Thursday, July 26, 2012

A deserved spanking

Frieda and Fin Noose were lying in bed. She was comfortable spooned from behind by Fin. His hands were resting protectively over Frieda's growing stomach. She was four months pregnant with their first child. Besides worrying about names, they also discussed how they wanted to rear any future children. Frieda knew a little bit about Fin's upbringing and had seen the result of discipline netted out by his parents. He had told her about some of the spankings he had received as well, and it seemed mostly they were unfair. Frieda had rarely been punished physically and didn't want to get started with their son or daughter. Fin and she hadn't spoken about how he was feeling about administering a walloping. Frieda could guess the answer, but wanted to be sure. Before asking how he planned to treat their offspring, she asked: "Fin have you ever been punished fairly?" Fin thought for a while. "Cutting class, because I was grieving - no, spitting my grandfather into the palm - maybe, stealing, if I've done it - yes, for talking back - no, breaking a window and lying about it - too harsh in my opinion. I can only think of one another spanking I might have deserved." "What did you do?" 'It was more of a case what I didn't do." "Don't keep me in the dark, honey." Fin smiled and inhaled deeply, smelling the fruity shampoo Frieda had used earlier, when she washed her hair. Talking about the caning wasn't easy.
"Well, I was maybe eleven or twelve. It was a spanking my father administered alone. My mother was on a business trip." "Mhm." Frieda said, trying to encourage Fin to continue. "My parents and I were at loggerheads. I was sure I didn't have to study for my math test. My parents disagreed. They were right. Instead of my normal A or B grade I received a C. The first time we simply had a discussion about hard work and where I would end up, if I didn't get good grades. The second time they were getting impatient and threatened to "cure" me of being lazy." "I guess it made you more rebellious." "Definitely. Anyway the third time my grade had further deteriorated. Of course Mom and Dad weren't pleased." "They spanked you?" "Not this time. Somehow I managed to wriggle myself out of the situation, but they made it clear, should I ever come back with a C or lower until the end of the school year, I would be caned each time I had a bad grade." "Wow, that's quite tough." "Yes, no doubt about that." "Didn't you take your parents serious? I mean, they had spanked you for earlier offences..." "Hm, let me think about that. It was the stupidity of the young, I guess. I believed I didn't have to learn to achieve good grades, even though, the whole opposite was true. Based on that believe I was sure I would have at least a B at the next test. I was wrong. When I received the test back I got a D. I knew then, I was done for." With a brief sigh Fin changed his position slightly. He continued: "Dad had asked me to come straight from school to his workplace. Mike was going to spend a long weekend with one of his friends, so it was just Dad and me. It seemed on the one side the time was standing still. On the other the seconds and minutes passed way too quickly. I tried to figure out, if Dad would cane me as soon as we were back home the same evening or if I had to wait for my spanking until Mom was back from her conference." "You didn't look forward to either, did you?" Fin shook his head. "No, and in all honesty waiting until the return of my mother would have been worse. I was totally unprepared what my father had in store for me, though. When school was over for the day, I didn't dally and delay going to my father's place. I knew I was in enough trouble. Dad and I exchanged a few pleasantries. Then he inquired about the test. Without a word, I got out the sheets of paper and showed him. Dad's face darkened. "Coldham Fintan, what did your mother and I tell you would happen, if you didn't study?" He asked. "You said you would cane me." I barely managed to look him into the eyes. "Absolutely correct! I am very ashamed of you! We have given you so many chances, and you didn't take any of them. If you don't have good grades, you won't be able to study, and that is going to leave you in an awkward position. You are going to end up on the streets. Do you really want to be homeless?" Dad's lecture made me angry. Always, when a mistake was school related I was told I would end up on the streets. I refused to answer, which infuriated my father. He pressed further and out of frustration, anger and rebellion I replied: "Anything than living with you would be better." He slapped me for that. It was embarrassing. Dad had his own office, but it had windows opening to the rest of the open plan office and floor to ceiling windows overlooking Miami. Anyone passing by or with the right seat could have seen the slap. I was so angry I nearly threw a tantrum, but knew, if I didn't keep my tongue in check I would end up with a far worse punishment, so I apologized instead. It wasn't sincere. My father calmed down. He told me he had come prepared, and while he was lowering the blinds, I should fetch the cane from his cupboard. I wasn't happy about that development. Dad said the cane was hidden in one of his packaging for his architectural plans. Well, in the cupboard was only one cylindrical shaped tube, so I knew the instrument of my correction was in there. It cost me a lot of will power to retrieve it, because I knew what kind of pain the cane could inflict, and I was going to be at the receiving end within a few minutes, if not seconds. My father had gone out of the room for a moment. I considered making a dash, trying to escape the inescapable, but decided against it. It was hopeless anyway, and if I ran away, I was going to pay for it dearly. Two canings or an estimated six to eight strokes was the last thing I wanted to endure. I took my time, though, and with some trepidation handed the cane to my father, who had returned. "Your mother and I have discussed your case earlier. We have agreed on three strokes. You can keep on your underpants, so please drop your pants and bend over the desk. While I prepared myself, Dad locked the door. My father may had closed the blinds to the office, but not the ones with views to the outside world. Even though I knew the building was covered in mirror glass, I felt somehow exposed. It made me feel humiliated and vulnerable. Dad pulled my shirt out of the way. I knew then that my punishment was imminent and tensed. Before the first cut landed at the top of my bottom, I heard it whistling. As always the pain was incredible. I only took a deep breath, trying to be stoic about it for two reasons: I didn't want to give Dad the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt, and I didn't want any witnesses. I wasn't sure if the room was sound proofed, so to be quiet seemed good advice. Dad waited a few seconds to line up the next stroke. It was harder than the first and hit me in the center of my behind. The pain of the two cuts merged, and my eyes filled with tears. I bit hard on my lower lip to make no noise. I've preferred to scream ... Anyway Dad got what he wanted. I cried out, when the cane connected with my sit spots. I stifled it, though, and it wasn't too loud. I had another problem. Normally I was allowed to get up and go to my room, where I generally burst into tears. This time there was no escape. After another brief lecture I was allowed to get up, but wasn't allowed to get dressed. Dad ordered me into one of the corners and told me: "I've got a bit of work to do before we go home. Face the wall, pull down your underpants, put your hands behind your head and think about why you are in this situation."" "Uh, oh!" Frieda said, knowing exactly how proud Fin was and what it must have meant for him. "Well, I did what he said. I cried silently - not only from the pain - only my shaking shoulders gave me away. My behind was on fire, and I was by now thoroughly humiliated. I was sorry for myself, angry with my father, embarrassed and ashamed. I didn't like to stand there naked from the waist down and "showing off" my backside to my father. I desperately wanted to rub my sore buttocks and get a little bit relieve from the sting, but obviously with my hands locked behind my head, I wasn't able to. I was frustrated. I wanted to shout, because it hurt so much. Of course I didn't do it. Instead I suffered in silence. Corner time seemed to last for ages, and sometimes I thought I felt my father staring at my derriere. I could imagine what it must look like: Three visible straight, deeply red lines, where the cane had hit me and bruises surrounding them. Anyhow, when Dad thought I had spent enough time in the corner, he came to me and asked, if I was studying from now on. Stubborn as I was I refused to answer. My disobedience earned me two spanks on my freshly caned behind. I burst into tears again - they had stopped earlier. My father was impatiently waiting for an answer. When it wasn't forthcoming, he smacked me again. In the end I nodded, but Dad wasn't satisfied and asked sternly that I reply to him. My voice was shaky when I said: "Yes, sir." He was happy with the answer and let me dress and out of the corner. I was relieved. Dad hugged me and said: "Everything is forgiven. Let's start fresh again, and I want to see an improvement in your grades immediately, is this understood, Coldham Fintan?" "Yes, sir." I meant it. Dad gave me the cane to store again in the tube. I had to carry it to the car. Leaving the office was hard. Since I didn't know how much the staff had heard, I kept my head low and avoided looking at people. Sitting was very, very uncomfortable. I cried all the way home. Dad wanted to comfort me further, but I refused. I was still angry with him. It took me a while to forgive him, but I never ever had a worse grade than B in math." Frieda asked: "Fin, would you spank our children?" "No! I never want to treat my kids the way I was treated. I believe strongly there are other ways to teach them right from wrong or motivate them." He kept to his word.




©2012

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Handbags

Thank you, EW, for the inspiration behind the story.

Hue Alexander was walking past the Miller's house. She had a Louis Vuitton handbag slung around the shoulder. The Miller's dog Metzger, a Rottweiler, was barking like mad behind the fence. Hue had enough. She took her bag off her shoulder and flung it over the fence. Suddenly Metzger stopped to bark. He sniffed at the handbag, picked it up with his mouth and threw it back at Hue, who was nearly knocked out, when it hit her head. She heard a gruff voice saying: "It's not a Hermes Birkin bag!" Hue didn't believe her ears. Dogs didn't talk! "Hey, lady, do you have a Birkin bag?" The gruff voice came across the fence. Hue recovered and said she had one. "Can I borrow it, please?" Hue was still shell shocked she was talking to a dog. "For what would you need a bag, you're a dog!" "It's not for me. It's for my love. She likes to put in her make up and bones, when she goes out. Please, please lend it to me." Metzger begged. "Okay, but under one condition." "What is it? What is it?" The dog asked excited. "Don't bark at me anymore. It frightens me and please don't attack my youngest daughter Alyssa." "That's two conditions, but okay, I'll do it." Metzger agreed. "Give me just a second, and I'll get the bag for you." Hue said. "I'm not running away."  The Rottweiler promised. Hue went looking for the Hermes bag. She was about to throw it over the neighbor's fence, when the alarm clock woke her. The dream had been so realistic, Hue needed a moment to get her orientation back. For the rest of the day she was amused imagining a Rottweiler with make up, a pink dress and a Berkin bag filled with bones.





©2012

Friday, July 13, 2012

Biscuits

Frieda Noose opened the biscuit tin and stared open mouthed into it. The tin was empty, and only crumbs were left. Since the biscuits were kept in one of the higher up cupboards, she was sure her one and a half year old son Sol couldn't have been the culprit. She went to the kitchen, where her family was having breakfast. Sol had started to use a spoon when he was thirteen months old. He was still a messy eater, but was stubborn like his father and refused to be helped. In Frieda's short absence Sol had managed to get cereals everywhere. His nearly five year old sister was helping herself to another portion of Apple Jacks. "Casey, have you taken the Favorite Teddy Bear Biscuits?" Frieda asked. She knew the one with banana were Casey's favorite. Casey looked up, stopping what she was doing. "No, Mummy." Casey replied, but giggled. Frieda gave her a sharp look. She then realized Casey giggled, because her father was suddenly quite fascinated with the packaging of the Apple Jacks and had turned a little bit red in the face. "Coldham Fintan, did you eat them?" He looked up; his facial expression was slightly sheepish. "Yes, Ma'am." "Sir, what do we tell Casey and Sol regarding snacking?" Frieda asked sternly. Casey grinned from one ear to the other. Sol was pre-occupied with shoveling Apple Jacks into his mouth and ignored his mother's tone. Fin, as Coldham Fintan was called, looked his wife into the eyes, finding it hard to suppress his amusement, because she lectured him as she would have the kids, if they had been up to no good. "We tell them one biscuit is okay, but not too many, because it spoils the appetite and isn't all too healthy." He replied. "Okay, and why did you eat them?" "Well, when I returned from work last night I felt a bit peckish, but was too tired to cook and didn't want to wake you, so I checked what was there, and the biscuits were just right." Frieda let Fin off with a warning and threatened he wouldn't get any biscuits for a whole week, if he continued to set a bad example for the kids and started unhealthy habits. Fin promised to be a good boy. Frieda's lips twitched at Fin's ironic reply. Of course Frieda knew exactly Fin could and would do what he liked. If he decided to live from cookies alone for a month, she couldn't stop him. Sol still wasn't paying any attention what was going on between the adults, but Casey was delighted her father was told off and took her mother's threat serious.



©2012




Thursday, July 12, 2012

Sheraton Krakow, Poland

We had made contact with the Sheraton Krakow a few days before arriving to arrange a pick up by hotel limousine from the airport.
Our driver was already waiting for us, holding a sign with our name. Our limousine was a Mercedes E-Class
The journey was pleasant and took around 30 minutes. It cost around 95 PLN (ca. 23.75 Euro or ca. 30 USD)

The Sheraton is located opposite Wawel Castle and maybe ten to fifteen minute walk from the Old Town.
The door man was very friendly and offered to take our luggage.
At reception there was no queue, so we could check in immediately. The gentleman was friendly and efficient.
At our request he booked an Auschwitz Tour for us, costing 125 PLN per person (ca. 31.25 Euro / 40 USD).

Our room was located on the highest floor, had a side view of the castle and was located near the elevators.
It was a large, classic room with red and brown colors, writing desk, seating area and king sized bed. The flat screen TV offered international and local channels. There was enough storage space.
The bathroom was medium sized with a sink, bath tub / shower combination and Shine products.
At the in room dining the Color Your Plate concept - as mentioned in the Sheraton Poznan Review - was available.
The room was comfortable and everything was in working order.
Things to consider:
Light sleepers might get disturbed by the noise the elevators make, moving up and down.
At first we feared the room could be to dark, based on the few light features, but it turned out to be no issue.

The lobby is really fantastic, airy and filled with natural day light thanks to a huge atrium. The reception is immediately to the left and opposite of it is the Some Place Else Pub. Most of the space in the atrium is taken up by the Olive Restaurant. The Sheraton also has a fitness center with spa and swimming pool, meeting facilities, The Roof Top Terrace and Bar and Qube Vodka Bar and Cafe.
The Link @ Sheraton is there, too, as well as an ATM. It is a bit hidden near reception.

The reception can get very busy, and sometimes there are long queues. The staff is very friendly, efficient and capable.

This time around we were so much out and about that we didn't use the restaurants, so unfortunately can't comment on them.
Our three night stay passed quickly.
The day before returning to Warsaw with LOT we requested a limousine transfer to the airport. It was well organized and cost 70 PLN (ca. 17.50 Euro or ca. 22 USD).

Check out was done quick and in a friendly manner.

Would we stay here again? Yes, we would.



©2012

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Encounter

This is for Hue fans and tells about a meeting from three different view points. Hope you like it. :)

Alyssa's view

Parents! They always worry! Mommy made a drama today, because I patted the neighbor’s doggy. There's nothing wrong with it. I like Metzger's fur and his lolling tongue. His eyes are pretty nice. I know he loves me, and I adore him, too. What is this fuss all about? He's a nice doggy!

Hue's view
My daughter Alyssa just turned one. She is quite a handful and loves nothing better than to explore. She is absolutely fearless. Since a few weeks my little red head can walk, making it even more difficult to keep an eye on her. Alyssa had been fussing and didn't want to stay in her buggy. We were very close to our home, so I allowed her to walk with me, holding my hand. On the way home we met our new neighbors. They have a huge Rottweiler, called Metzger. I guess he weighs something between 110 and 130 pounds. Whenever somebody walks along their fence, he barks like mad. I'm a bit afraid of him. I greeted the neighbors. Somehow Alyssa managed to wriggle her hand from mine and was hugging the dog. My blood froze. I feared Metzger was going to tear Alyssa apart. Instead he accepted the hug and the rough attempts of Alyssa to pat him. She was still too small to understand animals prefer to be stroked soft or that they can be dangerous. The rest of the family tried to teach her with our cat Dante, but we hadn't been successful yet. When I tried to pry Alyssa from Metzger, she protested. Metzger thought I threatened Alyssa and growled at me, baring his teeth. I took involuntarily a step back. Mrs. Miller told Metzger to shut up and re-assured me everything was okay and Metzger wouldn't attack me. I didn't feel very much re-assured. In the end I picked up my daughter and explained to her, why I was worried. We said good bye to Mrs. Miller and went home. From then on I was extra careful, when Alyssa and I were out and about.

Metzger's view

I love little humans. The one across the street is really cute. She is a bit rough and likes pulling my ears, but it doesn't matter. In fact I like it. My mistress and I met the big female human and the little one. I can smell the bigger one fears me. It was no wonder she disapproved of the puppy to hug me and patting me. I enjoyed it. Alyssa and I didn't want to be separated, so I made it clear to the human I wouldn't accept it. Unfortunately my mistress ordered me to keep quiet. Too soon our neighbors were leaving. I can't wait to see the little one again. Maybe she wants to ride on me like my mistress' sons did, when they were small.



©2012

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

How I found out....

This is a story told from the viewpoint of Beverly Noose, the mother of Fin. Some of you know both of them from previous (spanking) stories. You can read Fin's views on what happened in The Bee and me and other stories,, called Feeling like murder. Two spanking stories relate to it as well, Eight and Stripes. Another story in two parts tell what happened to Lil, Fin's grandmother. This is called Revenge and Revenge Part 2. Hope you like it. :)

... my son was a liar and thief.

"Hi Bev, how are you, darling?" Wesley Rutland, an old friend of mine asked. We hadn't met in a longer time and I was glad he was at the convention. I confirmed I felt well. "You must be so relieved your son is feeling better again with that virus he had." I didn't have a clue what he was talking about. I had two sons. Both studied at the same college, where Wesley was working in administration, but neither had been sick. I had a clue Wes was referring to my oldest son Coldham Fintan. He had always been a troublemaker. When Fin, as we nick named our oldest son to avoid confusion with his father and name sake, was born, we had high hopes he would be similar to us, hardworking, ethical and outgoing. Unfortunately Fin proved to be introvert and unethical.  If Fin was interested in a subject, he was working hard, but sometimes needed encouragement for the rest. We tried to change his behavior, but weren't successful. First we were worried Fin's shyness would hinder him later in life. He had only a few friends, while his younger brother Mike was outgoing and making lots of friends quickly.
Then we worried, because Fin started cutting classes. We put an end to it by having a talk to him and spanking him to send a clear message.
A couple of years later we were so disappointed, when Fin had been stealing from us, other family members and our friends. We punished him severely and sent him to a military academy. My husband and I thought we had Fin cured.
Wes' comment made me suspicious. I was going to investigate.
Discreet inquiries proved my hunch right. Fin hadn't been studying Economics and Architecture as he claimed and what we paid for. During the first semester he didn't show up at all for classes, but suddenly emerged as a Psychology student in the next, achieving excellent grades, claiming to have had a virus infection. Interesting enough I had requested to see the grades he had received for his economic and architectural projects Fin should have been working on a few months earlier, because he had been sarcastic and flippant to me about the importance of education.
I discussed my findings with Coldham. We decided to confront Fin as soon as he returned from a meeting with a friend. I intercepted Fin, when he arrived. "Please not now." He said. Fin passed me. I shouted after him: "Come right back, Coldham Fintan!" "Leave me alone!" He shouted back. I didn't care about his mood right now. He had reached the staircase. "Coldham Fintan, you better join us in the kitchen. We have issues to discuss!"  My son took a deep breath, shrugged and finally gave in. I told him what we had found out. Coldham and I were so disappointed. We had invested a lot of time and money to allow Mike and Fin to go to college. We felt betrayed. Fin behaved obnoxious and didn't even deny he had been lying to us in regards to his studies and faked the test score. He also said he had trained as a burglar, never intended to go to college and wasn't interested in Psychology either. His "job" had demanded him to be in that specific class. He mocked us, and Coldham lost his temper. He slapped Fin very hard. Blood trickled from Fin's split lip. He threatened his father. I told Fin my piece of mind, and he replied in kind, basically accusing us of having neglected and abused him. It was too much. Coldham dragged Fin out of his chair and pushed him against the wall. I guess he intended to punch our son, but Fin was faster and suddenly a knife appeared out of nowhere. Fin threatened to cut Coldham's throat, if he touched him again. I barely kept from screaming and was so frightened! Coldham took Fin serious. He threw him out. We never ever wanted anything to do with a criminal. Unfortunately our paths crossed again, when Fin's grandmother had had a fatal accident.



©2012

Monday, July 2, 2012

School Paddling - Part 2

As promised here is the second part of School Paddling. You are going to find out, if David's father is going to believe in David's innocence.


David Jefferson hoped he had been dreaming and it had been a nightmare. Unfortunately it hadn't. He had been paddled and expelled for stealing. A crime he hadn't committed. David was martering his brain, who had set him up. He couldn't come up with anyone. David's self confidence had taken a knock. He hurt, not only bodily. The cadet, he shared his room and was befriended with, had given David the cold shoulder, believing David was a thief. Being ignored was hard. David didn't want to think what was going to happen, when his father showed up. He was still sore and had marks - dark blotches at some spots, the paddle had left behind.
David's father was strict and a detention noted on the report cards, sent out every quarter, meant a whipping, when David was home during vacations. Of course Arthur Jefferson asked for an explanation and depending on the severity of what had occurred; David received one to three strokes for each offence.
David dismissed going to breakfast. His stomach was knotted in anticipation. Besides he could imagine the reaction of his fellow cadets. They would stare and be hostile.
Arthur Jefferson had a brief talk with Commander Richmond before entering his son's room grim faced. He was very disappointed and angry. He had thought he had taught David morals. It upset Arthur even further, when David continued to deny he had been stealing. Arthur couldn't believe his son as much as he would have loved to, but the evidence spoke against him, and when Arthur asked David, if he had any enemies and how they would have managed to set him up, David couldn't explain it. "I think you need to learn a lesson here, David Mark. Step out of your pants and underpants, please. You won't need them for the next minute or so." Normally David obeyed. "Dad, please..." He pleaded. "David Mark, don't make it harder for you than necessary." Arthur Jefferson stayed calm. David knew the tone only too well. Under different circumstances David wouldn't have started to sniffle even before the spanking had started, but now it was all a bit too much. David was upset, because nobody believed him. He complied. He was slow, though, and his movements indicated he was heartbroken.
Seeing that Arthur had difficulties going through with the punishment. Still he couldn't let David get away with his wayward behavior.
When David stood only in his shirt in front of his father, Arthur ordered him to bend over the writing desk. When David was in position, his father moved the shirt out of the way, baring David's behind. Arthur saw the bruises from the paddling and decided not give David two dozen strokes as planned. He realized a smaller number would suffice. It didn't mean he was going to hold back. Coming to his decision, Arthur unbuckled his belt and pulled it out, folded it, and delivered the first lick. David cried out. Thanks to the previous spanking he felt the stroke double as strong as it would have normally been. The second brought tears to David's eyes. After the third David broke down. His shouts grew louder with each lash, and he cried bitter tears. After the eleventh lick, Arthur Jefferson stopped. He thought David had enough. His son was sobbing and wailing. Arthur put his belt back in place, giving David some time to recover. "Come here, David." David generally didn't hold a long grudge. In this case he accepted his father's hug, but was stiff and didn't really want to be comforted. David felt aggressive and unforgiving. The spanking had caused a rift that took long to heal. His parents didn't trust him for a while. Since it was hard to find a new school for David quickly, his mother took over his schooling. David was glad he was able to graduate.



©2012