Saturday, February 10, 2018

Timed Spankings

Sands of Time

 “Sands of time” is one of those truly beautiful phrases someone created. The image of sand falling, grain by grain, inexorably from one bulb to the other is a perfect metaphor for life itself. At least that is how I experience when I am writing or philosophizing. However, when that hourglass-shaped device is measuring the duration of a spanking it changes into something entirely unpoetic. It becomes demon-like – unstoppable and unforgiving. This essay is about the practice of timed spankings.

My wife and I had already been in a robust DWC relationship for many years when we met another couple (she was one of the most diligent disciplinarians I have met) and we learned that the wife used a mechanical kitchen timer when she administered punishment. I never discovered exactly how she determined what the length of a particular spanking should be. But I did find out, courtesy of her, what it was like to have something marking off the time of a spanking. It was infuriating how ridiculously slowly time seemed to move

Quite a few years passed until one day my wife just plunked a tiny sand timer down in front of me before a spanking. I was already in the position she wanted and it was not discussion time. That little three-minute timer was a fiendish reminder of the woman with the kitchen timer. “A measly three minutes” you think? If you every try it with a timer let me know that you think then. Three minutes of vigorous, uninterrupted bathbrushing left me very repentant and marked for almost two weeks.

Being on the receiving end, I really don’t know what the psychology is like for the disciplinarian. But my suspicion is that working against the clock pumps up something akin to competitive juices and it sure felt like she accelerated and amplified everything as it came closer to the end. Like that last big push right before the finish line.

We have a very inexpensive set of five little plastic timers in the kitchen. They are calibrated for; one, two, three, five, and ten minutes. I use them all the time for cooking and she knows exactly where to find them.

Timing of spankings is not a regular part of what she seems to prefer. But the little monsters show up every so often; again don’t ask me why. Maybe she thinks I need variety to keep things interesting. Or maybe she needs the variety. But knowing her, if I were to ask about it she would probably have some incredible reasoning that would blow my mind. Oh I am sure she would not mind in the least if I asked. But when I ask about things like that it brings them further to her attention and they “show up” more often.

Well, even though I have already used up enough of your “time” for today, since I began with references to poetry I will indulge myself. I deeply appreciate you taking a few moments to visit with me and I extend to you this good wish

“May the sands of time run gently through the hourglass of your life.”  Me

Saturday, January 20, 2018

Session at the School House

I just came from an unexpected follow-up to a conversation about “no more spanking” I had with Aunt Kay. I described it in my previous post. But in a nutshell; just in case you haven’t read the earlier one I’ll sum it up.  After more than twenty-five years in a DWC marriage I figured I had more or less out grown that kind of stuff and I thought we should move on from it. She didn’t even discuss it. She just said “NO!”

Things are great between us. And truth be told, I have been especially well behaved and dedicated to taking care of her. This afternoon she suggested that we would be having some fun later and from her innuendos I understood it would involve spanking. But I wasn’t really worried.

Well, it was fun for the most part. But now that the “fun” is over I am looking back and appreciating her “devious mind” and how lucky I am to have her. She surprised me by doing a role play. The last time we did role play was with another couple - well a long time ago. Today's role play began when I got a note that I was to report to the school Principal.(She was fabulously in her role, by the way.)

During the lecture she articulated why I was going to get punished. She explained to her dim-witted bad boy that sometimes you have to do things you don’t like because it’s part of keeping healthy. She pointed out that I go to the dentist, even though I know it will hurt, because it’s part of a healthy life routine. There was more to the lecture. But that was the part that is relevant to this post.

Once I was bent over an artistically designed pillow and blanket pile on the bed, the spanking began. The principal doesn’t have a great deal of time to waste. So she uses a razor Strop. Aunt Kay had to work creatively around certain limitations. But for sure my butt would never have known it. The Principal must have been morally outraged or something. Very energetic!

Afterwards I had to write “Spanking is Good for Me” many times filling two large whiteboards - and not allowed to write big. It almost drove me crazy. It was genuinely punishment.

Now that I have a moment after the action to think about it. Duh. I got the message. She wanted to be sure that the ship was righted again and that the crew (me) was ship-shape. I have a feeling I have not heard the last of this.

Well, that was a chance for me to share with the Blog in real-time. It’s the next best thing to being with another DWC couple or talking with one of my old DWC buddies.

Sunday, January 7, 2018

No More Spankings?

When we talked about what the New Year might hold for us, I broached the subject that maybe it was time to "move on past the spanking thing". I was serious about it. I really believe one needs to be open to change and it felt right.

Besides, without going into private details, Aunt Kay has an injury that definitely inhibits a lot of things. Plus we really don't seem to have the DWC friends within a viable geographic distance that we used to. I suppose I would not have even have thought to make such a suggestion if our DWC friends were around. (Something about knowing it's possible I might be sent to an Auntie or have a visit from one of them).

Anyway, my suggestion about putting the disciplinary aspect on the shelf was a very short conversation. It lasted about a minute and consisted of “No” and “Never”. So I’m going to consider that as a good thing. At this point in life I realize that she knows best.

Happy New Year to all of you who make my life richer by spending a few minutes with me once in a while.

Friday, October 27, 2017

A "Spanking You Will Never Forget."

A “Spanking You Will Never Forget”

Have you ever heard the phrase, “You are going to get a spanking you will never forget”? I know I have. For some reason it was a popular part of what parents used to say when I was growing up. When I think back and ask myself which spankings that I received as an adult really do fall into the category of “unforgettable” a handful come up. This little essay is about one in particular and I think you will enjoy reading about it.

During the early years when Aunt Kay and I got together our “social spanking life” was amazing. By that I mean we had quite a few spanking-oriented friends and did things with other couples; which often, like almost always, involved the men getting spanked.

It was during one of those little get-togethers that I experienced a hand spanking that I will truly “never forget”. Up until that day, I must admit that I thought of a spanking without an implement as more or less trivial. For the most part, I still do feel that way. But now I know that one can’t be sure of that.
We spent a lot of time in San Diego in those days and we used to go watch some women and men playing Beach Volleyball at a little place called Moonlight Beach. The women played in tiny bikinis and were athletically ripped; six-pack abs and all that.

Well, as it happened, we met a new F/m couple for dinner and it turned out the woman was one of those volleyball players. After dinner we went back to their place and of course spanking was on the agenda. Usually, for disciplinary spankings with others Aunt Kay preferred to take the hubby into one room for a session and for me to go with the wife into different one.

But this time it was all together in the living room. Well, when Gayle beckoned me over her knee and there were no implements in sight, I expected a not-very-severe experience. I completely missed two things. One was that Gayle’s highly competitive nature caused her to put everything into the session since she was doing it right in front of Aunt Kay. The other was that her hands were calloused from the volleyball.

If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn she was using a stout paddle. I also vividly recall that she had me so thoroughly restrained over her knee that I really felt helpless and fully under her control. No “cooperative role play” she owned my butt.

I was black and blue for a long time after that; more so than almost any other spankings I had ever received. Well, except for the time Aunt Kay and I visited a dungeon in Toronto during a holiday. It was actually closed. But the one person there was very generous. She let us have the run of the place and said have a good time. So of course Aunt Kay had to try out everything. That was the only time I can recall being more black and blue than from Gayle.

So that hand spanking was one I’ll never forget.

By the way, I have a birthday spanking on the calendar coming VERY soon.

Monday, September 11, 2017

Aunt Kay's Little Purse Strap

Aunt Kay’s Little Purse Strap

I have to admit that I will probably never achieve the thing they call “wisdom” with regard to the DWC part of my life. I seem to just blunder into circumstances that get me in trouble. Sometimes it’s based on unconsciously pushing limits, and um, sometimes it’s caused by my consciously pushing them.

And then there are what I can only all incidents of gross misjudgment – miscalculation. And that’s what this installment is about. We were to dinner with several completely vanilla friends at an Italian restaurant. Everyone was having a great time. There was some wine. But no one, including me, was overindulging.

But, I guess it still had the effect of loosening my tongue because I blurted out a “joke” that in retrospect wasn’t all that funny. It came out sounding like I was making fun of my wife. I did not mean it in the way it came out. But it hung there in a stony silence for what felt like a half hour.  I know it was really only seconds. But there was an interruption in the level of buzzing conversation. And I definitely got a few odd looks. And then the camaraderie resumed and all seemed well.

Several minutes later, after the incident was hopefully forgotten by all, my wife asked to borrow the keys to another couple’s van. I didn’t hear why she said she wanted it. But it was no big thing to anyone. Then she said, for my ears only, “I have something to talk with you about.” I knew it was my “joke.”

In the parking lot, as we approached the van, she indicated the leather strap on her purse and said that was what I was going to get. She had that purse for a few years and in all that time I never equated it in any way with spanking implements. You know how some implements just seem to seize your attention and you can’t escape them? Like if THE hairbrush is left easily visible. Or for me, I just can’t take a shower without looking sideways at the stupid long-handled bath brush. Well her purse never, ever, had any of that.

In fact, when I looked at it I thought she must be kidding me and I said so. That was the part where I unconsciously antagonized her. I said something about that little piece of leather being kind of silly – something like that. And if you saw it, you would probably have agreed.

Once we were in the van, and I was positioned where she wanted me, I discovered that her “silly little purse strap” had a truly nasty sting to it. She originally got the purse at a western tack shop and I guess someone designed it for durability. It was a piece of latigo leather and it was super broken in from the years of use. Well, when we got home I took a look and damn if there weren’t some welts there.

The slip of bad judgment in making a dumb joke was one thing. But my “gross misjudgment – miscalculation” came in when I cavalierly made fun of her “little purse strap.