Sunday, May 20, 2018

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #228

Welcome, dear readers, to a very special royal wedding brunch. I know there are many of you who are bloggers, and there are many more who do not have blogs but enjoy reading about spanking here. There is much creative energy out there that never sees the light of day. This week's topic is open to all, whether you blog or not.

Do you ever write about spanking? If so, do you prefer to write about your own real-life experiences, or do you write about fictional characters and situations. Have you ever written down your own secret fantasies? Do you share your writing with others or is it private? If you don't write, do you prefer to read about real spankings or fictional ones?

Please feel free to join in and express your preferences by leaving a comment. You may remain anonymous if you wish. I will publish a summary of our discussion once everyone has had a chance to speak.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, May 19, 2018

You Completed the Caption

Baxter: You see my dear, it is all about energy. Now witness when I take you across my knee, the more energy I put into spanking you, the higher the results, thus E=MC squared. Very simple concept. now please bare your bottom so that I can again prove this to you.

Kingspan: I could make her ass appear red by moving it away from me at high speed and observing the Doppler shift, but I can think of a more efficient and pleasurable way to achieve the same result.

Katie: Hazel embraced her knowledge of shorthand, while the professor entertained thoughts of a very different type of hand action!

Windy: "Silly man, E does not equal MC cubed, it's MC squared."

Sir Wendel: My dear, I call it the "Theory of Spanking Relativity". Come over here and I will give you a demonstration.

Bernie: Dammit, Mileva, write it down correctly, or I will prove to you that E does not equal MC*Hammer. And, no it's not MC**Hammer, either. And where did you get the notion that there's an MC Hammer, anyway? Do you have any other ideas about the secrets of the universe?

Ronnie: E=MC squared, speed of light, black holes. Wish I knew what he was talking about.

Dr. Ken: Errors = Me Caning her bottom about three times over. Or what I like to call E=MC squar....wait a minute, I may be on to something here....

Hermione: Oh, gosh, I don't know the shorthand symbols for all those formulas. I'll just draw a black box instead. Nobody will know the difference.
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, May 17, 2018

Complete the Caption

Shhhh! Genius at work. What does the esteemed scientist think of his new secretary? Better still, what does she think of him? Is that a cane I see hanging on the wall?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your dissertations on Saturday.
From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

From the Top Shelf - Confessions and Experiences


Today's story is from Confessions and Experiences by the notorious Edith Cadivec, whose love of dishing out the rod to schoolchildren earned her a prison sentence. In this extract she talks of how, in her early years, a stern stepmother established her iron will. I first read this excerpt many years ago, in one of my first spanking paperbacks, and it was the source of many masturbatory fantasies. I am pleased to be able to share it with you here.
My father's sister, Aunt Regina, the widow of a district judge who had died early, came over to the house after my mother died, as she had done so often before, in order to see that everything was all right. The household was greatly neglected, the wardrobe of the children was in a bad way, and our upbringing left much to be desired. This time Aunty remained with us for several months, more for her brother's sake than for her motherless nieces. She found us not at all properly brought up and soon found she could not cope with the task of running her brother's household permanently, thus soon returned to the loneliness and peace of her widow's residence. This was certainly the reason why father chose to marry for a second time, only one year after my mother's death.

My stepmother was a lady of thirty five. When father took her home she had just become the widow of a seventy-eight-year-old doctor, to whom she had been married for four years. Formerly she had been the governess of many children in socially prominent families.

Outwardly she was pleasant without actually being pretty. Practical, materialistic,and clever as she was, she had married father only for reasons of security. She was a model housewife, a good cook, a foe of dust and of stockings with holes and tyrannised the whole house with her inveterate love of order. She shook me out of my daydreaming and urged me to take up needlework. Gabrielle had to help with the housework and knit stockings. We were no longer allowed to be idle.

We sisters quickly discovered that our stepmother was a lady of great energy and sternness who always knew how to make her will prevail. She demanded prompt obedience, good behaviour and an iron industriousness from us. When she was angry and bored through us with her looks, her cold steel-green eyes could look at us with a sternness that made hot and cold shivers run down our spines. Our freedom was limited and now we had to come home punctually, on the minute.

Despite her zeal in child rearing, our stepmother did not show the slightest affection for us children. But she was ostentatiously affectionate with father. He was happy at her side, wholly hen pecked.

A few months after the entrance of our stepmother into our lives, it happened that Gabrielle did not come home punctually at one o' clock for the midday meal. It was served and eaten as usual and when she did finally come home, around one thirty, she was served afterward and had to eat alone. My stepmother darted angry glances but did not utter a word as long as father was present. Gabrielle excused herself to father, explaining that she was late because she had accompanied a school friend home, and believed that her explanation had settled the matter.

When father had left the house, our stepmother came into the room where Gabrielle and I were busy with our homework. She went directly up to my sister and, flushing red, angrily demanded, "At what time are you supposed to be home?"

"At one o' clock," answered Gabrielle calmly.

"And at what time did you get home today?"

"At one thirty because I walked my friend home."

"Yes indeed! But you know I have insisted again and again that you be home at one o' clock on the dot. Now come with me!"

She grabbed the resisting Gabrielle by the arm and dragged her to the bedroom next to the room in which we had been sitting. It was clear to both of us that something terrible was now about to happen. I stared into space, stiff, as if paralysed in every joint. My heart was in my mouth and the air was laden with an oppressive mystery that took my breath away. Gabrielle began to cry, plead and promise that she would never do it again. But stepmother did not listen and silently dragged Gabrielle along with her. After they disappeared into the bedroom, she locked the door.

The surmise that a thrashing was in the offing became a certainty. An oppressive stillness prevailed all around me, so that I could hear every sound coming from the bedroom. I heard the sound of a chair being pulled out and then I heard my stepmother.

"Now, little girl, my patience with you is at an end! If you will not hear what I say you must be made to feel my anger. Now you will taste the birch on your naked bottom. Maybe that will have some effect!"

Immediately the bedroom resounded with urgent pleas and implorations for forgiveness. Gabrielle's promises to mend her ways were desperate, her weeping grew louder and louder, her screaming ever more heart rending. A convulsion went through my body and I trembled like an aspen leaf.

Gabrielle, in a shocked fear ridden tone, whimpered and squealed "No-no- you can't unbutton my drawers! I'll be good-good and punctual-I won't do it again. Don't take down my drawers-no-no!"

A piercing shriek ensued confirming that her pleas were in vain and that Gabrielle's bare bottom had received the first blow with the birch, and marked the first time that our stepmother had given a birching in our house. Indeed it was the first time ever that Gabrielle had received a taste of the rod - but it was not to be the last!

I listened in state of frantic, tense excitement to the whistle of the birch as it came swishing down, blow after blow, on my sister's bared bottom. So many were the blows that descended on Gabrielle's bottom that it seemed the birching would never end. I will never forget that day - my soul inflamed and my blood raged as in a fever.

A whole new epoch was ushered in by this event. From then on, our stepmother thought of no other punishment for us children than the birch, and always on the fully bared bottom. Since that day hardly a week went by without my sister or me being summoned into the bedroom for a whipping.

Gabrielle, who was older, always had to unbutton her own drawers whereas my stepmother pulled mine down. When I received the rod for the first time, I could hardly endure it. The blows, which had the effect of molten lead on a naked bottom, singed my flesh like an infernal fire.

We were never birched when father was at home, but we lived in constant fear of inviting a punishment. One day Gabrielle complained about our stepmother to father because she, now a big girl of almost fourteen, had been birched. She did not want to put up with this anymore. But father merely answered "You must have surely deserved it, my child!"

That day, when father left the house, our stepmother summoned Gabrielle to the bedroom and birched her once again, this time so soundly that she never again complained to father. Hereafter she meekly submitted to her punishments.

I always waited for such events with taut nerves. I observed my stepmother's features searchingly and tried to read in them the riddle of her inner being. Never did her eyes beam more brightly, never did the smile around the corners of her mouth play more happily than when she could belabour the bare bottoms of her step daughters with the birch. She would beat with a slow deliberation and the strange sensations I felt filled me with awe.

Later, when I recognised the nature of my own being, when my eyes and mind had been opened to the sweet pleasures of the rod, the image of my stepmother often cropped up in my mind. Then I would see her glowing cheeks, her flashing eyes, and I understood the zeal with which she sought excuses for calling two grown girls into her bedroom for punishment. No doubt it was my stepmother's greatest enjoyment.

In the evening, of course, I was bent on finding out whether traces of the birching were still discernible on my sister's bottom. At bedtime I made her lift her nightgown and, with horror, I saw a number of clear, reddish streaks. Especially noticeable were the yellow-blue spots on her right buttock which was precisely where the points of the birch had landed.

It was understandable that such a sight should excite me and fill me with quaking fear. Which of us would be next to have her naked bottom birched so soundly. Numberless times I too was stretched over a chair like Gabrielle and received the birch on my bare buttocks. In the beginning both my sister and I found it puzzling when stepmother came into the room, motioned with her forefinger, and called out "Edith, come here!"

Little by little, however, we understood what it signified: the birch rod, the rear flap of the drawers pulled down to bare the bottom. She laid such careful emphasis on the word 'naked' when rebuking the culprit and one felt like crawling into a hole in shame.

At the time it seemed that a complete transformation had taken place in my soul. Until then I had been but a schoolgirl. My thoughts were divided between homework, my playmates, my sister and my home. Now, since the introduction of birching and a strict regime, a new and exciting element had been added to my education, a feeling my sister never grasped in the same way.

As the years went by, only I was consumed by the erotic power of a birching! Why? This question has often occupied my thoughts. Is it an accident or did I possess this tendency from birth? Or was it placed in my soul from the ovum onwards and merely waited only for this domestic impetus to break out with elemental force? If only I knew!
I have often asked myself those questions. How about you?
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, May 14, 2018

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for May 13

Do you remember the worst spanking you ever received or gave?

Amy: I can think of two examples and both happened in the very beginning. Eric was so worried about being too hard on me, that first "swat" got a look from me like, "Uh... that's all you got?" LOL. The other example was when we tried our first "role play" and I just thought he was such a cute tough guy, I was beaming and grinning to the point that he threw up his hands, announced that this was not working, and walked away. In both instances, we learned that communication is key and that this whole spanking thing is actually a partnership, a dance as it were.

abby: It was at least 19 years ago...maybe more. We had been mis-communicating all day...both of our faults. He decided I needed a 'barn-burner' spanking...I leaned over the chair, it was short, but with the large paddle and all hard ones. He finished I got up and stomped up the stairs ignoring Him telling me to come back, I stopped at the top and heard Him say come back we are not done. I almost just kept walking out the door, I was furious...but I stopped and walked back down the stairs...and he pulled me in for a big bear hug, and pulled me on his lap so we could talk it out. It could have ended very differently...but I am so glad it did not.

Rosco: A bad spanking - is there really such a thing? Perhaps one that never really got started.

The cute, high energy, flirty but bratty Monica finally crossed the line by spitting sticky gooey slurpee on me. I chased her and landed a solid swat on her bottom. But she got away and I chased her again determined to giver her the punishment she deserved and seemed to be asking for.

But then in stepped Molly who told us both to grow up. What a bitch.

Funny, when I first read the question I thought it was about a spanking that didn’t work for some reason, not one that was especially hard or embarrassing.

My wife Irene spanks me once a week or so, usually but not always prior to reverse cowgirl cunnilingus and other related activities. The spankings are certainly consensual but once we start it’s important for me to play the part of a naughty boy getting what he deserves. Irene tells me that she really does like to hurt me a bit. I would describe all her spankings as Intense but not severe. She leaves my bottom tender for several days, but never really bruised or worse.

But there have been times when she’s been less than careful with whips or other implements and the lash wraps around and gets me on the hipbone. A few times she’s also mistakenly struck my testicles with force. Whenever these things happen, the delightful sexual aspect of our encounter disappears immediately. So those times were the worst, but Irene has been more careful for many years.

Roz: Two spankings come to mind. Rick was away and I was going to visit my parents which involved driving a notorious stretch of road which included a small, very windy mountain pass and I was returning after dark. I failed to check in and let him know I was home again (also a rule at the time). Poor Rick was beside himself with worry and the spanking that followed was a serious one which included a few different implements. What made it more memorable was the emotion and feelings involved on both our parts. Not a 'bad' spanking but definitely memorable.

The other occasion was one time something very minor had happened, which wouldn't usually have upset Rick at wll, but he spanked me with no prelude or aftercare, which is unheard of. I was left angry, upset and confused. We talked after and he apologised and admitted he was just using an excuse to try out a new implement. He could, of course have done so in a fun/play setting. Needless to say it never happened again.

Yorkie: Like I say to my wife, there is no such thing as bad sex. Any time I can be intimate and connected to my wife is always good. As my spankings are always erotic and turn me on immensely, I am of the same opinion about spankings for the same reasons as for sex.

Anon 1: My wife is the head of the household, most males would not want to admit that. The worst spanking was on the first visit to my mother-in-law, a year after our marriage. I have an attitude my wife addresses at the time, I was warned about that, plus my behavior, I have to have my way, man of the house attitude. It is a good two days' trip and she reminded as I drove she would not hesitate giving me a spanking. At the hotel stepping out of the shower prior to going to dinner, she showed me the dreaded hairbrush and I knew I better be good.

It was the third day that I messed up, my wife pointed to the bedroom, my mother-in-law with a smile on her face. In the bedroom my wife waster no time, I was to undress, no pleading, I did and stood naked, she scolded me for a long time and then over her lap. I know my mother-in-law could hear and I could not help it. Once the spanking was done I was told to put my underpants on, i was to face the wall in the front room, I looked at her and she had that look and with a grip on my arm I was led to the front room. My mother-in-law looked at me, sure is loud isn't he, my wife smiled, always. I stood facing the wall, my mother-in-law soon was standing behind me, these are not needed young man and down came my underpants. That is better, very good job dear, I said nothing. The rest of the time there was okay, the next to the last day I showed the spanking did not correct the problem. Over my wife's lap in the bedroom, a few swats already landed and my mother-in-law walked in. Let me spank him she said and sure enough I was spanked my my mother-in-law and she was harder than my wife.

Anon 2: I dated this woman (early 30's) I was mid 20's, she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. This I learned shortly after seeing her, I thought I could handle it. We were staying at a nice beach front home we rented for a week. Been out to dinner, met a couple that rented the home next to us, nice couple. Well my girlfriend decided to show her true colors and I was polite and asked her to be nice, she smiled and I then said your acting like a spoiled little girl who needs a spanking, she just looked at me and was not going to believe me.

 A couple of mornings later as she was stepping out of the shower, I watched her dry off and commented how beautiful she was, she smiled and wrapping the towel around her self told me she would be done soon. I took hold of her arm and lead her to the bedroom I had a chair in the middle of the room and soon had her across my lap. Won't be needing this and raised her enough to remove the towel. I heard how dare you, I'm too old, don't you dare, but soon my hand was landing on her bare bottom and she tried to get off but I had a strong grip. She finally was pleading and promising to be good, I told her she best do as I say from now on, she agreed, I then reached under the chair and pulled out her hairbrush. She saw it, please, NO, I'll be good, but I applied it and enjoyed how she was squirming, crying, and when i stood her up she danced around the room rubbing, crying. I told her naughty little girls will be given a spanking, and you have been a very naughty little girl have you not, yes she said.

I dated her for another year or so, she did receive other spankings, but that first spanking she said was the worst and I must agree.

Windy: Hi, Hermoine! I would say just in general in the past if it wasn't hard enough... still learning back then like Amy and Eric..... and last week, he broke a dowel rod on me. ROFL It was very thin and did not do much more than a slight sting, but I thought it was hilarious he broke it. He didn't think it was funny. Apparently, he's up to serious business back there!! lol

Hermione: The early ones I had with my ex were not the greatest. There was a consistent theme running through them; he constantly reminded me that I was 'sick' to want to be spanked, and he was only doing it begrudgingly. Needless to say, that relationship didn't last.
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, May 13, 2018

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #227

 Welcome to our weekend brunch, when we have the opportunity to discuss a topic related to the percussive activity we all enjoy so much.

Speaking of enjoyment, sometimes a spanking does not go as planned. Something goes wrong, and the occasion is not a pleasant one. Today's topic was suggested last week by an anonymous reader, and I think it bears some consideration.

What is the worst spanking you ever received or gave? What makes it the worst? Is there something you could have done while it was happening? Did you learn something from the experience?

Leave your response as a comment and I will publish a summary of our conversation on Monday.

From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, May 12, 2018

You Completed the Caption

Baxter: Oh darn, I am missing that great shoe sale today. Wonder if I will get a spanking after I come home with five boxes of shoes I don't really need or can afford?

Anon 1: Finally he decided to spank me, feels so good, but why now, at a nice hotel, how will I be able to sit for breakfast? Sure hope he does not pull the nightie up, too late, my bare bottom is feeling it more.

Leigh: She couldn't believe he finally got her message and hoped he didn't stop too soon.

Katie: "That's right! OW! Just like that! Whoa! OW!! Impressive! OWW!!! He's getting to be a great spanker!"

Anon 2: Next week it is my turn to spank him -- with a Spencer paddle no less, according to our agreement. I can't wait!

Anon 3: I can't remember if I put on clean panties ... or any panties!

I wonder what he's going to say when he finds out my bottom's already red from the spanking my boss gave me this afternoon?

Did I turn off the stove?

Oh, dear, he's a lot better at this spanking stuff than I thought he would be. I have a feeling I'm really in for it now.

Ronnie: How can I tell him to spank me harder, OUCH OUCH, I think he knows.

Rosco: Does he even know how wet my pussy is? Men are so dense sometimes.

Sir Wendel: What the hell, is he just dusting off my bottom?

Hermione:  Tee hee! Wait till he discovers my new steel mesh-reinforced Spanx. This is going to hurt him more than it hurts me.
From Hermione's Heart