From the Top Shelf - Executive Disciplinary Procedures

Last weekend I had the pleasure of browsing through a remarkable blog by the name of Rosy Tales. Co-authored by Lori Cane and Tomas Elu, it's a goldmine of every kind of spanking story imaginable; there's something there for everyone.  A story called Executive Disciplinary Procedures by Tomas Elu caught my eye because I am a big fan of office discipline. As it turned out, that wasn't exactly what the tale was about, but it was a good read nevertheless.

The story's main character is Patricia, a high-powered executive in male-dominated industry, who has had to be tough and aggressive to get where she was. No one in the office suspected that she was on the receiving end of spankings at home.  In this particular instance, she had given her assistant Julie a telling-off for misplacing some important files. Patricia's husband Eric found out about it and let her know that he planned to administer an attitude adjustment at his earliest convenience. Patricia spent the day reliving previous spankings in her mind and nervously preparing for the one in store for her.

With shaking fingers she turned the handle of the front door. The door opened which meant only one thing, Eric was in!

“Hi Patsy, how was work…no missing files today…no assistants' lives to make a misery of?” Eric asked as Patricia entered the lounge.

Patricia closed her eyes and shook her head as she stood there in silence.

“Common politeness goes a long way, you know not everyone works to your high standards…I think we have discussed this before if I’m not mistaken.” Eric said calmly as he remained sat upon the sofa.

Patricia opened her eyes though didn’t look at Eric; her eyes were cast down at the floor as she replied.

“It was just a little mixup, it’s all sorted out now.”

“Perhaps it is sorted out, but is your attitude sorted out?”

“I’m sorry…it was a big contract…” Patricia’s voice trailed off as she knew that Eric’s mind was already made up, he had already decided on adjusting her attitude.

“Pop along to the bedroom; you know the routine.” Eric said as he picked up the TV guide and started reading.

Forlornly, Patricia trudged off to their bedroom, all that was going through her mind now was how long it would be before he followed her. This was a new thing that Eric had put in place two spankings ago; he thought that a little pre-spanking time out would be good for Patricia, as it would help her to focus her mind on what was to come.

On entering the bedroom Patricia took off her dark grey jacket and carefully hung it in her wardrobe. Next she unbuckled her shoes and placed them to the side of the wardrobe. Patricia undid her hair, then brushed it so that her long auburn locks fell down to frame and exaggerate the paleness of her face. Then putting the brush back upon her dressing table she went to take her allotted place by the side of the bed. Folding her arms behind her back, she waited.

Standing in this manner she often wondered what her colleagues would make of all this, would they even believe it even if they walked in upon her and Eric?

Most that knew her would think it impossible that she could give herself so meekly, so submissively. No one would think that this boardroom high flier could or would agree to such a situation. The fact of the matter was though at some deep dark level Patricia found her situation almost therapeutic. She was giving herself both mentally and physically to her husband, she was stepping out of her ‘normal’ life to sometime long gone by. Some time that perhaps never really existed, save perhaps for in the I Love Lucy show.

A thought suddenly sprang to Patricia’s mind as she stared at the wall, ‘what underwear did I put on this morning?’ for the life of her she could not recall what she had put on this morning. She toyed with idea of checking, and then perhaps even changing into something more sexy if needs be, when she heard the footfall of Eric upon the stairs.

Eric entered the room and saw his wife standing obediently in her required position. He breathed deeply he took the scene in; there she was in a dark grey skirt and ivory blouse, her long hair flowing down across her shoulders, the sunlight catching and bringing out the redness of her tresses, there she was his beautiful wife waiting for his approval.

Waiting for his punishing palm.

He walked around the bed and sat down behind her. He heard and felt her gasp, as he slowly lifted up her skirt till it cleared her womanly hips. Then Eric carefully secured the skirt's hem by tucking it all the way around into its own waistband. He then took hold of Patricia’s left hand, his finger rubbing over her wedding ring he then said in little more than a whisper.

“The sooner we start the quicker it will be over.”

Taking her cue Patricia moved past Eric then she draped herself over his lap, her eyes focussed now on the very familiar pattern of her bedside rug. As she looked at the Mahal pattern she felt Eric’s fingers tugging down her pantyhose. She knew that her denuding would be done slowly; slowly as to rank up her humiliation, slowly to take away her sense of maturity, slowly to make her feel like a naughty little girl!

Once her pantyhose were at her ankles, Eric concentrated upon the lowering of Patricia’s panties.

“You know it is really silly a woman of forty two having to have her bare butt tanned?” said Eric.

Patricia did not reply, as any reply would have just sounded vacuous.

Then once that her panties had joined her pantyhose Patricia knew that she would not have long to wait for the pain to begin. Eric spanked hard from the very first slap, he had no intention of warming Patricia into a spanking, and he wanted the effects to be as instantaneous as possible. Patricia did not know if Eric was a ‘good spanker’ or not, as he was the only person that had ever lifted a hand to her ass she had nothing else to compare to.

She did know though that he was a very effective spanker; his hand covered all of her butt and the tops of both hamstrings, he did so though in a random manner. He would not just spank alternatively from one cheek to another; his hand would sometimes fall perhaps three times in a row upon the same spot before moving off to a newer paler target area. He would continue till either Patricia was in tears - real tears though, not the crocodile variety - or until he had painted her butt and the backs of her thighs bright red with his palm.

As always it took less than four minutes for Eric to have Patricia in tears and crying out her apologies for her behaviour.  Eric then helped his sobbing wife up to her feet; he pulled her close to him the weight of her breasts resting upon the top of his head, his mouth resting upon her tight stomach. Patricia then felt a gentle kiss upon her belly, then one a little lower.

She knew that going for her run tomorrow would be a problem; she knew how raw her ass would still feel...she knew that she would savour each and every pain-filled step.

Read the whole story here.

You Completed the Caption

Here are your impressions of this action-packed picture.


Simon: "When you said that you wanted to experiment with spanking within the context of a stable relationship, this wasn't quite what I imagined."

Joey: "Stop your complaining, this is what you get for horsing around."

My compliments to Simon. Very clever.

Dragon's Rose: See? Politics and spanking do mix! Ok, maybe not....

Kingspan: The cast parties for the local production of Equus got a little out of control.

Bonnie: "No one does promotions quite like the Philadelphia Fillies."

"I think you've got that saddle on backwards."

Young Lady: "When I said the back of the horse, I MEANT the back of the horse - RIGHT HERE!"

BTW, Simon's comment is pure genius! 

Fanz123: I thought I told you two, No horsing around in here!

Ronnie: The rehearsals for the local panto got a little out of hand.

Michael: Few people knew that talking horse Mister Ed had an affair with Wilbur's wife Carol which produced two offspring - or maybe that should be foals. Considering their kinky origins it was no surprise when the sisters grew up to be spankos.

Six of the best: Bonnie says, "Hermione, we must stop horsing around like this." Hermione says, "Bonnie, and let them think we are a horse's ass."

Daddy: I'm a HORSE , Not A JACKASS!! See if you say THAT again!

Mitch: The bottom is OK, but leave my tail alone!

Daisychain: "You didn't have to dress as a horse to be horsewhipped, you know..."

Simon's comment can't be topped!

Ricky: Santa's reindeer working out a few kinks.

Lea: You can make any crazy Halloween costume choice work by showing some skin and adding a little spanking.

Gary NT boy: A re-enactment from a scene in The Godfather. "No, no. Your line is 'A man in my position can't afford to look ridiculous.'"

Vfrat25000: Hey man, hurry up. Your wedding starts in 5 minutes.
You go one without me. Tell Jennifer I’m running about 30 minutes late. Make up an excuse…my Tuxedo popped a button.
Are you nuts Jim?
Look at this...I’ve got two women wearing horse heads spanking each other in front of me. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. A guy can pretty much get married anytime.

Now this is my idea of a Rodeo worth watching!

Do you see what I see? Either this is someone filming one of those weird Independent Films or I shouldn’t have taken that Tylenol which expired in June 2006

Professor Finkelstein from my Ancient Ceremonies and Mythological Studies class is going to LOVE my senior project.

Betty, come look at this. Check out our new neighbors. I bet you never saw anything like this when Reverend Franks lived next door. Get me a beer, a chair and a pair of binoculars.

Michael M: "You should have asked what he meant when he invited us here to be his pony girls."

Hermione:You are in so much trouble. It's my turn to be the front end of the horse. Now take off that head.


I'll see you all in 2013. Until then, take care!

Complete the Caption

I have no idea what inspired this duo to dress this way, but I'm sure you all have some good guesses.

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

Friday FAIL

Oh, the perils of public transportation. Hold on tight!

And tighter!

Even waiting for the bus sometimes requires a little steadying support.

Hello? Can you hear me? You're breaking up...

The Breakaway Paddle

In 1953 George F. Jorgenson invented a paddle with a breakaway handle, for use by overzealous disciplinarians. He explains in his notes, "A primary object of this invention is to provide a paddle for use in disciplining...the paddle having means for preventing accidental injury...by striking too hard a blow." The paddle was "light in construction, sturdy and durable, and inexpensive to manufacture."

No need to exercise restraint and moderation; the paddle will do it for you. Apply the paddle with too much force and the handle will give way, I assume at numbers 43 and 38. (Patent number 2645488)

Wednesday WIN

Things didn’t quite go as planned for the two men who tried to rob Zhen Yang’s convenience store in Gatineau, Quebec.

First, Yang doused them in bear repellent, then he bent one of the thieves over the counter and spanked his bare butt. Then, out of nowhere, Mrs. Yang showed up and clearly expressed her anger and fear on the intruder’s head with her foot.

Seasons Greetings from Hermione and Ron

Ron and I wish each and every one of you joy and peace this holiday season.

And to all a good night.

From the Top Shelf - Schadenfreude

As a special treat, her's a lovely Christmas story for you by the late Alex Birch.

Schadenfreude

"Oh for God's sake, stop arguing!" The attractive blonde woman turned in the driving seat, her face flushed and angry, and glowered at the two children in the back seat.

"I didn't start it, he did," replied Karen sullenly, glaring at her younger brother who sat smirking beside her.

"I don't care who started it, you are old enough to know better. Now stop it at once or I'll tell your father!"

That's it, thought Karen, staring angrily at the woman who had now turned back to concentrate on her driving. Tell daddy, that's your only answer to everything. Karen was ten going on twenty and was heartily sick of both her seven-year-old brother, Mark, and her stepmother, Caroline, the focus of her sullen frustration. It wasn't that she hated her stepmother - there were times when they got on well - but Caroline had no understanding of children. Karen's eyes misted up as happened so often when she thought of the patience her real mother had had with them both - but she wasn't here any more. She knew how sad her father had been after mummy's death and how it taken two years before he could shake off the misery to start dating again. She had been glad when he met Caroline at an office party, strangely, for a little girl, not feeling jealous or possessive at all. She wanted daddy to be happy and it was clear Caroline made him happy. It had soon become equally clear that she made Caroline nervous. Her stepmother was never comfortable around the children and there were times when Karen found this funny, for she could play jokes and keep her stepmother on the hop. But deep inside, the little girl was hurt. She wasn't that hard to like and she'd never met an adult before who behaved as if she was on hot coals around her. She hoped that one day Caroline would become comfortable with her, try to understand...but until then....

Karen's reverie was interrupted by a sharp pinch on her thigh and an accompanying giggle from her brother. She squealed loudly and almost in reflex, smacked him over the head with her school satchel. Predictably, Mark reacted as if he had been savaged by a dog and began to bawl his head off.

Immediately, Caroline swung round in the driving seat once more, her face a mask of fury.

"What did I tell you about behaving yoursel....oh shit!" the expletive muttered in anger as, with the sound of bending metal, the car suddenly stopped, throwing the three occupants violently forward. All were strapped in and Caroline had been driving slowly behind traffic, so no personal injury was done, but the car had mounted the pavement and struck a tree with some force.

"Oh you little cow!" Caroline almost cried in frustration. "Now look what you've made me do. Your father will be furious..and it's all your fault!"

Karen sat open-mouthed at the rush of invective, tears pricking her eyes at the unfairness of it all. Mommy would never have called her such names and it wasn't her fault anyway. What was she supposed to do, let her snivelling little snit of a brother get away with it?

Caroline swung her shapely legs out of the car, clearly shaking with rage and walked round to the front of the vehicle. Karen could see the suffused glow of anger increase as her stepmother surveyed the damage. She was soon back behind the wheel.

"Well, thanks to you and your stupidity, I've now got to get the bumper fixed before your father finds out. He was furious when I scraped the garage door. Good job he's working away until Christmas Eve! Gives me a chance to get it fixed. Now you dare say a word about this, young lady, and you'll be for it!"

Karen suppressed a smile. Caroline didn't know, but she had been listening through her open bedroom window when her father had spotted the paint on the garage door. He had called Caroline out to him and promised his new wife a damn good hiding if she did anything so stupid again. Caroline had been shocked - unsure if her husband was joking, but Karen knew otherwise. She knew about her father's little 'weakness'. She had once heard snatches of conversation between her parents, three years before, and had seen mummy's flushed face when she came down to breakfast..and noticed how gingerly she'd sat down. But Karen was mature for her years, even at seven, and had never said a word. She grinned as an image of what Caroline might be in for flashed across her mind, but said nothing.

"Now I'll have to drop that car into Brettel's garage and we'll have to go home on the bus," Caroline snapped "and you can take that smile off your face, young lady - this isn't funny!"

Not for you it isn't, thought Karen, but had the good sense to keep her own counsel.

When they arrived at the garage, Caroline ordered them both out of the car. "You can come with me," she ordered, "I'm not leaving you two alone to do more damage!"

Reluctantly but obediently, both children trailed into the garage reception area and heard Caroline explain the situation to Mr Brettel. "Look I can't pay for it now," she pleaded "but I can let you have my husband's credit card number over the phone when I get home. You will? Oh that's great. And you'll have it ready tomorrow? Oh that's marvellous!"

They sat on the bus for the 30 minute journey home and while Mark made infantile conversation, Karen was still fuming. "Daddy won't like you using his credit card without permission." she muttered and that was the last straw.

"Don't you tell me what daddy will or won't like!" Caroline snapped. "This is all your fault anyway. Now I have to pay for a cab to get Mark to his piano lessons...and you're grounded, young lady!"

Karen's eyes opened in horror. "But that's not fair," she whined, " it was all his fault and I'm going to an end of term party this afternoon at Clare's and....."

"You're not going anywhere, miss," her stepmother said angrily, "you've done enough damage for one day. It's about time you learned to behave!"

The remainder of the bus ride was spent in angry silence and Karen reluctantly trailed behind Mark and her stepmother up the garden path and into the house.

"Mark, go and wash your face..quickly..and get your music together," Caroline sapped, "and you my girl, get up to your room and stay there."

Karen glared at her stepmother and stomped up the stairs, threw open her bedroom door angrily and sat on her bed. Caroline followed swiftly behind, reached inside the door and extracted the key.

"What are you doing?" Karen almost screamed and her stepmother smirked in triumph.

"Locking you in until I get back," she said triumphantly. "You don't think I'd trust you to stay there, do you?"

"But you can't do that, it's..." but the click of the lock signified all too clearly that Caroline could indeed do that. Karen sat back on her bed, pummeling her little fists in anger. Maybe twenty minutes elapsed before she heard the hoot of the taxi and the sounds of her younger brother and Caroline departing. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, a slow grin spread across her face for she had developed a skill which negated all Caroline's attempts to imprison her and which would have given her poor father a heart attack had he known about it.

She dragged her bedroom chair to a spot directly underneath the attic window of her bedroom, climbed up on it, and pushed the window open, easing her small body through the aperture and out onto the tiled roof. There was maybe a foot of tiling before the guttering and a sheer drop onto the path but Karen was as sure-footed as a cat, never once looking down as she walked like a trapeze artist across the roof to the similar structure which indicated her young brothers room. She heaved a sigh of relief to find that his window was wedged open, as she guessed it would be for her stepmother was all for fresh air being allowed to circulate in all the rooms. Without looking down at the pathway below, Karen eased open the window and slid through it into her brother's room.

Pausing only to wrinkle her nose in distaste at the mess in there,she opened his door and made her way downstairs, her first aim to get a drink from the fridge before disappearing to the end of term party at her friend's home. But when she reached the kitchen, she spied something which made her chortle with glee. Caroline had left her cell phone behind on the kitchen table.

The little girl's mind raced with possibilities and, hastily, she checked the stored numbers for Brettel's Garage. Yes!!!! She raised her palm in a high fives gesture to an imaginary friend and then reached in her pocket for a handkerchief. She turned on the kitchen radio, the station playing a predictable stream of carols and deliberately stood close to it. Then she clicked on Brettel's number and put the handkerchief over her mouth. She cleared her throat and tried for her most mature voice

"Hello, Mr Brettel...Yes Mrs Forrester here...pardon..no I'm in a store and having to shout above the music..sorry..yes I know it makes my voice sound funny. Look about the car. I've had second thoughts. When you have an estimate for the damage could you phone Mr Forrester," and she gave her father's works number in London. "I think he should be consulted before you go ahead with the work. Yes, thank you."

Putting the phone back where she'd found it, Karen gave a little squeal of delight and retraced her steps back through her brother's window and out across the roof to her own room. She decided to forego Clare's party and behave herself. This would be far more fun!

Two hours later, Caroline and Mark returned and soon she heard the key turn in her bedroom lock. Her stepmother walked in and gave an approving smile to find the little girl lying on her bed reading a magazine.

"My goodness, no howls of protest, no screaming fits?" Caroline muttered, "You must be growing up!"

Karen smiled as politely as she was able and Caroline allowed her to downstairs and rejoin the family unit. She was as good as gold for the rest of that evening and even kissed her stepmother good night before departing for bed.

The next day was Christmas Eve and Karen spent most of the morning putting decorations up, which she loved, and avoiding her little brother. She also kept a discreet eye on Caroline who was becoming ever more nervous as lunch time approached. By now the two females in the family were back on speaking terms and Caroline was fretting. "I better phone Brettel's and ask them what time the car will be finished" she muttered anxiously and Karen nearly had a fit.

"Didn't they say they'd call when it was ready?" she asked, trying to sound as casual as she could. "If you keep phoning them up, they'll just think you're..well...a woman." To her relief, Caroline managed a smile. "I suppose you are right.... sometimes" she said. "I'll leave it until after lunch."

By 2 p.m. Caroline was really stressed out. "I'm going to phone the garage," she said anxiously, "I daren't leave it any longer - your father will be back at six." Karen began frantically racking her brains for another stalling ploy when suddenly all their ears pricked up at once as a key turned in the front door.

"Daddeeeeeeeeee!" squealed Karen and Mark together, fighting each other to be first for a hug as their father walked into the hall. Caroline simply stood still in shock, her hands clasped together, her now panic stricken eyes fixed on her tall husband as he tucked a child under each arm.

"Y-you're home early," stammered Caroline, just keeping her voice steady. "I-I didn't expect you till six."

"No, well I caught an early train from London, my love," he said, his voice even but with a chilling air of menace. "You see I got a phone call from Brettel's garage about my car being in for repair....again. So I thought I'd pick it up myself and see what kind of a job he'd had to do this time."

Karen tucked her head further under her father's loving arm so that she could grin with malicious pleasure, unseen by her victim.

"I-I was going to mention..." her young stepmother sounded hapless, and for a moment Karen had a twinge of sympathy. It soon passed.

John Forrester cut his wife short, abruptly. "Later," he said tersely. "We'll discuss all that later. Let me go upstairs and change and then I can relax with a drink...and you can tell me what's been going on in my absence."

Karen reluctantly released her father's arm and shot a surreptitious glance in her young stepmother's direction. Somehow she managed not to grin but it was a giant effort. Instead she managed a phony look of sympathy. Poor Caroline looked like a woman who has just put on her best dress and then had a ton of bird shit deposited on her head. Her face expressed a kind of childlike shock and horror and Karen had to leave the room abruptly lest she burst into a fit of giggling.

When her father came downstairs again he'd changed into casual shirt and jeans and now sat with a child on each knee, each competing for his affection, while Caroline fussed around him like a nervous heifer, her eyes constantly darting toward his in mute pleas for forgiveness, frequently replenishing his whisky glass like an anxious waitress.

"So what have you all been doing while I was away," Karen's father asked, "apart from wrecking the car, of course."

Caroline flushed and looked hapless once more. This was the time for Karen's master plan to kick in. She was proud of her Machiavellian skills and knew she could play this situation like a fish on a line.

"Oh that's not nice, daddy," she said, playfully smacking his thigh,"it wasn't Caroline's fault. I think it was partly mine. I was arguing with Mark." Her stepmother looked at her, eyes wide in grateful surprise.

"But you weren't the one in the driving seat, were you pet," her father replied mildly, but with clear meaning, and she saw Caroline's face turn a deeper pink. "Anyway apart from that, what have you been up to?"

"Well, Mark went for his piano lessons and Caroline and I have been putting up decorations, haven't we?" She shot a warm smile in her stepmother's direction, a gesture of solidarity which was clearly appreciated. Great! Now she had them both on her side for what she knew would happen next.

"Good, good," her father smiled, "I'm so glad you two have been getting along."

"Oh no they haven't," giggled Mark, unable to resist what he thought was a dig at his sister, "Caroline told Karen she was naughty and locked her in her bedroom!"

"That's enough, Mark" said Karen gravely, playing the 'little mother' to perfection. "That's all forgotten and it wasn't for long."

There was a silence that seemed to last for hours until her father said, with steely anger, "You did...what, Caroline?"

Karen shot her stepmother a look of feigned sympathy, secretly delighted that her blabbermouth of a brother had played his part to perfection. Stupid little boys were so predictable. But now she was 'little miss innocent' and her stepmother was now in deeper shit, that much was clear.

"John, if only you knew how much I...." Caroline's voice was strained and anxious but her husband cut her short.

"Later, my dear. We'll discuss all this later. After the children have gone to bed."

The remainder of the evening was spent in a slightly strained atmosphere which only idiot Mark failed to pick up, scampering around as he always did with his inane prattling until he tired himself out and went off to bed, rambling about whether to hang up a pillowcase or a stocking and what time Father Christmas would come. Karen, being a big girl now who knew that Father Christmas was really daddy, was allowed to stay up much later. This Christmas Eve she did so with malicious relish. It was clear her father would prefer she went to bed as he clearly had serious business to attend to, but she was happy to pander to her stepmother's fawning attention....would she like another mince pie...a chocolate..was there anything on TV she wanted to watch. She grinned to herself, knowing it was simply Caroline's way of staving off her own nemesis just a little bit longer.

Eventually Karen tired of the teasing game, yawned and said she was going to bed, making a big point of hugging both her father and her stepmother tightly before retiring. As she hugged Caroline, she felt the fearful trembling of her young stepmother's body, and she smiled, an unseen triumphant grin.

She went up to bed and knew there would be some minutes before anything happened - and Karen was sure it would. Her father knew it was usually only ten or fifteen minutes after her head hit the pillow before Karen was in a deep sleep and he normally came up to check that both children were sound asleep. Mark would be well in the land of nod already. So she undressed for bed and sat upright, singing quietly to herself to stay awake until she heard her father's footsteps on the stairs. Quickly she got into bed and turned on her side, feigning sleep as her father walked into the room. Gently he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her cheek before turning and leaving, checking on Mark, and then returning downstairs.

Karen shot up in bed, got out and crept to the door, opening it very carefully. She heard her father's raised voice from inside the living room and a series of sobbing replies from Caroline. Quietly she crept along the landing, careful to avoid the one creaky floorboard, and began to tiptoe down the stairs until she reached the halfway point where she could sit, hunched up, but hidden in case the living room door opened suddenly. She could hear clearly what was happening in there, for the soundproofing in the old house was not good. At first her father was talking about carelessness, the cost of repairs, dishonesty and she heard Caroline's voice cracking, apologising, almost craven in her pleas.

Then Karen sat bolt upright, her eyes wide with excitement as the conversation took a more thrilling turn.

"...and I told you what to expect if this happened again! Well now you're going to find out that I wasn't joking!"

"No, John, please, I meant to tell you. I did..it was just...."

"..and you were going to use my credit card? What have I told you about that?"

"John, please I.."

"Take your trousers and knickers off, Caroline!"

"John, please..."

"Do it!"

There was the sound of sobbing and some activity then her father;s voice again.

"Now get over my knee...and be quick about it. Come on, I've seen your bare arse plenty of times!"

Karen wondered how she managed to not giggle aloud, but she bit her lower lip and squeezed her nails into her palms, inclining her head to listen. She wanted to go to the door and peep through the keyhole but that would have been far too dangerous.

The spanking started in earnest and for the next five minutes she heard her father's heavy hand descend over and over on clearly unprotected flesh and she put her hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle of delight, imagining the state of her young stepmother's bottom as it got redder and redder. Well she'd deserved every one, Karen thought, then sighed almost audibly as the spanking stopped. Surely it wasn't over already. That wasn't nearly enough! She heard Caroline's choking sobs as she clearly tried to come to terms with the pain and the shame of a good hiding. Then Karen brightened up as her father spoke again.

"That, my dear, is the issue of the car accounted for..and don't you EVER do anything like that again...now we come to the issue of locking my daughter in her room while you went out for two hours!"

"Oh John, please, if you only..."

"Shut up and listen. She is ten years old. What if there had been a fire? For a start you should never have left a child alone in the house and certainly not locked in her room. She could have been burned to death!"

"I-I'm sorry I didn't think..I..."

"Well you'll be thinking a lot from now on. Go to the cupboard where you'll find a stiff backed wooden hairbrush. Bring it to me!"

"Oh, John no more please, I..."

"Fetch the hairbrush!"

Karen sat on the stairs the lace of her nightdress now between her teeth as she listened. She had never heard her father in this mood before and she found it strangely exciting. This was beyond her wildest expectations!

"Now get back over my knee!"

The next sound was her stepmother's agonised cry as she responded to the sound of a dull thudding thwack. Karen almost winced in sympathy as she sat, hunched on the stairs, listening to every blow.

"If you cry out like that again, my girl.." her father's voice was a growl, "...you'll wake the kids. So if that happens the punishment will be delayed until tomorrow night, when you'll get twice as many And I'll make you stuff your panties in your mouth, Is that clear?"

"Y-Yes John, I'm sorry."

Karen had never heard her stepmother sound so meek and submissive. Nor had she heard her father sound so demanding and crude. Sticking her knickers in her mouth? Wow, how gross was that? Maybe there was some adult thing going on here she didn't understand but she had never felt so alive and excited. She was sure she would never get to sleep that night. The spanking with the hairbrush continued until Karen had counted twenty strokes and her stepmother was weeping like a baby.

Her father's voice had changed. It was gentle, soft, reassuring.

"You took those well. You see, you can be a good girl. Now you go and get the lotion out of the kitchen, get back over my knee and I'll rub it better."

There was the sound of soft, mewling consent from a woman who had been weeping buckets only seconds before. Wow but these grown-ups were odd! Karen wrinkled her nose in disgust. She was a young woman of the world and she guessed that all this 'rubbing it better' and the kitten-like noises from her stepmother were all a prelude to daddy doing that sex thing and she certainly did not want to eavesdrop on that!

Quietly she tiptoed back up the stairs and back into her bedroom, her little heart pounding in her chest. She clambered into bed and looked at her luminous alarm clock before rolling over on her side and closing her eyes. It was 3 minutes past twelve....Christmas Day already! She snuggled up in bed and smiled in contentment. Santa Claus had brought her Christmas present very early this year!

Happy Christmas, everyone!

You Completed the Caption

The jolly old elf seems to be enjoying himself. He'd better get a move on if he's going to be ready for Christmas Eve.

TL Bucko: "Look Ellie May, if you want off the naughty list this is the only way."
"Oh Santa, I'm sorry!"
"You will be when we get to the switch."

 Elle: Sooooo am I on the naughty list or the nice list???

Dawn b: Those stinking bears are lying. I didn't eat all their porridge! It was probably that girl with the red cape that I saw skipping through the forest earlier. I knew she looked like trouble!

Minelle: Wait, wait...I thought you said to enjoy myself at the party last night.

Young Lady: Deborah had agreed to the photo shoot with Greg because it sounded "cute" and "sexy"...it only took her a few minutes to realize Greg had no intentions of "faking it"...this is the first picture. Every subsequent one was much more...fun. :-D

Ami Starsong: Oh Santa! What big red gloves you have!

Not as red as they are going to make these little beauties my dear!

Sunnygirl: "I noticed you weren't wearing red. I will fix that right now".

Six of the best:  "Santa Claus each year has a 'spanking good time', at your house Hermione. So with a few more slaps, on your cute bare bottom. Here's wishing you 'Season's Greetings', to you and your family".

Why thank you, Six!

Ronnie: Sally soon found out that naughty girls do get spanked by Santa.

Smuccatelli: This one's been my Christmas wallpaper for years... ;-)

It's an oldie but a goodie! I didn't see a blog associated with your profile, but if you can tell me the URL,  I will link it  to your response.

Ricky: Whose cheeks are rosy red?
Must be Santa,
Must be Santa,
Must be Santa, Santa Claus!

Vfrat25000: The night Santa entered rehab: The evening started at the North Canada Dinner Theater and Sports Bar with Santa guzzling more Tequila Shooters than the elves could count and ended with the Jolly Red Fat Man belting out three rounds of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” on the Karaoke Stage, paddling the bartender Heidi’s bare bottom and then riding off into the moonlight on the maintenance man’s golf cart singing “She Wore a Tulip and I Wore a Big Red Rose!”

Little Goldilocks from the Fifth Avenue Gentleman’s Club found out the hard way SANTA doesn’t take kindly to offers of a lap dance.

Oh Santa!!! My, My, My, you are going to have a lot to tell Father Flannigan during confession on Friday. I think you can drop the Title of “Saint Nick” you jolly old red-suited perv.

Lea: Santa has a serious look on his face, but we all know he loves the naughty girls the most.

A. Lurker: Elf-vira was dreaming of a white Christmas but little did she know that Santa had her on the Naughty List and now it was time to face the (Christmas?) music.

“This is for laughing at Rudolph and calling him names (like Pinocchio). I'll teach you to not let Rudolph join in those reindeer games (like Monopoly)!" Santa lectured as he started spanking.

"And this is for calling me chubby and plump and laughing at me in spite of yourself!" he grumbled as he continued to roast her rump.

Elf-vira soon realized that Santa wasn’t the jolly old elf that everyone professed him to be and that chestnuts were not the only thing that could be roasted by an open fire.

When she had been suitably chastised, Santa rose up the chimney but she heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight "This is sooo much better than milk and cookies!"

Oh yes, it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

On the 12th day of Christmas, Santa gave to me - - -

(Merry Christmas, Hermione)

Merry Christmas to you too!

Anon: Oh my... i didn't realize how big the North Pole was.

Hermione: Santa was not at all pleased with the celery and tonic water Cindy left for him in place of the traditional cookies and milk.


Happy holidays to one and all!

Complete the Caption

I thought that we should have a Christmas theme for this week's photo, and although this one has been around the interwebs for several years, it's still my favourite. This is a situation many of us find ourselves in during the holiday season, whether we have been naughty or nice.

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

Friday FAIL

The end is near

According to the Mayan calendar, today is the end of time as we know it. Maybe the Mayans just ran out of room on the big rock, but then again... Brrr, it's a scary thought! Lt's hope they're wrong; that would be a big FAIL. Then again, if they were right, it's an even bigger one.

So make the most of today. Spank the one you love, or ask that special person to spank you.

The end is nearer

See you all tomorrow - I hope.

They don't make hairbrushes like they used to

Wow! We had quite an adventure last weekend. Ron broke a hairbrush on my backside.

I first told you about our lovely square hairbrush here over a year ago. Since then, it's been one of my favourite implements. Not only does the flat wooden surface cover a large area at one time, but the bristle side feels so nice when it comes in contact with my bottom. When I am spanked with the stiff, pointy bristles, the brush makes a dull, muffled thud instead of a loud, sharp crack. Each hard, nylon bristle has a tiny round knob on the tip that feels quite nice upon impact. It feels even nicer when the bristles are gently rubbed across my reddened cheeks in between whacks.

What happened? We really don't know. One minute Ron was happily swatting away, and the next minute there was an unexpected pause in the action.

"What's going on," I asked, annoyed at the interruption but also a little anxious. Was Ron planning a secret attack?

"Look," he replied, and as I stood up he held out the brush for me to see. "It's broken."

"How did that happen? I didn't think you were spanking me that hard."

"I don't know, it just snapped. It isn't safe to use right now; I'll try to fix it later." With that, Ron put the brush on the dresser and ordered me to select a replacement from the toybox. I grabbed the first implement that came to hand.

Bad choice. The angled bath brush is a whole lot sturdier than the hairbrush, and it was all "ouch" and no "mmm" from then on.

Ron was as good as his word, and later that day went about repairing the hairbrush, gluing it together then fastening the broken pieces together with two plastic cable ties (like the ones used in 50 Shades of Grey, but not recommended as restraints) until the glue had dried.My favourite hairbrush should be ready for action by the weekend.

Wednesday WIN

Did you know that The Onion, that popular satirical online news site, also has a store? Yes, you can buy totally outrageous, tongue-in-cheek gifts for that special someone at The Onion Store. Here are a few that I thought you might enjoy.

Assorted butts to adorn your refrigerator - why not?

A hand to keep as a reminder of what is to come when the real thing isn't available.

A helpful book to get you out of any sticky situation.

Every office buzzword you've ever heard or used is on this convenient stamp. Use it to personalize your holiday greetings, shopping lists or notes to hubby.

Keep this one handy!

A rasher for your holiday tree, because who doesn't love bacon?


Okay, that last one's a FAIL, but it was too funny not to share.

Top Shopping

What to buy for that special top in your life this year? For the spanker who has everything, I found some novel ideas at Hammacher Schlemmer, a store that offers a multitude of unique gifts for everyone.

The Upper Body Aerobic Exerciser
This is the handheld exerciser that provides an aerobic workout for the upper body. Great for getting into shape before a long, arduous spanking session.

Heat Storing Leather Gloves
Using technology originally developed for NASA astronauts, these lightweight gloves actually store heat in their microcapsule-insulated lining and release it back to you when you need it most. Stimulates the area it strikes and imparts an extra burst of heat upon impact.

The Hand Reflexology Massager
 This is the device that applies gentle, soothing massage to both the top and bottom of the hand after administering a well-deserved spanking to a naughty bottom.

The Always Cool Pillow
A considerate Top will want to offer one of these to the object of his attention after putting the implements aside. A kind and thoughtful gesture that will be well-rewarded.


Order now to ensure delivery before your next spanking.

From the Top Shelf - Carnaby Calling

As a special Christmas gift to you, dear readers, today I am sharing one of my rare attempts at fiction. It was written for the Library of Spanking Fiction's "Through the Keyhole" challenge. The idea was to write a spanking story of between 500 and 2,500 words in which a spanking is secretly observed by an unseen witness. I drew upon my own recollections of the British Invasion of the sixties, combined it with my love of kitchen implements, and a story was born.

Take a look at the complete list of entries here. You will have to log in to read them, and if you don't have an account you will be prompted to create one.

And now, on with the story.

Carnaby Calling

We’re pretty well-off now, but times were tough back in the Sixties. I had just graduated from university and my husband Jeff and I were struggling to make ends meet. We lived in a small, sparsely-furnished apartment on the edge of a middle-class neighbourhood, and Jeff had a pretty good job with an insurance company, but it didn’t pay much. There weren’t many jobs for women with degrees in English, and I was getting discouraged with my job search. I needed some part-time work to bring in a little money. Most of the time I got turned away from entry-level jobs as over-qualified. I needed some part-time temporary work that paid reasonably well, and that meant selling products door to door.

I could have sold cosmetics, but I didn’t wear makeup myself, didn’t know the first thing about it and didn’t care either. Patent medicine products were too old-fashioned and made me think of the snake oil salesmen who peddled elixirs with questionable ingredients in them. Selling brushes was an idea, but they were only hiring men for door to door sales. Besides, the sample cases were heavy and we didn’t have a car. So I got a job selling Carnaby Cookware. The company was named for the popular Carnaby Street in London in the hopes that its trendiness and affinity with the British invasion would somehow induce women to buy its line of kitchen wares.

They carried aprons, tablecloths and matching napkins in the popular psychedelic prints of the day, as well as stainless steel knives and cutlery with similar patterns imprinted on the handles. There was a complete range of kitchen tools too: mashers, strainers, whisks, flippers, slotted and solid spoons, spatulas and the like. The utensils were distinctive, with an orange braided plastic loop for hanging, and a tassel on the end. All the items had names that included the British slang of the day, like “Mod Masher”, “Groovy Grilling Fork”, “Fab Flipper” and Trendy Turner” and we were encouraged to describe the products in similar terms, like “gear” and “heavy”. So much for my English degree!

Over time I learned when I was likely to make the most sales. In the morning most homemakers ran errands or did their housework, so that was when I devoted myself to scanning the papers for job opportunities, writing application letters, filling out applications and taking copies of my resume to potential employers. Evenings were out; women were usually too busy with helping their kids with homework or presiding over social events. Anyway, I wanted to spend my evenings with Jeff. (We couldn’t afford to go out often, but we managed to make our own entertainment, if you know what I mean.) Early afternoons were best, just as the soaps were coming on. If I happened to see a television from my position in the open doorway, I would usually say “Oh, that’s one of my favourites. Isn’t he (or she) something?” no matter what was on. That usually led to a lively conversation and eventually to a sale.

One fine October afternoon I was making the rounds of my neighbourhood. My clipboard with order forms and the delivery list was under my left arm and over my right shoulder was a bag with some merchandise to be delivered. As I walked along the quiet shady street, the leaves – yellow, gold and red - scrunched under my feet. I checked my list against the numbers on the houses as I passed them.

My first stop was a large, split-level house where Monica and Peter Foreman lived. Monica was one of my best customers. In her mid-thirties, she was an excellent baker and always offered me homemade cookies or cake whenever I stopped by. I think she felt kind of sorry for me, because she never failed to make a purchase, even if it was only a small one.

As I walked up the brick path to the front door I noticed a car in the driveway. I guessed that it was Peter’s but I had never seen it before because he was usually at work during the day. I reached the door, put down the heavy bag of merchandise and reached out to press the doorbell when something made me stop. It was a sound coming from inside the house; a slow, rhythmic slapping sound. What on earth could be going on? The drapes were drawn across the big front window, obscuring my view of the interior. The large front door was made of wood, but there was a small panel of glass near the top. Luckily, I am tall, so I could see inside the home if I stood on tiptoe and squinted.

I could make out the furniture in the living room to my right, and that seemed to be the source of the noise. Then I got the shock of my life. Peter was sitting on the couch with Monica draped across his lap. Her skirt was hiked up and Peter’s arm rose and fell rhythmically as he slapped her white cotton panty-covered bottom. But that wasn’t what surprised me most.

In his hand he had one of our more popular items: a long-handled spoon with a wooden handle. The bowl of the spoon was extra-large, for serving stews and things, and it was called the Super Swinging Spoon. The trademark orange tassel and loop fluttered as the spoon collided with Monica’s backside with a loud SMACK, followed by a squeal from the recipient. I watched Monica twist and turn, trying to slip out of her husband’s grasp, while he held her tightly with one arm and continued his efforts with the other. He seemed to be speaking to her, and although I couldn’t make out the words he seemed to be questioning her, because whenever his voice rose at the end of a sentence, Monica would shake or nod her head in reply.

Peter then put the spoon down, and I thought with a stab of disappointment that the spanking was over, but he only did so to free his hand so he could pull her panties down to her thighs. Monica reached back with a yelp and tried to recover the underwear, but that earned her a sharp slap on her hand. After receiving what I assumed was a warning, she resumed her position and Peter adjusted both panties and skirt so he had unimpeded access to her naked buttocks. I saw that they were already a dark shade of pink, and when the spoon recommenced its work, the skin turned dark red.

I suppose I should have been worried that someone might have seen me spying through the door, and I did glance around once or twice, but I was determined not to miss this spectacular show that was exciting me in ways I had not thought possible.  I did have my merchandise with me so if anyone approached I would say I was making a delivery and did they know if anyone was home. In the meantime, I was feasting my eyes on what I saw.

The pace had quickened, and Monica’s curvy bottom jiggled and wobbled as the wooden implement whacked it faster and faster. There was a final flurry of hard, rapid strokes that made her shriek, then the disciplinary session was over. As Peter lay the spoon down beside him, I could see that his face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. Monica slithered off his lap onto the couch beside him and, with a big smile, reached out, put her arms around him and gave him a passionate kiss. Peter’s arms went around her and he caressed her punished cheeks. Then he stood and helped her to her feet, and once more they embraced. Monica kicked the panties aside as the couple turned and headed towards the stairs that were on the other side of the front door.

I stepped back before they could see me, grabbed my bag, turned and walked briskly away from the house and back towards home. I had some serious thinking to do. I wondered what Jeff would say when I told him what I had seen, and how he would respond when I asked him to recreate the scene with the Super Swinging Spoon that I had in my bag of deliveries.  I would tell Mrs. Custers that hers was on back-order.

You Completed the Caption

Travel during the busy holiday season can be trying at times. Here's what you said:


Joey: The female in the photo is a pro domme who received an urgent text message from Mrs. Claus. It seems that Santa has fallen behind in his work watching too many reruns of a Charlie Brown Christmas. So, she is on her way to provide some motivation.

Because of the urgency of the situation, she forgot her panties.

Kingspan: "But I simply can't go to the spanking party on Lord Canesley's yacht. I haven't the proper panties!" she said. "Nevertheless you are going," her husband had replied, "and if you haven't the proper panties there is only one solution."

TL Bucko: "No panties! You little hussy. Just wait until I get you in this aircraft. At least you saved me the trouble of pulling your panties down."

Bonnie: "You told me not to wear a thong today because of the high winds. So I didn't."

Red:  The photo just reminds me of the song: FLY ME TO THE MOON...

Sunnygirl: "So much easier to have instant access. I'm so glad you listened to me. It's so much easier than having to take down those panties."

Simon: "I'm sorry, I think I got the wrong idea when you said would I like to see your chopper"

Vfrat25000: The ACME Helicopter Company always had a history of providing unusual Holiday Bonuses

I am Jeff your pilot. Let me know if you need anything. I understand you are on your way to a Shadowlane Party in Las Vegas. What kind of party is that?

Betty Louise Finkelstein breezed through airport security. Nobody could ever understand why she was always moved to head of the line and received VIP service from the TSA.

LOOK AT THAT…GEEZ LOUISE, WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT……….Maintenance forgot to tighten that hampson bolt. That would have rattled something awful on our flight.

I finally have an answer to that rumor circulating the flight hanger. Fredericka the Boss’s daughter isn't really a FRED. Thank goodness. Tim owes me a $100.00

Uhhhhh Pilot…. Isn't our Helicopter flying sideways...Oh Yeah…..Sorry, I got a little distracted while were loading!

Six of the best: The pilot is flying high. First with the stewardess's skirt above her waist. Then with his hands spanking her bare bottom.

Michael: Sikorsky Helicopter Corporation proved they have the strongest engines in the industry when they blew the panties off the wife of the Chairman of the Board. Sikorsky Chairman Robert Figg was quoted, "Best damned engines and best damn ass, and both are mine!"

Elle: Just step right um...here ma'am. Yep, that's great. :)

Dave Smith: Cinderella made a quick exit at midnight and forgot to take her panties from the Prince's Castle!

Welcome, Dave and elle;)


Young Lady: I don't know what was happening 5 seconds before, but I would bet you 5 seconds after there was an amazing *crack* on her butt. I mean who could resist??

Lillie: "I just have this strange feeling that I am forgetting something..... " remarked Joan casually on her way to the wind tunnel demonstration for multi-denominational clergy persons.

GaryNTboy: Julie realised she'd forgotten something when she felt the sting of his hand on her bare arse as he HELPED her up.

Ronnie: I know it's an emergency and he said come as you are but at least he could have waited until I put my knickers on.

Ami: The thought of a ride gave her a cheeky grin!

Hermione: Charlotte got off on the right foot with her instructor for her helicopter pilot certification test.


Thank you all for taking the time to share some light-hearted fun in this time of terrible tragedy in the US. Our thoughts are with the families of the victims at this time.