The gods are displeased

Last weekend we were nearly interrupted again during our spanking fun. Ron was using his favourite wooden shoehorn, alternating with a large wooden spoon, and I was just over the initial shock of the assault to my posterior. When he switched to one of the leather paddles, I breathed a sigh of relief and settled in to enjoy the thwack of skin on skin.

All of a sudden we heard a rumbling noise. The lamps on the bedside tables shook. What was that? A heavy truck passing through our neighbourhood? Earth-movign equipment? Not likely on a Sunday afternoon. A low-flying plane? Thunder? An earthquake?

We waited, poised for flight. No further rumblings happened, the lights stayed on, and we decided there was nothing to worry about.

"The spanking gods are angry," Ron surmised.

I laughed. "Then what can we do to appease them?" I asked.

"I can think of something." Ron illustrated his point with the shoehorn on my bottom.

"That ought to satisfy them, but let's make sure," I agreed.

Right on Target

 

Target, the American discount department store chain, has finally come to Canada. In the past year, stores have opened in several major cities across the country. They offer an amazing assortment of merchandise, good service and excellent quality. The only downside is price. Cross-border shoppers have been disappointed to find that prices are much higher in Canadian stores than in their American counterparts for the same emrchandise.

What has this got to do with spanking? The iconic Target logo is now a common sight in the weekly newspaper flyers, so the concept of a bare bottom being a target for a spanker's hand is a logical association.

Ron's implement of choice for a recent spanking was one of his favourites: the wooden shoehorn.

It's loud, it stings like the dickens, and I have a love/hate relationship with it. Ron started out with noisy whacks on my bottom, alternating left and right. Then he changed his approach and brought the wooden beast down across both cheeks at once. The rhythm altered as he applied two smacks to my reddening posterior, followed by one stroke across the tops of my thighs.

If there's one thing I hate more than the shoehorn on my bottom, it's the shoehorn on the tops of my thighs. I squealed and voiced my displeasure.

"Hey! You're outside the target area!" I complained. "You're missing my bum completely."

Ron ignored me and carried on with his up up down rhythm. I tried again.

"What's the matter, did you forget to put on your glasses? Do I need to draw a target down there?"

"No smart-ass remarks," Ron warned, and suddenly a flurry of hard swats landed on my thighs. Yikes! Bratting suddenly seemed ill-advised. I think he's found my Achille's heel.

What's your favourite?

Last week Ronnie invited all Tops to submit a review of their favourite spanking implement. I thought it would be fun to ask Ron about his weapon of choice and then pass along his review.

When I posed the question, Ron paused for a moment or two then replied, "the shoehorn."

"Really? That's interesting. Why?" I glanced around, looking for pen and paper so I could jot down his thoughts.

"Dunno," was his succinct reply.

"What is there about it that makes it your favourite?" I persisted.

"Dunno." It was obvious that the subject was closed. I wouldn't be needing that pen and paper after all.


This trusty implement was the subject of one of my earliest posts. Sorry Ronnie, I can't send you an official review, but he likes it well enough to use it fairly frequently, it makes a lot of noise, and it stings like the dickens!

Friday FAIL

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


I would never consider allowing a metal implement to be used on me. Here are a few implements that should remain unperverted.


Wintersong Holiday Rosette Set
Rediscover old-fashioned Swedish rosettes and treat your family to light, crispy cookies dusted with powdered sugar—just like Grandma’s! Set includes aluminum snowflake and tree forms, with wooden handle for dipping in hot oil.

Very pretty and seasonal, and I'm sure powdered sugar would add the right hint of decadence, but hot oil? Never!





Extra Long Shoe Horn
This very long shoehorn eliminates the need for bending. It’s made of strong stainless steel and is very lightweight. 1-piece construction, nothing to maneuver or assemble.

I like shoehorns, but the idea of metal turns me right off. I'm glad the poor spanker doesn't have to bend to use it, though.




Jumbo Paper Clips
Measuring a full 4" long, these super-sized clips take on big jobs around your home or office. Great for organizing bills, notes, stray papers, and mail, they work like standard paper clips-only better! For added convenience, hang them for wall, fridge, or bulletin board.

Not a bad idea at all. Hanging your spanking implements on the fridge, I mean. Keep those bottoms organized.

Spanko Shopping Again

I was browsing for Christmas gifts last week, when I found myself in a store with some very interesting and unusual items. Not only was I able to pick up some presents for the people on my list, but my imagination ran wild when I saw these attractive spanking implements. I think the other shoppers were too busy to notice my blushes.


Shoehorns are always useful. This one seems to enjoy his work.



These cute flyswatters are so decorative! Very rigid, too. I pity the poor fly that gets in the way of one of these.


A heart for Hermione. How appropriate! I can't see using this for cooking or baking. Can you?

These would all make wonderful gifts that keep on giving, for the spanko in your life.

Short but Sweet

In my last post I told you that Ron's mission was to find a substitute for the ineffective paint stirrer. The man outdid himself.
He didn't warn me in advance, so when I walked into the bedroom one evening, I was prepared for a spanking but not for what I saw. Hanging from the iron rail at the head of the bed was a bamboo shoehorn, similar to the one at the top of this post. It had hung on the wall in Ron's study for years and I had never given it much thought, but now it had tremendous significance. I can honestly say that I have never had such a strong reaction to an implement as I did that day. My stomach did a major flip-flop and I felt an emotion best described as fear mingled with excitement.
I looked at Ron and said, "I guess I'm in for it" in a small voice.
"You sure are," was all he said.
And I sure was.
It wasn't so bad the first time. Ron used the shoehorn end like a little paddle on my bottom, and it had quite a sting. But after a few whacks on each cheek, the end broke off!
"You broke my shoehorn!" wailed Ron.
I thought he probably had something to do with it but didn't comment. I giggled, which earned me several hard hand spanks.
The broken implement hung above the bed, and each time I entered the room I felt a thrill of anticipation mixed with dread. I wondered what would happen at my next encounter with it.
I soon found out. Ron used it like a cane, striking me across both buttocks at once. Each stroke burned like fire, made worse because we had not yet learned about warmups. He didn't give me very many but each one made me gasp "Ow". I was so relieved when he hung up the wretched thing and turned his attention to consoling me in the very nicest possible way.
The marks that appeared on my bottom the next day fascinated me. There were several on each cheek, caused by the knots in the cane, and I was so proud of them. Ron saw them too and was not as thrilled as I was. They turned me on but had the opposite effect on him. He was horrified by what he had done to me, and resolved it wouldn't happen again. He removed the shoehorn from the bedroom, glued the end back on, and returned it to its former location and function.
We have since discovered many implements that do just as good a job, or even better. But I still miss the thrill of walking into the room and seeing that shoehorn hanging there, waiting for me.

The Shoehorn Contest Reconsidered

You may recall the contest in April to translate the message on the wooden shoehorn pictured above and to guess the language.

I have recently heard from a reader in Norway, who writes:

As a Norwegian I'm sorry to say you have awarded the wrong winner of your contest. The text written on the shoehorn "Den vet best hvor skoen trykker, som har den på" is for sure Norwegian. The translation to English will be like this: The one who wears the shoe is the one who knows best where it is squeezing (the toes).

Bonnie (via Google) is not much to blame for the mistake because Norwegian and Danish are very closely related languages. It’s just one letter in the second word in the text that clearly identifies it to be Norwegian and not Danish.

In Danish it most probably will be written like this: "Den ved best hvor skoen trykker, der har den på". I'm not sure but I think it will be possible also in Danish to use "som" instead of "der" after the comma. So it's the use of the letter t instead of a d in the second word that identifies it for me to be Norwegian and not Danish.

So Mr. Betula the Viking has to judge that Karl Friedrich Gauss is the real winner of the contest, but that Hermione has one of nicest blogs he has seen on the web.

A big thank you to Mr. Betula for the translation and explanation, as well as his kind words about my blog. He has also provided a link to an interesting website that describes the painting technique. I'm convinced!

So Karl Friedrich Gauss guessed the language correctly, and is awarded 2 swats to give to the lucky bottom of his choice.

Mr. Betula wins five spanks for his translation, and I hope he visits again.

RPT and Bonnie have, I presume, already enjoyed their prizes, and unfortunately spankings are not returnable, so I'm not going to ask for them back.

Spanko Shopping

Ron and I shop for groceries together every weekend. He likes to accompany me, mainly to make sure I don't slip too many low-fat, high-fibre, low-sodium or otherwise healthy goodies into the shopping cart.

On a recent excursion we were in a playful mood; we were both thinking about the upcoming spanking that is also part of our weekend routine. Our minds were very much on that subject as we took a shortcut through the health and beauty department.

Along each aisle were small signs at regular intervals indicating the type of merchandise available. At the head of one aisle I saw a sign for Implements. I had to check that one out. Sure enough, there were the hairbrushes! Dozens of them in various shapes and sizes. I wanted to linger, but Ron reminded me we didn't use the one we had often enough.

Next, we detoured through the assistive devices. We passed crutches, neck and wrist braces, and other assorted paraphernalia, then Ron suddenly pointed to a display and said, "Look!" I looked, and saw an exquisite collection of long, highly-polished rosewood shoehorns.


"Beautiful," I murmured as I caressed one. "This is what I want for Christmas." I seem to have a thing for shoehorns.


At the checkout, we had a small difference of opinion over a magazine on display. Ron, who always has the final word on such matters, said, "You don't need that magazine."

As he pushed the cart past me, I replied, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, "No Sir."

I rarely call him Sir when we are out in public, but I was feeling quite reckless by then. Our eyes met, Ron smiled slightly, and I could tell that his thoughts at that moment were very clearly along the lines of "wait till we get home" in the best possible way.

To pay for our groceries I brought out a brand-new credit card that has a time-saving feature. Instead of swiping the card through a slot, you just tap it against a special plate.

So I tapped the corner gently. Nothing happened.

"Try again," the cashier advised. I did. Still nothing.

"May I?" The cashier took my card, gave it a sound whack against the plate, and handed it back. "You have to smack it."

Smack it? I glanced at Ron with my eyes wide. He grinned.

"Ooh, can you do that again?"

"Only if you want to pay twice." Right.

I can't wait to come back next week," I giggled as I waited for my receipt. Now I really didn't dare look at my husband. I was losing it, fast! "Sorry, I don't get out much!"

I signed the slip, waved good-bye and joined Ron beside the cart.

"So you spanked your MasterCard," he teased.

We laughed all the way to the car, and headed home.

A Contest

Look what I found while I was wandering through my favourite spanking toy thrift shop. It's just begging to be used on a bared bottom.
I don't know what's written on this lovely shoehorn, but I assume it has something to do with administering discipline. Maybe a warning about the consequences of bad behaviour?
I invite you all to suggest what you think it says. (Click on the image to make it bigger.) I'll submit the results to my panel of spanko experts, and let them vote on the best interpretation.

The winner will give or receive - depending on personal preference - ten whacks with this beautiful implement.

As an additional challenge, if you can identify the language, you'll win two swats.

If you can supply a translation of what it actually says, you'll get (or give) five of the best.
The results will be posted early next week. Good luck, everyone!