The mystery implement from the last post is a keychain! It's far too small to make any real impact on a bare bottom, but it's a nice reminder of things to come.
Thank you for your guesses. I thought most people would think it was a wooden spoon, but it does look like a shoehorn.
It's time again for the monthly Guess the Implement contest. This one won't be as easy as some (although I've said that before and have had to eat my words!) I'm not giving any clues as to its real size, although that in itself might be a clue. You also see only part of the implement.
Leave your guess as a comment, and I will reveal the true identity of this little beauty in a day or two.
I'll bet you're all wondering what I decided on for Ron's Christmas implement. There were a lot of possibilities, but my mind kept returning to a roundish leather paddle that I had seen in a store when I bought "Black Beauty" - our leather slapper. I thought the two would make a lovely set. I found their website and the paddle arrived just in time for Christmas. I was even home at the time and intercepted the parcel when it arrived.
It's not exactly like this, but pretty close.
When Ron opened the gift bag on Christmas morning and unwrapped the paddle, his eyes widened. He turned it over to examine both sides, then remarked that it was pretty heavy-duty, and didn't have much give.
"Yes, well, I'm sure you'll be able to handle it," I reassured him, "and so will I."
"I suppose I can put it under the tree with the rest of the presents. We aren't expecting company." And he put it down among our other opened gifts.
So there it lay until the following afternoon, when Ron said," I'll use the new whacker on you tomorrow."
"Great!"
"So, what's it really for?"
"Huh? It's a paddle. What do you think it's for?" I wasn't expecting that question. Wasn't it obvious?
"It must be for something else. Is it for whacking livestock?"
I guess I've been buying too many implements at the tack shop. "No, it's for discipline, for paddling. It isn't for anything else; it was made specifically for spanking."
"Yeah, right... Is it some kind of spatula?"
"Look, I'll send you the link to the website. All they sell is stuff for spanking."
I suppose Ron was convinced; he didn't mention it again. And in case you were wondering, he handled it like a pro the next day. It felt exactly the way I had hoped it would -- solid and fairly stingy, and the sting didn't lessen over the duration of the spanking. I was still squeaking and squirming when he decided he had made a sufficient impact on my bottom.
There's a tutorial on the Spanking Wiki that shows you step by step how to make a birch rod. The picture of the finished product above is from the tutorial.
I normally have no interest in televised sporting events, but Ron loves American football, and last Sunday was the big game for his team, the Minnesota Vikings. I was busy elsewhere - baking, reading blogs, answering emails, and photographing my culinary efforts for an upcoming blog post. Eventually I wandered down to the family room and joined Ron for a while to keep him company, although I have to admit I was there in body only, and was entertaining myself with Sudoku. I was only half listening to an interview with the quarterback, Brett Favre.
(Why do they all mispronounce his name? I'm as passionate about correct pronunciation as I am about good grammar. Everyone says "Farve" instead of "Fahvrrrre". Or if you're like me and can't roll your Rs, it's perfectly acceptable to drop the R and simply say "Fahve". But I digress.)
The interview suddenly became very interesting when the Fox network's Pam Oliver asked Brett why he smacked butts so often. Then there was a quick succession of clips, with Brett's hand on a butt in each one. His response was that if someone is feeling down, that's his remedy. Favre shared the secret to his technique, explaining that "you don't want to cup it. You want to smack it."
Ron and I exchanged knowing grins, and after the interview was over he said, "He's a butt-whacker too, so I guess you'll be cheering for the Vikings."
This is a charming passage from Maid's Night In, written in 1988 by that prolific writer, Anonymous. I hope you enjoy it.
"We shall go to the attic," he said. His hand held mine--enclasped and covered it. As we rose his foot nudged the wine bottle and it fell. We gazed at each other and smiled.
"You will come, Beatrice? It is for the last time." There was a sadness.
We ascended, our footsteps quiet...no one had ever seen me go to the attic with him. It was our game, our secret. Our purity.
We entered by the ladder and stood. In the far corner near the dormer window stood the rocking horse, grey and mottled. Benign and handsome--polished in its varnished paint--it brooded upon the long gone days. His hand held mine still. He led me forward. My knees touched the brocaded cloth of an armchair whose seat had sagged. Upon it lay a mirror and a brush, both backed with tortoiseshell. They were as I had used of old up here.
He turned his back to me and gazed out through the glass upon the tops of the elms. A trembling arose in me which I stilled. With slow care I removed my dress, my underskirt, and laid them on the chair. Beneath I wore a white batiste chemise with white drawers whose ribbons adorned the pale of my thighs. My silk brown stockings glistened. I waited.
He turned. he regarded me gravely and moved toward me. "You have grown. Even in three years you have grown," he said. "Where shall you ride to?"
I laughed. "To Jericho," I replied. I had always said that though I did not know where it was. Nodding, his hand sought the brush. I held the mirror. With long firm strokes of the bristles he glossed and straightened my hair. Its weight lay across my shoulders, in its lightness. Its goldness shone and he was pleased.
"It is good. The weather is fair for the journey. Will my lady mount?"
We stepped forward. He held the horse's reins to keep it still. Once there had been a time when my legs could hold almost straight upon the horse. Now that I was grown more I had to bend my knees too much. My bottom slid back over the rear of the saddle and projected beyond the smooth grey haunches. He moved behind me and began to rock the horse with one hand. With the other he smacked my outstretched bottom gently.
"My beautiful pumpkin--it is larger now," he murmured. My shoulders sagged. In the uprising of my bottom I pressed my face against the strong curved neck of the horse. It rocked faster. I clung as I had always clung. The old plank floor swayed and dipped beneath me. His palm smacked first one cheek and then the other.
"Oh! no more!" I gasped. All was repetition.
"it is far to Jericho," he laughed. I could feel his happiness in my head. The cheeks of my bottom burned and stung. My knees trembled. The bars of the stirrups held tight under the soles of my boots.
"No more!" I begged. His hand smacked on. I could feel the impress of his fingers on my own.
"Two miles--you are soon there. What will you do when you arrive?"
"I shall have handmaidens. They will bathe and perfume me. I shall lie on a silken couch. they will bring me wine."
I remembered all the words. I had made them up in my dreams and brought them out into the daylight.
"I may visit you and share your wine?" he asked. His hand fell in a last resounding smack. I gasped out yes. I fell sideways and he caught me. He lifted me until my heels unhooked from the stirrups. I sagged against him. My nether cheeks flared...I clenched my bottom cheeks and hid my face against his chest.
"It was good. I should bring the whip to you henceforth," he murmured.
The words were new. They were not part of our play. Had I forgotten the words? Perhaps we had rehearsed them once. In their smallness they lay scattered in the dust. Dried flecks of spokenness.
"It would hurt," I said.
"No, it is small. Stand still." I did not know what to do with my hands. He was gone to the far corner of the attic and returned. In his hands was a soft leather case. He opened it. There was a whip. The handle was carved in ebony, the end bulbous. There were carvings as of veins along the stem. From the other end exuded strands of leather. I judged them not more than twenty-five inches long. The tapered ends were loosely knotted.
"Soon, perhaps. Lay it for now beneath your pillow, Beatrice."
So saying he cast aside the case and I took the whip. At the knob end was a silky smoothness. The thongs hung down by my thigh... Broad trails of heat stirred in my bottom still... The handle of the whip felt warm as if it had never ceased being touched.
A woman in Britain will go to jail for eight weeks if she keeps on having noisy sex, a court ruled recently. She and her husband keep their neighbours awake at night with sounds described in court as "unnatural" and "like they were both in considerable pain".
For the next year, to avoid a prison term, the couple will have sex in the mornings instead.
And will spank with quieter implements too, I hope.
Pervertables that shouldn't give up their day jobs in the vanilla world.
The Gentle Return Inversion Machine
This cushioned inversion bench gently stretches your back in less than two minutes using only gravity to help relieve strain on the spine and vertebrae. It has a steel frame with foam-padded half-circle handlebars that allow a smooth return to an upright position. A mesh backrest provides airflow, keeping your back cool, and conforms to your body's contours. A three-position leg lock system with pushbutton lever release holds your ankles securely while inverted, and an auto-stop prevents inversion past a chosen angle.
This contraption might have spanking possibilities if you lie on it face down, but I wouldn't care to be completely upside down for one. It also looks like you might roll downhill if you aren't careful.
I know what you're thinking: I'm scraping the bottom of the idea barrel. But I had to show you this:
It's a potato that Ron was about to slice for dinner, but he showed me its unusual shape first. I took one look and saw - naturally - a bum! He was happy to let me take it away to the corner that I call the "studio" and snap a picture of it.
And I lied. It's not really on eBay. Ron turned it into French fries, and they were delicious!
The Mechanical Core Muscle Trainer
This is the low-impact mechanical exerciser that gently and thoroughly concentrates on developing strength in the glutes. It allows you to conduct a 20-minute exercise routine while seated. The saddle gently tilts back and forth, left and right in preprogrammed sequences that can be selected at the touch of a button. The gentle swaying of the saddle forces the core body muscles to expand and contract, keeping you upright in a relaxed, properly aligned position. The exercise routines also provide a beneficial aerobic workout. Any of three basic programs and nine speeds are easily controlled from the panel at the pommel, and a set of stirrups and a handle help beginners maintain proper balance during the slow workout that simulates the gentle back-and-forth motion experienced while riding a horse at a lazy gait.
The Five Axis Mechanical Core Muscle Trainer
This is the low-impact mechanical exerciser that methodically tilts across five axes to strengthen your core muscles. The saddle tilts back and forth, left to right, up and down, and twists in preprogrammed sequences, strengthening your thighs, buttocks,--core muscles that are neglected by traditional training regimens. The gentle swaying of the saddle changes your center of balance and, as you attempt to regain your equilibrium, your core muscles expand and contract. The seven programs (easy, light, moderate, advanced, waist, hip, legs) and nine speeds are easily controlled on the pommel's LCD panel that also shows calories burned and the muscles being worked during each routine. With a set of stirrups and handle to provide stability.
Last summer while we were away on holiday, we drove along a rural highway and saw a field full of wind turbines far off in the distance. I had never seen them before except in pictures, and my first thought was that they looked like crosses. There was no wind blowing, and the blades were stationary.
My kinky mind quickly made the leap to St. Andrew's crosses, and that was even more intriguing. I imagined a group of like-minded individuals, armed with floggers, paddles and the like, gathering in an isolated clearing where a whole thicket of St. Andrew's crosses awaited the (un)fortunate but willing victims. Yes, these blades have three arms, but adjustments can be made.
Unfortunately we couldn't make a detour for a closer look but perhaps it was just as well; it would have spoiled the illusion.
What thoughts are running through this elegant woman's mind? Why does she use the word "involved" to describe herself? Who does she imagine is sitting on the couch reflected in the mirror? What's going to happen next? Is she expecting someone? or has someone just left the room?
One of Sharon Green's novels in the Terrilian series - Terrilian IV The Warrior Challenged - contains a few promising references to spanking. You may enjoy them.
The action gets started on the first page. This book is one of a series, and the reader is expected to recall what happened in the previous volume, which I haven't read. The heroine seems to be crying but it isn't clear why. The alien lord tells her:
"Should it be your wish to weep, wenda, there are other means of achieving that," he said in that dangerous, deep-voiced way of his. "As my efforts in this manner fail to please you, it shall likely soon become my duty to fetch a switch." [She replies] "Threatening the teacher isn't allowed."
So she isn't intimidated. But he doesn't let the suggestion go. On the following page he repeats:
"Perhaps, woman, it would be best if I were to fetch the switch after all," he growled angrily. The look in his eyes hardened as he began projecting that deadly promise effect...
What a way to get readers hooked on a story, even if they don't understand what's going on. Unfortunately, the alien is all talk and no action until a few pages later when he tries again:
"There is no choice before you: you shall obey."
They verbally spar some more, and the big, strong, handsome barbarian lord is no fool:
"Truly do you sound as though you had been beaten, wenda," he said with a dryness that surely covered annoyance, taking his hand back to hang the arm on one broad thigh. "As you seem to feel the need so greatly, perhaps it would be best to grant it to you."
"Not all beatings have to be physical."
True. But he does go for the physical kind, although the punishment itself was buried within dialogue and narrative so that I had to go back and read more slowly to extricate it from the tangled sci-fantasy.
He'd waited to find out if I really had been trying to sneak ouit of the apartment, and once he'd known for sure he'd punished me for trying to disobey him...
"I gave you no insult...Merely did I weigh your words and find them unsubstantiated, and then did I strap you for disobedience. Insult was neither thought upon nor given."
...
The strapping he'd given me had been very short, but he'd made sure it would hurt; I wasn't going to be allowed to disobey him, and that's all he cared about.
The group, including our heroine, leaves on horseback:
I, of course, was on the saddle fur behind the barbarian, my arms around his body as I'd been ordered to keep them. The saddle fur was a lot softer than the saddle itself would have been, but I was still in a a good deal of discomfort from the punishment I'd been given. The discomfort was meant to be an extension of the punishment, an object lesson on the consequences of disobedience, and I'd been forbidden to use pain control to make the time any easier. I tried to tell myself that I didn't care about the beast any longer, but after only a few minutes I gave up the effort. It hurt to sit and rid like that, hurt in a way that was terribly humiliating, but I wasn't being allowed to avoid the sensations. I was being made to feel them and learn from them even if I didn't want to. I was a banded wenda being taught to obey her l'enda.
Recently I found myself sitting around a table with a large group of acquaintances. The conversation was about this and that - nothing particularly interesting. Until, that is, the man sitting opposite me, who had been telling us about a recent encounter with someone, said - and I forget his exact words, but it was close to "Get me a ball gag."
My first reaction was surprise, then I laughed nervously but looked around to see if anyone interpreted my laugh as understanding. That's when I began to examine the reactions of the others around the table.
A few laughed loudly and appreciatively. Some merely smiled. More remained silent and impassive. I wondered about that last group. Did they understand the term? (It isn't exactly a common household item in most homes, and it's only since I have been actively reading spanking blogs that I've become aware of their existence.) Were they shocked? Disgusted? Mystified? Oblivious? It was all over in an instant, so maybe some of the group missed the reference.
Then I wondered how my own reaction had been interpreted. Was I someone in the know? Or just someone laughing along with the group? Did I look like I was offended? Finally I pondered the possibilities concerning the man who started it all. Why would he think of referring to a ball gag if he wasn't familiar with them, or if he didn't think his audience would understand?
What do you think is the best way to handle an unexpected reference like that?
Pervertables that shouldn't give up their day jobs in the vanilla world.
The Gentlemen's Personal Barber
Designed for those with closely cropped hairstyles, this electric trimmer allows you to cut your own hair and maintain a clean-cut look. As simple as combing your hair, the trimmer has two bidirectional, curved blades that cut as they move forwards or backwards through your hair while accommodating the contours of your pate. The trimmer adjusts at the touch of a button... The device has an integrated, pop-up trimmer for manicuring beards, side burns, and necklines.
This thing made me think of an electric hairbrush, even though I know it's a trimmer. It's so unsuitable for spanking, and yet some of the language is evocative. I like the idea of adjusting to the "contours of your nate". And the pop-up feature is intriguing. But I think I'll pass on this one.
The Phototherapy Hairbrush
This lightweight, handheld device helps revitalize tired locks for fuller, more lustrous hair. The light energy produced by its safe, low-level laser and four LEDs penetrates scalp tissue to promote increased circulation, resulting in more oxygen and nutrients getting supplied to hair follicles. Equally effective on men and women, simply "brushing" for three 15-minute sessions per week promotes thicker, more vibrant hair... A built-in timer frees you from tracking session time and automatically shuts off the hairbrush after 15 minutes.
Again, not very useful for spanking, but the thought is there. How useful to have a hairbrush that stops after 15 minutes of "use". Less trouble for the spanker too. The photo-whatsits do all the work, and all the spanker needs to do is watch and enjoy. If only...
The Thinning Hair Boar Bristle Brush
This is a natural boar bristle hairbrush that is gentler on thinning hair than typical bristle brushes. This brush uses a softer "cut" of bristles--not the stiffer root-end used on brushes for normal hair--allowing its 2,300 bristles to gently glide through fine hair without pulling, leaving locks looking healthy and shiny. Imported from England, the brush is made by G.B. Kent & Sons, the world's oldest brush maker, established in 1777, a holder of the Royal Warrant through nine consecutive reigns of the British monarchy.
I'm certain this implement would deliver a very severe spanking in the hands of the right user. That's quite a pedigree! But I included it here because I thought it was so unkind to draw attention to a person's thinning hair.
We have had some bad winter weather recently, and that include a power outage a few days ago.
The actual blackouts happened at night and were intermittent, so the power went off then came back on several times during the night. You'd think it wouldn't matter whether the power was on or off since it was dark and we were all asleep, right? Wrong. The carbon monoxide detector let out an unearthly wail each time its source of electricity stopped and started, and that woke us up. Fluffy had a panic attack from the noise, and Fang decided that since he was awake, he needed to go out for a potty break.
Ron tried to find the flashlight, and opened the drawer of his bedside table - the same drawer that holds many of our spanking implements. I heard him rummaging among them, cursing them and getting more irate by the second. Finally he gave up and slammed the drawer shut. I was secretly relieved: he seemed ready to use one of the paddles on the nearest bottom!
I managed to find my way to the door and slip out with the full dog while leaving the hysterical one behind. Once in the kitchen, the moonlight streaming through the window gave me enough light to find another flashlight as I let Fang out and waited for him to finish.
When we both got back to the bedroom I was met with a small bright light shining straight into my eyes. Ron had found the flashlight after all. I smiled as I imagined him methodically lifting the implements out one by one until he had a bouquet of them in one hand and the flashlight was the only thing left in the drawer. I didn't let him know I thought the situation was funny; he was entirely too close to all those implements. But the next morning we had a good laugh about it.
This week I have a trio of items that could - in the hands of the right person - provide a very effective and thorough spanking.
Spring Loaded Insoles
Built with 12 springs that cushion and support the foot, these insoles return some of the energy to the body for a "push off" with every stride. Five coils are positioned directly underneath the heel. Seven smaller springs under the ball of the foot further disperse the impact and cradle the foot. The suspension coils are only 1/4" thick, making them just as suitable for athletic shoes as for work boots, and undetectable until a step is taken. The insole also features honeycomb padding with valves that draw in and expel air.
This gives new meaning to slippering! Imagine spanking with a spring-loaded piece of footwear.
Heated Gloves
These heated gloves have flat, removable battery packs on the back that are slim enough to tuck under elastic cuffs on parkas or coats, and are lightweight so as not to impede manual dexterity. Fully lined with Thinsulate for breathable warmth, each glove requires four AA batteries to power its integral heating element. Convenient low/high/off power switch. The low-heat setting will heat gloves for up to eight hours and the high setting for up to six hours. The gloves have non-slip palms and finger pads, and include an elastic cinch cord.
What a hot spanking these little beauties could deliver. And useful for shoveling snow too!
My Favorite Spatula™
The perfect size for brownies and bars, this hard-working spatula is sure to be YOUR favorite! Thin, light-weight, and flexible, its long handle and beveled edge make it easy to slip beneath bars for quick, easy serving. In heat-resistant, scratchproof nylon.
I'm a big fan of spatulas, especially the heat-resistant variety.
We have been pretty busy with various activities lately, as well as chores around the house, and have also been sharing one another's seasonal colds. So unfortunately spanking has taken a bit of a back seat (no pun intended). Over the past few weeks our regular date has either been postponed until a more convenient day and time, or has been cancelled altogether.
When I wasn't feeling up to par, or was preoccupied with other concerns, I really didn't mind. But once my commitments had been dealt with and I was feeling fit and well, I started to get a craving for some bottom-warming. We had agreed upon a makeup session in two days' time, but I wanted a little advance on that reward.
We were in the kitchen together, and somehow the subject of spanking came up in the conversation. I really don't know how that could have happened! Anyway, it did, and we were laughing about it, and hugging each other, as we often do. Ron's hands traveled from my waist to my bottom, and without planning to, I blurted out:
"Will you beat me just a little?"
Without a word, Ron's hands gripped my bottom cheeks, then he gave me at least a dozen quick, hard slaps on both cheeks at once. I don't know about you, but I like my cheeks spanked alternately. It seems to give me a chance to process the pain better. But having both globes on fire at once is quite overwhelming.
"Ow! Ow!Ow!" Even after he had stopped, I kept on yelping. Once I had caught my breath and realized that was just what I had needed, I threw my arms around Ron again. He responded by giving me a second helping of two-handed spanks.
"OW! OW! OW!" It hurt even more the second time! I struggled to free myself and gasped, rubbing my sore posterior.
"That hurt," I complained.
"You're welcome," replied Ron.
I was on top of the world for the rest of the evening, and when I woke up the next morning I felt satisfied and contented. I couldn't figure out why, then I remembered. I'd had a spanking. It really hadn't been much, by our usual standards, but a little attention was all it took to please me. I also made sure that Ron knew it.
"That spanking yesterday really hurt".
"You deserved it."
Wow! Ron rarely says things like that, and when he does, it really gets my juices flowing. He must have had something bigger and better on his mind too.
One of Sharon Green's novels in the Terrilian series - Terrilian IV The Warrior Challenged - contains a few promising references to spanking. You may enjoy them.
The Phototherapy Hairbrush
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