Friday, April 20, 2018

Friday FAIL

No Complete the Caption this week, as I have been immersed in tax returns. My dogs have been helping me by sitting on my lap when I'm typing, and running off with any T4s they can reach. So  here are some excellent dog-related FAILs.

Have a great weekend!
From Hermione's Heart

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

From the Top Shelf - Heatherton Hall, chapter 3a

Let's continue with Rollin Hand's novelette, "The Ladies of Heatherton Hall". Last week, two young ladies felt the force of the Earl's paddle on their posteriors. Who will be in line for punishment this week? Read on!
A day later the cousins were back on the ferry and headed to the mainland. Now that the incident was over, Josh’s attention returned to the problem that had been foremost in the minds of them all before the ruckus in the pub—the developers and their impact upon Oakton Island.

“Let me ask you something,” said Josh as they watched the ferry pull away. “Just how is it that they can build here—especially on the beach? Who decides if they get building permits?”

“The Island Council. They decide. While my father was alive he had tremendous influence, but now .... ” She shrugged. It was a defeated look.

Of course. With the old man gone the vultures had moved in.

“And instead of going to the council you engage in useless protesting with a bunch of kids from the mainland?”

Gwyneth pouted. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it? Creating a riot, that’s helpful.”

“You have a better idea?”

“I do. You’ve got me wrong. I maybe can help you. Show me where they want to build.”

So Gwyneth drove him out there. It was as Josh suspected. The developers wanted the homes directly on the beach or on bluffs overlooking it. They were building for view, ignoring the soil conditions and building on areas that were inherently unstable.

“Would they bother if they couldn’t get beachfront property?”

“No. It’s the beach that they want.”

“Okay,” said Josh, who had brought tools and a camera, knowing what he intended to do. It was Sunday, with no one around, so they could move about taking soil samples and photographing the building sites.

“What will this accomplish?” said Gwyneth.

“It’s evidence. I’ll get these analyzed. In the meantime, no more protests. Got it? We’ll do our fighting in the council.”

“Oh, yes, Your Highness,” said Gwyneth with some sarcasm. But she was warming to the handsome American. And now, after all that had transpired, he seemed more invested in her and her family and the land.

“I mean it. If I’m the Duke of Earl or whatever around here, they’ll have to listen to me, but I don’t want that authority undercut by any shenanigans on your part.”

“The duke of what?” said Gwyneth, puzzled. “You are the Earl of Carlisle. It’s a hereditary title— there’s no Duke of Earl .... ”

“It’s just an expression, okay? Look, I mean what I said. Don’t undermine my efforts by acting out with those neo-hippies from the mainland.” He decided to yank her chain. “Besides, don’t forget that you can go ‘on report’ too. I took notes the other night.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she said in a huff. But at the same time she blushed at the thought of the handsome American taking her to task. Just like her cousins. She licked her lips nervously. Over his knee, skirts up, her bottom bare, his sturdy palm smacking her, soundly teaching her... obedience. She shook her head to try and cast that thought away.

The next day Josh took his samples and got on the ferry. It took him a week to get the soil samples tested and the physical layout analyzed, but the results were conclusive. The soil was too unstable, too prone to shifting. In the space of two or three years, beach erosion on the bluffs would cause those houses to fall into the ocean. He procured an official report and returned to Oakton Island, ready to appear before the Island Council. He had to hurry. The meeting was that night.


But he arrived back at Heatherton Hall only to find a distraught Lydia Heatherton.

“It’s my granddaughter. She’s been arrested.”

This was not good. Just when he had the evidence in hand. “Why?

What did she do?”

“Oh dear,” she said. “I’m told it was a protest. Things got rather out of hand, I’m afraid. She threw a rock at the developer’s building. They saw her. It broke a window right out. There was other damage, too. Lots of them have been arrested.”

Josh ran his hand through his hair. Well, that’s just great. And with the council meeting tonight.

“That’s not the worst,” said Lydia. “You were away, so she’s been sentenced to the birch along with some others. Please. You must go there. Do something. Listen, as the earl, you have influence. You must use it. The Heathertons have always been immune from the local justice—- with the proviso that the earl must dispense appropriate justice here. This right has been exercised to spare the family from becoming a public spectacle. But of course you already know that,” she said, now recalling the incident with the cousins.

“If you don’t act, she will be strapped to the frame in the police station and whipped. The papers will pick it up. We’ll be humiliated.”

“But then, I have to punish her, don’t I? Only here, in private?”

“If sentence has been passed. A deputy constable may act as witness to see that justice is carried out. But, yes, here in the study, just like the other night.”

Josh took a deep breath. He’d been half kidding when he’d made the “on report” threat. There was no help for it now, though. He’d have to carry through. And just when he thought things were getting interesting between him and the nubile Lady Gwyneth.

“Come with me, Lady Heatherton. Let’s go get Gwyneth.”


They were about to come for her. Gwyneth sat in the cell she had occupied for a day. The hearing had been perfunctory. She wasn’t surprised. With her father dead, the constabulary had been compromised by the influence of the developer’s team, all of whom were positively gleeful at the prospect of a humiliating whipping for a Heatherton. She heard footsteps clomping down the hall. This was it. In minutes she’d be strapped over the frame, her bottom bare, while a swishy birch whistled through the air and delivered its stinging message of pain.

Two constables and a matron appeared. Gwyneth shivered. It was the one they talked about. Beacham. Bess Beacham. The one who whipped the girls. She wore a tight-lipped smile, one that said that she relished her job.

“You’re to come with us, Lady Heatherton.”

On shaky legs, she got up to follow. She’d seen the birching frame, a wooden apparatus over which prisoners were bent, secured with stout straps to hold the condemned still while the buttocks were forced to arch out, presented prominently for the birch.

Several protesters had been arrested and sentenced, and those sentences were now being carried out. She had heard the opening and slamming of cell doors, the vocal protests, and then silence—until the whine of the rod and yelps of pain had echoed down the hall.

So they took her. But they headed up front, not to the room in the back where she had heard the swish and thwack of the birch, the cries of pain, and the pleas for mercy. Instead of the dreaded punishment chamber, they emerged in the hearing room, where she was greeted by the sight of Josh Fairchild and her grandmother, Lydia.

They addressed a magistrate. Josh made his statement. “We are here to take Gwyneth Heatherton. We invoke the traditional custom. I understand that she has been sentenced to two dozen strokes of the birch rod for vandalism. I assure you she will be duly punished by the Earl of Carlisle in private.”

The chief constable nodded to the magistrate. Apparently he had been informed by Officer Robinson after the cousins’ incident. Josh explained who he was, backed up by letters from the solicitor and by Lydia Heatherton. Everyone in the room looked at each other as if deciding, but in the end, tradition held. “I will release her to you, sir. But Deputy Constable Beacham will accompany you. Just to act as witness to see it’s done right.”

Josh nodded and looked at Gwyneth. The color had drained from her face as she realized that the fate in store for her might be even more mortifying than she had thought.

It was a silent ride in the car back to Heatherton Hall. Gwyneth sat in the rear with Deputy Beacham. From time to time Josh caught Gwyneth’s eye in the rear view mirror and she quickly looked away each time, clearly ashamed and embarrassed. And nervously awaiting the fate in store for her, very soon, it seemed.

They arrived and got out of the car. Lydia took her granddaughter’s arm. “You brought this upon yourself, dear, so I suggest you prepare yourself.”

“But, Granny,” she hissed, “he’s a MAN.”

“Yes, he is, dear,” she said, patting her granddaughter’s arm.

“Yes, he is.”

Josh took her by the arm as they walked to the front door. “Trust me,” he whispered. “Follow my lead and it won’t be so bad.”

“But I have to tell you something,” she said under her breath. “I get... ”

“Tell me later,” said Josh. “Afterwards. Now scoot.” And he patted her rear to hurry her along. He heard her gasp.

Josh sought out Mrs. Finch and gave her instructions. Then he joined the rest of them in the library where they waited for Gwyneth, who had gone upstairs to prepare herself.
I'm afraid we have run out of room, and will have to end this saga next week.
From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Punished, as a boy

We have been enjoying The Terror, a television series about the doomed Franklin expedition of 1845 to find the northwest passage to India. It is based on fact, but there has been a fair bit of the supernatural added to turn it into something of a horror movie. We know that there were no survivors, which makes it quite sad to watch. (Several expeditions later searched fruitlessly for the lost party, but it wasn't until 2014 that Erebus, one of the two ships in the expedition, was found. Terror was finally located in 2016.)

Last week's episode was entitled "Punished, as a boy" and naturally that set my pulse racing, as I'm sure it did yours when you read the title of this post. In the episode, three of the sailors committed various infractions which caused the captain of Erebus to sentence them to 12 lashes each with the cat o'nine tails. The ringleader argued, which raised the sentence to 20, then 30 lashes, and finally, that he should be "punished, as a boy".

The next scene begins with a closeup of the naked back of one of the miscreants, striped with blood. It is now the turn of the ringleader. He is shirtless, and is led to a wooden bench, bent over it, and bound. Then the captain orders that he be "punished, as a boy". At that, his breeches are pulled down to expose his bare buttocks (which we don't see). Obviously, the point of being whipped across the bum instead of across the back, as a man would be, is to add humiliation to the punishment. The flogging begins, and the viewers watch the culprit's face, and hear his muffled groans and gasps. It is only when the flogging is over that we see his naked, striped bum. He then staggers off to the ship's doctor, who tends to him.

The scene was done tastefully enough, and Ron remarked during it that I was seeing a really good spanking. I agreed, although it wasn't much of a turn on for me because I am not fond of seeing violent beatings or blood. Still, I thought you might be interested.

In closing, I want to share with you what is considered by some to be Canada's second national anthem. Listen to the late, great Stan Rogers sing "Northwest Passage".

From Hermione's Heart

Monday, April 16, 2018

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 15

What is your opinion of hairbrushes?

Dan: It does have an iconic aspect and definitely has me thinking about spankings whenever I see a large, oval shaped brush. But, it does not play a big role for us in real life, because the spankings with a hairbrush just aren't very effective. Now, the bath brush is a different, and altogether much more painful story.

Amy: In literature, the hairbrush always got me going. I finally told Eric about my fantasies surrounding it and we went to Target and bought the squarish wooden flat back brush that I've seen posted on many blogs. It HURT LIKE HELL. We were both shocked how extreme it was. Now Eric uses it but only with my jeans on. Too intense on bare skin. Thankfully, after a spanking with the thing, he brushes my hair. Ahhh. One of my favorite things in the whole world.

Rosco: Irene will pick up the hairbrush once in a while and give me a few sharp smacks. It’s the tool we started with, and she gave me quite a paddling with on our honeymoon in 1982, I wonder if people in the adjoining cabins heard the noise.

But for many years she’s preferred her long riding crop, along with a regular tawse and a short one we found on a trip to New York City. And in the spring she’ll instruct me to find a few straight supple shoots at the base on wild plum trees in our area. They have a delicious sting.

Sir Wendel: The hair brush has become a symbol of a spanking and we always think of spanking when we see one. We have actual paddles but once in a while a good licking with the brush is just what the doctor ordered.

Yorkie: My wife needed a new hairbrush. I chose a particularly large black plastic one that seemed to have some weight. It was a spontaneous purchase and therefore not perfect but it does pack quite a sting and it is quite LOUD. And yes, I encouraged her to buy a new hairbrush for a dual purpose. ;)

Arched one: Thinking back in time, I would say in the U.S. the hair brush was the 1st implement used in spanking as most families had one. We have one but it's seldom used but it does have its wear marks from meeting my bottom. Her choice of implements is the wooden spoon, belt, strop and paddle. My own feelings on the brush, being the one that feels it. I think it has more sting with less effort on the spankers part.

Roz: The hairbrush always makes me think of spankings, however, it has never been used here.

Joe: The hairbrush was handy, always on the dresser, Jackie had bought a nice large one, it brought the results she wanted and she used it for sometime. Today it is a traditional paddle, covers more area she said, and so very effective. As for how I see it, I would rather have the hairbrush, that paddle really allows the spanking to last longer once she is done.

Windy: We have one, but it is only used on my hair. I am taking Amy's advice on this one and staying away from the hairbrush.

Treffor: For me, the quality of wood is of the utmost importance in a hairbrush.A well-polished ebony or similar hardwood hairbrush has a the resonance of a Stradivarius, eliciting yowls of pain from the male spankee. It does appear as the pre-eminent instrument for the female for discipline of the male and should be left prominently displayed for edification and attention.

Ronnie: I've always associated the hairbrush with the US, not sure why. We own two hairbrushes but they very rarely come into play. Not a favourite of ours.

Bernie: We did get a hair brush for the exclusive use of spankings. We used it a few times, but haven't gone back to it in years. It just didn't seem to work for either of us. But, the best to all who enjoy (?) it.

Anon: I consider the hairbrush to be the quintessential spanking implement, and it is, without question, my implement of choice. A hairbrush spanking always pushes the right buttons, especially in real life, because I believe that no other implement delivers the message to a mature woman that if she acts like a naughty little girl she’s going to be treated like a naughty little girl the way a hairbrush does.

I love the way a hairbrush feels when I hold it, the satisfying sound it makes on impact, the way I can use it over a wide area or narrow in on a specific target, and the spirited response it elicits when I apply it to a naughty woman’s upturned bottom. Another nice thing about a hairbrush is that it delivers the desired results whether applied to a bottom that’s encased in sturdy jeans, skimpy panties, or nothing at all.

As for the women I’ve played with, most of them have a passionate love/hate relationship with the “dreaded” hairbrush (they hate being spanked with it because it hurts like hell, but they love what it does for their psyche), which, for me, makes it the perfect implement. I find that the older I get, the more I rely on tried and true methods of doing things, and when it comes to dealing with a recalcitrant mature lady, there’s no more tried and true method then putting her over my knee and vigorously applying a hairbrush to her bare bottom until she kicks and squirms and howls like the naughty little girl she is inside.

I do use other implements for the sake of variety, but I prefer the hairbrush because the “bottom” line is, a hairbrush just works.

Terpsichore: Interesting to read everyone's thoughts. My hair brush almost always get used on my hair but a rare occasion.

Hermione: I love stories where the naughty girl or boy gets an over the knee hairbrush spanking. I suppose the reason is because many of the early spanking stories I read happened just that way. In real life, however, I find a hairbrush is too thuddy. I prefer a leather paddle, if I have any say ion the matter.
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #223

Welcome to our weekly discussion of all things spanking. Lately I have been thinking about how certain implements are traditionally used in certain parts of the world, and therefore resonate with people used to experiencing them. The tawse, used frequently in Scotland, was, until recently, a rarity elsewhere. The English cane is the implement of choice for many adults residing in that country, and the paddle is most often the first choice in the US. Then there's the hairbrush.

What are your thoughts on the hairbrush? Do you think it has an association with a particular part of the world? Does the hairbrush push the right buttons for you in literature, videos and pictures? How about in real life? Is it your go-to implement, or is it rarely part of your spanking activity?

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

Saturday, April 14, 2018

You Completed the Caption

This is the original caption that came with the photo, and it has been around on Facebook for a while, although since I don't use FB I hadn't seen it. Now here are your captions:

KDPierre: Despite their good intentions, these protesters received a lot of criticism from people who thought such a ban was cruel and unfair to those who walked with a limp.

Joe: Hi, I first saw this photo a long time ago in a 'hardback' book, to do with the punishment of School Girls. The photo was, I believe, taken at a County Show in the south of England and the young ladies were protesting about frequent canings they received at their Private or Charity school, and some had been caned at 18/19 on the bare bottom! I am not sure of the Author.

Baxter: No to the cane, but turn the sign around and it says yes to the tawse. Sure. :)

Anon 1: Following their demonstration, the protestors were marched into the Headmaster's office where they were informed that the school administration was in agreement that the cane was an outdated form of punishment for young ladies. Then the Headmaster unveiled his new implement of choice, a large wooden paddle, which he then proceeded to apply to each girl's knicker-clad bottom. Afterward, the girls all agreed that their protest had not been in vain because even though six of the best with the paddle hurt terribly and left them unable to sit comfortably in class for several days, it was still better than the much hated cane.

Windy: I was just thinking I wouldn't want to be any of those girls because the would end up in very big trouble in one of Hermione's stories !! :)

Anon 2: Glenda and her husband, James, were sitting at the kitchen table when their granddaughter, Felicity, brought in a photo album she’d found and inquired if the girl on the right helping to hold the sign was her grandmother. An embarrassed Glenda acknowledged that yes, it was indeed her, and explained that when she was in school, it was common practice for the teachers and headmasters to punish girls by giving them strokes of the cane, and that she and her friends were protesting because they thought the practice was antiquated and that they were too old to be punished like naughty children.
When her granddaughter asked if the protest had worked, Glenda sighed and replied that it had not, that their fathers had put a quick stop to it and had hauled them all home where each girl received a good paddling, and that when they got back to school the headmaster had made it abundantly clear that he was not about to abandon the cane as his preferred method of punishing obstreperous young ladies. Felicity grimaced a bit and stated that she was glad her school had stopped using corporal punishment before she got there. She then said she knew Glenda and James were sweethearts at the time and asked what her grandfather thought about the protest. James started to answer but was interrupted by Glenda, who said he was very supportive of her efforts.
After Felicity left to join her friends for an outing to the mall, James inquired with a sly grin as to why Glenda hadn’t been truthful with Felicity. Glenda blushed and replied that Felicity certainly didn’t need to know about the fight they’d had because James had forbidden her to take part in the protest, and that in addition to the punishment she’d received from her father and the headmaster, he had followed through on his threat to give her a sound spanking. James laughed and said that although he certainly understood her point of view, that nevertheless, she had lied, and that obviously it had been far too long since he had held her accountable for such naughty behavior. James then pushed his chair back from the table and patted his lap. Glenda, her thoughts drifting back to the very first time James had beckoned her across his lap, inquired what would happen if she protested, to which James replied that any protest she might stage would be as effective now as it was when she was a schoolgirl.

Bernie: There seem to be six protesters. Did they each get one per protester?

Sir Wendel: Victory came just 2 days after the protest started. The Head Master got rid of the cane and replaced it with the belt which he promptly used the whip the protester's bare bottoms.

Anon 3: As the women of the “No To The Cane” protest gathered to celebrate the 40th anniversary of their demonstration they lamented the fact that until a few years ago, the day’s activities had ended with each woman receiving a sound spanking from her husband to mark the fact that this day was also the first time their boyfriends, now husbands, had spanked them. The boys had dragged them away minutes before headmaster got to the field and taken them to Frank’s basement because it was close by. The ungrateful girls had been such brats that the boys finally yanked them over their laps and spanked them. And to make sure the girls knew they were in this together, the girls were passed around and spanked by each boy, finally ending up back across their own boyfriend’s lap for a final flurry of swats.
the women sat whining about the lack of attention being paid to their bottoms, and other parts, Nadine suggested they re-stage their protest … with a slight twist. The next day they bought schoolgirl outfits and lingerie that matched what they had worn 40 years ago. They texted their husbands and told them to meet up after work, come to Frank’s house, and join them in the backyard. When the men arrived, they found the ladies dressed in their schoolgirl outfits and holding a sign that read, “Yes To The Hairbrush.” The husbands then led their wayward wives down to the basement, where a circle of folding chairs, a hairbrush on each, had been arranged. In no time, the men had draped their naughty schoolgirl-wives over their knees, and were raising their skirts and lowering their knickers, all the while admiring the voluptuous bottoms on display. The women set about wiggling and grinding their hips into their husbands’ laps in hope of arousing some hard evidence to confirm their plan was working. Their efforts were soon rewarded, and as their husbands patted their bottoms, the women twitched, moaned and fantasized about the pleasures awaiting her.
Their bliss was short-lived, and they were snapped back to reality when the first round of swats landed on their backsides, at which point their sultry squirming gave way to involuntary writhing, the warmth in their loins was overcome by the searing heat radiating from their rear ends, and their attention was refocused from the hardness beneath them to the hardness of the hairbrushes raining down on their upturned fannies. The women had not anticipated their husbands would be such energetic partners and were unprepared for the furious manner in which the hairbrushes were being applied to their vulnerable cheeks. It wasn’t long before they were kicking and squalling in pain.
They also hadn’t counted on their husbands re-enacting the entire spanking scene, so just when they thought their torment had ended, they were instructed to shift to the next husband in line. Once they’d made their way around the circle, they found themselves back across their husband’s lap for one final dose of the hairbrush, after which they were lined up against the wall so their husbands could admire their rosy rumps and enjoy a well-earned beer.
Standing in Nadine’s kitchen rubbing their still throbbing behinds the next morning, the satisfied wives agreed that their protest had succeeded, and that despite the fact that they wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably any time in the near future since their husbands had vowed to make up for lost spanking time, the had to admit that a sore bottom was a small price to pay for a happy husband and a stimulating marriage.

Hermione: Many men and women, who had obtained their lifelong interest in spanking by being caned at school, tried to reason with the protesters, who eventually saw reason and dispersed.
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, April 13, 2018

Friday FAIL

Today is Friday the 13th, a day that many people think is unlucky. The people below are doing their best to make that bad luck happen.

Stay safe!
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Complete the Caption

Recently I heard from Boru, a regular reader of this blog, and he very kindly sent me this photo. I have to assume it wasn't photoshopped because it looks like a real protest from the sixties. What do you suppose was the outcome of this protest?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your votes—pro or con—on Saturday.
From Hermione's Heart

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

The Latest Meme

I love this meme that Ronnie posted last week, so here goes:

Age?  Old enough to know better

Bed size?  King, with plenty of room for the dogs.

Chore you hate? Dusting

Pets' names?  Blue Bird, Green Bird, Big Fish, Little Fish, Little White Fish. One dog has the name of a character from Cheers, while the other does not.

Essential start to your day (items)? Rice Krispies, water and calcium tablet, then iPad for my favourite games.

Favourite colour?  Blue

Gold or silver?  Give me silver every time, but not the kind you have to polish.

Height?  5' 7", down from 5'8". I'm shrinking :(

Instruments you play (in head or real)? In the order I learned them: tambourine, recorder, vibraphone, guitar, clarinet and piano. Next on my list: violin.

Kids?  No thanks

Living arrangements?  With my partner

Music you love?  Folk, sixties and seventies oldies.

Nicknames?  Nana

Job?  Editor

Overnight hospital stay other than birth?  Twice in six months for surgery thirty years ago.

Pet Peeve?  Rudeness

Quote from a movie?  "Follow the Money" from All the President's Men

Right or left handed?  Right handed

Siblings?  None

Time you wake up?  Between 5:00 and 5:30, or whenever the dogs wake up


Vegetables you dislike?  I like them all, but hate cilantro. Does that count as a vegetable?

Workout style?  Running to pick up dog poop before the dogs eat it.

Best dish you make?  Chicken cacciatore, using Jamie Oliver's recipe. If you do all the prep ahead of time, it really does take only 15 minutes. 

Best place to visit?  Of places I have been, Salem, MA. That was some weird shit!

From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

From the Top Shelf - Heatherton Hall, chapter 2b

Today we continue with Rollin Hand's takeoff on Downton Abbey. You may wish to refresh your memory by reading here how the two young cousins got themselves into a whole heap of trouble at the local pub. It's now the following morningand Josh must deal with them.

“You have a barn?” asked Josh the next morning. His head still hurt, but the swelling around his nose had subsided. Maybe it wasn’t broken after all.

“Yes,” said Gwyneth.

“With some tools and a workspace?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s take a walk.” Josh took Gwyneth by the arm and escorted her out. They crossed the courtyard and made their way toward several outbuildings.

“The barn is this way,” said Gwyneth, leading. “But what are you going to do?”

“You’ll see,” said Josh. By this time, they had reached the barn. Gwyneth led him through a side door into a tack room. Behind the tack room there was a work space with tools hung on the walls. There were power tools as well, which was exactly what Josh was looking for. It was, in fact, a well-equipped work room with a jig saw and a band saw.

“We have men on staff who do repairs when needed, so we have,this work room with tools. It was something my father built. He enjoyed working with his hands,” explained Gwyneth.

“So do I,” said Josh, looking around. He spied a pile of lumber inba corner, just odds and ends. Sifting through it, he found a likely piece. It was a slat, about four inches wide and nearly an inch thick.

Josh took it over to the jig saw and cut it down to fifteen inches. Then he formed one end into a narrow handle. Finding a sander, he smoothed and rounded all the edges. Gwyneth watched with interest. When he was done, Josh held it up. “See?” he said. “Just what I need, the ol’ schoolhouse paddle.”

“I see,” said Gwyneth, beginning to feel positively squirmy at the sight.

Josh tapped it in his palm. “Just the thing for a pair of underage troublemakers. We’re going to do this Texas-style. I made a few trips to the assistant principal’s office myself, so I know what this feels like. This is a lighter version, but it will do, especially since your cousins will not have much in the way of protection.”

Gwyneth listened with interest, and an image of Josh bent over for a paddling popped into her head. Then an image of herself bent over for a paddling from Josh replaced it and she flushed.

Josh noticed. “Is something wrong?”

She waved her hand. “No, no—just a thought.”

“Mmm. Well, let’s go find your cousins.”

Josh strode back to the main house, paddle in hand, Gwyneth following in his wake. A definite itchy excitement was forming in her lower regions at the prospect of what was coming. In the main foyer they were greeted by the butler. “Griggs, will you inform the misses Amanda and Felicity that I’d like to see them in the library?”

“At once, sir. Shall I inform Lady Heatherton as well?”

“Absolutely. She will want to be present. And Griggs ...,” he added.

“Yes, sir.”

“We are not to be disturbed.”

Griggs eyed the paddle in Josh’s hand. “Quite right, sir.”

Lydia entered first. She nodded to Josh and sat in a high-backed chair that Josh thought resembled a throne. Amanda and Felicity came in next. “Shut the door behind you,” said Josh.

They both wore fashionable knee-length dresses, as if about to go shopping, but by now Josh understood that dressing up was part of the culture at the hall. They dressed for meals, for tea— and now for punishment, it seemed.

“Amanda and Felicity,” began Lydia Heatherton, “we invoked tradition on your behalf to keep you from being hauled off to jail and to what would have been, no doubt, a painful and humiliating interlude that would have brought shame and scandal upon the family. But, as with most things in life, ladies, such intercession comes at a price. There is a compact on this island, and that is that Heatherton Hall imposes its own discipline when our rank and privilege are invoked. Mr. Fairchild is now the earl, as you both know. You will obey him, and you will accept whatever correction he chooses to mete out with as much grace and fortitude as you can muster. If not, the constable can be summoned. Do I make myself clear?”

Both girls murmured an affirmative of sorts and shuffled their feet. They avoided eye contact with anyone, least of all Josh. It was a different pair of young women who stood now before the earl and the Heatherton’s. Gone was the sassy devil-may-care attitude. In its place was embarrassment and remorse.

Josh picked up the paddle and tapped it in his palm. “This is an American school paddle, girls. I expect you’ve not seen one of these over here. But I’m pretty familiar with it, so I know what it feels like. This won’t be easy, but, as I understand it, we are all honor-bound to go through with this. So here’s what will happen. Both of you will come up here to the desk,” Josh tapped the paddle on a broad, flat desk that stood in the center of the room, “and bend over, resting your forearms flat on the desk. You will reach back and lift your skirts above your waist. You will hold that position. I’m going to do this in threes. You will each get three swats at a time, alternating. I’ll do this four times, so you are each getting twelve. I understand that twelve is what they would have given you at the police station, so that’s what you get here. When it’s done, you can get up and rub or whatever, but not before. If you do, we’ll have to repeat. Understand?”

Both girls just nodded nervously.

“Okay, let’s get started.” Josh pointed to the desk with the paddle. “As we say back home, assume the position.”

Amanda and Felicity minced forward and bent over the desk, side by side.

“Spread out a little,” said Josh. “I need to stand between you two.” They shuffled sideways. “Okay, ladies, skirts up.” Josh watched with interest as each girl reached back and gingerly tugged her skirt up. Both wore fashionable lace panties under garter belt and hose combinations. Amanda’s panties were like silky step-ins, while Felicity’s were a patterned nylon type with lace borders.Amanda’s bottom was heart-shaped, high set, and prominent; Felicity, who was shorter and more voluptuous boasted a bubble-shaped derriere, a pair of pertly rounded globes that appeared quite capable of absorbing a good paddling.

Josh stepped to Felicity’s side first. He tapped her buttocks with the paddle as if assessing their resiliency. “First three, Felicity. Do not move.” He drew back his arm.

The arm descended with a blur. A loud crack resounded throughout the room. Felicity squealed and rose halfway up, the sting from the paddle being nexpectedly intense.

Crack! “Yow... ahh!” Felicity stamped her feet as the second swat struck.

Crack! “Ah... ah... yah! Shit!” Felicity bobbed up and down. Gwyneth watched in amazement. The three swats had been delivered rapidly, one after another. The paddle had sounded like a gunshot. Felicity’s bottom cheeks had quivered with the impact.

“I’ll not have swearing, Felicity,” said Lydia. “One more outburst, young lady, and you’ll repeat that stroke. Do I make myself clear?”

“Owww! Y-yes, ma’am,” wailed Felicity.

Josh moved over to Amanda, who looked at him over her shoulder, eyes wide, a fearful expression on her face. “Best to look straight ahead, Amanda. I don’t want you to move. Do it—- spot on the wall. Look there.” Amanda turned her head and tensed up. Josh stepped back.

Crack! Whack! Smack! The paddle spanked Amanda’s clenched bottom cheeks three times in swift succession. She howled at each swat, the cries steadily increasing in volume.

“My God! That hurts!” she wailed. It was practically a shout.

“I’ll warn you too, Amanda,” said Lydia. “No swearing.”

Amanda writhed over the desk while Felicity tensed up. Josh was coming back to her side with the paddle. “Three more, Felicity. Hold still.” She gripped the far edge of the desk so hard her knuckles were white.

Josh reared back and delivered three more crisp swats, one right after another.

Felicity flinched and howled at each smack. She stamped her feet and bobbed up and down, making her nether globes jiggle lewdly. Back over to Amanda. The next three had her humping up and down, too, her feet flying up off the floor. The sound of the paddle smacking flesh echoed off the library walls. Gwyneth winced each time the paddle struck. Watching her cousins get it was satisfying, but still, it looked like it stung like blazes.

Both girls stood up, rubbing. They turned around. Tears were flowing.

“It hurts too much,” wailed Amanda.

“You can’t expect us to hold still for that,” said Felicity. She flexed her knees as she rubbed her bottom. “No more.”

“Me either,” said Amanda.

Josh stood there, grimly tapping the paddle in his palm. He looked at Lydia. She said nothing. Gwyneth was silent as well. They are waiting for me to take charge and finish this, he thought. All right, we’ll do this the old fashioned way. There was an armless chair to the side of the desk. It looked sturdy. Josh put the paddle down and dragged the chair over in front of the desk. He sat down and folded his arms.

“Okay, who’s first?” he said.

The two girls stared at him, not comprehending.

“We are going to finish this. You are both getting twelve swats, and since you won’t hold still and take it, you are going over my knee where I will hold you in place. Now who’s first?”

Both Amanda and Felicity started to back up, but Josh shot up and grabbed Amanda’s wrist. He pulled her around to his right and sat back down. She squealed as he unceremoniously dumped her across his knee. Felicity’s hands flew to her face as she looked on in horror. Up came Amanda’s skirt. Josh tucked it under his arm, well up out of the way. He grabbed the paddle from the desk top behind him.

“Wait a minute,” said Lydia. Josh thought that she was going to stop him. Instead she said, “Her drawers should come down. That should be the penalty for not taking her punishment and forcing you to spank her like a child.”

Amanda shrieked, “No-o-o!” But it was too late. Josh whisked her panties down to her knee hollows in one swift movement. She squirmed across his knee, panicked now, her bare bottom on display. Josh calmly informed her that she was getting six more good hard swats.

The smacks were delivered at an even tempo, spaced two or three seconds apart. The steady splat! splat! splat! was accompanied by Amanda’s squeals of distress and her thrashing and bucking across Josh’s lap. When all six had been duly meted out, Josh stood Amanda on her feet and sent her off to the corner with a swat from his hand.

“All right, Felicity. Your turn.” Josh sat back down and gestured for her to approach.

“Please,” she implored. “Not like this.”

“You had your chance to take it like a big girl. Now we do it naughty girl style. Come on.” Josh slapped his thighs.

Timidly, she approached. She looked around. There was no way out. Her bottom was burning already. As soon as she was in range, Josh took her by the waist and guided her across his knee. He adjusted her so that her bottom was angled upward, right at the ceiling. Her skirt came up, revealing her rather prominent fully-fleshed bottom, encased in frilly panties and framed by her garter belt. She groaned with shame as Josh slipped the panties down, baring her. The twin cheeks, now shamefully displayed, were already quite red. That didn’t deter Josh. He picked up the paddle, tapped her once or twice, and then, smack! He delivered the first of six hearty swats that fell with metronomic regularity.

Felicity thrashed around. She squirmed and wriggled as the paddle meted out its stinging message of justice, one carefully administered smack at a time.

Gwyneth’s hand was at her throat as she watched. Felicity writhed and wriggled in uncontrollable reaction to the paddling. Josh’s brow was knit with concentration as he raised the paddle and, with a smooth motion, whipped it down through an arc to impact Felicity’s quivering buttocks with a loud crack! The sound seemed to bounce off the library walls. Felicity shrieked and arched her back. Josh just pushed her back down and lined up for the next smack.

This was definitely a new Josh, and watching him take control and discipline her naughty cousins was sending little quivers of excitement and desire through the young woman’s lower regions. She imagined herself across the husky American’s lap, bottom bared to his gaze, and her knees felt like they might buckle. She caught herself. Whatever am I thinking?

The paddling concluded, Josh helped Felicity up and sent her to an opposite corner. Lady Lydia looked satisfied. “I trust, girls, that there will be no more wild shenanigans in pubs while you are here.” She looked at Josh. “And I have no reservation at all in informing the constable that justice has been duly carried out by our new earl.”

I think Gwyneth is about to leap across Josh's lap. Will she get her turn soon? Come back next week and find out.
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, April 9, 2018

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 8

This week we discussed men who act like little boys and women who discipline them accordingly.

Amy: Sorry to hear about the passing of Aunt Kay. I never read her stuff but am thankful to anyone who promotes being able to live authentically in the lifestyle that fits one best. Speaking of, in answer to your question, Eric and I don't switch roles and we've discussed it often but realize it wouldn't work for us. More power to those it does work for though!

Tari Cabbot: I am the same, I never knew her, but would like to celebrate her and her work for making it easier for people who now follow in her footsteps.

Dan: Aunt Kay's Disciplinary Wives Club introduced me to the whole concept of adult spanking for disciplinary purposes. I never met her personally, yet she had a pretty profound impact on my life.

If my wife responded to this question, I don't think she would say she enjoys it when her husband acts childishly, but she does enjoy being able to do something very concrete about it. Personally, I don't think the impetus for me is about wanting to be treated like a naughty little boy, though it probably does have some aspects of that. It's more about being held accountable by someone who has the will and authority to enforce the rules.

Sir Wendel: The misses is not into the whole childish behavior thing and I have never gotten a spanking for being childish. When she has a girl’s night out I will get paddled severely so that I “behave” while she is gone. I will do things that bother her in hopes of getting spanked and usually it works.

Roz: Hi Hermione, I am not familiar with Aunt Kay either, but am grateful for anyone who promotes living a life style right for them. We have playfully and very lightly switched roles on the very odd occasion. However not in a naughty boy type scenario.

Bogey: There are both men and women who can not or will not control their behavior and expect to be punished to atone for their "childish" behavior. Spankings do not correct the behavior as it keeps happening again and again - sometimes on purpose.

I can not understand why anyone would want to live with someone who can not or will not control themselves.

Jackie: Men have sexual desires or needs that we women have been asked to make come true, it is just the nature of things. If the males knew the desires of the female it would surprise them. Today males are marrying males and females marrying females, they must be a reason. So as to a male wanted to be treated like a naughty little boy and the female accepts that, it is between them and does not concern others, each to their own. My husband while dating when asked by me his sexual desires, he finally said spankings, and said sex was not a part when spanked. He dreamed of being spanked by older women, dating he would tell them, most just were not into that, not a problem, if the whole world was the same it would be a boring world. This female really enjoys being called Mommy, there is the need that we females have that “Motherly” desire. So yes Joe my husband does get spankings, yes he will call me Mommy when a spanking is needed. My spankings hurt, just ask him. Our sex life is outstanding, but he admits there are times he wishes to act like a naughty little boy, and at those times I will be his Mommy and spank my naughty little boy. What he does not like the most is when he has earned a spanking and we are not at home. I have spanked him at hotels, once on the side of the road, others could not see, and on a few occasions visiting my Mother a trip to the bedroom, hates that. Afterwards he must stand facing the corner, in the front room or kitchen, bare bottom on display. My mother was shocked at first, but when she gave me this nice large hair brush I knew she understood. So each to their own, don’t judge others, judge yourself.

Anon 1: I’m the one who wrote the topic suggestion. Each of us has some desire, mine is a spanking. It was very hard to share, even when asked and I would tell her, nothing would come of it, so I stopped sharing. I after a time and dating older women, I found them more understanding and a couple of them did spank me. The last woman, older, said I needed to find a woman my age, she knew of such a person. She introduced me to her and also brought up the spankings. We went out the next evening, great dinner, learned about her and shared more of myself. She asked about the spankings and said she understood. We dated, went to bed several times, sex life was great. It was not until I did something childish that she decided a spanking was needed. She explained no sex afterwards, I would address her as Mommy and do as told. That first spanking she lowered my pants and then underpants, scolded me like a child and that spanking hurt like hell. I danced around the room, rubbing, and when told to stop, she smiled and said is this what you want in our relationship and still rubbing said yes. We have been married three years, the spankings are real, really hurt, but is what I need. She has stated that women becomes wives and mothers to their husbands, just a fact, some wives nag, and for her, giving me a spanking is so much better.

Red: We do not believe in spanking children, so none of our spankings are role play or for being childish.

I enjoy being spanked like many people do, and we use this dynamic to make our sex life even better, and to solve small irritations in married life. When spanked, the person has to try their best not to repeat the problem. We now rarely if ever argue, and we have a method to solve problems. A magnificent win win scenario

Katie: So sorry about Aunt Kay. I too did not know of her. Sounds like she did great work for the good of the community.

Rob and I don't switch up roles. I have teased him about once or twice about spanking him. He reminds me that there is only one spanker in this marriage, and he is it! I SO love Love LOVE being his spankee... most of the time. HA!

Windy: I am so sorry about your friend, Hermione.

Within the dynamic of my relationship with Storm (Hubby), if I acted this way, we would consider it bratting, which would be a problem. But, I imagine some like to play in such a way if it works for them.

I have a memory of when I was little of some husbands calling their wives "Mother." Perhaps it was because they had children and the man just got used to calling her that because the kids did. Or maybe it was an old fashioned way of speaking in the 70's.

Whether we realize it or not, we often "mother" our husbands. I mean that in the best light possible. I am not (obviously) Storm's mother, but as his wife I nurture him (almost typed neutered -- wouldn't THAT be a different topic). But, I do not hold authority over him in any way. Quite the reverse.

Yorkie: I never read any of Aunt Kay's material. It is sad when someone so influential, so helpful to a large number of people does pass on.

Both my wife and I are adults and neither one of us need to be corrected or punished by the other nor do we desire to be, especially me and I am the one receiving all our spankings. I want her to do it because it turns me on. I enjoy it.

Additionally she would not want to be married to me if I did desire to be treated like a naughty boy.

Each to their own but it's not for us.

A.J.: I've always had a rough time wrapping my head around "naughty boy/girl" or "Mother/mommy/daddy" scenes or talk.

Worse, when it is done in public by married adults - it makes me squirm (Mike Pence, who looks like he's about to apologize for molesting altar boys, calls his wife "Mother" and that freaks me out plenty.)

In a play scene (which is all we ever do)...? No. Not even there. It just seems...I don't know.

I'm an adult male. I'm not "naughty" like I stole cookies before dinner or left my bike on the sidewalk again. I can be careless, glib, speak out of turn, etc. all of which may earn me the "wait-til-we-get-home eye", but never naughty boy (or girl). After hearing her out - and my expressing regret - there MAY be a spanking, but it is with smiles and not "punishment".

But...that's me/us.

Hermione: I can't add anything personally to the conversation, because I am always on the receiving end, and it's never for punishment or for being naughty. But thank you to everyone who responded. I hope this blog is an open, welcoming place for all those interested in spanking, no matter what the reason.

From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, April 8, 2018

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #222

Welcome, one and all, to our weekly discussion time. This week we sadly say goodbye to a remarkable woman. Aunt Kay, the originator of the Disciplinary Wives Club, has passed away. Aunt Kay was a remarkable woman, whose blog inspired many men and women to pursue a lifestyle that suited them best. An anonymous reader suggested a topic that I think Aunt Kay would have approved of.

Do women enjoy having a husband or boyfriend who acts childishly and giving him a spanking? Do men wish to be treated as naughty little boys by their wives or girlfriends and is this common?

I know that I have many male readers who can relate to this feeling, and I also hope that there are female readers who understand and who will respond. You can always remain anonymous. I would love to hear from you.

Please leave your response as a comment, and I will publish a summary of our conversation once everyone has had a chance to speak.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, April 7, 2018

You Completed the Caption

KDpierre: Peter Thomas: "A seemingly innocent backyard shower.....but did a heavy bucket and a rotten tree limb lead to disaster? Or was there something more to it? Forensic botanists....."

Leigh: I just love outdoor showers.

Ronnie: Hilda wondered how much longer she would have to shower outside before her new bathroom was ready.

Anon 1: Hilda was very proud of her new outdoor shower, and she was especially pleased that she was able to locate it right next to the pump so she didn’t have to walk very far to fill the bucket. Then, right in the middle of her very first shower, she heard a voice call from behind her. Suddenly realizing she was completely naked, Hilda ducked behind the fence for cover, and upon peeking over the top came face-to-face with the town’s very cute and single sheriff, who inquired why she was showering naked in her front yard where anyone passing by could see. Hilda said she was so excited about being able to shower outside on such a beautiful spring afternoon that she’d gotten caught up in the moment and hadn’t considered that someone might walk by. When the sheriff told Hilda he’d have to give her a ticket for public indecency, she stood up, flaunting her ample curves, and asked if there wasn’t some other way she could pay her debt to society. The sheriff gave her a big grin and said there was. He then stepped over the fence and led Hilda back to her house. Once inside, he took a seat on the sofa and proceeded to deposit a very shocked and dismayed Hilda over his knee. After administering a stinging spanking to Hilda’s wet bottom, he ordered the remorseful miscreant to stand in the corner and told her that the next time he caught her running around naked outside, he would spank her right then and there, and that afterward he would make her stand in the middle of the yard with her red bottom on display so that anyone who came by would know exactly what happens to naughty ladies who break the law. Hilda promised to be a very good girl in the future, at which point the sheriff leaned over, kissed her on the cheek and asked if he could take her to dinner. Hilda, thrilled thrilled beyond words, nodded her acceptance, but as she reached back to soothe her burning buns, wondered how she was going to manage to sit through a meal on her extremely tender bottom.

Windy: If you are impressed with this plumbing set up, wait until you see how I operate this water pump. I've been practicing my kegels.

EsMay: Hilda was especially thankful for the water bucket on this day, that rained down ice cool water from the hose above. To anyone looking, she was just enjoying a daily cleaning, but to the man that had just blistered her bottom, he knew the truth of how her hot skin and burning bottom were needing the relief. He smiled, wondering if anyone would realize that the items on the fence were not hats, that no woman could wear two hats at the same time. Would they realize those were really ice packs she'd used on her tender bottom when she found his attentions to be a bit more than she could handle? Ah, sweet Hilda, he knew they'd be replaying this scene many a days in the future, he would have to permanently find a way to attach the bucket, she'd be needing it often.

Anon 2: Funny how Hilda’s indoor plumbing worked fine, except for the shower. Eventually she realized it had started when neighbor boy Otto had reached a certain age. She was never sure of his vantage point, so Hilda would turn and bend to be sure to show off every curve, hook and cranny.

There would be more games to play in the winter when the weather cooled off. Hilda thought Otto might make a good houseboy. She could teach him a thing or two.

Anon 3: Knowing Hilda’s penchant for nudity, her boyfriend had warned her that if she used the outdoor shower she had better be wearing something, like her bikini … or there would be consequences. As usual, the mischievous and bratty Hilda defied his admonition, so she wasn’t at all surprised when he opened the window and called for her to come back in the house. Hilda refused, knowing full well what fate awaited her inside, until he informed her that she had an audience. Hilda, making sure to turn only her head, glanced over her shoulder and saw a group of about a dozen local boys lined up across the street. How long they had been admiring her wares, she did not know, but she was thankful she had not had any reason to turn around during her shower. Hilda stood frozen, weighing her options, then decided that since she was going to have to face the consequences anyway, her best recourse was to get inside as quickly as possible before she exposed more than her ample backside to the boys’ prying eyes. Hilda took off running, her bouncing bottom drawing whistles, cheers and applause from her admirers, and didn’t slow down until she burst through the door and closed it behind her with a sense of relief that was very short-lived because as soon as she turned and stepped into the living room, she stumbled into her boyfriend’s outstretched arms and was immediately guided her across his waiting lap. Following a stern, and more vociferous than usual lecture, her boyfriend, who knew the only way to get his message through Hilda’s thick head was to vigorously deliver through her supple behind, raised the hairbrush that Hilda had failed to notice he was clutching and brought it down hard on her upturned and still wet bottom. Hilda did her best to temper her reaction to the stinging swats, but the harder and faster her boyfriend rained the hairbrush down on her beleaguered bottom, the louder she squalled, pleaded, and promised to behave, until the resounding smacks and her subsequent cries of pain echoed throughout their small house. Despite her anguish, Hilda took some measure of comfort in knowing that at least the boys across the street were not aware of her current predicament. It was going to be hard enough to show her face in public after the boys spread the word about what they had seen, it would be so much worse if word got out that her boyfriend had spanked her like a naughty little girl. Unfortunately for Hilda, her serenity was shattered when, as she clutched her throbbing posterior and danced across the room to assume her all to familiar post-paddling position in the corner, she noticed that her boyfriend had deliberately left the window open so that in addition to the eyeful to which she had unknowingly treated them earlier, she had unwittingly treated the boys to quite an earful … and quite an education her boyfriend hoped they would remember when it came time for them to deal with their own naughty ladies.

Anon 4: Hilda was convinced she had finally outsmarted her boyfriend. She knew she was in for a sound spanking if he discovered her standing naked under the outdoor showering, but she reasoned that the cold pump water would numb her bottom sufficiently enough that she wouldn’t even feel the sting when her boyfriend applied his firm hand to it. After all, her theory went, since taking a cold shower after a spanking soothed her burning bottom, reversing that procedure would certainly result in a pain-free trip over her boyfriend’s knee. Of course, she mused, she’d kick and squeal like normal, and pretend to have trouble sitting so her boyfriend wouldn’t be any the wiser. It’s a perfect plan, she thought with a smug and satisfied smile as the cool water washed over her face, around her glorious curves, and down her now icy bottom. Later that afternoon, a very rueful Hilda found herself standing naked in the corner while her boyfriend, sporting his own smug and satisfied smile, sat on the sofa enjoying the sight of her rubbing her searing, bouncing, scarlet behind as she hopped from one foot to the other and pondered how her theory had gone so wrong.

Anon 5: Hilda loved her time at the old family cottage out "in the country," as it had been referred to as long as she remembered. She especially enjoyed it with her husband, Cyril, who knew how important discipline was to her. Although there was a perfectly suitable shower indoors, this old-fashioned outdoor shower from days gone by still beckoned to her....especially after Cyril had done his duty and reddened her ample bottom for that silly chatter last night during the visit from Cousin Hermione. At peace, she once again enjoyed the shower she recalled from her youth....but no one had ever treated her quite as nicely as Cyril.

Hermione: This old bucket sure helps to cool off my hot bottom!
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, April 6, 2018

Friday FAIL

Grammar has been on my mind lately, and here are some of the groaners I've found.

Happy Friday!
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, April 5, 2018

Complete the Caption

Sir Wendel sent me this picture of our Hilda enjoying a summer shower. What is the story behind it?

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

From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

From the Top Shelf - Heatherton Hall, chapter 2a

Last week I reintroduced the late Rollin Hand's novelette, The Ladies of Heatherton Hall. We will continue today with chapter 2. Since it is quite long, I have had to break it into two installments. Unfortunately, today's installment does not contain any spanking, so skip it if you wish. There is, however, a lovely buildup to what is to come.
“Come with me,” said Gwyneth, a day or so later.

“Where to?” Josh had just come down to breakfast and was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The incident with the maids was still fresh in his mind, but they seemed to bear him no ill will. In fact, if he encountered either Jane or Millie, they would just smile at him, rather coquettishly, he thought. It was as if, in dispensing discipline, he had helped clear the air and had restored harmony in the household. Curious.

“The dock. The ferry is coming in and my cousins Amanda and Felicity Campion are arriving. They are on holiday and will stay with us for a few weeks. They have been here before and I want them to meet you.”


“My mother’s brother married and had two daughters, and every summer they pack them off to somewhere just to get them out of the city— and out of the way. And no wonder. They can be a handful.” She rolled her eyes to emphasize the point. “So let’s be off. Can you drive?”

“Sure,” said Josh. Gwyneth just smiled and tossed him the keys. They made the dock, but barely. After attempting to navigate the narrow roads of Oakton Island while driving on the left side of the road, he was as white as a sheet. “Good God, that was unnerving. You drive on the wrong side of the damn road here!”

“Well, you said you could drive,” said Gwyneth, smiling sweetly, her hand covering a laugh.
Josh muttered something under his breath as Gwyneth took his hand and patted it. “There, there, you’ll get the hang of it — just another adjustment to make as the new Earl of Carlisle.”

Like the last “adjustment”? thought Josh. He sure hadn’t figured on being the lord high dispenser of corporal discipline for a whole household. The incident had been as unnerving as it had been arousing. Oh, sure he had spanked a few bratty girlfriends in his day, but that had been all slap and tickle, a prelude to the action. Still, as he recalled, a few swats on the bottom had often led to some passionate sex later. But this sort of formal punishment was at a different level. He found himself assessing the responsibility, now seemingly thrust upon him. Where would this all go?

His train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of the ferry. The ladies who disembarked were pretty. Amanda was medium height, with long raven-colored hair. Felicity was shorter, an impish-looking cute blonde with freckles. Josh guessed their ages at somewhere around eighteen. Gwyneth had said they were in the sixth form, whatever that meant. They gave Josh the once over, looking him up and down like a prize stallion they might purchase.

“Where did you get this one, Gwynnie?” said Amanda with cool appraisal in her voice. She looked at him over the top of her dark glasses.

“I’ll have you girls know this is the new Earl of Carlisle.”

Gwyneth explained as best she could the odd circumstance that had brought the American to their shores. Then she continued without dropping a beat. “So you’d do well to be on your best behavior for the duration. Let’s have no wild shenanigans like last year.”

“Oh, come on, Gwynnie, we’re here to have fun. Mum and Papa were ever so keen to get rid of us for a spell. Loosen up.” This from the other one, Felicity.

“Yes,” said Amanda. “After boarding school, it’s about time we had a chance to do some serious carousing. Are those boys, Billy and Tom Higgins, still around?”

“Look, girls, I don’t mean to be a spoilsport, but things are a teensy bit tense now, what with all the demonstrators and those real estate clods.” Gwyneth practically spat that one out. “I think you’ll have to keep the carousing down to a mild roar.”

Josh just shook his head. Then he steeled himself for the drive back. About halfway there, after swerving to avoid oncoming cars and nearly crashing into stone fences on the narrow road, he realized that Gwyneth had probably played him on this one. After all, the household had a chauffeur. Why had she tossed him the keys? Obviously to have a little fun with the new guy.

But they made it back, the girls chatting and laughing as though he were no more than a chauffeur, and Josh concentrating for all he was worth, trying to visualize everything in reverse image so he didn’t pull into the wrong lane by mistake. By the time they pulled into Heatherton Hall, Josh was finally getting used to it. The terror had subsided a bit.

Lydia Heatherton received the girls in the parlor. Her mood seemed guarded, and while she welcomed the Campion sisters cordially, there was an underlying sense of trepidation. Or at least it seemed that way to Josh. That feeling was confirmed when she pulled him aside. “You’ll have to watch those two,” she said. “When they are away from mum and dad they have a tendency to get into some naughty scrapes. Because they are family, when they do, that reflects upon Heatherton Hall. Right now is not a good time for raunchy behavior,” she sniffed.

Well, now, what am I supposed to do? Josh heard her, but he sighed to himself. Two girls on holiday here? He wasn’t some sort of nursemaid.

The new earl spent the next several days going over the books and being instructed by Griggs in the ways of manor life appropriate for a man of his new station in life . He met all the staff and resolved to memorize each one’s name. What he realized was that the manor was a business. Tenants worked the land and paid rent to the Hall. He made a mental note that, at some point, he’d have to meet the tenants personally to get a sense of how this was going to work. He still wasn’t sure he was cut out for all of this.

He didn’t see much of Gwyneth. She seemed preoccupied with the developers but, thankfully, no more riots had broken out. He vowed that when he had the time, he’d address that problem. Right now, just learning the ropes was a full time job. He was grateful that things seemed quiet.

The quiet was shattered by Gwyneth. It was a Friday night, late, when she burst through the front door just before Lydia was about to retire.

“We have an emergency!” she declared.

“What on earth?” said Lydia Heatherton. She was halfway up the stairs to her room and had turned to observe an obviously agitated Gwyneth in the foyer, waving her arms.

Josh was in the study and heard the commotion. He emerged in time to hear Gwyneth describe the situation.

“It’s Amanda and Felicity,” she said. “They’re at the Three Bells in Carlisle—Andy Sedgwick just gave me a call to say that they are drunk and dancing on the table and things are getting ugly.” Seeing Josh’s perplexed look she said, “Andy is a tenant. He was in there having a pint and saw them come in with some boys. Things heated up from there.”

“What are they doing there? They are under age. You must be twenty-one on Oakton Island.” This from the family matriarch.

“Yes, Granny, I know. That’s why we have to go get them. The constables could be on the way any minute.”

“Yes, of course. We’ll leave immediately.” There was steely determination in Lydia Heatherton’s voice when she answered. All thought of retiring for the night was gone. This was a mission to save the family honor. “And when I get them home... ooh! Cranston was much too lenient on those girls the last time.”

“What’s going on?” said Josh.

“Come. There is not a minute to lose. Andy will help, but he said it’s shaping up like a brawl between the locals and the construction workers brought in by the developers.” Gwyneth rousted William, the chauffeur. They all piled into the car and made for the Three Bells.

It was a raucous scene inside. A crowd surrounded Amanda and Felicity, who were up on a table, bumping and grinding, as watchers hooted, whistled, and clapped. That the pair was inebriated was obvious. The issue was how to extract the girls before the constables arrived.

“You are going to have to fetch them, Mr. Fairchild. If they are carted off to jail I’ll never hear the end of it from Melinda Campion-—that’s their mother,” the countess added for Josh’s benefit. “Spoiled those girls rotten, I say.”

From what Josh had heard about justice on Oakton Island, his first thought was that maybe being hauled off to the slammer would  serve them right. Something about a matron and her whippy birch rod? But Lydia Heatherton clearly did not want that to happen, so Josh enlisted William and Andy Sedgwick and they waded in. Josh affected his best authoritative pose, head high, hands on hips, and boomed out. “Okay, girls, party’s over. Time to go home.”

Amanda stopped, looked at Josh, and giggled. She grabbed Felicity and pointed at him. “Look, Felicity, it’s none other than the bloomin’ Earl of Carlisle, come to rescue us.”

“We don’t need rescuing, Your Lordship,” shouted Felicity above the din. Then she elbowed Amanda and both girls broke into uncontrollable laughter.

“You’re coming with me, right now,” said Josh, shouting above the noise and trying his best to project authority.

“No!” shouted Amanda. “We’re having too much fun.” And she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Time to wade in, boys,” said Josh. Andy and William nodded and they started forward. But they were met with resistance.

“Whoa, whoa, lads. The girls are just havin’ a bit of fun,” said a particularly enthusiastic patron with a mug in his hand. “Who you think you lads are, anyway?” A trio of patrons formed a wall between them and the girls, blocking their way.

“He’s the new Earl of Carlisle and these girls are in his charge,” said William. “And I’ll trouble you to stand aside.”

“The earl, is it? I never seen one o’ those before. Hey, boys, we got us some royalty here. Better let his highness through.” But they didn’t move.

“He’s not from here,” Andy muttered in Josh’s ear. “Neither are the others. They’re with that construction crew building those houses.”

“The girls are coming with us,” said Josh. But he saw what was developing and things looked ugly. It would be helpful if Amanda and Felicity would cooperate, but they seemed content to stand  there and giggle while Josh attempted to deal with the situation before the police arrived. Josh tried to squeeze between two of the girls’ new defenders, but a guy grabbed his arm. He elbowed the man in the solar plexus.

And all hell broke loose. Fists flew, bottles broke. There was squealing and yelling. Somehow Josh got to Amanda and threw her over his shoulder. Kicking and screaming, she angrily pounded her fists on his back. Her heel flew back and hit Josh in his nose and it started to bleed. A thrown bottle clunked him in the head. Andy grabbed Felicity and hustled her through the melee. By this time islanders and outsiders had gotten into it, and inside the pub, things had escalated into a full-scale brawl. But Josh and his entourage had made their escape. In the distance he could hear the whine of sirens approaching. “Let’s go,” he said, and they managed to cram all seven of them into the car and speed away.


“Just what did you two think you were doing in that pub?” Lydia Heatherton was furious. They were now back at the manor and the girls were sitting side by side on a couch in the study while their great-aunt railed at them. “Your behavior was atrocious. What would your parents say? Think of the shame you bring on the family acting like that. How did you get into that pub anyway? You are under age on Oakton Island.”

The girls sat there, sullen and pouting. Josh leaned against the desk, a cloth filled with ice pressed to his face. He didn’t think the nose was broken, but he wasn’t sure. His head throbbed where the bottle had hit it. Gwyneth watched the scene with a bemused detachment. A knock on the door interrupted the dowager countess’ tirade. A minute later Griggs ushered the island constables into the study. The badges said “Robinson” and “Pelham.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Lady Heatherton, but it seems that a couple of your household were implicated in a bit of row this evening. We got orders to take ’em in until we get it all sorted out. There was allegations these girls was under age,” said Robinson, apparently the leader of the team. “The penalty for a minor in possession of alcohol, public drunkenness, lewd behavior, and inciting a riot could be a dozen with the island birch,” he added, looking pointedly at Amanda and Felicity.

That finally got the girls’ attention. “Auntie, please do something. Don’t let them take us to that jail,” pleaded Amanda, now panicked.

Josh mused that in view of the constable’s pronouncement, they were well aware of what could happen in that jail. His mind wandered back to that discussion on the ferry about the matron and the birch rod. The girls had been here before. Surely they had known about the island’s “quaint” custom. That actually seemed appropriate for a pair of underage girls gone wild in a pub.

Lydia Heatherton considered this for a moment, then she spoke. “As you know, constable, tradition holds that Heatherton Hall has imposed discipline on its own when necessary to preserve decorum and decency. In the past the Earl of Carlisle has taken up that duty personally.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Lady Heatherton, but the earl, rest his soul, is dead,” said Constable Robinson.

“No, he’s not,” said Lydia Heatherton. “Constable, meet Joshua Fairchild, the new Earl of Carlisle.”

For a moment Constable Robinson was silent, assessing the situation. Then he set his lips, nodded to himself and said, “If you and the new earl here can assure me that these ladies will be dealt with, maybe there’s no need to haul them in. Do I have your word?”

Lydia Heatherton glared at her great-nieces and spoke in a voice that left no doubt as to her intent. “You have my word that these two will be dealt with most severely, and you’ll not see this behavior again.” She turned toward Josh. “If the earl agrees, of course.”

Josh eyed Amanda and Felicity, who quailed under his direct gaze. He was angry enough, that was for sure. These little madams needed a good... well, he’d figure out what. “As the earl, and speaking for Heatherton Hall, you have my word, constable,” he said evenly.

“Well, then,” said the constable, “we’d best leave you now to sort things out.” He tipped his hat and Griggs escorted them out.

Josh fixed Amanda and Felicity with a steely gaze. “We’ll deal with this in the morning,” he said. He watched as the two girls were ushered out by Lydia Heatherton, who continued to scold them all the way up the stairs.

“What do you intend to do?” asked Gwyneth. She was intrigued now. This was a different side of Josh Fairchild.

“I have an idea or two.”

Something tells me that his idea will not appeal to Amanda or Felicity in the slightest.
From Hermione's Heart