How Would I Spank You?

When you asked me to do this, I consented to help you accomplish your goals. Before one shred of clothing was tossed, days of conversation were had. What are your limits, what are your boundaries, this was to be discipline only. What is your safe word? Then we begin.

You say “I am so sorry.”

Make no mistake. I am an older man of experience, style and confidence. When you came to me and told me you made a mistake, I was disappointed. And I let you know it, feel it.

I let you look at the floor in discomfort and shame. I paced around you, silent, just looking at you with a look of discontent on my face.

“Go stand in the corner and think about what you did.” I say. Am I upset? No. She did not fail me. I never yell. Control is the agreement. I know what she likes, what she can take and what her hard limits are. She is in complete control of the situation. All I need to hear is one word from her lips and scene is over.

She stands and thinks for ten minutes. When I return, I sit on the bed and ask her to come to me. I bring her close. As I gaze into her eyes, she looks away and says, “Are you going to spank me for this?”

I respond, “ Did you break the rules?” She again looks disturbed as she nodded her head. “Do you deserve this?” I ask.
She again looked at me as she nodded silently.

I take her by the hand and slowly, direct her to stand before me. I look up into her face as I unbutton her jeans and quickly take them to her ankles. I purposefully redirected her to my right and exerted pressure on her back asking her body to bend over my lap. She extended her hands and placed them on the floor.

She bit her own lip and looked back at me with a mixture of anticipation, excitement and apprehension. Oh, that look. A look I have seen a hundred times before but every time I see it, is like the first time.

I inhaled deeply, taking in her mixture of perfume and her musk which told me just how moist she must be.

“ Why are we here?” I ask. “I broke the rules.” She says. She remained silent as she awaited her fate. She both hated and loved this anticipatory time between communication and execution.

I reached back and with two hands and slowly took down her panties for her. As her panties hovered at her knees, I wasted no time and began assailing her back side with a hand spanking. Slow at first and not hard. After a few minutes, I picked up the pace and made each swat progressively harder, just like she wants it. Each swat bring her closer and closer to the place she loves to be, sub space. The place where pleasure is mixed with pain.

Sometimes I recount the misjudgement if I feel she wants the feeling of reliving failing herself. It’s not my rule. It is her rule. The rule she has made for herself and asked me to enforce for her. She has asked me to set up the consequence to reinforce the incorrectness of the behavior.

She has the power. The power to submit or the power to stop everything immediately with one word, “Red”. I have never heard it. I know her limits. I know if what I have done lives up to the expectation and the request of me.

When we are through, the aftercare begins. The repair of the emotional and the physical. I hold her in my arms for a long time. Sometimes she breathes deeply and other times, she finishes with deep, heaving sobs. She always wraps her arms around me and burries her face in my shoulder. This is the kind of emotional release she craves.

She forgives herself as I forgive her. It is done. It is forgiven and forgotten. Until next time…

I wanna play

This story is fiction. There is a little spanking, a little sex, a little forced play. So if that triggers you, keep going

We walked into the house and it was on! The scene was set by one look. It’s the look, that look that says, “ I want to play!” She never actually verbalized that. It is a look in her eyes and a devious smile on her lips.

Our dynamic is different than any other I have seen. We are equals. There is no D/s going on. I like to spank and she likes to be spanked. We mix a little sex in there and that’s about it. When we play, we play and when we don’t, we don’t.

I grabbed her by her hair and roughly pulled her head back so she is off balance and able to hear every word I growl into her ear. “Slut, Strip!”
As I release the scruff of hair I held her with, she looked at me with disgust and smiled as she took off her clothes.

I took my belt from its loops and she knew what to do. We had been here before many times. I knew what she needed and she knew what I needed. I watch her crawl into the bed and lay on the mattress face down.

Without hesitation I began to slash at her body with the leather and she winced with every impact. The beads of sweat from her beautiful body began to run.

The pain mounted and her flesh began to redden. I dropped the belt. I stripped, she looked behind herself and saw how excited I was. I grabbed her hair and my member slipped between her beautiful cherry lips and down her throat. It looked like she found it hard to breathe and my member continued to stab her throat.

She coughed and tried to cry out and grab my hip in distress as each breath she took looked like her last. I pulled out of her mouth and heard “Thank you Daddy.” She immediately said that ,as she drew in a long breath and removed her lips from my cock. There was no doubt she was enjoying herself as she had asked for it in the past.

We continued the back and forth of me giving her punishments and she taking them. Smiles danced across her lips as she continued to verbally taunt me to push farther and farther with her teases. I hand spanked her crimson red ass from time to time.

“ Is that all you’ve got?”, she said, just to let me know she could go farther.
“My little sister can hit harder than that” , she continued. Her brat came out in full force as she continued to brat herself into a full on punishment. It made me see red internally but I remained calm, composed and in control. I beat her ass red one last time with my belt and and drop it to the floor.

I reached for my bag and grabbed the one implement she despised. A small, thickly cut, wooden, short handled paddle. She gazed at it then look back at me with narrowed eyes and disgust. She began to get off of her stomach before she knew it I reached for her, grabbed her by the neck and threw her back on the bed again. This time I applied weight and pressure to her. She wasn’t going anywhere.

I began the fast pased barrage on her bottom and quickly her brat attitude changed to a slightly less flippant, more compliant position. She looked at me out of the corner of your eye as our eyes met. I saw a pleading look come across her face. The pain and impacts were doing their job.

I checked in with her. I stopped momentarily to look at her bottom for open wounds and her emotion. She hadn’t said anything and all I heard from her were winces of pain. I thought she might start to cry but she had been unsuccessfully trying to get away from me. I pulled her from her face down position to over my lap. I could control your body movements much better in this position.

I began again with the paddle. She started to cry, yell and scream in pain. I could see her approaching her pain threshold. Tears were running down her face. Her makeup that was done so nicely when she arrived was now a quagmire of black lines directed by the sweat and tears running top to bottom . I had wondered if she would safeword me soon when I heard her squeak out the word “Yellow”. Ah there it was. She needs to slow. This is too much for her. I checked in again and decide this is it. She had hit her wall.

I dropped the paddle on the floor and changed her position to sitting in my lap. Her legs dangled over the side of my legs. I held her, consoled her and said “shhhhh”. “Everything is alright.” “ All is forgiven.”

She needed these things to come down again. She needed to hear my voice, my forgiveness. She needed to know I am not angry. I am never angry with her but her upbringing required that of me. So I provided it. “You are ok, Little girl.” “It’s ok, Baby.” “Shhhhhh”.

I already had a basin of hot water nearby, washcloths, towels, food and water bottles. I provided it all. What ever she needed. And I held her, and held her until she came all the way down. She could stand on her own and could help me dress her and return her to who she was when she walked in here before.

She liked me to give her oral sex immediately after a spanking so I laid her on the bed on her back and her softly, very carefully, I affectionately orally serviced her. This is what she needed. And I was more than happy to oblige. I love giving oral. After she came, and it didn’t take long, I sat her up, got her into the shower with me and washed her down before I got her dressed. I dressed with her and we went and got something to eat.

As we traversed the stairs from the bedroom, from behind, I heard, “Thank you, Daddy.”


— Read on

Thanks to Perfected and Princess Kelly May for passing on this very important information. The video is about safety and where to spank a bottom. This is information I knew but didn’t know before researching safety and how a proper spanking is to be done years ago. Thanks again folks.

The Arrangement

Possible trigger. Please be warned.

I arrived just after midnight. She, the true beauty I was meeting that night, she , dressed in her white satin neglige and partially covered by her sheet. She was absolutely beautiful as she slept. I easily broke in and only stood there in the doorway a few minutes and watched. But watching was not why I was there.


Sarah and I had prearranged everything that was to happen earlier in that day. Everything was a plan of her design. I was simply it’s executioner. I dropped my duffel bag on the floor and placed my gloved clad hands over her mouth and around her throat and squeezed. The lack of blood flow and oxygen to the brain woke her with a start and a momentary look of extreme concern in her eyes. She was breathing erratically and looking around the room.

I flipped her over into her stomach in a quick fluid motion, attached the zip ties to the hands behind her back and one to her ankles. I slung the bandana around her mouth so she could not scream. She assured me earlier she was a screamer. I didn’t want to have to explain any of this to anyone else.

Sarah looked at me as she struggled and tried to get free, but to no avail. The more she struggled, the tighter her restraints became. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. Sweat spilled from her pours, tears ran from her eyes and for the first time a look of lust and enjoyment appeared on her face. She knew who I was. But she knew what she and I agreed to do. This would be a very long but enjoyable night for her. And she knew it.

I leaned down and kissed her on the side of her head. Pushing her down, exerting pressure on the shoulders.

My hands went to her neckline and tore the beautiful neglige Sarah was wearing, torn to her waistline. Her back was beautiful. Her skin, as silky as the night gown that only now, partially covered it. The gag I quickly applied came down allowing her to breathe more easily and speak. “What are you going to do?” Sarah said in a shiver. “Don’t be afraid, little one. I won’t hurt you, much.” I said with a little chuckle.

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I began kissing down to her neck. Sarah closed her eyes and breathed in deep through her nose, as if she was breathing in the sweetest of perfumes. I continued down the back of her to her attend, the arms holding down at her request. She wanted to feel a sense of helplessness. She wanted to feel like she was at my whim. She gave me the power to make her feel so innocent, so virginal in so many ways. She was embarrassed to be bare and yet, her personal perfume filled my nostrils. I released her arms and layer my hands on her back and slid them all the way down her back to her bottom. I ripped the rest of her night gown off of her revealing her beautiful buxom bottom. I ran my hands up and down her globes and buried my fave, mouth and lips between her legs.

I flipped her back onto her back do so had better access to her folds. I reached down, grasped the tie that restrained her ankles and brought her heels up toward her peach. “ I can eat a peach for hours, you know that.” I proclaimed.

With that statement I searched her layers with my tongue, lips and fingers. She arched her back and drew in a long splendid breath enjoying my touches and coming almost immediately. She gushed with vaginal fluids and basically squirt all over the mattress. I spanked her clit and went back in with three fingers opening her up as she drew in another deep breath.

She was so excited. I continued to assault her vagina with my fingers and after a few minutes I added the fourth, the end result, my entire fist. She shuddered again, soaking my hand and wetting the bed once again. I pulled my hand out and after sufficiently making her acquiesce, it was time for a little care.

I untied her, and picked her up and placed her in my lap. I held her with severe intensity as she grasped and her body begged for my affections. I kissed her every inch from head to toe. I made her feel every bit of the voluptuous woman she knew she could be.

Tonight was about her. It was I who would make tonight a memory, a delicious and naughty thought that she would recall when she was aroused. When she was in the throes of passion. It would be hers to play with when by herself and stealing a moment of solitary romance.

“Did you enjoy yourself? Did I satisfy you?” I asked. “Yes” she replied. “Only one request.” She said. “Next time, while I am face down, will you please redden my ass?” She asked.

“Of coarse.” I replied. “You have been such a good girl lately.” “It didn’t feel right, today.” I said. She replied with a nod in agreement. We embraced and I left.

Mild Depression

I have been in a depressive mood for three or four weeks now. It has little to do with anything I know of. I wake up in this mood, it goes away slightly when I would work because I am distracted. But when I came home, and distraction goes away, the depression comes back.

There’s no reason!

So I try and write in this state and nothing I put on paper is sufficient for my purposes. I haven’t dealt with this in years. I usually pop a pill and it stays at bay. I just want to break down. It’s that bad. But I can’t do that at work. I can’t do that in front of my family. I can’t just cry for no reason in public. That’s not what men do. Right?

So I lean on my wife. I talk to her and it does help a little. This is four weeks now. She needs my help so I have to operate as a husband and as a father nonetheless.

She doesn’t know what to do. She pats my shoulder and hope it passes. It waxes and wanes. Comes and goes. And it sucks. So when this passes, I’ll be back here. I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade and I definitely don’t want to make anyone else feel like they need to help. It’ll pass. Like it used to.

An Act of Contrition

She slowly walked into the bedroom where I sat and read. She slowly circled the bed with a sullen look on her face. “What’s up?” I thought as I pretended not to notice her strange demeanor. She was penitent, remorseful, sullen.

I paid the attention she was all but begging for. “ Hi.”, she said as she stood there, motionless.

She started to take her clothes off and that’s when she said it. “I have to confess something to you.”

The initial statement put me on edge, uneasy, almost afraid of what she was going to say as she is an incredibly attractive woman. She knows this as I and other men tell her all the time in one way or another.

“Ok.” I say preparing myself for the worst. I say it almost as a question noticing she is still taking off her clothes. I expected her to tell me she had an affair, spent lots of money again or something like that. “Tell me what happened” I said and patted the bed encouraging her to sit and chat. She looked at me with puppy dog eyes, at this point completely nude, tears started to well. It was obvious she felt tremendous regret and shame. She was acting incredibly guilty. Why, I did not know, but that was her demeanor.

I realized where this was going. In the past my wife came to me with an event that she felt incredibly guilty about. She needed immediate clemency and absolution which, at the time, to me, the crime was minor and did not warranted anything other than the talk we had. She had spent $2500 on a patio set. I understood. From the beginning we agreed that if one or the other wanted to spend over a certain amount, we would talk about it. I have a budget, I pay the bills. So obviously, at the time, we had extra. I wasn’t upset but she anticipated my displeasure over the expense.

When I reacted with amnesty and grace. But, then, that did not serve to abate my loving wife’s indiscretion. “Will you stabd up?”, she asked So internally, it was a hearted suggestion. Externally, I was stern, unforgiving and final. I told her to take her clothes off and lean over the bed for her first marital spanking.

She went through an emotional journey. At first, defiance and indignation. She was a grown woman. No man was going to lay hands on her least of all her loving husband, right? Then came the compromise. She was so cute. She tried to haggle with sexual favors. I was unmoved. I told her this was the only was she was going to learn. “ How do I know you won’t do this again?” I asked.
Acceptance and resignation was the last step. She saw there was no room for concession or negotiation. “I am your husband. This is my decision.” I said. Outwardly, I showed no movement. Internally, I was questioning myself and my decision. I was half playing but a smile did not come across my lips for a second.

I could see the fall of her defense. Her body language spoke all she wanted to say. She slowly began to undress. She did not look at me. I thought she was upset with me and might call out her safe word when we began. But so be it. I have done my part. It is up to her to to go through with it if she wants to or not.

She lay across our king sized mattress, he body bared for me to punish. At the time right up until I saw her drape her body across our bed, I didn’t think she would go through with it. I was excited. My breaths short and fast. As I slid my belt from my belt loops this time and took stance behind her, I began to sweat.

I swung my belt.


She turned her head away from me. I couldn’t see her face or the reaction other than the tenseness of her frame and the fists she made in pain.


I was hard. This excited me more than I thought it might. I thought I would be unable to give my dear wife the punishment she desired.


This went on for an hour before she broke in tears and I understood this act of contrition had gone to the core of her being and bruised more than her bare bottom. As the colors turned from the pink like her lips to the very bright and almost glowing red, she broke down and cried. It was then I knew she had had enough.

I dropped the belt, went to her and scooped her up like a ragdoll and held her in my lap as the cries in pain turned to the sobs of forgiveness she so desperately craved.

As I said, a rather large price to pay for such a small indiscretion. Had she asked, I would have given it to her. But to her, that was not the point. She had gone behind my back and done it without discussing it with me. The figure had no value to her.

She had gone to the bathroom to clean up. She washed her face and through the crack in the door, I caught her looking in the mirror at the damage to her freshly spanked fanny. I had to chuckle as I continued cleaning up myself.

I opened the bathroom door and stood behind her and just marveled at the beauty I beheld. I held her from behind and all she said, “Thank you. I love you.”

I just smiled at her in return. So that was then.

We are back in present time with my wife as she sat next to me completely naked, squirming and looking at me with that look again. “Just tell me what you need.” I said. “I need you to spank me, Paul.”
There is was. My wife needed that. It wasn’t something she wanted or thought might be cute. She needed that physical attention like she need food and water. Her body needed me to spank her.

“Ok. Go in the dining room, stand in the corner and wait for me.” I said with as stern and monotone a voice I could muster. She was already resigned. She had wanted this a long time but I did not recognize it. My wife, from time to time, needs to be spanked, really truly spanked to tears. I knew her job had caused lots of stress to her this week.

I went to my sock drawer, pulled out my leather belt, and went into the dining room. I positioned her on the corner of the dining room table. I knew she would be supported and if so inclined would be able to place pressure on her own clit with the corner of the table. I thought she might like that.

Very few words were spoken as I knew this was maintenance. The bruises from the first session had all gone and a fresh canvas was before me. I placed the belt on her back just above her coccyx and told her not to drop it.

This time, I lead with a hand spanking, slow at first and increased with speed and intensity. Her bottomed reddened quite quickly. That was followed by the belt and finished with the bath brush she didn’t see me grab before entering the dining room. She had fear in her eyes before the brush. By then, she was almost to her limit. But not quite. By the time I had finished with ten seats with the bath brush she was sobbing and had had quite enough then.

Again, like before, I scooped her up into my arms, cradled her and consoled her with all of the penance I could muster. The goal here was to make her feel while, complete, loved and satiated.

When she calmed down, I dot her a cool compress. I took care of her. I had to console myself in that this was her decision and I was helping her. Obviously
I had done some reading and it is said those that reach the pinnacle reach a place called subspace. I think I reached that myself, but I wasn’t sure. All I knew is that this was fun. And as long as Nora was having fun too, this may be part of our routine. We will have to do some more talking about this. Communication, I have decided, was a huge part of it.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” I asked Nora.
She smiled and as she sat, she winced. She shook her head and said, “very much.”

God I love her. I would do just about anything for her and if this makes her happy, then so be it. Let’s make the most of it. We read together about different facets. We read different authors, books, articles. We joined a few websites and groups of people. I already had a FetLife account and was mildly knowledgeable about the different types of bdsm. But I think we would stick with the spanking portion.

We met some outstanding people there and have made some plans to go to a couple events. We have never been closer. She tells me everything when in the past I always thought there was a part of her she reserved. There are no reservations now and my accounting for it only leads me to think the newish part of our relationship has something to do with it. I hope it does.

Sixth Sense


When I was little, my mother, my father and two siblings lived in a century old home in the heart of coal country, Pennsylvania. It was the early seventies when we moved in. My Mother stayed at home with us while we were young. She got a job as a legal secretary shortly after. My father went to work for the railroad. The house was half of a duplex. When you entered the home, there was a small seating area which lead to a hallway leading into a kitchen to the rear of the home. Naturally, we spent a lot of our time in the kitchen eating, cleaning or just spending time together.

From the bottom of the stairs that landed in the kitchen, you could see up the stairs to the second floor. To the left, a bathroom and the master bedroom. To the right, two smaller bedrooms. My brother shared a bedroom and my sister had the nursery, which later was turned into her bedroom.

My high chair, before my sister arrived was positioned next to the rear door of the home in the kitchen. From my high chair, I could see the landing and the tip of the staircase. I can not honestly remember whether these memories I have are impressions from my parents or if they are real memories.


We were not alone. My parents, my baby brother and I lived with a spirit, a ghost. I do not know who he was. My parents did not know who he was. My mother saw him. And I do not know if my father actually saw him or if he just went along with my mothers version of events.

My memory is of an elderly gentleman dressed in dress slacks, a white button down and a long tie. He wouldn’t say anything and if engaged would look at you. But he liked to walk across the top of the stairway while we were eating and gathering in the kitchen downstairs. I remember this happening occurring several times, more that several times.

When we moved out of that house in ‘79, it never happened again. We moved into another duplex but this one, newly built on newly developed corn fiends in a suburb of Allentown, PA.

All during my growing up and all during my young adulthood, I never saw another ghost.

My Mother died in 2016. She had died of cancer. She had at least two, possibly three types of cancer during the last ten years of her life. She had several surgeries to combat and used natural medicine to combat it during the last three. As I said, she fell to cancer in 2016. After she died, I took over the payments for my mothers car. It was new, we needed one. It didn’t seem right just to let it go. So I took it home, parked it in the driveway and that became my wife’s new car.

It was close to Christmas on a weekend in 2016. I was off. So was my wife. It was early in the day. It was a warm afternoon in December. I crossed in front of the car which was parked facing the garage.

When I returned walking toward the front door and recrossed in front of “Mom’s car”, I looked into the car. I saw her. The likeness of my mother, deceased two months prior was sitting in the the passenger seat of her own car. I could not believe my senses. She was seated like anyone in the passenger seat but she was looking up the street. Her “body” was facing the front of the car but she was looking out the side window. She looked at me and then she turn her head and looked back down the street again. She said nothing.

My wife, my siblings all had remarked I had not cried since Mom had died. I consoled them all in their grief and even at the memorial service we had at the church and later at the burial, for me, no tears were shed. Not until she visited me. When I saw her likeness, I lost my emotions. Tears flowed and I can not remember ever being so upset in my life since or before.

When my mother was alive, my brother and I and even my sister consented that she was the baby in the family and the favorite to them both.

When I told my brother and my sister of my mother’s spiritual visit, both responded in the most peculiar way. Both were still grieving, particularly my sister as she had an uncommonly close relationship with Mom.

They both responded in jealousy. As if to say, “why you?” I am the oldest and Mom had a special place in her heart for all of us. I can understand their reaction.

In the days to follow, I spoke out load to her as if she could hear me. I asked her not to visit me anymore as it was just too painful to see her in the body when my mind tells me I am not seeing what I knew I was seeing. To understand that we would have to open up the can of worms labeled “Catholic upbringing” and I have put all of that away. We aren’t going to crack it open here. Just suffice to say, I do not enjoy this “sixth sense” my mother has passed onto me. She could know things. Things she had no way of knowing about her kids, me included. She was touched with many gifts. She was highly intelligent. She saw the man at the top of the stairs. We talked about it while she lived.

Believe or don’t believe. I have never told anyone except those closest to me and to date, has not happened again.

2016 Deborah Jordan

You’d think I’d be used to not having her and most days it’s ok. But this day is the hardest. Constant reminders all day that she is gone. It really sucks.


She appeared again. It was later one night I’m August when I was in my bathroom just finishing up my shower. I have a clear glass shower door. I had just turned the water off and grabbed the door to get out when, all I can call it is, a spectral light hovering over my garden tub. It hovered a minute or so then it was gone. What was it? I don’t know. My mind is open to any possibility.

May the fourth

Photo credit to Geeks Diane Nivins

I was inspired by a fellow blogger to put out a post and if you are a Star Wars fan or you are a “Trekie” please tell me who your favorite character of all time? I know, how can you just nail it down to one, right? As a kid, and as a Star Wars fan, there was only one answer for me. Obviously.

Photo credit to Geeks and Diane Nevins

But as an adult there are multiple answers to this question as George Lucas in his ultimate wisdom has expanded the power to women and men of all different ages and species. Bravo George.

Rey, of coarse.

Older and wiser Princess Leah

Analysts Holdo

Cara Dune from Mandalorian

Jyn Erso, the scientist behind the Death Star

Padme from the earlier movies

Captain Phasma, I’d love to see what is under that hard exterior.

And the intellect of MaZ Kanata. She’s old but still very flirty and sexy.
This list is not in respect to the cartoon characters released by Disney and Lucas Films.

GEeks Diane Nivins

An honorable mention is L3. She was written as a female and has an interesting relationship to Lando. She also frees all of the droids in Solo. So I vacillated mentioning her. But I agreed with Diane Nivins as she also mentioned her in her write up. I also agreed she had a very courageous character.

So there they are. As an older , wiser Star Wars fan, I am attracted to wisdom, intelligence and even a little power.

If you need reference material to see who these characters are, links have been provided below.

Check out the link and see if there were any missing. I can only think of one. Rose Tico from the Last Jedi episode eight. I think they could have done so much more with her character than they did. But in her own right has a little bit of a sexy potential.

Photo credit goes to Diane Nivins

At any rate, these are all of my picks for the sexiest of sexy in the Star Wars series. Let me know what you think.


Happy Easter

I, like many other absent bloggers out there have had issues with inspiration.

Where do we derive our inspiration from? Well that is a very personal answer, isn’t it? I have never sat down and thought about from where the drive to write comes from except to answer from within.

What ever faucet that has been running full blast through the end of 2020 and into the first quarter for me has very much slowed down.

Even to finish this blog post on this Easter Sunday is arduous and almost like a chore. I know it should not be that way.

It almost doesn’t seem like Easter to me. My wife and half of my children are out of town and as I wait for daughter #3 to prepare her teen full look, I post on this fine Florida morning. This was the first time I did all of the shopping and preparing for the Easter Bunny. I felt like an amateur when I have been a father and doing Easters for twenty two years now.

Oh well, I hope all is well with you. I hope everyone is heathy and I hope everyone at least for a little while today can be reflective if not prayerful and remember why we celebrate this very joyous of holidays.

Peace be with you.


Why Now?

There are so many different things I have learned through the years. From the time I was a teen to the age I am now.

People are the product of their environment. People are what they eat. People are a reflection of their parents. Are these things true? Or are we the product of the many things we have read and the experience we have collected along the way?

Mary Jo Kreitzer, RN, PhD says,

  1. The environment can facilitate or discourage interactions among people (and the subsequent benefits of social support). For example, an inviting space with comfortable chairs and privacy can encourage a family to stay and visit with a patient.
  2. The environment can influence peoples’ behavior and motivation to act. For example, a dingy corridor filled with extra hospital equipment will invite staff to leave another item in the hall, whereas a clean corridor and adequate storage will encourage staff to take the time to put the item away.
  3. The environment can influence mood. For example, the results of several research studies reveal that rooms with bright light, both natural and artificial, can improve health outcomes such as depression, agitation, and sleep.

These noted behaviors are examples of who we are and how we react to certaion situations.

If that is the case and I was not exposed to this lifestyle, why then is there an incessant need to write about a subject I have only read about?

This was not my experience as a young man or nor have I seen it growing up.

Now there are theories that this is the result of my parents’ disciplinary policies. But I was not abused. I was not beaten daily. Now Mon was one to pick up whatever was nearby, but that was only in my younger years.

As I grew into my early teen years and got faster taller and stronger, obviously it stopped. But there were no paddles on the wall, no straps looking at me in the kitchen. There was no program, just discipline like every other kid on the block in the 80s. So why and why realizing it now that I am in my later years, after children, marriage and nearly retirement. I mean really?

So these are the questions rolling around in my head these says.

Jillian Keenan says this group is the only clan of people that use spanking as both punishment and reward. The debates rage on. The relationship between misogyny and hetero normativity. How many types of spanking are there? Punishment, punishment, good girl, erotic maintenance, power exchange, stress relief, and just for fun.

The opportunity to learn the dynamic from a professional dom was not mine to enjoy. All the doms I have ever met I have known only online. The dynamic was explained to me through the internet. I am still in the dark. I am friends with more subs than Doms, that I know of. I am still one of those guys that have come out to the people who read my blog and my wife, who is as vanilla as a jello pudding pop, a God love her. But sometimes I look at her ass and the conditions are so right, like today, I just want to wail on it so bad and watch it turn from pink to red.

Why now??!!