Away for a little bit

Hi everyone,

I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be away from my blog for a few days as a family member is unwell. I'm sorry that I won't be able to reply to your comments for a while – thank you for each and every one.

Love,
Penny xx

Cloudless climes and starry skies

I know I said when posting my last silly limerick that I wouldn't post another for a while, but OldFashionedGirl said she liked them and I live to please. So here's another silly limerick! (An even sillier one than usual, if that's possible...)

The Trouble With Nieces

There was a kind uncle called Pat
Whose niece was a terrible brat.
When dealing with her
(He liked to aver)
The best thing was plenty of swat! (ahem)

Dance Dance Spanko (lution)

A rich source of playful sexiness in mainstream culture – and one that not everyone may be aware of – is the dance music video. Their highly charged nature isn’t very surprising, all things considered, as dance is intimately associated with youthful energy, hedonism and, well, sex. ‘Music to get nasty to’, one could call it. Of course, that same accusation has been levelled at all kinds of popular music since forever, but the key difference with dance is its unapologetic, unfettered celebration of carnality and its use of the video as a deliberate extension of that.

Even so, the majority of dance videos (in common with most other aspects of pop culture, sadly) are rather uninspired. But every so often one is made with a touch of originality and wit, elevating it above the norm. And every (every) so often, one is made with a touch of kink! With that in mind, here are a few favourites of mine that you might also enjoy...

Plug It In

Original is definitely a word that could be used to describe the video to Plug It In by Basement Jaxx: it centres on a factory that builds sexy fembots, several of which are ‘plugged in’ after hours and played with by two lecherous security guards. Naughty guards! The fictitious TV ads for the fembots are my favourite bit, and really speak to my nascent robot fetishism. (More on that in a future post).

The Creeps

The Creeps (Camille Jones/Fedde Le Grand) has pleasing overtones of Secretary-like submission (sounds like I’m describing perfume), with office hotties crawling to their male boss in an attempt to please. No spanking, sadly, but there’s lots of barely-contained lust and very inappropriate thrusting on desks, and it’s the sort of video that makes me think “I’d really like to be in her shoes.”

Hear My Name

That same sentiment is emphatically true of the most overtly kinky video in my little selection, Hear My Name (Armand Van Helden). I’m sure many of you will have seen it already, but in case you haven’t it features two elegantly strict ladies of leisure delivering OTK spankings to an endless line of naughty men and women. Really great atmosphere!

Satisfaction

I want to give an honorary mention to two more videos that, whilst not kinky, are certainly hot (if you happen to like watching young ladies jiggling about) and really quite clever. Satisfaction (Benny Benassi) can be read as a satire on the conventions of advertising, a critique of the objectification of women, and even an ironic deconstruction of the dance video itself. But then on the other hand it may just be a sexy video full of girls using power tools. (In salacious, bouncing slow motion). Who can say?

Watch Out

Watch Out (Alex Gaudino ft Shena) is another reality-blurring, media-blending postmodernist babefest, with women in the role of soccer players in a video game played by the artists themselves. It’s all very ‘spanky sports’! Caution: contains extremely short shorts and plenty for the spanko imagination to run wild over.

I’m far from an expert on dance music, so the little list above simply comprises some of the videos that I happen to have watched and enjoyed. Feel free to add more in the comments! Oh, and the music in these videos may not be to everyone’s taste, so you might want to mute it. (I like it, but there you go).

Tea, cucumber sandwiches and cartoon gulps

The things I do for my readers...

Last night I was dared by a nice young man from America called Nick to perform a cartoony ‘gulp’ in public. Because a) I can do them, and b) girls doing them turn him on. Good enough for me!

So this afternoon I popped out for lunch at a nearby tearooms – clientele mostly ladies of a certain age, atmosphere one of slightly sniffy pretension – purely because I thought it would be a suitable spot for a bit of cartoon gulping. It’s unusually sunny and warm in England just now so I wore a breezy white floral dress, sandals and a sun hat. Bare legs in March! It’s hard to believe.

(In case you’re interested, once seated I ordered a pot of tea, some cucumber sandwiches and a strawberry muffin).

The room was quite small and the tables quite close together, so I could hear every bit of conversation. Most of the talking came from one woman sitting at a table just to my right. She droned on and on (in an unnecessarily loud voice) to her friend (who couldn’t get a word in) about the exploits of her grown-up offspring. “Mark’s just back from Marrakesh, you know... blah blah blah... Eleanor attended a lecture given by an authority on the Restoration...” Woop-e-do, I thought, daintily munching my sandwich. I didn’t really mind her showing-off; I just wished I had a dining companion at that moment so I could tell her made-up things with overdone gravitas as a bit of mischievous fun. “Well, you know, the only really authentic zebra meat is that farmed in the mountains of Kenya*. My partner has a tea concern in the region, you see, so we find ourselves out there quite a bit.”

* pronounced ‘Keen-ya’ for extra pomposity.

My big moment came when I asked for the bill. The waitress (a girl probably about the same age as me) came to my table and handed me the slip. I reached for my bag and idly rummaged around in it for my purse. And then I rummaged some more. And then, with an air of slight panic, held my bag open and looked right into it.

Moments later I did my best ‘I’m in trouble now’ cartoony gulp, looked up at the waitress with my best worried expression, and said “I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t seem to have my purse with me…”

Suddenly I could feel the eyes and ears of the room on me. Even the loud, proud woman at the next table had stopped talking. I could imagine the thoughts of my fellow lunching ladies so vividly I could practically hear them:

“Oh, how embarrassing!”
“Poor dear. And such a pretty little thing!”
“Silly girl! Of course, I’ve never forgotten my purse in fifty-seven years!”

The waitress’s reaction? She somehow managed to look at once amused, surprised, suspicious, embarrassed (for me), generally nonplussed and unsure of what to do. The funny thing was, I felt sorry for her! She was a second away from summoning the manager, I sensed, when I patted a side pocket on my bag, unzipped it, and produced my purse. And then she looked relieved, and laughed politely. As did I. And everyone thought me very silly and went back to their own private intrigues.

What an actress I yam!

Shopping can be such fun

My Kinky Links have grown by one again!

It gives me great pleasure to recommend (and link to) The Spank Shop, a fictitious emporium bursting with kinky, spanky delights. The shop's proprietress, Aunty Andrea, is clearly a lady well versed in the theory and practice of discipline, so patrons are advised to be on their very best behaviour.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and see Aunty about a hairbrush. I wonder if she provides a testing service..?

I'll give you a red rump, my boy!

I’ve just learned of a post by that naughty (but talented) boy RedRump in which he very kindly showcases a number of blogs written by strict women. And he includes me! Yay!

Now, whilst such a kind testimonial is most welcome – and I offer my heartfelt thanks for it – I cannot overlook the fact that RR has been naughty enough to seek such sites out in the first place. And I can only imagine the shameful things he gets up to while viewing them...

I rather think, RedRump, that your browsing habits are yet more proof (as if any were needed) that you require a great deal of female guidance. Strict, unforgiving female guidance. But then of course we can discuss the matter in more detail when you are draped across my knee. Don’t you agree, young man?

Swaying to the kissing breeze

Never let it be said that I’m not a ditz. It was only after I bemoaned the lack of a day beginning with ‘P’ that I realised Penelope and Poetry began with the same letter and would make a perfect title for a poetry series.

And so, dunce’s cap once more firmly seated atop my head, I give you my latest ‘poetic’ effort (last limerick for a while, promise):

Penny’s Least Fav’rit Day

The morning that all schoolgirls fear:
Day one of a brand new school year.
Poor Penny cried “No!
I don’t want to go!”
But was dragged to her fate by the ear.

Penny throws a tantrum

Penny was an angel when she was good, her Daddy always said. The loveliest little girl there ever was. But of course little Penny wasn’t always good. In fact she was really quite naughty, really quite often.

A bright spring Thursday in March was one of those days. Penny had been bratty all day and her long-suffering Daddy was growing ever more exasperated with her. The final straw was a tantrum she threw when she was told that no, she couldn’t have a snack before dinner. The little madam stamped her feet, called her Daddy a meanie who never let her do anything she wanted, said that if she couldn’t have jelly worms then she didn’t want ANY dinner at ALL, then stomped over to the fireplace and sat pouting, a sour expression darkening her little face. Here’s what happened next, in naughty little Penny’s own words...

*****

“You can pout all you like, young lady!” Daddy said crossly. “You’re not having jelly worms and spoiling your appetite, and that’s final!”

I frowned at Daddy because I was cross at him.

“You may think you’re all grown up, Penny Hasler, but believe me, my girl, you still have a lot of growing up to do. In fact if your behaviour today proves anything, it’s that you’re a VERY naughty little girl, and that you’re BADLY in need of a smacked bottom!”

“But Daddy!” I cried, “I am all growed up! I dressed myself this morning and poured my own cereal, and I can read nearly all the words on the cereal box!” But Daddy was too cross to listen. I wish Daddy would listen! My teddy bear Mr Hugs always listens. I even did my crossest frown at Daddy but it didn’t work. Daddy lifted me up by the arm and pulled me over to the big chair he likes to spank me on. I tried to get away but Daddy is very strong and he held my arm tight. He sat down and put me over his knee.

“Oh, please, Daddy!” I wailed. “I don’t wanna spanking!”

Daddy laughed. “Naughty little girls never do! But you need one, Penny, and by heaven you’re going to get one!”

And then Daddy pulled my dress up and my panties down, even though I didn’t want him to, because they were my favourite pink ones with Cookie Monster on, and he started to smack my botty. “Ow! Ow!” I cried, kicking my legs. “Please, Daddy! I’m sorry!”

But Daddy didn’t listen (AGAIN) and just kept spanking me. Daddy’s hand is big and hard and each spank hurt a lot. I started to cry when Daddy told me that I was grounded for a whole week. Being grounded makes me sad because I like to go out and play. “I don’t wanna be grounded!” I sobbed.

“I know you don’t, Penny,” said Daddy. “So I hope it will encourage you to think twice before acting up in future. And you’d better believe that if you persist in behaving like a brat you’ll be grounded for another week, too!”

I cried and cried the whole time Daddy spanked me. When he had finished spanking me and let me up I was very, very sorry for being so naughty. I tried to hide my face because I didn’t want Daddy to see me cry, but he lifted my chin up and brushed my hair away and wiped a tear from my cheek and said I was a very brave little girl. I thanked Daddy for my spanking and said I was sorry for being bad and he gave me a nice big hug.

Daddy pulled my panties up and told me to go stand in the corner. I like to do what Daddy tells me but I don’t like standing in the corner. It’s boring and silly. But I didn’t tell Daddy that because I know it makes him cross when I pout. I went to the corner and stood there for AGES, feeling very sad and silly, until Daddy said I could come back and sit on his lap. I love sitting on Daddy’s lap, so I clapped and smiled and skipped over to him.

And Daddy bounced me on his knee, and told me I was his best girl, and that all my naughtiness was forgiven, and that I could have ice cream later if I ate my dinner all up. And I smiled because I was happy. I love my Daddy so much!

I had a bad dream, Daddy

I'm a bit of a sleepyhead today as I woke up from a scary dream in the middle of the night and lay awake for perhaps an hour afterwards.

In the dream I was walking around a house – I think we were looking it over with a view to moving in – and I had my pet dog with me. Dog and I were in a room on the top floor, with one room downstairs left to go, and I suddenly had a feeling of trepidation come over me, as if we shouldn't go down the stairs to the room. Still, I went to the stairs. And then I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of impending danger, as if I knew for a fact that a horrid, malevolent presence was rushing up the stairs towards us, a threatening spirit (definitely not Casper), and I turned and ran. And woke up.

Though my mind was calm, my heart was racing and adrenaline was rushing (as of course the body doesn't know that the danger in a dream is imaginary) so I knew that falling back asleep wasn't likely to happen all that soon. I pondered going to my computer and posting about it then and there, but – and you're not allowed to laugh at this – I was too frightened to venture out from the safety of my bed into the darkness. I will confess that even without bad dreams I'm still a little afraid of the dark sometimes, even though I know it's silly. So I lay with my eyes closed and tried to think about nice things until I fell back asleep.

Just thought I'd share that. Feel free to patronise and reassure your favourite naughty little Penny in the comments xx

Wide world of spanking

You know, Blogger (the thing I use to post my scribblings here) is pretty nifty. One particularly clever feature lets me know how many visits I get, and from which countries those visits originate.

To date, I've had guests from (deep breath): Argentina, Armenia, Australia, Austria, Belarus, Belgium, Brazil, Bulgaria, Canada, Chile, Costa Rica, Croatia, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Denmark, Egypt, Estonia, Finland, France, Georgia, Germany, Guernsey, Honduras, Hong Kong, Hungary, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Jersey, Jordan, Kyrgyzstan, Latvia, Malaysia, Mexico, Mongolia, Namibia, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Nigeria, Norway, Pakistan, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Romania, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Slovakia, Slovenia, South Africa, South Korea, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sweden, Switzerland, Taiwan, Thailand, Tunisia, Turkey, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, United Kingdom, United States, Uruguay, Vietnam, Yemen and Zambia. (Hi everyone!)

Now, I realise that there's nothing unusual about a website having visitors from a wide range of countries – I bet Bonnie's blog has had a visitor from the moon :D – but it really makes me happy to think that so many people, from so many different cultures, have a shared love of kink. And that they're kind enough to give my little blog a look because of it! Every visit means a lot to me, so thank you all. xx

P.S. I'm so in the mood for a Geography lesson now. I'm good with countries but hopeless with American states. Oh, I hope there isn't a test coming up...

Victoria Azarenka is a bitch!

I'm upset. :(

Maria Sharapova has just lost the final of a big tournament pretty heavily to Victoria Azarenka (booo). That bitch beat her in the Australian Open final as well, and Maria hasn't taken a set off her in five matches now.

You're still the best in my book, Maria. And the hottest xxx

And if I ever run into that little cow Azarenka I'll make her good and sorry! *does best tiger grrr*

I heart Hermione (and shoes)

It's a bit of an obvious thing to say, but the Internet is neat, isn't it? A worldwide communication tool; a limitless information resource; a great way to find pretty shoes. And, perhaps best of all, it's home to countless wonderful, naughty spanking sites: a kinky land so abundant that one could spend a lifetime exploring it and still not see every last thing.

My own ickle map of Terra Spanka (otherwise known as my Kinky Links) is of course a humble effort. But it is now one whole blog bigger as I have belatedly added the brilliant Hermione's Heart.

To anyone who has yet to visit Hermione's blog I say please do. And to Hermione I send love, hugs and spanks, eh! (I speak Canadian, you see) xx

I wandered lonely as a brat

I really like writing poetry. It's a beautiful, song-like means of expression, with an endless array of possibilities (one of which is, of course, humour). I'll have to try writing something serious at some point, should time ever allow.

I might even make a poetry post a regular-ish thing. It's a shame that there isn't a day of the week that begins with 'P' (at least not in English), as then I could give it a snazzy alliterative name.

Anyway, 'Poetry Paturday' or not, I humbly present for your delectation, titillation, and (most probably) consternation, another silly limerick. *curtseys*

A Little Girl Pleads

“Oh, please can I play with your cock?
It’s so big, and as hard as a rock!”
When Daddy said oui,
She giggled with glee
And sucked ‘til he came on her frock.

Facebook (again)

I posted on this subject last year, but just to reiterate (as my blog had approximately one reader back then): I am not on Facebook. Not in the slightest, most fleetingly ethereal sense. It's just not my sort of thing.

Whereas this, as I'm sure you know, is my sort of thing.

I mention this because there is a Penelope Hasler on FB, but – as they say in the movies – any likeness is entirely coincidental. (And there isn't much likeness, to be honest...)

So don't send her any naughty messages! Send them to meee instead! (Unless you happen to be a friend of the 'other' PH, that is. Send whatever messages you like to her in that case) x

Miss Hasler in the library with the spanking story

Oh dear... all I did was write a little post about an online library of spanking stories, and that naughty imagination of mine just ran and ran. I therefore present an account of what happened to Penelope Hasler, fifth form pupil at Birchington School, when she couldn’t resist reading a forbidden book during Library Hour...

*****

Wednesday morning meant an hour in the school library. I should really have spent the whole hour studying my French, as we had a test coming up on Friday, but I had quickly got bored. French is silly. Très bleh.

I got up from my seat under the pretext of returning a textbook to its shelf. Once I had slipped Grammaire Française back into its rightful place I crept down the aisle and headed towards a section of the library that I knew held books of a quite different type.

There was one shelf in particular – marked NOT FOR THE USE OF PUPILS – with all manner of forbidden books on it: stories, erotic poetry, and even books with naughty pictures in them. It was to one of these picture books that I first turned. Listening out for the slightest sound of approach, I spent a delightful spell furtively savouring the taboo images within and naughtily rubbing the front of my skirt.

Soon I had grown so aroused, and felt so very wicked, that I wanted more than anything to read about spanking: about naughty girls being put across strict schoolmistresses’ laps and punished. Fingers trembling, I lifted a huge book of spanking stories from the shelf. I opened it as quietly and carefully as I could, as if to do otherwise would set off an alarm, leafed to a promising passage and began to read.

The cruel Lord sped up his assault, thrashing the helpless girl’s quivering bottom fiercely. Georgina writhed and struggled in her bonds as the unforgiving crop painfully licked her again and again. Soon her soft flesh was crisscrossed by dozens of bright red streaks; her rear felt like freshly molten wax.

“Please, oh, please-–” she begged between yelps, half in appeal for mercy, half in appeal for more severity. The crop stung the backs of her thighs over and over again, turning them the same fierce shade of scarlet as her plump bottom. Lost in the moment, frenziedly desirous of the crop’s severe caress, Georgina began to anticipate the rhythm of the strokes, and moved to meet them.

She was not just thrashed from behind. When Redington was satisfied with his work there, he moved round to face her and mercilessly took the crop to her breasts. How she howled! But, just as before, the pain had an overwhelming element of pleasure to it, and the intoxicated girl began to yearn for each stroke before it landed.

I was so absorbed that I nearly jumped out of my socks when a voice from behind suddenly snapped, “Can I help you with something?”

I turned to see the Librarian, Miss Fanshawe, hands on hips, a fearsomely disapproving look in her eye.

“Um, well, you see,” I sputtered, hurriedly putting the book back on the shelf and trying to think of an excuse. “I was looking for the, um, the… Art section?”

The stern but faintly amused expression on Miss Fanshawe’s face told me that she was not in the least convinced by my attempt at evasion. She moved closer, pacing right up to where I stood, and glared down at me.

“The Art section is on the opposite side of the room, Miss Hasler.”

Already blushing with the embarrassment of being caught in a naughty act, I coloured still deeper at the inadequacy of my excuse.

“Oh... yes, Miss!” I squeaked. “Silly me. I’ll just go there now!”

“Stay where you are,” she said. “Now, you were looking at a book a moment ago. Show it to me.”

“Oh, but... it was n-nothing, Miss,” I said, my voice growing ever more like that of a little girl caught raiding the cookie jar. “I picked it up by mistake, I--”

“Show it to me.”

I pulled the book out from the shelf and held it up for her to see.

“The Bumper Book of Sexy Spanking Stories?!” she cried, snatching the volume from my hands. “Miss Hasler! Just what were you doing looking at such filth?”

“Um, well, you see, Miss...” I timidly began, my eyes now fixed on the floor. “I wanted to… to find a story about a girl who gets spanked...”

I didn’t need to look up at her face to know that the strict Librarian was thoroughly appalled at my confession. I knew that I would not get any credit for my honesty. My tummy did cartwheels as I waited for her reaction.

“I think you need to come with ME!” she cried. And she took me by the ear and marched me right through the library, past student after giggling student, and into her private room.

“So you like to read about spanking, do you?” she taunted, slamming the book down upon her desk. “Well, I’m going to give you a practical demonstration -- we’ll see just how keen you are on it then!”

She ordered me to place a chair in the centre of the room. As I shifted one of her heavy office chairs to the designated spot, she flicked through the forbidden book. Moments later she strode toward me, sat purposefully, and placed the open book on the floor beside her foot.

“Over my knee,” she commanded. I lay across her lap and found myself staring once more at the Bumper Book of Sexy Spanking Stories. It was open at the beginning of a story called ‘The Librarian and the Naughty Schoolgirl’.

I whimpered as Miss Fanshawe flipped my skirt up and ominously caressed my bottom. I had been spanked by her once before, and I knew that she spanked very hard. I bit my lip in anticipation, and silently prayed that she wouldn’t take the cane to me afterward. Every pupil in the school, after all, had heard the rumour that she liked to strip girls naked and cane them in the privacy of her office.

“Now read,” she said. “Aloud.”

*****

Photo from Firm Hand Spanking – just what naughty girls need!

Library hour

I’m sure many of you are already members, but it has just occurred to me that I should showcase (and recommend) a great web resource: The Library of Spanking Fiction. As you can see above, I was only recently introduced to it, and I'm really glad I was!

The site contains thousands of stories, by an enormous array of authors, with every conceivable taste catered for. There are even audio files of many of the stories. And it’s interactive, too: there are writing challenges, and a collaborative writing area, and a chatroom, and a discussion forum. Truly a spanko’s delight.

As with real-world libraries, you need to join to get access, but this is free – and you even get a cute little library card (mine is shown above). What a lovely, school-y touch :o)

Oh, and do remember, should you find yourself wandering the aisles, to check out the naughty tales of a certain imreadonly2…

Love made me tremble

As intimated by my little paean to the lovely Maria Sharapova, I am not ashamed to admit that I have a decided appreciation of the female form and more than a little curiosity about matters Sapphic. Kinky little madam that I am, this attraction often mixes with certain, let’s say, ‘non-vanilla’ impulses and means that I often have fantasies about other women in which roleplay, domination, bondage and punishment feature heavily. Very much like the sexy tales my naughty friend Elizabeth features on her blog, in fact. I’m a bit of a switch (though I don’t get to top my Better Half in real life) so sometimes I’m top in my fantasies, sometimes bottom. (Most times bottom, if I must be strictly honest).

I’ll write about my fantasies from time to time here – my job is to entertain and titillate, after all – and perhaps pen a few naughty stories about Penny the schoolgirl’s encounters with her female teachers. But for today, I’ll return to the beautiful sport of tennis and the even more beautiful Miss Sharapova.

There was no doubt who wore the trousers in our relationship. My lover, Maria. She was my everything: beautiful, kind, and nurturing. And she liked to remind me, very often, that she was in charge.

I stood before her, my eyes fixed on my feet, not daring to look at her angry face. I had displeased her, and I knew I deserved to be punished.

“I won’t tell you again,” she warned. “Over my knee.”

I flicked my gaze upwards for the briefest moment, catching a glimpse of her heavenly eyes and her icy-stern expression. Butterflies fluttering inside me, I timidly obeyed her command and draped myself across her lap. In a moment my little skirt was flipped up and my panties pulled down, and before I could say “I’m sorry, Maria!” my bottom was being swatted a stinging pink. Oh, but Maria spanks so hard!

“Ow! Oh, please, Maria!” I yelped, kicking my feet pathetically, looking and feeling every inch the naughty little girl over her authoritative lover’s knee. “I’m s-sorry!”

“That’s Miss Sharapova to you, brat!” she scolded.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Ow! Yes, Miss Sharapova! Ow! Ooh!”

That afternoon Maria taught me a badly-needed lesson in obedience, and I thanked her humbly and attentively when she gave me permission to kneel at her feet and make amends.

“Ohhh... what a good little slut you are,” she purred, stroking my hair as I hungrily worshipped her. “I’ll have to give you a good girl spanking for this...”

Naughty little artist

I've just spent an enjoyable hour browsing the internet for spanking sites (a very naughty pastime, I know) and I would like to recommend a blog titled Red Rump Spanking Art to my readers. As you can see from the wonderful picture above, the blog's owner is a very talented illustrator. (He is also a very naughty boy who loves strict women and the spankings they deliver. Tut!) In addition to original femdom artwork, his site features tons of sexy retro photos and some really engaging writing. So check it out!

P.S. If you're reading this, Mr RR, I would be more than happy to give you exactly what you need xxx

I'm not a brat! Not, not, not!

I love it when people are kind (or naughty) enough to comment on my scribblings. It makes me happy to think that people are interacting with my blog and it gives me a nice warm glow inside :o)

That said, one visitor in particular – namely that big, silly, mean old imreadonly2 – keeps interacting in a way that gives me quite a different sort of warm glow. He's always telling me off and spanking me and making me show him my knickers and subjecting me to all sorts of humiliating punishments.

It doesn't matter how many times I tell him I'm much too big for all those things and I'm not a brat and I don't want a spanking – he just calls me an impudent little madam and spanks me for throwing a tantrum! It's not fair!

I'm a grown woman, this is my blog, and I'm not going to stand for it. So, to imreadonly2 and everyone else who thinks I'm a brat in need of regular spankings...

Nyah nyah nyah! Raaasp! Silly old stinky-pants!

Hmf! That'll show 'em!

Learning the hard way

I suppose it’s my own fault really. I should have listened to the daily warnings in Assembly about the uniform rules, and the consequences for any girl caught breaking them…

I should have listened to Amanda, the Head Girl, when she told me to straighten my tie and tuck my blouse in…

I should have thought twice before putting sheer stockings on this morning, rather than the specified white kneesocks…

And skimpy, sky-blue cotton knickers, in place of those horrid, thick, bottle-green regulation ones…

But… how was I to know a uniform inspection was going to be done today? I hate this stupid school. It’s stuffy and old-fashioned and way too strict. I mean – imagine making a classful of girls stand and bend over their desks, skirts raised, right in the middle of English class, just so the Headmistress can check that they’re wearing the correct underwear! It’s just beastly!

And now I’m over Miss Harper’s knee in detention, my sky-blue cotton knickers round my ankles, my poor little bottom being smacked much too hard. It’s not fair! Stupid school, stupid uniform rules…

Ow! Ow! Oh, Miss! I’m sorry! Ow!

Photo from the delightful School Mistress Fantasy.

Birthday girl

Hi sweeties and sorry for the quietness – I've had a bit of a jolly holiday myself and been out and about the last few days. One of those days, incidentally, was my birthday, and so of course I got a good, hard birthday spanking! It was given over the knee, on the bare with the spatula, and I got many more swats than my age because a) the postman knocked on the door right in the middle of it so we had to start over, and b) I bratted and talked back and earned myself lots of extras. Naughty Penny! But it was a lovely way to start the day, with a red, sore bottom. And I was on my very best behaviour for the rest of the day... more or less ;o)

I'll put up a proper post soon, promise. In the meantime, feel free to comment on what you would do with a brat in her jammies acting up over a spanking! x