Complete the Caption

I just love this picture. So many questions come to mind about this woman and her relationship. I'll let you figure out what is happening on this warm evening.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your conjectures in an upcoming post.

All Better Now

My favourite implement of ass destruction is our dogging bat. In case you were wondering, it has nothing to do with dogs. It's a type of riding crop that originated with cowboys in the southwestern US, and "dogging" means chasing and catching steers while on horseback. The bats are now used in rodeo speed events.

Ours is made of two thicknesses of leather sewn together, except at the larger end, where the two separate pieces of leather slap together. While designed to make noise rather than to harm, it still packs a good wallop. To stiffen it, there is a slender, flexible rod hidden inside the entire length of the bat. Sometimes after a vigorous application, the rod works its way up through the opening at the top (indicated by the yellow arrow in the picture above.) Then Ron has to push it back down inside.

Ron finally got tired of adjusting the bat before or after every use, so he took it away to his workshop and did some repair work with glue.  It was missing from the wall rack for a few days, then reappeared.

"We need to test my repair work," Ron explained, and began to paddle my bottom with it.

"So far, so good," he declared, after a few moderately hard swats.

"Maybe you'd better go easy with it, just in case it breaks again," I suggested.

"Not a chance." The swats became harder and came faster. That's so like him; always doing the opposite of what I suggest. I protested loudly, but it had no effect.

Twice he stopped completely to, I think, examine his weapon.

"Everything okay back there?"

"Everything's just fine," Ron reassured me, then got back to work. He became uncharacteristically creative, varying the speed, rhythm and intensity. I didn't know what to expect next and it unsettled me. 

"You're messing with my mind."

Ron paused a moment. "No, I don't think so.  It's not your mind I'm messing with," then continued his quality control testing of the repair job. Ha ha, very funny!

You will be glad to hear that when the assessment was completed, we both pronounced his handiwork satisfactory.

From the Top Shelf - Welcome to the Board

This short story by Paul Dean reveals what happens when a wife's cooperation is needed to help her husband rise to the top in his chosen field. 

"For God's sake do exactly what he asks - exactly - or it could mean my future."

The words rang in her ears as she ascended the wide staircase towards his study. She glanced across the hall, into the large room where most of the guests were assembled, conversation and laughter filling the air. It was all so wonderful, everyone looked so beautiful, the men in their dark dinner jackets and crisp white shirts, their wives in their best gowns, shimmering blues, golds, whites and reds. Fiona paused on the stairs, just to drink it all in, to savour the moment of her first party, her first company ball at the luxurious home of the chairman, Sir George Francis.

She remembered the moment so well. The moment when Toby, her husband of just nine months, had burst through the front door of their tiny apartment with the wonderful news.

"Darling, I've made it on to the board, I've bloody well made it!" His grin was so wide she thought his face would fall in half. "Director of Advertising, seat on the board, new car and loads of lovely money."

She had flown into his arms.

"Well done, Darling! Well done. I knew you would get there. Oh, you are so clever! How wonderful!"

Now their money worries would be over. The past nine months had been very difficult, trying to maintain a good lifestyle had proven very hard, having to keep up with both her and Toby's richer friends. Even her wages from the company had not been enough to keep them out of rising debt.

Toby had taken his new post two weeks before, just in time for the annual company ball. Fiona bubbled with pleasure at the thought of mixing with the very top brass in the company, particularly being introduced to the powerful chairman.

She had shopped around carefully for new clothes. Toby said she should look her best. She eventually settled for a simple black gown that clung to her hips and then softly swirled out into a fuller skirt. The material made it seem as though she walked in slow motion. She loved it. New underwear completed the look, she wanted to be at her best, and that was when she felt most sexy.

The evening had started well. Everything was as she expected; the dresses, the lights, the magnificent setting, being introduced to everyone, the wonderful conversation, everything was just so... perfect, it was as if she was walking on air.

"Which one is Sir George? Where is the chairman?" she whispered to Toby. "I want to meet him."

"It doesn't look as if he's here," Toby answered, gazing round the room. "Don't worry, darling, you'll meet him soon."

"I certainly hope so, I can hardly wait," she said excitedly.

She so wanted to make a good impression, to help Toby. She had it all worked out. "Good evening, Sir George," she would say, gazing up into his eyes. She knew he would be taller, distinguished, with a subtle air of authority. Someone with power. Power over Toby and his job most certainly, but also power - she hardly dared think of it - power over her!

"Good evening, my dear," he would say quietly, "so nice to meet you. Such a delight," and she would feel his eyes sweep over her. She shivered as she imagined being swept onto the dance floor, his strong arms around her.

"Mrs Fiona Fortune? Madam?" a soft voice, just behind her, suddenly interrupted her reverie.

"Oh...er...sorry...yes," she turned, flustered, to see a butler, dark jacket and bow tie, startlingly white shirt, grey hair, standing quietly, a gentle smile on his face, holding a silver tray.

On the tray was a gold-edged card.

"For you, Madam."

"Oh! Th..thank you." she stuttered, taken aback. Written on one side of the card in elegant gold script was Sir George Francis, Chairman - United Electronics. On the other side in blue ink was written, in a strong masculine hand, Fiona, my dear, we haven't met. Allow me to rectify that situation. Please do me the honour of visiting my private study on the first floor, immediately.

Fiona felt a sudden tingling spark glow through her body. She glanced up and looked around the room. No one was looking, everything seemed as it was before, except she had this wonderful invitation. She had been picked out. Undoubtedly, as the wife of a new board member, the chairman wanted to make her feel welcome. It was just the chance she had wanted, an opportunity to talk to the chairman alone, a chance to impress him, a chance to push Toby's career, so many opportunities her eyes glowed in anticipation.

"Look, Toby, look what's happened." She had pulled him away from the group of men he'd been talking to, into a quieter place.

"Fiona, really," he said, annoyed, "what is it?"

"Look at this card from Sir George. I've been invited to his study. Isn't that wonderful? Now I can tell him all about us - you know, impress him. It could do you a lot of good." She spoke quickly, almost shaking in her excitement.

Toby looked at the card.

Why didn't he smile? Why was he looking at her like that? Almost as if he was worried, scared even.

"What's the matter, Darling," she said, suddenly concerned. "Aren't you pleased?"

"Well, yes, of course," he said slowly. "You will be careful, Darling. You know, don't say the wrong thing. He's very powerful, so you mustn't upset him. You know, agree with him, don't argue, do as he says." There was agitation in his voice.

"Why, of course I won't upset him. I'll be a model wife and I'm sure he'll be the perfect gentleman," she laughed.

"OK then," but his forced smile was tense, nervous and he gripped her wrist. "Just remember not to upset him, and for God's sake do exactly what he wants, exactly what he wants or it could be the end for my job!"

There was that tingly, sparky feeling again as Fiona listened to the tension in her husband's voice. Suddenly it all felt a bit dangerous. Fiona shivered as she smiled reassuringly at him.

"Don't worry, Darling, it'll be fine. Anyway I better go." and she made her way towards the large staircase.

* * *

Sir George Francis sat behind the large mahogany desk in his deep leather chair. He pulled thoughtfully on his big cigar as he studied the contents of a simple, buff-coloured file. It was the only thing on the desk.

The room was hushed. No sound from the party below intruded here. Thick drapes hung at the windows, thick carpet covered the floor. Two comfortable leather armchairs stood in front of the log fire, an old writing desk stood against one wall with a glass covered gun cupboard above it. Two shotguns shone dully from inside. There was a single light on the desk and a tall standard lamp in the corner. Dark, expensive pictures adorned the walls. It was a comfortable room, HIS room, totally masculine.

He spread the photographs from the folder on the desk in front of him.

Fiona getting out of her car showing a very nice expanse of thigh.

Fiona bending to retrieve some dropped papers, skirt stretched tightly over her pert bottom .

Fiona, caught on a summer day by a gust of wind, skirt lifted, a hint of stockings and suspenders.

Fiona, just standing in the office, high heels, short, tight, dark skirt, crisp white blouse tucked in, taut across her breasts, sensual blonde curls framing her face.

These are nice, he thought. His people had done a good job. He smiled at what she would say if she ever discovered she had attracted this kind of interest.

Sir George Francis was one of the most powerful industrialists in the country. Utterly ruthless in business matters, he had risen to the top through his own efforts and was proud of it. He drove himself to the limit at work and expected the same dedication from everyone, in particular members of the board, who he would get rid of in an instant if he felt they were not pulling their weight or offering him their total cooperation...

He didn't have much time to relax, but when he did, he liked to take an 'interest' in the wives of his employees and particularly those of his Board members. It was unwritten, of course, but there were just two qualifications for the board of United Electronics. You had to be very good at your job, and you had to have a beautiful wife.

Fiona certainly fitted the bill, he thought. Young Toby Fortune had earned his place on the board but it was Fiona who had clinched it, and now - he smiled to himself - here she was on her way, unknowingly, to seal the deal.

He gathered up the photos and replaced the file with the others in his desk drawer and locked it.

He sat back and waited.

* * *

Fiona reached the top of the stairs and walked slowly along the the thickly carpeted corridor towards the oak paneled door at the end. The noise of the party receded and she felt herself enveloped by the hushed atmosphere. The tingly,sparky feeling was becoming more pronounced and it was joined by a million butterflies that had gathered in her stomach. She felt she was walking into a dangerous situation. Sir George was, after all, a man who could ruin her life, and Toby's. He held them - her - in the palm of his hand. He could ask anything of her, do anything to her. She would simply have to obey.

She reached the heavy door, knocked timidly, and waited.

Suddenly her mind was filled with another tension packed moment like this. Waiting to enter another door. Her Headmaster's study door at Highburne House School for Girls. She had been in the sixth form, almost eighteen, attending for punishment. She hadn't meant to steal the cosmetics from the shop, something had just come over her, but no one believed that and now she was for it. She remembered the thick oak door opening, the Headmaster sitting behind his desk, the Chairman of the Board of Governors sitting in the big armchair. She remembered the utter humiliation, standing in front of them, the Chairman's eyes glittering with excitement, the Headmaster's barked instruction as he rose from his chair, cane in hand. Her throat dry as she pulled down her knickers in front of them, then bent over that large desk. Intense humiliation...and something else too!

"COME IN! I SAID COME IN!"

She heard the voice through her dreaming. It startled her. Shocked her. How long had she kept him waiting?

Hurriedly she pushed at the door, it would not open. Flustered, she twisted the handle and almost stumbled into the quiet room.

"Oh I'm so sorry, Sir George. I don't know what came over me..." she stood embarrassed and confused in front of his desk.

"There, there, my dear Fiona," he said smoothly, delighted to see her flushed face and her consternation. "Please don't fret. I'm sorry I shouted but I feared you had not heard me."

She fought to collect herself. This was not how she had planned it at all. She took several deep breaths and began to feel calmer.

He waited quietly while she composed herself, taking in the picture of her soft, blonde curls, her pretty face - all the more so, blushing pink as it was - her cool, bare shoulders, breasts pushing against the bodice of her dress, the swell of her hips, all this in one, long glance.

She was aware of his long stare, taken aback by his pugnacious appearance, not at all the film star figure she had imagined, but totally aware of the immense power contained in that one glance. She caught her breath as she felt the dampness between her legs.

"... and I expect my Directors wives to contribute to the success of the Company. Don't you think so, Fiona?"

"What? Oh I'm so sorry. I didn't quite follow..." her voice trailed off feebly. This was awful. What must he think of her? She was starting to feel wretched and guilty for letting Toby down so badly.

"Never mind, my dear. I was just saying that everyone involved with the Company had something to contribute, and that the wives had a responsibility too."

"Oh I do agree," she gushed, "everyone should play their part." She stood, helplessly, her hands by her sides. Sir George did nothing to make her feel more comfortable.

"Good. And I've asked you up here to give you my own personal welcome as a new director's wife and to get to know you a lot better," he said softly but with an authority she could hardly ignore," yes my own, very personal, welcome."

She stood staring at him, unable to find an answer.

"So, my dear, let's make a start with that, shall we? Why don't you take off that beautiful dress?"

For Sir George, this was the delicious moment. What would she do? Refuse angrily? Be shocked and scandalised? Break down in tears? What?

For Fiona, the words came almost as if she expected them. Somehow, deep down, she had known something like this was going to happen. The power of this man.

"For God's sake do exactly what he says...exactly!"

It felt as if she was moving in slow motion, her hands at the back of her dress, unzipping it,not a word of protest, her eyes fixed on his, the tingly, sparky feelings now coursing strongly through her body, the butterflies whirring round in her tummy, the blush mounting in her face.

He watched as she shrugged off the top of her dress, the straps off her shoulders, revealing the soft pink brassiere filed with her breasts. Then she pushed her thumbs into the dress at the sides and eased it over her hips and let it fall in a pool at her feet. Hands at her sides, she stood red-faced, in front of him, staring down at the carpet.

"Well done, my dear. How delightful you are. Toby is a lucky man," he said in that quiet, authoritative voice as his eyes swept over her.

Black high-heeled shoes tightening her calves, dark stockings, the tops pulled to points by her pink suspenders and contrasting violently with the whiteness of her thighs, the suspender straps disappearing into the lacy legs of her pink French knickers which clung seductively to the swell of her stomach.

"Now that didn't hurt at all. Did it?" he said in a more business-like voice.

Fiona shook her head. It hadn't hurt. In fact it had given her a real thrill but she didn't raise her head.

"Well I have a little initiation ceremony for new wives," he said sharply, "I am going to spank your bottom. Come here!"

Now she raised her head in shock.

"Oh please no, not that. I won't!" she found her voice at last, strangled and choking.

"Now I'm sure you don't need me to remind you how much your husband depends on my favour," he said, smiling without mirth, "for you must know that already."

Then she knew she had to go through with this for Toby's sake and, stepping out of the pool of her dress, she walked slowly around the desk.

Obediently she lay across his knees, her bottom posed conveniently for his hand. She felt his hand momentarily fondle each buttock, before his fingers were at the waistband of her knickers. Her face was bright red with embarrassment now but she said nothing, just raised herself slightly so that he could pull them down to her knees. She could feel the cool air on her rear cheeks as she abandoned herself to the feeling of being mastered, just as she had at school, draped across that oak desk ,the humiliation she experienced and the knowledge that a stranger would soon be staring at her most intimate and private parts. That there was nothing she could do to stop him only added to the mounting excitement within her.

Sir George stared at Fiona's bottom with great pleasure. Women's bottoms never failed to excite and delight him. He had seen many, many women in this position but each time they were a new source of pleasure. Fiona's was no exception. Taut, yet soft and amazingly resilient, her flesh pink and smooth yet covered with a soft down, hardly noticeable from his fine vantage point.

He smiled...and raised his hand.

SMACK!

It was like a pistol shot as his palm met her flesh. he felt the delicious wobble as she bucked on his knee.

SMACK!

This time on the other cheek...a second red hand print appeared. Again she jerked under the impact. Delightful!

SMACK! SMACK!

He was increasing the rhythm and her grunt was a little louder.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Each buttock in turn, now he was warming to his task. She started to kick her legs - always a great sight for a spanker to see! She tried to reach around with her hand to protect her rear, but he had too much experience to let her do that.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

His hand moved rapidly from cheek to cheek, each rapidly getting redder and redder, the warm flesh bouncing deliciously beneath his palm.

She was squealing now, it really hurt, the heat was building rapidly, she kicked up her legs,not caring what she was showing, then suddenly he stopped and she felt his hand caress her burning bottom.

He rested for a moment, his palm feeling the heat radiating from her scarlet cheeks.

Little trickles of sweat were gathering on her back and he smoothed them away with his hand... She gave something between a gasp, a snort and a moan.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

A final flourish produced anguished cries.

"Owwwww Oooooh! Please, Sir, stop! I'll do anything... anything!"

Her bottom had taken on that deep red glow, smooth and shiny under the fierce blast of his hand. The heat enveloped her, the pain in her bottom reaching every part of her, she was snorting and gasping, tears pouring down her cheeks. She felt totally mastered, humiliated, her last outburst - she really meant it - and with all this, the excitement of what was happening to her almost driving her mad with excitement.

He helped her from his knee and made her stand facing the wall opposite him, hands on her head. He watched her squirm slowly as she tried to relieve the burning sensations in her bottom.

After a few moments, he said sharply, "Go over to the writing cabinet and open the top drawer. Bring me what you find there!"

Wincing slightly she slowly did as she was asked. She opened the drawer and gasped. Wide eyed she turned towards him, the thin whippy cane in her hand.

"Oh p-p-please," she begged, " surely you're not going to...you can't...please..."

"Of course I can, and I will," he replied breezily, "the young wife's final test, eh? Come on, Fiona, I know you can take it, and you will!"

All protest abandoned, she walked over slowly and handed him the cane.

"Now take off your stockings and suspender belt," he ordered, "I want you naked for the cane."

Such was her state of mind that she hurried to obey. Completely naked now, she felt totally in his power. He could do anything he liked with her and her excitement continued to rise. It seemed right that she should be exposed to him, she made no attempt to cover herself as she bent over his desk. She allowed him to place a cushion on the edge so that she could rest her tummy on it. The heat from her bottom was penetrating between her legs and, almost unconsciously, she spread them a little way apart. She was tingling with excitement now and sighed as she bent low in acceptance.

She heard a swish and then felt the cane strike her bottom, for a split second there was nothing, then a searing pain hit her like a burning bar and she squealed aloud. He had laid the first one just across the top of her cleft, a straight scarlet line appearing as if by magic.

The second was exactly one inch below the first, the scarlet line running across both buttocks. Again she squealed and bucked, the pain tearing into her bottom.

The third and fourth, delivered in quick succession were laid in a further inch dwon to produce four exactly parallel lines of red. Each time she gave that snorting cry, wiggled her bottom, but made no attempt to rise.

He changed his position slightly and brought the final stroke down so that it crossed the others, both reawakening the pain and completing the pattern. This time Fiona kicked her legs out wide as she gasped and grunted and he had to steady her on the desk.

He watched a tiny rivulet of sweat disappear into her bottom cleft as she writhed on the desk, the heat building to almost unbearable levels. He would wait, experienced as he was, for what he knew would inevitably happen.

He smiled broadly as he inspected his 'signature' on her bottom, a dark red barred gate against a paler red background. There were two more ladies at the party downstairs who bore that mark and many others from whose bottom it had faded. It would be most noticeable on the plump bottom of Mrs Alice Cornell, the wife of his Finance Director. How she had squealed, face down across his knee, her flesh wobbling delightfully as he turned it a deep crimson. It would be fading now from the taut young bottom of Mrs Irene Fielder. It had been over a week since the wife of his Marketing Manager lay stretched across the back of the leather couch, kicking up her long legs delightfully as he 'signed' her lovely bottom.

Fiona lay face down on the desk, sobbing quietly, her breasts damply pressed against the smooth wood. The raging fire coursing through her buttocks engulfed her, yet she made no move for another intense feeling was beginning to take hold. Deep between her legs it remained, a tingling warmth and dampness that made her press her tummy against the cushion and, as it rose in intensity, she gave a soft low moan.

Sir George's keen eyes and ears noticed the subtle change and he grinned. As certain as night follows day, he thought. He walked over and gently stroked her naked bottom... As his hand gently stroked the hot, burning flesh he murmured softly, "Your husband will go a long way in this company, my dear. a very long way indeed!"

Do you think Toby knew what Fiona was in for?

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for July 27

Our topic this week was an implement that you would draw the line at. Here are your responses: 

Bonnie: I have no interest in getting involved with a single tail whip, although that lands outside my definition of spanking implements. There are some I prefer and others I am pleased to skip, but there are few hard limits.

I don't think Randy would insist if he know something was a hard limit for me.

Simon: I absolutely hate wooden spoons and don't particularly like heavy paddles. I wouldn't dare refuse to have them used on me after all it's her choice but they aren't used very often. Wooden spoons for some reason seem to have a sting far beyond what you would expect from their size. Heavy paddles thunk into your bottom and cause deep bruising which I don't enjoy.

Roz: I'm with Bonnie, whips would be a hard limit for me.

Jan: I too am with Roz, no whips for me EVER.

Abby: Refuse to try... no, I have a safe word as a protection. Master always says it is not the implement it is the person wielding it that determines how it feels.

Callie: I absolutely refuse to have anything to do with implements that look like they belong in the jail/punishment system of an Asian country. Whips, canes, floggers, etc.

H is ok with this and understands my reasons why.

morningstar: We have a HUGE wooden paddle - bought in a moment of "je ne sais quoi" madness perhaps - bought by me even!! It is a very large paddle used in industrial kitchens for stirring (I think) large pots of something or other. We bought it for 5$ I sanded it and stained it.

When W would use it, there was a pattern - 4 light hits then 1 heavy, "all you're worth" hits. Rinse, repeat.

After I was sick a few years back it seemed that any implement that rattled my insides went on the "no fly zone" list. Slowly everything has returned except for that paddle - it really does rattle my insides.

Oh and W is sort of ok with it being a hard limit now, though he does - from time to time - talk wistfully about it

Leigh: I hate the lexan paddle which I purchased. It has since disappeared.

A "friend" presented me with a cane which I have always thought would be awful. It wasn't bad, of course, it wasn't discipline either.

Oh, and I just saw Bonnie's remark - definitely no whips.

Baxter: I agree with most everyone. Whips are in the NO WAY column. I ask my wife to spank me and I prefer the more 'vanilla' implements such as the leather belt I wear to work, a wooden spoon and a paddle which is actually a weaving tool. I also prefer a wool comb, the flat side opposite the tines side. All give me what I want.

Ronnie: Our twisted wooden Loopy Johnny is the only thing in our box that I hate. It stings like a thousand bees.

The cane I said I would never want used but that was a long time ago and happily P changed my mind about it.

Minelle: I'd definitely never want a cane or a whip! I really prefer his hand. The paddle is hard unless wielded mildly!

Annapurna: With the exception of the whip, just about any implement would be okay. The force behind the impact is what matters most to me. Various implements do offer different sensations. I would include the whip as well if it could be expertly controlled so as to minimize any unwanted damage.

Dragon's Rose: A single tail in the right hands is heaven. Not a hard limit but I need a demonstration of competence before I let it touch my skin.

The loopy Johnny is my hard limit. WOWCHY! Even used lightly, I still call RED!

Prefectdt: I really get psychologically freaked by anything made of metal. Not that I totally refuse to have it used on me but I have to seriously trust the person using it a lot, to agree to play with metal impact toys.

Sir Wendel: I wouldn’t go for the Loopy Johnny or single tailed whip. Maybe I am old fashioned but I don’t venture too far from the paddle, belt or cane.

Arched one: So far we have tried many implements, some we don't have lexan paddle, loopy johnny and a few others. The whip we have I made for her and love the feel. Have not tried a cane yet and would love to feel it being used. So far we don't have anything on the "no fly list". Maybe in time we will find something we don't care for but for now let's try it all.

Hermione: Out of all our implements, I hate the dressage whip the most. Two weeks ago,  I walked into the bedroom to find our three most severe implements - dressage whip, wooden shoehorn and lexan carpet beater - laid out side by side. The look of utter dismay on my face made Ron roar with laughter. He assured me he was only teasing, handed me the terrible trio, and told me to put them back and choose three others. I did so with pleasure!

Thank you all for contributing, and have a pleasant week!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 # 30

The weekend has rolled around once more, and that means it's time for another brunch discussion.

What implement do you absolutely hate or refuse to try? Is it one you have already experienced, or something you simply would not consider? Would you change your mind if your partner insisted?

Leave your response as a comment, and I will publish a summary of our discussion once everyone has had a chance to join in.

You Completed the Caption

You explained this mysterious scene so well!

Six of the best: "I would love to pull down her bloomers and spank her," said one of the men to the other.

Katie: She had them fooled. She knew that they were talking about her, and cleverly ignored them. Of course, her mind was really on her burning bottom. Oh she had been a naughty one last night! As always, love of her life did something about it.

Roxanne: "You need to spank her," said the older, more experienced captain. "It is the only way to keep your wife's mind on you while we are whaling."

Welcome, Roxanne!

Minelle: "You say she is giving you the silent treatment? Spank her, that will end the snotty attitude!"

Ronnie: Oh, if only I was 30 years younger, said the older man to the other.

Leigh: "Of course, you should spank her. Look how she's ignoring you."

Simon: "She's not going to be happy when she uses those trick binoculars and has two black eyes."

Ricky: Mmmm?
Mmmm!
She: My boyfriend's back and you're going to be in trouble!

js666: There goes my daughter, spying on the neighbors again. I have no idea how to stop her. I'm at my wits' end. Do you have any suggestions?

Welcome, js666!

Sir Wendel: Give it up, Captain Ahab. Ya got a better chance of catching that whale. Even the winds of a hurricane ain’t gonna blow that skirt up.

Mandy: She peered through the crowded street, looking for her naughty husband. Unbeknownst to her, the old man was really her husband!

Welcome, Mandy!

 A. Lurker: Soon they would all set sail with Captain Morgan . . . but they would never leave dry land!

Vfrat25000: Should I go with the “I saved the entire crew during a hurricane” story or the “I repelled a band of pirates armed with nothing but a club and a knife?”
You and I both know we get seasick standing on a floating dock. I think the hurricane story will win her over!

The Lady: This is ridiculous. Its 90 degrees, 95% humidity and no breeze and I’m strolling around this fricken dock dressed like Mary Poppins. I call BS. I’m inventing the bikini!

It’s July 2014 and we are in the Hamptons. Why are the three of us dressed like its 1900?
Danged if I know!

That’s Captain Bligh’s daughter. Do you think he’s forgotten about that whole “Mutiny on the Bounty” thing?
I hear he is still really pissed off!
Figures. Oh well, let’s go to One Arm Mike’s Bar and see if any morally casual ladies have gathered.

We have been at sea so danged long. Please tell me that is a real woman. If it’s not I’m in big trouble.
Captain, that is a REAL 100% Woman
Sailor, let me introduce you to my next Ex-wife!

WOW! What a lady!
She is the Captain of that gosh awful pink racing yacht with the all girl crew, The Easter Bonnet. I hear that lady runs a tight ship. Any of her crew gets out of line and they eat standing up for a couple of days.
Really? No kidding. I think I’ll join that crew. I need to shave my legs. Where did I put that long red hair wig? I think I will go with those Capri pants. I have so many things to do before we sail.
Jim, I’ll leave you and your feminine side alone now and I am going to go watch some pay per view porn, get commode-hugging drunk and wake up in an alley someplace. Hopefully I will no longer have a mental image of you on that pink boat wearing a pair of Capri’s.

Hermione: Ralph, I swear that lady is a bum looker, same as us.


And there you have it. But wait! There's more fun to be had at brunch, coming up next. Please stay for some good food and stimulating conversation.

Friday FAIL

Let's have some fun in the supermarket today.

Before you leave, please scroll down or click on this link to Complete the Caption.

Complete the Caption

A woman watches intently, taking no notice of he men behind her. What is she looking at that makes her oblivious to those around her? What are the men discussing?

It's up to you. Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your suspicions in an upcoming post.

From the Top Shelf - Chairs

This informative article, written by D.H. for Februs magazine 18 years ago, is intended for tops or spankers. But those of you on the receiving end of a spanking may also find it interesting. I, for one, always enjoy getting some insight into the way a top's mind works.

Chairs are for sitting on, I know, but there is no doubt that if you are sitting on an armless chair, then there should be, spread across your knees, some bare-bottomed supplicant who has well deserved the spanking you are about to deliver. She may not think she has deserved it, but, nevertheless that is why she will be there and why you are sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the room so that there is ample room for kicking legs and flailing arms.

Even in so simple a matter as a childish spanking over the knees, though, there are finer points to consider. Should she be stripped completely before you pull her over your lap? Should she simply have to pull her knickers down and, if so, should she do this herself or would you prefer to attend to this task? Should she be made to lie across your knee of her own accord? Should she have to stand between your legs before being laid over one thigh - which enables you to hold her legs down with the other one - or should she be laid across both thighs so that her legs splay nicely apart as the spanking proceeds? In this case, you can hook the side of your foot over her outer ankle so as to give firmer support as matters proceed. Should you cross your knees before bending her over them? If so, then her legs should be parted... her buttocks opened wide into the bargain...

I have, myself, a preference for punishment given in this particular way, naked bottom under my hand, my other hand worked round and under her waist to keep her tightly to me. It is sometimes fun, though, to have her sitting on your lap, with her back to you, her legs astride yours so she is open to every movement of your hands however deeply the fingers thrust - and then to force her forward so that her bottom lies widely open to a hand that reddens each cheek with short, hard strokes while the other works gently under her once more, holding her firmly in position...

There are other sorts of chair that can be used, to place a girl in more elegantly shaming postures, even if she is not so closely confined, and some of those possibilities are worth more consideration.

The armchair is often to hand, and the temptation is simply to force her over its back, sweeping the skirt up over her back, taking the knickers down and off to leave her bottom curved tightly to receive hand, hairbrush or even a swift cane. She will be able to hide her face in the depths of the chair as you bring tears to her eyes, and receive you gratefully as you work into her from behind when the punishment has finished and her tears are turning to gasps of excitement.

There is, however, a more entertaining posture she can be led into, less comfortable in itself... Her jeans or skirt have to be taken off to start with, and then her knickers similarly removed. Some preliminary caresses are allowable at this stage, but with the warning that tears will follow however much you love her, that her bottom will be etched with the marks of your cane, marks that you will kiss when they have reddened into weals, marks that she will be able to relish for evenings to come as she prepares for bed.

The chair should have padded arms and come well forward, for it is on these that she is to kneel, with her knees halfway along them so that she can bend forward and down, tucking the back of her head against the back of the chair, down and down until the top of her head is against the seat, and her arms free to clasp around its back.

Six or twelve strokes of the cane will be enough to have her begging for an alternative tactile contact, and, her bottom being so tightly offered, you will have no doubt as to how it would be exciting to take her.

If the armchair has a sloping back, then a cushion may be placed into its angle, and your partner slid forward, to its front so that her skirt (if you have not made her take it off) is high around her waist. Lifting her legs you can remove her knickers (if, of course, she is still wearing any) and bring her knees back against her stomach, so that she can hold her legs down. Here is the softest part of her drawn tight for your hand or strap or, if the punishment needs to be severe, your cane.

While talking of armchairs, we may detour the room a little to put the sofa into use. The most obvious method is to have her kneeling at one end, bottom over the arm, hands on the floor, raising her cheeks nicely to the strap, head lower than the knees.

Kitchen chairs make another style of chevalet. One I saw the other day in one of those shops that are never undersold, had a seat high off the ground, with an open steel back and an open foot rest at the front. Here it will be necessary to strip the penitent completely before having her stand facing the chair, then making her bend down so as to slip head and shoulders through the open back; tummy resting on the seat; her feet tucked inside the foot rest. Uneasily balanced, her buttocks will be tidily offered to cane or strap, and the lower lips readily available for consoling caresses when the pain becomes excessive.

The bar stool serves more easily, for wrists and ankles go to each corner, and the bottom is presented to perfection, tightly stretched for the cane and wide open to kisses and caresses while the punishment is in progress...

So punishing your lady in a variety of positions does not need an outlay of expense. Most of the equipment is already there, in your own home. Use it wisely!

From now on I will look upon our kitchen chairs with new respect.

Bonnie is Back!

Six years ago, our dear friend Bonnie introduced my brand new blog to the world, and now it's time for me to return the favour.

Bonnie has a brand spanking new blog called A Spanko Garden. I know you'll want to drop by, have a look at her new home, and welcome her back.

Just couldn't stay away, huh?

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #29

Greetings, fellow spanking enthusiasts, and welcome to another weekend brunch. Today's topic was inspired by a scene from season two of Boardwalk Empire, in which the mayor of Atlantic City is treated to his favourite fantasy as a birthday treat. (Yes, it involved spanking.)

Have you ever had a fantasy come true? Were you instrumental in making it happen, or did your partner see to it that your fantasy would become reality? 

As usual, please leave your reply as a comment, and I will post an edited summary of our discussion on Monday.

You Completed the Caption

You had some amusing things to say about fishing, and here they are:


DelFonte: Now, remember, if you don't catch anything, that rod will be put to good use.

Ronnie: Don't worry darling when I've finished fishing I'll show you another use for the rod.

Six of the best: "She is fishing for a swishing."

Rollin: There is a hunky Navy Seal down there and I'm going to catch him -- one way or another.

Prefectdt: The strip fishing competition was not going to well for Jenny.

All hers: Bring that large umbrella over here and hold it over me while I fish. I am getting too much sun.

A. Lurker: Hey handsome, is that another fishing rod or are you just happy to see me?

Marina decided to ditch the clownfish in favour of a barracuda.

Mandy: Sara was part of the Fisho-Spanko clan in which common practice was to fish then be spanked with the rod. I hear a National Geographic special, don't you?

Measha: Topless Fishing this Friday! *bottoms optional*

Mitch: There is more than one way to bait a line. I always reel in what I'm fishing for.

Anon: Whatever made you think I'm going for fish?

Ricky: Now here is a very healthy minded young lady who obviously believes in fresh air ever(y)wear.

Hermione: I set all the worms free. Don't you think I deserve a spanking?


Now that we've all enjoyed some fresh air fun, I hope you will stay for brunch and join in what promises to be an interesting discussion.

Friday FAIL

I was going through my ever-growing collection of FAIL photos yesterday, and assigning the pictures to categories. These were filed under "Butt". I hope you enjoy them!

What a clever bottom!

 The shark is obviously a butt man.

Bum looker!

Tell it like it is!

I can't imagine buying this product, but then, I don't need it.

I saved the best for last. A little over-exposure is always funny, except for the victim.

Happy Friday! Don't forget to Complete the Caption.

Complete the Caption

Canada is fortunate to have many lakes with clean water and plenty of aquatic life. Fishing is a popular summertime activity, and this young woman seems to be enjoying herself. I hope she is wearing sunblock, or  has some other way of preventing all that exposed skin from turning bright red.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your suggestions in an upcoming post.

Come Spank with Me Again

I first told you about a kinky dining episode of the television show Come Dine with Me Canada here.

Last week I watched the five episodes for a recent competition that took place in the beautiful city of Niagara, home of the world-famous Horseshoe Falls. The five contestants - three women and two men - each hosted a dinner party for the others, and at the end of each evening the four guests scored the host on a scale of one to ten. At the end of the week, the winner received $1000.

One of the five contestants, Judy, a prison guard, ("I keep the bad boys in line") was decidedly kinky. We found that out on night one at Karen's dinner party.

During the obligatory scene where the four guests snooped through the host's house, George and Maria were examining a photo album of Karen and multiple boyfriends. We were shown a close-up of Karen next to a horse. Then there was a cut to the basement, where Judy and Dominic discovered Karen's equestrian gear. Judy sat astride the saddle and Dominic smacked her bottom with a riding crop.

"Yee haw! Giddy up, Judy," shrieked Dominic.

The narrator interrupted with "Stop spanking her."

"That's kind of nice," Judy told Dominic. "If I had one of these I'd be riding it every night. Giddy up!"

I assume that was her way of telling Dominic to continue with the spanking. The camera returned to the dining room so we'll never know.

On night three, at George's house, we were treated to the sight of Judy, Karen and George sitting squashed together on a couch. They encouraged Maria to join them, and she did, by lying across the laps of the other three. Judy proceeded to spank her, and the other two followed suit.

"She was a naughty girl and she needed a spank on the ass," Judy explained to the camera.

The next day it was Judy's turn to be the host. In the kitchen, we watched as she prepared her "Better than Sex" cake. It was only a white cake with vanilla instant pudding mix and canned pineapple. Bleah! Judy held up a giant spatula. "This is an ass spanker, is what this is," as she smacked it loudly against her palm with an evil cackle.

After dinner the subject of Judy's occupation was raised. Two of the guests - George and Karen - playfully pummeled each other as they sat side by side. "Show us how you would break this up," suggested George.  Judy pulled them apart and pushed Karen to the floor. As Karen turned to get up, Judy slapped her bottom.

Finally, when Judy announced some after dinner entertainment, Dominic told the camera that he "thought it would involve whipping or some sort of bondage". Sadly, it was only a lame magic act.

Judy didn't win the $1000 but she clearly provided the best entertainment for me.

Hello from Daisy

Some of you may remember Daisy, a blogger who was very active between 2009 and 2012. She and her husband, Davey, have a long-distance DD relationship. Daisy lives in England while Davey is a resident of the US, and until now they have only been able to be together for a brief period each year. Her blog, Daisychain, has not been updated in nine months, and I have been wondering how she and Davey were doing. Last weekend, Daisy left a long comment at our spanko brunch, and I didn't want anyone who knows her to miss it. Here it is:

Hi Hermione,

It has been a long time since I have had a chance to visit the blogs, but I can no longer get on to my own, so it seems it will just hang around in cyberspace forever! The email address it was registered in has long since retired, and I never did understand the blogs after Blogger "updated" the way they performed!

Davey and I, now married 6 years, are still living on separate continents, so spanking obviously does not happen any more. Despite all my efforts to find work with a salary large enough to enable us to be together, I have been unsuccessful until now. I have just accepted a job with a salary which just qualifies us to apply, however it does not start until September, and I will then be working 5 days a week, 15 hours a day but this means that once I can provide 6 months of wage slips, Davey will finally be able to apply for a visa to live with me.

And so I finally manage to access the blogs to find that Bonnie has retired, very sad; but I am so glad that others I know and love, such as yourself, and Ronnie, and others, are still around. I think of you all so often, but just do not have the time any more to browse online.

Hugs to you all,
Daisy and Davey xxxxxx 

Daisy, I hope you see this post. It's lovely to hear from you again! I'm sorry you can't update your blog any more. You can still log on to Blogger with your Yahoo email address, even though it is no longer active, as long as you remember the password.  I hope you will try that.

September isn't very far off, and if you are working 15 hours a day,  those six months will fly by until you and Davey can apply for his visa. Please keep us posted on how you are getting on.LEave a comment, or email me so I'll have your new address.


All the best to you and Davey.
Hugs,
Hermione

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for July 13

Our topic this week was introducing variety into spanking.

Six of the best: Hermione, when a lady friend of mine, who I spank on a regular basis, visits me, She makes sure she wears a variety of outfits, both outer, and inner (lingerie), that pleases me sexually, when I remove them to get to her bare bottom. Of course, this variety includes various garter-belts and stockings. Also we very our spanking scenes.

Abby: Depends on the spanking. Maintenance is pretty much the same...small, but mighty, wooden paddle, after a hand warm up. Intensity depends on my past week...and His mood.
Other spankings vary in positions used and what toys are used. We have used role play, but not in a while. We have a dice game...which adds a touch of the unknown. Master has been spanking me for over 10 years...neither one of us is bored...yet.

Dragon's Rose: Spankings don't happen that often anymore. We are busy with a house full of teenagers and tired when we have the time.


Ricky: As a DOM, looking for any (silly) signs of "I don't get no respect!" e.g., "The coffee's too hot (or too cold)."
As a sub, looking for any way to be a brat; e.g., making a (silly) scene in a public place where you know you are safe, until later, of course.

Arched one: This answer takes a little time.

We have several implements and most of them are used in each session. What does change is room and positions. Also the conversation changes with each spanking depending on if I'm being punished, getting maintenance or spanked just because she feels like it. Punishment I must stand before her nude while she tells me why I'm about to get punishment with me answering in full agreement telling her I deserve it and ask that she properly spank me.

Maintenance is more along the lines of why am I getting this, how do I feel about it and me usually asking her to please spank me. Just because spanking she will tell me how she feels about spanking me and what she sees and my reactions to being spanked, and me telling her why I love for her to give me just because spanking. So our conversation changes quite a bit.

Anon: Variety and uncertainty. Why not make sets of cards. She draws at random, one from each. First decides the implement, from hand to cane. Next the number of spanks, 1 to say 100. What she will be required to dress in;Then on what: bare bottom , various types of undies or outer clothing; now position to be adopted - this could be extensive, but also added to, and also whether she is to be restrained, or gagged; and finally what other pleasures she will have to provide after her spanking is over.

This could provide endless variations, with chance of repetition.

Sunny Girl: It doesn't happen often enough to get bored. We do have a dice game and try to vary things up though.

Ronnie: Our spanking vary in position depending on implement used. P's been spanking me for quite sometime and thankfully he's not bored with it and I'm definitely not though I'd be happy with more spankings.


Pecan Nutjob: With children in our home, the big change was to have to plan / postpone our games, and also to adopt more discreet implements (no more big smacks with the hand or paddle, more martinet...).

This brought a mixture of dullness/predictiveness (since we know in advance when we can play, according to our children's schedule) and surprise (when by chance we can play).

For instance, my wife may spring on me that I've been naughty lately, spank me soundly in the living room then f**k me "woman on top" on the rug - when she finds a time when she does not risk a child walking in...

Otherwise, we're pretty conservative people. We like it "traditional" - often over the knee, with some "family-style" implement or the hand. In the beginning we experimented various positions, items, etc. but now less so.

My favorite "unusual" remembrance of spanking is one I gave my wife in a deserted campground in a US national park. Not that the spanking itself was unusual (it was a strong hand spanking over the knee, pants and panties down) but it gave us a thrill to see her derriere exposed this way. My wife contends that I also once got an interesting spanking on the bare when hiking at dusk...

We still have some untried fantasies, for instance birching, and period costumes (my wife would like to try with a dress, petticoats and no underwear, as was the custom some centuries ago). These pose feasibility and consistency issues: we would not like to do something too tacky or kitsch.

We have also some fantasies about bringing some other woman in, but this poses so many questions and difficulties that we have not even thought on how to try it.

Hermione: Our spankings tend to be pretty predictable; they happen at a regular day and time, using the same position, and they usually last about the same length of time. The implements always vary from week to week, and that's what I look forward to with a mixture of anticipation and dread. What has he chosen this time? You have given me some great ideas for adding variety to our OTK activities.

I have a very special message for you coming up next. Don't miss it!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #28

Welcome back, one and all. It's great to see friends, old and new, gather here regularly for a spanking discussion. Regular schedules and predictable events are an important part of life. But can there be too much of a good thing?

Do your spankings seem like the same old, same old? Are they usually pretty much the same each time? What are your suggestions for adding some variety to your activity?

Leave your response as a comment, and once everyone has had a chance to speak, I will publish a summary of our discussion.

You Completed the Caption

What is this elegant grand dame up to? You had some creative ideas:

Six of the best: This very sophisticated lady says, "Tonight a gentleman of the realm, will bare my bottom. so that I can taste the painful twigs of a birch rod, that I grow in my garden."

Arched one: Tonight after I take this dress off, you will bare your bottom and lay across my lap for a well deserved spanking.

DelFonte: He stared at her defiant face. Somewhere under her dress was her bottom. Finding it might prove a challenge.

Rollin: There's enough room under this dress to hide a basketball team. So go to it, boys.

Sunny Girl: She's thinking he'll never get to my bare bottom with all these hoops and crinolines.

Mandy: The fancy dresses she designed were to hide her bottom from getting spanked. After months of designing this one was it.

Ronnie: Lord Ashley will be in for a surprise when he sees what I have under my dress.

Jon: "I just love my new cutty sark."

[Note: A 'cutty sark' is, as Robert Burns taught us all, a shortened woman's underskirt. Apparently his poem led to the scantily clad topless figurehead on the clipper ship of the same name, or perhaps the reverse.
I'd be pleased to do some field research to see just how short the Lady's underskirt is. I wonder: did she crop it so short herself or did her Lord have her (or her lady's maid) do it? And why is the gardener still under that skirt.
There is definitely more to this picture.]

Jon, that's useful information. Please continue with your research.

Vfrat25000: Guard, come here please.
Yes, your highness.
I have a rather nasty mosquito bite on my bottom that itches like fire. I can’t reach it in this dress. Please employ one of the town peasants to crawl under there and scratch it for me.
Certainly, your Highness (Under his breath as he walks away “Join the palace staff it will be one glorious assignment after another, yeah right!”)

Betty made a bet with her husband that she lost. She would now have to perform a pole dance for her husband’s buddies. Her husband let her pick her own costume, a decision he would regret!

Lady Marmalade took control of the castle and ultimately the Kingdom after she secretly brought an entire regiment of soldiers inside the castle walls utilizing the “Trojan Dress” maneuver.

Look, Frank, there is one of those Walmartians.

Trick or Treat! This is a 500 dollar costume and took me two hours to put on. You better not pass out any that cheap candy!

How do you stand wearing that gosh-awful dress?
No problem. I have a pair of Daisy Dukes on underneath.

Baxter: Oh dearest man, under all these clothes you will find I am not wearing any panties, which will allow you instant access to my bottom, which you know is very naughty. Please spank me.

Minelle: I think she's smiling because under the skirt she is without any underclothing.

Annapurna: OMG, I'm wearing a circus tent!

A. Lurker: Lord Fauntleroy liked his Lady to wear dresses because they allowed easy access to her nether regions.

(Apologies to Roy Orbison)
Pretty woman, looking very sweet
Pretty woman, the kind I like to beat
Pretty woman, I want to spank you and that’s the truth
Cane marks would look so good on you, no mercy!

Pretty woman, bare your bum for me
Pretty woman, get over my knee
Pretty woman, you’ll be red as red can be!
Are you going to behave for me?

Pretty woman, your butt I’ll fry
Pretty woman, I’ll make you cry
Pretty woman, don't squirm away, hey, no way!

Monica Alyssa woke up in a horrid mood, her bottom still throbbing painfully from the previous evening’s birching. Monica had been teasing her sister, Mona, unmercifully all that day so, as punishment, not only was Monica thoroughly birched, but Mona had been allowed to watch. Monica Alyssa knew that every time she ran into her sister over the next few days, Mona would be smiling that stupid smile of hers.

The timing could not have been worse! Today was the day that the artist, Leonardo, had been commissioned to do the family portraits. “What a pompous, insufferable man,” thought Monica Alyssa. “Someone would think he was famous.” There was no way Monica could pose perfectly still on her sore bottom for several hours. Then she had a brilliant idea! “If I wear my best dress, the one with 3 hoops and 5 crinolines, then nothing will touch my tender behind and no one will know I am not wearing drawers. Not only that, I won’t even be able to sit down and will have to pose standing up.”

It took Monica so long to get dressed that when she finally came down to the drawing room the artist was well along painting her sister’s portrait. Monica walked into the room just as Leonardo was putting the finishing touches on Mona’s face. Upon seeing her sister, Monica Alyssa, and remembering the events of the previous evening, Mona Lisa broke into an insipid little grin.

And that, folks, is why the Mona Lisa is smiling!


At last, one of the art world's great mysteries has been solved, and you read it here first!


Ricky: Oh, thank you, Leo, for letting me scratch.

Dr. Ken: "He can threaten all he likes! By the time he removes enough clothing to get to my bare bottom, he'll be too exhausted to spank me!"

Hermione: Little did her husband realize that beneath her voluminous skirts, Eleanor had concealed a birch rod, three paddles and two canes, all destined to become intimately acquainted with his bared bottom.

Thank you all for participating, and I hope you will all stay for brunch. the buffet opens in a few hours.