Part one here

The padded crossbeam on the frame could have been made for her; it fitted so snuggly to her hips as she lay bottom up and head down over it. She was still marvelling at the speed and ease Galen had picked her up and thrown her across it that she was taken completely unawares as he hooked both her wrists with a springy band that pulled her arms outstretched to the floor. Something too had pinned her ankles so that she could not kick back against him.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled as she struggled against her impromptu capture.

“I am doing whatever I choose and you will do exactly what you are told,” Galen snapped.

“Look, I am sure we can discuss this. There is no way the program could serve up such a two dimensional oaf. There must be a trick to this,” she said in a strained voice. As she spoke she tested her bonds, but as hard as she pulled neither writs nor ankles would break free of her restraints.

The paddle struck her upturned bare bottom with a burning sting nothing like she had felt before and she gasped out a yell.

Mimicking her tone he repeated her words, “I am sure we can discuss this…” he spanked her hard, and added, “my lord.” Then he placed the flat surface against her skin and drew firm heavy circles with it. “As for calling me an oaf…” the paddle struck again and she grunted.

“Okay, I didn’t mean that I just meant… ahh,” the paddle interrupted her.

“I didn’t mean that…” he snarled, “my lord.” The paddle was all pain.

Tzara sucked in air and clamped down her jaw. This was way beyond all usual safety pain filters.

“Please… my lord,” she offered, her words were becoming wet.

“Please what?” Galen said sharply and spanked her again, suggesting “Please spank my bottom,” and again. “Please spank my bottom very hard,” he spanked her yet again, “Please spank my bare bottom, very, very hard perhaps?” The paddle bit down to impart a liquid sting.

Tzara could only yell and the ride the burn by panting like a dog.

“Look, I get it, I am sorry,” she breathed at last, mortified by the tear rolling down the side of her nose.

“Look I get it, I am sorry, my lord,” Galen yelled the last two words as he paddled her harder than he had yet.

“Ahmmmmmm,” Tzara grunted and bucked her hips to the song of pain for several moments. “My lord,” she finally managed in a strained voice.

Galen studied the fulsome curve of her hips and the strawberry red stain that was burned in two ovals on her bottom.

“Who is in charge here?” he asked.

“You are my lord,” Tzara panted, thankful beyond gratitude that he momentarily paused the spanking.

“Whom do you serve?” Galen pressed her.

“You, my lord,” she answered breathlessly, her face flushed with shame.

“How long will you serve me?” Galen asked. This time he lifted the paddle and held it to his chest.

Still panting, Tzara had to think. A hard task when her bottom fizzed like an oven fire. Then she remembered. “Twenty years, my lord,” she gasped.

Galen regarded her sternly, although given her head down elevation she could not see it. “Tell me, do you really wish to petition the manumission court at the next quarter assizes to be released from your indentures?” The paddle was again drawing menacing circles on her bottom so that she had to wince.

For a second Tzara sensed some hope and almost blurted yes. Manumission meant legal freedom. Then she remembered he had said quarterly. He was hinting at possible freedom in three months. The program would pull her out by then. Meanwhile he still held the paddle.

“No Sir,” she said emphatically, “I mean my lord.”

“So you accept the justice of your position?” he asked.

Tzara again sucked in some air and then nodded. “Yes my lord,” she said reluctantly.

“So what is all this insolence about, it was not my desire to punish you so?” Galen sounded genuinely put out.

Tzara tried to pull herself back together. It is a game, she reminded herself. She had a part to play. She swallowed down her pride and resisted the urge to curse him out again. “I am sorry my lord,” she offered. “I am just not used to this yet.”

Galen nodded. This was more like it. There was nothing like an attitude adjustment for a girl. “So your punishment is justified then?” he asked.

The heat surged to her face and she clamped her jaw defiantly. “Yes my lord,” she said grudgingly.

“Alright, up you get,” he said and went to put away the paddle.

Tzara gaped. How, she was restrained. But as she relaxed and stopped straining her bonds she realised that the cuffs were loose. She almost swore aloud at her stupidity and his deception. Then suffering a renewed blush she wriggled free and got unsteadily to her feet.

“You can spend the night on the rail,” Galen said casually and indicated on of the beams.

Tzara opened her mouth to protest and then swivelled her gaze to the frame. She was not entirely sure what he intended for her. It didn’t look too bad and at least he hadn’t pointed out the beam with the pins on it. She was still trying to fathom the situation when he seized her arms behind her and manacled her hands.

“Hey,” she blurted. She wheeled to face him only to be confronted by his hard warning stare. “I mean… my lord, you don’t need to…”

Without warning he grabbed her under the arms and then without effort he lifted her out the bean so that she was straddling it. There were two foot holds that allowed her to stand and lift herself off the sharp edge of the beam, which otherwise was uncomfortable pressed against her sex and the underside of her sore spanked bottom. By standing fully on tip toes she could relieve this pressure, but that strained her already sore thighs and bottom.

“I don’t understand my lord,” she said quizzically.

“Good night,” he replied and then reducing the lights he turned to go.

Tzara was confused. This was silly. But standing on tiptoes was worse than the discomfort of sitting astride the beam so she relaxed. It wasn’t exactly comfortable and the edge of the beam pressed into her.

“Well this is embarrassing,” she said to the empty chamber. At least, she thought, she finally had time to think.


At first it hadn’t been so bad. The discomfort of sitting on hard ridge pressing into her intimate places persisted, but it only actually hurt a little. It was also disconcertingly arousing, like riding or… the thought made things worse and was distracting. By standing on tiptoes she instantly relived the ache and transferred the strain to her thighs and calves. Oh I get it, she smiled. I am not going to sleep to easily like this. By morning I will be exhausted. Well it gives me time to think, she reminded herself. “Is really the worst you can do?” She asked the absent Galen.

It was dark, but not completely. As her eyes adjusted she could see the other equipment and realised that he really could have made her suffer more. The crucifixes had narrower sharper protrusions, she noticed. No one needed to be nailed but being hung by your arms with that pressing into your intimates… well it would be worse than the rail.

She thought about the paddle-spanking and blushed. She had backed down and her bottom would be sore for days to remind her of that.

Finally she had to sit back down on the ridge to ease her legs and the edge of the wood pressing into was worse than she remembered. Looking down she saw that the ledge she was standing on could be lowered or raised; to fit different women? It could also remove all hope of relief. She swallowed. She decided to let her weight settle and see how bad it could get. Maybe next time that will be my only option. She gaped to herself. Next time, what was she thinking? Then all too soon she had to stand again.

Okay, this is not so bad, she told herself, but she was beginning to panic. ‘Good night’ he had said. What time was it? It had still been daylight before they came to the chamber. The spanking had lasted less than an hour?

“Please, is there anyone there?” she called. She hated how feeble she sounded and that her cry had been involuntary.

No one answered. She sat back down and groaned. It was getting worse, she gritted her teeth; understatement. It was beginning to hurt. She began to pant.

“Is there anyone there?” she yelled and pushed her sex and perineum off the cutting wood to stand on tiptoe again. “Please help.”

To be continued…




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Some time ago Cherry Red was taken suddenly very ill. I have no idea how Cherry is faring, but I am sad to report that the site has now been taken down. Perhaps the end of an era.

Much new spanking activity has moved to Twitter it seems. As an addition this is welcome and much more about personal interaction. It also affords more action and candid shots. Whilst these can be very revealing. A very intimate spanking of a sorority girl was circulated some months back, or so I was told. It wasn’t up long. No doubt someone sobered up. The retweets and screen captures may surface somewhere, who knows? That is the point, with its soundbite approach it does however limit creativity. You are either there or you aren’t.

A few years ago the BBC approached me (yes that shook me at the time). They were trying to get some inside gen on the spanking scene, but in the age of social media were finding it hard to pin anyone down. Apparently A Voice in the Corner was reasonably highly positioned on Google. I had a nice chat on the phone with a vanilla researcher, who seemed to get it, but I had to point out that I was hardly a spokesman for the scene. But I think then that this was an early indicator of where things might be heading.

They didn’t use me in the end. Much to the researchers disappointment, they ‘went in another direction.’ As I recall they went down the ’50 Shades, dysfunctional weirdo route.’

Anyway, on with this show. Ronnie Soul has a list of new spanking sites.

Also the Spanking Blog has some stills from Starlet. A vanilla move from the early 1970s that sometimes used to surface on late night TV in the UK. It is not a great movie, it is a kind of sexploitation expose of the porn industry (oh the irony). But it has one whipping scene (pictured above) and a better, much more traditional OTK spanking-the-bratty-starlet scene. It has to have been the first bare bottom spanking I had seen in a mainstream movie. It is worth a glance but is no Secretary.

Contemporary Life has several images, I swiped a few above.

Others from BDSMLR, Devlin and Real Spankings.


Vintage Sunday


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Part one here

At one point Galen pulled her up by her hair so he could see her face. “Am I getting through to you?” he snarled.

A woeful Tzara tried to catch her breath to speak and he spanked her already tender red bottom again so that she yelped.

“Yes sir,” she gasped.

“My lord, you will address me as my lord,” Galen told her sharply, “I am going to teach you manners if it takes 20 years to do it.”

“Yes Sir, I mean, yes my lord,” she quickly amended.

Three months of this, Tzara thought miserably, there must be some way to override the program.

“Better,” Galen sighed. “What kind of courtesan are you? Haven’t you been trained at all?”

Tzara sniffed, not knowing what to say. “I am not a courtesan, that was a mistake,” she pleaded.

“I am beginning to agree,” Galen rolled his eyes. For the next few minutes he added another round of sound spanking so that his new girl twisted and danced across his lap and then he let her stand. “Now you will go and stand in the corner until I have decided what to do with you,” he told with a heavy sigh.

Tzara looked in horror at the hard bare stone walls where he had pointed. This was an outrage. She was an officer of the fleet. She was a senior lieutenant with 12 years’ service to her name.

“Are you going to be defiant again?” Galen said in disbelief.

“Look, you don’t understand, I don’t want this, I am certainly not going to stand in any corner like a…” she told him angrily. “Like a child.”

Before she had been taken by surprise, no she was ready with a drop kick to his groin and an elbow slice to his neck. Even if she couldn’t break the scenario, she could easily go on the run and live off her wits for three months. Well not easily, she thought as she weighed up her options. Maybe she could turn the whole thing into an adventure game and do some hiking, or maybe become a bandit.

Galen looked amused and continued to shake his head in disbelief. The girl may have not been trained, but he had. Reaching for the bell he decided sterner measures were called for.

Tzara saw him tug the bell pull and wondered if he were summoning some guards. She had to act.

The drop kick failed. It was almost as if she had never learned one. Instead she fell heavily to the floor on her behind, which hurt far beyond any holo-suite injury she had ever experienced before.

“You have earned yourself a serious punishment already, don’t make it worse,” Galen let out a slow breath. “Just go and stand in the corner like a good girl before I lose my temper.”

Tzara drew her mouth into a determined line and got her feet. She hated giving him the satisfaction of rubbing her bottom, but just then the relief was needful. “You are not getting this are you?” she said in a tone that she always reserved for subordinates.

She lunged at Galen and tried to take him off his feet. It was like hitting a mountain and without breaking a sweat he turned her around and tucked her under his arm as if she were luggage.

“Get off me you… you…” she cursed.

Galen sighed and again took his seat on the chair. It was an easy matter to put the girl back across his knee and turn up her skirts.

“No, n-no, no,” she gasped.

His hand blasted her bare bottom like an oaken paddle. The searing sting took away her breath and despite her resolve she was yelling again in less than a minute. The first spanking had been bad, now she was going to learn what a spanking could be.

She did not hear the maid arrive and once she realised they had an audience she wanted to die. “This isn’t happening,” she yelled.

“Ah Maria, I am having some issues here with this one. Can you fetch me a paddle, a stout wooden one, a cubits length should suffice,” he told the girl casually.

Tzara was mortified and renewed her efforts to break the man’s grip.

“Yes my lord,” the maid executed a curtsey.

“Then make the upper dungeon chamber ready for use. Tonight it will have a guest,” Galen continued.

The girl cocked an eyebrow and looked the spanked woman over with a renewed interest. Who would defy Lord Galen? Indeed, who would want to, she wondered? Then she shrugged and scurried to obey. Maybe her lord would put her to use this night if the courtesan was in disgrace.

“Now where were?” Galen redirected his attention to Tzara.

“Look you don’t have to do this,” Tzara protested.

Galen spanked her hard so that she gasped. “Oh I think I do,” he grinned.


By the time the maid returned with the paddle Tzara was finally standing in the corner with her hands on her head. This time she resisted the urge to protest and stood fuming with her face just centimetres from two walls, her face almost as red as her exposed bottom.

“Thank you,” Galen said as he took the paddle from the maid. “Is the dungeon ready?”

“It will be my lord,” Maria said and curtsied.

Galen gave her a curt nod and tuned back to his new courtesan. “Are you ready to obey yet?”

Tzara made a pout where he could not see it and squirmed as she clenced and unclenched her buttocks to try and ease the sting.

“Are you still going to be insolent?” Galen asked her.

“No,” Tzara said in what she hoped was a neutral tone.

Galen thought she sounded somewhat sullen. He sighed.

Tzara, sensing his displeasure, began a moment of panic. “No my lord,” she said quickly, wishing she had remembered. He is the captain here, she told herself, lord equals sir; he rates a sir. A simple lesson, she chided herself, but one she had now learned.

“Better, but it won’t save you tail,” Galen chuckled.

Tzara’s eyes flew wide open and she fought to keep calm. What had she done? “Please my lord, I am sorry,” she pleaded.

“Good,” Galen said in a softer tone, “That is a start anyway. But you have to be punished.”

“But…” she began, I have been punished, she thought, “Please my Lord,” she tried not to sound whiney.

“You were rude and insolent and you must be punished,” Galen said as if explaining the obvious. Of course she had to be. “Show that you can take it like a good girl and I might go easy on you.”

Tzara gulped. There had been talk of a dungeon. She knew that during the Middle Ages in Earth’s Europe dungeons could be torture chambers. I can’t be harmed, she reminded herself. But she was already learning that the pain protocols were way too relaxed in this scenario, to say the least. Also so far there was no off button or exit procedure. “Yes my lord,” she said, trying to sound agreeable. It was a humiliating concession under the circumstances.

“Alright, come with me,” Galen said.

Tzara turned and finally lowered her arms so that her hands could massage her hot welty bottom.

“Oh, you take that gown off and leave it here,” he remembered. “The maid will take it to your room later; that is if I allow you one.”

Tzara made to protest but his face brooked no argument.

Once she had removed the dress he told her to leave on the corset, as the tight undergarment was called. She doubted she could have removed it without help anyway. The ridiculous attire was black and stiffened with what might have been steel as part of the fabric. It more or less supported her breasts, but from her hips down she was naked back and front. The corset only emphasised her lower nudity and she felt a rush of self-consciousness before this man.

Galen smiled in approval and hefted the paddle menacingly.

“Where are we going my lord?” she asked in as normal a tone as she could muster. Despite everything the man was strangely attractive and she wondered if now that she had ceased being confrontational they might move on to the sex part. After all, this was supposed to be recreational with her needs in mind.

Galen gave her a warning look and said nothing as he led her from the room.

Memo to self, she cursed inwardly: next time, read the small print and do the settings manually.

The walk down the hall was unsettling. For one thing she was acutely aware that not only was her bare bottom on display, but it had been clearly very soundly spanked. It was embarrassing. She thought about hiding her sex with her hands, but that seemed more undignified than toughing it out. Hey-ho, she thought, I just have to play the game.

She tried to relax for the moment and take in her surroundings. Knowing her way around might come in handy. Still it was hard to feel at ease when half naked in a strange place. She tried to focus.

The castle was clean and airy. Fabulous tapestries hung at pleasing intervals along the walls and there was even carpet on much of the floor. This was a story book version of a castle, she realised, a fantasy. What did that tell her? A hand strayed to her sore bottom as she wondered what kind of fantasy this was. The small act reminded her of her nakedness and she blushed.

Luckily they encountered no one in the halls or on the stairs. Although Tzara did hear voices beyond the great wooden and ornate doors that they passed. But Galen led her on down various winding staircases where instead of windows, flaming torches lit the way. It was almost romantic.

The last door was a heavy one. It was made of dark wood and iron, with great spikes protruding at out of brace work. The upper dungeon, she presumed.

Galen unlatched the swung the great door wide as he led her forward. Although Tzara hung back and wondered if she could run for it. Her tummy tingled like it did just before a test or a hyper jump.

“This way,” Galen commanded.

Tzara swallowed and braced herself. Keep your wits girl, she chivvied and reluctantly followed the man inside.

The room was not as dingy as she had expected. It had high vaulted ceilings of dark grey stone, but the edging to the vault supports and upright columns was cut from yellow-white sandstone, or something like it. There were cages to the back, some of which were suspended from the ceiling and looked barely large enough to hold a large bird, let alone a person.

Along the walls were manacles and chains, which were set next to hooks hung with whips, great paddles and items the use of which Tzara could only guess.

That was not all.

There was a great wooden diagonal cross that held restraints and upright crosses that clearly prisoners could be suspended from. There were also trestles and benches, the purposes of which were obvious even to Tzara. She shot a nervous glance at the paddle Galen had brought. She prayed to the stars that he did not intend that she bend over one of those.

Oddly there were too a few rows of wooden rails, some set diagonally so that the sharp edge was uppermost, and some of which tapered from a wide base and looked like elongated saddles. One of these had small spikes along sides near the top, but these were more like pins, she thought. Nothing here was intended for serious torture, not that she could see. It was all a teleplay version of a dungeon.

“Now this is where you will spend the night,” Galen told her. “Be a good girl and it won’t be too bad. But first you must kiss the paddle and bend over the padded medium trestle for one last spanking. Then all will be forgiven.”

Tzara glowered at him and worked her throat. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. This was too much. The heat rose to her face. If he was going to beat her then there was nothing she could do about it. But she wasn’t going to just surrender to it and cooperate.

“Please, don’t do this,” she said quietly.

Ignoring her social faux pas Galen extended the paddle. “Kneel,” he said.

Tzara shook her head. I won’t do it she thought.

Galen sighed heavily and closed his eyes in frustration. “Kneel,” he repeated sharply.

“No,” Tzara replied. Her tone spoke of resolve.

To be continued.

Holodeck Hell


The star cruiser was a long, long way from home. There were 237 souls traversing the void on the outer edge of space and they didn’t even have the satisfaction of knowing they could discover new life or territories. Their biggest enemy was boredom. They had been forbidden by High Command to even go within hailing distance of the neutral zone. Instead they had to navigate to preordained, usually secret, coordinates and complete a scan. After 18 months watching for breaches of Terran space, many of the crew had had enough. Lieutenant Tzara Tzang, for one, hated it. In her opinion there were far better uses her considerable talents could be put to.

At 36 Tzara was a capable, if sometimes overly officious officer. But with almost 12 years’ experience she had yet to reach the rank of sub-commander and had been reduced to playing second string to the navigation officer. Not that there was anything to navigate, an ensign could run the nav-station on factory settings.

Nor was Tzara particularly liked on board the Dunderhead, not least perhaps because her fiery temper matched her flame red hair. On duty she would chew out subordinates where others would resort to diplomacy and off duty she would don figure hugging jump suits to show just what she her crewmates could never have. Not that she was a tease as such; it was just that most of her crew did not measure up. As a result she spent most of her downtime in the holodeck, trading her spot on the duty roster during club-night and parties for extra holo-suite time.

The so-called holodeck was a VR facility that allowed various locations or scenarios to be played out for relaxation or physical interactions. Most used it to recreate a favourite restaurant or the beach, although no doubt the sexual protocols were popular too. That was the thing about the facility. It was strictly private and no one would or could interfere with another crew member’s usage.

This suited Tzara, not least because before her tour of duty she had purchased an illegal modification on the black market. One that allowed her to cheat the time limits on facilities usage. So far she had only used its standard settings, and its one key feature of temporal manipulation. But after 18 months she was ready to try something new.

Most of the crew were restricted to two hours in VR on days when they had duty, which in most cases was on most days. As Second Navigation Officer, Tzara was strictly forbidden exceptions to this regulation, which was a serious impediment to her VR time. For one thing, one of her hobbies was free climbing and most challenges needed hours, if not days to pursue. That was where her tricky little black market mod came in handy.

What most people did not realise was that time in VR was subjective. If one knew how, once locked in the suite the temporal settings could be adjusted to make two hours last two days or even two weeks subjective time. With her illegal mod it was time enough for Tzara to enjoy a long weekend every shift, climbing the Swiss Alps, a quick bit of skiing, an evening of apres ski and sometimes dangerously modified tryst with a VR ski instructor.

After a double shift, she should by rights hit her bunk, but there would be time enough to sleep later. She had just come off the graveyard shift and no one would swing by until she was well on her way to bed in… she checked her PT, 117 minutes. The cold blue light made the red panel lights purple, giving the corridor to the VR a surreal festival feel. Suckers, she thought, as she uploaded her latest mod.

The transition was as disorientating as ever and it took a moment.

Then she was in the room. The room was in a castle somewhere, Ancient Switzerland she guessed. The walls were of stone and the high window made it bright and cheerful with a breath-taking view of the mountains beyond. In time she would incorporate some climbs, but for now she still had to shake out the bugs.

“You came,” the smooth baritone voice greeted her.

Tzara turned to face Galen, a near two-meter tall hero of her scenario. It suddenly struck her that he had more than a passing resemblance to the captain, although Galen had jet black hair in contrast to her senior’s dirty blond. He was much taller too and the rendition of this man had firmer square-jawed features, although he did have the same authoritative piercing blue eyes. She wondered why, and indeed how, the program had incorporated this particular feature from her real life.

Then Galen frowned. “I was addressing you,” he said sharply. He even sounded like the captain.

“Sorry, yes, hello Galen,” Tzara said more pleasantly than she had ever spoken to this man’s counterpart.

“I don’t entirely understand,” Galen began, “But I gather we are to discuss the duration of your stay, your exact status here and which…” he frowned again and shook his head.

“Please go on,” Tzara told him. Normally a set-up routine would run smoothly no matter how anachronistically, but she knew that this VR mod had Tyson tech in it and had several layers of complexity beyond a normal such program. She knew it had something to do with advanced SI protocols and…

Galen shrugged and became amused. “Ah… as I understand it, we are to discuss which laws we are going to… pass? How is that possible? The law is the law, surely?”

“Please don’t let it trouble you, you will forget…” she coughed and decided on another tack, “Please just indulge me. Think of me as a stupid female and I just want to go over the laws and what is expected.”

While he pondered this Tzara took the time to notice her clothing. A ridiculous gown of heavy blue silk, she adjudged, with some kind of restrictive harness or stiff tight underwear closely cinching her between hips and breast with very little else. She was quite sure what the program was drawing on. She had selected a medieval pre-set and merely deleted the wars, social instability and most other negatives and replaced them with a random selection of pre-resolved add-ons from a list. It didn’t matter at the time, she would edit the core later and merely delete the options that didn’t work for her. She was still wondering whether the dress was authentic to the original historic period or a product of ‘fantasy world’ or ‘adult fun,’ two of the options she could remember randomly choosing.

Then Galen began talking. “Apparently days will be years,” he ventured as if wondering if the message he was required to pass on was a riddle. Then seeing no reaction or surprise from Tzara he continued. “Are you a noblewoman, artisan, courtesan or peasant?”

“I understand so far, except the bit about courtesan. I may need to look that up,” she said thoughtfully.

“As for the laws… do you consider them: natural, socially adjusted, a fantasy variant or…” he looked aghast, “Child rated?” His dismay continued and he made gestures of exasperation with his arms. “What is this?”

“Eh, which status would let me go to the bar and get some climbing in? Oh and maybe pursue some male contact?” Tzara asked.

“You intend to become a courtesan? But why would a courtesan go climbing? Climbing what?”

“Never mind,” she dismissed him. “I don’t think I want natural, historical accuracy is not my thing. Socially adjusted sounds like political bullshit to me, we will skip the kiddie blocks, so what is a fantasy variant?”

“Sweet, light or dark,” Galen told her, an involuntary act on his part and he became angry at having to blurt out such strange words.

“Oh, I may have to rethink for next time… but here goes, eh… one week, courtesan and eh… ah… sweet, no,” she shook her head in disgust, “Light, dark?” The safety protocols were in place, she remembered. “Dark, maybe? Yes.” Tzara thought, what the hell, I’ll change it later if it doesn’t work.

“So you are my new courtesan,” Galen said as if all that had gone before had been forgotten.

“Yes, it seems so,” Tzara smiled. “Here for the week,” she added brightly, “Where is the nearest pub?”

Galen fixed her with a stern glare and folded his arms. “No girl of mine is going near a tavern, and your indentures say you will serve me for 20 years, what is this week you are blathering about? Are you trying to be insolent?

Tzara felt a surge of unease. She wished she had opened up an exact dialogue box for the settings. She had 117 minutes, she would get pulled automatically the week up or no, it should just about match. Then she wondered… she had said a week… was that objective time? Days will be years… oh god, three years to a day… six weeks to an hour was it…? Shit.

“Just a minute, I just want a week subjective time… maybe next visit… Galen pause the program, reset…” she said hurriedly.

“What are you talking about girl? It is too late to change your mind now. Your father signed the papers. For the next 20 years I will own you,” Galen sounded angry.

“Program reset,” Tzara said in an authoritative voice and clapped her hands together three times as some protocols required.

“Girl, you are testing my patience,” Galen scolded.

“You don’t understand, I don’t want to be here for… three months is it? I just need to reset…” Tzara went to the door as if it might trigger the exit.

“What is this nonsense?” Galen thundered, then taking three strides he caught up with Tzara and pulled her back into the room by the arm. “Enough.”

The man was strong and suddenly all her training and physical prowess seemed clumsy next to him. There was something else too, she suddenly felt like a kid caught with her hand in a cookie jar, almost as if his anger was completely justified.

“Look, when I said a week, I meant subjective time, not ship time,” she gushed as if explaining something to some stupid shop girl.

Galen sighed. “A week?” He shook his head.

“Yes,” Tzara agreed hopefully.

“You ungrateful girl,” he barked and without warning he sat on a nearby chair and upended her over his lap. In a trice he had turned up her skirts so that her legs and bottom were now completely bare. Tzara instantly regretted the lack of underwear. “You owe me 20 years’ service,” he told her firmly.

“Listen you stupid man, the program will end automatically in three months your time anyway, whatever I agree to here…” she began.

Her words were choked off as his hand came biting down to sting her bare bottom.

“You young lady are about to get a good sound spanking,” he told her and spanked her again to extract a sharp gasp.

Tzara’s eyes were wide with shock and she tried to fathom where in an alien modification this scenario had come from, but for the moment Galen was real and she was about to get the spanking of her life.

“Oh God no, cancel program, cancel program, ooh,” she wailed as the spanking proper began.

For the next 15 minutes she was left kicking and struggling while Galen spanked her bare bottom to an ever deeper shade of red. She had felt pain before, but this was different. The sting was intimate and in short order she boo-hooing like a comedy dame and then bawling like a kid.

“Please, I’m sorry, so sorry,” she wailed, the spanking hurt and she was actually crying.

“No, no my girl, sorry lies a long way in your future, we are far from done. Sorry is what you are going to be,” Galen told her, his powerful arm belabouring her at an unrelenting an unnatural pace.

I can’t be harmed, I can’t be harmed, she desperately repeated in her head and then aloud she wailed, “Oh it hurts,” and began another round of futile struggles.

To be continued.

wolf30Part I here

Stacy drew her mouth into a pout to form frog lips which she then let go with a pop. This time the sound was muffled by the corner of the room which was pressed up against her face. Her still bared bottom felt like two tight spheres flame roasted by a torch gun and it was all she could do not to either rub or cry.

Well this is new, she thought ruefully, she could not remember ever feeling quite so embarrassed, not even when Augusta had been spanking her. Soundly spanked and sent to the corner like a little girl, her mind whirled. She was a published author for God’s sake. Nonetheless, she did not dare voice a protest of move her nose from the wall.

Garrick hadn’t left but, was now sitting patiently on the bed behind her to allow her to ponder their confrontation, her part in it and the bottom-seared reality that she had been well and truly put in her place.

No, Stacy didn’t dare move; the man had been quite clear about that. However, strangely enough she felt an unfamiliar cosy feeling that wrapped around her humiliation like an oyster did around grit. She hadn’t felt anything like it since childhood and wondered if this was what having a father would have been like. At least the spanking had cleared the air and had given her something else to focus on. She would have hated to have admitted it, but she felt better, like a load had been lifted.

“Are you ready to talk now?” Garrick said at last.

“Yes Sir,” Stacy mumbled, a fresh surge of blood heating her face. “Can I…” she licked her lips and sniffed nervously, “Can I pull my panties up now?”

“No,” Garrick said sharply, “I am not at all sure we are done.”

Stacy bit her lip and wished she could merge with the wall.

“Now come and sit down,” the old man sighed.

Stacy cupped her hands to her naked sex and shyly turned around. She felt about 12 just then. “I think I would rather stand, if it is all the same to you,” she said quietly.

“Sit down,” Garrick ordered.

Stacy dropped heavily onto the bed and then immediately regretted it as her face broke into a grimace and she half stood up again.

“Tell me about your father,” Garrick said, ignoring her discomfort.


Alice was taking a shower when there was a knock at the door.

“Just a minute,” she yelled, but by the time she had grabbed a towel and stepped into the room she saw her visitors were already inside. The towel was painfully short and she tugged it down at the same time she hugged it to her breasts.

Adam was sitting on the bed fixing her with a glare. His jaw was set tight and he had eyes like flint. John had opted to stand and although his expression was softer, he was not smiling. “Hello Alice,” he said.

“What the hell? Get out of my room,” she snapped angrily and with more conviction than she felt.

“We have to talk to you and you are going to listen” John sighed.

Adam shook his head and offered his brother a withering look. “I told you we should just have sent some women to drag her to the barn,” he said.

Alice felt a surge of panic and looked at John for some sympathy.

He frowned. “We can let her get dressed and give her a chance to explain,” he said.

“To explain what?” she snarled and pulled the towel more tightly around her.

“”So let her explain,” Adam sounded bored, “It is not like we haven’t seen it before.”

John screwed his face up at his brother’s lack of tact and reached for the robe hanging on the back of the door and handed it to Alice.

“What is this all about?” Alice said impatiently once she had pulled on the towel robe.

“Adam, how is Marsha? John, did anyone else get hurt?” Adam said in a brittle voice as he mocked her.

Alice opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again. None of that was her fault. The hunters attacked, but for the first time she felt a pang of guilt all the same.

“Alice, people have been killed. Some of our people were hurt,” John said his voice mostly sad.

“I didn’t…” Alice began.

“You ran, you caused a distraction;” John snarled, “My Dad was almost killed going after you when he should have been focussed on the attack.”

Alice coloured and looked at her feet. “I was scared,” she whispered and could have cursed her soul for sounding so lame.

Adam didn’t meet her eyes. He knew full well that he and John had both deserted their post to go after her. Maybe…

“I’m sorry,” Alice mumbled and slumped into a chair.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” John said in a tone sharper than he had ever used with her before. “You will be even sorrier when I am done with you.”

“W-when…? What are y-you…?” Alice responded nervously, her eyes flashing in something between fear and another emotion.

John slipped out of his jacket and tossed it on the bed. Then he folded his arms and fixed her with a firm gaze. “I am going to turn you over my knee and spank you silly until you can’t sit down for a week,” he said in a determined voice.

Alice’s heart lurched and she felt an unfamiliar head rush. She even looked at Adam for help.

The older twin just grinned. “Oh don’t worry; after he is through, you are going across my knee too.”

Alice opened her mouth and shook her head. “Look if you think…”

“Jared suggested a bull whip, but Garrick thought a good stropping in the woodshed would suffice,” Adam told her. “I don’t think Augusta planned on being quite so sentimental. She likes you, which means she would quite happily deny you sitting rights for a month or two; and the chores…. Whew-whee!”

“You wouldn’t,” Alice wailed, “I mean it wasn’t my idea to come here…”

“Should we have left you to the hunters that night then?” John asked, but he was already advancing.

Alice stood up and backed away. She made a gesture of protests and began to babble. “This is a sex thing isn’t it? Well I don’t consent, in fact…”

“No, this isn’t a sex thing,” John sighed, “You city folks are so predictable. This is an old fashioned over-the-knee very sound bare bottom spanking thing.”

“But…” Alice squeaked.

She might have said more but John had already seized her and tucked her under one arm. Then without breaking his stride swung her around and dropped to sitting on her bed next to Adam. Like a rag doll Alice was tumbled face down across his lap and rapidly bared.

“J-John, please, John… I-I’m sorry… I…” Alice felt helpless and then the first spank landed and she yelped.

The insistent sting burned at her bottom for a moment and she remembered last time. She wanted to protest, but they were right, people had gotten hurt and she was getting off with a spanking. She blushed at the thought, revelling shamefully in its hidden meaning. The next spank made her gasp.

“Hey,” she gasped, and forgetting her previous resolve and added “This is… you can’t do this…”

“You think not?” John said sharply and volley spanked her so hard that she twisted and bucked on his lap until her bare bottom was cherry red.

“Please John, please,” she wailed tearfully. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Adam put in, “By the time we are done with you, you won’t sit down for a month. Embarrassing would be taking you outside and letting everyone watch.”

Alice gaped and rolled her eyes like a wild pony. “You wouldn’t dare you bastards,” she blurted, before she remembered who she was dealing with. Flushed and panting she quickly took back her outburst babbling, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Didn’t mean what? That we are bastards or that we wouldn’t dare?” John grinned evilly, “Maybe we should take this outside at that.”

“Please, please don’t, I’m sorry,” Alice pleaded.

“Does that mean you will take your spanking like a good girl?” John said menacing her naked bottom with a claw-like hand.

“Spankings,” Adam amended thoughtfully, almost as if he was considering a minor domestic chore.

Alice lay helpless across John’s lap and blushed furiously. She considered her options. She was going to get a spanking and there was nothing she could do about it. It was going to hurt and just like last time. At the very least she was going to cry and be one hell of a sorry girl long before they were done with her. If she could look herself in the eye she would probably conclude that she had it coming. For second she focussed on the not unpleasant pressure of John’s thighs under hers. The she swallowed hard.

“I am sorry, I guess I do have it coming,” she admitted, “Please don’t take me outside like this.”

John made a face of apparent reluctance. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think a good sound spanking in front of everyone will do her good,” he said as if to Adam.

Alice felt her nerves jangle and fought down the sudden panic of imminent social humiliation. “I’ll be good, please,” she wailed.

“Such a change of attitude,” Adam said cheerily, “I think she is actually learning a lesson.”

“I am please,” Alice pleaded.

“So a nice long hard spanking and some humbling corner time is called for,” John teased her.

Alice lay panting as her face burned with shame.

“Two nice long spankings and a time out,” Adam amended, “Agreed.”

Alice chewed her lower lip and gave a small nod.

“I didn’t hear you,” John said sharply.

“I agree to getting a spanking,” she whimpered. Her tummy tightened and something thrilled inside her as she surrendered. The contact her lower body had with John’s lap was suddenly very uppermost in her mind.

“That’s a good girl,” John said and began spanking her again.

“Oh my God,” Alice yelped and tried to suck down air. This hurt and she had a feeling that it was only just beginning.

To be continued…



FHS navy girl15264_0083156789ua4bdsmlr-109215-xQffBJWmDDbdsmlr-335474-NNkQOrbOsh-ogbook-shop-cornerCLS-281-003-630x350halfwayhousehoe1thumbnail_IMG_9198vin -bottoms-for-spanking-800whitney_hairbrush_spankingwhitney_vdd_12I have been thinking about revamps and upgrades for A Voice in the Corner. It has been almost 10 years now with the same look. However I do like the clean lines and the design is no longer available so not many people use this template anymore. There is no point in changing for change sake unless I find a better design.

I might change the bookshop picture, see above. I am not sure if I will sell anymore books that way.

On the subject of selling books, I have had a few negative reviews lately and I have been accused of conning people. The reason being given is that because I have given away stories freely here, I should not also be able to sell them to people who want to support this project or who do not like reading spanking blogs. It hardly seems a fair to me. You can still get most of my stories from Amazon for free, if you are a Prime member so it seems like a hollow criticism. There are some stories that either have never been published elsewhere or are no longer available on here for various reasons; these include: The Russell Corner, The Exit Bureau (which have never been available except in book form) and Magic, to name a few just off the top of my head. If you do buy or borrow my books from Amazon, it would help support this blog and my writing to leave four (or perhaps even five) stars.

Also it is worth mentioning that if you are going to buy them, getting them directly from the publisher LSF increases the revenue that they and I receive.

In any case most of my stories, articles will continue to be available here and thank you for reading them and your kind comments. With almost 18 million page views, occasionally I must be doing something right.

Before I move on from discussing this blog, a quick thanks to Pang who busted the comment box with her novella. Seriously thanks, I might post your comment as a Reality Bites sometimes. In summary she said that growing up in Singapore spanking and caning was routine right through high school and college and a girl who broke the rules at home, college or even sometimes at work, was a girl who could expect not to be sitting down for a few days. “Really no fun unless somebody else was getting it.”

She added, “Really difficult to understand why something so horrible is so fascinating. It is only sexy thinking about it a long time afterwards. At the time and before there is just nasty churning in stomach. I really hated it.”

Thank you Pang and sorry the comments facility did not work for you.

I have added a couple of new links, including one to the English Headmaster and Spanking Brats.

Elsewhere I noticed Richard Windsor had an article about Natalie Wood and Hollywood spanking.

Other pictures are from: AAA, Spanking Blog, Spanking Blogg, Dallas, FHS, and Real Spankings.

Vintage Sunday


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wolf29Part I here

Garrick and Stacy stood facing one another by her bed. The old rancher was not tall, but he was near head shoulders taller than the diminutive writer and she had to lift her chin to eyeball him.

“I am not a kid, I am not one of your minions and I am certainly not…” Stacy didn’t finish on the W word, adding instead, “…what you think I am.”

Garrick’s nostrils flared and the old drew up on generations of frontier spirit and bestial nobility. For a moment he felt the wolf stir within but then he remembered another defiant brat from years before and he touched base with his humanity.  “Young lady I have had just about enough of your arrogant denials. You came looking for answers, even if you didn’t know it. It is hardly me and mine’s fault if you don’t like what you found,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Stacy snarled.

Garrick winced. “I have also had enough of your cursing. In my day men scarcely spoke that way to one another, let alone a woman. Let alone a spoiled arrogant young city girl like you speaking to me like that. We took you in, we protected you…” He steered his words like a plough in a gale lest he lose his temper.

“Double fuck you,” Stacy spat in her suddenly broad New Yorker accent; two inelegant fingers on each hand directed at the ceiling.

Garrick took a deep breath and looked at the floor for some inspiration. Then levelling his gaze he gave her a look that could curdle cream. “You ungrateful brat, I ought to take you out the barn and leather your bare bottom with my belt where everyone can watch. Then I ought to take two or three switches to what will by then be the sorest bare bottom in Montana. If’en you have any backside left after that I ought to turn you over to Augusta for latrine chores for a month with instructions to paddle your hind end if you so much as looked at anyone decent,” his words were calm and given in casual warning.

Stacy was about to go for another FU with a flourish, but she literally swallowed it. She remembered Marsha. Instead she gasped, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh I think you know I would,” Garrick snorted derisively. As he spoke he unhooked the buttons on his right sleeve and began rolling up the arm of his shirt. “But I think I’ll take another tack first.”

Stacy remembered her encounter with Augusta and took half a step backwards. “Wait a minute, if you think you are going to…” she blustered.

Garrick picked her up like a doll and dropped to sitting on the bed. Stacy flipped over his lap easily, her small pert bottom lost in the ill-fitting jeans Augusta had picked out for her.

“Mr Stone, what the f…” she yelped.

The old man did not stand on ceremony, but hooked two fingers in the loose band of her pants and tugged them down with regard to zipper or button. The girl wore no panties, hers having been reduced to rags by her earlier transformation. She was now helplessly exposed across his knee, her bare bottom a city-white tight split sphere, prominently pert atop her slender legs.

Garrick was unmoved by the now half-naked brat, he had a duty to do.

“What the hell are you doing?” Stacy gasped and futilely kicked her legs.

Garrick showed her with a sudden and sharp smack to her bare bottom that made her gasp. For a second she had no breath to speak and then he spanked her again. Her bottom was seized by an all over tang that sang on her flesh as she tried to process it. It was a double assault; shame-red at one end and burning hell-hot at the other.

“You bastard,” she managed and squirmed like a kitten in a sack.

“No more foul language,” Garrick barked, each word complimented by a spank on her bottom.

Bug-eyed and boiling, she spat a stream of garbled insults the gods alone could have understood.

Garrick didn’t listen or care. He spanked her bare bottom at a pace until it sang with sting and burned berry red. Then he spanked her some more.

Stacy wailed something that could have been another ‘bastard’ but her mouth was wet with spittle and tears and snot had already leaked from her face.

“This is a spanking you will never forget,” Garrick sighed, “And think yourself lucky I don’t take it out side so all the people you nearly got killed can have a good laugh. You are certainly not worth taking to the woodshed right now. That is the privilege of half-grown-up teenagers. You are just another silly brat of a kid getting a sound spanking.”

“I didn’t…” Stacy sobbed her denials.

Garrick paused and leaned down low so he could speak into her ear. “Who called Coleridge in the first place? Who broke out of the perimeter during the attack? Who had to get herself rescued under fire? You even put our friend in harm’s way didn’t you?” He spoke calmly but with vehemence.

Stacy lie panting over his lap and felt suddenly sick. It was true. “Please,” she whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said gently, “Now take your spanking.”

The rest of the spanking was as long and hard as everything that preceded it. Only this time Stacy bawled like a sorry teen, even apologising in occasional babbling under the bottom burning assault.

Finally Garrick set her on her feet where she hopped before him grabbing her bottom and bawling like a child.

“Now listen,” he said.

Stacy stood panting and clawing at her behind, snot and tears marring her face. She had never been so sorry about anything in her whole life. Even the spanking hadn’t stung that out of her. She suddenly wished it had.

“Tell me,” Garrick continued, “What are you?”

A doe just before the kill looked less confused and vulnerable. Stacy shook her head.

“When you 18 and first moved to New York,” he said quietly, “Did you ever wake up naked and alone in that basement you mentioned?”

Stacy remembered that first time she had woken up on the cold dark floor. Not just that first time. She had pushed it from her mind. Once a month she would party hard and finish the evening in the basement. It had been just a thing… she felt a surge of panic. Then there were the blackouts… booze, just the booze…

“Yes,” she groaned in answer to Garrick’s question.

“What are you?” Garrick whispered urgently.

Stacy gaped at him. Her eyes and mouth formed three perfect circles and she felt that she was drowning. “I didn’t kill him. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me,” she wailed and suddenly she was lunging at Garrick and pounding his chest. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not…” she cried now collapsed in his arms and sobbing.

“It is okay, it is okay,” he soothed as she rocked slowly in his arms.

To be continued…

disciplined2_200LSF have published an new collection of short stories, Disciplined! Volume Two. With around 75,000 words, this anthology of spanking fiction features the following 23 stories.

They have mostly been published before either on A Voice or the LSF library, some of which can still be found.

Taken in Hand: Following the death of her parents, Deborah goes to live with her friend Cassidy and her father, Tom. She soon realises that nineteen-year-old Cassidy is spanked regularly by Tom, and she decides that if she’s going to be a true part of the family, she needs to be treated the same as Cassidy. So she asks Tom to punish her in the same way as he does his daughter. Tom obliges with slipper, tawse and cane.

Three Sisters: Galen’s three daughters may be grown up but they still cause him strife. He has to cane his youngest daughter for a thoughtless error and then he insists his middle daughter’s suitor prove his suitability by spanking and caning her. Just when he thinks it is all over he catches his eldest daughter sneaking back into the house late at night after meeting a man, and he birches her soundly.

Safe and Sound: Amy has crashed John’s precious car and as a sign of her repentance, waits for him, bare bottomed, in the outhouse. John sets an old chair in the middle of the room and takes her over his knee and gives her a hard spanking with a hairbrush. She is spanked to tears – which is exactly what she needs.

The Transformation of Eloise: Eloise inadvertently witnesses one of the bosses spanking his secretary. She gasps, but continues to peek through the gap in the door. Mr Hadrian knows she is there, and soon it is her turn to go over his knee for a bare bottom spanking. From that point on, the deliciously decadent things she has dreamed about slowly turn to reality as she learns what submission to a masterful man really means.

A Spanking on Main Street: It is wartime, and when Brad says he might join the army, girlfriend Kathy is scornful and rude. When he threatens to spank her, she continues to taunt him until he follows through… with a public, bare-bottom spanking!

Honour Thy Father: Alice Templeton won’t honour a verbal business agreement her late father made with William Sturbridge. He confronts her at her late grandfather’s house, and a taste of her grandfather’s hairbrush and cane reminds her of what she never got from her father, and misses getting from her grandfather.

Schadenfreude: Ashlyn takes great pleasure in setting up other students and getting them punished by the college vice-principal. Her mischief finally backfires, and her many victims – and the sorority standards committee – ensure that lasting justice is done to Ashlyn.

The Devil Made Me Do It: The narrator has a strange and compelling dream in which he finds himself in Purgatory. He joins a very long line of beautiful young women slowly crossing towards heaven, every tenth one being subjected to extreme punishment with paddle, strap or cane. The narrator is invited to punish some himself, with chilling consequences.

The Girl of the House: Phoebe has come to Dangerfield to assist with a decorating project, but time has passed with no progress. Dhenry, the master of the estate, regularly spanks the other two girls who live under his roof. Phoebe thinks it is a very strange arrangement, but then she paints a wall without permission and it is her turn to be on the receiving end.

Venus and Mars: A man and a woman in a long term relationship satisfy their mutual needs. The merits and effects of paddle, cane, strap, hand and more are outlined, along with the lingering after effects.

Punishment: Helen is found guilty in a foreign country and must face a severe flogging as penalty. Rather than decry the sentence as barbaric and create unwanted publicity for herself, she accepts the first round of punishment from her ‘instructor’ Stefan. A spark of chemistry is ignited between the two, as well as a fearsome heat in her bottom.

Dear Mr Brandon: Lady Constance is attracted to her cousin’s tutor. When she learns that her cousin is leaving for boarding school, she comes up with a reason for Mr Brandon to stay. But, is it what she expected?

A New Understanding: The uppity Amy Holman has been hired to handle the more modern clients of a rather old-fashioned law firm. Her boss, John Hartman, does not appreciate her attitude, especially the way she has been rude to some of their best clients. He decides to teach her a lesson by giving her an old-fashioned bare bottomed spanking across his knee.

The Vicar’s Tea Party: Bella, a young widow, is given an over-the-knee lesson in discipline by the hairbrush-wielding vicar, encouraged by Mrs Fortitude who is also a firm believer in bare bottom discipline. Bella decides to heed the lesson and spank her own daughter from now on and Ruth soon gives her reason to do so. Meanwhile Mrs Fortitude has to make amends for overspending and faces her husband’s cane.

Gypsy, Tramps and Thieves: Toni is too old to be lazing around playing games as a beach bum, using her looks to attract the guys. But she isn’t ready to learn this lesson – not until she ‘borrows’ someone else’s boat. The owner quickly reclaims his property, and Toni learns she has to pay the price for her behaviour … on her bottom.

Rayne’s Landing: When she decides to take a job and stay at Rayne’s Landing, Kathy has no idea of what she is getting in to. She soon discovers that Rayne ‘collects’ women and makes them her own, spanking them, having sex with them and even renaming them. She, of course, is not into any of that… or is she? Rayne herself also submits to Mr Manners, who visits regularly to spank her.

That Corner Time and the Summer of 1973: Martin knows that spanking and corner time are the best way to handle his fiery-tempered wife, especially after a mishap with the car. So Harmony finds herself in the corner again, nose to the wall, on a breezy summer day. As she struggles to keep a penny from dropping from the wall, she recalls some embarrassing past spankings. When the neighbours question Martin about the noise they’d heard earlier, they discover the bare-bottomed Harmony on display. Can things get any worse for her?

Witchcraft: Erin casts a spell to summon a man for a job she wants done. But the man who arrives at her door doesn’t want to be there and is even unhappier when he finds that he doesn’t seem to be able to leave. He takes matters into his own hands…

I Dream of Spanking: The fragments of a dream reveal she is trapped but makes a daring escape. She is chased but caught and spanked. She is embarrassed but feels denied. It’s all just a dream though… isn’t it?

Committee of One: Addie agrees to spend the summer in Colorado with her room mate Fran. She looks forward to satisfying her curiosity because Fran lives in a commune, and all who live there are subject to domestic discipline. Although Addie has a general idea of what goes on, she doesn’t think she will be included in any of the punishments. Wrong. Her silly stunt when out riding earns her a hard spanking on her bare bottom, and when she takes pictures of someone’s spanked bottom, she gets a taste of the strap. And yet, over time, she begins to feel like one of the family.

The Sheriff’s Wife & the Material Witness: Sammie’s curiosity about spanking is enhanced during a long-term stay with her cousin Kathy and her husband Dhenry… who is the town Sheriff. Sammie becomes aware that domestic discipline plays a significant role in Dhenry and Kathy’s relationship. Sammie herself lets curiosity go too far, and it isn’t long before she too finds herself on the receiving end of a paddle and switch on her bare bottom.

The Contract: Candice is dismayed to find that a special kind of contract has been ordered for her as punishment for her many misdeeds. She tries to avoid the spanking she is due, but Mr Dade has no problem tracking her down and administering what he does best.

Grounded: As Marnie is doing corner time after her spanking from Steve, the phone rings and the answering machine cuts in telling everyone who calls that Marnie has been a naughty girl and is grounded for a week. But one of the messages gives her every indication that Steve is going to give her another spanking when he finds out what she’s done…

You can get it here.


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