Spanko Brunch 2.0 #35

Welcome to another weekend brunch, where we gather for good food and good conversation about spanking. We all enjoy it and do it - spanking, I mean. But why?

Are your spankings for erotic enjoyment, for stress relief, for discipline, or for some other reason? 

Please leave your reply as a comment and I will publish a summary of our discussion at the end of the long weekend.

You Completed the Caption

This photo proved to be quite an inspiration to many of you:


Six of the best: "This female's bare bottom wets my appetite for giving her a good spanking," said the gentleman with a smile on his face.

Arched one: Such a beautiful spankable bottom. I wonder if she would mind a little spanking.

Leigh: If I take a bite will she think it's a fish or some sea monster?

Ronnie: She said she was spanked but I can't any evidence.

Simon: Later CGI would be used to change Steve the best boy into a ferocious shark in Jaws 6: Bite Me.

Nina: Where did those bubbles come from?!

Jimisim: Just the place to park my nose!

Rollin: duh-dut...Duh-Dut...DUH-DUT!

Sir Wendel: Sally ignored the posted warning signs and went into the Spank Shark invested waters.

(Dramatic Pause)

She got what she deserved.

Belmont Stephen: When her mother sees how scantily she is dressed, she'll use the hairbrush - her bottom cheeks are already bare, and wet, so she'll REALLY feel it. OW! OW! NO PLEASE! OW!

Welcome, Belmont!

Michael: The predator eyes its succulent prey.
He has her scent in his nose.
He lines up for his final charge.
A surprise, but sexy, ass bite is imminent.
As commenter Rollin has already referred to:
Cue the "Jaws" music.

Ricky: Oooh, I think I hurt myself!

Dr. Ken: "When what to my wondering eyes should appear..."

Hermione: Brigid didn't think anyone would know she hadn't waited one hour after eating before going for a swim.  She was wrong, and would suffer the consequences.


For more spanko talk, please join me for brunch, coming up next.

Friday FAIL

This week it's back to my favourite subject, with some typos seen in the wild.

Incontinence is unpleasant even when the printer is working

That makes me sad

That could cause a hairball

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

I really miss Clippy. Don't you?

Want more fun? Complete the Caption today!

Complete the Caption

Summer is nearly over, but we've had some very hot weather this week, and people are flocking to the beaches to enjoy the water, sun and fresh air. But there are dangers hidden in the welcoming waves.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your warnings once everyone has contributed.

More Questions

Meredith over at New Twist After All These Years  came up with a fun list of questions. Not 92, thank goodness! I thought they were pretty interesting so I've posted them below with my answers. Please feel free to use them on your blog, and if you like, answer the last one as a comment here.


Do your eyes light up when he comes to you? Like a deer in the headlights.

What sports do you watch together? None. On Sunday, he watches football upstairs and I watched PVR'd shows downstairs.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how important is lingerie when it usually ends up on the floor? 3

Do you watch Netflix's House of Cards? We've seen season 1 on DVDs from the library. We have also seen the original version on BBC starring Ian Richardson. This week we are watching seasons 1 and 2 of Enlightened with Laura Dern. It's excellent!

What outdoor activity do you do together? Walking and gardening

What is his dream vacation? Travelling to Prince Edward Island

What is your dream vacation? Visiting Britain

What is your favorite book of all time? I've just finished reading a biography of Alf Wight, the author who wrote under the pen name James Herriot, so I'd have to say that All Creatures Great and Small and subsequent books are high on my list of favourites.

What was your last argument about? I can't remember. We never argue; I just say "Yes, Sir".

Are there any words you use that he does not like? He would not be pleased if I told him to f*** off.

Do you have any restrictions about internet time? Ron gets upset if I'm on too long, so I restrict my time to two hours before breakfast (I'm up early with the dogs) and a quick look after lunch.

Do you have a phobia? Spiders. We have giant garden spiders in the fall that build huge webs all around the house. I have to be careful when I open the door in the morning not to walk into them.

When do you melt into his arms? When he slaps my bottom

Are you watching Outlander? It just started last Sunday and it's programmed into the PVR, but I haven't watched it yet. I didn't care for the book but am anxious to see how they do the spanking scenes.

Does your HoH have a motto? "It's time"

What is your question for me?

From the Top Shelf - Getting Away

"Getting Away" is a story by Lay Lawrence, from a spanking compendium by Lawrence and E. Edmund Debarquet called So Spank Me. It has more elements of BDSM and sexual activity than most stories I post here, and I have had to edit some of the more offensive (to me, anyway) language and remove some overly graphic passages. Not to worry; there's still plenty left to titillate.

The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. No one followed so I pressed the button for the fourth floor. The moment the steel doors closed, you smiled. Swiftly, remarkably deftly, you unbuttoned my top to reveal my naked breasts. The elevator pinged as we reached our destination. You posed a question.

"Do you think there will be someone there?"

I replied with utter certainty. "Yes."

The doors opened and we stepped out into a narrow, windowless hall where an East Indian maid clattered a cart load of cleaning necessities, barring our way with mundane unconcern. Smartly wrapping my top across my chest, I stifled a giggle and squeezed past the woman whose life did not, would not, could never involve clandestine sadomasochistic liaisons in drab inner city hotels.

I like to be beaten with a riding crop.

You used the plastic key card to open the final door, the door to all earthly delights and unsuitable, improbable passions.

I like to be slapped with the palm of your hand.

We started doing this last Halloween, after several months of virtual correspondence, courting one another on the world wide web. I sent you web cam snapshots... I named you my Satyr. When you took your son to Florida, I sent you my panties care of your hotel. Silk boxers rewarded my gift of musky lace...

We sat down on the nubbly couch and I squirmed onto your lap, letting my shirt fall open again, my big soft tits hanging loose. I wasn't wearing panties and my thin skintight leggings were little barrier to feeling the hardness in your crotch. I live to make you hard. I sat on your knee and put my arms about your neck.

"Shall I give you a lap dance, sir?"

"Why not?"

You're always so restrained, a little reserved, as if you're holding something back. I like that. Slowly, sensuously, I began to grind my pussy against the steadily swelling bulge in your crotch.

"You're getting hard, sir!"

I giggled and threw my head back, arching my spine, thrusting my wobbling breasts towards your chest. You sat, quite impassive, like a real guy in a gentlemen's club, who knows that he can enjoy the view but should not touch the merchandise. Your cock was a hard, fat cylinder between my spandexed thighs. I stroked his length with my mound of Venus, giving him a firm massage.

"Am I a naughty girl, sir?"

You did not reply but smiled enigmatically. Teasingly, I slipped my cotton shirt down to reveal my soft white shoulders. I turned my head to one side, letting my hair fall in a gentle wave, glinting auburn and gold in the bright summer light. Still, you did not move, nor touch me, nor speak. I wondered what it took to drive you wild. I increased the pace of my dance, tossed the shirt on the floor and pressed my boobs against your face. Your hard dark stubble felt sharp on the delicate flesh... Almost lazily, you took one nipple into your mouth and sucked... Moaning softly, I pushed my fingers through your hair as you suckled on me, fully immersed in the hot velvet of your tongue. Then the tip of one finger found my anus and I cried out.

"Oh, please… Please…"

You know how to torment a girl.

"Take off your leggings and sit on that desk."

I looked questioningly into your eyes. You merely nodded at the desk. Slowly, I eased myself off your lap, then self-consciously peeled off the black spandex pants that clung to the wet place between my legs. No panties. Naked. My raunchy striptease bravado dissolved as I stood before you on the rug. You crossed your legs and folded your arms across your chest.

"What did I just tell you to do?"

"Oh. Sit on the desk."

"Then do it."

"Yes, sir."

My face was flushed as I pushed aside the large 'phone book and settled myself on the leather trimmed blotting pad. The long, fine net curtains blew gently in the breeze and I shivered, suddenly almost cold. My nipples, already swollen from your attentions, firmed a little more. You placed one hand under your chin, as if thinking hard.

"I want you to think about punishment, Jay. In a few minutes, I am going to take off my belt and strap your bare bottom until you cry. Until I do so, you will sit quietly and think about what is coming to you. And when I have finished, I'm going to parade you on the balcony for all to see. Think about that too."

I could not look at you. My heart was beating so fast and so hard that my breasts shook slightly with the pulsing rhythm. My hands were on my thighs, palms turned downwards, moistening rapidly... There was a radio alarm clock on the bedside table and I watched the red numbers slowly change. The room was quiet but for the distant hum of traffic, the city sounds. My mouth was dry and I thought of the wine I had brought, your favorite, a dry French red.

"Right."

My heart leapt as I heard you unbuckle your belt and slide it slowly through the loops of your pants. Although I did not watch, I knew you were doubling it. You crossed the room, grasped my ankles in one large hand. Suddenly, I lay on my back on the large flat desk, my legs held high like a snared hare in a hunter's cache. You towered over me, huge, invincible and I closed my eyes, my whole body quivering at the prospect of the strap.

"Are you a tease, Jay?"

Your voice was distant and cold. My stomach seemed to turn to water and I could not speak.

"A naughty girl?"

I gasped as your fingers probed my pussy, then my ass.

"How many men have you been with?"

I groaned as you withdrew your hand from my crotch and slapped me hard across one trembling buttock.

"I'll show you what I do with naughty girls."

There was a brief, terrifying pause, then I heard you grunt and the belt hit the backs of my thighs with a resounding crack. I cried out in pain and tried to evade the next stroke but you simply held my ankles in a tighter grasp, raising my bottom up into the air, legs over my head. Each time you whipped me with the strap, I screamed, my entire body jolting with the cutting lash which felt hot and sharp and heavy all at once.

"Oh, please, sir!"

You're so much stronger than I am, there was no way I could wriggle out of your steely grip. Up went my legs, pink and bare and plump, exposing my rapidly reddening buttocks to the searing caress of your belt. I know you like it when I try to struggle. You'd hate to have a passive sub. Like me, you enjoy a bit of a fight, a tussle, but your sheer dimensions put me at a physical disadvantage. Helplessly, I beat the palms of my hands against the sides of the desk, savoring the thrill of being caught. I'm the kind of girl who loves a rape fantasy and you love to oblige.

"Your pussy is dripping."

I didn't remove all of my pubic hair, as you don't care for that nude, prepubescent look, but I took off as much as I could. My pubis was round, pink, plump, smooth, with just a dusting of fine golden curls. My syrupy cleft was open to you... like ripening fruit. I wriggled my bottom and gasped at the sharpness of your heavy leather belt. After a time, you paused and smiled.

"You should see your ass. It's scarlet."

I looked up at you, looming over me with implement in hand. You like to whip me in the supine position so you can see the pained expressions on my face. You enjoy the blushing, the grimaces, the occasional tears. You also like to have full access to me.

"Yes, let's take a good look at that stinging rear."

You're very much into humiliation. Slowly, a little shakily, I clambered down from the desk and you walked me to a nearby door. Beyond the billowing net curtain, there was a balcony, overlooked by other hotels and apartment buildings. You looked down at me and grinned. You were clothed, in cotton pants and a long sleeved shirt. I was naked.

"First, look in the mirror, Jay."

There was a full-length looking glass on the wall and I stared at the white skinned creature with the burning face. Embarrassed, I tried to avert my gaze but you placed your hands on either side of my head and made me look. Then you turned me around, so my rear faced the mirror.

"Bend forward and look between your legs."

I did as I was instructed, clasping my ankles, seeing a vista of crimson buttocks. You say I have a lovely bottom, like one of Rubens' less corpulent models. It looked rather plump from my lowly viewpoint but deliciously chastised. It throbbed rhythmically, stung with the divine needling of a dozen hornets, felt as centrally heated as if two little furnaces belched out their fire just above my thighs. Mmm.

"Now, let's exhibit you to the populace."

I groaned, inwardly. I haven't quite decided if I'm an exhibitionist or not. I can see the attraction but, well, I maintain a modest side. Really.

You pushed me out onto the balcony, a little cool and breezy on a west coast summer afternoon. I could feel the fine sea mist drifting in from English Bay. Above me, to the left, was a tall hotel, its many windows a hundred voyeuristic eyes all focused upon my trembling, shivering form.

...You gestured to a plastic chair and I sat down, wondering what dastardly scheme you had devised to torment me. From your pants pocket you extracted three silk scarves, the ones you gave me as secret bondage props. One for the wrists, two for the ankles. You like my hands together and my legs spread wide. Swiftly, you bound my wrists behind the back of the chair, then you paused to appraise your captive nude. My burning bottom felt lovely against the cool smoothness of the plastic chair. High up above us, faint voices emanated from another balcony on the nearby hotel. Smiling, you lifted my legs and placed my feet upon the steel rail of our balcony.

"Spread 'em."

I opened my legs, stretched up and out, an inner city panorama between my glistening thighs. Quickly, you wrapped the remaining scarves about my ankles and then tied them, like little silky slings, around the balcony rail.

"Now, everyone can see..."

My body was a rippling ocean of goose flesh, my nipples full and firm. I looked down at my breasts, at my belly...I could barely wriggle an inch, such was the tension of my bondage, my legs stretched straight and opened wide, exposing me to an urban world of restaurants and clubs and bars.

"Perhaps I should charge. A peep show. Now, there's an idea. But there's something missing."

Suddenly my world became dark and I realized that you'd slipped a blindfold over my head. Your voice continued, calm and conversational.

"That's better. Now, I think I'll get my book."

I strained to listen as you stepped back into our room, but could hear nothing but the distant hum of the traffic, a faint clattering of pans from the open kitchen door of a nearby restaurant. Voices drifted upwards, every juvenile hoot seemingly directed at my plight. But how visible was I? To someone with binoculars, very much so. To the average Joe in the street, I could be sunbathing in pink. Most likely, he wouldn't even see me, oblivious with his own concerns.

"A fascinating vista, is it not?"

A prolonged scene of sexual teasing, tension and ultimate release follows, which, dear readers, you would find too explicit. You would, wouldn't you? If not, you'll just have to use your imagination. Finally, the spell is broken.

I heard you step into our room and there was the faint, cheerful fumble and pop of a bottle being opened. Your voice returned to the doorway.

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

Soon, we'd have to return to our everyday lives. But we have our wild weekends, you and I, like so many others who cannot live the BDSM life 24/7. We have "vanilla" partners, unmet needs. There are plenty of reasons for weekend kink. It's a compromise, I suppose, but many of us realize our darker proclivities fairly well on in life, after other choices have been made.

You raised my blindfold but didn't bother untying my hands.

Carefully, you put the glass to my lips and I took a sip.

"Well, um – bottoms up!"

I snorted at your witticism and the luscious Burgundy surged up my nose, rushed down my chin and spattered my breasts.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for August 24

Our topic of advice to new bloggers gave us all some food for thought.

Wilma: I would tell them to be as honest and true to themselves and in their writing if they want to receive the most out of their blogging experience.

As far as etiquette goes, answer your comments. People take time to offer support and advice. Take the time to thank them. I understand that some times it is difficult to answer, so during those times, just say that at the start of your next post. As Rogue once said, "It is polite to speak when spoken too"

If you want more readers, comment more on others' blogs. You don't have to link your blog in their comment box, just have your blogger id linked to your blog. Other bloggers will follow you 'home'. Don't be shy if you don't think what you have to say is valuable. A simple, "Hello and I understand" will work.

Chickadee: I was going to say what willie said, but she of course says it much better than I ever could :-)

Also, it's okay to have a fiction blog, or for it to be real life, or a combination of the two. Out of consideration for your readers, you should make it clear what each post is. There was a blog I thought was real, only to find out it wasn't. It was just a odd feeling. There wasn't deception, I just misunderstood what it was.

And then being honest goes without saying... if you claim it's real and want to build real-life friendships, it had better be real.

Autumn: Comment, comment, comment. The more you comment on others' blogs, the more they can get to know you. And for gosh sake, acknowledge when someone comments on your blog!

Arched one: I don't have a blog so maybe I shouldn't comment. But I do read a lot of blogs and know what I like to read. Let me say that I am in a spanking relationship my wife spanks me. I have to agree with what has been posted so far and for me I love to read what is really going on in a spanking relationship. There are fiction sites all over the net and myself I don't care to read fiction on a blog unless it's related to what goes on in your real life.

Dan: Don't try to appeal to the masses. Don't feel pressured into expressing views that aren't your own. It's more important to have a small community of readers who like and respect each others' views than to try to cater to every interest. And, some readers of kinky blogs are pretty dictatorial about the rules or definitions that they think apply. Don't put up with that. It's your blog. If someone doesn't like what you or another reader is expressing, they can go somewhere else. And, one I learned from personal experience, and which Hermione gave me wise advice about: Don't respond to pests. It just gives them a microphone. Just delete each of the offending comments until they either get the message or leave.

One technical recommendation: The "Pages" function in Blogger allows you to create topic tabs that take readers to different pages. I think it really helps structure the blog and allow people to find the content they are searching for.

Minelle: I would encourage everyone to do it your way! Try and have fun. We are all different!
Always be respectful even when you disagree. Comments that belittle or denigrate another are just wrong. Thoughtful discussion and varying opinions are always welcome and appreciated!
This is a wonderful community of support!

Cat: It's your blog - post what you want with no apologies. But remember, when you post something, you are inviting comments unless you turn them off. Be open to receiving all kinds of feedback, honestly consider it all and reply politely even if you don't agree.

Leigh: Like in life, if it sounds too good or bad to be true, it usually is. Take everything you read with a grain of salt and don't compare with anyone else - you are an original and not like anyone else so why would their exact dynamic work for you.

Rollin: All of the above are good comments. I'll add two ideas. First, a blog should be content rich, that is, it should give readers the substance of what they are looking for. Too many blogs are thin promotional vehicles for commercial endeavors or have little of interest to say.

Second, update often. Once you get a following they will come back regularly, but you have to constantly add content.

And yeah, comment on other people's blogs frequently.

Ronnie: Make it your blog be true and don't compare yourself with others. Make sure you reply to all comments. If you need help, don't be afraid to ask this is a wonderful community.

Bonnie: For the past few years, I've directed readers to this post. I think most of it still makes sense.

Beyond that, I suggest that blogging life is an extension of real life. Common sense rules should apply in both places. Don't believe a story from an online person that you wouldn't believe from a real life person. Equally important, don't let anyone treat you or speak to you online in ways that you won't accept elsewhere. Being online is not a valid excuse for rudeness, abusiveness, stupidity, or deception.
 
Hermione: After rereading the post that Bonnie mentioned above, there's not much I can add. But I will say this: don't be shy. Many new bloggers often feel intimidated by the established group of bloggers and are afraid to comment because they aren't part of the group. Everyone is welcome to join our spanking blogger family. We are a friendly, accepting group of individuals who welcome newbies. So jump right in, introduce yourself on your favourite blogs, and you'll soon be part of the group too.


Thanks, everybody, for those words of wisdom. I hope they help our new and not so new bloggers alike.

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #34

Last week our good friend Bonnie let it be known that although My Bottom Smarts is officially closed, the two blogrolls are very much alive and well. She is adding new blogs on a weekly (and sometimes daily) basis. So it seems that blogging is still a very popular activity among us spankos.

What words of advice or encouragement do you have for the newest members of our blogging community? Are there any tips for new bloggers that you have discovered and would like to share? What about the pitfalls, and what to avoid?

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

You Completed the Caption

This stream of photos begged for some play by play commentary. Here's what you said:


Nina: Catch me if you can! If you can, you may spank me! Please!

Ronnie: Its the other guy I wanted to chase me but never mind - you'll do.

Minelle: "It was a dare! I was just playing around!"
"Fine because now I'm going to.....dare to spank you!"

Autumn: Good game, Cabrera!
Give me one more minute, I'm almost done!
Good game, LaRoche!
I spanked you, now it's your tuuuuuurn!

Leigh: #1 I've always wanted to pinch that butt.

Katie: Don't mess with me Buddy! I'm on a spanking scavenger hunt and my team is going in for the win!

A. Lurker: Who's on first?

Paddlingtown Women Spank Their Men: In local sports news, the Paddlingtown women’s baseball team walloped the men’s team 2 to 1 last night thanks to Ima “Bottoms Up” Bratt who lead the scoring with a 2-run base hit. The victory was especially joyous for the women because they had been at the bottom of the league for many years and this win will put them on top. Rock “Slap Happy” Butt was overheard saying, after the game, “Enjoy it now coz next time we will whip your arses and it will be painful.”

Han: Cute butt...
Oh no, not finished yet...
Will you marry me?
Wait, he said yes!

Measha: Have you seen their butts!? They are begging to be pinched!

Catch me if you can!!!

Ricky: He chased her until she caught him.
She's so sweet and adorably bratty! She's just asking for a good
spanking!

Sir Wendel: Strolling through the park one day.
Spanking all the guys that play.

Dr. Ken: Same caption for photos 2 and 4:

"Nooooo! I don't want a spanking!!"

Hermione: The bases were loaded but suddenly no one seemed to care about stealing home.

Friday FUN

There's no way these are FAILs. They're just too funny!

 Mmm, I'd like to see Ron in a pair of those

 What every road construction needs

 What if they don't fit?

 So unfortunate

 Someone's going to get an "F" for that piece of handiwork

I really can't imagine what might be in that box

Don't forget to Complete the Caption!

Complete the Caption

As a special treat I have a series of photos for you to caption. I found these as a set and couldn't decide which one to use, so I thought it would be fun for you to see them all. Someone is intent on disturbing a baseball game, don't you think?

Complete the caption (for one photo or all four - that's up to you) by leaving a comment, and I will publish your commentaries in an upcoming post.

You're into Spanking If...

I found this clever sign last week on the tumbler blog, Plector, among a whole collection of similar signs. Originally I had included a link to the original post so you could see the rest of them.  Sadly, that blog has since disappeared, but I was able to find a few of the signs reblogged in other places.

Can you think of any additional ways to tell if you are into spanking?

From the Top Shelf - On the Bare

'On the Bare' is from a novel by Hilary Chale called Fined or Caned. It is set in Britain of the future, where citizens are subject to corporal punishment instead of fines for minor offences.

Our heroine is Margaret Shade, who has been caught smuggling a large quantity of wine into England after a holiday in Paris. She has been sentenced to 67 strokes of the cane administered by a caning machine. The punishment is based on a formula, and she can take her strokes in as many installments as she likes. Here is her first visit to the punishment centre.

The marble floored lobby was much as she expected. There were two lifts straight ahead, and facing each other were two counters. The one on the left was marked Gentlemen, the other Ladies. There was a small computer screen on each. Margaret went up to the young uniformed woman, and produced her card.

"Have you ever done this before, Madam?"

"No"

She inserted the card beneath the screen. When it came out again she said: "If you take the right hand lift up to the second floor, there will be someone to meet you." She smiled.

Neither Margaret nor the girl saw any incongruity in the pleasant tone of the conversation. She entered the lift and went up.

"Good morning, Madam, may I see your card?"

Margaret held it out.

"Thank you - you see we never speak names aloud in the passage."

She was personable, perhaps a little younger than the one in the hall. "Probably a trained nurse as well." Margaret judged.

"Have you a friend with you?"

"N-No. Could I?"

"It says so on the card"

"Of course, my fault."

Of the doors along the passage, two stood open. They stopped at the first.

"This will be your changing room," she led the way in.

"When I go out, you shut the door. You won't be able to open it again until after you've been punished. That door opposite leads straight into the punishment chamber. The instructions are all written up on the wall here and next door, but it may help if I tell you."

"Yes, thank you."

"You strip off everything below the waist: shoes, tights, panties - everything. There must be nothing whatsoever below the belt line. When you're ready, you can call me on the intercom, which is here. As soon as the chamber is ready for you, I will call you and unlock the door. It's all done electrically. You will be inspected on the closed circuit before you're allowed in."

"I see."

"The one thing you MUST have in the chamber with you is your card because it activates the machine and keeps count, but you mustn't bring in anything else. Understood?"

"What do I do when I get in the chamber?"

"You'll be told, and anyway the instructions are there. It's quite easy."

Margaret nodded.

"And don't forget, if you have any doubts, or want some help, call me. Just remember, once you've closed this door, you have to go through with it."

"I follow."

"Well, are you ready?"

"Will there be anyone else in the chamber while I'm -"

"No, not unless you ask."

"What about a friend?"

"There's a special friends room. You'll see."

"Alright. I think I'm ready."

"OK - and good luck."

The wardress left the door open behind her. Her footsteps retreated down the passage and she obviously went into another room. Margaret's heart began to pound. She went over and carefully shut the door and then tried it so see if it would open. It would not. She was left alone to her fate.

The room, though rather severe in its white paint and illuminated ceiling, was comfortably, almost luxuriously, furnished. There was a wall wardrobe with hangers, a luggage stand, a leatherette covered stool and an easy chair. The shower room had a bidet as well as a loo and a basin. There was a built-in dressing table with a wall-mirror - and another very low one. She smiled as she recognised its purpose.

She began to undress and hang up her clothes. Skirt first, then her tights. Her shirt hung well below the belt. It would have to come off. She was wearing a bra which she didn't really need. Her breasts had always been firm. The bra could stay now. She pottered about, put her handbag in the cupboard, took it out and extracted the card, put the card on the table.

"Time to take my pants off," she muttered through gritted teeth.

She put them on the cupboard shelf and briefly looked at her smooth buttocks in the low mirror.

"Before," she muttered, "Now for After."

She pressed the intercom switch. She was trembling slightly but not entirely from fear.

"Hullo?"

"I'm ready."

"So I see. 'Fraid you'll have to wait a few minutes. Sorry."

Margaret wondered who else could see her. There was little point in modesty at the moment. She settled herself comfortably on the cool leatherette and lit a fag. She didn't often smoke. She could see what Mary had meant about it making a change. This could scarcely be more restful, save for the thunder of her own heartbeats. The smoke floated, and went on floating lazily to the ceiling.

She had finished two-thirds of the cigarette when she sensed that the intercom had gone live. There was a short cough.

"Madam."

"Yes?"

"You may go in now. Don't forget your card."

The chamber door clicked. She stubbed out the cigarette, stood up, opened the door and went in.

Naturally she knew about these machines. She had, in fact, seen the gloating illustrations in the Sundays when the first centre had been opened. All the same it came as a surprise to her. The whole apparatus faced towards the left-hand wall. There was a large drum-like roller on its stand. Two spring-loaded short metal arms protruded from machinery housings, which stood, about six feet apart, one either side of the drum. Into the socket at the end of each arm, a three-foot cane had been inserted. They now stood, swung back, wide open and slightly to the front.

"Or rather, behind," she thought ruefully.

The wardress's voice came over the intercom.

"Insert your card, blue side up, into the yellow slot on the top of the left hand machine - that's right. Push it right home."

"Now go and stand between the machines and face the drum."

"Mount the yellow step on the drum itself. You'll find that it's quite firm."

The drum was not fully round, but cut off flat at the lowest part so that about a quarter of its circumference was missing. This flat base was well above the ground, and extended outwards to make the step. Margaret stepped up. It was, as she had been told, perfectly firm.

"Now, in a moment you will bend over the drum. If you leave things as they are you will receive six strokes. But if you think you can take more, you can set the control for more by pressing the red button by the yellow slot."

"No more? Very well, Madam, bend over."

She settled herself over the drum's padded leatherette, which was cool on her stomach, as the chair's had been on her bottom.

"Now listen carefully. If you look down you will see two holes in the step on the other side. When I say 'reach', put your hands through those slots and grasp the handles you will see at the bottom. Your wrists will immediately be pinioned and you will be held in that position until it is over. When both your hands are pinioned, there will be an interval of one minute, and then your punishment will begin."

"I see" said Margaret.

"OK, now - reach."

She put first her left hand, and then her right into its slot and grasped the handle at the bottom. It incorporated some kind of trigger. There was a snap and her wrists were enclosed in a smoothly fitting hold. The machines made a faint whirring sound and the canes, which she saw out of the corner of her eye, swung round out of her vision and behind her.

A million thoughts and images chased across the inside of her head. Seeing her school-friend Anne's own bottom marks. The almost unbearable silence. The row with Miss Cullin. Should she open her legs or keep them together? She opened them slightly. Had she stubbed that cigarette out? The holiday in Corfu.

There was a very small click on her left.

She had not consciously heeded it. The cane cut into her rump like a cold fire after a second of nothingness, and drove a wave of horror up her body, almost to her throat. She gasped, astounded. Then there seemed to be an endless pause. She felt a very small movement. The drum, with her on it, was rotating about half an inch. Now she saw why it was mounted on an axle. The next stroke would come a hair's breadth lower down.

This time there was a click on the right!

She noticed it and prepared herself. Again that empty cut followed by the stampeding pain upwards, and then the hot line rising across her. The drum turned another half an inch.

The left-hand cane was coming next. If only she could see something other than her arms and the floor. A mirror would help, a low wall mirror like the one in the changing room. Her heart and mind, and understanding, were in one world; her knees, feet and curves in another, separated by the great mass of the drum. The only contacts between the front and the back worlds were the messages of fiery pain.

Click.

This time she tried to meet it. Somehow it might be better that way. She remembered how Miss Archibald's school cane had hurt her right side more than her left. It was the end curling round which did the damage. These canes were finely aligned and dispensed very even handed justice. All the same, that left hand one did hurt her right buttock more than the other.

Click.

With the right-hand cane it was the other way round. It made her shift uneasily. The drum was still moving its half inch between strokes. Two more to go. To think that she would have to endure this regularly for weeks! She was going to meet the next one too. She did not want to scream but she couldn't help drawing in a great gulp.

That was the left hand again, and she had not notice the click. If the drum goes on turning like this, some poor soul will be standing on her head, she thought. Wonder when it turns back? Must remember to ask.

The right hand click.

She arched herself and thrust her haunches back as far as she could. Difficult in that position. It seemed to come like lightening. God! Then there was that faint whirring. She could see the canes again over her shoulders. The grip on her wrists relaxed and disappeared.

"Did you want any more, Madam?"

She shook her head and started to scramble up. As she did so, she noticed the grilled observation window opposite the changing room door. No one there now. Tomorrow?

She took her card and went back into the room.

"Would you mind shutting the door, please? We've got someone else waiting."

She did as she was asked. Then she pressed the intercom. "Can you come down?"

"Yes certainly. In a minute or two."

She began to examine her bottom and feel it with her hands. The welts stood up, red and virtually contiguous. If there had been a double mirror it would have been easy. Looking back at herself created lighting problems. She had to look round one way and then the other. She tried standing with her legs apart and bending over to look between them. She wondered how long they might last. It was not material, really, because there was so much more to come. A quick calculation by school arithmetic. She had had about 9% of it. There was a knock at the door.

"Thought you might like a cup of tea."

Margaret, apart from her bra, was naked. "Oh, how nice," she said, "please come and sit down if you're not busy." Just as if she was playing hostess in her own home.

"It's alright. There's usually a bit of a rush after lunch but my colleague can cope now."

She sat down. Margaret, of course, opted to stand.

She began, "I shall have to come here more often. In fact I'm coming for my next dose tomorrow. I'm with another girl who is coming too. One can make appointments?"

"No, sorry, it's first come, first served. Everyone is supposed to take their turn but we try and help. It's not always easy for people. When were you thinking of coming?"

"Eleven?"

"Should be alright. I could fix it so you are done at different times."

"I'm not sure how it will work out," Margaret began, then it all tumbled out, ending "- and I don't know if she will want me to - to - see her."

"That's easy. It's her decision. We ask her and if she says 'no' you don't get to watch. Friends have to sign the book of course."

"Another thing. That drum which one bends over. I suppose it must turn back?"

"Yes. Every seven strokes. Were you thinking of taking more today?"

"I haven't got a lot of time. How long does it take for the marks to disappear?"

"Going on a seaside holiday, or something?"

Pause

She was still naked, drinking tea. Presumably the wardress could see her stripes in the mirror.

"Some are tougher than others. I can't say yet how you'll shape. Might get an idea tomorrow though. You wouldn't want to come every day, would you?"

"Er, no, I don't think so."

"We get a few hardy 67's you know. Must be difficult for them in a hurry. We're not supposed to suggest or persuade people but -"

"You were practically inviting me to take more."

"Yes. You see if you took four nines - thirty six - that leaves thirty-one. One seven and four sixes. Nine visits, tailing off in severity a bit at the end. You've had one. You'll finish in a month if you come twice a week, especially if you come tomorrow."

"I would certainly come on Saturday if you're open."

"Seven days a week service, actually, but I'm not here on Thursdays. My day off."

"I hadn't really thought this out. In fact I've never thought about it before. "

"I'm not surprised, it comes as a bit of a shock."

"It certainly does!" said Margaret with feeling.

"It hurts like hell too," the girl said. "Not easy to get one's idea straight."

"You've had the cane?" asked Margaret, surprised.

Just then the intercom interrupted: "Rosemary!" and the answer was left in the air.

"That's me," the girl said, " I must be going, but I'll see you out."

"Thank you for coming and talking to me." Margaret said.

"Your bottom's alright at the moment," said Rosemary. "I wouldn't touch it if I were you."

She waved goodbye and ushered Margaret out of the building.

It seems that Margaret has made a friend. She's probably looking forward to their next cuppa and chat already.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for August 17

Our topic this week was spanking and music. Here's what you said:

Dan: Music has never been a part of our spanking sessions. But, one song that always reminds me of spankings, and BDSM themes, is "Possession" by Sarah McLachlan.

Simon: These days my punishments are carried out in silence, apart from my groans and muttered thank yous. Long before I met my current Mistress I was punished a few times by a lovely Australian lady who liked to have classical music playing whilst she beat me but I can't identify the pieces.

Larissa: I use music for a lot things but I wouldn't think about in a spanking session because I feel like it is a therapy of sorts. A release whether punishment or pleasure.

Welcome, Larissa!

Six of the best: Hermione, you asked an interesting question about 'spanking music'. The is an old old song from the 40's called "Beat me Daddy, eight to the bar". That has been recorded by the likes of Glenn Miller, Andrew Sisters, Ella Fitzgerald, and Woody Herman. I wonder if any spanko has ever used this appropriate musical masterpiece.

Anon: For me it's Bonnie Tyler's "Total eclipse of the heart" I can't say we've ever listened to it during a spanking but when I hear it I get all subby.

Dragon's Rose: I find it distracting but after the first few minutes of an intense scene, I don't notice much.

Sir Wendel: The sound of the paddle on the behind is music to my ears but I thought I would try out some music tonight as an experiment. I found it a bit distracting and the missus is still trying to figure out what she did to deserve a paddling.

Arched one: We have not listened to music during a spanking, but if I'm OTK in front of the TV and a commercial comes on she will spank to the music in the back ground. I'm glad we don't have any cd's with drum music LOL.

Roz: Great question Hermione! We don't use music in spanking sessions, but there are a lot of songs that bring spanking and ttwd to mind. I did a post once listing my pick of top 20 DD songs lol. It was fun putting it together.

Rod: T.Rex is good music for drowning out a spanking, if you need to...

Bogey: At the beginning of a paddling, Bacall will wiggle her bottom in time with a tune that might be playing or sing along.

Ronnie: I listen to music a lot but its not part of our spanking though the radio is often on when I'm being spanked but that is mainly to drown out the sound of me being spanked.

Anon2: Try a spanking accompanied by, and in time with "The Anvil Chorus" from Il Trovatore; she will be standing up for some time afterwards.

Terpsichore: We often have music in the background of our play, mostly because we enjoy listening to music, but it does also help us to have some background noise in hopes that the little ones do not hear our activity.

Hermione: I've often thought that "Johnny Get Angry" by Shelley Fabares, was actually intended to be a spanking song. In the line "Give me the biggest lecture I've ever had" I always substituted "spanking" for "lecture".

We don't have music on during a spanking for some of the reasons mentioned above. I find it distracting, and Ron thinks the sound of the paddle together with the noise I make doesn't require additional enhancement.


We seem to be a bunch of music lovers! See you all next week for another lively debate.

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #33

Welcome, dear friends. It's lovely to see you all here again.

I was just thinking how important music is in my life. At home, we have the radio on most of the time, and often listen to CDs. Music is the background to most of our domestic activities.

Are your spankings ever accompanied by music? Do you have a special song that reminds you of spanking?

Leave your reply as a comment, and I will publish a summary of our discussion at the end of the weekend.

You Completed the Caption

These ladies are ready for anything, as your captions prove!

Leigh: How they were going to get out of their present circumstances.

Ronnie: You had him last Saturday so tonight's my turn.

Minelle: 'Okay, see that gorgeous guy over there? I'm going to walk close and create a scene!'

Smuccatelli: He offered me a roll of quarters! Can you imagine!

Michael M: I heard that chap Rupert, you know the one who likes that kinky stuff, left a cigarette burning when Dawn tied him up and she didn't notice. It seems that the fire service got him out but they had a few laughs at his Prince Albert.

Sir Wendel: There is a 3 hour wait for the “Spanked in Diagon Alley” attraction.

Han: Don't look, but that guy behind you? He spanked my ass a week ago until it was the colour of your hair.

Anon: Being spanked for money is better than the obvious ways. Never knew that many men enjoyed it so much. Too bad it takes a couple of days between spankings.

jimisim: Is that your Dad in the white shirt, coming to give you a belting for showing your boobs in that dress?

Jon: Oh, God, my Mom's at the window. She promised me I wouldn't sit down for a week if I came in this late again.

That darn Harry he kept my kickers. When Mom sees that ...

Autumn: Charleen tugged on her ear, a signal to Ellen that a potential mark was in sight. Ellen lit a cigarette in an effort to look more alluring and strutted across the street, her green skirt emphasizing the curve of her bottom... Little did the ladies know, this undercover cop was not a fan of smoking and has his own methods to deal with naughty girls. He could be caught "red handed" any day of the week.

Katie: I know that you don't want to talk to loudly about Roger spanking your bottom last night, but you are going to have to speak up a little. I can't hear you! What in the world did you do???

Vfrat25000: Where the hell are we?
I have no idea!

Katherine…This is NOT Disneyland!

I forgot my handcuffs; we have to go back home!
You can use mine. You volunteered us to be the bait for the “Serial Night Spanker” so you are not going anywhere! Stick that bottom out and start wiggling!

STELLA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STELLA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What was that? Are we in a real life episode of “A Streetcar Named Desire?”
No, just my husband, I hid his hemorrhoid cream because he spanked me last night!

I just a saw a rat as big as my poodle!
Forget that! Some guy in a sweaty t-shirt and greasy hair is walking towards us with an evil grin and a big hairbrush in his hand. Kick that rat out of the way and let’s get out of here!

When did they build a huge multi-story New York style back alley in Pigs Knuckle Arkansas?

Dr. Ken: "Chief?.....Come in, Chief?....Dammit, O'Hara, I've lost communication with the surveillance truck! Looks like we're going to have to take down this prostitution ring by ourselves!"

Hermione: Does this skirt make my bum look big?


Now for something completely different, I invite you to join us for brunch, being served shortly.  If you can't make it, then have a great weekend.