Me: A Naughty One

I am an ordinary spanko girl, a wanna be rock star. A girl who plows through life at breakneck speeds armed only with her cape, a girl who never cries when she falls down.

Once quoted: "Now that's enough to make any spanko swoon!"

Him: The Professor

He is a high socked, strict, very swoony and academically inclined, adult male authority figure with a passion for administering hard but caring spankings to bright, creative, and impulsive naughty girls that need to learn discipline.

Once quoted: "I determine fair, Young Lady"

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  • Back to School
  • Bring Me Your Hairbrush Naughty One
  • Revel in the Sensation, Naughty One
  • Guess the Implement Part I
  • Stay There and Relish Your Caning
  • Anticipation
  • Your Good Girl
  • Photo Album
  • I Am Me Again

  • You Are Spanked When You Are Bad
  • Report to the Headmaster's Office
  • How She Came to Be
  • Open Letter of Gratitude
  • Back to the Spanking Basics
  • Essence of a Girl
  • Who We Are
  • Discipline/Punishment/Correction
  • Spanking it Forward
  • Sore Bottom Reflections
  • What About A Spanking Blog, Mr. Vonnegut?
  • Feeling the Burn: Accepting the Spanko Parts
  • Spanking Me Home: Thoughtful Fences and Limits
  • My Thoughts on Punishment Spanking
  • Spanking Acceptance and Enjoyment
  • Constructing a Spanking Relationship
  • Risk and Spanking Dynamic
  • Let that be a Lesson
  • Fascist Spanko DJ
  • Bang Bang You're Swooning
  • Falafel, a Caning, and a Reset For A Naughty School Girl
  • Masochist? No But That Works Too
  • Commenting On Comments
  • Naughty Girls Get Spanked
  • Newest Spanking Purchase
  • Chasing the Burn
  • Spankings for Good Girls
  • Father Figure
  • The Non-Physical Cuddle
  • Peppermint Stick Rocks
  • Quacks Like A Spanko
  • A Gift
  • Exquisite Pain of Spanking
  • 100 Spanking Things About Us
  • So What Does a VCS Bath Brush Feel Like?
  • It's Gotta Be the Weather
  • Filed Under: Humiliation
  • Productive Authority
  • Losing My Voice
  • Killing Me Softly
  • Tantalizing
  • A Work in Progress
  • Falling Down A Rabbit Hole
  • Roleplay: Playground for the Creative Mind
  • 100 Things About Me
  • Punishment Spanking Tomorrow
  • Discipline-o-gram
  • Antsy Spanko Girl
  • Spanking Horny
  • Ramona's Brave Bottom
  • I Am Running Away to Join the Circus, So Don't Wait Up
  • Spanking Videos? Oh, Please Tommy Lee Jones
  • Secret Spanko Country Fan
  • Bored and Grounded So Explicate Me
  • Night 2 of Adv. of a Grounded Naughtyopath
  • Spanking Tunnel Vision
  • Call On me~Spanking Trigger?
  • Happy Spanko-ween
  • Spanking Game Called On Account of Rain
  • Stupid Is As Stupid Does
  • Even Silk Can Be Tacky
  • What Type of Spanking Do You Crave
  • Twas The Night Before Christmas, Professor
  • I Have A Cold...Sniffle
  • Musings of an Approval Masochist
  • Insatiable Spankee's Ultimate Spanking Fantasy
  • Vague Spanking Fantasy
  • Schoolgirl Spanking: The Fairchild Way
  • Needing This: Part 2
  • Needing This: Part 1
  • A Caning Story
  • Do I Have Your Attention?

  • Spanking stories galore!
  • Its like a morning newspaper....for spankos :)
  • Erotic spanking, corporal punishment, discipline, spanking clips, spanking parties, spanking chat....I could go on and on :)
  • Spanking video clips and pictures...a fav of Professor's
  • Aimed at Colorado spankos, I think this is a great site for everyone looking for corporal punishment information.

  • She truly is one of the most amazing writers....her story writing is something to aspire to
  • Professor's swoony school girl site that he made for spanking roleplays
  • Erotic spanking stories that push buttons :)
  • The ultimate haven for the private school girl in all of us. I love these stories. Very spank worthy ;)
  • Free spanking pictures & great links
  • I cut my teeth on the stories on this site when I was first exploring my spanking kink
  • I love this site

  • Straps, paddles galore for the discerning disciplinarian
  • Wooden paddles, leather straps, rattan canes, birches...ugh! So many ways to punish a naughty bare bottom!
  • The $15 long handled wooden bathbrush: A Disciplinarian's wet dream and a naughty bottom's worse nightmare.

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    Professor, what kind of masochist am I?

    Little One,

    After some brief thought, "Approval Masochist" is the best I have come up with. You seek approval from me like another masochist seeks pain ("Pain Masochist", or another seeks humilation ("Humiliation Masochist"). The categories are not exclusive. That is some S&M types tend to be "Pain and Humilation". You are "Approval and Pain".

    - Your Professor

    Wednesday, October 19, 2005

    Masochist? No, But That Works Too....

    The day after my caning I am productive as usual. Overly productive as a matter of fact. It happens like this for me....the night of a good spanking, I am in La La land....coasting....dreamy eyed...still on a high from my day's adventures.

    The next day? It is like someone lit a fire under me. Okay, I can't believe I actually wrote that last sentence, but that is what it's like (no pun intended). Actually, is it considered a pun if it really happened?

    Anyway, spanking focuses me. It pulls me out of my own head and back to the real world. I tend to obsess. About everything. And I think a lot. And over analyze.

    Too much analysis is counter productive, so a good session with the cane is just the thing I need to catapult me out of my head and into the physical world. Simply put, by spanking me, Professor is shutting off the television and kicking my psyche out to play "Go outside and enjoy the day, Naughty One!". Well, something like that.

    And so, I am productive. Very, very, very productive.

    This morning, which started off innocuously, found me in the kitchen nervously hovering over skater kid (my very independent, much too precocious for his own good, extremely eager to express his rather verbose communication skills and superior knowledge, progeny) who was teetering precariously on the edge of a chair, spatula in hand, intent on sharing his pancake flipping prowess.

    Study Boy who has been trying the whole telecommuting thing recently, was hard at work in his office (well, not really...when I brought him a plate of mangled looking pancakes, he was reading The Daily Kos). Life was good for all.

    Later on, while cleaning the kitchen after what will now be referred to as "The Great Pancake Incident", I happened to glance out my window and catch sight of a bazillion peppers that needed to be picked. And I stood there for a few moments wondering what I was going to do with them.

    My Garden. I am a very obsessive person. Whenever I get an interest in something, it is not like your average interest. I do everything to excess, in fact moderation doesn't exist in my vocabulary. I will immerse myself in a new interest, learning anything and everything about it, allowing it to wash over me until I am completely saturated.

    That being said, my vegetable garden is a prime example of my excess. Of excess in general I think. Not only do I have a huge garden with more food producing plants than one family could possibly need, but when I am partial to a member of the veggie family, I am even more excessive. This year it is peppers. Hot peppers actually. I planted rows of hot pepper plants of every variety imaginable. Rows.

    Anyway, it was at my kitchen window, with habeneros and hungarian hot wax and cherry peppers for culinary muses, that I had the inspiration to cook Lamb Vindaloo for dinner. We love Indian food. Love it. Hence the over abundance of chilies that are presently inhabiting prime real estate in my garden.

    I like having Study Boy around, so I really dig the whole telecommuting thing. He was reticent at first when we talked about him working from home a couple of days a week because he thought that he would be too distracted by the day to day disasters that occurred in our house to be productive. Yeah. That's what he said. Disasters:

    Me: ~looking extremely offended~ Disasters? Did you say disasters? I will have you know that most of the time this house runs like a well oiled machine!

    Study Boy: *blink* *blink* *blink*

    Uh huh. Yeah. So, to encourage more telecommuting from my obviously delusional mate, I have started cooking elaborate meals on the days he works from home. Yes, I bribe him with food. And he loves Lamb Vindaloo. Well, he loves all Indian food because well, Indian food rocks. And for me, the hotter the better.

    So early in the afternoon, after being very productive and completing all sort of productive things (the specifics of which slip my mind at the moment), I grabbed my wicker basket and headed outside to pick some peppers.

    A wicker basket is totally one of those romanticized gardening image things. In gardening books and magazines, you always see pictures of women wearing plastic clogs, serenely wandering through their gardens, with a pair of pruning shears in one hand, and a wicker basket piled high with veggies in the other.

    There is no way I would be caught dead in a pair of pink plastic garden clogs, but I did buy a basket. By the way, a basket piled high with veggies is a bitch to try to carry. I would love to think I resemble serenity while huffing and wheezing, lugging...no dragging....my basket laden with vegetables......my sodden, mud covered converse sneakers making squish squash noises as I walk......

    Anyway, after several back breaking hours, I returned to the kitchen with a mountain of peppers and other various vegetables and after grabbing my favorite cookbook off the shelf, I sat down to read......... and rubbed my eye.

    Have you ever touched your eye after handling hot chilies?

    I am not sure if it was the steady screaming coming from my mouth, as I dashed from room to room frantically clawing at my eye, or the numerous creative expletives that I launched loudly into the air, or the fact that skater kid, who remembers *everything* he hears, was walking around mumbling things like "Goddamn, fucking son of a bitching whore".

    But something drew Study Boy away from his desk, and I caught a glimpse of him staring at me from the safety of the doorway of the guest bathroom, with a confused/bemused sort of horrified look on his face as I tore my contact out, threw it in a case full of solution, and then jammed my whole head under the faucet to save what remained of my retina.

    Study Boy: Um....is everything okay?

    Me: ~my body contorted in an odd angle in order to get my head under the tap at the bathroom sink~ Uh, yeah sure. Why wouldn't it be?

    Skate Kid: ~walking by wearing nothing but tuxedo pants and a pair of swim goggles~ What is a fucking mother slut whore anyway?

    Study Boy: *blink* *blink* *blink*

    Several long minutes later, my eye very swollen and very red, my sopping wet hair stuck to my face, I casually strolled/crept down the hall, grabbing skater kid along the way, and headed to the kitchen to grind spices and give an appropriate answer to the "mother slut" question.

    The rest of the afternoon went by pretty smoothly. Well, smoothly if you ignore the few moments just after I went back to the bathroom, opened up my contact case and put my "clean" contact back in my eye, up to the moment just after I re emerged from the bathroom, red eyed and dripping wet, once again. Did you know that saline solution does *not* remove capsicum residue from a contact lens? I didn't.

    I made two batches of Lamb Vindaloo for dinner because I like my Indian food to be hot. Obscenely hot. I like it hot enough to make my eyebrows sweat and my nose run, and so I usually like to add a lot of chilies...usually green chilies, but a chili is a chili right? So, I made a medium hot version for everyone else and a very hot version for myself.

    As I sat at the dinner table this evening, my cheeks flushed, the rivulets of sweat running down my face to drip on the collar of my third clean and dry t shirt of the day, I spied (with my one undamaged eye) Study Boy watching me eat. My nose was running from the intense spiciness and I kept wiping it with my sleeve.

    Me: What?

    Study Boy: ~A bemused smile creeps on his face as he watches my nose start to drip again~ You know, you really are......

    Me: A masochist? ~I ask sarcastically, finishing his sentence while wiping my sweaty brow with a napkin~

    Study Boy: Uh....no. A really good cook. But "masochist" works too.

    Me: *blink* *blink* *blink*