she will learn2Part One here

In the morning it rained. Not so much just felines and co, but elephants and hippos. Susan cursed the longer bus queues and the overcrowding. Not that she needed a seat. After her meeting with Mr Barrington the last thing she wanted to do was sit down. In fact it wouldn’t have surprised her if a severe case of bottom-ache didn’t keep her standing on the bus for the rest of the week. Still she got to work on time and wasn’t surprised to see no sign of Karen.

Karen, as it turned out, was late. Not much later than usual to be sure, but this time she had shopping with her and dripped rainwater all over the office floor.

“Hurry up,” Susan chided the girl from where she stood at the filing cabinet. Filing was a good choice for a woman who couldn’t comfortably sit at her desk.

“Half a mo’” Karen said irritably as she struggled with a sodden umbrella before it occurred to her to hang it on the coat rack. It took her moment to put the shopping bags down and divest herself of the wet raincoat. “Is he in?” she asked nervously, “Did he see me come in?”

“He is, but he doesn’t know you are late,” Susan told her with pursed lips, “Not yet.”

Karen gave her senior a pained look of exasperation.

“He was quite specific last night,” Susan sighed, “I have to tell him.”

Karen gaped and shook her head in disbelief. “You don’t,” she said sharply.

Susan nibbled at her lower lip as a hand strayed to her behind. “Oh I do, believe me,” she replied.

Karen frowned petulantly and made a sulk-face. Then she shrugged, what of it, she supposed?

Twenty minutes later Karen watched petulantly as Susan went to Barrington’s office with some files. She just knew that the conversation would be about her. Sure enough when Susan came out she said Mr Barrington wanted to see her.

After their little chat Karen worked quietly all afternoon and without a mistake. Susan was finally convinced that the girl had turned the corner. A hope that continued the next day when wonder of wonders Karen came in three minutes early, only five minutes after Susan herself.

This newfound conscientiousness held up until the following day when Karen was less than a minute late and Susan decided not to notice. Although the girl didn’t exactly pull out all of the stops, she didn’t actually make a huge gaff or blatantly skive off either.

It seemed that Karen’s good behaviour had lasted about as long as she had nursed a sore bottom, Susan thought dejectedly. Now I have to watch her like a hawk before she drops me in it.

The next day Karen was late again, a mere five minutes, but Susan had to suffer the girl taking an age to make tea and the sitting down with a magazine while she fussed with her nails. Susan sighed heavily; a memo to Sir was definitely called for.

*

“You sneak,” Karen snarled and slammed the memo down on Susan’s desk. “An official written warning, you told on me?”

Susan might have felt guilty about being tell-tale but Karen’s use of the phrase ‘told on me’ sounded childish and it was all she could do not to laugh. “You don’t think Mr Barrington knows? I am only doing my job,” she shrugged.

“I am out of this dump just a soon as I can find a better job,” Karen snapped her fingers, “Just like that.”

Susan shrugged again. Suits me, she thought, but kept it to herself. “Oh really,” she said without a hint of sarcasm.

For the rest of that week and all of the next Karen was the perfect employee. Not particularly effective and she did have to be told things at least twice. But often these were new tasks, jobs she hadn’t been fit for, or had ducked out of before. Not that she had given up the idea about leaving. At least once a day Susan found the jobs page with positions ringed in red.

However, with a girl like Karen it couldn’t last and by Tuesday of the following week Karen was 15 minutes late and was in a paddy about something. She jammed the calculating machine, the hole-punch and an intercom button came off in her hand; all by stomping around and using the equipment like a tantrum-seized gorilla.

When she saw Susan looking at her she just glared back. “Don’t you start, I didn’t get a wink last night and that bastard…” she bit her tongue.

Shocked by the language Susan concluded that Karen had some boyfriend trouble. A guess confirmed when she caught Karen quietly crying in the kitchenette in a rare moment of vulnerability.

“Are you alright?” Susan asked.

Karen straightened up and muttered, “He dumped me,” before resuming her battle face and walking away. Eventually she went to lunch 20 minutes early and did not get back until after two.

“Mr Barrington wants to see you,” Susan said in a neutral voice once Karen finally returned.

Karen sighed and genuine regret hung on her face. “I guess I am going to get the push aren’t I?”

Susan made an attempt at sympathetic face. “Maybe,” she offered. What else could she say?

Karen eyed the door to the office like a devil was about to burst through it and licked her lips. She took an age taking off her coat and shuffling papers on her desk. If she was asked what she was working on she wanted to at least remember some of it. Then finally she adjusted her pullover and smoothed her pencil skirt down. Then taking a deep breath she approached the door to Barrington’s office and knocked.

A thousand years passed before there was an answer and when it finally did, the voice of doom intoned, “Come.”

For some reason Karen’s usual bravado deserted her, and instead of readying a line of cheek, she swallowed hard and wondered if he meant it when he said he would give her three chances.

Barrington looked stern sitting behind his desk and braced a pencil between his thumbs as he regarded her as a headmaster might a miscreant schoolgirl.

“Y-you wanted to… eh… see me Mr Barrington?” Karen suggested hesitantly.

Barrington’s gaze didn’t waver and he indicated a chair.

As soon as she was seated he sighed and put down the pencil. “You recall our last two conversations?”

Karen nodded meekly.

“I told you a couple of weeks ago that I would give you three more chances,” he continued.

“Yes Sir,” Karen agreed.

“You have used up two of them and are now facing… well let’s be blunt, by rights I should dismiss you,” he explained.

Karen felt the heat rise in her face and she averted her eyes. “Yes sir.”

“A pretty girl like you could easily get another job, recommendation from me or not. Notwithstanding that, as far as I was able I would probably give some sort of positive reference,” he went on. “But then I would be back at square one looking for a new girl and no doubt watch her make a muck of it like you have.”

“Yes Sir, please Sir, couldn’t I have one more chance,” Karen wheedled.

“Oh indeed yes, I have already appraised you of that. The same chance I give all you girls. I am not fool enough to think that one seeing to will put paid to your mischief. Never has before,” he rolled his eyes.

“Seeing to?” Karen seized on the phrase, it sounded rude, but nonetheless hopeful. She wondered if he meant what she thought he meant and weighed up whether she would go with him to keep her job or not.

“Yes girl, pay attention. I mean to give you a damn good spanking, then we will have done with this nonsense until next time,” he growled.

“Sp-panking sir?” she lisped and gaped at him, surely he didn’t mean to really…?

“Oh yes,” he said archly, “Ask Susan or any of the other girls in this building.”

Karen executed a small gulp and sat dumbfounded. Not because he had threatened to spank her, but at the idea that the straight-laced, butter-wouldn’t-melt, Susan had actually been spanked. A small smile played out on her cherry-stained lips. Then she tried to focus on her own plight. “I will, I mean… oh God, you won’t really will you?” she blushed.

“Over my knee, bare bottom, spank you until you are singing at both ends so to speak,” he told her and then seeing her violent blush he added, “Your bottom will be as red as your face by the time I am done.”

“B-bare?” she gasped.

“I’ll give you until the end of the day to think about it and if you decide to leave I will send your pay on and we will say no more about it,” his tone indicated that the conversation was over.

“You dirty old man,” she said without conviction.

His eyes flashed and he looked as if he might explode. “That will cost you if you report here after five, but it is your choice,” he snapped.

The air hung awkwardly around them and even Karen thought she had gone too far. But it was clear that the interview was at an end and she got up to leave. As she left the office she was shell-shocked and her face told the whole story.

“Threatened to spank you did he?” Susan said dryly. There was no triumph in her voice and for a second there might have been a hint of sisterly solidarity.

Karen blushed a little more but executed a small nod.

“Are you going to take it?” Susan was curious.

“Oh God, I don’t know, do I?” the girl wailed, resorting to type and the moment of camaraderie was gone.

*

Susan found something to occupy her right through to quarter past five, all the while watching Karen sitting in miserable confusion at her desk. As time got later it got more and more obvious that Karen had decided to keep her job and that Susan’s presence was no longer welcome. In the end the decision was taking out of her hands. Barrington’s office door opened and he called her in.

“Oh Lor,” Karen whispered as she straightened up and reluctantly walked across the office and went in.

“So I see you are still here,” Barrington observed. The old silver fox hadn’t sat down and was instead frowning thoughtfully at her.

“Yes Sir,” she mumbled unable to meet his eyes.

“Do you need any more time to think about it?” he asked.

Karen shook her head.

Mercifully he didn’t wait while she agonised. In a trice he stepped forward and upended her across his lap so that her head hung to floor as he occupied an armless chair by the door.

“Ooh,” Karen exclaimed as she suddenly found herself bottom up across his lap.

“Next time I will have you remove your skirt and underwear to make ready, but as this is your first time I will do the honours,” he warned her.

“Next time?” she squeaked, already disconcerted by this hand at the hem of her skirt as he lifted it along with her slip to reveal her panties.

Barrington stopped and hauled his little employee almost to standing so that he could meet her eyes. “This is not fun for feeble minds you know,” he snapped, “I already told you; I don’t expect to cure you of being a feckless lazy good for nothing after one spanking. If you think if you can take this and then go on as things were then there is no point to this.”

“No Sir, I mean yes Sir ooh…” she flustered.

Barring hauled back over his lap so that her nose almost touched the floor and spanked her once sharply across her underwear. Then after a beat to give her one last chance to cry off he slipped down her pants to reveal her bare bottom.

“Mr Barrington,” Karen exclaimed.

He responded with another brisk spank.

Karen yelped and tried to process the indignity as her eyes danced in her head. Then the spanking began in earnest.

Outside Susan grinned like jackal as she readied herself for home time. There was no mistaking the steady rhythm of a good spanking from within the office, and if there were any doubt, Karen’s steady stream of yelps and squeals confirmed that she was well and truly getting it.

Susan sealed one last envelope and then made a decision. She could wait.

Meanwhile inside Karen’s bare bottom was good and red, with mottled patches extending onto her legs and the rounds of her hips and thighs. His hand hurt well enough, but not half as bad as she had feared. The mortifying indignity was harder to contend with. What was worse was that she could not shake the conviction that she probably deserved a spanking.

“Sir, Sir, I’m sorry,” she wailed and prayed that Susan wasn’t listening.

“I dare say,” Barrington muttered and finally set her on her feet. “Nose to the corner, no rubbing mind,” he ordered.

Karen didn’t need telling twice, although she thought being sent to the corner a bit much for a grown woman. “Yes Sir,” she agreed ruefully.

Barrington watched as she obeyed, satisfied by the way her pert little bottom glowed red like two berries. “Your skirt and slip… they need to stay up,” he warned.

She rolled around and gave him a pout, but thought better than to argue and was a sigh of utter embarrassed misery turned back to face the wall and began to cry.

Outside Susan, suspecting the spanking was over, knocked on the office door with the envelope.

“Come in,” her boss said from within, and she didn’t wait.

In plain sight Karen was well and truly in her place, nose to the corner with a seriously red bottom on show. Susan grinned. “Letter for you Sir,” she said breezily.

“Bitch,” Karen sniffed.

“Oh we have all been there,” Susan giggled.

“Yes and that reminds me,” Barrington said darkly, “’Dirty old man’ was it?”

Karen felt a surge of panic, “No Sir I…”

“Miss Hazelmere, pass me the suit brush in the top draw of my desk will you?” Barrington said sharply.

“My pleasure Sir,” Susan leaned over and retrieved the item.

“You might as well stay for the next part, do her some good and anyway she may need some advice afterwards,” Barrington suggested. “After all, I have a feeling this is going to be a regular event.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan smiled.

“Oh Sir, please Sir, ooh,” Karen wailed.

“No, stay as you are, there really is no rush,” Barrington chuckled.

*

Once her business with Barrington was concluded Susan stood back against the wall to finally see Karen get her comeuppance. Barrington himself hefted the stout Kent clothes brush and patted it against his hand.

“This could take a while,” he said as he regained his seat in the armless chair and beckoned the woe-stricken Karen with one crook of his finger.

“Not in front of her,” she wailed as she turned and saw Susan’s almost smug satisfaction.

“Yes, in front of her and from now on she only has to write a memo to me and you will be kept in after work for more of the same,” Barrington said firmly.

“Oh Sir,” Karen bleated and actually wringing her hands. “It’s not fair.”

Barrington arched one eyebrow in warning.

“Well I don’t mean not fair but… oh please don’t let her…” Karen blustered as she hopped from one foot to the other like a trapped bird.

“Don’t let her what?” he asked sharply.

Karen dipped her head and said nothing.

“Right, over my knee girl,” their boss barked.

“Sir,” Karen groaned and obeyed.

This time her bottom was well arched as if trying to moon heaven. A posture well suited to what came next.

“You remember how this goes don’t you Miss Hazelmere?” Barrington said crisply as he lined up the flat side of the brush against Karen’s very bare bottom.

“Oh yes Sir,” Susan said ruefully.

Raising the brush he brought it down with a crack and Karen yelled. Not for the last time, but no less heartfelt. In moments dozens of spanks had landed and her bottom, only mildly red before, became angry and deep in shade.

“Sir, oh sir, sorry sir,” Karen bleated, scarce able to cope with or comprehend the fire now alight in her seat.

“Ooh, that is tender Sir,” Susan observed with a wince as she pretended some empathy.

“I hope so,” the boss chuckled.

Karen could only add a stream of yelps, grunts and screeches as she bucked and twisted across Barrington’s lap. By then of course her bottom was matt red and somewhat puffed up and welty. Fresh tears too had found their way to her eyes, and while her mind raced in a search for words to make it stop, she could scarce draw a breath.

“Are you sorry?” Barrington asked the now sobbing girl.

“Yes Sir,” Karen said frantically.

“Are you going to behave from now on?” he pressed her as he spanked on.

“Yes Sir, promise Sir,” she wailed and kicked.

“And you deserve this don’t you?” he asked.

“Oh yes Sir,” she yelled, not sure if she meant it.

The spanking halted.

“Then say thank you,” he told her.

“Thank you Sir,” Karen said breathlessly.

“Good girl, now go back and stand in the corner,” Barrington ordered.

Karen nodded in rapid agreement, struggling to hold on as the fire raged in her bottom.

This time she went to the corner without a hint of defiance and even stuck her bottom out in surrender. It took a moment, but the tears that had briefly been under control began to burst forth again and she was ready to indulge herself with a good cry.

Susan nodded in satisfaction and Barrington and her exchanged smiles.

“Glad you took your medicine?” he said to Karen once her crying had finally abated.

“Yes Sir,” Karen said emphatically.

“Good girl, welcome to the team,” he laughed.

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” Karen panted.

“Okay off you go. Miss Hazelmere, help her put a wet flannel on it or something.” Barrington coughed as if he was suddenly very conscious of her inappropriate nudity.

“Yes Sir,” Susan smirked.

“I told you she would learn,” was Barrington’s parting words as Susan helped Karen to the ladies’ cloakroom.

Once outside Karen decided against covering her bottom just yet and stopped to massage her rear end with gusto. “Is it always that bad?” she said now smiling through the last of her tears; so glad that it was over, for now anyway.

“No,” Susan assured adding with a wink, “It is usually much worse.”

“I guess I will learn,” Karen said ruefully and rolled her eyes.

Ends


birch domesticbirch Russian-19C-domestic-birching2birched pantaloonsMuch has been written about the birch. A Voice even carried some anecdotes a few years ago about the old country custom of sending maids out dressed only in their shift to gather birch roads for a good sound birching. This is custom prevalent in some places before the First World War, seems to have survived on occasionally into the 1930s. After the Second World War the age of maids, in Britain anyway, came to an end and so did the need to birch them.

Here a few more examples of county punishments that neatly segue into another birching escapade.birch

Milly Jeffrey writing for Titbits in the 1970s recounts an experience she had in 1939. She was working on a farm in Shropshire along with several other girls. Most of her article was about these bucolic days but she refers to the day they got to ‘messy around.’

“As the nearest, Lizzie got a few good swats on her bum from the farmer’s wife, Mrs K, which got us girls all steamed up that we were too old to be treated that way. Silly when you think that our childish hi-jinks had the hay bales in a mess and not one of us was over 20. Things escalated until Mrs K exploded and said what we all needed was a damn good thrashing.”

“Crazy as it seems now we were all made to strip out of our coveralls and sent into the nearby woods to gather sticks. Despite the situation the sight of four girls naked from the waist down and four bare bottoms scampering about got as all giggling. Not for long as we soon found out what the sticks were for. Little bundles swiped across bare bottoms left us all teary-eyed with great red wheals on our skin. These were real stand out welts and all for answering back more than anything.”

“The remaining sticks got made into a broom, the business end of which found our bottoms more than once after that.”

A respondent to the letter sympathised and recounted how when she was in service in the 1950s the house she worked in still kept a ‘block’ in the basement. The block, she explained, although never used in her time there had been used for birching the maids in former times.

The block is an old method for birching school boys in former times, Eton had one I believe and so did Rugby school before the advent of the cane. Although since out of favour in boys schools by the turn of the century rumours persisted that girls were still birched in some places.

Indeed formerly reported here were suggestions that a certain girls’ school in Kent was still birching girls on the bare bottom in 1970s and 80s.

Back in the 1980s glamour model, Tyler T, recounting her school days a decade before, was asked if she was ever spanked or caned. In a throwaway line not followed up she said that she was never spanked and that her school didn’t have the cane, but the “very bad girls might go across the block occasionally.”

No doubt the reporter didn’t understand the reference, but it seems clear enough and quite suggestive. I wonder if she was educated in Kent.

The Kent anecdote, if you missed it, was the suggestion that the good nuns of that county were given to birching six form girls across the bare bottom. I could never identify the school or substantiate the rumours.

However a young lady at my school who was kept back for another a year of the Upper Sixth had to sign her own permission slip in order that she might get the cane. This was the 1970s. no birches were used that I know of, but it proves that a 19-year-old could still expect CP back then.

birch _outsidebirching_block


Community

10Dec18

1 C nun-law-8001C dressage-captive-8001C jack frost1C jane_british_spanking_1948_may_swtspt1C jane_in_the_buff_swtspt1C mistyspankeddiapered11C superman-11C superman-3tumblr_n19coeTqIh1s2oacvo1_400tumblr_ntyr4e5yYP1qcl5z5o1_5401C woman-spanks-womanI suppose the big news this week is that most, if not all, spanking and nudity is about to be banned from Tumblr. It seems that the Big T is about to reinvent itself, beginning with a purge. Most vanilla experts seem to predict the death of Tumblr, who  also host a lot of community empowerment and independent photo artists, but who really knows?

This is not the first time Tumblr have made such announcements, but this time they seem to mean it. This week I include a few random images from Tumblr as a kind of farewell tribute I suppose.

Most of the other images this week seem to be cartoons, although I have included the top two images from the Spanking Blog, as I couldn’t choose and it seemed apropos to have the nuns. There are photos from  AAA and a rare F/F image from Dallas.

The Jane pictures are from our old friend Sweet Spot who made the contribution to Chicago Spanking Review. Jane was a British WW2 heroine who was either getting naked or variously spanked in her Daily Mirror cartoon strip. It is said that when she first appeared full frontal the 8th Army advanced 50 miles.

Others are from Dave Wolfe and a good Superman selection on Vanilla Spanking.


Vintage Sunday

09Dec18

2vin art2vin otk2vin stewardess-12vin tears012vin wall


blushing bride
There seems to be a custom in some parts of the world for spankings around weddings. I have disparate sources from Alabama, Kentucky, the Czech Republic and Westmorland (England) that have (or invented) spanking traditions. Maybe you have some stories or have seen some?

The first tradition is where the bride is spanked by her new husband (presumably symbolically) either at the reception or immediate after the service. This is reflected in several contemporary ‘fun’ shots by the photographer at English weddings. You might have seen some doing the rounds, bride bending while coyly nibbling her fingers. Sometimes the skirts are lifted for a raised hand. There are a lot of cheeky bridesmaid pictures doing the rounds.

The second is more exotic where the bride is spanked by one parent or other shortly before (or sometimes at) the wedding. There are a lot of historic sources for this in Slavic countries and also Wales and Lancaster of all places. I have a picture somewhere of a young girl, seemingly reluctantly dressed in jeans and t-shirt, but incongruously with a bridal veil, across a much older woman’s knee getting a spanking while others look on.

Finally there is a growing tradition of brides and often the maid of honour being hazed at hen or bachelorette parties. In the US this seems to be linked with sororities as we will see from the short anecdote below.

This involves spanking the bride with a paddle, often on the bare bottom. From pictures I have seen often the bride is smiling but with a very red bottom. Often these girls play for keeps, as the saying goes.

Kathy from Westmorland contributed to a bridal forum:

“Jane (presumably the chief bridesmaid) and I were more or less pressured into doing a naked streak down the street on my Hen Do (bachelorette pub crawl). We were all pretty drunk, I have to say. But once we got back to the carpark next to the pub they wouldn’t give us our clothes back. Jane was handcuffed to a lamp post while I had to take turns going across some of the girls’ laps for a spanking. It was a bit of a laugh although it did hurt and it was so embarrassing. They promised to let Jane go if I was a good girl and took my smacks, but what they didn’t say was that afterwards I would get handcuffed and she would get spanked. They left me and her naked in the carpark and our clothes with the handcuff keys on top of a van where Jane couldn’t reach them. It was freezing, but funny watching a naked and red-bummed Jane jumping up and down. It was probably only five minutes before some of them came back to release us.”

Jo and former sorority girl ‘got paddled good.’ She and some of her former sorority sisters were partying by the pool at one of their house to celebrate her pending marriage. It was agreed that for old time’s sake they would each take some swats. ’ She wrote:

“It was all a bit of a set-up because although most of the girls did take swats, it was just from the last girl. When my turn came I had to strip off much more and then everyone wanted a turn on my butt. Where most of the girls kept their panties on I had mine removed. Six swats-a-piece on the bare butt; I got paddled real good. Real tears, real red bottom, real sisters.”


She Will Learn

06Dec18

1 she will learn1Karen was hopeless. She had only been working at the office a week and already she made more mistakes in administration than any of the other staff had ever made in their entire careers. Miss Hazelmere was all for sacking the girl but paternal old Barrington wouldn’t hear of it. All he would say on the matter was, “she will learn.”

All very well for him to say, but it wasn’t him who had to phone 17 customers to explain variously why they had been sent the wrong invoices, received wrong packages and in some cases hadn’t received anything at all.

She will learn, was that it? So much for ‘you never had it so good,’ it was all very well for the Prime Minister to say that but with record employment girls like Karen were stepping in and out of jobs at will. In 1958: sack them and they didn’t care; sack them and they were damn hard to replace.

Susan muttered a few choice words and wondered if the old man was finally going soft.

Karen Temple also had a habit of going early for lunch and coming back at least 15 minutes late. Barrington was usually in a meeting and never saw this or pretended not to. Hazelmere had to bite her tongue. This was going to be a classic case of choosing her battles.

“Do you think old Barrington will let me go early tonight?” Karen asked from her desk opposite. She wasn’t even paying attention to her senior co-worker but currently sat fixed on her nails with a small metal file. She may have been a natural blonde but the ashen-white beehive definitely had some help from the bottle, and hadn’t been cheap by the looks of it. It was definitely a salon job.

Susan gaped at Karen incredulously; the girl had absolutely no shame. “No, I don’t think he will let you go home early,” she snapped.

Karen rolled her eyes and made a sullen pout with her full lips.

All lips and hips that girl, Susan thought and shook her head. Blondes were all the rage it seemed, the Marilyn Monroe look was definitely in. With a hint of introspection the routine chestnut-headed Susan wondered if she were jealous.

That train of thought was rudely interrupted. “What do you think he would do about it if I did go?” Karen asked without breaking off from her beauty routine.

Susan glared. Not some many years back a certain rookie brat, not a million miles from where Karen was sitting got her panties warmed by one Gerald Barrington esquire for far less cheek. Had she learned? Not quite, a second session had finished with a threat to take her knickers down if she didn’t ‘buck her ideas up.’

After one monumental screw-up she had faced the choice of the sack or a very sound spanking on the bare bottom. She might easily have resigned and found another job, but she had stuck to it and taken the consequences, as painful and embarrassing as they had been. More than once she had had to contend with a red face and a very red bottom; she had learned alright.

“Why don’t you go and ask him?” Susan said icily, half hoping that she would.

Karen mouthed the words back in muttered mockery and sneered before returning to her make-up and nails touch up.

Susan was beginning to wonder if her irritation with the girl was turning into out and out loathing.

*

It was a few days later when Gerald Barrington raised his voice to summon Susan into his office.

The senior girl gulped and felt her bottom clench. She hadn’t been spanked in almost a year, but the tone was unmistakable.

Barrington’s face was like a brooding sky before a storm and Susan licked her lips nervously as she waited for him to speak.

“The Jamison order…” he began.

Jamison & Sons were their biggest clients, Susan braced herself.

“You checked the invoice before we sent it?” Barrington said darkly.

Susan tried to think. Of course she had, “Yes Sir,” she ventured hesitantly.

“And it went?” her boss continued.

Susan cast her gaze around looking for a memory or an answer before finding it. “I put it in Karen’s in-tray, for the post I mean. It was checked a sealed.”

Barrington relaxed a touch. “Old man Jamison called while I was out. He is going to call back. That usually means a problem and I know the orders are good; we talked them over a golf game not two days ago.”

“Can I check?” Susan sounded almost meek. Please don’t let Karen have screwed up, she prayed.

“I think you had better,” Barrington growled.

Susan turned an about face and hurried out to Karen’s desk. As usual her in-tray was full and Susan hefted a pile of envelopes and sifted through them. The invoice was still there.

It was a long walk back to Barrington’s office carrying the envelope and she wondered if she would get sent to the corner again. She would die if Karen saw her compromised like that.

Barrington sighed. “I suppose you are going to blame Karen again,” he said.

“No Sir,” Susan groaned, “It’s my fault.”

Barrington eyed her sternly. “I will deal with you later.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan was almost relieved. Later meant after office hours and by then Karen would have been long gone.

She hadn’t gone two paces when Barrington said in a thoughtful voice, “Send Karen in when she gets back… where is she anyway?”

“Lunch Sir,” Susan answered in a neutral voice.

“Lunch, it is almost two,” he said in surprise, “Did she leave late?”

“N-no,” Susan said, hoping she didn’t sound like she was telling tales again.

“Hmm,” he said, “Send her when she gets back.”

“Sir,” Susan acknowledged. Fat chance anything would come of it.

*

“You wanted to see me Mr Barrington,” Karen said girlishly and fluttered her eyelashes.

Barrington looked up and smiled. “Miss Temple, yes, come in and close the door.” He looked at his watch. “Good lunch was it?”

Karen blushed and shifted uneasily on the spot in front of his desk. “Yes I…” she finished with a nod.

“I noticed the other day you had your coat on a good five minutes before home time.” He said casually, “You very efficiently went on the dot of five.”

Karen pouted and avoided his gaze.

“Miss Hazelmere was still here at 5.30 I noticed,” he continued.

Karen shrugged and now certain that was not her problem finally met his eyes.

“You hadn’t cleared your in-tray I understand, not even the post, a simple enough task to attend to on your wait out, I would have thought.” He smiled again as if awaiting a perfectly plausible explanation.

“Mr Barrington I don’t see…” she countered.

Barrington held up his hand to bat her words away. “Let’s not waste each other’s time with… recriminations. You are a bright girl, you understand my point. Miss Temple, you have a bright future here, I am certain of it. You just need to apply yourself. I am certain you will learn.”

“Thank you Mr Barrington,” Karen said shyly.

“Now I don’t think you have shown Miss Hazelmere respect, after all she is the senior girl,” he smiled.

Karen didn’t reply.

“So here is what we are going to do. I am going to give you three chances, not bad eh? But I am going to leave those chances in the hands of Miss Hazelmere,” Barrington smiled magnanimously.

“Chances, Mr Barrington?” Karen didn’t like the sound of this.

“Yes, the next time you forget to post a simple letter for instance, or come back late from lunch… that kind of thing, and Miss Hazelmere thinks it warrants bringing to my attention then you will get a warning.” He explained.

Karen frowned. She really didn’t like the sound of this.

“The first time: we will have a little chat, like this one,” Barrington positively beamed at her. “After that I will have Miss Hazelmere write you a memo outlining your shortcomings. If we have any more… disrespectful behaviour then you will face disciplinary action.”

“You said I would have three chances?” Karen blurted.

“Oh yes. You see an adverse report will affect your pay review, but we can avoid that with an unofficial sanction of some kind. The latter, not being on your record, will also protect you from dismissal proceedings for repeated offences, so a double advantage really.” Barrington fixed her with a steely gaze and leaned forward.

Karen felt the heat rise and dipped her head. So she had been caught out sneaking back from lunch, she would be more careful, message received.

“Don’t worry about it Miss Temple, you will learn,” he said and indicated the door with a paternal wave of his hand.

*

Susan Hazelmere stood in front of Barrington and chewed her lower lip nervously. The butterflies in her tummy were working overtime, unlike the rest of her colleagues, leaving them both alone in the office.

“You may leave the pullover on, just remove your skirt and so forth,” Barrington coughed.

“Yes Sir,” Susan said shyly as she blushed furiously.

“I am waiting for a call so once you are ready you can stand in the corner,” he said sharply.

Susan swallowed hard and shot a look at the exterior door that led to the corridor. She prayed the cleaners would not come too soon. There were two doors to his office; one leading to the outer office, the other straight into the hall. She took a deep breath and reached back to first unbutton and then unzip her skirt before wriggling out of it.

Barrington had stood up and was gazing out of his window with a cigarette; a gentlemanly gesture that she appreciated. It didn’t make stepping out of her panties any easier, which she stepped out of only after a deep sigh.

As ever it was strange standing in her boss’s office in just her stocking tops and woollen top and her hands cupped her sex protectively. For a long second she forgot what to do and just all but hopped from one foot to the other.

Then taking a deep breath she turned to the corner and parked herself there, nose to the seam of the wall. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she resisted the temptation to cover bottom with them and instead grasped them in the small of her back.

By some instinct Barrington turned. Seeing that Susan was ready he ran his eye down her exposed curves. Full and pert, he decided and availed himself of a small smile. Well worth the spanking and much deserved, he told himself. Down boy, this is business, he self-chided.

*

Susan felt silly and embarrassed as she stood in the corner like an errant child. She couldn’t decide if it was more humiliating having a man looking at her bare bottom from his desk or ignoring her while he had a business conversation. Besides there was a draft and the goose bumps peppered her thighs and bottom.

Always at the back of her mind was that somebody would come into the outer office and hear something, the cleaners for sure. They might even just walk in to empty the waste basket. Then there was Karen, she might have forgotten something.

To chivvy Mr Barrington along a bit she rocked back and forth a little to emphasis her bottom. Not a thought out or even conscious strategy, just a native instinct of girl with a deep need for a good sound spanking.

Finally the phone call ended and she heard him fiddle with papers and then put something away in a draw. Or maybe get something out, her eyes widened as she remembered what he kept there.

“Miss Hazelmere, come here,” his deep warm voice intoned.

As she turned she saw what she had feared, the foot long Kent suit brush in his hand, which he patted menacingly onto his left palm. Big hands, she gulped inwardly, pity he isn’t going to use them.

Barrington sat in the armless chair on her side of the desk and patted his knee.

Cupping her sex she took a deep breath and reluctantly tottered forward until she was standing next to his thighs. He didn’t wait and pulled her across his lap in one easy motion so that her bare bottom was uppermost and exposed to his gaze.

“You knew the girl needed watching, you told me about it. You were sulking weren’t you, hoping she would make a mistake to prove me wrong?” he said in a dark gruff voice.

It was true and Susan felt her body surrender. “Yes Sir,” she whispered.

Barrington ran the back of the wooden brush over her bare bottom and patted it twice so that heavy slow ripples moved across her skin. Susan gave a little gasp.

“You silly girl,” he chided her and patted her bottom more firmly with the brush.

Then they were off.

The hearty thwack cut through to Karen’s soul leaving a fiery oval pact across both bottom cheeks. She gasped as her eyes started in her head. There was no time to dwell however and the second and third spanks came almost on top of each other.

Even allowing for the occasional pause in the action when Mr Barrington would growl “do you feel that girl,” or “I hope you are learning,” there must have been upwards of 30 spanks in the first minute leaving Susan panting like a dog and her bottom singing like a scolding kettle.

Then came a longer pause while Susan regained her breath and Barrington studied the dull red sheen staining his employee’s bare bottom. He noticed tightly packed gooseflesh where the spanked skin was shocked and even as he watched the reddened area was raised a little to form a gentle pad of raised flesh in two distinct bands.

The burn in her bottom was not enough to overtake her embarrassment and Susan’s face burned almost as steadily as the other end.

“I hope this is a lesson to you girl,” he said sharply, announcing a resumption of the spanking.

Susan managed a strangled “yes Sir,” before she yelped in response to another two minute onslaught.

Maybe a 100 spanks in Susan started to cry. The combination of sting over burn over ache left her convinced she would never sit down again; indeed she was beginning to wonder if he would ever stop spanking her.

“Now, now,” he said in a kindly voice, “It is not as bad as all that is it?”

Between tears Susan sucked down great breaths giving the impression that she was sobbing hard. He was right, it wasn’t that bad. Although her bottom felt tight as if it might burst lava bomb

“No Sir, I am sorry,” she sniffed, “Such as fuss. I don’t mean to be a cry-baby.”

“If you want to cry off, we will call it quits,” he told her, adding in a warning tone, “This time.”

She didn’t like the implication, besides she was never one to give up on a challenge. “No Sir, sorry Sir.”

“Well you have had a break, let’s call that half way, shall we?” he said brightly and resumed the spanking.

Susan yelled and then spent the next two minutes grunting and groaning as her face danced through a series of comic contortions.

When Barrington stopped for his final pause to scold her, the dam finally broke and this time her sobbing was heartfelt.

“There, there, almost done,” he said and gave her the last minute or two of her spanking.

This time her shouts and wails were louder even than the thwack-crack of wood on her bare bottom as the spanking reached its conclusion.

“Lesson learned?” Barrington asked as he put the brush down on his desk.

Susan managed a nod as she sagged into him for a good cry. She almost loved this part. Instead of hating him, she wanted to worship him for his mercy and had a sudden urge to kiss his hand.

“Up you get then,” he chuckled and patted her on the back. “You can go back and stand in the corner while you pull yourself together,” he said.

Susan sniffed and nodded as she obeyed. Her bottom felt like two molten cannonballs and she cupped them as she tried to shake out the burn.

Barrington felt the old trouser snake stiffen as he eyed up the strawberry globes. “No rubbing now,” he told her, “Hands on head.”

Susan obeyed, although she had to do a little shimmy until the sting eased back to barely bearable.

“When you have had time to consider your sins, say in about 20 minutes,” he said, “I want to talk to you about Miss Temple.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan sighed.

To be continued….


Community

03Dec18

otk 12school01school02s-l1600flapper-womanv-n-1devlin 201Christmas is coming and maybe things are slowing down before the rush. So expect a rash of red-bottomed girls in red velvet and fur around the spankoverse.

This week I had a lot of nice comments and a couple of very nice emails. You may notice I have updated some of the links.

I followed a comment on one of the blogs while surfing that said the best paddling scene ever filmed. I think it may have been an old Rig-East video, but it wasn’t clear. Paddle picture above was lifted from short sequence along with another school scene.

Other images are from Ronnie Soul, Grumpy Old, Devlin, AAA and ASA Jones.

Coming up at least one short and In the Service of the Wolf continues.

st andrews day (1)


Vintage Sunday

02Dec18

1vin bath1vin beach1vin OTK1vin outtake1vin sport1vin wall


Real DDThis spanking life is hard and I don’t just mean on bottoms. Being in charge when things go wrong must be like being captain of a ship that has sprung a leak. Hopefully you shouldn’t sink but it is worrying all the same. This is worse for the lady who is looking to you for guidance; sometimes just saying everything will be okay is just not enough.

I love my wife and I work hard at our relationship, but sometimes not hard enough, and sometimes I don’t work smart. I am not usually given to these personal insights but today it seemed so disingenuous just to write something fluffy. Tough week, mostly outside stuff, but it puts a strain on things and shows up the cracks that need mending.

One of those paddle shaped trowel things is good for plastering. I wonder what else they can be used for.

Before I bring everyone down let’s indulge in some good old fashioned schadenfreude and look how other people have handled it.

Circa 1970 Betty J wrote to Forum magazine in a feature called most embarrassing experiences.

“As a teen I was given to tantrums, a habit that carried on into my 20s. When I finally met the man of my dreams, so to speak, I nearly messed everything up with one of my irrational outbursts. Safe to say Geoffrey took no nonsense from me and in the dunes at West Wittering he put me across his knee, lowered my shorts and spanked my bare bottom tomato red until I howled apologies and then some. He warned me then that any nonsense from me, ever, and I would get the same and he didn’t care who knew it.”

“So it was that after we married whenever I created or overspent, certainly if I had a tantrum, Geoffrey would take me in hand and spank my bottom silly and put me in my place. I didn’t particularly like it, but it worked for us and, so I thought, must work for everyone.”

“About seven years into our marriage, now with two kids, I went to the new shopping centre with some girlfriends and in the multi-storey carpark I managed to dent the car. I was about 30 at the time but at home I was still going across Geoffrey’s knee on a regular basis and then I would cry and we would kiss and make up. I had got so used to it by then (as far as anyone ever does) that I happened to blurt out to my friends that ‘when Geoff sees the car I am so not going to able to sit down for the rest of the week.’”

“It all went a bit quiet and then Gillian, a friend from school, asked what did I mean? So realising what I had said I came clean and said, ‘you know, I am so going to get a spanking.’”

“The reactions were initially of shock but then Gillian burst out laughing. I was teased about it for months. I can’t believe that until then I thought all wives got spankings.”

Emily S had another story.

Writing at FemFirst she related this tale:

“I trained as a barrister and as far as I was concerned I was the best. I got cases easily and it never occurred to me that some of my senior colleagues prioritised me for any ulterior motives. Consequently I was never short of a date and if I was too busy to turn up then so what, they would either forgive me or I would get someone else.”

“I didn’t really have time for men and mostly I went out with well-heeled disposable types, boring, but if they picked up the tab I might sleep with them, or not. I was so unhappy.”

“Tom was different. He was a bit nervous and bumbling and although he paid like a gentleman, he didn’t exactly take me to expensive places. But four or five dates in I realised that I was relaxed with him and he made me laugh. Mostly I was relaxed because I absolutely knew it was going nowhere.”

“Then my career started getting strained and I had a nasty run in with a judge which ended with me hauled in before the senior partner for an official warning. Actually it probably wasn’t that big a deal but I wasn’t used to losing or being criticised. Anyway I took it out on Tom by being a bitch to him all night and went as far as to take him home hinting that me might have sex for the first time expressly to shatter his hopes. My attitude was ‘who did he think he was, he was totally out of his league.’”

“Tom took my put down well; he was amused and said ‘tell me something I didn’t know.’ I came back with ‘no you tell me.’ It was really childish, but I was genuinely impressed with his sang froid at this point. He came back with, ‘you are such a brat, if I could be bothered I would take you down a peg.’”

“I responded with the usual ‘big talk’ or ‘you haven’t the balls,’ my best sneer before dumping a bloke was pretty good. We were sitting on a sofa next to each other at this point only a second later I was across his lap getting swats on my bottom. I was totally surprised and after some choice language I began to plead and I even said sorry. He dumped me, literally, on the floor and got up to leave.”

“I was confused and I think for the first time I had got a real reaction from someone so I asked him to stay. I was so miserable about work and my life. He told me to get stuffed until I offered to let him into my knickers. He just said, ‘the only reason I would take you knickers down would be to give you more of the same.’”

“I said something like: if that’s what you want.”

“I was so spanked, and spanked. My bottom was so sore. The sex was amazing and afterwards he spanked me again. I didn’t hear from him for days and for the first time in my life I called him. He told me I was bad news and I promised to behave. He said he would give me a chance but if I gave him a reason I knew what I would get.”

“I gave him many, many reasons, both then and since. Years ago now but my husband Tom still spanks me, I don’t always like it, but serves me right. So in response to CathT above, you are right women need to stand up for themselves against some men, but also be confident enough to surrender. I know some here will be offended by this story, but I am much happier now.”


N Affectueuse_fessée_ecclésiastiqueN AHS nun whippedN bavarian enemaN bavarian monkN collecting the rodN Monk-Nun-Spank-GirlN nun whipped movieN Penitence
The prurient interest in flagellation and the cloistered nuns goes back as far as the Sisters of Vespa in pagan Rome. Medieval engravings depict myriad floggings of nuns, by nuns and not always in the context of suppressed erotica. If the images above are anything to go then nothing much has changed.

Flagellation was thought to be good for the soul and the daughters of Eve particularly susceptible to sin and requiring severe chastisement to drive out the devil.

Whilst the Christian brothers favoured the scourge on the back, the good sisters often resorted to the ‘lesser chastisement’ by application to the ‘naked buttocks,’ as the 19th century Abbess de Chartres of Lyon explained.

It was one of her predecessors who cleaned the mother house by sending the old guard away and inviting the local Father to whip the sinning sisters on their bare bottoms for their sins. A task he felt needed to be repeated after many a confession time and again lest the devil return.

Rumour had it that the zealous young Abbess too asked to be also ‘cleansed’ in private sessions in her chambers, the stuff of fantasies surely, but many stranger things occurred among the cloistered of both sexes.

Anecdotally there is much evidence.

N bavarian Monk2In 1676 French woman, Juliette des Court, was unsuccessfully prosecuted for attempting to corrupt a priest. It seems her confessions were so scandalous, or so the priest said, that he was forced to chastise her. Guided by her confessor she was frequently stripped naked on her knees and made to offer her naked hind end to his rod. She was thrashed vigorously ‘until her flesh was razed and she screamed out for forgiveness.’

The repentant girl returned over and over in attempt to save her soul. It wasn’t until another priest discovered the punishments that the priest was accused of being overzealous and he in turned claimed the girl had seduced ‘him with sin.’

The charges don’t seem to be taken too seriously but Juliette herself ended up in a nunnery, eventually rising to be Abbess.

Whether because of her experience, or despite it, in later life she gained a reputation as a flagellant. It seems she had a penchant for guiding young novices in her order. She defended her actions by stressing that she only permitted ‘scourging of the inferior kind,’ that is whipping the bare bottom, as opposed to on the back as was the wont of monks.

In Prussia and elsewhere it became the custom during the 18th century to employ nuns as governesses. It was thought that ‘high discipline’ and strong religious guidance by means of the rod was good for young women. After all who could accuse a nun of being other than kind and forgiving? Some art from the period perhaps suggests otherwise.

N bavarian nun governess

Even in the 20th century some orders employed the scourge and other means. Certainly many have testified to the terror of the penguins and ‘horror stories’ have emerged as far afield as Ireland and the US.

Candace Truman, later known as Sister Mary, had a strict catholic upbringing in New York.

She later recalled her senior class years. “Some days the good sisters would tackle my bare bottom so enthusiastically with a strap that I could scarce sit down for days. Nor was I alone in my misery. Many a time did a class full of my fellow students line up to feel the same. The shower room usually displayed more bruises than not and right where they would do the most good.”

In England as late as the 1970s Barbara found love and discipline were often conjoined. Encourage to scourge herself she was troubled that it was ineffective and consulted an older woman of the order.

Her friend offered to aid her and twice weekly she was laid face down on her bed naked and ‘lashed on the bottom until I cried lustily.’

“Afterwards I always felt so good,” she wrote.

An affair ensued but after Barbara came out as a lesbian she left both the order and the church. “It turns out that a thoroughly good spanking was all I really needed. As a girl I was so drawn to rules and more so to the dreaded consequences of not obeying them.”




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