Tuesday, May 23, 2017

From the Top Shelf - A Master of Discipline, part 18

Last week, Ruth pondered the after effects of her severe punishment and wondered if she would ever escape the clutches of the evil Robin. She has convinced Robin's girlfriend Nicky to call Stephen, but will help arrive before she undergoes yet another humiliating chastisement?

Half-walking, half-dragged, Ruth followed Kim out of the room, thankful that there was no one else to see her nakedness as she was ushered along the landing and down the stairs. Arriving at the hall, Kim opened the door with one hand, keeping a tight hold on Ruth with the other. Entering the room, she was surprised and frightened to find that only Kim's brother, Luc, was present. The idea of being left to the mercies of these two implacable stewards was beyond Ruth's wildest nightmares. Surely, she thought, Robin can't have tired of the idea of revenge so soon? He can't have left and maybe taken Nicky with him, before she had chance to get help? She recognised the bitter irony; she now regarded the prospect of a further thrashing from Robin as being, in a strange twist, a safeguard against even worse treatment from the Karabengses.

Luc was smiling evilly as his brother half-dragged Ruth towards the antique pillory which she had spotted on her first visit to the priory. He had already lifted the top plank out of its slot, and Ruth tried to hold back as she realised that they intended that she be locked into this ancient device. She might as well have tried to resist the tide coming in. Kim dragged her towards the old timber frame and Luc grabbed her free hand. Together, the two men forced her into the slightly stooped position which the height of the pillory required her to adopt. Kim held one of her wrists in position and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, forcing her head down, while Luc slammed her other wrist into the corresponding hole in the cross beam. With a thud, the heavy timber of the yoke slammed into position, and the two pins which held it were swiftly inserted. Ruth felt a terrific wave of claustrophobia wash over her. The slots in the yoke of the pillory were lined with a soft leather band so that the coarse-grained wood did not actually chafe her skin, but the feeling of utter helplessness was totally overwhelming.

She felt strong hands grasping her legs and almost choked as she stumbled, forcing her body weight to come on to her neck, held firmly in the yoke of the pillory. Taking a leg each, Kim and Luc yanked her ankles forward, simultaneously spreading her legs wide. She immediately felt stout leather straps being buckled to her ankles to retain them in place. With her head restrained about six inches lower than was natural, Ruth's back was arched, her bottom thrust out in a most vulnerable and uncomfortable position.

"Ah, I see my brothers have been taking care of you." Madam Karabengse's voice came from somewhere to Ruth's right, and she craned her head to try and see where the woman was standing.

"Why am I being held like this? What are you going to do to me?" If Ruth's voice betrayed alarm, it was still understating her true feelings. Never, in her entire life, had she experienced the mixture of emotions which were running through her at this moment. She was utterly vulnerable, and the awareness that she was literally wide open to both physical and sexual assault both horrified and tantalised her.

* * *

Stephen had been thinking about bed when the telephone rang. It was very late - almost midnight, in fact - but, living alone with no one else to consider, that did not bother him. What was bothering him, the reason why he had sat up for so long, were the recurring images of the events at Damocles Priory. He might have been less troubled had he realised that he was not the only one to be affected by the Reverend Mould's unconventional course. However, he had not been as fortunate as Ruth in having a stable home relationship and enough job satisfaction at work to distract him, and so had steadily become more and more introverted and self-doubting since leaving the priory.

Superintendent Mathews had thought that he was encouraging Stephen by making lewd remarks about the sights that he must have witnessed at Damocles.

"I do hope that, now you've thrashed a few bare arses yourself, you won't be so soft with some of the young thugs we have to deal with." He dug Stephen in the ribs. "Were there any nice young fillies there? To tell you the truth, young Langton, I think perhaps I might have been a bit quick in my judgment the other week. That young niece of mine, Sally, has been getting a bit big for her boots just lately. I know you two have been eyeing each other up over the last few months. No it's no use denying it." He dug Stephen in the ribs again, his air of false 'we're all boys together' making Stephen's stomach churn. "All I was going to say was, well, if one night you cared to find a quiet spot while you're out in the patrol car, and you wanted to practise what you were taught at Damocles by putting that young lady across your knee, I for one wouldn't blame you. I don't reckon you'd get too many objections from her either, provided you went about it the right way and made it up to her afterwards, if you know what I mean." The stage wink which he gave Stephen was so contrived that Stephen had to look away to conceal his disgust.

"I'll think about that, sir, I really will." It was no less than the truth; he would think about it, but he could hardly reveal his real thoughts to the older man. Although he couldn't really make up his mind, the fact of the matter was that Stephen had found that being caned by Ruth was every bit as much of a turn-on as his use of the birch on her gloriously spread bottom-cheeks. He had not realised what was happening, at first, but the longer he thought about it, the easier it was for him to reconcile his feelings .

All this, and more, had been churning through his brain, over and over again, when the jangle of the telephone startled him and he jerked back to reality.

"Langton," he mumbled into the handset.

"Is that...Mr. Langton?" It was a girl's voice, unfamiliar. She sounded young and agitated.

"Yes, Stephen Langton speaking."

"Mr. Langton, you don't know me, but my name is Nicky. I'm phoning about my teacher, Miss Jamieson."

"Ruth? Ruth Jamieson?" Steohen suddenly snapped into alert mode, his heart rate rising.

"Yes, yes Miss Jamieson. She's in trouble, terrible trouble, and she needs help."

"What kind of trouble? Look, just who are you and how did you get this number?" Like most policemen, Stephen was careful about who he gave out his private, ex-directory number to.

"There isn't time for a long explanation. Miss Jamieson said you would help her. She said to tell you to come to Damocles Priory, that you'd understand."

Understanding was certainly not on Stephen's agenda at that point, but the mention of Damocles Priory certainly got his attention and gave the call some credibility.

"Please say you'll come. Please." The voice at the other end of the line sounded really desperate.

"All right, but you'll have to give me some more information."

"There isn't time, there just isn't time. They might find me here at any minute and then I'm in deep trouble too. Look, if somebody doesn't help her soon it'll be too late and she'll finish up in a brothel in Thailand. I must go now, but don't be too long. Please come quickly." There was a click, followed by the dial tone.

Stephen replaced the handset. He knew that something was wrong, very wrong, but what was he to do about it? Damocles Hall was well outside his area of jurisdiction and, although the mention of Thailand and a brothel in the same context was totally convincing to him, he knew that he could never convince Superintendent Mathews, who had never seen the sinister Thais who staffed Damocles Priory. The best he could hope for was that his chief would agree to a request to the local force to send an officer along to make a routine enquiry and, from what the girl on the phone had said, that might be far too late. The only thing to do is to get down there myself, he thought, but I'd better arrange some back-up just in case.

Quickly, he thumbed through a note-pad which he kept by the phone. When he had first returned from Damocles, he had entertained some crazy idea about making contact with Ruth again, and had gone to the lengths of finding out both her telephone number and that of Tony Chalmers. He had no idea what he was thinking of achieving, and had soon realised it was a hopeless quest, but the numbers were still there.

Feverishly, he dialled Ruth's number first, just in case it was a practical joke. If Ruth answered, then he could just put the phone down, without speaking, and then he'd have to get his own number changed again, to prevent any more nuisance calls. The phone rang, three times. Then his heart gave a leap as, unmistakably, Ruth's voice answered.

"Hello. This is Ruth. I'm not available right now so please leave a message after the tone."

Stephen took a deep breath. Silly of me. Never gave a thought to an answering machine. He replaced the receiver without speaking, then dialled Tony Chalmers's number. This time he was more prepared and, when the voice on the other end identified itself as a recording, he was able to leave a sensible if enigmatic message saying that if Tony was unaware of Ruth's whereabouts he should get himself and a squad down to Damocles Priory as soon as possible. Acting on a whim, he did not identify himself.

It took only a few minutes for Stephen to get kitted up in his motorcycle gear but, just as he was about to lock the door, he decided to make one last check and rang Ruth's number again. This time, he did leave a message on the tape.

The journey to Damocles was easy; the powerful bike ate up the miles, unimpeded by any traffic, and, by two thirty in the morning, Stephen was in place, crawling through the undergrowth at the edge of the priory grounds. He had carefully hidden his motor cycle, covered in bracken, in a gully just off the road near the main gate.

Now that he was in the priory grounds, Stephen began to wonder just what he was going to do next. He couldn't just march up to the front door, in the middle of the night, with no legal authority, and say "Have you got Miss Ruth Jamieson here?" The only option open to him was to wait and see if there were any suspicious signs when it got light and then, if necessary, try to get some evidence that would convince the authorities to take action. Creeping up to the edge of the tree line, he saw the main building, perhaps fifty yards away across the lawn. Everything was in darkness and he was thankful that his motor cycle kit, designed to keep out the gales of a 150mph slipstream, was well lined and warm. He made himself as comfortable as he could and settled down to wait. It was going to be a long night.

In reality, he had to wait for only about three hours before the grey dawn light began to put some detail into the dark shadows he had been watching. Anyone who thinks a town is noisy at night should do this at least once in their lives, Stephen thought to himself. The cacophony of sounds which had kept him awake and alert for the last few hours had been alien to his townsman's ears; from the hooting of the owl in the trees behind him to the coughing which had made him think he was not the only one watching the house. He had almost laughed out loud with relief when the fox had padded silently across the lawn, paused to look directly at his hiding place, then barked again, the sound exactly like an asthmatic smoker. Stiffly, he eased himself into a better position, and began to wish he had brought some food and drink with him instead of setting out in such a hurry on this scatterbrained scheme.

During the course of the morning he made a cautious exploration of the woods which separated the grounds of the priory from the surrounding fields. By a stroke of luck, at the back edge of the woods to the rear of the house there was a galvanised trough, no doubt for the benefit of the cattle which he could see gathered on the far side of the adjoining field. The trough was fed from a stand-pipe and, although the water which emerged as he turned the tap had been pretty rust-coloured at first, it had cleared after a few seconds, allowing Stephen to slake his thirst, albeit with some concerns about what it might do to his gut later.

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, Stephen manoeuvred himself around the building, trying to obtain a better vantage point. Whichever way he looked at the building, it seemed boringly normal. At about nine in the morning, a young man had emerged from the front door, walked to the side of the building, and a few moments later re-emerged driving a flashy-looking Japanese sports car, which he had driven off, rather fast and noisily, down the lane. At about three in the afternoon, the same car had returned. The young man had abandoned it on the drive at the front of the building and gone inside. Apart from that, Stephen had seen the housekeeper and at least one of her thuggish brothers, whom Stephen had difficulty telling apart. But they had simply been performing routine domestic chores, appearing from time to time at one or another of the windows, and once, emerging briefly from a side door to put some rubbish in the bin outside. Everything was totally, crushingly, normal.

A movement in one of the upper windows caught his eye. He could see a pale shape behind the glass, and cursed that he had not brought any binoculars with him. The rays of the sun, lowering in the sky as the door wore on, glinted on the window, blotting out the shape momentarily, then, as a cloud drifted across the sky, for a brief two or three seconds the sun was obscured and the glass became fully transparent. It was Ruth! Stephen stiffened with excitement. It was not a hoax after all! She was standing facing directly out of the window and, as far as he could tell at that distance, was unharmed. But she was plainly, deliciously, tantalisingly naked. For a moment he forgot why he was there, and entertained a rapid mental slide show of suggestive images. Then the cloud drifted on and Ruth disappeared behind the sun's reflection as swiftly as she had been revealed.

With a new sense of purpose, Stephen withdrew into the deeper cover of the trees. It wouldn't do to be caught now, just when things were starting to happen. Returning to the spot where he had hidden his bike, he rummaged in the pannier, fetching out the small tool kit which he always carried. The biggest screwdriver in the kit was still a flimsy thing, but might be better than nothing if it came to breaking in. Swiftly, he cleared away the covering of bracken he had used to hide the bike and heaved the machine upright. He looked around, checking that there was no one within earshot. Then he inserted the key and started the engine. Thankfully, it fired first time, and the big motor immediately settled into a smooth, purring tick-over. If he and Ruth were going to make a rapid getaway, he needed to be sure he could rely on the machinery not to let them down. The thought of Ruth, naked as a baby, clinging to her gallant rescuer as they tore down the lane both excited him and made him smile.

His rising ego and the noise of the bike engine combined to confound his romantic dream. He never heard a sound as Luc crept behind him, his broad hands extended in classic karate pose. Bike and rider tumbled into an untidy heap in the bottom of the gully as the heel of Luc's calloused hand hit Stephen just behind the right ear.

* * *

Ruth stood, squirming in anticipation, futilely testing the strength of her bonds. After waiting for several agonising minutes, she heard a commotion outside the door, which suddenly burst open. Nicky was roughly pushed in, followed by Robin Henderson and Madam Karabengse. Robin angrily pushed his erstwhile partner across the room and Madam Karabengse was quick to follow, grabbing the girl's arms and holding them tightly behind her back. As this trio cleared the door, another figure appeared. Luc had evidently been out in the grounds because his shoes were muddied and there were green stains at the knees of his trousers, as if he had slipped or fallen on wet grass.

However this did not hold Ruth's attention for more than a movement. Her horror-struck gaze was riveted to the burden which Luc carried like a sack, slung over his shoulder. As he leaned forward to deposit his load on the floor, she saw, to her utter dismay, that it was the unconscious body of Stephen Langton.

Ruth knew beyond doubt that now she was in very deep trouble indeed.

Yikes! Now what?
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, May 22, 2017

Recap: Spanko Brunch for May 21

How do you feel about birching?

Sir Wendel: No desire to try it.

Amy: I had to look up what birching was. Google, an amazing thing. Intrigued is where I ended up and if Eric was game, I'd try it. In particular, my interest was piqued when I read a story about a Victorian girl who had to prepare her own birching implement. I've always wondered how much the anticipation of a spanking would be increased by having to go out and find, get or make whatever would be used to dish out a punishment.

Roz: Nope, never been birched and don't desire to be! Birching isn't my favourite to read either.

Simon: I have been birched several times and have been lucky enough to have birched a delightful lady once. The sensation is very different to a cane as the separate switches spread out in flight and cover quite a lot of the the target, also unless you are very careful the twigs will wrap round striking the thigh and hip. The pain initially does not seem that bad but it builds in intensity very quickly and I would suggest that a full size birch is only for very experienced receivers of punishment. However a small birch composed of light thin twigs under a foot long is ideal for punishing parts of the body even more sensitive than the buttocks. Another problem with birches is that bits break off during the punishment so after my birching I can often be found with a bare backside vacuuming the carpet—a sight guaranteed to cause hilarity in any watchers.

Leigh: Never been birched. To me, it's always seemed pretty harsh, although, like everything else it depends on those doing the birching, I guess.

Domhnall: I was birched once. The wrap around is hard to avoid and can be very painful. Bee stings come to mind.

Anon: I would probably regret it, but would try it if I had with the right playmate.

Samuel: I was birched five times by my grandfather. One time my own father watched as his dad
made me feel the full extent of his wrath. The was the hardest thing to have my dad witness my shame. I should add that the last time I was a boy of 16 and was made to go out and gather the branches that Gramps used on me.

Ronnie: I have been birched and have no desire to try it again. Wrap round happens. I agree with Domhnall the Second, does feel like bee stings.

Hermione: I have read quite a few birching scenes in the Victorian magazine, The Pearl. As Amy mentioned, the preparation of the birch is often part of the punishment and adds to the anticipation. However, descriptions of birchings were all too often over the top; rather bloody, in fact, and blood is one of my hard limits. I can think of other forms of punishment that appeal to me more, and am in no hurry to try it.

Thank you all for expressing your feelings on this subject. See you next week!
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #177





Welcome, dear friends, to our weekly spanko brunch. Here in Canada we are enjoying a long weekend in honour of Queen Victoria's birthday on May 24. It's the traditional weekend for us Northerners to plant our gardens without fear of frost, and the garden centres are hives of activity. To celebrate, I offer you a slice of Victoria sponge.

Speaking of the Victorians, we are currently watching a television series in which a London Victorian slum has been recreated, and several families have volunteered to live in it. Each week they experience life as it was in a Victorian slum, starting in 1860 and moving ahead 10 years each week. They wear the clothing, eat the food, and do the jobs of that time period, and it all seems very realistic—and terribly miserable. Can't pay the rent? Then it's the doss house for you. Out you go!

Naturally I am wondering if there will ever be a reenactment of the corporal punishments typical in the Victorian era. Birching comes to mind, and I suspect my hope is in vain.

What are your thoughts on birching? Have you ever wanted to experience it? Have you ever actually tried it? How did that go? When you read fiction that includes a description of birching, does it interest you, or is it something you would rather not read about? Have you seen a video of a birching?

Leave your response as a comment and I will publish your thoughts once everyone has had a chance to speak.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, May 20, 2017

You Completed the Caption

Simon: Ella thought it was very cruel of Henri to make her do cornertime whilst he was off enjoying himself at the Moulin Rouge.

kdpierre: "What an odd little man," Giselle thought. "Usually when a guy pays me to take off my clothes I end up doing more than just gazing at my reflection! Ah, but the absinthe is tasty, so c'est la vie!"

Hands63: Recently discovered! Leonardo da Vinci's kinky period work. "Moaning Lisa".

This is a most unusual police station. I'm guessing there are detectives on the other side of this two way mirror watching and getting excited. 

Enzo: Proof that Corner time is not a new idea, but a traditional post-spanking punishment.

arched one: As she looked in the mirror she wondered when her spanking would start.

Red: Husband said he didn't want my feet to be cold so I should keep my socks on, and he would make certain that my bottom was very hot shortly, and redder than my hair.

Sir Wendel: She stood waiting for someone to paint a spanking on her bottom.

Ronnie: He said to take my dress and undergarments off - does that mean socks as well?

Liza: Kim Kardashian contemplating whether she should dye her hair black.

Dr. Ken: "Hmmm--I think my bottom needs a touch of color, too..."

Hermione: Sammy Monet loved to paint nudes but he never quite got the hang of how to paint faces.
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, May 19, 2017

Friday FAIL

It's time for another journey into the wonderful world of grammar. Let's see where the yellow brick road takes us.





Well played, Sir!





I'll bet his major wasn't English!





These two were not meant to be friends.





None whatsoever.





It's hard to read, but the writing on the car window says, "For seal".

Sigh.
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Complete the Caption

What's the story behind this portrait? I have an idea, but I want to hear your explanations first.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your contributions on Saturday.
From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

From the Top Shelf - A Master of Discipline, part 17

The future was looking mighty bleak for Ruth last week, but our heroine is quite a resourceful individual and is not giving in to the whims of ruthless Robin.

Ruth lay on the bed, waiting for something to happen. She tried to work out how much time had passed since her abduction. It was difficult to know because she had been unconscious for some of the time, but she thought that it must be almost forty-eight hours. After Kim had dumped her on the bed and locked her in, she had cried herself into a fitful sleep, which she guessed must have lasted an hour or so. When she awoke her first reaction had been to have a shower.

What hurt more than the bruises, she realised, was the insight into her own psyche: the knowledge that, as she was being caned, one corner of her mind was actually relishing what was happening to her, even as the conventional side of her was recoiling in horror. She hated herself for it but, as each stinging stroke of Robin Henderson's merciless punishment had sent fresh shock waves shuddering through her lower body, she had felt herself reacting, craving more and more punishment. And, although she had not anticipated it, she was disgusted to realise how she had reacted to what followed...

While she dried herself, she was surprised to hear the key scrape in the lock. Wrapping the towel around herself to instinctively cover her nakedness, she cowered in the corner of the room, fearful that one, or both, of the brothers had come to use her body again. To her intense relief, it was Nicky's slim form that slipped into the room.

"What do you want?" Ruth did not disguise the anger in her voice when she saw that her former pupil was alone.

"Robin says I can give you some food." Nicky held out a tray covered by a white napkin. Ruth eyed the tray, tempted to lash out and knock it from the younger girl's hands. The urge to give way to her anger was offset by the awareness that it was a long time since she had eaten. She decided that common sense should prevail, and gestured to the bed.

"Put it down there." She made her tone as icy as possible.

"Ruth...Miss Jamieson.." Nicky's voice was hesitant and timid.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry for what happened. I didn't know what they were going to do to you, honest I didn't."

"So 'sorry' makes it all right then, does it?"

"No, of course not. I mean...well I really mean it. I am just so sorry. Don't you see? I just don't know the words." The girl was clearly close to tears.

"Welcome to the real world, Nicky," Ruth said bitterly. "'Sorry' doesn't cut it, and it doesn't undo what you took part in either. What's done can't be undone."

"I know that, miss, but I don't know how to make things better. Oh please, miss, it's all gone so terribly wrong! It seemed like just a bit of a lark at first, and you did hurt me terribly when you and Mr. Fullerton caned me. I was angry and I wanted to get my own back. Oh, it was wrong, I know that now, but it seemed as if we could get away with it and not much lasting harm done. Robin was so confident and convincing...and I thought he loved me. Oh, it's all got so out of hand." She began to sob, the cries wracking her body in a series of shudders which ran right through her, shaking her from top to toe.

Ruth was not inclined to let Nicky off lightly, but it was not in her nature to be vindictive, and the sight of the girl in such deep distress did not help her own plight.

"If you really want to make things better, you can help, you know," she said, hopefully.

"How?" The word was choked out on another sob.

"You could get us out of here, or contact someone who can."

"I can't do that. Robin would never let me, and in any case, I won't call the police. It is the police you mean, isn't it? If they get involved we'll all be locked up. I couldn't face that and it would kill my parents. I'm sorry, miss, I couldn't do that, no matter what."

"Nicky, have you any idea what they are planning for me if you don't get some help?" Ruth tried not to let the desperation show in her voice.

"Yes, but Robin said you really enjoyed it...you know...being beaten. He showed me the video that Mould made. He said it was perfectly obvious how much you were enjoying it. That's why I thought it would be OK when he first suggested that we give you the cane. Just a return on what you gave us."

This revelation made Ruth colour up as deeply as at any time over the last few weeks. The knowledge that her once-favourite pupil had actually seen her in such a humiliating position, had actually detected that she had drawn some deep, not yet fully understood, pleasure from her subjection to corporal punishment, was the most deeply shaming insight she'd yet had to face.

"Nicky, listen to me. I don't know what you thought you saw on that video. Maybe it didn't show me in the best possible light but, like I said, what's been done can't be undone. That applies to me as well as to you. Perhaps I have made some mistakes lately and perhaps one of those mistakes was in punishing you too harshly. Believe me, Nicky, I never intended to be unjust, but in the real world mistakes happen, miscalculations happen. All I'm asking is that you don't make another one, one that you'll really be sorry for. You are a decent girl and it will ruin the rest of your life. Do you know they are planning to send me into slave labour in Thailand, never to be heard of again. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Nicky looked doubtful but she was clearly wavering. Ruth could see that her impassioned plea was having some effect on the girl and her hopes rose.

"I-I don't see what I can do. I won't call the police."

It was Ruth's turn to think hard. How could she get help, in a way that would not frighten Nicky into betraying herself to Robin Henderson. Then she had a brainwave.

"Nicky, when you saw the video of me, when I was here before at Damocles, were there any other people on the video apart from the Reverend Mould?"

"Well, yes, the tape had two other women and a man. You all got punished one way or another, and Robin said you all seemed to be really into it, or you wouldn't have been there. Although it didn't look as if one of the other ladies was enjoying it much, the thin one, I mean."

Ignoring the embarrassing implications of Nicky's insight into the pleasure she had taken from having her bottom beaten, Ruth concentrated on her objective. "Nicky, if I gave you the telephone number of the man on the video, would you contact him for me? He knows where this place is so there is no problem of giving directions, so he could organise some help, if you just told him I was in trouble."

Ruth was careful, of course, not to mention what Stephen Langton did for a living, and Nicky, after a moment's hesitation, fell into the trap. "All right," she said hesitantly, "I suppose that would be OK. What's his number?"

Ruth's spirits sank. She had not bothered to memorise the number on the card, she had never expected to make contact with him again.

"It's on a card, in my purse. Do you know what happened to all my things?"

"All your clothes and belongings are still downstairs, in the main hall. Robin said to leave them there - he said you wouldn't be needing your clothes for a while." Nicky looked uncomfortable, aware that her teacher was covered only by a towel.

"Can you get to them? Is my purse still there, do you know?"

"Yes, I think so." Nicky was hesitant. "I can try."

"Good girl. When you find my purse, look inside it. There is a card, like a business card, with the name Stephen Langton on it, and his home telephone number. Phone Stephen and tell him where I am. You don't have to tell him all the details, it would take too long. Just say that I am in desperate trouble and I need his and Tony's help. Tony is my boyfriend. They will know what to do."

"All right, I'll try, but you must promise that you'll do your best to help Robin, whatever happens."

Ruth wondered how on earth she could reassure the girl without deliberately lying to her. After a moment she said: "Nicky, I won't lie to you. You have to trust me. You and Robin have done something very wrong and sooner or later you will have to face the consequences. All I can promise is that my experiences over the last few weeks have made me very careful about injustices, and, if you help me now, I'll do all I can to help you in return."

The worry on Nicky's face lifted a little and she stared into the eyes of her teacher.

"I appreciate that very much, miss. You've always been straight with me and anyway I wouldn't have believed you if you'd said we'd get away with it. OK I'll do what I can to help. Now I'd better go or Robin and the others will get suspicious. Oh, by the way," she added as an afterthought, just as she turned to the door, "I put a jar on your tray. It has some stuff called Moon Balm in it. Madam Karabengse and her brothers say that it is very good at soothing pain. I thought you might need it."

Ruth smiled her appreciation. "That was a kind thought. It is good stuff and I could certainly use some right now. If they ask why you have been so long with me, just tell them that you were helping to massage it in for me."

* * *

Almost a full day had elapsed since the brief meeting with Nicky had raised Ruth's hopes. After the girl had left the room, Ruth had inspected the tray, which contained a few sandwiches as well as the Moon Balm. She had decided that her hunger was worse than the throbbing inside her bottom, which had been greatly reduced by Luc's application of the balm as a lubricant, so she attacked the food first. Afterwards, with nothing else to do to pass the time, she had applied the balm to all the areas that still ached. The massage had brought back all the memories she had unconsciously erased from her mind and, despite her situation, she was amazed to find that she was becoming aroused again. Eventually sleep overcame her, and by the time she woke up the sun was streaming through the window.

At first Ruth had not known where she was and had sat bolt upright on the bed, puzzled by her unfamiliar surroundings and the fact that she had no clothes on. Then it all came back to her and she realised with a heavy heart that she was still a captive. She tried again to work out how long it had been since her abduction. With a shock, she realised that, as her caning by Robin had taken place in the early evening, and it had been evening when she was taken from in front of her own house, she must, somehow, have lost a full day. The knowledge that so much time had passed deeply depressed her, and the thought that, even if Nicky managed to phone for help, it was unlikely to arrive for several hours depressed her even more.

Suddenly there was a noise, the key turning in the lock, and Ruth saw the door handle begin to turn. She grabbed the towel from where it had fallen and did her best to cover herself. The stony-faced Madam Karabengse came into the room, closely followed by Kim, who stopped just inside the door and stood impassively, clearly there to prevent any attempt at escape. Madam Karabengse was carrying another tray, which she put down on the bedside table.

"It is good to see you awake and alert," she said, her voice betraying no hint of compassion. "We do not want our merchandise damaged before you get to Thailand. I have brought you some more food as I don't want you to feel we are starving you - but first I want to inspect the damage from last night."

"Leave me alone!" Ruth shouted frantically, backing away from the bed towards the farthest wall of the room. "Don't you touch me!"

"You must stop being such a silly girl, " responded Madam Karabengse. "I am your mistress now, and you do as I say. You turn around now and face the wall. Let the towel drop."

"I will NOT!" Ruth was ready to fight.

Madam Karabengse spoke a few words to her brother, her voice leaving no doubt as to her intentions, even if Ruth could not understand what was said. The stocky Kim carefully locked the door and handed the key to his sister, before advancing on Ruth. Determined to put up some resistance, to make it clear to these people that she was not just their plaything just there to do their bidding, she launched herself at him, her hands out, determined to scratch at his face and use her knees.

In a split second, she knew that she had misjudged the situation. Despite his apparent lethargy, Kim moved like lightning. Ruth never did work out the sequence of moves but , in a split second, she found herself pinned face down, across the bed, bereft of even the scant protection of the towel. Madam Karabengse swiftly moved between Ruth's legs, forcing them apart. Ruth flinched as she felt the woman's cold hands on her buttocks, squeezing them, kneading, spreading the cheeks wide so that everything was open to examination. She sobbed with frustration, shame and anger as Kim held her firmly down.

"OK," Madam Karabengse pronounced with some satisfaction. "You are not marked much at all. I think the Moon Balm did its work well. You will be ready for another lesson tonight. We shall leave you now to think about that but first, Kim will give you something to remember. You will learn not to make a fuss when I give you an order!"

She said something to her brother which was unintelligible to Ruth and Kim's hand, as hard as a board from martial arts training, whacked down on Ruth's bottom four times in rapid succession, twice on each cheek. It was so sudden and unexpected that Ruth squealed loudly, wriggling frantically in a fruitless effort to escape. Madam Karabengse went to Ruth's head and lifted the tear-stained face.

"You will obey quickly next time or Kim will not stop at four. You understand?"

No reply was necessary and Ruth felt the weight of Kim's other hand leave her body. She lay on the bed sobbing for some time after the housekeeper and her brother had left, the warmth of the spanking soaking into her. Eventually she tidied herself up, applied some of the ubiquitous balm, and tried to eat some food.

The rest of the day was a mixture of boredom and anticipation, interrupted briefly when Madam Karabengse and Luc brought her some lunch, sometime in the early afternoon. Ruth again resorted to the towel to cover her nakedness, despite the fact that they had seen all there was of her, and this time there was no additional trauma. Luc simply leered at Ruth from the doorway as the housekeeper exchanged the empty tray for the full one. Ruth stood back against the far wall, the big bath towel clenched tightly to her body, staring at Luc and trying not to think about what had happened the night before. The expression on his face left her in no doubt that he was remembering the same experience, and she sensed her knees weakening as she relived the sensation... The thought dominated her mind for the rest of the afternoon as she lay on the bed, listening to the various muted sounds which drifted up to her from various parts of the house.

Of Robin and Nicky there was neither sight or sound. Occasionally she got up to look out of the window, leaving the towel, on which she depended for some degree of modesty, on the bed. There was nothing to see. The priory was surrounded by thick woods, stretching back for a distance of several hundred yards on all sides, and she was too far from the road to see or hear any passing traffic.

Now, after being alone with her thoughts for so long, Ruth guessed that her wait must be coming to an end. The shadows of the trees were lengthening and she guessed that the afternoon was drawing to a close. She was sure that, whatever Robin and the Karabengse family had in store for her, it would not now be long before she found out. She suddenly felt a terrible urge to pee. The tension was unbelievable; a mixture of fear and sexual anticipation which added to her sense of humiliation and made every nerve in her body hypersensitive Every slight sound in the house made her jump. Was this the moment? Had the time come for her to be dragged downstairs again, naked and vulnerable? Right on cue, she heard footsteps outside the door and the familiar sound of the key in the lock. It was Kim, alone, who opened the door.

"You come now," he said sternly, holding out a hand. Ruth knew that is was no use to resist. She didn't want another hard on-the-spot spanking, so, clutching the towel tightly to her body with one hand, she grudgingly allowed him to take her other hand in his. With his free hand, he grasped the towel she was clutching desperately to her bosom, wrenched it away from her with ease, and hurled it to the floor.

"You won't be needing that, " he said.

There might be some hope for Ruth if Nicky managed to find the card and telephone Stephen without arousing Robin's suspicions. Will Tony and Stephen arrive in time? What is in store for the towelless Ruth?
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, May 15, 2017

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for May 14

Do you ever have dreams about spanking?

kdpierre: Amazingly I cannot recall a single dream along these lines. Given my interests and my age one would think a spanking dream would be inevitable. However, my most consistently recurring dream is about school! (and I graduated DECADES ago!)

Joe: The most memorable dream actually involved a woman I was seeing. There was nothing sexual in our relationship, she was older and we just enjoyed one another company. It included her best friend for reasons I do not understand.

We were all staying at a beach house, I had decided to get up early and walk along the beach naked. My friend had told me secluded or not best not do anything stupid. Well both of them saw me, both were standing there when I approached. You need a spanking my friend told me with a smile, I looked at her and said you do not spank and continue walking past her. Her friend took my ear, well I do young man and soon I was across her lap in the kitchen. Like hell you bitch I said and then the spanking began, I could feel it, I was soon kicking, squirming and saying enough. When she did stop, she took me to the bathroom, I had to pee and she watched, and then I had soap in my mouth. I faced the wall, both talked, her friend told me to go get dress and my punishment was not over.

Nothing happen until the next morning, both were up and having coffee, Joyce looked at me and told me to come to her, she pulled my pajama bottom down and looked at my bottom. See it is still red young man, I said nothing. I went to pull them back up and she stopped me. Change in our relationship and you best accept and told me to get across her lap, I slowly did and to my shock she gave me a sound spanking and I was a mess when I got up. My pajamas bottoms I kicked off and she told me to hand her the tops and I did. Do you have to pee young man, I nodded and she took me to the bathroom and watched. Just before we left the bathroom she bent me over and landed several more spanks and said I best improve or you will regret your trips over my lap. Crying, we went back to the kitchen, I faced the wall. Her friend asked her how she felt and she said really good. Will need to stop off at a store going home, I will be needing a nice large hairbrush. I woke up and I reached to rub my bottom.

Sir Wendel: On occasion my dreams will include someone getting a spanking whether it is me, the misses or a total stranger. The scenes range from it being the primary focus to someone in the background receiving a spanking.

Roz: Hmm, I can't recall any dreams that included spanking either.

Dr. Ken: I have had spanking dreams many times--that I can remember, anyway. I probably had many more that I can't recall at all. Many of the dreams are frustrating--they'll end just as I'm getting her across my knee, or lifting her skirt, or where I'll threaten to spank her and then never get the chance to do so. None of them stand out as being particularly memorable, although I did have one recently about a lady I know on the East Coast that I'm still in contact with but haven't seen or spanked in years. She did get a good spanking in the dream, so it seemed more like a pleasant memory than a dream.

sam: I have dreamed several times about an event that happened when I was a boy. My cousin and I were visiting our grandparents.

My gramps caught the two of us jerking off behind the shrubs at the end of their property. Both of us were spanked bare assed. First me as I was oldest then my cousin. We both had bruises for several days after. More than once I have woken in tears.

Hermione: I have had dreams about spanking in the past, usually given by someone who would never do so in real life, but sometimes administered by Ron. I can't recall any specifics; the main thing I notice is that they never actually hurt.

Thank you for your reminiscences!
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #176

Welcome, one and all, to our regular weekend get-together. We live in interesting times, and sometimes sleep is a pleasant escape from reality. But what happens when you close your eyes at night?

Do you ever dream of spanking? Are the spankings based on reality, or is the situation improbable? Do you feel pain? What is the most memorable spanking dream you have ever had?

Leave your response as a comment and I will publish a summary of our discussion on Monday.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, May 13, 2017

You Completed the Caption

This week's photo inspired some wonderful captions and encouraged some new participants to join in.

Hands63: What's that noise coming from the rear?

kdpierre: After being dumped by Herbie "the Love Bug", Melissa began to 'revenge fuck' random Volkswagens hoping to make him jealous.

Mary: VW and the 60's and this is not the proper dress?

Sir Wendel: Volkswagon’s forgotten ad campaign for the Beetle’s sleek new “spankable” rear end.

Baxter: Her significant other was always praising the rear end of his VW, where we all know the engine was. Her plan was to have him praise HER rear end by standing naked and see what happened. Well, what happened was she got a spanking for standing naked in public and she was ok with that as he was, in effect, praising her rear end. She hoped for much more such praise, since it was such a turn on.

ricky: Oh yes, we are forgetting something!
Now don't tell me, I've got it . . .
Just give me a few minutes . . .
Err, can I get back to you?

Jackie: My body left me many years ago, but in our day my best friend and I drove across country in a VW. We did just this, out in the country, no one around, we took several pictures of each other, naked. Thankful to have a very good friend to develop the pictures. We were just girls living life freely.

Ronnie: Oh come on Roy, you promised me a spanking if I let you take pictures of me nude.


Kingspan: Blushing, Bob beheld Barbara's beautiful booty by Bug's back bumper.

Hermione: Yes, Captain, the trunk is packed and I'm ready for action.

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

Friday, May 12, 2017

Friday FAIL

Last week we laughed at the mangled fast food orders that customers received. But this week we turn the tables and hear from the workers on the other side of the order counter.



























Sigh, indeed!
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Complete the Caption

Off on a road trip on a fine, sunny day. But aren't we forgetting something?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your itineraries on Saturday.
From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

From the Top Shelf - A Master of Discipline, part 16

Our story took a very dark turn last week, when Ruth awakened to find herself at the mercy of the students she had caned as well as the staff of Damocles Priory. Now the shoe is on the other foot and the young people are going to extract their revenge. There was also mention of sending Ruth to work in a brothel in Thailand, but first there are two canings to get through.

Ruth lowered her eyes from the vicious-looking cane. It was considerably heavier and more knotted than the one she had used on Nicky, and she recalled with a shiver just what her pupil's bottom had looked like at the end of her punishment.

"You both deserved what you got," she hissed defiantly at her tormentor. "That was legitimate school discipline; you deserved to be punished and the slate was wiped clean as a result. This is criminal kidnapping."

"I'm not going to argue with you. From what I saw and heard on Mould's video tapes, I'm launching you on a career at which you could excel. In fact, I may even be doing you a favour! Anyhow, you gave Nicky a total of eight stripes, so that's exactly what she's going to give you in return. Then we'll give you five minutes or so to recover, and then I'm going to give you back the six that your interference cost me. I'm going to imagine it's that scumbag Fullerton's scrawny backside I'm aiming at rather than your cute and shapely little bottom, so you can be sure there will be no mercy. Every stroke is going to count, believe me!"

As he finished his speech, Ruth tried frantically to wriggle free of her bonds. The memory of her birching at the hands of Reverend Mould was all too recent in her mind, and she could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat as the sentence was pronounced. Pulling at the straps merely hurt her wrists and ankles and made her breasts swing uncomfortably beneath her. The restraints were far too effective for her to have any chance of escape.

Ruth's efforts to wrench herself free, and her concentration on Robin's words, left her unaware of Nicky taking up a position behind and to the left of her. Unused to her task, Nicky made no preliminary sighting taps on Ruth's buttocks. She just drew back the cane and delivered a stinging swipe, striking horizontally, making fortunate contact right across the central curve of her target.

Ruth was still struggling when the line of fire slashed across her upturned bottom. She had not even heard the warning swish of the approaching cane. The shock of the impact, followed a split second later by the burning sensation in her bottom, caused her to throw her head back, her mouth open, the air expelled from her lungs in a hoarse gasp.

"I-I'm sorry, Miss Jamieson, but you did hurt me a lot, and I didn't really deserve such a severe beating. I think you know that, don't you?" Nicky's voice was uncertain and apologetic.

"Don't tell her you're sorry! We've waited weeks for this. Now make the bitch squeal!" Robin snarled.

I'm damned if I'll squeal, Ruth thought, gritting her teeth as she heard the swish of the cane, warning her that the second stroke was on its way. Her determination was just sufficient to last out as Nicky inexpertly caned her bottom. After that first stroke, Ruth sensed that the youngster was not actually putting her full force into each stroke, but, nonetheless, the whippy rattan was more than sufficient to remind Ruth that she had indeed realised that her punishment of Nicky had been too severe. Again and again the rattan swished and cracked across her quivering bottom. Ruth tried to distract her mind from the pain by silently counting the strokes.

She had reached a count of eight when she heard the cane drop to the floor with a clatter, followed by the sound of running footsteps. This would have puzzled her had she not been too preoccupied with her own discomfort to think about anything else. Ruth allowed herself to go limp. It did nothing to relieve the smarting pain which seared through her bottom, but made her position just a little more bearable. The temperature of her bottom seemed to be still rising, even though the caning had ceased.

As she cautiously tried to work out which bits hurt the most, Ruth was thankful that Nicky, in her inexperience, had concentrated her efforts on the fleshier part of her backside. She was able to recall, all too easily, what it had felt like when the birch had worked its way down across the crease of her buttocks and on to her thighs. She did not think she could have maintained her silence if the heavy cane had made contact there. Nicky had placed her strokes in a random pattern all over Ruth's tightly restrained bottom, which now felt as if a blow-lamp had been applied to it. She felt a searing heat, with sharper individual pinpricks of pain where the welts had crossed one another.

A hard, rough-skinned hand brushed the inside of her thigh, reminding Ruth that, although Robin appeared to have left the room, the three Thais were still there, impassive and silent as ever. One of the men, she could not tell which, was behind her now. Fresh dimensions of horror churned in her mind as the hand relentlessly slid up between her widely spread legs. She squirmed and wriggled furiously, having exactly the opposite effect to what she intended, as the clenching of her bottom cheeks momentarily squeezed the intruding fingers.

"Master Robin was right." The heavily accented voice of Kim came from behind her. "She is enjoying her beating and becoming wet. This one will do very well in our 'house' in Bangkok."

The confirmation of her intended fate drew a sob from Ruth. Robin Henderson had sold her into some form of white slavery and she was doomed to end her days in a Bangkok brothel. For the first time since her abduction, fear took over from anger as her dominant reaction.

"Enough of that!" Robin had returned to the room. His voice was sharp, the edge of command still evident. "I told you - no handling the merchandise until I have finished with her. Then you can do what you like."

Ruth felt a hand under her chin, lifting her head, and found herself staring at her youthful tormentor.

"Now there's another score to settle," he snarled, his lip curling as he spoke. "Nicky has suddenly gone all squeamish and locked herself in her room. She says she doesn't want to see the rest of your punishment and even says to tell you she's sorry."

Ruth felt a small pang of hope. Perhaps Nicky might help her after all. If only she doesn't leave it too late, she thought, more to keep her spirits up than with any real conviction.

"I'm not a bit sorry, though, and I'm going to enjoy hearing you scream. You kept quiet when Nicky was caning you, but now you're dealing with a different proposition. I'm going to make you squeal, believe me. You'll be travelling to Thailand standing upright with your arse burning like a coal fire when I've finished with you, you'll see!"

"Do take care, Master Robin," Madam Karabengse spoke. "Take care not to damage the merchandise in your enthusiasm or we will have to reduce her price."

Ruth felt a hysterical desire to laugh at the sudden concern for her welfare.

"Don't worry, Madam K. I am only going to give her the traditional English six of the best - but I'm going to make them bloody good ones! We've been dishing that kind of treatment out to our better-off kids for centuries and nobody died! She's going to be pretty damned sore all right, but nothing worse."

He gave a cynical laugh as he moved round behind Ruth. Feeling the cane resting lightly across her bottom, Ruth willed herself to relax. She knew that what was coming was going to hurt and, with that knowledge, butterflies began to flutter inside her tummy and a surge of electricity coursed between her legs. She could feel a film of perspiration forming all over her body. The only thing she could do was let herself go limp, take what was coming, and try to let the tension escape. This time there would be no gritting of teeth; far better to let the yell come out.

The volume of sound as she screamed startled even Ruth. Robin must have learned his lessons extremely well from watching the Reverend's videos. His first stroke had landed low down on Ruth's bottom, exactly where her thighs and cheeks met. He had judged the swing perfectly, so that almost the entire length of the cane had made contact at the same instant, and her bottom cheeks had been lifted by the impact, before dropping back into place. The pain sank in, like a wave rolling up a shingle beach, gathering force as it came. It started as a localised pain at the point of impact but, as the seconds ticked away, its effects began to spread through her entire body.

Fully twenty seconds later, the fierce crack of wood on plump flesh, followed by another piercing scream, echoed around the high ceiling. Ruth broke down into sobs as she felt her buttocks quiver with the aftershocks of the second stroke. Although this phase of her torment only lasted for another eighty or ninety seconds, it was the longest and most agonising minute and a half of Ruth's life. Robin Henderson was very young, strong and fit, and his aim was near perfect, as was his timing. He placed each stroke just a fraction above the preceding one, so that each individual cut was felt, but, during the agonising wait between each blow, the sharply defined bands of fire blended into one throbbing, burning ache.

Ruth tried to count the strokes, to reassure herself that it was nearly over, that there were only four left, then three, then two, but it didn't help, and in any case she lost count after three. Had she not been so securely restrained, she would surely have fallen from the bench, the frantic threshing of her body being strong enough to make the wooden legs squeak on the polished floor.

"Now then, you bitch, try and sit down after that, if you can." Robin's voice was triumphant. "I'm going to leave you with Madam K and her brothers now. You should think yourself lucky. The good news for you is that we are going to let you have some Moon Balm on your bottom, a benefit Nicky and I never had after we got caned. The bad news for you is that tomorrow we are going to do this all over again!"

Ruth slumped, as much as her bonds would allow, her body wracked with sobs. The pain in her bottom was intense, but her mental agony was even more acute. The fact that her abuse had been carried out by her own former pupils made her humiliation all the more complete. She had been determined to retain at least some composure, preserve some shreds of dignity, so that when the worst was over she could retain her own self-esteem. But even that had been denied her. Robin had been strong enough, and expert enough, to break down her barriers of self-control completely. There was nothing left.

For several minutes, Ruth was left alone with her thoughts, the fire in her buttocks gradually subsiding from the level of fierce flames to a sensation akin to glowing coals. Then she became aware, dimly, of movements around her, and of voices speaking in an unfamiliar language. A hand touched her bottom and she flinched as the contact sent a new tongue of flame darting up the nerves of her spine. Madam Karabengse was bending over her, rubbing, massaging and Ruth was gratefully aware that the agony in her buttocks was being soothed away.

As the incredible ointment did its work and the pain in her backside ebbed away, Ruth became aware of other sensations, suppressed while the immediate effects of the caning had held her attention, but stimulated now by the housekeeper's deft fingers massaging her bottom, working the unguent into her throbbing gluteal muscles. The memory of Kim's finger probing the outer edges of her pussy returned. At that point, before Robin's sadistic beating had driven all such thoughts from her mind, Ruth had known that Kim's observation on her state of arousal had been correct. The shame of that knowledge returned to her now, together with the realisation that, as she had bucked and squirmed under the cane's metronomic stimulus, she had been grinding her pubic mound ever more firmly into the rough material of the padding which supported her. She could feel that her clitoris was as hard as a walnut, and she cursed her own body for betraying her so disgracefully.

Suddenly, Madam Karabengse's hand was no longer at Ruth's bottom.

"You are ready now, I think, for training." Madam Karabengse's voice was in her ear again.
What follows next in the original is a graphic description of several sexual acts that are not at all consensual, although Ruth does seem to enjoy them very much. I will leave them to your imagination and resume when the activities have concluded.
The intensity of her climax must have been the final straw in Ruth's weakened state for she blacked out. When she came back to her senses, she was being carried, unceremoniously, draped over the shoulder of one of the brothers, towards the bedrooms which she and the others had occupied on their first visit to Damocles Priory. She allowed herself to be dumped on the bed, and did not betray the fact that she had come round, fearing further assault. She need not have worried for Kim, whom she recognised through half-closed eyes, turned abruptly, left the room, noisily locking the door behind him.

Alone at last, Ruth turned face down on her bed and began to cry.
White slavery? Oh dear, that is definitely not something that I wish to discuss here on this blog. Let's hope that she will manage to escape that fate. Somehow, I think she will find a way.

From Hermione's Heart

Monday, May 8, 2017

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for May 7

How do you feel about residual pain after a spanking?

abby: If the paddling is a long, hard one or if Master uses a cane, there is usually some residual pain. It never lasts long enough...and makes me smile.

Roz: There have been occasions, depending on the implement(s) used I have had residential pain or discomfort lasting usually 1 - 3 days. As Abby said, makes me smile too.

Yorkie: I usually have residual pain. When it is after the final spanking on a weekend away it lasts a day or two and it is glorious.

We haven't been on a weekend away for a while now so my spankings are with my little ever ready cane and my smack stick and while both implements are formidabke and have me clutching the bed sheets with white knuckles at times the after effects do not last any where near long enough for me. :(

Domhnall: I am very disappointed if there isn't a lasting soreness. It makes me happy when I get that reminder that I have been spanked recently.

Ronnie: Depending on the implement used and the length of the spanking there is some residual pain. It makes me smile if I feel the sting next morning in the shower.

Hermione: I enjoy the afterburn; it's a warm reminder of how loved I am. Like abby, I think it never lasts long enough.

kdpierre: Residual pain? Coincidentally, I'm experiencing that now!

Like most here I would concur with the timeline. Depending on the various factors, the tenderness can last from one day to several. The one thing that I seem to be unusual in though is the long time it takes for the discoloration to fade.

No matter how unpleasant the spanking may be in the moment (and we do punitive 'un-fun' spankings here for punishment as well as more playful ones), I do 'like' experiencing the reminder soreness afterwards. There's something comforting about it......like a hug that doesn't end.
Thank you all for this week's discussion.
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #175

Come on in and join us! You are just in time for another friendly discussion about spanking. I'm preparing for a short trip this weekend, and part of the preparation includes a sound spanking. I always like to set off from home with a sore bottom. It makes the long drive uncomfortable yet reassuring, a lovely mixture of pain and pleasure.

Do you or your partner ever feel residual pain after a spanking? If so, how long does it last? Is it enjoyable or just a necessary evil? Do you wish it would last longer or do you try to make it go away?

Leave your response as a comment and I will publish a summary of your thoughts once everyone has had a chance to speak.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, May 6, 2017

You Completed the Caption

Simon: Don't come a knockin' if the horse is a rockin'.

kdpierre: Audrey loved riding her special horse, "Sybian".

Anon 1: Git along little cowboy.

Sir Wendel: Whippy Kay Yay all you bad boys.

Sweetspot: First Saturday in May time for the Kentucky Derby! You're not going to tell me I'm to late are you. You do see what I'm holding?

Ronnie: Whip crack-away. I wish Simon would use this crop on me - oh well, a girl can hope. Whip crack-away.

Anon 2:
Wife: Ooh, honey. I love the new riding crop you bought me. Don't I look just like you when you're up on your horse?
Husband: Sweetheart, I didn't buy that riding crop for you to use when you're riding.
Wife: No. Well what else would a riding crop be used for?
Husband, taking the crop from his wife's hand: I'm about to show you.

Anon 3: So then, ladies, my husband stripped me naked, put me on my hands and knees, straddled me just like this, and took the crop to my bare bottom until was bucking and writhing, and howling with a combination of pain and pleasure I'd never felt before. I was so overcome I nearly fainted, but just as I was about to succumb, he knelt behind me and rode me like the mighty stud he is until we both collapsed in exhaustion. It was absolutely magnificent.

Hermione: Gwendolyn's dramatization of D.H. Lawrence's The Rocking Horse Winner was a hit at the Ladies' Auxiliary talent show.

From Hermione's Heart

Friday, May 5, 2017

Friday FAIL

Let's go out to lunch today, and hope we don't have any trouble with our orders.


Not very generous with the egg and bacon.





Does that bun look odd to you?





Only ketchup and cheese it is, ma'am!





Where's the beef?





A triple pickle sandwich - yummy!


I say we order spankings all round!
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Complete the Caption

Some toys are timeless and you're never too old to play with them. At least that's the impression this young lady gives. What naughtiness do you think she is contemplating?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your submissions on Saturday.

From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

From the Top Shelf - A Master of Discipline, part 15

Last week, events took an unexpected turn for Ruth. Read about it here if you care to refresh your memory before beginning today's installment. I never would have dreamed that the plot would twist this way.
Ruth knew that she was dreaming. There were flashes of vivid colour. Tony, Lillian Greeves, Stephen Langton, the Reverend Mould..they were all there. The characters danced around in her mind like dervishes. She was vaguely aware that each of them held a power over her she could not resist. That power was like a drug; she knew that submitting to it caused her pain but still it was something she craved. The paradox was still tormenting her as her mind slowly swam back into consciousness.

She could not open her eyes but she could hear distant voices gradually coming more into focus. A girl's voice said that she hoped they had not hurt her. Ruth dimly wondered who 'they' might be. A male voice, somehow familiar, angrily responded that of course she had not been hurt, just drugged a little, that's all. Yes, that angry voice was familiar, yet she couldn't place it. Strange - the girl's voice was familiar too. It sounded like Nicky Shaw.

With a great effort, she found she could force her eyes open. Her blurred vision slowly began to clear and gradually stabilised. It was Nicky Shaw! To Ruth's amazement, her favourite pupil was bending over her, a concerned look on her face.

"She's coming round." Nicky was speaking to someone Ruth could not see. The realisation that she could not move accelerated Ruth's return to reality and awareness of her surroundings. She was sitting in a chair, a wooden chair with arms. The reason she was unable to move was because her arms were firmly tied to the arms of the chair, and her ankles were also secured, tied beneath the chair so that her legs bent uncomfortably under her.

"About time too!" the disgruntled male voice behind her replied and suddenly Ruth recognised it.

"Robin? Robin Henderson? It's you?"

"Yes it certainly is." He moved round from behind the chair to where Ruth could see him.

"What's is going on?" Ruth said angrily, "Where am I and why am I tied up like this?"

"Don't you recognise this room? I was told that you had really enjoyed yourself in here only recently." He scowled at her, his mouth curled in a contemptuous sneer. "In fact, that's what gave me such a great idea."

"What idea? What are you talking about?" As she spoke, Ruth began to take in her surroundings. They were in a large room, evidently, because she couldn't properly see the walls or ceiling; her eyes were still not focusing properly, and in any case, the chair in which she sat was at the centre of a pool of light and the outer edges of the room were in darkness. Still, the room had a familiar feel to it, an indefinable atmosphere that struck a chord in her memory. Then the penny dropped! She was in the main hall of Damocles Priory, the room where she had been so embarrassingly beaten and abused by the Reverend Mould!

"What am I doing here? Untie me at once!"

"If you promise to behave, I will ask Madam Karabengse to untie you. We restrained you only so that you wouldn't fall and hurt yourself as you were being brought here. In any case you can't go anywhere. Kim and Luc will see to that."

Mention of the staff brought fresh questions to Ruth's mind, as well as some answers. She now remembered that she had been dimly aware of Kim and Luc at some point. The realisation that she had been forcibly abducted, and that there were quite a number of people involved, came as a shock, although at this point she was more angry and indignant than frightened.

"Untie me at once! I don't know what you are playing at but if you release me immediately, at least I promise to put a good word in for you."

Robin laughed, sardonically. "That's good of you, Miss Jamieson. I'm sorry but you are in no position to demand anything. You are completely in my power and don't you forget it! We are not at school now and you have no authority here. I own Damocles Priory and, right now, Miss Jamieson, I own you. Although that could well change in the near future."

"What the hell are you talking about? Where is the Reverend Mould?"

"That old fool? I sent him packing. You surely didn't think he owned this set-up?" Robin laughed again. "You got that so wrong. My father bought this place years ago and set up Mould to run it because he liked the sound of his disciplinary ideas. However I don't think my father and the good Reverend were quite on the same wavelength. Dad decided to make some money out of this Active Learning Course but at the same time have a little fun. When I saw some of the video recordings Mould made I began to get very interested myself." He paused and chuckled. "And when I saw the video he made when you were here, Miss Jamieson, I asked Dad if I could run the place for him. He wanted me to start running a business as part of my education anyway, so it was easy to persuade him."

Seeing the look of horror on Ruth's face, he paused and went to the table, the self-same table that Mould had used for his lectures.

"I see you didn't know about the video recordings - you are very photogenic by the way, Miss Jamieson - but dad had this whole room wired for sound and fitted out with hidden cameras. Mould wasn't too happy at first but he was a hired servant and did as he was told. That's how I first became interested in the possibilities of this place. Some of the tapes made here were circulating at school, and I started to think how we could expand the commercial possibilities.

"So Madam Karabengse and I came to a little arrangement. She has been keeping an eye on things here for some time now and, in return, I fed her with the details of some of the more attractive course members - dead easy to obtain from my father's files. Then she, Kim and Luc made offers to these girls which...let's just say...they couldn't refuse. You are next on their list by the way, Miss Jamieson, but I am going to have my little bit of fun with you first."

He made a sign to Madam Karebangse, who knelt at Ruth's feet and started to untie her ankles. "What sort of an offer?" Ruth could not take in the seriousness of her situation and still spoke to Robin as if he were her pupil, rather than as a full-grown and rather evil young man.

"Why, an offer of employment, of course. Madam Karabengse's family runs a whole chain of gentlemen's entertainment clubs back home in Thailand. They are always on the look-out for talent. Of course, it doesn't pay very well but the accommodation is free and I'm told you get to meet the strangest variety of people - all in the most intimate circumstances, I'm told."

Shakily Ruth stood up. She immediately wished she had not, and sat down again quickly, her head swimming and her stomach churning. "Oh God, I feel sick."

"Go with her, Nicky, see that she doesn't do anything stupid. You go too, Madam K." Nicky and the housekeeper helped Ruth to her feet again. "Go with them. I should be quick about it; you look a very funny colour and if you make a mess in the hall, Madam K will take great pleasure in making you clear it up."

Ruth felt too ill to argue and meekly allowed herself to be shepherded to the toilet.

Ruth was grateful that Nicky and the stone-faced Madam K allowed her some privacy while she cleaned herself up. She took her time, sitting on the toilet seat until the waves of dizziness passed, and then splashed herself liberally with cold water from the sink to clear her head. After some five minutes had elapsed, Madam K's patience became exhausted and she rattled the door handle angrily. Ruth decided it would not be a good idea to antagonise her captors at this stage, since she could see no immediate prospect of escape. She decided to bide her time; go along with whatever she was told to do, and hope that an opportunity would present itself. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she opened the door.

Nicky and Madam K had been standing close guard at the door, and as soon as Ruth emerged, the housekeeper grabbed her by the arm and began to push her, quite roughly, back toward the main hall. "You took too much time," she snapped at Ruth. "You better not do that when you are my property. You will learn obedience very quickly or it will be the worse for you."

"Don't you think this charade has gone far enough?" Ruth decided to work on Nicky. "You and Robin have had your fun but now it's time to stop before you get into really serious trouble."

"You be quiet!" Madam K gave Nicky no time to answer. "Master Robin will be very angry if you talk with Miss Nicky like that." Nicky looked embarrassed and confused, but kept quiet. Ruth saw that any further attempt to persuade the girl, certainly while Madam K was around, would be futile.

As the three women re-entered the main hall, Ruth's attention was drawn to the sound of a heavy object being dragged across the floor. She saw that the noise was being created by Luc and Kim; they were dragging the birching bench, which had so fascinated Ruth on her last visit to Damocles Priory, into a more central position. Robin Henderson was supervising the work and, as he saw the trio approach, he gestured to the two stewards to stand aside.

"I believe that you were quite interested in this little toy when you came here last." He leered at Ruth. "That fool Mould made do with only one of his improvisations for his lecture, but we are going to put that right this evening. You should be pleased; we are going to complete your education."

"What do you mean?" The question was superfluous but Ruth had to have it spelled out, to satisfy both the fears and the cravings which were fighting for dominance in her mind at that moment.

"It's quite simple. You were instrumental in causing Nicky and me a lot of pain. Worse, you humiliated us as well. So, we are going to show you what it's like, to educate you so that you will never put someone else in that position. Not that you are likely ever again to be able to do so. After Nicky and I have caned your backside till you howl for mercy, I am going to let Madam K and her brothers give you some basic training for the new job they have lined up for you in Thailand. You had better learn the lessons quickly because your place on the plane is already booked and, if you do not perform well enough to satisfy your future employers, believe me, a sore arse will be the least of your worries!"

Ruth knew from his expression that he was not joking. This spoilt brat, for so she still thought of him, had enough money and enough power to do just about anything he wanted with her. The anticipation of what that might involve fuelled both her fears and her perverse excitement.

She looked at Nicky, hoping against hope that her former pupil might somehow be prepared to change sides, even at the eleventh hour. No such luck. Nicky was looking a little flushed, doubtless excited at the prospect of what was to come, but she showed absolutely no signs of wanting to assist Ruth in her plight.

I'm not going to let them see me beg, thought Ruth, defiantly, I'm damned if I will.

"All right," She looked Robin straight in the eye. "You seem to have the upper hand at the moment, though I can assure you that you will regret what you are doing to me. So what do you want me to do?"

"You can show me a little humility for a start," he sneered, coldly. "So you can start by getting your clothes off. Strip! Everything off. Right now!"

"Go to hell!"

"I won't ask you again. I'll just let Kim and Luc do it for you. So take your clothes off now!"

Ruth saw the two stewards stiffen as their names were mentioned. Which would be worse? Being seen to submit so easily, or to be forcibly stripped naked? The very fact of her abduction had demonstrated that she was not strong enough to defend herself against the two of them, so resisting would serve no useful purpose. Reluctantly, Ruth put her hands to the buttons of her blouse.

"That's better. Very sensible." Robin taunted her.

Slowly, one by one, Ruth undid the buttons, frantically wondering how she could retain some dignity or modesty in this situation. Trying her hardest to appear nonchalant, she slipped the blouse off her shoulders and placed it on the table in front of Robin Henderson. What next, she wondered. Bra or skirt? She decided on the skirt. Her underwear, both top and bottom, was quite modestly chaste. Maybe, just maybe, by some desperate miracle, the cavalry would arrive in time to rescue her from further humiliation. As slowly as possible. she undid the zip and waist button of the skirt and let it slide to the floor.

"Pick it up and put it on the table."

To be so instructed by one of her own pupils when wearing only her underclothes and a pair of ankle socks, was more humiliating to Ruth than she could ever have imagined. Worse was to follow. As she stepped away from the table, she knew that everyone in the room was watching her.

"Now the rest, and be sure you put each garment neatly on the table with the others. You've told us about being tidy often enough. Start with your bra, if you please."

Ruth felt herself go hot all over. She looked around desperately, but there was nothing she could do, no way out. She reached behind her back and released the clip of her bra. For the first time in her life she wished her breasts were smaller. Although by no means overlarge, as she slipped the straps off her shoulders, her breasts seemed to have almost developed a life of their own. Freed now from the constraint of her bra, they seemed to be jiggling with the slightest movement, her nipples hard and erect. Every eye in the room seemed to be on her as she placed the bra on the table. With an immense effort of will, she resisted the temptation to try and cover herself with her arms. To do so would be an admission of the shame she felt and , in any case, would only draw more attention to her body.

"Nice tits, Miss Jamieson," Robin said, sardonically, "you have a lot to be proud of."

She swallowed hard, trying to blank out his remarks, then lifted a foot off the floor and began to roll down a sock.

"Leave the socks. Get your panties off next."

A tremor in his voice betrayed Robin's excitement and triggered one last spark of resistance in Ruth. She looked at the youth with all the contempt she could muster.

"Go to hell! I won't strip for you any more. You'll just have to accept me as I am"

She knew as soon as the words had left her lips that her bravado was doomed to failure and that it had been a mistake to provoke him, but pride had got the better of her.

"Hold her arms!" A lifelong experience of getting his own way had given Robin Henderson a distinct tone of authority, which even his excitement could not diminish.

The two stewards jumped to obey. In seconds , Ruth found herself firmly held by a burly Thai on each arm. There was nothing she could do; they held her with hands like steel grabs and her attempts at struggling simply made the grips on her arms more painful.

"Madam Karabengse, do the honours please."

The hard-faced woman stepped behind Ruth, who redoubled her struggles as she felt the woman's hands at her hips.

Robin was staring, deliberately insultingly, at the area of Ruth's crotch, as Madam K inserted her thumbs in the waistband of Ruth's panties and slowly rolled them down over her hips. As the descending garment reached her crotch, exposing the lips of her sex, Ruth ceased to struggle, realising it was hopeless. Robin continued to stare intently as the panties descended to her ankles.

He examined her from top to toe, his gaze lingering between her legs before rising to her breasts, which he studied for some seconds.

"Very nice," he said with a grin, "very nice indeed!"

Somehow, the fact that she had been allowed to retain just her ankle socks made her nakedness all the more humiliating.

"Now, Miss Jamieson, are you going to to make us do this the hard way or the easy way? The end result will be the same, I assure you."

"Let - me - go!" Each syllable was an effort as she tried to fight back tears.

"Oh you need to do better than that. I will ask you again. Will you cooperate or do we have to force you?"

The iron grips on her arms gave Ruth no chance.

"Let me go. I'll do what you want."

"Very well, that's much better. Mount the bench then, please. I'm going to enjoy this."

Ruth turned to the birching bench, kicking her panties free from her ankles as she did so. Now that she knew she was about to experience its delights for real, it seemed more sinister than when the Reverend Mould had explained its use, such a short time before. Gingerly she approached it and placed herself between the two horizontal members, lifting her right leg to kneel on the bench. Taking a grip on the padded crossbar to steady herself, she lifted her left leg on to the other bench and knelt, just as if she was in church preparing to pray. Except, she thought wildly, I don't usually pray stark-naked with my legs wide open!

Feeling a fumbling around her feet, she looked over her shoulder to see Kim and Luc securing her ankles to the bench with broad leather straps. The job done, the two men approached on either side, each grabbing an arm as they did so.

"Bend right over the bench please, Miss Jamieson. It's no good struggling, and we don't want to hurt you - at least, not yet" Robin chuckled at his little joke.

Ruth allowed herself to be pulled forward, her arms outstretched. The coarse padding of the crossbar rasped across her naked belly as her body was pulled taut. The two men efficiently secured her wrists to the far end of the bench before stepping away. Ruth tugged at her bonds, but there was no give anywhere.

"We'll have the centre strap on as well, please, Madam K. I don't want her wriggling to spoil my aim."

As another, wider, leather strap was secured over her back, just above her waist, Ruth shivered at the hopelessness of her situation. Splayed into a broad X her body was stretched and not very comfortable. Her groin was taking her full weight, grinding into the rough padding of the crossbar, and she suddenly experienced a most unexpected sensation in her pussy, which was becoming distinctly moist.

With her legs spread wide apart, she knew that everyone standing behind her must have a clear view of her most intimate parts, and this knowledge did nothing to reduce her body's sexual reactions. She hung her head, partly from shame and partly because it was uncomfortable to keep her neck bent upwards. Looking down she could see her breasts, the still button-hard nipples pointing at the floor

"I think it's traditional to say that this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you"

Robin's voice was ahead of her and Ruth lifted her head with an effort, to see that he was standing directly in front of her.

"Isn't that the kind of crap you schoolteachers usually trot out? Well you're going to discover its just not true."

He was holding a long cane in his hands, the first time Ruth had seen such an instrument since she had been brought back to Damocles Priory. She guessed he must have hidden it so as not to alarm her before, making the surprise effect all the greater.

"Are you beginning to feel the embarrassment and fear that poor Nicky felt? Particularly when that scum Fullerton finished your job for you? Are you enjoying showing off your cunt and arsehole to all and sundry, Miss Jamieson? Are you wondering if this is really going to hurt as much as you fear? Well let me tell you it's going to be a whole lot worse!"
Oh dear. Ruth doesn't seem too happy, does she. Although she does enjoy a good spanking, and she was curious about birching, so maybe it won't be all bad. I will miss the Reverend Mould, though.
From Hermione's Heart