Thursday, April 26, 2018

Finish this Sentence

Lately I've been thinking about the good old days, which in many ways may not have been all that good, but at least things were simpler then. Only four television channels to choose from, one radio station, one movie theater with a double feature, and peanut butter sandwiches in every child's lunchbox. That leads me to this week's sentence for you to complete.

Whatever happened to...?

Finish the sentence in any way you like. Your addition can be kinky or vanilla, humorous or serious. I'll publish your sentences on Saturday.
From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

From the Top Shelf - Heatherton Hall, chapter 3b

We have come to the final segment of  "The Ladies of Heatherton Hall". You may recall that last week, Gwyneth got into some hot water while protesting the building of beach houses on the island. She was sentenced to a birching, which Josh promised to deliver in private. She was sent out of the room to prepare herself, and now she is ready.
She arrived in the company of her maid, minutes later, wearing a short silk dressing gown. Josh whistled to himself as she disrobed. Underneath she wore only a brief camisole and tap pants which put her lean legs and curvy figure on full display.

There was a knock and Josh opened the door for Mrs. Finch. She held a birch, but it was different. It was short, maybe eighteen inches long.

“That is not a regulation birch rod,” announced the deputy, frowning. “She won’t even feel two dozen with that.”

“We do not have a frame here,” said Josh. He looked Gwyneth in the eye. “So she is going across my knee. The tradition requires appropriate punishment. She has behaved like a child, and so it is appropriate that she be punished like one. This, as I understand it, is called a nursery birch. It will do, after I give her a sound spanking with the flat of my hand.”

At that, the deputy’s face broke out in a broad smile. The humiliation of seeing Lady Gwyneth treated like a ten-year-old by a man her own age was too delicious.

“Please proceed, sir,” she said with a smug grin.

Meanwhile, Gwyneth was aghast. A spanking? She had been prepared to take a dozen with the rod, but to be spanked like a child? Just like her cousins? And by this man? She went hot and cold at the same time. Her stomach did flips and her limbs were shaking. She watched as the new master of Heatherton Hall slid an armless chair out from the wall. He took Gwyneth by the hand and led her to the chair. Seating himself, he drew her face down across his knee, arranging her so that her bottom was arched up prominently.

The feel of her body was electrifying, and the sight of her—the lean legs, the tiny waist, the shapely bottom straining against silky tap pants pulled tight. He was getting an uncomfortably stiff erection. Her groin pressed against his. She could probably feel it. But the piece de resistance came into view when he inserted his fingers and peeled down the tap pants. Her bottom was breathtaking—two rounded globes, set off from the tops of her thighs, with a tight crease between and not an ounce of excess fat.

“Are you ready, Gwyneth?” asked Josh calmly, as if this were an ordinary occurrence.

“Y-yes.” What else could she say? Her body was quivering with twin emotions: embarrassment and something else... excitement? Josh patted the twin orbs, testing their resilience. The flesh was wonderfully soft, yet springy. Then, without further ado, he raised his hand and brought it down with a loud smack, right on the center of her bottom. She gasped and flinched. He smacked her left cheek, then her right. She drew a sharp breath through her teeth and arched her back. Then he launched into a methodical spanking of her bottom in which he scattered the spanks around, covering all of that gorgeous, quivering behind, from the top to the deep overhang of her cheeks, up one side and down the other. Ohhhh, this stings, she thought, and she squirmed involuntarily, fluttering her legs.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Josh’s palm splatted noisily against her fleshy cheeks hard, making each spank count.

Her toes drummed on the floor. The heat in her bottom increased dramatically as the brisk spanks fell in relentless rhythm. I’m across his knee, being spanked, with my bare bottom on display. He can see everything! She could not shake the thought that, although what he was doing to her was mortifying and shameful, her body had betrayed her. It was wickedly sensual. Josh observed her bottom as he spanked. It wobbled deliciously, a pink flush appearing that quickly changed to a deeper shade as he briskly smacked the quivering orbs.

Deputy Beacham smiled. This was good. Look at that. The haughty Lady Heatherton, squirming and flopping over the man’s knee—spanked like a naughty schoolgirl suitably punished. She smiled with satisfaction as she observed Gwyneth’s naked bottom absorbing smack after smack. And from the sound of it, they were good ones, too, solid cracks that made her cheeks flatten, then spring back. Yes, this was a good, sound spanking.

After a few minutes Josh stopped. Gwyneth was breathing heavily. She couldn’t stop squirming. Her rear was throbbing hot. Josh picked up the birch. Gwyneth looked over her shoulder, alarmed.

“I believe it was two dozen, correct?”

Deputy Beacham nodded.

Josh flicked the rod down, swick! Gwyneth flinched and gasped. It was a hot intense sting, different from the spanking.

Again, swick! Again, swick!

Yow, that stung! thought Gwyneth, adjusting to a new sensation. It was a burn like nothing she’d ever felt. Her behind blazed hotter with each sharp stroke, little lines of fire licking her flesh. But as she endured the painful swishing of the short rod, something else was happening. She squeezed her thighs together and wriggled on Josh’s knee. Swick! Swick! Oh! It’s searing. So sharp! she thought. But she also felt a growing wetness between her legs.

After twenty-four carefully measured strokes, it was done. For a moment Gwyneth closed her eyes and slowly writhed across Josh’s lap as he tossed the rod away and sat back. Then he helped her to her feet. Her eyes were wet with tears, her face flushed, and her lip was quivering, but Josh knew she wasn’t really hurt. He had held back. He had put on a show for the deputy and it had worked. As he guessed, she had been more interested in the humiliation that Gwyneth would suffer by being spanked like a child—and that had satisfied her.

The deputy took her leave. Gwyneth was allowed to go upstairs and compose herself.

“Wait,” said Josh to the deputy who had started to take her leave. “I need to go into the village. Tonight is the Island Council meeting. I’ll ride with Deputy Beacham.”

To Lydia Heatherton he said, “I hope to have good news when I return. Tell Gwyneth I’m sorry, but to trust me—it will all work out.”


He returned late. The house was silent. He let himself in and ascended the stairs. As he did, he reflected on how it had gone. Based upon his soil reports and the photographs, the council had enough evidence and declined to issue building permits. The developers were stopped dead in their tracks. At least for now. It would be a long, uphill fight, but he had made up his mind. He’d stay and battle or wage war. For the dowager Countess Heatherton, for Griggs and the servants, for the farmers and shepherds, and for a traditional way of life that was worth holding on to. And for Gwyneth. Especially for Gwyneth. Now, if he could just get the cooperation of a certain Lady Heatherton. She’s probably madder than a wet hen. It was dark in his room, save for moonlight streaming through the window. The faint glow allowed him to see a figure, shrouded in shadow, standing in a dark corner.

“What are you doing here?” he said.

Gwyneth stepped forward, allowing the moonlight to illuminate her luscious form. It was draped in a long, lacy peignoir. Underneath, she was naked.

“I tried to tell you,” she said. “I get terribly randy after a flogging. Even at school, a dose of the slipper would have me all squishylater.” She approached and embraced him, pulling his lips to hers.

The kiss blew the one in the alley away in its intensity. She ground her supple body against his. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Josh was nonplussed. “I stopped the developers,” was all he could think of to say.

She put her finger to his lips. “Shssh. I know. We do have telephones. You can tell me the whole tale later. Right now, I want you. What you don’t understand is that when you heat up a certain part of a girl’s anatomy, other parts heat up, too. Now take me tobed, Joshua Fairchild.”

Josh needed no second invitation. He slipped the peignoir from her shoulders and let it fall. The moonlight bathed her supple form, her hair splayed across her shoulders, shimmering. Her nipples were hard and her belly was flat. A patch of fuzz occupied the sweet triangle at the juncture of her legs. Josh was speechless. All he could do was drink it all in.

Her hands got busy. Buttons flew. His shirt came off and she ran her hands across his shoulders before moving to his belt. He stepped out of his pants and embraced her, lifting her in his arms so he could carry her to the big four poster bed. She moaned as his lips explored her from her knees to her neck. She reciprocated by taking his erect member into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

The new master of Heatherton Hall put Lady Gwyneth on her back and moved between her legs. Her hand found his penis and guided it in. She had been ready. So ready. He slipped in effortlessly and she moaned in pleasure. Propping himself up on his hands he began to move, a slow reciprocating motion, sliding in and out. She closed her eyes and let the waves of ecstatic pleasure wash over her as she moved beneath him, matching his thrusts with her own counterthrusts. The motion built from a slow, sensual grinding to a full-on thrashing of bodies, seemingly out of control. They were blinded by sensations that erupted in a shattering climax and left
them both limp and dazed.

But only for a few moments. When he began again, it was slower, less frantic, but no less intense. She straddled him and rode him, up and down. When she tired of that, she got on her hands and knees so he could enter her from behind, his belly lightly slapping the luscious bottom he had spanked so soundly earlier in the evening. She didn’t care. It was glorious.


The sun streamed through the window. Josh awoke to find the gorgeous Lady Gwyneth Heatherton still in his bed, asleep. He put his feet on the floor, pushed up, and strode to the window. He looked out. The sun was shining, the air was pure, the hills were green. A breeze off the ocean blew some wispy remaining fog across treetops in the distance. From far away he could hear the faint sounds of sheep bleating as they were led out to pasture. So. The Earl of Carlisle. It had a nice ring to it. I think I’ll stay a while, he thought.

I wish we could stay longer too, but alas, this is the end of the tale.
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, April 23, 2018

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 22

What was your first adult spanking like?

Roz: I can't quite remember how the conversation happened now, but we talked about spanking early in our relationship and it was a surprising easy and fun conversation.

Spankings started for us in the realm of play. If I recall, I don't think there was too much to the first one, but being the first it was exciting and the intensity increased with subsequent spankings.

Windy: Like Roz's story ,we started out with play one day. Somehow a ping pong paddle ended up in our bedroom. hehe And one of us (me), might have asked him to use it during sex. Very light, but so exciting for the first time. The very first "planned" spanking was very much talked about ahead of time, hurt when it happened, and then led to other intimate activities.

Anon 1: The first adult spanking was while dating an older woman, lived in the same apartment complex. I lived in the unit above hers and we would say hi, small talk and then it become more than small talk. We soon would be going out to dinner, she would joke with the waiters that I was her nephew, solved a lot of problems. Being young and wanting to have fun I started doing “stupid” things and she was for it, to a point. We decided to go to the coast, her boss had a place we could stay and off we went. It was the third day, I slept in, we had been having sex, and when I walked into the kitchen she had a stern look on her face. The previous night out to dinner I got a little carried away, and so I stood there trying to explain. Childish behavior she said standing up, will not tolerate that young man, soon she had a grip on my arm and I was taken back to the bedroom, No way I said, realizing what she was going to do, and before I could say anymore she sat on the bed had me across her lap and my bottom she bared. Her hand really stung, but the hairbrush got my attention. When she stood me up, going to improve, yes I said rubbing a very sore spanked bottom. Thinking it was over, she stood up, told me off with the pj’s and best get to the kitchen. I faced the wall, she said nothing. I was spanked a few times more, did not matter where we were.

Yorkie: My first adult spanking was at the hands of my then fiancĂ©, now my wife, and it was a play spanking where we spanked each other. I loved it of course but she wasn’t enamoured by it at all but was far more open to it then than she is now ironically.

I much prefer our arrangement these days... Last night’s was absolutely divine.

Sir Wendel: Shortly after we met the Misses and I started a discussion about the spankings we used to get from our parents. Figured we were both interested after that so the first opportune moment I took her across my lap and gave her a good spanking. She enjoyed it so several more followed. On one of her girl’s night out evenings she stepped out of the shower and called me into the bedroom. She placed a chair out in the open and pulled a rather firm looking paddle out of the closet. She told me that I would be getting a severe spanking to ensure I behaved while she was gone. She sat down naked and pulled me across her lap. Then I got the first few whacks. The sting was wonderful. The paddling went on for a bit, not sure how many whacks but when it was over every inch of my bottom was sore. It was rather uncomfortable all night but I had a smile on my face. A few days later I was over her lap again getting another paddling.

Bonnie: I convinced a high school boyfriend to spank me, but let's decide that doesn't count. My first college spanking was with Randy. I've told this story before, but the short version is that we were playing in bed and decided to try a spanking. Needless to say, it was a resounding success. We pretty much never looked back.

Anon 2: It took a few tries to get it right. Irene was never reluctant to spank me, but she didn't understand for a while that I craved an extended and intense experience, and that a bit of lecture added to the whole thing.

She did give me a memorable paddling with a hairbrush on our honeymoon. We were staying in a cabin in the mountains - it was winter and we were cross-country skiing. There were several other cabins not far away.

We were about to go to the cafeteria for dinner when she told me it was time for a spanking. She told me to take off my pants and went after my bottom with the hairbrush. Boy, did it ever hurt, but not so much I wanted her to stop. It just got hotter and hotter. When she finally stopped she ordered me to stand in the corner with my hands on my head. While I was standing there, all I could think was how lucky I was that I had married a great woman, but that she was unafraid to indulge in my sexual proclivities. We had a wonderful "roll in the hay" (as we sometimes call it) after dinner.

That was in 1982. Since that time, she has come to enjoy spanking me as much as I enjoy getting it - maybe more.

And we kicked things up a few notches after the kids went off to college 10 years ago. The spanking etc. and sex is better than ever.

Amy: I was barely an adult, 18 and living with my 22 year old boyfriend. He came home from work and found me on the porch smoking a cigarette. I hid it behind my back and he could see the smoke rising up behind me. He asked about it and I lied. Next thing I knew, he had me over his shoulder, spanking me the entire time he was carrying me in the house. That was my first spanking ever and it resonated deeply within me. I wanted MORE.

Ronnie: We were on holiday and I read some throwaway paperback with spanking in it. I showed P the extract and he said it seemed to have done her some good. I think that was probably the first time P ever mentioned it, the actual determined act of spanking, and told him I agreed. Then later the same day he spanked me, we'd been out to some barbecue place where there was dancing and free flowing wine. Anyway to cut it short when we got back to our chalet I got spanked, it was fairly hard (or so I thought at the time) but exciting and led to other intimate activities.

Hermione: It happened with my ex. He had built a piece of furniture—totally vanilla—which I thought perfect for the purpose, so I came out and asked him if he would spank me over it. He complied, although I don't believe he was entirely comfortable about it. It didn't last too long, and we both laughed a lot, from nerves. My takeaway was that it hurt a lot more than I thought it would, but I had broken the ice on the topic and was game to try it again.

Thank you all for revealing your past experiences.
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #224

I'm delighted that you could make it to our regular weekend get-together. Help yourself to some refreshments, find a seat, and let's get started.

Think back to your very first adult spanking. How did it come about? Was it what you had expected? Was it satisfying or disappointing? How long was it before you repeated the experience?

Leave your response as a comment, and I will publish a summary of our conversation after everyone has had a chance to speak.
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, April 20, 2018

Friday FAIL

No Complete the Caption this week, as I have been immersed in tax returns. My dogs have been helping me by sitting on my lap when I'm typing, and running off with any T4s they can reach. So  here are some excellent dog-related FAILs.

Have a great weekend!
From Hermione's Heart

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

From the Top Shelf - Heatherton Hall, chapter 3a

Let's continue with Rollin Hand's novelette, "The Ladies of Heatherton Hall". Last week, two young ladies felt the force of the Earl's paddle on their posteriors. Who will be in line for punishment this week? Read on!
A day later the cousins were back on the ferry and headed to the mainland. Now that the incident was over, Josh’s attention returned to the problem that had been foremost in the minds of them all before the ruckus in the pub—the developers and their impact upon Oakton Island.

“Let me ask you something,” said Josh as they watched the ferry pull away. “Just how is it that they can build here—especially on the beach? Who decides if they get building permits?”

“The Island Council. They decide. While my father was alive he had tremendous influence, but now .... ” She shrugged. It was a defeated look.

Of course. With the old man gone the vultures had moved in.

“And instead of going to the council you engage in useless protesting with a bunch of kids from the mainland?”

Gwyneth pouted. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it? Creating a riot, that’s helpful.”

“You have a better idea?”

“I do. You’ve got me wrong. I maybe can help you. Show me where they want to build.”

So Gwyneth drove him out there. It was as Josh suspected. The developers wanted the homes directly on the beach or on bluffs overlooking it. They were building for view, ignoring the soil conditions and building on areas that were inherently unstable.

“Would they bother if they couldn’t get beachfront property?”

“No. It’s the beach that they want.”

“Okay,” said Josh, who had brought tools and a camera, knowing what he intended to do. It was Sunday, with no one around, so they could move about taking soil samples and photographing the building sites.

“What will this accomplish?” said Gwyneth.

“It’s evidence. I’ll get these analyzed. In the meantime, no more protests. Got it? We’ll do our fighting in the council.”

“Oh, yes, Your Highness,” said Gwyneth with some sarcasm. But she was warming to the handsome American. And now, after all that had transpired, he seemed more invested in her and her family and the land.

“I mean it. If I’m the Duke of Earl or whatever around here, they’ll have to listen to me, but I don’t want that authority undercut by any shenanigans on your part.”

“The duke of what?” said Gwyneth, puzzled. “You are the Earl of Carlisle. It’s a hereditary title— there’s no Duke of Earl .... ”

“It’s just an expression, okay? Look, I mean what I said. Don’t undermine my efforts by acting out with those neo-hippies from the mainland.” He decided to yank her chain. “Besides, don’t forget that you can go ‘on report’ too. I took notes the other night.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she said in a huff. But at the same time she blushed at the thought of the handsome American taking her to task. Just like her cousins. She licked her lips nervously. Over his knee, skirts up, her bottom bare, his sturdy palm smacking her, soundly teaching her... obedience. She shook her head to try and cast that thought away.

The next day Josh took his samples and got on the ferry. It took him a week to get the soil samples tested and the physical layout analyzed, but the results were conclusive. The soil was too unstable, too prone to shifting. In the space of two or three years, beach erosion on the bluffs would cause those houses to fall into the ocean. He procured an official report and returned to Oakton Island, ready to appear before the Island Council. He had to hurry. The meeting was that night.


But he arrived back at Heatherton Hall only to find a distraught Lydia Heatherton.

“It’s my granddaughter. She’s been arrested.”

This was not good. Just when he had the evidence in hand. “Why?

What did she do?”

“Oh dear,” she said. “I’m told it was a protest. Things got rather out of hand, I’m afraid. She threw a rock at the developer’s building. They saw her. It broke a window right out. There was other damage, too. Lots of them have been arrested.”

Josh ran his hand through his hair. Well, that’s just great. And with the council meeting tonight.

“That’s not the worst,” said Lydia. “You were away, so she’s been sentenced to the birch along with some others. Please. You must go there. Do something. Listen, as the earl, you have influence. You must use it. The Heathertons have always been immune from the local justice—- with the proviso that the earl must dispense appropriate justice here. This right has been exercised to spare the family from becoming a public spectacle. But of course you already know that,” she said, now recalling the incident with the cousins.

“If you don’t act, she will be strapped to the frame in the police station and whipped. The papers will pick it up. We’ll be humiliated.”

“But then, I have to punish her, don’t I? Only here, in private?”

“If sentence has been passed. A deputy constable may act as witness to see that justice is carried out. But, yes, here in the study, just like the other night.”

Josh took a deep breath. He’d been half kidding when he’d made the “on report” threat. There was no help for it now, though. He’d have to carry through. And just when he thought things were getting interesting between him and the nubile Lady Gwyneth.

“Come with me, Lady Heatherton. Let’s go get Gwyneth.”


They were about to come for her. Gwyneth sat in the cell she had occupied for a day. The hearing had been perfunctory. She wasn’t surprised. With her father dead, the constabulary had been compromised by the influence of the developer’s team, all of whom were positively gleeful at the prospect of a humiliating whipping for a Heatherton. She heard footsteps clomping down the hall. This was it. In minutes she’d be strapped over the frame, her bottom bare, while a swishy birch whistled through the air and delivered its stinging message of pain.

Two constables and a matron appeared. Gwyneth shivered. It was the one they talked about. Beacham. Bess Beacham. The one who whipped the girls. She wore a tight-lipped smile, one that said that she relished her job.

“You’re to come with us, Lady Heatherton.”

On shaky legs, she got up to follow. She’d seen the birching frame, a wooden apparatus over which prisoners were bent, secured with stout straps to hold the condemned still while the buttocks were forced to arch out, presented prominently for the birch.

Several protesters had been arrested and sentenced, and those sentences were now being carried out. She had heard the opening and slamming of cell doors, the vocal protests, and then silence—until the whine of the rod and yelps of pain had echoed down the hall.

So they took her. But they headed up front, not to the room in the back where she had heard the swish and thwack of the birch, the cries of pain, and the pleas for mercy. Instead of the dreaded punishment chamber, they emerged in the hearing room, where she was greeted by the sight of Josh Fairchild and her grandmother, Lydia.

They addressed a magistrate. Josh made his statement. “We are here to take Gwyneth Heatherton. We invoke the traditional custom. I understand that she has been sentenced to two dozen strokes of the birch rod for vandalism. I assure you she will be duly punished by the Earl of Carlisle in private.”

The chief constable nodded to the magistrate. Apparently he had been informed by Officer Robinson after the cousins’ incident. Josh explained who he was, backed up by letters from the solicitor and by Lydia Heatherton. Everyone in the room looked at each other as if deciding, but in the end, tradition held. “I will release her to you, sir. But Deputy Constable Beacham will accompany you. Just to act as witness to see it’s done right.”

Josh nodded and looked at Gwyneth. The color had drained from her face as she realized that the fate in store for her might be even more mortifying than she had thought.

It was a silent ride in the car back to Heatherton Hall. Gwyneth sat in the rear with Deputy Beacham. From time to time Josh caught Gwyneth’s eye in the rear view mirror and she quickly looked away each time, clearly ashamed and embarrassed. And nervously awaiting the fate in store for her, very soon, it seemed.

They arrived and got out of the car. Lydia took her granddaughter’s arm. “You brought this upon yourself, dear, so I suggest you prepare yourself.”

“But, Granny,” she hissed, “he’s a MAN.”

“Yes, he is, dear,” she said, patting her granddaughter’s arm.

“Yes, he is.”

Josh took her by the arm as they walked to the front door. “Trust me,” he whispered. “Follow my lead and it won’t be so bad.”

“But I have to tell you something,” she said under her breath. “I get... ”

“Tell me later,” said Josh. “Afterwards. Now scoot.” And he patted her rear to hurry her along. He heard her gasp.

Josh sought out Mrs. Finch and gave her instructions. Then he joined the rest of them in the library where they waited for Gwyneth, who had gone upstairs to prepare herself.
I'm afraid we have run out of room, and will have to end this saga next week.
From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Punished, as a boy

We have been enjoying The Terror, a television series about the doomed Franklin expedition of 1845 to find the northwest passage to India. It is based on fact, but there has been a fair bit of the supernatural added to turn it into something of a horror movie. We know that there were no survivors, which makes it quite sad to watch. (Several expeditions later searched fruitlessly for the lost party, but it wasn't until 2014 that Erebus, one of the two ships in the expedition, was found. Terror was finally located in 2016.)

Last week's episode was entitled "Punished, as a boy" and naturally that set my pulse racing, as I'm sure it did yours when you read the title of this post. In the episode, three of the sailors committed various infractions which caused the captain of Erebus to sentence them to 12 lashes each with the cat o'nine tails. The ringleader argued, which raised the sentence to 20, then 30 lashes, and finally, that he should be "punished, as a boy".

The next scene begins with a closeup of the naked back of one of the miscreants, striped with blood. It is now the turn of the ringleader. He is shirtless, and is led to a wooden bench, bent over it, and bound. Then the captain orders that he be "punished, as a boy". At that, his breeches are pulled down to expose his bare buttocks (which we don't see). Obviously, the point of being whipped across the bum instead of across the back, as a man would be, is to add humiliation to the punishment. The flogging begins, and the viewers watch the culprit's face, and hear his muffled groans and gasps. It is only when the flogging is over that we see his naked, striped bum. He then staggers off to the ship's doctor, who tends to him.

The scene was done tastefully enough, and Ron remarked during it that I was seeing a really good spanking. I agreed, although it wasn't much of a turn on for me because I am not fond of seeing violent beatings or blood. Still, I thought you might be interested.

In closing, I want to share with you what is considered by some to be Canada's second national anthem. Listen to the late, great Stan Rogers sing "Northwest Passage".

From Hermione's Heart