Remote Corner-time

The night before I had made a disparaging comment about the corner time coming in the morning, something like, "Seriously, we don't need to do the corner time thing...It's just a waste of valuable time."
His reply was shocking but slightly intriguing, "That is the last time I'm allowing you to complain about your punishment. One more time, Bonnie-jo, and we won't leave your pants on during the corner time, and I'm sure you don't want that.
No, of course I didn't want that...

The next morning, I took a deep breath, braced myself, and clicked "Accept" to College Guy's yahoo video chat request. I feigned a smile....you have to smile on video chat or else you don't look pretty. But College Guy wasn't worried about looking pretty, at least not for long. We exchanged our how are you's, and then his smile fell.
"Tell me why you're being made to stand in the corner."
"Because I was bratty....and uhhhhhmmmmmmm....because I didn't take your punishment seriously and didn't try to control how bratty I was acting." I replied, grinning sheepishly,  staring at the corner of my computer screen, away from his eyes.
"Good girl." He pauses. "Now I want you to walk over and stand in the corner right behind you, so that I can see. You will not turn around at any time, you will not talk, you will stand there."

I flounced to the corner and stood, feet apart, bottom slightly stuck out, hands on top of my head with my elbows touching the wall. I wore his favorite jeans and t-shirt.

What does one do while in the corner? It surely  depends on the person and situation. My first corner time was remote, just like this one, and in that one I was so new to all of this, that I'm sure the whole 15 minutes was spent yammering silently--"I'm getting spanked, whoooo-peeee!!!" Since then, corners have meant many things: there have been welcoming corners, the kind that breath new resolve into my overwhelmed soul and bottom between ass-whippings from My Magician. There have been corners after spankings by College Guy  that squeeze down on my heart the moment I walk into them, bringing me back into my body, showing me that what just happened was real, that I really did do what I did, and he really did just punish me and show me he loved me, and in these corners I rest my head against the wall, catch my breath, and sob just a little. And then there are corners for the sake of corners. These ones aren't real at all, just an accessory to a spanking, a corner to make one's playground. In these corners you can distract yourself from your impending doom...play with your surroundings...test your top. He may be either pleased or displeased with your efforts at entertainment.

College Guy was displeased.

For one thing, he was distracting me. As I contemplated my misdeeds, I began to feel truly repentant. I began working on a single tear, and that tear was in it's mid-term creation, when I heard the sound. Chewwing sounds were coming from the computer behind me. Then a swallowing sound. Then more chewing. He was eating breakfast! The nerve! Chewing sounds have always been one of my biggest pet peeves. I used to tell my mom  as a pre-teen that I didn't want to eat with everyone else at dinner, because I hated hearing other people eating. But I took a deep breath, and I let it out. I could handle this.

The clock ticked above my head. Then I heard his tv switch on. I thought about my misdeeds, but my  misdeeds were getting kinda boring.
And my arms were getting tired. Was that an itch on my nose?.They say you shouldn't stand in one position for too long. Varicose veins, improper circulations, blood pressure problems, and increasing risks of heart disease and stroke may occur. Besides, how exact are web cams? So I moved, put pressure on the other foot, spread my legs wider. Changed my hands from the top of my head to the back of my head.

He didn't notice.

I moved again. Picked up a foot quickly and placed it slightly behind me. I sighed. Then drummed my fingers on the back of my head.

"Bonnie-jo.  Stop. Moving." His tone was one a barber trying to trim the hair of a squirmy 4 year old.

"Okay." I piped in cheerfully.

Wasn't he getting bored though? I was getting bored. Stop this, I told myself. What did you do to get corner time? I went over it all in my head. It took less than a minute to think about. I payed my due. I felt sorry. Now what?

Wasn't he getting bored though? "If you don't drop your attitude, your bottom will be hanging out during the corner time, and I know you don't want that." He had said at some point the day before. Did I not want that? Maybe he wanted that.....Although he could have used a nicer, kinder phrase than "hanging out".

I moved. Tiny imperceptible movements. Would he see this one? No. How about this one? Not yet.

"Bonnie-jo!"

"Yes?" I answered sweetly.

"Look, maybe some of it you can't help. But you keep moving. Do you know you're moving? "

"Yes."

"Then stop."

"Okay. I"m sorry. I"ll really stop this time." And I do want to. And I do feel slightly guilty.

He's being too nice, I think to myself. When will he finally order me to pull my pants down? At least this is helping the 30 minutes go by. I move again. I'm beginning to crack myself up for some reason. It's probably all this silence. Concentrate, concentrate! On what? On staying still. But what for? He can't see if I'm making tiny movements,and I find it hilarious.

Wham! Something falls in his room, or perhaps he's opened a drawer. All I know is the sound made me jump out of my skin. I begin to giggle at how the sound scared me; my giggle reaches up up up into a loud chuckle.

"Bonnie-jo, come here."

I turn around, surprised that the room hasn't changed in my long absence. His eyes spear mine across the wide expanse of cyber-space.
"Why did you laugh?"
"Because---Because you made some loud noise, or something in your room did. And it scared me so much that I jumped into the air...."
He shook his head. "This is not working. They are going to have to come down. I'm sorry."
"What are? " I pretend.
"Your jeans. Get back in the corner,and pull them down. You may leave your panties on."

I do so and stand contritely for a minute or two. But I decide that I hate this morning's choice of panties. I had not been planning on showing these ones off. What do do if you don't like your panties?? Hmmm...I move. Then I move again.

I stamp one foot. Then I stamp the other. I sigh loudly.

"Take them down." I hear.

"I'm standing still!!" I complain.

"Take them down. Now."

I do so happily. The way the sun is shining in the room makes a shadow of my bottom on the wall. If I lean slightly to the left, the bottom moves. I play with the shadow, but very slowly, very quietly, and very carefully. Because next he'll be having me grab Gepetto the bath brush, and I know that I most certainly do not want that.

Can't or Won't

First it is fear of failure, that she  can't make the grade, can't do what is expected. As consolation to her fear, she thinks of him. Of him dragging her over his lap, of harsh blows and words, of tears and cuddles and new resolve at the end. But thinking of this brings her back to her predicament, what if she does fail? She must be spanked so that she won't fail. Or is it that she must be spanked or she will fail? "I need a spanking so that I can be sane...." the thought becomes. "Oh no, " the sister thought replies, "You must not fail all on your own. You don't NEED anything. " She feels guilty beause she is now thinking of spanking and how it will make her life livable, how it will keep her on the straight and narrow.

But what if she fails him? What if she needs this too often, this bad-girl spanking that makes her a good girl again? What if she's too much to handle?

The fear becomes greater than any resolve. She's too afraid to try anymore. Or too lazy? She doesn't even know.

He's given her tasks and she refuses to do them. Is it that she can't or she won't? She doesn't even know. It doesn't feel like a test....more like a tunnel she's falling into. Inside that tunnel are all the fears, questions, and self-deprecation. She feels dirty, and she thinks of him, of him spanking her, pulling her hair, slapping her face.

She touches herself. She's still not getting the tasks done. Why must he be so far away? Why can't he spank her now? If he spanked her now would it fix things or would it make it worse? Is this addiction...is this heaven...is this hell...?

She doesn't know. But she just can't be a good girl. Can't or won't.

I don't want a spanking, I want you to leave me alone

"I have an idea, something I want to do," College Guy tells me weeks ago. "I want to test your limits."
"Okay." I say. We have brought this idea up on occasion. It is the stand-in for intense, punishment spankings when there has been no infraction. And, it's somehow more frightening to me than any punishment spanking.

"I want to test your limits with the cane."

"What? I'm really not sure if they are even made for that!!" I object.
"I'll be careful. I'll go slow. This is something I really want to do at some point. I want to know what it can do."
"I'm not sure if I like the idea...." I mutter.
"You don't have to especially like it." He replies.
"It might hurt a lot." I say.
" But it could be exciting. I will push you." He says it as though it's some kind of bribe, or gift-- some kind of benevolent gesture on his part. Half of my brain is trying to come up with a polite, warm response, because I am pleased he wants to do this, that he enjoys things that are more hardcore, that he doesn't mind seeing me in pain. The other half of my brain is telling me  run away fast. He doesn't know what he's talking about. This is the cane! Canes aren't met for testing limits. They can't be!!

This past weekend we both drove from our separate cities and met halfway for a day. It was perhaps a waste of money, but I needed to see him badly. And perhaps he needed to see me badly too. Christmas break had been over long ago. Circumstances in life had been wearing at both of us, and I was feeling confused, directionless, and depressed.  I needed a spanking. And more than that, I needed his arms around me, holding me. I needed to struggle--to brat and push--and for him to remain unmoving.

I was not disappointed. We made use of every hour of our short time. Towards the beginning of the night, my bottom sporting a perpetually pink blush because College Guy couldn't seem to leave it alone for long, he asked me if I wanted to let him test my limits with the cane. I was already in that state of mind where my brain turns to goo because of all the endorphins. It's not like we had only been engaging in spanking....:)

"Uhmm...I don't know... Yes, let's do it... Wait, no, I'm really not sure. I have no ide..... It might be really hard. And I don't feel like really hard.... What do you think? I heard people next door and it's already late and what if I make too much noise.... I'm really not in the mood."

My response was something like that. But then I felt he might be disappointed. And what else could we do? The cane was quiet. There were people next door and it was late-ish. "Okay, fine, lets try."

He put two pillows at the end of the bed. "Lean over these." I did so. He ran his hands down the backs of my thighs. "Keep your feet on the floor. And you remember our safeword, right?"

"Yes." I hate safewords. It's more of a competition if you have a safeword. "Can I say the safeword right now?" I falter, as I see him pick up the cane.

He raises an eyebrow. "Can I say the safeword at the beginning? " I giggle. " Safeword, safeword, safeword...Now will you stop?"

He chuckles. Then says, "No."

I brace myself over the pillows, and time slows. Suddenly, I turn to him, unable to withstand the pressure of trying to stay still, of waiting for that first strike.

I catch him in midair. If I had whipped out my camera and clicked, I would have the most amazing picture of a stern College Guy poised to strike some offending piece of flesh with an outrageously evil cane. "Wait! Stop!" I shriek. The cane had just started to move, the air had bristled with expectation. But he stops, lets his arm down, as though he were Abraham sparing Isaac.

"What?" He asks.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"You can do this. I know you can."

"Okay, okay." I close my eyes. Then open them. The cane is back in the air. I squirm. I suddenly roll of the pillows. "Wait, wait, wait!!" I whimper. He puts down the cane.

"Get back into position, Bonnie-jo. You'll be fine. You are fine. I know you can do this."

"Okay okay okay." I mutter and obey him. But as soon as I'm over the pillows, I"m rolling off again. We repeat this procedure numerous times.

He still has not used the cane. Not even once.

And then he puts the cane on the bed and invades my space, speaking softly but sternly into my ear as he pushes me over the pillows and slaps my bottom with his hand. SMACK "You will stay here, you will not move. I understand that this is hard, SMACK but there is only so much pushing you can do until I push back. SMACK Do you understand, Bonnie-jo?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll stay still. I will. I'm sure I will this time." I say. I grip the bedspread with both hands. Any second now, I tell myself. I squeeze my eyes shut. You can hear a cane coming.  But it always connects sooner than you expect.

WHHHHHISHHH!!!!! The blow is like nothing I've ever felt. It burns with an otherworldly pain, and the fear it strikes in my heart is worse than how much it hurts. I feel defeated, like some important part of me has been wrenched out of my body. I feel my spankoness is gone.

Instinct pushes me off the bed, and I sit on the floor protecting my stinging bottom and  blinking back the tears. I realize I'm whimpering and the defeated feeling increases. I must get up. I must get away. I need to not cry. What must College Guy think? I don't want him to feel bad...I don't want him to think I'm a wimp. Oh noo...I'm going to cry! I can't cry. Not like this.

"Bonnie-jo?" He moves towards me. "Are you okay?"

I climb up and onto the king-sized hotel bed, grab both pillows and throw them up to the headboard. I'm signalling that I'm done. I"ve destroyed the pillows he had set up.

I can see the OH-NO-YOU-DON'T look in his eye.

I grab the numerous other pillows littering the bed to my chest, as though they were some long lost teddy bears waiting to comfort me, and I curl into a ball of disappointment and fear. What has just happened to me? Am I really a spanko? Why am I suddenly terrified of that cane? How could I do this to him? Will he like me anymore? What if we have to stop dating?

He pulls the pillows out of my arms. "Get up." But I've already checked out. "Bonnie-jo! Stop this." He moves around the room, in a kind of hurried way, as though time is escaping him, as though he needs to find an answer and fast.

I watch him , and I hug my knees as he picks up an armless chair and moves it to a more spacious area. He sits. "Get off the bed. Walk around it, and come here."

I don't want to do it. But I obey, sniffling the whole way. "Noooooo....." I whine as he pulls me over his lap. "Please!!!"

"Stop it." He says sternly, and gives me several swats with our tiny wooden hairbrush. The swats hurt like nothing else. Folks, this is a tiny implement. I've never been scared of it. But I am now. And I struggle across his lap, I put back my hand, I kick my legs. I am out of control. And he has hardly even begun. My struggles distract him for a time, but he pins my arm with his arm, fits his leg over my kicking ones, and I am caught, whimpering and begging.

"You don't understand----!" I begin.

"I understand that you are scaring yourself to death. That you are building this up in your head. You wanted to do this and now you think you failed. You're disappointed, and I won't have you being disappointed in yourself. If you are going to beat yourself up over this, then I'm going to show you right now that you can take a spanking. I"m going to do ten sets of ten with this hairbrush. And you're going to be fine."

"I don't want a spanking!! I don't want ten sets of ten!!"  I cry. " I really don't want a spanking!" Then quieter. "I want you to just leave me alone...for a little while." And then even quieter. "Okay? Please?"

He pauses, " Do you promise to not think about this all night and to not tell yourself you failed?"

I'm silent. I failed, I think to myself. Where did my quasi-bionic butt go? Where did my spanko -self go? All I want to do is curl into a sobbing mess...what is wrong with me? But if I don't answer this right, he's going to spank me. I don't like spanking right now, not even with a friendly hair brush.

I stop fighting. I clear my throat and say in a professional tone, devoid of tears and whimpers and whining, "I will try my hardest not to. Is that good enough for you?"

He lets me up, and we collapse onto the bed. "You're fine," he tells me. But I'm not convinced. What just happened to me?

He is not done spanking me that night. But he is done spanking me hard. I don't want it. For once, I don't want it.

I know it was probably because I was tired and worn out from school, work, and life. It could even have been the piping hot shower/bath that he and I had indulged in beforehand. But for once, I truly felt sorry for those vanilla women out there whose SOs decide to introduce them in the joys of spanking. You poor dears.

Spanked by a Woman

I had been bratting to her all night long. Little things--mocking eyes, snarky comments, sly glances. No, I was not flirting with her; I don't swing that way, at least not seriously. I was purely relaxing. Many faces at this Spanking Party were foreign to me,  but I knew her from the party before. The feeling was one of friendship--that, and also a curiosity that wouldn't go away. What will she do about it? What will she do about me?

It was almost Midnight and time to leave our spanking-madness-getaway. Almost time to say our goodbyes, to wish everyone warm bottoms and hands, to step out into the frozen, dark night, and wonder if it was all just a dream.

Then she called me over. "Wouldn't you like a real spanking before you go, Bonnie-jo?" It was a wager, a challenge, an offering of a gift that I could not refuse. I was scared; she was perhaps the most intense top in the room, and she had been proving herself all night long. I looked over at her husband wondering if he was okay with her choice to spank me last.
 "It's either you or me, " he smiled.
"I'll let you go, " I offered sweetly.
"No, I'll get some from her tonight, and more, " he said.

So I arranged myself over her lap, hoping I wouldn't regret this.
 I think I did.
I've never been spanked so hard in front of people before. It was embarrassing. Roleplay offers a mask to those who can get into it. But I'm not good at roleplay yet. I'm usually always myself. So I played myself, and I cringed inside at all the real yelps, ow's, and ahh's I couldn't control.



The small crowd of mostly men chatted with her and one another as they witnessed my demise. It was an odd feeling, almost like I wasn't really there, just part of the entertainment--like a mediocre tv show, a fish tank with Siamese fighting fish, or an interesting appetizer.
I found myself wondering if their interest wained the harder she spanked, the harder I yelped. "Hmm..so the brat really is only human..interesting...so will the Steelers win the superbowl?" I thought they were probably thinking.

She was in complete control, I realized that fast.

It wasn't long until she placed her leg over both of mine, pining me to her lap and the couch.
"Do you trust me, little girl? " She asked sweetly.
I giggle. "Uhmmm...no not really."
She brings the paddle down hard. SMACK! SMACk! SMACKKKK!
I moan.
"Hmmm..now do you trust me?"
"Yes, Yes, I trust you!" I gasp.

 My protecting hand flew to my backside within half a minute, but she grabbed my wrist on beat.

"Oh yes, we often frequent that restaurant..." She was adding to the conversation in the group.  Then later, "Yes, but our eldest is just starting to..."
I tried to do what I often do in such a situation. It's a game that entertains me enough to sometimes get my mind off the spanking.

This is the difference between men and women. My dad once told me this in reference to teachers: "Guys are easier on girls, because they know how the guys think. It probably goes the same way with girls."

My arm went limp, so she loosened her hold. This is always my cue to yank my wrist out of their grasp, put my hand back on the floor the couch, etc, so that I can once again try to protect my bottom with it, just later. In a couple minutes I'll put it back, hoping to distract and slow the top.

No such luck. I pulled my wrist from her grasp, but, while continuing to spank me, she grabbed it and pulled it securely behind me. She wrapped her one arm around it and held it at the same time.  I was stuck.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK...the spanking continued. "Owwwww!!" I moaned at one point.
"Hah--hmmm" She  giggled.
I stopped my struggling for a bit.
"Seriously, did you just laugh? I know you're enjoying this but did you actually laugh while I'm writhing in pain here?" I ask accusingly.
"That's right," She said.

Lines

"I'm going to be dommy", College guy says Tuesday around Midnight. "Get the last of your homework done, and then finish your lines."
They were supposed to be due at Midnight, but we had spent too long chatting, and he feels partially to blame. So he gives me an extension. First he tells me,  "You don't have to do the lines tonight. Just go to bed."
But I am in my I-can-do-anything mood. "No, I'll do them all tonight. I will!"
"Alright, good," is his smiling response.
One hour later, and I am annoyed at myself. It is so late. The word "discipline" becomes hard to concentrate on spelling. Try writing "discipline" 700 times and it will take on new meaning, if not scar you for life.
Every 50 lines, I update College Guy through IM of my progress.
"Go to bed," I tell him. "I'll finish them, but it's going to take me awhile.
"Nah, I want to be here," he says.
Silly boy.
"Can I listen to music whilst I write?" I type. "I did it last time."
"That sounds alright."
"Really? I think it's cheating." I admit.
"Then no, you may not." He returns.
Why must I be so honest?
"600!" I type once I reached that mark. "Go to bed, okay?"
"Bonnie-jo," He types, "The next words out of your mouth had better be '700'."
I sit crosslegged. I lay on my stomach. I keep writing.
 After awhile, it is as though my hand is moving and my brain has stopped. I'm not thinking about the lines. It becomes a purely machanical process.
Finally, it is over, and it is around 2 in the morning. We call each other to say goodnight.
In the morning, I use sissors to cut the 7 pages out of my notebook. Wouldn't want someone to borrow my notes during class and see the things I've been up to!

Eye to Eye with College Guy

This post is extra-special, everyone. College Guy read my post, just as I wanted him to. I didn't especially like the results of his reading it, but it lead to him wanting to tell you all some of his thoughts about what happened. So he emailed me this post. I do apologize profusely for how long it is....you see what I have to deal with on a daily basis though....? The lectures are punishment alone...groan...Anyway, enjoy this note from my College Guy:

Hello everyone, for a while now I’ve wanted to give a bit of my side of Bonnie-jo’s and my life together. Her latest post and the ramifications of it have given me a perfect opportunity to do so. So without a do the following is my recollection and thoughts on how everything went down and whatever thoughts on spanking, life etc. that may lead to.


A little bit of background information is necessary to bring everyone up to pace on what was going on this past Sunday. That Saturday night Bonnie-jo and I had had a discussion that wasn’t quite an argument but that was important enough to bring out some emotions from both of us. Happily, like they often do, this discussion ended well and I gave Bonnie-jo a simple order for the next morning, “Don’t allow this to keep you occupied all morning, make sure you get some homework started instead.” So the next day I wake up and get on my computer. To my delight Bonnie-jo was already on and we were able to talk immediately. I asked if she had gotten any homework done and she kindly pointed me to her last blog post. I needed to talk to my grandparents first (that’s important later) but after that I was not so shocked to see that Bonnie-jo had not done her homework, in fact she had in a way declared war on my order by broadcasting her willful disobedience to all of you and myself.

So I got on the internet to talk to Bonnie-jo again. I could never say I was not adequately warned about the mood she was in; in fact I tend to love the way Bonnie-jo brats, which I think in a relationship like ours is just as important as loving your partner's smile, or laugh etc; however I’ve made it clear several times that if she brats about serious orders or discipline, she can expect more discipline. She knew this too. We had been planning on talking on the phone before I headed back to campus, but Bonnie-jo recommended talking online, knowing what the conversation would entail, and because she had roommates in the near vicinity.

I agreed and immediately started trying to find out how far Bonnie-jo wanted to go with her disobedience. I talked about what she had used her morning for, and overall she had been productive, which I was happy to hear. From my point of view, Bonnie-jo had not broken the spirit of the law, which was originally to just not focus on things too much, but had very willfully broken the letter of the law, to do homework. Keeping this in mind I decided to take away her warm up from her discipline spanking. I know that may seem overly harsh to some and too light to others, but I judged it about right for Bonnie-jo and myself. For one thing we only get to meet so often, and if I spanked her for each individual act we would never have any time to talk, and it’s a lighter penalty than adding the cane or big paddle to her punishment. However, to my chagrin Bonnie-jo responded with, and I quote, “Fine :P” and more bratting. Obviously Bonnie-jo needed more, something immediate. I decided on lines, rather a lot of them as well (500), but Bonnie-jo had not had enough, she bratted continuously until she had added 200 more to her list (They’re due tomorrow). I should point out that I warned her at each step of the process, I’m a meanie but I’m not that big of a meanie. Still Bonnie-jo didn’t seem quite there, she wasn’t contrite. This wasn’t so obvious, and it’s something I’m only able to catch on to thanks  to my gift of knowing Bonnie-jo for as long as I have. So as a final punishment I added the condition that she was to stand in the corner the next day under my supervision. It’s my understanding that Bonnie-jo is going to write her account on that part so I’ll leave that to her.

The bratting continued a bit from there, eventually resulting in Bonnie-jo questioning what would happen if she didn’t do anything that I had asked. This is a tricky spot for me to be in, and one I don’t like to address if it can be avoided. The truth is of course, and as I told her, that we would have to break up, as I have no means of forcing her to do what I say, and nor would I want to. I want to add here, that Bonnie-jo always always always has the ability to not agree to my conditions and rules especially if she has a reason. However if she just decided that I'm not worth listening to any more, obviously our relationship as a top/bottom would be over. I do wish I could have been there to give her the spanking she richly deserved by this point, but from where I was, if she decided she didn’t want to listen anymore, realistically there was nothing I could do. This brings me to the irony of our interest in control. No matter how dominate a relationship might be, the basis of that relationship is built on the acceptance of the bottom/sub. If a sub says, “Don’t do that”, a good dom will respect her wishes. This isn’t to say a good dom won’t push, I think that’s part of the feeling out process for our partners and ourselves, but the bottom line is, what the sub says goes. I personally enjoy this dynamic, as to me it is what allows the beauty of our relationship, the trust, to shine. What separates spanking and BDSM from abuse is consent, and power without trust is meaningless, at least to me.

Of course Bonnie-jo was merely taking her bratting to its most extreme limits, and the answer I gave her was not the answer she was looking for. I’m sure she would have liked to hear how I was about to trek across country and put her bare bottom across my knee for a session with Gepetto (she wouldn’t have wanted to hear the Gepetto part), however I’ve found that sometimes the only way to beat a brat at their game, is to not play their game. Of course bratting is not just a game, it is a fascinating dynamic to me; it is in a way a game of tug of war, yet it is also a method of letting out stress and of probing and getting to know your partner. Still sometimes you have to step away from it and bring everything back to reality.

On a final note I’d like to add that Bonnie-jo herself was a great help to me during that same conversation. My grandmother had hurt her back before my conversation with her, and she is experiencing quite a bit of pain. Something Bonnie-jo mentioned made me think of my grandmother, and once I explained that situation Bonnie-jo quit her bratting immediately for me, and indeed was somewhat frustrated that I hadn’t thought to say so in the first place. The dynamics of spanking and its transition and place through so many phases of life is another interesting topic but one for another time. It is sufficient to say that I’m extraordinarily happy that I’ve met someone who I can be there for and who can be there for me.

Sincerely,

College Guy