Anagrams

I've had some fun this week on this anagram generator site.

Here's a sample of what the program came up with for Hermione's Heart:

Reheat Mesh Iron

A Horsemen Their

Rehearse Him Not

Methane Hero Sir


Try it here with your blog name.

Wednesday WIN

American photographer Allan Teger turns nude female and male bodies into ski slopes, hiking trails and places where motorcycles, horses, skiers and mountain climbers play.

They are not double exposures. Nor are they photoshopped. These unique landscapes are created by photographing toys and miniature “people” directly on the human body.

His photographs are of various parts of the human anatomy, but I have chosen the ones that feature my favourite anatomical feature.

These pictures are from Bored Panda.

Good Advice

Whenever I'm out of ideas for  a blog post, I have only to pick up the newspaper to find fresh inspiration. Here's a letter from the advice column that I think you will enjoy.

Dear Addy,
I made a stupid joke about my husband in front of his friends and co-workers. I did it innocently, but my husband was humiliated.

Now all his co-workers are making fun of him at work. He is furious with me and feels that I don't love him. I know disrespecting him in front of his friends like that was a careless thing to do. He feels I betrayed him and ridiculed him because I don't care about his feelings.

We have been married for 17 years and have two wonderful kids. I am truly sorry, but I'm not sure how to fix this.

 —Heartbroken

Dear Heartbroken,
Even though you admit that this remark was careless and stupid, you should at least recognize that doing this was also extremely hostile and humiliating.

All the same, if you have apologized and asked for forgiveness, your husband should make an effort to release his own anger and meet you halfway.

If you find you two can't successfully get past this (if he continues to bring it up or retaliates in a way that is out of proportion) you should ask him to put you over his knee and give you a good hard spanking. Make it clear that you want his assurance that that will put an end to his anger and bad feelings, and that he will forgive you for your imprudent behavior.

—Addy

Well, maybe I enhanced the last paragraph just a bit. The original was something about seeing a therapist. But it's good advice, don't you think?

From the Top Shelf - Reputations

 To day I am sharing a story from the late Alex Birch's blog, written by GeorgieC. It presses all the right buttons for me - stories about caning in the Headmaster's office usually do - and it also has a surprise ending. I hope it presses your buttons too.

She walked with leaden footsteps down the corridor. Damn that Miss Bridges. What actually is wrong with having a quick cigarette behind the gym? After all, at 18 years of age you can drink in pubs, you can vote for the Government, you can drive, you can legally have s-e-x, but apparently smoking in school means that you get sent to the Headmaster.

What was worse was that she didn't know what the Headmaster would do. He'd only arrived yesterday morning, and as School Assembly wasn't till Thursday morning no one had even seen him around the school yet.

Maybe he'll ignore what she had been told to say by Miss Bridges. "Tell him that you've been sent for the cane for smoking." Maybe he doesn't even use the cane. There had actually been some rumours that in his other schools he didn't like using corporal punishment. Tried to abolish it in one, apparently. Or so someone said.

She rounded the corner and hesitatingly approached the office. A tall and imposing man stood by the open door looking down admiringly at the gleaming new plaque on the door.

Mr T G Benson MA BEd

Headmaster

As she approached he glanced up at her, a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. Piercing, she thought. Looks like they can see right through you. Scary even.

"Excuse me, Sir, I've been sent to you for smoking."

His brow furrowed, and clearing his throat he said "Well, in that case, you'd better come inside."

He ushered her in, and closed the door firmly behind him. She did not notice the little turn of the key to ensure that all lines of escape were covered.

"Well, what have you been up to, Miss...erm...?"

Her head bowed, trying to look repentant in the hope of some sympathy, she replied in a low voice.

"Ward, Sir. Caroline Ward. Miss Bridges, Sir, she found me smoking behind the gym, Sir. Says I have to come to you and...and...and she says I have to get the cane, Sir."

She glanced up hoping that the rumours were true, but seeing only a stern face staring back at her she looked forlornly back down at her feet. Maybe not.

"And, Miss Ward, tell me, have you been caned before for smoking?"

She continued to gaze at her feet. "Yes, Sir. A few times, Sir. Mrs Tompkins, when she was Headmistress, Sir, she gave me the cane for smoking a few times, Sir."

"And how exactly, Miss Ward, did she cane you?"

The girl shuffled her feet, uncomfortable at having to relay this extremely private information to a man.

"She caned me on my ar...er...bottom, Sir, bending over a chair. Six whacks, Sir. It hurt."

"So, Caroline..." She looked up at this change of name, but saw that his face was still as stern as ever. "...it doesn't look as though you've learnt your lesson even though you say it hurt your bottom. Well, let's see if I can have more success in teaching you a lesson or two about the dangers of smoking. Let's see how your bottom feels when I've finished with you!"

He strode across the room to where a bundle of four or five canes were clearly to be seen standing against the wall. He selected one of the thicker ones, and flexing it in his hands, gave a trial swish. Obviously satisfied with the sound it made he marched firmly back to where the wretched girl was standing. So much for the rumours of him not liking to use the cane!! She bit her bottom lip.

"Right, girl, get your skirt up, bend over and touch your toes."

She gasped. "No, Sir...we don't get it like that here! Mrs Tompkins didn't make you...I mean, you didn't have to...she always gave it over the skirt, Sir! We get it on the skirt! You'll see my knicks, Sir. It's not right for a man to see a girl's knicks...!" Her voice trailed away. She was almost crying.

He spoke deliberately. "Do...what...you...are...told. Get your skirt right up...and bend over...right over! I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget!! And if my way means that I see your underpants, then that is what I shall see!! Bend over!!"

There was a momentary battle of wills until, realising she was defeated and with a sinking heart, she slowly reached behind her and lifted the hem of her navy-blue skirt. As it reached its zenith, she leant forward, and reached out with her fingers to the tips of her toes. Her white panties could now be clearly seen beneath the sheer tan nylon of the tights that Sixth Formers were allowed to wear. Her face glowed red.

"I'm going to give you six of the very best." She gave a little whimper and her legs started to shake ever so slightly.

He tapped the cane across the middle of the presented bottom, and with a flick of the wrist delivered a swift stroke which landed with a sharp crack. She gasped slightly, but held her position, fearing the consequences of moving.

Another flick of the wrist, and another gasp, this time a little louder. Mrs Tompkins had always used a full arm swing that somehow didn't really hurt, despite what she had said earlier for effect. This in contrast was no more than a flick, but it stung like Hell, like a thousand bee stings!

A third stroke landed, and this time she gave a cry of anguish. The pain was now beginning to spread. Still she kept her head right down, her fingers straining to reach the tips of her black shoes. Her tie, hanging vertically, covered her mouth and nose.

He paused for a moment and looked down at the white cotton knickers which covered about half of the girl's cheeks. A reddish glow was beginning to develop on the exposed flesh of the other half.

Four! A definite and clear cry now came from the girl's lips, and the beginnings of tears formed in her eyes. In all the years that Mrs Tompkins had caned her, and actually this too had been far more often than she had implied earlier, she had never cried. But this was something else. This was sheer agony. He was obviously an expert.

The fifth stroke landed, and tears now unashamedly appeared - invisible to the cause of them at the other end behind the veil of her cascading blonde locks, but nonetheless the tears were very definitely there. She sobbed and her shoulders shook. Her knees felt like jelly.

And finally, number six. The noise of the stroke landing resembled a pistol shot, the cry of pain that resulted was like the howl of a Banshee, the colour it imparted a deep crimson.

"Stand up, girl." He threw the cane onto the desk with a clatter.

She stood up slowly and painstakingly, her hair dishevelled, her eyes red and moist. Her hands now reached behind her, rubbing, squeezing, massaging. Her skirt was still hitched up around her waist, and although it had slipped down at the front, from where he stood the white panties could still be seen at the sides.

He went across to the door, and quietly turned the key. He opened the door.

"Get out! Don't let me see you back here again, or you'll find out what the cane's like with your knickers down – bare bottom on show in front of the whole school...!"

Her eyes widened with fear, and making good her escape while she could she hurried out of the room, her knickers still on show to anyone who cared to look.

He stood and looked once again admiringly at the plate on the door.

As he did so, a small, round man approached him and spoke.

"Is it done then? Have you done what had to be done?"

"Yes, Headmaster, I've attached it to the door. Looks good, doesn't it? Now if you'll just sign the invoice, I'll be on my way. I know the way out."

The Headmaster signed the pink form with a flourish and bidding his farewells stood for a while looking through his round glasses at his name etched deeply into the gleaming brass.

He turned and entered his new office.

His eyes alighted on the cane resting on the desk.

"Now, what on earth's that doing there? I won't be using that horrible instrument - positively medieval. Oh no, no, no...Not in a girls' school. What would people think...that'd never do my reputation any good...."

At that very moment, a reputation for him was already spreading as Caroline Ward stood in the girls' toilets, pants down around her knees, holding her skirt up around her waist, showing all her friends the results of the new regime the Headmaster was bringing with him.

You Completed the Caption

This picture inspired some real creativity! Here's what you said:

Garyntboy: If you like wearing my underwear so much you can spend some time locked in my wardrobe, you naughty boy.

Six of the best: He says. "My dear, when I find that cane which you have hidden in this clothes closet of yours, that sexy black negligee that you are wearing now will be removed by me. And that voluptous naked rear end of yours will taste painfully that wondrous spanking implement, Do you hear me my sweet but naughty wife?"

Sunnygirl:  I would just like to have her body.

Oh, you wanted a caption: " I worked too hard to get this outfit on, I don't want anyone to try and pick out something else for me to wear."

Ronnie: "Twin or not. I'm locking you in the wardrobe as I'm not having you spoil my fun. It's my turn to be spanked by Roger."

Michael: Coming out of the closet was much more difficult than Corey had ever imagined.

Minelle: I am closing this door and opening another!

Ricky: Aha! Finally caught you!
Give me back my dress! It's my favourite!

A. Lurker: The Lyin' Bytch in the Wardrobe by Reid Moore Lewis
Mother Hubbard was peeved. "I have a plan. Just stay in the closet. Then it won't be bare and the SPCA will let us keep the darn dog," she shouted.

Ms Severe was not quite ready to let her glitzy inner diva out of the closet just yet.

Being confined in tight spaces was a soft limit in this F/f relationship.

At Hogwarts, it was McGonagall's job to install the latest version of Spell-Check.

Prefectdt: Winifred did promise her gullible younger sister that she would be able to get to Narnia, once the door was closed.

Hermione: Sybil and her inner child loved playing hide and seek on rainy days.


Thanks for having fun with me today. Come back tomorrow for an exciting story.

Complete the Caption

This picture by the talented photographer Helmut Newton is both mysterious and erotic. There could be many explanations for the lady, her state of undress, and the contents of the closet.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your submissions in the next post.

Friday FAIL

For your entertainment today, I have yet another selection of wardrobe malfunctions from the apparently inexhaustible supply of Walmartians that inhabit the interwebs.

 It's going to be a loooong subway ride for her.

 This convenience store doesn't sell belts. Pity.

 Who's going to want to sit on that stool after her?

What happens at the mall stays at the mall.

Have a great weekend, everyone!