Nick's Day

In the past few years I think Nick would say we have been very, very happy. I know I have been! But I know he is happy to have gotten rid of his ‘lets just be roommates’ wife and instead had a passionate lover in her place. But let’s face it we are in our 50’s and we have been spanking for going on three years now so we can’t be expected to jump on each other every single time Mollie gives us a free afternoon.

My mind, my thoughts, my fantasies drive my sexual desire. When my mind is consumed with other things I don’t feel very sexy. So lately the libido has not been very strong. It is coming back a little however and I have been think that it was time for another ‘Nick Day’. The other day I sent my honey the following

Admits One
PK's House of Pleasure

You are invited to 'Our House' this Saturday morning anytime after 10:00 AM.
All activities are pre-planned but request are accepted. Dress optional.
RSVP

As you might have expected Nick was willing to take me up on my invitation. I am confident that he enjoyed himself thoroughly (he said it was a good thing he had a free pass because he could never have afforded it!) ! He began in silk boxers and a blindfold. His only requirement was to lay back and take it! Although I enjoyed myself very much – this was Nick’s day. I did everything I could think of to please my man, beginning with a full body massage and ending with a warm sponge bath. I will let you decide what I might have done in between!

Nick is such a quiet, strong presents in my life. We don’t have a DD marriage. At one time I thought I wanted one but I realize now that that is not for us. I think of us as having a ‘spanking relationship’. I would say that 90% of my spankings are just for fun or the erotic pleasure of it. Maybe 6 % is for stress relief or what I call mock discipline - things he may really wish I could work on improving but nothing he is really upset about. He just throws in a little discipline feel because he knows I like it. And then maybe 4 % is actually discipline in nature.

Nick may have been surprised at some of the things he recently found out, but he is just too easy going to be really shocked by anything. I did receive one discipline spanking in the past few weeks but I have to tell you that the reason he gave for this particular spanking really surprised me and made me feel more cared for and loved than ever. This one I have only shared with a few people but his caring was very special to me.

So for my Nick, PK’s House of Pleasure will always be opened. If any of you would be willing to share the special things you do for your guy (or guys if you would like to share what you would really like your lady to do) maybe I can tuck these ideas away for Nick’s next special day!

BTW, looking at these two pictures which do you think looks more like the 'real' me?? Yeah, I was afraid you would pick that one! LOL!

Fantasy Friday - Letter to my husband

Happy Friday everyone. I know some of you have had to weather some nasty storms this week. I hope this Fantasy will help to warm you up just a bit. You know this author and read her words often. She is one of our fellow bloggers so you will be able to go back and read even more of her work. So we made it, it's Friday and we have a story. What could be better! Enjoy...

Letter to my Husband

November 30, 2009

Dearest P,

I want you to spank me - send a note telling me how I should be at the office, in the meeting room, and in position by 4.00pm bent over the conference table ready, I mustn’t move. You won’t arrive at that time. Tell me what I must wear, that you've left clothes on the bed, the black luxury silk underwear and stockings you recently bought, the 3 inch high heels that you love me to parade in front of you, the earrings that you say are like my eyes, deep blue, the smart cashmere business suit with the tight fitting skirt that accentuates my bottom. Tell me I'm to bring the strap, the black leather one you made for me, and the red silk scarf, and place them on the table.

3.30 I'll pull my silk pants over my freshly showered bottom, I'll shiver with anticipation and excitement, stockings, heels, the suit, the earrings, perfume nothing too strong, nearly ready for you, god I'll feel sexy. The strap, I'll take it from your drawer and put it in my handbag along with the scarf.

3.45 I'll get in the car, only a short drive to the office.

4.00 I'll place the strap and the scarf on the table as instructed and be in position bent over the conference table ready waiting just waiting. I'll be still.

4.15 You won't have arrived. My body perspiring lightly, my heart beating so loud I will hear it. My black silk panties damp from the moisture between my legs, I’ll want so much to slip my hand down into my panties and feel my desire, stoke it, thinking of you, but still I will not move.

4.20 You won’t have arrived. I’d hear people in the street outside talking, laughing, doors shutting, dogs barking, a shiver runs through my body every time I hear footsteps approach, my palms sweaty from holding the table, my legs tired. I'll think you aren’t coming, my heart will be sad, upset, I will feel foolish, angry even.

Then you’ll come, I won't see you but I'll know it's you, your key in the door, your footsteps, I'll feel your presence behind me, you wont speak to me yet.

You'll touch my face, my hair, run your fingers down my back over the swell of my bottom, linger lightly there, I'll be shivering and trembling from your touch, my legs weak, I’ll hold the table tighter, I'll be moaning, Oh how I'll want your hand between my legs to take the ache away. But you won't take the ache away.

I’ll hear you pick something up and I know it’s the strap; you’ll put it in your pocket. You’ll take my hands and bind them lightly with the scarf, stretched out above my head; I know not to move them. You'll put your knee between my legs, move them a little further apart until they're just so. I'll let a low moan escape me, I can't help it, I want.

Your hand circles my bottom, I’ll want to turn around but I won’t. Your hands then shimmy my skirt up to my hips, pull my panties aside and I feel your fingers teasing, probing, exploring, my wetness. I’ll want to feel you inside me so so very much. I'll move my bottom to meet your hand to get every inch of contact with you. You swat me; I know I'm to keep keep still.
You still won't speak.

Your hands raise my skirt fully up to my waist, which you hold firmly with your left hand, I know what that means. I feel your right hand caressing the fleshy mounds of my bottom through the flimsy silk of my pants, trailing lightly between the cheeks briefly touching the flesh where cheek meets thigh, and then your hand is raised and there's a whoosh of air as it crashes down hard against my right cheek, followed swiftly by the left, you repeat, build a steady cadence, it stings, makes me gasp. I clench involuntarily as the blows land but quickly relax again to plump out my flesh, make it attractive to you, to do with as you will. You'll notice these things.

When my little mms and ahhs start to become longer lower moans you'll stop. My bottom flesh is alive. All my senses are alert, I'm receptive to the slightest touch, a wisp of air as you move position, your thumbs as they smoothly hook the waistband of my panties, draw them slowly over my hips, my reddened cheeks, to rest at the tops of my stockings. I want to touch myself, I can't my wrists are tied, I wiggle my heated bottom, I'm trying to feel the table against my pussy, I can't, I moan and wiggle harder, I think it must look very lewd my red bottom framed by my stocking tops and suspender, writhing with such obvious intent. You must have noticed, you have to notice, you know me you know what I need.

You’ll say nothing, I hear movement. I’ll feel cool leather brush lightly against my greedy flesh, I’ll let out a whimper and push my bottom towards it, I'm unashamedly pleading, please touch me there right where my wetness glistens for you, please. You can see my arousal, you let the leather slide between my cheeks, touch me so briefly, I feel a trickle of moisture and try to clench the strap between my legs but it's withdrawn and my cheeks are left clenching air. You tell me I'm being lascivious, rude, greedy, impatient, that girls like me need firm discipline to keep their emotions in check. You make me answer in agreement, my voice is distorted with lust and I raise my buttocks as far as I can to please you.

I feel your left hand steady me, I let out another whimper, feel you raise your arm and then the strap comes thrashing down against my bottom with an ear splitting thwack, it connects with both cheeks, the leather is thick and supple, it curls a little but you'll adjust for that. I cry out, it's genuine, it hurts. You know it and bring the leather down again without giving me time to absorb the sting, aiming a little higher and shortening your stroke to cut the curl. You take it quickly to a dozen strokes I'm wriggling like an eel on the end of a line, I can't dissipate the pain, I can't imagine what my bottom looks like all I'm saying is please.... pleading.

Don't stop. Don't let me off the hook. I've been a naughty girl I need to be punished thoroughly until all those wanton feelings are subdued. Pause just a second, firm up your hold on me, tell me it's too late for pleading, raise the strap again bring it down harder than before, my bottom's hotter now it can take more, don't feel for me, a dozen more, two dozen if necessary until my wiggling has stopped and you can hear my sobbing.

Stop. Untie my wrists, help me up I'll be bit unsteady, and take me in your arms and tell me how much you love me. Don't fuss me too much don't regret what you've done.

Tell me to go straighten up in the washroom now and then go home. You'll be a couple of hours yet, you'll see me later.

I’ll go, I’ll probably have a spring in my step as I walk to the car, and no doubt I’ll smile to anyone I pass in the street, they'll probably think I’m mad, I'll prepare something nice for dinner, your favorite and open a bottle of wine.

Love.
Ronnie
xx

~~~oo0oo~~~

Thank you Ronnie! What a hot letter! I sure hope that when your husband reads this that it can become a reality! If any of you are not familiar with Ronnie's work you need to check out her blog, Heart and Soul ! Please leave her a comment and let her know what you think of her story, then pop over to her site to read even more.


I have a few more Fantasy Friday stories lined up but I can always use more. If any of you are writing and are willing to share with us that would be great. Send your stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

Thanks again Ronnie!!! The story was great!

This and that

Anyone else got a teenage daughter out there? At what age do they decide that they can take on the job of dressing their mother? I guess I started it. Often I will call her as I’m dressing to say “Does this look alright together?” Once in a while Nick and I will accidentally put on something that almost matches. In horror she demands one of us change. We have threatened to get matching outfits and come together to pick her up at school one day. But I guess we will hold off on that until she does something really awful.

Mollie and I went shopping the other day and suddenly she seems much more interested in picking out my clothes. She talked me into several things that I wouldn’t normally have gotten. They were fine but not the color I would have gotten (she says I have too much blue). And she insisted on a jacket that did look nice but was not completely comfortable. When I told her that she got an exasperated look on her face and stated firmly “Mom, it’s not about comfort it’s about how it looks!” Geeze, it seems like I just out grew that notion myself and now my personal shopper comes along! Anyway I wore my new outfit today and more people complemented me on it than anything else I’ve worn this year. Maybe she knows what she's talking about.

My wonderful son, you know the one getting his BS degree, has not been too communicative lately. I did hear from him on inauguration day. He called that afternoon so exited! I answered his special ring to hear him say “Happy America, Mom!” But since then I hadn’t heard from him. I called a couple of time but he hadn’t gotten back to me. Now if I am paying for the college, and the computer and the cell phone I don’t think a short “Hi Mom, I’m alive,” is too much to ask. So after leaving several messages with no response I called Collin. I knew he had talked to him. I was assured that LJ was fine and extra busy and that he would call soon.

He ended up calling while I was at the gym and left the following message. “Hi Mom, haven’t heard from you in a while. You really ought to check in a little more often. Would it be too much trouble to text or email me letting me know you are alright? I called Collin to see if he had heard from you and he tells me you are fine. How about giving me a call when you get this.” Yep, well on his way to that BS degree!


And on another note. I had an anonymous comment the other day that has me thinking. This was it –

As for Cassie's Space, it is your property and therefore your decision, but if it you feel it is okay to reopen it, I hope you will reconsider your decision to take it private. I'm sure that you can understand that that move excludes anyone who feels nervous about sending their email address to anyone over the internet. The events that have unfolded recently including this one would have left many feeling that way. If they are willing to give Cassie's Space another try out of understanding for you, are you unwilling to understand their feelings right now as well?


This was one of the things that bothered me a lot. I never wanted anyone excluded. I mean, I am honored that people still want to read what I write. And if they are willing to read I want them to be able to. I also remember being worried in the beginning that things might not being as anonymous as we would sometimes like. Nick was also in favor of opening the blog up to anyone that might want to stumble by, as long as the fact that it is fiction is clearly stated. So… I am reconsidering. I will probably open it back up fairly soon. Give me a little time. You will have to check back – there won’t be any fanfare about it. Thank you to everyone who has asked to come read and I thank this anonymous commenter encouraged me to open Cassie back up.

A southern blizzard

Some of my blogger friends have mentioned lately that they are not thrilled with their weather. They seem to fuss a lot about the snow. Well I just wanted them to know that I feel their pain. We had a snow storm here last week. It was pretty major - schools closed - I am talking intense!! At my house the driveway was nearly covered!!! The following was a article in a local paper. So read on to see the harrowing tales of a southern blizzard...


It was a day of history, one that elders who survived it will share with a generation yet unborn. And as the memories unfurl, no eyes will blink.

It will be the story of how we endured the Great Obama Blizzard.

Braced for the vicious onslaught, the city was widely provisioned with milk and bread. But on the eve of the great storm, things turned more perilous, indeed. A crippling 1 to 3 inches had been predicted, but bulletins through the night revised the impact. Possibly 4 inches, possibly 5. One forecaster went to a catastrophic 5 1/2.

Word flashed through the community of immigrants from Buffalo, N.Y., a group hardened to the perils of precipitation. Some decided to close their bedroom windows this awful night. Others chose to actually sleep under the sheets. Their precautions paid off. All survived.

In the predawn, stars vanished from view as the storm bore down. Then it came – one flurry, then two. In a few minutes, fell a third. Conditions were deteriorating fast.

The school system ordered its great fleet of buses grounded. Who could find fault: Flake 4 had been detected in the outlands. Now, the dire prophecies were coming true.

By dawn, TV weather centers at Defcon One were sounding the gong. Glompler Whompler radars scanned the sullen skies. Technicolor blobs bore down on the Piedmont.

With whole thimblefuls of snow now pummeling the region, TV anchors issued stern warnings: Do not venture out. Remain home. Lie down in a ditch – oops, wrong disaster.

Cackled the Buffalonians: “Is it snow or radiation?” But it wasn't funny. By now hundreds, maybe thousands of flurries gripped the metropolis. Great spires of uptown groaned under ounce after ounce of accumulating snow.

Now, with dawn's light intensifying, at least one TV reporter, risking his life in the field so you wouldn't have to, demonstrated the magnitude of the calamity.

He stuck a yardstick in the ground. Two inches! Two inches! Then he stuck it even harder. Maybe three! Only the tips of grass peeked up from the disastrous depths of the white blanket.

Truckers, not in touch with local TV stations, were apparently caught unawares. They plied the interstates, spraying up mists of deadly slush, leaving other motorists in a dangerous quandary – should they release their death grip from the wheel to turn on their wipers, or use the hand holding the cell phone?


In the suburbs, where it was 31 degrees but felt like 30, mothers who had foolishly allowed children into the apocalypse launched desperate rescue missions. To no avail. The missing mitten was not found.

Finally, at noon, salvation arrived. Out came the sun, and inch by brightening inch began to melt the feathery invaders. Flakes turned to water and trickled into storm drains.

The city was saved. And a new post-blizzard era began, one warm with hope and believing in miracles.

Mark Washburn

~~~oo0oo~~~

See, winter is tough all over!! Now let's not have anymore whining from those up north!!

More talk and Fantasy Friday

NOTE : I have decided to keep Cassie's Space private but I am willing to invite anyone that is interested. If you would like to read the site just send me an email to elisspeaks@yahoo.com If you enjoyed the stories or are just curious you will be welcomed. I removed everyone that was invited before you knew the truth. If you want back in please just let me know.

Fantasy Friday follows but I guess I need to say something. I’m not sure what. I am so sorry for everything that has happened, for everything I have done. If I wasn’t clear enough in my other two posts, let me be clear now. What I did was dead wrong. Lying is always wrong. I knew lying was wrong before I did it but I did it anyway. I am sorry I did it, not just sorry it all had to come out, but sorry I did it. I am sorry that I hurt people. I don’t know what else I can do or say.

I have wanted to answer some comments out here but things have gotten so ugly that anyone that dares speak in my defense in any way runs the risk of being impaled with a barrage of hurtful words. I truly appreciate each of you that have left a kind commented, called or emailed. But I have no desire for my friends to put themselves in the line of fire out here. After all they didn’t do anything wrong. I hate to see them spoken to unkindly just for showing their support.

While what I did was wrong I won’t take credit for every problem in blogland. When I first found Bonnie and the spanko world initially I was hooked quickly and completely. Addiction was not too strong a word. I spent hours and hours devouring everything Bonnie wrote. I took time away from my family and other things I needed to be doing. But I’m an adult and that was my choice, I can’t blame Bonnie. I am taking time now when I could or should be doing other things. Many here are choosing at this time to spend a large amount of time commenting instead of spending time with family. Each person makes their own choices of how their time is best spent.

I want to correct one misconception that was out here somewhere today. Tiggr did set up Cassie’s original white blog and was kind enough to find the beautiful original avatar. As the person she helped at that time, I thank her. But the beautiful, one of a kind, incredibly unique template that has been the face of Cassie’s Space for the last year was done by none other that the fantastic CeeCi. I still think it is the most beautiful one she has ever done. And I thank her.

I do not know what to do about Cassie’s Space. Many have said they would be offended by its return, while others have asked for its return as an acknowledged fiction blog. I don’t know what is right but I will decide soon.

If I take blogs off my blogroll it is not out of anger or because I think they are not good sites but out of respect for their wish not to be associated with my site. And that is understandable.

Forgiveness? That has been mentioned. I have said I was wrong and that I am sorry. I have to decide if I am going to forgive myself. I do know that forgiveness does more for the one doing the forgiving than for the one forgiven. I hope everyone out here does what they need to do to feel better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And one last apology. To the wonderful author of this great Fantasy Friday story. So very sorry for you to get caught in poor timing of when you story went up. You have done an excellent job! And the story is great. So everyone here is the test of this weeks Fantasy Friday. Take a deep breathe! And for just a few minutes lets all enjoy this spanking story together. And for those who may comment on what I said don’t forget to give your thanks to our new author.

ON JULIE’S BEACH WITH A PADDLE - part two

John proceeded to painstakingly hop around to the driver’s side. I threw myself over the top of the gear box knowing I couldn’t even stand outside the car because, for the first time in my life I was afraid of John and he was totally justified. I had almost hurt us by not paying attention to polite local driving customs. I was speeding through the intersection full of myself while I berated an injured John in the process. The last thing that came out of my mouth was ‘so fuckin’ get over it’. I wanted to die. Driving his own car while his left knee was visibly swelling; he grimaced in unrelenting pain. I wanted to cry but didn’t dare.

John’s cell rang. It was Sharon and I could hear the kids in the car. They sounded so happy. That was light years from where John and I sat in our funeral procession drive home. That is what it felt like and coincidentally Sharon shouted through the phone as if our car were as noisy on the inside as hers,

“Where’s the funeral, we just passed you two headed north on the strip and you didn’t see us waving like mad out our windows. Davey proposed that you had kidnapped his mom for cash but that Dave refused pay the ransom, so you were both stuck! Just kidding Julie! If you can hear me, sorry honey! Davey is definitely crackin’ us up today!” She laughed so lightheartedly.


Oh God, if she had only known that John would find little financial value in me at this point in time. My heart felt like it was racing and had just stopped all at once, as I realized I had to face Dave and then Sharon. But most painful would be facing Dave. I felt like a prisoner, John the Jail guard, judge and jury. I was fucked. The sad thing was all I wanted to do was be alone somewhere to kick my own ass. I kept saying to myself ‘what was I thinking?’ but then my monster ego came loping into yelling “you weren’t stupid bitch”. And then as I looked at John holding the cell phone (I managed to get my downcast eyes up that high) I knew I’d pay big time. This was the day that John would be guiding my marriage into the future.

“Hey Shar? I want you to take the kids out for lunch and a movie, if you don’t mind. I have some serious shit to discuss with Dave about Julie. Nothing I haven’t said before, but this time she’s her own prosecutor. Its part of the reason we looked like death warmed over when you passed us.” A long fifteen seconds passed.

“No, I won’t go into it now. Just keep the kids occupied for the better part of the day. I think we will need to have John’s kids over for a campfire tonight. Hopefully at the end of the evening Julie will be settled into their new direction.” A long pause occurred.


“All right, I gotta go, love you babe. Ya, I’ll tell her, only it will be later, much later.” He hung up and his caste iron eyes felt too heavy, like my heart couldn’t support the weight of their glare. John pulled the car down the street the ocean glare was magnificent. There were surfers and bikinis and pick ups everywhere. Everybody was drinking something cold and happy to be on the beach and ith each other.

“Julie!” I jumped at my name when we pulled into the driveway of our beach house. Dave looked toward us with a big smile and motioned toward the cooler.

“Stay in the car!” John hissed out through his lips.

I had never seen him like this. He spoke through gritted teeth. How dramatic was that? I asked myself rhetorically, trying to find fault with his behavior. I stayed in the car staring at the pack of cigarettes I had just bought. I was already in so much trouble; I didn’t think it possible to make things worse by smoking in the Vantage. Besides if I smoked a cigarette maybe I could fight off that sickening feeling that I was five years old. I grabbed the pack and carefully unwrapped the cellophane.


John backed up a few steps stared me down and said “If you even think of lighting up in my car, I’ll beat your ass first. Understood?”


He waited until I shook my head in total fear and agreement. The day seemed to be moving through fucking molasses. A few minutes had passed. I looked down at the beach now where I could see Dave’s incredibly angry body language. John had one hand in his pocket as if two hands would over dramatize the situation. He used the other one in choppy angry slashes through the air. Dave just kept shakin’ his head. Every once in a while he’d look up at me in the car with a wild look I couldn’t make out from the distance I sat. But I knew I’d never seen that look from him before. I knew in my frightened heart that that wasn’t the only thing to be delivered to me that day.

I couldn’t even bare to think about what they were saying. I had suspected what John and Shar’s married life entailed regarding how they resolved issues. I felt like they were living in the 17th century and with my personality, I wanted no part of any of it. My prayers were that Dave would elevate himself above John’s sense of fuckin’ cowboy justice. I was pissed and scared. And I realized after nervously downing my energy drink that I really had to pee. I also knew I had to pee whenever I got very nervous. How was I supposed to sit in the car all morning? But I didn’t dare get out.

I put the cigarette in my mouth and moved the car into gangster lean position. I had to calm myself down. Fuck it I’d just take a nap, they’d been on the beach for five minutes. I figured the longer Dave took to shove aside John’s ideas, the better. I was lucky so far that Dave hadn’t ripped me out of the car and tried to spank me right there in the driveway in front of John and the surfers. I needed to shake off that possibility so I closed my eyes tight and focused on breathing.


Dave stood up after sitting on the cooler. He and John shook hands. Then John slapped him on the back. What could that possibly mean? I watched Dave walk forcefully and purposely toward the car. With each step Dave seemed to loom larger and I felt myself becoming tinier. I had never seen his expression before and panic set in. Would he break our engagement? Had I fucked things up irretrievably? I wasn’t prepared to pay that kind of price for my actions. I was hoping that he would see how remorseful I was. And maybe, just a little his face would soften as he approached me. My legs began to shake as he touched the door handle. I assumed his voice would sound angry, but it was gentle as he opened the passenger door for me.


“Don’t speak,” he said too calmly.


Now I started to shake all over. He didn’t need to say one word. He was one of those rare guys whose actions were other men’s words. And now it became too obvious to me what was coming next as John pulled up in the Advantage intercepting us before we got inside. John handed Dave a fucking paddle! I felt nauseous and wanted to bolt. I just kept looking down as Dave bid me to enter the beach house by opening the screen door. It was much cooler with the air conditioning and now I couldn’t hide my shaking. I could feel Dave boring holes in the back of my head but assumed he was also focusing on where he’d use John’s paddle. He took my left wrist and guided me upstairs. His grip made me feel guilty as hell. As he came up behind me on the stairs, he gently took my right wrist and then positioned both my wrists at the small of my back. I felt like I needed an orange jump suit based on my perceived control over my life the next few hours.

Once in the bedroom, He laid me over the bed. My shorts exposed way too much in this position. My fiancé appeared very natural while I was lost in my predicament. I didn’t know what to do with myself. In my stubborn mind I wasn’t resigned to submission. I had spent my whole life resisting the concept. Even though Dave was quietly in control of our relationship on a deep level, it usually didn’t come to the surface very often.


For some weird reason, I flashed forward to our upcoming wedding. I certainly had bridezilla potential and could see us tux, veil and paddle holding up the ceremony while Dave delivered a groom’s justice. Years after that I could picture Dave putting in a movie for our kids while he took their mommy upstairs so that she would be reminded that recording atm withdrawals in not optional when saving money is of the essence. As if Dave was inside my head sharing my visuals I heard him say,


“Julie I’ve known you your whole life and you make total sense of what I’m about to do.” I began to breathe fast, no make that pant and he hadn’t even touched me yet. I needed him to talk me through this, to help me understand how a grown woman could be face down on her vacation, a month before her wedding, awaiting what had to be a painful spanking. But I was realistic and knew I just wanted to delay what I was about to feel, as I watched him raise the paddle well above his head. He felt like a wall crashing on top of me.

Nothing could have prepared me for the incredible sting that resonated on my ass. I tried to escape from the bed based on shear instinct but Dave’s arm destroyed all hopes of my escape. Minimally I wanted my hands to protect me against the incoming blows. But I couldn’t move myself, not at all. Way to quickly the next ones came. The paddle was so fucking long both cheeks felt seared to my shorts. Fucking John, fucking Dave. I was furious now and began to try to move. I was going no where. I had no option. I had so somehow endure the incredible pain. I tried to talk my way out before the fifth strike came.


“Dave, please, I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again,” I ran it all together so fast and then wished I had more to say, thinking foolishly what I had to say would change his mind. I was so pissed and scared. Responding to my disobedience he landed a blow that made the others seem amateurish (and they weren’t)! I shrieked so forcefully the sound upset me. I was so physically jolted by that swat I vowed not to say another word. The cumulative effect was becoming very clear to me now.


“I told you Julie, NOT to speak!” He was too calm except for the word ‘not’. This was a first for me. I was always so competitive with Dave and others. I believed I would always come out on top. Humility was sorely lacking in my life. It was kind of like a light switch went on, or maybe it turned off; I’m not sure. I became less angry and more resigned to what I knew I had had coming to me for a very, very long time. As I began to cry I felt such a rush of relief. Everything was so slowed down and simple, despite the fact that my ass was a fireball. I had always been so manipulative with my behavior. And while I knew I’d think twice about it the next time after this lesson; more importantly I knew Dave would help me to be accountable to myself. The sense of knowing I’d no longer be allowed to grow in a wrong direction also made me cry. Then I began to sob and almost choke. After about twenty hard smacks with the paddle, Dave stopped, glanced peacefully at the paddle then said.


“This will be our first wedding present to each other.” We could feel the change in me. For the first time in my life I was finally submissive and stopped fighting against the paddle, against Dave, against my better judgment. I felt relieved and yet sad for all the years of acting so immaturely.

He let go of my wrists and set the paddle down on the bed at the same time. He turned me around and sat me down on his lap. You would’ve thought with the flow of his movements, we had done this a thousand times before. While I was amazed at this unrehearsed yet synchronized ballet, I was more amazed at how much it hurt to sit. I could feel his thighs; they were too hard beneath me. I felt like a fireplace radiating heat. My hair remained in front of my face. I wanted no eye contact. I felt so embarrassed that I had caused him to be this way with me. He pushed my hair away from cheeks and wiped the tears with his thumbs. He waited until my eyes met his. He waited a few seconds – it killed me. He leaned in to kiss me as if I’d never been kissed before. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. He seemed a bit tired based on the depth of his sigh. But as always it was challenging to know what he was thinking. But I knew he loved me enough to do what was right for me. As he began to kiss me more firmly I was surprised to find how much I wanted him.

We made love. Each time I moved a bit, I could feel the reminders of his welcomed power over me. And although it was different for us, John told me exactly what to do as we made love. (Usually I would be hopping all over the bed.) Then we napped. Later that night Dave insisted I “face the crowd” and of course I needed to apologize to John and Sharon. John put on Queen’s “Another one bites the dust.” I was demurely sitting next to Dave. Being quiet had never felt so good or safe. Taunting, John whispered in my ear,


“I played this for you!” Waiting maybe thirty seconds I leaned back into Dave’s shoulder listening to the waves roll back out to sea and watching the logs burn down. I said to Dave very quietly, “I want you to know I resisted calling John an asshole. Aren’t you proud of me?” He just chuckled and shook his head. While firmly patting my very sore behind, he said rhetorically, “Julie… how are we going to get you through this wedding?”

~~~oo0oo~~~

Our author this week was KayLynn. She is in her late 40’s and lives in PA. KayLynn has been married for 30 years but they have only been spanking for around 18 months. She is the proud mother of 4, some of whom may be figuring out mom and dad’s secret! LOL! KayLynn’s words sums it up best “I'm the spanko but he's the classic stoic alpha male and hasn't had trouble adapting. We've never been happier and we've always been very happy.”


Thank you so much for contributing. I am looking forward to your next story. If anyone is writing and would like to join in on Fantasy Friday please send your story to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

Fantasy Friday - On Julie's Beach with a Paddle

It's been a long week and I am glad to see that Friday finally got here. Someone new sent the story this week. You will have to wait unit the end and then I will give you a little information about this great writer. This is one of my favorite types of stories. I love a history of the couple and this author does a great job of showing the personalities. Please enjoy...

ON JULIE’S BEACH WITH A PADDLE

Dave and I had planned our marriage for two years. We had known each other for almost twenty. He married a friend of ours from high school. She wasn’t right for him and I knew that from the start. Sadly but not unexpectedly they amicably divorced. Dave and Jan had had three gorgeous kids and I love them more each day, wishing they had been my own. Never marrying, I couldn’t find that guy who knew how to deal with my high energy level.

I lived with one guy for five years but he was drama prone and we weren’t comfortable sharing the spot light. I like to look back now and think I was waiting for Dave. He was and is still my Clint Eastwood, Steven Siegel, that wise and stoic figure who lets me exuberantly dance through life; yet imposes loving limits. My ability to figure out when enough is enough occurs somewhere between observers feeling massive annoyance and crowds demanding my public flogging! It was never as evident as the month before our wedding while vacationing with our life long friends.

August 2004 was the month before Dave and I were to be married and I knew I had the world by the tail. I breathed in the overconfidence with my waking breaths and was most likely hell on wheels by the afternoon hours. It took me fourteen years to finally get this guy! I was surfing the biggest wave of my life and nothing was going to stop my sense of sophisticated momentum.

At age 34 it was my first marriage, Dave’s second and that put me even more in the proverbial spotlight in my eyes. I was determined to handle it all with a dignified cool, but with my personality; it was a challenge. Plans had been adjusted time and again to suite each other in just the right areas. While I had wanted a two ring circus, Dave guided me toward just the one. While Dave needed a brief ceremony, I got him to compromise so I could include a poetry reading, flower girl and three bridesmaids. Things actually seemed to be in place. Shockingly my organizational skills were competent, given my propensity toward distraction. I managed to keep our wedding in good quiet taste given Dave’s personality, but managed to infuse my childhood dreams.

It was mid August and we were meeting John and Sharon and their three kids for a wonderful fifteenth annual vacation at the beach. I have always been silly around John. He has this repertoire of comedic characters that make me hysterical with laughter. We are opposite sex versions of each other. Dave finds us entertaining separately and totally out of the box when we are together. Sharon is tolerant, sweet and quieter than Dave, which seems impossible.

“Our” three kids are all close in age so it’s one big kid party. We keep in touch with a yearly vacation at a secluded beach at the end of an island. The ocean was on one side; the marsh was on the other. All year long, all of us think about our week together. With the knowledge that we’d all be together for the wedding in only two months, we were giddy with anticipation. The vacation just before the wedding seemed to have Dave in a particularly sated mood. We could feel his sense of calm. His best friend and future wife were filling the air with jokes and this week I thought everything was funny. John and I are our craziest in front of Dave and Sharon, our favorite audience.

When we do happen to be alone we are very respectful of each other; there are no personal agendas of any kind, except for John trying to help me grasp the marriage style between him and Sharon. Sometimes John pisses me off during our private talks and I’ll carry my anger back with the four of us. Very occasionally Dave will call me off John if he thinks I’m being disrespectful regarding John’s traditional value system. I’ve watched Sharon’s reaction to my comments regarding their marriage style and she’s always so cool and collected, as if she’s got some special perspective that makes all of it all right. I’ve assumed that Sharon’s clearly, yet quietly, on my side. Maybe I’m her vicarious emotional vacation. I could never picture Sharon getting away with my outspoken perspectives. I’ve always felt happy that Dave’s cool with my behavior. In fact he seemed very confident with our roles.

John is a no nonsense kind of guy when it comes to his expectations of women, kids and work subordinates. Maybe that’s why he lovingly tolerates me with humor one week each year. He gets a vacation from being ‘in charge and large’ as I tease him. I challenge him on his everyday thinking and make him laugh at himself. I’ve seen John really mad only twice in my life and I often wondered how Sharon and the kids managed after the vacation was over.

I never knew what exactly John and Sharon had going regarding problem solving. I just observed that they didn’t have power struggle issues. Things seemed simple, too simple for my needs. John would enjoy my discomfort as he discussed with me his ‘master of his realm lifestyle’. I would uncomfortably side step my way through those conversations hoping to change the topic. It was foreign for me to think that I wasn’t half in charge and under my own authority regarding my future marriage. Dave always treated me more than fairly, given my highly competitive nature and we had an easy relationship compared to most. But I will readily admit that I was constantly overstepping his boundaries and had it not been for Dave’s stoicism, I’d have been fodder for my fiancé’s sense of discipline a long time ago.

It was the day before our departure. We were well into our beach routines. Dave fishing, me writing, John jogging, Sharon and the kids on some morning outing. Dave yelled up to me from the walkway to go get John from a run. Apparently he had ‘broken down’. Sharon was too far away with an overcrowded car. Dave was not leaving the beach and missing his fishing. So I was the low woman on the totem pole and not happy about being disturbed. After all, I felt I was performing and productive.

Dave seemed oblivious to my frustration ready to become anger. Except that he spoke slowly to say that I’d have to use John’s new car. Looking back I can now recall that his voice carried a nonspecific unheeded warning. John’s knee was feeling older than his ego I thought as I left my writings. I was pissed having had a real flow going on a new story idea. Dave kindly yelled up to me,

“The keys are hanging on the…”

“Ya, I know”! I barked down to him. ‘On the back of the door’ I rudely cut him off, threw down my notebook and stomped toward their beach house.

I had to admit that at any other time I would’ve been excited to drive John’s Austin Martin V8 Vantage Roadster, but today I had told myself would be dedicated to writing. Tomorrow was last minute pictures and of course the dreaded fucking packing. I hated when I’d be forced to be organized. Dave had always insisted I bundle the dirty clothes into colors so we could quickly throw loads of laundry in while unpacking beach items from the car. I was just satisfied that I didn’t leave dirty clothes under my bed at the beach house!

I smiled grimly as I pictured John pissed that I’d be driving his car. He must’ve known Dave wouldn’t leave the beach to indulge his old track injury. John probably dreaded the thought of me riding his second favorite ride! He had barely let Dave drive it. Knowing Sharon the way I did I figured she’d be too afraid to drive it anyway. You know, really drive it, the way an Austin wants to be - no - needs to be driven.

Now the thing about me is I believe I can recover from disappointments pretty easily. In other words, I’m into the moment, but not necessarily looking ahead to the next moment. If I were to be inconvenienced, it would be my job to compensate for my own losses. My only chance to have fun was now. Deceiving myself and Dave, I calmly backed it out of their driveway. Dave kept looking up the beach house trying to glance at what he had to know was coming. He was always telling me that someday I’d hang myself with my long and tangled rope. I would occasionally answer under my breath ‘fuck you!’ in a spankable tone. Dave would respond in wisdom filled tone,

“Oh Julie, don’t you know what you’re getting’ yourself into?”
I would respond with an unknowing look complete with slightly furrowed brows.

John’s knee pain must’ve have been exorbitant if he thought that I’d calmly leave my writing and beach to come get his sorry yet cute ass. He mistakenly believed I’d be respectful of his aging vulnerability. But I had to feel a bit sorry for him. At my mercy he sat awaiting my arrival. I drove carefully to his waiting spot, getting the feel of his car. I didn’t want to give him what he expected: me flying into the parking lot on two wheels. No, I had already decided that would come just a bit later.

He grimaced and carefully walked on his left leg toward the passenger side. My smile got so wide it was obviously bordering laughter. He pointed a naughty finger wave through the windshield at me as if to say, ‘you had best curb your delight in my pain young lady’. I held back Niagara Falls force words as I let him settle into the passenger seat. But I just couldn’t help myself.

“John,” I calmly and quietly stated, “if you want to put your balls in the glove box while I ride you home in the passenger seat, I promise, that when I do put the car up on two wheels in the curve; I’ll put it down easy for you!”

Oh I was so proud of that blindsiding, funny comment. Laughing hard I couldn’t even look over at his face; I knew it was too perfect a moment but I had to be careful as he was staring at the road – making quality assessments of my every movement, really trying hard to ignore the massive insult I’d just flung his way.

A few seconds later I heard in a quiet tone equally the hum of the engine, “You know,” contemplatively, “Dave really needs to beat your ass!”

“Ya, him and what army?” flew out of my mouth immediately.

Shaking his head he threatened, “At some point Julie, you’ll take responsibility for your actions and heed the consequences.”

“Geez John, give it a rest, will ya? Your pain has gripped your serious side. I’ll have you know that I dragged myself away from writing on the beach to come get your sorry ass. The only good part is I get to drive your Vantage. Can you save your caveman crap for this afternoon when I’ve been able to down at least two margaritas?” I tried to retrieve the delivery with a bit of a dry laugh, but my message was clear.

“Speaking of consequences lets stop at the drug store and I’ll run in and grab you a first aid ice bag. Sharon and the kids will be back in about an hour and you can get a jump start on reducing the swelling. You’ll want to appear less old around our teens with testosterone. Remember, they smell weakness!” He needed ice but wasn’t welcoming my sense of control.

I parked the car and ran inside. I quickly grabbed an ice bag, bottle of acetaminophen two energy drinks and a pack of cigarettes for me. Tossing the bag carefully on John’s lap, I carefully proceeded to back out. John was acting like a frickin’ owl twisting his head this way and that making sure I wasn’t going to hit a pole or pedestrian. I rolled my eyes and John caught my expression. “Look John, I’ve never even had a speeding ticket…. Lighten up! Get that aspirin down your throat already; you’re making your driver grumpy.”

He snorted, “Well the speeding ticket is long overdue, I’ve watched you drive. What does Dave say about your ‘need to speed’?”

“Why does my behavior always have to rest on someone else’s perspective? Do we talk about how Sharon feels about your incessant need to control the family?” Now it was John’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Sharon and I have an agreement”, he said tersely.

“Oh God, if you ever fill Dave in on this scheme, I swear I’ll key your car! Please tell me it’s more complex than the “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” ‘head of the household thing’. God John, give it up already, I’m not drinking margaritas yet remember! Is all this fatherly bullshit because you’re walking me down the aisle? Oh wait I get it. You feel like my dad because I’m driving your car. This is like teaching and trusting your girls how to drive. I am clear now. You want to keep the conversation focused on my behavior hoping I’ll drive your precious car with controlled dignity. Then and only then will you calm yourself into tolerating this painful ride home with me.” I rambled on barely taking a breath.

“Well here’s the deal John, you are the passenger, you are injured, you have to suck it up and be at my mercy, while I drive your pristine car – so fuckin’ get over it!” I belted out the last phrase with musical deliverance.

As a turned my head to enjoy his pained expression, then follow up with a drilling gaze into his dark eyes, I could see his expression change from fuming to fear. In the left lane I was speeding through a busy intersection I went through a pink light. Some asshole turned left in front of me. Inwardly I cringed at my blaming attitude toward the other driver, because many times I had used the same technique to make an impossible left turn where there was no arrow. As I jammed my foot on the brakes I veered the car to the left just barely avoiding hitting the turning car. Fortunately we stayed within the intersection mostly in the south bound lanes complete with smoking tires and newly blackened lines in the intersection.

I sat there shocked. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. Looking into the other car I could see a young guy glaring at me. And while I knew he should not have turned into my oncoming car, I also knew he assumed I would stop as the light was almost red and I was speeding and not paying attention. I also quickly wanted to choke myself because my last lucid moments were so filled with my being an utter smartass and I felt ashamed. I could’ve injured John, the other driver. I went into a mental tailspin. And yet could only sit there feeling shock and disdain. Reacting John threw open up the door, stood up and hopped up on his right leg.

“You ok?!” he yelled with urgency.

“Ya” came back in an angry tortured sounding growl. “Your wife needs to understand that around here we don’t run red lights going 95 mph!” His southern drawl delivered the ‘control your fucking wife’ message loud and clear.

“Believe me when I tell you, this will get handled as soon as we get home.” John sounded so far removed from me I couldn’t stand it. I was all alone with my stupidity, dangerous lack of judgment and guilt.

To be continued...

Hang in there folks! This is a long story and we need to take the time to enjoy it. I won't make you wait long. The rest will be up tomorrow right after midnight!! And I will tell you all about the author.

A few loose ends

I want to say another word or two about Cassie. I won’t be discussing her here often but I do not want it to become an elephant in the room that everyone is tip-toeing around. There are just a few things that I want to be sure everyone knows.

The gratitude I have felt after reading my comments has been overwhelming and complete. Back in December when I was first discovered I knew/felt that I would be losing every friend I ever made out here. To say that I was devastated would be an understatement. I couldn’t eat, I was sick to my stomach for weeks. I was a mess. The guilt and embarrassment I felt was severe. But due to so much loving support I am letting go of the guilt and I am going to move on.

I need people to understand how Cassie felt about her friends. Please remember that when you made friends with Cassie or emailed her you were making friends and emailing a real person. I may have made up the Cassie persona but the feelings I had for the people that wrote were real feelings. I worry that some of you think I/she would receive an email and sat there laughing and thinking “Boy I fooled them good”. Nothing could be further from the truth. I started this with deception but I was fiercely protective of Cassie readers and her friendships. If you, in an email, told Cassie a secret it remained a secret. Obviously PK knew, but I never told one confidence that was shared with Cassie to anyone.

Many of Cassie’s stories I knew way before anyone had heard of a home computer (I’ve had over 40 years) but others just came to me. I never planned the stories out. It was more like I would hear a quiet chuckle in my head and Cassie would say ‘Oh my, you will never believe what happened to me!’ and the story would unfold. I never planned anything out and often she surprised me. I swear I did not know she was going to throw the ice bucket until it sailed across the room. For the last two months I haven’t let her spin her stories. But I feel she is still there. I don’t mind answering questions about her or anything you want to ask. Just shoot me an email.

I will be reopening ‘Cassie’s Space’ soon. I have a little house keeping to do first. I hope you will come by. Over there, Cassie will just be Cassie, a southern lady with a wonderful husband who spanks, loving neighbors, a beautiful dog, an old friend close by and a dear brother Paul on the internet. I hope you enjoy the adventures she has already shared. Comment on them if you like and she will probably answer. I hope she will have more stories to share in the future.

I think you'll agree

I am sure most of us have seen this but it did fit the way I was feeling today so I'm posting it. I bet I am not the only one who feels this way.

Gonna be a Bear

In my next life I want to be a bear.
If you are a bear, you get to hibernate.
You do nothing but sleep for six months.
I could deal with that.

Before you hibernate,
you’re supposed to eat yourself stupid.
I could deal with that too.

If you are a bear you birth your children
(who are the size of walnuts)
while you are sleeping and wake to partially grown,
cute cuddly cubs.
I could definitely deal with that.

If you are a mama bear everyone knows you mean business.
You swat anyone who bothers your cubs.
If your cubs get out of line
You swat them too.
I could deal with that.

If you are a bear
Your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling.
He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and
excessive body fat.
He knows not to get between you and the food.

Yep, gonna be a bear.

You need to know this...

What a mess we have had in blogland these last few day. I have never wanted hard feelings out here and I hope everyone is calming down. But there is one more secret that needs to come out and it’s my secret so it is my place to tell it. Several people found out back in November and with great integrity they chose to discuss it with me privately and let me handle things the way I felt best. To these people I give my thanks. I chose at this time to explain what I did and why. Here is my story…

I have blogged about something I did as a child. Around the age of 9 or 10 I began creating another family in my mind. I can’t begin to describe how detailed this family was. They lived in my mind as true and real as anyone I know. These people have been with me a long time. And I spent countless hours creating them and their world. I knew their story since birth. I knew their likes and dislikes, how they looked, dressed, thought. Just as an author would create characters a book, they each sprang from my head. But also as authors have explained the characters soon began to take over and create their own stories. And you must remember they have had over forty uninterrupted years in which to do this. One character was my particular favorite. She lived and breathed in my mind – she was everything, everything I wanted to be. I spent my life with these people.

When I found blogs in real life I knew zero about them. I found Bonnie and through her others. I read and read I couldn’t believe what I had found women like myself who understood my desire. I really didn’t know if it was all true or just stuff made up. I knew people used fake names and changed details about themselves and that that was the norm but mostly I was just dying to be a part of it. I was hungry to talk to people whether they were real or not. I knew everything was anonymous.

I wanted to be a part but I had nothing. I couldn’t join in the conversation. I had no stories, I had never been spanked, and I was never planning to tell my husband about my desire. So I was out in the cold looking in. But then it came to me, I didn’t have any stories but she did. She had a life time of stories. It was all anonymous, what could possible be the harm? Wasn’t most of this all make believe anyway? Or so I thought. I gave her permission and my life long friend – Cassie – lived and breathed.

I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea, no hint of an idea of what I was starting. I had no idea friendships, real friendships could come from just writing stories on the internet. I knew I was deceiving people but I never believed that I was, or could, ever hurt anyone with what I was doing. I was writing about a fun loving, interesting women on the internet – how could that hurt anyone?

Soon I learned more about the internet – I learned there were real people out here. And through them I got the courage to come out to my husband and then I was stuck. I wanted to talk and be the real me. So I created New Beginning and Elis/PK and that has been about who I really am.

But I loved Cassie. I may have created her but I love her. I enjoyed being her so much – I had wanted to be her all my life. ALL my life. And I couldn’t stop. I was as addicted to being Cassie as a cocaine addict is to their drug. Every time I tried to stop I was drawn back, I couldn’t quit. I rationalized it. I knew I was deceiving friends – lying to them. But I made it alright in my mind by being sure Cassie was kind and supportive to everyone. I thought – wrongly – that if she was a true supportive friend to all who commented or wrote then it would be okay. It wasn’t okay. It was dead wrong and I can promise you that I feel like the piece of shit I truly am. But one thing I will tell you everything I ever had Cassie say about or to any of her friends was true. If Cassie ever told you she was praying for you – you were prayed for.

Once I decided to let her live I went all the way. In my mind she was totally separate from me. I found out how true that was when Tiggr stopped blogging and disappeared. When I first read that she was leaving blogging my first reaction was ‘Okay, whatever.’ But as Cassie came into my mind I started crying. As Cassie I was devastated at her loss. I think that was the first time I scared myself – was I one person or two? The emotions of my two selves were so different I was frightened.

So I kept up the deception. I talk to my friends as PK and as Cassie. Yes I even talked to my friends about Cassie. I told no one. No one. Not ever the people I loved the most – CeeCi, Grace, Mthc and David and even Eva, the best friend I have ever had in my life. Nick did not know either – my husband who I have finally gotten so close to. But a secret is only a secret if you tell no one. I told no one, and I just let Cassie be as real out here as she was in my head. She had friends who never spoke to PK and she answered all her emails. In each one I tried, through her, to make everyone that ever wrote her feel better. I could say things as Cassie that PK couldn’t say. I am sorry I am rambling I just want you to understand what can’t be understood.

The truth – I have lied to many people, I did not intend to hurt anyone but I have hurt many. I know I will lose friends. What will happen now – I don’t know. I took Cassie private and only allowed a very few in that asked to read the archives.

So often I was just going to get rid of Cassie. Some how, some way but I kept convincing myself that that would hurt people too. This was never meant as deceit, it never started that way and as either person I only tried to be a friend. Maybe no one cares that much about a little spanking blog but some might. I'm just so very sorry.

So now you all know just why I have been so sympathetic to Paul. When I say I understand what he did and why he did it and what he is going through now – I mean it. What will happen to this blog? I don’t really know. I care about everyone who has ever read my words whether as PK or Cassie. I am sorry for the deception.

I knew that putting up the last post and coming to Paul's defense would probably bring all this out. But Paul was worth it. He was worth every bit of it.

For those who have been so supportive since you found out months ago - Grace and Bossman, CeeCi and Mr. Smith, Mthc and David, Paul, Eva and Adam, and of course Nick - your love, loyalty and support mean more to me that I can ever, ever tell you. I love you all.

PK

No warning needed

I need no warning about anyone on the internet. I didn’t come here looking for absolute truth. If I were looking for the absolute truth I couldn’t be on the internet dealing with fake names and people who I know are intentionally hiding there identity. I came here to write and to read the words of others.

The people I ‘know’ here did not come to fulfill my needs – they came here to fulfill their own. That is why we are all here. To fulfill our own needs. I wasn’t looking for a guide, a dom, a priest, or perfect person. I was looking for people who would discuss spanking and spanking relationships with me. I found that. And whether people told me the absolute truth or only what they wanted to be the truth doesn’t bother me one bit. I have been helped by every comment I have received or read anywhere else. No lie detector was needed to test the love and caring behind the words.

I am so very sorry that someone was hurt by a friend. But that should be one hundred percent between the person that was hurt and their friend to work out. By it being discussed other places has only brought hurt on those who truly only meant to help. Maybe they went about it wrong. Maybe they made serious mistake. Perhaps things got out of hand but I will never believe that there was any malice behind any of this.

Before we say how awful it is that some one was less that truthful on the internet – wow, what a concept – maybe should take the time to make a list of the times we have hurt a friend or a loved one, the times we screwed up big time, the times a small untruth that we thought would hurt no one backfired and ended up hurting us and others. Those of you out there that are perfect and have never hurt any one won’t have to make a list. But many of us are going to have to go get a second sheet of paper.

Look for the good in people, there is plenty. And when you see their bad try to forgive them for it and hope and pray that they won’t see our short coming and point them out to everyone else.

I'm giving Nick the cold shoulder

And I am going to keep doing it! The reason for this is a combination of menopause and being a spanko. You see before I came out to Nick I always slept in a night gown. Usually not a very attractive one but they kept me warmed. We got a queen bed so that we could each have our own space and that was the way it was for 23 years.

But the one of the major changes I made when I came out was to lose the gown. I love sleeping in the nude! Nick and I have kidded that we could get rid of the queen bed and get a single one now. We snuggle when we sleep and don’t take up all that much space.

Now some of you may not have noticed this (Grace) but it’s been a little nippy lately. I still don’t want to wear a night gown and with a Nick and a blanket or two I don’t have to. The only time I roll away from Nick is when one of those nasty hot flashes hits. Then I flipping all the covers back!

So under the blankets with Nick curled at my back I woke up pretty comfortable this morning. Nick was rubbing my butt – one of my very favorite things in the world and then he cupped my breast, but I needed attention else where – no not there – my shoulders were cold! The rest of me was toasty but my neck and shoulders get cold!!

So I moved his hands up to my neck where his warm hands did a beautiful job warming that area nicely. Nick laughed at me and said he guessed he didn’t mind getting the cold shoulder as long as the warm butt came with it.

So my husband will continue to get the cold shoulder and the warm butt and anything he wants in between!

Fantsay Friday - Is This What You Want?

I was so excited to get this weeks story! Now to be honest I am always excited to get a Fantasy Friday story but this week it is from a reader who does not have her own blog – at least not yet! I love getting stories from my fellow bloggers but to get one from a non-blogger make me very proud and honored that they allow me to publish their words; that’s very special to me. If you are writing please send me your stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com If by chance you have sent a story and haven't heard from me then it went to span. Please send it again! I have responded to every story I have received usually within 24 hours. So if you send one and don't hear from me - I didn't get it.


I will tell you more about this author after the story. But now enjoy…

Is This What You Want?

Melinda sighed as she finished reading the Fantasy Friday story on one of her favorite blogs, New Beginnings. She wished Larry would spank her like that. He was always willing to spank but only once had it ever been hard enough for her. She always ended up craving more and had often expressed this to him. She knew he worried about hurting her too much and the bruises and marks that she loved always distressed him. With a slight feeling of guilt she stood up and headed for the kitchen to start dinner. Larry was a good husband, he loved her and his willingness to spank and his concern for her was a part of him that she cherished. He was a controlled spanker. Lovely even strokes that allowed her to let the pain and pleasure mingle in such a way that she usually slipped into an almost meditative state. She could float there a long time, feeling the sharp sting of the belt coming down until she’d reached a point where the ache for him to be inside her pushed her out of that space and she’d begin to move toward him, silently asking for his cock.

After dinner they cuddled on the couch watching TV. Snuggled against him she murmured that it had been awhile since she’d had a spanking. He smiled down at her and running his fingers lightly over her nipples said, “I’m sure we can fix that.” Pulling her off the couch he led her to the bedroom and instructed her to strip and lie face down on the bed. Her hands shook slightly with anticipation as she quickly pulled her clothes off and positioned herself.

Melinda heard the belt slide through the loops and before she had a chance to prepare herself, felt the first sharp snap as it hit her ass. Precise, even strokes from the top of her ass to the bottom, up and down. She felt the rhythm of it and moved with it, letting it take her to that place inside herself where the pleasure and pain mixed. She moaned as he stopped for a minute and reached down to rub her dripping cunt. “Soon sweetheart,” he whispered. Running his hand over her red ass he continued spanking, letting the rhythm lull her again. She felt the orgasm building inside her and without volition began to move, silently begging him to fuck her. Normally this would be when he’d stop spanking, turn her over and pull her to him.

Instead the belt stopped, hesitated a moment and then came down on her upper thighs. Again and again he struck, with that same precision, up and down her thighs. No longer soothing, it pulled her out of her reverie, out of the pleasure until all she felt was pain. Without thought she moved her hand back to stop it. He stopped but not in the way she’d intended. Taking both her hands he moved them to her breasts and in that tone she knew better than to argue with, instructed her to hold her breasts until he told her to let go. Picking up the belt he began again, and now the pain was intense as he moved from her thighs to her ass and back. Randomly, not allowing her to sink into meditation, the belt landed harder and harder. She felt tears threatening. How often had she urged him to spank her harder? Well now she was getting more than she’d bargained for! Just as she was about to cry out that she couldn’t take any more, he stopped.

Pulling her close to him, he replaced her hands with his and began caressing her breasts. The tip of his cock slipped inside her and she moaned and arched toward him wanting him to fill her up. Gently but firmly he pulled her nipples and momentarily thrust himself deep inside her. She barely had time to realize he was inside her when he pulled out, spread her cheeks and thrust his rock-hard cock up her ass. It was so sudden she had no time for the pain to sink in. One hand continued caressing her breast and tugging at her nipple while the other moved down to her aching cunt. Melinda was in an agony of pain and pleasure like she’d never felt before. Larry had never spanked her this hard and the pain in her thighs and ass mingled with the pain and sweet fulfillment she felt as his cock pumped her ass relentlessly. Her cunt ached for more of him even as she moaned and cried out with an orgasm that ran through her body for what felt like hours.

Afterwards, cuddled in his arms, safe and warm, Melinda gently touched Larry’s cheek. He pulled her closer, gently rubbing her sore ass, and with a somewhat shy grin asked, “Was that hard enough for you baby?” The passionate kiss she responded with removed any doubts in his mind!

~~~oo0oo~~~

The author of this wonderful story is Pmduo!! Here is a little introduction from her… I don’t have a spanking blog (although I’m toying with the idea). I’m 50 plus – not much plus but enough – I’ve been w/my partner for 9 years and we’ve been spanking for 3 years. I found Bonnie’s blog about 9-10 months ago & followed her links. It has been a wonderful experience learning about so many others who love spanking! I’ve actually commented a couple of times. I live in the San Francisco Bay Area – you can include my email. harrietthespy@comcast.net

Pmduo thank you for your story. I really hope you will write more to share with us. And give that blog idea a thought!