Book Review: A Deal with a Dominant Man by DJ Black


LSF Publications have released an ebook of one of DJ Black’s final (or, I hope, most recent) serials from his A Voice in the Corner blog.   A Deal with a Dominant Man is a lovely blend of workplace and domestic discipline, in which Carolynn receives a loving if not-so-gentle into the world of corporal punishment.   Her changing relationship with her boss is fascinating on its own, but the exploration of how this new dynamic impacts Carolynn’s relationship with her sisters adds another layer of complexity to the story.


From the Publisher:

Thirty-year-old Carolynn Blake is an attractive, high-flying businesswoman, but she pays a price for being over confident when the stock markets crash, leaving her in financial trouble. She turns to her friend and mentor, John Dacia, for advice. Older than she, the wealthy property developer listens to Carolynn’s surprise proposal. With his financial backing, Carolynn convinces him she will make him even richer … and part of the deal is that he gets to mix business with pleasure by spanking her hard and sending her to the corner like a naughty girl.

But Caroline has never been spanked before, and has no idea what to expect. She soon learns! Her changing relationship with John – a lifestyle dominant – takes her way out of her comfort zone. Previously independent, she now has to do as she’s told and is punished for any infractions – with hand, hairbrush and cane. Sometimes she is disciplined in his office. Carolynn is not an easy woman to tame, but John is the man to do it; he can be strict and is very much in control of himself … and her. As time passes, Carolynn gradually learns to accept his dominance over her, and her desire for him grows.

This is the story of their developing relationship, and the way control, authority and discipline shape Carolynn’s character to the extent that she falls in love for the first time…

Available from LSF Publications

Chateau Corrupto

Originally written as an assignment for a geography class- an essay on “My Favourite Place in Ireland”. Teacher, for some reason, was not impressed.


For me, the best part of Ireland, apart from the pubs, is the castles. It can be difficult to choose a favourite among the quiet isolation of Dunamaise, the imposing edifice of Blarney, the stark weight of Bunratty, the piecemeal charm of Dublin, the sheer majesty of Cashel. However, none of these quite compare to the power and perversion of Chateau Corrupto.

At first glance, it appears unassuming, largely identical to the other houses in the estate, which is itself largely identical to other estates in its quiet corner of Galway. But within the walls of Chateau Corrupto, a clandestine gathering celebrates the allure and intimacy of BDSM.

Here one finds the young and the old, natives and visitors from other enclaves, new converts to this way of being as well as the elder sages who helped define the lifestyle over the years.

Here one can sit with a mug of tea to watch a full suspension, crack open a beer to the crack of a whip, seek instruction in the varied practices and rituals on display. One may spank or be spanked, tie or be tied. One may be shocked – quite literally – at the goings-on.

Strange and mysterious things happen as the hours pass. Orientations that seemed so solid slip into something more supple. Those bespelled by this place may take on roles unimaginable elsewhere. In this space one may find the support and stamina to endure soaring heights of pain and depths of pleasure.

The celebrations continue into the wee house of the morning, discussing, playing, teaching, learning. Inflicting and enduring. Loving. And doing more of the same just after breakfast.

If you go looking for this place, be warned- like many of the most magical places on this isle, it is not easy to find. It is not marked on any maps; it reveals itself only under certain conditions, and only to certain individuals. Seekers should note that its power is strongest between the festivals of Beltane and Lughnasadh. Before attempting to enter this place, one is advised to purge one’s spirit of malice and drama, to renew one’s commitment to respect and consent, and to open one’s mind to new perversions.

With these preparations, and a bit of luck, one may experience the life-altering magic of Chateau Corrupto.


Posted with permission from Count Corrupto himself, and with thanks for all he has done to create this space.

Lost and Found

A few weeks ago, a good friend closed his spanking blog.  He did so on his own terms, and for the happiest  of personal reasons.  It was the best way, if there is a best way, to leave this virtual world. We are still in touch by email, and planning a visit soon.  Even so, I miss him more that I’d have thought possible.


His posts were a part of my morning ritual for the last several years.   His writing touched me deeply and powerfully, so much so that he was the first writer I agreed to meet in person- despite living on different continents. His was a steady, calm presence that saw me through the chaos of immigration to Ireland and to FetLife. Protected by his friendship and support, armed with his advice and guidance, I dove into the world of spanking- online and in person.  His experience and reason helped me avoid many pitfalls and his advice corrected more than a few errors as I’ve found my way here.


Our friendship remains strong, but things have changed between us. I understand, but I still grieve.


But I do not grieve alone.


That one leap of faith, that one solid friendship, led to a profusion of others.


I have found a sponsor, a man I look to for an example of how to live here. A man with whom I’ve shared spankings, drinks, and hours of nerdy talk.  A man I look to as a father figure in this country, someone supportive, understanding, level-headed, steady, and loving.


I have found a beer buddy, a conversationalist, the gentlest  of souls. A man with whom to explore coffee shops and bookshops, a man to share a chat and a pint, common interests and passions.   A man whose sense of compassion and morality inspires me to become a better person.


I have found a lovely top, a relationship stumbled into almost by accident, but one in which we have worked to establish a solid foundation. A man a laugh with, struggle with, support, rail against, hug, talk, and try again.  A man willing to learn and grow with me.


I have found a mentor, an old acquaintance remet by chance. A man who has been teaching, coaching, leading by example.  A man who does not shy from telling me when I have stepped out of line, from calling me on my failings. A man who also does not hesitate to praise when I meet his expectations. A man willing and eager to apply a cane, a hug, or both whenever needed.


I have found a former partner, a former lover, a current friend. A man I am proud to know again. `


And others, many others. I never would have imagined having such a strong network of friends- friends to join in play, friends to join for a chat and a pint, friends- some of which I didn’t even know I had- willing to help in all sorts of ways with my latest project.  Friends that remind me why I am here, why this decision was the right one.


To all of you, thank you.  

Leading and Learning: Reluctance and Discipline

From the Sarah Saga

Sarah woke in a sweat from a disjointed dream in which shadowy figures stared down menacingly, various acquaintances giving her intense looks of disappointment, and of a certain hairbrush. . .

Sarah rolled over and reached for the glass of water on the bedside locker, its contents warmed to room temperature but still providing a measure of relief.

That hairbrush. . .

It hadn’t featured yet in their encounters this weekend, though Sarah was moderately surprised by its absence. He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that it would feature heavily whenever they next had to discuss disrespect. Perhaps her recent behaviour hadn’t warranted it in his eyes, though she could tell he was less than pleased with her lack of hospitality this weekend.

She’d ticked all the boxes, cleaned her apartment, fixed his bed, made plans and went out with him, showing him a few new corners to her town- a commodity of which she was quickly running dry.

On the surface, she had been a good hostess. Brian knew better, though. He could tell when she tuned out from his stories, when her efforts at conversation were less than enthusiastic, when his subtle suggestions that she take time to rest went ignored.

Sarah bristled at the thought again. She had been incensed at the suggestion that she was allowing herself to get to busy. She was a busy person, surely Brian, as a good friend, would understand that, but clearly not.

She had reread the text- the one telling her firmly that she needed to relax and make time for herself to rest- several times before replying in her most civil tones. He was trying, after all, and she had asked for this. He was concerned, and she thanked him for that, feeling the first layer of her irrational anger peel away. The little voice inside her, the one that told her the anger was only there because what he told her was true, grew a bit louder, a bit more calmly insistent.

The last month had been draining, after all. Fun, but exhausting. In hindsight, she should have asked to postpone their meeting, to take a few days off, but she had been too excited.

Silly, she thought now as she reflected on her surly mood the night before. He could only come to visit once a month or so, and she had gone and let a bad mood sully one of their precious evenings together.

It had still been. . .fine. They’d had a pleasant walk around town, a delicious meal, and some satisfactory music in her local pub. They’d not had the sort of carefree, relaxed conversation they had enjoyed previously, however. And he had talked. So. Much. Sarah cringed back from the thought. She knew Brian was talkative, that was part of the reason they were friends. He could carry on a conversation just fine until she was ready to chime in, filling the silence comfortably and pleasantly. Sarah loved him for it, so why did this particular habit of his grate on her nerves last night?

Worse still were the spankings. He had tried three times, and though Sarah had joined enthusiastically at the beginning of each one, she found herself rebelling against the experience. The sting, instead of bringing her into a pleasant submission, drover her to a deeper, gruntier, surliness.

He offered her a hug after the third attempt, and, for the first time, Sarah resisted that too- thinking, in some childish way, that this was an appropriate response for the man who had hurt her in the exact way she’d told him too and only failed to read her mind.

Sarah rolled over in bed at the memory. She was a moron. But she would try better. They still had a few hours together the next day, she had another chance.

She heard Brian moving about the apartment. Sarah thanked whatever deities looked after such things that they had reached the level of mutual comfort that she felt no need to join him at this hour, and rolled over into her pillows for one last snooze. This may not have been what he had in mind when he’d instructed her to rest, but it was most needed.

She woke later to the sound of the shower door closing. This time she needed to get up, to face him. By the time she’d come to terms with that decision and poked her head out of her bedroom, she saw that Brian had dried, dressed, and perched on her sofa with a mug of tea. She mumbled some sort of greeting in his direction and shuffled off the the bathroom cringing- her efforts to be pleasant were not off to a good start. Then again, she reminded herself gently, her behaviour early in the morning should be judged by a different set of metrics. She’d not yet let herself down.

Teeth brushed and day-clothes on, she walked to the sitting room to greet him properly.

He was in as cheery a mood as ever- how did he do that?- and gave her a broad grin and a half hug as she settled next to him. He heartily agreed to her suggestion of an excursion in search of a breakfast that someone else- someone more alert than Sarah at this hour- cooked.

It was as though the previous evening had never happened. They chatted amicably over breakfast, when they weren’t busy devouring the greasy but savoury fare, and headed out for coffee. Sarah apologetically insisted that she needed to work, pulling out her laptop, and Brian busied himself with his phone, remaining quieter than she’d ever heard him. They enjoyed a companionable silence over two cappuccinos each.

Second coffee finished, Brian stood. “I’d better head out soon if I’m going collect my bag and be back in time to get a seat where I can see the telly,” he told her, pocketing his phone. Sarah was torn. She had meant to accompany him, to share a few more hours together before he lect. As much as she despised soccer, she did enjoy his company, and felt bad for leaving him alone when he’d come to visit her. However, the opportunity for a couple of peaceful hours to think was too tempting to resist. Perhaps she could have both. . .

“I have a bit more to do here, but I could join you after? If you stay for dinner, we can chat then. Besides, the later bus will be less rushed-”

“Works for me, “ Brian agreed, and went cheerily off to the match. Sarah was left alone with an empty coffee mug and a churning mind. She really should have confessed, she told herself. That hairbrush had been haunting her, her dream was proof enough of that.

But Brian had said the matter was done with, had said the first punishment last month was enough. She had agreed; even if it wasn’t physically intense, the purpose had been served, she had been forgiven.

But she hadn’t really learned, she berated herself. Less than a day later she had lashed out at a co worker. Nothing major, just a few words a touch harsher than they should have been. Sarah had apologised immediately, and no lasting harm was done, but still. . .

She’d considered mentioning it to Brian last night, or even earlier. There were many deleted, unsent messages in which she talked about the incident, accepting whatever consequences it brought, but that felt too much like topping from the bottom. Too thin an excuse for a do-over of the first punishment. He had been so unsure about the first time, so gracious to give it a try, she felt guilty for pushing him again so soon.

Yet, she had pushed him, and in the most passive-aggressive way. Whether her mood was due to tiredness or not, thoughts of the punishment had doubtless weighed in to some degree. It needed to be discussed, if not acted on. At a minimum, she needed to apologise.

And she was running out of time.

Sarah closed the laptop and headed for home, pondering how best to proceed.

It ended how she always knew it would, with a written confession and apology, albeit a more rushed one than she would have liked, as she had wasted far too much of her precious time fretting- and also far too much time locating the notebook in which she had written her first assignment for Brian. She reread that essay again with a small smile, refreshed by the happy memory of a happier spanking, then dashed out her feelings over the next three pages.

Sarah placed the booklet on the sitting room table and stared at it. She felt guilty for springing this on him, he who would be skipping brightly (and probably more than a little drunkenly) to her door at any moment, in high spirits after watching the match and as far from the mindframe of disciplinarian as he would ever be. It really wasn’t fair to do this to him now, not after all the other opportunities she had passed up.

Sarah considered closing the book, hiding it under the sofa allowing him to enjoy these last few moments of Brian’s visit unencumbered by her requests for a spanking more serious than his usual fare.

She heard him walking through the courtyard. Now or never. . . .

This needed to happen, the apology if nothing else. It was his decision, after all, and it was her duty to abide by his judgement. She owed it to him to at least be open about this, after everything else she had failed to do this weekend. She cast one last look at the notebook with her scrawled apology, and reached into his bag and retrieved the hairbrush- the harsh one, the one that haunted her- and laid it beside the book. Hopefully he wouldn’t think her too forward for the suggestion.

Brian bumbled through the door, chatting away as ever, now about the schoolteacher he’d bonded with at the pub over the course of the match. His story stopped mid-sentence as he saw the notebook and hairbrush, instantly grasping their significance, though struggling to redirect his frame of mind.

Sarah cringed inwardly at herself for dampening his mood, for imposing the role of disciplinarian on him at this inopportune time. Not only was this a poor way to spend their last moments together on this trip, but it was cruel to bring up this new aspect of their relationship when he’d been in such high spirits from his time at the pub watching the match.

“I wrote that while you were out,” she offered as a completely inadequate explanation, cringing outwardly at the awkwardness of the phrase and the situation. Then again, that’s what the writing was for- she knew better than to think she could talk her way through something this sensitive. Brian seemed to understand this much as well, nodding as he sat down and picked up the notebook, glancing briefly at the hairbursh as he did so.

She watched as his grin vanished as he read, replaced by an expression not quite stern but certainly more troubled. He started to reply several times before saying, “I have to go to the loo, let’s talk about this afterwards? And I mean talk, not, you know. . .”

“With words,” Sarah replied, indicating her agreement.

He didn’t keep her waiting long. He settled himself across from her, looking at the book briefly before beginning. “When I said I was concerned about you, when I wanted you to make sure that you take time to rest, I meant it. I wasn’t just looking for an excuse to spank. You give me plenty of that already.”

“I know,” Sarah replied, returning his half smile, “and I appreciate it, I really do, which is why I had to write that. Why I feel so bad about last night.”

“Last night was nothing, I am always happy to come see you, always grateful for your company, whatever mood you’re in. Sure, I noticed that you weren’t yourself, but it was still a good night, still enjoyable.”

Sarah smiled and waited, hoping this would somehow be ok, that Brian would accept her ill-timed confession the same way he had accepted her semi-surly mood.

“I’ll give you a spanking,” Brian continued, his voice becoming a little more stern. “And it will be a serious one, but won’t- it will be a reminder. A reminder to take care of yourself.”

“Yes, Sir,” Sarah replied, no longer able to return his gaze as her emotions swirled, the combination of relief that he had taken her writing to heart and fear of what was to come.

“You left this out,” he said, hefting the hairbrush. “You feel you deserve this?”

Sarah only nodded.

“Alright. You’ll be getting a few with this then. But I’ll start with my hand, and over your jeans.”

Sarah nodded again at the small mercy. Clothing helped ease the sting, but Brian was capable of delivering a memorable enough spanking with his bare hand over anything short of a snowsuit.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

Sarah complied, and draped herself wordlessly over his lap after he had settled in his usual spanking seat in the middle of the sofa. She grasped the throw pillows at the end of the sofa; she would need the support. “I care about you,” Brian began, his voice becoming sterner as he continued. “I consider you a friend, but I won’t hesitate to punish you when you need it.” He punctuated his words with the first of many spanks, a hard, bone-deep one that ached even over her jeans. “You’re a funny girl. You can go from pleasant to prickly in a blink of an eye.” Sarah tried to lay still as he increased the frequency of his spanks, trying her hardest not to kick, to take this well, to let the lesson truly sink in. She deserved this. “Everyone has moods. Not everyone acts on them like you do.” Brian was quiet for a while after this, devoting his energy fully to the spanking for several moments before pausing to say, “Let’s get these down.” He tugged at the waistband of her jeans, and Sarah tried to shift herself to allow him to pull them down- as awkward a process as ever, and one that provided a much-needed if brief distraction for the serious mood of the punishment.

The next few swats brought her mind right back as the sting built more quickly. Sarah hugged into the throw pillows more tightly. She felt her body being thrust forward at each smack, smacks through which Sarah could feel Brian’s intention to give her the punishment she had requested, the punishment she deserved. Though not as painful as some of their more playful spankings, it was that intention that helped Sarah perceive this as true punishment.

Her panties came down shortly thereafter, though these did so with less resistance and less impact; the sting had already built to the point that it mattered little to Sarah.

“Up,” Brian ordered simply, then asked, “You have the board?”

Sarah nodded and winced at the memory of the evil, plastic, spiky board he had made her sit on for a particularly painful corner time.

“You know where it goes,” he told her, motioning for her to get on with it.

Sarah retrieved the board, set it on a kitchen chair, lowered herself gingerly, and waited for the torture to begin. The first few minutes weren’t terrible, particularly in comparison to the last swats of a punishment spanking, but the pain built exponentially. Soon Sarah was struggling to restrain tears, and still had the benefit of her arms to hold some of her weight.

“Hands on your head,” Brian ordered. Sarah complied, with a touch of relief that the order meant the torture was likely halfway over, but with far more anxiety for the rapidly increasing pain as the sharpish edges dug into her more fiercely. She chanced one pitiful glance up at him, and saw him watching her attentively but dispassionately, intent on ensuring that her discipline was appropriate and as severe as was warranted. Sarah quickly closed her eyes again, focusing on the pain and why this was necessary, vowing that she would be more mindful of her attitude.

“Come over here,” Brian told her after an age. “Bring the brush.”

Sarah picked up the brush, remarking inwardly, sorrowfully, how solid it felt, and passed it to her disciplinarian. It was deserved. She laid over his lap without being asked, and waited for it to begin.

“I haven’t decided how many of these you’ll be getting yet. We’ll see how it goes.” Sarah hugged the pillows tighter- it was only fair. This was still new territory. She knew, no matter how many he gave, that they would hurt terribly.

The first swat met her expectations. Sarah grunted in response. It was bearable, but just barely. Sarah worried that she wouldn’t be able to take this, but, then again, that was what she wanted, what she had asked for, what she needed. She laid as still as possible as the pain built, stroke after stroke, allowing only a soft whimper, a small kick, to escape her control, tried to focus on the pain, on why this was happening to her, on why it shouldn’t need to. On how she should behave, on how she would be more mindful of herself and her friends.

“Twelve more,” Brian told her, his voice still stern, but she could hear the caring creep back in. It was almost over, just a bit more. Sarah held on tightly, crying out slightly at each swat, anticipating the ending of the ordeal, the ordeal which had been more difficult than the last but still not the monster of the punishment that had haunted her.

“It is over,” Brian told her softly, tossing the brush aside with a clatter before running his hands over her comfortingly.

Now, that it had stopped, Sarah allowed herself to cry the tears the punishment hadn’t quite forced out of her. That wasn’t the point, the point was that she had been allowed this experience, brought to a space in which this sort of repentance was possible.

“Are you ok?” he asked her several times. Sarah nodded in response but stayed in place over his lap, letting a few more sobs loose and enjoying the comfort of his hands as the rubbed her hair, her back, her bottom. When the sobs finally stopped for good, she allowed him to lift her, pulled up her clothing, and settled back into his arms.

“Thank you, she breathed into his shoulder as she allowed herself to be comforted by his hug.

She lost track of how long they stayed like that, until her thirst got the better of her and she reached for the glass of water she’d left on the table. While up, she checked the time quickly and winced.

“Nearly five- we should head out soon if you wanted to go to Jack’s for dinner.

Brian grinned at the memory of the place Sarah had taken him to eat on his very first visit to her. “I’d love to,” he agreed. Sarah grinned back, and after a few moments gathering shoes and coats and lost phones, the were off to dinner and more pleasant talk.

Side Project

Crest Final

I’ve fallen behind on posting here, though for once I have a good (and pertinent) reason.

I’m not quite sure how I fell into this particular project. I thought, when things started, that I had merely agreed to meet a few friends to do a small school role play on a Saturday afternoon.  If it went well, we might do it again- perhaps even regularly.  How that concept evolved into a formalised nation-wide consortium of sorts is something of a mystery, but that’s how CLASS Ireland came about.

The last few months have been busy, stressful, and also great fun.  Though we’ve only held a few small events so far, I’ve learned loads about the management of spanking and fetish events.  I’ve also been astonished and humbled at the willingness of other event organisers around Ireland and elsewhere to offer advice and assistance.   I’d admired event organisers before, but now that I have a better idea of the effort and complexities involved I’m even more impressed with their work- these truly are remarkable people.

I’ve also been very impressed at the people who have stepped up to be directly involved in getting this new group started.  It’s been a lovely experience getting to know them better, and I couldn’t have asked for a better team.

We’re currently planning our first munch in Dublin in about two weeks, as well as getting numerous details sorted for various play events in various stages of planning.

Of course, one impact of all this is that I’ve done virtually no personal writing in the last few months. While I doubt I’ll be able to get back on anything like my old posting schedule in the near future, I do hope to restore a bit of balance.

In the meantime, thank you for your patience!

Book of the Month: Disciplinary Tales 3

Screenshot 2016-09-02 at 21.12.46
I’ve been sorely missing DJ Black ever since Voice in the Corner went dark a few months back.  I was therefore thrilled to see that LSF have just released another collection of DJ’s stories in Disciplinary Tales Issue 3.  I enjoyed the chance to get reacquainted with some of his earlier stories.
From the publisher: 
This issue of Disciplinary Tales features the following stories:

The Schoolhouse on the Prairie: When twice-widowed Louise Stepford hears that her daughter has been spanked by teacher, Jonathon Redmond, she is incensed and heads straight for the school. Seeing her daughter’s reddened bare bottom on display she flies into a temper, slapping Mr Redmond across the face. Moments later, though, she finds herself over his knee getting the same treatment as her daughter. She is even more surprised when Mr Redmond asks to spend the following Sunday with her…

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous: 18-year-old Susie is in big trouble when she is caught sneaking home in the early hours. Her father promises her a spanking the following morning and the next day her bare bottom is soundly slippered. Things go from bad to worse when her punishment continues in front of her friends, and it seems one of them has posted a video of her spanking to YouTube. Or could it all be a dream?

The Unspankable in Pursuit Of the Unseatable: Roberta is out for a ride on her horse when she encounters John, a no-nonsense man who threatens to spank her when she sasses him. After striking him with her riding crop he takes her over his lap for a good hard spanking, which it appears is exactly what she wanted all along.

Personal Trainer: Kate’s personal trainer is not at all happy with the effort she’s been making and has her perform exercises in public, naked from the waist down. He then makes her run home similarly attired. Once back in her house she is spanked at the foot of the stairs.

The Special Section: It’s the time of the Second World War and discipline in the Women’s Royal Naval Service is tough. Not only are the Wrens disciplined by their male officers but by the women officers as well. But women officers too, especially those who make as many mistakes as Marion, soon find themselves lining up with the others for a jolly good spanking.

Over the Moon: Carly had been caught halfway up the cliff by her husband, David, where she’d been looking for gulls’ nests. Dragged back to their cottage, she is pulled over David’s knee and spanked to tears before being made to stand in the corner. Later, however, she hands her husband the cane…

Spanked Public Schoolgirl: The two girls meet on their first day at college but it soon becomes apparent that Camilla is the one in charge. When her friend struggles and starts to get bad grades, Camilla threatens her with a spanking and it’s not long before she’s spanking her on a regular basis. However, it turns out that Camilla is also spanked at home by her father.

Available from LSF