Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Snuffing Out A Bad Habit (director's cut edition)

Dana Kane just recently published my second attempt to win one of her F/M story contests.  I lost again, but that's not all that important.  I really enjoy writing stories, I just need some encouragement to do so, whether that encouragement is in the form of a carrot or a stick.  I have three M/F stories in draft form saved and just waiting for someone to have a story contest where the best story writer gets to give her a spanking!  I have serious respect for those blogs that are primarily story blogs.  For me at least, writing fiction is much more work, and far more time consuming than just talking/typing-to-the-screen blogging.

Again, this is a director's cut version, because at the deadline I had to send it from my phone in a hurry.  This led to some formatting issues, but I hadn't given it a final proofing, either.  I have an ancient blackberry, because I'm too stubborn to change.  Not only did some of the inner thoughts that were supposed to have been italicized instead come out with *asterisks* surrounding those sentences, but as anyone who's emailed me probably knows, my worn-out spacebar coupled with the auto-correct two spaces = period and capitalizing the next letter... leads to sentences that.  Comeout something.  Likethis.  Actually I don't think it's as good as my entry into her previous contest, but I'm willing to say (with these edits) it's not bad.  For those of you into F/M spanking stories... enjoy.

Before we get to the story, to get you in the mood here's a funny song about dipping tobacco from Robert Earl Keen (audio only).

Snuffing Out A Bad Habit
A good day's work, and it's only 4:30.  Jim's gonna be thrilled.  He'll owe me one. I thought to myself while taking a leak.  Thump thump wiggle wiggle tuck zip flush.  I washed my hands in the sink, looked up into the mirror, straightening my tie, Yup, even under florescent lights, still handso--  woops. The self- congratulatory thoughts were cut short when I smiled and saw it.  There in my teeth was a flake of Copenhagen.  Dammit!  Must've been there since just after lunch- wonder how many people at the conference table noticed?  Don't kid yourself- all of them.


"Daddy, what's this?" my five year old asked, holding up an empty can of dip.

"Uh, it's uhm... one of Daddy's things. Thank you." I said, taking it from him.

"Hey, I was gonna use it as an artifact for the lego explorers!"

My son watches too many "educational" cartoons, I guess.  But it did look like it could be a cool artifact. The shiny gold metal lid with raised writings and symbols... But then I saw my wife Lauren give me a look.  I'm not always the best at interpreting those looks, but this one was clearly disapproving.

"No, this goes in the Daddy closet with the tools. Sorry bud."

"Aw, man!"

And just to make sure I understood, my lovely wife gave me a good uhm, "chewing" out about how she hopes our boys never pick up that disgusting habit, oh, and by the way when was I going to grow up?!


Then there were the yahoo health articles on mouth cancer left up on the computer, and the comment about Roger Ebert, and the looks every time someone mentioned anything about cancer.

Dipping tobacco was a nasty habit. Not as bad as smoking- my clothes and car didn't smell bad, nor did it affect my ability to jog, but it was a bad habit that I wanted / needed to quit.  A remnant of both my country upbringing and my fraternity days that if I'm being honest was a full blown addiction. I'd tried to quit before, and had a couple of times. I quit for 30 days before the life insurance physical... Then promptly put in a nice big fat celebratory dip for having done so.

I tried to be discreet, because I knew my wife didn't like it, and didn't want the boys to know.  But in the car, in the john, working outside in the yard, those increasing rare days playing golf... I had a dip in.  Plus it had become increasingly expensive in the last few years.

It was time.

Didn't tell anyone, didn't want to make a big deal out of it, plus I'd tried twice before and when I went back to it, my wife was livid. Not that I planned on failing to quit, but based on that experience, I wasn't planning on telling her about it either. Starting with the new year, I'd quit. Well, okay, starting Monday the 2nd. (New Years Day was a holiday, right?)

A lot of gum chewing, but the first day wasn't that bad.  The second day was.  The third day was even worse. So much for not making a big deal of it and keeping it to myself. My wife knew because I was grumpy and in a foul mood and didn't touch the beers in the fridge.  (I knew from previous attempts that alcohol was a quick way to lose this battle.)

"Honey I am sooo proud of you. I know you're strong enough to make it stick this time. I'm so happy!  No more little flakes of dried dip when I sweep, no more spit bottles I find out in the garage, no more half empty cans you try to hide but forget about until I find them.  Come here, how about a big kiss on those clean lips!" Lauren went on and on...

"Enough!" I roared. The last think I wanted to talk about was dipping, I was trying to block all thought of it from my mind.

But somehow three days led to a week, one week led to another, and though the craving never left, I was through the worst of it and had made it over a month.


It was early February and I was about to start on our taxes. I have a small study in our home that's really more like a large closet. I've always done my own taxes, and doing them online was fairly simple. I keep fairly well organized and was almost done but was finishing and couldn't find our kids' social security numbers, dangit!  I opened the bottom drawer of my little desk and dug around in the files- the paper copy from last year was in here  somewhere...

CLINK, rattle, rattle, rattle...

One of those half empty cans of dip I'd forgotten about fell off a stack of papers and made its distinctive sound as it hit the bottom of the drawer.  I stared at it.   I picked it up.  I opened it up and took a long deep sniff.  Mmmm... It was mostly dried out -who knows how long it had been there- But it sure smelled good.

Then I closed the lid and slid the can back across the desk. Nope. It took me about an hour more finishing up and double checking before finally clicking "submit" and being done with it. (Well, done with it except for having Lauren "sign" it too with her email.)

I felt pretty good about myself, and had plans for the refund.  Walking around the house in my socks, I checked and everyone was soundly asleep.  Our littlest had somehow made his way into our bed and was snuggled up with my wife.  Cute.

Down to the kitchen I went to grab a couple of beers and some chips before heading back up to my study. Long week, taxes done, temptation resisted... I was going to enjoy myself looking at spanking videos on the computer. Oh yeah, I may have forgotten to mention that. My wife and I are both into spanking. Just foreplay, basically, but pretty intense and kinky foreplay I suppose. Occasionally we'd incorporate real transgressions to spice it up, but we didn't live a domestic discipline lifestyle, by any means- most spankings involved roleplay, which led to great sex.  (A lot less frequent with little ones running around, though.)

So I undid my pants, twisted the bottle cap off, and settled in for some happy personal time.

One beer (and one mess cleaned off my stomach) later, I looked at the can on the back of the desk where I'd pushed it away earlier.  It wasn't going anywhere, just waiting for me.  Maybe I should just finish it off. Not like I stopped at a convenience store to get a can.  It just basically (almost literally) fell into my lap. It was mostly dry, so I wouldn't enjoy it much.  But I should finish it off before I had it tempt me every time I came up here to get work done, right?


"Isn't it a little early for spring cleaning, honey?"

"I don't care. We haven't had a free weekend in over a month, and this house is FINALLY going to get really clean, not just straightened up.  Have you SEEN behind the boys' toilet?"

No getting in Lauren's way when she's determined to clean. She'd go through a box of swiffers and half a bottle of windex today, I was sure.

I came back from running errands and the house smelled like lemons and disinfectant.

"Honey I have a lot more to do, but we have that birthday party for the Smith's son at 2:00.  Would you mind taking the kids? 'No gifts' so I just got him a cookie from cookie bouquet. It's already wrapped."

"No problem. How much more cleaning can you do, though?  House looks and smells great already."

"I haven't even touched organizing the play room or your study."

Crap, I got rid of the can last night, didn't I?! I thought to myself.   On the outside, I said, "You've done enough sweetie, there's no point going upstairs. You know how I organize our files, and the boys playroom will stay organized and clean for about 5 minutes- max."

"I'm on a roll and not stopping, hon.  But if you're worried about the house being too clean... We can make a big mess in our bedroom tonight -MeeMaw wants the kids to spend the night!" she said, snuggling up for a

"Mmm, and it's been awhile since this got any attention," I said, squeezing her bottom.

"Down boy! You're right, but first you have to go to a Batman party." She said with a smirk and gave me a little squeeze of her own.

I high-tailed it up to the study and doubled checked that I'd thrown the can away. Whew!

Then off to the Batman party. I felt sorry for the guy dressed up as Batman. Somehow the dark knight making balloon animals just seemed a little sad.  But the kids had fun, and did the usual small talk with all the other dads, all of whom were equally miserable. Kids were excited to spend the night with MeeMaw, and I was excited they'd be spending the night with MeeMaw too!

On the way home I went over in my head possibilities for tonight. Go out? Cook at home?  Weird... Lauren always answers the phone, but she hadn't when I called on the way to MeeMaw's and wasn't answering now either. Irritating.


"Honey? What's going on?  Why aren't you answering your phone? You know that's one of my pet pee-"

"I'm in here." She called out from our bedroom.

"Oh, you were in the shower -got it- hey wait, that mustve been an awfully long shower! I called you almost an hour ago!" I yelled to the other end of the house.

"I know. I didn't answer because I was angry." She hollered back.

Dammit-What now?! Did she not appreciate that I'd just suffered through not just a preschool birthday party but her mom's 20 minute conversation about Aunt Sarah too?!  I made my way to our bedroom and stopped short when I saw her.  Nude, she still took my breath away.  Her gorgeous hourglass
figure shimmered.  The setting sun's light coming in through the window caught the drops of water covering her body. My eyes were drawn involuntarily to her dark triangle and then her breasts wobbling as she toweled off her hair. What was I irritated about again?

But when I looked up, her smile was missing.

"I didn't answer your calls because I was angry. I'm not angry anymore but we need to talk." She said calmly.


"Care to explain this?"

She handed me a swiffer with some dust bunnies and lots of little brown specks stuck to it.


"Those look like dip flakes sweetie but they're pretty old and dry. When was the last time you cleaned the study?" Notice how I didn't deny it but tried to parry the implied accusation?

"Nice try.  I cleaned it in January... AFTER you quote quit." She said, making air-quotes with her fingers as she went back into the bathroom.

She returned and had put on her robe and was carrying her hairbrush.


She sat down on our bed and patted it just beside her, indicating she wanted me to take a seat as well.

"I'm not going to ask you to explain yourself. You're just going to dig a bigger hole for you to have to crawl out of.  But don't interrupt me.  I've been practicing what I want to say in my head.  While I was in the study, and after I'd calmed down a bit I looked up quitting nicotine on the computer. Turns out the average quitter is successful on their sixth attempt to quit. This is your third time, but you're above average,  right?  Ah- don't interrupt.  Also read that an occasional slip up is fairly common and doesn't necessarily  mean that the effort to quit has been in vain. Look I want to do everything I possibly can to encourage you.  This is a big deal.  I want you sitting on the rocking chair on the porch with me when we're old and wrinkly, and you won't make it to old and wrinkly unless you quit. So I'm going to give you a spanking, and it's gonna be a good one."

"Wait, I-"

"Ah-  what did I say about interrupting? My mind's made up but I really want you to hear me out.  This is not a punishment spanking, but an encouraging one. We don't do punishment spankings- well, except for that time I got too drunk at that wedding- but I want to help you, help us, win this battle. I want for the spanking to be bad enough that the next time your tempted to backslide, your backside will scream 'No!' So... Now you get to talk. Do you have anything to add?"

"Not really.  Sorry sweetie.  Yup, I was guilty of backsliding, as you called it. And I don't want to again."   I thought about arguing or getting out of it, and I probably could have, but truthfully I really wanted to quit, and probably deserved this as punishment but if she wanted to call it encouragement, so be it.

"Alright then, honey, come on." I stood in front of her and let her undo my belt and pants, pulling them down. As she pulled my underwear down too, I had my natural reaction to an upcoming spanking and her face positioned just in front of my crotch.  I couldn't resist; "But why not encourage me with a carrot instead of a stick?"

"Oh honey," she said grabbing me, "there'll be plenty of time to have some fun with your carrot later. First though, it's over my knees you go."

Her bathrobe parted, and her thighs were still a bit damp as she adjusted me a little.


She started awfully strong. "Hey, what happened to a warm up?!"

"This [SMACK] is [SMACK] a warmup. I'm not using the hairbrush yet."

On and on the "warmup" continued. Rapidly it became hot and uncomfortable, then outright started to really hurt.  Before too long, she picked up the hairbrush and continued at the same pace. I was tensing and groaning with each searing spank. She didn't lecture, but told me in a soothing voice how much she loved me and how she knew I could do it but just SPLAT wanted SMACK to give me SMACK WHACK all the CRACK encouragement WHAP she could.

Usually our spankings were given with the spankee naked, and it was kind of different to have my boots still on and my jeans around my ankles. It meant I couldn't really kick, just took it and took it and took the pain some more.  (With lots of growling and gripping the bedspread so tight my knuckles were white thrown into the mix too.)

Finally she relented, and patting my butt told me to get up and take off my clothes. Carrot time? I wondered.

"Up on the bed. On your knees, I want your face down on the pillow." Guess not.  She fondled my bottom, poked a couple of bad spots, then using her nails and then a finger moistened in her mouth fondled and teased my whole throbbing bottom, even my bottom hole.  I just groaned feeling the mixture of pleasure, pain, and relief that she wasn't inflicting even more pain.

"You know, I think just a little more encouragement is needed where I missed some spots here, here, and right in here too," She said, ever so sweetly, "stay put, honey, I'll be right back!"

And she was, carrying the long thin wooden kitchen spoon.

"I'm getting a little warm with all this encouragement," she said, shucking her bathrobe, and hopping on the bed in front of me. She spread her knees and crawled toward me, tantalizing me but then kept going past my head until she was straddling my back on her knees.

"Now, where were we? Oh yeah, we were encouraging all of your bottom not to be tempted to dip again.  Even these parts of your bottom [snap, snap] and these parts [snap, snap!] And even this little cute part right [snap!] here!"  Each little strike was intense and stung as she got the insides of my cheeks and thighs. In my current position I couldn't even really tense up and avoid them easily. Over and over again the little snaps of the spoon stung my tender parts until I was on the verge of tears. Just when I truly. Could not take any more, she sat down on my back.  "Okay honey, do you think your bottom will be screaming 'NO!' the next time you're tempted?"

"Yes" was all I could groan in response.

"Let's make double sure!" And then she proceeded to spank me all over with rapid-fire blows of the spoon that did send me over the edge to tears.

Next thing I realized, she had scooted up in front of me again, her legs still spread.

"Honey, I love you, and I had to do that for you, and for us."

She leaned over and wiped my tears and kissed my face and rubbed her hand in my hair.

"It's almost time to take care of your carrot, but first, before we finish this, let's give those healthy lips some exercise," she said with a smile, pulling my face toward her.

My lips (and my carrot) got plenty of exercise that night. I can't say that I've QUIT dipping- I now think it's more of a lifetime struggle against temptation, but it's been a couple more months now and so far, so good. At least I have my loving wife there to "encourage" me when I need it!


  1. Wow! I didn't know your wife spanked YOU! I do hope it helps you to quit such a disgusting habit, though:)! Good for her!!!


  2. Thank you so much for taking the time to read it, much less post a comment. I really appreciate it. But, uhmmm... It was a story. A work of fiction. My wife doesn't know how into spankings I am. Hence the term SECRETspanko. I have struggled with that disgusting habit, though, and I'm glad I was able to convey some sense of realism to the story.

  3. I just found your blog from my comment section. Great story, I only wish I could have spanked my hubby for his chew habit! But, he says I'm not allowed to!

    I've had a few good swats in here and there a few times, when he wanted to see what an implement felt like, but he said the punishments were just for me (because I "need" them)

    I think he just likes it and won't admit it!
    I have always had this thought that he was a secret spanko! I know he likes spanking me, but I have a feeling he likes it himself. :)

  4. Sorry, I just now saw this. Well, at least he's been willing to see what they feel like. I think actually taking a spanking would be helpful, at least once, just for educational purposes!