Tag Archives: spanking

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



#AtonementSaturday is in full bloom. Making sure there will be many a red glowing moon #StrictMotivation #wejustgetbetter


PS: Pomp & Circumstance 1.06

Pomp And Circumstance / Part 1.06

{copyright 2009, revisited: 2017 (c)StrictMotivation@yahoo.com}

previous chapters: 1.01 ~ 1.02 ~ 1.03 ~ 1.04 ~ 1.05

“OK, baby-girl!” Tony tore her out of her almost dreamy state. His voice was so firm, almost stern. Her heart sank even lower. Maybe he did call her bluff somehow? It was impossible of course because her plan was so good, but who knows. It would not be the first time he would surprise her, how he could read her like a book. She shivered, all startled. If he did know, this could end up ugly for her. He was so tender and caring, but he could also be strict, almost to the point of being mean. But to her delight, his voice softened up. “Baby-girl? are you cold? Looks like you just shivered, maybe you are really sick. Oh, my poor little baby. Let Daddy tuck you in, OK?”

His voice had that tone, that tone that could melt icebergs. This incredible sweetness, utmost care and total worry for her well-being. Under different circumstances, Janette would have giggled and beamed and been all happy, but now she felt the heavy burden of guilt, knowing she is leading him on. She sighed and shed a tear, feeling like her heart was breaking, feeling cramped in her tummy. Maybe it was the suppository working, but more likely it was her shame and guilt, even more. She felt his hand, this huge big hand she loved and feared at the same time, softly patting her shoulders, while his other hand moved her jammie bottoms back in place, tenderly. He pulled the pillows from under her tummy, with so much care, as if he would handle the most fragile precious china. She felt the blankets being tucked around her, all the while his other hand kept caressing her tight neck and shoulder. “Oh, baby-girl, you poor little thing! Are you crying? What is it? are you hurting?”

She sniffled, overwhelmed by the cramps in her tummy, of realizing how much he cared for her, and how she is causing him pain beyond belief, with her little charade. “It is my tummy!” she sighed, confessing half of the truth, but keeping the rest to herself, unable to face the consequences of her deceit. Now she was trapped, in her own web of lies, and could not move, neither back nor forth. On the other hand, maybe she would get away with it? Maybe he was wrapped around her finger after all! And maybe after the suppository had worked, Tony would take the day off?

She could spend the whole day in bed! Nap at will, and do fun girlie stuff. He would serve her lunch in bed, and spoon-feed her like he always did when she was sick. And maybe she could be doing some coloring for him? And they would talk and have an awesome day, of bonding and fun, and all the little things, baby-girls love to do, with cuddles and who knows what else? How awesome was that – it for sure was worth this little white lie of hers, and it sure was no big deal. If just the pain in her tummy would be as easily convinced…

“Listen, my little baby. Daddy needs to make a few phone calls, and you are obviously in some bad distress. All the crying and the sickness, must have made you all sleepy, haven’t they? So, be a good little girl, and take a nap, while Daddy will take care of the rest. I will check up on you shortly…” he said, and the voice was still firm, but so loving at the same time. “Pwomize?” the girl said with a lisp. She felt his lips on her forehead, her eyes, kissing them shut. “Big Daddy promise with a cherry on top!” he whispered before he left the room…


(c) StrictMotivation@yahoo.com ~ all rights reserved


#PS Pomp And Circumstance pt 1.05


Pomp And Circumstance / Part 1.05

{copyright 2009, revisited: 2017 (c)StrictMotivation@yahoo.com}

previous chapters: 1.01 ~ 1.02 ~ 1.03 ~ 1.04

Janette thought in a hurry. The thoughts kept racing through her like jet planes. She could confess now, but she knew how disappointed he would be. And she did not want him to be disappointed with her. Ever. It was like her heart sinking to her little pinkie toe, if he wore that frown on his face. She wanted him to pat and cuddle her, to be attentive and sweet and maybe only a tiny bit worried. Or maybe she could still get him to believe her she was sick.

Daddy, my tummy hurts so bad!” she squealed and winced and made a hurting face. That was the plan! Maybe she had no fever! And best of all, he seemed to buy that too…
“Oh my Goodness, baby-girl…. really?” he asked and his face changed from angry to worried. When she saw that, she shed a tear. She felt so ashamed of herself. Maybe she should just confess. Sure he would punish her, but then it would be over and she could stop lying to him. Her plan to cut school because of that freaking test and party plans seemed not to be the best plan of her life now – after all.

Tony got up, and left for the bath-room once more. She heard him wash his hands and open the cabinet. Now she was really worried. This could either mean one thing or another and each of them possibilities were horrible. Janette curled up in fetal position, crying softly into the sleeves of her jammies. This plan has been a stupid idea altogether, and now, oh my … no, please, Daddy, no! she bawled into her arm…

“Does it hurt that bad?” she heard his worried voice, and felt his strong, big hand stroking her hair. “Oh Daddy!” she whined and threw herself onto his lap, sobbing like a baby. He kept stroking her hair and caressing the small of her back. “Please Daddy, don’t” she begged him, when her eyes caught a glimpse of the paper box in his hand with the dreaded suppositories.

“But baby-girl, if you have a fever that comes and goes, and a hurting tummy, it sure must be a constipation!” Tony said, in a calm, reassuring voice. “I know, you do not like taking these, but you always feel so much better after, don’t you, baby?” he asked her, and the tone of his voice, his loving hands were like a fortress, an armor to her hurting heart. She so wanted to confess, now,  but then he would be so angry and disappointed and, she just could not go through with it! Her heart sank low and lower still. He was such a decent, caring man, and she had fooled him, and now she had to lie and she hated herself so bad!

Tony helped her back on her tummy, arranging pillows under her so he could access her better, and still caressing her back he waited till the worst of her crying had subsided. Then he put on the vinyl gloves, opened the paper box. He took all the time to get the suppository out of its package. “Please try to relax, baby-girl, it will sure make you feel so much better!”

He inserted the suppository and pushed it into her, slowly, with constant pressure. She hated it, but she loved how he was tender with her. Maybe it was good after all, she did not tell him the truth, because he sure would have been a lot more rough, if he had known about her trick and lies. She relaxed and sighed, almost contentedly, while Tony pulled his finger out of her and disposed of the gloves…


(c) StrictMotivation@yahoo.com ~ all rights reserved





Happy Birthday we will say
with implements, yet not a cane
not from Batman, nor Superman
just from This Old Man

On a mat of diamonds, well in shape
the wooden paddles had been laid
in Roman numbers counting out
XXIV without any doubt

Olive-wood and Sycamore
tulip wood and purple heart
they just say that 24
is like a great start

to live life not just like a beach
as do the brushes teach
made of wood from the beech
to help you all your goals to reach

#StrictMotivation 2017 (c)StrictMotivation@yahoo.com

Happy Birthday to a friend


Strict Motivation offers help reaching your worthy life goals, through working, goal oriented real life coaching, Easily affordable. Strict Motivation is created to work Long Distance, from the convenience of your home and tailored to your specific needs, including as much discretion as you desire. Your gender identity or age are of no objection to Me. Strict Motivation is a holistic step by step approach. My Successrate with willing people tops 90%. no tricks, just get better with #StrictMotivation (c)StrictMotivation@yahoo.com

defiance. the Study #SpankieMonster


you will wake up to a sealed letter by your bed, leaned against your cellphone. It is sealed with the old kind of bright red wax, and the pressed on seal flags 4 letters. SMDD. you know it means SpankieMonster Domestic Discipline and your hands are shaking, trembling as you reach for the heavy envelope. you read your name on the front and the instruction line: “to be opened before breakfast”. You turn it around and notice what you didnt notice before, that fine pencil line around the seal, saying words that make your stomach cramp up: “the letter is sealed, as is your fate, you have to break the seal of the letter, to know what that means, young lady”


if you had hoped it would be some sort of late present, maybe a gift card even, you now know better, with no uncertainty, that this letter means you are in trouble. you know that you had been visited at night and that SpankieMonster has  carefully placed the letter where you would find it, first thing in the morning.


you sit on the side of your bed mesmerized, your eyes glued to the letter, your hands trembling, your eyes starring into nothingness and veils of tears start welling up and run down your face, as your heart feels that sting. Knowing that Sir has deemed to address you with a cold letter, instead of His warm tone of voice. Not only are you in some kind of trouble, you must be in a lot of trouble


you fumble the envelope, hoping you could magically somehow undo its existance or open the thing without breaking the seal, but to no avail, and so you break the seal as instructed. It sounds remotedly like breaking apart a bar of dark chocolate and indeed it is quite bitter-sweet.


My girl, the first two words read. You close your eyes, pressing fresh creeks of tears out of them. It did  not say My *dear” girl. you try to take deep breaths, and open your eyes, using the back of your sleeves to dry the excess tears so you can continue reading the words, written with an fountain pen onto the paper

“you broke the seal with My Initials just as much as you broke My rules. But while I had beckoned you to break the seal I have not invited you to break My rules of guidance set out to guard you and keep you safe. I am appalled, young lady, that you would show defiance to rules and guidelines set out to keep you out of harms way.


I will be waiting in My study, where you will come after a simple breakfast – and thoroughly washed up with soap and cold water – since I am removing warm water privileges from you for the day. If you dont want My warm wishes of protection and guidance, you shall be presented with the cold reality in the world. While My love is unconditional, your privileges in life are very conditional and depending on the behavior you set forth


you will be wearing your punishments attire, which is a skirt ending just above your knee, and a button down dress shirt/blouse, clean simple underwear, but be else bared of all pleasant clothing: no jewelry, no socks nor shoes, no tie, no scarf and neither hairdo nor make up. your hair combed but not in any fashionable way. this is not a dress up, this will be a dress down.


Once in the study, you will have time in the corner to contemplate under My watchful eyes, the wrong of your ways, and your blatant disobedience that qualifies as defiance. After a time of contemplation in the quiet space of the corner, no less than one hour, possibly more, young lady, you will then be allowed to step out and walk in front of My heavy wooden work desk.


Here you will be made to kneel on an uneven surface for the interrogation. Depending on how you will conduct yourself during this trial time, you will receive a more gentle or more strict yet in any case a firm reminder, that as My girl you will do as you are told, and not deviate from the path of the straight and narrow set out for your safety and well being.


you will understand, in the end, that it is not about being perfect, but that trying to find reasons why rules can be broken is the worst of ideas and quite a waste of preciosu energy. you will be very certain and highly motivated – either way and what ever it takes to convince you – that defiance only hurts yourself.


I will not want to hear from you, when you come into the study, until you are asked. I will not want to hear even how you are sorry; you will feel the brunt of the isolation, that you are bringing upon yourself, My girl, when you go into defiance mode to the very rules and guidelines I am creating just for you to ensure you grow and are safe. you have deliberatedly chosen to not be held to My set out standard for you, which means I want you to feel this much on your own. your actions spoke loud and clearly, that you think you can make your own decissions, and so you will carry their burden equally isolated from My else abundant kindness, care and warmth.


Depending on your conduct, and obedience throughout these punishment measures I will decide, whether further Corrective measures be necessary, or if all that it takes, is to then apply Disciplinary means to help you keep your side of the bargain to get you to safety and well being, success and happiness throughout life.”





(c) 2016 StrictMotivation@yahoo.com