Happy St Paddles Day

Everyone is Irish today, so let's let all our hair (and panties) down!

That's one reason to celebrate.

Irish kittehs will entertain you with music

and dancing

Party hearty, everyone!

Unusable? Think again

Some photos by Italian photographer Giuseppe Colarusso were recently posted on Bored Panda. He has created very clever pictures of common everyday objects made unusable. These are my favourites.

Wait a minute! That last one is far from unusable. Quite on the contrary, it looks very functional.

While I was looking at the pictures, Ron came into the room, looked over my shoulder, and saw the ping pong paddle on the screen. He thought it was very funny and just assumed I was looking at spanking implements. He asked where we could get one. I told him he would have to modify one of our paddles if he wanted to reproduce it.

I think I can hear him in the basement with the electric drill.


See more photos here.

Punch and (ouch!) Judy

Last week Chross posted a wonderful clip of a rather unexpected paddling scene on a popular mainstream television show.

The sketch is from an episode of The Carol Burnett Show that aired nearly forty years ago, with guest star Vincent Price as the narrator, and Carol and Joel Grey performing as puppets. In their song, Punch and Judy reveal the secret of their long and happy relationship.





As a side note, this is my 1500th published post. Whew! That's  lot of blogging!

We're not in Kansas anymore

Ron and I were walking through a local mall recently, and we decided to check out the larger of two dollar stores.  I led the way and headed right.  As we turned down the first aisle Ron exclaimed, "We're in the paddle section."

I looked up and saw an assortment of wooden spoons, spatulas, whisks and other pervertables. We were indeed in the paddle section.

"This used to be where the party supplies were," I protested.  "They must have reorganized the store.  Isn't it funny how I was attracted to this particular aisle?"

"Very funny."

I passed two bins holding long, slender sticks in various bright colors. "Look, canes!"

My husband looked, then looked again. Above the canes were an assortment of brush heads. "Those are broom handles."

We kept browsing, and I found the spanko bracelets that I've told you about. Ron laughed when I explained that I wanted them for my blog. There was a time when he would never have mentioned paddles, canes, or anything remotely related to spanking, in a store, at home, or anywhere. Now his spanko senses have been honed nearly as fine as mine.

Double your Pleasure

While cleaning out my closet the other day I came across this pair of paddles. I bought them in a thrift shop over a year ago and told you about them on Bonnie's blog, but I never had a chance to try them out. What was I waiting for? There's no time like the present so I carried them into our bedroom, retrieved our toy box from its hiding place under the bed, placed them on top, and slid the box back under before I could change my mind.

A few hours later I was summoned to the bedroom for s spanking. Ron sat on the bed and on the floor at his feet was the open toy box.

"You choose," he commanded.

The paddles had been right on top but now were nowhere to be seen. I glanced quickly around the room, thinking Ron had already selected them, but I didn't see them. My husband frowned at my hesitation, so I quickly chose a leather paddle and a wooden spatula and handed them to him. Ron nodded his approval then asked, "How about the riding crop?" so I gave him that too, because it wasn't really a question; it was an order.

I bent over and waited. There was silence, then the scrape of a drawer opening. What was going on?

I didn't have long to wonder, for almost immediately I felt the double impact. Whack! Both cheeks were assaulted at once. I turned and looked back. Ron was smiling and holding up the pair of paddles. Sneaky guy!

So he carried on, using first one, then the other, then both.

"I want to see if there's a difference," he explained.

"Feel free to ask my opinion," I retorted. "I ought to know! Actually, they both feel the same."

"No, I think this one's a little louder," and he demonstrated.

As the action progressed, and he returned to the paddles as he went through the rotation of implements, the swats became harder. Ron loves paddles that make a big sound.

"Hey," I protested after an especially loud and hard swat. "You'll break that."

"It's okay, I have a spare."

Needless to say, the paddles are here to stay. No more hiding in the closet for the Atlantic City twins.

Imagine...wood!

Last week was our anniversary, and in true spanko style, I gave Ron the gift that keeps on giving. Two of them, in fact. The first was a hand-crafted wooden flipper

and the second was a rock maple pizza cutter

They both came from Imagine Wood, a Canadian company that creates beautiful and durable kitchen utensils. As you can imagine, Ron was eager to try them out. He immediately bonded with the flipper, but was puzzled about the pizza cutter.

"Which end do I hold?" he asked me, as he turned it over and around in his hands.

"Experiment!" I advised, and he did. As it collided with my bare bottom, I could feel the difference in each individual swat, as he tried first the thin end, then the thick one, then back again.

The flipper was quite a surprise! It smacked loudly against my unprotected posterior, and Ron was able to make it dance rapidly from cheek to cheek.

"I'm going to try to break this on you," Ron announced gleefully.

"You can't. They're unbreakable. Read the instructions." Rock maple is very durable. But that didn't lessen the impact of the blows.

This pair of implements was a perfectly painful sting and thud duo. The sting of the flipper was augmented by the pizza cutter's thud, and he applied them both effectively and efficiently. I voiced my disapproval loudly; too loudly, as it turned out.

"I feel like I'm doing this to music," Ron complained as he paused to exchange implements.

"Huh? What music?" I was glad of the break, but couldn't hear anything except my heavy breathing.

"That noise you're making. 'Oo ee oo ah ah, ting tang walla walla bing bang.'"

I burst out laughing. "Do I really sound like that?" Were the windows open, I wondered. If you are under forty, you may not recognize the reference to a funny song from 1958 called Witch Doctor. If you're really curious and would like to hear it, it's on Youtube too.

I didn't think I sounded like a chipmunk when I was being spanked. Who knew?

We need to play this game

Following on yesterday's sports theme, I've discovered a game that Ron and I have to take up. It's frescobol - a game similar to raquetball, invented in Brazil in 1945. It is played by two or more players, and its primary distinction from other paddle-type sports is that it is played cooperatively; there are no winners or losers.

Just like spanking.

I don't really want to actually play frescobol. I just want the equipment. Can you imagine having all these gorgeous paddles lying around the house?

Paddling, Canadian-style

A recent article in the newspaper about the joys of paddling caught my eye. For your entertainment I have reproduced verbatim the portions that appeal to those of us with spanking on our minds.

Spectacular Paddling for Novices and Experts Alike

For the intrepid solo paddler, beginner lessons and certification courses are available to build...skills and confidence...

"First-time paddlers are very welcome..." says _____.  "Most of our clients have never been (paddled) before and it is very satisfying to see so many people thrilled at the end of the day that they have found a new activity to fall in love with. It is normal to be nervous for the first time, but our fully certified instructors will coach you through everything you need to know."

The experienced paddlers...also offer introductory lessons...and rentals.

For the more independent paddler, there are many...places of...interest including "quiet trails and sandy beaches, secluded bays, hidden channels (and) unique geological formations...

"Paddling...is very accessible to everyone," says _____. "With world class paddling right in your backyard, you can come and relax (and) rejuvenate... We provide the equipment, nature provides the rest."

Paddling Safety Tips
(Among the topics covered were:)
   Required equipment
   Paddle with friends
   Stay warm

The article was - in case you hadn't guessed - about canoeing and kayaking in the scenic lakes and extensive waterways of Canada. Those activities are fun too.

Colouring Outside the Lines

When I am spanked, most of what I receive is concentrated on my sweet spot - the centre of each buttock, where the padding is plentiful and the sensation is erotically delicious.

Sometimes the paddle strays beyond this imaginary centre. I call it colouring outside the lines. Sometimes it's a little higher or lower than the regular impact zone. This heightens the sensation for me and, because it's unexpected, it keeps my attention and draws me back if my mind starts to drift off. These out of bounds areas are also quite sensitive because they have not been warmed up, and the resulting jolt of pain adds some spice.

Take, for example, our most recent adventure with the dressage whip. Sometimes I think my husband can read my mind. I had been thinking and writing about that particular implement but he had no way of knowing. Yet that was what he had chosen. In fact, it was all he had chosen. But when I said it would be fine to use later on, after a warmup, he left the room and came back with the bamboo paddle and the wooden shoehorn. Neither one can be considered a lightweight implement in terms of pain, but both are easier on my bottom than the whip.

First he applied the stingy shoehorn, at moderate speed and intensity, to my bare bottom as I bent over the bed. Then the paddle, slower and more methodical, but with harder impact. So far, so good. Then the whip. Oh, no, too soon!

I knew the strokes weren't hard, but they were very stingy. I wished my bottom had had more of a warmup. Ron tends to adjust his speed according to the width of the implement, and the rapid tapping was very tingly indeed.

He switched to the two wooden weapons, and when it was time for the whip again it was a little more bearable. My target zone was warm, reddened, and adjusted to the treatment it was receiving.

The third time it came around, though, the strokes were much harder. That would have been fine, except that the tip was connecting with my right hip. This wrapping outside the comfort zone was initially an irritation, but it soon became an ouchiness I didn't want. I came extremely close to wanting this to end. Telling myself it was probably no worse than the caning I have been longing to experience didn't help.

Ron put down the whip, thank goodness, and applied each of the other paddles to my posterior again. Does it sound odd to say they felt good? Much nicer than the alternative. Then it was the whip's turn, but before I felt it, I heard a whistling swishhhh. Ron was waving the whip through the air, entranced by the sound. I started to laugh at his silliness.

Once more he coloured outside the lines, lower down this time. I knew I would have marks. Clenching the end of the blanket between my teeth, I willed myself to breathe and take it. The laughing helped, as Ron alternately sliced the air and my bottom, describing the sound that it made. I forced myself to remember my brave words about wanting my limits tested. They were being pushed, and I struggled to ignore that inner voice that shouted "Stop!"

Ron must have sensed my struggle, for he uncharacteristically asked "Are you done?" My lightning-fast "Yes!" brought our adventure outside the lines to a close. I wiped the tears from my eyes and hugged him. 

As I write this I do have marks: tiny red ridges along the outside of my right hip that look like long, bony fingers fanning out across the pale skin. I wonder how long they will linger as reminders of our excursion outside the lines.

An Impressive Collection

In response to my Mystery Implement post last week, one of my readers suggested it might be a butter paddle, used when making butter by hand. That reader kindly sent me a picture of their collection of antique butter paddles, all currently in use as spanking implements.

Impressive, no? The one on the far left is the twin of mine. I wonder if they feel the same when applied.

24 / 7

One weekend not so long ago we decided to try spanking 24/7. It's not what you're thinking; it wasn't all spanking, all the time. (A girl's gotta eat and sleep too!)

What we did was this. Ron selected seven implements, then spanked me twenty-four times with each one. He lined up his favourites on the bed: the dogging bat, black leather strap, round leather paddle, riding crop, wooden spoon, shoehorn and wooden paddle. Then he invited me to bend over the end of the bed after removing the clothing covering the lower half of my body.

Ron picked up the riding crop and asked, "Who's going to count? You or me?"

"I will," I volunteered. Do you want me to count out loud?"

"No, just count" and we were off. The crop provided a nice sting, just right for a warmup. Twenty-four came, and Ron didn't stop, so I thought I'd let him carry on while I enjoyed the sensation. He noticed eventually.

"Where are we?"

"Thirty-five."

"Never mind. I'll count. Somebody's got to do it right." Ron tossed the riding crop into the corner behind me. It hit the wall with a crash.

The next implement was the black leather strap. That packed a good wallop, and I was in a hurry for it to be over as soon as I felt the first four blows.

"Twenty-three, twenty-four," I gasped.

"No, no, I'm counting," Ron argued, then carried on for twenty more hard strokes. Oh well, it was worth a try.

And so it went, through the remaining implements in the stack. Some, like the shoehorn, were applied quickly and lightly. For others, the rhythm was slow, the impacts solid. And always, the clatter of the implement landing on its mates in an ever-increasing pile.

The round leather paddle did its job admirably as the seventh and final  implement to roughly caress my bottom. Then I was allowed to stand up, and Ron smiled and gave me a big hug. He hadn't tossed the paddle aside, and used the opportunity to administer a few extra taps on my throbbing bottom. I jumped away, then laughed.

"I enjoyed that."

"Good. How about another round of each?"

"No, that's okay. Maybe next time."

Ron and I both thoroughly enjoyed this special session, and he has promised we would do it again soon. For the next time, I asked him to use a completely different selection of implements. Yes, we have that many!

I can't wait. 

Bargain Implements

You never know what you might find in a thrift shop. I can never resist a bargain!

Spanked to Tears

Don't let the title of this post worry you or make you scratch your head in disbelief. It's not what you think.

I've already told you what happened before and after. Now here's the story of the best spanking I've had in recent memory.

I was excited as I climbed the stairs to the bedroom, but when I got there and saw the paddle that Ron had chosen lying on the bed, my anticipation turned to dread. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. It was awfully thick. But I didn't have long to ponder my fate; I heard footsteps in the hall. Quickly I put the paddle down and proceeded to slip off my jeans and panties.

When Ron came in I stood up and waited for instructions. They weren't long in coming.

"Bend over," Ron picked up the paddle and gestured to the end of the bed.

I obeyed and felt the smooth paddle caress my bottom. Ron seemed in a chatty mood, which was unusual but very nice. He expounded on the benefits of his chosen implement as he applied it to my cheeks. My exclamations of distress were liberally punctuated with laughter. He was having fun and so was I.

"You're turning a nice shade of pink," Ron observed after a few minutes of effort.

"Ouch! And what colour are you aiming for?"

"Purple."

"Ow!"

Ron continued, but several swats landed with a dull thud instead of a sharp crack. Misfires. I laughed and asked, "What are you aiming at?"

"Quiet!" Ron startled me with the command.

"What? You don't want this to be interactive?" I giggled.

"No. You're too noisy. I want to be able to hear the whacks."

I tried to be quiet, and stuffed a corner of the bedsheet into my mouth. It worked, but then Ron sabotaged my efforts at silence. In between swats to my bottom he gently tapped the back of my head with the implement. Then he escalated the attack by tickling my tummy with the edge of the paddle. It was no use. I laughed until the tears rolled down my cheeks. As I dried them with the sheet I thought, I'm being spanked to tears - tears of laughter!

Ron stopped for a break, and as he rubbed my bottom he complained, "I bent the paddle."

"Turn it over and use the other side to straighten it out."

He did, and reported that it seemed to have worked.




The two sides of the paddle are different, although not exactly like the ones in the above picture. The back has a raised pattern of vines and foliage on it.

"Are you making leafprints on my bum?"

"The leaves are falling off. There are twigs all over the bed."

Again I chuckled as I squirmed and squeaked. Finally, we were both exhausted from laughing, and Ron called a halt to the fun.

"Get up. That's all for this time."

I reached for a tissue to dry my face, then headed to the mirror to check my mascara. As I turned and inspected the reflection of my bare bottom, I praised my husband for a job well done and confirmed what he already knew.

"It really is purple."

Permission Granted

Ron and I were discussing the fast-approaching holiday season, and as usual he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I grinned suggestively, and it took him no time at all to realize what was on my mind. I forget his exact words, but he replied something about knowing that I would probably buy him something that he could use on me.

So there you have it - permission to shop for spanking goodies. I must explain that whenever I mention to Ron that I'd like to buy something, do something or go somewhere, his usual words are "permission granted", even though I didn't exactly ask his permission. He didn't use those actual words this time, but I figure he expects me to do some kinky shopping.

Let's see, maybe I'll try Leatherthorne Paddles


There's a certain rose paddle I've always wanted.


Then again, I could check out Spankinc


This paddle looks pretty effective too.


I'll be sure to visit Cane-iac


This might be the time to think about getting a cane

Or a flogger.


I always enjoy browsing at Horse Tack Co


We could use a new riding crop.


But since we're Canadians, I'll stop by London Tanners


for a peek at their Canadian prison strap.



I'll let you know what I decide Ron would like for Christmas.

Our National Paddle

In my Canada Day post I displayed an assortment of dishes that are uniquely Canadian, but as a reader pointed out, I omitted one treat that is synonymous with Canada - the beavertail.

This yummy delight comes in two forms. The first is a delicious, sweet pastry, similar to a yeast doughnut, deep-fried and topped with sugar.


When President Obama visited Canada recently, he went in search of this delicacy, and to his delight, was able to sample the American version - an Obamatail.



The second and less common form is the actual tail of Canada's official animal, simmered till tender, then peeled and eaten. (Sorry, no photo available.)


Why all this talk about beavertails? Look at the shape of the tail below. Isn't it a perfect spanking implement, minus the attached rodent?