Whip it!

Today's post is courtesy of my friend Jon, who discovered this sporting goods store.

Yes, it's a real store! Jon writes, "It is fun to imagine all the ‘sporting’ goods one could ask for. Ping-Pong paddle? Whiffle or minnie bat? Topsiders. [Pun intended.] I’m certain they will consider equestrian events sports for which I could request appropriate ‘gear.’ I may have to stop by and purchase a shirt."

If you do, Jon, you will be the envy of Tops everywhere.


To continue with today's "whip it" theme...

No, that's not what I meant. Let me try again...

That's better. Quite an impressive feat. And on that note, we say good-bye to 2014. It's been a cracking year.

From the Top Shelf - Unavoidably Detained, part 1

This is a short 'autobiographical' story by Therese Copeland, set in the swinging 60s. It reflects the kind of office life that spanko men always fondly hope exists but never seem to find. Timid, submissive Therese comes to grief at the hands of her very toppy and rather unpleasant boss.

Unavoidably Detained

Having been brought up never to say "no" was the reason I found myself starting my first proper full-time job at the age of 18. Six months prior to that I had worked in the office at my father's firm.

The fact that I was doing office work at all was a disappointment to my family. My two elder sisters left school with a clutch of 'O' and 'A' levels, went on to get good degrees at university, and took up challenging careers in different parts of the country. Mum and Dad were very proud of them. I, on the other hand, failed all my exams except Religious Knowledge, and my grades were so poor that it wasn't even worth re-sitting them. My ambition was just to get married and have babies. I never saw anything wrong with that, but my parents gave me the impression that I'd failed them, and paid for me to do a typing course. After that, as I say, I worked for Dad for a while but things didn't work out...

Mom and Dad talked it over and decided I should try for an outside job. Everything in my life was planned by my parents at the time, and a couple of interviews were arranged. When one of them actually offered me a job I accepted. I didn't particularly like the look of the place or the people, but I had the idea that if someone was willing to employ you it was wrong to turn them down.

I started at McKay, Brent and Piper without having any real idea what they did or what my duties were to be, because the interview had completely confused me. The three bosses had scrutinised me, all obviously competing for the job of top boss among themselves. So, not knowing who to listen to, or answer, or agree with , I just said "yes" and kept smiling. I had the feeling too, that they only gave me the job when they saw how easy going I was - and, perhaps even then, one particular boss there knew I'd probably take whatever he wanted to dish out. I really didn't fancy the place but I thought there was some law about taking jobs you were offered. Naive, wasn't I!

It was a very early start, and I had to be up by 5:30 to leave the house by 6:30. During the hour's travelling time on the train I got a brief rest before starting the day. I needed it. I have never worked in a colder, more unfriendly place. Everything was so official. I even wondered about the home lives of these people, or if they just went into little boxes at the end of the day. I just couldn't imagine them anywhere else except at the office...

Even worse than all this, the entire company was staffed by men—apart from me, though somehow I didn't think I counted—from the three bosses who gave it its name, through the small body of clerks to the office messenger. It was somehow natural, therefore, for me to take on extra duties in addition to the general office work, and I found myself running errands, providing refreshments, cleaning and taking the blame for everyone else's shortcomings. The job was too much for just one person, especially one with my lack of experience, yet I thought all the pressures and mistakes were due to my own inadequacies, and simply tried harder to get it as right as I could. I don't think I ever finished anything at all in the time I was there. At least that's how it seemed.

I was exhausted by the end of my first month, but still couldn't bring myself to simply say 'no' when I was asked to do something new. The three bosses each spent their time countermanding the instructions of the other two, and I could never decide whose instructions were supposed to take precedence. It seemed as if every time I put a piece of work in the typewriter and started on it, one of the men would take it out in mid-type and say "Do this instead. Its more important."

My three employers had different roles in the company, and it was hard to switch from one job to another without getting confused. Trying to juggle three extremely demanding and conflicting bosses was a nightmare. They were all very different individuals too. Robert McKay was quite elderly and walked in a way that suggested he had far more important things to do than run a business. He wore a constant frown, and I don't remember him ever saying so much as a 'hello' or 'goodbye' to me in all the time I was there.

The second, Robin Piper, was by far the nicest. He was fiftyish and terribly fat. Every morning he would sit behind his desk, rub his huge belly and say, "I could do with a roll, Therese." I used to love escaping from the office to go down to the delicatessen for his snacks, because it was always warm there, with steaming kettles and lots of food about. He was the only one of them I would have called 'human'.

The real pain was the youngest one, Trevor. How I hated him. He was the son of the original Mr. Brent and not long out of university. He had mousy colouring and, despite at first appearing to be friendly, was the most unpleasant character I have ever come across. He dressed badly (though I'm a fine one to talk) and didn't seem to realise that his tie absolutely never went with his shirt - which was always slightly dirty, probably due to the fact that he wasn't likely to have a girl-friend willing to wash them. His work involved a lot of figures, and I was forever making mistakes when I typed it up.

I spent each day at work praying for it to be five o'clock, and all my leisure hours dreading my return to the office. The worst period came around 4:45 p.m. I would invariably finish one piece of work, but not have enough time to complete another before going home. I was not allowed to go home until it was exactly on the hour, but neither was I allowed to leave work half-typed overnight. So during these last minutes I had to try and make myself look busy, without being found out - or else end up doing a lot of unpaid overtime (which was more often the case) while everyone else had gone off back to their families or the pub.

On one particular evening I was getting ready to leave because it was, quite literally, only a couple of minutes away from 5 p.m. I suppose I should have learned better by then than to try and get away with even a second! Sure enough Trevor Brent came out of his office, saw me picking up my handbag and motioned for me to follow him back in. I felt my heart sink into my stomach as I entered. It was a musty, ill-lit room with a high ceiling, tiny window and flaking grey paint. He sat down importantly behind his vast wooden desk, a short thin man in a badly fitting suit that matched the paintwork.

"Leaving early, Miss Copeland?"

He lounged in his swivel chair and templed his fingers under his chin, then I noticed again how darkly stained they were from nicotine. I stood there in my unbuttoned coat , wishing I could vanish into the woodwork. I was wearing a frumpish suit, and although my glasses were stylish, my pudding-basin haircut and inexpert attempts to glamorise myself with make-up made me look like a child in a dressing-up game. Even now the memory of how I must have looked, and how helpless I felt, makes me cringe with embarrassment.

I stammered my explanations about having finished my work for the day, and the problems I had getting home before dark. He glanced at the wall-clock and asked when my next bus was due.

"In ten minutes' time," I replied, obviously anxious to get away. "I'll have to wait another half hour if I miss it, and then I won't make the connection with my train, and have to wait another hour." To my horror I heard a tremor in my voice, and my lowered eyelashes felt damp.

"Do your parents worry if you are late?" he asked. "Do you get into trouble?"

"Oh no," I assured him, "In fact, they're getting quite used to it."

"Well there's no problem about you staying until your appointed time and earning your salary then," he retorted brusquely. "Is there!" Then he proceeded to lecture me on my responsibilities and obligations to the firm, all fairly meaningless and repetitive, his eyes glancing now and again at the clock. I don't know why, but I just felt totally unable to move or break away as his voice went on. I suppose it was because, whatever I may have thought of him personally, Trevor Brent represented authority, and that fact alone seemed to drain all my energy and will.

Suddenly he stopped talking and told me I could go. It was twelve minutes past five and he knew I had missed my bus. As I walked to the door he called after me, "Tell Mommy you were in detention," and chuckled heartily.

About a week later I again found myself with 10 or 15 minutes to kill at the end of the afternoon and decided to occupy myself typing a list of things I had to do at home, just so I'd look busy. At one minute to five Trevor suddenly appeared, pulled the page from my typewriter and said, "Never mind that, whatever it is, I need these accounts typed now."

He thrust a wad of papers at me and walked off, still holding my list of domestic tasks. I went cold with dismay at the thought of him reading them. Looking at the reams of figures he had given me, I calculated that they would take at least an hour to prepare. Miserably, but resigned to my duties, I set the tabs for the columns and was just aligning the paper when Mr. Brent stormed through the door. The place was now empty but for the two of us, and he simply said, "Miss Copeland!" and motioned me with a crooked finger to follow him back to his office.

I stood in front of his desk, literally shaking in my shoes as he waved the list I'd been typing in my face, and ranted on about how dare I use the firm's time and equipment for my personal business. Then he rose from his creaking executive chair and came around the desk, then stood so close to me that I was forced to inhale smoke from his cigar. It made me cough and blink and I flinched from him.

"What do you think I should do about this sorry state of affairs?" he rasped.

I stuttered that I didn't know.

"Shall I tell my partners?"

I shrugged my shoulders and snivelled a little and brought out a Kleenex to blow my nose.

"Shall I tell your parents about your slackness and incompetence?"

I whimpered that I would prefer him not to. I didn't like to imagine what Dad would have said.

"Shall I sack you on the spot for abuse of your position?"

"Oh no!" I implored, making it sound as if the horrible little job was a true vocation which I was desperate not to be deprived of.

"So it rather looks like another detention, doesn't it!" he said, returning to his seat. "Well we had better make sure you learn your lesson this time. How can we do that?"

I was so relieved not to be fired that I didn't care. I assumed he would find me even more typing to do before I was allowed home, or get me to rearrange the filing system.

"I think I'll give you lines to do," Trevor snapped. "Yes; go to your desk and type out, five hundred times without errors: "The property of MacKay, Brent and Piper is not to be used for my personal convenience." Off you go now!"

He had to tell me to go again, because I was so amazed at what he said I thought it must be some kind of joke. He seemed serious enough though so I choked back any questions and went off to type my 'lines'. It took me three hours to complete the task, thinking only that the moment I was finished I could go home. During all that time my boss stayed in his office with the door open, watching me. It seemed unbelievable. He wouldn't even let me make myself a cup of coffee and, by the time I typed the final line, I was tired, hungry, thirsty and more miserable than I would ever have believed possible. I took the 'work' to him and he went through it word for word to check for mistakes. He seemed disappointed not to find any.

Trevor passed the pages back across his desk to me. Then,as I automatically turned towards the door to leave, something else he was saying finally impressed itself on my exhausted brain.

"Read what you have typed aloud to me," he repeated.

I blinked down at the first line on the top page and swallowed hard.

"The property of MacKay, Brent and Piper is not to be used for my personal convenience" I read out, then looked up at him. "Can I go now, please?" I whispered.

"Go on!" In great relief I ran to the door to collect my coat when he stopped me with a shout. "I mean go on and read them all," he said with a sneer.

Damp rushed to my eyes.I took off my glasses and dabbed the wetness. "Please let me go home," I begged, becoming seriously worried about getting a train at that time of night. But Trevor made me read the statement out another 499 times, and sat through my desperate recitation obviously relishing the power he had over me. I know it seems impossible nowadays that a girl would stand there and obey a command like that, but I did. When I had uttered the hateful sentence for the last time, I could hardly see through my tears, but he made me stand there for several minutes in sniffling silence before he said that he "trusted I would remember the dictum for as long as I worked there, and would never steal the company's resources again."

Then, as I once more made for the door, he said, very quietly but distinctly, "Next time I shall take even sterner measures, Therese Copeland!" I was too relieved to at last be going home to even analyse what this might imply.

What could be worse than typing lines? We will all find out next week.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for December 28

Our topic his week was spanking and New Year's celebrations.

Roz: Spanking doesn't usually form part of our new year celebrations, although I did get spanked last new year ... and it wasn't a fun kind!

Ttwd hasn't been very active for some time now so I have no idea when I may receive my first spanking for the year.

Six of the best: Each New Years Eve for the past five years I have invited a certain mature lady over, in order to have a 'spanking good time'. She is put over a bed, whereupon I raise her dress up waist high, take down her knickers, to bare her bottom. Since she is wearing a garter-belt and stockings which I have expressed, I then proceed to give her 'six of the best' with a CANE on her naked rear end. Sexual and erotic satisfaction, for both of us, usually follows.

Baxter: It is hard to say when the first one will occur but I think if not on New Years Day, then in a day or so after. As my wife says to me, "you are always naughty."

sub hub: Spanking is not a part of our New Year's celebration mostly because we are either with friends or we stayed home and are asleep. I suspect that my very first 2015 spanking will be on New Years day.

Nina: We have not discussed this yet, but the idea is intriguing. Since we have had a spanking break for most of 2014, we have to start slowly, but I'd love a nice kind of spanking on New Years Eve.

Sir Wendel: I have been giving the missus a New Year’s spanking shortly after midnight for many years now. I’ll put her over my lap and bare her bottom for a firm spanking with the paddle and/or belt. She usually can’t sit afterwards so my spanking comes the following day.

Andrew: In recent years our respectable life as a married couple with children has not offered opportunities for a spanking in of the New Year. But many years ago when I was young and fancy-free, I had a college friend named Tom who was dating a young lady with a slight accent named Erica. I think she was Austrian, tall, blonde and charming. She suggested that since she was giving a party and Tom would be hosting it together with her I should come over around 9 on New Year's Eve. I was told to bring a two bottles of wine, and dress simply but neatly since there are games played in which clothes may be removed. I was anyway quick to skinny dip with friends, as most guys in English universities were pretty quick to do.

I remember that the first part of the evening was a very normal friendly dinner. Then there were toasts, then songs, and we really all got very comfortable with each other, there must have been about 20 of us; more girls, but almost even. We did some kinds of raffles, and the prizes were roles to play at the stroke of midnight, I drew the role of ringer of the bells (she had 3 large ones hanging from a rod across the kitchen), but some people got fairly naughty tickets. My friend Annabelle drew beater of the year on the male of her choice, and Erica kept for herself the dance of the maidens.

To make a long story short, there were loads of spankings. Annabelle generously said that I seemed too busy with the bells to be spanked, and she ordered the slightly nutty Christopher to strip and lean over the table and she caned him. She said it would be 1989 strokes, but gave him over to Erica after about 50 and she finished him off with another 20 or 30. Erica herself was evidently very into spanking. So it was a fun time though I did not personally give or get.

Welcome, Andrew!

Minelle: I never know! It depends on what we are doing, and who is around.

Underling: It certainly did last year.

At midnight over here on New Year's Eve, the TV shows a live shot of the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben chiming. Since the two of us were celebrating alone indoors, my lady and I put the telly on at the appropriate time and I used a wooden paddle to give her twelve swats in time with the chimes.

It was a lot of fun, and I wouldn't be surprised if we do the same thing again on Wednesday :).

Arched one: We like the others don't spank on New Years Eve. However New Years Day is quiet different. For the past 4 years it's a lazy day for us, our attire for the day is bra and panties for her and panties for me. Lots of TV, Lots of kissing and sex, and lots and lots of spanking. The every enjoyable kind where my bottom just stings a little but gets a nice color for her.

Ronnie: Spanking is not an actual part of our New Year's celebrations. Not sure if it will happen this year as we may be away but if not that day pretty soon in the New Year or at least I hope so.

Anon: I wish I could get one on New Years Eve, New Years Day, or any day. My spanker has decided he doesn't want to hurt me, so he has quit spanking. Not quite sure how to get him started again - and yes, I've asked for one. His answer is either "no" or my wish is ignored. He won't be here for another couple of weeks, so I'll approach him again.

Try, try again! Here are some hints from Bonnie that may help. 

Jenn: Not on a regular basis, but it may play a role this year. I will ask him.

Hermione: We don't greet the new year with a midnight spanking as we are usually asleep well before then. I forsee a spanking a day or two later, though.


Thank you all for your responses. We'll see how it all turns out later this week.

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #52

Welcome to our last brunch for this year. New Year's Day is fast approaching, and with it comes a time for new beginnings.

Does spanking play a part in how you welcome in the new year? When do you predict your first spanking of 2015 will happen?

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

Season's Greetings

In honour of this special day, I have composed a poem. Ahem (clears throat)



Some deck the halls for Christmas, and decorate a tree,

That can be problematic in a blended family.

Some have winter wonderlands; for others, it's high summer,

When we find out Santa isn't real, that sure can be a bummer!

I hope you get the present that you wished for all year long,

Have a very happy holiday, and join us in this song.

Merry Christmas everyone!

From the Top Shelf - Brought to Book, part 2

Now for the good second part of the anonymously authored story from Kane magazine, "Brought to Book". Two girls who have been defacing library books get their just desserts. You may wish to refresh your memory by rereading part 1 first.

It was obvious that Miss Lovestock was keenly eager to get on with her appointed task of exacting retribution. Merely thinking about it gripped the woman in a sense of excitement which overwhelmed her. "Your punishment is going to be very severe," she said to the quaking girl she firmly pushed before her down to the basement,"that much I promise you!"

A quick look round and her eyes settled on several piles of discarded books, withdrawn from the shelves and now waiting, ready tied in bundles, for disposal. They were the perfect height.

"Bend over these," she instructed the trembling girl, pointing with the ruler. "Come along, come along, we haven't got all day to waste on the pair of you."

The fair-haired teenager walked to the stack of books and gingerly bent over them, but they were solid enough to take her weight. "Further over than that!" commanded Miss Lovestock. The new position exposed Millie's stockinged thighs and legs. Her mentor wasted no time in lifting the girl's skirt and tucking it under her belt. The sight that now presented itself, that of a plump submissive bottom, gave Alice Lovestock a tremendous thrill. In an uncontrollable state of desire to exert even more power over the young vandal who had ridiculed her, she lowered the girl's white nylon panties and then stood back with a gloating smile of satisfaction on her face at the thought of reddening those girlish buttocks now exposed before her.

She took up the ruler and at once brought it down on the girl's left buttock, marking it immediately with a faint red flush. She repeated the stroke on the other side and saw the ruler bring another scarlet stain to the white surface of the skin.

She watched as the girl tautened her muscles in anticipation, and then deftly applied the third stroke across the centre of both cheeks, following it quickly with a series of five or six strokes with all her force until the whole of the slim bottom was glowing with stripes. The girl cried out in pain, squirming as she adjusted to the intolerable smart of the stinging ruler. Miss Lovestock, provoked even more by her cries to a kind of madness, hit her with more force than ever, losing count of the number of strokes.

Mr. Martin put his hand on Miss Lovestock's arm and quietly counseled that enough was enough. Coming to her senses, she realised that the girl was in considerable pain and threw down the ruler saying, "Alright, my girl, you can get up now." Millie did so, pulling her knickers up and her skirt down, gulping her tears, silently owning, now that the assault on her tender bottom had stopped and the pain was subsiding to a warm tingle, that she had deserved it. Or had she? It had all been Jackie's idea! Why should she get away with just a hand spanking?

She would get even, she swore silently. Strangely, it was her friend she blamed, not the librarian or Miss Lovestock, her executioner.

Mr. Martin, having quietly viewed the whole performance, except for gently checking Miss Lovestock's enthusiasm, now said, "Right, your turn, Jackie!" He seated himself on one of the chairs that had been stored in the basement and said "Come here!"

With an uncontrollable excitement he was now eager to enjoy the sight of Jackie's bare bottom over his knee. With rare and decisive firmness, he grasped the girl's hand and tumbled her over his knees, lifting her skirt and sliding down the flimsiest pair of knickers he had seen in his life. He gave her a gentle slap, pushing her further over his knee, her head nearer the floor and her bottom raised up even more to his liking. There was no doubt about it, Jackie certainly followed her elder sister in looks. She was a Junoesque little thing. Perhaps not little, but compact, most certainly! When bottoms were handed out both Jackie and sister Heather must have been well to the front of the queue. Plump, round and firm, Jackie's backside was one that it would have been a crime not to smack! Some man, some day, was going to be very fortunate indeed!

He gazed his fill. It was a moment to savour. Then, remembering why the girl was here, her wilful, uncaring defacing of some of the world's most beautiful books, he had the strengthening resolve to really smack her, bring down his hand on that resilient flesh, and enjoy the impact of his palm on her bottom. To watch her legs as she kicked them out in the air to relieve the stinging pain.

The very thought of it brought an uncomfortable stiffness between his legs and he hoped that the lovely young girl across his knees was unaware of the growing hardness! He could no longer resist the urgent need to chastise this naughty girl so he started to slap with his open palm and, as he continued and warmed to his task, he became more and more bold. The harder slaps, tingling and painful, reduced the girl to sobbing gasps, and Mr. Martin began to bring his hand down on the luscious buttocks even more forcefully, and he was soon satisfied that the pleading girl was learning a well-deserved lesson.

He did not hesitate, though, to deliver more slaps with maximum force, smacking every part of her round, fleshy buttocks. Only when both cheeks were a burning red and seemed to give out an almost tangible heat did he pause.

Now, even though the chastisement of her delicious bottom was over , he did not let her get up, but held her down firmly with his left hand pressed into the small of her back. He looked down at the angry glowing hillocks, framed by the upturned school skirt and the little panties tangled forlornly around her twitching thighs.

Almost involuntarily his right hand caressed the exposed flesh, feeling the warmth generated by the force of his spanking. Jackie's body gave a slight shiver at his touch, and then, visibly, relaxed over his knees as if she sensed that the punishment was over and that this was by way of a sympathetic gesture, almost delivered as a token of forgiveness.

Her feeling of total shame, at being exposed, bare-bottomed, like a naughty little girl, had passed, and she was conscious of her hot and throbbing bottom, which, now that the actual stinging slaps had stopped, did not feel too unpleasant. In fact she felt quite aroused...

Jackie was almost resentful when a cough from Miss Lovestock brought home to both herself and the Chief Librarian that the punishment had ended and it was time to be stood on her feet, admonished, and dismissed after first replacing a pair of nylon panties which now felt strangely damp. She couldn't for the life of her imagine why!

Of one thing Jackie Gibbs was certain. She and Millie had behaved disgracefully. She couldn't expect Millie to agree with her; she wouldn't even ask, but she felt that tomorrow she must go and see Mr. Martin again to apologise. She would offer herself for further reparation. She was certain that she'd not been punished anywhere near enough!

* * *

Mr. Martin entered his office, closed the door, and threw the ruler back onto his desk. He felt inordinately pleased with himself and had to admit that he had enjoyed the spanking of Jackie's plump bare bottom more than he would ever admit. What's more, there was considerable visible evidence that she had enjoyed it too, despite the pain she had clearly suffered. Something told him that he would see a lot more of Jackie!

His deputy's treatment of Millie too had been wholly satisfying. She was, he felt, the nastier of the two, a wicked little thing for sure. Jackie was just impulsive and simply misguided. She was a lovely kid but clearly needed a firm hand. He remembered that the girl's mother was a widow and smiled as he contemplated how he might assist Mrs Gibbs in keeping Jackie on the straight and narrow.

He looked round his office and at the mutilated books which the delinquents had tearfully promised to replace. Now that would take a lot of their pocket money. Any lapses in their weekly installments and...! He smiled with contentment, stretched back in his chair and looked long at a framed sepia photograph of Ewen Podmore, his Victorian predecessor. Was it his imagination or did the eye above the bushy black beard wink at him?

Wasn't that a delightful holiday treat?

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for December 21

Greetings! Our topic this week was holiday stress and spanking. Here's what you said:

Dan: Our activity level always drops. It's not so much visitors, but all the holiday engagements. Office parties for two working parents, parties with work and social friends, etc. It seems like we have something else going on every night.

Jenn: I think the lack of responses today sort of highlights the problem: lack of time. However, I was able to "escape" the holiday madness for two spankings this week. Hope to have more after Christmas. I haven't had much holiday stress yet because I've been in total denial that Christmas is in 5 days! Time to go decorate my tree.

Nina: I am with Jenn, lack of time is the main problem. And this creates stress, which sometimes led to spankings because of bad behaviour or just as an outlet. But all in all we have had less spankings in the week prior Christmas and came back to more spankings right after Christmas eve.

Six of the best: For the last few years, as a single person, I have had no problems, in inviting a mature lady over for a delightful spanking session during the holiday season. After a good meal, with wine to toast, I lead her to my bedroom, where she proceeds to bend over the bed. Then with joyous rapture, I raise her dress waist high, pull down her bloomers, and cane that voluptuous naked rear end of hers. Of course she is wearing garter-belt and stockings at my request. This is usually followed by a sexual encounter.

Leigh: I wish - sadly the answer is no.

Arched one: We won't have company until right after Christmas as they are coming from out of town. There will be a spanking today as she likes to give me football spankings. then a short break while the kids are here then back to presenting my bottom.

Anne: Our daily activity drops, however I do keep track and usually once the holidays are over there is a series of "makeup" sessions that tend to make more than one impression.

Ronnie: Mainly lack of time so less spankings plus having guests around or visiting family during the holiday doesn't help. Spanked for stress relief yes even though I don't feel stressed but P always knows.

Baxter: R and I are taking the week of Christmas Dec 22-26 as vacation and staying at home. so far this weekend, we have had sex twice and she has spanked me twice. So we are off to a great holiday start. We live in the Midwest part of the US and there are no relatives from either side within 1000 miles and no parties to go to or host, so the next seven days are sex and spanking. and of course presents and going out to lunch and more spanking and sex and spanking. How about that?

Dr. Ken: Well, since I don't have a regular play partner, stress doesn't really change things much. It might make me wish I could play more, but since that isn't likely to happen....

Hermione: We don't find the holidays as stressful now as they used to be. We get our shopping done well ahead of time, the menu planned in advance, and I bake goodies at my leisure. This year our family has travelled to visit other relatives so we are free to indulge our spanking whenever we like, without the need to alter our schedule.


Happy Holidays, everyone!

The Big Two Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh

That's right! After nearly seven years of blogging, Hermione's Heart has received 2 million hits. It's taken a while, but I have loved every minute of it.

Thank you, my dear readers, for making this possible. Without you, I wouldn't still be blogging. Your comments, participation and enthusiasm keep me going day after day.

By the way, my blog has been nominated for the Best Spanking Blog (creative) award over at the Chief's Spankingblogg. I'm up against some stiff competition, but if you feel inclined, I invite you to vote for me. If it helps to swing the vote my way, have a piece of cake!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #51

Welcome to our weekly brunch discussion. This is a very busy time of year, so I'm pleased you could join us. Many people find the holiday season stressful, although the reasons may vary.

How does holiday stress affect your spanking activities? Do you limit your OTK time in order to get other things done? Do you have more spankings as a way to relieve stress? Do visitors make it difficult to indulge?

Leave your response as a comment, and once everyone has spoken, I will publish a summary of our discussion.

You Completed the Caption

The holidays bring out the best in my readers, and that includes captions. Enjoy!


sub hub: "Looking over at me carrying the rest of her luggage, Mistress K. was so proud of her pet that she was slightly overcome emotionally."

Leigh: He didn't even offer to carry my luggage.

Six of the best: "Now you can go back to your mother," said her husband. "For she needs a good spanking on her bare bottom, just like I gave you."

Enzo: "Dry your tears, young lady; it was a fair deal and you agreed to it. A spank for every pound over the baggage weight limit and in exchange you get to bring all your luggage," said the porter.
"But I didn't realize so many other passengers would be witnessing me being spanked...[sob] and of all days...the day I wore my black sheer panties!!"

Minelle: "Ouch! He gave me a spanking and insists I sit without my panties to make the message stick!"

Baxter: I am off to see my mom and siblings for the next two weeks without my man. I won't get spanked for two weeks. Oh woe is me, I will have to put up with the blah blah of my family, which is punishment enough, but I would rather the punishment be on my bottom. Two weeks, an eternity. But then I will return home and my man will be there with the tawse. Oh how I love my man.

Sir Wendel: Oh dear, I’ve lost the case with my paddles and canes. Whatever shall I do?

Arched one: I'm so sad he was not here to meet me at the depot. He is going to get such a hard spanking for making me wait.

Ricky: I wonder what she's all steamed up about?

Ronnie: How long do I have to sit here before I get one of these cowboys to notice me?

Hermione: Oh dear, I forgot to pack hubby's favourite paddle. Now how are we  going to ring in the New Year?


Please join us for a special holiday brunch with all the trimmings, coming up next.

Friday FAIL

It's time to do some last minute shopping at Walmart.

I took the subway to avoid the heavy traffic. Next time I'll take the bus.

I hope he's here to shop for a new belt. I hate to think where the other end of that hook is attached.

How quaint!

A quick stop at the coffee counter. I think I've lost my appetite.

Someone had fun in the towel department.

Well, that concludes my shopping expedition.  As usual, it was unconventional.

There's still time to Complete the Caption.

Complete the Caption

For many of us the holiday season is a time to travel, but this young lady doesn't seem pleased at the prospect. Why is she so unhappy?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will issue your boarding passes once everyone has had a chance to contribute.

Last Minute Shopping

If you are still searching for the perfect gift for your spanking partner, look no further. Tommy, one of my regular readers, told me about a present that's sure to please the spanko in your life.

It's the Orvis fly swatter, and according to their website, it's "a conversation piece you'll actually use" although they don't know how we'll use it (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, know what I mean?) This Italian bridle leather flyswatter with a handmade American oak handle can be personalized with the spankee's name, or with a suitable slogan. Order it here if you dare.

Another option is the Sweet Swat extendable fly swatter. I saw this in the gift section of a card shop and when I saw the slogan "Hit the spot every time" above the display, I just had to buy one. The handle just above the white label extends two feet, so no fly—or bottom—is out of reach. They come in a variety of colours, so I chose purple, to match our riding crop. Double ouch! You can order one here.

Brought to Book, part 1

Today's offering is the first part of a rather long but very good story, "Brought to Book", from Kane magazine. The author is not credited, but I assume it was written by the very prolific spanking writer, "Anonymous". There is some offensive language, but it's all part of the plot.

"Look, Mr. Martin, they've done it again!" Miss Lovestock, senior assistant librarian at Sandbourne library, was almost speechless with rage as she waved the books at the Chief Librarian. "Not one, but two this time. And this Leonardo cost us £25!" From her outrage it almost appeared that Alice Lovestock considered the books to be her own. As indeed she did. She was certainly their custodian, and as such took their defacement as a personal affront.

"Just look at this, Mr. Martin." Despite working together in close proximity for six years, Miss Lovestock and Malcolm Martin had never reached the familiarity of first name terms. "Cherubs with beards drawn on them and this Madonna with...with..." she blushed, " well...rude additions. It's not only vandalism, it's sacrilege!"

Her boss sighed. There had been a spate of graffiti among the art books in the reference library, and, despite their best endeavours, they had not yet caught the culprits. They assumed it to be more than one because of the diverse style of the amendments. One person clearly favoured an artistic approach while the other preferred to write rude limericks in the margins. The Chief Librarian had to admit that, despite his natural repugnance at the sheer wanton stupidity of it, there was not only a certain artistic ability but also a semblance of wit about the verses. He read:

The virile Sultan of Algiers,

to all of his wives said, 'My dears,

you may think it odd o' me

but I've given up sodomy,

I'll be fucking tonight!" to loud cheers.

Mr. Martin was not sufficiently versed in this type of poetry to know whether this was original or not. As he leafed through the pages he saw another that very probably was!

A dried up old spinster named Love

does things with the thumb of a glove

pulled over a candle

it's too hot to handle

she says 'Fuck it!' and gives it a shove.

Mr. Martin closed the book hurriedly. He hoped that Miss Lovestock had not seen this particular entry, and she had better not! Really, it was too bad! The culprits would have to be caught and punished before the entire art section was ruined. But who...and how? The obvious suspects were adolescent boys, but one thing puzzled the librarian. The writing was too small, too neat, almost feminine in its formation, while the 'art work', if it could be so described, also had a faintly feminine look about it. Surely not! But it was a possibility. He and Miss Lovestock had concentrated their time and energy in watching suspicious boys. But girls? Was that possible? The difficulty was that due to local government cut-backs they had so little staff for supervision, and there were so many 'blind spots' in the roomy, Victorian-designed reference library.

Not for the first time, Mr. Martin envied his Victorian predecessors. They knew how to deal with vandals in those days. His particular interest was the history of libraries in general, and that of Sandbourne library in particular. He had always savoured that part of the Malicious Damages Act, a worthy piece of Victorian legislation, which unequivocally stated that those found damaging books and other articles in a public library could '...being duly convicted, be liable to be imprisoned for any period not exceeding six months; and, if male, during the period of imprisonment, be put to hard labour, or once, twice or thrice privately whipped, in such a manner as the court shall direct' (Malicious Damages Act, 8 and 9 Victoria, Cap 44).

It was that last bit he liked, 'in such a manner...' Ah what pictures it conjured up! Those were indeed the days! But, he often wondered, why only the males?

Mr. Martin was not a sadistic man, but, like Miss Lovestock, he venerated books and was proud of the condition of his library. His thoughts roved off on a satisfying daydream in which a young Victorian wench, petticoats raised, and frilly drawers lowered, squirmed and howled across the desk of Mr. Podmore, the first librarian at Sandbourne (1880-1902). It was all neatly catalogued in his mind from his researches.

"What can we do, Mr. Martin?" It was Miss Lovestock's voice calling him rudely back to earth.

"Nothing," he replied. "Only keep an extra sharp watch. Something tells me we need to start studying the girls too." He saw her give a start of surprise as the possibility struck her. "Leave the books with me, please." Miss Lovestock gave a grim-lipped smile and returned to the readers' information desk. Girls, indeed! Now why hadn't she thought of that?

* * *

Mr. Martin was still preoccupied with his vandalism problem the next afternoon when he returned from the bank, where he had been paying in the fines and other receipts of the last few days. As he went up the flight of stone steps that led to the library entrance he noticed two schoolgirls on their way in. There was nothing odd about that, girls and boys of all ages used the library on their way home from school, but there was something familiar about one of the girls. She was a well-built brunette, seventeen or maybe eighteen, who filled out her navy blue High School uniform in a manner that was almost erotic. The other girl was smaller, slimmer but blonde and very attractive. Mr. Martin did not know her. It was the taller girl who struck a chord in his memory. And then he remembered. She was the younger sister of Heather Gibbs who used to work in the library. That was it; the resemblance was quite remarkable. Many was the time that Mr. Martin had paused to admire Heather's opulent charms as she shelved books in the lending library, or stood on a stepladder to return them to the higher shelves of a stack. Heather had always been worth a second male glance.

Then came the scandal. Money was missing from the fines box and from petty cash. From the girls' lockers in the staff room too. The police, who had been called in, advised planting a marked five-pound note, and it had vanished, to be found, after a search, in Heather's handbag. Heather had professed her innocence to the last, but the evidence was considered conclusive. Heather had been charged, and at the Magistrates Court had been put on probation for a year. She had, of course, also lost her job at the library, much to the regret of the gentlemen regulars.

Mr. Martin thought that both girls gave him a sharp look as they passed him. His imagination, perhaps, but nevertheless it might be worthwhile to keep an eye on both girls. After all he had no better leads.

From his office, which had once been Ewen Podmore's, he had a partial view into the reference library, and he saw the two girls come in and sit down at a corner table which was flanked by the wall on one side and a press of books on the other. They whispered together and then Heather Gibbs' sister got up and went over to the Fine Art section, and, after a pause for selection, came back to the table with two large illustrated volumes. The Chief Librarian felt his hackles rise. His hunch was paying off!

The books were hidden behind the girls' bodies. They could be doing virtually anything with them, unobserved. However, Mr. Martin knew his library. At that time of the day the room was half empty. Quietly going to the double-sided book stack which flanked the table at which the two were sitting, he very quietly removed a row of books from a shelf at a convenient height to the table top on the other side of it. Martin knew from experience that the case was merely separated, back from front, by a wire mesh rather than by board. Why, he had never discovered, economy perhaps; now he was glad of it.

On the girls' side, as he had hoped, the shelves were not tightly packed with books and he was able to peep through a gap to where the wreckers were seated. His fears were realised. The Gibbs girl was opening one of the books and there was a giggling consultation. Then from out of her pocket she produced a plastic pack of coloured felt-tip pens. The work of Rubens was about to undergo a complete and violent transformation!

"You girls! Stay exactly where you are, and put that pen down! I know who you both are, and if you attempt to run I shall call the police."

The words were not shouted. They were uttered with quiet but compelling clarity, and seemed in some uncanny manner to come from a solid bookcase. Both girls froze and, before they could gather their wits, a coldly furious Mr. Martin was confronting them.

"Follow me to my office!" he commanded, and as the trio, followed by the eyes of several curious readers, passed through the lending library he said to one of the staff who was shelving, "Maureen, will you ask Miss Lovestock to come to my office immediately, please?"

"I-I think she's at tea, Mr. Martin," muttered the assistant.

"Then get her out of tea! This is important!" The Chief Librarian wanted the moral support of his ally, especially where two attractive teenage girls were concerned.

Minutes later, two scared but unabashed young ladies faced the librarian and his assistant across Mr. Martin's desk. The two girls, looking vulnerably innocent in their school uniforms, were attempting to brazen things out.

"We weren't doing anything," said Jackie Gibbs, for such was her name.

"And you can't prove otherwise" added Millie Roberts, her slimmer companion.

"You were caught red-handed trying to deface library property, as you have with seven other books over the last fortnight."

"Bollocks!" said Millie, rudely. "You haven't got any proof. We were just doing coloured sketches for our art homework."

Despite the damage to his beloved books, Mr. Martin wished that he had actually witnessed the girls damaging a colour plate. As it was the evidence was purely circumstantial. It was Miss Lovestock's keen wits that saved the day for the prosecution. While this exchange had been taking place she had quietly left her chief's side, and while all three were occupied, she had been examining Millie's school exercise books in her school case. Suddenly Miss Lovestock turned and slapped a couple of exercise books upon the table, together with one of the library books damaged earlier. It was open at a verse that began:

'A dried up old spinster named Love'

Oh dear, she did see it, thought Martin.

"And that, I suppose, is not your writing?" snapped Miss Lovestock. "Admit it, it's identical!"

After that, it was all over bar the shouting. Shaken, both girls admitted their guilt.

"But why?" asked the perplexed librarian. "What made you do such a dreadful thing?"

"You!" snapped Jackie Gibbs, close to tears, "You and your stinking library. You ruined my sister's life. Do you realise that she has been on the dole since she was sacked from here?"

"I'm sorry," said Martin helplessly, "but..." and he spread his arms in a futile gesture.

"And I'm Jackie's friend," said Millie Roberts, almost gleefully. "What she does, I do!"

Martin looked at her in wonder. Was she quite right in the head? With a sigh he reached for the telephone.

"What are you going to do?" asked Jackie in alarm.

"I'm ringing Mrs. Hennessy, your headmistress at the High School," answered the librarian. "I want to talk the matter over with her before I decide whether to prosecute."

Jackie turned pale. "Please don't do that," she begged, "It's coming up to our 'A' level year. We'll be expelled for sure, and both Mil and I have been promised university places on the strength of our getting good results."

"I'm sorry about that," said Martin," but what else do you expect me to do?"

"Can't we pay for the books?" asked Millie eagerly. Malcolm Martin, a kindly man, hesitated.

"Oh no!" cut in Alice Lovestock. "It's not as easy as that. What about that scurrilous filth you wrote? You realise I can sue you for defamation of character?"

"But that was Millie!" said Jackie, not very loyally.

"Thanks a whole bunch! It was your idea!" snapped her confederate, stung by the betrayal.

"I'm afraid it's no use," said the librarian, making up his mind. "Switchboard, will you get me..."

"Nooooo, please," begged the delinquents loudly, more or less in unison. "Let's talk about this. There must be some way."

"Hilary," said Martin down the phone, "about that call, don't bother. I've changed my mind." He put down the receiver. "Now then..."

"Perhaps we could make reparation," said Millie," Come and work in the library after school or something."

"I wouldn't have you two little vermin anywhere near the place," said Alice Lovestock, cuttingly. It looked like an impasse. Then she spoke again.

"I know what I'd like to do with these wicked little madams!" said Miss Lovestock.

"What's that?" asked the librarian, who was beginning to think that the situation had passed him by. He was never a decisive man in an emergency,which was why, at fifty-two, he was still at Sandbourne rather than a larger library.

"Give them both a jolly good hiding. It's no more than they deserve. It's what I would have got from my parents." As she spoke she remembered the time she had 'borrowed' a pound note from her mother's purse and the hairbrush whacking she had received in consequence. Her hand went to the scrawny arch of her buttocks, as if in remembrance of the smart of it.

The girls' faces turned white. "You're not smacking me!" shrilled Millie.

"Alright then," said Miss Lovestock, "ring Mrs. Hennessy, Mr. Martin, we've wasted enough time."

"No, please wait," said Jackie desperately. "If that's the only way, I-I'd rather have that than the shame of expulsion. Wouldn't you, Mil?"

"Oh I suppose so!" replied Millie, sulkily.

"Very well," said the assistant librarian, who had taken charge of the situation, much to Mr. Martin's dithering relief. "Then I suggest we go down to the library basement where we shall be completely undisturbed, and these two little vandals can yell as loudly as they like!"

"Wh-What are you going to do to us?" gasped Millie, her face ashen.

"Jackie, I suggest Mr. Martin takes you over his knee for a good old-fashioned paternal spanking. As for you, my girl, I am going to thrash your bare bottom with this!" She picked up a three-foot solid wooden ruler from the librarian's desk. "I'll teach you to write filthy poems about me!"

Next week, the naughty girls get their just desserts.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for December 14

Our topic was the new British law banning spanking from websites located in the UK. 

Downunder Don: The law is quite ill conceived and stupidly discriminatory to English producers; it does not affect content produced from other sources.

I suspect it has more to do with politics and is shoring up support from the looney right at a time when the governments popularity is low.

Minelle: I think the law is absolutely ridiculous. Who gets to decide what is bann-able? What next?

Arched one: Some times people in government have way too much time on their hands. But it could create more jobs. I mean if such a law was enforced wouldn't they need a spanking police that would go to different houses and listen to who is being spanked.

Nina: I have heard of it for the first time, and it sounds pretty silly. In fact, some of it seems to be simply discriminating against British producers and I don't understand why showing female ejaculation is banned, if they don't ban the same for males too! This sounds as if somebody has projected some inner fears of theirs on the British people in general.

sub hub: It's always a slippery slope when the Central Authority decides what we can and can't do, see or think about. If for our own good you know. Cuz we aren't even smart enough to know that things are bad for us.

Um, just in case I need to explain, most of that was dripping in sarcasm.

Baxter: Our governments are just simply stupid in what they do. Washington DC is the pit of incompetence in the laws they come up with. In the case of the British spanking law, who was behind (hahahaha) it and why and what incompetent legislator or whatever they are called supported it and how did it ever come up for a vote? In DC they vote on bridges to nowhere, give research grants to explore the sex life of cockroaches. If they would actually deal with tax laws and other hi priority things, it would be good. Oh well, they should all be spanked, repeatedly.

morningstar: Well, being a pretty simple minded person - I am wondering what would stop the British producers from moving their websites from Britain to another country? Is the government going to close the internet borders???

I just think that it is all so unnecessary. And am betting someone will find a way around the law - or over it - or under it. OR... someone with lots of money might even challenge it.

Leigh: No significant impact on me personally. Truthfully, I think government should stay out of things. People, just like nature, will find a way to circumnavigate whatever obstacles are placed in their way; and then there's just one more law on the books.

Ronnie: No impact on me personally. It's an unnecessary and stupid intrusion. I have a short post on this subject.

Underling: It won't affect me, I don't think - but still this law is ill-conceived, unequal, interfering and probably unenforceable - and it's not just kinksters who think so.

While I accept of course that some groups - notably children - need to be protected from the murkier side of the internet and pornography, I'm always uncomfortable with the idea that someone who knows nothing about my (or indeed anyone's) sexual preferences should be able to determine that they need to be clamped down upon.

For me it's all about consent. If it's not there then there's real cause for concern - but if it is, then give consenting adults in a 'free country' the credit they deserve and the freedom to make the erotica they enjoy.

Hermione: To paraphrase what one blogger said, the Brits invented spanking; now they're banning it? I think the law is completely ridiculous, but the worst part is, the acts they have banned are all ones that women derive pleasure from. That in itself says a lot. The impact of this law will be felt financially by many spanking bloggers who are also models, producers or directors of spanking videos, and earn their living from them. I feel for those people.

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #50

Welcome to our 50th spanko brunch. I invite you all to participate in today's topic. Recently the British government declared it illegal for British websites to show videos of spanking and caning. If you were unaware of this, read about it here.

What do you think of this law? How will it affect the online spanking community as a whole? Will it have a significant impact on you personally?

I invite you to leave your opinion as a comment. When everyone has had a chance to speak, I will publish a summary of our discussion.

You Completed the Caption

What did you make of this enchanting scene? Let's see...


arched one: Once we are alone my bottom will be bare and you will be kissing it.

Leigh: I'm in heaven - cheek to cheek and we're not even dancing yet.

Enzo: Awww....pure bliss!

King Marshal: Wonder if I could take this idea to Shark Tank?

Natasha: Now that is a happy, content and lucky man!

Six of the best: The man says, "If I had such a pillow each night of my life, I would hear the angels singing me sweet dreams.

Minelle: "Just a little more to the left. Ahh - the perfect spot!"

Ronnie: A perfect end to a perfect evening.

Baxter: Mmmm, this bottom feels warm, wonder if she was just spanked.

Vfrat25000: Genius…You have your head on one of the Kardashian women…I’m over here!

It happened again…Another guy has managed to accidently super glue himself to a woman’s butt!

I think I can hear the ocean!

Pregnancy is such a miracle of nature!
I’m going to guess you are NOT a Doctor!

Hey Buddy...Get your head off my ass I’m trying to watch the game! This happens every time I dress for Monday Night Football.

Katie: "I'm a little behind in my sleep!"

Hermione: George's narcolepsy attacks happened at the most inopportune times.


Please stay and have brunch with us. We'll be discussing a very important and timely issue in a few hours.

Friday FAIL

It's time once again for my favourite kind of FAIL. You know what I mean. Spelling and grammar errors always bug me, especially the ones on signs.

I can make allowances for the ones scribbled on paper or painted on the back of a cardboard box...

...but these are professional-looking signs made by people who should know better.

There's nothing worse than accidental porn

That seems rather harsh

Until they are kissed by a handsome prince.  Oh, wait, that only works for frogs.

Well, that's some compensation. Finding money is worth getting towed.

Do you need a licence to hunt pedestrians? What a difference a missing comma makes.

Now grab your dictionaries and Complete the Caption.