The Memories of a Strict Uncle

Maria de la Luz, Part Four

2012-02-13T09:15:00.003Z

That Luz wanted me to take her to Texcoco did not come as any surprise since for three weeks or so every year it is the highlight of spring in the Valley of Mexico. The event is enormous, and involves an agricultural show, bull and cock fights, as well as just about all the major artists who sing in Spanish. Mexico being what it is, Sundays are when chaps take their wives and families to the event, and Fridays and Saturdays they tend to use the excuse of working late in the office, so that they can take their mistresses. Say what you like about the Mexicans, they may not be able to organise much, but when it comes to their horizontal lives things are worked out with an efficiency that amazes the outsider.

It was probably because she understood the world very well that Luz then went on to ask brightly if I wanted to go on a Friday or Saturday, and I told her that Friday of the following week would be fine with me.

"I take it that you are busy on Sundays," she said with a poisonous sweetness.

"Of course," I replied with a wink and a slap to the rump to get her to hurry up and finish dressing. "Isn't everyone?"

"Hmm, bring plenty of money, we'll need it."

I just grunted by way of reply. To be honest I was not really listening to her, which was my mistake because she took my lack of a firm reply as an acquiescence to her demand. I should have brought her to heel immediately and saved myself a lot of work later on. That said, had I done so I would not have had the pleasure of figging her, spanking her and then fucking her rigid before we went to the fair so I suppose that it all came right in the end. I suppose that the unpleasant days that came first will just have to be written off to experience.

The trouble started the very next day. We had arranged to meet for lunch, that was due to be followed by another bout in bed, but Luz decided that she wanted to meet her friends first and spent the next hour introducing me to women that I had little or no interest in, but who were clearly impressed with me. I could see what was going on as Luz was making half the brown bangers in that part of town jealous as hell of her, so I reasoned that if it kept her happy then she was more likely to perform with extra enthusiasm in bed, but unfortunately all it did was make her more demanding.

Her next trick was to start wheedling me to driver her here, there and everywhere, and then start to sulk when I refused. Again, I should have been stricter with her from the start, but I found her pleading amusing, and it pleased me to do as she wished. Alas, all that happened was that Luz took my good nature as a sign of weakness, as women often do at times like that, and she began to demand more and more. I decided that a spanking was in order...

I got my chance to do that exactly a week after our first bout. The plan was to have lunch and then to work off the calories between the sheets, but Luz decided that she needed to go somewhere, but it would not take long, even though it did, so by the time I swung the car into yet another hotel car park - I could write a book about the lovers' hotels of Mexico, I really could - I was thoroughly out of sorts and in a mood to hear a young women whimper as her backside was blistered by my palm.

"Now then," I told her as the door closed behind us. "We need to have a little chat."

"What about darling?" Luz tossed her handbag onto the table where it spilled open. Then she came towards me and put her arms around my neck. She kept her head slightly down but looked up at me though her long lashes, her eyes wide open.

"I am sick of being your fucking taxi driver, and general dogsbody," I told her.

"What do you mean?" Jesus, I hate it when women pull that trick of answering with a question of their own. The aim is to bog the man down and try to pick holes in the narrative so as to lessen their own responsibility. It does not work with me, as all it does is increase my already rising sense of irritation. If fact, it virtually guarantees a good smacked bottom, as Luz was within seconds of discovering.

"I don't mind spending money on you; I don't mind pretending to give a shit about your friends, but I am fucked if I will be treated like the town arsehole when my cock is hard and a shag is on the cards." My humble English translation can barely give the flavour of the full obscene Spanish original, but trust me when I say that the words had their effect on Luz because she stepped back and licked her lips nervously.

Without giving her a moment to say anything I stepped forward, tossed up the fluffy white blouse that she wore outside her jeans and unbuckled her belt. Quickly I then unbuttoned the jeans and dropped the zip down. Spinning Luz around I grabbed hold of the blue garment on either side of her hips and yanked the denim down to mid thigh. After that it was the work of a moment to pick her up and carry her tucked under my arm to the bed where I sat down, hauling Luz into the traditional position across my knee. Once my right leg had been cocked over her thighs, all that remained was to hold her wrists in my left hand and pull down her knickers with my right. My hand was then raised above my head to begin the spanking, which was when Luz launched her counter attack.

To be continued

Maria de la Luz, Part Three

2012-02-10T09:15:00.004Z

She held my cock near its base in that vice-like grip of hers that somehow made me feel even bigger and harder than I normally did. As I felt my cock head enter the gate to her womb she thrust her pelvis forward and at that moment I felt the warm of her lush opening begin to envelop me. I pushed my cock inside her and as I reached the hilt Luz opened her mouth and exhaled deeply. The fucking had begun...

Normally I am a slow and steady as she goes type fellow. I believe in a comfortable bout, at least until the bugle blows for the final charge to glory. However, that relies on my partner being of the same mind. To be fair, in my experience most mares are only to happy to be ridden at a gentle canter for most of the time, with both rider and ridden increasing the tempo in unison until the fin all charge is sounded. That was not the case with Luz who proved herself to be a difficult mount to curb from the start. Funnily enough that made the ride one of the more enjoyable outings that I have had, and I can remember it as if it were yesterday.

Luz enjoyed a fight. I am not saying that she wanted to hit and punch, but she used all her strength to try and push me off her. Obviously she did not want to win the bout, as she wanted me to hold her down, but the sheer effort that was needed to hold her arms down because otherwise she would use them to push against my shoulders was enormous. When she failed at that attempt she began to hold her pelvis down to force me to use extra force to push my cock into her pussy. Holding her wrists tightly on either side of her head I managed to keep the fuck rhythm going and then she sank her teeth into my shoulder, grunting as she did so.

I levered myself up on my arms, still holding her wrists, and with my arms straight I towered over her, thrusting my cock into her wet slit, totally in control - until Luz began to shake her hips from side to side which ruined my thrusts. Without pausing for thought I dropped myself down and leaned my elbows into her arms, holding her forearms down, and that meant that my hips were closer to hers and I could use my stomach to hold her body down and prevent her from wriggling. She still tried to struggle, but now all she could do was push up, and I timed my downward thrusts in time with those to increase the speed of the fuck.

Christ we were going at it like a dog and his bitch! The fuck velocity increased to a speed that should not have been reached for a long time, but with Luz time became truncated, with long minutes compressed into fleeting seconds of total pleasure. I looked into her face and saw the teeth were bared. She looked directly into my eyes and used all her remaining strength to lunge forward to try and sink those fangs into me flesh once again.

I pushed her back and thrust into her harder and faster. I had ceased to care about anything other than the desire that I had to fuck her into a whimpering kind of submission. I gave her a punishment fucking, clenching my cock muscles as hard as I could to increase the hardness of the meat that was pounding its way inside her helpless body.

All that did was increase my own lack of control and I sensed the lock gates begin to open as the canal that runs from my balls to the open air prepared to accept the flow of the hot, bubbling juice that was contained, but only barely contained, in balls that suddenly felt terribly heavy and which ached for release.

The release came a second later. A great juicy surge flooded up and as I felt it charge upwards I rammed my cock as deeply as I could in to that tight wet pussy, so the the tide would lap against her cervix and she would know that my rich seed was deep inside her.

We lay together in a tangle, neither of us moving, for several minutes as we recovered from the contest. Eventually I managed to glance at Luz and saw a lazy smile developing on her face.

"You are incredible, " I told her. "What was your husband thinking about?"

"He found a younger me," Luz answered.

She was right of course. A woman of 26 cannot compete in the tight pussy stakes with a 16 year old. Luz accepted that reality with as good a grace as she could muster. It is the way of things and Mexicans for all their faults are great ones for accepting that reality.

I climbed out of bed and Luz reached into her bag for her cigarettes. She lit two and passed me one, and we sat there quietly smoking for a while.

"I want to go to the Texcoco Horse Fair on Saturday," she said at length.

To be continued.

Maria de la Luz, Part Two

2012-02-09T09:15:00.045Z

We did not make it to the bar that I had in mind. We drove out of Tecomitl in my car and headed towards Milpa Alta, the town from which the whole district takes its name. The bar that I had in mind is just above that town, but before reaching it the traveller must pass one of those innumerable lovers' hotels that Mexico has in abundance. In a country where families consist of enormous clans that include everyone right down to third cousins and beyond, privacy is at a premium so hotels that rent rooms for un rato, usually three hours, are common throughout the country.

As we drew closer to the hotel, which was the only building along that stretch of country road leading up to the mountains, I slowed down and cast a quizzical glance in Luz's direction. Catching my eye she realised what my unspoken question was and she smiled and then quickly cast her face down, her hands resting in her lap. She looked for all the world like a nun on her way to church, rather than a saucy young hussy who had just agreed to be riveted in a hotel room by a man that she had only just met. Luz was my kind of girl I decided as I swung the car into the hotel car park.

"I am hungry," she said quietly, as the car came to a stop.

"Not to worry," I told her. "I will order some food sent up to the room."

"Thank you," she said.

"Afterwards," was my reply.

Luz giggled deliciously as we made our way to reception so that I could pay for the room, and she was still shaking with laughter as the lift sped us up to the top floor. Yes, determinately my kind of girl.

As soon as I closed the door to out room Luz came into my arms unbidden, and out lips met hungrily. As we broke apart I began to unbutton the silky cream blouse that she was wearing and then opened it to reveal her delicious red orbs that were barely contained by her white lacy bra.

As my eyes feasting themselves on those magnificent, melon-like breast, Luz's fingers began to play in my belt and with one practised movement she had it unbuckled and then with one hand she opened the button at the top of my fly and unzipped my jeans. She reached inside my underwear and took my cock in a firm grip and began to rub it slowly.

Christ, but I was hard as a rock! Normally is takes me a while to stand to attention, but the sight of Luz, with her bright red skin, and firm, ripe young breasts just drove to the edge and we had not even begun the bout yet.

Luz used her free hand to start unbuttoning my shirt, so I repaid the favour by reaching behind her to unzip her black skirt and then push it down over her voluptuous hips.

Her panties matched the bra, something with I always approve of, and my earlier question was now answered as my hungry eyes went down to her thighs. She was wearing hold-up stockings, and at the sight of them even my cock began to drool.

"Do you like me?" Luz's question was asked in mock seriousness, with only the mischievous glint in her eyes giving the game away. Instead of answering her I quickly stripped her of the remains of her outer clothing and then shook all mine off. As I pulled my jeans off my legs I quickly removed my shoes as well and then stood in front of her, stark naked, and obviously eager to go.

I held my cock and pointed it towards her: "Does this answer your question?"

She nodded, an expression of seriousness on her face as she considered what was shortly to begin pushing its way into her body. I walked towards her, turned her around and sent her to the bed with a firm smack to the rump.

Before putting her into bed I unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. I took one of those ponderous breast in my mouth and with my right hand I reached inside the rear of her knickers to gently touch the button that lay between her fine buttocks. I did not let my finger go too deep inside her, but I did move it around in a gently, circular motion to force it to open just enough to admit my finger tip.

Luz gasped at my audacity and tried to clench her muscles to expel my probing finger. As she did that I let my left hand enter her panties from the front so that I could explore her pussy. She was as wet and warm and ready as I knew she would be, but I amused myself by fingering her front and back for a moment until she took my cock in that iron grip that she had and began to expertly work it until it was harder than it had ever been in my life, I swear.

Looking into her face I saw a look of triumph spreading across her features. Her head came back and her mouth widened in a vulpine grin of triumph. I could feel my cock muscles begin to slacken as the gates inside my weapon opened to release the bubbling juices that lay fermenting in my balls.

There was only one thing to do. I grabbed Luz's hand and pulled it away from my weapon, and then I reached behind her to encircle her waist with my left arm. I lifted her up so that her feet were barely touching the floor and yanked her panties down to the top of her thighs in one movement.

Then I spanked her. Not hard and not for long, but I gave her a spanking with half a dozen or so firm smacks so that she would know that there are two kinds of people in the world, namely those who fuck and those who get fucked. The spanking ensured that Luz was left in no doubt as to which one of us did the fucking and which one was fucked.

I let her stand and her hands flew to her bottom, to rub away the tingling that the spanking had given her in the nether region. She looked at me accusingly, but I only smiled at her and lifted my index finger to wag it in her direction. There was really nothing she could say as she understood exactly why I had felt it necessary to upend her.

There was only one thing to do, and that was reach down and yank Luz's panties all the way down and let them fall to her ankles. She kicked them off along with her shoes and I walked her over to the bed and gave her a gentle push to get her in it. She lay on her back waiting for me, and as I climbed in and aboard her she took my hardness in her hand and guided it into her waiting body.

To be continued

Maria de la Luz, Part One

2012-02-08T10:15:00.018Z

The small market town of Tecomitl can be found on the far outskirts of Mexico City. It is not the most interesting of places, but it has a nice square in the town centre with plenty of shaded benches where a person can sit and while away and afternoon, which is what I was doing the day that I met Maria de la Luz.

I saw her first, and in my mind's eye I can see her now, strolling across the square. She stood a good 5' 5" which is tall for a Mexican girl, especially one who was more American-Indian than European, and Luz was certainly that as her lustrously shining red skin proved. Most Mexicans have a colour that can best be described as faded brown, but Luz had avoided that thanks to the better than average admixture of native genes that she obviously carried in her body.

What a body it was, a firm, wriggling size 12 delight, with breasts that moved sensuously against the confines of her cream short sleeved blouse. Looking down her hips were contained by a black skirt that fitted her to perfection and which ran down to her knees. I noted that she wore hosiery, which is unusual in that part of the world because of the heat, and I can remember wondering if the black nylon had been made into stockings or the abomination known as tights?

I could see that she was walking in my general direction and I begin to frantically think of something to say that would delay her long enough so that I could go into my chat-up routine. My brain was still trying to engage itself, a difficult process given the circumstances, as my cock had basically taken over all my bodily functions. Luckily for me as the gods were clearly smiling on me that day because the lovely young thing paused near my bench, looked around her as if she was truly trying to spot a vacant place to sit, and then with a slightly perceptible shrug she sat herself down on the other end of the same bench that I was occupying.

"Hello," I said, in Spanish. "My name's Nick." Not the best or most original opener, but it was honestly all I could think of at that moment.

"I am Maria de la Luz," she replied.

"Well, you certainly light up this square."

Luz smiled at my play on her name, which means light in Spanish. her tongue came out to lick her ripe full lips, and then she sat back, fingering the curls of her thick auburn hair that fell in heavy waves down to the middle of her back. Of course it was dyed that colour, since just about all native Mexicans have hair that is thick, black and straight, but it suited her to perfection.

"What is an Englishman doing in this small torn of ours?"

"How the devil did you know that I am English? Most Mexicans assume that I am an American."

Luz laughed out loud at my outburst, and to cover my confusion and give myself something to do I lit a cigarette whilst I waited for the explanation that I guessed was coming.

"You ate at the small stall over there a few days ago," Luz explained, pointing to a food stall that I had indeed eaten at only recently. "My cousin was also there and she heard you talking to the woman who runs it. You are 35, you work at a university, and you are from England," she concluded clapping her hands together in delight.

"How old are you?

"26."

"Do you work?"

Luz shook her head: "I was a housewife, mother to our two children, but then my husband left me for a younger model," she concluded with a lob-sided attempt at a grin.

"How long were you married?"

"Eleven years... I was just 15, the carnival queen that year," Luz explained as if that answered everything.

Actually it did because a carnival queen is the target of every young buck in her district who all want the status of having bedded her. Luz went on to explain that with her mother's help she chose the likeliest looking young fellow around, the one who did not drink too much and who came from a family where the women did not get slapped around too much either. The problem was, of course, that these attributes made him a tempting target for Luz's younger rivals a decade later and one of them has grabbed the prize leaving Luz without a meal ticket.

I nodded my head in genuine sympathy. British women try to forget something which Mexican women are only to willing to acknowledge which is that a woman of thirty has pretty much reached her fuck by date. In Mexico any man who has the wit not to drink, to work steadily so that he always has an income, and not to beat his woman too severely can be pretty much guaranteed a steady succession of prime young pussies all anxious to lighten his burden. Luz had used her whiles to grab her man and now someone younger had displaced her.

It also explained why Luz knew so much about me. She was obviously on the lookout for a new man, and I must have seemed like manna from heaven to her. Face it, she had two children, so hardly any Mexican would take her on as anything other than a casual poke and I suspected that Luz was after something more permanent than that. I decided to test out my theory with a few simple notions:

"I am married, but I rather fancy having a lovely mistress to light up my life."

Luz smiled by way of reply.

"Are you discrete?

"That is almost a part of my name," she said, quietly and evenly, her eyes unblinking as she held my gaze in hers.

"Would you like to go for a quiet drink?"

"Yes please."

So off we went in my car up into the hills to a nice bar that I knew.

To be continued

A Spanking Good Book Review

2012-02-06T09:15:00.003Z

Katerina over at the Bottoms Up Book Review page has given A Spanking Good Life the once-over, so let's start by thanking her for that. I suppose all authors are supposed to hate reviewers, but I take the view that there is no such thing as bad publicity and since Katerina's site is the must-go place for reviews of the latest spanking books, the publicity that she has given me is pure gold.

Needless to say I am going to take issue with two of her points. The first is that my book deals with "a handful of encounters" that I have had over the years. I think that twenty-three is rather more than a handful, but never mind, as that comes down to opinion.

More importantly, Katerina argues that I have "a contempt and obvious disdain for the fairer sex," and that is something which I am dubious about to put it mildly. Looking at the accounts in the book, Paloma and Caroline both emerged as clear winners in our encounters, and that is acknowledged in the text. The fact that I ended some other encounters as master of the battlefield only proves that you win some and you lose some.

Let me not quibble about minor matters. Katerina makes the point that men either like my book or they don't, but that women will probably hate it, but will want to carry on reading it to the end. Actually, women seem to either love the book to bits or hate it with a passion, but so long as everyone buys the thing I am not going to complain about their motives.

The fact that sales have increased is due in no small measure to Katerina, so my thanks go, once again, to her.

Poking the Pole, Part Four

2012-02-02T09:15:00.042Z

I walked over to the bed and sat down, still naked. I thought about putting some item of clothing on, but immediately decided against the idea. The bedroom was very small and the heating had either come on or had been put on by Sylvia, so the room was beginning to heat up nicely. Just as Sylvia's bottom was going to do, come to think about it.

"Now then, young lady," I began my remarks with a sigh. Do you think that nonsense like that is acceptable?

It was not the most original line, but it had the desired effect as a look of concern flashed over Sylvia's face.

"What do you mean?"

"You did not need to open the door," I told her, wagging my finger to emphasise my points. "You had no right to ask me, your man, to go and stand in the kitchen whilst you were doing God knows what with your former lover. That is if he is your former lover - how can I ever trust you again after this?"

Sylvia fell for this nonsense hook, line and sinker. I could not believe my luck when she threw herself onto the floor next to me and clutched at my legs.

"Darling, I wasn't thinking, but I got rid of him, honestly, he's gone, she pleaded, rather sweetly I thought.

I could have played the white man at that moment and let her off, but the old devil was beside me and he encouraged me to chance my arm - with great success as it turned out.

"Sylvia," I said very quietly, "I was thinking seriously about buying one of these new flats that overlook the River Thames and installing you in it. So that you would have a nice place to stay and you could keep it nice for me when I travel over to London."

The fact that I could not afford to hire a car in the UK should have alerted Sylvia to the nonsense inherent in that little speech, but the avaricious bitch was not able to think straight as in her mind's eye she was transported to a luxury penthouse overlooking the river.

"Now, I must say that I am having second thought about everything," I told her, in a voice that spoke more in sorrow than anger.

"No, my darling, please don't say that. I belong to you, only to you, and I will never do anything without your permission ever again," she whimpered.

"I know that you will never do anything like that again," I replied. "Because the memory of the spanking that I am now going to give you will stay in your mind for a long time to come."

"Noooo, please, noooo, I hate being spanked!"

"You should have thought about that before you tried to humiliate me in that awful fashion," I told her, as I picked her up and dumped her across my knee.

It was the work of a moment to toss her bathrobe to one side to reveal her rounded bare buttocks that glistened whitely in the early morning light. Those buttocks would soon be another colour, but for a second or two I paused to enjoy the sight. I suppose that you may be thinking that Sylvia was more sinned against than sinning, and I would have to agree. That said, she was a good time girl to the manor born and she thought that she was playing an ace, but it turned out to be a lowly deuce. And she did have a bottom that was just ripe for correction...

Sylvia must have sensed that I was raising my arm high above my head, because she threw her right hand behind herself in a desperate attempt to protect her otherwise defenceless bottom. Calmly and without any fuss I grabbed her wrist and folded the arm into the small of her back. Sylvia opened her mouth to protest, and at that very moment my hand came down across her bare bottom with a crack that reverberated like a gunshot in the confines of the small bedroom.

As my hand covered the target area, and was then raised to leave a firm red hand print across it, Sylvia began to buck and kick, forcing me to cock my right leg over her scissoring thighs to hold both them and her fully in position. With her legs held down and her arm in the small of her back there was nothing to protect her helpless bottom from the attentions of my hard male hand.

Trust me when I say that the bottom came in for a lot of attention. I was not angry, so I did not administer a flurry of rapid smacks. Instead I brought my hand down with all the force of my arm behind it first on one cheek and then the other, to deliver a sound and methodical spanking that would leave a clear impression on Sylvia's mind as well as her bottom.

Needless to say she wriggled like an eel, and wailed like a banshee. At one point I warned her that the neighbours might hear, but she chose to ignore my well meant advice to tone down her screeching and she continued to wail loudly enough to awaken the dead.

After about twenty five smacks I stopped and considered Sylvia's attitude. Was she displaying insolence or defiance that would mean that the spanking had to continue, or was she accepting her fate with as good a grace as possible? Looking at her I decided that submission was the order of the day and to check that out I released her hand. All she did was continue to remain across my knee and she made no attempt to either rise or cover her bottom. I decided that the spanking had served it purpose and Sylvia was allowed to fall to the floor.

I left her to blubber for five minutes or so and then I picked her up and wrapped my arms around her, as any man would with a woman that he has just put in her place.

"I hope that you will behave properly in future," I told her with as much po-faced pomposity as I could manage.

Sylvia did not reply, but she did not her head vigorously, her arms wrapped around my neck.

What more can I say? She was my lover for the remaining couple of weeks that I had in England, and damned tricky it was to keep her away from the more mouth-wateringly expensive places that the nation's capital city has to offer. Sometimes I failed, but to be fair to Sylvia she was a gem in bed and what's the content of a wallet or two when you have that?

On one of my last evenings in London Tony and I went for a beer and I filled him in on the events of the previous two weeks.

"What are your plans with her? I doubt if you could afford to keep her," he said after I had finished.

"Why not tell her the truth about my finances and how much I am actually paid when it is converted from pesos to pounds?"

"She'll hate your guts for that," Tony replied.

"Yeah, but it gets her out of my hair and she might give you a shag out of gratitude," I told him.

Tony fixed me with an old-fashioned look instead of a reply. Well, it was only an idea.

A year later I returned home to find that Tony had told Sylvia everything and that she wanted to meet me at the Ritz to discuss something important over dinner. Tony then tipped me the wink that her plan was to fill her stomach at my expense and then gently tell me that it was not going to work out between us but could we remain friends? Needless to say I scuppered that idea and I never saw Sylvia again.

That said, she was a fine introduction to the world of the good time girl, the demi-mondaine who is not quite a whore, but certainly not a respectable member of bourgeois society.

My kind of girl in other words.

Poking the Pole, Part Three

2012-02-01T09:15:00.002Z

I do not know what time I awoke but it was still pitch dark outside. I remember reaching for Sylvia's warm body and being rewarded with a low squeal from her as she turned over into my arms. As we kissed my cock began to throb in anticipation of the polishing that it was shortly about to get, and I nuzzled her neck and let my tongue flicker on it as my hands eagerly began to explore her awakening body.

And then the fucking door bell rang.

Sylvia froze like a statue, with only her eyes moving frantically as she decided what course of action to take.

"It's Ram," she whispered, as if afraid that the fool outside could hear her voice if she spoke any louder.

"What does he want?"

"He comes around at about eight o'clock after the shop has opened. He leaves his wife to run it and he, well, he..."

"Comes around here to get his leg over," I said, finishing the sentence for her.

Sylvia did not reply, instead she scampered out of bed, switched on a light and threw a dressing gown over her body before hastily putting slippers on her feet. Then she stared down at me, with panic written all over her face.

"You must go and hide, quickly, in the kitchen," she said, hastily.

I must have been out of my mind, probably because I was still half asleep, but I hauled myself out of the nice warm bed and staggered, bollock naked towards the kitchen.

"Don't worry, darling, I will get rid of him, I promise," I heard Sylvia say as I went into the kitchen and closed the door behind me.

I could hear them talking quietly, but not the actual words. To be fair it only took Sylvia about five minutes to get rid of Ram and his hard-on, but that was still a long five minutes as I shivered in the bitter cold of a London January morning. As the time dragged on I became aware that my bladder was seriously full so I let rip with a yellow stream into Sylvia's sink.

As the ache in my bladder eased, I took stock of the situation. It was obvious that friend Ram had more rights to Sylvia's little honey pot than I did, given the amount of money he was paying for access to it. It was also obvious that lovely Sylvia planned to either dump him for me, or, more likely, try to run the two of us in tandem, with both Ram and myself paying to ensure that she lived the style to which she aspired to become accustomed. Given my always parlous finances that was just so not going to happen, but I could not say that to her as I had not finished enjoying the fruits that lay between her thighs.

Although I was not too happy about freezing my nuts on in that kitchen, at the end of the day I really did not care what Sylvia got up to when I was not around. Come to think of it that is the way that I am with all women, so that was nothing new, either. The problem was that I could not just stroll back into the bedroom and tell her to do as she pleased once I had shot my wad into her a second time, and by the way, did she know that I did not have any money?

Women are strange creatures as we know, so I had to at least pretend to be emotional about all this. As I heard Ram l;eave the flat I pondered in my mind if hurt or angry was the best strategy to follow. A draft of cold air caught my balls and I decided that the stern angry lover was the one who would march back into the bedroom.

As I retraced my steps back to Sylvia I fought hard to keep the smile from my lips, as I wondered if she had ever had her bottom smacked before that day?

To be concluded.

Poking the Pole, Part Two

2012-01-31T09:05:00.006Z

The drive back to Sylvia's place went smoothly enough with the girl asking me questions twenty to the dozen about my job, life in Mexico and my income level. I gave her the answers that I think she wanted to hear, which is to say I lied though my teeth, as any man will when he can sense a friendly pussy within reach of his ever-eager cock.

"I am soooo glad that we met," she cooed, in tones that almost had me fooled. Almost, but not quite. I could tell that my soothing words were having their effect from the way in which Sylvia's voice changed from hectoring to gentle, her tone becoming pure liquid velvet as she purred out her delight at having met the man of her dreams, and so on.

Her left hand strayed from the steering wheel and began to caress my thigh. With a silent chuckle I took hold of it and placed it over my rapidly hardening cock. She stroked me gently and I heard her gasp as she realised that I had become fully hard.

"You will have to wait until we get home, it isn't far now," she said, her voice breathy and heavy.

Sylvia expertly turned the car into a wide avenue and as we drove along it and past a row of shops she pushed me back into my seat with the hand that had only recently been caressing my hardness.

"Please sit back, and don't let poor, dear Ram see you as we go past his shop. The poor darling gets so jealous - I really don't know how I shall tell him that I have met you, my love."

I had a caustic reply all ready in my mouth when the devil, who often sits by my side guiding my along the way, gave me a nudge and I kept my peace. If Sylvia wanted to think that I was her new meal ticket then she was going to be in for a surprise, but hopefully that was going to be after I had finished shooting my load inside her.

"Of course, darling, I do understand," His Satanic Majesty made me say.

At least she was telling the truth as far as the distance to her flat was concerned as it was only about two minutes away from dear Ram's shop. Once we arrived she parked the car on the street of terraced houses and led me to the door which led upstairs to her first floor flat. A soon as the door closed behind us I reached out and pulled her towards me, swiftly unbuttoning her wine red overcoat as I did so, and then letting my arms encircle her waist with my hands going down to hungrily fondle her buttocks.

Sylvia put her arms around my neck and we kissed hungrily. Breaking apart I reached down and lifted her skirt, finding to my delight that she was wearing stockings and immediately letting my fingers slide inside the waistband of her panties, my middle finger going down to explore her hidden depths.

"Christ - you are wet!" She was as well, all slick and wet and warm and ready for my cock.

She unzipped my trousers, fumbled for the belt, found it and expertly unbuckled it. The button that was all that held the trousers in place was calmly undone and her hands went inside to fondle me.

We stared at each other for a moment, each pleasuring the other, and then as if on cue we both burst out laughing.

"Bed," was all I said, and Sylvia pointed the way to the bedroom and off we scampered.

We did not waste any time once we got there undressing each other. Instead I tore off my clothes and climbed into bed to be joined less than a minute later by the naked Sylvia.

She fell onto her back and as I climbed on top of her she opened her legs to let me mount her, taking my cock in her hand, and placing it inside the entrance to her inviting pussy. I thrust my hips forward and my weapon slid inside her body. Sylvia exhaled loudly as it forced its way into her and opened her eyes and mouth widely as it reached its hilt and I paused for a moment with my sword lost inside her.

There was nothing of finesse about the fucking that I gave that Polish girl that night. I gave her a good, hard seeing to which is what she wanted and as my cock drove into her body she rocked her head from side to side, muttering "nee, nee, nee" under her breath all the time.

I have no idea what it means, if anything, but I do remember that it spurred me on to thrust into her harder and harder and faster and faster as she increased the seeming urgency of the cry. He nails raked my back and her hips were flung up in wanton abandon each time my cock penetrated her yielding body.

The speed increased to the killing velocity. I could feel my balls grow heavy with the weight of the hot, potent cream that lay inside them. I looked into Sylvia's face and saw that she had lost control as she entered the depths of her own satisfaction and at that moment my muscles relaxed as all the gates inside my cock opened at once to allow the hungry juices to flow upwards into Silvia's inviting wetness.

We lay in each other's arms and began to drift off to sleep.

"I hope that you are on the pill," was all I could manage to say before sleep overtook me, and as I drifted off into the depths I could hear Sylvia's drowsy laugh by way of her reply.

To be continued.

Poking the Pole, Part One

2012-01-30T09:15:00.080Z

Standing stark naked in the Polish girl's kitchen whilst she explained to the Pakistani shopkeeper who paid her bills that of course he was the onl;y man in her wolrd was not one of my finer moments. It feels ridiculous just remembering that incident, but not as ridiculous as I felt that bitterly cold January morning in 1994 as my thumping great hard-on surrendered to the cold and I shivered in the damned kitchen whilst Sylvia, the Pole in question, smooched Ram, her meal ticket. I decided as I listened to her airy voice come through the wall that as soon as friend Ram took his hook that I was going to have a serious chat with young Sylvia.

It had all begun the year before when I mentioned in a letter to Tony, an old friend of mine who lived in London, that a trip to the UK was on the cards. I asked if he knew of any available females that I could amuse myself with, and he told me about Sylvia, a thirty-something insurance saleswoman.

"She's not the cheapest girl in town," Tony explained some weeks later as we quaffed a pint together in a London pub. "She goes like a steam engine, though, which should ease the ache in your wallet," he concluded.

"On the knock is she? You said she sold insurance, or something," was my question.

"Naah, she's not on the game, but she goes with fellas who can help her out. She has expensive tastes and a lousy job."

"What brought her here?"

"Came over to study and then got political asylum when martial law came in back in 1981."

"And has blessed us with her presence ever since?"

"You get the picture," said Tony with a mirthless grin.

"I can't wait to meet her," I replied, drily.

"She can't wait to meet you - I told her that you were a professor at the biggest university in Mexico City. She probably thinks that you are loaded."

"Let's hope that I get a chance to give her one before she finds out that the peso isn't worth very much on the open market," I said, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

"Give her two, one for me as well," Tony answered over the ribald laughter from us both.

My chance came the very next night following a telephone call to Sylvia from the pub. Of course she replied in her thickly accented English - she would be delighted, no, honoured, to meet a distinguished expatriate academic who was paying a fleeting visit to the land of his fathers. I must be honest and say that my jaw dropped as I listened to this babble and I remember hoping that she would at least have the decency to be quiet when she was being fucked. Fat chance as it turned out, but it was an agreeable thought as I listened to her clumsy attempts to butter me up.

We met at a wine bar since Sylvia said that she hated pubs. She arrived more or less on time, all 5' 4" of her size 12 frame, an angular face and peaked nose, set below hair that had been dyed a dull red and which hung straight down to her collar. Not the prettiest girl in town, but you don't look on the mantelpiece when you are poking the fire, do you fellows?

We sat down and after the introductions were over Sylvia ordered an expensive cocktail. I contented myself with tonic water and did not begrudge her the drink. I reasoned that she would pay for it later on her back, which of course is exactly what she did.

Sitting back with one black sheathed thigh crossed over the other, Sylvia cocked her head to one side and asked me the really important question which just about everyone from the Great Slav Wasteland that sits east of the Oder-Neisse Line asks: "Are you Joeish?"

I was used to this nonsense from the Russian whores who were already arriving in large numbers in Mexico, so I just shook my head.

"No, but I am circumcised, as you will see later," I told her.

"Your family is Joeish? I do not go with Joeish men," Sylvia explained, as if I had not already figured that out for myself.

"I am English," I said, simply, not wishing to get involved in a debate with a woman that I only wanted to take to bed.

"Good," said Sylvia. "Now where are you taking me to dinner?"

I took her to a rather nice bistro and let her chatter on, contenting myself with just a nod or a grunt from time to time so that she would know that I was paying attention.

"Of course, my family were very wealthy before the Communists arrived," explained Sylvia. "None of the Polish people ever supported them, of course," she continued, pausing only to lift her fork to her mouth.

What about the Jews?" I tried to ask the question as innocently as I could, even though my stomach was already shaking at the answer that I knew was coming.

"I said Polish people, not Joes."

"Of course you did, and I do apologise," I said, in my best decent English manner.

"Of course you were not to know such things, being English," replied Madam, in her best, patronising tone.

Do not worry, as I had not taken leave of my senses. I had figured Sylvia out as an intellectual and social snob, so giving her a chance to put me down made sense. As did encouraging her to patronise the waiters and leaving a healthy tip for them at the end of the meal. I saw Sylvia's eyes widen slightly at the sight of all those notes on the table, and was pleased that she took my arm and nuzzled her head into my shoulder as we left the bistro.

Climbing into her car I reached over and pulled her towards me for a long, lingering kiss. Breaking away, I left my tongue gently flicker on her neck and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

"Wait until we get to my flat," she said, her voice slow and heavy.

I sat back in my seat as my cock began to strain against my trousers. The rest of the night was going to be a delight, I reasoned. I mean, what on earth could go wrong?

To be continued

Wanky Wednesday: Marina's Spanking

2012-01-25T09:15:00.005Z

Marina's Spanking was the first video that I made back in 1997. The quality is not the greatest, but it is still worth watching, especially as Marina wriggles like an eel to escape my hard hand as it cracks across her bare bottom.

If you want to read the full story of this spanking then please go to my Amazon page where you can buy A Spanking Good Life. That first volume of my memoirs has all the information that you need on this naughty young lady.

Click here to download Marina's Spanking.

On being stood up for a dog

2012-01-22T09:15:00.005Z

I was due to meet Marina yesterday, but as I fell out of bed a text arrived to say that she was cancelling as her dog was ill and needed to be taken to the vet. Following a brief exchange of messages, which left us with a plan to meet on Monday, the good moose did write thus:

Tell me that u understand and that u are not thinking that I am a fucking bitch.

Let me think about this for a moment: I was left with my dick in my hand for a dog, and Marina is worried that I will be in some way angry at this.

I am, quite simply, speechless.

Will the porn trade abandon LA?

2012-01-19T09:15:00.005Z

About ninety percent of American porn is shot in Los Angeles, and it looks as if the city council will pass an ordinance forcing actors in the trade to wear condoms. Many of the bigger producers have already threatened to leave the city if this measure is passed, and more than one porn merchant has speculated about how the city plans to enforce the new regulation.

Enforcement will probably be quite easy to arrange. The USA is not really all that different from Britain and we have our army of traffic wardens, council inspectors who ensure that only the metric system which nobody really understands is used, and fat, grotesque harridans who spend my taxes in the social work industry. What all these creatures have in common is a level of stupidity such as to ensure that the private sector will not touch them with a bargepole, a pathetic poly degree and a puerile desire for status. Nothing would give these maggots more of a thrill than going around porn studios ensuring that cocks are clothed.

Hopefully they will be entering empty buildings as most producers shift their facilities to other parts of the country.

Meeting Marina

2012-01-18T09:15:00.078Z

My recent posting about Marina has proven popular, so I have decided to tell you some more about her, starting off with how we met. I did cover this briefly last year, but now is a good time to fill you in properly.

It all started with my wife and a cousin of hers that I was fucking back in 1996. The wife found out about my extra-curricular activities and went slightly hysterical as women tend to do at times like that. I remember having a beer with my father-in-law who advised me to get a well paying job pretty damn quick and then give the wife my credit card and let her run wild with it. That is what he always did when his shagging came to light, and I was grateful to him for passing on the pearl of wisdom to me. He lent me his car - a top of the range Ford Grand Marquis so that I would look the part of the prosperous man about town - and I went off to do as he had suggested.

It was actually not all that difficult. A 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 mine.

I was supposed to meet the head of humanities, but found myself talking to a women from languages. 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 remember a fellow who ran a book in which people could bet on how long an American would last in the country before he ran screaming back to el norte.

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. I suspect that it was a bit of both as she was the girl who used to sit on the floor, chatting to a Mexican tutor and eyeing me up, and I was the one who shouldered my way past a group of leering adolescents that first week, patted her firmly on the rump in front of all of them and staked my claim to her.

In doing that I committed a grave sin 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 we both 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, 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 - and I knew that the message would get passed on.

Sure, I lost my job, but it was only 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!

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Sophie, Countess of Wessex

2012-01-17T03:05:00.002Z

An Order of the Burning Buttocks is hereby awarded to Sophie, Countess of Wessex. Alas we have no idea why we are awarding her this distinct honour, but she has been nominated by Aristotle, one of our regular readers and he thinks that she deserves it, so there.

Come here young lady: you know that you deserve this!

My next project

2012-01-16T09:15:00.008Z

Sales of A Spanking Good Life seem to be coming along nicely, with rather more people purchasing the Kindle version than the paperback. That surprised me, but I suppose that it is logical since an awful lot of readers will not want to have my book on their shelves. The advantage of an e-reader is that the reader can perv in private. . .

This being so, why not self-publish my next epic just as an electronic download, I thought? My actual publisher has given me no help at all in publicising the existing book, so the sales that have been made have come from my efforts, and surely I could repeat the process with the next epic? Preparing a manuscript as a Kindle ready file looks simple enough so I spent a happy few hours last night planning my next offering. And then I read the bad news.

The American government grabs thirty percent of all royalty payments unless the writer jumps through an incredibly complicated series of hoops to show that he is a non-resident of the USA. Basically I would have to get a letter from Amazon which I then send to the American version of the exchequer along with a form that I have filled in. They then send me a number which I put on another fucking form and when I get a letter back from them I pass it along to Amazon and can get my payments in full. Needless to say, all the documentation that I must submit to prove that I do not live in that country has to be notarised at my expense.

I shall have to do it, but it leaves a nasty taste in the mouth.

A warm welcome to the good time girls

2012-01-13T18:15:00.005Z

A couple of weeks ago I wrote that the prostitutes here in Mexico seem to be getting cheesed off at the competition from the amateur good time girls who now seem to abound all over the place. The economy has tanked in a major way, so Mexico's secretaries and the like are on the look out to supplement their diminishing incomes and a tourist seems like a good bet.

Britain used to have large numbers of those girls and they are making a comeback over there. Back in 1993 I ended up with a Polish girl in London named Sylvia who fitted the good time girl profile to perfection, and as the UK economy sage we can hope to see a lot more girls taking up the role.

Basically, a good-time girl is not a prostitute, and would resent being thought of as one. The Mexican version probably has a job such as shop assistant or hotel receptionist that brings her into contact with businessmen and tourists, and she may even speak a bit of basic English. Her wages will be low and in her mind you, the fat, balding plumber from Rochdale, are very exotic. Let's face it, you can afford the flight over here, so by her standards you are a good catch.

She will be your girlfriend during your time in Mexico City. You take her to dinner at a decent restaurant and maybe let her run wild one afternoon in a department store. If that is a bit rich for your budget, just tell her, because she is going to know all the little street markets where the bag that she has been dreaming about for ages is on sale. I think that honesty really is the best policy with one of these girls - if she thinks that you are a City of London banker, then she will want you to spend accordingly. By telling her the truth about yourself, you can stay within budget. Of course it also gives her the chance to politely decline your advances, but if that happens another good-time girl will be only too happy to take up where the first one left off, so don't worry. Staying on the theme of honesty, she is not going to care if you are married or not, but if you are, you should tell her. Otherwise she might start thinking about making a little love nest with you back in Rochdale...

How do you find these good-time girls? Well, the quick answer is that you don't: they will find you. By staying at a decent hotel along Reforma you will meet any number of chambermaids and receptionists. By taking a stroll any evening in the Zona Rosa it is virtually guaranteed that someone will stop you and ask directions. Yes, of course she knows where the street is, but it gives her a chance to pretend that she is not picking up some strange bloke on the street, which is what the whores do. However, a more usual place to meet a girl is in a bar, especially the nice ones that are in hotels or attached to a Sanborn's restaurant. Be warned that not every Sanborn's has a bar, but most do and they are safe, comfortable and reasonably priced.

The chances are that your girl will be sitting with a friend, but don't worry. They will either come over to you on some pretext or other, or you can give them a smile and get waved over to their table. At some point after having chatted to them for a while, especially if you are showing an equal interest in both, one of the girls will vanish to the ladies' room, and this means that they have decided who is going to get you. You can then make arrangements for later with the one who is left, and when the friend returns give her a fiver for her taxi fare home. Of course she will use the metro and pocket the cash, but you can afford it, so don't be cheap.

By the end of your stay she may have decided that she is madly in love with you - and she could very well be telling the truth. Remember that this is a country where wealth is largely inherited and hard work most definitely does not carry its own reward. Making a good marriage, as women once did in Britain, is a smart career move for a Mexican girl. For your part you get a hard working, traditional wife who will give you all the children you want. The fact that you will want at most two or three is a blessing to your new love: her mother will probably have given birth to at least double that number.

On the other hand, it is more than likely that you will want to say goodbye at the end of your stay. If you decide to do that, please don't let her build her hopes up that you may return and claim her. Mexico City's good-time girls are a sentimental bunch, but they are not totally stupid. If she understands the score she will have a little cry over you and the next night she will be sitting in a bar chatting to her friend and hoping that another tourist will look her way.

That is how it works in Mexico and pretty much the same thing applied in Britain, until post-war prosperity put an end to the practise. Now as the government cuts bite deep we can expect to see any number of young things seeking to supplement their income with a generous boyfriend.

On Empathy

2012-01-12T09:15:00.004Z

Some people believe that a dominant fellow has to experience what it is like to be a submissive so that he can empathise - that's the latest buzz word - with his future victims. Hmm, so when Bonnie the pooch next does something daft and I roll up a newspaper to smack her over the muzzle, I must then walk on four legs and whimper? Empathy, innit?

Gentlemen, bugger empathy, because the rule is very simple and is summed up nicely in this bit of doggerel verse:

A woman, a dog and a walnut tree: the more you beat them the better they be.

Spanking a Moose, Part Four

2012-01-11T09:15:00.008Z

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, but 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 twenty-first 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 gave her, all told, another fifteen hard smacks, each one 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 be corrected again.

She probably should have received 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, anyway. 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.

It was over. For that day at any rate.

Postscript. On the 10th January 2010 I spoke briefly to the dear lady on the telephone and I took the opportunity of asking her how long her bottom had stung from my ministrations?

"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 she will remember that spanking for a long time to come.

Spanking a Moose, Part Three

2012-01-10T09:15:00.008Z

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 and 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 Marina's 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, which means that once a woman reaches thirty then the sands really are running out...

Instead 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 tell that I have done this before, can't you?

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 concluded.

Spanking a Moose, Part Two

2012-01-09T09:15:00.001Z

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 which she told me last year that she rarely wore, and which was obviously 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 form that had given her 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; something which 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 the 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 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.

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 and told her calmly and quietly:

"Come along - we are going to a hotel."

To be continued.

Spanking a Moose, Part One

2012-01-06T09:05:00.002Z

How time flies... Back in September I reported that Marina, AKA the Moose, was down for a spanking, and it came to pass that on the 21 December that backside was duly bared and roasted.The reasons for the spanking are contained in that earlier posting, and I spent a pleasant few months getting the Moose into the correct from of mind to go across my knee. Put another way, but the time the 21 December 2011 rolled along she was shaking like a leaf, and almost ready to wet herself. 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, came in four texts which for the sake of clarity I have edited together as if they were one:

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

Let's just pause her for a moment and reflect this 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, eh? Quite how I managed to let this one slip through my fingers is still something that baffles me, by the way.

Enough of this idle chit-chat - I replied suggesting 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."

"The lot of a poor Moose is not easy," was my only reply.

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 day dream. 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.

To be continued.

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Louise Mensch

2012-01-04T09:15:00.001Z

Louise Bagshawe was known as Barker at Oxford because of her predilection for doggie-style sex. The story is told that every time she wandered into the bar at the Oxford Union the drunks would start to make growling noises at her. The story is also told that she was too fucking retarded to figure out what they were up to.

In spite of the fact that she is an MP, Louise Mensch, as she now is, still has problems in the comprehension department, a fact which should be clear to anyone who saw how she managed to misinterpret a journalist's words and then accused him of hacking telephones. A cursory reading of Piers Morgan's paragraph will allow for no such interpretation and eventually Barker had to make a grovelling apology - but not before Morgan had made her sweat a bit.

Her latest bit of idicocy is to wonder aloud why she has never been promoted from the backbenches? The answer is quite simple: Prime Minsiter David Cameron may be many things, but stupid he is not.

As for Barker, all we can say, more in sorrow than anger, is:

Come here you silly girl: you know that you deserve this!

The view from Mexico

2012-01-03T00:05:00.001Z

The Mexican economy lurches from crisis to crisis and has pretty much been that way since the country became independent - not that it was all that great as a Spanish colony. However, this time around, Mexico seems to be entering one of those moments when things go seriously out of whack.

I was chatting the other day to an old friend of mine who complained that enthusiastic amateurs are undercutting decent, hard-working prostitutes who have families to feed, etc. Basically Mexico has always had more than its fair share of good time girls, but now the country seems to be overrun with them, at least according to my old friend.

Wages have fallen far behind inflation, and many a Mexican girl is now chancing her arm with a reasonably well set-up boyfriend in the hope that he will buy her the glitzy things that appeal to the superficial female mind. Needless to say, his marital status is not important.

Perhaps it is time that kindly old Uncle Nick started hanging around the nicer bars, instead of the usual dives that he usually frequents? The thought of having a young shop girl as entertainment is appealing. You never know, she may not be all that obedient and may have to be taken in hand. Given that goodly Nick only arrived here on the 16th December and has already administered one rather sound spanking, the omens look good.

Raven and the world of BDSM

2011-12-31T09:05:00.000Z

My plan was to start the blog up again early in the New Year, but I spent several hours chatting on the telephone to Raven yesterday, so I thought that I would return sooner than planned with this cautionary tale.

Raven is far kinkier than me, that much is obvious to both of us. I spank a woman when she has irritated me, and yes I fuck her afterwards, usually, because having a nice, subdued female is a delight, but at the end of the day I can live without reddening a female rump so long as madam behaves herself.

Raven, alas, has reached a stage where she cannot live without discipline. It is not the pain, which she hates by the way, it is the feeling that she has been punished and that feeling helps to calm her down. Even her voice changes after a spanking, as it and her both become very soft and gentle.

The problem is that the fellow in South Africa who takes Raven in hand is away on holiday and the lady became ratty and out of sorts and decided to dip her toe in the BDSM world, with consequences that made her shudder as she related the tale to me.

She met a man with judgement that she trusted and he put her in touch with a fellow, the idea being that this other man would take over Raven's disciplinary needs. The two met in a bar and Raven told me that she was uncertain about him, but would play it by ear. Yesterday, the two decided to meet in the same bar to continue the discussion, and that is when it all went horribly wrong for her.

To begin with his car had broken down so Raven drove to his house and the pair began to chat. The problem was that this man turned out to be a serious alcoholic who proceeded to down a whole bottle of brandy in the hour or so that she was with him. He became aggressive, and began to tell her how she would behave at all times - and it was at that moment that she burst out laughing.

Things became ugly at that point and Raven left. Now, she was never really in any danger, partly because this clown was too drunk to be able to coordinate his movements properly, but mainly because Raven is a tough bird who knows how to brawl if she has to. That said, the whole incident left her out of sorts and in need a several hours' conversation with me over the 'phone.

What can I say? Today is her birthday and if you are so minded you might want to leave a greeting at her blog or Facebook page - she would appreciate that, I know.

As for me, I am reminded of a conversation that I had over a decade ago here in Mexico City with some friends who enjoyed a good spanking. Each and every one of them was vociferous in their belief that they had nothing to connect them to the BDSM shower.

Given what happened to Raven yesterday, they maybe had a point?

Wanky Wednesday: Victoria's Double Punishment

2011-12-14T00:05:00.000Z

Here is the second video that I made with Victoria, presented here as a downland for your delectation and delight. Just click this link to visit the storage area and start your free download.

How the video came to be made is an amusing story in itself, and one that you can read in A Spanking Good Life. At the time of writing, Amazon UK now onlyu have two copies left, but more are on order, so get over there and grab yourself one for Christmas.

The future of porn

2011-12-08T00:05:00.017Z

Over the past few weeks I have been running a feature called Wanky Wednesday where you are invited to download a video free of charge. Yesterday's offering was one of the videos that I made in Mexico and I included a link to my book where you can read how it came to be made.

In a nutshell that's going to be the future of porn. The videos that everyone is pirating, anyway, will be given away free with the producers' blessings. The idea will be that a video will act as a kind of loss-leader that will persuade you to buy a product that cannot be pirated - in this case that product is my book. Sure, you can buy a copy and then pass it along to your friend, but that has always been the case with the printed word. However, the chain has to start with somebody forking out for a copy of A Spanking Good Life, as making a pirate copy is not cost effective.

This will be the future of the trade as Berth Milton, the head of Private, a major European porn company, now accepts. His plan is to give the basic stuff away free and monetise the exclusive material. So he plans to video the action in a swingers' club and offer it as pay per view to subscribers. A spanking outfit could conceivably offer the live feed of a corporal punishment session, then it could sell the edited highlights of that session. Obviously the highlights would end up being pirated, but the main profit would come from the live feed. The highlights would be a bit of cream in the coffee, and free publicity for the porn outfit. In other words the pirates would be helping the company out by distributing videos that are basically glorified adverts for the next live show.

It is not just the porn trade that is working with the pirates. A major games producer accepts that people will copy his work, so what is is doing is offering exclusive content that a pirated disk cannot contain. The idea is that people will get the game however they like, but will then have to go the the company for the interesting bits. It is pretty much the same deal that the porn trade is working towards, and leads me to conclude that giving away my video was not such a bad idea.

So, I hope that you enjoyed yesterday's free wankfest and I sincerely hope that some of you were inspired to know the story of the shoot. To get that you need to read the book!

Vintage Spanking Clips!

Wanky Wednesday: Victoria's Spanking

2011-12-07T00:05:00.002Z

Say what you like about me, but I sure know how to smack a bottom as Victoria found out some years ago. The video has been presented on here as a flash movie, but I figured that it was time to let you have it as a free download.

If you are interested in the story behind the shoot then all you need to do is click on over to Amazon and buy a copy of A Spanking Good Life and read the chapter dealing with my Mexico video experiences.

Click here to download Victoria's Spanking absolutely free!

A Spanking Good Life sells out again!

2011-12-06T00:05:00.001Z

As you may remember, Amazon UK sold out their entire stock of A Spanking Good Life on the first day that it was published. Guess what? They have sold out again. I suppose I should count myself lucky that they are only quoting a seven to ten day waiting period this time, but that is not the point. Likewise I should be pleased that the book is selling so well, but for some reason all I can think of doing is screaming at the cack-handed way in which the Amazon book buying department operates.

Click here to put in your order.

What's the best way to spank?

2011-12-05T00:05:00.000Z

Do I have a favourite spanking position to recommend? That was the question asked of me by an American correspondent, and I must confess that it set me thinking. He went on to ask if I used the cane a lot, and for a moment the seeming switch from spanking to caning puzzled me. Then I remembered that what Americans call spanking is actually corporal punishment, so I replied that I tend to avoid the cane.

I understand why some men like it, as the sight of a nubile female, bent over submissively with her skirts around her waist and her panties down to knee level, is a gladdening one to behold. The fact that the girl has obeyed the order to take up the traditional posture of submission says a lot about the man who gave her that order, but and for all that, I still dislike the cane.

It isn’t the aesthetics that I object to, rather it is the pragmatic awareness that a girl can stand up at will, and thus ruin the whole effect. She submits because she wishes to, in effect, and it is that small element of power which needs to be stripped from her along with her dignity, panties and ability to sit down in comfort for a while.

A good spanking is usually administered across the knee, but there are also other positions that can be adopted. One that I find effective is to bend the recalcitrant one over the back of a sofa or easy chair. The waist can then be encircled with the left arm to hold the kicking, squealing little madam in place, and her skirts can be lifted and panties lowered. The spanking may then proceed with no danger of the girl being able to rise until such time as her chastiser decides that she has been punished enough.

Leading on from that I once spanked a girl along a country path with the help of a rail fence. The top of the fence was only about four feet off the ground, so it was the work of a moment to lift the girl up and literally dump her over the top rail. I can remember yanking her panties down to below her knees and the way that she lay, quite submissively across the rail with not a murmur of protest. I could even remove my belt, which I then used to remind her of her place, and during the whole of the discipline, she did not make a sound, nor did she move. I asked the girl afterwards to explain what had gone through her mind and she replied that a feeling of utter helplessness had swept over her and made it impossible for her to even think of moving.

All that aside, why change what is the most time honoured and effective means of putting a girl in her place, namely a good, bare-bottomed, over the knee spanking? Think about it for a moment. By laying the girl face down over your knee you can immediately lock her no doubt scissoring legs down by putting one of your thighs over both of hers. You can then hold her body in position and at the same time tuck one of her arms behind her back and grab the other one in your free hand. The skirt can then be lifted and the panties lowered, and all the while there is nothing that the badly behaved young madam can do other than spit and howl in helpless frustration. She is in position for the correction that you have awarded to her and will remain there until you allow her to rise.

Practical considerations aside, the effect that such discipline has on the female mind cannot be forgotten. One women told me that a traditional spanking left her feeling like “a little girl,” and knowing that fact alone should be almost worth its weight in gold to any normal man.

By putting your girl across your knee you can not only correct her misbehaviour, but you can also alter her perception of herself. A few moments earlier, she would have thought of herself as a grown woman, but you have taken that away from her and left her feeling like the naughty child that she is. She will sleep on her stomach that night and probably cry herself to sleep. More importantly, though, is the knowledge that deep inside her soul she will accept that she had been naughty and naughty little girls get sent to bed with a spanking.

Only a traditional spanking can do that to a women and that is why I unhesitatingly recommend it to all good men who have difficult women who need to be kept in line. Without doubt, it is the only spanking position that works almost without fail every time.

Blog Announcement

2011-12-02T00:05:00.001Z

Why the lack of postings, I hear you ask? Actually, I did not hear anything at all, but never mind - I shall answer my own rhetorical question.

I have been travelling for the past few days, which is why there have been hardly any posts this week. Looking ahead, I will be travelling over to Mexico the week after next, so putting the blog on Christmas hiatus from the 15th of this month strikes me as a good idea. For the next two weeks there will be some postings, but not as many as is usual, and then we shall go into clover until the end of month.

Now you know...

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Lisa Snowdon

2011-11-28T00:45:00.005Z

This is Lisa Snowdon, and who is she, you may ask? Well, I had never heard of her but I see that she is famous for being famous, and will hit her fortieth birthday in January so is pretty close to her fuck-by date. Other than that her only claim to fame is that a fellow left a comment and recommended her for a prestigious Order of the Burning Buttocks.

Be it hereby awarded, but only because I am sloshed.

Wanky Wednesday: Crying Eyes 2

2011-11-23T10:45:00.000Z

Today's completely free Wanky Wednesday download is Crying Eyes 2 from Hungary. No, I have no idea what the plot is about, but the canings are some of the harshest that you will ever witness.

Click here to download.

Pippa's Posterior Bare?

2011-11-22T14:05:00.000Z

Is this really Pippa Middleton, admiring her own pert posterior in that dress? The photo plopped into my in-box this morning with an assurance that it is.

Dear old Uncle Nick has his doubts, but the fuck it principle applies at times that this. So settle back and put your doubts to one side as you stroke one off, all courtesy of your favourite blog.

Janus: the end of it all

2011-11-22T00:05:00.020Z

To everything there is a season, a time to be born and a time to die... As you can see from the photos that illustrate this posting, for Janus it is the time to die.

The outfit had a good run and when the magazine was edited by Alan van Ocker it led the field, partly because there was not much in the way of competition, but also because the owner, having picked the right man for the job, then left him to run the little gold mine as he saw fit. Sadly, the death of van Ocker at the end of the 1970s marked the beginning of the slow decline of the Janus behemoth.

Like many a tired empire before it, Janus carried on losing a bit here and there to competitors, until eventually the internet put the outfit into its death spiral. It managed to keep going because of the shop and the company's willingness to sell pirated copies of everyone else's videos. On my trips back to the UK I would always go into the Janus shop and see which Moonglow videos were being pirated that year - it was truly one of the highlights of my England trips.

I remember in about 2005 asking one of the Chuckle Brothers who worked behind the counter if they ever planned to put their back catalogue on-line? I was amazed to learn that Janus did not keep its catalogue and nobody actually knew what had happened to the old photos, artwork and stories. Probably for this reason the new Janus website is reduced to offering overpriced PDF scans of the magazine in the hope of pulling in some cash from the nostalgia brigade.

Certainly looking at the website with its broken links and content that would have been cutting edge twenty years ago, but now appears sad and lifeless, I think of the final spin of the roulette wheel on a table that nobody is playing on anymore. The words of Shelley seem appropriate:

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away".

Still Rocketing!!!!

2011-11-21T10:15:00.000Z

Yesterday I posted that A Spanking Good Life had reached to about the number 47,000 spot on the Amazon Kindle rankings. I was pleased about that to put it mildly.

Well, today the book has clocked in at number 16,593 and I am seriously ecstatic!

Just to remind those of you who live in London that I will be signing copies of the book on the 30th of this month at the Central Station bar in King's Cross. Be there, or be seriously square.

A Spanking Good Life Rockets up the Amazon Rankings

2011-11-20T13:05:00.000Z

The Kindle version of A Spanking Good Life has rocketed up the rankings to number 47,551 on the British site. That is a long way from the top, but the book is still less than a month old. To put it into some kind of context, I am behind Niki Flynn's Dances with Werewolves which ranks at 33,034, but I am already way ahead of Peter Jones and his True Confessions of a London Spank Daddy which is languishing at the 55,079 spot. Remember that both those book have been out for several years, and in less than a month I can leave one eating my dust and am within touching distance of the other.

Mother and son

2011-11-18T12:45:00.001Z

I was in the local Tescos the other day and a youngish mother was having an off day with her toddler.

"You want your bottom smacking, don't you, David? That's what you are after, right here in the shop, and over my knee. Shall we go and let mummie sit down on that chair so she can get herself comfortable for her bad little boy?"

On and on it went with the mother laying it on with a trowel and the little brute just grizzling by way of reply.

The though occurred to me that thirty years down the road he might be paying out good money to hear a speech like that, and there he was getting it all for free, but was he grateful?

Of course not!

Wanky Wednesday: Unbridled Youth

2011-11-16T08:45:00.000Z

It's Wednesday and you all know what that means. Time to download a freebie, courtesy of avuncular old Uncle Nick. Today's offering is Unbridled Youth from our friends in the Czech Republic.

Your cock is telling you to click this link!

Bradley Richard: Plod Pincher

2011-11-15T00:05:00.001Z

You have to admit that there are certain actions that deserve maximum respect and pinching a policewoman's bum is certainly one of them. OK, she was not a real copper, rather one of those Mickey Mouse types that they call dirties - 'cos they are not real filth - but the principle still holds.

So maximum respect to Bradley Richard, 27, for his actions earlier this year. Also maximum respect to him for his refusal to plead guilty to the ludicrous charge of sexual assault that could have seen him forced to sign the sex offenders' register! When the case came up yesterday the prosecution managed to talk the plodette into accepting the lesser charge of common assault, by pointing out to her that the "global perception" of a pinch is not that of sexual assault. Very well, the language may have been convoluted, but in simple English it was pointed out to the brainless bitch that no court would convict a man on such a serious charge for nipping a rump.

We at Urzodwn Hall firmly believe that there is only one thing worse for a pretty girl who has had her bottom pinched, and that is for a pretty girl never to have her bottom pinched.

As for Bradley Richards: nice one mate!

The day Mary Churchill was spanked, part two

2011-11-14T00:45:00.022Z

A couple of weeks ago I ran a report of Mary Churchill's July 1942 spanking at the hands of an American soldier at a dance. The Prime Minister's 19 year old daughter was in the Auxiliary Territorial Service, the forerunner to the Women's Royal Army Corp, where she served in an anti-aircraft battery. The spanking was seen by an American journalist who fed the story to the New York Times who ran it on the 1 August 1942 and from there it went out on the wire services. The Churchill archives are held at Churchill College, Cambridge, and there is a box of files relating to Mary's paddling - so I contacted the college and arranged for copies of those files to be sent to me. They make fascinating reading...

On the 3 August, the British embassy in Washington sent a long cable to London giving a summary of the account. At the bottom of the cable are the words "Unseen elsewhere so far." That cable was passed along to the Prime Minister's office by the duty officer at the Ministry of Information, with a handwritten note which read:

Herewith the answer from New York. It does not appear to have had much publicity.

Obviously someone in London must have asked the embassy to check the New York Times report, which means that they must have known about it, but those files are not in the Churchill Archive. Equally obviously, given the replies, the question must have related to the publicity that the story was attracting.

The information that London was getting was not entirely accurate since the papers were picking the story up all across the USA, but they were printing the report and then letting the story die - it wasn't attracting all that much attention.

Why the government was worried appears in the final note that went out from the Prime Minster's office on the 6 August. The reason why the government was worried had nothing to do with saving Mary's blushes and everything to do with the war effort. Put simply, if the story acquired wings, then "it might have a discouraging effect on mothers of possible recruits for the A.T.S."

The Ministry of Information did not feel that they could ban the story, and were worried that a request to ignore it could just lead to newspapers deciding to dig it up and ran with it. The best that the ministry could offer was to keep an eye on the papers and see if anyone ran the story, then call the editor and try and have it removed from later editions. Compared to the way that news is managed these days, it was a curiously amateurish approach to controlling the news, but it worked. The British press did not pick up the story, and to quote from the final line of the note:

No further action is required and the papers may be put away.

It should be noted that nobody in all of this seems to have cared all that much about the fact that the Prime Minister's daughter had recently had her backside warmed up in public by an American soldier! The matter just was left to rest, presumably with everyone thinking that mouthy young 19 year old girls really do need to be taken in hand as and when needed.

Love Our Lurkers Day

2011-11-10T11:15:00.003Z

Today it seems is the sixth annual Love Our Lurkers Day, when spanko bloggers post something to reassure the ninety-nine percent of our readers who never comment that we really do care about them...

Now comes the tricky bit: writing that I love you all without cracking up.

Sorry, folks, but I cannot manage it. To all you lurkers out there, leave a comment from time to time to let me know what you like and don't like about the site. Second guessing you all the time based upon a fluctuating hit counter is not the easiest game in town.

Other than that, as you were!

On Multitasking

2011-11-10T00:05:00.013Z

Contrary to the received wisdom, men are actually rather skilled at multitasking. It takes an incredible amount of skill to fuck anything in skirts and keep all the women blissfully unaware of each other.

Wanky Wednesday: Inmates 2

2011-11-09T00:05:00.000Z

Today's Wanky Wednesday download is Inmates 2 from Hungary. There is a story I am sure, and plenty of subtitles for those who can be bothered following it, but for the bulk of us it really si just a case of sitting back and watching as some bare backsides are put through their paces the Central European way.

Click here for the download.

A Spanking Good Life: Availability

2011-11-08T16:45:00.016Z

I have good and bad news on the book availability front. If you are in the USA then relax as Amazon have stock in hand and can deliver in the usual time. In Britain things are a bit more complicated. Amazon UK are quoting up to eight weeks for a delivery, but never fear because the Book Depository have 130 copies in stock and can deliver in just a few days.

What has happened is a technical problem with the presses, and when that is fixed a small order like this one will just have to wait its turn as the big boys get their orders delivered first. An American firm has been contracted as an emergency, and Amazon UK will ship in stock from them.

I am trying to sort out my supply of books to sell at the London munch on the 30th of this month. All being well, people should be able to pick up a signed copy at that event.

A request from kindly old Uncle Nick

2011-11-06T00:45:00.003Z

I looked at myself in the mirror, turned my head from side to side so that I could consider my features from every angle. Although I am no oil painting, try as I might I cannot see myself as a cunt. It is obvious that other people do see me that way, because cunts are there to be fucked and they are trying to fuck me. This posting is a gentle plea for them to cease, desist and generally nark it.

It all started last Thursday - yes, it's as recent as that - when a girl rang me up and we ended up having a spot of phone sex. Well, she had the phone sex, as I was having a shit, but never mind that now. The thing that turned her on was A Spanking Good Life, which is fair enough, since it was partly written as pussy bait. Anyway, she had her climax, I got a posting for the blog, and both of us were happy with that. However, since then no fewer than three girls have been in touch, all seeking discipline and all expecting to get away unfucked from the experience.

Part of me thinks that this is all rather sweet, and then the realist in me kicks in and a nasty voice tells me that the little mingers are trying it on. One little darling even had it in her little mind that I was going to drive all the way to Nottingham, rent a hotel room, smack her bottom for being the naughty little girl that she is, and then leave having done my paternal duty. This whole concept of Uncle Nick as a cunt that all and sundry can fuck is so double plus ungood as to be unbelievable.

Girls, what can I say? Just nark it, OK?

Getting the priorities right

2011-11-05T00:05:00.001Z

What is left to be said? For most people it was a major crisis meeting, but Silvio Berlusconi managed to lighten the atmosphere with his obvious admiration of the rear end of Argentina's President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner at the Cannes summit on Thursday.

The delights of phone sex

2011-11-04T00:05:00.001Z

Every morning I perform my ritual of breakfast, newspapers and then heroic shit. I take both my mobile phones, the house phone and a book to the lavatory, settle myself down with the handsets splayed around, read the book, and let whatever is inside me pass freely forth. I am sure that all men would agree with me when I say that a good crap is the second best bodily function that a man can have.

So there I was, patiently waiting for my thing to happen when a text arrived on my kinky phone:

"R U the writer of spanking good life?"

I replied that I was and a flurry of texts were then sent backwards and forwards, with the girl on the other end eventually announcing that she felt "really sexy" and did I want to play? Before I had time to answer another text arrived with a number and the words "call me." Nice guy that I am I did just as I had been asked and got to speak to Sophie, who sounded like a mid-20s type of girl.

"I am wet," she told me without any preamble.

"Good," I replied. Have you got a toy?"

"Yes, my bullet vibrator - want me to use it?"

"Yes, imagine it's my cock, driving home inside you."

So off she went and from the sound she was making she was obviously having a great time.

"Can you hear me? I am doing it, " she squealed. "Are you playing with yourself?"

It was not my fault, ladies and gentlemen. It was the Devil's fault! He was sat by my side whispering wickedness into my ear, and doing things to my bowels. For just at that moment, a sphincter wrenching turd of monumental proportions began to leave my innermost workings and make its way out to the open air. I took a deep breath and prepared to experience the nearest equivalent that a man can have to the act of giving birth:

"Aaaah!"

"You are doing it! I can hear you! Me too!"

"Yeees," I roared as gravity took over and the arse widening turd began its descent into the bog bowl.

"I am loving this," Sophie yelped. "Tell me what you are doing."

" I am with you," the Devil made me mutter. "With you all the way, and ready to shoot."

"Come with me! Come with me! Let me hear you!"

I exhaled deeply and Sophie took that as a sign that I had shooting my load, and a minute or two later, and accompanied by a lot of squeals, she reached her moment of joy. Then without further ado she hung up and that was that!

To be honest I don't mind a bit - just so long as Sophie doesn't object if she reads this and discovers that instead of shooting my load I was actually dumping it.

A Spanking Good Life, sells out!

2011-11-03T00:45:00.002Z

Amazon UK managed to sell out their entire stock of A Spanking Good Life on Monday, the first day that it was available in this country. Don't get me wrong - I am seriously chuffed that people are buying my epic of amatory and disciplinary delights, but having to answer e-mails from people who want to know when it will be back in stock is difficult because I don't know myself.

What seems to have happened is that the printers ran off a preliminary lot of books which everyone assumed would be enough to meet demand until the full run could be printed, collated, packed up and sent off. That was not the case and everyone is now standing around, waiting for the new copies to arrive.

The best bet is early next week, but if that changes then I shall immediately report the news here.

Wanky Wednesday: Crime at St. Thomas' School

2011-11-02T00:05:00.002Z

Today's totally free Wanky Wednesday download is The Crime at St. Thomas' School, a real trouser-tightening, zip-busting, cock-throbbing piece of spanko porno. Download the video, unpack the lube and settle back to stroke one off courtesy of your friendly old Uncle Nick!

The day Mary Churchill was spanked

2011-11-01T00:05:00.065Z

The Daily Telegraph reports that Mary Soames, the last surviving child of Sir Winston Churchill, has finally written her memoirs. I wonder if the spanking she received in the summer of 1942 from a certain Bill "Feets" Adams features in the work? Bill was the proud owner of an enormous pair of hooves and Mary teased him about them at a dance, so Bill put her across his knee and administered a spanking. By all accounts it was not the soundest spanking a mouthy young madam has ever received, but thirty or so smacks, in public, is not something that she is likely to forget - so does it feature in the book or not?

We know about the event because a New York Times reporter was on hand and his story was picked up by the news wires and ran across the USA. The story features what must be the best quote of all time when one of the participants stated the bleeding obvious that Mary "seemed embarrassed" by being put across the knee of a man she had only just met and then having her bottom smacked in front of a cheering crowd of onlookers.

Funnily enough, the spanking even reached British government circles, with some quite senior civil servants discussing whether Mary's paddling should be kept out of the British press or not. I have not seen any accounts of the event in the British papers, so it probably was censored. Quite why they wanted to do that is unclear, so I shall contact the library at Churchill College, Cambridge, and have the files photocopied and sent up to me. Stay tuned for further details.

In the meantime, according to the review of Mary Soames' memoirs, the lady has been assiduous in keeping a diary since she was 12 years old. If the book does not refer to the spanking then it must be that the authoress is still embarrassed by it almost 70 years after the event - a spanking that served its purpose, obviously!

Knocking me for six

2011-10-31T00:05:00.003Z

I was chatting to Raven last night and she commented about a woman in South Africa who uses her real name and photos on her kinky Facebook page. I replied that my photos were genuine too, even though I use my pen name on the site. Pulling heavily on her cigarette, Raven replied thoughtfully:

"Yes, but you don't give a shit, do you?"

There are times when women leave me speechless: that was one.

A Spanking Good Life is out as a paperback!

2011-10-30T00:05:00.005+01:00

A Spanking Good Life is now available via Amazon.com in the USA as a paperback for $17.95. Cheap at twice the price, says genial old Uncle Nick.

It has also arrived at Amazon UK for £13.99, but other sellers have it at a seriously reduced price.

Please buy it!

Wanky Wednesday: Gestapo 2

2011-10-26T09:05:00.000+01:00

Say what you like about the Hungarians, but they don't mess about with their corporal punishment themes. Gestapo 2 is the free download that I have for you today, featuring a bunch of wicked female, concentration camp guards thrashing some girls for reasons that would take too long to go into right now. We both know that you will fast forward past that bit...

Click here to download!

Return of the Sugar Daddy

2011-10-26T00:05:00.002+01:00

Much to the annoyance of the BBC - and presumably the liberal middle class who are its main consumers - the sugar daddy is making a comeback in a big way. An American company is planning to bring its sugar daddy parties across the Atlantic, parties that allow middle aged chaps to meet sweet young things. And it is interesting that the number or girls attending outnumbers men by a considerable amount at those events.

At this point some jealous females who feel the sands of time ebbing away will go into catty mode and say that the girls are only after the money: tell me something I don't know, says kindly Uncle Nick. The guys are after the tight young pussy and the felines want the money. These are matches made in heaven...

Actually, it is a bit more complicated than that, if you think about it. Throughout history, men and women have treated marriage as a business transaction and it is only fairly recently that the emotion nonsense has been allowed to get in the way of a good deal being cut. A young woman offers her beauty, household skills and fecundity to an older man, and in return he gives her status, comfort and protection as the wife or woman of a successful man. Obviously there has to be an understanding that the women must be faithful since the agreement hinges upon his acceptance that the children of the union are his and not some other man's bastards. Nevertheless, this arrangement whereby each partner brought into the union their respective offerings is one that has lasted down the millennia.

It still exists in most of the world, but in the west it was thought to have died. Today, however, as the wheels are about to come off the runaway train that is globalised capitalism, the more intelligent women are casting around for a lifebelt, which is why the idea of a sugar daddy suddenly seems as if its time has come around again.

Writing as a man, the future looks interesting from our point of view, doesn't it, chaps? I am a newly published author, which gives me a modicum of status, but alas I do not have any money. On the other hand that allows time for today's little girls to reach their late teens or early twenties by the time Daddy Nick has repaired his fortune and is ready to receive them.

Then it will be:

Come here, you naughty little girls: you know that you deserve this!

A Spanking Good Life is out as an e-book!

2011-10-25T08:45:00.001+01:00

A Spanking Good Life is now available as a download for the Kindle. You can get it at Amazon.co.uk for £9.33 or if you prefer to pay in dollars, then Amazon.com has it for $14.89. Don't ask me how those prices came to be set - I only wrote the damn thing!

The paperback should be available in a week or two, in the meantime get your Kindle copies from the above links.

Sean Connery: spanking man!

2011-10-24T00:05:00.005+01:00

I was chatting to Raven about Sean Connery a while back and she reported that he makes her knees go weak. I wonder how she feels about him now that it has emerged that he is a spanking man?

It is interesting that Barbara Walters who carried out this interview some years ago clearly tried to embarrass Connery with the question and failed quite spectacularly in that aim. Something which she implicitly admits at the end when she points out just how long Sir Sean and Lady Connery have been married.

You can tell a book by its cover - at least if it's mine!

2011-10-22T02:15:00.007+01:00

Here it is, folks - the front and back cover of A Spanking Good Life. I must say that I like it; a simple design that tells the reader what the book is going to be about. Not a subtle cover, but not so vulgar or in-your-face that people might not want to have the book on their shelves. All in all a good piece of graphic design, in my humble opinion.

Needless to say, I keep going back and looking at it...

A Spanking Good Life; the front cover

2011-10-21T00:05:00.008+01:00

Here is the front cover of my book - what do you think?

The ball is now back in my court as I have to do a final proofread of the manuscript and then we are ready to rock and roll! I will send the final corrections in over this coming weekend, and with luck the book will be available from Amazon by the middle of November. The ISBN is 978-1-61098-190-3.

I am within touching distance of being a published author!

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Lindsay Lohan

2011-10-20T13:45:00.006+01:00

Lindsay Lohan, you have persistently and wilfully broken the terms of your probation and this court has no alternative but to award you a sentence that will remain in your mind long after the marks have left your bottom. It is the judgement of this court that you be taken immediately to the punishment room and there given 12 strokes of the senior cane across your bare bottom. Take her down...

If only it were thus. As it is all we can really do is award this insolent young madam an Order of the Burning Buttocks and hope that word of it gets through to her and that it encourages her to mend her ways.

Guest Posting: The Slut

2011-10-20T00:05:00.018+01:00

Do you have a story to tell? Whether it is fact or fiction, just send it to me at strictuncle@gmail.com, and if I like it I will gladly publish it here.

This fantasy was written by Venus de Minuit from London. She can be contacted on venusdeminuit@gmail.com:

I broke into your house last time, but this time the door is open. I walk into your bedroom. I’m wearing a tiny skirt, ankle socks and high heels. They’re red and shiny. I stand in front of you as I suck on a lollipop. You raise your eyebrows. You’re older. This makes me want you more than before.

I walk past you and I sit down in the chair in the corner of the room. You don’t look very impressed with me. I open my legs and you can see I’m wearing tight, white knickers. You can see the shape of my pussy through them. I look at you, sulkily. You take me in slowly from head to toe. We’ve met before, you smile. I’m wearing a white top with no bra on and you can see my nipples are hard and sticking up under the material.

We look at each other. Come here, you little slut, you say. I come over and you pat your knee. I sit down on it and you groan. I cross my legs and dangle my shoe from my foot. I want to fuck that little cunt of yours, do you hear? I nod as I look into your eyes and suck on my lollipop. You look down at my heels whilst you rub my thighs. You’re such a little fucking tease. And you’re a dirty little bitch. Hungry for my cock, eh? I nod, eagerly. Back to your chair, bitch, you growl. I sit down, and open my legs slowly. I continue sucking and licking my lollipop whilst we look at each other. You’re a little slut but I know you’ve got such a sweet little pussy, you smile.

As you look at me I move my fingers down to my knickers. I start to rub myself through them. No, not this, no, you sigh. You shake your head. Stop it, you dirty little bitch. I move my hands away and you can see a wet patch on my knickers. Fuck sake, you mutter through your teeth. You come over to the chair. You kiss me tenderly. You run your fingers slowly over my tits. Take your knickers off and open your legs, wide. I do as you tell me. I want you so bad, I whisper. Yes, I know, you smile. Your cunt is quite a demanding little cunt. I’ll have to deal with it.

You pick up some small clamps from the desk. They have metal teeth in them. You walk over and bend down between my legs. You open me and I sigh as you rub slightly against my clit. You put three clamps on each of my pussy lips. I flinch as you put on each one. This will help to keep that greedy little cunt under control. Oh fuck, I whisper as the pain grows and wetness starts to dribble out of me. You sit on the bed and watch me. Rub that clit, you dirty little bitch. I finger myself and move my clit hood round and round and back and forwards. Fuck, it hurts. Fuck. The mix of the pain and my erect clit makes me want you even more. You smile. You undo your belt and tell me to stand up and turn around. You need a good seeing to first, so stick your arse out. Up in the air. That’s right.

You start to whip me with your belt. The pain makes my head spin and my cunt wetter. You count three strokes and then you rub my cheeks. You give me three more. You tell me to sit down. You kiss my wet eyes. You kneel between my legs. Mmmm, let me have a taste of this naughty little pussy, you whisper. You lick my clit with long strokes and tongue fuck me. Delicious little cunt, you moan as you eat me. You take the clamps off my pussy lips and pull your cock out. You kiss each of my heels and put my legs over your shoulders. You want my cock, eh, you greedy little bitch? You start to fuck me really hard. And then you fuck me really slowly. You bend down to kiss me gently. You know that this is the best way for me to deal with you, you say into my ear. You kiss me hard, your tongue down my throat as you push into me. Rub it, you dirty little bitch, you whisper. I look at your face as I rub my clit. Your cock is so hard in me. You watch me come as I look at your eyes. They start to close. You fuck me harder and I kiss you as you sigh into my mouth. I feel you push your orgasm inside me. It makes me want to come again.

About Venus de Minuit:

I am a sexual explorer, fantasist and dream visitor who is compelled to share my experiences with you. Everything written here has been experienced or felt. I cannot write it if I don't feel it.

My writing is for everyone that I meet every day and for anyone who wants to know me. All the ordinary people with worlds below the surface.

I am all at once sexually extraordinary, ordinary and very, very sexy.

Wanky Wednesday: Ancient Regime 2

2011-10-19T00:05:00.014+01:00

Say what you like about the Eastern Europeans, but they sure know how to lay on the cane:

That is certainly true of Mood Pictures from Hungary, where the buttocks are stripped and whipped, and the girls whimper pityingly:

Download Ancient Regime 2 by clicking this link!

Yet More Foolish Facebook Girls

2011-10-18T00:45:00.003+01:00

I have said it before and I will say it again: there is something about girls, cameras and Facebook that makes every girl seem to want to be an exhibitionist. Take these firm buttocked lovelies as a case in point. God knows who they are but I know what needs to be said to each and every one of them:

Come here young lady: you know that you deserve this!

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Yulia Tymoshenko

2011-10-17T00:45:00.004+01:00

At the suggestion of a correspondent, an Order of the Burning Buttocks is hereby awarded to Yulia Tymoshenko, of Ukraine. Alas the award cannot be administered for at least seven years because that's how long the lady has been sentenced to prison on corruption charges. However, when she gets out, then here is one large Slav rump that needs to sting.

Normally I don't bother about the lands beyond the Oder-Niesse Line that are known collectively as the Great Slav Wasteland, but there is something about Yulia that makes me want to break my rule.

Maybe it is the ludicrous hairstyle - a fake, by the way - or the sense of arrogant entitlement that the bloody woman had until her recent downfall. Whatever the reason, the only thing that remains to be said is:

Come here young lady: you know that you deserve this!

On being an (almost) published author

2011-10-15T00:05:00.001+01:00

The contract for my book arrived on Friday and has now been signed and is ready to be returned to the American publisher. This means that A Spanking Good Life should be available to buy from Amazon at the end of November.

I went along to a council run internet cafe and printed up the contract. I showed it to the women behind the counter and told her what it was. Her eyes lit up and she started asking questions twenty to the dozen, questions which I thought it politic to evade, given the small town and its mores.

Still, it was quite a delight to be the centre of her world for a moment or so and I am now quite looking forward to attending the odd munch and dropping the information that I am about to become a published author into the conversation.

Let's hear it for naked news!

2011-10-12T16:45:00.003+01:00

This has nothing to do with la cosa nostra, but it has seriously tickled my funny bone so I am running a clip here. Naked News is a Canadian based outfit which presents the news in a rather different way to everyone else.

I don't care what people say: it really is a man's world, isn't it?

More Thoughts on Stupidity

2011-10-11T00:05:00.039+01:00

Last night's posting led to some interesting responses, with a fellow from Newcastle writing in to say:

I read your blog; so its not just me who comes across girls like that !!!!!!! I was told by one that she did not want to betray him... Funny that she was naked and very wet but that is not betraying him..... My finger don't count as a sign of betrayal?

A London reader wrote in to say:

I have stopped meeting girls through Facebook. They either do not turn up or they come out with nonsense like this...

Another man wrote in to offer his congratulations, so that makes three private comments to one posting, which is a record of some kind for the blog. Quite why none of them left their remarks in the comment box is unclear, but all of them insisted that if I did post their words then I should not identify them by name.

It is nice that a post strikes a chord, and it does appear as if my experiences are common across the board. To a certain extent that is understandable: women are a manipulative bunch and they get juicy at the thought of forcing men to bend to their wills. The question is why are so many of them getting away with this game? Surely if a submissive woman runs into a dominant man, then he should be calling the shots?

Sorry, but I am blaming the fellows here. Far too many of you are doing nothing more than role playing and you may be very, very good when you adopt your headmaster's persona, but it is nothing more than an act and the women can see right though it, so of course they can take you for a ride. You deserve it.

Far better to stop playing games, remember what your balls are for, and then stop taking shit.

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Pippa Middleton Yet Again!

2011-10-10T09:45:00.010+01:00

What can we say about Pippa Middleon that hasn't already been said a thousand times already? Here she is in a nice but pretty boring pose on the left, but look below and see her in all her provocative glory.

Pippa you are a saucy young madam. Now come here: you know that you deserve this!

Thoughts on Stupidity

2011-10-10T00:05:00.002+01:00

Yesterday was a fairly rotten day with a depressing amount of rain that was made worse by a depressing amount of female stupidity. To add to my irritation, when I related my tale of woe to Raven Red all I got were hoots of raucous laughter and demands for more information.

A woman in her early thirties e-mailed me from the East-Midlands and following a very brief exchange of mails she rang me on the telephone. Her number was withheld, which is a good sign that she was being serious about all this. The story she told was of a need for discipline as a father disciplines his little girl, and I was only too pleased to slap the phone on to the speakers and chat to her whilst my sausages, bacon and beans were crackling away in the pan.

I was just about to toss a couple of slices of bread into the pan to fry 'em up in the grease when a thought came to mind, which I hastened to share with madam:

"I wonder how it will be when you are all nice and subdued? Will I be looking at your face, all tear-stained, or admiring my handiwork on your rump as I have you doggie fashion?"

There was a sort of pregnant silence at that moment, which I took to be a pause for thought whilst she considered the situation, but I was wrong, wasn't I?

"What type of woman do you think I am?"

"Well, the type who needs her bottom smacking until she is nice and well behaved and ready to be fucked by me."

That was it. Fucking Chernobyl had nothing on that minger as she went critical. I was abusive, a complete shit, I wanted to take advantage of her - fellas, you should have heard the dialogue, it was straight out of a soap opera. I did try to tell her that she did not need to worry as I was not looking for a relationship as I have been involved with Raven for quite some time now. A quickie would be fine by me, but do you think she was mollified by that? No, of course she wasn't.

It was obvious from her comments that madam had gone into manipulation mode and was trying to make me defensive so that I would start apologising and she could then press home her advantage, but I am far too old a dog for that:

"Listen, darlin', nobody is forcing you to do anything that you don't want to, but if you don't do as I tell you then trust me, if you catch fire, I won't cross the fucking street to piss on you to put the flames out."

I was trying to be nice to her and explain the situation, but she sort of began to make funny noises in her throat, so I gave up trying. Funnily enough, as I recounted the tale to Raven it was at that moment that she almost choked on her coffee, so I guess those words marked the climax of the conversation as it were.

She calmed herself down a bit and muttered something about having watched the videos through and through. I pointed out that the videos do not show the shaggings that took place after the shoots were over, but she could trust me when I say that all pussies were stretched. Again, I was just trying to be nice, but she sort of wailed:

"That's not what I need, and you have no right to force me to do what I don't want to do."

That was pretty much when I gave up. If the stupid woman could not understand basic English what more could I say? I said goodbye to her and that was that.

Now this is not the first time that this stupidity has hit me. As I pointed out to Raven, I am getting sick and tired of brainless bitches trying to get me to dance to their tunes. That is one of the reasons why this archive site was set up last year as a way to warn off these little airheads. My theory is that they watch my videos, read what they want to read in the blog, and then write a sort of script with me as the stern but caring daddy who will correct their wilful behaviour more in sorrow than in anger.

What they are doing is role-playing. They write their script and then get into role and expect me to take up the role that they have written for me. Once the play is over, we all take our bows and leave the stage. Raven added to that the notion that I had never considered before which is that these women are engaged in a fantasy, which obviously has sexual connotations. However they don't think that far ahead so when they are brought face to face with that reality by my words, they run - or respond with aggression.

Well, girls, guess what? I don't play, and this is how I am all the time. If you want a strict daddy then there are any number of fellows who will play according to your wishes. However, get involved with me and you do as you are bloody well told and when you cross the invisible line then you get your backside warmed before being taken to bed.

Wanky Wednesday: Free Lupus Videos

2011-10-05T10:45:00.004+01:00

I don't know how long this link will remain live, but at the moment it gives access to five full length Lupus videos! Click on over there and grab whatever you fancy, says kindly old Uncle Nick, who is really keen to get the Wanky Wednesdays off to a flying start!

Book Review: The Romance of Chastisement

2011-10-04T00:45:00.013+01:00

The Romance of Chastisement; or, Revelations of School and Bedroom, by An Expert.

Delectus Classics of Erotic Literature, £19.95

This is one of the great underground classics, so it is to my eternal shame that I have to admit that I have only just read it. And I call myself a libertine...

As the scholarly introduction to the facsimile reprint of the 1888 edition makes clear, this work was originally published by John Camden Hotten in 1871. Hotten was famous for both his pornography and his thievery, being a man who would cheerfully pirate someone else's work, give it a new title and then publish it himself. Thus the version of how this work came into his grasping paws must be treated with some caution. A Nineteenth Century bibliographer, quoted in the introduction, claimed that a thousand copies were printed in Dublin and that Hotton bought 200 to sell in London. I am dubious about that claim since the work appears to be a compilation of short stories which may have circulated in pamphlet form in the London porno circuit of the day. The notion of Hotton paying for 200 copies is also highly unlikely - more probable would be him buying once copy and then pirating the rest. Since no complaints have come down to us of Irish publishers seeking redress, and since there is no record of the other 800 copies, the most likely explanation is that Hotton cobbled the work together himself from some already existing pamphlets.

To be fair to him, if that is what happened then he chose some rather nice works to print up in hardback form. The Romance of Chastisement is full of sweet young ladies who find themselves upended to feel the kiss of the cane or the birch rod's tickle across their bare bottoms. Victorian Pornography was expensive and was written for an upper class readership, so the work is literate and filled with Latin bon mots and French sentences.The modern reader is not going to get turned on with any Victorian work because tastes have changed so much over the last century, but The Romance of Chastisement is an amusing and well written excursion into the mind of the Victorian male.

Is it a must have for your collection? Yes, I would say that it is. The fact that it is so well written means that you can have it in your book case as a conversation piece if nothing else.

Raven's First Anniversary

2011-10-02T00:15:00.004+01:00

Raven Red's blog is celebrating its first anniversary this weekend. Hard though it is to believe, but the good lady has been emoting now for 365 days. Please get over there and give her your good wishes.

September's Munch

2011-09-29T11:15:00.016+01:00

Yesterday being the last Wednesday of the month about twenty of us all turned up at the Central Station bar in King's Cross for what has now become a regular afternoon munch. As regular readers will know your friendly correspondent is not into playing, so was quite happy to sit on the terrace bar glugging alcohol and chatting to all and sundry on that gorgeous afternoon with temperatures in the 80s.

I have Skype installed on my mobile so I called Raven Red in South Africa and then handed the 'phone around so that all her friends could speak to her. That done I settled back to drink another beer...

That said, there was a rather nice looking charmer in a tea dress who was sat chatting to two men and when the three of them went downstairs to the cellar I gave them five minutes to get into the swing of things and then wandered down to see what she looked like bare buttocked and undergoing correction.

They had her bent over, black panties down to her knees, and hands fixed to a St. Andrew's Cross that is a wall fixture. The session left her bottom a fiery red and standing directly behind her I was treated to the delightful sight of moss that glistened with late afternoon dew. I smiled and made the obvious assumption that one or the other would mount her, but they seemed to be content with increasing the fire in her bottom rather than extinguishing the one that had been lit between her thighs.

I worry about the young people of today, I really do.

Glancing to my left I saw a young Japanese girl on her knees unbuckling the belt of a man of a man in his very late 50s who was standing in front of her. Thinking that she had been instructed to provide him with a postprandial desert as it were I wandered over to cast an eye over her blowjob technique. Alas for you, gentle reader, but she was preparing him for a spanking.

So it isn't just the younger generation who I need to worry about...

How not to pull pussy

2011-09-28T00:05:00.001+01:00

I was on the tube yesterday travelling into central London. A young mother was stood next to me with her baby in her arms, so I suggested that she sat down on the free seat next to mine. She misheard me and thought I was asking to hold the baby, which is why I ended up having a ten month old delight plonked onto my knee. She touched my moustache and was fascinated by my glasses and I bounced the little bundle up and down and made her giggle. When I looked up every woman in the carriage was smiling sweetly at me.

I remembered that 16 years ago I had been on a bus in Mexico with my eldest who was then just two years old and a girl had watched me playing with him and had then held him in her arms. We started chatting and the next day I bedded her, and since then I used each baby son as he arrived as pussy fodder, so I decided to chance my arm with a likely looking miniskirt on the tube yesterday.

As I go up to leave I gave her my card along with my self deprecating smile. she smiled rather nicely and I figured that it was a racing cert for a jump, but alas instead of the nice vanilla card I gave her the kinky one with the BDSM triskale which made her eyes widen:

However they almost fell out of her head when she turned the card over and read my quote from John Wilkes on the back:

She hasn't called me yet...

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Female Exhibitionists

2011-09-26T00:05:00.000+01:00

I have mixed feelings about female exhibitionists who enjoy flashing their wares to the delight of their male audience. Part of me enjoys a good perv, but I am fully aware that this is prick teasing of the highest order and such behaviour cannot be allowed to go unpunished. So to all female flashers out there:

Come here young lady: you know that you deserve this!

Telegraph Censors "Commando" Pippa!

2011-09-24T16:15:00.002+01:00

I cannot believe this! The Daily Telegraph gave its perving punters a report on Pippa Middleton's alleged commando moment at the London Fashion Week and then they decide to pull the piece. The story was ridiculous, as I demonstrated when I found the photo and ran it here - that's it reposted on the left. As you can see, perky Pippy is wearing her nicks like a good girl should and I pointed that out in the comment section to the piece and then sat back whilst the hit counter went through the roof. For two hours the hits just flooded in and then the story was culled and my dreams of a record breaking day died.

Not to worry, as just to show all my new readers what a nice fellow I am, giving up my weekend with no thought of reward and all that, at the top of the post is yet another shot of Pippa flashing her gash for your perving pleasure, and on the right and below we have a very nice shot of Kate giving us a leer at her backside, rather fetchingly clad in yellow knickers. Don't ask me who the bald cove is walking with her.

Was Pippa Pantyless at London Fashion Week?

2011-09-24T11:15:00.005+01:00

Was luscious Pippa Middleton pantyless when she took her front row seat during London Fashion Week? This is the question that the Daily Telegraph is asking and kindly old Uncle Nick went off and tracked down the photo which is alleged to show commando Pippa in action.

Hmm, looks like she is wearing panties to me. Damned shame because the rumours surrounding her previous knickerless state were impossible to ignore, so we were hoping for something more than a flash of white cotton.

Better luck next time!

Decisions, Decisions...

2011-09-24T00:05:00.000+01:00

Order of the Burning Buttocks: the Scarlettjohanssoning gang

2011-09-23T00:05:00.020+01:00

It's called Scarlettjohanssoning, and it's the latest internet craze that deserves a mention. Girls are copying Scarlett Johansson's game with the camera, mirror and a nicely rounded bare rump.

What can we say about this craze? Come here you naughty little girls: you know that you deserve this!

A spanking for Marina is on the cards

2011-09-22T00:05:00.002+01:00

Back in May I posted a piece on my spanking philosophy which created quite a bit of discussion. I ended that posting by saying that when women act up "they get spanked. Or they fuck off. One of the two."

Marina was a girl who chose to fuck off after playing up with me in December of last year. As regular reader of this hear blog will know, she is not the easiest women to have around and she is quite capable of having her fair share of female moments, but last December's antics were unique even for her. To say that I was fuming is putting it mildly and Marina was told that off is where she could fuck in no uncertain terms.

Bless her, but I find it hard to stay angry at the Moose - as I call her - because I know that sooner or later she will want something from me and will open negotiations with a view to getting that which she desires. She started trying to worm her way back into my good books in early spring when she left 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.

The Moose got in touch a few days ago and has accepted that she was naughty and that she will be eating her meals standing up and sleeping on her tum for a week, come December when I am in Mexico City.

Feeling rather warm and cuddly I told this tale 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.

Don't you just hate it when women get like that?

Oh, well, at least this only leaves me with one naughty little girl outstanding.

TV Spankings: Rawhide 3

2011-09-19T00:45:00.015+01:00

This is the third episode of Rawhide, the 1960s horse opera, that had a spanking scene in it. Barbara Eden is the girlfriend of the bad guy who is trying to persuade the drovers to go and work for him. Eric Fleming has other ideas, and the rest you can watch for yourself!

Whack To The Future?

2011-09-16T17:45:00.010+01:00

The press is having a field day with the news that roughly half of Britain's parents support the reintroduction of corporal punishment into the country's schools and about twenty percent of their offspring share that view. You may argue that it is unfair for kids to get for free that which their elders pay good money to receive, but that is not the point, is it?

The point is that the ideologically pure at heart over at the Guardian are collectively giving birth to kittens at this news, something which is made even more hilarious by the paper's own poll which shows a quarter of its own readers are in favour of the application of rattan to rumps.

Readers of this blog are cordially urged to get over to the Guardian and vote yes to corporal punishment even if they actually disprove of the notion. Annoying Guardian readers is just a good in itself.

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Scarlett Johansson

2011-09-15T09:15:00.009+01:00

An Order of the Burning Buttocks has been awarded to Scarlett Johansson and through her to any brainless bimbo who owns a camera. Give a pretty girl a camera and stick her in front of a mirror and it is pretty clear that sooner or later she will snap nude photos of herself. It is also fairly obvious that these photos will then be lost and will find their way all over the web. The girl will then start to wail loudly at the unfairness of it all, or go to the FBI, which is what young Scarlett has done.

Come on, fellas, at least it gives us a chance to shake our heads in double wonder. First because the little darlings lose their photos and then for their reaction to their own bout of female stupidity.

Come here, young lady: you know that you deserve this!

Female Delights

2011-09-12T11:15:00.003+01:00

Women, come on, fellas, let's be honest: we love 'em, don't we? We just find it hard to take them seriously, that's all...

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Catalina Robayo

2011-09-12T00:05:00.012+01:00

Meet Catalina Robayo, otherwise known as Miss Colombia, and an entrant in the Miss Universe contest. Catalina managed to forget her panties for a photo shoot the other day with the result that shots of her shaven clam are now all over the web - including this here blog! Just click on the image and watch it grow. The image that is...

Now then, Catalina. If you think that dear old Uncle Nick believes for one moment that this is anything other than a publicity stunt then you are out of your mind. It is a stunt, and we both know that. What's that you are saying? Do you think that I care?

Come here, young lady: you know that you deserve this!

Raven Goes Over My Knee

2011-09-01T00:45:00.018+01:00

I give up with Raven Red, I really do. I tell her that if she doesn't behave then she can expect a trip across my knee and guess what happens? She ignores me and carries on doing her thing. So she has to go across my knee to learn the error of her ways. Again.

Click here for Raven's 36 stroke caning video!

Caning Raven's Bottom

2011-08-30T11:15:00.000+01:00

Raven had been drinking and had then driven her car. I made a note of this and awarded her 36 of the cane for her foolishness:

As you can see, she has a good sized bottom, so I was forced to lay on the strokes with a goodly force so that the lesson was clearly taken on board.

After the full 36 dose I am pleased to report that Raven was a very woebegone girly indeed and has promised me faithfully that she will never repeat her error.

Click here for the full video!

The delights of munching

2011-08-29T00:05:00.006+01:00

Last Wednesday saw what is rapidly becoming a monthly munch at the Central Station bar in London's King's Cross. The idea is to have an open house event one afternoon a month where everyone and his brother can turn up and do their own thing. My thing involved sitting on the roof terrace slurping beer, but Raven found herself being taken down to the cellar area to have her bottom bared and spanked. She returned wriggling nicely and clearly angling for some sympathy from me, but alas sympathy had run out that day, so I left her to wriggle as I glugged another beer.

If you are in central London on the 28th September then do please come along to the Central Station between 1.00 and 6.00pm. Dominic Hyde who normally runs these events sadly has to go into hospital, but he has left the show in my hands as well as that of another fellow.

So don't be shy - make a note of the time, date and place and I look forward to meeting you at next month's munch!

Raven's Roasting!

2011-08-17T00:05:00.002+01:00

Not bad going, even though I say it myself. Raven's bottom after two dozen with the cane - or rather after somewhat more than two dozen as she forgot to count properly. Well, it's her bottom and not mine.

We made a video of the event which has now gone live at my clips' store, so pop over there and grab it for yourself while it is still hot.

Your cock is telling you to click this link!

Uncle Nick's Newest Video Will Star Raven Red!

2011-08-15T00:05:00.008+01:00

I was sitting in front of the TV set late yesterday when Raven announced that she wanted to make a video. I raised my eyebrows, but she is serious so the first part of the shoot will take place this coming week. All being well the clips should be available by the end of the month.

Stay tuned for more details later on in the week!

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Laura Johnson

2011-08-12T00:05:00.007+01:00

At the recommendation of a correspondent named Ben, an Order of the Burning Buttocks is awarded to nineteen year old Laura Johnson from Orpington in Kent. She is one of the people accused of theft during the recent riots, but since she has pleaded not guilty to the charge, obviously we cannot have her thrashed for that.

However, since she is is an undergraduate at the University of Exeter, a Sloane institution if ever there was one, the chance to have this pert young miss bent over for a taste of the birtch rod across her bared buttocks is just too good to miss:

Come here, young lady: you know that you deserve this!

The world of the dickless dwarf

2011-08-09T00:45:00.018+01:00

Raven Red is out of sorts, and for the same reason as last year: namely being let down by a sad-arsed loser with a dick the size of my little finger.

What Raven enjoys is chatting to people on-line and occasionally making an arrangement to meet them for a session. The problem is that far too many people are wannabes who shit their loads when they realise that a real live woman has landed on their shores. Then the flurry of e-mails dries up and after about a week they start to write to her again with some horribly complicated excuse for their earlier silence. A meeting is arranged and some more mails are sent - and then a final mail is received giving out the puerile and pathetic excuses for the cancellation.

I remember a friend of mine in the trade saying to me many years ago that she could dress a sexy 18 year old up as a schoolgirl, put her across the average sad-arsed punter's knee, and the tosspots still wouldn't have the bottle to do anything. They live in their own little fantasy world, but sadly for Raven, occasionally they manage to fool her into thinking that they are men, instead of pathetic, inadequate losers.

TV Spankings: Rawhide 2

2011-08-08T16:15:00.024+01:00

Quite why Eric Fleming is dressed in a Confederate officer's uniform is unclear, but this is the second of three spankings that featured in Rawhide, the 1960s horse-opera. The first we ran back in May and the final one will feature here next week. Say what you like about these old series, they could always be relied upon to have a feisty young heroine who just needed to be taken down a notch or two.

Raven Red's Diet Plans

2011-08-08T09:45:00.006+01:00

As many of you already know, Raven is trying to lose weight. On Saturday she announced casually that if I allowed her to get away with diet-cheating then she would consider herself absolved from all and any responsibility for any weight that may be gained. It seems that it is all my fault for not supervising her eating and making sure that she keeps to her diet.

And women wonder why men don't take them seriously...

Daddy's Girl

2011-08-08T00:05:00.003+01:00

I am sorry, daddy. I didn't mean it, honestly. Please, you can't do that to me. Daddy! I'm a big girl now!

Socialising Nicely

2011-08-05T10:15:00.005+01:00

I really enjoyed the event last week organised by Dominic Hyde in London. Now, sadly, he is coming under pressure from various types who want the event to become an invitation-only affair. Put another way, the fuckers want to exclude the people that they don't like and have threatened to boycott the event unless this or that person is banned.

Dom takes the view that all dislikes should be left at the door and if you don't like someone then just ignore them and chat to someone else, which is my view as well. At the last munch I saw a fellow who wasted a day of my life back in January with his fantasises of video production; fantasies which he did not have the bottle to follow through with. I was civil to him and spent the afternoon chatting to other people - there are three floors at this bar so you can ignore whomsoever you please!

Come on, folks. It was a great event, thanks to Dom's efforts, so let's look forward to the next one and leave the rancour outside.

Raven's First English Caning of 2011

2011-08-04T09:15:00.019+01:00

As the rainbow spread its radiance over the local chinkie chippie, inside my house Raven Red was about to learn that failure to keep to an agreement has consequences for the bottom.

I think that the lesson has been taken to heart, don't you?

New Blog on the block: The Punishment Book

2011-08-03T13:45:00.029+01:00

Dominic Hyde, pictured left with some bird whose name escapes me, has decided to start his own blog called The Punishment Book, and I am happy to give him a plug.

Known also as Daihard, this sympathetic and incredibly witty bloke has been around the spanking world for many a long year and is the organiser of the monthly London munch, the first one of which I attended last week.

Although he has been teaching recalcitrant females to mind their manners since God's dog was a pup, he is a recent addition to the blogging fraternity, so please click on the link and visit his site to encourage him into remaining a regular member of this addictive blogging club.

On going to a play-munch

2011-08-03T00:05:00.006+01:00

If you bolt a meeting onto a lunch you get a munch, so we are assured, and Dominic Hyde decided to have one last week at the Central Station bar in London. The nice thing about this is that the bar has a sex licence so all sorts of things are allowed to pass there, including BDSM activities in the basement area. So this was a play munch with chaps like me sat on the terrace talking to all and sundry, whilst enthusiastic players whacked the living daylights out of sundry backsides down in the cellar.

I had little urge to go down the stairs, partly because Raven had only just flown in that very day from South Africa and was totally cream crackered by the experience, but mainly because smacking bottoms in cellars is just not my thing. Smacking them in bedrooms where the owner of the bottom can be reduced to a state of humiliated submission prior to receiving my cock is one thing, but what do I get out just administering a spanking? The whole deal strikes me as too much topping from the bottom, thank you very much, and that is not my bag at all.

That said, I did get to chat with a rather nice ethnic Japanese girl and I did agree to escort her downstairs and whilst we were winding our way to the basement I did make it plain that knickers always come down and spankings are invariably hard. I had never upended a Daughter of Nippon before and figured that the experience would be memorable. Clearly it was for her as she wrote to me the next day telling me that verily I spanked her very hard. Not that I hadn't warned her...

I found out from Raven also the next day that as I was getting up to go off with the girl she had signalled to Raven that she wanted me to spank her and that Raven had nodded her agreement. This has left me wondering if the South African had not also signalled that this was conditional upon the Nipponese remaining unfucked.

Bloody women - they get their own way, don't they?

A near spanking for a cyclist

2011-08-01T00:05:00.000+01:00

I was walking along the Upper Richmond Road with a belly full of beer and my trusty walking stick in hand to give some stability to my dodgy legs when a 20-something girl hared towards me on her bicycle. She was obviously not going to stop and assumed that I would get out of her way; a big mistake on her part.

I was about to brace the walking stick horizontally in front of me as protection, when at the very last moment she swerved to one side and ran past me. The guy who was with me said that she had a look of utter fury on her face because someone had the temerity to force her to slow down. In the north, only kids get on two wheels, but here in London it seems to be a lifestyle choice for the urban middle class - and my guess is that madam came into that fairly loathsome subspecies of humanity.

She stopped about twenty yards past me, obviously to recover her composure, and I took the opportunity to say in a goodly voice that the fine for riding on the pavement is up to £300, but she had more to fear from the spanking that I would give her than the courts. Then, without further ado, I turned and made my way back to the house, feeling all happy inside.

As my companion said, say what you like about Uncle Joe Stalin, but there was not a whiff of trouble from people like that in his day.

Welcoming Raven Red to England

2011-07-30T19:15:00.004+01:00

Raven Red arrived in the UK on Wednesday and is currently settling in rather nicely here in London as you can see from the above video that I grabbed just today.

We are heading off to the north on Monday, but will be back for the August munch on the 24th at the Central Station bar. The first one we went to was held on the very day she arrived, but we managed to get there and a good time was had by the pair of us - see my report on the even coming up next week!