Writing the Spanking Scene Part 12–"Elaine Cox" by Richard Manton

I would be remiss if I did not include in my survey of spanking erotica writers one Richard Manton. In the 1980’s Manton wrote for the publisher Blue Moon Books who seemed to have inherited the mantle of “porn you can get in legitimate bookstores” that had previously been the province of Olympia Press. Manton wrote as a devoutly fevered flagellant, waxing eloquent on the subject of ladies’ backsides and the punishments inflicted upon them by less than reputable characters. There is no sweet romance here. Oh, no. this is punishment, usually reformatory style. In fact there is little spanking in Manton’s books. Instead he dwells at length on the detailed depictions of harsh canings, strappings and whippings.

The drawings are courtesy of the great Paula Russell.

Elaine Cox is typical. (In fact if you’ve read one Manton book, you’ve read them all.) He even repeats the use of names in several books. Elaine Cox seems to be a favorite as does a girl in the old South named Miss Jolly.

Here he sets the stage for Elaine’s punishment:

“Come over here, Elaine Cox!”

She walked and stood by my chair. I shifted the chair back a couple of feet without standing up and gestured towards the kneehole centre of the desk.

“Stand facing the desk, Elaine. Right up against it. Good. Now bend right forward across the top of it. You needn’t be shy about bending over and showing me a big-bottomed view in your tight briefs. Your big sister had to lie over the director’s desk like this last Saturday before she was birched.”

Elaine shook her hair back as she stood against the desk, looking round at me with the hard line of her mouth and the narrowed eyes with their fleck of green. Then she turned away and went forward, first on her elbows and forearms, then bending right over so that she lay flat over the surface of the desk with her arms down the far side.

I drew the chair up close behind her, my heart pounding as if it would burst. My erection was already so uncomfortable in the tightness of my pants that I longed to pull the zip down and release it. Elaine was lying over the desk with her head on one side, as if trying to look back towards me. The blouse ended at the back of her waist. The white stretch-briefs of her plain uniform knickers now moulded the full cheek-swell of Elaine Cox’s bottom. The seat of her knickers was a sight that she had sometimes offered briefly when the wind caught her little skirt as she was walking up the hill to the house where she lived. I had seen it once or twice when I had been following her. I confess that the memory of those brief glimpses had stiffened me many times afterwards. Now I was able to enjoy the view at leisure.

Elaine Cox had long since grown beyond the stage of being an innocent child. She knew from the start that my present examination was complete hypocrisy and that I was enjoying myself with her. We both understood that, though it was not mentioned and I kept up the pretence of making a stem official inspection of her. As I studied the rear view she now offered me, her underpants not only presented her behind most suggestively but also allowed me to see the slight bulge of pubic flesh in the tight cotton between her thighs.

Should I make Elaine Cox take down her stretch-cotton knickers—or should I do it for her? I guessed it would be more exciting to watch her do it herself.

“Pull your knickers down, Elaine Cox. Don’t straighten up. Just reach back and pull them down your legs as far as you can.”

She twisted her face to me a little more, her expression suggesting that it was beneath her contempt to argue with me. She reached her hands back at either side of her hips, took the elastic waistband of her tight-fitting briefs, and pulled the band down until the knickers hung in an untidy tangle round her knees. Then she stretched her arms forward again.

The way in which Elaine Cox’s knickers were tangled round her knees gave her an exciting look of childish slovenliness. But just then my attention was held by the other sights she presented. I daresay several lads of her own age had already glimpsed the light-haired folds of her sex, which I now saw between the rear of her thighs’ sturdy pallor. No doubt she had given some favoured lad a glimpse, her pants down and skirt up, behind a shed in the grounds during a break between lessons. Or else some youthful voyeur had clambered up to peep down at her from the high window of the girls’ toilets. But the effect on me was no less potent. Moreover the full pale swell of Elaine Cox’s tomboy bottom-cheeks called for examination at once. That morning her sturdy young backside had pressed warmly on the seat of a classroom chair, in a row of other fifth-form girls. Now it was to spend the entire afternoon over my desk, exposed to the cool air.

“I’ll want a good look at your young backside, Elaine Cox,” I said quietly, my pulse still racing. “That’s what you’re here for.”

That’s what she’s here for, all right. The next excerpt is the punishment scene, which I have edited down a bit. Manton does go on and on.

ELAINE COX’S PUNISHMENT-LESSON

That evening we received a visit from our patrons, several of them justices. It was a matter of courtesy that I should attend dinner with them and then accompany them to see the punishments inflicted. A sensible man does not spurn such wealthy and influential friends. Mr. Hardman, who had found me my present employment, was not there but I owed a duty to his colleagues. In any case, I was naturally curious and rather excited at the prospect of seeing for the first time, these bare-bottomed canings or whippings inflicted on the reformatory girls. There were several girls who had lately joined the fourth and fifth forms. I could not help my satisfaction that some of them would be under discipline that night.

The room in which the overseer thrashed the girls on these occasions was a cavernous place of some size. It was prudently located out of sight and earshot of the main buildings.

The interior was lit by gas, flaring harshly on whitewashed walls. The windows were narrow, set very high up and closely barred. The paving of the floor was flagstones. The old-fashioned birching-block, slightly raised on a wooden surround, was securely bolted down at the room’s centre. There was also a tall stool and a step-ladder, each equipped to hold a wayward nymph bending over it. To one side stood a whipping-horse. This resembled a padded leather-vaulting-buck. There was also a padded trestle. This was long enough to take two culprits at the same time, one bending over each end, their heads close together at the centre. It was often used when two girls were chastised together to cure them of their unnatural passion for one another.

On a narrow mahogany table lay an assortment of spanking-straps, birch-rods, canes, and whips of every sort. Among these, stood a bottle of pungent smelling-salts. If the head of a petite young wife like Jacqueline Grant or a pretty little beginner like Jane Mitchener should droop during punishment, one of the overseer’s assistants would hold the pungent aroma under her nose. By this means the culprit might be speedily restored and her punishment would continue with little interruption. A randy young wriggler like Jackie Grant will be taken far beyond the ordinary limits of a judicial whipping by such means. Jane Mitchener and the other pert young pupils would have their bare bottom-cheeks skinned to an extent which might otherwise be questioned even in the case of a sexually mature young woman.

Such are the possibilities which the system offers, through its provisions for curbing young wantons.

Several cushioned chairs had been set out a couple of yards to the rear of the block for the portly guests. Their bill of fare was to be varied and exciting that evening. It ranged from pretty Jane Mitchener with her dark-haired fringe and teasing playfulness to auburn-cropped Jacqueline who was some ten years her elder and had tasted the pleasures of the bridal couch!

The punishments started at nine in the evening and would last all night, if that should prove necessary to complete them. A girl who had committed two offences would be thrashed twice during these hours. If she had committed three, she would be dealt with thrice. At each appearance she was treated as severely as the first time. If the cheeks of her bottom were smarting dreadfully, even before her second punishment began, that was her fault for having misbehaved twice.

None of the justices favoured leniency, even when the discipline was to be of repeated severity. They took their places and looked down the pages of the Punishment Register, which listed the names and misdeeds of the girls to be thrashed. I have a copy of it before me as I write.

The overseer was a burly dark-haired man of almost fifty, rather bald. He had disciplined his first girls so long ago that he had since seen the bottoms of their daughters and even grand-daughters, too. He removed his black jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Choosing a bamboo cane that was wickedly long and supple, he went to the far door and called in a stentorian voice.

“Elaine Cox!”

Elaine entered, a matron holding her by either arm. She had been consigned to the reformatory for five more years by some of the middle-aged worthies who watched her now.

Even to those who saw her for the first time, she appeared much as they expected. She still looked a ruffianly youngster, defiantly tossing back the lank fair hair which was combed from its central parting to lie loose upon her shoulders. The broad oval of her face, with its slum-child’s features of narrowed eyes and thin mouth, was once again a portrait of snub-nosed insolence. She was dressed in her usual white uniform blouse and striped tie, her grey pleated skirt again worn brazenly short, as if to flaunt the pallor of her robust young thighs and to suggest the sturdiness of her adolescent hips. Though she had seen the last of her customary school, its regulation uniform was the costume that she was still made to wear.

She stood before the justices, her contempt for them clearly shown in the tight wilful mouth, the narrowed slant of dark eyes with their fleck of green.

“Remove your skirt for your lesson, Elaine Cox!” the first matron said sharply.

With a look of contempt, the youngster undid the short pleated skirt, let it fall, and stepped out of it. Without waiting for the next command, she turned her back on the magistrates and knelt down over the block. Elaine Cox’s white stretch-briefs drew the eager gaze of the justices. She knelt on all fours over the block, still craning round with snub-nosed defiance. Her full-cheeked backside was broadened and even fattened by her posture. In her stretch-cotton underpants, Elaine appeared quite a big-bottomed girl for her age.

The overseer strapped her wrists to rings in the forward corners of the block. He pinioned her bare pale thighs with another strap just above her knees. Next he secured her ankles to prevent Elaine kicking out during punishment. Finally, he tightened a wide leather restraining-belt round her waist, pressing her young belly down hard on the block. This hollowing down of her waist caused Elaine Cox’s fifteen-year-old bottom to swell fuller and broader for the bamboo cane. Its shape would almost have done credit to her big sister Pauline.

It was to be expected that the pulse of each justice quickened and each magisterial totem stirred with excitement. I regretted I had not witnessed the girls’ earlier spankings. If rumour is to be believed, one lucky teacher first used the birch on the bare pale cheeks of Elaine Cox’s bottom, when she was still walking to school in white knee-socks. Though it was now in the past, I hoped that he had used extreme severity on her then with the birch-rod switches, not sparing her bare arse, the rear of her thighs or even the backs of her young knees.

Now the overseer took the elastic waistband of Elaine Cox’s schoolgirl knickers and stripped them down to her knees. He did this slowly and with much fingering as a foretaste of the punishment-lesson in store for her. Being a lusty man and fond of a good feel, he greatly enjoyed himself with a tomboy like Elaine. It would be absurd to begrudge him this amusement. A score of boys of her own age had long ago had their hand inside Elaine’s knickers at rowdy parties or behind a convenient wall after school.

While Elaine was having her knickers taken down, the cotton caught a little under her legs and between her buttocks. She had been wearing them for several hours and no doubt her warmth and humidity caused them to twist and catch somewhat. Even a teacher who was going to thrash her could not have resisted the pretext which this offered him. Nor did the overseer. In order to free the cotton briefs, his fingers pried between her legs and in her feminine slit. How she gasped and cursed! His hands wandered over her smoothly pale thighs and buttocks. Then his fingers played lewdly between the full pale cheeks of Elaine Cox’s bottom!

Furious at this, the youngster tossed back her lank fair hair and craned round at him with a shout of anger.

“You dirty filthy thing!” she yelled. Slum-girl though she was, Elaine was the first to protest in this way against any threat to the “purity” of herself or her sisters. The chairman of the justices smiled at the absurdity.

“You’re a dirty little scrubber, Elaine Cox!” he chortled. “Next week I’ll visit you myself and punish your insolence. I’ll give you thirty strokes with the prison birch across the bare cheeks of that fat young arse to cure you of impudence. And I’ll have your big sister over the study sofa at the same time. I always punish a pair of sisters for the offence of either. You’ll both remember your lesson all the better for watching each other get it!”

My neighbour whispered to me that Elaine’s big sister, Pauline, a plump slut of eighteen, had had the whip cross her fat bottom last month. One of the justices had done it to her privately. He had put the girl arse-upwards over the study sofa and skinned her fat bum-cheeks finely with a woven lash of snakeskin. Elaine had been put to work in the next room, deliberately, so that she should be made to hear her old sister getting it. It took a skilful half-hour with a lash before the fatter cheeks of Pauline’s bottom were so tender that she could not bear a breath upon them. Beyond doubt, the memory of her big sister’s screams inspired the youngster’s present fury and defiance.

Now the younger girl wore only her white school blouse and striped tie. The overseer stooped and tucked the tail of the blouse well up above her hips, so that the full pale cheeks of Elaine Cox’s fifteen-year-old bottom were properly bare for her discipline.

The overseer himself smiled at this outburst. He flexed the supple bamboo and cut the air once or twice with a trial swish. Despite her adolescent rebellion, Elaine’s broadened buttocks tightened with instinctive fright at the menace of the sharp sound. She kept her eyes on the overseer as he smiled at her.

“We’re going to make you ask for your punishment to-night, Elaine Cox. You’ll call out the number of each stroke before I give it to you. If you refuse or if you miss the count, you’ll get the stroke just the same. But it won’t go towards the total of your punishment.”

The youngster gasped and cursed. She pulled vainly at the stout restraining straps in her fury and panic, but the pale fattened rear cheeks of this fifth-form tomboy offered a perfect target for the bamboo. The overseer grinned at her anger and then his voice grew stern. He boomed out for the justices to hear.

“Thirty-six strokes of the bamboo cane across your bare bottom, Elaine Cox! Call for the first!”

To the delight of the magistrates, Elaine was spurred to greater anger by the humiliation of having to ask for a thrashing from the man she loathed and despised. She called the overseer a filthy old bastard and refused to obey the order. Her impudence and her defiance of a command, lawfully given, now entitled him to deal with her in the severest manner.

Like the justices and the overseer, I was greatly looking forward to the drama, as I gazed at the full pale cheeks of Elaine Cox’s young backside. I was eager to see her caught in the predicament of not being able to bear the touch of a feather on her thrashed buttocks—and yet still having to count her official punishment from the very first stroke.

The overseer touched the cane lightly across her bare bum-cheeks, aiming with great care. He repeated his command.

“Thirty-six strokes of the bamboo across the fat young cheeks of your bare bottom, Elaine Cox! Call for the first!”

Still she defied him and cursed us all. He raised the cane high above his right shoulder. The taunting smile vanished and his mouth tightened with vindictive pleasure. There was a pause and the justices held their breath in anticipation. Then his arm came down with flashing energy. The bamboo landed with an ear-splitting smack across the pale broadened cheeks of Elaine Cox’s fifteen-year-old bottom!

The youngster caught her breath in a short cry at the ferocity of the smart. I saw that her strapped hands were clenched into fists as she struggled against the man whom she loathed. She twisted her face round, watching him, and gnawed compulsively at her lower lip in her growing apprehension. Her sturdy young buttocks tensed and squirmed, pressing together and then rounding out, as she tried to work away the lingering agony of the cane’s impact. Where it had landed, a fine double-edged print of bamboo glowed aslant the swelling and writhing pallor of Elaine Cox’s backside.

For all her defiance, Elaine’s broadened schoolgirl buttocks tensed and shifted, as if the smooth curves of white skin crawled in anticipation of the next stroke. The overseer carefully measured the cane—wickedly low across her bottom-cheeks, as one hoped he would. He raised it again and slashed it down across the faint flesh-crease, dividing the cheeks of Elaine’s young arse from her upper thighs. Urgently she controlled her cries, mewing through her pressed lips. There was a hint of desperation in the impudent face which she turned to us now. The justices met this with malicious smiles, to show her their private enjoyment of what was being done to her.

The overseer thought I could not see, as his eyes teasingly directed Elaine’s gaze to the front of his tight-fitting trousers. While the youngster looked at his trousers-front, he drew the cloth tighter still and there was dismay in her narrowed eyes. The overseer smiled as he showed this impudent fifth-form girl the shape of his excitement, harder and heavier with the enjoyment of thrashing her bare bottom.

Twice more the cane smacked agonisingly across the softer undercurve of her rear cheeks. The first pain of the impact did not diminish but swelled in a crescendo over several seconds. The overseer naturally wanted to time each stroke to land just as the torment of its predecessor reached a climax.

Elaine was soon gasping at the searching intensity of the bamboo’s torture. The justices watched, enthralled by this battle of wills between the overseer and his rebellious pupil. Between the strokes, the silence of anticipation was broken only by the creak of the block and the breathless squirming of the adolescent girl in the straps that held her down. Twice more the bamboo lashed diagonally across her bum-cheeks. Six weals, each a deepening red, now embossed her young hind-quarters. The overseer aimed a low stroke, catching her almost across the backs of her upper thighs. There was a jump of excitement among the onlookers as, for the first time, Elaine Cox screamed.

The bare whitewashed walls sharpened the girl’s adolescent shrillness and gave a new edge of enthusiasm to the excitement of those who watched her. As for the overseer himself, it was his profession to make a schoolgirl scream when she deserved the whip across her bare bottom. The pallid and slightly heavy cheek-swell of Elaine Cox’s tomboy bottom was a challenge to his skill. But he brought the cane down hard and sharp again to make the youngster’s bare buttocks jump and quiver under the stroke. The naked smart of the impact grew to a ferocious torment and Elaine Cox made the whitewashed walls ring with her shrillness again.

The justices leant forward a little, several of them licking their lips eagerly, taking a closer view. The sturdy swell of Elaine Cox’s behind and her hips surged as if in a dance of the lewdest sexual invitation. She tossed back her hair and craned round at us again. But now the broad oval of her snub-nosed face was a delightful study in consternation. The narrow eyes brimmed with tears and the thin mouth was stretched in a woeful self-pitying howl. Her very utterance seemed paralysed by the intensity of the pain which another lash of the bamboo inflicted across her bare teenage buttocks. And then Elaine Cox screamed more piercingly still.

Drawing breath deeply at last, she shouted at the magistrates—pleading to have the nine or ten uncounted strokes included in her punishment. Elaine yelled that her bottom smarted so that she could not bear another thirty-six strokes of the cane across it. The magistrates took a visible pleasure in refusing her such leniency.

“But I can’t bear thirty-six strokes!” Elaine cried in fright and indignation.

How often have those walls echoed such words even from mature married women like Trish Mitchell and her kind. To hear them come so shrilly from an insolent fifth-form girl was music in our ears! The overseer grinned.

“Get bottom-upwards over the block, Elaine Cox! Don’t presume to tell us what you can’t bear. We’ll make you bear it anyway!”

“That’s why you’re strapped down, Elaine Cox,” the chairman added. “So that you have to bear the punishment decided upon.”

“No! No!” It was the wildest cry she had so far uttered.

There were smiles and quiet laughter at this.

“Ask us to thrash your bare bottom, Elaine Cox,” the chairman said, still smiling at the youngster’s dismay, “Call for the first stroke.”

Gasping and writhing, she still refused, not daring to invite the anguish. Just the same, the supple bamboo landed across her bare bottom again with a sound like a riding-master’s lash. Elaine’s frenzy rang back from the stone walls. Marked by the brands of bamboo, her tomboy bottom-cheeks surged and contorted as she struggled vainly against the straps. The chairman held her gaze with his knowing smile.

“Ask us to whip your bare bottom, Elaine Cox. You’re a big fifth-form girl now, not one of the little juniors. You must learn to ask for your punishments.”

“And you’re a big-bottomed fifth-form girl as well, Elaine Cox,” said one of the others. “You need a real thrashing with the prison cane to teach you a lesson in manners.”

The overseer caught the girl with another stroke, wickedly low across her backside—and another, deliberately given across the rear of her thighs. Her pleading ended in a shrill panic.

“Count the strokes, Elaine Cox!” smiled the chairman. “We know how to teach obedience to a young ruffian of your sort!”

The cane smacked across her young backside once more before she could obey them. And then Elaine Cox surrendered with a shriek that made our ears ring.

“ONE!”

It is impossible for those who have not experienced it to know the pleasure there is in imposing such obedience on an insolent and ruffianly girl like Elaine Cox. There was a pause and an air of satisfaction among the justices before the thirty-six strokes began. The overseer teased the youngster by taking a long time in measuring the cane this way and that across the stripes already printed upon her squirming backside. The other justices commanded her sharply while she squirmed over the block and waited to be tanned.

“Don’t act bashful with us, Elaine Cox!” added the chairman. “We had your big sister over that block a few weeks ago. You won’t be offering anything much different to what she showed us! Two fat young female arses in the same family look much the same.”

It is no part of my intention to betray confidences. Yet the world guessed something of the chairman’s private intentions towards the women of that family—a trio of sisters and a slattern of thirty-seven or thirty-eight who had encumbered society with them. There was to be collective taking down of their knickers and bending them in a row. By the time he had examined and chastised them, the chairman might have written a learned paper on the comparative shapes of the female backside in one family. To some moralists, his enthusiasm would have been the cause of misgiving, had it not all been done in the pursuit of virtue and correction. Justice approves the whipping of such a woman and her daughters together—when the aim is to enforce a moral upon them.

After they had reprimanded Elaine a little more, the chastisement was resumed. With a whip-like energy the supple cane smacked across the bottom-cheeks of this rebellious girl. The very walls sang with the sharpness of the impact. The impudent youngster cried out, wild and shrill. But she tried desperately not to miss the count, dreading those extra strokes that it would earn her. But you may be sure that the overseer did not let her succeed in avoiding some extra whip-smacks of bamboo. He thrashed Elaine’s sturdy tomboy bottom very quick and hard—and again before she could curb her screams.

“Two!” yelled Elaine, and the bamboo lashed aslant the pallor of her strapping young buttocks, branding her with its fiery imprint, “Three!… Four!… Stop!… Shit!… Pl-e-e-ase! Stop! Just for a moment! Oooooow!… No!… Ooow!… Don’t do it again yet!… No! No… Pl-e-a-s-e! Owwww!… Five!… S-i-i-x!… Oh, my bottom! My bottom!… Not across my legs again!… Ahhh!… Seven!… Ooow!… Eight!… Oh, fuck you!… Oh, my fucking arse!!! Please don’t!… Nine!… I can’t bear any more!… Not low down on my arse again! No! No! O-o-o-o-w!… Let me go!… Please!… I can’t wait!!!… Ten!… No!… Please don’t!… N-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!!… My arse!!… Oh, my arse!!!”

At every stroke her full and pale-fleshed hips rose while Elaine Cox’s bottom-crack was compressed to a thin tight line, as if to contain the torment and her own unladylike urges. The overseer and the justices were unmoved by the youngster’s cry that her young backside would blemish the dignity of the occasion unless they allowed her a respite. Discipline would soon be undermined if it could be interrupted by such threats or vulgarity. These judicial chastisements are an object-lesson in the ways of feminine behavior. It is intriguing to witness the extreme vulgarity which the most disdainful young woman can be driven to employ when severely chastised.

It was fortunate that Elaine was firmly held down by leather straps which were broad and stout. Had not her bare thighs and ankles been pinioned, the rebellious pupil would certainly have kicked out at her overseer as he corrected her with the cane. Under each impact of the bamboo Elaine’s pale teenage bottom-flesh jumped and quivered as if touched by an electric shock. She tried to expel the swelling torment of each whip-like smack by surging the sturdy pallor of her backside outwards. Fortunately, this made the soundly-thrashed cheeks of her schoolgirl bottom a superb target, more fully and fatly presented.

In her present state Elaine would have been a teacher’s delight. The slight adolescent heaviness of her hips and seat had made her look quite a big-bottomed fifth-form girl as she knelt over the block. The raised cane-stripes across her bare buttocks might have moved a few pedagogues to leniency had she still been a demure beginner. In the case of a big girl of her sort, however, the bamboo weals across Elaine Cox’s bare buttocks would have put some very vindictive ideas into most scholastic minds!

Among the prints, there was one low down upon the softer curve of her swelling and broadened young buttocks. It was a deeper and more vivid tone. The hue of it assured us how tender it must be. Any teacher who had endured Elaine’s insolence in his classroom in the past would have wanted to smarten her up across it. And so did the overseer. He measured the bamboo lightly across that deeper-coloured print. In her panic, the girl twisted her bare hips and contorted her robust but reddened rear cheeks. There was indignation as well as pleading in her voice. She turned her impudent young face round and yelled at her chastiser.

“Don’t tan me there! Not across there again! Not again! No!”

A wicked smile softened his stern face.

“Lie tighter over the block and stick your backside right out at the justices, Elaine Cox! That strapping young bottom of yours can take much more caning yet! I’ll give you a dozen strokes across there, if I choose. And you’ll lie bottom-upwards and take every one of them! I’ve been waiting to give your insolent young bum-cheeks a proper punishment-lesson, Elaine. I’ll make this one last a long time.”

He teased her a little longer, measuring the bamboo lightly upon the tender pattern. Then he raised the supple wand and thrashed it down along the plum-coloured imprint. Elaine uttered a soprano frenzy, her body taut with the searching anguish. Her toes curled and her hands were clenched until the fingernails bit into the palms. The raised print that ran low across the youngster’s sturdily broadened bottom-cheeks was now deeper toned and appeared more dangerous. But such a target was far too tempting to be ignored. The overseer touched the cane lightly across the smarting print once more, taking careful aim.

Thrash! The slim bamboo smacked across the burning welt with an impact like a ringmaster’s whip. Thrash! Thrash! Again and again he tanned her across the swelling smart with eager energy. The walls rang with a peal of her adolescent shrillness. Presently the justices drew sharp breaths of delight at what they saw. A ruby line of punctuation dots welled up from the darker print and trickled down the surging cheeks of Elaine Cox’s backside. To have a vulgar and rebellious young tomboy with her arse in such a predicament was profoundly exhilarating. Her obedience-training was now begun in earnest. Best of all, her predicament was entirely the result of her own defiance and insolence.

The overseer stood back. His tongue licked along the mischievous smile which seemed to pluck secretly at the severe line of his mouth.

Elaine felt the little trickles down her lower seat-cheeks, momentarily gathering in the flesh-crease under the weightier curves of her adolescent buttocks and then running down the backs of her thighs. Tossing back her lank fair hair, she twisted the broad oval of her face round to us, animated by a last defiant fury. In a wild outburst, Elaine Cox yelled.

“My arse! Oh, my arse!… You bastards!… Oh, you fucking bastards!”

I could only catch a few phrases of what the overseer said as he stooped and whispered teasingly in the girl’s ear, his hand lying against her bare hip. You may be sure that his words caused a murmur of amusement among the justices.

“I’ll teach you a lesson in manners, Elaine Cox, you impudent little scrubber!… Must I silence your insolence?… Shall it be your own knickers, Elaine? Or a pair of your big sister’s—or young Maxine’s little pants?”

The moment of amusement was over. The mouths of the justices tightened and a vindictive gleam showed in their eyes. No wonder the youngster gave a gasp of fright as she met their gaze. Had I not been there, I believe they really might have made a wad of Elaine Cox’s knickers—or those of her sister’s—to muzzle her defiance.

“You’ve counted nineteen strokes so far, Elaine,” said the chairman of the justices calmly. “You chose not to count the other seventeen your overseer has given you—and so they will not be considered. Seventeen strokes of the cane still to be counted, Elaine Cox! Call for the next!”

“No!” she wailed. “Not yet! I’m not ready yet!”

How often do the walls of girls’ schoolrooms and reformatory punishment-cells echo to such frantic appeals for delay! The cane smacked hard across Elaine’s writhing and contorting buttocks, ending her protest with a shrill surrender.

“TWENTY!!”

By this time there were other eyes watching the scene. Behind the justices was a row of small barred windows set high in the blank wall. Neither the overseer nor the magistrates looked in that direction, though Elaine saw them every time that she craned round at us. A dozen lads of her own age, fugitives for the night from their own reform colony nearby, had shinned up the brick walls to perch on the outer ledges of these windows. To watch the girls having their knickers taken down in the punishment-room and their bare beauty chastised was a treat for these boys. As Elaine twisted her face round, they grinned at her knowingly. Each young scamp had unbuttoned at his window and smilingly showed her a fine young instrument in his hand, as he worked it for dear life in the excitement of watching her bare bottom caned.

I was later to watch our graceful nymph of sixteen, Tracey Hope, strapped over the step-ladder. What dismay she showed in her fine blue eyes when she looked round and saw her own boy-friend at his window. The magistrates had put an end to youthful fondling and cuddling by sending Tracey to one reformatory and the lad to another. Now he was excited as any of the justices at seeing the whip snaking and lashing across the elegant ovals of Tracey’s rear cheeks or round the long graceful sweep of her young thighs. If a boy could not enjoy the naked charms of Tracey Hope, or Jane Mitchener, or Martina Ellman in any other way, this was better than nothing at all.

At present the reform-colony lads longed only for the girls’ punishment-lessons to last all night. The greater the humiliation of a fifth-form bully like Elaine, the more the lads enjoyed it. Just then, the overseer aimed the bamboo with consummate skill. He caught the sturdy fifteen-year-old girl wickedly aslant her bottom-cheeks with it. Unable to contain herself under the atrocious smart, Elaine Cox farted.

By her adolescent rudeness, the youngster brought smiles to the faces of the middle-aged magistrates which the wittiest compliment of the drawing-room could not equal. The lads at the windows met the consternation in Elaine’s narrowed eyes with grins of delight. A rudeness that would have marred their courtship elsewhere now added to their excitement. To begin with, they knew she would be punished at once for impudence. Each youthful tool hardened still more at the thought that Elaine’s sturdy young rear cheeks would now be bamboo’d with even more severity than they had hoped. Even if they had had the power, not one of them would have intervened to save her from the skinning of her bottom-cheeks that she was going to get.

Elaine tossed back her lank hair and craned round at the justices with an “Oooooo!” of fright at what she had just done. She knew that such impudence by her young backside would earn an agonising addition from the cane. The smiles on the faces of the portly gentlemen assured of this. At the six barred windows, six faces of reform-school boys of her own age grinned eagerly at her as Elaine looked up at them desperately. Each boy humorously showed himself to her, holding the hard and swelling tool so that she should have a good look at it.

To make matters worse for her, it seems Elaine knew that, in her present state, the naked torment of the next lash of the bamboo would make her young bottom repeat its impudence. She confided her predicament to the justices and begged an interval to regain her self-possession.

You may be sure that they refused her with smiles and chuckles. The overseer quickly touched the cane across her writhing rear cheeks to take aim before she could curb herself. His lips tightened vindictively. Then he thrashed the whippy bamboo across her backside with savage accuracy. The impact was sharp enough to make the very air sing again! As the cane smacked across her swelling rear cheeks Elaine Cox’s tomboy bottom retorted more lustily still. Smiling at her, the justices awarded her eight extra strokes to teach her a lesson for behaving in such an unladylike manner.

Even now, the sight of Elaine Cox still strapped arse-upwards over the block, in a big-bottomed posture and with her buttocks burning red, was a great temptation! She could not have borne a breath of wind upon her rear cheeks without flinching. It was her own conduct—or rather misconduct—that had earned her such severity. In this tender state, Elaine’s robust young arse would have been responsive to a real lesson in obedience. I wished that she had been left thus at my disposal. Of all the girls in her class, I would have chosen her. Safe from prying eyes in this place from which no tales are told, I would have used the short woven lash of snakeskin. The walls were soundproof and the straps which held her over the block were broad and stout. I leave you to imagine the sequel but I assure you that the present furnace-glow of Elaine Cox’s bottom-cheeks would have been just a beginning.

My feelings about her were more intense than ever. Neither my fondling and bottom-kissing of Elaine that afternoon nor the tanning she had just had could diminish my zeal. Had I been left with her in her present state, I would have made the punishment of her tomboy backside last until the first faint light of dawn appeared beyond the high barred windows. When one is alone with a youngster like her, and in such a mood as mine, it is possible to enforce discipline far beyond the point that is prudent while there are onlookers. Elaine would not have been able to wear the elasticated cotton of her school pants for several days afterwards! To sit on the wooden seat of her classroom desk with Tracey and the others would have been an ordeal of some considerable discomfort!

When the overseer laid down the cane at last, one was bound to admire his skill. The eyes which Elaine turned to us brimmed over with tears and her mouth had become a howling oval. What an improvement it was upon the insolent and rebellious look with which she had begun the evening. As for her bottom and the rear of her thighs, she looked as if she had spent the day sitting on a ferocious thorn bush, infested by angry hornets. The cheeks of her backside were the colour of fire, marked across by the dangerous and deeper-toned stripes of finely embossed prints of bamboo. Despite this, my obsession with her was such that Elaine’s rear cheeks seemed to me to be in a state that invited punishment rather than excused it.

Two matrons unfastened the youngster from the block, though they strapped Elaine’s wrists firmly together in front of her to prevent any sudden act of vengeance which she might attempt. With the matrons holding her firmly by either arm to forestall a struggle, Elaine walked awkwardly, seeming to limp a little, which was merely the effect of the bambooing. The little grey skirt and her schoolgirl knickers were left lying on the table. She wore only her white uniform blouse and striped tie. The tail of the blouse hung untidily aslant her scorching buttocks, which gave her the look of a carelessly-dressed little girl. Her head was lowered, the lank hair spilling about her face, and she continued to sob occasionally in a most contrite manner.

“You are to be congratulated, Mr. Bowler!” said the chairman of the justices, standing up and shaking the overseer by the hand. “As fine a discipline as ever I saw!”

They had been so busy with Elaine that time had flown by and it was now after ten o’clock. There must have been several girls waiting and trembling in the next room. Some were as old as Susan and Jacqueline. Others were as young as Jane Mitchener. Each of them would have her turn, even if it took us until dawn to complete the punishments of them all.

“Which of them comes next on the list?” asked the chairman.

“There are two girls of eighteen,” said the overseer sternly, “Sharon and Louise. Both are to be punished for immorality committed in one another’s beds.”

“By all means,” said the chairman, “I should like to see Sharon Anne and Louise chastised. I think it would be best if they were thrashed in each other’s company. Let us have ’em in.”

Before that happened, however, there was a pause. It was a warm summer night, despite the damp that appeared here and there on the brickwork of the whitewashed walls and through the cracks of the flagstones. Jugs of beer and lemon had been set out on tables at the back of the high gaslit room. Several of the justices made their way there to refresh themselves. The overseer, after his energy in thrashing Elaine Cox, sank half a pint of beer without taking the glass from his lips.

Presently the overseer went across to the door. I heard him summoning Sharon and Louise, the two eighteen-year-old girl-friends, to present themselves for correction.


And that’s Richard Manton. He wrote perhaps a dozen books, all in this vein. You can find eBook copies at Olympia Press.

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5 responses to “Writing the Spanking Scene Part 12–"Elaine Cox" by Richard Manton

  1. Manton was my introduction to spanking erotica. I kept his books, which I purchased on guilty trips to the bookstore in the “big city,” under lock and key, bringing them out only for brief and very private “tingly” moments, but I remembered them vividly under other circumstnces. In a burst of guilt over my spanking fixation, I disposed of all my copies in a business dumpster in the darkof night, and I've regretted it eved since.
    Yes, the market is much easier to access and it is possible to find kinder, gentler and more plot-driven material today, but Manton still has a place in my heart. Thanks for the reminder and for info on finding his books. I may begin a new collection.

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  2. I remember this story very well from an early issue of Janus. It was the most erotic caning I had ever read and Elaine has stayed with me ever since. Thank you for posting this for everyone's enjoyment.

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  3. Manton was master of the judical/organised punishment scenario the powerlessness & complete domination plus the voyeuristic observation of the punishment is perfection.

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  4. Elaine Cox is the reason I am an ass man.

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