Friday FUN

One of my pet peeves is seeing graffiti sprayed on public buildings, boxcars, highway overpasses—well, just about anywhere. The wannabe artists need a sound spanking. But some creations, like the ones below, get a pass. Take a look.

They made this a happy day for me. How about you?

From the Top Shelf - Retirement Day, part 1

Retirement Day, a short story by Martin Kenway, is quite a fantasy. It's Matt's last day at work, so anything goes! When you read the opening paragraphs you will realize that this story was written decades ago, when computers were very new

Matt Preston picked up a document from his In tray, glanced at it, made a marginal note and put it into his Out tray.

The firm mouth under the neatly trimmed grey moustache twisted briefly in a sardonic smile. He knew well enough that the note would be ignored, his initials taken for granted. What he was doing was make-work, paper-shuffling.

Not that it mattered. After today it would be over. The firm of Mulprods Ltd where he had spent most of his working life would know him no more. As he had done so often over the past month Matt tried to analyse how he felt about the prospect. To depart had certainly come as a shock at the time, though he realised that the warning signs had been clear enough. The installation of the new computer a year ago had meant drastic staff reductions in all departments, but somehow Matt had taken it for granted that he would work on for another. Heather Caldwell, a plump extrovert blonde in her early thirties was Mulprods' Personnel Manager and an old friend of Matt's. She had done her best to break the news gently but there was no way to sweeten the discovery that the work which had hitherto occupied Matt throughout an industrious week could now be performed by the computer in seventeen minutes. 'I suppose,' Matt had said bitterly, 'the computer couldn't use a reliable man to go round with an oilcan and a polishing cloth?'

But the computer, it seemed, had its own acolytes, fluent in the jargon of bytes and ROM and the rest of the techno-jabberwocky.

No place for Matt.

'At least,' Heather had said, 'the board are making you a generous offer for early retirement.'

It was generous enough. Full pension as though he had worked until the normal retiring age, and a lump sum which was, if not quite a golden handshake, at least handsomely gilded. Perhaps one or two of the older directors had recalled uneasily that Matt had been useful during various crises in the earlier, struggling days of the firm, and undoubtedly knew where some of the bodies were buried.

A couple of days after his chat with Heather, Matt had been moved from the main office to the one he now occupied. A private office, albeit a small and isolated one was glibly explained as a privilege due to his seniority and experience. In fact, as he admitted without rancour, his presence among the other staff had become something of an embarrassment. Better, he thought ironically, for him to occupy his 'condemned cell' until it was time to go.

Someone arrived twice a day to fill and empty his desk trays. Otherwise he saw few people, though he was aware of the busy life of the firm going on around him. What was he to do with his empty future? He had been married once but the divorce was twenty years in the past. There were no children and he never had a fancy for keeping pets. Matt resolved that it would be better to look for a part-time job, no matter how low paid, rather than end up as a sour faced crank writing rambling letters to the local paper.

There was a brisk rap at his office door, which opened before he could respond. Matt's face brightened as he recognised his visitor. Julia had been his assistant in his former office. Despite the age difference – Julia was twenty-two – they seemed to have a lot in common and had worked well together. She had dark, curly hair and an attractive, intelligent face. Her figure was a delight to the masculine eye and a temptation to the masculine hand, and her excellent legs were enjoyably revealed by the short skirt of her scarlet dress.

'Mr Preston,' she smiled, 'you know I've been organising the collection for your leaving present. We've bought the things you suggested and there's still some money left over. Is there anything else you'd like?'

That innocent question could have been asked a thousand times in other circumstances with no dramatic result. But Matt's usual prudence had been badly shaken by the mental and emotional turmoil of recent events. Fantasies and secret dreams which had long been concealed by a bland appearance and amiable manner overcame any thought of discretion as Matt impulsively answered, 'Yes! I should like to put you across my knee and spank you soundly!'

Julia's lovely face was a picture of astonished dismay. 'But – but I thought you liked me!' she gasped. 'What have I done wrong?'

'Julia, my dear, I do like you very much!' Matt assured her. 'And you haven't done anything wrong – at least, not recently. I didn't say that you deserved to be spanked – just that I should very much enjoy doing it!'

Julia's look of consternation was replaced by a relieved grin. 'Oh, you would, would you? Don't you think I'm too old to be spanked?'

'You're just the right age to appreciate it!' Matt declared. 'Have you ever been spanked, Julia?'

Julia shook her head. 'More than one boy friend has threatened it, but none of them had the nerve to do more than talk.'

'You sound almost disappointed,' commented Matt.

'I have sometimes wondered what it would be like' she admitted. Mischief twinkled in her big brown eyes. 'I suppose it would be better for it to be done by someone more mature, more experienced. I take it you are experienced?'

Matt nodded. 'Enough to give me many pleasant memories.'

Julia laughed. 'To think I worked with you for two years and never dreamed you were into S and M!'

Matt shrugged. "That suggests people in black leather with spiked collars, cracking whips. I think of my – er – hobby as CP or correction.'

'It's just spanking, is it?' asked Julia. 'Nothing else?'

'I have used a cane,' said Matt. 'And a tawse.'

Julia looked puzzled. 'What's a tawse?'

'A leather strap, my dear, divided into tails at one end. Very effective in warming a naughty girl's tender bottom.'

Julia's eyes widened and her hands went to her shapely seat as though she was imagining the impact of tough leather upon tender feminine curves. 'Oooh! I'm glad you haven't got one here – or a cane.'

'Sometimes,' said Matt, 'one can improvise. But a spanking can be very effective, just using the open hand.'

He knew he was being reckless. It would be absurd to have his final day spoiled by complaints of sexual harassment. But Julia showed no sign of complaining. She looked at him steadily, her cheeks flushed, briefly biting her lower lip.

'I like you and I trust you,' she said, 'or I wouldn't be talking to you about something like this.' A pause, and then, 'Do you spank hard?' she asked.

'I do,' said Matt. 'Playful spankings are for boys and girls in love-play. A man of my age should spank thoroughly if he spanks at all.'

'Ouch!' said Julia, making a rueful face. 'Still, I suppose there's no point in doing it unless it's done properly.'

Matt could hardly believe that this beautiful creature was actually considering letting him spank her, but he sensed that to show any lack of confidence now would ruin everything. 'I'm ready when you are,' he said, as calmly as he could.

Julia giggled nervously. 'I'm tempted!' she said. 'It's crazy but I'm really tempted. Only – I can guess what I'll be like when you've finished spanking me, breathless and dishevelled and weepy. How can I go back to the office like that?'

Matt looked at the clock. 'Everyone will be going to lunch in a few minutes. You needn't go back to the office for an hour. That will give you time to regain your composure and wash away the tears.'

'So while the other girls are enjoying lunch, I'll be across your knee having my bottom smacked!' pouted Julia. 'Which means I'm going to spend a hungry afternoon trying not to wriggle on a very sore seat!' Again her hands went to her shapely rear, caressing it as though in consolation for the ordeal with which it was threatened. 'I'll have to go to the loo first,' she said.

Matt nodded. 'I was about to suggest that.'

As soon as Julia left the office Matt leaned back in his chair with a self-mocking smile. Of course she wouldn't come back. She had found it exciting and amusing to play along with him, to discover a side of his personality she had never suspected, but she could not really mean to let him spank her...

He did well, therefore, to conceal his surprise when Julie walked back into his office a few minutes later. There was something different about her, and after a few moments he realised that her legs were bare.

'I thought you might take my tights down to spank me,' she explained, 'and I'd rather have them off altogether than dangling round my knees.'

'I see,' said Matt. 'Did you take your knickers off while you were at it?'

Julia blushed vividly. 'Oh no, please, it's not going to be a bare-bottom spanking is it?'

'Of course!' said Matt, amused. 'Why not?'

'But it will be so humiliating!' wailed Julie.

'That,' pointed out Matt, 'is quite intentional. I don't suppose your knickers would offer you much protection, but their removal will make it clear that you are being punished, not played with.'

He pushed his chair back from the desk and patted his thigh. 'Come on, Julia, over you go!'

That very apprehensive young lady meekly obeyed, keeping her balance with her hands on the floor in front and stretching out her long, lovely legs behind. Matt turned up her brief dress and gazed with delight at the beautifully proportioned bottom so revealed. Julia's panties were, as he had surmised, a mere wisp of floral patterned fabric but he briskly pulled them down her warm white thighs, while the red-faced young beauty squirmed with shame and unhappy anticipation.

'It's not fair!' whimpered Julia, as Matt's appreciative hand stroked and patted the warm, springy curves of her vulnerable posterior. 'I haven't done anything! I don't deserve to be sp-spanked!'

'Don't you?' said Matt. 'While you were learning your job under my supervision, you made a number of silly, careless mistakes. I covered up for you, I kept you out of trouble, I was very patient with you. But now, my dear, I am going to do what I often felt like doing then and give you a bloody good spanking!'

He delivered a resounding smack to Julia's left bottom-cheek and she let out a yelp of mingled pain and astonishment as the stinging impact gave her painful notice of what to expect. Matt whacked her right cheek, grinning with pleasure at the incomparable sensation of the firm, warm curve of feminine flesh vibrating under his hand. Then he settled down into a steady rhythm of solid, stinging slaps, determined to make Julia's first spanking a truly memorable experience.

Matt had a fair amount of experience to assist him in his joyous task of roasting the luckless Julia's squirming seat, but most of the bottoms he had smacked in recent years had been those of professional ladies who had charged high fees and firmly insisted that the spanking should stop once a certain degree of discomfort was reached. This was a different matter.... it was up to Matt to decide how long the spanking should last, and he was resolved to show Julia just how thoroughly a richly deserved punishment could be inflicted with the open hand upon a young woman's naked buttocks.

He could tell that Julia was beginning to realise just how much and how often Matt had been exasperated by her misdeeds while she was under his authority. With the cheerful confidence of inexperience, she had probably thought of the threatened spanking as an adventure rather than an ordeal, assuming that it would end after ten or twelve smacks had made her tingle enjoyably. By the time each tender bottom cheek had endured twenty resounding slaps she realised only too well what she had let herself in for. Gasping, squealing, wriggling helplessly across Matt's lap, Julia could surely not hold back for much longer the tears which would complete the bitter shame of having her bare bottom soundly spanked. The fiery stinging in her shapely rump was worse than anything she had imagined possible, and still the punishing hand descended again and again with remorseless regularity.

'I can't take any more!' she wailed. 'Please, sir, that's enough!'

'Nonsense!' said Matt, cheerfully. 'You're just getting nicely warmed up. Another five minutes at the very least, I think.' The methodical impact of punishing masculine hand upon bare, burning female buttocks continued with, if anything, even greater vigour. And now the big, hot tears came at last and Julia sobbed out her heartfelt repentance for her past misbehaviour.

'So far so good,' said Matt, approvingly. 'But of course I've got to make quite sure that you've learned your lesson. My word, your bottom does look sore! Let's try a change of target.'

Julia's tears flowed more lavishly than ever as Matt started to smack the back of her thighs with the same vigour with which he had tanned her bottom. Regardless of her frantic pleading and protesting the punishment continued until the tender flesh was scarlet half-way to her knees.

'It's lucky you came to work in black tights,' observed Matt. 'When you're back in the office, no-one will be aware of your smacked legs.' 'I will!' sobbed Julia, wriggling in abject misery across his lap.

'Which feels sorest now, Julia, your bottom or your legs?' asked Matt.

'My legs! No, my bottom! I – I don't know! Please, Matt, please!'

'Let me help you to make up your mind,' said Matt, and once more to Julia's blubbering dismay, her shapely buttocks endured the correction of a vigorous spanking.

When Matt eventually stopped he glanced at the clock and realised that a little over ten minutes had passed since Julia had gone across his lap. No doubt it had seemed much longer to Julia.

'I think that will be enough for now, Julia,' said Matt, relaxing his grip on her. 'Get up, my dear, and wipe your eyes.'

When Julia rose to her feet with tears streaming down her face it seemed the most natural thing in the world to take her in his arms. She made no objection; indeed, she seemed to find the masculine embrace comforting. It was extremely pleasant to feel her clinging to him as she sobbed out her reaction to the punishment.

'Oh, my poor bottom! And my legs! I'm so sore and the smacking hurt so much and – and – I felt so awfully in disgrace to be punished like that. Did I really deserve such a spanking?'

'You did!' said Matt, firmly. 'You've had nothing that you haven't deserved over and over again!'

'If you say so, sir,' said the meek, tearful voice in his ear. 'But if you're going to punish me over and over again, I shall have to visit you at home.' 'That,' Matt reminded her, 'is where I keep the tawse and the cane.'

'Yes sir – I know!' said Julia, wriggling.

The warm, submissive body cuddled up to his was arousing sensations of an intensity which Matt had not experienced for years. He permitted himself one kiss on a flushed, tear-wet cheek and then, using every ounce of willpower, he released her.

'I think you'd better put your knickers and tights on again Julia,' he said. 'Then go and wash your face and try to make yourself look –'

He broke off, unsure how to finish.

'Unspanked?' suggested Julia, wryly. She had stopped crying but the expression on her face as she gently rubbed her suffering bottom showed that she was still vividly feeling the physical and emotional effects of the spanking. 'I'm not planning to tell everyone that I've had my bare bum smacked for being a naughty girl! If anyone does guess, I suppose I'll just have to say that I asked for it!'

When she had left, Matt looked thoughtfully at the papers on his desk. The idea of continuing with the futile work he had started earlier seemed ludicrous. He picked up his In tray and emptied it into the waste paper basket. The contents of the Out tray followed. Then he sat back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk and waited to see what would happen next.

What do you think happens next?

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for February 23

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Spanko Brunch 2.0 #319

There will be no spanking for me this weekend (sigh!). I had eye surgery earlier in the week and among other things, I must not be in a position where my head is lower than my heart, so as to prevent an increase of pressure in the eye. I didn't specifically ask the surgeon if that included spanking—did you think I would?—but it's obvious that a bent over position would not be advisable. So for the foreseeable, we are on the wagon.

That won't stop me from thinking or talking about our favourite aerobic activity. Our good friend A.J. thought of today's topic after reading the responses to a recent brunch. Sissy bianca referred to a spanking that she called a "lightning round", which inspired this question.

 What humorous names or terms do you have for the type of spankings you give or get, the implements you use, the stages of a spanking, or anything related?

I'm ready for a good laugh, so please submit your answers in the comments section below. Once everyone has had a chance to contribute, I will publish an edited summary of our discussion.

Friday FAIL

As you all know, I'm a stickler for grammar, and scare quotes are one of my pet peeves. Putting unnecessary quotation marks around a word implies sarcasm, and that the word does not really mean what you think it means. Consider the following three sentences:

"Congrats" on your baby.
Congrats on "your" baby.
Congrats on your "baby".

See what I mean?

Here are some more unnecessary quotes that would earn their authors a paddling if I had my way.

Happy Friday!

From the Top Shelf - Lonely and Far from Home, conclusion

Gina is lonely and far from home. She misses her husband, and wishes that he would try to understand her desire for spanking. Sweet memories of spankings from the head of the Youth Club aren't enough; she craves the real thing. Here is the second half of Colin Weaver's short story.

Gina shook her head. Memories were all very well but she needed more than that. Was it possible, she wondered, to buy CP magazines here? She had not seen any since she came to Bannerston but there must be a demand for them here as elsewhere. Then Gina remembered a shop on the outskirts of the main shopping area, which she had once entered to buy sweets. There had been a lavish display of top-shelf girly magazines. She had not looked at them closely – there could have been CP mags too.

She reached for her handbag to check that her car keys were there, but then she hesitated. Parking space in the centre of Bannerston was always hard to find during the working day and she couldn't think of anywhere near the shop in Todhunter Road where the car could safety be left. Better to trust to the local bus service.

Half an hour later she stepped off the bus behind the Arndale Centre and made her way down Todhunter Road until she found the shop she remembered. She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and entered. There was only one other customer, an old woman buying a lottery ticket at the counter. Gina walked over to the wall where the magazines were and started to look along the top shelf. She felt half indignant, half amused. She had often been aware of such magazines in one shop or another, but this was the first time she had deliberately paused to inspect them. She had never realised that there could be so many different poses for the display of nineteen year old breasts, bottoms and thighs. Gina was gazing with astonishment and a little undeniable envy at a particularly explicit issue of "Big Tits" when a voice in her ear said, 'Looking for anything special, love?'

She couldn't help jumping and blushing as she looked round into the face of the shop owner, a gaunt young man with prematurely receding hair and two front teeth missing. For the life of her she could not bring herself to ask, 'Have you any spanking magazines?' On the other hand it would be absurd to pretend that she was looking for a copy of Good Housekeeping. She took the first magazine which came to hand without looking at it and said as calmly as she could, 'I'll take this one please.'

The man's scanty eyebrows twitched briefly, but he just said, 'That's five pounds, please. I'll put it in a bag for you, shall I?'

Walking out of the shop, fare burning, Gina felt like the startled person in a National Lottery commercial who finds an enormous finger pointing down from the sky. Common sense told her that passers-by could not be aware what was in the plain brown paper bag but when she came to a small snack bar she was glad to go in and order a cup of coffee to give herself a chance to recover her self-possession. There were no other customers and the girl behind the counter disappeared into an inner room as soon as she had served Gina.

When Gina took the magazine from the bag it was a relief to find there was no lurid picture on the cover. Just 'Contacts! Contacts! Contacts!' in bold black type, plus the month and price. Gina opened it to see what she had wasted her money on. It contained many small advertisements from friendly young ladies who wanted to meet generous, good-natured older men with various forms of entertainment in mind. An editorial note warned primly that entries from ladies seeking financial gain would not be accepted, but Gina was in no doubt that she was holding what she thought of as a tart's shopping catalogue. She shook her head as she looked at the photographs which accompanied many of the adverts. Like many women who occasionally entertain brief fantasies about "going on the game" she had never realised just how low a standard of physical attractiveness was needed to make a living of sorts in that way.

Then Gina realised that some of the women pictured were holding canes or whips. They tended to be more mature than the others, their homely, middle-aged housewife faces sometimes combining oddly with plump bodies squeezed into tight basques and black-stockinged legs poised uneasily on high, stiletto heels. Others were dressed more conventionally: a combination of full-sleeved white blouse with straight black skirt seemed popular. Their advertisements varied in style. Some were commanding: 'Madame Domina orders slaves to report for strict discipline. No wimps tolerated.' Others favoured a milder approach: 'Aunty Rose will teach naughty boys a lesson. Firm but understanding. Special consideration for first-timers.'

Gina found herself blushing again and was grateful that no-one else was there. The idea which had come to her took a little getting used to. The women who advertised were, after all, professionals. So long as they were paid, would it matter to them whether the bottoms they chastised were male or female? And what did they charge anyway? Gina had drawn a hundred pounds from a bankcash dispenser, intending to pay a couple of bills and do some shopping. Surely that would be enough.

Gina knew that if she spent too much time thinking about it she would lose her nerve. Men did this kind of thing all the time, didn't they? All right, she would take a chance too. Passing over both Madame Domina and Aunty Rose, she decided on, 'Sandra. Discipline in all forms, mild to severe. Full equipment available.' Gina made a note of the phone number and rose to leave.

Once outside, she headed for the nearest phone box. With shaking fingers she inserted the money and called the number. The phone at the other end was lifted but nothing was said. 'Hullo? Sandra?' said Gina.

'Yes, I'm Sandra.'

'I – I'd like to pay you a visit,' said Gina.

'Look,' said the wary voice, 'if your man's been to see me, that's something...'

'No, no!' protested Gina. 'It's nothing like that. I just want to come to you as a man would. For – for the same kind of thing. I saw your advert in a contact magazine.'

'Oh! Oh, I see!' The voice sounded faintly amused now. 'You know you have to pay, don't you?'

'How much?'

'I usually charge the men sixty pounds,' said the unseen Sandra. 'I don't know, perhaps you should get a special rate.'

'Sixty will be all right,' said Gina. 'Now, how do I get to you?'

Half an hour later, having followed precise directions, Gina was approaching the front door of a house in one of the older suburbs. She felt very nervous. Suppose the woman tried to blackmail her afterwards?

Or perhaps Sandra had a male protector who might rape and rob her! Gina told herself firmly that Sandra couldn't stay in business if that kind of thing went on. She rang the doorbell.

Sandra had not been one of those who included a photograph in her advertisement. When the door opened, Gina saw a pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman wearing black-rimmed glasses and soberly dressed. She looked, thought Gina, a little disappointed, more like a respectable librarian than a tart.

'Come in!' said Sandra, smiling. Gina caught a glimpse of a neat, clean hall with flower pictures on the wall. 'Upstairs, please, and turn right at the top.' Gina followed the instructions and found herself in a conventionally furnished bedroom. The curtains provided privacy but admitted adequate light.

'Well,' said Sandra. 'This makes a nice change from podgy middle-aged men playing at naughty boys. Do you want to tell me your name, dear?'

'I'm Gina.' She laughed, shakily. 'I – I suppose I'm playing at being a naughty girl. Do women come to you?'

'Sometimes,' said Sandra, 'a man and a woman come together, and I punish the woman while the man watches. I always talk to the woman first, thought, and make sure she's here of her own free will and knows what to expect. You're the first one who's come on her own. I should tell you, I usually ask for the money in advance.'

'Oh yes, of course.' Gina handed over the notes.

'Thanks, Gina. Now, what did you have in mind? Shall I just go through the motions to give you a thrill without really hurting you? Or shall it be the real thing? I can be quite strict, if that's what you want.'

Gina licked her lips. Now that the moment of decision had been reached she found herself shaking, but the idea of backing down now was unthinkable.

'The real thing, please, Sandra. I should warn you, I'm not sure if I can keep quiet if it really starts to hurt.'

'Go ahead and yell!' said Sandra, cheerfully. 'The old lady next door is a good friend and she's stone deaf anyway. Hadn't we better agree on a code word, though?'

'I don't understand,' said Gina.

'When I began in this business,' explained Sandra, 'I used to stop whacking a man as soon as he asked me to. They used to be furious, say I shouldn't have taken any notice. Then once or twice I half-killed some poor sod who really did want me to stop! So, now I get them to agree on a special word to use when it's definitely getting too much, instead of 'Please' or 'Stop' or 'Don't!' One of my regulars always says 'Banana!' when he's had enough.'

Gina laughed nervously. 'That sounds like a good idea. But – when I used to be punished, I just had to take what came, there was no way of stopping it. I think I'd rather leave it to you.'

'As you like,' said Sandra, serenely. 'Now, one more thing.' She opened a wardrobe and Gina gulped at the sight of the canes, straps and whips within. 'As you can see, I've a fine assortment of equipment and it's liable to leave some spectacular marks. Could that be a problem for you?'

'There mustn't be any marks three weeks from now.'

Sandra nodded. 'I'll bear that in mind. Well, are you ready?'

'Yes, Sandra.'

'You will call me Miss!' There was no trace of good-nature in the tone now.

'I'm sorry, Miss.'

'You will be! Take off your clothes.'

Gina kicked off her shoes, removed her expensive black jacket and matching trousers, took off her burgundy silk shirt. Timid and hesitant in bra and briefs, she glanced at Sandra.

'That's pricy underwear, Gina. Where did you steal it?'

'But I didn't...'

'Don't you dare argue with me, girl! I told you to strip!'

Naked and shamefaced, Gina watched as Sandra moved to the dressing table and picked up a short leather paddle before sitting on the bed.

'This comes a little later, Gina, after a good hand-spanking. You'll find I can smack a lot harder than Mummy used to do.'

'It wasn't my mother!'

'Don't answer back! And I told you to call me Miss. You are making me very cross indeed, Gina. Come here!'

A few moments later Gina was face down across the older woman's lap. Her position brought back memories of her evenings with Marjorie but the humiliation was worse than anything she remembered. Sandra, she realised, was an expert in making her clients feel guilty, in convincing them they deserved correction. Gina remembered the intimidating contents of the wardrobe and she squirmed unhappily.

'I'll give you something to wriggle for, young lady!' said Sandra, with obvious enjoyment. Gina felt a hard, stinging slap on one cheek of her defenceless bottom, then, a moment later, on the other. 'It's quite a long time since I had a naughty girl to deal with and I'm going to make an extra special effort for you.'

Then the stinging hand descended again and again, settling into a steady, methodical spanking rhythm with extremely painful results for Gina's quivering buttocks. Gina was sure that Marjorie's spankings had never hurt so much, severe though they had seemed at the time. The fact that she had paid to receive such treatment seemed to make it all the harder to bear. As Sandra spanked, she scolded, reprimanded, reproved, not for any specific faults but for Gina's alleged bad character and shameless behaviour. Gina found that she was crying, not just with the pain of her smacked bottom but because of the injustice of being so unfairly lectured. When Sandra realised that Gina was weeping she began to tease her cruelly.

'Oh, poor Gina, have you got a sore botty, then? You shouldn't be such a naughty girl, should you? You needn't think I'm going to let you off because you're a cry-baby! It's time for the paddle now.'

There was a momentary pause, then Gina yelled with shock as tough leather thwacked down on the smarting flesh of her tender bottom. Sandra's hand had stung badly enough but the paddle inflicted a scorching pain which had her howling and wriggling across Sandra's lap in utter indignity, pleading and imploring.

'Your poor bottom does look sore, Gina,' mocked Sandra. 'Shall I smack your legs instead?'

'No, don't!' sobbed Gina. 'Thai's enough! Please Sandra, that's enough!'

'You know I can't take any notice of that,' said Sandra, sternly. 'It's your own fault, you should have agreed on a code word. And you're forgetting to call me Miss, aren't you? Right my girl, it's red-hot smacked legs for you!'

With resounding whacks of the paddle Sandra methodically worked her way down Gina's right thigh from bottom-curve almost to the knee and back again, then punished Gina's left thigh in the same way, ignoring Gina's frantic entreaties. For the rest of the spanking she alternated the paddle-smacks between Gina's roasting bottom and her scorching, scarlet thighs.

'All right, Gina,' she said at last. 'You can get up now – but don't think I've finished with you.'

Weeping bitterly, Gina scrambled to her feet, clasping her tormented buttocks. She could hardly believe that this relentless disciplinarian was the pleasant lady who had greeted her.

'I've got a brand new cane here,' said Sandra, turning to the wardrobe. 'You shall have the full benefit of its first use.'

'Please, Miss,' whimpered Gina, 'I'm so sore already. Do I have to be caned?'

'When you used to be punished,' said Sandra, 'were you never caned after a spanking?'

'Yes, Miss,' admitted Gina.

'Then you can certainly take it from me! I'd make you touch your toes but I doubt if you could stay down. You'd better lie face down on the bed.'

Gina miserably obeyed. 'How – how many am I going to get, Miss?'

'Sometimes I let my naughty boys off with six,' said Sandra. 'But you're such a bad girl I think you'd better have twelve.'

'Oh, but Miss...'

'And three more for arguing! Now, will you have them all on your bottom or shall I give you some on your legs?'

'All on my bottom please, Miss,' said Gina, squirming unhappily. She was aware of Sandra moving round to the side of the bed and then she felt the cane drawn lightly across her glowing buttocks.

'Don't you wish you'd been a good girl, Gina?' teased Sandra. 'I'll do better, Miss!' said Gina, desperately. 'I'll try so hard, I promise I will – Aaaaaah!'

She writhed, gasping, as the searing weal rose upon her shapely rear. 'Good intentions are not enough, Gina,' said Sandra, severely. The cane descended again, and again, the carefully aimed strokes dealing out their blazing admonishment in slow, deliberate sequence. The weeping, writhing woman on the bed, the flushed, bright-eyed woman wielding the cane, performed the age-old ceremony of stern retribution and agonised repentance. And then, at last, it ended.

When her sobbing had died down a little, Gina became aware that Sandra had joined her on the bed, that the other woman too was naked. Raising a tear-stained face she blurted, 'Sandra, I'm not gay!'

'I didn't say you were,' was the soft answer. 'But when you used to be punished, didn't anyone comfort you afterwards?'

Gina remembered Marjorie's gentle kisses, her consoling caresses, the long, skilful fingers which rewarded Gina's endurance with ecstatic delight.

'Oh, yes, Sandra!' she said. 'Oh, please!'

Well, I didn't expect that ending, but Gina is content.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for February 16

What is your advice on using a flogger?

Qbuzz: I never really got on with the flogger, though I did once receive a demonstration from Danielle Hunt. It always reminded me of the 'towel snap' that gets done in boys' changing rooms - twirling it round so all the tails are entwined together and then whip the whole thing across your spankee's rump.

KDPierre: The advice for flogger usage depends entirely on what it is made of. Floggers can be well-made or cheesy novelty crap. And of the well-made variety there are floggers made from everything from deerskin, (mild to a point where Ron's arm will ache well before you even experience a tingle. Deerskin is for folks who want to play act the part without any real pain) To moosehide (which is a little worse and stings if a lot of swing is used) to leather (now we're getting somewhere) to rubber (holy crap! That stings!!)


I may be forgetting some others but those are the main ones. So my advice is try it experimentally before using if for a punishment or play session so you both know what this particular does and feels like. And as with any whippy/strappy toy, watch out for wrap-around. Better to swipe than splat....though controlled, targeted splats can work well too.



The width and length of the are also factors. Thinner being stingier. Wider catches the air and lands with less impact. Again, the best information you'll get is through your own experimentation. (it doesn't take long or require any special skill. LOL)

And if it turns out this one is a dud when it comes to sting, try using it on places you normally don't strike....like the back, soles, or breasts and genital area. And if it's nasty...well...LOL..have fun!

Xen: Absolutely! I love floggers, but we only use the thuddy kind (I think the primary one we have is buffalo hide?), so it definitely depends. Main advice would be to practice on the mattress before moving on to people. 😄 We don’t do it often because it requires more space than we can easily set up, but I enjoy the sensation.

Roz: Wow, how wonderful! We have played with a flogger a couple of times before it broke (it was more a novelty type flogger). I found it lovely when used gently,the tails trailed over the body and definitely reached placed often untouched! When used with more force however....ouch!

As for advice...yes, watch for wrap-around and experiment. Start off lightly and, of course, lots of communication and checking in to find out what works best for you both.

Simon: I agree that it all depends on the quality and the material the flogger is made from. However a good quality flogger is a fantastic toy especially if used on the parts that don't normally figure in a spanking scenario.

Prefectdt: You have your first Flogger! Lucky you :) I love being flogged.

I have no idea what kind of flogger you have. Floggers can vary in sensation greatly, depending on what they are made of and the quality of the make, so it is difficult to say how best to use yours without knowing more about it.

Many floggers can be a bit 'endy' giving the sensation of being lop spanked, if the person delivering only has access from one side. So for a first flogging I would recommend that you lie full length face down with Ron having access to you from both sides. Giving a number of strokes (five or six for example) from one side and then moving around the other side to give the same number of strokes. For a first flogging start easy and then experiment with intensity until you are both used to the flogger, preferably on an impact area that is used to getting the licks. Floggers being delivered from above are easier to control, once Ron has gained some skill then you can experiment with standing or bent over positions, with the flogger coming in from the side.

Floggers can become irritating for the recipient, if they become entangled or the tails become crossed. So it is a good idea if Ron pauses every dozen or so lashes (the word lashes gives me excitement goose bumps) and performs the ceremony of "Combing The Cat". By that I mean holding the flogger upside down and running his fingers through it, to make sure that all the tails are straight and separated. This can make a big difference to the quality of the play.

In the old days I used to be an up tight spanko, only allowing play on my buttocks and thighs but over the years I have loosened up this rule and with floggers I enjoy play from my shoulders right down to just above the back of my knees. It is a toy worth experimenting with, to find out how you like it.

Remember to give your selves a chance to get used to this flogger and that every flogger is different. So if you find that you enjoy this one, it will probably not be your last flogger. Happy spankings.

Willie: I remember the first time B actually purchased an implement without my knowledge, a whole rush of emotions came forth. LOL.

I can't add much more than what KD and others said. I would reiterate that as a experienced 'spankee' you probably won't feel much deep sensation with a flogger if Ron stays in the buttocks area. The torso, front and back, the back of the thighs and for more sting the front of the thighs provide a better option. I will say, even to this day, standing there having B flog my front is a tad intimidating as I'm always afraid he's going to miss or a fall will hit my face ( never has happened but...lol)

Anyway there is a BDSM Domme who has a lot of great videos on Youtube, her name is Morgan Thorne ( She's also Canadian). She has 3 on Flogging. B became much better at flogging once he watched them. The first one, you can really skip ahead to the 20 minute mark. I am including the link. Hope it helps.

Ronnie: How lovely of Ron to surprise you with a flogger.

Can't add more than what others have said. I know the Flogger can be very sensual used on other parts of the body.

Enjoy and I hope you will share your experience with us.

Morningstar: Your first flogger!!! I am excited for you.... I love floggers always have guess I always will. In the day I had more floggers than could be used on me in one session!!

As Spankedhortic said there are so many different types it's hard to advise....

I hope you enjoy it!! IF you do - trust me - it won't be your last one :)

Wendel: We have had one for a while now. It is a nine-tail cat that we use only on the bare bottom. The Misses prefers getting whipped with the flogger over the belt. I do agree that it can get tangled easily.

Barrel: We do not have a flogger. But with such an inspiring conversation over brunch, perhaps we should. I will withhold my judgement until I read of our hostess's report on her first flogging.

Hermione: Ron was rather amazed at the length of the thing; he hadn't realized it would be that long. It's leather, rather stiff, and the tails are thin. I asked him if he had watched a Youtube video for tips, and he said no, he'd just wing it. Okay.

He started off with a warmup using other implements - two different  leather paddles. Then came the flogger. Ron didn't use much force, but it wrapped around my right side each time so it felt like a dull thud plus twelve fire-y bites on my right hip and leg. Then he started to enjoy himself.

"I've got the knack!" he exclaimed. "I'm going to get another one." He's never been that thrilled with an implement before. We both had a good laugh and he did seem to improve, but I still hated that wrapping. I might send him the link that Willie provided above so he can see how the experts do it.

Thank you all for the great advice!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #318

For Valentine's day, Ron gave me a sweet card and...you'll never guess what else. A flogger! Yes, really. I was completely flabbergasted. He's never bought any kind of implement whatsoever, and a flogger is something I have secretly longed to try, but figured he's never go along with it. Ron was so pleased with both his purchase and my reaction. He found it on Etsy, of all places.So now we have to try it out, and I need your help.

Have you ever used a flogger as part of your play? If so, what advice do you have for two beginners? Is it an implement you enjoy?

Please leave your reply as a comment, and I really would appreciate your advice on this. I'll let you know how it went when I publish an edited summary of our conversation.

From the Top Shelf - Lonely and Far from Home

I found this lovely story recently while wandering through some old, inactive blogs, and it's a doozy! It's rather long so I've split it into two parts, but both have plenty of spanking! Without further ado, here is part one of Lonely and Far From Home, a short story by Colin Weaver.

The quarrel seemed to spring up out of nothing. Sharp words passed and then the bosomy Latin beauty slapped the smiling young man's face. He seized her and pulled her face-down across his thighs as he sat down on a handy tree stump. Her straight skirt stretched tight across her opulent rump and his hand smacked down on it six times, with the girl showing no response beyond a startled squeak. Then the scene faded and was replaced by the two of them walking along a woodland path, apparently on the best of terms.

Gina sighed and aimed the remote control; the screen went blank as the video stopped. The rest of the film, a musical comedy made in 1932, was of no interest to her. Should she rewind and watch the spanking again? Gina shook her head. Four times in one afternoon, she decided, was enough. Instead, she lay back in the armchair, closed her eyes, and played the scene through again in her mind, with herself in the girl's place.

It would have been much better, of course, to have had the real thing, to have gone thrillingly, breathlessly across the hard thighs of Jeff, instead of fantasising about an actor who, by this time, was certainly too old lo deliver a good spanking. But even if Jeff had been here it would have been useless to hint at her desires: she had learned that in three years of marriage. Not that Jeff was sexually selfish or, within his own limits, unimaginative, but any suggestion that a spanking would be an exciting change would be greeted with a roar of laughter. 'You don't want to bother with that kinky stuff!' he'd say. There's nothing like a bloody good screw, Gina my love!' – and in fact it was always very good indeed. But Jeff was not here and would not be for another three weeks. When he got back from the oil rig there would be love and laughter and whatever this cold Northern town could offer in the way of riotous celebration. But for the present he was there and she was here, and she was lonely and bored, and there was this irrational craving to have her bottom tanned!

Back home – she still thought of Oxford as home, though God knew when she would go back – she could have gained satisfaction and relief from her secret hoard of CP magazines and videos. But she had scrapped the lot, afraid that they might be discovered during the hasty packing when they had had to move North so abruptly to seize the career opportunity which might never come Jeff's way again. All she had now was the one old film with its brief spanking scene, taped from the TV.

Gina jumped to her feet and started to pace the room, pausing to scowl in self-mockery at the mirror on the wall. The face in the glass grimaced back at her, even wearing that discontented expression it was an extremely attractive face, with it's short, skilfully cut fair hair, well-proportioned features and the dimpled chin which made her look younger than twenty-six.

'You should be ashamed of enjoying such kinky thoughts!' she scolded the reflection. 'What would a psychiatrist say?'

Despite her ill-temper, Gina smiled at the mental picture of herself reclining on a couch while some solemn, bearded figure hovered over her, note-book in hand.

'Tell me, Mrs Morgan, when were you first aware of these desires for – ahem – correction?'

'Well, Doctor, when I was in my teens there was this Youth Leader...'

No! No! No! She could never tell anyone about Marjorie Fenn! It would be betrayal, treason, profaning the memory of a happy, loving though often painful relationship which had lasted until Gina was almost twenty. Gina was not the only one, of course. After the twice-weekly meetings of the Youth Club it might be Caroline who was invited to go home with Mrs Fenn for coffee and a chat. Or Kim or Melanie, Christine or Denise. Gina was never jealous of the others. There was a kind of invisible bond, an unspoken understanding between "Mrs Fenn's girls" although they never discussed their experiences except for careful hints and oblique allusions. They certainly never compared marks!

Gina's turn had come every three or four weeks, and she still remembered vividly the quivering mixture of fear and excitement as she went with the handsome, black-haired widow in her secluded bungalow. There had been coffee, certainly, and relaxed friendly chat, giggling together like schoolgirls despite the twenty year age gap, about the gauche young men of the neighbourhood and their clumsy attempts at romance. Marjorie could give good advice, too, about problems arising in Gina's first office job, or about parents who sometimes seemed unreasonable.

But then Marjorie's tone would become more serious, and Gina would wriggle uneasily on her chair under the older woman's steady gaze.

'Even though you're such a grown-up young lady, Gina, I think you still need to be spanked, don't you?'

Marjorie always said "need", never "deserve". Somehow that made it easier to stammer out, 'Y-yes, Marjorie, I suppose so.'

'Very well, Gina. Come upstairs, please.'

In the bedroom, with its subdued pink lighting, cheerful floral curtains securely drawn, it seemed so natural for Marjorie to sit on the end of the bed and smilingly beckon, for Gina to submissively take her place across Marjorie's lap, her slim young body resting securely on the plump thighs beneath the neat black skirt. Then there had been the uncontrollable fiery blush, the little mewing noises, half protest, half appeal, as Marjorie calmly turned Gina's skirt up waist-high and took her knickers down. The incomparable, unforgettable mixture of shame and fear and excitement as the pretty teenager meekly awaited the spanking which she would never have dreamed of accepting from her parents.

Marjorie's spanking were always extremely thorough, even when she had a girl across her lap for the first time and knew that the pertly rounded teenage buttocks bouncing and burning under her firm hand had never experienced the sting of punishment before. She had once remarked to Gina that the expression, "a playful spanking" was as great an absurdity as to speak of a dry shower or a cool fire. Since Gina had just spent five extremely painful minutes having her bare bottom soundly smacked, and was tearfully pleading with Marjorie not to continue the spanking with a slipper, the comment had been impressed on her memory.

The uncomplaining acceptance of a well-smacked bottom placed a girl on the first level, so to speak, of Mrs Fenn's exclusive little group. After she had taken half a dozen spankings she would be considered ready for promotion to the second level, which meant punishment with a substantial, three-tailed leather tawse. Gina winced and reminiscently caressed her shapely posterior as she recalled those occasions in Marjorie's bedroom, the feeing of the candlewick bedspread under her hands and knees as she knelt there, waiting. Marjorie strapped with a vigour and enthusiasm which would have won warm approval from an old-time Scots schoolmistress. The blubbering young lady who had endured a dozen of the scorching best across her crimson, welted backside invariably vowed, 'Never again! Never, never again!' and yet, only two or three weeks later she would be impatient for Marjorie's next invitation.

For the girl who reached the third level there was the cane, not only across the bottom but upon the sensitive flesh of the thighs, with a spanking before or after the caning. 'How she used to make me howl!' thought Gina, in rueful recollection.

Gina had invariably arrived home late from an evening with Marjorie, but oddly enough her parents never complained. Nor did they comment when her reddened eyes showed that she had been crying or when she obviously found it uncomfortable to sit down. At the time, Gina had thought them unobservant. Now it seemed clear to her that many of the local parents, her own included, knew more about Marjorie Fenn than their daughters suspected. Presumably they were, for their own reasons, grateful to her. At any rate, Mrs Fenn was still a popular and respected Youth Leader without a breath of scandal about her.

Gina shook her head. Memories were all very well but she needed more than that.

So Gina needs and wants more, but how? Stay tuned!

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for February 9

What is your experience with timed spankings?

Roz: Great question Hermione. We haven't done timed spanking. I think I would be worried about being done before the timer lol.

Graham: Yes, we've done timed spankings, which adds a whole new dimension. Most recently, I confessed to doing something that needn't be mentioned here (though you may guess!) three times while out of town for a week. The punishment was a 1-minute non-stop OTK with hairbrush, followed by a 2 minute non-stop and then finally a 3-minute non-stop. I got a couple minutes of cuddling in between. I suggested that she tie my hands for the last one, which was definitely a good idea. I would not have made it otherwise. Afterwards, all was forgiven and we had a great night! Not everyone's cup of tea, perhaps, but I'd recommend it if you've ever been curious.

Bonnie: Yes, we've tried timed spankings. We used an old fashioned mechanical kitchen timer. Trouble was that Randy saw this exercise as some sort of competition. Even two minutes of rapid fire, full force hairbrush swats was excessive. I won't be asking for a timed spanking again any time soon!

Jack: Do not wish to try, a spanking from my wife last long enough and longer if I don't do as told. Her hairbrush and my bare bottom would prefer a shorter meeting.

KDPierre: A long time ago I engaged in a spanking bet wherein my spanker sat across my back and arms pinning me on our bed and had 5 full minutes to do as she pleased. If I didn't surrender I would "win" a treat. (I lost in like the second minute!) But the thing was, even if I surrendered, she was not obligated to stop at that point and could use the five minutes to her liking...which she did! It was horrible!

Sissy bianca: For awhile we were doing 10 minutes, hairbrush, over the knee for me... started on panties, about half way through they came down, and then the last minute was what she called the "lightning round" which was hard and fast. It was so brutal, I could not take it after the 5th week and would just cry, she felt sorry for me and we toned it down.

A.J.: I only spank/get spanked for the sexy fun of it, so I have never done a timed session. All I can imagine is that one or both of us would be ready to move on to the next "event" but can't because of that damned timer!!! Kinda' spoils the mood, ya' know....

Side note: Bonnie, you got "rapid fire, FULL FORCE hairbrush swats"????? For two minutes??? Wow!

That has only happened to me four times in my life - every one of them memorable. All but one of them I would NEVER want repeated. But the difference:
- Rules:
- I could say "Stop!" at anytime and it would stop.
- The number of swats was set at 100. No more. (And no less, either..!)

Wendel: We do timed spankings from time to time. The Misses only gets spanked by hand. For me it is split between the hand and the paddle. They last between 5 and 10 minutes. To keep track the spankee watches a digital cooking timer and counts down the minutes. It is difficult to keep count after 5 minutes of paddling.

Ronnie: Sometimes P will say he's going to spank me me for two minutes with whatever implement or he's going to spank me for 15 minutes or so but no actual timed spankings.

Ozarkhillbillyhippe: Until the thin narrow paddle cracked if that counts.

Prefectdt: I have had timed spankings but strangely enough I have never asked for one. I have always been more than happy to play along when others have suggested this sort of play. For some reason, I prefer it when I do not know how long the length of time is but I know I have to make it to the alarm. The occurrence of the smartphone means that there is a good, accurate timer always at hand, in these modern times. I have lost count of how many cheap Egg/Kitchen timers have failed in their purpose.

Fondles: I don't think we've ever had a timed session but it's definitely something I might consider!

Hermione: One of my favourite blogs—now long gone—featured a story of being spanked while watching an egg timer slowly drain its sand from top to bottom. In fact, the blogger had an entire set of timers in various sizes. So I was on the lookout for timers, but never found one that went longer than the time it takes to cook a soft-boiled egg. However, Ron does time our spankings. Although I can't see him doing it, he watches the clock, and always stops after exactly 10 minutes.

Thank you all for your contributions. Now it's time to clear the table and do the dishes. Any volunteers?

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #317

Welcome, dear friends, to our weekly discussion of all things related to spanking. This topic came to mind while I was engaged in a rare event in our home. I was dusting the furniture, picked up a decorative egg timer in order to polish the dresser top, and thought about how the timer might be used.

Have you ever engaged in a timed spanking; that is, one that lasted a specified length of time? If so, how long was it and how did you time the spanking? If not, is it something you might consider trying? 

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

From the Top Shelf - Love's Passionate Frenzied Fury, part 3

After you have refreshed your memory of part one and part two, we will continue with the final installment of Rollin Hand's sweet story about writing a bodice ripper.

The novel was a smashing success. Love’s Passionate Frenzied Fury, it seemed, was all the rage in romance circles. So it was with some anticipation that Arthur observed the latest of Eleanor’s props being loaded off the delivery van and carried into the basement. Oh, say, he thought. What’s this? School desks. A blackboard. A teacher’s desk, the kind that sits in front of a classroom. A school scene, she’s writing a schoolroom scene. At once Arthur conjured a picture in his mind of an English boarding school, and a classroom. A stern headmaster wearing a black gown and one of those flat hats with the little tassel on it, flexing a switch, or what?---a cane. That was it. They called it a cane, but it wasn’t a walking stick, no. It was bendy and swishy. All the better for striping girlish bottoms. And Eleanor, clad in a cute pleated skirt, very short of course, her hair in pigtails, called to front by a stern schoolmaster, played by yours truly, there to be reprimanded most severely for some fault. I wonder what the plot is, he thought. Does the schoolmaster give her good spanking and then she falls in love with him? He was getting aroused already.

Arthur positively beamed at Eleanor’s intrusion into his study. Now he was expecting her and all too happy to assist.

“Arthur I’m afraid I need your help again.” A look of consternation on her face.

Arthur spread his arms and smiled. “Of course my dear. I’m all yours. I will gladly assist you in any way I can.”

“Oh, I am so relieved to hear you say that, Arthur. I’m having a devil of a time with my current book, Love’s Frenzied Furious Passion. It’s my heroine, you see. I have trouble understanding her feelings and I rather thought you and I could…”

“Sort of act it out?” Eleanor nodded hopefully. Arthur replied, “Of course, dear. Whatever you require.”

“Oh, thank you dear. This may be difficult, but…”

Arthur held up his hand stopping her. “I assure you Eleanor that I will do whatever it takes and I will not shirk away from what needs to be done so you can understand your heroine. You have my pledge. As your Miss Cadivec frequently says, ‘we must be prepared to suffer for art’s sake’, so if suffer we must, so be it.”

Taking her arm he said, with a twinkle in his eye, “I saw the schoolroom equipment being carried into the basement. Shall we?”

Arthur followed Eleanor into the basement observing the twitching of her hips under the tight skirt. He wondered how she would look bent over for the cane, panties lowered, lush bottom bared. How many, he wondered? Didn’t they give them in multiples of six or something? For some reason the phrase ‘six of the best’ came to mind. Well, they’d be the best all right.

Eleanor turned to Arthur and smiled, “Now,” she said, hugging Arthur and giving him a big hug and kiss, “I’m so glad you are enthusiastic about this one. I’ll tell you all about it. You see in my latest book, my heroine Elizabeth is in love with Lord Rockwell. But she is only a tutor in his household, hired by Lord Rockwell to tutor his favorite nephew Billy of whom he is very fond. She thinks that he may be warming up to her and she wants the relationship to go further. And also she is very fond of Billy, but Billy is a bit of a rogue, you see and has run off to play instead of attending to his studies.”

“And so Lord Rockwell is put out with her for failing to tutor Billy properly?”

Eleanor cocked her head, “Well….not exactly, but yes, sort of. You see Elizabeth is torn, she is anguished. She knows what must happen and she fears losing both the affection of Lord Rockwell and Billy. And what I need to do is to feel her anguish, the awful wrenching of her soul, the pain…”

“That she feels when Lord Rockwell canes her?” said Arthur hopefully.

“Well….not exactly. You see she must cane Billy. Severely. Imagine her feelings. She must severely punish the boy she is so fond of for his own good, and imagines that Lord Rockwell will hate her for it, but it is her duty and she must. I need for her to feel the remorse for every stinging swish of the cane that she applies to Billy’s tender backside. The two conflicting emotions of solemn duty and tender sympathy along with her fear that she may lose Lord Rockwell forever. I need to feel that it truly hurts her worse than it hurts Billy!”

“But…But what about Lord Rockwell? Don’t you want me to be Lord Rockwell when he finds out and…?

Eleanor looked at Arthur sharply. “Lord Rockwell? Who said anything about Lord Rockwell? I need for you to be Billy, of course.”

Arthur was stunned. He stood frozen to the spot as the awful realization dawned. “You mean you want to cane…”

Eleanor nodded, beaming. She strode over to a box, fished around in it, and pulled out a yellow crook handled cane about 3 feet long. Arthur stared mesmerized as it quivered back and forth in her hand like a snake about to bite. She held it in both hands flexing it. She could bend it almost into a circle. “Yes, of course dear. And I’m so glad you so enthusiastically agreed to help. You do understand what Miss Cadivec means when she says we must suffer for our art. It won’t be easy. I intend to give Billy a bakers dozen with this swishy wand. Hard, too. I must feel her pain as she delivers each excruciating stripe. Billy’s howls of pain will sear her soul.” She swooshed through the air for effect. It made a scary whine. “You will howl for me, won’t you dear?” She asked expectantly.

Arthur stood there, dumbstruck.

“Now hurry up.” She pointed the cane at him meaningfully. “Your clothes for the scene are in the box. I’m afraid the short woolen schoolboy pants may be a little tight, dear. All I could get was a ‘small’. But don’t worry,” she added with a wicked grin, “they will come down soon enough. I intend to cane naughty Billy completely bare.”

Arthur never saw that one coming, but let's hope he enjoys suffering for Eleanor's art.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for February 2

Is there someone in your life who would not believe you if you told them you were into spanking?

Roz: That's a great question Hermione, I really don't know. I'm not planning on telling anyone but I suspect most people who know me would be surprised.

Bonnie: I have no idea and I'm not inclined to perform a test at this point. I do know that our daughter already knows more than she cares to learn.

PK: Since I promote my books on my real Facebook I assume anyone interested already knows. The friends and family I've talked to directly seem to find it plausible and amusing. I think more people would be shocked about Nick being involved.

QBuzz: I think everyone round my way tends to presume everyone has their own dirty little secrets in the bedroom, so they probably wouldn't be surprised though they probably wouldn't want to know the gory details either :)

It's very interesting to hear about situations where a friend or family member has learned about spanking activities...perhaps that might be a brunch topic for the future?

Thanks for a great idea!

KDPierre: When we told our neighbors about our lifestyle, they seemed a bit surprised at the roles. By one of life's weird coincidences, my neighbors sort of knew me before I moved in since both of our daughters once attended the same dance studio. Anyone who has read my posts, blog, or has met me in just about any setting, would never see me as the 'submissive type'. So when we came as as a "kinky couple" they didn't seem nearly as surprised as when we explained who was in what role. My Rosa is 17 years younger than me as well, and is very close to an age where she could be my neighbors' daughter. So I think they found it amazing that Rosa had the authority to spank for real discipline as opposed to just role-play fun.

Now, however, all these years later, my neighbor Marta has actually joined in as a sort of part-time contributor for suggestions to Rosa for punishments for me. In fact, just last week the two collaborated on the plans for a rather substantial spanking I am now to get as I went to pick up a couple of pizzas!

Wendel: I do not think anyone would be surprised to find out. We do not plan on telling either.

Jack:  former girlfriend, still keep in touch, but no idea what so ever. I thought while dating her about being spanked by her, but never followed through.

Prefectdt: I was sick and tired of lying to vanilla family and friends and decided to "Come Out Of The Study" in 2013, not long after my mother died. The thing is I wanted people to know and how big a part of my life it is but not make a big deal of it for them because I did not see why it should affect their lives. So perhaps I have been going about it the wrong way but no one seems to believe me. The last vanilla family member that I told is one of my cousins and I WhatsApped him a link to the blog. I hope that worked better but I have not had courage to phone him since.

Ronnie: I have no intention of finding out. Like Roz, I think family and fiends who know me would be very surprised if I did tell them.

Barrel: I think our friends and family would believe me, but I don’t intend to tell them. I am growing more comfortable being “kinda out” at brunch with all of you, and for now, that’s just fine. I would be OK if one of my wife’s single friends knew.

Hermione: My former work colleagues would be very surprised if they knew my secret, and migth not believe me. To them I was always rather uptight and straight-laced, and I believe I acted that way in order to avoid accidentally saying too much or revealing the truth in an unguarded moment.