Red Herring

What may seem obviously spanko to us, might be considered just plain sexy to our vanilla counterparts. So if you see your friends wearing the below clothing items, beware: they may not be a spanko.
 

Yoga pants

“They’re clearly for recreation,” I’ve read.
 
With their tight, cotton fit, the wearer’s bottom is outlined as it jiggles on the elliptical in front of you. Bounce, sway, shake, bounce.
 
Yes, these pants seem to be made specifically to entice the spankers among us, but, no! Every woman I know owns a pair of yoga pants and I’d suspect only a small percentage are game for a spanking.
 

Man’s button-down shirt

Who among us hasn’t fantasized about a man’s button-down shirt, paired with innocent white socks at the end of long, bare legs?
 
It is one of my favorite items to wear for a spanking — a simple yet effective staple in my armory.
 
Who knew that vanilla women also like to wear these tokens from their men? I suppose it is a basic ingredient for any sexy woman — vanilla and spanko alike.
 

Ruffled Panties

C’mon. Ruffles? On your panties?
 
They should require a spanko license to buy. Until that time, ruffles are for everyone.
 

Jodhpurs

These skin-tight pants are most often paired with a riding crop. A riding crop and tight pants — sounds decidedly spanko to me.
 
But people really wear them for riding. Horses. Like, real horses, not the saw-horse spanking benches that we know and love.
 

Jeans

Yes, it seems like the most obvious spanko item in my wardrobe. They hug. They squeeze. They retain heat. They look great on my ass. But it turns out that everyone wears them, and when they shop for them, the butt is the most important part of the fit.
 
Doesn’t mean they’re a spanko though.
 
What next? Are vanilla women also going to wear thigh highs and corsets?
 
Impossible.
 

A Dummie’s Guide to Friends

Frenemy: (n) An enemy disguised as a friend.

 
It was quite by accident that I acquired my first frenemy. I don’t often misjudge people; granting someone friendship has always been a careful undertaking. But this woman…she charmed me somehow and it wasn’t until later that I realized her purpose in befriending me: to use my confidences against me to get me spanked, hard, so she could watch and laugh.
 
As a favor to you, dear readers, I’d like to illustrate via a pictorial, the difference between true friends and frenemies.
 

Frenemies: the ones on the other side of the bars, laughing at you as you’re punished for their misdeeds.
 
 

True friends: those who work together toward mutually rewarding ends.
 
 

Frenemies: those who would watch idly by while you face certain demise.
 
 

True friends: lend you a back to cry on.

 
 

Hope that spares you any unnecessary disappointment and heartache. While frenemies certainly have their place, they can do terrible damage to one’s bottom.
 
 
D & I are on vacation and have limited online access. Be a friend and leave a comment; I’ll reply when I’m able. And that’s not a back-handed promise, I swear.

Cherish, Honor and Obey

I love this charming photo set that I found on the now alive-and-almost-kicking Spankolife. There’s something to be said for starting off on the right foot, leading by example, and setting the expectations early on. This couple, fresh from the chapel, do just that.
 

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Can’t I just skip the whole matrimony part and get right to the wedding night?
 
If anyone knows the original source of these photos, please leave the information in the comments as I would love to give credit.

October girl

It’s my favorite time of year. I am truly an Autumnal type: trouncing through leaves, canoeing on meandering rivers through the hues of purple and gold, hot cocoa and caramel apples.

It’s the season for cozy blankets,

Halloween costumes limited only by your imagination,

knee high boots that have been stored in closets,

handknit scarves in vibrant colors, soft and cozy against your skin,

and cuddling with the one you love.

But beware of offers to draw you some hot water for a bath.

Make sure your bath comes with bubbles.

Am I right?

I do not feel selfish. I do not feel guilty for basking in the pleasurable sensations of being over his knees, or bent roughly over the arm of the couch and rapidly man-handled, each downward stroke of his hand like the plucking of a chord in my favorite rock-a-billy song. 

I know it’s not one-sided — and I think I know what he gets from all of this. I trust you will tell me if I’m wrong.

He gets the warm willingness of a beautiful woman succumbing to his demands.

He gets the freedom to make those demands, able to command in such a way that is impossible outside the privacy of the home (or car, or secluded park bench, or…).

When you are in position and looking questioningly at him from over your shoulder, hair partially obscuring your dilated pupils, back rising with each quick intake of breath, your anticipation is a welcome invitation: do what you will, Sir. And he knows he can take it as far as he’d like, whether it is short and intense, or prolonged and sensual.
When you present your pantied bottom to him, he is free to admire it for as long as he wishes. He can smooth those panties over the cheeks, adjust the elastic so they lay just so, or perhaps he will yank them upwards into a “Y” and expose the blank and quivering whiteness beneath.

And when he begins, he gets to gauge each effect his hand makes. He can admire the fingerprints he creates; he can press and knead your bottom, causing the freshly pinkened area to whiten once again under the pressure. Lifting each cheek in his hand, he can drop them to watch them bounce and then, just as quickly, surprise them with another smack, eliciting a shocked gasp as you suddenly clutch his ankle.

He will, at his whim, scold you or whisper in your ear, knowing that each word makes your heart race in expectation. It is in his power to do so. He owns your reactions. He owns your wetness and luxuriates in knowing that it is he who put the sheen between your thighs and the moans upon your lips.

And when he is finished, when he decides that you have had enough, or that he has taken from you what he wants, he can hold you and smooth your hair, feel the warmth of your bottom press against his thighs as he cradles his most prized possession: your submission.

So, tell me, because I really do want to understand — I really am not a selfish person — am I right? Is this what he gets?

Monday, Monday

I usually accomplish all manner of household tasks on the weekend. But I was away on Saturday and feeling lazy yesterday, so all of those chores have fallen on today, a wicked Monday.

In selecting my clothing this morning, I remembered I had not yet done laundry. I had absolutely nothing appropriate to wear for this hot and humid day.

Determined not to let the tasks ahead spoil my otherwise optimistic mood, I set about checking things off the list.

Laundry: Clothing is washed, now it’s time to dry them in the sunshine. What a beautiful day it is.

Lawnwork: I’ll take advantage of the relative coolness and garden first thing. It’ll be too hot later and, thanks to my Germanic ancestry, I’m liable to burn.

Time to pop inside and cool off with some dusting.

Ah…household tasks complete. Perhaps I should head to the grocery store?

What’s that?

You think I need a spanking?

Well, ok, if you insist. But let me get some clothes on first.

Letter to self

Dear younger self,

Some day soon you will be BOLD. 

You will desire to do things that you didn’t know existed and lead a life that you had no name for.

You will talk to strangers, ALL OF THE TIME. When those strangers call you a “delicious slut”, you won’t be offended — it will be high praise.

Those spankings you hated so much growing up will seem like love taps in comparison to the spankings you now request.

You will be spanked. Often. And you will always want more.

The hottest thing a man can say to you now is, “Get over my lap, young lady.” And instead of sending you flowers on Valentine’s Day, he’ll send you to the corner.

But you will love deeper than you thought possible; you will be loved deeply in return.

Even though your preference will still be mostly for men, you will spend hours on the internet looking at naked women. This will arouse you.

Because of the time you spend in this state of arousal, you have perfected the art of masturbation. You can finish in 2.3 minutes.

In your possession will be a hundred pictures of yourself.

Seventy percent of them will be of your ass in varying shades of pink.

All of these things, these shocking things, make you happy. You are breathtakingly happy.

Oh, and one more thing…when you throw that kegger your senior year of college, don’t get on your bicycle afterward to impress that boy. He will not be impressed by a broken collar bone and will instead make out with your best friend while waiting for you in the Emergency Room.

Hugs,

Miss Pink

Minding her manners

Knees together and bend. Her mother taught her well.

Preheating required

In one of my many attempts at self-improvement, I have instituted a “one-new-recipe-a-week” rule. I love breakfast dinners and will whip up this quick and easy quiche for tonight.

Sausage and Mushroom Quiche

3 large eggs
1 pound small fresh button mushrooms
1 pound ground pork breakfast sausage
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 cup half-and-half cream
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 unbaked 9 inch pie crust

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Prepare the mushrooms by snipping off the stems. Cut in half if large. Use your small wooden cutting board for the job.

2. Crumble the sausage in a large skillet, add the mushrooms, cook on medium-high heat until the meat and mushrooms are lightly browned and all the liquid from the mushrooms has evaporated. Drain off the grease. Add the parsley. Imagine what that big, bad spatula can do.

3. In a large bowl, beat the eggs, adding the cream, cheese and salt. Pour into the mushroom/sausage mixture; blending well. Pour mixture into the pie shell. Lean over the counter, close your eyes and imagine him behind you.

4. Bake in preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes, until crust is well browned and the filling is set. Let stand 10 minutes in the corner before serving.

Wednesday is laundry day here, so be sure to join me tomorrow for my stain-removal tips.

Last apron available at Carolyn’s Kitchen, home of the hottest aprons on the net.

Anatomy of a Spanking

Uh-oh. The evidence of your overspending has arrived, both in boxes and on the credit card statement. Your frivolity, while enjoyable at the time, comes with a price heftier than the impact on your bank account. There’s the look. Now here comes the inevitable lecture.

You can’t help but roll your eyes a bit. After all, it’s YOUR money, too, right? But you are both supposed to be saving for your dream vacation, a romantic get-away full of hedonistic pursuits.

Your eye-rolling doesn’t sit well, and that’s when his sleeve-rolling begins.

Phrases such as, “you need to reevaluate your priorities, young lady”, and, “showing little regard for our goals”, make your gut seize with guilt. And then comes the chair. Followed by the look (again). And you know what’s next.

“You know what’s going to happen, now, don’t you?” Yes, I predicted as much, you think. But instead you apologize and acknowledge that you know what’s coming…a spanking. But hopefully I can keep all of those pretty things, you silently pray.

“And then you are going to return all of this stuff because we don’t need any of it.” Drat. That question’s answered.

He looks you in the eyes and orders your panties down, beginning his session in Money Management 101.

You know there’s more to come later. But it’ll have to wait until after the trip to the post office to mail back all those lovely, yet wholly unnecessary extravagances.