Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for October 13

What are you thankful for?

Roz: Wow, congratulations on 300 brunches, that is some milestone!

Happy Thanksgiving to you and Ron, I hope you have a wonderful time and enjoy the celebrations. I am thankful for the support of wonderful friends and family and am especially thankful to be having a family brunch today to celebrate our Father's birthday and that a new addition to the family is due to arrive any day.

Bernie: ... for a very close friendship that has developed over the last year. I'm looked at, in a sense, as the brother she never had. It's doubtful that we'll ever have an intimate relationship, but that's ok. We make each other happy.

Bonnie: Congratulations, Hermione, on 300 brunches. I have an appreciation for all that goes into making this event happen week in and week out. I am thankful that you were able to continue this tradition and carry it to new heights.

I am thankful for our community and this worldwide internet for providing places to meet friends and share my spanko thoughts. I've now been posting stories, essays, and chatter in various spanking-oriented locales for more then twenty years. In that time, I've talked with literally thousands of people who share this link. Who could have imagined? Not me!

Finally, I am thankful for the life my husband and I share. He warms my bottom, but he also warms my heart.

Terpsichore: Congratulations on 300 brunches! :-) I am thankful for the love of family and friends, for the gift of time, and for a community of welcoming friends from all over and a place where I can truly be me. Hope you have a wonderful thanksgiving!

Barrel: 300 brunches, and healthy ones, too! Congratulations and thank you for all you do. You are in inspiration.

I am thankful for God and this wonderous world in which we live.

While there are many other items for which I am grateful, I am thankful for health and my family, especially my wife of 41 years and the love we share.

Wendel Jones: Congrats Hermione on the big 300.
I am thankful for The Misses. She is my angel.

Liza: Congratulations on the 300 brunches. I always look forward to reading them.
I'm thankful for my husband, family and friends.
Happy Thanksgiving to our wonderful neighbors to the north.

Windy: Congratulations, H, on your 300th Brunch! Right here on your blog was where I posted my very first comment.... it might seem silly, but it was an important first step for me. I have met some really great people in blog land and I hold a few of them very close to my heart now. Thank you for being a blog of solidity.

Ronnie: Happy Thanksgiving and Congratulations on your 300th Spanko brunch.

There are so many I am thankful for. Our health, this community and the friends I've made through it. I never thought that could happen.

Thankful for the loving spanko relationship I have and for our beautiful granddaughter.

Prefectdt: Congratulations on your Brunchaversary.

A bit corny but I am thankful for those rare moments, when there are no deadlines and all the daily jobs are done, when you can relax, let your mind wonder and ponder things in life that are worth thinking about (I warned you that it was corny :) ).

Hermione: I am thankful that Ron and I are in good health, and hope that continues for a long time. I am also thankful for this community, where we can talk about subjects that outsiders would feel are taboo.

I am thankful that I have so many faithful readers who join us at our weekly brunches.

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #300

Today we celebrate two special events. One is a very important milestone. This is the 300th brunch that I have held since I took it over from our good friend Bonnie. The second is Thanksgiving, which we Canadians celebrate on this long weekend. Since our climate is much colder than that of our neighbours to the south, our harvest season occurs a full month earlier, and so does our celebration of thankfulness for the bounty the earth provides. So I invite you all to join us in some thoughtful reflection.

What are you thankful for this year?

Leave your response as a comment, and once the harvest feast is over and the dishes are done, I will publish an edited summary of our discussion.

From the Top Shelf - Adorable Little Amy

Today’s story is from Rollin Hand's blog where it was reprinted from the ebook Willow Wood Estate by Madeline Smythe, and it involves age play. In age-play scenarios, someone is reduced to child-like status. This may include the wearing of juvenile clothing, living in a nursery, a forced hygiene regimen, and of course, spankings.  I'm not a fan of age play, but the spanking in this story makes it worth reading.

To set the stage, our protagonist Amy has taken up employment with Athena, a rich and powerful woman, to catalog the holdings of a remote country estate Athena has inherited. In the course of her employment Amy has observed some odd behaviors at Willow Wood estate and her curiosity is about to get her in over her head.

As the car approached, Amy could see that there was a driver and a passenger. It pulled up in the long circular driveway and came to a stop by the door. A tall and rather solid looking red haired woman wearing what appeared to be a chauffeur’s uniform emerged from the driver’s seat. She opened the passenger door and Athena got out. The chauffer handled various shopping bags and followed behind Athena as she strode through the front door. Amy had scurried back to the library. Although curious, she wanted to be seen as working when Athena arrived. She was not so confident of their relationship that she should assume special treatment. Athena was still her employer. And lately she’d fallen behind, too enthralled with Calvin’s erotica collection to be very efficient.

But Athena paused and saw her through the open library door.

“Amy, please come and meet Paulette.” The redhead tilted her head and smiled as if amused by the look on Amy’s face which was obviously a reaction to Paulette’s odd attire.

“Paulette is a special friend of mine. She is here for the gathering tomorrow.” When Athena saw Amy’s confused look she added, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Some friends of mine are gathering here in a few days for an event. It is an annual convocation. And, I want you to be included. Here, I bought you something special to wear for the first evening of the convocation, a dinner party.” Athena handed her a box.

Amy gulped. “For me? I didn’t know about a party. Why?”

Athena put her palm on Amy’s face and looked into her eyes. “Because, my sweet girl, I want to show you off.”

“Thank you, Athena,” said Amy. Then a part of her wondered—what kind of event would this be exactly? The strangeness was becoming more and more apparent. First, there was Athena and her students. Then Calvin. Then Witch Hollow and the willows. Now here was Paulette, a voluptuous woman in an odd role.

Athena smiled like an indulgent aunt. “Now, go try it on. I want to see you.”

Amy smiled, enthused now that she’d been given a present. “All right,” she said brightly, and proceeded to go change.

“We’ll be in my studio,” Athena called after her.

In her room, Amy opened the box. Inside was what appeared to be a white frock with blue piping. Her eyes widened in disbelief. It was some sort of little girl’s frock. It was almost like a sailor suit, with puffy sleeves and a wide blue trimmed collar. She sighed and put it on. The skirt was short, really short. There were also black shoes and white ankle socks. She looked at herself in the mirror. The outfit made her look like she was twelve. She couldn’t wear this ridiculous thing. Still, Athena had given it to her. She decided to confront her about it.

Athena stood by the window explaining something to Paulette. It was so strange. Paulette wore a coat and black trousers, almost like a man’s. She also wore a little cap, just like a chauffeur. But the figure inside the trousers did not belong to any man. She had on a white shirt, too, and her rather full breasts left no doubt as to the gender of the red haired “chauffeur”. They spoke casually to each other. It was as if she were merely playing the role of a servant of some type; she seemed more like a friend to Athena than an employee.

Amy strode purposefully into the room and stopped in the middle to address Athena. “I can’t wear this! I look ridiculous.” Paulette smiled and raised her eyebrows as Athena turned. She looked Amy up and down, appraising her.

“You like absolutely perfect, Amy. Wouldn’t you say so Paulette?”

“Why yes, I would. Who is she, your teenage niece?” Paulette stifled a chuckle.

Amy pursed her lips and frowned at Paulette. “I’m not wearing this to your….your party. It’s embarrassing.”

“Amy, let’s not be petulant, dear. You are so very cute and adorable. They’re going to fawn all over you, won’t they Paulette?”

Paulette nodded. “Very cute,” she said.

“I don’t care,” said Amy. She stamped her foot without realizing that that probably made her look like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’m not wearing it!”

Athena scrunched her lips. “I see. Amy, do you know Paulette’s role with my friends?” Amy shook her head. “Paulette is very special. You see, she is the sergeant-at-arms for my little club. She is very skilled at what she does.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked a frustrated Amy.

“Only this, Amy. If you continue to behave like a petulant child I may have Paulette demonstrate her considerable skill for your benefit,” said Athena smoothly.

Paulette smiled broadly, as if she would like nothing better. She took off her jacket. She put her cap on top of it. When the cap came off, she shook her long mane of flowing red hair. Amy gulped, suddenly intimidated. Paulette was taller than her by at least six inches and outweighed her by forty pounds. But why should that matter?

“I can’t wear this,” Amy persisted. “I’m not a child. But it makes me look like one.”

“Are you so determined to disobey me, Amy?” Athena turned to Paulette and what she said shocked Amy to her core.

 “Spank her soundly and put her on display in the corner. I’ll be back in few minutes.”

Amy couldn’t believe her ears. The shock of that casual statement sent a cold chill up Amy’s spine. She looked at Paulette whose lips were curled up in a thin smile. “What? Athena?” But Athena had left, shutting the door behind her.

“You heard Aunty Athena,” said Paulette, grinning broadly as she approached the girl.

Amy was frozen to the spot. This was not happening. It all came on so swiftly. The next thing she knew, Paulette had grasped her wrist and was pulling her along, headed for an armless chair that stood out from the wall.

“Oh! Let me go!” Amy squealed, but the larger woman handled her easily. She sat down and swept Amy across her knees with what seemed like no effort at all. Amy felt an arm clamp her back, pinioning her helplessly across Paulette’s sturdy thighs. Her frock was raised in back. All she had on underneath were plain white panties. She gasped in shame as even these, her last vestige of modesty, were slipped down, baring her bottom. The tiny panties fluttered at her knee hollows impeding her ability to kick her legs. For a moment all she felt was a cool breeze. Then smack! smack! smack! smack! Paulette’s palm landed on her nude bottom cheeks delivering crisp authoritative spanks that made her screech.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” she yelled. This really stung. The woman had a hand like a paddle. This was no erotic idyll. Amy was getting an authentic spanking.

For the next several minutes and without interruption, the walls of the studio echoed with the sounds of meaty smacks being applied to Amy’s bare bottom. The impacts made her teeth rattle and the sting was unrelenting. Each explosive smack was a searing burn. Amy thought to herself the same thing thought by naughty girls since time immemorial—Stop! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!

Amy wriggled and bucked. She put her hand back to shield her bottom. Paulette just laughed and grabbed it, pinioning her wrist to her back. “No, no, no, little girl. Athena said ‘a sound spanking’ and that’s what you get,” she laughed. “This little fanny is going to be well warmed by the time I’m done.” The spanking increased in tempo as Paulette spanked hard and fast. The cute bottom cheeks rippled and quivered with the repeated impacts of Paulette’s hand.

“Yow! Yow!” Amy squealed. She was now practically beside herself from the overwhelming burn visited on her backside by Paulette’s unrelenting hand . Her eyes flooded with tears. She was drooling. “Ah…ah…ahhh!” she bleated, all to no avail.

“Now, little miss, will you behave?” Smack! Smack! Smack! These spanks were slower but even harder.

“Yes! Yes! Oh, please stop!”

“And you will wear the frock Athena bought for you?” Smack! Whap! Crack! The big woman’s palm stung atrociously.

“Yes! I will wear it! Yes!” Anything to make it stop!

“Then you may rise,” said Paulette, lifting her up and placing Amy on her feet. Amy started to pull her panties back up. “Uh, uh,” said Paulette. “Leave those down. Over to the corner with you.” She pointed to a far corner.

Amy managed to shuffle over to the corner.

“Face the corner and lift your skirt,” commanded Paulette. “Do not rub yourself. Stay that way.”

This was the worst yet. Horribly embarrassed and shamed, Amy lifted the skirt to expose her bottom, which she imagined must be beet red, and faced the wall like some disgraced schoolgirl. Her bottom burned. It was positively throbbing. She longed to rub it, to alleviate the awful sting. The other spankings now seemed like playful encounters. Amy heard her walk out, but was too emotionally drained to do anything but stand obediently in the corner, like some recalcitrant child, now duly reprimanded. It was utterly humiliating.

But as the heat in her bottom began to subside, she felt that familiar tingle of arousal. Somehow the shame began to feel delicious. How could that be? The sting subsided to a glow that was almost sensuous. Still, she waited in silence. Minutes went by.

A sudden sound made her turn her head. It was Athena.

“There, you naughty girl. Will you behave now? I see that Paulette has done a thorough job on your naughty backside.” Athena regarded her, standing there with her arms folded, shaking her head back and forth.

Amy did not know what to think. She was a conflicted mess of emotions. She just nodded, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

“Come then,” said Athena, holding out her hand. “Let’s get some cold cream for that bottom.”

You can probably guess what happened next.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for October 6

Do you have a love/hate relationship with one particular implement?

Anon 1: The cane! It the most intense implement we own. It will leave marks and it will sometimes break the skin. It can make you want to jump out of your skin at times. However, the endorphin release it creates is so great and unmatched by any other implement it makes it so worth it.

Roz: Ha, I think I have a love/hate relationship with all our implements lol. It depends on how they are used. They can either leave a nice sting or really pack a punch.

Jack: Bath Brush, more hate than love, it has a lasting affect.

Simon: I love canes, I like the noise they make both travelling through the air and when they impact with my usually bare skin. I like the intense feeling when they strike and the lovely marks they leave. For me nothing is more enjoyably painful than a cane in the hands of a skilled lady.

Anon 2: A paddle made of Lexan which was a gift to C for her birthday. It is a quarter of an inch thick with one inch holes nicely spaced. It stings like a nest of hornets yet brings a wonderful response from the victim. We both hate it but still like it.

Prefectdt: I have a white synthetic cane, I hate it but I am so fascinated by my ability to endure it that I cannot bring myself to throw it away.

Barrel: Absolutely the thin, white delrin cane. When administered with vigor, it can wrap around to the sides of each cheek with a branding effect. Yet I crave it. We also have a small, hard plastic paddle that is vicious. When I bought it, the sales lady smiled and told me it was the “bane” of her. So I know I am not alone in respecting it.

Yorkie: Actually, no. I love them all!

Ronnie: For me the cane. I love it more than hate it. Depends on how it's used.

Hermione: I had to think about this one because we have a few implements that I love unconditionally, and a few that I hate with a passion. The one implement that I both love and hate is the rattan carpet beater. It's very stingy but not too severe, and I love the swishy sound it makes. Sadly, it is also prone to breaking, so we don't use it very often.

That discussion heated up the room nicely!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #299

We are into October now and frost is around the corner, so we'd better eat up all the ripe watermelon before the vines wither. While we're munching, let's consider this question.

Do you have a love/hate relationship with a particular implement? If so, tell us all about it.

Please leave your response as a comment, and once everyone has spoken I will publish an edited summary of our conversation.

An October Meme

This one 's from PK via Ronnie - How well do you know your significant other?

Name a food he won’t eat?
Anything a tiny bit spoiled or squishy or moldy.

You go out to eat; what would he drink?
Beer if it's lunchtime, and red wine if it's a dinner out.

What’s one thing you do that just about guarantees you’re getting a spanking?
Saturday, 4:30.

What is his nickname for you?
He doesn't have one, and doesn't use my name either.

What is something he likes to do?
Check the weather on the iPad.

What is his favourite store?
Amazon.com

When he is on the phone, who is he talking to?
His son.

What are his favourite shows?
His all-time favourites are The Wonder Years, Breaking Bad and Cheers. Current shows are 48 hours, Dateline and How it Really Happened.

What’s his favourite implement?
The long red shoehorn.

What would he never wear?
Shorts, because he thinks his legs are too skinny.

What’s his favourite food?
Coddled eggs for breakfast, BLT for lunch, and steak for dinner.

If you could change one thing about your significant other, large or small, what would it be?
I wish he would speak in a normal tone of voice and not mumble, so I wouldn't have to ask him to repeat everything he says.

What is his favourite sport?
American football.

What is something that you do that he wishes you didn’t?
He doesn't like it when I hum a tune I've just heard (which is pretty much all day long).

What could he do all day long and not get bored?
Read or watch CNN.

How does he like his coffee?
Strong with little milk.

How long have you been together?
36 years.

What is your perfect world for yourself and your relationship ten years from now?
I hope things would be exactly the same, with both of us in good health.

From the Top Shelf- Rebecca Remembered (F/M)

If you're into F/M spanking, or even if you're not, you're going to love this week's story. It comes to us courtesy of the late Rollin Hand's blog, and was written by "Pete" in the early days of message boards. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Rebecca Remembered

By Pete

It was in the Summer of ’65, Charlie and Becky had just become formally engaged. His parents had thrown them a gala reception to celebrate the event, and to let all of the family meet Becky.

Becky had been standing next to Charlie, idly chatting with a couple of second cousins, when they were approached by a vivacious and lovely blonde. They had looked at each other appraisingly for a moment, because they looked so much alike, they could have been sisters. The same shoulder length, softly bobbed blonde hair… both about 5' 6" and 115 pounds, both with long trim legs and a nicely rounded figure.

“Hi!” The newcomer hailed warmly, “you must be Becky, I’m Jeanne, Charlie’s Aunt.”

“His Aunt? But you’re so… ” she had blurted, surprised because Jeanne could not have been much more than 30.

Jeanne laughed, “yeah, I was kind of a surprising accident. Charlie’s Mom was 18 when I was born. How do you like your new family-to-be?”

“Oh, they all seem very nice.” Becky said sincerely.

“Well, I hope you can handle Charlie – he can be a handful.”

“I know what you mean!” Becky laughed, wondering why Charlie was suddenly becoming very flustered.

“Yes,” Jeanne went on, “he stayed with me when he had a job on the Cape. We live in Marion, just over the bridge. I’ll never forget. The first week he was there, I heard this awful din in the kitchen and went in to find Charlie and my 12 year old brat Jenny having a food fight! I’m an old-fashioned style mother, so I just scooped up a handy wooden butter paddle, turned Jenny over my knee, yanked down her shorts and whaled the living daylights out of her bare bottom. I could tell Charlie was shocked, ’cause he just stood there with his jaw hanging down to his knees. By the time I’d finished with Jenny she was howling like a banshee, and when I let her up she just grabbed her bottom and scooted off to her room, still crying up a storm.

I really hadn’t thought about it, but Charlie was just standing there looking guilty as hell, so I pointed to my lap and said, ‘your turn.’ He blushed a lot, but did shuffle over to where I was sitting, so I took his pants down, turned him over my knee and spanked his bare botty ’til it was blistered and he was howling every bit as loudly as Jenny had. Then, when he got into some more mischief a few days later, it just seemed like the most natural thing in the world to take him into my bedroom and wallop his bare bottom with my hairbrush. I must’ve spanked him 20 times or so that summer… and he deserved every single one of them! Didn’t you Charlie?”

“Yeah, well, I guess so,” Charlie muttered uncomfortably.

“Wait a minute!” Becky said, “Charlie worked on the Cape last summer.”

“Of course!” Jeanne replied, smiling broadly, “that’s when it happened.”

“You spanked Charlie last summer? On his bare bottom? When he was 21?” Becky queried in astonishment.

“Of course. And it really helped to keep him in line. if I were you, Becky, I’d go right out and get myself a good, sturdy hairbrush. Then, the first time Charlie pulled one of his boyishly charming capers, I’d let him have it – right where it hurts the most. Take it from me, Becky, Charlie really needs it!”

Becky paused to let all this sink in, then turned to her blushing fiance, smiling slyly. “Tell me, Charlie, what do you think? Do you think I should buy myself a good, sturdy hairbrush? And use it the way Aunt Jeanne did?”

“Of course not, Becky. I mean, you’re gonna be my wife, not my Aunt.” He did not sound convincing. This was becoming very interesting. Becky found herself envying Aunt Jeanne.

“What difference does that make?” she told him haughtily, “you are a terribly naughty boy sometimes and maybe a few good, sound spankings on your cute little fanny would help. Aunt Jeanne thinks so. Don’t you Aunt Jeanne?” Becky turned back to this interesting woman, who was grinning broadly at her nephew’s obvious discomfort.

“Absolutely! Don’t you feel those spankings I gave you last summer helped you to behave yourself, Charlie? Don’t you?” Aunt Jeanne prodded.

“Well, yeah, I suppose so. But it’s not the same!” Charlie almost wailed.

“Humbug!” Becky told him firmly. “I think it would be a nice gesture if you bought me the right kind of hairbrush. You should know what you need. You can give it to me for our engagement. Then, I’ll give you a nice spanking with it. That sounds fair. There!” She turned back to Aunt Jeanne, “it’s all settled.”

“Sounds like you’re really in for it, Charlie!” Aunt Jeanne laughed. “But don’t look so glum. Come on, admit it. You really didn’t mind all those spankings I gave you, did you?”

“Hey! They hurt! A lot!” He protested. Not, Becky noticed, answering the question.

“Of course they did!” Exclaimed Aunt Jeanne, “they were supposed to. But I did kind of notice that you seemed to get, well, kind of excited, too. Didn’t you?”

“HELL NO!” Charlie protested hotly.

Becky looked at him appraisingly. “Methinks he protesteth too much,” she thought. She made a mental note to have a private chat with Aunt Jeanne later, and went on to mingle with her other new-found relatives. That evening, Jeanne and Becky took a leisurely stroll through the woods.

“I am serious, Becky,” Jeanne said. “Charlie did get kinda turned on by the spankings. It’s not something a man can hide very well. And I got the feeling that, on several occasions, he was really trying to get me to spank him. I was only too happy to oblige. I thought it was fun! You really ought to pursue it. I think some shared kinky secrets are good for a marriage.”

“Do you spank George?” Becky asked her sweetly.

“Heavens NO!” Jeanne laughed, “but ve haf other vays… ”

“Like what?” Becky pursued.

“Well… promise not to tell anyone?” Becky nodded. “OK, well, er, I uh sit on him.”

“Sit on him?” Becky repeated, not terribly impressed.

“Well,” Jeanne giggled, “it’s on his face. But, back to Charlie. I’ll bet you 5 bucks he buys you a hairbrush.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I wish it would be that easy. No, I’m afraid I’m going to have to push it.”

“Then it’s a bet?”

“You’re on!” Becky told her, and shook Jeanne’s hand.

The next afternoon, of course, Becky found a gaily wrapped package on her pillow. “Happy Engagement! All my love, Charlie,” the card proclaimed. Inside was a very expensive, very solid, wooden hairbrush. She smacked it smartly against her palm. It stung! She put it in her handbag. Before dinner she surreptitiously slipped Jeanne $5. Jeanne winked knowingly. After dinner, Charlie and Becky strolled down to the secluded boathouse… a favorite necking spot of theirs.

“Thanks for the engagement gift,” she told him slyly as they sat side by side on the long padded bench.

“Oh, er uh sure. Well, you’re welcome.” He stammered.

“Are you ready for my gift?”

“Uh, gee Becky, you mean now?” He blurted.

“No time like the present. A stitch in time. Never put off ’til tomorrow. Come on, Charlie, you’ve got nothing to lose but your pants.” Not giving him time to argue, she bent toward him and quickly undid his belt and opened his fly, her fingers flicking over the telltale bulge thus revealed. “OK, Charlie, get up.”

Although it was dark in the boathouse, she could tell he was blushing like crazy. She firmly pulled down his slacks, then reached up and yanked down his shorts. Embarrassed, he kind of hunched over to shield himself. While he was off balance, she gave his elbow a quick tug and he toppled forward over her lap. Once over, he seemed to resign himself to his fate, and made no attempt to escape. “So far, so good,” she thought to herself as she lightly patted the two plump mounds of pale flesh that peeped up at me so enticingly in the moonlight. Charlie squirmed a bit at this, and she could feel his “thing” pressing between her naked thighs. “Keep your eye on the ball,” she told herself. Then told Charlie, “hand me my handbag, please, Honey.” He groped in the dark, then wordlessly handed it back. She removed her brand new hairbrush, then moved its bristled side testingly over his quaking cheeks. He shivered, either in torment or delight, she couldn’t tell which.

It was at this time that she began to have an anxiety attack. After all, not only had she never spanked anyone before, she had never even been spanked herself! Still admiring Charlie’s delightfully animated derriere, she carefully reviewed Jeanne’s instructions… she almost regretted not taking her up on her “kind” offer of a free home demonstration. “Well,” she thought, “nothing ventured… ”

Becky slipped her left arm around Charlie’s naked waist, and saw his buttocks clench in apprehension. “Relax, Dear,” she told him, “it is just a spanking after all.” He sighed and she watched his buttocks unclench and resume their quiet quivering.

She took a firm grip on the brush, raised it high in the air, and brought it smartly down on the chubby crown of his right cheek. SMACK! The noise was alarming! It scared her half to death. Charlie gasped and twisted, but quickly settled down, meekly proffering his bare behind for further attention. She breathed deeply, recovered her determination, and gave Charlie’s madly dancing derriere a crisp volley that had him grunting and squealing inanely while kicking his legs and squirming all over her lap.

She paused, now feeling in complete command. She ran her hand over his bobbing bottom, amazed at how warm it felt and noting the slight puffiness of each brush-shaped blister. And, they’d hardly begun! The brush continued to splat down, each whack sending a little shock wave through the rippling flesh. Poor Charlie jerked and jounced with every stroke. He kicked and waved his arms. His blazing bottom weaved and wriggled sinuously, but never strayed out of range of her flailing brush.

Charlie began to cry. Becky could see his tears spattering on the rough planks of the boathouse deck, and hear his great, wracking sobs of honest anguish. Had it not been for Jeanne’s meticulous coaching she surely would have stopped, but she recalled the exact words. “Don’t let him fool you, Becky. He’ll howl and wail and sob… even bawl like a baby before you’re halfway through. But, be firm. Give him at least 50 good ones… more if you feel like it. Otherwise it’s just not a spanking. And make sure you cover his whole botty… including the part next to his thighs… that’s where he’ll really feel it when he tries to sit down tomorrow.”

“Whoops!” Becky thought, and paused to inspect the tender undercurve of each blazing cheek. Hardly touched! The next volley smacked into the curved underside of his sit spot. That detail attended to, she moved back up to the fleshy crests, inch by smarting inch. she judged that she had passed the magical 50 mark, and paused again to assess the state of Charlie’s pulsing, throbbing bottom. “There, there, Honey,” she soothed as she pressed her palm first on one cheek and then on the other. They were hot! “Just a couple more for good measure,” she told him, ignoring his abject pleas for mercy. And SMACK! WHACK! She placed two final Homeric stingers at the apex of each flaming buttock.

She helped him up off her lap and then guided him so he perched mournfully on her right thigh. She pressed his teary face against her thinly veiled breasts and crooned comfortingly in his ear as her right hand descended to stroke and soothe his flaming flanks. As her hand wandered around down there, two things became perfectly clear. First, the manful erection he’d pressed against me at the spanking’s onset had totally vanished by its conclusion. Second, it was re-emerging in spectacular fashion now. Spanking appeared to excite Charlie before and after, but definitely not during! This was confirmed as with a combination sob/grunt, Charlie exploded all over her shirt. “Oh Charlie,” she giggled, “I really should spank you for that!”

That had been 20 years ago. 20 years of delightful domination for Becky, superb submission for Charlie. Becky tried to calculate just how many spanks Charlie’s bottom had received. “Let’s see,” she thought, “figure an average of at least one a week… that’s 20 times 52, or about 1,000 spankings at maybe 60 each. WOW! 60,000 SMACKS. And my hairbrush is still as good as new!”

Not that that was the exclusive weapon, of course. Charlie had proven to be an adept scavenger… presenting her with a wide variety of implements for her disciplinary pleasure. The antique whalebone corset stay he had made into a whippy little switch… it just whispered sibilantly as it welted his bare fanny, making it perfect when she had to punish him when company or children were around (though she’d have to gag him with her panties because it made him squeal so loudly). The rattan cane he’d bought her on their last trip to England… and the funny looks they’d gotten from the Customs inspector. The kitschy “Fanny Whacker” he found in a souvenir store in North Carolina… that one leaves bruises, though. The leather strap he’d made himself, the martinet from Bermuda, the hard leather sandal… her eyes moved fondly to Charlie’s crimsoned, chubby cheeks.

“Charlie?” She called out softly.

“Yes, Rebecca?”

“You can rub now.”

I wish we could read more of "Pete's" work.