You can drink it too

Canada's most popular beverage.

Hat Trick

A nasty flu virus has been lurking in our office, and the sounds of coughing and sneezing fill the air all day. When I felt the symptoms of a stuffy nose and the urge to cough, I feared I had caught the plague.

Ron noticed the cough and sympathetically asked if I was sick. I said I might be, and got out the bottle of Cold-FX. I took two and left the bottle on the table as a reminder for the morning.

We prepared dinner together and I managed to eat, even though I had little appetite. Spanking was the last thing on my mind. Ron, however, had different ideas.

When we had finished, and I was clearing the plates from the table, I felt a sudden, unexpected impact on my bottom. I froze, waiting. Another whack, this time on the other cheek. I put the plates down, rested my elbows on the table, and endured several more hard handspanks. They felt ouchy but good.

When Ron stopped, I resumed my kitchen duties. As I bent down to pick up a dropped napkin, he made another assault on my bottom. Well, this was turning into an interesting evening.

The third and final set of whacks was short, and happened as I stood at the fridge, putting away the leftovers. One smack on my left cheek, then a pause.

"I'm uneven. I don't like that," I complained.

Ron rectified the situation with a second smack.

"That's better." But my pleasure was short-lived when I felt a third slap to the left.

"Now I'm uneven again."

"It's over," said Ron, and I had to be content with feeling lop-sided.

And what of my flu symptoms? They had vanished. Was it the Cold-FX, that miraculous preventer of colds? Perhaps the tasty meal of spaghetti and red wine had something to do with it; tomatoes are thought to have have special properties, and red wine is good for you. But my money is on the spanking hat trick. Three spankings in a row is enough to clear anyone's head and banish chest congestion. I heartily recommend it.

Size Study

There is a new study about women and how they feel about their asses. The results were pretty interesting:

30% of women think their ass is too fat...
10% of women think their ass is too skinny...

The remaining 60% say they don't care, they love him, he's a good man and that they wouldn't trade him for the world.

From the Top Shelf - Outlander II

 The second selection from Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. In part one, Claire disobeyed Jamie's order, even though she knew the consequences. She got into a lot of trouble as a result, and was rescued in the nick of time. Now it's time to pay the piper.

I sank on the bed with a sigh... "I'm done in. It's been a long day."

"Aye, it has that." Jamie unfastened his collar and cuffs and unbuckled his sword belt, but made no move to undress further. He pulled the strap from the scabbard and doubled it, flexing the leather meditatively.

"Come to bed, Jamie. What are you waiting for?"

He came to stand by the bed, swinging the belt gently back and forth.

"Well, lass, I'm afraid we've a matter still to settle between us before we sleep tonight." I felt a sudden stab of apprehension.

"What is it?"

He didn't answer at once. Deliberately not sitting down on the bed by me, he pulled up a stool and sat facing me instead.

"Do ye realize, Claire," he said quietly, "that all of us came close to being killed this afternoon?"

I looked down at the quilt, shamefaced. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry."

...After a long moment of silence, he sighed and stood up, slapping the belt lightly against his thigh.

"Well, then," he said. "Best get on wi' it. You've done considerable damage by crossing my orders, and I'm going to punish you for it, Claire. Ye'll recall what I told ye when I left ye this morning?"  I recalled all right, and I hastily flung myself across the bed so my back was pressed to the wall.

"What do you mean?"

"Ye know quite well what I mean," he said firmly. "Kneel down by the bed and lift your skirts, lass."

..."I will not allow you to beat me," I said firmly, keeping a tight hold of the bedpost."

"Oh, ye won't?" He raised a sandy brow. "Well, I'll tell ye, lass, I doubt you've much to say about it..."

"I'll scream!"

"Likely. If not before, certainly during. I expect they'll hear ye at the next farm; you've got a good set of lungs." He grinned odiously and came across the bed after me.

He pried my fingers loose with some difficulty, and pulled firmly, hauling me to the side of the bed. He managed to turn me facedown on the bed, twisting my arm to hold me there.

"I mean to do it, Claire! Now, if you'll cooperate with me, we'll call the account square with a dozen strokes."

"And if not?" I quavered. He picked up the strap and slapped it against his leg with a nasty thwapping sound.

"Then I shall put a knee in your back and beat you 'til my arm tires, and I warn ye, you'll tire of it long before I do."

"You barbarian! You...you sadist!" I hissed furiously. "You're doing this for your own pleasure! I'll never forgive you for this!" Jamie paused, twisting the belt.

He replied levelly, "I dinna know what's a sadist. And if I forgive you for this afternoon, I reckon you'll forgive me, too, as soon as ye can sit down again."

"As for my pleasure..." His lip twitched. "I said I would have to punish you. I did not say I wasn't going to enjoy it." He crooked a finger at me.

"Come here."

-----------------

I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the room next morning. I had not spoken to Jamie since the night before, but he noticed my hesitation and urged me to come out with him to breakfast.

"You dinna need to fear meetin' the others, Claire. They'll chaff ye a bit, but it won't be bad. Chin up."

He might well be in a good mood, I thought bitterly. If it was revenge he'd wanted the night before,

It had been a most unpleasant night. My reluctant acquiescence had lasted precisely as far as the first searing crack of leather on flesh. This was followed by a short, violent struggle, which left Jamie with a bloody nose, three lovely gouges down one cheek, and a deeply bitten wrist. Not surprisingly, it left me half-smothered into the greasy quilts with a knee in my back, being beaten within an inch of my life.

Jamie turned out to be right. The men were restrained in their greetings, but friendly enough. The hostility of the night before had vanished.

As I was dishing eggs at the sideboard, Dougal came up and slipped a fatherly arm around my shoulders.

"I hope Jamie wasna too harsh wi' ye last night, lass. It sounded as though ye were being murdered, at least."

Dougall turned to call to Jamie, seated at the table eating bread and cheese. "Hey, now, Jamie, it wasna necessary to half-kill the lass. A gentle reminder would ha' sufficed." He patted me firmly on the posterior in illustration, making me wince. I glowered at him.

"A blistered bum never did anyone no permanent harm," said Murtagh, through a mouthful of bread.

"No, indeed," said Ned, grinning. "Come have a seat, lassie."

"I'll stand, thank you," I said with dignity, making them all roar with laughter.

The group leaves the inn the next day and travels on horseback, and the journey is very uncomfortable for Claire's backside. She gets down and walks, and Jamie walks with her. Out of earshot of the others, they have a long talk and she comes to understand him better.

I began to forgive him for what he had done to me.

As though reading my mind, he said, not looking at me, "Do you know... I mean, can ye understand, maybe, why I thought it needful to beat you?"

I waited a moment before answering. I understood, all right, but that was not quite all there was to it.

"I understand," I said. "And so far as that goes, I forgive you. What I can't forgive," I said, my voice rising slightly in spite of myself, "is that you enjoyed it!"

He bent forward and laughed for a long time. He reveled in the release of tension before finally tossing his head back and turning to me. I could see his face, lined with exhaustion, strain, and mirth. The scratches down his cheek were black in the dim light.

"Enjoyed it!" he said, gasping, "you don't know just how much I enjoyed it. You were so... God, you looked lovely. I was so angry, and you fought me so fierce. I hated to hurt you, but I wanted to do it at the same time..." he said, breaking off and wiping his nose, "yes. Yes, I did enjoy it."

And so he should.

You Completed the Caption

Here's what you said about this imposing statue. (Warning - some of them are real groaners.)

Prefectdt: Booty is in the eye of the beholder.

Red: Here's looking at you kid.

Kaki: This statue looks moonstruck.

Bonnie: Are your eyes red and sore...?

Season: ♬ I see London, I see France, I don't see your underpants ♬

Ronnie: When the moons hit your eyes like a big pizza pie.

Sixofthebest: Heroine this ancient stutue is so old it's 'behind' the times we live in.

Joeyred51:  I saw this statue on the Greek Island of Mykinos. It is the Greek god Buttus. He was the love child of Athena and Bacchus. In Athens, there is an ancient stadium: the Gluteus Maximus forerunner of the Circus Maximus. There is a constellation with his name that is behind the Orion constellation. This statue commemorates his encounter with his mom Athena in which he was punished for gross misbehavior at one of his dad's wild parties. He said "Mom, did you have to use the paddle of Zeus?"

Michael: Worst case of ASStigmatism I have ever seen!

A Lurker: "I see red people!"

Em: I see a spanking in your future.

Hermione: At the annual festival, maidens offered bundles of birch twigs as a sacrifice to the Great Spanker.

Thanks for participating. See you all next week, same spank time, same spank channel.

Complete the Caption

This ancient statue has something on its mind.  What might that be? Is he or she a guardian, a prophet, or a deity? That's up to you.

Complete the caption and I will publish your prophetic utterances in the next post.

Brat Warning

Make your own personal brat warning here.

Two Solitudes

Two Solitudes, by Hugh MacLennan, is a well-known novel about the relationship between French- and English-speaking Canadians. We studied the abridged version in school,and I was pleasantly surprised to find a reference to caning that had not been edited out along with all bedroom activity. It took place at a boys' boarding school, modeled closely on an English public school. I thought the general atitude towards corporal punishment so refreshingly pleasant and casual that I want to share it with you.

None of the masters went by a rulebook, their teaching was careful, and if the boys did not do their arithmetic, English, French, Latin, algebra and geography, they were caned for it. All the masters were very cheerful as they bent the boys over and caned them, and Sergeant-Major Croucher liked to make a small ceremony of ht, military style. When he gave them one crack, he said he was making them lance-corporals, when he gave them two they became corporals and so on up to the commissioned  ranks.

It was a matter of pride for all the boys to get a certain amount of caning, and if Croucher noticed that any of the shy ones were failing to qualify, he invented a minor crime and made them lance-corporals for the sake of their morale. When he caned shy boys he was so cheerful he made it impossible for them to be afraid. But once he bent them over he gave them a really good crack. Then they would run away with grins on their faces holding their backsides, knowing they could prove themselves men by taking down their pants and showing the red mark Croucher had given them.

Wasn't he a nice schoolmaster?

Wednesday WIN

Today's WINs are from Fred, via Bored Panda.

Delete

Perfect for swatting flies, wasps, or whatever else needs it.

Mixstix

Play a tune on that tushy.

Spoonrest

Treat your implements with loving care, and they will last a lifetime.

You Completed the Cartoon Caption

You may have seen this post before, but due to technical difficulties I omitted some extremely funny captions. I am republishing it today so you can enjoy them with me. My sincere apology to those of you I missed.

Here's the original dialogue in the cartoon.

Now here are your imaginative captions:

---

Michael

"George, do I have a cowlick? Is that why you're bringing me my hairbrush?"

"Alice, this brush is for licks of a different kind. This will teach you not to flirt with the milkman. Over my lap you go!"

---

Sixofthebest

She says, "I'm sorry I dented your Rolls Royce car."

He says, "Well my dear, I'm now going to raise your dress up. Pull down your knickers, and dent your bare bottom with this hairbrush. A hundred times over."

---

Prefectdt

Her - "I've gotten you a nice present dear."

Him - "Goddammit woman, another hairbrush! How many times do I have to tell you that I use a comb not a brush? This is the sixth hairbrush that you've given me this year. What the hell do you expect me to do with them all?"

Her - *Blushes, smiles, raises her skirt and bends over the sofa*

---

Ronnie

"Mary, come here and bend over my desk. Quality control says we have a problem with the handles of our hairbrushes so I need you to assist me in testing one."

"Oh me Mr Pritchard? I'd be more than happy to, should I lift my skirt?"

---

Bonnie

She: But honey, I have to go sit for my exam.

He: When I get done with you, you're going to have to do all of your sitting standing up!

---

Hermione

She: "You haven't signed the letters, sir."

He: "You've misspelled my name for the last time. You're getting a typing lesson over my knee!"

---

A Lurker:

Ok, here's one:

Randy: I've told you not to leave your things in my office. When I finish my presentation tomorrow I will be using this on more than your hair.
Bonnie: Well, you know what they say, eh? Hair today, Bon tomorrow!

And another,

Grant (sternly): Sara, I told you yesterday to put this away or there would be consequences. Now wait for me in the bedroom and we will find another use for this.
Sara: Whatever! GRANTed, this has happened before.

And last but certainly not least,

Hermione: Oh! I've been looking for that hairbrush.
Ron: Yes Hair-mione and now you will get it back!

---

That was fun! Please come back next week for a very unusual picture that needs a caption.

From the Top Shelf - Outlander

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon is based on the unlikely premise that time travel is possible. A young nurse, visiting Scotland with her husband shortly after World War II, suddenly finds herself transported to a time two hundred years earlier.

This was enough to make me put the book aside the first time I tried to read it about ten years ago. When I recently found out it contained spanking, I picked it up and tried again. It also makes me wonder about the person who recommended it the first time. But since I was told, in every new and used book store I visited, that this and other books by the author fly off the shelves, either I live in a city full of spankos, or perhaps there's more to the book than spanking.

But back to the story.

Claire becomes involved with a group of highland rebels, and it turns out that the English villain of the story is a distant ancestor and lookalike of her husband of the future. She marries the dashing and mysterious Jamie to save herself from punishment by the English.

Although there are frequent references and graphic descriptions of other kinds of physical punishment throughout the book, the spanking doesn't happen until about half-way through. Claire and Jamie are traveling in a group, and there is danger, adventure and love-making at every turn. When the latest sign of danger appears, Jamie orders Claire to stay hidden the bushes with her horse while he and his men ride off to take care of various obligations. Claire refuses and wants to go with her man. Jamie sets her straight:

"Did ye no promise to obey me?" he asked, shaking me gently.

"Yes, but--" but only because I had to, I was going to say, but he was already urging my horse's head around toward the thicket.

"It's verra dangerous, and I'll not have ye there, Claire. I shall be busy, and if it comes to it, I can't fight and protect you at the same time." Seeing my mutinous look, he dropped his hand to the saddlebag and began rummaging.

"What are you looking for?"

"Rope. If ye wilna do as I say, I shall tie ye to a tree until I come back."

"You wouldn't!"

"Aye, I would!" Plainly he meant it. I gave in with bad grace, and reluctantly reined in my horse...

"Oh, one more thing."

What's that?" I said sullenly.

"If you leave that copse before I come for ye, I'll tan your bare arse wi' my sword belt. Ye wouldna enjoy walking all the way to Bargrennan. Remember," he said, pinching my cheek gently, "I dinna make idle threats."

You won't be surprised to learn that as soon as Jamie is out of sight, Claire wanders off. She is captured by the English and taken to cruel Captain Randall to meet her fate. She makes herself at home in his office, rummages through his things, and writes a rude word on his desk blotter.

I was seated behind the desk, comb in hand, studying my reflection in the looking glass, when the Captain came in. He gave me a glance that took in my disheveled appearance, the rifled cupboard, and the disfigured blotter.

Without blinking, he drew up a chair and sat down across from me, lounging casually with one booted foot resting on the opposite knee. A riding crop dangled from one fine, aristocratic hand. I watched the braided tip, black and scarlet, as it swung slowly back and forth over the carpet.

"The idea has its attraction," he said, watching my eyes follow the sweep of the whip. "But I could probably think of something better, given a few moments to collect myself."

"I daresay you could," I said, fingering a thick sheaf of hair out of my eyes. "But you aren't allowed to flog women, are you?"

"Only under certain circumstances," he said politely. "Which your situation doesn't meet--yet. That's rather public, though. I thought we might get better acquainted in private, first."

He pours them each a glass of claret then interrogates her, but she refuses to give him any useful information, even though she is getting slightly tipsy.

The tension was slightly relieved by the entrance of an orderly, bearing a tray of tea things. Still silent, Randall poured out and offered me a cup. We sipped some more.

Don't tell me," I said finally. "Let me guess. It's a new form of persuasion you've invented--torture by bladder. You ply me with drinkables until I promise you anything in exchange for five minutes with a chamber pot."

(That didn't have anything to do with spanking but was too funny not to include.)

The long and the short of it is that Jamie rescues her in the nick of time, at great risk to himself and his men. Was there ever any doubt? She apologizes for disobeying his order and he forgives her. But Jamie is a man of his word, and she will pay the penalty. Next week. 

Complete the Cartoon Caption

This panel from a comic strip has been around the interwebs for a while, but unfortunately, the speech balloons have been erased. What do you suppose they are saying? It looks like he is angry and she is in trouble, but that's up to you to decide. Can you fill in the empty balloons with a she said, he said that explains the situation?

Leave your contribution as a comment or send me an email. I'll publish the restored cartoon, plus your own take on this scene, tomorrow.

An Elegant Implement

See what I found while browsing in a shop selling "gently used" clothing and other merchandise. It looks very old, doesn't it?

Oh, but I suppose the other side will be of more interest to you.

Obviously it's been well cared for, and perhaps this side has seen more use than the other.

It was somewhat pricey, but looked worth every penny. A shiver went through me as I held it. I just had to have it, even though I know I'll probably be very sorry I did. Then I found a lovely wooden paddle that I also had to have. (I'll show you that in a future post.) What increased the cost was having to buy something else as well, because I thought it would look odd to buy just the hairbrush and the paddle.

The sales associate told me the brush was ivory. I know that it's politically incorrect to purchase ivory, but the damage had been done a long time ago. I can't wait to try it out.

Moving Day

Recently I received an odd request in my inbox. It was from a website interested in exchanging links with me. Now, I am happy to link to other spanking sites, but not so eager to link to vanilla ones. The website in question was for a moving company. I was invited to suggest the category my blog's link might fall under. Alas, I didn't see a suitable category, except perhaps the ever-popular "miscellaneous".

Why would a moving company want to link to a spanking blog? Do they provide expert assistance in packing and moving canes, paddles and straps? Do they guarantee the dismantling and reassembling of dungeon apparatus? Will they assure the customer that all roleplay outfits will be transported in plain brown wardrobe boxes?

Or maybe they want to be able to reassure clients that no matter where they move to, there will always be like-minded individuals there to welcome them.

I declined the offer.

Romantic Coupons

On Valentine's Day we shared a book of romantic coupons.* Some of them were run of the mill romantic, but there were a few that lent themselves very nicely to spanking.

Let's see... I'll be a milkmaid and you can be the farmer.

Surprise me with a belt, a paddle, a cane...

I know exactly the kind of special treatment my bottom needs.

It doesn't get any better than this!

Or does it? Clue, anyone?

I suspect Ron will enjoy receiving this one the most.


*They are written in both English and French because in Canada we have two official languages.

Elegant Bloomers

Hah! I got your attention, didn't I?

Not the long, frilly underwear of bygone years, but lovely nevertheless.

Can you tell I'm longing for Spring?

From the Top Shelf - Private Lesson

I love to share selections from my library with you, and I envy writers who can produce a good spanking story. I find it difficult to write fiction, but I thought it was about time I tried again. Today's selection from the top shelf is one I wrote myself. I hope you like it.

Private Lesson

"As exciting as watching paint dry," one of her friends told her. Hannah didn't care. She loved the equestrian sport of dressage. True, it wasn't exciting or dangerous like racing, jumping, and polo. It was simply horse and rider moving as one, the rider's invisible signals guiding the animal through intricate patterns and movements. It looked deceptively simple. The truth was, it took a lot of hard work.

Hannah loved riding Curtain Call, her grey mare,  and Cally always seemed to know when it was important to perform well.  This day was one of those times. They were competing in the first show of the season, and Hannah was nervous. Would all their hard work be rewarded?

When the steward called their number, Hannah rode Cally into the ring, saluted the judge, then guided her mount through the compulsory three minute routine that each horse and rider would perform. The time flew by, and when it was over Hannah knew they had done well. So did her partner; Cally tossed her head when Hannah patted the mare's warm, damp neck and inhaled the tangy aroma of horse sweat.

As she left the ring, she passed Siegfried on his way in. He was riding his new Hanoverian stallion Kohl, and was concentrating on keeping the young horse focused. He ignored Hannah's cheery "Good luck!"

Siegfried. Her handsome German riding master. He was forty-something, an excellent rider, and a strict disciplinarian. Siegfried had very high standards: he expected his students to be immaculately dressed, their mounts well-groomed, and if they ever dared to arrive late, well... Hannah loved to watch him training a horse on a long line. The way he handled the long-lashed lunging whip as the animal circled around him always excited her more than she cared to admit.

Hannah had been delighted when she and Cally were accepted for private lessons. Siegfried bestowed this honour only on students whom he felt had potential.  She and Cally had worked hard all winter, and now they had put all that effort to the test.

-------------

After leaving Cally in her groom's capable hands, Hannah walked to the secretary's tent where results for each class were posted. She scanned down the list for her class, expecting to see Siegfried's name first and then her own lower down. To her delight Hannah saw her name in third place. Siegfried's name was below, in fourth position. She had beaten him in the Novice class.

Beaming, Hannah rushed to tell her groom the wonderful news and to give Cally a big hug. She had scarcely arrived when she heard the sound of boots crunching on the gravel behind her. Turning around, she found herself facing Siegfried. He did not look pleased.

"So, your score is higher than mine."

Hannah smiled. "Yes, it was a fluke. I didn't expect to be in the ribbons."

Siegfried did not return the smile. "In Germany we have a tradition. When the pupil surpasses the teacher in a competition, the teacher gives the pupil a kick in the seat of his pants."

Hannah looked alarmed. Was he going to kick her, here in public?

"But that's only for the men. For the pupils who are women, we have a different tradition." That's when Hannah noticed Siegfried holding his dressage whip in one hand and tapping it against the palm of the other hand. He nodded curtly, spun on his heel and  quickly strode away.

Hannah blushed and wondered what he meant. Surely not... Everyone carried a whip; they were as much a part of one's outfit as spurs, top hat and gloves. She glanced around to see if her groom had overheard. She didn't think so. He seemed occupied with brushing Cally.

-------------

When she arrived the following week for her early morning private lesson, Hannah was uncharacteristically unsettled. She replayed her teacher's threat in her mind, and wondered if he intended to follow through. He had probably forgotten all about it, and she was not about to remind him.

The lesson passed uneventfully in the indoor arena, although Hannah was distracted and Siegfried shouted at her when she failed to execute a relatively simple maneuver that they had practised hundreds of times.

"I'm sorry," she called, and tried again.

"Don't be sorry. Do it right! Why do I waste my time on you?" Then, as she and Cally performed the exercise correctly, "That's better. Enough for today." Siegfried left the arena and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. So, he has forgotten, she thought.

Hannah led her mare back to the barn and made her comfortable, then carried the saddle and bridle into the small room used for cleaning and storage. She hung the bridle on a hook, lifted the saddle onto a low sawhorse, and filled a bucket with warm water. The barn was deserted; the first group lesson wasn't for several hours. As she  rubbed saddle soap into the girth, she heard footsteps approaching. Siegfried's muscular frame filled the doorway. The shiny silver top of his dressage whip flashed.

"We have some unfinished business. You remember what I said at the show?" Hannah nodded, her heart racing wildly. He gestured toward the saddle. "Bend over." She did so, dropping her sponge and clinging to the rough legs of the sawhorse as if they would save her.

"What was your score last weekend?"

"I... I think it was 103."

"And mine was 97. That's how many points lower?"

How could he expect her to do math in her head in this position? "Oh, I don't know." Dear God, was he really going to do what she thought he was going to do? "Six."

"Six. So you'll get six."

Swish thwack! The whip whistled through the air and landed across the seat of Hannah's tightly-stretched tan breeches. She flinched, gasped, but did not move. Stay calm, she told herself. Courage. That's what he wants to see. Self-discipline.

The second stroke was harder, the sting sharper. Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. Only four to go. This was an honour. She had done something significant, something unusual, and this was her reward.

Swish thwack! The third stroke was lower, but not harder. She jerked and groaned. Halfway there. You can do it, her inner voice soothed.

Siegfried remained silent, administering the remaining strokes calmly but forcefully. Hannah managed to get through them all without disgracing herself, even though tears were oozing through her closed eyelids.

When it was over, she slowly raised herself to an upright position, resisting the urge to clutch her blazing backside. Riding would be impossible for the next day or two. She looked up. Siegfried was smiling.

He reached out, took her hand in his and shook it briefly, formally.

"Good work. You did well."

Thank you, Zelle, for the beautiful book cover.

You Completed the Caption

You supplied these captions, and they're all winners!

Velvet: Sore Loser.

Prefectdt: "The coach's new training method for improving forehand smashes was proving both effective and popular with the team."

Ronnie: "OK girls and boys, line up and I'll demonstrate my forehand smash."

Raven Red: "Where does the name Ping Pong originate from? Okay, on the left cheek we have Ping, and on the right cheek, we have Pong."

Sixofthebest: "It's time to raise her dress on high, and make her knickerless bottom cry."

Anonymous: Left, right or centre, this is sure gonna hurt you more than it does me.

Bonnie: How come she always gets to go first?!

Kingspan: No sex, drugs or rock and roll for our teenagers! Why, last Saturday, those clean-cut, freckle-faced darlings spent hours in our basement just playing ping-pong.

Hermione: Twelve more whacks and I get to be team captain.


That was an exciting game! Join us next week for something completely different.

Complete the Caption

These young people from way back when are having a wonderful time. Spanking has been popular for a long time.

Someone has already supplied a caption for this photo but I know you can do better.

Complete the caption and leave it in a comment or send me an email. I will post your ideas tomorrow.