In the News

Our daily newspaper includes a weekly summary of the local criminal court cases, and this one caught my eye. "Man Strips, Uses Belt" was the headline. A local cab driver bore the brunt of a drunken rage as an intoxicated man stripped off his clothes and beat the cab with his belt.

It seems that a taxi driver was sitting in his cab at around 1 am when a group of intoxicated young men surrounded the vehicle. The taxi driver was unable to drive away and summoned police on his phone. One of the men took off his clothes and began whacking the cab with his belt. After they decided that the vehicle had been sufficiently punished and had learned its lesson, the group left the scene. Police apprehended the belt-swinging suspects a few blocks away.

That cabbie had a good story to tell his wife when he got home. Perhaps he even re-enacted it for her benefit.

Download this amazing app

First there was the iPod. Then came the iPhone, followed by the iPad. Now, the latest technological innovation is here: the iBelt. Just strap it on, and when a certain someone needs a spanking but isn't close enough to swat, use this app to administer correction virtually.

No, not really, The iBelt isn't spanking-related, but it does save your hide when you are doing something naughty.

Uneven

Last week Ron finished off our spanking session with a twist.

He had begun with the leather belt, and after a stingy start, I had settled in to enjoy the luxurious ouch that only leather can produce. Each swat landed across both cheeks, doubling both pleasure and pain.

"Now for the finale," he said, and, picking up a brown wooden paddle, he proceeded to paddle my left cheek. After several swats he stopped, regarded the effect, then paddled it some more.

"Hey!" I protested. "What are you doing? What about the right side? I'm feeling uneven."

"I'm trying to even you up," he explained as he continued. "Your right cheek is darker than your left, so I'm evening them up."

"What?" Then I realized what has happened. "The right side got more from the end of the belt, and the other side only got the middle."

"That's right, so I'm fixing it." Ron is so meticulous, and sometimes that's a good thing.This time, I'm not so sure.

So my question to you is, when a belt is your spanking implement, do you give - or get - strokes on both cheeks at once? Or are they delivered to one cheek at a time?

The Belt Survey I like the belt to be applied: To both cheeks at once First one cheek then the other A combination of both We don't use a belt Current Results

Wednesday WIN

A very clever logo as seen on the Graphic Design blog.

The logo was designed to "question" old-fashioned parenting methods. This blog does not condone physical punishment of children.

A Belt needs a Steady Hand

A band from Newfoundland called Buddy Wasisname and the Other Fellers is currently on tour. These guys have  quirky sense of humour, and have named their tour The Steady Belt Tour.

Considering that one of their albums is called Whipper Snipper, I think there's something vaguely spankoesque about this band. Take a look at this extract from their promotional material:

Now let it be known that we really don’t need to leave our cozy little sanctuaries at all. No sir. We’ve stashed away our winter’s supplies of moose, codfish, berries, vegetables and favourite wines and don’t need to budge.

However, given the state of uncertainty and misery in this great land we’re going to tear ourselves away from our little realms of paradise and launch out on a mercy mission.

Armed with ample doses of happy vaccines we will criss cross the province and country inoculating all those in need. Everyone is high priority.

So to all our dear and loyal patients, we ask you to line up for your shots. No queue jumpers, please. Pull up those sleeves or pull down your pants. This is private medicine at its best.

Ron's Alter Ego

Friday Fail - NOT

This picture was posted on Failblog, and when i saw it, I wondered why. A highway sign of Belt Route is a WIN in my book!

Unique Belts

Aren't these lovely belts? Look closely. These are belts with a difference. They are made, not from leather, but from used bicycle tires. Wouldn't they pack a wallop!

Thanks to my favourite radio station, CBC Radio 1, I heard about a small cottage industry that makes home furnishings like speakers, lamps and wall decorations out of discarded items. They had recently won an award for making speakers out of a tractor tire, if I recall correctly.

Bon Eco's website is really interesting; do check it out. Here's another of my favourite photos from that site: a wall hanging made from tractor tires.

It would set the tone in any spanko's home.

Please Sir, I want some more

Two weekends ago I was lying across Ron's lap and he was energetically applying the riding crop to my bared bottom. As he spanked, I mused. (I'm good at multi-tasking.) It was funny, I thought, that the last time he had used it, he had switched to a different implement because I hadn't been reacting to it much. I had been disappointed with it too.

How different things were this time. The little hand on the end of the crop was making its presence known. Had Ron been practising? Or was he simply giving me harder strokes?

Then the swats stopped as Ron paused to admire his handiwork and to see what effect it was having on me. His hand gently rubbed my hot cheeks, then slipped in between them to rub even more gently. The rubbing became a little firmer and more rhythmic, and I realized we had moved on to the next phase. That was fine.


Or was it? The riding crop had felt good. I wanted more. When he continued his ministrations I weighed the odds. I knew where this was headed - where I was headed - and that was nice too, but first, I had to feel the crop sear my buttocks again. Should I speak up? Or should I go with the flow?

I made up my rapidly-dissolving mind.

"May I have a little more?" I whispered. Ron immediately withdrew his hand, and in a heartbeat I felt the welcome, rhythmic pain once more. He kept it up until I stopped squirming and ow-ing and settled into it. Then he put down the crop and picked up from where he had left off. This time I didn't stop him and, well, you'll just have to imagine the rest

"Do I have lots of little handprints on my bum?" I asked later, as we cuddled together.

"Dozens," Ron affirmed, and I couldn't wait to see them for myself.



The following weekend found me on my elbows and knees on the bed after Ron had decided that the belt hadn't been taken out of the drawer for quite a while. He made that implement hurt a lot more than I remembered, but it was such a good hurt.

Sets of whacks with the belt alternated with periods of caresses on my sore posterior. Each time the belt resumed its task, I felt it less and less, although I could tell that Ron was using more force. When he finally put the belt down, I sighed and started to roll onto my side. Ron put a hand on my back to stop me and asked, "Enough?"

I was thrilled at his considerate question. "You've never asked me that before," I replied, somewhat flustered. Should I ask for more? I thought it was over, and was okay with that. But this might be my chance to go for the hour-long spanking. Should I? Shouldn't I?

I lay back, then pulled Ron down beside me.

What a gentleman! In future I won't hesitate to ask for what I need, but then again, I may never have to ask.

Corrie Kinkiness

I've been watching my favourite soap - Coronation Street - for kinkiness, and haven't seen anything good lately, so here are a few snippets from a while back that I've been saving until I had a good collection to post. If you missed my first post on Corrie spanking, here it is.

---

Sean, the gay barman, casually says to Norris, a straight-laced shop assistant "What can I get you, love?"

When Norris objects to being called "love", Sean snaps back, "Well beat me on the bottom with a rolled up [newspaper]!" (I couldn't make out the last word, even though I played the scene three times. Sometimes the accents and vocabulary are beyond me.)

---

In a discussion about redecorating the pub:

Decorator: "I'm thinking leather."
Pub landlady: "And that's for staff."

---

A restaurant owner (formerly a prostitute) is in the corner shop, asking if she can put an advertisement for waiting staff in the window. The bookie from across the street, who happens to overhear her, queries, "Advertising your services in the local shop window?. What is it - French polishing* or touch typing with shorthand?"

* The vanilla meaning of this term is applying a coating of shellac and alcohol to wood to produce a high gloss. However, it also means administering a methodical and thorough spanking with a leather strap, so that the end product is a pair of buttocks that are uniformly and evenly dark red. Nicely finished, as it were.

---

The same pair of characters later meet in the restaurant. The bookie orders a bottle of champagne and asks the restaurant owner to help him drink it. When she says, "You're a bad influence" he replies cheekily, "Well, if I'm naughty, feel free to punish me."

I can see where this is going! And by the way, a giant wooden fork and spoon hanging on the wall are very conspicuous in this scene.

---

Speaking of hanging on the wall, the sign on the cab firm's wall reminds everyone:

Wherever there's a belt
Wear it

It refers to seatbelts, but I thought it might be more fun if the sign said "Use it".

Belt, Redux

The bed was turned down, the bedside lamps glowed, the pillows were stacked at the foot of the bed, and Ron was waiting. I love watching the look of pleasure appear on his face when he sees me wearing something sexy. I had on a very short, clingy slip - pale pink and grey, with tiny straps and a flounce at the bottom. It barely concealed the pink thong I wore underneath. I shivered, partly in anticipation of what was going to happen to me very soon, and partly because the weather had turned cool, and I was feeling somewhat underdressed for the temperature in the room.

Ron put his arms around me and proceded to explore. When he discovered my bare bottom, he lifted the skirt up so he could caress them it easily. Then he released me and turned to choose an implement, and the fabric stayed up, leaving my cheeks exposed. I couldn't help glancing in the mirror; this was SO hot.

It got hotter. When he turned around with the belt in his hand, my thoughts flashed to my last very exciting belt encounter (thank you, Spanking Blog, for featuring it) and wondered if this one would come close to matching it.

My mind returned to the business at hand as Ron bent me over the end of the bed. He pulled the thong down, but he left the slip in place. He rarely allows me to keep any clothing on during a spanking, and the thought of being partially clothed with my bare bum presented made the scene even more thrilling for me.

Then there was the belt itself. Always exciting. I buried my head in the blanket and squealed when it bit especially hard, but I wasn't too distressed. Ron knows how to space the hard swats with milder ones in between. Then he decided to move to the next stage of enjoyment; putting the belt down, he entered me from behind. As he started to thrust, he also rhythmically spanked my bottom very hard with his hand. OW! Now that did hurt. He couldn't reach my sit spots - for obvious reasons - so he swatted the upper parts of my cheeks, which he could reach just fine. My squeals became louder and more sincere, and I grabbed handfuls of bedding. I was impaled and couldn't get away, even if I wanted to. But I didn't.

When our fun was over and we had both enjoyed ourselves completely, I returned to the mirror once more while Ron dressed. Both cheeks were completely red from top to bottom. My goodness, he really had done a thorough job. I usually see red only on the lower portion. I rubbed gently; the skin was hot to the touch.

When the weather outside is chilly, my lover really knows how to turn up the heat.

I'm in Trouble - NOT!

In my eternal quest for the perfect belt, I found a lovely one at the local thrift store. It's quite similar to the one in the above picture: thick, black, reasonably wide, and just my size. This one is primarily intended to hold up my jeans, although if Ron would care to sample it as a spanking implement, he's more than welcome. Best of all, it's a genuine Versace, in excellent condition. The name is printed on the metal loop next to the buckle and embossed on the belt itself. And all for a few dollars!

One morning, I laid out my clothing on the bed, and this belt was somewhere in the pile. Fluffy was still snuggled under the blankets but watched me assemble my outfit. I then went to have a shower, and when I came back, there was Fluffy, contentedly chewing on the end of my beautiful belt. I snatched it away and examined the soggy, irregular end; it was now fat and puffy and wouldn't fit through the metal loop beside the buckle. Fluffy, who is not a puppy and should have better manners, sulked because I had confiscated his before-breakfast snack.

I showed the damage to Ron, who assured me that he would do what he could to repair the damage, or at least make it less noticeable. And he did. After letting the dog saliva dry, he trimmed, glued, pressed and painted, and a few hours later proudly showed me his handiwork. I thanked him and hung the belt up to wear the next day.

The following morning again found me assembling my outfit. Striped pullover, grey pants, socks, belt and underwear. Then I went downstairs to get my first cup of coffee before showering. When I came back, Ron was there, and Fluffy was beside him on the bed. Both were staring at a very well-chewed belt, although for different reasons.

"You left your belt on the bed again?" It was a question I didn't want to answer.

"I only left the room for a minute. I didn't think..." I said contritely. Then, "Don't worry about fixing it again."

"I won't." Ron left the bedroom abruptly, and I recognized that tone of voice. Oh well, I could probably do something about the damage myself. I hung the belt on the back of the door to dry and headed to the bathroom to shower.

I considered tossing the belt out, but hated to part with it. It fit so well. After my shower, I dressed then turned to look at the belt and see what needed to be done. It was gone. I checked inside the closet, but it wasn't there. Then I peeked into Ron's study. There on his desk was the belt, a bottle of glue, scissors and black marker. He was ready to repair it all over again.

Awww. Isn't he good to me? Although I'm betting that he'd probably like to improve my memory by applying that belt to a certain part of my anatomy, once the glue dries. But that won't happen. Ron doesn't give discipline spankings. In our house, punishment means NO spanking. When I asked if I was in trouble, he said, "No, there will be no trouble." So I guess you could say I'm NOT in for it.

Maybe I'd better think of a way to thank him for his hard work, and ensure my bottom gets toasted on Sunday.

A Spankable Chef

A television personality that I used to find very irritating but have grown to tolerate, if not love, is Rachael Ray. I have become a semi-regular viewer of her latest cooking show, Thirty Minute Meals. Granted, she is still irritatingly perky and peppy, and uses odd verbal shorthand like "EVOO" for extra-virgin olive oil. But she does have one redeeming feature. Besides the fact that nearly all her meals look and sound delicious and very quick and easy, that is.

That feature is her beautiful leather belt. Rachael almost always wears jeans on the show, and her usual accessory is a wide, well-worn brown leather belt.

Is she spankable? She certainly deserves a spanking for being so bouncy. The camera rarely allows us a glimpse of her derriere. When she turns around to get something from the fridge or a cupboard, another camera quickly takes over so we only get a side view. I suspect she might be a little self-conscious about that part of her anatomy.

If you enjoy belts as much as I do, the show is worth a peek. Who knows? You might come away with a good idea for supper!

Remove Those Belts

Toy bears and other animals dressed like Mounties are being recalled from souvenir shops all across Canada because of their belts.
Why? Not because they're too kinky. The reason is, the level of lead in their belts is too high. In addition, the buttons present a choking hazard. "Mounties" are members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and one of the familiar symbols of Canada, dressed in their scarlet tunics, brown hats, and leather belts.
The article advises that owners of the toys should strip those Mounties bare. I have visions of small stuffed toys being turned over the knees of foreign visitors and being given a spanking.

Oh, Martha

When I see a message in my inbox with the subject line "Organizing Belts" you can bet I'll open that one first.
It was from Martha Stewart, and I have to share it with you here.
The belts in the picture look a bit wimpy and fuzzy; they don't do a thing for me. I'd keep them rolled up and hidden in a drawer too.
If you read the article, you'll see that she does advise the alternative of hanging belts from a hook. She agrees that they should be stored so that "they are neat and accessible."
I still haven't seen Martha come up with her version of a St. Andrew's cross but I think this bedside stand has definite possibilities.

A Belt with a Difference

As I drove past Tim Horton's--a quick service restaurant--I saw a poster announcing a new breakfast item:


I'm a huge fan of belts, but one made out of bagels? That would make for an interesting spanking. The image of a series of bagels being threaded onto a sturdy leather belt also came to mind.
Maybe the drive-through offers fast spanking as well as fast food.

The Belt Rondo

As a musician, my favourite form of classical music is the rondo. In a way a rondo is like a song with several verses plus a chorus that everyone can sing along with because it's always the same. A rondo doesn't have words, but it does have a repeated melody that is heard at the beginning, again at the end, and once or twice in the middle. The bits in between are very different from one other. Each passage might be fast, slow, loud, soft, or use a different rhythm.
A familiar example of a rondo is Beethoven's Fur Elise, which some of you probably have as a ring tone on your cell phones.
What does all this have to do with spanking? Good question. The idea came to me after Ron had given me quite a creative one.
He started by rubbing my bottom. I love it when Ron does that, because it feels good and because I know it's the preparation for a spanking. This time was no exception.
He picked up the belt and got down to business. Whack! The first stroke landed on my left cheek. Then another. And again and again, all on the same spot. Then four on the right. He alternated this way from one side to the other and I squirmed as the sting from the strokes mounted up on one side until it was almost too much. Then as he switched to the other side the pain increased again while the first side recovered. It was quite a roller-coaster ride.
Then he switched to rubbing and gave me a short recovery time.
The second round of swats was completely different from the first, and unusual as well. Instead of landing across my bottom, the belt struck vertically from top to bottom. That was new and hurt more than usual because the top of my posterior rarely gets that much attention. It definitely took my breath away.
More familiar gentle rubbing and massaging helped me regain my composure as best I could.
Then the familiar strokes across each cheek in turn: left, right, left, right. Ron increased the tempo of his attack and the swats came fast and furious.
Then he massaged and caressed my hot cheeks for the final time.
As for what followed, I'll describe that by introducing one more musical term - a cadenza. No it's not a piece of furniture. It's a very exciting passage that sometimes occurs at the end of a musical composition. It is energetic, emotional, unpredictable, and builds in intensity to a thrilling climax at the end.

Kinky Crafts

Every day I receive an e-mail from Martha Stewart's website with a new craft idea. Many of them are pretty mundane, but some have a decidedly kinky aura. Here are some that might be vanilla, but then again, might not be.

Belt buckle picture frame (to preserve the memories of all those lovely spankings)

Cane top table (what to do with worn out or outgrown canes)

Peg rack (for displaying implements)

Memory board (for photos of red, striped or marked bottoms)

Portable study station (obviously doubles as a spanking bench)

Gateleg sewing table (folds down when not in use for discipline)

Shibori scarf (for bondage with that elegant touch)

Spectacular pillows (to elevate the bottom just enough)

Japanese beads (perfect to wear with leather)

Birch trivets (a tasteful way to reuse those birch rods)

And then there was the video called "Five creative uses for household items". I leave that one to your imagination.

Time for Arnica

Recently I visited a small homeopathic remedy shop to buy another tube of arnica creme. I remember the first time I bought some there. The man behind the counter told me he sells a lot of it. Aha! Spankos in the neighbourhood.

I always rub arnica on my bottom cheeks after I have been spanked with a belt. Except for a couple of notable exceptions,* the only time I ever have marks is when the belt has been applied. It's probably because the belt reaches farther to the side of my right cheek than shorter implements do, and the flesh there is less used to being spanked.

Some of you incorporate rubbing lotion or arnica onto a sore bottom as part of aftercare. We don't. Ron has an aversion to anything he thinks is 'icky' and lotions and cremes fall into that category. (Honestly, I don't
know how he manages to force himself to apply sunblock every morning. Probably closes his eyes and thinks of England skin cancer.) So it's all up to me.

I'm really doing it for Ron's benefit, not mine. To him it is a sign that he has caused me harm. Marks don't bother me, but the thought that he might be less inclined to use one of my favourite implements on me does. Hence the precaution.

Right now, I have a small bruise from just such an encounter, and can feel a lump under the skin. I'm rubbing arnica on it three times daily, like the label says. It didn't actually prevent the mark, but I assume it will reduce the discolouration and healing time.

Arnica experts, is that correct?

*My first marks were five perfect finger prints. I was so proud of them!

The View From Here - Positions

There are so many positions a man can put a woman into in order to give her a spanking. Some sound uncomfortable, some require furniture we don't have, and some seem like they'd be just right.

The Fantasy - There's a wonderful pair of pictures in Consensual Spanking by Jules Markham. They clearly show, using stick figures with little round heads and little round bottoms, more than two dozen positions for the spankee to assume. I would like to photocopy and enlarge the diagrams and pin them to the bedroom wall. We would then try each one, crossing out the ones that didn't appeal and circling the keepers.

The Reality - My usual position is face down along the length of the bed. I have recently tried putting a couple of firm pillows underneath me. Mentally it makes a huge difference; I feel 'presented'. Physically, it brings the target area into perfect alignment with my husband's aim, which results in the sit spots getting most of the action. Much better. So that counts as two. Sometimes, if the pillows aren't available, I'll shift to elbows and knees. That's three.

I once came into the bedroom to find Ron sitting on the side of the bed. So I asked him, "Would you like to put me over your knee and spank me?"
"No."
Oh. "Why not?"
"Dunno."
Oh.

That's still three.

And then there was the time we began cuddling on the couch, then decided to move the action upstairs to the bedroom. I got there first, and was standing with my back to the door, wearing only a long t-shirt, when Ron came up behind me, still fully clothed. He placed his hand on the center of my back and firmly pushed me down over the end of the bed. I helpfully lifted the shirt up out of the way. He began to spank me with his hand, quite hard, alternating left and right. But he was standing too close. The swats were landing either too high, or on the outsides of my cheeks. Not very nice.

Then he stopped. Before I could look back to see what was happening, I heard the magical song of the belt loops. I braced myself, and felt the doubled leather strike exactly on my sweet spot, over and over. With almost every stroke, electricity surged to that special place deep within my body. I was supremely content.

And that's four.