Without any notice, PayPal reserves the right to close any accounts that violate their acceptable use policy … In other words, the companies and sites that host our e-books – and have the right to confiscate any funds in their accounts. Let’s just say, they won’t process the readers’ credit cards if they wish to exercise their right to read whatever the hell they want. As authors, we have been asked by our various host companies (Smashwords.com, in my case) to remove our work immediately.

Here’s the interesting part. I have a new computer – Well, less than a year old. My old hard drive crashed, and I was only able to save part of it; NOT the part that contained my original manuscript for Burning Willow (there never was a hard, printed copy) … So, if you were fortunate enough (and I appreciate it if you have) to buy a copy from me, consider it now rare. Rather than fight the system or try to fly under the radar, I complied, like a good little girl, and unpublished Burning Willow.

Thank you all for your continued support and friendship. I will be back here within the next few days.

If you’d like further information on the new war against erotic literature, please check out this link:

http://selenakitt.com/blog/index.php/2012/02/19/slippery-slope-erotica-censorship/

Red-Head Spanked + Ass Videos – Extremetube.com.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAvLlPCbyQQ

I live with a dog. A very beautiful Blue Heeler (Australian Cattle Dog), which is a hard-working dog — normally. My little guy, however, is out of work, and he spends all of his waking minutes keeping his eagle eye on me whenever possible. Heelers are extremely devoted dogs. They’re very possessive and protective of three things; Human, Home and Truck. And, it’s not just me; I’ve seen other Heelers take on this same attitude towards their owners, turf and trucks — what can I say; they’re farm dogs … And, they are one owner dogs. I can kind of understand that manner of thinking since I am a one-man-woman … if I had a man …

Heelers are also extremely intelligent and thoughtful. You can see it in their faces without any action from them. Mine is actually cunning and calculating, and is easily bored. His athletic ability and agile ease on the course (he’s a flying disc dog) is remarkable. This can cause a very unpopular trait in the breed; they bite! They bite hard! Hard as Hell! My dog, Rudy, is a Blue Heller; not a Heeler … Because they are so beautiful, and friendly “looking” they are not always social to outsiders. On top of that, Rudy suffers from fear aggression.

So, I had this conversation online with a dom a few weeks ago, and we were talking about pets. I happen to hate cats – no, I don’t dislike them; I hate them … There. I’ve said it. Those among my luvvies who are cat lovers, please don’t be offended — I too suffer from fear aggression. But, this guy said that dogs can be a problem in a Domestic Discipline relationship; especially a protective, possessive, one-owner-beast such as mine. Oftentimes in a D/D relationship, you sometimes have spontaneous reactions to different situations, and a spur of the moment spanking can take place. Most dogs will freak out; regardless of their temperament — placing the parties in a position of either being licked to death, peed on, or attacked.

I already know what to expect in my house – carnage and bedlam. A jealous little dog with fear issues and the strength and determination of a war tank. So, I have a back-up system where he can be boarded short-term if I ever am blessed with company, or if I want to visit/travel. Yes, there is another human on earth besides my mother and myself that he actually likes and tolerates … Well, three others – he actually attempted to be social this summer and sort of made a couple of friends — on his terms. I don’t think he likes being mean and aggressive, but that’s how he is.

Last summer, I got him a dog house, which he has only entered once in order to pose for a picture. My garden rabbits now live in it, and he doesn’t seem to care. So, going outside for long lengths of time won’t work – maybe in warm, dry weather he might tolerate it. Except, even though he’s a bad-ass, he’s also a mamma’s boy and whimpers and cries … yes, yes, I’ve spoiled him. Did that with a couple of ex husbands too …

So, the potential scene would go something like this:

Take off your clothes and bend over the kitchen table, now!

Ears perk up …

Spread your legs and don’t you dare move!

Dog pretends to be asleep, but one eye is open …

The sound of a belt slides out of the loops of his jeans.

Both ears perk up …

A thoughtful hand gently caresses a bare, full up-turned bottom, anticipating that first, fateful stinging lash of the belt.

Dog sits straight up with “that” look on his face (the one that says what the fuck’s going on here?)

The belt is raised high in the air, ready to meet the plump, quivering ass, also raised to meet its biting snap against the skin.

Dog takes three steps backwards as if he is afraid …

The thick, pliable leather suddenly crashes against the buttocks, slapping against both cheeks in thundering unison and I cry out …

Dog too cries out, “Oh, Hell No!”

And just as the belt is raised once more, in what lover boy anticipates to be another wonderful lash to the ass, all hell breaks loose, and Dog saves the day — in his mind — forever protecting his loving mistress from the hands and belt of The Intruder. He has done his job, and stands at his dish waiting for his reward.

I stand at the door, sobbing softly as The Intruder hobbles to his car in haste, clutching what’s left of his crotch – front and back – all the while cursing me and my Heller – and threatening to sue …

But, you can’t board a dog forever; especially one who is used to being with you and giving his life and unconditional love to you …

My dog is not negotiable. I rescued him from a very abusive situation six years ago, and vowed to him that I would be in it for the long haul. At the time, I was still in a marriage void of passion, yet I never dreamed I would be on my own and searching for that one special love of my life again … Never dreaming my little man would be the obstacle that just might keep that dream from happening.

But, I’ve met a couple of guys over the years who do not fear Rudy. And, that goes a long way with an alpha male dog who believes he is Head of Household. In truth, dogs still love and need to be led. They don’t want the responsibilities of the world on them. They long to serve, be loved and give love. And working dogs want to work and get those perks too … Actually, they’re the ultimate sub.

I’ve had other Heelers in the past. All just like him; but none as devoted and loving as him – none as fierce as him … I know dogs don’t live forever …

What are your thoughts on this?

Unfortunately, Rusty hasn’t had any real adventures in a long time. So, today I had a conversation of sorts with a potential gentleman dom that I like very much. Not sure what he really thinks of me – I never know what they think … Somehow, this time, his opinion is profoundly important to me.

Well, he asked me about some recent posts where I spoke of my LOTM (Love of the Moment) …

Remember in the beginning, and on my “About Me” page, where I say some things I write are fact and some are fiction? Sometimes I cannot differentiate which is which. For instance, if I meet a man, and we like each other, and we talk about getting together or what we would do to each other if we ever got together — does that constitute a relationship; a wannabe relationship; or a fantasy? I’m not so sure.

There have been men in and out of my life that I have had a strong affinity for; some which I have fallen head over heels for, regardless of their lack of interest in me. And while I have spent time with some, it has not always been quality time, and often intimacy never even comes into play – especially when they discover that I am not ask kinky in thought as I may be in pen, or my tastes may not be as savory as theirs.

Don’t get me wrong; Rusty Nale is not an apple to ignore, if I say so myself. So, I’m not quite sure what it is that has kept me from having that glorious relationship with the Daddy Dom of my dreams … Well, maybe because I’d rather he be more of a daddy than a dom; I don’t know.

My desire is for a D/D (Domestic Discipline) relationship – pure and simple. D/s (and is it such an insecure thing that the “s” can’t be capitalized; does one really think his sub or whatever the hell she is, is not equal to his royal highness?) … Like I was saying, D/S is not really what I seek – although ALL doms like to tell me that it is – how would they know? What do they know about me? Let me get this straight … I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never, ever, ever let him forget he’s a man …. ’cause I’m a woman – with an un-capital S? Yep – Had one of them for a half a second years ago — Go cook and feed me, Bitch! And, if you’re lucky, I just might spank you … belch!”

So, have I been smitten? Certainly …

Have I loved? Yes. It is an honor for me to love you …

Has there been intimacy? Barely …

Has there been spanking? Hmm … let me think … Um … hmm … What was the question?

Have I been loved? Maybe. Who knows; it’s not like they tell me; and if they do, how do I know if he is only humoring me?

Have I felt like I was loved? Never!

So, again … I ask … How hard and how unreasonable is it for me to dream and hope that my yearning for a blissful D/D relationship is over the horizon for me? Would it be a jackpot if I stumbled into the arms of one who loved me with his whole heart and being; showered me with tenderness, comfort and affection – and joy over unabashed joy – I felt the same for him? And to make it even more wonderful – If he had the strong, yet gentle strength and determination to capture my heart, my mind, my soul and most certainly my body - the way I so crave, the frosting would be stuck to the cake forever. Moreover, if he knew when and how to spank me into submissive passion day after day, holding me in his arms as I leak gallons of tears that cleanse – yes, cleanse – my deepest heart wounds – what more could I ask for? Well, for one – please, oh, please, laugh at my jokes; know my fears; respect my limitations; and never, ever, ever take me away from me …

Is that too much to ask? Well, for most men, yes. At least, that’s what they tell me.

Am I prepared to spend the rest of my life alone? No.

Do I believe that because of these hopes, dreams and conditions, I will spend the rest of my life alone? Yes.

I gave thanks to you all who have not forgotten me – nor have I forgotten you …

Here’s a bit of frolic for the day – found it on spankingtube, and found it totally charming: http://www.spankingtube.com/video/450/

My new man, yes, I’m still smitten, asked me yesterday when did I first realize I loved being spanked. I told him that it was at the age of 4. For whatever reason, I chose to beat up my best friend on the way home from kindergarten … and a fine job I did on her too. However, her older brother (8) dragged me behind a house in our block and gave me a rapid fire bare bottom spanking – my first from someone outside of the family. There was silence on the other end of the phone, when My Daddy contemplated what I had told him. Then he remarked that the boy must not have known what he was doing either … Not so, he spanked me - and I loved every minute of it – all the way until I was in the 7th grade and he went off to fight in Vietnam.

But his real question, I believe, was when did I know (as a woman) that I loved to be spanked. Well, we all know the answer to that – my old train story. Haven’t read it? The link to that hot and juicy blog entry (Spanked on a Train) can be found below … way below …

HAPPY HUMP DAY!

Little did I know that I would be caught so off guard, stunned by his cool demeanor and intensely deep intellect. I was stunned and turned around by the way he regarded me quietly, while I made an ass of myself, stumbling, stuttering and stalling through our short meal – giddy and nervous like a school girl. His voice was quiet, steady and full to the brim with discipline. I wanted him at once, right there on that formica table at Denny’s – died for him to flip me over, raise my bottom bare for all to see – all those Sunday morning Baptists and Pentecostal and Apostolic Saints, in front of their chicken with noodles and beef Manhattans – and burn my backside without mercy until I confessed my sins … my horrific, nasty sins … the sins of running from his attentions; avoiding him; the sins of wasting so much time … I could have been his so much sooner. I longed for him to take that soup spoon from his place setting, and tear into my ass with fury, making me scream and beg for his forgiveness – making me scream and beg for him never to stop – until he was good and ready, and I fall helplessly exhausted into his arms … sobbing, sniveling, snotting my pleas of foolish womanly desire … the desire for him to place whatever type of collar on me – anywhere – anywhere he wanted …

And just as quickly, he was gone. Announcing days later that he would be busy and would have to put us on hold …

Excuse me? Did I hear right?

Yes, I did … This time, I was the one placed on the back burner – ass still unspanked, still feeling guilty and angry and bitchy – evil thoughts coursing through my veins.

He left me alone – for a  while … knowing my pain that stems from other things in my life … my mother’s failing health … my fears and inability to do the right thing, until I am ultimately forced to … He reappears gently every morning, sending me sweet messages. But, I am still angry – still stubborn – still willful … He cannot buy me so easily. I will ignore him forever!

Until yesterday … the lump growing between my breasts rises to my throat, strangling me, choking me, finally bursting force with projectile pride … I am empty, lost and cold. Without reason or any responsibility for my actions, I message him, “May I (please) come see you.”

“Of course, you can” is his simple reply.

Stunned, I stammered another message, begging him to allow me to come right away.

But, his response was totally unexpected. “Meet me instead” … He was taking a trip and invited me to attend.

Within the hour, whirlwind plans were made for our meeting soon – very soon. I am about to burst with excitement, sexual energy and a backside begging to be torn apart in the heat of his passion. Who knew … who knew 48 hours ago that these plans would be in place? Neither of us did …

And when he asked me softly on the phone yesterday if it meant that I would (finally) submit to him, I responded just as softly,

Yes.

Oh … Oh, to bed I go … enough of Lady Rusty’s foolishness for one weekend. Here’s one more absolutely erotic video for your viewing. This is one of my newest favorite couples on spankingtube.com. They post a weekly video simply called Weekly Spanking. I am completely hooked, and cannot wait until next week’s installment … unless, of course, it comes out when I am lounging in the arms of my new love … who knows?

http://www.spankingtube.com/video/10755/weekly-spanking-008

http://www.spankingtube.com/video/11374/hairbrush-spoon

Since he forced me to watch what was being

Done to me

In the full length mirror before us

Tied down across to hard chairs

Struggle was futile

But my will and angry resolve would not give

In

And I pulled and tugged anyway

Screaming Swearing Swirling in burning

Pain

Strike after Strike Again and Again

And when I turned away

Or looked away from the mirror in

Shame and grief and loss

You grab my hair

Forcing my eyes to meet my eyes

And admit

The evil being within me

Is winning.

This was not a spanking of

Play or

Punishment

or Pungent Pleasure

It is a spanking of unspeakable painful truth

Painful honesty …

Yes, the truth hurts

More than anything.

For instance, have you ever noticed that you don’t get motion sickness when you are the one in the driver’s seat? But, when you are a passenger and someone else is getting crazy on all the dips, curves and swerves of the road (or air), you lose total control over your physical reaction and, WHAM! You’re sick to your stomach, dizzy and seek the nearest window or open purse available.

I thought about this neat trick, and decided (of course,) to put it to the test. The road leading into our neighborhood is nothing but steep hills and sharp curves. For 20 minutes, I drove like a maniac back and forth, back and forth without the slightest twinge of nausea. Realize that this is a road I am ALWAYS sick on when I am the passenger – even when we’re traveling slow and easy. So, while I did not get motion sickness, I did get a nice, crisp Speeding Ticket!

The same goes for orgasms. I have had gentlemen ask me if I masturbate – especially during my self-imposed years of celibacy at the end of my last marriage … Yes, now you know the rest of the story … While, of course, I can masturbate, and do from time to time, I really don’t like to. I feel too detached from myself and it’s not so comfortable. So, my preference is to be masturbated by my partner, or even directed by him to do so, preferably in his presence. When it is hands on by me, I am in total control, and therefore know what to expect. There is no thrill, no tease, no sense of abandoned submission … Look, I’m not into submitting to myself … But, when he is doing it to me, there is absolutely no way I will know what to expect from moment to moment – what will he do to me; what will it feel like; what if he changes the pace – or worse, stops suddenly? The thrill and eventual impact are thuddering! (Is that a word?)

So, here’s my dilemma … I have … read about, watched videos, and witnessed acts of self-spanking … Um, yep. Sure, I know it’s the norm for some, but to me, it’s as alien as having sex with a jar of honey … yes, I have also witnessed that!

I did it once – one sharp swat with my long-handled antique shoe horn – screamed a damning curse at myself, and walked away. I get the concept of punishing yourself for various transgressions, but physical pain caused by myself is ludicrous (to me). I had an elementary school teacher who used to tell us to smack ourselves when we acted out in class, since there was no corporal punishment allowed – it was always more comical than anything … except for this one little boy, who was always (clearly) doing things on a daily basis in order to smack himself. We all, at our young, tender age, realized something was off. He didn’t just smack himself like we did (on the arm with our little palms). No, this guy brought his own metal ruler, and he obviously took great care and (obvious delight) in … He gave himself at least 5 or 6 sharp swats on the back of his saggy corduroys each time. We all snickered and giggled at first, but eventually, I and the others began to recoil the moment he stood up for his swats of shame at his own hands. I wonder whatever became of him and his metal ruler. Perhaps he’s a star on spankingtube; who knows?

But, again, I get as much thrill from self spanking as I would from eating dry oatmeal in the desert. So, this goes back to the theory of having that control, opposed to having it done to me by someone else. The mind reacts to the body, or the body does or does not react to the mind … Like I said, the second that first self-delivered smack lands on my own ass, I just simply get up and walk away … Yeah, try doing that in front of my dom …

Happy Labor Day, Lovies!

I am lying prone, spread over an old redwood picnic table, with my ankles and wrists secured tightly with bungee cords and all of my clothes bunched under my pelvis. I am naked in the dampness of my midnight garden. My golden backside, wet with dew, perspiration and glycerine, shimmering under the brightness of the Morning Star, and dozens of dimly fading solar lights here and there. I lightning bug lands gently on the plumpest curve up my upturned cheek and within seconds it is gone, tumbling to the ground dead, after you crush it instantly with a sudden wack of the metal trowel in your hand.

You dare me to speak, to cry out, or even shudder in the silence of the night, except for the endless opera sung by crickets, frogs and other creatures who lounge lazily in my small pond. This has gone on for hours. Me, naked before you, ass turned up and presented to you for both punishment and acceptance.

Punishment for what? For making us wait so long – for not allowing you to have me, to take me, possess and claim me. For denying you the ownership you so rightly had earned so long ago.

Acceptance? My fate, my life, my soul, heart and body now belong to you. To seal our vows, I am required to accept these things, no longer living a life of mindless confusion and frustration – but being guided and eased through life under your protection, care and will. Because of who we are, I must submit my backside to you every night to renew this vow, and accept your loving dominance and control. I have surrendered myself, naked, humbled and newborn to you.

Upon the 400th swat delivered to my bottom over and over again with that dreaded trowel (you chose this because it symbolizes my earthly connection to the soil and our love of this sacred place in the garden – AND because the almost silent thud it makes as it crashes against my tender skin will not arouse suspicion or awake our neighbors) – I am warned not to make a sound, or the nasty punishment will begin again from the top – no matter how painful and shameful it becomes – no matter how bright the sun may grow – no matter who may witness my shameful nakedness at the hands of my lover – no matter what it takes. My submission will never be complete. At the 400th blow, I finally groan aloud. My mouth and throat are filled with your thick, hard penis, shoved to the back of my mouth, so my groan is not loud enough to warrant another round of pain and agony to my flaming ass. You stand at the head of the table, holding my head steady with a handful of my thick, nappy, coily hair wrapped tightly in your left hand, and the wicked trowel in your right. Pounding my ass again and again as you cum down my throat one last time … one last time …

My ass begs for your attention, longs for your gentle after care you always provide me once our renewal is complete. But, no. You leave me lying there, naked, alone, helpless on this altar of love and submission – casually walking into the house for your morning coffee and a nap before you leave for work. I lie there, face down, tears spilling down my cheeks and cum dripping from my hair, running down my back and pooling at the crack of my deeply plugged ass. I lie there in the early dawn as the sun rises to the east, grazing my brows and glaring onto my closed eyes.

I hear the screen door of the neighbor, who comes out to do his early morning weeding in his own garden – knowing what he will see each and every morning, rain or shine, summer or winter – his morning delight. No words are spoken, nor do we or can we acknowledge each other. My submission is yours, and this is how you have chosen me to give it.

Naked, humble and shamed – for all the world to see — and envy.

Note: The link did not work earlier; this should do it:

http://www.spankingtube.com/video/169/

In my modest way of celebrating, please comment below with any special requests for story-lines you would like me to write in the next month or so. I will attempt to do so in the order received, unless your recommended topic just jumps out at me. This may be in the form of short story, essay or erotic poetry, whichever comes to me.

Have a wonderful day!

RUSTY NALE

What’s this got to do with spanking? Oh, for God’s sakes, please! What dom or daddy or whatever would not want to get his hands on uncontrollable hips and ass?

Click on the photo below to see this beautiful dance in motion …

At 2:30 a.m.

Legs tangled in satin sheets bound tightly

Around knees and ankles and

Waist

Partly from the hot, sticky, foggy

Heat of a summer night thick with

Loneliness, Lust and Languid

Bursts of insomnia

Partly from his skillful twists and turns

As he binds her to

His Will

Tying up her wants and desires and needs

Deeply entwined with his passion and demanding

Manhood

This hot, steamy, torrid, messy, burning night.

The faint sound of his footsteps on the street below

Fade madly into the sweaty night air …

http://www.spankingtube.com/video/9741/la-la-s-reminder-paddled-hand-spanking

The couple in this clip (her name is La-La, and he’s her hubby) have some wonderful videos on spankingtube.com. Check them out (under sospankable), and tell me (moreover, tell La-La) how well you like their work.

Have a powerful week.

He inquired as to what was the difference in a playful spanking and erotic, and what would warrant a punishment spanking?

Let me clarify. This gentleman is a dominant who likes to spank, but I don’t think he’s really  a Dom; that’s just not in him. We found we had very much in common, but circumstances in both our lives would not allow us to be together at this time – so we chose not to proceed with a relationship.

Back to our discussion.

I advised him (now, this is solely MY personal interpretation – nothing is ever written in stone in my life):

Erotic spankings and playful spankings run very, very close. Almost always, play spankings can turn erotic – and is used as foreplay with some people. I did when I was younger. See, spanking does different things to me. It eats away the layers of my pain like an onion – I have hurts deep inside, and sometimes I get a huge emotional release when I’m spanked. If my dom knows I’m holding things in, he’ll spank me until I cry uncontrollably – it’s the pain and the release – and the pain purges my heart. With the stress and anxiety in my life, I could use one – but I’ve not been properly spanked in ages …
 
Some play spankings are just that. Afterwards, the two get up, laugh it off and go about their business (like a birthday spanking I guess). For me, though, it’s strictly primal … animal. My threshold for pain is low, but I recover very quickly – a matter of minutes – and I’m ready again. But, you know, 80% is trust, 20% is chemistry. It all depends on the two involved.
 
What would warrant a punishment spanking? Whatever you say … But, something that displeased you, going against your requests, disrespect, … This would result in a session I would never – or at the very least, no time soon – forget. They are not taken, nor given lightly.

Oh … I didn’t even touch upon Maintenance Sessions!