Yesterday I got a gift.  Via text message of all things.  Just three little words on a tiny screen and I was a teary eyed mush puddle.  ”Gift of submission …”

You see the friend/lover/playmate has been out of town all week visiting his family of origin, and since his folks only have (crappy) dial up service this has thrown a major wrench into our normal mode of communication, email.  So finally, in presumed desperation, he started sending me text messages.  Now, neither one of us is much of a texter but I am, quite frankly, hopeless on the telephone and desperate times call for desperate measures, so clumsy texts became the communication mode du jour.

The trouble started when I left him a “Miss you.  Hurry home please.” text to peruse over his morning coffee.

Him:  ”Poor, poor girl…”

Me:  ”Bastard!”

Him:  ”Save up that anger … for my bottom …”

Me:  ”I am so going to make you beg …”

Him:  ”Beautiful AND willful.  I haven’t a chance …”

Me:  ”True.  I advise surrender”

Him:  ”And you’re wise, too …”

There was a bit of a hiatus at this point and then

Me:  ”Found my bamboo garden stakes in the garage.  They leave nice stripes …”

Him:  ”please no vietnam war scenarios”

Me:  ”I promise not to draw blood but I do want to mark you, w/your consent …”

Him:  ”Yes’M”

Me:  ”I FELT that.  Thank you, my sweet”

Him:  ”Gift of submission …”

That’s when my vision went blurry and my panties got mysteriously wet and something fierce wrenched in my chest.  All over three little words.

Miss Hall had been teaching within my school for a couple of years and had a reputation for being one of the best and strictest in the school so when I found out that I was going to be in her class for history in my 4th year I knew that I would have to be really careful not to come to her attention as I have a really cheeky streak in me. Even though I was thinking of it in my first class with Miss Hall my innate temperament came to the fore when she asked me a question and I gave her a very sarcastic response. Momentarily anger flashed across Miss Hall’s face and I knew that I was in trouble.

‘You will return to this classroom at the end of the day Kenneth’ Miss Hall says calmly giving me a couple of periods to consider my fate.

‘Well I see the reports that you are a cheeky and impertinent young man are true Kenneth. I will not tolerate any pupil talking to me like that and I have no doubt that you have heard my reputation as the strictest teacher in the school. I am about to demonstrate that this reputation is justified and I hope that one application of the tawse will be sufficient to teach you not to push me but if it is not then it will be repeated until such time as you do learn the lesson. You will now assume the position and will receive three strokes on each palm’ Miss Hall says calmly as I am standing in front of her and it is her calmness that frightens me the most.

Miss Hall certainly wasn’t the first teacher to tawse me so I knew exactly the position that I had to take up and I didn’t want to give her any excuse to add to the six that I was already getting. I extended my arms straight out in front of me and rested my left hand on top of the right one watching while Miss Hall pulled the tawse from her desk drawer. It looked worryingly thick and barely bent when she held it out straight. It was a three-tailed tawse and these always seemed to be worse than two-tailed ones for some reason. Miss Hall walked round her desk and turned me round so that I was facing her and it was then that I realised she was almost as tall as me. I watched Miss Hall take the tawse up and over her shoulder before she brought it down sharply across my left hand. I hear the splat as the tawse contacts my hand and it tries to push my arms down but they are braced tightly enough that it doesn’t happen. For a fraction of a second I don’t feel a thing but then the pain hits me like a crashing wave. I grit my teeth and screw my eyes shut to try and stop Miss Hall from seeing the effect that it had had on me but she was experienced enough to know that it had gotten through to me.

I opened my eyes again just in time to see the tawse being rested over Miss Hall’s shoulder again and again it was brought down sharply onto my palm. This time there was not even a fraction of a seconds respite from the pain because it coursed straight through me from the moment the tawse landed. I reacted in exactly the same way to this stroke but after the third one to my left hand I gave a yelp because it was even harder and when I looked down at my hand I saw just how red it was.

‘Change hands Kenneth’ Miss Hall instructed and I did it. My left hand felt like it was three times its normal size as the left one sat on top of it and this meant that I could feel it throbbing as if it had its own heart beat. I look into Miss Hall’s face as she is about to deliver the first stroke to my right hand and there is a look of concentrated determination on her face. Her focus is on my palm until just after the stroke lands with a splat and then she looks up into my face seeing my reaction. As I open my eyes again I think that I can see a ghost of a smile on Miss Hall’s face and this remains as she completes the tawsing with another two devastating strokes. It was easily the hardest tawsing that I had received from any teacher and it made me truly fear a repeat dose because it would be more than three to each hand.

‘As I said Kenneth I hope this punishment will have been sufficiently severe that I don’t have to repeat it’ Miss Hall says as she is replacing the tawse on the desk.

‘I hope that you won’t have to repeat it Miss Hall’ I say sincerely for probably the first time in my life. Through the year Miss Hall did have to tawse me a couple of times but this was far less than in most of my other classes and she also proved herself to be a brilliant teacher so I respected and responded very well to her. I didn’t take history in my 5th year because I was intending to take it in my 6th and final year. During my 5th year corporal punishment was banned and this had a very negative effect on my behaviour because lines and detentions didn’t have anything like the same effect on me. Despite this decline in my behaviour I still did really well in my exams so had a free choice in the subjects that I took in my final year and history was one of these and Miss Hall made sure that she was teaching the class that I was in. I still had a deep level of respect for Miss Hall and she is still a very strict teacher but without the very real and direct threat of the tawse behind her I acted up a bit more. I was still better in Miss Hall’s class than I was in the others where the bad points in my character began to dominate my good points. Having received unconditional offers from my first and second choice universities had definitely not helped this because it meant I didn’t have to worry about my exam results. Early on in the year Miss Hall kept me behind at the end of the day to talk to me about my behaviour although in reality it was more a case of her talking at me.

‘You are one of the more intelligent boys in this school yet you seem intent on wasting your ability through laziness, complacency and an astonishing arrogance’ Miss Hall says as she is perched on the edge of her desk looking intently at me from a few feet away. I start to respond to this accusation.

‘You will not interrupt me Kenneth’ Miss Hall says and I put on a surly expression, ‘and you will not look at me like that either Kenneth’ she continues and the tone of her voice tells me that she means it.

‘Although you were a challenge to teach two years ago it was a very nice challenge but now you are just an ignorant little brat who thinks they are better than the school. You never prepare for lessons preferring to rely on your intelligence so that you can bluff your way through things and I know for a fact that you play truant regularly but because the school does not want to be seen as having a problem it will not take any action against you for this. One of the reasons why you used to be such a nice challenge to teach was because you are a wonderful debater but now instead of using these skills you are just plainly argumentative and you seem to pick arguments purely for fun’ I have not enjoyed hearing any of this because deep down I know that it is true which hurts but I start to open my mouth to defend myself since I don’t want to admit the failings. Miss Hall’s look cuts me dead in my tracks.

‘I have seen you out and about with your girlfriend and your older sister and with both of these people you are the perfect gentleman but here in school you are anything but the perfect gentleman. Here you are rude, insolent, cruel and sometimes wicked towards boys and girls and even towards the teachers where you are also utterly disobedient. This behaviour is utterly intolerable and there must be something more to it than simply the fact that teachers can no longer belt you so what do you have to say for yourself Kenneth?’ Miss Hall finally concludes the lecture. I sit silently for a minute or two taking in everything that Miss Hall has said and trying to devise an appropriate answer.

‘If my behaviour was that bad then surely the school would have done something about it’ I start unconvincingly.

‘You know as well as I do Kenneth that your behaviour is that bad and the only reason the school hasn’t done anything about it is because it is trying to save its reputation as the best school in the area so to suspend or expel a pupil takes something very major’ Miss Hall answers seeing through my attack, ‘so I suggest that you start again Kenneth and be honest this time’ she concludes sharply.

‘As you yourself said Miss Hall I am an intelligent boy, and thank you for the compliment, but this means that I find the work that is expected of me very easy and when things are too easy for me I get bored and when I’m bored I would tend to be very fractious so causing trouble is a way of relieving my boredom particularly because I know that the school isn’t going to suspend or throw me out. It is true to say that when teachers could belt me it was the best way of motivating me and keeping me out of trouble but even then as you may know you were the teacher who got the best out of me as I fully respected you and you challenged me in class whereas most other teachers let me get on with things. I am sorry for the trouble that I have caused and I honestly do want to improve but I’m not sure how it is going to happen’ I answer having realised that Miss Hall will see through any attempt to lie to her or even partially hide the truth.

‘Thank you Kenneth for answering me honestly and I suspected that your problems may stem from laziness but I can see that your explanation of boredom is more accurate. Surely however you want to get into university next year so will have to do well in the exams to get there?’ Miss Hall asks.

‘Yes I am going to university next year but my results were good enough last year that I have been given unconditional offers by my first and second choice universities so I don’t have any pressure from that side’ I answer and there is a look of surprise on Miss Hall’s face at this.

‘In that case Kenneth I am going to have to find another way in which to motivate you. I would like your permission to speak to your parents privately’ Miss Hall says.

‘I have no problem with you speaking to my parents privately Miss Hall however you would find it more useful to speak to my older sister and my girlfriend as they have a lot more influence over me than my parents’ I answer.

‘In that case I will speak to them instead so please give me their mobile numbers so that I can get in touch’ Miss Hall says and I hand over the numbers. Alison, my girlfriend, is a couple of years older than me and she had decided not to go off to university because a good job offer had come up in one of the local banks. Emma, my sister, is four years older than me and she is now training to be an accountant and neither of them tolerates any misbehaviour from me although it is only Emma that punishes me corporally if I misbehave. Alison simply has to use a tone of voice to indicate her displeasure and I modify my behaviour because I never want to upset her.

‘I want you to think very carefully about what I have said Kenneth and I will see you at the end of the week to discuss how I am going to bring about the improvement in your behaviour that you want to happen’ Miss Hall says before dismissing me and all the way home I am thinking about what has been said to me and going through my behaviour since last year picking out lots of examples of everything that Miss Hall has said. By the time I get home I am very angry with myself so it is almost a relief when Alison phones that evening and asks me to come round to see her.

‘Once you start wasting your talent like you are you will never get it back so your behaviour and attitude must improve from this moment forward’ Alison says as soon as I am in the flat taking me completely by surprise so Miss Hall has obviously talked to her already. Shortly afterwards there is a call on my mobile phone and I look at it to see that it’s Emma that is calling so I let it go to my voicemail knowing that I wasn’t going to like what Emma was saying. After this abrupt start to my evening with Alison she uses all of her charm and subtlety to probe my mind and I had soon admitted to her that everything Miss Hall had told her was true. I also told her that when Miss Hall had been lecturing me I had known that it was true but had not wanted to admit and Alison tells me that at least now that I’ve admitted there is a problem we can work on solving it.

‘I’ve seen you with Emma and like Miss Hall I’ve never seen you being anything other than a perfect gentleman with her, like you are with me, so what is it about her that inspires this in you which none of the teachers seems to be able to replicate?’ Alison asks.

‘I guess it is because I fear, respect and love Emma that I behave around her and if I don’t she has no hesitation in giving me a hard spanking to modify my behaviour’ I answer.

‘I want to know everything that happens when Emma punishes you and I also want to know what it is about me that inspires you to be a perfect gentleman?’ Alison continues.

‘With you Alison it is something psychological that inspires good behaviour on my part because I know from the tone of your voice if I have displeased you and this makes me feel absolutely terrible so I never want to do it and if I do then I will try to modify my behaviour so that it doesn’t happen again. As for what happens when I am with Emma then it is very simple. I am given one warning look if I do something to displease or disobey her and if this doesn’t change my behaviour then the next time she swats my bottom with her hand irrespective of where we are at that moment. This tells me that whenever we reach a private space I will be going over her lap for a hard, bare bottomed spanking. Should I be stupid enough to continue upsetting her then the punishment increases in intensity with each offence starting with her hairbrush then a wooden paddle. A tawse and cane are used if I upset her still further and if I still don’t learn then Emma uses everything on me until I am truly repentant. Only once has Emma had to go this far with me and that was last summer when she was looking after me when my parents were on holiday and I persisted in refusing to tell her where I had been during the day because I’d been spending it with you instead of studying. By the end of the punishment I had told Emma what she wanted to know and I could feel it whenever I sat down for four days afterwards. Despite this I still love Emma deeply as a sister’ I answer.

‘Remember what I have said about your behaviour Ken’ Alison says as she is giving me a kiss on the cheek as I’m going home for the night.

‘Little brother there is something we need to discuss. You will call me as soon as you get home tonight’ was Emma’s message which I checked as I was walking home and when I got in I called Emma from my mobile.

‘I had a call from Miss Hall, one of your teachers, earlier this evening after you have given her my number which was a good first step. Miss Hall gave me a disgraceful report on your behaviour over the last year. Is this behaviour going to change Ken?’ Emma asks although it really wasn’t a question as there is only one possible answer.

‘Yes Emma I want to change this behaviour which is why I gave Miss Hall your number’ I answered.

‘Well let me just say that if your behaviour does not improve then I will tan your behind so hard that you will not be able to sit comfortably for a month!’ Emma answers before ending the call. I know that she means it and equally importantly I know that she will have absolutely no second thoughts if she has to do it. I was called to Miss Hall’s room at the end of the day on Friday and she told me that the second meeting would take place at 7.30pm at her house instead of in school. I didn’t think anything of this at the time and took the address when it was handed to me. My parents are used to me going out at the weekend so there are no questions when I leave at 7pm.

I am greeted by the frightening sight of Miss Hall sitting on the sofa flanked by Emma and Alison. Alison explained what I had said to her about why I behaved so well around her and Emma including the fact that it was respect, fear and love that drove this obedience. Emma then said that I had told her that I wanted to improve my behaviour before outlining the threat she had made to me if I didn’t improve.

‘Well Kenneth it seems like you have admitted your faults to yourself and genuinely do want to improve your behaviour. I have discussed this situation with both Alison and Emma and we have decided upon a solution that will provide you with the necessary fear and motivation to improve. As you will know I am no longer allowed to belt you at school however this restriction does not apply to Emma and I believe that because you told me to contact her you actually realise that you need to receive corporal punishment for these sins and therefore you are likely to agree to me punishing you outside of school as well. Therefore I will be keeping a weekly report on your behaviour and once a week you will be called to account and punished by Emma in front of us for these offences. Do you agree to this and do you also agree that I can join Emma in punishing you as a result of this offence?’ Miss Hall asked.

‘Yes Miss Hall I agree to this approach and I also agree to you punishing me alongside Emma as a result of this report’ I answer because even if I hadn’t agreed Emma would have punished me anyway.

‘Very well your first punishment will now take place’ Miss Hall says.

Strictly speaking, nothing new on the Markham project but here is more information from the same era, some of it has been provided by David Roman.

Along side corporal punishment, there were additional techniques employed by governesses and disciplinarians to augment the correction of young women during the late 19th and early 20th century.

Here is an extract from a memoir probably published during the 1930s about one woman’s experience as a young woman in the Victorian era and later as a mother.

“When I was a girl, no more than 17, my father having died, I became quite a handful for my mother. I used to go scrumping [stealing farm and garden produce] apples and pears with my friend Dora from down the lane. We used to sneak into the doctor’s garden and I think we began to be a real problem.

He complained to mother many a time but she only spanked us and sent me to bed. Then one day after a visit from my aunt, I was given a great lecture on how scrumping was stealing and I was old enough to know better.

I took no notice being young as I was and went on scrumping. I think we also took some plums and that caused the doctor to complain again.

Mother finally lost her patience and said that she would teach me a family tradition learnt from her grandmother.

I was led into the kitchen and made to stand and face the corner while mother and cook started making something behind me. I hated standing in the corner like a small child but grudgingly obeyed, as I could tell that mother was quite vexed with me. I was also curious, but unconcerned about what they were doing.

I found out soon enough. At last mother turned her attention back to me and pinned my skirts up behind. I protested that it was shameful but it soon got worse, I can tell you. She removed my draws, a thing not done, to leave me bare for mother, cook and her girl to see.

Then she began to rub a cold mix of a paste made from mustard and vinegar onto my bare flesh. At first it was just shaming but it soon began to work its way and it quite burned me until I cried a little.

I was made to stand so for an hour or more, by which time I promised to be good. But it did not end there as mother spanked me hard over her knee on the bare before cook until my behind was on fire.

I never did go scrumping again, but mother used this method many times after until I was quite grown and married off.

Years later when my husband was away at the war, both my daughters became a trial and no amount of spanking would tame them, being both above school age and the eldest bigger than I.

I remembered my mother’s family tradition and one night when they came home having been out with some independent girls from the munitions factory I decided to share it with them.

There was much protests about being a grown girl and too old and such from my eldest but after threatening to call our maid, I soon had them down to their singlets and bent over the kitchen table with the linen raised.

I coated their bottoms with the cold mustard paste as had been done for me not 20 years earlier and then set them to stew facing the kitchen wall for an hour or more. I can’t say I had any sympathy for their weeping or smouldering behinds, as I had had it as bad for much less than they.

They were quite docile when I finally allowed them to wash their behinds so I could spank them both soundly on the bare with a brush. I knew it hurt so on their tenderised flesh, but that was to the good.

I can’t say that they were always as good as gold ever afterwards, but the mustard and the brush kept them much better girls. The youngest was married after her man came home form the war, but when it was needed my eldest was dealt with in this way until she was quite 30.”

Preparing the bottom for a spanking by applying household spices was not the only trick available, there were others much less mild.

A ladies magazine from the 1890s recommended a “thorough application of pepper oil to the welted flesh of an incorrigible girl” to reinforce the lesson after she had been whipped. The girl should be made to stand face the wall or the corner after her punished bottom had been “quite coated with the properly prepared concoction” and “no carrying on or wild fidgets are to be tolerated.”

A later article went still further, suggesting that mustard enemas “were quite the thing to get a wild young woman’s attention prior to a good sound spanking.” That would do it every time.

More on this soon.

As I discover what I want to do with this blog, I find that selecting and showcasing pictures that move me and saying why they move me (as a Top) is a big part of it. Alas, so many of the pictures out there are derivative. But this one, which I know nothing about, but which I found at Keagen’s Spanking Memoir is worth noticing.

Keagen comments: “To me, it says, ‘You can fight and struggle, but I promise, it’s ok. I’m strong enough to handle the fight, and strong enough to handle you.’ Yet, she’s not being FORCED into position. She is there of her own free-will. (You can tell because of the relaxation in her lower body and back.) *simply* I like it. His hands come over top of her body, so she is extremely close to him, and he is not simply standing behind her. This is, more than anything, a gesture of love, of support, of safety. It’s a gesture of strength, of containment. . . . of boundaries.”

To which I would only add how much I like the focus on hands. Hands are so important in spanking – what he does with his (obviously) and what she does with hers, or is not allowed to do. And her hands are very open, very accepting and receptive. I like too the different skin tones they have. Something sexy about her paleness and his mustiness. Also this is clearly a ‘bondage’ picture, but without the ersatz chains and crap. What a relief. And, lest I forget my true calling, her bottom is very desirable, spankable indeed.

*laughing* ok who else has a Santa fetish? I don’t mean “fetish” fetish… more like a seasonal fantasy.
You see, while the Americans out there are getting ready for thanksgiving, up here in the true north, we’ve already got Santa on the mind! I am not Christian, I don’t believe in any religion actually but I love Christmas for the festivity, decorations, baking and gift giving. I don’t need a religion to make merry! And the giving and sharing and gathering of family and friends inspires spirituality naturally.
Anywhoooo.
You know those old pinup paintings of the girl in the flimsy negligee getting spanked by Santa? Yea, me like!
Plus, as soon as the stores put out the Christmas stuff, Luke starts with his Santa jokes and innuendos. He has a Santa hat that he actually wears outside around Christmas and then he starts with, “Wanna sit in my lap little girl?” and “Have you been nice or naughty?” and he has even “threatened” to buy a Santa suit just so he can,
= put a log in my fire
= crawl up my chimney
= bring milk for my cookie
The man is so lame and corny, it’s painful.
Today, I dragged out the xmas boxes and we sat and decided on our tree color theme. I am aware that there are fashionable color themes yearly and I think this year is black and red (or so I hear?!) and that’s not what I mean. We don’t have a lot of personal ornaments yet. We have a bunch that we hand painted together. We have a few we’ve bought from the One of a Kind Show which is starting again this Thursday *glee* and some from other places. We also have a single ornament engraved for every year we’ve known each other. But these aren’t enough to outfit a tree. So we pick a color theme every year and fill the tree with the ordinary colored baubles and icicles and stuff. For this year I wanted to do gold, blue and silver but Luke doesn’t like the gold so we settled on silver, blue and white. I need to do a bit of shopping like a new tree skirt and matching stockings and some other decorations around the house. I want a more elegant look this year. I like to switch between the pristine fashionable magazine look and the warm homemade traditional look. Two years ago we did a real tree and we made popcorn garlands, etc. Last year, we bought one of those artificial self-lit, keep its shape trees just to have one if we didn’t feel like having a real tree which comes in handy this year since I’ll be gone the week before Christmas on a vacation with my family so a real tree would have been too much for Luke. With the artificial tree, I can set it up before I leave and he doesn’t have to worry about watering it or making sure it doesn’t catch on fire.
Also on traditions… next week I am making gingerbread cookies and then we decorate them with the family. It’s a yearly thing and so much fun. I love baking but I am not too crazy about decorating. My mom and sister however do enjoy it quite a bit. So we get together, I bake, they decorate then we keep some and wrap others for gift giving. It’s fun! This year, I am also taking some glass ornaments for us to decorate for their tree. They are just glass ornaments and I am taking stuff to decorate them with. My plan is for everyone to put a little bit of themselves in each of the ornaments by writing something on a bit of paper that we’ll fold and put inside the ornaments. I think it’ll be fun!
Another first, I think we might attempt decorating the outside of our house with lights this year. I am still not sure if it’s something we can manage because neither of us ever has but we now have a house so why not? We are certainly thinking on it.
I am going to post pictures of the cookies and the tree and anything else fun as soon as it’s up.
I am still miserable with my flu but I am getting in the spirit!
Yay!

bit-o-fun:
As I was finishing writing this post…
Luke: if you could only breathe through your nose
Me: …. um what? (dazed by accumulation of mucus and distracted by post writing, wondering faintly if something stinks)
Luke: blow job
Me: Oh (thinking to myself “duh” and toying with the idea of saying “the only reason you’d care for me to get better is so I could suck you off”… in a teasing fashion of course, decide against it)
The poor sweetie has been rather stressed out with work lately and has had so much to do he’s only had time for work and sleep essentially. So just as I finally finish the post he kind looks up at me and says,
“I am going to spank you just to hear the sound”
Which, of course, does all kinds of things to me. I have a burst of butterflies that aren’t content to stay in my belly but insist on exploring both my pussy and my chest. One or two make it all the way up to my brain causing my mind to stutter all over itself,
why did he give me an explanation?
oh *infatuated sigh* he is using me as stress relief, I am a stress ball *glee*
did he want me to think it wasn’t punishment? Is that why? Oh is this so I won’t confuse this with the dreaded, promised punishment spanking? *butterflies do flips in unison*
“Wait in the kitchen” he says causing even more butterfly action and now I am standing in the kitchen wondering if he read my last post or if he is more of an exhibitionist than I thought and then he walks in and my mind goes quiet.
He  squeezes my breasts through my t-shirt.
“Show them to me”
I do. He commences squeezing, pinching, sucking, biting, pulling, etc making me gasp and moan. Then he grabs the damn spatula and sits on a kitchen chair and I am over his lap.
I had imagined this was going to be a light spanking. I now feel pity for stress balls. It wasn’t a very hard spanking per se but light, it was not. I myself was so distracted by my stinging bottom that the sound of wood against skin did not register for me. I did, however, managed to yelp and moan enough to give him an earful! I mean seriously. That little thing stings!
He finally puts the spatula away. I sigh a sigh of relief which turns into yet another yelp as his hand makes contact. After an implement so light, inflexible and stingy, his large hand feels forceful. Did I mention his other hand was on my breasts the whole time, pulling on my nipples to change the pitch of each moan? Finally he slips me off his lap, gives my breasts and sore ass another few pinches and squeezes and we both go back to our works.
I have just settled back when he looks up again. My smarting bottom was not enough stress relief.
“Show me your tits” he calls over and I obey from where I sit.
“Pinch your nipples.” I do.
“Pull them” Yes Sir.
Oh he is jacking off to me kneading my breasts and pinching and pulling my nipples. I am incredibly turned on. I am now being used as live porn. I put on a show.
He cums.
Now he’s had enough stress relief. He goes back to work.
I am incredibly wet and needy.
My body does a self assessment and remembers it’s sick.
I still can’t stop smiling.

On Saturday night there was a Manhattan Spanking Association party at a brand new location.  I had been looking forward to this party for over a week and by the time it rolled around, it’d been 2 weeks since my last spanking.  Ok, technically, it had been 24 hours as I’d been spanked briefly the evening before, but I digress…After arriving thirty minutes early and standing around with Rad until the setup crew and guests started to arrive, it got a bit more serious.  Why? Because I’d had a punishment coming for 3 weeks and another for a week that got added on and it was looming closer and closer.  I’ve blogged before about this relationship I have with discipline, and what it means to me, and the one specific rule I have for myself is to get to bed at a reasonable hour (midnight-ish, not 12:30, not 1, and heaven forbid later) so I can wake up rested and at a decent time for class.

Granted it’s my rule, there are some slight stipulations placed by not me, but my mentor *cough* Rad *cough* and one of them is that I am supposed to be in bed at midnight-ish and trying to sleep.  “Trying to sleep” does not equal reading or playing solitaire on my phone, or even doing homework.  I can ask, and am often granted permission, to stay up late for any and all schoolwork.  Well, the instance I was to be punished for, was being up and reading instead of making an effort to fall asleep. The previous weekend he had warned me rather harshly (although not unfairly) that I’d be punished if I made it a point to challenge this rule, and that he didn’t think it was a game and didn’t like that I was acting as though it was.

I wasn’t purposely acting as though it was a game, but with the mood I’d been in, which was one of challenging, yes, I was playing a game.  But once the punishment had been issued and I knew it was coming as soon as the privacy and opportunity were available, suddenly I didn’t want to be in trouble anymore and I wanted to go back to thinking about good girl spankings and being caned into submission. No, I was going to get the punishment strap (really just a London Tanners strap, but it’s only ever used for real life discipline) and it was going to be 25 and hard.

Then, just two weeks later something else happened.  I was sick and unable to do a practice session for a report for class until the day before it was due.  Realizing I needed to hand in a Giving report and had only gotten in a Receiving, I decided not to write one at all and just do a giving at a later date and hand in the report late.  We were permitted one late report for the semester and I had handed the 4 previous ones in on time.

I was informed  in a to-the-point text message, that I would be punished for late assignments.  How? Six of the best of course. I was not looking forward to six cane strokes on top of a hard strapping.  I did end up doing the session report on my break and my teacher accepted it as on time, but my intention was otherwise and thus I was still to be punished.

Seeing as how I was already in quite a bit of trouble, and didn’t want to be in more, I didn’t ‘confess’ other bedtime mistakes as per our agreement.  I am to inform him when I’ve done something, and he decides if I am to be punished or not.  Not me.

When it came time for my strapping at the party, I was sent downstairs (the new location has two floors and 3 of the private playrooms are on the bottom floor) and we went directly into the unoccupied room.  Standing in front of me, Rad lifted my chin as he often does (I have a bit of a problem with eye contact *whistles*) and asked me to tell him honestly, how I had been recently with getting to bed on time.  Completely unable to lie to his face, I said “Not good.”

It got serious.  I was lectured on how keeping information from him was lying and how unacceptable that was.  I won’t get into the specifics of it but he took me across his knee right then and started spanking me for not telling him about other times, reminding me that it was he who decided when or if I got punished, and not me. The lecture and telling of future consequences had me crying, and he was only using his hand.  It wasn’t very long despite it’s strength, but he stood me and moved me to the couch and had me lay down.  I immediately grabbed a small throw pillow and clung to it.

He told me there would be no leniency, no break between strokes, that I had basically given up any small comfort by lying.  I felt horrible.  Well, horrible is an understatement, but I felt awful for not only disappointing him in the first place, but then keeping other things from him, simply because I was afraid of being in more trouble.  I knew the worst he’d do had he known about the other instances was punish me, but lying is quite different.

At this point, I completely accepted my punishment but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.  Again, I am not sure it was the hardest strapping he’s ever given me, but it was certainly the worst.  The strokes were hard, fast, and unsympathetic.  I didn’t turn my head, I didn’t want to see his face.  I knew he’d look angry and disappointed, and I just didn’t want to see it.  I held onto that pillow, cried, and held still.  I wasn’t trying to be stoic, but rather, accepting. Submissive.  I wanted to submit to the punishment, take it, and accept it as loving correction.

I wanted to show him that I knew I had made a huge mistake, and that I did trust him to punish me when, and how he saw fit.  I didn’t kick or beg, or even say anything.  I knew he knew I was sorry, there was no need to say it anymore.  When the 25 strokes were finished, he put the strap down and knelt down right beside me and rubbed my bottom a bit.  He sat down next to me and asked if I was ok, and I nodded yes.  He stroked my hair a bit and spoke to me, but I don’t recall all of what he said.  I just remember it was comforting, that I felt special, important, loved & cared for, and most of all – forgiven.  I felt like, even though I mess up sometimes, and sometimes I mess up a lot, and as long as I am honest and upfront about it, we can deal with it.

After a bit I sat up and pulled my panties up, and we sat on the couch for a few minutes and he held me and we talked some more.  Eventually we got up and made our way back to the rest of the party.  Glad that my punishment was over, I went about challenging him with looks, eye rolls, and other similar things until he finally just sent me into the room off the main socializing room, and spanked me until I stopped giggling…unfortunately for my bottom and thighs, it took a trip or two across his lap.

It also earned me two extra cane strokes.  The caning came later and was straightforward and uneventful.  Thankfully, he used a less severe cane than the thick one from Paddles a few weeks ago, but it still stung like crazy.

On a side note: life is looking a bit up, I’ve found an apartment, and Thanksgiving is tomorrow (er….today).  I will make a post later in the day or tomorrow with a bit more about the last week or so.

- Marie

Turkey and such will be the fare on Thanksgiving along with a helping of football. I was musing about all the massive differences between scratching my kinky itch when I was a teenager and now. A cornucopia of riches exist at the moment but is that a good thing?

My kinkiness, especially my love for spanking, welled up rather dramatically when I was in my teens. Back then, the idea that I could actually participate in the activities that turned me on was a dream that I thought would never come true. My only outlet in those years (and a lot of the years after that) was pornography. I would get on the bus and then subway, trekking into Manhattan to visit the string of adult stores that populated 42nd Street between 6th and 8th Avenues. Of course this was when New York was a lot rougher and before a couple of corporatist mayors decided to transform everything in sight to make it safe for their wealthy pals and vanilla tourists making a side-trip from Branson, MO. I was fourteen or fifteen years old, trying to hide my face as I sneaked into this store or that, perusing the shelves and frequenting the booths where one could see short films (this was before video got cheaper) and, of course, the obligatory peep show. There were a couple of times when I paid to see a nude dancer and watched the look of surprise on her face when she saw that it was a kid on the other side of the glass.

In those days, it was always exciting to find a spanking magazine or two. Most of the ones that existed back then were, for lack of a better term, crap. No scenarios that made sense in the photo spreads. People spanking each other with ottomans and shovels. Models with looks on their faces that can only be described at contorted campiness. However, it wasn’t like I knew any better so anything was better than nothing. I would eventually get enough courage to take the magazines to the counter, pay for them with whatever money I had scraped together and rush out before I could be assaulted by some unseen assailant — and we all know they were lurking behind every dildo display. Before going home, I’d make sure I stopped at a comic book store and bought a few so I could put them in the same brown bag in case anyone got curious enough to take a gander. Superman on one side, Spider-man on the other and copies of Swat and Sting sandwiched between.

It was like I was on a secret mission back then. Deep behind enemy lines, holding onto the secret information that I had to get back to headquarters — so exciting, so James Bond. The mere seeking of it out was half the excitement considering that after I got it home and locked my bedroom door, it wasn’t long before the messiness began. Admittedly, one or two magazines contributed to quite a few sessions of messiness but each was fleeting and certain not as thrilling as the chase, the hunt and eventual capture of spanking porn.

Years later it was mail order and the excitement of waiting for a package to arrive, tearing it open in secret and waiting for the moment when my parents or roommates or whoever would leave for more than a few minutes so I could get down to business. Geez, why was masturbation such an ordeal in those days?

Flash forward to the present. Porn is everywhere and I mean everywhere. Stuff that I could not have dreamed of as a kid is now regularly produced by amateurs, pros and all the flavors in between. At the touch of a few keys on my computer, I can be viewing stuff that I would have had to go on secret missions as a teen to get my hands on. Hell, I could not have gotten my hands or eyes on the stuff I see now — porn certainly has ramped it up since I was a kid. The point I’m trying to make in my long-winded way is that even though I can get anything I want easily, it is a little too easy. The thrill of the hunt is gone. The thrill of dumping the contents of a brown paper bag on my bed are gone. It was the excitement of waiting, of searching. of reaching for the tissue box, ready for a masturbatory Christmas wrapped up in three other Christmases with a couple of pagan festivals thrown in. All that is no longer possible when it’s all handed to you by technology that’s so easy, a teen can not only see it, he can produce it. When I can see fist fucking, spanking and a cooking segment all in the same video, the thrill is gone.

I’m not a technophobe by any stretch. I’m sitting here right now waiting for The Singularity to transform me into a post-human marvel of flesh and tech. But the excitement that I felt when I was a teen can never be had again. I have my memories but damn, a click of a button is not as satisfying sometimes.

Dyan and I have been going out with each other since the end of our first year at university and we discovered early on that we are both into corporal punishment with Dyan as the giver. We have played together regularly since this discovery but this has always been in private but I know that Dyan wants to administer a spanking in public as she’s given me a few playful swats when we are out but she seems scared to ask me to do this probably because she doesn’t know whether I would want other people to know about this side of me. I would definitely be happy for Dyan to spank me in public so I decide that I will have to set up a situation where she gets the chance to do it if she wants and luckily it proves very easy to do.

Dyan and I are both in the final year of our degrees and most of our flat from first year have remained good friends so we are celebrating together after our final exam with a picnic in one of the local parks. Six out of the eight of us from our first year flat are sitting round and the only reason all eight of us aren’t there is because two of them were international students who were only over for a year but I was still in contact with both of them by email. Paul was the only other lad in the group and just like me he was going out with one of the girls. We have bottles of champagne chilling in the pond and are having great fun drinking and talking now that the stress of the exams has passed.

Normally I don’t have to be naughty to get a spanking from Dyan but this will be the best way of bringing about the public spanking that we both crave. Having been going out with Dyan for a couple of years I know all of the buttons that I can push to wind her up and as we are sitting round I start to push these. Dyan knows that I am teasing her but she doesn’t know why so she shoots me a couple of warning looks as if saying to me, ‘take one more step and you are in deep trouble’. I stopped for a minute or two before starting again and without warning Dyan reached across to me and pulled me across her knee. A few smacks landed on my bottom and a hush descended on the group but Dyan was now in her spanking mode so she ignored the fact that we had an audience and continued with the spanking. Without a care for the audience Dyan bared my bottom and continued the spanking getting harder all the time.

‘Spank him harder Dyan he deserves it’ the other girls in the group say as I put up a play of struggling against Dyan’s grip. Dyan responded to this encouragement and it became the longest and hardest spanking that I’d ever had from her but I was really enjoying it so I didn’t want it to stop but sooner or later it had to stop. With a hard flurry of smacks to my bottom and legs Dyan brought the spanking to a close and she covered up my bottom before releasing her grip on my arm and legs.

‘Oh you should have left his bottom bare so that we could see it’ a couple of the girls say as I am kneeling beside Dyan.

‘No he would probably enjoy that too much’ Dyan answers with a grin on her face. I become very attentive and affectionate towards Dyan after the spanking and she realises at that moment that I have been deliberately playing with her so that I could get a spanking.

‘You are a surprisingly effective brat Ken but you’d better be careful from now on because I’ve got the taste for spanking you in public so nowhere will you be safe’ Dyan whispers in my ear as we are heading to the college bar that evening.

Happy birthday to us…happy birthday to us…happy birthday to mom, my sister, and meeeee…..happy birthday to us!!

*grins*

No birthday spankings for me! No birthday spankings for me!! No birthday spankings for meeeeee….No birthday spankings for me!!!

*bigger grins*

i hate birthday spankings. Face it, they always hurt. Alderon said that He still is going to give me some though; but they won’t be on my birthday. This means that they are not birthday spankings and that means they are not allowed to hurt.

i says it, so shall it be!

As I sit here incubating the viral family vacationing within me, I thought I’d redirect my thoughts from my various sick related aches and pains to a more “pleasant” category of pain.
Being in a Daddy/girl dynamic, I end up with a lot of spankings. Paddle, crop, bondage belt, prison strap, leather slapper… and I am sure I am missing implements here but really the only tool Daddy has in his arsenal of bdsm that he doesn’t use on his little girl is the braided flogger. That is way too heavy an implement to use within our Daddy/girl relationship.
But aside from the tools of trade which can’t be left around because of visiting family and friends, I have arranged for a “pervertible” in each room of the house. A pervertible, for those of you unfamiliar with the terminology, is an innocent looking household object that can be used in bdsm and kink. Examples are clothesline for bondage, clothespin for nipple clamps and a hair brush for spanking. Since these items look like they genuinely belong in the house, the vanilla observer will be none the wiser of the objects sinister purpose. So we have a hair brush in the bedroom, a wooden spatula in the kitchen, a ruler in the office, etc. These objects are only used for spankings but they look completely common place in their respective rooms so they can be left out. Having these things laying around the house allows for easy access when Daddy feels I need immediate correction for something. Also they are a constant and present reminder of the fact that I am his little girl. Finally, when company is over, these things become occasion for much blushing on my behalf. He can glance at these things and back at me, give me that certain grin and I need a change of panties.
The “down” side of these things, however, is the same as their advantage and that’s easy access… our kitchen is on the front of the house facing the street and the living room and bedroom face a park in the back of the house. So if it’s dark outside and lit inside and the curtains are open… everyone out there can see anything that goes on here. Now you think Daddy cares about that when he thinks I am due a spanking? Nooooo. Just the other day, I was in the kitchen and I don’t remember what I exactly had done to deserve a spanking but I think it was probably me being a smartass (common occurrence I might add *g*) because Daddy had me immediately bent over the kitchen table and had given me a couple of hard smacks. I do remember, a couple of smacks did not knock the smart out of my ass because 5 minutes later, I was still being a smartass so noting that my butt needed a bit more attention, he grabbed the spanking spatula, pushed  me firmly down on the table again and for good measure, yanked down my shorts and panties. Of course, just as he started walking towards me, my eyes went wide with realization of the impending full bare bottom spanking in full view of the window when it had just gotten dark outside which is generally dog walking hour… and I began to whine because a couple smacks may go unnoticed or be chalked up to being silly but this…
“Daddy please? Please not here! What if someone sees?”
“What if?” he dismissed it just like that.
That’s the stuff of mortification I tells ya. Midway through the spanking though, just as he had me bouncing in place and when the pain had build up enough for me to forget my potential audience, he chuckles and goes, “Oh and here are the neighbors.” all nonchalant. (in fact the neighbor across the way had come out, if they saw something or not… I am going to tell myself no)
And you see, we’ve had neighbors comment on seeing this or that pot or cake in our kitchen which proves both that we have nosy neighbors AND the extent of visibility out of the windows.
Soooo, between running in the house naked except for being wrapped in pee-dripping car blankets, getting thoroughly spanked in front of every window, moaning with a cock in some orifice in the garage AND the backyard, all of them repeatedly…. well we’ve been in this neighborhood for only a year but I think we might have to move soon!

Actually, the idea of being watched while I am being punished by Daddy or when I service him or when he is using me turns me on beyond reason… if it wasn’t by my neighbors. I do run into these people every day and most of them are my parents’ age. It’s just awkward! Anyway, I’ll write more later on my voyeurism, exhibitionism and believe it or not, I’ve already earned myself a pretty severe spanking to look forward to as soon as I am healthy enough to receive it. Right now my poor body needs the respite of sleep. Gah.

She always hated when her Sir was away. This time it was a business trip to Miami. He’d been gone 5 days already, with four more to go until his return. She was so needy for him. Despite their texts, phone talks and emails, it was never the same as his hands,  demanding and strong on her body.

He’d given her a delicious spanking before he left. Her ass still bore the marks from that last time together. When she was lonely she would rub her ass softly, remembering his hands on her flesh. She had cried, the pain in her ass commingling with the pain in her heart. He was leaving and there was nothing she could do about it. Submit, as always, to his demands. Wear that dress on Monday. Masturbate for me on the cam.  Kneel and think of me each morning before your first cup of tea. Do your exercises.  And she did. She was making it through. Barely.

He knew how hard these separations were on her. She was a needy slut. Not just the sex, although he loved how needy she was in bed. On the couch. Across the table. He smiled, remembering the blowjob she finished just before the taxi pulled up to take him to the airport.   His cum on her lips, her beautiful face tipped up to him.  He’d mailed the letters from his destination. They would help her over the last days until his return. He could hardly wait for the fun to begin!

She got the large manila envelope four days before he was due to come home. She recognized his writing immediately, and dropping all the other mail to the carpet, she opened it swiftly, hands shaking in her eagerness to touch something his hands had been on. Inside the envelope were 5 white envelopes. The first one said Friday. That was today! Before she opened it, she checked the others…yes, there was one for each day before he came home…but there was an extra. She thumbed through them again. Friday, Saturday, Sunday Monday, Monday. Oh! The second “Monday” had a time on it…3:30 p.m.

She ripped open the one for today.

                  Good Morning, pet. I’m certain you’re in a  stew now, just about ready to be all weepy because I’m not there to administer corrective measures. Stop. No tears now. Are you dressed for work? Go change. I want to know you are in your black miniskirt, the white blouse with the black dots on it (the one with the luscious view of your cleavage) and your black, backless sandals. Heavy eye make up today, and the coral lipstick you know I like.

When you come home tonight, immediately disrobe at the front door. Lay on the carpet and masturbate yourself to an orgasm for me, then text me and let me know how it was in 3 words or less.

Eat your dinner, then you may watch some television for an hour, then an early bed. I’ll be on the computer at 9. Take care of my slut. I plan to use you hard when I get home.

Master

Oh Gosh! She had just a few minutes before she needed to leave for work. She bolted upstairs and changed into the outfit he ordered. All through the day she thought of him. Even when Evan the Geek from Payroll almost drooled on her tits. Maybe even more, then.  Her cunt was soft, warm, and gently drooling all day. She barely made it into the house before she was nude. Clothing strewn across the hallway, she almost threw herself on the living room floor and had a wild orgasm in a very short time.

Flushed with her tingling success, she texted three words to him. Oh. My. Gawd.

They laughed about it when they had computer time later that night. She slept well, and woke, refreshed. She missed him, but the prospect of another letter waiting for her downstairs sustained her.  She knelt in posture, focused on Him for the allotted time, then made her way downstairs, naked. As the teapot heated, she ran to the front hall table and took up the letter marked “Saturday”.  There were two pages to today’s letter. One was her letter. The other had a heading on it. Uh Oh. It read “Chore List” and it must’ve had 10 things listed on it, in his neat, bold handwriting. She turned to her letter.

Dear pet,

I know you did well yesterday, and know that I am proud of you. Your devotion is noted, and will be appreciated upon my return home. In the mean time, this being Saturday, you have no work outside the house. It’s time to get to that “to do” list you’re always saying you need to work on. I will expect that every item on the list will be accomplished today. Also, not on that list, is your masturbation time. At noon, I want you to go outside, lay in the hammock, and masturbate yourself to two orgasms. I don’t care how long it takes to get to number 2, you will remain in that hammock until you do. Oh, and no going pee beforehand. That should serve to intensify your reactions. You may have your potty break *after* your 2nd orgasm, as well as your lunch. Text me when you are done. One word. Then it will be back to your chores.

Tonight I epect you will be tired. You will have had a busy day. Take a long soaking bath, and be on the computer by 930 p.m.

That’s my good girl.

Master

She was intimidated by the size of the list, but what else would she do anyway, with him gone. The idea of masturbating at noon, outside, now that was certainly going to hang on her mind all morning!

She forgot he had told her not to pee, and had drank several glasses of iced tea as she worked her way through the list. By noon she really, really needed to pee, but she was also very turned on. She slid out of her shorts and tank top, and went outside to the hammock. Nestling into the swinging sheath was interesting, and the rope bit deliciously into her back and ass. Finding a good position to pleasure herself and not fall out was a challenge, but eventually she got the hang of it. Her first orgasm came quickly, her cries muffled, the hammock swinging gently with her ministrations. The second O was longer in coming, and she worked, rested, feeling the desperate need to pee nearly overtaking her excitement at doing this naughty deed outdoors. Eventually her clit overpowered her bladder, and she turned her chin skyward and keened out her release. Panting, she opened her eyes, squinting against the glare of the midday sun. She thought she saw the curtains twitch at the Campbell’s house next door. Could they have seen…..her blush covered her entire body, as she flung herself out of the hammock, and ran for the house. After emptying her bladder, she text messaged one word to him.

FREAK!

That night, when she fell into bed, she was exhausted, as He had said she would be. Again she slept soundly. Her Master was taking such good care of her!

Discipline. Every parent’s worst nightmare. Well, I guess it should be every parent’s worst nightmare. It’s mine. I bring this up because I gave my 2-year-old a good spanking this weekend. We are so accustomed to him being very laid back, a bit slow, and more or less really mild-mannered. We got so spoiled.

Then he turned two. Here is a kid who is a bit developmentally delayed and goes to therapy, but somehow knew that in terms of acting like a little son of a gun, he is exactly two.years.old. What’s worse is that I can’t even tell if he isn’t listening to me or doesn’t understand. And I don’t know when it is I became a comedienne, because he is constantly laughing at me. Gutteral laughs. His dimples are so deep I am thinking of serving egg nog out of them at Thanksgiving. He thinks it’s all just a riot. I keep a straight face, I walk away to laugh, I try to be serious. But he just loves to do the opposite of everything he should. Congratulations kid, you have caught up with yourself.

So this weekend I took some pinches to the face, a smack, a kiss, then another pinch, then my glasses got ripped off my face. His dad got “pantsed” while trying to make taco meat. More than once he ran into the kitchen, smiling big, eyebrows arched, dimples deep and ready to pull his dad’s pants down. Playing in the garbage. Tossing food across the room. Sticking the drain cap in his mouth. Towards the end of the day, especially after the glasses face pinching, I lost it. I spanked.

Now oddly enough, we had just gotten done watching a string of Supernanny episodes. She is really pragmatic and has good ideas that I wouldn’t think about otherwise. But nothing that day was working. And I spanked him. Yes, I get that it makes no sense to stop someone from hurting you by hurting them back. But some people at some point in their life actually need to learn empathy, sympathy, and discipline by means of experience. I had no idea how much fire hurt until I burned myself as a kid. I loved the stove. My mother was not a hitter by nature in the least. But the day I was 3 and ran away across the street to my aunt’s house, I got a spanking. I should say in my defense that I got a teenage neighbor of ours to walk me across the street to my aunt’s house. But still, I acted like a jerky brat, threw a tantrum, and then left my house and crossed the street into better pastures. My welcoming committee wasn’t great. I remember it now 32 years later.

When the boy got his first official spanking,  he acted as if I poured ice water on him. He was shocked. He was afraid. He was confused. And I was a bit dead inside. Mostly because I really struck him out of anger and frustration and it was clearly very in the moment. But I don’t know how or when else is a better time to spank? 

I know many people have many methods. All of the old TV shows show the parents telling their kids to go upstairs and wait for the whoopin. This seems very well thought out and logical and in the mind of a kid, extremely frightening, which I suppose is the point. And I do think that in reality, a snowflake could do with a shock to the system. Not a beatdown, mind you. Just some old-fashioned no-nonsense fanny whooping.

I have to ask myself if I would be able to do it, because on the other hand, it seems so calculating. And the only “violence or physical altercations” I have ever witnessed were not meant to dissuade. They were purely meant to humiliate and hurt, and relieve stress. Pure and simple. Where is the line in my house?

I am not sure there is a clear-cut answer that is going to work all of the time. And I know that every good parent probably does really feel like shit after the spanking occurs. I know I do. I think I will walk away if I really feel in my gut that I just want to stop stressing before I administer the spanking. But if he is lighting things on fire, sticking objects in light sockets or running out in the street, I reserve the right to spank, and possibly strangle Homer Simpson style.

I do have some hope that once he is back into the swing of things with his speech therapy he will have some more tools to communicate with us. And vice versa. We lost his therapist to a combination of red tape with her license and also the state not paying therapists for work in EI. We got lucky that we live in just a decent enough neighborhood to have someone willing to travel and pick up our case. Many others aren’t that lucky and that’s a problem. But that’s for another post.

I haven’t gotten any judgement from any friends on this issue. Lulu says that I have to give him boundaries otherwise he will grow up to live in a neighborhood filled with fuckfaces and acting like a douchebag on Facebook Version 7.0. I am inclined to agree.

So in the end, no pun intended, I maintain that I feel like shit about spanking my kid. I will always be on the lookout for functional ways to not have to spank my kid. I will hopefully recognize when I need to cool down and spanking incidents will be the exception, and not the norm.

Someone should write Miranda Rights for spanking. You have a right to remain silent. Anything you do can and will be held against you with your parents. You have a right to straighten your shit up and you have a right to ask us to assist you. We in turn reserve the right to possibly and maybe spank you. We hope not though.

Bebe