Tag Archives: soap

when the boy gets an “oh boy”


quotes from #PR (Punishment report) by richard j.
[richard j. broke the law and put himself in harm’s way]


i didn’t consider any of the risks involved, nor did i consider any of the people that care about me whilst taking such risks. i was made to kneel in the corner on rice and listen to a scolding from Sir.


W/we then talked about it for a while, and i prepared a bar of Dove soap [as instructed] Once it was ready, i was made to kneel back in the corner on rice (naked from waist down) [for a thorough mouth soaping]…


had to listen to the scolding again whilst kneeling there with my head lowered to allow drool to drain from my mouth onto my shirt.


Once the scolding was finished i had the soap coat the inside of my mouth and mixed with the drool cover my face, and then say the paragraph Sir had prepared for me out-loud before i was allowed to wash up. i then wrote the paragraph as lines 10 times.


i have a particular dislike for the dove brand soap, i hate the smell of it so it was particularly awful for me. Kneeling in the rice was a lot harder and more painful the second time and i had difficulties kneeling completely upright and keeping posture.


The soap was awful and i could taste and smell it for the rest of the evening. The whole punishment made me feel degraded and humiliated, but also very sorry for what i did. It was a hard lesson to learn.


i learned that i need to think of my health and the pain i could potentially cause others before making decisions that are harmful. i learned that not only [breaking the law/put myself in harm’s way are] bad, but the punishment is much, much worse. i learned that Sir is there for me, to protect me when i am weak and don’t protect myself.






Boys to Men #StrictMotivation


No, this is not a post about a boy group, but yes it is a post about a group of boys.

Boys to Men, a Man to men talk by #StrictMotivation

I am talking about the importance of talking Man to men. There is an image out there, that boys will be boys, or how being a bad boy is something to aspire for. The ‘boys will be boys’ statement is a resign, to the fact that boys often act immature compared to their female peers of the same age. It has some to do with brain development but quite a lot of it is not physiology. It is in fact socialization and behavioral issues. Similar, but far worse in its effects is the insinuation, that bad boys score first, or are somehow something to aspire for.

I have never bought into these theories. I have always aspired to become a Man. I have been socialized in a society that very much resembled the values of the free world’s 1950s in many ways though I have been growing up in the 1970s  growing up behind the iron curtain, where the anti-authoritarian emancipation of the mid to late 1960s never happened, and where “spoiling a child” by letting them get away with bad behaviors were quite the exception and heavily frowned upon.


Part of that norm was that discipline is actually something natural, and that elders will be respected. That when you misbehave you have punishment coming you will detest, thus making the effort to get your act together rather sooner than later. What you learned as a boy, was that anyone, virtually anyone (regardless of social rank or gender identity) who was in any sort of authority position could and would discipline you, if you misbehaved according to their standards.

A side effect of that was, that “boys will be boys” was not at all a valid excuse, neither uttered by overwhelmed parents, let alone by the boyish culprits! What is more, you also aspired to become – as soon as possible – a respectable part of society, and to not be a boy but in fact become a young man. Becoming a real, aka grown Man of character was the goal: becoming a Good Man was what we boys aspired for.


While bad boys may have some appeal from a rebellious point of view, they had no appeal to us boys. we did not aspire to become antisocial outlaws, because we had learned how rebellion and defiance are met with unwavering, corrective, firm discipline. We had quite nicely embraced, that even though it may have sucked at the time, there was no viable alternative to being a good man. Because by being a good man you would have the chance finding yourself a fine woman, and get her parents blessings to start your own family. And so the idea of “bad boys score first” was no assumption we made.

Especially now, when we can see where male driven egocentric chauvinism has lead society, how misogyny and oppression still come blowing up into any oppressors face, where now those very “rebels” become the out-lawed, we should understand, as guys, that the #metoo movement is a chance for us, too. #metoo! means that I too want to be freed from an ideology dictate, that mistreating women, or other people in exploitable positions was somehow OK, cool or even a way to go.

I too, want to be freed from a dictate, that boys should grow into bad boys, meaning becoming despicable members of society! No, there is literally no need for bad people in the world.  The world is complex and difficult and hard enough without a group of cowards hiding behind some assumed privilege created by their wiener like genitalia, or other such superficial traits, including a role in a life-style you assume, come on!

That, which is true for the macro-cosmic world and society as a whole equally is true for the micro-cosmos called BDSM community, and our subculture or the life-style. We are still the same human kind on the same planet. And just because you were given physical advantage does not mean you are destined to misuse it to cause anguish, undue harm and disaster! Men have been created as more aggressive or physically stronger in order to protect and provide, not to mistreat and abuse.  Being a good Man was and is the goal still. Being a good, safe and ethical Dominant is what separates Good Men from bad boys.

Bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do, what you gonna do when they come for you!

People who know Me, know that I am quite tolerant and accept boys, girls and any gender in between or outside the CIS norm, because people are people. I don’t condemn people by the color of their skin, form of their sex, or preference of partners. I base My judgment on their behavior and their character.


I am a caretaker, both as a disciplinarian as well as a life coach, and I take boys under My wing too. And if someone wants to be or stay a boy, I am just as fine with it, as I am with another person wanting to be or stay a girl.


But if you want to be a bad boy, you should get ready for a bumpy ride. Because I will not be having that level of dysfunction under My wings. Being a bad boy is unwanted bad behavior, and I will oppose it vehemently. I will punish bad boy ways in ways the bad boy will detest. There is nothing sexy about being a misbehaved, misguided male person. And there is no valid excuse that will fly. Bad boys get severely punished in very unpleasant, un-sexy ways.

I am equal opportunity and very fair like that. I treat bad boys as I would bad girls. If you want to be a boy, and do boyish things, as long as you are aspiring to being a good boy, an actually well behaved young man, we will get along just fine. But cross the line to bad boying and you will wish you had never had that inclination!

Because I believe in old school values. #StrictMotivation

(c)2018 StrictMotivation@yahoo.com



Happy Valentines from the #SpankieMonster

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
(c)2018 StrictMotivation@yahoo.com


talk back is not a safe bet #food4thought

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,
and lectured,
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


#go2bed 170706

finally duty is over for today and we may sink to the lovely bed. don’t be bad, or else… there will soap and spanks ❤ #StrictMotivation #wejustgetbetter


Daddy’s Discipline: like a summer storm

As much, as it hurts to get Daddy’s Discipline it also soothes and resets and can be quite healing. I may compare it to a summer thunderstorm: yes it is loud, and harsh at times, it has a certain violence to it, but at the end the air is cleared, and the ground has been fertilized (or watered anyway). Thus, Daddy’s Discipline becomes not just a renewer but also a catalyst for excelling to the higher standard after its reception.
#StrictMotivation #wejustgetbetter (c)StrictMotivation@yahoo.com