Complete the Caption

This rare historical photograph was taken in a courtroom, where a young lady—possibly the plaintiff—is showing the judge her...evidence?What might be the circumstances that led to this rare display?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will render my verdict on Saturday.

The Island, part 2

Last month I brought you a story by Rollin Hand, in which two naughty wives get a big surprise after  disobeying their husbands. (Reread it here.) Their curiosity hasn't been satisfied, so they just might be in trouble again.

“It’s just not right,” said Luanne. It was several days after the incident on the island with the cannibal hillbillies. She and Cath were sitting at the table in Luanne’s cabin. Both women were in short cut offs and halter tops. The dishes had been cleared and the men had left again to help the sheriff. Luanne and Cath were sipping coffee when Luanne had just blurted it out.

“What’s not right? That we got our tails switched by some inbred mountain clan people who might have been cannibals?” Cath shivered. “We got off easy if you ask me.” It was now a bad memory. But the marks from that terrible switching had faded mostly. Cath had peered at her backside in the mirror. Just a few faint weals were now visible. Jake had dutifully rubbed cold cream on her bottom every night and, it had seemed, had been particularly attentive afterwards. The cold cream rubbing had led to other things which made Cath think that maybe there was a silver lining in this after all.

“Two things are not right,” said Luanne. “First we let our husbands down and put ourselves in danger. They told us not to go to that island.” She stopped and got a pensive look on her face. “I’m almost of a mind just to hand Gus the strap and tell him to go ahead and tan my hide good. I feel like he should. But second, those hillbillies are still at large.”

“What?” Cath exclaimed. “Gus would do that to you?”

Luanne directed a sharp look at Cath. “Honey, don’t act all innocent. Don’t you dare tell me Jake never puts you over his knee.”

Cath blushed and squirmed.

“Yes, he does you little butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth princess. I can see it.”

“All right, all right. Sometimes.”

“Hah! I knew it. What does he do and when?” Luanne smiled knowingly.

Cath raised her eyebrows. “I’ll tell you if you tell me,” she said.

“Deal,” said Luanne. She hunched forward. “Don’t leave out one little detail.”

Cath sighed. “If you must know, he got one of those cracker barrel paddles—you know, the type that says ‘wife tamer’ and has a little cute slogan on it. It’s a little cedar paddle that’s light and all, but it stings like you sat on a beehive.”

“Go on.”

“It was right after we were married. We went on this weekend trip down to Kentucky. It started out ok, but I was in a bad mood that day. We were going down to stay in this romantic country inn and see Mammoth Cave. But we got started late because I wasn’t ready and Jake was put out with me about that. Well, I snapped at him and got all bitchy and I said ‘why don’t you just turn the car around then and go home’. Jake told me we’d be all right, that it was our romantic trip and don’t be that way. That kind of stuff. Well, the more he tried to smooth things over and make nice, the bitchier I got.”

“Yeah, girl, I have noticed that tongue of yours can be a mite sharp.”

“I guess I just got worse and worse, complaining and whining, and after awhile Jake went all quiet. Then he turned and said, ‘Cath if you don’t stop this childish tantrum of yours, I’m going to treat you like your daddy did when you were thirteen.’ Well I knew exactly what he meant by that because I remember telling him what my daddy did when I was thirteen and called my mom a f’**ing bitch.”

“What did your daddy do?” asked Luanne.

“He put me over his knee right there in the living room, pulled my pants down and paddled the seat of my panties with my mom’s hairbrush, that’s what. So I got all indignant and said ‘you wouldn’t dare’, that I’d tell my daddy, etcetera. Well, Jake just said, ‘go ahead, tell him then, but I’ll tell you two things. First is I mean what I say, and the next is that your daddy told me just what to do with you if you threw a tantrum like this’.”

“Whoa! Then what happened?”

“We didn’t say much after that. I was fuming and Jake did not try to make conversation. We stopped for gas at a Cracker Barrel and he went inside. He came out carrying something in a bag and I said ‘what’s that’? And he said, ‘I’ll show you later. It’s a surprise.’ Well we got there and I stomped in and told Jake I was taking a bath before we did anything. Jake, to my surprise, said, ‘fine’ and he sat on the bed to wait for me. I slammed the door and took about an hour, making him wait. I finally got out of the shower and realized my bag was in the room, so I just wrapped up in a towel and came out.”

“Jake was sitting on the bed. That paper bag was next to him. He asked me if we could start this weekend over on a better foot, that he was sorry if he’d made me upset and that we’d go out for a nice dinner. And, I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I wanted to test him, I don’t know, but I said something snippy to the effect that I didn’t care if he got down on his knees and kissed my ass, he could go to hell. Well, he came up off that bed and before I knew it, he ripped my towel off. So there I was, totally nude, and he hauls me right over his knee face down. My ass is right up in the air over his lap and I’m totally vulnerable and I’m staring at the carpet. He pats my fanny and says, ‘just remember, Cath, you asked for this.’

“Then he started spanking me with that big hard hand of his. He smacked one cheek then the other—over and over. At first it tingled, then it stung. Then it was blazing. He must have spanked my little bottom for a good five minutes while all I could do was squirm and yelp and kick, but it did no good. Then he stopped and asked if I was ready to behave. I told him where he could stuff it, so he gave out this big sigh and I hear that bag rustling. The next thing I knew my bottom feels a sting like nothing I’d ever felt. It was liked I backed into a stove. It was that paddle, as I found out later. It made this sharp crack sound and each swat felt like a hornet sting. Twenty cracks later I was apologizing—and how.”

“He let me up and I danced around rubbing my fanny which was flaming hot. Then he took me in his arms and said he was sorry but he wasn’t going to put up with my sass. And then something happened—I felt so, well, turned on that we, uh….well we ate pretty late that night. I mean when I saw Jake’s….um, you know…I think it made him hard, giving me that spanking. But by then I wasn’t complaining.”

Luanne said, “That is some story and I know what you mean. When Gus gets in his cave man mood he gets pretty potent.”

“So now you go,” said Cath. “You promised.”

“Well, it started at the wedding.” Luanne poured herself another cup of coffee. “In our family, and we were a big one, you know, each kid had a whacker, a little leather strap about an inch wide and a foot long. Well, when you acted up, you had to go and get the whacker and give to ma or pa who then lit up your tail with it. Over the knee you’d go and pants would come down. And let me tell you, that little strip of leather stung. You’d be kickin’ and squallin’ while Ma or Pa tanned your little hiney. A good whippin’ lasted two or three minutes and usually produced real tears. Then you’d behave for a good long while after that. But that stopped mostly when you got to be thirteen or so. When all us kids grew up, the whackers somehow got collected and Pa had them all.’

“So damn if he doesn’t tell Gus all about it with me standing there, right at the rehearsal dinner and hand him the whacker. ‘Here son, he said, you might need this. Luanne can be a right hand full.’ Well I just fumed and stomped out. Gus thought it was funny. Pa was half drunk. The wedding went on and I didn’t think any more about it.

“It was a couple of months after the wedding and I was out with the girls—I think you were there too—and I’d had a snoot full. So it’s late but I figured, so what, Gus is on shift so I was in no hurry to leave. When I finally did, I was woozy, but I could still drive. So I get in my car and on the way home I drive right through a radar trap. And wouldn’t you know it? It’s Gus. Now one thing about Gus. Being a state trooper he has a real bug about drinking and driving, and he told me if I was ever arrested for that that there would be hell to pay. But this time he must have recognized the car so he had not radioed it in. He pulled me over and boy was he mad. He made me park the car in a nearby lot then he took me home. I went to bed but he went back on shift.

“He came in about the time I was up and in the kitchen. Boy was he mad. He gave me hell about getting behind the wheel when I’d been at that bar, and I said something like ‘what did you expect me to do?’ Well that tore it. He stormed off back into the bedroom for a few minutes and when he came back he was holding that strap. And I said something stupid like ‘what do you think you’re doing with that?’

He didn’t say anything at first. Before I could move he grabbed me, sat in a chair, and flung me over his knee and yanked down my panties. He said ‘no wife of mine is going to drink and drive, Luanne.’ And then he whipped my bare ass but good with that strap. Daddy never tanned my tail half as good as Gus did that morning. He spanked my bottom with that strap for what seemed like forever. I was kicking and hollering but he just went on and on, laying on with that strap. My bottom was a red as a beet and hot as a bonfire.”

“After that he said he was going to keep the whacker hung up in our closet in case he ever had to use it again.”

“So does he use it?” asked Cath.

Luanne sighed. “Remember that night we went out and ended up dancing on the tables at Dooley’s and they had to call the cops?”

Cath nodded. She remembered that one all right. It had got pretty wild.

“When he got me home that night he told me to take my clothes off—all of them. Then he got out that strap, sat on the bed and put me across his knee and gave me a hard licking with it. My fanny was as red as a ripe tomato by the time he was done and I was squalling like a baby. He said the way we were teasing those men it could have been much worse. I suppose he was right. Now don’t get the idea that he hauls it out for every little thing. Hell, I wouldn’t stand for that. But you know how I love to raise hell and sometimes I have to admit, I get a little carried away. So it’s if I do something dangerous or stupid, that’s when I’m likely to get my butt tanned.”

“Ok,” said Cath, “but what should we do?”

“Somehow we’ve got to make up for that business on the island. We have to do something.” Luanne stood up and gazed out at the lake as if there was something out there that they had missed.

Cath thought a minute. “What if we could help?”

Luanne turned. “Help what?”

“Help our husbands. You know. It’s some kind of watching for suspicious activity on the lake. The sheriff is understaffed and that’s why they asked for Gus and Jake.”

Luanne thought for a minute. Then she grabbed her keys. “C’mon, let’s take a ride.”

“Where are we going?” Cath practically had to run after her friend who seemed to be focused.

“The other side of the lake. You know, I saw something when we were on that island.”

“Wait a minute. Didn’t Jake and Gus say to stay close to the cabin today? Stay in the park here because something was happening?” Cath was worried now. Here was Luanne getting all hyped up again.

“Yeah, but think of it. If we can spot something that helps our husbands, so what if we didn’t stay here like good little wives? They’ll be grateful.” Luanne opened the driver’s door of the SUV and got in.

“What do you think you know though? What did you see?” Cath jumped in the passenger side throwing caution to the winds.

“There was a road, almost hidden by brush but it was there. On the other side of the lake opposite that beach. Next to it was where a creek came in. I’ll bet they use that as a boat ramp. That’s how they get on and off the island I’ll bet. If we find tire tracks or other clues maybe they can test for DNA or something and catch them.”

“I don’t know Luanne. Shouldn’t you just tell Gus about it? Why should we go there?” That seemed like a good question to Cath but Luanne just wheeled out, intent on finding clues.

An hour later they were at the other side of the lake, routed there by the GPS map in the SUV. It was just a gravel road that came right up to the lake shore. But there was a crude ramp made from gravel.

“See, you can get a boat in here.” Luanne was excited. “Let’s look around. And look here—tire tracks.” Luanne looked at the creek. It veered away from the road but there was a rough jeep trail along its bank. It headed straight toward a cliff.

“You know what is around here?” said Luanne. Cath shook her head. “Limestone. A creek coming off a limestone cliff sometimes means there is a cave. Let’s follow this road and see.”

* * *


At the end of the lake the two men in the fishing boat swept the shoreline with high powered binoculars. One man stopped and focused on a distant point hundreds of yards away. “Gus, didn’t you tell Luanne to stay close to the cabin today?”

“That I did,” said Gus.

“Then tell me, partner, what are Luanne and Cath doing over there at the south shore snooping around?”

“What?” Gus had trouble believing this. He swung his binoculars around. “I’ll be damned. It’s them. What in the holy hell?”

“We have to get them out of there. We don’t know exactly when those old boys are going to show up, but we know it could be today.” Jake started up the motor.

“Damn it all!” said Gus. “What the hell is over there that’s got them so curious? They usually access the lake from this end, at the public ramp, or at least the sheriff thought so.”

“I guess we’ll find out when we ask them, and I intend to question my wife rather forcefully.” Jake gunned the engine and the boat leapt forward.

Sadly, Rollin closed his blog soon after publishing this story and never wrote part 3. So let me ask you this. How would you complete the story?

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 26

What was the last position you or your partner found yourselves in?

Fred Bloggs: It feels like a lifetime ago but the last position I was spanked in was bending over the back of an arm chair while my companion wielded a cane. A while later I got my revenge with a hairbrush while she wriggled and complained over my lap. We are very conventional. And I am aware that is a contradiction. Stay safe everyone.

Bonnie: Yesterday evening, I was draped over Randy's lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. My upper half was supported on the bed. This is a common position for us because it's comfortable, other than the obvious, easy, and exposes my bottom for his full attention.

I particularly favor OTK spankings because I love the physical contact.

Prefectdt: Last time I took some I was face down on a bed stretched flat out. This is a common position for me. It's nice to be comfortable, while someone is doing their best to make you uncomfortable.

Barrel: LOL, it was less than 24 hours ago! I was laying on top 4 pillows on a beach towel (to deal with the sweat and drool) in the middle of the bench at the bottom of our bed, obviously to raise the target. My feet were tied to legs of the end of the bench. My arms met under the top of the bench so I was hugging it with restraints continuing around the bench and tied on top of my back. My waist was secured with a hiking belt that secured my torso. My knees were pulled apart to the edge of the bench with Velcro straps that connected to a rope loop under the bench, effectively keeping my thighs opened for the session. It was hard but memorable.

Jack: Been out of work for two weeks, the last group until this virus is over. My wife allowed me some freedom, but last Friday she had enough. I was soon explaining to her my attitude, not willing to help with the household chores, while standing naked, her sitting on the chair, bath brush in hand. Let's just say I do not sit around, really can't, do chores she has assigned, and the worse part is each morning given a spanking that will last two more days.

QBuzz: I can answer the same for the position I assumed and the position I had my spankee assume: over the lap.
Definitely a common position... our favourite in fact :D

Yorkie: Always the same - naked over her lap. We tried experimenting once with me bent over and her trying the belt but it didn’t light any fires, I love the intimacy of being over her lap. So does my wife.

Joe: Last night face down on the bed with 2 large pillows under me to raising my bottom up. A common position for me to be in completely naked and completely spanked from the top of my bottom to half way down my thighs both backs and inner. She took a long time making sure I was well spanked, still somewhat sore. I could not thank her enough. ;<)

Roz: Hi Hermione, love the window signs. Here we are putting teddy bears in our windows...bear hugs.

The last spanking was some time ago now, but it was over the bed.

Wendel: I spanked the Misses Friday morning. I took her across my lap with her pants down and then spanked her for several minutes. Last Monday the Misses made me bend over the end of the bed for an early morning whipping with the belt. In the evening she repeated the lesson. My bottom was sore for to days.

Ronnie: Love the sign. Rainbows, teddy bears and hearts in some of our UK windows. We have teddy bears in ours.

Last spanking was OTK with hand and rose paddle.

Michael M: One of my favourite positions. Lying along the blanket chest with my bottom raised on pillows and receiving the long leather strap evenly placed across the middle of both cheeks. Ouchy and nicely spaced out strokes. I had to teach my wife how to use the strap, bringing it up from over the back of her shoulder and then frontwards and down in a quick smooth arc.She loves it now and is very, very good at it.

Baxter: The usual position is me lying on the bed either with my briefs on or just my bare bottom and my wife spanking me with the riding crop or the long plastic shoe horn.

Graham: There are so many great positions. Lately, I've become very fond the wheelbarrow, which we first tried just last year. Very sensual, and it's on tomorrow's agenda.

Red: Last spanking was bending over the kitchen counter for an on the spot use of the wooden spoon.
Read with pleasure that your provincial government in Ontario is going to be giving a boost in salaries for essential workers, and a partial bonus. Wish everywhere would do that. Saddened however, that it will only be for four months, for now. (That is callous, these people deserve more everyday of the year).

Willie: Nothing exciting, standing, hands placed on the arm of the loveseat in our bedroom, but challenging to stay in position! Lol

Windy: Naked, bent over a small chair stacked with a comfy blanket and a pillow for my knees. The end result was not so comfortable on my bottom last Sunday!

Hermione: Yesterday afternoon I was bent over the end of the bed, bottom bared, enjoying (in an ouchy kind of way) each of the four leather implements Ron had selected.


Thanks you everyone. It's lovely to see so many of you participating in the brunches altely. Do come back next week for more.

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #328

Many of the homes in my neighbourhood have paper hearts, rainbows, handmade posters and other signs of support in their windows during this trying time. One of our national newspapers printed a sign suitable for displaying, so I cut it out and taped it to our front window. (Not exactly as shown above, but the words are the same.) I hope it makes the dog walkers and delivery people smile.

Some of us are regularly engaged in spanking while others seldom or rarely have the opportunity. Think back to the last time you spanked someone or were spanked yourself.

What was the last position you found yourself in or had your spankee assume? Was it a common position or something different?

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

You Completed the Caption

Roz: Oh no you don't missy. That MY apple!

KDPierre: "Cindy! How many of these did you have in there?!!"

Rosco: The girls would be needing to punish the peeping neighbor boy who snapped the picture.

The neighbor boy who snapped the picture would use it to good advantage for years - subjecting the girls to untoward but delicious indignities.

The bees had waited patiently all year for this moment - their time had finally come. (Wonder how many even see the background.)

Bathwater: Picking the Apples and Baring the Peach

Daddycat: Social distancing! Social Distancing!!

Weasel: "Oooooooooo!! I might want to change my mind as to what I wanna bite into now!"

Ozarkhillbillyhippie: Once ur down your butt is mine darlin'.

Prefectdt: Girl without a hat - How do you like them apples?
Girl with the hat - I'm looking at the peaches underneath your breeches.
Girl without a hat - But they ain't so red.
Girl with a hat - Not yet.

Wendel: When their father finds out their bottoms will be as red as the apples.

Ronnie: Hurry up and grab the apple or we'll both be in trouble if we're caught.

Liza: Sandy just realized why Laura was complaining about how painful it was for her to go to the bathroom.

Baxter: Hey can you stop trying to get at my ass until I grab this apple?

Kingspan: Can you at least wait for me to pick the switch before you pull my pants down?

Hermione: Tammy's secret was out. Patty was so stunned by the cane marks, she let go and toppled over backwards.


That was fun! For more fun, you are all invited to join me for brunch. It's being served in a few hours from now so stick around. But you weren't going anywhere anyway, right?

Complete the Caption

It's no time for social distancing when the apples are ripe. Or maybe these two have something else on their minds. What do you think?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your captions on Saturday. A big thank you goes out to Wendel Jones for the photo.

From the Top Shelf - Mrs Hansen's Boarding House, part 6

The conclusion to our story, courtesy of Rollin Hand.

Part 6

Ida Reed handed James the note one week later. He told Lisa.

“Ok, this is it. I’m to meet her on the fourth floor tonight at midnight.”

“So at midnight I’ll come downstairs and wake Mrs. Hansen. I’ll borrow a camera too. I’ll say I heard noises upstairs like somebody was up there, and they were hurt or something.”

“Just make sure you get there fast. That woman threatened to blister my butt and she’s going to be mad. Not to mention that I can still feel last week’s punishment.”

Lisa said she could too. But days later it had faded to a faint glow. Still, the memory hurt worse.

It was agreed. James would make his rendezvous on time. Lisa would wait fifteen minutes and then find Mrs. Hansen. She’d take her to the fourth floor. She’d hear Mrs. Reed and James inside and fling open the door. Then, good bye Ida Reed.

At the stroke of midnight James emerged from his room. And waiting right there was an angry looking Ida Reed. She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Come with me,” she said. It was a curt command. James could hear the anger in her tone. She turned at the stairs and started down.

“Wait,” said James. “aren’t we going—you know—up there?” He gestured toward the fourth floor.

She turned and grabbed his elbow. “That’s for nice obedient boys who do as they’re told. I have a special treat for you. Follow me.”

James gulped and followed. What now? He wouldn’t be up on four when Lisa and Mrs. Hansen came looking. He followed her down.

* * *

Lisa looked at the clock. 12:15. Time to go. She put on a housecoat and slipped silently out of her room. She made her way down the ground floor hallway to Mrs. Hansen’s room. She knocked on the door. A few minutes later a disheveled Greta Hansen opened the door.

“Whatever is the reason, young lady, for this disturbance?” She was clearly annoyed.

“I…I heard noises. Upstairs. On the fourth floor. It’s like someone is up there. And I heard voices. Angry voices.” She decided to spice it up a little.

“Voices? On the fourth floor? No one is supposed to be up there.”

“Well they are. I can show you.”

Grumbling, but clearly concerned, Mrs. Hansen let Lisa lead the way.

* * *

The basement! They were headed for the basement. The room Lisa had discovered. And it was just as bizarre as Lisa had described. A block with retraining straps stood in the center of the room. It was a black padded box on short legs—tilted forward. James saw the big four poster bed, the X frame, the mirrored walls and ceiling. And the implements hung along one wall. There were paddles and straps, multi-thonged whips, canes and switches. James shivered. What was she going to do? He could just turn and run, but that wouldn’t help. They had to be caught in flagrante delicto by Greta Hansen for this to work. But she and Lisa were up on the fourth floor by now.

“All right, James. We are going to come to an understanding.” Ida Reed walked over to the wall and selected a black leather strap. “Now, strip!” she said. “I think you need a little trip to the woodshed, my young lothario.”

Reluctantly, James began to take off his clothes.

* * *

“I don’t hear anything,” said Mrs. Hansen. Lisa had led her down the fourth floor hallway. She wasn’t hearing anything either. James was supposed to raise his voice, make noise. But it was silent up here. She heard nothing.

“But I did hear,” said Lisa. “I think it was coming from behind this door.”

“Young lady, if this is some kind of prank, I am not amused and you will be on the list for demerits. I would think after last week you’d be on better behavior and try to avoid being on the wrong end of my paddle.” She folded her arms and frowned.

“If you’ll just look.” Lisa threw open the door. Nothing. A dark empty room.

Mrs. Hansen turned on the light and looked around. “There is no one here. Why did you bring me up here?” She fixed Lisa with a sharp look.

Lisa panicked. Where had they gone? What had happened to James? Suddenly, she knew.

* * *

James was naked. Strapped down over the box, he could hardly move. He was tilted forward, his buttocks jutting up. He felt horribly vulnerable. Ida Reed paraded in front of him slapping that strap in the palm of her hand.

“Before we resume our relationship,” she said, “it looks like you need a little lesson in obedience. If you are with me, you will not have a girlfriend, some sweet little coed sapping all that energy. That is for me, understand?”

James nodded dumbly.

“So I will ask the questions and you will answer, got it?”

James said nothing.

“Yes, ma’am?” said Ida, putting her hand behind her ear like she couldn’t hear him.

“Yes—yes, ma’am,” said James.

“Good. But first, we have to have our little trip to the woodshed, don’t we?” She moved out of his vision to stand behind him.

“P—please, ma’am. Don’t.” James clenched his buttocks.

“But you’ve been a naughty boy, James. Naughty boys must be punished.”

Whack! Splat! Smack! Ida Reed delivered three strokes of the strap as hard as she could.

“Ah! Ahh! Yah!” cried James. The strap was a tongue of fire across his bottom.

“There. That’s a good start.” She reared back again and swept the cruel strap forward again.

* * *

“Lisa Benson, where are you going, child?” Lisa had bolted and began to scramble down the stairs. The plan was abandoned. She had to find James. The basement room. That’s where they were. Had to be.

Mrs. Hansen had no choice but to follow. Lisa hit the third, then the second floor. Mrs Hansen hurried after her. When she saw Lisa hit the first floor and head for the basement, she yelled frantically, “Don’t go down there!”

But it was too late. Lisa was halfway down the basement stairs. Molly, Betty and Fran emerged from their rooms and followed the commotion—all the way down the stairs.

* * *

Crack! The strap seared James buttocks again. It was agony.

“Are you going to obey now and stay away from that little floozy?”

Crack! The strap delivered another fiery band of sting. “Are you, James?”

“Oww…yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Lisa heard the sharp crack and flew toward the door. She flung it open. Ida Reed stopped in mid stroke, frozen in place. Like a deer in the headlights, she stared uncomprehendingly at the intruders. Molly, Betty and Fran crowded in behind Lisa, nearly piling into each other and looked inside. Behind them, Mrs. Hansen was screaming for everyone to stay out and go back upstairs.

“My gosh,” screamed Betty, taking in the bizarre tableau. “It’s like a torture chamber in here!”

Lisa’s camera flashed, catching Ida Reed, strap in hand, standing behind the naked boy secured to the box with angry red streaks across his buttocks.

* * *

James escorted Lisa to his new apartment. All paid for, along with his tuition, all courtesy of his parents and the newspapers who had solicited his story. The Saint Paul newspaper headlines had read:

COLLEGE KIDS IN BOARDING HOUSE OF HORRORS!

Another said:

DUNGEON DOMINATRIX—LANDLADY FROM HELL!

The stories went on to report that one Greta Hansen and her lesbian lover, one Ida Reed, had ensnared impressionable college students in a web of sadomasochistic slavery masquerading as moral discipline.

It was a bit of an exaggeration, but close enough. James guessed it sold newspapers, so he wasn’t complaining. His parents had been so ashamed and chagrinned at being taken in by Mrs. Hansen that they’d given him his own apartment, just off campus at the University of Minnesota in Duluth. Lisa had transferred there too. Of Mrs. Hansen and Ida Reed he’d only heard rumors—that she was in Oklahoma, that she’d fled to Alabama. He had no idea.

Lisa had just transferred. In the intervening weeks they’d written to each other often. Now she’d arrived and James was excited to see her. He had picked her up at her dorm and was proud to show her his apartment. Lisa was all butterflies. She’d been waiting for this.

James noted that she looked great. Wearing a short dress, one of those new “mini” skirts that showed off her great legs, she was a dream.

“It’s not much,” said James as he showed her around. “Just a one bedroom. But it has a kitchen and I got some nice furniture for the living room.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” said Lisa. “And the best thing—no rules and no curfew.”

“No landladies with paddles waiting?” said James with a wry smile.

“That too,” she laughed.

James even made dinner for them both. It was just spaghetti, a jar of Ragu, and some Kraft parmesan cheese, but to Lisa it was a gourmet feast—because James had made it. After supper they moved from the table in the nook to James’ new couch.

“Seriously though,” said Lisa. “I’m sorry about what happened. My plan fouled all up and you got the worst of it.”

“So did you,” said James. “Back in Mrs. Hansen’s room I could see you in the mirror.”

“Oh!” Lisa put her hand to her mouth. “You saw me bare and everything.”

James blushed and tensed up. She paused a minute, just breathing. “Did you like what you saw?” she asked softly.

James relaxed. “Yes. I did. You’re—you’re beautiful. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he stammered.

She put her finger to his lips. “Shssh. Just kiss me. The last time we were interrupted pretty rudely.”

James needed no second invitation. An electric atmosphere had been building throughout dinner. Now they were two young people on a collision course fueled by passion. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She snuggled up to him on his lap so that she was facing him sideways as he remained seated. They kissed that way for several minutes and then James reached over and tentatively put his hand on her luscious ass. “Ohh,” she moaned. He fondled her through her skirt, squeezing and rubbing her resilient bottom. “I love it when you do that,” she breathed. Then she pulled away as they came up for air.

“But I should be punished,” she said. Lisa turned over, placing her herself face down over James lap, her elbows on the couch. Her skirt rode up the back of her legs. “I got you into an awful mess. It’s only right that I should have a spanking for what Mrs. Reed did to you.”

“What?” said James. “But you….” He started to speak but then realized that this wouldn’t be punishment, or at least not angry, harsh punishment. She was blushing and slowly rotating her hips on James’ lap. James recognized the obvious signs of arousal despite his inexperience. She likes having her bottom played with. Maybe she likes having it spanked. He decided to find out.

He slowly lifted her skirt. “Yes, I think you were naughty. I think a spanking would be just what you need,” he said, playing along.

“Ohhh,” she said, lifting slightly so her skirt would slide up more easily. “You won’t take my panties down will you?” The panties in question were a skimpy white lacy creation that breathtakingly revealed most of Lisa’s plump and shapely bottom.

James understood that to be an invitation to do that very thing. When she felt his fingers in the waist band, she lifted up once more. James slowly peeled the flimsy panties down, unveiling a pair of jouncy bottom globes that were now arched up provocatively for his attention. Lisa purred as his hand roamed across the expanse of her saucy behind, stroking and patting. Then he raised his hand and brought it down with a light slap. Then he gave her a few more. She wriggled and looked over her shoulder.

“That’s not a real spanking. Do it like you mean it. Spank your naughty girl properly.”

James decided she was serious, and launched into a series of firm swats that alternated between cheeks. Right-left, right-left. He peppered her bottom with brisk spanks that quickly raised a pink flush on her soft white skin.

Lisa reacted with low moans and wriggles. “Yes, oh, yes,” she said urging James on. James took that as a signal to up the intensity. He smacked her lush fanny with authoritative, crisp spanks that flattened the wobbling globes and caused this delicious jiggling. He felt himself getting hard. Surely Lisa felt it too.

"Oh! Ouch! It’s starting to burn. But it feels good too. A good sting."

The splats of James palm on Lisa’s bare bottom filled the little apartment, echoing sharply off the walls. James hoped the neighbors wouldn’t hear. That could be embarrassing.

She was now raising her hips to meet his descending hand. Smack! Splat! Crack! The spanks were slower now and timed to her up and down movement. In addition he was pausing to rub between swats. Lisa moaned again and ground her hips against James’ groin. James found the sweet and slick wetness between her legs. She pushed back, impaling herself on his fingers.

I can’t take this any longer, James decided. He flipped her over so she was face up. He kissed her and began to unbutton her blouse. Her fingers flew as well, practically tearing off his clothes. They made it to the bedroom and James placed her on her back. “Let me do something for you,” he said, bringing his lips to the triangle between her legs. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know a thing or two about pleasing a woman. Lisa thought she’d come out of her skull with pleasure when his tongue found her spot.

When he entered her for the first time she practically exploded. It was a furious coupling that climaxed in a white blaze of rapid jerking, of bodies slamming together with abandon. But the next times were good too in a different way—more tenderness, a slower building to climax rather than racing toward it. She especially liked it when he did her from the rear. It gave him a chance to squeeze, pat and fondle her succulent ass cheeks, still warm from that stimulating spanking. It was heavenly.

* * *

Farther south in a suburb of Norman, Oklahoma….

“That’s five demerits, young lady.” The stout matron, a formidable woman built like some Midwest prairie farmer’s wife, addressed the schoolgirl in the ridiculously skimpy plaid skirt and white blouse. “Dishes not done, rooms not dusted. Go fetch the paddle. You are due for a reckoning.”

The “schoolgirl” who looked to be more in her 40’s than her teens, padded off and returned a moment later with paddle in hand. The matron took a seat on an armless chair. “Come here and get across my knee.”

“Oh please, Greta, don’t do this to me,” the schoolgirl whimpered.

“What did you call me? Get over my knee this instant, Ida. Until we get some boarders from the university, it’s Mrs. Hansen to you. You are the sole resident of Mrs. Hansen’s boarding house and you will do the chores I give you or pay the consequences. Lift your skirt, pull those panties down and over my knee you go, girl. You have lessons to learn…..”

I feel a sequel coming on.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 19

What can you share about your own spanking journey that you want to share with newbies?

Alan: Great question and there will probably be multiples of my answer. But I had no idea how much a real spanking would hurt or how much I would regret getting one during the spanking, only to have that memory almost completely erode within a couple of hours "post spanking". Closely related to that is surprise at how much power you give to your disciplinarian with little or no ability to take it back or even to resist it (without doing harm to the relationship). Knowing either one of those facts would not have changed my mind about wanting discipline but I would have been better prepared to deal with the vast difference between my fantasies and reality

Fred Bloggs: For years I thought I was the only person on the planet who thought about spanking in an erotic way. I thought I was weird. It would have been good to know there was a whole community out there just waiting for me to interact with them. That didn't happen until the internet became ubiquitous.

Wendel: Talk. Share your feelings about wanting to spank or be spanked.

Roz: So glad your eye surgery was so successful. It must feel like a new leaf on life. Love Ron's comment lol.

As for the question, I would say communicate, communicate, communicate! Talk about what each of you want from a TTWD relationship. Also, take things slowly and let things evolve. Don't put too many expectations on yourself or your partner.

Jack: The best advice is if you're getting the spanking and this is what you wanted, accept what comes. Do Not, Do Not especially if it's your wife , tell her how to and when to stop, trust me, you will do a spanking dance your wife will be proud of and remember.

Domhnall: What Mr. Bloggs said. Word for word.

Ronnie: Communication, communication and more communication. I know easier said than done, so if you do find it hard why not try writing it down and send it to your partner.

Prefectdt: Learn all that you can and then keep learning and allow others to learn about you, remember that there are always at least two people involved in a spanking. The more that you know about spanking and your spanking partner(s) and the more that they know about you will be the main factor that leads to the best play relationships.

Peter: When I confessed, (that is what it felt like) that I would like to be spanked. She knew that before our marriage I had gone to a female friend who would discipline me weekly. My wife liked my friend so I asked if she would be comfortable speaking to this lady.

She did and we agreed to try at least four session. She agreed. My former Domme came to dinner and after dinner disciplined me with a paddle and sometimes belt. MY wife watched and later admitted she was aroused by it. She then met with my former Domme who taught my wife how to spank with,
hand, belt or paddle.

I must confess my wife took to it at once. Here we are now 6 years later and we have refined the rules. More and more I have no say. That has done wonders for our sex as well as our daily life. More and more I discover how deeply my submission desires go. She determines why and how and with what instrument A week hasn't gone by that I have not been disciplined. An yes, Mr Bloggs is correct.

Barrel: When I started thinking about this question, I felt my answer would be built around honesty with my wife about my need to be disciplined, which is clearly expressed in the answers above. Clearly I feel that is a key for us. However, I also feel strongly with the comfort connecting with so many through these brunches. To me, this is such a welcoming and sharing community of people with the same needs and interests. I am more confident in this kink because of all of you. Thank you.

Bonnie: That's a whole blog post of a question. The short answer is that there is no one right way to have a spanko relationship. There are lots of variations that can work. Build one that fits you.

Rich Person: There are a lot of variations in what people in the community like to do. It's worth searching for the person who best matches what you want to do, because getting that dynamic right is important to the overall relationship and how satisfied you'll be with it.

Hermione: Communication is essential, but be careful before you divulge too much. My ex thought it was weird and a sign of mental illness. He was great at lowering my self-esteem. But then, he was in the mental health industry, and when you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail. With the discovery of the internet and all the spanking enthusiasts out there, I realized that I was not weird after all. I let Ron make the first move with spanking. I didn't talk to him about it, although he must have guessed from my collection of spanking novels on the top shelf.

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #327

Welcome, dear friends. I hope you are all staying safe. Spring has been slow in coming to the great white north, but last week, while strolling through our back yard, I noticed some Johnny jump ups turning their smiling faces toward the sun. Knowing that they would be cultivated under when we started to prepare the garden, I dug them up and put them into two small pots on the kitchen windowsill. They are full of blossoms now, and remind us both that life is still good.

Since my eye surgery I am noticing things I was unable to see before. I can count the swelling leaf buds on the oak tree 50 feet away from our back door. But when I look in the mirror, I see wrinkles that I never knew were there. I complained to Ron that I felt I had aged 20 years overnight. He consoled me by saying, "Your bum doesn't have wrinkles." What a relief!

Let's get started on this week's topic, which was suggested by our good friend Barrel and reminds us that we were all beginners at one time.

For those who have been spanking for some time, what one fact or realization can you share with those newer to this realm that you wish someone had shared with you?

Please help those who are starting out by leaving your response as a comment below. Once everyone has had a chance to speak, I will publish an edited summary of our discussion.

Friday FUN

I'm not venturing anywhere near Walmart these days. The parking lot still seems almost full, and there is a lineup out to the road. But here are some conversations our hidden microphones picked up.

Stay safe!

From the Top Shelf - Mrs Hansen's Boarding House, part 5

James and Lisa come up with a plan to expose the lecherous Mrs. Reed. But will it work? Read on...

Part 5

Here was the plan. Mrs. Reed always did a curfew check. She’d come upstairs and open each bedroom door and look in, making sure everyone was there if they weren’t otherwise accounted for down in the library or recreation room where the TV was.

“We’ll slip off up to my room before curfew while they are all watching TV. When Mrs. Reed opens my door, you give me a big kiss, like you’re kissing me goodnight. That will make her jealous. When she sends you another note, tell me when you have to go meet her on the fourth floor. I’ll get Mrs. Hansen. I’ll tell her I heard a strange noise coming from the fourth floor. I’ll lead her up there, she’ll hear you inside and fling open the door and Ida Reed’s goose will be cooked. What do you think?”

It sounded ok, but James had reservations. “I think you’d better get there in a hurry or my goose will be cooked. She threatened to blister my butt good. I mean, she warned me about Fran. When she sees me with you she’ll think I’m some kind of cheating Casanova.”

“Don’t worry,” said Lisa. “It’s a good plan.”

They planned it for a Saturday night. There would be fewer people there, plus the curfew was extended to midnight on Saturdays. But, because it was a weekend, both Mrs. Hansen and Mrs. Reed were extra vigilant. James had not been summoned by Ida Reed for a week since the incident reported by Lisa. Had she turned over a new leaf? James didn’t know, but from time to time he caught her looking at him, at times flashing him a knowing smile. He figured she was just biding her time. A note could come at any time. And then another thought hit him. He should hold onto those notes. The evidence could come in handy.

Saturday night James and Lisa sat in the TV room. Betty had a date. Molly was visiting a friend at the women’s dorm. Fran came in from something, James didn’t know what. At 11:00 Molly came in. Lisa announced that she was going to bed. Two minutes later James announced that he too was turning in.

Fran watched them both get up and leave. Her eyes followed James as he left. He seemed nervous. Something wasn’t right. She was still mad at James over the paddling incident, but she had just figured she’d let him stew awhile before letting him back into her good graces. But why were both Lisa and James going to bed before midnight on Saturday? As soon as James was out of the room, she got up and padded silently upstairs toward the girls’ wing on the second floor. She could see James turn the corner at the second story landing. But he didn’t head for the third floor. No, he was headed for Lisa’s room. Fran saw James push Lisa’s door open and slip inside.

Fran fumed. That two-timer! He acted like he wanted so much for her to be his girlfriend, but what? He’s making time with Lisa? It wasn’t so much that Fran actually wanted James. He was nice, but…. What rankled Fran was that he was apparently planning on dumping her. Then a cold and cruel idea formed in her head. I’ll show them both. She turned around and went looking for her no-nonsense landlady.

Fran found Mrs. Hansen in the kitchen pouring a glass of milk.

“Mrs. Hansen,” said Fran. “I think there is something going on that you should know about. It’s James and Lisa. They are…well, they are…”

“What on earth are you talking about? They are what?” She turned toward Fran and put down the milk bottle.

“They are together. Upstairs,” she said, pointing up.

“Together? Where?” Mrs. Hansen frowned, her eyes boring into Fran’s.

“In Lisa’s room,” said Fran. It was strictly forbidden. Boys did not go into any girl’s bedroom. Anytime.

Mrs. Hansen took a deep breath. Her nostrils flared. “Show me,” she said.

Up in Lisa’s room, things were getting interesting.

“Uh, what should we do?” said James as he slipped in the door.

“Well,” said Lisa, “first we turn off the lights.” Lisa moved over to the wall where the light switch was and flicked it off, leaving the room dark save for dim moonlight that streamed through the window. “Then, you come over here.” Lisa sat on the bed and crooked her finger, a come-hither smile on her face. James sat down on the bed next to her.

“Now what?” he said.

Lisa giggled. “Now you kiss me, silly. Don’t worry,” she said, sensing James’ reluctance as he glanced nervously at the door. “ She doesn’t do bed check until later. We have time.” She put her arms around James and drew him in. As they clinched and James’ lips found Lisa’s, he realized how nice this felt. The warm softness of her body pressed to his, the tender taste of her lips, the feel of her fingers in his hair. He felt instant arousal like an electric charge as Lisa’s tongue intertwined with his. It was soft, it was sweet. Not at all like the ravenous intensity of Ida Reed. They tumbled back into the bed and turned on their sides facing each other. Lisa put her arm around James’ waist pulling him tighter against her. She pressed her groin against his and allowed her breasts to mash into James chest. And oh it felt so good, she decided. She swooned when James put his hand on her bottom and began to gently squeeze the satiny globes. The kisses grew more passionate, so much so that the couple forgot entirely that their purpose was merely to create an appearance of impropriety for Mrs. Reed’s edification. The plan had been for Ida Reed to see them doing no more than holding hands. But they’d gone far beyond that.

What they created by getting so carried away was the real thing, a fact that was abundantly clear to Greta Hansen as she burst through the door and turned on the light.

“Just what is going on here?” she thundered. The couple shot straight up, startled and disoriented as the harsh light illuminated their dishabille.

“Mrs. Hansen!” Lisa exclaimed, putting her hand over her mouth. Why her? Why now? Where was Mrs. Reed?

James rose. “We…we didn’t do anything. I was about to leave.”

“You stay right there, young man. Imagine!” she huffed. “The two of you cavorting like alley cats. This is strictly forbidden and you both know it.” She shook her finger at the couple. “There will be a reckoning for both of you. A special reckoning. And this won’t wait until Sunday night. You will both report to me tomorrow promptly after church. You will see then what the wages of sin are.” She folded her arms and glared at them both. “James, go to your room at once. Lisa, you are in for the night.”

As shocked and nonplussed as the two were, James still noticed Fran in the background, standing in the hall behind Mrs. Hansen. She had done this. She had ratted them out.

* * *

On Sunday they all went to church. It was another rule. Throughout the service James fidgeted nervously. He snuck glances at Lisa occasionally. She would return them with a wan smile, but clearly, she too was dreading the return to the house after church.

Mrs. Reed had been uncharacteristically silent that morning. James had tried to avoid making eye contact, but he couldn’t help looking her way, trying to gauge her reaction to the events of last night. But when their eyes did meet she fixed him with a glare that told him that this incident wasn’t over by a long shot.

They drove back from church. As the five student boarders trooped into the house, Mrs. Hansen announced that lunch would be delayed. They were to wait. “But James and Lisa will come with me. Right now,” she said. Molly and Betty tried to flash sympathetic smiles at Lisa and James as the two turned to follow Mrs. Hansen down the hallway to her quarters. Fran’s face was twisted into a self satisfied smirk.

She ushered them into the room. Ida Reed entered as well. She shut the door and addressed them both.

“The two of you should be ashamed. I hope you listened to the pastor this morning. His sermon was very relevant.” Indeed, James and Lisa had had to listen to the preacher rail against the sins of the flesh and describe the fires of hell that awaited those who transgressed. “I’m sure your parents would be very displeased if they knew what you two had been up to last night,” she continued. “And in fact, they would probably do what I am about to do. But since they are not here, I must act in their stead. As you know I had extensive discussions with your parents before you contracted to board here and they all approved of my methods.”

James and Lisa cast glances at each other. Lisa felt sick. Her plan had failed miserably and now here they were, probably about to undergo a humiliating juvenile punishment at the hands of this woman. And the sheer hypocrisy to boot. Lisa swore to herself that she’d fix this somehow—with James most importantly, but she’d also expose this holier-than-thou pretender.

James’ mouth was dry and butterflies churned in his stomach. How had he gotten himself into this? Was she going to punish them together? That question was answered by her next pronouncement.

“James, you go to that corner. Lisa, you stand in that corner. Face the wall, and no looking around.” They moved to comply and shuffled over to opposite corners. It was a large bedroom and James stood in a corner twenty feet away from Mrs. Hansen’s large four poster bed. Isolated though he was, there was a mirror to his left, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the reflection of the foot of the bed. There was a padded bench there. Mrs. Hansen was lost to his view for a moment, but he heard her get up and walk over to a closet. The door squeaked on its hinges and footsteps told him Mrs. Hansen was coming back. James saw her carrying an object in her hand. It was a small paddle, about ten inches long and rectangular with rounded edges. It was a smaller version of the one she customarily used.

She sat down on the bench, paddle in hand. James regarded her in the mirror, this formidable hefty woman, tapping the paddle in her palm, her expression one of grim determination. She looked like every schoolboy’s nightmare, the authoritarian schoolmarm prepared to deliver a painful chastisement for misbehavior. James almost felt his knees knock.

“Lisa, remove your dress and slip, then come over here.”

James heard a soft gasp from Lisa and then the sound of a zipper. The room was silent save for the soft rustling of clothing. James couldn’t help it. The thought of Lisa undressing made his penis harden. Then he saw her in the mirror as she walked over to Mrs. Hansen. Clad in only a white bra and white panties, she was a vision of sexiness. Voluptuous, but not fat, her pinched in waist served to emphasize her wide hips and jutting bottom. Her breasts stood high and firm with no hint of sag.

“Now,” said Mrs. Hansen, as Lisa stood to her right, “You must be punished. What you did was strictly forbidden in this house and you know it. And as naughty children you will be punished as such. Lisa, place yourself across my lap. Right now.”

“Oh please Mrs. Hansen.” Lisa spoke for the first time. “We didn’t mean it. We were only…”

Mrs. Hansen cut her off. “A blind man could see what you were up to, girl. Now get across my knee. You broke the rules and your bare seat is going to pay the price.”

Slowly Lisa lowered herself across the woman’s lap. Mrs. Hansen took a minute to adjust her until her bottom was angled up at the ceiling. Then she laid the paddle aside for a moment and slid her fingers into the elastic of Lisa’s panties.

Lisa blushed bright red as she felt her panties slide down to her thighs and ultimately come to rest around her knees. It was unbearably shameful, being treated like this. She hadn’t been in this position since she was fourteen and had called her mother a bad name. She gritted her teeth as she felt the paddle tapping her seat.

“You will each receive twenty spanks with my paddle. They will be hard. It will hurt, but you will both learn a good lesson. Mrs. Reed, keep count.” She pressed the wood onto Lisa’s behind for a moment, as if lining it up. Then she raised the paddle above her shoulder and brought it down. There was the sharp smack! of wood striking flesh.

“Yow!” exclaimed Lisa. It was like her fanny had burst into flame.

At measured intervals of a few seconds each, Mrs. Hansen doled out the punishment. The splats of the paddle on Lisa’s tender bottom ricocheted around the room like the pop of firecrackers. Lisa hissed and yelped in distress. She fluttered her feet, drumming her toes on the floor.

Smack! The paddle flattened Lisa’s bottom cheeks.

Smack! Another solid lick made her squeal.

Crack! Lisa threw back her head and gasped.

James saw the fulsome cheeks jiggle as each swat landed and, God help him, it made him randy. But he was mesmerized. Watching Lisa’s sexy form squirming across Mrs. Hansen’s lap getting her bottom spanked presented a fascinating spectacle. The stout matron, a naughty girl across her lap, her bottom bare. The rise and fall of her arm as she raised it then brought the paddle down. The sharp crack, the wriggle of the girl’s shapely fanny and the resulting cry—it was a lurid display, the likes of which James had never seen.

Ow! Ow! Ow! Lisa squealed in reaction to the awful stinging swats. She couldn’t help it. Every lick was more intense than the last. It was awful, being helplessly jackknifed over this woman’s knee, her bottom bare, feeling the sting of that paddle over and over. She felt that she might cry.

James observed Lisa’s hips buck up and down in reaction to the paddling and listened to her soft cries. Her bottom was a bright red now. She was such a fair skinned girl that it would color that way. Then there must have been a signal from Mrs. Reed because suddenly it stopped. Mrs. Hansen put down the paddle.

“Now, girl, you may get up. Go back in the corner, put your hands on your head and no rubbing.” Sniffling back tears, Lisa picked herself up and shuffled over to her corner. Then Mrs. Hansen turned toward James. “James, you are next. Take off your shirt and trousers and come over here to me.”

James panicked. It wasn’t the imminent paddling, it was his wayward cock. It was rock hard. Mrs. Hansen would see. He gritted his teeth and willed it to subside as he shucked off his clothes. He heard Lisa sobbing softly and he turned to look.

“Don’t you look at her. You get over here,” commanded Mrs. Hansen.

James stood in front of her. Her eyes dropped to his crotch and the evidence of his arousal. “Well,” she said icily. “We’ll soon fix that, young man. Get over my knee.”

James went over the woman’s lap. He felt his white briefs sliding to his knees. The wood of the paddle tapped his cheeks, almost gently it seemed, before he felt the first hard whack.

It was a blaze of white hot sting. Then crack! Another. A few seconds later, another. I can’t take this, was his thought. It’s too much. The swats piled on top of each other, pain exploding across his bottom. He squirmed involuntarily.

“You stop that squirming, young man. You are going to take this paddling like it or not.” Then she resumed.

The cracks of the paddle fell with sonorous regularity creating a burning pain that blotted out everything. His whole world was the red hot searing agony inflicted on his behind. He heard Ida Reed count in a dry monotone. “…thirteen (crack!)…fourteen (crack!)..fifteen (snack!). James clenched his fists and tried to take it. He imagined what he must look like—bent over her knee like a ten-year-old, pants down, bare bottom up, his fanny wriggling as the paddle connected, wielded by this grimly determined matron. It would be comical if it weren’t so painfully humiliating.

How James coped without breaking down in tears was nothing short of miraculous. But he didn’t want Lisa to hear him cry like a baby. She hadn’t broken down. But it seemed like Mrs. Hansen spanked harder and harder toward the end, it was as if she were trying to make him cry. But he choked it back. After another scolding, delivered as they stood in the corner hands on head, they were allowed to dress and leave.

* * *

“I’m so sorry, James,” said Lisa. They were both standing in the parlor eating supper. There was a wide mantelpiece on which their plates rested. It hurt too much to sit. “My poor bottom is still throbbing. I think it was swollen to twice its size,” she said ruefully.

“Yeah. Mine still feels hot. But Lisa, it’s not your fault. How could you have known? It was Fran. She told on us.”

Lisa noted with satisfaction that James lips were pursed into an angry frown as he said it. Clearly Fran’s actions had soured him on that relationship.

“I don’t know what to do now,” she said, her lower lip protruding sadly.

“We’ll think of something,” said James. “Don’t worry.”

She managed a weak smile. Hopefully he was right. Still, no matter what, Lisa felt she owed him, and she resolved at that moment to make it up to James however she could. And she could certainly envision a few ways in which she might do just that. And that thought gave her a little tingling thrill.

“You know, if you think about it,” James said the next day as they walked to class, “nothing has changed. Mrs. Reed didn’t actually catch us, but she is now aware that you and I are, uh, you know, an item.”

Lisa smiled mischievously. “Is that what we are? An item?”

“Uh, yeah,” said James. “We are, aren’t we?”

“Yes we are, James,” she said with a giggle and snuggled against him. “Yes, we are.”

Back to the drawing board for James and Lisa. Will they come up with another plan? Will they run away together? What about Fran? Will Mrs. Hansen ever learn the truth about Mrs. Reed? All will be revealed next week in the finale.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 12

Have you ever had to educate your spanking partner?

Bonnie: It's certainly possible to offer a gentleman constructive criticism on his spanking technique while you are stretched face down across his lap and he is holding a paddle, but that wouldn't be a wise choice.

Wendel: I agree with Bonnie. The Misses seems to already have it figured out so I am not tempting fate and risking a harder spanking by making suggestions.

CK: Particularly in 'stand-up' spankings, I'll sometimes mention (howl) if the strikes are coming in too high. Otherwise, she's in charge!

Roz: I agree with the others, not a good idea! The only time I have commented is if the strikes are too high or sometimes if there is wrap around. Other than that, if, say I want the spanks directed elsewhere or harder/ lighter there may on occasion have been some body language signals.


Prefectdt: I have on several occasions had to offer some advice to spankers, mostly those with limited experience, which can only be expected. How did I do it and was it effective? This depended on the person doing the spanking and their personality type and ability to learn. But on the flip side I do like to hear from a spanker, if they are not happy about something in the play and/or have useful tips and tricks that they would like to pass on. There is always something new to learn. Sharing good information should never be looked down on.


Ronnie: I agree, not such a good idea to give advice when you're face down OTK. I have in the past mentioned if more one sided or wrap around.

Willie: When we first started ttwd do absolutely I offered information. B used to say, "If it's not working, what's the point". Even now, we will discuss things, sometimes during - provided it isn't a punishment spanking. If it is a reset for my benefit, and he starts off to strong, or if I have gone numb I tell him - often not in the best way possible - he has (mostly) come to terms with the fact that when I'm in pain things do not come out the best way, and has tried to concentrate on the intel not the tone during those times. It isn't because he is inexperienced, it is because my headspace can vary how I physically take a spanking. Often I do not know why something is ineffective one time and not the next, but if it is, he wants to know. Nothing worse than a failed spanking, it leaves us both in a worse place than before.

Barrel: I have complained of strokes that have been too high or wrap, too. My wife and I have worked together to enhance her use of a new tawse I bought her. She has been learning how to apply it at different angles and lengths so the tips wrap into places where most implements cannot access. It is fun talking about how to do it. Challenging when the practice begins.

Happy Easter to All!

Rosco: One of the great things about being spanked is yielding control, so it’s best to go with the flow. On a few occasions when Irene was getting the far hipbone with a whip, I’ve had to make an exception. And when she’s mistakenly hit my balls hard, it’s obvious.

Sometimes we’ll have a discussion later about what works or what to try. But during the moment I do my best to sink deeply into the submissive naughty boy space and certainly not micromanage.

A.J.: Yes.

For me, though, it was when I was otk getting spanked by some new girlfriend who was willing to do it. I was happy enough with that, but I do remember two things:

1. Telling her "I have two cheeks!", and
2. "Harder!"

In the first instance she made adjustments and kept the party going!!

In the second, a lot less success. Arm strength, hurting her hand, general reluctance...?? Could be one or all. But it was still fun, and most of the time we'd switch positions.

Also, I'm not interested or want to give or take real hard spankings, but I do remember one woman who took too long between smacks, all of which were far too light. (I had spanked her in the past, and decided it was now her turn to give me one. I was the first man she had ever spanked.) While I don't like it hard - at the end I want to feel it and be a nice pink back there, and she was just not getting the "Harder! Faster!" message.

It was so bad one time I got up, grabbed her and put her otk, bared the target and gave it about 20 firm ones! "Like that! Give me 100 like that."

How'd she do? OK, but she said her hand hurt and I don't think she really liked doing it. A mental thing. Next time we switched, same thing.

Life. 'Tis what it 'tis.

QBuzz: My partner was complete spanking novice (but a keen learner!), and it's a lot easier to demonstrate than explain, even if the person being demonstrated on is yourself...

Simon: I find the implement most people have trouble with is the cane. Thankfully having been caned by some very expert ladies I am in the position of being able to explain where someone is going wrong although since they are wielding it this can lead to a very severe thrashing. People are often either too nervous or too eager resulting in either a tap I can barely feel or a stroke which curls round. It's easier to show how to do it so if the lady is willing to receive a few strokes as well as give them by the end of a session we can both be happy.

Hermione: I have tried on occasion, but Ron takes no notice of my suggestions. HE's in charge of the paddle!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #326

How was your week? Mine was busy at times. I made four cotton face masks for us to wear when we venture outside. (Thank you to the reader who suggested using thin elastic headbands. They worked just fine!) There are plenty of patterns and instructions available on YouTube for those of you who can sew. Here's the simplest way to make a mask from a cotton bandana and hair elastics, no sewing required.

Now on to today's brunch topic, Courtesy of A.J. and possibly inspired by the home schooling many of you are having to do at the moment.

Have you ever had to educate your spanking partner, while either giving or taking, on the correct procedure for a spanking? If so, how did you do it? Was your advice effective?

Leave your response as a comment, and I will publish an edited summary of our conversation on Monday.

You Completed the Caption

Roz: Lucy's fishing expedition yielded an unexpected catch.

Rosco: Not sure what she’s fishing for, but I’ll bite (gently).

Kenzie: She didn't expect the fishing trip to take this sort of turn.

KDPierre: Having both suffered recent break-ups and both believing the adage about "too many fish in the sea", Beth and Sally decided to bait the local fishermen.

Dan: What will be the outcome? Probably a really happy photographer.

Prefectdt: With this bait, I reckons I can catch me one of them there hot scuba divers.

Ozarkhillbillyhippie: And not a willow tree in site for a nice limber switch for her sisters deserving arse.

Ronnie: Susan hadn't expected to catch anything that morning.

Red: Proof positive why women should wear loose fitting skirts and dresses, specially on windy days. Fishing is a good idea when the region is becalmed, because it can stir up a lot of fun.

Kingspan: "How odd," she thought. "Usually when I get my bottom bared by someone holding a rod, they're standing behind me."

Wendel: Fishing for a spanking.

Hermione: (girl on the right) Hurry, Roger, get the paddle and tan her bottom while I hold her skirt up.

The Return of Complete the Caption

Yesterday, our good friend Wendel Jones reminded me that it's been a while since I posted a picture for you to caption. In order to reinforce the point, he spanked me sent me three excellent pictures. This is one of them.

This fishing expedition has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. What will be the outcome?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your happy (or not so happy) endings on Saturday.

From the Top Shelf - Mrs Hansen's Boarding House, part 4

Life goes on at Mrs. Hansen's boarding house, and that includes paddlings. Last week James had been forced to paddle both Fran and Lisa, and the girls weren't happy about it.

Part 4

It was a miserable week for James. Fran avoided him. She wouldn’t talk to him at meals and would not walk to class with him. Attempts at apology were met with rebuffs. Lisa, however, was more forgiving.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, as they walked to class few days later. “I had no choice. I’m in the same fix as all of you.” That much was true. It seemed all of the other boarders, being freshmen and away from home for the first time, were under mandates from parents to board with Mrs. Hansen’s and abide by her rules.

“I know,” said Lisa. She was still sitting rather gingerly even three days later. But neither Lisa nor Fran knew the real reason why Ida Reed had faked an injury. And James was certain that the blind draw had been rigged. It had been a ruse to drive James and Fran apart. Trouble was, it had worked. But how could he ever tell any of the girls why Mrs. Reed had such a hold on him?

“Look, if I tell you something, do you promise not to tell Fran? It’s—it’s pretty embarrassing.”

“Well, sure. I can keep a secret.” The fact was, Lisa was very taken with James. Was this a way to get closer? Might she have a chance? She was different from Fran. Fran the cheerleader, Fran the extroverted social charmer toward whom everyone gravitated.  But Lisa had her own charms.

Lisa knew she was attractive, and, let’s be honest, built like the proverbial brick you-know-what. But she was shy. And pretty, although she hid behind these big glasses with black plastic frames. Still, boys stared at her tits all the time, which annoyed her. James hadn’t done that. James was different. Like her, he was shy. But she speculated that under that polite and shy exterior he might be the man for her. Not only because he was cute, but because he was nice and seemed to care about her as a person.

And because she had a secret. Her real erogenous zone was her ass. She had discovered that fact with a boyfriend when she had been only sixteen. They had made out in her house, down in the recreation room. Tommy had been fascinated by the satiny smoothness of her ass and had always found excuses to squeeze and fondle it. Being a rather voluptuous girl, it jutted out, filling the backs of her skirts and jeans and making for a provocative display when she walked. Tommy had obviously liked that part of her anatomy to the point of fascination. His attentions had driven her crazy. He had once even given her a play birthday spanking. It hadn’t hurt. Instead it had tingled deliciously, driving her wild and they’d had the hottest make out session ever. She had even let him get to third base, and it might have gone farther than that, but they’d had to quit when she heard her parents’ car pulling up the driveway.

That’s why she hadn’t minded so much bending over and displaying her bottom to James, even if it was for a paddling. And it had hurt. Whew! It had stung like blazes. But later, later when the sting had faded to a warm glow, it felt almost sensuous. She could imagine James running his hands over it, squeezing it, fondling it. And she knew he would. She had seen the woody poking through his pants, knowing that the paddling had—what was that new phrase?—turned him on. That would be heavenly. He would be so different from the boorish boys who leered at the stacked blonde girl. And right then and there she resolved to keep his secret no matter how shameful.

“You can tell me, James. I swear I won’t tell anyone, especially Fran.”

James told her. Haltingly at first, and then it all spilled out.

“My gosh, James!” Lisa put her hands to her face. “That’s awful! She made you do those things?” Lisa was dumbfounded. She’d only heard about such things, older women who preyed upon young boys. Now here was one in the flesh. “What are you going to do?”

James sighed. “I don’t know, Lisa. I really don’t know.”

“It will all be ok,” said Lisa. “We’ll think of something.” And she embraced James with a big hug. And that felt so good, she decided. She didn’t care if he’d been seduced by Ida Reed and had had sex with her. The feel of his body pressing against hers told her that she wanted this man.

James, too was surprised and pleasantly so. Here was a girl with whom he had shared an embarrassing intimate secret, and yet she hadn’t judged him. He had to wonder if Fran would have been so accepting. And better yet, he now had an ally.

* * *

Deliverance came in the form of a random bit of luck, but sometimes serendipity will work when plans do not. But it was not without some sacrifice that the formidable Ida Reed would be vanquished.

The basement was off limits. Mrs. Hansen had made that clear. “There is nothing down there but the furnace and some old tools. It’s dark and dangerous and none of you are to go down there,” she had announced one day in response to a question. Everyone accepted that at face value. Why would they want to go down there anyway?

But the place had aroused Lisa’s curiosity when she had chanced to be in the house around 10 o’clock one morning. Usually everyone was at class at that time, leaving only Mrs. Hansen and Mrs. Reed. But having forgotten a paper she’d been working on, Lisa had returned to retrieve it. As she had passed by the doorway to the basement, she’d heard a sound. It was a sound like a twig snapping, a sharp thwick! Then it was followed by another. Then another, this time accompanied by a low moan. She realized she could hear because these sounds came from the grates that led to the furnace below. Swick! There it was again. And someone was moaning, a low sound made a chill run up her spine. What was going on?

Carefully, almost on tiptoe, Lisa made her way down the dark stairs. The basement seemed large but Lisa couldn’t tell because it was so dark. The old oil-fired furnace gave off a soft glow, just enough so she could see without bumping into something. Toward the back she could see a sliver of bright light. It was spilling onto the basement floor from beneath a closed door. The snapping sound came from that direction. She heard another moan and this time, voices. A soft murmur came from behind that door. Lisa crept closer. The door was closed, but it was the type that had an old fashioned keyhole. Lisa crouched down, barely daring to breathe. Something was going on in that room that she had to see. Lisa put her eye to the keyhole.

Once her eye had adjusted, a startling tableau was revealed. It was Mrs. Hansen, but a Mrs. Hansen like she’d never seen before. This Mrs. Hansen wore a black corset and black stockings. Her pendulous breasts jutted over the top of the stiff material, the nipples hardened in apparent arousal. Before her was a woman, encased in black. It was a shiny material, like some kind of rubber, covering her from head to toe except for her face—and except for a large cutout portion that totally exposed her breasts, ass and crotch. It was Mrs. Reed.

Mrs. Hansen reclined on a large four poster bed. Mrs. Reed knelt on the bed, her face buried in the muff between Greta Hansen’s legs. The large blonde woman held a riding switch in her hand and snapped it down across the bared buttocks of her ‘friend’ as Ida Reed licked the sex of her employer. A multitude of red striations covered the bare bottom of Ida Reed attesting to the fact that they had been at it for some time....

Ida moaned when the switch hit, but kept her tongue firmly in place, working frantically, her head bobbing up and down. Then Greta Hansen moaned and threw her head back. Her body shuddered in climax.

This was unbelievable! Mrs. Hansen and Mrs. Reed? Lovers? And in these wild get ups? She’d seen pictures like these in forbidden magazines, but had never thought for a minute that such things were real. Letting her gaze wander, she saw other things too. The room was painted black and red. Mirrors were everywhere. There was a block of some sort with straps for restraint. There was a large X-shaped frame with manacles at the ends. Various straps and paddles hung on hooks along the wall. No wonder they spanked and paddled the girls and boys in their house. It was all fuel for…for…this! They probably came down here on Sunday nights after the reckoning. Then a chilling thought hit her. Had any of their boarders been taken down here? Maybe for some special attention?

But it was what she heard next that was to have such long range consequences. Greta Hansen stood. Ida was still on her hands and knees. She started to rise.

“Did I say you could get up? I’m not finished with you.”

“Greta, please,” said Ida....

Greta Hansen frowned. With an arm like a steel band she encircled Ida Reed’s waist, held her fast and gave her a dozen brisk spanks on her bare bottom while Ida squealed, drumming her toes on the bed.

“Don’t lie to me, woman. I know you. You always have an eye out for the fresh ones, the innocent ones, don’t you?”

“No Greta. It’s only you. I swear.”

“Well, I hope so, pet. Because if I catch you cheating on me…well, you know. You’ll be on that X-cross getting the whipping of your life. Then we’ll be done. You’ll be back on the street. Understand? I won’t put up with it.”

“Yes, Greta.” Ida Reed practically whimpered.

“Now get ready, girl.” Ida threw her head back and moaned, whether in pain or pleasure, Lisa couldn’t say. But she’d seen enough. She was now in possession of a very big secret. She rose and tiptoed away.

* * *

James listened to Lisa in stunned silence. His jaw dropped as Lisa recounted her foray into the basement and its secret pleasure room.

“No wonder the basement is off limits,” said James. “I’ve heard of these things, but wow! Right here—and Mrs. Hansen being such a Christian and all. But now, with what Mrs. Reed did, with me I mean, I don’t doubt you for a minute. But, so what?” he said scratching his head.

“Don’t you see? She’s jealous. Mrs. Hansen suspects her lesbian lover of wanting you.” Lisa gestured with her hands, emphasizing her point. “If she catches Mrs. Reed with you, she’ll throw her out. Then that problem will be over for you.”

James nodded slowly.

“You do want that, don’t you?” But even as she said it, Lisa wondered. James seemed lost in thought. “Don’t you?”

James recovered. “Yes, yes. Of course.” He ran his hand through his hair. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure. Whenever he received a summons from Mrs. Reed, he broke into a cold sweat but his cock stood straight up. But here was this girl, a pretty girl who seemed to really like him. The lure of Mrs. Reed was strong. It was like a drug. But he knew it was a drug he had to quit. “So. Do you have any ideas? Mrs. Reed will be more careful now. She may not want to have me come to her after…what you saw.”

“She will if she is jealous. Look how she manipulated you into paddling Fran and me. It broke you and Fran apart. It worked. Fran is still mad.”

“Yeah, I know. So how do I make her jealous? Fran isn’t even speaking to me now.”

Lisa looked at James and said softly, “with me.”

“With you?”

“Yes. Let her catch us making out or something. She will be insanely jealous. Like you said.”

“Us? Making out?” James looked at Lisa in a new light. He’d been so distraught about Fran that he hadn’t noticed that Lisa had not only forgiven him, but she had listened to his shameful confession without condemning him. And she now proposed to help him out of his predicament. The idea was definitely appealing.

“Yes,” said Lisa. “She won’t tell Mrs. Hansen but she’ll send for you. You’ll tell me when it happens and I’ll find Mrs. Hansen. I’ll tell her there is a strange noise on the fourth floor. I’ll take her up there and she’ll catch Mrs. Reed in the act.”

“She’ll catch me in the act, too,” said James ruefully.

“You can say she made you do it. Say she was blackmailing you. Mrs. Hansen will be so mad at Mrs. Reed she’ll believe it. Problem solved.” Lisa smiled like she had planned a clever caper, just like in the movies.

It all sounded so simple…

It's a good plan, but will it work?