A Laurel and Hardy Hand … Spanking

“Stanley, I don’t believe you’re going about this in the proper manner.”

“I hate to disagree with you, Ollie, but this young lady cadged my cup of tea practically right from under my nose and she needs a jolly good hiding, so bog off and find your own girl. Hmf!”

Two of my favorite people engaged in one of my favorite activities, something I never imagined I would see. (Thank you, Richard Windsor.)

Gwen, please note Mr. Hardy’s well polished oxfords, and also Mr. Laurel’s stylish spats. Her heels are quite chic as well so no footwear faux pas here.

Her shorts are quite becoming too, as is her look of absolute … glee? Can that be right?

Perhaps Stanley will need Oliver’s help with the jolly good hiding after all.

Highjacked: Anticipaaation …

Its so not fair when a good girl plays the wickedest, naughtiest Cabbage Night trick on a big handsome man … the most mischievous, *awesome* trick in the world … a trick worthy of a smokin’ hot spanking … and she’s counting the days with that dreaded thrill you have when you know what’s coming to you and…

he gets the flu. LOL.  Nuts.  … Patience.  Where can I get some?  ;)

xoxo

The Falcon – A Sort of Halloween Post

(With apologies to E.A. Poe and to M. Anthony who really likes reading the original every Halloween.)

The Falcon

A Parody by Devlin O’Neill

Once upon a midnight beer-y, while I maundered, bleak and dreary,

Over a list I’d written of stuff to buy at the grocery store –

While I puttered, mused and muttered, stealthily there came a yapping,

As of Corgis briskly lapping, snapping at my chamber door.

“’T’is the neighbor’s dogs,” I grumbled, “snapping at my chamber door –

Only this, and what a bore.”

Glad indeed I wasn’t sober, for this was in late October,

Yet could the whirring fans not dry the sweat that dripped from every pore.

Vaguely still I felt the longing – longing deep, and deeper more,

Grocery list of no availing – thinking of my fond Adore,

Reaching for her, grasping, yearning, fearful not, yet still a-burning,

Burning for my fond Adore.

Then onto my terrace balcon’d flew a swift and eager falcon,

Brown and quill’d and talon’d, speedy messenger from foreign shore.

Grim he looked with eye of blackness, yet I knew no turning backness,

I braced the bird as though I had inkling as to what lay in store,

“Art thou come to give me tidings, tidings from most distant shore?”

Quoth the falcon, “Make her sore.”

“This is not an answer, surely! Make your meaning known more purely!

“What communication have you from the girl whose name I call Adore?”

Reached out did I very softly, yet my hand did he deplore,

Snubbed he too the bit of steak that I offered him from my private store,

“Speak, I pray thee, noble falcon! Tell me now what went before!”

All he said was “Make her sore.”

“Know thou not I see this clearly, as I hold her name most dearly,

“That ever and forever I would do as your cryptic words implore?”

And then the falcon, nodding merely, seemed to sigh and shrug most clearly.

“All right,” I said, “The task’s before, and go I to her chamber door.”

He flew away and left me calm, a gloried itching in my palm,

“Got it, Falcon – make her sore.”

 

Highjacked: Mischief Night

The night before Halloween is known by various names around the United States and the world. Devil’s Night, Cabbage Night, Gate Night, Trick Night, Mizzy Night, Goosey Night (I love the sound of that!) to name a few, and growing up in Northern New Jersey we called it Mischief Night. The custom is for youngsters, usually teenagers, to play pranks and commit good-natured mischief in the neighborhood. When I was a young teen it was a favorite night for my friends, and the mischief we caused was mostly rained upon ourselves and in a form closer to mayhem than mischief, often resulting in fist fights. Throwing eggs at windows and cars quickly turned into food fights among ourselves. 

Shaving cream on a paper plate was stiff armed into faces with such force bloody noses were oftentimes the result. Flour socks (flour poured into a knotted sock which would leave a white mark upon its target) were packed tight and hurt like hell when someone took a full swing at your back or even worse at your head. Even at that early age I loved smacking a girl’s behind with my flour sock leaving a white mark on blue jean clad cheeks, which I could only hope one day would be replaced by my red hand print on the girl’s bare bottom.

 

My egg throwing days and ringing doorbells then running are behind me, but now I deal with a different sort of mischief. Being on the receiving end of bratty naughtiness by a very special someone in my life and also the cheeky girls on this blog.

So, thankfully my youthful dream did come true and I have replaced my flour sock and left a deeper mark by not only spanking naughty girls but affecting them in the most squirmy of ways. 

 ~Michael  

Highjacked: Better?

How’s this?   

 

Highjacked: Ooops …

 

We’ve hit the 800,000 visitors’ mark but we didn’t plan a witty, celebratory post ahead of time.  (Did we?)

Ummm, errrr … please stay tuned for a very clever celebratory message that I’m sure is being worked on by Uncle D. and/or Michael.  She said hopefully. 

xoxo

Highjacked: We’ve Moved!

The new downtown location of the Devlin O’Neill Weblog office!  *G*

Flash Fiction Friday

“What are you doing, young lady?”

“Getting ready for bed.”

“And ruining your panties while you’re at it.”

“Why not? You stretch them horribly with those big sausage fingers every time you … no! I don’t want a spanking! Please don’t OW! OW! OWEE!”

“You’re not to wear any tomorrow, missy.”

He took her in his arms, patting her sore red bottom, and she screeched fulfillment to the heavens after only a moment. Later he told her to sleep, but she could think of nothing except going to work next day in her stylish suit, high heels, and no knickers.

On the Obedience of Bottoms

Photo credit: Girls Boarding School

Lately I have assigned a lot of homework. That’s what professors do, some of them, some of the time, and they expect the homework to be completed on schedule, although even in the vanilla world that isn’t always the case.

However, with one exception all the assignments I’ve given the past few weeks have been done more or less to specification and more or less promptly, with some even handed in early. There is no reason on earth I should have expected compliance, and since none of the girls to whom I assigned the work are within arm’s reach, not following through or even not accepting the assignment and telling me to bog off in the first place would have had little or no consequences, as such are measured in the world of this thing we do.

Photo credit: Girls Boarding School

No one wants to do homework, not school homework and not professional homework. But not doing professional homework, completing the budget, finishing the redesign of the widget assembly line flow chart or what have you, has consequences in the vanilla world that are far worse than anything one might imagine being awarded around here, like losing your job.

And failing to do one’s homework in school, the higher education sort of schools our readers attend, could have even worse consequences, such as losing your grant money or having to wait another six months to have your article refereed, assuming you didn’t blow your one and only chance already.

So I had to wonder why several grown up girls hereabouts hustle and in some cases scuttle to complete their assignments, albeit grumpily and with much pouting and complaining beforehand. In one instance the student – if she’s writing what I tell her to she is in fact my student – forewarned me that she never, ever had done anything like this in her life and wasn’t sure she could do it at all, but then she did, and very well. I wasn’t surprised but she was, and said it was my strength that allowed her to carry it off.

Again I had to wonder – am I so irredeemably bossy girls can’t help doing what I tell them, or do my expectations simply amount to a self-fulfilling prophecy?

Drawing credit: Aston

I always expect the best of people I know, and certainly of the people I know who do this thing we do, and rarely am I disappointed though it does happen. Then too, the girls who are into this thing we do are willing and hopeful to please. That isn’t unusual, and I maintain that all people want to please someone.

Even an unrepentant narcissist such as Greg House wants to please someone, in most cases himself, and by extension, from his perspective, to please the whole world by making people around him look like idiots because they can’t see problems with his penetrating acumen, and thereby make himself the object of their grudging admiration. Fortunately I don’t have to deal with the Greg Houses of this planet, but still if one is to expect obedience one must tailor one’s demands to the specific person of whom one expects it.

Obedience is not the same as compliance to coercion. I have to pay taxes, buy auto insurance, and keep more or less to the speed limit or I could wind up in jail, or worse, not be able to drive the Firebird. That doesn’t make me obedient, simply compliant under threat of sanction.

Obedience is doing what the other instructs regardless of threat, and because there is delight in acquiescence, a personal reward for doing what the other requires. That reward usually takes the form of approval from the other, though also there is the satisfaction of accomplishing what one might not have otherwise, that is, without prodding by the other.

There is compliance that is in fact obedience in the context of this thing we do, and also compliance that is not obedience. A girl will do what I tell her if that’s what she wants as well – to write an essay she perhaps is too timid to write except on orders; to come across my lap and have her bottom rosened by one who is frightfully good at it; to bend and present her behind to my belt or cane, or to stand quietly in the corner where I put her, whining and foot-stomping notwithstanding.

Photo credit: DDF

To comply in that way is an outward show of obedience, except that in most of these cases she is not obedient to me so much as to her own wants and needs. True obedience is doing these things against her will, acceding to my requirements rather than her own. This is a fine distinction, though telling.

Of course not every man or every Top can elicit even outward compliance from the girls around here. I acknowledge that I have certain abilities and more so a certain authority by reputation – since he has written it and lived it and sorted out dozens just like me over the years, a girl might think, then he must know what he’s doing and I want to experience that.

And although this thing we do is based on consent, paradoxically the appearance and sensation of non-consent is important to many, myself included. Certainly I can and have spanked girls simply because that’s what both of us want, but even at parties, where spanking is mostly play, the spiciest and most fulfilling engagements have the added zing of sorting out a truly naughty girl.

Photo credit: Unknown

I have spanked Erica Scott, for instance, on several occasions and for long periods of time together, yet my fondest memory of spanking her is right after she knocked my hat off in front of two dozen witnesses at a party.  I of course did exactly what she expected and wanted, which was to grab her and throw her across my lap and smack her bum as hard as I could, though not for very long because I had just finished spanking another girl on-stage for 13 continuous minutes and was a bit knackered.

But instances such as that might not qualify even as compliance, since Erica had the choice not to knock my hat off, and in any other venue my manhandling of her would have been seen as nothing short of assault. In any event, there was no hint of obedience in that interchange.

However, at another party, one where I spanked a girl repeatedly and for long periods of time playfully – rough play admittedly but play nonetheless – the girl eventually managed to aggravate me through carelessness and I punished her, something I rarely do at parties. We only had met in person the day before and she scarcely knew me, but she complied, with some trepidation since she never had seen me aggravated before, when I ordered her to bend for quite a strict belting on her bare behind.

In that case I have to believe she not only complied but obeyed when I picked up my belt and told her to bend over, because at that point the dynamic changed dramatically from play – her wants and mine in concert – to only my wants, and what I wanted at that moment was to punish her for being careless and causing me annoyance.

Photo credit: Unknown

I gave the girl a very sound thrashing, and later she said the episode was a highlight of her weekend because I meant it, every leathery lick, and because it was true punishment, which put her in a very different mindset, as it did me. When a girl who does this thing we do acquiesces and gets spanked, in most cases she still is in control, that is, she allows a guy to spank her.

But if and when the guy punishes her for something real she has done, then the interaction shifts, becomes from her standpoint more than compliance, acquiescence, allowing, and his authority becomes much more real and much less role-play of the ‘I’m a Top, you’re a Bottom, let’s do it’ variety.

And then too I want to make her sorry for what she did, how she messed up, and she wants to be made to feel sorry for messing up, and to atone for her error in the most traditional and, to the majority of my readers and me certainly, most gratifying manner possible for both of us.

So the girls round here, most of them, know they are going to get spanked whether they obey or not, which in effect gives them license to disobey, though not, in most instances, to refuse compliance. That’s different from obedience, as I have established.

But then there are girls who sometimes comply, sometimes obey, and always attempt to give the appearance of acquiescence, which is to say they always attempt not to get caught in noncompliance. Girls of this sort are not at all rare in the world at large, and I have to think a great many folks, male and female, our people and vanilla alike, share that trait to some extent – I’ll just see how far I can push him before I get called to account.

Most of us outgrow that urge eventually, and even girls who still practice within the limited scope of this thing we do know not to push quite as hard in the real world, but for some girls disobedience, boundary testing, and envelope pushing is so ingrained that it is literally their second nature.

Such a girl, a boundary tester, an envelope pusher, one who is disobedient by nature and yet still by dint of life experience unaccustomed to being called to task for any indiscretion, and moreover convinced she can wheedle or excuse or weep her way out of the kind of punishment she so needs but by no means wants, is the one who never will be convinced that obedience is her best course of action unless and until that punishment is forthcoming and stringently applied.

This type of girl holds a deep aversion to chastisement in any form, corporal punishment being somewhat the least of them. She would rather be spanked, though that not at all, than scolded seriously or forced to stand in a corner or made to write lines, because any and all those punishments put her exactly where she doesn’t want to be – embarrassed and ashamed before an authority figure, a place she has avoided all her life.

A girl like this will comply with all her might to superficial requests, to mundane directions. She will work tirelessly at vanilla tasks, cooking, cleaning, writing 5-year plans for a multinational corporation, but tell her to go to bed at a certain hour and her Top will have a major fight on his hands because she would rather chew glass than obey such a childish order.

Rosaleen Young at Spank My Bottom

Some readers might think that she balks at her bedtime simply to receive the inevitable spanking that follows, but the girl never will believe that it’s inevitable, never will believe she cannot wheedle or excuse or weep her way through, past his objections to her staying up late for one more TV show, one more phone call, one more tour round the blogs to see who posted what.

She simply can’t believe that he can’t be swayed, that his will is stronger than hers, her will that for so many years stood her in such good stead and kept her from any sort of harm to her dignity, her pride, her bottom – unscathed or nearly so until she met him.

And even then, after the umpteenth time being spanked soundly, and fearsomely scolded for her stubbornness, and tucked into bed beside him, she feels warm and cozy if a bit sore behind, but not at all obedient because he made her do it, made her bend over to get spanked, and made her get into bed. She scarcely can keep her eyes open, and yet she yammers on about this and that, needlessly and heedlessly, refusing to sleep until he shuts her mouth with his, and lights a fearsome fire in her of another sort entirely.

She loves that he can do that – punish and protect her from herself, while still making her feel delight. Yet the next night the scenario will play out again, because just as her faith in him is strong, her disbelief is stronger. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she thinks he simply can’t repeatedly and for long periods of time thwart her will with his, make her bottom red again and again, make her squirm with his scolding, and make her comply if not obey.

Still she wants to obey. Sometimes she thinks she does, but all too often it’s mock obedience she evinces, a faux compliance to his commands, an instruction partially or haphazardly completed, just to see if he is paying attention.

But of course, to her everlasting shock and dismay, he always finds her and calls her out, makes her stand before him to endure and quail beneath a proper telling off, and then – she never, ever can believe it – the really, truly, awfully hard spanking with her knickers down, except if she has been very bad and then he makes her stand in the corner – HER corner he calls it – for an ungodly amount of time before he even does that other horrid thing, the horrid beast!

Photo credit: PHS Photography LLC

And then, sometimes, after lotion and cuddling and kisses, she feels very, very obedient, and does something with her mouth that they both like very much. Except such a thing really isn’t obedience because she would do it whether he asked or not.

Obedience is in doing what a girl truly rather wouldn’t – bending over and putting her elbows on the bed when he has the belt in his hand; facing the wall in the hateful corner but a little glad because she can’t bear to meet his baleful gaze; keeping still as possible and making herself as small as possible when he puts that nasty thermometer where it’s got no business going.

Such are the forms of obedience. Whether or not the form has substance depends on a variety of factors – the individuals, the situation, the ethos, the morals, whether a birch rod and a peeled ginger root happen to be involved.

Obedience and compliance are two sides of the same coin, and it is up to each Top and Bottom whether it lands head or tail, and I’ll leave you to make your own pun on tail. The key to being a good Top is to persevere, to be persistent and consistent, and to have patience.

As to Bottoms, I’ve known very few who have patience, though a bit of consistency is always welcome. Comply if you can, and be obedient when you must, and with a little luck and charm and finesse your Top, of the moment or of a lifetime, will hold your price above pearls.

Enough said.

Devlin out.

Highjacked: Pretty Girl!

F/F spankings aren’t my cup of tea but this photo is so pretty I just had to post.  Dita rocks. 

xoxo