Check out our new website, Dykespank at http://www.dykespank.com/
Full of stories, confessions, links and other great stuff
tell us what you think here on the blog ...
Tuesday 4 May 2010
Thursday 4 March 2010
Other blogs and links
Here are some other sites we particularly like...have a look and see what you think.....
http://breathingin.blogspot.com/
http://redhotchilibottom.blogspot.com/
http://www.thisthingwedo.com/
http://bottomsmarts.blogspot.com/
More to come soon :-)
http://breathingin.blogspot.com/
http://redhotchilibottom.blogspot.com/
http://www.thisthingwedo.com/
http://bottomsmarts.blogspot.com/
More to come soon :-)
Monday 1 March 2010
The spanking chronicles - my first time
From a guest contributor, the first in a series.
Enjoy !
I am a spankophile. I have been since I was about sixteen. I probably was one before then, but became aware of it at age sixteen, when during a strapping at school, I realised that actually, I enjoyed the feeling.
Now I was beaten at school and often enough. It was unpleasant and I admit I cried through some of them. But then the deputy headmistress had this collection of rather formidable looking straps, and she laid them on hard. I never had a beating that didn’t result in marks to my bottom and some for several days. My first twelve stroke walloping left marks for ten days.
My first hiding was received aged twelve when I was sent down for repeated failure to do homework, three weeks into my first term in secondary school. Spanking is a bit like sex, you never forget the first time.
I had never experienced the formal ritual of facing a senior teacher for serious offences that resulted in equally serious discipline.
First of all preserving my modesty was supposed to be an issue - I really dont know why because there is nothing flattering about bending over a desk or the back of a chair, having your gymslip lifted and you bottom whacked, regardless of how it is covered. At my school this seemed to be an important issue. We all had lockers or carried our gym shorts with us in our bags, so on with the gym shorts it was and off with the blazer.
I got the mandatory lecture about rules and why they exist to maintain a civilised society, consequences and learning from these consequences etc. I was then told to bend over her desk (holding onto the far edge) and it was made clear I was getting four.
I was terrified and when the first one came down hard, I jumped up and started dancing around with hands on my bottom howling like a Zulu impi in mid attack. Soon enough I was told to resume the position and politely reminded that I should remain there until the procedure was complete. I resumed the position, even more terrified as my bottom had already started to glow from the single blow.
No sooner had the strap landed for the second time, was I up and dancing around this time tears streaming and me clutching my bottom in utter horror. I knew that girls would sometimes land extra for non submission, but I suspect that the deputy expected first timers not to cope too well with the experience. This said, it was clear that my performance was taking up precious time so she decided to call in a prefect that was outside in the hallway.
The prefect was instructed to stand on the other side of the desk and hold my arms down at the elbows, so as to keep me in position for the final two strokes.
I recall being unable to stand up, and taking the final two relatively rapidly, which I later learned was unusual for this depute's spanking style. By the time that I stood up, I was completely humiliated, shaken by the shock and my bottom was in real pain. After being allowed to compose myself, I exited her office to be met wide eyed by the next recipient.
It really didn’t make all that much difference because three months later I received my first twelve stroke strapping, having had at least two "minor" (between four and eight stroke) strappings in-between.
It was here that my complex relationship with the belt began.....
Enjoy !
I am a spankophile. I have been since I was about sixteen. I probably was one before then, but became aware of it at age sixteen, when during a strapping at school, I realised that actually, I enjoyed the feeling.
Now I was beaten at school and often enough. It was unpleasant and I admit I cried through some of them. But then the deputy headmistress had this collection of rather formidable looking straps, and she laid them on hard. I never had a beating that didn’t result in marks to my bottom and some for several days. My first twelve stroke walloping left marks for ten days.
My first hiding was received aged twelve when I was sent down for repeated failure to do homework, three weeks into my first term in secondary school. Spanking is a bit like sex, you never forget the first time.
I had never experienced the formal ritual of facing a senior teacher for serious offences that resulted in equally serious discipline.
First of all preserving my modesty was supposed to be an issue - I really dont know why because there is nothing flattering about bending over a desk or the back of a chair, having your gymslip lifted and you bottom whacked, regardless of how it is covered. At my school this seemed to be an important issue. We all had lockers or carried our gym shorts with us in our bags, so on with the gym shorts it was and off with the blazer.
I got the mandatory lecture about rules and why they exist to maintain a civilised society, consequences and learning from these consequences etc. I was then told to bend over her desk (holding onto the far edge) and it was made clear I was getting four.
I was terrified and when the first one came down hard, I jumped up and started dancing around with hands on my bottom howling like a Zulu impi in mid attack. Soon enough I was told to resume the position and politely reminded that I should remain there until the procedure was complete. I resumed the position, even more terrified as my bottom had already started to glow from the single blow.
No sooner had the strap landed for the second time, was I up and dancing around this time tears streaming and me clutching my bottom in utter horror. I knew that girls would sometimes land extra for non submission, but I suspect that the deputy expected first timers not to cope too well with the experience. This said, it was clear that my performance was taking up precious time so she decided to call in a prefect that was outside in the hallway.
The prefect was instructed to stand on the other side of the desk and hold my arms down at the elbows, so as to keep me in position for the final two strokes.
I recall being unable to stand up, and taking the final two relatively rapidly, which I later learned was unusual for this depute's spanking style. By the time that I stood up, I was completely humiliated, shaken by the shock and my bottom was in real pain. After being allowed to compose myself, I exited her office to be met wide eyed by the next recipient.
It really didn’t make all that much difference because three months later I received my first twelve stroke strapping, having had at least two "minor" (between four and eight stroke) strappings in-between.
It was here that my complex relationship with the belt began.....
Sunday 28 February 2010
Bad behaviour has dire consequences.....
I have been a bad girl and you have had just about as much as you can tolerate. It’s time to enforce a little discipline. I had it coming.
You explain that uncorrected misbehaviour escalates and that it needs to be nipped in the bud. I am guilty of multiple offences and this warrants severe punishment. I am to understand that you love me and that is why this is necessary. If you didn’t love me you wouldn’t care what trouble I could get myself into.
Firstly I am guilty of theft, worse so of something that is not a necessity. Chocolate is a luxury and thus I intentionally deprived another of a personal pleasure. Not once but several times, showing little remorse. If remorse does not come of its own volition then it can be extracted from a very sore bottom!
Secondly I have procrastinated over doing jobs that affect the entire family and planning for our future. Again no remorse, just excuses.
Thirdly trying to make excuses is effectively being deceptive and is equivalent to lying. This you will under no circumstances tolerate and have allocated a specific punishment for this. I am to wait and see.
Finally being in a loving committed relationship, just thinking of masturbation let alone actually indulging in the practice is time wasting and a waste of sexual energy that can be enjoyed by both partners. You are tired of catching me with my hands in knickers and I need motivation to stop this unnecessary distraction.
You tell me to bend over your knee and you lift my skirt up, raining a thorough hand spanking on my bottom that takes me completely by surprise. Once you are satisfied that my bottom is warm enough, you stand me up and instruct me to kneel on the bed, with my bottom pointed high up in the air. I have to look down or forward and may not turn to look at you, unless told to.
I receive twelve hard lashes of the belt across my already very warm bottom with no more than five seconds between each stroke. I move out of position during these and you explain for disobedience I shall receive extra. You dish them out extra hard as a reminder to pay attention and accept my just desserts. You’re doing this for my own good and I’ll be grateful for it one day.
I start to get up, but you remind me quickly that you didn’t give me permission to get up and that I am to remain in position until given permission to do otherwise. You leave the room and I hear you pottering about elsewhere, filling the kettle up and cups and spoons clinking in the background. The wait seems endless. You return to find me twitching in anticipation. I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
You gently raise my skirt over my back and pull my knickers down to my thighs. Slowly you examine the space between my legs discovering the tell tale moisture that is evidently increasing. When I reply in the negative after you ask me whether I’m enjoying myself, you inform me that clearly this is a lie and you had made it clear that deception and dishonesty will not be tolerated and the punishment for this will now be increased!
But first you have to deal with my dirty little sexual habits. I remain in position as you return my knickers to their place and draw my skirt down. I am ignorant of what’s about to happen as I face down into the pillow before me. Suddenly I stiffen as I hear a swishing in the background as you ensure that the next implement is ready and supple enough for its job. I am reminded to stay in position and moving out of position will result in extra’s. This is followed by six relatively swift strokes of the cane. They are applied swift and hard but not full force. You intend to leave marks, not scars. By the second stroke I am squealing; you are telling me not to be such a coward, its meant to hurt and the closing stroke is applied extra hard leaving me in tears. You apply any extra’s to make your point, instructing me to remain in position.
I cannot believe that this is happening to me. I promise to behave, to do better, not to let you down, I tell you that it hurts too much, that I can’t take anymore. You tell me softly that you’ve heard it all before and that as you said earlier, it’s meant to hurt and it’s not an issue of what I can take, but what you can give me. You’re watching closely, as long as I’m squealing, I’m breathing and that means I’m ok which means you’re ok to continue.
Your hand wanders over my very sore bottom. You love my bottom you tell me and that it pains you to have to discipline my rear end like this. You rub and soothe, followed by lifting the skirt up and I am filled with dread as you pull my knickers down and inspect again for tell tale signs. My underwear is no longer damp but decidedly soaked. You feel my clit which is clearly sensitive to the touch has swollen and you tell me to keep quiet and keep still while you inspect it or else I will get more than I bargained for! You deliberately rub gently with your fingers in an attempt to elicit a response from me, but I try very hard to tolerate the sensation, then as you withdraw I twitch, and you ask me if I enjoyed it? I say no and you promptly decide this earns extra for so obviously lying yet again.
I star to cry again as you inform me that my special punishment is about to begin. You expect that if I am truly remorseful, I’ll accept it like a well bred young lady. Again you leave the room for a minute presumably to drink a cup of tea and return a while later, my sore bottom still presented for punishment.
You tell me to compose myself and prepare, I hear you move and feel an almighty leather crack across my bottom. I straighten my back begging for mercy, catching sight of a thick leather tawse in your hand. You tell me to get back into position and behave, I’m in enough trouble as it is. I obey albeit reluctantly. Another five crash down on my bottom with minimal intervals in between and I’m in searing agony, begging you to stop. All I hear is you informing me that I am reaping what I have sown. I am informed to prepare for the final six of the special punishment as you ask me if I think you really enjoy this. When I answer in the affirmative, you are clearly annoyed and lay them on extra hard.
You stand back, inform me that I am to compose myself, and join you after you have left the room.
I do this and join you suitably chastised. I thank you. You give me a hug, cuddle me close and allow me to express my remorse by expressing my gratitude in whichever manner the moment provides.
You explain that uncorrected misbehaviour escalates and that it needs to be nipped in the bud. I am guilty of multiple offences and this warrants severe punishment. I am to understand that you love me and that is why this is necessary. If you didn’t love me you wouldn’t care what trouble I could get myself into.
Firstly I am guilty of theft, worse so of something that is not a necessity. Chocolate is a luxury and thus I intentionally deprived another of a personal pleasure. Not once but several times, showing little remorse. If remorse does not come of its own volition then it can be extracted from a very sore bottom!
Secondly I have procrastinated over doing jobs that affect the entire family and planning for our future. Again no remorse, just excuses.
Thirdly trying to make excuses is effectively being deceptive and is equivalent to lying. This you will under no circumstances tolerate and have allocated a specific punishment for this. I am to wait and see.
Finally being in a loving committed relationship, just thinking of masturbation let alone actually indulging in the practice is time wasting and a waste of sexual energy that can be enjoyed by both partners. You are tired of catching me with my hands in knickers and I need motivation to stop this unnecessary distraction.
You tell me to bend over your knee and you lift my skirt up, raining a thorough hand spanking on my bottom that takes me completely by surprise. Once you are satisfied that my bottom is warm enough, you stand me up and instruct me to kneel on the bed, with my bottom pointed high up in the air. I have to look down or forward and may not turn to look at you, unless told to.
I receive twelve hard lashes of the belt across my already very warm bottom with no more than five seconds between each stroke. I move out of position during these and you explain for disobedience I shall receive extra. You dish them out extra hard as a reminder to pay attention and accept my just desserts. You’re doing this for my own good and I’ll be grateful for it one day.
I start to get up, but you remind me quickly that you didn’t give me permission to get up and that I am to remain in position until given permission to do otherwise. You leave the room and I hear you pottering about elsewhere, filling the kettle up and cups and spoons clinking in the background. The wait seems endless. You return to find me twitching in anticipation. I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
You gently raise my skirt over my back and pull my knickers down to my thighs. Slowly you examine the space between my legs discovering the tell tale moisture that is evidently increasing. When I reply in the negative after you ask me whether I’m enjoying myself, you inform me that clearly this is a lie and you had made it clear that deception and dishonesty will not be tolerated and the punishment for this will now be increased!
But first you have to deal with my dirty little sexual habits. I remain in position as you return my knickers to their place and draw my skirt down. I am ignorant of what’s about to happen as I face down into the pillow before me. Suddenly I stiffen as I hear a swishing in the background as you ensure that the next implement is ready and supple enough for its job. I am reminded to stay in position and moving out of position will result in extra’s. This is followed by six relatively swift strokes of the cane. They are applied swift and hard but not full force. You intend to leave marks, not scars. By the second stroke I am squealing; you are telling me not to be such a coward, its meant to hurt and the closing stroke is applied extra hard leaving me in tears. You apply any extra’s to make your point, instructing me to remain in position.
I cannot believe that this is happening to me. I promise to behave, to do better, not to let you down, I tell you that it hurts too much, that I can’t take anymore. You tell me softly that you’ve heard it all before and that as you said earlier, it’s meant to hurt and it’s not an issue of what I can take, but what you can give me. You’re watching closely, as long as I’m squealing, I’m breathing and that means I’m ok which means you’re ok to continue.
Your hand wanders over my very sore bottom. You love my bottom you tell me and that it pains you to have to discipline my rear end like this. You rub and soothe, followed by lifting the skirt up and I am filled with dread as you pull my knickers down and inspect again for tell tale signs. My underwear is no longer damp but decidedly soaked. You feel my clit which is clearly sensitive to the touch has swollen and you tell me to keep quiet and keep still while you inspect it or else I will get more than I bargained for! You deliberately rub gently with your fingers in an attempt to elicit a response from me, but I try very hard to tolerate the sensation, then as you withdraw I twitch, and you ask me if I enjoyed it? I say no and you promptly decide this earns extra for so obviously lying yet again.
I star to cry again as you inform me that my special punishment is about to begin. You expect that if I am truly remorseful, I’ll accept it like a well bred young lady. Again you leave the room for a minute presumably to drink a cup of tea and return a while later, my sore bottom still presented for punishment.
You tell me to compose myself and prepare, I hear you move and feel an almighty leather crack across my bottom. I straighten my back begging for mercy, catching sight of a thick leather tawse in your hand. You tell me to get back into position and behave, I’m in enough trouble as it is. I obey albeit reluctantly. Another five crash down on my bottom with minimal intervals in between and I’m in searing agony, begging you to stop. All I hear is you informing me that I am reaping what I have sown. I am informed to prepare for the final six of the special punishment as you ask me if I think you really enjoy this. When I answer in the affirmative, you are clearly annoyed and lay them on extra hard.
You stand back, inform me that I am to compose myself, and join you after you have left the room.
I do this and join you suitably chastised. I thank you. You give me a hug, cuddle me close and allow me to express my remorse by expressing my gratitude in whichever manner the moment provides.
First post
Wach out for some really interesting stuff coming your way from our new blogsite
from the spanking dykes :-)
from the spanking dykes :-)
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