Monday, November 20, 2017

Thank you!

Another Love our Lurkers celebration has come and gone, and it was so much fun! I would like to thank all the bloggers who participated and all the silent readers from around the globe who came out of the shadows to speak.

Let's do it again next year.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, November 18, 2017

We Love our Lurkers!

It's here! That day we've been waiting for all year long has finally arrived! No, not Christmas, it's Love our Lurkers Day. Well, "Days" actually, because we celebrate our lurkers over a two-day period in order to give everyone a chance to participate. The tradition was started by Bonnie, the queen of spanking bloggers, a dozen years ago, and it's been going strong ever since.

If you are a silent reader who has never dared to leave a comment, now is your chance. We know you're out there, so don't be shy! You are among friends here. You may remain anonymous if you wish, or use a pen name. What should you say? That's entirely up to you.  "Hello" is fine. Or tell me what country you live in. I know I have readers in most of the countries in the world.

Scroll down to see the list of blogs participating in this year's Love Our Lurkers festivities. These bloggers all want to hear from you, so please pay them a visit. Some bloggers are putting a second LOL post and some bloggers are joining in on the second day, so scroll waaay down to see what's new on Saturday.

If you're a blogger and want to jump in and take part, please leave a comment below so I can link your blog too. It's never too late to join us.

Who's Loving our Lurkers on Friday?
The Continued JourneyHeart and Soul
Ludwig's Rohrstock-PalastA Place to Share
An English RoseThis Whole Thing
New BeginningsOur Bottoms Burn
Downunder DreamingEveryday Spankings
Ella Ever AfterOur Sweeter Approach to Life
Cassie's SpaceFondlers Anonymous
A Reluctant BitchFlorida Dom's Corner
Rosie's Are RedNew Twist, After all These Years
Giggles, Grins and ReflectionsConsensual Spanking
Eric51Amy49Spanking Minnesota
Old Fashioned GirlDisciplined Husbands Forum
Collected SubmissionsDaddyCat and kitten
L'heure BleueBlondie's Blog
Being Sirs Pet

Who's Loving our Lurkers on Saturday?
The Continued JourneyA Place to Share
Ludwig's Rohrstock-PalastDownunder Dreaming
Giggles, Grins and ReflectionsThe Canery
Eric51Amy49Fondlers Anonymous
Spanking MinnesotaJames Stephenson
Old Fashioned GirlEveryday Spankings
My Bottom SmartsGlenmore's Spanking Tales

From Hermione's Heart

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

From the Top Shelf - In a Mist, Chapter 10

 Our schedule is a bit mixed up this week because of the upcoming Love our Lurkers days, but don't worry, you won't have to go without this week's installment of In a Mist.

The story so far:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9

This is a follow-up to last week's revelation of Lennox's love of music and Elizabeth's introduction to jazz. They are spending quite a cozy afternoon together, but watch out, Mr. Lennox! Elizabeth is still as incorrigible as ever and she puts them both in danger.

In a Mist Chapter 10 - Elizabeth leads Lennox into danger

Later on the rain stopped. As they made their way back to the house, Elizabeth looked up at the brightening sky and saw a rainbow. Gracefully arched, it seemed to her like a girl in a multi-coloured dress bent over for discipline. Up there in the sky, swallows, like aerial scene-shifters, were chasing away the clouds, pecking maniacally at their vapourous skins.

"I shall take Mr. Lennox down to the beach," she told her guardian during lunch. He murmured his approval of the outing, glad that Lennox would be there to keep an eye on her.

"Watch her, Mr. Lennox, she's a handful" he cautioned, and addressed himself once more to his soup.

"I trust you can swim, Mr. Lennox?" she queried pertly. He detected the presence of a challenge.

"Tolerably well, thank you," he answered, smiling to himself. It was as if she were searching for something she could beat him at. Had his musical skills secretly nettled her?

At least he'd been right about her in one thing. No amount of chastisement could ever subdue a nature such as hers. In fact it seemed almost to thrive on punishment. He was glad of that. The last thing he wanted was to break her spirit.

After lunch she waited impatiently for him in the hall. The jazz had acted upon her nervous system like a drug and she was in the mood for courting danger. She wanted to show him her true colours. She'd taken her whippings bravely, more bravely than most boys would have done. Now there was noting left on earth to terrify her. She'd survived her baptism of fire.

She was shamelessly flaunting a daring two-piece swimsuit in pale blue cotton, the pants only just covering her cane-marks. Ove it she wore a knee-length white bathing-robe and carried her towel in a light canvas grip. She was barefoot.

Lennox joined her in cream slacks, sports shirt, and sandals.

"Where's your costume?" she demanded almost petulantly.

"I'm wearing it underneath. Don't fuss, girl, else you'll get a spanking!" She blushed and put her finger to her lips beseechingly, embarrassed lest the servants should hear him. Would he really do it to her there in the hallway, in full view of anyone that might come along? She knew him well enough to know that he would.

"Come on, there's a secret way down to the beach over the cliffs," she said. "Are you afraid of heights?"

He shook his head. Again that slight edge of challenge in her voice.

She was off, speeding across the lawn towards the outer wall with Lennox following, trying his best to preserve some dignity. They scrambled over the old dry stone wall. The grey stones were warm in the sunlight which flooded the red land below.

They dodged the ruddle pools and ran downhill towards the headland. The tumbledown walls gave way to rugged hedgerows. The lane deepened like a tunnel below sharply sloping fields. Ahead of them were the white breakers of the sea.

Elizabeth arrived at the edge of the cliff and waited for Lennox to catch her up. She looked up at him triumphantly, as though she'd just beaten him in a race. "Now it's my turn to show you things," she said, grinning devilishly. She pointed out the rocky path zig-zagging its way down the steep face.

Their descent was not without its perilous moments. At times they both started to slip and slide on the loose rock and they had to cling frantically to the roots of gorse and sloe bushes. "Watch out for adders. They mate this time of year," Elizabeth said, turning towards him so he could see she wasn't afraid. Lennox began to tread even more carefully, but he saw no snakes. Far below them the empty beach spread out flat and golden for miles.

They were hot and sticky when they reached the bottom. They clambered over the great rocks fallen from the sea-worn edge and leapt onto the wet sand.

"Race you to the water!" she cried, flinging off her robe and sprinting seawards, her dancing feet kicking up a storm of sand behind her,

"Not fair!" he shouted, caught in the act of taking down his slacks and unbuttoning his shirt. By the time he could start after her she was already swimming effortlessly amid the waves.

They stayed in the sea for a good half hour, testing each other out with races and crazy games. Elizabeth dared him to swim out with her to a small rock in the middle of the bay. When she reached it she perched on top of it, like a mermaid, while he swam round and round her, finally grabbing her leg and hauling her screaming back into the water.

Because of his athletic build he was by far the more powerful swimmer of the two. He could overtake and out-distance her with ease, and soon she was forced to acknowledge it. "Is there nothing I can do better than you?" she cried vexation as they rested, bobbing in the water.

"That is no way to speak to your tutor, Miss," he warned teasingly. "Have a care, lest I decide to take my cane to your bottom when we get back!" He seized her by the ankle and submerged her completely.

"B-but you said you wouldn't punish me at weekends," she spluttered, coming up for air when he released her.

"Ah, but I didn't really know you then, Elizabeth." He grinned hugely, relishing his masculine ascendancy over the girl. "Knowing you as I do now, I'd have no hesitation in taking down your costume and putting you over my knee here and now if I felt you deserved it."

Elizabeth pulled a face and swam quickly out of reach. Yet part of her yearned for him to do just that.

The tide had turned and was starting to go out. It was no longer safe to bathe. "Race you back," he said. This time he won easily.

She flopped down on the beach at his feet like an exhausted puppy and lay there on her tummy, idly tracing pictures on the wet sand. Lennox saw the cane weals peeping out from either side of her buttocks where the gusset of the swimsuit had rucked up. Like a salty eel his penis stiffened and rose. "Stand up, Elizabeth, and I'll towel you off."

He rubbed and pummeled her dripping body with sadistic glee, paying special attention to the tops of her thighs. Then he began to use the towel like a whip, flicking her playfully just below her buttocks, catching her on a tender spot.

"OUCH! PIG!" she squealed histrionically, then glared at him, arms akimbo, daring him to punish her for saying it. Despite his good-humoured warnings she didn't feel in the slightest bit under his jurisdiction, out there in the open air. The schoolroom seemed a million miles away.

"Right, Elizabeth, you're in for it now!" he snapped, advancing on her, bent on retribution.

"You'll have to catch me first!" she cried, taking to her heels with an angry Lennox in pursuit. But instead of making for the sea-shore she veered to the left towards the mouth of the river Lym. Half an hour before it had been smooth and sluggish, but the tide had turned and a swift current was running.

He lost his footing on the slippery sand  and fell awkwardly, twisting an ankle. Cursing both himself and the girl he struggled to his feet, just in time to see her dive into the swirling waters.

The tide had turned in earnest now. The river-tide was racing out to sea. It looked tremendously strong. Lennox doubted whether even a powerful swimmer like he could do battle with it, let alone a mere slip of a girl.

"Elizabeth! Come back!" he yelled at the top of his voice, but the tidal current had already fastened on her, sending her spinning helplessly towards the churning vortex where the river met the sea.

He limped the few remaining yards to the river bank and plunged in. Once in the water his twisted ankle magically ceased to trouble him. He swam smoothly and confidently out into the middle. Entering the mainstream of the rushing current he swam with it and quickly overtook the girl.

She had completely panicked. She was flailing her arms wildly and screaming with terror, swallowing in the process getting great mouthfuls of water.

He slapped her resoundingly across the face to subdue her. Then seizing her from behind he gripped her in an arm-lock under her chin and began doggedly to tow her to safety out of the current's reach. He couldn't fight it head on by swimming against it so instead he tried to swim across it in the direction of the opposite bank which was by now the nearer of the two.

The desperate struggle lasted an eternity. He sobbed for breath, his lungs nearly bursting with the effort. Elizabeth lay limp and silent in the crook of his arm. Then at last they were free of the current and within reach of the shore.

His feet touched bottom. Raising himself he flung her roughly onto the river bank where she lay spluttering and weeping. His compassion for her was as nothing compared to his bitter anger that she had so stupidly endangered the lives of both of them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her teeth chattering with cold. She felt wretched. As her fear ebbed away she experienced a longing to be whipped.

"You're sorry?" he echoed flatly, flicking the wet brown hair out of his eyes and blowing his nose with his hands. He stood up and gazed around. Nothing but hump-backed sand dunes covered with coarse clumps of marram grass. A couple of hundred yards away was the swollen estuary, Their clothes and belongings lay where they'd left them--safe, intact, and completely out of reach.

"How many miles is it home--from this side of the river?" he asked grimly, clenching his hands to prevent himself from seizing her in his anger and shaking her bodily. She was still in a state of dazed shock--he would delay his punishment till later.

"Twelve...maybe more," she replied, chilled to the bone as she struggled wearily to her feet. "The nearest bridge is seven miles up-river...I'm so sorry!" The full realisation of what had actually happened began to dawn on her. He'd risked his life for hers. They could have both been drowned. She dissolved into grateful, guilty tears.

As she began to cry his anger evaporated into pity. Her anguished sobbings tore at his heart-strings. "Don't cry, you're safe now,"  he murmured, taking her hands in his. She regarded him in mute adoration then planted a kiss full on his lips. Confused and aroused, he drew back, ashamed of his feelings. She blushed and surreptitiously adjusted the seat of her swimsuit pants to make herself decent again.

The sun had vanished behind leaden clouds. From somewhere up among the dunes a curlew cried. They were cold, wet, and half-naked. "We'd better make a start then, if we hope to get back before nightfall," he sighed, frowning at the change in the weather.

"Why don't we borrow a boat from someone to get us back across the river?" she suggested suddenly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

How typical of a girl to say a stupid thing like that, he thought screwing up his face in exasperation. "I can't see a single living creature in this god-forsaken spot--let alone a blasted boat!" he growled, slapping his sides resoundingly to keep warm.

"But the village is only just around the next bend. I think Mrs. Farquarson has a boat--"

"Who?" he inquired testily.

"Mrs. Diana Farquarson--the femme fatale of Lymchurch!" she laughed. "She's terribly mysterious and glamorous. About thirty-five, divorced, awfully rich. There's been heaps of gossip and scandal going around about her in the village ever since she settled here. It seems she's had a string of gentlemen friends--some of them not very nice by all accounts." She frowned. "I've always thought there was something rather cruel about her. You can see it in her eyes."

The more she chattered on excitedly about Diana Farquarson, the more visibly interested Lennox became in her--so much so that eventually she grew jealous and wished she'd never mentioned the woman's name.

"How did you come to meet this lady?" he asked her curiously, aware of her guardian's detestation of visitors at Lymchurch House.

 "She has a daughter, Louisa, two years younger than me," she replied more guardedly. "We used to play together when we were little. Tomms would drive me there in the car."

"And you say she has a boat?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Then we'll ask her for the loan of it. She can only say no."

They set off along the river bank in the direction of the village, Elizabeth growing more gloomily convinced by the minute that her tutor would succumb to the fatal attractions of Diana Farquarson. The previous night's storm had caused flooding.  Small trees and bushed uprooted by the wind and the rain had been washed downstream. He ran to the water's edge and searched among the debris, looking for a suitable rod of correction--for he hadn't forgotten that he still had a score to settle with the girl. Punishment should be dealt out swiftly and without delay. That was a maxim he always adhered to, and he saw no earthly reason in departing from it now.

He fished out a supple ash switch from the water and began to strip it of its leaves. She watched him closely, the colour draining from her face. How she feared him at that moment! She hadn't the strength to run away--even if she'd wanted to. She knew he intended to whip her, there in the open...and she was going to let him...and even love him for doing it. It was his privilege, his right--for he had saved her life out there in the turbulent river mouth and she could never begin to repay him such a colossal debt.

His face grew cruel with excitement. He knew he was perfectly justified in giving her the whipping of her life.

"Carry on walking!" he barked--and as she did so, casting fearful glances behind her, he began to beat her with the switch, across the bottom and thighs. Yelping with pain she broke into a run, but he pursued her, wielding the switch with such deadly visciousness that the backs of her thighs became tattooed with a network of bright red weals.

But he soon grew tired of attacking a moving target, for her bottom was by now wriggling and swerving so furiously that it had become maddeningly elusive. Seizing her by the waist he carried her over to where a large rock projected from the steep flank of the Lym. Guessing what was in his mind she tried to dig her heels in the sand--but he was so much stronger than her.

He bent her across the flat face of the rock and began cooly taking down her swimsuit pants. "No! Not here! Please!" she wailed, scarlet with humiliation that he would actually go so far as to bare her bottom out there in the open countryside, where anyone might chance to see her in her shameful nakedness.

Lennox's excitement rose to a fury as he planted cut after whistling cut upon the shocked girl's bare flanks. The knobby little buds on the ash stick tore her flesh. Soon the white plumpness of her cheeks was dotted with specks of blood. Had she turned to look behind her she would have glimpsed the dome of his tumescent prick rearing up like a snake above the top of his shorts.

Her yells coalesced into one continuous scream. Seagulls flocked overhead, mistaking her piercing cry for one of their own. She clawed with her nails at the granite face and jiggled her bottom frenziedly from side to side, but still the switch rose and fell--more slowly now, but with pitiless regularity.

He took grim delight in the whipping. He felt he was stripping away the layers of social convention separating him from the girl. Now she was no longer his pupil, nor he her tutor. He was conscious only of his prick and its blind urge to penetrate and possess her. Her naked rump--lewdly thrust outwards in his face--drove him nearly to the edge of insanity. He could plainly see her pussy, its trembling lips seeming to plead with him as her bottom gyrated in torment. Never before had she been blatantly exposed. It was as though she was offering herself up to him. How easily he could do it to her now, there on the riverbank.

Then suddenly his mood changed. The glorious elation vanished and he remembered once again who they were--an innocent young girl and a tutor twelve years her senior, entrusted with grave responsibilities for her welfare.  With a bitter cry of frustration he flung the ash switch into the middle of the river and tried frantically to cram his stalking erection back inside his shorts.

Scooping up water in his hands he sloshed it over her crimson wealed behind to wash away all traces of blood. The salt water stung her tender flesh and she gasped and flinched.

Then when the searing agony died away she felt his fingers caress and stroke her weals, sweetly and soothingly, like the fingers of a priest at a 'laying on of hands'. She closed her tear-stained eyes and breathed deeply. What he was doing to her now was heavenly balm.

She loved him for it, near to madness.
Well now, that was quite a punishment. But what about the mysterious Diana? Will Lennox fall under her spell?
From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

It's Almost Time!

Love Our Lurkers Days are coming up at the end of this week, and I want you to participate. It's the time when our silent readers are encouraged to come out of hiding and leave a comment. The details are:

What is it? Lurkers, anonymous readers, call them what you will. They are the people who read our blogs on a regular or occasional basis, but never leave a comment. On LOL Days, we encourage those people to be brave and leave a comment. Most blogs allow commenters to remain anonymous, so you never have to reveal your real identity.

Where is it? It's everywhere, but right here on this blog, I will put up a post and record the links to all bloggers who are participating in LOL Days. If you want to see who has joined in the fun, drop by here and you will see the list.

When is it? Friday, November 17 and Saturday, November 18.

What do I have to do? If you are a blogger, publish a post on November 17, encouraging your silent readers to leave a comment. "Love Our Lurkers" in the title will be helpful but not compulsory.

What do I say? Some bloggers ask questions for their lurkers to answer. Others have competitions, with a spank for every comment left. Still others only want all their readers to say hello. The important thing is to be friendly and encouraging to readers who might be apprehensive about leaving a comment. Please remember to allow anonymous comments, even if only for a day or two.

How can I help right now?
If you have not already done so, I invite you to post an advance LOL Days announcement soon, so that all your readers know about it too. Not all bloggers read this blog, and we want to be sure nobody is left out.

Here are some images you may use if you wish for your LOL Days post.

Save the image of your choice to your computer, then upload it to your post. These logos are entirely optional; you are most welcome to use any other image of your choice.

November 17 and 18 - save the dates!

From Hermione's Heart

Monday, November 13, 2017

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for November 12

Have you ever  engaged in spanking with a non-painful implement?

Sir Wendel: We went to Disney World this summer and bought a pair of the stuffed Mickey Mouse gloves. It is fun to spank her bottom with them but there is no sting and they do not cause the slightest bit of pain. Now the Mickey spatula is a different story but I’ll save that for another brunch.
We also use swimming pool noodles on each other. Again, a lot of fun but no pain or sting.

Roz: Great question Hermione, on occasion while fetching scarves etc for either blindfolds or to tie hands Rick has first attempted to spank me with them using a good flicking motion.

Katie: Hi Hermione, :) I can't think of specific things that Rob has used for this kind of spanking. There have been a few of these kinds of items, over the years, when we are being playful. We have a leather paddle with a soft fuzzy side. That doesn't hurt at all, and is fun. He's popped me a time or two, on the bottom with a decorative pillow. I love real spankings (most of them), but playful, soft ones are lots of fun, too.

Amy: One time Eric had enough of my moodiness when we were visiting relatives so when they went out to the grocery store, he told me to take off my belt because he wasn't wearing one. I had on some new pants that came with this cheap plastic "decorative" belt. Well, Eric swung that thing as hard as he could because no matter what, it did NOTHING. By the fourth swing, we were both laughing so hard, the mood changed and we had a wonderful visit.

Hermione: Ron once opened a bag of bread that had been around for a while and found green mold on a slice. He proceeded to spank me with the slice, to teach me to be more careful with expiration dates. Needless to say, it was fun and we both laughed heartily.

Thanks you for sharing those fun stories! Stay tuned for an update on this year's Love our Lurkers days!
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #202

Hello, friends. I'm glad you stopped by today for brunch. You know you're always welcome, and the more the merrier!

Today's topic came to mind as I was preparing the next chapter of In a Mist for an upcoming post. Spankings are intended to hurt, and the appropriate implement is chosen with that end in mind (no pun intended!) But sometimes an object is used for spanking that can't possibly hurt. Obviously, this would result in a playful spanking, which is often just as much fun as a real one.

Have you ever engaged in spanking with a soft or non-painful object, such as a towel, feather or food item? How did it come about and what was the object used? What was the result of this kind of spanking, and how did you feel about it?

You will have to wait until next week to find out what "soft" item Mr. Lennox used on Elizabeth, but in the meantime, leave your response as a comment below. Once everyone has had a chance to respond, I will publish a summary of our discussion.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, November 11, 2017

You Completed the Caption

Baxter: Back in the day I was a fetching 'coppertone' girl, looking at the sun, baring my naughty bum. Here I am, still looking at the sun, with a bigger, yet still naughty bum, always hoping for a spanking.

KDPierre: Hilda: "Look, Sparky, you can almost see the 'moon'."
Sparky (thinking): 'If those daisies keep slipping, I think there will be a 'full moon' before long.'

Dave: Plumber, on vacation.

Hands63: Behold, the crack of dawn!

Anon 1: Hilda, pointing at the clouds: "See that beautiful reddish color on the dog's belly? Well that's the color my bottom's going to be after my boyfriend puts me over his lap and paddles me for wearing this daisy bikini out in public and showing off my ample rear end to everybody who walks by."

Dr. Ken: "And if you keep sticking your cold nose where it doesn't belong, you'll be joining him in doggie heaven!"

Anon 2: I just wish a man would chase me like that and then put me over his knee and give me a good sound spanking once he catches me.

Do you think if I stand here long enough with my bottom on display like this a nice gentleman will get the hint and spank me?

Anon 3: The boys followed Hilda everywhere.

The new bikinis weren’t designed for big-bottomed girls like Hilda, or were they?

Sir Wendel: Red bottom at night – Hilda’s spanking delight.
Red bottom in the morning – Damn, why did I let him spank me that hard!

Hermione: Look! See that cloud? Doesn't it look like a giant hand ready to spank me? Aww, c'mon Rover, where's your imagination? It does not look like a giant bone.
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, November 10, 2017

Friday FAIL

Some jobs are most dangerous than others, and safety precautions are imperrative. But some poeple just don't seem to care, and put their lives in needless jeopardy.

They all deserve a good spanking as a reminder to be more careful, don't you think?
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Complete the Caption

This is my last 'Hilda' picture, and I think it's very sweet. In fact, she just might be spanked for being so sweet. What do you think?

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

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

A heads-up for Love our Lurkers 12

It's time once again to celebrate our silent readers. Once a year, bloggers encourage their lurkers to come out of the shadows and leave a comment. If you often read this and other spanking blogs, but are too shy to leave a comment, this will be your chance to make your presence known.

Spanko bloggers will love their lurkers on:

Friday, November 17 and Saturday, November 18.

I will post a reminder and will have more information for you next week.

From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

From the Top Shelf - In a Mist, Chapter 9

The story so far:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8

Today's chapter was something of a puzzle to me when I first read it. There's plenty of talk about music but sadly, no spanking, yet the prose is exquisitely erotic. There are hints of sensuality scattered throughout, and the relationship between Lennox and Elizabeth reaches a new level.
In a Mist Chapter 9 - Elizabeth discovers a new side of Lennox and is morally corrupted

By Friday the wind had freshened and was now blowing in from the sea, bringing gusty squalls and thick patches of mist. The sun disappeared for good beneath low banks of grey cloud and it began to drizzle.

Elizabeth was awakened on Saturday morning by the rain beating in through her open bedroom window. She groaned in vexation, for she had set her heart on spending the day down by the sea in the company of Arthur Lennox.

But now, as she stood at the window wiping the sleep from her eyes, she saw that the whole of the seashore was blanketed dismally in mist. The trees and grass were lank and sodden with rain. Deepening puddles lay everywhere upon the drive. The only good thing about the day was the sweet fragrance of summer fecundity enveloping the garden.

She was about to close the window and put on some clothes when she saw Lennox, in macintosh and galoshes, emerge from the hallway below, carrying a small leather case.

He walked rapidly across the squelching lawns towards the thatched summerhouse in the woods beyond the low outer wall. He scaled the wall easily and entered the summerhouse.

Inquisitively she remained at the open window, staring at the summerhouse, its tarred-board walls adorned by criss-crosses of quaintly rustic logs.She watched and waited, heedless of the rain soaking her face and her hair. She put her elbows on the sill and, supporting her head in her hands, wriggled the tight seat of her pyjama trousers in restless curiosity. Her well-whipped bottom felt alive with exciting sensations. She was torn between the desire to go back to bed in order to play naughty games with herself, and the equally imperative urge to discover what business Mr. Lennox had, alone in the summerhouse on such a dreary wet morning.

Then floating across from the old wooden shack came the strident cry of a horn, its clear bell-like notes almost tripping each other up in their breathless speed--yet at the same time imbued with a strange poignant melancholy. a cascading waterfall of sound, the liquid flow punctuated by peculiar bent notes, slurs, growls, and dizzy leaps. Like the heads of fish darting up confusedly above the surface  of the rushing water.

Above all, it was infectiously rhythmic, even in its abrupt staccato runs. Half awake though she was, Elizabeth found herself tapping her feet to it. She had never heard anything like it before in her life and felt drawn  towards it, as if it were a magnet.

Throwing on her dressing gown, she ran downstairs and into the rain, heedless of anything but the music. In her dash for the summerhouse, she almost tripped and fell several times on the slippery leaves, for she was eager to catch her extraordinary tutor in the middle of the dazzling high-note piece he was now playing with such fire and bravura.

Bursting in on him, she was amazed to find Lennox seated cross-legged in his shirtsleeves on the old oak picnic table, a silver cornet raised to his lips, his eyes tightly closed in fierce concentration as the passage he was playing ended in a thrilling crescendo.

Only when he'd finished and he heard the enthusiastic applause of one dainty pair of hands, did he realise he had an audience,

"Elizabeth, how you startled me!" he said, catching sight of her and blushing almost guiltily.

"Mr. Lennox, how you startled me!" Elizabeth exclaimed, eyes brimming with admiration. "You never said anything about being musical--let alone being a musical genius!"

He blushed with embarrassment. "I'm just a novice--an amateur. I never get the time to be anything else--and as for being a genius, I'm afraid I'm something of a fraud. That last piece I played was copied from a gramophone record by Louis Armstrong--"West End Blues"--except," he added in wry self-deprecation, "he plays it an octave higher!"

"Louis who?" she asked earnestly, eager to learn but baffled by all the bewildering technicalities. "Is he some new French composer?"

He laughed wholeheartedly. "I can see I shall have to include one or two lessons on jazz music in our school curriculum! Louis Armstrong is an American negro--and the finest jazz trumpet player in the world."

"So that is jazz!" Elizabeth murmured with some degree of awe. "My guardian doesn't approve of jazz. He stays it is morally corrupting--"

"Like silk underwear?" he interposed with a wicked little grin. She blushed and grinned too.

"--he says it is primitive jungle music, unfit for a refined young lady's ears."

"I guessed as much," he replied, frowning. "Most of his generation share that erroneous opinion. That is why I took the precaution of practising out of doors away from the house."

"If that's jazz, then I think it's beautiful," Elizabeth said, bursting with pride at possessing such a remarkably talented tutor. Here again was that carefree almost boyish side to his nature that he kept so firmly locked away during school time, but which she'd caught fleetingly after he'd spanked her on the first day.

'Please will you show me how to play your cornet?" she begged excitedly. He gave her the silver horn and showed her how to hold it correctly in her left hand, placing the first three fingers of her right hand over the valves. When their fingers touched he had to briefly turn away and draw breath, to fight back his longing for her. Her slender body still seemed to exude the sensual langour of sleep, and the poignant eroticism of a young girl's dreams were reflected in her eyes.

He coughed and suddenly became starchily pedantic. "The first finger alters the note by a tone, the second by a half-tone, and the third by a tone and a half," he announced, much to Elizabeth's mystification.

Then he got her to hold the instrument to her mouth and blow, with her tongue between her lips. The resulting noise, a loud inelegant raspberry, startled and embarrassed Elizabeth, and had Lennox practically on his knees with laughter.

She lowered the cornet from her lips and started to laugh too. The cord around her dressing gown came undone, and for the first time Lennox noticed she was still in her pyjamas.

"Why, you're not even dressed," he frowned, reproaching himself for not noticing earlier. This was precisely the sort of compromising situation he had sworn so vigilantly to guard against. He must learn to be more circumspect with the girl. Dammit, they were out here alone together, she was in just a pair of scanty pyjamas! If anyone from the house happened to see them--!

"Go back in and put on some proper clothes at once!" he ordered her brusquely. But she looked so crestfallen then that he relented and added, "Tell you what, after you've dressed and had your breakfast, I shall fetch out my little portable gramophone and play you some records--just to show you what real jazz sounds like. Bur mind--" he put a warning finger to his lips, "--and not a word from this to your guardian!"

"Not a word--I promise--you dear, dear man!" she flung her arms around her amazed and disconcerted tutor, kissed him clumsily on the cheek, and scampered back through the poring rain into the house.

Am I doing the right thing, he wondered anxiously for a moment then, shrugging his shoulders, he picked up the cornet and began to play again, this time more gently and lyrically--with all the reflective sadness of his idol, Leon "Bix" Beiderbecke.

The little silver horn wound its way through a slow, elegiac blues. He played it with the pensive fragility of a man walking on eggshells. It complemented his sudden mood of mournful introspection, for he knew he was becoming desperately smitten with Elizabeth Harker, the girl he had been engaged to tutor. The rain, drumming endlessly against the summerhouse window pane, made his blues sound even sadder.

He stopped playing and packed the cornet away in its case. While doing so, he sang softly to himself one of his favourite songs, Bessie Smith's "Careless Love", changing the words in a couple of places to fit his own predicament.

Half an hour or so later, Elizabeth returned looking exquisitely pretty in a long macintosh and rain-bonnet. Lennox had already been to fetch his slightly battered old wind-up gramophone and a thick pile of black shellac ten inch records. He wound the mechanism with the cranked handle, selected "West End Blues" by Louis Armstrong's Hot Seven and placed it on the turntable.

"Listen," he commanded, pointing at the revolving disc, as Armstrong's long bravure cadenza leaped out at them. The wild resonant music transfixed her with its powerful energy. The trumpet's shouting exuberance, the shrill wails of the clarinet, the earthy growls and swooping glissandos of the trombone touched a nerve deep within her.

She felt in love with the names as well as the music.

"This is 'Steamboat Stomp' by Jelly Roll Morton's Red Hot Peppers," he announced, lowering the needle onto the second record which began, to her amazement and delight, with the authentic blast of a steamboat whistle and a husky negro voice calling "Board!"

He played her other records by Jelly Roll Morton, including "The Chant", "Black Bottom Stomp" (the title of which made her giggle uncontrollably), "The Pearls" and "Doctor Jazz". By this time Elizabeth had reached such a pitch of excitement that she jumped up from her seat, tore off her macintosh and rain-bonnet, and began to dance. She had on a cream finely knit woollen dress that hugged her hips and drew attention to her trim little figure as she swayed and shimmied in time to the music.

Lennox srudied her every movement, noting how she arched her back and wiggled her bottom in naive unawareness of the effect that it had on him. Her child-like innocence made it all the more erotic.

When it was time to change the record, he flicked through his collection and made a supremely apt choice, putting on Bessie Smith's version of "Sister Kate".

An old-fashioned summerhouse in a sequestered English garden was an incongruous setting, to say the least, for a bawdy blues that had originated in the brothels of New Orleans--but Elizabeth undulated and wriggled in such sensual abandonment to it that Lennox shamelessly found himself daydreaming tht she was really some pale Creole beauty bestowing her favours upon him--his amourous plaything, his doxy--to mistreat and abuse according to his whim.

All his dark desires rose to the surface. He wanted to seize her, rip off all her clothes, and feed his lust on her naked body. He wanted to bend her over and examine, with a feeling of proud ownership, the weals he had so recently planted on her buttocks. He wanted to take her from behind--fuck her like an animal.

"Please dance with me, sir," Elizabeth implored, stretching out her arms towards him.

Lennox leaped to his feet and, grabbing her tiny waist, led her on a mad exultant rampage round and round the long narrow room until she laughed and shrieked in breathless exhilaration.  They pounded the floor with their flying feet until the old bare boards bounced and groaned. He spun her round like a top, catching her in his arms just in time to prevent her from tumbling giddily to her knees. Laughing deliriously, they improvised strange outlandish dance steps to "Doctor Jazz".

Outside it was raining hard again. Lymchurch House had disappeared from view,  obliterated by thick mist. Lennox put on record after record, and they danced until exhausted, oblivious to everything except the music and the proximity of each other's bodies.

When they had danced themselves to a standstill, he played Elizabeth a solo piano record so haunting in its fragile melancholy that she thought at first it was by a classical composer.

"Is it a Delius?"

He shook his head.


"No," he said softly. "It is Bix Beiderbecke. The piece is called 'In a Mist'. Appropriate, don't you think?" he smiled, pointing the the weather outside.

"It;s so beautiful it makes me want to cry," Elizabeth whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.

At that moment she looked so much like a little lost girl of Pre-Raphaelite days, with her sad blue eyes and her dark-blonde hair in splendid disarray, that Lennox didn't know whether to kneel down and worship her, or seize her in his arms and kiss her violently.
What do you think? Did this chapter add anything to the story?
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, November 6, 2017

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for November 5

What will spanking be like in the future?

Katie: I'm thinking that a spanking will still have to be a spanking- a spanker, and a spankee coming together. I'm going to imagine that travel will be innovative, so even if a spanker (or spankee) is away, he or she can pop on back to his or her loved one, in no time at all. The spanking is carried out. There is some mighty fine loving (or not), and then one can materialize right back to where they had been before.

Implements will change. The very best implement in my book- the hand, will still be right there, and available.

There might be supersonic spanking scopes. Able to catch feisty behavior from miles and miles away.

Roz: Hi Hermione, I think we will still spank, in fact it may be more common. Greater technology and surveillance will make it harder for a spankee to get away with any misdeeds.

I'd like to think it will still involve a spanker and spankee and that distance will no longer be a problem. However, there may be spanking machines, or maybe robots who carry out the spanking.

As for implements, these will be developed to produce the desired effect with less effort.

Fun question!

KDPierre: I don't think a lot will change for the people actually, physically doing it because its appeal has always had a 'retro-flavor' to it. So just as today we try to fetishize the 1950s/1960s spanking atmosphere, I believe people in the future will STILL be trying to recapture that same flavor.

Where I think the biggest change will occur is in people who are frustrated with a lack of compliant partners, since I think sensory digital/computer simulations will be commonplace. Even seasoned spankos with partners will probably end up using those programs on occasion to experience spanking with aliens or fantasy creatures.

Fondles: I imagine with more people travelling to far-off locations and spanker and spankee being separated by distance there will be a need for remote spanking facilities. Perhaps booths with automated spanking arms that could be activated by log-in (or fingerprint scan) when a spanking needs to be given.

Gustofur: I hope there will be a sensor that would unobtrusively detect a willing participant.

Welcome, Gustofur!

Anon: I enjoy Star Trek, Science Fiction and a common subject is that the future will be women in charge, men being the "slaves" for lack of a better word. Punishment will be public, anything from standing in the town square tell people what you did. The worst being a spanking, given by the wife, for all to see. It will be up to the wife as to how much is worn. The instrument used is once again the wife's decision. I would feel the man being spanked in public, with an erection, standing prior to the spanking getting a scolding, would deter the male from breaking the law.

Abby Williams: Hi Hermione! I'm taking the dive back into the blogging world. Good to be back (again). I'm leaning towards what Katie said above, that "a spanking will still have to be a spanking." Spanking is physical, tactile, sensual. I see humans in the future being separated from our actual senses, with music, video, information, and possibly even experiences being directly transferred into our minds. The 1995 movie Strange Days comes to mind, with a scene of a paralyzed man being given the experience of running on a beach. I think there will certainly be that type of virtual reality experience for all elements of sexuality, kink and spanking included.

That being said, it is the traditional and the sensual that I enjoy the most about spanking - a leather strap like the one Pa might have used in Little House on the Prairie, a cane or a wooden paddle that might have been used in a 19th century schoolhouse. Implements made by hand from natural materials. I would like to think that these things will carry on well into the future.

Then again, if I could "download" the full experience, the scent of leather, the hand on my lower back, the apprehension, the eventual giving in, the after-care and feeling of safety... I'd like to think I would still choose the real version, but if the experience was ultimately the same, we might take to virtual experiences just to escape whatever reality is really going to look like. Heck, given the state of affairs in the US, I'd take a virtual experience most days in the present just to escape reality, as long as I could still have the real experience with Mr. W as well.

Welcome back, Abby!

Amy: That's quite an interesting topic! With all of the talk of AI, there could be all kinds of things added to the spanking world. Didn't Ronnie just post an article about sex robots? There certainly could be spanking robots.

My hope is that with all of this technology, people remain sensual with each other and I'm going to put spanking on that front. As for discipline, the tech age has made it easier for an HOH to keep track of what/where his/her little spankee is up to. That said, it's also made it harder for privacy between the couple!

Leigh: I think spankings will always be spankings and the best implement will still be the hand and the best position over the knee.

Hermione: I predict that spanking will become a mainstream activity, enjoyed by many and understood by most. Online dating apps will include a place to put your kinky preferences, thus enabling the app to match you up with people having similar interests.

Implements will be made of light, indestructible materials that provide maximum effect with little effort on the part of the spanker. There will be a built-in adjustment so you can choose sting or thud. Spanking machines will be readily available and easily portable.

What an enthusiastic group we had at this week's brunch. See you again next week: same Bat-time, same Bat-location!
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #201

Welcome one and all to our weekly conversation about spanking.  This week I read some interesting articles predicting what life might be like in 30 or 100 years. Some ideas were fanciful—printed food, underwater cities, holidays on Mars—but others made sense, like predicting illnesses in advance and drones doing our shopping for us. That started me wondering what spankings of the future might be like.

How will spanking be different 100 years from now? What technological advances might facilitate the process? Will society be more accepting of spanking? What innovative wardrobe or implement inventions do you foresee?

Have fun with this one! Leave your response as a comment, and once everyone has had a chance to participate, I will publish a summary of our discussion.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, November 4, 2017

You Finished this Sentence

On a first date you should never say...

Dr. Ken: "I can see where you get your good looks. Does your Mom fool around?"

"Your sister is very pretty. Is she single?"

"We'll skip dessert. You don't need it."

"I hope you put out on a first date, or this happy meal is a waste of time."

Dave: "You don't look anything like your profile picture."

KDPierre: "Wanna come back to my Mom's basement? We can listen to my yodeling CDs while I show you my rash."

Ronnie: Your ex-girl friend's name instead of hers.

Fondles: "I'm so done with women and dating! It's too complicated!" (Note - this actually DID happen to me!)

Sir Wendel: "How do you like my mom’s cooking?"

Liza: "Oh no, I'm in labor and I think the contractions are five minutes apart. I don't think I can eat dinner. Can you take me to the hospital?"

Amy: "You remind me of my ex."

Anon: Anything that would normally get you spanked because you think that since you're on a first date he wouldn't dare.

Hermione: "My mom wants me home by 9:00."
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, November 3, 2017

Friday FAIL

Some people are just so dumb!

This guy's friend had no idea...

His girlfriend never knew...

I'd never want to be in this position:

This one's my favourite:

Sounds logical to me :)
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Finish this Sentence

This challenge seems to be quite popular, so I dare you to finish this sentence in any way you like:

On a first date you should never say...

Leave your finished sentence in the comments area below, and I will publish your submissions on Saturday.
From Hermione's Heart