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What do all you spankees think about during a spanking? Do you think about anything? Do you think about the pain and wonder when it will be over? Are you so overwhelmed by the pain that you can't think about anything? Do you get lost in the pain? Are you thinking about anything else to escape the pain? Personally, I wonder when the spanking will end in the beginning. But as my spanking gets more intense, I just get lost in the continual pain and just float on the waves of pain. Eventually, I feel calm as my endorphins kick in. Please give me honest, candid answers! I'm curious whether others feel the same things that I do.

At first Lee and I were inseparable. Although we lived approximately 130 miles apart – me in Tunbridge Wells and Lee in Bristol – whenever we were together, we were joined at the hip! From a chance meeting in The Hoist (a uniform fetish bar in Londonl) in March 2012, we very soon fell head over heels in love with one another; we both shared the same sexual fetishes and, outside of the bedroom, we both shared a love of classical music and opera, visiting stately homes and landscaped gardens, walking in the countryside, travelling, and eating out in Italian and Oriental restaurants. Very soon after Lee ceased roleplaying as the naughty (adult) schoolboy and I quit being his strict no-nonsense housemaster who seemed to be perpetually putting Lee across my knee with his shorts down for a bare bottom spanking, we began chatting openly with one another about becoming hitched although there remained differences between us on how best this could be realised, with Lee being Buddhist and desirous of marriage – once same-sex marriage was put on a statutory footing – and me being Christian and sceptical of the Government’s motives for legislating to permit same-sex marriage, whilst being content with having a civil partnership (with a blessing from one of Lee’s Buddhist teachers and one of my United Reformed Church Ministers). Lee was also supportive of same-sex couples been allowed to adopt and/or foster kids word en whereas I still feel that, ideally, kids need to be raised by both a male and female role-model … preferably their biological parents, within the sanctity of marriage. As the months progressed Lee and I tentatively made plans for my move to Bristol, scheduled for some time last year. When Wayne (Lee’s gay lodger) moved out, Lee did not advertise for another but chose instead to leave his spare bedroom vacant for me to occupy on the nights I may eventually have chosen not to sleep with him (if I was still working unsocial hours) to avoid disturbing him, once my transfer had come through with work to accelerate my move to be with him. Alas, all was not to be. The day after we celebrated Lee’s forty-third birthday in October 2013, Lee unexpectedly told me my relationship with him was over leaving me feeling dumbstruck and bereft. To this day I do not know fully understand why but, I suspect, Lee had cold feet as I was his first gay lover whilst Lee was my fourth, but my first since breaking-up with Philippe (a local guy) approximately eight or nine years ago. The similarities between Lee and Philippe were uncanny: both are very close to their parents, both have younger sisters, both are Dr Who geeks, both enjoy classical music and opera, both are white-collar professionals, both are three years my junior; and yet my relationship ended with both of them on the threshold of the Government of the day legislating to make some form of union with them legal, (i.e., for civil partnerships between same-sex couples at the time of my break-up with Philippe and for same-sex marriage at the time of my break-up with Lee), leaving me wondering whether there was – or is – indeed a message from upon high, that I am predestined (if one will forgive me for invoking a Calvinistic note to all this) not to marry, if not necessarily not to be homosexual! Certainly, in the twenty months or so that Lee and I were an-item, I felt I had become as close to him as I had in the six or seven years I was an-item with Philippe, with whom I surprisingly found myself falling in love after reluctantly agreeing to end a relationship with a much-older guy from Northern Ireland called Jim M who specifically asked me to find someone nearer to me age-wise and geographically, so I would not be on my own were he to predecease me ... which he recently has, at the youthful age of 94! For both me and Lee, our relationship was very intense, perhaps too intense for each other’s good; and made all the more so by the sudden death of Lee’s former business partner Lynette (to whom he had also previously become engaged to be married when he was denying his own homosexuality a few years earlier) on 8th February 2013. And so today, almost three years on from when Lee and I first met, “the happy couple” or “the double act” (as we were quickly dubbed by our circle of friends from The Hoist and elsewhere) are sadly no more. We are no longer in-touch with each other and I am slowly closing an all-too-brief chapter in my life, apart from him: short but enjoyable though the time was when Lee and I were in love with one another, leaving me to ask myself and others one of life’s most vexed questions “is it better to have found love and lost it, or not to have loved at all?!” My reason for sharing these autobiographical details about myself is to invite YOU to ask yourself various questions, and perhaps initiate a discussion within your own church or circle of friends using the following questions as a basis for discussion:- 1). What are your views on same-sex relationships? 2). Do you support (or oppose) civil partnerships or marriage for same-sex couples? Would you support (or oppose) same-sex marriage in your own church? 3). Further to that, do you support (or oppose) same-sex couples adopting or fostering kids, or even same-sex couples having a banned word of their own (with assistance from a third parent of the opposite sex outside the bonds of a civil partnership/marriage to either or both partners in the same-sex relationship)? Would you approve of (or oppose) the baptism of a banned word adopted or fostered by a same-sex couple – or a banned word born of a three parent relationship rather than two – in your own church? 4). What are your views on relationships (heterosexual/homosexual/transgendered) between couples with different spiritual and/or philosophical beliefs to each other? (Lee always regarded Buddhism as a philosophy and way of life rather than a religion such as Christianity of and in which I, as a follower, have firmly-held beliefs and faith in a living creator god). 5). What advice would you give to a fellow Christian surviving the break-up of a relationship or death of a loved one? Would this differ, in any way, if his/her partner was the same (or opposite) sex to him/her, and/or had different spiritual/philosophical beliefs to their former/deceased partner? 6). Are homosexuality and/or transsexuality examples of “sexual deviancy” and “social non-conformity” (as my late father claimed they to be) or is our sexual orientation and/or gender identity (whatever it may be) no greater or no lesser part of our being than our other characteristics (e.g., the colour of our skin, and whether or not we have hair on our head), that make each of us unique but, hopefully, equally loved and special in the eyes of the Lord? 7). On Valentine’s Day when. as Christians, we celebrate the gift of love whilst many in the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered Community simultaneously feel unloved by the church (as a whole) on account of their sexuality what can, or should, we do – individually and collectively – to spread our love to those of different beliefs, gender identities and/or sexual orientations to our own? Feel free to e-mail your answers to me at clansmanchris2002@yahoo.co.uk. I promise not to take offence if you disagree with me on any one or more of the aforementioned points. With Christian love always CHRISTOPHER LUKE (aka Clansmanchris) NB Feel free to copy and paste this into a (two-page) WORD document and circulate to friends in, and members of, your church. It will be interesting to gage the reaction of various denominations and local churches to see who is truly Christ-like (in being inclusive and LGBT-friendly) and who is not! Within the United Reformed Church, it is being left up to local congregations to decide whether or not to host same-sex marriage ceremonies.

What was your film and/or television series; and why? My favourite film has to be "If ..." for the whole film, but particularly the awesome caning scene in the gym. My favourite television series has to be the BBC TV series "To Serve Them All My Days" which was a wonderful dramatisation of R F Delderfield's book of the same title. There was no corporal punishment in the series; there didn't have to be for it to rekindle happy memories of my old schooldays and impress upon the viewer's mind the ethos and love which prevails in an all-boys' boarding school. One can view both "If ..." and "To Serve Them All My Days" on YouTube if one access them on DVD. Enjoy!

The longest, most intense spanking I've ever had was in 1996 by the renown Daddy Howard. He contacted me early one Saturday and told me to come to his apartment. Once there, he had me strip naked except for my white socks. Then he put a leather collar on me. He put me face down on the bed and knelt alongside me so he could easily spank me. He tied my wrists together in front of me with a thick white rope. As usual, he started with a hand spanking to warm me up. After about five minutes, he spanked with a thick brown belt which he called "Daddy's belt." Now it was starting to hurt. After about 10-15 minutes, my ass was burning. But Howard was just getting started. Next, he spanked me with a black leather strap. I was yelling and squirming around but he held me in place by putting his left hand on the small of my back. He spanked me with strap for about 15 minutes. Then he switched to a tawse which really stung. Again, he spanked me with the tawse for about 15 minutes. Next, he used a leather paddle with holes in it. It was one of his favorite implements and knew I could handle it very well. This time, he used the paddle for about 30 minutes. Tears were running down my face by the time he finished. Then he went back to the belt, the strap and tawse followed by the leather paddle. I was losing all sense of time. After that, he used a wooden paddle which hurt a lot. That was followed by a yardstick that had been cut in half so it was easier to use. I couldn't believe how much that stung. Finally, Howard used his canes which had been soaking in a pail of water. I hate canes because it feels like I've been burned. But Howard used about six canes of varying thicknesses. All of them truly hurt but the thin canes hurt the most, like they were cutting into my skin. (Later, I saw that the canes left reddish-purple welts on my ass. When he was done, he said he was hungry so we were going out for lunch. I got dressed and realized it was just after 12 noon. Howard had spanked me non-stop for four hours. We went to a nearby cafe and I found that even sitting on cushioned seats hurt my bottom. After lunch, we returned to his apartment and he told me to strip naked again. I didn't think I could take anymore, but I obeyed him. In minutes, I was back on the bed with my wrist tied. He started again with a hand spanking, but quickly moved on to the belt, strap and tawse. Then came the leather paddle which he applied full-force. I was crying again. The spanking continued for a very long time. Then he checked my butt and said I had enough. If he went on, he said, I would be bleeding a lot. He told me that I had already bled from the caning welts. So I got dressed. I saw that he had spanked me for another two hours. So I was spanked for SIX hours! My butt hurt and I saw the welts that had bled. I never had such a long, intense spanking. A week later, I was back for another spanking! LOL!

Today the UK government has passed a law that spanking porn(amongst others) are banned. The Guardian has said : "While the measures won't stop people from watching whatever genre of porn they desire, as video shot abroad can still be viewed, they do impose severe restrictions on content created in the UK, and appear to make no distinction between consensual and non-consensual practices between adults." I wonder what this means for sites like straight lads spanked, and wonder how far this law will actually go? Is it now illegal for me to own spanking porn? Is it now illegal for me to watch spanking videos?

Advertise punishment in advance, and produces by itself a number of sense to begin with both parties know that will happen, the time interval between the announcement and enforcement can vary greatly, minutes, hours, even days, regardless of this I think that feelings can become similar, especially as we approach the time of fulfillment, but also at the time of announcing and if the time between announcement and implementation is long, not hurts to avoid forgetting , remembering from time to time and all this certainly produces many butterflies in both the time to announce it, if occasionally remember what will happen or before the end moments are all stressful time and excitement is like indulging in a slow death (exciting), we know how it will end and make the game wandering around this, with its ups and downs, for minutes, hours or days.

There are already a few months I'm on the site and I have seen the spank is not as simple as it seems. It is so complex, full and defined as every person who belongs to the site. I've noticed that most of the tops (now called so, when all the lives have been Spankers) seem to have a predisposition to give spankings without reason, ie spanking for pleasure or fun of it. Likewise there are also many bottoms (formerly spankees) that seem to call and ask for the spanking. For me with respect and tolerance, but I'll give a point of view, I do not know if there will be more guys to share. As many will know I consider myself Switch, for me the best and most complicated position, so I can give my point of view from two angles or sides. As I like Spanker not punish for the sake of punishing a Spanker discipline, and discipline is this: Teach. What I mean there is always a motive or reason to discipline by the gods ... that of "the good guys also deserve spankings" or "you have to give maintenance spankings" ... forgive me but for me ... absurd and out of place Also, as spankee, provided they have been spanked me a reason or motive, if it was not so, I consider it unfair and that does not help me improve as a person, on the contrary, makes me rebellious. Out of disciplinary spanking ... even sexual pleasure, erotic, sexual ... even there we have a reason: domination and submission It's just my opinion, sorry if I did not express myself well, my language is not English. and sorry for all the extensive text Greetings Isma.

This is a bit of a follow-up to Journryman_mages' blog. There are a number of things which really p**s me off on sites such as this: here are just a few: I'm 86, only looking for spankees 18-21 Only ever address me as Sir/Master Whingers Topping from the bottom (you have to thrash me till I bleed / you have to f**k me for at least an hour in 15 different positions without going soft) I want to to meet, but you have to tell me exactly what is going to happen Here are my translations/thoughts on each point I'm really only here for a J Arthur You are just a piece of meat for my enjoyment JM has covered this in his blog see 2 above see 1 Anyone got any thoughts on this?

“If you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise;If you go down to the woods today, you'd better go in disguise.”I think that’s how the old song goes. In any event I don’t know if, on a rather damp autumnal afternoon like today, one would find the teddy bears having a picnic or stumble across a little cottage and either find Hansel and Gretel incarcerated there, Snow White hiding there from her wicked stepmother, or Goldilocks munching away on three bowls of porridge, but one’s thoughts go back to little over a month ago when, shortly before my break-up with Lee, we were walking through woodland in West Berkshire.What began as a gentle stroll in the picturesque Thames Valley followed by a rather scrumptious lunch in the pub frequented by the Duke and Duchess of Cambridgeshire whenever Kate returns to her parental home in the adjacent village of Bucklebury, soon became a nightmare as, shortly after lunch, we set off to return to my brother and sister-in-law’s home in Frilsham – via the woods rather than open fields – only to very quickly become lost and frustrated with ourselves and each other as we seemed to go round and round in circles getting nowhere fast, and rapidly losing time we did not have as we were going off to the theatre later in the day to watch a play as part of our celebration of Lee’s forty-third birthday the following day.Time and time again we followed what appeared to be well-established footpaths and bridleways which we hoped would take us back to a familiar lane, only to find they ended as abruptly as they began in the middle of nowhere leading Lee and I to sigh in despair, snap angrily at each other, and rue the day we agreed to take my brother’s dog for the walk with us. Not being familiar with either the dog or the local terrain we kept her on a leash at all times in case she ran off, but the damned mutt kept getting her lead caught beneath her feet and, at times, one felt it would have been quicker to have carried her than allowed her little paws to become permanently ensnared in her lead, which only lost us even more time as one kept stopping to disentangle the lead lest it fracture the bloody dog’s legs. Being more of a dog-lover than me, Lee’s patience with her proved more lasting than mine as I made it quite clear very quickly that, for me, one only kept dogs for two purposes, either to help one keep sheep or hunt the menace one calls a fox before it culls one's poultry and lambs.The more frustrated Lee and I became, the more we lost all sense of the beautiful countryside around us, and as the afternoon drew to a close and darkness started to fall, the colder and more anxious we became that we would ever see my brother’s home again. Even Lee’s resilient sense of humour started to wane as he no longer appreciated me slapping his bare legs and my making jokes about the goose-pimples on his thighs fast becoming larger than his balls, to console his frustration. Eventually we found a road and, by some miracle, ended up back at the pub where we had taken lunch four or five hours earlier, and in desperation ‘phoned my sister-in-law to ask her to pick us up so we could arrive home in time to quickly shower, change, and reluctantly make our way to the theatre. Under normal circumstances one would have found the play (a comedy about Sherlock Holmes) rather amusing but, that particular evening, it was overshadowed by me and Lee still being annoyed with one another for losing time earlier in the day, in what was arguably the greater comedy of the day namely our walk in the woods.

The Naughty Boy (For Blackneo, who inspired me to write this story) Generally, Dominic was a good teenage boy. He studied hard and got good grades and wasn’t any trouble at all. But every now and then, Dominic would run around with other boys who were not as good as him. Dominic was easily influenced by them. As his father, I warned him against hanging around with these boys. But he liked them, had lots of fun running around with them and so he ignored my warnings. One day, the boys got mischievous and stole two dozen eggs from a supermarket. Then they went out by the highway and starting throwing the raw eggs at passing cars. Some eggs missed their target, but most of them splattered on the sides or hoods of passing cars. Sometimes, the driver would pull over and the boys scattered into hiding places. The driver would see there was no real damage and drive away. Then, the boys would come out of hiding and throw more eggs until they were all gone. The boys ran off laughing, thinking they had gotten away with something. What they didn’t know is that there were spotted by a neighbor who called the local police. The police said they had gotten complaints and asked if the neighbor could identify any of the boys. The neighbor told them more than that – he recognized two of the boys. One of them was Dominic. When I came home from work, a patrol car pulled up and an officer told me that Dominic had been identified as having thrown eggs. Six drivers left complaints, saying the egg had corroded the paint and the cars would need to be repainted. I told the officer that I would pay for all the damage using my homeowner’s insurance and was told to expect claims. I was calm when the officer was there, but furious after he left. Dominic was nowhere around but I knew that I would punish him good and proper when he came home. Dominic strolled into the house about an hour later as if nothing was wrong. He went to the bathroom to take a shower before dinner. I waited patiently until I could tell the shower was no longer running. Then I went to his room. Dominic was going to be punished severely! I had to control my anger so I didn’t really hurt my boy. But I was determined to teach him a lesson that he would not forget for a long time. As soon as he came out of the shower, I called him to his room. He could tell from the tone of my voice that he was in trouble. He came in still wet but with a towel wrapped around his waist. I immediately confronted him and told him that he would be punished. He knew that meant a spanking and tried to talk his way out of it. He looked really scared. But I told him to throw off the towel and get ready for a very hard spanking. He begged for forgiveness, but I told him that it was too late for that. Seeing he was trapped, he removed the towel so he as completely naked before me. I sat on the bed and called him over. Once he was close enough, I yanked him over my lap. “Oh, no! Please no, Daddy!” he begged. I ignored his pleas and began spanking his bare bum with my hand. I didn’t start easy. I spanked him so hard that my own hand burned. “Oww! Please stop!” he cried as he tried to wiggle away. But I held him on place with my other arm and continued. “This is what you get for being naughty!” I told him sternly. “Oww! Oww! Please, no more!” he cried. “We’re just getting started,” I replied and spanked him even harder. I spanked Dominic until his bum turned reddish-purple and felt very warm to my touch. He was yelling and screaming at every blow. But I wasn’t finished yet. I took off my belt and wrapped it so I could spank him at close range. Then I started again. “You have been a very naughty boy and this is what happens to naughty boys!” I roared. Dominic was really squirming and screaming now, trying desperately to get away for the pain. But I was stronger than he was and held him in place. Finally, he gave up fighting me and just let me whup him. His bum turned a dark purplish color. A few minutes later, he started crying, then just sobbing. “I’m sorry, Daddy! I won’t ever do it again!” he murmured between yells. I hated to punish Dominic this severely because I loved my son. But I thought he really needed to be taught a lesson. I did not want him to grow up to be a hoodlum. By the time I was finished, his bum was covered with angry-looking welts. I stood up while he lay on the bed on his side, sobbing. I let him feel the pain of his punishment and hoped that it had the effect I wanted. Then I told him to stand up and face me. I put my hands on his shoulders. “Son, I’m sorry that I had to do that,” I told him. “But it was for your own good. Do you understand?” He wiped the tears from his face and softly said, “Yes, Daddy. I understand.” I hugged him and left his room. I didn’t hear a peep from him. I went to the kitchen and prepared dinner and we ate in silence. I noticed him wince when he sat at the dinner table. I knew he would feel the pain for a couple of days. Dominic stayed out of trouble for a very long time, so I knew that my spanking had sunk into my naughty boy.

I had a great time at the fair on Sept. 29. I hooked up with my favorite spanker and got publicly spanked for about 30 minutes. I was sore from another spanking two days earlier so this spanking really hurt. But my spanked wanted to put on a good show and insisted that I could take a long, hard spanking. I managed to take everything he meted out until he started using a long wooden paddle. That had me screaming in pain. He gave me about 10 swats and decided I had enough. See my photos for just a few shots from that session. I felt good once he was done and my endorphins were flowing, even though my butt was very sore. The pain was worth the pleasure!

I participated in a spanking workshop today. For two hours, I was the bottom as a Top taught about 30 people all about spanking. He used about 20 different implements on me, ranging from straps and tawses to wooden paddles to canes. He finished by giving me seven hard swats with a big, wooden paddle. I had to count off each stroke, then say, "Thank you, Sir! May I please have another?" He was going to give me only four swats, but got up to seven because I kept asking for more. I'm sore but I feel great! Sadly, no photos or videotaping was allowed.

Visiting a familiar – if not local or regular – hostelry in London in March last year, a fit-looking guy dressed in football (aka soccer) kit passed me as I stood chatting to an old friend at the bar. “Nice leggies” I told the footy-kit lad, as I lightly slapped his bare thighs, “I do like my boyz in shorts!” “Thank you” blushed the stranger as he followed another friend of mine to the other end of the room. And so it began. I couldn't take my eyes off this rather pretty young thing! To be so near to, and yet far from, such a magnificent pair of slappable legs was agonisingly painful for me. The footy-kit lad sensed as much and, during the course of the next hour, he made a point of passing me on three or four occasions, and looking back at me to see if I was still looking at him. Our eyes met on each occasion, before I allowed mine to look him up and down – and back up again – as my lips curved upwards, and I smiled approvingly at what I saw. Eventually, I plucked up courage to excuse myself from the friend I was chatting with to approach the boy. “Nice to meet you pretty boy” I said, “I've not seen you here before!” “It's my first time here” he told me nervously, “I've come with Huw.” “Huw from Cardiff” I asked. “Yes, that's right; do you know him” asked the boy. “Not as intimately as I would like to know you” I replied, sounding like a predatory old tart! “I'm Clansmanchris” I told him, introducing myself by my pseudonym on various websites and in various gay chatrooms; “you are ... ?!” “Roberts .... Sir”, he answered. “I'm pleased you've belatedly remembered your manners by calling me Sir”, I told him. “Shall we have a session?” “Okay” he answered. Time and space prevent me from amplifying what the boy and I did next. But, from that chance meeting at Boyz & Sirs (see www.boyzandsirs.co.uk for further information), I have since fallen head over heels in love with the boy, and he also with me! Following the death of his close friend/former business partner/neighbour earlier this year – which caused the boy to question where his own life was going, and rededicate himself to his Buddhist philosophy which forbids him from enjoying receiving pain – he is, sadly, no longer spanked (which means I have to afford him non-spanking punishments when I role-play as his Housemaster, and he role-plays as the errant fifth-former to me), but the fun we still enjoy in role is secondary to the happiness we share when we are in each other's company, now that we are lovers! You can read accounts of how I previously spanked him in my earlier stories “A Housemaster's Work Is Never Done (Parts One and Two)”, and their sequel “Love Is In The Air” on www.malespank.net under my pseudonym Clansmanchris. Six years or more since my break-up with my ex (Philippe) and without me consciously looking for anyone to take Philippe's place, quite by chance - or if, like me you are a Christian, one would say the grace of Almighty God - I found Roberts ... and we very soon became an-item after that! I'm still pinching myself today to see if I am dreaming or not, as I am even more obsessed about Roberts today than I was then ... and not just about his legs (awesome though they are in one of his many pairs of vintage nylon soccer shorts) but all of him! So much so that, now, after several dates and visits to each other's homes I have decided that, unless the Good Lord decrees otherwise, one day I will leave my hometown of Tunbridge Wells to live with him, and hopefully marry and live happily ever after with him, 140 miles away in Bristol.

Let me know if you'd like to become a member of my private blog. It has 100's of nude, uncensored photos of me. You need an invitation so send me a message with your email and I'll add you to the list.

I got a very long, intense public spanking at the fair. My spanker used a wide variety of implements, each one chosen to more painful than the one before. He finished with a frat paddle and a metal paddles with holes that make me scream. By the time he was done, my butt was hot and sore. Then he made me walk around the fair with my bare ass showing so everyone could see that I had been spanked. It was quite embarrassing.

I had a fabulous time at Leather Alley on Sunday. I started at 11a by being caned really hard. About 12 noon, I got my first spanking which was pretty intense. Then I ran into a couple of friends. One guy put the other in bondage with lots of chains. Then I paddled him as hard as I could with a short wooden paddle. When we were done, I took him to another spanker who spanked and paddled him even harder that I did. When that was done, he went to get paddled again while he leaned against a St. Andrew's cross. In the meantime, I was spanked for a second time. That really hurt because my butt was already tender. After 30 minutes, I showed off my butt to onlookers and encouraged some cute guys to try getting spanked. At 3p, I was spanked a third time by another guy who left bruises. Finally, at 4p, I was flogged really hard by a new friend. By 5p, my entire backside was hot and bruised and tingling. The wind picked up, so I called it a day, feeling a great endorphin rush. I can hardly wait for next year's Leather Alley. I'll be posting photos soon.

It is of my opinion that a spanking should be strictly discipline. I do understand that people do enjoy the more erotic side of it however I am very much into role play and it would take away from the 'scene' if there was an erotic element. I do believe though that the chastising of a boy or son should not entirely be restricted to just straight spanking. Here are just a few things i also enjoy about a spanking session, i hope you agree and share other humiliation / embarassment / punishment techniques you enjoy!! SCOLDING For me this is an extremely important part of any spanking. It should be made before, during and after a spanking. A father or dom should send a clear message to his boy that he is no longer in control and that he has been naughty for a particular reason. A father should remain in control when scolding his boy and should never shout. He should speak with authority and make his boy understand that he is wrong, and will do as he is told from then on in. RULE SETTING A particular favourite of mine is during a spanking a father setting down rules to his boy that he will be expected to abide by. For example 1. you are grounded for the next 2 weeks 2. your bed time is now 10pm every night. 3. you will do all your house chores before school/work etc. SHAVING It is a good way of a dad to tell his boy if he is going to act like a young boy he is going to be treated like one. It's extremely humiliating for any boy to be shaved front and back by his dad. DIAPER POSITION Being spanked is embarassing enough. Being spanked in the diaper position is pretty humiliating! CORNER TIME Corner time should always be utilized by a dad. It can be used before, during(if it's a particularly long session) and after. Nothing better than when a dad drags his son by the ear to the corner and makes him spread his legs. The duration should be dependent on how naughty the boy was. As a variant the dom could place a wooden stool for the boy to sit on in the corner as well. As an additional extra the dom might wish to add something like a coin that the boy must hold with his nose against the wall, hands on head and legs spread. WRITING LINES / APOLOGY LETTERS Writing lines or apology letters reinforces to the boy that he has been naughty and will ensure he regrets whatever he has done. MOUTH SOAPING Swearing during a spanking? Not whilst daddys around you don't!! Drag the boy to the bathroom and soap his mouth out good and hard whilst spanking him or make him kneel infront of you and rinse him out. BATH TIME Having a dad wash me before or after a spanking(before being sent to bed) is extremely embarassing. BEING PUT TO BED EARLY Tucked in like the naughty young boy and told to be good whilst dad ruffles your hair. Need i say more? GINGER Never tried this before but I have heard a lot of people say this is a great way to discipline a boy as it stings like hell. ---- Don't know if i've missed anything. If you have anything else you would like to add please comment below. ps. sorry about grammar wrote this quite quickly! xxx

FL BULLY, who seems surprisingly shy about some things, wants me to ask about some of the features of the site such as:How is Match supposed to work?What does it means for someone to be Verified?What establishes someone's Rating?James, Athro: Can you provide explanations/descriptions for these. I think some other members might like to know as well.

For me, spanking ranks at the top of a fairly long list of off-the-beaten-track interests. I’ve been fascinated by spanking since pre-teen years. I grew up at a time when spanking kids was commonplace and accepted. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), I had “progressive” parents who didn’t believe in spanking—our discipline was apt to be the withholding of dessert or the denial of a bedtime story. But, we saw our friends get swatted as their parents pulled them into their homes for some misbehavior and occasionally, with open windows in summer, we could hear the unmistakable sound of a hand slapping a bare butt and the cries of protest as one of our friends got a serious spanking. The closest I came to experiencing a spanking for myself was at age fourteen, when some adolescent back talk pushed my father beyond his no-spanking limits. He dragged me across his knee and started to give me a spanking I richly deserved. If spanking had been the routine in my household, I probably would have accepted it as a consequence of my behavior, but fourteen is a little late for a father to establish his right to spank his son, so I struggled and he pretty much gave up—his heart wasn’t really in it. Now I wish that I had just yielded to his authority so that I could have a memory of a childhood spanking. Through the rest of high school, college and grad school, I had to settle for self-administered spankings. If I was alone at my parents’ house, I would spank myself with a ping pong paddle in the basement; I tried belts and wooden spoons and even cut switches in a family orchard. I loved the feeling of my palm turning my butt so red that it emanated heat. But something was missing. When you spank yourself, you can stop anytime; you can say to yourself that it hurts too much. It hardly qualifies as a real spanking if the one being spanked determines the duration. What I craved more than anything was being in the control of another man who would pull me over his knee or bend me over the arm of a couch and spank me until he decided I had been punished enough, and until he stopped, I would have no idea of how much more I would have to endure. I thought I might never have that experience, but after moving to Chicago and for the first time ever living by myself, I started to subscribe to some spanking magazines that had personal ads. There were lots that I wanted to answer, but many were for people far away and I was still reluctant to expose this side of myself. Finally, I saw one from someone in Illinois that ended with a phrase like “if you want a real spanking, I’m your man”. I wrote and rewrote a letter (this was in the age we had to rely on the postal service) explaining my need to graduate from fantasy to reality. Against all my better judgment, I dropped the letter in a mailbox and immediately had nightmares about being blackmailed. But a week later, I got a reply expressing interest and describing spanking scenarios that had my heart racing. He asked for some more information about me, especially what I looked like. He also said that he liked to take charge of a scene. I so wanted to get a real spanking that I responded by sending photos, one of my face, one in tight jeans and one in a yellow speedo where I was bent over a couch with my butt begging for punishment. The pictures didn’t turn him off, and we made arrangements for him to come to my apartment. When the day came, I was as nervous as I ever get. I couldn’t focus on anything else through the morning. At last the time arrived and I met him as he got off the elevator at my floor. He was about my height and nice looking. I got him a beer and we spent a few minutes getting to know each other, but it wasn’t long before he did take charge and ordered me to stand by his side as he sat on the couch. He took me by the arm and pulled me across his knees. I was wearing tight levis and for a moment he rested his hand on my butt. That sensation alone would have made the afternoon worth it for me, but then he lifted his arm and brought his hand down with a hard slap—I was finally getting what I had wanted and needed for so long. He picked up the pace so that slaps were coming quickly and I could feel the beginning of a glow in my butt. It was after about 10 minutes of steady spanking that he had me stand up again. I was afraid that he had already had enough or wasn’t getting what he needed from it, but instead he ordered me to drop my jeans. I unbuttoned them and as I slid them to my ankles he pulled me over his knees again. I had on a pair of tight white briefs and suddenly felt really vulnerable. My butt was warm from the spanking on my jeans, but denim provides a fair amount of protection. Not so for cotton briefs, and as his hand came down now, I realized things had escalated to a new level. Now there was real pain, and as I lay there, pinned tightly across his lap, I thought of all of the things that made me deserve a spanking like this. I started to lose track of the time, but came back when he slipped his hand under the elastic leg openings and yanked the briefs up, wedging them between my cheeks, exposing my bare butt. With no fabric for protection, the pain was even more intense. Part of me wanted to yell “Please Stop!”, but another side needed to see this through. Eventually my briefs joined my jeans at my ankles and the spanking continued. Finally, with one last powerful slap, he stopped and rested his hand on my well punished bare bottom. We stayed that way for a few minutes before he ordered me to get up and go look at myself in the mirror. My butt looked like the embers of a campfire—no spanking I had ever given myself had come close to producing a result like this. When I went back, we sat and talked for a bit. He drank another beer and allowed me to have one as well. I almost wished that I could pour it over my butt to cool it down. I assumed that the spanking was over, but soon found that he had other ideas. He told me to go put on the speedo from the picture I had sent. It took me a couple of minutes to find it in my bedroom. I pulled it on and went back to the living room. Next he told me to go to the bathroom and bring him something he had left there. It was a small wooden paddle. As I picked it up, I knew this was going to be a spanking I would not forget. I handed him the paddle and soon was back over his knee. I think I have pretty good pain tolerance, but my ass was still on fire from the earlier spanking, and compounding that with a hard paddling came close to pushing me to child-like tears. He must have sensed that it was time to quit, and finally put the paddle down. My first spanking was finally over. Over the years, I’ve had a few (not enough) additional spanking encounters. Some have been great, but none has reached the intensity of that first experience which is as vivid today as it was when I was pinned securely across his knee. Had there been the luxury of the internet when I was young, I might have found someone with whom I could have built a relationship around spanking and domestic discipline. Although that chance has long since passed, I still fantasize about a partner whose disapproving gaze at a dinner party or in a shopping mall signals the spanking I can expect when we get home.

Anyone remember this video from the old GuySpank site? Guess that's long gone now. Always looked like an interesting one.