Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 28

We discussed embarrassing spankings and here's what you said.

Fred Bloggs: I don't think we have ever been embarrassed while spanking in private. However a few times when we have been out and about in public and we have given a playful swat to a butt we have either been seen by a vanilla passer by or one of us just thought that the situation was inappropriate then we get embarrassed.

abby: Embarrassed...no. We have never 'played' in public, I would probably feel 'shy' about that. We have spanked in the great outdoors...but lucky enough to not be interrupted.

Wendel Jones: The Misses was a little embarrassed once after I paddled her bottom just before her parents arrived for dinner. She was slow moving around and slow sitting down. She told her mother it was muscle pain from exercising earlier in the day. Our outdoor spankings are usually in places where it would unlikely to run into anyone. So no worries there.

Bonnie: Getting spanked unleashes a whole bundle of emotions. Embarrassment isn't at the top of that list, but it's buried in there somewhere. I remember a time when Randy and I were upstairs finishing a well-executed spanking. We suddenly became aware of someone banging loudly on our front storm door. We froze. Did they hear us? We don't know, because we didn't answer the door. But at that moment, my face was just as red as my bottom.

Jack: If I could only not have an erection, but no matter what, once my underpants are pulled down, out popped my penis. I'm reminded with a smile that it will be gone shortly. If I really messed up I must go to the bedroom, undress, hands on head and wait. When my "mommie" finally comes she hands me a towel, and I must kneel and masturbate for her, knowing that the spanking will hurt from the first spank. I do not understand females, but I do know this, when "mommie" tells me I'm getting a spanking I do as told and as quick as possible. Erections don't even matter to her, it is the spanking.

Anon 1: An ex-spankee was once in a hotel, when she saw a smirk from a housemaid who she suspects heard part of a hard, long, mainly hairbrush spanking. We, of course, do not know if she was correct, and I was still in the room when she passed the housemaid in the hall. I had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign out during otk and it was normal cleaning hours as we took late checkout.

We had ESPN on at a fairly loud volume, but we likely were among the few rooms occupied mid-morning Sunday.

Ex-spankee was also embarrassed the first day we met, as ten minutes after leaving, she went to add gas for drive home, and started rubbing outside and quickly caught herself and stopped!

Yorkie: No, but I came close once. The day after a night session (when the kids were younger we’d wait until we knew they’d be asleep) our eldest said something about a clapping noise last night. We just mumbled “don’t worry about it” and the matter was dropped...

Roz: I can't say I have been embarrassed as such, but there have been a couple of spankings that have felt a tad awkward such as our first 'real' spanking when we started dd. We had been spanking for fun previously but the first dd spanking was a little awkward for both of us as the emotions etc behind it was so different and I don't think either of us were quite sure how to proceed that first time.

Peter: A few years ago Anna and I spent a weekend with friends at resort. That evening Anna took my belt from my jeans and ordered me to bend over a chair. She gave me a hard long spanking and towards the end, I let out a loud plea " Please stop!" and broke into tears.

The next days our wives played tennis, we were sitting on bleachers watching them. I guess I sat down too cautiously because my friend leaned over and said" Can I get you a pillow to sit on? It sounded like you had a rough night.!" He chuckled and smiled. " Don't worry only I heard you last nite, my wife was asleep."

KDPierre: We live a DD lifestyle openly. As such, it is not unusual for a spanking to occur within hearing (though behind closed doors) of members of our household. It is very difficult to be led to our room with an open proclamation from Rosa about what is going to happen and then have people be able to hear it. Emerging from the room afterwards is very embarrassing even though no one has ever made a big deal about it.

Anon 2: As a result of a really stupid thing on my part my GF invited a couple of her friends to witness my punishment. I was blindfolded and stripped before they arrived then put over Cs' lap. To this day I am not sure who they were, no talking just giggling and laughing. It was a real spanking that I will never forget nor will the spectators.

Rosco: Irene likes to make me look at my red bottom in the mirror, teasing me all the while. And she’ll take me shopping or to a restaurant when my bottom is burning up.

We both fantasize about her spanking me in front of other women/girls and how embarrassing it would be - but we don’t seem to know anybody we’d like to share with, so it’s unlikely to happen.

Hermione: Sometimes I feel embarrassed when I have to bare my bottom and bend over. I feel silly needing this sort of attention, and wonder if Ron thinks I am being foolish. But those feelings quickly evaporate as my bottom heats up.

I hope that wasn't too embarrassing for you!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #276

Welcome one and all to another spanko brunch, when we have a chance to discuss topics related to spanking. Sometimes I am quite happy to be spanked, while at other times, not so much. Let's talk about one of the reasons you and I might not be comfortable with a spanking.

Have you ever felt embarrassed while either giving or receiving a spanking? What was the reason for the embarrassment? 

Please feel free to join the conversation. Leave your thoughts as a comment, and I will publish an edited summary of our discussion once everyone has had a chance to speak.

From the Top Shelf - Sally's Mom, part 3

Last week we left a very aroused Tommy after Sally described the way her mother spanked her. Remember? If not, reread it here. Will Tommy ever get to see Sally be spanked? Will he be spanked too? Read on and find out.

"Did my talking about mother’s spanking do that?” She looked me in the eye with a knowing smirk. “You’re a wicked boy. You should get one of mother’s spankings too, then you’d see.”

Little did she know how that last comment hit home. Now, I know this is crazy, but after that I was actually curious. I wondered what it would feel like. I mean, first there was Mrs. Jamison herself. I could get aroused just being in the same room with her, and now that she’d started these flirtations with me, she was beginning to figure more and more in my sex fueled daydreams. Then there was the whole spanking thing. It sounded so intimate. On other occasions Sally described spankings to me that were dished out when they were all younger. These were all pants down affairs, but Sally said mother had just used her hand. I immediately speculated as to what that might be like. Any time she touched me I got a charge, like electricity. So, imagining her palm smacking my bare butt was an arousing thought.

Little did I know I was about to have all my questions answered.

It happened at a party. Spring had arrived and one of my friends announced a get together in a nearby state park. I picked Sally up as usual and away we went, with the admonishment that we be home by midnight. Now one thing that was strictly forbidden in the Jamison household was alcohol. Any experimentation with alcohol was without question a spanking offense. Sally’s mom had made that clear. I had a beer every now and then when a buddy of mine would get his hands on a case, but that was about it. The county was dry anyway. So we were surprised to find that the party was, in reality, a keg party with a real beer keg in a tub of ice and a roaring bonfire.

Sally didn’t want any part of it. She tugged on my sleeve and said, “Tommy, let’s go.”

I was sorely disappointed. Surely we could stay for a while. I told Sally she didn’t have to drink it, so what was the problem? It looked like a fun time. I continued to ignore Sally’s pleas, thinking we’d stay just for a while then beat it. But it was a few minutes too long. County sheriff’s cars pulled in with searchlights blazing. We were all busted. They arrested the organizers but anyone just standing around with no beer in their hand, they just took their name and told them to go home. I’ll never forget the look of dismay on Sally’s face when the deputy said, “We’ll be calling your parents Miss Jamison, so you go on home now.” It seems the deputy went to Sally’s church and knew her family.

We were a glum pair as I pulled into the driveway. Sally had been fidgeting nervously all the way home.

“Relax, you didn’t do anything,” I said. “Your mom has to understand that.” But underneath I was fearful for what Sally faced at home.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “All mom will care about was that I was at a party where there was beer.” She turned to me with tears in her eyes. “I’m really going to get it this time.”

I resolved that I’d do whatever I could to shield Sally. It was my fault anyway. Surely Mrs. Jamison would see it that way.

My worst fears came true when we arrived. The deputy’s call had come through. Mrs. Jamison was standing on the porch and she looked furious. Her arms were folded across her chest and her foot was tapping as we came up the steps to the house.

“Well Sally Ellen Jamison, just what do you have to say for yourself?” Her nostrils flared as she breathed. It looked as though she could barely contain herself.

“Momma, it’s not what you think. I didn’t have any beer or anything. We were just about to leave.”

Evelyn Jamison stood stony faced as Sally pleaded her case. It was going nowhere. Then I chimed in.

“It’s true Mrs. Jamison. Sally didn’t drink any beer. We were just there – and I didn’t know there would be beer. No idea at all.” The last part wasn’t entirely true. I’d had an inkling of what type of party it was going to be. It didn’t matter. She cut me off.

“Sally Ellen, you go straight to your room and get your little self ready. You know what you have coming.” Sally let out a pathetic wail and burst into tears. “As for you, Tommy Flanders. You are forbidden to see my daughter again.” She pointed down the driveway. “Go!”

“No! No! Wait,” I said. This was a catastrophe. I could not leave it this way. Sally ran inside. I heard her shoes thumping up the stairs to her room. I turned to Mrs. Jamison. “Please, let me explain,” I said.

“There is nothing to explain, young man. Sally went to a party where alcohol was present. She knows full well that is strictly forbidden in this family and she knows the penalty.”

“Please don’t,” I said. “You can’t punish Sally. I’m the one who ought to be punished.”

Everything stopped. She looked at me with raised eyebrows. Something I’d said had struck a chord. She cocked her head, like she was considering an idea. “You know how Sally is punished.” It wasn’t a question the way she phrased it.

“Yes, I know. She told me.”

“Do you think you should get the same?” she said.

“I…I don’t know. I only know Sally should not be punished. It’s my fault. I sort of suspected what was going to be at the party and I took her there anyway.” Now I was admitting to a fib as well.

“A minute ago you said you had no idea there would be beer there. So on top of the rest, you just lied to me.”

I blushed red. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. You’ve got to let me see Sally again.”
“You never answered my question, young man. Do you think you should get the same treatment as Sally?”

I froze. A cold chill went up my spine as I thought about her question. Was she serious? Mrs. Jamison’s eyes bored into mine. It was like she could see through me. “I’ll do anything if I can still see Sally,” I said.

“We’ll see,” she said. She went to the front door and motioned for me to come in. “If you want to see Sally again you will do exactly as I say.” She came in and crooked her finger, indicating that I was to follow. She led me to the parlor and told me to sit down. “I’m going upstairs now to punish Sally…” I started to protest, but she held her palm up. “You just wait right here. Afterwards we will discuss your behavior and what it will take for you to continue to see my daughter.”

She turned and walked out of the room. I heard her tread on the steps as she went upstairs. I could only imagine how Sally felt at that moment. As I waited, I noticed something. We were alone in the house, Sally, her mom, and I. The two younger brothers and Sally’s sister were somewhere else. The significance of this fact would become apparent later. For a time the house was still. All I heard was the ticking of the big grandfather clock in the foyer. Then I heard voices. Sally was being scolded. “I told you never to go to that kind of party,” I heard her mom say. Then: “Please, I didn’t know… (followed by crying)” from Sally. Mrs. Jamison’s voice again: “Stand up, Sally and take down your panties … right now!” From Sally: “No, mom, no!”

It occurred to me that the bedroom door had been left open deliberately so that I could hear. And I heard plenty. For the next several minutes the sounds of hard wood striking bare flesh echoed through the house. This was interspersed with the sounds of scolding and Sally’s heart wrenching sobs. I felt truly sorry for her, and it was all my fault. How was I ever going to make it up to her?

Smack! “Ow, momma!” Crack! “Wahhh!” Whap! “Nhhh…please, momma!” I heard it clearly and so I had this mental picture in my head of Mrs. Jamison seated on the bed with Sally prostrate over her lap, bare bottom cocked up, the paddle raised to shoulder height then speeding to its fleshy target in a blur, the resulting crack and the wail of distress. In my mind’s eye Sally wriggled, thumping her legs on the bed or maybe waving them in the air. God help me, I was getting hard visualizing the scene.

It continued for several long minutes before it finally stopped. There were voices now, but they were softer. I couldn’t hear what was being said. I imagined it was something along the lines of “you will never do that again.” A door shut. Footsteps announced that someone was descending the stairs. Mrs. Jamison appeared in the parlor door. In her hand was an oblong paddle, about a foot long, four inches wide.

She motioned to be with her finger. “Come with me, Tommy. We have to have a talk.”

So the answer to my first question above is no, Tommy doesn't actually see Sally over her mother's knee. But a possible 'yes' to the second one. Next week we'll join Tommy and Sally's mom for that 'talk'.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 21

What is your experience with outdoor spanking?

Fred Bloggs: Most definitely. There is a walk along a river, not far from home. Just off the path is a farm gate. I have restrained my companion to this gate, bared her bottom and spanked her. I snapped a switch from a bush as an implement. Although the path is public it is realy used and only once were we nearly caught. But that is part of the fun.

Rick: You bet I have, several times in fact!! When a girl is naughty and resorts to dares; well, in such circumstances the location matters little!!

Happy Easter!!

Roz: Yes we have had a few outdoor spankings over the years in different secluded spots. It definitely heightens the excitement with the risk of being caught.

Willie: Happy Easter! (Unfortunately if we were to hide eggs here outside this weekend they'd require some sort of flotation device).

I can't say I have been spanked in the open outdoors. I have been spanked in a tent a couple of times. LOL.


Barrel: Yes, while on a hike in Northeastern Arizona. I cut a switch from a willow tree and asked to be spanked. My wife whipped me hard, leaving nice welts. When she was finished, I leaned the switch up against a sturdy tree as we left to continue our hike. We returned a year later and took the same hike, and sure enough, the switch was still there. It was brittle and we couldn’t repeat the prior years whipping, but what fond memories it brought back.

Great topic. Thanks and Happy Easter!


Amy: Eric and I love the outdoors and everything that we do inside, takes on a magical thrill to it when done outdoors. I've been smacked hiking up a trail or walking down the sidewalk; quick little reminders or a sexy indication that he wants to play. Got the belt up against a wood pile many years ago - probably a huge fantasy from a decade of watching Little House on the Prairie. We want more. Someday, when the man quits traveling so much.

Yorkie: If it was up to me only, I’d make sure I was spanked ANYWHERE I could be!

Hermione: The only safe place for an outdoor spanking at home is our garden shed, and it's currently partially under water. There is a place that I think would be perfect for that activity, although we haven't tried it yet. It's a lovely wooded hill, about 30 minutes' drive away, that overlooks a picturesque village. We have often gone there to admire the fall colours. There are trails through the woods and plenty of fallen trees for a quick spanking, as well as the picnic tables in the clearing at the top. Maybe someday!

Happy Easter and Joyous Passover!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #275

This year the beginning of Passover coincides with Holy Week, and that includes searching for either matzohs or eggs, depending on your faith. The Easter egg search is often conducted outdoors, weather permitting, and that makes today's topic came from Wendel Jones, a regular reader and enthusiastic creator of captions, very timely.

Have you ever tried spanking outdoors?  If you have what was the experience like? Would you try it again?  Is an outdoor spanking something you would you consider trying?

Please leave your response as a comment, and after all the chocolate eggs have been consumed I will publish an edited summary of our discussion.

Friday FAIL

Judge Judy was right!

 

Judge Judy's sentence would be six of the best for everyone!

From the Top Shelf - Sally's Mom, part 2

Let's continue with Rollin Hand's short story, "Sally's Mom". We met her last week, and she certainly seems like a no-nonsense woman.

There were two things that happened gradually, but they both proceeded in parallel. First, Sally and I became an item. We studied together, lunched together, and went out on more dates. Naturally our feelings for each other began to grow, and our relationship took on a physical aspect. The local lovers’ lane became our go to spot after a movie or a party. But this was the 1960’s and while my hands were allowed to roam freely, I could not get farther than third base. That was still pretty good. I got very good with my hands. Seems I had the right touch, and I learned how to bring Sally to a nice climax while she bucked and groaned, thrashing all around in the back seat of my old hand-me-down Pontiac. She, in turn, learned how to stroke my shaft and to arrive at just the right time with the tissue for my explosive ejaculations. We had talked and we were working up to doing it to each other the French way -- with our mouths and tongues, but so far not yet. I think she was afraid it would turn into IT, the real thing, and still the big no-no.

The other thing was Mrs. Jamison. She became very friendly. Soon I was being invited over for dinner, family picnics, major holidays – those sorts of things. It was like being assimilated into the family. Plus, I sensed she seemed to be flirting with me. She still gave me the eye, but now it was with a smile that was almost of the come-hither type. Sometimes she greeted me in clothing that seemed intentionally provocative. One time she was wearing a bathrobe that parted accidentally (?) giving me a real eyeful. Once I came calling only to find that Sally was out shopping. Mrs. Jamison asked me in. My eyes almost popped out because she wore a bikini that was for its time, pretty skimpy. She had me come into the back yard and put suntan lotion on her back. I think I was hard as a rock by the time I’d finished running my hands all over her body.

“Ummm, you have nice hands, Tommy,” she said. I nearly lost it.

She’d touch me when she spoke to me. It was just a hand on my arm or wrist at first, but then it graduated. On more than one occasion she actually patted me on the butt. She made sure nobody saw it. It was just an affectionate gesture, but I could sense something else happening.

Then came the night Sally opened up about family discipline. We had parked and my hands had started to roam when Sally said, “Ow. Please go easy.” I had just cupped her rounded bottom and was rubbing both cheeks all over with my hands. “I’m still sore back there,” she said. I asked her what had happened. She let out a big sigh and said, “Mother spanked me.” And she proceeded to tell me all about it.

“It started out over nothing. I wanted to go to the library to study with Corrine for Mr. Hall’s class. Mother did not want me going out. She said we were going to Wednesday night services.”

I knew the church they attended had services every time you turned around, and that it was getting to be a source of irritation for her the older she got.

“So I stamped my foot and said something like how I hated the damn services. Mother got her dander up and told me I was going, like it or not and to mind my language. Things got pretty heated from there and I called her a hateful bitch at one point.”

I knew that wasn’t good. Mrs. Jamison did not tolerate that kind of back talk and bad language.

“So I stormed out and stomped up to my room. Later, it was time and we piled in the car and went. Nobody said another word. I thought it was over, but when we got back, she told everyone to go upstairs and get ready for bed. But to me she said, ‘Sally, put on your PJ’s and fetch the paddle. I’ll be waiting for you in the parlor’. All my apologies and protesting did me no good at all. I was going to get spanked and that’s all there was to it. My sister shook her head. My brothers snickered and mom threatened them with the same if they didn’t move it and go upstairs.”

Then Sally recounted the shameful preparation. She took her clothes off and put on these skimpy PJ’s. “I wondered if I should put panties on underneath, but I don’t usually wear them. And anyway,” she admitted, “they would just come down.”

This was the first time she’d talked about this to me. I knew if we’d had some light in the car, I’d see her blushing. “So you get it on the bare?” I said.

“Yeah. Almost always.”

“Then what?” I don’t know if she realized it, but this was getting me excited. I could see her in my mind’s eye, trooping downstairs holding the paddle in her hand.

She gave out a big sigh. “I came downstairs and there was mother. She was sitting upright on the sofa, just waiting. She held out her hand for the paddle and I handed it to her. Then, while I stood in front of her, she launched into this lecture about respect and my attitude and everything. Finally she told me to pull my PJ pants down and get across her knee. I hate that part. It makes me feel so juvenile. It’s like I was ten years old.”

“Was it pretty bad?”

“It hurt. It always hurts. It’s this really intense sting that just gets worse and worse till you can’t stand it. You squall like a baby in the end, no matter what you do. It’s awful. And she’s talking, giving you this lecture while she spanks. It’s five or six swats on the behind, then she scolds, then five or six more swats. Your behind feels like it’s on fire and you can’t stop it.”

I had this vision of what that must look like, her bottom upended over her mom’s knee, panties down exposing that cute bare fanny of hers, and that paddle flashing up and down, landing with loud cracks that made her wriggle and kick her legs. My erection was in blue steel mode.

“She paddles until you cry, and this time was no exception. After that I had to kneel in the corner for half an hour. Then I got to get up, pull my pants back up and take the paddle back. It hangs on a hook in her bedroom.”

“Wow,” I said. “That sounds pretty bad. It must be really embarrassing too.”

“It’s awful. You just can’t believe what one of mom’s spankings is like till you get one. She spanks hard and long and it doesn’t stop until you’ve been really punished and are crying. So now you know. And that’s why I’m still tender back there, so rub me easy, ok? I still like the way you touch me,” she added. Then her hand unzipped me and slipped inside my chinos. “My, oh, my,” she said. “What’s happened to you? Did my talking about mother’s spanking do that?” She looked me in the eye with a knowing smirk. “You’re a wicked boy. You should get one of mother’s spankings too, then you’d see.”

Will our narrator find out what mother's spankings are like? Wait and see!

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 14

What is your oldest implement, or the one you have had the longest?

Wendel: The first implement we bought was a paddle. Got it from a highway gift shop we stopped at heading to the Smokey Mountains. Says “For best results apply to bare bottom”. I carried it up the mountain trail and when we reached the end of the trail and sure no one was around I took it out and paddled the Misses’ bare bottom as recommended. She said her bottom was so sore it was difficult to pull her pants back up. The paddle did its job and it has been a favorite ever since.

Yorkie: They’re all the same age - about 8 years old.

Roz: I think our oldest implement is a leather paddle, followed by a wooden spoon which is more like a paddle. Probably 8 to 10 years old and neither get much use nowadays.

Simon: My Mistress has a wooden spoon with a skull and crossbones painted on it. She has had it since I met her so it's at least 25 years old and still imparts a hell of a sting. She used to have a crop with a leather head shaped and painted like a cat which she really liked but then, inevitably, she broke it across my bottom. Despite me pointing out that it was at least 15 years old she blamed me and I received quite a thrashing for breaking it.

Devlin:I call my oldest implement the Erica Belt, because it's the one I used on Erica Scott in the Shadow Lane video "Stand Corrected" fifteen years or so ago. I bought the belt at a department store in Minneapolis in the mid-80s, which was about the time Shadow Lane was coming of age as a spanking publication powerhouse. Three or four years ago, I finally retired the Erica Belt as a fashion accessory and got a new one to adorn my trousers. It, too, I have used to spank girls' bottoms. But the vintage Italian leather holds an honored place, draped over the inside bedroom doorknob, and, on occasion, I will send a naughty young lady, her bottom already bare and warm from a hand spanking, there to fetch it. I have it on good authority that the belt has lost none of its sting over the decades, and my girls look on it with a mixture of fear, yearning, and, I like to think, reverence.

Barrel: Our oldest implement we have is a 24”, black riding crop I bought at a tack shop 37 years ago. It was has been employed regularly over the years to the extent that the leather on the business end is fraying. While still in service, my wife prefers the hairbrush or hard plastic paddle over her knee before intimate moments. We seem to have graduated to a heavy strap I built from a luggage shoulder strap and two delrin canes for extended sessions.

Bonnie: Our oldest implement is also one of our first. Not long after Randy and I began experimenting with spankings, I shared my wooden sorority paddle. For a while, that paddle and my hairbrush were our only implements. Despite years of vigorous application, that paddle never split and is still in service.

QBuzz: A leather belt that I have owned since I was a teenager and therefore has the distinction of having being used on (and by) all of my partners who were into spanking!

Ronnie: A Christmas paddle was one of the first real implements we had followed by the Rose Leather paddle. We still have both. The rose paddle is still in use, thankfully the Christmas paddle only once a year.

Hermione: I've had the dressage whip for over 40 years, from when I competed in dressage. But our oldest implement is probably an antique ivory hairbrush that I found in a thrift shop. I can't estimate its age, but it's probably at least 100 years old, and still very durable!

That was quite a trip down memory lane!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #274

It's the weekend, and that means it's time for another friendly discussion. This topic occurred to me as I was dusting our extensive collection of spanking implements.

What is the oldest implement you own, in terms of chronological age? What implement have you had the longest? Are they one and the same, or two different implements? Is either one still in regular use?

Please join the conversation by leaving a comment, and after everyone has had a chance to speak, I will publish an edited summary of our discussion.

You Completed the Caption

KDPirre: In order to keep her clothes paint-free, Hilda had considered wearing nothing at all....but then, realizing where her red wiping rag would then have to be tucked, decided to just go with a bikini.

QBuzz: It looks like you missed a spot darling, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you a good spanking out here where all the neighbours can see!

NoraJean: I know what Frank, the professional painter would say: "Your ladder safety is appalling, Miss Hilda. If you don't get down and back up properly, I might have to make it so the colour of your bum matches your paint rag."

Spanky53: Well, I hope I'm getting my bottom painted red later...with a different kind of brush.

EsMay: My Dear, that is just too dangerous a position for you to be maintaining. But, since you've put yourself into this position, let me grab that little towel from your behind, give it a little rinsing from the hose, and see how well you can stay in place while I redden those white cheeks with a damp towel. 50 strokes, shall we?

Ronnie: Hilda said to herself, if this doesn't get me spanked today, then nothing will.


Wendel: Hilda knew that if she colored out of the lines it would mean the paddle later.

Hermione: I'm so high up, he'll never be able to reach my bottom with that little paddle!

Complete the Caption

Our friend Hilda is hard at work painting. What will be her reward for all her hard work?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your suggestions on Saturday.

From the Top Shelf - Sally's Mom, part 1

Those of you who enjoy both M/F and F/M spanking are in for a real treat, because this story has some of each. "Sally's Mom" is from Rollin Hand's collection of spanking stories, Women in Charge, and it's a very hot tale! Here is part one:

Sally’s Mom

Every boy has that one experience – that coming of age wake-up call – that WOW moment. Mine came when I was nineteen, which they say is the peak of a young man’s sexual potency. They may just be right.

Back in the 1960’s I attended a junior college in rural southwestern Virginia. My family had moved there from the DC area because of a job opportunity for my father. I hadn’t been crazy about it, and for good reason. The town was rock solid bible belt conservative in terms of culture. Being from the hip environs of Washington DC, I felt like a fish out of water in a social milieu of church bake sales and barn dances.

It wasn’t all bad. There was this really cute girl in one of my classes by the name of Sally Jamison. Sally was a vision with her long silky reddish hair and green eyes. She dressed conservatively, but I could tell that underneath the modest dresses there was a stunning figure. She was a shy girl and it took me a while to form even a casual friendship with her. At first she shied away from my attempts to strike up casual conversations, but I was persistent. I couldn’t help it. She was so sweet and appealing that I felt like I had to get to know her. Gradually she began to talk to me. We ate lunch at the student center and discussed our classes. I walked with her to class. After six weeks of just chit-chat I asked her if she’d like to go to a movie. To my delight she said yes. I said I’d pick her up at her house.

It’s always a little nerve wracking meeting the parents for the first time. You always wonder, will they like you? Will they disapprove? Are they strict? What rules will they lay down? I thought about these things as I approached Sally’s house to pick her up that first time. I went through my rehearsed “parent speech” and figured I was ready. What I was not ready for was Mrs. Jamison.

Her name was Evelyn and she was a knockout. She couldn’t have been very old, early 40’s at the most. I decided she must have married young. As I said, Sally was cute, but her mother was something else. I tried not to gape as she ushered me in. Tall, with broad shoulders and a full bust, she moved with a lithe grace in tight Capri pants that outlined a voluptuous figure. Today our notions of beauty tend toward thin and athletic body styles, but back then it was curves and abundance. Jane Russell, Jayne Mansfield, Marilyn Monroe – those were our sex bomb icons. And that was Mrs. Jamison – glamorous and larger than life. In a few years that figure would tend toward matronly, but not today. She was the only parent in the house because Master Sergeant Jamison, her husband, was overseas.

She looked me up and down and let me sweat for a minute before she said, “You look like a nice young man. Sally will be out in a minute. Come on into the living room and let’s talk.”

I followed the sway of those ample hips as she led the way into the living room and motioned for me to sit. Then came the usual third degree. Where was home, who were my folks, what was I studying, what are my interests, do I attend church, etc? I think I managed to navigate all this, but I was running out of material. Miraculously, Sally saved the day by bounding down the stairs.

Then the conversation turned into ‘where were we going?’ and ‘who would we be with?’ The answers seemed to be satisfactory, so the cross examination finally ended and we were on our way. All the while I noticed that Sally seemed cowed by her mother. There was none of that teenage mother-daughter arguing that would seem so common to me later on in life. It was all ‘yes, mother’ and ‘no, mother.’ No, it was clear Evelyn Jamison ruled the roost and her offspring obeyed the rules. It was her intensity, I think -- an air of absolute authority. The way those eyes bored into yours told you she was always in charge and rebellion would be quickly and unmercifully quashed. It unnerved me as I observed how Sally was so polite and deferential to her mother.

That very evening I got an idea of how Mrs. Jamison was able to impose her will so absolutely and ensure such strict obedience. We had just come out of the movie theater. I suggested we go to a local soda shop and talk for a while. I could tell Sally wanted to. She gnawed her lower lip and looked around. “What time is it?” she said. I told her we had time before her curfew and anyway, what if she was a few minutes late? What was the big deal?

She went pale. “You don’t understand,” she said. “Mother is very strict.” Then she proceeded to tell me that hers was a strictly religious family and they followed biblical principles. Mother mostly ran the house because her dad was gone a lot. He was in the Army and was stationed in Korea at present, so mom was the sole authority. “If I disobey, even just a little, I get punished,” she said.

“What?” I said, “You get grounded?”

She blushed. “Um…yes,” she stammered as if the question conjured up something shameful. “And worse,” she added. Clearly, this was an uncomfortable subject.

That was a curious response. I wondered what ‘worse’ might entail. I knew Sally had an older sister who lived at home and two younger brothers in their early teens. I tried to imagine what the discipline regime in a household like that might be like. I did not want to probe. After all, we were just getting to know each other, but I was certainly curious.

I took her straight home. Sally was clearly anxious to get in by her curfew, and we made it by half an hour. Still, Mrs. Jamison met us at the door (no goodnight kiss, darn it), and made a show of looking at her watch.

That night I replayed the evening in my head and tried to understand the Jamison’s better. Ok, they were staunchly religious just like many families in Southwestern Virginia. That wasn’t unusual. Ok, Sally’s dad was military and her mom clearly authoritarian. So what made Sally so afraid of bending a rule?

The next time I called on Sally, I found out. There was some tension that I could sense as Mrs. Jamison ushered me in. I was led into the parlor to wait for Sally and what should I see but Fran, Sally’s older sister, kneeling in a corner facing the wall. On the coffee table there was a paddle. It was about a foot long and highly varnished. The edges were all rounded and beveled and the handle was wrapped in tape. It looked well used. Sally’s mother noted my surprise and casually said, “Sally will be down in a minute, then Fran and I can tend to our business – isn’t that right Fran?”

I heard a muffled “Yes, mother,” from Fran. I was stunned. Fran was probably twenty. She was still being punished with a paddle? This maybe explained Sally’s nervousness from our previous date.

Sally confirmed it. “Fran will be absolutely mortified that you saw that,” she said as we hurried down the front steps. I kept looking back as if I might catch a glimpse of the action through the window.

I asked what had happened.

“She and mother got into an argument and she sassed mother. She even used foul language. Mother absolutely won’t stand for that, so she sent Fran to fetch the spanking paddle. I’m afraid she is in for a hot time.”

My next question was obvious, and I think Sally knew it was coming. “So do you get paddled too?”

Sally blushed beet red. “Yes. We all do.” Then she grabbed my sleeve and added, “Please don’t tell anyone. Please?”

Strangely, I was not horrified, I was fascinated. I wanted to know all about it. Where I grew up, spankings were not all that common. I had known a few kids who got it, mostly the kids whose families were sort of blue collar. I remember hearing stories of memorable lickings, sometimes third hand and obviously embellished, but sometimes from the unfortunate recipient of parental wrath.

I started asking her for details. How does she do it? What is the kneeling in the corner all about? How many do you get? And the most important of all—what do you wear? Or is it on the bare?

But the topic made Sally uncomfortable. “Can we talk about something else?” I said ‘sure’ and the subject was dropped. But the fascination remained. I wanted to know all about the disciplinary practices of the Jamison family. Mostly I wanted to know all about Sally’s lickings. In my mind’s eye I saw her, bottom up, skirt furled back, maybe even panties slipped down to her knees while a determined Mrs. Jamison delivered smack after smack to her shapely derriere. Or maybe she’d be turned over her momma’s knee, skirts up and panties dangling at her knees. The thought gave me a ferocious woody.

I'll bet you are all wondering too. I'm afraid you will have to wait until next week to find out out if our narrator's imaginings are close to the real thing.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 7

Do you ever test your limits?

Barrel: LOL, great and timely question as my wife and I are planning a session today or tomorrow that will push our limits. Our limits are primarily hers as she backs off sooner than I am at my limit due to my moaning. We have discussed and agreed I want to go deeper and she wants to help us go there.

Obviously communication is one key. The second is her recognizing the cleansing and relief I get after being severely thrashed. Finally, she is growing in her enjoyment of the actual strapping and caning. I am looking forward to broader limits.

Yorkie: I am always wanting to push limits but mine are way higher than my wife’s so I don’t think I will ever get close to my limit. Having said that, we played last weekend for the first time in about six or seven months and I have to admit, I had tears in my eyes and thought seriously about calling it off at times but I stuck it out and ended up doing what I always do - calling time to save my wife from getting bored.

I’d say that was the hardest spanking I’ve ever had only because it was a while between drinks and my pain tolerance was down a bit (I think). I had marks and redness but no bruising and they didn’t last a day either but surprise surprise, I want another one just like it.

Roz: This is a great question Hermione. I can't say we have tested the limits as such and since we haven't practised ttwd for so long now I think any spanking action would be more a gentle re-start.


Rosco: Yes, in a couple of ways.

We’ve tried numerous implements and presently have 5 or 6 on hand. The carpet beater was too much, as were some of the switches I’ve cut from time to time.

As for longevity, a lovemaking session usually involves 2 or 3 spankings spread out over half hour or so. But sometimes I crave more and feel she’s in the mood to dish it out as well. So I’ll act out a bit - it’s as easy as telling her I don’t deserve to be spanked.

I feel like I could be spanked forever- I just love that edge of pain and pleasure. But my bottom is tender for the proverbial week after, which is not always so sexy.

Bonnie: My first thought was, no, our spankings today are nowhere near the intensity of those we enjoyed two or three decades ago. With aging and the passage of time, it doesn't require as much to get us where we need to be.

On the other hand, limits can be fluid. We can discover limits today that might have constituted a routine spanking in years past. It's an ongoing negotiation between loving partners who know each other well. May it always be so.

Anon: Mine are punishment spankings and so she has tested the limit when I've messed up and knows when to stop. I wish for it to stop sooner, but I'm not the one doing the spanking.


Hermione: Once in a while, Ron will use one of the nasty implements, and I have to admit, I make my displeasure known. There are a few, made of delrin, that are really too much, no matter how numb my bottom is from other implements.

Thank you for your frankness on this subject!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #273

Welcome to another weekend discussion. Our topic today is one that was first discussed by Bonnie's readers in 2008, and it's high time we talked about it again, so here goes.

Have you and your partner ever tested limits in terms of spanking? If so, what approach did you use it and what were the results? Would you test limits again? If you have not tested limits, would you ever consider doing so? Why or why not?

To add your thoughts on the subject, leave a comment below. I will publish an edited summary of our discussion once everyone has had an opportunity to speak.

Friday FAIL

Some product instructions that will make you shake your head and reach for the paddle.

This one I agree with

 I give up!

 Think I'll take aspirin instead.

 "Keep on believin...♫♬♫♬"

 

I'm not hungry any more.

Is this for cooking or for oiling squeaky hinges?

Happy Friday!

From the Top Shelf - Sweet Dreams

This extract is from a novel called Sweet Dreams and is a classic Richard Manton plot of a rich adventurer who, doing a favour for a friend who must travel abroad, reluctantly leaves his home in Paris to live in an English country home as mentor and guardian of two beautiful and headstrong teenage sisters, Sharon, the elder, and Victoria. (Wouldn't you love to find a job like this!) Needless to say both these young ladies are in need of strict discipline and our hero and narrator, oh so sadly of course, feels the need to attend to their bare bottoms. The first to suffer, after disobeying an instruction, is 18-year-old Sharon who has just returned from horse riding to find her guardian waiting for her.

"Presently I was alone with Sharon. She stood before me in her singlet and jeans, the veil of brown hair freshly combed and settled on her shoulders, the careless fringe of it on her forehead and the sweep of it framing the firm pale oval of her face. She stood there with arms folded, her expression suggesting that, though she would not resist me, she would do nothing to assist in her own punishment. A girl of eighteen has at least that much pride.

I turned to the cupboard, taking out the slim black switch and the rather frayed cord of the horsewhip. She stared at them, still unable to comprehend the degree of torment they may inflict upon her. At the centre of the room was a heavy oblong table of dark wood.

"Go over and stand facing the table, Sharon," I said quietly.

She turned and walked slowly across, still with her arms folded as if to show her indifference. I promised myself that she would show little indifference or self-possession in half an hour's time!

"Lie forward over the table, Sharon. Bend forward over it."

She did as she was told, still without a word, lying forward along it.

"Give me your hands."

She reached them out in front of her, above her head as she lay still. I slipped a strap around her wrists and drew it tight. Then I ran a length of stout cord around the strap, drew her arms out at full stretch and tied the cord firmly to the nearest table legs. Sharon turned her face aside and shook her dark brown hair into place, her cheek resting on the table.

I pulled the singlet hem free of the waist of her jeans. Now that I had Sharon bending fully over, the rear view of her riding jeans was of two quite plumply swelling young bottom cheeks with the outline of her panties clearly ridged. I undid the clasp at her waist and eased the denim down, making her step out of her jeans when they had fallen to her ankles. She now lay there displaying briefs of white elasticated cotton.

"Now your knickers, Sharon," I said "You must be properly undressed for this."

I pulled her knickers down and admired the view. Sharon's bottom gained its seductive fullness from the slight pale sheen of adolescent puppy fat. I ran my hand gently over it and gave her a light cheek smack, causing Sharon's soft pale arse flesh to jump and quiver.

"Never had the whip before, Sharon?"

She bit her lip and said nothing.

"Answer when you're spoken to!"

There was a pause and then the answer came almost as a gasp.

"No!"

I gave her bottom another light smack.

"You shall have a taste of the stable switch first, and then the whipcord to finish off."

Though her face was hidden, her body now betrayed Sharon's panic. Her knees were pressed together and she was trying to compress her rear cleavage. I stood over her, put one arm around her waist, and closely inspected her young backside and the rear opening of her thighs.

"Relax your bottom, Sharon. I must have a good look at you first."

And so I did, admiring the rear aspect of her young sex at the junction of her trembling thighs. She tried to tighten again presently, when I pressed her cheeks hard apart and considered the little vortex before me. I straightened up, gave her another light slap on the bottom and walked across to the desk where the slim black switch was lying. I picked up the switch and a leather belt. The latter went tightly around Sharon's waist, for I intended her to remain very firmly lying over the table.

I cut the air with a switch and the sound of it made her jump with fright, Sharon's bare buttocks tightening instinctively.

I spent a little while taking my aim, touching the cold leather of the switch one way and another across Sharon's bare and flinching rear cheeks. My resolve had begun to harden and I very much determined to make this a long and fruitful session. I raised the long slim switch and brought it down hard with a flick of the wrist, catching Sharon's squirming young backside expertly aslant its cheeks. The room rang with the smack of leather on the soft flesh of Sharon's bottom. Sharon gasped and then her gasp rose to a cry as if the anguish increased for a moment after the impact. The silky twist of her brown hair slithered clear as she tried to twist her face round to implore me. The whip cracked keenly, making her young bottom cheeks quiver again and again.

Sharon bent one knee up quickly and desperately, as if that might ease the lingering smart of the whip, something I was later to see Victoria do. I caught her again with a cut that touched the searing red of the first stripe and Sharon yelled wildly. Her silky hair was spilling in confusion and, when I walked around to the front, I saw her brown eyes filled with tears of dismay. Sharon had never dreamt that she could be hurt like this in response to her conduct. Her legs were squirming and wriggling. The whip smacked low across her bottom cheeks and Sharon uttered a wild and wordless soprano squeal.

The pale swell of Sharon's bottom cheeks jumped and quivered under the force of each impact. She performed arse contortions that a professional belly dancer might have envied. The slim black switch whipped and whipped again across her young backside until Sharon made the walls ring after every cut. She kicked out with her bare legs this way and that, receiving six measured cuts across the backs of them to discourage such conduct. Her knees seemed to give way at this point. Had she merely been bending to touch her toes, Sharon would have collapsed on the floor. How wise I had been to secure her, bending over the table, so that she would have to take what was given her, whether her legs would support her or not.

I do not know if she was sorry for all her previous misconduct but she looked extremely sorry for herself! From its deep blushes and crimson streaking, Sharon's eighteen year old bottom looked as if she had been made to sit all day in a vase de nuit filled with a boiling brew of sharpest thorn twigs.

I stood back and gave her six more for luck...[t]hen, with some reluctance, I laid down the implement. I freed her and she burst out into a sobbing, heaving lament. I untied her and allowed her to stand up. Like a little girl who has just had a smacked bottom, she wanted only to be out of her chastiser's presence and safe in her own room.

"Have you had enough, Sharon?" I demanded.

She would not answer me, her head bowed, her face scalding with tears, and her brown hair hanging down.

"No answer, Sharon? What did I tell you about answering me? I assume you want some more then! I can call in the stable boys to put you over that table again and hold you while you're getting it! Would you like that, Sharon?"

She shook her head vigorously but would neither look at me or speak.

"Have you learnt your lesson, Sharon?"

Still nothing. Before I could repeat the question or warn her again of the penalty for dumb insolence, Sharon snatched up her briefs and jeans. Without pausing to put them on, she uttered a desperate sob, ran from the room, and made the house echo to her weeping and running footsteps on the stairs.

Despite such discourtesy, I did not follow up on my threat. She had been punished enough. Sharon spent an hour in the bathroom before throwing herself painfully onto her bed, and sobbing herself to sleep.

Will there be a follow-up for her continued disobedience? Will Victoria soon receive a similar punishment? Unfortunately, we can only speculate because this is the only excerpt I have from the book. I will explore the possibility of obtaining a copy.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for March 31

What kind of April Fool prank would get earn you a spanking?

Roz: Great question Hermione. I'm not sure though, I doubt much would earn a spanking these days. I've never actually played an April Fool prank.

Windy: I've been in enough "real" trouble lately..... I don't need April Fools this year to help me out in that area at all!

Fondles: Oh, we celebrate our anniversary on April 1st :) That kinda means I automatically get spanked every year on April fool's without having to play a prank or get in trouble for it!

Sir Wendel: A few years ago I put the Misses’ 2lbs hand weights in her work bag with April Fools stickers on them. I never heard anything from her about it the entire day. Later in the evening she was waiting for me with the paddle. It had the April Fools sticker on it. My bottom was sore for over a day.

Hermione: We bought a new car three weeks ago, and it is Ron's pride and joy. I think it would be a good prank to buy a roll of very narrow, black tape, and stick a jagged line of it along the side of the car on the driver's side. When Ron looks out the window to admire it, he would think it had been keyed! Alas, my order of tape from Amazon hasn't arrived yet:(