Thursday, July 19, 2018

Picture This

Just when I was thinking that it was time for something new and different on this blog, a creative reader came to my aid with a wonderful suggestion. He thought it would be interesting to ask readers to send me pictures of their favourite implements, and I think so too!

So, you are hereby invited to send me pictures of your implements. It could be your favourite one, your least favourite, a memorable one (and please say why it is so memorable), a homemade one, or a collection of all your implements. If you have a story to go with the picture, so much the better.

No faces or other identifying features in the photos, please, and you need not show the implements in action. The pictures must be in JPG, GIF or PNG format so I can upload them here.

You can find my email address in the right sidebar, under the Canadian flag. (It's martingale2 @ yahoo . ca without the spaces).

If you use an email account that shows your real name (not recommended), please let me know how you want me to identify you in order to preserve your anonymity.

I will publish your pictures here on a regular basis, and I can't wait to see them, so grab your camera, phone, iPad or whatever device you have, and start clicking!
From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

From the Top Shelf - The Headmaster Lends a Hand

You may have guessed by now that I love naughty schoolgirl stories, and this story is no exception. Except that it is. Because the naughty schoolgirl in question is actually no longer a schoolgirl, but a grown woman and a teacher. Are you intrigued? Then enjoy this story from a spanking collection called The Reckoning by Anonymous.
Lucy Millar's arrival at St.Bede's Boy's Grammar School as the young biology teacher was as dramatic as suddenly opening the doors of a monastery to women. Among the twenty or so teachers already there, only one was female. She was Miss Arnott, tall, grey-haired with nicotine stains on her gappy teeth, who always spoke in a masculine rumble. She wore mannish suits and brown brogues.

Lucy, fresh from college, was the antithesis of Miss Arnott. She was small, feminine, channelling her enthusiasm for the job into super-efficiency. She wore large glasses with delicate silver frames and had the disconcerting habit of sliding them down her nose to add emphasis to her words. Naked contact with her large intense cobalt-blue eyes had a distinctly unsettling effect on any male who thought he'd like to lose himself for a moment in those mesmeric blue pools.

On the first day of the autumn term, Lucy arrived early to be personally welcomed by the school's Headmaster, George Adams, a tall thoughtful man in his late forties with fair hair liberally streaked with platinum. He had a warm, possessive handshake.

Thus was Lucy Millar greeted as she briskly stepped into Mr Adams study and took her seat in front of his old mahogany desk which was dusty and rather neglected in appearance.

"She's very efficient," thought Mr Adams as Lucy nimbly flicked her hands underneath her slim contour-hugging skirt, smoothing her seat before sitting down with a briskness which amused him.

For a moment both Headmaster and new teacher stared at each other with the cautiously veiled interest that is always present at the meeting of a pretty young woman and a not unattractive man some twenty-five years her senior.

Lucy stared at him, wide-eyed and alert, positively bristling with enthusiasm while he explained the niceties of school policy and administration to her intense, innocent little face.

Mischievously, he tried to distract attention from his words, to make those piercing eyes blink at him - just once. He leaned back heavily in his heavy oak chair which creaked lugubriously, but she did not twitch an eyelid, nor was there any sign of a smile. He picked up a ball-point pen and began clicking it loudly and rhythmically on the dull wooden desk top, proceeding with his headmaster's monologue all the while. There was a little crater in the polished wood which suggested that this was a favourite trick to confuse an embarrass his staff. It held implications that he was growing a little impatient, and although he was a gracious man, he had something better to do than pep-talk his teaching staff, who after all, were not that important.

The effect was lost on Lucy. She had entered the musty chalk-smelling study with the kind of no-nonsense confidence that often frightens men.

George relaxed, feeling wistfully that it was 'all down to youth' and studied her closely. Her hair was piled on the top of her head and severely anchored with a good many pins, but George noticed that stray blonde wisps had escaped the tortuous bun, and frothed about her forehead and cheeks quite engagingly. She was, he thought, trying to create just the right image, and very successfully too.

Absentmindedly, he catalogued her other features. Small firm breasts, nicely outlined under a slim-fitting pale blue cashmere jumper, delightfully tiny waist and...mmm..he would have to fill in the missing detail when she rose to go. All he could see at the moment below the waist were her dainty hands crossed tidily in her lap, and the wrinkles of her skirt as it broached into tightness. He would have to wait until she turned for he had always had a particular fondness for the female bottom.

"If you have any trouble with the boys during lessons, be sure to let me know," he said.

"I don't foresee any, Sir," she answered him politely but with evident surprise.

George sighed. No, he wouldn't mention the fact of her being an extremely pretty young woman in a school full of sexually deprived adolescent boys. No, he decided against that. A few weeks at St. Bede's would soon take the edge off that rather disconcerting confidence.

He found himself thinking that Miss Lucy Miller could be even more formidable than Miss Arnott if she chose. But damned attractive with it.

The assembly bell shrilled in the corridor outside and brought an end to the interview. Lucy rose to go and the Headmaster was able to complete his appraisal of the young woman. He was quite pleasantly taken with what he saw.

She was wearing a thin grey flannel skirt which was so tight that every curvaceous inch of her hips was revealed. As she turned her back on him to leave the room, the most erotic profile was revealed; a round girlish bottom, pertly prominent - even saucy in the obstinate retrousee angle it assumed when she stood up. George's eyebrows rose slowly in delighted surprise.

Lucy had the misfortune at that moment to trip, and George the good fortune of being there to help her. As one of her stiletto heels caught the leg of the chair, she overbalanced all of a sudden and put her hands awkwardly on the chair arm to steady herself. For a brief moment, her body made a perfect arc with her bottom raised vulgarly at its zenith. George, having leapt to her side, felt a barely controllable urge to smack it.

Instead he placed his hands lightly on her hips, while Lucy got to her feet. He noticed she was blushing. He also noticed that her seams were crooked. He looked again at the slender curves. Sure enough there were tell-tale wrinkles around her ankles and knees. My God, she was wearing real stockings!

George found the discovery quite intriguing. Somehow this revelation of secret femininity seemed to be rather at variance with her precise business-like manner and dress. He was puzzled - and excited.

* * *

A month passed. Lucy settled in extremely well, proving to be an excellent teacher both in her teaching techniques and the uncompromising method of discipline she employed. The boys adored her, worshipped and fantasized about her - but from a safe distance.

George Adams watched her closely. Somewhere, he decided, beneath that cool unflappable suit of armour she wore so convincingly, was a chink.

One lunchtime, while buying his usual cigar, he bumped into Miss Millar in the newsagent's near the school. She was standing, head bent, earnestly poring over a magazine. George approached and tapped her gently on the arm. She reacted as though she'd been struck. With a strangled shriek she let the magazine fly out of her hands. It fell to the floor and lay there, open at the centre page.

In full colour, staring up at them both was an expression of agony on the face of a girl lying upside down across a man's knee. Although dressed in a skimpy school skirt and blouse, she was obviously a grown woman. George blinked and felt beads of tense perspiration breaking out around his collar. The girl in the picture was wearing blue gym-knickers in a tangle around her knees, and she was receiving the spanking of her life.

The Headmaster did not know how to react for a full half-minute. The open magazine seemed to claim all his attention, yet he was aware of Lucy standing next to him, of the flustered distress of her hands, and the fact that she was shaking uncontrollably. He felt the sharp sickness of awakened desire. The poor girl's face was scarlet - she looked as though she had been caught in some criminal act. All her self-composure had vanished.

Mr Adams decided to save the situation. After all, it seemed to him that it was suddenly, gloriously, in his power to do so. Breathing heavily, he picked up the magazine which flew open embarrassingly in several places before he had command of it.

He cleared his throat. "Dear me, did this fall off the top shelf? They don't always stack them too carefully here." He bent to catch her expression.

Lucy couldn't look at him but muttered a strained "Yes" as he put it back.

"They're tempting to look at now and again," he continued airily, " No need to look so embarrassed, Miss Millar."

Lucy shook her head, wanly smiled and, after mumbling an incoherent excuse, fled the shop. George stood and watched her go, amazed at the transformation. Far from looking like the assertive young woman he had come to know, she now looked every inch the guilty schoolgirl.

For days after the event Lucy felt her cheeks burn at the mere sound of the Headmaster's approaching footsteps. She felt curiously under his power, knowing he had realised only too well that the spanking magazine she had been poring over had not landed in her hands by accident. And strangely enough, she found the thought of their shared secret very exciting.

Adams noticed a difference in Lucy after the incident. Her once confident walk had shrunk to a guilty scurrying about the school. He even caught her walking on tip toe to avoid the loud assertive click of her high heels on the marble floor. Her hair now tumbled down in a loose swirl from that severe little bun, making her look quite beautiful. George found he only had to raise one questioning eyebrow for Lucy to begin to stammer in her replies to him; she blushed and felt helpless under his scrutiny.

One Sunday evening, Adams was walking in the local park, the sad decay of autumn at his feet, when he saw her. Silhouetted on the hill in the dying light, she stood with a dog on a lead, her hair flying madly about her in the determined wind. She wore a short jacket and a figure-hugging pencil skirt.

"Miss Millar?" he shouted into the wind.

She looked up while, simultaneously, the mongrel dog wrapped itself around her legs and effectively hobbled her. She couldn't quite seem to disentangle herself, so George went to help her, crouching down to try and unravel the muddle. She was very embarrassed.

The lead had snaked around her thighs, clipping the skirt to her legs and pulling it furiously tight - drawing compulsive attention to her bottom. Somewhere among the tangle of girl and lead, George found his hands roundly cupping her bottom cheeks over her tight, tight skirt. Lucy squirmed with pleasure.

Her curves were soft and pliant like a young girl's. He could feel the ripeness of each cheek and the intimate crack between them in his exploring fingers. Then his hands wandered uncontrollably down to her thighs where he encountered the hardness of her suspender buttons. Feeling her stockinged legs, so slim and so girlish, he suddenly imagined them clad in long white schoolgirls socks, with little open-meshed sandals on her feet. He grew hot at the thought.

They stood up. Lucy struggled to gain composure as Mr Adams's hands swept lingeringly around her legs, pulling the lead free.

They parted and she was unable to look him in the eye.

* * *

Lucy's work began to suffer. To everyone she appeared in a state of constant agitation. The Headmaster felt she was wrestling with some deep inner demon, but he was reluctant to quiz her about her private life. Pupils were beginning to take liberties with her. Standards had dropped.

Although Adams knew he should confine thoughts about his young teacher to the job alone, fantasies filled his mind as to what she did after school. And what he would like to do to her. In his mind, Lucy Millar was the schoolgirl in that magazine centrefold and he, George Adams, Headmaster of St. Bede's, was the strict disciplinarian.

Rothwell's department store, one Saturday, found him wandering languidly through the schoolwear department. He hadn't the faintest idea what he was doing there, except that a strange wistful longing stirred dully in his mind at the sight of row upon row of schoolgirl gym-slips and blazers.

It was then he saw her. Leaning over the small, glass-fronted counter with her now all-too-familiar smackable bottom delicately elevated, she stood on one high heel, curling her other stockinged foot nervously up and down her calf.

On the counter lay a grey pleated gym-slip with a red games girdle, blouse and tie, school cardigan. And topping the lot,a a pair of soft navy blue cotton knickers.

Adams knew instinctively that the the uniform was for her, and not some young niece or for a fancy dress party, although they were probably the reasons she had given the assistant. The time had come to take Miss Millar firmly in hand.

That evening he went to the park as usual. He had hoped to see Lucy again, but there was no sign of her. He left in disappointment.

As he neared the park exit, a young woman rushed past him out into the road, a familiar dog snapping at her heels. It was Lucy Millar and she was crying.

Forgetting his position, forgetting everything but her, George pursued the hurrying girl along the tree-lined suburban road until she disappeared into a tiny upstairs maisonette. With a thumping heart and his mind in a turmoil, he waited for five minutes before knocking on the door.

Agonising seconds dragged by. It appeared that she wasn't going to answer. Then slowly the door inched open.

Lucy stood, dressed in a pretty white blouse and long tight skirt with fluffy mules on her feet. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her face streaked and etched with tears.

"Miss Millar, what on earth is wrong?"

She stood aside and let him walk into her flat.

"My boyfriend has finished with me," she said in between sobs.

George was silent. Suddenly he felt a pang of irrational jealousy. They sat down together on the settee. The room had a chaotic disorder that pleased him. She had a large collection of teddy bears and foreign dolls - little girl's things. Quite at odds with the assertive, brisk young woman he knew at school.

Lucy stood up and went into her bedroom.

"He left me because I bought this." And to Adams's astonishment, she returned holding out the grey pleated gym-slip. She was obviously so upset that she no longer cared what she said, or to whom. Except that she was telling her Headmaster. And he wanted to hear every word.

Standing there in her bedroom doorway with her wet face, was Lucy Millar the teacher, looking every inch Lucy the vulnerable schoolgirl. Holding out the gym-slip with a pathetic gesture, asking for sympathy...asking for approval...just begging to be spanked.

A delicious state of arousal flowed through his body, and something of his excited state reached Lucy. She stopped crying and stood, wide-eyed, looking at him. Then a blush crimsoned her cheeks.

Adams sat at the edge of the sofa, all the while trying to communicate with his eyes his desire to punish his naughty junior mistress severely. But he couldn't just grab the girl and tell her in no uncertain terms, "Lucy Millar, I'm going to give you the spanking you deserve." No he couldn't just do that. He wasn't sure either whether it wasn't just a fantasy on her part. How would she react with his large, mature palm descending on her gym-knickered rump time and time again?

"I don't see what's wrong with you buying a school uniform," he said as evenly as he was able. "There's no harm in it." He looked down at the space between them, and then directly into her wide-open eyes. "Didn' t your boyfriend like you in it?" he asked softly.

"No, he said it was perverted. He said I -" she faltered and turned red again.

"Silly boy. I would have."

Lucy shook. Adams had never seen a girl so visibly moved.

As Lucy seemed to have lost the power of speech, George Adams knew this was the moment to take supreme control over the young woman. And it was so easy.

He looked at her and said, as if talking to a small child, "Now, Lucy, go and put your uniform on for me. Go on."

Lucy turned obediently and went into her bedroom. It was as though she had become totally possessed by Mr Adams's words.

There was silence, as if for a brief moment she was thinking about the enormity of what she was doing. Then a rustle as she took the uniform from the carrier bag.

Adams removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He looked around the room for a suitable chair.

"How are you doing, Lucy? Are you ready yet?" he asked gently, so as not to alarm her.

A muffled voice was his answer. She was pulling on the jumper.

"Have you any long white socks?"

"Yes, Mr Adams." There was barely concealed excitement in her voice.

"Then put them on!" he commanded , and added "make sure you're wearing regulation sandals too."

He sat on the chair in the middle of the room, having pushed the sofa back against the wall. He discovered a spotlight which he adjusted so it would shine on the chair - on his lap - on Lucy Millar's deliciously spankable bottom.

He found in his intense excitement that his eyes kept keenly returning to trivial details about the room. The pattern-repeats on the wallpaper, the shiny gold hands of the clock. He found himself following each jerky second-hand movement round and round and...

She was there. Shy, blushing, treading her way tentatively towards him as if she was temporarily blind and didn't know the room.

Adam's mouth felt sloe-dry. His lips compressed and tightened in excitement.

My God! What a sight she was!

"Stand in front of me, Lucy. I want to inspect your uniform."

As though in a trance, Lucy obeyed him.

Adams's eyes greedily devoured her womanly body, clad so provocatively in schoolgirl clothes. Hair loose in two bunches. Earrings.

"Take those earrings off!" he snapped. "No jewellery in school!"

Her trembling hands flew to her ears and she removed them, dropping them into his outstretched palm.

"No make-up, I see. Good. One point in your favour - not that it will help you much, Lucy Millar!"

She wore a white school blouse and cardigan, which were too small, drawing delicious attention to her breasts. He'd check later whether she was wearing a bra or not. He hoped she wasn't.

The gym-slip ended half-way down her thighs. Nice.

He ordered her to turn around slowly.

"Bend over and touch your toes!" he snapped. "I intend to check whether you are wearing regulation school knickers!" He drew out the syllables of the word 'knickers' with undisguised relish.

Lucy, trembling, did as she was told. Down went her slender little hands, sliding over her long white socks on her calves, until she was touching her ankles. What an excruciating position to be in! And how dreadful to have to do it in front of her Headmaster!

The gym-slip had risen with slow magic. Up, up over the pinchable, squeezable softness of her thighs, bare and talcum-smooth. Up over the crown of her buttocks, thrusting up and over their fullness, until the pleats jutted out like a stage curtain.

George Adams's eyes were greedily focused on the vulgar exhibition of her navy-knickered bottom. There was a dark stain seeping through the gusset already. He leaned forward and tested with a finger. She was wet all right!

"Disgusting!" he said throatily, smelling the heat and the juice from her, and enjoying her mortified squirming.

He turned round again until she was facing him. Her knees touched his knees. Dumbly, her face flushed with shame, Lucy listened to the Headmaster's lecture.

"...and to crown everything, I catch my young Biology mistress gloating over a pornographic magazine," he paused to add emphasis to his next words. "A magazine where naughty, wicked girls get what they deserve. A damned good spanking!"

Adams pulled Lucy down onto his wide lap. She, weak from the excitement of being shouted at and lectured, floated down onto his knees like the descent of a feather. She was light and small and schoolgirlsih, and she was his very naughty, about-to-be-punished school mistress.

SMACK!!

Lucy's legs and arms flopped onto the floor as she made a perfect arc across his lap. The crisp impact of his decisive palm on her delectable rear sizzled through her body. Her nerves became like telephone wires, buzzing with messages.

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

She was hardly aware of what was happening. Adams lifted up her gym-slip skirt and neatly laid it back above her waist.

His warm male hands cupped her bottom cheeks, squeezing and kneading each one in turn. His fingers poked indecently into her cleft, forcing the navy cotton into a kind of valley in between. He continued poking and pushing his humiliating finger down, down into the deep cleft and beyond - massaging the sticky wet cotton stain until she writhed uncontrollably. The hems of her knickers were soaked in perspiration.

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! Heavier and hard, punishing and determined.

She made no sound. Her face was flushed, her forehead beaded, her ears ringing from the pumping, pumping in them, and from the fly-swatting spanks of her bottom.

"Now I shall really punish you!" he said, his voice rising to an angry crescendo.

Silence.

"Get up, Lucy!" he bellowed.

Lucy awkwardly clambered off his knees, feeling her knickered, spanked bottom gingerly.

"Lucy," Adams's voice rose and fell with subtle sarcasm, "you aren't showing any signs of repentance, are you!"

Lucy's toes curled involuntarily. She hadn't the courage to look him in the eye.

"I'm afraid I must insist you take your knickers down!"

Lucy stared at him with enormous eyes. Dare she? Should she? He was her Headmaster!

"Mr Adams - "

"Don't interrupt, girl - do it!" he snapped , taking her hands and placing them on the waistband of her knickers. But the gym-slip was in the way , and it had to come off. Silently, he rotated her like a frozen ballerina and, unzipping the back of the gym-slip, eased it from her shoulders and let it slip into a grey puddle at her feet.

Then he turned her round to face him and took her hands, pulling them into his hot crotch where her fingers closed obediently around his erection.

With her body bent towards him, her hands moving all the while, he lifted his own hands and out them in the waistband of her school knickers, peeling the navy cotton down and away from her beautiful buttocks.

Down they came. He savoured it with a slow deliberate motion, rolling the soft cotton between finger and thumb and then easing it, controlling it down over her nubile pink and white bottom.

Angrily, because at that moment she took her hands away from his trousers, he jerked her down over his knee. Her naked bottom was well stuck-up. The knickers rolled down to her calves of their own accord and stopped there.

Like a hungry man savouring a feast, he studied every part of her nakedness. The gentle girlish curve of her bottom cheeks, the saucy brown curls of pubic hair peeping from between her tightly closed legs.

Then he began to spank his young Biology mistress on her bare arse.

Lucy had no idea that the punishment would be as painful as her Headmaster seemed determined to make it. He had taken such command of the situation that she felt she could do nothing except obey. "He's doing what he likes with my bare bottom!" she kept repeating to herself. "He's really spanking me bare!"

In between the hardest bottom-smacks he could muster, Adams tilted her slightly so he could rub her pink erect clitoris - already swollen and streaming with moisture. As the heat in Lucy's bottom grew, she clenched her cheeks together in an attempt to ease the pain. She began to wish that she wasn't being spanked after all. And with that came a sudden reality check - that Adams was doing what he liked to her bottom and her sexual parts without her consent. The awareness became dreadfully humiliating. But there was no getting away from it - or from the fire he was stoking in her bottom.

She began to squeal through clenched teeth, but then as the slaps came one after another in the same sore places, she cried out, "Oh stop it!Pleeeeeeeeeeeasse!" and screeched in distress.

George Adams was going to do no such thing until he was satisfied she had been punished entirely to his liking.

"And next time, it will be my cane, young lady - and I'll thrash you with all the strength I have in my body!" he hissed.

"Ohhhh! My poor bottom. Oh Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Please, I'm sorry!" Lucy yelled, but Adams seemed only to smack her all the harder.

Suddenly there was an explosion of tears. She threw back her head and sobbed like a baby.

He pushed her off his lap and onto the floor. The schoolmistress lay submissively at her Headmaster's feet.

Still sobbing, Lucy felt his hands lift her up and smooth her well-spanked buttocks. With a voice of acid hardness he told her to take off her jumper and blouse.

Now she was naked apart from the long, white socks. The sweat from her wrigglings mingled with her perfume and trickled down between her bare breasts.

George pushed her over to a corner of the room and positioned the spotlight onto the young woman standing there, rubbing the reddest bottom he'd ever seen.

"Put your hands on your head!" he thundered.

Delicious! The spotlight played up and down the creamy whiteness of her back, the raw rude crimson of her arse. The posture was so like that of a truant schoolgirl made to stand in the corner with hands on head.

He stood behind her, smoothing her body and marvelling at the heat coming from her punished bottom.

Then, like a doll-ballerina, Lucy walked stiffly to her bedroom - propelled by Adams. The Headmaster of St. Bede's Boy's Grammar School had one hand on her burning flanks, the other now massaging his swollen cock, thrusting from the open zipper of his trousers.

Biology teacher she might be; but he was going to teach her a few things about Biology she wouldn't find in any of her textbooks.
Has Lucy forgotten her ex-boyfriend already?
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, July 16, 2018

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for July 15

What implements are you currently using?

Baxter: I am the spankee, for the most part. My wife uses a few things. One is a wooden paddle we bought at the local kitchen store, actually it is a bread board,but never used as such. She also uses a very long shoe horn, 2.5 feet long, that we got before I had my total knee replacement. It was to be used to help get shoes on but I had never needed it. My wife looked at it and told me to bare my bottom - wow does it sting. Another item is a wooden spoon bought at the hardware store, again never used in the kitchen, but for spanking me. We do need to get a leather belt so she can spank me when we are having sex - pain and pleasure are an intoxicating mix.

 Anna: In our kitchen, we have a wooden bread slicing board that Peter made for his mom when he was a Boy Scout. His mom gave it to me as a housewarming gift, when we bought our first home 10 years ago. No one knows that every Saturday morning it it put to use as a spanking implement for Peter. I love seeing him after the spanking standing in the corner, pants around his ankles, bare bottom beet red.

In addition I have used his belt, that I make him remove and hand to me. Upstairs in our bedroom is the hair brush with an ivory handle. That is also hot. All these things bring him back to the sweet man I married.

Roz: With spanking being pretty much non-existent here now days when they do occur it's usually a hand spanking. Our main implements would be leather paddle and wooden spoon.


Rosco: I am honored that you were inspired by my comment.

My bottom is currently feeling the aftermath of Wednesday's switching with supple shoots from a plum tree -something that grows wild in our area if you look.

I do liken the switch more to a whip than a paddle but it is a bit different. The delicious sting reminds me of tart lemonade on a hot day - once the intensity subsides a bit.


Barrel: Mistress's hair brush and rubber paddle are her favorites as she enjoys the OTK intimacy and the close up view of the results.

NoraJean: Older and been around for a few years ... crop and flogger, both favourites
New to the scene ... strappy leather paddle ~3 inches in diameter ... kinda slappy and stingy ... roundish leather paddle, quite thuddy ... a thin bamboo tomato stake, I wish he would only use it after a good warmup ... and the latest, an ok'd belt of his doubled over - I think it's going to go on the same list as the crop and flogger ... the 'yummy, yes please more, Sir' list ;))

Yorkie: For a while there, for noise reasons, we stuck to a Cane-iac Every Ready cane which is perfect for OTK and a Smack Stick Senior. Lately, however, the kids have been going out and leaving my wife and I home alone so I am free to use anything in my toy box which includes an OTK strap (oh I love that thing. I could take that thing all day), a small quarter inch think paddle, a short handled bath brush, a long handled bath brush, a removable handle from one of those bath brushes and a Smack Stick Junior which is hardly used as the Senior version is quite brutal and I love it.

I even trialled some of our wooden spoons in the kitchen. I was quite surprised at how effective some of them were.

Fondles: I think we have phases. His hand is always featured, followed by something else. Often its the cane, or his belt. But recently he's been pulling out the flogger (cos it's new I reckon) and the Christmas paddle - when I need a serious stress relief spanking!

Sir Wendel: The paddle and the belt are our favorite implements and nothing is better than the personal touch of the open hand.

Bonnie: Randy loves variety and surprises. Most of the time, he seems to choose the implement(s) with this in mind. So on any given day, it might be a favorite implement or just something he picked up off the counter. As soon as he feels like he's getting into a rut, he changes up his selections.


Amy: Eric is traveling for work so there are no spankings here. :( However, we seem to go through phases. A leather phase. A wooden phase. An otk hand phase. At this point, I'd take a wet noodle spanking!

Red: Good topic: we have progressed to canes (from Ronnie), Tawses (from Can-iac) and wooden bath brushes (from any local pharmacy or Walmart and our last was from a grocery store.

Ronnie: P chooses the implements so could be anything. Lately it's been the holey paddle Bogey sent me, the rose leather paddle and of course the cane.

Hermione: We have a large selection to choose from, and Ron keeps things interesting by varying his selection. Sometimes it's all leather straps and crops. Other times it's a mixture of leather and wood. He loves our long, red wooden shoehorn and uses it frequently. There are also a few Delrin implements that he likes, but only one of these will go into the mix. I am always allowed to choose one, and my choices are usually a leather paddle, ping pong paddle, or wooden beach paddle.

Thanks for participating in this lively discussion. Remember: I am always looking for new topics to discuss, so if you can think of a spanking-related topic we haven't discussed lately, please share it with me.
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #236

Welcome, everyone, to our weekly gathering for a chat about spanking. Today's topic was suggested by Rosco at last week's brunch, when we discussed who buys the implements. He remarked that "[f]or us it’s mostly whips etc. rather than paddles these days. I wonder how others feel."

So let's answer his question.

What implement(s) are you currently using for spanking? Is there a certain type you usually use, or do you prefer variety?

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, July 14, 2018

You Completed the Caption

This is the full postcard with its saucy, double entendre. Now here are your suggestions:

Hands63: Behold, the crack of dawn!

Storm: Welcome home, Honey! I have a surprise for you behind curtain number 1!

Sir Wendel: I can’t come out and play right now. Daddy is about to spank me.

And that's all, folks! Stay tuned for brunch, coming up next.

From Hermione's Heart

Friday, July 13, 2018

Friday FAIL

Uh oh! It's Friday the 13th. Something very bad is about to happen to these unfortunate souls.




























Be careful out there today.
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Complete the Caption

This is a naughty postcard from the Fifties, when such things were readily available at seaside resorts and holiday camps. I have removed the saucy double entendre from the card so that you could have a go at adding one.

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

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

From the Top Shelf - So You Think That's Funny?


Today's selection was originally a photo story by the late Alex Birch. He used pictures from Scorpion magazine to tell the tale of a middle-class couple, Gina and Gary, in the garden on a Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately, the pictures were lost, so imagine this scene: Gina has been saddled with cleaning the windows while Gary is reading his porn magazine.
(Oh Gawd, it's boiling hot out here! Why did I agree to do this while he sits there reading his softporn mag? What does he see in that stuff when he's got me? I'm pissed off with doing this! My arms ache and I'm fed up.)

(Perhaps if I spread my legs and wiggle my arse a few times he will attend to ME instead of that stupid magazine!)

(Bloody men! He hasn't so much as raised an eyebrow!)

"Garrreeeeeeeee! I'm getting hot doing this and my arms ache. Come and give me a hand, pleeeeeeeeeeassse."

"Jeez, you're a moaning cow! Shurrup will ya and let me read me mag. We had a deal remember? I spent two hours servicing your car this morning and you promised to clean all the windows? Remember?"

"I knowwwwww, but I didn't think it would be this hot and...(whine, whine, moan, moan)..oh come on, Garreeeeeeeeeeeee!"

(Not so much as moved a muscle. Right! I know how to wake him up. Tee hee!)

"Oooops the sponge slipped out of my hand. Sorry Gary...ooo you're all soapy hahaha!"

"You silly cow! That's not funny! You've soaked my 'Nuts'!"

"Oooo - Do you think the water might bring them back to life or is that too much to ask?"

"Right, girlie, that does it! You've been trying to get my attention and now you have! "

"Heyyyyy Gary, I was only kidding around -what are you gonna do?"

"Just what you've been hoping I'd do! Now come here!"

"Gary stop it! I've got the windows to finish!"

"Ha! Funny how the windows suddenly become important now you're arse up over my lap. Well grit your teeth, Gina, you're gonna feel these!"

(Oh God I hope so! I've been dying for this!)

"Owwwwwwww Gary you pig! That hurts!"

(and don't I just love it!)

"Of course it hurts, ya daft mare..and you love every minute of it. You're such a little exhibitionist and you've got an arse that was made for spanking!"

(Damn him..he's right! But I'm not telling him !)

"I thought you said I was going to feel these! You'll have to do better than that!"

"Right, my girl, you really are asking for it! Time these came down!"

"Garreeeeeeeeee!! Donna and Kevin will be able to see from the bedroom next door. I'm showing everything!"

"Good! Serves you right! And anyway it might spice up their love life. She's a sour faced little tart. Might give Kevin some overdue ideas of his own!"

"Owwww it stings on my bare bum!"

"Owwwwwwww....ooooo you bastard..that one REALLY hurt!"

"Bastard am I? Well I WAS just going to let you off with a spanking but this calls for stronger stuff. Stand up!"

"Stand and face the window for a few minutes, girlie, while I decide what to do with you!"

"Oh Gareeeeee...I was only...(whine)

"Shut up or it will be worse"

"Right. Turn around and get that top off. I want you naked for this!"

"B-but we're in the garden, Gary. Kevin and Donna will see....."

"Don't 'ave me on, ya little tart. You love showing off that body of yours. Now get on with it!"

(Oh damn. He knows me too well. I do love it...and I'm getting so wet already!)

"And take that bloody smile off your face! You are such a little tart! You won't be grinning in a minute!"

(Oh I love it when he takes control! Oh God, it's the cane..and there's Kevin grinning out of the window...oh Christ! Why does this turn me on?)

"That's the way. Jeez, those nipples are hard already. You love it, don't you! Now get bent over that table!"

"AAAAAHHH Shit...Gary. That hurt! You hadn't warmed me up properly!"

"Stop complaining and brace yourself! I told you I'd wipe that smile off your face!"

"OWWWW How many are you gonna give me? My bum is sore already!"

"That's for me to know and you to find out! Now GET BENT OVER! I won't tell you again!"

"OWWWW shit that really f***ing hurt!"

"Right, Gina, that's it! Now I'm going to make you really embarrassed. I'm sick of that language! Get up and come back to the window!"

"Oh Gareeeeeeeeee I'm sorry. I won't do it again...(whine, whine)

"Too late for sorry. Get up and stand by me!"

"Right, my girl! Now turn and face the hedge and bend right down gripping the bucket!"

"B-but Garreeeeeeeeee....my bottom is facing Kevin's bedroom window!"

"Dead right it is...and he's going to get the show of a lifetime. Bend right over and spread those legs as wide as you can!"

"B-but Gareeeeeeeeee this is so humiliating!"

(But oh Jesus what a turn-on! Kevin is overweight as it is. He'll have a coronary after this!)

"DO IT!"

"Oh my God, Gary, you've never done this to me before. It-it's awful!"

"If it's so bloody awful, girlie, then why is that pussy of your so wet, eh? Can't hide anything in THAT position!"

(I've never been so humiliated..and I love it! I must be sick or something)

"Please, Gary, this is so embarrassing!. I can see Kevin's face, upside down between my legs. He's gone a funny purple colour! It'll be your fault if he kicks the bucket!"

"You just concentrate on YOUR bloody bucket and don't let go or it will be the worse for you!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhh that really hurts, Gary!"

"Oh there's a few more to come yet, girlie!"

"Oh Christ, that one really stung. Please no more. My bottom stings like bees have been at it for an hour!"

"OK that will do...despite that last bit of swearing. Now how do you feel?"

"Oooo Gary, I feel kind of hot everywhere and I need something else now, lover, something only you can provide!" (Muttered huskily)

"You think you can get round me so easily, you little minx. OK I think you deserve something else now and I'm going to do it out here, right now!"

"Oh Gareeeee, with Kevin watching out of the window? You wouldn't!!!" (panting in sexual expectation)

"Oh yes I would. Now close your eyes. I'm going to come behind you!"

(Oh God, this will be fantastic!)

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH....oooooooooo you rotten bastard....oh bloody hell!"

"Right I said I'd give you something you deserved. That should have cooled you off! Now for Christ's sake, finish the bloody windows and leave me in peace to read me mag!"
That was quite a show for the neighbours! It will give Kevin something to think about.
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, July 9, 2018

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for July 8

Who buys the implements? Let's see:

Anon 1: I purchase all the implements.

Arched one: About 50/50. If I finds an implement I'd like her to use I'll buy it. If she finds something she wants to use on me she buys it.

NoraJean: I can't remember who bought our very first implement for our 'bedroom only D/s' kink we started over 20 yrs ago; it's a crop and since there was no online ordering in those days, I suspect it was Frank because I'd have been too shy. I do know it was bought from the local feed and tack store. About the same time, I did make us a flogger out of recycled leather from the second hand store. Now in our new ttwd path, we have just recently acquired new implements. Two that I purchased online ... a paddle and a strap ... and one pervertable Frank has retrieved from his garden greenhouse ... a whippy little bamboo tomato stake ... Yeouch! ... Frank also has his eye on a split tawse ... I'll have to do the ordering as he is not an online shopper. I think I'll wait until he insists ;))

Windy: Well, I am a newbie, so I have taken advice from blogs.

First, it was on Amy's blog, but was a post by Bonnie. A leather over wood hairbrush paddle appropriately named THUD. He mostly stays in the drawer as he is very heavy duty.

Then, mostly recently, again on Amy's blog, she has something called Sir Strap. We have not named ours yet, but he is a serious fella, but it is actually working out quite nicely here according to me and to Storm.

Storm does all the actual purchasing... and did research on the 2nd implement as well beforehand. That's our story.

Fondles: We have both bought spanking implements, separately as well as together.

Roz: We have mostly purchased implements together, though I have purchased a couple on my own.

Sir Wendel: We both buy spanking implements. It is especially fun to buy the household items that are great for spanking.

Bonnie: Randy jokes, "If you bring one more implement into this house, I'm going to beat your butt with it." The truth is that we both do, usually separately, but occasionally together.

Baxter: My wife was along when I looked at the wooden spoon in the hardware store and when I looked at the wooden paddle in the cooking store. And then in preparation for my knee operation, we bought this very long shoe horn, probably 2.5 feet long, and my wife has been spanking me with that ever since. Very stingy.

Minelle: Most of our implements have actually been gifts.....
I really want to purchase a few fun ones from the net.

Ronnie: We've both bought separately and a couple of times together.

Subone: He tells me what he wants and I try and find it. When I find it and he says ok I buy it.

Anon 2: Most I buy ! some we buy together. When we buy together he has to make sure the clerk knows that they will be used on him. Funny how many different reactions that can get.

A.J.: Together. But rarely as all my SO's (and me, too!) prefer the bare hand.

The one time I demonstrated some "independent initiative" was the one time I told you about in a real-life story where I got the owner of an antiques store involved. Uhhhhh... Yeah. That was a mistake. A BIG one.

Yorkie: Even though I am the one who is spanked I am the driver in our activities and I am the one who buys the implements.

Rosco: I have purchased most of them for my wife Irene to use on me as she sees fit. Originally spanking was my idea, but she might even enjoy it more than I do at this point.

At first she used hairbrushes and ping pong paddles, but then we happened to be alone in the tack room at a place where horses were kept. Nervously she thrashed my bottom with a riding crop hoping nobody would hear. A few weeks later Irene sent me out to buy one. (This was mid 80’s well before online shopping.) I was plenty nervous at the western store as a sexy full figured young woman “helped” me. She offered to show me how much a certain crop would sting, then quickly laughed it off. I bought two crops that day which we kept for some time.

Nowadays buying online or at an adult store is no big deal.

Irene also instructs me to look for switches when we’re out hiking. In our area, wild plum trees often have straight supple shoots in late spring.

She has a strong preference for round handles, and we have yet to find a strap that is totally suitable. I continue to look.

For us it’s mostly whips etc. rather than paddles these days. I wonder how others feel.

I love it when she tells me what implements to get for her and to strip and stand in her closet and wait to be punished.

Hermione: I have bought all the implements we use. I love to shop, but Ron only shops when he needs something, and we certainly don't need any more spanking implements! When we shop together and pass by the kitchen utensils or the bath accessories, he may point out a spoon, spatula or bath brush and grin suggestively, so that's something! I haven't bought any for a long time; we have more than enough.

Anon 3: My wife always, and when I'm present. She has a particular store, the ladies all know her, even have suggestions. It is a reminder that she is in charge, and does not care if others know, I think she enjoys that part.

Thank you all for joining in the discussion, and special thanks to Rosco for a brunch idea.
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, July 8, 2018

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #235


I'm so glad you could make it to today's picnic brunch. Help yourself to a snack from the basket, find a place to sit on the blanket, and let's get started. Our question today is short and sweet.

Who purchases the spanking implements: you, your partner, or both of you?

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, July 7, 2018

You Completed the Caption

Baxter: The naughty girls had heard about an aqua therapy that worked wonders on skin by toughening it up. They thought of their bottoms and how much spankings hurt and gave the therapy a try by going in the pool and letting the water cover their bare bottoms.Little did they know that the water did the opposite of what was claimed (truth in advertising?) and made their bottoms more sensitive. Their next spankings were quite the painful experience with the result of rosy red sore bottoms and the inability to sit down comfortably for a long time

j.stern: A hundred of Garra rufa fish (used in fish pedicures), severely starved as usual, have been dropped in the pool and are already delighted to taste such mouthwatering pairs of buttocks.

KDPierre: And with one bold, downward tug, the auditions for the water ballet version of "50 Shades of Gray" were under way..... even as the producers wrestled with the improbable mechanics of how a spanking could be delivered underwater.

NoraJean: Now for some naked synchronized swimming ... bums up!

Sir Wendel: The gals decided a bit of pre-cooling treatment was needed before their spankings.

Rosco: So so happy my goggles didn’t fog up today. Now how long can I hold my breath? Long enough for 8 kisses?

Hermione: Underwater spankings were the latest fad at the Maple Leaf Spanking Club, and there was always a lineup.
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, July 6, 2018

Friday FUN

It's been a long time since I posted Anne Taintor pictures here, so let's have fun with this oh-so-liberated lady from the Fifties.



































Happy Friday!
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, July 5, 2018

Complete the Caption

We're having a heatwave here in Canada, and boy, do I need to cool off! This looks like a fine way to do it, but why are those bottoms being lowered?

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

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Glorious Fourth


Happy Independence Day to all my American readers.

From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

From the Top Shelf - the Fordham Hunt

I don't know about you, but I love 'horsey' stories where girls in riding jodhpurs get their just desserts  (and wouldn't mind a little of it myself), and here's one from Janus called The Fordham Hunt by S.T. Rogers.
Alan was in a foul mood and no mistake. Penny, my beloved nineteen year old 'accomplice' , was standing in the corner of the room, her riding breeches around her knees, facing the wall and whimpering quietly.

"Well?" The one word was addressed to me. "Can you explain what happened today?"

It was difficult to know where to begin. However, the expression on Alan's face made me realise I better start somewhere - and soon!

Falteringly, I began my story.

We'd been at the bi-monthly Fordham Hunt. It was one of the few rural events that Penny and I looked forward to, us both being city girls at heart. I think it was the dressing up more than the actual hunting that turned us on; there is something about the riding-uniform that makes the heart race - whether you're wearing it or just looking at it. And after you've spent almost a fortnight mucking out the stables it feels great when you're able to dress up to the nines, even if only for a couple of hours.

"You look fantastic!" Penelope (or Penny, as she preferred to be called) had come up behind me as I stood before the full-sized mirror in our bedroom.

"You don't look too bad yourself," I replied.

We both stood for a while and admired ourselves in the glass. We looked resplendent from head to toe. Black riding hats and blazers - white cravats and breeches (skin tight of course) and knee-length riding boots.

"Do you think there will be any good-looking spunks at the hunt today, Pamela?" Penny asked with a sly grin.

'Spunks' was her latest in-word. It was a derivation of 'hunks' and I think she picked it up from watching one of the current ubiquitous Australian soap-operas.

"I really wouldn't know, my dear. I attend the hunt to savour the thrill of the chase, not to ogle the gentlemen present." I said this with mock snootiness and we both fell into a fit of giggles.

"Are you two ready yet?" Cilla called from downstairs.

"Yes, Cilla!" we replied in unison before descending.

Penny and I had been employed at Elwood stables for over a year; firstly on work experience and then as fully fledged employees. Alan and Cilla were husband and wife. Our employers, they were in their mid-forties and had run the stables for the best part of twenty years. Penny, my best friend from way back in our schooldays, had a crush on Alan (as did I) and teased him regularly - so much so that he had, on several occasions, threatened to put her over his knee and give her a 'damn good spanking'.

I knew for sure that this would have done nothing to improve her behaviour. Penny had confessed to me on several occasions while we were esconced in our bedroom late at night that she would like nothing better than for Alan to carry out his threats. "Can you imagine it?" she would whisper throatily, "Over his knee with your knickers down..." Then her eyes would glaze over and she'd drift off into her own little fantasy world. I couldn't blame her ; I had fantasised about a similar scenario myself.

Still I think Alan took Penny's teasing in good spirits. Secretly, I think he was chuffed to have two pretty young women working for him (Penny was nineteen and I had just turned twenty) - especially when he knew both of us fancied him! He had the kind of mature good looks that makes girls swoon.

His wife, Cilla, generally turned a blind eye to our flirting with him, but occasionally I thought I saw a flash of temper cross her face. She was a strict looking woman; rather like the prim, middle-aged school-ma'am you remember from your youth, with her raven hair drawn up and tied in a severe bun. She was quiet and solemn too - as though she kept all her feelings wrapped within herself. For that reason I think Alan was glad of our presence; Penny and I gave him a little light relief with our flirting and our youthful exuberance.

It turned out that there were some great looking guys at the hunt and it was all Penny and I could do to concentrate on our riding. There was one chap in particular that Penny had her eye on; Captain Tyrrell, the son of a local landowner. I had to admit that he was rather gorgeous.

"And he's rich," enthused Penny. "Absolutely loaded from what I hear."

"So how is the spider going to catch the fly?" I enquired.

"This little spider has a plan," she replied and promptly wheeled her thoroughbred away from the chasing pack. I could only wonder what the girl was up to as I turned to follow her.

Penny rode towards the copse on Mare's Tail Hill just as the sound of thunder filled the gloomy air. We both pulled up under the trees and dismounted as the rain began to come down in angled sheets.

"Well," I said eventually, " I don't think you came up here just to get out of the rain, did you? What have you got in mind?"

She responded to my question with one of her own.

"Pamela, do you think I've got a nice bottom?"

Penny put her white-gloved hands on my horse's stirrup for support and bent forward at the waist. "Well, go on then, have a good look and tell me what you think," she urged.

Somewhat bemused by her request, I used my riding-crop to flick the back of her blazer up and had a good look at her backside. Encased in those riding breeches, I had to admit that her bottom was gorgeous and I told her so.

"And I'm no lesbian!" I added hastily.

"That's not what I've heard," she teased.

I wasn't standing for her impudence so I raised my crop and brought it down across her pert rear with a satisfying thwaaack.

"Aooowwwwwwww!" she cried, unconvincingly, and wiggled her bottom suggestively.

I was in two minds whether to give her another smack when she shot upright and turned to face me. She still had that mischievous grin on her face as we stood facing one another.

"Well, come on then. What have you got in mind?" I asked.

She explained that she had been trying for ages to catch the eye of Captain Tyrrell.

"Well he's here today, isn't he? He's riding with the hunt. Why don't you use your girlish charms to ensnare him. Isn't that what you usually -"

Penny interrupted. "But you don't understand," she said, pouting. "There is so much competition, I don't stand a chance. Have you seen how many pretty girls are out riding today. And all of them doing their utmost to attract his attention. Not only is he gorgeous but he's filthy rich into the bargain. Oh Pamela, I just have to have him."

Just then a rumble of thunder shook the heavens. I nearly jumped out of my skin and I was so glad Penny had brought us to the shelter of the trees. Penny didn't even flinch - so wrapped up was she in her lewd thoughts about young Captain Tyrrell. She lowered her voice confidentially:

"I've got an idea...."

* * *

By the time we rejoined the hunt, after taking a short cut through various storm-gullies, phase one of Penny's plan was about to be put into action. First of all she caught up with Captain Tyrrell and rode close enough alongside him to attract his attention; fetching him seductive sidelong glances all the while. I was riding slightly behind and to the left of them and I could see him take the bait - his head was fixed in her direction and he wasn't even looking where he was going - quite a risky thing to do when galloping in driving rain.

Little did he know that Penny, my darling young friend, was merely warming him up.

When she felt the time was right, Penny began to pull up slightly and drop back to the rear of the pack. The young Captain followed suit and I followed them - I didn't want to miss any of the action.

Riding within the hunt, Penny had kept her shapely bottom firmly in the saddle. Now that her only observer was Captain Tyrrell (and, of course, myself) she felt confident enough to put the crux of her plan into action. She rode slightly ahead of him and stood up in the saddle in a jockey's stance; head low and bottom up high.

I giggled at the gasp of astonishment from the young Captain when he was confronted with the sight of Penny's bare bottom cheeks framed in the split oval of her riding breeches.

Back at the copse, I had (on Penny's instructions) cut a long gash down the backside of her breeches with a penknife. Then I had pulled the sides apart sufficiently to allow an almost perfect view of the whole of her bottom - her panties being pulled up tautly between her cheeks - prettily framed by the straining white material.

I had questioned the logic of what she was doing and whether she realised the implications of her little stunt if it were to go wrong.

"My bare bottom is for Captain Tyrrell's eyes only," she smiled. "If anyone else happens to observe it, I can explain it away by saying that I fell from my horse whilst you and I were split from the hunt and my breeches were torn in the process. You'll back me up, won't you, Pamela?"

"I don't know about that. I want you to know I thoroughly disapprove of your actions, young lady," I replied, tapping my riding-crop against my thigh. I was trying to look severe and failing. It was impossible to suppress a grin. She was a sassy lass and no mistake.

And thus it happened that on the occasion of the 385th Fordham Hunt, Captain James Tyrrell got a splendid view of my nineteen year old friend's bare posterior in all its girlish splendour. Penny kept glancing back at him as she thrust her bottom high in the air and it bobbed up and down with the motion of her steed.

In her eyes was the intense and serious expression that young ladies give only to the man they have chosen as their potential mate. Poor Master Tyrrell's eyes were torn between her straining nether regions and her pretty face.

Penny kept up her teasing for all of five minutes and Captain Tyrrell seemed only too happy to keep pace behind her while she was showing off for all she was worth.

Suddenly, as I wondered how long Penny intended to continue with her caprice, a huge bolt of lightning rent the air and struck a tall, decaying cedar tree to the left of us. The horses were startled and the hunt was halted as each rider struggled to control his frightened mount. All, that is, except poor Penny whose thoroughbred, Jasper, refused to yield to her attempts to control him. The terrified horse took off wildly in the direction of nearby Fordham - not before careering through the rest of the static riders and giving every last one of them an explicit view of Penny's naked backside.

The scene was so incongruous that I couldn't help but laugh as I set off in pursuit of my wicked little friend. Up ahead I could see the village of Fordham growing nearer. In the mid-distance was Penny, still trying to gain control of her frightened mount.

Jasper was having none of it.

I realised, with some dismay, what Jasper was going to do. From past experience, I knew that whenever he was unnerved, he bolted for home. He was heading back to the safety of Alan's stables and taking his unwilling, bare-bottomed, rider with him.

Jasper approached the low wall that flanked the road into Fordham and cleared it in one smooth motion. It occurred to me that Penny might try to jump clear but I soon realised this would be impossible to do safely. The horse was simply galloping too quickly.

Having some experience of jumps, I decided to attempt the wall myself for to dismount and find a gate would have taken far too long and, besides, I knew that Pandora, my mare, was perfectly capable of clearing it.


Once over, I followed Penny and her runaway mount into the village High Street. Cars were forced to veer out of the way of the rampaging animal as it headed for the refuge of the stables. Pedestrians looked on in astonishment as the bare-bottomed girl on horseback galloped past.

I saw several people, probably tourists, take photos of Penny in her shameful predicament. At one point, Jasper pulled up as a car swerved in front of him near the fountain in Oswald Street. A grubby little man, grinning from ear to ear, raced up behind Penny and took a photograph of her behind as she strained and bucked, trying to control her steed. He must have got a spectacular view. And to top it all, she turned towards him at the precise moment he took the shot so he captured her hapless, red-faced embarrassment as well as her naked bottom!

If I hadn't been so concerned for my friend's safety, I would have dismounted and shoved his camera where the sun doesn't shine. Meanwhile, as I expected, Jasper sped into Cockspur Lane and turned into Elwood Stables. I wondered what on earth Alan and Cilla would make of it all.

* * *

"So this is how you repay my kindness!"

Alan was furious. He paced to and fro muttering under his breath. It was now almost three hours since Penny had made her undignified arrival at the stables. She was standing in the corner of the living-room, facing the wall. Her mutilated breeches had been yanked down to her knees by Cilla, and she was whimpering like a chastened schoolgirl.

"Where would you two have been if I'd not taken you off the streets of London and given you a job here? You enjoy full room and board and a decent salary...my wife and I treat you well enough, don't we?"

He paused and went to the settee where he picked up Penny's riding-crop. Somehow I began to sense that his little tantrum was just for show; you can tell when someone is genuinely angry. In fact I'd have said he was more excited than irritated. I think Penny sensed this too and had picked up on his excitement - her moanings and whimperings were more of titillation than fear. The room was charged with an unspoken eroticism and even Cilla, who stood impassively beside her husband, looked to be suppressing some kind of innate thrill.

"One hour ago," he continued, " I received irate phone calls from Captain Tyrrell and other members of the Fordham Hunt describing Penelope's disgusting behaviour; displaying her naked backside to all and sundry and to Captain Tyrrell in particular."

He turned his attention to me.

"As for you, Pamela," he said, "I expected a lot more. After all you are the elder and I thought you had a sensible head on your shoulders. And don't look innocent with me! Captain Tyrrell's gamekeeper informs me that he plainly saw you cutting Penelope's breeches at Mare's Tail Hill. But when you arrived back from the hunt, you had the audacity to lie to me. Some nonsense about Penny tearing her breeches in a fall."

He angrily swished the riding-crop through the air. "I have been far too lenient with you two for far too long," he said. "It's high time both of you received a sound lesson in behaviour befitting young ladies."

He turned to Penny. "Get over here, girl!" he growled.

Penny turned and waddled towards him - her legs hampered by the breeches around her knees. Alan pointed to the heavy coffee table in the middle of the room. "Kneel!" he commanded. I looked over at Cilla as Penny took up her humiliating position on the low table. As usual she was suppressing any outward emotion but I could tell by her eyes and posture that she was filled with eager anticipation.

"Now," said Alan, rolling up his sleeve, "when you display your bare bottom in future, it will be to me. And I will deal with it thus..."

He brought the whip down on Penny's trembling buttocks with a mild thwack. Penny gave a startled grunt and threw her gloved hands back to protect her exposed flesh.

"Take those hands away at once, my girl," said Alan. "And while you're at it you can get that bottom higher. Come on, girl, don't be shy! I want that bottom as high in the air as you can possibly get it."

Penny obeyed immediately, pushing her head low so that her cheek touched the cold wood, arching her back and pushing her rear out and up until Alan grunted approvingly. Cilla came over and adjusted Penny's breeches; pulling them lower towards her riding boots, then raising the tails of the girl's blazer so that her bottom was fully displayed. The whiteness of her full bottom was emphasised splendidly by the framing effect of her black blazer and riding boots.

"That's better," said Alan, swishing the crop to his side and bringing it down again on Penny's backside.

"AOWWWWWWWWHHH!"

I shuffled uneasily as Penny cried out; I knew it would be my turn soon. I felt a mixture of ecstasy and trepidation and knew that my face was flushed with both. Hadn't I fantasised about this very situation? Hadn't Penny too? Despite her cries, I sensed a thrill in Penny that went beyond a normal reaction to physical chastisement. Her eyes caught mine and despite her play acting I knew instinctively that she was actively enjoying her punishment.

Alan brought the riding-crop down again...and again....and again, ignoring Penny's crocodile tears and childish cries. She was moving her bottom suggestively, grinding and bucking her hips in response to every blow. It seemed as though she was urging him on; pushing her backside up and back to meet the whip.

Alan's face became flushed with exertion - but nowhere near as flushed as my younger friend's bare arse. Cilla stood with her arms crossed, a slight smile playing on her thin red lips. She gave a nod of approval as each blow struck home and Penny's bottom quivered with each impact. Perhaps she was savouring our comeuppance for all the times we had flirted with her handsome husband.

Stopping eventually, Alan drew the back of his hand over his brow. "Right," he said, "Get to your feet, my girl!" He pulled Penny off the coffee table. My friend made a half-hearted attempt to pull up her breeches but he merely laughed.

"I haven't finished with you yet, young lady,"he said. Holding Penny by the arm, he moved to the armchair, sat thereon, and unceremoniously threw her across his knee.

"Consider yourself lucky," he said, "that I don't take you into the centre of the village and do this in front of everybody. The entire population has seen your bare bottom already today so it wouldn't come as a shock to see it again!"

Penny commenced kicking her legs in horror at such a suggestion, but Alan coolly began to spank her bottom, ignoring her protestations. With one of his large hands he held both her wrists against the small of her back whilst he belaboured her quivering backside with the other.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she protested indignantly.

"Be quiet, girl," ordered Cilla. "One day you will thank my husband for showing you the meaning of discipline."

Alan went on to give Penny the soundest hand-spanking any nineteen year old girl has ever received; relentless and thorough. When he finally finished, my crestfallen (but highly aroused) friend was sent to stand in the corner - ordered to hold up the tails of her blazer so that her tanned backside was fully on display.

Then, of course, it was my turn. Being the elder, I was dealt with even more thoroughly. The air in the room still seemed charged with primitive and carnal emotion as Cilla ordered me to the centre of the room and, I must confess, I found it quite intoxicating; as though some destiny was being fulfilled which had been suppressed and put off for far too long.

Firstly, Cilla ordered me to pull my breeches down to the tops of my riding boots. "Now," she said firmly, "get your panties down. Stand with your legs wide apart and bend over!"

I did as ordered. Cilla produced a thin cane whilst I adopted the position; clasping my booted ankles and pushing my vulnerable bare backside up and back. It was difficult to hold this position as Cilla applied the cane , but I did my very best while she belaboured my bottom and I blubbered in pain.

She eventually tired of this position and I was made to lie flat on my back on the coffee table with my legs straight up in the air. Alan held my boots to provide some stability whilst he applied the riding-crop to my brightly flushed buttocks. As with Penny, he made a show of strength but pulled each stroke so that the actual blows were more stimulating than painful.

My final humiliation was to be placed over Cilla's knee and given a hand-spanking that made Penny's ordeal look like a slap on the wrist. I found this to be the most exhilarating part of the punishment session. So much so that, despite my best intentions, I had the most exquisite orgasm I had ever had as I ground my hips against my punisher's thighs. My crotch kept brushing against the suspender straps beneath the thin material of her skirt and the mix of shame and sublime pleasure pushed me almost to boiling point. I tried to make my orgasmic cry of pleasure sound like a cry of discomfort, but I don't think it worked and really I didn't care. I had been opened like a book for all to read and nothing would ever be the same again.

When it was over, Penny and I were made to stand in the centre of the room while Alan and Cilla made tea; our breeches still down and our blazers held high above our waists.

They sat casually on the sofa sipping their tea and chatting as we paraded our naked charms in front of them. At one point Penny made to rub her glowing cheeks. She was immediately reprimanded by Cilla and told, "Keep your hands where they are." When they had finished their tea we were finally allowed to go to our room.

In all, I think our combined punishment lasted the best part of two hours. Afterwards, in our bedroom, we applied cold cream to each others bottoms and talked about the day's events. We agreed that it had been the most unusual day we'd had since arriving in the countryside.

And the most exciting.......

The events I have described occurred seven years ago. Penny and I are in our mid twenties now and have long since moved back to the city. We both went to college and have good jobs. Penny is a solicitor and I am a secondary school teacher. Today, Saturday, I will go into town and meet Penny at the usual place. We will go into a restaurant and chat as we always do when we meet.

But the most important aspect of the day will be utmost in our minds as it has been every Saturday since we left the stables. We will go to the station and board a train bound for Fordham. We will take a taxi from the station and arrive at Elwood Stables ten minutes late...as we always do. Alan and Cilla will be 'angry' that we are late and we will be suitably apologetic. But they won't be satisfied with an apology.

And then the real business of the day will begin - just as it did seven years ago when we returned from the Fordham Hunt.
I feel like having a brisk canter around the field right now. Won't you join me?
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, July 2, 2018

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for July 1

Have you ever refused a spanking?

Yorkie: Well, we don't do punishments or discipline. All my spankings are for fun and erotic purposes and I am the one calling the shots. However, my wife will occasionally suggest that seeing as the house is empty we could...you know but with recent family trouble I wasn't in the mood when she suggested this the other day so I guess I did "refuse" but as it turned out, a few hours later I was in the mood and we did have some fun.
Consequences? None whatsoever. :) Just another delightful spanking from my wife and some great sex afterwards. Who could ask for more?

Pete: Last night, i was harshly punished. Without going into details i deserved every bruise i wear today. My wife was furious that i had too many beers at our sons ( 13 & 14 ) swim meets and instead of calling her i drove home. Two hours later my father in law came over took the boys to their house for their usual weekend. The moment they left, it was 10 pm but she took a belt, a paddle and her hand to my ass.
Usually in the morning, after a spanking all is well. Not today. She bent me over the sink in the kitchen and used belt on my already bruised ass. Then she left me drove to her folks for the weekend and left me a list of chores that were to be done by the time she comes back on monday.

Windy: Nope, not yet! I don't plan to either! Yikes!

Bonnie: Yes, it's happened. I have the right and the responsibility to safeword out if I am truly in trouble. There have been times when I felt sick or hurting in a place I'm not supposed to hurt or too exhausted or stressed out. I try to always accept his percussive gifts graciously, but there are rare occasions when a spanking just isn't what I need.

The only repercussions are that I get the spanking a different day.

Roz: Happy Canada Day Hermione and Ron.

I don't know I can recall actually refusing a spanking in the past, but I have certainly protested a spanking on many occasions. Let's just say, the spanking always happened regardless.

Fondles: I think there was ONE occasion when things weren't quite right "mentally" for both of us and that spanking went horribly wrong.

I did call a stop to it because it was hurting in a way that it wasn't supposed to.

The result was a good and heartfelt conversation and a proper makeup spanking the day after. Looking back I'm glad it didn't spell the end of spankings for us forever.

Happy Canada Day!

Sir Wendel: If one of us is sick then the spankings get postponed.

Baxter: very rarely do I refuse a playful spanking from my wife as she does not spank me as often as I want. So when she grabs an implement or suggests I need a spanking, I bare my bottom and let her have at.

abby: I have a safe word to stop a spanking, although I have never used it, I have no doubts that it would stop one immediately. There have been rare times when I am just 'not int the mood'...M knows just how to change that mood, with some playful fum.

A.J.: Has it ever happened? Sure! I/we only spank for the sexiness of it, but if one of us is not in the mood or other events getting in the way mentally or health-wise, nothing happens.

Rosco: I can’t think of a time, but it may have happened once or twice in the last 38 years when Irene has been spanking me, paddling me, tying me up, whipping me etc.

All I can think is sometimes I’ll ask if I can take a shower first - I like to feel clean. I love it when she’s been working out or doing something that makes her a bit sweaty- especially between the legs.

Hermione: Sometimes I don't feel much like one but, as I am the submissive in our relationship, I never outright refuse. I take what Ron cares to dish out, when and where he decides. I usually end up enjoying myself (in an ouchy sort of way). Having said that, if I see that Ron looks tired, or I have been really busy and am wiped out, then I can suggest postponing our play for another day and he usually agrees.

Thank you all for joining in this weekend! Have a safe week!
From Hermione's Heart