Sunday, February 24, 2008

Another Entry...

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. :")

Thursday, February 07, 2008

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

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.
Dear Diary

Copyright: KayleyBlue, 2008

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

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

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...

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Story: Coming to Senses, part 2

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

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.

Monday, February 04, 2008

M/F Story on the Way

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)

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?”
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.
“No loose tooth, no nothing, right?”
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.”


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.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Yesterday's Story

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)

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

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.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Spanked for Being a Brat

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.