Our story began here.
Katherine and Mary had not moved from their wall time mooning the room for more than half an hour and it was beginning to get to work on their nerves as Alice had intended.
“I warned you that from now on I would be completely uncompromising,” Alice sighed.
“Yes Ma’am,” Katherine said breathily.
“Mary?” the governess said sharply.
“Yes Ma’am,” Mary said hastily now that she knew a response was required.
“So I have decided to punish each of your errors separately and fully. They will form part of your training so I hope you benefit from the experience,” Alice explained in a crisp voice.
It was a side to her they had not much seen since the early days. They supposed that this stern demeanour was to make up for any dereliction.
“So let me see… and do speak up if I am incorrect in my assessment or I miss anything out…” she continued. “You were late back, you were drunk, no doubt your intoxication, however slight, led to indecorous behaviour in town… did you talk to anyone… men perhaps?”
“One Ma’am,” Katherine said honestly, remembering the barman.
“One is too many while you are under training,” Alice sighed, “So we have… four offences, three of which are very serious.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Katherine agreed, followed a beat later by Mary.
Both women stood hard to attention and were blinking rapidly as they tried to focus on the wall just inches from their noses. Their posture emphasised the curve of their backs and made their bare bottoms jut out just so as if offered up for correction. The posture made Alice feel quite proud. But as she had learned during her own training, when a girl gets it, it is not the time to take one’s foot of the gas.
“Tomorrow you will rise at six and dress in such a way that you are fully attired, but your behinds are exposed as they are now. You may eat breakfast, in fact I suggest that you do, but by 6.45 sharp mind you, you will be facing the wall in the kitchen with your hands upon your heads to await your first spanking for tardiness,” Alice informed them.
They would stew on that overnight, she thought coolly. Then she paused before continuing. “Then we will proceed to the more serious offences. Moving outside you will learn how to cut a switch and the makings for a birch rod. After correctly bundling the latter we will observe the correct application and methods of the former. Then we will study a good old fashioned strap in action out in the woodshed.”
Both women sighed heavily and Alice noted Katherine’s eyes close in resignation. Mary on the other hand widened hers in gentle horror as she considered their fate.
“After returning to the house for some well-earned corner time and an opportunity to recover, we will then explore the thorough application of the birch to a thoroughly tender and humbled bare bottom,” Alice continued, “Any questions?” she added.
Katherine shook her head and Mary chewed at her lip as if holding back a tide of pleading.
“Sinclair girls answer clearly and promptly when they are addressed,” Alice said sharply. Don’t let up on the gas, she reminded herself, but she was feeling rather mean all the same.
“No Ma’am, no questions,” Katherine said with confidence.
“No Ma’am,” Mary agreed.
“Good, now get yourselves off to bed,” Alice barked.
There was something about the morning light that promised an intense day. Even the birdsong seemed auspicious and for Mary never had the dawn chorus seemed so sharp. But maybe that was because standing half naked facing the kitchen wall left her more exposed to the new day than usual.
Next to her with an equally bare bottom stood Katherine, who despite the indignity of their predicament managed her usual poise with aplomb. Not for the first time Mary wondered if she would ever be so gracious and elegant.
Katherine had even been together enough to manage a light breakfast before she had prepared herself, something that Mary could not even contemplate.
“Do you think she is going to be long?” Mary whispered after they had been standing at wall time for almost 20 minutes.
“Be quiet,” Katherine replied, her voice barely audible, “If she hears you, you will only make it worse for both of us.”
“You think it could get any worse,” Mary sighed miserably.
“You bet it can, but buck up will you, we signed on for this and we deserve it,” the older woman whispered.
“But…” Mary sounded as if she might whine.
“Shhh,” Katherine soothed, risking a side turn in order to give her friend a light punch on the arm.
“Okay,” Mary said resignedly and sighed.
It was another 30 minutes before Alice arrived but if she was pleased she had been obeyed she made no sign of it.
“Did one of you think to fetch the hairbrush?” she asked brusquely.
Katherine and Mary exchanged glances before the elder shook her head. Mary just anxiously bit at her lower lip.
“We’ll use the one on my dresser, fetch it will you Mary,” Alice said in an officious tone as she pulled a kitchen chair away from the table and made to sit on it.
Glad for the smallest reprieve from corner time, Mary hastened away to do as she had been told.
“She still reminds me of a timid rabbit sometimes,” Alice said lightly and smiled.
Katherine heaved a sigh. Holding on to her dignity was a trial. A private punishment with two dozen across the bare was one thing, but a semi-public over-the-knee session was humiliating at her age.
“Whereas you have always reminded me of me,” Alice continued.
“Even standing in the corner like an errant teen?” Katherine said sullenly.
“Especially when you’re standing in the corner,” Alice chuckled. “Like you, I always found such punishments the hardest. I served in the war remember, as you would have done a few short years ago. Can you imagine? I was mortified the first time I was reduced to sobbing across Mrs Baxter’s lap and every time since come to that. You know, you never get used to it. But it did me good and it will do you good too.”
Katherine shifted in her place and took a deep breath.
“I-I suppose,” she said with an uncustomary pout.
Mary returned a moment later and gave the hairbrush to Alice without a word.
“Yes alright,” her governess said when Mary didn’t move away, “Go back and face the wall.”
Mary sighed, half-relieved that she wasn’t to be first, half regretful that she wasn’t to get it over with. Then with a slow deliberation she composed herself and turned back to the wall.
“Katherine, front and centre,” Alice said sharply and crooked her finger.
“Yes Ma’am,” the elder girl sighed and turned around.
There was no dignified way to get across someone’s knee and Katherine felt as awkward as stooping down to half-crawl and half-tumble onto Alice’s lap. She was conscious of how her bare bottom must seem overlarge and hideously exposed.
“See what I mean about never getting used to it?” Alice murmured.
“Yes Ma’am,” Katherine sighed.
Alice found Katherine’s weight strangely satisfying across her thighs and smiled in amusement as the previously dignified woman squirmed to minimise her discomfort. All in vain of course, the governess thought grimly, because discomfort was the name of the game.
The brush had some weight to it, a present from Mrs Baxter Alice remembered. She also remembered that her old governess had christened it first with a vigorous application to Alice’s bare bottom before giving it to her. From bitter experience she knew that it could impart a sting sore-making spanking that could leave a girl unseated for a week.
Katherine’s bottom was both firm and yielding as the first biting smack cracked down. She hissed in acknowledgement but otherwise held herself. The second, third and fourth spanks had no better reaction either but at number five Katherine groaned.
By then two red ovals had formed on the crests of both of her bottom cheeks and as the spanking progressed these stains became deeper and sharper in colour. These marks also slowly spread out as they became darker and the puffiness at the edges, where the spanking had welted Katherine’s bottom, soon became slightly swollen into tender pads.
Alice knew that a prolonged spanking would cause the spanked areas to become leathery for a time, this where the flesh tightened and already she could see ever more closely knit goosebumps described on the tortured skin
“Ah,” Katherine yelled as the umpteenth spank landed and ever after her cries became shriller.
There was no begging though, or protests of pain or promises. Katherine merely grew ever more laboured in her breathing until she was forced to cry out at each spank. There were tears too of course. No sobbing, not yet, but a sheen of moisture covered her face and dripped from her nose, although some of that might not have been merely tears.
Finally Katherine broke into honking great howls and she jerked in a scissor motion at each heavy thwack.
Alice had no idea how many spanks there had been or how long she had spanked the girl, but her training told her to add at least three to five minutes from this point to make sure the lesson was learned. Stopping on the cusp could leave a girl coming back for more too soon.
It was a pity though that Katherine had proved so tough as now her bottom was a crimson tender wreck and further chastisement was going to be purgatory on the girl.
“That’s a good girl,” Alice sighed, patting her charge on the small of her back and helping her up.
Katherine rocked with sobs and reached for a handkerchief.
“Thank you Miss Bowman,” Katherine said, remembering her manners.
“Now back to the wall with you and put your hands on your head,” she was told.
“Yes Ma’am,” Katherine sniffed.
Mary’s spanking was no less severe but unlike Katherine she let go with some heartfelt howls from the very first. Now both young women were crying gently as they again faced the wall.
Katherine had been there for some 20 minutes already and another 30 or so would settle them down for the next lesson. Alice was just considering that when the back door rattled and a masculine voice yelled out, “Grocery delivery, coming through.”
Alice was as startled as the two punished women and before she had time to make a decision the man came in.
“Jesus lady this is heavy,” he cursed as he staggered in with a pile of three great boxes and placed them on the kitchen table. “Any chance of a coffee?” he added.
Alice didn’t quite know what to say but she did note with pride that neither girl had moved, although from their fidgeting demeanour they looked as if they wished they could flee.
“Eh… coffee?” Alice repeated, recovering herself.
“Sure, I don’t mind if I…” the man who had been wiping off his neck with a rag suddenly froze and gaped, finishing at a gasp with “…do…?”
“A little domestic problem…” Alice said casually, “I had to spank them.”
“Yeah…” the man muttered, “Maybe I should… eh… go…”
“No, why should you?” Alice said firmly, coming to a decision, “Coffee yes, please sit down, I’ll make you some.”
To be continued…
Filed under: DJB stories, domestic, F/F, history, retro, spanking stories | 3 Comments
Tags: 1950s, corner time, mentor, mentoring, OTK, public corner time, spanking
The 1960s post last week prompted some memories and some general interest. A couple of people have asked about the Man Alive report mention. I did look for this when I wrote the post having seen it sometime ago on either YouTube or the Daily Motion. Sadly these things get culled due to copyright infringements and I wrote the exchange largely from memory. If it does resurface I will post the link.
I was sent this lovely cheeky anecdote from the period. Kate (now long retired, she says) used to work as a secretary in an ad agency in the late 1960s. Her boss used to find reasons to give the girls in the office a spank now and again. It was all good fun but remember these were the days of the mini skirt so bending over to touch your toes tended to give everyone a cheap thrill.
One day, my friend Margaret who was often on the receiving end of a smack, decided to play a trick on him by taking her knickers off. So when she bent over she gave him more than he was bargaining on. The joke was on her rather as she got a few extra swats. But there was no malice in it and it was all a bit of fun. I can’t see it happening today sadly, too many lawyers.
At least Margaret didn’t cry. Kia talks about tears in her post over at Acknowledging Imperfection. A thought provoking and intimate look at the realities of getting what you wish for.
Vanilla Spanking has a post on Oh Calcutta and Hair, with a few spanking scenes by some surprising authors.
It is also worth mentioning that Bonnie is back.
Filed under: web round-up, Weekly Round-up | 1 Comment
Tags: spanking, spanking blogs
The 1960s was a challenging time for spanking and spanking enthusiasts. Before this decade spanking was seen as a necessary evil, just and yes fun. After the 60s it was sexy and risqué even before people began to realise that spanking and feminism can mix.
The Sixties was a time when Black and White met Technicolor, an allegory for a clash of attitudes if ever there was one.
But during the 1960s it was still too close to home for the mainstream to be comfortable with sex and spanking and only the right wing were still pushing the ‘just but fun’ line in the guise of John Wayne and a few others.
To the youth it was seen as old hat and no swinging girl would freely admit that they were still getting spanked by their old man, married or not. Spanking was order, and order just wasn’t cool.
But still it had its champions and that primeval urge did not just go away. Here are a few snippets from that decade for some flavour.
Lady CW speaking to the Women’s Institute in 1966 said, “Mods and Rockers, I see no very great difference between them and the Teddy boys and bobby-soxers. In my day we had flappers, it is all the same. Bad behaviour is bad behaviour, and if I had so indulged in my youth, then I would have had a damn good spanking on my bare behind and I would have deserved it.”
The TV documentary Man Alive took a closer look at the problem. Interviewing some 20-somethings outside a club they asked about ‘the breakdown of society and falling standards of the young.’
“Should you be out so late do you think?” asked an awfully Etonian reporter of a woman in a black and white mini dress.
“I don’t see what’s wrong with it,” she replied in pure Essex.
“Do your parents know you are out?” he persists.
“I am over 21, I can do what I like,” she replied indignantly.
But surely this is a revolution? The upper class reporter is clearly shocked.
Then another woman, over excited by the presence of TV cuts in with, “My old man don’t know I am here.” She laughs.
“Your father?” the reporter asks eagerly, excited perhaps by an implied admission of wrong-doing.
“Me ‘usband,” she cackles, “If he finds out I’ve been to a club while he’s working then I’ll get a good hiding.” She laughs again.
“Well he might find out now,” the reporter says smugly.
“He might,” she laughs.
“Does this disturb you?” the reporter is now sounding concerned.
“Nah, he would only wallop my arse,” she reassures him.
The revolution did not end there however. Such exchanges are hard to imagine today, but the 1960s are as far removed from us now as Elvis was from Edwardian London. Here is a vox pop taken from among young women at the time. This was following a series of much publicised cases of domestic spanking.
I am not sure what recent events triggered it, but at the time there was the Helston case and the Darren Nesbit case, where he got a small fine for spanking his wife.
Q: Do you think it is acceptable to spank women?
Respondent 1: Depends what they have done I suppose.
Q: So you do think there are some times when it is justified?
R 1: Yes, there is nothing wrong with it. I don’t hold with fists and that though.
Q: Where you ever spanked, as an adult I mean?
Respondent 1: Sometimes.
Q: By your husband.
Q: Would you object if he did?
R1: he probably should sometimes, I wouldn’t mind, well you know, if I deserved it.
Q: How old is too old for a woman to get a spanking?
R2: I don’t know really. If she is living at home then it is up to whoever. Least that’s the way it was with us.
Q: But what about married women.
R2: Oh well that’s different, I think a man needs to take charge. Nothing wrong with a spanking to put you in your place.
Q: Has your husband ever spanked you?
R2: Yes, many times
Q: Do you think it is acceptable to spank women?
R3: No never, once a woman is over 21 she should be able to live her own life, not in this day and age.
Q: What about if she is under 21?
R3: If she is married, absolutely not.
Q: What if she is still living at home?
R3: That would depend then I suppose.
There was more of this but most of it was much the same, with opinions being split down the middle.
These Man Alive archives and UK Attitude surveys can be found online, but Google reader throws up dozens of pictures and cartoons from the time that show spanking was very much still around.
I was too young in the 1960s and my awareness was based upon an earlier age of old movies. The subtleties of the great changes that obviously went well beyond spanking was something that a I benefitted from but did not contribute to.
I do remember an interview with a bunny girl at the time who shyly admitted that her husband had spanked her with her father’s approval when he found out she had taken the job. Compare this with Miley Cyrus.
Filed under: articles, history, real life, retro, spanking, web round-up | 11 Comments
Tags: 1960s, OTK, spanking
Time was running out and summer had passed her by. Even the late September reprieve of sunshine felt fragile, as if the lightest breeze would blow it away in favour of autumn. The trees, which like her hair, were a copper brown but there was a dryness to them that reminded her of death and lost loves.
Bryana turned 40 this month, not old by any standard but it felt as if her youth was on borrowed time. Two husbands had come and gone now, marriages scattered as fickle as the wind. One had been a disaster and she would not dwell on it and the child-self who had made such reckless choices. The second… well she thought, it had been fine while it lasted…
The wind picked up then and she held her breath as if fearing winter would sweep in on the tail of its breeze. Then after a swirl of red-brown confetti, it died down.
Her heart swelled with longing and she cast her gaze back to the little town she had chosen for a lonely weekend break. At least the pub would have a fire with gin and tonic to offer some self-medication.
She found the Hart and Hound almost empty at this time of day and consequently no one had deemed it necessary to light the fire. It was warm enough, she supposed, but out of the autumn sunshine the old oak beams cast a chill shadow. But maybe that was just her.
In another month or two she would cast off the melancholy and look forward to mulled wine and a more decided season. She smiled. Perking up, Bryana found the old brass bell on the dark wood counter and rang it twice.
The legend above the door boasted that the pub was 13th century and the service was just as antiquated. It was certainly taking an age.
“Can I buy you a drink?” said a smoky rich voice and she made a half turn to confront its owner.
The man was neither tall nor short, but he filled out the Arran sweater well enough and had it not been for a thick head of steel grey hair she would have taken him for her own age. Usually she went for the cuddly silver fox uncle types, but this man was too slim for cuddles and his face had a hard severe look to it that reminded her of someone’s angry father. Resting bitch face, she thought and stifled a smirk. Maybe for men that should be resting bastard face, she thought.
“It isn’t obligatory, but manners might suggest the merest of answers,” the man said sharply.
“I didn’t realise you were talking to me,” she shot back at him, giving as good as she got.
As soon as she said it she wondered if a polite sorry proceeding her words might have softened the tone.
The Fox almost smiled and did a slow sweep of the empty bar with his eyes.
Bryana blushed angrily, she felt slightly foolish. Both emotions must have shown on her face because the stern father-look sharpened. Then the man shrugged and turned away.
“G&T,” Bryana blurted.
The Fox made a slow turn of his head to regard her sourly, giving her the full benefit of his RBF.
“You offered me… eh a drink,” she prompted him, “Bryana, Bryana Jones…” she felt awkward for a moment and then tentatively proffered a hand.
“Jack Angram,” he said firmly and for the first time he smiled. His eyes were kind and twinkled blue as he took her hand and all but crushed it. “A lovely but unusual name,” he continued.
“I might say the same about yours,” she said and then winced. What was she saying?
“What Jack?” his eyes twinkled again.
“Angram, I meant,” she let her teeth meet in a defensive row and wondered if the floor had a trap door.
“Gin,” he laughed, “I can see that you need one.”
“So what…?” she began after the barman finally surfaced to serve them.
At the same moment he said, “You here on holiday?”
She giggled and he signalled that her question should take precedence.
The conversation became easier after that and three gins in she was feeling mellow as the conversation shook loose.
“You were married then?” she asked as casually as she could.
“Not as recently as you,” he sighed.
“No hurry then?” she licked her lips.
He did a half shrug. “She left me for one of her casuals,” he said mysteriously, “I obviously didn’t spank her enough.”
Bryana gaped and executed a quick head shake. Maybe she misheard. “I’m sorry.”
“You know, we had a DD thing. When she got out of line I used to spank her,” he let his eyes rest on his beer as if it might lurch at him, the RBF back in place.
“You used to spank her?” Bryana gasped, “No wonder she left you.”
She wanted to bolt for the exit, but something held her, there was a story here.
“I told you, we had a DD thing, but she was more into the whole slave bit. She had casuals who used to role play some Gorean shit. Sorry, pardon my language,” he was smiling again.
“A DD thing?” Bryana asked.
“Domestic Discipline, you know I would spank her if she got out of line… but for me it is about caring and guidance. She was into more theatrical pain…” Jack might as well have been talking Chinese but Bryana’s head rush tugged at her elsewhere too and she thought about a book she once read.
“Doesn’t spanking hurt then?” she asked.
“Of course and it’s meant to, and it wasn’t as if we didn’t do the other stuff… it is just that I didn’t need her to be naked on her knees at 5pm holding my slippers when I got home…” he snorted.
“No… I can see that,” Bryana said somewhat tensely, then she giggled.
What am I doing here? The mantra ran through Bryana’s head over and over as she ascended the stairs to Jack’s flat. Maybe it was too many gins or too much boredom but this time curiosity and a sense of adventure had urged her to accept his advances.
“You asked about DD and you’re going to find out,” Jack said lightly as he extended an inviting arm for her to lead the way through the door. “Remember you can leave at any time and the safe words are…”
“Indian Summer, I know,” Bryana giggled. She had no idea what safe words were or why she needed them. If she wanted him to stop or to get out then she would.
“You’re not taking this seriously,” Jack growled.
“Well…” Bryana drawled in a dismissive sigh.
Jack stopped and invested a good moment in RBF before barking, “You can go or you can stay, but while you are here you will respect my lifestyle.”
His tone was hard and she felt a shiver down her spine. The idea that he might be a maniac ready to whisk her off to slavery in some exotic country trilled in her and she knew she wasn’t that drunk.
“I’ll stay,” she said defensively, feeling like a scolded teen.
“Okay, but one more show of disrespect and I’ll spank you,” he replied casually.
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks at this. It was almost as if he were serious, seriously serious, she amended and that he was not just playing a game.
“Alright,” he said using a gentle paternal manner as he drew her towards him.
She was shy now and inclined her head until he lightly held her chin and raised her face. Before she could say anything he kissed her and her tummy did a flip. Then pulling her in close, he embraced her tightly so that he could kiss her more deeply.
The only sound she made was her breathing and she hugged him back, now grateful for some masculine attention.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” she murmured as he kissed her again, “I mean today has been a bit of a downer if I am honest but…”
“Bryana,” Jack said sharply, “Stop talking.”
“Yes Sir,” she half-giggled and allowed herself to be lowered onto his sofa.
She was almost carried away before she remembered something. “I have to go…” she said breathlessly and pointed to what she presumed was the bathroom.
He nodded and sat up.
“Another drink?” he said easily.
She shook her head and smiled at him softly. A one night stand, why not?
Once in the bathroom she quickly checked her bag for any necessary and then confident she was protected even if he wasn’t prepared, she quickly got undressed. After a pause she stripped down naked before putting her blouse back on.
One of her BGFs had told her about the three Ss. Sexy, Safe and Sensible. Despite the condom in her blouse top pocket she was feeling naughty.
“Sexy hell yes, safe and sensible can go hang,” she aped a movie accent in the mirror before slinking back into the bedroom.
Jack smiled when he saw her and sat back like a king on a throne. “I like it,” he said throatily, “But no one said you should get undressed.”
She blew him a kiss and whispered in her best Lauren Bacall, “Don’t you think you are taking this Lord and Master crap too far?”
Jack shook his head in disbelief, but he was smiling manfully. “What did I say?”
“Oh, sorry, but don’t you think all of that is a bit ridiculous…” she didn’t get to finish as he stood up and seized her firmly before tumbling her down across his lap.
His hard thighs beneath made her tummy flip again and his firm grip on her wrists was positively primeval. But she was suddenly aware that the hem of her shirt had ridden up to expose her bare bottom. All at once she was vulnerable and embarrassed and…. and…
Now he had pinned her right wrist into the small of her back with his left and was smoothing the flesh of her bottom.
“What did I say?” Jack rasped.
“Is it spanking time already?” Bryana quipped. She felt a little foolish with all the roleplay and her mocking tone helped her retain some control.
His hand stung her sharply and her breath escaped her noisily. It hurt worse than she was expecting and she groaned.
The next spank was harder and she bucked.
“Hey,” she said and tried to reach back to rub her bottom, “Not so… ahh…”
The spanks fell slowly but with an edge and she was soon struggling to take an even breath as her bottom was seriously beginning to sting.
“Okay, yah, ah… ooh,” she moaned as she began to yell, “Hey this isn’t… eh… f-funny…”
“No the fun part comes later, well for me anyway, this is the spanking you were promised for disrespect,” Jack told her as he spanked away.
“B-but…” she was panting now and her bottom was really beginning to burn. She was even close to crying a little.
Jack was putting some serious force into the spanks now, great sweeps of his arm ended with his palm some inches beyond the surface of her bottom.
“Stop, stop, stop…” she wailed.
He did abruptly.
“You want to go?” Jack asked in annoyance.
“N-no b-but…” Bryana panted.
The spanking resumed with gusto and she yelped. No, there were definitely tears in her eyes now, she was actually getting a spanking, not just love pats.
“Please Jack, please,” she sobbed.
Jack didn’t but as he eased up a little he said sharply, “You can go, you can stay or since it’s your first time and I am not actually responsible for you, you can use the safe words.”
He said all this without pausing and the spanking if anything now got sharper.
Indian Summer, she thought, now bawling like a kid before she realised she hadn’t actually said it.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I get it now, I didn’t mean to… ahhh-haa,” she sobbed.
Still she hadn’t broken. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Apology accepted,” Jack said suddenly and set her on her feet.
Bryana slapped her hands to both bottom cheeks and danced around the room wailing.
“You b-bar…” she caught his gaze just in time before ruefully saying, “Bar steward.”
“Still think I am playing?” he growled.
“No,” she said sullenly.
“Good, now you can go and stand in the corner,” he told her.
“What?” she gasped. But she could see he wasn’t joking.
“And put your hands on your head,” he ordered.
“This is too much… I mean…”
Jack stood up and sighed heavily.
“Okay, okay, I’m doing it alright,” she wailed, “But this isn’t funny and it isn’t damn well sexy,” she pouted.
He crossed the room behind her so that she tensed in nervous anticipation. His hand clamped her firmly between her thighs and pressed her to her groan.
“No?” he whispered closely into her ear so that she felt his breath, “What’s this then, autumn rain?”
“The other stuff,” she whispered urgently, “You said ‘it wasn’t like you didn’t do the other stuff,’ to your wife I mean…?”
“You mean enemas, figging, anal plugs…?” he said in a darkly amused voice.
“Too rich for this little girl’s blood, I think,” he chuckled, “At the moment anyway.” Then he whispered something.
“Look I don’t really… I mean if I knew you better… not that I would swal… you know…” she gulped. Rather appropriately, he thought.
“Then I’ll just have to spank you again,” he whispered.
“What? But that’s… that’s blackmail,” she gasped.
He reached up and stroked her hair.
“I am going to spank you again anyway,” he chuckled, “But we could always do the other.”
She gulped again and it rained a little harder.
“I don’t have my toys with me though, so we would have to improvise,” he said moving closer.
Still facing the wall, she didn’t know if he was naked, but she felt his hot hardness pressing against her sore bottom.
She moaned and closed her eyes. “Do the safe words cover that?”
“We don’t need words, you’re safe,” he soothed, “It is just your bottom that is imperilled. Unless you want to leave that is?”
“N-no,” she breathed, “Please…”
“You stand there for a little while and think about it,” he told her, “Then I am going to spank you properly. Then you can choose which game we play… this time.”
She swallowed hard and flushed, oh God, she thought. “And… and… and… then what?” she whispered.
“Well if you are a good girl… well then I might satisfy you,” he rasped, drawing near again. “If not… then oh dear, your poor bottom.”
Filed under: DJB stories, M/F, spanking stories | 12 Comments
Tags: corner time, OTK, spanking
Not so much of a sigh but the start of a tear that would fall if she blinked. So she did not blink, even though the computer screen shook and wobbled before her.
She traced the keys with her fingers, letting the pads race in between the letters, lingering around the “f” and the “k”.
“F” she whispered, “F, F, F, F, F.”
A tear escaped, betraying her as it fell.
“F for Fuck.” There, she said it. She said the word and nothing collapsed, and no one died.
But she was on her own and she was whispering. She was sitting on the sofa wearing pink pyjamas and drinking hot milk.
“Possibly the worst example of a kinky writer in the whole world.” She felt her whole face sink into sorrow and her shoulders dips to make her into a little ball. “I can’t even type the F word. I am the world’s biggest prude.”
That is how he found her, curled up and quiet in front on a white screen with the letter F written on it fifty seven times.
“Oh, honey,” was all he said, sitting next to her and putting one huge arm around her to draw her close.
“I just can’t do it,” she wet his tee shirt with her sobs. “I just can’t be like the other girls. I can’t talk about my p .. my p.. . Oh, my girl bits, You see? I can’t say that even to you. I can’t write about f … f.. fucking or willies or anything. I can’t. I even say ‘willies’ no one says ‘willy’ after they grow up. I am a total failure. I can’t write, I am rubbish.”
“Shhhhh,” he softened her with his voice. He understood what made her so sad before now. This was the third time he had found her upset about this although this was the first time she had cried about it.
Bridget moved closer, sitting on his lap and made a cave from his arms and chest, warm and dark she hid inside with her fears and insecurities left at the entrance. She would not think about it now. She would not think about how different she was compared to the others, how in awe she was at the way they spoke and declared themselves how she knew she would never amount to anything until she could speak without blushing and stammering the words that many of them could type out over breakfast.
“Am I ok?” she asked his ear with her lips, such a gentle question it was almost a prayer.
He answered with his hands, in her hair and then around her face, pulling her to face him. He said nothing but instead took her into his blue grey eyes and kissed the tears from where they rested on her skin.
She kissed back, a relief to feel love instead of shame, quiet little nips of kisses at first, her lips blossoming on his stubble but growing as she warmed to his comfort
“And you love me like this?” she asked, “Even though I can’t do what the others can do?”
He surprised her every time when he reacted so fast to her.
“Arggh” she called out as she seemed to fly from the safety of his arms to find herself flat on her tummy with her bottom raised over his knees.
“But I need a cuddle” she started to weep again, “Please let me up.”
“I will let you up this much,” he told her as he lifted her bum and yanked her pyjamas down, “Other than that you are right where you should be. See how long it is before you can tell me why I am spanking you.”
Of course she knew right away but she would not say. She could not say. Her shyness made everything impossible.
And so he spanked her. Hand followed hand, slap followed slap. She could feel each strike and each time her pink bottom jiggled in response. She knew how ridiculous she looked. Her swelling bottom getting pinker, her moving and kicking to try to escape his hard spanks, her pyjamas falling lower and lower and her totally unable to make the horrid stinging spanks stop.
And so he continued. Up and down her thighs and in between when she kicked, her whole bottom covered with a care that would have seemed like love if it had not been so damn painful.
“Ok ok,” she capitulated, “Please stop.”
“Tell me then.”
“Because of course you love me,” she sniffed, “You love me how I am or you would not be here.”
“Quite right.” He gave her another four loud, terrifying hard swats each one making her shout out.
“Please stop now. Please stop. I will be good, I promise.”
She scrabbled off his lap, no need to be told twice lest he start again for being slow. Without adjusting her pyjamas she knelt in front of him, waggling her stinging, red bottom out behind her as though she were a bee doing a dance.
He opened his trousers, and released his hard self to her open mouth. She took it all in, deep and secure, angling herself so that in moments her lips touched the base of him and he shuddered at the sensation.
She had never told him where she learned how to please him like that, it made her blush to talk of it but watching her down there, loving lips hard around him moving in the natural rhythm, he saw her look up at him.
She looked for all the world like a school girl bringing her homework to be checked by her school master. Her cheeks swollen with him, her tongue licking around his tip and then down and around but her eyes begging for his approval, when he gave it it was just a touch, his hand on her cheek, his thumb stroking her.
It was enough. She did not need him to say ‘Good girl,’ because she knew that was what he meant. Satisfied she was pleasing him she lowered her eyes and raised her bottom to busy herself giving him every moment of satisfaction she could. She used every aspect of herself to please him her soft cheeks, her dextrous tongue, her lips, even a soft touch of her teeth, greedily, absorbed as she was, she took him inside her seeking out the moment to make him release into her throat.
When he pushed her head off him she groaned. “But why?” she asked him, so forlorn to have lost him .
“Shhh, stay exactly where you are.”
She watched him disappear from view. As she knelt on all fours before him it took only a moment for him to get rid of the pyjamas that had fallen by her ankles and then to position her.
He knelt behind pushing her knees apart with his knees and moving her bottom to his satisfaction. He tipped it up and down and she arched her back for him keeping her just as she was placed, keen to offer whatever he wanted to take.
He nudged his way in with ease, she was so eager that her tightness accepted his straining hardness with a short push and they both gasped. Slowly he took her, using his hands to tease and pinch her nipples as she gyrated against him pushing herself hard back onto him and moving as his hips instructed.
“Touch yourself.” He grunted the command as he took hard hold of her hips knowing she would need his stability. He could tell the moment her fingers found their target, he heard her swear, he felt her shudder as she climaxed mere moments later.
“Again” he told her.
And without a moment’s hesitation she obeyed. He watched himself this time, sick as he dove in and out of her, hard muscle beneath the hard muscle of his stomach he felt her muscles contract around him, vice like ripple as she came.
Not a word from her as she lifted her hand to herself and gyrated against him, pushing and retreating like waves on rocks and this time he came too, holding her shoulder as he shook into her.
The silence came for them, letting them pant a little and sink lower to the floor. She found him again, little lips against his ear.
“Was I rude? Don’t tell anyone please. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No,” he kissed the top of her head as he held her, “I won’t tell anyone. You’re a very good girl.”
Filed under: Indigo Sigh, spanking stories | 21 Comments
Our story began here.
It had been a long few of weeks but suddenly it was all coming together. Katherine remembered her father telling her what a mess his unit made of a simple thing like marching in step during his basic training. Then how suddenly one day it all fell into place and how he had a real sense of achievement.
For Katherine and Mary that was how it felt for them now. They could both rise on time in the morning and making the bed and tidying not only their rooms, but the bathroom as well had become second nature to them. Sheets, rugs and sticking hems were all in effortless straight lines and Mary couldn’t remember the last time she had second guessed herself about her wardrobe or her taste.
Not that there hadn’t been some failures along the way. Both women’s bottoms had ached for days following a spanking for some small error or another. Alice had been true to her word on that account and both had suffered prolonged tear-making excursions across her lap for childish slips like elbows on the table, a failing of Mary’s; and forgetting to purchase laundry soap, a careless uncharacteristic oversight of Katherine’s.
It was rare that Mary had got to see Katherine punished so casually and so publically. As the sensible one, Katherine had usually only been treated to epic chastisements or else semi-private ones in either Alice’s or her own room. But twice in the previous weeks Mary had seen the older girl stripped of her slip and panties to be placed across Alice’s lap to be soundly spanked until she was bawling like a kid.
Nor had the disgrace ended there. After all such spankings, even the trivial ones, the miscreant had been sent to the corner in prominent place like the kitchen by the back door and made to stand hands on head for at least an hour with their red bottoms displayed.
Neither was over the knee spankings the worst of it. More serious failings had been corrected with the cane or prison strap and on one occasion they had both been birched raw until they had been lefty unable to sit down for the remainder of the week.
As Alice had promised, both women had become experts in just about every way there was to make a bare bottom the sorest thing imaginable.
All this they reflected upon as they sat comfortably for the first time in days. Due in no small part to their progress they had both been permitted an outing into town and with no pressing reason to return they had sought out Joe’s Bar on the edge of the seedier part of the local community.
The bar was not as down at heel as its immediate surroundings and chrome surfaces competed with glass to reflect a warm gleam on its customers. Also a row of soda fountains gave the premises a respectable look, a move designed to deflect the local law’s interest in teenage customers or more conservative town dwellers from judging ladies like Katherine and Mary too closely.
“I think we are really getting somewhere,” Mary gushed. Adding quickly, “I mean, I know you were always getting somewhere… but I didn’t think that I… well, you know what I mean…”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Katherine said easily and smiled. “And you’re wrong, I had my doubts too, I still do. I mean it is one thing to…” she topped and lowered her voice, “…one thing to take it, another to dish it out as uncompromisingly as Alice does.”
“I know, isn’t she a brick,” Mary said, still gushing.
Katherine suspected a minor crush and smiled indulgently.
“I think we are both going to do fine,” Mary said with uncharacteristic confidence, “Why don’t we have a drink to celebrate?”
“Let’s,” Katherine said breezily and put down the soda, “Beer?”
One beer had led to two and by the third Mary had to burp.
“I think I have had enough,” she said, slurring a little.
“Well it’s…” she consulted a small watch pinned to her tastefully hugging pink sweater. “Oh my gosh… time to go…”
“But it’s only…” Mary swivelled round on the bar stool holding her shapely hips to take in the clock, “Cripes… we’re late…”
Katherine grimaced as she stood up and downed the last of her beer.
“Hey ladies, can I get you another couple?” Joe asked as the two prettiest girls in the joint looked like they were leaving.
“No thank you we both have to get home to Momma,” Katherine quipped and feeling sassy and bold gave him a wink.
“Aw come on, what’s she gonna say?” Joe winked back and chuckled.
“Do you mean before or after she spanks us both?” Katherine said giving Joe another wink.
Mary blanched a little and gave her friend a joshing punch on the arm.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” she gasped. “Don’t tell him.”
“I didn’t,” Katherine sighed, now blushing a little herself, “But you just did.”
Joe’s easy smile, adopted when he thought Katherine was joking, now broke into a wide leery grin.
“I didn’t…” and then she glanced at Joe and blushed, “Oh…”
Katherine and Mary stood dressed only in their bras and stockings as they faced the wall in the kitchen. They had been required to stand not only with their noses and toes touching the wall, but also their knees so that they held a slight crouch position that served to make their bare bottom stick out in a highly undignified way.
Holding the pose at all was a challenge but after 15 minutes it was becoming positively uncomfortable.
“Half drunk and late,” Alice repeated for the third time since they had got back. The exasperation in her voice revealed her disbelief and although neither woman could take their face from the wall to look, both knew their governess well enough to know she was shaking her head.
“Sorry Ma’am,” Katherine said miserably. She could kick herself, she really could. It was such a schoolgirl error.
Mary felt the blood rise in her face and she remembered Joe at the bar. I bet when he pictured them getting a spanking he didn’t imagine this.
“Well sorry don’t cut it sister, not today,” Alice was furious. They had both been so close. “When I calm down a bit I am going to spank you, I mean really spank you. But that will be just to take the edge off so I can get creative.”
“Yes Ma’am,” both disgraced women chorused.
“Team work, I like that,” Alice sighed, and eyed the two bare bottoms side by side, rather like a team hitched to a wagon she mused. “Before I am done you will be yelling in tandem, crying in tandem and…”
“Sorry Ma’am, I know we deserve it,” Mary said miserably, now close to tears.
“Deserve what, the cane, the paddle, the strap?” Alice shot back, “All of them, one after the other?”
“If you think so,” Katherine said woodenly.
“If I think so,” Alice repeated, she wasn’t mad now, they were learning after all. “One thing is certain, by the time I am done these will be the two sorriest most blistered bottoms in the county.”
Katherine swallowed and cursed inwardly yet again. From anyone else’s lips that would have been an exaggeration, but she Katherine knew all too well that this was no idle threat and the county wasn’t in it. She would be very surprised if Mary and her weren’t about to get the sorest bottoms in the state.
To be continued…
Filed under: DJB stories, F/F, retro, spanking stories | 4 Comments
Tags: 1950s, can't sit down, corner time, mentor, mentoring, OTK, spanking
Rain, rain, go away, come again another day… What looked like a promising Indian summer has been unceremoniously washed away in an October downpour. More on Indian summers later maybe…
Speaking of short stories and novellas, and we weren’t, LSF have released another collection of mine; a collection of previously released novellas in case you missed the plug last week.
This week’s round-up is picture heavy but it is worth mentioning articles on theatrical spankings included on the Spank Statement and Vanilla Spanking, see the photographs above. Ronnie Soul also has a round-up of new blogs.
Other pictures are from: Dallas, AAA, Yeowch, Scarlet’s Real Magic, Richard Windsor, Acknowledging Imperfection, CutiePie, Devlin O’Neil, Chicago Spanking Review, All Things Spanking, Spanking Blogg and About Spanking.
Filed under: web round-up, Weekly Round-up | 7 Comments
Tags: spanking, spanking blogs
LSF have published another of their box sets. This time you have the opportunity to buy four novellas for less than the price of one. Two are recent romances and two have more have a mentoring theme. All are M/F scenarios but so are more intense than others.
The Semester of Standing for Supper, for instance, is set in a college where Spankmanship is on an English country estate and explores a sub-Dom marriage on the fringes of a kind of BDSM community.
Tamed by the Cossack and The Sheikh, are both classic fish-out-of-water romances with OTK spanking.
Here is the publishers blurb:
With over 100,000 words this box set features a further 4 spanking fiction novellas by DJ Black at a specially discounted price:
Tamed by the Cossack: The tempestuous Princess Sofia disobeys her father, Prince Molotov, and ventures out into the snow-covered forest where she gets stranded. When woodsman, Ivan Ivanov, comes to her rescue her subsequent rudeness results in a spanking. However, that is the least of her problems as the weather has turned and, unable to return home, Sofia has to spend the next few months in Ivan’s hut, where she is subject to his discipline. So begins her relationship with this man of lowly rank, and an unspoken love develops between them. But when Spring arrives she is escorted home, where her father, disgruntled by her now tarnished reputation, marries her off to an ageing Count. However, unexpected events occur and Sophia is taken captive. Who will save her now…?
The Sheikh & the Discipline of the Desert: Journalist Megan will go to any lengths for a story, which is how she finds herself driving through blistering heat with the intelligent and handsome Ahmed – who also happens to be Sheikh Ahmed, an Arabian prince. It isn’t long before Megan disobeys orders and earns herself a spanking. As time passes, the feisty reporter (who manages to get herself into one scrape after another) and the Arabian Prince fall in love. However, their respective cultures are vastly different and there seems to be little chance of a permanent relationship, especially given the disapproval of Ahmed’s grandfather. But maybe love will find a way…?
Spankmanship: Newly married to Gerald, Sylvia lives a life of luxury – yet she is bored. However, as she learns more about the household, she discovers that the housekeeper has a predilection for corporal punishment, and that the household staff are birched, caned and strapped. Before long, Sylvia feels the cane on her own bottom. When Gerald returns home he decides it is time for his wife to learn his rules, and over time, Sylvia learns to submit to him. She also learns that her husband is obsessed by all things spanking. Gerald has long hoped and prayed that his spoilt wife would awaken to his world … and he is not disappointed.
The Semester of Standing for Supper: Clyburn is a New England women’s college with a proud tradition of firm discipline. Hilary’s grades have been slipping and her tutor takes her to task when they next meet in his office, indicating his disappointment with two rounds of his infamous wooden paddle, topped off with the cane. Alas, there is a far more humiliating ordeal ahead for Hilary. She ends up being debagged, a quaint term for what amounts to a very public correction, and must spend the entire week with her bottom uncovered. Such is life at Clyburn, an establishment in which so many butts are blistered and their owners remain standing for supper.
If so inclined, get it here.
Filed under: DJB stories, M/F, real life, spanking stories, web round-up | Leave a Comment