5b447218ae5a2_1__2_Sorry I am late no one told me.

If you are a silent reader who has never dared to leave a comment, now is your chance. We know you’re out there, so don’t be shy! You are among friends here. You may remain anonymous if you wish, or use a pen name. What should you say? That’s entirely up to you.  “Hello” is fine. I would love to know what country you live in.

More here.

Marking Time


1 a wait

I have just started to revisit In the Service of the Wolf. There are actually relatively few chapters left but I suddenly realised that I haven’t posted an update since April. Sorry about that.

I also know that many of you have been asking about Abraham Heights. I have plans here too. There are a few chapters that are written but are reserved for the next book. But select episodes will be here soon.

Vintage Sunday


vin 25737393322_f7e4f6200f_zvintage-70s-tv-f014lvintage-spanking-brutal-vintage-spanking-5c7c7dac675ee-1vintage-spanking-brutal-vintage-spanking-5c7c7f0c3d78a-3vintage-spanking-brutal-vintage-spanking-5c7c91dca707c-1

Bygone Daze


! AA cane! daze
On discussing the demise of CP from western society feelings were mixed at a recent forum. One woman from Wisconsin rather matter-of-factly mentions being sent out back with her sister and cousins to cut switches ‘for a thorough application to our bare bottoms.’ This, she claims, when she was college age. ‘Not really much of a big deal back in the 1950s. Not sure if it did us any good, we were only ever sorry we were caught. Then again it probably did us no harm beyond a day or two of standing at the supper table. Embarrassing? Sure. Painful, my God, did I mention not being able to sit down?’

Around the same time 20-year-old Louis M failed to successfully bring a prosecution in England against her employer for spanking her. She was employed as a nanny and occasional maid. The court rules that as a minor (being under 21) and a dependent, her employer had a right, if not a duty to act in loco parentis and give her a spanking.

Miss M’s main objection seems to be that she was not only spanked on the bare bottom but ‘kept in for a week on her days off.’

A little further back in time (as recently as the 1930s) housemaids in Norfolk, England, were sent in little more than their short shifts out to the woods to cut birch rods. Reverend T.A. Martin notes in his memoirs seeing many a revealed bare bottom peeking out from the hedgerows as forlorn young girls gathered up the needful.

Another account from a little early sheds light on to how the ‘needful’ was  attended to.

Former housekeeper, Jane Ferris, wrote in her memoir A Country House, The footman and other males staff having been dismissed, the errant girls were scolded in the servant’s hall and then one by one made to bend across the table for a good swishing, applied of course to where it did the most good.

! anete6

Part 1 here.

It would have been over by now, if only she had paid attention. She sighed, she felt such a fool standing in the corner like an errant child. God, what if someone comes in… her tummy did a tumble and she chewed her lip as her face flushed. Doubtlessly the risk was low or Dan would not have gone for coffee, still…

Her bottom still stung from the cane and she could feel lines of seemingly hot steel bursting through her lower curves. She could not help touch the tender spore but then remembered Dan’s threat and snatched her hands away. Hopefully a few quick finger dabs would not count as rubbing. She pumped her knees and did a small shimmy to shake out the burn, God this was so humiliating.

After what seemed like hours Dan came back.

“It looks tender,” he said.

“Yah,” she drawled, she sounded thoroughly miserable.

“Where were we?” he said rhetorically and took up the cane.

Anette shrugged.

“Eight more wasn’t it?” he said and noisily swished the stick.

He was dragging this out, she thought, but she knew if she would do the same in his position. God, he must be loving this.

“Alright come out and bend over,” he said.

Anette turned and scowled before shaking her head in denial.

“Come on,” he growled.

She shrugged and with slow careful steps moved to obey. Only eight, only eight, ran the mantra in her head. As she flopped over the padded surface she was embarrassingly aware again that her bottom was sticking out and served up for his pleasure.

“Do I… do I…?” she began.

He caned her hard and she screamed in surprise.

“Nineteeen, thank you sir, may I have another please?” she yelped.

“You may,” he said and caned her again.

“Ahhhhh-eeee-mmmm,” she hissed, “20 thank you sir, may I have another please?”

He caned in hard right where once she could have relied on sitting.

“Hmmmmm,” she twisted and screwed up her face and let out a long slow breath before groaning, “21 thank you sir, please may I have another?”

The cane stroke followed and she all but yelled out the request and began to grizzle. This was hard and getting harder.

Twenty three and 24 followed just as quickly and she counted each.

“Three more,” Dan said, “You are doing well.”

Anette sniffed and nodded.

“Just relax, no need to count now,” he told her.

She was panting heavily and barely acknowledged him.

Dan waited.

Oh God, oh God, ran through her mind.

Then he caned with a vicious swipe and before she could scream out he caned her again.

Anette tensed for a third that did not come. Then she finally relaxed and he laid on the last.

Anyone beyond the room might have heard a scream. Inside Anette sagged and sobbing like a bottom-spanked teen.

“All done,” Dan said brightly.

Anette collapsed over the padded bench and sobbed. It was a good cry, she felt clean. Dan patted her shoulder and put away the cane.

After a while Anette clambered to her feet and vigorously massaged her bottom. “Wow,” she gasped. There were still tears, but now she breathing mostly normally.

Dan smiled reassuringly and then regarded her sternly. “I haven’t told you yet, but I have been promoted,” he said.

“Oh,” Anette gaped, that explained his response to her attitude. “Congratulations.” She tried to smile. “Look, I am sorry about my behaviour, both today and… well most of the time so it seems.”

Dan set his jaw as if pondering something. “I am not sure you are suited to this job,” he said.

Anette felt a surge of panic. “You can’t fire me,” she blurted, “I’m sorry, really fucking sorry.”

His glare warned her. “I am not firing you, but I can relegate you to the back office, to reception maybe, or the processing unit.”

“Please Dan…” Anette would hate that.

“The alternative is a kind of unofficial probation,” he suggested.

Anette nodded quickly. It didn’t pass his notice that she hadn’t let go of her still bare bottom yet or asked to get dressed.

“Does that sound fair?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said quickly, “Yes Sir.”

He smiled. “So we have a deal, but remember if you screw up again or give or anyone any attitude, even clients… you and I will be having a very long conversation here in this room.”

Anette gulped. “Y-you can’t mean…?” she felt a surge of panic.

“It’s that or the night shift doing gate guard duty,” Dan told her.

Anette gave him a pout and nodded. “Can I get dressed now?” she asked.

Dan appeared to consider this and then made a significant glance to the corner.

Anette let her jaw drop.

“I think in honour of our new arrangement and to make sure you know your place,” he grinned and gestured to corner of the room, “One hour… I will watch you from the monitors.”

Anette winced and sagged dejectedly. “Yes Sir,” she groaned.

Dan was still grinning.

The end.



Deadlines, deadlines, so I will keep this brief.

Ronnie Soul has another set of links to new spanking sites.

I have also added some pictures from BDMLR.

The rest are from AAA, Vanilla Spanking, Devlin, and Contemporary Spanking.

Vintage Sunday


Prussian Girls0200vin 1930s473_carryingtheflogger (1)vin _o8rmbuw6w31td0p2ho1_500

! anete2

Part 1 here.

Anette lay panting hard. Her bottom felt like she been blowtorched and she was absolutely mortified that the tears were streaming down her face. Dan had been spanking her for minute after minute and when it stopped was entirely his call.

Before the paddle had touched her bottom she would have thought that this would have been more embarrassing than painful, now she would almost opt for a laughing crowd and an end to spanking rather than continue.

“D-Dan, Dan… please,” she gasped.

Dan paused, “It is quite red now,” he grinned.

Anette looked round at him, misery etched on her face and her face with tears.

“I don’t suppose you are going to sit down for a week,” he snorted.

“A week, try for a month,” she said ruefully.

“You are on,” Dan shot back and spanked her again.

She yelped. “I didn’t mean…” she spluttered. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Dan patted the super red behind with the paddle and looked far from finished. “I will give another solid dozen and then see if you can put that into words for me.”

“D-Dan, Dan,” she protested but the paddle bit down hard and she felt 10 zillion bees drill into her tender bottom.

The paddle struck again and sent her cross-eyed with the burn. Between heavy breaths she managed to cry, but she was sure her bottom would never be the same again. Fool, she chided herself, all the girls think that, every one of them I have had in this room. Maybe I deserve this? The uncomfortable thought came unbidden and she arrogantly suppressed it.

“Did you have a confession to make; an apology maybe?” Dan said in low voice as he bent low to her face in faux sympathy.

Anette sniffed and nodded rapidly.

“Well,” he snapped after a long pause. He let the paddle fall hard and fast by way of punctuation.

“I’m sorry Dan, really sorry,” she said breathlessly.

“Sorry for what exactly?” he pressed her

“Ah… for… you know?” she wailed.

He spanked again and then again with an angry strength.

Anette yelled and shook and she rode the wave of pain in her backside.

“Are you sorry for the disrespect you have for this job, for our clients, for me with your mockery?” he suggested.

Anette sniffed and nodded miserably. It was true. “I am sorry,” she said devoid of guile.

“Okay then,” Dan said, “We can move on to the cane and then you can thank me.”

“Oh God,” she groaned.


Dan studied Anette’s bare bottom with an expert eye. It was hard not appreciate her figure and for a moment his professional detachment slipped. Her elevated bottom was pert and shiny red, which only served to emphasise her curves.

“Two dozen,” he said at last and took a deep breath.

“Yes Sir,” Anette blurted and then cursed herself for the slip.

Dan grinned and patted her bottom with the cane.

Anette hissed at each tap and wriggled her behind.

“I want you to count these out with a hearty ‘thank you sir,’ after each stroke,” Dan told her.

“Oh come on,” she wailed.

“I thought you were sorry,” he growled.

Anette scowled and made a pout. “I am,” she muttered.

“If you give me anymore attitude I will add six,” he warned, “And…” he paused for emphasis, “If you fail to count that stroke won’t count and after that I will add a stroke too.”

She wriggled in frustration, but she had done much the same when dishing it out.

“Do you understand?” he said.

“Yes,” she said sullenly.

“Make that yes Sir and when you count,” he barked.

“Yes Sir,” she groaned.

“Was that insolence, I haven’t started yet?” he asked.

“No Sir… I…”

He caned her.

Anette baulked. The stroke cut deeper and sharper than she had imagined. It took a moment for her to yell.

He waited.

“That one doesn’t count,” he said at last and caned her again.

She was mid protested when the second unspeakable searing cut stole her words and she screamed.

Again he waited.

“That one doesn’t count and you have earned a penalty,” she said incredulously.

“No come on,” she spluttered, “One Sir, thank you sir,” she added quickly.

“Too late,” he said and caned her again.

This time she gasped to a croak and felt a panic when she could not speak. Then she wailed, “One thank you sir.”

“Better,” he said and caned her again.

“Two thank you sir,” she quickly but had to breath rapidly to contain the sawing slice of the rod.

“OK, so now you are learning,” he said and caned her again.

Anette panted heavily and gripped the bench hard. She wagged her bottom in a vain bid to shake out the sting. There was a short pause and then the third stroke, that is the fifth, cut in hard and she yelled with pain. “Three thank you sir,” she said in a grizzly voice. Her bottom was well-marked with stand-out scores and she was properly crying now.

He took her to the count of six before he allowed her to recover a little.


Anette regained her breath slowly and checked her tears. Her bottom felt as if a razor had been scored across it and she wondered if she were bleeding. Women in her position had said much the same thing and she had always laughed. Now she knew what they meant.

“Dan,” she sniffed, but trying to sound serious.

“Anette,” he replied brightly.

“I am sorry. I never knew you felt like that. I never meant to disrespect you or the job.” The words came easily and to her surprise she meant them.

“And what about the clients, the women you laughed at? You playing with the machine were just a symptom of that,” Dan sounded angry like he had bottled up his frustration with her for years.

“You are right, I am sorry for that too. Really I am,” she tried to sound as sincere as she felt.

“So will you take your medicine willingly?” he asked and brandished the cane.

She looked back ruefully and gave him a small nod.

He cocked both eyebrows in disapproval.

“Yes Sir,” she said.

Dan studied the stand-out ridges that marred her proffered pert bottom then he nodded and moved forward. “We will proceed,” he said.

Anette took a deep breath and braced herself.

The stroke was the worse yet and finally surrendering her pride and all resistance she gave out with a heartfelt scream.

“Remember to count, I won’t warn you again,” Dan growled.

“Seven, thank you Sir,” she gasped.

Dan struck the next stroke low where her bottom met thighs and Anette responded with a shriek. She was crying again and struggling to find her voice. “Eight, thank you Sir,” she said at last.

The sliced her across the crowns of her bottom and she knew she was in purgatory. “Ahhh, ninnnne-mmmm, t-thank you sssir,” she hissed.

Ten and 11 followed on quickly and then he paused until she thought the anticipation would kill her. Twelve was a doozy and again she screamed.

“Twelve, thank you sir,” she blurted in a quick tight curse.

Dan put down the cane and examined her well welted bottom. “Alright, he said, you can go to the corner and think about your last 12 strokes. I want this lesson to sink in.”

The corner was humiliating and she hoped to hell no one came in, but she took a deep breath and did as she was told. Giving her bottom a rest was all she wanted just then. “Yes Sir,” she said, the mark of respect now coming readily to her lips.


The wait stretched into an age, each minute an hour, each outside sound a threat that another colleague would enter the room and see Anette standing in the corner like a naughty teenager.  Her well-striped bare bottom, so obviously on display, dominated the room. The 23 minutes of timeout seemed like an eternity and yet the moment Dan said ‘alright bend over again’ she momentarily pressed her nose harder into the wall as if it might stick and delay the rest of her caning.

Once she was bent over with her bottom sticking up Dan took up the cane.

“This time I want a small refinement,” he told her, “After every stroke I want you to count and say ‘thank you sir,’ but then to add, ‘please may I have another sir,’”

“You’re kidding,” she blurted.

“What was that?” he barked.

“Nothing Sir, ‘please may I have another sir, ‘yes I understand,” she quickly replied.

“Good girl,” he said.

The stroke hurt, then it really hurt, and then it went on sawing into her like a lumberjack at work. She screamed and thrashed about for a moment.

“Thirteen thank you sir,” she yelled, as much as a release as out of obedience, then added, “May I have another sir?”

“You may,” he said and caned her again.

Her reaction was more subdued this time as she cringed into the pain.

“Fourteen thank you sir, may I have another?” she growled angrily.

“Attitude?” he snarled.

“No Sir, sorry sir,” she sniffed. She was crying again.

He caned her again and she gurgled. “Fifteen thank you sir, may I have another?”

At 18 strokes he paused while she panted for air and clenched and unclenched her bottom. There was scarcely anywhere on her behind left unmarked now.

“May I have another sir?” she repeated in case he hadn’t heard her. With just six to go she didn’t want one a single penalty stroke.

Dan didn’t answer, but menacingly tapped her bare bottom with the cane.

Anette gasped and cringed.

Then he struck.

“Jesus Christ almighty,” she yelled, adding, “19 thank you sir, may I have another?”

He caned her again with the same response.

“Thank you sir, may I have another?” she babbled.

There was a lovely long pause that was as tense as a taught wire. Then he caned her again.

“Twenty thank you sir, may I have another?” she groaned.

He caned her again.

“Twenty-one thank you sir, may I have another?” she could scarcely manage now.

“You haven’t counted 19 yet,” he told her, deciding that she wasn’t going to realise her mistake.

“Wh-what?” she panted, “Please God no.”

“The count starts at 19 with three penalty strokes,” he told her.

She started bawl like a child.

“I will give you another rest,” he said, “You have eight more strokes to go.”

She nodded, any argument would piss him off and by now she knew he was playing by old school rules.

“I need a coffee so you can go and stand in the corner until I get back,” he told her. “Oh and don’t move while I am away, don’t rub, don’t take your nose from the point where those two walls meet. I will check the recordings before I delete them.”

The canteen was half a mile away, this time her punitive vigil would be a long one.

To be continued

! bdsmlr-351612-i86nZfPd1G

I had hoped to post the final part of Woman vs the Machine and press on with The Wolf story by now. I had also hoped to provide a seasonal horror short. I regret that I have been so busy with the world.

Just a small note that traditionally in Saxon (old English) pagan tradition Halloween was the eve of the days of the dead and the first week of November were the true days of the dead. This chimes amazingly with the Remembrance season and the honouring of the fallen. I might write more on this and tie it in with a more on topic post but for now here is a seasonal picture of sorts.



This week I want to give a special shout out to Vanilla Spanking, I nabbed a picture above.

Ronnie Soul has more blogs to find.

Other pictures were found at AAA, Real Spanking, Devlin O’Neil, Au FilsSpanking blog, Spanking Magazines and Grumpy Old Fart.


The number of visits to this blog

  • 19,199,777 thanks