I'm sure we're all familiar with the old adage, practice what you preach. No-one finds hypocrisy compelling or attractive. I'm thinking of a specific example as I say this; I made the dumb decision to buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke without even thinking of how that makes me look or how disappointed I should have known Princess would be when we had been keeping each other from doing it.
I guess I go through lapses of judgement, and self destruction, and while one moment I'm not thinking or just don't care; I need to be mindful of the effects I have on others. It's selfish to expect something from a sub that her Dom can't do themselves.
I don't know if this will do any good, but I figure public shame is a bit of a punishment in and of itself for hurting her trust in this.
Sorry Princess, and here's to us ever growing and evolving as a couple.
Some years back, I asked a woman who lived on my street if she would give me a real spanking. I didn't know her real well. I would see her and talk to her almost every night when I went for a walk after work. During a naughty conversation, I mentioned that I liked being spanked. She had never spanked an adult before but loved the idea and was a "natural". She gave me a hard hand spanking and paddling while over one of her thighs, then gave me an old-fashioned ass whoopin' with my punishment strap. She tanned my ass good!
Since recently receiving my new 'Punishment Diary' Emma has spared no time in finding fault with me.
After just one week there are two entries, one for some OTK time and the other for 6 strokes of the cane.
With me not seeing my disciplinarian for another 3 months, god knows what will be in the diary by that time and more to the point, what punishment will be in store for me!!!
Hey, here's hoping :-))
When the love someone you feel like you are on her clouds
You want the best for them.
Love is pure and special
It is not mean or violent
It's not fake love
I have loved and lost
The pain you feel in your heart can be unbearable at times
It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all
Meet Leslie Nichols—forty-something, blond and modestly fabulous. She had been quite the dancer in her day, and now she was the owner and head instructor of small ballet school in the downtown district.
She did her best to conceal from everyone the stress she felt at the financial pressures of keeping her dance academy in business. She was a very demanding teacher. That, unfortunately, made her retention rates low. There were plenty of little girls who wanted to be ballerinas, but few who had the fortitude to actually succeed. It was a constant struggle to maintain a quality facility without lowering her standards for the sake of numbers.
And then…there was Bunny. This young woman was a godsend. Not only was she willing to work for the meager wage Leslie could afford to pay her, but she was also tremendously energetic and friendly. The parents loved her. She had a natural charisma, a light in her eyes, a kind of inner spark that made everyone like her.
If only for the boost she gave to the business, Leslie would have loved her to death. But there was more. Somehow, their association had become something more than a business arrangement. Let us skip the details of how it happened, for that is yet another story—suffice it to say for now that they became lovers.
But to say merely that Leslie and Bunny were lovers…that was an understatement. Leslie felt like an explorer in an exotic, faraway land—and Bunny was her seasoned guide. As if clad only in a leopard skin, walking with supple grace, bare feet nimbly gripping the trail as her tawny legs carried her in long, agile strides—Bunny led the way, and Leslie followed, struggling to keep up. Perhaps that sounds like hyperbole, a florid exaggeration of the facts. But it is no exaggeration to say that Bunny had ushered Leslie into a world of sensual delights that she had never before experienced.
Never had Leslie been satisfied by her romantic or sexual experiences with men. She always chalked up to bad luck or bad chemistry. It was always the wrong man, or the wrong time. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was so absorbed—running the dance studio took every ounce of energy she had. There simply wasn’t anything left for romance.
But that changed when Bunny entered the picture. Late one night, when the two of them were closing up the studio, Leslie suggested that they have a drink to unwind.
With a mischievous grin, Bunny said, “I know just the place, if you’re brave enough to go there.”
“And why wouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You seem a little…uptight maybe.”
Bunny stepped close, put a hand on her shoulder and grinned.
“Don’t get your panties in a wad, boss lady. I’m just saying I think you really need to have yourself a drink. You deserve a little down time.”
Bunny looked her in the eye and stepped a bit closer. She was close enough now that Leslie could feel the warmth radiating from her body.
In a quiet voice, Bunny asked: “Have you ever been to the Enigma?”
Leslie thought for a moment.
“I’ve never been there, but I’ve seen it. Isn’t that a…I mean, don’t lesbians go there?”
Bunny laughed. “Oh, they certainly do. But it’s not just for lesbians. Lots of other people go there. You just have to see it.”
Before Leslie could find the words to say no, Bunny grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her to the door.
“Come on, let’s go.”
And Bunny, the native guide, led her on her first steps down a long and winding path into the undergrowth…
To be continued…
I leave it to you, my friends and readers. Would you like me to re-post the rest of the story?
One year ago tonight, I took a big leap of faith and joined SpankingTube, although I had been watching videos here for a couple of months. While I haven't been able to find a fulltime spanker, I have made some very good friends and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything in the world.
to the sorry sad miserable person who sent me a friend request just to hate on my pictures and rate them down, trust i will find out who you are even if i have to delete all the people i just recently added, because of your sorry miserable petty ass.to everyone who may have to be deleted because of this I am sorry.
Now through Valentines Day 02-14-2016 all my videos are on sale. You can see me getting my cum-uppins in each and every one. If they are still out of your price range, feel free to message me and I will do my best to make them affordable for all.....YOU GUYS ARE THE GREATEST....THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT....
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!!!!
It might seem a bit strange that a guy like Jim, an Englishman, should end up in a place like Hicksville, but when you come to think about it, where else would you expect to find him? He spoke Cockney English, with a hint of slow southern drawl, he was lazy as fuck, and the easy-paced life of the Delta just suited him down to the ground.
Jim was about forty years old when our chronicles begin, five feet eight inches tall, He was bald on top and the hair that remained was close cropped but not shaven. He had a long nose, piercing grey eyes and a firm mouth, but the lines on his face and a ready smile for everyone he met, betrayed an innate good humour.
He had been born in London but had left home at the age of nineteen. He took off to see the world, bumming lifts and doing casual work when he had to; not all of it was strictly legal, but he got by. Having tired of Europe, he had worked his passage on a tramp steamer across the Atlantic, rode the freight trains a little and finally ended up in a bar in Hicksville where he had met Mike, who had offered to let him stay for a few nights at his shack near the railroad tracks.
A few days had turned into a few weeks, then months into years. Jim settled in, made friends, and without making a conscious decision to stay, found that he had no reason to leave either. He had applied for and got US citizenship, had eventually made a little money to purchase some land and a trailer on the outskirts of town, which is where he had stayed put.
Although he had been like a fish out of water to begin with, he and Mike hit it off from the start. They began hanging out together and later formed a business partnership to open the Enigma Club, where local folks could go to let their hair down without attracting too much criticism from the law, or their wives/husbands.
Eventually, by making good contacts in the town like Judge Beauregard the town magistrate and Miss Kitty who ran the local cathouse, Jim carved himself a little niche in the hearts of the townsfolk. This was especially true when it became known that the moonshine which he made in the little still behind his shed was the best in the whole county.
Mike was a couple of years younger, slightly taller quite muscular, with dark short hair and a trimmed beard. The local ladies thought he was quite handsome, but none of them quite managed to get him to settle down, and he was virtually a confirmed bachelor. By day he was a teacher of science at the local high school, and by night he ran the Enigma club, which he co-owned with Jim.
A third member of Jim’s circle was a guy known affectionately as “G”. He was a hunter and trapper by trade, who supplemented his income by making “Indian” souvenirs out of carved bone. These he sold through his brother’s shop in New Orleans, where there was a tourist market. Because of his profession, the two guys did not see G quite as often as they saw each other, but when he was home, they would often be found down on the bayou, angling for catfish.
The corporal punishment thing happened pretty much by accident. Jim had a lifelong interest and he found out that he wasn't alone. His first ever client was a lady called Susie who worked for the Town Council as an office manager. She was a fiery kind of woman with a bit of a temper, but deep down she had a kind heart and always felt guilty after getting mad with her staff.
She had met Jim at an Independence Day fete. Her department had been responsible for organising the event; she hadn’t really wanted to go, but she could hardly stay away in the circumstances. She had been sat at a table looking a bit miserable when Jim had come over, sat down next to her and began to chat. The upshot was that he invited her over to his place for a drink in the evening and ……
Well – you get the general idea. The Hicksville chronicles were born in the days when these blogs were a fun place to be. Characters from the STube clientele would often be included in the cast, thinly (or even ot so thinly) disguised as themselves. I have to admit that I have never had quite so much fun on the site as back then, when so many of us were interacting with the various sub-plots.
I am half-tempted to reproduce some of the stories (if I can find them) just to give the corrent readership a flavour of what it was like. Would anybody mind if I did? I think I tried it a while back but it's worth another shot I think.
Best wishes, Jim
Into each other eyes we stare, a test of wills.
Defiantly you stand, your body a bundle of nervous thrills.
Same as yesterday and the days before.
Always brave until tears journey to the floor.
Still you hide behind those last remaining defenses.
Diligently clinging to those old false pretenses.
Struggling on, stubbornly refusing to let me in.
Pain of old wounds cut deeper then the rising color on your skin.
Once more standing eye to eye, face to face.
Wrapping your trembling body in comforting embrace.
You voice your frustration as you continue to pant.
"I want to let you in, but for now I just can't."
Into my shoulder you hide your face and continue to bawl.
Again tomorrow we will carry on until your last walls fall.
You know I have never done this before and you are worried I may be bitting off more than I can chew. I would not dare to approach anyone else with this desire to push myself but I trust you implicitly. And you, though concerned, trust me to tell you if this is more than I can take...so you agree.
You are seated at your desk when I walk in to your office. I am in suit and tie you in a business suit with a skirt slit very high in the back because you know I go weak in the knees when I get a glimpse of the top of your stalkings when you bend over to tease me. You instruct me to remove my coat and to stand rigidly in front of you. You rise, looking me in the eyes the whole time as you stride around the desk then walk behind me. I fell your arms reach around me as you unbuckle my slacks, then unbutton them and let them fall to the floor. Your hand come up and firmly push me over the desk. "Grab the other side please William". I shutter as I comply. You purposely side back around and take a seat so we are at eye level. "William we are going to push you today. I know we have never done this but I want to see what you can take. I am going to give you 6 cane strokes over those briefs then 6 more on the bare. I want you to hold tight to this desk and do not let go." With that you stand and walk to the cabinet behind the desk. You bend over keeping your legs straight so I can see that wonderful round bottom of yours and get a glimpse of your bare thighs over the top of your stockings. You stand still facing away and flex the cane around the curve of your bottom knowing how much I will enjoy the sight. Then you turn and face me.
"I know this is the first time you will have ever felt the cane but I am not wanting to take it easy on you. I want you to push yourself. You have requested this and I am going to do my best to give you an experience you will never forget." With that you walk beside me, flexing the cane to taunt me, swishing it in the air and enjoying watching me cringe. You start tapping the the cane on my bottom, teasing me just a little, line up where you want it to land. You pull back the cane, taking a full swing and it lands right in the center of my bottom.
I have never felt the like, the burn the sting, feeling the line grow on my bottom. I jump to my feet. My hands flying back to clinch my bottom. What have I gotten myself into? Why did I think I wanted this? I know it can stop at anytime but part of me wants this. I want a strict, beautiful woman to help me feel this. I want to make you proud of me. I want to show you that I can take this, I crave you holding me after and feeling the pride for taking this huge step. I tell myself school boys used to take this as a punishment so why am I being a wimp. All this passes through my mind as I am trying to rub the sting away and I hear a chuckle from you. "Stings a little does it now? Do you want to keep going?" I fight myself and reach back across the desk "Yes ma'am please." I can feel your smile with those words. "Very well then, but I need you to hold still for safety" and with that the tapping starts again and my throat grows tight...So much for being brave.
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It was called the Enigma Club – a fitting title because nobody knew how it came about or what it stood for – and we never really did found out. It was Mike’s invention as I recall – a weird cavernous den of iniquity wherein the odd and the outrageous could act out their fantasies.
Within its shabby weather-beaten walls, beyond the flashing neon sign above the entrance, guests were restrained only by their imagination, the odd whipping post or two, some rope or a well greased set of handcuffs. Anything could - and often did - happen.
There were floor shows, dramas, oodles of sado-masochism and depravity - plus copious supplies of the "house" food and drink for anyone brave enough to try them.
The highlight of the week was undoubtedly the open-mic night session, when all the would-be artistic types would regale the audience with examples of their literary talents.
Alas the club has closed its doors and is now inhabited by the ghosts of the people who once made it rock. The open-mic sessions are all that remains.
Mike and Jim sometimes meet in the bar for old times sake; to reminisce about the “good old days” whilst surrounded by the dusty tables and chairs which were once thronged with wild enthusiastic party animals.
Occasionally they may stick a dime in the juke box, or take a stroll around the dining area where some of Daisy's mummified mice (sorry - mince) pies are still to be found behind the counter. They pause to chuckle at the hole blasted in the poolroom door by an irate Suzie who, mad at Jim for having locked her naked in the cold room for over an hour, had come after him with a loaded shotgun!
Oh yes - those were the days all right! So many memories!
It’s all quite sad really.
well... it's been a year since my soul mate took his life.. and somehow it never gets easier.. I moved to st louis missouri, but my family is more divided than ever.. my parents rarely speak to me now, but even when we were on good terms they never listened when I wanted to cry about his death, they hated him. and now, when i need my own sister the most, she thinks only of herself and her needs. its true she has always been a selfish, foolish girl, caring for nothing but herself and her pleasures. Even when she has 4 kids now she still will think only of herself first and her children second. at age 17 i suffered a bad horseback riding accident that damaged my spine, my hip, and several joints and tore a muscle in my left thigh. I am not proud of it and I hate it, but due to lack of funds and good health insurance, I have been stuck on various pain medicine since age 18. That means I have been stuck on pain killers for 6 years, nearly 7 now. since moving to st louis 2 weeks ago i have not been able to get their state health insurance quite yet as i'm staying at a hotel for now with my master. but now i have been out of medicine for several days, and am feeling extremely poorly and in more pain than i'd like to admit. well my sister throws a fit if i don't come over and babysit every monday-friday from 6am-5pm. I am stuck doing the very thing my dr's told me would injure my back further and make it worse, and it is nearly killing me. My sister knows this, but cares only for her. even throwing a temper tantrum like a child and stomping around like a baby and treating me like complete sh*t. well, she's dug herself a big hole and I haven't the strength to fight her out of it. So, I am quite done with my family for right now, I will no longer be helping them out, as they care not for me. I have run myself into the ground and more for them, without even asking for so much as a thank you. but when i ask my sister to so much as throw me a little gas money and babysitting money (5 times less what a professional would charge!) she behaves as though I am the worlds worst sister and that i'm being mean to her and being a bad family member. Well, goodbye for now family.