Friday FAIL

Once more, we return to that shopping mecca, fondly known as Wally World.

 Before we go in, check out the weirdness in the parking lot. What is it about Walmart that attracts the brain-dead?

 What can you do when you run out of underwear? Either do the laundry or go shopping for more.

 Interesting that the store actually has a dress code for employees. Too bad there wasn't one for customers too.

 At least this guy is wearing something that approximates undies. But what's with that strand of fabric traveling up under his shirt?

 Nope, they're too small. They won't fit any better if you walk around the store in them for the afternoon.

Forty Questions Meme

I found two memes on Angelbrat's blog and combined the best questions from each to make this one. Enjoy!


1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?  I've gotta do something about my hair.

2. How much cash do you have on you?  Fifty dollars plus a handful of change.

3. What's a word that rhymes with 'Door'?  Floor

4. Favourite planet?  Earth. (Go on, admit it. You thought I was going to say Uranus.)

5. Do you own more than 100 CDs?  Easily more than that between the two of us. We play three every evening while making dinner.

6. Have you ever finished off the popcorn and ate the junk from the bottom of the bag?  I love the crumbs and powdered flavouring left at the bottom of bags of chips, crackers and other snacks. Ron only likes whole pieces so I always finish off the crumbs.

7. What kind of top are you wearing?  A striped, stretchy long-sleeved mock turtleneck.

8. Do you label yourself?  I have "L" and "R" on the backs of my hands.

9. Name the brand of shoes you are currently wearing? WindRiver

10. Bright or dark room? Bright, unless I'm trying to sleep.

11. Have you ever been pooped on from the sky?  Of course. Where there are birds, there's poop. The cars take a lot of hits too.

12. What does your watch look like?  I have five watches, but the one I'm wearing has a black heart-shaped face and a silver band.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?  Letting the dogs out.

14. Have you ever done anything you could be arrested for?  When I was at university I had a summer job in a retail store. I sometimes helped myself to the merchandise, but luckily I never got caught. I have since reformed.

15. Have you ever dated someone a decade older than you?  My first serious boyfriend was over two decades older. We eventually decided that we didn't have a lot in common.

16. Have you ever listened to a song and cried?  It was "Rise Again" by the Rankin Family. A children's' choir sang it at the farewell concert directed by a much-loved choirmaster who was leaving.

17. Who last told you he/she loved you?  Ron

18. What was the last furry thing you touched?  Something with a thousand legs that scurried across my foot just now.

19. How many drugs have you done in the past three days?  I take several vitamin supplements, aspirin and prescription medication, so I'd say 21.

20. Favourite age you have been so far?  The age I am now.

21. Have you ever had a secret crush on a teacher?  Yes, we often had young male student teachers, and they were so much more interesting than our usual middle-aged grumpy female teachers.

22. What was the last thing you said to someone?  Good morning!

23. Have you ever been found sleep walking?  Yes, once. I think I was in the kitchen, heading toward the fridge when I woke up.

24. The last song you listened to?  Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah"

25. What's your favourite number?  pi

26. Where did you live in 1987?  The same place I live now.

27. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?  I get even by unplugging them.

28. Do you kiss with your eyes open or closed?  Open if it's a quick kiss, closed if it's a long sexy one.

29. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?  German

30. What was the last song you sang?  "Ubi Caritas" by Maurice Durufle.

31. Have you ever seen a ghost?  No, but I understand there are several haunted places in the city where I live.

32. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone and mailed it?  Yesterday. I regularly write letters to a family member who doesn't have email.

33. Can you change the oil on a car?  What, and put the mechanics out of business?

34. How far back do you know about your ancestry?  Two generations

35. When showering, do you start the water and then get in, or get in and then start the water?  I start the water first and check the temperature, then get in when it's just right.

36. Have you ever crashed a car?  Never. I have scraped the bumper a couple of times when I was easing into a parking spot. That's as exciting as it gets. (Ron still won't let me forget it.)

37. Does every family have a crazy relative?  Oh, yes, and probably more than one.

38. Have you ever sent a prank call or email?  No, but Ron thinks up funny things to say when telemarketers call.

39. How old do you look?  Much younger than my age.

40. Should guys wear pink?  Definitely. Ron looks adorable in pink.


Please feel free to share this meme on your blog.

Wednesday WIN

Most of us are deeply devoted to our computers and the internet.

The concept has been around for thousands of years.

 You can take on a totally new persona, because no one can see you.

Surfing the net takes you to places you wish you hadn't gone. (Insert bookmark here.)

Just when you're settling down to enjoy a good spanking story, you get interrupted.

The last wish for most of us. Remove those spanking blogs STAT!

A Lovely Victorian

I saw this elegant bottle opener in the Victorian Trading Company catalogue.

"A most accommodating pose invites one to open a cold one. This delightful antique reproduction was popular among many of our grandfathers while grandmother would probably raise an eyebrow!"

It's labelled a best seller, and I can understand why. The pictures only show the lovely lady's front. You have to buy it in order to get a glimpse of her well-rounded derriere.

From the Top Shelf - The Amorous Professor, Part 4

When we last saw Frank Meredith here, he was administering a spanking to Lucy, the insolent maid. Today he begins his new job in the Dartman household, tutoring the two daughters of a widow. At ages 18 and 19, they are idle and willful, and Frank has been given permission to chastise them as necessary if they fail to apply themselves to their studies. Let's see how he gets on.

At the appointed time, I presented myself at the Dartman mansion, rang the bell and was at once admitted by a blushing Lucy...

"Now do come along. Mrs. Dartman is napping, and she told me to be sure you went directly to the study room on the second floor where the two young ladies you are to tutor are waiting."

"Thank you, my dear. They are already waiting, you say?" I asked.

"Oh yes they are, Mr. Frank, but I can tell you they are not happy about it. Cynthia is angry, and Miss Barbara is ready to cry out of sheer spite. Oh what a come-down this will be for them! I wish I could stay and watch you give their bums a good sound smacking, the way you gave mine last night."

"Be careful, Lucy, for Mrs. Dartman may yet call on me again to administer similar justice to your own very charming posterior," I warned her... All business now, I ascended the stairs to the second-floor landing where, at the end of the hall, I should find the study room.

I knocked then heard a gasp and a girl's voice say, "Oh Lord, there he is. Oh isn't it a frightful bore, Cyn darling," evidently from Barbara. I cleared my throat, turned the knob of the door and entered.

It was a very spacious room. There was a leather padded couch to my left against the wall, a huge bay window which looked out upon the garden and then upon the lovely rolling green plains which make England such a beautiful place in the countryside during the late spring and summer months.

There was a large table before which both the young ladies were seated. If looks could kill I would have dropped dead on the spot. Black-haired Cynthia, especially, directed a venomous glare upon me and her sister, more covert and fearful, glowered at me through lowered lashes.

I posed my instrument case on a chair, greeted them cordially but obtaining no response, then after a brief dissertation on what I proposed to do with them this summer, suggested that we begin work. Mrs. Dartman had told me that Cynthia's particular problems were with English literature and history. I therefore proposed to her that she compose for me a short paragraph on what writers such as Shakespeare, Milton and Galsworthy she had read and found interest in. After that I moved on to Barbara and gave her a few simple sentences to parse in French, which was her especial stumbling block. With a doleful look, she whined, "Oh sir, you don't know how bad I am at French, and I don't think even you can help me."

"No one can help you unless you try, Miss Barbara. Now at least make some effort," I sharply remarked.

I then busied myself with several papers in a briefcase I had brought with me, drawing up a kind of schedule whereby both girls would be required to work at the same time but on different projects. At the end of about ten minutes, I moved to Cynthia and asked her for the paper with her observations on it. She shoved over a sheet of paper on which a single sentence was written. I looked at it and read the following: 'English literature is a frightful bore and so is the man teaching it. Signed; Cynthia Dartman'.

She had, to be sure, followed the letter if not the spirit of what I had required of her: it was definitely a paragraph in her own words. I looked up at her and found her regarding me with all the hostility in the world, her lips curled in a sort of sneer as if to say, "Now what are you going to do about it, Mr. Meredith?"

"I see that you have obeyed my instructions, Miss Cynthia," I said sarcastically, "but I'm afraid it's not acceptable. What we need here is less wit and more scholarship. Now suppose you try it over again?"

"And if I choose not to do so?" she insolently retorted.

"Then I'm afraid I shall be obliged to exercise the authority your mother gave me a few days ago when we were first introduced, and resort to smacking your bottom!"

"You wouldn't dare! I don't care what Mater told you, you have absolutely no right to come in here and boss us around. Do you understand, Mr. Meredith? You may as well trot along and get your pay from Mater and be off, because I, for one, don't intend to spend all summer studying this drivel," the dark-haired little vixen vehemently declared.

There was no doubt of the serious nature of the challenge to my authority. If I gave one inch, I would have no authority whatsoever for the rest of my time spent with these two little shirkers.

"Are you determined to continue with this attitude?" I persevered nonetheless.

"You can go to bloody hell!" was Cynthia's unladylike response.

I shrugged, left the table, and walked over to the chair where I had left the instrument case. I took out the leather sole, the famous spanker which had castigated Lucy's white-skinned, rosy-flecked naked bottom so thoroughly the night before. When Cynthia saw it in my hand she got up from her chair and uttered a cry.

"Oh no, you shan't! You dare touch me, and I'll tear your eyes out, Mr. Meredith. You go back and talk to Mater, and don't you dare lay a hand on me, do you hear?"

"You are a very spoiled, rude and insolent young lady," was my answer. "At nineteen there are girls in England who are already mature women as far as emotional and intellectual stability are concerned. I would put you down as a mere child, spoilt by the excessive advantages of breeding, money and too little discipline in the past. Let's see if we can remedy that now. Miss Cynthia, I intend to give you a good smacking on your naked bottom with this leather sole."

"Like bloody hell you will!" she shouted, stamping her foot in rage.

Barbara, seated at the table, gasped as I suddenly caught hold of Cynthia's wrist and twisted it, until, with a shriek, she was forced to double over before me in order to release the pressure on her delicate limb. Meanwhile she tried to kick at my shin and curse me in language more suited to a guttersnipe or a fishwife in the streets of Soho than would be expected from a teenaged daughter brought up in the gentle countryside by a respectable widow.

I knew I could expect no help from Barbara, nor did I wish any on this first encounter. I merely took hold of Cynthia's neck with my other hand, after tucking the leather sole into the pocket of my coat, and forcing her wrist high up her back, quick marched her over to the couch. She was still storming and cursing at me in a shrill voice that would soon waken her mother if she increased the intensity. I sat down on the couch, flung her across my lap, quickly clamped my right leg across her calves and then, as I released her wrist, I quickly hoisted up her blue rayon print dress and half-slip of cream-coloured expensive silk, to disclose two sumptuously oval arse-cheeks encased in pale peach-coloured silk knickers.

This veil of modesty had legs stretching maybe two inches below the base of her spaciously contoured posterior, and was flounced with Belgian lace, altogether a very fetching garment. Discovering herself thus being prepared for punishment, Cynthia Dartman shrieked and tried to rush her hands back to protect her posterior but I simply caught her wrists in my left hand and pinioned them out of harm's way, while with my right hand I restored the ascent of the dress and half-slip.

Then, tightening my grip on her wrists which she had begun to jerk with all her ferocious young strength, I inserted the fingers of my right hand in the waistband of those knickers and yanked them down, so that ignominiously and for the first time, Cynthia Dartman was compelled to expose her entire ivory-skinned virgin arse to the eyes of her executioner and - most humiliating of all - to the eyes of a man.

"Oooooh...you pull my knickers back up right this minute... Barbara, go and call Mater - tell her what the filthy pig is doing to me!" Cynthia shrieked, beside herself with humiliation and rage.

"You stay exactly where you are, Miss Barbara, unless you want a dose of the same when I've finished with your sister!" was my swift parry.

It was effective. Barbara let out a frightened gasp and sat back in her chair, looking on with wide, horrified eyes.

Redoubling my grip on Cynthia's wrists, I raised the sole and dealt her a sharp noisy smack across the lower summit of her right arse-cheek, followed by one in the same place on her other globe. Her body stiffened, arched and jerked, and a shrill yell of pained and frustrated rage tore from her.

"Owwww! You hurt me, you bastard! You stop it, you pull my knickers back up immediately, do you hear me?"

"Oh, I hear you quite clearly, Miss Cynthia. And in reply you shall hear the sole whacking against your bottom until you have learned your lesson," I responded. I then began to spank her elegant patrician arse, amusing myself to bring the sole down here and there on her behind with no particular pattern, so she would have no way of preparing herself and anticipating the next spank.

Her body jerked and lunged and threshed itself all over my lap. She continued her baleful threats, interspersing them with foul curses which really shocked me to discover that a nineteen year old girl could abase the English language so dreadfully. This spanking was more than a little overdue and perhaps I was a little over enthusiastic in my application of the sole, but her insolence had really infuriated me.

By the time I reached twenty, she had somewhat forgotten her curses and threats and was begging for mercy but I ignored all that and continued to administer the sole with grim determination. Unrelentingly, now beginning to alternate on the cheeks from left to right, starting at the tops of the hips and working down to the base of her spacious oval arse, I applied the spanker with rigorous, noisy swipes which soon created a flaming, darkening pattern of burning pain all across her voluptuous young bottom.

"I am sorry to be so harsh with you this very first time, Miss Cynthia, but I will not accept rudeness and insolence from anyone, particularly from a mere snip of a girl who has a keen mind but refuses to use it, except to ridicule and deride," I lectured, keeping the spanker pressed across the reddening cheeks of her squirming bare arse as I paused to determine what effect this chastisement was having on the rebellious young culprit.

"You brute, you bloody bastard, you'll pay for this - you'll see - oooo, you're hurting me - you're hurting me awfully!" her young ladyship hysterically denounced me. But since she was still rebellious, I decided to continue. It was the only way to get through to her, it would appear.

The spanker rose and fell five times, all over the plumpest parts of both reddening arse cheeks, delivered in vertical swipes which cracked noisily against the shuddering flesh of her elegant bottom. Her moans and howls were music to my ears and more than repaid me for all the insolent nastiness she had accorded me since our introduction. After about forty five spanks, I paused again and asked her if she thought she could now be more of a lady and pursue her lessons with somewhat less hostility and more concentration. She cried out again, "You can go to hell, you bloody pig! I'd die before I'd do anything for you!"

I could not let her challenge go unanswered. The spanker resumed its work, and once again Miss Cynthia Dartman's howls and yells rang out clamorously in the study. Her hips swerved so violently that at times she nearly fell off my lap, and I had to lay the spanker down and put my right hand on the edge of her right hip to restore her to the proper position across my body. Then, readjusting the clamp of my right leg over her upper calves, and noticing with wry amusement that her knickers had worked down past her knees and were twisted, I resumed the spanking.

Now I struck diagonally, and at times over the narrow, amber crease that separated the oval globes of her behind, so as to pinch those luscious hillocks together and cause her the utmost pain. Her voice began to break with sobs and was raucous from all her screaming but she was no longer cursing me. She was wailing plaintively that she was in mortal pain, that I was killing her, that she couldn't take any more. I gave her ten more good ones, well spaced, at each of which she screamed out again for mercy, and then once again I pressed the tip of the leather sole against the crease of her bottom-globes and demanded, "Are you willing to accept my authority now and work to improve your scholastic marks, Miss Cynthia? Or do you want a dose of the cane?"

"Aaaagh no not the cane! Oh you've killed me - I can't stand any more - I'll do whatever you want - ohhhh you have really hurt me - ohhh let me go!" she blubbered.

All her patrician arrogance had fled, but all the same I knew I had made an implacable enemy. I therefore released her and instructed her to go to her own room and stay there. I would have, I told her, make-up work for her to do next time we met, which would be the next afternoon. After she had left, a very ignominious picture of dejection, her face red and streaked with tears, hobbling out after hastily lowering her dress and half-slip and hauling up her knickers, I turned my attention to Barbara, who had been sufficiently awed by my performance to at least try some measure of effective work, although it was obvious she would never master the French language...I knew one thing for certain, however, and that was that the young and pretty Barbara Dartman would be the next to feel the full weight of my tutorial authority.

I pity poor Barbara. Surely she wouldn't do anything to deserve the cane. Or would she?

You Completed the Caption

Good sportsmanship is important in any game. Your responses proved this:


Simon: My lifelong toxophilia began with Ms Jones, my archery tutor.

Prefectdt: Finally, Hawkeye had found his perfect porn site.

Six of the best: No wonder Robin Hood, was such an expert archer. With targets like these feminine bottoms. 'Six of the best' strokes was easy.

Bonnie: Gloria demonstrated her enthusiasm for hunting by wearing her favorite camouflage thong.

Red: Gloria's lack of concentration on the target, has her now standing in the corner, awaiting her bottom being the target of a spanking.

Michael: It has been lost over time, but the truth is the legendary Robin Hood was really a woman.

Sir Wendel Jones: "Is that an arrow in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Gary: Felicity had misread the invite that stated 'bow tie only'.Her master therefore put her in the corner to await her punishment.

Kim B: OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS What a Shot.

Vfrat25000: The subscriptions for the Outdoor Explorer Magazine have tripled in the last few months. Any ideas why?
I have no idea!

Hey George I have a quick quiz. Which one is strung tighter; the thong or the bow
I don’t Fred. What I do know is if you pull back the bow you might get a deer. If you pull back the thong you might get 20 years.

Danggggg! Old Herman looks a WHOLE LOT BETTER from the rear than he does from the front.

Uh Mary, sorry to bother you but this is the set for the West Street Baptist Church Revival commercial. I think you probably want the “Beer on a Rope” production on Stage 2

Penelope, Whistle Bend’s new quiet, sweet and timid Kindergarten teacher showed all the “Good Old Boys” in town how to kick ass and take names at the annual Bow Shooting Competition and Bratwurst Eating Contest. I heard a rumor four of the town’s confirmed bachelors offered their hand in marriage at the town dance afterwards.

Ricky: Oooh, I just hate/love the recoil!

Kingspan: The judges disqualified her for distracting her competitors. Her boyfriend spanked her for the way she did it.

Ronnie:  Felicity knew one way she could win and that was to distract the opposition.

Hermione:  It was the first and last time Amanda volunteered to play Cupid in the annual Valentine's Day parade.


Thanks you all for playing the game with me. Do come back for more challenging fun next week!

Complete the Caption

Archery is a fascinating sport, and attracts enthusiasts from all walks of life. A little friendly competition can turn into a fierce struggle when the target is also the trophy.

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

Friday FAIL

Product labels and messages that FAILed.

 Price tag placement leads to confusion. It still might be a game worth playing.

 That would dissolve the wax, but how to get it in your ear?

 You have been warned!

In case you can't read the handwriting, it says:
Fix stove
Was unplugged
Dumbass

 There's no arguing with a generator.

Pain or Pleasure?

What is it about pain that appeals to us spankos when we experience it on our nether regions? Why is it so pleasurable on our bottoms, yet quite unwelcome when we feel it on other parts of our body?

I had reason to ponder this anomaly last weekend when I was preparing dinner for some guests. I had filled some flattened chicken breasts with asparagus and cheese, rolled them up, secured them with toothpicks, and browned them in a skillet on the stove. Then I placed the skillet in the oven to finish cooking the chicken rolls. When they were done I removed the skillet from the oven, then decided it would be a good idea to remove the wooden toothpicks, so my guests would not injure themselves or accidentally eat them.

This proved more difficult than I thought. They refused to budge. I struggled to restrain a piece of chicken with tongs while I pulled at the hot toothpicks with my fingers. The pan started to spin, and in an effort to control it I grabbed the handle, forgetting that it had just come out of the oven. Yeowch! I let go immediately and rushed to the sink to put out the fire in my hand with cold water. But I couldn't linger; the food was cooling off.

"Ron," I called. "Can you get me the pliers?" I was determined to get those toothpicks out one way or another and put the meal on the table, in spite of the pain.

Ron came into the kitchen, took one look at my face and asked what was wrong. I showed him my hand and explained what had happened. After examining my burn, he obligingly fetched the pliers, but he was no more successful than I had been in removing the wooden objects. He declared that we would simply warn our guests about the embedded hazards, and together we plated the food. (I hope Gordon Ramsey doesn't find out about this. He would spank us both.)

While Ron carried the plates to the table, I ran upstairs, broke a stalk off my aloe vera plant, and pressed the jellylike interior against my blistered hand. It felt better immediately.

My hand throbbed all through dinner and for the rest of the evening. I endured it, but couldn't help wondering about the paradox. When I am spanked, the pain is much worse than what I was feeling in my hand, but pain from a spanking is also pleasurable. Why wasn't I enjoying my burning hand in the same way? Why was it just painful, but not in a good way?

I am always stoic about pain from injuries, and rarely make a fuss. I didn't tell our guests about my accident and did my best to conceal my discomfort. Spanking, on the other hand, makes me shout, squeal, and protest loudly. It's my way of showing my appreciation, I suppose. If I were to endure a spanking silently, Ron would probably think I wasn't enjoying it, and might even stop.

What about you? What are your thoughts on pain and how you handle it?

Wednesday WIN

There's something for everyone in this assortment of gems from my cartoon collection.

Come Follow Me

For most of us on Blogger, it is a real source of pleasure to view our blog and see the number of followers we have. The Followers gadget is a handy way for readers to tell a blogger that they like his or her blog and want to keep up with the latest posts. Besides having the reader's picture appear as a follower, the blog is automatically added to the reader's reading list (if the reader is also on Blogger) and to the reader's Google Reader. It has benefits for the blogger too. A blogger can click on the picture of any follower, find and follow that person's blog, and form a new friendship.

All this is made possible by a feature known as Google Friend Connect. Here's what mine looks like. You can also see it in the sidebar on the right.

At one time, every new blog created in Blogger automatically included this gadget, so it was easy to attract followers. But times have changed. Google+ has replaced Google Friend Connect, and GFC is slowly being phased out. It often doesn't work properly, and the Google engineers aren't too concerned about fixing the glitches. Still, it's a very handy gadget, and an excellent alternative for those of us who don't want to use Google+. The replacement gadget - Google+ Followers - is only for Google+ accounts, and many of us don't want to make the switch to Google+.


So why don't new bloggers (or old bloggers with new blogs) simply add the gadget themselves?

Good question. The answer is, it's hard to find. In an attempt to force people to use Google+ Followers instead, the clever engineers have made it seem that the old Followers gadget is no longer an option. You may go to your layout, click Add a Gadget, and come up empty-handed. But don't despair. If you promise not to tell Google that you heard it here, I'll let you in on the secret.

When you try to add a gadget, and scroll through all the possible gadgets, you won't see Followers. But if you click on More Gadgets in the upper left, guess what?

You will see another long list of even more available gadgets, and Followers is at the very bottom of the list. Voila! Now all you have to do is select it, and it will be added to your blog layout. Save the layout and you're done!

Now sit back and watch the number of your followers increase each day. It works for both Google+ and regular Google, as well as Yahoo, Twitter, OpenID, Netlog and AIM accounts.

From the Top Shelf - Coming to Terms

Coming to Terms is a new ebook by seven of our blogging friends and authors. The spanking fiction anthology which includes stories by Jade Cary, Cara Bristol, Alta Hensley, Celeste Jones, Sue Lyndon, Renee Rose and Anastasia Vistky.


The excerpt I've chosen to share with you is from "Reconnecting" by Celeste Jones. There's something special about her story - apart from the spankings, that is. Celeste has recreated our blogging world in her story.  You just might be able to relate to Daisy, a woman in a DD relationship who has been spending entirely too much time online lately. Her husband Reece knows and tries to put a stop to it by asking her to keep a record of what she does all day. Daisy visits many of the blogs that you probably also read. Modesty forbids me from including the passage where my blog is mentioned, but I've included a section that contains references to three popular bloggers. Read on!

Shouldn’t you get off the computer for a little while? I’d hate for you to get in trouble. Minelle always acted like such a scaredy cat.

You work hard. This is your time off. You should be able to spend it how you like. Ana preferred to be more confrontational.

Like a scene in a movie, Daisy felt as though she had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. She knew who she should listen to. Whether she actually would seemed unlikely.

She’d obeyed Reece’s instruction to print out the time log, which broke the day into fifteen-minute increments. Since she didn’t wake up until about nine she wrote sleeping for the hours up to then. From noon to twelve-thirty, she wrote in lunch. In truth, she ate a sandwich at her computer while playing a word game with her mother, and catching up on the posts from ‘My Bottom Smarts Brunch’. Bonnie always had the best discussions about DD-related topics. And it was The Source for all the latest spanking blogs. Finding ‘My Bottom Smarts’ had been like opening a spankophile treasure chest. Fortunately, Reece had been out of town that night, because she stayed up nearly until dawn clicking from blog to blog to blog, soaking up spanking posts like a dried-up sponge in a bucket of water.

Didn’t Reece understand? This community played an important part in her life, and she’d been excited about spending uninterrupted time catching up on all the posts she’d been meaning to get to. She even had a list of blogs she yearned to visit, but hadn’t had time to yet.

Reece comes home to find that Daisy has been online all day and what's worse, has lied to him about how she spent her day. There was only one way to deal with that!

He spoke softly. “I realize you don’t agree with my decision to discipline you.” Although he couldn’t see her face, he imagined her cheeky expression in response. “But, I appreciate the fact that you have not resisted.” His hand lifted and lowered to connect with her left cheek. Usually the first stroke of red to her fair skin excited him. Tonight it saddened him.

He continued his duties. Three quick swats to the same spot on her left cheek, followed by an equal number on the right. Daisy neither spoke nor moved.

By now warmth spread across her buttocks. His fingers started to sting, but his task had just begun. He brought his palm down repeatedly on the same spot on the underside of her cheek, but it brought no response from Daisy. She did not complain or resist. Her stoic submission created an ache in his heart. While he tried to connect with her, she shut him out.

Usually a firm spanking helped them to resolve their differences, but this one seemed to be having the opposite effect. Unwilling to allow her to avoid punishment, Reece set his resolve and swung his hand down upon her backside with even more force. By now, her entire rear end colored deep crimson, her thighs nearly as dark. Under normal circumstances, Reece would have deemed this amount of punishment sufficient, but he could tell she had not given up control. Had not given up her righteousness.

He reached for the nightstand and pulled out the leather paddle. Her body stiffened at the sound of the drawer opening and closing. They both knew it could only mean one thing.

He’d honestly hoped realizing he had the paddle would create a stronger reaction.

It did, but little did Daisy know that the worst was yet to come, and it didn't involve spanking.

Coming to Terms is available on
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon DE

You Completed the Caption

This image from days gone by inspired an abundance of creative captions.


 Bob: Just can’t think of anything for Hermione’s complete the caption. Perhaps if I stay in this position long enough someone will lift my skirts and in-still some motivation.


Sir Wendel Jones: Now I stand before you praying as this day is coming to a close and I fear my bottom will be full sore.
Oh dear Lord, spare me the thrashing I shall surely get whence my husband comes a knocking on my chamber door.
Quoth the Dragon - You ain’t got a chance, missy.

DelFonte: Her father had told her a dragon was not a suitable pet. Now she was waiting for St. George to turn up and teach her lesson.

GaryNTboy: I swear, if that maid doesn't come and loosen this corset I'll turn her into a dragon.....Ooops...sorry. I didn't mean to do that !!

Spanky: "No! I said Dragoon!"

Sunnygirl: You can pray all you want, you're still getting that spanking.

Vfrat25000: Let’s see. What are live dragons going for on E-Bay?

Puff you darn dragon. Did you eat Mr. Perrywinkle?
That figures. His life insurance doesn’t go into effect until tomorrow!

Oh my stars. I have the MOTHER of all hangovers and some idiot left his dog for me to watch!

Is this animal control? This is Mrs. Pudwhistle at 1402 Wee Willy Lane. I have a live dragon in my bedroom. Would you please come over and pick him, up as soon as possible. Yes a dragon. He scaly, green, breathes fire and has wings. That sounds like a dragon to you doesn’t it? Hello! Hello! Hello!

Where am I going to find a litter box for a dragon?

Revered Mulligan, this is Mrs. Clinghoffer. I need some assistance. My idiot husband has turned himself into a dragon. What do you mean you don’t turn dragons back into people? Have you tried?

A. Lurker: The dragon is thinking "I would love to set that rump on fire!"

Six of the best: Hermione, that lady of a bygone era, is thinking about the naughtiness she committed, and is about to have her long dress raised waist high. Her bloomers will be comimg down. And on her bare bottom, her husband has promised to give her 'six of the best' hard strokes of a pliable stinging cane.

Bonnie: "Alas, no perfume or cleanser can remove the overpoweringly pungent smell of brimstone."

Prefectdt: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
Bless this rump I sit upon
And if I brat or law do break
To my rear a cane do take
Amen.

Michael: "Alas, nobody understands me except my pet dragon, Smaug." *sigh*

lill jo: Man. my butt is swollen from that last spanking!

Welcome lill jo!

Ricky: Oh, my gosh! Flying dragons! What's next?
OK, OK, I'm sorry I cheated at bingo!

Lady Koregan: You conjured a dragon.
You conjured a dragon.
A DRAGON!!!
Oh my aching head!
How many times have I told you to leave grand-mama's Grimore alone?
I'll call the exterminator. In the meantime, go up to your room and wait for me. I'm going to show you a much more practical use for that wand of yours...

Thank you all for having fun with me this weekend.

Complete the Caption

Some days nothing goes right. This poor lady seems to be in distress. What would help her feel better?

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