Shiny Rain and Blueberries


spanked otkAnnabelle ran her long auburn hair through her fingers allowing the strands to tumble across her face. Since she had been a child she had often thought that the world looked better through this red-brown curtain, but today it didn’t seem to be working.

“Oh shiny rain and blueberries,” she exploded.

It was her ritual expletive, taught to her long ago by Jack and Delia as a substitute for more conventional swearing. The lessons had been long and difficult she remembered ruefully.

She thought on her friends and former mentors now and sighed. She had been so close; what an opportunity, if only…

Well in a way her old mentors represented both the solution and the problem, she mused. Then for the umpteenth time that day she inwardly raged, if only I hadn’t told them I had a fiancé.

Annabelle let recent events run through her mind as she carefully let her hair fall back into place to reveal her heart-shaped face and big green eyes.

“It sounds like a brilliant business opportunity I can’t tell you how excited Jack and I are,” Delia had gushed down the phone. “We talked it over last night and lending you the 50,000 should be no problem. Bring that boyfriend of yours and we can talk about the details.”

“Eh… oh but… I am not sure he…” Annabelle had countered.

“You said he was integral part of the business, don’t be silly, of course he can come and meet us first,” Delia had continued enthusiastically.

“Shiny rain and blueberries, what am I going to do now?” Annabelle swore as soon as she had put down the phone.


Rob Foley was 42 and a little old to still be in the surf business. Some years before he had cut his long beach-boy blond locks back to a buzz-cut in honour of a rapidly receding hairline, which coupled with his cannonball shoulders and lean coral-scarred torso said to the world, ‘so I ain’t a kid anymore and I still surf, what are you going to do about it?’

Something of an autodidact, Rob was an unlikely business partner for the 34-year-old Annabelle, who in addition to an MBA held another master’s degree and a PhD in Economics. But Annabelle who had cut her business teeth in the city had seen the potential of Rob’s small beachside shop and just five weeks after revamping his website his profits had doubled with customers as far away as Australia looking for the European surfing experience.

When Annabelle had let slip that Rob was her boyfriend, it had been the easy option to fend-off all those awkward questions about her life. Had she known that she would be required to produce him for her old friends and mentors the Trowbridge’s, she might have faked a more suitable man. Rob Foley was old for God’s sake and he had tattoos. Well one anyway, a mermaid on his upper right arm. She didn’t dare speculate about other hidden body art.

There was nothing else for it, she would have to tough it out and hope that Rob went along with her plan. After all there was the small matter of £50,000 at stake.

“So these friends of yours want to meet me?” Rob said suspiciously when she told him. “This professor and his wife, the ones you were visiting when you found my shop?”

“Yes I told you,” Annabelle rolled up her eyes. Sometimes Rob’s bluff manner was a bore.

Rob scratched his head and threw her a puzzled look.

“But we live in the same town remember. Why can’t I just go and see them on my own or better still, why don’t they just drop into the shop? I can show them the website and everything,” Rob countered.

Annabelle was a bit stuck-up and heaven knew what two middle-aged intellectuals would be like if they were pressed from the same mould. Why the hell did he have stay for the weekend?

“Look it is just better this way, believe me,” Annabelle said impatiently.

She thought about the grim bachelor pad over the surf shop, it wasn’t even a shop; just a wooden hut that was probably a relic of the Second World War. It only had one bed and how would she explain not staying there with him.

Rob frowned and folded his arms, towering over her like an immoveable rock.

“Look,” Annabelle said, smiling charmingly, “They don’t need to see the shop okay? Maybe seeing the shop isn’t the best idea anyway. They are lending me the money based on my business experience and the website. They just want to meet you; the creative side of the project.”

Annabelle took his arm and moved in close in what she imagined a girlfriend would do.

He was used to her tactile manoeuvring, obviously a tactic developed in her business career. But it still bothered him and he stiffened a little. But it was nice all the same. Annabelle was cute and had a little bit more going on in her head than the young 20-somethings that flocked to him in the summer.

“And if they should get the idea that we were…” Annabelle let her fingers take a stroll on his chest, “Well it couldn’t hurt. After all if they find out that we hardly know one another they might have second thoughts about the money.”

“I thought these people were friends of yours? Surrogate parents or something didn’t you say? This is not some kind of a scam is it?” Rob growled.

Annabelle jumped back in horror.

“God No, how… no!” The idea hadn’t occurred to her.

She wouldn’t trick Jack and Delia. Not really. It was just that they… were sometimes a little overbearing and took that whole ‘look upon us as family’ thing way too far, she thought guiltily.

“No,” she said emphatically. “It’s just that their… well old. Jack is nearly 60 and they can be a bit old-fashioned.”

She didn’t mention that Delia was only a little older than Rob.

“Okay, okay, I get it. We’re best buds. We’ve known each other for years,” Rob sighed.

Annabelle took his arm again and offered up a warm smile, although it strained her neck to do so.


The house was so familiar to her; grey slate edged in stone at the corners. It overlooked a large bay on the north Cornish coast on the edge of town.

On the cliffs above was an old tin mine, or the remnants of one. People still came to look at them, not so much in search of history or in homage to the founders of the modern world, but rather for the romanticism captured in the Poldark books.

Annabelle had first come to the house at 18; a lost and wild child full of unfulfilled potential. Professor Trowbridge had recognised it from the first and when she could not find digs, he and his wife Dr Delia Trowbridge had invited Annabelle to stay.

Having no parents, the prospect of year round accommodation had been a godsend, but she soon found that they offered her more than a roof. Although she had been slow to appreciate their guidance; throwing a paddy and walking out on an almost weekly basis until she was reined in.

She blushed as she remembered those ‘reins.’ Although now, in a strange kind of a way she sometimes sort of missed them, she thought ruefully.

“Something wrong?” Rob asked her.

“Oh no, I was…” Annabelle shook the past from her head and returned an easy smile.

At that moment someone squealed, “Annabelle,” and tall thin woman ran grinning down the path from a door at the side of the house. “Jack, it’s Annabelle.”

Rob frowned. The woman was a looker and was no older than he was, he thought. He was about to say something, but even a surfer learned tact with maturity and in any case, if this was Delia, she would have seemed so much older to Annabelle growing up here, so he could cut her some slack.

“You must be Rob Foley,” Delia said, extending an arm.

Must be, Rob thought, the sarcasm a natural habit of his, but again he held his tongue and said, “Dr Trowbridge I presume, nice to meet you.”

Then remembering he was supposed to be long-time friend of Annabelle, he added, “At last.”

“Delia, call me Delia,” Delia smiled.

“Rob,” Rob replied, shaking her hand.

“Thank God for that,” said warm masculine voice behind them, “I was expecting a city-slicker.”

“Jack,” Delia chided, punching the newcomers arm.

“Jack,” Annabelle squealed embracing him.

When all the introductions were over the four of them went into the house while Delia asked a million questions, none of them of any importance. It gave him an inkling as to why Annabelle might want to keep it simple.


“So you pretty much adopted Annabelle when she started college?” Rob said to fill an awkward silence at the lunch table.

“I found out at our first meeting that she had no close family of her own,” Jack said. “I was her supervisor at college and still hadn’t found a place to live. Well… you know how it is. We had a big house and what with Delia being at the same college and knowing how things were. We thought why not.”

“It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement but… well hit it off I suppose,” Delia put in.

“Yes, hit in more ways than one,” Jack said with a smirk.

Annabelle blushed.

“Oh gosh, I remember,” Delia said; her jaw set in a way that suggested both fond memory and a weary parent. “I still don’t know what that was all about. Don’t you recall? One minute we were about to have dinner and the next Annabelle is standing on the front law in a rage using the most foul language I… well even allowing for her background in foster homes…”

Annabelle shifted uncomfortably in her seat and suddenly became fascinated with the cruet set.

“I spanked her bottom raw until she couldn’t sit down for a week,” Delia chuckled.

“Then washed her mouth out with soup as I recall,” Jack joined in.

“Oh guys,” Annabelle wailed, “For f… frog’s sake.”

Rob looked up with renewed interest and smiled.

“Quite an introduction to family life,” he said, and then turning to Annabelle added, “What did you about that?”

Annabelle glowered at the table cloth.

“It was a make or break moment I can tell you… but hasn’t she told you all this?” Jack asked.

“No…” Rob said slowly, “I don’t think she did.”

“Oh well, I half expected her to leave…” Jack said casually, oblivious to Annabelle’s embarrassment.

“She was sent to the corner you see,” Delia put in, “And went there like a lamb after some more encouragement.”

Rob laughed.

“Wasn’t she a bit old for that?” He continued laughing.

“Not then and not eight years later when she moved to the city,” Jack said proudly.

“Of course Jack took her in hand as well, as she got more challenging I mean,” Delia giggled.

Warming to her subject she went on to outline several punishments the undergraduate Annabelle suffered, swiftly moving on to the day as postgraduate student she was still in the corner with a caned bare bottom for drink driving when the plumber turned up.

“She would have been 24 then, the poor man didn’t know where to look,” Delia said humorously.

By now Jack had noticed Annabelle’s discomfort and was trying to close his wife down.

“I am sure as Annabelle’s future husband Rob will get to hear about this all in good time,” he said in an attempt to bring the conversation back to the reason for the visit.

“Husband, what?” Rob exclaimed.

“Oh shiny rain and blueberries,” Annabelle groaned and hid her head.

Jack and Delia exchanged looks and then joined in a quizzical glare in Annabelle’s direction.

“You aren’t Annabelle’s future husband?”

“I’m her business partner, what has she been saying?” Rob spluttered.

“Annabelle, I think you have some explaining to do,” Jack growled.

“I only… I mean… it is just that…” Annabelle squirmed.

“Annabelle, you are not too old to go over my knee and have your mouth washed out with soap,” Delia threatened.

“Yes indeed, you would look silly in the corner with a spanked bare bottom in front of Rob,” Jack put in.

“Oh go f… go to blueberries,” Annabelle raged, falling back on the same safe phrase she had learned over knee and in corner all those years ago.

Then with an angry yell she got up and screamed at Rob, “You couldn’t keep your… blueberry mouth shut, could you?”

Rob sat back open-mouthed and then crumpled up the napkin from his lap and dropped it onto his plate.

“That went well,” he said, “Is she always like this?”

“Yes,” the Trowbridge’s said in unison as the front door slammed.

“Before this goes any further I think we had better swap stories,” Rob sighed.

Jack nodded.

“Tea anyone?” Delia said brightly.


Rob was furious. He felt used. He had been perfectly happy running his small business before the know-it-all Annabelle had come into his life. Now he had found out that she had not only deceived him, but her best friends.

Still he felt a strange regret admixed with a certain something he could not identify that Annabelle was might now be out of his life. The Trowbridge’s had been perfectly reasonable about it all; amused even. But some of the things they had said rolled through his mind as left in Jack’s car; loaned to him so he could confront Annabelle.

“Trust Annabelle to get things about face,” Delia had said, “She never knows what it is she really wants.”

“Yes,” Jack had drawled, “Surfing is not exactly her line. Are you sure you didn’t meet her somewhere before she approached you about the business?”

Rob was certain of the latter. He would remember meeting a woman like Annabelle. The thought made him angry that she had been so convoluted in her approach. Perhaps if she had… he didn’t finish the thought.

Annabelle’s car was sitting outside the Jolly Fisherman down on the seafront not far from his surf shop as a matter of fact.

“Got ya,” he growled triumphantly.

She was sitting outside staring at her second large G&T as he got out of the car. She didn’t even look up.

“Piss off,” she snapped.

“What would Jack and Delia say about your language?” he teased.

Her head still bowed, she lifted her eyes and glared at him.

“But I guess you don’t really care what they think any more, do you?” he continued.

“I… of course I do, I just…” she sighed and then angrily spat, “What do you know anyway? Why don’t you just f… ooh… shiny rain and blueberries.”

Rob laughed at her use of the swear-word proxy. It showed that she hadn’t strayed too far.

“Jack, Delia and I had quite a long chat,” Rob said softly as he sat down beside her. “It seems you have something of a history of these… convoluted…” he grouped for a word, “Strategies. It seems they know how to handle you too,” he added.

Annabelle glowered, but ignored the last crack. Instead her face softened a little and she said in a small voice, “Are they mad?”

“Not especially,” he shrugged, “But I sure as hell am.”

“Why are you so mad? I nearly got you a £50,000 investment. Why do you care?”

He frowned. Was that all that mattered to her? Still?

“As a matter of fact Jack and Delia are still interested. They are just disappointed that you lied to them,” Rob’s voice rumbled, “Once-upon-a-time that would have mattered to you.”

“It still does,” Annabelle said indignantly, then she blushed, “Oh, you mean…”

She gave a heavy sigh and continued to blush.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Jack doesn’t have something to say in any case,” she added under her breath. Then more assertively she said, “I guess I had better go and see them.”

There was an ambiguous acceptance in her tone and something like anger and decision fluttered at the edges of Rob’s mind.

“Give me your car keys,” he said sternly holding out his hand. “You are not fit to drive anywhere.”

“What? You can’t…” Annabelle began, but then she saw his eyes. “Fine,” she said sullenly.

She handed him her keys, strangely happy that he had something of hers. Jack and Delia had agreed to the money, she remembered hopefully. Maybe… Then suddenly she was angry. How dare this man come into her life and tell her what to do? How dare he come and fetch her back to Jack and Delia’s like a runaway teen?

At 18 her mood swings and irrational behaviour had been a cry for help; a demand for attention. Over the years with Jack and Delia’s help she had got better, but finding her own feet during the last eight years had left her bereft of something that only in her most perceptive moments did she even begin to understand.

As a girl and even later she had come down to the seafront and watched Rob from afar in his shop. He was always surrounded by beach bimbos and leggy blondes, never seeing the mousy swat with her books. Not even on those rare days she ventured into his little empire.

Then she had moved away and put her girlish dreams aside.

The emotions that had assailed her all those weeks before when she had seen him again had been rekindled; especially when this time he had seen her watching him and had smiled. It was these emotions that now exploded within her.

Out of the blue she spat, “Bastard,” and slapped Rob across the face.

He recoiled.

“You…” he said, stunned, “I have a good mind to put you across my knee here and now you little hellion.”

Annabelle gaped at him flushing, both horrified and surprised by what she had done. Then his words sunk in and the rage came back.

“How dare you…?” she attempted to slap him again, but this time he easily caught her arm.

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” Rob said almost casually.

Not letting go of her arm he began walking towards one of the concrete bollards that mapped out the car park with Annabelle tumbling in his wake like a rag doll.

Well-trained by the Trowbridge’s, Annabelle knew what was coming. Jack had treated her to much the same preamble more than once. How much did Jack and Delia tell him she wondered amidst the rising panic?

“Bare bottom spankings are what you were used to I believe and no regard for who was watching. Well the whole town will see this,” Rob growled.

“Nooo, nooo, nooo please Rob,” Annabelle squealed, “Please… I’ll…”

Rob ignored her and reached the bollard easily without the least hindrance from her struggles.

“Not here, please,” Annabelle said in husky desperation.

Rob paused.

“So you admit you deserve a damn good spanking?” His voice was loud and someone must have heard.

Annabelle felt her face melt, but was too afraid to look about to see who had heard.

“No?” Rob shrugged pulling her to him.

“Okay yes,” Annabelle gasped, then in a whisper pleaded, “But please not here. Please, please, please…”

Pulling her tight to his chest so that he could feel her warmth Rob stooped and whispered something in her ear.

“You can’t be… that’s…” she gaped.

“Alright then,” Rob said with another shrug and sat on the bollard.

“Okay,” Annabelle pulled away at last and held up her hands in surrender.

“Good enough,” Rob grinned, “But remember, I have your car keys. If I have to come looking for you…”

A blushing and meek Annabelle nodded and looked about her hoping no one was watching.

“Off you go then and I’ll join you in a minute,” Rob said sternly.


Rob took his time. At first he hung back and watched Annabelle all but run ahead of him. Doubtless she was embarrassed and wanted to get off the street. At least she was making no attempt to run away and headed straight for his surf shop.

As a business partner she had her own keys. He had already checked to make sure that they weren’t on the ring with the car keys. Sure enough she got to the shop and went in.

His instructions had been clear, not that he expected her to obey him without further argument, but at least he had given her a chance. He waited a few minutes for her to ready herself, but not too long lest she think of more reasons to rebel. Then he followed.

He found her standing defiantly in the back office; not what he had ordered.

“You want me to take you back outside again?” he growled.

She glowered at him, her face an angry red with all the appearance of someone who didn’t know if to scratch his eyes out or try to make a break for it.

“I’ll tell you what, now that we have both calmed down I’ll call Jack and ask him to adjudicate,” Rob said, his voice sharp and his hand reaching for the telephone.

“So you need Jack to fight your battles now do you?” Annabelle said scornfully.

Rob shrugged and folded his arms.

“Alright then, do as you’re told or I am taking you right back out there. This is your last chance,” he said.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Annabelle sneered.

“Well alright, this is going to be embarrassing,” Rob heaved a sigh and took a purposeful step forward, adding, “For you.”

“Okay, okay,” she said quickly, batting the air down with the palms of her hands.

“Too late I think,” Rob said casually as he strode towards her.

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it, okay,” Annabelle said in a panicked voice, her hands fluttered at her waist and as she turned away she bent forward to shove her smart trousers down to her ankles and after a slight hesitation, she slipped her high-cut briefs down on top of them.

As she pushed her opulent firm and smooth bottom towards him he gasped and felt a tightness in his lower stomach. Something twitched in appreciation and as soon as she was facing the wall he adjusted his clothing.

“Rather too late for contrition don’t you think?” he growled.

She stiffened and fixed her eyes on the wall in front of her. Even from behind he could see her swallow as her cheeks became suffused with the blood flooding her face.

“You couldn’t expect me to just… look I’m sorry, okay. I’m really sorry. Please this is embarrassing enough. How was I to know you meant it,” she pleaded.

“So you agree to take what’s coming to you with no further resistance?” he challenged her.

She gave a small nod.

“Say it,” he snapped.


“Yes what?”

“Yes… sir?”

“Say it,” he barked.

“I’ll take my… my spanking without further resistance,” she managed, her voice tight. “I’m sorry.”

“That, I suppose will do for a start,” he sighed, “But by the time I am done with you, you will be.”

After a few moments scrabbling around he found a short hardwood brush with wire bristles that he used to scrape old wax off boards he was restoring. He patted the flat side hard against his palm before deciding it was just the thing.

Annabelle stole a glance over her shoulder and gulped.

“Come here,” Rob rasped as he sat in an old Victorian armless chair that was set against the other wall.

With her hands cupped over her sex Annabelle shuffled forward, in her mind she was back with the Trowbridge’s about to be justly spanked. It was a strangely familiar warm feeling coupled with the same excitement and apprehension that she had never got used to.

He tipped her easily over his firm muscular thighs that to her felt like two pillows of stone beneath her tummy. He took both wrists in his left hand and pinned them as firmly as steel cuffs. Then a small age passed as he rubbed the cool flat wood of the brush over both her upturned buttocks, patting her firmly a little as he contemplated her exposed bottom.

Even these pats stung and her head throbbed in a forgotten anticipation. This is crazy, she thought without conviction.

The first swat was a breath stealing sting that kept growing beyond anything she remembered. Her eyes were already starting in her head when Rob spanked her again so she grunted.

“By the time I am done with you, Delia will have to set a place for you on the mantelpiece,” Rob muttered, following this with a short sharp volley that set Annabelle dancing.

For a moment the embarrassment of the mantelpiece crack stole her attention and she wondered what Jack and Delia had told him. Then the sting became a burn and for the next few minutes she grunted and groaned through clenched teeth as she thrashed impotently across his lap.

Finally with no sign that Rob intended to stop spanking her any time soon she gave a miserable whine and then spluttered to the first of many sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she booed, adding with a chuckling wail, “I’m so sorry.”

Rob looked down at the red welted pads that were described by two large ovals on each bottom cheek and shrugged. She may be sorry but he was far from done with yet. This spanking had a very long way to go.


Annabelle had cried her heart out for more than half an hour as she stood in the corner. Never had she been so grateful to be there. If every customer Rob had ever had had come in to buy something she would have been oblivious.

Finally the tears had begun to dry on her face making it tickle but she could not remember when she had felt so clean.

Then Rob had told her the rest.

She blushed until her face boiled but all she could do was bite her lip and nod. If Rob had ordered to march back to Jack and Delia’s with her trousers and knickers around her ankles she would have obeyed him right then.

While she had stood in the corner Rob had phoned Jack and now he was ready to take her home.

The worst part, the worst part now anyway, was that Rob had ordained that she would not be permitted to put her trousers or knickers on until she had apologised to Jack and Delia. They must have told him something she decided, but all the fight had gone out of her and she was a surrendered soul.

Luckily it was dark as Rob locked up the shop, but even so it seemed to take an age for him to turn out the lights and check the doors and windows as she stood exposed in the street. Then hands planted between her thighs she had meekly led the way back to the car on the other side of the road praying all the time that no one saw her.

It took another age for Rob to unlock and let her in.

The next obstacle was the seat of molten sandpaper, which despite her embarrassment made her twist her bottom off the seat.

“It’s only a short journey, you can kneel facing backwards if you like,” Rob suggested.

Annabelle was mortified at the indignity, but a suggestion from Rob was a command at the moment and she nodded.

The drive seemed to take forever and every oncoming car reminded Annabelle of theatrical spotlight and that she was the show.

“Oooh, shiny rain and blueberries,” she wailed.


Back at Jack and Delia’s Annabelle was made to kneel on the carpet in the dining room and explain her actions whining and sniffing.

Finally she broke down completely and sobbed, “I’m sorry Delia, Jack, I’m so sorry.”

“I know dear, but all’s well that ends well,” Delia said sympathetically.

My bottom doesn’t feel too well Annabelle thought, but then Rob coughed.

“Oh…” Annabelle sucked in her cheeks and looked down. “I have to say… that is… well if you want to… to spank me as well, then… well… oh God…well”

She stole a shy look at Rob and blushed even more than she already was.

“Oh I think one of us will take you aside for a very long conversation before you go back to London. That is when your bottom is up to it,” Jack chuckled.

“That is enough of that for now,” Delia chided, “Come on, I have set you a place at the mantelpiece.”

“Yes Delia,” Annabelle said ruefully. “But can’t I get dressed first?”

She looked at Rob as she spoke but he shook his head. He was definitely going to be in charge from now on.

“Ooh, shiny rain and blueberries,” Annabelle cursed.


8 Responses to “Shiny Rain and Blueberries”

  1. 1 paul

    a very well derserved spanking though for her behaviour i would have caned her nice story

  2. 2 paul1510

    a very nice story.
    So what part of north Cornwall were you thinking of, I live about three minutes from the Atlantic, we have some great surfing here. 😀

  3. 3 Ayla

    Lots of healthy antioxidants in blueberries…cranberries….pomegranates..
    ..Fluffy snow and frozen figs flying down the mountainside on skis! !!!! I wish I was young enough to backpack in winter again or to interest a man. Never in my life did my ass look like a single one in the great pictures in this blog. Like fine wine, DJ, your stories age well. A great cast of characters and commenters to keep my imagination company as the yesrs roll

    • 4 Ayla

      …. as the years roll on by. (And perhaps at 60, I’ve finally found a top who can bring me to tears: a touch-screen telephone with a mind of its own)

  4. Great job on this one, DJ.

  5. 6 Mark

    That is a fun story.

    Most women are far more sensible of course.

    They should be spanked anyway, just to keep everyone happy.

  6. 7 DJ

    Thanks Ayla – we could all benefit from your experience (and nutrition advice) 😉

    Thanks for the kind words Paul, Paul, Patron and Mark (which would be a great name for a firm of solicitors) 😉


    • 8 Ayla

      DJ, you are a kind man and always a gentleman. And since Voice in the Corner is open to nuritional advice, I’ll offer a bit more: “Lots of B vitamins (and gluten if you are trying to avoid that) in BEER, especially less filtered varieties….. And since B vitamins are water soluble (unlike fat soluble A,D,E) and lost through urine, daily replacement is required, either alone with excellent erotica or socially in pubs.

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