Tuesday, June 5, 2018

Random Math

The difference between the way She and He see it.

Mani-Pedi + Massage
+ New Shoes + New Dress + New Accessories + Pre-date Drinks with the Girls =
Budget for the next 3 months blown in 1 day

 / A flash of panties (the sheer humble panties he wanted you to wear)
The look on his face when you use your 'Get out of Jail Free' card = Priceless

Spending spree + Night out + Feeling hot + No lecture + No spanking = Home free.



Mani-Pedi + Massage + New Shoes + New Dress =
Budget blown for the next 2 months blown in 1 day ?

Bonus positive points:   
+ 1 for a flash of panties
+ 2 for the sheer humble panties she originally objected to wearing

/ The
look on her face
when she realizes that she is still getting a firm,
cheek reverberating, bottom stinging spanking
= Priceless

Night out + Your Girl looking extra hot +
Thorough spanking +
Followed up by a firm backdoor pounding =
Perfect night!


Friday, May 11, 2018

Random Thoughts: Teacher Appreciation

Did you know this is National Teacher Appreciation Week

Perhaps you were aware of it because of one of the following reasons:

A) You are in fact yourself a Teacher
(as I believe some of our fellow like-minded bloggers are or were?).

B) or Someone close to you is a Teacher
(this would be my case as I have quite a few friends who are teachers*).

C) or Live in a state where the Teachers were on strike recently and thus the timing of this week added to the coverage all over the news.

D) or You simply know to appreciate Teachers.

Or perhaps you were simply unaware, as some people seem to be (and unaware of the challenges of this often thankless job). 

So during this dedicated week, there were a lot of fluff articles being shared about the “Perfect Gift for your student’s Teacher” in order to show your appreciation. Or  articles about “What Do Teachers Really Want for Teacher Appreciation Day”. Do a quick internet search and you will be inundated with plenty of articles. Talk about genuine “Fake News”.

Well, I conducted my own fool-proof research and asked a select few,
What do You, as a Teacher, Really Want?

You may or may not find it surprising, but it turns out that the majority do not want another display item that has  “#1 Teacher” plastered across it, or another ceramic coffee mug, or yet another Apple shaped anything. Worse yet, if said gift has all these elements combined into one as demonstrated below:

So what my extensive research discovered is that, without a doubt, what teachers really want is to have some quality one-on-one time.

With the parents.

Yes, you heard me correctly.

One-on-one time in particular with the Moms of the particularly entitled students.
Some dedicated time to have a word or two with said Moms who never set any ground rules at home and thus let the disaster flow back into the classroom.

I am sharing one of my all-time favorite illustrations that does exactly that, illustrates what teachers really want:
To discipline at the butt of the problem.

This is obviously a no nonsense, stern punishment being administered if you note a few things in particular:
 - Her plump bottom, bared, with solid stripes across it
 - plus the broken ruler on the floor to prove the intensity of those stripes
 - Her singular lost shoe and exposed breasts to prove that she has been flailing wildly
 - Her exhausted look and of course her tear-filled eyes.
 - and let us not forget the open door, for added humiliation.

So if this is really what teachers want, I support them 100%. 

How about you?

So I say, give this teacher a raise,

and put that Mom in cornerttime
(with her panties at half-mast of course)
and call in the next one.

Would love to hear your thoughts.

(*and I know some in particular who are well deserving of our favorite topic themselves.)

Monday, May 7, 2018

Monday Morning Maintenace

Another Monday already.


mon•day noun
: The second day of the week, Monday, commonly observed as the first day of the work week by most Americans. Also considered a bad day by a good portion of those Americans.

main•te•nance noun
: The care and servicing, for the purpose of maintaining a young lady in satisfactory emotional condition, via a systematic inspection, detection, and correction of incipient failures either before they occur or before they develop into major defects.
 - author: Enzo Man


"Did I not make myself clear?
Now go clean yourself up and get changed. Lucky for you, I don't want to be late otherwise, I would've really lit your ass on fire."

"Yyy-ou ddid. Bbuh-ut..." she mumbled.

"But what?"

"Bbuh-ut wah? Whiii-e, why did you spank me?! I thought you...that you, you would like these..." she pouted out her explanation.

"These? THESE are NOT the ones I left out for you! Take these skimpy things off. Go put on the panties I clearly left out for."

"But I don't like those; those are so small; they don't fi..."

"That is part of the point. Today, all day, while they will be squeezing your ass tightly, keeping the spanking heat in; while you squirm in failed attempts to sit comfortably in the baking hot car seat with your extra warmed-up ass while driving all around town doing your sales calls, especially while sitting on the hard unforgiving wooden chairs at the coffee shop, and even while you are walking down the aisle at the grocery store tempted to rub some comfort on your bottom....all day, they will be doing their job."

"Bbuh-ut, I didn't do anything wrong this morning!" she daringly interrupted, biting her lip and kicking her bare feet in frustration.

"Your premise is wrong. This spanking, plus wearing the panties I left out for you, are preventative maintenance tools. A reminder for this entire week. A reminder to think twice. A reminder that if your ass is not enjoying sitting today, imagine what it will feel like next time you actually earn a spanking. 

So be a good girl and stop wasting my time.

Go get them on. Right now!

Before I go; I want to see you squeezing your tender, ripe ass into those snug, sheer white punishment panties!"



Who needs their Monday Morning Maintenance?

Monday, April 16, 2018

Random Thoughts: Superficial Women

I tell stories. To be more accurate I write and share stories here. I share stories with the purpose of entertaining you dear reader. I do not write sci-fi or fantastical stories (although I have written one or two with fantasy elements on occasions). In general, I write stories that can, have, and do take place in a world most of us inhabit; in a seemingly ordinary world full of exceptional circumstances that occur to everyday people. The characters I write about tend to have lives and backgrounds and emotions. Well a least hinted at if nothing more, is my aim…

“Enzo, what are you rambling on about?” you may be asking.

Well, I will get to the point.

On social media I came across this thread about female characters written by males. More precisely, male authors failing to write adequately about female characters and ultimately creating superficial female characters lacking depth.

You can read more about the thread in this article here:

I used to peruse a lot of stories on erotic forums. I say peruse because I could never get past a lot of the bad writing. Mind you I am not saying I am a good writer. What I am saying is that a lot of bad “writers” seem to congregate on these story forums.

I would more often than not click away the moment the main female character was introduced – described immediately by her bra size. I kid you not. If you are familiar with the stories I am referring to, I am sure this comes as no surprise.

So it is not so much that I am bad at judging women’s bra sizes [which, unfortunately, has often led to my demise when giving gifts] and therefore unable to form the correct visual, but that reading that description in the first sentence automatically gives me a pretty clear indication of the tone of the overall story to come. Because of these types of stories, I have always been mindful of how I write my stories.

When I came across this social media thread, I began to wonder; am I just as guilty? Do I describe the female characters in my stories just as poorly as those referenced?

"I don't know; Enzo always focuses on my eyes.
I mean where else would he be looking?"

Do I spend more attention and time describing the character’s physical attributes rather than the action taking place in the story? Are my female characters lacking any depth?

I like to believe they are not, but who am I to judge? Therefore, I ask you Dear Readers, in particular the Ladies, do my stories fail just as bad as the other writers being criticized?

Or does it even matter to you? Are my stories excused because of the overall erotic themes and the expectations of these types of themed stories?

Would love to hear your thoughts.

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Hump Day: Morning Stretch

Intended to publish this on Monday after Easter which would have made more sense with the time frame of the story, but unfortunately was unable to. Offline life doesn't want to wait. However, since this is Hump Day anyways, I thought you might find this story enjoyable. That is if you are still reading here.
Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you do.

She scrunched her toes into the cold sheets and released them slowly and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited.

He was taking longer than she expected, but she was not known for her patience.

She could hear his heavy steps on the deck just outside the bedroom. The open door was giving the morning breeze a free pass, adding to the chill of the cotton sheets. She listened to the pattern of his steps; they were not of a pacing manner, but rather of a watchful scout. Ever since she had known him, he would perform this morning ritual. She stretched and strained to hear an inaudible conversation with himself, aching to hear his thoughts. 

The bright morning sun streaking across the room did little to warm up the otherwise comfortable bed. Half-heartedly wanting his return, but dreading it just the same, she made the minutes pass squirming amongst the sheets wishing she had woken before him, made coffee for them and or possibly prepared breakfast. She drifted in and out of daydreams, scenes of unfulfilled wishes of what she should have, would have, could have done. Instead, without the gift of clairvoyance and further rendered restless by her impatient nature, left her to this familiar frustrating moment.

Yet, this was different. Of course circumstances and words are always different, but this time she felt…Correction, she knew it was different. 

Other times she had been slow to pick up on his subtle cues, to pick up on his warning gestures. This time his words, however short, had been clear, direct and firm. So much so that she had frozen and shuddered upon hearing him. Both out of knowledge that this was indeed the final warning and more so, out of a sense of shame that anyone else, if not all of them had read between the lines and understood his intentions.

The bedroom, along with the entire home, seemed strangely quiet, even quieter than a typical Sunday at dawn. This post-holiday Monday morning was tensely quiet in its own right. The still was to be expected as prior days festivities had burnt most out. The soft layer of tension was brought on by those chores and tasks which had been left undone, put aside for another day, all in preparation for the return to the week.

She lay in the palm of that tense quiet trying to settle herself while she stared at the silhouette behind the gently blowing curtain. She followed the contours of his bare arms, stretching and flexing into the morning as if signaling for guidance or requesting strength from some higher power; from God, the Great Spirit or Mother Nature, from anyone. She would soon find out if he had been acknowledged as he turned to look back towards the bed; for the first time since she opened her eyes, he focused on her direction. 

She couldn’t help but notice that even in similar states of undress they were a stark contrast. He dressed in nothing more than jeans, bare chested and bare footed, all seemed to only serve the purpose of accentuating his strength. She, on the other hand, wearing nothing more than a thin, white sheath nightgown, gave off the appearance of pure vulnerability. As is, the mini, eyelet gown normally would only have extended to mid-thigh leaving plenty of exposure all around. 

However, in her waiting distress, her tossing and turning caused fabric to knot and tangle and ultimately bind her. She yanked, kicked and tossed the sheets away in angst. With her covers now gone left her laying there stretched out, the hem of her nightgown riding well above her waist. The length of her legs were clear paths of soft flesh leading forward and further until culminating at her silky, bare bottom. A bottom covered with nothing more than goosebumps. A direct result of her stubborn ways; a secondary result of her day long attitude which had lead to an argument. She had been ordered to change her panties for bed. She had protested; I'd sooner go without. She now regretted the choice that left her modesty entirely exposed.

She heard him walk in towards their nest and felt him standing above her. Without a word from him, she heard her fears realized. His belt buckle unhooked, the leather of his belt began a rapid acceleration as it swooshed out and was released from behind the confines of denim belt-loops. 

She immediately abandoned the idea of a cheery, however disingenuous, greeting and instead closed her eyes tighter mumbling softly to herself. Instantly yet briefly she faded off into another daydream when she was jolted back by the unexpected crack of leather upon itself. 

She stole a quick glance at the instrument of her contrition while drifting out of the dreamy comfort of her own touch, her thin fingers sinking in and out her mouth. She whispered to herself once more, a small prayer for a short penance for their was no one to save her now from her own doing.

She scrunched her toes into the cold sheets and released them slowly and waited. And waited. 

And waited. 

"Get your tight, ungratefull ass up in the air.


She closed her eyes once more before retreating into the fetal position and scooting onto all fours just as she heard the swing of the leather cut through the air.


Hope you enjoyed that.

Added information: I wrote this story with a specific character in mind and then realized it could be the story for a couple of different characters of mine. If you intensely follow my blog (which I doubt there is anyone that does), you will be familiar with the Rebecca and Molly characters. If so I wonder which of these ladies you picture in this story above.

Friday, March 23, 2018


So here we, are almost at the end of March; at the end of Winter. Apparently we are now officially in Spring. Not that it feels like it around here or around most of the US of A for that matter. Blustery and cold in most places. I am a fan of the transitions between seasons, but not feeling that energy; at least not yet. It has been clearly absent. What I am feeling is an overall lingering heaviness weighing everything down…

But enough of that.

That is not why you come here, right?

Right! - Onward!

Since March is unofficially Ask Me Anything Month in this little corner of the blogosphere, I thought I would seize that opportunity vs. trying to post another story or some random thoughts. I will say that this year a lot more Bloggers are participating in the “Ask Me Anything/Question & Answers” posts which is great. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to spend much time reading the answers let alone asking any questions myself, but it is still great to see the enthusiastic participation.

So, have you been up late at night wondering about time and space, and how to escape a black hole? Because apparently you can. Ever wondered what it is like to swallow four raw eggs out of a pint glass for breakfast? Health benefit or salmonella risk? Ever questioned why the desert at night feels colder than a night in the woods on a mountaintop?

No? Never wondered about any of that?

Or rather have you simply been curious about the author of this inquisitive blog; curious about this man whose many underlying failed goals include attempting to understand the female species? Ever been intrigued as to the inspirations behind the stories? If so, here is your chance to ask. You might be surprised by the answers I do have and not so much by the ones I don't have.

I am open to answering most questions so go ahead and ask away. I will do my best to answer your inquiries and if there is more than one, I will answer them in one future summary post.

Just a fair warning, Ladies. Remember to always be polite or else.


The sun may be shining this weekend for the first time in a long time and you don't want to spend it in bed nursing a sore bottom...or do you?


Monday, March 12, 2018

Daylight Savings Time: Revisted

I searched the archives to bring you this little treat. I originally published this in my early blogging days. Not sure if any of you would remember it, but I am re-sharing it now, updated and edited in hopes of it brightening your day. Please let me know if it does just that.

Daylight Savings Time – you either love it, hate it or simply fail to understand it. Regardless of your overall opinion of it, if you live in North America and reside in the majority of the US states then you are required to observe it. 

The Monday following the "spring forward" government enforced routine is always an interesting day. The morning commute in particular stands out as something out of the routine with the subway commute crowd being easily categorized into three camps. 

The first being the yawners, a group missing their sleep so desperately they are yawning from Point A to Point B continuously. If this wasn't bad enough, the effect (an issue that scientists have yet to explain properly) is contagious yawing running rampant. You end up with a disconcerting scene; a train full of commuters seemingly impatiently waiting widemouthed for their dental exams. However, the silver lining of this is the occasional feminine sleepy-head whose widemouth creates a tempting visual. 

The second group is the grumps; deeply bitter about being up an hour earlier and choose to take it out on all those they encounter. Someone has taken something from them and they want it back. No amount of caffeine seems to tame their beasts within. Just steer clear. Granted there are always other remedies for the sleep-deprived bitchiness.

The final group is the pokeys. This group is habitually late as is, but now toss in Daylight Saving Time into the equation and they are then thrown into a full tailspin. The pokeys are usually characterized by young ladies who barely managed to get out the door and onto the train; but finish up their morning routines onboard. This routine which consists of switching from random, first pair seen shoes into office heels, to putting on miscellaneous accessories and concluding with the art of applying full makeup on a moving vehicle. (This traveling applying of makeup has always worried me…an unexpected bump or sudden stop on the train and these girls will poke their eyes out.) All primping done in a race against the clock, how much can be done before their train stop. This group is my personal favorite and exemplified by the young ladies in my office for with a bit of guidance I think they can learn. Or perhaps not.


Experience has taught me to prepare myself for the impending office disaster of late arrivals on the morning after Daylight Savings Time. Today I am well prepared. In fact, I have done extra sets of reps to get my arms nice and prepped. In fact, I also worked on my swing yesterday in preparation for this morning. 

Why you ask?

As my creative department of young ladies either drag themselves in a disheveled mess 30 minutes tardy or rush in 90 minutes late, they will all have one thing in common by the end of the day. 

What is that you ask?

Not the non-fat lattes half finished before coming into the office.
Not the mismatched shoes or half tucked-in blouses.

They will all have paid a visit to my office where they will have been served a well earned firm reminder to not dare be late tomorrow.

"He is not in a good mood. He bent me over my desk 
the minute I walked into the office.
Another reason I hate having a cubicle; 
anyone could have seen me! 

Now, I don't even want to pull up my pantyhose, or even sit down -
I'm afraid it will hurt too much."

"Sorry hon, but yeah, he spanked me too! 
Once for every minute I was late! 
30 minutes, 30 swats - it felt like forever!
My ass is throbbing.

Yeah, Jennifer is in there with him now. 
Poor thing I can hear her screaming from way out here!
I don't know why, but have you noticed he is always extra hard on her."

"Owww! Owww - it stings!
Yessss... I will set my alarm early! 
Stop....Owww...Ii...wwon't forget!
Owww.....please stop, it hurts so much!

"At least we are all in dress code!
Wait till Lesley comes in she always forgets to wear tights!"
"Oh yeah, so true!
That always gets him fuming.
Imagine being late AND not wearing tights...

Yeah, she is going to definetly get the worst of it.
Damm, her ass is going to throbbing from here 'til next Monday!"


"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes Lesley.
Hmm, actually I thought we only needed to 
discuss you being 90 minutes late.
However, in your lack of haste to get here on time today, 
you also somehow neglected to put on your PANTY–hose.

Fortunately, I have some managerial techniques to share with you
that will undoubtedly help with your overall absentmindedness."


So who was late this morning? Anyone? Really?

I do hope you enjoyed that ever so brief story and don't forget to vote or comment, it really only takes a second.