October 31, 2010

Paid in full

I'm inviting you into D's and my bedroom; I imagine you hiding in the closet with our knowledge, our inner exhibitionistic natures complementing your secret voyeur within.

You cannot see us. We cannot see you. But this is for you, the readers of The Pink Report, as a result of LOL Day.

The first part is pure fun. D delivers nearly 300 firm, yet playful, spanks to my pantied and then bared bottom as I read each commenter's name.

Now things turn a little more serious while addressing the number of comments I left on the LOL Day post -- D introduces the strap. I love leather, but this thick, thuddy implement makes its bruising impact after only a few strokes, much less 32. It was for this reason that D restrained my hands and legs during this portion of the spanking.

As you're listening to this recording, please keep in mind that D and I always have a safeword in place in case things get to be too much. At no time did I want to end this strapping, even though my voice grows plaintive pretty early on. (I have a difficult time listening to this portion of the spanking simply because it sounds as if I'm not enjoying it -- I assure you, I was.)

Near the end of the clip, you will hear a 'swish' of the cane as D reappears in the bedroom. It was time to pay my debt for another infraction, off the record. But that's for another post entirely.

I am suddenly shy now.

Thank you, once again, for the tremendous response to LOL Day. When I began this blog, I had no idea how important you readers would become to me. In just seven months, The Pink Report has seen over 100,000 visitors, attained 121 followers, and has taken on a life of its own.

You, my readers, are what keeps this blog alive. Thank you.

All photos found at Doonstar, original sources unknown.

Discipline her: a blog worth note

If you haven't yet discovered the new blog, Discipline Her, Life as a college spankee, written by Tiffany Scarlet, you must check it out. Like now. Hurry.

Tiffany made a deeply moving video featuring the song "Cry, cry, cry" performed by Fiora Cutler, written and composed by Colin Farish.

I know that I should be glad
that even when I'm bad
you're there,
in your chair,
for me to say "sorry"
and you can forgive me.
I confess
as I undress
to cry upon your knee.
I'm gonna cry, cry, cry.

-Colin Farish, performed by Fiora Cutler

Beautiful song. Beautiful video from a promising new blogger. Go pop over and welcome Tiffany to the blogosphere!

Oh yeah, and that is her on the video. Cute and talented, no?

Instead of commenting here, why don't you go over there and show her some love?

October 29, 2010


Tomorrow I will receive my LOL spanking and we will provide you with audio of the event. I should have it uploaded on Sunday, so watch this space.

I'm nervous but I think this will be fun, too. I don't think anyone will be able to pick me out of a voice line-up, so anonymity should be preserved. (As long as D and I don't say each other's names, then we would have to start all over. No ideas, D.)

I just hope I don't do something embarrassing in front of everyone. Like snort. Or toot. Or cry like a baby. Not that I ever do any of those things (particularly the first two), but you know, I may crack under the pressure of immortalizing the moment. In essence I will be taking my pants down for all of you. I know this isn't difficult for the brave and the bold, but I tend to be a bit more inhibited in that regard.

And even if the audio doesn't turn out, I'll have received a pretty damn good spanking. How can one girl be so lucky?

Have a beautiful weekend, everyone!

October 28, 2010

Does this corner make my butt look red?

How is this exciting?

ZZZ....are you asleep yet? (Okay, so the last part might have woken you up.)

How any top can get anything out of this is beyond me. There we are, standing in the corner, fighting the fidgets, while you pour yourselves drinks and try to act interested.

Might I suggest some post-lecture dancing instead? No? What if we were in tap shoes? I think making us jiggle our freshly colored bottoms is much more of a deterrent than having us stare at a blank corner. Especially if your girl is like me and doesn't know the first thing about tap dancing. How humiliating!

I know what you'll say. "You're missing the point," you'll say. But I get the point. I just don't see how you can enjoy us standing in the corner. I'm really saying this out of concern for you.

I know, I know, we're supposed to be pondering the act of submission, feeling contrite and well-spanked, loved and disciplined and ready for forgiveness. It's not supposed to be fun -- your words occupying our head space as we wonder, is this all or will there be more spanking once I manage my escape?

If dancing isn't suitable (and it doesn't seem like it is), then how about some other form of artistic expression?

Or better yet, to drive the lesson home, why not try saying, "You go take a hot bath and think about what you've learned, young lady."

That'll show us.


Okay, okay...I'm going.

October 27, 2010

When you're not here

Imagining you behind me, I press my hips against the arm of the couch, lift my nightgown and drape myself over the cushions. You'd explore the offering first with your hands and then with your lips and tongue and teeth.

I am wearing your favorite panties -- the ones with the tiny, cream bows, a blanket of lacy gray cloaking my hills in a light fog, giving you a hint of the treasures that lie hidden. Your hot, assessing eyes would roam, determining where to start as we both savor this anticipatory moment.

When you are done with your appraisal, I would turn and run my hand down your firm stomach, licking you with my fingertips and devouring you with my eyes, as I slowly unbuckle your belt and release the button on your pants, tempting you to make your move. I am uncertain whether you would choose to remove your belt and press me back into position or if you would, instead, allow me to ease your pants down to receive a proper homecoming kiss.

I sigh, knowing that if you were here we would erase the days spent apart by writing our new history in the living room, over the kitchen table, scrawled across the countertops and painted on the floors.

October 26, 2010

Does it come with sound?

If you're anything like me, you storm the malls and boutiques on December 23, looking for the perfect gift for that special someone. Why wait? I've done some shopping for you.

Spankeuse Mécanique......$12.00

Discover the delicious tingle of a well-deserved spanking with this stress-busting toy. This professional duo have distilled years of experience to bring you red-handed action at various levels of intensity.

Mister Masturbation and Miss Masturbation...$12.00

Just off the runway and into your living room! Build your own fully masturbational Adam and Eve. Comes in vanilla and chocolate.

Each kit comes beautifully packaged and includes everything you need to build your very own paper power mechanical toy, available at World Upside Down.

Happy shopping!

October 25, 2010

If she only knew...

The other day my mom and I were discussing a horrible news article, about something I will not mention here, which prompted her to show me exactly where a spanking should take place.

"Here, on the fleshy part and on the undersides of the cheek. NEVER above the tailbone," She instructed, demonstrating first on herself and then, to my horror, on me.

"Ummm....yes, mother."

October 24, 2010

Because you say so

We both know that I will do it.

Last Friday, when you ordered me to fetch that wooden paddle from your bedroom, telling me to keep my skirt up and my panties where they were, rolled under my cheeks in such a way that made me want to reach back and hide my burning shame, in my mind I hesitated. But that hesitation didn't last long, because you said so and it must be done.

When you ordered me to the corner my resistance was gone, weathered away by the storm of your palm and paddle thundering against my cheeks, your words making me feel small and quiet but not insignificant. Never insignificant. I feel like the center of your world when you hold me. When you look at me, I know you are seeing all of the parts, flaws and all, and you cherish them. You even kiss the ugly parts of me.

And when you made me bend in front of you while you were seated, I knew you were seeing everything -- turning me into a house without walls, opening me in such a way that hiding was impossible -- and it scared me for a moment. But I did it because you said so.

This is unusual for me. I am the girl who needs to know why. I am the woman who makes up her own mind. But because you say so, I do not question you. I know that you will keep me safe, battling my own fears right alongside me, demanding that with you there is always truth. With you, in humility there is dignity.

I love it when you say so.

I need you to say so.

I am yours because I say so.

An apology

I'm sorry that you must spank me.

I know what an imposition this is. I know you hate it when I unbutton my pants and stand before you, my anxiety at the impending events weighing on your conscience so much that you later lose sleep -- recounting those moments when my eyes plead, "no, please"; your memory looping to the moment when I finally concede and push my pants down.

I hate to be the cause of a guilty conscience.

So let me appease some of your guilt.

When I pause, mid-reveal, and bite my lip, my real concern isn't that you are about to spank me. No, I understand at that point why you must.

My concern is, while you are feeling guilty and your gut is twisting with disappointment from my misbehavior, that you will notice how wet I am. You see, I know I should feel sorry for what I've done -- and I do! But that remorse battles with my desire for this to happen -- and my body wins every time.

And when I beg you to allow my panties to remain up, it's not that I truly detest you spanking my bare bottom, it is that I fear I might leave a tell-tale spot on your thigh during the administration of your discipline. How naughty would that be?

I am incorrigible.

Will it help if I look at you and then down at my feet and give you the most sincere apology that I can?

I'm sorry I enjoy what you do to me. I am sorry that my actions put us here, in this position -- you lecturing me and me honestly feeling guilty, but still aroused. Undoubtedly aroused.

Can you ever forgive me for that?

I know I'm not in any position to ask for a favor. But next time, before you start disciplining me, can you please see for yourself how naughty I really am? If you spanked me for that, I would know true forgiveness, Sir.

Three hundred and twenty-eight

"Love Our Lurkers" day was a massive success. It felt a bit like trick-or-treating, welcoming guests into my "home" (although none were ghosts or goblins) as well as knocking on neighbors' doors. I'm relieved, though, that I had other posts previously scheduled, as I was a bit burnt out on communication! (I have no idea how many blogs I visited or comments I left, but I think I got my communication in for the rest of the year.)

Three hundred and twenty-eight. That's the total of spanks that your comments have earned me from LOL Day. Thank you!

Those spankings will come to me as soon as D & I get together next weekend. And there will be audio, if not pictures, of the event. (Yikes.)

Thanks to this day organized by Bonnie, I also discovered some new(ish) and very hot blogs which I've added to my blogroll. Please take a few moments to check them out, and if you enjoy what you see, support them with your comments:

Big thank you to all who participated! It was lovely hearing from new and old. I owe you (and so does D).

October 23, 2010

Paper Tigers

I say, love will come to you.

Hoping just because I spoke the words
that they're true,
as if I've offered up a crystal ball
to look through:

where there's now one, there will be two.

-Indigo Girls "Love Will Come to You"

If there were words that could function as shields, I'd find them and shield her. If there were words that could act as medicine, I'd administer them and heal her. I'd champion and protect her, bolster and defend her, go into battle armed solely with poetry and praise.

If only there were words that could do all of that.

Because there aren't, my words are mere paper tigers, sent with a wish that they nestle on her desk among her scribblings and cover her in silken velvet to calm the predator of pain inside her. I wish her love. I wish her hope. I wish her the warmth of arms enveloping her until the morning light awakens her with a kiss to the lovely forehead which holds her brilliant mind.

In this world, this spanking world, I neglectfully avoid in-depth discussions of love and friendship, two things far more valuable than the flush of pink cheeks. Why do I do that? Perhaps because mere words do not do them justice; they do not convey all that I am thankful for. I am thankful for her.

And I wish, I wish...but I have stopped wishing, so it is more a statement of fact without knowledge of how or when.

Love will come. I am certain. It will come.

October 20, 2010

P.S. Lurkers, I love you!

Today is "Love our Lurkers Day" across the spanking blogosphere. Thanks go to Bonnie for creating this very special Holiday, a day to encourage readers to delurk and make comment.

If you love my blog, if you hate it, if you are stopping by for the first or the one-hundredth time today, this post is for you: the readers of The Pink Report.

Here's your chance. I'm putting my butt on the line for you. For every comment received on this post, either from a new commenter or a loyal one, D will administer 4 swats to my bared bottom, 2 to each cheek. You might not think that 4 swats is much, but then I would argue that you've never felt his massive hand or thick strap.

Four extra swats can make all the difference between tears and gyrations, sniffles and gasps.

But don't feel too sorry for me as I'm perched over his knee and reading each of your comments out loud before receiving the 4 smacks with the hand, strap, brush or cane -- I obviously enjoy this marvelous thing that we do (although take note that I didn't say "paddle").

Even if the comment count reaches 100 -- impossible! -- I can take it -- crying like a baby! -- and will loudly thank you or curse you in the very near future. For you I will martyr myself.

Here I am, removing my own belt, knowing that it will soon be used on my bared flesh (the indignity!). So delurk! Make comment -- anonymous posters always welcome!

Thank you in advance for the wondrous experience I will soon have at your hands. Forgive me if I save the proper thank yous for D.

P.P.S. Because I will be away for the majority of LOL day, this is posting early...my bottom may live to regret that extra opportunity for comments!

October girl

It's my favorite time of year. I am truly an Autumnal type: trouncing through leaves, canoeing on meandering rivers through the hues of purple and gold, hot cocoa and caramel apples.

It's the season for cozy blankets,

Halloween costumes limited only by your imagination,

knee high boots that have been stored in closets,

handknit scarves in vibrant colors, soft and cozy against your skin,

and cuddling with the one you love.

But beware of offers to draw you some hot water for a bath.

Make sure your bath comes with bubbles.

October 19, 2010

Girl in the tower: A first lesson

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

Prince Flynn commanded her from beneath the window, setting off an immediate physical response inside her bloomers.  With dampening thighs and an increasingly tingly belly, Rapunzel released her hair from its restrictive knot atop her head, shaking it out and over the ledge for the prince to gain access to her cell high in the stone tower.

Each tug and pull on the silken strands as he climbed awakened from deep within her a song to be strummed by his fingers alone -- a melody which lay dormant throughout her long and solitary days.  Her desire built as he ascended and by the time he appeared before her, she was certain he could hear the hum emanating from between her legs, calling to him, begging him to claim her once again.

His unmasked hunger for her indicated that, if not fully aware of her desires, his thoughts matched her own. Then his face clouded with concern as he remembered another matter that took first priority.

"Rapunzel, you did not sing today. I listened for your voice all day long and, yet, there was no solace," grasping her chin, his eyes searched her face for illness or some symptom that would account for her earlier silence. "I worried."

"My Prince, I did not feel like singing today. I chose to read in quiet and await your arrival. Shall I sing for you now that you are here?"

"My love, you know how much I look forward to hearing your voice echo through the meadows. Why could you not give me the benefit of your song today?" His tone, deep and husky, carried a note of chastisement, a delicious and foreign sound that made Rapunzel suddenly and inexplicably want to stick out her tongue in defiance.

"Flynn, you are out there," she said, gesturing to the vast space beyond her window, "while I am cooped up in here...all alone, with nothing to do but brush my hair, count the stones in these walls, and await you.  Surely, a capable and strong man such as you can entertain himself.  I will not be your entertainment. I did not feel like singing today, for you or for anyone."

With a stamp of her bare foot, Rapunzel spun from her lover and flung herself on the bed, her dress rising to display a daintily turned ankle and the swell of her calf.

"'Anyone'?" he asked. "Am I to presume that you are singing for others?"

"Oh yes.  There's the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, " she said with a laugh, noticing his thunderous countenance. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Flynn.  You know...," suddenly his hand grabbed her bare leg and twisted it so she was lying face down over her pillows. "Flynn! What are you doing?"

Photo found on Arianna's Looking Glass
"You are mine.  Say it!" Flynn exclaimed as his rough hand climbed up her thighs and parted them to explore the slick depths there. Rapunzel, unable to utter anything besides a shocked gasp, pushed against his intruding fingers. "Say it," Flynn whispered huskily against her ear.

"I am yours, Sir," she managed in a throaty whisper as he continued his assessment between her parted thighs.

"And you shall sing for me everyday.  Others may hear you, but I will know that you sing only for me," demanding now, he peppered his words with nips to her neck, descending between her shoulder blades as his hand moved to untie her bloomers and cup the round fullness of her buttocks.

Photo found on Dauntless Journey
"I shall sing, " she breathed.  "I shall sing when the mood strikes."

His hands stilled, the nibbling ceased.

"'When the mood strikes'?" He repeated. "You shall sing for me every day! I must know that you are well and that you think of me as I dream of you!"

"I shall sing because I want to, not because you demand it!" 

"We shall see, Rapunzel.  I will make you sing. I will make you sing, starting now!" And with that proclamation, Rapunzel found herself roughly and quickly tossed over her prince's powerful lap, her voluminous hair wrapped tightly around one hand as he lifted her skirt with the other.

"What? What are you doing, Flynn? How dare you?" she sputtered, her arousal replaced with indignance as Flynn commandeered her flailing body and pinned her legs with his own.

"You are mine. And it is time you understand the consequence in your denial of that!"

With a deft manipulation of her skirts, Flynn was suddenly staring at her bottom, partially obscured by bloomers, as the fire cast orange light upon its blank and glowing canvas. As she fought to right herself, Rapunzel's movements only heightened his desire of the jiggling, womanly proffering laid bare before him.

With deliberate purpose, the prince's large hand landed first on her right cheek and then on the left, causing Rapunzel to cry out in desperation as his plans became clear.  He was spanking her! Spanking her! How did this lovers' tryst take such a turn?

She kicked her legs; she made a fuss; she tried unsuccessfully to wriggle from his lap as smack after unrelenting smack fell on her poor cheeks.  But soon he felt the air change: she had gone still, and with slight moans she began to lift her bottom upward, straining for his touch, which he gladly continued with an open palmed determination against her reddening backside.

"You." Smack!

"Belong." Smack!

"To." Smack!

"Me!" Smack, smack!

"And you will sing for me every day! Every day! Say it!"

With a voice thick with desire and tears, Rapunzel spoke her oath, "I will sing for you everyday. If you promise...if you promise to do this every night.  It is only fair."

Shocked at both of their evident arousal that resulted from this spanking, he bent to kiss her, vowing to come to her every night and spank her, smoothing away her hiccups with his tender lips.

"Every night," he whispered, as he set about to quench their burgeoning desires.

Photo found on Dauntless Journey
Ever since I was young, the story of Rapunzel captivated me and formed a basis for many of my earliest sexual fantasies.  This series will explore many of those fantasies.

Housewarming to Michael and Season

Photo from Blossom and Thorn

With the upcoming "Love our Lurkers Day" on Thursday, October 21 (started by Bonnie of My Bottom Smarts), I have a confession.

There are several blogs where I lurk. One of those blogs that I silently follow is Devlin O'Neill's. The camaraderie evident in the comments is remarkable.

Smart, entertaining, and usually spot-on, Devlin's blog seems to function as much as a forum as it does a blog -- with contributing "hijackers" writing a fair number of posts, it offers many different perspectives on TTWD. If you haven't had the pleasure, I suggest you read it.

Two of the regular hijackers and proof that you can find love on the internet, Season and Michael, have started a new blog called Blossom and Thorn (it's fairly evident who is the Blossom and who is the Thorn). Judging from the already high number of comments, I predict it won't just be a success -- it'll be another forum-like setting where the like-minded can meet and brat and top and discuss ideas in depth. (I'll probably lurk there, too!)

Go say hello to Michael and Season, as they start their new lives together, both in the blogosphere and in love everlasting.

October 18, 2010


If I could, I'd wear thigh highs every day.

I'd put them on under my jeans just to know that they are there. I love the feel of them, the tops hugging my skin, the legs whispering against denim, reminding me that my most prized areas are comparatively uncovered, teasing myself with the knowledge that at any time I am ready for a spanking.

And if, during the course of my day, my jeans are taken down for me to be examined, he will be treated to an enticing vision: the woman, her lips wet with desire, hair tousled, jeans on the floor while she bends to display the expanse between silk stockings and panties, drawing his hand near to explore the thoughtfully arranged offering on the platter.

Presentation, after all, is of the utmost importance to any great hostess.

October 15, 2010

Letter from the school

D just received this letter from The Birchwood Academy.

Do you think I might be in trouble?

Mr. D,

We regret to inform you that Miss Pink has been suspended for 3 days from The Birchwood Academy for inappropriate and lewd behavior. You are aware that the academy has a strict dress code to ensure our ladies take the utmost care in representing this fine institution. Miss Pink has been repeatedly warned that her skirt is too short and that she needs to wear the regulatory undergarments to protect her modesty and the integrity of our school.

Today was her last warning, as she appeared in school wearing a skirt that barely covered her feminine bits, coupled with undergarments that were shocking and far from regulation standard.

In a move that can only be described as deliberate, she proceeded to drop one item after another in front of her offended maths professor who could hardly believe the sights she showed him when she bent to retrieve them. This is totally inexcusable.

It is with deep regret that we suspend her for these actions, but I am sure you can understand our stance on preserving the reputation of The Birchwood Academy. It is our hope that when she returns to school next Thursday, October 21, that she will be properly attired in a manner befitting the young ladies of our school.


Miss Presswood

I'm biting my nails. What, oh what, do you suppose D will do tonight when I arrive at his house for the weekend?

Surely not.

I suspect he'll just take me shopping.

October 14, 2010

Addicted to (Ass) Crack

Listen to the song as you read the alternative lyrics below this delectable photo.

Hit Play Button

Her pants are up, but you still know
the prize that lies below.
Your palms sweat, your loins ache,
another spank is what it takes.

You can’t sleep, you can’t eat.
There’s no doubt, you’re in deep.
Your throat is tight, you can’t breathe --
another spank is all you need.

Whoa, you like to think that you’re immune to this stuff, oh yeah.
It’s closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough,
you know you’re gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to crack.

You see the curves, you need a grope.
You want more than dreams and hope.
Your hand beats in double time --
another spank and you’ll be mine, a one-crack mind.

She can’t be saved --
a spanking is all you crave.
If she bends in front of you
you can't stop what you'll do.

Whoa, you like to think that you’re immune to this stuff, oh yeah.
It’s closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough,
you know you’re gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to crack.

Might as well face it, you’re addicted to crack.

Her pants are on, but you’re not fooled --
your girl, she must be schooled.
Your palms sweat, your teeth grind,
another spank and you’ll be mine.

Whoa, you like to think that you’re immune to this stuff, oh yeah.
It’s closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough,
you know you’re gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to crack.

Might as well face it, you’re addicted to crack.

Say it with me: "My name is ______, and I'm addicted to crack."

You're not alone. The enticing line that peeks out above panties is just too tempting to resist. But that's one addiction that shouldn't be curbed.

And while we're admitting vices, I don't think it's any secret that I like my crack with a little smack.

Music and original lyrics to "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer, who did NOT sing about being addicted to crack, but who very well might be.

October 13, 2010

Spanking of the week

"I'm pouting," I said over the phone last Friday.

"Why are you pouting?"

"Because it's my birthday and you're away on business. My computer is being held together with DUCT TAPE and I still don't feel well. And, and...I didn't make Chross' list this week."

"Ahh....," he said, "the real reason emerges. Do you expect a link every week?"

"No! I never expect a link. And it's not just that; it's my birthday! Things are supposed to go my way today and they're just...not." I punctuated my petulant tone with a stomp of my foot to accentuate my dismay.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry you're having a bad day but I don't know how I feel about some other guy making you so happy," he said, in reference to the "Spankings of the Week" posts each Friday.

"I think we just may need to put things in perspective for you," he said with extra emphasis on perspective.

"Really?" I said, my voice small and hopeful. "Perspective, how?"

"I think you need a whole other kind of 'spanking of the week', don't you?" God, his voice is sexy when he says that word.

Suddenly, my day just got a whole lot better. A girl, after all, needs a little perspective in her life.

"Yes, Sir. A spanking of the week is just what I need! That, and some more DUCT TAPE..."

Hmmm.....I wonder what D would say if he knew I'd silently thanked Chross for this soon-to-be-had pleasure. Perhaps some more perspective-lending would be in order...

Note to readers: Duct tape can only hold a computer together for so long. Mine is finally being fixed by a real professional and I will be offline for a few days. I pinky promise to respond to comments upon my return.