(Part of the Convent where I went to school).Sr.Agnes paced back and forth at the top of the class.Us Choir girls all sat in our neat uniforms,we all looked like we had just bought new uniforms. "Now girls, you must be on your best behaviour and sing like you have never sung before". I could feel my eyes glaze over,something that tends to happen when I am bored (ask Jen). Sr.Agnes looked down at us with that smile on her face."If the Bishop should speak to any of you,the correct way to address him is ...Your Excellency; do not speak unless you are spoken to",she went on and on. You'll get yours,you bitch,I thought to myself.
It had been three days since I had got my hands whacked by Sr.Agnes for burping in the Cathedral while practicing for the Bishops enthronement. My hands had been so sore after the slapping that I had stayed for awhile in the toilets,putting my hands under the running tap.Now,sitting in the class room and watching her pace back and forth and talk down to us as if we were a bunch of village idiots made me justify my revenge. I did wonder ,however,if I was brave enough to go along with it! The time came to go and we all walked from the convent to the Cathedral.
The crowds had started to gather outside ,awaiting the new Bishops arrival. Sr.Agnes and Sr.Gabriel,the witch,organised us in our places;I was at the back,think they knew that I would get up to something. As the Bishop began to walk up the aisle of the Cathedral we were motioned to sing by Sr.Agnes.Sr.Gabriel was sitting in front of us looking at a prayer book. Well all my choir colleagues began to sing but not me. I had decided to not open my mouth,to not utter a single word in song. Sr.Agnes saw this and for once I could see a look of alarm on her face. She looked at Sr.Gabriel and then at me and then back to Sr.Gabriel who noticed the look of disquite on Sr.Agnes' face. Sr.Gabriel saw that Sr.Agnes was now staring at me. Sr.Gabriel moved swiftly behind me and came so close to me that her black habit pressed against my bum."Sing Karen,or you wil suffer," she said threateningly,I have never forgotten those words. My bravery crumbled and I began to sing.
At the end of the mass the Bishop began to meet people and shake their hands. He approached our choir much to the delight of the two Sisters,the look on their faces was like that of someone meeting their pop idle. The Bishop stood in front of us and congragulated us on our singing. Then he motioned to me to step forward.I did.Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sr.Agnes and Sr.Gabriel cringe!!!
"What is your name ,my child?" he asked.
"Karen", I said,my revenge was back on track.I had decided,in an instant ,not to address him by his title.I knew this was a dangerous course but I guessed it would be worth it.
"And do you like school",he said with a smile.
I could see that the Bishop was beginning to look uncomfortable,but knowing the egos these people have he probably thought that I was in awe of him,hence my apprehensive speech!The Bishop put out his hand and shook mine,I said Ouch! and I think he guessed what had happened. The two Sisters were horrified that the Bishop had chosen,for some strange reason,to speak with me and not one of my star- struck school mates.
The long and the short of it was I ended up in Sr.Agnes' class room again but this time Sr.Gabriel was in attendance. I found myself bending over a desk while Sr.Agnes done her job with a stick and Sr.Gabriel walked around the table calling me rude names and muttering some prayers. I held on as long as I could before my reserve collapsed and I began to scream out.Thank goodness Sr.Agnes slapped me over my school skirt.I was pretty sore afterwards and had a lot of trouble sitting.When I reached home my Mum asked me how school was? "Okay," was my reply!
A few users around here have been dropping hints that they want me to write a new blog. I don't have anything in particular to say so I'll take a stab at being funny. See what I mean? I can't even talk about humour without coming across as violent and/or morbid. If you'd already heard these jokes then I'm curious to as to where. Either way I hope you enjoy.
One night an alien space craft landed in a farmer's field. The aliens got out and were immediately greeted by the farmer and his wife. They took the aliens in, fed them supper, and all around showed the good Earth hospitality. The aliens impressed and grateful decided they would share one of their traditions with the farmer and his wife, partner swapping. At first the farmer and his wife protested. They thought themselves much to conservative for something like that, but then they got to thinking. When else would they ever have the opportunity to have sex with a space alien? So they eventually agreed. Cut to the closed bedroom. The farmer's wife and the alien man are about to get it on. She looks at his penis. "Gee, it's a bit short isn't it?" The alien looked down at his dick. "That's no problem." The alien then pulled on his left ear, and his dick grew longer. The farmer's wife looked at it again. "It's nice and long now, but it's still pencil then." The alien pulled on his right ear, and his dick grew thicker. "How's that?" he replied. It was the best sex of her life. The next morning she came down the stairs and saw her husband at the table sipping coffee. "So how was it?" he asked her. "Oh, not bad, not bad at all." she told him. "So how was the alien woman?" The farmer said, "Oh the sex was great, but she kept pulling on my ears!"
And now for one more.
There was once a magic cow that supported a family. One day the cow up and died, and from then on the family was in dire straights. Out of grief the mother committed suicide. Distraught the father spoke to his sons. He addressed the eldest of the three. "This may seem crazy, but there's a mermaid that lives in the river who has magic powers. I beg you son, please go there and ask her to bring back your mother and the cow." The oldest soon soon left. When he got there he met the mermaid. She agreed to bring them back if he could fuck her 20 times. He tried but couldn't so she drowned him in the lake. Even more distraught over the loss of his son the father asked the middle son to go and appeal to the mermaid to try and get her to bring them all back. He went down there. She said she would if he could fuck her 25 times since it'd take more magic for his brother too. He tried and couldn't so she drowned him in the lake and killed him. In absolute grief the father turned to his youngest son. "Please, please get that mermaid to bring the cow, your mother, and your brothers back! You're my last hope son." So he went to the mermaid. She said, "Well now, it'll take a lot of magic so you'll have to fuck me 30 times, and I'll bring them all back." He replied, "how bout 35 then?" Astonished, she said, "well then how about 40?" The youngest brother looked at her, "make it 45." The mermaid stopped him. "Your brothers couldn't even fuck me 25 times so what makes you think you can?" He looked at her and smiled, "Lady, I was able to fuck that cow 50 times before it finally died!"
Haven't spoken to a lot of you in a LONG time, how is everyone anything new going on?
For myself things are pretty much the same, however, my boyfriend has started playfully spanking me a lot more. Baby steps ;) Hopefully soon i'll be posting to tell all of you that this brat was put in her place.
I've also come to realize, That life without being spanked sucks xD
My birthday just passed, weee and didn't get a birthday spanking so fooey!
But I was very sick so lol it'll be alright xD
Fake is something I"ll never be
here before you stands the real
You may like me you may not,
but its what you asked for,
and what you got.
A basic girl from Ohio
born and raised proud to be.
No one special to you I'm sure
but to some I"m the person, they
I am healthy, educated, happy,
a mother, a daughter, a sister,
and so much more.
Perfect I"ll never be but
what I am is fine with me.
Fake is a word that you will not find
when the thought of me, comes to mind.
For some, being fake is all they know
ashamed of where they will someday go.
I myself have nothing to hide I"m comfortable
with how I feel inside and out.
So nope fake is not for me this is who
I am and will always be it's for those
who hurt inside and some how have lost
all of their pride.
the Goverment is spying on you they know who you cal they know where you live and they know all your kink and porn sites you vist just think if they bust it all out and put it in the papers with names and physical address and phone numbers the divorce rate would sky rocket lawyers in buissness for years thearphyst and domme s and the likes all the things they talked about on nite flirts, i think sucide rate would sky rocket as well all the politicians and cops busted for there own drug deals judges disbard for talking or making deals out of court
crooked bank deals
Has anyone ever had that one particular spanking experience that you just can't get out of your head and want to recapture?
For me it wasnt even the first, the hardest or the best partner.
Maybe it was just the timing and chemistry of a moment.
I am still trying to figure out why some spankings leave a more vivid memory than others.
As I mentioned before, despite what I do today for a living,I hated my schooldays.Every morning was a struggle to get up and go to school and have to listen to the endless praying and endless classes of Geography,Latin,French and so on and so forth. I thought that I would never grow up and leave.
The nuns who taught me were by and large nice people but there were some who should not have been left near a class room.One such nun was Sr.Gabriel,her way of dealing with discipline was quite unique.Any girl who wore her hair in a pony tail usually had Sr.Gabriel pull it or wind the pony tail around her hand,pulling the head backwards.She was a vicious and nasty person.It happened to me more than once.
Well I had the "Smiling nun" for French.Sr.Agnes was in her late twenties and nick named the "Smiling nun" because she always had a smile on her face.It was just the way her mouth was shaped but she looked smug. Sr.Agnes was also the choir Mistress and some of us were conscripted onto the school choir because no one wanted to join...I was one of the unlucky ones.
One day Sr.Agnes informed the choir girls,me included, that we would be singing at the inaugeration of the new Bishop in the city Cathedral. While some were excited the majority of us couldn't care less. A trial run was planned and the choir was taken to the Cathedral to practice and who should be our "minders" ...Sr.Agnes and the dreaded Sr.Gabriel.
Once we reached the Cathedral Sr.Agnes began to get us into order and said that we would begin singing "Veni Creator" the Latin hymn attributed to Rabanus Marus,for those of you among us who like singing.We began singing,our voices soared around the Cathedral but every time the words "Veni Creator" were to be sung I said "Veni Crappers". I could see Sr.Agnes could hear that something was amiss but when I burped and the singing was brought to an end amid much laughter I knew I was in deep trouble.The five girls in the front row broke down in convulsive laughter and were sent to sit at the back of the Cathedral ,to be dealt with when we returned to school.Sr.Agnes asked who made the rude noise..no one answered,there was still muffled giggling going on. Sr.Agnes,smile still on her face,told us that we would all be kept in detention after school everyday until the culprit,(me),would own up. Not wanting to get my school friends into trouble ,I stepped forward. Sr.Agnes told me to report to her class room when we returned to the school.
Unpon returning to school I went,as ordered to Sr.Agnes. She stood in front of me and,still smiling ,gave out to me for my behaviour. She turned away from me and went to her desk,she returned with a ruler. I was ordered to take off my school blazer and stand in front of her. "Hold out your hands,Karen," she ordered,still smiling. I held out my right hand and the force she brought the ruler down with even made her blink.My hand stung like hell,( bit of blasphemy ooopppsss!!). Another slap and another slap.Tears began to sting my eyes and then began to role down my cheeks,but she did not relent. My left hand was next to suffer I remember using "unparliamentary" language which made her slap with such force that I doubled over in pain,clutching my left hand.The ruler came down again and again. Finally she said that I could put back on my blazer and leave.
I apologised to her and quickly left.Outside the room were the five girls who had laughed in the Cathedral.They were next to feel Sr.Agnes' ruler and it was all my fault! I swore revenge and waited for the day when the Bishop would come to the Cathedral.
So my mentor daddymole came over this morning
I was spanked for not going to bed ontime and being risky with my health
Then I was alittle bratty to him when we were drinking coffee after and he spanked me again with the evil hair brush
And I broke the evil hair brush hehe
But I didn't listen to him when he told me to keep it until hr comes by again
I kinda was bratty and threw it in the trash and got spanked again
I don't think I'm gonna be naughty anytime soon
My butt hurts like hell :-(
I posted two new pixs from after the first part of the spanking
Going to bed early tonight cuz I have to be up early for my apointment with my mentor and the hair brush
Maybe if I hind under my blankets he won't find me
Shhhhh! I'm going into hinding!
If daddymole asks where I went......tell him I went to the north pole lol
Ice and pillows are my new best friends :-(
Well I was watching a law and order episode today about bdsm and even though I am not into the lifestyle I have some friends that are and after watching that epidsode I was kinda worried about some of the people that are in that lifestyle. I know that a lot of people that are in that lifestyle and no what they are doing but what about some of the people that are just to obsessed with it and take it overboard like they did in this episode. Some of the stuff I no they do is pretty serious and somewhat disdusting amd racist I just don't no how some people do it. I'm not saying everyone is like that though. Also if people have a question about other people please let that person no instead of putting me in it.Thanks
I like to keep fit so that usually means I can be found walking for miles near the village where I live.I went for a walk last Saturday,the weather was beautiful and I took my usual route;which involves going through the old Franciscan Abbey ,(pictured above). It is so peaceful in there and sometimes I sit and take a few breaths and admire the stone work of the Abbey,I see it everyday and it still has me amazed.In the past it has been my refuge when the Garda have raided the local pub for after hours drinkers and I had to beat a hasty retreat and hide among the ruins.
Last Saturday I noticed a change in the grounds of the Abbey.A sign from the Local Authority had been affixed to one of the walls in the Cemetery.The sign warned that Gravedigging was a dangerous activity and should not be undertaken by unapproved persons.I was horrified,who do these people think we are? Do the Local County Council honestly think that we people living down here actually dig our own graves,I mean what is next a Witch hunt? Although if there was, a certain person sitting across the room from me now would be burned at the stake,but that is for another day.I got the impression that the Council might even think that there are body snatchers in the area. I mean test the logic...someone in an office actually sat down and decided on putting up a sign like this in the old Abbey,all I can say is what a Plonker!!! and perhaps it is time that the Council Manager spoke to a Psychologist or indeed an Exorcist.I mean this is West Cork,we look after our own,but digging graves...come off it!!!
I recently got the outside of my house painted.My brother was press ganged into doing it by Jen and me. There are two reasons why we did not undertake the work ourselves:
1.There would have been ladders involved and one of us was bound to fall off.
2.We just couldn't be arsed!
Well my brother asked me what colour the door should be painted.Red was my decision but Jen said blue.I asked her why blue and when the response came it was vicious.."Because red would make the house look like a brothel," she hissed.
"Well you would feel at home then",I retorted.
"Moron!" she said viciously.
Fearing the enivitable onslaught my brother came up with a proposal. He would flip a coin,heads it would be Red,tails it would be blue. He produced a coin from his pocket.Jen went to the window and looked out at the drive way,at that moment I would have given anything for a base ball bat. The coin was flipped and it landed on....(drum role).....TAILS. "Fuck!" I yelled. Jen had a broad grin reaching from ear to ear.The smugness was annoying so I went into the kitchen and made some tea. The door is now blue.
We were reflecting on some of our best caning sessions and came up with the following that we think helps to create the best. Do you agree?
1. There has to be discussion and an agreed agenda
We have never had real punishment or violence, but we have had sessions with a confession, and a discussion for the most appropriate pay back. There has sometimes also been bribing-you can have that new dress for the party, but you must take 10 stokes the day before and have no pants on during the party. Is it a deal?
2. We always like the idea of stripping off totally naked before the first stroke, sometimes with penalties -go outside in to the garden wearing only your top, stand in view of the window or of course corner time.
3. We sometimes like to leave the severity and number of strokes to fate - turning over cards or shaking 2 dice, the red 1st throw is 1 to 6 on severity scale, then the second dice says how many you have to take. Bending over waiting as the first dice is a 6-very severe, then being almost scared to throw the second dice. What a buzz!
4. Always bend over at 90 or more degrees, either over a table or chair. That way you don't lose your balance as the stroke lands and there is no moving forwards to absorb the force. We don't like taking it laying down or standing.
5. No secret signals to stop or go gentle. The dice, card or agreement has to be carried out in full. The chance to negotiate was at the start, after that, what was agreed will happen-tears or not!
6. The caner not the recipient counts and announces the strokes.-Silence, more silence, calm and then 4!, and then the short time, which always seems longer, before the sting arrives. We never like the receiver going 8, thank you sir, like you see in some vids. Just concentrate on soaking in the bite of the cane, not counting.
7. Afterwards -ofcourse time to cool off in front of the mirror, or sex from behind, still bent over the chair, with a hot bum bouncing off his stomach or worst of all laying on the floor adding carpet burns to an already very sore bottom.
8. We have added a third person a few times,once with Sasha and once with a male trusted friend of Johns and once with another couple. Having someone stare in your eyes while some one behind you is preparing their stroke is very exciting, as is not being sure who it is that will deliver the next stoke.
Any thoughts or comments on our best practice?
Who do I trust?
Who knows what I want?
Who knows what I need?
Who knows what to use?
Who knows never to abuse?
Who knows when to start?
Who knows when to pause?
Who knows when to continue?
Who knows when to stop?
Who knows how to make me cry?
Who knows how much I am to cry?
Who knows how much I need to cry?
Who cares enough to make me cry?
Who cares enough?
Who will take me to my limit?
I've been wondering for awhile what's wrong with me. Most guys look at spanking as a sexual thing but I don't. Oh I know it can be but that's not what I'm into. I don't want a spanking but I need it. It's like air to me. I'm not a normal guy. I know there are a lot of guys who like to receive but rarely do you see them brought to tears. Me? I need tears and unlike most guys or women for that matter it isn't hard to get me to that point. I was spanked as a child but not as much as I should have been. Now as an adult it has become almost an obsession to get my butt blistered every chance I get. Not for fun but for punishment and motivation. I need this to learn and to grow and to be a better adult. It's not something I'm happy about but it just is part of my life I can't get rid of. Male or female it doesn't matter. I just can't get rid of this need.