Friday Fail

What do you think it's for?

"what's this for?" asked Ron, pointing to a wooden ruler lying on the kitchen counter near the back door.

I have to admit I'm not very diligent about putting things away when I'm finished with them. This particular ruler was one of a pair I had picked up on impulse at the dollar store; not because I needed two wooden rulers but because the sight of them sent shivers down my spine. I took one to work and left the other one at home. You never know when you might need a wooden ruler for one reason or another.

I checked the impulse to reply "What do you think it's for?" and explained to my husband that I had taken it outside to measure something and hadn't had a chance to return it to my desk.

"I know what it's for," Ron replied, and briskly applied it to the seat of my jeans. I barely felt it through the heavy fabric, but smiled as i felt a shiver of delight run through me. Rulers are handy things to have around. I'm glad I hadn't put it away.

Wednesday WIN

These pictures are from a show in a cellar-club in Paris called Crazy Horse. It’s famous for its amazing chorus girls and its mise-en-scene. But don't worry if you can't make it to Paris. The performers tour frequently, and they also have a permanent show at the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas.

Politicians need more kink

The weekend edition of The Globe and Mail, our national newspaper, had a humorous article about the un-kinkiness of Canadian politicians that I want to share with you.

The journalist accused Canadians of continuing "to produce the world's most boring sex scandals." She went on to elaborate about the recent missteps of a Conservative MP, who sent emails to a married reporter, the contents of which were "so soppy they could only have been written in the land that wickedness forgot."

She asserts that Canadian politicians are boring, and asks, "Would it be to much to ask for our imbroglios to include a paddle or two?" then goes on to describe the British Chancellor of the Exchequer, who was photographed with a "whip-happy call girl" named Mistress Pain.

Even the Americans fared better in their political scandals. There was the senator "whose arrest in an airport bathroom introduced the phrase 'wide stance' into general use" as a signal for illicit sex. Then there was the congressman who "tweeted photos of his underwear-clad privates to an acquaintance - as one does - then claimed that his phone had been hacked."

But the worst a Canadian MP could be accused of was involvement with "three busty hookers" as they sat around a dinner table, talking. The article concludes with a firm admonishment: "Really, Canada, if you want to be taken seriously, you're going to have to crack the whip."

The picture above, from The Globe and Mail, is of Sir John A. Macdonald, Canada's first prime minister and a man who liked a good time.

From the Top Shelf - A Little Bondage

"Hair Trigger" by Nikki Magennis, from  The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Volume 8, has a lovely F/m bondage scene that I will share with you today.

"Lie down, Frankie," she said.

"You're giving me orders now, sugar?"

Sal smiled lavishly.

As Frankie lay down across the unmade bed, she slunk into a stripper pose--hips tilted, head cocked provocatively. Bending down, keeping her movements slow, Sal unclipped her stocking fasteners. With swift movements she pulled her stockings off, and held them in front of Frankie like she was dangling a gift.

"A striptease, huh? I'm liking this surprise," he said, coal-black eyes fixed on Sal's every move.

When she came around the bed he lifted his arms to reach her, and she caught them swiftly. As he strained to kiss her, she danced away from him, pulling his wrists together and pinning them to the wooden rail of the bedstead. Only then did she lean down to press her mouth against his, distracting him as she slipped a stocking through the bars, wrapped it around his wrists, once--

"Sal, babe, I didn't know you were into this."

--twice, and tied it firmly.

Next she moved to the end of the bed. Frankie laughed and she smiled sweetly back at him as she bound his ankles. There was an edge to his laughter, half-expectant, half-uneasy.

He was pulled taut across the bed.

"I can't move," he said.

"I know."

Sal undid the clasp of her bra and dropped it on the floor. When she started undoing the silk ribbons of her knickers, Frankie licked his lips. She approached, carrying the fabric scrap of her knickers.

"Now what are you doing?" Frankie asked as she trailed them up from his ankle, over his thigh, brushed over his stiffening cock and lifted them to his face. She let him inhale her scent, and she tied them over his eyes, using a ribbon to fasten his blindfold tight. She leaned in close.

"Now you can hear me, and feel me, but you can't see me," she whispered.

This time, Frankie didn't laugh. He swallowed. 

As usual, I have left you wondering what happens next. In this case, in order to make sense of it, I would have had to include a major portion of the story. That's too much typing for me! So I'll leave it up to you to use your imaginations as to what happened next. If you would like to share your ending in a comment, please do!

You Completed the Caption

These happy travellers have been up to lots of mischief!

Mindset: "No! It's my turn to be the HO. You have to be the BO this time!"

Tex: Quit worrying! I'm sure the engineer will notice our red flag in time to stop.

Kingspan: I told you if we ran away from home to avoid a spanking we should put our pants back ON and take our high heels OFF. But nooo - we had to do things your way!

Velvet: Yes I AM sure we are on the right track...

Simon: The remake of The Railway Children was proceeding well.

or

Are you sure this is the way all trainspotters dress?

Ronnie: "If you hadn't spent our hotel money on that silly bandana we wouldn't have had to make a run for it dressed like this."

Daisychain: The girls were so, so drunk, that when the officer told them to try and walk in a straight line, they decided to use the railway line to help...but they should have taken their high heels off first!

Six of the Best: Hermione says to Bonnie, "Are we on the right 'tracks', for some 'whacks', from our hubbies?

Bonnie: "Did he said he wanted to put our butts on some tracks or put some tracks on our butts?"

Vfrat25000: Butch Cassidy and Jesse James found an entirely new way to rob trains but at the end of the day the thongs left a terrible rash and the shoes a few nasty blisters.

Megan and Paula finally realized after several hours, they must have the wrong location for the National Limbo Finals.

The Santa Fe Railroad finally caved in to the Employee Union’s demand for upgraded railroad track inspection procedures.

After an intensive investigative report by KOFO news it was determined that the security personnel for the railroads differed somewhat from that of the airlines.

Boxcar Wilma and Freight Train Freda finally gather the courage to leave their jobs as Heart Surgeons and pursue their dream to become country singers in Nashville.

Annie Lou, are you absolutely positive this is the location for the America’s Got Talent tryouts?

Why do I hear a train whistle?

Responding directly from a Retirement Party for Captain Smith the Bugtussle Bomb Disposal Team carefully removes a suspicious package from the local train station.

Vfrat, you outdid yourself this time!

Richardmt: Oh yeah, sure! "The next train's going to stop," you said.

Prefectdt: "Back in the 1920's, all we had to do was not pay the rent and refuse to get married and a nice gent with a mustache and a black top hat would have done the deed for us. Now we have to tie ourselves to the track and wait for a hero to turn up."

Sarah Thorne: Oh my!! I guess that's one way to hitchhike! (That's not a caption, just an observation!!)

Stormy: "Lets get out of here, and take the cane too!"

Hermione: Motorists at the railway crossing were astonished to see not one but two cute cabooses following the 12:15 train.


Thanks for sending summer on its way with a smile! See you all next week.

Complete the Caption

Today's picture was sent to me by my good friends Season and Michael at Blossom and Thorn. These two imps are setting out on a great adventure. What excitement awaits them? They seem to be traveling light; did they decide to leave in a hurry?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your itineraries in the next post.

Friday Fail

Things you can't do at work

Naughty Noodles

Last night we watched an episode of a new television program called Consumed. Each week, a professional organizer visits the home of a family who has accumulated way too much "stuff". She shows them how to live with less, and helps them dispose of their unnecessary possessions.

In the episode we saw, the man of the house showed Ms Organizer how he had decluttered the toolshed. The cameras panned across the cleared floor and tidily organized items on shelves and in boxes. What struck me was a large barrel filled with about a dozen pool noodles. It struck Ms O too.

"Oh, look," she said. "You've made a noodle bouquet!"

I asked Ron, "Why would they need twelve pool noodles? Hmmm. Maybe it's for something kinky."

"We'll have to look into that," Ron said with an evil grin.

So I'm asking you, dear readers. What naughtiness could you get up to with a noodle? Do you remember that Ann Landers (or was it Dear Abby?) used to say, whenever she had been wrong about something, "I'll take fifteen lashes with a wet noodle."

They don't look practical for spanking, but then, I haven't tried it. Any suggestions?

Candy with a Kink

Last week I found some more kinky candy available in Canada.

Whips and straps and sugar, oh my! So what are they - whips or straps? They seem to be the same candy as these Tangy Zesty Belts, repackaged.

Like the Terry's chocolate orange, here is another treat from England that you have to whack before you can enjoy. Just like a bottom!

From the Top Shelf - Spin Dry

Sam Jayne's short story "Spin Dry" is a sweet tale about a woman who uses a washing machine for sexual pleasure. It isn't portable like a vibrator, but it's what she likes best. When her washer breaks down, she goes out I search of another, even though she hasn't any money. When she meets Jed on the street and learns he has won a large amount on a lottery scratch card, she invites him to her flat for whatever sexual favours he wants, in exchange for the money. What happens next surprises Kay and delights Jed, who has been trying unsuccessfully to bed her for a long time.

He followed Kay into the lounge and obediently sat down on her mattress while she disappeared into the bathroom. When she re-entered the makeshift bedroom his heart was thumping. She stood in her underwear - a black lace thong and bra - brandishing a cat o'nine tails Jed had purchased....

After restraining Jed, she gets down to business. Even though the role of domme is one she had never experienced before, Kay gets a thrill from it.

"Worthless scum," Kay hissed as she drew back the flogger and lashed Jed for the first time. He grunted as the whip struck his body, his buttocks clenching in the confines of his shorts. "Useless dog! Here's another..."

This time Jed couldn't contain a more audible yelp as the whip stung his flesh. Again and again Kay brought the nine tails of the flogger down on his back, reddening the skin until it was visibly sore.

Jed and Kay thoroughly enjoy themselves, and when it's over, she takes the money and runs, literally, to the home furnishings store to buy her new washer and have it delivered that evening. (This is fiction, so anything's possible.)

Turning on the controls to the fastest spin-dry speed, she grinned as the machine buzzed into life. On top of the washer Jed sat helplessly awaiting his torture. Kay could not pretend she hadn't enjoyed the afternoon and damned if she was going to let this man get away. With a smirk that promised pain she produced the cat o'nine tails from behind her back...

Jed shook his head, not quite believing his luck. Who'd have guessed the mysterious Kay was a closet dominatrix? Certainly not him, but there was little time to ponder this now. Duty called. Tensing his buttocks, he held his breath and braced himself as best he could for his very first washing machine thrashing. 

From The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Volume 8, edited by Maxim Jakubowski.

Spank Like a Pirate

Today is Talk like a pirate day. In keeping with the theme, here are some helpful spanking terms that have been piratized:

You've been a naughty wench

Hand me that yardarm

Bend over the plank

Lower yer sails and present yer poopdeck

Incoming cannons on the starboard bow

Arrrrr--ouch!

You Completed the Caption

Season: "You have FIVE seconds to get yourself across my knee, little miss Vickie!"

Queen Victoria was kinkier than people realized...

Michael M: "There is no point in being a conquistador if I don't get to spank someone!" he said in a petulant tone.

Ronnie: "That's enough of your insolence wench, fetch me my flogger and I'll teach you to be more obedient in my presence."

Stephen: Five inches? Is that all?

vfrat25000: Bad news your highness, we just found out the Mary you just spanked is actually a MARVIN…..!

Somebody secretly switched King Henry’s nighttime sleepy tea to a double espresso.

Send my attendant to the corner drug store for some Gold Bond Powder. These tights chafe something awful.

Prunes…I need Prunes…My Kingdom for a bag of Prunes.

Your Highness, the Queen is here……..Oh My Stars…..Good Morning Dear…No Dear...I wasn’t spanking the Serving Wench she actually fell across my lap and her dress flew up…HONEST.

Daisychain: NO MORE, NO MORE, I can't spank another ONE!!! My hand is redder than the bottoms of those 29 girls, send the rest away!!!

Sweetpea: "No, no mistress. Please, no corner time; the flogging was enough," said the Earl of Essex to Elizabeth the 1st.

Simon: When Hermione said "Let's dress up" he'd imagined something less elaborate.

Six of the best: Sir Walter Raleigh saying to Queen Elizabeth the First. "Me thinks your highness deserves two lashings. My tongue on your pubic area, and my whip on your voluptuous naked rear end."

Hermione: The young prince knew it was time to usurp the throne when his father the king began spanking imaginary wenches.



Well, that made the weekend fly by! Please join us next week for a very special - and slightly naughty - picture for you to caption.

Complete the Caption

This imperial person appears to be in a state of agitation. His hand is raised, ready to... what? Who is he, and why does he feel the need to do... whatever?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your royal decrees in the next post.

Imagine...wood!

Last week was our anniversary, and in true spanko style, I gave Ron the gift that keeps on giving. Two of them, in fact. The first was a hand-crafted wooden flipper

and the second was a rock maple pizza cutter

They both came from Imagine Wood, a Canadian company that creates beautiful and durable kitchen utensils. As you can imagine, Ron was eager to try them out. He immediately bonded with the flipper, but was puzzled about the pizza cutter.

"Which end do I hold?" he asked me, as he turned it over and around in his hands.

"Experiment!" I advised, and he did. As it collided with my bare bottom, I could feel the difference in each individual swat, as he tried first the thin end, then the thick one, then back again.

The flipper was quite a surprise! It smacked loudly against my unprotected posterior, and Ron was able to make it dance rapidly from cheek to cheek.

"I'm going to try to break this on you," Ron announced gleefully.

"You can't. They're unbreakable. Read the instructions." Rock maple is very durable. But that didn't lessen the impact of the blows.

This pair of implements was a perfectly painful sting and thud duo. The sting of the flipper was augmented by the pizza cutter's thud, and he applied them both effectively and efficiently. I voiced my disapproval loudly; too loudly, as it turned out.

"I feel like I'm doing this to music," Ron complained as he paused to exchange implements.

"Huh? What music?" I was glad of the break, but couldn't hear anything except my heavy breathing.

"That noise you're making. 'Oo ee oo ah ah, ting tang walla walla bing bang.'"

I burst out laughing. "Do I really sound like that?" Were the windows open, I wondered. If you are under forty, you may not recognize the reference to a funny song from 1958 called Witch Doctor. If you're really curious and would like to hear it, it's on Youtube too.

I didn't think I sounded like a chipmunk when I was being spanked. Who knew?

Thanks a Million!

This blog has now had one million page views, and you are the people who made it happen. As a matter of interest, the one millionth visitor was from Germany, and arrived here via Chross.

In the three and a half years that Hermione's Heart has been in existence, we've laughed together more often than we've cried together, and that's the way I like it. I'm glad that so many of you return day after day for the lighthearted approach to spanking that I strive for here. There have been a few serious posts, and there will be more in the future, but my main aim is for good, clean (well, maybe not so clean sometimes) fun as it relates to spanking.

Here's to the next million hits, and to you, my loyal readers.

Your bum is completely exposed

This clever advertisement for Je's Jeans attracts a lot of attention.

The small print beneath the arrow says:

At this moment, your bum is completely exposed. If it were in a sexy pair of jeans, it would attract attention all the time!

Picture courtesy of BoredPanda.com

Naughty, naughty, mustn't touch

Most of us probably grew up with the idea that there was something shameful and naughty about touching ourselves "down there". "It will make you blind" and "You'll grow hair on your palms" were two very common warnings to children. I'm not sure either was terribly effective.

But times have changed. Masturbation is now acknowledged to be a perfectly normal, healthy and pleasurable activity for both men, women...

 ... and even crabs.


Remember to always practise good hygiene.

But if you still have reservations, or feel guilty, then this might be the answer for you.

Then there are some people for whom masturbation is the only answer.

From the Top Shelf - Late

My latest find is The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Volume 8, edited by Maxim Jakubowski. Today's selection - "Late for a Spanking" by Rachel Bussel - is the gem in this collection. What I find interesting is that the story is told in the first person by the male spanker, yet the author is female. Perhaps Rachel is a pseudonym. In any case, besides some juicy spanking details, I have included some of the thoughts and emotions of that spanker. I think you'll enjoy them and possibly relate to them as well.

Laura is late. There's no escaping the fact that the clock tower outside my apartment has just loudly chimed six and my spankee has yet to show.  I walk around my bedroom, running my fingers over the implements I've set out in preparation. There's a tiny slapper, a small patent-leather nothing of a toy, one whose bark will always be worse than its bite. There's a ruler, an extra-long, coated one, for maximum impact. There's a shiny black paddle, stern and strong, like me. There's one with fur on one side, for when I want to soothe her, or just lull her into a false sense of security. There's a strap, my belt, a wooden paddle. I probably won't use them all on her, but I like to have them ready, just in case.

I pace around, trying not to get too angry. Our spanking dates are about fun, about mutual enjoyment as she bends herself over my knee or splays herself across my lap. Sometimes I sit on a chair, completely clothed, while she strips before me and then lies down, her long hair brushing the floor. I have to wait for her to become totally still; she's that perfect blend of nervous and excited that makes her body gently hum and quiver.

...

At six forty-five, my doorbell finally rings... I'm partly surprised, partly aroused and partly annoyed to see her standing there blowing her sweaty bangs off her face, looking contrite and bedraggled... She's pushing thirty but dresses like a schoolgirl--literally. She has on a pleated plaid skirt, strategically ripped fishnets, big black platform shoes, and a skimpy little white tank top... Her hair is in two braids, black eye makeup smeared around her eyes, red lipstick emblazoned across her mouth...

I let my annoyance show. "What took you so long?" I snap, blocking her entrance with my body...

"The train was delayed, and I forgot something in the house..." she seemed to be making excuses, her voice getting whiny. When she looks at me, her eyes blaze both apology and defiance.

...

"I'm going to make you say you're sorry, girl. You were forty-five minutes late! I really should've just left, and your punishment would've been to go home with your bottom just as pale and bare as it is right now. But I'm going to make you pay, don't you worry.... You're going to get forty-five whacks--one for each minute you were late."  

...

Her ass is right there, all mine for the taking. She's got just enough meat on her bones to make her rump perfect for spanking; girls who are too thin make me worry I might truly be hurting them, and I like asses that are wide enough to cover a range of smacks, ones where I need to hit them a few times to cover the entire cheek...

I press down against her body, ensuring that she won't jerk when the first blow lands. Then I raise my hand and bring it crashing down against her right cheek, hearing the boom, seeing her skin go from pale to pink in moments. "One, sir," she says, her voice loud and direct. It always starts out strong, like she's trying to show me how powerful she can be even spread across my lap. By the end, I'll have her whimpering out her numbers--if I'm doing my job right.

I roll her slightly forward to get the best angle, then do the same to her left cheek. "Two, sir," she responds dutifully. I keep going until ten, my palm stinging as the heat roars through our flesh. I pause there, rubbing my palm against her curves, ready to take things to the next level.

The next level is the belt, with Laura bent over the end of the bed. When she is in position and prepared:

I push the belt to her lips, startling her eyes open. "Kiss it, then tell me what number's next," I demand.

Something breaks open inside me, swelling...my insides, puffing me up, when her lips purse immediately. She gave the belt a solid smacker, then says in her most matter of fact tone, "Eleven, sir," as if telling me what she's made for dinner. Her eyes watch me, this time not so much begging as seeking, staring back at me an equal partner in our game. She knows just how much I like to spank her, and I know how badly she needs it, but both of us go along with this game anyway, adding to the thrill. Actually, making the thrill happen. Without me on top and her below, spanking her would be no fun at all, something a machine could do just as well.

...

I drop the belt at twenty-five, picking up the wooden paddle instead. I could insist on the blindfold, but I like the look on her face when she sees what I'm holding--half horror, half need.... I know my job is to urge her on, for the reward is always so much greater than the risk.... The pain only lasts for a few moments, her ass smarting, but the pleasure will keep Laura going for days.
...

And no matter what I use on Laura when she's bent over, no matter how firmly I plant my hand upon her skin as she's asking for it harder and stronger, she knows who really holds the paddle in this relationship. She's got me exactly where she wants me--on top, looking down at her, my hand raised.... And if you want to know the truth, there's nowhere else I'd rather be.