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

Monday, April 16, 2018

Recap: Spanko Brunch 2.0 for April 15

What is your opinion of hairbrushes?

Dan: It does have an iconic aspect and definitely has me thinking about spankings whenever I see a large, oval shaped brush. But, it does not play a big role for us in real life, because the spankings with a hairbrush just aren't very effective. Now, the bath brush is a different, and altogether much more painful story.

Amy: In literature, the hairbrush always got me going. I finally told Eric about my fantasies surrounding it and we went to Target and bought the squarish wooden flat back brush that I've seen posted on many blogs. It HURT LIKE HELL. We were both shocked how extreme it was. Now Eric uses it but only with my jeans on. Too intense on bare skin. Thankfully, after a spanking with the thing, he brushes my hair. Ahhh. One of my favorite things in the whole world.

Rosco: Irene will pick up the hairbrush once in a while and give me a few sharp smacks. It’s the tool we started with, and she gave me quite a paddling with on our honeymoon in 1982, I wonder if people in the adjoining cabins heard the noise.

But for many years she’s preferred her long riding crop, along with a regular tawse and a short one we found on a trip to New York City. And in the spring she’ll instruct me to find a few straight supple shoots at the base on wild plum trees in our area. They have a delicious sting.

Sir Wendel: The hair brush has become a symbol of a spanking and we always think of spanking when we see one. We have actual paddles but once in a while a good licking with the brush is just what the doctor ordered.

Yorkie: My wife needed a new hairbrush. I chose a particularly large black plastic one that seemed to have some weight. It was a spontaneous purchase and therefore not perfect but it does pack quite a sting and it is quite LOUD. And yes, I encouraged her to buy a new hairbrush for a dual purpose. ;)

Arched one: Thinking back in time, I would say in the U.S. the hair brush was the 1st implement used in spanking as most families had one. We have one but it's seldom used but it does have its wear marks from meeting my bottom. Her choice of implements is the wooden spoon, belt, strop and paddle. My own feelings on the brush, being the one that feels it. I think it has more sting with less effort on the spankers part.

Roz: The hairbrush always makes me think of spankings, however, it has never been used here.

Joe: The hairbrush was handy, always on the dresser, Jackie had bought a nice large one, it brought the results she wanted and she used it for sometime. Today it is a traditional paddle, covers more area she said, and so very effective. As for how I see it, I would rather have the hairbrush, that paddle really allows the spanking to last longer once she is done.

Windy: We have one, but it is only used on my hair. I am taking Amy's advice on this one and staying away from the hairbrush.

Treffor: For me, the quality of wood is of the utmost importance in a hairbrush.A well-polished ebony or similar hardwood hairbrush has a the resonance of a Stradivarius, eliciting yowls of pain from the male spankee. It does appear as the pre-eminent instrument for the female for discipline of the male and should be left prominently displayed for edification and attention.

Ronnie: I've always associated the hairbrush with the US, not sure why. We own two hairbrushes but they very rarely come into play. Not a favourite of ours.

Bernie: We did get a hair brush for the exclusive use of spankings. We used it a few times, but haven't gone back to it in years. It just didn't seem to work for either of us. But, the best to all who enjoy (?) it.

Anon: I consider the hairbrush to be the quintessential spanking implement, and it is, without question, my implement of choice. A hairbrush spanking always pushes the right buttons, especially in real life, because I believe that no other implement delivers the message to a mature woman that if she acts like a naughty little girl she’s going to be treated like a naughty little girl the way a hairbrush does.

I love the way a hairbrush feels when I hold it, the satisfying sound it makes on impact, the way I can use it over a wide area or narrow in on a specific target, and the spirited response it elicits when I apply it to a naughty woman’s upturned bottom. Another nice thing about a hairbrush is that it delivers the desired results whether applied to a bottom that’s encased in sturdy jeans, skimpy panties, or nothing at all.

As for the women I’ve played with, most of them have a passionate love/hate relationship with the “dreaded” hairbrush (they hate being spanked with it because it hurts like hell, but they love what it does for their psyche), which, for me, makes it the perfect implement. I find that the older I get, the more I rely on tried and true methods of doing things, and when it comes to dealing with a recalcitrant mature lady, there’s no more tried and true method then putting her over my knee and vigorously applying a hairbrush to her bare bottom until she kicks and squirms and howls like the naughty little girl she is inside.

I do use other implements for the sake of variety, but I prefer the hairbrush because the “bottom” line is, a hairbrush just works.

Terpsichore: Interesting to read everyone's thoughts. My hair brush almost always get used on my hair but a rare occasion.

Hermione: I love stories where the naughty girl or boy gets an over the knee hairbrush spanking. I suppose the reason is because many of the early spanking stories I read happened just that way. In real life, however, I find a hairbrush is too thuddy. I prefer a leather paddle, if I have any say ion the matter.
From Hermione's Heart

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Spanko Brunch 2.0 #223

Welcome to our weekly discussion of all things spanking. Lately I have been thinking about how certain implements are traditionally used in certain parts of the world, and therefore resonate with people used to experiencing them. The tawse, used frequently in Scotland, was, until recently, a rarity elsewhere. The English cane is the implement of choice for many adults residing in that country, and the paddle is most often the first choice in the US. Then there's the hairbrush.

What are your thoughts on the hairbrush? Do you think it has an association with a particular part of the world? Does the hairbrush push the right buttons for you in literature, videos and pictures? How about in real life? Is it your go-to implement, or is it rarely part of your spanking activity?

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

Saturday, April 14, 2018

You Completed the Caption

This is the original caption that came with the photo, and it has been around on Facebook for a while, although since I don't use FB I hadn't seen it. Now here are your captions:

KDPierre: Despite their good intentions, these protesters received a lot of criticism from people who thought such a ban was cruel and unfair to those who walked with a limp.

Joe: Hi, I first saw this photo a long time ago in a 'hardback' book, to do with the punishment of School Girls. The photo was, I believe, taken at a County Show in the south of England and the young ladies were protesting about frequent canings they received at their Private or Charity school, and some had been caned at 18/19 on the bare bottom! I am not sure of the Author.

Baxter: No to the cane, but turn the sign around and it says yes to the tawse. Sure. :)

Anon 1: Following their demonstration, the protestors were marched into the Headmaster's office where they were informed that the school administration was in agreement that the cane was an outdated form of punishment for young ladies. Then the Headmaster unveiled his new implement of choice, a large wooden paddle, which he then proceeded to apply to each girl's knicker-clad bottom. Afterward, the girls all agreed that their protest had not been in vain because even though six of the best with the paddle hurt terribly and left them unable to sit comfortably in class for several days, it was still better than the much hated cane.

Windy: I was just thinking I wouldn't want to be any of those girls because the would end up in very big trouble in one of Hermione's stories !! :)

Anon 2: Glenda and her husband, James, were sitting at the kitchen table when their granddaughter, Felicity, brought in a photo album she’d found and inquired if the girl on the right helping to hold the sign was her grandmother. An embarrassed Glenda acknowledged that yes, it was indeed her, and explained that when she was in school, it was common practice for the teachers and headmasters to punish girls by giving them strokes of the cane, and that she and her friends were protesting because they thought the practice was antiquated and that they were too old to be punished like naughty children.
When her granddaughter asked if the protest had worked, Glenda sighed and replied that it had not, that their fathers had put a quick stop to it and had hauled them all home where each girl received a good paddling, and that when they got back to school the headmaster had made it abundantly clear that he was not about to abandon the cane as his preferred method of punishing obstreperous young ladies. Felicity grimaced a bit and stated that she was glad her school had stopped using corporal punishment before she got there. She then said she knew Glenda and James were sweethearts at the time and asked what her grandfather thought about the protest. James started to answer but was interrupted by Glenda, who said he was very supportive of her efforts.
After Felicity left to join her friends for an outing to the mall, James inquired with a sly grin as to why Glenda hadn’t been truthful with Felicity. Glenda blushed and replied that Felicity certainly didn’t need to know about the fight they’d had because James had forbidden her to take part in the protest, and that in addition to the punishment she’d received from her father and the headmaster, he had followed through on his threat to give her a sound spanking. James laughed and said that although he certainly understood her point of view, that nevertheless, she had lied, and that obviously it had been far too long since he had held her accountable for such naughty behavior. James then pushed his chair back from the table and patted his lap. Glenda, her thoughts drifting back to the very first time James had beckoned her across his lap, inquired what would happen if she protested, to which James replied that any protest she might stage would be as effective now as it was when she was a schoolgirl.

Bernie: There seem to be six protesters. Did they each get one per protester?

Sir Wendel: Victory came just 2 days after the protest started. The Head Master got rid of the cane and replaced it with the belt which he promptly used the whip the protester's bare bottoms.

Anon 3: As the women of the “No To The Cane” protest gathered to celebrate the 40th anniversary of their demonstration they lamented the fact that until a few years ago, the day’s activities had ended with each woman receiving a sound spanking from her husband to mark the fact that this day was also the first time their boyfriends, now husbands, had spanked them. The boys had dragged them away minutes before headmaster got to the field and taken them to Frank’s basement because it was close by. The ungrateful girls had been such brats that the boys finally yanked them over their laps and spanked them. And to make sure the girls knew they were in this together, the girls were passed around and spanked by each boy, finally ending up back across their own boyfriend’s lap for a final flurry of swats.
the women sat whining about the lack of attention being paid to their bottoms, and other parts, Nadine suggested they re-stage their protest … with a slight twist. The next day they bought schoolgirl outfits and lingerie that matched what they had worn 40 years ago. They texted their husbands and told them to meet up after work, come to Frank’s house, and join them in the backyard. When the men arrived, they found the ladies dressed in their schoolgirl outfits and holding a sign that read, “Yes To The Hairbrush.” The husbands then led their wayward wives down to the basement, where a circle of folding chairs, a hairbrush on each, had been arranged. In no time, the men had draped their naughty schoolgirl-wives over their knees, and were raising their skirts and lowering their knickers, all the while admiring the voluptuous bottoms on display. The women set about wiggling and grinding their hips into their husbands’ laps in hope of arousing some hard evidence to confirm their plan was working. Their efforts were soon rewarded, and as their husbands patted their bottoms, the women twitched, moaned and fantasized about the pleasures awaiting her.
Their bliss was short-lived, and they were snapped back to reality when the first round of swats landed on their backsides, at which point their sultry squirming gave way to involuntary writhing, the warmth in their loins was overcome by the searing heat radiating from their rear ends, and their attention was refocused from the hardness beneath them to the hardness of the hairbrushes raining down on their upturned fannies. The women had not anticipated their husbands would be such energetic partners and were unprepared for the furious manner in which the hairbrushes were being applied to their vulnerable cheeks. It wasn’t long before they were kicking and squalling in pain.
They also hadn’t counted on their husbands re-enacting the entire spanking scene, so just when they thought their torment had ended, they were instructed to shift to the next husband in line. Once they’d made their way around the circle, they found themselves back across their husband’s lap for one final dose of the hairbrush, after which they were lined up against the wall so their husbands could admire their rosy rumps and enjoy a well-earned beer.
Standing in Nadine’s kitchen rubbing their still throbbing behinds the next morning, the satisfied wives agreed that their protest had succeeded, and that despite the fact that they wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably any time in the near future since their husbands had vowed to make up for lost spanking time, the had to admit that a sore bottom was a small price to pay for a happy husband and a stimulating marriage.

Hermione: Many men and women, who had obtained their lifelong interest in spanking by being caned at school, tried to reason with the protesters, who eventually saw reason and dispersed.
From Hermione's Heart

Friday, April 13, 2018

Friday FAIL

Today is Friday the 13th, a day that many people think is unlucky. The people below are doing their best to make that bad luck happen.



























Stay safe!
From Hermione's Heart

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Complete the Caption

Recently I heard from Boru, a regular reader of this blog, and he very kindly sent me this photo. I have to assume it wasn't photoshopped because it looks like a real protest from the sixties. What do you suppose was the outcome of this protest?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your votes—pro or con—on Saturday.
From Hermione's Heart