Tuesday, April 25, 2017

From the Top Shelf - A Master of Discipline, part 14a

Ruth has finally confessed to Tony about her weekend training course, and his response was magnificent. If you have forgotten, read last week's installment here. The next morning she goes to school as usual, but here the story takes an unexpected turn. I will leave you to discover it for yourselves.

Breakfast the next morning was a strangely silent affair. By unspoken consent, neither partner referred to the night before. The only reference made was when the time came to kiss goodbye, as they got into their respective cars to go to work.

"Try and keep that bottom of yours out of trouble today, won't you." Tony smiled at her as he held her car door open. "I'll have to think about how to make an honest woman of you if you keep flashing it off to all and sundry." Before Ruth could think of a suitable response, he had wheeled about and got into his own car.

Tony's comment stayed with Ruth for most of the day. She kept returning to it, wondering if he had really meant to use the phrase he had, wondering if he put the same connotation on it that she did. Living with Tony, which was more or less what she did, was one thing. Marriage was most decidedly another and Ruth was not at all certain she was yet ready to consider it.

Midway through the day, Coral Browne came looking for Ruth again. She was very apologetic and clearly still very embarrassed over what she had overheard the previous day.

"I'm ever so sorry, Ruth," she began, hesitantly. "It does seem that every time Miss Greeves sends me to find you I bring bad news, but I had no idea she was going to do that to you." Ruth blushed, but she could hardly avoid forever the incident that had taken place.

"I probably deserved it." She smiled, trying to reassure Coral, who was obviously almost as unsure of Ruth's motivations as she was of Miss Greeves's.

"You'd better take that as a warning and not do anything to upset Lillian in the near future," Ruth continued. "Otherwise it might be your bottom that suffers next."

"Oh, Ruth, I should die of humiliation! I know I wouldn't be as brave as you and, if my dad ever found out that I'd been beaten on my...on my...well, it would just be the end!"
Ruth knew that Coral still lived with her widowed father.

"Well if the worst did happen, there's no reason why he should find out, unless you tell him. And another thing - what's worse, an embarrassing beating on your bum or losing your job? I suspect he wouldn't be at all pleased if you were out of work. He'd be much more likely to find out that you'd been fired. So you'll just have to behave yourself and take more care, won't you."

Coral did not look very convinced. "I suppose so, but I still think you were very brave. I never thought one of the staff could ever..."

"Which goes to show how little you know." Ruth interrupted. She was tiring of this conversation and certainly did not want to be constantly reminded that she'd been bent over a desk with her panties down like a naughty little girl. "Now what is it, Coral? I am rather busy right now."

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, Ruth. I almost forgot what I had to fetch you for. Miss Greeves says; could you come to her office right now. She has Robin Henderson's father with her and she wants you to meet him."

"Sir Harold Henderson? What does he want and what has it got to do with me?" Ruth's heart sank. She despaired of ever struggling free of the unfortunate incident with her two pupils. It was beginning to hang around her neck like a stone, threatening to blight her career for the foreseeable future. She could only guess that Sir Harold was not fully satisfied with the explanation Miss Greeves had given him, and wanted to make more of it. Suppose he insisted on taking legal action? Her mind began to race. It would mean the end of her career, that was certain, and she was not rich enough to defend a legal action. She could be left without a job and with her savings drained away as well. These, and every other permutation of unpleasant possibilities, went through her mind in the brief time it took for Ruth to make her way to Miss Greeves's office.

Entering the outer office, she heard the sound of voices from the inner sanctum. Bracing herself to face the worst, she knocked on the door and waited. Lillian Greeves herself opened the door.

"Come in, Ruth. I'm glad you were able to spare the time to come and meet Sir Harold."

As if I had a choice, thought Ruth as Lillian stood to one side, beckoning Ruth to enter the room and, at the same time, making a sweeping gesture in the direction of the man who had risen from the self-same chair that Ruth had occupied the previous day. Ruth was taken aback. Lillian's attitude was friendly and Sir Harold Henderson also looked relaxed enough, certainly not like an irate parent about to start a legal action.

"My dear Miss Jamison, such a pleasure to meet you," he boomed, extending a hand the size of a dinner plate. Sir Harold Henderson was instantly recognisable as the father of his son. Like his offspring, he was well over six feet tall, and shared the robust bone structure that gave his son such an attractive, athletic build. Sir Harold was probably in his late forties or early fifties, Ruth judged, and his figure was just beginning to spread. By no means fat, he was carrying just a stone or so more than he would have done in his prime. His son's tan and his carefully coiffed hair were translated into a ruddy complexion, perhaps betraying high blood pressure, and a mane of grey, almost white, hair. He was dressed in a perfectly cut, traditionally styled, lounge suit, which had clearly cost a great deal of money. The rest of his ensemble from his immaculate cream shirt to his highly polished brogues, oozed both high quality and high cost. Altogether, he was an imposing figure, and his hand was dry and warm, with a firm, but not crushing, grip.

Ruth mistrusted men who tried to impress her by squashing her fingers with a handshake as much as she did men with slimy hands. She guessed that Sir Harold felt that he had nothing to prove to the world; he had made good, and presumed that the people with whom he came into contact would also know it, thus he had no need for a false handshake. Perversely, Ruth found herself disliking the man for his overt self-confidence.

"Please sit down, Ruth." Miss Greeves was obviously a little overwhelmed by this larger-than-life figure, and wanted Ruth to sit to encourage Sir Harold to resume his seat and thus not dominate the office quite so effectively.

"Sir Harold and I have been discussing Robin's future," she began. "You know, of course, that he has only one more term left before his final exams, and Sir Harold is concerned that his son's relationship with Nicky Shaw may be prejudicing his chances of success."

Before Ruth could answer, Sir Harold held up his hand, stopping her sentence before it could begin. "I should like to say, before you comment, Miss Jamieson, just how much I appreciate your attempt to put my son on the straight and narrow."

Ruth's jaw dropped in amazement. Could she be hearing correctly? Wasn't this the same man who had complained about the punishment his son had received, and been instrumental in getting Ruth sent to Damocles Priory? An experience about which she still had mixed feelings. Sensing Ruth's bewilderment, he laughed loudly, a discordant braying sound.

"Yes, I know, I did complain about the punishment Robin received when you caught him and that piece of skirt in flagrante, so to speak. But I have since come to realise I was a mite hasty. He deserved what he got, and she most certainly did. I understand from Miss Greeves that everyone concerned, including your good self, may be said to have learned a lesson from that unfortunate affair." He brayed again. "But that is all behind us now, don't you think, Miss Jamieson?"

Ruth tried not to show her feelings but her face felt a little flushed. Her impression of this man was rapidly turning sour. Did she imagine the emphasis on the word 'behind' or was he trying to convey some acquired knowledge of what had transpired? She wondered what Lillian had told him. She trusted Lillian not to betray a confidence but who knows how much this powerful man had bullied out of her, and how much had he guessed? It was clear too, by his contemptuous references to Nicky, that he blamed her for the circumstances which had led to his son's punishment.

"I am certainly glad that you have changed your mind about what happened, Sir Harold," she replied, rather stiffly. "Although I do think you are being a little harsh in your judgment of Nicky Shaw. She is a very well brought-up young lady, and she and Robin actually make quite a good match. It's just that school is not the right place for their relationship to become too serious-"

Sir Harold made a noise in his throat, a cross between a cough and a growl. Ruth got the impression that arguing with his opinion was not going to get her any brownie points.

"That's as may be, "he said sharply, "But I want the boy to do well in his exams without that kind of distraction. That's what I'm here for. I've talked it over with Miss Greeves and it's her recommendation. I must say that, having met you, I agree. I like a young lady with spirit, and I can see you fit the bill."

"Excuse me? I am a little lost. Fit what bill?" Ruth said, bewildered.

"Sir Harold would like a member of staff to provide private tuition for Robin, during the coming break," Lillian Greeves explained. "I said that you might be interested in accepting the commission. Sir Harold is prepared to be most generous," she added, beaming at Ruth.

"Oh, I don't know." Ruth was tempted, to be sure. She earned a good salary from her job, but the prospect of well-paid holiday work would not come amiss, in normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances!

"I really don't know." She was hesitant but decided that the warning voice in her head was right. "No, I don't think so, Sir Harold. Thank you for the offer but I really do feel I need my break. Things have been very hectic over the last few weeks, and I really feel I need a break from teaching for a while."

"Hmm. I was afraid you would say that. I know a little about how hectic your life has been, so I suppose I can't blame you."

Ruth immediately wondered again what Lillian Greeves had told this man.

"I hope you don't regret your decision, Miss Jamieson. If you think you have made a mistake when you leave the office, you can contact me here." and he held out a business card.

Ruth noted with some surprise that the address was very close to Damocles Priory. Misinterpreting her raised eyebrow, he explained tersely, "My summer residence. Always go there at this time of year. If you should change your mind, that's where I should want you to tutor Robin. Live in, of course - private apartment for the duration. You'd be very comfortable. I'd see to that personally, and the salary would be more than adequate. I can be very generous."

I'll bet you can, thought Ruth grimly, but you are also a bully, and I don't think I'd enjoy working for you, not one little bit.

"It sounds delightful, Sir Harold, but as I've said, I have other plans. If there's nothing else, I have a class to take. May I go now?"

This latter was addressed to Lillian Greeves, who indicated with an air of some irritation that the interview was over.

* * *

Ruth wondered for the rest of the day whether she had really done the right thing, but went home happy, convinced that she had. As usual, she abandoned her car in the drive of her little house and went straight in, not thinking to lock it. It was only several hours later, just as the light was fading that she remembered. Quickly she grabbed her keys. I'm damned if I'm getting another spanking tonight, she thought. It's about time we had some good, old fashioned straight sex. Tony is getting just too fond of whacking my bottom!

She opened her front door and looked out. The shadows, from the big trees in the park which bordered her property, blotted out what little daylight remained. It didn't occur to her that her car was actually parked in just about the darkest area and was invisible from the road. She walked over to the driver's side and bent down to insert the key in the lock.

Suddenly a strong pair of arms encircled her from behind. Whoever it was must have been very light on their feet, for she had not heard a footfall as her assailant approached. The realisation that she was in deep trouble came to her just as an evil-smelling pad of cotton was placed over her nose. Frantically, she kicked out, one shoe flying off, but the other making a satisfying thud as it connected with the shins of the person holding on to her.

The grip around her waist slackened momentarily but it was too late - Ruth's world was already spinning away into unconsciousness as her struggles weakened. The last thing that passed through her mind before she blacked out was a sense of outrage that this should be happening to her, and, stupidly, that Tony would not get his dinner on time.
What now? Was this a trick of Tony's to frighten her into remembering to lock her car? (No remote control, then, to lock it from within the safety of her flat.) Will Ruth be tutoring Robin whether she likes it or not?We shall find out next week.
From Hermione's Heart

Monday, April 24, 2017

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 23

Are the children of today curious about spanking? Will the next generation contain more, fewer, or the same number of spankos?

Wilma: Interesting thought. I wonder if we will have more, that's my guess.

kdpierre: Great question and observation. Since no real study has been done, anything we observe is strictly anecdotal...but even that can lead to accurate observation.

My feeling is that the lack of 'real' spanking might actually result in more sexual spankos later on. The absence of conflicting feelings stemming from unpleasant childhood memories could actually enable a healthier view of the activity.

And I've never agreed with psychologists who insisted the fetish had to originate in a childhood experience. I think the interest in experiencing pain during pleasure, toying with control, focusing on behinds, are all perennial elements of sexuality for some people...regardless of some prepubescent indoctrination.

Dan: I suspect KD is right, though we've run polls on my blog about whether being spanked as a child increased (or decreased) interest in adult spanking, and it was hard to see any correlation one way or another. But, it was a limited sample size. So who knows.

Sir Wendel: I would say that kids today have an interest in spanking. Although I think they do not have much of a development phase. They call it up from the internet and it is immediately there for them to see. My first exposure started with the spankings and whippings I got from my parents so the development took a bit longer.

Roz: Great question Hermione, hard to know but I suspect kd is right too.

Simon: This is basically a variation on the old "Nature or Nurture" debate. Is a love of spankings etc a result of upbringing or a personality trait that is innate? Personally I think in my case it was innate but I wouldn't go so far as to suggest that applies to everyone. I'm old enough to have grown up in a time when spankings at home, and canings and strappings in school, were common. My parents didn't use physical punishment but from an early age I knew that I was interested in and later aroused by the thought of punishment. I feel that my interest would have developed even without any outside influences and I suspect the same will apply to people growing up now. I have recently been lucky enough to punish several young ladies who have grown up without any cultural acceptance of spanking as discipline but they still developed a liking for it as a pleasurable activity and what's even more surprising is their understanding of the rituals such as telling off and cornertime etc which are clearly handed down from a time when CP was used as discipline.

Dr. Ken: I have no idea as to kids, but judging by the number of young people in their 20's that are showing up at spanking parties like Crimson Moon, I'd say the number will definitely increase in the long run....

Leigh: I think it's a cycle and while there are places where children are not physically chastised, I think there are as many places where spanking is still the 'go to' deterrent.

As for adults, as long as we humans get that delicious feeling at the mention of the word,see a picture of someone getting spanked, or when the smallest of touches on that particular portion of your body, arouses you, makes me think that it will always be a part of the human experience.

Ronnie: That's a good question Hermione. Really hard to know but from what Dr Ken has observed - more young people in their 20's attending spanking parties, then I think there will be an increase.

Hermione: A few weeks ago, Ron was playing with his grandson, when the little one suddenly said, "Spank me, Grandpa." To our knowledge, corporal punishment was unheard of in his family. Ron obliged, very gently of course, but the boy piped up, "Harder!" Ron looked at me and said quietly, "It runs in the family." Could the lad have picked it up at nursery school?

I think the future bodes well for spankos, and the numbers will not diminish.

That was a great discussion!
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #173

Hello, dear readers. It's great to see you here on this fine weekend.

Many of us realized our interest in spanking at a very early age. Although it is now prohibited or banned in many countries, at one time spanking was a common way of disciplining children. Those of us in the upper age bracket often witnessed or experienced spankings in childhood.

But times have changed. No longer do we see cartoons or comic strips containing spanking, and children of today are given other forms of discipline. Yet from time to time I have seen evidence that little ones still seem to have an interest in that activity. Am I the only one?

In your experience, have you noticed that children still play spanking games, show an interest in it, or speak about it? Why do you think this is the case, given the decrease in spanking as a common ocurrence? Do you think the next generation will comprise a higher, lower, or equal number of spankophiles?

Leave your response as a comment and I will publish a summary of our discussion once everyone has had a chance to weigh in.
From Hermione's Heart

Saturday, April 22, 2017

You Completed the Caption

What did you make of this underwater beauty?

Fish#1: "What a ditz! Avoiding the rain by ducking underwater?"
Fish#2: "And they say WE have tiny brains?!"

Fish#1: "So how long do you think she can hold her breath?"
Fish#2: " I don't know, but if those chest appendages are any indication, she's gonna be down here for a while."

Fish: "Hey! Lady! What the fuck? Do you see ME going to the bathroom in YOUR backyard?"

Leigh: Hope her breath holds out.

Ronnie: He wont find me here but I don't know how long I can hold my breath for.

Hermione: Betsy enjoyed underwater spanking, although sometimes the paddle floated away.
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, April 21, 2017

Friday FAIL

You had one job to do, and look how it turned out! How many times have we seen shoddy workmanship done by people who just didn't care about doing a job well? I think you will agree, after examining the finished products below, that several tradesmen need a dock in their wages—or at least a good paddling.

Who deserves the first paddling?
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Complete the Caption

I love this voluptuous beauty on the beach. What do you think she has on her mind? Spanking? Or is taht just how my mind works?

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

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

From the Top Shelf - A Master of Discipline, part 14

You will recall that last week, after returning from her training course, Ruth faced Miss Greeves in her office. It seems that there was some unfinished business that the headmistress needed to attend to. Let's ee how that went.
Ruth emerged into the outer office, from Miss Greeves's private study, to be met by Coral's astonished gaze. She could hardly blame the secretary for being wide-eyed and embarrassed, she thought. Not only was Ruth more than a little red in the face, but the door to the study was not exactly soundproofed. Even though Ruth had managed to keep her teeth tightly clenched throughout, there could have been no mistaking the sound of the crisp smacks, spaced at precisely fifteen- second intervals, for anything other than what they were. Since Ruth had been the only person in the room apart from Miss Greeves herself, it followed that Coral must have realised that Ruth had taken six of the very best, and across her bare bottom.

Ruth herself was certainly in no doubt. It was with the greatest difficulty that she resisted the temptation to massage her smarting rear. Miss Greeves kept herself in commendable trim and, despite her age, there was nothing wrong with the strength of her right arm. Nor was there any doubt that the tawse, now safely back in Ruth's briefcase, was fully functional and not just a souvenir.

Miss Greeves had swept all her papers to one side of the desk and indicated that Ruth should bend over and hold on to the far edge. Ruth was becoming so inured to having her bottom smacked that she hardly raised a murmur of protest. She had, however, looked over her shoulder in some alarm, ready to appeal, when her panties were pulled down. Then she remembered exactly how Nicky Shaw had protested when Ruth herself had been in control, and how the protest had fallen on deaf ears. She had turned her head back to face the front, accepting that she must take what was due, and awaited while Miss Greeves took up her position.

"You were right." Ruth managed a watery smile at the open-mouthed Coral. "She HAS changed a bit while I was away."

"Ruth, surely she didn't...I mean...I couldn't help hearing...At least, I thought I heard..."

"You did hear correctly and yes she did. But I don't want to talk about it now, OK? Maybe later." Ruth was in no mood for conversation and she desperately needed to be somewhere private, somewhere she could cool down and inspect the damage.

A few moments later, safely locked in the ladies wash-room, she ruefully craned her neck round to inspect herself in the mirror. As she expected, the three fingers of the tawse had left her bottom a rich crimson, with darker lines where the fingers separated and pinched the flesh up into little ridges. At least now the slate was completely clean. She trusted Lillian Greeves to keep her word and not refer to the matter again, just as she was equally sure that Lillian would keep her other promise - to apply the senior cane to Ruth's bare bottom if ever she thought the young teacher's performance needed correcting again.

She realised, ruefully, that she had left her little jar of Moon Balm at home. She had never, in her wildest dreams, imagined she would ever need that little jar at work! Taking her last class of the day was going to be rather uncomfortable, not to mention the drive home.

As she considered the prospect, her fingers strayed downward. Ruth looked around guiltily, although she knew that she was quite alone. Checking that the lock on the door was secure, she returned to the mirror, bending over in front of it to get a better view of her lower curves. Placing her splayed fingers flat across her stomach, she relished the sensation as they slid down towards the dark shadow of her groin. She closed her eyes and grinned. What kind of thrashing would I get from Lillian if she caught me doing this on school property, she thought. Now that would mean a damn good caning and no mistake! It had not occurred to her that this time there was no excuse of Moon Balm acting as a sexual stimulus, there was just the heat of the tawse pulsing through her bottom which was driving her desires.

Ruth knew that the next embarrassing meeting she would have to face was with Tony. She kept telling herself she had nothing to feel guilty about. After all, she had merely been sent on a training course in connection with her work, something which had happened to her many times before and which Tony also had to do from time to time. Nothing had happened; she had not cheated on him and, in any case, their arrangement, although of quite long standing, had nothing cut and dried about it. They were both free agents, despite Tony's semi permanent residence in her house. There was no contractual obligation.

In that case, said the little voice at the back of her mind which kept prodding away, why do you keep trying to justify yourself? Ask yourself, my girl, what would you say if Tony came home and told you he had spent the last two days giving bare-arsed spankings to a group of pretty girls? This conversation with her inner self continued throughout the journey home. The warmth and tenderness in her rear, which the well-worn springing of her car seat did nothing to reduce, combined with the kaleidoscope of erotic images which flashed across her vision, did not improve Ruth's road-safety awareness one iota.

She arrived home, and abandoned her car in the drive in her usual fashion, then opened the front door to find the little red light of her answering machine winking at her. Pressing the replay button as she kicked the door closed behind her, she listened to Tony's voice, distorted by the scratchy tape. "Hi sweetie! I'm afraid I'm going to be late again tonight, so go ahead and eat without me. In fact I may be really late so don't wait up. But I will definitely be there sometime. Love you! Bye!"

She was annoyed and deflated. Damn, I wanted to talk him through this situation slowly. Instead of which he's going to be so late there will be no time for talk. Just his body next to hers in bed. Slam! Bam! Thank you, Ruth! ....and goodnight.

There was nothing else for it but to swallow her disappointment and dine alone. As she changed out of her working clothes into something more casual, she took time out for another inspection of her posterior in the mirror. The backs of her legs still carried a faint tracery of scratches from the birch twigs, although the Moon Balm had made the healing process far quicker than she would have imagined possible. Higher up, the full globes of her buttocks were still as crimson as they had been when she checked in the school rest-room. The smarting which had troubled her for most of the afternoon was abating somewhat, but she was still very aware that she had received a darn good strapping! Looking longingly at the small glass jar which she had placed on her dressing table, Ruth made a deliberate decision not to use the balm. For one thing, there wasn't all that much left and , for another, now that the worst of the sting had gone, the residual feeling of warmth in her bottom really wasn't that unpleasant.


Several hours later, after a lonely evening watching nothing in particular on TV, Ruth decided it was time for bed, Tony or no Tony. She undressed and went to the bathroom then returned and pondered over her night attire. It was a little chilly and she was alone so she eventually eschewed various flighty creations in favour of an old favourite, a pair of men's striped pyjamas. If he's going to leave me in bed on my own at least I'll be as warm as I can be, she thought.

After reading in bed for half an hour, Ruth put out the light, but found it difficult to drop off to sleep. As her thoughts drifted between the conscious and the unconscious , so the warmth in her bottom became more intrusive, and the meanderings of her mind more and more erotic. She had just rolled over onto her stomach and was cushioning her head in her arms in an effort to find a comfortable spot when she heard Tony's car in the drive. At least she thought it was Tony, although she distinctly heard two doors slam. A moment or two later, she heard his key in the lock then his footsteps in the hallway, so she put her head down again and tried to relax, though sleep was now impossible, at least until Tony came to join her. She waited expectantly as he came up the stairs and went to the bathroom. Then he was at the doorway.

"Ruth," he whispered softly, "are you still awake?"

"Well, even if I wasn't, I am now," she replied, feigning irritation.

"Good." The duvet was suddenly whipped away from her. "Because I would hate to spank a sleeping beauty." His hand whacked down onto her upturned and sensitive posterior and even the material of the pyjamas did not lessen the sting very much.

"Oh Owwwww! What was that for? You beast!" She was angry now and rolled quickly across to the other side of the bed.

"How many times do I have to remind you about locking your car at night?" Tony sounded pretty cross and Ruth remembered that she had come straight into the house, scatter-brain fashion, and had completely forgotten to lock her car. So that's what the second car door was! He's been checking up on me! Tony had put the light on , and was advancing round the bed towards her.

"No, please, let me explain," she cried, backing away from him, her heart pounding.

"Nothing to explain. It wasn't locked....again...and you've had your last warning!"

"No, Tony, not tonight please. Not a spanking. I've had a bad day. You wouldn't believe...oh no please!" The last word was dragged out in a plaintive squeal as he caught hold of her arm and pulled her towards him. Ruth put up the best fight she could,but the pyjamas made it easy for Tony to maintain a hold, even though the buttons of the jacket popped open in a rapid sequence, making Ruth grab frantically to pull it round her. It was all over in a few seconds and Ruth was forced to concede defeat as she was pulled firmly across his lap. This is becoming a habit, the little voice in her head told her, and what's more - as she felt her pyjama bottoms being yanked down - you are getting to like it! Ruth studied the pattern on the carpet, making a performance for Tony's benefit, kicking her legs to rid them of the encumbering pyjamas, and squealing, giggling and pleading for mercy in mock terror.

Tony trapped her flailing legs in his, and planted one hand firmly on her back, holding her in position, bottom up, for what she expected was going to be a very rapid warming. When the expected slap did not fall, she tried to wriggle around to see what he was doing, but could only see his raised hand, in the classic open-palmed position, ready to strike.

"What's the matter? You've seen my bottom before. If you're going to spank me, for God's sake get on with it. A girl could catch her death of cold stuck like this, you know!"

"I may have seen your bottom many times before," Tony said deliberately, "but it was never this colour. What on earth have you been up to......and with whom?"

"Oh hell, Tony, it's an awfully long story. Look if you're not going to spank me, now you've got me in this position, at least do something useful. There is a jar of ointment on the bedside table, do me a favour and rub some of it in to my bum. Please? All over the red bits."

"It had better be a very good story, " Tony growled angrily as he reached for the jar. "It seems to me that you have been putting yourself about a bit, my girl, and if you haven't got a really convincing excuse for why your bottom is in this condition, it'll be more than just a bit red by the time I finish with it!"

His hand, loaded with Moon Balm, came down on the centre of her left cheek with a slap which made her yelp, just to emphasise the point. "Come on, start talking!" He began to massage her bottom, in a none too gentle rotary motion. Ruth began to recount the tale of her activities, leaving nothing out, and going right back to her first encounter with Nicky Shaw and Robin Henderson in the school shower rooms.

It was a long story, and took a lot of massaging. With Tony's ministrations, Ruth's bottom and thighs became slippery. With the slipperiness, Tony's hands naturally tended to stray and, as the balm took effect, soothing her various aches and pains, Ruth started to relax and make things a little easier. Eventually Tony let Ruth up from her undignified position over his knee. He had already stripped down to his boxer shorts and Ruth made short work of removing them. To even things up, he slipped the pyjama jacket off her shoulders, and gripped it tightly as it reached her elbows, so that her arms were pinioned tightly behind her.

Ruth felt her head swimming as he nibbled at her breasts, his teeth nipping and teasing gently, the tip of his tongue circling, tickling, tantalising, as the dark peaks of each nipple hardened and rose in turn. When she could stand it no longer, she slipped her arms out of the flapping jacket and grabbed him around the waist with both hands.

It was Tony's turn to throw his head back and gasp for breath as she ran her tongue down his chest, then lower across his stomach, the dark hairs of his body tickling her nostrils as she descended, until finally she was kissing the tip of his erect cock, ready to open her mouth and take it fully inside. The taste of it was salty on her tongue, his scent musky on her nostrils. She let out a small cry of disappointment that this new experience was denied her, as she was lifted up and flung hard down on the bed. Then he was on her, his weight crushing the breath out of her.

Ruth splayed her legs wide to receive him, and screamed softly as the invitation was accepted. Then her thighs were clamped to his ribcage, her ankles locked together behind him, and the bed creaked as the two bodies rose and fell as one, his gasps for breath mingling with her groans as his stiff shaft drove ever more deeply inside her.
There. It wasn't so difficult to tell him after all.

From Hermione's Heart