the strap sleeps safely
My dear friend
resting as is
don’t wake them
harshly nor to soon
lest they be howling
at your moon!
the strap sleeps safely
My dear friend
resting as is
don’t wake them
harshly nor to soon
lest they be howling
at your moon!
They had a meltdown. It was not pretty. Not pretty at all. They wanted the candy. All of it! And now. They wanted the flowers – and not just any bouquet, not just one bouquet of flowers. They wanted to have that flower from that bouquet mixed with that one over there. But worst of all was picking the cards. They wanted every card… and all the cards. The whole store, every single department, from toys to sweets, from florist to stationary, from fruit to vegetables, from bakery to deli, each and every clerk got an earful and a half. And yet another. Of the girls and boys wailing at their more or less patient Mommies and Daddies.
The clerks had been there before, usually around early mid February. Lovers day. Who ever invented that must have hated shop assistants, the clerks thought and silently started counting backwards from one thousand. One thousand, because a simple from one hundred would not have done. *998, 997 … where is that damned #SpankieMonster when you need Him!* some would think while trying to grasp some serenity at the face of another snot nosed kid, hovering their little hands over yet another box of chocolates in heart form.
*Why the fuck do I have to have a damned fucking shift on the fucking week-end before v-day* one clerk thought to herself bitterly. *it is almost as horrible as fucking Christmas* she finished her angry tune, and felt a sharp sour bitter taste in her mouth out of the blue. She excused herself to the bathroom, to spit out and rinse her mouth off of that strange taste, she remembered vaguely from a distant life far in her past, growing up in a strict household. But how was this even possible?
She met her boss there, already bent over one of the sinks, who too was washing out her mouth with water rather eagerly, using her hands like improvised cups, wearing that same bewildered and heavily embarrassed facial expression. She took the sink next to her boss, who now was gargling water directly from the faucet, looking growingly mortified and agitated the same. Had she had time to watch her boss, she could have even seen bubbles mixing in with the drool and spit, but she was too busy trying to defeat her own bitter awful taste, that strangely was getting worse and worse and worse.
From the stalls next door, behind the wall of the gentlemen’s restroom they could hear muffled noises of bad language ricocheting from the walls yet muffled over by running faucets the same. It was not just the female staff. Evidently, this epidemic was equal opportunity. Politically correct to the T, it hit both lads and ladies equally. And when one person could finally get themselves to leave that favorable position, their place was taken by yet another unnerved, abashed colleague, battling evidently with the same impediment.
As she was on the way back to the store filled with children melting down, her anger had come back full force. But not wanting to risk to have to stand in line at the faucets, yet again, she would just bite her tongue and not cuss. It must have been the swearwords, she had figured out, because the taste spread like wildfire, every time another f-bomb or c-word slipped through the cracks of her effervesce mind. Even though her state of agitation and bitterness grew by the second, she somehow managed to keep the inner language cleaner, this time, but anger is a bitter poison and a volatile agent and so soon she had a raging head-ache, and cramps in her abdomen, from all the noise she hated so much.
As the thought of, wishing someone would discipline their children, crossed her mind again, and would just bend those nuisances over the next counter, or that #SpankieMonster would finally do His art, thoroughly, the symptoms worsened. But she was not alone in that boat either. She watched as Mister Briggs from the sweets departments rolled his eyes to the ceiling and made fists behind his back, when out of the blue he slipped and fell butt down first on the tiled department store floor, letting out a hiss of pain.
When it was finally time to close the store, after all the children monsters had been served their precious flowers, candy and cards, she literally ran to the bus stop. Seeing the bus driving away from her, the anger just had reached critical mass. She stomped her foot, cussed out loud at the empty, deserted bus stop house and kicked its tin garbage bin with her right foot. She had not even put her foot back down on the ground as she felt a force swirling her off her balance and bending her over the very same trash can. Her work pants magically fell off her, taking the panties with them.
Only seconds later she felt that all forgotten, yet all too familiar sensation of a wooden brush cracking down on her bared skin, causing havoc. Held firmly in position by hands unseen, she was subjected to a disciplinary session she had wished upon those brats in the store. The force was walloping her sore quickly reddening buttocks and upper thighs, and no amount of pleas, hisses or protests seemed to phase it, any other than them spanks getting worse. A lot worse and worse still. She was getting a perfect big butt whooping and would not be able to do nothing about it.
Eventually, the pain and embarrassment got the better part of her. Her struggles to escape that sordid turn of fate subsided. While her bright crimson buttocks started showing deep purple bruises under the relentless wooden paddle she felt that tremble of the lungs, and wet stuff happening in her eyes, and down her face quickly after. She would not, could not hold the tears back, and neither those desperate sobs, and those promises she would be well behaved, whatever in the world that may mean.
And an echo in her head, or maybe a real life voice through her ears, started to lecture and scold her, and the words exploded like grenades behind her breaking defense wall, tearing her heart apart. Words that she felt deeply in her bones and heart, her guts and soul to be true, yet quite unbearable to hear. Words about how mean spirited and spiteful she had been and how insulting to that very idea of the LOVERS day. What a disgrace her behavior had been. How she had brought shame onto her name, and her parents much better raising of their child. How ungrateful and non empathic of her to feel animosity towards innocent children trying to actually honor the very day and the very people, she was dishonoring through her unacceptable, immature attitude. Calling her the true brat, the undisciplined “little shit” – echoing her very words to add insult to injury. And how short sighted to not see, that those very children choosing their store helped funding her very salary not just this months, but possibly for a long long time.
And that long long time was paralleled by that lengthy lecture and that thorough spanking she was receiving, tenderizing her flesh, and massacring her arrogance at the same time. She had a hard time breathing and was hick-upping for air, while snot and tears and sweat formed an unholy triad running down her face. Her hairdo a mess, just as her feelings, were only topped by the mess of her seat taking the brunt of her – as she was now admitting – well deserved, long overdue punishment.
Her sobs and screams now accompanied the harsh paddle swats she was receiving, meanwhile trying to repeat the affirmation she was to say out loud. She stuttered and lost count, sometimes speech, only to find the affirmation spanking to start over at **one**, that dreaded, horrible **one**
Finally the onslaught was over. Her last affirmation done, she felt that heated up wooden implement close to her face, so she would press her lips onto its dreadful self, and kiss it! Thanking it, like she meant it, for teaching her a necessary – if painful – lesson. But her ordeal was far from being over. She had still atonement time to spend, in the corner, of that bus stop house of glass, where she had just received a profound punishment. And so she stood, askew but as straight as possible with those hornet stung derrière on display for anyone to see, who would come by, from their store or else-place. She was under strict instructions, that in case some-one asked her, she had to admit to all of her ill behaviors – or else there would be a reprise.
She stood there in the instructed, painful position. Her buttocks and thighs throbbed with pain, and her face was bright red from humiliation. She was well aware what a sight it must have been to see, and that she was, indeed pretty much on perfect display, the way she were. Her eyes were shut hermetically, in a cramp more than just shut. She had the faint hope that if she could not see the world, the word would not see her. As she dared not opening her cries-swollen eyes she missed out on seeing her colleagues standing or even kneeling in equally awkward positions by their vehicles, with equally bruised egos and behinds.
As she felt #SpankieMonster presence to start to vanish into thin air, where He had appeared from, she cleared her hoarse voice a bit and whispered a respectful question. Why had she been punished, but not those kids, causing so much havoc at the store? Where was the justice in their meltdowns going unpunished?
And she felt the presence coming closer, and she shivered, shuddered, her blood froze. **A fair question deserves a fair answer** the voice said, and yet there was an undertone of unspoken menace to it. **The kids went unpunished not because their behaviors were good, nor because your foul behaviors had to be dealt with more so than theirs, young lady**
**But their meltdowns were not tantrums, exactly. They were real hurt feelings. Because the kids really and truly wanted just to have the PERFECT gift for their beloved Dad or Mom. Nothing was good enough. Nothing said I LOVE YOU, the way the kids felt in their giant little hearts. And so their tears were real, and their despair no trick. They really were just trying for the best they could do, to show their parents, that indeed, the kids do appreciate their parents more, than any word, or any gift could say…**
And with that being said, that bomb shell dropped #SpankieMonster vanished into His dimension from where He came. And that way, she had learned, to honor: Valentines; the Lovers Day.
#StrictMotivation Alternative Life Training #SMalt
A public service announcement intended for your betterment by #StrictMotivation
this is for those,
who do not (yet) understand,
but trust Me, you will,
in the end
what ever it takes.
I will help you, dear
so don’t fret, and do not fear
help (readily available) is near
If you get told what to do,
it is a grace – mind you –
and requires gratitude
more than a bad attitude.
If you cannot say something nice,
it sure is no vice
to say “yes Sir”
and keep your *but Sir*
to your own self.
if this was an opinions club
or a court house,
I am sure you have great arguments,
but we are not arguing.
I am telling you, and you listen.
either as it is, or with a bar of soap
helping you to focus
your energy on your ears,
rather than your mouth.
so if your attitude goes south,
soap will cure your mouth.
Cleanse you from the sin
of unduly speaking
and allow My lecture to sink in
#StrictMotivation Alternative Life Training #SMalt
oh aren’t you a ray of light,
in which everyone would take delight?
find it’s sarcastic and not true –
means I need to get through to you.
Together we will change your ways,
make you wear a grateful face,
even if you may like it not,
I will not be sparing the rod.
For every matter under the sun,
Mother Nature does provide us some,
organic grown and precious tools,
that turn around pigheaded fools.
from ash to pine from birch to beech,
a lesson they know well to teach.
Some polished up, some as they grew,
go-green they say, that oath renew.
And for those brats’ health impediments,
if allergic to wooden implements,
don’t worry and fret, for your true sass,
the white cane is made of fiber-glass!
As you can see, the bar’s not low,
from crooked to straight, man-made to grown,
some still carry their coat of bark,
yet you will take the lesson to heart,
and I will take it to your butt,
your thighs, palms, feet and what you got!
In the end, you too will know.
When Sir teaches you, you too will ow.
#SMart poem and picture.
#StrictMotivation Alternative Life Training #SMalt
Anna and Debbie were in their room. They were bored. They were actually not bored to be precise. They were annoyed. Annoyed and really, really angry. The two sisters had been sent to their room for a time out by Daddy. For a totally unfair time-out at that. They were supposed to go to the corner, each in a different one, and to stand there, and gaze at the empty walls. And to think about what they had done and why, and how it was not OK. Like it was not horrible enough to hear, your behavior was not up to par with Daddy. And now you had to go and stand in the corner and could not even feel sorry for yourself! And you were not allowed any distractions either. You were confined to the corner in your room. In the room with the TV, the computers, the tablets, the i-pod and all the books at your fingertips and yet out of reach. This was so super annoying angry-making maddening unfair! On the week-end no less!!!!
Debbie muttered cuss words into the corner audible enough for her sister standing in the other corner, but still enough under her breath so the sounds of the grumble-mumble would not travel past the open door and travel to where Daddy could hear them. Because, get that unfairness! Not only did Daddy stay in earshot distance, He made them stand in their perspective corners, in their own bed-room with the very door open. So that if He wanted to check up on them, He could, at any time. Even Peppermint, the cat, came triumphantly strolling in on their misery checking each girl out standing in their dreaded position at the worst place to be standing at, of all the places.
But the worst of all, was that there was no time frame. No time line. Nothing to look forward to. No escape route. Daddy just had told them to go to their room for a time out in the corner, where naughty girls belong! And when Anna asked, “for how long?” Daddy had friendly yet firmly said the worst of words, the obscure order of “until!… and off you go!” And now they were stuck here, until, whenever that annoying until would be. And they would miss out their favorite TV shows, and on family time. No game after-noon with Daddy’s boring board games (that however were strangely fun when played as a family) nor a round of ginger rummy or canasta. No duty poker either. None of Daddy’s ways to have a fun filled family week-end with the girls. Corner-time. Time-out. Standing, isolated, deprived of privacy, yet separated from the family room, near all the pleasures and yet – far far away from them at the same time. And totally unfair.
Even Anna, the usually less defiant of the girls was glowingly mad. Debbie was right. Even if her language was a high risk game, Anna thought to herself, Debbie was right. That ducking socked! And even though they had been ordered to remain silent and think about how what they had been doing was completely unacceptable and not suitable to improve their lives, Anna too started mumbling out loud – well out-loudish actually half under her breath about how frustratingly unfair the situation was, and what needed to happen instead.
To no surprise at all the girls – both of them – soon concluded that it was a unfair deal. they both just knew, that Daddy must have had a bad day, and must be wrong, somehow anyhow. Anna and Debbie, agreed – both of them – that instead of this prison and hardship, they deserved to be better. They deserved to be somewhere but here, that they knew, instinctively – both of them – and so they started plotting, – both of them – in their distinctive corner, but unified through the shared hardship and agony of unfair treatment imposed on them by their cruel and heartless Daddy! And so they broke their muttering of cuss words and used the time pro-actively, productively, almost as Daddy would have wanted them to.
Anna and Debbie soon agreed that if there needed to be a time-out, and a time for self reflection the ideal place to do that was someplace warm, and nice, preferably on an island in the Bahamas, by the sea, with the constant “breathing” of the tides, and warm, bright sunshine inspiring betterment! And Daddy’s corner idea would be well represented, if they each would be confined to a hammock hung in between two palm trees. Palm trees would be like the walls closing in, their Daddy was so fond about, so win:win, right? And a hammock kind of is like a vertical corner anyway. Oh and they needed snacks, served ideally, by invisible servants. Just have the drinks and snacks appear by their hammocks on a stool or something. And food for thought, another of Daddy’s famed favorites – they would just have to have to read a book, a good book at that. Not some boring self realization workbook written by some boring guy in an office but rather some detective story, or mystery, or Harry Potter. There you go… witches and dragons, adventures and fun! That is what the girls needed, and not this ducking socking corner time out of Daddy’s they said, out loud, unison, with their eyes closed, out of pouting mouths, fists made and stomped their feet to give their anger and desperation an extra outlet.
And when they opened their eyes they found themselves at an island, tied into those very hammocks, in between tall palm trees, with a dragon like creature greeting them.
welcome new arrivals, to the Ogre Islands, where naughty brats are lead with discipline and punishments for their own good and our amusement, to their very betterment. in the name of the Disciplinarians, I welcome you, our new contestants and as the islands’ tradition wills, let the games of pain-filled, tears spilled discipline begin!
#SpankieMonster #StrictMotivation (c)2018 StrictMotivation@yahoo.com
I was asked by one of My play-partners today a question that will come up time and again.
“what is it with you Daddys/Doms/Disciplinarians that you never reveal what the punishment will be; why do you make me (us) wait? Don’t you know how antsy we bottoms get? The anxiety is killing us!”
My answer was simple. “It is a power thing: you bottoms have the power to (learn to) control your behaviors and us D-types are in charge of the consequences for your behavior. As for making you wait and not know – that **is** the point. It is a punishment, aka a deterrent to unwanted behaviors. Therefore your dread and apprehension feelings are just another bonus to the general idea. If you don’t want to face the consequences, don’t deserve them in the first place #StrictMotivation
a little metaphor. back in the day when there was no radiators, people had to make fire as to cook and keep warm. So the question is: how do you make a warm fire?
you start out slow. you ignite very small branches, and harbor that fire, until you put tiny splinters and logs onto it. as the fire spreads you add bigger logs and the flame rises and rises. However, though this is very impressive to watch, the flames are not what really emits the most warmth. and to be going for superlatives, you would have to throw in trees as some point to make it bigger and bigger. however that does again just put on a show, yet not emit the highest amount of warmth.
if you want to go for warmth, you need the glowing get going, and usually after the bigger logs’ flames are gone, the glowing begins – the highest part of warmth being emitted (you can also at this point add coal to the mix, and the warmth will last the whole night long – but that just aside)
if in the process of lighting the fire you add more and more logs, the logs will kill the fire and that leads to there being no glowing process. then all you can do is take the excess of logs out of the fire-place and start from scratch. so far an excursion on how to make a nice warm fire, the old fashioned way.
now back to D/s reality and the D/s or DD inspired relationships
if you put out too many rules, it becomes constant work for the show, but will not provide the deep down feeling of glowing. if you want to glow, you need to add tasks at a certain pace, and tend to the fire at all times. if you overwhelm one another the risk is the fire will go out. you will end up frustrated and then it is back to square one
D/s or DD relationships however are work. Hard work at that. Why, because like maintaining a fire, they are worth the effort. It is not the Dom being lazy about things, it is not all about the Dominant (Head of Household), it is also not all about the submissive (Taken in hand), it is all about the relationship. and yes, it is work for the dominant as well as the sub. the Dominant has to set up tasks and follow through. How can a Dominant expect fruition of the relationship in that the Dom leads and expects to be followed, if they fail in leading?
It does take self discipline to follow through with assigned tasks. In the beginning of the fire burning the big logs, you could just sit back, and enjoy that bit of warmth but it is likely the glow will eventually go out. the log will break in the middle and the heat will not suffice to bite its way through the now too big wood chucks. Frustration!
Redo from start. (insert coin to play). Fire follows its own rules. To keep a fire at a certain level, you need to become very responsible. Of course you can yell commands at the fire, but if you play the rules wrong, you will end up cussing at ashes. So instead of overwhelming one the other, and if you want it to be a bit easy on you, as the Dominant, you start with a few or just a single task and you follow it through. You expect your submissive to follow through with rules, well, time to lead the ship, no? By example, at that!
When I try helping My submissive to grow I look at what needs be changed and usually it is very complex. If I told her: we need to adjust your sleeping, food, your drinking habits, your work out program, your education, your ethic etc etc all at once …
you see the wood logs pile up? there will be no fire, just frustration. And I will have the “pleasure” to micromanage and a whole big-load of work to do, and in the end we both could fail. The failure would also be Mine. So while I do see all these logs, I decide which log is the smallest, the one, that will catch on fire as a whole, as fast as possible… and I concentrate just on that one field. Just one task. Example: set a bed time and see to it that it is maintained. (Sending an adult person to bed at your own whim, and not theirs, does make for a great D/s experience btw. – and it can be done Vanilla friendly too. “your day was long, darling, why don’t you retire?” ) Once the sleeping/bed-time thing is settled, once their maybe defiance has turned into compliance or even obedience, the next log is added. This way at one point many big logs will be glowing – and the warmth emitted is palpable.
So if you are experiencing the frustration, that after some show off phase, the fire seems to get extinguished, or have re-occurring episodes of frustration because your submissive seems too overwhelmed all the time to do all those rules? Take a good look on the strategy as the leader. Are you maybe overwhelming your relationship, and are you really following through with implementing your rules?
See, in a One leads the other relationship the responsibility for it working lies square on the leader’s shoulders, even if a lot of the workload itself may be with the follower. whether it fails or not is in both parties hands. Fire does want to burn, meaning the sub wants to submit and wood logs are enough there, but it will take the One making the fire, the Dominant to do the work, and initially it is very demanding on the Dominant as well.
But the reward is for both, and in My opinion even the process of making and maintaining the fire is a reward. For both. Keep the fire alive. Love
(c)2011 -2018 #StrictMotivation ~ StrictMotivation@yahoo.com
if you are looking for an experienced disciplinarian, a motivator, a seasoned life coach, a pro dom, a mentor in the life style, a safe professional helping you to learn the “ropes of this craft”, especially in D/s relationships and LDR (long distance relationships) or need working punishments inspiration for you and yours? get in touch with #StrictMotivation ~ I am happy to help