, slowly. He had no idea what he was going to say.

Drew propped the motorcycle his, eyes searching for his daughter: he spotted her - she hadn’t run yet, which was quite an achievement.

Alex had remained rooted next to the car’s front door, unable to move. He sunk again his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down, teeth gritted. Jack covered the distance between them in two steps. Oh, God, just let him slap me and finish the rest at home. The slap did not come though; Jack only grabbed his arm, dragged him and pushed him over the hood of the car in one second, then, without Alex having time to realize anything, a rain of swats landed on his ass. And before he had time to protest, the same firm hand grabbed him again bringing him to his feet. “Get your ass in the car. Back seat. Now!” His face was scarlet when he got on. He could imagine what Alexis was thinking about him right now.

Watching Alex get spanked shocked Alexis a little, but she was more worried about her own ass. She knew her dad was pissed off. The little show had brought her back to reality, and the look on Drew’s face made things even worse. No. He cannot do the same to me. Not in front of Alex. Fuck no. She felt the urge to run – she couldn’t resist - but Drew seized her hand the instant her small body twisted to have a go at the marathon home.

“Alex, watch it,” he warned her in a low taking-no-nonsense-here tone.
“Let go of me.” It was the panic talking. “It’s not fair.”
“Do you want me to take your over the hood of the car next?” He raised his eyebrows. Her muscles relaxed. “I can’t hear you,” he said. Fuck you, she wanted to say, but she knew that would not be a smart move.

She shook her head, very aware of Jack’s and Alex’s eyes on her.
“Get in that truck right now, young lady, and sit your ass down right next to your friend, Alex. Don’t let me catch you moving a muscle! You’re in deep trouble. Don’t make me take my belt off right here – because you know I would. Now go on and march your sorry ass to the truck.”

She tried to protect her dignity by shifting on her heels, as proudly as she could, but she wasted no time getting back to the truck and climbing inside next to Alex. He didn’t say a word; didn’t even look up at her. She knew he was probably embarrassed, but her concern was that it would soon be her that was embarrassed.

“Sorry about that,” she said, understanding perfectly well what he was going through.
He only nodded. He had felt like a five year old. He would have preferred a slap. Even the belt. But not that. That had been the most humiliating shit that had ever happened to him.
“Do you think they know about school and… you know?…” – Alexis asked. Knowing someone else was in deep shit, just like her, had made her relax.
“I have no idea.”
They watched Jack and Drew working on the engine.
“My Dad will fix it. He’s damn good at this kinda shit.” – she said, with an odd proud feeling.

*

“Do you know what you’re doing?” – Jack asked, standing aside and holding the flashlight for Drew to see.
“Can fish swim?”
“Thought so. It’s quite odd how we met again. It was odd how we met in the first place, but this beats them all.” He paused. “Don’t worry, man, they didn’t do it.”
Drew looked up. “How do you know?”
“I know Alex. And you should know your daughter also. They ran after freedom, not to do other stuff.”
“I guess you’re right.” He sighed. “I don’t mind her doing it, I just mind her screwing her life up like I did mine.”
Jack nodded.

“Why did you smack him like that?” – Drew asked. “I have to admit I was surprised.”
“It was a warning. He was preparing to argue already. I didn’t have any intention of doing it, but I saw his attitude the moment I got off this bike – all cool, hands in his pockets, tightened jaws. Honestly, I just wanted to slap him, but then I would have gotten a bunch of protests. But that - that calmed him down instantly. Even face to face with me it would have been embarrassing for him. With your daughter around it was torture.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Both of them knew all about physical punishment first hand, but they weren’t ready to talk about that again, not just yet.

“Yeah. I saw the look on his face afterwards. He didn’t know what hit him, really. It helped me handle Alexis tonight: she was scared shitless because of that –“ Drew paused. “Woah… wait a second! Look at this… Just as I thought” – He mused. “You have a starter plug problem, man... I think I can temporarily fix it but I don’t think it is safe to drive 80 miles home tonight.”

“Can you fix it just to get us to the cottage?”
“I’ll try… But then tomorrow we have to find someone to deliver a replacement. Have any tools at the cottage? For repairing cars and shit?”
“Bunch of them.”
“That’s good news… Maybe I can fix it when the replacement comes…”
How the fuck could a brand new 2007 Ford Explorer Sport Trac break like that? He had to seriously work his magic on it. It took him about ten minutes. “Can you start the car, see if it works?” – He asked Jack.

Jack passed him the flashlight. He found deep silence inside the car. Alexis had rolled on her side, knees up, head resting against the window. Alex had sunk back into the seat, so low he could not see his head, busily playing with his hands. He’s gonna blast soon enough, even before we get home, Jack thought, reading his silent language. He was sorry for Alexis and he felt it was all Alex’s fault. And his too, because he had trusted Alex in the first place.

The car started. Drew closed the hood of the car and came round to Jack’s window. “Help me with the motorcycle. Let’s put it in the back of your truck..”
Leaving the car started, he went to help Drew.

“We should steal the car,” Alexis suddenly said.
“Are you nuts? Where would you go?”
“Wherever…”
“You realize we are both under age and we might end up in detention for a long time? That would be ten times worse.”
She sighed.
“You are such a coward.”
“I’m not a coward. I know when to admit defeat.”
“Same thing.”

Drew’s head poked in from nowhere; he gave Alexis a long look, turned off the engine and took the keys. She raised her hands in the air, in agony, as if saying “now what?”.
“Don’t give me that look, you know perfectly well what!” – He said. “You might be fooling others, young lady, but certainly not me.” He slammed the door.

Alex ceased a smile.
“It’s not funny!” – she admonished him.
“Hell, it certainly is. And I thought I had problems. He doesn’t trust you not even with the keys in the car, two feet away from you.”
Which made her wonder. She didn’t protest this time, but she got an uneasy feeling about it. Drew didn’t trust her with anything anymore and that really hurt. Only now she had realized how it bothered her.

The discussion was interrupted by Drew who got in taking the wheel.
“We talked,” he announced, “and we’re going to the cottage. Jack is going to buy a few things to eat tonight. Tomorrow we’ll do some shopping. You two are not getting that easily off the hook tonight.”
“As if I ever did,” Alexis mumbled in the back.
“If I were you,” Drew said turning around and glaring at her, “I would watch it.”
She bit her tongue in time not to retort with an ‘or what’ – maybe because she didn’t want Alex to hear the answer. It was all about keeping up appearances.

Jack returned with the bags. He passed them to Alex, in the back.
“Have you told them?” – He asked Drew.
“Yeah.”
“Good. So they know we will be here all weekend, right?” The car started moving slowly, turning out into the road and bringing the two teenagers even closer to the dreaded lecture.
“Daad, tomorrow I have…” – Alex protested.
“You’re grounded. The only thing you will have for the next month is a lot of chores around the house and homework to catch up on. End of discussion.”

Alex sunk back in his seat, sulking. There was no dust or small rocks to kick with his foot, so he started repeatedly kicking the seat in front of him.
Jack gave him a few seconds to calm down then turned to him. “Stop it.” “Alex, don’t give me that look.” “Alex?!”
“Where do I turn?” – Drew asked, as he reached a small dusty road on his right side.
“Sorry. Not this one, the next one.” – Jack pointed out.
As the car turned again on the familiar road, Alexis grabbed her boyfriend’s hand in anticipation.

*

“We’re sorry,” she mumbled from her place, praying to all Gods that this might help in any way.
Drew didn’t comment.
“Dad? I’m sorry.”
Drew parked the car, ignoring her. “Out. Both of you.” – he said instead. “Alex”, he caught her wrist before she could get out, “I am warning you now: I don’t want to hear any bullshit or lies anymore tonight. And certainly no tantrums. If you know what’s good for you.” She was angry because her apologies had fallen on deaf ears, so she fought to free her hand. “Whatever,” she said, running for the house to catch up with Alex. Somehow she felt safer in his presence.

~End of Part 4~

Story: Alex and Alexis: Smart Schemes p.2&3

2008-01-13T23:38:00.000+02:00

Hello folks!

Juju has just posted the second part of the story on her blog. :) It's called "Friday Morning on the Road".

So I invite you to take a walk over there if you want to know what happens next. ;)

***

14.01.2008, Mo.

Juju has just posted the third part of the story ("The One with the Call" and "The One with Having Fun"). Enjoy! :)

Story: Alex and Alexis: Smart Schemes p.1

2008-01-13T02:36:00.000+02:00

Heya hey hey... We are back - that is, Juju and I.

The story is almost done, but we decided to share with you, chapter by chapter, what we've got so far. I start, then Juju will post the next part.

As you know, this story features two teenagers Alexis (from her series) and Alex (my series).

So... all disclaimers apply...

SMART SCHEMES

(MM/mf)

Copyright: Jujubees and KayleyBlue, 2008

The One with the Paper

The boy frowned, took one last fast puff from his cigarette and put it out by squeezing it against the wall.

“Listen to me,” he said, “there is no way you can get caught. No one has ever checked on sick students. The teachers are too stupid to think of that. It’s a safe bet. So… you want it or not?” He extended the paper to her. The girl took it from him, inspected it for a few seconds.

“You are absolutely sure?”
“Alex, I’ve used it myself, for fuck’s sake! And when I did I didn’t get caught. Josh used it. I can give you countless names if you want.”
“So how come it is still working?”
“Because not everyone knows about it and because you have to play safe. You don’t use it unless you really need to and you don’t overdo it. I can write it for you, just come up with a good disease to keep you away from school safely for a week.”
“I thought that was your job,” she said.

He sighed, considered, brushed his hair with his fingers.
“I’ll do it for you. But you promised to come with me on Friday! I worked it out quite nicely: my Dad’s away till evening, and on Friday he doesn’t drive to work because of the traffic. So we’ll have the car to ourselves. Two hours going, two coming back, we’ll be home by seven-eight in the evening. On the other hand, you will have to lie to your Dad about school. Can you do that?” It was a challenge. Her adrenaline was rushing.

“Are you kidding me? You were still a toddler when I learnt how to do it.” Her eyes flashed.

“Right. Just don’t get me in trouble.”

Ok. That was it. “You think you are smarter just because you are a proud specimen with balls? You don’t know shit about me, trust me!”

“Well,” he said trying to make a slow move on her, “why don’t you share then?”

“Hey, watch yourself! I’ve eaten bigger guys than you.” She grinned. “But hey, maybe if you fill in this one for me” – she said, passing him back the paper – “you might stand a chance… a small one, however.” She was definitely having the time of her life playing this game.

And his eyes twinkled. He loved a good chase. Especially a rare one, like Alex.

“Alrighty then… Give me the pen.”

The One with the Diseases

When Jack came down in the morning to grab his coffee before work, he discovered his late-rising son, Alex, busily reading one of his medical encyclopedias and furiously jotting down something.

“Wow. That’s a first,” Jack patted his son on the back, as he passed by to the kitchen.
“Yeah…”
“What’s it for?”
“School… kind of…”
“I see. You can ask me, you know…”
“Yeah…” Alex jotted down two more things then closed the book. “It’s ok, I guess.” He stood up from the coffee table and gathered the heavy books on top of each other, at the end of the table.

“So what did you need?” – Jack asked.
Alex innocently poured himself some juice. No need to worry.
“Nothing. Just some diseases. We have been talking about them in school. I wanted to see if they were contagious or not.”

He couldn’t find what he had been looking for but asking his Dad was suicide. Actually…
“Meningitis is infectious, right?”
“Very. And the patient would need a long time to make a full recovery.”
“Ok…” Alex mused. “How about” – he checked his list – “typhoid fever?”
Jack started laughing.
“Thought so,” Alex mumbled. “Don’t you know something less contagious or not contagious at all and which won’t make you spend weeks in hospital?”

Jack sipped his coffee, eying his son.
“That’s an odd question, Alex…”
“Don’t answer then. I can keep reading, you know…”
“Why exactly are you asking me this, anyway? And forgive me for being suspicious.”

Alex picked up the encyclopedia and threw it in his school bag.
“I made a bet with my friends. I don’t wanna lose it.”
“What’s the bet about?”
“I’ll tell you when I get back from school, if I win.” He said it perfectly relaxed, without even blinking, looking into his Dad’s eyes.

“I guess you don’t plan on skipping school, right?”
“No. Don’t worry about that.” Now, that lie made him feel disgusted with himself. “It’s just a stupid bet. Ten bucks. But it’s my honor, really… It should be a painful disease but not gross.”
Jack thought for a few minutes, his eyes twinkling in the same way in which Alex’s eyes were when he was playful.

“Dunno. Try Cholecystitis.”
“Co… what?”
“C-h-o-l-e-… Are you writing it down or not?”
Alex grabbed the pen and his list:
“Ok.”
Jack spelled it twice then gave up.
“Just look it up in that book you took.”

“Ok. And… what’s the treatment?”
Jack paused. His eyebrows wrinkled in an unpleasant way.
“Alex, do you need to tell me something?”
“No. Dad, honestly, it’s just for that bet!”
“If it’s for something else you are in deep trouble, mister.”
“It is not.”
“Antibiotics, pain medicine, a low-fat diet, and if it’s very serious – surgery. Good enough?”
“Perfect,” Alex grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

Fifteen minutes later, encyclopedia on his knees, he was sitting on the entrance stairs of his high school, busily engaged in a conversation on his mobile phone.

“….t-i-t-i-s… You got it?”
“Yeah,” the girl responded. “And what the fuck is it?”
“My Dad said…”
“Your Dad? You actually asked your Dad about it?”
“More or less, yeah…”
His girlfriend, Alexis, started laughing at the other end of the phone. “I underestimated you, Alex Pierce. So… what the heck is it?”
“It’s an inflammation of the gallbladder that causes abdominal pain. You puke, have fever, severe pain, and so on. You can take the paper with you in school today. It’s Thursday. So start acting sick. Try to make yourself feel sick. During your second class pretend you need to go vomit so get out of class. Then look for your head teacher and tell her about your medical note and that you had today off also, from the doctor, but that you wanted to come to school anyway, but that tomorrow you have appointment at the doctor and so on. Most likely she will suggest you go home. Go, but act very sick. And tell her you will bring the medical release on Tuesday or will send it to her through someone.”

“And it will work, you say?”
“I’m a genius, girl, of course it will! Now get your ass in school and don’t be late. And don’t forget: act sick even around your friends. They cannot know.”
“Done.”
The smile on the boy’s face grew. He hung up.

“Fuck, I am good!”

* End of Part 1*

*Part 2 - Jujubees' Journal*

First Chapter Tonight...

2008-01-12T17:07:00.000+02:00

We might give you that, guys...

I haven't talked to Juju yet, but we might be able to give you the first chapter tonight. :)

Writing My Ass Off

2008-01-12T00:36:00.000+02:00

This is why I am not posting anything. I worked every night. I even worked on it from work today. Juju, inspite of being sick, is also writing.

We're proud to announce that we have reached past the middle of the story, and most probably we will post the first parts starting this weekend. At the moment we have about 16 pages of Times New Roman, 12 pt. and 1.5 lines spaced. Quite good I would say.

May I remind you that it's an MM/mf(teenagers) story and I don't think there are many others online. And certainly there are no others as good as this one would be. ;) hehehe

Anyway, we are very excited. I can't seem to stop writing. Which works to Juju's disadvantage, since, as I have already mentioned, she was sick. But she's catching up like a maniac right now. And I don't mind one bit, because putting our bits and pieces together is also a lot of fun.

So... stay tuned. :)

Peace! :) And pray that Juju gets well soon. :)

Still Writing

2008-01-08T21:55:00.000+02:00

Heya folks...

Not much going on here except for my writing, like I have promissed. I don't have the energy to write more for the blog - I'm saving it for the story - so... that's it.

Oh, I've added a new poll to the blog: "How much spanking fiction do you read"? You can find it on the right sidebar.

Preparing for a New Story

2008-01-07T21:05:00.001+02:00

Hello folks and nice to see you in my land again... I'm the queen of impossible brats. :)

Anyway, I just wanted to announce that Juju and I are planning a joint-venture - a story featuring our characters - Alex and Alex. Yeah, it will be fun trying to understand who is who. ;)

Anyway, if you want to catch up with what's been going on in their worlds, try Juju's "Alexis" and my Alex stories (on the right side of the page).

Catch up with you later. Gotta start writing. :)

Puzzling

2008-01-06T14:59:00.000+02:00

I have to share this with you... There is this guy who has a mild public obsession with spanking. I mean, a butt is there to be swatted, you know? So once I mentioned to him spanking and the reaction was 'oh, ok'. The next day he tells me, while going out to eat: "We need to talk." Me, innocently: "About?" "You know, the thing you told me about yesterday." "Ok," I said, "whenever you want."

Then there was nothing else said. But the next days the chat between us was... awkward. As if... I can't explain how, but it was awkward. Just chatting about work and various things but the discussion about spanking was like hanging somewhere in the air, you know? He avoided the discussion, but he did not avoid splapping some asses soundly - he was doing it before also, only that now they were like 'emphasized', you know? His attitude changed mildly and so did mine (I became protective, displayed my 'kool' look (which is Top'ish not bottom'ish). You know, in our own spanko world we feel the 'messages' when they are sent, and even without discussion, it was as if he sent the signal - 'I am into spanking'. But... that was it. Sooner or later, the discussion will come out again. I know it will. But I am curious what the heck goes through his head. Do you know how frustrating this is? I don't care about him in any way - except as a friend and colleague - but curiosity is killing me. What is he into?

Well, as a spanko, I should think he is into some very mild - maybe - spanking reality. I don't think he investigated it further. He is the Top with no chance of bottoming. But where is the limit for him and how did it happen? Fuck, this really kills me. I *need* to know! A potential spanko needs to be investigated and recruited.

About Spanking Moods Again and the Origins of Spanking

2008-01-06T13:01:00.001+02:00

I suppose it's a sort of question to everyone interested...

How were your before you found the spanking community? What was your approach to spanking? How much have you changed - or your interests have changed - since then? Have you evolved in any way? Don't you feel that spanking became a stronger obsession than before?

Eric's previous comment triggered this question. Because I certainly remember that before I knew spanking was sexual for me (about 17 I guess hehe and right at the moment that I started reading spanking stories) I had moods: I wouldn't think or care about spanking for months, so much so that soetimes I thought I was 'cured'. Then for a few weeks I was obsessed with it - sometimes I induced my obsession, trying to get over the stress in my real life - and then I was ok again.

NOW, however, I am into spanking more often than I am not. And the obsession grows stronger - the more I read, the deeper I sink. I feel almost like a psycho at times, looking for ways to chop the next victim. Honestly. I am reading stories and blogs sometimes - or writing - like there is no tomorrow.

And speaking of obsessions and mental diseases - I do not recall in which Freud's book this was written - but I certainly remember reading it in my teenage years - 15-17 was the age when I read everything Freud wrote and that made me a bit cuckoo in the head. hehe Back then I wasn't aware that his theories are a bit 'old-fashioned' and most of them are not even accepted anymore. So when I read his work on SM in which he claims that all of us with this spanking interest will end up going very crazy (not using medical terms because I don't remember them anymore to describe exactly how he put it) I freaked out quite badly. First. Then I stopped caring. Out of defiance, really, not because I knew better.

Anyway, I found this very interesting article. I am still extremely interested in the 'why me' and 'how'. Maybe it is just a very dark part of me that I cannot fully understand - and I am the kind who cares about what I feel and especially "why" I feelt that way. So... reading material for you, folks:

http://culturesocietypraxis.org/index.php/csp/article/viewFile/100/66

Spanking spanking...

2008-01-04T22:08:00.000+02:00

and spanking... dreaming of spanking... I am so focused on it right now that I could type a whole post only by repeating the word 'spanking'...

Anyway, except for a few occasional swats I didn't get much lately. I believe it is coming though - it should be. Spanking... I'll set my mind to dream of a good spanking tonight!

Yeah... and a Happy New Year

2007-12-31T21:25:00.000+02:00

Just put a gun to my head and shoot me. No, it's not that bad - just bad. Maybe I dream too much hoping for things to be nice... N/m.

I locked myself twice in the bathroom already and the last time I scratched my forearm with the scissors. I do it only when my brain is exploding. This time it was. It's too much preasure and too much unhappiness in this world. And I will be alive who knows how much more to witness all the shit happening in this world. I grew tired of seeing animals without shelter or food, people and children starving... people do not care. I feel guilty spending money because others do not have. And I hate alcohol and drunk people. Ok, I am ok if someone drinks but if that drinking happens once and I don't get to witness it often. Do you know how ti feels to feel trapped into this fucking world - no way out? I mean what is the way out? There isn't one, you see, because if you die more people who do not care are left into the world. That's not a risk I want to take.

No, I am not drunk. I haven't drunk anything yet, mind me. I am just very sober and very tired of many things. I can't even write more folks because people are passing by and shit...

Anyway, cutting yourself to clear your mind is a solution. Sometimes. A bad choice, but a solution.

Merry Xmas Y'All! :)

2007-12-23T23:40:00.000+02:00

This might be my last post for the next three days. I am not sure, of course, but since Christmas is coming and my parents as well, I might not be able to post too soon. Sooo... Merry Christmas you all and see you after the holidays. :)

I also want to apologize because those who have subscribed might get some crazy update email from my site, but I will add a few Xmas decorations on my page today. So... sorry about the spam email. :)

All the Xmas clip art belongs to Free
Clipart or Photos: www.ace-clipart.com.

Back to Getting Spanked

2007-12-22T18:51:00.000+02:00

I didn't push it. Not much, anyway. I guess it happened because of Jack's mood. Honestly, I don't even remember what started it... Actually, I do. I bit him a little and when he gave me the chance not to bite anymore, I bit again. Oh, well... I couldn't resist, really.

I kind of remember some lecturing about staying up late and reading and watching too much spanko stuff, but I am not sure about what he was saying. The pain was a little too much so I was focused on not kicking. I had flashbacks of spanking vids and I wondered how the heck were some guys taking it so bravely. Anyway, the spanking went on for a while because I kept calling him names - I didn't want to but they kept coming out. I was supressing the urge by the time I got to the middle of the word.

Anyway, from intense pain I went to a hot bottom and the slaps stopped hurting. So the fact that I stopped wriggling gave him the idea that he should slap on the curve under my butt and my upper legs and then he decided that slapping towards the thighs would also be a good idea. It was, because I had stopped breathing already.

I have some sore spots still - that is about 2 hours later. But my energy is high again. So I wonder what the heck can calm me down? Not much, I guess. If I were Jack, I would make use of my new belt also... But I am not. *evil grin*

Odiogo.com - Listening to Posts

2007-12-22T18:07:00.000+02:00

Thanks Will! :) I installed and it works quite right... The only "down" side is that... well, it's a male voice which is quite weird. hehe I mean even this post will be read by a male voice and some posts might sound even funny like this. But it's okay, I guess. It's useful sometimes.

Another down side is that the stories, when read by this robot, are not read as I meant them to be read. So unless you are desperate or busy reading other stuff, skip the button. :)

Anyway, Will, thaks again, mate! :)

Over Being Drunk

2007-12-22T11:57:00.001+02:00

Yeah, I got over it. Like I said, yesterday I felt like shit, really... Today I slept untill 11,30am. Jack was a little pissed off at me for staying up very late again and smoking too much. I woke up with an incredible cough.

SInce Christmas is falling on Tuesday and I didn't take Monday off, I cannot go visit my parents. The trip takes about 5 hours on a good day, so with the traffic and stuff it would take about 6. My parents will come visit. Oh well...

I should do some shopping - I didn't buy ANYTHING yet because I didn't have time. It sucks. I mean normally, by this time of the year, I would have had all the presents. I haven't even bought food yet. It's not good... And it's extremely cold outside.

Cheers! Hope your shopping was better than mine...

drunk

2007-12-21T01:51:00.000+02:00

i am so druk my dearest thgat i am not goig to search for the keys. be warned. i am on automatuc pilot deleting now and then what i think i miht have tyes wrong. fuck. honeztky i cnnot fel the keys anyore. i had to go out toight and i did and i pushed yswkf to a certain limit... fuck... io have to look at the keys while i am typing... shit...
i gfoitta eat smth cuz i hate puking,.....
\
ok. gpot some cheese. it is fucking 2am, i am drunk beyond wordss and i dont want to go to work tomorrow... all the way home i have been writing posts in my head obviosul i am not coherent enough to m type them. i am typing this now just so that i can see tomorrowq in which state i was in today... fuck ..
i wanna skeep.. and BREATHE.. i am reaaaaaally hungrty... 5 beers
that ids all i had\u dare nake a nasty comment on this after the trouble ui webnt through wqhile typing it and u r toast!~ hear me? toast!!!!
FUCK... I DONT ABNNA PUKE BT... I WISGH I COULDF,...STUPID Caps on on.. IT IS.. 5.. NO... 1 58 AM
I NEED TO WAKWE UP AT ... UM....

???
8? HAHAHAHA
YWEAN
FUCK
GUYS IM HUNGRY
EATYING
CHEESE W BREAD
IM JHUNGRY
ha
this will b fun in the morning...
spanking? yeaaahhh surreee... i gotta go to bed guys if i clode my eyes... how the fguick i coulndt control it this tym...

peace!~

Seriously Now...

2007-12-19T21:47:00.000+02:00

The thought was triggered about Juju's post. It's an old one, but it keeps coming back...

What on earth would you do if you had a kid interested in spanking? Honestly guys. I know it's a tough issue you don't wanna think about. But really... how would you feel? Would you freak out? Would you be scared? Would you share?

I'm going to use my example. I was always into spanking and my parents - and my aunt and gramma - realized it by the time I was 15. Even earlier I would dare say. I am sure they didn't know what to make of it - they probably thought it was something related to puberty and shit, you know? They never mentioned it. But the word 'spanking' coming out of their mouth was always spoken on a funny tone. I can't explain what 'funny tone' means, but trust me, it was funny. My relationship with my parents was a bit cold. I told my Mom that I love her once in my life. She is not a cold person but... I don't know... there is something odd in between us. She loves me and she sacrifices everything for me, even now, but there is something odd somewhere... I am somewhat positive that my Mom has, in her blood, a bit of the spanking virus. Not much, but just a bit - enough to make the word sound 'funny' when spoken.

I am into spanking 100%, so much so that for me spanking is much better than sex. Now if my kid would show signs of interests into spanking by the age of 14-15, I would definitely come forward. I don't want him/her to go through what I went through, not knowing what the fuck was going on; thinking he/she had a problem, etc.

Now if I would want that to happen to him or her? It sounds extremely degenerated and selfish maybe, but I wouldn't mind. And that is because I don't think there is anything wrong with liking spankings. Furthermore, I believe that people with such a kink have a much better sex life than others. Finding the significant other might be tough, but it might be worth the waiting. That's my view and you don't need to agree with me. :)

Audio? and Some Other Nonsense...

2007-12-18T23:49:00.000+02:00

Ok... You guys remember Castle Handyman's website? He had stories and then he had the audio versions of them. I LOVED that.

Unfortunately for me I am not a native English speaker and I live in a studio with my husband, so recording myself reading the story would be almost impossible...

Anybody out there interested in reading one and maybe editting some shit to make sure it's gramatically correct? This is just a call and I pretty much know I won't get a 'yes' from anybody, but we are allowed to try, aren't we? *dry laugh*

Anyway... on the line... I might have a fellow spanko working in the same company with me. I'll let ya guys know the story soon enough. This would be the funniest crap ever! *chuckling*

Poll: What's Your Favorite Room?

2007-12-17T20:17:00.000+02:00

I made a poll out of this question just out of curiosity. If you have any reasons why you have picked an answer, feel free to share. :)

My fav is the bathroom. Whenever I want to be alone with my thoughts, I move to the bathroom. I like closed places, with no windows (if possible), isolated from all the noise outside or inside... And the bathroom is like a sanctuary to me.

I cried there, I dreamed, I cut myself when I was younger, I talk on the phone for hours, I smoked, I drank and chatted at parties, I hid in there when I was in trouble... It's such a quiet and peaceful place. I even studied in the bathroom, when I was cutting classes and was preparing for exams 3 days ahead, studying my ass off from morning till morning. I wrote in the bathroom, on my laptop... I run the water - because I love the sound of running water, and I sit there with my cats around me. I don't need the bathroom to be a luxurious place. I just want something cozy.

I love bathrooms... :)

Your turn.

Musing on Previous Spankings

2007-12-16T20:23:00.000+02:00

I'm talking about how I react to spankings...

It usually depends on the frame of mind in which I am, really. It also depends if I feel bratty or not. Probably, if I were to be punished, I would just keep as silent as I could. And if I feel bratty, I cry first, until I realize that pleading gets me nowhere. I don't cry necessary from pain: I cry when I realize there is no way out. That's my killer.

Many times I try to cover my butt, but since I prefer having my hands in front of me, I try not to give Jack a reason to hold them for me. Not having both fists tight into the blanket scared me. Actually, if I were to bend over and hold my legs - and I had to do it like two times a few years ago - I would feel pretty desperate.

I still don't believe it is me indeed taking the spankings. Like I told Jack - I think it is my alternate ego, that is why I beg from the start. If it were me indeed, I would shut my mouth and take it all as silently as I could. And then, either it is me or my alternate ego, I come to the point where it does hurt and I start squirming and yelping and 'owe'ing. And you know you got through me when, after this, total silence falls. That's when I start building it inside; that's when my brain catches up and says: "you are in big shit; it hurts like crazy and it's not going to stop." And realization dawns: "I really can't stop it, no matter what." And then silent tears start falling. I've been there like three or four times. And when I start crying I want it to go on, just to get rid of all the pressure inside.

I have in my mind two memorable spankings for me: one, when I really crossed the line and I did some pretty nasty stuff to myself and Jack. We were away - we were in a long distance relationship, more or less like the one with Mija and Pablo. I was in Univ. I was crazy. I was up all night, skipping classes all day. I had managed to get my best friend, Jules, into this shit also. I don't wanna go on with the shit I was up to, but it involved drugs once and a lot of beer and a lot of nights online on a spanking chat room. I don't know how I have always managed to get my exams with good grades (b oth me and Jules, actually) after not being in class for weeks and pretending we were working.

So anyway... jack was mad at me. Very mad. He told me I was in trouble but I did not believe him. I was somewhat scared. Because when Jack is mad and says something, you kind of know it is a promise. You wish for other things but that doesn't help. And I also always try to behave and calm him down, and show how sorry I am - because I really am, you know? It never helps. So that time I flew to see him for a few weeks and the moment I was in the cab with him, he started questioning me. They were small questions about my school, my exams, my phone bill. No questions about the damn spanking chat which meant that he was mad and he was holding it inside. He acted so much like a top that I had melted long before we got home. I was embarassed by his questions, in front of the cab guy. I was embarrased because he promised he would take care of everything once we got home. My knees were buckling, really...

And when we got home, I just know he took me to his room and said he would spank me. He said he wasn't kidding. He said that if spanking is what I wanted, then spanking I should get. He spanked me over his lap, his spanked with his belt, with a stupid jumping rope that I hid later on (hehe) and I did cry. I don't even remember if that was the time he thrashed me with the hairbrush or if that was another time. But I do recall a few sound spankings that I got in that room, over that bed.

Anyway, gotta go now... Gonna take a shower.

Cheers!

Question about Belts

2007-12-16T03:33:00.000+02:00

Ok, you guys... You should know the answer to this one:

A few days ago when I was running around for some shopping (needed a fancy belt for a costume party) I found a very very smooth flexible belt. I mean it is not the hard kind; it's the lighter swooshy kind. The moment I saw it I fell in love with it.

Do you think it hurts more than the normal Levis belt - You know, the ones for guys, with the big buckle?...

I just need some advise since it's about 80 bucks and I am low on money this month with all the presents and shit, and in the same time my mind got stuck to it. So I want a good investment...

help? anyone?

I Hate CCBill

2007-12-16T00:51:00.001+02:00

Yes, I know I said it before - about a year ago, but this time I want to underline it.

Do you know how bad it is to decide that you want something - and I mean over the past couple of weeks I've been checking spanking sites again and I wasn't too sure I wanted to subscribe to some of them (until today) - and not be able to get it? And it's not even up to me?...

Do I have to move to the States and make myself a card there in order to pay CCB???

Anyway... let's skip this state of mind, shall we? Before I say a few more things... If you haven't realized it yet - I'm in a sassy mood. REALLY sassy mood.

Been visiting for the past 5 or 6 hours SpankingCentral and I liked what I saw. I started being interested somewhere starting Volume 8 or 9 I think. And by the time I reached 15 I was hooked. I like some of the guys. Oh, yeah, forgot to mention, it's an M/m spanking place. Disappointed some of you? Well, shit happens. Or maybe you wonder when will I snap out of my M/m mood, eh? Good questions. But probably never, since it's been with me since I was 5, you know?

Anyway, I think I "finally" figured out (I figure out something new every day so get used to it!) why M/m is more fun to watch than M/f. I also told you that I've been watching spanking clips with girls yesterday (actually today) until 5am. None really satisfied me. They lack something. You see, a guy takes it like a guy and a girl takes it like a girl. It's that simple. So you mostly cannot dish to a girl what you dish to a guy.

And there are two kinds of guys - the ones who take it silently and you just see them crying - which is a lot more fun since you know when the pain really gets to them; and the ones who are 'gone' from the beginning.

Anyway, this guy on CentralSpanking is hot: Seth. What's hot about him? The way he acts. The way he smirks. And the way his smirk is gone when he gets whacked. *evil grin*

Ok, people, talk to you later... it's 1am, again - this morning's spanking didn't help much it seems hehe - and I wanna wander a bit online. :)

*coughing her lungs out* :( I am coughing - shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! I forgot my antibiotics!! ok done took them. So... I am coughing my lungs out and I am getting black spots in front of my eyes from so much coughing. :( Maybe I should stop smoking when I am sick, right?... Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I should just wait for this virus to move away and hang on in here...

Rambling again - you see, last time I tried to quit (November last year, I think), Jack was away, and I was so down... I mean I always thought that quitting qould be like snapping your fingers. I mean, I am strong enough to control tantrums, right? Wrong. I remember I started crying back then for no reason. I was so desperate and I had no reason to be. I was shouting on the phone at everyone who would call... so this is why I cannot quit now. I don't have the right frame of mind.

Peace!

Spanked in the Morning

2007-12-15T17:46:00.000+02:00

Totally my fault, and I admit it.

You see, I am sick (having two things running at once), on antibiotics, with runny eyes and nose, a horrible cough and so on, but I managed - don't ask me know - to stay up, as tired as I was, until 5am. And until my cough allowed me to fall asleep it had already become 6. No kidding.

This morning I woke up around 9 first and asked Jack what time it was. Then fell asleep again. Then I woke up one more time and asked again what time it was - it had become 11. He said something about me going to bed at 5am.

"How do you know that," I asked.
"You can't hide things from your... Master."

Tingle tingle in my tummy. On the spot. I am too tired to remember how things went on, but soon enough I was on his lap getting my ass spanked red for being up so late. Does being sick make your butt more resistant? I swear, this morning I could have taken anything and everything. I didn't protest, didn't put my hand back to cover my butt, I didn't clench, I didn't scream. I cried a bit at the end, when it had started hurting, but there was no big fuss.

My question is: what's gotten into Jack to spank me? Is it because I am downloading at the moment a few gigabytes of spanking movies? Is it because he watched something? Was it just to get me horny? I have a feeling he peeked a little at my movies... hehe

Anyway, my butt is fine now and my attitude has improved. :)
I still want the belt though - badly.

Spankings

2007-12-09T23:05:00.000+02:00

I'm coming back from JuJu's blog. I have to write. She started me. :)

I said many times that I was not spanked as a child. Partly true.

Until 7 my grandparents raised me at their own house, in the country. It was great. I was spoilt but my Grandma used to tell me that even though I was very naughty and full of energy, and even though I climbed all the trees and the fences that could be climbed, she never feared that I could fall or break my kneck. Because I wasn't wreckless. And I know that. I know that I estimated always my weight and the branch's resistance before I stepped on it. I made bows and arrows for myself and stole knives from the kitchen, yet I never cut myself. So that's what my Grandma meant. However, I was guilty because I had a very bad mouth. A big mouth. I remember how many times my Grandma ran after me with a rod. I remeber she slapped my legs now and then with various things. I was very proud. She used this tactic: I kick you out of the house and go do what you want and you are not coming in until you apologize. And I wasn't apologizing, but, instead, I was getting my dog and walking away. Once I made room for myself to sleep in the doghouse. I would have rather had that than apologize and crash my ego.

My grandfather never slapped me though. He was threatening me when we were playing tricks on him with my friends, but he never lay a finger on me. Once though, they called me for lunch (I hated food!) and I refused to come. They didn't know where I was. They called and called but I had hidden in the corn field. They both chased me - imagine two old people chasing a brat in a corn field - and caught me in the end. I don't know what the discussion was about but I know my Grandpa was very mad. He actually took off his belt to spank me. My Grandma stopped him though. However, I remeber I did not feel humiliated by that - in comparison to a situation which I am about to write in a bit. I was scared, but not humiliated. He could have spanked me and I woould have not felt anger towards him.

My parents used to visit every weekend and I know we all had a wonderful time. Then, by the time I was seven and went to school and to live with my parents, my fathr had started drinking. He was drinking a little at the beginning, but by the time I was 12 he had become a heavy drinker. The fights between him and my Mom happened every night. I had exams the next day or school contests and I was unable to sleep until 1-2 at night. At 12 I broke my neck and once he came home drunk, and even though I was in a cascet from head to waist, he pushed me and I fell. I don't remember it exactly but my Mom reminds him that sometimes, when he drinks. Sometimes he was aggressive - breaking plates in the kitchen. Sometimes he was talking for hours sitting on my bed, as I couldn't sleep. He never hit me though. And when he was sober, he was the most incredible guy in the world. Hard to believe, eh?

Anyway, when I was about 8 or 9, I remember I had a stupid homework that I refused to do. I had been out for very long, refused to come home in time for homeworks, and now I was very tired and angry. My Grandma was there. My Mom was also there. He wanted to spank me. He actually got the belt and asked me to drop my pants and lie on the bed. I refused. I cried my heart out. It was so so humiliating. Now compare this to the scene with my grandfather. Anyway, my Grandma and my Mom got me out of it in time. I know this is not a traumatizing experience - but it certainly was for me. It is the worst memory I have, I think.

And speaking of spankings that do not make me angry - because they involve my Grandma who brought me up - I remember two specific times when I really got it. Once, when I was about 6 or 7, we were at my cousin's house. He was getting it regularly. It was no big deal to him. But it was a big deal to me. I know I insulted my Grandma, his Grandma, and I refused to eat my food. They chased me through the whole house, caught me, placed me on their laps, pulled down my underwear and slapped my butt good. It is funny, you know, two women running after me like mad. And it took two of them to hold me down and spank my butt. hehe Yes, my cousin witnessed it and even bragged about it to my aunt (which is his aunt, also). He was saying it so matter-of-factly, you know...

Second time - we had a dinner with my Grandma's brother in our house. I was about 5-6? My aunt and my uncle were there. I think my parents were also there but I am not sure. It was, I think, again related to eating (since I was refusing any and every food given to me) and most probably some back talking. My Grandma got mad, grabbed me, pulled down my underwear and spanked me right there, in front of them. No kicking back helped. Have I mentioned that I used to kick them reaaally bad? Hitting with legs and crap? hehe Anyway... then I sat my butt down on the carpet. And my Grandma's brother asked (in a context which I don't remember): "Is she punished to sit like that?" And my Grandma said: "If she were she wouldn't be sitting there."

Now, are these experiences enough to turn someone into a spanko? I have no clue...

Christmas Meme

2007-12-09T22:37:00.000+02:00

Ok, I 'borrowed' this from "Spanky Loves Kalisto" (and you should check the blog because it's very peaceful (if spankings can be peaceful hehe) and sweet). :)

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper.

2. Real tree or artificial? I love real trees. Had them through all my childhood and my parents and my aunt still get the real trees... and I would, really, (at least for the wonderful scent), but in my house I use artificial. I started caring about nature a lot more over the past 5-6 years so... Besides, I can always use a few branches to spice up the atmosphere... :)

3. When do you put up the tree? Except for one or two times - always on the Christmas Eve.

4. When do you take the tree down? Well, theoretically it should be taken down in January, somewhere around the 8th I think?... But I keep it sometimes till the beginning of February. Taken it down is not as much fun as putting it up. hehe

5. Do you like eggnog? Not really, no...

6. Favorite gift received as a child? I don't have a favorite... But I loved them all - especially the cars and the legos...

7. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes

8. Hardest person to buy for? My dad.

9. Easiest person to buy for? Jack

10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Don't remember. I am quite specific on what people shouldn't buy me.

11. Mail or email Christmas cards? Abroad and in the same city - email; locally but in a different city - mail.

12. Favorite Christmas movie? The Polar Express... Seen it like 5 times, at least... hehe And I love Tom and Jerry Xmas cartoons... :) It reminds me of my childhood.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Sometimes in late November, but most shopping is done in December.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? No

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cake, chocolate, cookies... :D

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Colored. I used to have the ones that looks like lampions and so on... they were so pretty. The new ones are also pretty...

17. Favorite Christmas song? Winter Wonderland and that one with the 1st day of Christmas...

18. Travel for Christmas or stay home? HOME. I love holidays with my family, even though they are not always the way I want them to be...

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? No. Sorry, the American culture is not that strong yet. :)

20. Angel on the treetop or a star? Star.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas Eve. I was coming back from carolling and we were opening presents... it was sooo kool! :) And then we were all having dinner and playing games... :)

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? I can't seem to find anything it shops anymore!! Get out of there people, I also want to shop!!! DUH!

23. What I love most about Christmas: the tree, the caroling, the gifts, the red and green patterns, the snow (hopefully we will have some this year)...

Spanking Story: See if I Care (M/F)

2007-11-20T00:24:00.000+02:00

Yeah... I wish...
-----------------------------

See if I Care

“Honey, turn the light off,” he said, checking his watch. “I’m trying to sleep. It’s almost twelve”.

She went on pounding at the keyboard, deaf at his request. Something had clicked wrong in her head while she was reading the last story. Her rebellious self unfolded, triggered by her mind’s answer to the main character’s actions. She didn’t understand it, but she embraced the feeling.

“Please turn off the light,” Mike said again. He didn’t raise his voice, but even if the tone was matter-of-factly she read the annoyance and the frustration lying underneath.

“No.” – she said simply.

“Do you need it?”

“No.” – she said again.

“Then please turn it off.”

“No.”

She had a vague feeling that she was provoking him on purpose; she was pushing it, very aware of the discomfort she was causing him. And she also was aware that this scene would not have taken place before she had asked for rules to be established in the house. He did not refuse to take part in the project, but she hadn’t been spanked either. She felt guilty for some of her actions. And her guilt raised the frustration in her, which lead to deliberate disobedience.

Mike stirred in bed for a few minutes, as if trying to consider his next move. She knew he was. He was most probably debating on what to do next. And she knew his thoughts, the moment she saw him standing up: he wanted to end the argument; he didn’t want to confront her. He switched the light off. Without even looking up, Jas continued to type madly at her computer.

As he lay in bed again, she went for the switch and the light was on once more. Her statement read “you can’t ignore me forever”. She made it clear. Mike grumbled. A real grumble. An angry grumble which caused her to pray that he would finally do something; if not, this would become an argument, and they would be at each other’s throats till morning.

“Do you need the light on?” – He asked once more, popping his head out from under the blanket. She didn’t reply. She could bend the keys on the keyboard with the fury she was typing.

She heard him sigh and could almost hear the internal fight he was trying to control. Without a word, he stood up and went for her, yanked her up by the arm.

“Common,” he said.
This wasn’t right. A spanking should not happen because he was annoyed; a spanking should happen because she needed it and because he would understand that need. Because he loved her and he knew there was no way around it. It wasn’t the case now. It made her furious. She snapped her arm free.

“Let me be,” she said.

“I’m spanking you, even if I have to drag you and fight you,” he added, grabbing her arm again. “Up!”

Jas looked up at him, with all the defiance she could muster. And there was plenty of it in her eyes, in her face. She stood up. “I’m not running. You don’t need to grab me like that.”

For a second he seemed to consider, trying to understand what she was at. Was she playing some kind of game again? He grabbed his jeans from the chair and slid the belt out of the loops. He looked at her expectedly.

“Yeah, spank me,” she said. “See if I care. See if I give a damn.” The rebel teenager buried deep inside was desperately pushing to come out. The association was perfect in her mind: teenager, used to get her ass tanned, but pretending not to care. She was so good at pretending she believed it herself.

Mike raised his eyebrows at her. She unzipped her pants, pulled them down. It was the first time he didn’t ask her to do it. She gave him a defiant look then pulled down her panties, to her knees, and, without a word, she bent over, hands on the bed.

“See if I care,” she repeated. It was more to her this time, probably because she started to grow aware of what she was doing.

Mike didn’t reply, but let her play her game. He doubled the belt over, moved to her side. She thought she was in control. Let’s see how you handle this, he mused. He grabbed her panties, yanked them down. Not because they weren’t where they should have been, but because – he bent over slowly, whispering in her year – “You get spanked here because I say so, not because you want to.” It was a strong kick at the first piece of the domino. He was going to break her from inside. She felt it. She felt that illusion of control slip through her fingers, but she fought the feeling back, like a kid trying to squeeze its fingers together hoping for the water not to drain down. She raised her eyes, fixed them stubbornly on the white wall in front.

Mike watched her reaction. He hadn’t been determined to break her before, but now he was. Without further ado, he moved to her left side and raised the belt. He raised it as high as he dared to. It was a challenge and he would not be beaten at it. The belt came down hard. She winced only. The belt snapped again against her bottom, but she kept looking forward, trying to detach herself from the pain.

It would take some work to get to her, but he didn’t mind. He went on spanking her, not having time to watch the welts build on her white skin. He wished he could see her face. But he watched her knuckles instead, turning white with the strength she was putting into grabbing the blanket tight into her fists. He also heard a muffled sob, which she couldn’t control anymore. The belt fell, this time, on the curve under her butt. She yelped; fists tightened even more on the blanket; her bottom went forth and it took her more than usual to bring it back into position.

He could be mean, if that’s how she wanted to play. He cracked the belt again, on the same spot. Jasmine yelped. He didn’t wait for her ass to come baak; he gave one more lick on the same spot again. And then again, and again. He watched her small body starting to collapse slowly in front of him, as she began to refuse to present her bottom again for punishment.

He bent over her small body again, whispering in her ear: “Do you give a damn now? Hm?” She didn’t answer, but tears dripped from her nose to the blanket. He played the bastard card in response. “Are you crying? See if I care.” She sobbed out loud. “Bring your ass back. We are not finished when you want to; we are finished when I say so.”

She complied, but slowly, as if trying to find her way out of it in the meantime. Again he didn’t wait for her to finish her thoughts – the belt landed hard on her upper thighs. Her arms shook and she let her torso rest on her elbows. Her forehead touched the pillow in front of her.

Mike kept her on ‘ignore’, but his eyes traveled many times from her behind to her position. He could tell what was going through her mind. Now he could read her like a book.

“Please.” – She whispered, between sobs.
“Come again?”
She didn’t repeat it. He didn’t wait for a reply. He went on spanking. The welts built to an angry red.

“Enough,” she said. Her hand flew back. He had reached her. Finally. Past the arrogance, the rebel wall, straight into her mind.
“Take your hand away.”
She did. He went on. She cried, quite loudly. She started twisting, hoping he would miss the spots that hurt so badly. He didn’t.
“Please… Enough…”
He stopped for a moment, giving her false hopes. Mike raised her wet chin, forced her to look up, into his eyes. “This is punishment, just like you wrote in your letter. This is not playing. This is you and me, not me and your alternate ego. And I decide when you had enough. Is that clear?”
She nodded.
“Good,” he added. “Now bring your bottom up again, please. *I* am not finished with you. I know you wanted to make your point. Now I am making mine.”

She complied. The rebel teenager was gone. He whipped her ass even after it had collapsed on the bed. The strokes were not hard anymore, but they felt horrible to her. He stopped and put away the belt. She didn’t move but continued to sob into the pillow.

“Now turn off that light, please,” he said.

A few minutes later she cuddled next to him in bed, arms around his waist, head buried in his back. She could finally sleep.