Tag Archives: #SpankieMonster

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



Unfair Corner Time (101)

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



Happy Birthday Spanking Mine

Happy Birthday, to you, Mine
what a joyous wonderful time
a mere few years ago, today
our world got added a story
your story, and what a marvelous story she is


For as the Rabbis say
on that day
years ago today
when you were born
it was
that God decided
the world is incomplete
without you


And so it is indeed
who are we, Me or you
to argue
with the Great Maker
The Omnipotent Being
The Highest Principle
The Leading Principal!



And so to your celebration day
I do not come empty-handed, as they say
because I know you need
and deserve
what is solely reserved today for you
a reminder or two
as to why to renew
your dedication to life
a celebration
of the splendor and glory
of being alive!


you know, how I tell you, Mine
again and time
that it is an opportunity to grow
even though
you may growl, or even ow
and even though
you get that glow
blow by blow
that you receive
it is so you are not deceived
life was a joyride of only ease



It is simple
but easy it is not
and so that hardship it brings
is not forgot
I brought with Me
My tamer brush
designed just for you
so you would merely be
and do
what you need



and now you need to receive
blessings galore
you have no idea, right?
what sores
#SpankieMonster has in store
just for you
but you will
though without any mindset of ill
fully receive
a birthday spanking
to be at ease
with whatever life deals
day by day in your coming year
so have no fear
My dear!


bend over, My girl
and proudly present that seat
so your Sir Meaner can cover it
in red, glowing, heat!
Happy Birthday: Mine
It is your Birthday Spanking Time


♪ #SpankieMonster Liberty Bell March



> Intro:
Enter SpankieMonster into the scene

> Theme 1: 0,04 – 0,37

Just listen to Me girls and boys I have something to say
You can behave like lil angels, but you bratted today
and when you choose a behavior you choose its consequence
The discipline that you deserve will end your decadence

your resistance is futile, your excuses won’t fly
a bar of soap all gooey so bitter you’ll want to cry
to all your foul language and protests is a cure
the domestic discipline has started that’s for sure


> Theme 2, 0,37 – 1,08

And when and where ever SpankieMonster appears
the faces of brats be soon stained with tears
The brats be facing their corner all too soon
dreaded scoldings echo in the room

SpankieMonster has implements galore
paddles, switches, sure get bottoms sore
wooden brushes, leather, ginger, spoons
give glowing redness soon to every moon

> Theme 3 / “TEACHING” to 1,08 – 1,40
1, 2, 3, 4, rain down the spanks
1, 2, 3, 4, painful consequence
**naughty girl: obey your Sir. your butt cheeks in the air**

1, 2, 3, 4  it’s supposed to hurt
1, 2, 3, 4 repeat My every word
misbehave, it wont pay, we’re learning today

> Theme 4 /”DIALOGUE” SM & *brat* 1,40 -1,55

you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir*
you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir*
you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir, I wont do it again! I swear!*

you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir*
you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir*
you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir, I wont do it again! I swear!*

> Theme 5 / “INTERROGATION” 1,55 – 2,04
you better learned that, brat! – *I sure have*
are you sure bout that? – *really Sir* — *i will be good*

> Theme 3 / “TEACHING” 2,04 – 2,35
1, 2, 3, 4, rain down the spanks
1, 2, 3, 4, painful consequence
naughty girl: obey your Sir. your butt cheeks in the air

1, 2, 3, 4  it’s supposed to hurt
1, 2, 3, 4 repeat My every word
misbehave, it wont pay, we’re learning today

> Theme 4 /”DIALOGUE” to **SM** & *brat* 2,35 – 2,51

you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir*
you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir*
you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir, I wont do it again! I swear!*

you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir*
you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir*
you been a bad girl – *i am sorry Sir, I wont do it again! I swear!*

> Theme 5 / “INTERROGATION” 2,51 – 3,00
you better learned that, brat! – *I sure have*
are you sure bout that? – *really Sir* — *i will be good*

> Theme 3 / “TEACHING” to 3,00 – fin
1, 2, 3, 4, rain down the spanks
1, 2, 3, 4, painful consequence
naughty girl: obey your Sir. your butt cheeks in the air

1, 2, 3, 4  it’s supposed to hurt
1, 2, 3, 4 repeat My every word
misbehave, it wont pay, we’re learning today


(c) lyrics StrictMotivation@yahoo.com

below version’s
sounds quite nicely too (spanking sounds and all)






what dreams may come {M/f}

 what dreams may come {M/f}

*“No, Daddy, you can take Debbie to the hairdresser appointment and go to the park just the two of you, I will be fine, I promise!”* she convinced her Daddy, who in fact was a bit astonished to hear his older daughter, who else was so keen on going to the park with him, would prefer to be at home all by herself. She was still not supposed to read, as by her eye doctor’s orders, and Daddy was suspicious, she might want to break the rule when unsupervised. She shook her head vehemently at his insinuation. *“No, Daddy, I will not be reading, nor watching TV, nor any other forbidden thing, I promise!“* she insisted. He gave her a long look, trying to see if she would get nervous, possibly hiding a date she was planning on, behind his back, but her eyes did not give. She could see his probing looks drilling into her and so she did spill the beans on her plan for the afternoon. Anna just had read that article that meditation was good for your health. She would just give it a shot. And be a good girl too. Promise! **Well fair enough** Daddy thought out loud, **but make sure your meditation does not lead to a no nap rule violation, young lady**.

Anna watched Daddy drive away, from the kitchen window and waved Debbie and him bye-bye. The house was so quiet with everyone gone. The cat Penelope winked silently from the scratch post top shelf, as to approve. Or maybe just to wink. Anna was not sure. Oh to read a book would be so tempting, but, no, she had given her word to Daddy. She would be a good girl, and meditate. No need to get a stern lecture from her Daddy upon coming back, about duty and responsibility, promises and accountability and integrity and all the other super important blah blah she was too tired to hear and that already echoed in her brain when she heard him address her as “*young lady*” – she was definitely too old for that! No reading, no napping, just that new thing: meditation!


It seemed easy enough. No complex slow-motion dance moves like in yoga, just sit on the floor and let the zen come. The only problem was, this position on the cold floor was totally uncomfy. How you can meditate in that position was beyond her. She would try the sturdy chair in the kitchen her Daddy would put her on in time out. That seemed a fair compromise. Meditation, a form of unplug. Made sense. It would still be uncomfy in a way, but cretainly more practical. Yes, indeed, the meditation comes from far east, where they dont have chairs. And it is warmer there. They can afford to sit on the floor, but not this girl, up here, where the climate was rough. The chair would be rough enough. And in deed, it was!

Ow, her back hurt in that chair, and not just that, it stung, in all the places. The unforgiving flat wood just did not do any favors to neither her thighs nor her back. Not even her posterior with its padding seemed to feel any comfort on this chair. And all those bad feelings – memories – from when she (or Debbie) would have to sit here, facing the corner, on endless minutes turning into hours, and quarter hours turning into dull days – oooh this was so not a good idea. She would never be able to have the zen come to her on THAT chair, what was she thinking?

There must be a less painfull way to meditate. They said in the article it was relaxing. It was like a reset. It could hardly be relaxing in discomfort, Anna figured. The idea of a chair, was not bad, it was just that she had chosen the wrong place, and the wrong chair. The kitchen was just too distracting. With all the cookies in the jars (she was not supposed to have) tempting her, it was no miracle she could not get in a meditative zen state. She would better go to the living room and sit on the couch. She would cosy up her cold body in that soft fake furr blanket and maybe Penelope would join her by her feet to give her that extra soft and warm rub she adored to receive. Thought, said and done! Daddy would be so proud, to see her determination, she thought approvingly about herself on his behalf and nodded mocking his sinceire nod. She giggled a little bit, happy about that compliment she just received.

But even sitting cuddled up on the sofa was not meditative enough. The zen would just not come. She would need a bit of an extra, she thought, those zens just love it as comfy as possible, and they need input, like a trail of thought, where to go, and what would be better than to take that travel book from the shelf. It was not really reading. It was filled with maps and pictures and photographs, and it was about Asia or the Orient well it was about the Orient Express, close enough. And Agatha Kristie really knew how to capture a mind, it would be so zen, she thought, and started reading the story, and waited for the zen to come, when her tired eyes just shut and she slid to that totally zen meditative state…

SpankieMonster, on His patrol watched the girl’s peaceful sleep, with a soft SMile around His Monster mouth. She looked perfectly peaceful, like the lil angel she could be, but why oh why did she not sleep like this at an Godly hour and instead waste the afternoon? But to wake her up, no, that just did not make a good teaching moment. And He would just have to teach her a lesson, about what dreams may come… and so He kissed her forehead ever so gently, allowing her to sleep that sleep she craved and granted her the wish, she would find what she was looking for, the State of Meditation and the reset, she would need, conveniently, cosied up, on the coach in her sleep. She instinctively pulled
the covers closer, feeling a strange sense of discomfort and slid deeper into napland, into the Spirit realm where SpankieMonster and other spirits live.


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*


(c) StrictMotivation@yahoo.com




#SMalt paDDle brush (171122 #food4thought)


#food4thought yes, it is My declared plan to have every Top (and bottom) to have their own bratTtamer paDDle brush. working on that goal, one paDDle at a time #StrictMotivation Alternative Life Training #SMalt

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