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Alright, y’all: I promised you a taste of spanking fiction. Here it is; it’s posted nowhere else… Of course, you’ll have to buy it to read the rest! Warm up on Chapter One as well!

Chapter Three
She looked up at the doctor for a second, who was obviously shocked by the revelation. Now, he looked even closer at her face than before. This wasn’t too surprisingthe Weather family was quite well-known, particularly in Kingstown, so she thought nothing of it, but when she finally looked at the pale blue eyes of the ship’s captainor admiral, rather, she understood he didn’t care for who she was one iota.
“What the devil are you doing here, girl?” snapped Logan Liam firmly, looking very unhappy to meet her acquaintance again.
    She looked up from the ground at his angry eyes for a moment, but she didn’t know how to respond, so she looked back down at her small black slippers instead. “I just” she began, very quietly.
    “What, what?” he mocked sharply. “Speak up, Miss Weather. I’m sure your excuse will be quite entertaining for everyone.”
    “I didn’t know whose ship I was getting on to,” she assured snappishly, not liking being talked to in this way, particularly because Logan Liam was not her father. Her blushing cheeks and angry stare gave away her embarrassment from his mockery.
    He was coming up with a furious response to her excuse, she could tell, but his mate interrupted it. “Should we give the standard punishment for stowaways, Sir?” Caldwell asked professionally.
    If Logan even considered giving her the ‘standard punishment,’ he didn’t look like he had. In fact, he looked like he was quite agitated that Caldwell had even mentioned it. He looked at him as if he had told an ill-timed, unappreciated joke. “Yes, Mr. Caldwell. Standard punishment. Let’s take the High General Weather’s daughter, bare her, and whip her hard enough to spatter some of her blood about the deck.”
Caldwell bit his lip and motioned for soldiers to take her arms. Renny’s eyes widened and she tried to scramble backwards. Logan sighed exasperatedly and snapped, “I was being facetious, Mr. Caldwell.” It amazed him that a man serving under him for ten years couldn’t tell when he was and wasn’t being serious.
Renny calmed immediately, though she seemed to understand that her sin was quite serious by the way she hung her head.
“We are gentlemen, Mr. Caldwell. We will act like gentlemen.” Logan looked into Renny’s inquisitive eyes, which were looking for some sort of forgiveness and acceptance that she would not be getting out of him. “See that Miss Weather is taken down to my cabin, and give her anything she requires.” With that, the admiral disappeared back to wherever he came from.
    Caldwell cleared his throat, looking quite put out from the admiral talking down to him so, but straightened himself and turned to the doctor. “Is she alright, Sir?” he asked her.
“Hm?” said the doctor, looking very distracted before he settled himself. “Oh, yes, she’s well. She’ll be even better with some good sleep and some water.” He looked at her very directly for a second, but then turned away without another word.
Caldwell sighed, and offered his hand to help Renny into standing. “If you would follow me, Miss Weather?”
Feeling her legs stretch both painfully and happily under her, she slid off of her seat and allowed herself to be escorted down to the captain’s cabin.
As Logan finished his checks and duties, Renny never for a moment escaped his thoughts. Half the time, when thinking of her, his jaw locked in frustration, and other times he found himself quite pleased. At least she wasn’t discovered the night beforehe hardly had a rash thought in his head reserved for the company of women. But still he didn’t like that he would now have to make sure that she was protected and well provided for. Henry LaNosse, the doctor on the ship, would no doubt help himafter all, he used to be a Weather, and was Sirius’ eldest, but he could tell that neither of them had recognized each other, and it was hardly a time for family reunions.
The fact was Logan didn’t like women aboard shipsespecially ships of war. There was too much danger, particularly in battle where women were helpless and vulnerable. It would be more awful if they were defeated and Renny’s virginity was taken by a lowly, lusty sailor. The thought enraged him and he told himself that Renny could, under no circumstances, be harmed or even touched, not even by him. He would give the young noble woman back to her close family in one piece, whether he died doing it or not.
Finally, grumbling to himself, he told his mate that he would be in his cabin for the rest of the evening.
    When Admiral Liam entered his cabin and looked about, he was startled by not seeing her immediately and was on his way back out to call a search for her before he heard a hum across the room. It suddenly came to his attention that a privacy screen had been put up. He walked closer to it where he noticed, with much delight, he could vaguely see Renny’s silhouette behind the sheet, running a sponge over her body.
    He knew it wasn’t appropriate to watch her, but the old sailor in him couldn’t help enjoying it. “You seem a little too happy,” he observed, standing close to the sheet, secretly hoping to see more of her.
    “Ecstatic would be a more appropriate word for it,” she admitted proudly. Obviously unable to notice that she could be even slightly seen through the sheet, she began to wash her hair from the bowl of soap and freshwater she had been given. “It feels so good being able to clean myself. It was so hot in that barrel.”
    He raised a concerned eye, even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to see it. “I’m sure it was. I hate to hear of any discomforts you have had to bear, Miss Weather, but” he wanted to let her know that her happiness was not going to be long-lived, and that unless an astonishingly good reason was given for sneaking onto the ship in the horrible way she had, he was going to have to chastise her viciously, making being outside of the hot barrel also discomforting.
“Could I ask you to hand me my dress, Admiral? I’ve laid it out on your bed, which might as well be in another world for all the good it does me over there,” she interrupted with a light chuckle as he watched her silhouette wringing out her soft curls.
He sighed, hating to be treated like a female servant, but he found himself grabbing the garment and carefully bringing it over to her. She looked around the edge of the sheet and grabbed her dress with a sprightly expression on her face as if she expected to see him in good humor. Her smile faded as soon as she saw how stern he lookedin fact, he looked exactly as he did at the meeting; as if she shouldn’t have been there.
She suddenly looked completely unsure of herself. “Thank you,” she murmured very quietly and sincerely as her head disappeared behind the sheet again to finish dressing. She heard the admiral pace about before the pacing stopped and she heard him take a deep breath, cueing that he was about to begin a lecture.
“I am sorry for boarding. I didn’t know which ship I was going on,” she tried to explain before he could start haranguing her. “I just heard that this one was headed for Brinland.” She stepped out from behind the sheet, looking quite ready to be yelled at with her toes pigeon and her hands behind her back. Though there was still nothing about her that looked submissive other than her stature since her eyes were so tightly fixed on his own, as if reminding him that she wasn’t one to be intimidated.
“That’s just the danger, Miss Weather,” snapped Logan. “Any other captain would have surely cut open your skin with the cat by now, not giving a fig who you are or who your father is.” He put his hand over his eyes. “Good lord, it could have been days before anyone would have gone in that roomit was for back stock. You might have well been dead before we found you, if not very dead,” he continued to lecture.
“I obviously didn’t think barrels could seal so tightly,” she defended haughtily. “I thought I would be able to get out at my leisure.”
“Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you, Miss Weather?” he snapped fiercely. He shook his head, suddenly horrified by an image of her decaying body being found when his shipmates were all out of tobacco. What on earth would he have told her father? Oh, Gods. Her father. “Where’s your father?”
She shrugged, looking very much without concern. “At home, I suppose,” she guessed, nearly with a proud gist to her voice.
“You ran away,” he concluded. He rolled his eyes and sighed while putting his hand over his eyes; appearing that he was having a very bad headache. “Your father’s probably having kittens!” Sirius was a very organized man, very strict, but very good and loving under all. He knew his old school rival must have been panicked to the hilt.
Sirius had never talked about another child more than he had Rennyshe was very obviously his favorite, as well as his first and only daughter. The grief Sirius must have been feeling would be intense. “And I have no time, Miss Weather, absolutely no time at all to return you. This is my personal ship, but it is not a private yacht! It’s a man of war, and we’re on a mission.”
“Well, you’re just going to Brinland,” she said calmly.
“No, Madam, we’re not just going to Brinland. We’re to intercept a ship bound to attack the Brinland docks! We might well have a battle before we even spot a sign of land!” He seemed to march dangerously close to her.
Her eyes sparkled slightly with excitement, since she was, after all, a General’s pupil that had never been allowed near a battle. Though already thinking of the victorious event, she tried to calm him. “I’ll stay out of your way,” she assured, trying to sound calm.
“Even if you could ‘stay out of the way’, you’re in danger,” he informed darkly. “The cannon ball does not discriminate. You don’t know how easy it is to die on a ship.”
“Well, not that easily, if you’ve lived as long as you’ve lived,” she retorted smartly.
“You stupid girl,” he spat angrily. “A twelve-pounder could easily deprive you of your leg. Or a head. You think because you’re ageless means you can grow back one of those things?” He was yelling now, growing angrier and more worried for her the more he imagined. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest at the mere thought of returning Sirius’ daughter to him either in a box or missing some very important limbs.
“Don’t call me stupid, and there’s no need to yell,” she ordered firmly, yet at the same time sounding awkwardly fragile.
“Obviously I need to, Miss Weather, because you haven’t been yelled at enough!” he told her, removing his sword sheath and slapped it onto his desk with a clank. “I’ve never known such a streak of outright naughtiness,” he told her.
She blushed at the word “naughtiness“. It seemed to change the structure of the confrontation immediatelyshe was no longer the admiral’s peer he was upset withshe was a naughty child.
Wanting badly not to be thought of as a child, she said what she thought any young man would say. “I’ll work with the men,” she offered sincerely, straightening her back to look more able and strong. “And Poppa trained me in sword-play! I could be very good use to you in a battle,” she said, almost exposing her excitement. “I’m sure at the end of it all, you’ll be happy I came aboard.”
He looked at her as if she had just lost her mind. “I’m not having the general’s daughter’s hands and knees bloodied up, or getting in the real sailors’ way. To make this ship run I need strong, disciplined, and respectful men. You, my dear, don’t posses any of those attributes,” he said harshly as he sat very firmly on the bed. “As for battle experience; you have none, nor will you receive it here, I guarantee you. I’m sure the sword play your father taught you was just that. Play. Now, come over to me; let’s get this over with.”
Her posture seemed to freeze when he said that. She looked at him as he sat so straight, proud, and expectant. Did he really think she was going to bed him? Like she owed him anything? She was angered by the mere notion. Forgetting to even argue about her fighting abilities, she straightened her posture threateningly, like a snake about to bite. “Get what over with?” she asked tersely, her brow knitted with firmness and confusion.
“Your chastisement,” he promptly answered as he rolled up his sleeves, sounding as if she should have seen it coming all along.
She reevaluated his postureit suddenly looked all too familiar, only it was normally on her father as he sat on his stool in the woodshed, with the rolled sleeves and a strong posture. “You’re not going to flog me,” she informed certainly, standing strongly from her chair.
“Not with anything,” he admitted, sounding as if she should be grateful about it. “You’re a fool, but I’ve decided to be lenient because you are just a young girl, after all.”
“No, sir, absolutely not,” she informed with a shake of her head. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “You have absolutely no right at all.”
“I have all the right under the gods,” he told her firmly. “I am captain of this shiphigh admiral of his majesty’s navy! There is a tradition that has all stowaways flogged; however, in light of your selfish attitude towards your father and the absolute danger you’ve put yourself in, this one will be my pleasure.”
“Be reasonable, Sir,” she told him with a whine in her voice. “Think of me more as your uninvited guest?” They stared each other down for a moment, but Logan seemed much more at ease than she was. “I won’t be beaten by anyone but my father, I simply will not!” She stomped her foot by way of stating that she had ‘put it down’.
“I am done jousting with you,” he declared, looking very impatient. “Miss Weather, you do not want me to come to you,” he informed ominously. Suddenly he realized her posture had changed entirely, from a snake’s to a deer’s, looking like she was about to run. He stood up as to grab her, but his quick movements seemed only to bring on the inevitable. “Damn!” he cursed when she darted from the room at his very first movement.
The girl seemed like she already knew every corner of the ship, every hallway, every sailor that walked in her wayshe was moving with great speed, and he knew he was not going to catch her anytime soon, unless… “Seize that girl!” he barked at a sailor the girl was going to run past.
She zipped past that sailor, despite his quick movements, and she got halfway down the main deck before two sailors came at her from two sides and held her still. “Let me go, you beasts!” she demanded furiously, desperately.
By the time the Admiral got there, he was more infuriated than many had ever seen him; his face was red and his jaw was locked, looking like it had steel bones within it. “Thank you, Mr. Styles, Mr. Anderson,” he nodded when he finally found his voice again. He grabbed her arm tightly, but when she resisted with a sharp cry of “No!” he simply bent down and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
The crew broke out in heavy laughter as they saw the high general’s daughter being carried off like a naughty little girl by the admiral himself. Logan, however, didn’t think it was funny at all. “Where were you trying to get to, by the way?” he grumbled at her. “There are only so many places you can go on my ship.”
“Put me down!” she demanded hysterically and proceeded to pinch, scratch, and hit the Admiral’s back as hard as she could.
He winced at her attack and then gave her a loud swap on the seat of her skirts. “Cease and desist, woman!” he warned. “Or I will flog you bare in front of my whole crew, I kid you not!”
The swat and threat seemed to subdue her enough. She gave a sort of frustrated growl, but just hung uncomfortably over his shoulder on the way down to his cabin. “Please, Sir,” she began to plead again when they were below deck. “Can’t you change your mind?”
He gave a snort. “Absolutely not!” was the answer. “And you will now also pay for that little jaunt about the ship. Shame on you for your foolish behavior!” he scolded as he finally reentered his cabin. “I expected you to be able to accept your chastisement like a ladynot a small child!” He leaned down to plant her feet on the ground in front of him. “Do you have a hairbrush in your pack?” he asked, his eyes glancing over at the cloth haversack she brought along with her.
She felt the pit of her stomach flutter. She had too much of a notion that he hadn’t any desire at all to use it for the item’s original purpose. She had been spanked with a hairbrush beforeonly not since before her mother passed away when she was seven. It was a very childish way of being chastised, even though she knew the admiral didn’t plan on using it as gently as her mother had done. “No,” was the answer that came through a moment of silence, her cheeks blushing furiously.
“It had better not be in there, then, when I look for one there,” he said after eyeing her skeptically for a moment. He turned towards the pack.
“Maybe there is,” she finally admitted as he picked up her sack. “I don’t remember.” She felt like dying when she saw him grab it out of the bag, wielding it, inspecting it, and then looking over and inspecting her suspiciously. Finally, he stomped over and grabbed her wrist tightly and led her over towards his desk chair. “I thought you said you weren’t going to use anything,” she whined.
He sat down on the chair and, without any more warning at all, pulled her unceremoniously over his thighs. “That was before you took matters into your own hands,” he explained brusquely, grabbing for the bottoms of her skirts.
She squealed and put both hands behind her, trying to keep her skirts down. “No, Sir, please,” she begged. “Over the skirts, if you would!”
“I wouldn’t,” he simply said, undeterred by her modesty. “And you will get your hands out of the way at all times, Madam,” he said firmly.
She let out a dry sobbing noise and seemed to force her own hands to the floor. “You don’t have any right to do this,” she repeated with a cry as she felt all three layers of her skirts folding over her back. She gasped when she felt his hand on the hem of her pantalets, her face going redder than ever with humiliation. She whipped her hand back around and grabbed his hand firmly. “Stop!” she ordered. “You’re not my father or my husband. You can not bare me!” she tried to warn.
“As this ship’s master, I can,” he differed mercilessly, pushing her hand gruffly back towards the floor. Although he didn’t seem to wait a single moment before he had pulled down her pantalets, he did greatly anticipate themfar more than he knew was appropriate. The moment he had even seen her lingerie he had become too excitedtruth be told, he had never seen cuter pantalets in his life. They were of the softest white with the most innocent lace on them. In all his years, and as far as he knew, he had never seen a virgin’s bottomthe only ones he had seen were scandalously clad, seen for the few moments before the silks were ripped away before a torrid sexual encounter with some professional companions he frequently enjoyed while on land.
When he saw her bare bottom, an evil trill was sent down his spine. Her skin was so fair, and so softhe just wanted to put his mouth on it. As he restrained himself as much as he could, he let himself inspect it for a moment and saw that there were some red stripes settled ruggedly across it, particularly deeper on her thigh. “You’ve been beaten, Miss Weather?” he asked straightforwardly, yet a slight amount of sympathy did infiltrate her ears.
“Yes, Sir,” she admitted dejectedly, yet she was beginning to hope that he wouldn’t find reason to continue. “The night I left…”
She heard him heave a sigh, but then his voice was very strong. “Really, Miss Weather, all this nonsense from one short whipping? A very light one, too, from the looks of it. Your father used to do much worse on your brothers, believe you me, and it was only to their benefit Even though none of them were ever as horrible as you.”
It was then that the spanking commenced. Renny winced and squeaked after she felt his strong, calloused hand come down roughly on her delicate little bottom, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to tolerate it for very much longer. After the first few strokes she had decided that Logan was far harsher than her fatherand he wasn’t even warmed up yet. She had never been spanked by anyone other than her father or mother and so was aghast, now knowing that her parents had been so overly delicate with her.
It seemed like every smack of his hand left a red print and it didn’t seem to be long at all until she began yelping and kicking her legs with all she was worth. After the tenth spank she had lost her composure completely, and tried to turn around and protect herself with her hand. “Please, stop!” she begged.
He locked his jaw again and grabbed her hand and pinned it against the small of her back. “I’ve only just begun!” he announced, despite her sob. “How Sirius could have ever raised a naughty little girl like you eludes me,” he scolded as he continued to spank her. “You had better shape up, young madam, because you have far too much honor in your name to traipse around, shame your father, and climb aboard a ship, nearly killing yourself. Do you know how saddened your father would be at your demise? Do you have any idea?”
Renny was well beyond answering at this pointshe had thought her bottom already tender before the spanking began. Now she was beyond capacity for logical response. “I’m sorry,” she finally sobbed, tears now freely falling from her eyes.
“You’d better be,” growled Logan. “You should be mortified at yourself for causing Sirius so much grief! You’re simply lucky you’re not my daughter.”
‘I’d say,’ she thought to herself with so much humiliation that she felt enraged, but in too much pain right now to do a thing about it. She suddenly thought of all the men that could no doubt hear all of this on deck, and tried to stifle her sobs a bit, until she felt him stop.
She was in such reliefit was over! But then she felt the most uncomfortable swack she’d ever experience in her life and screamed as the flat of her hairbrush smacked the most sensitive skin just above her thigh. “Please have mercy!” she sputtered quickly as she sobbed, suddenly unable to conceive of anyone else on this ship but the two of them.

Did you guys like it? You know where to go
RomanticSpankings.com! It will also soon be available through Amazon!

After nearly two years of sitting in Bethany’s Woodshed’s member’s area, my first novel has hit RomanticSpankings.com! I’m really proud of it. It’s a doozy at 21 chapters, and I’ve priced it low so that everyone can get a lot of spankings at a high quality for their money.

 I REALLY need your support on this one, guys. I can’t say how much I’d appreciate your buying the story, and I really don’t think you’ll regret it. Not much money comes to me, but I want Bethany to ask me to write another and keep my writing career going. And I’d rather her ask me to do another than me have to beg.
What’s it about?


Renny, the daughter of the High General, is young and brave, but also a brat in need of strict guidance. Following an embarrassing incident in front of the king whom her father is sworn to serve, she runs away from her father’s firm chastisement. She stows away on a ship, only to discover that she has ended up aboard the flagship of her homeland’s navy, captained by Admiral Logan Liam—her father’s rival, who only knows of one way to handle unwanted guests on his ship. But, over the course of the voyage, his fondness for her grows, as does his realization that she will always require a firm hand, frequently applied to her bare bottom.

Despite his best efforts, Logan and Renny are soon swept into the heart of a growing revolution against the cruel and brutal king. As the danger around them grows, so does their bond with one another, but can that bond endure through the events ahead?

* * *

So, essentially it’s a spanking naval/war fantasy. I wrote it after reading a bunch of the Patrick O’Brian series and watching too much Horatio Hornblower. But although I’m biased, and it’s my baby, I think it’s quite good. I’m not very good at writing “boring”. Once a part starts to get slow, you’ll see it end and pick right back up into the action, so hopefully there’s never a dull moment.

Please, give it a try! Read chapter one: Click HERE for Chapter One ! Tomorrow, I’ll post one of my favorite chapters so you can really get a glance of the story’s spanking quality!

Alright—so. James and I won a free cruise to go on this Spring, and it’s my goal to wear nothing but bikinis and miniskirts the whole time. Although I haven’t been gaining any weight, my weight’s certainly not going down either, and like hell I’m going to wear anything sexy until I’m at my goal weight: 130.

I’ve been at 130 before and I think I looked very good there, though it’s possible that I may want to lose more when I get there. But still, that leaves me with about 20 pounds to lose.

Tonight, though filled with water, I weighed 151.1 pounds (in the morning I tend to weigh up to 5 pounds less).

Talking about the spanking diet with James was a challenge, because he knows my weight can fluxuate up to 8 lbs in a normal day—I don’t know why this is. Hormones? Water? The Devil? But whatever it is, it makes the “if you don’t lose weight at this time next week” rule very hard to enforce, because I could eat nothing and still gain 4 lbs by next week at this time. That’s just the way I am.

James and I have rattled around with the “Spanking Diet” idea for a long time. But it’s hard to enforce—things come up and I can’t exercise, or I forget to keep a food journal.

So, although James doesn’t need to lose weight at all, James still expects me to work out 5 times a week (if I’m feeling well) and to keep a FOOD JOURNAL. Which I’ve kept before, but they’re hard to keep track of. He’ll be keeping a food journal, too, just to make sure it is a possible feat and he’s not expecting something superhuman of me.

I should add that James hasn’t said anything about my weight at all. It’s just as good as when we first met—I’d gained weight for awhile, but then I lost it back to my original “meeting James” weight, which is where I am now.

Blah, blah, blah! Let’s bring this rambling escapade back to spanking. How can spanking help with a diet?

Well, that’s just what we’re looking into. Lots of people have lost weight on the spanking diet—just peek into the American Spanking Society and see—they have been rattling away at a Spanking Diet since I found their blog, and it looks like they’re doing great.

The idea in place is simple: if I don’t achieve my weight-loss goals, I get spanked. Pure and simple. A lot of people’s weight-loss goals are different; mine’s merely exercise and a journal. Others are sometimes rules like ‘losing so much weight every week’, but I can’t do that, as stated.

But to make this work, every time I come close to not obtaining those goals I’ll be realizing that my failures will result in a pink bottom, which is definitely a good motivator.

Where can it go wrong? Not with me, really—life will be very tough for me if I don’t follow my goals IF James follows through. SO the responsibility lies on James to enforce these rules, which is tougher than it sounds. James likes to spoil me, and he has to be really stern this time.

If it works, though—I will be one happy camper. Let’s just hope my butt doesn’t get too bruised on the way there!

Curses!
I’ve told ya’ll before—If I don’t get a spanking for awhile, that doesn’t mean that when I DO get spanked, I won’t go through a time where I get spanked CONSTANTLY. I don’t quite understand this anomaly; all I can do is verify its existence.

The funny thing is when I find myself in the corner with my pants down and an incredibly sore bottom, I’m always surprised that I’m there. Not because I think I don’t deserve it… I just thought that since it had been 24 hours before doing something wrong, I was simply in the clear. Sort of like the thought that, “If a police car doesn’t chase you after a minute, he won’t chase you.” Fallacy.

I guess the reason why he didn’t do it before is that we both weren’t feeling well on movie night. But, the next day we, unfortunately were just fine.

So, for all you detail hounds, it wasn’t as bad as the one earlier this week. It was just over the knee, with his hand. In fact, a lot of it was over my panties. I think that was a reward for not arguing much. When I was doing what I was doing to get a spanking, I knew I had done something wrong, and I regretted it. I was thinking the spanking would, in fact, relieve me of some the guilt—and it did.

Alright. My interested is peaked. What did you do this time, Korey?

I’m glad you asked.

I gave James crap in front of our friends to shame him when they were over for “movie night” about his progress of working on our condo. We know the issue—we talked about it together until we were blue in the face. I just said something to shame him into working on it even more. At a time where he couldn’t argue or respond.

The REASON James won’t argue with me in front of his friends is because it’s sort of an old thing we despise seeing in our friends. We want to see our friends happy—we hate how our friends fight with their wives so openly; how they disrespect and belittle each other. It seems like they’re not “one”, they’re not a “team”; they’re bitter rivals that are forced to live with each other.

So, to lead by example, James didn’t respond to my put down. He just saved it for the next evening, after church, to deal with me about it.

“Unfortunately, you KNOW I can’t discipline you in front of my friends. This isn’t the 1950s and I can’t be open enough about our relationship to punish you or give you blatant warnings or threats in front of them,” James told me.
Which raises a good point: What would it be like in the 1950s? From what we’ve seen in movies from that time period, it seems like it was pretty common to spank your wives. We don’t really know how accurate this is—we’re too pussy to ask our grandparents about the accuracy of spanking’s representation in the media.

“In the ’50s,” he speculated later when we were talking about it. “I wouldn’t imagine it being odd if I sent you to our bedroom right away, came into spank you, and then you came out. I still probably wouldn’t do it right there, of course—but they would definitely know you got one.

“Now,” he went on. “When you say things like that, in front of them, and I don’t respond, it looks like you won—that you succeeded in emasculating me. They don’t know that I took you in hand for trying to emasculate me in front of them. Which isn’t fair to me, and it’s not fair to you. Which is why,” he pointed a finger at me, “If it happens again, the spanking is going to be MUCH worse. You can NOT do that in front of them, because—I can’t just take you in hand. There’s nothing good I can do about it, and it’s not fair. Yes—I COULD respond with insults or harsh sarcasm like they do, but that doesn’t show that I’m a good husband. Not that we’re not humourless. We’re very open and we joke a lot, but when it’s obvious that it’s not joking—it’s jabbing, that’s when I need to do that.”

And he’s right—he should. It’s not fair to jab at him when he doesn’t jab at me.

Though, such things being said, it makes me wish it *was* the fifties. Not because I want my friends to know I earned myself a spanking with my horrible behavior, but because I’d like the other wives to get what’s coming to them, too. It seems like I’m the only wife who doesn’t have the leeway to be horrible.

At least James could offer spanking as a solution to his friends’ troubles back then without their jaws dropping. We might have gotten somewhere.

 


Alright, so I’m one of those people that honestly get turned on by age-play, but I don’t LIKE the fact that I do. All spanking literature used to be something I read under the covers—I didn’t want anyone to know what I was reading! Spanking, I knew, was SO taboo they wouldn’t even get it. They would think I was odd.

But what do you do when you WORK in the spanking biz? You become a little desensitized, I’ve gotta tell you. All day it’s spanking, spanking, spanking… Nothing’s ever new! Nothing seems to give me that old nervous tingle at the pit of my stomach. Except this one.

This story, even though I’ve read it a few time, still gives me that old mischievous “I shouldn’t be reading this” sort of feel, when it’s NOT EVEN AGEPLAY. So, in short—it’s for the people that want to read age play but don’t want to support age play.

How, you ask? Let me explain.

Bach is an alien—who looks human, if humans had 4 fingers and were eight feet tall. (Here’s what to keep in mind when I say “Eight feet” is tall. You know how “Predator” dwarfsArnold Swartzenegger when they’re fighting? The Predator was only 7’4”. Thus, 8 feet is HUGE.)

Pani is a human—taken right off the earth’s surface and put into a cage to be sold at a pet-store. And she’s exotic looking—she’s a redhead, she’s small, she’s cute. Bach buys her.
Bach isn’t an experienced pet owner, so he does everything anyone tells him to do, or what everyone else does—he dresses her up in his daughters (his daughters and wife are dead) old clothing, does up her hair, and then tries to “train” her with spankings… And enemas, and stretchings, forced sex, and time-outs, and everything else.
But then he finds out that humans are more intelligent than he’s told—definitely not as smart as his species, but definitely an intelligent race with intelligence that far exceeds a pet. You watch as he ends up falling in actual love with Pani, and not in the human-pet relationship sort of way.
So—it’s sort of age-play, sort of sci-fi, sort of bdsm.
At the end of the day, it’s fascinating. The story is told though Bach’s POV (supposedly there will eventually be a sequel where you see the same event from Pani’s POV), and you get to see his struggle with falling in love with his pet and letting her fill the void that was developed when his family died in a car accident. He has to learn pet-training the hard way, and you get to see his thought process through the whole thing. You become very sympathetic towards him until the weirdness is completely gone—your mind will allow Pani to become a pet and you will be brought along the journey with him. Because of the way Phelps rights it, you become entranced into this world. Just be careful—as soon as you start actually talking about what you’re reading, it sounds pretty weird and pretty fast. But that doesn’t take away from the excitement and hotness of this story.
It’s definitely not like a lot of the stories Blushing Publications’ is known for, where they’re just romance stories with a spanking thrown in instead of sex. This one is not something you want your mother to find you reading. But still, it is a great little story and I recommend it to anyone willing to expand their minds.
Available as an eBook at www.romanticspankings.com/index.php. Adults only.

Some of you assume I’m worse than I am—that I get spankings every day and then do the spanking celebration dance because I like them SO much. But that’s just not so. I rarely get spanked as discipline. I get a slap on the ass about 50 times a day, and every time we have sex, a fun little spanking will somehow scurry into our picture, but discipline spankings are not fun affairs, and are certainly not frequent.

Just the other day we realized that I hadn’t gotten a discipline spanking since we were in Santa Fe. That was in the beginning of September, folks. I mean, I’d gotten a couple of stern smacks, but not an over-the-knee sort of session that I most un-enjoy.

Of course we were both thinking the same thing at that time—that I’m “due”. Not officially, or anything, only we realized I can’t go too long without messing something up pretty royally where I don’t really have an excuse.

Did this happen on your anniversary? Woof!

No! Our anniversary was on Sunday, and it was wonderful. We can be very romantic when we try. We cooed at each other while we filled ourselves with fondue for about 3 hours. It really was lovely.

My spanking happened last night—Monday. I was in a horrible mood all day, so if you were to go back in time and informed me that I was about to get spanked, I would have no trouble believing you. Normally when I’m depressed, I walk right into one. When I’m depressed I hate myself, I hate everyone else, I hate my life, I hate who I am and what I can do and why anyone would ever put up with me. I was having a day LIKE THAT. And so, normally all the negativity makes me say something that causes me to upend over James’ knee.

Not because James would EVER discipline me for being depressed—he knows that’s probably not the best way of fixing me. If I get a spanking when depressed, it’s because he wasn’t understanding that I was in a sad mood, and only interprets my crazy actions as… well, craziness or meanness not something I’m doing because I’m sad—James is actually really good about being nice to me when I’m feeling fragile.


Despite the history, THAT’s not even why I got a spanking yesterday. It was because we looked a long time for a lighter and couldn’t find one. Isn’t that funny? Of course, if we can’t find something, it’s my fault.

You can’t find something, and therefore it’s YOUR fault? James is pretty strict…

No, no. James just realizes that I like to hide objects out of view in the house. It’s ALWAYS me. Once in a while, I would LOVE James to be the “misplacer” just to make life interesting. But it never is. It’s always me. I hide mail, magazines, newspapers, small objects, medication, toothbrushes, or anything at all that is just “left out”. I normally feel rushed when I’m doing this, and so I don’t break my back trying to figure out where all this stuff goes.


Which is fine—we have a clean house. BUT we can’t find anything. We spend HOURS looking for the crap I’ve misplaced constantly. I’ve placed our cat’s eye drops in my birth-control bag, once. I mean—it’s bad.

But, REALLY, James wouldn’t want to spank me for something he’s not positive is my fault, though, so he waits until he found, while looking for the lighter, his missing sunglasses in my sock drawer. How they got there? I don’t know.

So, James called me into the bedroom, and told me to take off my jeans. He had been very smooth with me all night; so much so, I didn’t really take any of this seriously. So I pulled off my pants, thinking he was just going to give me a few slaps, fondle my ass a bit, then let me up.

I was mistaken.

I *realized* I was mistaken when James slid my belt out of my pants. He did this probably because, unless James is going to a business conference, James does not wear them. He also probably did this because this is not my first punishment for this offense.

My composure went very quickly from giggly and aroused to whiney and concerned.

It started out with a vicious hand spanking—one where I thought he was definitely favoring my left cheek. It went on forever. He was talking—he always talks, and he wanted me to respond. It was something about how I need to remember where I put things and put things where they’re supposed to go, and if they don’t have a place to make one and keep it consistent. And stuff.


And then he grabbed my belt and immediately started spanking with it without much ado, and then he stopped. “You have GOT to start staying more still,” he said. “This would already be done if you didn’t fight so much.”

He says this like I can help it.

“I’m giving you twenty more with the belt.”

With number two he got my hand. I don’t know why he feels he much announce it—it just makes things worse. I know when I give blood, the nurse never says, “Alright. I’m about to put in the needle. Watch.” No. They just do it. They just stab you and get it done. Maybe if he did that, my hands wouldn’t be so quick to go back there and get themselves injured.

And then it was all over. I wasn’t crying—but I was put into the corner with my pants down and shirt lifted to think about it before I was able to survey what the damage was. And there was QUITE some redness going on.

Now, as I’ve mentioned before, James doesn’t ever get fresh during the punishment, but afterwards it does turn him on a little when he’s thinking about it generally, or looking at a pink bottom in a corner. So, James later said that it was the cutest spanking I’d ever gotten, and if he knew where the camera was, he would have taken a picture. But, again—only I knew where the camera was. J

That’s right—the reminder that James and I, though very generous with our advice, have been only married for a single year—not even! This Sunday, on the 8th, we’re approaching our one-year anniversary. Whoot!

That’s why we won’t be blogging until Monday, at the least. We’re going up to Kerrville, TX and Los Maples and we’re hikin’ until Sunday and then we’re going for dinner at the Melting Pot. It’s bound to be tons of fun.

What do you like about being married?

I really just enjoy being married in itself. And because I’m more honest on my blog than anywhere else, I like that marriage applies a sort of “ownership”—we have formed really into “one”, and because of that, we really hold an allegiance together that I don’t think people who are “just dating” really get. James and I are really invested in the other. There’s also the knowledge that our future, despite what may happen to politics or economics or work, always lies together, and that’s very comforting.

In short—partnerships/relationships may feel like they fill the void—but nothing quite does it like marriage. I know sometimes you think that if you get married that you will be stuck forever with someone who’s NOT into spanking, or IS into spanking, and you’re scared to death that you won’t be able to get out of it.

Don’t feel that way—marriage can fill the void that spanking can’t, and marriage is stronger than a dislike of discipline. Either way, it’s better to be married than to not be married.

Is it easy?

Like breathing. Now—you know it’s easier to breathe in the clear air of the country than in the muggy cities. Same thing—it’s not easy in adversity. James and I have been so stressed nearly all year by finances, and house-sales, and home-improvement, and everything else. There have been times where I have been at each other’s throats—defensive, exasperated, etc. But we’ve pressed through it until we’re breathing fresh air again.

So, make sure your priorities are straight—it’s all fine and good meeting gentlemen in hotel rooms for a fine evening of spanking, but there’s nothing like a man you can cuddle with on Saturday mornings (and James LOVES cuddling). If you’re lucky though, you can find both–if you want them to be seperate things, then… Choose marriage, and loose the spanking–because you can have a happy marriage without it. But just don’t go through life alone!

Originally posted by Korey on Bethany’s Woodshed Story Forum
“A GREAT HIGH FANTASY…”

At first, I wasn’t going to read this story. I normally don’t read stories about dragons, you see–I look over at the fantasy section when I’m at Borders, and decide quite openly that I won’t step near it. Fantasy has the potential to get really strange, really dramatic, and really complicated, really fast.

And I’m not too far off-base–Nattie Jones’ story here does the same thing–it starts of strange, gets really dramatic very quickly–but I guess it works, because this story was pretty damn good.

I digress–I was sceptical at first of the whole layout of Khys–I didn’t know if I liked the wise-woman set up and the choosing block at all. Definitely, Khys is a strange-ass place–here, women have no privacy, can be used, and are thought mainly of as property. Someone growing up in such an environment, I wouldn’t think could be at all interesting.

But I was obviously wrong. Sierra’s a pretty neat chick–oh yeah, she’s subservient. How can you not be when you grow up at Khys? When you grow up in North Khys, by 20, you’ve probably had over 4,000 spankings. That’s a lot. I, personally, would have given up the fight. But not Sierra–this character has nothing to lose, and better yet, she knows it. And when you have nothing to lose, and you get spanked about once a day, anyway, why not throw hot coffee on the master? Why not savour every bit of kindness you get, and resent everything else? Why not fall in love with the dragon master? As a woman, you’re going to serve someone while you’re at Khys–why not someone you like? At least it will then be service with a smile.

Truthfully, I nearly cringed when I saw that she was falling in love with him. The dragon master was a little unreadable for me, making the story pretty unpredictable. Up until the last chapter, I wasn’t sure how it was going to end–I got into thinking a servant could never be a Dragon Master’s wife–yes, yes, I too got caught up in the main character’s thought-process until I could no longer predict the people around her any more than she could–and I was actually surprised to see an ending I was happy with. The story should have been predictable, only it really wasn’t. Nattie’s world created a wonderful dynamic (where you can oust your wife, for starters) where you, as the reader, had to just let go and let the world reveal itself to you.

To sum up here, I just want to say that although I avoid fantasy like the plague, I really enjoyed myself by this magical story. So, if you didn’t read this story because the title and subject matter scared you off; grow a pair, read the story, and thank me later. Good job, Nattie Jones.

Will people who are into DD like it?

I don’t see why not! It’s a little off the beaten path, perhaps. Most women cling to the cliché where a man tames them by shocking them with a spanking. This has taming without the shock factor, but it works anyway.

Will people that are into Spanking Special Little Faucets (CDD, Ageplay, etc) like it?

An ageplayer will only enjoy this story if they still like reading about stuff that in no way concerns ageplay. This doesn’t have it. It’s not quite CDD either because of the fantasy theme—it’s very other-world based. But, it works. There’s a good vs. Evil theme to it. I don’t even know if someone would like it if they aren’t a spanko—but if you ARE a spanko… You’ll like it. I’m sure of it.

Available as an eBook at RomanticSpankings.com and as a physical book on SpankBooks.com

Since Korey has upped the ante by creating a repeating series, and since I’ve promised her I’d post much more often, I’ve decided to do the same. The general purpose of the series is to discuss and respond to complaints that women have about men (especially potential HOH’s) that I consider unreasonable or silly.

Upon hearing the subject of my series, Korey initially suggested (somewhat jokingly) that I title it “Quit your bitching woman!”, and in a sense this title is more accurate than “A Man’s Response”. However, I decided to be less combative, because the “woman” I’m referring to is certainly not Korey, but rather a generic “modern woman”. Furthermore, these are not meant to be responses specifically to Korey’s posts, although they may seem to immediately follow them suspiciously often. For the most part I usually agree with what she has to say. They may address side issues indirectly raised by Korey’s posts, or be about completely different issues. I’m going to try to keep them to a reasonable length.

Now, a confession… I play video games, for a couple of hours a week on average. I am not at all ashamed of this, I only call it a confession because I suspect a reasonable fraction of DD-minded women just decided that I am not worthy to be HOH. Even outside the DD community, I have found that a decent fraction of women have decided that if a man plays and enjoys video games, he must be immature and childish. I could give a detailed justification for why I find video games to be a perfectly acceptable pastime, how in many ways they are much more intellectually stimulating than TV, and how they can actually be a very family friendly activity, but I’m not going to do that. Instead, I’m simply going to make a blunt statement. First, however, I need to define two terms. I will make no effort to actually look these up in a dictionary, I will instead simply give what I use them to mean. (Why am I being so pedantic? Because as Korey pointed out, I’m an aerospace engineer who is still in grad school, and I am used to having approximately ten people edit, re-edit, and in general bitch and moan about everything I write. I humbly apologize for taking this out on you.) Now, the definitions:

Spare Time:
Time that is available for doing things that amuse you, for no other reason than that they amuse you.

Spare Money:
Money that is available to spend on things that amuse you, for no other reason than that they amuse you.

Now, the statement: Provided that he isn’t doing anything morally reprehensible, it is none of your business what your husband does with his spare time or his spare money. Furthermore, with the same caveat about morality, it is none of his business what you do with yours, even if he is a strict, hard-spanking HOH.

Note that I make no comment about how much spare time or spare money a person should have. This is dictated by circumstances. How much do you earn? Is the house paid off? Do you have kids or not? Is it a really busy week at work or not? Are relatives in town or not? Etc. How much spare time a person has is very much their spouse’s business. If a man is playing video games when he needs to be working, this is certainly a problem. If a man is spending excessively on video games, that is a problem. If a man is neglecting his family to play video games, that is a problem. These are reasonable points that a woman should raise with her husband, especially if he is the HOH. If he is a good HOH, he should honestly consider what she is saying, and if it is at all reasonable, adjust his behavior. As in everything else, if he isn’t sure who is right, he should err on the side of doing what his wife asks, because that is the chivalrous thing to do.

If she is being completely unreasonable, however, that is what the paddle is for. If you just gave the ok for her to spend $100 on shoes, and she then claims you are wasting money when you buy video game for $50, she might well need a paddling. If your wife just spent two hours watching “Project Runway” while you mowed the lawn, and is now griping that you want to play “Halo” for a little while, she probably needs a paddling. Finally, if the last three movies you’ve been to with your wife all had Sandra Bullock in them, and you didn’t complain, but she throws a fit when you want to watch “Predator”, she most definitely needs a paddling.

I was watching one of my favorite shows, 30-Rock, and they make fun of this “Catch Phrase” where they list a common complaint of a man and say it’s a “deal breaker”. IE: If your man wears a big diamsond necklace that says “Pussy” on it—that’s a Deal-Breaker, Ladies!” It’s equivalent to Jeff Foxworthy’s “Redneck” jokes, but as I was watching, I couldn’t help but realize that there’s so many “deal breakers” that happen in our community, as well. Here’s a few.

Askin’ More Than He’s Doin’? – That’s a DD Deal-Breaker, Ladies!

Many women get taken advantage of as soon as she makes it quite obvious that she’s a submissive, and wants a dominant boyfriend/husband. What happens is they think they can boss you around, because as soon as you say anything, than you’re being “uppity” and “need a spanking”. Don’t let them get away with this. A TRUE HOH will never ask more of you than he does of himself—ever. He’s a problem fixer—not a problem dealer.

Is he spendin’ your dough instead of savin’ your dough? That’s a DD Deal-Breaker, Ladies!

I know that you keep hearing “Carpe Diem”, with Oprah and those like her saying that you need to “live in the moment”. And it’s true—you should. But always be mindful of the future—it’s not going away just because you’re ignoring it. A good HOH will not spend all your money on a video game and then gasp when you buy a nice pair of shoes. He SHOULD monitor your spending, but he should also be monitoring his own. That doesn’t mean be cheap—it means be frugal—wisely frugal. A good HOH always has future goals that he knows will come and when that time comes, you shouldn’t have to worry about it, because the HOH has already made proper provisions.

Is he grippin’ school by the fingernails? That’s a DD Deal-Breaker, Ladies!
I see this happen a lot because James is still in Grad school. It’s disconcerning to me James is working as hard to get through as quickly as possible, while still making sure that he has enough experience and connections so that he can easily get a job when he is finished, but there’s so many that seem like they would be satisfied being in school forever. And it’s not just the aerospace department—my friend has the same problem who’s a biology grad student—he’s been working on his masters for YEARS now. Ph.Ds take a long time, but if they’re full-time students, it should NOT take more than eight years (That’s six years after undergrad; 10 years in college total).

A lot of the reason why they do this is because they’re afraid of that next step, they’re afraid of the real-world, they’re afraid of making decisions and they’re afraid of leaving their friends, and the girlfriend/wife/children be damned. It’s selfish and immature. A good HOH will always put the needs of his family above his own personal desires and fears. Always.

This will hopefully be a repeating series. For you DD-dreamers, check back soon for more reality-check deal-breakers. It’s important that before you ask someone to be an HOH, for them to ALREADY be an HOH. You can’t change a man.

Here’s something I wrote in Albuquerque but never posted…. Haha… Sorry about that. At least I was thinking of ya’ll!

Hello Folks!
I know ya’ll want to throw rocks at me for not posting for a few weeks. But I have excellent excuses. Number one—work’s been busy. Number two—I had to work construction on my condo, sell my house, and pack up to spend the summer in Albuquerque.
I’m in Albuquerque as we speak. Actually—that’s a lie. I’m on an airplane currently, flying away from Albuquerque to be in the wedding party of 2 weddings in 8 days. I’m going to be completely dished when I get home. I hate being that age when everyone is getting married…
I bet everyone’s wondering at this point if I’ve been good. No. No, I haven’t. It’s been a rough week for my rump, no doubt. And not because I’ve been doing a new exercise regimen.
It seems like—and I think I’ve mentioned this before—that I tend to go long stretches of not being spanked and then I go into stretches where I’m spanked all the time. I’m unfortunately in the later stretch. Which is why my “vacation” in Oregon might be more relaxing than you think.
So, when we moved into the furnished apartment here and James went through the drawers looking for a spanking instrument, just because he does stuff like that, and he pulled out the smallest, flattest little wooden stirring instrument you’ve ever seen in your life, I thought I was in for a pretty good summer. I had purposely forgotten the paddle at home, and this little wooden whatever was NOT going to take its place.
Sigh… If only. It didn’t seem too long before I was standing naked in the corner, getting a lecture for making sure another virus got onto my computer because I A) didn’t install a virus or spyware protector as advised and B) didn’t make backups of any of my files. If it was a worse virus, I would be in a very bad mood right now, indeed. C) looking at… questionable, shall we say, websites that allowed the virus to enter.
And so, after I was over-the-knee in a spanking that I felt was long enough— until my ass was quite red and worn out—I was begging him to at least put a “number figure” as to how many times he was going to spank me, to which he refused; saying he didn’t know how many it was going to take until he had “made his point clear”. He pulled out the spoon (the little wooden whatever from before).
So, he used it mostly on my sit spot, and I’m not going to talk about the sting it left—I like to think that any wood hitting flesh is going to sting (but not as much as the paddle—not by a long shot). What it did leave, that the paddle hadn’t, was this itch. This itchy pain that I’d heard about when folks describe “switching”. Not an itch like mosquito poison might give you, more like sharp pain that feels like it’s crawling around a particular area. Not very fun to walk or to sit on.
But, I thought the worst was over. Until James found on the Credit Card bill a $125 dollar charge for a product I use for work that I didn’t discuss it with him. And then the process began ALL over again. I realized why I was in this position, mind you. It’s because I didn’t discuss it with him on purpose. I didn’t hide it—I used our regular credit card, and figured he would see it some time, but something told me that he would make such an argument against paying over a hundred dollars for anything that it didn’t seem worth it to mention before the purchase.
This hurt James. He felt I did something “untrustworthy”, and he’s right. Why I didn’t think that I was going to get a spanking from it is beyond me. Or maybe I did know, and I thought it was worth it.
I’m getting to that stage where I forget occasionally how god-awful discipline spankings can be.
This time, he used the belt, but my memory had already come to me when he was pulling down my pants about how horrible the spanking was going to be. My body remembered before my mind—standing in the corner before the event, I slouched lowly as I heard him taking his belt out of the closet.
Now here’s an interesting note about the belt—I was scared of it. I mean, of course it hurt my bottom, but I was afraid that he was going to hit my vagina accidentally with it again, and THAT freaked me out! I kept on thinking how easy it would be, particularly given my position—on my back while he held my legs up high with one hand and was wielding the belt for another. I almost wish I had a metal thong that would protect my goods. Isn’t it funny how one bad experience can make me weary forever after?
Anyway, other than my spanking, (the second of which was so bad I couldn’t sit for the rest of the day. After the belting he focused on my “sit spot” and thighs), I meant to tell everyone that we’re going to see big changes coming up in ABCD Webmasters. Every site is going to get a fresh update?

All
of the sites?!
Yep—all of them. Have to. We’re moving to a new server that supports better software. We have 90 days from August 1st to get all the sites off one server and onto the better one. I’m excited about it, but it’s going to be a lot of hard work.
A few of the ones that will be updated are…

Bethany’s Woodshed (herwoodshed.com)
Romantic Spankings
Spanking Romance (yes—a second update in a year. The second will be easier to read.)
Story Archive (spankstories.com)
Spank Books
Spankings4mykindle.com
And 2 fully new sites
Isn’t it funny how 7 months ago I didn’t really know how to build a website, and now I maintain a slew of them and have to build a slew of them over the summer? Aye yay yai!

Why are you telling us about Bethany’s… Are you ADVERTISING?!
Yes. Sorry, it’s what I DO ALL DAY. And I don’t want to announce anything on the update blog until it’s been done, because I don’t know what problems I’ll have, and I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.
What I can’t get over is how damn lucky I am. How many people get to make spanking their work without having to bare their tush? Barely any women at all. I do my bliss….
By the way, I read a good Psychology Today article that gave me a good idea for a post. But you’ll get your ear-full AFTER the weddings, thank you very much!
Have a great July!
(Oct: 31: I know, I know. July. Sorry…)

…Albuquerque. It was quite nice. I loved it, actually—I might just move there in a year or two. New Mexico really is the scha-nizzle.
And you had no computer in Albuquerque?!

It was really busy! I work 16 hours a day rather commonly, and remember, I work for Blushing Publications (ABCD Webmasters) and so I work around spanking all day, every day. Which makes me exceptionally lucky, but unfortunately, lately, when I’ve had some spare time, I normally pursue non-spanking activities. But now I’m back, back and bringing you all my spanking thoughts. I actually had quite a few. I’ve done much more thinking about the blog than I have been doing the blog. Of course, it’s been that way all along!
In short, I’ve been doing more brain-work for this blog than work-work.
Why has work been so darn busy?

The Spanking Story Archive has been 2 years behind at one point. I had to bring them up to date—which I just finished this Sunday. And I also run Spanking Romance. AND I’ve had to get the new RomanticSpankings.com store up and running. And it’s REALLY buggy right now. I mean, still aesthetically pleasing at it works, but there’s a problem with the download-expiration and the fact that it asks for your credit card number twice and that the checkout page template is funky… Awe, man oh man, oh man. It’s been tough. I’ve also been helping out with covers lately. Also, our customer service had gotten behind and we had to let someone go, and I tried to help pick up the slack until the new customer service rep, Tia, got situated. Now, they told me to “Stop doing Customer Service!” Which… Is sad. L
How’s the Spanking Diet?

I’m in my mid-140s now, instead of mid 150s. Which is GREAT. But my spanking diet has been working differently than how it works for others. The “Spanking Diet” for ME consists of me working so much I forget to eat lunch. Or Breakfast… Or both. Works wonders! I have been working out pretty regularly, though—no escaping that. Food journal—out the window. I haven’t touched it since I left for Albuquerque. It’s HARD to maintain a food journal!
James and I decided that we needed a resolution—I want to get to my goal-weight. The Weight of my dreams—130. So, James’ job is if I don’t work out when he’s at work EVERY WEEK DAY—I get spanked. No ifs, ands, or butts. J But I’ve been REALLY good about it so far. No spankings yet! Not for that at least.
..No Spankings this Summer, you said?
I never said that. I meant I hadn’t gotten a spanking for not working out yet. I have been getting fewer spankings… I got a small one just last week for “swearing in church”. (Which is a crock. “Ass” is totally PG now.) James said I can’t say “ass” in front of…
1. The Elderly
2. Church
3. The Pastor
4. His boss
But… It’s PG! I mean, at one point, “Shoot” was bad. We need to fade in with the times. Who’s on my side?!

You know, people were getting worried…
I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Much, much better. I have my next post almost written, in fact. So keep posted!