Vintage Sunday


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Woman machine
Anette watched the nervous young woman enter the room through the one way glass. She was petite with a fashionable pixie cut to her dark blonde hair. Anette knew the type, party girls whose high jinks had gotten out of hand. She was now devoid of her other fashion statement garb. The grey prison smock was far too short for her and she had been given the kind that was half open at the back so that the lower half of her body was all but nude. Someone in admissions had a sense of humour or perhaps the girl had a smart mouth. Anette figured the latter was most likely.

Anette had been doing this job since graduating law, the only defence work being in court appointments. Correctional officer paid way better, but the changes coming down might see the 34-year-old out of a job. She sighed and consoled herself with the fact that this centre still did things the old way, although even here there was a test facility.

Anette turned her attention back to the girl. “Place yourself across the padded bar,” she ordered through intercom.

The pixie cut girl startled and looked around. Anette smiled at her pert bubble bottom as she got a glimpse in profile and then with relish she said, “Bend over the bar before my colleague arrives or its six penalty strokes.”

The Pixie adopted a sour expression and regarded the padded bar in the middle of the room with disdain. “Do you know who my father is?” she said with pout.

Anette pulled up the charge on the vid display. Shoplifting, resisting arrest, minor assault on a cop… the name looked familiar and certainly aristocratic.

“Do you know who I am?” Amelia Botham-Stein continued haughtily.

“No,” Anette said from behind the glass. “Now bend over the padded bar before my colleague arrives or its eight penalty strokes.”

“You said six,” Amelia protested.

“I am fickle like that. The six is for answering back, the eight will be on top of that,” Anette said in a bored voice.

“I am supposed to get 24… but I want to appeal… so if you would just…” Amelia sounded like she was used to getting her own way.

“Now you are getting 24 and a possible extra 12,” Anette replied sharply.

“Twelve,” Amelia gasped.

“Miss Botham-Stein, please bend over the bar,” Anette repeated and now really hoped that she didn’t.

“Look if you think…” Amelia began.

Just then the door opened and a large square-jawed man entered. Officer Dan Berwick had short dark hair and was built like a South Pacific Rugby player. “She is supposed to be ready,” he groaned.

“I know, sorry,” an unseen Anette grinned, “She is up for 24 and 15 extras,” Anette was feeling arbitrary today and the girl was pissing her off.

“Look I am bending,” Amelia blurted, her face was a hot red, “No need for extra.”

Anette saw Dan gazing wistfully at the girl’s bottom as she bent over. Quite an article, glamour model-worthy, she thought.

“What you got on the score sheet?” Dan asked, his gaze never leaving the proffered bare bottom.

“Now it is 39,” Anette told him. She regretted that she hadn’t been able to justify the maximum of 48.

“What?” Amelia exclaimed, but the auto-frame already held her and she was helpless.

“Are you using the paddle or cane?” Anette asked.

Dan looked thoughtful for a moment. “Long paddle for the sentence and the cane for the extras I think,” he said.

Anette loved the leeway they had in their job and wished that she was on execution today instead of admin.

“Look…” Amelia gulped, “Please… I mean you don’t know who I am,” she sounded more conciliatory now.

Dan looked over to where he knew Anette was watching from and then opening a long draw selected a long-handled thin bladed paddle. Then turning his attention to Amelia’s bare bottom he patted it twice.

“No I don’t,” he said, “and I really don’t care.”

Then the paddle struck bare bottom like a 10,000 fire ants and Amelia shrieked.

“One,” Anette announced.

“Oh God, oh God,” Amelia gasped and twisted her tail as if the burn could be shaken off.

The paddle struck again and looking at the face monitor Anette thought the girl’s eyes would pop out of head. Amelia herself couldn’t gather the breath to scream. Then she did.

“Two,” Anette remembered.

“Please listen, maybe I… couldn’t we…?” Amelia was babbling.

The paddle landed again and the cursed and made a growl in her throat.

“You can’t do this, you can’t…” she wailed.

“That was three,” Anette licked her lips. The woman’s bare bottom was a decided rich pink and was getting darker.

The fourth impact made Amelia scream and left her panting.

“Four,” Anette announced.

“Oh God,” Amelia yelled, “Please, please, can’t we work something out? I will do anything.”

“Anything?” Dan paused and cocked his eye in interest.

Anette wondered if he had forgotten Anette was watching, not to mention the video.

“Anything,” Amelia pleaded breathlessly.

“Anything? Will you take the rest of your punishment like a good girl?” Dan asked.

Amelia opened her mouth to speak, an almost perfect O on a face of woe. Then she muttered something.

The paddle struck again and she began to cry.

“Five,” Anette said, she was grinning.

The paddle landed quickly after.

“Six,” Anette said and eyed the bare bottom mooning up over the bar. It was no longer pink. Now it was a rich hot red and the officers fancied they could see a heat haze. “Let’s take a minute so everyone can get their breath back,” she added.

Amelia was crying.


I am going to miss this one day, Anette thought sadly as she looked through the one-way mirror at the sobbing girl and her by now incredibly sore bare bottom. In last few years the authorities had been automating the correction centres, replacing professional CP specialists with Tech operators. Still she had today and it might take a couple of years to completely automate the system. She eyed the gentle rise and fall of Amelia’s bottom as she cried and cocked her head in satisfaction; Dan was doing a good job. There were 18 swats down and a good 15 stroke caning to come. Amelia herself had toned down the attitude and was now just trying to get through it. It was time to up the ante.

“Dan is this case slated for public release?” she said on the intercom.

“You mean the video feed?” Dan looked at the mirror, knowing Anette was grinning.

“That’s right, the status hasn’t been uploaded,” his colleague continued.

“I think it is a discretionary one,” he said, knowing they were all discretionary releases unless the court had blocked it. In any case final release would be decided by others and he doubted this case would ever see the light of day, but Anette liked to tease.

“P-public, public release?” Amelia said miserably, now pulling herself together.

“Oh you are still with us,” Anette said cheerfully. “Yes, we might release video of your correction on the feed, you know as a deterrent to others.”

“Oh God, no, no, no, no please,” Amelia sounded frantic.

“Is that another demand?” Anette asked crisply.

Amelia’s eyes darted in her head as her mind raced. “N-no, I am sorry, I know I deserve this, you are only doing your job… but please… please don’t… oh my God, I would never live it down.” She started to cry again.

“You might want to save your tears for the rest of your correction,” Anette chuckled.

Dan took the hint and stepped forward to deliver the final six of the paddle segment.

“Look… I am so sorry I was rude, you should… give me more if you like, but don’t…” Amelia begged.

“We will think about it,” Anette fixed her gaze on the sore bottom pointing at the ceiling.

The 19th stroke drew a pitiful scream and Anette counted it aloud. Twenty came close in its wake. The 15 strokes of the cane would be very effective on such a well-prepared bottom, Anette was loving this.

Amelia was saving her strength and now only grunted at each swat, they were going to upload her punishment, she had been to parties where other women’s corrections had been run on a loop while people laughed, she had laughed.

Anette knew what she was thinking and knew too that once the caning started the girl wouldn’t care about what happened afterwards.

Beyond the glass the last paddle stroke made an impact.

“Man, that is one red bottom,” Dan whistled.

Anette had to agree; she grinned.


“Now if you hadn’t given us attitude and had got into place before I had arrived your punishment would be done by now,” Dan told the girl.

“Look I am sorry… can’t we…?” Amelia wailed.

“You have 15 strokes of the cane to come, you want to get it over with or do you need a rest?” Dan asked.

Anette hoped she would opt to extend the agony, Dan and she could get a coffee while the brat stood in the corner for 20 or 30 minutes, that really got to work on a girl’s mind and would seem like hours. Nothing amended an attitude better.

Amelia gulped and sucked in air through her nose. “Are you really going to release this to the feed?” Her voice was meek and small.

“No,” Dan said emphatically. He looked at the glass as if to say Anette’s teasing had gone far enough. Then in a paternal tone he added, “Now you understand that poor decisions have consequences?”

“Yes sir,” Amelia whispered.

“Are you ready to take the rest of your punishment?” Dan asked.

Amelia’s head bobbed and she braced herself. “I want to get it over with,” she said.

“Good girl,” Dan told her and lined up for the stroke.

To be continued…




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Another quick round-up of some spanking sites amateur and professional. It seems it is hot and slow everywhere at the moment.

Pictures above found at: Devlin, the Spanking Blog, O&P, Dallas, Real Spankings, AAA, Contemporary Spanking, and Grumpy.



atttention and distractions

Its hard to concentrate when there are so many distractions, but with maturity one can master it.

Vintage Sunday


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Not a lot to say this week. I have been busy catching up after my illness and many others seems to be away.

Holdodeck is finished, but following a couple of communications I agree that there is scope for a sequel. Not soon though. In the Service of the Wolf is top of the agenda and a revisit to Abraham Heights.

I also hope to review a couple of books by others.

Pictures found at various, including BDSMLR, Chicago Spanking Review, Vanilla Spanking, Dallas, and AAA.


Part one here

Tzara’s mind was racing, so long as this crazy world had come out of her own head, and she was now seriously beginning to doubt that, it had been bearable. It had even made a kind of sense. Now centre stage its major character’s included old reliable shipmates, officers yet, who were supposed to be conventional and reliable.

She could not get the sight of Ensign Tyler being across Ginette’s knee and spanked like a child. It had been as disturbing as it was erotic and it was this last notion that she could not shake. Did Ginette really think she was going to spend the next million years or more spanking her and the hapless Tyler? What had Tyler even done and what hold did she have over the girl. Tzara had to nip this in the bud and tell Galen to send Lady Dancer, as she styled herself, packing.

Galen was deep in thought as she entered his rooms. Karl had passed her in the passageway and she assumed that he had just had his own meeting with Galen.

“My Lord, you have to do something about…” Tzara had her hackles up and it was in her voice.

Galen held up a hand to silence her before even looking her way. In his hands he held some documents that he quickly reviewed while Tzara danced impatiently from one foot to the other.

“Lady Dancer… she…” Tzara tried again.

“It says here that there are some irregularities with bonded indentures,” he said ignoring her, “They were never filed or registered with either the Guild of Concubines or any authority.”

Tzara almost blurted of course not, none of this was supposed to last, but she held her tongue.

“Lady Dancer has issued me with a waiver, but with conditions,” Galen said. He was angry, she knew him well enough to see that.

“Have you checked her authority?” Tzara asked sourly.

“All in good time, but Karl is convinced,” Galen finally looked at her, “It might be politic to humour her.”

“And what are her conditions?” his concubine said sullenly.

“Lady Dancer has taken quite an interest in you and your curious behaviour. She believes that you would benefit from some schooling at one of the Convent Schools of the Order of the Steel Rose,” Galen told her, but he looked thoughtfully.

“A school, but I am… this is all a trick, she is mad, she…” Tzara fought a rising sense of panic.

“Is she?” Galen sighed. He looked with fresh eyes on his indentured companion. She had been difficult and clearly had had no training, despite what her indentures claimed. There had been the episode with the rock climbing and her general attitude. “I think it might be a good idea.”

“What?” Tzara gasped.

“Lady Dancer suggests a period of induction, perhaps for six months or so. Then you will attend the convent on a three months on, three months off basis until your training is complete,” Galen had clearly made up his mind.

“I won’t do it,” Tzara all but yelled.

Galen, who up until then had been only paying her half attention, cocked his brow and turned to look at her square on. The air hung between them like a dagger.

“Tzara, come here,” Galen said sharply.

Tzara drew her mouth into a line and then made a pout. Averting her gaze she walked forwards, carefully putting one foot in front of the other like a cat until she closed on him.

Galen swept her up and sung her face down across his lap where she dangled undignified and scowled. “Galen no,” she wailed.

Her bottom was bared in a trice and with steady sharp smacks he began spanking her soundly while she kicked her heels and tried to bear the sting in silence.

The spanking burned her for several minutes until she began to first grunt and then wail miserably with a hint of tears. By then her bare bottom was shiny red and goose flesh tight.

“Galen, Galen, my lord,” she boo-hooed with now wet eyes.

“Your defiance is over,” he snarled and found another gear to the spanking.

Tzara responded with bucking and shouting and wonder if the spanking would ever end. “You tame me, only you,” she sobbed.

“I will,” he chuckled.

Finally he stopped and she hugged into him panting hard. “Please, don’t send me away,” she sniffed.

“Shush, I would never do that,” he soothed, “Never, not for ever. But we must all do what we must. Truly I think some time at the convent will do you good.”

“B-but, not with her, please, she hates me,” Tzara sounded like a child.

“I can’t see that she is going to give you her private attention and it won’t be for long. I’ll send Lucinda with you,” he added.

Tzara pulled herself together and wriggled to sitting in his lap. “No, no my lord, I will be fine, you are right.” She did not want to drag Lucinda into her hell. Besides, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Very well,” Galen smiled. Women, they were so changeable.

“How soon do I go?” Tzara asked, holding him fast.

“Oh, no rush, a week or two yet,” Galen said as he nuzzled her.

Tzara grimaced, it looked like her life was about to change again.

The End (for now)

Vintage Sunday


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Having been out I haven’t seen much so here are a few pictures I missed and maybe you did too.

Found: AAA, Spanking Blog, StanDevlin and Dallas.

Maitland Ward Nude in Star Trek Slave Girl Costume for Comic-Con-5Sorry people. I got home on Thursday night, went straight to bed and then it was Sunday afternoon. Apparently I missed summer.

It was very Gastric.

Not quite back and as I find my hands and feet (and guts!?) I may have to direct them to work targets. So expect another slow week.

Thank you for your support.