Miss Hasler's English Class: 4

We have something a little different for today’s class: a creative writing exercise. I thought that it would be fun for us to put all that English knowledge to good use and write a nice story. And a gold star to Andrea for the excellent suggestion of the class writing a story together. Julie, don’t pull that face: you will get a gold star when you have earned one.

You all like reading stories, don’t you? And I know that several of you like telling them to get each other into trouble. So writing a story should be easy for such creative little thinkers!

Now, before we begin I should explain about some of the different ways in which a story can be told.

When Harry rushed up to me the other day and said, “Miss! Miss! Julie hit me! I was innocently lifting the back of her skirt with a stick when she suddenly span round and pow!” he was telling a story – a silly little story, but a story nonetheless – in the first person. That means that the ‘voice’ of the story – the narrative voice – says ‘I’, rather than ‘Harry’. The story is told directly from Harry’s point of view.

Were the story to be told in the third person, it would sound something like this:

Harry rushed up to Miss Hasler in an awful tizzy. “Miss! Miss! Julie hit me!” he cried. “I was innocently lifting the back of her skirt with a stick when she suddenly span round and pow!”

So we have first person narration and third person narration… what about second person narration? Does that exist? It does! Using the second person means saying ‘you’, rather than ‘I’ or ‘Harry’. If we again use the story of Harry getting a deserved smack from Julie as an example, in the second person it would read:

You ran up to Miss Hasler in an awful tizzy. “Miss! Miss! Julie hit me!” you cried. “I was innocently lifting the back of her skirt with a stick when she suddenly span round and pow!”

For our story today we shall use third person narration. So, if you want to put yourself into the story, you should refer to yourself by name. “Miss Hasler was walking around the school playground, watching the children play. She heard a squeal and turned to see poor Andrea rubbing her head sorrowfully. ‘Dana pulled my hair, Miss!’ the pretty little girl frowned.”

One more thing to bear in mind. All of the stories I have mentioned today, and many of the stories you yourselves will have read, are told as if they happened in the past. “Miss Hasler was walking;” “Goldilocks ate the porridge all up;” “They all lived happily ever after.” This is because they are written in something called the past tense. Just as there are three kinds of narrative voice that you can use when writing or telling a story, there are three kinds of tense: past, present and future (although the future tense isn’t especially usable in English). Our story will use the past tense.

Now, is everyone ready? Good. Put your hand up if you have an idea for the story and I will write it on the board. (Within reason). And don’t be afraid to let your imaginations go. Our story can jump around as madly as Timmy on a trampoline: the magical thing about fiction is that it is only limited by the author’s imagination.

Hello, world!

Or rather hello, dear readers! Don’t worry, I’m still here – I just thought I’d leave imreadonly2’s post up at the top for a week to give it maximum exposure. (Hmm. That sounds like the title of a soft porn film, doesn’t it? Maximum Exposure. In fact it probably is one. Or five. The pinnacle of the series being, of course, Maximum Exposure 5: Jugs of Justice).

Anyway! I just wanted to say hi and to let all of Miss Hasler’s pupils know that the next English class is imminent. So pack those satchels! And make sure your uniforms are nice and neat. That means you, Julie. If those pleats aren’t crisp you will find that silly little skirt flipped up and yourself over my knee, young lady.

Guest post: Words and pictures, by imreadonly2

A first for my little blog: a guest post! I am deeply honoured to play host(ess) to the talented, handsome and saucy spanking fiction author imreadonly2, who has kindly written a very interesting piece about a very interesting subject: the respective merits of images and words in the creation of erotica.

And that’s not all. As a result of his deliberations (and a little bratty pleading from me) he has also written a new spanking story – starring meee! – to be serialised in the Library of Spanking Fiction. Entitled The Perils of Penelope, the story was inspired by a Janus cover image (shown below) and details a certain Miss Hasler’s return to school, in uniform, as an adult. I am very proud to say that I was invited to contribute a couple of little sections, and some silly limericks, to the story.

Anyway! Without further ado (as they say), here’s my very special guest imreadonly2:

*****

A recent discussion on pictures led Penelope and I to have an interesting sidebar about the role of pictures on her blog.

This is primarily a story blog that focuses on spanking fantasies, with pictures as an accent. Penelope (good girl that she is) is very conscious of not appropriating content, and uses photos and images discretely. Also there are numerous picture blogs on the web. So while Penelope utilizes pictures, and sees their advantages, the primary focus of the site is text and fantasy.

Text, like radio, allows you to create your own mental images. In a story Penelope can be a blonde, a redhead, or a brunette. She can simultaneously be 5 foot tall or 3 inches taller than Amelia Jane Rutherford. And her facial expression when that first spank lands will be precisely what the reader thinks it should.

Pictures have their place, but a well written story can weave a spell, and create a magic all its own. Anyone who loves words, and loves Penelope’s blog, appreciates how special stories can be.

Like Penelope, I prefer a hybrid approach. I thought many of the posts on MarQe’s Study and in the old Janus Magazines (particularly the covers) themselves suggested a story, at least in my mind. And of course the mind is the most wonderful of all our erogenous zones.

I particularly like the covers from Janus and Blushes and Rue because they aren’t explicit, and usually picture the girl waiting for the spanking, and dreading the punishment in store. Once again, what goes on in your mind is often far more interesting than the mechanics of the punishment itself.

Since Penny flattered me by asking me to write a story for her, I complied, using the Janus image from below (reposted with permission) as my inspiration for her story, and as proof of my picture-story-inspiration concept. Shortly after I selected this cover, it appeared on MarQe’s site; apparently he liked it too!

Thank you to Penny, and to Janus, for allowing me to attempt to write the story I imagined to reside within Janus 14 when I first saw the cover.

Penelope bit her lip as she waited nervously outside the Headmaster’s office. She looked down, nervously tucking her blouse into her skirt as she listened to the deafening TICK-TOCK of the clock upon the wall...

Penelope reflected back on the strange events that had led her, slowly but inexorably, to this precise moment. The Headmaster had been dreadfully nice – indeed, almost unctuous – when she had requested permission to sit in on her niece’s classes and take notes after her unfortunate accident. When she earnestly promised to be as discreet as possible, so as to not disrupt the school’s routine, the Headmaster smiled.

“I’m enormously pleased to hear that, Miss Hasler, because we’re quite old fashioned about such things,” the Headmaster said, sipping his steaming hot tea. “Students who disrupt our school’s routine quickly discover this, and they leave this office sitting quite a bit less comfortably than you are now!” he added, chuckling at his own wit.

It was a casual comment, made in jest really, not directed specifically at Penelope at all, but more at himself, and those naughty students foolish enough to cross his path.

But Penelope found her eyes magnetically drawn to the enormous wooden wardrobe standing against the wall. It was ancient, and very old and expensive looking, with two large doors that opened up to reveal heaven knows what. It was big enough to hide a dozen Penelopes, a thought that briefly crossed Penny’s mind as the Headmaster alluded to the school’s discipline policy.

There was a pregnant pause, and the Headmaster smiled as Penny bit her lip, and shifted nervously in her chair as she imagined what was in the secret cupboard. “Once a naughty girl, always a naughty girl,” he thought, “particularly the older ones.”

Continued in the Library of Spanking Fiction...

Many thanks to Janus Worldwide for granting me permission to reproduce their sexy cover!

Ready for my close-up

I’ve written a few ‘me’ posts recently: posts where I star, plain old Penny Hasler, in place of a fictitious naughty schoolgirl or an imagined sex toy of Maria Sharapova’s. (Not that there’s anything wrong with posts like that!) And, to use an English expression, that’s taken quite a bit of bottle. Because I’m quite a shy person, and quite a self-deprecating one, and so blogging about myself can feel like I’m standing in the centre of the room shouting “Hey everyone! Look at me!”

Which isn’t something that I generally do. Even when I’m tipsy.

But you know – and I can’t say this enough times – other bloggers have shown me that I don’t have to think that way; that it’s okay to feature myself as a subject, and their examples have given me the courage to open up a bit more.

And you know what else? (This next bit is probably only apropos on a spanking blog...)

I want to show you a photo of my butt. I know that’s hardly ‘Garbo Speaks!’, but it’s quite a leap for me. Why do I want to? Quite a few reasons. For one thing I figure that it’s less daunting than putting up a photo of my lovely *ahem* face; secondly I have used loads of pictures of other girls’ butts on my blog so it only seems fair that I use one of my own; thirdly a pic of my rear won’t compromise the idea that readers can project their fantasies onto me and visualise their own perfect Penny; and last of all I figure that I write about it enough, so I should really let you see it. Kind of let you put a butt to a name, lol!

So anyway, here’s my butt:

Or some of it, at least. And apologies for the blurriness; BH must have shaky hands. ;P I chose the pic as it is quite modest (by saucy standards) and I guess it represents my idea of a tastefully teasing photo. I’m actually on all fours on the bed, wearing a red ‘skater’ dress that someone appears to have roguishly hitched up. I hope you like it! (But it’s okay if you don’t).

I should mention that this doesn’t mean I want to be bombarded with requests for more pics. I’m still just a spanking enthusiast and writer, not a spanking model. I’m not brave enough for that (and I have nothing but admiration for those women who are). And, like many other submissive women, I don’t like being pressured in my ‘real’ life to do things on demand: I like to do things because I want to. So if and when the next pic appears, it will be because I feel ready to put it up. I hope that makes sense and doesn’t sound too diva-ish.

P.S. I was spanked not long after the photo was taken. Quite thoroughly. Despite my struggling protestations. Which just proves that Poppy has it quite right: tops are silly!

P.P.S. I headed this post with a cute bunny in a cup because 1) the pic captures how I feel a lot of the time, and 2) that pic will hopefully appear on other blogs as a thumbnail, rather than my butt! (Don’t worry, I okayed it with the bunny first).

Deepening still the dream-like charm

Time really does fly. I was looking back through my blog and I noticed that I hadn’t posted a silly limerick since May. May! You poor, deprived things. But fear not, pine no more, set down the flaming torches, etc. etc., because I have delved deep into my well of creative nonsense and written another one. (Which can be read as a bit of wish fulfilment after my recent holiday).

The Bathing Beauty

It seemed such a nice bit of fun
To tease her poor beau in the sun.
She thought it less neat
When swept off her feet
And spanked right before everyone.

Down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace

(Another vanilla post, I’m afraid, but I have been meaning to write about my recent reads for a while... sorry!)

I love books. They’re magical things, like dragons, but real. I’m lucky that I was introduced to them as a tot and encouraged to read. I still have a bashed-up copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar tucked away in a box somewhere. Great book!

Most of the time I read ‘real’ (as in paper and ink) books. I do own a Kindle (BH got me one for my birthday) but I have to admit that I don’t actually use it that much. It’s certainly very clever, and I can see how applying the magic of the digital age to books is a great idea (as it means you can carry hundreds of books around in one small, light object), but there’s just something that paper books have, some kind of unique quality, that can’t be replicated. I guess it’s like candles and lightbulbs.

So what candles have I been reading lately? (Er..!) Most recently, one called watching words move by Ivan Chermayeff and Tom Geismar. This isn’t a fictional book, but a kind of typographical/design manifesto, and it’s just one of those lovely pieces of art that is always fresh and fun and uplifting. And I think it does qualify as art, because the purpose of the book is to explore and blur the boundaries between text as object and text as meaning, a field I find fascinating. And, rather than doing that exploring and blurring by means of an academic treatise, the authors do it by making the text of words take on qualities of those words in a series of visual puns. Like this:

A nipped nipped! Cool, huh? The book’s actually fifty years old this year, which is hard to believe as it’s so (post)modern.

The next book is also non-fiction, but not such an easy read: Intertextuality by Graham Allen. I won’t try to summarise the concept of intertextuality here, because a) I’m not smart enough and b) postmodern lit theory is a bit of an acquired taste. I’ll just treat you to an example sentence: “We have seen in our analysis of Plath’s poem that a semiotic interpretation of that poem need not locate a specific inter-text or group of inter-texts in order to describe the sociolectic codes upon which it builds its significance.”

I’ve been wading through this thing for ages, lol!

As for fiction, I recently read Daphne du Maurier’s first novel, The Loving Spirit. Very Gothic! It’s very atmospherically written, of course, but to be honest I found it quite a depressing read. Whereas most novels focus on one person’s life, or a period in their life, The Loving Spirit covers four generations of a family. The (initial) principal characters are young, they grow up, they marry and have children, they grow old, they die. Then the story switches focus onto one of their children, and he grows up, has children, grows old, (goes mad) and dies. Then the story focuses on one of his children... I’m sure you can guess the rest. Not a cheery read, all in all!

Much cheerier is Oh, The Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss. Such an uplifting little book! (Highly recommended if you’re in need of un-slumping). I love everything that wonderful man did, and hope one day to own all his books. Silly secret: sometimes I get BH to read children’s stories to me in bed. We have all the fun, I know...

Let’s see, what else? The Big Over Easy by Jasper Fforde, America by Jean Baudrillard, Ghost Hunter (a choose your own adventure book) by Edward Packard, The World’s Shortest Stories of Love and Death, and a book on home baking because I thought I’d attempt a cake. (It didn’t work out too well).

Those are the things I’ve read of late... I’d love to hear about the things you’ve been reading!

Penny explores the blogosphere

I had intended to write a little piece about the books I have been reading lately, but I think a rather more important and pressing thing to do is add several more blogs to my Kinky Links. It really does never cease to amaze me just how wide and deep and beautiful the ocean of sites out there is, and just how much energy and talent it contains. Big, loving hugs* to the clever people behind:

Heart and Soul

Poppy’s Submissions

Alex in Spankingland

Joey and Friends

I have spent many enjoyable hours over the weekend swimming through these blogs, like some Brat Cousteau, and all I can say is that they’re all uniquely wonderful, like the most beautiful and exotic sea flowers. Kink, to me, is an expression of love, and discovering and immersing oneself in new voices is a fascinating way to experience that love. (Enough aquatic metaphors, you think?)

*Confession: I typed that as ‘jugs’ at first. Freudian typo.

The PH files

Inspired by Ana, I thought I’d write a little bit about myself. It occurs that I’m probably a blank page to a lot of you, so here are some things that might help form a picture. (The stuff that follows won’t be as deep or intelligent as the things Ana writes, but I hope it’s still of interest).

I’m twenty-four and (nearly) a half, born and raised in England (various parts of it), I can speak one language, I’m right-handed, brunette (though I sometimes go blonde), and I like cheesecake. I like other stuff too; it’s just that cheesecake was the first thing to pop into my head. The first time I tried cheesecake I thought it was the best thing EVER.

I studied English at university (that’s where I met BH)... I can drive but I don’t own a car (sold it in May)... when I was really little I thought 100 was the biggest number possible... I have a canvas print of the Casablanca movie poster on the wall above my Naughty Little Writing Desk.

Some of the music I’ve listened to today: Freezepop, Sprite; Noisettes, Don’t Give Up; Ash, Lose Control; Michael Jackson, Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough; Sleigh Bells, Riot Rhythm (ah-ah-ah ah-ah-ah... :D); Daft Punk, Crescendolls. Some very brat-friendly music there; perfect for jumping on your bed to.

I have been scrumping as a child. Haven’t climbed a tree in years, now I come to think of it.

There are two boxes of Frosties and three of Rice Krispies on top of our fridge. BH is the predominant cereal eater; I usually have toast for breakfast with Marmite on one piece. The fridge itself is a hand-me-down, as is our TV and most of our furniture. Definitely an ‘eclectic’ effect in our house.

I can never seem to boil an egg just right. It’s always too hard or too runny. (Food on the brain! Sorry).

I’ve always enjoyed the feeling of a smacked bottom, right back to my earliest memories. My Dad caught me spanking myself once. He didn’t say a word about it. I learned years later that he was a spanko too.

The keyboard I’m typing this on is black, as is my mouse and computer. It’s like the Death Star here. Except for the (hand-me-down) monitor, which is that classic computery light beige colour. Kind of spoils the effect. The ‘A’ key on my keyboard is just about worn clean, for some reason.

My first job was as a cleaner at a supermarket. I was the youngest one there by about thirty years. I learned that delicatessens are very messy behind the counter. I think they must have food fights when no-one’s looking.

My favourite films are comedies.

I didn’t try very hard at school for a few years as I was chronically depressed and full of guilt over a stroke my Mum had. I once wrote an assignment in the ten minutes before the lesson it was due in (and got an ‘A’). But then I also stopped running halfway along the hundred metres in PE because I thought I was so loathsome and ridiculous I couldn’t bear it.

The first thing I say upon waking up on the first day of a new month is ‘white rabbits’, because it’s good luck.

I have an elder brother, a younger sister and a younger brother. I know I’m biased but they’re all really nice people.

The last item of clothing I bought was a navy blue pleated miniskirt from the ‘teen’ range.

Okay. That’s enough stream-of-consciousness rambling for now! I hope that I’ve given you a better idea of the girl behind this silly blog.

Little Penny and the wardrobe monster

As we haven’t heard from little Penny for a while I thought I’d invite her over to tell me (and you) about anything she had on her mind. After eating me clean out of cookies she sat with a thoughtful look on her chocolatey face, legs swinging under her chair. Little Penny is shy, and prefers to write things in her diary. But with a little encouragement she began to tell me about a frightfully serious episode from Tuesday evening...

*****

I was in my cot all tucked in with my teddy Mr Hugs and Daddy was reading my bedtime story. It was my faverit, Goldilocks an’ the Free Bears. I like that story best cos it has a little girl who is naughty and gets spanked and I like to imagine I am her. I would have Frosties instead of yukky porridge though. Frosties are nice and sugary and I like the tiger on the box. If I wasn’t gonna be a pony I would be a tiger.

Daddy finished the story and I smiled and clapped. Daddy kissed me and told me I was a good girl and that I had to sleep tight. He turned the light off and I closed my eyes to go to sleep.

I tryed and tryed but I couldn’t fall asleep. Mr Hugs couldn’t either. We lay there for AGES, all sad at being still awake. I rolled onto one side, then the other, then onto my back, but nuffin worked.

Ages later, maybe a milyon hours, I felt frighted but I didn’t know why. I started to listen carefully for monsters and I defnitely heard one creaking around in the wardrobe and I felt extra super afraid. Monsters like to eat little girls and I’m a little girl and I don’t wanna be eated.

I wanted to call out to Daddy but I was scared that the monster might eat me before Daddy came. I hid all safe under the covers and sucked my dummy and thinked. After a while I thinked that if Daddy couldn’t come to me, I would have to go to Daddy. But I didn’t want to get out of my cot cos my room was all dark. I don’t like it when it’s dark cos that’s what monsters like best and everyfin looks frightnin, even my dolls on the windowsill.

“Be brave for Mr Hugs,” I thinked to myself. I pushed the covers off and stood up and climbed out of the cot. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse so any monsters wouldn’t hear me. I held Mr Hugs tight and tiptoed to Daddy’s room. The hallway has a squeaky floorboard that I always step on and I stepped on it and it squeaked – I held my breath and looked round but no monsters came (phew!)

I crept into Daddy’s room. Daddy has a nice big bed and I climbed in beside him and pulled the covers right up to my ear. Daddy kept snoring the whole time and I nuzzled into him and closed my eyes, happy that I was all safe and sound. I felt like Goldilocks snuggling up to big strong Daddy Bear. I fell asleep in about firty five seconds.

Silly monsters, I showed them!

*****

What a brave little girl! Definitely deserving of a bag of jelly worms to take home.

The photo above is from ABhunnies, a wonderful AB site. If you want to see pretty adult girls in baby outfits, go there. Join. Enjoy! (And if you don’t, don’t).