From the Top Shelf - Once Upon a Time, part 2

We continue with the second installment of "Once Upon a Time" by Gerald Sinclair. You will really want to reread part one again, and you'll find it here. Now let's see how Sir Bevis fared while carrying a handkerchief wet with the tears of a well-spanked princess.

The messenger, breathless and wild-eyed, arrived the following evening. 'Sir Bevis –' he gasped.

'Has slain the dragon?' beamed the King.

The messenger shook his head sadly and held out a helmet everyone recognised. It contained a few charred bones and a scorched fragment of a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

'I think,' said the Queen, 'that Master Erasmus has some explaining to do.'

'A slight miscalculation,' said the magician, unruffled, when he made his appearance. 'An oversight which I sincerely regret.'

'Not as sincerely as I do!' muttered Crystal, wriggling on her cushion.

'Further research,' said Master Erasmus, 'shows that the spell only works if the tears are shed by a virgin.'

There was a tense, awe-struck silence in the Throne Room. Crystal blushed vividly. So did a tall, handsome squire who could be seen furtively glancing round for the nearest exit.

'C-r-r-r-ystal!' said Queen Marguerite.

'But Mother – I – I –'

'Upstairs!'

Five minutes later the tall squire was on his way to the dungeons with an armed guard, while the courtiers were once more listening in fascinated silence to the sound of Crystal's howls and entreaties mingled with the steady thwack! thwack! thwack! of a leather tawse across a royal rump.

'I suppose it's lucky,' said the King next day, 'that we have two more princesses.'

Miranda and Lisette looked at each other in dismay. Lucky?

'Miranda,' said the Queen, ominously. 'I hope there's no doubt about –'

'Of course not!'

'In that case,' said the Queen, 'we'd better go to your bedroom.'

The slim, tawny-haired, soft-spoken Miranda was regarded as the intellectual one among the princesses. Since she had received much of her education across her mother's knee she knew better than to argue when she was ordered into that ignominious position. In a matter of moments her skirts were around her waist and her blue silk briefs were halfway down her thighs.

'Now, Miranda,' said the Queen, with a large ebony-backed hairbrush poised above her daughter's shapely seat. 'Tears are what we need, so let's make sure there are plenty.'

And indeed, Miranda's tears were soon flowing abundantly as that lovely young lady blubbered and pleaded and wriggled through the soundest spanking she had received for years. The scorching impact of hard wood on tender curves was no novelty to Miranda, but on this occasion she had the added misery of knowing she hadn't even done anything to deserve the stinging anguish in her scarlet, quivering behind.

'And who,' asked the Queen a little later, 'is the gallant knight who will ride out with Miranda's handkerchief to face the dragon?'

'I thought of Sir Godfrey,' said King Fedor. 'His remarkable luck at cards has been quite expensive to me lately. Let's see how lucky he is with dragons.'

Shortly afterwards, a very disgruntled Sir Godfrey, swearing under his breath and shedding extra aces from every chink in his armour, went forth to do battle.

The same weary messenger limped into court the following day.

'Well?' demanded the King. 'Did Sir Godfrey give the dragon the coup de grace?

'No,' said the man, glumly. 'But with any luck he may have given the dragon indigestion.'

Queen Marguerite's baleful glare settled upon Miranda. Miranda gulped.

'But Mother, there must be some mistake! I haven't –! I mean I am –! you mustn't think –!'

'Upstairs!' thundered the Queen.

Halfway through the exemplary spanking which followed, Master Erasmus appeared at the bedroom door.

'Your Majesty, stop! There has been an unfortunate error. I'll never trust a Hong Kong crystal ball again!'

'Eh?' said the Queen, hairbrush raised aloft.

'I'm sure Princess Miranda is a virgin,' said the magician. 'Regrettably, that isn't enough. To make the spell truly effective, the chastisement should have been carried out in public.'

Queen Marguerite pondered for a moment, thoughtfully considering the blazing crimson bottom of the innocent young beauty sobbing bitterly across her lap.

'Pity,' said the Queen. 'Still, I've started, so I'll finish.' She brought the brush down sharply to resume the interrupted spanking. Master Erasmus retreated down the corridor, his ears filled with Miranda's tearful entreaties mingled with the juicy splat! of hard wood landing of tender teenage buttocks.

Poor Sir Godfrey! His luck seems to have run out. What about the dragon? We'll find out next week.

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for December 1

How do you feel about spankings that break the skin or cause bleeding?

Bonnie: If others find blood appealing and that's their kink, so be it. But it's a hard stop for us.

Xen: It’s not really something that specifically draws me, but it doesn’t repel me either. In stories I’ve read it signals severity, and severity does play a big role for me in fantasy (and sometimes reality).

We’ve had broken skin a few times... only once that was full on bleeding I think. He was much more worried by it than I was. It’s only occurred with more severe punishments, but the bleeding/broken skin isn’t in itself a measure of severity... it’s just a sign that he hasn’t taken his ring off. :-p I don’t think we’ve ever had broken skin from a cane or other similar implement beyond the typical welts. We may have had a bit of bleeding from paddling on top of blood blisters? But I can’t remember any specific times that’s happened, so if it did I was beyond caring.

Kiwigirliegirl: I've had broken skin from paddling and also from a home made implement that was two green plastics strips banded together. At the time, it didn't bother me, but looking back on it now, it was foolish of me to allow it, because he got too much of a kick out of leaving marks and breaking skin and the relationship became abusive. So now, I'd not allow broken skin, but the odd bruise is welcome. A good reminder fir the next few days.



Bernie: If it was purely accidental - and only on my backside - I guess I'd be ok with it. No desire for it in stories, or real life, at all.

Roz: I don't enjoy anything too extreme in life, stories or pictures. It turns me cold. Bruises and some marking in real life however are welcome.

Barrel: The business side of my wife’s favorite hair brush has ridges, like thick corduroy, that when sternly applied can leave long blood blisters under the skin. Her 27” (68 cm) thin delrin cane imparts deep welts that very rarely, but occasionally, breaks the skin.

No, that is not a place we like to play, but then again, all marks left from a vigorous thrashing are badges of honor I wear proudly, just not in the shower at the gym.

Rosco: I’ll agree with folks above. I’ve bled a few times when Irene has been particularly enthusiastic. Not a big deal. But I’ve seen a video and a few photographs where it’s over the top, unappealing to me and perhaps unhealthy.

Irene is well past menopause, but a bit of blood down there never stopped any of out activities.

Peter: Well in close to fifteen years of her discipline, there have been more than a few times
that I did keep my bruises and broken skin for more than a day, but to me they became
a badge I wore proudly.

It has been thrilling to see my wife take on an assertive role in life as well as with me.
More than once those spankings kept me from the brink. Even her harshest discipline
i always knew were made in love.

There is also be bonus of laying on your stomach as she applies a salve.

 Ronnie: Everyone to their own. For me I don't like to see pictures of really bloody bottoms. A few bruises on my own bottom I like.

Prefectdt: In real life - I do like to play hard sometimes, so the occasional bleed is inevitable. But I am the kind of wimp who wants a sticking plaster put on it before play continues, to stop it becoming a large wound.

In fictional stories - I can't see the problem, just so long as no ink or paper was harmed during the writing process.

In pictures and videos - This does worry me sometimes but as long as the recipient was fully consenting and no long term scaring resulted, I cannot object. Although I might look through squinty eyes sometimes.

Graham: We're just the opposite of most of the comments above. For us, bruising is definitely out.

However, she has occasionally drawn blood with the cane, which when light is OK but definitely a sign to slow down.

We've seen photos with over-the-top bleeding, and that is not at all appealing.

Simon: Over the years I've developed a number of weak spots presumably from the sheer number of canings, strappings and paddlings my poor old bottom has received. As a result almost anything except a spanking results in bleeding which is a shame as I do enjoy a severe punishment. Normally the application of a few plasters does the trick and I can travel without getting blood on my trousers which can be very embarrassing.

Hermione: If Ron ever breaks the skin of my bottom with an implement, or sees a blood blister starting, he stops immediately. We aren't into that kind of harsh punishment. I also don't care for it in stories, pictures or videos. But I can understand that for some, it's an important part of a D/s relationship.

Thank you all for sharing your thoughts. Let's be careful out there!

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #307

Welcome to another weekend spanko brunch. I hope my American readers had a fine Thanksgiving. Don't worry, there's no turkey on the buffet today.

I'd like to discuss something that may be somewhat controversial. In some fictional stories, especially those written in the Victorian period, spankings, canings or birchings often result in bleeding. Some folks may not mind the mention of blood, others may feel it is an important element, and still others will be repelled. To each his own is my motto. But how do you feel about it?

What is your reaction to a spanking or other play that results in the breaking of skin or the appearance of blood, whether in real life, fictional stories, pictures or videos? Is it something you avoid or something that you don't mind or even enjoy?

As always, leave your response as a comment, and I will publish an edited summary of our discussion.

You Completed the Caption

This picture came up when I Googled "pilgrims" but it seems they weren't actually guys who made it to the New World. Thank you, KDPierre, for setting me straight. But you got the idea anyway!

Prefectdt: The boss of the flat cap company suspected that the new range of hats was not so popular, as the queue at the complaints office grew larger with unhappy looking clients.

KDPierre: Guy #1: "Hey guys.....tomorrow is Thanksgiving.....a day North Americans celebrate the pilgrims with a big turkey dinner!"

Guy #2: "Hey, WE are pilgrims......why didn't WE get a special dinner?"

Guy #3: "Because, genius, it was YOUR idea to go to Jerusalem instead of Plymouth!"

Guy #4: "Let's not quibble. I'll tell you what. Let's celebrate OUR pilgrimage with a special feast too!

Guy #5: "Woo Hoo! Falafel, gefilte fish, and challah for EVERYONE!!!"

All: "Tsufridn Danken Tog!!!!"

Wendel: The Original Avengers.
Philippe “Forged Steal” de Stark, Cpt. Bertrand Amerigo, Bernard “Behemoth” de Montbard, Everard des Thor and Gilbert de Nocoolname.

Hermione: Let the Spanksgiving canings begin!

Friday FAIL

It's Black Friday and there are bargains to be had in every store as well as online. But be careful! If the price is too good to be true, you might be buying a knock-off.

 A Festivus shirt from Seinfeld and friends.

 Garfield sure looks angry!

 Tastier than a Kit Kat bar.

 A Paw Patrol concentration camp? Those pups are getting agressive!

The name says it all - a Fony Sony. Step away.


Before you go away empty-handed, please complete the caption.

Complete the Caption

Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends. In honour of the occasion, I present to you a group of pilgrims.

This is one serious bunch of dudes. What makes them so glum? Maybe they hear someone singing. Perhaps the turkey was overcooked. I leave it up to you to determine what those canes are for.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will submit a compilation of your surmises once the Thanksgiving festivities are over.

From the Top Shelf - Once Upon a Time, part 1

I found this story on an old, inactive blog that featured stories from British spanking magazines. This tale, told in three parts, is silly, but it's also quite humorous, and there's plenty of spanking. So relax and enjoy "Once Upon A Time" by Gerald Sinclair, originally published in Janus magazine.

Long ago, in the days of legend and magic, there was a King who had three beautiful daughters. Crystal was the eldest at 21, then came Miranda who was 18, and finally 16-year-old Lisette.

* * *

King Fedor's realm was a happy place on the whole, but problems did arise from time to time. There came a day when a panting messenger fell to one knee before the King and gasped out, 'Sire, a ferocious dragon is ravaging the western provinces!'

'Damn it!' frowned the King, irritably thumping the arm of his throne. 'They'll probably want a reduction of taxes as they did after the Ogre Invasion three years ago. The dragon's going through the usual routine, I take it?'

'Yes, Sire,' said the messenger. 'Killing all the men it can catch, reducing the crops and cottages to ashes with its fiery breath, carrying off beautiful maidens to meet a fate so bizarre –'

'Yes, yes, you needn't go into that,' said the King, uneasily aware of Queen Marguerite's formidable presence at his side. 'What are the local people doing about it, though? There were supposed to be some good dragon-slaying teams in the west. Gramarye United were near the top of the first division last year.'

'Alas, great king,' said the messenger. 'Gramarye United went forth to do battle against the monster a week ago. All we could find of them afterwards was a couple of broken spears and a scorched jockstrap. This dragon is really something special.'

'It's the enchanted variety I suppose,' said Queen Marguerite, impatiently. 'Protected by magic spells, immune to ordinary weapons. You'll have to consult the Court Magician, Fedor. It's time he did something to earn his keep apart from performing dubious conjuring tricks at the men-at-arms' stag parties.'

'Just what I was thinking, my dear,' said the King. 'Someone go and tell Master Erasmus he's wanted immediately.'

Shortly afterwards Master Erasmus stood before them clad in his bright and gaudy official robes; a plump, curly-haired fellow with dimpled cheeks and shifty eyes. The problem was explained to him and he went through the motions of his craft. He consulted ancient cobwebbed volumes, peered into a crystal ball, read teacups and burned peculiar-smelling herbs.

'The answer is not altogether clear,' he said, 'but it seems that the dragon can only be overthrown by a brave knight who has a lady's handkerchief tied to his spear. The handkerchief must be stained with the tears of a royal princess who has been soundly whipped.'

'What?' It was a simultaneous shriek from the King's three lovely daughters.

Queen Marguerite turned to look at the quaking, blushing princesses. 'Fortunately,' she said with a grim smile, 'that can easily be arranged.'

She pointed to Crystal, a long-legged, delightfully curved young lady with big blue eyes and long, gleaming golden hair. 'As the eldest, Crystal, you always take precedence over your sisters. We will now go to your bedroom and –'

'Oh, but Mother!' blurted out Crystal in dismay. 'I don't want – I'd rather not – isn't there some other way?'

'Your bedroom, Crystal!' was the Queen's only response as she arose and took a firm grip on her reluctant daughter's wrist. She led Crystal through the astonished and amused courtiers, out of the Throne Room and up the stairs. By which time, Crystal's cheeks were crimson with embarrassment.

'You can't be serious, Mother!' protested Crystal as they entered her bedroom. 'I – I haven't done anything to be punished for.'

'That has nothing to do with it,' said the Queen, opening a drawer and producing a formidable three-tailed leather tawse. 'Being a member of a Royal family means one must sometimes make sacrifices for the good of the people. Bend over!'

Taking up an all-too-familiar position over the end of the bed, Crystal grumbled, 'That's all very well – but it's my bum that's going to be sacrificed!'

'Don't whine, Crystal,' said her mother, briskly turning up the princess' skirts waist-high to reveal very shapely legs clad in the sheerest silk, and charmingly dainty white lace-trimmed knickers. 'You haven't had a real leathering for nearly six months, so you're overdue for one anyway.'

She deftly drew the knickers down to the stocking tops, feeling a maternal satisfaction at the sight of Crystal's plump, bare, cream-skinned bottom. 'I'm afraid I've been neglecting you, Crystal,' she said, giving an affectionate pat to those tempting curves. 'I'll try to make up for that.'

She stepped back, raised the tawse and brought it down hard.

'Ow!' yelled Crystal, with a convulsive jerk, as she felt the agonising sting of tough leather across her sensitive buttocks.

The tawse swung down again. 'Ooooh!' And again. And again.

'The handkerchief!' wailed Crystal, squirming wildly as her tender bottom burned. 'Let me wipe my eyes and then you can stop!'

'Master Erasmus did say soundly whipped,' said her mother somewhat breathlessly. 'I think another six should do it.'

'Oh no, Mother, please!'

'Oh yes, Crystal!' said the Queen.

Whack! 'Aaahoww!'

Below, in the Throne Room, the courtiers waited in attentive silence. Although the bedroom was some distance away the sound of Crystal's tearful lamentations reached them quite distinctly. Cautious glances of satisfaction were exchanged between those who had often found the Princess over-haughty and inclined to insist on the dignity of her exalted rank. Much tingling excitement was felt all round at the sounds of the tawse striking her bottom.

Eventually the Queen reappeared, holding a handkerchief which was not merely stained but saturated with Crystal's heartfelt tears. She handed it to her husband.

'Give this to Sir Bevis,' she suggested. 'He's supposed to be rather good with dragons and I'm tired of having him hanging round the palace and seducing the serving wenches.'

After Sir Bevis had ridden off on his big white charger with the handkerchief tied to his lance the courtiers, with a slight sense of anti-climax, settled down to wait for news. Princess Crystal emerged from her bedroom, very red about the eyes and unusually subdued, and sent a smirking page to hunt out the plumpest, softest cushion in the palace.

Will Sir Bevis slay the dragon. We'll find out next week.