Confessions of a Paddled Princess pt 1

I have toyed with the idea of writing a memoir about my life in Domestic Discipline, but two things are stopping me. First is the fact that I have always thought that autobiographies are nothing but pure narcissism. Don’t get me wrong, all published works are acts of narcissism: we as writers not only believe our work is good, but we know you will think it is good too! But memoirs are a special kind of narcissistic. While I might write a snappy little piece of spanking fiction (don’t worry, new tab!), it’s just that: fiction. Characters and situations that I came up with. They don’t exist, they live in my head. And you if you read my story, your head as well. But with a memoir, the author believes that you are so engrossed with their life that you will spend hours going through hundreds of pages to read about where they’ve been and what they’ve done. And maybe you will. A different kind of narcissism.

The other reason is bit more tangible. Amazon has an iron-clad policy against publishing works that involve sexual situations with minors. And that is a policy that I completely understand and agree with! But it makes it difficult to publish a memoir dealing with my life as a spanko that starts quite a bit before my 18th birthday. With that in mind, if you have any objection to material that involves a less-than-adult version of me in sexual situations, please don’t read any further.These stories aren’t necessarily intended to arouse, but arouse they might, and I certainly don’t want anyone to be offended by the content or narcissism of publishing these stories.

And if you are? Oh well, spank me!

Growing up, my parents never spanked me. It’s not that they didn’t believe in it. My mother would threaten it whenever she felt it would get her point across, and on more than one occasion my father told my older sister he would take his belt to her if she didn’t start acting her age. That always shut her right up, which led me to believe she had prior experience with that scenario, but she would never tell me, and I wasn’t about to ask Daddy.

Just because I was never spanked, didn’t mean I wasn’t keenly aware of it. I knew my friends parents spanked them. They never talked about it when they could avoid it, but when I asked them what they were doing after school and I was told, “homework” I knew what that meant. Or rather, I imagined what that meant. I fantasized about what that meant. It didn’t occur to me that I could spank myself until much later in life, and that always proved to be fruitless. So I was left with an overactive imagination about what a spanking was like and no way to scratch that itch. Mind you, the internet was a thing by this time, but my father was not keen on having it tie up the phone line in the house. It would be another two years before we got that luxury, and by the time internet (and internet porn) was a thing on cellphones, most of my questions had been answered.

On the days when my friends were “doing homework” I would go straight home and pull out a dated copy of Webster’s Dictionary from under my bed and flip to the S’s. The page with the word ‘spank’ was dogeared and discolored from being opened there some many times. I would read the definition over and over, the closest thing to pornography I had. Often I would find myself subconsciously grinding my hips against a pillow. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew it felt good, and I knew that reading the formal definition of spanking made it better. I would hump my pillow for hours until my parents got home. I never got close to actually climaxing… jeans and panties and not knowing how to use one’s hand prevented that, but the act was there, and spanking was the catalyst.

I was fourteen when I finally got the opportunity to see first hand what I spent so many afternoons dreaming about. I got permission to ride the bus home with my friend Becca. She lived in the subdivision across the street and my mom wasn’t home to drive me over and she didn’t like me crossing the busy intersection. Becca lived in what my mother called ‘The Hills’ although it would be a while before I understood the reference. Becca’s parents were well off and it showed. Their house was massive and well decorated and always spotless. Very different from our small house with two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. Becca had her own room with a private bath and a TV and video games and a laptop. We spent the afternoon playing Playstation and flipping through fashion magazines. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until the phone rang downstairs.

Becca’s face went completely pale and she started to shiver. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me it was probably time I went home. I looked at my plastic Disney Princess watch. It was 4:30pm. My mom wouldn’t be over to pick me up until 5pm.

“I can’t go yet, Becca. What’s wrong?” I asked.

She grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet. “Nothing, it’s just I don’t feel good. You should go wait downstairs.” She tried to pull me towards the door, but I dug my feet into the carpet and wouldn’t budge.

“Becca, what is going on?” I demanded.

She tugged harder. I pulled back and she lost her grip. I fell on my butt and stared up at her. She was ghost white and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Her fingers trembled. I started to stand up when the door into Becca’s room burst open, slamming against the pink wall. Her mother stood in the doorway, her face red, her mouth twisted into a frown. She held a wooden spoon and tapped it gravely against her open palm.

Becca whirled around. “Mommy, please,” she started.

Her mother burst in and grabbed Becca by the wrist. Her body went limp, and her mother dragged her to the bed, amidst kicking and pleading.

“Mommy, no, Asti’s here. Please, pleeeeeeeease,” she wailed.

“I cannot believe you!” her mother shrieked. She was in her own world, not hearing her daughter’s cries, oblivious to my presence. “Skipping class? Again?! Get over here!”

Tears streamed down her face. Her mother grabbed the waist of her jeans and Becca jumped back. “No, please.”

Her mother either didn’t hear her or pretended not to. She unbuttoned Becca’s jeans and yanked them down with her panties in one quick motion. A look of horror flashed across Becca’s face as she stood naked, a patch of bright red public hair visible for all to see. Her nudity only lasted a second as her mother pulled her over her knee and started to spank her with the spoon.

I was in shock. I had always imagined a spanking to be calm and collected with a hand (or as my father threatened, with a belt) and for it to take a while before you cried. None of that happened. Becca was bawling as soon as the spoon smacked her naked butt. Her mother brought the spoon down with such speed and force I was sure the sound barrier was about to be broken. She didn’t listen to her daughters cries or pleas. Becca’s butt got redder and redder, the spoon left a phantom outline after each swat.

I’m not sure how long it lasted. Long enough that Becca eventually stopped pleading and then even stopped crying. The only sound she made was a pitiful gasp each time her mother spanked her. When she was done every inch of Becca’s bottom was a deep red and sweat dripped from her forehead. She dropped the spoon on the ground and told Becca to stand in corner. Becca did as she was told, weakly getting off her mother’s knee and shuffling to the corner with her jeans and panties around her feet.

Her mom turned to me. “Asti, you should wait downstairs for your mother.”

I scrambled to my feet and hightailed it down to the living room. I heard the bedroom door shut behind me. I waited by the front door with my backpack in hand ready to go as soon as my mother’s sedan pulled into the driveway. Becca’s mother yelled at her, her voice obscured by the closed door and distance, but the sound of more smacks to Becca’s bottom were clear as day. I rushed out when my mother’s call pulled in. She tried to talk to me about my day, but my mind was elsewhere. Mostly back in Becca’s room, watching her mom swing the wooden spoon like a woman possessed while her daughter struggled over her knee.

I didn’t realize it until I got home and up to my room, but my panties were soaked. Mixed emotions ate at me. Fear, disbelief, excitement. I spaced out through most of dinner and when I crawled into bed that evening I lay on my stomach with my pillow between my legs. No amounting of humping would make the lingering fire in my groin go away. I touched myself over my pajama bottoms but didn’t dare go any further. I eventually rolled over and drifted to sleep, horny and confused. I finally saw what I always wanted: a real spanking. But rather than being satisfied, I would more curious than ever.


Free Book!

I promised it was coming! My short erotica “College Submission” is officially free starting today! This promotion will run from 10/20/16 through 10/24/16. You can click here to go straight to the Amazon page (opens in a new window) and download the book for free for the next 5 days! You can also follow the image link at the bottom.

If you happen upon this post outside of that time frame, you can still download the book for free as a member of Kindle Unlimited.

Once you’ve read the book, please take a moment to leave a review. Be sure to follow this blog as well for updates on more free and reduced price promotions on all my books!

In anticipation of this event, I asked Sir to help me redesign the cover because I felt the first one wasn’t professional enough. I loved the original image, but it just didn’t get the point across what the story was about. I hope you like the new cover better, and after you read the story, I think you’ll agree that it fits the theme of the story. You can click the cover below for a free download of “College Submission.”


Belt or Paddle… why not both?

I’ll admit it right now, I’m a sucker for the belt. The sound of a belt being unbuckled always sends a shiver of excitement down my spine. Thankfully, that’s not a sound one hears outside of a bedroom, so the instantaneous arousal that comes with is usually a plus! It’s not just the sound of the buckle, it’s the whoosh a belt makes as it slices through the air and the crack of leather striking my naked ass. A belt can be doubled over so it hits in the middle, rolled around a hand so only the stinging end is used. It’s quick, painful and always at the ready: no need to prepare implements or pause the frisky times to find something in the heat of the moment.

But then there’s the paddle. A classic of discipline the world over. No doubt just the word paddle puts the fear of God into anyone that went to public school in the South. It’s the mainstay for disobedient school children and many DD’ers. And why not? It certainly gets the job done. The paddle can do in 8 swats what the belt accomplishes over a couple minutes. It’s heavy, firm and applies a healthy wallop to the entire bottom. Not to mention that a well paddled lady is going to have some difficult sitting days ahead of her. I have a paddle hanging from the wall next to my bed for easy access if Sir deems it necessary. But the paddle has an air of formality to it that doesn’t lend itself to erotic or playful spanking… when the paddle comes out, I know I’m in for it and Sir means business. When I need punished that’s just fine–or rather it’s not fine but what can I say? I’ll take the casual ease of pulling out a belt and dishing out the discipline, whether its erotic or punishment, any day.

Sure, there’s other implements, too. Hairbrush, slipper, crop, wire coat hanger, extension cord, cane… yeah, I’ve got all of those in the arsenal. Wouldn’t it be great if there was an implement that combined the punishment of the paddle with the potential for a long, sensual spanking like a belt? Well, great news, there is! Enter the leather paddle. We invested in a leather paddle soon after getting together. Well, invested is the wrong word since our leather paddle didn’t last long. That’s the only downside to leather: it wears out right along with your bottom! We’ve gone through plenty of leather paddles, but it’s my implement of choice (second to the belt!). Sir knows this of course, so when it’s punishment time, it’s nowhere to be found, but for the fun times, it always makes its way into the rotation.

I love the leather paddle so much I worked it into my latest story “Painful Choices” as the implement of choice. It’s hurts enough to deliver a much needed lesson to a naughty young lady, but it doesn’t deliver a full-bodied blow like a wooden paddle, so the punishment can last long enough to make it worth the read! In “Painful Choices” Stacey takes a blistering twenty-one (well, twenty-two) licks with the leather paddle… and finds out that she rather likes it. You can check out “Painful Choices” here for free through Kindle Unlimited. Also, be sure to follow my blog for the notice of when my story “College Submission” will be free for everyone!

So what do you think of the leather paddle? Do you have a different favorite implement? Sound off in the comments!

Painful Choices

I made the choice to be in a Domestic Discipline relationship because that is how I like to live my life. I like being told what to do and when; I like being told what to wear; I like having a schedule and a routine and definite consequences for failing to live up to the standards Sir has set for me. I realize that such an arrangement is not for everyone. I went into our relationship knowing there would be times when I couldn’t sit after a spanking. I knew there would be times when I just didn’t want to follow the rules or be told what to do, and I knew there would be consequences for that whether I liked it not. I knew that there was no safe word for a relationship. I knew I wanted to submit to Sir and be his and only his, even when sometimes it would be easier to be in a normal relationship.

There have been times when they choice has been tested. But I always remind myself that every relationship is going to go through ups and downs, and the only difference is that I have a loving man who is willing to put me in my place when I get bratty or want to fight back. While I certainly wouldn’t advocate any man ‘putting his woman in her place’ outside the context of a DD relationship, it works for us. Even when I am at my lowest–or brattiest–after a good spanking I am always back where I need to be. Cool, calm and content. And I love him for doing that for me.

Being a submissive means that after the initial choice of being in a DD relationship, most choices are made for me. While that would drive some women insane, it works perfectly for me. Not having to worry about what is for dinner, or what to wear, or what we’re going to do, allows me to focus more on what matters to me: pleasing Sir and my writing. In my most recent story, a girl named Stacey is faced with a difficult choice. She gets busted for shoplifting and must decide whether to face the police or the leather paddle from the shop’s muscled, biker owner. I think you know what I would choose, and since it’s a spanking story, I bet you can guess how it goes down!

That story is called “Painful Choices” and is currently being reviewed for submission by Amazon. Just like my first story “College Submission” this one is $2.99 but also available for FREE through the Kindle Unlimited program and Kindle Owner’s Lending Library. I will also be making “College Submission” FREE to everyone for a few days to celebrate the launch of my new story and the unexpected quick success of this blog. Please take a moment to follow me so you can receive an email alert when “Painful Choices” goes live and when you can download “College Submission” completely free!


I also love to hear from everyone, so please feel free to comment on any of my posts, and I promise I’ll respond as soon as possible!

Sunday Spanking

I am typing this from my iPhone while standing in the corner of my room. Sir says I’m not allowed to leave the corner–or pull my panties up–until I’m done. That’s fine with me, I enjoy the corner time aspect of a spanking. It’s a relaxing time for me to reflect on what I did wrong and why I earned a spanking in the first place. In this case, I get some time to myself to reflect on the prior week and what I need to do the coming week to keep myself out of trouble.

For as long as Sir and I have been a couple, Sunday has always been maintenance spanking day. A maintenance spanking is harder than an erotic spanking, but nowhere near the intensity of a punishment spanking. For starters, I’ll be able to sit for dinner in an hour or so! This particular spanking saw me dressed in an outfit that Sir finds particularly fetching. It’s a green and pink plaid skirt–the kind a schoolgirl might wear, except the length would ban it from every school in the world—and a white blouse that ties just under my breasts. Underwear is strictly forbidden! It came with sheer stockings, but neither of us care for them, so I wear a pear of neon pink pumps instead.

By now the drill for Sunday comes without thinking, like breathing or blinking. After sleeping in late and having breakfast on the porch, enjoying the crisp fall wind, I excused myself to the bedroom and donned my costume. I also grabbed a wooden hairbrush that serves no other purpose that to bruise my bottom. I walked back into the living room to find Sir graciously doing the dishes.

Despite seeing me in clothes like this every Sunday for three years now, he stopped what he was doing and I swear his jaw about hit the floor. He looked like a horny high school boy seeing his crush in something slutty for the first time. I probably could have walked up, grabbed his crotch and gone straight to the ‘after care’ but that’s not how we do things.

I told Sir in the most bashful voice I could muster that I was ready to be spanked. That jarred something in his head, and he was back in Dominant mode. He grabbed me by the elbow and lead me back to my room. He took a seat on the edge of my bed and flung me over his knees like I didn’t weigh a thing. He flipped up my skirt–the little there is to flip–and yanked the brush away from me.

He started slow, working my sit spots with deliberate, medium swats until I was starting to squirm. Then he moved into the center of my cheeks and picked up the pace, smacking each cheek three times in quick succession. I started to reach my hand back, but he grabbed it and pinned it back without missing a beat. Once I started sobbing, he went all out, spanking me all over hard and fast with no regard for rhythm or placement of strokes. Just hard enough to make me really cry and then he gradually tapered off until he was back to slow swats at the base of my bottom.

When he was done, he let the brush drop to the floor and rubbed my reddened backside with a cool hand. He slipped his fingers between my legs and rubbed me, sliding in two fingers inside me and gently wiggled them back and forth. I moaned and rocked against him, begging for more. He told me no and pulled his hand away. He lifted me up and lead me to the corner where I was told to wait. He left and returned with my phone… And that’s where we are now.

This week has been crazy for me. On Monday I was just another girl with a kink; now I have a published short story that at least one person has already downloaded and read! It’s crazy to think that something I wrote hopefully got someone off. It’s a great feeling that I hope to experience even more as the weeks go on. I’ve started a new blog and already have comments and followers which was more than I could have imagined just a few days ago. Thank you to everyone who has read my blog and my short story. Keep an eye open as I have a second story that is just about ready to go. Should be published early next week. In the meantime though, I’m a horny girl with a sore bottom… And I know just how to fix that!


College Submission

When Sir and I first started dating, we frequented a little bar that served home made craft beer in giant frosted mugs for a dollar every Monday. Monday also happened to be Trivia Night, so we would plop down in a booth at the back, throw back some suds and compete in trivia for prizes. We never won anything, but it was a good time! Every Monday night there was a team of 5 people that showed up just to play Trivia: they didn’t drink nor order food. They just sat at a round table and answered questions. They won almost every single time.

What does this have to do with my story being officially published on Amazon? Not much, except that team played under the name Better Late than Pregnant, something Sir and I always found amusing. More so after a few beers! But that came to mind when I logged on to my Amazon account Friday evening to publish my story. I had heard a few horror stories from erotica authors saying their works sometimes took 3 or 4 days to be accepted and published. I knew I didn’t want that, especially after telling people my story would be live on Sunday. So I logged in, submitted my cover and story and played the waiting game.

Well, I just logged on and saw that my book was officially live in all Amazon territories (including the UK; thank you UK readers!). So rather than delay my announcement until tomorrow, I figured I would go ahead and put it up now. Better Late than Pregnant, sure. Better Early than getting a Spanking, most certainly!

You can read a sample of my erotic short story “College Submission: A Spanking Story” on Amazon right now. It is on sale for $2.99 and you can also read it for free through Kindle Unlimited. If you pick it up, please let me know what you think!


About Domestic Discipline

Sir and I have an interesting relationship. We are technically engaged with absolutely no desire to ever make it official. We live in the same home, spend all our time outside of work together yet we sleep in separate bedrooms. And he is my Dominant that sets the rules I live my life by.

To the someone looking in, the first two sentences might seem unusual… until you saw Sir take his belt off and turn my bottom a bright shade of red over the back of the sofa. And then the rest of our relationship would be an after thought. You might consider intervening, or the more passive route of calling the police. But a belt spanking is just part of everyday life for me. Not always a belt– sometimes a brush or a paddle or a tawse or a shoe or a– you get the point. Domestic discipline is a choice that Sir and I made at the very beginning of our relationship and I credit it with getting us through the hard times and making the good times that much better!

When I mention domestic discipline to my vanilla friends–which isn’t very often– they get uncomfortable. They imagine an abusive relationship where I spent my time cowering in fear and walking on eggshells so as not to upset Sir. Nothing could be further from the truth. We have a mutual understanding of each others needs and desires. For my part, I need structure and guidance: rules and chores and timelines and checklists and consequences. Sir needs to feel needed and wanted and in charge. We compliment each other perfectly. When I am in-line, I feel content and Sir is happy to have met my needs. When I step out of line however, that’s when he steps in and corrects the behavior. I need this as well, to remind me who is in charge, who keeps me safe and happy, how is always there for me and loves me enough to make me better.

But a DD relationship isn’t all punishment. A spanking doesn’t need to be in reaction to poor behavior. Sometimes I just feel like crawling over his lap, feeling his fingers on my backside as he slides my panties downs, and letting go as he spanks me rosy red. And he’s only too happy to oblige. Why would anyone volunteer for a spanking when they didn’t earn one?!

Because I like it. I like getting spanked. I like knowing that Sir is there for me and I am submissive to him. I like the soreness and the tenderness and the dull ache that follows a light spanking. I don’t always like the bruises and the trouble sitting that follows a punishment spanking, but I love the feeling of being loved and forgiven by someone that means the world to me. It’s certainly not a relationship style for everyone, but anyone who knows the joy of being in my shoes will tell you:

There’s nothing quite like it!

What was the point of all this? Maybe just to let you know a little about me. I write spanking fiction, but I also walk the walk and talk the talk. And sometimes walking and talking is all I can do because sitting is simply out of the question!