NAUGHTY AND NICE

This story was inspired by and is dedicated to Renee Rose and Anastasia Vitsky.  See Anastasia was chiding Renee and me on Facebook for a lack of Christmas spirit (in November, no less, which really isn't fair), and threatening to report us to Mrs. Claus, who it was implied would spank the Christmas spirit right into us.  It felt like the makings of a story to me, if I added a few twists, and a little payback.  Hope you enjoy it.  If you don't. I won't report you to Mrs. Claus, but I will report you to Ana, and she's scarier!

NAUGHTY AND NICE

 

 

     "I hate Christmas!" Elf Emma Snowsparkle muttered under her breath, after hitting her thumb with her hammer for the fourth time that morning.

     "I do too!" Elf Renee Mistlekiss whispered from her spot on the workbench next to Emma.

     Emma popped to her feet.  "Time for a gingerbread break."  She hurried off to the break room as fast as her curly-toed slippers would carry her, Renee right behind her.  True, they'd just had a break not a half an hour before, but they'd been making wooden rocking horses since January 3rd and they were sick of it and their thumbs hurt and all the other elves were so annoying with their hee-heeing and whistling while they worked.  Whistling Christmas carols.  In November!  It was just maddening.  And Elf Anastasia Peppermint-Twist was the worst.  She'd always been so nauseatingly nice, nice, nice, but since she got promoted to Head Elf?  It was like she pooped sprinkles.  Or thought she did.

     "You know what else I hate?" Emma asked, once she'd confirmed that the room was empty.  "I hate gingerbread.  Would it kill Mrs. Claus to buy some potato chips?"

     "Oooh, or gummy worms.  I was watching The Mindy Project under the covers last night and that's what Mindy eats," Renee added.  "I bet she hates Christmas too."

     "For sure.  She's way too cool for Christmas," Emma agreed. 

     "You know why else I hate Christmas?  Red and green.  Green and red," Renee complained.  "I want to wear purple.  Or orange."

     "Purple and orange stripes!" Emma cried.  "You know why else Christmas stinks?  Tinsel.  It's supposed to look like icicles on the tree, but it so doesn't.  And it rolls up into those weird balls.  And if you put it in your mouth, it makes your teeth hurt."

     "But why do you put it in your mouth?" Renee asked.

     "Doesn't matter," Emma snapped, as well as she could snap.  Little elf mouths weren't designed for it.  "I just hate it and I hate Christmas."

     "Me too!  I hate how so much stuff is peppermint flavored.  Peppermint is icky," Renee exclaimed.

     "It is!  And you know what else I hate about Christmas?  A Christmas Carol.  Which is the movie tonight--again.  There about a zillion versions of that movie, and I hate them all.  I especially hate Tiny Tim."

     Renee blinked.  "Really?"  She sounded a little shocked.  "Well, I hate Christmas lists.  All they are is just begging on paper."

     This was fun!  Emma was loving this.  She bet she and Renee could think of at least a hundred reasons why Christmas was hateable. More!  Because ten minutes later, they'd already come up with twenty each, and neither was showing signs of running out of ideas.

     Which might have been why neither noticed the smell of sugar cookies getting stronger, and stronger, and stronger.  They both jumped when a soft, sweet voice said, "What do we have here?"
     Emma squealed.  Renee squeaked.  They both jerked around toward the door.  Mrs. Claus stood their, hands on her ample hips.  She was almost always smiling.  She wasn't now.  "I think what we have here is two little elves who need to have their bottoms spanked for speaking such naughty nonsense."
     Renee slapped her hands over the back of her short skirt.  Emma backed up a few steps. 
     "Come along to the kitchen and I'll see to it," Mrs. Claus told them.
     "Huh-huh."  Renee's chin went up.  "You're not in charge of us."
     "She's right," Emma agreed.  "Santa's in charge of the elves, not you."
     "Hmmm.  I suppose you're right.  I was just trying to save my Santa the trouble of disciplining the two of you, since this is a very busy time of year."  Mrs. Claus looked from Emma to Renee.  "But I can certainly call him.  I'm sure he'll find time to work in a nice, long spanking for both of you."
     "No, no.  It's okay.  You can do it," Emma said in a rush.
     "We don't want to bother him," Renee agreed.  "Not so close to his big day."
     They both knew Santa spanked hard.  He had  big hands and they were rough from all the years handling the reindeer reins.  Besides, when Santa gave a spanking, he did it in front of all the elves.  He sat down in his big red throne of a chair and took the bad elf over his knee right there where everyone could see. 
     Neither Emma or Renee had been spanked by Mrs. Claus, but it had to be better than that.  She was a sweet old woman!
     Mrs. Claus gave a nod and left the room.  Renee grabbed Emma's hand as they followed.  "No matter what, she's not going to spank me into liking Christmas," she whispered.
     "Me either," Emma whispered back.  "Especially in November."
     "You can all take a break," Mrs. Claus told her kitchen crew when they entered the big, warm room with racks of Christmas cookies on almost every available surface.  See.  Mrs. Claus was a nice lady.  She wasn't going to spank them in front of anyone.  Emma figured she'd probably just give them a few swats each and send them on their way.
     Mrs. Claus pulled a chair away from the big table that held an array of mixing bowls, wooden spoons, and other cookie-baking paraphernalia.  She patted her knee.  "All right, my dears, who's first?"
     Emma nudged Renee.  Renee nudged Emma.  Emma nudged Renee harder.  Renee gave Emma a little shove.  Emma gave Renee a big shove, and it sent Renee sprawling over Mrs. Claus's lap.  Emma smiled in triumph.  Then she frowned.  She thought she'd heard a rustling in one of the cupboards.  But the castle didn't have mice, other than the cute ones who carried the ornaments to the really high spots on the Christmas trees.  Those mice didn't scuttle around in cupboards.
    A gasp of protest from Renee pulled Emma's attention back to her friend and Mrs. Claus in time to see Mrs. C. flipping Renee's short skirt up over her back.  Uh-oh.  A second later, her red-and-white striped panties were around her knees.  Double uh-oh.  Emma's theory about getting a few swats didn't seem like it was right.  Mrs. Claus looked like she was gearing up for a real spanking.
     Mrs. Claus placed one hand on Renee's back and one on her bare bottom.  "I love Christmas!" Renee cried.  "Love it.  Emma was saying how much she hated it, so I did too, just to be nice."
     "That's not true!" Emma shot back.  Renee was such a little skunk.  "She--"
     "Quiet!" Mrs. Claus ordered, her voice steely.  "I'll deal with you shortly, Miss Snowsparkle," she told Emma.  Then she turned her attention to Renee.  "I was sorry to hear how much you hate the color red.  Because that's the color I'm going to have to turn your bottom."
     With that, Mrs. Claus began to spank.  Emma squeezed her eyes shut almost immediately.  It wasn't fun to watch when she knew she'd be over Mrs. Claus's lap next.  She pressed her fingers into her ears, but she could still hear the crack of Mrs. Claus's palm against Renee's bottom.  She could still hear Renee's squeals and pleads.  But, faster than she thought, the spanking sounds stopped. 
     Emma cracked open an eye, and saw Mrs. Claus set Renee on her feet.  Oooh, the spanking might not have been that long, but Renee's hiney was almost as bright red as Rudolph's nose.  Emma got a good look at it because Mrs. Claus had bent Renee over the table and tucked her skirt under her belt so it wouldn't fall down.  "You stay right there and don't move," Mrs. Claus ordered Renee, and with a sniffle, Renee promised she would.
     Mrs. Claus sat back down and crooked her finger at Emma.  Emma's stomach rolled over.  She wanted to run, but she knew she'd only get caught, and then she probably really would get sent to Santa for punishment.  She put herself over Mrs. Claus's lap.  It was much softer than Santa's, and Mrs. Claus smelled really good.  Maybe this really wouldn't hurt too, too much. 
     Mrs. Claus gave clucks of disapproval as she made quick work of getting Emma's skirt up and her panties down.  She planted her hand--small, warm, and soft--on Emma's bottom and said, "I am so ashamed of you, saying you hate Christmas, the most magical time of the year, a holiday that brings joy to the world.  And you should be ashamed of yourself."
     "I still hate it," she muttered.  She wasn't going to be like Renee, saying anything just because she was over Mrs. Claus's knees.
     "You do, do you?  Well, let's see if I can change that."  Mrs. Claus's hand was little and soft, but maybe it had some Claus magic in it, because the spanks she gave with that soft, little hand stung like crazy, and in only about a minute, the sting had turned to a burn, and Emma was wiggling and squirming, trying to escape the next sharp strike. 
     "Please, please, please, I didn't mean it," Emma wailed.  "I love Christmas.  I do, I do!" 
     "That's not the way it sounded to me," Mrs. Claus answered.  She lowered her hand delivering a flurry of spanks to the tops of Emma's thighs, then quickly returning to spanking her bottom.
     Then it was over!  Whew!  And Mrs. Claus was bending Emma over the table next to Renee and tucking Emma's skirt in her belt so her naked behind was sticking out.  Sometimes Santa put an elf in the corner after a spanking.  Emma figured that this was Mrs. Claus's version of corner time. 
     At least that's what she thought until Mrs. Claus circled around the table and took a wooden spoon out of a bowl of cookie dough.  She tapped the spoon on the edge of the bowl so that most of the dough came off.  "I was glad to hear both of you say that you love Christmas," Mrs. Claus said.  Emma couldn't take her eyes off that spoon.  "You'll forgive me if I found it hard to believe you.  I think I'll need proof.  So each time I give you a spank with my spoon, you'll tell me something you love about the holiday."
     She walked back to Renee and Emma's side of the table.  Emma heard a whistling sound, then Renee gave a yelp.  "What do you love about Christmas, Miss Mistlekiss?" Mrs. Claus prompted.
     "Um, um--trees!" Renee burst out.  "Christmas trees!"
     Mrs. Claus gave a grunt of what might have been approval.  Emma heard her take a step, then another.  Then the batter-wet wooden spoon came down on her seared bottom, creating an oval of fresh, bright pain.  "And what do you love about Christmas, Miss Snowsparkle?"  Emma couldn't think of anything but that throbbing spot on her bottom.  Mrs. Claus gave her two more spanks with the spoon. It was dry now, the batter transferred to the elves' behinds. "I'm waiting," she said.
     "Cookies!" Emma gasped out.
     Mrs. Claus moved back to Renee.  Renee must have been thinking while Mrs. Claus had been using the spoon on Emma.  "Blitzen!" she cried as soon as the spoon cracked down.
     "Donner!" Emma got out after the spoon caught her on on the spot where her bottom curved into her thighs.
     "Not fair!" Renee yelled.  "I was going to use all the reindeer."
     Emma turned her head so she could see her friend.  Ex-friend.  "You don't own the reindeer."
     "They were my idea!"
     Mrs. Claus didn't give them a warning.  She didn't tell them to stop their fighting.  She just gave both Renee and Emma five spanks with the spoon, then said, "Now, we'll continue.  And neither of you may use the reindeer."
     Emma hopped from foot to foot, still bent over the table, trying to think.  "None of that!"  Mrs. Claus used her hand to give Emma swat across the center of her bottom.  "And none of that!" she added when she caught Renee trying to rub the burn out of her fanny.  Renee got another spank too, then Mrs. Claus got back to work with the spoon.
     The elves came up with snow angels, snowmen, snowball fights, and snow forts as their next reasons, both wanting to distract themselves with the thought of something icy cold.  They called out It's a Wonderful Life, the smell of pine needles, the candlelight church service, the sound of Santa's ho-ho-ho.  Sobbing, Renee managed to get out Tiny Tim after her tenth spank with the spoon.  Tenth not counting the ones for answering too slowly.  Bawling, Emma stammered out carolers. 
     "All right.  I'm convinced that you both truly do love Christmas," Mrs. Claus said.  She didn't give them permission to stand, so both elves stayed where they were, watching as Mrs. Claus crossed to the cabinets.  She opened one of the doors, and Anastasia Peppermint-Twist tumbled to the floor. 
     "I just had to see you get what you deserved," she told Renee and Emma, then pressed both hands over her mouth and giggled.  "I knew you were going to get your bottoms burned!"
     Mrs. Claus reached down and pinched one of Anastasia's pointed ears between her finger and thumb.  She marched the elf--who had stopped giggling--over to the table, bent her over and in two quick motions pulled up her skirt and took down her panties.
     "W-what are you doing?" Anastasia asked.
     "It should  be quite clear," Mrs. Claus said crisply.  "Preparing you to take your spanking."
     "My spanking?" Anastasia cried.  "But--  But I'm Head Elf.  I don't get spanked!  And I didn't do anything anyway.  I'm nice.  I'm always nice."
     "As Head Elf your job is to set an example for the others.  Do you actually believe you just set an example of nice behavior?  Because I would say giggling while your friends get disciplined is quite naughty."  Mrs. Claus turned back to the cupboard and retrieved a small ceramic pot.  She walked over behind Renee and Emma. 
     Emma got whiff of the sharp scent of peppermint, then she heard Renee whimper.  "This will make sure the welts from my spoon don't get infected," Mrs. Claus said.  A few seconds later, she began rubbing something cool into Emma's bottom.  Cool at first, although it quickly started to sting and burn.  And Emma's skin was had been stinging and burning to begin with. 
     Mrs. Claus used one hand to pat Renee's bottom and one to pat Emma's.  "All right girls, you're done.  Unless I ever hear you talking about how you hate Christmas again.  If I do, I'll borrow Santa's belt and give both you a true spanking."
     Emma and Renee both straightened up and pulled their little skirts down.  Mrs. Claus handed each of them a clean wooden spoon.  "I find that my arm is a bit tired," she told them.  "I want each of you to give Anastasia ten spanks with your spoon."
     "Ten each?" Anastasia protested.  "But that's twice as much as they got!"
     "That's the price of being Head Elf," Mrs. Claus said, without sympathy.  "When you've finished, all three of you go straight to bed without your supper."
     What could they do but obey?  As soon as Anastasia's bottom was crimson and throbbing, the elves went to their beds, where they all had to lie on their stomachs, Renee and Emma having relearned that they loved Christmas, and Anastasia having learned that it's very naughty to watch and giggle while other elves get spanked.  Even if the other elves deserved exactly what they got.

    













    
    

















 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 



 

 



AVERSION THERAPY

When I was a teenager, I actually had aversion therapy, though not the kind in my current spanking story.  It was through a company called Schick, and they gave their clients mild electric shock on the arm while he/she (okay, me!) ate a "bad" food.  (I have since really tried to move away from thinking of foods as bad, although the characters in my stories have not!)

It didn't work for me.

Aversion therapy doesn't work in my story either.  In my version, the heroine, Holly Nolan, gets spankings instead of shocks.  Her therapist, Dr. Scott Copeland, is so cute and caring, that somehow Holly starts enjoying getting spanked by him.  (Like that ever happens!)

Here's a scene where Scott and Holly run into each other at a party.  Not too long after this encounter, the doctor is forced to accept that he enjoys spanking Holly as much as she enjoys getting spanked.

“I didn’t know you knew Jason,” Holly said, before Scott could launch into a reassuring comment or two about how therapists and patients occasionally ran into each other outside the office and it wasn’t necessary to pretend they didn’t know each other. 

            “I don’t.  I came with a friend.”

            “Who wants to have vicarious sex through you,” Holly said, then flushed.  “Sorry.  I overheard you two talking.  I was sitting by the window, you were outside.  I didn’t know it was you when I did the overhearing though.  I knew the voice—your voice—was familiar, but it didn’t hit me why until just this second.  Or, you know, two seconds ago, when I said that vicarious thing.  Which you should ignorant—ignore, I mean, my mouth isn’t cooperating so well--what I said.  And I will ignore that I said it too.”

            She was just too adorable when she babbled, as he now knew for sure she always did when she was nervous.  Was she nervous now?  Or did she also babble when she’d been drinking?  It didn’t matter.  In either case, it was up to him to take control.  “I should have brought up the protocol for us running into each other outside the office,” he said.

            “There’s a protocol?”  She beamed.  “Hey, I said that perfect.  And protocol is a hard word on Heineken.”  A girl passed Holly a little too closely.  They knocked shoulders, and Holly almost stumbled into the table that held the chocolate fountain.  Scott lightly caught her by the arm to steady her.

            “It’s a simple protocol.”  He reluctantly released his arm.  “You don’t have to pretend not to see me.  And you don’t have to worry that I’ll reveal the nature of our connection.”

            Holly giggled.  “You mean you won’t go around telling people you regularly spank my bare bottom?”

            Scott looked around.  It didn’t seem like anyone had heard.  It probably wasn’t even possible.  He could only hear Holly because they were standing so close together.  Thinking that, he took a half a step away.

            “No, what I meant was I wouldn’t tell people that I’m your therapist,” he answered.  He sounded like he had a stick up his butt.  That was good though.  It was better to be more formal than less in a situation like this.

            “Well, not tonight,” Holly said. She took a half a step forward, closing the distance he’d put between them.  “Not at a party.  Like if I had some of that yummy chocolate, it’s not like you’d take me over your knee right here, is it?”

            Fuck.  Did she have to keep talking about it?  In another minute, he’d be getting hard.  Why had he had so many beers?  Alcohol equaled a lack of inhibition.  Which was fine at a party.  It’s not like he’d been expecting to see Holly tonight.

            Professional.  Be professional.  “If you ate one of your—“  It took him a moment to come up with the right words.  Another alcohol effect.  “Your trigger foods in front of me, and I didn’t follow up with an aversion action, I believe it would negatively affect our work,” he told her.

            Her brow furrowed.  “So wait.  That means…  What you mean is if I did eat the chocolate right now, you’d have to paddle me right now.  Right?”

            “In our relationship—“

            “Which we don’t have,” Holly interrupted.

            “What?”

            “A relationship.  We don’t have one.  I guess you don’t have one with anybody.  I got that eavesdropping.  Dropping. And neither do I right now,” Holly said.

            “In our therapeutic relationship,” Scott clarified.  “In that relationship, you need to know that I will punish you if you engage in the behaviors we are working together to stop.”

            “Hmmm.”  Holly slipped one finger into the chocolate fountain, then raised it, wet and dripping to her lips.

            “Don’t,” Scott ordered, trying to bring the necessary sternness to his voice.

            But she did.  She put her finger into her mouth, and sucked the chocolate off.  “Mmmm,” she murmured.  She started to dip her finger into the fountain again, but Scott grabbed her wrist.

             He glanced around the room.  They needed privacy.  Now. 

            “Let’s go outside.  We need to discuss this.”

            “But it’s cold.”  Holly pouted.  “I know.  Guest house.  Come on.”  She started through the crowd.  He followed still holding her wrist, although it was she leading him.

            A few minutes later they were standing in front of a guest house at the edge of the property.  He hadn’t even noticed it when he was outside with Markus.  It was hidden behind a stand of trees.  Holly tried to slide the key into the lock for the third time.  And missed, for the third time.

            “Let me.”  Scott took the key from her, but he missed the lock too.  Tried it again.  Missed it again.

            “I think Dr. Copeland’s a little drunky-poo,” Holly teased.

            Scott thought she was right, but he managed to unlock the door on the third try.  He swung it open, then made sure to lock it behind them as soon as they stepped inside.  Holly immediately wriggled out of her pants.  “I don’t think I really need to take these panties off.  It’s not like they cover anything.”  She snapped her thong.

            True.  It left both round globes of her ass completely on display.

            Take control, he ordered himself.  Now.  “You know that part of the aversion is the embarrassment involved.  For this reason, even if the spanking isn’t felt more intensely with the underwear down, it can be an important therapeutic element.”  That was kick-ass, he thought.  He’d rattled that off like he’d been drinking water all night.  

            “The thing is?”  Holly stripped off her thong and twirled it around one finger.  “I’m just not feeling embarrassed, Dr. Copeland.”

            This was a mistake.  The alcohol was blocking Holly from having the appropriate reaction.  He should have dealt with this at their next session and given her the spanking she deserved then.  But he really had felt that allowing her to eat a trigger food in his presence without punishment would be detrimental to her therapy.  Okay, so, he had to just get through this.

            There was a couch not far away.  He sat down.  “Come here, Holly,” he instructed, making his voice as chilly and clinical as he could, trying as hard as he could not to take in the pert little triangle of pubic hair she was showing off.

            “Nope.  I’m going to see what Jase has in the kitchen.  He always has the best stuff.”  She gave a twirl then skipped—yes, “skipped” was the only word for it, into the next room.  He followed her, anger at her disobedience rising up in him.  Sometimes patients needed to be encouraged to go through an aversion session, but he’d never had to deal without outright defiance.

 

 

AVERSION THERAPY is available at Amazon, Amazon UK, and Barnes & Noble

Liebster Award

Constance Masters nominated me for the Liebster Award!  Thanks so much, Constance!!


THE RULES:
 

When one receives the award, one posts 11 random facts about oneself and answers the 11 questions asked by the person who nominated you.

Pass the award onto 11 other blogs (while making sure one notifies the blogger that one nominated them!)

One writes up 11 NEW questions directed towards YOUR nominees.

One is not allowed to nominate the blog who nominated one’s own blog!

One pastes the award picture into ones blog. (You can google the image, there are plenty of them!)

 

11 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT EMMA K. GARDNER

 

1.  I was in a synchronized swimming show in high school.

2.  I won a costume contest for dressing as Carrie post-pig blood.

3.  I love pomegranate seeds.

4.  I let my dog wake me up at four a.m. so she can eat breakfast. 

5.  I am not proud of #4.

6.  I still don't feel completely grown up and an beginning to suspect I never will.

7.  I want to believe.

8.  I don't always brush my teeth before I go to bed.

9.  I had a horsey stage.

10. I cry at movies (no, not all of them)

11. I like the smell of gasoline.

12.  The first time I heard a dirty joke, I had to pretend I knew what it meant.

 

 

 

QUESTIONS FOR ME FROM CONSTANCE MASTERS

 

What was the subject of your first blog? 

 

Weight loss.  Big mistake.  As I didn't lose any!

What was your favourite subject in school?

 

English

Have you ever done anything in your life you’re truly ashamed of?

 

Yes.

 

What's your proudest moment in life so far?

 

Getting my first book published.

What did you type into the search box when you surfed the internet for the for the first time?

 

Wow.  I have no idea.  It's been too, too long.

What’s the worst thing you ever got in trouble for when you were at school?

 

I was nauseatingly good.  I once had a hysterical--truly bordering on hysteria--giggle fit that I couldn't stop.  I had to leave the room.

What’s your favourite holiday?

 

Christmas.

What is your favourite genre of book to read?

 

Dysfunctional family drama.  (It makes me feel like I'm not the only one!)

Favourite TV show?

 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

 

Favorite season of the year?

 

Spring. 

 

What was the last book you read and who wrote it?

 

Days of Blood and Starlight by Laini Taylor.  Awesome YA fantasy.  I loved it just as much as the first in the series.

 

QUESTIONS FOR MY NOMINEES:

 

1.  How long did you believe in Santa Claus?

2.  What do you sing in the shower?

3.  What do you love the most?

4.  What food makes you want to puke?

5.  Coke or Pepsi?

6.  Favorite movie?

7.  Favorite bad movie?

8.  Do you remember what anyone wrote in your high school musical?

9.  What book have you reread the most times?

10. If you could be a tree, what kind of tree would you be?

11. What superpower would you want?

My 11 nominees are: 

Claire Collinsgrove Cara Bristow Jade Cary Alice Dark Patty Devlin Celeste Jones Starla Kaye
Sue Lyndon Renee Rose Adaline Rayne Anatasia Vitsky

 

 

 

 

THE NEXT BIG THING

I was tagged for The Next Big Thing (Spanking Edition!) by Celeste Jones.  Big thanks, Celeste!  It was fun.
 

  What is the working title of your book?
  
   Aversion Therapy

  What genre does the book fall under?

Erotic spanking story. 

  Which actors would you choose to play your characters for the movie rendition?

I described Scott as looking like Daniel Craig--so Daniel Craig.

And for Holly, Rachel Weiss--so she can do all the hot scenes wit her husband.

  What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Holly falls in love with the therapist who is giving her aversion therapy (spankings) to help her over a bad habit.

  How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I

  I'm not done yet! 

 

6Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Self-published for Kindle and Nook.

  What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Well, Celeste compared her WIP to a story of hers, so I'm going to do that too.  (Thanks for the idea, Celeste.)  I think this story is in the vein of Asking for a Spanking.  Not all that realistic, a little funny, and a lot of spanking.

  Who or what inspired you to write this book?

 

      A photo I saw of a woman with a half-guilty, half-nervous expression hiding a candy bar behind her back.

  What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

When it seems that Holly's therapy has worked so well she doesn't need it any more, Holly starts upping her naughty behavior so she won't have to give up her weekly spankings.

Tag.

 

My tags are: Bent Alice, Starla Kaye, Sue Lyndon, Renee Rose, and Jade Cary.  If you were tagged and want to join in the fun, follow the directions below.

Give credit to the person/blog that tagged you

Post the rules for this hop

Answer these ten questions about your current WIP (Work In Progress) on your blog

Tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.

 

It's Love Our Lurkers Day, and I definitely wanted to give any lurkers out there a big thanks for reading and lots of love.

I have a lot of experience as a lurker.  It's just didn't feel comfortable to out myself as being interested in spanking, even posting under a screen name.

Then, I made a big leap.  I'm not quite sure what made me do it, but I decided to go to a Shadow Lane spanking event.  It was kind of a 0 to 60 move.  I felt vaguely uncomfortable the whole time I was there, although everyone--really, everyone--was very nice.  And although I didn't find it exactly fun most of the time, because I was nervous and I'm on the shy side and no matter what the event I find it hard talking to strangers, I found it liberating.  (In my novella Taken in Hand, the characters go to a spanking event, and I got to use--and this was years later--little pieces of what I'd experienced.)

Maybe a post would feel liberating, lurkers.  I'm friendly, and I know you'd get a warm welcome from anyone else who posts here. 

But feel free to continue to lurk.  Either way, I'm happy to have you here.

INSPIRATION

I get inspiration for my spanking erotica stories from a variety of places.  Recently I bought three photos from Dreamstime because I knew they'd inspire me to come up with stories to match. 

I thought this one was scary, in a good way.

I wanted this one, because I definitely want to write another Regency Spanking Story

And this one gave me a story idea almost right away.  I've already started writing.  Here's a taste:

AVERSION THERAPY

            “I’m so nervous,” Holly Nolan blurted out as soon as she stepped into Dr. Copeland’s office.  She couldn’t help it.  It’s like instead of butterflies in her stomach, she’d had those words, and they’d come flying out the minute she saw the doctor. 

            “That’s absolutely to be expected,” Dr. Copeland told her as he closed the door with a quiet click.  He sat down behind his desk and gestured her to one of the chairs in front of it.  “Do you have any questions about what we’ll be doing today?”

            “Will it hurt a lot?”  More word butterflies.  It was partly his fault they kept coming. It was those eyes of his.  When he looked at her, she felt like he wanted to hear everything she had to say.  He looked at her like he wasn’t thinking about anything but what he could do to help.  He looked at her like he cared, even though they’d only had one appointment before today.

            He picked up his paperweight, a geode cut in half to show its amethyst heart, and slowly turned it over in his hands as considered her question.  Holly found that her eyes kept flicking to those hands.  They were strong and capable, and it made her shiver to think of them on her body. “The way aversion therapy works is to set up a negative association with an unwanted behavior,” he explained.  Re-explained.  He’d gone over this last time, and she’d agreed to give the therapy a try.  “So, yes, it will be painful.  It wouldn’t be effective otherwise.  You may still be experiencing some discomfort for several hours after our session, and there is the possibility of minor bruising, although probably not after today’s appointment, because part of what I’ll be doing is trying to locate the level of pain required, and I’ll start at the lower end of the spectrum. Your skin will most certainly be red when you leave today though.”  Holly’s stomach curled into a little ball, crushing any butterflies that remained.  Now, she wasn’t sure be able to speak at all.  He set down the paperweight and leaned forward.  “You can still change your mind, and I can come up with some alternative therapies.”

            For a minute she was tempted.  Seriously tempted.  Talking about it at the last appointment had been different.  It had all been theoretically.  Logical.  Pain association with negative behavior.  But now it was about to happen.  A spanking.  From Dr. Copeland.  She cleared her throat.  It was desert-dry.  Or should that be dessert-dry? she wondered--feeling like she was teetering on the edge of hysteria--since she was about to be spanked for her inability to moderate the amount of sweets she consumed.

            The doctor poured a glass of water and handed it to her.  Her fingers trembled as she raised it to her lips, trembled enough to set miniature waves rolling across the surface of the water.  She took a long drink, then managed to say, “This is the therapy you think is the best, um, most effective, right?” Good, a very reasonable, non-teetering-on-the-edge-of-Cliff-Hysteria question.

            “Based on the history I took last time, I think it has the best chance of stopping your compulsive eating,” Dr. Copeland answered.

            To her surprise, tears stung Holly’s eyes.  “I feel like I’ve tried everything but this.  I’m so tired of trying and failing over and over.”

            “I know you are,” he said, then he waited, and Holly felt like he’d patiently wait for hours if that’s how long it took her to make her decision.

            “I trust you,” she told him.  And she did, even after knowing him such a short time. It was those damn eyes of his. And the degree in psychiatry from Yale.  But mostly the damn eyes. “Let’s try it.”

            “All right.” Dr. Copeland stood.  “Did you bring some of the foods you have the most trouble with?”

            In reply, Holly pulled a plastic bag out of her purse and upended it over his desk, showering M&Ms, Hershey’s kisses, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Rollos, Almond Joys, KitKats, and Twix bars down on it.  She looked into Dr. Copeland’s face, but didn’t see any judgements there.  He simply said, “Choose one you’d like to start with.”

            The silver wrapper of one of the Kisses caught her eye and she pointed at it. Dr. Copeland picked it up, then walked over to the leather sofa against the far wall.  He sat down.  “Come here, and put yourself across my knees,” he said, using the same tone he had when he’d explained how aversion therapy worked.

            “W-w-wh—“  Holly had to stop and start again.  “Why in that position?  Couldn’t I just bend over and brace my hands against the wall or maybe lean over your desk?”  The idea of lying over Dr. Copeland’s lap felt too…intimate.  Not that everything involved in the process wasn’t intimate, starting with simply telling him about her struggles with controlling her eating.  It didn’t help that he was maybe only ten years older than she was, late thirties, she figured.  And he reminded her a little of Daniel Craig, an actor she swooned over. 

            “I’ve found there’s a useful psychological element to the over-the-knee position,” he answered.  “There’s greater vulnerability and, also, greater embarrassment.  The embarrassment of being spanked as an adult is a factor that many of my patients find almost as much of a deterrent as the pain of the spanking.”  Every time he said the word spanking, she felt her face get redder and hotter.  “I think you’ll find that the longer you stand there and think about what is going to happen, the harder it will be,” he added. “You said you trust me, Holly.  And I promise you nothing I do will cause any permanent harm.  Come here, and let’s get started.”

            Holly began to tremble as she slowly walked toward him.  The hem of her skirt was trembling along with the motion of her body.  She hoped he didn’t notice.  Although he’d done this a lot of times.  She knew that because he’d given her statistics about his success rate with the his aversion therapy program.  He’d probably seen every reaction there was.  She peeked at him from under her lashes.  He sat there patiently, clearly ready to give her as much time as she needed.

            Faster than she wanted to, she reached him.  She stretched out across his thighs immediately, afraid if she hesitated she’d bolt and never come back.  And never get a grip on her out-of-control eating.  “Is this okay?  Am I where you want me?” she asked, looking down at the sofa cushion.

            Dr. Copeland put his hands on her waist and urged her a little farther over his lap.  His hands moved away, and she heard a soft crinkling sound.  “Open your mouth,” he told her.  She did, and she felt the chocolate kiss slide between her lips.  “Don’t bite into it,” he instructed.  “I want you to let it melt in your mouth as I spank you.”

            Her body gave a little jerk when he said the word “spank.”  God, she was nervous. 

            The doctor raised her skirt and folded it across her back. 

            “Wait!”  Holly jerked the skirt back down.  “Why did you do that?”

            “It is easier for me to calibrate the amount of discomfort if I don’t have to take the outer layer of clothing into consideration,” he explained.  “I can also feel the amount of heat through your underwear, which is useful.  There is a psychological effect as well.  Just as taking you across my knee increases the psychic aversion factor, so too my removing a layer of clothing raises the level of aversion you’ll connect to the chocolate.  Shall we continue?”  His voice was calm.

            You’re here because you need help.  This is help, she told herself.  Big-time brain science help from a big-time Yale psychiatrist.  “Yes.  I just wanted to understand the logic,” she answered, giving herself a few points for sounding like a capable adult who was making an reasoned choice about how to deal with an issue she was having trouble with.  She decided that she deserved bonus impersonating-a-capable-adult points for pulling it off while she was lying across the lap of Dr. Big Time about to get spanked.

            “Please ask me about any part of the process,” he told her.  Then he again slid her skirt up over her bottom.  The cool air on her panties made her shiver. Yeah, that was it.  Absolutely.  The cool air. “Tell me if the candy runs out before I finish,” he continued.  “The point is for your brain to connect the taste of the chocolate and the pain and embarrassment.”

            Holly nodded, squeezing her eyes shut, as if somehow it would hurt less with them closed.  Dr. Copeland rested one hand firmly on her back.  Seconds later, his other hand came down on her bottom, sharp and stinging.  The last time Holly had been spanked, she’d been a little girl, really little.  She’d rubbed Vaseline into the wall of her bedroom for some unknown reason—she had a vague memory of pretending she was making a TV commercial--and her mom had given her a couple pops on the butt.  She’d never had a spanking like this, over the knee for real punishment.

Clearly I don't worry about having a high level of realism in my stories!  Anyone remember the Schick anti-smoking aversion therapy from the 70s, where participants would get mild shocks while smoking?  As far as I know though, there wasn't a similar program that used spanking.