Thunder Clap Them Cheeks

Each evening while I am preparing dinner, Ron goes to the laptop on our dining room table and chooses a stream of music from Youtube. Last night it was a compilation of folk tunes. We listened to the familiar songs by our favourite performers - Gordon Lightfoot, Neil Young, Ian and Sylvia, Colleen Peterson. (See what I did there? All Canadian superstars.)

Then a song came on that was unfamiliar, and not folk at all. Jazz, perhaps? But the lyrics were unmistakably spanko. It's a rather naughty song, and I think you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

 

That sound, oh baby, that sound.

Slava Ukraini
Glory to Ukraine

Better Late than Never

Sorry I have not been around this week. We've had family visitors, an ailing laptop, and major renovations around our front door, so things have been quite hectic. For  those of you who responded to the brunch question after I posted the recap, my apologies. Your responses are there now.

Whenever I hear this song by Sarah McLaughlan, I can't help but think of someone, bottom bared and draped over a disciplinaarian's lap, being told to "hold on to yourself, for this is gonna hurt like hell." 

 

 

Slava Ukraini
Glory to Ukraine

What a Bum Bum!

Ron and I have been enjoying a series called How it Really Happened with moderator Hill Harper. One season gave details on all the famous mass murderers and how they were caught. The season we are watching now features famous musicians and actors, and how they met their sad ends. Last night we saw how Selena Quintanilla, a Latina singer on the verge of releasing her first English-language album, was murdered by a trusted friend. 

One of the songs she sang on the show made our ears perk up. The lyrics sounded like "bitty bitty bum bum". I found the song on YouTube and thought you might like to enjoy it with me. Hint: Selena's bum is anything but bitty. There are some lovely shots of it in the video.

A Spanko Band?

I have mentioned before that we regularly listen to The Wolf, an online oldies radio station from California. Their website displays the album cover for the current song being played. One day I happened to glance at the screen and saw this:

Had I discovered a spanko band from the seventies? I wasn't familiar with Average White Band, but recognized the song that was playing; it was their hit "Pick Up The Pieces". That tune by the Scottish funk and R&B band had failed to make the charts in Britain but soared to number 1 on the American pop charts.

Listen to it, and see if you think it's a good tune to spank or be spanked to.

Musical Interlude

 

In this holiday season we enjoy listening to all the old favourite Christmas songs on the radio. We also play our Christmas CDs in the kitchen while preparing dinner together. The other evening Ron was stirring something on the stove and I was bending over in front of a low cupboard, looking for a baking pan. The music was playing, and suddenly I felt a stern hand on my bottom, smacking it in time to the music.

"That's your song," he explained. I listened, and heard Joan Baez singing "The Little Drummer Boy".

"Rum pa pum pum, on my bum," Ron sang.

I guess he had a point.

* * *

The next afternoon I was bent over the end of the bed, struggling through our weekly spanking session. Ron had brought out the big wooden spoon. We both like it (him more than me, though) because of its unusual musical capabilities. When he whacks my left cheek, it makes a distinctive sound. When he whacks the right one, the tone is different. Ron decided to have some fun. He tapped out a rhythm  then stopped.

"Can you guess what I just played?"

"I have no idea." Wrong answer.

"Let me play some more," and he did.

"Still don't know," I answered. I was getting a bit sore from all the percussion.

"It's 'God Save the Queen'", Ron announced proudly. "Listen." He proceeded to play the first verse over again.

"Yes, yes, I get it. That's lovely." I laughed with delight, surprised that Ron had chosen that particular song, since he's quite opposed to the monarchy. I guess he knew I would like it, since I'm quite an enthusiastic supporter of the Queen.

I was even more surprised to hear what came next.

"You can use that in your blog."

So I did. See how obedient I am?

Spank that Spoon

 For those of you who read my post about the spanking spoons and didn't believe they were actually musical instruments, here's the proof. The pair shown above is an example of the spoons historically associated with Irish music, although they are commonly used in many types of folk music. Modern versions are joined at the end of the handle. This may be more practical for playing, but it renders the spoons useless for spanking, so I prefer the traditional style.


The video below explains how to play them. It looks a lot like spanking to me.

Music of the Spheres

At last week's brunch, Bonnie asked about tears during a spanking. My reply was that the only tears I shed are tears that come from laughing too hard. By coincidence, on that same day I experienced one of the times that I laughed till I cried.

Among the implements Ron selected for my spanking was a sturdy wooden spoon that he hadn't used for some time. It was placed on the bed along with two leather paddles and a short cane. Ron started with the spoon. He alternated smacks on my cheeks, as usual, but then he made an observation.

"Listen." Thwump. Thwick. "They make different sounds." He repeated the demonstration in case I hadn't understood. Thwump. Thwick. Thwump. Thwick. Thwump. Thwick.*

"So my cheeks are uneven? Different densities, I guess," I mumbled, my face buried in a pillow. The concert progressed. Thwump thwick. Spock spack. Thwump thwick. Spock spack. Thwump thwick. Spock spack.


"Like one of those Jamaican drums that you can tune." I meant the steel drums of Trinidad, but at the time I just wasn't thinking too clearly.


"You have a Jamaican butt." Ron proceeded to tap out a calypso beat on my bottom as I giggled and tried to sway to the beat.


The spoon was put aside for one of the leather paddles, but after a time its turn came again.
Ron whacked, then listened. He whacked again, then declared, "There I've got them tuned now." and the concert continued as he turned the spoon this way and that to produce a variety of sounds. Thwump thwump. Spock spack spick. Thwick thwick thwick. Spock spock.

I could barely control myself as I laughed and he played. I didn't even feel any discomfort from the spoon as the concert continued, and only noticed a sting when Ron switched to the cane for a little change of pace.

After a dose of the small leather paddle and a longer session with its larger counterpart, the spoon came into play for the third time. Ron tapped one cheek, then the other, then tapped harder. Thuck. Sput.

"They're out of tune again. I'll have to fix that." By then I was practically hysterical, and the tuning effort ended in disaster as he just couldn't get my cheeks to produce exactly the right sounds, or so he said. We were both laughing and even the resumption of the cane couldn't put a damper on our fun.

"I think you've worn that spoon out. I'll check the ones in the kitchen and get you a replacement," I consoled him as I had dried my eyes on my sleeve.


*I really wish I could have recorded that session so you could hear the actual sounds the spoon made but I'm afraid you will have to settle for my attempts to write them phonetically.

A Musical Tribute

Today is the 185th anniversary of the death of Ludwig van Beethoven. In his memory, here is a short excerpt from one of his most familiar musical compositions, courtesy of The Daily What.



Give that girl a hand!

Whip it Good

Sometimes, when a man loves two hobbies very, very much he combines the two of them into a delightfully kinky spectacle.





Hands up those of you who are imagining a bare bottom on the receiving end of those whips, just out of camera range.

Speaking of Bottoms

Lately I seem to be noticing references to bottoms everywhere I look. Is it just me? Something only a spanko would pick up on?

For example, there's Paul McCartney"s new album, called Kisses on the Bottom. Aha, I thought. There must be at least one song with references to spanking on it. But no. The title comes from the song I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter, and all the songs are distinctly vanilla. Too bad.


Now here's a shot of the package that our breakfast yogurt came in. Doesn't it call out to your inner spanko?

A little honey on my bottom might lead to interesting consequences. After all, getting the paddle sticky is a spanking offense.



Bottoms aren't often found on car hoods, but this car is the exception.

I would be quite distracted if I saw this in my rear-view mirror while driving.

Wednesday WIN

Who knew vinyl records were kinky? I hear they're making a comeback.

A Belt needs a Steady Hand

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Bottom Song

CBC radio never ceases to amaze me with their eclectic music selections; my daily commute is always an adventure. Recently, Radio 1 played a portion of a song by the now-defunct Anglo-Irish experimental band, Stump.

Why the song is called Buffalo, I can't imagine. A more appropriate title would be Ode to Big Bottoms. Maybe after listening to it, you can suggest a better name for the song.

Unexpected Spanking

We often listen to the Oldies radio station, and one of the artists featured regularly is Buddy Holly. I like his music, but never thought there was anything special about it. Then, because Ron remembers "the day the music died," we watched The Buddy Holly Story - a musical re-enactment of Buddy's rise to fame that includes performances of most of his songs.

The scene that caught my attention was one in which Buddy and the Crickets were about to record Everyday. Buddy turned to the drummer and told him to "do that slapping thing of yours" and Jerry, the drummer, immediately started slapping his thigh with his right hand.

Now, the song moves at a moderate speed: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4. But the slapping was double that speed: 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and ... so what you hear in the background is a rapid-fire spanking that continues for the whole   two minutes. After watching that hand for a few seconds I had to look away. It was just too perfect not to belong to a spanko.

What do you think? Listen and decide for yourself.

This is gonna hurt like hell

Canadian singer and songwriter Sarah McLachlan starts her song Hold On this way:

Hold on
Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell

I get a kinky thrill every time I hear that line. My ears stop listening and my mind starts generating all sorts of lovely spanking story lines and images. The song isn't about spanking, but it is about pain.

Here's the whole song, performed by Sarah:

A Hurtin' Song

What would I do without CBC radio to entertain me during my daily commute? This little gem by James Morrison caught my attention. Can you guess why?

If loving you is easy,
Playing by the rules,
But you said love tastes so much better when it's cruel.
To you everything was just a game.


Yeah, you played me good,
But I want you, I want you, I want you,
So much more than I should,
Yes I do.


I've got my hands up so take your aim,
Yeah, I'm ready.
There's nothing that we can't go through.
Oh, it hit me like a steel freight train,
When you left me,
And nothing ever hurt like you,
Nothing ever hurt like you.


I was naive and wide-eyed
But you made me see,
That you don't get to taste the honey
Without the sting of a bee,
No you don't.


Yes, you stung me good,
Oh yeah, you dug in deep,
But I'll take it, I'll take it, I'll take it
Till I'm down on my knees.


I've got my hands up so take your aim,
Yeah I'm ready,
There's nothing that we can't go through,
Walk a thousand miles on broken glass,
It won't stop me
from making my way back to you.
It's not real till you feel the pain,
And nothing ever hurt like you,
Nothing ever hurt like you.

Listen to the song here.

A Grand Ole Spanking

Music was playing in the kitchen one evening as we worked side by side preparing dinner. I noticed that the songs - by one of our favourite Canadian folksingers - were ones I'd heard only the night before; Ron hadn't changed the CDs in the player for quite a while. I remarked to him that we were hearing the same songs for the third time.

Big mistake! He wasn't in the mood for any sort of criticism and took my innocent remark to heart. After a sharp retort, he disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a fresh batch of music. Once the CDs was loaded and the first one began to play, I bitterly regretted having complained about the previous repetition. I am not a big fan of country music, and on knows it. But he had unearthed the works of some very old country stars, and we were listening to it.

"Who is that? It sounds like someone from the Grand Old Opry."

"You're right," Ron replied. "Hank Williams was one of the inventers of modern country music. That'll serve you right for complaining about my choice of music."

"So you're punishing me?"

"Sure am."

"Why don't you spank me if you want to punish me?"

"Oh, no, you'd enjoy that. Spanking's a reward for you."

True. I couldn't help but listen to the music, because I still had to take care of dinner. After a while, I started to hum along with Hank; he was singing something old but familiar. Ron surprised me when he said, "This music isn't so bad after all.

It's turning out to be a pretty ineffective punishment for you."

"That's right. You should have spanked me instead."

Some men never learn.

Sixties Spankos

We recently unearthed our vinyl collection (records, not underwear) from the attic, and Ron and I have been reliving the musical pleasures of days gone by. We each had an assortment from two somewhat different musical periods, but we were delighted to discover that we had a few duplicate albums. In some cases, we've been wondering how on earth we ever could have enjoyed listening to that noise music.

One of the groups I was passionately fond of at age 15 was Herman's Hermits. Forty years later, their music just doesn't have the same appeal, with one notable exception.

I always thought that this song had some spanking references in it.

I've been hurt by love too many times
Not to know the signs of breaking up when they appear.


Don't try to hurt me
Don't try to harm me
Don't try to hurt me, or you'll pay.


'Cos you know I get mad, yeah, go bad
And when I get mad
You know I do things
I really shouldn't do.


I've told you once before, and I'll tell you once again
Don't try to hurt me, or you'll pay


I've told you the first time to be good,
That was almost the second time, but there won't be a third.


Don't try to hurt me
Don't try to harm me
Don't try to hurt me, or you'll pay.

What do you think?

Beat the Singer

Someone recently told me this interesting bit of trivia. Did you know that the great choirs in England - like King's College Cambridge - have people assigned as beaters?

My imagination got the better of me as I pictured the beaters in action. They would be ever vigilant, always prepared to spank a soprano for singing sharp, or to cane a countertenor for singing flat. They would belt any bass who sang too loud and tawse the tenors who were late with an entry.

No, that isn't what beaters really do. They unobtrusively indicate the beat of the music, so that everyone stays together. As you can see from the photo above, the choir is arranged in rows facing one another, so they look at the beater on the opposite side for signals.

Still, it was an interesting possibility.

Hurtin'

Ron is a fan of country and western music, and there are a few artists from days gone by that he's especially fond of. One of them is Conway Twitty. As Ron explains it, he sings "hurtin' songs" that all have strong sexual connotations. That sounds like a fine definition of the activity I like best - a combination of pain and pleasure.

The other might, Ron loaded one of his favourite cassette tapes into the player. (Yes, we still play cassettes and CDs. Our house is ipod-free.) The song that came on was one that always makes me laugh and think of spanking. After each line, there's a short repeated refrain. As we listened to Conway sing, Ron pointed to me when it was time for the refrain, and I eagerly joined in with "bum, bum, bum."

I told you it was a hurtin' song. Listen to it here, courtesy of Ron. And enjoy the wardrobe and hairstyles.