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.

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Random Thoughts at the Watercooler

Here we are mid-week. Another Wednesday already and therefore I felt the need to take a break and say hello at least. Get up off your chair, stretch your legs and walk on over here for a quick break at the water-cooler to discuss some random thoughts and observations.

I have been rather busy and unable to find the time to publish a couple more stories, but based on the last two posts, perhaps that is for the better. Those stories, The Gift parts I & II, seemed to have missed the mark anyways based on the response. I imagine some readers, who don’t share all my same exact "other interests", were possibly turned off by one of the pictures that alluded to our heroine in a compromising position and assumed something happens in the story that did not. Or perhaps it was simply they were not enjoyable stories; as I am still surprised by which of my stories seem to gather more attention over others which I would think would be the more popular choices.

Wednesday is a special day of the week I like to refer to as “Hump Day”, but I'm not offering anything that sexy today (we are at work after all). Instead, I offer you the opportunity to create some sophomoric thoughts and simplistic smiles thanks to the following tails. If you have been around here long enough, you are well aware that my love of windblown skirts is only topped by my love of spanking (And somewhere in there is 
my love of pin-up girls as well.)

Two things to keep in mind as you listen to these episodes. One, “Woe is she born on Wednesday" and two, Wednesday is really “Winds-Day” when referencing the disagreeable nature of weather as noted by the great philosopher Pooh.

Now, for your consideration, are the resulting episodes of either innocent intentions which were not thought out entirely or situations were innocents themselves were simply at the whim of nature.

So what do you think, are our girls here full of woe today?

I'd like to think they are at least full of embarrassed woe. Why? Partially, because it makes me smile just seeing these unstaged, truly accidental wind-related embarrassing situations.

The other reason - which you might be able to relate to better - is imagining the growing apprehension of each of these young ladies at realizing that they may be dragged home at any moment and given a thorough spanking for their careless actions.

Regardless of how sophomoric my reactions might be, I need the smiles.

Silly tourists who don't heed the weather reports.
Perhaps the locals don't believe the weather reports either.

It was Stephanie's idea to take the celebratory grand opening picture,
reminding everyone to dress up.
She wanted to make sure her entusiasm showed.
More than her enthusiasm was obvious.

Sure, Gina, I'll take a picture of you appearing to be carried away.
Why don't you jump to make it look more realistic?

I apperently can never say it enough, "Cristy, put the damm phone down!"
Maybe you should be worried about other things...

Friday, February 23, 2018

The Gift - Part II

Seems like things are relatively quite in the blogosphere. Or perhaps everyone is occupied with other serious national an international issues. Not that I have much to say in my own defense as I have not been able to visit fellow bloggers much in that past few weeks.

I am publishing Part II of The Gift... story today despite the cold recepetion to Part I (as of today there are no comments and only 2 votes on that post). Perhaps readers were too busy to read it or simply found it entirely uninteresting.

Regardless, I felt the need to publish Part II for the sake of completion. One thing to note is that this part does in fact contain our favorite topic.

If you need a catch up on the story, Part I is easily found here.

12:32 am


“I’m going straight to bed,” she declared throwing her heels on the living room floor with a bang and clatter.

“Sure! I’m game,” he proclaimed misunderstanding her intent.

“No… No, Hon! I meant - go to sleep. It has been a really long day and I’m aching all over.”

“But, I thought you were going to let me… you know?” he asked, disappointment clearly in his voice.

“I was going to, but I've had a lonnnng day. And besides I only said I would let you spank me if I actually did something bad, and I didn’t!”

He stood silent for a moment as he looked at her and couldn’t decide between feeling sorry for her embarrassing night or wanting to take her right there. Despite being visibly upset, she still looked amazing. Dressed in the sexiest dress he had ever seen her wear certainly helped. Sure he was always beautiful with her everyday outfits, but this - well who could resist. Not to mention that her retelling of her various misadventures prior to the performance had got him even more excited then he would ever admit to her; at least not tonight he thought.

“It would be one thing if I deserved it, but I didn’t do anything wrong tonight” she stated walking past him, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Unwillingly accepting her reasoning, he began
pacing the room searching for a distraction to his instant frustration and resorted to clicking on the television. He was about to sit down when he remembered his phone. Reaching into his pocket he powered it up, having turned it off at the start of the performance, then tossed it on the table before proceeding to loosen his tie and collapsing into the sofa; all while contemplating if all his efforts and expenses had been worth it.

Buzz. Ding.
Buzz. Ding.
Buzz. Ding.


His phone began shaking with a spitfire of incoming texts.

Who was texting him at this late hour? He picked up the phone and began scrolling through the official-looking text alerts.

An irked frown filled his face as he mouthed out “how much?!”  Yet, as quickly as the unpleasant expression had filled his face it was replaced by a slowly growing smile until finally transforming into a large full tooth grin.

12:37 am

“Come here, young lady!” he called out grabbing her by the arm and swinging her around.

“Wh…what are you doing?!”

Before she knew what was going on, she found her nose to the carpet and her heels to the sky as he flipped her over his knees.

“Guess you’re going to get taught a lesson tonight after all,” he chimed in a new found chipper tone.

“What are you talking about! Let me fucken go!” she kicked and screamed.

“Easy there. I’d watch my mouth if I were you. I do believe this spanking is going to be well deserved.”

“What! I told you not tonight. I’m not in the mood. Let. Me. Go! I’m not. In the mood” she balked.

He raised his hand high and brought it down with a solid smack.

“Owww, that hurt!” she buckled at the impact.

"That wasn't even the warm up" he told her as he began a quick round of solid slaps to which she responded with angered, wil thrashing.

“Why are you doing this?!” she managed to release a single coherent protest.

At that he stopped and took a deep breath while letting his hand wander slowly across her bottom, absorbing its firm yet delicate feel. Even with her bottom encased by the dress, he could feel her every curve and crease. “That is a good question, but I have a better question for you. Care to explain a 136.25 charge to my credit card?”

She went stiff as a board as a nervous energy filled her body. She knew she was in for it now and there was no way out.

“I…I…well…  It was all your fault!”

“Excuse me? My fault?” he laughed keeping his other hand tightly positioned on the small of her back.

“I….I…I bought them for you…as a gift for you,” she mumbled trying to remain calm, “since Ana says you like girls in g-strings.”

“Do I now? So now Ana knows what I like, more than you would know?
Regardless, you thought it was a smart idea to spend over 130 dollars on underwear?"

Rachel went silent unable to form a solid argument in her position and merely came up with, "But I thought you would like the fancy g-string?"

“Wait! Wait, you mean to tell me you spent that much just on panties!"

She said nothing, but the answer was clear.

"Well, might as well get a thorough look at what these expensive panties are all about, shall we?”

“Noooo!” she protested as he easily pushed the up the hem of her dress and revealed her practically bare bottom.

He admired the view for a moment before scolding, “I can’t believe I paid this much for this…this piece of string” as his cold, thick fingers fished out the fabric from deep between her lower cleavage only to release it with a snap.

I…I’ll….I’ll pay you back, Hon, just please stop; my butt hurts from the slip still…”

“Oh, you are going to pay me back. You are about to - for everything tonight. From your ongoing absent-mindedness, to the waste of money on this,” grabbing at the g-string once more, “And mostly for your….”

Before she could plead her case further, he brought his hand down with another singular echoing slap. And another. And another. With every spank, she kicked, grunted and swung herself without regard. His hand came down with force, over and over again. Her protests became a series of grunts and moans as the entirety of her plump soft cheeks were being punished by a torrent of slaps as he made sure to cover their entire surface.

He carried out her discipline with short scolding sentences sprinkled in; plus the occasional instruction to keep still and stop kicking. Her words of protests incomprehensible, her swallowing and gulping audible, all while choking back tears.

Her bottom was throbbing at this point from the combination of the night's various attacks
. She could feel the heat throughout her cheeks amplified by the growing mad desire to rub her inflamed skin. She peddle kicked in angst and grunted out protests that were being blatantly ignored.

She slowly surrendered. Closing her eyes tightly and wanting to disappear knowing that not only did the g-string provide nothing of defense against his impending assault; it also provided a more than symbolic target to his frustration while leaving the majority of her, for all intents and purposes, exposed.

As unexpectedly as he had started, he stopped; lifting her to her feet, “You’re done!”

She turned over her shoulder and stared at him between her disheveled hair cascading across her face.

“Dddon’t worrrry, I’ll re, return them; in the morning and, and get your damm money back!” she mumbled.

“Shh…just relax and go to bed” he whispered, his tone returning slowly to his normal tender mode.

“I…I will…I’ll go in…”

“Shhh... just relax,” he instructed as his hand reached out and slowly caressed her throbbing, aching bottom, “besides everyone knows you can’t return lingerie you tried on.”

Triggered, she pushed him away and kicked wildly. Her long legs unintentionally striking at his crotch.

“Owww! What the hell!” he shot back.

She buckled around in a full pout convulsion made of mixed emotion as she attempted to high kick him again. This time he managed to grab her ankle in midair and in turn set her off balance and tumbling backwards onto the bed. He leaned over her, flipped her over onto her stomach and delivered a stinging solitary smack to her already punished bottom, in hopes of containing any future attacks. It worked as she stopped fighting and just lay in the bed letting out a whiny plea.

His own frustrations of the day had now fully caught up with him. From the stress of getting all the details of the night right in order to make the night special for her, to seeing her dressed as provactively as she was, to her wasteful use of the credit card, to the pure energy of spanking her. Not to mention what seemed hard to admit - the excitement he felt at her embarrassing predicaments. And of course the throbbing urges in his pants. He was ready.

“Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson yet.” Learing down at her juicy blushing behind now nicely accentuated by the g-sting. “I’m going to fully punish that big, porcelain-white ass of yours!”

“Nooooo! Pleeasse…” she pleaded, but it was too late, her fate had been sealed.

He grabbed her hips tight and pulled her up on all fours. Reaching between her legs he yanked her panties down, pulling them down to her knees. He then grabbed her naked ass, one hand squeezing each cheek. To her audible dismay, he proceeded to spread her plump cheeks wide and exposed all of her secrets; her swollen femine lips and tight little hole now on full display. She leaned forward biting the sheets in fearfull anticipation.

He stretched his arm forward, pulled her face around to meet his and stared into her soft aching eyes before kissing her softly. With a quick tug and a pull, he undid his belt, unzipped his pants and with a frenzied shift of his legs released
 his manhood. He positioned himself and leaned in behind her, “I think I have the perfect ending for tonight.” *

8:56 pm

“Are you sure this seat is taken?”

“Yes, like I said before, my girlfriend will be here any minute,” he responded in a forced pleasant tone despite his growing agitation at both the persistent woman and his habitually late girlfriend.

“Okay, but I don’t think she’s showing up and my daughter would really love to sit in the front row. She’s a true fan of the ballet
, you know? She was asked to audition for the City Ballet, you know?”

“No, I didn’t know that and this isn’t the City Ballet. This is the local dance group performance. Neither of which your daughter seems to be performing in,” he snapped agitated by her persistence.

“Uh! You don’t have to be rude,” the woman huffed away covering her daughter’s ears.

“I wasn’t. I was merely stating facts, besides my girlfriend wouldn’t miss this.”

The lights blinked a warning ready to dim.

Feeling a sudden tinge of guilt, he offered, “I’ll tell you what; if she isn’t here when the second half starts you can have my seats. We’ll trade seats.”

“Fine. I’ll be over here with my disappointed daughter waiting.”

He shook his head and took his seat as the audience quieted down, the last of the standing attendees rushing to their own seats. At the final second, the double doors swung open at the far end of the auditorium. All eyes turned to see the tardy entrance.

This time, it was his turn for his eyes to grow in amazement as he saw his girlfriend in an almost unrecognizable state. He did a double take to make sure it was indeed his girlfriend and upon confirmation his smile, his chest and his pants all expanded. She looked stunning draped in the shortest dress and highest heels he had ever seen her wear. His eyes traced up her every feminine curve as he followed the outline of her tight black dress; from her long legs to her wide thighs up to her perky chest until he ended on her accentuated made up face all of which made his desire for her grow even more. Simply summized, she looked hot.

He stood up proudly and waved at her. She saw him instantly, which was hard to miss since he was the only one standing and waving.

“See, that’s my girl. I told you she’d show up,” he mouthed to the woman halfway back down the rows of seats. The woman shook her head in disappointment and merely hugged her little one.

Rachel noticed all eyes on her and in particular the glowing admiration from her boyfriend as she began her model impersonation strut down the main aisle. All eyes seemed to follow the long-legged beauty marching in. Midway down the aisle, she felt herself wobble. A combination of muddy soles with the subtle incline of the auditorium led to her feet sliding forward in the oversized heels. She pulled her foot back but overcompensated and the next thing she knew she was in motion.

Her legs slipped, her toes went flying forward as she extended her arms to catch herself. It was too late and thus began what appeared to be a round of solitary Twister.  A slow-motion minute later, Rachel landed with a resounding thud straight on her bottom, but she didn’t stop. Her bottom bounced up only to land once more with another solid slap before sliding down the aisle. Her long legs leaning ever back at the knees, her short dress rising ever higher. All until the industrial carpet resisted enough to bring her to a stop. A unified gasp filled the room as Rachel sat in the aisle twisted and exposed.

Rachel sat in the aisle; her bottom aching from the impact plus the added sting of the rug burn of the carpet. The skin tight dress and the floss of underwear having offered no protection whatsoever, nor much to help her modesty prevent her exposure. She attempted to push herself up. Her long legs forced to expand and bend in an unaccustomed manner resisted until at last she finally managed to stand up unsteadily; causing her to mimic a baby giraffe taking her first steps.

Finally achieving a semi-upright stance, she took a step and a half forward only to meet the ground once more, this time landing on all fours. She held the ground from keeping it from moving while remaining in a humiliating pose. Unbeknownst to her, the short dress hiked up above her waist as she was unintentionally flashing the audience practically naked from the waist down, but for the scrappy heels exposing her bubbly toes and a sliver of tight white rayon that was strugling to cover her crotch. Murmurs were growing and echoing throughout the auditorium and she wanted to cry; how could a good idea go so wrong.

Her boyfriend rushed to her aid and helped her quickly to her feet while she merely repeated in shock; “I’m okay, I’m okay”. He tugged her dress down, giving her back some modesty as he hurriedly escorted her down the aisle.

As they passed the woman envious of their seats, Rachel overheard her mutter “Serves you right for being late.”

“O.M.G, you bitch, I almost killed myself,” Rachel shouted out.

“Maybe if you weren’t dressed like a tramp, wearing that outfit and those heels to a family event, you would…”

“Hey!” Her boyfriend cut off the disgruntled mother, shooting her a threatening look while holding Rachel back from a physical confrontation. He then escorted her past all the glaring eyes.

When they ultimately got to the very front row, he extended his arm out, “Well here are our seats, surprise! What do you think?” He asked with hopeful anticipation.

Rachel’s eyes teared up upon looking at the seats. He mistook her watery eyes for tears of joy due to their proximity to the stage and nudged her forward. The true reason was something else entirely.

She stared in disbelief at the seemingly endless row of like furniture. Antique, solid wood cushion-less folding seats; stiff and tough as sentries on watch. A solitary tear escaped and rolled down her cheek as she rubbed her sore bottom just as the lights went out.


So were you able to follow that? And more importantly, did you enjoy that story?

Comments are always appreciated.

* PS - I left out one graphic erotic scene at the aterick above about what happens next.
Let me know if you would have prefferd the story with it left in.

Individual polls today – 3 specifically for the Ladies and 2 for the Gents.