Be prepared

A switch and a bared, raised bottom. It looks like someone is about to get their just desserts. From the colour of that blouse I'd say that this penitent is a member of the Girl Guides (Britain's Girls Scouts) and she's wearing the uniform that was current in the 1980s.

The tent and the sleeping bag suggest summer camp. Someone has sneaked into town to stock up on cigarettes, which is not acceptable in a disciplined organisation like the Guides. The movement's motto is 'Be Prepared', so maybe the switch had been cut and trimmed on the day of arrival - a warning to anyone who dares to trangress.

Although, the scouting movement is all about making do in the great outdoors. So improvisation is all and finding bottom-spanking implements wherever and whenever would be part of that. 

If I can trust Wikipedia on this, the first handbook for Girl Guides was called How Girls Can Help to Build Up the Empire and it explained that the motto summed up how members have to be prepared at any moment to face difficulties and dangers by knowing what to do and how to do it.

Personally I passed on the whole uniform thing. The people didn't seem that cool and being bossed around didn't look like fun. But with hindsight maybe I missed something

If the danger is a whippy switch how can you be prepared? Surely, all she can do is clench, hold on and weather the storm.

Must try harder

If it was a school project I'd be in trouble. Progress is so poor I reckon there'd be a 'see me after school' scribbled in red at the bottom of my work (and perhaps more red on my bottom too).

But the truth is I've not had much time over the last few weeks to do much of my ongoing novel. Significant Other is always at work and the kids have all sorts of time-consuming and important things happening in their lives.

But Project Begsi is there in my mind when I'm coming and going doing other things. Or at least a sense that I'm letting the project down - I must give myself a good talking to.

What I need is to set a me-day aside and really get back into it - to really get immersed in period, story and, hopefully, character. For 'A Week in the Country' it worked well to read as many Victorian novels as I could lay may hands on - both vanilla and not - and to go looking for lots and lots of period erotica. 

I've found it a bit harder to do with the the 1940s. I love the look that found its epitome in the work of Gil Elvgren. His pin-up girls are naughty and nice all at the same time. Or they're unable to not be naughty, however hard they try.

For me, they're the fabulous Forties to a tee. Or is it the fab 1950s? Don't know, but it's fabulous whatever it is.

I can watch period movies too. Vivien Leigh, Bette Davis, Rita Hayworth and the rest. There's plenty of mainstream fiction to read too. But where I can I find the erotica literature of the time? I know there was a war on, but surely somebody was writing naughty novels?

PS Nothing overtly spanko in Elvgren. But when you put his name into Google Image and see rows and rows of his pin-ups there are lots and lots of archly out-thrust bottoms that look to me to be asking for a firm smack.

Now, listen to me...

And if I have my way that's exactly what you're going to GET.

Checking it out

If you like being spanked, you'll like to see your bottom well-redened. Or perhaps it's just me?
Post-punishment I simply can't wait to look. Better still get the nearest mirror and study the damage - less strain on the spine. 
In fact, I know I'm a bit too keen. Significant Other isn't entirely supportive of all this spanking business and thinks I let it get out of proportion. That it should be part of our sex life, but only part.
There's an unspoken understanding that it will only be tolerated if it doesn't t become the tail that wags the dog. So, I'm in bad books if I hop out of bed too soon and start examining my behind in the wardrobe mirror.
What tends to happen is that I make the excuse that I have to go to the toilet and hurry off for a quick viewing in the mirror there. Mind you, a really well-marked bottom can be enjoyed for days, can't it?

Born or made redux

If you were an early-starter like me you'll probably know that feeling of knowing that you deserve a spanking, but having nobody around to deal with the situation. Brat away all day, but there's no chance that you'll get what you know you need.

When, and where, I grew up it was usually called a good hiding. As in, "are you asking for a good hiding..?" Of course, this phrase was meant as threat and warning, but it was an empty one. Inside I'd be saying an emphatic, but frustrated, yes.

A good hiding place...

There's a great post over at The Spank Shop that I can really relate to. Ronnie describes so well some of the confusing feelings that Iwent through  myself around the whole spanking thing during my teens, and earlier. In fact, as early as I can remember - as I've said before I'm pretty sure I was born the way I am.

Born, not made. And the little poll I've had running over the last few weeks suggests that among visitors here early-starters are in the majority.

Here's the stats. Of the 73 people who took the time to vote (thank you for that), 54 per cent put themselves in the under 10 category and another 24 per cent opted for 24 per cent.

The young adult category at 15-25 got 13 per cent, which leaves just five votes - or six per cent - in the over 25 band. So, it seems I'm with the majority.

I suppose this majority says nothing about the born/made debate. It could be that whatever happens to make spankos has happened so early in life to the 54 per cent that we've forgotten that trigger experience, whatever it might have been.

...a good hiding

Mind you, it occurs to me that if the made theory is the right one then spankos should be heading the way of the dodo. Here in the UK 30 years or more have passed since the time when CP was used in schools and spanking was an everyday thing in most homes, so what I'm calling trigger experiences are now not part of the lives of impressionable youngsters.

If that's right then spankos should be a dying breed. Which isn't the impression I get.

More motorway

Eating up the miles - and the fuel, sadly - and now I'm taking a tea break. I've just been browsing through a cool image blog called Spanking Art (which does what it says on the tin) and have picked this pic for the next hour or so's bit of the journey. 

Remember those writing exercises they gave you in school? Here's a picture, now write a story about it. 

And this is the one for this afternoon. It's a school setting, clearly. Miss Slim, the Vice-Principal (Discipline), is just about to apply the cane. But why is the girl in the corner looking so please? If she's going to get the same surely she'd be lookling a little more worried.

If it's any good maybe I'll make it a short story and share it with the world here.

Driven to spank

Long car journeys and spankoness seem to go together as far as I'm concerned. When I'm on my own, that is. Yesterday I spent three hours driving to a meeting and three driving back, which is a long time to sit on your own listening to the radio.

But all that time can be a marvellous resource - lots of time to let the spanko imagination run free. I've had little time over the last couple of weeks to do any fiction writing, but yesterday I got through a couple of chapter of Beryl Gets Stuck In.

Of course, the problem now is getting all of that stuff out of my head and onto paper. I'm off on the road again in a minute or two, and will be again at the weekend. So there's no time for writing (and very little for blogging for that matter).

Perhaps I should dictate it as a drive along. I rather like the idea of sitting in heavy traffic surrounded by other drivers while I'm happily chatting away to myself about naughty girls, early bedtimes, smacked bottoms and the rest. 

Keep it in your pants..?

I don't know where I read it, but the phrase has stuck in my mind. It was something like, when I look at a spanking image I don't want someone else's genitals shoved in my face.
It wasn't a critique of this blog, but of spanking-related blogs as a whole. And it made me think about the images I use - are they too full on?

Personally, I have no problem with the face-genitals interface. It's what faces and genitals are all about, isn't it. But it did make me revisit what a blog is all about - are the images there for the edification of the blogger or for the reader? If I like anatomically detailed images, but readers prefer not to see the bits and pieces what shoud the blog's "policy" be?

For me a good spanking can't be a good spanking without a bare bottom. And so genitals are part of the deal, that may not to be to every taste. What do you think, I'd be interested to know?

Newspaper ethics addressed

Half listening to the radio a moment ago and an interviewee used the phrase "extremely strict regime". My attention locked on to what she was saying - it turned out she was talking about editorial standards at Rupert Murdoch's new Sunday paper.

But my imagination was off... "You'll find, Miss Willings, that you will be subject to an extremely strict regime of oversight while you're working with us," the Editor said, as they crossed the open plan newsroom.

Sarah paused and looked around her as her new boss strode on ahead. She was used to working in newspaper newsrooms, but found The Daily Bugle's a rather strange one - little noise, heads down and no banter.

The Editor looked back, found she had fallen behind and said: "Come along, keep up please..."

Stung into action by the steely tone Sarah hurried to fall into step as they moved into a corridor of glass-fronted office cubicles and meeting rooms. When they arrived at the open door to the Editor's office she heard a loud crack, followed by a cry that was somewhere between a curse and a howl.

It seemed to Sarah to be a female voice and to come from the room opposite the Editor's door. Unlike others along the corridor its door was wood rather than glass and was shut; a small 'do not disturb' notice was hanging from the door handle.

Sarah was puzzled by the sound. Her first thought was that someone had hit their thumb with a hammer. Building work, maybe?

But then that sound again, this time followed by a long, howl of discomfort. She looked to the Editor questioningly. "As I said, Bugle standards are high. Reporters are subject to an extremely strict regime..."

Mary Lou, part 2

On the subject of Eric Stanton, a helpful emailer pointed me in the direction of two useful pages. The first is on Amazon, where someone is selling an original copy of 'Mary Lou Burnem School Disciplinarian' for $15. Probably a must-have if you carry the collector gene.
But given that I'm careful with my money by nature (Scots blood I think - I also have a fondness for porridge and the tawse, though preferably not at the same time) I'm planning to catch up with Mary Lou's story via a site called Azotainas eroticas, which turns out to be a great online library of things spanko. Happy reading.

The Mary Lou look

As character name's go Mary Lou Burnem is hard to beat. Over the years I've come across lots of the Mary Lou images here and there on websites, but I've never been able to see them together as a coherent comic story.

In my (admittedly brief) quest for info about Mary Lou's creator Eric Stanton I've just come across a post at the blog Crankyspanker that has shaken my belief that he was working long, long ago.

Stanton's drawings - including the Mary Lou ones - have a 1960s feel to them, but Crankyspanker says that the comics were actually self-published in the 1980s. Another Country remembers the 1980s well and is certain that they are not yet history.

So a bit more surfing on the subject and it turns out that Stanton - real name Ernest Stanzoni - only passed away in 1999. Apparently he worked on mainstream comics, before striking off on his own tack into the dark world of fetish.

I love his spanking stuff, it has an energy and verve that jumps off the page. The typed captions and sketchy style make it all look very homemade. His FF stuff is full of life and fizz, and there's lots of FM too. 

My one niggle with Stanton style is the way he draws his male characters - their bottoms are often very girly... Not quite right.If anyone knows where I can find the whole Mary Lou story do please let me know.

Good accounting practice

What's the etiquette here? I'm getting ready to go out to a meeting and running late. I'm dressed, but have decided to leave my trousers off until the last moment - that way I can't pick up any dog hair (a Jack Russell terrier, by the way).

I'm running around the house in my pants - rather nice ones as it happens - looking for my Blackberry when the land line rings. I pick it up expecting Significant Other, but it turns out to be my accountant...

I've switched accountancy firms recently and they're calling to ask if I'm satisfied with their service. I then have a 10 minute conversation about keeping the books with a man I've never met.

So, what's the etiquette? Working from home can be a bit of a problem when it comes to a dress code. One freelancing friend tells me she puts on a business suit (to feel 100 per cent professional) while another happily admits to slobbing around in a dressing gown until well after lunch.

I'm somewhere in the middle most of the time - jeans, T-shirt, trainers. Though I may now experiment with making the working day more interesting by adding a little nudity now and then.

Born to rule

A passing thought - aren't the women on top in the world of F/M a glamorous breed. Poised, confident and nearly always perfectly turned out.

I've just spent 10 minutes looking at a nice picture blog called Who's sorry now? and it struck me that the Fs in all this F/M are women I'd happily vote into No. 10 Downing Street, the Oval Office and whatever.

They look capable, and that's something I find reassuring.

Back in touch

The joy of it. The engineer has paid his visit (anyone else remember that song that went "...hey baby, I'm your telephone man...") and he has restored my connection with cyberspace!

It was a fault on the line apparently and now the line is faultless. We don't get much down the broadband "pipe" here in our rural idyll, but what we do get, I've now got back.

At a stroke my download speed is ten times better than it was. And that means all sorts of things are do-able again. Things like wasting hours watching naughty videos or whiling away an afternoon at either Olderoticart or Wickedknickers - or both.

As it happens I've been able to get quite a bit of work done over the last few days. I've been hammering away at the keys in a very productive fashion. A fact that was perhaps not unconnected to my state of disconnection.

Searchword puzzles

Life remains on go-slow until the engineer comes tomorrow to fix our broadband. It's a hardware issue, apparently.

In the meantime blogging is more pain than pleasure (and not in a good way) because every action takes ten times as long. Which means that this post doesn't waffle on on like most of the rest do.

What I wanted to share with you was today's off-the-wall searchword concept. I find it fascinating to see the search terms that people use. And to try to fathom what was going through their minds when they typed them into the little Google box.

Today's puzzle is: volleyball dominatrix. OK, I can see that you might have an interest in either one topic or the other, but at the same time?

A state of (dis)connection

My broadband continues to drive me crazy. Lots of calls to my ISP and several apparent cures, but again it's back to being seriously unwell. It seems I have about a tenth of the download that I should be getting on this phone line, and even that is a fraction of what most city-dwellers take for granted.

Our fault for choosing to live at the end of anywhere, I suppose. But it really ticks me off that this fraction-of-a-fraction service I'm getting is charged at the full rate.

Anyway, you don't want to hear my moaning. The point of this is to say that this blog may not get the loving care it usually enjoys. While I'm gone here's a nice picture.

PS Happy Valentine's Day. May your red roses be rosy - and your cheeks rosier still.

Redhead redux

I think the redhead issue is settled and that this is now Beryl. Thank you for the various suggestions. I was directed by an anonymous well-wisher to this image and was immediately convinced - add the Land Girl uniform and its a done deal.

I'm not sure if she's a good Christina H lookalike or if this is this a first-class example of what you can do with an hour to kill and a bootleg copy of Photoshop. But this is the picture I need, my picture wall is complete. Just what I needed.

A little 'help' from our friends

Sunday morning and the whole house needs cleaning from top to toe. I've just been reading yesterday's paper and eating breakfast in bed (don't those pesky crumbs get everywhere) and discovered that Mr Cameron wants to make it easier for me to employ domestic staff.

Great, the country's going down the pan and the Government think the answer to our problems is to re-invent 'Downton Abbey'. We're to get tax breaks it seems for employing maids, nannies and the like.

Great news for all those millionaires in the Cabinet who are already getting their household stuff down by somebody else, but more 'help' doesn't help the rest of us. I'm a bit worried about how we're going to pay the next electricity bill, so a between-stairs maid will probably have to wait until after my Lottery win.

I suppose all those unemployed young graduates could go into domestic service. I rather like the idea that when Flossie comes to turn down the masters bed she can also discuss endogenous growth theory with him while she's at it. 

Not that I don't like the idea of living an 'Upstairs Downstairs' life. They could get on with the dirty work, while I concentrated on the important stuff - like staff discipline.

Anyway, enough of all this. I'm off to vacuum the stairs.

Redhead, red bottom

Wanted: Smart, pretty redhead (natural, no dyes). Irregular hours, punishing conditions. She must be prepared to take a bare bottom spanking at any time day or night.

I'm having a bit of trouble with my on-going spanko novel. It's that I can't get the pictures right in my head and that's slowing up the writing process. 

The problem is that my picture wall doesn't include my central character, Beryl. A while ago a vanilla writer friend recommended that I stick pictures on the wall next to my work station of people and places to help the imagination to fire on all cylinders (it does help, although I don't have my 'picture wall'on a wall - some are not the sort of pictures you want your granny to see).

The problem at the moment is that for the new novel I've got something for all the characters, except Beryl. She's definitely a redhead, with that sort of pale complexion that offers a perfect canvas for spanking marks, but I can't visualise her other features in detail.

So, today I've been googling for redheads. Some of the information is less than useful. According to Global Spin the world's pre-eminent gingers are Rebekah Brooks and Prince Harry. Both could probably do with a good smacked bottom, but neither is what I'm looking for.

Then I discovered a site that helpfully lists world-class reds. Interesting stuff. I didn't know that the lovely Julianne Moore had written children's books about growing up as a redhead. 

Julianne is a marvel, but she's not Beryl. Nor is the elegant Marcia Cross - Bree from 'Desperate Housewives' -  who does look to me as though she'd make a Olympic gold medal spanker (when the sport gets its rightful recognition).

Christina Hendricks has lots of what I'm looking for. But she's not the real McCoy, just a blonde with a good hairdresser. The best bet seems to be Karen Gillan, but I loathe the whole Dr Who thing so she's tainted by that connection.

So, I'm stuck. Any ideas?

In praise of... Lynn Paula Russell

I love spanking art, but fear I can get a bit obsessive about one to the exclusion of the rest. When I do I probably don't give the rest a fair whack, to use that evocative English turn of phrase.

So over recent weeks I have got a little obsessed with the peerless Roger Benson. I love the Fifties feel and the curvy figures, but am now concious that I've been boring readers with my gush on the subject.

In the interests of fairness then, today's topic is another master of the spanko imagination - or mistress of - Lynn Paula Russell. A talented spanking model, Lynn Russell decided to hang up her naughty knickers and become an illustrator instead.
Inspired by her own experience she went on to become a massive presecence on the spanko scene, feeding the spanko need at a time when - pre-internet - there wasn't that much spanking-related imagery around for us to enjoy. And, she brought a wry, humorous feminine take to what she created - with the woman as participant rather than object. Or that's how it seemed to me, anyway.

Her work was famously featured in the great 'Janus' magazine, where it went a long way to making the title something really special. She was also editor the magazine 'Februs' and her work also enlivened some sex manuals for the vanilla market.

I particulalry like her period work. Historical fiction is my thing and Lynn/Paula's creations are, for me, just right. When she summons up the Victorian country house, with a strict master or mistress disciplining a cheeky maid or errant daughter, every detail is as I'd sketch it myself if I could.

When I was working on 'A Week in the Country' I had some of Lynn's work on my desk by the laptop. They helped me bring my naughty leading lady Flick to life.
If there were Spankoland Oscars the Academy would be unanimous. The lifetime achievement awared would go to Lynn Paula Russell.

PS Is it just me, or does that young lady in the last drawing need to meet up with the guy in the suit a couple of images up? I'd say that after what happened in that alley that bottom should be stripier (is stripier a word?) than the back end of a zebra!

Forgotten memory

Why is it that dreams sometimes dig up memories that would otherwise stay forgotten? It happens to me quite a bit, although I never remember the dreams themselves.

Significant Other has loads of lucid dreams that play through sleep like little movies, but I rarely have any. I'm quite jealous.

What does happen to me is that I wake up and find myself thinking about quite random things. I've come to the conclusion that these thoughts are echoes of dreams that I've had, but not remembered.

Today I woke up and was thinking about a landlady I had a lifetime ago. I don't think I've given the woman a thought in more than 20 years, but there she was clear as day.

I was a second year uni student living in a shared house and we were thrown out by our landlord for having too many rowdy parties. The university's housing office found us all somewhere to live but weren't happy about the situation.

Because they were so unhappy I think we were deliberately given crummy places. Mine turned out to be a shabby little house owned by a grumpy widow in her 50s, who lived with her teenaged son.

I found her a bit creepy and spent as little time in the place as I could. When I wasn't there she'd go into my room and search through my stuff.

But what made me feel especially uncomfortable was the way she was constantly nagging and scolding at the son. He was a little younger than me - perhaps 17 - and went to a technology college.

I don't think he was a good student. Whenever I was there they seemed to be having some sort of dispute. She'd be moaning at him about being late for college, for staying out too late the night before, smoking, wasting his money, or some other wrong-doing.

He didn't seem that phased by it. He'd respond with a grunt or a shrug. It all made me feel uncomfortable to be around, anyone would have found it uncomfortable.

But what it worse was the way she always used the phrase "naughty boy" as she was berating her big, lump of a son. I wasn't that comfortable with my spankoness then and the vibe in that house "did my head in", as I would probably have said at the time. 

The whole thing made me squirm with embarrassment and I moved out within weeks. But thinking about it all once again this morning I was able to re-write the script and cast good-looking actors. Then, of course, the memory became a great little spanko-drama...

Crime and punishment, Benson style

Actions result in reactions. Wrong-doing should result in a well-smacked behind.
I'm enoying a little time looking at some great Roger Benson images - all spanking art masterpieces - and trying to make connections between them. It's as though they deserve to be put one after another and to have speech bubbles added like a cartoon strip.
This top one looked to me like it would add up to a serious misdemeanour in Benson's 1950s play park for spankos. What on earth does this young lady think she's doing? And it's 12.45, presumbly in the morning not in the afternoon. 
That has to be well after curfew, hasn't it? She should have been home hours ago, but instead she's in the kitchen making out.
Whose kitchen is it? His? Or are they at a party?
And I think the picture below looks like the outcome. Or something like it. Mum, aunt or perhaps a dorm mom and she looks very unhapy. 
Personally I'd think this was a situation that called for the hairbrush or the paddle. Something with a bit more bite than a ruler. 
But perhaps the ruler is just a warm-up for the top of the bill act. Anyway, hours of fun (when you should be working on a project that is horribly close to deadline...)

Start the day

Get your hair - and your hat - right and you're ready for the day, yes? Clothes may help too, I suppose... I'm sitting here in my dressing gown enjoying the brilliant Wicked Knickers and thinking about getting dressed and getting on with the day, so this picture caught my eye.

One of the problems about working mostly from home is that there's a temptation on cold days like today to spend the day in your PJs, dressing gown and slippers. It's a slippery slope. Anyway, I digress. The point is that there isn't a point, it's just that I loved this photo and wanted to share.

Spankos: Born, or made?

I'd definitely say born. Making up little doll dramas that involved 'crime' and punishment is one of my earliest memories. In my bedroom super-strict Barbie gave someone a spanking on most nights of the week.

And I can think of no reason why that should have been the case. Kids weren't spanked in our house, although 1970s Britain was a place were corporal punishment was talked about a lot and happened fairly often too.

It's a question that's debated at my house time and again. I don't want to screw up the outcome of the poll on the right, but it's one reason why I put it there. Please take a moment to cast your vote.

When it comes to the nature/nurture debate I'm definitely in the nature camp. I'm pretty certain that I was born with a gene that means that I find CP thrilling.The majority don't have it and can't understand.
Some early occurrence - now forgotten - my have switched that gene on, but if I hadn't been born with it I'd never have become a spanko. I think some people have it, but it's dormant - waiting to be triggered into life.

Significant Other is in the other camp. SO thinks it's all about influences - about environment. The logic of SO's way of thinking is that I've made myself a spanko by first reading spanking mags and novels and, later, by venturing into the online Spankoland.

SO tolerates, but doesn't approve. The implication is that if I made an effort to close my mind to spanko thoughts I'd be transformed magically into a Vanilla.

As I think you know that's not going to happen any time soon... What set me off on this train of thought this morning was Bonnie's post introducing another batch of new spanko blogs. She's got a great way with words, saying: "Someone has definitely been watering in the domestic discipline part of the garden because new DD blogs are popping up all over."

What's going on. SO's environmental theory would suggest that more spankos are being made because there's more spanking-material out their to 'corrupt' them - lots opf watering going on.
I'd say it's that many more people carry the spanko gene than anyone guessed pre-internet. And thanks to the internet they're happier with expressing that fact than ever before.

Thought for the day PS

Should be working, but instead I'm surfing through Spankoland and found that other (great) minds have been pondering the big knicks/small knicks question. Thanks to Devlin O'Neill I now that what I've been calling "big Victorian knickers" are actually pantelettes.

Until recently I had a pair of big victorians - sorry, pantelettes - hidden away at the back of a drawer. The drawers drawer that is. Sadly they suffered damage "in action" and had to be buried with full military honours...

(Spanko) Thought for the day

Fiddly knickers are all very well, but to my mind bigger is nearly always better. (Or perhaps none at all).

Birthday list

Is it too early to start a birthday list? The big day is in May, but if you want to drop a hint that Significant Other will actually catch you do have to get up early in the morning.

It occured to me that the carpet beater (in Dutch, mattenklopper - what a great word - or in German, teppichklopfer) that I was thinking yesterday would look really good in gift paper. Maybe a bow too.
Not a gift to open in front of the kids, of course. But it could live in the garage and come out when there were rugs (or a bottom) to be attended too.
Mind you, I never got the nice wooden hairbrush I was hoping for for Christmas, so I wouldn't put money on SO going mattenklopper shopping any time between now and May. Shame though, buying your own spanking implements doesn't seem quite right.

Leaving a vacuum

Should I give up on the vacuum and start beating my rugs? Looking at them I'd say they could do a great deal better and might benefit from a damned good thrashing...

Household chores

Well anyway, it would give me an excuse to go out and buy a carpet beater wouldn't it. My fight with my ISP seems to have delivered results because after a week of narrowband we're able to do recreational surfing again.

It's a real joy to be able to be wandering around the highways and byways of Spankoland once again. You can't beat the happenstance of just surfing around hopping from page to page, can you?

And tonight I've happened upon carpet beaters. They're not really a British thing, but the beater - or mattenklopper - seems to be part of a European CP tradition.

Before vacuum cleaners they were apparently bought firstly for carpets and, secondly, for naughty bottoms. According to Wikipedia until the 1970s the carpet beater was the domestic spanking implement of choice in Belgium and Holland.

The Wiki article says: "This 'secondary use' earned the carpet beater a special place in Dutch folklore, as a symbol for good housecleaning, conservative family values and childrearing, as well as a symbol for the dominant position of the housemother in traditional Dutch families."

Searching around there seem to be lots of imagery reflecting the carpet beater's special place in the homes and hearts of Europe. I particularly like this one. and this. Of course, the excellent All Things Spanking has the subject covered - and a comment there says the rattan carpet beater "feel like dozens of little canes striking your back side simultaneously". Scary.

That said, it doesn't look like an especially fearsome punishment tool to me. I suppose it's hard to know without giving it a try. Where can I get one, or two - or a whole collection? A bit of googling has found me a nice one for a good price (and made by a German family business who've been at it since 1935 apparently), but have I the guts to buy? I think the carpet beater may be one pervertible that is obviously a bit kinky to even the most innocent vanilla.

Sore loser

'Enjoyed' a night in our local pub last night and have a bad head this morning. Somebody had come up with the idea of playing bingo, a rather quaint British tradition, and we all really got into the swing of the thing in a post-modern, ironic sort of way.

Only problem is that while being ironic I lost rather a lot of money and drank way too much (so now have a hangover). Gambling + heavy drinking should = a spanking. Right? That's how I feel anyway, in need of correction.

PS The broadband problem continues. Upload and download a trickle - and another argument with my ISP to look forward to.

Over my lap now...

... you wicked broadband provider! I'm having all sorts of go-slow problems with my broadband this week, which is coming between me and my online life. Work and pleasure.

Every page takes an eternity to load and it seems especially bad with my two Blogger blogs (this one and my vanilla one). It is infuriating.

The download service we're getting is a disgrace. I'd say that my broadband provider should be ashamed of his/her/itself.

Sadly, all I can threaten is to take my business elsewhere and frankly they don't care one bit. I'm just about to ring to complain once again and am not looking forward to the experience.

But while I'm twiddling my thumbs listening to the on-hold muzak I will enjoy envisaging just how many brush spanks, what position, bare or not and the rest.

If this post actually manages to get published spare me a thought. And wish me luck.

Shame and spanking

'Oh, the shame of it. Stripped bare and soundly spanked...' No, not me - stripped bare and soundly spanked sounds good to me - but my 1940s heroine Beryl.
Working on the Victorian novel 'A Week in the Country' I found shame turning up on a regular basis. It's very much part of the whole Victorian erotic sensibility, isn't it? 

Sort of 'as her bottom was bared she was overwhelmed by the shame of it and covered her face...' It seems to just right for all those disobedient maids, fearsome governesses and old-school squires.

But it seems less appropriate in a 1940s setting. Embarrassment, yes. Shame, no. I don't think Beryl's shameless, but she's a lot more matter of fact about sex, nudity and the rest. If she has to take it on the bare bottom she'll take it on the chin, if you see what I mean.