From the Top Shelf - Once Upon a Time, part 2

We continue with the second installment of "Once Upon a Time" by Gerald Sinclair. You will really want to reread part one again, and you'll find it here. Now let's see how Sir Bevis fared while carrying a handkerchief wet with the tears of a well-spanked princess.

The messenger, breathless and wild-eyed, arrived the following evening. 'Sir Bevis –' he gasped.

'Has slain the dragon?' beamed the King.

The messenger shook his head sadly and held out a helmet everyone recognised. It contained a few charred bones and a scorched fragment of a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

'I think,' said the Queen, 'that Master Erasmus has some explaining to do.'

'A slight miscalculation,' said the magician, unruffled, when he made his appearance. 'An oversight which I sincerely regret.'

'Not as sincerely as I do!' muttered Crystal, wriggling on her cushion.

'Further research,' said Master Erasmus, 'shows that the spell only works if the tears are shed by a virgin.'

There was a tense, awe-struck silence in the Throne Room. Crystal blushed vividly. So did a tall, handsome squire who could be seen furtively glancing round for the nearest exit.

'C-r-r-r-ystal!' said Queen Marguerite.

'But Mother – I – I –'

'Upstairs!'

Five minutes later the tall squire was on his way to the dungeons with an armed guard, while the courtiers were once more listening in fascinated silence to the sound of Crystal's howls and entreaties mingled with the steady thwack! thwack! thwack! of a leather tawse across a royal rump.

'I suppose it's lucky,' said the King next day, 'that we have two more princesses.'

Miranda and Lisette looked at each other in dismay. Lucky?

'Miranda,' said the Queen, ominously. 'I hope there's no doubt about –'

'Of course not!'

'In that case,' said the Queen, 'we'd better go to your bedroom.'

The slim, tawny-haired, soft-spoken Miranda was regarded as the intellectual one among the princesses. Since she had received much of her education across her mother's knee she knew better than to argue when she was ordered into that ignominious position. In a matter of moments her skirts were around her waist and her blue silk briefs were halfway down her thighs.

'Now, Miranda,' said the Queen, with a large ebony-backed hairbrush poised above her daughter's shapely seat. 'Tears are what we need, so let's make sure there are plenty.'

And indeed, Miranda's tears were soon flowing abundantly as that lovely young lady blubbered and pleaded and wriggled through the soundest spanking she had received for years. The scorching impact of hard wood on tender curves was no novelty to Miranda, but on this occasion she had the added misery of knowing she hadn't even done anything to deserve the stinging anguish in her scarlet, quivering behind.

'And who,' asked the Queen a little later, 'is the gallant knight who will ride out with Miranda's handkerchief to face the dragon?'

'I thought of Sir Godfrey,' said King Fedor. 'His remarkable luck at cards has been quite expensive to me lately. Let's see how lucky he is with dragons.'

Shortly afterwards, a very disgruntled Sir Godfrey, swearing under his breath and shedding extra aces from every chink in his armour, went forth to do battle.

The same weary messenger limped into court the following day.

'Well?' demanded the King. 'Did Sir Godfrey give the dragon the coup de grace?

'No,' said the man, glumly. 'But with any luck he may have given the dragon indigestion.'

Queen Marguerite's baleful glare settled upon Miranda. Miranda gulped.

'But Mother, there must be some mistake! I haven't –! I mean I am –! you mustn't think –!'

'Upstairs!' thundered the Queen.

Halfway through the exemplary spanking which followed, Master Erasmus appeared at the bedroom door.

'Your Majesty, stop! There has been an unfortunate error. I'll never trust a Hong Kong crystal ball again!'

'Eh?' said the Queen, hairbrush raised aloft.

'I'm sure Princess Miranda is a virgin,' said the magician. 'Regrettably, that isn't enough. To make the spell truly effective, the chastisement should have been carried out in public.'

Queen Marguerite pondered for a moment, thoughtfully considering the blazing crimson bottom of the innocent young beauty sobbing bitterly across her lap.

'Pity,' said the Queen. 'Still, I've started, so I'll finish.' She brought the brush down sharply to resume the interrupted spanking. Master Erasmus retreated down the corridor, his ears filled with Miranda's tearful entreaties mingled with the juicy splat! of hard wood landing of tender teenage buttocks.

Poor Sir Godfrey! His luck seems to have run out. What about the dragon? We'll find out next week.

A different kind of spanking

Many of our spankings are planned in advance; they are long, intense, and involve various levels of pain. Then there are the short, sharp ones that are quite unexpected but very welcome. Finally there are the spankings that deliver little but promise much. That's the kind I want to tell you about.

Ron and I were in the kitchen preparing dinner. Whenever he seemed to think I was in his way, he would give me a pat on the bottom as an indication to move over. That was fun, and I seemed to be in his way far more often than was strictly necessary.

After we had eaten and were clearing the table, I bent over the dishwasher to put in the plates and cutlery. I felt a sharp smack, first on one cheek, then the other. A hand returned to the first cheek and stroked it gently but firmly, then repeated the massage on the other side, then in the cleft between them. When the hand withdrew, I straightened up and shut the dishwasher, wondering what would happen next.

I got my answer when I opened the refrigerator and put some leftovers on the lowest shelf. One hard swat on my bottom was followed by several more. When I stood up, Ron's hand slipped under the elastic waistband of my black velour pants and caressed my cheeks. He then thrust his hand under my panties and explored further.

"Mmmmm, that feels good," I purred.

"Shall we leave the rest of the cleanup till the morning?"

"That works for me."

I have to admit that there was no more spanking that evening, but the alternative was very nice indeed.

From the Top Shelf - Discipline

Another gem from Kenneth Harding's Encyclopedia of Spanking, published in 1969. It continues last week's theme of domestic discipline.

In Los Angeles, two weeks later, upon my return from Honolulu, I stopped off for a week to visit an old high school chum who had married and reared four charming daughters, ages eleven to twenty-two. This "rearing" had, metaphorically speaking, been abetted with ample dosages with the hand, the hairbrush and the ruler. During my stay, my friend showed me that even a married young woman of twenty-two--his oldest daughter who was visiting with her husband at their large two-storey house in Santa Monica--so long as she was under the parental roof, even though she was the bride of another man, was not immune from parental chastisement if it was in order.

More than that, her young husband, who was an attorney in a well-known firm and himself about twenty-eight, encouraged his father-in-law to inflict the spanking. His bride, whose name was Patricia, a pretty brownette of medium height with exceptionally creamy skin and a very provocatively mischievous face, had gotten involved in a discussion of city politics with her father over the dinner table, and in her exasperation over his "reactionary" attitude, had said as much in rather uncomplimentary terms.

My friend waited until coffee and dessert were over, and then when we retired to the living room, said calmly, "Patricia, go and bring me the hairbrush," and then turning to her husband said, George, whether you like it or not, Patricia has a good, sound spanking coming and I propose to give it to her." Her husband nodded: "I quite agree, Dad." Then to his astonished wife, "you will do what your father tells you, or you will get one from me too when we get home.".

Thus outvoted, poor Patricia blushingly went to her father's bedroom and returned with the old-fashioned black wooden hairbrush, a souvenir of her girlhood, no doubt. She knew exactly where it was, obviously, and when she returned it was to stand before her father, head bowed, shifting from foot to foot, her fingers nervously twisting the handle of the hairbrush to and fro. She was no longer twenty-two; she was a child again, about to be brought face to face with retribution for her misdeeds.

He asked for and received the hairbrush, then gestured with it; no words were necessary, for with a sobbing little sigh, Patricia slowly took her place over his lap and stretched out on the couch, burying her face in her hands. Her two young sisters looked on with mild amusement; probably this was an old familiar scene and my friend remarked as much, before he began the preparations for Patricia's spanking, by saying: "You know that all my girls get spanked, and all of them watch, even if just one has to get it. It keeps them on their toes, remembering their manners most of the time."

This explanation over with, he pulled up Patricia's rayon skirt and nylon petticoat, whereupon the charming brownette implored him to leave her panties on because of my presence. He told her that she had her choice: she could either leave them on and he would have George give her an equal dosage, and he would lend him the hairbrush to do it with again after they got home, or she could now receive a single spanking. Dolefully, Patricia settled for the latter, it being the lesser of two evils.

Her descended panties around her ankles, her creamy, jouncily rounded, widely spaced and beautifully dimpled buttocks appeared for parental correction. Patricia softly began to cry like a little girl even before the initial "Smack!" marred the flawless purity of her bare skin. Her father laid on forty severe, slowly spaced spanks, evenly distributed to the two huddling, weaving, lunging globes. Midway through, George walked over to hold his wife down by the shoulders, for she was beginning to kick and struggle and try to roll off her father's lap.

When the chastisement was over, she got up and put her panties back in place and sobbingly apologized for her impertinence. Her husband then excused himself to all of us, and took her straight home. I wouldn't be surprised to learn--though I haven't to this date--that he added his own private husbandly admonishment when they reached the privacy of their own connubial bower.

 

Naughty Words

A recent article in a daily Canadian newspaper said that women like it when men "talk dirty" to them during intimate activities, and that some men try, but don't do it very well. What I found remarkable was the frequency of statements that I perceived to be refreshingly non-vanilla.

The author did a little survey of friends and found that women do like to hear naughty words, but rarely did. One woman said that once she found a man who used them "the kinky dialogue that ensued made her feel more sexually confident than ever."

"Pleasure begins in the brain and... [talking dirty] operates within the realm of fantasy, and fantasy is the match to the fire."


Part of talking dirty can involve theatrically using the language of degradation. Men raised by feminists may have a problem with this, but there shouldn't be one "if it's what a woman wants to hear." A conversation about pornography may turn to "the idea of a woman being tied up or spoken to in a humiliating fashion should not be arousing, and yet there are women who are turned on by that... It's sometimes the woman who wants to be playfully humiliated who takes the risk in asking."

I especially like the way the article ends.

"The key word in role play is play...And what if you try to play and your girlfriend tells you you're bad at it? Well, then, maybe you have the wrong playmate. Or you could ask her if she needs to be punished for that."

Horseless Carriage

For us, sex and spanking go together like a horse and carriage. (For younger readers, that's a reference to an old song. You may remember it as the theme song for the TV show Married, with Children.) But what happens when one of those elements is missing?

If I'm stressed or have gone too long without some attention to my posterior, I want and need a good spanking to help me get my emotions back on track. Ron, on the other hand, feels that spanking is foreplay, not a standalone activity, and if I want to be paddled, I'll just have to wait for him to feel inclined to enjoy both activities. We have discussed this several times, and I think I have convinced him that, as nice as lovemaking is, if he isn't in the mood for it, I will be perfectly happy if he just spanks me and forgets about the rest. A good spanking invariably arouses me, but there are steps I can take alone later, if you know what I mean.

So we did have an understanding, but had never put it to the test. Until last weekend, that is. We were busy with chores around the house, and I noticed that Ron wasn't his usual cheerful self; in fact, he seemed a bit grumpy. He finally told me that he was postponing our spanking date for later that afternoon because he was feeling tired and out of sorts.

It was my turn to be grumpy, but before I could work up a good head of steam, Ron surprised me by saying, "We can do the spanking part. I just don't feel like doing anything else."

That stopped me in my tracks. I had been looking forward to a bottom-reddening. Would it be selfish of me to take him up on his offer? He wasn't well. Still, he had offered, and I had previously made it clear that sometimes a spanking was all that I needed or expected. This would be "all about me" and I was sure to get plenty of attention. But maybe I should be more considerate of him and wait until his energy level was higher.

What do you think I should have done?

Present Perfect

While writing my previous post about how it all began, I did a lot of thinking about my former life in a vanilla relationship. I don't know if Ron read that post, but one evening a week or so later, he started to talk about his previous life. I forget how the subject came up, but he began telling me about the intimate side of that unhappy relationship. He rarely opens up like that, but he obviously needed to share. I listened and sympathized. This was something that had happened over thirty years ago so I wasn't troubled by it, and had heard parts of the story before. I won't go into the details, except to say that he and his wife were not sexually compatible.

After a while, he took a deep breath and said, "So I've told you all about ____ and me. What about you and ____?" I hadn't expected this, and telling husband number two about sex with husband number one isn't always a great idea. But because I had recently recalled unhappy memories that had been buried for many years, the words came easily. And it was Ron's turn to listen sympathetically and shake his head in amazement from time to time.

When I was done, a kind of peace settled over us. I've always known that Ron is far happier with me than he had been with his ex, and now I truly believe that he realizes how contented I am with him, and how highly I value him. He has always been a bit insecure, but I think the penny finally dropped and he knows that he makes me very happy, both in the bedroom and out.

Our next encounter for cuddling and spanking was especially gratifying. I felt very loved and special. I believe he knew how much I treasured every kiss, every caress, every swat. We have reconnected in a deeper way, and long may it last!

The View From Here - Why?

There are many different reasons kinds of spankings: erotic, stress relief, good girl, maintenance, discipline, punishment, playful. What labels can I give to ours?

The Fantasy - I would like to be lectured and punished, for real or in play. All my fantasies are about punishment. A spanking for being good would also be as welcome as one for being naughty or for breaking the rules.

The Reality - Spankings are part and parcel of our romantic life. They are always erotic in nature and ignite a spark in both of us that bursts into flame with the intimate activities that always follow. So when I ask to be spanked, or Ron suggests it, it is always in the context of an amorous encounter.

Punishment is not an option. Ron thinks knows that I would enjoy it so much it wouldn't have any effect. When he finds some reason to complain about my behaviour, I usually tell him that he should spank me. His response is, "Good things don't happen to people who mess up." Or if I ask him if I'm in trouble, he'll reply, "No. there'll be NO trouble for you." Then we both laugh, and my crime of commission or omission is forgotten. But I can still fantasize!

Then there is stress relief. I have found that while a spanking will excite me, it can also help reduce any stress that's building up inside. More and more, I can tell when things are getting out of control inside my head. I know when a spanking is what I need to calm me down and restore inner balance.

And sometimes, especially when I am stressed, I just don't feel like I want or need the erotic activities that go along with spanking. The spanking itself is all I crave. Ron, however, sees my request for a stress-reliever as an invitation to the bedroom, and he might or might not be interested in such an invitation. If he isn't, then the spanking doesn't happen.

So the challenge was to explain to Ron that spankings now have two purposes, and that while one does not necessarily exclude the other, it's perfectly fine with me to have a spanking without sex. And that's what I did. We discussed it on two separate occasions, and I explained that when I requested a stress-buster, that was really all I needed. He probably would find that my body would be giving out signs of being aroused but it wasn't necessarily a demand on my part for sexual activity. I could enjoy a spanking for its own sake, and anything more would be his choice.

After our second conversation, Ron understood where I was coming from, and must have decided I'd better have some stress relief soon. The next day, he got out the new wooden paddle and applied it vigorously to my posterior, without benefit of a warmup. (I don't count six hand spanks as a real warmup.) He definitely got the idea! And we concluded in the usual way, to our mutual satisfaction.

Lately I haven't felt stressed enough to put our new agreement to the test, but I'm sure something will come up soon!