Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Out of Order



Ron and I had quite a merry spanking session last Saturday. He had chosen four implements—a long black strap, a rattan carpet beater, a short brown leather paddle, and a black and red ping pong paddle—and arranged them on the bed for my inspection. A shiver ran down my spine when I realized what was in store.

I obediently removed my jeans and panties and got into position. Ron's usual habit was to give me several swats with each of the four implements in turn, and so he began. The leather strap seemed especially fierce that day, but the carpet beater was even worse. My attempt to dodge a swat only rewarded me with a whack on my calves and another on my thighs. The short leather paddle came as something of a relief and seemed almost gentle in comparison. The ping pong paddle too was not so bad, or maybe it only seemed that way because my bottom was warming up.

Ron cycled through the implements again, as he usually did. But as the spanking continued,  he often applied a few whacks with something that was not officially next.

"Out of order!" I cried.

"I just wanted to see if you were paying attention," Ron replied.

A few minuted later, it happened again. I got the carpet beater when it was actually the short leather paddle's turn.

"Out of order," I exclaimed again. "What's the matter? Are you getting bored?" Ron chuckled. "Maybe I should put labels on them. 1, 2, 3..."

Ron had a better idea. "No, A, B, C, D. Let's see... Ass, Bum, Caboose, Derrière. That sounds about right."

We both roared with laughter at his cleverness, and the spanking progressed in a very upbeat manner.

From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

From the Top Shelf - The Fortunes of War, part 2

Today I will share with you the conclusion of The Fortunes of War by Samuel Lovell. Mascara alert - you'll need to have a tissue handy. If you haven't read part 1, or want to refresh your memory, read it here.

Once back on the ground my thoughts soon returned to Margot for I was becoming besotted with her and I wanted to coerce her into another spanking. My mind wrestled with various approaches and excuses which ranged from the direct to the ridiculous, but in the end it was Margot who once again led the way, and the path was a familiar one.

"I do not know...it is too hard...I cannot be bothered," I recited angrily, though inside my heart was leaping, as I read the answers to her written work. "What kind of answers are these?"

"They are bad answers, Sir. I am naughty girl. You must whip me many strokes, Sir," my pupil whispered in that so alluring accent. "I admit that I do bad to annoy you," she continued while rising to her feet, "so you whip me hard, like ma mere, and make me cry plenty."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, my curiosity roused.

Margot went slowly to the chest of drawers her mother had pointed to on that first evening, and withdrew a wooden handled martinet.

"You use this," she said softly, "and I go across the table."

"Very well," I agreed before adding, in an attempt to regain the mantle of authority, "but take off your skirt and knickers completely first."

Margot obeyed, neatly folding these articles of clothing and placing them upon the seat of a chair. She showed no sign of embarrassment at her nakedness or for that matter trepidation at the agonising fate that waited. Moments later she approached one end of the table, bent forward into position, stretched her arms out at right angles and took a grip of the edges. Unlike her mother, my pupil possessed remarkably long legs and she kept them straight, thus compelling her buttocks to jut out with evocative ease. The thick dark socks that reached up to her knees were hardly haute couture, but they complemented their owner's slim muscular calves to perfection. I allowed my retinas to bathe in this glorious sight absorbing every breathtaking inch until I could stand no more.

Being a novice with this particular Gallic instrument of chastisement I will admit that my initial efforts were rather tame affairs. Margot sensibly refrained from giggling on this occasion knowing all too well that once I mastered my swing she was going to suffer enough. With a little practice I quickly mastered the necessary technique and set about my task with added verve. Her anguished squeals were soon echoing off the high open beamed ceiling and she found it impossible to keep her legs so modestly pressed together. I noticed the whippy tails curled around the flesh, connecting harshly with her right hip and I paused to examine the patchwork of livid red weals now adorning that region. Margot burst into fresh wails of tears when she realised that this respite was only a temporary one, yet her knuckles whitened and her body tensed in anticipation of the next blow.

I am at a loss as to how many strokes I saw fit to bestow across her beautiful moons. The sheer burning heat of the moment and the passage of so many years has left my memory strangely fragmented. I can see her scarlet rump rolling from side to side and I can hear her yelps of pain, but I cannot place them in any sort of chronological order. Nor would I wish to, for surely that would ruin the vivid images which still dance merrily through my mind bringing a bitter sweet comfort. From this fervent haze my first recollection is taking Margot into my arms and drying her tears with a handkerchief. Then, as before, everything returned to normal and we had a very pleasant lesson indeed though Margot repeatedly squirmed in discomfort.

Our affair, if such is the word, continued to develop in this way as the weeks blended into months. I increasingly favoured the martinet, yet still found good use for my hand and her shoe. More decisively, I no longer waited for Margot to take the lead and, in truth, devised new rules with the express purpose of entrapment. She rose to the challenge enduring a sustained barrage of spankings and whippings.

Inevitably our bliss was interrupted by the machinations of Mr. Hitler and, at the beginning of May, my squadron was warned that soon all leave would be cancelled. I travelled to the Brouzet household with a heavy heart that afternoon, knowing it would be my last visit for some time. The strain must have shown on my face because Margot recognised it immediately.

"You are leaving soon," she whispered as we stood in the hallway.

"Yes," I replied barely able to look into her sad brown eyes.

"Come," she said, "there will be no lesson today."

I followed my enchanting princess through the kitchen and up a narrow flight of stairs. Then we entered into an expansive bedroom. The sun's warm rays streamed through the window gleaming off the white walls and spotless hardwood floor. Margot made her way past the large iron framed bed to an elegant oak wardrobe from which she brought forth a long wispy birch rod.

"La verge!" she said distantly while presenting me with this carefully bound bundle of twigs. "I cut it for you this morning and I was full of joy. Now I am miserable because you are leaving and I love you so much."

"Don't worry, my darling," I said in that chirpy, stiff upper lip style that we English tend to adopt in the face of emotional turmoil. "We'll have these Nazis finished off by Christmas and I'll be driving my motorcycle up your lane not a month later."

"Yes and I will be waiting," she said sorrowfully.

"That's the spirit," I replied, though the words left a bitter taste.

"You are a very good man," Margot replied, a few stray tears trickling down her cheeks. "You could have made love to me much earlier, but you waited until I was ready and now I am."

"Don't cry, my love, I'm not so terrible, am I?" I tried to joke.

"Of course not," she smiled, "you are a sweet man but sometimes my bottom argues with me about that."

Then, methodically, she began to remove her clothing until she stood totally naked and resplendent in the bright sun. Without a word she took two pillows, placed them on the edge of the bed and bent across them. Her slender back arched exquisitely as she rested upon her elbows and I sighed with contentment as her rump rose into two heavenly peaks.

Once settled I thrashed the girl I loved with all my strength, stroke after agonising stroke. Margot screamed quite madly from the off, her legs flying as she tried to remain in control of her senses, but whenever I stopped she begged frantically for more. Fearing the skin on her buttocks was near to breaking I changed tack and lashed the tops of her legs until they too were red raw. Her near hysterical whimpering verified my belief that she was sated and I tossed 'la verge' aside.

Tearful yet impassioned, she helped me to pull off my uniform in that frenzied dash that uncontrollable desire demands. Our passionate lovemaking took up the rest of the day and when not in Aphrodite's embrace we just clung to one another as if our lives depended on it.

The war, as we all know, saw fit to last a year or four more than the Christmas I had originally anticipated and even when it finished my superiors refused to grant me the necessary leave. It was May 1946 before I returned to the Brouzet farmhouse and, from a distance, everything looked the same, but as I drew nearer the broken shutters and the bullet holes told a different story.

There was no sign of Margot or her mother and the property had been viciously looted. I made extensive enquiries throughout the area, but it seemed they had disappeared in the violent ebbs and flows created by the war. Undeterred I continued my search for over twenty years placing a thousand adverts in as many newspapers. It was no use, she had gone forever and I slowly accepted that our fleeting yet exceptional joy now existed only within my own memory. And there it stays, reminding a sad old gentleman that a truly broken heart never really mends.
I'm sorry it has such a sad ending, but such are the fortunes of war.
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, November 24, 2014

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for November 23


This week we discussed what we think about during a spanking, and here are your thoughts on the subject:

abby: It depends. If it is a fun or good girl i am relaxed and thinking i hope He keep going...until i start to feel that tingle...and then i start thinking how long can i let Him continue before i ask...or beg ...for a permission.
For a punishment, i am thinking, Enough...reminding myself not to move out of position...and then just OUCHING very loudly...void of thought, just caught up in the pain.

Annie: I think of nothing. It's absolute peace. I LOVE IT.

Welcome, Annie!

mouse: It's completely mood dependent and perhaps the reason why mouse is being spanked (fun, pleasure, punishment) Often mouse is mentally present and enjoying every moment. But when mouse asked Daddy about it, he pointed a few times when he felt mouse wasn't connected to what went on -- at least in the beginning. In fact one of those times mouse is pretty certain she was going through a mental to do list. Which is absolutely terrible to admit -- but it felt rote. But Daddy switched to the leather strap and then mouse was all there with him.

Great discussion starter though!

Baxter: Well, I am thinking of the pain of the last spank and waiting for the next one to amplify the pain. And also glad I am being spanked after a week of no spanking.

Jenn: I'm wondering how hard it will be, how long it will last, can I take it? Sometimes (early on) I'm thinking that it feels like a good massage. Sometimes I wonder if he's enjoying it. If it's a punishment, sometimes I think that I should not have broken a rule.

After the last spanking, I realized I had been feeling like I was reaching and "getting" somewhere. So I was not really thinking about that during the spanking, but the almost subconcious thoughts were there.

Sir Wendel: My first thought when I start spanking is how her beautiful little bottom turns red. After the first couple of minutes of her spanking my mind switches to making love to her afterwards. When I’m the one getting spanked I think of how sore my bottom is getting.

Roz: It does depend on the mood and reason for the spanking. Sometimes wishing it would end or sometimes wishing for more LOL. Quite often I'm focused on anticipating the next spank.

arched one: Is it brunch time already? Wow does the weeks fly by. When my wonderful wife R is about to spank me, no matter the reason for the spanking, I'm excited and want it. I get in position and can't wait for the first spank. During the spanking I've got mixed thoughts. Why do I want this, and at the same time I'm thinking yes, yes spank me more don't stop.

Prefectdt: At the start of a spanking I am usually thinking "Why did I want this to happen?" :) But after the mental chemicals start flowing, my mind starts flitting all over the place and what I am thinking about changes every few seconds.

Dr. Ken: I'm mostly occupied listening and watching her body language. Lately, when I've had the chance to play, I've been thinking how beautiful her bottom looks over my lap and how lucky I am to have her there!

Ronnie: For me it depends on my mood and what I'm being spanked for so could be excitement, wanting the spanking, not wanting it, wishing it would never end. Focusing on what P's saying.

Six of the best: The thoughts on my mind, when I use the cane on a woman's knickers down bare bottom, is the sexual and erotic excitement that brings to me. Yes, giving this woman 'six of the best' strokes upon her naked rear end, is most heavenly.

Blackbird: Only ONE thought..."When is this going to stop!"

Welcome, Blackbird!

Hermione: I start out by thinking how much each swat hurts, and wishing it were all over. Then, as I settle in and my bottom is warned up, I relax and start to think how nice it feels. A stray whack to my thighs usually gets me out of my comfortable mindset, and then my mind starts to wander. I begin to imagine I am playing one of the games on my iPad. During a spanking I can actually be mentally popping balloons, lining up three candies in a row, or making a batch of chicken wings.

Irish Lucky: Oh my goodness, my mind goes all over the place! I can start with the thing I am looking at, like oh wow this comforter needs replaced or the carpet needs cleaned. He had bare feet once and I decided his feet were unnaturally hairy and gave him a foot complex for weeks. But I can say my mind journey usually doesn't go very long and I get centered on the fact my bottom is hurting and the pain focuses me back. Then it's all about when is this EVER going to end! If he decides to lecture or ask questions it actually makes me focus in from the start (he doesn't generally do this), so thank goodness I usually get a bit of mind wandering before my brain catches up to my bottom's condition. :0)

Brunch is over for this week, but there's always another one next weekend, so I hope you will come back for another exciting discussion. Remember: if you have a suggestion for a brunch topic, please leave it a s a comment. I'm always on the lookout for new ideas.
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #47

Welcome one and all to our weekly brunch. Last night I was thinking about a topic for today, when it suddenly dawned on me that thinking would make a good topic, so here goes.

What thoughts go through your head during a spanking? Does your mind ever wander? Are there some thoughts you wish you didn't have?

Leave your response as a comment and I will publish a summary of our conversation once everyone has had a chance to speak.

You may leave an anonymous comment if you wish, although Blogger will prompt you to complete a nearly unreadable CAPTCHA. It's part of their spam prevention efforts and there is no way to avoid it. One solution is to create a Blogger profile of your own. You may use a fictitious name if you wish, and make the profile private so no one can see it.


From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, November 22, 2014

You Completed the Caption

You were positively inspired by this week's photo. Here are your captions:

Dr. Ken: Knowing that she learned best from being spanked, Tom prepared to teach Marlene how to program the VCR....

Arched one: What am I looking for down here and why does my bottom have to be bare and why do you have a belt in your hand?

Anon1: Stay just like that sweetie, I have a surprise for you!

Clara: Maybe if I start the movie he'll forget why I'm laying here. I know, put the remote in his hand!

Leigh: No doubt strategically placed by SO, and he has control of the remote so she has no choice but to acquiese if she want to watch a movie.

GaryNTboy: Samantha was thinking, 'favourite little baby girl my ass! If I don't retrieve my engagement ring from this damn machine, my ass is gonna be toast!'

Michael M: Where the hell is that workout video?

King Marshal: "Good! The paddle did fit in there!

Ronnie: I don't know why Tom wanted me to remove my trousers before I changed the DVD.

Anon2: Get one of these for your living room and promise you, you will never ever be distracted by the clock blinking on your VCR.

Kingspan: At the last minute, Karen worried that she'd gone one step too far with the brat act, but there was no way to get the peanut butter sandwich back out of the VCR.

Baxter: Dammit, how do I get that DVD out of this $%^***&^ thing? My boyfriend cannot see it or he will see his best friend spanking me and you know what else? He will fry my ass if he sees it.

A. Lurker: "Emily, I warned you what would happen if you ever stuffed your peanut butter sandwich in the VCR again!"
(Thought of this caption before I looked at the comments - sorry Kingspan)

Hermione: Clara could always count on the VCR clock flashing 12:00 and Ted's OCD to get her out of a spanking by telling him she would fix it.


Please join us for brunch, coming up next.
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, November 21, 2014

Friday FAIL

Many of us spend most of our waking hours in office cubes, slaving away over a hot keyboard.





Working at a help desk can be so frustrating at times.





Why can't I speak to a person when I place a call for help?





But the customer is always right—right?





Damned if I know.





Sometimes it all becomes too much, like it did for this employee. Quit like a boss!


Have a wonderful weekend, but before you clock out, kindly Complete the Caption.
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Complete the Caption

Is there something wrong with the Blu-Ray player, DVD recorder or VCR? Or is this an experimental position for a spanking? I'll let you be the judge.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your recommendations in an upcoming post.
From Hermione's Heart