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Here is a list compiled for Andrew Heisle from a Hollywood Spanks article. It is no means exhaustive, but useful anyway.

Forsaking All Others (1934), dir. W.S. Van Dyke

Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife (1938), dir. Ernst Lubitsch

Reap the Wild Wind (1942), dir. Cecille B. DeMille

Too Young to Kiss (1951), dir. Robert Z. Leonard

West of the Pecos (1945), dir. Edward Killy

The Trail of the Lonesome Pine (1936), dir. Henry Hathaway

Flying Down to Rio (1933), dir. Thornton Freeland

Nothing Sacred (1937), dir. William Wellman

In the Navy (1941), dir. Arthur Lubin

Public Deb No. 1 (1940), dir. Gregory Ratoff

It Happened One Night (1934), dir. Frank Capra

To Catch a Thief (1955), dir. Alfred Hitchcock

The Flame and the Arrow (1950), dir. Jacques Tourneur

Gentleman Jim (1942), dir. Raoul Walsh

Dodge City (1939), dir. Michael Curtiz

Against All Flags (1952), dir. George Sherman

The Flame of Araby (1951), dir. Charles Lamont

Holiday for Lovers (1959), dir. Henry Levin

North West Mounted Police (1940), dir. Cecil B. DeMille

The Naughty Flirt (1931), dir. Edward F. Cline

Presenting Lily Mars (1943), dir. Norman Taurog

The Living Ghost (1942), dir. William Beaudine

And the Angels Sing (1944), dir. George Marshall

Professional Sweetheart (1933), dir. William A. Seiter

Desire (1936), dir. Frank Borzage

Forsaking All Others (1934), dir. W.S. Van Dyke [REAPPEARANCE]

Champagne for Caesar (1950), dir. Richard Whorf

Stampede (1949), dir. Lesley Selander

Look for the Silver Lining (1949), dir. David Butler

Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife (1938), dir. Enrst Lubitsch [REAPPEARANCE]

Kiss Me Kate (1953), dir. George Sidney

Meet John Doe (1941), dir. Frank Capra

Frontier Gal (1945), dir. Charles Lamont

The Female Animal (1958), dir. Harry Keller

Captain Lightfoot (1955), dir. Douglas Sirk

Tumbling Tumbleweeds (1935), dir. Joseph Kane

Lucky Star (1929), dir. Frank Borzage

Charade (1963), dir. Stanley Donen

9McLintock! (1963), dir. Andrew V. McLaglen

The Thin Man Goes (1945), dir. Richard Thorpe

The Beauty and the Bandit (1946), dir. William Nigh

McLintock! (1963), dir. Andrew V. McLaglen [REAPPEARANCE]

Meet John Doe (1941), dir. Frank Capra [REAPPEARANCE]

Streamline Express (1935), dir. Leonard Fields

Oklahoma! (1955), dir. Fred Zinnemann

Star of Midnight (1935), dir. Stephen Roberts

Taming the Wild (1936), dir. Robert F. Hill

Go Into Your Dance (1935), dir. Archie Mayo

In This Our Life (1942), dir. John Huston

The Singing Hill (1941), dir. Lew Landers

The Lady Says No (1951), dir. Frank Ross

Stronger Than Desire (1939), dir. Leslie Fenton

Trouble in Paradise (1932), dir. Ernst Lubitsch

Everything’s On Ice (1939), dir.Erle C. Kenton

Union Pacific (1939), dir. Cecil B. DeMille

Across the Wide Missouri (1951), dir. William Wellman

Taming the Wild (1936), dir. Robert F. Hill [REAPPEARANCE]

Donovan’s Reef (1963), dir. John Ford

Midnight (1939), dir. Mitchell Leisen

State of the Union (1948), dir. Frank Capra

Across the Wide Missouri (1951), dir. William Wellman [REAPPEARANCE]

Frontier Gal (1945), dir. Charles Lamont [REAPPEARANCE]

Forsaking All Others (1934), dir. W.S. Van Dyke [REAPPEARANCE]

Behind the Mask (1946), dir.Phil Karlson

You can read the full article here.



Following on from yesterday’s post I have had many comments and some good suggestions about mainstream movies containing spankings. I have more on that for tomorrow’s post.

I haven’t forgotten the stories pending, the Wolf will return and Governess. Not having been furloughed I have more work rather than less.

If you are looking for something to read (and don’t want to check out LSF or my Library) then I recently downloaded a book from CF Publications. You can also check out British Spanking Magazines blog.

Talking about returns, Acknowledging Imperfection is back.

There also seems to be a rush on reaction and aftermath shots, notably at Contemporary Spankingand James Stephenson.

Other images were found at: Devlin, Stan, Dallas, and the Spanking Emporium, Real Spankings.

! 1960 d04f9ab2994efb13d2909f1b19c

There is a 1960s movie with the same title of this post. It was filmed around where I grew up. In fact the heroine in the film cycles past our old house just after the opening credits. However, the story being full of sex and permissive society angst, I did not see the movie until I was a teenager, by which time we were living in another part of the country.

I did not return to the town until about 10 years ago for a family funeral, but it still looks the same. At the moment, like in the film, we go round and round and things never seem to change. But they do, don’t they?

We learn, we grow… even though my old town hasn’t changed, by staying the same it really has. In the 1960s it was fresh and new and represented a golden new future. Now the futuristic town centre and the smart housing upgrades of those earlier generation houses look like they are from another era. What was once the future is now the past.

Indigo and I look to new exciting directions and things are changing fast in some ways. Ironically though our bright future is grounded in the past: old sticks piled on old stones and ancient ideas looked upon refreshed.

Hope is where you find it and if you haven’t found it yet then you are probably looking in all the wrong places. It is a bit like Netflix, so many movies and shows, but you can never quite find one you want to watch, but it is out there.

The other day we were talking about old movies with spanking in them. We stumbled across one, The Halfway House, if you read that earlier post. There must be dozens from that era and later. Indigo and I love chancing upon them, but rarely does the search time throw up anything of such content. McKlintock! being an exception, but I was trying to think of others.

Some of you must be bored enough to be doing that search, have you fond any? If you have I bet you have seen it before, after looking before, the same old-same old, and yet… if it hasn’t changed, you have and there is always something fresh to see. Remember that the next time you go around the mulberry bush.


Vintage Sunday


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May Day


! Beltane Dreams-of-Spanking_spring072

This is not a call for help, but how appropriate a name for this day at the moment. Firstly an apology to everyone. Yesterday I touched upon politics, which is never a good idea. Never talk about politics in a pub or on a spanking blog I was always told. It was just I was having a bad day yesterday and then a certain person suggested that the Corona virus was all about him. I was oh so very slightly aghast at the sheer self obsessiveness of such a claim.

Thank you to everyone who commented with kind words and your own views about our favourite hotelier-cum-TV star. I hope I won’t cause offence if I do not allow those to be published. No one was rude or extreme, although some people respectfully did not agree with me. It is just that while everyone is playing nice let’s not go down that rabbit hole. I am British and probably should not comment anyway. I possibly would not even care if the leader in question ran almost any other country. Hey, so go America, I care.

Back to May Day, or Beltane on some pagan calendars, which is the first day of summer. Themes of fertility, renewal and in some cultures lots of spanking. Hey everyone let’s hit the beach… oh no don’t do that.

Today Indigo is doing stuff. Cooking mostly, but there are flowers and bits of twigs and I think I saw a ram headed man dealing a pack of tarot cards in the sitting room. That last bit might not be true.

I was going to write a piece about pagan spanking and May Day traditions, although I think I covered it before. However, I did not get the research done in time so be content with the picture above, which is taken from Dreams of Spanking.


No doubt this unprecedented set of world events will some day pass. One wonders what history will say. Maybe this really is all about the Chinese trying to discredit Donald Trump and he really is the true victim here? Or did he just mean those incredible narcissistic words sarcastically? he must have done, surely this about the 60,000 recorded deaths in the US alone, not him?

Then I thought about how these things are individual experiences that are so intense. This really is a human crisis that is about the individual. In a sense maybe the Trump Monster has a point. It is just that those in charge should be better than that, even if we are not.

Thinking ahead the permanent impact on the environment and economy has yet to be known, it could get very interesting.

Back home Indigo is working very hard and I am trying to readjust to being an inner cadre member holding down the fort from home. I really hate Skype.

I was going to write about how all of this is making us feel closer together and then we had a row about making a cup of coffee and where we put clean but slightly used tea towels.

In spank land I could say ‘you have some ‘splaining to do’ and then ‘someone’ would get a spanking to let off steam. But in the real world the right and wrong is less clear and the boss is on the Zoom or Skype and I have calls to make…

In a day or two maybe I can write a better post about spanking or the joys of coffee (although everyone knows tea is better.)





Thanks to everyone who responded to my post on Monday. I was partly just thinking aloud and partly exploring new directions.

I have yet to see any huge impact of C19 on the community although I did notice some of the new videos have people wearing face masks. I can see a reckless youth versus C19 story line working, although I am not sure that is what is happening here.

We are a bit light on content this week, pictures found at Dreams of Spanking, Richard Windsor, Devlin O’Neill and Contemporary Life.


! AA B Study

Given the current situation and intermittently having time on my side I have been appraising my life, this blog and other things.

My life has changed a great deal since I started this blog, for one thing I got married. I also had a spiritual epiphany, moved house twice, got a dog (yeah historically not a dog person, you have no idea). In addition I lost my mother and other tragedies.

The most important thing in my life is my wife who is the reason and inspiration for much of what I do. For many reasons I rarely write about her or us. The biggest reason I don’t is that I often have trouble connecting to my feelings I think. If you read my stories you may have sensed a certain detachment in many of my heroes. Life is so much easier when you write your own script.

Indigo used to have a very successful blog under a different name, but an envious sociopath stalker threw a hand-grenade into our lives and my wife retreated from all that. She used to write emotional witty pieces that inspired so many. She was so much better than I at the meaning of this-thing-we-do. I would love her to come back to it, but she is not ready.

Before I met her I think marrying a woman who shared my interests would have been the greatest thing. It is, for sure, but she is not a character in a story and my life with her is far more than that. Having a sub-Dom relationship with a real woman is not easy and sometimes it falls apart altogether. In real life I am not so good at it. Life, marriage and a spanking relationship is like a good garden: it takes a lot of work and sometimes there is more manure than roses.

In future I may try and explore more of who I am and amid the stories and reportage I may write more introspective pieces. I hope that doesn’t sound too pretentious or self-indulgent, but I rarely take time to write properly these days and maybe I should use some of that effort to develop rather than produce just light sketches.


Vintage Sunday



! 1 Red

Our tale began here.

Roberta had felt the burn of Jake’s hand where her bottom met the saddle all the way home. Now she was in sight of the ranch and home her tummy twisted up some at the thought of what her father might say; what her father might do. Her awareness of her bottom became all the more intense with this last thought. She looked at Jake who smiled encouragingly.

“I’ll explain,” he said.

“That,” she replied pointedly, “Is what I am afraid of.”

Jake snorted in amusement but he didn’t say it. He didn’t say that she had been a reckless fool and only had herself to blame. Instead he smiled again and said, “I tell me about us too.”

Roberta sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “But…”

Jake wasn’t listening and urged his horse forward. Within a few minutes they were at the house.

Robert Rand-Daly strode out to meet them. Today he was a man of purpose and his eyes were as deadly as guns.

“Good morning sir,” Jake said evenly and inclined his head politely.

“Jake Goodman I presume,” Robert shot back in a gravel voice.

“Mr Rand-Daly,” Jake acknowledged. “Had some trouble: pulled your daughter from the river,” he began.

“Daddy I couldn’t get home, Jake…” Roberta chimed in sounding less assertive even than she felt.

Roberta swung his hard gaze to his daughter and glared. “Get your tail over to the barn right now young lady, you and me are about to have a long, long talk.”

Roberta gasped and then blushed as she shot a glare at Jake, but she didn’t need telling twice and scurried away without meeting either man’s eyes.

“Sir, perhaps…” Jake put in, but then paused.

Robert swung around and looked the younger man up and down. Then his expression softened down to regular severe. “I have no doubt that you are an honourable man and I thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

Jake nodded. “Then you have no objection to me calling on her?”

Robert pursed his lips thoughtfully and then gave a small nod. “You can call here I guess, but you won’t be seeing her at your place for a while.”

Jake smiled and proffered his hand. “I understand Sir.”

Robert shot a glance in the direction of his daughter walking towards the barn with her nose in the air and then turned back to Jake and took his hand. “Look forward to seeing you Mr Goodman, but if you excuse me I have an unpleasant chore that needs attending to”

Jake nodded.


Roberta had finally stopped crying but her shame wasn’t over. For once instead of sending Roberta to her room to attend her ‘wounds’ he had ordered her to tuck her skirts and petticoats up to her waist and leave her draws at her ankles while she stood in the creosote-stinking corner of the barn.

Then he had left her with the command, “you can stay there a spell and think things over,” adding, “Else you and me will have another longer little talk.”

“Yes Sir,” she had sobbed, all the while wondering if she had any skin left on her bottom.

With her shiny red hiney on show to any of the hands passing by, the heat in face glowed just as hot and she stamped her foot in frustration. It had been years since she had been put to this shame. It was almost worse than the licking she had just gotten. Then she shuddered. No not quite, Daddy was mad this time.

He had taken no time to meet her in the barn.

“Reputation is everything,” he had snarled.

“Yes daddy,” she had whispered meekly in response, “But Jake knows…”

“Mr Goodman knows, I agree and if his intentions are honest… well we will see, but I don’t work on if, buts and maybes, not in this life. Nor will you.” Her father sighed.

“No Sir,” she had answered with a purse of her lips. She knew what was coming and this time the men were up and about and would hear everything. If not see, she realised in horror.

A minute later she had been bare bottom upwards over the rail while her father doubled up the strop.

“When I am done you will know what God gave you a tail end for,” he said sharply, “And any sass, back chat or anything at all that isn’t a ‘yes sir’ out of your mouth and I’ll send you to cut a switch when I am done and welts like worms on top of what you are getting.”

“Yes Sir,” she mumbled.

It had been bad, bottom-blazing wrath of heaven bad. Her seared sitting-skin had sung louder than she had, and still raged now so that it was all she could do not to dance around and stick her hiney out to any passing eyes. By convention and orders her hands were planted on her head and well away from rubbing her bottom. She absolutely dared not grab her tail; the switch was not to be considered. Especially if her father handled things the way her mother had: sent to cut it from the yard with her hiney already well-bared.

As it was her father left her to mull it over for over an hour, an hour that seemed more like a week by the time she was sent to her room.


Later that week Jake arrived for supper as arranged.

At first he seemed a dot on the horizon, then a fast moving silhouette across the grassland. Roberta, who had been standing vigil for his arrival for almost an hour, hugged the porch post in expectation as he her eyes scanned the approaching horseman to confirm his identity.

The butterflies in her tummy got more active now and she was aware of her own breath as if she had forgotten the basics of respiration.

“Is that your young man?” Her father chuckled from behind her, as if it could be anyone else out here.

“He is not my…” Roberta flushed and then the irritated glare to her father softened and turned to a shy smile.

Her father smiled back and winked.

At that moment the residual tenderness in her bottom from the licking her father had given her just days before reasserted herself and with a strange nostalgia she guessed that was the last spanking her daddy would ever give her.

“Do you like him?” she whispered.

“I guess I do,” Robert Rand-Daly said decisively.

The horseman closed quickly now and suddenly Jake was in the yard grinning as he wheeled the horse. No one commented on the fact that he was wearing his Sunday best as he dismounted.

“Good evening sir,” he said, adding politely, “Ma’am,” As he tipped his hat.

“Oh Jake,” Roberta joshed him and trotted forward to hug him.

“Come in Jake,” Robert smiled broadly, “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Don’t mind if I do sir,” Jake responded while still holding on to Roberta for a second too long.

“Robert, call me Robert,” Robert said and led the way into the house.


In the weeks that followed Jake called more and more often until he was given to riding over for dinner without a specific invitation. On one of these visits Jake and Robert found themselves smoking on the porch together while Roberta did the dishes.

“I expect you are working yourself up to ask me something,” Robert said as he sucked on his pipe.

Jake frowned for a second but caught the older man nodding his head in the direction of his daughter in the kitchen. He sighed, “I reckon I am,” Jake said.

“I own twice as much land as you do, but reckon that isn’t your interest right now,” Robert continued.

“No Sir,” Jake agreed. “Do I have permission to ask Robert for her hand in marriage?” He didn’t know how else to put it now that the subject had been raised.

“Finally,” Robert chuckled.

There was an uncomfortable silence as they both took a drag on their pipes. Jake waited on edge for an answer.

Instead Robert looked thoughtful. “Roberta needs pretty firm handling, if you know what I mean?”

“I do sir,” Jake agreed.

“Do you? My Alice didn’t, not really. She was always the sensible one. Oh I had cause to put her across my knee from time to time, I mean all women need that… leastways my Alice did and told me so.” Robert blew a smoke ring. “No a spanking is one thing, but Roberta is headstrong. She will need a trip to the barn or woodshed more often than you might think. Hell you will probably wear out more leather and tree switches long before you wear her out.”

Jake frowned and wondered if he should argue. “My business surely,” he said at last.

Robert laughed.

“Jake Goodman don’t you think you should ask a girl before you talk about such things?” Roberta snarled angrily as she came on to the porch.

Robert frowned. “See what I mean? Someone has been eavesdropping.”

“I think I am beginning to,” Jake chuckled.

Robert tapped out his pipe and smiled indulgently. “Reckon I’ll step inside for a spell and let you two talk,” he said.

Roberta stood with pursed lips watching as her father retreated before turning to Jake. “Well?”

Jake opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again in a firm line.

“Did you ask him?” she pressed him. “Did he say yes?”

“I guess so,” Jake realised he hadn’t exactly had a straight answer. “He said…”

He was cut off by his future wife rushing at him and kissing him in a clumsy embrace as if the world would end.

“W-wait,” Jake pushed her away, but he was grinning.  Then he knelt.

Roberta hugged herself and could not help dancing up and down like a child waiting for candy.

Jake cocked a warning eyebrow and she settled down to a more composed demure stance.

“Roberta Rand-Daly… will you do me the honour of being my wife?” he said in a serious voice.

Roberta sighed and pursed her lips. “Well… maybe,” she teased, “About this spanking you are supposed to give me…”

Jake studied her with a hard stare.

“Oh yes….” She squealed and they were embracing again.

Finally they broke away and Roberta walked to the edge of the porch to take in the sunset with a faraway gaze.

“Well I guess… maybe we should tell your Pa…?” Jake grinned.

“Not so fast,” Roberta said thoughtfully. “I heard what daddy said… I guess he is right, I do need a spanking… very occasionally you understand…” she whirled around to look at him. “But as for taking me to the barn for a good licking… I mean… I think we should talk about that…”

Jake smiled a smile that only reached his eyes as a hint. “Oh we’ll talk alright and I’ll spank you too, often, but if you ever go crossing wild rivers or anything like it again I’ll build a whole barn just for you and when we have done ‘talking’ you won’t sit down for a month.”

Roberta pouted and unconscious hands strayed to her behind. “Are all you ranching men the same?”

“Probably,” Jake chuckled.

Roberta took his arm and they both gazed out towards the wild Red River where it all began.