Thursday, 28 June 2012

Weekending: Reasons to Spank 1

This is just one of the reasons why men do not take women all that seriously, and why the need to smack their bottoms from time to time is felt to be necessary.

See you next week!

Wednesday, 27 June 2012

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Sophie, Countess of Wessex

An Order of the Burning Buttocks is hereby awarded to Sophie, Countess of Wessex, for unladylike behaviour at the recent Royal Ascot bunfest. Yes, we know, the place is full of slappers with their orange skin and heavyweight bling, but we expect more from the royal family - even if Sophie is just an HRH by marriage.

This is not the first time that Sophie has been awarded one of our Orders of the Burning Buttocks. This time is is because of the rampant slapperism that she displayed when giving it tongue like a fishwife at Royal Ascot.





Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Royal Ascot Upskirts

As you will know, Royal Ascot introduced some new dress rules, so here they are, as amended by avuncular old Uncle Nick:


Knickers are optional in the Silver Ring area of the course.


Ladies are reminded that the wind can gust at times...


...and that an embarrassed grin alone does nothing to solve this problem.


Thongs should only be worn when cellulite is not present.


Saggy arses are not allowed in the Royal Enclosure.

Monday, 25 June 2012

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Chris's Wife


If ever a wife needed five minutes over her husband's knee then surely it is the one who belongs to Chris who stuck this banner up on a Birmingham motorway bridge? England were never expected to even get through the group stage of Euro 2012 so obviously as soon as they did this fellow darted over to Ukraine to see the lads in action against Italy. Wedding anniversaries come around every year so his wife can have a double event in twelve months' time. For the moment Chris, her long suffering fellow, has other things on his mind.

Now then, this has only come to pass because Chris has clearly been too liberal with his awfully wedded wife up to now. He needs to take her in hand and remind her who is the head of that particular house.

Chris: the men of England are with you on this!

Thursday, 21 June 2012

Weekending: Naughty Secretary 2

"That's nothing! You should see what Junior does when you mess up dictation..."

For some reason the original had its caption stuck in the top left hand corner of the cartoon, so I decided to stick it at the bottom where it belongs.

It's one of my favourite cartoons, mainly because of the look of resignation on the victim's face and the fact that the two onlookers are anything but surprised at the event. That's not to say that women were spanked in every office, but the humour relies on people accepting that in some offices, the secretaries occasionally had their bottoms smacked.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Marina, Part Six


I clicked my fingers to get her attention and then indicated with my thumb that she should climb into bed. As she got up I pulled the bedclothes back and quickly stripped myself naked. Marina for her part stood at the side of the bed, still with her head down, her hands still clutching her well-chastised bottom underneath her skirt. It was quite a delightful sight to see, and had my cock not started to drool in anticipation of the second act of the performance to come then I am sure that I would have been willing to spend time admiring the view. As it was I gripped my hammer firmly so that the head became even more bulbous and potent than it was already, and without a word Marina dropped to her knees, and took my weapon in her hand.

Marina looked straight into my face as she worked my cock in her hand, gauging my reactions to the way she worked the muscle, moving the foreskin over the cockhead, squeezing the meat firmly, before pulling the skin down to free the head and starting the procedure all over again. Her lips were pursed in concentration as she listened to the noises that I was making as she pumped my cock harder and faster.

I lay back on the bed and Marina took the opportunity to grab the hairclip that had somehow come loose and tie her hair out of the way of her face with it. Then she leaned forward and took my cock in her mouth, went down about half way along the shaft and sucked it firmly as she pulled her head slowly back at the same time. I threw back my head and groaned heavily at the heavenly sensation.

Marina’s fingers began to play around my balls, as she took the weight of them in her hand like a good girl should. I could feel them stirring and decided that now was a good time to strip Marina down so that I could ride her home.

“Let me take off your clothes,” I said, pushed her gently backwards.

“I want to carry on sucking you,” she said, softly.

“I’m going to have you – I can’t wait to have you,” was my reply.

“Will you take me doggie-style? You know I like that when I feel like this,” she said.

I knew what she meant. Marina spanked is Marina gentle and obedient. She likes to please me so that I tell her that she is a good girl, but she also likes to feel that she is remaining under my control. Bending her forward and taking her from the rear allows her to enjoy that sensation of being taken and that there is nothing that she can do to stop the fucking from happening.

Quickly I stripped her naked and ran a finger inside her body. She was as wet and ready as I knew she would be. I laughed at that and Marina pouted at me because she knew why I was laughing. Such is that way things are between two people who have been going at it on and off like a dog with his bitch for many a long year.

Without a word Marina climbed onto the bed, grabbed some pillows to put under her stomach and then lay down upon them. She opened her legs at once and I climbed between her invitingly open thighs. As I did that she reached down underneath herself to take my eager cock in her hand and guide it into the opening of her body.

Marina groaned heavily as my cock slid into her body. I pushed it in slowly, ever so slowly, until it would go in no further and then I clenched the muscles to make it swell inside marina’s body. I heard her gasp as she she took the full weight of the cock inside her.

Then I gave her a good solid fucking of the type that I enjoy giving and which Marina certainly loved receiving back in the old days. The strokes were not too fast, but they were powerful as each thrust plunged as deeply into her helpless body as it was possible to go.

I looked down at her well smacked rear end that seemed to glow with the fire that was still raging within it. I groaned out loud as the delightful sight and as she heard the sound Marina wriggled her hips as my cock plunged into her gaping pussy again and again.


“You spanked me very hard today. My bottom’s on fire,” she panted as I continued to fuck her.

“You asked for it, you bad little bitch,” I replied between clenched teeth as I felt my balls begin to move under the pressure of the molten lava that was now swirling around inside them.

“Yes, I did. I know I did. I am sorry. I deserved to be spanked, didn’t I?”

“Are you going to be good in future or do I have to put you across my knee again?”

“I’ll be good. I promise. I know that you’ll spank me if I’m not,” she whimpered, as the speed of my cock thrusts increased dramatically.

“Damn right I will. I’ll have your knickers down just like I did today, and I don’t care how old you are. When you misbehave you get your backside blistered with me,” I told her.

“I know that. I know that’s what happens. Yes, I do,” she said, as the speed of my thrusts increased to the killing velocity.

I tried to hold back I really did. The problem was that Marina’s tight, welcoming wet pussy held me in its grip and drove me close to the edge. The sight of her bottom as it glistened in the rays of the sun as they shone thought the hotel room’s window had the effect of pushing me right to the brink, but what really drove me over the edge was talk like that. Try as I might I could not hold back the surging tide as it began to bubble up out of my balls.

Marina heard my cries and began to pump her hips up and down which had the effect of pumping the cock oil out of my system whether I liked it or not. With a great roar I grabbed hold of Marina’s hips and pumped my come into her body with all the force that I could muster. I sensed the hot tide shoot out of my cock and lap over her waiting cervix as I shot myself within her.

We collapsed next to each other, Marina’s buttocks resting just a fraction of an inch away from my stomach. Even in that exhausted state she was not going to allow anything to touch her freshly chastised bottom and I cannot say that I blame her. It had been quite a spanking.

“I have to go,” I heard her say, drowsily.

She began to explain what she had to do but I switched off at that point. Marina went off to shower and I lay contentedly on the bed. All in all it had been quite a tiring day and I felt that I deserved a nice rest.

Marina and I spoke several times on the telephone over the following days, but it was not until the 10th January 2012 if you want to be exact, that I thought to ask her how long it had taken her bottom to stop stinging from the spanking?


"Four days! I could feel it for four days!" The Moose was clearly in a moaning mood, so I let her ramble on, secure in the knowledge that here was a well spanked young woman who would clearly remember what had been done to her bottom for a long time to come, and would think twice about wishing to see the event repeated.

Although with Marina, as with all other women, of whatever type, that is far from certain.

Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Marina, Part Five


I spanked her with all the force that my arm could muster and each smack resounded throughout the room as if a gun was being fired. I counted each one silently in my head as my hand bounced down, first on one cheek and then on the other. By the third smack Marina was wriggling like an eel and by the seventh - yes, I really did make these mental notes - she was screaming like a scalded cat.

The battle to keep her in position meant that I had to slow down the rate at which my hand smacked against her bottom. That said, any relief she got from that was outweighed by the fact that I began to swing my shoulder as I brought my arm down, so the smacks became even harder and Marina's bottom began to turn a fiery shade of red under the onslaught.

I reached smack number fifty and paused for a moment. Marina was still screaming at the top of her lungs and she took the opportunity of the respite to roll over with all her might and fall onto the floor.

"I hate this fucking country! I hate it! If I was in the United States someone would have come to my rescue, but here they just ignore everything so long as they have been fucking paid!"

She rubbed her bottom, but made no move to rise. I saw the look of utter fury on her face and decided that this spanking was far from over, so I grabbed her around the waist and quite literally hauled her back into position.

"No, please, I've had enough! Please, I'm sorry," she wailed, as I lifted her skirt for the second time.

"I decide when you have had enough," I told her, bringing my arm down in another great retributory arc down upon her sorely tried buttocks. I remember smiling as I admired my existing handiwork: Marina was about to find out just how much she could take, whether she liked it or not.

I lost count of the smacks around that point, but I do remember laying on a flurry of hard, made to punish whacks the sounds of which echoed of the walls in that hotel room. Each smack was given with the full force and weight of my arm behind it, each one meant to teach Marina her place so that it would be a long time before she ever needed to receive such severe correction again.

She probably should have been given more, but it has to be admitted that my lungs are shot from a lifetime's smoking, and I had only been in Mexico City for less than a week, so the altitude was getting to me. As I gasped for air and struggled to hold the Moose in position for the next hard smack, something happened inside me and I decided that I had had enough at least, and Marina slithered off my lap for the second time.

"I'm sorry," was all she said, very softly, as she rubbed her bottom.

I nodded by way of reply, but I do not think that she saw me. Her head was down, as she sat on her side, making sure that the carpet did not touch her well-spanked rear end. There was silence in the room, other than the panting of two people trying to draw breath and the whimpering of one of them as she tried to extinguish the fire that was raging under her skirt.

I sat back and enjoyed the show. Marina has always provided me with endless hours of entertainment as she complains about something or other and that day was no exception.

The day was not going to end with this theatrical moment, of course, and perish the thought that it even might. There is nothing finer than bedding a freshly spanked female, and Marina who is a delight between the sheets whatever the circumstances becomes a sensual delight after her backside has been thoroughly barbequed.

Monday, 18 June 2012

Marina, Part Four


As we waited for an attendant to fetch Marina's car from the coffee shop's car park, the Moose ran her hand up my sleeve and gave me a quite superlative pout.

"Which hotel do you want to go to?"

"The usual one, from the good old days," I replied.

Marina nodded at the memory, so we climbed into her car, and she began the short drive down Tlalpan to the hotel.

She was deathly quiet as she manoeuvred the car through the light traffic, and I noticed that she was gently biting her lower lip. Obviously something was troubling her, and white man that I am, I leaned over and spoke softly into her right ear:

"Want to tell me why you look so worried?"

"Oh - shut up - you know what's wrong!"

She almost lost control of the steering wheel, such was her panic, and a car screeched past us, its driver leaning out of his window to flip one of those delightfully obscene gestures that Mexicans are so good at in Marina's direction.

"Be careful, Moose," I admonished her. "You really need to give the road your full attention and not worry about what is going to happen to your bottom."

Marina chose to ignore my well meaning advice and began to complain in a high pitched tone about the unfairness of it all. She really should have thought about that before she went off the rails, do you not agree, gentle reader?

We reached the hotel and Marina swung her steering wheel to the right so that the car swept through the outer portal in and came to rest inside the underground car park. Without a word we both climbed out and walked to the door that led to reception.

I booked a room on the second floor and up we went in the lift. As it reached the floor Marina began to make little mewing noises in the back of her throat, and to avoid a debate as soon as the lift door's opened I simply grabbed her by the arm and marched her to the room. A chambermaid was busy in the corridor, but if she saw me half dragging Marina to her fate she gave no sign of it.

The door to our room was already open and Marina walked in without having to be pushed. I closed the door with a thud and made sure that I clicked the locking bolt as firmly, and loudly, as I could and was rewarded by the sight of a shudder passing through Marina’s frame.

There was really no point in wasting time. I grabbed her arm and pulled her towards me, stepping backwards as I did so and then sitting down when I felt the bed against the back of my legs. As I sat down, Marina was hauled across my knee and lay helplessly in position, her wine-red knee length skirt providing ample protection for the area that would be the target of my correction. Thus it had to be raised and I grabbed the hem with my right hand and quickly swept the garment above her waist.

"I am wearing tights," Marina announced in a very quiet tone. "They hold my bottom" she went on, "and help shape it."

I almost burst out laughing at the ludicrousness of the comment, but common sense kicked in and I stifled my laughter. I could have pointed out to her that whether she likes it or not, at 33 she is fast approaching her fuck-by date, and once a woman passes that milestone the days when men will fight each other for her attention are over. All the fancy foundation garments in the world cannot hide that inexorable march of time.

 Instead, and without a word, I hooked the fingers of my right hand into the waistband of her tights and hauled them, and the pale cream panties that she wore underneath, down to knee level in one swift, practised movement. I lifted my left thigh up ever so slightly so that there was space between Marina's stomach and my legs, and thus the garments came down without any fuss or bother. You can just tell that I have done this before.

Marina began to make those mewing sounds as she felt the fresh air on her upturned bottom, but other than that she made no sound. Normally I would pause for a moment to let the reality of the situation sink into the mind of my victim, but this time I just could not be bothered. We both knew that she had behaved appallingly and that this was her well-earned punishment. I raised my right arm high above my head and brought it down in a great swinging arc to crack across Marina's helpless, and totally bare, bottom.

To be continued.

Thursday, 14 June 2012

Weekending: Naughty Secretary 1

The thing that I like about this 1950s cartoon is that the joke only works if you accept that secretaries got spanked. Sadly not all of them, but enough to make this a believable bit of humour.

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Marina, Part Three


As noon drew near the following day I wandered from the metro station to the coffee shop where we had agreed to meet. A few texts had passed between us, but I was not thinking of Mooseish matters as I strolled down the broad avenue called Tlalpan in the direction of coffee and Marina. If I thought about anything at all it was probably how nice the weather was compared to the cold damp country that I had left behind a few days earlier. The vibration of my mobile phone shook me out of my daydream. It was a text from the Moose who was waiting for me at the coffee shop:

I have a horrible stomach ache, I am nervous and I hate it!

The hour of retribution was at hand.

I pushed open the door to the coffee shop and looked around for Marina. There she was, her Blackberry and some papers on one side of her, and an expensive handbag on the other. Give the lady credit, but she had made an extra special effort with her dress and make-up, not that she needed to do much, being naturally lovely. Still, I was pleased to see that she was wearing a skirt, something that she had told me the year before that wore, and which had obviously been put on for my benefit since she knows that I like them.

However, the most delightful aspect of her appearance was the way that she fidgeted nervously in her seat, glancing at her watch, before picking up her mobile, only to put it down again a moment later to cast an anxious glance at the door.

As soon as she saw me strolling towards her she let out a yelp of delight and got to her feet with her arms held out for the obligatory hug and load smacking kiss.

"Hamster Face," she warbled at length, her voice catching in her throat.

"Hello, Moose," I replied, quietly. "What have you got to say for yourself?

"Nothing... I need to go," she indicated the ladies' room with a shaky index finger.

"Off you go and I will get myself a coffee," I replied. "Do you want anything?"

"I haven't had anything all day - I'm so nervous."

As Marina went off to do whatever it is that women spend so long doing in toilets,  I enjoyed my coffee and reflected on the fact that one of the nicer things about women is the way in which when nervous, their fears travel at the speed of light from their brains to inside their panties. It is not that they become aroused, exactly, but they do tend to become nice and moist and that is manna from heaven to a man like me. I resolved that when the Moose returned we would spend a happy few minutes chatting about her immediate future, just so that I could enjoy the sport of watching her squirm in her own juices, as it were.

The Moose returned and took her seat across the table from me. She cocked her head to one side and fixed me with one of her dazzling smiles, and then when I did not respond she resorted to pout mode, sticking her lower lip over the upper one, a trait that had led to her being given the the nickname of Moose in the first place.

"Please don't be too hard on me," she pleaded.

All I did by way of reply was smile slightly and leave her to babble, which was something she then proceeded to do. Women, no matter what nationality they are, always babble when they know that a fire will soon be ignited underneath their skirts and inside their knickers.

She fidgeted in her chair as I knew that she would, because most women do at times like that, and I sat back and enjoyed the show. Her hands fluttered like butterflies, and she crossed, uncrossed and then recrossed her legs again and again, constantly changing her position in the seat as if she wanted to remove her bottom from the unyielding surface of the chair that was beneath her.

"Is there any reason why you cannot sit still for more than a few seconds?"

"Evil rat! You know why I am being like this, don't you?”

"Remind me," I said, in a voice that I kept deliberately low and even.

"You are going to torture me," said the Moose, never one to miss an opportunity for hyperbole.

"No, but I am going to put you across my knee and smack your bare bottom until it is the colour of a ripe tomato," I replied.

"Please let's get it over with," she pleaded.

"Of course. Just as soon as I finish my coffee," I told her with a smile.

A cry broke over Marina's lips as she realised that the retribution was going to be delayed by a hot cup of coffee. She was in the worst possible bind, not wanting to be spanked, but wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible.

To say that the Moose fidgeted and squirmed in her seat as I slowly drank my coffee is putting it mildly. She put on a display of terror that was a joy to behold, and behold it I did as I swirled the remaining dregs of my coffee around the cup and took a final swallow of the delicious brew. Looking at Marina I kept her in my eye as I stood up, gave her one of my more genial smiles and then told her calmly and quietly that it was time to leave.

To be continued.

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

Marina, Part Two


Once Marina knew that I was planning to spend New Year 2011 in Mexico she asked for some favours and I arranged to meet her so that I could keep my side of the bargain. I ended up spending a whole day in a government office, not something that I do with a good grace, but I was cheered up by the thought of the fucking that was to follow. I said goodbye to her late that afternoon with a smile on my lips and a tilt in my trousers as I anticipated the ride that was planned for the following week. Alas, it all went vile as Marina had one of those brain farts that women get from time to time, even cynical players like her.

I shall not bore you with too many details of what happened. Marina later claimed that she was shocked by my appearance when I turned up leaning on a walking stick, as she had no idea that I had been so ill. On the other hand, Raven her successor claimed that the old Moose was jealous of my new affair with her. Whoever was right, the upshot was that Marina picked a fight with me, dragged Raven into the dispute via e-mail and generally enraged me so much so that I told her that off was where she could fuck from that moment on.

If you think that I am being harsh, then you need to remember that Marina broke the cardinal rule of life with me, and it is a rule that I do not keep secret. Women fuck or they fuck off and by her attitude she chose the second option and that as far as I was concerned was the end of the matter.

Marina could not leave it at that because she needs me more than I need her so in spring 2011 she started trying to worm her way back into my good books by leaving a few agreeable comments on the blog, but she sloped off when I made it plain that I was in no mood to forgive without punishment.

Silence was her next strategy and when I did not get in touch with her, she contacted my in November 2011 to offer her complete, unconditional surrender.

… I am very sorry for what I did. Will you be in Mexico City next month? If so I will accept whatever punishment you choose to give me…

Feeling rather warm and cuddly I mentioned to Raven and then said that maybe I would let the Moose off and just take her for a drink instead. I am sad to have to relate, but Raven burst out laughing at my remark.

I cannot speak for you, but I just hate it when women get like that.

Raven was right, of course, as I did spend the next few pleasant weeks getting the Moose into the correct frame of mind to go across my knee. We chose the 21 December 2011 and I like to think that with each day that passed on the road to that day Marina began to shake more and more and was almost ready to wet herself at the mere thought of what lay in store for her. I would like to report that I had a great deal of sympathy for the poor dear, but sympathy was the last thing on my mind as Retribution Day drew near.

Once I had arrived in Mexico City I wrote to the Moose and reminded her of what lay in store, and I reminded her of why it was going to happen. I also asked her if she understood what had led up to the moment and requested that she give me her full, uncensored feeling on the matter. Her reply, which used her old pet name for me, was thoughtful and clearly showed that she was accepting her fate with as much good grace as she could muster:

Dear Hamster,

I am writing this message as a response to your request. Last year I was very bad because I did not do as I had promised. I was too much in shock after seeing you and as a result, I failed to keep my word. I am deeply sorry for acting in such a way. You did not deserve it.

However, I do deserve to be punished for this action and I am willing to go through this ordeal if that is what you decide. I am sincerely sorry for my behaviour. Thank you for being here and for giving me the chance to make things right.

Moose

I want to just pause here for a moment and let you know that this is not my translation, those words are exactly as the Moose wrote them. Not bad for a girl who speaks English as her second language, what do you think? Quite how I managed to let this one slip through my fingers is still something that baffles me, by the way.

I replied to her and suggested a time and place for our meeting and the Moose replied accepting both. This was my final text that day:

Good, now think on this: I am going to smack your bottom until it is the colour of a ripe tomato.

The following day I decided to see how the girl was considering her fate so I texted her as follows:

Is the time flying or does it hang heavy in your mind as you ponder tomorrow?

This reply came shortly afterwards:

I am working at the moment, but I have had a headache for several hours now. I think that it is due to tomorrow.

As we headed towards the morrow, I reflected that the lot of the poor Moose was not a happy one. 

Then I burst out laughing.

Monday, 11 June 2012

Marina, Part One


In A Spanking Good Life I introduced you to Marina, or Moose as I nicknamed her for her appearance when she stuck her lower lip out moose-like when puzzling over something. Many people wrote to me and asked me to tell them more about her. In fact, I think it fair to say that of all the women I discussed in that earlier book, Marina is the one that interested people the most, so I have decided to dedicate this last chapter of my new book to telling you about her. As you will see, Marina is a good time girl from head to toe.

It all started in 1996 when I found myself somewhat embarrassed financially, as they say. Obviously I needed something more than the bits and pieces that I was then doing to bring in a sort of income, so I decided to go job hunting. For reasons that need not concern us here, I had the use of a top of the range Ford Grand Marquis which meant that I looked the part of a prosperous man about town, so off I went off to look for a steady earner.

It was actually not all that difficult. A very large private university had only recently opened fairly close to my home and I made an appointment to see the head of humanities. Security at such institutions in Mexico is usually very heavy, but the goon at the entrance just lifted the barrier as I drove up and I manoeuvred the car in as if I knew exactly where I was going. I saw a sign, which advised visitors that a small car park to the right of the entrance was reserved for the university's directors and I pulled in there to ask its guardian where I might park. To my delight he stepped back and waved me in so I was able to park right next to the main building with its large cupola dome. I realised there and then that the day was going to be as open to me as a whore’s thighs, and all I need to do was go and grab the opportunity.

 I was supposed to meet the head of humanities, but found myself talking to a women from the language department. She explained that given my degree in American History I would be perfect to teach that subject in English, and that all teaching in that language was done under the auspices of the language department. Well, it is Mexico, when all is said and done.

Actually I fitted right in, much more so that most of the other foreigners who barely spoke Spanish and were under the ludicrous impression that they were labouring in a legitimate institution of higher education, instead of a money making machine for its owners. Of course, once they realised that Mexico was not going to change to please their sense of western, bourgeois correctness they tended to flee back to the United States, much to the amusement of the rest of us. In fact, I can remember one fellow who took bets on how long an American would last in the country before he ran screaming back home.

Within hours of starting work on my first day I had discovered that the people who ran the computer where the students' marks were collated ran a nice little sideline in increasing those marks for a suitable consideration. I also discovered that instead of giving the students a reading list, it was the practise - as it is throughout the country - to put together a compilation of readings, photocopies of which were then sold to the students. At a normal institution, the profit to the lecturer is not all that great, but at mine the students were in the habit of paying for the material with high value notes, and then forgetting to collect their change. It was an easy way to ensure that the bribes arrived at the start of every semester, as well as at the end.

What I did not know was that there was a considerable amount of competition between the female students to decide the correct pecking order between them. For instance, a girl who carried a Burberry handbag with the design that was only sold in London was a step up from a girl who had bought her bag in New York. A girl whose family had a summer home in Spain would become rather sniffy at the mention of a girl with a flat in Miami.

However, the main competition was between the girls who had foreign boyfriends and those who did not. More importantly, between those who managed to snag a foreign tutor, especially a European, and those who had to settle for an American. Needless to say, hardly anyone was interested in a Mexican boyfriend unless he was one of the dozen or so senior figures on the campus, the mere mention of whose name would make the bulk of the Mexican sphincters clench.

I still wonder if I chose Marina or if she chose me, and I suspect that it was a bit of both. I can remember her in the alcove where I had a desk with five other tutors as the girl who used to sit on the floor chatting to one of the Mexican lecturers and eying me up. For my part, I was the one who shouldered my way past a group of leering adolescents that first semester that I worked at the college, patted her firmly on the rump in front of all of them, and thus staked my claim to her.

In doing that I committed a major blunder because what I did not realise was that there was a pecking order amongst the men as well, and that one of those senior figures on campus also had his eye on her ripe young flesh. Alas for him I got in first, thus leaving him to have a wank, or something. He got his revenge a couple of years later when I stuck my neck out in some dubious deal or other and he used that as an excuse not to renew my contract, but just about everyone knew that it was Marina that was at root of the matter. 

I was never sure which man it was, but I knew that it had to be one of that incestuously small group of senior figures, so on my last day of work at that institution as I walked down the main stairs for the last time I saw one of them coming up. I paused to light a cigarette because I knew that he loathed the smell of smoke, bade him a fond farewell, and then told him that Marina was going to suck my cock that night - and that she was going to swallow every drop as she always did. He did not reply - types like that are only brave in the dark - but I knew that the message would get passed on.

Sure, I had lost my job, but it was only bastard work, and I was not the sad arse left having a wank, was I? Looking back, I still reckon that I got the best of the exchange.

And I got to keep Marina as my number one mistress for many years to come!

There is an old saying that a good mistress keeps a bad marriage alive, and as such Marina was probably the best mistress that any man could wish for. Needless to say she couldn't cook for toffee, but went like a steam engine in bed, could deep throat without gagging, and was  willing to let me sleep after my labour's were over - what more could any man reasonably desire in such a creature?

All good things have to come to an end I suppose, and my time with Marina ended eventually, but we kept in touch. If she wanted something then she would give me a call and I would help out. Sometimes I would tell her that the price was an afternoon in bed, and sometimes I did the good deed without stretching her pussy because I was feeling extremely decent on that particular day.

Thursday, 7 June 2012

Weekending: A Failed Spanking

Welcome to Weekending, a new feature to end each week's postings and send you off  with a smile on your lips, or something...


This is Tricia, a very naughty girl indeed who also found herself across my knee at last week's munch. Unlike J who was soundly spanked to my complete satisfaction, Tricia managed to score a hit which had me reduced to a fit of giggling hysteria, thus truncating her well-earned correction.

I had Tricia nicely in position as you can see with her skirt up and knickers down and was entertaining the throng of onlookers with some solid hearty smacks to that quite delightful rump when it all went pear shaped.

Tricia was being spanked for cancelling plans to meet me without giving due notice, not once but at least twice. Ergo I felt that this session was well merited and long overdue:

"Are you planning to cancel any more dates?" Smack! Smack! Smack!

"No, I won't, I promise," she yelped.

"We had a lunch date, didn't we?" Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Yes, we did. Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"And you cancelled," I told her, landing three hearty smacks to emphasise my point.

"Yes I did! God, it bloody hurts," Tricia said, stating the obvious as women are wont to do at times like that.

"Will you cancel again?" Smack! Smack! Smack!

"No, never, ever again!"

"So when are we having lunch?" Smack! Smack! Smack!

"I dunno,  fuckin' lunchtime!"

That did it. The giggles started and refused to stop. Other people in that basement stopped what they were doing and came over to see Uncle Nick unable to control himself and then the sight of Tricia dancing around, sticking her tongue out and generally enjoying her triumph.

I'll have her next month, you see if I don't.

Wednesday, 6 June 2012

Janus Reviews A Spanking Good Life

The new Janus website reviewed A Spanking Good Life in April this year and here is their opinion:


We were delighted at Janus to receive a copy of ‘A Spanking Good Life’ by Nick Urzdown to review. Those with knowledge of the history of Janus will know that long-time Janus editor AG Van Okker also published his memoirs under the same title more than 30 years ago.

Nick’s book succeeds on a number of different levels. The real life descriptions of the many spankings he has administered are rich in detail. You genuinely feel as though you are on a journey with him through all the naughty girls he has known and corrected over the years. There’s also plenty to enjoy about the history of spanking magazines, the industry in general and Janus in particular (although we don’t recognise some of the events Nick describes!).

Nick is refreshingly honest about the emotionally difficult events in his life which provides the reader with a real insight into how he became the man he is today. Like him or not you have to respect him for choosing to live a life completely true to himself.

‘A Spanking Good Life’ is a great read – we think Van would have approved. You can buy a copy of Nick’s book on Amazon and read his blog here.

Tuesday, 5 June 2012

Lauren, Part Nine

As my cock opened Lauren's body and slid firmly into her sleek wetness she opened her mouth to let out a groan and her hands clutched me behind my back. I felt her nails dig into my flesh and as the fucking progressed she ran those nails down my back, digging them deeply into body and then clawing them downwards. The effect was both painful and erotic and spurred me on to thus my cock faster into her body. I lifted myself up on my hands with my arms straight and I towered over her, rocking my hips backwards and forwards to get a good thrusting rhythm going with my cock.

Lauren rocked her head from side to side on the pillow, her teeth still clenched in that animal snarl of hers, her nails now on the side of my body, but still digging their way into my flesh. Each time I the machine power of my pelvis thrust the cock into her she threw her hips upward to meet the downward thrust of that piston as it powered its way into her helpless body.

It was as if Lauren was slowly taking control of the fuck process, because every time I tried to slow down to catch my breath, she speeded up her hip movements to keep the velocity at full speed. I can remember grinding my teeth together in irritation as deep within my balls I could feel the juices heating up and beginning to twirl around in preparation for the final charge.

The problem was that there was literally nothing that I could do about it. I tried relaxing my body on top of hers, but all Lauren did was reach down somehow and cup my balls in one of her hands. Then she began to expertly manipulate them, fingering them in some way, so that the bubbling juices within each meaty orb became a boiling mas of heavy, potent cock oil that pushed against the gates that held it confined in a demand for freedom.

"Jesus, I'm not going to hold out much longer," I muttered, trying desperately to clench every singe muscle that I had in a failing attempt to hold back the tide.

"You don't hold on to nothing, you hear me? You gimme everything you got," she whispered in my ear, as she urged me on to relax my hold and let the oil flow over her innermost working.

My balls relaxed first and the hot creamy juices began their inexorable rise to the surface. I felt the torrent flow up the shaft and then everything just gave way and the potent cream flooded out and into Lauren's willing body.

"That's right, that's right, you gimme it all," she urged, as she felt the liquid heat spurting into her in an unstoppable tide.

With a final shudder I collapsed on top of her, all energies spent. We lay together intertwined for a good few minutes and than we slowly unravelled ourselves and lay on out sides, facing each other and smiling.

"You don't believe in slow and gentle," was all I could think of to say.

"I don't like a slow hand. I like 'em hard and fast," she drawled. Then sitting up in bed she looked at me speculatively. "This girl still feels hungry," she said. "You wanna feed me again?"

I laughed as she went off to shower and I began to sort out my clothes. Afterwards I took her off to eat tacos from a roadside stall. I could not complain as she had emptied my balls so it only seemed fair to fill her belly.

A few days later I were standing at the long distance coach station, saying goodbye to Lauren and meeting her delightful daughter. As the two of them climbed aboard the bus that was ready to depart Lauren turned to me for a final hug and we wished each other well.

"You have a good life, and if you're ever in my neck of the woods, you gimme a call," she said.

I nodded by way of reply and as the coach drove off I wondered wistfully for a moment how things might have turned out had we not had such enormous distances separating us. Then I began to think what it would have been like to actually own Lauren as my very own and then I began to speculate how much she would have been brought me on the day that I sold her.

Then I went and had a tequila or three in a nearby cantina.

Monday, 4 June 2012

Lauren, Part Eight

As I finger fucked Lauren I looked at her well leathered rear end with great pleasure. I do so hate blowing my own trumpet, but it was a damned fine bit of work that I had done with those buttocks to make them as bright red and swollen as they were. Not only that, but Lauren looked as if she was ready to go off like a rocket as my middle finger eagerly explored her tight wetness.

She clenched her pussy muscles tightly as my finger explored her hidden depths and rocked her hips backwards and forwards in wanton delight. A cry came from her lips and before it had finished it turned into a long low moan of pure animal delight as Lauren reached her moment of truth. As her climax arrived and then deepened she let out a scream of primordial delight and grabbed my hand to force my finger into exactly the position that she wanted it to be to give her the maximum amount of terminal pleasure imaginable.

Lauren collapsed on the bed, all her energies momentarily spent. I recovered my hand and slumped on the floor next to the bed and let he rest for some minutes.

"That was incredible," she said, dreamily, at length.

"Was incredible? We have not begun yet. I have a cock that needs your attention, young lady," I told her in mock seriousness, as I began to strip off my clothes.

"But daddy, how can you think about doing such a thing to your poor little girl? I couldn't do that with you, not now that you're my daddy and all," she said with one of those butter would not melt in the mouth expressions.

Naked as I then was I was in no mood for idle banter, so I picked Lauren up and sat down on the edge of the bed pulling her across my knee as I did so. I grabbed a flailing arm and stuck it out of the way and then I administered a dozen or so hard smacks to that already ravaged bottom.

Lauren kicked and bucked like a bronco as I administered that second correction. I was not angry at her, but there was no way she was going to treat me like a fool, if that was her intention. It may not have been, in which case she received the spanking to grow on account of further naughtiness as it were and I laid on the smacks as soundly and methodically, first to one cheek and then to the other.

"Hey, I was only joking," she protested as the fire was rekindled in her buttocks.

"That's OK, so was I," was all I said as I dumped her back on the bed.

"A girl's got to try, hasn't she?"

"El que no transa, no avanza," was all I said as I got into bed next to her and pulled the bedclothes over us both.

"What does that mean?"

"It's Mexico's unofficial motto. It means if you don't hustle you don't get anywhere. Be corrupt like everyone else or live in the shit forever," I told her.

"Ain't that the truth all over," was all she said.

"Now then, this cock needs your urgent attention," I told her, putting my still flaccid member into her hand.

"It's a floppy old Joe, I don't know if I can raise the dead," Lauren jibbed.

"You had better succeed, or you can kiss goodbye to your going away present," was all I told her without any fuss or anger.

That did it!. Lauren became a very enthusiastic  little doxy indeed and with my cock firmly grasped in her fist she stroked it awake and then on to full power. With a little urging she took it in her mouth and at that moment mission control ran a systems check and after consulting blood flow, muscle power, stamina and cock oil levels, decided that we were all systems go for the fuck. With a roar I pushed Lauren onto her back, took my meat in hand and guided it myself into her gateway. We were go for launch!

To be continued.

Friday, 1 June 2012

How to spank: a pictorial guide

The last Wednesday in every month is when sound men and lippy females gather at the Station Bar in King's Cross for an afternoon of alcohol, discussions and the odd public spanking. It fell to me to take J in hand and to increase the level of humiliation that she felt having her knickers taken down in from of the multitude, I asked a rather amiable fellow to photograph the event.



Of course, the skirt has to be lifted, not only to increase the severity of the discipline, but also to ensure that the victim knows that whoever is in charge, she most definitely isn't.


And for the same reason the knickers just have to come down. A bottom that has not been smacked bare has not been smacked at all.


Then preliminaries having been completed the spanking may begin. It is important to lay on the smacks firmly and not to listen to the complaints that emanate from the female's mouth as the sound of a hard male palm cracking across a soft female bottom, resounds in the narrow confines of the basement.


Eventually, the girl will be unable to keep her legs still and will have to be reminded that if she does not remain in position the spanking will be prolonged.


In spite of this quite reasonable warning many a girl will refuse to keep still and the legs will continue to kick.


Sometimes a hand will fly behind to cover the buttocks as they tingle under the onslaught.


I always grab the arm at times like that and hold it firmly behind the recalcitrant girl's back. The spanking then continues until such time as I feel that the lesson has been learned.


Often this can take rather a long time. As you can see, I  hold the girl in position, ignore her pleas, and administer the spanking that I feel that she deserves.


Sometimes the wriggling may produce a banging great hard on. This girl was told that in future she will be expected to provide a hand job at least to ease the ache that her actions have caused in my middle leg. She replied that she was not an expert at such things and was told to practise with a banana.


Tired but triumphant. There is nothing finer than resting for a moment apr├Ęs spank, leaving the victim in position to reflect on her misdeeds.
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