Sore Losers

'And the Triple Word Score makes it thirty-three,' said Peter, nudging the last of his letter tiles into place.

'Funny,' mused Alan from the other side of the table as he studied the playing board. 'When I was at school, zero was zero whether you tripled it or not.'

'When you were at school multiplication hadn't been invented,' retorted Pete, despite the fact that at forty-two he was barely three years younger than the other man. 'In any case,' he continued with exaggerated patience, 'I'm not tripling zero. I'm tripling eleven.' He tapped each letter in turn. 'Three, four, eight, nine, eleven.'

'I can see the numbers,' said Alan, 'and I can see the letters. What I'm not seeing is any English word that exists outside of your wishful thinking.'

'Let it go, Alan,' said his fiancée Lucy - lightly, but with just a hint of warning in her tone. Although she enjoyed having her friend Jenny visit, the childish sniping between their menfolk was always wearing and tonight it had reached fever pitch.'We don't have a dictionary to hand, so you boys are just going to have to play nicely and give one another the benefit of the doubt - for once. Which would be a welcome change, wouldn't it Jen?'

'A welcome change and a bloody miracle,' replied her friend wearily. 'I don't know that word either though, Pete. You sure it doesn't have an A after the O?'

Her husband scowled.

'Jesus, Jenny. Whose side are you on?'

'Mine, sweetie. Last time I checked, this wasn't a team game - if you're losing then it's all your own work. And if you're going to sulk about it, then we'll be having a little discussion regarding that when we get home.'

Peter's mouth opened but then shut again, and he coloured visibly. A moment later he reached out to retrieve two of his letter tiles and closed the gap to form a shorter word.

Alan studied his rival's offering with a smirk of derision. 'C-O-N, con - how appropriate - and worth a frankly underwhelming six.' He retrieved the pencil from the centre of the table and neatly wrote the figure under Peter's name, overscoring it several times for emphasis. 'Not exactly a winning word, ladies and gentleman - but at least this time he had some kind of a clue how to spell it.'

'Here's a clue for you,' muttered Peter evenly, as he reached for the bag to replenish his pieces but found it empty. 'This one's two words. Starts with 'f' and ends in 'uck you'.

For a moment nobody spoke. Then 'Enough,' said Jenny, pushing her chair back from the table and turning to her friend. 'Lucy, honey, do you have somewhere private I can take my husband for a few minutes?'

Peter blanched. 'Ok, sweetheart,' he said quickly, his hands raised in a gesture of supplication. 'Forget I said that. I take it back.'

Jenny placed her own palms flat on the tabletop and bent so that her face was level with his. 'I'm not your sweetheart right now, and you're certainly not mine. And it's a little late for you to be taking anything back, but just exactly the right time for me to be taking something down. Lucy, sorry to be a nuisance...'

'Not at all,' said her friend with a small shake of her head that made her pony tail bounce. 'You can use our bedroom, second on the right. There's a straight-backed chair in the corner that tends to come out when necessary.'

'Ooh, that sounds perfect. And I don't suppose you have a...'

'Top drawer of the dressing table,' said Lucy. 'Always close to hand.' She laced her fingers beneath her chin, rested her bare elbows on the table and cocked an eyebrow at Alan. 'Isn't it, young man? Needed it quite a lot lately yourself, haven't you?'

Alan, apparently absorbed, slid his letter tiles carefully from side to side while he studied the tabletop. 'Mm-hmm,' he said.

'Speaking of which,' said Jenny, 'I believe it's your turn to play, Luce. And you can take your time. There'll be no rush.' She reached over and used two fingers to issue a brisk tap to the back of Peter's wrist. 'Follow me, mister,' she said. Turning on her heel, she strode purposefully from the room. Peter sat frozen for a moment until Lucy caught his eye. 'Off you go, little boy, and get your medicine,' she chided, and he reluctantly stood and made his way out. Moments later there was the sound of the bedroom door closing softly behind him.

For almost five minutes Lucy sat studying and rearranging her letters while her fiancée fidgeted in his seat and their guests were occupied down the hall. One might have expected the noise issuing from the couple's bedroom - the lengthy scolding, the muted apologies and the eventual rhythmic thwop of hairbrush against bare skin - to spoil her concentration. Yet it only seemed to inspire her. A small, amused smile played across her lips whenever the brush found a spot that produced a muffled yelp from the other room. 'Con,' she half-sang under her breath as she considered her move. 'Con, con, con...' Finally she sighed happily and began to transfer her tiles to the board, appending them to the three that the luckless Peter had already put down. 'T - R - I - T - I - O - N,' she recited. 'That makes twelve altogether, plus the fifty point bonus for using all of my letters at once.' She sat back and regarded Alan with a satisfied expression. 'Bingo,' she said.

A few moments later their friends reappeared, Jenny with a contented glow and Peter looking red-faced and flustered. His arms were held stiffly at his side and his fingers waggled involuntarily as though he were fighting the urge to rub his behind. He spent an agonised few seconds lowering himself back onto his chair.

Retaking her own seat, Jenny looked over the board. 'Ooh, you are a clever old thing, Lucy. That's a great word.'

'Glad you think so,' smiled the other woman. 'It's one of my favourites.' She turned to her fiancée, who seemed to be taking surprisingly little pleasure in the other man's discomfort. 'Your turn, Alan,' she said.

'But the game's over,' he replied a little uncertainly. 'You've won.'

'Oh, I'm not talking about the game,' said Lucy.

'I had a hunch,' chuckled Jenny, 'so I've left everything out for you.'

'Thanks, Jen,' replied her friend with a wink. 'The only question is - shall I make coffee now, or after we come back? I have a feeling we may be some time.'

Equipment Failure

I've been meaning to follow up this post in which my stepsister Wanda was going on about the disciplinary training at her office - and now I have! :)

*********************************************************************************

Kevin Peters could scarcely remember spending a more uncomfortable morning at OSIRIS. Wanda, his overbearing and frankly sadistic line manager, had insisted he facilitate that day's course - Disciplinary Techniques - for the new female intake. Given just a day's notice Kevin had booked the training room, printed and bound manuals, sourced equipment, attached diagrams to whiteboards, and sent out invitations. With an empathetic shudder he had secured two well-used caning dummies - stitched and stuffed, he knew, by inmates of the local men's prison - to heavy tables.

Finally satisfied, if more than a little apprehensive, he had waited at the door to distribute the course books and the long, whippy OSIRIS-issue canes to the arriving trainees. Here they came, giggling in anticipation, one or two of them taking the opportunity to upbraid him for no good reason - trying out their newly-appointed roles as managers of men.

The air of expectation only increased with the entrance of Dana 'The Caner Trainer' Balewa. The statuesque and beautiful Nigerian, five-inch heels clacking on the linoleum, swept through the doorway and homed in on Kevin without breaking stride. Leaning so close that the heady mix of her perfume and her warm breath made his head swim, she reached around the bundle of canes in his arms to straighten the knot of his tie.

'You're one of Wanda's, aren't you?' she mused as if to herself. 'Yes,' said the young man; and a moment later added a hurried 'ma'am', in response to an almost imperceptible raising of her eyebrow.

Sliding one of the wicked implements from his grip, the tall woman flexed it appraisingly until it formed an almost circular frame for her steely gaze. 'I just met her in the canteen. She said she'd be along shortly to see how well you've done. Or... not.' She approached one of the dummies and, frowning, traced a long fingernail over the threadbare fabric stretched across its rump. 'This naughty boy's seen some action, hasn't he? I'd say he's just about to go pop!' She leaned over to examine the other dummy. 'And if anything, this one's even worse. You do have replacements lined up, I take it?'

Kevin felt his face flush crimson and his jaw slacken. There was no chatter in the room now, and one or two of the delegates were openly smirking at the exchange. His mouth was still working ineffectually several seconds later when Wanda appeared at his shoulder. 'All set?'

'I... think so,' faltered Kevin. 'Shall I just leave these things here? I do have that report to be getting on with.'

Wanda wagged a finger in mock rebuke. 'Before we've even started? Which part of 'facilitate' don't you understand, Mr Peters? No, you can stay put for the duration. You have the whole evening to make sure that document's on my desk first thing tomorrow.'

And so Kevin did stay put, as Ms Balewa laid stroke after laser-guided stroke across the first dummy's bulging behind while her awestruck students watched and learned and eagerly awaited their turns.

When the time came, some of those young women were suspiciously adept. Others were hopelessly off-target. All were wildly enthusiastic, and every one of them terrified Kevin Peters. Gradually the damage to the dummy's rear became untenable. Kevin watched, dismayed, as a tiny opening appeared in the tortured material and a single white feather worked its way through it and floated ominously to the floor. It only took another two strokes for the fabric to split completely, disgorging its downy contents into the air and prompting a triumphant cheer from the assembled women.

And Dana Balewa had been right about the other dummy - it didn't even survive her second demonstration, bursting at an overstressed seam as the cane thudded home. This time the applause was short-lived, the trainees sensing an early end to their entertainment; and as it died away Kevin became aware that Wanda was speaking into his ear in the sing-song stage whisper she reserved for such occasions. 'Oh dear, Kevin. A little lacking in preparation, wouldn't you say? We have the whole afternoon reserved for practice, and nothing to practise on. Do you have any suggestions?' She leaned a little closer, and used the palm of her hand to deliver two sharp swats to the seat of his trousers.

'Any ideas, Kevin?' she said. 'Any ideas at all?'

...And A Slappy New Year

So, just an hour or two short of 2013 - and I haven't even got around to wishing you all a Merry Christmas yet! I hope you and yours had a peaceful and suitably festive time. And if you happened to unwrap something that suggested your name had come up on the naughty list - well, at least it's better than socks again. Isn't it?

Thanks so much to everyone, whether a regular or occasional visitor, for your support during the last twelve months. And may the new year bring you all the slappiness you deserve!

Rear Window - Love Our Lurkers Day 7

'That's a secret, private world you're looking into out there. People do a lot of things in private they couldn't possibly explain in public.'

That's Detective Doyle from the 1954 Hitchcock classic Rear Window, in which an invalided James Stewart passes the time by obsessively watching his neighbours from the back room of his New York apartment. That we're not repelled by his behaviour is partly down to the actor's everyman charm, but also surely because in him we recognise the voyeur - the 'lurker' - in all of us. Put yourself in Mr Stewart's shoes (or rather in his plaster cast and wheelchair) and you can well understand his temptation. Now add a small plot twist that substitutes a spanked husband for a murdered wife, and try to tell me you wouldn't peep - just a little.

It's fun to watch, and if you can do so unobserved then why not? I have hundreds of visitors pass through here every day, and only a very few of them stop to say hello. Today's the day - organised by the wonderful Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts - when we celebrate that silent majority of people across the world who keep our hit counters ticking over and make the effort of blogging worthwhile. Many, many spanking bloggers will be making special 'Love Our Lurkers' posts and I encourage you to stop by as many as possible.

Thank you all, sincerely, for your visits - whether or not you leave a comment. But if you've ever been looking for an excuse to contribute for the first time, then why not do so right now? I'd love to hear from you! Tell me a little about yourself, say what you like and don't like, ask me stuff - it's all good. Or just pop your head up and say 'hi'.

All you regulars are more than welcome to chip in as well, of course!

By the way, no doubt you're going to find today's animation something of a tease. But by way of incentive, I promise that if enough newbies say hello over the next few days then the light will be staying on in future! :)

The Magnificent Seven

Spanking bloggers are a marvellously supportive bunch, and none more so than the wonderful Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts.

Each year she organises 'Love Our Lurkers' Day, which on Friday 9 November will celebrate its seventh iteration. On that day I (and many, many other spanko bloggers) will make a special post in which we pay tribute to those ninja-like visitors who pass shyly through our portals without going near the Comment button - and encourage them, should they feel inclined, to say hello for the first time. Regular friends are also welcome to chip in, of course!

This will be Underling's Humblings' third LOL Day - to get a flavour of how it works, you can find previous years' posts here and here.

I'll look forward to seeing you on the day!

Oh, this picture is an oldie - although now in super-large, super-sharp png format. The post it originally belonged to got deleted somehow in a (thankfully rare) moment of Undy ineptitude, and since it's one of my favourites drawings I thought it would be a shame not to have it somewhere on the site. Sincere apologies to anyone who'd added comments to that original post!

'This Is Not What It Looks Like...'

...except, of course, that it is. You know it, and they know it, and now you've got some 'splaining to do.

I think it's safe to say that nearly all of us have felt awkward about our kink at some point. For most of us it started as a closely guarded secret, and for many it still is.

After living with this peculiar obsession pretty much all my life, I'm still fairly private about it. I'm happily chatting, meeting and playing with like-minded people, but I'm by no means ready for that conversation with 'regular' friends and family - and it's quite possible I never will be. I guess realistically this only gives me an 'outed-ness rating' of about 10%, since being accepted by your fellow kinksters ain't too much of a challenge!

That said, there have been some close calls and minor revelations over the years, and that's the topic of today's post.

One event that comes to mind for me occurred not long after I'd started living with my first long-term girlfriend (cue wavy 'flashback' visual effect). Ours was a very 'vanilla' relationship, but fun and fulfilling - and I didn't want to scare her with this spanko stuff, so I kept it quiet and limited my indulgence to the occasional trading of playful swats. And 'normal' couples do that too, right? Anyway, early one morning I had an errand to run and I'd left her in bed. I'd also left, inadvertently, an erotic paperback book lying around that until that point I'd had safely hidden away. It was probably nothing that would shock today's '50 Shades' generation - just something from the top shelf of a rail station bookseller featuring, if I remember rightly, a girls' college where the young ladies were subject to the regular use of cane and strap by a cheerfully sadistic headmistress. Or some such improbable but delicious scenario.

I realised my indiscretion before I could get home, but was hoping I'd return to find my other half still snuggled under the duvet - which I did, but apparently she'd been up and about in the meantime.

'Hello,' says I.

'Hello,' says she. 'Interesting book you have there. You like that kind of thing?'

I'm quite sure I flushed a deep crimson, and I'm ashamed to say I think I may have blurted out that horrible old cliché about just being 'curious'. Of course that was never going to be sufficient explanation, but luckily kisses are a good distraction tool. I do remember that a minute later I was back in bed, engaged in the kind of vigorous lovemaking that is not only a lot of fun but encourages girlfriends to forget to ask any more needless questions about boring old books. As it happens, I also remember that as some of the best sex we'd ever had. Who knows - perhaps I did find it a turn-on to have been 'discovered'.

Now this being real life, there was no glorious revelation that she too had only been waiting for the right moment to confess a similar disciplinary obsession. We weren't destined to grow old together while spanking one another silly. But nor did she threaten to call the police, or pack her bags, or move into the spare room. We simply carried on as before, until our relationship had run its natural course, and every now and again she'd tease me about my little predilection - but I never did reveal its full extent. I sometimes wonder how things would have turned out if I had. Certainly I'd never make the mistake again of hiding something from a partner that was such an important part of me.

So, that's me, but I'm sure lots of you have similar anecdotes about your little predilections first being revealed, or nearly being revealed, whether deliberately or by accident - and I'm hoping you'll share them. Was it to a friend, partner, colleague, family member? How did he or she react? Did you make excuses, cover it up, or come clean? And I guess most interestingly: did you regret it, or did it - as I'm suspecting is sometimes the case - turn out to be a huge weight off your mind?



I've done a little recycling to illustrate this post. The animation is an updated version of one I briefly had up a long time ago, to advertise a fun short film I was working on with a spanko sitcom theme. It doesn't 'do' anything yet, I'm afraid, so don't bother clicking around! :) I'm using it because it fits the topic and also because I've just returned to that project, this time determined to finish it - and I'm going to need some people to do the voices for Madeleine and Scott. My first choices would have been Angelina and Brad, but strangely their agents have yet to get back to me. So if any of you have voice acting skills and want to get involved, I'd love to hear from you.

Oh, and if you can't see the animation then you may need to go and get Flash.

I Believe You've Met My Sister

25 September 2012

To: Underling
From: Wanda.Ling@OSIRISTechWorks.com
Subject: Hi!

Hey there, Undypoo!

How's it going, step-bro? Sorry it's been a while, but things have been pretty damned busy here. Or rather, my little men have been pretty damned busy and I've been making pretty damned sure they stay that way!

Can you believe I've been with OSIRIS nearly two years already? Mind you, team lead after six months and department head less than a year later - not too shabby, is it? Of course, now I'm looking after Human Resources there's a whole heap of important decisions to make. Like, who gets promoted (pretty much the girls) and who gets their bare bottoms whipped (hmmm... oh yeah, the boys!)

We're actually getting a new intake of female grads next week, so I've got my hands full organising induction and training sessions. Management 101 starts on Tuesday, but it's all a bit dull until we get to Day 3: Discipline. That's definitely my favourite part of the course - I love to see those girls' faces light up when they first get their hands on a cane, LOL!

Of course the guidelines say they have to practise on stupid stuffed dummies. Yaaaaawn! I'm badgering Head Office about that - it's not like there aren't plenty of live 'dummies' available - but in the meantime I have to entertain myself by dragging the odd team member into the sessions and scaring the living daylights out of him.

Last month it was Daniel - that beautiful young guy we took on last year? Timid as anything, and so damned diligent I thought I was never going to have a reason to bend him over my desk and bare that tight little tush :(. God, Undy, you should have seen him wriggle when I 'invited' him to watch the implement training. "Wanda, I have that deadline today"... "Wanda, I'm expected at the team meeting"... "Wanda, I'm a whiney little boy who's afraid of his own shadow"... Anyway, needless to say I insisted he come along. In fact, I made him stay all afternoon so he didn't miss a single stroke.

Well, he was white as a sheet by the end of it. Can't say I blame him, really - chief trainer Dana ('Dana The Caner Trainer', LOL!) likes to put on a good show, and once it's their turn those new girls do get a bit carried away. They scare me sometimes! Anyway, the best part is that I just found out Daniel did miss that deadline. I wonder how that happened, haha! So guess who's going to have an email in his inbox tomorrow morning, inviting him to my office?

Did I mention how awesome this job is?

Love ya. Be good!

Wanda. xx

P.S. Oh, I mentioned to Marilyn about your department downsizing. She said if they do lay you off I should forward your details - she's pretty sure she could find a spot for you here. You might even end up reporting to me! Wouldn't that be fun, sweetie? Well, wouldn't it?! ROFL!!!