Hallowe'en Sale

Went to the "party" store, they had Halloween stuff at 40% off - I got a rat, an arm, leg, and tongue. The rat and the tongue were motorized. But they charged me full price for the tongue, they said it wasn't a Halloween product.

The End of DST

Okay, I've been saving daylight for six months and I don't even have enough to make it through half a day... sort of like my retirement account...

A (Very) Short Story

In case you didn't notice, I put a new very short story on my story site:

http://mattanglenspankingstories.blogspot.com/2009/09/short-story-amanda.html

I wrote it for the short story contest for the usenet news group soc.sexuality.spanking (soc is for sociology or social or something - following the more judgmental but perfect ASS - alt.sexuality.spanking or some such thing).

Nine years of short story contest archives are here:

http://socsexualityspanking.org/ssc/

At 2-300 entries a year that ought to be over 2,000 stories to keep you busy - with judges' favorites identified...

my personal favorite that I've found so far is the 2002 entry by Bird:

http://socsexualityspanking.org/ssc/2002/b028.htm

Back In the Backseat

well, we're at her place - as are her kids, just a fact of life... but I'm not real comfortable playing, not even quietly. Though, how much of a problem can this present? After all, we all went to high school...

The options for playing in the car are limitless, and I've added a few ideas since graduation, but in this case it's pretty easy - the garage will give us complete sound privacy and her minivan will give us a place to sit and plenty of room.

Despite it being a beautiful summer night, the garage turns out to be approximately the temperature of an automotive engine cooling off and inside the van is no better if not worse. We've had a (very) little wine so we don't want to be driving too far... so we just pull it out and park, idling, at the curb. After waiting for the temperature to drop to a very comfortable level we pull back into the garage, bring the door down, and climb in back without opening the doors to the hot interior air. Hmmm, sort of like Jack and Rose (or Jack! and Rose! Jack! Rose! Jack! Rose!) in Titanic, when they sneak into the car hold...

Though Rose was not over Jack's knee in the far-back bench seat of a mini-van... and she didn't have her head buried in the corner of the seat - nor did she notice for the first time a pull-tab in said corner, nor pull it and have the seatback spring forward and smack her on the head - not the kind of smacking we were looking for.

I've got my hand and my belt, which is always plenty, isn't it? And I can spank hard when I need to... just have to do so at the right time, right? So things are going well, despite the rising heat, which was not all due to us... and she must be enjoying it, she's relaxing with her eyes closed despite being spanked pretty firmly, or being strapped with the belt nicely doubled or even with the wicked single end...

and it's not continuous, I pause now and then, making it last... during one such pauses we do notice that the heat is getting back up there, but all things considered it's a small price to pay, you have to expect some inconveniences.

"And then there's that," I mention as the light on the garage door opener times out, leaving us in a darkness deeper than Kafka's later works. I mean, it is black. She's got her head sort of buried and her eyes closed so she has no idea what I'm talking about. And hey, it's not like I can't find my target, I start back up. At some point she does look up, exclaiming how dark it is. By this time my eyes have been adjusting for several minutes and I can see - absolutely nothing. If I dropped my pants I would not be able to find them, it is still that dark.

And, of course, later we open the side door to get out, turning the overhead interior lights on... completely blinding me with a shock like an interrogation...

but it was a nice cool night and a pleasant trip back into the house...

A Story - The Picnic Table

Fiction? or prediction?

We'd been walking quite awhile without seeing another soul when we finally reached the picnic area, whose existence, frankly, I had begun to question. We started out side-by-side and I'd let her lead a bit going uphill, bearing up under taunts of "come on, old man" for the pleasure and inspiration of her lovely curves.

After not very long I wasn't the only one who was breathing hard and we'd had plenty of ups and downs since then. She'd also grown hesitant of preceding me, and gave the jibes a rest since I was lugging the pack and might start making her carry it. Or maybe it was my threat of finding a switch, or pointing out a blackberry vine with thorns that belonged in a vampire novel, my wide leather belt so inappropriate for summer hiking, or the narrow, thick belt she herself wore which was in no way needed to keep the waist of her shorts from slipping down over the delectable flare of her hips.

"Finally," I sighed, slinging the pack onto the table and digging into it.

"Finally? Why finally?" she asked after taking on half a canteen of water. "Do we have anything to eat in there?"

"Eat? Did we come here to eat?" I asked in return, producing a long coil of rope and a small flag on a long staff of rattan. Two fuzzy jackets were supposedly in case we didn't get back before dark, or possibly autumn.

The picnic table was pretty standard. One jacket went from table edge onto the seat on the right side, padding her knees; the rope went around them, four strands to spread out the strain, dropping down between, under the seat-board and up around her ankles just above her short and very cute little hiking boots. Her shorts were unfastened, enough for now, then the rope went under the seat again, across to the left seat and under it, and back up on the far side for her wrists, the second jacket going under her chin and outstretched arms.

I'm not good at knots but I've gone to a lot of trouble to learn the trucker's hitch, which tightens the load down when you pull on it. I knew it was secure when she said that if I didn't stop tickling her she'd wet herself, twice in warning and once in panic, despite my own warning that such an "accident" would be highly spankable. Working her shorts and panties down was not as trivial as I had predicted but I wasn't feeling a lot of time pressure except from my desire to get my hands on her bottom - it took even longer to work up from squeezing, rubbing and love smacks, which she considers mere teasing, to something with a little more heft to it. We were in a pretty good rhythm for awhile before it was time for the cane.

Wrapping the flag around the staff even padded my end a bit. She likes a lot of little light strokes but needs the hard ones too so I went with the latter. The jackets came in handy because she was managing to move her elbows and hips an inch or two. I slowed down until I didn't have to stop.

I tend to let the cane tip droop a bit on the far side, leaving her with a dark triangle high on her left thigh. The one hard stroke straight across that low left a cane kiss, two dark lines, slightly higher in the center, divided by a thin still-white line. From her tan line I knew it'd be just above the edge of her shorts on the hike back but I'd know it was there. A few minutes of stroking and a few more minutes after that and she'd be ready for one of the belts.

A Little Light Reading

so first of all you have to understand that I have a very recognizable car... two, really. Not just likely to be mine but totally definitely mine... and my office is within walking distance of the local shopping center, which also has the movie theater and is the big local hang-out... in other words, many people I know or work with could quite easily see my car when it's parked a few spaces back from the grocery store - see it and know that it's mine.

That's what worried me, a bit, when we came out of the movie and as I walked up to my car I saw a book in the back seat - not just any book but "Bondage for Sex." Among books to have in the back seat this might be about the least discreet choice - I've got "Shibari" - Japanese rope bondage with a lovely picture of a woman's forearms beautifully wrapped - but if you don't immediately know what Shibari is, you wouldn't notice. However, this wasn't the Shibari book - it's the book that has large, bright, block letters (over a dim background of sexy body parts) proclaiming Bondage! what kind, of bondage (!), you ask? well of course it's Bondage For Sex! - as if there were other kinds... maybe "Of Human Bondage" or some type of social justice novels - but no, not this one, this one is human bondage for SEX!

It seems someone... who shall remain nameless but not unspanked - was reading said book on the trip back from Orange County... and rather than putting it back into the well-filled toy bag, decided to leave it face-up on the back seat...

The Stuff of Legend

For this post it's only fair that I identify the person, at least somewhat - or at least to those who know her. I'll identify her as "my lovely date at the last Shadow Lane party" which ought to be plenty specific enough for anyone who needs to know...

we live three time zones apart so by the time my cell phone goes to "nights and weekends" it's the middle of the night there, but that's pretty much what we worked out... so some of the things she says are pretty sleepy. In fact, she was commenting on this very fact, after heading herself for trouble - you know how everything sounds good when you're far away and safe and you're wishing you could be spanked right then, and a lot, maybe even hard, maybe even a lot hard - so she's saying that brats shouldn't talk to tops when they're sleepy or she might end up asking for something like 400 with the tawse... the tawse being something she particularly hates for some reason...

I hear "400 with the tawse" - a week or so before we get together in Vegas - and I think it's a great idea. In fact, I'm reasonably awake and the numbers click through my mind - 400, that's eleven sets of three dozen - three a day plus one on Thursday night and one on Monday morning. Then we'll only need four more strokes to make it to 400...

Of course the problem with brats - or some of the problems, anyway - is that they talk big and then want to chicken out - and they seem to think they get some say in the matter... so she immediately begins backtracking and complaining and worrying - she said she didn't want it, she can't take that many, it'll interfere with our other play and her party play... silly stuff like that. Meanwhile I keep assuring her that this is how legends are born... "and, at the March Shadow Lane party, on top of everything else, I got 400 with the tawse..."

I guess she did have some cause for concern... she was getting some pretty heavy paddling right off the bat, solid and often... and that tawse can really sting - once warmed up by the paddle I didn't need to use it lightly... three dozen is a good number for a quick spanking, too many to ignore, definitely. I tried to time it so it wouldn't throw her out of any reverie she may have drifted into from other play.

Seems she also got several sessions with the canes, both nice and evil... and at one point hid the paddle to save her bottom for a while - turned into quite awhile... but we pressed on. I think we got all three sessions in on Friday, first thing Saturday and afternoon. With a big party Saturday night and getting to bed after four we were one set behind. Sunday morning we were asleep but easily fit two into the afternoon, bringing us within three of finishing. Of the extra four, three had already been collected.

With her leaving early in the morning our play session Sunday night was long with many intense scenes, so I didn't double up then, knowing how easily we could get in one extra set before heading to the airport at dark-thirty. We managed to wake up - and get up - early enough Monday morning for our farewell play and I laid on two good sets of three dozen apiece - and one more stroke filled our four hundred.

Proving once again that with a little planning and dedication you can give a brat what she asks for...