Bend and Bare, Bon, Bend and Bare

These are words I know well. In the early years of this blog, I used to have a large tagline at the very bottom of the page that read, “Spankings Happen.” And so they did, and I am grateful that they still do. When I hear the title phrase, I know it’s time for another session with one of our favorite spanking paddles. What follows is a fulfillment of my spanko dreams.

On the weekends, Randy sometimes paddles me more than once in a day. He is delighted when I raise my skirt to reveal residual redness or marks on my bottom from a previous spanking. He always asks me if it hurts. If I tell him that it does, he kneads my exposed skin to draw out the last throbbing vestiges of my previous punishment before starting again. If I say it doesn’t, well that’s a challenge he is happy to accept. Either way, the paddle smacks repeatedly against my tender cheeks. And that always hurts. A lot.

He often secures me by grabbing the waistband of my thong with his left hand. This leaves his right hand free to wind up and deliver a full swing of the paddle. Of course, I can’t see much other than the floor at these moments, but I’ve studied his technique in the hundreds of videos we’ve watched together. He recently started assigning silly titles to the videos. Two of my favorites are “Bon Beating Bonanza” and “That Lesson She’ll Remember to Forget.”

In other news, it’s finally starting to warm up (weatherwise), so we’ve been playing in the basement more often. That’s where our spanking bench is located. I love the bench. It’s an exhilarating feeling to have my wrists and ankles bound with velcro straps. Even before the serious punishment begins, as I lay there with my bottom completely vulnerable, I know I am due for the full treatment. This anticipation is delicious. Then I receive all that I deserve.

After it’s finished and everything is cleaned up and stowed away, we head back upstairs. Each step I take along the way triggers additional posterior pain. It’s almost a bonus spanking. Randy was so enchanted by this phenomenon last time that he had me go back and walk up the steps again for the benefit of his camera.

Spankings are good at our house. Randy’s health issues remind us that everything in this life is temporary. Carpe Diem in this context means assume the position, and I do!

Ask Bonnie: Wishing for Spring Edition

Happy Almost Spring, friends. We've been busy with lots of stuff, so I've been away from the blog. But I'm here now with some reader questions.

Question: When did you first know you have a large bottom?

Bonnie: I guess we'll start with this familiar topic. I don't recall anyone phrasing the question this way before. I think it's an inherent design feature. I always knew. Back in junior high, I learned that boys knew too. Not a happy memory.

Question: Would you sell your paddles/thongs?

Bonnie: That's not business I want to transact. You can order paddles through any quality internet vendor. Thongs are available everywhere.

Question: You say you get spanked because you are bad. What bad things make you so deserving?

Bonnie: I give discourteous answers to questions like this one.

Question: Dear Mrs X – do you have any suggestions how a man can find a lady with the same interests and Pleasures regarding spanking as you do?

Bonnie: You might want to check out local kink groups or online forums.

Question: Do you know anyone in ____ that would be willing to spank me

Bonnie: I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone who lives there. I suggest you seek like-minded people in your area.

Question: you referenced a cane that was more useful for less intensity than a standard school sized cane. Could you point me in the right direction in terms of size? Length, material?

Bonnie: We bought that cane from a store named Cane-iac. They are still in business, but in the process of closing. The cane I described is wooden, fairly light, and about 24 inches long. It is well suited for OTK use.

Question: How can you permit a man to beat your body with a stick?

Bonnie: Yeah. OK. Explanation time. I don’t permit this, we agree in advance. Second, that man is my husband to whom I’ve been married for my entire adult life and with whom I share many wonderful memories, both spanking and otherwise. Third, it’s a spanking not a beating. The focus is my bottom, not my whole body. My spankings happen for a specific purpose. It hurts, but I sustain no lasting damage. Finally, he doesn’t use some random stick he found along the highway. Most often, it’s a paddle that we purchased to deliver spankings. I consent and I am an active participant.

Question: how do i create my own spanking bench

Bonnie: We bought ours, but you can search for "spanking bench" plans or "spanking bench" blueprints. There appear to be several choices. Good luck!

Question: Is spanking a turn-on?

Bonnie: That’s a big 10-4 good buddy

Question: Have you ever had to sign a paddle after you were paddled with it?

Bonnie: Yes, that’s a dynamic we enjoy. I have signed the paddle to memorialize a hard punishment gratefully accepted.

Question: Are you thinking about retiring?

Bonnie: Retiring from what? Spankings: No, Blogging: Who knows?, Work: It’s on the table.

That's it for now. If you want to send me a question, click the Ask Bonnie symbol near the bottom of the right column.

In Search of Heroines

When I was a girl, about sixth grade, I became aware that things were changing. I was suddenly different and the way people treated me was diferent too. As if overnight, my girl body became a woman body. But I wasn't a woman, not even close. It was all hard to understand. My parents were supportive, but I didn't think they understood. I searched for a guidepost, an inspiration. I found one in the most unlikely spot.

Like most kids of my generation, I grew up watching Saturday morning cartoons and munching the sugar cereal they pitched. Amongst the vast wasteland of television (as dubbed by the Chairman of the Federal Communications Commission), I found a character with whom I could identify. She was Penelope Pitstop.

Penelope appeared first in a cartoon show called the Wacky Races and later in her own spin-off show. Penelope was determined and honest and loyal. But she wasn't very bright. She was a cute southern belle who gratefully accepted assistance wherever she could find it and she seemed to need a lot of assistance. Especially from another driver named Peter Perfect. He was as handsome as Penelope was beautiful, but again not too smart.

Why did I connect with this imaginary character with a silly personality? I think it was because she looked like me. I had wide hips and a big butt. So did she. Today, we talk about the importance of representation. We didn't know that word, but that's what she was for me.

What's strange is that I didn't consciously get the connection until years later. I just liked Penelope. I wasn't a driver, or blonde, or Southern, or dopey. But she was the only female driver, so I rooted for her.

Those cartoons were made two generations ago. I doubt anyone involved gave much thought to their effect on girl viewers. But today, we know better, or at least we should.

We have a teenage granddaughter. She is bright, beautiful, clever, and funny. And she has the same shape as her mom and me. She's athletic, healthy, and definitely not overweight. But she got the family blessing/curse.

This sweet girl is barraged with social media messages that define feminine beauty as something she doesn't have and never will. Yet she attracts lots of interest from guys. This conflict causes her great distress. She thinks there must be something wrong with her. If only girls had contemporary role models who could tell them straight - I'm all right and you are too. There are curvy celebrities like JLo or Beyonce, but those women are both older than her mother.

She thinks I don't understand, but maybe I do. I tell her how beautiful she is, but she says I'm supposed to say that. My wish for this amazing young woman is that she comes to accept herself as she is, and in time, loves her mind and her body. She has so much potential. I don't want to meddle, but I wish I could do more.

PS - Randy reminded me that Penelope Pitstop used to get tied up a lot. I guess she did. That probably appealed to me as well.

A New Year Brings Change

As I’ve described, Randy and I settled into a comfortable routine where we are both mostly working from home. Spankings that once had to be carefully scheduled have become frequent and impromptu. We enjoy this arrangement where at almost any moment I can be invited to flip my skirt or hoist my nightgown for a hearty dose of stinging correction. I can defer, and sometimes I do, but it’s exciting to know that my next paddling might be just around the next bend.

But I get cold. The climate where we live is lovely for part of the year, just not this part. The long billowy skirts I wear are cool and comfortable all summer long. But come the rainy season, they don’t insulate me from the cold.

Back in November, I complained to Randy and he went into problem solver mode. He ordered me three new pairs of jeans. Nice, except they didn’t fit. I could have told him that. So back they went and he sent me on a mission to find those same jeans in a store. I eventually found the appropriate size and brought them home.

This style is notable because there are no back pockets to impede the forceful contact of spanking implements. The color is dark indigo, which to me is the original color of jeans. They fade with time and wear and washings to become soft and comfy.

I wasn’t surprised to learn that my dear husband had plans beyond just protecting me from the cold. Once before, he tried to see if he could create a pair of my jeans where two spots on the seat were far more worn than the rest of the pants. He loves the idea of sending me out into the world with jeans that scream, “I get spanked right here!” But last time, he became impatient. He used drastic measures like sandpaper and bleach. This didn’t create the organic look that he wanted and those jeans were eventually discarded.

The experimentation has begun again. Randy discovered that implements like canes and straps seem to distress the fabric more than the paddles he normally relies upon. I get a layer of fabric to protect my butt from the falling flails, but he has taken the opportunity to turn up the intensity. You needn’t be concerned, dear reader, that I am being deprived of my thorough spankings. I feel the burn.

So far, my legs are warmer and so is my bottom. The jeans are starting to wear in the desired fashion and I’m beginning to think this plan might work. Randy really wants to send me out shopping or to the library sporting distinctive marks both inside and out.

So I guess we’ll see.

Spanko Granny Rap

OK, I hear you. I need to post.

Spanko Granny Rap

Swattin' my tail Doin’ it right Blowin’ full gale Saturday night Strippin’ me nude Bendin’ me down Heat continued Stings all around Livin’ the life Punishment time A lucky wife Pay for my crime Those paddles burn Right where I sit Lessons I learn Finally submit My soul's alive My pain is real Could not contrive It hurts to heal Here together Life in the now Makin’ it better Showin’ me how My correction New attitude Our connection Big gratitude End the evening So sore and red Go with my king Lead me to bed

Spanko Bingo Card

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Here's some goofy fun. Who will be the lucky winner?