Mrs. Scully on F/M Sunday

Today’s guest author is BJ who wrote for CF Publications. This story is from 1999. You can still find BJ at



Mrs. Scully

Joe and Steve got out of the army in early August, 1972. The had both been
lucky; neither had gone to Vietnam. Now they were both free to get on with their
lives. Joe had no immediate plans but Steve was already enrolled at Providence
College for the fall term. So Joe accepted Steve’s invitation to come home with
him for a few weeks until he decided what to do with himself. What the hell,
they had been good buddies since basic. Pretty soon life would break up their
friendship so why not hang together for a little while longer?

Besides Joe really had nowhere else to go. He had been so anxious to get away
from his own family that he had joined the army as soon as he graduated from
high school. There was no way he would return to his home town. He had some
vague thoughts of going up to Alaska to work on the proposed oil pipeline but
that could wait. Joe knew that Steve had been raised by a single mother who was
now Dean of Students at a local woman’s college. He wasn’t sure if there was
ever a father in the picture. Just the same Steve seemed like he came from a
happy home. He seemed more stable that most other guys. He had more self
discipline than Joe. He could be just a wild as anyone else at times but he
always knew when to stop, when having fun turned into hurting someone or getting
yourself into trouble.

Joe admired Steve. If he had been more like his friend he would have found his
two years in the service a lot easier to handle. So Joe was anxious to see what
Steve’s home life was really like. Maybe he would learn something.

Joe was stunned when he first met Steve’s mother. She was 5’8″, had short auburn
hair and was absolutely beautiful. Although she was in her mid forties she
looked about ten years younger. She was dressed in a light blue summer suit that
made her look like the professional she was but did not, in anyway, hide her
figure. Joe was impressed. If she hadn’t been Steve’s mother he would have put
the moves on her!

The love between mother and son was evident. Joe was almost embarrassed by the
display of affection between the two of them. Then, he wasn’t used to it. No one
had ever hugged in his family or show the slightest trace of emotion. They never
even touched each other. To someone used to cold comfort such a visible display
of warmth took some getting used to. Mrs. Scully took them out to diner that
first night. It was the fanciest restaurant Joe had ever been to. He felt a bit
uncomfortable among the finery and had some trouble with the menu but both Steve
and Mrs. Scully did their best to put him at ease. They didn’t make him feel
like he was any less of a person because he wasn’t used to the finer things in
life. They were helpful without being condescending.

Joe thought he was beginning to understand why Steve was such a good guy. If he
had been brought up by a mother like that he would have turned out the same way.
Well, it was too late now! Of course, Joe didn’t really understand, but he
would! He would find out that it was never really too late, that a boy is never
too old to be brought up right!

As good a time as Joe was having he was anxious to hit a few bars, have a couple
of beers and meet some girls. Especially the girls. Being around Steve’s mom was
making him awfully horny. Since she was obviously not available he needed to
find someone else.

The boys announced their plans at the end of dinner. Mrs. Scully raised no
objections and even slipped Steve an ten dollar bill. As they were parting
though she smiled sweetly and told Steve not to drink too much and not to stay
out too late.

“Remember, you’re still my little boy.” She had said as they walked away.

As it turned out they did drink too much and were out much later than they
intended to. It was all Joe’s fault. He was having to good time to go home. He
didn’t end up with any of the girls they ran into. The only woman he could think
about was Mrs. Scully. But he enjoyed the music and the beer and the sheer
chaotic freedom of it all!

Steve kept trying to get him to leave but Joe would just smile and buy another
round. “Hey, come on man, my mother told me not to drink to much!” ‘Hey, Steve,
you’re twenty one years old! You just got out of the army. Your free! You
deserve a good time!”

“Ya, but, my mother.”

“Will you relax? You’re not a kid anymore. What’s she gonna do to you?”

Steve looked Joe right in the eyes. He was about to answer, then thought better
of it. Instead he and took another sip of his beer.

“You’re right, man! I’m an adult. What’s she going to do to me?”

It was after 2 A.M. when they stumbled loudly into the house. Steve tried to
sush Joe for fear of waking up his mother He need not have worried. She was
awake and waiting for them.

“Well, Steven. Your first night home and you’re already drunk and disorderly! I
was hoping that you might have grown up from your military experience but,
obviously, you have not. It seems that the army doesn’t make a man out of
everyone, at least not the type of man I find acceptable. Perhaps it is just as
well that I discovered your continuing immaturity so soon. Best that we
re-establish the status quo ante regarding discipline as soon as possible.”

Seeing that Steve was just too inebriated to stay awake much longer she sent
them off to bed saying that she would deal with him first thing in the morning.

It was around nine in the morning that Mrs. Scully entered the bedroom. Steve
was still asleep while Joe had just awakened. Joe scrambled to pull the covers
over him. He’d been sleeping in the raw. He might as well have not bothered,
however. Mrs. Scully walked right past him without looking and stood over
Steve’s bed.

Steve was sprawled out on his stomach clad in his boxer shorts. Joe saw that
Mrs. Scully was carrying something that looked like a board in her right hand.
She raised it up and brought it down onto Steve’s bottom. WHACK! Steve came
immediately awake and jumped up grabbing his cheeks. He looked angry until he
saw his mother standing there looking with that stern and determined look he
knew too well!

“Steven! Your fist night home and you’ve disgraced yourself already. It’s plain
to see that whatever discipline you received in the army wasn’t sufficient!
Well, you’re home now. You’ll have to live by my rules and under my discipline!
You know what to do.”

“Aw, Mom! I’m too old for that!”

“Don’t, ‘Aw Mom,’ me! You certainly aren’t too old as long as you behave like a
child! Now march!”

Steve got out of bed and walked over to the chair next to his desk. He bent over
the back of the chair resting his hands on the seat. Naturally this left his
bottom in a most vulnerable position. Mrs. Scully came up behind him and yanked
his shorts down until they fell to the floor.


“My god! She’s going to spank him!” Joe couldn’t believe it was happening and
right in front of him! No wonder Steve had been so anxious to get home last
night! Mrs. Scully was taking aim. For the first time Joe saw what she was
using. It was the paddle board he had seen hanging in the kitchen. He had
assumed it was used as a cutting board but he saw how wrong he had been.

Mrs. Scully swung the paddle with both hands against Steve’s bare ass. WHACK!
Steve jumped but stayed in position. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Twelve times in all
the hard paddle connected with Steve’s tender rear end! Joe didn’t know how
Steve kept from bawling like a baby. His behind was crimson! It must have hurt
like hell!

Mrs. Scully put the paddle down. She placed her left hand firmly in the small of
Steve’s back and began spanking him with her right. The hand spanks couldn’t
have hurts as much but they were landing against an already sore bottom! Before
long poor Steve was bawling and wriggling his ass in a most unmanly manner.
After Steve was reduced to tears Mrs. Scully stopped spanking but kept him
firmly in position.

“I’m sorry I had to do that, Steven. You really should be too old to spank by
now. Until you’re behavior tells me otherwise, however, I shall have to continue
to paddle you”
She gave him a few more solid whacks and told him to get dressed. Steve walked,
naked, to the bathroom clutching and rubbing his burning bottom. As he left Mrs.
Scully turned to Joe.

“Joseph, I realize that you’re just as guilty as Steven. However I have no
authority to punish you as you deserve. If you were mine I would most certainly
paddle you for your behavior last night. I believe that you are probably even
more culpable in this affair than Steven. I think you have proven to be a bad
influence on Steven. So the sooner you are gone the better!”

Joe felt terrible! He really felt like he had alienated Mrs. Scully, a women he
not only desired but also respected. Now he had to leave. While she hadn’t
exactly thrown him out she’d made it clear his presence was no longer wanted. He
didn’t want to leave. He really felt at home here for some reason.

Joe didn’t know what to do. He wanted to discuss it with Steve but he was in no
mood to talk. Joe could feel Steve’s sense of humiliation being paddled on the
bare butt in front of his army buddy. Steve hardly said a word to Joe. He
showered and left the house saying something about buying some new clothes.

Joe wanted to make it up with Mrs. Scully in some way. He tried to think of some
gesture that would appease her anger. Try as he might, however, he could only
think of one thing. He wasn’t too sure he could go through with that but it was
the only way. He gathered up his courage and entered the study where Mrs. Scully
sat working at her desk.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Scully. I came to apologize.”

“Yes, Joseph. Go on.”

“You were right, it was more my fault than Steve’s last night. He wanted to go
home but I convinced him to stay.”

“I was aware of that, Joseph. I know Steven very well and I’ve formed a very
good idea about your character, or, should I say, lack of character.”

That last remark stung if only because it was so true. Yet Joe let it slip by
and continued.

“I don’t think it’s fair that Steve should be punished for something that was
really my fault.”

“Steven has free will. He could have left at any time. It was his choice. He
deserved exactly what he got! As for you, you certainly need to be punished but,
as I said, you are not mine to discipline.”

“That’s just it, Mrs. Scully. I mean, why not? Okay, I messed up good and maybe
I’ve go it coming but if you don’t give it to me who will? ”

“Joseph, are you suggesting . . . ?”

“I just don’t want you mad at me. I don’t want to have to leave! I like Steve
too much; I like you too much. If I have to take a spanking to stay than I’ll
take it. Please!

She was touched by his heartfelt sincerity! The poor boy looked so desperate, so
contrite! He was on the verge of tears. She rose and took his hands in hers and
looked into his eyes. They seemed to be pleading with her.

“All right Joseph. If a spanking is what you want than that’s what you’ll get.
Goodness know you deserve it! I’ll return in a moment. When I do I want to find
you bent over the chair with your trousers around you ankles.”

She returned with the paddle to find that Joe had done as he was told. He was
bent over the chair looking embarrassed and uncomfortable but his pants were
down! Obviously, he intended to go through with this.


She moved around behind him and yanked down his shorts. She wasn’t prepared for
the wave of feeling that washed over her as she fully exposed him. She had
paddled her son bare on numerous occasions but this was the first time she had
pulled down another male’s underpants from behind. And this one was certainly
full grown in more ways than one. His legs and buttocks were youthful and tight.
Plus he was, unless she was really mistaken, almost fully aroused!

Much to her surprise, she found herself becoming excited. She had always thought
of spanking as pure punishment. She knew that there were people who became
sexually aroused from spanking but she had never thought she was one of them.
Still, this was the first chance she had to paddle a strange man’s bare bottom!

She exercised her rather impressive will to force those sexual thoughts from her
mind. She couldn’t process them right then. They were just too new, to alien.
Besides, she had a real spanking to administer to very deserving bottom.
Joseph was well aware of his state of arousal. His main concern was hiding it
from Mrs. Scully. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea because, in this
case, it was the right idea! Sure, he had been with women before but this was
very different! He was presenting his rear end, naked and vulnerable to a women
he desired, a woman old enough to be his mother. This combination of
circumstances led him to feel ashamed at what was a perfectly natural response.

Using both hands she administered the same twelve whacks to Joe’s behind as she
had Steven’s. If she paused a little longer between strokes it was only for
effect and not necessarily to admire her handiwork. Poor Joe took his twelve
with the board quite badly. He yelped and moaned and wriggled around. Every time
he wriggled he revealed a little of his erect penis to her wondering gaze.

After she finished with the board she continued with her hand. If she sometimes
left her hand on Joe’s burning cheeks between whacks it was only to rest her
arm. She felt the warmth radiating from Joe’s crimson behind. It was a new
sensation and most pleasant! Still, she kept her mind well focused on what she
was supposed to be doing.

When she finished spanking she kept her hand cupped over the cleft in his

“Joseph, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Are you sorry for what you did?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Good! And it won’t happen again, will it?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Because if it does you know what you’ll get! As a matter of fact, as long as
you stay here you’ll be subject to the same rules and discipline as Steven. Do
you understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Does that mean I can stay?”

“As long as you like under the conditions I’ve outlined. Do you understand and

“Yes, Mrs. Scully. Thank you.”

“Very well, Joseph. You may get dressed now.”

She left the room before Joe straightened up. That was fine with him! There was
no risk of accidentally displaying his erection and shocking Mrs. Scully. He
never thought that she had been well aware of his state. (Young men never
realize that older women are not so easily shocked.) She had gone away quickly
in order to avoid embarrassing him. Besides she decided that a quick change in
underwear was definitely necessary!

When Steve returned, Joe told him what had happened.

“I couldn’t let you take the rap alone. It was more my fault than it was yours.
Besides, it was either that or I’d have to leave.”

“Ya, well, thanks, I guess. Mom can be a real Prussian sometimes!”

“Don’t I know!” Joe grinned as he rubbed his behind. “Don’t I know!”
“Sorry about this morning. I guess I was kind of embarrassed. Getting paddled,
bare assed, by my mom in front of you. You know.”

“Ya, but don’t worry about it. I wish my mom had cared that much about me.”

The following days were uneventful except that Joe and Mrs. Scully were quietly
falling in love with each other. Neither one said anything about their growing
feelings but they talked about everything else under the sun. They always seemed
to be in each other’s company without actually seeming to do so on purpose. Joe
saw less and less of Steve and more and more of his mother.

Then Steve went down to Newport for the weekend with a bunch of friends from
high school. Joe was invited but declined.

“I’d just be in the way. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Old friends, old
times. You know.”

What Joe said was true enough as far as it went. He was well aware, though, that
he would be left alone with Mrs. Scully. This would be his opportunity to
approach her, to speak from his heart and take his chances. If he only knew that
best way to go about it!

He had all day, Friday, to think about it. Steve had gone and Mrs. Scully hadn’t
returned from the college. He busied himself around the house for a while; read
the paper, watched some TV. He feel asleep on the couch around four and woke up
around five. He decided to take a shower before Mrs. Scully returned.

He went up to the bedroom and stripped down to the buff. He grabbed a towel and
walked casually into the bathroom. He got the shock of his life. Mrs. Scully was
sitting in the tub! They both screamed in surprise. Her hands covered her
breasts while his flew to cover his crotch. Naturally he dropped his towel. He
bent to pick it up and used tried to wrap it around his waist. It was all right
for a second but hen it slipped off. He picked it up again and began backing up
to the door, trying not to look at her but unable to turn away.

“God! I’m sorry, Mrs. Scully I didn’t know you were her! Oh my god! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t you know enough to knock before you enter a woman’s bathroom!”

“No! Yes! I mean I always knock! I’ll leave.”

Joe raced out of the bathroom and down the hall, dropping his towel once again
in the process. He didn’t bother stopping to pick it up, intent only on reaching
the realtive safety of his room. He’d only just closed the door behind him,
though, when Mrs. Scully opened it and entered. She was wearing a small towel
wrapped around her head and a large bath towel wrapped around her body. Her skin
still glistened with moisture.

Joe was still naked when she entered the room. He turned his back to her in an
attempt to find something, anything, to cover himself with.

“Don’t you turn your back to me, young man! You turn right around and face me.”

Joe turned, blushing with embarrassment, his only covering two strategically
placed hands.

“You should be ashamed of yourself walking around the house without a stitch on.
This is not the army. This is a respectable household and we do not parade
around in our birthday suits. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Perfectly. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were home. I’ll get dressed

“You didn’t know I was home? Did it ever occur to you to check first before you
paraded around the house exhibiting you naked body.”

No Ma’am, it didn’t. It should have. I promise I’ll never do it again.”

“How can I believe you. How can I be sure you weren’t aware I was in that
bathtub. Maybe you entered without a stich on with a purpose. Perhaps you’re an
exhibitionist. Perhaps you’d enjoy showing off your naked body, your private
parts, to women. Maybe you get a sexual thrill from it.”

“No, Mrs. Scully. You’ve got to believe me. I’m just not that way!”

“Oh, really! Then prove it too me.”

“Sure.” Joe was puzzled. “How?”

“Remove your hands from in front.”


“You know what I mean. Uncover! Let’s just see if you’re aroused or not.”

Poor Joe! Of course he was aroused. He was with the women he loved; he was
naked, she was nearly so. Of course he was aroused but she would take it the
wrong way. There really was no help for it, however, for soon his hands would no
longer serve to hide what was rising beneath them. He moved his hands away and
his arousal became most apparent.
“You dirty boy! You are aroused! I’ve a good mind to put you across my knee
right here and now! As a matter of fact, I will!”

With that she led Joe over to the bed and sat down.

“Get that fanny across my lap and be quick about it.”

Joe crawled awkwardly across her knee. she began to rain blows down on his
bottom. This hand spanking didn’t hurt half as much as the paddle had. Oh, it
stung nicely but warmed much more than just his bottom. It felt different
somehow as if her intention was other than punishment.

“If you ever walk into my bathroom again without knocking I’ll take a switch to
you! Whap! Whap! Whap! “What do you mean by parading around my house naked!”
Whap! Whap! Whap! Do you think I’m too old to think about sex?” Whap! Whap!
Whap! “Are you trying to tease an old lady! Whap! Whap! Whap! “Well, answer me!”

“No!” Joe practically shouted.

“No, what?” Whap! vlcsnap-2016-02-23-16h18m30s916

“No, you’re not old. You’re beautiful! I love you!”

“You love me?”

“Yes, I love you!”

“Oh, my god, Joseph. I love you too!”

She helped Joe to his feet and stood to hug him. As she did her towel slipped
down and they met in a naked embrace. They made love right there and then! There
passion for each other was to explosive to hold back another second!

Much later they lay together in bed, talking softly.

“I’m sorry I spanked you, Joe. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. But when I
saw you standing there I wanted you so badly! I didn’t think you’d ever want
someone like me. It was just so frustrating. I guess I took it out on your
bottom as a substitute for what I really wanted.”

“I’m not sorry, Grace. I like it when you spank me. It makes me feel loved. It
really turns me on!”

“I know!” She crooned into his ear. Then she became a bit more serious. “But I
not sorry for the paddling I gave you the other day. You did deserve that one.”

“Yes, I did. I probably will again. I’ve got a lot of growing up to do, I know,
and I’m going to need your help.”
“And you’ll get it! I’ll see to it your brought up right if I have to bend you
over ten times a day!” She said with mock seriousness.

“I know you will! But you’d better watch your step too. Or else!”

“Or else what?” She teased.

“Or else I might give you a taste of your own medicine!” He gave her a love pat
across her fanny.

She cuddled closer to him.

“Now, that might be very interesting!” She cooed.

A Jailhouse Punishment

This excerpt is a judicial punishment scene from my novel, Secret Spanking Cult.


This novel was originally entitled “Atonement,” and it is still available under that title from Blushing Books.

Atone new 1.3

I tend to like judicial scenes. There is something fascinating about state-ordered corporal punishment and I frequently include these in my novels. In this scene the two traveling companions of the daughter of a renowned scientist have been arrested on bogus charges of prostitution. The scientist’s daughter has gone missing in what appears to be an attempt at extortion through kidnapping to steal the scientist’s invention. I try to intervene but I’m too late.

[photo stills by].


The jail was a brand new concrete and glass building along the river south of town. In fact everything in the town looked brand new, like all of a sudden there had been an infusion of money. I opted for a small diner to have breakfast in, like one the locals might use. A friendly waitress with plastic rimmed glasses and big hair was not shy about telling me all about changes in the town.

“Those church folk came in here and things really took off. Built a new high school, civic hall, and that park on the river. Real nice people. Keep to themselves, though. That compound of theirs is up on Panther Ridge, up where those DC people used to have summer cabins. Tore ’em all down, built that center. They’ve been good for the town though, so I guess the powers that be leave ’em alone to do their thing–whatever it is.”

“You been up there?”

“Lord, no. You just can’t go up there. It’s guarded and everything.”

I considered this as I headed for the county lockup. The town seemed clean, bright and prosperous. Had building that retreat center pumped that much money into the economy? One thing was sure, if the attitude of my waitress that morning was any indication. The town liked the money that came from the Revelation Church of the Atonement and were content not to ask too many questions.

At reception at the Pendleton County Correctional Center, I encountered a portly desk sergeant who seemed to be in charge.

“I represent Libby Mason. I understand she is here in custody and has been charged with a crime. I’d like to see my client.”

“Well, I’d let you see her, young feller,” he drawled, ” but truth is, she ain’t here.”

“I was told she was in custody.”

“She ain’t here now. She was released from our custody.”

What the hell? “Released to whom?”

“Them church people arranged it–took her out last night. Plea bargain deal. Her friends weren’t so lucky. They were tried. Found guilty. Sentenced to 90 lashes each, the little pullets,” he chuckled. “In fact, they get the first 30 this mornin’. It’s quiet around here today, so I tell you what–you act as civilian witness–regs say we got to have one–and you can talk to ’em afterwards. If they feel like talkin’ that is. I imagine all they gonna be doin’ for awhile is cryin’ their pretty eyes out. They’re gonna get a right smart whippin’ this morning.” He shoved a form at me. “Fill this out, and we’ll take you to the Corner–that’s what we call it. They’re going to carry out the sentence directly.”

I hastily filled out the form. “How are they to be punished? And when was this trial?” I said impatiently. This didn’t sound like due process–though it was well known that in the wake of various states’ corporal punishment initiatives–many out of the way places dispensed rough justice, without much regard for constitutional niceties.

“Whoa…Mr Hand,” he said noting my name. “First off, the trial was held in special session two days ago. They had the public defender. They were found guilty. Second, what they get is the  5 tail cat–it’s a whip with 5 thongs–we call it the “pussy cat”, right across their bare little tails. Now here’s Bobby Sue,” he said, nodding to a hefty uniformed middle aged matron approaching the desk. “Take Mr Hand here to the witness viewing area in the Corner.”


“Come with me, Mr Hand.” I walked with her down a corridor then out across an interior yard over toward a block-like structure in the corner of the yard. She chatted as we walked.

“Yeah, can you believe it? These little madams comin’ down here for the weekend and trying to pick up our men and lure them to sin. Well we have a cure for that–a red hot bottom, that’s what. They’ll think twice now before they ply their tricks in this county.”

“Ah, can I ask…if you know…what exactly was the evidence that they were, um, soliciting?”

“Why, the complaint was made by Earl Judson, a fine upstanding man, a deacon at my church. They were out on the road thumbin’ a ride and Earl picked ’em up. Next thing you know they want to do all kinds of things to Earl–for money. Well, Earl didn’t take ’em where they was goin’. Brought them back here and told the sheriff. He locked them up so fast their heads was spinnin’. Now I think a good old fashioned whippin’ will teach them a thing or two. Here we are. We call this the Corner. It’s our disciplinary block.”

The Corner was a high ceiling building, very utilitarian. There was a glass partition for spectators and some chairs. Inside the glass was a large chamber, maybe thirty by forty feet. There were two fixtures that looked like a type of exercise apparatus. One was an inclined frame that was narrow, like an easel affixed to a vertical post. It had a pair of rails joined at the apex and flaring out toward the ground to about a foot apart. There was an adjustable padded crosspiece between the rails and what were buckling straps for wrists and ankles at appropriate heights. The other device was a low bench with a cylindrical bolster in the middle and a series of straps for securing a person face down. There were leather straps and multi-thonged whips of various lengths hanging from pegs on the wall. The room was obviously used as a storeroom, too. There were boxes and cartons of stuff all around along with building materials and rolls of carpeting stacked along one end. The lighting was incandescent which gave the interior the look of a gloomy shed, refitted for the grim purpose of punishment.


I could hear voices approaching from a corridor at an opposite wall. They were frantic high-pitched voices and they were pleading and protesting.

“Please no, we didn’t do anything. This is a big mistake. WE didn’t solicit anything…please believe me…that man…he is lying.”

“Yes, look, we were just on a camping trip…no please…”

Two attractive girls, each about twenty years old, were hustled into the room on the arms of a matron in the garb of a sheriff’s deputy. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs. They wore nothing but underwear, full cut white panties and white tank tops. Apparently they’d been prepared for the whipping back at their cells. One was tall with long light brown hair, the other was a short busty blonde with big blue eyes. Both were pretty. The brunette had long legs and was slim-waisted with narrow hips. The blonde was more voluptuous but had a pinched waist, wide flaring hips and athletic, almost stocky, legs.

The girls quailed visibly and sagged at the knees when they saw the dull black padded whipping frame, now bathed in light from overhead spotlights, and the rack of implements on the wall.

“Oh, no,” wailed the blonde, “Oh my God…please don’t do this to us.”

The guards paid no attention. This was routine. Another day at the office.

A man in a rumpled uniform entered, along with another female deputy and a tall athletic-looking younger woman dressed in a workout suit like a gym teacher’s. She looked big and well-muscled, like she lifted weights. She had on shorts and a sleeveless blouse; sturdy Reeboks with good traction. She’s the whipper, I thought. Yep, she walked over to the wall and studied the rack of flagellation devices, finally selecting a whip with several thin thongs about two feet long. She swished it around, testing its weight and flex.

“Lori, you got the right whip?” said the uniformed man. “Sentence calls for the adult female correctional martinet.”

“Yes I do, sheriff. It’s this one here,” said the young woman in the gym garb.

“Well then let’s get started.” Turning to the girls he said, “Mary Beth Quinlan and Celeste Jensen. You two have been convicted of soliciting for prostitution. The judge pronounced sentence, which in this county is ninety lashes and an order to stay out of the county for two years. We cannot give you all ninety lashes today. They will be given to you in intervals of forty-eight hrs. You will get the first thirty here and now.”

“But we didn’t do anything…we were just walking–our ride left us,” the brunette was pleading, the blonde nearly in tears.

“Too late for that. The judge has spoken. Let’s get on with it.” Nodding to the brunette’s matron he said, “Start with her, that’s ah…Miss Quinlan.” He looked at his Order to make sure.

The matron said, “Come on honey. It’ll be best if you cooperate–you could get your sentence increased. You don’t want that, now.”

Protesting and shaking in fear, Mary Beth let herself be led over to the frame. Quickly and efficiently, as if this move had been practiced or performed many times, two matrons unlocked her cuffs, bent her forward and cuffed her wrists and ankles to the frame. Her body was extended along the frame at a forty-five degree angle. One of the matrons reached underneath her and slid the crossbar along the frame until it rested right at her pelvic bone. This made her buttocks stick out from the frame. After the frame had been adjusted, the girl with the whip, Lori, nodded to Mary Beth’s matron. She came up behind Mary Beth and hooked her fingers in the waistband of the panties the girl wore. Mary Beth shrieked in protest but the matron slid the flimsy garment down to Mary Beth’s knees. Her bare bottom and the backs of her thighs were now framed between the short tank top and the bunched up panties.tumblr_n5fkdhZd3A1suzvb1o1_500


Mary Beth was tall but had nicely rounded bottom cheeks. She shivered in fear and looked anxiously back over her shoulder at Lori with wide frightened eyes. Lori was positioning herself, measuring the distance so as to be able to strike properly with the multi-thonged whip. There were five thongs, thin, like bootlaces, and very supple. She pulled the strands through her fingers, drew back her arm, and with a smooth practiced motion brought the whip down square across the crowns of Mary Beth’s buttocks. The nude bottom cheeks rippled at the impact. Mary Beth let out a screech.

Whisssh….thwack! Another stroke raised livid red weals. Mary Beth yelled in anguish.

Whooosh…swick! “Yeowww!….please, no! It hurts!”


Whissh…swick! More red lines appeared across the pale bottom cheeks. Another shriek from Mary Beth.

It took five minutes to administer Mary Beth’s whipping. The lashes were administered ten seconds apart, and each one was given with the full strength of Officer Lori’s arm. Mary Beth tried to dance to avoid the whip but only ended up making her bottom jiggle lewdly. Thin red lines merged into a crimson, then nearly purple band of welts that ran from the top of her ass to the tops of her thighs. She wept with pain and embarrassment. The lashing continued until all thirty strokes had been duly meted out.


The matron released the straps. Mary Beth was crying profusely. She had to be held up by her guards who yanked her panties back up over her swollen rear. It hurt so much she could only touch herself gingerly.

Now it was Celeste’s turn. She appeared to almost swoon as the sheriff motioned for them to secure her to the frame. Celeste was a short blonde with her hair in a ponytail and bangs in front. She had muscular thighs which almost made her look stocky, but she had a narrow waist and a prominent bubble-shaped rear. Strapped to the frame, and bending slightly, her behind jutted back inviting the whip.

Celeste yelped as her panties were jerked down around her knees baring her full white bottom. Lori assumed a businesslike stance to her left and, dipping her body for a windup drew the whip back and swooshed it down. It struck with the same dry thwack! The strands rebounded from Celeste’s bouncing bottom. The ripe globes of her fanny rippled with impact and Celeste shrieked in pain.


The young fit officer whipped Celeste with a will, determined to punish the pretty coed as severely as the law allowed. Lash after lash decorated Celeste’s bounding fanny with thin red weals. Celeste squealed and wriggled as much as Mary Beth had, but Lori was unmoved. When the thirtieth lash had fallen, Celeste was taken down. Both girls continued to sob as they were led away.

The female deputy that brought me in escorted me back to the desk. For the first time I noticed that she had different insignia on her uniform from that of the sheriff. I asked her about it.

“Oh that’s because this is a contract facility. I’m not part of the sheriff’s office proper.”

“Who runs this facility?”

“Well this here is the county lockup, work farm and correctional unit. I work for the outfit that runs it for the county–Corpun is the company name. Run a tight ship–like that Lori. She’s not a deputy either. Works for Corpun. They trained her. Whew! And I can tell you I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of one her whippin’s. That gal is strong. I seen some tough women come through here sentenced to a whippin’ or just a good strappin’ for breaking rules and such…and she always leaves ’em blubbering and crying for mercy, their mommas or just about anything.”


That was interesting news. I now had to wonder if Corpun had something to do with Libby’s arrest. An hour later I got to talk to Celeste and Mary Beth. They were allowed into an interview room. I told them who I was, and why I was there. They were frantic.

“You’ve got to help us. Please. They’re going to whip us again in two days! I couldn’t stand it. God, it hurt like blazes and was so embarrassing,” entreated Mary Beth.

“Where are your parents?” I asked.

“My mom is coming from California, but it took her awhile to get a flight,” said Celeste.

“My folks are in Italy,” said Mary Beth, “and I hope they can get here and stop this thing. Can you do anything?”

“Well tell me what happened.”

“It was Trey,” began Mary Beth, ” he left us–at that rest area. He just took off. I don’t know why. Just drove off while we were in the bathroom. We couldn’t believe it. So we finally decided we’d better hitch a ride back to town before it got dark. This guy picks us up. We thought he was nice, but he drove us straight to the police station and went in. Next thing we know the sheriff come out and arrests us all. Says we propositioned him. We couldn’t believe it–like it was all some joke.”

Celeste broke in. “Yeah they brought us here and locked us up. Wouldn’t let us make a call. We were screaming and hollering to be let out or to just make a phone call. They just told us we better behave or else.”

“We should have shut up, but we didn’t. They took Libby to another cell by herself. We kept demanding to be let go. Then this beefy head guard and two other matrons come into our cell and grab us. They took us down the hall to this room. The head matron tells us she’s gonna teach us a little lesson in obedience in her jail. She tells us to drop our pants. While they’re watching we have to take down our pants and stand there with our bare behinds exposed. And all the time she’s like, lecturing us.”


“Yeah,” continued Celeste, “this head matron drags out a chair and sits down. They drug Mary Beth over to her and she flipped Mary Beth over her knee like she was a little kid.”

“It was horrible,” said Mary Beth. “She pulled me over her lap and started spanking my bare bottom. It hurt! She just spanked and spanked. She must have hit me a hundred times! My butt was blazing. All the while she kept asking me if I was going to behave in her jail. I broke down and swore I would, but she just kept on smacking me. It hurt. I was wriggling, trying to get away. Then I just started crying. She finally let me up and they grabbed Celeste.”


“It was the same for me,” admitted Celeste ruefully. “She put me across her knee like a ten year old and gave me a harder spanking with her hand than I think we got with paddles on initiation night. I was blubbering and crying and promising to be good. I couldn’t help it–it stung so bad. After that we shut up. We didn’t want a repeat of that, I can tell you!”


“So you went to trial…what…on Saturday?”

“Yes, but it was more like kangaroo court. We had this lawyer who did nothing and the judge believed this Earl…something or other…that we propositioned him! It was ludicrous!” exclaimed Mary Beth.

“What about Libby?”

“We didn’t see her. We were told she plea bargained and was sent to some church halfway house.”

“The Church of Atonement?”

“I think so,” mused Celeste. Turning to Mary Beth she said, “Isn’t that the church that Trey got her into? That kind of nutty thing about atonement for past sins?”

“Yes–I think it was. They talked about it in the car, how you had done all these things–in past lives even–that had to be cleansed or something. It sounded like some mumbo jumbo to me. She and Trey were like a couple of enthusiastic kids about it. I didn’t get it.”

“So Mr Hand can you help us? Please? If you don’t we will be…w-whipped…again. God, in two days!” implored Mary Beth.

“I’ll do everything I can, girls. I suspect that I will have to try for Federal Habeas Corpus–I think the local system has been corrupted, but I don’t know how or why yet. And I need to find Libby.”

“Please Mr Hand, whatever you can do,” said Celeste imploringly. “Nothing ever hurt so bad and was so humiliating to boot as having my bare ass whipped like that–you just have no idea.”

She was right, I didn’t. But I was going to find out, and much sooner than I would have liked.


Whipping Boy, Part 2

Here is the conclusion of our story. Rory is drawn to Barbara like a moth to a flame and passions flare.


As Rory would later reflect, that little session did provide motivation—for a time anyway. He didn’t see Barbara for a while after that. Their schedules seemed to be out of sync. In frustration he found himself looking at her house constantly, checking to see if she was home. Anything, even just a glimpse. He told himself it was time. Time to declare himself. He was hers—in her hands to do as she thought fitting. She could command him. He’d do anything. Be her whipping boy if that amused her. He strongly suspected it did. His dreams at night had been fitful ones in which he saw himself on his knees before her, worshiping her while in her hand she held a paddle to discipline him if he disappointed.


He was by chance at an upstairs window when he saw her walk out into her back yard. The sun was bright, and it was hot. Summer beckoned and soon school would be out. Hopefully he’d see more of her then, but now she was a sight to behold as she carried a towel and a bottle of lotion with the obvious intention of using them to sunbathe. Rory’s eyes were glued to the scene as he watched her spread the towel out and rub lotion on her skin. Wearing a skimpy black bikini, she was a vision. What luck! The back yard was fenced and a row of tall shrubs provided almost complete privacy from eyes at ground level. But he had just happened to be in this upstairs room. Rory drank it all in, the high set breasts, the long shapely legs, the firm heart-shaped buttocks. He had to see better. In a flash he remembered he had binoculars. He raced downstairs to get them. When he returned she was still there.

The window was open. Rory slunk down below the sill and rested the binoculars on the ledge. He kept his profile low so she wouldn’t see him if she turned his way. She had opened the lotion bottle and was standing there, spreading it all over, rubbing her thighs and the backs of her legs. He could see it all now quite clearly. The binoculars made it look as though she were ten feet away. He could see every line, every curve of her body. His right hand stole down to the waistband of his shorts and slipped under the elastic. Finding his erection he began to stroke it. And lost his grip on the binoculars. They fell from the sill, clanged onto the top of a garbage can lid below, and bounced, landing in a plot intended for a garden in Barbara’s yard.

She froze at the sound of the clang. Her eyes turned in the direction it had come from. Then she looked up, only to see Rory half out of the window. He had lunged to try and catch the binoculars. She stared straight at him then followed his eyes to the garden plot. She walked over and found the binoculars lying in the dirt. Rory stood there, outlined in the window. He blushed, embarrassed and chagrined.

“Rory!” she said. “You have some explaining to do, young man.” She shook the offending eyepieces at him. “I can’t believe this. You get down here this instant. I’ll be waiting inside for you.” And she stormed off into her house.



He’d given her the perfect opportunity. She knew what she wanted to do with this boy. She’d created the perfect lure and he’d fallen right in. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

Yes, he’d be a very good boy indeed, especially after a little discipline. And she’d be in total control. It was a heady feeling.


Now he’d done it. That was so rude. What could he do? Beg for mercy, obviously. It was the only possibility.

With a heavy heart he went next door and rang the bell. A voice inside said, “Come in.”

There was Barbara. Now she had on a short linen robe. It revealed the long sensuous lines of her legs. She stood in the foyer. Her arms were folded and she glared angrily at him as he tried to make his apology.

“Barbara, I’m sorry…I just…” He started to stammer. She cut him off.

“I believe these are yours.” She proffered the binoculars.

“I…I don’t know what came over me. I saw you come out and I wanted, I wanted…” He couldn’t say it.

“You wanted to spy on me, is that it? It is, isn’t it?”

Rory couldn’t find words.

“Rory, I’m so disappointed in you. This is what I might expect from a fourteen year old adolescent. Peeping. A naughty little middle-schooler. Like that eighth grader you were long ago, perhaps? Were your hands down in your pants, too?”

Rory blushed beet red.

“I thought so. Uh huh. I thought so.” She tipped her head back and nodded to herself. “So what should I do with you Rory? What should I do with such a naughty young man?”

The way she said it gave Rory a chill. What did she mean? She looked sort of angry, but underneath there was this hint of suggestiveness creating an electric charge in the air. It felt like she was playing with him, like a cat plays with a mouse.

She answered her own question. “I think I should punish you properly, Rory. Give you what a naughty boy like you needs. What do you think, Rory?”

“You…you could punish me. Like before. Or any way you wanted.” It was all Rory could think of. Losing her friendship was unthinkable.

“I should teach you a lesson, Rory. Ladies do not like to be spied on, or ogled. Especially by boys who have their hands in their pants.” She glowered at him and said, “Go get the paddle.”

The paddle. It’s what he’d been afraid of and what he’d craved. Even so, Rory hastened to do her bidding. Was he going to really get it this time? Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard. The last time had been bearable, delicious fun, almost. Well, later anyway. Still he felt his penis thickening. He’d already been hard from watching and his erection was tenting out the front of his shorts. He took the paddle off the door and returned. She crooked her finger and turned to walk down the hall.

“Come with me,” she said.

He followed. They were going to her bedroom. His eyes followed her twitching hips down the hallway. Once inside a very feminine bedroom she sat on a padded chest at the foot of the bed. The robe came open. Rory’s eyes fixed on her breasts. She saw where his gaze was directed and frowned.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You need to learn some manners, young man, if we are to continue to be friends.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Rory.

She took the paddle and put it on the bed. Put her hands on her hips. “Stand in front of me, Rory.” He obeyed.


“What you did was rude and childish. I’ve been thinking about an appropriate punishment for you.”

Rory held his breath.

“We can still be fiends, Rory, but you have to accept my punishment on my terms.”

“Yes, Barbara, anything.”

“You will call me Miss Tisdale or ma’am until we are done. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She sounded like the Miss Tisdale of old, the stern teacher with the paddle and the will to use it. Then came the words that nearly made his knees buckle.

“Rory, you are going over my knee for a very sound spanking on your bare bottom. That is what I would prescribe for a boy of fourteen, and that’s the way you’ve acted. Now,” she said, pointing with her finger, “take down your pants.”

His bare bottom? Over her knee like a kid? He blushed with shame, but his cock surged. He hesitated.

“Did you hear me, Rory? I said take down your pants.”

Gingerly Rory slipped his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and peeled them down, dragging his underpants with them. As he did, his erection popped up, a long thick cock bobbing up and down right in Miss Tisdale’s face. She blinked, startled at the size and strength of the male organ that confronted her. Rory thought he saw a faint blush.

Then she pursed her lips, recovering from the shock. “Well, Rory, I can see what’s been on your mind.”auntie

Rory’s blush intensified. He felt like his face must be bright red. Worse, he had noticed her robe. It had slipped open, revealing her bare thighs and the triangle of that black bikini.

“Over my knee, Rory. Right now.” She pointed a finger at her lap.

Rory eased himself face down across her thighs. He gasped as his cock came into contact with the flesh of her legs and he slid himself over. The tanning lotion had made her skin slippery and the friction sent a delicious surge of pleasure up his spine. Then she opened her legs slightly and his penis slid down between them. Once he was all the way over, nose nearly touching the floor, she closed her legs, clamping his penis between them. He moved a little. An experimental wiggle. He nearly erupted.



Barbara rested her hand on his bottom, squeezing, patting, testing the resilience of the globes she was about to chastise. Rory felt her hand and he shifted, tensing, waiting for that first smack.

“Now, Rory,” she said. “Let’s see if I can’t instill some better manners in you.”

Her hand smacked his bottom, the sound startling him with its sharpness. Another smack, different spot. Then another and another. It tingled. A not entirely unpleasant feeling. She got into a pattern, delivering brisk spanks to alternate cheeks, then occasionally, right across the center crease of his bottom. The spanks got harder, as if she had found the right leverage or angle of descent. Now it started to sting. She had some internal clock, like a metronome, timing the relentless repetitive spanks she applied to his bare bottom. The sting was like a slow burn, a fire gradually building. Rory found himself reacting, swinging his feet up behind him, clenching his buttocks, squirming. His behind was getting really hot. Still the steady smack—smack—smack  of her palm beat a steady tattoo made him gasp in air between clenched teeth. This was really starting to sting!


Barbara was wet. The boy’s cock had popped out at her and she’d had to stifle the impulse to just grab it and lead him to the bed. But dishing out a sound spanking, that was reward all by itself. The boy’s buttocks were pure poetry, little apples that quivered under her hand. She could feel his cock, all hard still, clamped between her thighs. His little boy behind just got redder and redder. It was a heady feeling, being in such control. He’d do anything she commanded. She was sure of that now. Her own personal boy-toy to cuddle or to spank! Just like this, she thought as she launched a rapid fire barrage that made him yelp.


“Ow! Ow! Ok, ok! Miss Tisdale, I’m sorry!” Rory squealed, bucking and writhing over the older woman’s lap. “I won’t spy any more! Please!”

“Stop squirming, Rory,” she chided, all the while continuing the spank briskly. “You’re only getting what every naughty boy needs, a hot stinging fanny.”

It was smarting ferociously now, wave after wave of unrelenting sting. At the same time the friction between his penis and her legs was driving him crazy with lust. As he pumped up and down to avoid her punishing hand, it was like sliding into a slippery sheath. Unconsciously, he had fallen into a rhythm, raising his hips in sync with her descending palm. He could feel a climax building. The only thing that tempered it was the burning hot sensation visited on his seat by Barbara’s sturdy palm.



She sensed Rory’s impending climax. Oh, no you don’t, she thought. I want to save that for later. She stopped spanking Rory’s buttocks and pushed him unceremoniously off her knees. How to calm that rampant penis down, she wondered. Her eyes fell on the paddle.


Rory saw her reach for the paddle and he put his hands behind him rubbing and shifting from foot to foot. His cock bobbed up and down. The combined effect was almost comical. Then he heard the dread command, “Over the end of the bed, Rory. You’re getting six with the paddle.”

He started to plead with her, then shut up. Something was happening here. She was breathing heavily, her eyes alive with excitement and lust. He was aware that she must have sensed his near climax and had called a halt. Her robe swung open freely now. She made no attempt to close it. Rory’s eyes widened as she flung it away. In the tiny bikini she was magnificent. He faced the bed and bent over, his hands on the coverlet. He felt her hand on his back, placed there to steady him no doubt. The paddle tapped him once, twice then—

Smack! Crack! Whap! Three rapid spanks.

“Ahh…ow…Arhhh!” Rory yelped, rising on tip toe.

“Hold still, Rory. Take your licks, young man.”

The last three were spaced apart. Each one felt like an event. Each one was a searing blast of heat. Rory’s finger clutched the bedclothes so tight his knuckles were white. His knees sagged after the last one. Whew! That had been something. His behind was a roaring bonfire. It throbbed in waves.


Barbara stood back, contemplating her handiwork. Rory’s bottom cheeks looked like a pair of tomato red beacons, almost shiny, set off against the pale flesh of his legs and back. His once rock hard erection now drooped, but Barbara had decided she’d fix that. “On the bed, Rory,” she said.

“What?” Rory stood and turned, his hands now gently massaging his burning seat.

She pointed with the paddle. “On the bed. On your back.”

Rory didn’t know what she had in mind but he was in no condition to argue. He scrambled onto the bed. Barbara stood beside the bed. She flung the paddle down and reached behind her. Rory’s eyes grew wide as her breasts sprang free. “Touch yourself now, Rory. Make yourself ready for me,” she said, as she tweaked her own nipples making them hard.

Rory’s hand dropped to his groin and he stroked his penis. It took only seconds for his erection to return and soon his cock was standing straight up. He watched, amazed, while Barbara tugged the brief bikini bottoms down, revealing the luscious triangle and its mass of dark curly hair. She placed one knee on the bed and lifted the other across Rory’s torso, straddling him. She hung there for a moment poised right above Rory’s upright cock. The she took her hand and seized it, placing the swollen head at the entrance to her vagina. Slowly she lowered her body, impaling herself on Rory’s stiff shaft.

The sensation was exquisite. He felt his member entering the slippery sheath and it took his breath away. Slowly, almost agonizingly so, she lowered herself until his shaft was embedded in her to the hilt.

“Don’t move until I say,” she whispered.

Rory nodded. He was close to losing it and he wanted this intense pleasure to last forever.

Then Barbara began to move. Short strokes at first, then longer ones as she rose and slammed down bucking on Rory’s groin as if riding a horse. Soon she was coming almost all the way up the length of Rory’s shaft before dropping back down to impale herself to the hilt. She mixed it up, sometimes rotating her hips as she leaned forward, hovering over him. “Lick my nipples, Rory. Go on, lick them.” Rory obeyed, reaching up with his hands, squeezing her breasts, putting the nipples together so that his tongue could flit from one to the other. She moaned and bolted upright. Barbara threw her head back and pounded her body up and down, feeling an eruption coming. When it hit she thrashed in uncontrollable spasms, moaning and flinging her head back. Rory’s climax came nearly simultaneously. The friction from the sliding sheath of her vagina overcame his desire to make it last and he too erupted in a frenzied dance, bucking and thrusting against her pelvis.

Barbara renewed Rory several times after that and taught him how to use his tongue to pleasure her as well. He especially liked it when Barbara had wanted it from behind and he got to appreciate the rippling of her lovely buttocks as his smacked her quivering bottom, his shaft thrusting deep inside her.


Friday night was whipping boy night. Rory found the summons in his mailbox. Once unleashed, Miss Tisdale had become insatiable. And now every Friday night a new instruction awaited him. He gulped as he read it. He was come in the door at 7pm. It would be unlocked. He was to strip completely and stand in the corner, hands on his head. The day before, as instructed, he had written down every lapse, every fault for the entire week. She, Miss Tisdale, would decide on an appropriate punishment. Sometimes it was a mild spanking with her hand. Other times she’d get out the paddle. But always they ended up in her bed. Lately she’d talked about more exotic instruments like a cane. She said English schoolboys got the cane and she’d always wanted to try one out. He gazed at her house, silent and dark, wondering what was in store tonight. But he’d be there, oh, yes he’d always be there, waiting, naked and shivering with both fear and lust.


The Farm of the Delphian Sisterhood — some excerpts

This story started out as a stand-alone bit of spanking erotica, but I became intrigued with it as I developed the characters and injected paranormal elements. I later realized it could become the front end of a longer work. I wrote the second part which developed more back story, and introduced a romance between two new characters. Then I tied the two parts together in part 3 which ended up as the spanking romance novel, ” Laforge “. So today I’m posting some excerpts from this introductory story in the hope that you’ll be intrigued and go for the whole thing.


In this first excerpt, Sam Reilly has bought a farm in Pennsylvania Dutch country. Across the road is another farm occupied by four attractive young women who befriend Sam. After rescuing two of the ladies from some unwelcome attention at a crafts fair, he learns that they have elected him “guardian” whatever that means. He is about to find out.

It was the “other things” that turned out to make this arrangement even more different and, frankly more astounding than any domestic situation I’d ever heard of. About a week later (no flags yet) I had been working in my workshop doing a custom cabinet job. I noticed a note on the door as I reached my house. It said could I please come over after supper as they needed me to perform a service. So I wondered ‘what could this be?’ but after I had eaten and cleared away my dishes I walked across the land between houses and knocked on their door. I was ushered into the parlor. It was an odd scene. Jessica and Sinn were seated on the sofa. Amelia was standing in the corner, facing it with her back to the rest of us. She was dressed in a linen top and drawers that looked like short bloomers. There was a sturdy armless chair in the center of the room.

Elaine began, “Amelia is in the corner because she has been rude to Sinn and me and has spoken out in anger. Also she has neglected chores and our calling this to her attention was the reason for her rudeness. We are women, Sam, and like all women we have our failings, try as we do, to get along. Mostly we do, but when one of us transgresses, as is our way, she must ask for correction. Amelia has done so and that is why you have been summoned here tonight.”

So I’m thinking ok, they get into spats like everybody. They’re not perfect, but what’s that got to do with me? And I asked that question.

“We must have discipline but we do not chastise each other. Our close communal living and the nature of who we are would not permit it. Thus it must be a man who corrects our faults, someone not of our kind. We have always asked our man, our guardian, to do this.”

Ok, I sort of understood, but I was still confused.

“Amelia, you may turn around now and ask for correction.”

Amelia turned around to face me and in a small voice asked me to chastise her soundly for her neglect and her rudeness. Elaine motioned for me to sit. I did so and Amelia approached and knelt before me. In her hands she held a small leather strap, about a foot in length, which she proffered to me with both hands. “Please correct me Sam. Please take this strap and whip me with it. I am to have at least 30 strokes, but it is for you to decide when I have been justly punished.”

Now I got it. I was supposed to give her a spanking. That was how these ladies kept order. I was again, dumbfounded, but I figured that if this was part of the arrangement, I’d do as they asked. I took the strap. It was thin and supple.

Amelia loosened her pantalettes and dragged them to her knees. I guided her down across my knees and shifted her until her bottom was centered over my lap. With her legs slightly cocked her buttocks were jutting upward as if begging for correction. She had a beautiful bottom—full, rounded and firm, like a dancer’s.


Now at this point I’ll have to say that I wasn’t without some experience in this sort of thing.  You don’t live in the DC area as a bachelor for 20 years, especially as I have, meeting scores of females of all persuasions without encountering some whose tastes might seem a bit exotic. So Amelia wasn’t the first female I’d ever had over my knee. There had been a senate aide, a lovely lady who had had a most distinct penchant for having her bottom thoroughly reddened as a prelude to sex. She made no bones about it, but she was older than the K Street legal assistant who acted like a brat to goad me into spanking her. Then there was that widow from Charlottesville, a horse lover who’d borrow a riding crop from the tack room when she came up to see me. Now I have to admit that I did not know whether what was going on here was sexual in nature, but I guessed not. After all, they’d all made it clear that sex was freely available on their terms. So I had to think that this was exactly what it appeared to be, and that was a punishment.

The whacker that Amelia had handed me was a one foot strip of supple leather, maybe two inches wide with a handle of sorts at one end. I asked how many she was to get and Elaine said that was up to me, given her offense as they had described it. I said ok and I asked Amelia if she was ready and she squeaked out a “yes”. I brought the leather strip down with a firm whack! right across both cheeks. Her flesh rippled and a red band appeared as she sucked her breath between her teeth. Evidently it stung. Now I knew from experience to hold back a bit—you don’t strike as hard as you can, but you don’t strike too lightly, either. A firm, deliberate stroke was called for so I set about to give Amelia a proper tanning. I smacked one cheek then the other, then both in a steady rhythmic cadence. By ten licks her bottom was suffused with red stripes. By twenty, stripes had melded into a general redness and Amelia was beginning to emit little yelps. By thirty she was drumming her toes on the floor and was starting to show signs of genuine distress. Now with a sex partner, at this point I’d often stop, but this was a real punishment so I decided— ten more good ones. That would give her something to remember without hurting her too much. I did not want to go overboard here. I announced that she had ten more coming and I delivered those slowly, letting her absorb each stroke before giving her the next. She wriggled over my lap and her buttocks quivered, delightfully I’d have to admit, with each lick.

It was about right. She was gasping and making little “wooo…oh” sounds at the end so I knew the strap had done its job. And when I stopped and told her it was over the others nodded approvingly.


I let her up and told her with a smile not to be naughty. She gave me a hug and whispered, “thank you”. She went upstairs to put herself back together and the rest of us sat down for supper. There were no hard feelings since when Amelia reappeared she was greeted warmly by the others. Someone thoughtfully put a pillow on her chair and with a grimace and a grin she sat down. This was apparently some kind of tradition among them and it generated some good natured laughter when Amelia pursed her lips into an “O” as she took her seat. Then supper went on as if nothing had happened. My take on it was that after punishment the air was cleared, so it was forgive and forget.

And there was no surprise when later that evening Amelia informed me that she would like to accompany me home. As you might expect, the result of lighting a fire in the young lady’s rear end caused the stoking of a fire in her other parts, and our interlude that night was quite passionate.

So Sam becomes the dispenser of domestic discipline for the four ladies and they like it this way. But it turns serious when they inform him that there are others looking for them who wish to do them harm. Sam insists that his rules for their safety be followed, but to his dismay, his ladies don’t always obey them.

Some artwork they did on commission, but they also attended trade fairs and farmers’ markets, and it was on one of these excursions that they scared me to death. The market was in a small town, so while Elaine and Sinn manned the booth, Amelia and Jessica went shopping for some supplies. The rendezvous was at 3 pm at the market. I had tried to impress on everyone the need for security and that meant being where they were supposed to be and me knowing where they were at all times. The time came and went, however; and there was no sign of either one. Now I was worried. Knowing that they were being sought by “The Order”, whoever they were, I imagined all sorts of dire things. Elaine was worried too. “We never do this,” she said. “They know when the market closes.”

We decided to sweep the town from one end to the other. It was 5 pm now. I was just about frantic when I happened to pass the in-town cinema and Amelia and Jessica emerged from it, giggling. I couldn’t believe it. “Were you in there?” I was incredulous. Yes, they admitted. They’d not seen a cinema in years. “It was so amusing,” said Amelia, “witches—the very idea.” And they both giggled at each other like they were sharing some private joke. I looked up at the marquee. “The Witches of Eastwick.” I’d heard it was clever.

“Do you know we have all been frantic with worry looking for you? Do you have any idea?” I sounded and felt like an irate parent whose daughters had overstayed curfew. Elaine and Sinn were relieved to find them, but then they were angry too. “You can’t just get lost for hours.” Duly scolded, the girls were properly repentant but I could not let this one go. I told them we could not have this, and if any of them thought that a note calling for a parlor paddy whacking was going to square this infraction, they were sorely mistaken.

“I’m here to protect you from whatever it is or whoever it is you’re afraid of. To do that I have to know where you are always. You knew what the meet time was. How did you think we’d feel when you weren’t there and you were nowhere to be found? But you won’t disappear on me ever again. I promise you that. I love you all too much to let it happen again.”

We were in the kitchen at their farm. I reached in a drawer and pulled out two knives. “Go out to the willow tree in back and cut three switches, each of you. I want them three feet long and a quarter of an inch at the thinnest end. And you’d be well advised to trim off all the buds and branches.”

Amelia and Jessica grimaced. They may not have ever experienced a switching, but they could see what was coming. Well, I had, and in my childhood there was no more painful a punishment than the few memorable switchings I got from my momma. Not even dad’s belt hurt as much. In rural Virginia where I grew up, they do things the old fashioned way, and Amelia and Jessica were about to learn all about it.

A couple of downcast ladies trudged back to the house with the required bundle of switches. I took them and said, “Let’s go into the parlor.” Once inside I took the sofa and pulled it to the middle of the room. I told both ladies to prepare and that meant removing everything except linen top and pantalets. While they did I tested the switches. They would do, I decided as I swooshed them through the air. The whine a switch makes is a chilling sound and I could see the girls wince.

“Here is how we are going to do this. I want both of you bending over the back of the sofa. You are each getting two dozen licks of groups of three at a time. It’s up to you to keep count. I’m lousy at math at times like this. You can have Sinn and Elaine hold your hands if you wish.”

They said yes, they did want Sinn and Elaine to hold onto them. I gave the order to bend over and they obeyed. Sinn and Elaine knelt on the front side of the sofa and took their hands. I loosened the drawers and lowered them baring two bottoms. It struck me as a very Victorian scene, a birching in the parlor. I took the first of the switches and moving to Jessica’s left tapped it against her so far very white and unblemished rear cheeks. A couple more taps and I let fly with three quick swipes landing with a whuick! whuick! whuick! Three red lines appeared and Jessica gasped in pain. Next I moved over to Amelia and repeated the rapid switching, delivering three searing licks to her prominent bottom that made her yelp and wriggle. Then I moved back to Jessica and repeated the lesson.

It didn’t take long for the ladies to be in genuine distress. There were sobs and wriggling in an attempt to alleviate the stinging of the switch which I knew was really awful. Red weals marred the otherwise creamy white skin of the girls’ buttocks. And probably taking the girls in turn with sets of three was not doing them either any favors. It gave time for the pain from a set of three swishes to rise to a crescendo before it was time for the next three. By the twentieth set (and the fourth switch) the tears were flowing and I heard sincere promises from both never to wander off again.

It was Elaine who asked for mercy. I was about to switch Jessica for the twenty-first time. She surprised me by asking if she and Sinn could take the last four sets of strokes for Amelia and Jessica. She said they needed to know how it would feel if they disobeyed an order of mine that was necessary for their safety. I thought about that as I paused, switch in hand, ready to stripe Jessica’s pert bottom again. It made sense to me and besides it looked like Amelia and Jessica had been punished enough.

So I let them up and places were exchanged. Elaine and Sinn took their places at the back of the couch and lifted their skirts and lowered their drawers. A tearful, but no doubt grateful, Jessica and Amelia gripped their hands. I treated Elaine and Sinn exactly the same. Three rapid swipes of the switch for Sinn and then a move over to Elaine for three firmly applied stripes. Bottoms wiggled and the ladies gasped at the sudden sting applied to their backsides. I paused a moment then repeated the sequence three more times, striping each pair of buttocks with three vivid red lines.

“Oh, my,” said Elaine as she rose rubbing her wealed rear cheeks, a look of astonishment on her face. “That was most salutary. If that is what we can look forward to I’m sure we’ll all obey your instructions in the future.” The rest of them nodded. Everybody rubbed flaming rear cheeks.

“Good. I hope we all understand now. I am going to do what it takes to keep you ladies safe from whatever it is that seeks you out but you really have to pay attention to what I deem necessary for your security.”

After that everyone adhered to any safety measure I put in place, but you know, in the end, it wasn’t enough.

That’s a prophetic statement, but to find out what happens and why, well, you’ll just have to read the book.





Whipping Boy, Part 1 — an F/M tale

In the middle ages the “whipping boy” was a childhood friend of the prince. Because it would be improper to chastise the royal personage for failure to learn one’s lessons, the whipping boy was a stand-in.


In this story from my collection “Ladies in Charge,” a curious young man reacquaints himself with an older woman he knew as a teacher from his middle school days. Back then she swung a mean paddle, but this aspect of her had always been a fascination for the young man. So he has an idea. A good idea? A word to the wise — be aware that sometimes our fantasies get ahead of reality.


Whipping Boy

What caught Rory’s eye was not so much that she was a well built and handsome woman, but that he was sure he had seen her before. He had to think about it, then it came to him. Was it really Miss Tisdale? He thought her first name was Barbara or something, but he didn’t know. After all, the last time he had known her, he’d been 14 years old and in the eighth grade. She had taught seventh grade. He remembered her, though. Oh yeah! He thought she had been hot then, and she still was, even now, ten years later. The tight skirt, the high heels and the stiff white blouse made her look like an elementary school teacher, and Rory wondered if she still was. The outfit only emphasized the svelte figure. Not bad for—what, 38? 40? It didn’t matter. And here she was, all those years later, living right next door. How weird was that?

He had just moved into the house and was still unpacking. He had been so busy that he had not met any of the neighbors. What luck that he moved in right next door to Miss Tisdale. Was it still “miss?”  She had apparently bought groceries, because she went back out to her car. Rory decided to seize the opportunity and go out and speak to her. Maybe she would remember him.

“Let me help you with that. I’m your new neighbor,” he called.

She looked up, “Yes, thank you. I could use some help.” Then she stopped, eyeing him intently.  “Do I know you?”

Rory just grinned. See if she can place me, he thought.

“I do know you,” she said with a look of sudden recognition. “You’re Rory Overton. Yes, you are, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged, ma’am. It’s me. How are you Miss…er Mrs….Tisdale? I guess your name may have changed. You’re still Miss Tisdale to me.” He said smiling, extending his hand. She took it, giving his hand a warm clasp.

“No, no, it’s Miss Tisdale…I was married but I readopted my maiden name after the divorce. But now, Rory, you can call me Barbara.”

“Thank you Barbara. It has been a long time.”

“You were in — what? The 8th grade class at Hogan Middle school? My, my, just look at you now. How time flies,” said Barbara shaking her head in amazement. “And to think that one of my old students lives next door…” She let the thought trail off. “Where is your wife? I’d like to meet her.”

“Not married, Barbara.” Rory had never married. He’d been too distracted with school or his buddies to get serious with a woman.

“Really, Rory. I would have thought a cutie like you would have been snatched right up.”

“No, not yet. I recognized you right away. It’s amazing. You look exactly the same as when I was in the eighth grade.” And she did. The long legs, that tall lean figure, that sultry dark hair. She was hot for a woman her age.

“Now, you’ll make me blush, you wicked boy,” she said with an appreciative laugh. “Come inside and tell me what you’ve been doing.”

Rory carried the bags inside. They sat at Barbara’s breakfast bar and she made coffee. Rory told her about his college career and his work as an ad copy writer. Barbara Tisdale was suitably impressed. “It’s nice to see a former student succeed,” she offered. “The 8th graders managed to stay out of trouble most of the time I recall. It was your younger friends who usually found themselves in trouble.”

“And on the wrong end of your paddle,” said Rory. Besides her hotness, that was the thing Rory remembered most. Miss Tisdale’s infamous paddle. He rubbed his butt for effect, joking, “Whew! I bet they still can feel it.”

“Go on now. You’re a horrible tease. I only paddled students when they absolutely needed it.”

Rory’s opinion was that that fact might be debatable. Miss Tisdale had been one teacher who had not been shy about pulling out the standard two foot maple paddle that every teacher had been issued. They were made in the woodshop of the local high school. The school district where Rory grew up had been adamant that discipline was to be enforced in the traditional manner. This meant that the school paddle was both approved for use and used frequently. Each teacher was given some leeway in her approach to using corporal punishment and most of them did use it, at least on occasion. Mostly she taught 7th grade, but sometimes she filled for Rory’s teachers, too.

Rory had heard stories. The younger boys talked about it. The lore was that Miss Tisdale’s procedure was to quell disturbances on the spot. She would fix the miscreant with a steely glare and pull open the drawer that held the paddle. The sliding sound of that drawer opening was one that struck fear into the 7th graders. With the paddle gripped firmly in hand she would order the culprit out into the hallway for half a dozen stinging licks applied firmly to the seat of the problem while the unfortunate student leaned over, hands against the wall. She always closed the door but the class could hear the sharp crack of the paddle and an occasional yelp as the discipline was meted out. Tearful eyes and hands rubbing a smarting seat were often the result observed as the punished kid was ushered back into class.

Later Rory reflected that even just hearing about these incidents aroused sexual feelings, especially when the tale was that girls got it too. He could imagine them in the hall, bent over, bottoms out taking firm swats from Miss Tisdale.  Rory had not been paddled that year by his teacher. He’d been a cut-up in class and had deserved it, but his 8th grade teachers didn’t paddle, they just sent students to the principal. But hearing about others, he knew a paddling would be embarrassing, scary, and exciting all at the same time. He could imagine how he’d feel if Miss Tisdale ordered him into the hall. He’d played a mental game, speculating about it. He’d have this icy chill in the pit of his gut and sweaty palms, but he’d be faintly aware of the beginning of sexual arousal at being under the control of this stern woman. He’d smell her perfume as she guided him into the hall, gripping his arm with one hand, paddle in the other. He’d experience the shameful thrill of bending over, sticking his butt out to receive the swats. But the swats wouldn’t sting, not really. His butt would just feel warm afterwards. He didn’t know what the fascination had been, he just knew that it had given him a boner to think about it. Now here she was again, living right next door.tumblr_ns5hv8OYGn1ubl9p1o1_500



Since both were single and living next door to each other, it was only natural that they saw each other on a social basis. Barbara invited Rory to dinner. Rory asked her in for drinks (if after 5) or coffee on Saturday morning. It appeared to both of them that they enjoyed each other’s company. Rory had the benefit of the perspective of an intelligent, mature worldly woman and Barbara liked Rory’s enthusiasm and his sometimes irreverent and youthful outlook on life. They found that they both enjoyed wines and took a joint tour of some valley wineries. Barbara was versed on a variety of subjects—history, the arts, music. Rory, for some reason, found this fascinating.  She knew so much, well, stuff.

On top of that he realized that he was smitten. She was much older than he, but he felt a strong attraction nonetheless. Part of him knew was that she was still playing the teacher, still in charge. He let her fall into that role. It just seemed natural. She lapsed into lecture mode and he listened. She was conversant in so many subjects. It fascinated him.

When she asked how his free lance writing was going, he told her he had trouble working on it sometimes. She offered to help, and to his surprise, her suggestions were valuable. When he sloughed off, he admitted it and she chided him gently. “You need to get on it, Rory.” Once, in a mock stern tone she said, “Don’t make me get my paddle out.” They laughed together, but the comment took Rory by surprise and old memories came flooding back. For an instant he felt that familiar cold chill. But he also felt a surge of excitement. A vision formed in his mind of Barbara as a strict disciplinarian. There was something incredibly sexy about it. That evening in bed he could not get it out of his mind. He imagined Barbara taking him to task. In his fevered imagination he imagined her scolding him, shaking her finger at him. Then the pronouncement, “I’m going to punish you.” Then the dreaded command, “Take down your pants.” Yes, in his fantasy she would punish him in an intimate and shameful way. With her paddle on his behind, just like a naughty schoolboy. The thought made him hard.


They were having wine together at Barbara’s on a Friday evening. Barbara had been quiet and Rory had noticed a certain edge to her temperament. Part of him wanted to move their relationship to another level, but the mood wasn’t right for any kind of advance. He asked her if it had been a hard day.

“It was. I had nothing but trouble all week from a particular student named Ricky Sinclair.”

Without thinking Rory said, “Well then, why not haul Mr. Sinclair into the hall and paddle him? You still have the old paddle, right?”

She shook her head. “I brought it home. We can’t do that anymore. Times have changed, Rory.”

Before he could even think about the consequences, Rory blurted, “Go get it. You’re in a mood and it won’t get better until we do something about it.”

Barbara looked at Rory inquisitively, cocking her head as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, but Rory said, “Trust me. Go get the paddle.” A little tipsy from the wine, Rory had impulsively formulated a plan that had more audacity to it than sense. She put her wine glass down, got up and opened a closet. Rory’s heart caught in his throat as Barbara rummaged around. She was actually looking for it.

“Ah. Here it is.” She produced the familiar paddle.

He took a deep breath, stood up, and said, “Ok, now pretend I’m Ricky. How do you want me? Or do you want to scold me first?” There, he’d said it. His heart thumped.

“Oh come on Rory, you can’t be serious.” Barbara laughed. “I think you‘ve had too much wine, you silly boy.”

“I’m trying to lighten your mood, lift your spirits by allowing you to shake some of that anger. Do your worst, Ma’am,” he said with mock bravado, making a joke of it, all the while shivering with nervous expectation.

Barbara’s expression registered incredulity, but she stopped still for a moment, considering. Slowly a smile formed. Rory could see it was working. She was going to do it. He wondered if this had been such a smart thing. The old admonition – be careful what you wish for – echoed in his head.



Then the atmosphere in the room seemed to change as both players realized that this game called for a new level of intimacy. Up to now, they’d been just friends, an older woman in an unusual friendship with a younger man. But now an erotic tension like an electric charge before a storm seemed to be building. Barbara hefted the paddle and smacked it against her palm experimentally. Rory stood in front of her like a student called to account for some act of disobedience or disrespect. His eyes never left the paddle. Memories from the past came back. Was she really going to do this?

“Well. All right. I suppose you are my whipping boy for the night, Rory. I think you know how it’s done. Bend over, young man.” She looked around. “No, let’s have you over here.” She pointed to the leather couch that faced the TV. It had a soft rolled top. “Bend over that and hold onto the cushions.”

Rory’s mouth was dry and his heart hammered as he laid his body over the back of the couch. Now his buttocks jutted out, his pants stretched tightly across the seat. He wore thin chinos and was sure that both bottom cheeks were now clearly outlined, presented to Barbara’s gaze, the fabric pulled taut. He waited breathlessly as he heard Barbara shuffle forward. He felt the wood of the paddle tap his bottom, just like he’d heard about all those years before.

He felt the air move before the paddle landed in a sharp splat! The sound was surprisingly explosive, like a firecracker. And, it stung! The sensation was like a hive of bees had all launched stingers at once, right on his bottom. He stifled a yell and grunted a weak “Ahhh.”

Smack! She delivered another whack. It burned even hotter, building on the last one.

“That’s two, Rory. Are you all right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” stammered Rory. “I can take it. Go ahead.” Actually he wasn’t sure if he could take it. The pain was sharper and more intense than he had anticipated. He braced himself.

There was a pause, then–POP! Rory stifled a “Yow!” as he paddle landed again and Rory almost shot up, but he willed himself to stay in position. He couldn’t back out now. How many more? He tried to remember. Had it always been three? Or was it four? Oh God. Six?

The last three came not as hard, but rapid fire— Splat! Whack! Crack! Rory gasped and flinched, rising up on tiptoe higher with each whack.


Barbara must have seen the flinch because she said, “All right. Up you get. That’s enough for tonight.”

Rory came up gratefully, gulping and furiously rubbing the seat of his pants. “Whew!” He said. “Wow, you don’t fool around with that paddle. Whew!” He sucked air between his teeth as he rubbed.

“When I paddle a boy, I make it memorable,” she said with a smug grin. “I hope it wasn’t too terrible.”

“No. No,” said Rory. “I’m ok.” It still burned like blazes. He turned to face her.

She grinned. “Well, oddly, I do feel better now. Thank you, Rory. That helped clear away my bad mood. I just wish I could do that to Ricky. It would do him the world of good.” Then she said, “I think that earns you a glass of wine, dear boy.”

Rory followed the rotating hips in the tight skirt as she headed for her kitchen. Despite the burning fire in his behind, he felt a hard-on coming.

That night in bed, the burn had receded to a warm glow. He relived the incident in his mind. So that’s what it must have felt like way back when. Sleep came only after his hand found his erection and he massaged it to a climax, thinking about Barbara, imagining her in high heels, a garter belt and panties, with a push up bra. The lean legs, the ample bust, those well rounded hips—she’d be a dream. In his fantasy she held that paddle, tapping it in her palm as she ordered him to take his pants down.




As a result of the incident, the relationship between the young man and the older woman had evolved to a different level. Both were acutely conscious of the erotic tension that the paddling had created.

Privately, Barbara had tried to laugh it off, but found she couldn’t. She kept seeing those boyish buttocks, all rounded and presented to her for her attentions. It made her blush and with the blush came a creeping wetness that she felt between her legs. Being in control of the young man had been a heady experience. This was no snotty kid. He was every bit as capable of pleasuring her as any man her age and maybe more so. She found she liked the idea of being in charge. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, but even when their friendship had been building she liked the notion of having a younger man in a subservient role while she was the dominant one, the mentor. He seemed to like the role of the student. She didn’t know where it might lead.


Rory could not get motivated. This stuff was so boring. Working from home was fine only if he could get into the project. The other problem was self discipline. He didn’t have any. He whiled away his time away from his cubicle at the company daydreaming and playing video games. Every time he sat down to write he got distracted. Like now. Barbara had just driven up.

He saw her through the window. She opened the door of her car, displaying a generous bit of leg as she rotated her body to climb out. She was wearing a tight skirt again. It accentuated her flaring hips and shapely ass. She bent over to retrieve some papers from the back seat, thrusting those rounded bottom globes in his direction. He could see the visible panty line even at this distance. He wondered what kind of panties she might be wearing. She picked up a stack of papers, but there were too many. She dropped them and they went spilling all over the driveway.

Rory reacted in a flash. He raced out of the house and joined in to help Barbara retrieve the papers that were being scattered by the breeze.

“Oh, thank you, Rory,” said Barbara as they scrambled around and scooped up the swirling mass of paper. “These are test papers I have to grade. It’s just been awful. What a day. And now this.”

Grateful for the help, she invited him in. She was going to make coffee then changed her mind. “I need a drink,” she said. She brought out two glasses and a bottle of some fruit flavored vodka. After a drink or two she calmed down a bit. Rory felt that familiar heat bloom in his gut as the alcohol went down.

“So why has it been such a bad day?” asked Rory. She still seemed genuinely upset.

“The students. My students. I don’t know what got into them today. I had nothing but discipline problems. And I could do little about it. And our principal is spineless. He won’t discipline either. It makes me so frustrated. I know what I’d like to do…” She let the thought trail off.

“A frustrating day for both us, Barbara. I’ve been procrastinating all day. I can’t seem to get motivated. Goofing off all day, that’s been me.”

Barbara looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Goofing off? You have a job to do and you’re goofing off? Goofing off is what my students did all day. Not you too.”

“Maybe I need motivation,” said Rory. Then he almost whispered, “Maybe I need discipline.”

Barbara studied him for a moment. Rory waited breathlessly. The air seemed to warm by a few degrees. “Maybe you do, Rory. Maybe you do.”

Rory gulped. He felt that surge of excitement. “And maybe you need your whipping boy again.” He paused then said quietly, “Shall I go fetch the paddle, ma’am?”

“It’s hanging on a hook inside the front closet,” said Barbara. “Go fetch it this instant.” She sounded serious.

Rory started to shiver. It was such a curious feeling. Arousal layered with shame and fear.  Slowly he pushed his chair back and got up. Barbara watched the young man’s backside as he walked away from her. She took one more slug on the vodka and got up to follow.

She found Rory standing behind the couch holding the paddle. She put her hand out. “Hand it to me Rory. Let’s see if I can’t instill a little bit of motivation. I don’t like it when either students or big boys goof off all day. It’s unbecoming and immature.”

Rory handed her the paddle and turned around to face the back of the couch, ready to take his licks again. He was dressed in a more juvenile fashion today, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. He had thin Y-briefs on under the shorts. It wasn’t much protection.

He waited for the command to bend over. Instead he heard her say, “Take your pants down, Rory.”

Had he heard right? Take his pants down?

“Get ‘em down, young man.”

tumblr_n9joh38cSk1sckhqwo1_500 (2)

Rory flushed. His breathing became shallow. Oh, wow!  She sounded serious. He looked over his shoulder and sure enough, her expression was serious, a no-nonsense woman preparing to meet out well deserved discipline. He faced the sofa and lowered his shorts, letting them settle at his knees.

“Over,” she said. “Stick it out.”

Rory obeyed and bent over, offering his bottom to the paddle. The thin white cotton would be no protection at all. At the same time he was aware of a rock hard erection that had been building since she had taken control and ordered him to fetch the paddle. She could see it too, pushing out against the front of his briefs.


Barbara noted the sturdy erection and she felt a charge of desire. It looked long and thick. He could probably go all night with that, she mused. The prospect had its allure, she just wasn’t sure she was ready. The vodka and her mood had propelled her to where she now stood; ready to deliver a good paddling to Rory’s naughty seat. The thought thrilled her. She tapped his bottom, then rubbed the paddle around in circles. He flinched when he felt the wood. Such a cute boyish ass, she thought.



This time the paddling came in a cadence that did not vary.




The six cracks of the paddle were delivered at fixed intervals, one every five seconds. Rory stifled yelps and gripped the sofa cushions so tightly his knuckles were white.


Smack! Whap! Crack!

The heat from the paddling piled up with each successive smack. No one spoke. The cracks of the paddle were like loud gunshots. Rory worried that neighbors might hear.

The first smack had made heat bloom in Rory’s behind. He had heard the sound before his senses had registered the pain. The second had amplified the effect of the first. By then it had really stung. The third, fourth and fifth had been unbearable. He had wanted to beg off. Anything to have stopped the raging fire. He had nearly come out of his skin by the sixth.

“Do you think you can get back to work, now Rory?”

Rory heard the voice dimly through a haze of blazing fire in his behind. It was over. He stood and rubbed. This time there were tears in his eyes. He blinked, trying to make them go away before she could see.

When both of them had composed themselves, he offered to help her grade papers. She gently chided him. “Don’t you have work to do, young man?”

He clenched his buttocks when he heard her call him ‘young man’ in that tone. “I guess, yeah,” he said.

“Then you’d better get to it,” she said. “I don’t want to hear about any more sloughing off in your work. Go on now.”


Cynthia’s Case

The shoplifter story is an old spanking story trope. You know the plot — a young woman is caught shoplifting and is offered a deal. Take a spanking from the manager and avoid the cops. It’s been done to death. Is there any way to breathe new life into this old chestnut? I’m giving it a try.


Today’s story is from my  ebook, The Naughty Wives Collection, Vol. 2 in which we explore the strange case of Cynthia Bergeron, gorgeous wife of the wealthy industrialist and marketer, Max Bergeron. Max has a problem, you see, for despite the fact that he is willing to buy his wife anything she desires, she likes to acquire things the old fashioned way — by larceny. Finding a program to cure his wife of this undesirable habit will be challenging, but Max is determined to give it his best shot.

Cynthia’s Case

“You see it?”

“Yeah. It’s her.” Max Bergeron sighed and ran his fingers across the bald dome of his head as he watched the tape run on the video monitor. The stunning blonde in the smart blue suit with the dancer’s legs and three inch heels had deftly pocketed the necklace as the clerk was distracted by a question from another customer.

“Why does she do it, sir?”

“I don’t know, Andre, but I’m glad you caught her in one of ours.”

Andre nodded. It seemed unbelievable that Cynthia Bergeron would shoplift jewelry from Jardin’s, a store that Max owned, albeit indirectly.  Max was richer than Midas. It just did not compute.

“I don’t know what to say sir.”

“That’s ok, Andre. What normally happens when you catch them?”

“We call the police. They are arrested. Many go to jail after they make restitution.”

That wasn’t going to happen in this case. Max was calling the shots, but it was just fortunate that it was one of his stores, fortunate that Andre knew who Cynthia was, and fortunate that Andre was at a high enough level in Max’s organization that he could call Max directly. This could have been a disaster for Max had she been arrested, especially in some business having no connection to Max. Hell, odds were she had no idea that the place was owned by Max. From that thought sprang an idea.

“Get me Mitch Cramer,” Max told his assistant several days later. Mitch ran Security Solutions, another of Max’s companies. Max’ worldwide holdings in oil, gas, mining and shipping as well as retail operations in jewelry and imports made him and his employees targets all over the world. Mitch put measures in place to discourage would be kidnappers and industrial spies. He had even run “black ops” which had amounted to elaborate con schemes in order to thwart theft and extortion. Now he had in mind an operation of a different sort, one that would cure the lovely Mrs. Bergeron of her dangerous penchant for lifting merchandise without paying for it.

Max knew he had to do something to curb this behavior.That it must be stopped was essential. She could end up with a felony conviction and do actual jail time. His wife would be taken away from him and she would suffer the anguish of incarceration. Lastly, in Max’s position he could ill afford a wife-created scandal involving criminal behavior. His work on various philanthropic projects required Cynthia as gracious hostess, a job for which she was well suited, having been in the hospitality business prior to meeting Max. Getting one’s way in this environment was infinitely easier with a beautiful woman at one’s side. He not only loved her, he needed her.

Why did she do it? Who knows, but Max suspected that it was either a need for attention or perhaps she was bored. Cynthia was Max’s junior by more than a decade. At 52 he had been absolutely smitten by the tall curvaceous woman of some 33 years that he had met running on a beach in Hawaii. She had showgirl looks—long, finely muscled legs, a full and shapely rear end, and high firm breasts. The face of an angel—the body of a Victoria’s Secret model.  She had, in fact, been a Miss California runner up. Max appreciated the fact that she turned heads wherever she appeared. One might have assumed that she’d have been haughty or spoiled, but in reality she was sweet, kind and intelligent. Max didn’t know what he’d do without her, which made this problem so perplexing.

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“I think I know the person you need, Max.” Mitch had met Max in an after hours watering hole. “His name is Victor Cruz. He is a Spanish psychologist. We partnered with him and his team to handle that theft problem at La Monde.”

Max remembered. Top sales staff at one of his retail division‘s stores, all women, had helped themselves to expensive clothes and fashion accessories. When caught they claimed they had “borrowed” them to wear at exclusive clubs to “promote the brand”.  Yeah, right. They had not been fired, but had agreed to go through some sort of “counseling” or something Mitch had arranged through Dr. Cruz who was apparently some sort of behavioral psychologist. Whatever it was, it had put the girls on the straight and narrow. After that nobody took off with even a paper clip.

“Fine. I’ll meet the guy. See what he comes up with.”


Victor Cruz was a tall, refined gentleman in his 50’s who spoke with a distinctly Spanish accent. If you could order “distinguished professor” from central casting, this would be the guy, thought Max. No, now he had it—Fantasy Island—Ricardo something or other.

“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Bergeron, and I hope I can be of service. Mr. Cramer has briefed me, and let me say that I believe you are both right. This problem cannot be ignored. Mrs. Bergeron is on a very destructive course. I am confident that she can be turned away from this course with our unique program. Before we begin, however, I must have your absolute trust that no harm will come to your wife. Our methods may seem unconventional, but in historical context, they are tried and true. They work.  What we do will be embarrassing to her and parts of it will be distinctly unpleasant, but not damaging in any way.”

“Mitch tells me you are very good at this, and I trust him, but I want to be there when you do this.” Max felt he could trust the guy. He had checked him out, of course. So had Mitch.  His team was apparently in high demand by companies who had sticky personnel problems. They kept a low profile though. You had to be a pro like Mitch to even know he existed. And what if this treatment embarrassed Cynthia? Maybe she needed a little embarrassment.

“It is, in fact, essential that you be there. Mrs. Bergeron, however, will not know you are present. We are set up so that you can monitor everything on a closed circuit video network. The reason you must be there is that you will have to follow up on what we do. We will tell you exactly how to play it. It will be hard for her. Difficult for you too, but believe me, entirely necessary.”

Max said, “All right, let’s proceed.”


To put the plan into operation they had to catch her in the act. Mitch put her under surveillance and Mitch and Max were alerted when she was taped off the security camera in another of Max’s stores three days later while in the act of stuffing an expensive designer handbag into another shopping bag. She was stopped while trying to leave, then escorted to the manager’s office. They made her wait long enough to place one of Victor’s team on the scene. His job was to play the manager.

“This is very serious, Mrs. Bergeron,” said the manager, seated at a desk in the back office portion of the store. Cynthia had been detained, despite her flustered protests that she had done nothing wrong. The protests floundered when they pulled out the stolen bag.

Cynthia squirmed while the manager stared at her for a moment, and then said, “Shoplifting is a crime, and we treat it seriously. We call the police. You could go to jail.”

“No, please. I’ll never set foot in here again. I promise you. Just let me go.” Cynthia was panicked. Max would find out. Oh, God, what would he do? Would he divorce me?

The manager looked at her thoughtfully. “We have no file on you. That’s good. In cases where the offender is a first offender we have been able to offer an alternative.”

“Yes, yes….anything.  I am so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me and…”

The manager held up his hand, motioning her to stop. “If we allow you into this program, there are strict rules. First, you will make an appointment in no less than three days by calling this number,” he said, handing her a card. “Second, you will follow their instructions to the letter. If you do not, they will inform us and we will call the police. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll do whatever you say,” said Cynthia. She examined the plain white business card. It said “Behavioral Associates.” No logo, no fancy print. There was a local phone number.

“You must fully complete the program to the satisfaction of the staff at Behavioral Associates. They report back to us and any non cooperation on your part will result in a criminal complaint by us. If you agree, sign this acknowledgment …and then you may leave.”

Thank God, she thought. They don’t know who I am. She inspected the card. I wonder what they do? She’d heard of “diversion” for drunk driving and supposed that this was similar, only geared to shoplifting. Probably involved counseling, lectures about crime and so forth. It was good Max was still out of town. She’d do this right now. Get it out of the way.

She was visibly shaking as she drove herself home from what she knew was a very close call. Why did she do it, she asked herself? But she knew. God knows, she didn’t need the stuff. It was the thrill, the rush. Like she was Grace Kelly in “To Catch a Thief.” When she pulled a “caper” as she thought of it, it was like she was some sort of James Bond-like character, a secret agent stealing the plans and getting away with it. Well now she’d done it—finally caught. Lucky for her that the store was willing to send her to this counseling thing, whatever that was. Thank God Max would never know. What would he do? He’d be furious with her.

“She called and she’s coming in on Saturday. It’s all set up,” announced Mitch. “That was Carla, Victor’s assistant. They can set up in about a day, but what they need is some space in something like an industrial park, preferably separated from neighbors. Your wife arrives at ten, so we’ll send a car for you and you’ll be there in advance.”

Max nodded. He knew just the place. He hoped Dr. Cruz’s plan worked.

It was your typical suburban light industrial complex in a typical business park. A string of four buildings. Low rise—two stories each. The one on the far end from the parking lot had double glass doors and the legend “Behavioral Associates” on the glass. Inside was a reception desk staffed by a young woman. Certainly nothing out of the ordinary, just a typical corporate office.

“I have an appointment,” said Cynthia. “My name is Cynthia Bergeron.” She was the only one there. Good. She had dressed down a bit. No use in looking like a rich wife with too much idle time, so she had picked a outfit consisting of  a simple pleated knee length skirt, a modest blouse and low heels.

The receptionist smiled. “Please have a seat. Dr Cruz will send for you in a moment.”

So far, so good, thought Cynthia. It’s like going to see the doctor. She waited for a few moments more and then another young woman entered the reception area and motioned to Cynthia.

“Please follow me,” she said, and led her down a corridor to an office. Seated at an impressive desk in an expansive office was a man who was introduced by the assistant as Dr. Victor Cruz. He did not get up to greet her.

“Please be seated, Mrs. Bergeron,” he said, studying the file on his desk. Then he looked up, regarded her for a few moments and began. “You are here because you shoplift, Mrs. Bergeron. This is a most antisocial and destructive behavior. But we will attempt to correct that. That is why you are here, no?  You must, however, fully obey our instructions. These instructions may not make sense to you at times, but you must comply or we cannot issue a report saying you went through with the program. I trust you understand this?”

“Yes, yes of course I do.” His serious manner made her nervous.

“Good. I must also tell you that no matter what we ask you, you must not lie to us. Truthfulness is essential in this program of treatment. It enables us to prescribe the proper corrective treatment for your particular situation. There are consequences for lying.”

Corrective treatment? She thought that this was going to be counseling. Or a twelve step type of thing—‘I’m Cynthia and I shoplift.’?

“Now, let’s speak for a moment about you. Tell me what you do, about your family, your background.”

Cynthia told him without mentioning her husband’s name. She didn’t think he would know anyway, but it was better to be careful. Max, for all his wealth tried to keep a low profile.

“So, no children and you don’t work. You are financially well off. So tell me, why did you do it? Why take jewelry from a store when you could probably ask your husband for it or buy it yourself?”

“I—I don’t know. It was just there and I couldn’t resist, I guess….I..I just don’t know why.”

“Part of what we will do is to find out ‘why’ and then we can work on eliminating that behavior. Our principle is based upon what we call the three R’s—recognition, remorse and retribution. So to begin, we will have you fill out this question sheet. Again, it is very important that you be as honest as possible.” Then he spoke into the intercom, “Angela, please take Mrs. Bergeron to room 3A and give her the standard multiphasic test profile to complete.”

That last one didn’t sound very good to Cynthia. Retribution? It all sounded so punitive. Where was the counseling?

The assistant, who Cynthia supposed was Angela, led her to a room with a desk and gave her a  long questionnaire to fill out. It was very detailed  personality inventory. She had seen things like this before. But it also asked her to describe every occasion in the past that had resulted in her stealing something. Cynthia was aghast. She couldn’t tell them these things. What if Max found out? What if they decided to go to the police anyway? She decided to play it as if this were her first time. That would be her story.

When she had finished, they took the papers and told her to wait there. Victor reviewed the results in his office and directed his comments to the closed circuit camera. “You see, Mr. Bergeron,” he said shaking his head, “she has lied. She has said here that this is the first time. We will have to move to a different phase now because she must first break down and admit her problem. She is trying to cover it up.”

Through a closed circuit audio link Max asked, ”So what happens now?”

“What happens now will be unpleasant for her, and perhaps for you too, to have to see, but I assure you we have done this many, many times before and no real harm will be done. It will be frightening and moderately painful, but she will then open up to us and be candid.”

“What, this isn’t going to be some kind of shock treatment is it?”

“No, no, not electric shock. Something more fundamental, I think. A sharp shock of a sorts but no shock therapy.”

Well that was good, but Max was more than a little angry at Cynthia now. She had this problem, had put herself (and him) in jeopardy, and then had lied about it. If this was going to get uncomfortable for her, good. So be it.

They led Cynthia back to the office of Dr. Cruz. He was frowning as he perused the papers she had filled out.

“I’m afraid you have not been truthful with us Mrs. Bergeron.”

“Why, what do you mean?”

“You have said in here that this was your first time, that you had not done this before.”

“well, yes I…I” Cynthia stammered, clearly panicked now. She had been found out, but how? What did they know?

“Please observe the TV monitor.” Cruz pushed a remote and a screen behind his desk flickered to life. Cynthia saw herself…in that jewelry store…lifting the necklace. Oh, God. How did they know about that?

“I told you that truthfulness was essential, did I not? And you have lied, have you not?”

All Cynthia could do was bury her face in her hands and nod.

“I told you there would be sanctions for lying, Mrs. Bergeron and regrettably, I must impose them now.” Pushing his intercom button, Cruz said, ”Tell Ms. Chadwick to prepare in room 2D, and send Gina and Peter in to escort Mrs. Bergeron there.”

What? What was going to happen now? She thought.

Max asked the same question of Angela as the two assistants in white lab coats took Cynthia by an arm and one on each side escorted her down the hall. They opened the door of room 2D at the same time that Angela switched the monitor to the interior of that room so that both of them saw the same thing at the same time.

It was a curious mechanical contraption situated beside an upright frame. The lower part of the frame was vertical. At about waist height it was angled forward. There were pads all along the upright legs and the angled top portion. There was a padded crosspiece where the angled part began. The mechanical device had a vertical shaft to which a horizontal arm was attached. It looked like the arm was intended to rotate. Wires led to a desktop computer.


Its purpose became clear to Max when one of the attendants, presumably Ms. Chadwick, fastened what looked like a leather paddle to a receiver in the arm. Unlike the others Mrs. Chadwick was dressed in a type of “matron’s uniform”—blue skirt, white blouse with officer-type epaulettes on her shoulders.
“It’s a spanking machine,” said Angela, anticipating his question. “The paddle is a flexible acrylic covered with leather so it won’t bruise, but it will sting. This is a relatively mild phase of the treatment, but it lets the patient know that things are now very serious. Until we introduce the paddling machine, most of them think this is just a counseling session of some type.”

So that’s it, thought Max. They spank their little butts. He had to chuckle. Cynthia must be going out of her mind about now.

It took Cynthia a moment to take it all in and even then she was confused. What was this? Then they made her stand facing the frame and connected straps around her legs securing them to the vertical legs of the frame. They made her lean forward and placed straps over her forearms which stretched along the tilted part. The lean forward coupled with the crosspiece at her hips made her thrust her buttocks backward clear of the frame. She glanced about in alarm as they fastened her wrists to cuffs in front and her ankles in the rear.

“Wait! Wait! What are you doing?” she cried, now frightened.
At that moment she saw Dr. Cruz enter the room.  “Please, please, what is happening?”

“As I stated earlier, there are sanctions for lying. We must ensure that you do not do this again.” As he spoke, Peter, one of the escorts secured a strap across the backs of her knees and another across the small of her back. At about the same time she looked back in alarm to see what looked to her like a leather paddle being connected to the arm.  Dr. Cruz said, “Raise her skirt, Ms. Chadwick, if you please.”

Now the realization of what was about to happen hit her full force. “No, no…please don’t,” she blubbed. This couldn’t be happening. She was an adult woman and they were going to start a machine that was clearly going to spank her with that paddle. Under the skirt she wore tasteful but brief panties. They wouldn’t protect her at all. It was humiliating beyond belief to be placed in this position, her nearly bare bottom was rudely displayed.

“Set for 12, Ms. Chadwick. Force level 3. Standard interval.”

Ms. Chadwick punched some settings into the computer and there was a momentary silence. Cynthia heard the whine of machinery as the arm moved into position. There was a pause and then the arm swiveled sending the paddle in a swift arc that connected with Cynthia’s bottom with a loud crack.


Cynthia reacted with a loud “oww…no..” and the arm retracted. A broad band of fire seemed to erupt across her exposed seat.  The next stroke came about 10 seconds later and Cynthia let out another squeal of pain and mortification. “Oww, please stop!”

Max watched, concerned now for his wife. “Does that hurt a lot?” The paddle didn’t look that heavy, but it sure made a loud noise.

“It’s actually more embarrassing than painful” explained Angela. “It stings, but it’s all surface sting. No more than a schoolgirl spanking. The buttocks are well designed to absorb punishment like this and it is a light weight implement. Psychologically it’s all about the dispassionate imposition of a consequence—you break the rules, the machine punishes you. The partial baring of the bottom is to shame. The next part is more personal.”

It may have been a mild punishment but Cynthia nevertheless yelped though the whole thing. Twelve times at ten second intervals the arm rotated back then swivelled, cracking the leather paddle against Cynthia’s quivering bottom. By number 12 she was in tears and begging them to stop it. Dr. Cruz nodded to Ms. Chadwick who powered down the machine. “Release her and allow her to compose herself, then return her to my office,” he said and walked out.

It was a chastened Cynthia Bergeron who now sat somewhat gingerly in a chair facing Dr. Cruz. She now regarded the professor in a different light. She had stopped crying now and the sting in her bottom was subsiding. It now felt like a prickly warm glow that was not altogether unpleasant. The embarrassing experience was something else. She still felt totally mortified.

“I am sorry that was necessary, Mrs. Bergeron. We must sometimes emphasize the need for total cooperation and honesty. Remember that you have traded a prison cell for this so you cannot expect that it will be easy.”

Indeed, she thought. But after that, what was next? A long interview with many questions, apparently. Cynthia finally had to admit the full extent of her shoplifting compulsion. Max listened in amazement. It went deeper than he thought. It was totally out of hand. He just hoped that what they had planned would break her of the habit.

What was next was education. She was shown a video that explained the costs of what she did and the effect on others. She was taught about compulsion and additive behaviors and how damaging they were. Dr. Cruz at one point explained to her, “A piece of expensive jewelry that you stole may have cost some clerk their job. Inventory is light and they cannot explain why. What do you think the boss might do?” She could only hang her head in shame. She had not thought of that. To her it had been a game, a lark. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. She did deserve punishment, she supposed.

It had been a long day, but now she was back in the office of Dr. Cruz.
“It is now that we come to the final phase of this program, Mrs. Bergeron. I will have to tell you frankly, that you will not find it pleasant.” A cold chill of alarm shot up Cynthia’s spine—not that room again, not that machine, surely…

As if on cue the two attendants entered and stood by her chair awaiting orders.
“Your responses today have been fed into what you might call a sentencing matrix. You will be informed of the results, but now you will accompany my staff and do exactly what they say. “He nodded to the attendants, Gina and Peter.

Gina took Cynthia by the arm. “Please come with us.” They walked her down a long corridor to a new room. Inside was a bench, a chair and some clothes hooks on the wall. There was a washroom off to the side. “Undress completely,” ordered Gina, “Then put this on.” Gina handed her a white shift, a loose neck to ankle garment that looked like a turn-of-the-century nightgown—the type that heroines in peril always seemed to wear, she thought ruefully. “I would strongly suggest that you attend to any bathroom needs that you may have. Remember, you must remove all clothing before putting on the gown. We will return shortly.”

Max watched as his wife, who was now obviously nervous, wondering what they were going to do to her, complied. God, but she was beautiful, he thought, and he loved her, but he realized that love sometimes meant tough love. “What will they do?” He asked Angela.

Angela looked Max in the eye and said, “This is the hard part, but hear me out. She will be whipped. It will be more painful than the machine and Mary Chadwick will do it, but she is very skilled. There will be temporary marks that will fade in a day or two. The implement that we have found works the best is a synthetic birch rod. It hurts like hell when you are getting it, but the marks fade. It doesn’t penetrate so no welts are formed. But boy does it ever sting.”

Max had to let that sink in. His wife would be whipped before his eyes. So be it. “You sound like you know what it’s like.”

Angela laughed. “You work on Victor’s team, you know the business– inside and out. I actually helped design this program and part of it was figuring out how best to apply the punitive part. We sampled and scored a number of implements and found that this one applied the most ‘ouch’ with the least amount of injury. The birch has a long history both as a punishment instrument and as a health aid. A lighter cousin of what we use is also used in Swedish saunas to stimulate the skin. I’m afraid, though, that what your wife will get is a bit more than a Swedish sauna treatment. The birch is generally a bundle of thin switches about two and one half to three feet long tied together at one end and allowed to fan out at the other. Real switches are impractical so we fabricated synthetic ones. The sting starts mildly but builds from one stroke to the next.  By the time you’ve had a dozen it’s stinging pretty good. At two dozen it’s nearly overwhelming and past that you’ll do anything to make it stop. But it leaves only a red bottom, no deep weals and a day or two later you are fine.That’s why it was, for centuries, the most common whipping tool in use.”

“I thought it was the cane, like Singapore.”

“No, the cane came in during the Victorian era. It was the discovery of rattan and the fact that the Victorians were, at least outwardly, a bit prudish. You see, the birch is always given on the bare skin. The cane can punish through layers of even thick wool. Many an English schoolboy got the cane over thick wool shorts and felt every stroke, believe me. But another reason we use the birch is that enforced nudity and shaming is just as important in the punishment regimen.”

Well, if this is what it took to scare her straight, Max thought.

Back in her dressing room, which was really a cell, Cynthia shivered, naked under the thin gown, and agonized over her predicament. Why, oh why, did I ever get into this mess, thought Cynthia. I’m waiting here like Joan of Arc to be led to the stake. What are they going to do? I know it’s going to be bad, whatever it is. That paddle machine had hurt, but now she hardly felt anything at all. So maybe it’s just to frighten me.

She almost jumped like a cat when the door abruptly opened and Gina and Peter re-appeared. “You will come with us now, Mrs. Bergeron.” She rose unsteadily and her two guards each gripped an arm. She was ushered down several corridors though another door and into a large room with a vaulted ceiling, —no it was a courtyard atrium, she realized. Her heart caught in her throat when she took in the rest of her surroundings. In the middle of the atrium was a dark wooden fixture. It had a post with a crosspiece on top with holes in it. Oh, God it was a stocks or a colonial pillory type thing. The holes were for your hands and neck. She’d read stories or seen pictures—or maybe seen something on the History channel. They put you in there and you had to stand for hours while they pelted you with rotten fruit—was that it? She was going to be put in there all night?


But then she knew that wasn’t it because she saw Ms. Chadwick in her “matron’s outfit” standing to the side holding what looked like a bundle of long switches. They were going to put her in these stocks and whip her with that! She’d be bent over, her bottom sticking out lewdly to be whipped. Then to her horror she saw that seated in chairs to the side of the pillory were not only Dr. Cruz, but the manager from the store where she’d been caught. Now she understood. This was the “retribution” part. The store manager got to see her shamed and punished to satisfy himself that justice had been done. This was the most humiliating thing she could imagine!

Dr. Cruz rose and approached a sort of podium in front of the stocks. “Please step forward, Mrs. Bergeron.”

Cynthia did so on wobbly legs and only because she was guided by her escorts. In the corner of her eyes she could see Ms. Chadwick slowly tapping the switch bundle in her palm as if anxious to get started, a thin smile on her face.

“This phase, as you may have guessed, is retribution. And while you may dread what I am about to tell you, just remember that as a result of this program there will be no police, no trial, no jail. Instead this is the trial and what you see before you is your just punishment.”

Dr. Cruz referred to a sheet of paper in his hand. “We have compiled the results of our interview with you and a list of your past offenses and the value of things you have taken. A computer program decides the penalty based upon a matrix that we have devised, much like sentencing guidelines in criminal courts.” Here Cruz paused and regarded Cynthia thoughtfully. “Mrs. Bergeron…. your sentence is that you are to disrobe and assume the position in this pillory. You will receive three dozen strokes of the birch rod to be applied to your naked buttocks by Ms. Chadwick, our corporal punishment specialist.”

Cynthia gasped. Three dozen…with that?

Dr. Cruz continued. “ You may cry out if you wish as it will be painful. Profanity, however, will not be permitted. For each profane outburst, one stroke will be added to your sentence. Do you understand this?”

Cynthia could only gulp and nod. She feared this was going to be really awful.

“Very well,” intoned Dr Cruz, “please disrobe, Mrs. Bergeron.”

Cynthia looked around. They all stood watching her. She understood that if she did not do what they said, that she would be forced, and worse perhaps graded as “uncooperative” on the report that would go to the store owners. She lifted the gown over her head and let it drop. She was now entirely naked. Gina and Peter took her by the arms and led her to the stocks. They guided her to stand where there were two boards that slid together with half holes so her feet were locked in, immobile. They lifted the crossbar and she was made to bend forward placing her neck in the yoke and her hands in the lower cut outs. When the crossbar was lowered she was locked in. She had never felt so vulnerable. Bent at nearly a right angle her bottom thrust out lewdly, inviting the birch rod, it seemed.

Victor Cruz nodded to Miss Chadwick, “You may begin.”

Mary Chadwick took up her stance to the left of the pillory and carefully measured the distance to Cynthia’s trembling buttocks. She flinched involuntarily when she felt the birch tapping her bottom. For a moment there was dead silence. She could not see but she heard the whine of the switches as Ms Chadwick swung her arm forward to deliver the first stroke.

There was a “swishhh….” Followed by a “thwickkk…”. And fire blossomed across Cynthia’s lush bottom.

Max observed the swish and thwick of the birch. As it struck, Cynthia’s buttocks wobbled, then spang back leaving faint red stripes spread over both cheeks.

“One”, announced Gina making a notation on a clipboard.

God, that stung, thought Cynthia, but not too bad. I can take this. Stroke two piled heat on top of the first stroke. By three she realized her bottom was starting to smart really badly. The swish…thwack of the rod continued. Her bottom quivered and reddened. The sting in her hindquarters mounted as the birch fell again and again.


“She’s trying to assimilate the pain,” said Angela, as Ms Chadwick continued to lay on the birch strokes. There was about a ten second pause between strokes. Mary Chadwick would line up each one, bring her arm back deliberately and let fly with a firm forehand with a deft flick of the wrist at the end. “Unfortunately she won’t be able to do that much longer.”

As if on cue, Cynthia let out a cry. The cries grew louder as the stroke count climbed. Cynthia tried to wriggle. She couldn’t. Not locked in the stocks like she was. All that did was make her bottom wobble. Now her distress was growing because with each swish of the birch her bottom registered more and more stinging heat.

By stroke 18 Cynthia was sobbing. It was getting to be too much. Tears were running down her cheeks. She could not stop herself from squealing like a girl. And so her birching was now accompanied by her steady stream of  yelps, “Oww….yeow….please…arhh….ahh”.


It was an eerie tableau that Max observed, one that seemed plucked from the middle ages.  His beautiful wife, secured in the stocks, buttocks positioned to receive punishment. The town beadle in the form of Mary Chadwick applying stroke after stroke of the rod to her quivering bottom which was now a bright red. Cynthia trying to wriggle but to no avail. There was no sound in the chamber save the swish…thwick of the birch rod, Cynthia’s cries of pain and the almost sotto voce intonation of Gina, “Nineteen….twenty…..twenty-one….” Her bottom jiggling almost lasciviously with each thwack! of the rod.


“I know this looks cruel, but it must be done, you see. It hurts atrociously now during the whipping, but in a day or so she’ll be fine. See, Mary isn’t even applying the birch as hard as she could; she knows how much your wife can take. Plus as you will see it is necessary. She must be taken beyond her ability to handle the pain, but without injury.”

Indeed it looked to Max as if Mary Chadwick was being very deliberate in the way in which she applied the rod, not with a full swing, but a carefully measured one with that wrist snap at the end. Still, Max felt for Cynthia and wondered what it must be like for her to have to endure such a humiliating and painful looking punishment. No one spoke after that and Max watched as the matron’s arm rose and fell. Swish…thwack! 26. Swish…thwack! 27. Cynthia’s bottom cheeks rippled at each impact of the rod.

For Cynthia the birching was stinging her rear end ferociously. Each stroke delivered a fresh burst of agony. She was becoming delirious. At stroke 36 it stopped. It took a moment for Cynthia to register the fact that it was over. Her body quivered and she sobbed uncontrollably.

Victor Cruz motioned to his assistants. “Release her and take her to her dressing room—standard post punishment procedure.” To Peter and Gina this meant that they could apply antiseptic ointment to her bottom and help her dress. The crossbar was unlocked and Cynthia rose, wincing with pain. Her bottom still burned like fire. Her feet were unlocked and Gina placed the gown over her head. She was led back to the dressing room and Gina placed her face down on a padded table. “This will make sure there is no infection,” she said rubbing in ointment. Cynthia asked, “Do you have something for the pain?” Gina shook her head, “Sorry. You’ll have to make do at home. Lingering pain is unfortunately part of the treatment—so you’ll remember. We can call a cab if you cannot drive, but we are instructed to leave you here for a recovery period of 45 minutes.”

While Cynthia lay face down and tried to deal with what had just happened to her, Max was visited in the monitoring room by Victor Cruz.

“I know that must have been difficult, Mr. Bergeron, but in a day or two she will be fully recovered, the marks will have faded and she will feel fine. Hopefully she has learned a lesson. But we also know in cases like this that if the behavior is compulsive, it is not so easily stopped. She must have a partner who keeps her away from such behavior in the future, and that partner is you. Right now she is afraid that you will find out, but you must confront her—do not allow her to lie to you—and you must correct her behavior, forcefully if necessary.”

Max raised his eyebrows at that. “Do you propose that I buy one of those machines?” He was being facetious, he knew, but what did they have in mind?

“No.” Victor Cruz smiled. “Nothing as elaborate as that. I think a simple spanking across your knee should suffice. That usually works between husband and wife. You may realize other benefits as well. You see, I think your wife fears that if she confides in you, that you will no longer love her.”

“But I do. I want to help her. I’d never leave her.”

“So you must show her emphatically that you love her enough to do whatever is necessary.”

Max later thought about it. Cruz was right. He could not be lax and let her backslide into a destructive habit. And she had to be truthful. Secrets like this could be poisonous.

Victor Cruz was very direct about it. “Give her a day or two and then return home. Ask her what she did this weekend. If she lies… punish her.”

Max took a short trip to cement a deal in Seattle before announcing that he would be  returning mid week. Cynthia was relieved. Thank God for a few more days. By this time Cynthia’s marks had faded. They had told her the lines would fade quickly and they were right—you could hardly tell from looking at her that she been whipped. Unfortunately it was not so easy to erase the memory, and in her mind she revisited that awful pain every day. As long as Max never knows, she thought, I can deal with the memory.

Sometimes it seemed surreal—did it really happen? Dr Cruz, the machine, the severe matron with the switches. It all seemed so fantastic now. In a moment of rashness she decided she had to find out. She drove back to the address and spied the building that had housed Behavioral Associates. No one was around. It looked deserted. She got out of car and cautiously approached. It was deserted. There was no sign of anyone, just a big placard in the window that said For Rent. What the hell? But it had happened, as she was reminded every time she sat down. Even with the marks faded, she was tender back there.

Max returned on Thursday. Cynthia had decided on a home cooked meal to welcome him home and had put on a sexy little number of a dress to heat up the mood for what was sure to follow later. Maybe a good fucking can purge this ghost, she thought. And Max was a sexy and virile man. He was always ready for her after a road trip.


He held her hands across the table and asked, “So how was your weekend? Do anything exciting?”

“Oh, no,” she said breezily, ”just the usual with the girls—a little shopping. Nothing much.”

“You seem to be squirming in your chair, dear. Did you get a bite back there?”

“Ah, no it’s nothing really. I just…”She paused. I can’t tell him. But she was clearly telegraphing with body language that she was holding back.

“Just what Cyn? Is everything all right? Are you not telling me something?”

Cynthia was fidgeting and now she was flustered.

“Are you sure nothing out of the ordinary happened this weekend? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I love you and…”

“No, no, nothing happened.” She had snapped at him. Now she felt terrible. All her own fault.

Max’s face fell. There was no help for it. He released her hands.

“Come with me.”

“What?” This was an abrupt shift in attitude on Max’s part.

“Into the study.”

Max took her arm and guided her into his study. Leaving her standing by the desk, he pulled a DVD disk from his briefcase and inserted it into a player. The screen flickered for a moment and then a stunned Cynthia saw herself shoplifting the necklace at Jardin’s.

She sank into a chair and covered her face in her hands. “Oh, no,” she wailed. “Where did you….”

“I own the store, Cyn. And you are lucky it was one of mine. Woman, do you have any idea what might have happened had the police been called?”

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry Max. I’ve learned my lesson, believe me. This last weekend I attended a… a counseling session for this. I was going to tell you, but…”

“I don’t think you were Cynthia, and I know all about it. I hired Dr. Cruz.”

Cynthia was astonished. “Do you know what they…”

Max cut her off. “I know all about it. I saw it. And for keeping this little problem from your husband,” said a stern and determined Max as he came around the desk and grasped Cynthia by the elbow, “I think a little refresher is in order.”

“What? Max, what are you doing?” She shrieked as he dragged her toward the couch.

He sat down and flung her across his lap face down. When he started to pull up her skirt, Cynthia realized what was about to happen. “Max, no. Darling, please,” she begged. But Max was determined. Up came the skirt to reveal Cynthia’s breathtaking bottom clad in wispy black panties framed by a garter belt and black stockings. The sexy sight was enough to make Max wish he could forget the task at hand and move to more pleasurable pursuits. Nope, he decided. Time for that later. He slipped his hand into the elastic of the panties and tugged them down to her lower thighs.

“I’m sorry Cyn, but you very much deserve this.” Max raised his hand and Splat! Splat! Splat! He delivered three hard spanks to the center of Cynthia;s bottom. It stung and Cynthia wailed, “ouch, Max, no.” Another smack rang out, then another. Max started to smack Cynthia;s buttocks  in a pattern designed to cover every inch of her luscious rear cheeks. Left side, right side, center, high, low—Max was determined to thoroughly spank his beautiful wife until her entire backside was a flaming red. So he continued, steadily applying smack after stinging smack while Cynthia writhed and begged for relief. But, she did not attempt to escape, instead she wriggled her bottom somewhat lewdly, Max thought, while he applied the correction. Max observed the ripple of the lush globes as his palm impacted the satiny surfaces. Her bottom almost seemed to dance under the relentless barrage of spanks. She moved her legs in a flutter kicking motion as if that could alleviate the awful sting, at the same time wriggling in a vain attempt to avoid Max’s palm which landed with a steady smack! Splat! Smack!


When he began, Cynthia was merely shocked. It stung but not so bad, in fact at first it was a sexy tingle. But as the spanking progressed, Cynthia found that the stinging was becoming quite unbearable. A searing heat was beginning to overwhelm her. It hurt, not as much as the switches, but bad enough to make her cry out and beg Max to stop. Still some part of her knew that this was what she deserved. For all the deceit. For thinking of herself only. And on some level she wanted Max to continue so that he would drive out the devils that drove her to do such silly stupid things.

Cynthia now began to cry finally—great wracking sobs. She had given up. This was what Max had been waiting for, as he had been coached by Victor Cruz. He stopped, resting his palm of on Cynthia’s beet red behind and began to softly caress the punished globes. Spanking Cyn’s lush buttocks had fully awakened his passions. His cock felt like blue steel.

Cynthia felt it, poking up at her, and it comforted her to know that this punishment, painful as it was, had aroused such apparent passion in her husband.

“It’s all right Cynthia. It’s over now.” He lifted her up. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. He held her while she cried it out, all the guilt over her deceptions.

“Please forgive me Max?” She entreated him with anxious eyes.

“Yes, love. You are forgiven. Tomorrow is a new day. But the night is young. I’m taking you to bed.”

Taking her by the hand, Max led her to their bedroom. Once inside he watched as she took off her dress revealing her magnificent figure. Max got out of his clothes as she tuned to watch. He had a rampant erection. Their first coupling was intense and furious. The second was slow and tender. The third was a surprise to Max. He hadn’t managed three since he’d been 20.


Afterwards they lay exhausted in each others arms.

“So you knew,” said Cynthia.

“And I saw everything,” said Max. “Look, I know it was painful and frightening, but I hope you will accept that I did it out of love for you. I could not divorce you, I love you too much for that, but I could not allow this to continue.”

Cynthia snuggled against him. “I’d take a hundred spankings if it meant keeping you as my husband.”

Max looked at her with amusement. “Based on the lovemaking session we just had, I’d say you just might have to.” He felt Cynthia stiffen momentarily. Then she relaxed and snuggled closer and in a soft voice said, “If you say so.”

Spanking Stewardesses — Part 4


Now it’s time to play switcheroo. This will be my last post featuring this novel for a while. More will come in later posts.


Sharon dressed carefully for her date with Craig Jackson. To begin with, the tall, leggy stewardess selected a filmy pair of black nylon panties and a matching brassiere that made a striking contrast with her white skin. After careful consideration she rejected pantyhose in favor of regular length black nylon stockings held up by a black garter belt. Next, she selected a severe black dress that was fashionably short and ended about four inches above her knees. Finally, she put on her best pair of patent leather pumps which had spike heels and pointed toes.

She and Craig had been dating for several months, but the affair had not become serious until recently. As she waited for him to arrive, Sharon recalled how events had developed during the past couple of weeks. It had all begun at Craig’s apartment one evening when he playfully took her over his knee for a spanking. Although mildly humiliated and a little angry, Sharon had found the spanking quite exciting. As she sat on his lap afterward with her bottom tingling, they had petted much more ardently than they had ever done in the past and at times Sharon had been on the verge of losing her self-control. She could also see that Craig was thoroughly stimulated, and on several occasions she could barely refrain from clasping that obvious bulge in his trousers.


They had begun dating almost nightly after that, missing only those evenings when Sharon was out of town on flights. The spankings became a regular affair, and Sharon would do things to deliberately provoke him into spanking her. He never spanked too hard and always left her clothing in place. One evening they began to talk about the subject and, in a confessional mood, Sharon told him about the system she and her roommates employed to keep order in their apartment. Even though she blushed prettily, she described their system in detail and told him about the time she and Connie had been required to turn their bare bottoms up for twenty swats. Since she knew some of the details about Connie’s affair with Howard, she also told Craig about that—including the fact that Connie was spanked on the bare bottom.

In return, Craig made a confession that Sharon found quite startling at first. He had been raised by a discipline-minded spinster aunt in her thirties who had spanked him regularly during his teenage years! With some embarrassment he admitted that his aunt always prepared him herself, even when he was in his late teens, by making him stand in front of her while she unfastened and lowered his pants and undershorts. She always made him get over her knee for the hairbrush spanking, and he admitted that he could never sit down for hours after one of his aunt’s hairbrush workouts.

Although Sharon had overheard some of Kathy’s comments about discipline for the male, she had never taken her roommate seriously and had never considered paddling a fellow. However, Craig’s disclosures opened up the possibility and Sharon began to find the idea quite intriguing. On the past couple of dates, she had rather indirectly approached the idea of forming an equal partnership as far as spanking was concerned. Craig had seemed quite receptive to the idea, and she intended to pursue the subject further at the earliest opportunity.

A few minutes later, Craig arrived and they exchanged a light greeting kiss. Hand in hand, they walked to a nearby restaurant where they had eaten frequently and which had become their favorite rendezvous. As they were having dessert, Craig suggested seeing a play but Sharon gently demurred. Taking the hint, he suggested that they walk over to his apartment a few blocks away. As they walked to his place, Sharon could hardly wait for things to get started.

As soon as they arrived at the apartment, Sharon seated herself on the couch and crossed her pretty long legs provocatively. For once she didn’t bother to pull her skirt down and allowed it to hike up to the heavier parts of her nylons. She could feel herself blushing slightly as Craig couldn’t resist giving her shapely underpinnings an appreciative glance. He seated himself beside her and she pretended to be indifferent when he kissed her lightly on the lips.

“What’s the matter, hon?” he drew back, looking rather puzzled.

“Oh, nothing,” Sharon answered lightheartedly.

“Maybe I should warm you up a little!” he laughed, starting to pull her over his knees.

“No, wait!” Sharon pulled back, struggling to get free.

She had never offered any resistance in the past and Craig looked somewhat bewildered. “Wait for what?” he asked.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” she told him. In the brief struggle her dress had worked up even farther, revealing the heavier parts of her stockings and a couple of inches of bare white thigh as well as the supporters of her garter belt. She could see that Craig could hardly take his eyes off the eye-catching display, but did nothing to discourage his attentions.

“Go ahead,” he replied.

“Well, to make it short,” Sharon told him. “I think it’s about time we started taking turns warming each other up!”

From her comments on their previous dates, Craig was not surprised. “Well, that sounds fair enough!” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders.

“Does that mean you agree to go along with it?” Sharon asked. “After all, you’re bigger than I am and I can’t very well force you to. However, if you want to keep dating me, I think you’d better agree to be fair about it!”

“Okay!” Craig agreed. “I’ll go along with it!”

Sharon gave him a knowing smile. “Well, in that case, I want you to prove that you’re serious by letting me spank you exactly the way your aunt used to!”

Craig looked quite startled but made a quick recovery. “Don’t think I won’t get revenge later on!” he smiled.

“You’ll have good reason to!” Sharon assured him sweetly. “Now, let’s see. Your aunt always used a hairbrush, I understand. Do you have one?


“Well, bring it to me, little boy!” Sharon told him bossily.

As Craig departed from the room to get the hairbrush, Sharon uncrossed her legs and moved over to the center of the couch. She deliberately kept her skirt back over the tops of her black stockings, forming a provocative lap for him to lie across. When Craig returned in a moment carrying the hairbrush, Sharon quickly noticed the promising curve that was already developing in the front of his trousers. His eyes glued on her long tapering thighs, he handed her the hairbrush. It was an old fashioned brush made of wood rather than the modern plastic type that Sharon had been expecting.

“Now, stand here while I get you ready!” she told him with a knowing smile.

Sharon could barely conceal her amusement as she noticed that he was blushing furiously.

“You don’t really intend to…” he began.

“I told you that I was going to spank you exactly like your aunt used to!” Sharon reminded him with a smile. “And I do mean exactly, dear!”

Craig blushed even more hotly as Sharon unfastened his trousers and allowed them to drop to a ring around his ankles. His tight cotton shorts were bulging in front. Although she was blushing quite prettily herself, Sharon had no intention of turning back at this point.

“My, you’re naughty!” she scolded. “Tell me, did you get naughty like that when your aunt used to spank you?”

“Y-yes!” Craig admitted, looking somewhat shamefaced.

Sharon reached forward with both hands and began to pull the waistband of his shorts down. As the waistband caught in front on his erect penis, Sharon reached inside his shorts with her right hand and pulled his stiff member back out of the way. Craig tensed noticeably as her warm, feminine hand encircled his pulsating shaft. Continuing to hold his hard muscle in her right hand, Sharon used her other hand to work his shorts down to his ankles. Finally releasing his penis from her grip, she patted her nyloned thighs with both hands as a signal for him to stretch out over her attractive lap.

“Get over my lap, you naughty boy!” she told him with a knowing smile.

Hampered somewhat by the lowered trousers and shorts at his ankles, Craig managed to stretch out over her lap. As he lowered his weight against her thighs, both were very much aware of his erect penis pressing against her nylons. Deliberately taking her time to torment him, Sharon paused to tuck his shirttails up very carefully out of the way before reaching for the hairbrush. With a tongue-in-cheek smile, she pressed the back of the hairbrush lightly against his exposed buttocks.

“You’re going to get it but good!” she told him. “And I want you to prove to me that you can take it!”

She could see him anxiously tense his muscles as she lifted the hairbrush. Smack! Sharon brought the hairbrush down with a resounding slap on his right buttock.


“OW!” Craig jumped with surprise and pain.

“Hold still!” Sharon instructed bossily.

As Craig settled back down on her pretty lap, Sharon began putting the hairbrush to him with noisy smacks, first on one side and then the other. After he recovered from his initial surprise, Craig managed to endure the next few spanks rather quietly although he couldn’t avoid catching his breath and jerking slightly each time the brush landed on his exposed bottom. However, as his bottom began to turn pink from the hairbrushing, Craig could no longer hold still and was soon wriggling boyishly on her lap.

“Your bottom is getting red!” Sharon told him, thoroughly enjoying herself. “However, I’m not nearly through with you yet!”

As the pretty stewardess continued applying the brush to his reddening bottom, Craig was soon gasping for breath and squirming with each application of the brush. Sharon could feel his erect penis sliding back and forth on her nyloned thighs as he thrashed about on her lap.

“Hey, that’s enough!” he finally complained, looking back over his shoulders.

“You’re kidding!” Sharon laughed. “You’re going to have to be a lot redder than that before I’m through!”

She began smacking even harder with the brush, smiling as Craig jerked around on her lap. She could see that she was really beginning to get results, and carefully spread the spanks around his scarlet bottom.

“Ow! Ouch! Come on, that’s enough!” Craig could no longer conceal his reaction to the hairbrush spanks that left his bottom prickling and uncomfortably warm.

“Hold still!” Sharon demanded, quite pleased with the results.

“Ow! Please!” Craig continued to plead, twisting his smarting bottom away from her in an effort to avoid the stinging spanks.

“Come on! Stay in position!” Sharon told him. “Don’t be such a baby about it!”

Gasping breathlessly, Craig settled back down into position on her nyloned thighs. Sharon resumed with the hairbrush, covering his bottom with brisk smacks that made him squirm and swing his legs back and forth. It wasn’t long before he was blinking back tears and looking back over his shoulder to plead with her to stop.

“Please, stop! That’s enough! Ouch!” he implored.

“Your bottom is getting nice and red!” Sharon told him with a knowing smile.

The pretty brunette continued putting the hairbrush to his burning bottom, working up one side and down the other. Craig worked his hips frantically back and forth on her lap, his stiff member brushing against her cobwebby nylons. By the time Sharon finally brought the hairbrushing to a halt, Craig’s bottom was a flaming scarlet on both cheeks and he was in tears. As he got off her lap, she playfully rubbed the bristled side of the brush against his scarlet bottom.

Sharon had to laugh as Craig stood there in front of her tearfully rubbing his blazing bottom with both hands. Despite his obvious distress, his bulging and fully erect penis made it quite apparent that he had been thoroughly aroused by the discipline inflicted by the longlegged stewardess. As she watched him trying to rub some of the sting out of his bottom, Sharon made no effort to pull down her dress and left it up over the tops of her black stockings.

“You just wait!” he told her good naturedly. “Don’t think I’m going to let you get by with that!”

As Sharon watched, he began removing his clothing and was soon completely nude. Getting to her feet, Sharon grasped his hard lance with one hand and snuggled close to him.

“Why don’t we just forget about my spanking for the time being?” she smiled flirtatiously, using all her girlish charms to distract him. Her warm hand gently stroked his pulsating member. “There are so many other things we could do!”

“We’ll do those things later!” he told her.

Sharon’s lips formed a pretty pout and she released her grip on his penis. Craig sat down on the couch and lost no time pulling her face down over his lap. Sharon offered no resistance and soon found herself looking down at the carpet with her long legs stretched out on the couch. Craig promptly pulled her dress up in back, revealing an exciting gap of white flesh between the tops of her stockings and her black panties. Pulling the dress back to her waist, he gazed at her girlishly wide and rotund buttocks encased in the snugfitting panties. The wispy panties could barely contain all of her plump charms.

After a long pause, Craig reached for the waistband of her panties and slowly began drawing them down off her hips. Blushing beet red and keeping her eyes tightly closed, Sharon stifled an embarrassed gasp as she felt her pretty young buttocks being unveiled before his inspecting masculine eyes. She could just feel his eyes drinking in her feminine charms and her pretty gluteal muscles flexed as she shriveled with embarrassment.

“Lift your hips up a little, honey!” he told her. With a low moan, Sharon embarrassedly complied with the humbling order. As she raised herself just slightly off his lap, Craig pulled the panties down to completely expose her plump, rounded buttocks. Taking his time about it, he pulled the panties below the tops of her stockings where they would be completely out of the way. He left her black garter belt and stockings in place, allowing them to frame her pretty, quivering spanking surfaces.

The hairbrush was nearby on the couch, but Craig preferred the personal contact of his hand. Dropping his left forearm over her trim bare waist, he raised his right hand in the air and brought it down smartly against her right buttock. SMACK!


“Eeek!” Sharon uttered a girlish shriek as his capable palm smacked against her tender and yielding bottom. She squirmed on his lap, her feet flying up in the air.

Smack! Smack! Holding the longlegged young brunette firmly down on his lap, Craig began spanking her inviting bottom all over with his open hand. Sharon squealed with each spank, squirming prettily about on his naked lap and swinging her shapely nyloned legs back and forth. As she squirmed about, Craig could occasionally glimpse the enticing pink crevice surrounded by the curly patch of dark brown hair. Fully aware of how much she was exposing herself, Sharon blushed furiously but couldn’t keep her long legs together as the smarting spanks descended against both pretty bottom cheeks.

“Ow! Eeeekkk! Ouch! Please, stop! OW! Pleeeese!” Sharon yelped and pleaded as Craig’s palm continued to bounce up and down on her smarting and prickling bottom.

As Sharon’s sensitive buttocks began to smart and burn all over from the crisp smacks, the comely brunette couldn’t avoid kicking her long legs hard and wide as she thrashed about breathlessly on his lap. Craig couldn’t help staring at the display of inviting feminine charms and could barely refrain from slipping an exploratory finger into the pretty pink aperture at the fork of her legs.

“Ouch! Pleeeesee! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeees!” Sharon pleaded, bursting into tears. “Please, stop! I can’t stand it any more! Please, it hurts something awful!”


As Craig’s hand continued warming her crimson nates, Sharon cried like a little girl and frantically tried to twist away from the burning spanks. Craig had originally planned to switch to the hairbrush at some stage of the proceedings, but found that the personal contact of his palm on her velvety soft buttocks was more tempting. He applied each spank with care, allowing his palm and fingers to rest in place for a moment afterward.

“Pleeeeeeeese! Pleeeeeeeese!” Sharon shrieked hoarsely, kicking the couch with her pointed heels as she frantically kicked her pretty legs up and down. “Pleeeeease! I’m just burning up!”

Craig didn’t stop until Sharon’s girlishly plump buttocks were fire red on both cheeks, and the pretty stewardess was sobbing and tearfully pleading with him to stop. When he finally relaxed his grip on her, Sharon jumped to her feet and frantically began rubbing her red bottom with both hands. After a moment she recovered her composure somewhat and, her eyes fastened on his erect penis, began removing her clothing. Craig watched appreciatively as the long-legged brunette removed everything but her garter belt and black stockings.

Blushing quite prettily but making no effort to cover herself up, Sharon stood there for a moment as he stared at her full, rose tipped breasts and the intriguing triangle of dark brown hair at the top of her legs.

“Come here, honey!” he told her quietly.

Looking delightfully embarrassed, Sharon padded over to him in her stocking feet. Cupping his hands gently around her stinging bottom, he gradually pulled her closer to him and pressed his face into the inviting patch of hair. The area was already a little damp and sticky.

“Ooooh!” Sharon trembled as he worked his face down between her legs, his mouth pressed against the warm lips of her vulva. “Perhaps we could both…”

She watched eagerly as Craig stretched out on his back on the couch. Leaving on her garter belt and hose, Sharon knelt over him with her knees next to his shoulders and leaned forward on her hands and elbows. Looking up into the pretty nest of dark brown hair, Craig quickly raised his head from the couch and began licking the pink cleft. Feeling a masculine tongue caressing her most sensitive parts, Sharon squirmed with delight and lowered her weight against him. His nose between the crevice of her scarlet buttocks, he began licking her moist charms.

As she lowered herself over him, Sharon found her pretty face next to his bulging and pulsating member. Opening her mouth, she slid her tongue gently over the crown of his sturdy shaft, feeling his entire body tense with pleasure at the intimate caress. Continuing to flick his throbbing penis as if it were an ice cream cone, Sharon worked her hands under his hips and dug her fingernails lightly into his buttocks. As she suspected, he was still quite sensitive from the hairbrush spanking she had administered, and his body stiffened as she tormented him by scraping his hips lightly with her nails.

In response, he worked his tongue between the outer lips of her vulva, caressing her most intimate parts. Sharon wriggled with girlish delight atop him, bathing his face with her warm feminine fluids and leaving him completely drenched. As he worked his tongue against her clitoris, the squishing and slurping sounds were quite audible. Sharon began moving her pelvis back and forth, brushing her wet cunny all over his face.

Resting her chin on his stomach, Sharon opened her pretty mouth as far as she could and gradually began working his pulsing member into her mouth. Craig coiled with tension under her as he felt her moist and warm mouth surrounding his bone hard shaft. Sharon inserted it very slowly, constantly nibbling with her lips as she did so. Even though it forced her jaws apart almost uncomfortably, Sharon worked the big head between her teeth and began to see how far she could get it into her mouth. By slowly becoming accustomed to having more and more of it in her mouth, she finally managed to work it in nearly to the back of her mouth.

Feeling his stiff member plunged deeply into Sharon’s pretty mouth, Craig employed his fingers to spread the cheeks of her bottom apart and began running his tongue up and down the full length of her split. Feeling a masculine tongue tormenting her pink anus, Sharon twisted violently and gulped heavily on his throbbing penis. She began sucking on it with audible gulps, continuing to torment his sensitive hips with her fingernails. Thoroughly lubricated by her saliva, his slippery penis slid back and forth in her mouth.

After caressing the valley between her buttocks with his tongue, Craig returned to the coral opening of her vulva. As he once again worked his tongue between the outer lips, Sharon’s moisture covered his face and forced him to swallow her fluids. She gave a frantic jerk as his tongue once again found her clitoris, and lowered her weight completely on his face.

Breathlessly sliding her mouth back and forth on his aching penis, Sharon could feel the tension building up inside him as he held himself back as much as possible. Caressing her scarlet buttocks with his hands, Craig began concentrating almost entirely on her highly sensitive clitoris, flicking it repeatedly with his tongue. Squirming frantically around on his face, Sharon began to lose her self-control completely. Drenching his face in her moisture, she shuddered violently and suddenly reached a quivering orgasm. Moaning and tossing, she squirmed about on top of him.

Craig could hold himself back no longer and, with a sudden jerk of his pelvis, sent his climax gushing into her throat. Sharon instinctively started to pull away, but quickly changed her mind and took the warm, sticky spurts in her mouth. As she gulped and swallowed hard, she could feel Craig’s tongue once again traveling the full length of her split.

Spanking Stewardesses — Part 3

Now for the next part of the story we switch to a more traditional orientation. [Art by Endart]




“Young lady, if you’re late for one more date, I’m going to turn you over my knee!” Howard Spencer told Connie with obvious irritation.


The pretty stewardess found herself blushing warmly, and wondered if he really meant business. Connie had been dating Howard for several months, and was quite intrigued by his decisive and masculine personality. Even though he was nearly fifteen years her senior, Connie was quite interested in exploring the possibility to marriage. At thirty-seven, Howard was a successful junior executive with a large corporation. He had been married previously and had custody of his only child, Gloria, a pretty brunette who was going on eighteen.

“You wouldn’t dare spank me!” Connie replied, deliberately trying to find out what he might do. Although she had no desire to be put through another workout like the one she and Sharon had endured a couple of weeks ago, a playful spanking over a masculine knee might prove quite interesting.

“Wouldn’t I?” Howard replied as they walked toward his parked car. “Maybe we’ll just see about that!”

He eyed her closely and Connie could feel her ears burning. Howard opened the car door and the pretty blonde slid into the front seat, her short blue mini-dress riding up to reveal shapely thighs encased in sheer dark brown nylons. As he closed the door and walked around the car to get in on the other side, Connie automatically started to pull her dress down but decided against it. Crossing her pretty legs provocatively, she allowed her dress to remain up to the tops of her long line stockings. As Howard opened the door, she noticed that he was quite aware of her nyloned charms. Although she couldn’t help blushing prettily at her own boldness, she made no effort to adjust her dress.

“You aren’t really going to spank me, are you?” she teased, swinging her foot back and forth.

“Oh, yes I am!” Howard replied, realizing instantly that she was deliberately leading him on. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

When he began driving in the direction of his apartment, Connie decided that he just might not be kidding. “I thought we were going out to dinner,” she spoke up.

“We will, afterwards,” he replied. “But first we’ll stop at my place!”

“But you can’t spank me there!” Connie teased. “After all, Gloria would hear everything!”

“Gloria’s out tonight,” he told her. “Besides, I don’t think Gloria would see anything unusual about a young lady getting a spanking!”

Connie looked quite surprised and immediately recalled how Kathy had described her home experiences with corporal punishment.


“Come on, you don’t mean you still spank Gloria at her age?” she asked with feigned innocence.

“That’s why she’s so well behaved!” Howard replied indirectly.

“But how? I mean…” Connie couldn’t suppress her curiosity.

“You’ll find out soon enough!” he replied.

Connie swallowed and suddenly began to feel rather apprehensive. At first, she had just assumed that Howard was only kidding and that at most she would get only a playful spanking over her clothing. But now she began to wonder and could feel her face growing quite red at some of the possibilities. No longer in such a flirtatious mood, she pulled the hem of her short dress down as far as it would go.

“Howard… Really… I…” she found herself at a loss for words.

He parked the car in the underground garage beneath his apartment, and escorted Connie into the elevator. Her knees feeling a little weak under her, Connie meekly accompanied him without saying anything. Once they were inside his well furnished apartment, Howard calmly removed his suit coat and hung it in the closet. Biting her lip, Connie watched nervously as he loosened his tie and started rolling his sleeves up.

“Please, honey, you’re not really going to spank me?” Connie appealed in a small voice, trying to use all of her girlish charms to talk him out of it. Although she was quite apprehensive, she was also extremely curious to see exactly what he would do.

“I certainly am!” he told her curtly.

“Please, Howard, I’ve never been spanked by a man!” Connie gulped. “Please, don’t! Please, it’s too embarrassing!”

Without responding, he took her by the hand and started leading her into the study. Feeling completely juvenile and a little frightened, Connie reluctantly accompanied him. Howard switched on the light in the study and leaving Connie standing in the middle of the room, walked over to a closet. Connie gulped and her pretty knees buckled slightly as he brought out a black leather razor strap!


“Howard!” she gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth as she stared at the gleaming black strap. “You’re not…”

Placing the strap on top of his desk, he brought a plain wooden chair from one side of the room and placed it in-front of his desk. Sitting down on the chair, he spread his legs slightly apart and looked at Connie. In her brief blue mini-dress, dark brown stockings and high heels, the petite blonde looked both appealing and downright scared. He could see her pretty knees trembling slightly as she anxiously awaited his next move.

“Come here, young lady!” he ordered in a firm voice. “It’s about time you had some discipline!”

Connie gulped heavily and looked imploringly at him. “Please!” she stammered. “J-just use your hand. Don’t use that awful…”

Taking very small steps, she slowly walked over to him. Howard clasped her firmly and firmly but gently pulled the pretty blond face down over his capable lap. As he pulled her into position over his knees, Connie suddenly realized that she could do nothing to keep her short mini-dress from riding up embarrassingly in back and let out a high-pitched shriek as she became aware of her own exposure. Howard looked down to admire the gap of bare white thigh that appeared above the tops of her dark brown nylons.


“Please, let me go!” Connie demanded, keeping her pretty legs together and trying to reach back with one hand to pull her dress down. Howard grabbed her right wrist with his left hand and pressed it against the small of her back.

“Ow! Please!” Connie pleaded, feeling both helpless and embarrassed. He was much stronger than she and held her easily in position. After taking a long, admiring look at her shapely nyloned legs and tapering thighs, he reached down with his right hand and promptly pulled her short dress up to reveal trim black panties.

“Oh no!” Connie shrieked with outraged modesty as her pantie-clad bottom came into view. “Don’t you dare! Stop it!”

She instinctively tried to struggle but succeeded only squirming around prettily on his lap, swinging her nylon-clad legs merrily back and forth.

“Pull my dress down! Let me go! Please!” she alternately pleaded and demanded as she felt Howard’s eyes inspecting her plump, rounded bottom.

Holding her easily over his lap, Howard paused to admire her cute bottom and shapely, nyloned legs and then hooked a finger into the waistband of her panties.

“Don’t you dare!” Connie screamed, kicking her legs furiously and struggling to get loose. “Don’t you dare!”

As the pretty stewardess shrieked and struggled on his lap, Howard slowly began peeling down the wispy panties, gradually working them down over the soft, white mounds.

“I’ll never forgive you for this!” Connie threatened. “I mean it! I won’t!”

Howard worked the panties down below her hips and began pulling them down her legs. Realizing that further struggling was pointless and would only expose her all the more, Connie lay quietly over his lap with her shapely legs pressed tightly together. Staring at the girlishly plump white mounds that lay quivering across his lap, Howard pulled the panties down well below the tops of her stockings.

Crying softly with embarrassment, Connie shuddered but made no effort to resist as he began unfastening the supporters of her garter belt. His fingers brushing lightly against her velvety smooth thighs, he slowly unfastened her stockings and allowed them to sag down her white legs. Grasping the top of her right stocking, he turned it back to reveal several more inches of bare flesh. Next, he grasped the top of her left stocking and turned it back in similar fashion. As Connie’s pretty spanking surfaces lay completely exposed upon his lap, the pretty young blonde quivered with embarrassment and anxiety.


“Please don’t spank me!” she pleaded, feeling horribly exposed with her bare flesh on display before him.

Howard raised his right hand in the air and brought it down with a light smack on Connie’s right buttock, letting his hand rest in place for a moment afterward on the silken flesh. Connie shriveled with humiliation as she felt a masculine hand confidently cupped over her pretty bottom.

“Oooh!” she moaned with embarrassment and despair.

Howard applied another light smack to her right cheek, once again letting his hand rest in place for a moment afterward. Connie jerked her blonde head back and involuntarily wriggled under him. Howard gave the right cheek another light slap, making Connie squirm more from shame than pain. By this time her right cheek was a pretty pink, making the left cheek pale by comparison. Twisting and feeling thoroughly humiliated and anxious, Connie could already tell that he had had considerable experience.

After a slight pause, Howard proceeded to administer some light slaps to Connie’s left buttock. In a few moments the attractive young stewardess’ pert behind was beginning to feel prickly warm on both sides, and she was wriggling a little breathlessly on his lap. After another pause to admire her slightly pink charms, Howard began alternating light smacks first on one side and then the other. Connie gasped and twisted with each smack, biting her pretty lip anxiously and still trying to preserve her modesty as much as possible.

Ow! Ooh! Ouch, please!” she exclaimed, her cute bottom feeling uncomfortably warm and itchy.

Howard continued the tormenting light slaps, working down the backs of her thighs to her stockings. As Connie squirmed about haplessly on his lap, she suddenly became aware of the powerful erection pressing against the front of his trousers! She gasped with astonishment and instinctively tried to hold her legs even more tightly together. But the combination of a male hand exploring her feminine charms and an erect penis pressing against her side soon produced their effect, and despite her great embarrassment Connie soon found that she was thoroughly aroused. With deep mortification she felt her moisture dripping against his trouser leg, and knew that it wouldn’t be long before he realized how excited she was.


When Connie’s pretty bottom and upper thighs were a healthy shade of pink, Howard paused for a moment and then gave her a brisk smack right across the crevice.

“Owww!” Connie shrieked as his hand flattened her flesh. She bucked up on his lap, her legs jerking upward as if pulled on strings. Howard held his hand in place for a moment afterward, pressing firmly down against the yielding flesh.

“Please, not so hard!” she pleaded, looking back anxiously over her shoulder.

After a moment, Howard reached back to the desk and picked up the strap.

“No! Not that, please!” Connie shrieked. “Please, just use your hand! Please, I couldn’t stand that! Please!”

She briefly tried to struggle, but he held her firmly in position over his lap.

“Please, don’t!” Connie pleaded, still trying to twist her pink bottom away from the strap. She shriveled as Howard draped the well oiled strap lightly over her tingling buttocks, leaving it there for a moment.

“Please, honey, I’ll do anything you want!” she pleaded, cringing at the thought of having that lithe, smooth strap applied to her prickling bare bottom. Squirming around, she once again became aware of his erection and in her anxiety almost blurted out explicitly what she would be willing to do to avoid the strap.

Howard got a good grip on the strap and lifted it in the air. SMACK!

“OWWWW!” Connie screamed as the strap descended briskly against her pretty seat. She squirmed frantically on his lap, her nyloned legs kicking wildly back and forth.


Smack! Smack! Howard began applying the strap at regular intervals, covering both rosy cheeks with each application. As her bottom quickly caught afire under the burning strokes, Connie cried and shrieked with pain. In her distress she forgot all about her modesty and kicked her shapely legs wide and hard, continually revealing her pink groove to his admiring gaze. She finally managed to kick off her shoes and waved her pretty stocking feet wildly in the air with each application of the strap.

“Ouch! Please! Plleeeeeeeeese! I’ll do anything you say! Ow! Please! Owwww!” she carried on.

Smack! Splat! Howard continued putting the strap to her reddening bottom. Sobbing and twisting frantically on his lap, Connie looked thoroughly distraught and kept trying to plead with him to spare her.

“I can’t stand any more!” she wailed. “Please, I’ll do anything! Anything! I mean it!”

“You really mean that?” Howard paused.

“Y-yes!” Connie gasped. “I’ll do what you want! Oh please, no more!”


He relaxed his grip on her and Connie tearfully slid to her knees between his legs. Her blonde hair mussed and her makeup smeared from her tears, she looked quite anxious and upset as she stared at the bulge in his trousers.

“I’ve never…” she began nervously, casting a quick shamefaced glance. “I mean… I don’t even know how!”

“You’ll learn!” he smiled at her. “Go ahead and take it out yourself!”

Brushing back her tears and looking a little apprehensive, Connie reached out with both hands and began unzipping his trousers.

“Take it out!” he told her when she hesitated.

Connie inserted her soft hand into his trousers and cupped the base of his throbbing member. Pulling it out, she gulped as she saw how big it was. Eyes wide open and blushing furiously, she stared at the large crown of his sturdy shaft.

“I don’t see how I can…” she protested meekly.

“Go ahead!” he told her in a quiet but firm voice. “We’ll start out slow and you’ll get used to it!”

Still gripping the base of his member with her soft hand, Connie leaned forward and pressed her pink lips against the tip of his stiff penis. Howard caught his breath sharply as he suddenly felt her moist tongue caressing the head of his throbbing member. Despite her fears, it was readily apparent that she was quite ready and even eager for the new experience. Watching her pretty blonde head closely, he leaned back and awaited developments.

After meekly licking the head for several moments, Connie swallowed hard and opened her pretty mouth as far as she could. Slowly and quite apprehensively, she began lowering her mouth over his erect maleness. Feeling the soft moistness of her open mouth encircling his throbbing member, Howard exhaled sharply and hooked his legs around her back to hold her in position before him. Connie worked the tip of his stiff penis into her mouth and, moaning softly, paused to become adjusted to it. As her saliva began to lubricate his member, she stroked the base gently with her hand.

Howard gave her a moment to become accustomed to having it in her mouth; then tapped her head lightly with his finger as a signal to proceed. With a low-sounding moan, the shapely young blonde opened her mouth even farther, gradually taking more of the sturdy muscle between her teeth. By this time, he could feel the tip of his member brushing against the moist roof of her mouth. Connie gulped heavily and swallowed hard; pausing once again to become accustomed to having her pretty mouth filled with his masculine spear.

Once again Howard lightly tapped her on the head, and Connie began working it in even farther. As he watched more and more of his erect member disappear between her pretty lips, Howard observed her carefully. Blushing prettily and keeping her eyes closed, the shapely stewardess submissively took his hard shaft deep into her mouth. A little breathless and gulping heavily from time to time, she slowly began sucking and nibbling on it. She seemed to catch on quite quickly and in a moment her pretty blonde head was bobbing up and down on his lap.

It wasn’t long before his member was thoroughly lubricated and slick, and Connie was gulping heavily on her own saliva. “Why don’t you catch your breath a minute, honey?” he told her, reaching under her chin to pull her head up.

Although she was quite breathless, Connie acted quite reluctant and slowly took it out of her mouth. She left her head in his lap, and he could feel her breathing against his erect organ. After pausing to catch her breath for only a moment, Connie rather impatiently opened her pretty mouth and once again began working his maleness between her soft lips. His moist penis slid easily into the inviting cavity, and he watched with some surprise as Connie very quickly took it quite deeply into her mouth.

As she began moving her blonde head up and down once again on his throbbing and aching shaft, Howard tensed in his chair and held his hands down over her head. Gasping and breathless, Connie made no effort to escape and submissively allowed him to maneuver her pretty head up and down in his lap. Suddenly clasping her head firmly between his hands, Howard rose a few inches off his chair and erupted in her mouth. As the warm, murky fluids splashed into her mouth and throat, Connie gulped heavily and uttered a half-strangled cry. For a moment it appeared that she might choke, but she recovered quickly.

As his member began to go limp, Connie rested her head in his lap for a moment to catch her breath. She then submissively replaced it in his trousers and zipped them up.


When Howard took her out to dinner afterward, the pretty young stewardess blushed prettily and meekly kept her eyes averted. Her bottom still smarting somewhat from the spanking and strapping, she sat rather gingerly and blushed even more when Howard teased her about her stinging bottom. It was fully apparent to both of them that she fully approved of his mastery.

After a leisurely dinner, Howard drove her back to his apartment. Connie, who had been expecting to be taken home, was agreeably surprised. “You’re not going to spank me again, are you?” she teased as they got into the elevator that led to his apartment.

“Well, not tonight!” he conceded.

As they walked into the apartment, Howard flicked on the light and quickly led her into the bedroom. As he sat on the side of the bed, he pulled Connie down on his lap and kissed her lightly. The pretty blonde made no effort to keep her short dress from working up as she slipped one arm over his shoulders and kissed him hard in response. As their tongues began to explore each other’s mouths, Howard worked his hand between her legs and slipped a finger under the legband of her panties. The area was already soaking wet. Connie wriggled with delight and clasped an eager hand down over the bulge that had formed in his pants.

“Why don’t you take my stockings off?” Connie asked him with a flirtatious smile.

Blushing prettily, Connie watched as Howard unhooked her supporters and slowly pulled the dark brown nylons down her smooth white legs. As he rolled the stockings around her ankles, she lifted first one leg and then the other as he slipped off her high heels and then peeled off her nylons. Wriggling her painted toenails and holding her hand over the lump in his trousers, Connie sat quietly as he proceeded to undress her completely by removing her dress, brassiere, garter belt and panties.

Gazing at her full, pink tipped breasts and the enticing tuft of down hair at the fork of her legs, Howard leaned forward and kissed her pink nipples. Connie gasped and arched her back, pressing his face down against her breasts. As he began kissing them all over, they instantly became taut and he could feel her excitement as she twisted about on his lap. Picking up in his arms, he gently stretched her out on the bed.

“Hurry up!” Connie told him invitingly, spreading her shapely legs apart and drawing her knees back, revealing the glistening patch of hair and the enticing coral slit.

Unable to take his eyes from her, Howard hastily removed his clothes and knelt on the bed at her feet. Leaning forward on his elbows, he promptly lowered his face against the moist nest and planted a kiss on the pink lips of her vulva.

“Oooooh!” Connie gasped. She had not been expecting such an intimate caress and shuddered with delight. Slipping his hands under her bottom, he raised her up slightly and ran his tongue along the moist cleft. Connie’s bottom was still red and tender from the spanking, and the pretty young blonde wriggled furiously as his hands dug into her sensitive posterior while his tongue caressed her most intimate parts. In a moment, she was completely breathless and dripping.

“Please, Howie!” she implored.

Giving the pretty pink aperture one final lick with his tongue, Howard removed his hands from beneath her hips and began to lower his body over hers. Connie anxiously grabbed his tense member and guided it between her legs. In a moment the tip of his male rod was brushing against the wet hair and beginning to penetrate the warm and slippery lips of her vulva.

“Oooh!” Connie gasped as she felt the hard masculine muscle spreading her vaginal canal apart.

As Howard’s member penetrated her soft and yielding body, Connie hooked her pretty legs around the backs of his legs and clasped her arms tightly around his back. After pausing for a moment with his throbbing shaft deep inside the lush, wet channel, Howard slowly began rocking back and forth on top of her. As his stiff member slid back and forth inside her, the walls of her vagina seemed to cling to him as she began twisting around beneath him in response to his movements.

“Oooh! Oh!” Connie moaned with delight, scraping his back with her fingernails and clasping him even more firmly with her pretty legs.

As Howard automatically began to pump with faster movements, Connie responded by rhythmically rocking her pelvis with equally quick movements. In a short time both were pumping furiously, and Connie was almost clawing him to make him penetrate her all the more deeply. Finally, with a breathless shove he shoved his throbbing member forward as far as it would go and released his fluids inside her. Feeling the warm gush inside her, Connie clung to him and erupted with a delightful climax.

Spanking Stewardesses — Part 2

The next part of our story switches to the F/M side of things.



“I told you to be here at eight o’clock and I mean it!” Kathy abruptly hung up the phone. The shapely young stewardess had just returned from a flight and was quite irritated that her boyfriend, Frank Morris, had failed to meet her at the airport.

“Sounds as if you have him completely under control!” Eleanor smiled at her.

“Not as much as he’s going to be!” Kathy replied with a note of determination in her voice.

The two of them were alone in the apartment. Kathy was preparing to go out and was seated at a vanity table. Wearing a trim white slip that clung to her pretty figure, she removed her slippers and inserted one dainty foot into a black nylon. She carefully pulled the stocking up her shapely leg, and fastened it tautly to the suspenders of her black garter belt.

“Are you going to use the paddle on him?” Eleanor asked with a bemused smile. Kathy had threatened to paddle Frank on several occasions in the past; otherwise, the idea would never have occurred to Eleanor.

“Well, why not?” Kathy demanded, starting to put on her other stocking. “What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, as far as I can see. Besides, with all the experience I have had on the receiving end both at home and here, I figure it’s my turn to hand out some spankings!”tumblr_nsbjytngad1ubl9p1o5_400

“What does Frank say about that?” Eleanor asked.

“Frank does what I say or else!” Kathy replied, hooking up her stocking and smoothing her slip down. It was well known among the six roommates that Kathy had Frank pretty much under her thumb although they had been dating only a few weeks. All of them had overheard her on the phone giving him orders and scolding him thoroughly for any shortcoming.

“I wish I knew your secret!” Eleanor told her.

Kathy slipped her trim feet into a pair of patent leather pumps with spike heels and pointed toes, and walked over to the closet. She selected a trim white dress that barely covered her stocking tops and made a vivid contrast with her black hosiery and pumps. After putting on the dress, Kathy picked up one of the red maple paddles and started wrapping it in some newspaper.

“You’re not really serious?” Eleanor looked quite surprised.

“Oh yes I am!” Kathy replied.

“What if he decides to use it on you?” Eleanor asked. Eleanor asked. “After all, he’s nearly a foot taller than you!”

“He wouldn’t dare!” Kathy retorted sharply.


When Frank pulled up outside in his sports car, Kathy didn’t wait for him to come to the door. Instead, she promptly went out to the car and sat down in the front seat beside him. “Where were you earlier this evening?” she demanded, looking angrily at him.

“I got tied up,” Frank explained lamely. “I’m sorry!”

“That’s the second time it’s happened!” Kathy told him in an angry tone. “This time I’m going to punish you!”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked, looking curiously at the package in her lap.

“I mean I’m going to paddle you!” she replied.tumblr_nqwn90zt0w1usx3uao1_540

“Be serious.” he went on.

“I am serious!” Kathy told him, waving the package in the air.

Frank looked quite startled and gulped slightly. “You can’t…” he started to protest.

“Oh, can’t I?” Kathy flashed an angry look at him. “Either you agree to get spanked or the date’s off!”

Frank spent the next several minutes trying to reason with the determined young woman, but Kathy remained adamant. When he continued to try to change her mind, Kathy finally opened the car door and told him that the date was off.

“All right, Kathy. Have it your way!” he finally capitulated. “But really, I never heard of anything so ridiculous!”

“Take me to your apartment!” Kathy instructed him. “You’ve got a good spanking coming to you and I’m going to see that you get it!”

Frank was quiet for several minutes as they drove toward his apartment west of Central Park. “Are you really going to use that?” he finally asked, pointing toward the paddle.

“Of course!” Kathy replied. “If we girls can take it, so can you!”

“You mean you girls paddle each other?” he asked with considerable surprise.

“Yes and it really gets results too!” Kathy answered. “Especially when it’s applied to the bare bottom!”

“You weren’t thinking…” he looked quite alarmed.

“That’s right!” Kathy smiled confidently at him. “There’s not going to be anything between you and the paddle! If we girls can stand to turn our bare bottoms up for a workout, you can tool!”

“Now, Kathy, that’s going too far!” Frank protested. “After all, I mean… Well, I’m not going to let you do that!”

“Okay,” Kathy replied. “You can just turn right around and take me home!”

From her tone of voice, Frank could tell that she wasn’t kidding. “Come on, Kathy, be reasonable!” he continued to protest.

“Take me home!” she told him adamantly.

Frank hesitated for a moment and then swallowed hard. “All right, you win!” he finally told her.

Kathy gave him a knowing smile. “I’m really going to give you a hot bottom for being so stubborn!” she told him.tumblr_n6qz0fgqqt1rnze26o1_500

When they arrived at Frank’s apartment, he escorted her inside and turned on the lights. Smiling and looked quite pleased and confident, Kathy seated herself on the couch and crossed her pretty legs with a flourish. She made no effort to adjust her short dress, which rode up to the tops of her black stockings and left both her supporters and a glimpse of bare thigh on display. Ordinarily she would have worn pantyhose with such an abbreviated dress, but had deliberately worn regular length stockings just to tantalize Frank all the more. In the short time they had been dating, Kathy had become well acquainted with his preferences and knew how to lead him on as much as she desired.

Frank stood awkwardly in front of her, unable to take his eyes off her shapely legs as Kathy unwrapped the paddle from the newspaper. Gripping the handle of the paddle in her right hand, she patted it against her open left palm and looked up at him with a knowing smile.


“Why don’t you bring me a drink first?” she smiled at him. “I don’t see why we should be in any hurry!”

Frank swallowed and looked for a moment as if he wished to protest. However, he turned and walked over to a portable bar at one end of the spacious living room and began to mix Kathy’s favorite drink for her. While she leaned back comfortably on the couch swinging one pretty leg provocatively back and forth, he walked over to her and placed the drink on a small coffee table in front of her. After he had lit a cigarette for her, Kathy took a sip on the drink and placed it back on the coffee table.

“Now, let’s see!” she began, looking around the room. “Why don’t you take that hassock over there and put it in the middle of the room?”

She pointed to a brown leather hassock at one side of the room. As directed, Frank pulled the hassock out to the center of the room.

“Yes, that’s right!” Kathy told him, taking another sip on her drink. “Now kneel in front of the hassock with your back to me!”

Frank’s Adams-apple gulped and he gave her an imploring look.

“Hurry up!” Kathy told him with a trace of irritation in her voice.

Looking both grim and embarrassed, Frank dropped to his knees in front of the hassock with his back to Kathy.

“Now get yourself ready!” Kathy demanded.

After a moment’s hesitation, he embarrassedly began fumbling with his belt. Kathy watched from the couch as he undid his belt and opened his trousers. Blushing and looking thoroughly mortified, he allowed his trousers to fall down around his knees. Observing his embarrassment, Kathy couldn’t suppress a smile as his white boxer shorts came into view.tumblr_mf3xa55nfa1rlm5kio1_400


“Please!” he looked back over his shoulder to plead with her.

“Hurry up!” Kathy ordered. “You know what you have to do, so go ahead and do it!”

Swallowing hard, he continued to hesitate.

“Hurry up and bare yourself!” Kathy insisted. “If I have to do it for you, I’ll spank you a lot harder!”

His face beet red with mortification, Frank slowly hooked his fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down out of the way.

“That’s better!” Kathy told him. “Now lean forward with your chest on the hassock! I want your bare bottom sticking up in back higher then the rest of your body!”

Looking thoroughly shamefaced and quite apprehensive as well, Frank leaned forward until his chest was lowered against the hassock and his bare hips were sticking up fully exposed in back.

“That’s good!” Kathy told him, observing his upthrust buttocks. “Now I hope you don’t mind if I finish my cigarette!”

As Frank moaned with despair, the pretty stewardess took a lazy drag on her cigarette and slowly sipped on her drink. Looking back embarrassedly over his shoulder, he couldn’t help wondering how anyone so petite and feminine and cute could be so demanding and insistent upon humiliating him so much. As he stared at her shapely legs and dainty feet encased in the back stockings and patent leather pumps, he could feel his excitement rising despite his embarrassment.tumblr_m4q36bhkre1rvrx90o1_400

“Please, Kathy, get it over with!” he pleaded with her.

“Just be patient!” she told him, taking another puff on her cigarette and watching him closely. She leisurely took another sip on her drink and then, snuffing out the cigarette, picked up the paddle and got to her feet. Frank tensed visibly as she slowly walked over to him and stood over him, paddle in hand.

“Now I’m going to show you who’s boss and what you can expect from me any time you get out of line!” she told him in a determined tone of voice. “And I want you to show me you can take it too! Keep your hands out of the way no matter what!”

To get a better angle with the paddle, she dropped to one knee behind him and slightly to his left. Gripping the paddle firmly in her right hand, she pressed it lightly against his exposed buttocks. Frank shuddered and gulped heavily as he felt the hard maple paddle pressing against his bare flesh.fm7774

“Now, so we won’t lose track, I want you to count the Before Frank could reply, she drew back the paddle slowly back and forth across his bare bottom. “Don’t forget! And count them nice and loud, too!”

Before Frank could reply, she drew back the paddle and applied it across his bare buttocks with a resounding smack.

“Ow!” Frank yelped with surprise and pain as the paddle made its stinging imprint on his exposed nates.

“That one doesn’t count because you didn’t count it out loud!” Kathy told him, drawing back the paddle. After a long pause, she put the paddle to him again with equal force.

“Ow! One!” Frank exclaimed, remembering to count the stroke aloud despite the added embarrassment it involved. Kathy pressed the paddle firmly to his buttocks for a long moment afterward to allow the full effect of the swat to sink in.

“That’s right!” she told him. “Now count them all out real loud and don’t make any mistakes either!”

Smiling at his obvious mortification, Kathy gave him another noisy smack with the paddle.

“Ouch! Two!” Frank called out, twisting his bottom as the paddle left both cheeks smarting and prickling warmly.tumblr_netodibkci1tgkhzdo1_500

Whack! Kathy applied the paddle expertly across the sensitive lower portions of his hips.

“Oww! Three!” Frank cried out hoarsely. “Please, not so hard!”

Kathy smiled down imperiously at him. “Don’t be a baby!” she told him. “If we girls can take it bare, you can too!”

With that she promptly applied the paddle again, even harder this time. “Ow!” Frank yelped, jerking frantically and forgetting to count the stroke.

“That one doesn’t count!” Kathy told him. “Start over again from two!”

“Please, be reasonable!” Frank pleaded.tumblr_m1gggvldvo1r7jcmio1_1280

Whack! Kathy swung the paddle in a wide arc and brought it expertly across both smarting cheeks of his buttocks.

“Three!” Frank breathlessly called out, twisting his reddening bottom as the paddle made its stinging point.

Slowly and deliberately, the demanding young stewardess began warming up her hapless boyfriend. By the time the count reached ten, Frank’s buttocks were scarlet on both sides and he was squirming frantically with tears in his eyes. Smiling confidently and looking quite poised, Kathy continued to apply the paddle with practiced strokes that landed squarely upon the red and burning target.

“Ouch! Please, stop! Please!” Frank pleaded. “Christ, it hurts! Ouch!”

“Keeping counting!” Kathy demanded. “Real loud! I don’t want to have to keep telling you that!”



“E-eleven!” Frank managed breathlessly. “Come on, please!”

“Louder!” Kathy demanded. “I could hardly hear you!”

“ELEVEN!” Frank called out miserably, feeling thoroughly humiliated.

“That’s better!” Kathy told him. “Now I want to hear you call them all out like that!”

Watching him closely, she applied the next swat with the paddle.

“OW! TWELVE!” Frank called out huskily as the tears began to drip down his cheeks despite his efforts to control himself.

Kathy continued applying the paddle methodically to his red and throbbing bottom, and by the time the count reached fifteen Frank was crying and pleading with her to stop. Each fresh application of the paddle brought a loud shriek and frantic wriggles. Despite his agitation Frank remembered to count all the strokes aloud, although by the time the count reached twenty the words were barely distinguishable through his sobs.

“Please, stop! Please!” Frank pleaded frantically. “Please, I can’t stand any more!”

Deciding that he had had enough, Kathy got to her feet and set the paddle aside. “There, I guess you know who’s boss now!” she told him. “You can put on your clothes now!”

Slowly raising himself from the hassock, Frank replaced his shorts and trousers and slowly got to his feet. To her complete astonishment, Kathy immediately noticed the obvious bulge in the front of his trousers! Unable to conceal his erection, Frank stood there looking thoroughly chagrined and embarrassed. Kathy felt her cheeks turn quite warm and quickly found herself feeling quite intrigued at the idea of her boyfriend reacting in this manner to her discipline. She walked over to him and embraced him warmly. Their lips met in a long, warm kiss and Kathy could feel his masculine tension pressing against her.

Slowly, Kathy allowed her hands to slide down his back until they were cupped around the seat of his trousers. She playfully dug her finger in slightly, making him wince.

“Did I spank my little boy too hard?” she teased, continuing to probe the seat of his trousers with her fingertips.

“You sure did!” Frank admitted.

“Well, it’s obvious that you approved!” she smiled knowingly at him although she couldn’t avoid blushing. Frank nodded.


“I guess that proves that you want to be my slave!” Kathy went on, watching him closely. “Y-yes!” Frank admitted.

“Then, kneel!” Kathy smiled, pointing a pretty finger toward the floor.

Frank gulped and, after a moment’s hesitation, dropped to both knees in front of her. Blushing prettily but looking quite confident, Kathy stepped back a couple of feet and reached for the hem of her dress with both hands. While Frank stared in fascination, she slowly and provocatively pulled her dress and slip up to reveal the tops of her black stockings, bare white thighs and finally a trim pair of white nylon panties. The snugfitting panties were diaphanous and the enticing crop of auburn hair was quite visible beneath them.

Holding her dress and slip up to her waist, she slowly moved closer to him. Without waiting to be told, Frank promptly reached for the waistband of her panties and began pulling them down. He hastily pulled them down her shapely legs and, still holding her skirts aloft, Kathy stepped out of them. As Frank stared at the inviting triangle of hair, Kathy looked down haughtily at him and stood with her legs well apart.

“Well, go ahead, slave!” she told him.

Frank hesitated a moment and then impetuously buried his face in the pretty nest. Kathy trembled as she felt his mouth pressing against the soft lips of her vulva in a warm kiss. She hadn’t really expected him to capitulate so quickly and delightedly caught her breath as she felt his masculine tongue begin to caress her most intimate parts. In a moment, her pretty charms were moist and sticky and Frank was quickly running his tongue up and down her groove while he clasped her soft buttocks in his hands.

“Wait a minute, slave!” she told him, gently pushing him away. While Frank watched, she slipped off her shoes and seated herself on the couch with her skirts still rolled up around her waist. Leaning back on the couch, she drew her knees back until her stocking feet were on the couch and her feminine charms were fully displayed before his eyes.

“Before you go ahead, I want you to take off all your clothes!” she told him with an inviting smile.

Frank hastily removed his clothes as Kathy stared at his stiff, throbbing penis. Without further ado, he quickly dropped to his knees in front of her and once again lowered his face into the warm and moist delta. Kathy uttered a delighted sigh and trembled as his tongue began to explore the sensitive inner regions of her pink groove. Draping her pretty stockinged legs down over his bare back, the shapely young stewardess leaned back to enjoy his oral caresses.

“Keep doing it!” she told him a little breathlessly.

As her fluids soaked his face, Frank continued working his tongue around deep inside her warm cunny. Kathy clasped her hands down over the top of his head, holding his head in place and mashing his face even more closely against her wet charms. She began rocking her pelvis back and forth, and could hear the slurping sounds as her feminine juices flowed with even greater frequency.

“There! Keep doing it just like that! Yes, that’s right! Just like that!” she demanded.

By this time she was thrusting her hips back and forth against him, while at the same time holding his face pressed firmly against her. Sucking and nibbling between the lips of her vulva Frank caressed her clitoris and vaginal orifice. Although he was nearly out of breath himself, he made no effort to pull away from her slippery charms.

“Ooooooh! Ooooooh!” Kathy gasped delightedly as his servile caresses left her wriggling and pumping with delight. Finally, she uttered an ecstatic sigh and reached a quivering orgasm, holding his face pressed tightly to her until the spasms began to subside.

“That was quite good, slave!” she told him afterward. “I think you’ve earned a reward!”

As Kathy stretched out on her back with her skirts still at her waist, Frank lost no time mounting her supine form. Kathy quickly grasped his hard, throbbing member and guided it between the soft, yielding lips of her vulva. Frank thrust forward, filling her warm vaginal walls with his sturdy penis. Kathy suddenly clasped her hands around his still burning buttocks, scraping him with her fingernails and making him wince. Spurred on by Kathy’s long fingernails scraping against his tender buttocks, Frank pumped furiously and it wasn’t long until both reached a breathless climax.

“I can see I’m going to have to use that paddle on you a lot more in the future!” Kathy told him afterward with a knowing smile.

Spanking Stewardesses — Part 1

Yes, they used to be called stewardesses, back in the day. Now, of course, they are “flight attendants” and no longer exclusively female. But in the swingin’ sixties there was this erotic undertone to the occupation. Sort of a Mad Men vibe. Stewardesses, who were almost uniformly attractive, were rumored to be adventurous when it came to amorous hook-ups. They wore high heels, short tight skirts and blouses and had those little pill box hats. The standard fantasy was that a good looking passenger could score a date on a layover and get lucky. I recall one airline out of California, Pacific Southwest, actually had their “stews” (yes, they were called that) wear boots and pink hot pants. Continental ran an ad that said “We move our tails for you.” Is there any wonder then, that in this Mad Men-like atmosphere the old master, Will Henry, would write them into an erotic spanking novel? He did and this one is a tour-de-force of mixed spanking and sex scenes.

This book runs the gamut on erotic spanking. We have M/F, F/F and F/M. Over the next several months I’m going to post several excerpts because it is classic pulp fiction. Here is the first part to get us started. Six women share an apartment. How do they maintain order and discipline? Let’s peek in and see.  spastewbig



The early evening flight from Miami to New York City was exactly on time, and the lights of the city were clearly visible as the big jet went into its landing pattern. “This is one time I wish we were late!” stewardess Connie Davis remarked to her fellow stewardess and roommate, Sharon Clark.

Sharon nodded sympathetically. “Sometimes I wish we’d taken an apartment by ourselves,” she replied.

“Well, it’s our own fault for agreeing to go along with that system anyway!” Connie said. At twenty-three, Connie was a pretty petite blonde of 5’3” with an attractive figure and vivacious personality, she had finished two years of college and had worked at various jobs before deciding to become a stewardess.

“You mean it’s our own fault for oversleeping,” Sharon corrected her. “If we’d gotten up on time, we would have had plenty of time to straighten up the apartment before catching our flight!” A tall, striking brunette who stood 5’9” in her stocking feet and barely came within the airline’s height regulations, Sharon was also twenty-three and had likewise finished two years of college.

The two girls were referring to the system used by them and their four roommates to maintain order in the large apartment they all shared on the East side of Manhattan. The other four young women were Eleanor Scott, a tall, brunette 29-year-old high school teacher; Jackie Parker, a redheaded 27-year-old secretary; Kathy Blake, a cute stewardess with another airline; and Debbie Richards, a pert honey blonde of nineteen who worked as a salesgirl.

When the six young women had begun boarding together about six months ago, the conditions in the apartment soon became chaotic. No one did any chores and everyone constantly got in each other’s way, constantly borrowing each other’s clothes and forgetting such courtesies as relaying phone messages. A couple of the girls monopolized the telephone and several would spend hours in the bathroom while others were waiting. Even worse, there was open competition for any date who happened to call at the apartment, and several girls always made a point of being seen in their shortest skirts whenever another girl’s date was seated in the living room. There were also a number of minor grievances.

After several violent arguments, the girls had finally gotten together and held a council of war. They drew up an extremely detailed code of conduct for all the girls to abide by, which included a system of dividing up the chores between the six of them. Several methods of enforcing the rules were discussed, and after heated discussion it was agreed that there was only one guaranteed way to enforce the rules: spanking.

The idea of punishing offenders by spanking had originally been suggested by Kathy. The pretty auburn haired stewardess admitted that her parents had kept her in line with old fashioned spanking throughout her teenage years, and remarked that a hot bare bottom spanking was the one sure way to make a girl think twice. When a couple of the girls expressed surprise at the idea of spanking a teenage girl, Kathy candidly described her parent’s methods. Even when she was a well developed young lady of eighteen, her parents never hesitated to escort her to the master bedroom for a workout with the hairbrush.


In the bedroom her father would sit on the side of the bed and take her face down over his lap. Her mother would then raise her skirt and slip to the waist in back, unhook her stockings and would then lower her girdle and panties. After a brief lecture which she had to endure with her bare bottom on display, her father would take an old fashioned wooden hairbrush and proceed to set her buttocks aflame. Kathy readily admitted that she had never been able to take one of those hairbrush spankings without crying and kicking her legs.

Kathy’s suggestion was quickly adopted by Jackie and Debbie. Although she had had no prior experience, Jackie had read a number of accounts in various romance magazines about young women who shared apartments and employed paddlings to keep one another in line. From their accounts, the attractive secretary had concluded that such a system was both sophisticated and effective. For her part, Debbie had been paddled severely several times going through high school initiations, and assured her roommates that the mere threat of being paddled would be enough to make her follow the apartment rules to the letter.

Although neither had had any prior experience and both were quite skeptical, Connie and Sharon had voted to go alone with the other three mainly because they couldn’t think of any effective alternative. As it turned out, the only one who voted against spanking was Eleanor, who at twenty-nine was the oldest of the group and who felt that paddling was rather undignified for young women of their age. However, Eleanor assured the others that she had no intention of being a poor sport about it, and agreed that she would go along with their new system at least on a trial basis.

“Well, it may be our fault for oversleeping,” Connie replied as the plane gilded down the runway. “But it’s also our fault for agreeing that all spankings should be on the bare!”

“Don’t even mention that!” Sharon replied, gulping heavily.

Once the six roommates had agreed that spanking was to be the method of discipline, a violent disagreement had broken out. Everyone had quickly agreed that a couple of decorative red maple paddles the girls owned were the appropriate instruments for correction. However, the two older girls, Eleanor and Jackie, had vehemently insisted that all offenders should be permitted to retain at least their panties during the workouts. On the other hand, Kathy and Debbie had insisted that bare bottom paddling was the only way to get results. After considerable discussion, Connie and Sharon had sided with the two younger girls and bare bottom paddling was established by a 4-2 vote.

“Well, here we are!” Connie remarked with a note of finality as the plane polled up to the terminal.

The two pretty stewardesses stepped up to their stations as the passengers began to disembark. Both girls tried to smile and be pleasant, but both found it considerably difficult. When tie last passenger had departed from the plane, the girls went inside to check their mail slots for future flight instructions. To their relief, both found that they weren’t scheduled to fly again for several days.

“Why don’t we stop for a drink even if we are still wearing our uniforms?” Connie suggested as they left the terminal.

“Definitely!” Sharon agreed. The longlegged brunette already looked slightly pale and apprehensive at the prospect of meeting her roommates. From what had happened in the past, she was quite sure that their four roommates would be waiting for them with paddles in hand the minute they walked in the door.

A few minutes later the two young women were seated in a quiet lounge. Business was slack and they attracted little attention from the customers at the bar. Although both normally drank only sparingly, this time each ordered a dry martini.

“I really dread this!” Connie shook her blonde head, taking a deep puff on her cigarette.

“It had to happen sooner or later,” Sharon replied. “After all, we’re the only two who have missed it so far.”

“Yes, let’s see, it was Eleanor of all people who got it first!” Connie recalled.

Both vividly remembered that first paddling session. Although she had originally opposed the disciplinary session and had been careful to abide by all the rules they had established, Eleanor had overlooked doing her share of the chores and thereby became the first victim of the new system. Sentenced to fifteen swats by her roommates, the tall brunette blushed furiously and blinked back tears of shame as she hoisted her skirts, lowered her girdle and panties and bent over the back of a chair with her plump wide hips sticking up vulnerably.

Gathering around their hapless victim with bemused smiles, the five girls divided the fifteen swats evenly between them. Eleanor shrieked with each splat of the hard maple paddle against her tender buttocks and, as her bottom turned a fiery red on both cheeks, was soon tearfully pleading with the girls to take it easy on her. Everyone ignored her pleas, however, and all fifteen swats were applied with resounding effect. Before it was over the long-legged schoolteacher was sobbing heavily, squirming her scarlet hips furiously and stamping her high heels miserably on the floor. Afterwards, she had been red-eyed and quite miserable for some time and, although she proved a good sport about it, had warned the others that they wouldn’t think it so amusing when their turn came.

“That’s right,” Sharon replied. “Then, the following week, Jackie and Kathy both got it at the same time!”

The two girls had been convicted of repeatedly flirting with fellows who had dates with their roommates. Pretty redheaded Jackie had quite shapely legs, and always made certain that fellows who called at the apartment were made fully aware of her charms. On several occasions she had been detected sitting in the living room wearing an extremely short skirt and seated with her legs carelessly crossed to reveal stocking tops and a glimpse of white thigh. Kathy had also committed the same offense.

As a result, two chairs had been placed side by side in the living room and the two attractive young women had been compelled to bend over the back of them—skirts up and panties at half-mast. Each received twenty swats with the paddle. Jackie squealed with each application of the paddle to her rotund posterior, and several times had to be forcefully warned not to reach back to protect her reddening bottom. She was in tears long before the session came to a halt, and was bawling and sagging weakly over the back of the chair when the final swat was administered.

With her home background in corporal punishment, Kathy did her best to show the others that she could take it. However, as the paddles set her buxom posterior aflame, the shapely young stewardess soon lost her self-control and began squealing and squirming as much as her companion in distress. Before long she was gasping and sobbing and pleading to be spared. By the time the final whack descended against her flaming and blistering bottom, Kathy was sobbing just as heavily as Jackie and girls and bare bottom paddling was established by a 4-2 vote.

“Well, here we are!” Connie remarked with a note of finality as the plane palled up to the terminal.

Hie two pretty stewardesses stepped up to their stations as the passengers began to disembark. Both girls tried to smile and be pleasant, but both found it considerably difficult. When tie last passenger had departed from the plane, the girls went inside to check their mail slots for future flight instructions. To their relief, both found that they weren’t scheduled to fly again for several days.

“Why don’t we stop for a drink even if we are still wearing our uniforms?” Connie suggested as they left the terminal.

“Definitely!” Sharon agreed. The longlegged brunette already looked slightly pale and apprehensive at the prospect of meeting her roommates. From what had happened in the past, she was quite sure that their four roommates would be waiting for them with paddles in hand the minute they walked in the door.

A few minutes later the two young women were seated in a quiet lounge. Business was slack and they attracted little attention from the customers at the bar. Although both normally drank only sparingly, this time each ordered a dry martini.

“I really dread this!” Connie shook her blonde head, taking a deep puff on her cigarette.

“It had to happen sooner or later,” Sharon replied. “After all, we’re the only two who have missed it so far.”

“Yes, let’s see, it was Eleanor of all people who got it first!” Connie recalled.

Both vividly remembered that first paddling session. Although she had originally opposed the disciplinary session and had been careful to abide by all the rules they had established, Eleanor had overlooked doing her share of the chores and thereby became the first victim of the new system. Sentenced to fifteen swats by her roommates, the tall brunette blushed furiously and blinked back tears of shame as she hoisted her skirts, lowered her girdle and panties and bent over the back of a chair with her plump wide hips sticking up vulnerably.

Gathering around their hapless victim with bemused smiles, the five girls divided the fifteen swats evenly between them. Eleanor shrieked with each splat of the hard maple paddle against her tender buttocks and, as her bottom turned a fiery red on both cheeks, was soon tearfully pleading with the girls to take it easy on her. Everyone ignored her pleas, however, and all fifteen swats were applied with resounding effect. Before it was over the long-legged schoolteacher was sobbing heavily, squirming her scarlet hips furiously and stamping her high heels miserably on the floor. Afterwards, she had been red-eyed and quite miserable for some time and, although she proved a good sport about it, had warned the others that they wouldn’t think it so amusing when their turn came.

“That’s right,” Sharon replied. “Then, the following week, Jackie and Kathy both got it at the same time!”

The two girls had been convicted of repeatedly flirting with fellows who had dates with their roommates. Pretty redheaded Jackie had quite shapely legs, and always made certain that fellows who called at the apartment were made fully aware of her charms. On several occasions she had been detected sitting in the living room wearing an extremely short skirt and seated with her legs carelessly crossed to reveal stocking tops and a glimpse of white thigh. Kathy had also committed the same offense.

As a result, two chairs had been placed side by side in the living room and the two attractive young women had been compelled to bend over the back of them—skirts up and panties at half-mast. Each received twenty swats with the paddle. Jackie squealed with each application of the paddle to her rotund posterior, and several times had to be forcefully warned not to reach back to protect her reddening bottom. She was in tears long before the session came to a halt, and was bawling and sagging weakly over the back of the chair when the final swat was administered.

With her home background in corporal punishment, Kathy did her best to show the others that she could take it. However, as the paddles set her buxom posterior aflame, the shapely young stewardess soon lost her self-control and began squealing and squirming as much as her companion in distress. Before long she was gasping and sobbing and pleading to be spared. By the time the final whack descended against her flaming and blistering bottom, Kathy was sobbing just as heavily as Jackie and the two of them made an unforgettable picture with their scarlet buttocks draped over the backs of the two chairs.

“And after that, it was Debbie’s turn!” Connie continued reminiscing as they sipped their drinks.

Debbie had tried her best to comply with the rules they had established, but she couldn’t shake her habit of borrowing other girls’ clothes without permission. As a result, the shapely nineteen-year-old had been sentenced to fifteen swats with the paddle. Crying softly but making no protest, the pretty honey blonde reluctantly dropped her trim slacks and panties to her ankles and anxiously bent over the chair as directed. As the paddles set her cute bottom afire, the pretty teenager howled with pain and wriggled girlishly. When she replaced her panties and slacks afterwards, she was sobbing and looked thoroughly distraught.

“And now it’s our turn!” Sharon remarked with a catch in her voice.

The two pretty stewardesses paid their bill and anxiously headed for their apartment. The drinks had done little to fortify them, and both of them felt quite weak in the knees.


As Connie and Sharon had expected, their four roommates were waiting for them the minute they walked in the door. Both swallowed hard and paled slightly when they saw the two plain wooden chairs placed side by side in the center of the room. As usual on such occasions, the lights in the apartment were all turned on brightly.

“Come in, girls!” Eleanor told them with a trace of sarcasm in her voice. Holding one of the paddles in her hand, the tall brunette schoolteacher was seated in an easy chair with her shapely legs crossed. Wearing a navy blue business suit, she looked quite severe with her horn-rimmed glasses and tightly done up hair.

Seated on a hassock at one side of the room, Debbie was holding the other paddle in her hand and smacking it lightly against her open palm. The pert teenager was wearing a short white mini-dress that barely covered her hips, together with black pantyhose. She gave the two newcomers a knowing smile that made it ever so plain that she could hardly wait to put them through their paces. Neither had to be told how humiliating it would be to have to submit to discipline from the saucy teenager.

Jackie and Kathy were seated beside one another on the couch with their nyloned legs crossed prettily. Both smiled and made no effort to conceal their amusement as Sharon and Connie apprehensively closed the door and walked into the room. It had been Sharon and Connie’s complaints about their flirtatious tactics that had led to Jackie and Kathy’s paddling session, and the latter two young women could hardly wait to gain some revenge.

“Let us explain, girls…” Connie anxiously began only to be drowned about by laughter.

“We’ve been waiting three days for you two!” Eleanor told them. “You couldn’t possibly have left this place in a bigger mess!”

“We were late for our flight!” Sharon tried to explain.

“Clothes all over the floor!” Eleanor went on, ignoring the interruption. “Beds not made. A ring in the bathtub. Hair spray and other things out in the bathroom. Dirty coffee cups in the kitchen. You even took a pair of my hose.”

“No, I couldn’t!” Sharon started to protest but stopped short. She had been in such a hurry that anything was possible.

“It’s time you two took your medicine!” Debbie remarked, continuing to smack the paddle ominously against the palm of her hand.

“The four of us have talked it over,” Eleanor continued. “You are to each receive twenty swats!”

“Twenty!” the two girls burst out simultaneously. Neither had really expected that many.

“Oh, please, be reasonable!” Sharon pleaded. “We didn’t do it on our purpose! We would have straightened up everything, but we just didn’t have time!”

“Please!” Connie echoed her companion. “We overslept and we just didn’t have time!”

Kathy and Jackie smiled and tittered at the girls’ distress, and even Eleanor looked momentarily amused.

“The sentence is to be carried out immediately!” Eleanor told them. “So get ready and make it snappy!”

“Please, let us at least take our uniforms off!” Sharon pleaded, trying to stall the inevitable.

“No, no!” Eleanor told them. “We’ve already been waiting long enough! Now hurry up or we’ll add some penalty swats!”

The two young women looked haplessly at the other girls, hoping to find someone who might be the least bit sympathetic. But the others merely smiled knowingly at them and made it obvious that they were up against a united front.

“Hurry up!” Eleanor warned again.

With a resigned sigh, Sharon capitulated and reached down to roll up her green uniform skirt. As the others watched, she rolled the skirt up to reveal long, shapely legs and the tops of her dark brown stockings. Following Sharon’s example, Connie blushingly reached down with both hands and began rolling up her skirt, revealing pretty legs outlined in sheer beige hose.

“Roll them up nice and tight!” Jackie instructed them with a knowing wink at Kathy. Both of them could well recall how Connie and Sharon had insisted on their rolling their skirts up tightly when they had been punished.

“Clear to the waist!” Kathy added, refusing to give her fellow stewardesses a break.

Looking quite shamefaced, Sharon continued rolling her skirt up to reveal a gap of sleek white thigh and a snugfitting girdle of Lycra spandex. At the same time, Connie rolled her uniform skirt up to reveal pretty nyloned thighs and a formfitting white pantie girdle. As the other girls snickered and looked thoroughly delighted, the two pretty stewardesses blushed deeply as they stood there with their skirts rolled up in that ridiculous fashion.

“Unhook your hose!” Eleanor instructed. “But don’t let your skirts down!”

Pressing their arms against their sides to hold their rolled up skirts in position, the two hapless young women leaned forward to unfasten their nylons. As the others watched with obvious amusement, they managed to unsnap their supporters and allowed their stockings to sag limply down their bare white legs.

“Girdles next!” Eleanor instructed.

With a hapless moan, Sharon yanked down her girdle with one quick motion, bringing her panties down along with it. The tuft of dark brown hair at the fork of her legs was visible for a moment before she hastily lowered her skirt in front to cover herself. At the same time, Connie reluctantly lowered her pantie girdle to the knees, likewise displaying her girlish charms for a brief moment before lowering her skirt in front. Both girls were scarlet with embarrassment and tears of shame were welling in their eyes.

“Over the chairs!” Debbie called out.

“Please!” Connie broke in, her lip trembling.

“Come on!” Eleanor spoke up, getting to her feet and pointing toward the chairs with her paddle.

Haplessly, the two young women reluctantly bent over the backs of the two chairs with their skirts up in back and their bare bottoms jutting out horribly exposed in back. Grinning expectantly, the other girls stood up to inspect the quivering targets. Although they had seen the others positioned in this manner, the full humiliation of having to turn oneself up completely bare for a paddling did not strike the two comely stewardesses until they felt the other girl’s eyes on their plump, rounded bare bottoms. Their knees buckling slightly under them, both girls blinked back tears of shame and instinctively held their pretty legs pressed tightly together.


Holding their paddles, Eleanor and Debbie moved into position behind the two victims while Jackie and Kathy watched closely. Standing behind and to the left of Sharon, Eleanor pressed the paddle lightly against the latter’s tender bottom. Standing in the same position behind Connie, Debbie rubbed the paddle lightly against Connie’s softly rounded bottom. The pretty blonde shriveled apprehensively.

“Tighten up!” Debbie commanded sweetly.

Connie wriggled with shame as she complied with the humiliating order.

“You too, Sharon!” Eleanor called out.

Moaning with mortification, Sharon haplessly tightened the muscles in her pretty bottom as she anxiously awaited the paddle. Debbie and Eleanor drew the paddles back, paused for a moment while the two pretty victims tensed with fear and anticipation, and then brought the paddles down against the exposed targets. WHACK!

“OW!” Connie and Sharon shrieked in unison, jerking their heads back and involuntarily bending their knees as the paddles smacked noisily against their tender bottoms. As the paddles were drawn back, all four bottom cheeks appeared slightly pink.

Pausing for a long moment to let the full effect of each smack set in, Debbie and Eleanor applied the second swat to the girls’ upturned bottoms.


“Ow, please!” Sharon shrieked. The paddle stung considerably more than she had expected, and she was already beginning to wonder how she could possibly stand twenty swats on the bare. Without thinking about what she was doing, she automatically reached back with her hands to protect herself.

“Take your hands away!” Eleanor demanded. “And stay in position until we’re through with you!”

“Please, it hurts!” Sharon pleaded, her eyes filled with tears as she settled back into position.

After another significant pause, Debbie and Eleanor applied the third whack to the girls’ reddening bottoms.

“Ow! Oooh, please!” Connie cried out, twisting her pert bottom furiously as the paddle stung across both cheeks. Although the paddle smarted and prickled something awful, the humiliation of being put through her paces by a saucy teenager was even worse as far as Connie was concerned.

“Stay in place!” Debbie bossily demanded, carefully taking aim with the paddle once again.

As the fourth whack descended against their smarting bottoms, both young women broke down in tears.

“Please, not so hard!” Sharon pleaded with a note of desperation in her voice.

“Ouch! It hurts!” Connie protested, her voice catching.


By the time Debbie and Eleanor applied the fifth smack, both girls’ bottoms were fire red on each side and they were both crying and gasping for breath. As they tearfully remained in position over the chairs with their red bottoms jackknifed upward, the paddles were turned over to Jackie and Kathy. Jackie stepped up behind Sharon while Kathy got into position behind Connie.

“Please—not very hard!” Connie turned her tearstained face back to plead with Kathy. “I’m already burning up!”

“Take it easy, please!” Sharon breathlessly pleaded with Jackie. “Please, Jackie!”

Ignoring the girls’ pleas, Jackie and Kathy got a good grip on their paddles and took careful aim at the rosy targets. WHACK!

“OWWWW!” Sharon and Connie squealed as the paddles smacked crisply against their red and burning bottoms. Both twisted frantically and tried to stamp their feet, but their lowered girdles got in their way. Knowing what the girls were going through, the other four young women grinned knowingly as the two pretty young stewardesses got their first taste of their apartment discipline.

“Make them hot, girls!” Debbie urged.


Taking plenty of time about it to make it all the worse for the two crying victims, Jackie and Kathy applied another noisy smack to the scarlet targets. Connie and Sharon shrieked and jerked their heads back. By this time neither could resist the temptation to put her hands behind her to protect herself.

“Get your hands down, both of you!” Jackie insisted, poking at Sharon’s hands with the paddle.

“Oh, please, not so hard!” Sharon tearfully begged, removing her hands with the greatest reluctance.

“Please, take it easy!” Connie begged, once again turning her tearstained face back to plead with Kathy as she reluctantly withdrew her hands from her smarting bottom.

WHACK! Jackie and Kathy applied the next swats even harder to get their point across. Squealing with distress, the two girls twisted their fiery bottoms frantically while Eleanor and Debbie watched with knowing smiles. When Jackie and Kathy finished applying five swats to their respective victims, Connie and Sharon were sobbing heavily and sagging over the backs of the chairs with their bottoms a flaming scarlet on both cheeks. Both were certain that they couldn’t possibly stand any more and tearfully pleaded to be spared.

“Pleeeeeese, stop! Pleeeeeese! I can’t stand it!” Sharon breathlessly pleaded between sobs.

“No more, please!” Connie likewise pleaded. “I can’t take any more! Please. Oh, please, I’m simply burning up!”

The paddles were handed back to Eleanor and Debbie. This time Eleanor stationed herself behind Connie, while Debbie got into position behind Sharon.

“Tighten those buns, honey!” Debbie instructed in an amused voice.

Sharon’s long legs nearly buckled her at the humiliating command from the bossy teenager. Feeling everyone’s eyes on her red bottom, she felt deep mortification as she haplessly complied with the embarrassing order. “Please! Please!” she tried to protest but gave way to fresh sobs.


“Eeekk!” Connie and Sharon both emitted a high-pitched shriek as the paddles once again smacked against their throbbing and burning bottoms.

“Pleeeeeese! Oh, pleeeseee!” Connie pleaded desperately, her pretty legs sagging weakly under her.

Slowly and methodically, Eleanor and Debbie applied four additional swats to the girls’ upturned bottoms. Each fresh application produced a pained shriek and furious wriggles, and the two pretty stewardesses sobbed and pleaded throughout. After fifteen swats from the hard maple paddles, the two young women’s attractive buttocks were a flaming red all over and beginning to swell just a little. It was readily apparent that neither would be able to sit comfortably for several days.

“Please, stop! Please!” they both pleaded in unison as once again the paddles were handed back to Jackie and Kathy. This time it was Kathy’s turn to paddle Sharon, while Jackie stationed herself behind Connie’s flaming bottom.

WHACK! WHACK! Kathy and Jackie began applying the final five swats to the girls’ throbbing and aching bottoms.

“OUCH! Oh, please! OW! I can’t stand it! OH! OUCH! OH, God, please stop! Oooh!” Sharon shrieked hoarsely as Kathy’s paddle smacked resoundingly against her burning bottom.

“OOHHH! OUCH! OH! Pleeeeeeeeeese Pleeeeeese! OW! OWWW! OUCH! Stop! please!” Connie howled and yelped between sobs as Jackie put the paddle to her smarting nates with expert wrist-snapping motions.

At last the ordeal came to an end. Sobbing and nearly in hysterics, Connie and Sharon hastily stepped out of their underthings and retreated to the bathroom. Quickly peeling off their clothes, the two crying girls began splashing cold water upon their burning and blistered buttocks. It was quite awhile before either noticed any relief, and both could tell that it was going to be quite some time before they recovered from their first workouts with the paddle. Both were still sniffling and red-eyed from crying when they emerged from the bathroom some thirty minutes later with their throbbing bottoms thoroughly covered with cold cream.