Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for February 8

This weekend we discussed locations where we would not like to engage in spanking.


Baxter: I have been spanked in a rental cabin in Idaho, a hotel in Brussels, a rental apartment in Paris, a hotel in Leiden Netherlands, our camper in a national forest in colorado. If my wife deems a spanking is necessary, it doesn't really matter where, just so long as there is some semblance of privacy. In the tent camper, we were about 100 feet from the nearest camper so who knows if they could hear the spatula hitting my bottom.

Simon: There was a time when I would have drawn the line about being punished in front of other people. In the last few years I have been spanked in front of small groups and on one occasion at a party attended by nearly a hundred people. However the other people were there for similar reasons with an interest in spanking. I would still be unhappy about a public spanking witnessed by non-spankers.

Pecan Nutjob: We do not want unwilling spectators (and never had willing ones). That is we do not want to impose the sight or sound of a spanking to family, friends, or strangers.

For instance we don't spank in hotel rooms where you hear the neighbours easily. We don't spank at home if there's any chance the children are awake.

We could do a spanking before other spankos.. but this would be in specific settings. We do not see ourselves attending a BDSM club or spanking party.

The kind of scenario we would like to do is: a woman who we would trust would look at me being spanked by my wife while they would hold a conversation on how I'm a little miscreant in need of a spanking. Or she would see my wife spanked by me. Or would spank herself.

Since we've not come across a fellow spanko who we would befriend and trust enough for that, we've never done it.

Minelle: I am not really sure! Probably not an OTK on a public street!

Dr. Ken: I'd probably avoid museums.... :-)

arched one: I've been spanked in many places both inside and outside. Never in front of anyone.

Nina: I wouldn't want to be spanked in front of my parents or with non--spankos as witnesses.

I think hubby could change some of my reservations concerning non-spankos, but the one about my parents would be a no-no.

Sir Wendel: Wouldn’t spank in front of other people. We did spank in the forest preserves and mountain trails but there was always the concern that someone would stumble across us. I'd like to spank the misses in an office building but it would have to be after hours when no one is around.

Ronnie: Don't think I'd like to be spanked in front of other people though when I read reports of spanking parties, I think I could change my mind if I attended one.

S: Our kitchen is next to the room where we were having a supper party. I went in there, having served up a rather nasty course. D followed me, shut the door, and took off his leather slipper. I knew just what that meant, and pulled up my skirts, before bending down to touch my toes. His slipper certainly stings, but it also make a noise like a thunderclap, and by the time he had well well spanked my nearly-bare bottom, our guests must have known what was going on. I stood up, straightened my skirts, and took my smarting rear back to join them. A soft cushion had been placed on my chair ! I don't know which of my four cheeks was redder!

Jenn: My first idea was to answer "a church". It would be ok to be spanked in a secluded area of a public park of some kind. It would even be fun to get a discreet swat or two while walking in a crowd. I'd like to be spanked in my office while leaning out the open window. I would struggle to avoid wincing or having any sort of audible reaction. I would also like to be spanked in a boat or on a secluded island where I was almost guaranteed that there would be no spectators. That would be cool!

Pecan Nutjob: Sir Wendel, we've done spankings and even sex in forests. The big difficulty is to be absolutely sure there is nobody around, especially for intercourse: it's not that easy to get dressed in a hurry. So it was always an exceptional occurrence.

More often, we've done a few slaps on the butt when we could see nobody was watching.

Hermione: Following Dr. Ken's thought process, I would avoid libraries.

Seriously though, I wouldn't care to be spanked at the home of any of our relatives, old or young. We don't want our families to know what goes on behind closed doors, and I suspect they wouldn't want to know either.

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #58

It seems the week just flew by, and once again we are gathered together for an exciting discussion. From time to time I think that I'm always ready for a spanking, any time, any place. But on second thought, there might be some locations where I wouldn't feel comfortable being spanked. I'm referring to geographic locations, not places on the body.

What venue(s) would you draw the line at for spanking? What might make you change your mind?

Leave your response as a comment, and once everyone has had a chance to speak I will publish a summary of our conversation.

You Completed the Caption

This photo clearly appealed to many of my readers, according to your captions:


DtBHC: Come here Miss Candy Pants, I too have an all day sucker you would like to wrap your lips around.

Come here my girl and let me put some colour in those cheeks.

Six of the best: "I know I deserve a licking, but does it have to be that pliable stinging CANE on my bare bottom?" says the naughty woman.

ricky: Do you want a lick?

Leigh: I think she knows just what she's doing and waiting for her just rewards.

Nina: I've been so naughty, I've been eating too many sweets. Do you want me to bend over now, please?

Sir Wendel: Want some candy, little boy?

Arched one: She watches as he selects a switch. "You said I could finish my sucker first, right?"

Dr.Ken: "What do you mean, you're going to give ME a licking?"

Hermione: Eating the paddle is one way to avoid a spanking.


For more spanking good times, stick around for brunch, being served in the woodshed shortly.

Friday FAIL

The current food fad seems to be the avoidance of gluten in food. I'm not convinced it's something to worry about, except for certain medical conditions, but many people are convinced otherwise.

To take advantage of the latest craze, some businesses have jumped on the bandwagon and are advertising their non-edible products and services as gluten-free.

Please remember to Complete the Caption - now gluten free.

Complete the Caption

The lollipop looks tasty, but this young lady appears to be expecting more than just candy. What do you think?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your conjectures in an upcoming post.

Restoring Order

Last year I described how Ron sometimes uses the implements intended for my bottom in a random order. He does this to keep me focused as well as for his own amusement. For a laugh, I decided to help him keep our spankings orderly.

I took some cardstock from our stash of printing supplies and cut four little card tents. With a felt-tip marker I wrote the numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4 on them, then hid them in my top dresser drawer until Saturday.

When the appointed hour arrived on that day, I hurried upstairs ahead of Ron and arranged the cards in a row on the bed. I had hoped to escape to the bathroom before he came up, but as I turned to leave the room, Ron appeared in the doorway. He looked at the cards, laughed and said, "Well, now, that will keep me organized."

When I returned to the bedroom I saw four implements, each neatly placed below a card. In position number 1 was the dogging bat, a brown leather strap took position 2, the hard, black paddle was at number 3, and at number 4 was the rose paddle. And Ron stayed organized. Not once did the implements land on my bottom out of their assigned order.

When it was over, Ron gathered up the paddles and left to hang them up while I collected the cards and tucked them into the box where the smaller implements are kept. I wouldn't want to use them every time because after all, variety is the spice of life. But once in a while I will bring them out again.

From the Top Shelf - The Tradition

I am very excited to announce that Rollin Hand from Disciplinary Tales has written a new novelette, The Ladies of Heatherton Hall, and he has very kindly agreed to allow me to share some of it with you. Today I'm please to bring you the prologue from that book. It sets the scene for the tradition of discipline which is scrupulously adhered to throughout each chapter of the tale.

The Earl of Carlisle entered the police station and immediately all heads turned and conversation ceased. It was unusual that the earl would present himself at the police station in person, but it was not unprecedented.

“Well, where is she?” he asked. “Jenny Mears, one of my staff—where is she?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, lordship, but they’ve already taken her to the birching chamber,” said the duty sergeant, breaking the silence. They all knew she was in service at Heatherton Hall. “There’s a few of them due for a flogging this morning and she’s one of them.”

The butler had informed the earl that morning that Jenny Mears, his wife’s personal maid, had been accused of shoplifting. The shop owner had appeared before the magistrate to lodge a complaint and Jenny had been arrested. At an all too brief hearing Jenny had pled guilty to pilfering a locket. The magistrate had sentenced her to twelve strokes with the island birch rod. Once this information had been conveyed to the earl, at the urging of his wife, he had called for his carriage and had hurried to the village.

“You must do something,” said the countess. “Jenny is such a sweet girl and I love her like a daughter.” Indeed, the earl understood. With all due haste he sped to the police station. He hoped he was not too late.

“Take me to her,” said the earl.

The duty sergeant nodded to a constable who escorted the earl down a corridor and across a courtyard to little used wing of the jail. The birching room was a large converted storeroom. What sunlight there was streamed though tall windows, illuminating a peculiar piece of apparatus that stood at its center. The flogging frame was a sturdy structure made from heavy timbers that sported an upright section joined to an angled section. The prisoner lay across the top of the upright section and her upper torso was secured to the angled portion, forcing her to bend forward and present her buttocks for the whipping. And it was already in use. A lissome female miscreant was bent over, her bared bottom on display. Her skirts had been pinned up, her long drawers lowered. A beefy wardress was in the process of selecting a birch rod from a bucket in a corner. The earl’s eyes flitted about the room. The female was not Jenny, for Jenny stood against a far wall with two other young women, flanked by guards. Her eyes were wide with fright and her breasts were heaving. Several witnesses were in attendance, probably victims who had made the complaints and were thus entitled to see justice meted out.

The earl regarded her with narrowed eyes, a look of disapproval on his face. Then he saw that activity in the room had ceased, as if awaiting a signal from him.

“Please proceed,” he said. It will do her good to witness what is about to happen, he decided.

The wardress selected a rod. Comprised of a dozen whippy switches it was nearly three feet long and bound at one end with twine. She swished it about, testing its flexibility. The whining sound made the secured prisoner flinch and she turned her head, staring at the instrument, her eyes wide with fear. The wardress took her position to the side of the prisoner and extended her arm, gauging the distance, aligning the rod for a first stroke.

The chamber went deathly quiet. The wardress drew her arm back. The rod hung suspended in mid air for a second and then descended in a blur of motion. A sharp thwick announced the rod’s impact on the girl’s fulsome buttocks. Her bottom cheeks quivered and she uttered a shrill scream. A second stroke caused her to scream louder. A fine tracery of red lines appeared on the white flesh. The girl stamped her feet and tried to wriggle.

“Please, oh please!” she begged. But another stroke fell on her twitching behind causing her to cry out again in anguish.

The flogging proceeded. The earl watched Jenny’s reaction. She quailed in fear, wincing sympathetically as the young woman in the whipping frame absorbed stroke after stroke. The young girl’s buttocks clenched and relaxed as if trying to shake off the excruciating sting, but the wardress always seemed to catch those jiggling orbs in a relaxed state, making them ripple as the rod landed. From time to time Jenny’s eyes darted about, eventually coming to rest on the earl’s face and then begging, imploring the earl for mercy. For she knew she was next.

When the prescribed twelve strokes had been meted out, they unfastened the sobbing girl and returned her to a place against the wall to wait with the others.

A constable read from a paper in his hand. “Jenny Mears, bring her forward.” A pair of strong arms clutched her from either side and started to propel her toward the frame.

“Stop,” said the earl raising his hand. “I invoke the tradition of Oakton Island. I will attend to the chastisement of the girl myself. I wish her released to my custody.”

The Tradition, as it was called, had held sway on Oakton Island as far back as anyone could remember. The Wardress nodded to the guards. “Release her,” she said.

“Jenny, come with me,” said the earl, offering his hand. He escorted her out of the police station.

“Thank you, oh, thank you, sir,” said the frightened girl when they were safely away in the carriage.

The earl looked her in the eye. “Don’t thank me yet, Jenny. There is still the matter of your punishment which I am duty bound to carry out. When we arrive at the Hall you are to go into the garden and cut six supple switches twenty inches long. Strip them of shoots and buds and inform the butler when you have done so. You may then go and wait for me in the library. You have been spared a public flogging, but mark my words, you will be punished severely and afterwards you will go into the village and apologize to the shop owner.”

As Jenny nodded in assent, she could only imagine that she would have difficulty sitting for several days. Spared a public whipping for a private one. She supposed it was preferable, but it wasn’t for her to say. On Oakton island tradition ruled above all else, and everyone did their duty.

In the weeks to come I will be sharing more from the book, but if you'd like to read ahead, go to Rollin's blog and click on the link in the sidebar to order it now.