Things move apace but the summer slowdown is almost upon us. They don’t call August the silly season for nothing. Speaking of slowdowns, I just realised that I haven’t continued the Sinclair Method for ages, almost a year. Where does the time go? How many other stories have I started and not continued, it must be so frustrating as a reader. Ad Astra is another that many must have lost patience with.
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Tags: spanking, spanking blogs
The second in a series of six posts on how monastic practices can help us to reflect on the life style we live.
“Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we can’t be in touch with life” – Thich Nhat Hanh
Mindfulness is taking a moment, sometimes a long moment, out to remember your self. It may be half an hour and it might be a minute but it is clarity and meaning dictated to you by no one and nothing outside yourself. It is a brief connection to reality and truth.
I forget who I am when I return from work. I hustle and bustle at work- I am ‘me’ there but only a part of me and I emphasise the parts of me that work best for other people to be the best I can be at my job. I am internalised but assertive on the Tube and as I make my way home. It would be a very insensible thing to be ‘submissive Indigo’ at work or on my way home, just as it would be silly to be ‘work Indigo’ at home. I do not have to choose a self, neither do you. You are more complex and more delightful than any one word.
“Mindfulness is simply being aware of what is happening right now without wishing it were different”– James Baraz”
I soak up the world. I think many submissives do this as we are so focussed on our relations to others- maybe the same could be said of those with dominant personalities. I find myself dragged down by the horror of suffering, by the pain, unkindness and hatred I see around me. I serve the world, as we must all do, to try to reduce the pain of it but then I refresh myself. I need to find my stillness so that I may return to the world refreshed, so that I may share my life with my lover and so that I may be in my life with me.
“If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.”
― Amit Ray
Mindfulness allows us to choose our focus, rather than have little puppy minds that follow wherever the noise or movement is. We can train our brains to focus on the moment we are in or the person we are with.
“You/I can’t spank me/you now. I am not in the mood, I had a terrible day at work and it just doesn’t feel right.” This (very normal) person cannot bring their brain to this moment and this relationship. They are stressed and cannot control their thoughts. This makes them unhappy and stops them from linking in to the experience that would soothe them.
“Don’t believe everything you think. Thoughts are just that – thoughts.”
― Allan Lokos,
Part of our lifestyle is mindfulness. It is an acute awareness of our actions and behaviours affect others and we are amongst the view adults who may be reprimanded for our ‘attitude’. As the bottom in the relationship I may get spanked for this, my boyfriend may let me down if he is not self aware. I think being spanked is the easier end of the deal.
“Feelings come and go like clouds in a windy sky. Conscious breathing is my anchor.” Thich Nhat Hanh
We must understand that how we feel about an event at this moment is not the truth. It is a snapshot that will fade. We become aware of the inner and eternal truth. For example, I can choose to snap and argue with my boyfriend because he has annoyed me. I may have a very good reason to be annoyed and allowing myself to give into that emotion feels great. But the reaction to anger and unkindness is not the truth of who we are and who I am. Mindfulness is learning to yield when I wish to fight. It is bending and staying still when I wish to run. It is allowing myself to feel sorrow at my actions because I can be aware of the long truth of us rather than how I felt in an instant.
“The Way to do is to be.” Lao Tzu
You are the person you want to be. It is here in this instant. And this one. Your mind unfurls like a flower at dawn for you to accept the light and beauty of truth.
“Keep your heart clear
And you will
Never be bound.
A single disturbed thought
Creates ten thousand distractions.”
- Some implements are meaningful. We each have implements that mean a great deal to us- to me the cane and belt carry such deep resonance that I struggle to understand what these connections mean to me. Be aware of what implements are meaningful to you and appreciate their meaning.
- Find a method of stillness that works for you. This may be in the bath, walking, running, drawing, being restrained, even actual meditation..
- Remember that all aspects of you are ‘real you’ and do not become impatient or despairing of yourself when you have difficulty allowing yourself to travel from one you to the other.
- At least once a day try to do just one thing at a time. So many of us multi task so often that we do not even realise we are doing so. Turn the radio off, put the phone aside and for ten minutes do the one task with your full attention. If you’re a submissive you may choose to do something for the one you love- but it does not matter if you are single or a dominant. It is the focus that matters.
- When I perform fellatio upon my boyfriend I do so with total concentration and dedication. I do not focus on making him orgasm but rather on each, individual element of touch , and the pleasure I can give him in exactly that moment. This is an excellent way to start to practise mindfulness.
- Try to be aware of the lies you tell yourself. It takes time to do this. These lies are little distractions from the truth of your life.
- Observe your thoughts and feelings during a calm punishment/session. How many of your thoughts are in the moment? How many are distractions?
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Tags: philosophy, spanking
Our story began here.
Alice realised that Janet and Jenny had allowed her to mark time and had given the training schedule some shape.
While they were there then keep two basically good kids in line just about justified Alice’s existence but now thing were getting serious. Mrs Baxter expected great things from Alice and the Sinclair Method and so did Katherine and Mary; her two eager volunteers.
Mary eager, what a turn up, the little mouse had come a long way and in no small part due to Alice, but this was no time to rest upon her laurels. Katherine too needed her and the governess knew she could take little credit in that direction. Even without her guidance, Alice knew that within a year or two Katherine could very well be standing in her shoes.
Not so many years before, in the dying days of the 1940s, Alice herself had come to Muriel Baxter as a cynical ex-WAVE looking for some direction. She remembered clearly standing in the hall of Sinclair’s house with her one bag and dressed to kill. She had all but dared the world and Mrs Baxter to show her something new, to show her who she really was even.
Mrs Baxter had obliged and by supper time she had found herself tumbled pell-mell over the formidable woman’s knee for a bare bottom spanking she would never ever forget.
For an ex-naval officer, corner time had been an excruciatingly embarrassing experience, especially as a dozen or so other girls and women had filed past on their way to the refractory barely batting an eyelid at her predicament.
The utter shame of exposure coupled with the casual indifference had been hard lesson in humility and one she had taken to heart.
But how to handle Katherine and Mary, that was the question. Mary needed a confidence boost, but Katherine reminded Alice of herself and had yet to be truly humbled.
“Time to get serious,” Alice sighed and took a long hard look at herself in the mirror.
Katherine and Mary too were enjoying the calm before the inevitable storm. Now that their younger friends had gone they knew that soon Alice’s entire attention would be turned upon them.
Both of them were sitting in Katherine’s room on the bed and missing the unearthly quiet that had descended now that Jenny and Janet could no longer be heard bickering. In fact the only sound was the hush of wind in the trees outside and the ticking of a clock somewhere.
It was strange in the house now. No one was being spanked and all the corners were empty of penitent girls. They both missed it and wondered what Alice was planning.
“I want this to work,” Mary said anxiously.
Katherine smiled and nodded encouragingly. “I want to go to the mother house as trainee governess, not just one of the girls. Do you think…?”
“You will easily make that, but me? I have no idea what to do. Do you think Alice is really going to teach us?” Mary gushed.
“Why don’t we ask her?” Katherine said thoughtfully.
“Oh, you know I get tongue-tied and… well you know, it is so embarrassing isn’t it?” Mary sighed.
“Hmmm,” Katherine pondered. “We could write a letter.”
Mary came alive and bounced up on the bed.
“What do you mean? A letter to Alice, but that’s silly,” Mary said, but hoped she was wrong.
“No it isn’t,” Katherine said sharply, but her mind was fixed on her idea now. “What we need to say is…”
“Please Dear Alice, hmm, we really want to make this work and we know what a great opportunity you and Mrs Baxter have offered us…” Mary offered tentatively.
“Something like that, yes,” Katherine agreed, “Let’s start a list of what we think…”
Mary nodded eagerly.
An hour later they had a half decent draft.
Dear Miss Bowman,
Can we start off by thanking you for the great opportunity that you and Mrs Baxter have offered us and we truly hope to make the most of it.
We know that there will be difficult and not to say painful times ahead for both of us, I doubt if either of us will be sitting down much for many weeks to come. But this is what we truly need and we both want to assure you that despite our girlish protests we both respect and appreciate your firm hand. If we may be so bold as to say so, never were two bare bottoms blistered so thoroughly in a good cause.
You have taught us both that there is nothing so good for a young woman as a thoroughly spanked bare bottom and a good hour or more standing nose tight to the corner, but we know that there is more to it than that and we don’t just mean the canes, switches and other needful horrors that our training might entail.
We don’t mean to be impertinent when we say that we know that you went through this too and we desire very much to follow in your footsteps. That is, we both very much wish to be trained as governess in the Sinclair Method and urge you not to spare our behinds or minds in any regard when training us to this end. The end being very much to the fore if you pardon the pun.
Please Miss Bowman, Alice, know that we are ready.
Yours very sincerely and very humbly,
Miss Katherine Anders and Miss Mary Welling
Alice had read and re-read the letter while the two young women sat in patient nervousness on the couch. All the while Katherine adopted a stance of nonchalant poise, her apprehension only hinted at by the constant twittering of her hands, while Mary couldn’t sit still and insisted on chewing her lips.
“Are you sure about this?” Alice said at last.
Katherine pursed her mouth and gave a single nod as she smiled. Followed by Mary, who stole a glance at the older girl and then finding her brave said, “Yes Ma’am.”
“Very well,” Alice said slowly as she drew in a breath. Standing up she frowned and then carefully folded the letter and put it away. “Mary, go to my room and fetch a hairbrush.”
Katherine let the bridge of her nose furrow as a thousand nameless things nibbled at her tummy. She couldn’t think what she had done, but copious reading of Alice’s training manual had suggested that regular maintenance spanking was a desirable practice and she gulped. If that was her governess’s intent then there was nothing either of them could do about it.
For a long second Mary didn’t obey and worked her mouth in confusion. Then with one last glance at Katherine she dipped her head and slowly found her feet.
“Yes Ma’am,” she sighed before marching away.
“Miss Bowman, Ma’am, have I… have we… well I know it is entirely up to you but…?” she shifted in her seat and moistened her lips. Before she could continue Mary returned and the older girl fell silent again.
“Mary,” Alice scolded as she took the brush from Mary’s nervous hands, “You were late getting up this morning and you failed to make your bed.”
Mary blanched and then sucked in her lower lip. “Yes Ma’am,” she agreed.
“From now on neither of you will make the slightest error in any regard,” Alice snapped.
“Yes Ma’am,” they both parroted before Katherine added, “I think we mean, no Ma’am.”
“Then it is understood,” Alice sighed, “Mary come here, I am going to spank you.”
Mary’s jaw dropped and then she closed her mouth and nodded. There was a moment of awkwardness as she moved forward and haplessly half-bent over before Alice slapped her arm and gently held her back.
Mary blushed and still at a standing crouch she reached under her skirt and tugged down her panties. Then as elegantly as she might she eased herself across Alice’s knee as the older woman flipped up the skirts and slip in back.
Katherine help a fidget as she fixed her eyes on Mary’s two pert domes now exposed across Alice’s lap and she felt a hint of giddiness. One day she would have to spank a girl too and just then she hoped it might perhaps be Mary.
“I am going to spank you using what we call the thorough method. Mrs Baxter rarely uses any other way, but I have tended to be more lenient,” Alice explained as she patted Mary’s bare bottom and parted the cheeks slightly. “I will spank you soundly and relentlessly until you are quite, quite miserable and your whole demeanour displays adequate humility. By this time I expect you will be properly crying at the very least. Now where some may call a halt to the spanking at this point I shall not. Taking note of the time it has taken to so reduce you I will spank you for at least as long again. Is that understood?”
“Yes Ma’am,” a rather wooden-voiced Mary answered; her nose just a few inches from the rug.
Katherine thought the explanation somewhat clinical but she got the point and anyway she was here to learn.
Alice was in no hurry and the spanks landed in tight short bursts that didn’t tax the governess’s arm too much. But for seemingly light spanks they got a reaction from Mary all the same and in moments she was yelping and kicking her heels.
“I think we have you somewhere nice and prominent for your corner time, I am not expecting any visitors but principles need to be upheld don’t they? From now on your shame will be as public as possible, you are going to learn,” Alice said sharply as she got into her stride. “That’s another aspect of the thorough method, not only should a spanking be as long thorough and painful as possible, but it should be as public as possible.”
Alice remembered her early treatment at Mrs Baxter’s hand, a grown woman and an ex-WAVE yet, spanked where teenagers and even delivery boys might see her… heat rose and fuelled her steely arm.
Mary squealed and renewed her squirming. But as yet there were no tears or real contrition; after all it wasn’t something one could fake. In the end it took almost 20 minutes to break Mary down and Alice made a note of the time.
“Are you learning your lesson?” she asked the sobbing girl.
“Yes Ma’am, oh yes ma’am,” Mary sobbed between gasps.
Katherine was breathing almost as heavily as Mary and had to cross and re-cross her legs frequently as a distraction. This was better than the movies, she thought to her shame, surely Mary misery shouldn’t be fun.
“Now we can begin,” Alice said sharply as he did her duty.
The spanking turned out to be one of the longest Katherine had so far witnessed. It was quite an education for the both and one neither would ever forget.
To be continued.
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Tags: 1950s, corner time, domestic discipline, governess, hairbrush, OTK, spanking
I want to understand more about the lifestyle we have chosen so I have been looking to wise people who live unorthodox lives that have similarities to ours. This is the first in a series of six posts.
I have looked at those who are self reliant and yet connected to and reliant on others, to people whose life involved a search, whose motives may have been misunderstood and whose choices seem out of step with our modern concepts of success and happiness.
The people that I have been considering are monks and nuns.
I am not going to discuss their faith in God, but rather think about how they devote themselves to a life that involves poverty, obedience, submission, and silence. The more I consider these people the more I felt I could learn from them. I am convinced that many of these men and women have had some of the same struggles I do, such as how to balance self respect with submission, about how to be a better person, how to live out of step with social norms and to live a life of obedience.
I have written six explorations which I will post the next few weeks.
The first of these is …
* I am not glorifying the kind of poverty where people cannot feed themselves or have to turn off the heating in winter. Monastic poverty is a rejection of personal wealth whilst knowing that your basic needs will be taken care of.*
Contrary to what makes sense this is not about being poor, rather it is perception of wealth, worldly perceptions of success and how that connects to your personal perception of contentment.
“I stand before you tonight to represent the people who do not count: the poor, the poets and the monks. As long as there are people who are trying to realise the divine in themselves, there shall be hope in the world.”
We are taught to associate money with contentment and that if we aspire to be succesfull then we must first attain outward manifestations of wealth. No mater how much success we have we are encouraged to aim a little higher each time- keep spending, keep earning, keep spending , like hamsters on a wheel. This makes life an unhappy struggle, not just a money struggle but also a happiness struggle as our aim is always just beyond our reach.
“We are certainly influenced by role models and if we are surrounded by images of beautiful, rich people, we will start to think that to be beautiful and rich is very important.” Alain De Botton (I know he is not a monk but he is a philosopher.)
Could we firstly imagine that attaining what you want and what you need can be done without spending one penny and without altering how your external life? That is a thought contrary to much of modern life and far closer to a monastic ideal of poverty.
“Pick up any newspaper or magazine, open the TV and you’ll be bombarded with suggestions of how to have a successful life. Some of these suggestions are deeply unhelpful to our own projects and priorities and we should take care.” Alain De Botton
What you want in this lifestyle (whether it be a spanking or to be tethered to a St Andrews cross) for is unlikely to be represented in a magazine or a book. Your aims are not worldly, and not of the world of adverts and films. They do not understand you and if you allow them to guide you will be led astray. Look at Fifty Shades, even when the world of business tries to understand it misses the point.
We are raised to believe we need what we are told we need and to challenge this is difficult.
How often have you thought that your life will be easier when you …lose the weight, get prettier clothes, get your dream job, have had the holiday of your dreams, found the beautiful person, become the beautiful person, redecorate, read all those books,
and so on and so on?
And when you have done whatever it is that needs to be done then you will be ready to explore your submission, your dominance, your spanking dreams. But first – all the other things. Spanking and submission will have to wait until next week/month/year/century.
“I will be in a better place to obey him next week when work is not so busy.”
“I will be more consistent next week when I don’t have a cold.”
I imagine that finding time for him to spank me and for me to feel like I need him to spank me will be easier when we have holidays. We would have more holidays if we were millionaires. I would feel more submissive if all my knickers were Agent Provocateur and that way my external life would create my inner life.
This is all codswallop.
I have what I need right now. You have what you need. Do not wait to begin until …(insert your own confusing aim here) … you can start your own life now.
Monastic poverty is meant to free the monastic for conversatio: a life of listening.
Is your life freeing you to focus on what you need rather than what you are told you should want?
Are your basic needs being met allowing you to focus on the life you want?
“A monastic has those things which he/she needs, but not more. Too many possessions clutter the environment and cause distraction. If the monastic’s room or the monastery itself is filled with all sorts of gadgets, the monastic runs the risk of being entertained or busied all day, never having the time to listen. On the other hand, monastic poverty should not be a poverty of destitution which would only result in the monastic being overly concerned with the daily needs of life. Such a poverty would mitigate against listening because the monastic would be too concerned with mere survival to be listening to another.” The Benedictine Rule
Are your possessions (or their acquisition) distracting you from the life you want?
Do you have enough material security to focus on the life you want?
You and I, we are not islands in need of development but we are flooded with material desires, let those ebb away to see what you really want.
The monastic life teaches that a life of poverty is not only realising that your internal wealth is greater in every sense than your external wealth but also realising that you are defined only by your internal wealth.
You won’t be richer once you focus on your internal values but you will stand a chance of finding what you were looking for all along.
- Go on a false aspiration diet. For a week avoid adverts, magazines or films that make you wish you were something other than what you are. Try to notice how often you wish for things that are either the result of bags of money or of photo shop.
- Re-order one room in your house. Without spending one penny make the space work better for you. Sometimes we can’t see what we have for the clutter.
- Go for a walk, appreciate what you see.
- Place an already owned vanilla pervertable in every room. Your house can make a statement for you.
- Watch out for the put off statements, “This will happen more when …”
- Turn off gadgets for a short time each day. Your phone, your computer, your TV, Ipad- they all drown us out and set an agenda for us. Use the time for listening.
Filed under: Indigo Sigh | 10 Comments
Tags: philosophy, spanking, the philosophy of spanking
I have had a lot of recent correspondence on this issue. Why are spanking and corner time so indelibly linked? Girls, ever had corner time?
One contributor here once said she spent all day in the corner for lying. Five hours in total I think. Any advance on that?
What about post versus pre-spanking corner time? Or are you taken out at intervals to be re-spanked?
Filed under: corner time | 12 Comments
Tags: corner time, spanking
Thanks to everyone who has emailed me and made comments. I have had some interesting correspondence, some of it even on topic; more about that another time.
Vanilla Spanking, to which I linked last week, has a F/F take on Taming of the Shrew, with pictures from various productions over the last few decades.
I discovered Vanilla Spanking vie the Spank Statement, which has a short clip showing a recent UK TV production with a father daughter spanking. The actress is 23, in case some where concerned and she seems to be a real brat.
Lots of interesting pictures from around, sources include: Dallas, Able, Starlets, All Things Spanking, CutiePie, Scarlet’s Real Magic and Spanking Blogg. I particularly like the one that gives a whole new meaning to palm spanking.
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Tags: spanking, spanking blogs
Freya Guinness looked at the clock with misery hanging on her face. She already wished her shift was over and the shift had barely begun. It looked like her day at the Horn Street Coffee Shop was getting up to be one of those where she wasn’t be rushed off her feet, but she wasn’t quite going to be left alone.
So far she had just two customers, one of her regulars, Donna Warren, the college professor and a rather sorry looking sorority girl standing at the window counter who had so obviously been recently very soundly spanked.
She couldn’t even relieve the boredom by gloating over the girl’s punitive fate, not under the circumstances. Reaching for a cup on the lower shelf she winced as her bottom flared. At least she didn’t have to sit down any time soon, now that would be embarrassing.
The night before Freya had borrowed her mom’s car on the understanding that she would fill-up with gas and have it back home by 10 o’clock. Well 10 had come and gone before she even noticed the time and she had barely gotten to within 50 minutes of home, in the wrong direction yet after meeting some guy, when she realised it was nearly midnight.
To make matters infinitely worse before she had a chance to call, the darn car had stuttered to a stop after finally refusing to run on fumes.
When her Dad had rolled up just after one o’clock, the fact that he was pissed at her was written like bloody doom on his face.
“Hey Dad,” Freya had offered nervously as she gave him a forlorn wave.
“You know it will be two and gone by the time we get to bed,” he sighed as he reached for the gas can in the trunk. “I have work tomorrow, what are you doing out here?”
Freya’s younger sister Dakota would have told an elaborate lie at this point and wouldn’t have quit until she had thoroughly dug a grave for her tender behind. At 18, Freya would have done much the same, but these days she knew better than to keep digging and a girl’s posterioral health was better served by the truth.
“Some guy,” Freya said sourly, “You know how it is? I kind of forgot the time.”
“It is not all you forgot is it?” John Guinness said, making a finger push as he nodded to her dash.
“Oh yah,” Freya replied reaching down and hitting the gas release button. “I’m sorry, I forgot the gas too.”
John glared at her and then pointed looked at his watch. “I guess that isn’t going to be an issue for the next couple of weeks,” he said.
“I’m grounded aren’t I?” Freya said through wince-dancing lips.
John nodded and shrugged. “Two weeks,” he sighed, and then he reached down and began unscrewing the gas cap.
“You gonna spank me?” she asked uncomfortably as she took up a nervous stance and unconsciously handled the seat of her pants.
“Oh yeah,” her father said as if she had asked something dumb.
“I guess I got it coming,” Freya agreed ruefully as hot blood drowned her pale face.
The spanking had been deferred to the morning and Freya had had to get up before six to stand in just her T-shirt facing the wall in the kitchen so as to be waiting for John to get up.
It was an old sanction and designed to put her on tenterhooks for half an hour as she waited. Oftentimes her father would then defer the spanking until the evening and prolong the agony, which would have been a fair choice seeing as she had caused him to get to bed so late.
“What time do you have to be at work today?” her father asked as he strolled into the kitchen to snort at her exposed and waiting bottom.
Freya coloured, it was only her Dad, but she couldn’t help it. “Not until 10.30,” she admitted.
John Guinness nodded and pulled a chair out from the table with a scrape. There was a clatter too of the short hardwood paddle landing on the countertop.
“I got 10 or 15 minutes to spare so we might as well get this over with,” her father said in his weary voice. “Then you can go back to where you are until everyone leaves the house, or 10 o’clock, whichever comes around sooner.”
“But it’s…” Freya baulked and shot her gaze at the clock. It was a little after 7.30 and she had already suffered nearly an hour of bare-bottomed corner time.
“It is what? You were quick enough to waste my time last night and your mom is still pissed at you for leaving her without a car. No I think and intimate consideration of the passing of minutes will be fitting don’t you?” John scolded her.
“Yes Dad,” Freya nodded and sucked in some bitter air. She couldn’t really deny that it was fair.
Freya was shaken from her tender memory by a customer.
“You got any pie?” the old woman croaked as if a negative answer might be the gravest of insults.
“Yes Ma’am,” Freya replied pleasantly before rattling off a list of options.
Charlie Lain had opted for standing at the window counter of the Horn Street Coffee Shop. Despite the embarrassment, sitting down on one of the high stools was completely out of the question, but at least the shop was almost deserted.
Until the old woman had come in, the only other person apart from the girl serving was a dark-haired woman Charlie had seen around campus, although the woman seemed too self-absorbed to take any notice of the sorority girl’s discomfort. Nevertheless, the waitress had given Charlie a smile that hung somewhere between sympathy and a knowing smirk.
The previous evening had been housekeeping when all the pledges had to account for any reported or presumed infractions of the sorority’s many, many rules.
Davina Davies was an expert in sniffing out the latter and a small failure to fess up to some minor out of bounds infractions had led to some major paddle action all over Charlie’s bare behind.
“I want you kneeling on that bed,” Davina had drawled, “And get that butt right up… no I said right up… what the f… get those PJs down first, what do you think this is, a slumber party?”
“But the door is open,” Charlie had wailed.
“Well it is all girls together; don’t you want to help educate your fellow students?” Davina had teased.
“But…” Charlie squeaked.
“Get it up and paddle ripe and I want to see those elbows square to the mattress and resting on your knees,” Davina snarled.
The posture had been humiliating and not to say uncomfortable, but Charlie couldn’t deny that her bottom was more than adequately presented for the paddle. She would remember that one day, when her own turn came.
“Sorority tradition calls for three swats for each infraction, but I am going to assume you ducked out on at least as much as you got caught for, so how many is that?” Davina asked innocently.
Charlie smelt a trap, but all she could do was spring it. A clever self-effacing answer would get her extra for a smart mouth, minimising her fault would get her extra too. She was up for… four infractions so if Davina was assuming double, which was a total crock… then she faced two dozen. Charlie winced.
“Twenty four, Ma’am,” Charlie offered hesitantly.
Davina licked her lips like a cat with a veritable bucket of cream.
“I’ll take that as a confession, but you are forgetting the extra swats for not fessing up,” she drawled.
“But…” Charlie gasped.
“And three swats for not owning up to it now,” Davina added.
“But you said… I didn’t, really I didn’t,” Charlie wailed.
“So were you lying when you confessed or are you lying now?” Davina asked casually.
Lying was a big no-no and Charlie suddenly felt trapped.
“Dumb insolence is it,” Davina said sharply. “You can take 30 now and we will add the rest on next week, aren’t I kind? How many hold overs is that?”
“Six,” Charlie said meekly.
“No, it is double for lying so it would have been nine, but now that is 12 with an extra three for the favour of delaying your correction,” Davina said gleefully.
“But… oooh,” Charlie groaned.
“What do you say?” Davina asked coaxingly.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Charlie said with a pout.
“And yes you can, right after you count them off,” Davina said as she patted the bottom hard enough with the paddle to make it sting. “Ready?”
“Yes Ma’am,” Charlie sighed.
The paddle thwack was a terror and Charlie yelped. She didn’t need to turn her head to know a wide-eyed freshman gaping at her from the open door.
“One thank you Ma’am,” Charlie said miserably.
By the fifth acknowledgement there was a small gathering of grinning and horrified innocents gawping at her misery.
“Five,” Charlie shrieked, and then sniffing back tears added, “thank you, Ma’am,” as she descended into sobs. Nor had the next 25 swats so lovingly and slowly applied been any easier to bear.
Now the tight lobes of her bottom ached under a sheen of persistent soreness, it was way too tender at the point where her skin touched her cotton panties. But at least she had managed to put some on, that had been completely out the day before.
The worst part was that she already faced another 15 in less than a week on top of any other sanction she had yet to earn; and earn them she would, she thought ruefully.
Donna’s Warren’s bottom settled uneasily on the hard plastic coffee shop chair, it especially chaffed at the tight tender bud between her two tender curves. But at least she could now just about sit down. That was more than could be said for the thoroughly morose sorority girl standing at the window shelf that Donna pretended not to notice. Oh to have been a fly on the wall when she tasted the paddle, Donna thought, but her enthusiasm was curbed somewhat by her own troubles.
Her latest run-in with Mrs Main was hardly the worst she had had but it was certainly… instructive. Donna pouted and took another sip of her coffee. The recent memory was crowded out by another from just a few weeks before.
“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” Mrs Main had then asked. At the time it was a subject which Donna was wholly ignorant.
Donna had gaped at the question and she had quailed to the tips of her toes. If she were honest she had known that this day might come and she had been a little curious, but contemplating the reality had been too… too much to comprehend and all the scenarios in her head had been played out with other girls during her intimate moments alone.
The question on that day had come after a particularly prolonged spanking while across Mrs Main’s knee. As usual despite all attempts to tough it out and preserve some pride and dignity she had nevertheless bawled like a teen.
In her fevered youth she had seen some spiked running shoes and concocted elaborate and unlikely fantasies about getting a spanking with such a thing. Her teen years had been driven by such dark punishments, and it was a secret desire she had never entirely shaken off. But the spanking that day from such a simple thing as Mrs Main’s hairbrush had rivalled all her worst expectations.
First, as always, came the tummy churning inevitability of the spanking. Second was the feeling of utter helplessness, there was a kind of liberty in being humbled like that she could never explain. The third emotion was entirely different and was the perfect moment of humility, freedom from choice combined with utter helplessness, that short time when she was scolded just before the first spank forming an emotional state all on its own. Then the spanking rendered all introspection as nothing, as her world became bottom, hairbrush and Mrs Main.
Donna remembered, and at the same time couldn’t remember the relentless sting that built up and up until it was all she could comprehend. The pain described every curve of her flesh and until she thought that it would never ever end; and then it did. Or at least the physical assault did. The burn throbbed on as Mrs Main renewed the verbal emotional tirade. The one where words were unimportant and just the tone offered some balm.
But all this was underpinned by dread. Donna knew the spanking was not over and that the housemother was only waiting for the sting to become bearable again so that she could build upon it again.
“Please, I’ll be good, I’m sorry,” Donna might have babbled, she couldn’t recall, such shame now blotted form her mind. Then she did remember and her face melted.
“What if your students could see this?” Mrs Main had said sharply, “You wouldn’t be so high and mighty then, would you? You think it couldn’t happen? You are not the first 20-something or even 30-something I have put in her place.”
In that moment Donna had never felt so humbled, but worse was yet to come.
“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” moments before Donna had fled from the memory of what had happened next and had taken refuge in her spanking. Now she hid her face as she furtively looked around, certain now that everyone in the coffee shop knew she was still punished so dreadfully.
Mrs Main had stripped Donna naked and put her on her knees in the bath. Her bottom had still burned and while the housemother had fussed with something the teacher didn’t dare contemplate, Donna had cupped her bottom cheeks and marvelled at the hot leathery texture she heft in both hands.
“Bend over it then and reach back under the tray,” the housemother had ordered.
Donna had frowned for a second, not daring to let her mind dwell on what was happening. In front of her across the bath was a removable stainless steel cage serving as a tray to hold any required soaps or rubber ducks; her parents had one, she remembered. Only this one was sturdier and had plasticised padding on the middle portion which might have been a seat for the convenience of leg shaving or…
“Yes that, bend over it and get your bottom right up,” Mrs Main scolded.
Donna blinked and then dumbly looked at the housemother. On the bathroom counter behind her was a small bucket, a hot water bottle thing, some rubber tubing and a funnel.
“Tell me Dr Warren, have you ever had a punishment enema?” Mrs Main had previously asked her, the words still reverberating as they always would.
Donna was halfway to obeying when she finally grasped her fate and she gasped.
“I hope you feel thoroughly ashamed of yourself,” Mrs Main sighed.
“But I haven’t done anything,” Donna wailed.
“Haven’t… don’t you realise that since we have been having these Saturday session you haven’t been out late once and have been quite the model tenant here,” the housemother said as she shook her head.
Donna started and hastily tried to recall… all those mishaps that she swore were not her fault, or all that confrontation when all she had to do was been in on time… Donna blushed as comprehension, which had been a long time coming finally landed.
Sitting in the coffee shop Donna blanched white for a second and then hot blood surge through her in a flush to end all blushes.
Freya did a double take as she looked at the older woman and nearly asked if something was wrong. What’s eating her? The waitress openly stared.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that the woman was on faculty Freya could have sworn she was looking at a post-paddled sorority girl. For one thing, she knew the look; Freya even saw it in the mirror sometimes.
No, there was no doubt about it, Dr Donna Warren, a woman nearer 30 than college-age had definitely got her tail paddled, and recently. Freya smirked. She now felt a whole lot better about her run in with her Dad.
I think I know I always have it coming, she ruefully decided, but now I know I am not alone now I can hardly claim to be too old for a spanking.
Donna swallowed hard as she recalled that recent and mortifying Saturday, now she understood something. She caught the waitress staring and hastily fussed with the spoon in her cup and ducked her head.
That day she had been naked in the bath and bottom very definitely and embarrassingly up. When Mrs Main had thumbed a healthy scoop of Vaseline onto her tiny nether bud she had gasped; if it had been possibly to literally die of shame, then she would have done so, but there had been no such luck.
The housemother had been generous in her application of the petroleum gunk, even letting her thumb ease inside a little. Then she had felt something sterner and altogether larger.
“Oh Jesus,” Donna had squealed, “What the… what are you doing?”
“The thermometer will make sure you aren’t sick,” Mrs Main told her seriously, “But since it was designed for horses it will push the lubricant deeper in for you.”
“Noooo don’t,” Donna wailed as her jaw dropped in disbelief.
“Think yourself lucky young lady, in my day the only easing came via carbolic and that can really make your eyes water, as one day I will show you. But I know this is a first for you so…” Mrs Main sounded almost maternal.
“B-but,” Donna didn’t really know what to say.
“When I was in your position, my housemother usually had three or four of us in a row for this. The bathrooms weren’t so private either and a senior girl was often drafted to supervise while we waited for… well, whatever came next,” Mrs Main chuckled, “You really have no idea how Spartan college life was in Abraham Heights some 20-odd years ago.”
“B-b-but, but, but,” Donna muttered, suddenly overwhelmed by the strange sensations.
“A little deeper I think,” the house mother said cheerfully.
Donna lunged forward as she groaned.
“Listen… I don’t… I can’t… you can’t do this,” Donna spluttered, sure now that she would die.
“What was that?” Mrs Main asked sharply.
“I mean… I know I said…” Donna forced the words out through a clamped jaw.
“Do we have to go back to the days when you had to go across my knee for every little rebellion?” the housemother scolded.
N-no, I just…”
“I am so glad to hear it,” Mrs Main sighed and then to Donna’s relief tugged the large glass tube free of the young woman’s bottom hole.
Donna collapsed onto her elbows and sagged into panting confusion. At least it was over, never had she felt so… exposed? Her train of thought was interrupted by a startle as something bigger pressed her intimate bud.
“This is one of my smaller funnels,” the housemother said soothingly, “Think yourself lucky I am not using a plunger.”
The tightness gave way to painful stretching and Donna belt her eyes bug in her head.
“The nozzle is only about five inches on this one and there is a narrowing to help hold it near the flared part,” Mrs Main explained as she let the funnel settle in a position so that it protruded from Donna’s bottom.
“It won’t… it won’t… it’s slipping,” Donna wailed.
“Just a moment,” came the reply. Then a splash of water turned to a flood.
The sensation was intense, the molten assault was almost too hot and touched her deeper than anything ever, ever had. It was even more intimate than sex and in another arena… but then Donna felt the pressure.
“Th-that’s enough,” Donna gasped.
“Nonsense, this is only the start, just a quick primer if you like,” Mrs Main talked slow like she was concentrating.
“N-no, no really… this is… ahhh, please I… I can’t…” Donna’s groan might have been heard up the hall and she had to clench her mouth tight.
“Now hold that,” Mrs Main said at last as she reached for a watch.
Three times Mrs Main let Donna empty herself before a longer fuller refill and three times Donna cried like a little girl and promised to be good.
For the second enema the housemother employed a bigger funnel, which was way big enough. She had to hold it longer too. But nothing prepared her for the third intrusion.
The hose was almost as big as a gardener’s and filled Donna like a snake. The other end was attached to a rubber bag which Mrs Main hung from the shower rail.
“This one has something interesting in among the soap and water you will find…” the housemother began.
“Oh… ah, nnngh, oh my God,” Donna groaned.
“Oh I see you have found that out,” the older woman chuckled, “Now I am going to leave you with that one for a while.”
The next long while had been torment enough, but then Mrs Main had introduced her to an old sorority trick.
“I think that’s enough of that for now, I bet you have never been so thoroughly cleansed,” the housemother chuckled.
“No Ma’am,” Donna said as she collapsed with relief.
All the same she was still bottom up in a very humiliating position.
“Now in my sorority days pledges had to go smooth, you know down there and just to makes sure us precious little brats, and we were, got the message there was a way of making sure you knew the rules,” Mrs Main began.
Donna sagged, apprehensive now about what was coming.
“In my day we used a candle, for… all kinds of things, but young women are so liberated today. I confiscated this off of one of my girls,” the older woman said disapprovingly. “It’s not too big, it should fit.”
Donna looked back in horror, “fit?” what was she doing? Then she saw the pink vibrator in the housemother’s hand.
“Don’t worry, no batteries, and strangely the girl who had this swore she didn’t need it anymore, well once I paddled her three ways from Sunday,” Mrs Main gave Donna an evil grin. Then pressing the pink plastic to Donna’s bottom she pressed it gently home. “I already soaped it, it should… there,” she added.
“Oh God,” Donna gasped. She was just wondering what the tweezers were for when Mrs Main explained.
“Now I am going to…” the housemother’s words were interrupted by a wholesome scream from Donna, “…Pluck these hairs for you. One by one until I get bored, just as we did in the old days. You’ll never forget this and I intend that you shouldn’t”
“Oh come on… ouch,” Donna gasped, but she was still more worried about the tight fit in her bottom, for some reason she hated that it slipped a little like she might expel it. Surely that was a good thing? But it was unsettling all the same. The she shrieked again.
“Until you get bored?” Donna asked anxiously.
“Yes, sorry about that, but this would take for ever and I only need 15 or 20 minutes to make a point. Memorable no, especially when I take them from… here?”
The sharp tug was right at the bud and Donna squealed before groaning for several moments.
“You get it, don’t you? I mean, you will never forget this day and that is the whole point,” Mrs Main said kindly.
“But… but…” Donna sniffed, struggling now not to cry.
“Now, now, I’ll shave you close when I am done, that way the memory will last,” Mrs Main smiled. “Save your tears for another spanking afterwards, I may even cane you.”
“I know, you can thank me another time,” the housemother said with a wink.
Donna shifted on her seat, still conscious of the fresh bristle grown down below where it hadn’t quite grown back. Freya was no longer looking at her and the sorority girl didn’t seem to notice anything, but she blushed all the same, certain that everyone knew.
“The lady doth protest too much,” she muttered.
“What was that ma’am,” Freya asked brightly.
Donna shook her head and dismissed the enquiry with a smile. Mrs Main was an old hand at this game and she must have seen Donna for what she was from the very start. Okay, I get it now, Donna thought. But the truth was she knew now that she always had, why else had she put up with the housemother’s crazy regime? No not crazy, if it didn’t exist then Donna would have seen it invented, only… only what?
She shifted on the seat again and knew Mrs Main was right, her memories where indelibly fixed now and she had learned. Not that the housemother wouldn’t continue to teach, Donna’s fate was sealed in that regard. No she would have to make other arrangements now that she now knew what they needed to be and she already had a plan.
Filed under: Abraham Heights, DJB stories, sorority, spanking stories | 9 Comments
Tags: enema, paddle, spanking