Land girls03Land girls04

Sometime ago I posted a snippet about land girls in World War II. These were young women who were either drafted or volunteered to work on British farms from 1938 to 1946 on account of the men leaving for the armed services.

As previously discussed most of these women were professional and conscientious, but I did uncover a CP related anecdote.

Here is another.

Agnes D contributing to Life Forum reported on her Great Aunt  Dagmar’s experience in the land girls.

“Aunt Dagmar said that the war was a liberating experience. At 19 she was away from her parents and earning her own money. After work there were boys and village pub, somewhere she could never have gone at home. Then on Saturday’s she said there was a village dance,”

“What shocked me though was how casually she talked about getting a ‘good hiding’ from the farmer’s wife if she got back late or was seen out kissing the boys. She used to talk about it as if it was one great lark, however this woman used to put her across her knee and bare her bottom for a spanking with bamboo-handled brush. Dagmar told me that she used to get blisters like white worms on her bum and bruises that could last for days.”

“She bore the woman no ill-will and told me it was just how things were and most of the other girls got the same. She told me ‘I usually deserved it.'”

The pictures above are for illustrative purposes only.


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I just found a few pictures, some of them you will have seen and some you might not have done.

I was prompted to look them up by a comment on a board that suggested that Secretary was the first mainstream movie to feature a bare bottom spanking of any kind.

I hoped to find evidence to the contrary, but only found two for now,  one from an unknown European movie.

Before the Hays code there were a few in the US, but they are hard to find. The difficulty is that movies released in the UK and the rest of Europe often had racier content than the movie release in the States.

Examples of this include: The Roots of Heaven, in which the flash of bare bottom was cut from the US release; the Hunted, which featured a line of women switched on the bare after their village was captured, sadly the YouTube version is edited; Nightmare at Badham County, pictured above, set in a prison in which a woman is strapped on the bare; and Tank, a movie I have never seen but includes James Gardner, a tank and a girl getting a belt spanking, which is seen from her face end of the bed only in the US version (pictured below).

movie tk015_0


Community

22May19

_1C ars_gratia_artis_by_dazinbane_dcotebe-fullview_1C callingbluff1_1C fae_bernadette_0113-630x350_1C FHS_1C lorenzo-di-mauro-bettienudestudy_1C darlings_hard_spanking_1C momma-449-051x

It is a case of all quiet on the spanking front, although that may be a reflection of how busy I have been.

I have been looking at other people’s spanking fiction and have found a few little gems. LSF have a good stable of writers and the best copy is for sale from them or Amazon (where you can sometimes cadge a freebee). There are also free stories in Library.

Another source of stories is CF Publications. They too sell on Amazon and using the Prime borrow function you can read one free per month.

If you are going to spend money going direct to the publishers rather than buying via Amazon supports them and the writers, as Amazon take 50% of the sales price.

That goes for most spanking-related publications.

Seriously many producers are up against it and if you want to continue to see decent (or indecent content) then consider paying for at least one membership. I know some people are incredibly cautious about sharing personal data, which is by and large customers biggest concern, but the big names have to and do respect the data protection laws in my experience discretion is part of the package.

It is worth me mentioning that I don’t get paid for promoting any of this stuff.

Featured images this week were found at Devlin, Dallas, FHS, AAA, Spanking Blogg and Contemporary Life.


holodeck17

Part one here

When Tzara awoke she was in bed. The honey-glow of sunlight poured through the open window emphasising the rich and red-brown panelled walls. She could even smell the wood and from outside she could hear birdsong. She sat up.

Well apparently her plan had worked, she wasn’t dead anyway. The last thing she remembered was… was Ginette walking away from her with that look of disgust. Tzara felt a wave of nausea. It had been the program, this program, it had killed the ship. The captain too, probably, but her thoughts couldn’t go there, that was too much.

“Are you feeling better?” a woman asked and a startled Tzara look around and saw Maria sitting by her bed. “You fainted.”

Tzara nodded and forced a smile. “Where is Galen?” Suddenly she wanted to be held. Once that would have been a crazy idea, but the avatar had warned that this world was real. If it looks like an elephant… she took a deep breath and smelled the trees and flowers beyond her window, and smells like an elephant. In 17 seconds she would either be dead or running for her life again from the burning wreckage of the ship, but for now she had 10 lifetimes to live out, or maybe just one long one, she didn’t really know how it worked. There was always a chance that the holo-chip and stasis chamber would survive the crash and… 3,000 years would pass every hour and rescue, if it ever came, could take weeks or months. She swallowed hard and wondered how many hours there were in a year. Who would she even be by then?

“My lord Galen is the Great Hall my lady,” Maria said, cutting into her thoughts.

Tzara nodded and wondered what Ginette and Taylor had chosen. They could have opted to sleep she realised and suddenly wished she had considered that option.

“Apart from Tzara, who has already chosen her path,” the avatar had said. Well she guessed she hadn’t had that option. She sighed.

“I should get dressed,” Tzara said.

“My lady,” Maria intoned respectfully and got to her feet.

*

Tzara swept into the room like a princess. She had just survived death and probably saved two people. For the moment she was still a senior officer and she had no time for frivolities, petty social orders or her own churning guilt.

Lord Galen, Karl, Lucinda and a few other nobles were sitting for a light repast and chatting. Set against the grandeur and the sunlight windows it was an idyllic scene. Tzara felt sick.

Galen looked up and smiled. “Come and sit down,” he said and gestured to a chair.

For the longest second Tzara wanted to run to him to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Then her heart hardened. “What a lovely spread,” she said sourly, “We are so lucky.” The captain would never eat again. She didn’t deserve this.

Galen frowned. “Moderate your tone,” he said.

“She is still unwell,” Lucinda said quickly.

“And I have the cure,” Galen said drily.

“I doubt it,” Tzara said bitterly, her words not meant for him.

Galen arched his brows and glanced at the Lord Chamberlain who shrugged.

“I think, young lady, that you need a serious attitude adjustment,” Galen scolded and stood to pull his chair away from the table.

“Yeah, that will work,” Tzara sneered, she wanted to smash everything.

Galen sighed and he caught Lucinda’s eye. The woman shrugged. Then with a shake of his head he slipped out of his coat and began rolling up his sleeves. Then to Tzara he said, “Come here.”

Tzara snorted derisively, only half aware what was about to happen. She was done with that game.

Galen regarded her sternly for a long moment and was suddenly put in mind of his sister after she had come of age. Before any marriage had been spoken of she had been a lost soul for a while and a total brat. Both mother and father had spanked her often and her hot red bottom had decorated many a room until her moods and evened out. He sat down again in the nearest armless chair. This time it was another bottom that needed attention.

One moment Tzara was standing as if on the bridge calculating her options and the next she was face down across Galen’s lap.

“No you don’t understand,” she gasped. Then she felt her skirts tugged in back and suddenly they were being rucked up. “You can’t do this, I am…” Her loose linen under garment was pulled at the drawstring and quickly went south.

Galen spanked her once sharply across the bare bottom. “Get me a hairbrush,” he barked, remembering that that was his parent’s weapon of choice for his sister. Then without waiting he made a start with the flat of his hand. “Act like a child and you will be treated like a child, here in this chamber in front of everyone.”

Tzara growled angrily and tried to break away. “Bastard,” she hissed.

“Are we really back to that?” Galen chuckled and began spanking her soundly.

“Ah, ow, no, please, please not here,” she spluttered, she was suddenly aware that all eyes must be on her and for a moment everything else was pushed from her mind.

“Oh here is just fine,” Galen told her and spanked her already red bottom again with a crisp burning impact.

By now several of those assembled were laughing openly, even the usual taciturn pages began to twitch at the mouth. From their place across the hall they could see their lord’s haughty favourite tail up and struggling across his lap, her bare bottom rapidly getting redder and redder with the rapid volley of slaps.

“No please, ow, no, ooh,” Tzara continued to protest.

“My girl I have had enough,” Galen scolded, “By the time I am done here you won’t be sitting for a while and everyone here will know it. When I am finished, and I assure you, I am in no rush, you will go and face the long wall with your bare bottom facing the high table on show for anyone coming in and out of the hall.”

“Please no, I’m sorry,” Tzara wailed; this was too much.

Just then a page scurried over and handed Galen a long handled brush, which was almost a cubit long with a striking end as large as a man’s hand. “It is a cloak brush, my lord, will it serve?”

“Indeed,” Galen said in approval as he took it.

“Oh no, no please,” Tzara protested when she looked back over her shoulder. “Please, I am sorry, I…” She did not know what was worse, the public humiliation or the prospect of that brush spanking her bare bottom.

The first spank with the brush drew a shriek and fresh twisting by the concubine. Any semblance that Tzara was or had ever been a bridge officer dissolved, like her, into tears and she began to bawl like Galen’s sister had not so many years before. Not that Ms Tzang had ever known the woman; she had yet to have that pleasure. Indeed once upon a time the poor girl had never existed, but now she was as real as anyone in the room. Certainly she was as real as the brush that now impacted the soundest spanking Tzara had ever had to her by then very sore, very red bare bottom.

Lucinda watched as the red of her friend’s behind grew darker and deeper. Rubbery welts had even begun to from along the edges of the bottom as they whitened towards tender blisters. Rather her than me, she thought, knowing that no real harm would befall Tzara, just a good old fashioned spanking that by the looks of it was long overdue. The only danger was that the red was giving way to dark plum.

“What do we think, a week, two weeks?” Karl said absently as he helped himself to an apple off the table.

“My Lord?” Lucinda asked without taking her eyes from the action.

“Until she can sit down,” the Lord Chamberlain expanded.

“Oh, three days until she can sit at all and then maybe 10 days until she wants to sit,” Lucinda said cheerfully.

“It is a wager then,” Karl chuckled.

“I have no money except yours,” Lucinda protested.

Karl grinned. “If she hasn’t sat at least once by the fourth day or is still wincing and rubbing when she thinks no one is looking two weeks from now then I will spank you…” he gestured to the sobbing kicking Tzara, “Like that.”

Lucinda was no longer smiling and licked her lips nervously. “And if she does?”

“I will buy you a gown,” Karl laughed.

Lucinda looked again on Tzara’s sore bottom, it was doubtful that wet flannels and soothing herbs would have sitting any time soon, it would be touch and go, she thought glumly.

Finally the spanking came to an end and Tzara was drawn into Galen’s arms crying loudly like a child.

“Better?” Galen asked her.

She sniffed and nodded. Strangely it was true.

“Now, over there between the two high windows opposite, you can stand nose to the wall, skirts up mind,” Galen commanded.

For second defiance touched her face, but she did not dare disobey the man whose gaze drilled into her. “Oh God,” she sniffed again and wiped her nose.

There was no dignity in it, certainly no pride, but she crossed the room with her bottom still bare and committed herself to a childish time out in front of the entire court. Once there she held her skirts up and groaned a sound of soft misery before she started to cry again.

To be continued…


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Vintage Sunday

19May19

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holdeck15

Part one here

“Tzang, where the hell have you been?” the captain snarled without looking up from his consul.

“Sorry Sir I have been…” she began, but she didn’t finish.

Captain Tassan was giving his full attention to the screen while his hands danced over buttons and pads like a pianist playing the minute waltz.

Tzara could see that the view plate was filled by the huge globe of a steel grey world that was getting ever bigger even as she looked.

“What can I do?” she asked, but all around her display boards died or flickered in haphazard ways she had only seen in disaster training.

“Not much,” Tassan sighed and finally sat back, for all his efforts he had achieved nothing. “I have uploaded the logs and maydays have been set to automatic,” he explained, “The gravity well has us and even if by a miracle the system would reboot, we will be a smear dirtside before we can hope to break free.”

Tzara gaped at the doom bellow them as it rushed towards them. Then the screen adjusted and for a second she thought they had pulled away.

“Twice magnification now,” the captain muttered.

Tzara jump on her station and ran a rapid diagnostic, “We can… shit, what about…” she ran the numbers, but even as she did so the screen quickly adjusted again and the onrush of the planet below them was seen in real size without the benefit of magnification.

“We can hold her steady just long enough for the escape pods to get away,” Tassan sounded like a man dead. He was.

“Captain?” Tzara said.

“Abandon ship,” he said.

“You’ll need help,” Tzara said and dropped into the co-pilots seat.

Officer Tyler, a young ensign moved to the system auxiliary and began activating the escape pods. It was her first mission out, and unless she fled to a pod straight away, it would be her last. Tzara had always hated the girl, not least because she was young and far too eager, but to some extent because despite cutting her hair down to a blonde buzz cut she was pretty and popular with the crew. Even now her deep blue eyes were alive with hope as if she alone could save the day.

“Captain, I have to reset the core every…” Ginette Strom looked at her chronometer and then slapped the consul, “43 seconds, or else we go into a spin and no one gets off.”

At 30-something Ginette was an old pro in the engineering team and even impending doom did not faze her.

Tassan nodded in resignation. “Good to have you aboard people,” he said.

The rest of the bridge crew stood like lost sheep as the ship began to shake. Tassan looked at them and frowned, “Go people, go, get to the life pods,” he ordered. They ran leaving him, Tzara, Ginette and Tyler to keep the ship alive.

“The first pods are away sir,” Tyler reported, “Two more,” she added excitedly and made an adjustment.

Tassan nodded gravely.

“Sir, what caused this?” Tzara asked, she had to know.

“There was a virus, hit the data core,” he shrugged, “The chief said it was of extra-terrestrial origin. It might not have mattered but for the proximity of this damn mega planet, seven times the size of Jupiter, that and the fact that the virus caused a systems drain just at the critical time.”

Tzara let her mouth hang slack and her knees sagged. “No, no, no, no,” she groaned and then in the voice of a ghost, “It’s all my fault.”

“The last of the escape pods are away,” Tyler said excitedly.

Tassan nodded. “Ladies, I thank you, head for the pods, maybe…”

“Captain, you go, I will…” Tzara urged him.

“Tzang, get the hell out of here,” he barked and then made one more adjustment to the consul.

“Time to go girls,” Ginette yelled and dragged Tzara by the shoulder.

The three of them ran, deck by deck to the pods, they ran.

“We will never make it,” Tyler panted, “Even if we do… we are already way too deep in the well.”

Tzara sucked in air staggered against a wall. What did it matter? She had killed them.

Ginette staggered to a halt to get her breath. “Tyler go, you have to try.”

Tyler paused.

Just then Tzara realised where they were. The holodeck was round the corner. The ship was dead, but in holo-stasis a body could survive almost any impact. In any case, in time dilation they could survive for years in the few moments before impact. “I have an idea,” she said.

*

“Are you crazy?” Tyler screamed, she looked ready to make a bolt for the escape pods.

“No, no she’s not, it could work,” Ginette said urgently.

“We should go,” Tyler was starting to lose it.

The tortured scream of metal shook the ship and all three women were thrown to the floor. For a second Tzara thought it was the end. They all exchanged horrified looks and gathered the breath as the ship steadied.

“Listen,” Tzara said quickly, “I have a programme, it is… it will put us into status damn near indefinitely… if the stasis field survives the crash then… we could be rescued… if not we will probably never wake up anyway. It is a long shot.”

“You talked about temporal suspension, you mean we could live a holo-life before we die or…” Ginette was a quick study.

“You got it, but wait, you have to know…” Tzara took a deep breath as she readied herself for confession.

“Save it sister, let’s get inside,” Ginette snapped and staggering against the increasing instability made of the holo chamber.

Tzara had no further chance to explain as no sooner were they through the door when Ginette engaged the still loaded program that Tzara hadn’t had time to clear.

*

The grey-clad avatar stood watching the impassively. The chamber in which they now stood was serene and they could even hear birdsong.

“Listen,” Tzara yelled at the ‘man,’ “You have to set the temporal displacement to maximum or else…”

The avatar smiled. “I understand the situation, I have set the temporal displacement to one second subjective to every giga-second ship time. You are already in stasis.”

Tzara was stunned; she couldn’t even do the math just then.

“That’s incredible,” Ginette gasped, she was actually grinning. “I never knew that was possible, how are we able to process that? I mean whatever the system can do, the human mind has its limitations.”

“Perhaps, but your consciousness had already been synthesised and attuned to ‘Galen’s World.’” The avatar reassured her.

“Galen’s world, Is that fair? They should be able to…” Tzara protested. Her two crewmates had no idea what awaited them.

“Galen’s world is the only scenario loaded and the only one that can survive given the current allocated resources.” The avatar managed to sound patronising even in his neutrality.

“Oh my God,” a confused and distracted Tyler broke in, “That’s 40 years a second,” she said, having just done the maths.

“There are some 17 seconds left to final impact, with a 43 percent probability that the stasis core will survive the crash,” the avatar explained.

“Seven hundred years,” Ginette said in a tone of absolute wonder, “Subjectively we will exist in holo-stasis for about 700 years.”

“There are some anomalies, but you will be able to select body modifications and scenario role details before you are committed,” the man said and smiled. “Apart from Tzara, who has already chosen her path.”

Tyler stood slack-jawed, just seconds before she had been dead, and now she was about to live forever; or at least potentially.

“I have to tell you something,” Tzara began.

“You caused the crash didn’t you?” Ginette said solemnly. “Even if everyone else got away safely, and that is a big if, the captain will die.”

Tyler turned on her as if the accusation was preposterous, but Tzara only nodded.

“But I still have to warn you…” Tzara blurted, the scenario is…

“I will let the avatar brief me,” Ginette interrupted her, but her eyes cut into Tzara like knives.

“Me too,” Tyler agreed.

Tzara bowed her head. “Welcome to hell,” she whispered.

To be continued


holodeck14

Part one here

Apart from the occasional teasing Tzara was largely ignored as she stood in the corner. It was humiliating but she could see how Galen thought the punishment fitted the crime and in all fairness she could not blame Lucinda for a little payback.

It occurred to her that neither Galen or Lucinda were real so neither was her shame, but so far she had not been able to get behind that idea and increasingly she was beginning to doubt that all of this was just a ‘game.’

Both Galen and Lucinda seemed fully rounded and the emotional investment in their back stories seemed unnecessarily detailed for a holodeck programme. She knew enough to know that if it needed anything like usual amount of processing power all kinds of red lights would be going off on the bridge. If that were the case then she would have been pulled out long before now.

It occurred to her that a small tweak to the system and a virtual temporal stasis could be achieved. She might live a lifetime in her holodeck break. Who would she even be when they pulled her out? As it was she had a few weeks left of subjective time and adjusting to ship life would be difficult.

If she saved the programme she could come back, she thought and then gaped into the wall. Why would she do that? Her heart raced. Here she was a slave, a punished slave and sexual plaything of fictional lord. She was helpless.

This last thought was accompanied by a huge rush of arousal and if she could but face a mirror she would have seen her eyes and mouth forming perfect ‘Os’ of surprise. She remembered vague teenage fantasies of being kidnapped by pirates and tied up, could all of this be a… she took a breath and focussed.

What was the payoff for this scenario? She had assumed a role, but there was no plot. No wider political agenda, no opportunity to do anything but remain passive. Was this just about the sex? That worked for her, but at what cost?

The total absence of responsibility had been something of a holiday, even some of the spanking had been cathartic, but… she didn’t like that train of thought and she supressed it.

“I have to live the role an accept it,” she said, finding a strange release in saying it aloud.

“What was that?” Lucinda asked, suddenly taking notice. “I hope you are not complaining?”

“No I was just… no,” Tzara told her. “How is the fitting going, from what I saw the new gown looked good?”

“I know,” Lucinda gushed, “Come and look.”

Tzara turned around and grinned. Lucinda looked amazing. Then remembering she still had a bare bottom she asked, “May I?”

“Oh yes, come here, look,” Lucinda said impatiently.

*

Days and then weeks past as Tzara learned more and more about her new temporary life. It turned out to be impossible not to get punished and although she sometimes struggled with it, it was never as bad as she might once have thought. Galen had a playful side and even suggested outings where they could ride at will through a gorgeous landscape that seemed to have no end.

She found herself thinking about it when she was alone and she even got a thrill from comparing notes with Lucinda about their men on everything from kissing to spanking, in fact most of the time she forgot that any of this was even real.

One day she and Lucinda were walking in the garden when Lucinda asked, “Do you ever get aroused when you know, you are going to get a spanking?”

Tzara stopped and blushed. “No,” she said coyly.

Lucinda regarded her seriously until Tzara cracked and giggled. “Well sometimes, when it isn’t a serious one,” she admitted.

“And after, I mean after a really sound, ‘I want it to stop, but he won’t until he is good and ready’ kind of spanking? You know, when your bottom is so sore that it throbs in more than just your tail and you are crying so hard you feel like you have been washed clean?” Lucinda had a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke.

“Yeah, I kind of know what you mean,” Tzara agreed shyly.

“Tzara?” Lucinda said suddenly, she was frowning. “Tzara, what is wrong?”

Tzara was about to say nothing when she realised that the world around her was dissolving she was suddenly standing in ultra-modern sterile room.

“What the…?” spinning around she saw a man watching her. He was bald with bland features and wore a grey one-piece suit.

“The programme has been suspended by a ship wide override,” then man said. “You are about to be pulled out.”

“What is going?” Tzara felt a sudden surge of panic and disorientation.

“There has been a primary failure of the main drive and a cascade collapse of secondary systems,” the man explained casually as if he had just told her the coffee machine was on the blink.

It had been weeks in subjective time since she had been on the bridge and she now struggled to remember what that might mean.

“An emergency diagnostic uncovered an illegal alien programme running on this holodeck; security has been alerted,” the man expanded with a verbal shrug.

“Wh-where are we… what?” Tzara was struggling to breathe.

“We are still time suppressed and will be for another two seconds, what are your orders?” the man asked.

He was obviously an avatar of the system, maybe even one generated by the programme still.

“Can you delete the evidence?” Tzara said in a gush. If the programme were discovered it was the end of her career and at least five years prison time.

“I can destroy Galen’s world and everyone in it,” the man said impassively.

“Destroy…? What do you mean?” she hated his choice of words.

“The world you created was drawn on precognitive algorithms and a macros-stasis depository of synthesised entities. The outline of that world was drawn from your subconscious and your latent desires. Once envisaged though, they have become real. The world exists within the system, all of it.” Then man did not blink once.

“You mean if I delete it, then it is genocide?” Tzara gasped.

The man nodded once.

“How is that possible?”

“The data compression on the chip you brought is virtually limitless, it has a self-renewing bio cluster,” he explained.

“Shit,” she groaned, “I am so screwed.”

Then as made of ash, the man, the room and everything around her dissolved.

The security operative standing on the holodeck floor looked totally phased. “The captain wants to see you on the bridge… hell, I think… its bad…” he rambled.

“On my way,” Tzara replied and at a run she pushed past him. She guessed that things were worse than she thought and her indiscretion was currently a low priority. She only hoped she hadn’t caused this in some way.

To be continued

 


Community

15May19

_C 14b-stagecoach-kid_C 31c-too-young-to-kiss_C bonow06x_C FHS mS_C oluhkgMwKU1rw9nsio1_1280_C stanton-spanking-fetish-01_C stella_first_spanking_P1010018

Welcome to Wednesday.

This week we have an article Vanilla Spanking about comparing spanking in movie posters with the actual spankings in that movie.

Contemporary Life has a picture collection of sore bottoms.

The Spanking Blog has some Stanton Drawings.

Other contributions are from Devlin, FHS and Dreams of Spanking.


_1 governess

Google reader has so many random publications. If you have the patience just about every newspaper and magazine ever published must be there somewhere.

This little snippet was in a small corner of The West Country Advertiser in 1886: No big story, no big scandal. Sadly the headline and the date were too blurred.

Mrs C Whitman, 38-year-old widow from Bristol, was ‘acquitted of cruelty’ after birching her servant, Miss G Gilmore, 19, whom she employed as nanny to her three children.

It seems that Mrs Whitman had repeated scolded the girl for coming home late and ‘walking out with gentleman friends.’ Then after a row Mrs Whitman ‘upended the girl’ and after baring her bottom set about giving the girl a ‘good sound beating’ with a birch rod.

Neighbours who were alerted by the screams testified that although the girl ‘looked good and sore’ no real harm had come to her and agreed with the defence that it had been no more than ‘reasonable chastisement.’

Miss Gilmore had argued that as a nanny she was a professional person and not a ‘mere maid,’ but the court rules that she was a dependent and being under 21 still subject to Mrs Whitman’s authority.

Picture above courtesy of Asa Jones.