Category Archives: #ps

a little Daddy Christmas poem

Daddy, Daddy, the lil’ one asks
like their life depends just on that task

Daddy, Daddy, answer me

what will i find, under the tree?

Will Santa bring me: awesome toys

a dolly truck, that makes some noise?

Will I get stuffies or that doll

and candy chocolates galore?

will there be a little house

and a neat new pink-purple blouse?

Daddy, Daddy: I confess

I also need a mermaid dress!

and my coat looks all too worn

and please, I need a unicorn!

and then adds with whiny tone

Daddy, I wanna new phone!

Daddy listens, Daddy smiles

He has not heard that in a while

But when the tone gets all too shrill

Daddy cools down that too much thrill!

Come here, My lil one, listen please

Daddy speaks to the little tease

So many wishes, you have told

Are you sure, that you’re not spoiled?

No! no pouting – little one…

I know you just want to have fun

you did not mean it, getting wild

acting like an – ungrateful – child!

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I know, My lil one, you have big eyes

and as not to spoil the surprise

while there is no guarantee

what Santa packs under the tree

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I heard the angels as they say

Father Christmas has His ways

I heard the elders, who are wise

Yet only for children, who are nice!

Being nice, not tantrum dance

waiting, showing some patience

even though, it’s quite some wait

showing still some self restraint!

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I also hear the Elves, they whisper…

Naughty children meet with Mister

Mister Wooden, Spoon or Brush…

better be patient and do not rush!

 

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appeasement of a war zone (NSFW.M/F)

 

She arrived home late today. the zombie shift had been horrible, a veritable nightmare, once more. All those freaking idiots all over the place. As if it was not hard enough dealing with too many patients with too few people. No, now the visitors needed pillows to sit on with their damn fat asses. No consideration, that the nurses, getting the visitors another cushion had to leave the station and run across half the building to get them. No consideration for them being actually needed to take care of your family and relatives. Bring your effing own pillow, or sit on your all too fat asses, and quit bitching! she fumed to herself, replaying her angry thoughts. And than the doctors. What the fuck do they know anyhow. She was a nurse and knew that medication was ill advised, how could doc university degree have such a lapse in judgment? But no, the nurses have to do as told, regardless how they will be the ones cleaning the mess up… literally.

She slammed the door to her house so hard it swung back open. Shut you fucking bitch! she roared and slammed it again, even harder, and now the door knob fell off. “Oh for fucks sake” she thundered, knowing from past time incidents, this would cause another steep handyman bill from the money so hard earned. She kicked the door frame in frustration, and saw stars. OWWWWWWWWWW she wailed, instinctively rubbing her throbbing toe in her sandal she had just hurt.

This day was going to be a real hell, she self pitiedly muttered under her breath, while hopping off to the living room, to take a look at the damage she had just caused to her toe. The white sock she was obliged to wear as part of her nurse uniform already started to stain in burgundy, promising this becoming an ugly site to see. Well it felt like living hell, why would it not look like it too? she thought sarcastically as she inspected the broken nail stuk inward that super sensitive skin, now pierced by it.

**you better get that looked after and disinfected, young lady** she heard that voice say in her head, that voice, that was calm but nonchalant, annoyed and concerned all at the same time. that annoying voice she cared NOT to hear in this very moment. that voice that she would just put aside, and switch on some game show or food network on the TV and forget the whole fiasco of a work shift from hell. It was not her fault, the damn coworkers were late. It was not her fault, the people were being idiots. It was not her fault, the stupid door knob wouldn’t be fixable to some stupid door, and it was totally unfair, that she had broken her toe nail and slit open her toe, and was bleeding. She would just let the blood clean the wound out, and take care of it later, she was a nurse and knew more about these things than even the fucking doctors, so there.

**I was not asking, I was telling!** the voice continued, and she started shaking her head *no* in slow motion as if she was trying to shake a nightmare of drowning under water. No, this was ^never the fuck ever just a voice in her head, because her own replay of THAT voice in her head would not have used that catchphrase, that tone of voice with her, anyway. If this as a voice within she’d rip it a new one, and muffled it with chocolate and chips and ice cream and a snicker bar or 5. She closed her eyes tentatively. Deep breath. This cannot be happening. He had no keys to her house. He had not been in here uninvited ever. Her house was locked down, windows secured when she had arrived, and the door knob was OK before she had slammed the door shut, kinda, which still was not her fault, but still…

A shiver ran down her spine. No, it could not possibly be Him in person. How the fuck would that have been possible anyhow? No, it must had been her inner voice, telling her, inviting her, to do eat all the good stuff. Because let’s face it, OK? She had pulled off 3 nights of 12 hour shifts at work over the week-end. And she had still the household to do and all the groceries stuff and her car needed oil and she would have to go to that jerk of a garage guy giving her smirk looks and lecturing about proper car maintenance blah blah, just because she was a nurse, and a woman, and not a bloody car mechanic. And she did not want to. And now she would have to get the carpenter involved, again, and have him ask her all sorts of questions about how such a solid door could have so much trouble locking and if she is sure, that no brutal force had been used, possibly by one of her kids?

She deserved the Snickers. Matter of fact, she would hop to the kitchen, and get herself the half gallon Blue Bell Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough container, it will help her cool herself down, and ice is good for swelling toes too. So there, problem solved. Yes, she had bought it originally, to welcome home her babies who’d arrive from the summer camp tomorrow afternoon, but she’d just buy a new container for them in time. She needed a reward. She deserved it. She had fought in that war-zone, and had the scars to proof it. With a deep sigh and a pain twitched face she got up from the recliner, and hobbled over to the kitchen, getting a table spoon and her Blue Bell reward. She threw the lid on the counter and it bounced off the wall falling face down on the floor. She shrugged her shoulders. The floors are dirty anyway, whats one thing more on the ground, and sighed, knowing she had to wipe the floors too, before the kids would come home. Yeah, she needed the ice cream and she did deserve that treat, the poor, limping Cinderella she were.

She just collapsed in the recliner and starting eating the ice cream, closing her eyes at this rush of sugar and flavors soothing her nerves. oh my God, this was the heaven she deserved! She dug the spoon deeply into the ice masses and shoveled the treat into her mouth eagerly, eyes closed still, gulping down the sweetness, one load full after the other. This was not enjoying the flavors, at this point, this was shutting down and stuffing her feelings.

And then the spoon tried to dig into the container, but the container was gone. She opened her eyes, finding the container soiling the recliner and floor, leaving a sweet messy stain that would be a bitch to clean up. For fucks sake, not only was she wasting that delicious ice cream, now she would have to get her butt up again, and deep clean the sofa and floor in vain hopes she can salvage the recliner. But before she could even think straight, that voice thundered at her, startling her profoundly.

**Missie, when I give an order it will be followed through with, or you will be finding yourself at the receiving end of so much trouble, your mess up here will feel like a walk on the beach!**

And as she opened her eyes, looking up from the mess in the living room, her eyes could see, what her brain was trying to block out. And her eyes widened, and her mouth dried up, and her lips trembled as her jaw dropped, and it was barely a whisper that escaped her throat, which felt suddenly like tied up…

*oh no, it IS **#SpankieMonster**, threatening doom, standing in the door*

(tbc)

(c) StrictMotivation@yahoo.com

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FAQ. the study #SMalt

Q:

Can I come and visit that study of yours? It sounds like an amazing (even if scary) place

A:

No and yes. how so? No, you cannot be invited into the study in real life, because that described study is a virtual place, not a real room in a real house. It is a virtual room in a virtual house, in My House of #StrictMotivation Alternative Life Training (SMalt). And thus, Yes, you can be invited into the study, described in some of My writings, in the effect, that it will have on you.

 

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You can be welcomed into My disciplinary practice, virtually, online, from the convenience and privacy of your home and receive the scoldings and lectures, as well as other forms of discipline in that very spirit. Be them through Live Directed Discipline aka interaction over skype, kik, snapchat. messenger etc or through Static Directed Discipline in the form of emailed instructions. 

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you can experience and explore those unique feelings that come with real(istic) punishment scenarios, having to report about your achievements and challenges or confess the shortcomings; endure the interrogations and being held to a standard and accountable.

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you may get send to the corner, experience stress positions and the stress of having your motives and motivations questioned, your inventory taken. you can feel the humbling experience of being questioned by an experienced disciplinarian who can see through your excuses and see you through your trepidations at life. Someone willing not only to take matters in His hands, but also to take you in hand as needed.

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Someone who is very versed in providing this service, and who can translate those very feelings conveyed through faced and followed through disciplinary actions in “real time” or “real life” in long distance / remote settings, through means of online, virtual, “cyberspace” communication. Someone who knows what it feels like to be “for real” on either side of the stick and can use implements at hand to create that desired realistic experience.

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Someone who supplements the discipline and structure necessary for your success at life, if and when you are struggling to implement it from within with consistency and integrity.

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Someone, who puts your long term best interest above their or your own convenience and pushes you, to become and be the best you, you can be.

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should the D enjoy punishing?

I am in My relationships (usually) the Disciplinarian. In any case being a life coach, a motivator I am using deterrents and punishments to stop unwanted behaviors and rewards , praise etc to enforce and encourage wanted behaviors. As such it comes with the territory that transgressions against the rules will find a response in turn, which for the sake of simplicity I will call punishment.

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I am empathic, which means more than just being able to imagine how someone else probably feels but I am also a Sadist, which means that I am able to enjoy someone else’s suffering. So here you have an emotional dilemma: On the one hand I can feel the pain and suffer with them, on the other I can enjoy their pain. My solution is quite simple; I don’t enjoy their needless (senseless) suffering; I only enjoy the suffering that has a good cause, ideally the one I am dishing out. All punishments I administer are consensual in nature or CNC based, depending on what them and Me had negotiated. I believe that only those who can freely say no, can actually say yes at all.

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So, My goal is to help people get better. I am NOT setting them up to fail, but actually to succeed. I give them rules and guidelines and keep pushing them to realize their (our) goals. If they leave the designed path or stray, they know there will be a consequence of punishment, which will be not to be enjoyed. It may help them to know that I am able to “enjoy” dishing it out, but they will know with no uncertainty, that I am displeased in their lack of investment. They will not have much time to enjoy “pleasing Me” by giving Me an “opportunity to punish.”

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Those under my wings get, what I refer to as maintenance punishments, which is a dose of discipline, just a taste of the punishment they would have coming if they did break rules. That maintenance, that preemptive strike, helps to get the itch out so they don’t need to act out in order to get the mixed feelings of some excitement mixed in to fear etc, that only punishment can actually provide. So that isn’t an issue either.

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you know that saying, *’this hurts Me more, than it hurts you’* which refers to the fact,  that a breakdown of the rules isn’t that enjoyable, or that the one taking care of someone else actually does feel quite hurt by having to seriously punish – and hurt – those in their care.

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I personally (thanks to My Sadist side) don’t have that much difficulty with that, plus: I use it actually for their own good within limits and I am always making sure, that I am not acting out of the wrong motivations. Because the punishments I give are, a service to them, more, than they are there for My pleasure (that includes, getting even, vengeance, anger etc – all feelings that must NOT play any role at all) So while yes, I am capable to very deeply enjoy that which I am dishing out, I do not do it to scratch My itches, and I do it with a clearly defined purpose, dare I say ethically.

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I know that those who are under My wings may feel a sort of extra motivation to endure My, – often described as harsh – punishments; partially in the light of “I am doing it as a testament of my will to submit; for Sir” etc, but I don’t see any troubles with that, because it is neither about what I (or they) may enjoy, nor about the punishment itself; it is about the result of helping them become the best, they can be.

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#StrictMotivation #wejustgetbetter

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Get what you deserve 

Ever get tingly when watching or reading spankerotica or discipline stories thinking what that may feel like? Become a protagonist not just a spectator and just get what you deserve. Long distance discipline from a experienced, safe, versed and caring disciplinarian and life coach.

#StrictMotivation #AlternativeLifestyleTraining