Where will I shop now?

My favourite site for spanking implements announced some time ago that it was closing. I still receive regular emails from Cane-iac with special offers, and they seem to have the usual full range of products, but I can no longer go to their site. This message turns me away:

You are not authorized to access this site.

Aww, please let me in. I was one of your best customers. Is anyone else having the same problem?

Slava Ukraini
Glory to Ukraine

Festivus

Last year I gave Ron a lovely red and green striped cane for Christmas. He was suitably grateful, and at the first opportunity he showed his gratitude by trying it out on my bottom. The experience was less than gratifying. The cane was just too thick for our liking, and produced too much of a thud. It was rather like being spanked with a small baseball bat. So we agreed that it has been a lovely thought, but the implement would not be included in the regular rotation.

"It would make a good Festivus tree," Ron observed. So that's what I did.

For those of you who weren't fans of the long-running comedy show Seinfeld, Festivus is a non-commercial alternative to Christmas, celebrated on December 23. "A Festivus for the rest of us" is how it is explained in the show, as a reference to the day's non-commercial aspect. A Festivus celebration traditionally includes a dinner without turkey or ham, followed by the "Airing of Grievances" and "Feats of Strength".

We'll include the Festivus tree in our holiday decorations this year, but I don't know about the rest. Meatloaf just doesn't cut it as a substitute for the traditional turkey.

The Assessment

Earlier this month I wrote about Ron's three new implements, and last weekend he had a chance to try them out. He had placed them in a row on the bed, and invited me to choose a fourth weapon from the toybox. In keeping with the colour scheme I selected the red and black ping pong paddle.

Ron started with the paddle, and it was more ouchy than I remembered, as we had not had a chance to play for longer than usual. Still, it felt nice and familiar.

The pink rod was next. It's about the size and shape of an 18" wooden ruler but twice as thick. It was thuddy and the impact was not at all pleasant.

"Ow!" I complained.

"Does that hurt?" Ron asked. I suspect it was meant as a rhetorical question.

"Of course it hurts, you--" I restrained myself just in time.

"Does that feel better?" Ron had put the evil implement down and was gently rubbing my sore bottom with his warm hand.

"Mmm, much better." I thought I knew where this was leading.

Ron quickly switched to the striped cane. It packed the same sort of wallop as the ruler: heavy and thuddy. In between strokes and ouches, I could hear the clink of a belt buckle being undone, and the rustle of jeans sliding to the floor.

His last implement, the loopy Johnny, nearly sent me from the room. Boy, did that ever sting! After only a few swats Ron pressed himself against me while continuing to apply the loop to the upper portion of my backside. It was a delicious combination of pain and pleasure.

"Does that hurt?" Why does he keep on asking dumb questions?

Then Ron moved away and pulled me up from the bed. "Maybe this will feel better." I knew what was expected, so I dropped to my knees and paid some close attention to a certain part of his anatomy. This was much better than the coloured cane. My husband expressed his delight in my attentions, and I was sure our afternoon delight was at an end, but it seems it wasn't.

"We can continue," Ron said, "but maybe you'd rather pick something else." He knew the new toys were a bit over the top.

"Maybe, but first let's try them again."

He picked up the pink ruler and applied it with medium effort, and this time it didn't feel too bad at all. The prior warmup and the brief respite had given my posterior a chance to adjust. It was still thuddy and heavy, but didn't hurt quite as much. The cane was similarly bearable but not pleasant. The loopy Johnny was only a little less awful. I continued to protest and Ron thought that was humorous. I could hear him chuckling.

"What are you laughing at?"

"It's your own fault. You bought these."

"They were on sale. It was a Christmas - ouch! - special."

Afterwards we both agreed that while it had been a nice gesture, the implements were just too heavy. The terrible trio would be reserved for special occasions only, and would not be a regular part of our play.

You Completed the Caption

This sketch promted some hilarious captions, and here they are!


Simon: I'm sorry Mr Darwin but I still don't see how evolution explains why female buttocks are so delightful to spank.

Six of the best: The first gentlemen says, as they are on there way to witness a flogging given to a female spy. "The authorities tell me that her bare bottom is most voluptuous". The second gentlemen says. "I wonder what it will look like after, she is given 25 strokes from a pliable stinging cane".

SNP: "A firm hand and good spanking always keeps Charlotte in line when she gets into mischief."
"Charles, ol' boy, I think you might be right. Meg is going to feel this cane on her bottom for her latest antics."
"Sounds like our ladies will both have trouble sitting comfortable at the play later on."
"Indeed it does my friend." And with that the parted ways to take their women in hand.

Minelle:  I understand you are feeling powerless, but you must assert your authority! Take control of your wayward wife my good man. Spank her bottom!

Ricky: Hey, bro, do you have a cough-drop?
No, afraid not.
Blast! I guess we'll just have to make our own, then.

Ronnie: "Caruthers, I was most impressed how you dealt with your kitchen maid. You must show me that cane technique."

Red: Best we practise walking with our heads down. When we get home, our wives will want our heads down while they lecture us on the evils of drinking, and then those damnable swishy canes will have us singing louder than we were at the pub... and this time not a merry tune.

Young Lady: The brothers loved putting their listing up on Craigslist "Identical Twins looking for a good time" and scaring all of the frat boys!

Bonnie: Thereafter, the phrase "blind leading the blind" was applied to all manner of ill-advised adventures.

Dave Wolfe: "Thanks awfully, old friend, something restorative at the pub will be very welcome indeed. Who would have thought caning a mere houseful of young women would make me feel my age so?"

Poppy: The one on the right is saying, "I spanked her just as hard as I could but nothing, nothing I tell you."
The one on the left reassures him, "Never fear old chap, we will go back together and she will feel our canes. We will sort her out."

Vfrat25000: Craig, my fake beard itches like crazy.
Mine too but if we can sneak into the Ladies Dormitory at Yale it will all be worth it!

Why are we walking arm in arm?
 I don’t know! But I kind of like it!
 Me too!

I think there is something alive in my beard!
Give it a rest, Poindexter. Last week you thought you invented the Internet!

Do you really think this cloak and dagger disguise stuff is all that necessary just to attend a spanking party?

Hurry up William. I need to go pee!

Finally. Let’s get started. The judges for the Wet T-Shirt contest have arrived!

Lea: Tom and Joe thought the outfits would hide their identities on the way to the spanking party, but it just ended up making them more conspicuous.

Lillie: I know, me too, Reginald. I am so glad we unloaded our stocks in RCA and booked passage on the Titanic.

Ana: Guy on left, under his breath: Stop grimacing. It can't have hurt that much.
Guy on right, grimacing: Let's see you spanked with your own cane and see how much you smile.

Hermione:  Watson, you behaved abominably at the club, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to cane you before sending you home to your wife.

A. Lurker: "Well Nigel, that was a real waste of time. We spend all afternoon donning this attire, not to mention the fortune we spent on these canes, in preparation for the spanking party."
"I agree, Sebastian. Then it ends up as a sausage fest!"

Prefectdt: The anti Gillette revolutionaries where still being picked up by the authorities, no matter how low key they made their meetings.


Thank you all for having fun with me this weekend. Have a great week!

Speaking of Canes

Last week I wrote about canes being used in a scientific experiment, and I later realized that I've never told you about our experience with one. Thank you, Ronnie, for reminding me.

We have a Senior cane, but it's the short kind, with a straight handle. I had thought it would sting, but it turned out to be quite thuddy. It's about as thick as the dressage whip, but because it is rigid rather than supple and isn't tapered at the end, it delivers a solid whack that isn't as painful.

In fact, it looks and feels just like a perch from our budgies' cage.

So when Ron uses it, I usually think of the budgies and I start to giggle. Or sometimes I ask him if he's been shopping at Home Depot for wooden dowels. Often he uses it as a single drumstick, and taps out rhythms to songs that I have to guess the names of. Far from being frightening or formidable, our cane is a source of much amusement.

I wonder if a Junior cane might generate a bit more respect.

You Completed the Caption

This was the caption I liked best from HistoricLOLs, but I like all of yours better!


Simon: "Personally Watson, I think Holmes may be taking the case of the Hyde Park Spanker a little to seriously."
"Well LeStrade, I think it's an improvement on the deerstalker and cape look."

Kitty: From the point of view of the woman, "I can't believe I have to see that man in public, after he spanked me at the party the other night. He's probably telling his friend all about it. I could just die!"

Kitty 2: The man on the right: "Tom! Eyes off her! Feel the head of my cane against your arse, right now? That's right. You're getting that and much worse if you don't remember that your eyes belong to me."

Over her lap: "After a remark like Miss Cathrine just made, I think it is time for her to get a taste of my cane on her bare bottom once again Watson, it seems to work wonders for her attitude".

Red: Could you ever imagine that, dear Watson? She is walking allowing her dress to drag in the dirt... This evening, she will practice holding that dress up, albeit much higher, with her knickers now touching the floor for a jolly good caning. I will teach her to be more lady like in public.

Ronnie: "Charles my boy, did you see that fine lady? What a sight she would be bent over my study desk."

"Charles, don't look back but that was Sir Henry's new young wife and rumor has it he canes her just like he does his servants."

Prefectdt: "I don't want to hurt her but every time she sees me with my cane in hand, she insists that I do."

Six of the Best: "My cane, would pain, with a cut to her butt," said one of these gentlemen. "That would be fine, and Oh!, sublime." said the other.

Vfrat25000: "I say Mr. Jones, wasn’t that a fine example of womanhood that just passed us?"
"I don’t know Mr. Franks. I really didn’t pay much attention...I need to ask you something. Does this coat make me look fat?"

What did that lady just call us? Something about we would make a couple of excellent TOPS. I wonder what she meant by that?

These Spanking Party Themes are getting to be a bit much. I’m about to pass out from the heat and trying to spank one of those ladies all gusseted up is like trying to get in your car after you lock the keys in it.

This whole “Pick Up Spankees in the Park” thing is not working out. I’m not sure that author Mark Twain really knows anything about spanking.

This is a waste of time Charles. Let’s just go back Hooligan’s Bar. I know I can talk the Widow Hawkins into letting us give her six of the best each.

Dave Wolfe: "Yes, Watson, that does remind me how often I have wished I might have soundly spanked the redoubtable Irene Adler. Let's get on to Simpson's and please do not introduce any other tiresome subjects."

(Hm, four of us thought of Holmes! I didn't look at the other comments before making mine! Reaffirming, Hermione, that you have readers of fine taste.)

I certainly do!

Lea: "Double team caning?" "Yes, yes that sounds quite nice."

Ricky: "You know, I think that young woman just winked at me."
"No . . . really?"


Thank you, everyone, for ushering April in with a bang. See you all next week!

Complete the Caption

These two gentlemen are deep in conversation. Do you suppose the topic is the elegant lady who just passed by?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment, and I will publish your speculations in the next post.

Walkies

Ron and I go for a walk together as often as we can, weather permitting. It's good exercise, and gives us a chance to explore our neighbourhood and to observe things that we would otherwise miss while driving past. Ron always carries a walking stick in case we are approached by an agressive dog. City by-laws don't permit dogs to run loose, but some people let them do so anyway, so it's best to be prepared.

But Ron finds the cane...er, walking stick, handy in other ways. For example, when I have to stop and tie my shoelace (curse those round laces; I must replace them with flat ones) I sometimes feel a sharp tap on my bottom, urging me to hurry so we can resume walking. While crossing the road, I may step in front of him, cutting him off, and he registers his displeasure with a smack of the cane on my posterior. Or if I'm lagging behind, he will use the stick as motivation to get a move on.

What pleases me most is that he's doing this where people can see. Not that there are many people outside in the cold weather, except for a few other walkers. But I like to think that there is someone sitting at a window, observing the passers-by, who sees a man swatting a woman on the backside, and then sees the woman laugh. And the watcher will frown or smile at what he has seen.

You broke my cane!

It's true! Last week I actually broke a cane. Yes, it was me, not Ron. But it wasn't on my bottom. To be honest, it wasn't actually a cane;  Ron prefers to call it a walking stick.

Let me start from the beginning. We went for a walk, and because of the icy road conditions, I slipped and twisted my ankle. I didn't actually fall, and it didn't hurt much, so we continued our walk. But once we returned home and I had settled down to read, my foot started to throb quite painfully. I rubbed it a bit, and tried to ignore it, but when the phone rang, I could only limp slowly across the room to pick up the receiver. Ron brought me some pain pills and gave me a nice foot massage, which helped quite a bit. By dinner time I struggled to stand up and had to hold onto various pieces of furniture to reach the stairs. It was going to be a long evening.

"Think of it as a spanking," Ron encouraged me as I climbed the stairs. Yes, I'd thought of that too, but somehow the pain in my foot was much different from the familiar pain in my bottom. I was going to need some help, and I saw just what I needed when I reached the top of the stairs. Ron's walking sticks were in a corner beside the front door. He always carried one when he goes for a walk, to fend off any loose dogs roaming the neighborhood. I selected the shortest one, a light wooden cane with a carved horn handle, and experimented. It helped immensely, and I was able to get to the kitchen with minimal difficulty.

While Ron prepared dinner, I sat at the kitchen table, my foot resting on a chair, and supervised. I felt a bit guilty letting my husband do all the work, so i thought I could do a little to assist him. I tried to stand, leaned too heavily on cane and the handle snapped off with a loud crack.

"Sorry, I broke your cane," I apologized, and sat down again.

"It's not a cane, it's a walking stick. It doesn't matter; I can fix it." Ron brought me a sturdier metal one that I wouldn't be able to break, stood it in the corner behind me, then went off to find some glue.

I left the rest of the meal preparations in Ron's capable hands, and the result was delicious. When we had finished dinner, he asked if if needed any help. I said he could pass me the cane.

"You want me to cane you?" Well, maybe later. I wasn't exactly in the mood for more pain at the moment.

I managed to struggle down the stairs with the help of the stick and the railing. Ron was right behind me, and as I reached the bottom, he gave my seat a couple of smart spanks as a little encouragement. Talk about motivation!

A few more painkillers and a good night's rest did the trick. By the next day I had recovered enough to walk unaided, and the broken cane was also feeling much better.

I'll have to remember to take him up on that offer of a caning.

Storage Wars

The other night I wandered into the family room where Ron was watching an episode of Storage Wars on television. If you haven't seen it, it's a weekly program about people who bid on the contents of abandoned storage lockers at public auctions, in the hopes that there will be something of real value hidden inside.

I sat down to read, but my attention quickly turned to the show when I heard the word "canes." Glancing up, I saw an assortment of canes that the winning bidder had purchased and was having appraised.

I couldn't find a film clip of that episode, but I did manage to locate the script. Here is the dialogue, transcribed as it was spoken. It sometimes isn't exactly clear who is speaking - the owner or the appraiser - but you'll get the idea.

I found several canes in a locker that I supposedly overpaid for.
I'm taking these canes to a friend of mine...who deals in high-end merchandise.
There's some nice pieces.
And I just--i just got some canes in.
This came out of a great estate around Baltimore.
Carved ivory.
Mechanical canes.
What does something like that sell for?
Oh, I'm estimating in the auction about $8,000 to $10,000.
$8,000 To $10,000.
Wow.
So if his canes are worth $8,000 to $10,000, I can't wait to see what mine are worth.
Great, very nice.
Well, hopefully mine are worth a little bit more than that.
Well, let's look at yours.

This is kind of interesting.
Uh, these are a little different.
This particular cane, this is probably a whale tooth that's been put on this cane.
And this is actually a walking stick.
It's very unusual.
You know, it's got some damage.
It's a composition of maybe plastic.
  
This is really interesting here.
This is actually a plantation cane, commonly known as a slave master's cane.
Very good condition.
Well, it's good that my dad didn't have one of these, because he didn't mind giving me a good ol' whoopin' every once in a while.
You probably needed one once in a while.
I needed several.
Didn't we all?

This is probably walrus tusk on this one.
And this is more of a folk art cane.
A little crude, the carvings.
Got the alligator on it.
That's kind of interesting.
I would estimate these canes ..$150, $250 apiece for 'em.
$250 apiece means an extra 1,000 bucks.
With that and the furniture, I'm looking at $5,000 on this unit.

[laughs] - And it's a nice little collection of canes.
Fantastic.

These aren't the actual canes from the episode, but aren't they pretty?

Two Solitudes

Two Solitudes, by Hugh MacLennan, is a well-known novel about the relationship between French- and English-speaking Canadians. We studied the abridged version in school,and I was pleasantly surprised to find a reference to caning that had not been edited out along with all bedroom activity. It took place at a boys' boarding school, modeled closely on an English public school. I thought the general atitude towards corporal punishment so refreshingly pleasant and casual that I want to share it with you.

None of the masters went by a rulebook, their teaching was careful, and if the boys did not do their arithmetic, English, French, Latin, algebra and geography, they were caned for it. All the masters were very cheerful as they bent the boys over and caned them, and Sergeant-Major Croucher liked to make a small ceremony of ht, military style. When he gave them one crack, he said he was making them lance-corporals, when he gave them two they became corporals and so on up to the commissioned  ranks.

It was a matter of pride for all the boys to get a certain amount of caning, and if Croucher noticed that any of the shy ones were failing to qualify, he invented a minor crime and made them lance-corporals for the sake of their morale. When he caned shy boys he was so cheerful he made it impossible for them to be afraid. But once he bent them over he gave them a really good crack. Then they would run away with grins on their faces holding their backsides, knowing they could prove themselves men by taking down their pants and showing the red mark Croucher had given them.

Wasn't he a nice schoolmaster?

From the Top Shelf - The First Half Dozen

We continue with Obliged to Bend by B. A. Bradbury. In the previous selection Mrs Hammond, the prospective governess, was shown an amazing array of implements, and chose a cane for her own disciplinary session. It now begins.

"Then kindly raise your skirts," I said, "at the back."

She gave me one last unhappy glance then lifted her skirts to her waist. I squatted behind her and pulled her drawers down to her ankles, and she murmured as I did so, clearly ill at ease.  I guessed she had hoped to retain these for modesty's sake, but there was not the slightest chance I would allow that, out of respect for my grandfather's memory...

Her broad, full buttocks were creamy-white, smooth and beautifully rounded... I was tempted to smack her, there and then, for there's nothing quite like the feel of a firm bottom bouncing under your palm, but I refrained, not wishing to set my dignity at risk. A punishment is a serious matter, and must be conducted accordingly. A few playful slaps might be great fun (for me, at least) but could easily give the impression this was all just a game, which it most certainly was not.

So now Mrs Hammond waited, eyes shut fast, breast rising and falling rapidly; yet I delayed, savouring the moment. Then I raised the cane and tapped it lightly against her buttocks three times: tap-tap-tap.

"Oh," she gasped, buttocks clenching and back arching as she rose up onto her toes.

She had no way of knowing it, but she had just been introduced to my famous Triple-Tap-Tester. And much it had revealed to me, for I was convinced now  the woman had never been caned before. Her reaction to the gentle tap was that of a complete novice, out of all proportion to the mere tickle she received. She was a spanking virgin, which made all this doubly pleasurable for me. Like footprints across a field of freshly fallen snow, the stripes I was about to leave on her posterior would be all mine, with no one there before me...

And I could delay no longer. I drew back my arm and struck her. This was no light tap, but a lively stroke that whistled on its way. Not desperately hard, yet crisp enough to give her something to think about, it contacted Irene Hammond's behind with a satisfying thwick. She yelped and her hips jerked forward.

A second stroke followed, then a third, and a fourth. Once she realized it wasn't as bad as she'd feared, Mrs Hammond seemed to settle a little. I made the fifth stroke somewhat harder, both to undermine her confidence and to set her twitching again.

After the next I stopped to examine her. Six narrow pink tramlines, marks typical of a cane, showed against her white skin. Evenly spaced and virtually identical, they were weals to be proud of. An excellent start, I thought, to what promised to be a most enjoyable session.  

"May I rub, sir?" she asked, once she realized this was more than just a longer pause between strokes. I was pleased that she understood a penitent must ask permission before rubbing her bottom. There are some, I know, who consider this old-fashioned but I was taught by a master of the old school and take pride in these ancient traditions.

While Mrs Hammond rubbed her tingling behind, I watched her face. She looked very thoughtful, and I imagined she was wondering how much worse it would get.

"Thank you, sir," Mrs Hammond said, with a respectful glance in my direction. She hitched her skirts up a little higher, closing her eyes to await the remaining strokes.

I had to smile, for I recognized these actions of hers -- thanking me, and adopting the position in this way -- for what they were. She was attempting to dictate the pace of the proceedings. It was understandable that she wanted her punishment over and done with as quickly as possible, but the penitent must never be allowed to take control in this manner. Mrs Hammond must be left in no doubt as to who was master.

I left her standing there, stoically awaiting the remaining two and a half dozen, while I strolled to the bell-pull and rang for Alice. The maid appeared in a trice, I asked her to pour me a brandy, and I saw her eyes register astonishment as she took in the scene before her as she scuttled across to the cabinet by the window.

"Tell me, Mrs Hammond," I said, "do you think you will like our Oxfordshire countryside?"

"Why...yes, sir, I... I believe I will," she stammered.

"We have some fine elms in the neighbourhood. Did you notice them on your way from the railway station?"

"I... No, sir... I can't say that I did."

Alice carried the brandy over to me on a small silver tray, curtsied, and then attempted to slip away unnoticed. I had other ideas, however.

"Alice," I said, "you're a native of these parts. I'm sure you'll agree the countryside hereabouts is beautiful."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," she said, glancing at the door with a look of longing desperation, curtseying twice more for good measure.

I swirled the brandy in the glass and sampled its nose. Excellent. I strolled back to where Mrs Hammond waited. Casually I stroked her buttocks, pretending to examine the marks left by the cane. In reality, of course, I was drawing the maid's attention to them -- and more importantly, letting Irene Hammond know that I wished the staff to witness her humiliation.

"England can boast many fine counties," I said, "but I challenge anyone to name a prettier valley than our own, eh, Alice?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

"Thank you, Alice. You may go."

She curtsied once more and hastily departed. Her eagerness to be back in the relative safety of the servants' quarters was understandable. Canes and raised skirts were all too familiar to the girl; possibly she believed the combination to be contagious.

I finished my drink at leisure, deposited the glass on the table and sauntered back to my victim. I stood before her and looked directly into her troubled eyes. "I think," I said quietly, "we will now carry on where we left off. Does that meet with your approval, Mrs Hammond?" 

To be continued...

Our Club Insignia?

You are probably all familiar with this gold image of Egyptian Pharaoh Tutankahmen with his symbols of authority, the crook and flail.

A flail is an agricultural tool used for threshing to separate grains from their husks. The flail symbolises the Pharaoh's role as provider of food for his people and the shepherd's crook symbolises his role as the shepherd of his people.

In spanko terms, they are called the cane and flogger.

Some years ago, when the King Tut exhibit came to Canada I, along with thousands of others, went to see the wonders found inside the young king's tomb. Afterward, I stopped at the gift shop to buy a souvenir. I'm not sure why I chose the particular item I did. Perhaps it was the inexpensive price; possibly it was the erotic nature of the item. I selected a small blue and gold pin of the crook and flail. 

I wore the pin on my grey winter coat for several years before it found a new home in my dresser drawer. Seeing King Tut's picture on a recent issue of the National Geographic prompted me to search for the pin. The blue enamel has worn off so the crook looks less like a candy cane and more like a serious implement.

Wouldn't this be an interesting way to indicate to like-minded people that you are a TTWD enthusiast?

Rattan

While driving home from work the other day I passed a store that sells swimming pools, patio furniture and other assorted outdoor merchandise. I had driven by many times, but what caught my eye this time was a new electric sign that displayed constantly-changing messages, in a variety of colours and fonts, about the products available inside. This is what I saw:




Obviously this is what the sign was really advertising:




but this is what I thought of:





Perhaps I should drop in some day, just in case I was wrong.

Decisions, Decisions

What do you suppose that guy is going to do with the cane?

Read the hysterical comments about this picture on Picture is Unrelated. They're all pretty good, but here's the best one:

GROOAAAN!!!That is SO bad… I think it looks like one of those ridiculous Japanese game shows… one of those derrieres is his wife or girlfriend or some body ‘famous’ and he has to guess which one….


CONTESTANT (in wheelchair): “TED, I believe the third from the left in the second row from the top is my wife.”


TED:(in game show host voice) “Are you SURE BOB? If you are wrong, you lose the big prize (and possibly your wife)!”
BOB:”I am sure Ted!”


TED: OK, IT is time to reveal… Will BOB’S WIFE PLEASE STAND UP! (try not to hit your head on the girl above you)


(the forth from the left on the third row from the top stands up)
Music cue: WONK WONK WONNNNK


TED: OH! BOB, I AM SO SORRY!! You picked the wrong butt!! You don’t get the grand prize, but TELL HIM WHAT HE HAS WON, JOHNNY!
(voice over)


JOHNNY: WEEELLLL BOB has won a business card with the phone number of a divorce lawyer on it… and from the look on his wife’s face… he is going to NEED it! Bob has also won a YEARS supply of RICE A RONI, The San Francisco treat, and a copy of the PICK YOUR WIFE’S BUTT home game for hours of family fun! (whatever family he is going to have after this debacle)

Wednesday WIN

Now you can have your spanking intentions delivered to some lucky recipient, and decorate the holiday table at the same time.

The Mixing Bowl Bouquet, complete with wooden spoons and cinnamon sticks, is available from Teleflora. Contact your local florist for details.




The Christmas Present Bouquet is a slightly less obvious arrangement that still sends the right signals to those in the know. Who wouldn't enjoy a cane at Christmas? Order it now from Sears.

Put that Down

Last Saturday Ron and I went to a flea market. The large room was filled with tables of unwanted treasures. We strolled down the long aisles, pausing now and again to take a closer look at something interesting.

I came to a complete stop at a wooden barrel with some handles protruding from the top. One handle was particularly thick. I grasped it and lifted. What could it be? It was a wooden paddle about two feet long, quite thick, with beveled edges and a contoured surface. It looked suspiciously like a bottom-reddener to me.

"What do you think this is?" I asked Ron, and smiled hopefully at him.

"I don't know."

"Do you think it's a cricket bat? It says 'Made in Pakistan' here on the other side." I grinned even more suggestively at him. "Only twenty-seven dollars."

"Put it down," Ron ordered. "It won't fit in the bedside table."

Sigh.

We moved along, and passed a corner display of military uniforms and other paraphernalia. There was another wooden barrel with more handles protruding. Most looked like ordinary walking sticks, but one thin curved handle looked suspiciously like it belonged to a disciplinary cane. However, I couldn't examine it. Bagpipe music - strongly associated with the military in our country - was coming from a small speaker in the hopes of attracting customers. Ron is not a fan of the pipes, and he quickly led me away.

I later Googled images of cricket bats, and sure enough, that's what I had seen. I suppose I should be glad it wouldn't fit in our implement storage area. It was quite fearsome. Still, maybe a small rack on the wall might be a possibility...

The Headmaster's Song

I heard a wonderful startle as I was driving to work. CBC Radio 1 plays an eclectic variety of music, and a song I'd never heard before caught my attention when I heard the line "I'd feel undressed without my cane". I thought it was just a fluke until I heard "...can't be outdoors without my cane".

Then I started paying very close attention to the words, and realized it was a spanko song. Luckily the program host told her listeners the name of the song: My Walking Stick, written by Irving Berlin in 1938. The performer was Jim Byrnes - an appropriate name, is it not?

Here are the pertinent lyrics for your enjoyment.

But my walking stick
You simply must let that be
I mean you can't take that away from me.

Without my walking stick, I'd go insane.
Can't look my best, I'd feel undressed without my cane.

Must have my walking stick 'cause it may rain
And when it pours, can't be outdoors without my cane.

If I ever left my house without my walking stick
It would just be something I could never explain.

The thing that makes me click on Lovers' Lane
Would go for naught if I were caught without my cane.

As for the Lovers' Lane reference, I can imagine a headmaster singing this while off duty. Surely his significant other would be a lady who also enjoys the delights of the rod. The wooden disciplinary type of rod, I mean.

If...

When Bonnie asked about mainstream movies with spanking scenes at a recent brunch, I realized that I had never told you about If. Released in 1968, it is the story of a group of teenage misfits at an English public school. As one reviewer said, it begins to resemble Lord of the Flies as the plot progresses. As a matter of interest, I read several summaries on the internet, and the caning scene was either ignored or only briefly mentioned.

Although I watched the movie on television fairly recently, I first saw it many years ago. A friend warned me that it was not the sort of movie you'd go to see with your boyfriend. But I didn't have a boyfriend, so that was all right, and a story about a boys' school was bound to have some corporal punishment in it, so off I went. I wasn't disappointed.

Here's the long and (I assume) realistic caning scene from that movie.

I Thought So

Gordon Ramsay is a very talented chef, a successful restauranteur, and the star of several interesting television programs. He has also caused me to wonder from time to time whether he might be "one of us".

Ramsay - an ex-footballer - is infamous for his salty language, especially the use of the F word. In fact, that's the name of his latest show, although in that case, the F stands for "food".

In Hell's Kitchen Gordon takes a group of sixteen aspiring chefs and systematically reduces them to mincemeat as, one by one, he eliminates them from the show. The last standing contender will be given a restaurant of his or her own to run, and Gordon is merciless in his demands for perfection.

Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares is a somewhat milder but equally entertaining show in which Gordon visits a struggling restaurant and, in the course of a week, rights all wrongs and gets it back on its feet. It's often difficult to understand what's being said, because the network insists on bleeping any naughty words, so the dialogue is often mutilated to the point of being incoherent.

My suspicions about his disciplinary nature were laid to rest when, in a recent episode, he told a young chef who was bent over a counter adjusting the garnish on a plate that "I'll cane your ass!" and the young man grinned in embarrassment.

I thought so.