The Benefits of Snow

We have had record amounts of snow this winter. Ron has been out shoveling nearly every day, and sometimes several times a day. It's hard and tiring work, and he's been getting a real workout.
His upper body strength has increased quite remarkably.
Especially in his strong right arm.
I hope it snows again tonight.

Should I be spanked for saying that?

The Club

One of the first comments I received on my very first post was from swan, who welcomed me to the club.
That really got me thinking. I'm pretty much a loner, and usually do my best to avoid group activities. And now here I am, a member of a club, feeling comfortable about it, and enjoying being part of the blogging world that up till now I had only peered into from outside.
The last time I really felt like part of a group was during the year after graduating from University, when I returned to get a Bachelor of Education degree. For that single year, we were all equals. There were no in-crowds, no established cliques, no seniors and juniors. We were a very mixed group of students of all ages and from all parts of the province and beyond. Our single shared interest was education, although each of us majored in a unique combination of specialties, based on individual expertise and interests. We shared our triumphs and terrors of the student teaching rounds, and got through the year by supporting one another.
Until today, that year had been the best year of my life. Now I feel that, as a blogger, I am again on a level playing field. We live all over the world, with unique lifestyles, perspectives and opinions. Our common enthusiasm for some form of spanking is what binds us loosely together.
One of the terms I learned in my first month at the college was 'isolate'. An isolate is a child who stands by himself at recess, eats lunch alone, and is always chosen last for teams. When our professor first explained that term, a chorus of murmurs rippled around the room. Many of the people in my class had been isolates. When we discussed it, we found that it was partly what had motivated us to become teachers. Almost unanimously, we wanted to prevent other children from suffering as we had.
It's pretty easy to feel like an isolate if you're interested in pursuing a spanking lifestyle and can't find someone to share it with you, or even to understand where you're coming from. It's not easy for many of us to explain or even understand why we are the way we are, and why we do that thing we do.
The other remarkable thing I remember about that year at teachers' college was the fear that had been instilled in some of those young teachers-to-be by their past teachers. In my elementary education classes, it was startling to see educated young adults afraid to play with fingerpaints, make a collage, shake a tambourine, or mime a day at the beach. It was so hard for them to let themselves go and 'colour outside the lines'.
As spankophiles of various persuasions, we are all, to a greater or lesser extent, colouring outside the lines. Our preferences aren't necessarily something we want to advertise to the world, but the blogosphere gives us a safe environment in which to talk about our lives and our preferences. It's okay to 'let go' here.
All in all, it's a pretty great club. Thanks for making me feel welcome.

Your Six Words

Last week I asked my readers to contribute their own six word memoirs about spanking. What an eloquent group of readers you are. Your six word spanking memoirs, submitted by Tops, bottoms, and switches, get right to the heart of the matter.

Loving you, spanking you, loving me.Always the spanker, never the spankee.Ouch, Ouch, Ouch, Ouch, More Please.I came, I saw, I spanked.
In Latin it's "Veni, Vidi, Spanko"Mutual respect, pain, flying, balanced minds.Spank me with love and respect!Beauty lies beyond the rosy cheeks.I saw, I spanked, you came!Over the knee, switch with me.Glowing red bottom, warm loving heart!

Thank you all for contributing.

Craft Time

This one's for Grace.

While idly standing in the kitchen one evening, watching my husband prepare dinner, (I know, I have it pretty good) I happened to look down at his belt. It was brown leather, wide and soft from years of use, and I started thinking about how it would feel across my bottom. I stared at it, lost in thought.

“What’s the matter?” Ron asked.

“I was just looking at your belt. I’d like you to use it the next time you spank me”, I replied.

“So you’ve been thinking about men’s belts?”

“Not all men’s belts, just yours”.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that I got my wish. It was the first belt experience for both of us. First, Ron tried a few strokes with a single thickness. Very nice. Then the feel changed dramatically. I looked back and saw that he had doubled it. The extra weight gave it more impact, and it felt, if you can believe it, like a caress. Yes, I definitely wanted more of this, and he gave it to me. When he stopped, the lovemaking that followed was especially satisfying.

Now, I am just as turned on by the sound of a belt sliding through loops as anyone else, but I decided that if the belt were stored along with the other implements in the bedside table, it would be used more often. And it did seem somewhat awkward to hold two thicknesses of belt, plus a large buckle, in one hand, while spanking a wiggling target.

Always thinking of my man’s comfort, I went to a large thrift store and searched for a similar belt. It was quite fun, actually, seeing all those well-worn leather belts hanging up in neat rows and imagining the many bottoms that might have felt them. I found a nice, wide one, supple and not too long.

At home, I buckled the belt on the first hole and cut off the excess leather. Then I pressed it so that the buckle lay flat. It looked just the right length. To keep it together and provide a grippable handle, I wound it with a length of vet wrap – a self-adhesive bandage used to secure dressings on animals. Too bad the only colour I had on hand was bright orange. Oh, well.

I proudly presented my handiwork to Ron that evening. His first comment was not encouraging.

“What size is it? I suppose you didn’t look”, he said.

“Yes, I did look. It’s a size 38. Why? Do you want to wear it too? I cut the end off”.

“Oh, well, I guess not, then. But it’s so bright.”

“The colour doesn’t matter." Geesh. “But you’ll try it, right?”

Ron knew when he was beaten (and when I would be). So after a suitable wait of a week or two, so it would seem like his idea, he opened the toy drawer at spanking time.

“What implement would you like today? This one?” and held up a wooden back massager with little wheels.

“Very funny. No, I don’t think so.”

“Then how about this” and he held up the orange belt.

I grinned. “Mmmmm, good choice.”

It felt just as delicious as the other belt had. As he smacked first one cheek and then the other, I found myself rolling my hips and arching up to make contact with the leather as it fell. I wanted it to go on forever. When he finally put down the new toy I was very eager for his attention in other matters.

Afterward, as we lay curled together, exhausted, Ron smiled and said, “I guess that belt needs to be added to the rotation.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Six Words

Two years ago, editor Larry Smith invited readers to send him a six word memoir of their lives. The response was so overwhelming that it resulted in a New York Times bestseller.

Ron and I tried it using a spanking theme and here's what we came up with.

Spank them and they will come
Spank me, hug me, repeat daily

You can probably guess who wrote which one!

I invite you to come up with a six word memoir that summarizes what spanking means in your life, how it has affected you, or simply how much you enjoy it. Funny, serious, poignant - anything goes! Leave a comment, or email me.

I'll share the results with you next week.

Miss Granger, Assume the Position

For Harry Potter fans who would really like to see my alter ego get her come-uppance, you can read about Hermione's encounter with Professor Snape after she resorts to dishonest means in his class in A Private Lesson.

The High Cost of Renting

It seems that in France, you can get a reduction in your rent for providing certain services. Some of these services are simply some sort of housekeeping or home maintenance, but the BBC reports that:

"...sometimes...the requests are sexual, demeaning, bordering on the perverse. "Sex twice a month," is one blunt demand. Another asks for someone "open in spirit and elsewhere"."

It sounds like spanking in exchange for rent is a distinct possibility. The only thing to make sure of before signing a lease is whether the renter is to be the spanker or the spankee.

That would be even more important than location, location, location.

School Discipline, Sixties Style

Education has changed quite a bit since I attended elementary school. We started the day by praying, saluting the British flag (Canada didn't have a flag way back then) and singing God Save the Queen. We had real blackboards made from giant slabs of smooth black slate. And we had discipline.
Corporal punishment was a well-accepted fact of life in those days. On several occasions I saw boys being smacked across the palms of their hands with a wooden ruler by a teacher. A really naughty boy would be sent to the principal's office for a strapping on his hands. Girls were punished by being kept after school for an hour or so. If you missed the school bus and had to take a city bus or walk home in the dark, that was just the way it was.
I believe the strap was still use in the high school I attended. I never saw a teacher use a ruler there, because girls and boys were put into separate classes. Our punishment was writing lines. (For those of you who still do this, if you write with two pens at once, it takes half as long. No one will notice the difference if they are the same colour.)
I never saw a spanking while at school, but I do remember two separate instances of it being talked about.
The first was when Mr. G had the pleasure of teaching geography to 25 inattentive 12-year-old girls twice a week. For most of us, it was our first experience of having a male teacher. Mr. G would frequently admonish us to hand in our homework on time or else, in his words, "I will spank". Of course, we all knew he wouldn't, and I looked forward to each of his classes in the hopes of hearing that word again. Sometimes he would vary it by saying, "If you haven't got your assignment finished by Friday, what will I do, Patty?" and Patty, or whomever he chose, would say, "Spank". Sadly, he never asked me that question.
The second occasion was during my final year of high school. In order to graduate, everyone had to pass a standard set of 12 exams set by the Province. The last month of the school year was spent studying, reviewing and writing practice exams in all subjects.

Our math teacher, Mr. J, was feared by everyone, although he could be humorous if he chose. He called us all by our last names, prefaced with Mr. or Miss unless he was angry. One afternoon, he asked me a question related to the problem he was doing on the board. I gave the wrong answer. (Can you imagine this ever happening to Hermione?) He knew I could do better and hadn't been trying. He glared at me and growled, "Granger, I could spank you."

I distinctly remember squirming in my chair, and my face must have turned bright red. I have no idea what went on for the remainder of the class. I was very embarrassed, but also extremely excited. The image remained in my mind, and, as I recall, I scored very well on the math exam.

The Shoemaker

With apologies to The Spanking Writers

Recently I stopped in at a small shoe repair shop on the way home from work to have a leather garment repaired. I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't anything kinky, only an ordinary jacket.

I had never been to this particular establishment before since I usually patronized one close to my office, but this shop was the only one in town equipped to handle all leather items, not just shoes.

The front of the shop looked like an ordinary shoe store; the walls were lined with shelves full of shoes and boots. On the whole, the merchandise seemed functional rather than fashionable.

At the back was a service counter where the repairs were handled. Behind the counter was a large window that permitted an unobstructed view of the workroom beyond. While I waited to be served I watched a white-haired man busily stitching away at an ancient sewing machine. Next to him was a rail upon which were draped what looked like belts, straps, and a couple of two-tailed tawses. A young woman, dressed in a sweater and pleated skirt, stood beside the man, watching him somewhat nervously.

This, I imagined, was the room where the special orders for disciplinary implements were handled. In my mind I saw what would happen once the man finished the item he was working on.

He would gesture to the young woman to take her position at the work table. She would bend over, lift her skirt and lower her knickers, then hold firmly to the far edge of the table and wait for the master shoemaker to perform the quality control test required for all items that were produced in his shop. Six hard strokes were usually enough to confirm the excellent quality of his workmanship.

The shoemaker stopped his machine and looked up.

What do you think happened next?

Meme the First

I've never done a meme before, but I thought you might like to know a little bit about me.

1. What is your occupation? Information Technology Professional (I do stuff on a computer.)

2. What color are your socks right now? Grey angora, with a black, white and pink pattern.

3. What are you listening to right now? Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel.

4. Last thing you ate? A homemade raisin scone.
Now I've broken my rule about no breakfast talk!

5. Can you drive a stick shift? I learned in a truck with three on the tree, and my first car had four on the floor.

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Blue.

7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? A colleague.

8. Do you like the person who sent this to you? I found it on Ebay. No, actually I stole it from Bonnie, and I like her tremendously!

9. How old are you? A year older than I was a week ago.

10. Favorite drink? White wine.

11. What is your favorite sport to watch? Equestrian events.
Aargh. I've broken the no-sports rule too! I need to be spanked!

12. Have you ever dyed your hair? Frequently.

13. Pets? A variety, including hundreds of Red Wigglers.
There goes the third rule - no explicit pictures. Sigh!

14. Favorite food? Pizza of any kind. My personal favourite is made with basil pesto, chicken, roasted red peppers, blue cheese, and mozzerella.

15. What was the last movie you watched? Elephant.

16. What was the last book you read? Same Soul, Many Bodies by Brian Weiss.

17. What do you do to vent anger? I never vent. No, never. Well, hardly ever!

18. What was your favorite toy as a child? A collection of small plastic farm animals. I spent hours inventing stories about them.

19. What is your favorite season? Spring.

20. Hugs or kisses? Kisses from Ron. Hugs from everyone else.

21. Cherries, blueberries or strawberries? Cherries for eating by the handful, blueberries as a flavour.


And there you have it!

Gerald's Game

It wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but it sure was fun!

My husband Ron is a big fan of Stephen King's novels. After finishing Gerald's Game, a horror story about a bondage scene gone terribly wrong, he gave it to me to read, assuring me that I'd enjoy it.

I sure did. Bondage is definitely something I have always wanted to explore with him, but I'd never mentioned it before. I will admit that when we bought our current bed, I had chosen a wrought iron headboard for its bondage possibilities.

I assumed that by giving me the book to read, Ron had made the first move, So after I finished it, I asked, "Would you like to play Gerald's Game?"

"I guess so."

That was all I needed to hear. The next time I found an opportunity to visit an adult toy store, I bought some elegant silver vinyl wrist cuffs. I then went a regular hardware store for some associated hardware, figuring that ropes would be too complicated. I also wanted to be sure I could free myself if need be. Not that I thought Ron would come to the same end that Gerald had, but still. So I chose double-headed swivel clips and two D-shaped clips. I put everything into a little white box then planned my next move.

I found the courage to take the next step as I was preparing for an overnight trip away from home. I wrote a note that said, "Want to give this a try?" put it on top of the the box, and left the box on Ron's nightstand.

When I returned home, the first thing I did was check the bedroom. The box, minus the note, was on the lower shelf of the nightstand, beside the riding crop. So, the ball was in his court, and I waited anxiously to see what would happen after he'd had a chance to think about it.

No mention was made of the contents of the little box, though, so after a decent interval I brought up the subject while we were having dinner out one evening.

"Have you given any thought to trying out the wrist cuffs?"
"That's really not my kind of thing."

Oh. Not the answer I had expected. He could see the shocked expression on my face. Okay, we were in a public place so I couldn't sulk and cry, and he couldn't shout and walk away. I put on a convincing smile and tried the mature approach.

"How about if we just have a walkthrough. No sex, no spanking. Just try out the hardware. You might like it."

Silence.

Then, "Okay."

Whew!

A couple of days later, Ron announced that we would have a date the next afternoon "to try out those handcuffs". And we did.

The butterflies in my stomach were really going to town by the time we were ready to start. We both undressed, I lay down on the bed and Ron opened the white box. It took a couple of adjustments before the cuffs were tight enough. Then the hardware had to be fastened to them, and to the bed. It was a little complicated, and that was when the laughing and joking started. I was nervous and couldn't stop giggling as he struggled to assemble the pieces. He had to straddle me to attach the second restraint, and managed to anchor me so that my arms were much farther apart then I would have liked, but that was okay.

"Are you uncomfortable?"
"Yes."
"Good. I'm going to go watch football."
"Hey! Come back here!"

Ron did get off the bed, and a mild wave of panic swirled through me. I couldn't see what he was doing, but heard a drawer open. He was back in a moment and I felt the leather paddle on my bottom. Then he began spanking me slowly. For a brief time the only sounds were the crack of the paddle on flesh and my gasps and moans.

Then there was another sound, low and far away. The telephone. Ron usually considers any phone call an annoying intrusion. This time, however, he was eager to get it. He stopped spanking and put the paddle down.

"It's probably for you. You'd better answer it", he told me, and proceeded to unfasten one of the restraints from the bed. Then he reached for the cordless phone, which wasn't there. I remembered where I had left it.

"It's in the kitchen."
"I'll go get it." Ron moved toward the door.
"That was the third ring. The machine will get the message."
"Don't you want to hear the message?"
"NO!!"
"You wanted to answer the phone."
Huh? "No, I didn't. Now get back here and tie me up!"

Not the way a woman should speak considering the position, but necessary, I thought. Ron reattached the restraint, picked up the paddle, and resumed spanking. After a suitable amount of discipline, he put the paddle down, pushed my legs apart, and investigated. For someone who was doing something that wasn't 'his kind of thing', he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. Of course, it wasn't my bonds that had aroused him, but my rosy red bottom. He pushed himself inside me and enthusiastically reached an orgasm.

Then it was my turn, and I was very ready. But no sooner had he dipped his fingers into my wetness and gently explored the vicinity than we were treated to more unwelcome sounds. The dogs had started barking furiously.

Great. From were they had been sequestered before we adjourned to the bedroom, it could only be one thing. Ron stopped what he was doing.

"What's that?"
"There's probably someone at the door. Ignore it."
"Who do you think it is?" Oh, no, he was leaving again.
"Probably the same person who phoned. Maybe the mailman. Who cares? Just be quiet and they'll go away."

So we both held our breath and waited. The barking stopped. The caressing resumed, and I relaxed. Yes, this was definitely more like it.

Mmmmm.

After Ron had freed me, he quickly dressed and rushed off to release the hounds, check for messages, bring in the mail, and probably watch football. I rolled onto my back, slowly unbuckled the cuffs and thought about it all. It hadn't gone too badly for a first attempt. We had laughed a lot and broken the ice. I was pretty sure there would be a next time, if I asked for one. Maybe we weren't ready for ankle cuffs just yet, although I could always look, and if I saw some on sale......

It's My Party and I'll Blog if I Want To

My name is Hermione, and today is my birthday. What better way to celebrate than by launching my blog? I have been hesitating to take this step; I was waiting for the right time. Well, as we all know, that magical day in the future when the stars are all perfectly aligned rarely arrives, and this blog was in danger of never seeing the light of day. So because today is yet another reminder that time marches on, I have taken the plunge.

I have studied over the knee at the feet of the best spanking bloggers (thank you, Bonnie, for being my inspiration and my role model) and have decided upon an approach that I think will work for me.

What you won't see here are are explicit pictures, discussions of any team sport, or a description of what I had for breakfast (unless it happens to be a spanking). What you will see are reasonably interesting, hopefully entertaining and possibly informative thoughts and musings related to consensual spanking and its place in my heart and in my life .

I will be posting regularly, although not every day. Please come back any time, and feel free to leave a comment, even if it's just "Hello".

Now I'm going to count to three and press the Publish button. Wish me luck!