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your ass from your elbow?

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I scored 7 out of 14. How did you do?

Midsomer Masochist

Midsomer Murders is an entertaining drama about a fictitious English county with the highest murder rate in the country. Over the past ten years, two to three people per week have died under suspicious circumstances in one of the tiny Midsomer villages.

Victims and perpetrators alike tend to be wealthy, eccentric, or obsessed with unusual hobbies and pastimes. In each episode, quaint and old-fashioned but otherwise reasonably harmless individuals are gradually exposed as sinister, greedy, jealous or sexually deviant as the plot unfolds and the murders continue.
The distinguished Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby and his equally handsome young assistant, Detective Sargeant Troy, manage to unravel the strings of deception one by one, and the mysteries are revealed when the criminal is confronted and confesses.

An episode that aired recently (probably a few years old for British viewers) called Country Matters was unexpectedly but delightfully kinky.

In one scene, a lovely young woman in full riding kit, carrying a riding crop, walks into the stable and confronts a man sitting down beside a saddle and bridle. He explains that he was only resting for a moment, but she is obviously displeased that he has not done his assigned tasks. She orders him to stand up and bend over a table, then goes to a rack on the wall where she hangs the crop and chooses a dressage whip instead. There is a closeup of the man's bottom, with trousers stretched tight across it. Then we see his face, and watch as the woman swings the whip and it connects. The expression on his face is a mixture of shock, excitement and pleasure; his eyes widen and his mouth forms an O.

In a later scene, the same man is hard at work cleaning tack when the two detectives arrive to continue their investigation. He apologizes for not having finished, then stands up, goes to the table, drops his trousers and bends over, saying "Oh well, variety is the spice of life." The detectives exchange startled looks.

There's also a kinky reference in a short conversation between Barnaby and his wife as she considers helping out at a cooking school. "[D]ishing out a bit of discipline, that I could handle."

The View from Here - Who Decides?

Lately, while roaming through the blogosphere, I've enjoyed reading about creative husbands who come up with imaginative ways to spank their wives. Although I always enjoy the spanking I do get, I think it's time that I too am surprised by some innovative position, implement, clothing or dialogue.

Ron doesn't read spanking blogs so he isn't aware of the many possibilities. Furthermore, he isn't a mind-reader. So it's up to me to come up with some ideas, and I can either tell him about them or show him. Somehow, I think that showing him might be much more fun.

Last week, I thought long and hard about what I really did want. Then when our time for play was imminent, I was prepared. I slipped into some lacy lingerie, and piled the bed pillows on top of each other at the foot of the bed. When Ron came in, his eyes widened when he saw what I was--or wasn't--wearing, and glanced at the pillows. Clearly this was something different, and he was all for it.

He quickly disrobed then proceeded to help me out of my outfit, taking an amazingly long time to do so. Eventually it was done, and he motioned me to bend over the pillows.

"Which one do you want," he asked as he started to untangle the terrible trio.
"The black one," I replied, my voice a bit muffled from the bedding. This was really easy after all.

The black leather paddle stings a good deal more than the gentler dogging bat, and Ron seldom uses it because it isn't as stiff and he can't control it as well when I'm lying in my usual position. But since we were both standing (sort of) he had room to swing and it was much better. Actually it hurt like **** as the swats landed on the upper part of my bottom. Ouch! I buried my face in the blanket and squeaked each time the leather connected. After a breather, when my sore posterior got a gentle massage, Ron resumed his attack, and this time the swats were lower down. They were still hard enough to make me say "Ow!" but somehow easier to take.

Luckily, this spanking was a short one. Ron soon decided he needed to give my bottom and other intimate areas a different kind of attention while I was still in the same position, and I enthusiastically agreed with his decision.

Later that evening I asked him how he felt about the black paddle, and he said it was much better that way. I agreed that I had liked it too. Then quite unexpectedly, Ron asked, "Did it really turn you on, doing it that way?"

"Oh, yes! The position, the pillows, the paddle, it was perfect!"

"Good to know."

Fast forward to the following week, when I was summoned to the bedroom for a spanking. Ron stood at the door, grinning. Pillows were piled at the foot of the bed, and the belt lay beside them, ready for use.

It was my turn to look wide-eyed. What a surprise!

"Oh." It was all I could manage to say.

"You're in for a treat. I'm going to use the buckle end."

He wouldn't, of course. I burst out laughing and gave him a hug. And I was very glad that I had taken the trouble to show him exactly what I wanted the week before. He's a quick study, and this occasion was even nicer than the preceding one because he added his own variations to it.

Ron first positioned me on my knees in front of him so that I could show my enthusiasm for his new-found creativity. After a few minutes he pushed my head away. "We'll come back to this later." He helped me to my feet and motioned for me to bend over the foot of the bed.

Ron is an expert the belt. I think he practises when I'm not around. He has perfected his technique so that he no longer leaves marks on my backside. I found myself standing on tiptoe, arching my back and thrusting my bottom up to meet the leather on its decent. Each time he stopped to rub my reddened cheeks, my heels returned to earth.

When Ron decided my bottom had had enough entertainment, I once more knelt in front of him and finished what I had started earlier. Then we snuggled under the covers and I was well rewarded for my efforts. It was an afternoon to remember.

I now feel more comfortable introducing something new that I'm longing to try, and plan to do it again soon, so stay tuned for the next addition to our repertoire.

Post-it

The office would be a pretty lively place if I started using these sticky notes that I found in a store at the local mall.

Maybe I could use them as hints for a spanking, and stick one on the mirror before Ron shaves in the morning.

Any other suggestions?

What Does a Girl Have to Do?

Have you seen the latest ad for Calvin Klein jeans? The young lady is sprawled across two perfectly good laps, in ideal spanking position. She's practically begging for it.

But the guys are ignoring her! Are they playing hard to get? Bored with spanking? Watching sports on two different TV sets? One has his arm up as if to spank, but he's going to connect with her ribs unless he starts paying attention.

What's up with these two? What does a girl have to do to get a little spanking?

Wear Red on Friday

Are you wearing red today? The idea of wearing red on Friday to demonstrate support for U.S. troops originated a few years ago. Since the colour red is strongly associated with Canada, the concept quickly spread north of the border.

We Canadians wear red every Friday to remember not only military personnel serving in Afghanistan, but all members of the armed forces wherever they are. It's our way of saying "thank you" to them for putting their lives on the line.

I know there are readers and bloggers who have served their countries in the past or are serving them now, or who have children currently stationed in areas of conflict. When I wear red, I honour them as well.


It doesn't have to be a t-shirt.

Touch My What?

Before a caning, I am led to believe that "assume the position" means that the recipient of the strokes is to bend over and touch his or her toes.

Really? All the way down there? Just touch, or hold? Could it be ankles instead? What about knees? Do you get extra strokes for inflexible joints? Do you just go down as far as you can and hope for the best?

I've practically never been able to touch my toes. Not even as a child. I could sort of bounce downward and tap them, but couldn't hold the position for more than a second or two. The only time I was reasonably successful was during a summer of daily ballet, jazz and modern dance classes when I was at University. For a brief time, I could reach distant parts of my anatomy with my hands. But that didn't last. And now, there's a lot more of me in front; it pretty much rules out any finger-toe contact.

Touch your knees doesn't have the same ring to it. Touch your thighs...nope.
I guess I wouldn't be a suitable naughty schoolgirl, then.