Monday, 31 January 2011

Like mother, like daughter, part one

I suppose that even for a libertine like me having a mother and daughter combination,  with me spanking the mother whilst the daughter snorted coke and then fucking the pair of them takes some doing, and many people over the years have told me that this little history is a fantasy. Actually it really happened, but as with many of the crazier things that have taken place in my life, it could only have happened in Mexico.

In December 1994 the Mexican peso fell through the floor, to be quickly followed by what looked like the whole economy. Credit dried up overnight, debts were called in, and foreclosure became the order of the day as everyone scrambled to salvage what they could from the wreckage. For someone like me who had never trusted the peso and had a stash of dollars handy it was a fun time to be around - certainly my penis was a happy and very busy fellow. You might say that I was rocking around the cock as it were...

One man who was most certainly not rocking was Pedro Perez, as I shall call him. Pedro was tall for a Mexican at about 5' 9" but other than that he was fairly typical dark-skinned wheeler and dealer who looked like he had a lavatory brush glued to his top lip. He had made his way up from the provincial chancer that he still was at heart thanks to various dodgy government deals and now his company looked set to follow everything else down the toilet. Pedro was resigned to a life back in small town Mexico, living on a diet of beans and tortillas which is what he had grown up with.

How our paths crossed is fairly straightforward. Pedro knew me slightly as the Englishman who sold the spanking videos to either wealthy Mexicans or to equally loaded British expatriates, many of whom were bankers. Pedro needed a loan to save his neck and all doors were closed, so desperation drove him to set up a meeting with me. His idea was that I would call my friends and tell therm how upright and honourable Pedro was and one of them would then lend him the money. Told you he was desperate, didn't I?

Pedro arrived at our lunch meeting in a nice, but not over expensive bar, with a rather blousy woman of about forty at his heel. She was the usual reddish-brown, black-haired, wide hipped female such as Mexico churns out by the million. Needless to say I assumed that he had picked up a tart  and looked around for the other one, since bringing one trollop to ease the flow of discussions made no sense at all. Seeing nobody else I opened my mouth to ask where the other tart was just as Pedro took me by the hand, assured me of his gratitude at my agreeing to meet him at such short notice, and could he introduce  his wife, Maria Guadalupe, or Lupita to her chums?

So we sat down and I listened to Pedro's ideas. My role in Pedro's grand scheme was obviously going to be pretty minimal since all he wanted me to do was call people and introduce him. Once he had got his foot in the door my job was done. To be honest as the afternoon wore on I felt my irritation grow, Pedro was in no position to offer me very much since he was on his beam end financially. None of the respectable bankers would want to be seen dead in public with me, so what was I getting out of this other than a free lunch and plenty of booze which by that time I had already had?

Pedro had come prepared for this and with a smile he began to expand on a new theme, that of Lupita and her charms. As he sat back and elaborated on how great she was I realised that my fee was to be an afternoon in bed with the woman. I threw back my head and roared with laughter  at the cheek of the man and then I looked at Lupita and saw the look of utter fury in her face and I slapped my thighs in glee.

Pedro got up to go to the lavatory, giving me a conspiratorial wink as he did so. I looked  again at Lupita  and considered her for a moment. There is really only one thing worse than an old slapper gone to fat and that is a fat old slapper who has had a dose of respectability and can feel it slipping away from her. In spite of her nice clothes and expensive perfume it was obvious that whilst you can take the bar girl out of the bar you can never really take the bar out of girl. Lupita was basically some trollop who had hooked her claws into Pedro years before and was now furious at having to go back to her old trade.

I have never forced any woman to do anything that she really didn't want to do, but I do enjoy  situations like this where a trollop has to spread her thighs because all the other options facing her are even worse than polishing a knob. Grinning all over my face at her discomfort I leaned over and whispered in her ear  that we would make the sweetest music together and was rewarded by flashing eyes and a face black with anger at her situation.

"Alternatively," I told her in Spanish, "I could just take my belt to you."

Lupita did not reply but I could tell from the look on her face that our time together was going to be long and memorable.

To be continued.

Sunday, 30 January 2011

The Prefects' Lesson: classic 1970s spanking at its best

The Prefects' Lesson was shot in the mid 1970s on 16mm film and then released as an 8mm silent home movie. It cost a fortune back then to buy, but that did not stop people shelling out because for its day it was quite a treat. A sound version was later produced with a female narrator and it is this version that I have in my on-line shop.

The film is still a classic for lovers of the schoolgirl scenario with two naughty girls in uniform forced across their headmaster's knee to receive a well earned bare bottom spanking. Their troubles do not end there as they must then bend across the desk for the whippy school cane.

Thursday, 27 January 2011

Why the lack of comments?

Just a thought... We get around 300 hits a day on this blog, but during the whole of this month up to now we have had just three comments - and one of them was by me!

So what;s the deal with the silence, folks? I know that you are out there and that you spend more than a second or so on the site, so why not tell me what you think?

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

A Mexican bottom made for spanking

Mexico produces some damnably  fine and fuckable  females such as this little darling on the right. Doesn't your palm just itch to smack that high rounded rump?

Let me be honest and say that Sol is the worst kind of weasel piss that masquerades as beer in the world. Both it and Corona are Mexican copies of American piss water, which is a pity because the country produces some good glugging ales.

That said, with a rear end like that one, who cares?

A Fine Spanking For Bernadette, Part Three

I spanked Bernadette methodically, alternating one cheek with the other, and built up an increasing crescendo of smacks. I cannot remember how many I gave her, but the room resounded to the crack of my palm across her helpless buttocks; buttocks that quickly became first pink, then bright red, before finally turning to the glowing colour of hot coals.

During the whole of her well-earned spanking, Bernadette did nothing but weep bitterly and shake her head from side to side. I could hear over the racket caused by the collision of my hand with her bottom that she was trying to form words of protest in her mouth but they remained unformed and all she managed to do was issue strangulated cries as she kicked her legs in a hapless attempt to break free.

Finally, with my arm aching and my palm stinging, I brought the spanking to a close with a final flurry of hard smacks, and then I dumped Bernadette onto the floor, to weep to her heart's content. She lay there sobbing for at least five minutes, before finally rising and resting her forearms on my knees.

"Please, she said, piteously, "let me pull my knickers up."

It was a faintly ridiculous request especially since my cock had begun to harden, but I gave her my permission, and she gently reached around behind her and pulled the scanties up, wincing as they covered her ravaged bottom.

Bernadette remained on the floor, with her head down, gently sobbing to herself and stroking her bottom to ease the pain. From time to time she would glance up at me with her big tear soaked eyes, but she didn't speak, contenting herself with the glances. Eventually she moved slightly towards me and reached out towards me with her left hand. She ran it along my legs and rubbed one of my knees, all the while moving uncomfortably from side to side, wincing all the while in discomfort.

"Can I have a hug, please?"

That was all she said and really it was all she needed to say. It was just the little bit of acceptance of her naughtiness that I had been waiting for and I took her in my arms and held her close for what seemed like an age as she continued to sniffle.

Eventually Bernadette looked me full in the face and with the tears fresh on her face, she smiled at me, and cocked her head to one side. She raised her eyebrows and leaned in to kiss me, a long, lingering kiss.

When it was over I stood up taking Bernadette with me. She giggled as she saw my  erection jutting out from within my trousers. I unzipped myself and took the throbbing hardness out, to place it in her hand. She stroked me gently as I undressed her. I unzipped her dress from the back and let it fall to the floor. Her brassier was part of a set with the cream panties and that quickly joined the dress. Finally I hooked my fingers into both sides of her panties, and grinned wolfishly at Bernadette as I prepared to lower them:

"It was a waste of time letting you pull them up, wasn't it?" I asked her.

Bernadette squealed in mock outrage and I laughed and picked her up and put her into bed. Stripping off my own clothes I quickly joined her and she put her arms around my neck as I began to nuzzle and kiss her ripe breasts, taking the nipples in my mouth one at a time to harden them with my flickering tongue.

The lovemaking was slow, as it always is with a freshly spanked female. Bernadette kept her arms around my neck as I thrust my cock into her warm,welcoming body. She moved easily in time with me, her body keeping pace with mine as slowly the tempo increased.

At her moment of truth, Bernadette raked her nails deep into my back, drawing blood with them, and throwing back her head to let out the only real noise that she had made during the whole act - a long moan that came from deep within her and which was exhaled at great length. It was a primal cry of pleasure at the end of that joyous act which brought us together again as a couple after what had been for both of us, a pretty horrible day all told.

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

A Fine Spanking For Bernadette, Part Two

As might be expected, Bernadette was in no hurry to leave the car, which was fine because I was in no mood to have a debate with her. I switched off the ignition and climbed out of the car to walk around to the passenger's door. Without further ado I opened it, grabbed Bernadette by the arm, and yanked her out of the vehicle to stand her by my side with her right arm held firmly in my grasp. Then, with her arm pushed upwards in my grasp so that her shoulder was forced up and her whole body was thrown off balance, I started to march her to the door.

"I can walk by myself, thank you very much," she spat, in a quiet voice that was filled with a mixture of fury and helplessness.

"Fine," I replied. "Let's see you do it." I let go of Bernadette's arm and gave her a firm smack to the rump. Trust me she felt that smack through the thin cotton of her dress, at least if the jump she made was anything to go by.

We made it to the front door and Bernadette began to fish in her bag for the house keys. She became flustered and started to grope in the bag, so I just grabbed it from her, got the keys out and opened the door. Then I took hold of madam and pushed her into the hallway.

Bernadette had become not exactly hysterical, but had certainly reached the stage where she was no longer in control of her actions. She cast her eyes around almost in desperation, looking anywhere but straight in front of her where I stood. She hopped from one foot to another, ran her hands through her hair, and then grabbed me by the lapels of my jacket and burried her face in my chest.

"You're frightening me," she said, her voice an octave or so higher than normal.

"You should have thought about all that before you started your antics," was all I said, as I took her hand and led her upstairs. 

Bernadette's shoulders drooped as we walked up the two flights of stairs. It was as if she knew that any resistance would be futile and would have only served to earn her a harder spanking - if that were at all possible as my intention was to administer a correction that she would remember every time she tried to sit down for the next week or so.

We made it to her flat, which was basically one very large room in the old house. Bernadette wanted to fuss over things and tried to hang up her bag over the arm of a chair, and reached down to take off her shoes, but I called a quick halt to such time wasting antics and grabbed her by both shoulders, then holding her upright and forcing her to look into my eyes.

"Young lady, you know what is going to happen, and there is really nothing that you can say that I find even interesting at this point," I told her simply. Bernadette gasped and shook her head from side to side. She tried to lift her arms, but I turned, grabbing her by one wrist as I did so, and marched her over to the bed that stood in the other corner of the room. It was high enough for my purposes, and I sat down and pulled the wretched girl across my knee.

"Nooooo," she wailed, turning her head to look at me as I placed her left arm behind me back and folded the other one into the small of her back. "Please," she continued, a plea that I ignored completely as I flipped up her dress to expose her bottom, fetchingly clad in cream panties that were decorated with small rosebuds and trimmed with light blue lace, to my gaze.
Normally I lecture a recalcitrant female once I have taken her panties down, but I knew that Bernadette  would burst into tears as soon as that happened. Once she was wailing to the high heavens then I could talk until I was blue in the face for all the good it would do, so in her case the lecture always preceded the lowering of her final defences.

"Now then, little girl," I told her. "I have had a day that I want to forget,  but can't, thanks to you and your stupidity. Now I am going to give you an evening that will be just as memorable."

With that I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and calmly, inexorably, I peeled them down to mid-thigh. Bernadette began to cry immediately as I knew she would, but that didn't matter because as I cocked my right leg over her already scissoring thighs, the spanking  of the decade was about to begin.

To be concluded. . .

Monday, 24 January 2011

When Superman spanked Lois Lane

This is one of the first spanking images that I can remember seeing back in the mid-1960s. As a young fellow I was a great fan of the caped crusader and would buy a comic regularly. I can still remember my surprise when I opened the issue and saw  Lois Lane upended across Superman's knee. Of course it wasn't actually Superman who spanked her, it was the robot that guarded his fortress, but that was not important to me then:

In case you are wondering, Lois decided that she wanted to live in the fortress so Superman made sure that she did not enjoy the experience so would wish to return home as soon as possible.

A Fine Spanking For Bernadette, Part One

Bernadette... An achingly lovely girl who shared a chunk of my life for a couple of years from late 1985. As I look back down the decades I can say with all honesty that she is the one girl that I still think about with warmth and affection. It wasn't her fault that we split, nor mine: we tried our best but it didn't work out and so we sort of drifted apart.

That doesn't mean that Bernadette was perfect in every way. Far from it as like all females she could be petulant, sulky and generally difficult to handle a lot of the time. She had been across my knee on several occasions and bless her but she found the experience less than agreeable. Quite why she was unable to modify her general naughtiness so as to avoid further correction is something that I am unable to explain, mainly because I cannot get my head that far up my arsehole to make sense of many of the things that women do. That aside the spanking that I want to tell you about now was pretty spectacular and even though I am not a gambling man I would still be willing to bet money that Bernadette will remember it.

She was 25 back in the summer of 1986 which is when these events occurred. A tall, slender, size ten girl, with an infectious smile and the ruddy Irish complexion that she had inherited from both her parents who had hailed from the ould sod. She was researching her M.Sc, part-time, at the University of Manchester, worked as a secretary for Marks and Spencer and lived on the top floor of an old house in the south of the city that had been converted into flats.

Bernadette had been the perfect scatterbrain all  that evening. I had called to collect her at the agreed time to find her mooching around in jeans and a T-shirt, having quite forgotten that we were going to the theatre. So of course she needed a bath first but what was she going to do without a pound coin for the water heater?  I didn't have one either so a minor drama broke out with Bernadette sat in a chair pondering her next move until I went and got change from a nearby shop. Then she couldn't decide which dress to wear so I had to sit in a chair and be treated to a fashion show as garments were tried on and discarded. Finally she insisted, since this was the theatre and people would look at her, and no, don't ask me to explain the thought process at work there, that her admittedly luscious flowing red-brown locks had to be treated to a curling tong when still damp. And so it went on... To cut a long story short we arrived in our seats seconds before the curtain went up, Bernadette looking cool and ravishing, with me feeling like a wrung out rag.

We went to dinner afterwards and of course she couldn't decide what she wanted to eat and then went into pout mode when I called the waiter over and ordered for her. Then I was treated to a lecture on how I needed to be more understanding of her whims, and when I told her to shut her silly female mouth I was told that I was a sexist, which is true, and then the sulks started all over again.

That was pretty much it for me. I sat back, took a sip of wine and smiled sweetly in Bernadette's direction:

"Have you any idea how hard I am going to smack your bottom when I get you home?"

The couple at the next table overheard my comment, and the woman covered her mouth with a napkin to hide her smile. Her companion and I glanced at each other, with me shrugging my shoulders and him rolling his eyes in sympathy at what I was having to put up with. Bernadette had more sense than to say a word  and the rest of the meal was eaten in silence. Once it was over I paid the bill and loaded her in the car for  the drive back to her flat where retribution would follow.

Madam tried to make small talk in the car, but gave up when she realised that I was completely indifferent to her rather desperate attempts to divert my attention from the fact that I intended to take her in hand - and take her in hand pretty damn well - just as soon as we reached her home.

Eventually, but probably far too soon for Bernadette who had begun to pluck nervously at the hem of her silky cream-coloured tea dress, we reached her flat and I pulled the car into the parking area in front of the building.

"Right, young lady," I said to her. "It's showtime!"

Friday, 21 January 2011

Does anyone remember the crying women series?

I remember Crying Women 3 from the very early 1980s. It ran for about 30 minutes, but alas I have only managed to find the first ten for your delectation and delight. Still, not to worry, as the women cry - hardly as surprise when you see how hard they get spanked.

Anybody else remember this series? I only ever saw this video, but there must have been numbers one and two.

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

How to lose weight

Rather less of Raven Red than exists at the moment is due to return to the UK in July, and to ensure that her diet proceeds apace the good lady must weigh herself every Monday. A report is then sent to a rather decent fellow who, purely in the interests of Raven's health, then orders her to report for correction should her weight not have fallen by the agreed amount.

As you can see from this photo she made little or no attempt to lose weight last week with the result that her backside was blistered thoroughly. However, this week she has almost made her target weight loss and is almost safe from the paddle.

Almost, but not quite. 300 grams may not sound like much but it is enough to ensure that there will be a lowering of the panties and a reddening of the bottom once again.

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Meeting Peter Jones, the London Spank Daddy

This is Peter Jones, otherwise known as the London Spank Daddy. We met up for what turned into an alcohol fuelled business meeting last Friday. I was jet-lagged after having only just flown in the day before from Mexico, but after several pints and a reasonable lunch I was in no pain at all.

We discussed an idea of mine that would see Peter making videos under the Moonglow umbrella, and I must say the idea of bringing the London Spank Daddy and the Britain's premier spanking producers together appeals to me enormously.

Watch this space for more details!

Sunday, 16 January 2011

Great caning video

A Private Punishment was probably the best caning video produced in the 1980s.  The girl on the receiving end takes a damned fine thrashing that leaves her buttocks swollen and sore, yet the action is sensual throughout. After the camera and stopped rolling did she then receive a somewhat thicker rod? We at Urzdown Hall certainly hope so.

Thursday, 13 January 2011

Spanking a whore

Many women think that men hire working girls for sex. That is not true: we hire them so that when the sex is over they have a shower, get dressed and then off is where they fuck. In other words we don't have to pretend to be interested in their inane, superficial prattle and can get on with something useful having been agreeably despunked.

So it came to pass in about 2005 that I was walking down a street called San Pablo in sunny Mexico City when I realised that I was nursing a rather insistent blue-veiner. Luckily I was on the right street as it is wall to wall whore, so my strides took on another purpose as I looked for a trollop who would put a nice shine to the increasingly hard knob that I carried inside my trousers. I picked out a likely looking lass who was about 20 and wearing a rather fetching black Lycra mini-dress and agreed a price with her. For some reason and no matter what the exchange rate is, a San Pablo whore including hotel always seems to cost a tenner. Along with haircuts, a leg over is good value in this city.

Off we went and I quickly put her to work stroking my balls and sucking my cock. I was on my back with the girl at my side. My trousers were down to my thighs and all of a sudden I felt a hand very gently move something around on my left side.Sitting up I saw that the girl had somehow managed to unzip my trousers' security pocket and had partially removed the wallet. When I looked at her she was busily engaged in removing a note.

I couldn't help but laugh, and then I sat up, pulled my trousers back into their place and then stood the girl up in front of me. I asked her if she fancied a trip to the local ;police station? Seeing her look of amazement I hasten to inform her that I didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought about either me or my activities, and I went on to tell her that if she had previous form for thievery she could be looking at some pretty tasty time behind bars.

To give her credit, this was one trollop who was not easily fazed. She gave ma a grin and offered not only to waive her fee but also to blow me without a condom. I grinned back at her, although my smile was more wolfish than anything else and told her that she would be paid in full - after I had smacked her bottom.

She nodded her head and I pulled her across my knee. It was the matter of a moment to pull up her dress to reveal her very firm buttocks clad in a lilac thong. I then gave her twelve firm smacks on alternate cheeks.

Standing her up again in front of me I saw a look of fury on her face, mixed in with pure, insolent defiance. I told her that her expression had earned her a thorough spanking and for the first time I was rewarded by a look of concern that flashed across her face.

Putting her back in position I lifted the dress again and this time I peeled the thing down to mid thigh. She started to protest and tried to hold onto the garment, but a firm smack to the rump made her let go and the necessary preliminaries were soon completed. I really don't know why women who wear a thing that leaves the bottom bare and gives them no protection for a hard male hand still object to the lowering of that item but they do. It probably has to do with a desire to keep some measure of dignity, but I am sorry to have to tell you, ladies, that dignity is not allowed with me.

I spanked her soundly, first one cheek and then the other. My right leg was cocked over her kicking thighs and I took her right hand in my left and held it away from her bottom. She tried to use her free arm to lever herself up, but it was a simple matter to jam my left elbow into her back just below the shoulders and keep her down until I decided that the correction had been administered.

This time when I stood her up she was completely chastened and kept her eyes down as I looked into her face. I told her that she was naughty and that her spanking had been made ten times worse by her insolence following the first dozen smacks. I went on to tell her that if anyone else ever had cause to discipline her then she would not be quite so foolish. I also told her to improve her pickpocketing techniques...

The girl nodded her head, saying "Yes sir" in Spanish, over and over again in a quiet voice. I lifted her head and saw the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. . . Then I ordered her to her knees.

She gave me a very fine blow job indeed and it did not take me long to shoot my load. She went off to the bathroom and when I poked my head around the door I saw that she was slowly rubbing her bottom and looking at my handiwork in the mirror. I couldn't help buy laugh and to her credit she had spirit enough to pout and me and stick her tongue out.

In case anyone is wondering, I not only paid her, but I left her with a nice tip as well!

Monday, 10 January 2011

Great Mexico City Upskirt

The Alameda Park in central Mexico City used to be the spot where the pre-revolutionary haute bourgeoisie strutted its stuff. Today it is pretty run down but occasionally you get a pretty tourist girl walking over the metro grating when a train is passing below - as you can see the results can be quite spectacular. She is obviously a tourist because the local wenches have learned to avoid such obvious traps.

OK, so it isn't exactly spanking, but I like upskirt photos and this blog is my toy!

Friday, 7 January 2011

Let's hear it for Fenem, our kind of Feminist movement!

Everyone's favourite uncle is seriously impressed with Femen, the Ukrainian feminist organisation which aims to "build up a national image of feminity, maternity and beauty based on the Euro-Atlantic Women’s Movement's experience," whatever the fuck that means. Not that many of you will care, but let's be honest and say that the talent on display is fit, firm and fuckable, three factors which more than justify uploading the clip.

Just in case you are wondering, a Ukrainian speaker reports that the demonstration is against university lecturers who swap good marks for even better sex with their students.

Thursday, 6 January 2011

On the uses of belts

I went to an artisan market yesterday to buy a belt. The stall had any number of leather items that would be ideal for holding trousers up, but my belts have to serve a double purpose so I need something extra thick and very long.

The stall keeper was showing me his wares and I decided that there are times when discretion is really not worth the trouble so I told him the truth: that a belt for me is used for thrashing obedience into mouthy young madams when it isn't around my waist. To give the fellow credit he didn't bat an eyelid, but turned around and vanished into the interior of his stall to return a moment later with this handy item which I promptly bought from him for about £7.50.


The young female assistant rolled her eyes to heavenward   and uttered the eternal female bleat that involves the clicking of the tongue. I said to her that if she behaved then she would never have to ever feel such a thing, and to her credit she grinned ruefully and touched her bottom.

Say what you like about Mexican women they may not enjoy being kissed by the leather but they do accept that it has to happen from time to time.

Tuesday, 4 January 2011

Van Heusen shirts: made to spank in!

I used to wear Van Heusen shirts back in the day, but I don't remember this advert for them which seems to date from the early 1960s.

The nice thing about all these old adverts which featured a spanking is just how normal the event was. People who saw this poster almost fifty years ago did not think that the man was doing anything out of the ordinary. If anything it made them want to buy the shirts because they fancied being daring, audacious and bolder themselves.

Saturday, 1 January 2011

Happy New Year 2011

I went to a restaurant at lunchtime on New Year's Eve. It is one of my regular haunts when in Mexico and the waitresses have got to know me over the years. I was making my way to the toilet when one of them, chatting animatedly to her friend, backed into me, rubbing her rather luscious rump into my groin. I put my arms around her waist and told her to be careful, otherwise I would leave her "bien colorada," which roughly translates as well reddened in English, but always refers to the state of the bottom, despues de la nalguiza, as it were.

She giggled nervously, and I whispered in her ear, asking if she understood? She replied quietly, leaning against me all the time: Si SeƱor.

So nice to end the year by reminding a young chit of her place, don't you think? I trust that 2011will be as agreeable. A happy New Year to all my readers.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...