The Breakaway Paddle

In 1953 George F. Jorgenson invented a paddle with a breakaway handle, for use by overzealous disciplinarians. He explains in his notes, "A primary object of this invention is to provide a paddle for use in disciplining...the paddle having means for preventing accidental injury...by striking too hard a blow." The paddle was "light in construction, sturdy and durable, and inexpensive to manufacture."

No need to exercise restraint and moderation; the paddle will do it for you. Apply the paddle with too much force and the handle will give way, I assume at numbers 43 and 38. (Patent number 2645488)

Paddling, 1940s style

I have a charming book called 101 Things to do in Wartime, originally published in 1940 and reprinted in 2007. It's amazing how much of the information on reusing, recycling and making do is still relevant today.

Some of the more interesting projects include making toys out of felt, creating puzzles from cardboard, wood, and wire, and knitting clothing with crepe paper instead of wool. There are also tips on saving fuel, and that's as important now as it was 70 years ago. The instructions for making blackout shades and protecting windows with masking tape - not so much.

I thought you might enjoy seeing the detailed instructions for making a ping pong or table tennis paddle. The names of some of the materials have changed over the years, but you'll get the idea.

I like the idea of covering one side with cork and the other with glasspaper (sandpaper). Covering the handle with cork would give the paddler a distinct advantage, don't you think?

If you are interested in what life was like in wartime Britain, an excellent recreation of the experience was filmed by BBC and broadcast on PBS. It's available as a DVD from PBS, and is also on YouTube in two parts here and here.

Not your average grandma

Introducing the latest addition to our arsenal of bottom warmers.

It says it's "Grandma's paddle", but I can think of a few grandmothers - including yours truly - who would need something stronger than this applied to their bottoms. The lace-trimmed puffy heart would only tickle!

Speaking of grandmothers, click here to watch a frisky granny as she prepares her buns with plenty of naughty innuendos. Sticky buns, that is, or as she calls them, "man catchers."

Uneven

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guess the Implement - Oops!

This is what happened when Ron spanked me with our New Orleans keepsake.

It wasn't made for that kind of heavy use!

Thanks for all your suggestions for its real purpose. Unfortunately, it's too late to test it on a batch of gumbo.

Dagwood Paddled

This is one panel from a recent Blondie comic in the weekend paper. The reason it caught my eye is because way back when, there was a strip in which Dagwood got paddled by Blondie. I'm pretty sure she used this very paddle.

This is probably a sly way for the writer, Dean Young, to refer to the older strip by his father Chic Young. I like to think so, anyway.

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.

Size - It Does Matter

In a recent post, I told you about Ron's new implements and how effective they were on my bottom. But it was hard to judge the size of the weapons from the pictures, and you may have been left with the impression that they were small and unimpressive.

I assembled some implements and photographed them so you could see for yourself that bigger is indeed better.

In this picture, at the bottom is a sixteen-inch wooden ruler. The paddle above it - called "The Wedge" - is the one Ron got for Christmas. Compare its size to the smaller maple paddle at the top, also hand-crafted by the same manufacturer - Littledeer.

(I have a confession. We had both completely forgotten about the smaller paddle until I started preparing for this shoot. It had somehow become buried at the bottom of the implement drawer.  I wonder how that happened.)

We recently used both paddles in a session, and the little one hurts waaay more!

Here we have the same 16 inch ruler, and above it the newest spatula. As you can see, compared to the smaller one above it - which is the size commonly used for cooking - it's a real whopper!

A Christmas Cracker

I haven't told you about my Christmas spanking, have I? Yes, I actually got spanked on the day!

One of the gifts I gave Ron was a package containing several kitchen tools. The first and second were useful for vanilla purposes. This was the third:

"What's this?" Ron asked, as he pulled it from the box. He read the cardboard label. "It's a spatula. A high-heat resistant spatula." Then he looked at me quizzically. "Not for the kitchen, though."

"No, it's not," I grinned, embarrassed but delighted that he understood the implement's real purpose.

Then he rummaged in the box, pulled aside the tissue paper, and extracted the last item.

"And what's this called?"

"A wedge."

"Also not for the kitchen." Ron tapped it against his palm, experimenting with the weight and feel.

"We can try them out later," I hinted, and heard no disagreement.

The rest of the day was spent setting up a new technological gadget. After numerous trips to the computer to read the online help manual or to Google the latest problem, we both needed some stress relief.

Since Christmas fell on our usual day for spanking, when the appointed time rolled around I suggested to Ron that it was time to try out his presents. He muttered something about basting the turkey, but I assured him we would be done before it needed more attention.

So we climbed the stairs to the bedroom, where I obediently lowered my jeans and panties and positioned myself over the end of the bed.

The spatula was an oversized one - much bigger than the usual kind. Splat! It produced a satisfying thud and was just right for a warmup.

The wedge was formidable, though. Also rather large, it packed a real wallop. Ron was impressed.

"I like this.  It bounces right off your butt."

"Oh, good."

Ron happily alternated sets using one, then the other. This was one Christmas I wouldn't forget in a hurry. But alas, all good things must come to an end. We heard the stove timer pinging; the turkey beckoned.

"That's all. You're as red as Rudolph's nose," Ron announced. He opened the implement drawer, added the two latest additions to his arsenal, then came back, put his arms around me and whispered, "Merry Christmas."

Last Minute Shopping

Ron is always on the lookout for pictures I can use on this blog. He reads the newspapers before I do, and when he saw these decidedly kinky pictures in the colour sales flyer of a major Canadian department store, he put the flyer on top of the pile of papers so I would be sure to see them.

This picture was on the front page of the sales flyer from The Bay.

And this one was inside. I hope this means Ron is going to give me a Christmas paddle!

Several years ago, a popular advertising slogan for this store was "It's hard not to think of The Bay." Why does that come to mind now? Somehow it seems so appropriate.

My good friend Red beat me to it with these pictures (no pun intended) but Ron would have been disappointed if I hadn't posted them here. So if you saw them there, well, here they are again!

Music of the Spheres

It was my turn to choose the implements, so I brought out the belt, a white plastic spatula, and the new brown wooden paddle. Ron hadn't seen the paddle before, but he admired it and tested it against his palm as I explained the story behind it.

"So what do you think it is?" I asked.

"It's a paddle."

"Yes, but do you think someone made it for spanking? What was it for?" I persisted.

" It must be a ping pong paddle."

"A homemade ping pong paddle? But there was only one. I don't think so."

The first swats made me realize I had made a very unwise purchase, and that it was even more unwise (unwiser?) to argue. The homemade paddle set my bottom on fire immediately, and I had to beg Ron to slow down. He did, but didn't lessen the force of the impact.


"I'm taking that thing back to the store on Monday," I complained. Ron chuckled and ignored my outburst.

Finally he stopped and changed implements. The smack and thud of the leather belt was a welcome relief. I see far too little of it, so when I do it's always a treat.

Soon he switched to the slim white spatula and administered some rapid-fire staccato swats. I thought of the "Rapid-Fire Challenge" on Top Chef. I was undergoing my own challenge, and it wasn't in the kitchen. But it wasn't so bad now that my bottom was well warmed up.

All too soon, Ron went back to the wooden paddle. "I like this," he said. "It has a nice ring to it." He played a merry one-note tune on my reddened globes. I don't know exactly what it was but it clearly ended with "Shave and a haircut, two bits."

"I suppose if you had a collection of different sizes you could play a real tune," I observed.

No reply, except an energetic application of the paddle. The belt was ignored from then on. Ron alternated between the two stingy implements: the high-pitched white whacker and the deeper-voiced paddle.

"Yes, I really like this ping pong paddle. How much was it?"

"A dollar ninety-nine. Are we done here?"

"That was a real bargain. Okay, you're done. You're glowing in the dark."

Ron has a new favourite implement. Oh, goody.

Guess the Implement - Not!

Today's Mystery Implement is a bit different than usual. I found it in a thrift shop, and it really looks like a handmade wooden paddle. But do you think there might have been another use for it? I can't decide. Perhaps it was intended to have a picture glued to one side of it. Or maybe some teenaged boy made it in shop class to paddle his girlfriend with.

Do you think it had a vanilla purpose? If so, what?

When I found this little gem, my first thought was how exciting it would be to show it to Ron when I got home. Then I remembered that I was with a vanilla friend. How would I explain my purchase to her if she saw me carrying it to the checkout? What would I tell her I was going to use it for? 

What do you think I should have told my shopping companion?

Red and white ... and red

To celebrate Canada Day today, Ron brought out our red and white implements and gave me a very thorough and patriotic bottom-warming. First, the red leather slapper was applied slowly and methodically.

"Did you know the side with the holes makes a different sound from the side without?" Ron asked me.

"Mmmph. No," I muttered from beneath the bedspread where my upper half had taken refuge. "Show me."

He did, and he was right. You learn something new every day!

Then Ron switched to the white composite spatula/paddle. Brisk, sharp strokes as the paddle danced over my cheeks; back and forth, up and down.

Back to the red leather, slow and solemn.

then the white, rapid-fire staccato.

Red thunderous swats, and white lightning in a grand finale.

And he concluded his version of our national anthem, I was displaying a very red rear - highly appropriate for our country's birthday. I'll be standing at attention for a while.


Happy Canada Day!

Wednesday WIN

Oh my, what a gigantic paddle he's got. He needs to use two hands to guide it. Do you think it will make contact with the young lady's bottom?




Quite possibly, although I think just one whack will knock her out of position. Does this remind anyone else of the croquet game in Alice in Wonderland?

Ten to Two

Last week Ron decided to give me a really memorable spanking. His chosen implement - the black leather paddle - was one he seldom uses, although it hangs from the bedpost as a constant reminder. He finds it a little hard to control because it is quite supple; he prefers implements that are more rigid, with just a little flexibility. So why did he decide on Black Beauty? Who knows?

What I do know is, once I was in position, bent over the end of the bed, the first few swats were agony. I squirmed and kicked as I struggled to stay in position while trying to avoid the worst of the impact. If I had to rate that pain on a scale of one to ten, it would have been ten, or pretty close to it.




I exhaled loudly when Ron stopped for a brief intermission and some gentle rubbing. But all too soon, the break was over, and I clenched my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut as the evil black strap connected with my bare bottom. each stroke was still very sharp, although the worst of it had passed. Even after a few more sets, with pauses in between, the severity was only slightly lessened, and I echoed each loud swat with an equally loud vocal response.

Then it all changed. The strokes were still as hard as before, and as loud as before, but I stopped minding them. They hurt, but in a good way. I stayed silent and drank them in.




I would like to say I stopped thinking about them and drifted away, but there was that tiny objective part of my mind that was asking, "Is this subspace?" Probably not, but I could tell that I was relaxed and still, breathing deeply and calmly. Pain? What pain? A two, at most.




Ron stopped. His work was done, and he had done it well. And he swore that he hadn't decreased the intensity whatsoever near the end.

So tell me, readers, have you experienced this sort of reversal of the amount of pain a spanking causes you? (No, I'm not going to ask you if this is "normal" :-) Do you go from a lot of pain to only a little? Or does a spanking hurt more and more as it progresses?

I'm curious.

Friday FAIL

Pervertables that shouldn't give up their day jobs in the vanilla world.



Personalized Apple Spoonrest
With artful style, our spoon rest features a pretty, raised apple design, along with the name of one special cook! We'll hand paint with your name of choice. Dolomite.

This looks like a perfectly lovely spanking implement - a white paddle with an apple and your very own name painted on it. But what's dolomite? Some kind of rock? No thanks! I prefer paddles that are either animal or vegetable, not mineral.

And wait an hour after eating

But I want a paddling now!

What's it Really For?

I'll bet you're all wondering what I decided on for Ron's Christmas implement. There were a lot of possibilities, but my mind kept returning to a roundish leather paddle that I had seen in a store when I bought "Black Beauty" - our leather slapper. I thought the two would make a lovely set. I found their website and the paddle arrived just in time for Christmas. I was even home at the time and intercepted the parcel when it arrived.

It's not exactly like this, but pretty close.


When Ron opened the gift bag on Christmas morning and unwrapped the paddle, his eyes widened. He turned it over to examine both sides, then remarked that it was pretty heavy-duty, and didn't have much give.

"Yes, well, I'm sure you'll be able to handle it," I reassured him, "and so will I."

"I suppose I can put it under the tree with the rest of the presents. We aren't expecting company." And he put it down among our other opened gifts.

So there it lay until the following afternoon, when Ron said," I'll use the new whacker on you tomorrow."

"Great!"

"So, what's it really for?"

"Huh? It's a paddle. What do you think it's for?" I wasn't expecting that question. Wasn't it obvious?

"It must be for something else. Is it for whacking livestock?"

I guess I've been buying too many implements at the tack shop. "No, it's for discipline, for paddling. It isn't for anything else; it was made specifically for spanking."

"Yeah, right... Is it some kind of spatula?"

"Look, I'll send you the link to the website. All they sell is stuff for spanking."

I suppose Ron was convinced; he didn't mention it again. And in case you were wondering, he handled it like a pro the next day. It felt exactly the way I had hoped it would -- solid and fairly stingy, and the sting didn't lessen over the duration of the spanking. I was still squeaking and squirming when he decided he had made a sufficient impact on my bottom.

Oh, and he's named it "Big Bertha."