Thursday, 30 June 2011

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Carolyn Bourne and Heidi Withers

The great thing about a cat fight is that the participants allow their inner slappers to emerge, much to the delight of the spectators. Take Carolyn Bourne (60) and Heidi Withers (29) as a case in point. Carolyn is the stepmother of Freddie who is due to marry Heidi. The older woman believes in keeping the aspidistra flying and decided to send an insulting e-mail to Heidi which laid out all the girl's faults. Heidi objected to being told about her "uncouthness and lack of grace," so she sent this mail to her three hundred or so closest friends who forwarded it to their friends - and within hours the fucker had gone viral.

God only knows what will happen in round two, but for the moment Freddie Bourne has decided that discretion is the better part of valour, whilst his father, Edward, managed to mutter: "We have nothing to say," between clenched teeth.

Tempting though it is to applaud these actions in the interests of peace and quiet, this blog feels constrained to say that both chaps are in error. Carolyn and Heidi need to be taken in hand and the pair of 'em should be given no option but to sleep on their tums and eat their meals standing up for the next few days. Take charge, gentlemen, otherwise these bloody women will be going  at it hammer and tongs forever.

Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Emma Watson

The latest Order of the Burning Buttocks is awarded to Miss Emma Watson for her failure to learn why legs should be kept together and brassieres worn.

Tuesday, 28 June 2011

Pippa Middleton to get armoured car?

Pippa Middleton may be about to take delivery of a specially armoured vehicle, presumably to protect her from the army of men who want to smack her lusciously cheeky bottom. Or maybe she is worried that the girlfriends of those men may want to get their hands on her? Let's face it, a lot of girls are getting a wee bit cheesed off with Pippamania  - as the owner of the above car found out to his cost.

Monday, 27 June 2011

Judicial Corporal Punishment of Women

The bad news for anyone interested in the judicial corporal punishment of women is that it was completely abolished in 1820. The very bad news is that it was invariably inflicted on the back, rather than the rump, although as we shall see some of the more informal punishments did involve the bare bottom.

The usual way to whip both sexes was to strip them to the waist and then tie them to either a flogging post or a cart's tail to administer the punishment. A cart's tail flogging had the decided advantage in that it could be seen by more people as the victim would usually be tied to the cart for a preliminary dose of the cat of nine tails, and then the cart would be moved to another part of town and another dose handed out in front of another crowd of eager onlookers.

In March 1817 one of the last such floggings occurred in Inverness to "a young and handsome woman" named Grant. This was the third time that she had been flogged though the streets of the town and the Inverness Journal was led to thunder that:
The spectacle of a naked woman, from the waist upwards, in the public streets, must of itself be shocking to our best feelings; and the flogging one woman three times through the streets, within a few weeks, twice in  succeeding weeks, shews the inefficacy of a punishment which must be allowed, for many reasons, to be highly objectionable.
In the short term this flogging helped to persuade Parliament to abolish the public whipping of women, but what is interesting from our point of view is that the account confirms that when a woman was judicially flogged it was always on the back.

Women did not serve in the military, but throughout history they have followed the armies as they trailed across the countryside. The Duke of Cumberland during the 1745 campaign against the Jacobite army of Prince Charles Stuart was the first commander to try to bring some kind of order to camp following with his instruction that any woman who ventured beyond the baggage train would be flogged.  Although not a part of the army, the soldiers' women were subject to its discipline, and that discipline was usually administered to the bare bottom.

So when the army rested one day a woman decided to steal from a house, whereupon as General Pulteney related to Cumberland over dinner, she "had her tail immediately turned up before the door of the house where the robbery was committed and the drummer of the regiment tickled her with 100 very good lashes."

Fast forward fifty years to the Peninsular Campaign and recalcitrant women were liable to "a dozen on the bare doup from the drum-major's cane." That was probably for looting as Wellington the army commander was always complaining about the actions of the army harridans. Later on in the campaign a gang of such creatures were found looting a store and being unable to run very fast owing to their long skirts were quickly apprehended.  Another Scottish onlooker recorded that they received 36 with the cat of nine tails, also on the "bare doup."

These canings were obviously a common occurrence in the army because the soldiers who commented on them do not give the impression that they are in any way out of the ordinary. On the other hand they were recorded in soldierly correspondence which is why we know about them. The reason for that seems to be that they were  regarded as ribald entertainment and groups of men would gather around to watch a brawny-arsed camp wench get her just deserts in the traditional manner.

Which is how it should be.

Unless otherwise indicated, the main source for this posting was:

Holmes, Richard; Redcoat: The British Soldier in the Age of Horse and Musket, Harper Perennial, London, 2001, P. 295.

Sunday, 26 June 2011

Tennis Caning

This latest addition to the clips' site is actually brand new and was given to me as a gift by Moonglow, the outfit which produced it. The clip is a delight and features a mature woman who is fantasising about a tennis lesson that ended up with her bent over for the cane. As the caning reaches its climax so does she - and so will you when you watch Tennis Caning!

Friday, 24 June 2011

Keira Knightly is spanked in A Dangerous Method.

Keira Knightly has her backside belted in a new Hollywood production called A Dangerous Method, due for release in February 2012. Does this mean that spanking is continuing to make a comeback to our screens? Well, BDSM certainly is, but that is far removed form the Golden Age of cinema spanking that lasted until the 1960s when saucy females were routinely upended across heroes' knees. Still, mustn't grumble.

The big question is couldn't they have found an actress with a fuller figure that this bony bummed bird?

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

Editor or editrix wanted urgently

As many of you will know I have written my memoirs under the title of  A Spanking Good Life. The manuscript runs to 65,500 words and has to be submitted to the publisher on Sunday evening. I have just given it a final dusting, but I am looking for volunteers who will read through it and see if they can spot any grammatical howlers, or stylistic errors.

This is your chance to be an editor or editrix, ladies and gentlemen. Just drop me a line and I will send you the MS as an e-mail attachment. All I ask is that you get your comments back to me by Saturday at the latest.

What do you get out of this? Aside from my undying love, of course, you get to read the book before anyone else and you can look forward to a free signed copy when it is published. Er, that's it...

Was Laura Holland spanked by her boss at Cathelco Ltd?

Was Laura Holland, a sales executive in the spares division at Cathelco Ltd, a Chesterfield based company, spanked by her boss, Pete Smith? That is the question that we have been waiting to have answered since November of last year when Angelina Ashby's claim for constructive dismissal was aborted on procedural grounds. The case is now being considered and we await the outcome with baited breath.

The problem is that Angelina has claimed that Laura was upended and spanked by Pete, as part of the picture she wishes to paint of a laddish atmosphere that was prevalent in the company. We do not know if it is true or not, and it does not look as if Laura will be called in to testify.

That said, she is a minxy little thing, isn't she? And even if she wasn't chased around the office and then put over Pete's knee for a good spanking, she probably should have been.

Two Fucks, One Suck and a Spanking, Part Four

Xochitl duly left the country and Svetlana went off to bang her brains out in another part of the city, so that left me free to try and repair the damage done to my affair with Rose. My task was not made any easier by the fact that I had no clear idea why she was so upset. To be honest, given that she was married, what was she complaining about if I had a couple of extra pokes as well?

We continued to see each other for another month or so, but the joy had clearly gone out of things as far as Rose was concerned. I remember one night when we were making love she turned her head to one side and looked at the wall, completely oblivious to what was going on.

I became immediately concerned that something had happened to my cock, otherwise why was she not taking her pleasure from it? I asked her about it and she smiled a mirthless smile and told me that it was just the same as normal. Thinking that she had got bored with the position I switched her around for a doggie style fuck, but she said that was not what she wanted. Thinking quickly I remembered that she liked me sat up on the edge of the bed with her sat with her back to me, so she could watch herself being fucked like that in the mirror. I got her into position and everything seemed to be fine until Rose broke down in tears which rather brought the proceedings to a halt.

With a sigh I went and fixed us both a whisky and soda, and lit two cigarettes. Then I waited a moment until Rose had taken some of the drink and followed by a long pull on the cigarette. Then she looked at me tearfully.

"The romance has gone," she said, very quietly.

I shook my head, not understanding. I was still thinking that something had gone wrong with my cock, so why had Mills and Boone suddenly been brought into the equation?

"The romance, the joy, the delight - call it what you want. It was there, with you," she said, gesturing at me. "I have sex with my husband on Friday or Saturday evenings, usually. Never both. He wears blue and white striped pyjamas," she went on irrelevantly. "And takes the trousers off when he wants sex."

"Did you see yourself leaving him for me?"

Rose shook her head.

"Then how can you complain about me fucking someone else?"

"I can't," she had the honesty to reply. "But you have taken the romance out for me."

So that was that. We never formally split up and we carried on seeing each other  until my Certificate in Further Education was awarded to me. Then I had a freshly minted set of academic credentials and no job. So I decided that I would go to Mexico, a country where I spent the next two decades. At least the beer was cold and the women were the exact opposite.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Country Cottage

This is an absolute gem of a clip from the very dawn of the video age. A very pretty young girl in a sweet gin ham dress is ordered to bend over for a taste of the hairbrush across her bare bottom. Download this classic clip right now:

Two Fucks, One Suck and a Spanking, Part Three

As I drove over to see Xochitl, the idea came to me that since she only had another two weeks in the country before she went back to Mexico I would ask her to kindly keep her mouth shut for that length of time. I would then keep away from the college during working hours and everything would be fine. I could see Rose on our usual days, and Xochitl and Svetlana at other times. All in all it struck me as a rather civilised solution to the problem - more fool me for thinking that anything is ever simple where women are concerned.

I arrived at Xochitl's rather nice service flat and parked the car in her bay. I can distinctly remember pausing to spark up a cigarette before strolling across the carpark to the building's entrance without a care in the world. Xochitl had given me the code that opened the main door and I wandered in to the main hallway and then up the stairs to her first floor flat without any inkling that things were about to go pear-shaped.

"Hello, my love, it is wonderful to see you," said Xochitl as she let me in to her flat. Yes, I remember thinking, we really have to work on that conversational manner to avoid sounding so wooden.

"We have a problem," I told her after the great smacking kiss was over.


"Rose knows about us. Any idea how that came about?"

"What do you mean by that?"

Whenever a woman answers a question with a question alarm bells should start ringing in a man's head. It means that the little darling has something to hide and she is angling to find out what you know so that she can trim her story accordingly. Alas it does not work with me...

I sat Xochitl on my knee for a spot of gentle interrogation. Yes, it emerged that she had told a few close friends about our affair. A few close friends? Well, actually most of the female students at the college. And the female teachers. And the secretary. Had she heard rumours about my affair with Rose? Of course not and perish the thought! Well, actually she had heard a few rumours and Rose and I had been seen out and about by a secretary's second cousin who just happened to be...

As always with a woman the prattle just seemed to be never ending, but the gist of it was that Xochitl had been blabbing all over town so of course Rose had been given the full story, probably be several people.

There was really nothing more to say, was there? With a sigh I pushed Xochitl off my lap and stood up to leave.

"Where are you going? Women do ask the daftest questions at times, they really do.

"I am off to sort out the mess that you have helped to create with Rose."

"You are leaving me to go to her - you can't do that!" To prove her point Xochitl wrapped her arms around my neck and began to nuzzle my ear.

I tried to get her off me, but the more I untangled her from me the greater became her efforts to remain tangled.

"Listen, you bad bitch, the trouble that you have caused probably can't be fixed, but I am going to have a try."

"Yes, yes, I am a bad bitch and I am a very, very sorry bad bitch." Xochitl looked up at me with her head slightly down, so that she had to turn her eyes right up. The effect was a delight, as it was meant to be.

"Listen, young lady, if I do carry on with you then there must be no repetition of your silliness, do you understand me?

"Yes I do. I am very sorry. Are you very angry with me for being bad?"

"What do you think?"

"What are you going to do to me?"

"What do you think"

I took Xochitl's arm and marched her over to the sofa. Sitting down I yanked her across my knee and cocked that all important right thigh over her already scissoring thighs and quickly clamped her arms behind her back. Then I raised that oversized T-shirt and left the cotton bunched up around her waist. The white thing that she was wearing gave her bottom no protection at all, but be that as it may it had to come down just to teach madam that whoever was in charge it was not her.

She began to wriggle like an eel even before the first smack had landed, but once it had then the wriggling was joined by some pretty frantic kicking. It was all a waste of effort, of course, because I had her firmly in position and she was going nowhere until I decided that the spanking was over.

Although I say it myself, I laid that smacked bottom on with great gusto. First one cheek and then the other came in for the attention of my palm that cracked down with all the force of my arm behind it. I can distinctly remember that going from the top of her rump to the bottom was three smacks on each cheek and spanked Xochitl with groups of six smacks, to cover her whole bottom with my hand and then start the procedure all over again.

I built up a steady spanking rhythm and for the next few minutes only sound in the room was the crack of my hand against Xochitl's defenceless buttocks and her squeals of anger, outrage and then, finally, her tears of bitter remorse.  Normally I bring a spanking to a close when the recalcitrant female who is on the receiving end bursts into tears but that day's spanking was a special event so my arm continued to rise and fall as Xochitl's howls gave way to great gulping sobs and eventually she stopped wriggling and her legs ceased to kick and she lay across my knee, thoroughly chastised and totally humbled.

My arm was aching when I dumped Xochitl onto the floor and lit a cigarette as she howled her cries of tearful remorse into the carpet. I sat there quietlly letting my weary arm rest whilst Xochitl went through the usual female performance of sobbing her heart out, obviously in a futile attempt to gain sympathy.

Eventually, about the time I stubbed out the remains of the cigarette, Xochitl's sobs lessened and I was able to pick her up and carry her off to bed.

I will not pretend that it was the greatest sex that I have ever had, because it was the third time around for me that day, but I don't think that I let either myself or England down with my performance. Xochitl certainly moved around rather nicely, although her burning buttocks may have contributed to that movement. When it was all over we lay in each other arms and fell asleep.

It had gone dark when the telephone rang and I dimply heard Xochitl pick up the receiver and tell someone that of course she would pass on the message.

"That was Rose," she told me. She said that you should not forget your class tomorrow morning."

I looked into Xochitl's face and saw a  butter would not melt in her mouth expression on it and I decided that it was all too much effort. So I turned over and went back to sleep. Tomorrow could take care of itself as far as I was concerned.

To be concluded

Monday, 20 June 2011

Two Fucks, One Suck and a Spanking, Part Two

I could tell that Rose was frisky because she kept coming into my class on various spurious pretexts to give me an order or two. Then, during a coffee break she grabbed the three or four teachers who were around and gave us a lecture on some failing or other. Not that I was taking a blind bit of notice as I was too busy admiring the way she strutted backwards and forwards in her trademark high heels, a fitted black skirt with red pinstripes clinging to her rounded buttocks. Occasionally she would pause and cross her arms over her puppies to ask if we were all on  the same page or working to the same programme?

God know where she got the dialogue from but it was days like that which made me a confirmed believer in feminism. Just the sheer joy of taking orders from a woman all day and then fucking her brains out all night is something that previous generations had never experienced.  Today, of course, women like Rose are common but they were still a bit of a novelty in 1989 and believe me the performance never failed to give me a serious hard-on.

So much of a turn on was it that I found it hard to concentrate on the remainder of my class and as soon as it was over I went looking for Rose with a view to riveting her rigid even thought the place was full of people. She must have had the same idea because the secretary gave me a note which simply said "flat" so I took my raging stand upstairs to find Rose waiting for me in the bedroom.

"Close the door," she said, her voice thick and heavy. I did just that and then I walked towards her as she stretched out her arms for our embrace.

We kissed each other hungrily, and my hands went down her body to take that firm luscious rump in my grasp. I ran my hands all over it and felt Rose's suspender belt through the material of her skirt. I pulled the garment up around her waist and cupped her pussy in my hand. It was so hot I couldn't believe that she could be ready for me so I slipped my gingers inside her black knickers to check. Yes, oh yes, she was more than ready for my cock.

I stripped Rose of her panties and balled up the frothy confection to hold up to my nose to smell its sweet fragrance, which was a mixture or Rose's perfume and the woman herself.

"Nooooo," she said, in mock outrage. "Give them to me!"

I threw the knickers down and pushed Rose onto the bed. Quickly I unhooked my belt, unzipped my trousers then then pushed them down. Within seconds I was between her thighs and then without any further help my cock just seemed to find its own way into the opening in Rose's thighs and with one push I was home.

She lifted her legs to ease my passage and I began to have her, slowly at first, but then building up the velocity to the killing strokes as Rose urged me on the fucker her harder, harder, harder.

I lifted myself up on my arms so that I could look down at her and I saw her with her shoes still on her feet and her skirt around her waist and her white blouse still tucked into that skirt. It was a wonderful sight, that of a businesswoman with her clothing in partial disarray as she was given a good fucking. It was that sight more than anything else that drove me close to the edge.

"I can't hold it any longer," I cried.

"Don't, don't hold it! Give it to me! Fill me up!

So I did. I increased the speed and the come juice began to flow for the second time that day.

We lay quietly in each others arms, but not for as long as was normal after a bout had ended. Rose tried to push me away, and when that didn't work - because I was too fagged out to even consider moving - she breathed heavily and stroked my hair.

"What have you been up to?" Her question was spoken quietly, but there was an air of menace in it which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"What do you mean"

"You have been with someone else today. You only came a drop and I can smell her on you! I thought that the stench was from one of the students in class, but it isn't is it"

Rose managed to push me off and she sat up on the bed with a look of cold fury on her face.

"Who is it? That red nigger bitch from Mexico? She's been telling everyone that she sleeps with you!" Rose paused to collect her thoughts and then she hit me with what amounted to the clincher: "You gave her a spanking, didn't you?"

My face must have registered surprise, because Rose clambered out of bed and smoothed down her skirt. She clenched both her hands into fists and jammed them on her hips, and stood there, legs apart, to face me.

"You stupid, northern shit! She is gloating about you all over the fucking college. Telling everyone what you get up to. You took her back to your college room and spanked her, and then you fucked her," Rose concluded, finally.

She fell on the floor and started to sob. Great gulping sobs and I wondered if she would ever be consoled. Eventually, when the sobs died down, I took her in my arms and spoke to her quietly:

"Rose, you have a husband and family. Have I ever asked you not to be fucked by your husband?"

"Is that because you don't give a damn what I get up to when I am not with you?" Jesus, this was turning into a soap opera, it really was.

"Listen, I will handle the matter, just trust me."

"I need the money that the little third world cow brings in. She and all of them. What are you going to do?"

"I am going to have a serious talk with that young madam, you mark my words."

To be continued.

Sunday, 19 June 2011

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Leena Puddick

Meet Leena, the wife of Ian Puddick, a plumber with the biggest set of balls in Britain. Leena was a very naughty girl indeed when she started having an affair with her boss, a city banker named Tim Haynes. Ian found out about her activities and Haynes seems to have used his influence with the City of London police to give Ian a level of grief that would have broken a lesser man. However, Ian is made of stern stuff and he saw off the forces of darkness, in the process demonstrating that Tim Haynes is actually a right little banker to be sure. And getting his wife back, which has to be the icing on the cake to Ian, who is no doubt demonstrating to Leena even as I write these words, just what a plumber's plunger is actually used for.

That said, Leena did cause all this trouble in the first place and really should not be allowed to escape unpunished. She is very pretty and is no doubt used to twisting men around her little finger. Let's hope that Ian reads this posting and realises where his husbandly duty lies.

Two Fucks, One Suck and a Spanking, Part One

As the summer of 1989 reached its height my course was about to come to an end and with it the state's largesse, so I needed to decide what I was going to do for money once that terrible day of reckoning arrived. Rosa offered me a job at her college and told me that I could use the little flat, which was nice of her you have to admit. I was mulling the idea over when the gates of hell opened to release several demons all of whom were carrying large buckets of shit which they then proceeded to pour all over me.

Shit Day, as I now call it, began normally enough with me returning from my shower in my bath robe to find Svetlana in my room, smoking one of my cigarettes, having helped herself to a coffee from the percolator that I kept on my writing desk.

"I vish to go to Brighton. How far is Brighton?" Say what you like about Sveta, but she never beats about the bush.

"I dunno, a couple of hours from London by car," I told her.

Svetlana pursed her lips, and then considered her position for a moment. Finally, her mind made up, she reached inside my bath robe and took my cock in her hand. With a few expert pulls she quickly had me standing to attention and then she set to work with a good steady stroking rhythm that made me groan with pleasure.

"You gif me ride to Brighton and I gif you good hand job."

"Fuck that - I give you a ride and you give me a full fuck. A ride for a ride, darling."

"You haf condoms?"

Of course she had her own as a trollop without condoms is like a carpenter without his saw, but it was worth a try on her part. I was about to push her away and tell her no deal when she came up with a decent compromise.

"I gif you blow job and swallow the come."

"OK, and I give you a ride to Brighton but you pay the petrol."

"Nyet, but I gif you extra blow job in car going to Brighton."

"It's a deal - get sucking."

Thus are matters settled by two people who understood each other perfectly. Sveta got on her knees, gave me back the remains of my cigarette and then swiftly sucked me down the road to glory. Her tongue flickered over my cock head and then she took the whole shaft in her mouth in one deft deep throat move, before moving on to let her tongue slither along the canal that runs along the  underside of a man's weapon. I suppose that most men have been sucked off by their wives and girlfriends, but trust me when I say that unless you have placed your tool in the mouth of a genuine professional then you have really never been sucked at all.

I tried to hold back the tidal wave, but Sveta was too cute for that. She had been fondling my balls throughout and when she felt them begin to move as the hot syrup inside them began to boil, then she redoubled her efforts until the gates opened and the surge began. And I came...

Svetlana climbed to her feet and we arranged our little Brighton trip. Once she had left I quickly got dressed and had breakfast before wandering off to the car park to pick up my vehicle and drive it over to Rose's college. The plan was to teach a class and then give Rose a lesson of a more intimate nature. With that in mind I fired up the engine and slipped the car into gear and headed off to the college.

To be continued

Saturday, 18 June 2011

The Svetlana Interlude

Xochitl was not the only expensive diversion that I had that summer because Rose decided that getting knobbed by her toyboy was not enough, and she announced that we needed to get out more. What she meant was that she wanted me to take her out more - the we part was just added for effect. So with both Rose and Xochitl pestering me to squire them around my wallet began to take a serious hammering that summer of 1989.

Most people did not have mobile phones back then so I remember the irritation that I felt when  someone knocked on my door and said that I had a phone call. Picking up the public 'phones receiver in the kitchen a man's voice came over the line asking me to confirm my name. Then he mentioned a few mutual acquaintances, people who had given him my name, and then he went on to offer me £50 plus expenses a night cash in hand to drive a whore around London and make sure she did not get up to any mischief!

To say that the idea was jaw-dropping would be to put it mildly. I had never heard of such a thing, and why would anyone want to go to the expense of providing a trollop with a car and driver?

The explanation was that I would be driving a Russian girl around. Now today we are used to Russian whores everywhere, but they were a genuine novelty in 1989. Svetlana was one of the first to make her way illegally to the UK and had quickly started earning a living on her back. Although the Russians had only been in London for a couple of months they had already built up a reputation for chicanery, but they were popular with the customers, all of whom seemed to want their knobs polished by a Russian girl. So the agencies could not just get rid of them, but the classier ones hired men like me to drive them around and generally keep an eye on them.

I must have sounded dubious about the offer because my interviewer came out with the deal making clincher: I could have a freebie with the girl of my choice once a week. How could I refuse such an offer? So that evening I took my car over to the central London agency to be introduced to Svetlana, my new charge.

Fellows, she was a shagging man's delight! Twenty years old, tall and slim, with blonde hair that hung in great waves right down to her bum. Since the colour was natural I remember thinking that to get to that shade of blonde a passing German soldier had to have taken a fancy to Sveta's grannie back in the day.

Taking delivery of Svetlana I could feel my cock perking up at the sight of her as she climbed into my car, displaying rather a nice amount of leg as she did so. I remember thinking that this job was going to be a dream, which is a pity as it turned out because by the end of the day Svetlana and I cordially loathed each other.

The problem  was that from the start she was trying to pull a fast one and to make matters worse she tried to involve me in her wheeze, running her fingers over my cock and whispering that if only I would do this or that then all the riches of the earth would be mine. I told her that I wasn't interested and she refused to accept that and redoubled her efforts to seduce me.

"You vant fuck me, don't you? I can tell the vay you look at me," she breathed.

"I will fuck you," I told her by way of reply.

"No, not unless ve do beeznez," she retorted, before leaning over to breath heavily into my ear. Say what you like about the Ruskies, but nobody can accuse them of subtlety.

I let her babble on and the very next day I wandered into the agency and told the old bawd who managed the place that I wanted Svetlana as my freebie. You can imagine Sveta's face when she entered the room to find me, bollock naked and rampant waiting for her.

Obviously she hated me for that, which was fine because by then I did not like her all that much, either. On the other hand you don't have to like a woman to fuck her so long as she has a nice juicy pussy. Come on, fellows, you know it's the truth.

Gradually Svetlana stopped complaining about my failure to dance to her tune and I stopped teasing her about having to give me for free that which she had offered up as a bribe, and we sort of became friends. She would occasionally either call me up or sometimes even arrive at my student room when she was after something. I would give her a poke and then drive her wherever she wanted to go, or feed her in a nice restaurant.

It was this casual affair that led  to everything exploding for me in London, which in turn led to me upping sticks and moving to Mexico, but that is another tale for another posting.

Friday, 17 June 2011

Xochitl's Tale, Part Four

Xochitl clothed was a delight to view, but naked she was a pornographic fantasy. As the last of the sun's rays shone though my window and onto the bed they reflected off Xoxhitl's lustrous skin and made it almost translucent. I sighed with pleasure at the sight and wrapped the lovely lady in my arms and kissed her gently.

I was expecting madam to behave in the quite, submissive way that freshly spanked females often adopt, but she had a surprise in store for me. As our lips met in a gentle kiss she reached down with a hand and cupped my balls. then, incredibly, her hand began to move underneath my balls and make its way slowly behind me. Her middle finger extended, and I remember my sharp intake of breath as I realised what she planned to do. I arched my back to make it easier for her as that middle finger entered my hole and gently began to lazily turn circles just inside me.

The groan that escaped from my lips was genuine and unforced. I looked into Xochitl's face and saw desire mixed with amusement written all over her features. I smiled back in recognition that she had turned the tables on me rather nicely. Clearly, Xochitl was a girl who was only too happy to take another route if her preferred pathway was blocked. She had tried the coquettish approach and her bottom had paid the price. Now she  was about to become my very own courtesan, if I was lucky, so I let my body fall back onto the bed to give her all the room to manoeuvre that she could possibly want.

You may wonder what I was playing at, but relax: I hadn't gone soft in the head. So long as at the end of the day a woman does as she is told then I am only too happy to let her take control in bed. I am actually rather too liberal for my own good at times because if a woman is very good horizontally then I am usually only too happy to do what she wants vertically. Xochitl had obviously grasped this basic male fact and was honing in on it with a vengeance.

She took my cock in her mouth and deep-throated me expertly. Her fingers were like butterfly wings on my balls and then I felt that magic middle finger insert itself inside my once again - and this time it went right in!

Xochitl sucked my cock and finger fucked me all the way to glory. I remember feeling my juices beginning to bubble and for a second I was tempted to push her onto her back, pause a moment to let the raging torrent suside, and then rivet her rigidly, but then I decided not to bother. As the fuck it principle kicked in I felt my cock muscles relax and the boiling juices began that remorseless rise through my cock and out into Xochitl's eager mouth. I grabbed her hair at the very moment of truth and held her head over my hardness so that she would continue sucking out every last drop of my cock oil.

"Will you take me to a nightclub?" The voice was chirpy and so full of life that I could not help but laugh. Of course I would, later...

I was still a little curious to know why Xochitl had zeroed in on me, so I took the opportunity that the rest provided to ask some roundabout questions. The answer lay in her background. Xochitl's mother had been very poor and had managed to hustle her way into a job as a secretary that had, fortuitously, brought her into contact with a seriously wealthy businessman who had made her his permanent mistress. In the fullness of time Xochitl had arrived on the scene and the father had ensured that she received a good education in schools that were as far away from his legitimate family as it was possible to get. Every year daddy packed her off to London for a couple of months to study English and all madam was doing was putting into practise with me the techniques that she had learned from her mother. I must say it is nice to hear of a mother passing her trade skills down to her daughter...

Obviously, given this, Xochitl was going to be an expensive hobby, which was the reason why I ended up running a Russian whore named Svetlana around the city, and indirectly why everything fell apart, but that was in the future. For the moment I felt like a dog with two dicks as I serviced Rose and Xochitl, depending upon what day of the week it was.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

Xochitl's Tale, Part Three

The tube trundled its way towards my station with Xochitl fidgeting at my side, her tongue licking her lips constantly, and her fingers playing with the hem of her dress. Occasionally she would try to engage me in chatter, but by and large I ignored her which served to make her even more nervous. I must admit that I do so enjoy it when a naughty girl gets into that state as I just know that her panties are moistening nicely in terrified anticipation of what is to come...

"What was it you called me? Pocahontas? What does it mean?" Xochitl's questions brought me out of my erotic revere, and I half-turned to face her.

"She was an American-Indian princess who married an English colonist in Virginia," I told her.

"An Indian? But I am not an Indian, look at me," she said, jiggling her puppies for effect.

"You have red skin, so you look like an American-Indian," I said.

"Nooo, that is not important. Look, I have short hair, it only comes down to my shoulders. Indian girls have long hair. Mine is nicely curled and Indian girls have theirs as straight as straight can be." Xochitl paused at that point and sat back with a smile on her face as if she had scored a major point.

"Indian or not, you are still going over my knee," I announced.


And so it went on with Xochitl desperately trying to change the subject all the way back to my room in that dreary little polytechnic. It was with a sigh that I opened my door and pushed madam inside. Closing the door behind me I took off my jacket and made a great song and dance about removing a cuff-link and rolling up my right sleeve. I then strode purposefully over to the bed and sat down on it.

I have to be honest and say that I had started to enjoy myself no end. I must admit that the look of a female's face when she knows that a bonfire is about to be lit under her skirt is one to gladden the heart of the most jaded of spanking men and I for one have never tired of seeing it, and believe me when I say that I was looking at just such a face that night. I lifted up my arm and then pointed to my knee in an unmistakable gesture that she should lower herself over it.

To my amazement Xochitl walked over to me. I could not believe my eyes, as nothing like that had ever happened before. I had placed many a recalcitrant female across my knee and paddled obedience into her, but I had always had to put them into position across my knee and here to my utter delight was a young women walking submissively towards me and then standing so close next to me that her dress brushed against my leg.

I looked up at her face, saw how she bit her lower lip, and then I looked into her eyes to discover that tears were welling up inside them already.  A man would have to be an utter shit to take advantage of a woman who was in such a state, but luckily for you, readers, I am a shit indeed, so I grabbed Xochitl's arm and pulled her gently over my knee. As soon as she was in position I lifted up that frothy gold-green dress and left its skirt bunched about madam's waist. Glancing down I was delighted to see a perfectly formed pair of tight buttocks clad in black panties that had what seemed to be knotted strings on either side of them. If I grabbed hold of those strings and tugged, would those knots come undone or were they for show? I decided to find out and was delighted to see that the knots were genuine and once they were undone all I had to do was pull at the back of the panties and the lush red bottom beneath was immediately exposed.

What a sight that bottom was! An absolute delight and such a pretty colour as well. Xochitl may have gone to great lengths to pursued me that she was not actually an American-Indian, but from my point of view she looked like Geronomo's youngest sister. I wondered if it was going to be possible to redden that bottom any more than nature had already left it? Then, with that thought in mind I raised my right arm and brought it down with a solid crack across Xochitl's helpless buttock cheeks.

I spanked her soundly because I wanted her to know that silly female games would not be tolerated, but I would not say that I was cruel to her. After about a dozen smacks well laid on to alternate cheeks I paused my labours for a moment and considered my handiwork. Her bottom had certainly reddened under my ministrations so the fear that a Mexican bottom would not colour under correction was unfounded.

What amazed me though was Xochitl's reaction to having her bottom smacked, or rather, her lack of reaction. She was not trying to be brave - I have experience of that silliness and can usually smack it out of a girl - because she was sobbing quietly. However, she made no move to protect her bottom, nor did she try to escape her punishment. Instead she lay quietly across my knee awaiting whatever fate in the form of my right hand bestowed upon her.

I was puzzled by this display and I decided there and then that some close questioning of Xochitl was going to be needed later on. However, first things first, as I raised my hand again and delivered a blistering two or three dozen slaps to that delightfully upturned rump and was rewarded by the sight of it gyrating frantically to avoid the  hard palm that descended with remorseless efficiency to blister a bottom and to teach its owner the correct way to behave around me.

Xochitl was then allowed to rise, which she did, sitting on my knee with her head resting on my shoulder. She sobbed very quietly without any of the hysterics that women often treat men to when they are freshly spanked and want sympathy for their plight.  Xochitl by way of contrast behaved with great dignity, and had accepted her spanking with only the absolute minimum of fuss. As I undressed her for bed I reflected that a man's life would be so much easier if all women could take a leaf from her book.

To be continued.

Wednesday, 15 June 2011

Xochitl's Tale, Part Two

The following evening I turned up at the bar where I had arranged to meet Xochitl and sat myself down with a bloody big gin and tonic to wash the taste of students from my mouth and to await the arrival of madam. The appointed hour arrived, and then went, and by a quarter past the appointed hour my glass was empty so I went to the bar and bought another snifter. That in its turn was almost gone when she arrived, looking delightful I have to admit in a lovely summer dress that was far too bright for an English girl to wear but which looked lovely against Xochitl's lustrous red skin. She sat herself down after having first given me a kiss on the cheek, languidly crossed one leg over another, ran her fingers through the mountain of deep black curls that hung in waves to her shoulders, and then idly fingered one of her large gold hoop earrings.

"I want a drink, please," she said at length.

"What would you like?"

"I don't know. You're the man - you choose."

I wandered over to the bar and got her a vodka and tonic with plenty of ice and another glass for myself. Returning to our table I placed the drinks down and resumed my seat, lighting a cigarette as Xochitl took a long pull on her drink.

"How did you know that this is my favourite? She held her glass up, with lips pursed, and then without further ado she reached over and took my cigarette and smoke it herself.

As I looked into a pair of eyes that sparkled with mischievous delight, I realised that I was about to go into action against an expert player. I did not for a moment believe that vodka was her favourite tipple, and suspected that she would have said that about any drink that I had given her. The trick with the cigarette was hackneyed, but she carried it off very well, and viewed overall Xochitl, gave the impression of being a young women who was experienced enough to be able to judge the weight of a man's balls with one glance.

That she was after a man who would show her a good time and spend an arm and a leg on her was pretty obvious, and the fact that she had chosen me as her dupe was also as plain as the balls on a dog. The only question that I needed to ponder was whether she would fuck to order in return for the contents of my wallet, or was she a prick-teaser who got turned on by making men yap at her heels like little doggies seeking a table scrap? I decided that this question needed answering that night and Xochitl's late arrival gave me the perfect opportunity to see if she could be brought to heel or needed to be dumped.

"You arrived late," I started the ball rolling by reminding her of that fact. "Thirty minutes late," I concluded, keeping my voice cold and low.

Xochitl went into girly mode and began to giggle, crossing and uncrossing her legs, all the while twirling her hair in her fingers. She cast her eyes downwards and then looked up at me all the while keeping her head down. Once she saw that I was indeed looking at her she looked away quickly, a nervous smile on her lips. As I said, Xochitl knew how to play a man, and it took all my willpower to avoid ruining things by smiling at her playfulness

"I really don't find anything at all amusing," I said, reaching over to take each of her wrists and hold them down in her lap. As I did that I leaned forward to bring my face closer to hers.

"You little antics have earned you a smacked bottom," I went on remorselessly. I was about to say more when I saw a quizzical look on Xochitl's face.

"I do not understand. Please what does smacked mean?"

"I am going to give you a spanking," I told her without further ceremony.

"No, please, no, you can't do that," Xochitl blustered, as I sat back and enjoyed the show. I do not know why she complained quite so much since I had just helped her add another word to her English vocabulary. Given that she was studying for the Cambridge Third Certificate, that was important as I am sure you will agree.

"I can do as I please and you will take what I give you, understand? You want a good time in London? You want extra help with your studies?

Xochitl nodded her head slowly by way of reply.

Fine, then do as I tell you," I told her. I might have laid down the law a bit thick, but it is better to clear the air properly where a slapper such as Xochitl is concerned as problems tend to arise if they are given any wriggle room.

We finished our drinks quickly and in silence. Then  I stood up and handed Xochitl her bag, gesturing to her with an index finger that she should rise, which she did.

"Right, Pocahontas," I told her. "Let's go back to my place and get this over with!"

Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Xochitl's Tale, Part One

For those of you who don't speak Nahuatl, the name Yolaxochitl is pronounced yola-soch-ittle and it means "Flower of the Heart." A girl who carries the name is usually just called Xochitl and that was what I called the red-skinned, lusciously long-haired 20 year old banger who wandered into my life in later spring 1989 and helped to turn it on its head.

Xochitl turned up in my advanced English conversation class one day, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, wearing expensive loafers on her feet, a pair of jeans that she seemed to have been poured into, and a cream silk blouse that hung outside the jeans and through which her braless shape could be seen. My cock immediately sprang to attention inside my trousers which is always a good sign that I am taken with a woman, and trust me when I say that I was seriously taken by Xochitl that day.

The six students and I sat in a semi-circle for our class and I tried to concentrate on what they were saying said when all I really wanted to do was grab hold of Xochitl's puppies, then stick my head between them and go brrrrr. I kept some papers on my lap so that my banging great blue-veiner would be quite so obvious, but Xochitl must have guessed what was going on between my legs because she fixed me with a lazy smile of utter triumph.

As the class ended, Xochitl hung back and I was able to quickly arrange to see her in the coffee shop that stood just around the corner from the college. Over coffee there we agreed to meet the following evening which was a Friday. That was great for me as Rose was never available at weekends since she had to go into loving wife mode, so I immediately had images of being with her from Mondays to Thursdays and Xochitl on Friday to Sunday. 

With that in mind I sent Xochitl on her way with a peck on the cheek and a pat on the rump and then headed back to college. Within the hour the place would be empty and Rose would be awaiting her riveting. I decided there and then that the fucking that night was going to be long, hard and memorable.

Monday, 13 June 2011

Being Rose's Toyboy, Part Five

That sense of euphoria known as hubris which the gods give to men just before they pull the rug out from under their feet is a terrible thing and I had it with a vengeance. I pretty much had it made: an income from the government in the form of my student grant, subsidised accommodation in a hall of residence and a cash in hand job from Rose. Not only that but madam provided me with plenty of good sex, and she even ironed my shirts for me. What more could any man want?

As it happened I wanted a lot - everything that London at the very end of the 1980s had to offer, in fact. The Cold War was coming to an end so the city was already filling up with Eastern European pussy on the make and I made sure that I was first in line to grab some of the primer feline cuts as they became available. The language school did not have any such students, but it was chock-a-block with Latin-Americans and Asians. Rose turned a blind eye to her staff hooking up with students so long as it was done discretely. To be honest most of the male teachers were so pussy whipped that I doubted if they would ever do anything other than scuttle off home to their awfully wedded wives at the end of the day, but there were a couple of likely lads around who looked as if they knew what a penis was for.

For her part Rose knew exactly what my penis was for and she had the full use of it pretty much to order. We kept our affair a closely guarded secret, which meant that hardly any of them men, but almost all the women, knew what was going on.

We would wait until the last person had vacated the building and then scamper upstairs to Rose's little flat. I once worried that her husband just might arrive unexpectedly one day, but she quickly put my mind at rest telling me that he would be at home, tucked up with his hot chocolate in front of the television like a good little boy should.

I suppose that you are after more spanking tales, but truth be told there are none to tell. Rose was an absolute gem both in bed and out of it so I never even had cause to raise my voice to her, still less my hand. Things could have continued on that merry way into the distant future had not Xochitl from Mexico and Svetlana from Russia both entered my life within days of each other in the early summer of 1989.

From that moment on the shit was just waiting to hit the fan.

Saturday, 11 June 2011

Term Ends: Susan's Slippering

Susan was brought into the shoot at the very last minute to make up the numbers. She was a friend of Julie's who you saw as the secretary in the video and had never made a spanking video before. Come to think of it she never made one again and if you look at her face you will understand why: the poor girl was terrified. Not that her terror stopped me from smacking her bare bottom, but it did mean that the discipline was shorter than it would otherwise have been. Still, if you enjoy a genuine spot of caning with a girl whose bottom had never been kissed by a rattan before, and who found the experience so disagreeable that she never returned for seconds, then look no further than this clip.

Being Rose's Toyboy, Part Four

I spanked Rose soundly, but not cruelly. She had not been naughty, exactly, but she had been a bit on the lippy side, and her incipient insolence needed to be nipped in the bud. Nevertheless, so long as madam kept her protests to reasonable levels and did not act in too provocative a manner, I decided that her bottom would be smacked but not intolerably so. I have my liberal moments as I am sure that you are aware by now.

The spanking was methodical and by about the fourth or fifth smack I realised that her struggling had ceased and that she was remaining quietly in position, with only a whimper now and then to mark her distress. As I lifted my arm again I decided that it was time to have a short conversation with madam. Then I brought my arm down in a great swinging arc to leave a delightful handprint on her upturned bottom and immediately I opened my mouth to speak.

"Learning your lesson are you, madam?" My tone was conversational, but the edge in it was obvious to any listener. It was up to Rose to respond properly if she wanted this to end soon. 

"I am a married woman - stop this!" Rose wriggled her bottom in time with her words but, crucially, she made no move to rise from her position over the back of the chair. I decided that her protests were for show and gave her three or four firm, sound smacks across the bare bottom, a bottom that was quickly turning a rather nice shade of deep pink. I idly wondered to myself if that colour would have to change to an angry and fiery red before the afternoon was out, and then I decided that such speculation was a waste of time and with that I raised my arm again to bring the palm down across buttocks that were then clenched fearfully in anticipation of just such a smack.

"Do you really think that I give a shit about your marriage?"

"I'll tell my husband," she wailed, pathetically. "He'll deal with you!"

"Well, he hasn't done a very good job of dealing with you, has he? Doesn't seem to give a shit what you do, does he?"

I only said those words to have something quick to say, and there was no deep thought behind them, but they seemed to have an immediate effect of Rose. She sighed heavily and her whole body then relaxed. On impulse I stopped holding her down for the spanking, and contented myself with keeping a proprietorial hand on the small of her back. Rose did not seek to take advantage of that gesture and continued to lie quietly in position as her spanking continued.

Her legs were close together and on impulse I placed the fingers of my hand between them and opened them to leave her pussy open and glistening to my sight. I licked my index finger and slid it into her body and I was delighted to find that she was wet, and slick, and warm. Rose sighed heavily as my finger slid in and out of that inviting pussy and then I saw that she had balled one hand into a fist and had jammed that fist into her mouth, obviously so as not to give me the satisfaction of making her cry out in pleasure.

"Arch your back," I ordered her.


"Because you are a bitch in heat and that is how a bitch stands when she is about to be mounted. Understand?"

With a cry that was part desire and part helplessness, Rose arched her back to receive the cock that would soon be driving into her. Quickly I unbuckled my trousers and let them fall down. My cock sprang free and I stroked it to full hardness with a few slick pulls. Then I placed the head against the opening to Rose's pussy and drove the cock remorselessly inside her. Pulling out I then slowly drove it into her a second time to leave it this time deep inside her body for a moment.

"Is this how your husband deals with you?" I asked the question as I began to fuck her methodically with slow steady fuck pokes that had her whimpering as each one was driven deep inside her open body.

"No," was all she cried.

There was nothing more to say. Taking hold of Rose's hips I used them as a lever to pull myself back towards her in time to my own hips that were thrusting my cock into her waiting body. Her back remained arched, arched like that of the bitch in heat that she was as slowly, remorselessly, without saying anything further I increased the speed of the fucking. 

Rose began to make low moaning sounds from deep within her as her body began to move in time with mine. I looked down at the bottom that I had just reddened and was pleased to see the marks left by my fingers clearly visible on the right cheek. The sight made my cock even harder and my fuck-pace increased dramatically.

I lost control. I could feel the hot juice building up deep inside my balls, Rose was frantically clenching her pussy muscles to grip me harder, forcing me to drive past those muscles, force them to open to admit my cock into her body, a body that was mine, now, mine because I had taken it.

The hot potent spunk bubbled up and flooded out from me and into Rose. She threw back her head as she felt the juices flooding against her cervix, and her cries at the moment of truth for both of us were genuine and wonderful to hear.

Slowly we untangled ourselves and then we both sank gratefully to the floor. Rose rested her head on my shoulder, and she winced as her bottom touched the hard floor. I laughed at that and she looked at me quizzically.

"Is that it?" She stroked my face as she asked the question and for a moment I was puzzled by it. Had it not been enough for her? That was the question that automatically went through my mind. Rose must have seem my confusion because she spoke again very quietly:

"Will we see each other again or is that it?"

"I was rather hoping that we could see a lot of each other, whenever your husband is not around, I said, giving her a kiss.

Rose purred at my words and snuggled up closer to me.

"We can see each other whenever we want," she said. "Gerald is either at work, playing golf or fast asleep," she added, rather bitterly I thought.

"Excellent news - now then, what about something to eat after all my labours?

"Want me to make you a snack? Let me get dressed and we can go down to the staffroom. I do my cooking there because this place is so small."

"Is there anybody in the college at this time?"

"No, why?"

"Then don't get dressed." Over her protests I stood her up, stripped her of the blouse, bra and stood her out of her skirt and then and sent her off naked with a firm smack to her red rump to make me cheese on toast and a cup of tea.

Give her credit but she got into the swing of things and returned with my snack having put on a large cook's apron that she had found somewhere. Trust me when I say that there is no finer sight than that of a mature woman, with a freshly smacked bottom on display. Especially when she has brought you some eats and is then sitting there quietly, dressed like a pornographer's idea of a servant, whilst you wolf down your snack.

As I polished off the food I reflected that life probably couldn't get much better. Let's face it, what on earth could go wrong with this wonderful new arrangement?

To be continued.

How to take a Pippa Middleton upskirt

The Pippa Middleton upskirt photos are now emerging thick and fast, so it's time for kindly old Uncle Nick to give you a quick low down on taking a nice upskirt shot.

Do not get down on your knees in the hope that your victim will not have been taught how to decant herself properly, because if it is the likes of Pippa that you are after then you are wasting your time. Remember that most photographers will be crowded around the outside of the car with the door on their right. You need to position yourself so that you can shoot between the door and its frame, so the actual door is on your left. Your victim will be concentrating on the pack in front of her and not you. Have the camera focussed at about three feet and click away.

And good luck!

Friday, 10 June 2011

Being Rose's Toyboy, Part Three

I paused for a moment to take in the scene. Behind Rose and against the wall there was a sofa with an armchair next to it, and to my left and against the other wall sat a desk with its chair. I noticed that on the desk were photos of Rose's husband and three children. I would like to report that I felt a twinge of guilt at the sight, but I will not lie: my brain was in the process of switching off and my cock was about to take over. I was distracted by the thought that he was probably off porking his secretary and then I turned to look in Rose's direction and my cock took over full operational control of my body.

Rose stood in the middle of the tiny room as if rooted to the spot. She held her hands folded in front of her, with her back ramrod straight and her head slightly back. Her mouth was open to show her teeth and her eyes were like slits as they watched me with a passionate intensity. Without a word I took the two strides that brought me directly in front of her and then I idly ran the back of my fingers up and over each of her nipples. As I did so I felt them harden and glancing down I saw that the two delightful mounds were straining against the thin silk of her white brassiere.

"Stop it," she said, heavily.


"I told you yes," she replied, making no attempt to stop me.

I turned her around and encircled her waist with my left arm. My right hand continued to explore her heavy breasts and my cock was pressed into her firm, ripe buttocks. I breathed heavily into her neck and she allowed her head to fall backwards so that it rested against my shoulder.

"I am your employer," she breathed quietly.

"Do I look as if I care?"

"You don't, do you? I can tell your sort," she replied, with a hint of desperation in her voice. Then she started to push against me to try and break my hold on her waist.

It would have been easy to overcome her resistance, which was nothing but an act, when all was said and done. However, I had all ready recognised this madam as a ball breaker of the first order. At least, she would have been a ball breaker if I had given her half a chance, but that was something that I was not so foolish to do. I decided there and then that this madam needed to be brought quickly to heel. Luckily, she gave me just the opening that I was praying for...

"I could dismiss you for this," she said, defiance now clear in her voice.

"Yes," I told her quietly, my mouth close to her ear. "You could, and maybe you will after what I have finished doing to you."

"What's that?"

"I am going to bend you over and lift up your nice skirt. After I have finished admiring your no doubt expensive panties I am going to pull them down and then I am going to smack your bare bottom until I decide that you know your place!"

Giving Rose time to digest that information would have been counter-productive, so tightening my grip around her waist, I lifted her an inch or so off the ground and then I used my free hand to pull up her skirt as I let her feet drop to the floor. Before she knew what was happening the skirt was around her waist and it was time for act two of the disciplinary drama to begin.

The sofa was no good as a stage for that drama's final act because it was only a two-seater so it wasn't big enough.  The armchair had large arms so I was not able to sit on it and get madam into the traditional position across my knee. Then I realised the answer and without further ado I picked Rose up another inch off the floor again then walked with her like that the two or three paces that brought my to behind the chair. I dropped her down and then pushed her body over the back of the chair. She sprawled across the seat, her buttocks nicely upturned, and I placed my left hand firmly into the small of her back to hold her in position. The curtain was about to rise on the final act!

I suppose that I expected Rose to start wriggling and squealing, but she didn't. She moved her body in a half-hearted attempt to break free, but she made no attempt to either speak or put her hands behind her to save her bottom which was now only protected by a delightfully thin layer of white silk which admittedly covered the target area completely.

"Now then, madam," I announced. "This bottom is going to smart."

With that I raised my arm and brought it down firmly, but not with the full power of my arm behind it, across that lusciously upturned bottom.

"Nooooo!" That smack was all Rose needed to galvanize her into action to save her bottom. She desperately flung an arm behind her but all I did was grab the wrist and fold it into the small of her back where I held it out of the way. I then placed my fingers in the waistband of her knickers and stripped them from her buttocks to leave them turned inside out at mid-thigh. Then I raised my hand again and brought it down across the helpless, bare bottom that lay before me.

Continued here.

Thursday, 9 June 2011

Being Rose's Toyboy, Part Two

To say that my first day at Rose's college was less than auspicious is putting it mildly. Not that I failed to deliver a lesson, rather because I failed to quickly get my hands on Rose who spent the time that I was there strutting purposefully around on her fetishistically high heels, still firm buttocks moving sensuously in her fitted, knee-length black skirt as she walked. Given that the skirt had a seriously wide leather belt on it into which a white satin long-sleeved blouse was tucked, the effect she created was authoritative to say the least.

Certainly as far as her minions were concerned she cut an authority figure and she seemed to enjoy sending them off to do her bidding, especially the girls. I noticed that she would often roll her eyes at something a girl said to her before responding brusquely to whatever had been said. With the men she was slightly better behaved, but I suspected that with them she didn't feel the need to climb on her high horse since they were all so pussy-whipped anyway, with their podgy tums, V-necked sweaters and polyester ties. She even tried it on with me, but I just grinned at her before turning my back and returning to my class.

That was what started the trouble because madam waylaid me in the staffroom after the lesson had ended. I was the only one in there as I poured myself a coffee. My back was to the door so I didn't see Rose come in, but I remember smelling her delicious flowery perfume so I knew who it was and I turned around to greet a face that was trying its best to look thunderous.

"You turned you back on me, earlier on." It was a statement of simple fact, and I merely shrugged by way of reply.

Placing her left hand on her hip, Rose wagged her right index finger in my direction. Her eyes were sparkling, but she somehow managed to keep her lips pursed in a pretence at real annoyance.

"If you do that again, my lad, I'll have to slap your face" she went on, jabbing the blood red nail of that damned finger into my chest to make her point.

"If you do, I will have to bend you over and slap you somewhere else," I told her quietly.

Rose opened her mouth to reply and just at that moment one of the dickless dwarfs in her employ entered the room and made for the coffee machine. Rose turned to leave immediately, glancing over her shoulder at me as she left the room:

"I will get the book that you need in a few minutes - wait for me outside the flat, please," she said as the door closed behind her swiftly marching frame.

I had no idea what she was talking about and assumed that the mythical book was just a ploy to get me to a flat - but where was that? The college secretary swiftly pointed out the door to me and explained as she put on her coat to go home that a couple of small offices and a bathroom had been blocked off from the rest of the building and turned into a tiny flat which Rose used when she was working late.

As the last of the staff and students left the college, I went through the door and up a very short flight of stairs to a small landing that had three doors leading off it. One was open and led to a tiny bathroom that just about had space for a shower, sink and toilet and the other two doors were firmly shut.

At least that was the case until one opened to reveal Rose standing in the doorway of the very small office that had been refurbished into a sitting room. Looking me straight in the eye she stepped backwards as I walked towards her. She stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily as I closed the door very firmly and then turned to face her.

To be continued.

Spanking Interviews: Raven Red

Those of you who are fans of Raven Red and her blog will want to listen to this spanking interview. In it Raven tells us about how she watched  two naughty girls receive well-earned tannings  many years ago...

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

Rachel's Second Spanking Interview

I interviewed Rachel at the end of May and the recording proved quite popular so I asked Rachel if she would do another. Quite a few people expressed their doubts about her so I put those questions to Rachel herself and let her answer in her own words. The interview then went on to discuss the spankings that she received from her parents, and all in all I think that we have a worthy second spanking interview for your listening pleasure.

Being Rose's Toyboy, Part One

Did I ever tell you that I was a toyboy once? It was 1989 when I fell into the clutches of Rose, who was in her late 40s and the owner of an English language school in London. I was 32 at the time and had signed up to do a Certificate in Further Education at a scratty polytechnic in south London, my reason being that the course, which qualified me to work as a further education lecturer, came with a mandatory, and seriously tasty, grant. 

I was drinking a coffee in a rather nice place just off Jermyn Street the day that I met Rose. I had noticed the buxom blonde lady of a certain age who sat at a nearby table who was wearing a rather too severe business suit with one of those 1980s blouses that had a large frilly bow at the neck, as if that feminine touch made up for the rest of the butch ensemble. The high heels were nice and the legs that were encased in sheer black nylon seemed to go right up to the lady's neck, and all in all she had about her that ice-maiden air that just makes me want to grab any women who has it, yank her over my knee, and teach her not to even think that way around me in the old traditional way.

She was looking at me out of the corner of her eye and caught me eyeing up her legs so she decided to treat me with one of those withering glares that foolish women occasionally use on me. I cocked my head to one side and let my tongue out of my mouth before moving it side to side in an obvious sort of muff diving way. To her credit, madam laughed out loud and after that it was plain sailing.

"So, what does a cheeky young fellow like you do for a living?" Madam enquired after I had moved over to her table.

"I'm a student - postgraduate - getting a certificate so I can ride the teachers' gravy train."

She laughed at that and asked me some more questions, occasionally crossing and uncrossing her legs, and sitting slightly sideways with her back arched so that her large breasts were made even more obvious. With her head cocked to the side she fingered the curls in her collar length hair, and every minute or so she would gently touch one of her pearl earrings. She listened intently to my words and laughed at my jokes, her mouth open to show her pearly white teeth.  It was quite an expert display and it gave me a serious hard-on in a pretty short order.

Rose, for that was her name, reached down and pulled out the two shirts that I had bought that day. She held them up to consider first one and then the other with her lips pursed.

"Do you buy all your shirts in Jermyn Street?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Wear this one on Monday," Rose said, holding a blue and white shirt aloft.

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere, yet," Rose paused and smiled at me. "I am offering you a teaching post at my English language school, and I want you to look nice."

"For the students?"

"Them too."

Thus it came to pass that an historian who knew nothing about language tuition ended up teaching English to a wealthy collection of Arabs and Latin-Americans for a few hours a week. The rest of the time was spent in bed with Rose, but before that could happen the correct order had to be established. That was done the following Monday when I turned her over my knee and put paid to her incipient nonsense, and that is a story for the next episode.

Continued here.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011

How a sex scandal unfolds: the Ryan Giggs Affair

A sex scandal is a bit like watching a (soap) opera in four parts, and in Professor Nick's lesson today we shall look at those four parts and apply them to the case of Ryan Giggs to see how they unfold.

Act one is when the press learns that the shit may be about to hit the fan. Something will have happened to tip them off and in the case of Giggs this was almost certainly the rising crescendo of gossip surrounding his affair with Natasha, his sister-in-law. The press cannot print the story, yet, but what they will start to do is move in like hungry wolves around a little lost lamb...

Act two involves the hacks flying a kite to see if the wind catches it and it flies. Names will have been discussed and the most likely candidates approached to see if they will talk. In the Case of Giggs, Imogen Thomas must have seemed like manna from heaven, as being a B-list celebrity she was a publicity hound, anyway. The point about running her story is that it is like shaking the branches of an apple tree in September - you never know how much fruit will fall.

Act three is where we are now. Natasha Giggs has told her story, obviously as an act of revenge, but probably following some serious inducements from the press. The hacks will be hoping that yet more women will emerge so that the story can continue to be developed.

Act four is coming up soon. That is when everyone piles in and the story acquires a life all of its own. The hacks will rework the story is various ways to keep it alive, which is pretty much what I am doing with this posting. When we get fully into the final act any old rumour will be printed because the victim is in no condition to complain, having been thoroughly grilled by just about everyone. The press will sell more papers, this blog will get more hits and, hopefully, more people will then go on to visit my wonderful clips' site where any number of sexy videos are to be found - some featuring me!

Monday, 6 June 2011

Has equality actually made British men impotent?

Has equality damaged the nation's sex life? The argument is that with so many women in senior management positions, their power in the office has led to the creation of a breed of neutered, pussy whipped curs that is all they can find for the bedroom. As usual, it seems, women want to have their cake and eat it: they want to be alpha females in the boardroom and sex kittens in the bedroom. Their men should be obsequious at work and tigers between the sheets. As I said, that's women for you.

Now, part of me thinks that all this is ludicrous. Take a walk down any East Lancashire mill town street on a Friday night and watch the young men hammering hell out of one another and then tell me that we are all metrosexual now. Or take a trip to the Bigg Market in Newcastle where the little dollymops ooze out of skimpy finery that is designed to ward off other females and catch the male eye, and then tell me that we have lost our balls.

On the other hand, it isn't about us, is it? It is about the middle class, and as a breed their males have never had any fucking balls to speak of, so what is there to moan about? The middle class consists of people who haven't got the balls to be workers nor the brass to be gaffers and that is why the rest of us treat them with such derision.

As for the corporate women, they have have the world as they wanted it, stuffed to the gills with the craven, the gutless, and the obsequious. If they want something a bit better they can either travel to places like Liverpool, or they can buy a nice vibrator and dream.
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