At last, we have calm waters and clear skies. What a sight that blesses my eyes as I step out to the balcony. My love, you radiate even in the shade as you skinny dip in the tickling freshness of the bay air. I can feel your serenity and contentment, your celebration of freedom in nakedness. What a beautiful thing is a sunny day where the moon also shines.
I will come up behind you, flank you in my arms, and deeply breathe the scent of your hair. You will feel me against you. You will know it is me—if not at first, then as soon as my hand grazes across your bare bottom. My touch will warm and moisten you. And, at the instant of contact, our minds will synchronize on a thought. For we both readily know what my caress foreshadows.
We have reached peace with it. No longer is your desire for it mixed with alarm, nor is your passion tempered by shame. You've broken your chains. Now my arms are all that ever bind you.
And soon, we will again express our love in our best way. Right here on the balcony, I will take my place on my throne and you will come to court. But it is not a trial, for we both already know the verdict. Nor must you request, for we both know I'm already committed. Nor is it role-play, for we are never more our true selves.
My love, I will spank you. Not punishment, nor even foreplay. Just because there's no other way we'd rather spend the afternoon.
My lovely readers, it's the most wonderful time of the year! One of the things I love most about the season is its music. The merry, the sacred, the mundane: I smile when I hear it all!
...well, almost. There are some songs of the season that I can hardly stomach. Now. the Christmas songbook reaches back centuries and just about every artist in that last fifty years has put out a Christmas album—most of them good. Yet the radio and whatever musak service to which retailers subscribe seem to regurgitate the same playlist over and over and over again. Most of these songs are just fine for the first few listens. But by late December...bah, humbug!
Which brings me to Wham! Damn Wham! If I sound all worked up, it's only because the duo conspired in their naming so that one can not state, but only exclaim, about Wham! I consider myself quite appreciative of a broad spectrum of music, but frankly, their songs make me want to go-go jump-jump out of a window.
So the other day, I was standing in line for coffee when their Christmas gem started to play. I felt my stomach drop at that oh-so-familiar, synthesized introduction. My first instinct was to flee, but...well, I really needed that coffee. As a coping mechanism, inspired by Bonnie's work over the years, I tried to mold the song into something this spanko can smile at again. In the spirit of the season, and in hope that it will aid you should you find yourself, without earmuffs, in the same situation, I thought I'd share with you what I came up with.
If it's not already on a loop in your head, here's the original:
The song has a rather irregular meter, so some of my modifications to the verses don't fit with Mr. Michael's utterances exactly. But anyway, enjoy the butt-smacking rendition.
Last Christmas (spanko version)
Last Christmas, I spanked you real hard,
But the very next day, the sting went away.
This year, to double the tears,
I'll spank you with somethin' special.
Last Christmas, I spanked you so long,
But the very next day, a brat anyway.
This year, to be more severe,
I'll spank you with somethin' special.
Lil' kitten, you know why
I keep on having to put you 'cross my thigh.
Tell me baby, will you learn your lesson?
Well, if not, girl, it wouldn't surprise none.
(Gonna spank you) I'll show you that I meant it
With this paddle—I hope I don't dent it.
Then you'll beg me to cool your ass,
But if I grant reprieve, I know I'd just hear more sass.
Last Christmas, I spanked you real hard,
But the very next day, the sting went away.
This year, to double the tears,
I'll spank you with somethin' special.
Last Christmas, I spanked you so long,
But the very next day, a brat anyway.
This year, to be more severe,
I'll spank you with somethin' special.
And now in gloom, you have teary eyes.
Your hide now sure could melt a bowl of ice.
My dear, I know you will misbehave again soon.
Gee, I guess I will then show you the wood spoon.
A face on a lover with a fire on her bum.
A girl in the corner with cheeks dark as a plum.
Now I'll show you more love, get over my knee again.
Care to ponder for a bit about symbolism in erotic photography?
Rather than put up another lame "I'm too busy to think of anything creative" post--not that I won't do so again in the near future--I thought that this would be a good opportunity to introduce some interactivity to Ecce Spanko. I came across these two photographs while tumblring and I'm wondering about the grapes and the pine cones. Grapes and pine cones appear in non-erotic art with symbolic meaning, but I don't see an obvious meaning in an erotic context—as opposed to bananas and cherries, for example. Now, I'm really not one that thinks art has to have meaning to be good. Nevertheless, I'm curious.
So what do you think? Use your imagination. There's no right or wrong here, so have some fun with it.
