Poppa Mark

& DSH Productions

I am what some people refer to as a Top, a man who spanks or punishes women who want it or feel they deserve it. Now any guy can take a woman and spank the hell out of her but I like to take some time and get to know these ladies beforehand. Generally we correspond for some time before we even meet. I personally get much more out of a relationship when I have a pretty good idea what the lady in questions want, expects, and needs.

Many times what she thinks she wants and expects isn’t what she really needs or desires. The time taken to get to know her beforehand is what makes the session rewarding for both parties. It certainly helps make that all-important first meeting go much smoother. Still sometimes life throws you a curve ball.

Such is the case with Brenda and me. To set the scene she told me about her childhood spanking experiences. The first part of this story is what she sent to me as we got to know each other online.

We had corresponded for quite some time prior to out first fateful meeting. She told me of her childhood and admitted she had been spanked fairly often well into her late teens. Her Mother was quick tempered and often would spank her with a large wooden spatula her grandmother had used in her old butter churn. Spankings usually started by hand but almost always finished with the spatula or hairbrush.

Brenda wrote to me…

She’d grab me and drag me over her knee, yank up my dress and pull down my panties when I was younger and then she’d warm up with her hand before using that damn spatula. When I got older and was too big for her to handle and started wearing jeans all the time, she’d make me pull my jeans and sometimes me panties but sometimes she’d wait to pull them down after I was over her lap.

Mom was a little woman barely 5’ tall and skinny. When I was 11 I was already taller than her and I grew real fast when puberty hit. By 13 I was 5’8”, out-weighed her by 25lbs. and had already filled out so Mom couldn’t hold me on her lap when I squirmed and believe me when that spatula or hairbrush hit me I wiggled.

So from then on my spankings fell to my Step Dad who I called Poppy. Mom would always spank me right on the spot, no waiting just a screaming tirade before and during. She was a nervous, hyper woman who was always yelling at me about something. But at least I never had to wait for it.

Poppy married my Mom when I was 5 years old. He was 18 years older than my Mom and the only person who could seem to calm her down. A tall man, he was the polar opposite of mother in that he was always calm and deliberate and had a very deep voice that he seldom raised. Now he had sometimes spanked me when I deserved it when I was younger but as I got bigger he always carried out the spankings. Mom would tell him that she wanted him to punish me and he would call me into the room and the 3 of us would discuss it. Only once did he go against Mom’s wishes but he would listen to my side as well.

He wouldn’t let Mom yell at me during these discussions either. I hated these times because talking about why I was being punished and when it would happen almost always had me in tears. It was almost as bad as what followed.

I retrospect I realize I deserved most, if not all my spankings because I was very mouthy, stubborn and impetuous at that age. When he would calmly tell me why he thought I deserved to be spanked and when he was going to do it I almost always began to cry, it seemed very cruel at the time.

Usually he spanked me at bedtime after my bath when I had my pajamas on. So sometimes I’d have to wait all day for it. Occasionally I was sent to wait in my room but usually after our meeting I’d have to do chores and my homework. Life would go on normally except that I’d be watching the clock waiting to meet my doom. After I was told I was to be punished it was not mentioned again until the appointed time. I did a lot of thinking during that wait let me tell you!

That ended her e-mail on that subject. When I tried to find out more she was evasive. I realized this was a very personal part of her past; and so although I would occasionally ask her about the punishments when we chatted online, I didn’t push it. We had not yet met at that point and she wouldn’t even send me a picture! I began to feel that she thought of herself as unattractive and I tried my best to encourage her but things take time and trust needs to be nurtured.

When we finally set up a time and place to meet it was several weeks in advance. By this time we chatted almost every day. With more specific questions, I again asked her how her Step Father punished her.

One night, I was surprised by the description in my e-mail. She always wrote very descriptively so that her e-mails read like stories. I think she shared this private part of her past in an effort to understand why she felt as she did and what she wanted from our getting together.

She wrote…

When Poppy told me he was going to spank me there was always a waiting period before I was punished. He wouldn’t let Mother nag me about it and to be honest she was usually pretty quiet before he spanked me. That was pretty spooky as well because she was normally always griping at me about something. After my chores were done, supper finished, and dishes washed I’d be sent to my room if I had homework to do. If it was the weekend or vacation time the unspoken rule was I stayed inside until bedtime. Usually I stayed in my room because I was already nervous and being around them, and especially him, made it worse.

My Mother would come up before and send me off to take my bath when I was younger but as I got older I’d just do it because I knew there was no putting off the inevitable. To be honest, the bath calmed me down while the clock ticked those fateful minutes away.

He always spanked me over my panties after puberty hit except for two times when I was in real bad trouble. So after I got out of the tub I put on a short nightshirt and my panties and went to my room. It took all my courage to call down to him saying I was ready.

When I was younger I would already start to cry when I did this, but as I got older I would wait dry eyed and trembling like a martyred woman sentenced to the gallows. No matter how bad I felt about what I had done to deserve it, I always felt sorry for myself at that point.

The creaking of the stairs made my stomach do flips as he walked up them. He was never angry when he punished me; he usually looked a little sad but determined.

Poppy never took me over his knee to punish me. He always had me bend over the end of the bed or occasionally over the chair from my vanity. The ritual was almost always the same. He’d point to the two pillows I’d put by the wooden footboard of my bed and he would take a folded quilt from the hall closet that he’d gotten on the way up. He would then cover the pillows and wooden top of the footboard with the quilt. Then I knew it was almost time. My mouth would go dry but my eyes would be wet.”

“You know why you’re being punished?” He would ask. Usually I’d just nod because I didn’t trust myself to speak. Besides, at our meetings the why part was already made clear. What I didn’t know was how much, how hard or what he would use. With Mom I’d fight and argue through the whole spanking but for some reason with Poppy I knew better and simply got in position and waited for it.

Sometimes he’d tell me to get over the end of the bed or he’d just point. I knew exactly what he wanted me to do at that point and so feeling something between fearful anticipation, sorrowful regret and relief, I’d lower myself over the cushion of pillows and quilt.

I was 5’10” by the time I was 14 and my bed wasn’t very high so this placed me almost horizontal with my feet and legs lowered to the floor and my hips and ass pushed up as the highest point. If I were wearing pajama pants he’d have me pull them down first but with a nightshirt I’d lift it when I lay down. He made me clasp my hands behind my head and his hand would be on my back while he spanked me. Sometimes he’d warm me up with some hand spanking but then he’d use the paddle he’d made for me, or his belt. When it was over I had to stay in position with my hands locked behind my head. I never knew if he was watching or not and after the first time I got out of position and he caught me and peppered my ass again until I learned to stay put.

Mom would come up after a short while and put me to bed. She was always comforting after I was punished and these are some of my favorite memories of her.

I overheard Poppy tell Mom once that the reason he let me keep my panties up was that he felt as my Stepfather it wasn’t proper for him to bare my bottom unless another woman was present and if he ever did bare it, I’d know I’d really screwed up. While Mom always spanked me bare bottomed, Poppy only did two times while I was a teenager. I remember both times very well along with the reasons I got it.

Now that I’m older it’s those memories that seem to drive this need that I now feel. Back then my life was orderly, structured, and clearly defined. There were set rules I lived by and punishments if I violated those rules. There was also lots of love and security. If I screwed up or disobeyed I always felt really guilty afterwards, but after I was punished and then forgiven I could let the guilt go and felt better.

Now that I’m older and just as stubborn as I ever was I can’t seem to let these guilt feeling go. I keep making the same mistakes over and over…bounced checks, cigarettes, late payments and not taking care of myself like I should.

I keep thinking of Poppy’s belt and how he would never let me get away with this. I miss the hugs and forgiveness I was given after and how much better I felt when it was over. Poppy always came back up to give me a hug and a kiss after I went to bed. Even though it hurt and was embarrassing I knew I was forgiven and loved when he and Mom did that.”

Now I knew what Brenda needed. I was to play the role of her Poppy. We set a time and place to meet and the wheels were set in motion. Our meeting was to be full of surprises.

Poppa Mark &

DSH Productions