Love Our Lurkers Day!

Have you been hanging out in the shadows? Do you hide in the internet’s version of a closet, shielding yourself from all exposure with a cloak of anonymity? Many of you don’t, many more do, but whatever your choice is, it’s alright. You don’t have to give up your comfort zone to be a member of the community. All you have to do is find a way to participate.

One such way is to comment, as an anonymous visitor or using an alias. No one needs to know who you are, but that you exist and have an opinion does matter. I, like most bloggers, would love to hear from you no matter whether you want to comment positively or negatively to what I’ve shared. Of course, it takes time to become comfortable enough to do that, even behind the cloaks of the anonymity. If you aren’t ready, there is no pressure here, take your time, but if you’ve been thinking about saying something, to me or to another blogger, maybe today is a good day to give it a try. See how it feels, you might just like it.

For all my silent readers, thanks for reading and enjoying. For all those who interact by leaving comments or sending emails, thank you for encouraging me to continue. That’s really what it comes down to, if you like what I write or what someone else is writing, letting them know that you are there, that you are reading, is the best way to encourage them to continue with their efforts. So, take a minute today, if you feel ready, and say a few words in a comment to the blogger(s) you enjoy reading.

Mouthsoaping

Yuck!

Anyone who has ever gotten even a little bit of soap in their mouth knows exactly what I mean. The foul taste is often symbolic, if not ironic, in the course of mouthsoaping. It is definitely an old punishment, although certainly younger than spanking, and yet despite its effectiveness, it appears to be fading from use. The main reason is not so much that better methods have been discovered, but that in our modern understanding we have realized that ingesting soap can be more than a little hazardous to our health. As the point of punishment is to correct future behavior, it seems counter productive to risk eliminating someones future altogether.

Okay, maybe it’s not quite that bad, but soap can be toxic and anyone who engages in mouthsoaping should first be aware of the risks.

Generally, mouthsoaping has been used to correct behavioral issues directly related to the mouth. That is to refer to things one might say, such as foul language, or talking back to one’s superiors. It also might be used in response to protruding tongues, rude faces, or silent mimicking. Undoubtedly, their exists other motivations to initiate mouthsoapings, but it is rare for the motivation not to involve something related to the recipient’s mouth.

There are many different methods for carrying out a mouthsoaping. Choices include the kind of soap, direct or indirect application, and the where and how of the procedure. The choice of what kind of soap is probably the most important.

Bar soap, once the most common selection, provides a large range of possibilities in the overall procedure. Liquid soap narrows the procedural choices to an extent, but provides greater control on the amount of soap used and therefore the amount that might be ingested.

When using liquid soap an indirect application is usually preferred although not a necessity. The most common way of indirect application is via a washcloth or a sponge that has been doused in soap and water. A rich lather is worked to the surface and the soapy cloth or sponge is then inserted into the mouth. Depending on preferences, the mouthsoaping may consist of repeated insertion and withdrawals or may include a prolonged insertion.

To increase the lasting taste of soap inside the mouth, the cloth or sponge may also be rubbed against the tongue, teeth, and cheeks, ensuring that the soap is spread through out the recipient’s mouth. At the conclusion the recipient is typically allowed to moderately rinse the surface soap from their mouth. The soapy taste usually remains for  a few hours after the application, but sweets, sodas, and toothpaste can go a long way toward eradicating it.

Users of bar soap typically prefer a direct application. The bar of soap is inserted into the mouth and can be withdrawn and reinserted as preferences demand. If desired, the soap can be rubbed along the tongue and interior cheeks, as well as against the teeth. Additionally the bar may be left in the mouth for an extended period, requiring the recipient to bite down into the bar. This act will ensure the  soap is transferred to the teeth themselves.

It is not uncommon for the recipient to be given corner time with the bar of soap in their mouth or even after the mouthsoaping and prior to rinsing. As with the liquid soap the procedure ends with rinsing the mouth, but the soap taste tends to be more long lasting with bar soap. Sometimes an occasional taste can show up days later. Good oral hygiene, consuming sweets and carbonated drinks can help in minimizing the long lasting taste.

Mouthsoapings are most often given in bathrooms and kitchens although any location will do, so long as soap and water are accessible. Procedurally, the recipient is required to cooperate, minimally by opening their mouth as instructed, or more completely by being required to carryout the entire procedure themselves.

Lectures often accompany the process, making certain the recipient connects action and effect. The recipients state of dress is not always altered for the mouthsoaping, but it is not uncommon to require tops removed to avoid staining with the inevitable soap drool. In some instances the recipient may be required to undress further, although this would typically indicate further disciplinary actions such as spanking.

All things considered, it is hard to argue the effectiveness of mouthsoaping. The connection between action and effect is enhanced by the close association of inflammatory oral infractions and the foul tasting punishment. Anyone who has ever tasted soap can affirm the horrendous taste and that even the shortest application leaves a lasting impression. Through avoidance of soaps that include perfumes and deodorants in their composition it is possible to minimize the risks associated with mouthsoaping and enjoy the benefits of a very effective disciplinary tool.

Corner Time

In theory, corner time is a relatively simply method of discipline. The recipient is made to stand facing the inside joining of two walls for a period of time set by the disciplinarian. During this time, the recipient is left with nothing else to occupy their time than the emptiness of the walls they are facing and as a result they are likely to withdraw into their thoughts. If the recipient uses that time wisely and effectively, they will focus their thoughts on the events leading up to their time in the corner and determine how they could have behaved differently in order to avoid punishment.

Unfortunately, if recipients were using their time wisely and effectively, they would probably not be in the corner in the first place. For this reason corner time is rather varied in its application.

As strange as it may seem, corner time does not always need to be done in a corner. Standing, facing a wall is a quite common alteration, but in some cases the recipient might even be required to stay in a spot not near to any walls whatsoever. The act of standing might even be replaced with kneeling, sitting, bending over, or almost any position that can be imagined and maintained for a length of time. Additional variations may include a required placement of the hands; possibly on the head, behind the back, pressed against the wall, extended overhead, or straight down at the sides.

The purpose of all these variations is to make the experience unpleasant and focused. Holding a position for an extended length of time, be it five minutes or an hour, has a way of forcing a person to think about something other than their position. Of course, what they think about is very much up to them. Some will daydream about nicer days and places while others will contemplate their situation and how it came about. The former will do little to improve the situation or avoid it in the future whereas the latter goes a long way toward encouraging an individual to reconsider their actions in the future and avoid the predicament of corner time.

Naturally, every person reacts differently, but as with all punishments, consistency in application will have the best results even if the recipient is at first resistant to a logical contemplation of their actions. Over time, it will become increasingly harder for them to avoid connecting the dots and once the connection occurs a change in behavior is nearly inevitable, unless the recipient enjoys their corner time.

While corner time can be used independently as a disciplinary tool, it is often used as an accompaniment with spanking. Most commonly, it is used after a spanking giving the recipient time to collect themselves and process the swirl of emotions surrounding the disciplinary experience. In these situation it is not unusual for further modifications of the corner time such as displaying the recipient’s bare bottom or even requiring them to be in further states of undress, up to and including fully nude. Additionally, it is quite common to forbid their hands from being anywhere near their bottom or shielding their exposure from any prying eyes that might be present.

Less commonly, but not unusual in any regard, corner time may be used as a precursor to spanking. In such cases, the recipient is sent to the location with full knowledge of the impending spanking and often with little knowledge as to how long their stay in the corner will be and therefore uncertain of the imminency of their spanking. The recipient’s state of dress may again be altered under these circumstances, usually to reflect the state of dress associated with the spanking.

Another variation sometimes employed in the pre-spanking scenario is requiring the recipient to fetch and display the implement that will be used for the spanking. While the after spanking corner time is a period of calming, the pre-spanking corner time is one of agitation, for it is nearly impossible to escape the apprehensive thoughts related to the impending spanking.

On occasion, corner time is also used as a break during multi-implement or lengthy spanking sessions. Once again the state of dress may be adjusted, although most commonly these corner time breaks are done in the same state of dress or undress as the spanking. The recipient may also be required to hold an implement, either the one just used or the one to be used next and it is quite common for the recipient to be left in a position similar or an identical one to that of their spanking. Anticipation definitely clouds the calming effects of this type of corner time, but in my personal experience I consider these breaks to be generally welcome provided they don’t last too long.

Corner time is therefore a much more complicated and varied punishment than it first appears. Its very name can be misleading as to its true nature, but in principle corner time is quite consistent. The recipient is given a place and the time to contemplate their misdeeds. Although what they contemplate is very much up to the individual, it would be difficult to never consider the course events leading up to the implementation of corner time when it is used purposefully and consistently. This introspective encouraged during corner time is precisely what makes corner time such a powerful and effective disciplinary tool.

Time For An Update, Really Really Time

It’s that time again. Okay, okay, maybe it’s a little past that time, but things have been going completely off schedule and against plans of late. Don’t worry it’s not an excuse. Alright, so maybe it is, but that’s entirely beside the point.

The point is, do any of you know where the summer went? I recall May, even the beginning of June and after that it’s all one giant blur. That’s short for saying a lot of stuff happened and I’m not going to whine about it on hear for everyone to ridicule and pick apart. I know, none of you would ever do something like that.

Obviously, I’ve fallen far behind in my projects and things have gotten so bad, I can’t even manage to get weekly updates here. Life’s a mess and I’m not a maid, French or otherwise, although that might be fun some time.... Where was I? Completely lost my train of thought. Oh, right!

I’m back in school. Not high school, for heaven’s sake, I left that life a long time ago. Well maybe not a long long time ago, but long enough. I mean all last year I was heading toward what I thought was the end of my college days and then somebody had to go and have a bright idea about graduate school. It sounded so nice, serene even, and then I went to my classes and discovered there was homework and group projects and reading and well school work. Can you believe it? I mean really, why call it grad school when it’s just plain and simple school?

Let’s just say I’ve got my hands full.

Anyway, the point, as I was getting to before I so rudely interrupted myself— Does that mean I should get a spanking?

So, the point is, I’m not going to be updating quite as often as I was. That is not to say, Imagine the Stories, will be sitting dormant and unused. I am working on a few things to get it back onto a track of weekly postings, story postings, but with my rather hectic schedule it will take a little, maybe a lot, of time.

In the meantime, I will post stories whenever I can manage to get one together that actually reads like something someone might be interested in reading. Yes, that’s right, in addition to being completely swamped with responsibilities unattached to my blog I’ve encountered a period in my writing where ideas are everywhere and good ones are nowhere to be found. Well, almost nowhere, there are a few hiding behind my ears, inside my nose, maybe between my teeth and almost certainly in the crevice just beneath my butt cheeks. Okay, maybe not, but you have to admit it sounds interesting if not entirely plausible.

The moral of this meandering, totally off blog post is this: I’ll post stories when they are good and ready and not a minute sooner.

Got it? Good.

Seriously speaking, I’m working hard to get my writing back on track and I will share many more stories with all of you wonderful readers, but it will take some time. So, please hang in there, check back often, and I promise I’ll have something worth your while posted just as soon as I can. I’d give you a date if I could. I can say it won’t be this week, it might be next week or it might take another week beyond that, just depending on how my schedule works out.

Until next time, hopefully long after I resume posting regular stories, I wish you all well. Thanks for reading, supporting and enjoying all my stories. More to come, I promise.

Hugs,
Ash

Late Moira Bending

Moira gripped the folds of her sheets, bracing herself for the next touch of her hairbrush. It would not be gentle like his first laying of it against her bared buttocks. Ryan would swipe it briskly through the air, flicking his wrist just before the moment of contact and she would feel the impact from her toes to her eyes. Her customary pleas for mercy and forgiveness remained trapped inside her head. She listened to the rhythm of their breathing and waited.

The box springs creaked enhancing the relative silence in her bedroom. His warm breath tickled her disheveled hair. She felt his eyes drifting over the naked contours of her body. The gentle pressure of his hand held her in place over his lap. She strained to look at him, catching only the dark fabric of his shirt in the periphery of her vision. In her imagination there was a smile on his face. She could feel a sternness emanating from his gaze. Moira took a deep breath and held it. The moment of anticipation lingered and her thoughts floated back to the beginning.

Her afternoon tennis lesson had ran long with an unexpected coaching session in the locker room. She had rushed home, bursting through the front door out of breath. Perspiration beaded on her forehead and her tennis clothes were clinging to her damp skin. The guests were already seated. Her mother was preparing to serve dinner. They all turned to stare at Moira panting in the doorway.

“You’re late,” her mother said.

Moira bristled under the attention. “And you’re serving dinner. Shall we state any other obvious observations?”

“Someone needs an attitude adjustment,” Ryan said.

Moira smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Yes, but I’m afraid mother is a little too old for it to take.”

His eyes opened wide and a rosy blush graced his round cheeks. “I think you might want to apologize,” he said with authority.

She pretended to think for a moment, gazing up at the ceiling. “No, no I don’t think I want to do that at all.”

“What has gotten into you?” he asked.

“She’s just worried because she remembers what happened last time she was late for dinner,” her mother said to him before turning her attention to Moira. “Isn’t that right?”

Moira glared at her mother. She shuddered under the intense curiosity of the stares coming her way from around the table. The evening had been planned as a polite, quiet affair, a meeting of families. She had looked forward to it the entire week. Never in her worst nightmares had she imagined being late. That her mother might call her out on it, in front of Ryan and his parents, was beyond any comprehension. Moira wanted to turn around and run out the door, but it was too late for that.

Her mother stepped out from the table and closer to Moira. “Wasn’t it just two or three weeks ago?”

Moira’s lips pursed and she said, “A month.”

“Either way, I’m certain you remember.” Her mother smiled. It was almost sympathetic in nature, but there was a glint of pleasure in her eyes.

“Yes, mother,” Moira replied. She recalled with perfect clarity. It had been her tennis lesson or more precisely, her tennis coach to blame then as well. Her mother had not cared about excuses, not even that her bottom was still red and tingling from her coach’s ideological motivation. Moira had been sent to the closet, not to hide, but to fetch the family paddle. Her mother put it to quick use and afterward, Moira had stood nose to the corner, glowing bottom bare, and hands on her head while the family ate dinner. The embarrassment had only ended when she had finished clearing, cleaning and drying the dinner dishes. Then she had been sent to her room, to bed, without dinner.

Her mother planted her hands on her hips. “I suppose you wanted to give everyone a show tonight. Far be it for me to disappoint you.”

Moira’s face turned red. “Mother!” She stamped her foot and looked around the room, desperate to find a friendly face. “You can’t, not tonight. It’s not fair.”

“You were late. You know the rules,” her mother said and Moira protested, “But—

—There is only one butt that matters here and its the one you are about to bare and have spanked,” her mother said.

Moira’s gaze fell to her feet. She stood speechless, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room looking her over. Sweat beaded on her forehead giving her reddened features a glossy glow in the chandelier’s light. She may as well have been standing center stage under a spotlight.

Her mother said, “I think you’ve wasted enough of our time, young lady. Get your bottom bare and bring me the paddle. And be quick about it. You don’t want dinner to get cold if you know what’s good for you.”

“It’s not like I’ll be eating it either way,” Moira said in a barely audible voice.

She felt her mother’s cold glare and glanced at Ryan hoping for sympathy and support, but finding only a pair of raised eyebrows questioning her sanity. Moira rolled her eyes to the ceiling and reached under her skirt to lower her panties to her knees. She shuffled to the closet while tucking her skirt up in the back. With her bare backside exposed she knew she should have been utterly ashamed. Instead, she felt silly. Moira smiled as she opened the closet and jiggled her bottom as provocatively as she could without bursting out laughing.

The paddle rocked from side to side on its hook inside the the closet door until she lifted it free. It was oak, heavy and large enough to cover her bottom from left to right in a single swat. She held it by the worn handle, closed the closet door and shuffled to stand before her mother. The amusement faded from her lips and eyes when her mother took the paddle. No matter the situation, being spanked with the paddle hurt.

Her mother stepped behind her waving the paddle in the air. “Grab your knees,” her mother ordered and Moira complied with only the slightest of hesitation. The paddle swooshed through the air, impacting Moira’s bottom with an ear-popping crack. Moira blinked and inhaled sharply.

“Someday you’ll learn the value of timeliness,” her mother said and swung the paddle. The crack of contact made everyone in the room blink. Moira rocked forward onto her toes and bent her knees temporarily. Her bottom had been pink and tender to begin with and the two swats had brought out a red glow and deep burning.

Moira blinked back tears and feigned nonchalance. “Is that all?” She asked.

The paddle cracked against her bottom, bounced into the air and cracked again. Moira yelped. Her mother said, “I think a few more still. I wouldn’t want your bottom to get cold in the corner.”

A single teardrop slid from Moira’s eye. Her mother would have been satisfied if she had seen it, but from her vantage point it was impossible. She swung the paddle, catching the lower half of Moira’s buttocks, raising her bottom on impact. Another tear slipped down Moira’s cheek. The paddle impacted another six times leaving Moira sniffling and wiping tears from her red face. Her bottom glowed brightly, trembling in discomfort.

“Are you going to be late for dinner again?” her mother asked, holding the paddle at her side.

Moira remained bent over and debated what answer she could give that would not result in more swats. “Probably,” she said biting her lip, “but I’ll do my best to avoid it.”

“See that you do,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Off to the corner with you and don’t even think about rubbing.”

In the dining room corner, Moira stood with her back to the table. Her bottom throbbed and burned making certain she could not forget the red bottomed view everyone else had of her. She kept her nose buried into the wall, her fingers interlaced atop her head and tried to pretend she was not embarrassed.

When they finished with dinner, Moira left the corner to clear the table and clean the dishes in the kitchen. Afterward, she rejoined the others in the living room, her panties still around her knees and skirt tucked up in the back. Ordinarily she would have been sent to her room at that point, but with Ryan and his parents visiting, Moira was required to remain present. She stood quietly off to the side of the couch intending to keep her head down and her mouth shut. Unfortunately, she was still the center of attention.

Moira’s mother turned to her and said, “Although I’m sure your glowing performance has made quite the impression, might you have something to say for yourself?”

Moira’s response was silent, short, succinct and entirely vulgar.

Ryan stepped in before her mother could respond. “I think Moira and I need to have a little talk, in private.”

Moira looked at him, wide-eyed.

Her mother said, “I don’t think talking is going to handle it.”

Ryan smiled at her mother. “Trust me,” he said with a wink, “I know exactly how to handle her.”

Moira crossed her arms in front of her and said, “You wish.”

He pointed to the stairs behind Moira and said, “If you’re smart, you are going to march right up to your bedroom and wait for me.”

She tapped her foot and clicked her tongue at him. “And if I’m not?”

“You’ll keep standing there and mouthing off until I decide to stick a bar of soap in your mouth,” Ryan said.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Moira said, gazing into his eyes.

“Upstairs,” he said pointing in the direction of them. “Unless you want to find out what I’ll dare to do.”

She could easily ignore his threats, but the authoritativeness in  his voice gave her pause. Moira hesitated, searching his face for the truth of his intentions. His bubbly cheeks had gone firm and his expressive eyes had grown cold. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the stairs. She felt it was the last warning he would give. Moira turned and scurried up the stairs as fast as the binding of her lowered panties would allow. Her bedroom door slammed closed behind her and a moment later, she heard his footsteps climbing the stairs.

Moira sat, trembling on her bed. Ryan entered her room, closed the door behind him and motioned for her to stand. She chewed on her lip, but did as he expected. He sat on the bed in the spot she had just vacated and grabbed hold of her arm with a gentle yet firm grasp. She was flipped over his lap, before she even understood what was happening. He tapped her hairbrush against her naked buttocks, surprising her because she had never seen him grab it. She braced for the inevitable.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear and then straightened himself, tapping the brush against her bottom, “but I will never tolerate the kind of behavior you’ve been displaying tonight. If I have to put you to bed every night with this hairbrush, I’ll do it and eventually you will learn to behave like a good wife.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Moira said.

“You will be soon enough,” Ryan said.

Moira smiled away from his view and silently dared him to follow through with his threat. She pushed her bottom up as high as she could and waited for the first smack of the brush. He did not keep her waiting long and when he finished branding her bottom an even brighter and darker red, he tucked her beneath her covers. He kissed away the tears on her cheeks and left her to dream of the life he was offering.