Let it Snow

This has certainly been a real Canadian winter. We had a white Christmas, which was verys nice, then an even whiter Boxing Day, which was not so nice. By the end of the second day we had had more snow than we received all last year. Another snowfall on the weekend and a little on New Year's Eve was just too much of a good thing.

It wasn't quite as bad as this, but there was a drift about 2 feet high when I opened the front door.

Ron also has to shovel paths in the back yard for our dogs, who won't venture out if the snow touches their chests. Then there's the roof, which adds to the shoveling chore. No, we don't shovel snow off the roof of our house, but because it is made of metal (looks exactly like asphalt shingles but lasts 10 times longer), when the metal heats up from the sun or a rise in temperature, the snow slides off in great slabs with a rumble that sounds like the Mounties performing their musical ride over our heads, crashing down onto newly-cleared surfaces.

The first time this happened was shortly after the dogs had been out patrolling the patio. Ron had cleared it completely and Fang had stopped to mark his territory quite close to the back door. Less than five minutes later we heard the sound of thundering hooves overhead, and when we looked out the kitchen window, the patio was completely covered with snow. If it had descended only a few minutes earlier, Fang would have been buried. From then on, Ron has left the snow on the patio, except for a narrow path from the door, so that when the snow slides off it is unlikely that anyone would be directly underneath.

To take a break from shoveling, we tested the repair job Ron did on the broken hairbrush. He left the cable tie on as a safety measure, but cut the end off flush with the edge of the brush so it wouldn't get in the way of a good, solid stroke. I didn't notice the tie wrapped across the width of the hairbrush; I guess my bottom isn't that discerning. I am happy to report that it did the job nicely and I can cross "hairbrush" off my shopping list for next week.

They don't make hairbrushes like they used to

Wow! We had quite an adventure last weekend. Ron broke a hairbrush on my backside.

I first told you about our lovely square hairbrush here over a year ago. Since then, it's been one of my favourite implements. Not only does the flat wooden surface cover a large area at one time, but the bristle side feels so nice when it comes in contact with my bottom. When I am spanked with the stiff, pointy bristles, the brush makes a dull, muffled thud instead of a loud, sharp crack. Each hard, nylon bristle has a tiny round knob on the tip that feels quite nice upon impact. It feels even nicer when the bristles are gently rubbed across my reddened cheeks in between whacks.

What happened? We really don't know. One minute Ron was happily swatting away, and the next minute there was an unexpected pause in the action.

"What's going on," I asked, annoyed at the interruption but also a little anxious. Was Ron planning a secret attack?

"Look," he replied, and as I stood up he held out the brush for me to see. "It's broken."

"How did that happen? I didn't think you were spanking me that hard."

"I don't know, it just snapped. It isn't safe to use right now; I'll try to fix it later." With that, Ron put the brush on the dresser and ordered me to select a replacement from the toybox. I grabbed the first implement that came to hand.

Bad choice. The angled bath brush is a whole lot sturdier than the hairbrush, and it was all "ouch" and no "mmm" from then on.

Ron was as good as his word, and later that day went about repairing the hairbrush, gluing it together then fastening the broken pieces together with two plastic cable ties (like the ones used in 50 Shades of Grey, but not recommended as restraints) until the glue had dried.My favourite hairbrush should be ready for action by the weekend.

That Hit the Spot

Here's what happened last weekend with the new hairbrush I told you about here.

I presented the bamboo stimulating hairbrush to Ron and waited for his reaction.

"We already have one," he observed.

"No we don't, I explained. (Actually, we have three brushes, not one.) "The one we have is round and has bristles. This one's square and has, um, points."

"I can't get the wrapper off," Ron grumbled, but I decided he was stalling. Some men just can't adapt to something new.

As I removed the cardboard sleeve I explained, "This brush has two sides, for two different sensations. Did you know that some paddles have sandpaper on one side?"

"Like the ping pong paddle?"

"No, that's rubber." I picked it up from out toybox and held it up. "It's only the beginner paddle. Maybe the expert model has sandpaper." (Note to self: check out sporting goods store for expert paddles.)

Ron examined both sides of the brush while I put the ping pong paddle away, prepared myself, and got into position. I was bending over the end of the bed when the flat side of the brush connected with my bare bottom - hard!

"Ow! Take it easy!" I whined.

The swats continued at slightly less intensity.

"I don't know what you're complaining about. You like this, don't you?" Ron asked.

"Haven't you ever heard of a warmup?"

"This is a warmup," Ron explained, then continued, "and it's over" and he stepped up the pace and the force of impact. Then he paused. I waited, then felt a dull, thuddy, not at all painful series of blows. He was using the pointy side of brush with all those stimulating pegs.

"Ooh, that feels strange. Try rubbing my bottom with it." Ron did, and that felt very nice indeed. This brush had been a wise investment,  I thought to myself. But all too soon, it was time for the other side again.

The brush attacked my sit spots again and again. I shuffled my feet and wiggled but maintained position, vocally expressed my displeasure. Ron kept alternating the sides of the brush, sometimes whacking with the pointy side and other times rubbing my increasingly aching backside. When he finally finished and I was allowed to stand, I noticed he was panting from exertion. The brush had cardiovascular benefits for both of us.

I examined my red bottom in the mirror and frowned in a combination of mock displeasure and real pain.

"It hurts," I whined.

Ron grinned and hugged me. "That hit the spot."

The new hairbrush is a keeper!

A Stimulating Weekend

I have some exciting weekend plans that involve the implement pictured above. It's a "Bamboo stimulating hairbrush" and I can't wait to try it!

On the other side of the cardboard sleeve, the product description explains that "the wooden peg bristles make it ideal for massaging the scalp and stimulating healthy hair growth."

Looks like I'm in for a double stimulation, from both the back and the front of the brush. I'll let you know the results next week.

Elegant but Ineffective

Recently I referred to my post about our new antique hairbrush, and I realize that I never told you what we thought of it in action. I was remiss, and I apologize.

The truth is, Ron didn't care for it.

"It's plastic," were his first words when I held it out for him to try.

"No, it's ivory," I assured him.

"And it's dirty," he continued, pointing to a brown mark on the handle.

"That's a flaw in the ivory. A cavity, I guess. Try it."

And he did. But his swats weren't very enthusiastic. The small surface didn't make much of an impact on me. Worse, there was little noise.

"It doesn't make enough sound. Listen." Ron demonstrated.

"Ow. No, it's sort of quiet and thuddy. Ow!" Ron was right, as usual. He put it aside after a few more attempts and picked up a different paddle - one that he favoured both for its large size and the accompanying loud smack that it made when it connected with my bottom.

So there you have it. Our beautiful new brush is merely an ornament now. I suppose I might try it on my hair.

An Elegant Implement

See what I found while browsing in a shop selling "gently used" clothing and other merchandise. It looks very old, doesn't it?

Oh, but I suppose the other side will be of more interest to you.

Obviously it's been well cared for, and perhaps this side has seen more use than the other.

It was somewhat pricey, but looked worth every penny. A shiver went through me as I held it. I just had to have it, even though I know I'll probably be very sorry I did. Then I found a lovely wooden paddle that I also had to have. (I'll show you that in a future post.) What increased the cost was having to buy something else as well, because I thought it would look odd to buy just the hairbrush and the paddle.

The sales associate told me the brush was ivory. I know that it's politically incorrect to purchase ivory, but the damage had been done a long time ago. I can't wait to try it out.

From the Top Shelf - St. Dominic's III

Back to Scene II

St. Dominic's, 1917

Scene III

School song again. Dropcloth appears with caption: "A BEANO IN THE DORM AT WHICH A SCORE IS SETTLED". Dropcloth rises. Lights up to reveal dormitory setting as in the first scene. The four girls are onstage, slipping out of gymslips and changing into nighties. Other girls could also be present, already wearing pyjamas, nightdresses, and other kinds of schoolgirl deshabille.

ELSPETH: Who's in favour of tripping the light fantastic before we broach the ginger beer?

FAUVETTE: What a perfectly chubby wheeze!

GWEN: Absolutely slap-bang!

All the girls cheer.

GWEN: Right-ho! Combs and paper at the ready! One-two-three!

Some of the girls produce combs and paper and start to play a popular waltz. The others choose partners and dance. ELSPETH approaches MORVYTH, who look lonely.

ELSPETH: Care to borrow my bedjacket, young Morvyth?

MORVYTH: You're a brick, Elspeth, but I'm not sure lilac's my colour.

FAUVETTE (to audience): Mumbled Morvyth, turning hot with pleasure at the bare idea.

ELSPETH: Never mind, baby, you look nice in anything.

FAUVETTE (to audience): Returned Elspeth soothingly.

ELSPETH: And your white petticoat's a perfect dream. I always said it was a shame to hide it under a dress.

ELSPETH and MORVYTH waltz together. The mood and tempo are dreamy and romantic. Everyone except FAUVETTE and the comb-and-paper players are dancing.

FAUVETTE (to audience): Gwen's cheeks were scarlet and Morvyth's long fair hair floated out picturesquely as she twirled around in Elspeth Moseley's arms.

FAUVETTE moves towards Gwen's bed. Suddenly, Miss Beesley, in a dressing gown, marches into the dormitory.

ALL: Cave--the Bumble Bee!

MISS BEESLEY (genially): I hope I'm not turning up like the proverbial bad penny! It's not my intention to be the specter at the feast. I was deeply impressed by your doughty efforts in the end-of-term exams, and I thought it might not be taken amiss if I put in an appearance at your beano.

The girls cheer.

Let the festivities continue.

ELSPETH: In honour of the Bumble Bee's--I mean Miss Beesley's--presence, may I propose a toast in foaming flagons of ginger pop! (She offers Miss Beesley a glass.) Here's to the health of St. Dominic's, the grandest school of all!

The girls all raise their glasses, but before they can drink, FAUVETTE cries out.

FAUVETTE: Just a jiffy, you fellows! I've found my postal order--and it's here, in Elspeth's locker.

General cry of astonishment. FAUVETTE points at the locker. ELSPETH goes over and snatches the postal order from inside it. GWEN looks abashed.

The girls freeze in a group.

VOICE: Your final choice between Elspeth (ELSPETH steps forward) . . . and Fauvette/Morvyth/Gwen? (Pause for vote.). ____________________ is hereby exonerated.

The group unfreezes and the action continues.

FAUVETTE: I hate being a tattle-tale, but her locker was open, and there it was!

MISS BEESLEY (to ELSPETH): Can you explain how Fauvette's postal order came to be in your locker?

ELSPETH: It's not an atom of use asking me, I haven't a ghost of a notion.

GWEN (to audience): Was any wretched girl ever in such a fix?

MISS BEESLEY: Things will go easier for you if you make a clean breast of it.

ELSPETH: I'm sorry, Miss Beesley, but I have nothing to confess.

GWEN (to audience): Hot tears came welling up, but Elspeth brushed them away angrily.

MISS BEESLEY: Theft is an ugly word, Elspeth. In all the years of my headmistressship, incidents such as this have very seldom occurred. I have had unruliness and disobedience before, but in the whole of my experience never a girl more brazen than you. It is of course impossible for me to allow you to remain at St. Dominic's.

---

Continue as follows if ELSPETH is the victim:

I will deal with you myself in the morning. In the meantime, I shall hand you over to the tender mercies of Gwen--the new monitor of the Fifth--who has full disciplinary powers. (She exits.)

GWEN (to audience): The Bumble Bee always reminds me of an ancient Roman--the State first and foremost in her estimates, and herself nowhere. (She seats herself on one of the beds.) Hairbrush if you please, Elspeth, or are you going to show the white feather?

ELSPETH: I may be a blighter, but as least I don't funk!

---

Continue as follows if GWEN is the victim:

MISS BEESLEY turns to leave. As she does so, MORVYTH rushes forward.

MORVYTH: Please, Miss Beesley, may I speak?

MISS BEESLEY: What is it, Morvyth?

MORVYTH: I'll take my oath Elspeth's telling the truth. The real culprit is Gwen. She's green with envy because Elspeth's top dog and she'll go to any lengths to do her down. I saw her putting the postal order into Elspeth's locker.

MISS BEESLEY: Is this true, Gwen?

GWEN is silent.

Are you willing to swear that it's false?

GWEN shakes her head.

In that case, I must apologize to Elspeth, who has undeservedly borne the brunt of my strictures. As for you, Gwen, you have set a most pernicious example, and I will deal with you myself in the morning. In the meantime, I shall hand you over to the tender mercies of your monitor, who has full disciplinary powers. (She exits.)

GWEN (to audience): The Bumble Bee always reminds me of an ancient Roman--the State first and foremost in her estimates, and herself nowhere.

ELSPETH (seating herself on one of the beds.): Hairbrush if you please, Gwen, or are you going to show the white feather?

GWEN: I may be a blighter, but as least I don't funk!

---

Continue as follows if MORVYTH is the victim:


MISS BEESLEY turns to leave. As she does so, Gwen rushes forward.

GWEN: Please, Miss Beesley, may I speak?

MISS BEESLEY: What is it, Gwen?

GWEN: I'll take my oath Elspeth's telling the truth. The real culprit is Morvyth. She's green with envy because Elspeth's top dog and she'll go to any lengths to do her down. I saw her putting the postal order into Elspeth's locker.

MISS BEESLEY: Is this true, Morvyth?

MORVYTH is silent.

Are you willing to swear that it's false?

MORVYTH shakes her head.

In that case, I must apologize to Elspeth, who has undeservedly borne the brunt of my strictures. As for you, Morvyth, you have set a most pernicious example, and I will deal with you myself in the morning. In the meantime, I shall hand you over to the tender mercies of your monitor, who has full disciplinary powers. (She exits.)

GWEN (to audience): The Bumble Bee always reminds me of an ancient Roman--the State first and foremost in her estimates, and herself nowhere.

ELSPETH (seating herself on one of the beds.): Hairbrush if you please, Morvyth, or are you going to show the white feather?

MORVYTH: I may be a blighter, but as least I don't funk!

---

Continue as follows if FAUVETTE is the victim:


MISS BEESLEY turns to leave. As she does so, MORVYTH rushes forward.

MORVYTH: Please, Miss Beesley, may I speak?

MISS BEESLEY: What is it, Morvyth?

MORVYTH: I'll take my oath Elspeth's telling the truth. Fauvette's green with envy because Elspeth's top dog and she'll go to any lengths to do her down. The real culprit is Fauvette herself!I saw her putting the postal order into Elspeth's locker.

MISS BEESLEY: Is this true, Fauvette?

FAUVETTE is silent.

Are you willing to swear that it's false?

FAUVETTE shakes her head.

In that case, I must apologize to Elspeth, who has undeservedly borne the brunt of my strictures. As for you, Fauvette, you have set a most pernicious example, and I will deal with you myself in the morning. In the meantime, I shall hand you over to the tender mercies of your monitor, who has full disciplinary powers. (She exits.)

GWEN (to audience): The Bumble Bee always reminds me of an ancient Roman--the State first and foremost in her estimates, and herself nowhere.

ELSPETH (seating herself on one of the beds.): Hairbrush if you please, Fauvette, or are you going to show the white feather?

FAUVETTE: I may be a blighter, but as least I don't funk!

---

The VICTIM fetches a hairbrush from her washstand, gives it to the MONITOR and bends over her knee. The MONITOR slowly raises the VICTIM'S nightie to the waist and, even more slowly, pulls down her knickers. The other girls gather round to watch the spanking. It takes place in slow motion, with the VICTIM ritualistically wriggling as each blow falls. The girls count in unison.

We should feel that this is a kind of tribal ceremony--the sacrifice of the willing victim. As the MONITOR spanks, it might be a good idea to project on the backcloth a moving closeup of the VICTIM'S bottom. The counting grows louder and the pace increases. At about the count of ten, we hear electronic "take-off" music, possibly like the sound used by the Beatles in "A Day in the Life". As this sound and the spanking reach a climax, we

BLACKOUT

From the Top Shelf - St. Dominic's II

St. Dominic's, 1917

Scene II

Back to Scene I

School song is heard again. Dropcloth appears with a projected caption: "HIGH JINKS AND HOT WATER IN THE OFFING". Dropcloth rises. Lights go up to reveal classroom with desks and blackboard. FAUVETTE, GWEN, and MORVYTH are seated, chattering. ELSPETH enters.

ELSPETH: Cave, all concerned! Miss Beesley's approaching in full sail!

ALL sit demurely upright. MISS BEESLEY enters in scholastic gown.

MISS BEESLEY: Good morning, girls!

ALL: Good morning, Miss Beesley!

ELSPETH (to audience): Miss Beesley is a handsome and imposing woman with a stern cast of features.

MISS BEESLEY: Members of the Fifth! I have some remarks to address to two of your number. First of all, Morvyth.

MORVYTH rises.

It's come to my ears that you have been acting like a weeping cherub on a monument. Now that won't do at all--we've no patience with grousers at St. Dominic's. It's your bounden duty to be bubbling and girlish so that you can carry away happy memories of your lighthearted schooldays when you go out into the world to be a woman. Do you understand, Morvyth?

MORVYTH: Yes, Miss Beesley, I'll do my uttermost. (She sits.)

MISS BEESLEY: There's a gallant girl. And now for the egregious madcap of the Fourth, lately translated to more august surroundings.

GWEN ruefully rises. The other girls giggle.

It's been brought to my attention that the aforementioned young scamp has celebrated her arrival in the Fifth by indulging in pugilistic practices with one of her senior bedfellows. Now Gwen, it's A-1 to be high-spirited, but if you overstep the mark again, there'll be a painful reckoning behind my green baize door. Compris?

GWEN (flushed): Oui--I mean, yes, Miss Beesley! (She sits.)

ELSPETH (to audience): It's an open secret that Miss Beasley, strict disciplinarian though she is, has a sneaking weakness for Gwen.

MORVYTH (to audience): "The Bumble Bee rows Gwen but she likes her" is the general verdict.

FAUVETTE has been rummaging through her desk.

FAUVETTE: Miss Beesley!

MISS BEESLEY: What is it, child?

FAUVETTE: Somebody or other has nabbed my postal order! It's vanished from my desk!

MORVYTH: Great jumping Jehosephat!

---

Continue below if GWEN has been eliminated earlier:

FAUVETTE: And what's more, I told Morvyth only this morning that I was going to put it there.

Everyone stares at MORVYTH who looks appalled.

GWEN (to audience): Morvyth stood aghast, utterly dumbfounded at the defalcation.

MORVYTH: Fauvette's a fibber! She's just trying to make me blub!

The four girls and MISS BEESLEY freeze in a group.

VOICE (female, over public address system): Three girls are still eligible for punishment.

The girls in question step forward.

In precisely four minutes, one of then will be whipped. We now invite you to eliminate either Fauvette or Morvyth. Please raise your right hand if you wish to spare Fauvette. (Pause for vote to be noted.) Or Morvyth. (Another pause.) ______________ is hereby exonerated.

---

Continue below if FAUVETTE has been eliminated earlier:

FAUVETTE: And what's more, I told Gwen only this morning that I was going to put it there.

Everyone stares at GWEN who looks appalled.

MORVYTH (to audience): Gwen stood aghast, utterly dumbfounded at the defalcation.

GWEN: I loathe pointing the finger at a chum, but you told Morvyth as well as yours truly.

The four girls and MISS BEESLEY freeze in a group.

VOICE (female, over public address system): Three girls are still eligible for punishment.

The girls in question step forward.

In precisely four minutes, one of then will be whipped. We now invite you to eliminate either Gwen or Morvyth. Please raise your right hand if you wish to spare Gwen. (Pause for vote to be noted.) Or Morvyth. (Another pause.) ______________ is hereby exonerated.

BLACKOUT

Next - Scene III

From the Top Shelf - St. Dominic's I

For your enjoyment, here is another scene from Oh! Calcutta! - an avant-garde theatrical revue, consisting of sketches on sex-related topics.

Due to the length of the scene, it will be published in three parts, and I will link them to each other once all have been published.

The scene takes place in a fictitious girls' school. As the plot unfolds, the audience is asked to decide which girl should be punished. Based on the response, the script is followed in different ways. I hope you like it. But be warned: the language is a challenging mixture of girls' school lingo and outmoded expressions from the early 20th century.

(The words in italics are stage directions.)

St. Dominic's, 1917

The Cast

GWEN, FAUVETTE, MORVYTH: Fifth form girls
ELSPETH: Fifth form monitor
MISS BEESLEY: Headmistress

Scene I

Dropcloth of cover of girls' school books circa 1917. Recorded sound of girls singing school song. Superimpose projections caption: "THE FIFTH FORM AT ST. DOMINICS, 1917". Fade caption. Superimpose second caption: "CHAPTER ONE". Fade caption. Superimpose third caption: "GWEN MAKES A BAD START". Meanwhile, over the public address system:

VOICE (female): in the depth of every Englishman's subconscious there is a cat-o'-nine-tails and a schoolgirl in black stockings. Remark attributed to the French humorist, Pierre Daninos.

The school song, which has faded for the announcement, swells up and ends. The dropcloth rises. Behind it are three dormitory camp beds, occupied by GWEN, FAUVETTE, and MORVYTH. A bell rings. ELSPETH, the dormitory prefect, enters, dressed in school uniform--gymslip, black stockings, white blouse, and school tie.

ELSPETH: Come on, girls! Stir your old bones! Don't want to treat you to a jaw-wag on the first day of term. Let's have no monkey tricks, or Miss Beesley'll be down on us like a ton of bricks!

GWEN (sitting up in bed): Must you be so jinky, Elspeth? This child's fagged out entirely!

ELSPETH: Stop frivolling, you silly young blighter, or I'll splificate you!

FAUVETTE (to audience): Fumed Elspeth.

GWEN: You needn't be so peacocky, just because you're a monitor!

FAUVETTE (to audience): Chirruped Gwen, with a grin on her impish face.

ELSPETH (to GWEN): Now listen to me, you young scalawag. You may have been the firebrand of the Fourth, but this is your first day in the Fifth, and you'll have a grizzly time of it unless you mind your manners!

GWEN (jumping out of bed and slipping dark blue knickers under her nightie): No use expecting me to knuckle under, Elspeth, I'm as used to scolding as eels to skinning!

ELSPETH: Any more chat from you, and I'll report you to Miss Beesley. And a summons from that worthy rarely bodes good fortune to the recipient. (To audience) Gwen's gauche and brusque, but at heart she's unimpeachable!

Morvyth, still curled up in bed, suddenly bursts into tears.

ELSPETH (going to MORVYTH'S bed): Hello! Whence this thusness? Gracious, girl, turn off the waterworks! We don't care for this sickly sort of stuff at St. Dominic's.

MORVYTH: I'm sorry, Elspeth, but I'm dreadfully homesick!

FAUVETTE (to audience; by now she is languidly dressing and washing): Wailed Morvyth.

ELSPETH: For goodness' sake bottle it up, Morvyth!

MORVYTH: But my brother's volunteered to be a Tommy, you see, and they're sending him to the front!

ELSPETH: Then you ought to be proud of him, you silly goose! I've met some lads who've come back blinded from the war, and they're twice as cheerful and patient as you.

MORVYTH (hugging ELSPETH): You are a trump, Elspeth!

ELSPETH (extricating herself) Don't, Morvyth!

FAUVETTE (to audience): Said Elspeth huskily.

ELSPETH (to audience): Morvyth is a dear, delightful lovable lazybones, with sweetly coaxing little ways, and a helpless confiding look in her blue eyes. Her fossils form the nucleus of the school museum.

All the girls are now out of bed and dressing. They follow the same procedure: having pulled on their knickers, they remove their nighties and put on white blouses, gymslips, school ties, and black stockings held by garters.

GWEN (to audience): The spiciest character in the form is Fauvette, otherwise known as "The Kipper", and rumoured to be the richest girl in school.

FAUVETTE (to audience): Some of the girls are fearfully down on me because my wealthy parents send me postal orders. They tease me and call me "Proudie" or "Madam Conceit".

Bell rings.

ELSPETH: Oops! Two minutes to go before Assembly. Scooterons-nous this very sec! I'll nip ahead, Fauvette, I'm counting on you to see to it that the Fifth is there on time in full fig! (Elspeth exits.)

FAUVETTE: Strafe the dear old Fifth as far as I'm concerned! Elspeth may be in a rush, but it's not this child's usual way of proceeding!

GWEN: Fauvette!

FAUVETTE (to audience): Interposed Gwen, her dark eyes dancing.

GWEN: Will the Bumble Bee be taking us for English composition?

All three, fully dressed, have come downstage. The dropcloth falls behind them.

FAUVETTE: The Bumble Bee? Great Minerva, how ignorant the new bug is! My poor babe, let me initiate you into the shibboleths of the Fifth. Be it known to you that our respected Head, Miss Beasley, vulgarly known as the Bumble Bee, is among our elect set yclept Lemonade--partly owing to her habit of fizzing over, and partly owing to a certain acid quality in her temper.

GWEN: But why shouldn't I call her the Bumble Bee if I want to?

FAUVETTE: Because, old sport, you mustn't correct your betters.

GWEN: And what makes you better than I am?

MORVYTH (to audience): Sniffed Gwen in her forthright way.

FAUVETTE: Because, frabjous child, your parents are humble folk, whereas mine are bearing the nation's burden on their shoulders.

MORVYTH: Do stow it, Fauvette!

FAUVETTE (to GWEN): Make no mistake, I shall take care to keep my weekly postal order locked up in my desk, in case you snaffle it!

GWEN: I wouldn't touch anything of yours with a pair of tongs!

MORVYTH (to audience): Flared Gwen.

FAUVETTE: And I wouldn't touch anything of yours except with a pair of tongs. You're so unwashed!

GWEN: You old bluebottle!

GWEN throws herself on FAUVETTE. They pummel each other, rolling around on the stage. MORVYTH looks aghast. Suddenly ELSPETH re-enters, looking fierce.

ELSPETH (separating the combatants): Peace, turbulent herd! Fauvette, tell me what happened.

FAUVETTE: Please don't think me a rotten sneak, Elspeth, but Gwen set upon me!

GWEN (hotly): I say ...

MORVYTH (to audience): Interjected Gwen.

ELSPETH: Did you start this imbroglio, Gwen?

GWEN: Great heavens, no, Fauvette egged me on!

ELSPETH: Then let me give you both a word of advice, my lofty Pharaohs. Pride frequently comes before a fall.

ELSPETH seizes Gwen by the ear. Fauvette looks smug.

MORVYTH (to audience): I see breakers ahead.

All four girls freeze in this grouping.

VOICE (female, over public address system): You have now met GWEN, FAUVETTE, MORVYTH, and ELSPETH. At the end of this sketch, one of them will be publicly spanked. By a process of elimination, you, the audience, will decide on the victim. You can now eliminate either Gwen or Fauvette. Please indicate your choice by raising your right hand.

Is it Gwen?

GWEN steps forward from group and faces audience.

Or Fauvette?

FAUVETTE does the same.

(Using whichever name gets the most votes)__________ is hereby exonerated.

BLACKOUT

Next - Scene II

Brushstrokes

Bonnie told us all about Randy's favourite implement here, and it seems that the shop it came from - Crabtree and Evelyn - no longer carries them. While wandering through a large downtown shopping mall last week, I passed a Crabtree and Evelyn, and on impulse I went in to check for wooden bath brushes.

I found a wooden bath brush. Not like the one in Bonnie's post; it was straight and the bristles were set into rubber. I had to reach around a customer to examine it and a couple of other wooden items. She and the sales assistant helping her must have wondered what the attraction was.








There was another interesting shop, filled with an eclectic assortment of gifts, clothing and toiletries. In a corner, beside the soaps and lotions, I saw a dark wood cabinet with several shelves and locked glass doors. Each shelf contained a variety of shaving brushes and stands. (Did you know a shaving brush lasts longer if you hang it from its own little stand?) The prices were pretty steep, but the brushes were lovely to look at.









Then on a lower shelf I saw two hairbrushes lying side by side. The long, narrow one was labelled as a man's brush, and the shorter, wider one was a woman's. The man's brush cost twice as much but I thought the ladies' model would do a much better job. And I don't mean brushing hair.

Second Thoughts about the Hairbrush

You may recall from a previous post I have had my doubts about the hairbrush and its inability to make much of an impression on my bottom. So we tried the the backward approach, and here's what happened.

I was in position along the length of the bed, a single pillow tucked under my tummy. Ron slid open the drawer and shuffled the implements. He picked up the dogleg brush and I moaned involuntarily. He put it down, groped a bit more, then retrieved his current favourites: the red slapper and the hairbrush.

"Perfect," I said. This would be my chance to test my theory. "Wood first."

Ron didn't waste any time. He reached for the brush and knelt beside me. I held my breath and braced myself for the impact.

Smack! It was hard, loud and right on target. And so were the dozen or so swats that followed. Why had I doubted that the hairbrush could do the job? Ow! Why had I encouraged Ron not to hold back? Ow! Each stroke produced some sort of verbal protest from me, and I couldn't keep still.

I told myself that this was exactly what I had wanted while I kicked and squirmed after each hard whack. After a little break for some very nice stroking, I jumped and groaned at the resumption of swats. The brush was still doing a fine job, although it didn't hurt quite as much.

Ron put the brush down and I felt the bed move as he shifted his position. What was he doing? He shoved my legs apart and knelt between them. I didn't like to think what sort of view I was presenting back there. Luckily I didn't have long to worry about it because the slapper hit my bottom with a loud crack.

My little red friend sounded louder than ever, and I can't say I felt much. After the bite of the brush, its tiny sting was barely noticeable. No matter. The loud slapping was hypnotic and I rolled my hips to meet each stroke.

Ron set the slapper down and explored the area between my legs. He could tell I had enjoyed the spanking so far. He continued his caresses and I relaxed, then suddenly stiffened as I heard - and felt - another pair of swats on my backside. Ron was wielding the slapper with his left hand while pleasuring me with his right. This was a rare treat and I gave myself fully to the sensations...

So I now have new respect for the wooden hairbrush. It's great as long as we skip the warmup.

Spanking Backward

We recently had another session with our current favourites - the red slapper and the hairbrush. The slapper always makes such a lot of lovely noise, and produces a reasonable sting. Then the hairbrush...

The hairbrush doesn't seem to do it for me. I thought it was supposed to be a fearsome implement, small and hard and capable of quite a sting. But I wasn't feeling much other than dull thuds. I even shifted from elbows and knees to a flatter position on my tummy so my bottom would be more evenly accessible. That helped to some extent, but I started to wonder if I had developed *buns of steel.

I noticed afterward that the brush had made my bottom very red, but I wondered about the lack of sting. An hour or so later, I asked Ron if he had been holding back.

"Yes," he admitted. "It's pretty heavy. I'm afraid of hurting you."

"Don't be. That's why we use it second, after a warmup, so it doesn't hurt as much."

Later that evening the burn set in, and a day later I could still feel it, so the brush must have done something. I told Ron I was sore so that he could give me a little sympathy and a gentle rub. I got the rub, but no sympathy.

"I beat your ass with a hairbrush. That would account for it."

Since then I've been thinking. Ron always asks if I want the hairbrush first, and I say no. But maybe if he reverses the order, it will make more of an immediate impression on me. Then the slapper on my tenderized bottom might also be ouchier.

Inquiring minds want to know. I feel a scientific experiment coming on.

*No danger of that. I checked, and they're still as wobbly as ever.

Two for One Offer

Lately we've been experimenting with two implements during a spanking - one leather and one wood. Or, as I like to say, one soft and one hard, and in that order. The last time we had an OTK session I got out both the red leather slapper and the hairbrush, but for some reason Ron stayed with the slapper. I have to admit he's quite comfortable using it now, and has figured out how to produce less noise and more sting. That was so nice I didn't feel I had any reason to stop him and ask for something else. When we were done, Ron tossed both implements into the drawer of his bedside table, so at present the hairbrush isn't hanging up like it was when I took the above picture. (You'll be pleased to see that I eventually finished my craft project.)

I was still determined to experience the brush, so last week, when I was bent over the bed and Ron got the slapper out of the drawer I asked, "May I have the hairbrush too?"

He didn't say anything, but picked it up and laid it on the bed within easy reach. Then he got down to business with the leather implement. I was soon well reddened and feeling warm and tender back there, and a lengthy pause for some exploring in my private region had me quite aroused.

The exploration stopped and I braced myself for the swats to resume. As soon as I felt the first one I knew it was the hairbrush. Since this was Ron's first time using it, he wasn't being too energetic, but it was the sound that fascinated me. After hearing the loud crack of leather, this was a sort of muffled thud, thud, thud.

Then I heard, not a thud, but a clunk! Ron had aimed a little too high on my bottom and had brought the brush down on an area that wasn't very well-padded. That was the sound of wood on thinly-covered bone. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't pleasant either.

Ron is very attuned to what he is doing so he adjusted his swing, and all subsequent brushstrokes landed nice and low, where the padding is generous and the sting is strong but so erotic. I was both glad and sorry when it was over and we turned our attention to other more intimate matters.

The burn from the brush lasted well over 24 hours, and I smiled frequently as I remembered our "two for the price of one" session.

Not Tested on Animals

When I shop for health and beauty products I always try to choose ones that have not been tested on animals. While in a department store recently I noticed an attractive hairbrush display and stopped to get a closer look.
The brushes were made of wood, with natural bristles--not that I cared about that--and was just the right size. I turned it over and read the plastic packaging that surrounded it. "Not tested on animals."
Huh? Does that mean that no bunnies were spanked during the manufacturing of this hairbrush? Did they test it on human bottoms instead? Or synthetic ones?
Their website doesn't indicate "no animal testing" on any of their products, as far as I could tell. (They do have a nice assortment of bath brushes and backscratchers, though.)

... by Its Cover

Last summer I went out of town on a work-related course. I was pleased to find that the location of the training centre was a mere three blocks from an adult toy store I had never visited before.

During the lunch break I hurried out for a quick shopping trip. I'm sorry to say the selection of implements was pretty sparse: one wooden paddle with holes and a vibrating riding crop. Were they sold out of everything?

The selection of books was extensive and they were attractively displayed by category. The title of one caught my eye immediately: 100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed. Yes, that looked like a juicy read for the evening. I bought the book, tucked it into my shoulder bag to hide the distinctively marked plastic bag it was in (whatever happened to plain brown wrappers?) and hurried back to resume my education.

When we were dismissed for the day, I eagerly hurried back to my hotel, stopping for takeout pizza and salad along the way. I was looking forward to a cozy evening.

I changed into something comfortable, enjoyed my dinner, then settled into bed to read, my vibrator within easy reach. I opened the book and started. It was an autobiographical account written by an Italian schoolgirl. She described teenage angst, copulation, a motorcycle, more copulation, more angst, oral sex, a weird boyfriend....

So where was the hairbrush? I was 50 pages into the book and still hadn't found any spanking. There was plenty of intercourse, but frankly, graphic descriptions of sexual activity leave me dry cold. The book was boring!

I started to speed read, flipping pages quickly to find the 'good parts'. There weren't any. What I found instead was a single paragraph that explained it all. The author described how her mother has always taught her to brush her hair 100 times each night. Aargh! A hairbrush used on hair!

I abandoned the book. And the vibrator. But the problem of what to do with the book remained. I was reluctant to pack it in my suitcase and bring it home with me. That just added extra weight to my luggage, and I would still need to dispose of it. I didn't want it. Could I toss it into the wastebasket in my room? Leave it for the chambermaids to find?

I couldn't return it to the store. What would I say? That they misclassified the book, and it shouldn't have been displayed in the S&M section because there was no spanking in it?

I wrapped the book in the plastic bag it came in and the next morning, on my way back to class, I tossed it into a garbage container on the street. That was a waste of $16.99 plus tax!