Shelly Douglas
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

If we are still married to each other on January 6, 2014, my husband Michael and I will celebrate our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. We are as different as night and day, sweet and sour, chocolate and vanilla … you get the idea. My co-author Doug, who is not a religious man, says he wakes up every morning and prays that my husband will spank me. There was a time when I actually thought that was funny.

It was Christmas 1978, about two weeks before we were married. Back then I wasn’t interested in material things (that happened much later in our marriage), but the one thing I remembered clearly, was hoping to be taken over my future husband’s knee for a good old fashioned spanking. It was snowing, and we had built a fire inside. A spanking seemed so sexy and intimate. In theory, so calculated and caring. I did everything possible to provoke him and wagged my butt every chance I had. But he just wasn’t interested.

All of my Christian friends were spanked over their parent’s knee. As a five year old, I even witnessed a friend getting her bum spanked by her mother with a wooden spoon. Naturally as a “closet spanko”, this was an image that would stay with me forever. I was never spanked as a child and always blamed it on my Jewish background. (I’m sure there were some Jewish parents who were spankers, but most weren’t known for the OTK ritual.) Naturally, we all want what we can’t have. But I digress. Sorry.

You see, I was just sure that this man I married could have been a potential spanker. He came from a traditional Catholic family with five kids. Who raised five kids in the 50’s and 60’s and didn’t spank them? So you can imagine my horror, when it finally occurred to me that I had married a vanilla man. Don’t get me wrong, every once in a while he would turn me around, laugh and give my butt a good swat – but it just wasn’t the same when you dreamed about a full service over the knee bare bottom spanking. Back in those days, we weren’t so open with our needs. Let’s just say there was a lot of hoping going on. Yes, a lot of hoping for a lot of years.

Okay, you’ve all been real patient, so I’m going to cut to the chase. We managed in thirty-five years to raise two fine adult sons. While on a couple’s vacation, right before our oldest was married last year, my friend Doug and I decided to collaborate and write an erotic spanking novella. Of course, that was my idea - since I was the one who had the spanking fetish. (I figured if I wasn’t going to receive a spanking, at least I could write about people who did.) Actually, just to be clear and fair, Doug wanted to write murder mystery novels. But my idea prevailed, and you can’t imagine the flack we received when we decided to “come out” to our family and friends. (Naturally, it was his idea to go public with what we wrote about.) Yes, you’re reading this correctly – our kids, friends, siblings and even my parents (thanks to my brother) now know we had an erotic spanking novella published. At our age, Doug felt we should be proud of what we did. I just wanted to sell an extra fifty copies on Blushing Books or Amazon to help our numbers. 

Needless to say, no one in my circle of friends or relatives had ever heard of domestic discipline. So, please take a moment of silence to imagine how awkward each conversation was. Well, it wasn’t really a conversation. Every time I spoke, a jaw dropped. And just so you know, we live in Western Pennsylvania - not on the moon.

This would probably be a good time to mention that I did plenty of homework on the subject of DD in order to write about it. I felt I needed to educate myself in some of the rules, not just for the sake of accuracy, but also to be respectful of those who practice the lifestyle. Of course, I had a million questions and no one to ask. There was only one place I could safely go for information and that was the internet. I read everything I could get my hands on – stories, blogs, interviews, websites, you name it and I probably searched for it. But my favorite pastime was reading spanking fiction.

I’m sure you’re all waiting for me to get caught with my pants down, so here’s the dramatic ending. I originally owned the only Kindle in our home, which Michael bought for me as a Mother’s Day present. But after loading it with DD stories, I decided to keep it out of his reach. He didn’t need to know what I was reading, and many of the titles were just too “descriptive”. Not to mention the little detail of how much I had spent on my research. As someone who always respected my privacy (I actually told him that I didn’t want to share my Kindle with him), he decided to go out and buy his own. Things were going swimmingly for a few months. Just when I thought I was out of the woods, he remembered a book that he purchased on my Kindle when it was new and wanted to read it. He said that we could “share” on our Kindles and wanted to start the process of downloading his book. Naturally before he did that, he would have to read through twenty pages in order to find his one “Game of Thrones” book - which was sadly on the last page. I knew that day would eventually come, but what were the odds I would be in the room for the “downloading session?” I’ve never been a lucky person. And you can’t imagine the expression on his face as he clicked from one page to another. He stared in amazement as he read each and every startling title. Just in case you haven’t done the math, there were two hundred spanking books on my Kindle. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Here’s how the conversation went as he gently put my Kindle on the coffee table, sat down, crossed his arms and smiled.

“What have you been reading, Shell?”
“I told you I needed to do homework.”
“Was it really necessary to read two hundred spanking books in order to write one? How many has Doug read?”
“Two, I think.”
“How much has this little hobby cost us?”
“Before I figured out that we didn’t need to pay an editor?”
He nodded.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“So, let’s recap. You purchased two hundred spanking books so that you could write a one hundred page novella.”
I gulped. “And a sequel."
“Have you been paid yet by the publisher for your first novella that sold for $3.99 which you still need to split with Doug?”
“We received an advance.”
“To pay the editor you didn’t need.”
I nodded.  
“Do you know how many books you’ve sold?”
 I shook my head.
“But you quit your job at the high-end boutique you worked in for the last eight years so you could write spanking novels full time.”
I nodded.
He rolled up his sleeves, patted his lap and looked me in the eye.
"Take your pants and panties down right now, young lady."  

​(Let the record show, that I finally hit a nerve in the winter of 2013.)