Category Archives: spanking


I was called out of town on Tuesday, I had to make an unexpected trip to Texas to be with my dad who was recently diagnosed with cancer.  When I’m away, JD enjoys amusing himself by doing arts and crafts – which usually results in a new toy.  Now, those of you who know me (which would be um, one, two, three, none of you) know that I LOVE three things – Apple Products, Spanking and Disney World.  Knowing that, you might realize why I was over the moon to receive a text halfway through my visit with the this photo…

Yes, my friends that *is* the Apple symbol cut away from the rubber of  a ping pong paddle!  Fanfuckingtastic, isn’t it?  So committed to detail is my scrummy darling that he even reversed the template on the paddle so that the imprint rang true.  Brilliant, isn’t it?

We managed to find a few free minutes this evening to play with this delightful distraction…and it was utterly delicious.  It is not a quiet toy, but it is indeed an effective one.  After a challenging and stressful trip, it was wonderful to come home and just…unwind.

So, to celebrate my peaceful and contented state of mind, I thought I’d share a few photos…

The first imprint…quite light, to which my dearest declared, “Oh no, I think we can do better than that!”

Oh yes. Much better. (And much ouchier!)

Well now you’re just showing off (and taking photos).

Double rainbows, erm, I mean Apples!

Everything was rocking along nicely; we had just decided we’d put a “Mickey Mouse head” on the other side, when…

DAMMIT! We broke it.

Oh well, the good news is…I’m home!!! And ping pong paddles are cheap!


Posted by on October 15, 2012 in fetish, spanking, toys


One in the hand, two in the bush…

Does anyone remember Antoine Dodson?

Yeah, him.

Well, to coin one of his more eloquent statements,

I am so dumb. I am really dumb.  For real.

Seriously?  I have GOT to learn to keep my fucking mouth closed [sidebar]. SHUT. ZIPPED. LOCKED UP.

And yet, I think we can all agree there’s a better chance of the Cowboys winning the Super Bowl – or maybe the Jets.

The thing is, JD and I live in an environment where oftentimes sound, or more specifically the necessary lack thereof, is a major factor.  Not always, but often.  As we refuse to acknowledge this challenge as an excuse not to enjoy our lifestyle,  over the years there has ensued an ever-constant, ongoing search for implements of a quieter variety.  Last weekend we were having a conversation about said implements, when apparently I had some manner of truth stroke and blurted out, “I hear switches are virtually soundless.”  Wait, what?  Who fucking said that?  Oh, fuck, it was me.  You could almost see the bulb light up above JD’s head.  He nodded, changed the subject to our Fantasy Football League and the day carried on.

That evening as we got ready for bed, JD slipped up behind me, slid his arms around me, nipped me on the back of the neck and said, “Have I ever told you how brilliant you are?”  I bit my bottom lip, not wanting to blurt out what I was really thinking, which was, “Well, hell, this can’t be good.”

And you know what?  It was, um, not.

No, because out of seemingly nofuckingwhere, JD produces a switch.  And not any switch, but a Forsythia switch.  Have you ever seen a Forsythia bush? Yes, those branches are stunning to look at.  The colors, are indescribably beautiful.  But.  They are not so stunning when you are looking at it over your shoulder as you are bent over the bed, bare bottomed, and still deliciously sore from being paddled and hairbrushed the night before.

And then you hear it.  The softest of whispers through the air.  And yet, in the deepest part of me, the part that knows what’s coming, it’s as if lightening is striking.  I silence that voice.  Chiding myself, I think…it’s so quiet, how bad could it possibly be?  And then it connects.  Fresh wood on fair skin.  Just below the creases…his favorite spot, my worst enemy.  It’s as if an army of yellow jackets, in perfect lateral formation, have all stung at once.  The bright red line is instantaneous…and indescribably beautiful.  I can almost hear JD gasp in satisfaction.  He is pleased.

He raises the switch back into the air, I hold my breathe in anticipation.  It comes down again and again, a dozen times before I can even register the first.  It is painfully magnificent.  It is torturous poetry.  It slices through the air, effortlessly cutting through all of my bullshit, and leaving only me – raw and lined.  He continues until he is satisfied with his efforts, spending more time than usual admiring his handiwork as I kneel in the corner.  I hear the shutter of the camera several times, but do not look up.  Instead, I muse…

Perhaps I will learn someday.  Yes.  I will learn to keep my tongue in check and my thoughts to myself.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, I will decorate my house with these…

So you can run and tell that, An-toine.

[Sidebar] I say fuck – a lot.  I like the word fuck.  I also like the word filibuster.  But I probably won’t use it as much.


Posted by on October 4, 2012 in fetish, spanking, toys


The Power of 36…

I lie across the bed…anticipation pulsing through my veins like an electrical current. I can feel the pillows beneath me…bunched up and twisted from my movements…yet, still pushing my ass further into the air. The paddle comes down yet again on my already sore cheeks – “lucky” number 21 in the third of six series of six. Thirty-six total. 36. The paddle is unforgiving. It doesn’t really give a shit that it just landed in the same spot moments ago. And neither does JD. I wince, and squirm from side to side…pleading oh so sweetly with JD to stop…but he reminds me of my tantrum the night before and continues.

He’s right. I was…astonishingly badly behaved. Even for me. But, god dammit, I just get so fucking angry. And I drank Jack Daniels. That shit should be ranked right up there with Jagermeister for the devil it brings out in me. I focus on the paddle count once more and drift away…30…”Baby, please, I promise I’ll try harder”…33…”But baby, it hurts sooo much.”…35…”Ooow, FUCK!” And then I hear him whisper in my ear, “Just one more…hold your position.” And finally…36. It’s over. I’m told to remain lying across the bed, which I do gratefully, but still risk slipping a hand back to feel the knots and welts quickly forming in the meatiest part of my buttocks. He clears his throat from across the room. That’s all the reprimand I need, I return my hands back to their position on the pillow.

He slides onto the bed beside me, and immediately I am reverberating with pure adrenaline. I love having him fuck me after a spanking. He rolls me over, kneading my ass as he does…the action causing me to wince and whimper in one motion. He kisses me and I nip at his bottom lip in anticipation and he quickly enters me…it’s barely seconds before I orgasm…and then he begins to speak to me…

“Rebecca, I can allow for you to be angry, but I cannot allow you to be disrespectful.” I nod in agreement…so close to orgasm I’m willing to agree to almost anything. He continues, “Do you remember what you did last night, Rebecca?” I think for a moment, the realization of my actions suddenly making impact like a hurricane making landfall. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I really am. I’ll never do it again, I promise.” He looks down at me patiently, still moving inside of me. I orgasm again. “Perhaps, but you must still be punished. You do not spit at me.” I breathe in sharply. I know I spit in his face. I remember it vividly. But hearing him say it is a different matter. I nod. Silently acquiescing to whatever punishment he has in mind. He continues to lecture, “Would you like it if I sprayed my body fluids all over you?” I shake my head earnestly. He pauses for a moment. “You wouldn’t like that would you? That would be humiliating wouldn’t it?” “Yes, sir.” I whisper. He grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger and speaks very deliberately. “Well then, perhaps that’s how I should punish you.” I tear up immediately, silently begging him to change his mind, yet hoping beyond hope that he doesn’t. He slowly withdraws, his cock still damp from my wetness. He stands up beside the bed and gently shifts my position…slipping my shirt over my head and then turning me so that my head is directly beneath him. He looks down at me and then deliberately begins to stroke his cock…

Even now, as I’m being punished, I can’t help but watch in wonder as his hand moves up and down the shaft of his cock…fuck, I have always found that hot. I realize my mouth is slightly open and I quickly close it, swallowing hard. He continues to stroke. And lecture. “Rebecca, I want you to express yourself, but you will learn to do so in a healthy manner. Spitting is not ok. Next time I hope you make a better choice.” He begins to stroke a bit faster now, the rhythm of his motion and the cadence of his breath becoming one. I hear my own breath quicken and I close my eyes just in time to feel the first spurt of warm cum hit my face. And then another…and another…I can hear him continue to chastise me, “Does that feel good, Rebecca? Do you like to have things spitting in your face?” “No, sir.” I answer, as cum drips into my mouth.

He finishes, and after a moment leans forward, pushes my hair back, and kisses my forehead. He reaches down and hands me a towel. I quickly clean myself up, and he slips onto the bed once again, gathering me into his arms. I snuggle in close, apologize once again and then feel my pulse quicken as he whispers against my hair, “That was just for the spitting. You’ll be getting 36 with the bathbrush for the rest of your behavior last night.”

I shudder. I fucking HATE the bathbrush.

Leave a comment

Posted by on October 2, 2012 in fetish, spanking


A Non-Introduction of Sorts…

Meh.  I hate introductions.  They’re so dreadfully boring.

The way I look at it, in a perfect world, you’d note the title of the blog, think to yourself, “Christ on a cracker,  she must enjoy being spanked!” and carry on reading with wet panties or a stiff ermmm….maybe I should go back and read the “WordPress Terms & Conditions” does anyone know where they stand on me saying cock?  I shall review them later.  Or perhaps not.

Anyway! Welcome to my blog.   For your safety and comfort,  exits are located in the upper right and left corner of your computer screen.  Please take a moment to locate these exits as I have been known to lose pressure quite often (trust me, I know this, it’s the primary cause of the sore bottom I’m currently sitting on).  My name is not important, but you can call me Rebecca if you’d like.  I also respond to Becs, but that’s only because it rhymes with sex.  And that pretty much sums up the personal information portion of this blog, as it will remain quite anonymous because I like my job AND my privacy, and, well, people are damned nosy sometimes.

And yes, in case the title of the blog doesn’t give it away like a teenage girl with daddy issues, I do enjoy being spanked.  Enjoy may be too gentle of a term…but people tend to get a little worked up when I use more emphatic words, and then they start throwing around words of their own – like dysfunctional or unhealthy.  So, because my darling disapproves of me telling these people to run outside and play hide and go fuck themselves, I just use enjoy…but I do so emphatically.

Why a blog?  Because I like spanking, which is not something I can typically share with people.  And because I’m impulsive, I will do something for no other reason than “because it feels good.”  And, because I miss writing…and I like impulsively writing about being spanked.  So, if that sounds like a blog you might be interested in reading – stick around, I’m happy to have the company.  If not, well, I believe we covered the exits earlier.


Posted by on September 26, 2012 in spanking