Spanking the Boss

We had Administrative Assistants' Day this week. In honor of that I am reposting the story of one of my past spanking relationships that I posted on my Yahoo group earlier this week:

At the time I was living in a not-very-large town in southwest
Colorado. It was about a month after I'd left my first husband. I had
moved about 70 miles from where I had lived with my husband, so I had
had to leave my job behind with everything else. At the time I was
frantically looking for a job while trying to put my life back
together out of a single suitcase.

I was headed downtown on the trolley on my way to an interview. I
reached up to pull the cord to request the driver stop and discovered
the cord at my seat was missing. I turned to search the row behind me
for one and found instead a slightly embarrassed looking gentleman
staring at me. He did have a signal cord, though. I asked him to pull
it for me. He managed, while stuttering as he tried to figure out what
to say.

When the trolley stopped he got off, too. He then followed me for
three blocks while asking me about every detail of my life history and
anything else I would tell him. I was actually starting to get a bit
uncomfortable and was very relieved to reach my destination. By the
time I was through he had gone. Thank God!

However, the trouble with small towns is that it is very hard to avoid
people. I ran into him on the trolley, crossing Main Street, in the
drug store and even at the courthouse when I went to drop off some of
my divorce papers.

The other thing about small towns is that everybody knows everything
about everyone and they all talk about it. It didn't take long for my
not-so-tall dark stranger to find out the reason I was always rushing
off somewhere when he saw me was that I was looking for a job. So he
offered me one. He cornered me in front of the fly fishing store on
Main Street and offered to take me to lunch while we discussed the
details. We ended up at a little diner the size of a shoebox while I
picked the tomatoes out of a salad and tried to find a way out of
this. I couldn't, his arguments made too much sense and whether I
liked it or not I really did need the job. So I took it, and cursed
myself all the way home.

He was starting his own landscaping company. He really did need me. He
was great at what he did, but had no clue about the business part of
running a business. I did, and I also had the computer and graphic
design skills he desperately needed. A few weeks later I was running
everything while he tried to line up his first clients and hire a few
people. Things were shaky but we were off to a good start.

It was well into summer by now. Hot and sticky and most days were just
him and me in the office in the mid-afternoon. He'd made it clear from
the beginning that he had more than a professional interest in me.
That was the main reason I had been reluctant to take the job, but
right then a paycheck was a paycheck and he was polite and respectful,
just openly interested. He also reacted to me in those certain
tell-tale ways that indicate a man is responsive to being under a
woman's hand.

I decided the best way to handle him was to slip quietly into Domme
mode while I looked for a better job. I didn't do anything overt, but
changed the way I dressed a bit, changed by tone and choice of words
when I spoke to him, began to carry myself differently. He noticed and
responded very positively.

Then the moment of truth. We had our first semi-large client. I had
custom designed all of our stationary from letter head to our
contracts and business cards. We didn't yet have a printer for the
office so when we needed paperwork I had to go print it out at
kinko's, expensive and time consuming. It also meant we printed basic
blank forms which he then filled in by hand. The trouble was when
trying to fill out this particular contract he kept making mistakes.
He went through 3 copies of the thing and would NOT use white out. He
thought it looked unprofessional. I agreed. Still we were running out
of contract forms. I said "if you mess these up again I'm going to
spank you."

His eyes widened a bit, but he didn't say anything. He just took the
forms to fill out. A few minutes later he came back to my desk and
laid the sheets down in front of me. "I did it again."

He was looking at me. It was that look, the little bit of fear and
anticipation mixed with wondering if I'd actually do it. I closed and
locked the front door, took my hairbrush out of my purse and followed
him into his office. I pulled out a chair, took down his pants and
underwear and put him across my knee. And yes, I spanked him, not too
hard or too long and not to the point of tears, but hard enough to
leave him warm and red and kicking and wriggling a bit. He got up,
held his bottom and gave me a slightly rueful look. Then he kissed me.

Two weeks later we were living together.

I didn't spank him often at the office, though. During the day in
front of clients and associates he stayed in charge. I was quiet and
demure, the perfect, slightly differential assistant. I even called
him by his last name. He still answered to me for his behavior, but it
waited until we got home. Once our front door closed at night our
roles reversed and I was the one in charge. I made sure it stayed that
way.

I preferred to wait until bedtime to deal with his behavior issues. He
would come out of the shower to find me waiting at the foot of the
bed, hairbrush laying next to me. Even when he knew it was coming, he
still paused there at the door, a shocked look on his face. He made
his pleas and promises while I tugged his shorts down, but they did
little good. He still got his spanking. It was the first time I'd
practiced Domestic Discipline with a live-in boyfriend. I didn't know
much about it and I had yet to venture onto the internet, but
instinctively I knew enough to know I had to keep the lines clear and
enforce them.

We didn't last, unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately. Initial
chemistry can't make up for a basic lack of compatibility. Then as so
many new businesses do, ours folded. He moved to Albuquerque for
another job and I moved on. He came up to visit once or twice, but it
just wasn't the same.

Still, how many ladies can say they got away with spanking the boss?

Do Cats Search for the Meaning of Life?

Maggie, our now not so little kitten, typed 42 point number, number, something into my search engine the other day. Anyone who has a cat and a keyboard, or who has ever read a Sneaky Pie Brown novel is used to the idea of cats typing odd things, but it seemed like such a large coincidence that I had to wonder.

Of course it has been widely known that cats have deep interests in esoteric things since Old Possum first remarked on the average cat's habit of spending hours at a time in a state of transcendental mediation so deep it is often mistaken for being unconscious while they search deep within themselves for the truth of their sacred names.

I suppose today's cats are just getting lazy and hope to use the short cuts provided by modern technology in order to be able to skip such labor intensive napping.

I suppose I should have been a bit more suspicious when I caught her having drinks with that pair of white mice. Hm...methinks a deal for 5-D chat shows is in the offing...

Ms. Betty

Why Every Man Should Masturbate

Or at least achieve sexual climax in some way on a regular basis.

Australian researchers have found a link between frequent ejaculations and a lower risk of prostate cancer.

You can find out more about it here

I have long been known to say that in some ways BDSM very much needs to come into the 21st century and that one of the ways it needs to do that is to accept the facts of mens' health. Many people play, or claim to play, prolonged chastity games, often completely unaware of the potential complications involved.

Yes, the ideal is that sexual pleasure should be turned over to solely the Dominant's pleasure and that in the BDSM world being "faithful" is to only come when commanded by them, but we have to live in the real world here, folks. If you live 1,000 miles away from your Dominant and only see Her/Him twice a year that's just not practical.

Some also believe that a submissive without a Dominant should not seek sexual pleasure or masturbate. I strongly disagree. In fact I even encourage the submissives committed to me to masturbate regularly. In this day and age I feel staying and home with your hand or a favorite toy is much safer than risking death and disease by picking up a stranger.

Yes, power exchange is about living the fantasy, but please do it with your thinking caps on.

Ms. Betty

A Daydream...

He's bound to the hook in the ceiling. His hands are tied in front of him, wrapped together at chest height. His legs stand just far enough apart to give him balance. He is naked, the room is dark and behind him somewhere footsteps tap gently on the wooden floor.

The whip moves back and forth like a cat's tail, pushing a breeze across his skin. His chest heaves with slow, deep breaths as he waits. The whip moves closer. Now the tip brushes his bottom cheeks, bringing it's sting. He gasps as the strokes weave across his cheeks. The whip moves faster. He moans. The whip makes no noise, but as each stripe appears they both know a fire is building in his skin.

"Please," he whispers, "please." The strokes land harder. The rhythms changes. Now the lash bites into one cheek or the other. The blows come more slowly, but they burn all the worse. "Please," he moans again. The whip answers; a searing stroke across both cheeks. He lowers his head as the tears come...

The Quirt's a Go

I broke the news to Little Bunny while we were on the phone the other night. I threw it in casually near the end of our conversation; "oh by the way, I've decided to make that quirt."

What followed was several seconds of tongue tied sputtering while my poor little bunny tried to say and think several things at once. At last what came out was "I want to feel it first!"

That's my bunny.

I had told him originally that it would at least next month before I thought about it because time has been short and I didn't think I'd be able to go materials shopping too soon, but while going through some boxes I discovered I already had all the materials I'd need. So the quirt will be born a bit early.

Pics to come as soon as it's finished.

Ms. Betty

The Rhythm of the Tides

I had a long talk with myself this morning.

From time to time this is something well all need to do, especially when things are weighing on the mind with no real solution visible. At these times, if you find a quiet place and let yourself go things have a way of settling in place so that they can be seen clearly.

Today I left the curtains drawn, opened the window and while Enigma channeled through my headphones I let my mind take itself where it willed. immediately I found myself surrounded by the sounds and smells of the ocean. This was not a surprise. For the past several days I have found myself drawn to symbols of the sea: shells, sea salt, video clips of waves freezing on the shores or Antarctica.

I drank in the waves, letting my body lift and fall with their rhythms. I asked myself what I saw. All around were nothing but the blue green waves and the clear blue sky. Looking deeper I saw the pattern of the waves crashing on the shore, and the pull of the tides as they followed the moon. From there I saw the movement of the planet through the solar system and the seasons as they come and go, all of them moving in the same in and out, back and forth rhythm of the ocean.

I thought of my own inner tides and seasons, of the things that come and go only to return again. The questions came:

"Can you wall off the tide from coming in?"
"No."
"Can you stop it from receding?"
"No."
"Natural cycles cannot be changed. They are facts and as any facts we must accept them as we find them, not as we wish them to be."
"True."
"So what's left?"
I shrugged. "Put myself in step with the rhythm. Take it as it comes and let it be what it is. No more fighting it. Any of it."
"Can you do that?"
I didn't answer.

I guess we'll see.

A lesson is repeated until it is learned. I'm hoping today's insight will mean I do not need to go through this particular cycle again, but I may. Knowing is not the same as understanding and even understanding is not the same as doing. There may still need to be a "final exam".

And, I'm not the only one who needs to learn this particular lesson.

Ms. Betty