Over the Moon


moons“Are you going to beat me?” she said apprehensively and biting on her lower lip.

Carly looked almost childlike when she adopted such a pose, her cascade of red-brown hair falling in ringlets over her greenish doe-eyes amid a heart shaped face. It was set well on a fully fleshed body that was buxom enough to her waist before flaring into full generous hips.

“I wish you wouldn’t use that word,” he said gruffly, trying hard not to smile.

David folded his arms to regard his little hoyden of a wife standing head shoulders bellow his gaze. His loose white cotton shirt was still bedraggled from the beach, hastily pilled on over knee-length black shorts giving him an almost 18th century gentleman at leisure look, an image complimented by the lion-like mane of tousled dark hair. He had hastily dressed after looking up and seeing Carly halfway up the cliff face and had run all the way, so had ended a hitherto pleasant day at the beach.

“Well,” she pouted, rocking gently at the hips and adding to the little girl lost look, “spanking,” she said it tentatively as if the very word could bite her, “is so childish,” she continued, adding, “Besides, I would hardly call it a s-spanking when you use that big stick of yours.”

“It’s not so big, and sometimes it takes a switch or a cane to get through to you and make it stick,” he ignored the accidental pun.

But she giggled and made to poke her tongue out at him.

“Well, are you going to beat me?” she asked again.

He looked uncomfortable and scanned the cobbled road running above the beach. Porthcoe was too small a place for indiscretion and he they had been coming here for years.

“What were you doing on the cliff?” he hissed.

She shrugged and made another pout. This time she looked at her feet and said, “Looking for eggs, we always did it as kids.”

“Eggs,” he said sharply and too loudly. “Gull eggs?”

An old man leaning on the wall by the slipway unsucked his pipe and glanced their way.

“I wasn’t going to take any,” Carly said defensively.

“That is the kind of… that behaviour is why your father made me promise to give you a spanking whenever you needed it,” he said, now exasperated.

She blushed and wondered if the old man had heard. Somehow telling people proudly that her husband beat her was way cooler than admitting that she was spanked. It didn’t occur to her how that might sound.

“So you are going to beat me?” she said ruefully with yet another pout.

David looked sharply at the old man who was definitely listening by now and glowered.

“No, I am going to take you home and give you damn good spanking and on your bare bottom,” he added as if he ever did it any other way. “And if you give me any nonsense I’ll do it right here.”

“You wouldn’t,” Carly gasped in genuine dismay.

The old man chuckled suddenly and replaced the pipe in his mouth to hide his amusement. The water in the bay now seemed to absorb all his interest.

David seized Carly gently by the arm and began walking back to their cottage up on the headland. This time her furious blushing was her only resistance. In a few short minutes they had ascended the path and the village looked like a handful of small white models dotted along a Hornby beach and they stood in the small garden of their white stone cottage.

He had spanked her out here before now and soundly. Such times had been meant to embarrass her, although they had been safely carried out away from the eyes of their Porthcoe neighbours. But the occasional hiker on the cliff path may have had the odd eyeful, especially when Carly had stood corner time in the yard and not the house.

David regarded her sternly and made no attempt to open the black painted cottage door.

“I’m sorry, I know I deserve it, but not here again, please,” she whispered urgently.

David eyed the rugged track that lead past their cottage and then the coast path on the clifftops nearby. This was obscured by gorse, but they were not entirely invisible if anyone lingered there. He growled and pulled her inside.

Once through the door Carly tumbled haplessly and unresisting across his lap as he sat down, certain now that her modesty and dignity were largely safe.  But it was still embarrassing to have her loose cotton skirt rucked over her back and her pale cotton briefs slid slickly down her thighs.

Her bare bottom was full and vulnerable in his lap now, a tight spilt of curves and full creamy firm softness. This exposure left Carly’s face hot and in direct contrast to the mild chill caressing her behind. She feared the slipper now or the hairbrush; he never used a stick in this posture.

An age went by as she squirmed to the sound of their combined breathing.

“What you did was reckless, dangerous and showed a complete disregard for the wildlife,” he scolded her angrily.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice tinged with expectant sadness.

The weight of his strong thighs pressed into hers like an accusation and she felt small like a kitten curled in a basket. Then his hand smacked down hard and stung her to the core. There were three or four more of these before she could even blink and by then a fire defined the space between flesh meeting flesh.

Carly bit down hard and clutched at the air as she began to ride it, but a minute later even breathing was an effort and she made groaning noises at each impact.

“I ought to take picture after and make you send it with a letter to your father,” he growled as he spanked.

This strange threat was a reference to his discovery years before that Carly sent little cards to her sister reporting each every spanking. He had been furious and had punished her soundly for the indiscretion. But Carly had thrilled at the admission of what she always insisted was beastly unwelcome treatment. Not that her sister was ever fooled.

The words were a catalyst now and she relaxed into some measure of penitent tears. The spanking really stung her now and was to do so for several long minutes. Once she was sure there was nothing she could do or say to bring her punishment to an end she allowed herself to beg.

“David… ahh, David,” she gasped, sounding ever more shrill. “Please…”

His hand and most of his lower arm ached; even his palm was a little sore. Not that it was as sore as Carly’s bottom. That was raw and pricked all over with reaction goosebumps, a sure sign of throbbing tightness.

“You know where the corner is,” he said at last.

“I need… I need to…” she said breathlessly, now dizzy with it all, but even as she made feeble protests she obeyed.

He hated that his prick throbbed, but it was a promise between them that duty always came before pleasure. Or to put it another way, he thought with a bitter smirk, corner time at his pleasure before either of them came.

Carly wondered if anyone from the coast path could see in their windows. If they could then they would see a penitent woman standing bare-bottomed in the corner having a little cry. The idea thrilled her and she indulged a fantasy that everyone on the village would know she had been soundly spanked like a naughty girl. Well spanked and not beaten, she decided, he really should have spanked her on the slipway by the beach just to teach her the difference. She blushed some more.

Sometime later he released her and then poured himself a drink. When he turned around she was there with a stick. It was the thin one, as slim as her little finger and near three feet long. She hated it and always sincerely begged when he produced it.

“Two sins requires…” she licked her lips and swallowed hard before whispering, “Please Sir, you know I deserve it.”

He nodded and then took the nasty wand from her proffered fingers. Then he looked over at the padded settee under the window. Carly glanced out at the evening gloom and scoured the bushes for hidden eyes, but so what… she sighed and without further orders bent over the heavy scroll arm of the furniture. This served to present her well-reddened bottom to further correction and she squirmed with the thought of it.

David eyed her bottom with something like hunger and then glanced out at the rising moon over the sea. Low to the horizon it was large and red, much like Carly’s offered rounds and he flexed the rod. Then with a moment’s consideration he closed the curtains.

“I’m sorry David,” Carly sighed.

“I know,” he replied and drew a line of fire across her bare bottom.

She screamed in release and then again until it sounded as if a she-wolf was baying at the moon.

Weekly Round-Up


1wr able 1wr Are-You-There-OGLA-BACLANOVA-Spanked 1wr bb11-576x1024 1wr polite-contrite 1wr sb 1wr srm 1wr you_ve_been_a_bad_girl_alice__by_anahimagineFirst of all, thanks to all those people who have been sending in pictures and little snippets. I cannot use them all for one reason or another, but I will use some of them in the next few weeks. I especially like the corner time pictures from naughty young ladies repentant enough to share their shame. Actually that isn’t how most of them put it.

Just a note to contributors, some the resolution on pictures is so small that blown up to a reasonable size they are rendered too grainy. One of the problems of camera phones I think. But thanks, even if I cannot use them they are of interest to me.

Also please remember that anecdotes about how you were spanked at 17 or younger, whilst being fascinating insights into one’s journey into this life, cannot be published on this blog, but thanks again for your openness and willingness to share.  I say this because in most cases these readers stipulate that the copy and images sent are for publication.

Also my apologies for not getting back to some of you (especially other bloggers to whom I have promised to do something).

Since last Monday this blog has drifted past the 12 million visitor mark, so thank you all. I gather from the poll that most of you like the stories best and that so far, frequent visits are the norm. But I won’t close the poll officially for another two weeks.

Also thanks to Indigo who has pointed me in the direction of a couple of items.

Now looking around Spankville I see things are warming up for the New Year. I was particularly tickled by Kia of Acknowledging Imperfection‘s struggles with her phone’s auto-correct where Mentor becomes tormentor.

Pictures this week are from: Able, All Things Spanking, Spanking Blog, Scarlet’s Real Magic, Richard Windsor, Cutiepie and Au Fils Des Jours.

Vintage Sunday


vintage spanking vintage spanking vintage spanking

ct amateur real time otk amateur

Fun or real discipline in action (it comes to the same for some). Sent in by Ralph, our thanks to him.

needThe Audi hit yet another line of cars and Kimberly slowed to a stop. Usually such delays pissed her off but today the conversation was far too interesting and the 36-year-old blonde cast a smirk at her passenger sitting alongside.

Clarice tugged furiously at a stray red hair and glowered at the new hold-up. She and Kimberly had been at school together and told each other almost everything and that was the trouble. Now she wished she hadn’t.

“Oh Jesus, not again,” she groaned at the cars ahead.

“Don’t change the subject,” Kimberly smirked.

“Look, forget I said anything, it’s not a big deal,” Clarice said sullenly and pouted.

“I think we both know it is,” Kimberly giggled, “How long have you wanted a spanking anyway?”

“I don’t want a spanking, it’s not like that,” Clarice said irritably, “You make me sound as if I’m some wide-eyed kid and haven’t… you know. It’s just that’s it’s been a while and… well you know.”

Actually Kimberly did and a smile tickled her lips as she returned some brief attention to the traffic.

“What do you mean, don’t want a spanking? I thought you did?” Kimberly said innocently.

Clarice sighed and pulled a strand of red down to her nose as she had as a child. A then let out a long slow breath.

“Before, you know, when you know you are going to get a spanking or whatever… then you’re scared and excited all at the same time. It’s good to fight it, especially when you know it won’t save you,” she said with a studied purse of her lips. “Afterwards it feels… oh I don’t know, like a cleansing or a release. The sting makes you feel alive and… well kind of sexy, you know. Its liberating, you can do anything, anything you’re told, sexually I mean and its completely free from guilt.”

“So you do like getting spanked?” Kimberly replied distractedly as she shifted to first as the cars in front began to move.

“No,” Clarice said emphatically, “No at the time I would do anything to make it stop, you know, it hurts.”

Kimberly thought about her own experience, among some of the things she hadn’t always told Clarice and smiled knowingly.

At 24 while with a group at dinner she had met a friend of a friend, a man more than 20 years older than her. He had been ruggedly handsome with thick dark hair with white at his temples. She remembered he smelled lightly of musk. His firm friendly manner had charmed her and she had spent most of the night being variously cheeky and girlish with a vague idea about provoking him.

“Are you going my way?” she had asked him at the end of the evening.

“What after the way you have been behaving all night?” he had teased.

“Maybe you could do something about that,” she had teased back.

One thing had led to another and back at her flat she had found herself with a bare bottom in his lap and getting a respectable spanking. She had delighted in the vocal protest and not a little begging, but as the spanking was rather moderate by her standards gratifyingly with no let up. Finally she had said she would do anything.

Anything had included the predictable fellatio and then something else. That night she had lost her last virginity after he had taken her to the bathroom and in the midst of a sexy shower had skewered her bottom hole after lubricating her with baby shampoo.

“We could try that again if you want,” she had later invited him huskily.

“What the spanking or the buggery?” he had challenged her.

“Both if you like,” she had giggled.

The second spanking had been rather more challenging than the first but the rewards had been sharply pleasant. Then for some reason she had bit him. Fearing she had gone too far, she quickly fetched a bath brush and told him he could make her cry if he wanted. He had.

The spanking had been the fiercest she had ever had and she had genuinely bawled for mercy long before he had let up.

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” he had demanded.

“Yes Sir,” she had sobbed.

Oh she knew what Clarice meant. It had been hell on her backside and she had suffered for over week afterwards, but clinging to a man in the immediate aftermath was a fiery cleansing joy.

She had sucked him then, this time with genuine enthusiasm while the last of her tears had dripped down her chin and off his balls. The relocation of his cock to her arse before he had come had been a surprise and had driven her wild. She hadn’t even minded when he again switched targets.

“You really are a wild one aren’t you, he had said in the small hours when they were spent?” He had been grinning.

“Care for round four?” she had smiled back handing him the brush. More than just bravado when your bottom hadn’t decided between burgundy or purple for a permanent hue.

“I could spank you sure, but maybe not much else,” he had gasped in amazement.

She had enjoyed the power of it.

“Spank me then, properly this time, and then I’ll leave it to you what you can manage. I dare you,” she had urged him.

She had been terrified and fit to burst with the thought of it, but he had obliged. But she had had too much adrenaline to surrender to tears that time. Nevertheless the final fuck had been epic.

“What are you smiling about?” Clarice asked suddenly cutting into Kimberly’s thoughts.

“I’ll tell you what, I know some people,” Kimberly said enigmatically, “Let me arrange a little bit of fun.”


Clarice was nervous. She hadn’t been keen on Kimberly’s idea in the first place; she was more of a relationship girl. Give her a man with a firm hand and healthy dose of feigned reluctance and she was in her element. But Kimberly liked parties and role play and… she sighed, well they were here now and she supposed it might be fun.

The building looked like a garage or warehouse, with high pebble-dashed walls and no apparent windows. There was a new Aston Martin in the lane and small red two-seater sports car to die for. The latter belonged to a cool looking woman in her 30s with Ray Bans in her hair and a sour look of aloof disdain on her face. Clarice would have loved to dismiss her as a tart, but the woman was expensively dressed and had spray-on denims to reveal legs to die for and Clarice knew it was just envy.

“Get her,” she whispered, irritated that the woman hadn’t even glance at them.

“Come on,” Kimberly said gently.

“What are they, you know, going to do?” Clarice asked in a voice of excited terror.

“Someone is going to spank your bottom,” Kimberly replied in an amused voice.

“I don’t mean that, I mean… you know, how does it all work?” Clarice was blushing.

But Kimberly only winked and smiled enigmatically.

They followed the woman from the red car into an industrial reception, but she had already disappeared. Instead they were faced with a smiley frumpy woman in her 50s who greeted them with an encouragement.

“Just tell me your numbers girls,” she said, her voice was husky and she spoke with a South London accent.

Kimberly put two pink slips of paper on the counter and smiled back warmly. Clarice knew the look that tightened at her friend’s eyes, she was nervous too.

“Clary and Kim, how nice,” the woman smiled again, “Just sign here and… take this. Then just go through to the room number on the card.”

Clarice shot a bitter glance at Kimberly, annoyed at the lame alias she had given. Very subtle, her eye roll said sarcastically. But she took the stiff lemon coloured card and examined it. It had her name and the number on one side and the words Atomic Brickbat on the other.

“What’s this mean?” she asked.

“It’s your safe word,” the woman said pointing otherwise silently down the passage to some anonymous doors.

“Mine’s the same, it’s to keep it simple,” Kimberly reassured her.

“Oh God,” Clarice groaned, “I don’t know that I’m…”

“What’s the safe word?” Kimberly said sharply.

“Atomic brickbat,” Clarice shot back without looking at the card.

“Remember that and have fun,” Kimberly said shoving Clarice ahead of her.


Clarice was alone and naked but for a hospital gown-like affair. The room was cold and the leather padded bench even colder. The man and the woman had been brusque to the point of rudeness and made strip without the least ceremony. The menace was exciting, she thought.

She had been told the prison rules were strict, but not what they were. It was the first she knew of the scenario, but it had been one of those discussed with Kimberly. Christ this is really going to happen.

Beyond the one door was the sound of anguish and other shouts completely compatible with the prison story and she shuddered. Too real, she thought. But she didn’t have long to dwell on it.

The door opened and the man returned and barked angrily that she should stand up.

“I hate trouble makers,” he snarled, “And didn’t I tell you to stand-up, so stand-up straight,” he yelled, even though Clarice was already standing.

He was tall and handsome, but with a theatrical sinister aspect. He wore thick black non-descript trousers and sweat top, with leather boots and a thick leather belt.

“Yes Sir,” she squeaked, genuinely too scared to say anything else.

Later she would learn that Kimberly usually gave the gaoler some attitude or even openly rebelled, but Clarice was too caught up in the moment.

“Yes Sir,” he mimicked in a stern voice, “I’ll give you yes Sir, get in here.”

Here, was a larger warmer room with another padded bench at one end, some kind of frame in the middle, and a huge rack of paddles, canes, whips and assorted birch rods.

“Look, there’s… you know, there’s been a mistake,” she gabbled, her eyes hanging wide as she backed away from him.

“Yes and you made it,” he snapped.

But he waited then, watching and listening as if considering something. Clarice was terrified.

“Right then, come here,” he said at last and hauled her over to the bench.

She wasn’t surprised when he sat down and tossed her across his lap. Nor that he completely bared her bottom.

The spanking started out soft and rapidly built up to a generous onslaught that left her panting and somewhat damp. A situation he noticed, if only by the faint smell, for he pinched her and said in chuckling voice, “You’re enjoying this, tsk tsk, I brought you here for punishment,” as he let her get up.

Clarice blushed and clamped her hands over her thinly veiled front. Then she watched in some anguish as he went to the rack to take up a short leather paddle.

“What are you going to do?” she said nervously.

The next spanking was tougher and she struggled. So much so that at one point he gruffly asked, “You remember the two words?”

“No, what…?” she panted, and then remembered the card. Not that she believed it would make a difference, he was definitely in control. “Oh yes,” she blurted, although for a second she couldn’t recall what they were.

The spanking continued with bite until little by little small tears pooled in her eyes and she made mewling sounds. However, she didn’t actually cry for real until he had finished, but by then she hoarse with yelling and gasping for breath. Her bottom was none too good either. It throbbed and burned so that she could scarce tell that the spanking had finished.

Atomic brickbat, she remembered at last, not that she had put much effort in to recall it earlier. Well it was too late now, she thought as he led her to the corner.

“You can stay there,” he ordered, “Don’t cover your bottom and face the other way, do you hear me?”

Her bottom burned with contact with the air and she was shaking with a surge of conflicted emotions. Never had it been this intense.

“Have you ever felt the strap or the cane?” he asked darkly.

“The strap Sir,” she told him. It was true; she had once been punished with a belt.

“You have another hour before the shift change,” he said with a hard authority. “You can stay there until then or we can make a start to get it over with.”

“Start what Sir,” she let panic touch her voice. What was happening now?

“Your punishment,” he said.

Her heart flipped. She had already been spanked, but… she felt faint.

“Can’t we, you know, get it over with?” she found herself saying, while in her head she repeated atomic brickbat, atomic brickbat…

The belts that secured her to the frame in the middle of the room weren’t that tight and if she had been left to her own devices she might have easily escaped. But he didn’t leave her nor give her time to test her bonds. Instead once she was bare bottom upwards on the frame he took up a thick leather strap with a split down the middle.

“I am going to give you eight,” he told her, “And then another eight. We’ll find out what you are made of.”


As she made her way back to the reception Clarice wondered if she was ever going to sit down again. Every step was a torment and fiery bees assailed both bottom cheeks all the way down to mid-thigh every time she took a step. Nothing had prepared her for such a harsh and genuine experience and yet she was amazed that she had barely thought about the safe word now etched on her mind.

It was a long slow walk back to the entrance and she made progress only through gritted teeth.

“You made it then?” Kimberly said in a rueful voice as Clarice emerged from the passage way.

“Yes,” she hissed with a wince, taking a moment to pause in her step.

She noticed that Kimberly looked decidedly uncomfortable and was standing with an awkward stance.

“I wasn’t sure,” she said almost regretfully, “I thought… I thought we could probably both use something to really clear the cobwebs away.”

“I usually just need… you know,” Clarice replied with a tight smile.

“I know but…” having taken a step forward she sudden widened her eyes as made to clutch her behind. “Jesus, I almost used that damn phrase twice. You?”

Clarice smiled more warmly and shook her head. “I didn’t even think of it.”

“Shit, you don’t mean…?” Kimberly was suddenly horrified.

“No, its fine, you’re right. I didn’t forget it, I just didn’t think of it… you know, I was just caught up in it all.” Clarice laughed.

Kimberly sighed and nodded. “Oh, I know. Next time we will explore a gentler scenario.”

“Hmmm,” Clarice replied.

“Oh, yeah, not your thing this,” and Kimberly pulled a face.

“No… it’s just, maybe once a month something like this is, you know, about right. I’d rather do the Mr Right thing when I… you know, find Mr Right,” she winked.

“Oh God, I’ve created a monster,” Kimberly giggled.

“Yeah, that and something else,” Clarice added pensively, “A big problem.”

“What’s that?” Kimberly asked without concern.

“I don’t think I can sit down, how are we going to get home?” Clarice winced for emphasis.

“Standing up on the bus I should think,” Kimberly giggled, “We can get the car tomorrow.”

“Or next week,” her friend said ruefully.

“Or next month…” And they giggled.

time paradoxAdam Lacombe sat back in the deep leather seat and frowned. This was bat crazy. He grinned, he had to. In life there are always those moments when you have to laugh or cry and this had to be one of them.

Caitlin Trance didn’t blink; she was well used to this response from first timers. In fact as such situations went, Adam was taking it rather well. The cool immaculate blonde appraised the dark-haired and somewhat rugged leather jacketed man in front of her with less than a professional eye. Damn, this is not the time she berated herself.

Adam didn’t like the over-sharp officious woman that much and wondered if she were mocking him. He hated her superior smile and her airline hostess hair piled carefully and tightly on her head. There was not a smudge on her oh so subtle make-up dressed face, and he distrusted such perfection.

“So you are saying that because Charlotte Dane, the First lady had some kind of domestic argument with her about to be ex-husband, World President, Mark Levingston-Khan, we are about to go to war?” Adam said lightly as if he heard such claims every day.

“Essentially yes,” Caitlin answered.

“And…” a smile broke onto his face as it could no longer contain the laughter, “You are saying that the only way the Time Corp has devised to prevent this war from happening, is for me to go back in time and give the said Ms Dane a personal attitude adjustment…?”

“Yes,” Caitlin said sharply. Her gaze was now fixed on the man as if all things hung on his understanding.

Adam opened his mouth and sucked in air.

“I thought… I mean,” he slapped the air and then seized at it with his large powerful hands as if clarity of thought could be captured too. “I thought that you people didn’t interfere in major events.”

“That’s right and we rarely, if ever try and change things, but this war… Mr Lacombe… oh God, we don’t have time for this. The Neutrino weapon has already been armed… there will be no more future if we don’t act.” Caitlin looked desperate.

“And the only way, of all the things… of all history to influence… the exact and only way is to go back into Charlotte Dane’s life and spank her?” Adam was incredulous, then because the idea was too big or too trivial he blurted out another thought, “And anyway… why me?”

“For the sake of all things holy…” Caitlin groaned. “I don’t have time to explain any of this.”

“Try,” Adam snarled.

“Okay…” Caitlin sighed as she gathered her patience. The clock was ticking but once he made a temporal exit, she supposed it wouldn’t matter. “We can’t change big things… that would be… look, just believe me, we can’t. We have determined that the pivotal moment, the one pivotal moment was when the President was late for a meeting at the end of last week. If the events of three days ago could have been delayed… for God’s sake we almost had it… the commandoes got there too late and now those damn maniacs have armed the…” Breathe, Caitlin, breathe, she told herself.

“And if Charlotte hadn’t picked that minute, if she hadn’t worn her estranged husband down to such an extent, then the great diplomat of the 23rd century wouldn’t have been distracted at a crucial moment?” Adam put in.

“Exactly,” Caitlin said urgently.

“And one spanking will, what? Make her a nice person? Save their marriage…?” Adam frowned.

“Wwwwelll,” Caitlin drawled, “I estimate it will take at least three, maybe more… look here is a personal history. It’s a kind of itinerary. Key moments that will change her but have a negligible effect on our known history.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Adam asked suspiciously.

Of course she wasn’t, Caitlin thought bitterly, but they had only had hours to work out all the permutations. Hell, she hadn’t even consulted the Director or the President. But she was certain that all the other options they had considered had suggested somewhat negative outcomes.

“Yes,” Caitlin said emphatically.

“What if…?” Adam began.

Caitlin had no more patience. “Look Mr Lacombe, you are here. You are in the loop with regards to what we do, and you fit the profile. We have no more time,” she urged him. She held out the itinerary, her face dripping with exasperation.

“Fine,” he sighed, “What do I do?”


Charlotte Dane hadn’t been too sure how much laxolite to put in Lacy Jones’s coffee and at the last minute a small shred of decency had led her to only empty half a packet into the beverage. It hadn’t been her fault that Lacy had shared some with several other girls. Maybe if they hadn’t been such pains then the routine wouldn’t have been messed up. How was she to take over the squad from Lacy with half the girls either vomiting or otherwise in the locker rooms?

At least no one had suspected her intervention, she thought with a shrug. Well that debacle is down to Lacy now, after all she was the head of the cheerleading squad. Maybe now Charlotte finally had a shot.

Charlotte was still deep in thought when she noticed the large dark-clad man watching her from the corner in the shadows.

“Hey creep, this is the girl’s locker room,” she sneered, but she was rather hoping he was an admirer; he looked quite the hunk, even if he was a little old.

The man narrowed his eyes for a moment and then tossed something onto the bench beside her. Charlotte gulped nervously. The laxolite box landed with an accusatory clack.

“I-it wasn’t me,” she blurted.

“What wasn’t you?” Adam asked as he stepped forward.

God this was strange, it was less than 20 years in the past but already it seemed like a foreign land. He had eyed the motion ads and vid-news headlines with a sense of overwhelming nostalgia. Seeing the future president talk about the need for better healthcare had been spooky as hell. Had anyone ever looked so young?

He turned his full attention on the president’s future wife and frowned. Jesus, what a brat, he thought sourly.

“Um…” Charlotte eyed the packet on the bench and flushed, “It was just a… eh… a um…” she winced and ended feebly and an upwardly inflected tone with, “… a joke.”

“You… you bitch,” someone hissed from the stalls, “You did it.”

Kathy Martinez emerged gaping at the transfixed cheerleader vice-captain.

“No I…” Charlotte wailed and looked around in panic for the exit.

The door was already blocked by a rather green looking Lacy and some of the others. Besides, she didn’t think she would get past the hunk standing unchallenged in the girls’ locker room. Then in a sheer act of desperation bolstered by years of getting away with it and a good dose of entitlement she made a try for it anyway.

Adam caught her easily and hefted her dangling and kicking under his arm.

“Get off me you creep, you bastard, you… you…” Charlotte blustered as the man sat where she had been and hauled her across his lap. Then with a vague inkling pushing into her mind, tentatively and in a strained voice she added, “Hey come on, what are you doing? It was a joke okay.”

The cheerleader skirt was short and lifted off the red cotton encased hills of her bottom easily. So easily that Charlotte found the decorum to blush as she squirmed her body and mind. Her mind because she was certain that one vicious quip or a catty put down would undo the embarrassment and save the day. After all, she always got her own way.

Then the unthinkable happened. Drawing heavily on Caitlin’s earlier read notes Adam made a gentle tug on the waist band of Charlotte’s cheerleader panties. Then after only a hint of resistance from the garment, he slid them down over the naked white domes of her bare bottom and onto the dusky tanned thighs on their way south.

“Nooo get off me,” she squealed.

But not one her friends came indignantly to her aid and most of them began to laugh.

Adam’s hand landed firmly and sharply with a stinging swat that echoed back at him off the low ceiling. It was a satisfying crisp sound that left his palm tingling and a bright red hand print on Charlotte’s bottom.

The hapless cheerleader yelped ostentatiously and kicked out. It was a martyred sound designed for sympathy and not yet in earnest.

Adam spanked her thrice more and with intent, and this time he was rewarded with a grunt from Charlotte and a small ripple of applause form the onlookers.

“Come on please, not here, I mean… don’t I…” Charlotte wailed incoherently, torn between denial and mitigating her doom.

Adam spanked her two or three times more and then shook the tang out of his hand. The girl’s naked red bottom was firm to hard under his assault.

“Here Sir,” said Kathy said breezily, and handed him a sports pump from off the opposite bench.

“Oh noooo come on, not that,” Charlotte protested.

But after a brief test of its weight Adam applied the spanking shoe with gusto.

Charlotte’s cried and protests were dynamic and in less than a minute she was panting harder than she ever had after a dance off.

“No more, please no more, I’m sorry… shiiiit, noooooooo… aah,” she squealed in anguish well on her way to tears.

The spanking lasted a good while, well beyond the powers of her bottom to stay either white or unbruised and she was a pile of sobs long before Adam dropped her to the floor.

“Hey is there any of that laxative left?” one of the girls shouted with glee and seized up the packet off the bench.

As Adam left there was veritable scrum of 18-year-old girls behind him, all fixing to share their displeasure with the future first lady. Spank the cheerleader and save the world, he thought as he left and then laughed. No one would ever believe this.


The small familiar dorm room looked strange to Charlotte now. It was like an enemy or a hated thing pressing down on her. She couldn’t shake the sense of inactive nausea, which manifested itself in a need to endlessly vomit the unphysical clawing at her belly. It was an invasive feeling that made her feel more unclean than at any time in her life and she had only herself to blame.

A former version of Charlotte would have been mad at the world that she had been caught and would have viewed her family’s intervention to hush up her crime as only her due. Now she felt something else… distaste, embarrassment, no not quite that. At least she had been caught cheating on the exam. What if she hadn’t? Wouldn’t she have felt worse?

Again if she had been but aware of it, in another time she would have been angry and smug by turns at dodging this bullet. After all she might have been ruined for life. It was amazing what money and a donation to the school could do. But at 21 she should know better. No that was the problem at 21 she did.

She thought about all the other times she had nearly got away with it; twice in high school, and twice, no three times since starting college. Each time he had been there, resented, hateful and… she heaved a sob… and finally somehow comforting. Well after the second time anyway, she didn’t want to think about the first time.

Well she was 21 now and knew better, such childish rescues from herself were behind her. She sighed. A sigh that became a sob and violently she hugged herself. I won’t cry, I won’t, she demanded inwardly.

The knock at the door made her wince. She couldn’t see anyone now, not now.

“Who is it?” she groaned.

But already she was standing and moving to the door. She was done running away, done with… well almost, she decided.

It should have been a surprise to see his frown glowering at her, but somehow it wasn’t.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“One day I’ll tell you,” Adam said darkly as he pushed into her room.

She yielded with polite token resistance and then backed all the way up.

“I’m too old for that,” she protested.

“You think,” Adam replied.

“Oh come on… I… I mean you can’t, you just….” she did a furious little dance of frustration and punched at him, before she spat, “can’t.”

“You have a hairbrush,” he stated simply.

“Oh no,” she shook her head in denial.

She had of course. A large flat sided one that she had seen in a market. Strangely she never used it and had only bought it on a whim. He found it where she had left it, unused and in plain sight.

The motion that placed her over his knee was a smooth one. So was the act of lifting her skirts and sliding her white cotton panties right down to her ankles.

“Someone will hear,” she muttered softly.

“Then let them hear,” he said dismissively, “It won’t be the first time and besides, afterwards I am going to put you in the corner downstairs in the senior student’s lounge. Bare bottom displayed of course,” he added, unsure if he meant it.

“You wouldn’t,” she gasped.

But not only did she know for certain that he would, she knew that this time she deserved it. A sentiment he put to the test with the first spank.

“Omigaaaaaah,” she howled.

This spanking was like no other. The hairbrush slammed down on her exposed bottom like to do so would save the world and blast after blast it left Charlotte breathless between howling. It was a cinch her backside was spent now, useless and beyond sitting forever she shouldn’t wonder, a detached part of her brain pondered. The same judgemental soul also considered if he was serious about his threat to have her stand public corner time. The embarrassment would kill her obviously and render all other matters redundant, but if it didn’t she would never cheat anyone again. Boy to see her mother’s face once it came out that her precious daughter had been spanked, and after all her twisted scheming. Maybe she needs a spanking too… this thought might have ended in a giggle but the ongoing onslaught began to really burn now and no one on her corridor could have doubts about the current activity within her room.

Okay, you can stop now, she thought as she began to really struggle. No really, nooo… but for Charlotte it had only really begun.


The spanking finally over Charlotte clawed her way sobbing into Adam’s chest and bawled herself clean. His arms were a cave and she never ever wanted to leave them.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” she wept as she hugged him.

“Feeling better?” he whispered.

She found a secret smile as her head rubbing his chest signalled assent.

“Then it is time for that corner,” he said sternly.

Her breath raced in her chest again and she choked back a sob. She was never going to live this down, never… but deep in her heart she knew she deserved it and the organ pounded in her chest at the presence of his vengeful and determined strength. But as she tentatively stumbled to her feet and on to the door and her utter shaming, he held her.

“That corner will do,” he said gently pointing to the empty space next to her dresser.

The relief shattered her and she broke to fresh sobs.

“You won’t leave me this time, will you?” she sniffed as almost meekly she obeyed his finger.

“I think you’ll stay put without supervision,” he chuckled.

“Yes Sir, but I don’t mind if you… you know, watch me for a while,” she said shyly, her hand stealing a rub of her throbbing tender bottom.

He nodded.


Mark Levingston-Khan was going places, that was true enough, but somehow Charlotte wasn’t convinced. Once upon a time marriage to an important politician like Mark would have been all she could ask, but now… she sighed. So what if Mark would one day be president like everyone said he would; was that what she wanted?

She thought about her dark stranger and the kick up the pants he had provided over the years as she had matured into a woman. Never changing and always omnisciently turning up when she most needed him. Now at 28 she hadn’t seen the man in almost seven years, but she had never forgotten him or his rather firm hand. Could someone fall in love with a man one didn’t know? It was a childish question, not to say a moot point, but then again in a way she knew him and he her more than anyone ever would.

She looked at the dress in the wardrobe and thought about the party and all those famous people and panic gripped her. No, she wouldn’t do it. Mark and his world was not for her. For one thing he was a good man and loaded with integrity. She on the other hand had cheated and bribed her way through life.

True enough she had come to regret those lapses and had learned her lesson well, but that line of thinking only took her back to the dark stranger and all that that had entailed… No, for once the family and their expectations could go hang.

Charlotte reached the transit in less than eight minutes from making-up her mind. She had one bag and only 17,786 credits in the bank, but it would be enough, they would never find her and Mark could forget her.

Happy at her resolve, she sighed and looked about. The transit station was empty now and a cold wind blew from the north. Mark had gushed about weather control, but for him it was about food for the poor, not for rich little girls who didn’t want to be uncomfortable. See, too good for her, and she smiled. Still it would be sheer stubbornness and way too hair-shirt not to use the waiting room so she headed that way.

Each heavy step echoed down the platform and as she walked the lights slowly came up to linger only long enough to illuminate her passing. Damn, so few people tonight. No correction, none, she sighed, no send-off then. It was a bitter thought. Would she be missed, she wondered?

“Charlotte Dane,” said a voice.

She knew it at once and her heart skipped a beat. Not that she dared turn around.

“What have I done now?” she asked softly as she stood transfixed half looking back over her shoulder. There was the desolation of dying hope in her tone. She wanted to ask, to know… but somehow she knew she would hate the answers.

“It’s not what you’ve done, but what you are about to,” he said gently.

I don’t want him, I want you, she wanted to scream. This was insane, beyond insane even. So out of fear she became angry and rounded on the dark stranger.

“Who are you or more to the point, who do you think you are?” she challenged him.

“I am Adam Lacombe,” he said simply, “Think of me as your guardian angel.”

“Adam?” her voice softened and she saw affection in his eyes, affection or perhaps something else.

“Are you going to spank me?” she said ruefully, but this time she hoped it was true.

“Probably,” he chuckled, “I certainly am if you try to duck out on your…”

“Duty?” she sneered, again remembering her anger.

“Destiny,” he said firmly. “I am from the future, almost eight years from this time,” he added.

She looked down, suddenly afraid, afraid to even look up at him. Ten years was a long time, even with modern creams and surgery… well something would show in his eyes. Hadn’t Mark had hinted at such things. He was now party to such information, but she didn’t need him to tell her it was true. Then she looked up and saw Adam for the first time. He was at most 40, the same age he had been 10 years before when he had turned up after the cheerleading debacle and spanked her.

He had spanked her again a month later after she had snuck off and indulged in… she smiled. That had been embarrassing, but thinking back so was nearly fellating a boy she didn’t know while drunk on stolen booze. She had been grateful to the man after that, well almost. It had been another year and another spanking before she had really begun to get it.

“Why did you do that?” she had sobbed back then.

“Because you’re worth it, because one day you need to be better than you are,” he had answered cryptically. That was the first time she had realised she had had a crush on him.

She thought about the last time and the hug. An afternoon spent silently facing the corner while he had watched her. She had never felt so close to anyone as on that day.

“Why me?” she said so softly that she thought the words might shatter.

Adam laughed a gentle dismissive laugh. Not at her question, but because he had asked Caitlin much the same thing.

“You’re the future president’s wife,” he said, “And something is going to happen.”

“This is crap,” she groaned, “No really, there is no way I can be that important, not in what eight years you say. What could I possibly do that will…?”

“You already did it, you already had your little tantrum,” he said sadly, they were both trapped, he could see that now. “It wasn’t really your fault, not really but you… you kind of destroyed the world.”

“I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, what are you talking about?” she felt tears prick her eyes, but she trusted this man, and why else would he bother with her? It was true.

“No you couldn’t and you won’t, not now,” he said quickly, his smile reassuring. “But I changed not only you, but potentially the future too. If you don’t marry Mark Khan…”

“What will happen?” she gasped in horror.

He rocked back and let his head tip so that he looked up at the stars. Then came the world’s longest sigh of regret.

“I don’t know,” he said wearily, “I truly don’t, but with what is at stake…”

“Eight years, after that then the world will be… what saved, will I be free?” she said urgently.

He shrugged.

The wind blew then and an empty paper packet drifted along at their feet. She thought of the air like sand slipping through her fingers… like time. She needed something, a catalyst, anything; after all she couldn’t just… submit like this.

“Make me,” she challenged.

He looked down and frowned. “What?” he said quizzically.

“I said, I won’t marry Mark unless you make me,” she allowed herself a smile.

“This is not a…” he began. He was angry now. Maybe this brat hadn’t changed.

“A game?” she finished for him, sadness had crept into her voice. “Please… give me something, let me have…” She didn’t know why she needed what she did.

“Alright,” he barked, returning to his old demeanour.

He took her by the arm and set off towards the waiting room with her tottering in tow.

Charlotte protested even as she thrilled inside. God was it going to happen?

They reached the door and he led her inside. Caitlin had given him a security bracelet with an open access code for any time that the system had been in use. Adam hit a generic and silently cut any nascent or active surveillance. Then still dragging Charlotte he sat down heavily on the bench seat and tumbled her across his lap.

He was well practiced with her now and it didn’t take long for her pants and then panties to slide down sporty tanned legs to her ankles.

“What if someone comes?” she wailed.

“You should have thought of that,” he snapped and then in genuine anger he brought his hand down sharply on her bare bottom.

“Going soft old man,” she spat at him in mock anger.

“Good job I brought this then isn’t it?” he growled as he produced a hairbrush from his leather coat pocket.

“Oh Christ,” she gasped and added a genuine shriek as he spanked her with it hard.

“I don’t think he is going to help you today,” Adam rasped as he landed a biting volley.

Charlotte gasped more earnestly and slapped her hands out in front as she grabbed at anything to gain a supporting purchase; it helped sometimes just to hold on.

“You’re such a smart Alec aren’t you?” she groaned through clenched teeth.

“It’s Adam, remember, smart Adam, only it’s you who is smarting,” he chuckled.

“Bastard,” she hissed through a grimace.

“So they say,” he snorted and settled in for an epic round of spanking.

The long flow of thwacking and squeals would have been almost comedic to an outside listener, but there were none. This party was just about a man, a woman and a hairbrush, oh and one sore and ever redder bottom. It was a long party.

Finally after Charlotte had been sobbing hard for several minutes he felt her collapse into herself and he pulled her up into a hug. There she clung on for an age, great heaving tears soaking his shoulder as he gently rocked her.

“Do I have to marry Mark?” she whispered at last.

He sighed heavily and squeezed her tight. “Yes,” he said with a deadly finality.

Charlotte nodded and squeezed back. “Not yet, I can’t go yet,” she wailed in panic.

“Not yet,” he cooed. “Besides I want to explain.”


Objectively Adam Lacombe had only been away for a few days and as he stepped through the portal into the antechamber back at the Time Corp he was shaking. A side effect or just an emotional response, he pondered? Maybe it was just lack of sleep. Oh well it was over.

He was wondering this time whether Charlotte and Mark were happy and whether the commandoes had got to the bomb in time. Maybe there had never even been the prospect of a war? He laughed, God what if half a dozen spankings really had stopped a war? He could form a spanking corps and rewrite history.

“Stop,” someone yelled.

He froze and looked around. The female voice had screamed from the speakers.

“Hey up,” he called back.

“Don’t leave the machine, for God’s sake,” said the now less shrill woman.

He recognised her this time and then he saw her through the view plate. Caitlin Trance looked badly shaken.

“Oh shit, what’s happened?” Adam felt sick. They had meddled with time; it had been crazy to begin with. What had he done to the world?

“It’s alright Adam,” said another voice.

His heart skipped and he felt his heart lurch. Damn foolery, he cursed himself. But it was Charlotte, the world was ending and all his thoughts were of her.

“Adam we have a problem,” Caitlin was saying. “I… I think I may have screwed up.”

The outer door opened and the two women entered the chamber extension. Then once totally within the device they came on through.

“As long as we are in here we are isolated… I think,” Caitlin said in a brittle cautious voice. Her full immaculate mouth made pensive wincing movements as she spoke.

“So…. What happened? Is it alright or not? Did it even work?” he said trying to sound calm.

“Oh it worked, one cured brat, a half successful if loveless marriage and Mr President saves the world… tat da!” Charlotte said ruefully.

She was older, but no less beautiful. She had that mature gravitas that many women get when their youthful softness firms up and they gain poise and confidence. She was better groomed too, styling her formerly wayward red hair into a well-crafted auburn. Her eyes smiled at him.

He smiled back more openly.

“You don’t have time for that,” Caitlin growled, “You have to go back.”

Adam whirled on her and snorted derisively. “What the hell?”

“She’s right Adam,” Charlotte said now nervous. It showed as she licked her lips and in the return of her more girlish stance.

“Okay, what did I do wrong?” Adam said wearily.

“Nothing, it all worked, only…” Caitlin looked embarrassed.

“You only went back to change time, to change me because the world was about to end,” Charlotte said wistfully. “Thank you. I didn’t thank you,” she added affectionately.

“Well yes,” Adam said exasperatedly, and made an impatient gesture. Women… grrrr!

“But well… the end isn’t ending because… well you fixed it… I mean I was right about that. I mean I can’t know how the world you remember differs from the one we have now but not by a lot I suspect – all except the last few days. The days when I got you to go back as you remember it.”

“As I remember it, you were there?” Adam accused her.

“No I wasn’t. I was at a party celebrating the end of the crisis. You are probably there too or somewhere. So you see I had no reason to send you on your mission,” Caitlin winced.

Adam made to answer and then stopped. Shit. He got it now.

“But that’s obvious, isn’t it, why didn’t you…?” he yelled, “Why didn’t you know?”

“I don’t know, it was another me, all I know is that if you leave the chamber then we have a paradox, the wrong loop will be… oh shit I don’t even fully comprehend.” Caitlin’s former cool was thoroughly breached now.

“So how… how do you even know all this if you don’t remember?” Adam asked, his brain now fully on the matter in hand.

“A chance meeting with Ms Dane,” Caitlin said eagerly, “I mean it all made sense… I mean… I knew it was possible and I looked you up. Everything fitted even the totally secret details. I must work out some protocols for this,” she added distractedly.

“But if you go back and do it again, this time because we sent you… perhaps you don’t even have to complete the mission if you go back to a point after it was completed…” Caitlin was sad now.

“Adam you can’t ever come back as you,” Charlotte blurted.

Adam had already guessed that and he nodded.

“Then there is just one more thing I have to do,” he said in a deadpan voice.

He was calm and efficient, but without stopping for breath he grabbed the cool blonde Caitlin and upended her across his crouching knee. Then from his leather coat pocket he retrieved the hairbrush once used on Charlotte and he began to apply it to the seat of her oh so superior little problem.

“Mr Lacombe,” Caitlin shrieked as she kicked her heels. “You can’t do this.”

“She’s right,” Charlotte said, now rather amused.

With that she stepped forward and yanked the time scientist’s skirt down so that the zip burst in back. Then with another tug she added the panties to the mess of material now bunched around the lower thighs.

“I might have deserved the half dozen spankings she arranged me to have but she oh so deserves this one,” Charlotte said with relish.

“Oh no, no, no, no, noooo,” Caitlin wailed.

But Adam was an expert now and besides he had absolutely nothing to lose. He might not be able to transcend time and ensure that Caitlin remembered this, but he was sure going to give it a try.

Fifteen minutes later the bawling woman was sporting two purplish red pads of leathery pain on both cheeks and Adam began to slow the pace.

“Oh, are you sure that’s enough?” Charlotte cooed and smirked.

“Yes, oh God yes,” Caitlin sobbed, her face was a mess of running make-up and snot.

“What she really needs is a couple of long hours in the corner, somewhere public,” Charlotte giggled.

“Oh please,” a heavily breathing Caitlin pleaded.

“Now I would love to see that, but it’s time to go,” Adam said quietly.

“We could go back to yesterday or a thousand years,” Charlotte said huskily. “As long as we don’t come back… the world will include us in history and what we did. Two… people who just disappeared one day.”

“We? You can’t go. I have to or… anyway there is still a me out there. But you’re the first lady…” Adam said sharply.

“Just one more mystery,” Charlotte shrugged.

“I warn you if you even think of going with me I will spank your bare bottom raw until you can’t sit down for…” Adam urged as he shook her shoulders.

“I guess I will have to just put up with that,” Charlotte grinned.

He made to push her away but instead they kissed. They were still kissing as they backed into the portal.

“I love you,” he said in a thick voice.

“I have always loved you, ever since I was a cheerleader,” she giggled.

“We don’t have…” Adam began his protest.

“Time?” she finished for him, then she laughed adding,“But we have all the time in the world. Certainly time enough for love.”

indigo1Indigo Signature BannerThe early morning warmth, pushing my bottom against your thighs and wriggling until you wrap me in your arms and make me blush.

The plans we can make that fill up calendars – parties and gatherings that blossom along the path of our year as it curls into the distance.

Sunday afternoon spankings that leak into twilight kisses and wine for dinner under the sheets.

The secret boxes of objects I seldom see but often feel. Contents ordered without my request or my approval, used on me without hesitation

The lingerie, bought to make your eyes pop that become messages with time, little notes you read when you enter the room.

“I want you to kiss me until I am dizzy”

“I have been deplorably naughty (and I am not sure I care.)”

“May I have another, Sir.”

“Make me.”

You have seen me cry, tears of sadness, fear, frustration, or pain.

You have seen me ill, excited, exuberant and sloth like on my tummy watching a film.

You have seen me in all my incarnations of lover, dutiful daughter, worker, friend and stranger.

You know every drop of me. I drink up every drop of you.


music nudeRuth has been in contact a few times, mostly to offer up some corner time photographs. In her own words she is obsessed “with spanking, corner time and most aspects of embarrassing submission.”

She writes, “I have had a yen for the subject of spanking for as long as I can remember but my first experience didn’t come until I was 18. It was a particularly humiliating situation but not an original one for the 1970s. Ever since then I have fantasised about some very extreme situations and even experienced a few myself.”

My first was with my music teacher and his wife. While in my last year at six form and for about 18 months into my college time I went to their house every Saturday for piano lessons. I was a lazy little madam with no demonstrable talent, but then as now I tend to be stubborn and anyway Dad was paying.

But I was often late and rarely practiced until one day Mr Samuels lost his patience and pretty much gave up on me. He told me if I were his daughter he would put me across his knee. You can guess how I felt inside. From then on I provoked him as much as I could until he finally lost his temper. I had been late that day and it was obvious I had done no preparation.

He called his wife and then in front of her gave me an ultimatum – either I could leave or he would spank me. I couldn’t believe it – I was 18! I was so embarrassed and in front of his wife too. Like I said I was stubborn so…

My first spanking was over his knee on the seat of my jeans and it hurt. It really hurt and I was totally embarrassed. Worse still his wife made me stand in the corner after where I stayed for the rest of the lesson which we couldn’t have anyway since I hadn’t done the work.

It was an odd feeling after, but I definitely had a renewed respect for the piano.

I was spanked on two other occasions after that – it was so embarrassing and like I said it hurt. In my fantasies he spanked me bare and left me in the corner in front of other students, but that never happened.

Years later at 24 I went to live with Jonathon and Michelle as a sort of housemate-tenant. They were married and a bit older than me and despite getting on we clashed over my cleanliness and not paying my fair share. At some point while drunk I told them an embellished version of my experience with Mr Samuels and Jonathon said maybe I still wasn’t too old for a spanking.

Although I squirmed Michelle loved the idea and egged Jonathon on until finally daring him. He asked me point blank if I had really been spanked by my music teacher and I admitted I had.

But I had told them it had been on the bare…

That was my first bare bottom spanking – very long and very, very hard, Michelle especially loved the part where I had to stand with my red bum showing in the corner.

That was the first of many and it became a regular thing – half fun and half real discipline – many a time I had to stand up in front of clients with a hot throbbing bottom wondering if it showed that I had been spanked that morning or the day before.

I used to fantasise that if I messed it up my MD – whom I had a crush on – would spank me in front of everybody and have me standing in the corner while he took over the presentations.

Thanks for using my pictures and for the great blog.


I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you Ruth for sharing.

Weekly Round-Up


wr able wr about wr acknowledging wr allthings wr devlin wr rollin wr starlets wr yeowchI could really get to hate passwords. So many applications demand you have one, which is fair enough, but then they want you to change them every six weeks or more. They won’t let you have one you have used before and they expect you to remember one you made up in a hurry. So either you have to endlessly reset your password or else you have to have it on a post-it note next to the computer. How safe is that? Better to let me have password1 and have done with it.

Passwords are a little like safe words in reverse. One opens the door the other stops the action. That is if one uses one. All the books on consensual spanking and BDSM say such things are essential, but in my experience spankees don’t like them.

“What is the point of that?” I have been asked, “Of course I’ll want you stop, but what kind of wimp stops when a girl asks?”

Actually this is wrong-thinking in my view, but she has a point. All safe words do is shift the responsibility from the Dom to the Sub, which is a cop out. Not to sound judgemental or superior, I am sure I have missed out, but most of my spanking experience has been within a relationship where you have taken time to build up trust and learn to read your partner.

It must be harder for those that explore casual encounters, which is why the ‘what’s the point?’ comment is a dangerous one. But safe words can become as fraught as passwords. How do you choose one? You can’t have Ow or ouch, can you? But I can imagine that supercalifragilisticexpeallydocious would also have issues.

“Aaaah sooop-ahhh- shit dally noo frag… aahhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!…” she screams.

“What’s that honey? Just another hour to go – unless you can say your safe word properly,” he grins.

Anyway, onwards and upwards; thanks everyone who has filled out the poll, actually just a fraction of the recorded visitors. Also it occurs that since I was vaguely gauging visits over a month then I should leave it prominent for a month. As I said it isn’t a serious bit of fact finding but it is useful in help estimating visits from unique people.

It is also very gratifying to know that it is my stories that brings you back. After all if you had said, ‘no we love the random waffle that you throw together in half an hour and the pictures you cribbed from elsewhere’ then it would beg certain questions. So thanks very much.

Coming up this week is more Indigo and an anecdote. Not sure what stories will be ready… but no doubt something will fall into place. I have an Ad Astra half written and it must be time to return to the Sinclair Method. I am also planning another trip to Abraham Heights, but that might not be this week.

The Spank Statement has a feature on South American spanking in just one play and examines the various different treatments of the subject. There are several clips to see.

Pictures this week were found on: Yeowch, Able, Spanking Starlets, at Rollin’s, Devlin, All Things Spanking, Acknowledging Imperfection and About Spanking.

Vintage Sunday


birch desk birch nude birch pose


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