Searching revisited

Is this a slipper which I see before me? As Macbeth might have asked. I think it might just be, or maybe it's more accurate to call it a sandal. 
Whatever it is, it looks a lot like what I'm looking for. I saw this pic just now at the excellent All Things Spanking and now I want my bot to be next in line to get spanked with that slipper/sandal thingy.
PS Do you ever get those days when you should be working and you try to work, but some part of your brain just can't stop thinking about spanking? I don't know why, but I feel like my SQ is off the scale.

Cinderella search

Finding the right slipper is more difficult than you'd think. In fact, it's like the opposite of Cinderella.
They tried that slipper on hundreds of girls before finding the perfect fit. I've tried hundreds of slippers, but never quite discover my idea of perfection.
This is a very British thing, I know. The rest of the world probably thinks we're weird using footwear to spank naughty bottoms with, but in the days of school CP it was the entry-level spanking implement of choice at most schools.
So it is very much part of my spanko psychology. You misbehave, you go to fetch the slipper. The problem is that in my experience you just can't get slippers that do the job properly.
Now if you haven't tried it, a good slipper punishment is quite something. For me it's as satisfying as good fast food - other meals may be closer to art, but fast food is just what you need when you need it.

A good slipper smarts like the devil, reddens efficiently and makes a big, scary sound. It doesn't leave much in the way of marks (good if you're off to the pool tomorrow) and it is an innocent object to have sitting around the bedroom, although a pair is less likely to raise suspicions than just the one.
But not every slipper has it in it to be a spanking slipper. Many are called, but few make the grade. Most are way too light and have been made using the wrong sorts of materials.

For me it has to be a thick rubber sole with a smooth surface and just the right amount of upper - not too much, not too little. Plimsolls and sports shoes are so wrong, as are anything suede or with man-made fur on it. 
In my experience it's easier to find a sandal that packs a good spank, but then a sandal isn't really a slipper, is it? Eventually, I'm sure I will go to the ball - I'll find the slipper that is exactly the one of my dreams... and in the meantime it is a good excuse to go to shoe shops.

Home time 5

At last Jo-Jo hung limp over her mother's lap, all fight finally slippered out of her. Her cheeks were a deep, glowing red and there were splashes of pink and purple on her thighs.

“There. I think you'll agree that Joanna has learned a very good lesson, Miss McDuff. Annabel. Haven't you, Joanna?” Jo-Jo struggled to control her breathing and to respond correctly, but couldn't find the words.

Just as she finally opened her mouth to speak she had to squeal instead as the slipper struck full-force for one last time on her right cheek, and one last time on her left. “Come along, my girl! Speak up!”

“Sorry, I'm really sorry,” she babbled. “I honestly, truly won't ever miss doing my homework ever again. Ever.”

She repeated the word ever three times over as her mother pushed her off her lap and pulled her into a standing position.  Jo-Jo's hands went to her burning bottom, but her Mum grabbed her wrists and held them in front of her.

“I'm glad you've learned your lesson, young lady,” she said, a note of tenderness entering her voice for the first time since Miss McDuff's arrival. “This is how it will be from now on, so you'd better buck your ideas up. Now go to Miss McDuff and show her your naughty bottom, and tell her how sorry you are too…”

Jo-Jo shuffled across the room, her progress slowed by the navy knicks around her ankles and by stretched, swollen bumcheeks that burned like fire. When she got to her, the teacher gave her a searching look with her cool blue eyes before signalling that she wanted her pupil to turn around.

“Lift your skirt up then,” her Mum directed and, reluctantly, she did as she was told. Showing her well-spanked bare bottom to her teacher was deeply, deeply humiliating, but it was good to know her suffering was over and done with.

How she longed for the peace of the Guest Room. She felt Miss McDuff's fingers lightly brush across the lower curve of her left bumcheek and it made her quiver. “Couldn't have done a better job myself, Joyce,” the teacher said.

 “Now, there was something else,” she began, and Jo-Jo looked over her shoulder to see Miss McDuff opening her handbag. She took out the piece of green card, folded but still recognisable, and what looked like some sort of belt that was part rolled-up.

A rather thick and well-worn brown belt that had two splits at one end and a sort-of eye at the other. As it dawned on Jo-Jo what the belt might be for she offered up a simple prayer - a prayer that she might be back in that Guest Room. The nice, quiet, boring - but very safe - Guest Room.

The End

 

Home time 4

Jo-Jo had been watching the two women out of the corner of her eye and was horrified at how they seemed to be getting along so well. A cake! This woman is offering to come into my home and beat me on the bottom and you're going to bake her a cake, she thought.

As she became aware of the two of women looking at her, Jo-Jo snapped her eyes back to face forward and began to study the corner in front of her with great care. She wished she could be anywhere else but there, even the Guest Room.

“Joanna, come here young lady,” her Mum said. “I think Miss McDuff is speaking a lot of sense. We have some catching up to do, so come here.” Jo-Jo chose to delay, but was stung into action by a bellowed: “NOW!”

As she turned round she saw that her Mum had moved to sit on the edge of her chair and had taken off one of her slippers. Or to be more precise, house shoes; the pumps were well-worn, but sturdy with a good leather sole that would, she was certain, deliver more of a sting than any slipper.

Mrs Unwin patted her lap and said: “Over you go…”

Jo-Jo moved so slowly that it took a tug to pull her off balance and over her mother's knee. She was a tall girl, taller than her mother, and it took a minute or two for her to be wrestled into position -head well down and her big, round bottom well presented.

She squawked a protest as her skirt was pulled up and out of the way to reveal tight, navy blue school knickers. “Down or not, Miss McDuff?”

“Has to be down, Mrs Unwin. Best to see what you're about. Let me do the honours,” she said, and Jo-Jo wriggled and fought as the teacher crossed the room.

Her struggling intensified as she felt fingers at her waistband. “Noooo,” she pleaded. “It's not fair….” But her Mum kept her clamped in place and with effort Miss McDuff bared Jo-Jo's broad, white buttocks.

“I should have done this ages ago,” said Mrs Unwin, hefting her slipper. As the sole connected with Jo-Jo's bottom it sent of bolt of pain jangling around her nervous system and forced a squeal from her that could have shattered lead crystal.

Katy was wrong. Horribly wrong. A year in the Guest Room would be better than have to endure a single spank, she thought in the moment between smack one and smack two.

Two became a dozen and then 20 and Jo-Jo bucked and struggled. She moved so much that it was hard for Mrs Unwin to get her aim just right, so the slipper connected with the two plump cushions that were her intended targets but also went off track too catching Jo-Jo's thighs.

Mrs Unwin dealt in dozens and paused after each had been applied. After two she took a moment to admire how many red sole prints were decorating her daughter's pale, tight-clenched bumcheeks and to ask: “Will your homework be done in future, Joanna?”  

“Yes, oh yes. I promise,” Jo-Jo screeched, her voice edged with approaching tears.

“Good. What do you think, Miss McDuff, a little more?”

“I think so, Mrs Unwin…” And Jo-Jo was blubbing like a baby as the next dozen peppered the lower slopes of her behind, where bum and thigh meet.

By four dozen Mrs Unwin was amazed to see how the red shoe-shaped blotches had all blended together to be part of an unbroken scarlet. As Jo-Jo cheeks clenched and unclenched she could see that the slipper had even taken its pink blush down into the tender cleft between.

“Had enough, young lady?”

“Uuhhhh, yeff,” gulped Jo-Jo, sobbing and gasping and all spanked out. “Plea, plea dun do it anymore…”

“She's learned her lesson, don't you think?” Mrs Unwin asked Miss McDuff.

The history teacher smiled, delighted to see her most troublesome pupil tamed and - to a degree - sorry for her too. But only to a degree.

“I think it never does any harm to be safe rather than sorry. Personally I add a last dozen…”

Jo-Jo reacted with a great outpouring of sobs and a bucking and wriggling that Mrs Unwin took a moment to quell. But once she had Jo-Jo in place once again she lashed the slipper down on buttocks and thighs with real intent.
(Still some to come)

Pipe and slippers

People say 'he's a 'pipe and slippers sort of man', or at least they did in the days when I was at school and men actually did smoke pipes. Pipe-and-slippers-man is a little over the hill, he's stay-at-home and happier to be reading the paper in his favourite chair than doing anything more taxing.

But don't be fooled - he's still got in him to turn when crossed. And when he does those slippers can be put to use in the blinking of an eye.