Dotes: lost in Yorkshire


There was an email to this blog the other day asking about Dotes. The gist of the mail was if the Dotes feature is based on true stories, then why are there not more stories about DJ as the Dom. This chimed with another conversation being had elsewhere. So for Elly and especially New Girl here is a real life adventure from the life and times of Damian John Black.

It has to be said that most of our socialising was with my friends so I could hardly object when she suggested that we go to a party with some of hers.

“You don’t even like most of your friends here in Yorkshire.” CJ said gently. “Your real friends are all down south in London and those places in the Shires with silly names.”

She said down south with a flat nasal sound that she used when she was mocking my southern accent, it was more pronounced in those days. As she said it, it came out:

“Dan Saf.”

Not that she had any particular northern accent. She was strictly RP from a good family.

“Alright we’ll go.” I said in surrender. “Look this is me putting my coat on.”

“You can’t wear that coat.” She said pulling a face.

“Are you telling me what I can wear woman?” I growled, pretending to be cross, but actually puzzled, she liked my long trademark coat.

She bit her lip and looked nervous.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“The party is kind of off the beaten track.” She licked her lips. “Sort of a bit off the bus routes.”

“You are not telling me we have to bike it to a party?” I wasn’t the least bothered but she thought I would be for some reason.

“Its not far.” She said quickly worried that I might be put out. Then she grimaced. “Well actually it kind of is.”

I stifled a smirk and folded my arms in a picture of sternness.

“Not far but is.” I screwed my face up. “Where is this party? The back of a moving van.”

She started to giggle.

The party it turned out was in another village almost on the other side of town and we had to use the dual carriage way and some convoluted navigation was called for. In a straight line it was not far.

After we had attired ourselves so that we could ride bicycles but still looked cool enough to go to a party we finally set out.

The party was OK. Her sophisticated friend had just got back from abroad and was full of tales of horror and woe, which had CJ engrossed in all the excitement. I chatted easily with CJs male friends, while we lamented the lousy beer.

Towards the end of the party CJ gave me a hug.

“Thanks for coming.” She whispered.

“It’s been fun.” I smiled. “Long ride home though. When you think our village is just over the fields there and we have to go all the way round.”

“I have an idea about that.” She gave me an excited squeeze. “Jeb says there is a cut-through to the railway line and the roads join-up on the other side.”

“Are you sure?” I was doubtful. “Jeb is a bit drunk and if we go the way we know we can be home in less than an hour.”

“No it’s fine, I know the way he means. The road he is talking about is the same road that goes to that farm with the old castle that the farmer uses as a cattle barn.”

I knew the farm she meant and the road. It did go near the railway line, but I wasn’t sure that even if there were a way through it would be any quicker. Not in the dark.

“Come on let’s try.” She was in an adventurous mood after all the stories.

We left the well-lit village street and were soon racing down dark country lanes. I immediately wondered if this was a good idea.

“CJ come on let’s go back.” I called but she had raced ahead forcing me to follow.

CJ was determined to prove her short cut would work so we headed off into the darkness faster than was wise for the road conditions. Eventually we came to a small tunnel under the railway line that allowed us to be the right side of the tracks for our village.

“See I told you.” She called as she raced on.

At the end of the lane, she turned left when I knew that we should head right. She explained that if we turned right too soon then we would come back on ourselves.

I was about to point out that any route that didn’t re-cross the tracks would be OK when she sped on into the night. I finally caught up with her at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. It had now been 25 minutes or more since we had left the party. The road right at this point would take us to the dual carriageway that we would have reached after 10 minutes going the so-called longer way.

“I think we go left and then right.” She did not sound at all certain.

“Don’t you mean right and then left?”

She scowled at me and turned left away from the direction of home I thought.

Fifteen minutes later we were back at the same crossroads. CJ didn’t say a word but meekly turned left, that would have been the right turn I suggested the first time we had been there.

“You know we would have been almost home by now if we had gone they way we knew.” I suggested.

This did not deter her from making a random left turn.

Another 15 minutes later, at a time when I now knew for certain we would have been home, we came to a crossroads I knew. We were still about 30 minutes from home.

“I think we should go down there.” CJ pointed in the wrong direction.

“Do you know where you are?” I asked.


“You’re lost aren’t you?”

“A bit.”

“You have been lost since we crossed under the railway lines haven’t you?”

“Maybe a bit.”

“Maybe a bit.” I was beginning to lose patience.

There was a park-type bench at the side of the road where the roads opened out so that drivers could see at the crossroads. I had no idea why it was there, as we seemed to be miles from any house. It was the landmark that helped identify where we were.

I dismounted and lay my bike on the grass verge.

“Come here.”

“Look I’m sorry, when we get home.”

“Come here.”

She dismounted as well as walked over to me.

I sat on the bench and pulled her across my knee in one smooth motion.

“Not here.” She wailed. “Someone will see.”

I was in no mood to laugh so I did not point out that it was so dark she was just a grey outline across my lap and that in any case we had not seen a soul in nearly an hour.

I swatted the grey sphere before me and she yelped. It was hard and unyielding. She was in good shape and firm at the best of times but through heavy denim it was going to hurt me more than her. That did not deter me and I proceeded with the spanking at a rapid pace until my hand ached.

As predicted she was in little distress and just made little gasps and grunts.

“Please not here someone will come.” She wailed.

Determined to make an impact I set her on her feet and was about to order her to take her jeans and knickers down when a car came round the bend.

“Are you alright sir?” The police officer behind the wheel asked.

“Yes thanks, just checking our bearings.”

“You both got lights?”

I assured him we did. He knew something was up but left us to it. CJ just stood there rubbing her bottom.

“I ought to finish spanking you anyway.” I said. “Then make you ride home without your jeans and knickers.”

“I know.” CJ breathed resting her head on my shoulder. “You can do anything you want to me, I deserve it.”

“Now follow me and keep up. I know the way and there will be no more detours, understand?”

CJ nodded and we made it home in 25 minutes without further incident.

Once we got home, I put the bikes away in the shed. The motion sensor light came on and as I turned I caught sight of the corner in the yard. I remembered a conversation CJ and I had once had and an idea began to form in my mind.

I went back into the house and as it was late, I half expected her to have gone to bed. But she was waiting, standing nervously in the kitchen.

“Shall we go to bed?” I asked.

“Aren’t you going to punish me? I deserve it.” She said. Her mouth was tight as she struggled to say the word punish. I loved the way she was embarrassed saying certain words. Making her say spanking or I deserve a spanking was always such a joy.

“I am a bit too tired and uptight to play games, I know we talked about it but I don’t think I should really punish you.”

“I do.” She looked at me expectantly; there was a challenge in her eyes.

“Alright. Go and get into that short t-shirt you sometimes wear to bed and nothing else. Then come back down.” I instructed.

I thought about what was going to happen. It was something she had told me she needed sometime and it was something that I had done before but there was something raw about this night.

She came downstairs sooner than I expected dressed as I had said. The shirt barely covered her front below the waist and left half her bottom bare behind.

“Perhaps I should take you for a walk dressed like that.” I teased.

She sighed heavily her breathing audible. She glanced towards the door and her demeanour suggested that she wasn’t sure if I was joking or not.

“Go and stand in that corner.” I said pointing to the corner by the door.

She had never done more than a few minutes corner time before and she looked uncomfortable at my order, but she blushingly did as she was told. I told her to put her hands on her head, which she did. This had the effect of completely baring her bottom.

I had decided to try for half an hour. I didn’t know if I had the patience and I knew neither did she.

She did not get to five minutes before she turned round angrily.

“This is stupid. If your not going to do it then what is the point. You can use the stick, but this is stupid.”

“Are you bored?” I asked, ignoring her outburst, I felt strangely in control.

“No.” She whispered.

“Embarrassed? Vulnerable?”

“Yes.” She said meekly.

“Remember when you threw that book at me and I said if you ever did that again you would get corner time in the yard.”

“I can’t believe I did that.” She started to go off on one but stopped. She glanced towards the door. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She put her hand to her mouth after she said that. We had talked about this and she had said that when a girl says that it means ‘you had better dare’.

She started to resist as I bundled her out of the door until I suggested that at this time of the morning there was no one to see if she were quiet.

I had her stand in the corner of the yard with her hands on her head in the full glare of spotlight. I stood admiring her until it went dark and then returned to the kitchen.

“Don’t move the light comes on.” She squeaked.

“No. You don’t move and it won’t.” I must have been grinning.

It had gone two by now and there was little chance that anyone in the few houses that overlooked us was up. Even if they were, what were the odds that they would look out of the window in the short time that the motion activated light came on. But that was not how it must have seemed to her.

I had no idea how she was really taking this and was worried that she may be unduly distressed. After all, we had not gone this far before, so after five minutes I went outside.

“Are you ready to do your corner time inside like a good girl?” I asked.

“Yes please.” She said meekly. “Its cold out here.”

She finished her corner time inside like a lamb. Days afterwards she told me she thought she had been outside for half an hour and could not believe that I had made her do it. There was respect and awe in her voice as she said it.

“How long will CJ stand in the corner when she is told?” She giggled. “As long DJ says.”

After the corner time, which I had no difficulty in imposing, I took her upstairs, carrying her over my shoulder. She usually complained when I did this but on this occasion she was quiet.

I had her stand and face the wall in our spare bedroom. She just had time to see the armless chair with the stick and plimsoll resting on it.

“Are you going to make me cry?” She whispered as she stood there.

She had never cried before, although she had said that I should make her. It had not been for want of trying on my part, but she was a tough girl and she usually just got even more aroused.

I didn’t answer her. I thought it better to keep her guessing; after all, I had no idea how far we would take this.

Everything had slowed down for me now. I probably kept her facing the wall for another 15 minutes. Unlike before she did not rebel.

Finally I took her by the arm and put her across my knee. She was wet.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this.” I suppressed a laugh.

“I know. Better make sure I don’t then.”

I spanked her hard. Her bare bottom was firm but yielding, much better than the drum tightness of her jeans earlier. She made little noises and squeaks as my hand spanked her firmly and steadily. I kept it up long after my hand was sore and her bottom was impossibly red. After about 15 minutes, she began to struggle and make groaning noises. Usually this was my signal to stop for a while, but this time I pressed on until my arm started to ache.

She hadn’t protested up until now and I already knew we were exploring the edge. She was breathing heavily and kept crossing and uncrossing her ankles. Finally my arm gave out and I stopped spanking her. I gave her a few minutes to settle down while I fondled her sore bottom ignoring her gasps and wincing. It also gave me time to rest my arm.

Then I proceeded to the plimsoll. It made a satisfying splat. She became animated at this spanking and began rocking up and down. After a few minutes of this treatment she usually cried off and we always did this in short bursts.

She always told me afterwards that I should make her take it, but in those days that was often easier said than done.

This time I was determined to take her to her limits and then explore a little journey beyond. The spanking lasted longer than one usually carried out with my hand and I was still good to go.

She on the other hand was squirming violently and sounded as if she was close to tears.

“I’m sorry. Oh god. Please.” She groaned under her breath, but her voice was devoid of anger or any unconscious phrase she generally used when she had had enough.

We did not use safe words.

“What’s the point in that?” She said with open disdain the one time we discussed it.

But when pushing it I needed to be tuned into to where she was. Although even on the rare occasions that I got it wrong when we first got together, she was always dismissive of it afterwards.

I have no idea how long the second spanking lasted. I had never spanked her so long and hard before, not even with the flat of my hand. When I finally stopped, she crawled into my lap for a cuddle.

Her bottom was dark red and goosepimply all over. There were rubbery ridges between the cleft of her cheeks where the spanked and unspanked flesh met.

“God I’m sore. Can I look?” She breathed.

“I am not done with you yet.” I replied.

She glanced at the stick.

“I know.” She said resigned.

I let her go and inspect herself in the mirror.

“Wow, It’s amazing.” Her eyes were filled with amazement.

I had to agree. I felt a strange satisfaction seeing the results of my handiwork. Was it a feeling of power? It is hard to define the emotion.

Once, CJ had asked me how it felt to be the Dom, I could not explain and she could not tell me what it was she felt on her part so we dropped it.

Unbidden she walked back to face the wall. I had thought about letting it go at that. After all it had long gone three. But it was not yet over and we both knew it.

For the last portion, I had her bend over the back of the chair with her hands flat on the seat.

I aimed for the reddened parts, especially on the underside where she sat.

“Bastard.” She hissed. But she smiled back at me.

Thinking back to the first time I had spanked her, I had taken her completely by surprise. I had no idea what she was thinking about the whole thing. Then when I saw later she just said:

“Wow I have been thinking about you and what we did last night every time I sat down.”

Since then denial-of-sitting-rights attacks were a kind of thing between us.

I thrashed her with the stick at a good pace. It was something between a caning and a switching. She usually hated this kind of punishment. As usual she just squeaked and squealed, but she kept position long past the point that I would have to hold her.

In fact, I only brought the whole thing to a stop because her bottom looked so ravage I thought it might bleed.

“God you never cry.” I said in wonder.

She turned to look up at me with tear-filled eyes.

“Wanna bet.” She sobbed. “I’m wet at both ends.”

“I think we are done.” I said.

“That is entirely up to you.” She breathed.

The rest is between us.

2 Responses to “Dotes: lost in Yorkshire”

  1. 1 Alliegirl40

    What a lovely story!!!

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