Creative Spanko Wench Blog

I’m taking this day with many other bloggers out of respect.

I’m just fine. 

Love

patty

Here is a reader’s write story that I have illustrated.  See if you can guess who wrote it?  and no it was not me or John. 

(Note:  The themes in this story are strong. Not all spankos or those into DD without D/s will find it to their tastes, but it’s my hope you’ll appreciate the brave self exploration of needs and desires.  Hope ya like my drawing too.) 

Down Lost Road
©Taz, 2007
 Hello old friend;
I hope things are going well out there in Seattle for you. I remember it very vividly, because it is such a beautiful town. I remember the look in your eyes when we went downstairs and you asked me about the room with the lock on the door. When I started to explain it to you, then the girls came downstairs and we were cut off, but I could clearly see your interest. I’m writing you today to explain a few things that I had no time to, the other day.
Your best friend is “one of those” people, and I have no shame about it. One thing I’ve learned in this life is that there is no time for shame. I wasted fifteen years of my life with my ex-wife, as did you with yours. That room in my basement is the culmination of finding a kindred soul in Jenny. She feels as I do that there are poisonous resentments that creep their way into every corner of our lives and, if they are left unattended to, destroy what could be the greatest love of our lives.
I was about to explain to you that first experience that sent me down that path when we were interrupted. I hope you wanted to hear the rest of the story, because here it is:
My ex decided after the kids were both in school that she needed a job to elevate her self-worth and I was all for it. She never seemed to hang on to a job very long and it made extra money for us. At one point, however, her employers saw something in her that brought about her promotion. This was all well and good with me and I encouraged her because I saw it as no challenge to me personally but rather, a boon to her self-esteem. I told her in no uncertain terms, however, that family is first. I would surely grab the clothes and put them in the laundry or make dinner myself on some occasions, but I also knew her pretty well. I worried that she would not be able to keep her priorities straight. This turned out to be well founded.
Natalie was just into high school and in that time frame where her own self-esteem could be crushed in a light fell swoop. She came home on yet another Friday and acted very edgy and nervous. When I asked her what the problem was, she told me that Mom had promised to be home to take her to the dance and to chaperone that night and all the chaperones were to be there by six pm.
Needless to say that by this point, my warning had gone unheeded. My ex has always been a very headstrong woman and as the late hours were increasing on her job, she continued to insist that her priorities were just fine and that maybe I shouldn’t be so “clingy”. I grit my teeth and thought that possibly the thing to do was to give her some space, but I won’t lie to you. Right then and there, I wanted to yank her up against my chest and tell her that I was still the man of the house and I don’t just talk to hear myself.
A side note: For years I have had these two sides of myself. One is the caveman variety, and one is the everyday man. The caveman likes his sex dirty and rough(.I have to qualify this here: By “rough” I mean the hair pulling, sweaty, ramming it to her, take it from behind like the bitch you are, kind of “rough”. It’s never okay to force a woman who isn’t into this) Therein laid the first trouble of my first marriage. She loved rough six’s just resented it the next day.
Part of this is the confusion of her own soul. She loved a “real man.” Now, when the good part was over, she fought the submissive half of herself. She hadn’t learned that because things are “this way” in the privacy of our own home that does not mean I will drag her off by the hair when we are out in public if I should choose to do so. She hadn’t learned that her value as a woman does not decrease as a submissive, but actually is elevated
NOW, on to our story…
The phone rang. Of course it was two hours later than she was supposed to be home. There she was, a little bit lit and promising to be home in time for the dance and to take Natalie as she promised. I told her that she didn’t need to be drinking and then driving home and THEN driving our daughter to a dance. She of course laughed all this off, pooh-pooh, you know nothing, etc .I told her I was on my way to get her ass and come home. I hung up the phone. I didn’t wait for a reply. That was probably my own mistake.
You might have guessed that the time flew ever onward like the winged feet of Mercury and you might be quite correct.
So, needless to say I took one tearful teenage girl to the dance, our younger son to my brother-in-law’s house where he could play with his little cousin and set out for town to have a “discussion” with her. If only I could relate to you the feeling I had, driving the back roads to get to town, and cursing myself for being so “weak” that I allowed this to happen to my own family. Then, even better, if I could relate to you the rage I felt, the absolute and complete rage, when I saw her vehicle halfway in my lane rounding that curve near Martin road.
I swung the truck in a U-turn and pursued but she just stuck her hand out the window and waved like” Here I am,,, I’m comin, ya old fart!”  I pulled up alongside and pointed to the side of the road.” PULL THE HELL OVER!” Maybe what I said was a little rougher than that; I refuse to answer any more on the grounds which I may incriminate myself……
For the first time in a longtime, I saw her face go pale. I had never struck my ex before but I think she thought that maybe this might be a first. When she pulled over I was out of my car, threw open her door and grabbed her hand to pull her out of the seat. Let’s just say that the presence of alcohol could be detected on her breath.
Without a word, I brought her by my grip on her upper arm, on her toes, all the way to my truck. I put her in the passenger seat. Nearly slammed the door off the hinges, and rounded the car to get in the driver’s seat. Of course, you know the ex, and her mouth started yammering. Yammering about her rights and freedoms as an American individual to get shit-faced drunk if she should choose, and to laugh and act like a teenager with her working girlfriends and I was just an American ogre for not letting her drive when she was perfectly capable. Then she announced that she had to pee…..and pee very soon.
You know that stretch of back road between the house and town. A dirt road here and a dirt road there, off to the left and the right. When I looked up after she announced that her bladder had gone to Defcon 5,there in Technicolor I saw the sign which read” Lost Rd.”
Lost road huh? Perfect, I thought.
Lost road was as advertised. Not a house, not a soul. I think maybe even the wolves were scared of going down Lost road without packing something. I found a suitable spot with lots of trees and pulled to the edge of the dirt road. She bounded out of the car, already fumbling with her zipper so she could run commute with nature without staining those jeans she valued so much. She liked the way they framed her ass. As I watched her stumble off, so did I.I took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the truck.
She was in “mid-pee” when she saw my eyes and she knew. She knew just as surely as someone had shown her the truth in a history book somewhere. Her mouth, no longer yammering, began to open and close like a fish lying on a dock waiting for the filet knife.
When she finished I already had her by the arm and was yanking her over my knee. As luck would have it, her pants were already down and I didn’t need to bother with that ritual. Sneaky of me, huh? Among protests, threats and a struggle worthy of a wildcat, I secured her legs by draping my right one over both of hers at the knee and when she swatted her hand ineffectually at my own, I placed it up between her shoulder blades and began whacking, hard and fast.
I gave her a word for each whack. Each word being part of a sentence containing some rules we were going to come to an understanding about out here on Lost Rd.
“You-will-start-putting-your-family-first-again-,Missy.-You -will-start-being-a -wife-to-me-and-a-mother-to -your-kids.
She screamed and howled and when asked if she understood these things, she screamed “FUCK YOU!”….Such language huh? So of course I had to spank much harder. Trust me; those moments are precious memories now.
WHAT-DID-YOU-SAY?-I-THINK-YOU-NEED-TO-LEARN-A -LITTLE-HUMILITY!
Humility is such a great word. Let’s just say that after about three minutes of solid, hard ass beating, (and a swelling hand, I hate to admit) she had learned a great deal of humility.
NOW, you knew my ex but you didn’t know that oral sex was far, far beneath a woman of her dignity and pride. Only trailer trash did that sort of thing in her eyes. Sufficient to say that after those moments were done, Miss I don’t do that sort of thing, rolled directly off my lap and fumbled with my zipper.
Randy, it wasn’t just that she was going to suck my cock now. It was the way she went about it. She rolled off my lap, directly to her knees but it seemed to me that if she had a tail it would be between her legs and her shoulders were hunched up as if trying to turtle her head back inside a shell. She SCRAMBLED to please me.
I was satisfied that it wasn’t a lack of enthusiasm or effort on her part, mind you, but it’s sufficient to say that she lacked practice at oral
sex. Everyone knows that practice makes perfect, and she had considered herself above such wifely duties, in the past. I decided that I had enough of that and I wanted to do something that would make this moment an epiphany for both of us. I put my hand on her forehead and told he rotates enough.”

I stepped back, deciding that my admonishment about her failures to be a wife should be addressed and to show her at that exact moment what this would mean. She watched me step around behind her, and didn’t move as I yanked the pant legs of her jeans up and off of her, lifting her legs in the air as I did so. After shredding her panties out of my way, I slipped my own jeans down to my knees and kicked one foot out of its pant leg. She knew what was next, because she was already getting into position. On her hands and knees wasn’t good enough this time though, I put my hand squarely between her shoulder blades and simply said, “Down, bitch.I want those tits on the ground.”

As she placed her arms overhead to brace herself, I pushed all the way in on the first thrust and grabbed hold of her ankles. I stood up while buried balls deep inside her and began scooting her across the ground with my thrusts. My grip on her ankles kept her rocking back to me. I wanted her to understand this new place with me and to feel the humility of serving, even at the cost of her pride and sense of self. To be truthful, I felt, for lack of a better phrase, like a god. Maybe a better description would simply be to say I just let myself be me.
She only said three words the whole time. She said them over and over again. “Oh my God!” It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t fear. She never said the word, “No.” She was completely wrapped up in being taken, and the sensations that both her mind and body were experiencing. I held back, wanting to make this last as long as possible. As I used her, I kept reminding her of the words she heard during her spanking and added a few here and there: “You’re going to be a good wife to me, woman.” “Do you understand your place now, bitch?” “You wanna feel me cum inside you, don’t you slut?”

When I heard her panting, affirmative replies to my questions, I felt like I could carry both her and the truck home on my shoulder. When she felt me explode inside her, she cried out her own nirvana and gripped what little grass the clearing offered, ripping it out of the ground. Shudders periodically passed through that half naked body underneath me, as I set her knees back down on the ground. We got our clothes back on, got back in the car and drove home.
Everything felt fixed. Everything felt right. She sat gingerly in the middle of the front seat so she could be next to me, hand on my leg. I took her home, stripped her, and ordered her into bed. She obeyed without comment, possibly for the first time in her life, and I got a quick view of purple living color on each cheek of that bare ass. Just as she scrambled to please me on Lost Rd, she scrambled to get her naked ass into bed. I picked up our son at my brother in law’s house and he drove out with me to retrieve her vehicle. I picked up the daughter at the dance. All was well, or so a fellow would think. The next morning she told me the next time I was “violent” with her, she would call the police. I told her that next time she risked hundreds of other people’s lives driving drunk on the road, what I would do would be the least of her worries and that*she*might be the one spending time at the county hotel.

So what went wrong? If this was the moment of truth, why is she now an ex? Well buddy, the only thing I can tell you is that I may have rediscovered a truth about myself that I wanted to embrace, but she discovered a truth about herself that she chose to hide from. I could go into all the deep psychological reasons but its all window dressing. The point is, once you find what is true for yourself, will you have the courage to put the truth to use in your own life?

As for me, Randy, the truth was simple: It was an old dirt road that could be considered almost one lane .Once I made that right hand turn down Lost Rd. I found that at least for myself, there was no turning back.
             Take care of yourself out there……
 

Lot’s of ideas, more than 7 drawings in the works, but nothing of particular interest to post.  Sorry.

there once was a gal who was crafty

and then one day her ass became drafty

a man came a long

his spanking arm strong

he taught her that crafty was bratty

she smiled and raised to his gift

eager to close any rift

spank me hard please

she asked him with ease

under foot she felt the sands shift

where once she knew long lonely nights

with only old demons and fights

now her life was bare

to a man who would care

just what would they do with her nights?

there was no real question of course

and there’d be no inkling of force

she wanted his lead

even if it meant plead

for her backside, too late for remorse

the gal’s learned one thing in her days

even if needs get lost in a haze

that spanking is right

it can be in sight

all spankos should traverse the maze

there’s one thing no one can deny

though most of us really are shy

our bare bottom needs

are not beyond creeds

fear of shame makes us cry

so let’s all of us try make the leap

stop being sex normal led sheep

the paddle we need

applied hard indeed

so it reaches us deep and feeds sleep

lolololol best I could do with the 20 minutes I had left on line… love y’all.  I really need to hear from some of you once again silent folks.  I’m sorry I’m needy, & thank you beyond measure to the 6 of you responding faithfully, I love you, I love you, I love you, Am I boring the rest of you or what?

So what’s new huh?  I always need a spanking.

They’re a little hard to come by these days, but that does not stop my mind from wandering there at the weirdest possible moments.  I had to deal with one of those difficult people today.  You know the kind I mean?  The one’s who obstruct and argue every detail of things that their position actually requires them to assist you with – like ordering supplies, for example?  LOLOLOLOL!  I will happily embrace some of the most complicated uncharted projects, and even lead a brand new team through figuring out how to get it accomplished and then actually help lead implementation and testing of the ideas.  But I gotta tell ya, I have serious trouble negotiating simple tasks like ordering pens, pencils and paper.  Why?  Because there are just sooooo many idiot road blocks to getting this done.  Medicare regulations require that you check that every vendor is not on their exclusion list, the state requires you also check the OIG (office of the inspector general) site too to make sure the vendor’s not in trouble with them, and then there another website you gotta check, but you gotta check these sites BEFORE you place an order, because if the invoice and check dates don’t jive, it’s a SOX violation (Sorbains Oxley – thank Enron for that impossibly cumbersome new and constantly changing set of regulations) .  Then of course, the particular director who is in charge of the department that is supposed to facilitate ordering and procurement is one of those folks who just don’t wanna do any work and whose favorite strategy is to feign ignorance and make you spin wheels figuring out what she needs to do so you can tell her how to help, then arguing with you that it’s not her job.  She expends so much energy deflecting requests from peers that she actually do her job I suspect she goes home completely exhausted every day.  Every time I’m faced with having to deal with her, I avoid & procrastinate until the issue can’t be avoided anymore, and today was one of those days.

Now, I must say that going forward this is my outlook, and I hope that in 30 days the results will be evident … “I want the process for getting the supplies and equipment I need to be easy and obstruction free; I (and my department staff) deserve an easy obstruction free process for getting the tools we need to do our jobs; I can have such a process; …. Hehehehe but, here’s where the hiccup comes in… can I say that going forward I will have this, or do I have to say I have this now, or do I put my head in the clouds ignore the hilarious if time wasting events of today and tell my self I already have an obstruction free process?  

I must say though that I only cussed under my breath once when it took 9 e-mails and 3 phone calls to get one thing across.  The critical care collaborative has worked with a preferred vendor to create a procedure kit that contains all the “Best practice recommended” pieces.  This makes it possible to just go to the supply room, get ONE thing and you have everything you should have.  Right now we have to depend on staff & MD’s (more than 800 individuals, some of whome we see only once or twice a year) to know to gather 7 different pieces to bring to the room to accomplish a certain procedure the way it should be done to comply with ‘best practice.’  I forwarded the purchasing/ordering info for this new complete kit and requested that it get on the agenda for the new products committee’s next meeting.  Completely ignoring the ‘directive nature’ of the collaborative’s e-mail that I was just forwarding, in less than 2 minutes I received a response from my ever so helpful peer itemizing all the pieces we already stock and how this kit would not provide us with anything we didn’t already have, so NO she would not waste the products committee’s time with this.   

LMAO!  Though, for a split second the word’s ‘the hell you won’t,’ did flash through my mind along with ‘HELLO?  Like you’ve got a choice here?  Just do it!”   I took a deep breath and responded, that it was not an option, the directive had already been given, a number of folks had already invested considerable time in getting a vendor to make a kit to meet the needs, and then I had an “a ha,”  thought.  I gave her a choice.  Order and stock the new full kit, or take the list of ‘best practice’ contents and require that BEFORE her staff dispensed any of the old kits to the floors they pre assembled all the requisite pieces and build a brand new single charge ‘charge-master’ code  for the manually assembled kit.  I suggested she calculate the man hours involved in the manual assembly (especially after hours and on weekends), because that was going to be her ONLY reasonable option.  I also suggested she consider the anger factor of physicians who come in on a Sunday to do the procedure only to have to wait for a manually assembled full kit to be assembled and delivered by an on call employee who hasn’t even gotten to the hospital yet.  No other department was going to be, or could reasonably be able to assume responsibility for assuring all required pieces were available and gathered 100% of the time the procedure was done simply due to the logistics of numbers of people who would have to be trained versus the relatively few numbers on her staff.  I copied her boss, our chief financial officer (CFO), on my carefully and reasonably, just plain pragmatic, let me know how I can help you accomplish this basic and simple thing e-mail.  LOLOLOLOLOL.

I then had to get all the preceding e-mails shared by the collaborative & vendors during the development process AND the procurement newsletter giving the directive to every hospital’s supply chain director to cooperate making the product available asap.  What did I get back?  LMAOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL! And Argh!  “If the Nursing Directors order the new product I will order it.”  Sigh…. At that point I gave up & went straight to the CFO.    “Look, we need to delete ALL inventory of the old product & replace it with this new one. None of the old product should remain in house, and it should not depend on 9 different Directors to order their own inventory of the new product while supply chain still keeps a par level of the old.  What will inevitably happen is that as new one’s are used supply chain will restock with the old, and we’ll induce frustration among the Docs & the nursing staff when they open kits without everything, making them run to get the extra stuff we’ve tried to drill into them to use diligently.   There should be only ONE product available period, and since it’s used hospital wide it belongs to the central procurement process not 9 individual Directors.”  He agreed and laughed.  Even so; it still remains for me to point this out to his subordinate sometime tomorrow.  I plan to do this publicly at 8:30 AM tomorrow morning.   Hehehehehehehehehehehe! 

Yup I need a spankin.  We have two kinds of printer in our world.  The thing that made me laugh hardest and realized stuff’s just not set up with intelligence was when I ordered ink jet cartridges for the color printer and had the $88.00 order rejected.  Why - because toner comes directly from IS.   Yes black laser toner does come from IS, but no ink cartridges or even color laser toner.  It took me three days to get that clarified so I could get ink cartridges for a printer already out of ink.  EVERY time I have to order ink cartridges I have to call to remind that it’s ink not black toner, or my order will be rejected.

I want the ordering of all work supplies to become as simple as it should be (as easy as ordering porn, cosmetics, fancy undies and everything you can think of online) .  I can have this, I deserve this, this is already a reality.  Ohhhhmmmmm

If I could get a spanking tonight, I’d ask for it.  I’d ask to be made to focus on my goals and think through my approaches.  Was there any disparity?  (No not really in this case) If there was I would ask that the intensity of the initial spanking be more severe to remind me, then proceed to helping me get rid of the unpleasant tension in the ribs in the upper middle of my back, if there wasn’t I’d want it to build up to the kind of ouch that makes me cozy and submissive.  Both would end in sex.  My preference would be being spanked to orgasm and then giving a blow job all the way for him, but being allowed to start with a blowjob and then being fucked is also very appealing.

Tonight, absent the red bottom, (though I’ve imagined coming to him paddle or strap in hand my panties already pulled down, my need and desire expressed both physically and verbally) I’ve been spanked hard, and I’ve closed my eyes and eased down between his parted legs.  His tumescence is already beginning, and the soft teasing lick and quick side to side tease of my tongue on that most sensitive convergence of ridged tissue that marks the bottom edge of his corona.  I feel him thicken and lengthen yet he’s still pliable enough that I can go down on him all the way to bury my nose in his curly male scent.  His growing erection pushes my throat away and I can manage only one more full swallow before he won’t fit anymore.  My hand joins my mouth and they share a stroke counter stroke rhythm that makes him rigid.  I stop now and then to lick and tease that most deeply engorged firm head, and then lick slowly back and forth down that firm back rod crossed by bulging veins until my tongue presses his ball apart.  I turn my attention to each, kissing and the suckling their sinewy fullness into my mouth, first one and then the other, and then when I feel his thighs quiver, I return to the tip and my hand and mouth resume a more rapid stroke counter point cadence.  

He allows me only a taste of his precum this time. 

“You need more spanking tonight sweetie,” he stops our conclusion.

Tears well up in my eyes, not out of fear, but out of gratitude; I climb up, kiss him and lay back across his lap.  The rest of the spanking may hurt more than I am able to cope with, but it does exactly what I needed it to do.  It exhausts every loose end, all of my misplaced energy and lets me give up every ounce of  doubt in what we need and share.

When he guides me to bed, and presses himself inside me, my spasms come with his second thrust, and the only intensify as he churns to find his own completion.  

A hard understanding spanking, a much appreciated thank you, and then vigorous closure.

I ask for this; I can have this; I deserve this; I am operating as if this is already a fact of my life.   (LOLOLOL!  Betcha the Secret writers never banked on this.. hehehehehehehehe)

Gee whiz…  though… gotta wait till July for a real spankin… LOLOLOLOL!

OK so I told y’all that I’m working “The Secret.”  I’ve watched the DVD and I’m downloading the weekly lessons and I’m enjoying the palpable shift in energy that comes with just a few weeks of trying to redirect my thoughts.  It’s not likely that you’ll never again read a ‘patty rant’ here, though I do hope that when you do it will come from a place of humor again.  Some of you may remember those days?  When I used to simply observe the silly irritations of everyday life the way I experienced them from a place of funny retrospection.  The primary message of “The Secret” is that whatever your thoughts are focused on feeds the energy drawn to you.  Think negative thoughts & you will draw them, think positive thoughts & you will draw them….  example:  think ‘I don’t want to be poor.’ and being poor becomes the energy you draw; think ‘I will be rich’ and being rich is ithe energy you draw.  There’s a bit more to it, but essentially that’s the basic message.I’ve had a few of those draw negative energy days recently, but I’ve also had a raging kidney infection that made me practically catatonic for several days last week.  I’ve also been bruising deeply with barely a touch.  I had a ton of lab work done last week, and while nothing points in any serious direction, I’ve been taken off the once a month arthritis medicine I’ve been on so that when I go up to Houston for my bi-annual breast cancer check up, the high but non-functional platelet count, low H&H and elevated white count with slightly abnormal MCHC, will either be resolved, or if not be able to be interpreted without a drug effect.  I already know it’s the drug.  I have none of the sense of foreboding that came a few years ago when feeling that lump made my blood run cold.  Even so, I’ve been feeling like crap for the last 10 days.  I’m sorry that’s made me quiet.  Thank goodness for Levaquin.  Here’s a frightening though for y’all.   I’m BaaaaaacK.  LOLOLOLOLOLOL!

I enjoyed a full day at work today and even joked with the CEO.  We had to talk about some potential issues that some external scruitinizers who are coming down to see us soon will probably flag.  He laughed and said “what, you mean because X has no spine?”   I had to laugh too, because he was right, then I chuckled and told him I was working ‘The Secret” and had to think about that from the positive.  He wasn’t familiar with the secret, so I gave him a quickie synopsis.  I closed with this; “I want the respect of the medical staff, I can have the respect of the medical staff, I deserve the respect of the medical staff, and what’s more I am operating now as though I already have the respect of the medical staff, and if I keep that in the forefront of my though process and approach, within 30 days I’m going to begin to see rewards.”  He laughed, raised his eyebrows and said “30 days?”  I had to laugh & smile too.  Stranger things are possible right?

Then at lunch I had a neat one on one chat with one of the folks I usually enjoy lunch with, but almost always we dine with a huge crew.  I love her because she’s one of those cozy happy people who lives a whole life outside work.  She crafts, paints, slumps glass and she is totally involved in  her family.  Today no body joined us.  I mentioned “the secret,” and how I was really going to try and live it, and she laughed.  “Oh you mean Affirmation?”

I agreed with her they were probably related, and then she proceeded to share with me her ‘affirmation’ experience.  It involved colors and images.  Her daughter had just broken up with a boy friend (not something my friend was at all upset about by the way) and she sensed her daughter’s loss, so she found a photo of a married couple and mounted it on yellow paper so she could contemplate it with her daughter in mind every day.   She laughed when she shared that the only picture she could find was a bride & groom who were the same height.  She knew her daughter wanted a taller mate, but guess what?  In les than a year her daughter met a soul mate & is now married 21 years to a man the same height as she is.  The other ‘affirmation’ image she laughed and *warned*  me about was the house she pressed on red paper for herself.  She wanted a home with a pool.  The photo she found was of a home with a pool and the home owner was cleaning the pool.  Not even a year later they got such a home, and they could only afford to care for it themselves.  I had a huge belly laugh today when she described the work involved in pool self cleaning for two adults who work very long hours, and how their sadly neglected pool ended up losing them equity on the home.  She told it with such humor.  Her message?  ‘Be Careful what you ask for/wish for/envision for yourself, you just might get it as is.’

I’m not about to let myself be derailed from the “I ask for”  “I can have”  “I deserve to have”  “I’m already living it,”  approach, though.  It feels right and intelligent.

Honestly the only thing I want that is out of the ordinary is regular appropriately motivated spankings.  What an affirmation that would be huh?  Patty get’s her bare bottom spanked regularly, often and for every appropriate reason?

LOLOLOLOLOLOL

Thanks y’all for being here with me.  I am grateful for all of you, grateful for your support, your loyalty, your friendship.

The Secret

This basic truth of life is recently being marketed as a “secret’ known only by a select few, and even being withheld from us by the powerful.  For most of us, it’s always been there, though it’s been communicated and imbued with differing degrees of power.  I admit fully that having my focus pointed to it with more force lately has helped me gather and even regain strength, but I must say that none of this is news.

The wonderful most satisfying possibilities of life have been the fodder for probably ever happy dream, and just maybe it’s been the wind beneath the wings of every worthy and lasting success.  I’ll even ask for the things I want;

• A man who loves me, believes in and values the things I do; that must include spanking and DD.
• A job that fully uses my skills and a leadership team that values them.
• A secure home where all the little things that touch me and have value are visible to those closest to me, and where I can reciprocate – this includes all of my family, not just the man who shares my bed.
• An outlet for my written and drawn art that brings emotional and significant economic prosperity.
• To live to see sexual, erotic and artistic freedom become real.
• To eiither earn (#1) or win enough money before I am 55,  so that absolute comfort with all of the above is possible before God calls me home.

That’s 1^st  step of achieving “The Secret.”  Those are the things I want.  I’ve actually asked for them in kind of a round about ways all my life, so, even so, there they are.  I wrote them down; the 6 things that could make Patty whole.  6 things.

Next thing is to believe I can have them…

Goodness gracious!  Whether they are mine or not, I know there are literally 100’s of men who believe in DD, and who like me just because I speak their language.  I’ve been blessed to find someone new who loves me because God’s let me find my way under his skin….  Time will tell about #1, but truth is it’s beyond past a given….

Let’s leave my job out there.  My insecurities are too extreme at the moment for me to see any kind of plan at work… just life, unreasonable expectations and impossible achievement for one person….

• I see it coming…. MMMM
• Lots of readers, lots of art lovers, almost no payers, but then I’ve only bee able to find limited outlet, 99% restrict explicit content….  Do I have to create an explicit place myself, and when I do, will my friends welcome everyone?
• See # 5
• I would  like to earn enough through my internet spanking work that I could write & draw erotica and not have to do anything else to make ends meet.  I’d like to be comfortable enough that enjoying the internet and traveling to advance my work was easy/fun/tax deductible.  I certainly deserve it….  I really do!

I’ve asked, and I hope I can have and most especially deserve each of these things….

The next tenet of the secret that it’s supposed to absolutely ensure it’s success in our lives is that we live as if we have already received.  OK so here I go, I deserve and will have everything I’ve asked for and believed I deserve.  I’m going to rehearse then live my life of answered prayers.

Just so it’s clear I’ve already been blessed by so many answered prayers and blessed surprises.  That there could be more for me fills me with a wonderful sense of warmth and encouragement.  Money is the only elusive actually – enough so everything works right will do, OK????

To the man my secret may motivate…. Spank me please.  Love me and as you do expect me to be accountable. Understand my moods and give them just credence.\

I’ve got a bit more to say about the true relevance of this whole idea when it comes to 2 month olds & 2 year olds with incurable diseases… but that’s for another day.   For now I’ll go will the me factor, and hope it’s got power….  J

Love patty

“I couldn’t help it!” she giggled.  “Oh no please!”

Although giggles still couldn’t be suppressed when John leaned down and picked up a handy cast off slipper, Patty’s free hand tugged against the grip that had just become vice like.

“What did I tell you about getting you hands in the way?” Patty could sense the evil grin he wore as he applied two very stinging slaps to here exposed bare thights.

“Ow honey! No fair!” she kicked and renewed here efforts to free herself.  “This is a fun one remember?”

“It is fun!” John laughed and laid the slipper on just a little harder up on the fleshier more warmed up regions of her bottom.  “I’m certainly enjoying it.  You should see the lovely red ovals this thing makes.  John emphasized his pleasure with a particularly hard smack.

“Eiy! Ow! Ow!”  Patty squirmed some more.  She was held firm though, and after all she had certainly participated in the silly overtures that initiate this early morning interlude.   Acceptance and cooperation invaded her pain and pleasure conflicted mind.

In a minute or two she warmed up to John’s enthusiastic efforts and took her spanking like the good girl she could sometimes be.  Soon it was his deliciously stinging check to cheek to center rhythm and the firmness of him growing hard next to her left hip that made her hips rock side to side.

His rock hard bare thighs under her soft stomach reminded her it was morning and they had barely started getting ready for the day before their sensual mutual spanking dance started.  Once his demonstration of dominance and her submission was thoroughly established, and her bare bottom was scaled to his satisfaction, it was only a matter of stepping out of her panties before the last of the dance could conclude.

“Harder honey!” she whispered, her hands now free to grip and caress his left leg.

John obliged.

“Oh oooh!” she whimpered, opening her mouth and closing her teeth on the flesh between her hands.

“Don’t bite me there!” John chuckled, whapping her thighs to warn.

Tears burned the corner of Patty’s eyes, but she immediately redirected her helpless primitive carnal kisses to her own arm.

“Don’t stop!” she gasped.

John had no intentions of doing so.  He recognized the involuntary signs that his partner was reaching the nadir where pain blended perfectly with pleasure.  One of his greatest pleasures was being able to give her the spanking that took her there.

*****

He kissed her tears when she climbed on the chair with him, mounting him with some shared manual guidance.

“I love you.” He smiled wrapping her close to him as they coupled fully.

“I love you more!” she sniffled.

“Did I hurt you too much?” he wondered, his thumbs wiping the tears that had escaped below his kisses.

“No,” she smiled through a hiccup and sob.  “You hurt me perfect.”

With deep sadness and prayers for so many young lives taken so soon, families experiencing such incomprehensible loss and a young man so tormented he could make such a desperately terrifying choice.

To the Arms of the Angels

With love

There came the day when trust bloomed
Of course that meant her bottom was doomed
“Come here,” said he
“Yes dear,” said she
Then over her bottom his stout paddle loomed