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Monday, 31 December 2012

Quiet Sunday

All in all, it was a quiet Sunday yesterday. The weather was brighter so I did some "yard  work"as our US friends call it. and tidied up in the garden

Over lunch my wife asked if we had won the lottery on Saturday night? I had to inform her that was a  negative. She laughingly told me I was useless. 

I suggested grumpily that she could always buy a ticket if she was so damned good at picking numbers. 

That bit of cheek earned me ten swats with the wooden spoon over my pants, trousers down and over the kitchen chair. They smarted.

In the afternoon we retired to bed for an hour or so. I gave her some pleasure and she responded with a very nice slow hand job and a fantasy story  about  how she came home and caught me reading a girlie magazine.

We slept for a while and then got dressed to visit her family for tea and cakes. 

To encourage cheerful behaviour she gave me a dozen spanks with the new bath-brush. That hurt a lot, coming so soon after my coming. There were no endorphins available to absorb the pain and turn it into pleasure. Funny how ejaculation does that.

New Years Eve tonight and I hope to party in those new blue knickers, if she allows.


I don't think our New Years party will be quite as relaxed as this one, but who knows.


Have a good start to 2013 whatever you do.

Sunday, 30 December 2012

Sunday Spanklet - Christmas with Mr Martin



Spanklet  (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.
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( You may wish  to read Spanklet Parcel Post  to discover the characters in this Part 2 spanklet)

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Sam was down from University again for the Christmas holidays. He went along with his parents to a neighbour’s Christmas Eve party, more for the free drink than for the company. He moved around the busy rooms of the large house, acknowledging the greetings of some his parent’s friends and acquaintances and taking an appreciative glance at some of the older teenage girls from the neighbourhood, who were growing up fast.

In the corner of the conservatory he saw his next-door neighbour, Mr Martin, engaged in conversation with a stunning looking woman in her late forties.

Mr Martin, or Peter as he had told Sam to address him, looked up to wave at Sam across the room indicating that he should join then.  As Sam started to walk over Peter lifted his beer bottle in the air and pointed to it, signalling that he would like Sam to get him another one. Peter’s friend copied the gesture indicating that her wine glass was empty and mouthed the word “white”. She gave Sam a broad smile when he acknowledged her request with a nod.

After a few minutes Sam was back from the kitchen carrying the two drinks and his own beer in a sort of triangle between his fingers. As he approached he bent down to place the bottles and the wine glass on the window shelf.

“Andrea this is Sam, Sam  this is Andrea.” Peter made the introduction and Sam shook hands with the woman. He noticed that her handshake was firm, not vigorous or manly, but it held a certain amount of power. She pushed down with her grip as if to assert her authority.

“Sam was a bit of a  naughty boy over the summer.”

Peter had turned to address this comment to Andrea and Sam looked around in a panic to see who might be in earshot.

“As a matter fact I had to cane him to teach him a lesson.”

Peter was speaking in a low voice and the otherguests close by seemed not to hear him. Sam felt the rush of blood to his face as he coloured up with shame. To give himself something to do he picked up the drinks and handed them over.

“Oh dear. That sounds very sore. Was it painful, dear Sam?"  Andrea’s question was almost soothing as she looked at the young man with sympathy in her eyes.

Sam whispered quietly that it was.

“But he deserved every stroke,”  Peter went on. “ Don’t look so worried Sam. Andrea is a close friend of mine and she knows all about my special interest. Now she knows about you as well. Better to be honest I always think.”

Sam wished that the ground would open up and swallow him.

Just at that moment his mother came up alongside them and thankfully the talk of punishments came to an end. There were more introductions and Peter explained that Andrea was a long time friend, who had come across from Bristol to spend Christmas.with him.

Sam’s mother raised her eyebrows in that way that women do when they hear of new relationships. This small piece of information would add to the gossip she could pass around  at the party.

Sam drifted away to talk to some other people leaving his mother in full flow of conversation. After maybe an hour Peter came to find him.

“We’re leaving now, Sam, but Andrea was wondering if you would like to pay us a visit this evening. Maybe around 7 o’clock.  She would like to get to know you a bit better. In fact, it was more of an instruction from her than an invitation, if you get my drift.”

Sam was intrigued and he felt himself stiffening in his trousers as Peter spoke that last sentence in rather a sharp tone.

“Yes, thank you I would like to do that.”

“Oh and one other thing Sam. Are you doing anything on New Years Eve?”

Sam thought for a moment. There was a vague plan to meet up with some of his old school friends for a drink but it was nothing special, so he said that he was free.

“We’re going to a party,” Peter explained. “Quite an interesting  sort of party and we would like you to come along. We thought you could drive us.  You can always have a drink at our place once we get back home, sometime after midnight. Does that sound alright with you?”

Again, what Peter was saying came across as an instruction from this older man and not something Sam felt he could decline.

He responded that it was very kind of them to invite him and he looked forward to it.

A few minutes later he watched Peter and Andrea say their goodbyes andleave the drinks do. Sam stayed for another half an hour. He had drunk quite a bit on an empty stomach so when he got back to his own house he ate some lunch and then went to sleep it off for the rest of the afternoon.

At around 6pm Sam showered and dressed in slacks and a casual shirt. He told his parents that he was going to meet friends.

Just minutes before 7 he rang the bell of Mr Martin’s house. After a short wait the door locks rattled and someone looked out through a narrow crack..

“Ah, it is you. Come in Sam. I just wanted to make sure we were not being visited by a tall dark stranger, since I am not exactly dressed for visitors

The front door swung fully open to reveal Andrea dressed in a short silk kimono of vivid shades of red. 


“Come in, come in boy.”









He closed the door behind him and followed Andrea into the dining room, the same room in which he had received his punishment from Peter only a few months ago.

The room was brightly lit with candles and wall-lights.

As Andrea turned to face Sam  she picked up a long cane from the table.

“I was just finishing off Peter’s session. You’re next. That is if you want to stay of course?”

Bent over the table was the naked Peter. The marks of the cane’s recent visitation on his bare bottom were clearly visible. Sam had never seen a naked mans bottom exposed in such an open position and he found it difficult not to stare. Peter had a sash tied around his mouth and clearly he could not speak. Sam felt the urge to say hello to him but realised this would be a stupid thing to say, under the circumstances.

He turned back to Andrea. “I would like to stay Ma’am.”

“Excellent. I thought you would. Peter tells me you took quite a thrashing so now you can see what our little games are all about. It will be painful mind you. Peter will testify to my skills with a cane and a crop. Take off all your clothes and go and stand in the naughty corner over there.”

Saturday, 29 December 2012

Christmas Caning

Not a lot happened on Friday. I made a quick customer visit in the area and then came home. My wife had gone off to the shops with friend and left me a note that I should start taking down the Christmas decorations.

We used to wait until Twelfth Night, but now she likes to get the house back to order before the New Year. As I started on the lights and baubles I was struck by how quickly Christmas comes and goes.

I had a comment from an Anonymous Reader who wrote that he is celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas by receiving twelve strokes on his bottom each day and his wife is using a different implement every time. I don't know if Anon is dreaming or if this is a reality for him, but I will give him the benefit of the doubt.

A few years ago, when our children were teenagers and we hadn't started to have relatives as house guests over Christmas, there seemed to be more periods of the day or evening when we had the house to ourselves and I got spanked or punished more regularly.

On one such year I left a note to my wife which was parody of the Twelve Nights carol, the one where it starts with a single gift of A Partridge in  Pear Tree and each day brings more gifts up to 12 items. The chorus of this song is a run down of each gift so on the fourth day of Christmas you sing  Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens . Two Turtle Doves, and a Partridge in  Pear Tree and so on. 

In my version I asked my wife to cane me each day from December  25th to January 5th and to increase the number of strokes by adding the strokes of each of the previous days. 

This results in 78 strokes by the time you get to the last day, although the first few days are pretty light. When I wrote the note to her I did not spell things out, as I have done below, so she had no idea it would get to be such a severe number by the end. I just told her that I would ask for and call out the number of strokes on each particular day.

In the event she took to the whole thing like a duck to water and both of us eagerly awaited an opportunity  each day to fulfill the Christmas Caning Song, as she christened it.

We only did it the one time but I frequently mention it over the Christmas period each year, hoping it might be repeated.

Day 1 1
2 3
3 6
4 10
5 15
6 21
7 28
8 36
9 45
10 55
11 66
12 78


Friday, 28 December 2012

Christmas is over

Funny thing life. One minute I write about fantasies and then the next day when I go to the club to do some lengths (in readiness for those New Year resolutions) a young woman starts to swim next to me.

She was wearing a side tied purple bikini and had the body to carry it off. Those  clearview  swim goggles of mine came into their own and I happily swam at her pace about 3 yards behind.



After maybe 4 lengths I figured she might be guessing that I was admiring her bottom, as it kicked open in breaststroke style, so I swam past her and then found myself swimming hard over 3 lengths to catch her up again. Happily the bikini bottoms had ridden up even higher over cheeks by the time I got behind her again.





Bit naughty of me I suppose, all this voyeurism, but enjoyable nonetheless. 




After maybe 10 more lengths of following her, she climbed out over the side (gasp again), rearranged her pants with the tips of her fingers so that the material covered her cheeks and then walked over to the sauna. 


I thought that at my age it would be even sadder to decide to have a sauna, but she did provide me with the content for a whole new fantasy.

My mind went into overdrive as I continued my swim

Back at home, the last of guests had departed  so I started on a big tidy up and made the supper. Over a drink in the kitchen my wife and I exchanged notes about the Christmas festivities. She had some gossip from one of the parties we had attended and I had some amusing comments to make about our house guests. 


After eating and then  watching some TV we went to bed and I offered cunnilingus. She wiggled happily as the first orgasm arrived and then said she was tired. She was asleep in minutes.



Thursday, 27 December 2012

Fantasies




Fantasy.

Hard to define perhaps, but I like this one from a dictionary.

An imagined event or sequence of mental images, such as a daydream, usually fulfilling a wish or psychological need.

This seems to sum up my spanking fantasies. I have no idea if other mammals have fantasies but it strikes me that the ability to place oneself in another world, without any apparent effort, is probably an attribute of the human mind.

I can fantasize at the drop of a hat. Just put me in an environment where I feel that I am effectively alone and I can extract a fantasy from the menu in my head and play out whatever spanking scenario I wish. 

I don't have to be alone in a bed;  I can do it on a train, a plane or in a car travelling with a driver, when I am pretending to be asleep.

 I love it.       

It is a splendid way to pass the time.

The scenes are perfect in every detail. 

Mistresses are approachable but strict, attractive girls who I am about to spank are loving and submissive. The strokes of the cane can be harsh or the hand spanking can be affectionate.

The fantasy can be lengthy, extending into several chapters, or it can be short and I can move into a completely different scene within seconds.


Tonight when I am lying in bed, after a very pleasant time over Christmas, I will decide which of these two characters will provide the substance to my fantasy.





Oh, and there is another advantage - the outcome is always the one you thought it  would be - no surprises here in fantasy world.



Wednesday, 26 December 2012

Don't let your eyes wander.


Out of the 6 family members staying at our house over Christmas, 5 of us set off for a Christmas Day walk yesterday. 

This is a late morning affair which is not arduous. We do about an hours walk in the surrounding area and end up at the local pub, where we have previously left a car so we can get home if one of us does not drink alcohol.

Unfortunatey the rain started about a half-way through our walk and although we were equipped for it, we still arrived at the pub in a wet state.

We chatted with people we know, smiled and wished a Merry Christmas to those we didn’t, and had a couple of drinks each.

From where we sat I could see a lot of the bar and I could not take my eyes off a pretty 20 year old, dressed in a fantastic outfit which consisted of a Christmas sweater , a grey mini skirt, black tights on fantastic legs and black boots.


Unfortunately my attention on this girl did not go unnoticed by my wife.










When we got home we all went upstairs to change and get ready for the turkey meal.

In our bedroom my wife turned a hard stare on me and told me that she did not appreciate me looking at other younger women, who  obviously dressed to attract maximum attention, particularly when she looked like a drowned rat after getting soaked on the walk. 

I apologised and said I only had eyes for her.

Yeah right, she said, and stormed off to the bathroom.

After a few minutes I joined her and apologised and said I did not want her to be in a bad mood over Christmas.

In that case she said, getting a hold of her hairbrush, you can drop your pants.

In a slow deliberate fashion she used the hairbrush in upward strokes on my testicles. 

This is her method of giving me a silent punishment. No one can hear the quiet smacking of wood on soft balls but the pain is frightful. I

 looked deep into her eyes each time the brush landed and she knew I was suffering. Because she was so mad at me, it went on for longer than usual  and I nearly had to ask her to stop, but I knew I deserved it and more.

She put the brush down and turned and told me to kiss her ass and remember my place in future. 

I knelt behind her with pain in my groin and lavished attention on her bottom. 

Whilst she finished her make up she reminded me that I was the submissive and she was the Mistress in our relationship and that I had better remember that fact. She told me add 30 strokes in the demerit book and then to my surprise told me to go and get some gel.

I knew I that might be  forgiven when she offered a Christmas present of a doggy style fuck, with her bent over the vanity unit. 

I needed no encouragement  and my scorched balls were soon slapping against her cool  cheeks. 

I paid special attention to her for the rest of the day, as you would expect.

Tuesday, 25 December 2012

Merry Christmas


Whether you are giving or receiving this Christmas, I hope you have a jolly time. 


Best wishes to all the friends I have made through this blog and to the unknown readers.



"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," said Scrooge. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!"

Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol






Monday, 24 December 2012

Last minute shopping


We managed to fit in some late shopping on Friday  as our work colleagues, mine in Europe and my wife’s more locally, all seemed to switch off and go home early. My wife and I met in town and had a coffee and cake  in a well known store.

 I think I mentioned before, that the designers of this particular store had thought things out for female impulse buying, because you have to go through the lingerie section to get to the café.

My wife commented that my eyes were swivelling out of their sockets when we made our way past the mannequins in the bra and pants. As we sipped our drinks she indicated that pain must come before pleasure and she wanted to look at the Homeware section first but then, if I was good, we could come back to lingerie.

I did exactly as I was told and was a model husband whilst we looked at such fascinating things as pillows, sheets and towels. We did not seem to buy that much but the bill at the cash desk was pretty steep. I made no comment. We left the purchases there to send them to car collection.

On our way out of the store my wife teased me by leading me all around the different departments on a circuitous route to the exit, which did not pass anywhere close to Lingerie. As we approached the final door and I thought all was lost she turned and asked why the glum face, as if she didn’t know? 

She laughed when I mouthed the word lingerie and told me to speak up. What was it I wanted? 

You know, I said.  

Ah yes, she said in a fairly loud voice, we need to go back to knickers.

I felt my face flush as she took me by the arm and turned me around.

 Let’s go get you some nice panties for Christmas shall we, she whispered in my ear

As good as her word, we ended buying a multi-pack of everyday plain cotton knickers for her and a pair of blue control knickers for me. 

She thought I would look much trimmer and wondered if I should wear them on New Years Eve when we are out a party.

You see, she said, as we left the store car park, it’s much more fun when you’re a good boy.  

I have to agree.

Saturday, 22 December 2012

You had better be good - or Miss Dana Kane will show the way

For all those married guys, or the single ones, who are headed off to parties this Christmas weekend, maybe you should get a reminder on how to behave.


Dana Kane has the ideal method of instruction on how your wife or partner should deal with you before the party starts.



Watch how Dana  gets things sorted out, before the pair leave for the party,  in the video at:

http://www.spankingtube.com/video/10184/before-the-party






If you are really lucky your partner may entertain you after the party, once you are safely home and you have shown full respect to her.

Feliz Natal

Thursday, 20 December 2012

Christmas comes but once a year

Well, the Christmas and Holiday preparations are just about done and we await some family members this weekend. I have done a good job on all the house cleaning, if I say so myself.

We are planning some final shopping this weekend and I have a few things to buy on the internet.

On Monday my wife suggested that I needed some maintenance to put me in the right frame of mind for being nice and non-argumentative over Christmas. This was a pleasant surprise as there has not been much in the way of maintenance recently, although there have been some spankings. Maintenance is usually quite a severe session with many different instruments.

The surprise suddenly got even better when she volunteered to do a "domination visit" session and she would take look at  Punishment Book beforehand. She said that I could plan a visit on Wednesday. My wife would get home from work earlier and I could book an appointment for 7 pm. 

She added that it might be a nice idea if I was to invite my Mistress out for dinner afterwards.

I was madly excited and asked in raspy voice what the fee would be. Her usual she said - £200. She had expensive tastes and wanted something special for Christmas which she would get for herself. That didn't mean she didn't want a present from me though.

At 6.45 I got back from work - after a quick pint of beer in the pub on the way.

In the hallway I found a small pile of clothes and a note. 

"Take the soap and towel and shower outside with the garden hose. Get changed and then knock on the bedroom door. Stay silent or suffer the consequences." 

The business of hosing myself down was quite new. I stripped in the kitchen and walked out of the back door into the dark of the side of the house. I had not been nude in the garden since last summer when we both went out late at night and played around in the summer house. 

It was not too cold out there, unlike last week, but the water was absolutely freezing. I  held the hose over my head and tried to soap myself down. This was a novel form of punishment or control and I wondered where she had got the idea. At last when I thought I was clean in all the right places I went back inside and rubbed myself dry. The clock on the wall showed that I did not have much time left. The clothes my wife had left out were a  pair of shorts and a white T shirt along with some thong knickers and white socks. I was still a bit damp as I struggled into them. 

In a few minutes I was up the stairs and knocking lightly on the closed bedroom door, the excitement was buzzing in my head as I heard her command me to enter.

The room was softly lit with just a sidelight and some candles. There was a wooden chair from the kitchen placed against the wardrobe and the blanket chest was pulled away from the end of the bed. There was no duvet on the bed, just the white top sheet and on this there was a selection of canes, straps  and paddles all laid out in a neat row.  

My wife, my Mistress, looked sensational in a black one piece body with holdup stockings and high heels. Her hair was tied back and she looked like she meant business. In one hand she held a riding crop  which she swished gently against the side of one leg. She requested payment and when I offered her the envelope she counted out the notes and then placed them in a drawer by the bed. There was a hint of menace in her voice when she turned to say..

"So here you are. A little late I see. Well, we both know why you're here so from now on you will do exactly as I say!"

"Yes Mistress."

"Be silent, I don't need your contributions." She hit the back of  my bare leg hard with the crop.




For the next hour she led me uphill and down in a mixture of emotions and feelings of pain and pleasure. She incorporated every instrument into a different scene. At first she had me bend over for a traditional caning of six of the best and then gave me an extra six when I moved out of position. Following that she sat on the chair and took down my shorts down before pulling me over her knees. I had to get up after a hand spanking and fetch the paddle. She spanked me into total submission and it was difficult to hold back the words asking her to stop. She would not have been impressed if I could not take a spanking without crying off.






After a pause in the proceedings , whilst I was sent to fetch her a glass of wine, I was told to strip completely to just the thong pants and made to stretch out on the bed for long slow sexy session with the riding crop. The pleasure was intense as she ran the tip  of the crop all over my back and front, giving me playful slaps with the leather tab. I was groaning and moaning and thrusting my hips in every direction.  






Then I was turned onto my stomach and she picked up the leather strap. I was made to spread my legs wide and my arms and told to stay absolutely still. I turned my head to watch as she lifted the strap overarm and then lost sight of it as it whooshed  down, smack across both cheeks. I love the strap and she knows it. the broad band of pain is not that sharp and the warmth it spreads in my cheeks is great. I always feel at my most submissive when I am being strapped simply because I would be happy for it to continue for hours on end.

When she grew  tired of pleasuring me it was time for a serious punishment, so I was bent over the back of the chair and caned hard. I lost count after about 40 strokes and my bottom was ablaze with red hot lines. My wife sat down on the bed and left me standing facing her  whilst she sipped her wine and lectured me about behaving well with all the family over Christmas. I would have promised anything to her, bearing in mind  what she was giving me as present from her heart. 

She stood up and tied a blindfold around my head before guiding me to the blanket chest, telling me first to sit and then to lie down on my back. I heard a rustle in a drawer and  felt a cool hand pull the front of the thong pants down, as she applied gel and began to rub my erection into life. 

Moments later, still unseeing in the silk blindfold, I felt the leather thongs of the small  whip being dragged up and down my legs, waist and chest. They came teasingly close to my prick and my excitement made it wave around, searching out the pleasure of the teasing leather thong strips. Softly at first and then with more urgency she used her other hand to slap my testicles. The pain was sharp but not unbearable and I moaned. 




She slapped my bits harder and harder and then I felt her legs brush the side of my arms as she got into a position  standing astride the bench near my shoulders. The whip came back and in a steady flurry of strokes she flogged the head and stem and scrotum of my penis.






 I heard two poppers click as she undid the body at the crotch and then she lowered her pussy onto my face.Using the strength in her legs she supported her weight and gently rubbed herself over my eager tongue from the tip of her mound to the ring of her anus. I licked and sucked for all I was worth as she steadily whipped away at my prick. I lifted my hips to try and direct the ends of the whip up into my balls and around the soft skin inside my bottom cheeks. The pain there was exquisite. I wanted the whipping to last and last.

"Start wanking."

I needed no second instruction and in only a few minutes I had spurted cum across my waist. 

"Lick yourself clean."

As she stood up and got off the top of me I scooped up the sticky cum as best I could in the fingers of one hand and took it to my lips to lick them. As a final gesture, to speed me up, she smacked the inside of my thighs with the crop.

"All done. You can go now, once I have left the room. And make sure you tidy things away."

My Mistress left for the bathroom and I sat up, pulling away the blindfold. The room looked like something from a bordello. Spanking implements, whips, canes, clothes, items of  furniture littered the floor and the bed. All that was missing were two or three girls in petticoats lounging around with their male customers.


Sore but happy, I put everything back to normal and went to get dressed.

As we got into the car, to drive off for a meal, my wife leaned across and kissed me.

"Anything interesting happen today, darling." she asked.



Tuesday, 18 December 2012

What to buy her for Christmas ?


It's always difficult to know what to get my wife for Christmas, but it's also fun choosing.

Maybe some lingerie ?

The girls at Victoria's Secret appear to have had fun when they got snowed in.





When the games are over they decide to Deck the Hall with enthusiastic Christmas Cheer





This Figleaves girl shows off what she might like to find in their stocking. It would have been cute  if she had turned from her dressing table with a hairbrush in her hand.









I should like to buy my wife some Jeggings - she still has the bottom and the legs that would look good in a pair of these, but she would probably say I had wasted my money as they are too young for her now.

I know that she will not be getting me any Meggings - as they say these things don't lie. 


Maybe I will just play safe and get her a romantic weekend trip to Paris in the Spring, and pack a martinet, in hopeful anticipation. Always assuming she takes me along.

   

Monday, 17 December 2012

Joy destroyed

Across the USA and, I believe, in the a lot of homes in the UK, it will be difficult to celebrate Christmas knowing that so many small lives and courageous adult lives have been taken away in Connecticut.

The sadness will be unbearable in that small town. 

Why didn't the guy just wake up and shoot himself ?

Sincere condolences to all involved. 

Sunday, 16 December 2012

Sunday Spanklet - Attention to details.


Spanklet  (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.
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The afternoon was already darkening as he walked through the damp field towards the wood where the trees had lost their foliage.

The knife in his pocket was a weapon only against the bark of the maple or birch, whose long stems of the earlier spring were easily accessible.

The crows welcomed him with raucous noise, flapping at the danger of the intruder into their silent space.  

He found his way quickly to a familiar grove. He had been there on more than one occasion and knew where the trees which would offer the thinnest of branches.

 Mistress liked the birch rod to be made of “goldilocks” branches, not to thick and not too thin, but just the right diameter at the base and tip.

Walking back to where he had parked the car, Andrew trimmed off the twigs and dead leaf stems, whittling down the dozen or so branches until they were all the same length and cleaned off the few sharp points. Opening the trunk of the car he retrieved the sisal string and bound the rods of flexible sticks into a tight bunch. He added some jungle tape at the grip and about halfway along the birch rod, to prevent the tips from splaying out. The Mistress had strict standards that had to be met.

Swishing the rod up and down, quite violently, Andrew was satisfied that the birch was one of his better efforts. There was no wobble and the grip was taught.

He set off for the village about 10 miles way. He had already driven for 2 hours and he was keen to get to the pub where he would be spending the night. The Mistress had a farmhouse on a quiet road just outside the village and his appointment was not until 6, so he still had more than an hour in hand.

Once he had checked in with the pub landlady and settled into his small but comfortable bedroom, Andrew showered and opened his suit carrier laid out the blue blazer, grey slacks and white shirt neatly on the bed. His underwear was new and he savoured the feel of fresh cotton against his bottom. He sprayed some after shave down there and felt a sharp sting on his genitals as the liquid evaporated. Quite a nice sensation he thought, for someone who enjoys pain. He dressed quickly and left the striped tie off for the present, putting it carefully in his blazer pocket.. Taking a quick look at himself in the mirror he thought that he looked the part and presented  just the right image of a senior schoolboy, even though those days were well in the past. He hoped the Mistress would approve.

In the near empty bar downstairs he sipped a double shot of neat vodka with a coffee and read the newspaper. He could not concentrate on much as he was distracted by the anticipation of what was to happen to him over the next two hours. He could only afford to spend time with a Domme every six weeks and this Mistress was the one he looked forward to visiting for days ahead. 

He said goodbye to the landlady who mentioned that he looked very smart and she wished him a good evening. Not for the first time he wondered if she knew what he was up to. Villages are small places after all.

. He left the pub charged with a little Dutch courage against the dread and nervousness which fully occupied his mind  now  that the session was so close..



Saturday, 15 December 2012

Christmas shopping was not so bad.

My wife and I did Christmas shopping yesterday and spent a long time in a large store which is the favorite of the middle income group, here in the UK. It is the one where the employees are partners. 

We shopped together for a while and then drifted apart as we each looked at the different parts of the store.

My spanking brain was in overdrive as I came across all sorts of discipline related items which were available in the very conventional store.


No explanation needed here. 
The hairbrush is larger than it looks and the plastic is a resin so it is very hard.




A hearty bathbrush

.Two sturdy items to be told to bend over.



When we met for coffee  my wife commented on how cheerful I was considering it was a shopping trip.

I replied that I had just been getting some ideas.






 Yes, this was on sale in Household utilities.







On the way out to the car park, I stopped in Kitchenware and  picked up the "baguette board" shown below and she smiled. 





When I asked if we needed one of these for the Christmas meal she said no, we had plenty of other things, that would do just as well. 
Now there's a heartwarming thought.









Sunday, 9 December 2012

Sunday Spanklet - Parcel post


Spanklet  (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.
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Peter closed the door behind him.

It had been a long day and he was glad to be home. He had noticed that the lights were on next door and figured that Sam must be home from college. His parents were away on a vacation and when they had left their house keys with Peter, as they usually did, they had mentioned that their son would be coming home for a week or so to house sit.

Perhaps at the weekend he would go round just to check that everything was OK. He must be nearly 21 by now so Peter figured he would not be getting up to anything stupid like a house party.

He poured himself a glass of wine and stood at the fridge wondering what he might fix for an evening meal or whether he should get a take away.

The front door bell rang and Peter put off the decision.

Sam was stood there holding a small parcel in an outstretched hand

“Um hello Mr Martin, I mean Peter. The postman put this through our mail by mistake.”

Peter took the parcel. It didn’t take a detective to see that it had been opened and that a pretty poor attempt had been made to seal it up again.

“Why, don’t you come in Sam. I was just having a drink. Maybe you would like a beer or something.”

The boy, or young man that he was really, looked keen at the mention of a drink and Peter stood to one side to wave him past and into the hallway.

 They chatted about how things were at college whilst the older man fixed a glass of beer.

As Sam took his first sip Peter asked,

“So did you enjoy the video?”

“What?” Sam spluttered a bit as he was about to take another drink from the glass.

“The video  that was in my parcel.”

“I didn’t…..”

“Really Sam, there’s no need to lie to me. I can see it’s been opened. The question is, did you enoy it ?.”

“I didn’t watch it. I just looked inside.” Sam was nervous now.

“Yes you did Sam. What I don’t understand though is why you didn’t just push the package through my letter box? You could have done it an anytime and I wouldn’t have known how it got there, would I?”

Sam stood there open mouthed, wishing he was a back at home or at college. Anywhere except in this guy’s kitchen.

“So what did you think Sam? Do you like watching films of girls being spanked? Did it turn you on?”

“Listen, honestly I didn’t watch it. I saw it was personal stuff and I just put it back.”

“We both know that’s not true don’t we. In fact, we both know why you are here don’t we?”

Sam looked across into Peter’s eyes. There was no going back.


“Yes, I guess so. Look I’m sorry this was all a bad mistake. Please don’t say anything to my parents. I will just go home.”

“You’re not going anywhere young man. At least not until you get what you came for. Stay where you are. I will be back in a moment.”

Sam watched as he left the room. His legs were shaking and his stomach was churning. He thought about fleeing. Getting out of the house as quickly as he could,  but his feet remained rooted to the kitchen floor.

In a moment he heard Peter call him.

“Come into the dining room Sam” It was an instruction Sam had to obey.

Peter had taken off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. In his right hand he held a long cane. To Sam’s eyes it looked very long indeed.

“What happens to liars Sam?”

“They get punished,   Sir.”

The Sir bit had slipped out easily. Sam was well brought up and Peter was gratified that the young man knew his place.

“They get thrashed Sam. They get caned very hard indeed don’t they?.”

“Yes sir.”

“So go the table over there, drop your trousers and pull down your pants. Then bend over You are about to be a star in your own show. ”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

Shaking with fear and excitement Sam bared his bottom and leaned over the table and spread his legs. His strong erection was pressed hard into the cold hard surface.

“Please give me the first stroke.”  Sam asked in a quiet voce, recalling a scene from the video where the very pretty girl in the blue knickers had positioned herself across just such a table, the pleated grey skirt thrown up over her trim waist.

Peter raised the cane high above his shoulders

Yes, he thought, this was indeed a very well mannered young man.

Sam shivered and clenched his white cheeks together as he heard the cane zip in the air in practice strokes behind him.

“Relax your bottom Sam. This is going to take some time."


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Recomposed from a story that I read years ago, only it had different characters then.
P.S. I have removed some of the verification required in Comments so I look forward to hearing from you.